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.

Expectations [are] built by her collaborators - who aided artists like Dua and Kylie in carving revered pop niches - weigh detrimentally on the record: it doesn’t push itself nearly as far. Yet, undeniably, it’s a dependable, invigorating debut.

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.

A mish-mash of sounds, picked up magpie-style to create something which consistently skirts the line between warm and distant, familiar and disconcerting, hypnotic and, well, irritating.

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’s all washed over with a layer of fuzz, the distorted sound making it impossible to discern precisely what’s going on - which is, one would imagine, precisely the point.

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.

While some might mourn the loss of their one-time raucousness, ‘Gigi’s Recovery’ shows that their momentum swings only forwards.

While the album may find itself guilty of treading the line of pretty-but-unassuming at times - the sheer beauty of every detail is impressive, if not a little tiring - ‘Time’s Arrow’ remains a sumptuous listen.

‘Mercy’ provides another delicious example of an esteemed old-timer triumphantly pushing his creative frontiers into a much-shifted modern age.

There is a surety to ‘Permanent Damage’, however, in the sheer force of lyricism at play. With soulful, silk-like vocals, Joesef weaves this narrative, deftly dealing the blows of this world in absolute destruction, before showing that ultimately, some marks never fade and that’s OK.

While the off-kilter rhythms and cowbells of ‘This Love’ give way to a central chorus line that’s almost Bowie-esque. They’re big reference points but ‘Turn The Car Around’ uses them masterfully to drive down its own sonic motorway.

There’s still that personable rawness to her production – the synthetic drums and often sparse arrangement mirroring her frequently despondent lyrical themes (“The death of everything real has happened…” begins ‘apathy is wild’). But her vocal offers warmth.

By embracing all sides of his 50 years in the game, ‘Every Loser’ is Iggy throwing out the late-career rulebook and having a whole bunch of fun. Which is, of course, what made him so brilliant in the first place.

The drought may be over, but SZA left no crumbs.

While the album is certainly softer in sound, it never plays it safe - experimental pay-offs are peppered throughout.

On the album’s most transcendental moments, its slow pace tires like the midsection of a dissertation, but nonetheless its beauty and melancholia is infectious.

A record that plays like an unwieldy and unravelling ode to all the twists and turns of Brockhampton’s journey.

The music is the same gorgeous blend of folk-rock in the vein of Joni Mitchell and Stevie Nicks as on previous albums, and indeed, many of the song titles, such as ‘Children of the Empire’, feel lifted from the dusty cover of a forgotten LP of ballads.

The resultant ‘Tropical Gothclub’ is so polished and pristine that the only pity is that it didn’t come sooner. Given the pantheon of rock stars he’s bolstered over the years, Dean has finally earned a little slice of time in his own limelight.

Synths bloom like the early morning rays of the sun, reaching out to a lover lost in the darkness. ‘Tu sais ce qu’il me faut’ celebrates seduction as he lusts over a beau; the way they walk, the way they dance, their body is celebrated in all its glory.

‘Loud Without Noise’ is flawless. Wildly ambitious, it works to showcase perfectly why the Merseysiders have garnered such a fervent fanbase to date – and just how far they could go.

Much of Cavetown’s fifth album is as one would expect. ... However then arrives ‘a kind thing to do’ - featuring Pierce The Veil’s Vic Fuentes - which plays with punk-pop revival tropes in captivating ways.

‘Endure’ marks Special Interest’s debut for Rough Trade and manages to plant a foot in both worlds - the resolutely uncompromising punks of old, and a band capable of infiltrating at least the more alternative end of the radio - with gusto.

The witching hour is here, and ‘Miss Power’ is mesmerising.

A truly seminal record, ‘Ultra Truth’ is a radiant voyage for Daniel Avery, and for everyone who dares join him for the experience.

Their most ambitious work to date, ‘Myself In The Way’ sees them enter a new world of expansive sound.

A record of warm and soaring pop-rock that still manages to both delight and intrigue, ‘Palomino’ is the sound of a duo still roaming new territory, but feeling more confident than ever.

‘MK 3.5’ is an often unwieldy and curiously warming project that sees both contributors embrace discomfort in their art.

‘Alpha Zulu’ is a fun record, on which the creators’ own enjoyment is audibly palpable.

It’s the most eclectic punk record to emerge in ages, and even though it incorporates elements that might seem incongruous in a style that thrives off its simplicity, they’re carried off with enough class for it to sound intriguing rather than jarring. In fact, there’s a refreshing elegance about the whole thing.

There’s nothing particularly new here from Fred bar minor switches into previously unexplored electronic styles, but it still boasts some of his best tracks yet.

Listening to ‘Cave World’ is akin to dipping your whole body in murky, warm sea water - you feel blinded and a little bit disgusted, but overall excited to explore your new surroundings.

There’s a pop sensibility never far from Maya and her collaborators (co-produced by Okkervil River’s Benjamin Lazar Davis, with credits too for bandmate Will Graefe, and fellow folky soul Christian Lee Hutson) that gives the record a well-masked determined nature, simultaneously familiar and exciting.

Embracing her musical kindred spirits, ‘Makes Me Sick…’ isn’t just a rehash of her idols, it’s a natural successor.

Cynicism at the door, ‘Doggerel’ is an enjoyable – and exciting – listen.

Not an easy listen - as one might expect - but definitely a rich, rewarding one.

Ultimately, ‘Nymph’ is a climax – a culmination of years of experimental foreplay – that puts Shygirl on the map as one of the UK’s freshest voices. It honours the altar at which Shygirl was born, but gently trickles into an adjacent brook, to where we might see her next.

On ‘hugo’, Loyle Carner proves his willingness to take risks and it pays off. While it feels like we’re still waiting on a total knockout from him, his lyrical progress and appetite for new sonic territories on ‘hugo’ suggests he’s verging ever closer.

Granted, at some points it does feel a little unrelenting, but the sheer ferocity of this record illustrates a band intently focused on the future, and breaking through to the next level.

The soundscapes on ‘The Loneliest Time’ may not be as grandiose, or as sugar-coated as we’re used to from her, but that doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t still a lot. ‘The Loneliest Time’ is definitely Carly’s most introspective album.

Jack Antonoff’s fingerprints are easy to spot. The producer layers Taylor’s intimate stories with electronic drums that push certain moments to understated crescendos.

At times, their ambition really clicks into place (the euphoric bounce of ‘Smoking Weed Alone’, for example), but at others, it feels a bit muddled. Their ambition is undoubtedly to be applauded, but this one’s a bit of a mixed bag.

A vulnerable, accomplished but, most importantly, empowering debut.

It’s unlikely to win over the naysayers, but, for those already enamoured with their kitchen sink Dadaism, ‘Stumpwork’ is yet more magic from Dry Cleaning.

‘Angels & Queens – Part I’ is nothing if not an intense listen.

It’s the kind of stylistic pick’n’mix Mykki has made their name on: ‘Ketamine’ with Slug Christ nods to the latest iteration of pop-punk; ‘Your Love Was A Gift’ shows a fragility to Dianna Gordon’s vocals amid ghostly production; ‘Trust A Little Bit’ shimmers with a tender nature. And best of all, it works as a whole.

‘The Car’ is Alex and crew’s most soundtrack-like work so far, flowing together in one long movement made cohesive by Bridget Samuels’ lush orchestral arrangements which adorn it.

With this near-mystical storytelling ‘Quiet The Room’ leans heavily on folk, yet in style it embodies something entirely different. Seemingly on the edge of collapse, it tells a fraught tale of fragile memories that exist on the very brink of reality.

‘Here Is Everything’ lands in the sweet spot; it’s creatively ambitious, pushing the quartet into new ground, but it does so with a renewed sense of fun.

‘Dirt Femme’ sees her juxtapose elements ingeniously. If she’s singing in a straightforward manner, on a more direct number, then the music is twisting and turning in offbeat ways.

‘CHAOS NOW*’ might not have much of ‘80s Mancunian misery in its toolbox, but there’s an exhilarating meeting of grunge, pop-punk and indie with hip hop rhythms: Beck if he’d used a palette of early ‘00s MTV2.

There is something strangely satisfying about its consistency and confidence. Have no doubts, ‘Being Funny…’ is most certainly still The 1975; they’ve just refined their pop nous that little bit more this time around.

There are plenty of good ideas across ‘Suckerpunch’. It just could’ve done with fewer bad ones.

For a record born of fatigue and exhaustion, she imbues a renewing sense of urgency to each bar she delivers.

‘Into The Blue’ comes across like the pair swapping mixtapes; a little ‘60s psych here, some ‘70s soul there, with a smidge of ‘80s R&B between. ... In lesser hands, this may have presented a mish-mash of confused homage, but here, it’s just a pleasant, nostalgic listen.

The stories being told match in tone, driven forward through a tantalising mix of urgency and despondency – mirroring the detached hustle of England’s capital.

Uneasy and unpredictable, yet invigorating.

Across ‘Cool It Down’, Yeah Yeah Yeahs remain true to their roots without making it sound like a nostalgic grab for previous glory. ... It turns out Yeah Yeah Yeahs 2.0 is exactly what 2022 needs.

These 14 tracks are so sonically rich with a multitude of textures, each listen peeling back just one measly layer; Molly’s vocal hooks and turns of phrase will remain in your brain days after the last listen.

With fewer hands stirring the pot this time around, she’s had ample opportunity to come even more into her own, pulling off the bouncy, subtly ska-influenced WLW bop ‘hover like a GODDESS’ and introspective guitar pop groove of ‘curious/furious’ and ‘ur a stranger’ with stylish ease. Most intriguing, perhaps, are her forays into post-hardcore, unleashing a tremendous scream over the top of crunching guitars in the dying moments of ‘ it’s my fault’, but not everything goes quite so smoothly.

The record makes no attempt to shroud emotional reactions to the modern world, and it results in a thematically poignant, lyrically sharp and sonically surprising statement piece that redeems what was once used as a dismissive label.

‘GULP!’ isn’t Sports Team’s number one-scoring album (that could well be still to come). What it does offer is a heft of new ammo for pint-flinging, moshpitting chaos on the dancefloor.

The Lounge Society clearly have more in their influence pool than just one slipstream, and it’s when they embrace the full flood that they shine.

It’s a testament to his talents that he can produce an album that encapsulates his weird and beautiful world, which is full of more questions than answers.

‘Tough Baby’ gives us a distinctly moving experience of serious artistic intent. It’s like watching a wound open, flowers growing out of it.

The LA quintet’s third album doesn’t quite explode as much as it hopes to, though a few songs threaten to, largely the acid-tongued, grinding ‘Roadkill’ and the vintage-sounding title track.

There’s an abundance of over-excited jitters that keep you bouncing to each wildly mercurial moment. ‘demon time’ is an undeniable rush to your systems, and a deliciously futuristic one at that.

A deeply thoughtful and yet infinitely danceable collection of songs, it balances honest truths with taunting vocals and bursts of synth-prompted energy.

‘(self-titled)’ is Vegemite: the same, but different. When he strips it right back - ‘Prior Warning’, with its bleak reminiscing reflected by a sonic hark back to the London scene in which he made his early name, and the stark ‘Dangerous Game’, where Marcus’ voice allowed to linger for just the right amount of time - there’s a warm quality to his songwriting that seeps through.

Suede maintain their magnitude through emotional craft - single ‘15 Again’ is the perfect microcosm of ‘Autofiction’’s ups and downs, its euphoric chorus built around painstaking regret. In essence, ‘Autofiction’ finds Suede still fiercely in motion.

‘Spark’ presents a jarring change: not one from that familiar warmth to icy cold, but only halfway, a sort of uncomfortable mild chill.

‘Asphalt Meadows’ may not be a lockdown record, but it’s one that finds its voice in emerging into musical freedoms found in separation.

It’s an honest and visceral look into more painful moments that come with processing past pain.

It takes a while for Preoccupations to find their new groove on ‘Arrangements’. But, when they hit that stride in the latter half, it’s a terrific one.