Invite The Light is determinedly adventurous. [Dec 2015, p.46]

Dunn’s production is broad and volatile yet retains a measure of mainstream appeal. At all times Danilova’s voice threatens to destroy – the compositions that try to contain her, the recording equipment that seems to clip and distort, reverb effects that overload and scream, speakers and ears that feel like they might melt from the sheer intensity. She’s never sounded better than this. [Jun 2022, p.48]

The thrill of Fetch is in its precision, its Bachian joy in maths. [Dec 2013, p.54]

Despite the use of repetition and layering, Street Horrsing's sonic make-up is often unpredictable, which is where their strength stems from. [Apr 2008, p.57]

All of the six songs feel epic in structure, each gradually building from a subtle breeze into a fiery windstorm as Michael and John Gibbons's sustained guitar mantras bleed into each other. [May 2017, p.44]

A feeling of survival against the odds often permeates his music. Personally I would have enjoyed a few more drum-backed beats, but even those without are crafted to a point of excellence. [Dec 2021, p.63]

Big | Brave roars into action with the immense “Carriers, Farriers And Knaves” and proceeds through five subsequent tracks whose heaviness is substantially derived from a keen sense of texture – abetted and encouraged by producer Seth Manchester – and the anguished wail of guitarist/vocalist Robin Wattie. [Apr 2023, p.64]

His curatorial vision is matched by vocals which have never sounded so assured and impressively soulful. [Apr 2023, p.58]

Revel in the poppy darkness of Beaches--sunset drenched “ba-ba-ba” vocals, upfront drums and twangy guitars--but also marvel as the Australian psych rockers draw out their swirling sounds into extended hypnotic workouts on this double album. [Oct 2017, p.64]

Companion Rises does not choose between the structure of a catchy acoustic guitar motif and those sometimes abrasive electric moments where composure is allowed to drift away. Instead it opts to combine them. [Mar 2020, p.56]

Like Eye Of I and The Messthetics & James Brandon Lewis, it seeks to engage a larger audience while remaining true to the musical values that Lewis has affirmed throughout his career. [Mar 2025, p.51]

The combination of Robert's artistry and the exemplary ensemble backing him means the album succeeds in being a renewal. [Jan 2013, p.63]

Fans of retro-styled chamber pop should find the vibes here to be exquisite. That said, Mering cleverly balances the sumptuousness with a lyrical orientation that taps into a universal melancholy, cutting through the fog of nostalgia with a sober, contemporary sensibility. [Jan 2023, p.74]

The London based producer integrates his maternal Polish roots in the spotty, fragmented and incidental way that only a truly intercultural artist can. [Sep 2018, p.49]

This Valley is deeper and wider, thanks in no small part to Gelb’s voice, which has matured beautifully over the decades while retaining its waywardness. It’s exceedingly rare that a Gelb/Sand release is a waste of time, and Returns doesn’t buck that trend. [Sep 2018, p.63]

With its mix of anxiety, fun and catharsis, it provides a compelling listen for a tumultuous year. [Oct 2020, p.56]

DJ Paypal's take on footwork does to R&B, disco and 1980s adult contemporary smoothness what sometime collaborators AG Cook and SOPHIE of PC Music do to bubblegum ad teeny pop. [Dec 2015, p.47]

On How The Thing Sings, Orcutt reveals a more open vision. [Oct 2011, p.58]

His most intimate work to date. [Jan 2015, p.68]

Wow, does it reward your attention. [Feb 2015, p.54]

An album whose fragmentary and ephemeral structure is mirrored in its often ethereal, distant sound. [Mar 2013, p.54]

From its cryptic title to its discombobulating assemblage of stylistic approaches in the track listing, Oil Of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides is chaotic and disjointed. ... Bringing a range of seemingly contrasting elements together, SOPHIE has been problematising commonly accepted binaries since dropping the berserk dance pop of “BIPP” on Glasgow’s Numbers label in 2013. [Sep 2018, p.49]

Nearly a quarter of a century after its initial release, My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts remains a beautifully finished work, despite its complexity: every line and fragment in place, every surface and effect neatly separated out. [#266, p.56]

Aesop’s penchant for storytelling – particularly on “100 Feet Tall” and “Aggressive Steven” – is still incredibly engaging, delivering a fraught narrative that touches on mental health, exploitation of the vulnerable and human responses to corporate stimuli. [Jan/Feb 2024, p.77]

There are still hints of Gnod's more psychedelic aspect, but these tracks feel lean, stripped back and sharp-eyed. [May 2017, p.46]

Devour is unwaveringly formless; drills, drones and hysterical screeches become food for trauma. It’s frightening, at many points torturous, but not without emotional weight. The record mirrors what oppression really looks, sounds and feels like – no pool parties, ice tea, sunglasses and shiny colour palettes, just untamed agony, screaming and pain. [Sep 2019, p.60]

The sound has a new depth. [#249, p.65]

The sonic immensity and detail of the album, an extended paean to the power of the imagination, with the feel of a dark fairy tale, rivals the most ostentatious of Bob Ezrin's productions for Alice Cooper, Kiss and Lou Reed. [Dec 2015, p.50]