The change of scenery manifests in the album’s wider sonic palette as the trio embrace classic pop (Down Down), garage-rock (Had Enough), surf punk (Watch Your Back) and even resemble a grunged-up Heart on Perfume.

Overall, it’s less of a curiosity than it might look on paper; not so much a departure as it is a confidently mapped-out alternative route.

A really gorgeous record, and well worth seeking out.

Prepare to be taken on a journey around the pair’s sonic universe that touches on everything from US R&B, Nilsson-esque singer-songwriter numbers and back again, all under a heady sheen of studio shimmer that can feel woozy, psychedelic or just 110 per cent odd at any one point.

The long-awaited Music Must Destroy is Ruts DC’s first fully-fledged rock LP since Animal Now and it doesn’t disappoint.

Baby Blue Abyss is a shape-changing beast. Styles vary, the approach is schizophrenic, but still the core of Baird and his scattershot mood remains.

Gillan isn't quite the octave-busting vocalist of old, while his lyrical subject matter often recalls the laddishness of his erstwhile self-named group. [Sep 2024, p.131]

Often embraces sophisticated dance-pop, led by the disco-kissed single Baby and the introspective, percolating Spirit. [Feb 2025, p.103]

The excellent PP Arnold featuring lead single Poison Vine is a good indicator of the move towards a very Stones-y type of uplifting soulful rock and blues; the swelling gospel rock of Don't Look Away is the most stirring thing they've done yet. [Jan 2026, p.101]

Ultimately, it's an well-executed update on his storied history. [Apr 2025, p.102]

The ambition and scope of these 23 songs is undeniably impressive, Scott still with a firm grip on the country and folk-minded tropes of his best back pages, augmented by (mostly) successful detours into the arenas of soul, funk, even hip-hop.

There are moments of genius here and there, so do investigate if you find yourself humming Lil’ Devil from time to time.

Benefiting from Deradoorian’s ghostly vocals and Eyvand King’s orchestrations, Eucalyptus offers rich blooms wherever it roams.

Hints of psychedelia and bursts of frantic riffing flirt with a classic Primus sound over much of The Desaturating Seven.

So, it’s a mini album, of no fixed musical style, with a far from comprehensible but usually hilarious narrative.

It’s a consistent and often stirring effort, with Liebling in particular sounding on fine form.

It’s that kind of affair: fine in parts but far too eclectic for its own good. Collins remains in fine fettle, though, and the choices are fair enough given her Broadway pedigree and eye for a standard.

The arrangements for all 11 songs are exquisite; much has been said about the proliferation of vintage echo and reverb machines used during recordings but much more central is the orchestration and use of instruments, with Tom Moth’s diaphanous but pulsating harp particularly notable.

Rather than a retrogressive exercise, by preserving these stories Hayman reminds us of some of the things our country has to be proud of; take Norton Le Clay’s tale of a Belgian settler (“Come all you refugees and strays, come all you immigrants and waifs”). It’s stirring, important stuff.

A bit more variation to the glistening soundscapes would have been welcome, as each track sounds rather like the others, but the core sound is a sweet one. [May 2025, p.103]

Deeply thoughtful, it's a raw, heartfelt work, articulated by Johnson's superb voice. [Nov 2025, p.103]

As an exercise in showcasing the singer’s inimitably laconic way with a variety of styles it’s a real winner.

Sounding classic on arrival, Lonesome Dreams is certainly the best album of its kind since Damien Jurado’s Maraqopa.

Some of the material threatens to drown in a mire of painfully bland songwriting and sleepwalking guest appearances.

It’s not all spot-on pop perfection: Return The Favor feels as if it’s been included just to fill the quota for an emotional, heart-wrenching ballad. However, this is a minor black mark against an album that ticks all the boxes for those who love cleverly constructed, 80s-esque indie with a pop twist.

If this is Rose Windows’ final farewell, it’s damned, and it’s good.

Unchallenging it may be, but 13 time-honoured blues classics played the Winter way is not an unattractive listen.

Across Six Leap Years serves the weirdest of purposes, pleasing (presumably) both band and fans. Many of these reworks are so slightly different as to possibly only truly satisfy the former, but no matter.