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.

‘Dark Rainbow’ sounds like many of the best bits of each of their previous records. From rousing opener ‘Honey’ to the soft ballad closer of ‘A Dark Rainbow’, there’s a familiarity without ever feeling rehashed; that is to say existing fans will be pleased, while any new ears this falls on should want to hear more.

While there may be signs of holding back, ‘People Who Aren’t There Anymore’ still carries more than its fair share of upbeat anthems. This album isn’t much different, but why the band would ever change is a question that doesn’t need asking.

‘Friend of a Friend’ is an oasis of normality on this album, providing a piano ballad that could easily be a Neil Young deep cut, but for the most part this album is exactly what a side project should be – all the ideas too weird to fit anywhere else.

Not just a return to form from a group whose recent catalogue has been somewhat patchy, but a true classic, ‘Saviors’ is Green Day at their musical and thematic best.

With seemingly none of that badass-ery from their classic late-’90s output diluted by the passage of time, ‘Little Rope’ sloshes up nothing less than a condensed, rocket-punch collection of ten three-minute bangers.

This isn’t necessarily one to win The Vaccines a new generation, but for those already won over, it’ll prove worth the listen.

It’s a truly cathartic listening experience, driven by the belief that our darkest moments can only be alleviated if we sing about them beautifully enough.

Perhaps her most personal, but also her most diverse.

It’s musical exorcism at its very best, rallying against socially-imposed doubt and anxiety and - in its unique horror - finding welcome moments of inner peace.

‘Heaven knows’ pushes PinkPantheress into new realms of utter brilliance.

No, ‘Think Later’ doesn’t come close to reinventing the wheel (or pop), but it does drench itself within a pop maximalism full of fuel, energy and modernity.

The songs are rarely improved upon, with the fidelity to ruggedness giving the songs the feel of half-finished demos, but the songwriting itself is, of course, stellar.

Bella may not have enjoyed bringing ‘Quarter Life Crisis’ to life, but in facing her insecurities head on she chips away at the pristine Baby Queen polish and pairs her distinct brand of pop with real substance.

Sure, if you’re after something revolutionary, this one’s not for you; but ‘ONE MORE TIME…’ instead succeeds in its mission to reinvigorate the trio’s alchemy, and gives the band a much-needed chance to reflect and celebrate for at least one more time.

While there’s a constant sense of fun, there’s also always a consciousness about who, or what the Rolling Stones are.

’History Books’ is an album that personifies The Gaslight Anthem’s magic all over again.

‘The Silver Cord’ is often magnificent and always supremely fun.

All those who lapped up ‘Tracey Denim’ will be satisfied here. ‘The Twits’ may yet charm a few more besides.

Amid an existing height of musical Afrofuturism, ‘Sweet Justice’ is a crowning achievement - an assertion of self through distinct and precise perspective at the apex of a movement.

Sounding like their most ambitious and handsome release yet.

Most importantly, though, ‘Santhosam’ lives up to its name, as a record that reflects happiness.

‘Turn The World On’ is classic, sparkling Bombay, whereas ‘Rural Radio Predicts The Future’’s two-minute instrumental concludes with almost hyperpop bleeps; the Albarn-featuring ‘Heaven’ is loose and trip-hoppy, while highlight ‘Meditate’ (with Nilüfer Yanya) climbs the guitar scales into a twisted climax. A triumph.

Sampha’s voice might be the most instantly recognizable piece of magic in his arsenal, but it’s his patience and craft that makes ‘LAHAI’ such a stunning experience.

More so than some of his other recent material, the record has a sense of drama and occasion to it, as well as being the most musically seamless album he’s made in nearly twenty years, since 2004’s ‘A Grand Don’t Come for Free’.

These bold theatrics more than work, and maybe more so than ever, they present Creeper with a clear track to bringing camp, dramatic rock back to the very top of the pile.

It’s as fun and messy as it is timelessly trendy; as silly as it is erotic.

At once escapist and heavily personal, it’s a dark, pop-perfect, melancholic fantasy.