One of the definite highlights from an otherwise patchy debut album, ‘Raise The Alarm’ opens in what sounds like a mass of sprawling guitars before settling down into something of a melodic and melancholic indie-rock number à la Muse. Nothing wrong with that of course as Rayne seem to have a knack of being able to conjure up wonderful anthemic delights that pull at the senses long after the player has grinded to a halt. New single ‘Raise The Alarm’ will definitely do their cause for indie-rock stardom no harm, especially with such lovelorn lyrics as, ‘And days roll into one, since the day you had gone, I’ve missed you forever’. Likely to be among the contenders next year.

Far from being a laugh a minute as songs muse over fears of dying and the curiosities associated with this very subject matter, Old Gray release ‘An Autobiography’, their debut album on Dog Knights Productions. The gradual encroachment of ‘Wolves’ with its delicate strumming and choir-esque vocals literally sensing the doom-laden content encircling before a Who-esque guitar jangle reminiscent of ‘Pinball Wizard’ provides a temporary lull before collapsing into a heap of gut wrenching emotions, marks the start of this full-length album in compelling style. The foreboding ‘Coventry’ (not about that one, although…) is full of self-loathing and hanging by the barest of threads only to be surpassed in the emotion stakes with the desperate escapism of ‘The Graduate’. Where ‘An Autobiography’ differs from several of its contemporaries’ efforts, however, is the scope and vision given to songs ‘Show Me How You Self-Destruct’, which allows for a differing tempo and instrumentation as does the enthralling structure of ‘I Still Think About Who I Was Last Summer’ giving the impression that Old Gray will be confronted without difficulties when it comes to developing their sound for album number two.

There is an honest confession parting from the lips of Sam Amidon and that being his debut ‘Bright Sunny South’ on Nonesuch Records is “a lonesome record”. Nothing could be further from the truth as ‘Bright Sunny South’ gives the impression of Amidon sitting alone in a deserted, ramshackle barn somewhere deep in the countryside as he strings together these beautifully complex folk songs of sparse arrangements. True, songs detail issues concerning fears of dying and the unfortunate spectacle of war, but elsewhere unrequited love and a burning sense of longing permeate throughout. Despite such sensitive subject matter, ‘Bright Sunny South’ is a beautiful album that slowly comes to its senses with the delicate opening breeze of keys and acoustic guitar of the title track as the revelations of war come into full focus. The light touches of jazz instrumentation continue the journey during ‘I Wish I Wish’, whereas ‘Short Life’ has a putrid scent of unfortunate times gone by. The mood is lifted, musically, somewhat from its knees with ‘My Old Friend’, possessing a lovely set of intertwining melodies, only to resume to the singular once more, despite its riled finale of distorted guitars, with the beyond bleak confessions ‘He’s Taken My Feet’. Sam Amidon has produced a profoundly beautiful and accomplished body of work that deserves to be heard by more than just the minority because ‘Bright Sunny South’ is a magnificent introduction to hopefully a long-lasting career.

It is not difficult to comprehend why Ruby Ann is one of German-based record label Rhythm Bomb’s top earners when hearing the wondrous vocals and authentic musicianship stemming from ‘Mama’s Back’. The belting R&B influenced ‘Call His Name’ sets the tone admirably but more notably for revealing the ace in the pack with Ruby Ann’s nothing short of compelling vocal delivery. In fact, it’s hard to differentiate between time periods throughout the entirety of the album as one literally feels transported back to a fifties era when things were perhaps a little simpler (‘I’ll Never Get Rich’) due to the authenticity of ‘Mama’s Back’. With leading contenders for such assertions being the chugging rockabilly ‘Do Right Mama’, ‘Baby I Don’t Care’ and defiant ‘No I Won’t Cry’, one can at least rest in the comfort that artists such as Ruby Ann is one of the forerunners for replicating a retro sound but within a modern framework of original material. With a new album set for release on the not-too-distant horizon, Ruby Ann will no doubt be securing more deserved success when that time is upon us. In the meantime, bask in the retro glory of ‘Mama’s Back’.

‘Secondhand Rapture’ could very well be a contender for album of the year if it were not for sounding like the smaller sibling of an already established act. Right from the off former single, and opening track, ‘Hurricane’ tugs at the senses with its pendulum beats and confessional lyrics delivered in a near detached execution and setting the stall out for a promising encounter. However, this is where the problem lies, despite being a more than solid effort, as nearly the majority of the album has more than a whiff of prime Florence & the Machine about it. This is something MS MR will have to get used to as ‘Bones’, ‘Ash Tree Lane’, ‘Head Is Not My Home’ et al prise up this more than worthy comparison and while there is nothing wrong with that, it just feels that the world is not in dire need of this right now which, unfortunately, the album’s title adequately sums up.

Pistol Annies open up with the blues tinged ‘I Feel A Sin Comin’ On’ that is all finger clicks, gorgeous harmonious vocals and more than a little suggestive in its desires. From this sultry opener it’s business as usual as the country roots branch out with the addictive country-pop of ‘Hush Hush’, nicely followed by the pressures of the daily routine of trying to look presentable ‘Being Pretty Ain’t Pretty’, and further complimented in nature with the unfortunate reality that plagues some relationships ‘Unhappily Married’ compellingly told in its darkly humorous trade-offs. There is some contentment to be found here, however, as the Steve Earle influenced ‘Loved By A Workin’ Man’ reveals that the male species has its charms only for the absorbing and beautifully executed ‘Blues, You’re A Buzzkill’ to bring the mood back down and revert to type once more. Difficult second album syndrome is definitely not a part of Pistol Annies’ vocabulary as ‘Annie Up’ is deserving of the highest plaudits.