The Horrors: Primary Colours

After a harsh and edgy garage rock debut, The Horrors have taken stock and, no doubt aided by Portishead producer Geoff Barrow, re-emerged with a far more polished and elegant follow up. The raw arty originality of the their debut is perhaps the only element retained in this fresh blossoming of sophisticated psychedelia.

Florence & The Machine: Lungs

Every year the media seem to select an upcoming artist, and focus all the promotional effort and hype equipment on that one act. Florence Leontine Mary Welch and her accomplished machine seem to be this years fairly worthy benefactors.

Despite being a fairly modern upbeat poppy album, there’s a bit of a dark, sometimes disturbing and almost gothic thread running through the piece.

For example the well jolly little domestic violence ditty, “Kiss With A Fist” is entertaining and is hopefully tongue-in-cheek enough to ensure its message is not misconstrued.

The Low Anthem: Oh My God, Charlie Darwin

What a brilliant album title, how could I not get myself a copy? The Low Anthem are an American alternative rock/folk combo with founding members Ben Knox Miller and Jeff Prystowsky now augmented with classical composer Jocie Adams, (A NASA technician no less).

So is there much beyond a quirky album name. Oh yes indeed. OMGCD is released on the Bella Union label (the home of Fleet Foxes), and there are many comparisons that can be drawn between the two bands.

There’s plenty of variety within the album from the sepia toned gentle folk of “To Ohio”, the stomping blues of “Home I’ll Never Be” the country romp of the title track, the harmonic, almost, Simon & Garfunkel vocals of “Cage the Songbird” and the atmospheric brilliance of “To The Ghosts Who Write History Books”.

OMGCD has tinges of Dylan and Cohen and is modern Americana at its finest.

Mastodon: Crack In the Skye

It appears that by buggering about with Greek mythology, silly spiritualism and dodgy physics Mastodon have created a nice little metallic yarn of astral projections, wormholes and spiritual channelling.

The music itself is heavier than a sack of anvils with lustrous guitar solos leaning much more on Metallica than the heady earlier days of metal. Not really a genre I know extensively, but this certainly seems to be the cream of this particular genus.

Brett Anderson: Slow Attack

As with last year’s enchanting “Wilderness”, the pop hooks and sleek guitar solos of Andersons Suede days are shelved in favour of more pastoral piano and cello pieces with slight orchestration. Anderson’s instantly recognisable voice fits beautifully with this delicate chamber pop and songs like “The Hunted” and “Julian’s Eyes” perfectly demonstrate how successful it can be. However, for me, the album as a whole falls slightly short of its predecessor.