Roundup: Album of the Year 2014

Arriving fashionably late as ever, we’re kicking in your New Year’s bash retrospectively with a list of 30 albums that affected us the most over the past twelve months. There’s a decent variety we reckon, and we’ve even gone to the trouble of penning a little diatribe at the start. Enjoy, relax, read and imbibe, and we’ll be back soon with an announcement that will knock your new socks off.

We know, we know. You’ve already skim-read countless other Year End Lists and they’re all the same at heart; lots of scrolling past uncompressed album covers, words that drip with subtle, sanctimonious contempt toward some of the year’s easy targets, and of course a sly declaration of new classic status slipped into a bunch of safe ones. It’s a simple right of passage for any self-proclaimed ‘publication’, and a predictable must-have for the annual content cannon. So, to avoid misrepresenting our intentions, we’re no longer calling ours ‘Album of the Year‘, and instead we will simply review this most recent passing of the seasons with a recap of our keenest observations and heartiest recommendations. But yes, it’s still in order because we need a start and end point for our fuckin’ narrative.

But it gets us thinking about why these things garner such negative public reaction in the darker corners of the web (Facebook). These things really don’t tend to go down that well, but still, everyone feels the needs to have their say (us included). Snarky ridicule from artists who don’t want to be seen to be aligning with the man is more commonplace than you’d dare to imagine — ‘This journalist thinks we’re pretty cool, so I guess we can sleep tonight hurk hurk yak yak” — not to mention the backlash from the most intelligent music fans amongst us, y’know – “Where is X? Y is acid-jazz not post-punk revival. Z is the most overrated album by ‘the press’ since For Emma, Forever Ago“. I’m sure some of these critisisms are beyond justified – we’ve all seen some trulyshit lists – but there’s plenty like us who are music fans first, and ‘press scum’ second. Someone should point out that press exposure was probably the reason some of these chaps have more than 20 fans or something.

We’re aware at this point that we’re starting to sound bitter, but actually we’ve never received any such vitriol ourselves, but we have seen it happen to friends and we feel it’s more than a little off-base (and since we’re white knights with no comments section we thought we’d take this opportunity to have a pop). We suppose that this vitriol is the agreed price paid for forcing arbitrary rankings on a subjective field, but let’s not let that cloud what should be a celebration of some of the years finest music (based on the fraction of it that we’ve heard).

If you’ve scrolled down to here for a quick summary before you dig in to the good stuff, just bear this mind: If there’s an album on here that you’ve had your arm twisted on and are now in the process of illegally downloading it to give it a score out of ten, then we’ve done our job. Enjoy.

lydia-loveless-somewhere-else-500x500Lydia Loveless – Somewhere Else

This right here is my whole damn summer. I listened to Somewhere Else while cruising backroads in the night, going to see shitty movies, hanging outside of sports bars my adoption of birkenstocks (because socks are a cruel prison imposed on us by the Man) made me too embarrassed to enter. This despite actively disliking the middle track and getting a bit of a headache from the production, which tends to muddle all the electric guitars into a single, tinny mass. And that’s because Loveless’s songs are just too damn good to deny, from the boozy twang of “Wine Lips” to the acoustic belter “Everything’s Gone.” “Chris Isaak” proves the power of the “one-two-and-three-four” snare hit. Loveless hits the cheap seats with her voice and enjoys every snarled fffffuck she comes across. Let her do her thing and we’ll get a classic yet. –– Robert Rubsam

Listen to a track


odonis-odonis-hard-boiled-soft-boiledOdonis Odonis – Hard Boiled / Soft Boiled

As far as brash albums go, Hard Boiled Soft Boiled is unapologeticly heavy-handed as it makes its approach, full of pulsating percussion and densly layered synths that bob and weave underneath Dean Tzeno’s non-plussed madcap vocals as they speak dryly to colloquial social paradigms. But by the end, Tzeno reveals the hammer he’s waving is just an inflatable one; the rough edges blunt and the arms lower, revealing a fuzzy warmth that endears rather than rejects. What results is one of the years’ most fascinating electronic records, full of surpises, twists, turns and weird references to blowjobs. –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track


sandys-fourth-dementiaSandy’s – Fourth Dementia

Entirely pleasant and lofty on the surface, Fourth Dementia slowly and brilliantly reveals itself as some sort of seaside noir story, coupling the sunny sounds of shimmering guitar and marimba with shades-down, hair-slicked bravado. It’s as floaty and ambivalent as other beach-bred records, but the well-placed revelation reveals it all as sepia-toned yesteryear. The transformation is not so dissimilar to the washing out of sun-bleached colours, something you can see more in retrospect, and that re-purposing of surf rock sensibilities elevates Fourth Dementia past its counterparts. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


sturgill-simpson-sounds-in-country-musicSturgill Simpson – Metamodern Sounds in Country Music

Of all the albums I’ve really liked in 2014, I’ve spent the least time with Metamodern Sounds, yet almost feel most confident about including it here. Simultaneously a throwback and a lurch forward, Simpson generates comparisons to Waylon Jennings and then consciously fucks it all up. We get traditional honky-tonk country swaddled in psychedelic flange, the God and country talk we expect but muddled in doubt. I’m not going to paint Simpson as the poet some of his boosters make him out to be; there are a few too many lines about “the old man up in the sky” causing all the violence in the world, and in the otherwise fantastic “Turtles All the Way Down” he asks how “you can make illegal / something we all make in our brains,” which, just, come on. But the cumulative effect of Metamodern Sounds is to render almost all criticism of this sort moot. “Life of Sin” is a David Letterman-converting slab of countrified rock, while “The Promise” is a gut-punch of a ballad that Simpson belts without restraint. You never have an excuse to dismiss country music, but with Metamodern Sounds your argument just got a whole lot weaker. –– Robert Rubsam

Listen to a track


the-guru-pretty-thingsThe Guru – Pretty Things

Teetering on precarious scales of intricate, care-free math-rock and the oddly unnerving higher-purpose of ’60s surf-pop, Pretty Things is a stark admittance of youthful naivety; a love letter to the power of friendship over isolation and an exploration of how the simple things in life oft occupy our minds the most. It’s delightfully masterful in its execution too — there’s sunny Californian guitars aplenty, with a supporting cast of deft psychedelic licks and finger-clicking grooves that hypnotise your submissive appendages at will. It’s the fact that these guys are all in their early Twenties that’ll lean you back the most, though, because you wouldn’t guess it from their self-aware, wise-beyond-their-years disposition. –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track


cleft-boshCleft – BOSH!

With the cocksure swagger of a dashing, moustachioed 70s detective, Bosh! strides in, slams his size 11 on the desk and sends mountains of paperwork aflutter with naught but a rugged, manly wink. It’s the sort of album that’d unravel a wound-up librarian or other such stereotype in an instant, six parts braggadocious barbarism and half a dozen tweed trouser silliness. Cleft, pseudonym of two normal enough looking blokes from Manchester, know three things: how to be really loud, really fun, and really quite good at manipulating time signatures in order to amplify the intricacies of their audacious offerings. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


tigers-jaw-charmerTigers Jaw – Charmer

The dominant feeling drawn from Charmer is one of comfort. Each guitar crunch and subsequent croon echo the subdued wax and wane between calmness and tension, all crouched firmly behind a false front. It allows for Tigers Jaw to come across as disinterested in the face of distress. And for many, this comes across as mere boredom, but if you’re willing to delve deep enough there’s so much more to uncover in each song; a sadness at the core, a depression under the façade of uncaring. The music is beautiful as it limps along, forging out of the darkness and establishing a new norm for itself. And that strength in the face of adversity is, above all, comforting. If they can do it, so can we. –– Caleb Corpora

Listen to a track


braid-no-coastBraid – No Coast

There’s something to be said for lifelong band chemistry, and Braid‘s successful preservation and (surprising) enhancement of theirs some 16 long years after the acclaimed Frame & Canvas is a highly commendable achievement. They were playing together, sure, and it wasn’t a reunion that immediately bore such sweet fruit, but nonetheless, No Coast is the bands bounciest and catchiest release yet, one that manages to speak to the same generation that Frame inspired without feeling like a detached nostalgic cash-in. And, whist the themes are certainly more ‘adult’ – or simply wiser – No Coast sounds like Braid having more fun than they’ve ever had playing music together, and not the dragging heels of the jaded, middle-aged men they are on paper. –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track


spencer-radcliffe-and-r-l--kelly---brown-horseSpencer Radcliffe and R.L Kelly – Throw Me in the River

Brown Horse is an album of honesty, not only in terms of its frank subject matters of human and animal cruelty, adolescent naivety and loneliness, but also the barefaced hisses and white noise of home recording. Underneath that unvarnished surface is a cohesive split, rife with experimentation and minimalism – Spencer Radcliffe dishes out soft-spoken monologues laced with digital interference, R.L. Kelly cooing words of comfort, and the two combined make for an encompassing bubble of solace for waylaid youths to nestle into. It’s a split LP, but you won’t be able to see the divide – call it a fusion instead. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


hiss-golden-messenger_latenessofdancers_900pxHiss Golden Messenger – Lateness of Dancers

I’ve heard plenty of arguments against Lateness: that it’s too smooth, lacks drama, settles into its clichés. I acknowledge all those and raise you this: this is exactly what I love it. Hiss Golden Messenger has made a 70’s singer-songwriter record, firmly in the tradition of Van Morrison or Christian-period Dylan, but he’s made a damn good one, not without its own strange tics. There is no stunt songwriting here, no old-timey hoedowns or wordless ‘woah-oh-oh’ choruses. Even at its catchiest, the record doesn’t cram anything down your throat. My favorite songs are all the slow ones, from the title track to‘Chapter & Verse (Ione’s Song)’, a simple ballad with a humming synthesizer peeking out from the backdrop. ‘Mahogany Dread’ spends more time on a fantastic organ solo than it does on a chorus. And ‘Saturday’s Song’, the clearest throwback of the bunch, glows in its rich arrangement, classic rock but not in any nostalgist’s sense. Now how often can you say that? –– Robert Rubsam

Listen to a track


have-a-nice-life-the-unnatural-worldHave a Nice Life – The Unnatural World

Whilst it doesn’t pack the sheer contextual punch that the staggering Deathconciousnessdid back in 2008, The Unnatural World is, in its own cloaked disposition, a more refined and cerebral attack on your senses. Its main weapon of choice are the suffocating, monolithic mid-tempo rhythms by which the chanting post-punk booms and knife-wielding institutional samples form their dark congression, and the dead-eyed vocals that muddle around in the claustrophobic labyrinth of dripping tunnels are a constant source of sonic anxiety. It rattles along in heavy air, with its clever use of distant echoes, knocks, knacks and taps reminding you just how far away you are from the light. –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track


punching-swans-molluscPunching Swans – Mollusc

At the helm of a blossoming local scene devoted to making as much of a racket as is possible within the realms of our three dimensions, Punching Swans stand proudly and resolutely, their jaws perpetually locked open to allow for the violent expulsions of hot noise. Mollusc is an eclectic menagerie of illicit imagery, a chicken coop with a fox chucked in and the doors locked. Rounding it off, though, is the clever interjections of genuine, complete thoughts and rule-adherence. Much of the album might be feverishly sprinting through the goings on of a mad man’s mind, but that man is actually rather collected on the surface. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


trophy-scars-holy-vacantsTrophy Scars – Holy Vacants

For all of Holy Vacants ambitious quirks and the heady expectations it had going in, it’s surprising that it’s the sheer simplicity of it all that shines brightest. Like, whilst they still possess those jazzy, intricate leans that we’ve come to expect, it’s the subtle deviations towards the straightforward that supply the structure, and with it, the lifeblood. ‘Burning Mirror‘ and ‘Qeres‘ still go hard in the paint, but it’s the moments of restraint – the soaring bridge of ‘Everything Disappearing’ or the calming guitar plucks on ‘Nyctophobia’ – where the album is at its most memorable. Through and through this is undeniably a Trophy Scars record, but it stands apart by being willing to try new things without sacrificing their core. –– Caleb Corpora

Listen to a track



cymbals_eat_guitarsCymbals Eat Guitars – 
LOSE

LOSE is an album built entirely on one emotion. That’s not to say it’s a shallow album, far from it in fact, but rather that it takes that sole emotion, loss, and explores every crack and crevice within its meaning.  It embraces it, discards it, flips it upside down, and runs away. That’s the beauty of LOSE, really, how well it expresses the different phases of how we deal with upheaval within our lives. Each idea is noticeably different too, displayed with a kitchen sink of influences and ideas. Cymbals Eat Guitars took the bare essence of heartache and broke it down, reassembled it, and made it palatable.LOSE may have a tunnel-visioned centerpiece, but the end result is anything but. –– Caleb Corpora

Listen to a track


ben-howard-we-forgot-coverBen Howard – I Forget Where We Were

When I look at the brooding figure of Ben Howard that adorns the artwork for I Forget Where We Were, It’s hard not to be reminded of Alfred Hitchcock‘s landmark use of shadow in Psycho, where a fresh-faced Norman Bates stands monstrously over the swamp having just diced up and sank our hero in quicksand, an artistic reference to imply schizophrenia. This is not to say that Howard is a murderer or suffers from such an ailment, but there’s an undeniably serious message that he’s trying to portray here – and it manifests as a serious of haunted, slow-burning rambles that edge towards their muted conclusions with little fanfare besides his weeping acoustic picking. It’s altogether muddier, and almost completely forgoes the ‘get-up-and-go’ positivity that made his award-winning debut Every Kingdom such a polarising release. In many ways, it’s his own personal antithesis. –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track


grouper-ruins-cover-artGrouper – Ruins

From a music critic point of view, Ruins feels like a progression for Liz Harris, who records as Grouper, but there’s a false sense of development, of narrative, in that. This spare, nearly empty record was recorded in 2012, the same year as Harris’s abstract AIArecords. So it is less a step out of the murk and more a state of mind, an aural manifestation of Harris’s immediate surroundings. So she provides us with little to muddy them, leaving cricket chirps, power outages, wind in these songs, sometimes sitting at an equal volume with her vocals and piano, which, by design, blend together as well. Yet even if Ruins is quiet, it is also oppressive, not just in it sadness or its beauty, but in the way it impacts whatever situation it plays during. I put it on my headphones and wandered central Galway today, the Christmas lights and tourists abstracted into shuffling, foreign bodies by the songs. Not until Ruins ends does the spell lift. –– Robert Rubsam

Listen to a track


james-joys-peter-devlin-devil-repentJames Joys & Peter Devlin – Devil, Repent!

It’s the dark, sobering pulse of Devil, Repent! that makes it so deeply enjoyable, in a curious use of the word. Born from the miseries brought about by the crippling of Catholicism and the exploitation of religion for personal gain and harrowing cover-ups, the sparse beats of James Joys marry well with the stricken vocals of Peter Devlin. Both were raised in and turned white by that stifled society, and it adds a shivering ache to the burdened crunches and snaps that inhabit the LP. When it never reaches a rounded conclusion, the nature of the problem is shown all too uncomfortably as endless, and to capture that sense of helplessness is a bitter-sweet triumph. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


run-the-jewels-2Run The Jewels – Run The Jewels 2

Can you feel that? That’s the ground shaking as Killer Mike and El-P ride an elephant through your house, teabag your fish tank, and fornicate with your mother. It’s hard to completely wrap your mind around what has made the Run the Jewels tandem into such a cultural phenomenon, with their abrasive, pulsating beats and their over-the-top braggadocio making for the epitome of everything the mainstream hates in hip-hop. Yet somehow we’re here, with the two middle aged rappers leading a punk revolution. They’ve taken the strengths of the first outing and supersized them, expanded the beats to seismic levels and made their rhyme schemes all the more jaw dropping. If you can keep your head about you in this cataclysmic barrage of profanity and belittling, you might not be the fuck boy you were destined to be. –– Caleb Corpora

Listen to a track


minot-equal-opposite-reviewMinot – Equal/Opposite

Thankfully, there’s a lot less carbon copy post-rock clogging up the release schedule this year, with Explosions imitators finally being given short shrift by a community dying to hear something other than bands going through the motions with their soulless crescendos and minor key arpeggios. Fortunately, bands like VASQUEZ, Mogwai (still) and now American newcomers Minot are putting the fun back into a genre that has garnered a bit of a reputation for being boring. Equal/Opposite drives forth with intensity and vigour, bolstered by booming bass lines and futuristic Blade Runner beats. It’s instrumental music for the burned out, and put it through a speaker system with enough juice and the raw energy will have your floor bouncing and your brain melting. –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track


the-hotelier-album-cover-600x600The Hotelier – Home, Like Noplace is There

Full of grief and stories of personal Loss, Home, Like Noplace is There is a modern emo-punk masterpiece that brazenly serves as a platform for The Hotelier‘s greatest fears whilst still making you pump your fist as much as Stay What You Are did. It’s instrumentally decisive too; each eager riff and punchy kick drum framing Christian Holden’s full-throttle vocal outpours in defiant unison and impassioned fervour. No, it doesn’t deserve to be the latest poster boy for the next ill-judged ’emo revival’ feature somebody decides to write but it will be, and that’s a shame, because there’s so much more to this record –– namely the maintenance of hope through action –– than whether or not it’s part of some ‘wave’ or not.  –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track


low-roar-0Low Roar – 0

There’s a fragility to Ryan Karazija’s voice that makes 0 such a welcoming record. Cold as you would expect from an Icelander, it sits in clouds of chilled breath as insignificant portions of one’s self, a fleeting expenditure that fades as quickly as it’s created. It’s quietly a concept album, a gathering of thoughts externalised too late, parcelled regrets set onto the water’s surface. There’s a lingering sense of it being cyclical, where overlaid vocals sound like past iterations and where indecision is rampant – it hints at mistakes being repeated but consciously dealt with, affirming the old adage that it matters not how many times you’re knocked down, but how many times you get back up. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


wye-oak-shriek-album-coverWye Oak – Shriek

Shriek surprised me in so many ways. In fact, it still continues to. I didn’t expect to like it at all, was lukewarm on the singles, and yet couldn’t stop listening once I had the whole thing. The real star here is Jenn Wasner’s remarkably pliable vocals, twisting syllables and melodies into lines that push the limits of what can be considered catchy. There’s some R&B, some indie rock, and a whole lot of genre-pushing pop in these songs, part Miguel and part Kate Bush. But these are just the things that leap out to you on the first 40-plus listens. Putting Shriek on today, I mostly focused on the fringes, the synth burbles and delay tics, the insistent, metronomic percussion, the bass drones. As much as this is a pop album it is undeniably an experimental one, allowing drummer/producer/multi-instrumentalist Andy Stack to go to far more abstract places than he ever had before, at least on a Wye Oak record. Shriek has a meditative quality, perfect for writing or walking. When the vocals don’t pull you in, that is. Damn it, it’s just great. –– Robert Rubsam

Listen to a track


the-war-on-drugs-lost-in-the-dream-608x608The War on Drugs – Lost in the Dream

A quick glance at Lost in the Dream’s dusty artwork reveals a great deal about Adam Granduciel during its recording. Here he is, arms resolutely folded and slightly out of focus, contemplating his sense of place with only a thin veil of material to block out the bleak, blinding glare of the outside world. These sentiments are the bedrock of the record, yet unlike Slave Ambient, they manifest as uplifting, shuffling melodies that borrow the best parts of ’80s Americana and wrap them in a hypnotic glow fit for stages of any size. It is an expansive, heart-warming take on struggle, one that encourages you to rally alongside Granduciel as a fellow muddler rather than empathise as a mere observer. –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track


sinai-vessell-profanitySinai Vessel – Profanity

For as short as Profanity is, it’s as resplendent and rewarding as any other record you’ll have listened to over the year. Keenly literary, Caleb Cordes has written a handful of clever tracks that deviate slightly from the norms of emo – instead of vague ideals and easy-to-identify-with quips, it favours the lustre of verse and prose to present the fervent ideologies of wandering youth. Whether it’s the complications of growing up or the influence of religion on rotten minds, Sinai Vessel know how to present their ailments with earnest, staying instrumentation, and the glean of an honourable ethos. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


kishi-bashi-lighghtKishi Bashi – Lighght

You don’t fully comprehend the scope of the success that Kishi Bashi accomplished here until you witness him perform. The layers, the crescendos, the pitch switches; they’re all at the fingertips of one man.  Each song is built from the ground up on his violin loops, each more sophisticated then the last.  And it’s disorienting, the cascades and flourishes meld together far above the sum of their parts, albeit in dance-pop, indie, or progressive rock form. “The Ballad of Mr. Steak” is exuberant fun and ‘Carry on, Phenomenon’s taut structure proves strong enough to hold the most grin inducing rock song of the year. Ishibashi is a virtuoso on his violin strings, but his true strengths lie within his songcraft. –– Caleb Corpora

Listen to a track


the-mary-onettes-porticoThe Mary Onettes – Throw Me in the River

You could never sleight The Mary Onettes for being stuck in the past, or over-ready to rekindle the warmth of 80s new wave pop balladry. Though their catalogue is decidedly inspired by that period, they’ve always done their best to enhance everything so that it isn’t just nostalgia for the sake of it. With Portico, they’ve mustered a heady balance of old and new, sticking with the catchy and imperial sounds of yore whilst stirring in production tricks and passages of energy. It’s the sound of a time that relished in the notion of ‘hits’, expanded upon for the wholeness afforded by a start-to-finish record. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


zookeeper-pink-chalkZookeeper – Pink Chalk

As Zookeeper, Chris Simpson has created something profoundly insightful and musically dextrous, boasting an impressive manipulation of negative space and a refusal to pretty up the blemishes of production. The important thing to consider with Pink Chalk is not that it’s come from the same man who fronts Mineral – as emphatically good and vital as that band is, what should instead be spotlighted is the craftsmanship of the individual – but by all means, put them side by side and take note of the similarities and differences. Simpson has always been an acute lyricist, but this time round they’re front and centre, delivered to the face rather than to a closed door. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


henrietta-the-trick-is-not-mindingHenrietta – The Trick is Not Minding

If you’re in the market for an indie rock record that pulls no punches without ever feeling dogmatic, then The Trick is Not Minding should be right at the top of your shopping list. Impassioned frontman Manny Urdaneta wears his heart firmly on his rolled-up sleeve throughout; his wonderful range pushed to breaking point as he sings his full-throated tales of woe and confusion. He needs to because of how fervent his bandmates are; no chord is indifferent to the cause, and Colin Czerwiński’s percussion hits like a ton of bricks in earnest encouragement. I’m constantly reminded of Thrice, not just because of the similarities in musical arrangement, but because there’s feeling and meaning behind every word. Perhaps that’s the real trick.   –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track


smith-street-band-throw-me-in-the-riverThe Smith Street Band – Throw Me in the River

I don’t know how Wil Wagner does it. Here I am, spent as far as writing about The Smith Street Band, struggling to find yet more words to acutely summarise my feelings towards them, and there’s Wagner writing banger after banger about all the shit he’s been juggling without losing a single step. What’s more, it still feels completely unforged, shaped from specifics instead of conjured from nothing. From what I can tell, those blokes are revered in their neck of the woods, and it won’t be long until the same can be said the world over. Throw Me In The River has taken everything great about them – the no-holds-barred honesty of the lyrics, the body-flailing, incendiary nature of the instrumentation – and beaten them bloody, proudly wearing the carcass as a symbol of conquest. –– Ashley Collins

Listen to a track


doomsquad-kalaboogieDoomsquad – Kalaboogie

Only a handful of records channel the natural wax and wane of our world quite as exquisitely as Doomsquad’s Kalaboogie, and even fewer match its enthralling and organic sense of place. It really is a record to get lost in –– the sheer number of styles, influences and techniques co-existing at any given time is reminiscent of Eno’s work –– but there’s also space to breathe should you consciously decide to. Choose to explore, however, and you’ll find looping afro-beat rhythms playing host to all manner of homogenous noises, creating this vacuum of spiritual enchantment that encourages you to find meaning in the dizzying, hypnotic patterns that electrify this digital jungle. Doomsquad’s biggest achievement, though, is that they’ve created an electronic album that dares to physically touch your senses, and there are moments when it genuinly does.   –– Isaac Powell

Listen to a track

Isaac Powell
Follow Isaac

Isaac Powell

Isaac is Editor-in-Chief of Noted, and prefers his music loud and steaks rare. Lives and writes in Nottingham, England.
Isaac Powell
Follow Isaac

Latest posts by Isaac Powell (see all)