Audioxide

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.

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.

Drawing from a melting pot of influences, Parks delivers ice cool nonchalance and honest intimacy in a debut record as exciting as it is impressive.

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

Tyler plays against his strengths and manages to push himself to make a good non-rap album. That in itself is pretty fucking fascinating.

For every moment of serenity there's a feeling of incompleteness, and the result is an album that's sadly unmemorable.

The jams are drawn out in a ceremonious manner, with hooks piled on top of other hooks; each chorus repeated enough for it to become a sing-along.

The album boasts a lush, colourful sound, drawing from elements of funk and soul to create an impressively modern vibe. It's just a shame it's so cartoonish.

For an album that clocks in well over the hour mark, it’s regrettably unambitious and even a little safe. This is effectively James Blake on autopilot.

It’s beautifully discreet, formed with an elegance that pushes it to the point of invisibility — blissful for some, but perhaps too despondent for others.