An arresting blend of ecopoetics and meditations on grief.

[Shows] a more intimate side to Barnett than we’ve previously encountered. ... Things start to feel monotonous and samey by If I Don’t Hear From You Tonight and Splendour and there’s none of the brazen intensity or deadpan delivery that graces Tell Me How You Really Feel to behold here, which is a shame.

Sparseness can often lend a chilliness, but Rundle’s work here can be grippingly hot and suffocating – the feeling of air being sucked out of a room – as she recalls past traumas.

As an album, If Words Were Flowers won’t win Harding any new fans but it is a contemplative, thoughtful exploration of modern love through the prism of traditionalist soul.

Her voice is at times limited, with melodies in the second half of the record becoming indistinct. But when it works, Lotic is at the height of her powers.

It’s an album of growers, taking its time to reach unconventional climaxes. But there’s nothing fluffy about it; Jordan’s delivery is clean, precise and exudes confidence well beyond her years.

I Don’t Live Here Anymore, is their greatest and grandest statement yet. Adam Granduciel’s obsessive nature when it comes to making records has paid off as the Grammy winners' fifth studio album is another triumph in sound.

Shade contains some of Harris’s most and least accessible work.

From the surety of Aquamarine to the simple vulnerability of Graves, Duffy strikes an irresistible balance between sorrow and joy, once again displaying their knack for dressing stark trauma in infectious beats and major chords. Whether a coping mechanism or an inside joke, the result is truly exciting music that is also uniquely heartbreaking.

While some may miss the band's more direct approach of previous records, tracks like Homo Sapien show Parquet Courts can still rock out.

Taylor might not have been coming for the crown of pop star of the year, but with Prioritise Pleasure she’s certainly taken it.

With its screeches of synth and operatic vocals it’s a strong final blast, but points towards a record of more tonal variety. As it is, the other songs in its final third, which work perfectly well when listened to in and of themselves, can’t help but feel like re-treading ground covered better earlier in the record.

Taking cues from her early mixtapes, its songs function as sketches that reinforce each other to create a heavy and rewarding listen.

Painting a portrait of life in Montreal, one hand... is narrated as much by hurt as it is by hope, and demonstrates Levy’s ability to develop her artistry without letting go of the colouring of sound that renders her music hers.

A grab-bag of experiments, as the now-trio try on a variety of stylistic hats while they figure out what the future of WWPJ sounds like.

It’s in the curation of the record where Ayewa excels, presenting a platform for black and queer collaborators throughout.

Young’s jump into pastures new feels significant throughout, coupled with lyrical themes of escapism and adventurous spirit. As such, the record feels purposely detached from much of their discography up until this point. That said, the band’s long championed easy-breezy, summer indie-rock still exists in bursts.

Before I Die firmly establishes Hye Jin’s multifaceted sound and crafts a mood that feels very of the moment.

Their newest body of work retains a fiery core, it also reveals a more pensive and reflective side to the band.

To be making music that can truly surprise you 13 albums and 28 years into a career is a testament to Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker’s continued dedication to their craft.

While pulling from here and there, what binds Sometimes I Might Be Introvert together is a flair for the cinematic and the result is an album that's both monumental and an innermost peek into Little Simz’s soul.

The album spans TikTok pop to grunge and lots in between. De Souza commits to them all.

Despite the daring newness, Screen Violence still feels unmistakably CHVRCHES, and one of their strongest records at that.

Aisles is a simple concept, executed spectacularly.

It’s soft, woozy, melodically loose. Further investigation reveals that this approach seems to have spread to every aspect of Lorde's songwriting. Where Melodrama was razor-sharp in the universally relatable picture it painted of late adolescence, Solar Power drifts to a place altogether more impressionistic.

While Deafheaven's change in direction isn't an unwelcome one, there isn't quite the same rush as their previous best efforts, as they adapt to their new surroundings. Minor gripes aside, Infinite Granite proves Deafheaven's mettle and shows you don't always have to shout loud to hit hard.

A record imbued with full faith in the minor masterpieces that dominate Villagers' fifth studio album.

Keep Moving is the closest that Loving in Stereo gets to its own calling card, but too often the album gets mired in mid-tempo fare that allows the adrenaline to wane.