In sound, it sits somewhere between the sparse nature of ‘folklore’ and the overt pop of ‘Midnights’, across its two hours settling into a steady pace that forgoes massive fan favourites in favour of a continuous pull on the heartstrings. The issue with a two-hour album is that you’re not going to hit the mark on every track (no song should have three exclamation marks in the title), and it’s tricky to keep momentum when the name of the game is introspective storytelling.

The jazz-imbued one-two of ‘Light As Grass’ and ‘Could You Help Me’ gives the record a rich introduction, while ‘Sail Away’ descends into a heady, dance-tinged mist; by the time the funky gratitude of ‘The Racket’ closes proceedings (“I won’t let you bring me down”), it’s hard not to be in awe of the scale of her growth and transformation in every sense of the word.

In doubling down on her niche - that is, artsy Scandi-indie-pop - ’I’M DOING IT AGAIN BABY!’ is girl in red at her most realised.

Perhaps best of all is how direct the whole thing is, typified by ‘Glass Eye’, on which the outfit’s uncompromising sound brings sonic clarity while sporadic backing vocals offer classic ‘90s boyband echoes. A solid record.

‘Abomination’ is a singular debut and quintessential cultural capsule - of both post-post-punk and gay modernity - from one of the UK’s most fearless off-piste queer acts.

The picture it paints as a whole is a hugely rich one - not just of the album itself, but of English Teacher as the opposite of a flash-in-the-pan buzz band; as a group really only just getting started.

Now, the scuzz and rough edges of their younger selves is swapped out for the fizz and crackle of these vital reworkings, which take in some of their most varied sounds to date; in amongst the usual post-punk vigour are hints of shoegaze, psychedelia and - on the standout ‘Major Amberson’ - melodic pop.

There’s a slight irony in the fact that an album so jam-packed is entitled ‘Silence Is Loud’, but the remarkable feat of Nia Archives’ debut is that it somehow never feels too much or too choppy; for all its referential nods and sonic variation, this is still a project that is cohesively, distinctly her.

‘Don’t Forget Me’ is the sound of an artist finally beginning to sink cosily into her own skin, and enjoying herself enormously in the process.

‘Found Heaven’ does, at times, feel a bit like you could play ‘iconic ‘80s songs’ bingo. .... But, when his influences are worn as heart-on-sleeve as they are here – and, crucially, are executed as well – the overall effect is one of knowing homage rather than tribute act.

A luscious album that sees the singer shrug off the pressures of present day virality in favour of creating something much more classic.

While better executed at certain points than others, the band’s varied selection of instrumental textures remains a defining feature; from the riff-driven frenzy of ‘Talking Radiance’ to the minimalist, piano-led touch of ‘Venus’, there’s an inharmonious harmony that pervades.

Bob Vylan still have a lot to be furious about, but ‘Humble As The Sun’ is a winning exercise in shifting focus; after all, as the old saying goes, the best revenge is living well.

There’s an altogether calmer atmosphere on display here, that in its beauty forgoes some of the immediacy that characterised her earlier catalogue’s stand-out moments.

Because ‘You’ll Pay’, ‘Read Em And Weep’, ‘Only Love’, ‘Fever Tree’ (a charming cover of William Bell’s ‘I Forgot To Be Your Lover’), and ‘Don’t Let Me Go’ are all peppered with a shimmering strut, and the kind of euphoria that’s surely only a well-filmed choreo sequence away from the kind of virality enjoyed by Jungle of late. And this is a lane that fits The Black Keys like a glove.

So, taking all the wide-eyed playfulness of their earlier work, and the confidence in creating a sonic tapestry of their latter, ‘Only God Was Above Us’ is both their most accomplished and most Vampire Weekend album yet.

Even the weakest Libs composition is a standard many British songwriters can only aspire to, to this day. If nothing else, it’s heartwarming that the story is still unfolding for the Likely Lads.

By opening up their songwriting process, the band have managed to carve out an even more singular sound. The possibilities from here seem endless.

A well-rounded collection of songs, ‘Girlfriend Material’ shows Lauren as an artist coming into her own, and her enjoyment shines through in her music.

Brave in its deeply honest expression, it’s a beautiful record that tactfully captures the often confusing and contradicting feelings when truly in love.

‘Real Power’ sits around the mid-tempo rather than going hell for leather as they may have done in younger years. Far from a slip into the middle of the road however, they find new ways to make it interesting.

More than anything, ‘Tigers Blood’ is a refinement of the blueprint laid down by ‘Saint Cloud’, and a showcase of Katie at the peak of her powers.

A post-break-up sexual revolution decorated with metaphor and sonic experimentation, that’s both dizzyingly unique and creatively assertive, this is a comeback that demands accolade.

Sitting somewhere between say Beyoncé’s auteur-like use of collaborators on ‘Lemonade’ and how Grimes’ ‘Art Angels’ saw the contrary Canadian flex shimmering, glossy pop nous, ‘Caprisongs’ has twigs throwing out hooks left, right and centre.

Steeped in blissful American nostalgia, Bleachers’ sublime self-titled fourth studio album embodies it all, from the rolling vistas to the warmth of distant city lights, at once watching the world pass by and deeply cemented in a moment. It’s rare for an album to capture a feeling so intensely, promoting a universal recognition through something so intrinsically linked to an individual’s time and place.

Between the excitement of the new on ‘Glasgow Eyes’ and the presence of the more classic, indie rock side of the band on tracks like ‘The Eagles and The Beatles’, the band appear to have tapped into a rich new vein of songwriting form. On this evidence, here’s to the next forty.

By the album’s end - thanks, in part, to the droning noise and scuffed beats on closer ‘Dream Dollar’ - there’s a definite sense of the walls closing in. Here the distance Kim Gordon has forged, both across the album and throughout her career, is falling away - and the gap between music and art seems smaller than ever.

An intriguing side project that adds to the pair’s already storied careers.

There’s a fine line between using a formula and sticking to it, and it’s the smart way in which Sheer Mag do the former that makes ‘Playing Favorites’ so enthralling.

While it does see Faye and her band at their most musically warm and open - nearly every track is a devastating beauty - lyrically she feels more closed off than ever before.

‘Half Divorced’ is a bolshy barrage played out over the course of 12 short, sharp tracks.

The band’s most concise sound yet whilst never taking itself too seriously, as Mannequin Pussy continue to dominate a world of their own creation.

An album that continues the quartet’s knack for pairing potent socio-political commentary with delicious pop nous.

‘Where’s My Utopia?’ is as much a joy intellectually as it is musically, a leap in the right direction from one of our most promising groups of the day.

Ghetts secured his place in the conversation around the greatest UK rappers years ago; ‘On Purpose, With Purpose’ sets the bar higher once again.

‘Club Shy’ is staple Shygirl, re-packaged, pre-remixed, pre-prepared for the club: a dose of thumping post-midnight trance, a playful extension of self with all the irreverence, at her creative high.

This solitary endeavour - which she describes as sitting in front of a mirror and staring at herself - results in near-complete reinvention, all while retaining melodic guts and expanding the malleability of her misfit artistry.

Having been better recognised as a key member of Wild Flag and Ex Hex in recent years, Mary Timony’s singular ability as a guitarist and songwriter had been forgotten somewhat; ‘Untame The Tiger’ serves as a stirring reminder of it.

Throughout, Andrew’s eccentric lyricism leans away from the paranoia of ‘MGMT’ and ‘Little Dark Age’ and towards a search for love in the midst of darkness; quietly, he and Ben continue to plough their strange pop furrow with aplomb.

Being aware of the context, it’s not the easiest listen, but it’s extremely rewarding.

This is a sonically rich, musically accomplished record - and it truly is - it’s Holly’s enviably dextrous voice that can’t help but take centre stage. They can belt with the best of them.

It is a dynamic and sensual album, rich with imagery, peppered with romance, and imbued with joy.

There’s something inherently welcoming in the short, sharp, and lyrically open songs, as Laura looks both inwards and outwards at her identity, her chosen music, and her vices. Each track unfolds with an ease only reserved for somebody with so much skin in the game.

Lime Garden offer a reassuring hand to warm shoulders and a candied melody or ten to sweeten ears. Not only this, but as an album indebted as much to Charli XCX or Bon Iver as it is to The Strokes, as equally comfortable with cello-bowing ballads or auto-tuned pop anthemia as it is with the guitar-chugging banger, it confirms Lime Garden as a band with potential to achieve even higher artistic greatness.

By the closing moments of the eery ‘Monolith’, it all becomes clear: this is love, but through the unmistakable eyes of IDLES.

Driven by Zara’s unwavering vocals and energetic delivery, ‘Venus’ is icy, crystallised and super fun - “fit for a goddess,” she says - and, aside from being a slight hodgepodge of genres, it’s a lush flex of skill.

‘Weird Faith’ sees Diaz defiant, ready to let her guard down again, with the title essentially referring to her faith in love; her work here evokes the gut-wrenching melodies and storytelling prowess of American supergroup boygenius.

Decidedly mature yet still with that same self-aware playfulness, this is undoubtedly his most eclectic offering to date.

Sonically sprawling (‘80s guitar sounds are referenced on the title track; a glitchy beat flickers through ‘Another Day’; ‘Power To Undo’ brims with pop-funk chaos) yet also unafraid to find joy in simple pleasures (the most immediate moment comes courtesy of ‘Prove It To You’, a club-ready stomp), ‘WHAT NOW’ is a gem.

‘The Pilgrim, Their God and the King of My Decrepit Mountain’ is an escapist dream, and immersive story.

An album that dreams not just big but huge. It begins with a literal orchestral overture - 96 seconds of world-building that removes you from boring old reality and plants you into their version of Fantasia. Then, 11 tracks of similarly sky-high, grandiose ambition, that tie together lofty literary sentiment, cinematic sweeping theatricality and killer melodic indie hooks with an equal affinity for each.

‘Dark Rainbow’ sounds like many of the best bits of each of their previous records. From rousing opener ‘Honey’ to the soft ballad closer of ‘A Dark Rainbow’, there’s a familiarity without ever feeling rehashed; that is to say existing fans will be pleased, while any new ears this falls on should want to hear more.

While there may be signs of holding back, ‘People Who Aren’t There Anymore’ still carries more than its fair share of upbeat anthems. This album isn’t much different, but why the band would ever change is a question that doesn’t need asking.

‘Friend of a Friend’ is an oasis of normality on this album, providing a piano ballad that could easily be a Neil Young deep cut, but for the most part this album is exactly what a side project should be – all the ideas too weird to fit anywhere else.

Not just a return to form from a group whose recent catalogue has been somewhat patchy, but a true classic, ‘Saviors’ is Green Day at their musical and thematic best.

With seemingly none of that badass-ery from their classic late-’90s output diluted by the passage of time, ‘Little Rope’ sloshes up nothing less than a condensed, rocket-punch collection of ten three-minute bangers.

This isn’t necessarily one to win The Vaccines a new generation, but for those already won over, it’ll prove worth the listen.

It’s a truly cathartic listening experience, driven by the belief that our darkest moments can only be alleviated if we sing about them beautifully enough.

Perhaps her most personal, but also her most diverse.

It’s musical exorcism at its very best, rallying against socially-imposed doubt and anxiety and - in its unique horror - finding welcome moments of inner peace.

‘Heaven knows’ pushes PinkPantheress into new realms of utter brilliance.

No, ‘Think Later’ doesn’t come close to reinventing the wheel (or pop), but it does drench itself within a pop maximalism full of fuel, energy and modernity.

The songs are rarely improved upon, with the fidelity to ruggedness giving the songs the feel of half-finished demos, but the songwriting itself is, of course, stellar.

Bella may not have enjoyed bringing ‘Quarter Life Crisis’ to life, but in facing her insecurities head on she chips away at the pristine Baby Queen polish and pairs her distinct brand of pop with real substance.

Sure, if you’re after something revolutionary, this one’s not for you; but ‘ONE MORE TIME…’ instead succeeds in its mission to reinvigorate the trio’s alchemy, and gives the band a much-needed chance to reflect and celebrate for at least one more time.

While there’s a constant sense of fun, there’s also always a consciousness about who, or what the Rolling Stones are.

’History Books’ is an album that personifies The Gaslight Anthem’s magic all over again.

‘The Silver Cord’ is often magnificent and always supremely fun.

All those who lapped up ‘Tracey Denim’ will be satisfied here. ‘The Twits’ may yet charm a few more besides.

Amid an existing height of musical Afrofuturism, ‘Sweet Justice’ is a crowning achievement - an assertion of self through distinct and precise perspective at the apex of a movement.

Sounding like their most ambitious and handsome release yet.

Most importantly, though, ‘Santhosam’ lives up to its name, as a record that reflects happiness.

‘Turn The World On’ is classic, sparkling Bombay, whereas ‘Rural Radio Predicts The Future’’s two-minute instrumental concludes with almost hyperpop bleeps; the Albarn-featuring ‘Heaven’ is loose and trip-hoppy, while highlight ‘Meditate’ (with Nilüfer Yanya) climbs the guitar scales into a twisted climax. A triumph.

Sampha’s voice might be the most instantly recognizable piece of magic in his arsenal, but it’s his patience and craft that makes ‘LAHAI’ such a stunning experience.

More so than some of his other recent material, the record has a sense of drama and occasion to it, as well as being the most musically seamless album he’s made in nearly twenty years, since 2004’s ‘A Grand Don’t Come for Free’.

These bold theatrics more than work, and maybe more so than ever, they present Creeper with a clear track to bringing camp, dramatic rock back to the very top of the pile.

It’s as fun and messy as it is timelessly trendy; as silly as it is erotic.

At once escapist and heavily personal, it’s a dark, pop-perfect, melancholic fantasy.

‘CrazyMad, For Me’ is a triumphant whirlwind of pain and self-preservation, which reveals more of itself with every listen.

‘Perfect Picture’ is the pinnacle of today’s hyperpop yet steers away from its once abrasive nature towards a well-rounded, rebooted version: one where all that Hannah is and can be is indeed made picture perfect.

If ‘Carrie & Lowell’ is set to remain as Sufjan Stevens’ best, ‘Javelin’ takes a confident stride back into personal territory and certainly gives 2015 a run for its money.

The most obvious uniting factor between this record and their previous ones, in fact, is their ability to write a whole host of bulletproof choruses, and it’s tricky to imagine coming unstuck from this album any time soon.

Capturing the highs and lows of womanhood via catchy pop, ‘Sorry I’m Late’ may have been a long time coming (see what she did there), but it’s worth the wait.

This is thoughtful, nuanced R&B that demonstrates Jorja’s kaleidoscopic feel for her genre, incorporating everything from neo-soul on the brooding title track, to flirting with dancehall on ‘Feelings’.

His voice is stunning, a far-reaching, emotive vibrato evoking Roy Orbison that keeps the often surface-level nature of his lyrics from reaching full saccharine.

yeule’s willingness to play with sonic landscape and sci-fi dystopia means their version of emo is more infectiously haunting than the blueprint.

There’s enough originality pumped throughout each track that ‘Tension’ will undoubtedly stand as one of the most favoured contemporary Kylie eras. There’s no pretension to its greatness, just our Kylie, once again, humbly proving how easily she can forge gold and transform into pop culture phenomenon.

‘Sorry I Haven’t Called’ is yet another accomplished chapter.

Taken individually these songs are all gorgeous, but as a whole they create an effect of being hemmed in by absence, that inhospitable land overwhelming in its minimalism. No other record today sounds so beautiful and full while being quite so sparse.

Across the record, the winking lyrical smarts are in full flow.

The album could stand to bear more of the inventiveness that was so rife on her debut, but Laufey’s crystalline voice and effortless charisma make this album into a gorgeous display of a unique talent.

Despite – and seemingly deliberately - not carrying the widespread immediacy of more recent releases, it presents James as he currently stands; at once nostalgic and forward-thinking, and firmly back behind the decks.

The collaborative spirit of producer Fred and long-time friend Haai flows throughout ‘Mid Air’’s eleven-strong homage to an unforgettable era, but it’s Romy’s autobiographical candour that adds a depth beyond the record’s inarguable ecstasy.

An album that works to intertwine large scale issues with some deeply personal admissions from frontwoman Sadie Dupuis - all via her intoxicating and bewildering brand of lyricism - the record, instead, grapples with the anger at its core and transforms. it into something more worthwhile.

If there’s evidence of musical progression, meanwhile, it comes via an apparently new-found fixation Neil has with modular synths; he deploys them tastefully here, perhaps to most striking effect on ‘Chained to a Cloud’. In general, though, ‘everything is alive’ very much gives off the sense that the slower gestations lead to the richest rewards.

Punctuated by Simon’s misanthropic frustrations at a post-pandemic world, it’s a bold and brilliant but bileful record that may alienate even the most diehard of those ‘early-albums-are-the-best’ fans.

It may not be entirely reinventing the rock wheel, but it’s certainly a more successful attempt at broadening their horizons.

‘Bunny’, for the most part, justifies why Healey’s little black book is quite so heaving.