Rainford is a classic set of Scratch vocals: science fiction nursery rhymes, apocalyptic lullabies, their melodies light as air yet rocksteady. Scratch’s delivery at the age of 83 is like Dylan’s present-day rasp, no longer about hitting notes or even tone necessarily, but heavy with the weight of his personal and musical history. [May 2019, p.61]

The minimal tracks here stretch (and sometimes tangle) like long chains of extruded material, pulsing along into the future. [Jun 2019, p.68]

The end result is the closest Cave In have ever come to revisiting the stellar stream of 2000’s Jupiter – the space rock monolith that boosted them into the wider consciousness. [Jun 2019, p.52]

His ability to manipulate sounds of urban bleakness into piss-stained musique concrète is as present as ever, from bass that booms like mourning gasometers to choking metallic smog ambience. Yet Younger’s skill lies not as yet another artist soundtracking urban decay but in enticing and confounding with sounds that straddle the uncanny valley. [Jun 2019, p.40]

Tracks have potent moments, but they’re slapped together with little thought for overall flow. [Jun 2019, p.60]

Although The Canon is a late arrival its mood is consistent with that of its predecessors. The recording is sharper and more delineated, but Leon steers clear of modern sonics that might date it. ... Apart from the titles, there is no narrative as such to this collection, but it works as absolute music, in which Leon creates the impression of mysterious and open spaces. [May 2019, p.58]

Dig into the four-to-the-floor derangement of “Lapwing” and the post-rock inflected “First Light” to hear a band seemingly capable of doing anything, yet remaining fleetfootedly themselves throughout. [Jun 2019, p.56]

As I spent more time with their tunes piercing through my earbuds, I finally succumbed to their truly infectious ways. [Jun 2019, p.65]

The narrower focus, combined with the decision to return to Seattle’s Studio Soli, raises the thought that Earth might have, at last, orbited back to the roaring wastelands of their early 1990s work. Jump into the longer cuts here, though, and you find something that sounds less like a trip on Tibetan quaaludes, more a slow chug of whisky. [Jun 2019, p.56]

But where Konoyo was a more visceral invocation of the electronic sublime, Anoyo stretches out and creates space for the reeds to be heard amid the splices, obstructions and reversals of the Los Angeles based producer’s typically stratified sonic design. [May 2019, p.67]

“Myopia For The Future” and “No Body” present similar augmentations that make the voice and its simulations indistinguishable from one another in their respective waves of swagger and cheery melody. Meanwhile, warped tones and looping bass melodies lift into the clatter of keys that almost – but not quite – resemble a rhythm in “Swordmanship”. [May 2019, p.59]

But if the technology has moved on, he’s moved with it, and the results are significantly more interesting than what he was up to in the 90s. It feels rural, but modern; rustic, but hardly an idyll; a feat of true uneasy listening. [May 2019, p.51]

From the vantage point of 2019, the Braindance sound has dated slightly--that splattery, all the drums at once style has been rinsed to death by the breakcore hordes. But there’s a sense of homespun whimsy to Raczynski’s music--a sense of the maker behind the machine--and a track like “329 15h”, a simple but artful blend of scalpel-sharp pseudo-junglism and music box melody, proves this music still has an energising effect. [May 2019, p.51]

Third Avenue is less approachable, more problematic [than Dave's Psychodrama]. ... But overall he shows a range Dave should take note of. [May 2019, p.50]

Haley retains the analogue wobble of his earlier work, particularly evident on 2010’s Cyanide Sisters and 2011’s Galactic Melt where his crisp and crunchy beats are at their impactful best. But on Persuasion System he’s combined them with stronger melodies and arrangements, elevating their effect from that of incidental, if still effective background music to the gripping theme of a main character. [May 2019, p.48]

Spellbinding throughout, this music may invite you to check out of the world, but only long enough to help you recover and face it again. [May 2019, p.48]

Explosively powerful, yet resoundingly fragile, her extended vocal technique illuminates an astoundingly rich range of embodied possibility. [Apr 2019, p.64]

LEGACY! LEGACY! is just as much a celebration of Chicago musical talent. ... It also demonstrates Woods’s vast talent as singer and songwriter. [Apr 2019, p.69]

It’s clear he’s still able to switch on a plausible menace when the situation demands. In that balance and his gleefully amateur unretouched singing lies the heart of a great album. [May 2019, p.68]

True to her reputation as an uncompromising force, at no point during Edge Of Everything does Temple show any mercy. [May 2019, p.66]

This 17 track album is the perfect embodiment of the sound and ethos the label has been pushing over the last nine years. [May 2019, p.66]

The strangely Middle Eastern funk they cook up in between their typical lunges and surges, the totally tuneless vocals that end up sounding like some kind of flagellant hiphop and the general sense of bass-heavy groove that locates SMTB closer to Helmet than Fugazi. [May 2019, p.65]

The outcome is a typically serene and spacious deconstruction of concept and melody; a compression, or reduction of a vast palette of reference points, ideas and processes into a remarkably integrated set of movements. [May 2019, p.64]

Pateras is much less dominant in the mix, mostly smouldering beneath the scintillating haze of distortion but occasionally slicing through like white light. Sitting on top of the mix are an assortment of glowing meditation bells played at unexpected intervals, which have the effect of plucking awareness from the dark recesses of sound one could otherwise be pulled all the way into. [May 2019, p.63]

Knowles’s instincts guide the cultural conversation in a way that feels healing, intentional and authentically collectiveminded. A well-constructed spell, cast with intention. [May 2019, p.63]

Empath is extreme in ways that extend beyond aggression or distortion. It’s melodic to the point of overload, layered to the point of obsessiveness. Conventions are disrupted in unexpected ways. ... Which is ugly to you? Which is beautiful? Townsend’s music urges both a thoughtful re-examination of these criteria and a long overdue redefinition of sonic extremity. [May 2019, p.56]

While unconventional, the pairing is astute. [May 2019, p.55]

Confident and resourceful, All Time Present feels more open than its predecessor. [May 2019, p.54

Most of the vocals elsewhere are unintelligible, blurred between endless layers of patchworked echolalia or overlaid with metal grid sheen and a mesh of hissing and crunching, skittering beats far removed from any sense of body based, physically entrained rhythm. But ultimately it’s just a shonkier version of the cut-ups and vocal splices Herndon’s been working with since her 2014 12" Chorus. [May 2019, p.52]

Musically it’s mannered to the point where he makes Stormzy look like Tempa T. Token exceptions offer some respite. On “Location” with Burna Boy and “Disaster” with J Hus he briefly escapes the bland backing and naff counselling concept to explore more primal modes of expression. But ultimately the failures predominate, most notably ten minutes of the heavy handed domestic violence PSA “Lesley”. [May 2019, p.50]

By no means a vintage JJ Cale record, but one with much to enjoy and a fresh chance to hear his songs as he originally heard them. [May 2019, p.48]

Like remembering the loading sound of a ZX Spectrum or the incidental music of Teletext, the feel of these tracks provokes an odd nostalgia for equipment, now superseded and obsolete. [Apr 2019, p.72]

How you feel about the LP will reflect how far you’re into its comic meets splatter trick. It feels sketchy and underdeveloped to me. [Apr 2019, p.68]

Despite being busy, Miri isn’t crowded. Kouyate has returned to a more acoustic sound after the electrified Ba Power, and his ngoni structures the songs with clarity and poise. [Apr 2019, p.68]

With moderately different production, a lot of this would probably sound significantly tougher, but one gets the sense that studio slickness has rendered it a little toothless, blunting what could be a much sharper edge. [Apr 2019, p.68]

Significant Changes is a brilliant album that merges Jayda’s parallel worlds. [Apr 2019, p.65]

The album finds different creative forms in convergence. Efdemin uses the album format to combine audio storytelling with ambient and drone based compositions that tell their own stories. [Apr 2019, p.65]

Gelb’s discordant phrasing and deft wordplay weave gently throughout. At heart, it’s a romantic album about lost moments. [Apr 2019, p.65]

The music resonates with a clarity Treanor had not yet achieved in the past, where the glassy shards of “ATAXIA A2” meet the staggered modulations and condensed hi-hats of “ATAXIA D1”, and ultimately reveal a unique and unexpected humanity. [Apr 2019, p.64]

Forgoing any temptation to portray herself as an alluring curio, Lafawndah instead pushes a singular yet communal vision, processing a blessedly rich vein of cultural information and cutting edge influence. [Apr 2019, p.63]

Cabral’s vocals, typically hushed, make Mazy Fly feel like a shared secret, its own world, and it’s thrilling to enter. [Apr 2019, p.62]

No More Normal showcases UK talent proudly, but bringing so much of it together, loses some of the character that might attract new listeners to UK music. Reaching for the historical weight of Soul II Soul, it ends up with the easy going vibe of The Brand New Heavies. [Apr 2019, p.59]

The entire affair has a bewitching ease, an effortlessness absent from Malkmus’s artistry since the days when he wanted to name his solo debut Swedish Reggae. [Apr 2019, p.58]

Little Simz’s latest--and greatest--album is divided between three emotional states: bravado, doubt and love. [Apr 2019, p.58]

He has a fascinating rhythmic sense, phrasing almost like a man who is writing down his words as he sings them, which gives the record a strong sense of immediacy and almost improvised spontaneity. And yet the accompaniments are more elegantly constructed than that implies, a beguiling mixture of harmonic squidge and tight metrical control. [Apr 2019, p.57]

She delivers an almost unrelentingly banging techno set whose cuts, while perhaps underground, could never be referred to as deconstructed. [Apr 2019, p.57]

The results are gorgeous. [Apr 2019, p.54]

Don’t let inevitable mainstream acclaim obscure the beauty and ingenuity of this album; it’s big enough for everyone. [Apr 2019, p.52]

State Of Ruin is a typically pristine offering from Planet Mu’s UK roster of trap and grime inspired producers, at once displaying high definition composition of dynamic bass pressure without really producing anything hugely exciting. [Apr 2019, p.50]

The production has remained faithfully jagged and abrasive, where a trebly and bass-starved sonic narrative enforces a fresh take on what continues to be intense and difficult listening. [Apr 2019, p.50]

It’s just possible that, nearly three decades into her recording career, It’s Real is Ex Hex frontwoman Mary Timony’s strongest release to date. [Mar 2019, p.62]

By the time you’re through to the end of the album, Negro’s precise refusal to have bullied you with his ideas means you’re happy to return to the beginning and let that sunlight in again. Central heating for kids. Lovely. [Mar 2019, p.57]

The project ultimately feels a little vague and indulgent. Though the sounds of plastic on offer are eclectic and the compositions joyous, Matmos seem to acknowledge climate change as a throwaway aside in favour of an avant garde remaking of physical theatre. [Mar 2019, p.55]

There’s no subject harder to broach in polite society than loneliness. Martin and Robinson know this and should be commended for taking an extended gaze into this particular abyss. [Mar 2019, p.54]

Three years ago Eyes On The Lines marked the emergence of an important songwriting talent, a rebirth midwifed by a dozen years on the road. The Unseen In Between delivers the same impact, but deeper and more lasting. If you wanted to pinch a Chapman reference, you might say it acknowledges that those growing pains never actually stop. [Mar 2019, p.48]

These aren’t stoical songs; nor are they blandly defiant. They speak a deep truth about ageing, and one that spikes several more humdrum cliches: age isn’t just how you feel, but an ineluctable fact; it isn’t just a matter of numbers, but very much a felt experience, and Chapman has delivered a beautiful continuum of musical experience since he emerged in 1969 with Rainmaker and Fully Qualified Survivor. [Mar 2019, p.48]

Lee Gamble’s In A Paraventral Scale makes another step towards a scene that for some has been and gone. [Mar 2019, p.51]

“Carapace” is one worth returning to, an agitated Pixies-style rocker that pogos up and down for three energetic minutes. Equally enjoyable is the kosmische inspired interplay wired into “Lurk Of The Worm”, together with the bolts of grunge that light up “Where Have You Been All My Life?”. Elsewhere some of Pollard’s songs can be compared to those of Peters Gabriel and Hammill, two distinct guiding voices who can occasionally be heard whispering in the hull of this inflated blimp of a record. [Mar 2019, p.52]

Eton Alive is but another visceral and impetuous take on a grim political reality. [Mar 2019, p.58]

Encore is Hall’s first record under the moniker since the 1981 single “Ghost Town”, and with guitarist Lynval Golding and bassist Horace Panter in the fold, it feels more like The Specials than anything has in a long time. [Mar 2019, p.59]

Merging a sophisticated rhythm dynamism, often with an almost gamelan aspect (“Two Flames Burn”) with a Laibachian apocalyptic proclamatory element and 90s crossover rave-electronic-industrial urgency, Disturbance may not be entirely different from what Test Dept were doing a long time ago, but, then again, nor is the political context in which they’re doing it. [Mar 2019, p.60]

Her most powerful album to date, both vivid and serene in its uncanny way of slowing the pace of time. [Mar 2019, p.61]

Tutti is a journey to the centre of the soul, but it is a kindly one, and Cosey is a most excellent guide. [Mar 2019, p.61]

Weird is more insular, almost cabin feverish in Hatfield’s tendency to celebrate her own company (“All Right, Yeah” and the impossibly wholesome “Do It To Music”) or conversely magnify her own physical flaws (“Broken Doll”). If you hold some nostalgia for Hatfield’s early years but tuned out some time ago, you might get more from this than you expect. [Mar 2019, p.62]

At times flush with the meditative air of Alice Coltrane, elsewhere like some whispered about 80s new age obscurity, this album both requires and justifies extensive attention. [Mar 2019, p.62]

Bob Mould is not pulling up stylistic roots on Sunshine Rock, but it’s still breezier than his average, thanks in part to the use of an 18-piece string section on much of the album. [Mar 2019, p.62]

A modest effort of just over half an hour. [Mar 2019, p.62]

The blithe ease with which it slips from unruly quasi-techno to Tony Conrad-like violin drone (“Pumpkin Attack On Mommy And Daddy”; “The Wrong Thing”) keeps this consistently diverting. [Mar 2019, p.62]

This is darkly delicious pop--with no smiling. [Mar 2019, p.64]

Cross’s ability to get the job done with his stripped down trio is the real achievement here. [Mar 2019, p.65]

It’s something like Noname if she had a backstory closer to The Game. And just when it almost veers too close into Soulquarian-lite territory, Boogie drops “Self Destruction”, a vocally agile self-examination that reminds you why his contract was picked up by Eminem. [Mar 2019, p.65]

Tobacco’s beats sound like a mescaline trip through a haunted theme park from Scooby Doo, while the Def Jux legend in a different lifetime raps about an eagle snacking on a cat like a churro. Pretty standard stuff really. [Mar 2019, p.65]

This is rain-choked pain music, inspirational negativity, hypnotic blood moon melodies over crack-slanging boasts. [Mar 2019, p.65]

Their world is one where the scrambling of senses serves a true psychedelic purpose--to open doors, to facilitate fresh ways of perceiving and, most gloriously, to wonder. It’s great to have (all of) them back. [Mar 2019, p.49]

What on the record might be the magnified pop of dust and surface scratch, here could represent imperfections on a cosmic scale--the debris of space and time, swallowed and digested. Where Basinski succeeds is the tone he adopts; rather than the heavy dread of inevitable supermassive doom, these sections are somehow wide-eyed and full of slowly drifting wonder. [Mar 2019, p.49]

If you listen to White Stuff and hear good time rock ’n’ roll then perhaps it’s time to check into the rock ’n’ roll nursing home. On the other hand if you hear avant garde brinksmanship, check your ears. It’s both, it’s neither. Does it matter? Does anything? Yes and no.

Thankfully here, in spite of the occasional song in Latin or mention of the Peninsular War, Batoh succeeds in stripping things all the way back to a jewel-like clarity. ... Even when things do take on a heavier and more expansive turn, technique, structure and lyrical meaning are powerfully combined. [Feb 2019, p.44]

It’s not uncommon for DIY punk, hardcore and noise artists to veer towards the more contemplative, electronic ends of musical experimentation. ... Croatian Amor’s exercise in post-apocalyptic world building is another effective example of this transition. [Feb 2019, p.53]

Drift Code may not be as bold an artistic statement as Spirit Of Eden, nor as interesting a sideline as .O.Rang, nor in all likelihood be as celebrated 17 years hence as Out Of Season. But Webb proves himself just as skilled as his former collaborator Gibbons in his ability to build worlds whose orbits brush against the heart while always staying at arm’s length. [Feb 2019, p.49]

The sixth album by this Norwegian power trio is, like each of its predecessors, a fierce demonstration of their strengths as individuals and as a collective. [Feb 2019, p.54]

Musically, Ace Of Cups remains more or less faithful to the instrumentation and stylistic idioms of the place and time in which the band formed. ... Other songs on this sprawling debut tend toward the folksy, bluesy and disarmingly earnest. [Feb 2019, p.55]

He has the knack of E-40, of Slick Rick, of George Clinton, for whipping up ugly shit with infantile rhyme to make it taste like candyfloss. On “Outside!”, he turns “Who want to die” into a sprightly singalong. The cheer proves to be a cover for both an experimental edge more disruptive than that of Some Rap Songs and a hefty impact when Vince does finally start to crumble. [Feb 2019, p.56]

It’s hard to get with the tiresome self-deprecation of that album title, the way he hides his pain behind a smile and hides his smile behind a dope aesthetic on that artfully blurred cover. When Earl does choose to project beyond his navel he has a powerful, booming voice and an ear for novelty. Where his gaze shifts to the outside world he can be inspirational. [Feb 2019, p.56]

A tight action trio who have screwed their collective anger and frustration into a balled musical fist and let fly. [Feb 2019, p.58]

There’s a brace of humble attempts to get his head round his situation, tracks like “Trauma” and “Oodles O’ Noodles Babies”, brilliantly nuanced performances where Meek wavers on the edge between uncommon restraint and a violent simmer. Jay-Z showing up on “What’s Free” to boast about tax avoidance brings everything back into perspective.

Once the starpower dazzle fades, it’s not always obvious who he is, but the lack of easy answers makes him interesting enough for now.

Though the compilation is vast and the songs hardly bleed into one another--we’re often jumping genres, pivoting off cascading basslines and quickly changing pace without missing beats--there is a level of thematic cohesion here. [Feb 2019, p.66]

The music for the horror/revenge fantasy developed from Cosmatos and Jóhannsson’s mutual appreciation of heavy metal and psychotronic cinema, and it shows. [Nov 2018, p.56]

When it works, it’s pretty thrilling--as on their version of Joe Henderson’s “Earth”. Whether bassist Domenico Angarano will ever forgive himself for fluffing the galaxy-unlocking riff at the start of Alice Coltrane’s “Journey In Satchidananda”, however, is between him and the Creator. [Dec 2018, p.63]

There’s no denying that braggadocio has always been a key component of the genre but after a while it does become wearing when little more is on offer to elevate the tunes. What rescues the whole affair is Daniel Boyle’s dedication to the task at hand and his skills in bringing the rhythms and end mixes together, though with session input from the great but unsung UK reggae sessioneer Hughie Izachaar on guitar and bass plus old Upsetter Robbie Lyn on keyboards it’s enough to infuse any session with confidence. [Nov 2018, p.62]

Melnyk’s playing has a rare capacity to energise and exhilarate, and in that respect Fallen Trees does not disappoint. [Jan 2019, p.82]

Pieces Of A Man is coherent, marrying the raw energy of trap with jazz-funk inspired beats. Black Milk’s instrumentals “Stress Fracture” and “Gwendolynn’s Apprehension” are remarkably complex both melodically and rhythmically. [Jan 2019, p.80]

Siblings is a powerful collection of choral singing, poetry, spoken word, field recordings and samples that draws from a vast and interconnected range of friends and collaborators, and times and locations, bringing this idea of activism through communality to its exuberant climax. [Jan 2019, p.73]

Where Lopatin’s earlier work often evoked the sense of a simultaneous need and impossibility of love--most notably in his Chris de Burgh sampling “Nobody Here”--the music here seems to strive for immediacy. [Jan 2019, p.70]

The delicacy and lightness of the album is underpinned by mesmerising, rich textures, constantly buzzing and clunking away beneath the surface. [Jan 2019, p.70]

“Exactlyfourminutesofimprovisedmusic” is one of the highlights on Blow, not least because it toys so wittily with ideas of genre and song versus freedom. [Jan 2019, p.70]

The unreachable past collides with a dark, unpredictable future, leaving the listener with a pit in the stomach and endless respect for the way that Ishibashi has upped her game. [Jan 2019, p.67]

A record that awakens mysteries and meaning from sparse elements; a masterful ritual. [Jan 2019, p.67]