Whilst Atomos is much poppier than their last one, it also boasts a greater sense of gravitas and remove.
The record dissolve into an uber-pleasing sound, the sort of thing you imagine plays in Japanese public toilets.
Ryan West's music is like Kingsley Amis's great quote about boozing and having fun; "I want more than my fair share before anyone else has had theirs".
Raumschmiere's newie also captures that sense of disconnect in real time that you get when staring out on a still, clear autumn day. Brilliantly.
Such is the record's jigginess, I feel the need to oil the wheels, to cross the Rubicon and start ordering you to spend your Ambitious Working People's Allowance on this...
An army of lost souls to rival Aragorn's Wight Army in Lord of the Rings; bands whose members still flit through the sodden crevices and dingy folds of the Pennines.
Decline feels like a huge work of progress (and insight into a zeitgeist) that is now stranded.
Platform is a modern day Trojan Horse; whereby the reconfiguration of the old is smuggled into our consciousnesses, under the guise of the new.
I can appreciate that that listening in to a record made by Sarah Neufeld and Colin Stetson is going to be a bit too austere for some tastes.
All we can really say is that listening to a new LP by the Thee Oh Sees is a true seat-of-the-pants ride.
Only the Throbbing Gristle/Coil axis come close to this spaceward/Satanic Mill industrial sound.
A Distorted Sigh is saturated with feelings that popped up in an earlier age; rewind 25 years and this would have been seen as a classic Generation X record.
Wire adopt the role of urban shamans, and look to allow people some gateway to intuition, some breathing space in these fractured times.
Time To Go Home has a sharp wit and a real sense of nous that doesn't just rely on the usual "conventions" of being in a band.
There have been some brilliant and breathtaking "guitar records" this year. And this is one of them.
Overall a great one for sticking on on a lazy or hungover afternoon; and you should give it time.
Jeff Özdemir & Friends is a damned good title, for that's what this compilation is, a set of Jeff Özdemir's mates, who showcase the modern urban electro-pop that has become almost ubiquitous in Germany.
This record steals with ridiculous and riotous abandon, and does so brilliantly.
Our musical present seems to be a continuous re-digestion of the sweetmeats from the past. And, as with anything, some days it's great and on others it can lead to a whole lot of bellyache.