Primary Colours falls harder than it deserves and the Horrors remain a pretentious, vacuous proposition: landfill indie rock with some synth burbles. Big fuckin’ whoop.
One of the year’s most special albums, and one packed with far too much hurt to be digested in one listen.
Generally Guns Don’t Kill Peeople bubbles along nicely.
For much of the album Cox manages the great alchemy of pairing inventiveness with a far-reaching pop sensibility and the result is richly rewarding. In short, when Logos hits its stride it’s nothing short of brilliant.
Bitte Orca’s a record that continues to give, and represents a career best for a band who’ve previously compelled but frustrated, but have now found the stars aligning, their dynamic clicking into place, and are on top of their game.
Listening to The xx’s debut album, it’s impossible not to be overcome by the sort of sublime sadness that feels like a rheumatoid ache in the heart area.