The pilgrimage that’s led The Holy Innocents to their debut album, Letter To The Lone Ridge, has been of the long miles and bloody feet variety. The band have manifested in different forms over the years – appearing initially like a jittery North Antrim Modern Lovers, before mutating into a crew of Big Pink squatters and then, just as quickly, striking a louche Tindersticks pose – but amid the personnel changes (Arborist Mark McCambridge was a long-term member before going solo), scuppered campaigns, and delayed offensives – there have retained some significant constants. From their earliest EPs, the band have wasted little time denying their debt to Bob, The Band, Van, Johnny and Leonard. Nor have they sought to expunge the convictions and character of their frontman, Eamonn McNamee, from the record. Which means that, to anyone who has walked a distance with them over the years, Lone Ridge will feel nothing like an introduction: it’s more a welcome re-acquaintance. For anyone who hasn’t met them yet: rest assured – they’re top, top company when the going is less than great.

Given the industry shenanigans that almost did for them, the continued existence of The Answer is reward enough for their fans. That Cormac and co have – despite considerable cross-winds – managed to release an album, New Horizon, is surely added joy. Given how events have panned out, the upcoming tour from this much-lauded live band should be interesting: they’ll be playing, after all, like they’ve come back from the dead.
As will Jetplane Landing. Six years after Backlash Cop, the Derry four-piece have a new record, Don’t Try, ready, and the break seems to have worked some magic: It’s by some way their best collection of songs since debut, Zero For Conduct. As always with this crowd it’s conducted at an edgy, politicised, and stirringly evangelical pitch. Prepare for take-off. Again.
The last time Ewan Gordon crossed our path, he was reconfiguring old sea shanties into interesting shapes as a member of The Salt Flats. If that project suggested Ewan’s love of a good intellectual concept was as strong as his love of a decent tune, then Coney Island Sound, his latest – shows that struggle to remain happily in full, productive swing. That said, while there’s a serious discussion to be had about the blend of forms and cultural impulses present in Klang!, spend some time with the album, though, and it’s the last thing you’ll want to focus on. There's some glorious stuff on here – most of it (especially opener, ‘Introducing Mr Kellog’ and the dizzy-making ‘The Lemonade Song’) shamelessly, giddily, joyous.
Time again to mention Kowlaski’s For The Love Of Letting Go. A lovely paean to first love, heart break and languid, North Down summers. Their (literal) kinship with Two Door Cinema Club has maybe proven an obscuring factor as they’ve gone about establishing their own pitch, but, as all debut albums should, they now have a rousing calling card, that will stand them well in what should be a long and diverting journey.