The radio-friendly gene appears to be lacking entirely from their approach, and as a result the album is among the most immersive listens in some time.

While Calexico have been bridging their influences and styles for long enough to be able to take risks, never letting an overriding mission statement cloud an album’s quality, here the foot is ever so slightly let off the gas, and the breathing space allows gems to be uncovered.

Anyone feeling the mildest desire to get on with their day may reach for the volume control and reduce the endless drone to background level – hardly the point of the exercise.

Ones And Sixes sees Low churning out some of their most accessible work, with What Part Of Me having the potential to be an unlikely hit. As ever, strong stuff in every way.

The Low Highway is an album brimming with characters, be they Earle himself, his collaborators, his fans or, just as importantly, the long roads he’s pounded all his adult life.

With nary a filler in sight, it’s an exquisite, richly evocative listen infused with the very smoke and steamy atmosphere of its natural nightclub habitat.

Unbelievably good and groundbreaking, even at a point in heavy metal history when every third band sounds more like Pink Floyd than Pantera.

The second half is a striking electronic makeover: the Baxter Dury-ish title track and the Prince-like S&M cosplay electro-strut of the sultry Goddess Rules are joltingly un-Dexys. If the premise is laid on a bit thick – Rowland never does things by halves – at least torch song My Submission is the most beautiful thing Dexys have ever done.

Shonna Tucker may have left the fold for a solo career, but in Hood and Cooley the Truckers still have two of the most eloquent songwriters working in Americana.

If the album takes fewer side roads than long-term fans may be used to, it also rewards repeat listening, revealing a little more each time. They may have covertly tucked their idiosyncrasies behind an accessible sound, but their unique vision remains.

The sounds are cosmic and enveloping, yet at times comedic, and full of joie de vivre. It’s fulsome, nattering with treble, and all quite similar, and is hence something of an assault course, but is a great reaffirmation that Yoshimi holds the keys to happiness, as viewed through a cracked mirror.

Despite the crossroads much of The Waterfall suggests, the band and their leader seem wholly, spiritually aligned--thrillingly so, in fact.

A matured yet playful execution, Kline takes the struggles of being a young woman in the modern world and transforms them into stripped-back offerings that--despite the scarcity of instrumentation and simple song structures--leave a strong impression.

There is nothing revolutionary about Cayamo but as an example of what world class performers can knock out on their holiday it can’t be beaten.

A sultry take on Burt Bacharach’s The Look Of Love, pitch-perfect version of Herbie Hancock’s Maiden Voyage and an emotive rendering of Ruby Andrews’ soul classic Casanova (Your Playing Days Are Over), are among the highlights on this welcome boon for lovers of high-grade instrumental funk.

Truth be told, Strange Peace’s series of succinct bludgeonings are more a case of ain’t-broke-don’t-fix and the appointment of likeminded racket fetishist Steve Albini as producer comes less as a surprise than foregone conclusion.

Jenny Lewis and The National’s Aaron Dessner guest this time out but to be honest, the spotlight is increasingly and deservedly Taylor’s alone to enjoy. Surrender now.

A 12-minute version of the album’s title track is more séance than song. ... Elsewhere, the audience’s enthusiastic response to the first few bars of Helpless is rewarded with a despairing deconstruction of the CSNY favourite, Nils Lofgren’s funereal accordion aiding the communal catharsis taking place onstage.

At times it’s like the aural equivalent of wandering round a sparsely-attended fairground; there are echoes of a pop melody drifting alongside an eerie waltz, or the frenzy of a whispered lyric that cuts through somehow, despite its subtlety.

Sad Clowns & Hillbillies is another sturdy set of bittersweet portraits viewed through melancholic eyes.

Brooks, though, stands out by dint of a nimble melodic touch, compositional sophistication and a broader historical frame of references. This makes From Out Here both satisfying and hard to pin down.

It’s a delightfully trippy treat that improves with each encounter and deserves to build on the success of Loveless--an aching ballad that, to these ears, likely had some genesis in the work of electronic pop pioneers Alphaville.

The generosity of the endeavour can’t be faulted: hours on end of largely unheard/unseen audio-visual content relating to the era encompassing A Momentary Lapse Of Reason, The Division Bell, Pulse and The Endless River, new 5.1 mixes, a 60-page photo book, replica tour programmes, two 7” singles featuring a Pulse tour rehearsal version of Lost For Words and the 2007 Syd Barrett tribute concert version of Arnold Layne… and, ye gods, even more.

Their seventh effort might start with short, low-key ballad Bluebird but that turns out to be a complete misnomer for an album chock-full of effervescent indie anthems and buoyant guitars. [Mar 2024, p.103]

The 25 tracks offered on Why Don't You Smile Now: Lou Reed at Pickwick Records 1964-1965 vary from lost gems, through proficient approximations of hit-makers like Phil Spector, to throwaway misfires. [Nov 2024, p.95]

Jamieson might be left with more questions than answers, but her talent for emotional incisions is beyond doubt. [Jan 2025, p.103]

His own trio take garage rock to new levels with the inane vocals, throbbing bass, crashing drums and screaming guitar of Sherlock.... [Christmas 2025, p.133]

Is often highly demanding yet repays the listener's commitment, revealing some fascinating, imaginative ideas. [May 2025, p.105]