Whatever reductions Kinawuka and his producers may have made in regards to the music’s breadth, the songs on Small Changes more than compensate for that when it comes to depth. Nor is there anything small about the emotions they contain or the pleasures they evoke. [Review of the Year 2024, p.37]

It’s a tough balance to pull off, but it works seamlessly, and is clearly the result of a band who intuitively understand the dynamics and pull of the dancefloor as much as they do the art of crafting pop, art-rock and the odd indie banger. [Nov 2024, p.43]

Arrangements are denser and somehow tenser than the relaxed studio recordings, with “Partition” building to a fervent drone and “Natural Information” riding a wild groove kept in check by Callahan’s steady vocals. [Oct 2024, p.33]

Cannell makes good on the promise in that music, interfacing with Bingen in convincing ways, her bass recorder and harp improvs. Warped by delay, both are paced and wild, chimeric and oneiric. [Dec 2024, p.33]

It’s a compelling set, from the menacing “Flowers Like The Rain” and quasi-hardcore of “Six Six Seven (Monsieur Faux Pas)” to the gluey, narcotised “Bring It On”. [Oct 2024, p.40]

The 11 songs form a pensive biography of sorts, though perhaps only intermittently about Sid himself. [Nov 2024, p.37]

There are a few stumbles into the synth-pop abyss, but this material feels somehow less galling than examples from Western Europe or the USA, as though the evident excitement in exploring new technology gifts the songs a certain, welcome, naiveté. Even The Forest Hums really kicks into gear when we hit the Kyiv underground of the late ’80s and early ’90s. [Dec 2024, p.52]

Efterklang deal exclusively in Big Music and there are plenty of stirring passages – “To A New Day” could be Take That; Mabe Fratti provides cello – and it all flows, rather too safely, at a steady pace. [Sep 2024, p.30]

Agreeably gruff-voiced, world-weary, Yello-ish electro-ballads dominate, but too many lyrics strain for portentous poetic melodrama, accidentally invoking Father Ted’s “My Lovely Horse” instead. [Nov 2024, p.34]

Aged 91, Nelson brings gravitas to any lyric, the more world-weary or wistful the better, and these covers fit him like a glove. [Dec 2024, p.36]

The familiar finger-picking textures and soft-sung romantic paeans of 2019’s Cala have been superseded by an almost ghostly atmosphere, as echo-swathed, lysergic-sounding reveries evoke spellbinding romantic visions. [Dec 2024, p.37]

An exploration of what common ground there might be between it and Prophet’s usual métier of deadpan country rock. It turns out to be substantial, as does this album, from the shuffling Colombiana of “Betty’s Song” to the drawling Tom Petty vibes of “Sally Was A Cop” to the near Glen Campbell-ish “Red Sky Night”. [Nov 2024, p.41]

Echoes of Conor Oberst abound but the tunes lack the same charm, with even covers of Spacemen 3 (“Sound Of Confusion”) and Townes Van Zandt (“No Place To Fall”) unable to keep ears pricked up. [Dec 2024, p.37]

Johnny Marr, straps in for the mellow acoustic “Solitary Confinement”, a standout amid many high-calibre moments. [Dec 2024, p.37]

It’s an album that is as broken as it is beautiful, a balance that Elverum appears to be gleefully embracing. [Dec 2024, p.28]

“You Possess Me” and Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You” are out-and-out power ballads, while the ramshackle roar of another cover, The Undertones’ “Teenage Kicks”, is arguably closest in spirit to what went before. [Nov 2024, p.40]

The result is a revelation. “As Above So Below” and the joyous, sax-assisted “Love Weapon” positively glow, Clément’s gentle chanson like a golden cord that guides you through their labyrinthine twists and turns. [Dec 2024, p.35]

“Love Resurrection” exhibits a more redemptive, albeit Yazoo-like energy. Later work, too, is transformed, with “Filigree”, from 2013’s The Minutes, now a poignant piano ballad and B-side “Tongue Tied” (from 2002’s Hometime era) getting the electronic polish it deserves. [Nov 2024, p.40]

Nina Nastasia’s contributions to “Iron Bones”’s Enomeets-Yorke somnolence reminds us how Strawberry Hotel, like so much of Underworld’s catalogue, frequently renders the prosaic romantic and the banal consequential. [Dec 2024, p.34]

She presents another batch of intimately detailed songs – from the anxious ballad “Dreaming Of Falling” to the exultant rocker “Driver” – in sturdy, string-accented settings that seem wholly unified with her intentions. [Nov 2024, p.43]

A strong start to a (hopefully) fresh chapter. [Dec 2024, p.37]

The expansive Pomegranate sees Parks explore a swirling, neo-psychedelic landscape, against which she sets husky, whispering vocals that can’t help but recall Mazzy Star. There’s some great, imaginative songwriting here. [Dec 2024, p.37]

Simple, graceful, moving, tender. [Nov 2024, p.26]

Presented largely stripped of 1967 production values – acoustic folk with a bit of reverb – but still sound innately lysergic. [Sep 2024, p.33]

Public Service Broadcasting devote a concept album to the tragic aviatrix’s final voyage, this time overlaying their soundscapes not with samples but with her writings brought to life by actors. These retain our interest more than some of the music they punctuate. [Nov 2024, p.41]

A serrated synthesis of goth, industrial and synth-pop conducted at a histrionic intensity, 13” Frank Beltrame Italian Stiletto… sometimes feels deliberately difficult. But it is also inspired enough to be worth the effort. [Dec 2024, p.39]

Nothing here matches the astonishing brutalist bubblegum of her 2018 debut, but on tracks like the soaring “Love Me Off Earth” you can still feel the unearthly radiance of this vanished star. [Dec 2024, p.39]

He’s less distinctive-sounding on the Oasis-style anthemics of “Got To Let You Go” and “Never Said Goodbye”, however. The boyish high register of Bugg’s voice lends itself most effectively to a certain ’60s beat group sound, which helps “All Kinds Of People” and the La’s-style rumble of “Breakout” get pulses racing more effectively. [Dec 2024, p.32]