Rafter’s Sex Death Cassette is an album which delights for all its pop-simplicity, its flashes of non-conformity allowing it to linger longer than simple pop generally can.
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The long term music project is a rarity in today’s furiously churning music industry.
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One assumes that all UK labels are searching for another Alex Turner. This line of thinking is almost certainly what scored Correcto their debut album deal.
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On Cavalier, American troubadour Tom Brosseau yearns for a bygone era; a time when all you needed was an acoustic guitar and a set of engrossing tales to captivate an audience.
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Listening to Louis XIV swagger through Slick Dogs and Ponies is the musical equivalent of getting smacked in the face by a 12-inch rubber dildo.
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Filling a record full of guest performers is generally a pretty decent marketing technique.
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If music be the food of life, then Hunters, Run! are consuming their own vomit.
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The Bedlam in Goliath, in the warped and twisted universe in which The Mars Volta exist, is stunningly conventional.
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With 13 Blues For Thirteen Moons, Thee Silver Mt Zion are finally there.
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The quest for the next Bob Dylan has always been inherently paradoxical.
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There is a real sense of serenity and calm permeating this record, the sound of someone who is finally comfortable in their own skin.
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Efterklang may just be too Scandinavian for their own good.
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