Before I Hit the Floor kicks off the album with an energetic start, led by the whirring guitars of Ryan Breslin and Dexter Baker, which instantly set the tone. The track symbolises an emotional breakdown, an overarching theme that threads throughout the record. Nathan Peers on drums makes a bold entrance, while Jamie Boyle’s vocals channel vulnerability into empowerment. As an opener, it not only grabs your attention but sets the emotional groundwork for what’s to come, highlighting that this is The K’s at their most honest and personal yet.

The album journey resumes in Breakdown In My Bedroom, where The K’s seem to succeed in creating the perfect contrast between an upbeat indie tune and the deeper message behind the lyrics. As the first single to be released off the album, it was a suitable introduction to the Pretty On The Internet era, showing fans what they can look forward to on the new album. (…)

Pretty On The Internet signifies a contrast in The K’s music, compared to their debut album. While still creating an indie vibe, it incorporates orchestral instruments, adding a unique touch. This album not only showcases The K’s musical versatility, but it also explores their meaningful lyricism and artistic evolution. 

Picking Up the Pieces carries a similar upbeat vibe to the opening track- Before I Hit the Floor. The single captures a powerful blend of pain and the process of moving on, making it a standout release that resonates with listeners.

(At The Barrier)

More feels richly lived-in yet remarkably contemporary, lifted by Richard Jones’ lush, cinematic string arrangements – they're particularly striking on Partial Eclipse, whose outro drifts into a moody, Giacchino-esque beauty, reminiscent of the title card score from Lost.

Album opener Spike Island instantly charms with producer James Ford’s recognisable percussion riding aside Jarvis Cocker, all shimmer and gossamer, its rhythmic flourishes crafting an inviting sonic warmth that makes familiarity thrilling rather than stale.

The album's emotional anchor, Grown Ups, is a sprawling meditation whose string-laden melancholy distills decades of mundane experience into something surprisingly transcendent. It's vintage Pulp: charmingly cynical yet quietly profound, showcasing their enduring capacity to tap into life's bittersweet mundanity. But it’s Got to Have Love that truly ignites, its Latin disco exuberance colliding spectacularly with Cocker’s visceral declarations on the necessity of love, capturing a moment of genuine emotional clarity and wall-of-sound scale that tilts the listener backward.

(The Skinny)

Pulp often seemed older and somewhat wiser than their Britpop peers in the 1990s, so new, reflective investigations on the drawbacks of adult responsibility (Grown Ups, a terrific cousin to New Order’s Sub-Culture) still feel of a piece with their classics. Critically, though, More is also a musical match for those records, with Jarvis Cocker’s excellent Jarv Is band fleshing out the Pulp line-up, and producer James Ford discreetly refreshing the kitchen-sink showstoppers and art-disco come-hithers.

Plenty of Easter eggs for the fans – Background Noise is reminiscent of Bad Cover Version, and features Cocker musing “Don’t remember the first time” – but More is that rarest of reunion records: one that transcends nostalgia to actually enhance a band’s legacy.

(Mojo)

Nicht nur per „/“ im Albumtitel versuchen The Kooks die unbeschwerte Dreistigkeit des nicht nur im Hit „Naïve“ bezaubernd naiven, aber nun auch schon fast zwei Jahrzehnte alten Debütalbums INSIDE IN/INSIDE OUT wieder heraufzubeschwören, das so wundervoll jugendliche Unbekümmertheit mit modischer Melancholie verband. Das gelingt in seltenen Momenten, so ausgerechnet in „If They Only Could Know“, in dem sich Pritchard wehmütig an seine Eltern erinnert und sich wünscht, sie hätten noch erlebt, dass ihr Sprössling das Glück gefunden hat.

Doch die Suche nach der Leichtigkeit der frühen Tage kann sich wie in „Arrow Through Me“ auch in Belanglosigkeit verlieren oder im penetrant sonnigen „Sunny Baby“ gleich ins Lächerliche kippen: „When you love me you make me feel ten foot tall.“ Dass Pritchard zwar schmissige Melodien kann, aber halt auch nicht der begnadetste Lyriker ist, merkt man nicht nur, wenn er „take me down to love street“ auf „you hit me like a freight train“ reimt. Ja, „it’s tough at the top“, da haste recht, Luke, aber so ganz oben auf der Höhe biste halt nicht mehr.

(musikexpress)

Der Opener „First Choice” atmet zeitlose Britpop-Melancholie, „All Yours Now” katapultiert die Franzosen von Air in die Referenzliste und Songs die „Teenage Dreams” heißen, funktionieren ohnehin immer. Was den beiden jungen Musikern ungemein gut gelingt, ist den Sound zu zelebrieren, mit dem sie selbst aufgewachsen sind. Eine fast schon spielerische Symbiose aus French Touch und eben Britpop. Und so passt auch das Geburtsjahr der beiden Künstler als Albumtitel.

Als weitere Keytracks kristallisieren sich nach einigen Wiederholungsdurchläufen „My Hero” und der wunderschöne Closer „The Seattle Boat” heraus, die es ebenso mit einer gewissen Leichtigkeit schaffen den Hörer in eine andere Zeit zu versetzen, ohne dabei retro zu wirken. 

Insgesamt liefern Kids Return ein wunderbares Zweitwerk welches gleich auf mehreren Ebenen funktioniert. Als Nostalgieanker oder auch als Soundtrack für die heutige Jugend. 

(Frontstage Magazine)

It’s a sad perspective but there just aren’t many artists within the genre creating such an uplifting melodic and instrumental sound. The singles on this record are massive, and songs that may propel them to the next level. Heartbreaker is a real throwback to that mid-noughties indie boom, with a melody that mimics the guitar rhythm throughout, and wouldn’t sound out of place on a Pigeon Detectives or Strokes record. (…)

There’s real foot stompers such as Dynamite with a driving snare coercing with an attacked jab of a guitar, and a beautiful walk down melodic chorus that The Lathums have mastered so well over the years. Stellar Cast sounds as if The Specials and Arctic Monkeys had a lovechild (…).

(When The Horn Blows)

Außerdem folgen dem hochtrabenden Titelstück elf unverschämt gut gelaunte Songs. Sie strotzen vor Optimismus mit hellem Gitarrengeklingel und Dur-Harmonien, die die Band uns mit unerklärlicher Euphorie und schamlos altmodischen Rock-Arrangements um die Ohren dengelt. Mittfünfziger Bradfeld jubelt in den hohen Tönen wie ein Zwanzigjähriger, man wähnt sich bei einem Pub-Gig der Brilliant Corners oder der Waterboys Ende der 80er- Jahre. Ist das jugendlicher Übermut oder beginnende Demenz? Hoffen wir auf Ersteres.

(musikexpress)

Es gibt die linksintellektuellen Alternative-Rock-Manics und die linksintellektuellen Überlasst-den-Mainstream-nicht-den-Spacken-Manics. Letztere Version haben sie seit „Postcards From A Young Man“ (2010) nicht mehr so überzeugend gespielt. Unter der glatten Oberfläche lauern wieder mal die Tiefen des politisch grundierten Liebeslieds, etwa in dem von Nicky Wire gesungenen „Hiding In Plain Sight“.

(Rolling Stone)

Opener ‘Sweet Surrender’ leans into a fully sun-scorched ‘Screamadelica’ groove as Fray lays down some Guy Garvey-esque portrayals of “another rottweiler in the bar” and “a cockroach in the cubicle”, painting poetry onto the streets of Manchester. Rising Scottish soul artist and regular Courteeners support act Brooke Combe, meanwhile, lays down acoustic guitar with the chugging of a runaway train.

Aussie tearaways DMA’S hop on the arena-crushing ‘The Beginning Of The End’ to form the ultimate indie disco supergroup, with English singer-songwriter Pixey lending her bittersweet tones to the state-of-the-nation address of album highlight ‘First Name Terms’, hitting back at a ruling class who “look away from you and me”, finding “another way to shake the fucking tree” as we “lie back and think of England, but when does England ever think of you?”

It only adds to the full heart, fed mind and kaleidoscopic feel of the record.

(NME)

Not that The Mighty Several doesn’t have its autobiographical moments. It’s just more interested in casting an eye over the awfulness (Stop The Boats bigots) and excellence (unsung care workers, attentive friends) of the British public. Or the magic of enduring love, but its fragility when it’s pigheadedly squandered. Or the ruinous effects of alcohol on families, but also the glory of a good pub (Walk On/Slow Down being Heaton’s spin on Orwell’s Moon Under Water). It’s all laced with dark humour, notably on Couldn’t Get Dead (a song about hapless failed attempts at suicide). That dance between light and shade is assisted by an Ian Broudie production which juxtaposes the jaunty with the jaundiced. All human life isn’t here – not quite – but the life that’s here is wonderfully human.

(Record Collector)

In full pub-philosopher mode throughout, Heaton delivers a good-natured rant on the closing track, “Walk On, Slow Down”. Backed by burbling electronica, he advises the listener to skip boozers playing Britpop. His preference, he continues, is for a watering hole with “Pointless on TV” and where the “barman’s half asleep”. It’s a wonderful image to end a record that sounds like a collection of postcards from a world we all recognise but seldom encounter in modern pop.

(i news)

Die beiden größten Brillenträger des Rock’n’Roll – Buddy Holly und Roy Orbison („All That I Needed“) – klingen dabei genauso durch wie die elektrifizierten Simon & Garfunkel („Beyond The Horizon“) oder John Fogerty („I Wrote The Book“). Was bei all diesen US-Referenzen Freunde des insular geprägten Teils der Rockhistorie am meisten zu Begeisterungsstürmen bewegen dürfte, sind drei perfekte Britpop-Peergroup-Nummern („Never Said Goodbye“, „Got To Let You Go“ sowie „Still Got Time“), die ­Oasis‘ melodische Beatles-Besessenheit besser aufgreifen als so vieles aus dem getrennten Hause Gallagher seit Mitte der 90ies.

(musikexpress)

The album, like the very best pop music, doesn’t hang around. Ten songs, thirty one minutes and there’s no filler. Each song here could be a single from the opener Big Star where Tom muses on his shyness approaching industry figures, wistfully recalling classic music imagery and imagining himself in those situation. The Jungle-produced first single What Can I Say After I’m Sorry felt a little light on first release but makes perfect sense in the album context. (…)

Gary is Blossoms’ most accessible cohesive record to date. It’ll delight their long-term fans. It’ll win them a swathe of new ones with the more direct pop approach of the singles. And it’ll continue to infuriate those who see them as some sort of indie traitors. Gary is a fun, joyous half-hour distraction from the state of the world that doesn’t take itself too seriously. It might not change anything, but it’ll make you smile.

(Louder Than War)

The remarkable thing about L.A. Times, though, is that the album as a whole feels quintessentially American, and Southern Californian at that: it's a vibrant and lively intersection of styles and ideas, all heard through the prism of an expatriate who remains enamored and bewildered by his new home. Dig beneath the surface, and the lyrics make plain Healy's claim of the album being a personal record, but the trick that Travis pull off with L.A. Times is that it is engaging on the surface thanks to colorful melodies and shifting arrangements -- the very things that beg for subsequent listens, the ones where themes reveal themselves.

(AllMusic)

L.A. Times is at times wistfully joyful, yet also menacing and dark. It could be their most personal and exposed record in years, and as a result its honesty really strikes a chord.

(Under The Radar)

Short and to the point, ‘L.A. Times’ is a succinct example of Travis’ musicality. A mixed bag, it’s held together by feverish energy, and some of the band’s mainstays – the emotional curiosity, the willingness to think outside the box, and those empathetic vocals. A real charmer.

(Clash Music)

They say abstinence makes the heart fonder, well, for The Rifles as a writing new music band, it has. The album is steeped in the kind of love and hope George Harrison would look upon fondly. It marks a new era for the band. The need to produce chaos has faded into wry takes on that era, and their most mainstream rock classic sound to date. Let’s hope it’s not another eight years. 

(Traveller’s Tune)