‘I Love You Jennifer B’ feels like everything that’s come before has just been a trial run. It’s bolder, more rewarding, and so much more cohesive.

‘As Above, So Below’ feels more refined. It’s fair to say there’s no one else quite doing it like Sampa The Great right now.

‘Hideous Bastard’ sees Oliver take on both these past and present realities with a candour that surprises even him.

Its wares pick up where its predecessor left off but without adding too much extra to the mix.

The last third of the record is more streamlined, with the sweeping, subtly metallic ‘Kill Or Be Killed’ offering a welcome throwback to the days when Muse were at their best, but it’s not enough to redeem this all-too-OTT offering.

It’s not a bad record, but it’s not quite there.

From start to finish, Julia has created a world entirely of her own - one which revels in representing her with unflinching honesty using a delicately-woven soundscape. Hers is a world where solace and solidarity are steeped into every brick.

It’s all fun without feeling frivolous, packing relatable substance into its genuinely jovial sound.

Spoken word moments peppered throughout hark back to the ‘80s on an album that pushes musical boundaries well past the present day. In sound, it’s as bold as the personality that runs through it.

Given that the various members of Hot Chip have various side-hustles and secondary creative outlets, it’s a little surprising how much of ‘Freakout / Release’ sounds quite this forced.

Their particular brand of punk never pauses for breath: it’s thirteen unabating tracks, fired up on adrenaline and the thrill of just not giving a shit.

An album that covers this much ground could quickly feel disjointed, yet through painting with broad brush strokes, Mall Grab has cohesively summarised what it is that makes him tick.

The few hints towards more modern fare - the undulating yet ultimately forgettable ‘Whirlpool’, closer ‘Everything’s Been Leading To This’ with its ‘80s keys and distinctly ‘00s indie air - could’ve been left on the cutting room floor, but overall ‘Reset’ is as warm a listen as Sonic Boom’s near-forgotten records must’ve been in lockdown Lisbon.

Leaning more into the pop-rock sound of their previous record, ‘Unwanted’ shines in its ability to produce a pop-punk anthem your ‘00s faves wish they could’ve written. Throughout, Heather holds nothing back.

They’re not re-writing the rule book, but on ‘Chopper’ Kiwi Jr lift off towards becoming cult favourites.

It’s thrilling stuff but most importantly, with him [Sergio Pizzorno] solely steering the ship, it’s the most authentic this band have sounded in a long time - once again, it feels like they’re capable of going anywhere they want.

Danger Mouse and Black Thought’s long-awaited album arrives as a tribute to a whole scene rather than just two artists.

Unlike 2016’s iconic ‘Lemonade’, ‘Renaissance’ firmly embodies this world. No ballads or break up songs necessary, the album sits proudly at 16 tracks of pure energy. A masterclass in reinvention.

Lauv’s second record certainly provides an array of sweet pop highs, but still doesn’t quite show us who the writer behind it all really is.

Pulling together synth, strings and warped melodies, the love song [‘Winter Is Hopeful’] is tender yet distant, disarming yet comforting, discordant yet oddly harmonious - the way this album sounds.

‘Surrender’ proves Maggie can use motifs from the past to build worlds and stimulate memories while always looking forward.

The sound of an artist coming home to themselves, ‘The Theory Of Whatever’ is proof that you can grow up gracefully with every inch of your vibrancy still intact.

Lizzo has created something often softer and more intimate than anyone might have expected. Of course, as the disco strut of lead single ‘About Damn Time’ will attest, there are still cheeky bangers contained within.

Mixing disco, dance, pop and R&B elements, ‘About Last Night…’ whisks us through the highs and lows of the best night out of your life, and Mabel is the perfect party guide.

With ‘Fear Fear’, WMC already have a signature viewpoint all of their own - the fun is in seeing how they continue to play with it.

‘World Wide Pop’ is a joyously over-the-top explosion of audio technicolor, where the group embrace their oddities and eccentricities.

This is an album that asks for patience, and only on occasion is it duly rewarded.

Although less esoteric than its predecessor ‘Cavalcade’, ‘Hellfire’ is a fiercely experimental record that sees black midi teeter back and forth on a crumbling precipice, halfway between unhinged madness and art rock precision.

‘Beatopia’ shows growth without risking losing the charm that has made Bea a firm favourite.

It’s by far the happiest MUNA have sounded; a celebratory expression of queer love that loses none of the trio’s magic.

The gambles pay off, and all add up to her most accomplished group of songs to date.

There’s a real cleverness about the contrast between these very modern themes and their throwback sound, a sparklier take on garage-flecked indie that proves wildly catchy.

Never has an album title been better chosen - the duo are at the centre of a brightly burning, ever-expanding sonic explosion, all of their own making, and just like a supernova, it is utterly stunning to witness. Bow down to the queens.

There aren’t any standalone tracks, with the arguable exception of ‘Pop Song’. In that sense this is an album in its truest form, a record to sit with and take in as one whole.

‘Life Is Yours’ is the sound of the band less emerging blinking into the post-pandemic light than bounding back into the saddle.

With Liam’s solo career on a high, it’ll be interesting to see where more experimentation leads him next - although somewhat of a mixed bag here, it’s thrilling to see him stray from the formula he knows too well.

It’s uncompromising yet nonetheless inventive, with eccentric flows and inspired production choices.

‘graves’ may not be a huge musical departure, but it’s a sign Purity Ring still have ideas left in them yet.

While ’40 oz. to Fresno’ is certainly a little less orthodox than we’ve come to expect, it doesn’t matter all that much: their rough-around-the-edges punk still strikes the right chords.

George Ezra knows his strengths, he knows his audience, and he’s sticking to it come hell or high water. The result is still yet another charming record that’s hard not to love.

It may not rock the boat stylistically, with her influences always ever-present, but ‘Time Bend And Break The Bower’ is an experience worth immersing yourself in by unravelling the meaning or just following Sinead’s lead down the rabbit hole.

Both ‘Fountain’ and ‘Sweet Memz’ are solemn, sobering pieces. This delicacy is a little muted at times, lacking the sharp, alluring production of the record’s opening, instead closing out in hushed tones. It feels a little uncertain, as if the group are speculating the next chapter in their artistic output.

‘Versions of Modern Performance’ is a gleaming window into a new generation of great American guitar bands.

Haunting, heartbreaking and life-affirming, Angel Olsen’s songwriting talents soar to great heights in the mostly restrained palette here, offering the much needed space to wrestle with the complexities life has thrown at her.

Despite the album featuring several enjoyable moments, though, the listener is left feeling that it’s somewhat rambling and unfocused, and could possibly have benefited from the band leaving themselves more time for their ideas to gestate.

It’s clear from the album that Tate McRae’s arsenal of jagged pop weapons is extensive, and can be expertly wielded when she wants.

With his debut album, Alfie Templeman has found a means of discovering himself and a means to cope. It makes for something incredibly promising.

Swampy and tumultuous like a month’s worth of rain, the Dundalk five-piece have spared no expense in creating immersive, cavernous spaces of shoegazing, post-punk splendour.

It’s a largely hit-and-miss pop record.

At 71 captivating minutes, ‘Heavy Pendulum’ provides a touchstone, alongside new-wave, disruptive tracks that seek to tell tales of political turmoil, the ‘new reality’ of grief and posthumous brotherhood. A long-overdue homecoming.

The eight-track collection finds its voice through an ever more personal lens, one that dials down the familiar ignitable fare in favour of intricate ambient spread. In doing so, variation on past cues and themes are offered, sonically pared down yet expansive in concept – an effort that adds new facets and angles to Lykke Li’s art.

From this new personal phase, Flume’s latest techno-charged offering upscales the drops, fidgety distortion and replay value that has proved a constant in his playbook.

For anyone who’s long fallen for the Derry native’s charms, third time’s a winner - for anyone who finds comfort in revelling in stripped-back melancholy, it’s a dream.

Change, escape and identity are not easy things to navigate, and ‘Preacher’s Daughter’ is the dark, unsettling, sprawling beauty that comes out of it.

There’s something invigorating about how audibly Porridge Radio stare their demons head on, step up to the plate and turn them into something big and ambitious and beautiful.

His distinctive voice, ranging from guttural lows to a glittering falsetto, is the tool he uses to sculpt out his vast sonic vision.

For the most part ‘Dance Fever’ is an expert revamp from one of alternative music’s torch-bearing misfits, a welcome shot of fairy-tale hedonism ripe for post-pandemic dancefloor indulgence.

In ‘Harry’s House’ lives a songwriter confident enough in both to start playing with convention.

It all feels remarkably familiar, but given the record’s pedigree, that’s far from a bad thing.

Twenty years on from their debut, ‘The Big Come Up’, it’s a statement of how far they’ve come, as well as an indicator of where they might be heading next.

[Pa Salieu] The Ghanaian-British rapper is one of a handful of guests here, each of whom allow Ibeyi to reflect the past and present simultaneously.

Ultimately an exercise in Sunflower Bean showing off that they can do just about everything well.

While the classic Warpaint tropes - clever, heady interplay; four voices weaving as one - are present and correct, this time the more icy edges are rounded off in favour of softness and a nurturing sense of femininity.

This is very much the most mature Sharon Van Etten offering to date - and perhaps the most musically accomplished, too.

‘A Bit of Previous’ remains an enjoyably sunny listen, even if one frequently inflected with melancholy.

While ‘Endless Rooms’ chronicles a darker period in RBCF’s time as a band, it’s an album that paves a sonically brighter and broader future ahead.

It’s clear that these songs have a real and sincere heart, designed to both stir and soothe the soul in one fell swoop.

‘How To Let Go’ is an album of two halves, where at times she seamlessly slides back into the laid-back persona of old.

He combines whispering brush patterns and flecks of industrial glitch in the cerebral ‘Foreplay’ yet writes the perfect neo-soul pop song in ‘The Loop’, exemplifying his cross-disciplinary skill, and ability to marry fluid performance with tonal nuance.

“Like two ribbons, still woven although we are fraying,” they admit. By accepting this, Let’s Eat Grandma have found the sonic balance between friendship, unity, and individual identity.

‘Heart Tax’ is much more expansive, and has her spreading her wings in a number of different stylistic directions whilst maintaining her trademark hypnotic rhythms as a through-line with which to tie everything together.

This follow-up is more inquisitive and self-exploratory, and just a touch darker - while still building on her signature nostalgic sound.

‘SongBook’ is a debut that suggests The Lazy Eyes have the guile to forge their own roads in a genre not currently experiencing a dearth of talent.

Bobby is a jack of all trades when it comes to surmising his subject matter while balancing the line of fact, fun, and fierce emotion. It makes for one of the year’s most essential records yet.

There’s just enough on ‘Everything…’ to ingratiate fans both new and old.

For those who missed the rabble-rousing of ‘Dogrel’ but liked the darkness of ‘A Hero’s Death’, this record splits the perfect difference, sealing it along the middle with the superglue of a band who now know exactly where they’re going. Truth be told, they’ve never been more at home.

While these tracks are testament to how well the LA trio can build an astronomical sense of atmosphere, they can create icy harshness with equal brilliance.

For an album winding in length, it doesn’t outstay its welcome; if the jump to a major means more lovingly fashioned breeziness like this, then so much the better.

‘Second Nature’ hits the mark when it comes to dancing, although taking the time to embrace those quieter moments can often be some of the best, too.

These songs will inevitably end up stuck in their heads. In short, it’s bloody lovely.

Omar Apollo inspires, and his competence as a vocalist is unmistakable on ‘Ivory’. Conflating his electro-pop tendencies with the occasional stride of a campfire guitar, he turns everything he touches to glistening radio gold.

It’s vulnerable, it’s heartfelt, and above all it feels real.

It finds him at his most confident, if not most innovative, and maybe his most comfortable.

‘Bronco’ flits between theatricality and poignancy, almost every song sounding like it could score a Western’s pivotal moment with ease. Helmed by the singer’s powerhouse vocals, it’s impossible not to be drawn in throughout the album’s 15 country-rock-song run.

‘Growing Up’ they easily cement themselves as far more than a viral moment, pairing political and social charge with a suitably playful charm. Opener ‘Oh!’ delivers a powerhouse homage to the band’s foremothers, highlighting ‘Growing Up’’s clever balance between frivolity, passion and skill.

Definitely an acquired taste for those who Grizzly Bear’s less immediate side already ticks multiple boxes, but for those it’s surely a win.

Rife with feelings of ephemeral isolation and deep personal anxieties, they have realised a new wave of modern storytelling, forging ‘The Line Is A Curve’ as an answer to an open call for honesty.

On ‘Chloë and the Next 20th Century’, Father John Misty is transporting himself to a different world; it sounds pretty damn sweet over there.

‘Fear of The Dawn’ is very much like the kind of party where you’re hoping daylight stays away for some time yet.

It’s the slightly wonky worldview of the band themselves that really elevates ‘Wet Leg’ into the realms of the truly special.

The Los Angeles singer-songwriter spinning tales of dark, often questionable situations in a barely-there whisper atop folkish instrumentation that owes similar debts to the city’s famed ‘70s scene and Elliott Smith. With yes, witty lyrical asides that jar smartly with his seemingly timeless sound.

An enticing way to stay true to their roots, while approaching things in a fresh manner, their fourth record might still play to their self-deprecating strengths, but it also proves that they’re secretly ambitious too.

At the heart of ‘At the Hotspot’, though, is a reminder that for all of their eccentricities, Warmduscher remain a tight garage-rock outfit - just one that isn’t afraid to wander down some stylistic rabbit holes.

Their knack for incredible hooks is still there (see ‘Holiday’, the very definition of an earworm), but the effortless fun seems to have fallen by the wayside.

Awash with electric guitars equally as influenced by tradition as cathartic night drives, ‘Leave The Light On’ delves into the power of loneliness. Challenging the definition through both lyrics and sound, Pillow Queens deliberately play with light and heavy.

It captures a band confident in their own identity, holding it as a badge of honour instead of something to be hidden.

‘Unlimited Love’ certainly won’t win over the naysayers. As the laid-back funk and wordplay of ‘Poster Child’ attests, all their usual tropes are present and correct, meaning whatever your view on the Chili Peppers, this record will only confirm it.

‘Tell Me That It’s Over’ is a superlative ode to vulnerability, permitting these indie wallflowers to flourish in technicolour.