The growth Lucy Rose has experienced since her debut album is self-evident, she tackles universal feelings with unmistakable poetry, and while at times the album can feel drowned out, the overall feeling is one of understanding.

Nilüfer Yanya has managed to produce an album which flits from one template to the next, yet at no time is there a tendency to feel that this is contrived and neither does it suggest an artist scrabbling around for an identity and an audience which then comes with it. These shifts in style always feel controlled, as though the song demands them.

Whether it be pushing past the anxieties of sitting still with no particular sense of home, both in a figurative and literal sense, or even the bittersweet memories of failed relationships, Peck’s desires are timeless and unveiled for all to cherish and cry to.

Progression is a funny word; in some ways La Dispute are the antithesis of progression, they’re more a freeze-frame of the moments and memories we try to get away from. This ability to cherry-pick these moments and refine them to poems told in a desperate, choked-back, strained delivery is the genius of La Dispute, and the reason they are now one of the pivotal post-hardcore bands of the last decade.

Karen O and Danger Mouse have a story to tell on Lux Prima; though not a traditional concept album, it does create a luscious portrayal of a small blinding light in the seemingly infinite dark.

The result is a mixed bag of songs with which the group continue to earn their moniker, through moody orchestral pop pieces adorned with the group’s signature electronics, but we’re left wondering whether the soundtrack might have been more interesting.

At its core, Death Race for Love feels less like music and more like a cynical attempt to bring out the worst in both emo and rap.

Mushonga’s take on music is globe-trotting and (as per the title) galaxy-spanning. Though it runs the gamut of Afropop, chamber pop, and synthpop, the intention never feels like subgenres are being ticked off. This is soul music, literally and figuratively.

Unafraid to delve into their every whim, from the accomplished to the adventurous to the absurd, CHAI are just about as now as you can get without stumbling into the unrealized.

SASAMI feels like a warm friend you haven’t seen in years, ready to reflect on life: how you’d hoped it’d be, and how it is. It doesn’t feel so bad when you’re together.

The blemishes on Rap or Go to the League don’t change the fact that every single song has at least something great about it, which you can’t say about most 50-minute+ rap albums, let alone one made by someone who’s been around as long as 2 Chainz has.

Beware of the Dogs is a wonderful debut album from a luminous young talent.

The band still show the glimmer of potential they’ve always carried, and it’s nice to know that consistency is possible with the band. ‘Doctor’s In' ends with an abrupt fadeout, and your memory of Tasmania can depart at a similarly unsatisfying rate.

Good Fruit is an album that wears its emotions on its sleeve, but never overplays them. Far from insistent, it’s perfectly pleased to offer just what you need, and nothing more. Take from it what you will.

If, after an absence of 19 years, you are happy to engage with a band who are reprising much of their musical and lyrical themes whilst also dipping their toes into unexplored (and poorly realised) terrain, then no doubt there is much within White Stuff which will tick all of the appropriate boxes. But, oh man, that Kool Keith track.

With The Black Album, Weezer once again sounds insufferably uncomfortable with the notion of aging by devising the musical equivalent of getting hair plugs. ... A compilation of tracks lacking in quality and spat out at the end of a conveyer belt.

Throughout the album we’ve been bathed in guitars and subtle synths, giving the music a hazy immaterial feeling, as if we truly are embedded within the shifting thoughts an overly-active mind.

While at times the overall production and heavy effects can take away from the impact, Good at Falling is ultimately a work of emotions. The album perfectly represents what people go through while trying to hold on to relationships, knowing they should let go.

So many tracks slip through your consciousness, particularly with how much he sticks to the formula of chorus/verse/chorus/verse/chorus. His dullness sucks the life out of typically energetic guests like Playboi Carti, whose feature is less Die Lit and more Diluted.

Moves the bar considerably higher from their brilliant debut album of 2017 Come Play the Trees.

On the basis of Pump’s youth and energy, it’s a mostly enjoyable listen, but those are traits not at all unique to him, and it’s hard to feel optimistic about how much longevity he has. After all, he’s not getting any younger.

Throughout Lung Bread For Daddy, Du Blonde sounds as if she is constantly on the verge of losing grip of her emotional and mental torment, but because she weaves her feelings and contemplates the woes of her life like someone three times her age, Du Blonde’s latest offering emits surprising clarity and winds up as her most refined work to date.

Many a songwriter has tortured themselves to twist and turn these experiences into new metaphorical shapes, but Jacklin has resisted. By laying out her honest realities in plain sight, she has not only allowed herself to heal, but she has offered a healing process to others.

Spelling continuously reinvents herself and her sound. What at first listen may turn many off bears repeated listening, through the often terrifying kaleidoscope of sound is a melodic pop centre.

I’ve listened to Other People’s Lives more than ten times and I honestly couldn’t say definitively what I think. It’s very good. It’s very familiar. If this is what they can do on a debut, who knows where they can go?

The music here may float into the ear canal, but Emily King is anything but feather light. She crafts what can only be called humane pop, and it seeks to understand. Gentle music that, should you let your guard down, may just leave you stunned.

Though side A is a mess, it at least sounds like a mostly-original mess. On the latter half, they seem to say “fuck it” and just go for plagiarism, in whole or in part.

Unfurl is much like RY X’s previous record Dawn, though tinged with moments of evolution. Lined with a rawness that could be sometimes overlooked; it seems to find solace in giving an emotional response to me from its creation.