Back catalogue: Rock (All)

Review: Quade's second album is steeped in the isolation and raw beauty of its birthplace: a crumbling Welsh barn surrounded by moors. The Bristol four-piece i Barney Matthews, Leo Fini, Matt Griffiths and Tom Connolly i channel this wild setting into a sound that's both fragile and immense, blurring ambient-dub textures with ghostly folk melodies and the drifting crescendos of post-rock. The Foel Tower feels like it was pulled from misty hillsides and long, firelit nights, an album of quiet intensity: tender one moment, potent the next, yet always emotionally direct. Tracks unfold patiently, as if shaped by the slow grind of weather over stone. There's a strong undercurrent of personal grief and resilience here too. The band's longtime friendship and collective hardships add a tangible intimacy, turning these atmospheric compositions into acts of quiet survival. The Foel Tower transcends as it is stark, gorgeous and deeply human. This is music for the in-between moments: dusk turning to night, silence folding into sound.

Review: Half a century young, the third album from America's genuinely iconic leather-clad glam queen Suzi Quatro was a bit of sidewinder, seeing her switch from the brash rock pop fusion of her first two LPs to take in a funk influence, still working under the winning production duo of Mike Chapman and Nicky Chinn. Check the title track and its echoes of Sly & The Family Stone or Steve Wonder, wonderfully twinned with Quatro's sassy vocal attitude, for evidence of the stylistic refresh, her distinctive and groove-heavy bass playing pushed further into the centre of the sound. 'Can't Trust Love', meanwhile, is a headnodding, blunted delight, too, while the futuristic synths of 'Strip Me' are closer to Herbie Hancock's Headhunters than The Sweet in vibe. Well ahead of its time, this is timeless stuff.

Review: Portland, Oregon's Graham Jonson urges our hurries once more with Heard That Noise, an anemological study in ascendant post-rock and psych. Jonson crafts intimate, zigzagging and west windy songs, ploughing the grey, sludgy boundaries of folk, pop, and noise. Following a subtle tangent from SoundCloud renown to 2021's The Long and Short Of It, he now follows that record up through a desultory reflection on breakups, memory, and creative rediscovery; Phil Elverum, Dijon and Nick Drake glance through the sonic cloud cover as ancestral muses, while the record blends warmth and discordance, where sweet ballads unravel into distortion; serene moments jolted by sonic "jump scares."