Audioxide

There is so much going on, and the ambitions shown are so bold and brilliant, that you can’t help but root for the record even when it’s falling a little short.

IDLES’ most considered, sonically thoughtful, and complex release to date, taking the band down a new path while preserving their strengths.

As much fun as its riffs and crunching tone can be, the album feels like a product of veterans going through the motions. For a really long time.

Blake’s vocals are, predictably, beautiful; Blake’s production is, predictably, meticulous; and it’s all, predictably, quite predictable.

Uncompromising, and very brutal indeed. Some listeners will struggle to see it through to the end, whereas others will feel oddly comforted by its harshness.

TBD

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.

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.

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.

A rock record produced like a dance record, with endless amounts of saturation and compression applied to, well, everything. This is a failed experiment.

Vintage Del Rey (in both senses of the word), though the curious thing about the record is that it flies highest when she sounds least like herself.

An album caught in no-man’s land, its dozy stadium rock tunes neither advancing Kings of Leon’s sound nor recapturing the glory of their past.

The shift away from skeletal guitars is welcome, but Baker’s strength does not lie in expansive arrangements. The songs sound like they’ve been developed for arenas, which is a strange paradox.

An expansive, impressive listen with delicious moments of climactic eruption. For Mogwai fans, this should feel like a hit in the band’s discography.

The album dusky psychedelic pop is covered in so much haze that, despite serious musical detours, tracks tend to blend together. It’s a good blend, though.

Bristol band Goan Dogs have been going strong for ten years, and the work they've put in during that time has come to captivating fruition in their debut.

A blend of teenage angst and a primordial, animalistic sense of something lurking beneath a thin surface, a beastly shape clawing at the other side.

Tracks swirl about at a slower pace than in Bicep’s debut. It often feels as though in creating a ‘home version’ they have instead cut out the excitement.

Part dramatic dream, part sun-soaked soliloquy, part love letter to mid-century pop rock, Midnight Sister have sewn together a wistful, woozy record.

Unabashedly grim, but reassuringly gentle. The album's striking cover art of a menacing but fragile old man is a good indicator of what to expect.

Relentless and unpredictable, the album's like the spawn of a Satanic ritual in a theme park. It’s oppressive and challenging, but also warm and charming.

There is a huge amount of musical and lyrical ingenuity to enjoy here, with strong messages, jovial piss takes, and Joe Talbot as the megaphoned town crier.

It seems that a template was drawn up and filled in ten times over, such that every track sounds like the last, only wearing a different hat.

A sumptuously produced blend of folk, post-rock, and psychedelia, all with a smokey stoner sheen. When it gets rolling the grooves are irresistible.

The album is so delicate that it feels too fragile for its own good. It’s like a frozen wildflower - beautiful, but could shatter at any moment.

A pleasant, consistent, and enjoyable listen. Here’s hoping Nas and Hit Boy build on their clear chemistry with a follow-up.

The album is a nostalgia trip and, unintentionally(?), the longest ‘only Millenials will remember’ meme in some time.

The record lacks hooks and memorable moments. Although this is La Havas' most cohesive album to date, it may also be her most forgettable.

Relaxing yet affecting, these songs are begging to be listened to with a chilled beverage in hand, alongside friends, watching the sun go down.

Grizzled and dusty, the album is as world-weary as it is worldly. Dylan sits in his chair by the fire and regales with stories, between naps.

The album is purposefully provocative, and whilst this brings exhilarating and hard-hitting moments, it can also result in disorientating frenzies.

El-P and Mike are on the frontline now. Here the duo stand up to be counted for what they really are: rappers, producers, activists, husbands, citizens.

Emotionally vulnerable and creatively restless. The record plays out like a prolonged stream of consciousness, yet every aspect seems carefully constructed.

Solo material from a band as prolific as Radiohead can go one of two ways. Here it leaves the impression the band is greater than the sum of its parts.

Robed in ever so tasteful shades of pinkish beige, bluish beige, and beige, Song for Our Daughter is an often sublime Marling masterclass.

Thundercat rides the album like a surfer hanging ten on the world’s smallest, smoothest, slowest wave. It’s drifting with style, an uneventful good time.

Country music with a modern edge. To witness these songs being played live in a chapel would be quite the experience. Someone should work on that.

The album's all a bit clean cut, a perfectly pleasant smorgasbord of gothy synth pop which goes in one ear and out the other.

A distinctive project that showcases exactly what Jay Electronica is all about. With a little help from a friend, of course.

Kevin Parker’s latest project has all the hallmarks of what came before, and it pushes harder on his more avant garde sensibilities.

This isn't a game changer; instead a proud statement, delivered with finesse and flair by one of the true masters of IDM.

Throughout much of its run-time, There is No Year seems content revelling in its own (admittedly awe-inspiring) ambience.