The record transcends hip-hop, a buttery fusion of rap, soul, synth-pop, jazz, and a whole lot more. There’s even a reggae section that hits the spot.
The record listens like rock music’s answer to an ice-cold six-pack of decentish lager. It’s unrefined, but a cheap and cheerful good time.
Ellie Rowsell’s drift between spoken-word musings and operatic soarings is alive and well, and the band as a whole is as simpatico as ever - if not moreso.
The early 1970s was a golden era for singer-songwriters, but this stands alongside the best. The beauty of Mitchell’s songwriting lies in its simplicity.
Annie Clark wrangles a myriad of vintage sounds and gives them a stunning contemporary sheen, but it is in service of a world unquestionably her own. David Bowie and Mia Wallace had a sweet baby girl and abandoned her in South Queens.
Squid take characteristics from krautrock, dub, funk, and jazz to form a sound that is remarkably coherent and wholly distinct. It’s chaotic, but it works.
All the great metal albums contain at least a small portion of cheese. Fortitude is similar to a mild cheddar. Versatile, resilient and, sometimes, unbeatable.
Where others might layer up to obscene degrees, Stott has a knack for finding beauty in minuscule details. It’s practically ambient music for club-goers.
The record takes listeners on a spectacular musical safari, zipping between genres without ever feeling the slightest bit disjointed.
Another commanding and deft iteration of Godspeed’s lauded post-rock style. Although lacking the range of previous records, it still offers space to think.