By Fiona Shepherd

Published 18th Jan 2024, 11:53 BST

Green Day: Saviors (Reprise Records) ***

Gruff Rhys: Sadness Sets Me Free (Rough Trade Records) ****

Future Islands: People Who Aren’t There Anymore (4AD) ***

Green Day’s 14th studio album arrives at a propitious time for those who appreciate a landmark anniversary – 30 years since the release of their breakthrough album Dookie and 20 since the all-conquering American Idiot. Saviors mines the best of those worlds – the dumb punk glee of the former and the agit-rock anger of the latter – in the company of producer Rob Cavallo, who worked on both and does a sterling job of playing to those strengths with a perky, pacey set of tunes and a blizzard of social, political and cultural references.

Opening track The American Dream Is Killing Me lifts quotes from America the Beautiful and The New Colossus and spins on Devo with the lyric “we are not home, are we not home?” to create a breezy, infectious protest power rocker, while the impish, satirical Look Ma No Brains! takes its lead from Sam Cooke to conclude “don’t know much about history – cos I never learned how to read” – a simple indictment which says much about any society, let alone the United States.

The trio invoke the spunky spirit of Ramones and The Clash on 1981 and even allude to their own back catalogue on the belligerent yet plaintive Dilemma, with an opening line “welcome to my problems, it’s not an invitation” which harks back to their own “do you have the time to listen to me whine?” from Basket Case. Thirty years older but still with much to figure out, Billie Joe Armstrong remains a confused and empathetic chronicler of the human condition.

Elsewhere, the Nirvana-referencing bubblegum rocker Fancy Sauce finds him watching the evening news “cos it’s my favourite cartoon”, Coma City takes a sly dig at Musk, Bezos and the egomania of extreme wealth, the title track asks “won’t somebody save us tonight?” as it invokes Oasis down to its glam rock foundations and Life in the ’20s, taking its lead from Killing Joke’s Eighties, is darker, punkier, angrier as it decries “another shooting in a supermarket”.

There are carefree vignettes too. Corvette Summer – as retro as the title suggests – offers more Cheap Tricks, Suzie Chapstick is prime melodic New Wave and Bobby Sox revels in a snotty grunge pop chorus while the slower numbers such as Goodnight Adeline and lush ballad Father to a Son boast strong hooks, the latter lifted straight from American Idiot’s Wake Me Up When September Ends with added guitar bombast and sweeping strings.

Former Super Furry Animals frontman Gruff Rhys optimises his strategy for “shedding some light on sadness and the general terror of cosmic loneliness” on his consistently delightful new album Sadness Sets Me Free via the medium of whimsical Lee Hazlewood-style country folk, floaty retro backing vocals and lavish strings – and that’s just the opening title track, which changes pace to become a soused country waltz in the last 90 seconds.

Like Green Day, Rhys has a knack of addressing heavy subject matter with musical levity. The bossa nova-tinged They Sold My Home To Build A Skyscraper is a property speculation protest in the form of an easy listening handjive, Cover Up the Cover Up is a seductive lullaby, with Rhys sighing persuasively “reinvent the government… overthrow the monarchy” and I Tendered My Resignation is an equally wistful and beguiling satirical homage to “when doing the right thing isn’t doing the right thing”.

Baltimore quartet Future Islands have reined in some of singer Samuel T Herring’s quirkier excesses to mere superfluous breathiness on their seventh album of sleek electro pop, so much so that the key musical feature is now Gerrit Welmers’ seductive array of analogue synth tones – twinkling on The Tower, glacial on Deep In The Night, elegant on Iris and epic on The Sickness.

CLASSICAL

Schubert - Lieder: Love’s Lasting Power (Delphian) ****

For Schubert, “love’s lasting power” was likely a complex concept, given his propensity for a good time – syphilis was to strike him down young. If anything, it’s the intensity of his affections that matters when it comes to appreciating his music, particularly those Lieder that deal with love in its many manifestations. That’s the potent motivation behind a collection of songs neatly packaged by soprano Harriet Burns and pianist Ian Tindale to explore the title theme. Most are short, ranging from the bittersweet, major-minor duality of Lachen und Weinen and soft-scented sighs of Dass Sie Hier Gewesen, to the whirlwind sensuality of Versunken and darkly dramatic Der Zwerg. On a more epic scale, Viola – written in troubled times – is a restless torrent of shifting emotions. Burns and Tindale bring soulfulness and fervour to a glowing, inspired programme. Ken Walton

FOLK

Gillian Fleetwood: Together With Yourself at Sea Level (Own Label) ****

Harpist Gillian Fleetwood transcends illness and other challenges with this strikingly textured tableau of a debut solo album. Recording in Arbroath’s Hospitalfield arts centre, she plays its venerable Erard Grecian harp as well as clarsach, joined by fiddler Laura Wilkie, cellist Suz Appelbe, brass player Mikey Owers and others, while producer C Duncan adds bass, viola and assorted sound-shaping. The wonderfully sonorous growling of Owers’s bass trombone adds distinctive contrast with the harp and elegant string playing in numbers such as Drawing Room or the near-orchestral sounding title track. There are beguiling harp moments such as The Shell Grows, with its Debussy-esque impressionism, while occasional, pensive songs from Fleetwood include the spookily reproachful Cedar. There’s a dramatic, piobaireachd-like opening to Cold Water with its snarling drums and electric guitar howls, and lovely, empathetic fiddle against the sea drift of John McLeod’s Marching Past. Jim Gilchrist

Album reviews: Green Day | Gruff Rhys | Future Islands