This second album finds them in incendiary form.

Only the didactic, Jessie J-esque I Had a Dream mars an album loaded with laser-guided, heartfelt pop.

Hey’s attempt at menace is overegged and the violence just sounds cartoonish--but the abundance of winning songs elsewhere makes such minor flaws forgivable.

It feels like he’s aiming for a 21st-century version of classic albums such as Sign ‘O’ the Times and What’s Going On and, on astonishing, soul-scraping laments This World Is Drunk and Kings Fall, he almost gets there.

Quite how Murphy manages to turn all this sombreness into a great LCD album defies logic, but he has landed on his feet, yet again.

Both comforting and discomfiting, The Best Day recalls prime Youth, when their tense experimental attitude dovetailed with often sour but instantly accessible pop melodies.

Full of unexpectedly bittersweet horns and electric guitar, his mellow confidence here eschews clutter and bombast.

Recalling her early experimental work, while hoovering up dance genres at will, KicK iii is imbued with a joyous sense of freedom.

Lush, cavernous record.

A hushed, thoughtful collection.

All of this is delivered with upbeat charm and wry humour; pedal steel solos don’t so much sweeten these pills as dunk them in a vat of serotonin.

Pearson wears her talents lightly on an album that allows space for them to breathe. Sound of the Morning is a remarkably mature record; hopefully, future releases will be just as absorbing.

Vocally, the “queen of Latin music” isn’t particularly distinctive, but she ranges from seductive to strident in a single line and makes both equally appealing. Her Majesty’s moods are despondent (rare), thirsty (much less rare) or proudly powerful (nearly always) and she ensures you’re buffeted by every emotion billowing past.

Almost everything else, however, is a treat, the successive iterations of Communication Breakdown and Dazed… showcasing the evolving chemistry of one of Britain’s greatest ever bands.

On paper, its influences--surf punk, Prince, oriental pop, minimalist dance--smack of hipster posturing, but on record, they blend beautifully.

The resulting album is rich in imagination, and--at times, most notably on Bull and Brando--surprisingly accessible

Allelujah! picks up where Montreal's premier apocalyptic instrumental outfit left off, setting the collapse of the first world to wordless music.

If… is a joy, its 10 mostly instrumental tracks proving both intimate and powerful.

Like previous Jay Som records, Anak Ko might seem slight at first listen, particularly Duterte’s winsome coo, but the payoff for lingering in her evolving dreamspace is hefty.

A master musician on top of his game.

Georgia turns everyday emotions into exotic and enticing vignettes.

Rustie's hyper-enjoyable second album derives its title and some odd peacefulness from an unlikely source: birdsong, aka the green language, which was to medieval mystics the perfect mode of expression.

The results are frequently exquisite.

The mood is open and playful.

The standout track is Cruel Disguise, where Harvieu’s melancholy, powerful vocal combines with a lithe bassline and baroque rock stylings. And while the singer may no longer be flavour of the month, this is still an impressive set.

Half wallow, half messy I-don’t-need-you self-care, Sour is the perfect first breakup soundtrack from a hugely promising new talent.

Her strange, fluting voice twines elegantly around sparse arrangements of piano, acoustic guitar and the charango lute.

There is no right way to grieve, but it feels as though shock and sorrow have only made Sleater-Kinney seize their day and prioritise.