The Norwegian outfit make the most of a break in the Big Big Train schedule for Oskar Holdorff to return to Dim Gray and deliver a new set of their trademark fusion of pop sensibilities with arty rock and lush atmospherics.

Songs of change, upheaval and severance are given the treatment that marks Dim Gray as the band that A-Ha could have been. Mournful strings and an aching vocal delivery that talks of “falling to my knees again” contrast with the spiky guitar and a bouncy jig of Murals and the shift in dynamics that swings from reverential to overblown across the course of the driving heaviness on Little One.

The widescreen production is bookended by two songs that offer a more hopeful perspective, that sees Shards nudge Dim Gray back to the verges of a wider breakthrough success that reaches beyond the faithful BBT passengers.

Is Blues as relevant as ever in 2025? Will Wilde is on a mission to prove the affirmative. Backed by a stellar band – for starters, the title track sees him joined by Walter Trout – Will goes some way to backing up his mission to “really mean it,” adding his own stamp to the established formula.

A swig on the bottle marked Learn How To Love, wise choice as a single tease for the album, gives a taste of honking harp, backing vox from a trio of soul sisters, and lashings of organ and Gibson fuelled riffs.

Grooves aplenty from a rhythm section that knows exactly how to set a tempo, give Will the chance to fill the top line with the expected fire and dirt vocals and a healthy dose of harp. Not just about putting his own stamp on the Blues, more like hammering it into the ground. Great stuff.

Remember Broken Land? The big sky and uillean pipes monster all over the singles chart in 1988? The Adventures, presumed lost after a couple or so further albums are back, with original members, Pat and Eileen Gribben, and Terry Sharpe.

The sound is a surprise, embracing an electro-pop amalgam of Aha, the Korgis and Buggles, fizzy froth, with copious walls of backing vocals behind Sharpe’s androgynous moan. Gribben, P, still writes all the material, and it is a beguiling retro showcase that sometimes strays too close to other influences; Simon & Garfunkel and even Neil Young, even if blending them into the same more-ish concoction.

Highlights include opener, Imaginary Girlfriend, and L.U.C.Y., a co-write with Cathy Dennis, and sung by Eileen Gribben. The risk of a sugar overload lifts for the rockabilly lite charm of The Hanging Tree, before the echo-drenched and Lennon-esque finale of To Whom It Concerns.

An overload of claustrophobic and ominous heavy psychedelic rock from the US sextet fronted by the nigh on seven foot presence of Brandon Kistler. Silver And Gold delivers the goods with a kaleidoscope of heavy psych and proggy riffs, sexy grooves of magick and even a death metal-inspired ripper.

As guitars dole out both atmosphere and crunch, the whiff of of hot valves and fizz of electricity dominates. Runnin’ With Friend Of The Devil could be their theme song yet emerging from the mist are patches of light when the intensity takes a breather. Fadeaway is almost a lullaby, but star turn could be the freewheeling thrash that bucks and rears on Dirty. What’s guaranteed though is that a fuzzy riff, a doom laden vibe or the casting of a deep and menacing spell is never too far away.

A byline of Celtic jangle. An enthralling powerhouse roustabout of chiming guitars. Distinctive vocals and a choogly rhythm section. Imagine the love child of Teenage Fanclub and The Smiths, fronted by a youthful Richard Thompson. Indeed a winning ticket.

Their second release is triumph that gets you on your feet and fist a’pumping. Jangular well and truly hit. The 9 songs are short, sharp, sweet and to the point, buoyed by the sparkly guitar of Dan Lucas, in a change of line-up. The vocal of Owen Williams offers the secret weapon; a lubriously dark mutter of rich musicality.

His songs encompass often a darker side. His mother was Charlotte Greig, the late folk singer and touch on her death by suicide. Irrespective. I can think of fewer more joyful ways to spend a minute under half an hour, although Freak Mode and One More Day insist on repeat plays, as does the more lyrical closer, Strange. Plus, can you resist a song, Fair Enough, that starts “(I) know I’ve been an arsehole, baby“.