While there is nothing astounding or extraordinary about The Still Life, what it does is indicate that Alessi Laurent-Marke is a songwriter and musician who already shows a real promise of creating something very special later on in her career.

It certainly sounds very much like the record he wanted to make, and nothing like anything he's done previously.

Straddling both shoegaze and post-punk is what makes Moaning both enthralling and frustrating, a hint to the cavernous thrill they're capable of though also threatening to oversaturate and lose themselves in their own dirge. Here's to hoping it doesn't end up enveloping them completely.

It’s a soft reboot. It’s a new path to take. There’s the widest palette of any Okkervil River album, but it’s steady and doesn’t throw any needless curveballs.

Listeners may not like the whole album--but they’ll almost definitely love it in parts.

Though melodically not as rich as his previous offerings, Boo Boo is just as considered and stylistically coherent as you would expect from a Toro Y Moi record, which, given that it was born out of an identity crisis, is a continued testament to its creator.

Distance Inbetween may not be the renaissance one would have hoped for and is a much more straightforward record than expected but there’s enough here to suggest their next record will be worth listening to.

Hexadic works best when Chasny dials down the guitar squall and channels his energies towards more nuanced fare.

Like a kid in a candy shop, Goddard has indulged in a selection splashed with dazzling colour; but the results are pic’n’mixed.

It is true then, that Russian Circles are no longer pushing back the walls of post-rock acceptability, and also true that their albums don’t bite down as hard as they used to, but it is still definitely true that they wield the ability to compose the most beautiful, thought-provoking pieces of music.

While it is a shame that some of these ideas don’t feel more fully fleshed out, there are still plenty of moments that set characterise White Fence as some of the most interesting ’60s-tinged music being released.

It's not a perfect album by any means, but it is a worthy cover of a nigh-on perfect album, capturing the joie de vivre of the original and dousing it in some serious lunacy for good measure. And that's no mean feat.

In its finest moments, it demonstrates the potency of experimental club music--dynamic, disorderly and charged with emotion. Sadly, a chunk of tracks amount to more of an endurance test, one which some listeners will simply nope out of.

Ultimately though, there's more here that will shock than will appease.

His self-titled effort amounts to little more than the sound of him treading water; it’s every bit as fun and energetic as GB City, and the chaotic live shows aren’t likely to see a change of pace any time soon, but there’s practically nothing in the way of progression here, either.

If Midlake seemed to have lost their sense of fun on The Courage of Others, though, they’ve certainly rediscovered it on Antiphon. Even in its flatter moments, at least the band themselves sound like they’re enjoying it.

There is promise, with the gorgeous choral addition in both “It Ain’t Wrong Loving You” and “Good Together” adding some much needed depth, but the new tracks don’t really show us a side of HONNE we haven’t seen before.

It’s a fine line to walk between variety and novelty. Metal Galaxy dances along this line in admittedly very fun way, but that fun is at the expense of true depth and soul.

Ultimately, it’s a hypnotic and intermittently enjoyable experience, which whilst a little overextended and at times as shallow as the music it pastiches, marks a convincing enough return for Cut Copy.

Side Effects is enjoyable, with inspired moments and a consistently danceable feel. It is frequently referential to the band’s previous work, which might make this more of a knockout record for the heads, rather than an entry point for new converts. Sometimes, though, it lacks the drive that reveals itself in the sparkliest songs.

While not quite continuing with the bombast of its beginnings the The Savage Heart and Jim Jones Revue--a live band at best and perhaps one of the most visceral around--leave a lot to the imagination on this record which will certainly allow them to maintain the surprise and hype live.

Deap Lips, is less of a synthesis and more of a compromise. A diamond in the rough rather than a crown jewel. Undoubtedly more experimental than the Lips’ last collaborative effort, the music is still tinged with that same whiff of self-indulgence.

In a live arena the sinister power that Restarter wields will thrill, but as a static piece it's dense beyond reason.

What the other releases do so well is that they either hit the spot hard or deliberately miss for effect, but this time round the result seems to be somewhere in between.

Temple’s chameleonic tendencies make it unlikely that he’ll release an album in this vein again. With that in mind, it’s best to enjoy Be Small for what it is: charming, skilful, and pleasing to the ear.

It’s true that the concept is the most rewarding aspect of these songs, but the choice of character does chime greatly with the historical moment and makes the album more distinct than it otherwise might have been.

The artistry is unquestionable, but ultimately the indulgence of the album’s creation seems to have fogged Invention’s original vision.

Harlem River sees Morby’s melancholic discomforts through a refreshingly soft lens.

Rebound doesn’t represent an entirely successful experiment--especially when, on ‘In Between Stars’, things begin to sound suspiciously like Texas--but when Friedberger gets it right, the record soars.

It’s a charming listen, rich in intricacies and possessing a deep warmth and reverence for the original material. Musically, it’s not going to change the world.

This demonstration of versatility provides a hint of what could happen if the yin and yang find a little peace. As it is, on Silver Tongue, their occasional struggle leaves us with a worthy album with definite highlights, but some unfulfilled potential.

For all of its positives there is the leftover taste that this is an album that will please die-hard fans, but will ultimately leave those outside of that pondering if it was really needed.

jUSt is by no means a catastrophe, it's just too empty an artefact to recommend to fans of a band who once infuriated, teased, scalded, intoxicated and destroyed their listeners with effortless aplomb.

More than a curio but not quite essential, Myths 002 will not drastically change perceptions of either artist involved, but is another commendable display of their lack of fear when it comes to exploring new ways of work.

If nothing else, Messier Objects is a proper reminder of the beneath-the-surface merits of The Notwist's compositional talents.

verall it feels like a real thrift shop of curiosities with a few gems to be found if you go looking. And if you do, be prepared for a fair amount of sifting.

The arrangements and execution have finely coalesced, but the anything-goes spirit that sparked Blitzen Trapper’s late ‘00s renaissance seems to have moved on. The wild mountain nation has been tamed.

The Best Day doesn’t offer much in the way of compelling us to venture forth; that is, even if we were inclined to in the first place.

It’s a unique record, for sure, and one that deserves at least some of your time.

It’s an album that displays great faith in the late 70s/early 80s nexus of bar rock, punk, and 50s nostalgia, meaning that its melodies, riffs, and aesthetic choices often charm (to a point), even as its narratives mystify.

There are so many different genres, instruments, sounds and ideas at play here that at times its too much to digest.

There’s no doubt that Pianos Become The Teeth are fully aware of where they want to be; all that’s left is a little more refinement and consistency to get them to that point.

Most of the album functions as a dance album, and a pretty good one at that. It’s the sections of the record where the focus is shifted, and Melidis tips his hat to the rock and pop music of the 60s or 70s or another by-gone era, that let the album down.

The arty fusion of cabaret, baroque and psychedelia somehow places it between Beach House and more recent Fleet Foxes, but does not always make for the easiest of listening.

While there’s some quirky songwriting and clever lyrical tales on The Tourist, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah just don’t seem to be hitting the mark that they once did.

Rich in texture and enveloping atmosphere, Any Random Kindness unfortunately lets its lyrical content fall to the wayside. While this gives more space to let the incredible soundscapes breathe, it also feels like the real emotional punch to back them up is lacking.

Great Divide is a definite step up from the flab of Free, blowing out its cheeks impressively hard at first but it does run out of puff all too quickly.

Yellen’s vision is ambitious and expansive, but not always easy to digest.

All too often, though, Peace Trail sounds like another case of Young chucking half-formed ideas at the wall to see if anything might stick before moving on to yet another project. That said, there are genuinely powerful moments here that promise of better things to come.

Overall Dissolve is primarily concerned with the cultivation of atmosphere, which is strong and sustained throughout--even across the few weaker tracks--and it is a promising introduction to an artist with a clear vision and a quietly experimental approach.

It’s still clear, though, that she has too many ideas not to be able to take them somewhere interesting once settled into a new life. File under ‘transitional’.

Everything’s been cleaned up and beautifully balanced, and it’s for the better; the engineering is so good, in fact, it actually elevates the songs themselves. ... While nothing here [in the collection of six demos] is all that revelatory, it’s still fun to watch the band tinker with their songs.

The end result is an album sure to be a curiosity for fans but likely to be lost on everyone else.

The Rural Alberta Advantage bring enough intelligence and thoughtfulness to their music to ensure that it’ll appeal to listeners who wouldn’t normally like to admit to listening to soaring, emotionally open indie rock.

Tyranny is a fantastically interesting idea, which doesn’t always work as an album, but could make one hell of an installation

Nothing to rival ‘Time For Heroes’, then, but this as accessible, and as listenable, as anyone may have hoped for.

All We Need ultimately serves as another reminder that--with some seasoning--there is a great Raury record coming down the pipeline. This just isn’t it.

It’s a big world out there is certainly enjoyable, but I’d have been happy to do without the stuff we’ve heard before.

Simultaneously concerned with uncomplicated nostalgia, yet quietly indulging in the slightly-less-conventional. It makes for an intriguing introduction, and a much needed reprieve for supergroups everywhere.

It’s an exercise in flexibility, in collaboration and support of new, largely unknown talent. It speaks not of a stale money grab, but of a conscious desire to stretch and explore his talent, exploring outside of his comfort zone, and to make not just another Streets album.

Whilst with Sakura they haven’t quite achieved that elusive balance between the raw emotion and intimacy that made Big Deal so enticing in the first place and the intensity and power of a full band, all the signs suggest they will soon.

It's no surprise that the best tracks on the album are taken from her two excellent EPs that came before, full of that experimental, genre busting pop she wanted to achieve. The rest of the album, though, fails to truly inspire and stir up those same emotions in the listener that Sey so clearly has in her voice.

There are at least a half-dozen verses in this album alone that stand amongst his best ever. ... Problem is, saying a whole lotta nothing for 70-plus minutes doesn’t exactly make for a compelling rap record.

They demonstrate a knack for so many areas it’s hard to predict where they may go in the next few years, although it’s a bit incoherent at times as the band schlep from one genre to another while still trying to hoist in their innate pop flair. This record’s a crossroads.

There’s no inherently bad songwriting here, but most of it isn’t particularly interesting, either. This ultimately becomes the chief complaint here.

Croll has some great, great tunes but they so often artfully distract from the rest of his approach, which can often be minimal, and lacking in effort.

Like the rest of Ranaldo’s work post-Youth, this is a record that suggests that he was perhaps always the member of the band that had the most traditional songwriting sensibilities, and this is once again a thoroughly solid alt-rock effort with just enough of an adventurous slant--particularly, the flashes here and there of glitchy electronic textures--to please casual fans of his old outfit.

With multiple writers Sideways to New Italy perhaps lacks the focus and clear direction that the music deserves; stark changes in vocal styles can break an aural ‘fourth wall’ and remind the listener that the songwriters, while complementary, are also competing with one another for our attention.

The uneven narrative is often jarring, but as an attempt to put a modern spin on old-time rock and roll, Liberation! hits more than it misses.

Silver Wilkinson is a solid return to (mostly) familiar, territory.

There is certainly less filler here than on previous albums, but there are still points which feel a little dull or repetitious.

For the most part, then, The Flower Lane is a glowing ember of a record that shares much of the spark of Mondanile’s “day job” band, but also a little of their occasional tendency toward stylistic appropriation over dedication to content and originality.

The hodgepodge feel is a shame, because at its best RELAXER is euphoric and poignant, at its worst it is frustrating and lumpy.

The Aces are reaching for the stars on this release, and the glimmers of what they could be further down the road burn bright. Unfortunately the album is brought back to Earth when their usually precise hooks and focused direction are left behind in favour of lackadaisical experimentation – the candid lyrics manage to cut through, but it's easy to imagine this album being seen as transitionary in hindsight.

Hayward’s kinetic drumming and Moore’s topographic guitar sprawl recurringly align and separate, speed up and slow down together, in what start to feel like nearly identifiable patterns. Such shapes may be just figures in the clouds, but they catch the imagination as they drift by.

The tunes are there, they’re tsunami big and surfer cool--the lyrics are there, bold, bleak and biting--but there’s been an oversight when it comes to stamping on the pedals, letting rip and allowing Surfer Blood to tear this material a new hole.

The opener and closer are a real treat, and it's a shame that they weren't packaged together where they would have made a shorter but more satisfying whole.

Just as it really gets going and starts shining, it splutters and finishes, leaving a sort of empty feeling.

One of Chung’s strengths is not overstuffing his music, but there are moments where Parallels’ nonchalance makes it feel like less of a full album and more of a holdover between more momentous projects.

What we hear is a man playing conductor, curator, ringmaster, director--a brilliant facilitator, yet one never quite able to hold his own on the stage of his making.

In another step away from her new-folk singer-songwriter roots, Emmy The Great has delivered with a well-considered venture into a wider, colder, dystopian world.

Frankly, a rap space opera shouldn't work this well, and it's a testament to the trio's vision that it does, even if Splendor & Misery can be a pretty turbulent voyage.

There’s nothing in the way of a bold step forward on Unseen, which is the wooziest collection of songs they’ve put out in quite a while; this is very much an album for the wee small hours.

A muddled record that thrills and distresses, equally, in short bursts.

4:44 offers renewed hope for fans who, since Kingdom Come, have felt increasingly disenfranchised by Jay-Z’s loss of touch with his roots and apparent marginalisation of his rap career.

In terms of catchy beats and somewhat meaningful lyrics, each song has one or the other, and Lil Nas X just needs a little more time to get them to match up.

Cults is a pop band--albeit a very distinctive one--and Static only works when the band delivers on the melodies that made its debut so compelling.

Every bit as dense and nuanced as their more traditional work, Celestite might end up finding itself falling between two stools, but no-one could accuse Wolves in the Throne Room of going at this half-heartedly.

From the song structure to the vocal delivery, everything’s fairly laid-back and far from groundbreaking, but such is its lo-fi garage aesthetic.

All Wet is an album with its fair share of sturdy pop, but hidden deep alongside are a selection of instrumental, French-spirited house and slouch-shouldered techno that act as pillars to help support and connect them together.

While there are some moments of genuinely engaging songwriting early on, halfway through the mix of styles and genres becomes confusing and incoherent, making it feel incomplete.

If you buy into Brian Fallon’s rock classicist worldview, Sleepwalkers is an enjoyable record. Just don’t ask for much beyond that.

The eleven tracks show little shift in the sisters’ sound, which remains as beguiling--or as infuriating--as ever.

It’s certainly the sound of the band taking a step forward and trying to find its feet, sliding a little on the frozen ground but still heading towards the sun.

The record doesn’t fully commit to a new direction, so its primary audience will still be Avett diehards, but it’s a fun listen for the summer and a testament to the brothers’ enduring success as one of the savvier folk groups out there.

Ewald’s writing is comprised of a number of observations that often appear fairly minor, collated into something that is at times quite evocative. There are moments however where it feels more uncoordinated, less refined, and unfortunately it is these points that prevent the record becoming the disarming gem it promises at times to be.

Overall, this is an impressively diverse set of tracks, Evelyn has demonstrated his capability of working in a myriad of genres with a number of collaborators, yet in its entirety, the record feels slightly lost.

New probably won’t reverse the malaise that his public profile is slowly suffering in Britain, but it’s enjoyable fare all the same.