NUMB ANGEL

Lewis Taylor was a contender, hailed by the critics and name-dropped by everyone from Paul Weller to Elton John. Following attempts to sell him as a soul boy when he was more a UK Tame Impala - less Acid Jazz than acid and jazz he made a few dazzling records, then disappeared. Rumours circulated that he'd absented himself from social media and the music industry in general and was living as a recluse. But, after nearly two decades away, he's released a new album, NUMB, which shows him in as rude vocal and compositional health as ever, and finally ready to explain where he's been. It's madness: Matt Phillips

- Matt Phillips

Andrew Lewis Taylor has never troubled the BRIT, MOBO or Grammy awards, never had a Top 40 single or album but, along with Amy Winehouse and Adele, he may be the most musically talented British solo artist of the last 30 years. Over six studio albums, Taylor's work has embraced neo-soul, old-school R&B, prog, psych and yacht rock, influenced legions of blue-eyed-soul wannabes and been publicly lauded by David Bowie, Aaliyah, Paul Weller, Amy Winehouse, Leon Ware, Elton John, D'Angelo and Daryl Hall.

But Taylor is also one of the most complex characters to emerge from the homegrown music scene, fascinated with "art born of a disintegrated mind" and peppering interviews with pointed references to mental illness, drug use, and reclusion. For a while it looked like he might even succumb to the sort of issues that affected his heroes, Syd Barrett and Brian Wilson. Barring a few reissues and one-off collaborations, he essentially ceased to exist as a solo artist between 2006 and 2022 - until a remarkable, completely unexpected comeback with last year's NUMB.

But let's back up a bit. Taylor's classic self-titled debut album dropped on Island Records in 1996 and stunned industry cognoscenti. This ex-greengrocer from Barnet sang a bit like Marvin, played guitar like Ernie Isley, bass like James Jamerson and keyboards like Billy Preston, and created his extraordinary angst-ridden compositions in a North London flat on two digital reel-to-reel tape machines.