The supergroup does actually sound like something from the late 60s Swedish “progg” scene complete with flute toots and floaty vocals.

Minor Victories have torn apart their debut to uncover something more considered underneath. But apart from that, it’s a brilliant listen.

It’s warm, rewarding and a very, very comfortable listen. And therefore definitely not pysch.

The album certainly wears its influences on its (parka) sleeve but does so while maintaining a freshness and uplifting charm that carries the songs as they zip along. Putting the somewhat clichéd lyrics aside – although it’s not as though listeners generally flock to Liam Gallagher for Significant Meaning – there is plenty to savour.

New versions of Wichita Lineman and Gentle On My Mind are sparser than the originals, if no less affecting, but pale in comparison to the impossibly tender reading of By The Time I Get To Phoenix.

With a warmth uncommonly found in Weber’s work, Elements Of Light emerges as a real triumph.

Confident, confessional pop from masters of the craft. [Jan 2026, p.103]

Filled to the brim with explicit language and sexual overtones and charged with throbbing beats, it would be right at home in any queer club in Amsterdam. [Mar 2026, p.105]

Musically, the Virginians deliver a thrash/groove metal brew broadly similar to that of their previous albums, but that’s not to say there isn’t a wide range of textures, from all-out blasts to subtle acoustic tones.

As If You're Here has a sunny, surging drive-time glint to it too, but a little too much of Romanticize... is all clinical chill and no thrill. [May 2026, p.103]

The Tale Of The Altered Beast: Part 1. A New World could have easily sat on Blake’s New Jerusalem before the guys drag it into highspeed psychedelic punk insanity.

Tortoise may have become a little less cutting-edge in their old age, but within an area of the musical landscape which owes much to their enduring influence, they remain perennially relevant.

One hates to say it of a pleasant record, but much of it seems like background music for shiny-looking bars, where people pose around before the action starts.

An intriguing but ultimately underwhelming record. [Christmas 2024, p.131]

What they do well, they do here in spades, and the new experiments come off as more than memorable.

Nine-minute meanders and sub-standard I Am The Walrus clones aside, Third World Pyramid furthers and spreads out the BJM sound.

A fourth album full of vibrant, varied takes on pop interspersed with some more downbeat, sensitive ruminations. [May 2026, p.103]

EL VY provide a more synthetic, but strangely more earworm-riddled, sound that’s great for casual fans, but less emotionally demanding for hardcore Nationalists.

The influences are certainly varied, and harsher critics might suggest a lack of editorial control--a perfect example being Blood Red Balloon, which manages to recall both Grizzly Bear and Toto. Only Saturnine manages to resist the temptation to explode, and is the freshest track as a result (albeit with a guitar break that evokes Brian May). Regardless of such artistic concerns, it sounds like it may be the album to propel Mystery Jets to commercial success.

Electric Trim is a missed opportunity. The emphasis on meandering acoustic balladry is a real shame.

Some of the music is at the most extreme end of Jenkinson’s output, yet remains zanily accessible.

Fun, typically subversive and largely memorable, Copeland’s latest work could be one of his most enduring, whether we were meant to hear it or not. Makes you wonder what else he’s got up his sleeve.

Prolific in output, both together and in their separate projects, Sorcerer reflects a relentless drive to create something that’s restless and demanding in its realisation.

Papa M is back. His best album? No. A self-proclaimed “weird ass record” of diary sketches and fragments that beam with refound passion and optimism? Hell yeah.

It’s not the second coming of Ironman, but tracks such as Love Don’t Live Here No More, Emergency Procedure, Homicide and Blood On The Streets make this one of the best Wu-related releases of recent years, confirming Ghostface as its most consistently engaging member.

Haynes’ mellifluous voice hits home throughout, particularly effective on slower burners such as Tide and Keep Me, invoking a deeper hoodoo on Kingdom Come and Don’t Need It.

Earle’s slurring nonchalance and Colvin’s precise delivery are a joy as they weave around each other amid squealing harmonica and distorted, rocking guitars. The result is very much a band (rather than acoustic) album.

This time, with another dance music stalwart in Fuck Buttons’ Andrew Hung on producing duties, Orton shows no fear in heading into the electronic void, with some of her most eclectic and exciting tracks to date.