Whenever debut LP neo swerves close to normality, these formula-shunners tear things to shreds.

The idea behind Quazarz is indeed fascinating, and could have been a unique way of talking about the modern social and political climate. Unfortunately, sometimes it feels like the quest for a particular vibe has sometimes been prioritised over the underlying message.

Across its 14 tracks, Silver Dollar Moment rarely deviates from the same emotional note throughout. Leaving off ‘Sugar…’ also feels criminal.

It's never boring, the dynamism of the tracks means they all have a sense of motion. It's just, after a while, there doesn't seem to be a destination in mind.

The experience is filmic first and foremost, barely for a minute could Les Revenants survive as a stand-alone album, but it’s the curiosity and atmospherics of that leant narrative that compels the listener through the album.

Contact is a disappointment because it's packed with untapped potential, which never seems to be fully realised.

Ultimately, this is the strongest Bird has sounded in some time, but it’s not quite the monumental breakthrough that’s going to find him new fans.

Milano doesn’t come with the cinematic sensibilities or the polish that ‘Rome’ did, but its sheer boisterousness and rough-and-ready sonic approach does justice to the underground movement that it aims to serve as homage to.

For those to whom Courtney’s songwriting is a soothing balm, there is plenty to like here - but there’s a sense of creative inertia that means it’s a difficult record to truly love.

It’s not light-hearted or easy to stomach, but for placing themselves into the shoes of others and broadcasting from the inside, there’s no real match for Public Service Broadcasting.

Whilst songs from this new record will actually fit nicely besides tracks from ‘Old Pine’ and ‘The Lack Long After’, Keep You as a whole, is somewhat forgettable.

You’d hope there’d be more new ideas injected in to Simon’s music. As it is however, Migration feels disappointingly close to home.

It’s only in the moments with somebody else in the driving seat that The Anonymous Nobody shines.

Overall, it’s hard to escape the sense that the concept behind the record has played to its favour in some parts and gone against it in others; this is, therefore, not even close to being the most balanced Sweet Baboo effort to date.

There’s a lot to like on Cohen’s debut, and plenty to suggest a follow-up could soar to far greater heights, but not enough to suggest a commercial breakthrough could be on the cards.

Mykki is a promising starting point for some, a jump into a different league entirely for his following.

Iit feels like a natural extension from what’s come before rather than a bold move forward, but you can tell Santigold had fun making it all the same.

The Idlewild comeback may not see them scale the heights of their previous output, but this album is certainly a heart-warming success.

Routines isn’t an album that’s going to change the world, but it is a pretty good reminder to stop, slow down and take things in once in a while.

The middle run of ‘U Do U’, ‘RH RN’ and ‘Old Flame’ is so mid-paced and lacking in audible spark that it’s as if the record has momentarily dozed off. And for a group who have seemed so overflowing with ideas, so strong in their convictions and so urgently essential, it can’t help but feel a bit disappointing

Ultimately Beyond The Wizards sleeve sounds like what it is--a hobby. As an outsider, it simply doesn’t reap the same rewards as it might have for its creators.

Taken on their own, each track solidifies the group’s wild imagination, but IV is tough to stomach as the free-flowing, full-bodied juggernaut that it is.

Cosmic Wink is largely free from inhibition though, documenting the big changes in life over beautiful, sweeping folk. While the album doesn’t hold all the answers, it’s still sure enough in its message to connect and remind you of the important things.

‘Typhoons’ occasionally misses the mark: the space created by the pair’s more chilled sonic approach isn’t filled. The songs here may be more melodic, more complex even on paper, but in reality there’s little there to truly grab hold of.

Olympic Girls is Tiny Ruins diversifying their sound and, in the process, unlocking something new and palpable. Simply by moving further out, they start to let us in.

‘Defeat’ alone clocks up a gargantuan 22 minutes runtime. Similarly, ‘Magicians From Baltimore’ could have been a wonderfully tight piece but overstays its welcome at almost 10 minutes. Still, the blissed-out, spage age ‘Genie’s Open’ and the funky prog of ‘Gem & I’ provide at least a partial argument in favour.

Their third album feels singular, apart from its predecessors in spirit, for better and worse.

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.