There’s densely polyrhythmic music of texture and tone, frequently pierced with fragments of melody and hymnal chords emerging like shafts of sunlight through the trees, rewarding listeners willing to concentrate with moments of cerebral rapture.

Covers of songs by Nick Cave, Chelsea Wolfe and Lanegan’s Gutter Twins bandmate, Greg Dulli, bring this collection slightly more up to date, but nothing sounds out of place. Rather, in Lanegan’s hands, they coalesce to form a record of timeless, typically morose joy.

The tone is consistently one of hope, if James intended it to act as a balm to soothe any of the problems of the world, he’s certainly succeeded.

So there’s verve, vigour, and more energy from the slightly revised line-up too, but it isn’t groundbreaking.

It's the details, such as Joey Santiago's feisty guitar licks and Francis's unpredictable lyricism that steer the gentler material from the middle of the road. [Nov 2024, p.101]

No Squeeze fan is going to feel short-changed.

Piano is a solo work through and through. Simple, yes, but considered, dignified and something of a palate cleanser too, wherein everything seems reset.

Oscar is still finding his feet but with promise like this--and the irresistible Sometimes--there will be plenty of room for him when the time comes.

It’s a sturdy, muscular affair wherein Lydon rants energetically about everything from blocked toilets to Botox and the iCloud, on quintessentially cranky, ruck-friendly fare such as Double Trouble and I’m Not Satisfied.

Paranormal lacks both the nostalgia factor of its predecessor and a concept such as the one behind 2008’s Along Came A Spider. It also can’t claim to be a return to heaviness such as Dragontown from 2001. So what does it offer? Not much, other than a moderately listenable set of songs.

The nine sizzling tracks here may fly by, but reveal a true pioneer still firing on his much-abused cylinders.

The Peter Asher-produced album is glossily listenable even if you have no knowledge of the star name fronting the band. Whether it deserves the level of coverage it will receive is another conversation.

Accentuate The Positive’s lively mix of swing, jump jive, R&B and classic rock’n’roll constantly plays to the singer’s strengths as a thoughtful, inventive interpreter.

The opening Introduction To Why I Did It is a pocket masterpiece, a lyrical meditation on lost smalltown 80s indie youth, but often this musically satisfying album feels wanting for more of the story which inspired it. [Aug 2024, p.105]

Wryly observant character studies are linked by wistfully understated instrumental interludes, with harpsichord, vibes, nylon-strung guitar and single-finger organ tumbling contentedly against each other like smalls in a twin-tub.

Compassion is the trio’s second album, and its eight songs straddle the line between the past and the present, between melancholy gloom and euphoric dance music.

Rubin’s experiment has paid off handsomely, even though at times you’ll find yourself comparing the new songs to any number of familiar signature tunes from Sabbath’s catalogue.

While the sharp electric riffs pair neatly with the existential themes of the 26-year-old's lyrics on Agony Freak, its sounds are a little generic in the realm of contemporary indie-rock. Jordan does much better with the warm, Sundays-inspired jangle chords in Tractor Beam and my Maker, the album's high points. [Apr 2026, p.109]

Torrini and collaborator Dan Carey envisioned the record as a chance to explore the possibilities of the studio, and it does sound lovely, in a New Age kind of way. It seems, however, that this has come at the expense of strong songwriting.

Its brief running time over just six tracks harks back to earlier releases such as The Internationale or his debut Life’s A Riot, but this is a definitively 2017 soundtrack.

A tendency to record in sequence brings its problems; a slight mid-album sag might have been remedied by tighter editing. But the end-stretch’s up-swerve in character and definition suggests renewed direction.

While there's no shortage of ideas buzzing around these tracks they often have a tendency to come across as incomplete; meanders down sonic and lyrical avenues that fall just short of feeling whole. [Mar 2024, p.103]

It may be too reserved for excitable fans hoping for I’m Still Standing sequels, but the purity and simplicity of this unadorned balladry (Can’t Stay Alone Tonight, The New Fever Waltz) may bring many who fell by the wayside back into the fold.

A fine addition to a weighty catalogue already packed with duets.

Weirdly though, on his first solo record in nearly six years, it’s when everything is piled up together, when all the faders sound as if they are turned up, that the record is at its best.

Earth To Dora re-establishes Everett as one of the finest and most distinctive songwriters today – one who can make sorrow sound joyful, but who also knows that, without sadness, happiness wouldn’t be the same experience.

Another strong addition to Lanegan’s increasingly impressive canon, it makes despair sound worryingly inviting.

As has been noted about some of their previous work, the sonic characteristics, though very seductive, can become slightly repetitive and it could be argued this does not serve the base material to best advantage--there are interesting ideas floating around and it might be worth allowing some of them a little more clarity.