Performing at a venue that once hosted the iconic long-running Grand Ole Opry show, the band do seem slightly in awe of their venerable surroundings. They certainly never get too chatty here, with Bridwell limiting himself to an occasional aww-shucks ‘Thanks y’all!’ or similar.

Emmaar [is] possibly the band’s most consistently satisfying album yet.

He clearly has a blast doing this, and it shows through in a release like Four Foot Shack.

It deceptively makes you think there’s not much happening here but is in fact a highly complex thing that needs care and attention, only then do you realize we have been offered Rostron’s heart on a plate.

Sun Structures is a bold, muscular record.

This record is a creation: you can hear the adventure in it.

There’s little to get excited about here--there’s no wheel reinventing, no formula shake-up, no scrawling outside any boxes... it’s just pleasant, familiar indie-rock that verges on wishy-washy.

On Benji, and even more particularly on some of the live versions featured on the additional disc that accompanies the first ten thousand copies, Mark Kozelek is at least as piercing and persuasive as in his best output over the last two decades.

With Angel Guts Stewart once again manages to dig his nails into the grubby under layer, not returning with any transgressed beauty but instead stark honesty and brutal truth. You may want to turn away, but you might not be able to.

Following Marissa Nadler from one album to the next is like scraping away at the forearm with a scratch awl, each outing going progressively deeper, and we’re finally at blood and bone.

Although this might not be a record that grabs you by the collar and slaps you in the face with its genius, for those who are happy to give a little of themselves to bring these songs to life, Along The Way could prove an excellent companion for whatever journeys lie ahead.

Ultimately, Dunes is a collection of tracks which showcases Gardens & Villa’s distinctly original twist on the well-worn and much abused genre of synth-pop. It’s fun, it’s clever and it’s mature--electro-pop for adults.

Wonderland‘s a cracking slab of chewy pop-toffee. It’s sugary, and superficially slathered with rainbow glitter, but it takes more than a few seconds to comprehend and devour the music.

It can be straightforward, but more often than not on Too Much Information it’s actually quite clever.

It would appear that the desire to remain in stasis has left it to stagnate somewhat, which is a shame, as Kompakt remains one of the most invigorating labels in electronic music.

Terrestrials sounds surprisingly cohesive considering the project’s improvised roots and slow development.

It takes the form of a vanity project rather than a perceptive communication between artist and listener.

Young Fathers have not so much captured their sound as they have chiselled it afresh from the Earth’s core.

It’s a mighty lunge forwards for the four-piece.

The laid-back pace and contemplative mood then doesn’t really evolve over the 11 songs, and although Croz doesn’t outstay its welcome, there is a nagging feeling that the slickness of the production and instrumentation don’t play to Crosby’s strengths as a singer or songwriter.

It’s 17 near-perfect minutes that whisk you from sparkling seas across soft, white sands to smoky late-night bars beneath torrential rain, full of soul notes that lift the rafters. It’s a tiny, little, beautiful adventure.

Innocence is saved by the urgent innovation that courses through its emphatic high points, with Pontiak once again proving that they are taking rock ‘n roll in a thrilling new direction while also giving a knowing nod to its unruly past.

The result is a well-tempered mix of organic and contrived capable of rivaling even the most fertile metropolis.

These are not songs which will not change the world, and they will probably never be a huge band--but songs as beautiful and honest as these will always be huge for some people.

It’s the record’s most easy-to-appreciate moment, but whether there’s enough to the rest of it to ensure its makers aren’t soon to be forgotten remains to be seen.

Each tone, note, or scrape here seems deliberate and purposeful without ever feeling overly controlled.

Ghettoville is lonely and solipsistic, music for 3am and the glow of streetlamps and the distant reflections of glass and steel, of crumbling urbanity meshed with neon glow and shadows cast long and deep.

[Divine Ecstasy] is a sound--no matter how hard to quite pin down and vivisect--with which the music world has been familiar for going on a few years now, and very little groundbreaking--cloud breaking? sunshine breaks through clouds, right?--is going on here, although Cuts’ brand of amoeba production does have enough individuality to stand apart from its peers.