Twenty Years Of Treasures

Lose yourself in the crashing of ocean waves on a grey rainy day.

Fizzy, foggy, futuristic farmhouse bliss.

A ballet on Venus at midnight.

This album could have been called Spirit Box, I swear it’s haunted.

You found a cassette tape on Route 66 that fell out of a punks car at the service station.

Leave it on all day if you feel disconnected.

When I was a child, I welcomed the blistering sun by the ocean. It was worth it to feel the freedom of what had been burnt away, looking out at the sunset on the ride home, with the cool afternoon wind blasting my face through the open window. This album is all of that.

The greatest Christmas album I've ever heard.

The greatest live album I've ever heard.

If the Never Ending Story was set in a nightclub.

Sundown on Planet Italy, 1974.

The sound of having it all figured out for 40 minutes.

Night markets on a cool night in Brazil.

Waking up from anaesthesia in a field of daises.

Heaven.

Sublimely eccentric 80s left-field pop, Laurie Anderson meets Kate Bush and Martika.

You’re discretely in the corner for an hour on discovering your friend at a piano in an empty room in the theatre after the show, playing the finest wistful songs you’ve ever heard.

A group grounding in an enormous greenhouse when the temperature breaks and the cool summer afternoon breeze enters.

A devastating 1979 synth pop masterpiece.

A blistering wall of melodic guitar hooks and languid vocals that pull at the heartstrings.

Don’t sleep on this sublime Supergrass suite.

Start here, or try again some other time.

80s demos of the best 60s songs never written.

Past beliefs melt at dawn, eagerly awaiting your first espresso and a new day of lighter steps.

Post Sunday School disillusioned 70s folk with harmonies that will make you believe in the power of harmonies again.

A vaseline-lensed montage of the happiest times of your life when you time travelled to 1967 for a day.

Sounds like 1989 Syd Barrett with a Rickenbacker covering 1966 Dylan with 1967 George Martin strings.

Tropical nervous breakdown revelations.

A soundtrack for surviving suburbia.

Wash away the useless noise you’ve heard before with the beautiful noise you forgot about.

Making sense of what you can before sunrise.

Processing everything at the top of a lighthouse with digital gear and perfect afternoons.

Post-Woodstock love in a tidy Southern house. My favourite country record.

A hard season through a Super 8 camera.

Whiskey that doesn’t leave you wallowing.

The last great record of the 80s.

Record store hopping on a rainy day.

All your go-to books next to the bed in a record.

Soundtrack for a storm warning.

The blisteringly beautiful sound of surrendering to the chaos.

Nashville Skyline meets Sweetheart Of The Rodeo.

The Byrds do country better than country does country.

The strongest Yacht Rock album that exists, if you don’t count Steely Dan’s Aja.

The other Pet Sounds, there I said it.

A non-depresso solo espresso.

Sublime 70s psych folk artefact.