As unconventional in approach as ever, the set extrapolates from their previous ventures and results in a confident and competent continuation of established qualities.

For all of John Kowalski and Rian Trench’s accomplished textures and impressive ’80s sci-fi sheen, it’s these [songs "Happiness Is A Warm Spacestation" and "A Sky Darkly"] simmering, slow burning heavyweights that give Supermigration the thunder it needs.

At their best though, Junip’s exotic folk gems have a slow-burning charm and are an impressive step forward from Gonzalez’s easy listening cover versions.

The songs are simple sing-alongs with some lovely hooks--but trying to open his sound to random ideas and new styles just doesn’t seem to suit.

Major Lazer stands for firing on an all cylinders but doesn’t warn against the oomph taking leave of absence, though it does play off the shoulder of the first LP just lovely.

A pleasant, occasionally saccharine listen.

There’ve been worse assaults on the ears, that’s for sure. But for fans of the original eski sound, it’s a shame that Wiley has his eyes fixed too intently on his Ascent.

Useful, thrown-back fun, comfortable off the cutting edge.

It will inspire obsessive fandom and moisten a few eyes, but Henson’s voice is something of an acquired taste.

A chilling example of naked ambition prioritising production style over songwriting substance.

It has moments of greatness, some bits even a bit Animal Collective, but as a whole it doesn’t gel into an album you can lost in.

The brazen flows of Dagenham spitter, Devlin, shown on this outing don’t quite translate to the forced templates they lay on, meaning that the formula needs working.

Neither offensive nor inventive this album is a bit like a bag of Rainbow Drops; thrillingly pretty but ultimately full of air.

An interesting experiment.

[An] offensively dull record.

The album wears a multitude of influences on its sleeve, containing elements of hip-hop, house, disco and funk, but ultimately there is a distinct lack of variation amongst the thirteen tracks.

The music on 'Wax And Glue' shows potential, but the overall idea of the record is just too cluttered.

At times the effects are superb.... However, there are wobbles with the quality control.

One wonders if the venture should have reached out to the band's full catalogue, but it remains an adventurous extension for those who hold them dear.

It's a shame, then, that these creations occasionally meander into somewhat monotonous territories.

Hard to fault but not the progress we hoped for.

There's nothing here to write home about but it should make a nice stocking filler for Mum.

While every track on The Haunted Man is brimming with invention, there's little to keep you coming back for repeat listens.

Overall it's a robust, respectable detour but will leave some fans pining for the smoky chanteuse of old.

Everyone involved on this slab of hertz has brought far too much to the table over the years to dismiss this and the record really works.

It's a bold and stark opus worthy of attention, if your attention span is long enough.

They're still settling in at the start line, prescribing rose-tinted glasses that could very well divide listeners.

Guaranteed to make you cry sugar-coated tears or vomit Care Bears depending on your tastes.