‘Past // Present // Future’ does what it says on the tin in a masterful way, melding the influences of the past into something that sounds shiny and modern, and achieving the rare feat of making pop punk still sound distinctive.

They aren’t going to be for everyone - and this might not be a record that converts new fans in their droves - but pre-existing fans should be happy.

On ‘Radical Romantics’, Fever Ray posits the idea of love as an imperative condition for human function, and probes into both its darkest corners as well as the simple, mortal desire for affection, producing a fascinating study of electro-pop in the meantime.

slowthai’s newest is the work of an artist clearly more excited than ever about what he himself can do now he’s booted his own doors wide open. ‘UGLY’ is a beautiful thing to behold.

Ultimately, Kali’s intention to create a timeless album about love is met with expected ease.

The maximalist production on show is boundless, and in turn, is a celebration of daine’s spiritual transformation.

Agut-wrenching yet joyous journey into the thick of her every feeling, with neither sugar-coating or shame. It’s a walk on a tightrope, balanced precariously between a downward spiralling cascade of thought.

The richness of its sounds is what makes ‘Strange Dance’ a warmly familiar, if not entirely compelling listen.

‘Food For Worms’ bulges with high-octane surprise. This is the sound of a band performing at the peak of their powers.

‘Cracker Island’ is very much a set piece that prioritises concept and narrative, resulting in one of Gorillaz’s most restrained, contemplative releases yet - one that will perhaps appeal to fans of Albarn’s solo work more than devotees of his monkeys’ more genre-hopping forays.

Like a pop phoenix rising from 2011’s ashes, ‘Let Her Burn’ is Rebecca Black showing us just what she’s capable of.

It’s eerie, it’s weird, and maybe a tad too long (it could still perhaps work as a three-minute interlude or similar) but regardless, it still somehow manages to feel like Pigs x7 while offering a welcome change. By its last quarter, ‘Land of Sleeper’ feels like it’s said all it can.

It embraces the unconventional with resounding ease, finding its voice in the skilled hands of two of pop’s most forward-thinking pioneers, both busy rethinking just what it can be.

Where ‘SUCKAPUNCH’ was a bold move to reforge their identity and rejuvenate their dedication for the band, it’s with ‘Truth Decay’ that they seem to have found their sweet spot.

‘This Is Why’ is a blistering melding pot of artistry.

It’s cleverly written and produced too, with motifs (both sonic and lyrical) seeping from one track to the other. In all, this makes ‘Raven’ completely alluring, and offers a soundtrack for melancholic late-night drives through buzzing cities.

‘Breaking…’ offers up a feast of exuberance, standout track ‘Riots and Jokes’ musically epitomising the album’s forward-charging freedoms, and neatly sums up Quasi’s modus operandi there in its very title.

A curious collection of contrasts. Most notably, that between the protagonists’ own voices. ... That said, the duo know when to complement each other, too.

With the emotionally charged beats of ‘Black Mascara’, the candour of ‘Body Dysmorphia’ and the unfiltered soul of ‘Buss It Down’, it would be impossible for anyone to sleep on RAYE anymore.

Unique, raw and totally joyous.

Sam’s latest finds them exploring self-acceptance and self-growth across their now-classic style of soul-tinged pop. ... While ’Unholy’’s catchy melodies may be elsewhere untouchable, it breaks down the boundaries of topics to explore throughout the rest of ‘Gloria’.

A bright and inviting pop album that brilliantly captures the emotional snapshots of life.

There are whispers of similarity to her queer contemporaries, too, from Shura (’Pandora’s Box’) to Years & Years (’Nightingale’), that make this break-up record much more exciting than its conveyor belt competition.

‘Lifetime’ remains one of the album’s strongest pursuits; lovestruck and introspective, each beat keenly felt. The album revels in this on a whole; a lovelorn sheen which dances between interludes. It’s less dancefloor filler, more earnest confessions and professions of absolute adoration.

This one does find itself running out of steam a little towards its conclusion without enough robust new ideas. For the most part, though, this bold experiment pays off, and Fucked Up can be admired for their ambition as much as they can for their enviable productivity.

Energetic, furious and deeply lamentful, perhaps the main achievement here is how Italia 90 so forwardly address a near fifty-year old cultural heritage which so many depend on yet take for granted.

The mixtape allows space for this experimentation, jumping from one emotion to the next, yet finds consistency in Biig Piig’s inability to stand still.

Dave’s voice holds up well throughout, showing vulnerability. It makes for an exciting, experimental, laid back 11 tracks, and we can only hope this isn’t the last solo work from him.