It’s a bold move for The Coral to come out with something so intricate at this stage of their career, even taking the time to pen an accompanying book. But immerse yourself in this heavily themed epic and you’ll be rewarded with a nostalgic trip that showcases some of their most adventurous writing to date.

Every sentiment on Novelist Guy is deeply felt.

I Speak Because I Can remains a stunning performance to leave haircuts and ex-boyfriends alike trailing in its wake.

Bold, brash and brilliant, this is Charli XCX at her most genuine, and it’s dazzling.

This is the sound of the US underground realising that its message is easier to swallow if it has a smile on its face. [9 Oct 2004, p.56]

‘The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte’ is a reminder that even now, Sparks are completely content with boldly going first, taking their music into ambitious territory no one else has been before, making it easier for other acts to (hopefully) follow suit.

I’m A Dreamer is another stellar effort.

A slippery, intoxicating listen. The production and songwriting feel looser and more experimental, liberated from the weight of carrying heavy narratives or nostalgia. When elements appear unfamiliar, Vynehall guides them into similar worlds like he’s just cracked the next piece of the puzzle.

The world of ‘Beatopia’ is finally in full bloom again as its creator embraces not only the vibrant colours of their own imagination, but the magic of letting the world in to see.

It’s a David Byrne album. Which is to say: it’s melodic, goofy and very quirky.

It’s her most mature, vivid work yet – and would be impressive from an artist of any age.

Only on ‘Nice To Be Dead’ does he veer into heavy guitar territory, but it fits seamlessly into the mix, making for not just his strangest set in years, but also his best.

‘SUGAREGG’ is confident and assured.

If you’re a fan of this stuff – powerful, bruising, operatic, performed with absolutely no sense of irony whatsoever – then there’s no question that Sabaton are amongst the best of the best. ... This is the album that could take Sabaton upwards.

Goswell's voice... is a rich wonder in itself; and unlike every other singer-songwriter in the world, she sounds nothing like Nick Drake! [26 Jun 2004, p.55]

[A] curiously eclectic record.

Whether dabbling in light or dark, the Nottingham trio are never anything short of exhilarating.

A demented, disjointed, delicious-as-human-rump-steak modern classic. [23 Oct 2004, p.49]

Just as ‘BE’ cycles through the various ever-changing moods the pandemic has made a constant in our lives, it’s also finds the band constantly moving between genres, each attempt a triumph.

At once experimental and familiar enough to keep his stunning second act on course, ‘C’mon You Know’ finds Liam Gallagher having his cake and eating it – and there’s plenty to go round at this party.

These are the sharper edges that Neil let out on Biffy’s earlier work, but elevated that the pure ultraviolence of Vennart’s songwriting and madcap riffery.

This long-awaited personal and artistic rebirth is channeled through unashamed euphoria on album highlights ‘Look At The Sky’ and ‘Something Comforting’ – two of the most uplifting yet tear-jerking songs you’re likely to hear this year.

Somehow, even after you know all the punchlines, the tunes are solid enough to still bear pressing ‘repeat’.

The production is slicker, the songwriting more considered, and the statement more solidified. Peppered with spoken-word interludes, Cashwan-Pratt laying himself bare like never before, Dog Whistle is a manifesto for everything Show Me The Body’s early days promised.

For all its glum pronouncements of murder, mortality and loss, it’s an ecstatic listen, ponderous party music.

The pairing of the gravelly vocals of 21-year-old Maryland rapper Rico Nasty with hyped DJ Kenny Beats’ unique production results in an addictive album.

Overall, he has created a musical representation of his upbringing in the Sunshine state, evoking its intricate culture. His mixture of smoother, dreamier beats in opposition with harder-hitting and chest-bouncing ones create an aural journey and explanation as to why he is “real-ass n***a from the 305”.

Every note of 'Rock Action' wins every fight they've ever started, touched with an imagination and awareness of the potential of sound that puts them so far up on the moral high ground they're almost lost in the clouds.

‘Source’ is a reflection of Nubya Garcia’s hometown; a mirror spotlighting London’s skilled musicians and a reminder of how thrilling this scene can be. The project’s urgency is baked in calming undertones, forcing listeners to be meditative and to connect, and a sense of rejuvenation, providing a call towards a larger sense of community.

Almost every part of it sounds sublime.

An album that’s rich musically, thematically and above all, emotionally. Sam Smith has never sounded better because they’ve never been more themselves.

What the south London quintet have made is an album full of delicious dream-pop.

While Hardwired... To Self-Destruct isn’t dissimilar in delivery to their last record, 2008’s ‘Death Magnetic’, Metallica still--in their fifties--remain both vital and innovative.

More. Again. Forever strikes a mature balance. It’s escapist in its sound but humane in its approach to the world. It’s experimental but familiar, and tests what the band are capable of while proving to be their more focussed work to date.

He’s the most successful former One Direction member with good reason, and this album is a high-water mark for the 25-year-old.

If 'Hats Off...' is slightly too much, too soon, they've still done enough to impress.

Though lacking standout tracks, this is an icy masterclass in how synths should sound.

Oblivion With Bells is less the comedown than the sound of the party still going 10 years on.

Largely, this is a set of songs that seep, creep and grow in strength, like opener ‘Aladdin’, ‘Time On Her Side’ and ‘Cave’.

Bass, horns, strings, organ and choir provide the backbone, and when Whitney allow themselves to kick it up a gear and really let rip, as on ‘Golden Days’ (with its cathartic “Na na na” outro) or the George Harrison-meets-The Band magnificence of ‘Dave’s Song’, they’re untouchable.

The Californian five-piece’s 14th album packs everything they’re good at into one concentrated effort: frenetic rock, pulsating psychedelia and buoyant melodies.

If ‘All Mirrors’ took you to a lavish, creaky ballroom, then ‘Whole New Mess’ tucks you away in the cupboard under the stairs, the door slammed tightly shut.

It’s the sound of all your messiest student rock nights packed into 39 breathless minutes.

One quibble is that Gossamer never really comes down off its Haribo rush, which gets exhausting. That said, when they do ease up, as on the boudoir-funk 'Constant Conversations', it resembles the two-a-penny synthpop that clogs the blogosphere.

A lot of Every Now And Then was recorded in the rural French studio they’ve compared to the doomed country retreat featured in cult comedy Withnail & I. And that fits, really, as the place this album had to have been made: somewhere haphazard and idiosyncratic, but weirdly brilliant.

If Beck gets better as he gets madder, this is definitely his best since 'Midnite Vultures' - maybe even since 'Odelay'.

The perfect entwining of brain and brawn. [9 Sep 2006, p.37]

Dougall relies too much on overly simplistic lyrics, and it gets a bit annoying.... But this is a minor flaw in what is otherwise a strong second album from a band in the ascendancy.

This is an album that delivers both mood and melody, thanks in no small part to Nagano.

Bagshaw’s tendency to spout arcane guff about the Odyssey, desert rituals, buried crystals and dancing on the stones is pure hippy mimicry. Sonically, though, this is a fresh and energised ’60s homage.

‘What A Devastating Turn Of Events’ – despite its slightly macabre title – is consistently charming, while offering enough range in sound and scope to hint at Chinouriri’s future ambitions. She has worked hard to make it sound this easy.

Nas doing exactly what he does best.

While their debut album favoured a shadowy and mystical aesthetic, For Ever makes for a far more personal affair.

Seriously brilliant stuff. ‘Send Them To Coventry’ promises that Salieu is unbelievably gifted with a ceiling nowhere in sight. He carries the entire mixtape with his singular voice oscillating between conventional rap flows, dancehall toasts and ice-cold venomous lyrics.

Far from making vague allusions to the events prior to Iridescence, Brockhampton lay them bare, atop some of their most adventurous work to date.

Mary J draws on an eventful life to reach new levels of feeling. [7 Jan 2006, p.29]

Pursuit of Momentary Happiness is excessive at times. From most other bands a swooning old-time ballad like ‘Encore’ and the slightly indulgent power-ballad ‘Words Fail Me’ would raise a big alarm. Somehow though, in Yak’s case they just about get away with it. Excess, after all, is how this record was created in the first place.

Public Strain is an album that invites you in and lets you at least stay for tea.

here are patches of sonic soup--‘Kenworth’ suffers from a particularly acute case of moaning flange--but overall, Cheatahs is a triumph of content over style: a gleaming pop wrecking ball taken to the sonic cathedral.

With the liberty of turning attention to new creative pathways, Williams has crafted one of their finest albums to date, this record an unshackled upping of the game.

The songs splatter unpredictably with little concern for cohesion, forming a whole that is emphatically unique.

This third LP is jumpy and beat-driven and banishes the memory of the dubstep scene he emerged from.

Less, in this case, is definitely more: The Beyond is his best work to date.

America is a profound statement; splicing Fuck Buttons with Sigur Rós in a state-of-the-union address balanced between hope, despair and an accomplished collision of strings, brass, soaring choirs and beats.

Oberst’s evocative character studies add intrigue throughout.

If these guys don't have the loftiest ambitions ever, it needn't matter when The Agent Intellect makes post-punk feel like purest rock'n'roll.

The resulting album is a total knockout.

There’s no jolting shock-of-the-new: there’s just reassuringly here, refining what they they do best.

Crazy as a second Gorillaz B-sides album might sound, this rummage through the "Demon Days" cutting room floor is totally justified.

It’s definitely in need of a more brutal edit: the 18-song tracklist is a little bloated and some songs such as ‘Don’t Go Hungry’ (which features Labrinth doing his best Weeknd impression) are pretty forgettable. However, there are enough bangers on here to keep you hitting the replay button, with Giggs’ unique vocal delivery never anything but interesting. He sounds ready to reign for a long time yet.

In ‘Seeking New Gods’, Gruff Rhys has yet again crafted another pop gem of an album.

It’s their finest collection of songs to date.

If 'The Green Album' was the charming bouquet to apologise for not calling for five years, 'Maladroit' is the rigorous porking in the back of a second-hand Fiesta we've been gagging for since 1996. It's almost as if Rivers cares about music again.

In ploughing a unique furrow in pop music, he demands your enjoyment as much as your respect.

There’s sure to be filler across 25-tracks. However, when Ty is at his best, he soars vocally and continues to prove that he is both a hook and melody juggernaut.

There really ain't anyone bringing the world party quite like LV.

The sound of a pioneer who refuses to stop innovating. [8 Oct 2005, p.45]

The high-tempo, energetic sounds throughout match Ahmed’s razor-sharp lyrics and fast-paced rhymes. The use of South Asian instrumentation – especially the Qawwali harmonies – grounds the production. It takes an unconventional approach, but the ‘The Long Goodbye’ manages to distill complex topics with fervour.

‘Hellfire’ delivers more musical thrills and about-turns per minute than few other records we’ve heard this year. Sounding more assured of their creative agility than ever before, ‘Hellfire’ is the work of a very special group of alchemists.

While the title track and ‘Belong’ also simmer with a caustic but expansive electro pulse, it’s not all dark and mechanical--there’s equally as much humanity and light. ‘Cold’ is a U2-worthy triumph, begging for fields of swaying arms and lighters aloft, while ‘Darkness At The Door’ is the closest Editors have and probably will ever come to an ‘80s power ballad--and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

You’ll love it, or you’ll hate it, you’ll have no idea what’s going on, but revel in the fact that a debut like this is allowed to exist.

July is a career high.

This pared down approach will likely disappoint some fans who hoped to hear final contributions from vocalists Champion, Joba, Merlyn Wood and Dom McLennon. But this is Abstract’s moment to write the final Brockhampton chapter, and it’s heavy on the confessions.

‘Blush’ shows the work of a songwriter who, even as something of a rookie, can command your attention and emotions with the most effortless of lines and make you consider your own life and relationships with the gentle encouragement of a close friend. Hold ‘Blush’ close – it’s a special one.

Goldfrapp inject more than enough of the 21st century into what they do to avoid being thoughtless rip-off merchants.

What lies beneath is frequently glorious, especially in the second half, where rolling, Afrobeat-infused rhythms underpin their best work.

What Muse have done is re-establish themselves as a respected British institution by being fun.

This expansion of sound is also put together with the kind of meticulousness that makes Transit Transit doubly compelling.

Sharp and powerful.

A dazzling debut ready to win the world’s hearts.

Versatility is the key here: staccato beats with mellifluous melody, rich slow-jams and edgy harmonies - but woven through with Usher's own perspective. A winner.

There’s more to this record than excited confidence and a hunger for adventure, though. It’s not just the spotlight this gang need. It’s connection.

Aside from some uninspired, though pretty acoustica (‘Someone Else’s Trees’, ‘Laundry And Jet Lag’), ‘BREACH’ is a stellar progression overall. Lily’s lurch to zestier compositions is a welcome divergence.

Despite Thom Yorke's assertions that 'Amnesiac' stands alone, it complements 'Kid A' so beautifully, develops it with such conviction, that the idea Radiohead ever cut themselves off to spite their fans suddenly seems irredeemably churlish.

On ‘It’s All Smiles’, No Rome has created an immersive world that envelopes you like a warm hug and urges you to let it all out – whether happy or sad. It might have taken a while to get to us, but an album with that effect is often worth the wait; Rome’s debut most certainly is.

Like it or not, the songs penned for Britney by Swedish producer Max Martin, the man behind the even more successful Backstreet Boys, get into your brain like ketamine.

Get lost in the haze.

In Masseduction we already have both Dorian and his portrait: the fox on the album’s cover, all rampant neons, stockinged legs, and taut flesh, and the inner ravaging--material just too good to keep in the attic.