Album of the year? Fucked if I know. But, yeah. Maybe.
Aviary certainly lands on the more 'out there' end of the spectrum, but don't be surprised if she doesn't stay there for long.
Only her fifth solo LP in a career dating back to the 80s, Broken Politics is exactly the kind of thing our ears need to encounter more regularly.
It's demanding music, but it sounds like they needed to make it.
On a record of refinement rather than reinvention, the corners are darker and the brightness more dazzling than before.
They've said it's the last we'll hear from them. But then, they are Liars.
...it's a second consecutive triumph, and you really should own it. If you don't have any jazz, that's not an issue. The only barrier to enjoying it is not having any soul.
In dialling up their idiosyncrasies, they've expanded the very horizons of the genre.
Dream Wife's opening salvo feels like indie debuts of old; a 34-minute cobweb-clearer with a few middling-to-good songs and a handful of spectacular ones.
On Rest, Gainsbourg flits between singing in French and English, and sounds just as mysterious whatever language she's operating in - even if you only find one of them intelligible.
This time, he's apparently digging the Pet Shop Boys and New Order. And man, do I dig how he digs the Pet Shop Boys and New Order.
"If you listen you will hear that sound right there in my mind", he sings on highlight "No Tree Branch", and that's what this record sounds like - a trip in to a fascinating, hilarious and disturbing psyche.
But the songwriting is magnificent throughout, and anyone with an interest in forward thinking pop should head to Brazil immediately.
Oczy Mlody goes so much further through the looking glass that we may have lost the band we knew forever
If alt-country is still a thing and Lambchop remain one of its stalwarts, here they stretch the definition so far it’s frankly useless
Like each Danny Brown album, Atrocity Exhibition is less commercial than the last, putting in him in the unique position of being a rapper whose star rises as his crossover potential diminishes
Though an often wistful affair, the feeling on My Woman is not of nostalgia, but of pushing forward
There’s slightly more polish to proceedings these days, and Lou Barlow is rightly given room to shine, but for the most part, it’s just a welcome elongation of their heyday
The Magic isn’t a landmark release in Deerhoof's canon, but it’s perhaps more coherent than their last few, the sound of a rock band revelling in being the only ones doing whatever it is they do