On first listen, Cellophane Memories sounds reliably Lynchian in its hypnagogic moans, bluesy torch songs and voluptuous slow-motion noir-scapes. But it also pushes beyond these familiar tropes, notably by layering, intertwining and tape-reversing Zucht’s sultry mezzo-soprano vocals on deliciously weird stand-outs. [Sep 2024, p.29]

Makes good on the promise of 2022's Big Love Blanket by finetuning their melodic instincts without sacrificing the anything-goes chaos that makes them such a thrilling proposition. [Sep 2024, p.37]

There are further pointers to the record serving as a noisy epilogue, its energy and venom a reminder of when they, and their devoted following, were much younger souls. [Sep 2024, p.39]

There are several lengthy, furious, deliberately alienating diatribes from the Jamaican feminist poet Staceyann Chin, whole sections in French and Steve Reich-style phase-shifting sound collages. All of this does a slight disservice to some excellent songs. [Sep 2024, p.37]

Birds & Beasts is nothing if not vivid – a summoning of the mythical American landscapes that kept pilgrims heading west. Despite its antecedents, the album is rarely conventional. [Aug 2024, p.41]

Tight but loose, Are Possible sits nicely alongside other hypnotic, folksy acts like 75 Dollar Bill and Natural Information Society. [Sep 2024, p.29]

A 3LP set captures Sunday’s entire show, and there’s a shorter ‘best of both nights’ version – which surprisingly, but perhaps thankfully, skips “Country House” – but there’s no questioning the band’s enduring energy and charismatic chemistry, whether emphasising “Under The Westway”’s Bowie fixations or “The Narcissist”’s unforgettable hooks. [Sep 2024, p.29]

There’s a sometimes bipolar feel to the 10 original tracks, particularly the first half, before the four singles crash in to save the day. .... Sleevenotes, memorabilia, alternate takes, B-sides and demos galore, although vibrant live cuts such as a 1979 tear through “Message In A Bottle” offer the most value beyond curiosity.

At times they sound as if they are seeking to recreate The Clash, before suddenly erupting into jagged film-score strings (“Blue Kite”). [Aug 2024, p.32]

On No Name, he’s done something special on his own terms, delighted and surprised his audience, and provided one of the great rock moments of the year. [Oct 2024, p.30]

“The Wraith Behind Our Eyes” sounds like the kind of thing Ian Dury might have come up with if he’d been raised in sunny California, while the New Age jazz flourishes of tracks like “Threaded Dances” hit home what a unique concoction of flavours and sounds Izenberg has put together here. [Aug 2024, p.35]

Songs still betray their freestyle origins in what is Wand’s most exploratory album to date, from the disquieting “JJ” to the seven-minute churn of “High Time”. [Aug 2024, p.40]

Down-home majesty. [Sep 2024, p.29]

While about as niche as it gets, this is a strangely endearing and subtly beguiling album that does much more than just send you to sleep. [Sep 2024, p.29]

It’s all impossibly good, from the walloping riff that drives opener “Reason To Hide” through hardcore thrasher “La Plage”, the grunge-pop of “Here It Comes” and the jazz-dub title track, right up to the steadily building whirlwind of ominous closer “Gunboats”. [Aug 2024, p.39]

The core trio of Chris Gunst, Brent Rademaker and Farmer Dave Scher, plus various friends, excel on the breezy optimism of “Falling Forever”, while the mellow vibes of “Faded Glory” recall Teenage Fanclub at their sunniest. [Aug 2024, p.31]

Justin Moore’s “Here Comes My Girl” and Brothers Osborne’s “I Won’t Back Down” both sound like expensive karaoke. The best tracks take more than a few liberties with the source material. [Jul 2024, p.41]

He may not offer many surprises – those Beatle-esque inclinations remain ubiquitous – but he does pull in some impressive guests. [Aug 2024, p.35]

Cohen displays a light touch throughout, whether spiking “Dog’s Face”’s reverberant honky-tonk piano with detuned guitars and brass, constructing “Sunever” around swinging mandolin or conjuring ’80s DIY indie on “Wishing Well”. [Aug 2024, p.31]

The miraculous, heartbreaking conjunction of found text and ancient lament, forged together in the alchemy of Elkington’s production, feels the most perfect realisation yet of Fussell’s project: tradition sparked back to life by unexpected everyday encounters. [Aug 2024, p.24]

The music adds majesty to the industrial primitivism which purports to be the output of the fictional band, Memorial Device, with Pastel ensuring period veracity by revisiting cassettes of his teenage jams. [Jul 2024, p.38]

The pair share a fascination for esoterica and ritual, and it’s this impulse that powers their new collaboration, Jinxed By Being. [Aug 2024, p.40]

“Day 2000 Awake”’s warmth, inspired by parenthood, is perfectly poised too, and if “Poor Symmetry” seats her at a piano in Joni Mitchell mood, the pulsing “My Hands In The Water” recalls Kate Bush’s mature, sumptuous pop. [Jul 2024, p.31]

The new ‘Ultimate’ mixes are an excellent reimagining of the original’s tinny sound, giving a clearer route to Lennon’s voice while ensuring each instrument gets due prominence. Songs like “Aisumasen (I’m Sorry)”, “You Are Here” and “Out The Blue” can now take their place among Lennon’s finest. [Aug 2024, p.49]

Travis continue to subtly experiment with their sound, and on this 10th studio set it regularly pays dividends. [Aug 2024, p.40]

Lyrically, the album plunges into some vulnerable and troubling places, but musically it lacks a similar emotional range, instead feeling static and one-note. [Aug 2024, p.31]

The result is a record that confirms … Phenomenal Nature was no fluke. This is the sound of Jenkins hitting her stride – less disembodied than its predecessor, more grounded, its tone ranging from the easy warmth of Tom Petty to the steady discernment of Aimee Mann, via a little Laurie Anderson. [Jul 2024, p.28]

he power of Landless lies in their own exquisitely intertwined four-part vocal harmonies, which add spine-tingling beauty to even the most fatalistic lyric, from an achingly gorgeous rework of traditional Celtic heartbreak lament “Blackwaterside” to the adventurously chosen Slovak-language ballad “Ej Husari”, a radiantly lovely murmuration of swooping, cooing, chirruping voices. [Jul 2024, p.35]