Fans of ‘Complete Surrender’’s sonic diversity, too, might find ‘Now That I’m a River’ similarly one-note to ‘One Day All of This Won’t Matter Any More’. It’s a better record, though, primarily because Charles sounds genuinely refreshed.

La Luz play with an enchanting sensitivity. If only their raw knack for rhythm and harmony were left untouched by unnecessarily glossy production.

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.

Seven albums in, and with a formula that’s kept its core elements largely the same, it’s largely Beach House by-numbers, but the pair have a gravitational pull that looks like it will never run dry.

As far as debuts go, the Sydney trio have made a solid first step here. They’ve got half the job worked out in spades. Now, they just need to work on making it memorable.

While he proves in spades that he’s not merely a throwback artist who has to rely on nostalgia, the mishmash of sounds coming from the album does feel a little muddled at times.

Gaz’s third solo offering continues to find him moving into his next phase with real class.

An album that only even begins to click after about the tenth listen, Arctic Monkeys’ sixth is the kind of eyebrow-raising curveball that could still yet lead to brilliance.

The overbearing problem with Isaac Gracie is just how Isaac Gracie-centric it is.

While it can be an emotionally turbulent listen that continually returns to the fracturing of the self and the breaking apart from others, this is also an album that is deeply arresting and vital, a reminder that these ruptures are a part of the rocky terrain of life.

There are some meandering points on Caer, but Lewis Jr.’s sobering narrative on piano finale ‘Runaway’ ends things on a poignant high-note.

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.

It doesn’t always quite hit those high notes, but the pair have set out to create a sometimes elusive feeling of connection. Its sheer scope alone means there’s likely to be something here that will undoubtedly resonate.

Even though the likes of ‘Dylan And Caitlin’ (a duet with The Anchoress on Dylan Thomas and wife Caitlin Macnamara’s tempestuous marriage) or the poignant nostalgia of ‘In Eternity’--seemingly a sentimental ode to former bandmate Richey Edwards--are thematically complex, they’re coated in unabashedly big hooks. It’s a classic Manics trick and one that still works; across 12 tracks though, you do start to crave the spray-painted antagonists of old to pop up every now and then.

This more paired-back approach isn’t always successful, mind: certain parts of Sex & Food--a bit like inviting whipped cream into the bedroom--seem like a really good idea at the start, but turn into a bit of a sloppy mess along the way.

The results are quietly overwhelming.

Extension relies not just on quality component parts (of which there are many here), but too on tender placement and a development which holds some compassion for the listener. On this rich but straggling album, of Montreal fail on both accounts.

American Utopia isn’t a complete paradise. Yet, there’s enough upbeat vibes on offer here to perhaps make you feel a little more optimistic about the future.

There are fleeting moments to enjoy. But while aiming for something epic in scope, the five-piece have again delivered an album that will keep wheels turning for another few years.

Titus Andronicus have always melted together the music of their heroes, but this time it feels completely without inspiration.

There is a lot of polish to Moaning, to the point that it’s carried off almost with a bit of a swagger.

While it may flag a bit in its latter moments though, All Nerve still has moments where the magic of this particular, iconic incarnation of The Breeders feels recaptured.

Excess and saturation can only get a band so far without a knowing wink to match, and at the moment, it’s that mischievous streak of personality that feels slightly absent.

There aren’t quite enough hooks to unite some of the more exciting experimentalism, but when SHIRT does throw them it’s not certain that they land.

Uncle, Duke and The Chief is a chirpy affair that’s very much in the vein we’ve come to expect, even when there’s a sadness permeating the lyrics.

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

It takes no prisoners musically or lyrically. And, despite the exasperation which the album channels, the tracks never feel too dark and this is largely, in part to the warmth which hides below the rage in Mac McCaughan’s delivery, along with the guitars which remain defiantly loud.

The message of US Girls hides under an instrumental output which is far more intriguing than its lyrics--the music is a bit too good for its political musings to be wholeheartedly focused on.