Unexpected, indulgent, and an absolute joy, ‘Metronomy Forever’ is a prophecy to get behind.

Lewd, bulshy, and gaudier than a kitsch ornaments warehouse with a sprung glitter pipe, Rub is a return to form, and hideously brilliant, garish good fun.

Sincerely, Future Pollution is in some ways a perfect representation of our conflicted, uncertain times, but it also makes the record a challenging, uncompromising listen.

Holding Hands With Jamie remains an untamed beast that’ll pave the way for Girl Band’s unstoppable ascent. There remains a nagging feeling, however, that this deadly work could’ve forced an apocalypse if delivered with more conviction.

Throughout the record, Fenne provides a poignant glimpse into the uncertainty surrounding your whole life changing in front of you.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’

For every moment of devastating weariness, there are several moments of chilling beauty and it is this which keeps the band from being overly oppressive in its sound.

Frontwoman Lili Trifilio describes ‘Honeymoon’ as an ode to spontaneity, and it’s in certain abundance on an album that finds the Chicagoan outfit entering a state of pent-up rapture. The band roam without a care, sporadic laid-back moments gelled with raucous vitality - a sensitive chemistry which Beach Bunny absolutely nail.

For the most part, though, what ‘Path of Wellness’ signifies is Sleater-Kinney pulling away from their past, towards an era likely to lean heavily not just on their pop sensibilities, but on the move beyond the old push-and-pull relationship between the now-duo - a songwriting bond once defined by their differences has given way to a seamless understanding.

‘The Love Invention’ runs the gamut of immediate, dancefloor-ready electro-pop with style.

A fifth album u-turn that few could pull off, Boy King is the sound of a band reborn. The core elements are all still there--that falsetto-baritone play-off between vocalists Hayden Thorpe and Tom Fleming as prominent as ever--but they’re glitched-up and garbled.

Opener ‘Happen To Me’ has echoes of The Japanese House’s introspection, and the acoustic nature of ‘Same Effect’ and ‘A Little While’ bear more than a passing similarity to Billie Eilish’s quieter moments. Add to that the cosign of alt-pop foremothers Lily Allen (‘Plain’) and Grimes (‘Sheesh’) and BENEE’s on to a winner.

The album suffers from a few rough patches, but Geese have freed themselves from all expectations, which is a rare feat for a second album, and worthy of praise.

The visceral imagery and headlines that ushered in Suicide Songs ends up serving to hold it back a little; an album that’s excellent at times, but which arrived with preconceptions so strong that could never be matched.

With a stark lyrical dexterity and deliciously noodling guitar riffs, the album is torn between crippling sentiment and stark detachment.

‘Music’ is clean listening at its finest. The formula works well but that doesn’t mean the LP is lacking in surprises.

Underlining everything is a sense that he’s playing to his musical strengths, both in terms of the way he incorporates so many aspects of his sonic calling card; droll lyricism, field recordings, off-kilter melodies, and a general sense that he’s having the analog and the electronic meet at deliberately awkward junctures - making it all the more impressive when, counterintuitively, the kind of clashes that define ‘Nightmare Scenario’ or ‘Starlight’ actually work strikingly well.

Come LP3, maybe they’ll reinvent themselves as a more wholesome proposition; for now, ‘Welfare Jazz’ stands as a document of a band that are perhaps more in limbo than they might first appear.

This is an album of climaxes and cathartic streams of consciousness, but an album listenable from start to finish.

Where Westerman’s debut suffers is in its consistency: there’s such a distinctive sonic palette that, within a batch of tracks whose tempo never steps past ‘mid’, it’s hard for individual offerings to always stand out. But really he’s done the hard work; now Westerman’s defined his niche, all he has to do is refine it a little.

By the closing moments of the eery ‘Monolith’, it all becomes clear: this is love, but through the unmistakable eyes of IDLES.

After years of the slow build, the release is here. Believe the hype.

‘star-crossed’ mirrors the pain of a breakup, from turbulence through heartbreak to hope and self-acceptance. It’s here where she fully embraces Nashville storytelling. Far from spinning distant, third-person tales, each track feels incredibly personal.

‘All or Nothing’ is a grand refinement of their previous work, rather than a reinvention. Still retained is that amazing sense of propulsion and momentum the group have made their own; ‘Initiative’ and ‘Body Clock’ are impossibly fast, constantly threatening to overbalance themselves, yet always remaining resolute and gloriously intact.

While the album may find itself guilty of treading the line of pretty-but-unassuming at times - the sheer beauty of every detail is impressive, if not a little tiring - ‘Time’s Arrow’ remains a sumptuous listen.

Eclectic almost to an extreme, Baio combines reckless abandon with infectious introspection to create something entirely, captivatingly new.

A clear adoration for 90s bands doesn’t stop Return to Love from being an extremely strong album from 2016, and an undoubted step up.

Old Fears makes for a fascinating record, evolving gradually from start to finish and yet doing so in a way subtle enough so as to never jar nor stand out.