Enchanting stuff.

It borders on the twee. That it doesn't cross the frontier is the reason this is worth your attention.

If mainstream and soulful's your country bag, you can do a lot worse than this.

This is meditative, spacious, profoundly dark music, evidently haunted by Miles Davis's early-1970s excursions into free electronica, as well as the wolves of the Nordic imagination.

This is heartfelt, sweetly sincere and as good an album as BPB has made for some time.

Not really "folk" at all but a programme of music for solo guitar (and occasional clarinet) drawing on three centuries of complex harmony; or at least the harmony which appeals to the gruff old Pentangle picker.

They are awfully thoughtful, though the thoughtfulness does frequently give way--sometimes you feel with a sigh of relief--to the technical liberation of jig and reel.

This is jouncey, mostly R&B-derived pop with a keen ear for what supports a melody. It's good.

D&B&G is delicate and unaffected but clever and soulful--a balm and an inquisition.

You might even argue that this and its predecessors, My Name Is Buddy (2007) and Pull Up Some Dust and Sit Down (2011), represent the most cogent work of his long career.

It takes a few plays to acclimatise to but, once won over, whatever you listen to next will seem pedestrian by comparison. Lovely, but wholly on its own terms.

Love This Giant is a skewed and funky instant classic.

Cherry's version of Suicide's "Dream Baby Dream" is an unmissable marvel... Elsewhere, it's not the freedom of the backing that's the problem so much as the randomness of the material, with several songs feeling as if they were chosen to look hip rather than sound interesting.

While this may once have been filed under 'shoegaze', now we can call it 'noisy dream pop' and just wade in its wash of guitars.

It's lovely to fall asleep to. Which is a compliment, not a complaint.

His most enjoyable LP since Our Favourite Shop.

One minute it's like listening to early Genesis, the next Smile-era Beach Boys, the next XTC and the next, um, 1980s Genesis.

They've done a respectful job of augmenting the atmosphere of melancholy, contemplation and unease.

A close to fine debut.

Contact is shamelessly allusive, never remotely challenging and characterised by a get-to-the-chorus immediacy.

Here, Beam adds funky Stevie Wonder synths to the mix. And marimba. Lots of marimba.

She's an oblique writer and arranger, though, often interesting, never predictable.

There is no shortage of shimmery songcraft here.

A classy, well-made record.

The live stuff is consistently inventive.... Randomness dogs the remixes, but that's standard.

You won't have heard anything like it before.

Chris Thile is the most remarkable mandolinist in the world; fluent, articulate and sometimes just a little too clever to be truly engaging.

Giddily debunking sacred falsehoods with good, honest scepticism, Bauer’s raucous rebirth offers the best of both worlds: intrigue and instant reward for Walkmen doubters and acolytes alike.