While the world waits for the Liam and Noel reunion, Beady Eye’s second long player actually comes with a strong recommendation of being rather good. Sure, there are still one or two nods towards Liam Gallagher’s former band, coupled with some grating rhyming by numbers lyrics, but at least this time around Beady Eye has managed to step off the Oasis carousel for the majority of the ride. The noticeable difference is a greater use of restraint best heard on the brooding ‘Soul Love’ and beautiful delicacy of ‘Start Anew’ that eventually soars into orbit and recalls guitarist Andy Bell’s former cohorts. ‘Second Bite of The Apple’ could be a personal note to self or merely noting the cynicism of the music press with Liam having his feet tickled by the latest edition of the NME. Elsewhere, ‘Soon Come Tomorrow’ meanders into an enclosed area unable to find the exit due to its lack of direction only to be rescued by the more lively ‘I’m Just Saying’ and experimental duo of ‘Don’t Bother Me’ and ‘Shine A Light’. It seems the sibling rivalry looks set to run another course as Beady Eye have reinvigorated themselves and raised the bar somewhat.

Palm Bay’s Gillian Carter is really on the brink of subsiding into a state of nothingness with the clues being hidden in such lonely vessels as ‘Waking Up (Lost Ships)’ and appropriately titled ‘I’ve Been Forgotten And So Have You’. There is time for reflection, despite facing the inevitable, when the brakes are applied during ‘Recently’ whereas ‘Time (All That Is Left Is Fading)’ suggests a sense of humour with the band enjoying their last supper together before the diminishing light finally fades. It is left, however, to the penultimate, and almost title track, ‘Sinking With The Ships’ to really tower over the preceding content as it’s an absolute colossus of a song ending in a wafer thin line of feedback and fading pulse of accompanying drumbeat. Bleak yet utterly compelling, ‘Lost Ships Sinking With The Sunset’ signals out Gillian Carter as one of the serious contenders in their field.

Despite its misleading imagery that will no doubt have the rockabilly fraternity salivating in droves, Sydney based producer and songwriter Ilias has constructed an album’s worth of material best suited to the genre of indie. The end result is ‘Somewhere In Time’ which lives up to its moniker as the whole album gives the impression of fleeting memories rather than detailing the intricate parts of a succession of broken relationships. Such emotions are given credence due to the dreamscape atmosphere wafting through nearly each and every song from the opening hazy shimmer of ‘Never Utter The Word Never’ to the delicate strumming and texture running through ‘One Of A Kind’. ‘This Life’ provides a bit more meat on the bones in terms of the central protagonist only to head straight into the same cryptic tunnel once more with  ‘Lonely’ despite a more robust tempo. Clearly one to not give too much away, Ilias has conjured up an album that is beautiful in its execution, recalling elements of Radiohead, Travis and even more encouragingly the sparseness of a latter-day Talk Talk, and remains equally beguiling in terms of its scant narratives.

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.