For the most part, the songs here are less immediately grabbing than those on his EPs, with greater emphasis on atmosphere than thumping beats, but they share the same glitchy DNA.

Short and snappy it may be--its 12 tracks are done and dusted within half an hour--yet the band still manage to cultivate dramatic intent amidst the jangly guitars and posturing hooks.

It sounds uniformly excellent – often radiantly sunny – but for an album concerned with wheel-spinning, it spends a lot of time doing exactly that.

If you already enjoy the band's sound, whether in fervent adoration or in a passing fondness, Keep On Smiling won’t turn you off. It might not be a game changer, but if you already like the game, thats not a problem.

While it is enormous fun, there should be no expectation of a 'shock of the new'; it can feel, somewhat, like ConMan are treading water.

Album opener Angel Fire make it tempting to categorise Vessel of Love as an uplifting summer album. Yet Cook’s lyrics contain a haunting melancholia, touching on love and survival to create a bittersweet effect. There's a hidden depth to her breezy pop that will stay with listeners for days.

At its best, Time's Arrow is mystical but commanding, with electric synthscapes pulling you deeper inward. However, at times the sonic landscape they’ve created risks suffocation, leaving little room for manoeuvre between one song to the next – a lighter touch in areas could stand to draw out more subtle nuances and make for a more compelling journey overall.

Frances’s voice has a tendency to sway into a mumble throughout, making certain vantages into her world a strain to perceive – unfortunately lending itself to the album’s mysterious nature a little too well.

It feels unsure of itself, and what it wants to achieve. ... On the other hand, this sense of insecurity within the album rewards standout tracks.

There's a definite sense of deja vu, and maybe there's less of the bite that made the Durham band's debut Courting Strong feel so vital... but when the band kick into heavier tracks like Goldman's Detective Agency, it's free-wheeling, cathartic goodness.

My Name Is Safe In Your Mouth is warm and intimate, offering a moment of reflection and introspection.

Weatherall is known for bucking trends, forging his own path in electronic music and this album undoubtedly has an experimental, narcotic-tinged feel meaning Qualia will not be for everyone. An album for the heads.

Although Cogan delivers engaging and empathetic lyrics on growing up, changing relationships and even environmentalism, the album has a rather homogenous pace. Despite this, it’s hard not to at least be momentarily charmed by Tallies' nostalgic trip.

Good Nature plods along at a pleasant pace, but there's nothing here you won't have heard elsewhere before.

he languid mid-tempo tones are certainly pleasant and, on the likes of Wildwood, sometimes capture a sense of achingly beautiful melancholia. Still, you’re left longing for Amos’s social commentary to be laced with just a little more venom to truly conjure the state of upheaval in the world.

Between its moderate tempos and spartan production, In Between seems designed to turn as few heads as possible and at first even comes across a tad glum. ... With a little patience though, its sunnier side shines through. All the hallmarks of The Feelies' sound are present, but in a pleasantly subdued state.

Despite some over-zealous Top 40 attempts, High Expectations is a well-rounded pop record.

While Dance On the Blacktop is a fair attempt at taking forward their sound, unfortunately, it feels more like a regression.

Heads Up will still please some fans, and the band will be able to work some of these tracks into respectable live numbers; they’ll even win new listeners. The problem for devotees of the band’s earlier work, and for anyone who’s seen them live, is that they’ll cherish the memory of what Warpaint could (and probably still can) do.

Deaf Havana have moved with the times but it isn’t all sugar-coated and there’s still enough emotion to drive us towards their music.

The constantly shifting mood makes it difficult to settle into a rhythm, which may be due to the missing visual element, but there are more than enough well-executed left turns on Ugly Season to make a solid standalone album.

When Campbell does make bold sonic choices, such as on the spacey centrepiece Dopamine, you yearn for more of that, and less of the interchangeably delicate instrumentals on many of the other songs. Still, Campbell’s voice remains a welcome balm in terms of both sound and messaging.

The Nashville Sound isn't a bad record by any estimation, but there are flat moments.

While Nearer My God isn’t always successful, the imagination behind it is more than enough to give it your time.

On the back half of the record, the production turns towards the kind of lo-fi psychedelia of Stereolab and Broadcast, Clairo embodying Trish Keenan’s detached delivery, another previously unseen aspect of her artistry she wears well. Like Sling, Charm is a grower of an album, Clairo growing with it.

It's to Dacus's credit that Forever is a Feeling still feels grounded in the same raw emotions and subtle details that have rightly made her a star. That said, there is a certain amount of playing it safe.

While Power is sonically different to the rest of the band’s outings, and a solid release that keeps their ever-consistent discography ticking over, it’s perhaps not as vibrant as previous efforts.

There's a point during Transuranic Heavy Elements where the bludgeoning beats pause and something (Guitars? You? The earth?) begins to howl, and you think: This is probably not for everyone.

An Obelisk is by no means a bad record. Each of its songs are solid if not spectacular, and Stickles’ lyrics are always interesting, but as an album it is let down by a lack of variety. You’re left thinking that there’s probably a single great album to be made out of their last two records.

The Great Bailout, while resting handily within her trademark virulent atmospheres and spoken word, is among her most impenetrable and least entertaining from a practical sense. This is not a fault of the record, but a necessary and expected byproduct of its existence, as each track runs up to ten minutes in a dirge of menacing poetry with instrumentals more evocative of a sinister mood-piece than a traditional song

When it works well on the record it’s sublime, these snapshots sculpting little scenes, feeding just enough to intrigue but remain elusive. .... However, when it doesn’t connect, as on THE CUT DEPICTS THE CUT, these mutations feel needy, like they're born out of a fear the listener will get bored if there aren’t fireworks every 15 seconds, rather than it being necessarily what is best for the song.

Moments of rock brilliance are scarce. Your Take On, with dissonant 60s-esque guitars and talk-singing, is a jolt from whisper-soft vocals surrounding 2022’s Inner World Peace. Later tracks see development sacrificed for quantity. Despite treading familiar territory, Different Talking’s soothing melodies are tailor-made to accompany life's quiet corners.

A selection of often very solid songs that waivers a touch towards its back end, but nonetheless marks another solid entry to the output of an always interesting artist.

Nap Eyes are mostly concise in their wanderings, but occasionally meander too far from the path.

Although all of the tracks on the record blend seamlessly together, many sadly sound similar to the last, with only a few stand-outs such as Superbloodmoon, a collaboration with American singer-songwriter d4vd.

These nine tracks prioritise serenity and beauty in their evocation of some unknowable beyond. Their sparkle can become almost too perfect, which makes the dark abruptness of the last two pieces feel like release, even if they throw its general hopefulness into uncertainty.

Although not completely original or life changing, this collection of songs provides a fresh angle on the early days of Friendly Fires and Tame Impala; with such a talent for refreshing the past, who knows what will come next.

While the album can feel sluggish at times, Ring’s knack for constructing textured sonic architecture is still a draw.

For the most part we're in familiar territory: the sounds are familiar, the production is crisp and the songs are full of the colour of widescreen Americana.

While they may not have completely achieved seventh heaven here, 7 is still a solid first step heralding Beach House’s next phase.

Essentially, while Hunter is fiercely conveying an important message, one's enjoyment will depend on the unsubtle nature of the message or the slightly formulaic nature of the music – but with openers as soaring as Galapagos, it sure is hard to resist.

Ultimately Honey is one of the more interesting experiments in the use of AI, but in this case it feels like a watering down of emotional impact from an artist who has never had an issue when it comes to capturing hearts and moving bodies.

The resulting album feels like an exercise in understatement, and contextually it’s difficult to know whether it’s a case of self-restraint or a situation in which the shackles are being enforced.

Some Nights I Dream of Doors feels like a real expression of Umoh’s wide-ranging influences and it succeeds in showcasing his diverse vocal range. However, at times it feels restrained and, for an artist as unique as Umoh, it feels like a missed opportunity.

Producers Marius De Vries and Eldad Guettta, alongside the Valve Bone Woe Ensemble, have helped Hynde find the sweet spots on a selection of songs that bring to mind Iggy Pop's excursions into jazz or the sound of Bob Dylan's recent covers collections.

Eschewing electronic production flourishes in favour of some analogue authenticity, Any Day eventually settles into its groove. The melodies are intricate and layered, but the impressive musicality is outweighed by a lack of urgency.

There’s plenty of the usual Amyl fare here, with some absolute stompers right out of the gate.

It sometimes roars to life, while other tracks present a flat wall of noise. Gina Was emerges as the album’s most musically complete moment, showing what they can do when it all comes together.

Girl at the End of the World is, on one level, more of the same: bulging arrangements; hefty half-hooks; Tim Booth's screwy commentary connecting somewhere to the left of immediately comprehensible. But it's also intelligent, accomplished and likeable.

Perhaps a wee bit too derivative for some--Tres Warren’s scuzzy washed-up vocals evoke Anton Newcombe. Still, there’s enough here to trigger intrigue should you make the effort.

An admirable album concept, sure, but it is this preoccupation with the connections between different genres which robs Electric Lines of a galvanising, driving force.

This is a record that feels handcrafted for the fans that waited so long for new material. Had you already previously invested in their icy yet sleek sound, then Ladytron is a welcome, if not wholly groundbreaking, return.

With more thematic clarity and less of a throw in everything and the kitchen sink attitude, The Age of Anxiety could have been a phenomenal debut for Pixx. Despite the high quality of many of the tracks, however, there’s just a bit too much going on for it to all make sense.

The Andalucian trio's fourth album was recorded live to eight track tape and you can tell: the arrangements are raw, the production barely there, the sound an abrasive, all-consuming clatter. It's an elementary mix but there's a blackened spirituality within its shadows.

The trio certainly thrash away confidently (and with no let-up), but it’s the tangents that offer the biggest thrills.

At times this feels like a celebration of what can be achieved with three chords and an earnest tale, intelligently told.

There are long stretches, particularly during the muted take on V1 in which the pieces are impressive rather than affecting, where you can marvel at Malone’s skill with timbre without being moved in any way. It leaves a sense that the album feels more like one for the most committed fans of all three artists, but one that, given the chance, has some astonishing moments.

TOY continue to put their own unique spin on psychedelia with Happy in the Hollow, and it’s one that clearly works, but ultimately the record lacks in any kind of urgency and doesn’t push much further on what the band have already achieved with previous albums.

A couple of the more traditionally structured techno tracks can feel a little too cold and laboured, sometimes feeling longer than their actual run-time. Despite this, when it pushes boundaries and dips its toe further into avant-garde territory, Family Portrait can be an immersive exploration of dance music.

While an intriguing return to Dwyer's roots and to Dawson's charming voice, Memory of a Cut Off Head is a typically strange experience from OCS and one which might not translate to newer fans of the band looking for their trademark psyche-punk sound.

Even in Arcadia offers a window into the band’s psyche, while keeping audiences at arm’s length while inviting them to lose themselves in its emotional depths.

For newcomers, it may feel too uniform to stand out. But for longtime fans, Not For Lack of Trying offers cosy autumnal listening and a continued exploration of dodie’s style.

He’s skilled enough to make it sound agile and purposeful. You’ve heard the individual parts before though, with more range, colour, and taste. It’s Alright Between Us… will do its job, but on the cheap.

Despite a relatively concise tracklist of ten songs, at points the 45-minute runtime seems to drag on, giving the album a sense of heaviness. Not dissimilar ambient sounds wash into one another – overall perhaps a more pared-down curation could better highlight the album’s strengths.

The record is an interesting proposition, and one that, while never quite hitting the nail on the head of what it could be, still offers glimpses of what both artists are capable of.

Which isn’t to say that she gets everything right--the new arrangements of both Killer and Georgia lack the immediacy of their originally released versions--but when she does, you can see her making a long career of this.

Unlikely as it is to bust them out of the indie ghettoes, Coldharbourstores’ unexpected return is a very lovely thing indeed.

Apart from a few tonal blips (Taken By The Tide may well be a smuggled-in Band of Horses track, and 1985’s piano ballad proves an idling mid-point), Curve... is a remarkably slick experience.

They are perfect encapsulations of the snarky, fuck-you attitude that has been suppressed in the last couple of Wavves releases, but they don't have the scrappy, lo-fi charm that endeared fans to the band seven or eight years ago.

Ever the musical misfits, Blood Red Shoes’ righteous spirit remains even if their sound is a shape-shifting entity.

There isn’t much depth to the lyrics. This album is about feel. ... For once this is a Ladytron album to listen to in the sunshine.

The xx are moving forward, but they don’t know quite where they’re headed.

Overt beats don’t appear until the sixth stanza, bass conspicuous by its absence pretty much throughout, yet whilst the themes can occasionally run away with themselves through lack of definite direction or concrete dénouement, 3.5 Degrees remains an accomplished debut.

While stylistically The War on Drugs have never released anything revolutionary, A Deeper Understanding lacks that spark that their previous releases had, which could well be due in part to their move to a new major label home.

Marble Skies finds difficulty in consolidating each defining element into a smooth blend, leading to a record that’s bookended by heart-stopping tracks with a frustratingly stodgy middle passage.

Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life is the sound of a band maturing and evolving, having come a long way from their first meeting in Liverpool. Now that they're 15 years and four albums in they know what works, and still have an ear for a catchy melody.

Alpha Zulu is everything a Phoenix album has been already: slick, silly, maximalist. ... They mine nostalgia for call-backs (Tonight); find comedy in impending doom (Alpha Zulu). But the boys are ageing and, separated initially by lockdown, an emotional core burned a hole in the centre of this new record instead of a six-minute space-bound instrumental.

Baker doesn’t shy away from the weight of depression, but depending on your emotional state, the album is either cathartic or overbearing.

Ultimately, though, Close It Quietly doesn’t sound particularly exciting or new, but it certainly succeeds at its intentions – it’s a triumphant album for people that find catharsis in indie pop’s niceness.

Overall, Learning How to Live and Let Go fluctuates in tone. But this doesn’t negate the clear effort the band have put into making this record a lot more experimental than any of their previous releases, and it’s still chock full of heart and vulnerability in its lyrical content.

Compassion may not feel complete yet, but it’s an exciting portent of what may yet come.

However, for as many tunes that feel dynamic in their constant morphing there are a good few that never quite find their way beyond a bunch of interesting noises.

Barbara... is less massive comeback than slight return.

Despite its title, New Ways doesn’t break boundaries or really see Vollebekk break out of his typecast. But it is nonetheless a nice, warm album.

There are some moments here that feel a bit too languid--but SASAMI is still the sound of an artist stepping into the limelight and forging their own distinctive sound.

Despite the obvious Tame Impala similarities, sir Was manages to carve out his own brand of psychedelic pop on Digging A Tunnel, leaning more towards funk, soul and hip-hop than classic psych-rock. Plus, you’ve got to hand it to him for trying to make bagpipes happen.

Whilst it's good Buffalo Tom are still around, and while there are enough moments that recall the highs of their vintage years, there is also a corresponding sense in which we and they have all gotten a little bit older and perhaps, just perhaps, they're not quite what they once were.

These two tracks [This Time and Loving] crest an emotional peak that isn’t quite matched elsewhere.

At 16 tracks the album does slightly outstay its welcome, and in its latter stages it begins to feel like ideas are being repeated, but with less focus and immediacy.

It’s a testament to Loma’s abilities as sonic world-builders that a number of tracks sound less like traditional songs than they do field recordings from shadowy, secluded habitats somewhere far from civilisation.

A hint of musical theatre elsewhere sees the record lose some of its bite, but in general it’s a robust rejoinder to some of the more depthless musicality of soul-baring, 'authentic', indie-rock. Kirby is instead funny, scathing and full of clarity about her personal epiphanies.

The record is a bit slow to get going, and at times meanders into excessive atmosphere – next to The Slow's Bullet's ambient fuzz, the urgent jungle rhythms on Higher and Devotion in particular pop. But Avery is engaging with the art of the album as a sum of its parts, and from start to finish conjures a fantastical, dreamlike world.

There’s nothing wrong whatsoever with How Do You Spell Heaven, it’s just that Pollard works best when walking the wire between fucked-up weirdness and acts of songwriting genius, and wobbling either side. Here he’s looking towards neither heaven nor hell; simply trudging (albeit stylishly) on terra firma.

Resigning itself to well-trodden paths, Venus seems curiously content charting no new territory.

Although the project offers quality in production and vocals, tracks like Roller Coaster and Bang Bang Boom fall a little flat with overly repetitive refrains. Despite some hiccups along the way, Brijean have continued to carve out their own sound through an increasing mastery of production and vocal talent. The album achieves dreaminess without sending you to sleep.

For all its bodily closeness, Camila Fuchs hold back on scratching and pinching when they should.

Griff’s debut album is proficient pop, polished and clean – but to the point of sterility. It needs a bit of defilement.

This release marks a new sense of sincerity and authenticity for the band and the thematic issues which the lyrics raise are vocalised in a wonderfully relatable manner, free of any flounce or artifice. However, without humour the album feels a bit flat and even overly morose.