With such a consistently adept and fresh discography, it’s impossible to call this album St Vincent’s best, yet it’s quite easily her fullest, building on everything she’s already achieved while also treading new ground. If she is to be known by one record, let it be ‘All Born Screaming’.

‘OUI, LSF’ is a storming return that suggests that, far from having run out of steam, the possibilities for Les Savy Fav are again endless.

What’s remarkable about ‘What A Devastating Turn Of Events’, though, is that the gravitas of this weightier material isn’t cheapened by the sudden contrast, just as the LP’s initial buoyancy somehow doesn’t become retrospectively flippant. Instead, the album honours that life’s lightness isn’t contradicted by the dark moments, but rather co-exists alongside them; a reminder that everything – and everyone – contains multitudes.

‘POSTINDUSTRIAL HOMETOWN BLUES’ is not the soothing salve for a country tearing itself apart. Instead, it is the molotov cocktail and lighter threatening to ignite the people into taking action.

On ‘Britpop’, a record that exists at the cusp of a portal between medieval England and a spritely electronic future, Cook’s mastery of the esoteric is singular – and a strong argument for the term to retain this new, additional meaning.

Overall, it’s a testament to the world-class songwriting of The Lemon Twigs that at no point does the record fall into the realms of ‘too much’. For most, it would be hard to strike that balance, but The Lemon Twigs absolutely master the art of crooning sugary pop-rock in the best of ways.

On her hugely-anticipated third, there’s plenty of sun-drenched sonic optimism but not so much that’s all that radical.

It’s a joyful listen from start to finish; a playful, experimental, and carefully crafted debut, which is hopefully just the beginning of what Bullion has to offer.

The sheer number of curtain-drop moments is remarkable, somehow never overused or superfluous. There’s a mastery in the songwriting, too: simultaneously gut-wrenching and incredibly cathartic, continuing a thread that has underpinned the band’s material this far.

While the album ends with an echoed sigh of melancholic relief: “Finally I’m on my own”. It’s indicative of the confidence that runs through the band’s long-awaited debut, one that paints ‘Teething’ as both the party and the comedown.

In sound, it sits somewhere between the sparse nature of ‘folklore’ and the overt pop of ‘Midnights’, across its two hours settling into a steady pace that forgoes massive fan favourites in favour of a continuous pull on the heartstrings. The issue with a two-hour album is that you’re not going to hit the mark on every track (no song should have three exclamation marks in the title), and it’s tricky to keep momentum when the name of the game is introspective storytelling.

The jazz-imbued one-two of ‘Light As Grass’ and ‘Could You Help Me’ gives the record a rich introduction, while ‘Sail Away’ descends into a heady, dance-tinged mist; by the time the funky gratitude of ‘The Racket’ closes proceedings (“I won’t let you bring me down”), it’s hard not to be in awe of the scale of her growth and transformation in every sense of the word.

In doubling down on her niche - that is, artsy Scandi-indie-pop - ’I’M DOING IT AGAIN BABY!’ is girl in red at her most realised.

Perhaps best of all is how direct the whole thing is, typified by ‘Glass Eye’, on which the outfit’s uncompromising sound brings sonic clarity while sporadic backing vocals offer classic ‘90s boyband echoes. A solid record.

‘Abomination’ is a singular debut and quintessential cultural capsule - of both post-post-punk and gay modernity - from one of the UK’s most fearless off-piste queer acts.

The picture it paints as a whole is a hugely rich one - not just of the album itself, but of English Teacher as the opposite of a flash-in-the-pan buzz band; as a group really only just getting started.

Now, the scuzz and rough edges of their younger selves is swapped out for the fizz and crackle of these vital reworkings, which take in some of their most varied sounds to date; in amongst the usual post-punk vigour are hints of shoegaze, psychedelia and - on the standout ‘Major Amberson’ - melodic pop.

There’s a slight irony in the fact that an album so jam-packed is entitled ‘Silence Is Loud’, but the remarkable feat of Nia Archives’ debut is that it somehow never feels too much or too choppy; for all its referential nods and sonic variation, this is still a project that is cohesively, distinctly her.

‘Don’t Forget Me’ is the sound of an artist finally beginning to sink cosily into her own skin, and enjoying herself enormously in the process.

‘Found Heaven’ does, at times, feel a bit like you could play ‘iconic ‘80s songs’ bingo. .... But, when his influences are worn as heart-on-sleeve as they are here – and, crucially, are executed as well – the overall effect is one of knowing homage rather than tribute act.

A luscious album that sees the singer shrug off the pressures of present day virality in favour of creating something much more classic.

While better executed at certain points than others, the band’s varied selection of instrumental textures remains a defining feature; from the riff-driven frenzy of ‘Talking Radiance’ to the minimalist, piano-led touch of ‘Venus’, there’s an inharmonious harmony that pervades.

Bob Vylan still have a lot to be furious about, but ‘Humble As The Sun’ is a winning exercise in shifting focus; after all, as the old saying goes, the best revenge is living well.

There’s an altogether calmer atmosphere on display here, that in its beauty forgoes some of the immediacy that characterised her earlier catalogue’s stand-out moments.

Because ‘You’ll Pay’, ‘Read Em And Weep’, ‘Only Love’, ‘Fever Tree’ (a charming cover of William Bell’s ‘I Forgot To Be Your Lover’), and ‘Don’t Let Me Go’ are all peppered with a shimmering strut, and the kind of euphoria that’s surely only a well-filmed choreo sequence away from the kind of virality enjoyed by Jungle of late. And this is a lane that fits The Black Keys like a glove.

So, taking all the wide-eyed playfulness of their earlier work, and the confidence in creating a sonic tapestry of their latter, ‘Only God Was Above Us’ is both their most accomplished and most Vampire Weekend album yet.

Even the weakest Libs composition is a standard many British songwriters can only aspire to, to this day. If nothing else, it’s heartwarming that the story is still unfolding for the Likely Lads.

By opening up their songwriting process, the band have managed to carve out an even more singular sound. The possibilities from here seem endless.