Back catalogue: Indie/Alternative

Review: Given that Isle of White twosome Wet Leg (AKA late twenty-somethings Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers) broke through with an insanely infectious chunk of monosyllabic rap-sporting post-punk pop, the stupidly catchy 'Chaise Longue', it seems fitting that the song lands early on their self-titled debut album - track two, to be precise. While the set features little else quite as upbeat, energetic and unashamedly joyous, it's still a boisterous and at times brilliant debut full of tongue-in-cheek lyrics, low-slung post-punk intent, raucous references to vintage '80s and '90s indie, weighty guitar riffs and ear-catching melodic motifs. It's the kind of set capable of pushing them towards super-stardom and will undoubtedly be warmly received by critics.

Review: Hailing from the Isle of Wight and steadily building in momentum via a run of stunning singles, Wet Leg are making their much anticipated breakthrough with their debut album on Domino. The duo hit a note between the brooding post punk and new wave romanticism and a spikier pop streak which should find them winning hearts and minds all over festival season. 'Chaise Longue', 'Wet Dream' and 'Too Late Now' have been doing the rounds since the girls signed to Domino in 2021, and it only takes one listen to know they're going to be huge. Razor sharp hooks, singalong choruses and a droll sense of humour are all conspiring to make Wet Leg your new favourite band.

Review: Whoever wrote the release notes to Matthew E White's long-awaited return to the release schedule, take a bow. "Retro-futurist magic tricks," they say about his music. While the wording is abstract enough to border on nonsense, we're struggling to think of a better way to describe K Bay. It's constantly switching things up on you, producing one white rabbit from a black hat after another. Even expecting the unexpected can't save you from being consistently (and pleasantly) surprised.

Throughout the course of the record you'll find epic string balladry, 1980s pop, disco, funk, dad rock, acoustic guitar work, and marching band oddities. It's a varied celebration that truly summarises the musical era we are living in - best described simply as post modern. An age when the rules no longer apply because the charts are no longer relevant, leaving artists free to explore their creative ideas to the nth degree.

Review: Robert Wyatt is one of those artists you can't help but find fascinating, having overseen some seismic shifts in the UK music scene since emerging in the mid-1960s as a kit drummer for Soft Machine and member of fellow Canterbury prog rockers Matching Mole. Over the years he has given us some incredible art-pop jazz stuff, helping lay at least some of the necessary groundwork for lo-fi soul and electronica, slowly becoming something of a mythical legend in his own right.

His Greatest Misses is a great way to familiarise yourself with the musical story, if all that was news to you. Contrary to the title's suggestion, not everything here flew under the radar when it was first released. His incredible, hypnotic interpretation of 'I'm A Believer' by The Monkees is one, the other is 'Shipbuilding', written for Wyatt by Elvis Costello and Clive Langer. Details aside, this is more than an anthology - it's a presentation on why the artist demands such respect among peers and public alike.