Formation’s greatest achievement is not just in making a floorfiller record with genuine variety and depth, but that All The Powerful People sounds entirely, only like them.

Messy, complicated, capable of star turns, it’s clearly a record Gonzalez needed to get out of his system.

At times, No Tourists feels like a companion to their debut. That was the night out and this is the morning after’s hangover. While this isn’t vintage Prodigy, it gets pretty damn close and gives hope there is still life in the old dog yet.

You can't help have a smile on your face when you listen to the excellent harmonious vocals of 'Sore Tummy', featuring Alice Costelloe, or the hilarious lyrics of the riff-tastic 'Pony'.

The fact that Words To The Blind doesn’t really make any kind of conventional sense, though, is perhaps the point of the entire endeavour. On their own terms Bo Ningen and Savages have succeeded.

An album trying to survive under the harshest conditions, Angel Guts: Red Classroom is a properly thrilling listen.

A bit of a mixed bag.

Idiots is the wonderful sound of The Electric Soft Parade belatedly coming of age.

Echolocation is a bleak affair, but it does have a number of impressive melodies and a clear sense of the liberation that music elicits in the band itself.

There are moments that long for something that once was, but those moments are fleeting. In its own terms, PersonA is largely an impressive album but there’s still some way to go yet.

Positivity has no bounds, and in Galore this London duo has successfully created a prescription for crummy moods, rain soaked commutes and even the slightest hint of misery.

Fixion is not a traditionally cohesive record. It does not flow as whole, in fact it is all over the place, joined only by a sense of sonic darkness. But for a chameleon like Trentemøller, creativity is his cohesion, formula the enemy--and this is his most creative, experimental record yet.

‘Hanoi 4’ is a driving, groove-led funk workout, while ‘Hanoi 5’ pits all kind of warped gurgles against a nocturnal jazz saxophone. They’re stranger, more direct beasts without the foil of Ruban’s soft vocal and often all the more ominous for it.

They’re an easy punchline, in fairness--perennial whipping boys, probably deserving of a break at some point--but when they continue to churn out nonsensical self-parody, Red Hot Chili Peppers’ continued stratospheric success is nothing short of baffling.

Endless Flowers is an amazing effort that deserves a place at the top of its genre. This album deserves to be heard and loved. Do yourself a favour and get yourself a copy once it hits the stores.

As has become customary for The Leisure Society, Hemming's lyrics and gift for storytelling once again stand out, his wonderful couplets and warm voice helping to lift many of the weaker moments here above torpor.

What it lacks perhaps in originality, it certainly more than delivers in getting, keeping and rewarding the listener's attention.

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

Overtly joyous and bulging with emotions both past and present, this album displays Best Coast at their most content.

Dignan Porch are slightly less effective at a less sprightly pace, veering too close to the point of collapse on 'And Are Now Not', but this is a fine exercise in pearly, bleary eyed acid pop.

Crusher has a way of alternating organically between pop songs and darker stuff without sounding inconsistent.

While the form may feel familiar (think: a glitch-pop kissing cousin to Rufus Wainwright’s days as a balladeer, or a soft-shoe version of Patrick Wolf’s orchestral manoeuvres) a promising left-of-centre choice sets Fyfe apart from the pack of crooners.

All the right ingredients are there, but the recorded format makes it fall short it from becoming a flowing, cohesive album.

The record spans from spoken word to ‘70s funk and ‘80s glam rock, dabbling in balladry and power pop. It may not be the most polished or serious piece of art to emerge from the pandemic, but it’s impossible to deny the sheer amount of personality and unashamed frivolity bubbling out of ‘Transparency’.

His voice is stunning, a far-reaching, emotive vibrato evoking Roy Orbison that keeps the often surface-level nature of his lyrics from reaching full saccharine.

This album is dizzyingly uplifting, as camp as a weekend at Butlins and effortlessly iridescent.

They might not have returned to their hardcore roots, but Ceremony have veered off into an abyss of misery of despair again, and they’re back on track because of it.

A long time coming, the record is fully worth the wait, Dominic flexing his musical muscles in a genre-blending debut that sees him dip his toes into rap, hip hop, pop, rock, emo, and more. A sure-to-be-beloved album amongst Gen Z-ers.

This isn’t a band going through the motions, it’s a band going through a violent and explosive rebirth, a return to form that’s almost unparalleled.

You Can Do Better is a perfect execution of a well thought out plan.

For the most part he minimally relies on keys and strings, but the effect creates a much more powerful setting and as a result, it's difficult not to be dragged into it.

Unusually consistent while still admirably varied, Chaosmosis is one of the early delights of the year.

There is a willful lack of originality on the album in so much as at times it has such a faithful synth-pop sound that you'd be forgiven for thinking it's a 1980s reissue.

Whilst work on Radiohead’s ninth album may soon become priority, the assurance with which this album has been constructed shows that this is no trivial side project.

Specter At The Feast runs out of steam before it runs out of songs. Not a terrible album, just one lacking in inspiration.

The strength of All We Need is in how he filters the madness into a slick, easy-flowing record. If one album changed his life, he’s taken that knowledge to make something intentionally cohesive.

For every track that falls short, there is another where they hit a sweet spot.

By recycling the same guitar and drum effects, it comes across as a poor man’s reworking of ‘Broke Me In Two.’ That only leaves you desperately wanting to return to the gems that frontload this curiously unbalanced album.

Gone are the house influences that underpinned his 2016 debut, and in are scratchy demo-sounding guitars, crisp production and gorgeous flourishes of string arrangements. House still lives on in some of the beat arrangements, although it’s presented through more natural-sounding drums which, when stacked against the lo-fi instrumentals, births something fresh and inspired.

Intimate and involving doesn’t necessarily mean that the record is engaging, however, and some tracks wash over without an impression, ultimately making this feel like little more than an indulgent side-project.

This is a feel-good hug of an album, which will transport you to the care-free, peace and love West Coast in a matter of minutes.

Gallery is an enjoyable offering from Craft Spells.

It’s definitely a progression from her last album into a more profound and polished sound.

It’s a charming and defiant debut, and one that encapsulates the GIRLI mindset, heartbreaks and all.

There’s a solid background of obviously skilled musicianship on fifth LP ‘One Man Band’, but even on the snarl of ‘Never Taking Me Alive’, it all feels very safe.

It's a strong album and shows once and for all that Paul Banks doesn't need Interpol, Interpol needs him.

Megaplex is a bright and breezy romp that’s impossible not to smile and tap along to. And even when the breezy nature of some tracks is taken so far as to on the ephemeral, you can almost guarantee that what follows will pack enough of a punch so as to make up for it.

There’s not much in the way of stylistic cohesion, either, and you wonder whether that’s simply because the creativity was flowing out of the almost-fully-reformed lineup or simply because Billy felt confident in following his every whim.

For such a madcap, experimental pop act, this is a reasonably cogent collection of songs, and one that serves as a decent follow up to their last 'proper' LP, 'Paralytic Stalks'.

It's so well constructed as pop music the only thing you can really say is that there's not much diversity.

If you are a pre-existing fan then you will find much to enjoy here, but more importantly if you are a sceptic who thinks pop punk is a baser pleasure reserved exclusively for the under 16s, you could do a lot worse than check this album out.

These are pretty, sweet, gorgeously simple songs, some not fully formed, which have come, been and gone.

Transfixiation, named appropriately, demands a trance-like attention across its duration, but very little sticks once the ride is over.

For all its ambition, however, it occasionally leans a little too heavily on the cliched conventions of certain genres, particularly pop and dance. ... Nonetheless, its ambition and creative concept can still be applauded, and there are some hidden gems to be found

Their deep sea dive of a debut gradually evolves into a rich and colourful source of escape, like a coral reef excavation with the occasionally grizzly-toothed white shark thrown in for good measure.

So while there's nothing vastly wrong with From The Hills Below The City, there's also nothing vastly right.

On Relaxer, alt-J sound utterly, wonderfully like no one but themselves.

In turning around a painful and difficult period in his life, Ben Leftwich has managed to paint a picture of redemption and growth that’s graceful and honest without drifting into self indulgence.

Much here sounds as though it could have been unearthed from the treasure trove of old demos the singer sporadically unloaded circa 2004; great for the die-hards, fairly inconsequential for everyone else.

It’s all pleasant, but feels inessential and - at times - dated, not least because the lower-tempo tracks veer dangerously close to sounding like chillwave. Domestication has not robbed Sébastien of his adventurousness, but the killer instinct that defines his best work is missing here: ‘Domesticated’ is a meandering listen.

A bleak and wilfully impenetrable album.

There’s no doubt that the record’s production is second to none and Garratt’s talent is as obvious as an Uber driver’s Sat Nav, but his USP is somewhat dimmed by hours and hours of carefully chosen layers, vocals and everything else in between.

He hasn't quite perfected his talents, but it's far and away the best work he's done as Gambino yet.

In a sense it presents itself as an evolutionary rather than revolutionary development, in this case one which takes its predecessor's penchant for the instant and injects an enormous dose of FM-friendly American power-pop from days of yore into the mix.

[Anxiety] retains all the best things about her debut while expanding on both her sound and style.

If we're honest, the first half of the album, title track aside, is slightly cringeworthy, both in terms of music and the production. But the whole record is redeemed, beautifully, by the last three tracks.

Still Corners’ dream-pop takes on a nightmarish hue with snatches of ominous electro and brutally honest lyrics. Their time away has served them well on this new record.

‘Hotel Surrender’ must surely be one of the most cathartic records of the year. From the laid-back cool of opener ‘Oh Me Oh My’, it seems the Faker brand of chill beats is back. The self-production adds to the organic nature of the record, and is often quite bold, with strings and saxophones aplenty.

Though Electric Würms may not be breaking boundaries any time soon, they’re doing this on their watch and no one else’s.

While it does quickly blend into one long - and at 24 tracks, it is long - medley - he’s created a heady, vibey, dare we say it - groovy - mood.

Although this album is unlikely to change any existing opinion about a band whose left of centre sensibilities have always meant successfully evading wider acceptance, there is enough richness in the material here to merit far more than classing Fellow Travelers as a mere novelty.

A lot of the songs are solid hits in the making.

Crimes of Passion is playful, real, genuine, and just a bit naughty.

Snapshot is more derivative than what is is supposed to be an alternative to.

Sisyphus is easily the boldest project to come from any three of its members, and that’s saying a lot.

It’s the same bloatedness that often permeates through a Beirut record, and despite a short recording time Condon hasn’t quite been able to shake it, leaving us with a familiar and easy-going album that might step in a different direction, but ultimately remains distinctively Beirut.

The beauty lies in the flaws, the imperfections, and A Long Way To Fall is way too immersed in picture perfect punctiliousness for this to make any lasting impression.

This second album shows that there is more to their schtick than barely tamed chaos.

A passable if disappointing montage of mid-tempo electro-pop that flirts dangerously close to dull trip-hop.

The material on Keel Her is probably best enjoyed one by one--17 tracks at once is a bit much.

There’s an awful lot of promise housed in Graveyard Of Good Times, but its scale and constant shape-shifting makes it difficult to consume and process. Some refinement though, and the future’s bright for Brandon.

With an utterly flawless, heart-twisting vocal throughout, America spins tales of sorrow and betrayal and turns them into something exquisite.

The singer-songwriter continues along that trajectory with her most cohesive, accomplished and undeniably catchy collection of songs to date.

Tracks such as ‘Answer’ contain more light, pop-ridden sensibilities, yet it’s with the grittier, heavier-sounding choruses where Phantogram are at their best.

‘Spark’ presents a jarring change: not one from that familiar warmth to icy cold, but only halfway, a sort of uncomfortable mild chill.

Their most ambitious work to date, ‘Myself In The Way’ sees them enter a new world of expansive sound.

Although the remixes do not do the original songs on 'Gloss Drop' justice, 'Dross Glop' does give other artists their chance to interpret Battles' songs in their own way, from a rap twist with Shabazz Palaces to others going into even more experimental territory than the band themselves.

An intriguing album befitting of a fascinating man.

The majority of the record is just not memorable enough.

Their past is a double-edged sword, but that doesn’t prevent Head Carrier from having its own unique strengths.

By refusing to change the song structure or tempo in any way, Deez has created an album that is stuck in a memory that grows more rose-tinted by the day.

Working Girl isn’t the sleekest of albums but the stumbles and scrapes that Little Boots overcomes are a testament to her desire for change.

This is not their most groundbreaking work, but it's very easy to enjoy a band who themselves enjoy what they're creating.

It’s fun, it’s enjoyable and it doesn’t take itself too seriously.

As the album progresses onto its second disc, it becomes even more spaced out and diverse. At times, the attempts to combine more abstract and challenging sounds fail to hold your attention. However, when this works well, as on the excellent ‘Sideways Glance', it’s a joy.

Permission to sprinkle Big Sounds over their insta-recognisable songwriting might not have been something they’d allow themselves in the past, but here it transforms what could’ve easily been ‘churning out more of the same’ into 21st Century alt-pop bangers.

The concept is interesting, it fits well with the sonic ambitions of the band, and for the most part it flows effectively and has good changes of timing and pace.

A wonderful start.