The Meanest of Times is a lyrically dense album, but in spite of it all Dropkick Murphys know how to turn a wake in to a party.

They may have been away for a while, but ADULT. remain as frustratingly unloveable as ever.

Everyone involved seems to work well together.

As it turns out, music of surprising intricacy and beauty lies within these canvases, but you'd be well advised to consult your musical doctor before opening up fully to them.

It manages to avoid the pitfalls of creative redundancy and combines a classic sound with a contemporary twist to perfect effect.

Like Dylan, Born To Sing will probably be an acquired taste for some (the jazzy backing may put some off, as may Morrison's tendency to incessantly repeat lines and start scatting every so often), but it's yet another example of his sometimes erratic genius.

In many ways it offers lessons in collaborative best practice, with individual sonic identities preserved, yet with a willingness to divert from usual methods on both sides proves it’s much more than just a stop-gap in between their respective next albums.

This is awkward, sharp elbowed music that requires time and effort to fully appreciate, yet the complex textures and image-laden, thought provoking lyrics will gradually reveal themselves to those prepared to be patient.

Songs From Isolation is a gorgeous collection that hits home in these bizarre times. Intense and distinctive, it’s the sound of someone finding solace in music – and that’s something we can all relate to right now.

It is, without a doubt, the work of a superstar returning from the shadows.

As it is Small World is melodious and twee in a good way.

Perhaps some of this record suffers from thin songwriting but the drops, so clearly the main attraction here, are characterful, razor-sharp and banging.

Sartain’s songwriting (and choice of covers) is superb throughout, and the album is immaculately sequenced. But that’s not really the main appeal of this record--the appeal is that it’s eclectic, and that it’s funny.

As a study of a man starting to slowly regain his feet after a major relationship break-up during a pandemic, Extreme Witchcraft has plenty to say. As a collection of Eels songs though, it unfortunately falls some way short of the band’s best work.

It's a disappointment that their live energy hasn't been replicated on Rise Ye Sunken Ships.

It’s not a perfect album--few are--but it’s definitely one that’ll have you ensnared

Shout Out Louds are back, in style.

Chilly is on to something here, with a collection of small-scale musical postcards ready to charm anyone lucky enough to receive them.

All Days Are Nights is the sound of the man doing what he does best: bruised, tender, emotional and, at times, quite brilliant music.

At times arresting, at other moments it's let down by some odd choices in the production and mixing. There is enough to hold the attention and to draw the listener back.

It is a marvellous creation from a premiere talent, and deserves both your time and hard-earned money.

Fans of the old soundtrack will find much to love in the new interpretations, and coming from such iconic source material, Carpenter couldn’t really fail. With any luck, the new movie will measure up to the soundtrack and the high expectations that fans of the original movie have for it.

By introducing the concept of rap as therapy through expansive, rambling tracks (that are admittedly a bit too trying on the patience to be played repeatedly), Tyler has certainly set himself apart from the endless sea of new young rappers.

So while they aren't 'middle of the road' yet, their rumble needs to find a direction of their own before finding their speed limit.

Highly engaging and tactfully succinct, Axxa / Abraxas is one to share with your friends and lovers, a soundtrack to your groovy summer.

Mostly this is just a bit Bastille by numbers. If you’re looking for a photocopy of their previous albums, faded and off-colour, Doom Days will satisfy.

As M83 Anthony Gonzalez makes you want to turn the volume up as loud as possible, filling the room with music and reaching for those other worlds and creatures. Fantasy, then, fuels our imagination – just at the time when musical escapism is sorely needed.

While unlikely to change anyone’s life, The Head And The Heart have produced a record that’s richly enjoyable and well performed throughout, establishing themselves as a worthy addition to their home town’s roll of honour.

Musically, lyrically and emotionally, it works.

The End Of Silence is a tasteful look at the butterfly effect that is smart not to get caught up in the consequences of a moment, instead exploring that moment to the fullest and leaving you to wonder.

The Magic Numbers’ latest LP may not be perfect, but it is a big step in the right direction.

In a scene saturated with predictable guitar bands Clinic are a refreshing alternative, pleasingly unhinged and resolutely refusing to conform to type.

Their strengths lie within rocky, repetitive grooves and guitar wizardry, with Johnson’s own appearance aptly resembling that of a wizard. Tellingly, the band only once surpass a running time of six minutes on Back To Land. In this case, less is more.

There are numerous disparate elements at play, reflecting the different backgrounds of the contributors, and while sometimes it all comes together beautifully, at others it feels either strangely flat or rather a chaotic, over-egged mess, with the clash of influences jarring rather than blooming.

As an example of Boris at their best, it’s hard to top, but this is an album that finds the band in particularly rude health. Noise never sounded so good.

The quality, depth, and otherworldliness that Halstead has achieved here elevates it above being just another folk album.

Sometimes it feels a little one-paced and, on the first few listens, disinterest is but a stone's throw away. Luckily for Secret Cities though, the more listens the album gets, the more enjoyable it becomes.

10 Futures may sound like a collection of individual tracks on the surface, but the more you listen the more it all begins to make sense.

A fairly straight-up radio friendly rock album.

Free is not as lyrically emotionally resonating as Blackstar but it evokes similar feelings. The reason that it doesn’t fully pack the same punch is that there is a sense that he cannot fully commit. It is a solid album, but just leaves you wondering slightly what could have been.

It sees Vernon moving things on a touch, artistically, while still retaining much of what made his debut such a delight to so many.

It’s the perfect break-up album as there’s no wallowing--rather, there’s a steely defiance running through these songs that make Tall Tall Shadow a surprisingly uplifting experience.

As musically un-diverse as it may be, how cynical and jaded you would have to be to take against it. Tennis’ music is not intended to push at vanguards, but to make you happy.

Described as bittersweet feel-good music, The Stoop does pop music with a capital P--in wolf's clothing.

Although Voyage is mostly geared towards giving audiences the vintage time capsule they desire, we are still being invited to imagine other possibilities.

There's little in the way of fire or grit here.

Women + Country is something of a concept album, providing a necessary and unflinching look at a people who are often too proud to admit they're dying slowly of the lonesome blues.

The tracks are well made and good stuff, but on the whole Urban Turban feels a little too all over the shop to pack the wallop it deserves.

It's comparable to Late Of The Pier's debut Fantasy Black Channel; a lot on show but with hints of greater achievement. But Man Alive is a step up from that. It could well be their masterpiece; their scatterbrained work of art.

Smoking In Heaven is a great achievement, to be enjoyed again and again.

If its purpose is to celebrate the traditional Irish music that The Chieftains have played for half a century, note their influence and even open them up to new audiences, it does exactly that.

MCIII might fail to live up to its billing as concept album, but it absolutely doesn’t fail to provide a steady stream of big-hearted guitar-pop songs.

So-so is, sadly, exactly the problem with a lot of the rest of the album, which veers from ho-hum to shoulder-shrugging acceptance without any real sense of originality or development.

Although there mightn’t be a Feed The Tree or Super Connected to be found this time round, Dove is a coherent collection that retains Belly’s essence while acknowledging the passing of nigh-on a quarter of a century.

Danse Macabre becomes a career retrospective of sorts, earning credit by not going down the obvious ‘best of’ route. However, to work it needs the different elements to complement each other, and on that score its success is extremely limited.

While this may be something of a stopgap release while Maclean tries out a new venture or two, Everybody Get Close has plenty of dancefloor noise, and is switched on to the rhythm throughout.

It has been a long wait for a British album like this, the kind that transcends age group appeal and inspires cool kids to form bands and geeky kids to lose themselves in music's history.

There may not quite be enough highlights to keep you clicking repeat indefinitely but, for a first glimpse of a new band that’s certainly got plenty of tongues wagging, Until The Tide Creeps In isn’t a bad outing at all.

For Miike Snow make weirdly wonderful music, not without its strange lyrical dark side, but with an overall vibe that raises you to your feet and makes you gaze at the blue sky. In a phrase, life-enriching.

The end result is a record that frustrates more often than it thrills. In other words, it is essentially the same again.

Flume is stuck between innovation and the urge to party like it’s 2014, and though Palaces has real highlights, it is weakened by this indecision.

Overall, Phrazes For The Young is a successful departure from The Strokes' straightforward brawn, but it's not as different as it's been billed.

So while a cautious welcome is given to this near-flawless interpretation of soul music, it is done with the observation that another record of such polish will be ultimately empty, and more than a little disappointing.

As the mainstream of club music continues to seek out bigger and more energetic sounds, Logic1000’s relatively mellow approach is intriguing, and Mother certainly shows potential – it just needs some fine-tuning to become the full package.

Cursing The Sea is an enjoyable listen from start to finish; whilst not possessing anything in the way of a number one single, the rawness and lo-fi feel will appeal to many.

At some points, you listen and think 'my God, this is actually better than The Strokes'.

Heligoland doesn't touch the perfection of Blue Lines, but few albums do. It is though a return to form from one of the real pioneering bands of our age.

While the album does weigh heavily on its dark themes--possibly too much so at times--The Avett Brothers have never sounded better than they do on The Carpenter.

Not all their ventures are successful, but with a final play on words it’s more Power to Editors’ elbows, for once EBM takes a firm grip on its listener it does not let them go.

The Like take hooks to the next level by repeating choruses as many times as possible, but the sections are so catchy it's very difficult to get annoyed by the repetitions.

The real highlights are the two tracks with lyrics, Roll Back with Lil Silva and the suitably nocturnal Half-Light (Night Version) with Tracey Thorn of Everything But The Girl. These songs play to Fitzgerald’s strengths. By contrast, the rest of the album feels like watching a stage with no performers on it. A well-lit stage, as Fitzgerald can create a mood well, but still fundamentally a hollow experience.

Marshall may appear more stylish, her striking face and poker straight hair gracing many more magazine covers than it used to, but the music making is clearly totally safe in her hands, and anyone predicting a creative nosedive any time soon should be in for a very long wait.

Jose Gonzalez may not be doing anything any differently, but he's also not doing very much wrong.

Too many of these tracks sound like empty afterthoughts, or half-baked studio incarnations, needing more embellishment or maybe just a general reimagining.

The problem with Colors is that where once he innovated, Beck now seems to be imitating the slew of fizzing faceless pop clogging the airwaves buried under a mesh of corporate production.

This Is Eggland takes no prisoners in its sonic bombast, and does not suffer fools gladly. Taking elements from krautrock in the oscillations of Silver Apples together with the slash and fury of riot grrlers Bikini Kill, the resulting dish is mashed up in a throwaway aesthetic.

As pretty much anyone will tell you, this sound hits more than it misses.

Temples’ piercing synths certainly perplex and distract but probably not in the way they intended. Any emotional or meaningful messages that may be in these songs are completely lost. Some lovely moments do manage to fight their way through.

Television Personalities fans will be overjoyed with this collection of new songs. Newcomers will wonder how music like this ever got recorded, but bored of Mike Skinner, might rejoice in its working-class accented good humour and honesty.

The Sword still know how to write killer riffs. That said, they've changed tack a little this time around mainly thanks to the polished production of Matt Bayles (previous clients include Isis and Mastodon).

Home is a significant statement from a hugely impressive producer at the peak of his powers.

While Where The Heaven Are We isn’t a perfect debut album, it’s a solid effort, and there’s enough talent on display to hint at even better things to come.

They’re certainly a partnership and there’s lots of adventure here. Dizzy Heights is certainly as inspiring as anything Finn has produced for a long time.

Diploid Love doesn’t suck, but neither is it revolutionary.

Pissing Stars is by no means an easy listen but, if time is invested, amongst the heaviness and foreboding, rewards can be found. The world may be a bleak, troubling place at times, but Menuck continues to find salvation through his music.

This could well be Midlake's masterpiece, which is saying something considering the esteem in which The Trials Of Van Occupanther is held.

They are a group that exist solely to make abstruse, dark and head spinning noise. As such, Zeros accomplishes its goals very well.

Archie Bronson Outfit have hovered on the fringes of success for some time now, somehow never quite achieving the success that their critical acclaim would suggest they deserve. Coconut may be a bit too obtuse to change that, but it's a fascinating release; for those willing to explore beneath the seemingly obtuse surface, there's much to delight.

Punchy, playful and exhilarating, with Euphoric Georgia has regained her artistic verve.

My Old Familiar Friend seems to be an album with modest aspirations which, for the most part, it achieves.

All this variety and uncertainty does become a little wearing in places, and the vocals in particular often fail to live up to the music that accompanies them.

An underplayed, subtle triumph, but a victory nonetheless.

With this fun and obnoxiously reverent album, they should get the inmates rioting.

At various times uplifting, rocking, refreshing, and sweet, Oceania makes a return to the live arena a suddenly desirable prospect.

Poster Girl, although far from perfect, is an encouraging sign from Larsson, indicating her adventurous spirit and perhaps paving the way for future triumphs.

Seefeel is nowhere near the mountainous masterpiece of BoC's best records, but it's pulled off with a respectable professionalism. Richard D James would be proud.

While their vision may to many appear decidedly singular, the music itself is highly accessible and polished, and comes with a sense of being a carefully considered, fully fledged complete package.

Despite her talents, ultimately In Heaven feels like a bit of a disappointment, but a great album is still well within their abilities in the future if they ditch some of the kookiness and concentrate on their considerable strengths.