Mr Mitch’s productions are as fastpaced, tight and spirited as his DJ sets. He makes the most of these sparse landscapes, marking a path for a complex of emotions to bleed though. Part of the album’s charm is that Mitch doesn’t shy away from adopting a pop sensibility nor embracing love as his subject matter. [May 2017, p.51]

Marshall’s electronic, krautrock-ish backing tracks extended what Lanegan had previously laid down on previous albums Blues Funeral and Phantom Radio. Gargoyle however has more of an early 1980s UK electronic rock feel, with Lanegan’s rough vocal rasp sawing through musical timbres reminiscent of what was being played out at Manchester’s Factory. [May 2017, p.47]

This is fierce, uncompromising music. [May 2017, p.47]

The pop elements apparent on Uyai are deployed imaginatively and effectively rather than as a means of demonstrating the group's impeccable taste. [May 2017, p.48]

The crisp and urgent execution on this recording has been immaculately produced, the overall result being an immediacy that only an accomplished performer and ensemble can achieve. [May 2017, p.47]

The first half of the album presents a disparate sequence of songs, the punky “I Want To Tell You About Want I Want” mixing with a rather laboured piece about Virginia Woolf’s and Sylvia Plath’s suicides (“Virginia Woolf”). ... This second half finds Hitchcock at his most purposeful. [May 2017, p.46]

Bassist Haz Wheaton and drummer Richard Chadwick provide the solid underpinning, while Brock's knack of fashioning and delivering strong melodic and verbal hooks is plentiful in evidence. [May 2017, p.46]

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

Narkopop has a symphonic majesty, a sense of form and forward movement that no prior Gas record quite reached. Voigt's forest no longer merely murmurs; it positively exults. [May 2017, p.46]

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]

Darran Cunningham's most immediate and body-rocking record to date. [May 2017, p.44]

A warm and immensely good natured record. [Apr 2017, p.63]

The album is strong in the style, but offers no real surprises, with the familiar mixture of clacking Tuareg rhythm and scorched Sahelian riffing best illustrated here by the fiercely motorik “War Toyed”. [Apr 2017, p.63]

The album then settles into a solid groove of high end electro pop with just enough dust to keep it grounded. [Apr 2017, p.62]

His first Ninja Tune album Providence showcases an altogether darker side. [Apr 2017, p.62]

As per usual, Grails prove frustratingly difficult to love or hate. [Apr 2017, p.60]

In Arbouretum’s case the song remains much the same, but its continuation is more than welcome. [Apr 2017, p.60]

Undertow makes great use of Baljo’s guitar and Olson’s saxophone; looping them into churning, oozing grooves that recall the metallic swamp of Gnod’s Infinity Machines LP. Within this sickly ambience, bursts of electronic noise erupt and sputter but never dominate. [Apr 2017, p.59]

Wire’s newest material sounds like a figment of where Roxy Music might have gone if Eno had stuck around. This is most evident on the menacing, glamorous swagger of “Forever And A Day”. But the sound, if grounded in the past, is focused on the present. Wire still make distinctly modern, distinctly European music. [Apr 2017, p.59]

The threat of salvation has never sounded more eerie. Wake In Fright is about the horror of being too much alive, the horror of all the things people do to escape life while forgetting that any attempt at running away from existence only results in a tightening of its shackles. [Apr 2017, p.

The whole album sounds less written, performed and recorded, more like it’s streaming directly from Thundercat’s brain to the listener’s. [Apr 2017, p.57]

The utter rubbishness of Britain, its cruelty, inequality and blatant cultural crapness is once again perfectly captured by Sleaford Mods, a couple of middle aged blokes who are as grizzled and worn as the stuff Williamson shout-sings about. [Apr 2017, p.57]

Now more than ever, political songs need engagement and direct prescription. In that respect Spirit rarely cuts it. But as with many DM albums, it can still resonate in quieter moments such as “Cover Me”, and the group’s continued existence is one of the great love affairs between man and machine in modern music. [Apr 2017, p.56]

Only occasionally, as on the Daft Punk-ish disco of “Real Time” does it feel generic, and when it gets really sophisticated--as on “True” where How To Dress Well sheds his recent 1980s pop affectations to operate in pure (and not in any sense alt) R&B mode--its ambition is clear. [Apr 2017, p.56]

A Common Truth is far more intimate, focusing on arrangements and whispered songs erupting around Foon’s distinctly emotive cello. Due to the shifting blend of fear, despair, togetherness, hope and anger that characterises the battle for climate change awareness, her song cycle aptly seeps its way into all nooks and crannies of the emotional spectrum. [Apr 2017, p.55]

With its crashing together of narcotic pop, serialism and motorik rock, Find Me Finding You is in a similar mould to Sadier’s compatriot Pierre Henry’s concrète pop nugget Psyche Rock. Or, closer to home, Stereolab. [Apr 2017, p.55]

Refusing facsimile, Galás’s music attains its weight and power not from its oddity but from its humanity. [Apr 2017, p.53]

Although the album is ostensibly live, the natural effects Galás can create in her voice places the album in an uncomfortably solitary place, as if the audience has been struck dumb, the piano close, Galás herself able to fly like a spirit to any point within the church’s space. [Apr 2017, p.53]