The list of the era’s top head acts is impressive--everyone from Tim Hardin and Canned Heat to Jefferson Airplane and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Trouble is, the roll call doesn’t make much logical sense.

Yours, Dreamily is tight without purpose, bordered where it should be wild, and only occasionally feels alive at all.

Moore’s Nashville-based father Bob played bass for everyone from Dylan and Elvis to Sammy Davis Jr and Quincy Jones, and his influence is clear; all of pop music is here.

A new collection of previously unreleased tracks from the original members, Lost & Found compiles studio tracks that never quite made it onto the original album, interspersed with delightful live recordings from the various musicians.

The overall mood is, ironically, not dissimilar to drifting in and out of consciousness while the TV murmurs in the background, occasionally jolting you awake with a ringing phone or a spray of gunfire.

Dead Cross’ comely disquiet is bathed in that inimitable Patton charisma, and his vocals add in so many diverse elements that Lombardo and co cannot have foreseen. In short, Patton makes it fun.

At their best, Garrie’s songs are tender, well-observed vignettes of a life well travelled, mostly on dusty French roads with a bar at the end. At their not-so-best, Garrie’s lyrics are more than a touch hokey (the quite frankly awful Boy Soldier) while the jauntier back bar numbers (Bacardi Samuel) are for Francophiles only. The Moon & The Village is destined to again divide punters and purists. One for fans new and old it is.

It's certainly a feast for the ears, and possibly the most satisfying listen since 2011 masterpiece Underneath The Pine. [Oct 2024, p.103]

This is intelligent easy listening in a band setting. [Oct 2025, p.132]

While Andrews eventually got back on track while sifting through the music and adding lyrics, that initial uncertainty lingers throughout the album. [Jun 2026, p.101]

Vol 2’s serrated guitars, sawdust vocals, tipsy piano and sardonic wit are a scalping delight, while still tapping reserves of tender beauty for Jumpstarting and Pulse.

A joyful, spirited album that also stands to teach whoever listens to it some vital life lessons.

They’re not as overwrought as the earliest Bright Eyes records--recorded when he was in his teens and early 20s--but they’re just as pure and open-hearted, albeit with the (jaded) wisdom that comes with age, making it arguably his best solo effort yet.

The most exciting thing about them--their knack with a tune and fanfare--is buried beneath what could be considered unnecessary flourishes. Strip it back guys, chill out. You’re still young.

A winning melange of tinny disco beats, retro-futuristic textures and layers of synth, it’s by far their most cohesive work to date; in its less inspired moments it feels literally (and presumably intentionally) monotonous, but at its best it’s an immersive, absorbing listen.

After the brutal old school motorik of Lights Flicker (Manning, sax and guitar dogfighting over Zappi’s hypnotic vamp) and Heron reciting over the oceanic swell of Fish, no doubts are left that Faust’s unique creative flame still burns as bright as their social conscience.

A little more variety in tone would allow the album's heavier tracks to hit harder, but if it's high-quality heavy rock you're after, Beth has delivered it consistently. [Sep 2025, p.103]

BJM’s 16th full-length begins with a sublime eight-minute krautrock corker and doesn’t get any less fun from there.

Welcome evidence of a still young band stretching themselves and maturing at a pleasing pace. [Mar 2025, p.105]

Occasionally, this approach doesn’t match the heartfelt sentiment (see the lyrics to both You’re My Friend and A True Original) but, on the whole, this is the sound of a man reinvigorated, happy to be recording and with a dependable, more involved backing band than ever.

If maturity is on the Bad Boys’ lyrical agenda on the sardonically titled Rot, letting up the pace is not.

Additional keyboards and synths fatten the sound in places without swamping the innate simplicity of the melodies, while guest singer Sarah Jessop brings an ethereal twist to High The Hemlock Grows. Likewise, Janovitz’s daughter Lucy weighs in with a delicious harmony on the reserved cover of Paul Simon’s The Only Living Boy In New York.

Thankfully, the three-part harmonies and irresistible melodies that lit up the debut remain ever present, exemplified here on both Memoirs Of Grey and Sweet Salvation.

While One Deep River is unlikely to make many new converts, it will more than satisfy his loyal army of fans.

Really, it just suffers from sequel syndrome, as there’s a fine single-disc collection buried within some over-blown, try-hard choices.

There are moments of warped magic--haunting melodies, neat instrumental hooks, surprising turns of key and mood--but there are also times when you suspect it might have been more interesting to hear what Yorke and his collaborators came up with in the studio before it got eaten by ProTools.

Toxic synths and an undeniable sense of occasion pervade, the record sounds appropriately big and it just about steers clear of unwanted pomposity.

Hang can delight and frustrate in equal measure, but it is an indulgent album that tempts the listener into just one more, wafer-thin listen.