Articles by Jared Dix
Maybe less a heartbreak album than a dark night of the soul, but it finds its way back to the light.
This music is half awake, a blur of memory and dream, ideal for flights of idle fancy.
A brilliant album, Last of the Better Days Ahead draws on the strengths of an impressive career and still expands the scope of Parr’s music.
Stunningly realised, an overwhelming piece of work. Terrifying and beautiful.
A course of gently analgesic library music. Hawksmoor’s blend of electronics and live instruments decorating still, quiet, rooms in slowly changing moods.
More sees them further honing their attack, condensing down their weirdo sludge punk into gut punch blasts.
One of our most inventive and forward looking bands, there is something about Snapped Ankles that’s more sci-fi than back to nature.
Noise-hop cheerleaders and candy-striped, sunshine pop so joyous it’s probably fortified with vitamin D.
New set of lush abstracts from loscil is as rich, detailed and multilayered as we’ve come to expect.
Failure, self doubt and projection abound but Contender is also full to the brim with soaring choruses and an absolute sackload of power pop hooks to wash that bitter medicine down.
It’s a very healing record, full of calm acceptance. A reconciliation with the darkness.
Up from dank earth and onto bright headland, the usual layers of tones and drones are now warmer, softer, almost weightless.
Telex’s futurism is mostly a mundane modernism. They do not want to be robots or conceive sci-fi utopias in sound. They’re named after a piece of office equipment.
The atmosphere it generates is so complete and instant it’s like entering a different place.
The album unfolds with an understated magic, always with another modest surprise to delight you just around the corner.
Hallucinatory strangeness echoing down the years in multiple voices from the divine into the dark satanic.
A teeth grind march, noise and bile over battering drums, the definitive rant.
Honest enough to get experimental without being pompous about it. True believers in the dumb adolescent mess of energy and defiance that makes for the best rock ‘n’ roll. Praise the Lord.
