Both playful and powerful in its delivery, ‘Kitchen Sink’ may be built around the challenges so many of us still face - and are angered by - on a near-daily basis, but it also offers a bit of light and - most importantly - liberating relief.

The singer-songwriter’s most comprehensive release to date, turns up the production slickness while sacrificing none of his affable, boyish charm.

There’s an expert tenderness to her stories and their delivery, one cut through by often-unexpected melodic switches. Her ability to hold back, to seemingly cut a track short, brims with confidence.

Much of Cavetown’s fifth album is as one would expect. ... However then arrives ‘a kind thing to do’ - featuring Pierce The Veil’s Vic Fuentes - which plays with punk-pop revival tropes in captivating ways.

‘Loud Without Noise’ is flawless. Wildly ambitious, it works to showcase perfectly why the Merseysiders have garnered such a fervent fanbase to date – and just how far they could go.

This stylistic clusterfuck is likely to satisfy those who gobbled up Crack Cloud’s similarly ambitious shift to expansive instrumentation. And if you’re just downright confused by the whole preposterous thing, that’s probably just fine too.

For a project that could have held unreasonable expectations, it overdelivers time and time again. Both parts of the duo are on their A-game in equal parts.

Just as the record threatens to get Too Much, as ‘How Do You Sleep Tonight’ wrings out its last notes, the crowning glory that is ‘Tonite’ kicks in.

The band’s trademark sampledelic sound provides a tasteful glimpse of the familiar, while also sidestepping overt pastiche, remaining consistently fresh throughout.

With PUNK, CHAI have defied all expectations, decreeing that everybody to them is cute--and they don’t need to be.

PVRIS might have been to hell and back, but a new era is here, and it’s utterly brilliant.

Despite all the doubts and the self-admonishing, in a strange way you won’t find a more affirming album all year.

These 14 tracks are so sonically rich with a multitude of textures, each listen peeling back just one measly layer; Molly’s vocal hooks and turns of phrase will remain in your brain days after the last listen.

At 15 tracks long, he occasionally falters under the weight of his own abundance, but there are so many great sweets in the pick’n’mix bag that you don’t really mind the odd underwhelming chew.

Ultimately, there’s a charming purity that runs through ‘New Long Leg’, and a sense that Dry Cleaning wasn’t the product of a masterplan. Instead it’s the by-product of the lives they were already leading which gives an uncompromising human quality to this debut.

The Underside Of Power is heavy going, but completely, necessarily so.

‘Happier Than Ever’, then, is not just a triumph in progressing a signature sound into new territories, but a lesson in how to own your reality with confidence and class.

To call untitled unmastered a follow-up would be unfair, but what it reveals is that rap’s most innovative has a lot more left in his locker.

It’s novelistic. It’s smart. Of course it is, it’s a Destroyer album.

Both heavy and cumbersome and light and uncertain, it will prove difficult for some to find an entrance to it, but once you’re inside you’ll find yourself enveloped by its bold experimentation and the stunning way they execute it.

It starts with a slow drip and builds to a raging flood. It’s irresistible and so eloquently convincing that despite their claims of failure, Protomartyr are unstoppable.

They may be using Morbid Stuff to face their demons head on, but there’s a sense of reckless abandon to the whole thing that makes it entirely freeing.

It’s uncompromising yet nonetheless inventive, with eccentric flows and inspired production choices.

‘I Inside the Old Year Dying’ will likely take some time to fully unravel, but on the surface, it looks like a daring return.

On all fronts, with ‘Daddy’s Home’, St Vincent has delivered spectacularly.

‘The Overload’ lives up to its hype with flying colours. Brilliantly constructed to unfurl like some sordid soap opera of Brexit Britain, it brims with vignettes populated by instantly-recognisable caricatures of the now.

It’s musical exorcism at its very best, rallying against socially-imposed doubt and anxiety and - in its unique horror - finding welcome moments of inner peace.

A dystopian, focused pessimism that sounds (unfortunately) exactly like the world outside, but doesn’t sound quite like another band on the planet. A perfect soundtrack to nagging doubts and creeping realisations.