This time it’s only a partial reinvention, but by the time the huge guitars and stereo panning of One More Hour fade away, there’s no doubt that Kevin Parker is a man with his own unique sense of time.

This is probably one for Veirs purists, but such is the standard of her songwriting that even among these sketches, there’s some real gems to be found.

The cut-deep lyrics throughout the record paired with well-crafted sounds are sad, yet comforting. Cassyette has created an album that lyrically feels like a shoulder to cry on while sonically is an empowering outburst of rock.

Miss Anthropocene is an uneven record, and one that arrives with considerable baggage that threatens to turn it into a punching bag. But Grimes' proven abilities as a producer win out. There are superfluous, overlong passages, especially when the brightness in her music drains away.

A record that never quite seems to find its feet, despite having a plethora of creative and interesting ideas.

Hazier, more hypnotic, and like most sequels--yeah--not as effective, it’s hamstrung by an uncharacteristically grating synth refrain. While not bad, it’s hard to shake the feeling of déjà vu.

More importantly, though, it’s a different one; another good record in an outstanding discography and hard proof that a goodbye from Teenage Fanclub at this stage would be woefully premature.

There are hints of the band's more dynamic past on Eucalyptus, Tropic Morning News and Grease In Your Hair. But on the whole, First Two Pages of Frankenstein is an excellent exploration into recovery from depression, passion and addiction and is one of the finest records The National have released in quite some time.

Too often the album feels like a case of enacting genres rather than letting their influence seep in. It leaves the record feeling like a grab bag of ideas, some of which have been polished to brilliance, others of which haven’t been fully realised. There’s clearly a great album in there, just one that never quite gets the momentum to show itself.

The record is at its best when it retains the sense of adventure that has defined their earlier work.

Sprawling, magnificent, dangerous and fantastical; this beast is--however extraordinary--an apt representation of the 11-song extravaganza it adorns here.

Warmly mature yet never dull, this is a rare treat.

d. If you’ve followed either Moore or Falkner, it’s certainly a curio. Everyone else--life is way too short.

While certainly not a work for casual listening, NO TITLE AS OF 13 FEBRUARY 2024, 28,340 DEAD is, in all of its warped, noisy instrumentation, the embodiment of music as art. Removed from corporate influence, conventional song segmentation, and algorithmically tuned track lengths, Godspeed You! Black Emperor are free to convey a message uncompromised.

An album that functions seamlessly as a listen-in-one-sitting affair, with enough memorable stand-alone moments to keep the club contingent happy, Bicep's debut is a clear front-runner for best house record of the year.

Overall, Black Hole Superette contains a number of fun and novel songs delivered with a remarkably detailed writing style. What really lets the project down is a lack of variety across an overly long tracklist.

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

Jepsen’s knack for lyrics that hit on the mostly-fun but often-fraught world of romantic relationships is also still in full effect.

By all accounts this fusion of genres should feel awkward and unworkable, but Ziúr fuses these elements together with the precision of a mad scientist unaware of the monster they’ve just created.

Spiral is a more settled affair. Jaar and Harrington lean into rhythm and repetition more here, not willing to pull out the same number of jump scares just for the sake of it, a masterclass in the art of precision and withholding.

White Lies have succeeded in creating an album with much more scope that is a testament to the enduring nature of their sound. Five denotes a chapter in the band’s career but it does by no means symbolise the end of White Lies.

It’s a record that sees Doyle take chances, not all of which pay off by any means, but it is one that never truly coalesces into a great album in the way his last two records have. That said, he remains a figure who is always interesting and developing.

While previous Oh Sees tunes have tended toward explorations of mood, spread out over a krautrock-scented riff or two, here individual songs find themselves bursting at the seams with ideas.

While bracing throwbacks, they serve to obscure his new insights. Baldi’s certainly matured; all he needs now is for his music to catch up.

A cathartic release following years of volatility and instability. It feels like the most important record of his career, as he works through his internal and external conflicts to, ultimately, find peace.

Paradise is a better pop record but less immediately fun than previous offerings.

Teenage Fanclub sound refreshed, renewed and remarkably like themselves as Endless Arcade reveals an old group with some new tricks sounding in rude health.

Generally speaking, while it's a solid return for the group, it's likely to leave some wanting more, aching for some real catharsis or a change of gear here and there.