Tempest has delivered a compelling, thought-provoking insight into our troubled times.

What’s unique about Pinegrove is how they compress uncertainty, doubt and fear without being overbearing.

Mike Hadreas takes a scalpel to the inner-workings of his creative brain, and the love that feeds it. An absolutely flooring record from once-in-a-generation talent.

There’s still that personable rawness to her production – the synthetic drums and often sparse arrangement mirroring her frequently despondent lyrical themes (“The death of everything real has happened…” begins ‘apathy is wild’). But her vocal offers warmth.

This album, for a short time, will make you question your sanity and the world around you.

On The Book of Traps and Lessons Kate Tempest continues to impress as one of the UK’s most vital voices.

Ultimately, Kali’s intention to create a timeless album about love is met with expected ease.

The most uncomfortable elements of life, colliding to create frantic, disorganised, but completely coherent mess, this record isn’t basic. It’s anything but.

The LP’s darker moments are its most affecting, but the playful brushes of humour throughout never diminish anything; in fact, they make ‘It Is What It Is’ a richer, more human experience.

Ranging from intimidating to wonderfully eye-opening, it's always forthright, and it barely falters.

A supremely intricate record which unfolds further with every listen - much like the brooding build of ‘In Birdsong’ - the band’s fifth album is, at times, a shadowy beast, and it’s sure to leave a mark.

If there’s anything to criticise Hope Downs for, it’s its risk-averse approach, and tendency to become a one-dimensional listen, but as a debut record, it presents a band that know exactly what they’re doing, and proceed to do it very well indeed.

At the heart of Quiet Signs remains Jessica Pratt’s acquired taste of a voice and her penchant for dainty instrumental work, but the record’s palpable atmospherics might be enough to win over previous detractors.

While ‘What’s Your Pleasure’ doesn’t quite hit the heady heights of classic disco its soft-focus imagery might suggest, it’s both a more exciting - and natural - fit for the singer than we’ve heard in some time.

An album that dreams not just big but huge. It begins with a literal orchestral overture - 96 seconds of world-building that removes you from boring old reality and plants you into their version of Fantasia. Then, 11 tracks of similarly sky-high, grandiose ambition, that tie together lofty literary sentiment, cinematic sweeping theatricality and killer melodic indie hooks with an equal affinity for each.

That MCII can jump from sound to sound isn’t a surprise; but at times it does make for a slightly schizophrenic listen.

Definitely an acquired taste for those who Grizzly Bear’s less immediate side already ticks multiple boxes, but for those it’s surely a win.

Always vivid and often affecting, the record deals with love and loss in a way that constantly resonates.

Rife with feelings of ephemeral isolation and deep personal anxieties, they have realised a new wave of modern storytelling, forging ‘The Line Is A Curve’ as an answer to an open call for honesty.

As a trip of just over an hour, Singularity is varied and consistently compelling.

Sans-visual accompaniment the album can feel meandering and unfocused. Fortunately, the experimental production and dark atmosphere are compelling in their own right, and ‘Anima’ is ultimately a trip down the rabbit hole worth taking.

It’s all executed with the same kind of effortless charm that’s characterised Malkmus’ entire career.

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.

Letting endless threads unravel, in vivid detail, this album might creep up on you at first, but make no mistake, its creativity and poetry will floor you.

The gambles pay off, and all add up to her most accomplished group of songs to date.

The one constant success of her sound is her ability to jump from one song to the next in a way that rarely seems jarring; it’ll serve her well to keep the multi-faceted nature of her sound from here on out.

‘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.

An album, according to Dev, about “black depression, black existence and the ongoing anxieties of queer / people of colour”, Negro Swan is a record that radiates these tensions; subtle and amorphous, it’s not the most immediate listen, but it’s undoubtedly one with real weight.