Tonight We Dance

What elevates Turn Out The Lights is that it’s sensory as well as earnest, personally destabilising while artfully assured; it oscillates in the spilling synaesthesia of panic attacks, the dizzying clarity of epiphany, the paralysing futility of depressive episodes, the unfathomable locus of being okay.

What elevates Turn Out The Lights is that it’s sensory as well as earnest, personally destabilising while artfully assured; it oscillates in the spilling synaesthesia of panic attacks, the dizzying clarity of epiphany, the paralysing futility of depressive episodes, the unfathomable locus of being okay.

The duo successfully crosses Clark’s talent of romanticizing morbidity through melody and Byrne’s knack for eccentric pop by using a prominent horn section both as a bridge between the two and an unfamiliar element that distinguishes this as a partnered effort.

Not only does Ugly set a new standard for the band, it’s also a grubby, triumphant call to action.

Tempest is fantastic, but being impressed by Dylan is old hat. That he still finds ways to surprise us is an achievement beyond all comprehension.

On II, Bad Books have proven that they are more than Manchester Orchestra with Kevin Devine or vice versa by dropping any ego and making a cohesive record. Thankfully, all of us reap the benefit.

The most despairing, confrontational and musically turbulent album Bruce Springsteen has ever made.

The lyrics are a little more personal, the band a little more developed - it seems that this is the start of a new and exciting chapter for The Gaslight Anthem.

While Blunderbuss appears to be definite off-loading of emotional baggage, it also feels like a move toward rebirth.

Another singular album from a truly idiosyncratic voice, Apple has once again invited us into her lushly conflicted inner monologue.