Fran Carlyon has been writing acoustic based songs in the folk tradition for a number of years now. He records them in threadbare fashion in as few takes as possible, incorporating synths and electronics to add light and shade. In his view, capturing the initial spark of inspiration is key, as it conveys the message and meaning in the purest possible way. After a batch of digital singles, his debut mini album, Home Truths, was released 6th February via the wonderful Manchester/Brighton based label YYZ Records. Beyond his songs, Fran is a kind of musical soul brother to us, sharing our values and taste in true independent music and being very active in the underground independent scene: he writes for HeavyMetalKids.uk and DJs at Ship Full Of Bombs, Southend’s alternative radio station.
The High Span is a UK post-pop band based in Medway, Kent. Formed by songwriter Kevin Younger in late 2019, the band’s sound is possibly best described as a pop-inflected mix of sprightly guitar jangle and suburban angst. Releasing their first EP, Quirky Miniboss Squad, in 2020 on the Spinout Nuggets label, they tapped into a vein of English bloodiness and absurdity which was followed up in their first, self titled, album in 2023. The band comprises Kevin Younger (guitar, vocal, keys), Mark Aitken (bass), Canadian expat Jimmy Moore (drums), and Sarah Post (vocals). A history of the players’ previous bands includes Subway Sect, The Speed of Sound, Ye Ascoyne d’Ascoynes, Baby Birkin, London Dirthole Company, and Canadian grunge heroes Rusty among many others. Their latest album, Blithering is out now on Spinout Nuggets.
Over the course of nearly forty years, Would-Be-Goods have occupied a space all their own in the history of British independent pop: lateral, coherent, and resistant to easy categorisation within any specific scene. Born in the late 1980s as a Jessica Griffin project, they emerged in the orbit of Mike Alway’s El Records with The Camera Loves Me (1988), an album that showcased an extraordinary songwriting voice, capable of portraying eccentric characters and oblique situations with a seemingly impassive tone and melodies of surprising elegance. Flanked by The Monochrome Set, Griffin immediately defined a distinctive aesthetic, destined to stand the test of time. Soon afterwards, however, she withdrew from the public scene to return to her work in the City, resurfacing only a few years later with Mondo (1993), which confirmed and expanded that universe, before Would-Be-Goods evolved, from 2000 onwards, into a fully-fledged band. With the addition of Peter Momtchilloff, Deborah Green, and Lupe Nuñez-Fernandez (later replaced by Andy Warren) the project assumed a new shape, giving rise to a series of EPs and the albums Brief Lives and The Morning After, culminating in 2008’s Eventyr. After a long silence and the unexpected release of The Night Life (2023), conceived in the midst of Covid and built around songs written and recorded in a single day, with Tears Before Bedtime, the band reaffirm their poetics of restraint, imagination, and attention to detail, far removed from the pressures of passing trends. A discreet yet tenacious journey, spanning decades without ever losing its identity. With Jessica Griffin, affable and elegant as ever, we went for a deeper journey -track by track- into the heart of Would-Be-Goods amazing new album.
Dio benedica i listening party di Bandcamp. Perché è grazie a quest’iniziativa che ho perso la testa per il nuovo disco di Clémentine March, Powder Keg, uscito per Prah Recordings e già recensito con cinque stelle da Shindig!, a oggi la mia pubblicazione musicale di riferimento. Quando un’artista ti racconta il suo lavoro durante il primo ascolto del risultato finale non puoi che meravigliarti e sentirti parte di qualcosa di nascosto ai più, alle volte intimo, sicuramente concreto, come tenere un vinile in mano.
There’s something fundamentally wrong about year-end lists.Not because music isn’t worth celebrating, but because trying to pin down twelve months of listening into a tidy hierarchy of numbers is, at best, an exercise in personal mythology and, at worst, a meaningless ritual we repeat out of habit. Albums don’t exist to be ranked, art doesn’t ask to be quantified, and the emotional weight of a record rarely has anything to do with its position on a list. And yet, despite all of this (or maybe because of it) I keep coming back to them. If I’ve been deeply skeptical for years about the usefulness and meaning of compiling those infamous year-end rankings, I’m even more so this time around about the point of publishing them in the second half of February. We’re all already focused on the future (and thankfully so, since we usually spend far too much time staring back with our wide, nostalgic eyes), and in the first month and a half of 2026, a dozen or so albums have already been released that, I’m willing to bet, will end up in my year-end top 100 (which, perhaps, will be published in March 2027, assuming I ever find the courage to embark on a Herculean and ultimately futile undertaking like this one). So, what’s the point? Well, I’ve done it now, and as usual I’m happy to share this list of my favorite albums of the past year with anyone willing to read it. This is, of course (though it’s always best to specify it every time), a list based purely on my own tastes and sensibilities, and it makes no claim to represent the best of what was released in the past year. It also doesn’t include many albums that, while I truly appreciate them, I simply haven’t gotten around to exploring in depth, or that, while magnificent, arrived at the wrong time for me. I could easily make a separate list of at least fifty albums that fall into this category. So take it for what it is: a list written with heart and passion, gathering some of the 2025 releases that sparked my passion and found their way into my heart. And, as always, if you end up discovering even a single album you missed (and, please, let me know), then all the time I’ve spent putting this together won’t have been wasted.
Indie Sunset in Rome 