Bevis Man

Thematically this is the Ryan Adams we have grown to love, all dusty highways, smoky bars and moments of gentle personal introspection.

Too cold and distancing to be able to connect to.

An album that rarely dips below being immensely enjoyable.

Not quite as loud, but just as enthrallingly intense.

Remember Remember choose to teeter on the edge of epic rather than fiercely indulging in it.

An enchantingly pleasing record.

The strongest tracks on the record are those where Eno's influence is most clearly felt.

On the surface at least, very little has changed.

Guitar-driven stratospheric ecstasy is the order of the day and it works wonderfully.

A surprisingly entertaining package.

A genuinely striking piece of work that triumphantly balances the fears of society breaking down with an unflinching will to challenge this.

Whilst it's intrinsically filled with open-hearted sadness, the music itself is rarely overly sombre or depressive.

Only die-hards are likely to press repeat.

Too uncoordinated, un-moderated and incoherent to do more than dazzle and confuse in equal proportions.

Let’s be frank here, what this band needs is a punch in the face and to grow some balls.

The band's fourth album is largely an up and down affair.

The very nature of remix albums means they are rarely cohesive as a collective whole.

A passionately crafted third album that resonates with a desire to look to the past for inspiration.

Brutal, exhausting and at times genuinely terrifying.

Whilst such experimentation is commendable in many respects, in practise the album fails miserably.

The unmistakable vocals of Dave Martin remain as gripping as ever on this new five-track EP.

A worthy successor to 'Comfort Of Strangers'.

If the band were ever guilty of anything since their conception in 2001, it is their inability to make a consistent album.

There’s little room for filler on an album that is as direct and immediate as 'Fused'.