Album reviews

THIS release proves that 28 years on, the Manic Street Preachers definitely still have it. The release, which will be the 12th album from James Dean Bradfield, Nicky Wire and Sean Moore, is a mixed bag – 40 per cent of old MSP and 60 per cent modern version of MSP. Featuring a wealth of intricate instrumentals and catchy choruses to showcase their pure talent, as well as the talent of many other Welsh artists, Between The Clock And The Bed (featuring Green Gartside) and Black Square come the closest to recreating the genius of the hit singles from their fourth album, Everything Must Go, while the rest of the record churns out one good song after another. In the catchy and modern title track, Bradfield croons: "We'll come back one day". If this album is anything to go by, that seems highly likely.

Nicole Gallagher

Bright Light Bright Light: This Is Easy

THE band which is really London-based Welshman Rod Thomas, returns after his critically acclaimed 2012 debut album Make Me Believe In Hope. His brand of clean and clear synthpop is evident here as he sings of love and loss but with a glimmer of optimism. In Your Care and I Wish We Were Leaving are here, the latter being a lovely, heartbreaking duet with Sir Elton John, and Happiness, which beautifully closes the album, is another stand-out track. This is pure and simple pop, and after a few listens, the melodies will sneak into your brain.

Lisa Allen

Midge Ure: Fragile

THE Ultravox frontman's first solo offering in 12 years has certainly been a long time coming, but boy, was it worth the wait. Personal and at times painfully honest, Ure likens the record to a diary, with each track relating to chapters in the 60 years of his life (for better or worse). It begins optimistically with the triumphant I Survived, and takes in highs and lows along the way, before ending with the title track – an agonising deconstruction of his battle with the bottle. It's a solo release in the truest sense of the word: Ure wrote, performed, mixed and produced almost every track himself. Only a very few numbers rely on outside help – most notably Dark, Dark Night, which boasts beats by none other than Moby.

Rob Lavender

Marc Almond: 10 Plagues

HIS Seedy synth poppers Soft Cell were always drawn to the darker side of life, but, now in his fifties, Marc Almond is topping that with a song cycle chronicling the 100,000 deaths caused by the plague of London in 1665. It's a challenging work, not just because of its subject matter, but because Almond is backed only by acclaimed composer Connor Mitchell's angular piano. Still the straightforward libretto by playwright Mark Ravenhill is affecting and the Merseyside crooner's voice, though technically imperfect, still has that panting urgency of his Soft Cell days. It's heavy-going - a brief song about the transforming quality of a wig is as lighthearted as it gets - yet it is a curiously intimate and ultimately affirming work. Those hankering for Almond's pop flamboyance should check out the extended EP, The Dancing Marquis, which may be rather spotty in quality, but at it's best, shows what a talent Almond is. Burn Bright is a gorgeous, aching ballad recorded with Tony Visconti, famous for his production work with David Bowie. The Jarvis Cocker-penned Worship Me merges Eighties synths with pounding club beats and Almond in imperious form. Say hello to Marc Almond, again.

Mark Edwards

Comet Gain: Paperback Ghosts

FOUNDED on a bedrock of anti-careerism, it is remarkable that Comet Gain have lasted 20 years. Changing faces mean the current band, mainstay David Feck aside, is quite indistinguishable from the previous line-up. Since 2011's Howl Of The Lonely Crowd, former Huggy Bear man Jon Slade has departed and Clientele bassist James Hornsey has joined. Paperback Ghosts follows a familiar script, one of habitual melancholy, reflections on blazing romance, crushing heartbreak and aching nostalgia, through the prism of "council wrecks, empty football fields, children's toys buried under the grass" in a London of fading glories. It is a quite beautiful record, from the Northern Soul footstomper of Confession Of A Daydream, the girl-group strut of (All The) Avenue Girls, to the psychedelia of An Orchid Stuck Inside Her Throat, a mournful, barely-sung monologue that swings alive through an organ-driven sunburst.

John Skilbeck