It’s difficult to shake the feeling that the likes of the upbeat ‘Brass Locket’ or the barely-there ‘Hunting Dog’ that this is territory Regan has already long since claimed, and that as good as he is at it, the law of diminishing returns is bound to kick in eventually. Instead, what we need more of is the likes of ‘Glaciers’, all implied menace and thick atmospherics.

It means that AOKOHIO never quite feels as cohesive as Wolf apparently intended it to be, so it’s a good job that the album’s emotional themes do such a good job of providing a throughline and backbone instead.

Unfortunately, none of the later tracks hit with the same urgency as the first few. The album is a fun listen, still, and one that encapsulates that Polaroid summer we’re all after.

Not so much Marika 3.0 as the Marika who was always there, but tougher, stronger and more triumphant than ever.

There’s no faux-earnestness here. Whether Mabel is singing about messy break ups, mental health or empowering herself to move on, High Expectations is effortlessly cool.

Sans-visual accompaniment the album can feel meandering and unfocused. Fortunately, the experimental production and dark atmosphere are compelling in their own right, and ‘Anima’ is ultimately a trip down the rabbit hole worth taking.

With a buoyant and self-aware use of slang that will have you opening up Urban Dictionary, paired with the one-track-per-week release schedule and the songs to back it up, Kim proves herself to be a true millennial pop princess in waiting.

It’s as close an approximation of before as they could possibly get - the result of 12 tracks being plopped out of a Black Keys song generator - but, five years down the line, you hope that people will demand more than that.

A decade on from the pained remoteness of For Emma, Forever Ago, i,i holds the same intimacy and urgency, elevated by years of groundbreaking experimentation.

An album that finds the prodigious artist enjoying himself yet again.

‘Bad Things (That Make You Feel Good)’ sounds like a sped-up take on wholesome pop king Bleachers, while opener ‘Should Be Dancing’ features a half-arsed attempt at pal Alex Turner’s croon. ... A little more humour on Mini Mansions’ third, and they might’ve been able to pull it off.

Dude York are doing absolutely nothing new on Falling, but when they do it this well, the throwback is a welcome one.

There are a couple of fleeting moments (the chorus of ‘Wait’ is a hooky, soaring thing) that remind you of the unabashed earworms that the Kaisers can produce at their best but, for the most part, Duck is actually a bit of a turkey.

Channelling zeitgeisty pop is by no means always a bad thing; but when omitting the earwormy choruses it needs - and removing your own personality in the process, it’s only ever going to fall a bit limp.

Emotional Education is a thoughtful, carefully-constructed synthpop odyssey, based at its core around the vocal harmonisation by Lily Somerville and Megan Marwick and lent some tasteful gloss by production work from The xx collaborator Rodaidh McDonald as well as duo MyRiot.

The musical accompaniment to the installation works perfectly as a concept album, where heady instrumentals and psychedelic pop nuggets are intertwined with swelling strings and a nursery rhyme story narrated by The Clash’s Mick Jones.

A People’s History of Gauche captures both the rotten societal traits and inspiring persistence that is often associated with people on the ground.

While their new guise has them in a more experimental mood - injecting doses of nostalgia all over the shop - it also doesn’t quite possess the same level of clout as before.

It’s rough around the edges, but that’s part of its charm - a testament to the energy and ideas thrown about in such a short space of time, and the vibrancy of collaboration.

Until The Tide Creeps In is a record totally out of step with any modern music scene, and all the more timeless and special for it.

[The off-trend songs like Alaska, Sawzall and Hawaiian Mazes] feel freer, more exciting and more innovative. But III isn’t that. Instead, for the most part, it feels like Banks-by-numbers.

Stonechild is an exercise in top-level songwriting, stately and intelligent.

Endlessly creative and euphoric, the MacGyvers of music have created a record that’s not only politically charged, but brimming with the joys of life and creativity.

The result sees Plague Vendor’s ferocious punk swirl around explosions of synth and thunderous electronic drums, a combination that ultimately propels their ever-present homage to classic sounds into the present day.

A record that barely takes its foot off the gas pedal. This onslaught would make even the most hardcore listener flinch. Bring earplugs.

Small Mercies is not a complete success, but Pixx’s creative voice remains unique.

If you’re partial to a bit of blue-collar punk, this is likely to be right up your street.

Two Door Cinema Club have learnt how to harness their mainstream power while taking creative risks. They pay off almost every time.