I saw a pigeon wearing a tiny top hat yesterday. It has absolutely nothing to do with Rich Allen's new single, "No Pinks", but, honestly, what does? The song unravels like a worn photograph, the edges blurry with regret, a silent conversation shouted in the spaces between plucked guitar strings. Allen, known around Tampa for his poignant songwriting, digs deep, like a fossil hunter...

Geoff Westen’s album, “Music For My Friends”, thumps onto the scene like a dropped box of heavy disco balls – all shiny potential energy and the slight threat of chaos. It aims for that classic pop song euphoria, the kind designed to rattle car speakers and fuel late-night dance floors, an "aural assault" as Westen puts it. And it does pulse with energy, a...