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]

Pitiless, but ultimately forming a sanctuary for Xiu Xiu’s irredeemable sadness, Ignore Grief might just be their most startling record to date. [Apr 2023, p.63]

This album emerges as too tangled to be pulled into a simplistic linear narrative; throughout, innocence and trauma co-mingle both lyrically and sonically. Fawn/Brute is as complex and irresistible as its themes would suggest. [Apr 2023, p.54]

The way these surprises are smuggled in via skilful sonic illusions attests to Holden’s wide listening habits, and his judgement for bringing different sounds together like an old school studio producer. [Apr 2023, p.54]

The album feels both of the original vintage in its occasional psychedelic trappings and, masterfully, altogether new. But, perhaps most importantly, it richly rewards repeat listens. It’s a dense record, but not an overly busy one, and different instruments bubble to the top with each run through. [Apr 2023, p.59]

While ultimately not as inventive as some of Child’s earlier outings, Crash Recoil is nevertheless an urgent, kinetic techno record. [Apr 2023, p.60]

Let’s Start Here has a middlebrow sensibility, with plenty of grooves Calvin Harris would approve of. Its best moments come when he unleashes his oddball trill, an evocative sound that bland sentiments like “So surreal, the vibes I feel” can’t quite diminish. [Apr 2023, p.68]

Optical Delusion’s seven different guest vocalists yield wildly differing results, ranging from hits to misses. [Apr 2023, p.67]

Kate NV’s sense of play works at a deep grammatical level, particularly in her witty inversions of scale. Small sounds, squeaks, blips and twinkles are inflated into starring roles; boices are shrunk to decorative background shimmers. As with The Pastels, Haruomi Hosono or Pierre Bastien, WOW reminds you that playtime deserves serious attention. [Apr 2023, p.67]

Pop hooks and club-ready rhythms warp with bubblegum plasticity from track to track, never repeating but luxuriating in the excess of their own ideas. [Apr 2023, p.66]

Paternoster locks in with bassist Mike Abbate and drummer Jarrett Dougherty for 34 minutes of joyous thump with no filler in sight. A tough but open-hearted and ultimately life-affirming rock record. [Apr 2023, p.64]

For whatever accessibility that might be lost in the decision to eschew English lyrics is balanced by a fresh emotional immediacy. Arrangements are sparse and pristine, each sound serving a purpose. ... An album that witnesses Deerhoof at their most vulnerable and volatile. [Apr 2023, p.52]

Donaldson’s lyrics tend towards the observational, and are often delivered with a wry turn of phrase that can be laugh out loud funny. ... The Town That Cursed Your Name juggles pathos and bathos throughout. [Apr 2023, p.58]

Good Luck doesn’t betray Friday’s general aesthetic or artistic persona. On the contrary, it retains her darkly seductive, slightly edgy and risqué aura, but conveys it through a disparate medley of styles. [Apr 2023, p.53]

Thankfully it offers something much more than the sum of its parts and references. It speaks to our present moment with a yearning generosity and the kind of deep knowing that only comes with age. [Mar 2023, p.51]

93696 is their sixth to date and, in many ways, it still sounds like music made to illustrate a theory. [Apr 2023, p.56]

Praise A Lord is a record conceived and assembled with considerable care – literate, theatrical and elegantly audacious. [Apr 2023, p.62]

Slightly rawer and more aggressive than the duo’s last couple, Fearn’s productions cleave towards the minimal and raw, stripped right back to choppy beats and lurking bass. ... Success has not diminished Williamson’s need to grind an axe, which may not be pretty or noble, but is at least honest and undeniably consistent with what came before. [Apr 2023, p.60]

For most of the album, the core group explore Lewis’s own compositions, with the leader and Hoffman engaging in thoughtful conversation as Jaffe conveys pulse rather than time. [Apr 2023, p.56]

They’re on fire here and now, reassuringly within that sound world you’re familiar with but – perhaps because the album is self-produced – sounding freer, looser and more magnificent than ever. ... A band who’ve clearly lost none of their miraculous touch with their sources, who incredibly seem to have an entirely new lease of life. [Mar 2023, p.60]

While the lack of fixed personnel gives the album a gloriously freewheeling mixtape feel, Remy’s lyrics and persona in these songs, – particularly the wondrous title track and the miraculous “Tux” – demonstrate both a sleep deprived hunger for changes of spiritual and musical trajectory – sometimes within a single song – but also a recurrent return to elemental, physical needs, and the sheer lambent wonder of the grooves and hooks always keeps you rapt. [Mar 2023, p.60]

Oh Me Oh My is at its strongest when exhibiting an everyman quality comparable to that of his street level sculptures. [Mar 2023, p.52]

Smith and Unthank magnetise throughout with their combined vocals, even on unaccompanied songs such as “Captain Bover” (the story of Tyneside press gangs), melodically entwined, but contrasting soft and rugged. [Feb 2023, p.59]

Pole aka Stefan Betke is actually making the best music of his life right now. ... Tempus is mesmeric and that leaves space for Betke’s amazing painterly hand to weave magic. [Feb 2023, p.54]

Despite the obvious post-production touches and curation, the outtakes from 20 minute studio improv sessions featured across the four pieces feel authentically extemporaneous and evolve organically, akin to a late night jam between friends. ... “Bloodstream” provides the stunning album with a fittingly grandiose ending by digging into a psalm-like recital full of solemn organ, voluminous textures, invigorating fanfares and rumbling spectral melodies. [Feb 2023, p.52]

Such durational piece, composed from several instruments, recall Phill Niblock, but Malone’s album is softer, more atmospheric, even melancholic. Does Spring Hide Its Joy is material for deep listening, and its considerable length alone is a radical statement in times of fragmented attention. [Feb 2023, p.52]

Raven is full of powerful earworms that mobilise every inch of soul and flesh. [Feb 2023, p.52]

Cale remakes Nico’s trademark harmonium sound using electronics, imagining a future or celestial version of her. The effect is both moving and ghostly – a highlight of this typically imaginative album. [Feb 2023, p.46]