EYEYE feels like a piece of magician’s silk that just keeps going and going, but it’s still the same piece of silk. Unlike Wounded Rhymes, this is not an album to put on at a party, but if you’re going through any kind of heartbreak, plug yourself into this immersive and impressive album and let it all out.

Whilst some tracks are arguably a bit forgettable, this album is still full of some brilliant moments.

Complete with dreamy guitar bends, gorgeous harmonies, and a candid lyricism that Phoebe Bridgers would be proud of, If I Never Know You Like This Again has undoubtedly delivered a hat-trick for the Derry-born artist.

There's a substance and cohesion across Preacher's Daughter that's lacking on most debuts – and yet there's clearly so much more to come from this incredible artist and the rich world she's created.

Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder To The Sky is a brilliantly crafted album. Stylistically, all 12 tracks feel brilliantly stitched together, and the album as a whole is a complete standout for Porridge Radio as a band.

Harry’s House is a good album because it doesn’t care if you think so. It's not trying to appease the male critics chained to the altar of classic rock, and it isn’t showering you in glitter and hauling you onto the dance floor (even though you are still cordially invited).

It being one so vulnerable and exposing (including using his family for the artwork), stripping the skin down to the bone, is bold, beautiful, but most importantly, a reminder that an artist like Kendrick Lamar is once in a generation.

Again, this is no ordinary breakup record; it's a turbulent reflection full of complexity pointing toward hope – that farewells don't have to end in goodbye but could evolve into something deeper and more meaningful.

A Bit of Previous fails to standout. Whilst carrying the same overall feel of If You’re Feeling Sinister and The Boy With the Arab Strap, it lacks the depth and storytelling brilliance that originally made this band so exciting.

This is one of those rare records that starts off strong and keeps getting better, more deep and resonant, with each track.

It boasts some of her strongest singles ever, and, coming at the end of a four year break and a two year pandemic, it’s not the theatrical Welch who shows up here; this is a woman and a songwriter, no forest-sprite.

On the album, the dark, haunting sound and intimate atmosphere of her early work and the muscular '80s inspired synth-pop of Remind Me Tomorrow sit side by side.

Each of their songs still contain enough depth of cultural heritage to fill several essays. Persisting too are those harmonies: one of the most distinctive sounds in music today, muscular and powerful when necessary, graceful and hushed otherwise.

Comparing Happiness Not Included to their previous material is futile and mildly ridiculous, that push-pull of pop success, art-school background, and the resulting imposter syndrome which comes when all they wanted to be was a Throbbing Gristle you could dance to is a demon they’ve spent decades trying to escape from, whilst also courting, that unease creating the tension which is evident in all their output, including here.

Erupting out of the soil quicker than daffodils in spring, Sigrid’s growth is nothing short of remarkable on How To Let Go.

With cinematic soundscapes of art-rock in tow, Headful of Sugar is a heavenly ride that actively embraces a full spectrum of feeling; from self-destructive tendencies to the saccharine thrills of youth.

Radiate Like This is a characteristically joined-up effort from the close-knit group, underscoring the strength of their musical bond – its only hindrance being the occasional pang of déjà vu.

An ouroboros-like reawakening that finds them at their acerbic and celebratory best.

I don’t know who needs to hear this… finds Tomberlin firmly stood in the language of her own making. She redefines song structure, alluding to the intrinsically mirrored fashion in which life pans out; like life, far beyond the close, these songs continue to spin.

LP.8 is certainly roomier than Owens’ previous work. More directed at dedicated dance-heads, more suited to the durgy decrepitude of basement dancefloors, and more abstract in its approach. But LP.8 provides further evidence that Kelly Lee Owens operates in a field entirely of her own.

Toeing the line between infectious and abrasive, it's this swinging energy under which Lady For Sale thrives. Indeed, this isn’t an album created to lay low, it begs for attention, and once you’re in its sights, it’s impossible not to do so.

Scalping’s world-creation on Void is engaging and welcoming while being both ecstatic and unnerving. What gives this record cohesion is its ability to freely blend sounds and be bold while maintaining its heart as a rhythmic electronic record that’s audibly bursting to be let loose on a live audience.

Forgiveness is a confrontational, undiluted journey of self-acceptance and adulthood through cathartic electro-pop infusions and delicate introspections – Girlpool’s new era has succeeded them well.

Profound Mysteries doesn’t quite have the timelessness of Melody AM, but it certainly lives up to Röyksopp’s reputation as a duo that has perfected the art of dishing out electronic hugs.

The production on the album is very lowkey, allowing for Kehlani’s extraordinary vocals and vivid lyricism to take centre stage.

A few of the less memorable cuts drift by without making much of an impact: adventurous arrangements in search of a substantial centre that would allow for a real connection to be made. That said, the blissfully floating, richly melodic closing suite “Alma_The Voyage” makes up for the occasional idling.

The divide between Hollingworth and Walton has never been clearer in Two Ribbons, nor the subject matter more intimate.

The Price of Life’s relentless delivery of its agenda is a tiring but invigorating shot in the arm. Will time show this to be their best album? Maybe not, is this an album by an act quickly becoming one of the most important acts in the UK whose message demands to be heard? Absolutely.