A smattering of other tracks aside (including the lush groove of ‘Getting Closer’ and the funk-jazz fanfare of ‘Love Is Everywhere’), this collection doesn’t fully provide catharsis nor connection.

He’s managed to morph his frustrations of the world into engaging and frantic material that packs serious spirit. Yet another album we’ll have to wait to see live.

Yusuf now far more believably inhabiting the role of the kindly dad offering his offspring life advice, while ‘On The Road To Find Out’ showcases the most impressive transformation, weaving in North African desert sounds against steadfast lyrics of self-discovery. It suggests that Yusuf has now finally found just what he was looking for all those years ago.

A record that otherwise skids wildly across art-rock history leaving steaming tyre tracks in its wake.

Although it can be overblown, Sean’s passion is unreserved here, the record peppered with Instagram-worthy captions that urge listeners to take inspiration from their surroundings while keeping friends and family close.

It hasn’t completely reinvented the wheel for Hurts, nor has it allowed them to rest on old habits. Instead, it presents them at their most open – and in age of isolation, there’s much to admire in that.

It isn’t even that the songs are bad – it’s worse than that: they’re largely forgettable. Gone are the pithy couplets and catchier-than-a-rash hooks, replaced with lacklustre imitations.

Though often overpowering and, by the end of the record, a little wearing, this palette provides a consistent buoyancy and energy – and there are plenty of times when The Maytals turn it to their advantage.

The track list lurches, rather than blends seamlessly, and on the spacey ‘This World’ she plays with an atonal vocal line (and the admittedly great lyric “you little prick – what do you know?”) that typifies her preference for experimentalism over accessibility. Even so, Moolchan remains as singular – and sophisticated – as ever.

The ideas in ‘Songs For The General Public’ are rich, creative and often funny, but its musical staying power is lacking.

It’s admirable to see him balance his signature sound with hints of exploration in collaborations such as ‘Monsters You Made’, all while remaining true to his mother tongue.

It quickly grows dreary when there’s not a knowing smirk to match the intensity.

This is an album that can and should be enjoyed without over-thinking.

Fans of their debut won’t be surprised by anything on here, but Kllo’s dexterous variations on a theme should win them over regardless.

Although ‘B7’ could probably benefit from an injection of tempo from time to time, as well as a little trimming – the granular ‘High Heels’, where Brandy raps under her Bran’Nu alias, disrupts the album’s more refined moments – it mostly thrives, thanks to her unwavering resilience, the unique texture of her vocals and the stellar production courtesy of DJ Camper, Lonnie Smalls II and the late LaShawn Daniels.

‘Such Pretty Forks…’ might not be flawless, but in that way, it’s true to Morissette’s depiction of life – something that’s often messy and tough, but worth sticking with.

It’s not something you’ll be hankering to press play on repeatedly. Not that it’s bad music: excuse the pretension, but it really is an experience; one that would lend itself better to accompanying Jaar’s physical art installations than a standard album listen.

While they’re not bringing anything musically innovative to the table, they’ve re-packaged the sounds in a way that feels distinctly 21st Century. It’s extremely good fun and presented without pretence – and that feels like enough.

The first quarter of the album is a soothing ode to an immense talent gone too soon. But soon the record starts to sprawl and spiral.

The irony of ‘Jump Rope Gazers’ is that as The Beths push themselves to do something different for album number two, they actually end up with the sonic sameness that the first record miraculously avoided. Only now do they sound like they could just be any other band.

A tighter and more compact project would have elevated some of the album’s more enlightening moments, but, when taken as a whole, ‘Modern Dread’ ultimately disappoints.

Nelson’s [voice] still boasts a lightness of touch. He might be a soulful elder statesman, but there’s a perkiness to his version of cult outlaw songwriter Billy Joe Shaver’s 1981 track ‘We Are The Cowboys’, which celebrates the multiculturalism of the American cowboy.

While musically not as memorable or gripping as we’ve heard from Simz previously, the stripped-back nature does play to Simz’s strength as a very relatable MC, drawing greater attention instead to her rapid-fire rhymes, earworm hooks and thoughtful turns of phrase.

‘Shadow Offering’ is an intriguing, if slightly scattered, listen.

There are sparks of brilliance on ‘Love, Death & Dancing’; Garratt’s multifaceted talent is undeniable and his honesty is admirable. But, please, less is more next time.

This isn’t a country album at all; rather it’s an excuse for Diplo to wear some razzle-dazzle Nudie Cohn-style suits and fancy cowboy hats.

It wouldn’t be a Deerhoof album if there wasn’t a barrage of unexpected riffs, squeals and feedback littered across most tracks, as well as a few madcap lyrical excursions.

Despite its glimpses of greatness, though, this album revisits too many of the rapper’s trademark themes to truly make good on his jubilant pre-release promises.