Despite the Orchestra's evident liking for full-on collective freakouts, there are hooks and melodies aplenty here that drive the group's mighty impulse to communicate.

An absorbing, immersive listening experience, Long.Live.A$AP outshines the recent full-lengths of technically more proficient rappers as well as those of strikingly safer hip-hop hitmakers.

It’s an exploratory, ebullient album from start to finish, and one that embodies the insatiable curiosity that led him to work with so many artists from so many different genres, a celebration of collective endeavour and of life itself.

[A] challenging but beautiful album.

It's tempting to assume that the box--call it psychedelic rock, acid punk or what you may--is their base of operations, but it's really not that simple. Bo Ningen will take your labels and whirl their chaotic vortex right through it, leaving splinters and eviscerated expectations in their wake.

Carpenter, Cody and Davies have united to form an extremely tight, polished and powerful piece of thematic music with the third volume of Lost Themes. With much less to focus on then a full-length feature Carpenter really elevates and draws the most out of the fewer ingredients he works with and in doing so, truly distils the essence of his craft.

In practice and the long term of most, they're hysterically fun, but perhaps easier to admire in the abstract than really adore, unless you're a 17-year-old girl or bored at a festival.

In moving away from the vestiges of full-on noise that defined his previous two albums, Luke Younger has paradoxically come up with a work that packs more punch than either.

[Fingers is] fifteen tricksy, itchy, endlessly inventive footwork belters, which do little more than uphold the finest tenets of the genre, and are perfectly laudable for that.

Unfortunately, with an appropriately filmic, best-part's-in-the-trailer irony, it seems like Timberlake gave away too much by making 'Suit & Tie' the first glimpse of the record. From hereon in, it's a fairly dull affair.

The Switch confirms Body/Head as the best post-Sonic Youth project by a country mile, but to merely classify them as an afterthought of that group does them a great disservice.

'Blogging' opens the album on a high, with Graham Lewis' instantly recognisable bass guitar locking into a four-to-the-floor disco groove between Robert Grey's drums and squelchy synth stabs, rewriting the Bible using a contemporary, internet-generation terminology of "Google style maps", "Amazon Wishlist" and "Blackberry Hedgefunds." 'Shifting' similarly applies the language of espionage and global politics to the end of a relationship, over a melodic, summery sway that nevertheless maintains the band's customary sense of distance.

There is no getting around the fact Big Wheel And Others is a slog on first listen and will always remain so for some. Yet McCombs is nothing if not a songwriter who knows catchiness: somehow, each of these songs is memorable for its structure and compositional bite, though some are better than others.

Meat And Bones is a welcome return from a band whose absence has been keenly felt over these last few years

Lament proves itself to be a remarkably effective listen because it is an utterly egoless record; a record that, in binding many stories from all sides, creates a feeling that is ultimately sans-patrie.

An important component to the Paraorchestra’s practice is melding analogue, digital, and assistive instruments. The results, as heard across these eight ambitious compositions, are completely spellbinding. ...

Rites Of Percussion is a fine addition to the lineage of drum albums largely thanks to his sense of intuition.

Remix collections tend to be a mixed bag. Mixes Of A Lost World is no different.

There are moments where Frost is clearly the architect and noise tamer, orchestrating becalmed undulations that offer repose, often of lament rather than of hope. ... Yet there are just as many moments when Frost lets his muse fuse with unadorned, unadulterated noise, creating arpeggios of tension that ratchet up steadily, the life raft tipping over, all feeling of equilibrium and control ripping away from the listener and composer both.

Its use of frayed tones and frequencies as the organising basis for movement and propulsion allows the music to seep into the cracks and pores of the space around you, extracting the anxiety and dread inherent hidden in our world around us. Embrace the abyss and enjoy.

This project with 1-800 DINOSAUR is--for the most part--genuinely refreshing.

This album sneaks up on you. It swiftly moves from easy-listening to music to obsess over. If you listen to it through cheap earphones on a crowded train, the intricacy of the production behind this album could be missed. It’s only when you invest attention, time (and good speakers) that you truly begin to revel in its wonders. To be able to relate with the messiness of Gartland’s emotional journey is to feel at one with a talented artist.

Certainly, Pinkshinyultrablast have their sonic template firmly in place but it's difficult to shake the feeling that without a greater focus on melody and sharper songwriting there remains a very real danger of their efforts vanishing into the haze like so many decaying chords fed through a series of delay pedals.

There's a sense of fun on Shadow Of The Sun--an almost giddy joy at music-making – that earlier records lacked. The band's songwriting, however, remains as straightforward as ever.

There are moments when the repetitive nature of some of the tracks does wear on you a little bit. ... But these are mere moments of filler on PL, an album which cements the reason why Paranoid London’s tunes appeal to a scene looking for a sound that’s rugged, dark, and illicit. And in that regard, PL has it in spades.

On the surface, Garson’s album (not least the directive that it was to be played to help plants grow) seemed typical of that drift. Beneath the heavy topsoil of kneejerk A&R, however, a deceptively nuanced and downright irresistible feat of pure electronic minimalism lay in wait.

I’ve not yet had the chance to hear this music in its natural setting, but perhaps more than any funk full length, Radio Libertadora! gives a real indication of what that might be like.

Mosquito may conjure a similar frenzy to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' previous three albums, but it paints a disjointed picture of the band's turbulent history, on an already messy canvass

This is an album that knows just how toxically repellent it is and it's this self-assured ferocity that makes for such an enjoyable whirlwind of a listen.

Each song has a very different message, although it is the highlife feeling that stays with the listener.

It's full of memorable lines and nagging hooks, but also the sense of something ungraspable, resistant to easy interpretation.

State Of Run doesn’t reinvent the wheel: it touches on the arch grandeur of Varg, the trap-leaning stutter of Planet Mu labelmates Sinjin Hawke and Zora Jones, and the deconstructive spirit of 2013/14-era Goon Club Allstars. But the trio’s attention to detail shines through, and the full-length format gives them space and time to execute their rich visions.

All in all, there is freshness and intrigue for those that need it--and for those that don't, a reliable consistency with their 90s incarnation.

Even if Nocturne isn't going to shove Wild Nothing to the front of any groundbreaking movement, it's still a really good record, made by a guy who likes really good records and who seems really happy to share the refinement of his craft with us.

The album rewards as time passes. Initially tracks change relentlessly and the notion of fifteen more feels like a chore, but by Quickies’ end you’ve encountered so many characters and so many songwriting modes that this slight album feels like an entire populated universe. The Magnetic Fields have pulled off their old trick of reminding you that there can be something to a gimmick after all.

A record that ranges widely without ever feeling tacked-together. A real feat of production.

The Gamble is an engaging opening salvo, which one hopes will become the first statement of an ongoing narrative.

Seven Steps Behind requires being listened to in a relaxed manner without anticipation, treating the whole as potent, highly dynamic background music.

With Deep England, she drills into the marrow of a nation that in 2021 doesn’t really know itself and possibly doesn’t want to. The result is a fever dream splicing of Pan’s Labyrinth and a cider binge beneath an underpass that has got out of hand and turned unexpectedly nasty.

It takes a couple of plays for the songs to individually stand out. Simon le Bon’s still remarkably youthful voice remains the most recognisable element but John Taylor’s bass and Nick Rhodes’s ear for keyboard shade come into their own, while Roger Taylor retains his steady presence on drums.

Idle No More is evidence that this band is serious (sometimes) and it's in it for the long haul.

Gonzalez's intricate, mellifluous guitar playing is not front and center, but committed followers of this side of his artistry will certainly be satisfied.

Instead of trying to recapture the magic of their formative years, Hatori and Honda have written and produced a meta-comeback record about the impulses that inspire artists to reunite.

It may just be Anthrax's most consistent material since Among The Living in 1987.

It's Up To Emma is as blatant an intimate reckoning with betrayal, anger and pain as it gets and yet it's Scout Niblett's most sonorous, most beautiful album to date.

Smoke has certainly raised the stakes for any aspiring Chicago producer in creating the most consolidated longform effort in the genre to date.

Ultimately, Requiem is something of a mixed bag and you can’t blame a band as idiosyncratic as Goat for trying to break out. But Goat seem to be too consciously searching around for a new route forward rather than going with their instincts.

In and of itself, EUSA is a beautiful piece of work that acts as an aural snapshot of one man’s vision of security and peace.

Despite this crippling reliance on traditional psychedelic touchstones, there’s certainly a few thrills to be had on the album, and things do pick up somewhat toward the second half of the work.

Devout is bold, fascinating and sweet, then, with moments of melodic brilliance and sonic mastery. But taken as a whole, the result is slightly unpalatable. As a good father Mr Mitch undoubtedly knows that too many sweets can upset the stomach. And the same logic applies to Devout: you need some some roughage to balance out the sugary treats.

It is in that setting [an art gallery], unfortunately, which appears to be the most appropriate for The Flaming Lips’ latest release as neither the story or music are dynamic enough to hold the listener’s attention over an extended period.

Recorded in Budapest with a 40-piece string orchestra in tow, the Iris soundtrack feels far too paint-by-numbers, gathering yearning strings to ebb and flow atop xeroxed prairies of arpeggiating synths. It’s muzak for gritty thrillers, maintaining a thin soup of emotion with enough colour to paint the background without muddying the foreground.

More than a mere souvenir or stopgap, Versions is a sumptuous release that affirms both the increasingly unique and essential nature of Zola Jesus' music and the enduring genius of JG Thirlwell.

None of this feels glib, not in the circumstances, and not when the music steers clear of mush to come out gorgeous, taut and streamlined.

In Warpaint, they've mastered the mid-tempo come-on, being to indie rock what Aaliyah was to R&B.

In The Shape Of Things Foxx, ably assisted by his new lieutenants and always with one eye on dreams of an imagined future, continues to make his most startlingly contemporary sounding music in years.

Crucially, this is an album lacks cynicism and one that bathes in a love of its antecedents so deep that the final results are as seductive and mesmerising as their live show.

On Samba he has returned to uphold the majestic grace that made his father’s music so compelling. Within the traditions of the music he is playing Touré continues to develop his own sound world.

This album is an excellent opening entry into what will hopefully be a new series of releases from Kaukolampi, one which rewards returning visits to the places beyond the restrictions of both gravity and mundanity.

Despite the heavy subject matter, the album feels optimistic and imbued with a belief in the potential for humanity’s transformation.

At times Soap&Skin recalls Fever Ray, not in sound but in essence: something dark, oblique and stinging lies at the core; both artists combine an emphatic sense of place with molten identity.

Ballads Of Harry Houdini is more like a spiritual sequel to the rockier and cross-genre Highway Songs from 2016. It feels deceptively slimmer with just six songs, rather than nine. In fact, its total running time is ten minutes longer. Maybe more focused, then?

‘Alreet?’ feels as raw and as singular as any record Lewis has previously made. And it might be one of his best too, which I appreciate is a bold claim.

Wonky is Orbital's most pop album; it's supremely, relentlessly, even ruthlessly melodic, and laden with irresistible momentum throughout.

Ultimately, this is a celebration, rather than an analysis, of several species of awfulness.

Odonis Odonis is evolving. Though, for now, they seem to sound a bit more like yesterday than tomorrow.

While World, You Need A Change Of Heart is pleasing in places, solid it certainly ain't.

Throughout the album, Allen’s lyrics remain devastatingly frank. ... No Shame might sound more mellow than her earlier razor-sharp sass, but beneath the surface lies a gloom, one I’m glad Lily lets us see.

Everything is Beautiful/Everything Sucks is a fun album that allows Frasqueri to show both sides of her personality. ... The main problem with Everything is Beautiful/Everything Sucks is that it doesn’t contain anything as devastating as ‘G.O.A.T.’, ‘Tomboy’ or ‘Kitana’. The songs never quite hit the same vein of intensity, catchiness and lyrical abstraction. There are moments when it comes close.

Ypres is an eloquent meditation on such complacency, on valour and its misuse, as well as a memorial to the battles, and war, that was meant to end them all.

This album falls victim to the more-is-more syndrome. It douses otherwise stronger and more distinctive songs in far more reverb and echo than it needs.

Multi-Task doesn’t rock the boat too much; if anything it is more streamlined, less abrasive, ready to be swallowed whole.

It's impressively focussed and musically adventurous, stirring elements of goth, post-punk, neo-folk and avant-noise into some perplexing shapes.

Each track is executed to perfection as Santi morphs with chameleonic pizzazz.

Ultimately, Aventine is a triumph of carefully sustained mood; of a sadness that is not so much overbearing as it beautiful, and one that lingers in the silences between listens of this unusual, unusually compelling record.

Now everything is dark and obscure, ghostly, as if moving in slow motion, bursting here and there in a few powerful and desperate explosions, mainly when Soko and Argento get to sing.

Unlike the cohesiveness of earlier releases, Echtzeit has the feel of a compendium of sketches playing upon inherent strengths within Roedelius's considerable back catalogue. However, what it lacks in experiential probing is made up for by the simple fact of Echtzeit being a nice place to dwell and linger.

It's an enjoyable, occasionally frustrating ride, and one that takes a few listens to sink in, even if its just to unburden yourself of your expectations.

Light Divide is difficult to find one's way into--it's not welcoming, and it's not unwelcoming enough to announce itself with a metal or noise record's sense of authority.

What could and should have been a coolly assured olympic plunge is instead a remarkably ungainly near-belly-flop of an album, weirdly devoid of the dense musicality, crooked charm and sheer kinetic potency which characterise Ghersi's works to date. ... The problem with KiCk i's particular brand of spontaneity is that it feels procedural and expository, rather than organic. It can seem, when the smoke clears here and there, a bit hollow.

What These New Puritans offer with Inside The Rose is something rich, deep and warm, constantly shifting, challenging. This is art for the head, for the heart, for the soul.

Valtari is by no means a bad record; it's extremely easy to enjoy. It's even beautiful at times. Unfortunately, it's even easier to forget.

There are just too many occasions where Malkmus' tone bypasses droll, flies directly over kitsch, and lands way out in the rough with no hope of ever retrieving the ball.

There's something exhausting about this manic exuberance, too. All rush and almost no plateau, it's so fidgety and full of swarming textures that it wears you down.

Fashion Week is the most vibrant and least menacing collection of tracks Death Grips have released.

Two sounds like Owls really ought to in 2014--as melancholic and complex as they've always been whilst expanding their sound as a second album should.

Luminous is a great record, but it's an awkward bugger at times, and I suspect that in the long run the album will prove all the more rewarding for just that reason.

Hippo Lite is somehow softer, more palatable, indeed liter than DRINKS’s previous output, but not at the expense of the punchy attitude, the sense of humour, which has made them so captivating from the beginning.

The fractured fairy tales of their full-length debut Lady Parts will assuredly satisfy both those old Prefuse 73 fans and newer listeners who enjoy a sensible amount of weirdness in their mixes.

It is left to the listener to piece through these lyrical asides to find meanings of his or her own rather being led by the nose, which only makes Ancestor Boy all the more thrilling, especially when its driven by such an effective, powerful production.

Clockwork Angels is an extremely accomplished piece of music composed and performed absolutely flawlessly.

If nothing else, this album is a guitar fetishist's dream, and sounds like it was a joy to make, too.

Numan's appropriation of Arabic musical patterns, textures and instruments can make for mildly uncomfortable listening at first, but on repeated plays these are the moments that really stand out. His decision to directly incorporate these less familiar (to the western ear) musical mores into his already alien-sounding style pays off.

While space rock might never be considered high art, when it begets nine tracks as riveting and white-hot as those on Shape Shift there's little you can do but submit.

These very personal surges of sound swell in the ether, seeking out like-minded listeners. His “Audio Virus” – a collection of electronic hardware items that range from the esoteric to the obsolete – purrs like a living being. The hums and crackles it emits, a constant feature as one track slides into the next. Whilst that sounds cold and machine-like, the lunges of notes often reach heart-wrenching heights.

Whether due to Gurnsey and Void’s developing rapport, or the honing of their collective sound, 25 25 packs the immense sort of punch that descriptions of their live shows recount.

What this amounts to is a collection that’s a good way in to the work of a songwriter whose output is three decades strong and a welcome addition to Tweedy’s discography in its own right.