Martyn - The Air Between Words - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
Born in the Netherlands, resident in Washington DC and responsive to many dance-music genres, Martyn is a purveyor of atmospheric four-to-the-floor that hovers above that middle-ground of either staying in or going out, the headphones on the head or dancing shoes on the feet. Much of The Air Between Words is geared towards the latter but we're not talking a hands-to-the-lazers mentality here - Glassbeadgames, created with Four Tet, is a resounding garage-flavoured club-anthem that showcases both artists' ability to turn a beat on a sixpence and the acid-tweakin' Drones carries on a legacy that the likes of Carl Craig and Derrick May pedalled decades ago. Empty Mind and Forgiveness Pt 2 continue with the same motorik insistence while Chicago House gets something of a reboot on the album's conclusion, Fashion Skater. A few pieces fall short, both in emotional and somatic terms, but overall Martyn's done himself and the clubbing fraternity proud by unleashing an album for both the head and the feet.
Jon Allen - Deep River - ★★★★★★★★☆☆
With a voice like Allen's, it's somewhat surprising he hasn't broken into the nation's consciousness. Maybe the Howards, Buggs and Passengers of this world have stolen a march on the monopoly of singer-songwriters or perhaps Jon Allen's husky Rod Stewart-esque tones are not required in 2014. Deep river could change this state of affairs. It deserves too. From the moment Night And Day ushers in the singer's third album, you know you'll be in good company for eleven tracks more. The difference between 2011's capable predecessor Sweet Defeat and this year's Deep River is obvious - arrangements are pin-sharp, and the songs are warm, resonate and memorable. Hovering between blues troubadour and transient folkie, Allen recalls Crosby and Nash, Nick Drake, the two Bills Callahan and Withers and Josh Bray throughout, even resembling Paul Simon on parts of the glorious Wait For Me, but always Jon Allen by close of each song's play. Sure he can crank up the volume on the stomping All The Money's Gone and Fire in My Heart, but it's when he's cool, calm and collected that this man truly hits paydirt. Falling Back, Keep Moving On and the title-track are the equal of his best works and with added soulful backing vocals, strings and organ, Allen has produced something of a slow-burning must-have album.
Todd Terje - It's Album Time - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
After DJing and remixing other artists' work for over a decade, Terje Olson finally gets around to releasing his debut-album. Strangely for someone seen as a creative force and visionary, Todd's played it safe with an album that is by turns playful, retro and groovy - for the most part. I'm reminded of Yello, Dimitri From Paris, Chromeo and Daft Punk on tracks such as Strandbar, Leisure Suit Preben and Delorean Dynamite, while the obvious summer anthem of the year thus far is Inspector Norse. With a title that nods to its creator's roots and the tracks coded bleeps, BBC 6 Music have been caning this and with good reason - it's good time nu-disco that first saw the light of day in 2012 as a hit-single across Northern Europe. I'm not sure about turning Robert Palmer's unassuming Johnny and Mary into a grandiose Moby-like ballad (with Bryan Ferry to boot) but on the whole It's Album Time is worth a punt.
Jennifer Lopez - A.K.A. - ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
The guest-stars on J-Lo's eighth studio-album pretty much tell you all you need to expect from it. Anonymous production-line RnB, sweetly-trilled faceless pop and too many no-songs make AKA a rather uneventful and unlovable listen, although I'm sure the collective egos of Nas, French Montana, Rick Ross and Iggy Azalea strived to make it a collaborative project to remember. I Luv Yah Papi and Emotions are meaningful I'm sure, but they're twee and shot through with saccharine, while Let It Be Me sounds like next year's Eurovision entry for any one prepared to shell out for fifth place. The worst effort on here not surprisingly features that narcissist of sexual bigotry, Pitbull, although to be fair, Lopez is mainly to blame for the risible Booty, a provincially mindless bum-worshipping wretch of a tune. Who buys this nonsense? It's an album that can only inspire firing a crossbow into your own eyeballs - it would be less painful - or serving a pizza on. To your enemies.
Klaxons - Love Frequency - ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Not so long ago, the quirky Klaxons were seen as something like the future of music (or something). Superseded by the likes of Bloc Party, Delphic and the like (three acts capable of matching the debut-album Myths Of The Near Future), Klaxons almost slipped under the radar until 2010's Surfing The Void popped up with the most memorable ingredient being the sleeve featuring the cat in the spacesuit. Yep, that one. Four years on and Klaxons have cranked up the synths and created a cheerless amalgam of retro '90s sub-rave and Noughties indie-schmindie disco. There Is No Other Time might be a portent of their future, a hideous stop-start-stop-start retread of Justice, CSS, Foals et al, while Show Me A Miracle is a laboured pop 'anthem' that sounds like a band regressing rather than advancing. Titles such as Rhythm Of Life, Children Of The Sun and Out Of The Dark fail to fill me with confidence and I'm proved correct when the songs seep out of the speakers like a bad techno smell. Only the pretty Liquid Light offers hope, partly due to the lack of any hippy-trippy lyrics and partly because it's short. The Dreamers is also passable, a sort of Glitter Band homage with tribal drums and minor-key harmonies. As for the rest, you takes your choice.
Lana Del Rey - Ultraviolence - ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆
It could be argued that Del Rey kick-started this trend for soulless, whiney, toe-gazing sulk-pop doing the rounds at the moment. Sharon Van Etten, Daughter are all doing what Mazzy Star and Tarnation were doing twenty-plus years ago - check the latter pair out, you'll find some great songs in both band's canons. Listening to Lana's second album is rather like being trapped in a motel-room watching disturbing b-movies back-to-back under the watchful eye of the local crazies (and David Lynch), a room where the lights flicker at such a rate as to induce fits and the liquor in your glass has been spiked with sour-milk and narcotics. Now all of this highly-imaginative imagery might appeal to many but the reality is, Ultraviolence is a claustrophobic and depressing 70 minute bind. The mostly slow-paced songs drift by in a fug of f-words, violence, threat and unease, creating what some will no doubt call a moody masterpiece, a tour-de-force and her 'greatest achievement'. OK, Shades Of Cool is admittedly special, Brooklyn Baby is Hope Sandoval to a tee and Fucked My Way Up To The Top is nothing if not direct. But the whole set is simply too much of the same thing - it's humourless and dark all the way through, it needs some light and it needs soul. Whilst it's refreshing to hear she hasn't buckled under pressure and made a brainless pop album, the frequent foot off the gas becomes an annoyance and a hinderance after a while. Disappointing.
Cerebral Ballzy - Jaded and Faded - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
New York City's Cult Records, founded and run by Strokes Julian Casablancas, is home to multi-faceted aggro-rockers Cerebral Ballzy who sport attitude and a photogenic line-up assured of column inches in all the right publications. No bad thing when you've got the substance to back it up and CB have it in droves. Most of Jaded and Faded is heads-down no-nonsense punk-rock that recalls Black Flag and Radkey, weighing in at under 35 minutes with each song under three minutes, save for Lonely America which is slower (ha!) and awash with feedback and a chorus. I imagine that live, sound-engineers must be teetering on the brink of becoming deaf at any moment, never mind the audiences. Speed Wobbles pays homage to the heady days of hardcore and the concluding All I Ever Wanted is a beautiful cacophony fir for the purpose of dropping your jaw too. And it sounds nothing like Strokes. Win.
Greys - If Anything - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Joining the likes of Speedy Ortiz, Cloud Nothings and Beach House on the hip Carpark imprint is Toronto's hard-hitting punk-bawling Greys who deliver a label debut full of venom, vitriol and verve. Short sharp shock is the blueprint of choice, with inevitable similarities to Fucked Up etc but less of the ear-bleeding results. Flip Yr Lid wouldn't sound amiss on a Husker Du demo while Adderall is almost Minor Threat in make-up. Almost. Behind the fury are some excitable hooks that might stop traffic - Chick Singer and Brain Dead are also likely to cause seizures in small clubs too - and much of Greys' output is dissonance perfected. In the words of Christopher Morris' parody presenter, the 7'oClock Jock, it's got some rather loud guitars on it.
Born in the Netherlands, resident in Washington DC and responsive to many dance-music genres, Martyn is a purveyor of atmospheric four-to-the-floor that hovers above that middle-ground of either staying in or going out, the headphones on the head or dancing shoes on the feet. Much of The Air Between Words is geared towards the latter but we're not talking a hands-to-the-lazers mentality here - Glassbeadgames, created with Four Tet, is a resounding garage-flavoured club-anthem that showcases both artists' ability to turn a beat on a sixpence and the acid-tweakin' Drones carries on a legacy that the likes of Carl Craig and Derrick May pedalled decades ago. Empty Mind and Forgiveness Pt 2 continue with the same motorik insistence while Chicago House gets something of a reboot on the album's conclusion, Fashion Skater. A few pieces fall short, both in emotional and somatic terms, but overall Martyn's done himself and the clubbing fraternity proud by unleashing an album for both the head and the feet.
Jon Allen - Deep River - ★★★★★★★★☆☆
With a voice like Allen's, it's somewhat surprising he hasn't broken into the nation's consciousness. Maybe the Howards, Buggs and Passengers of this world have stolen a march on the monopoly of singer-songwriters or perhaps Jon Allen's husky Rod Stewart-esque tones are not required in 2014. Deep river could change this state of affairs. It deserves too. From the moment Night And Day ushers in the singer's third album, you know you'll be in good company for eleven tracks more. The difference between 2011's capable predecessor Sweet Defeat and this year's Deep River is obvious - arrangements are pin-sharp, and the songs are warm, resonate and memorable. Hovering between blues troubadour and transient folkie, Allen recalls Crosby and Nash, Nick Drake, the two Bills Callahan and Withers and Josh Bray throughout, even resembling Paul Simon on parts of the glorious Wait For Me, but always Jon Allen by close of each song's play. Sure he can crank up the volume on the stomping All The Money's Gone and Fire in My Heart, but it's when he's cool, calm and collected that this man truly hits paydirt. Falling Back, Keep Moving On and the title-track are the equal of his best works and with added soulful backing vocals, strings and organ, Allen has produced something of a slow-burning must-have album.
Todd Terje - It's Album Time - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
After DJing and remixing other artists' work for over a decade, Terje Olson finally gets around to releasing his debut-album. Strangely for someone seen as a creative force and visionary, Todd's played it safe with an album that is by turns playful, retro and groovy - for the most part. I'm reminded of Yello, Dimitri From Paris, Chromeo and Daft Punk on tracks such as Strandbar, Leisure Suit Preben and Delorean Dynamite, while the obvious summer anthem of the year thus far is Inspector Norse. With a title that nods to its creator's roots and the tracks coded bleeps, BBC 6 Music have been caning this and with good reason - it's good time nu-disco that first saw the light of day in 2012 as a hit-single across Northern Europe. I'm not sure about turning Robert Palmer's unassuming Johnny and Mary into a grandiose Moby-like ballad (with Bryan Ferry to boot) but on the whole It's Album Time is worth a punt.
Jennifer Lopez - A.K.A. - ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
The guest-stars on J-Lo's eighth studio-album pretty much tell you all you need to expect from it. Anonymous production-line RnB, sweetly-trilled faceless pop and too many no-songs make AKA a rather uneventful and unlovable listen, although I'm sure the collective egos of Nas, French Montana, Rick Ross and Iggy Azalea strived to make it a collaborative project to remember. I Luv Yah Papi and Emotions are meaningful I'm sure, but they're twee and shot through with saccharine, while Let It Be Me sounds like next year's Eurovision entry for any one prepared to shell out for fifth place. The worst effort on here not surprisingly features that narcissist of sexual bigotry, Pitbull, although to be fair, Lopez is mainly to blame for the risible Booty, a provincially mindless bum-worshipping wretch of a tune. Who buys this nonsense? It's an album that can only inspire firing a crossbow into your own eyeballs - it would be less painful - or serving a pizza on. To your enemies.
Klaxons - Love Frequency - ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Not so long ago, the quirky Klaxons were seen as something like the future of music (or something). Superseded by the likes of Bloc Party, Delphic and the like (three acts capable of matching the debut-album Myths Of The Near Future), Klaxons almost slipped under the radar until 2010's Surfing The Void popped up with the most memorable ingredient being the sleeve featuring the cat in the spacesuit. Yep, that one. Four years on and Klaxons have cranked up the synths and created a cheerless amalgam of retro '90s sub-rave and Noughties indie-schmindie disco. There Is No Other Time might be a portent of their future, a hideous stop-start-stop-start retread of Justice, CSS, Foals et al, while Show Me A Miracle is a laboured pop 'anthem' that sounds like a band regressing rather than advancing. Titles such as Rhythm Of Life, Children Of The Sun and Out Of The Dark fail to fill me with confidence and I'm proved correct when the songs seep out of the speakers like a bad techno smell. Only the pretty Liquid Light offers hope, partly due to the lack of any hippy-trippy lyrics and partly because it's short. The Dreamers is also passable, a sort of Glitter Band homage with tribal drums and minor-key harmonies. As for the rest, you takes your choice.
Lana Del Rey - Ultraviolence - ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆
It could be argued that Del Rey kick-started this trend for soulless, whiney, toe-gazing sulk-pop doing the rounds at the moment. Sharon Van Etten, Daughter are all doing what Mazzy Star and Tarnation were doing twenty-plus years ago - check the latter pair out, you'll find some great songs in both band's canons. Listening to Lana's second album is rather like being trapped in a motel-room watching disturbing b-movies back-to-back under the watchful eye of the local crazies (and David Lynch), a room where the lights flicker at such a rate as to induce fits and the liquor in your glass has been spiked with sour-milk and narcotics. Now all of this highly-imaginative imagery might appeal to many but the reality is, Ultraviolence is a claustrophobic and depressing 70 minute bind. The mostly slow-paced songs drift by in a fug of f-words, violence, threat and unease, creating what some will no doubt call a moody masterpiece, a tour-de-force and her 'greatest achievement'. OK, Shades Of Cool is admittedly special, Brooklyn Baby is Hope Sandoval to a tee and Fucked My Way Up To The Top is nothing if not direct. But the whole set is simply too much of the same thing - it's humourless and dark all the way through, it needs some light and it needs soul. Whilst it's refreshing to hear she hasn't buckled under pressure and made a brainless pop album, the frequent foot off the gas becomes an annoyance and a hinderance after a while. Disappointing.
Cerebral Ballzy - Jaded and Faded - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
New York City's Cult Records, founded and run by Strokes Julian Casablancas, is home to multi-faceted aggro-rockers Cerebral Ballzy who sport attitude and a photogenic line-up assured of column inches in all the right publications. No bad thing when you've got the substance to back it up and CB have it in droves. Most of Jaded and Faded is heads-down no-nonsense punk-rock that recalls Black Flag and Radkey, weighing in at under 35 minutes with each song under three minutes, save for Lonely America which is slower (ha!) and awash with feedback and a chorus. I imagine that live, sound-engineers must be teetering on the brink of becoming deaf at any moment, never mind the audiences. Speed Wobbles pays homage to the heady days of hardcore and the concluding All I Ever Wanted is a beautiful cacophony fir for the purpose of dropping your jaw too. And it sounds nothing like Strokes. Win.
Greys - If Anything - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Joining the likes of Speedy Ortiz, Cloud Nothings and Beach House on the hip Carpark imprint is Toronto's hard-hitting punk-bawling Greys who deliver a label debut full of venom, vitriol and verve. Short sharp shock is the blueprint of choice, with inevitable similarities to Fucked Up etc but less of the ear-bleeding results. Flip Yr Lid wouldn't sound amiss on a Husker Du demo while Adderall is almost Minor Threat in make-up. Almost. Behind the fury are some excitable hooks that might stop traffic - Chick Singer and Brain Dead are also likely to cause seizures in small clubs too - and much of Greys' output is dissonance perfected. In the words of Christopher Morris' parody presenter, the 7'oClock Jock, it's got some rather loud guitars on it.