These nine tracks prioritise serenity and beauty in their evocation of some unknowable beyond. Their sparkle can become almost too perfect, which makes the dark abruptness of the last two pieces feel like release, even if they throw its general hopefulness into uncertainty.

Unfortunately, it seems like the record's runtime was set before material was allotted to the space, unleashing a high-octane sugar rush in a space fit to dilute it into the unbearableness of being palatable. There are worse things.

Real Power is a lot of fun, though at points it seems to sacrifice bite in favour of a certain kind of generic polish.

The Great Bailout, while resting handily within her trademark virulent atmospheres and spoken word, is among her most impenetrable and least entertaining from a practical sense. This is not a fault of the record, but a necessary and expected byproduct of its existence, as each track runs up to ten minutes in a dirge of menacing poetry with instrumentals more evocative of a sinister mood-piece than a traditional song

While Glasgow Eyes is no Psychocandy, it is without doubt a true-to-form The Jesus and Mary Chain album and, for that reason alone, worth the listen.

It’s a record that sees Doyle take chances, not all of which pay off by any means, but it is one that never truly coalesces into a great album in the way his last two records have. That said, he remains a figure who is always interesting and developing.

One More Thing is the product of an accomplished band noodling around in the studio. There's a playfulness and creativity here that promises bigger and better things from the Brighton four-piece in the future. As far as debut albums go, this is a promising one.

Resigning itself to well-trodden paths, Venus seems curiously content charting no new territory.

While this is an exciting new style for the band, the album could have benefited from more of the stripped-back moments that we hear in the likes of America. In the opening and closing songs of the album, we’re reminded why Courting are such a captivating band but New Last Name, while fun and energetic, sadly fails to match the impact and charm of their debut.

A hint of musical theatre elsewhere sees the record lose some of its bite, but in general it’s a robust rejoinder to some of the more depthless musicality of soul-baring, 'authentic', indie-rock. Kirby is instead funny, scathing and full of clarity about her personal epiphanies.

Sleater-Kinney’s decade-spanning songwriting style feels the same. Give us the electrifying assault and brutal guitar tones to fill those tiny cracks now present in our hearts. Give us a little more rope.

Big Sigh's strength is in not holding back from confronting darker feelings, and revelling in the raw honesty of experiencing them.

Ultimately, it's a collection of well-written and well-presented songs, though at this point the familiarity with the Condon style feels expected, and the few new tweaks aren't quite enough to raise Hadsel above a middling Beirut album.

This is probably one for Veirs purists, but such is the standard of her songwriting that even among these sketches, there’s some real gems to be found.

There are times when this commitment to innovation and experiment costs Los Angeles its ability to hold the listener’s attention. .... Even so, Los Angeles proves that each artist on the record is a visionary in their own right, as they push the boundaries of the past whilst looking to the future.

The album works in short bursts of adrenaline. That can leave midtempo ballads like Shoo feeling aimless.

God Games provides glimpses of what makes The Kills so compelling, but is unlikely to convert many new listeners to the cause.

All That Was East Is West of Me Now, begins as a noisy yet meditative record with crunching guitars and snapping snares, before settling into a more reflective pattern to suit the resigned sighs and stuttering sounds his tunes twist taut upon.

Goodnight, God Bless, I Love U, Delete. is overlong and perhaps too diffuse for its own good, but to hear Moreno wholeheartedly indulge his melodic instincts makes the whole exercise a worthwhile one.

Jonny arrives after a decade as the same well-paced and tender exercise in running in place, exactly where they always leave off.

Although all of the tracks on the record blend seamlessly together, many sadly sound similar to the last, with only a few stand-outs such as Superbloodmoon, a collaboration with American singer-songwriter d4vd.

On Want You to Know she assures us that 'beneath the layers there is simplicity'. Despite this, there's always an emotional distance created by screens and technology, with tongue-in-cheek lyrics.

As a standalone record, End of the Day does not always justify its existence. Some tracks are simply too empty, leaving a noticeable divide between audience and artist. It takes a concerted effort to listen to the album as a single track, and it perhaps would be best enjoyed alongside the film it was first written to accompany.

When it works, it’s thrilling, especially on the moody Moi and the mercurial, atmospheric Sons and Daughters. Elsewhere, Palms of Hands and Dusty are perhaps a little grindcore-by-numbers. Still, Neil and Vennart have presented their vision in uncompromising fashion, and those who yearn for Blackened Sky-era Biffy will unquestionably find something to love.

It's perhaps not the finest Hiss Golden Messenger album, but it's certainly one of the most joyful, and in the current climate, maybe that's just what we need.

Snow Angel is a well-calibrated blend of ballads and upbeat pop; self-contained but not unambitious. Not dealing in grand epiphanic or showstopping moments but rather steadier, more subdued honesty, Rapp jettisons the debut pop album rule book.

Overall, Learning How to Live and Let Go fluctuates in tone. But this doesn’t negate the clear effort the band have put into making this record a lot more experimental than any of their previous releases, and it’s still chock full of heart and vulnerability in its lyrical content.

The lengthy tracks here lose their momentum and oeuvre, dragging wearily toward the end. But when it's good, it’s great – similarly lengthy tracks in the first half, Wandering Through and Our Song feel varied and forceful enough to keep us on our toes.

While Deliverance does have instances of real bracing power, it equally finds itself faltering in its most exposed moments where it really needs to connect.

The record is resolute in its pacing, maintaining a continuous bpm between songs but never gaining driving force from the bass as the best disco does. Nothing ever feels like it’s at risk.

Even if it doesn’t always hit the mark, Evergreen is an album that should see Gunnulfsen continue to climb festival line-ups and charts alike.

While IRL is satiny and consistent, sonically and lyrically you’re eager for some bigger swings. At times operating in truisms, you await unspooling of edgier insight. IRL is like a path reflecting dappled sunlight: we can see patches of brightness but its full light is obscured.

But with all this exploration, the record lacks a little impact, not quite achieving the cohesion and emotional gravity of Good at Falling.

The Beggar is another solid entry into the Swans canon, if not one that suggests it will have the staying power of their classics. It still marks Swans as a group intent on developing long into their career, and there’s no threat of them losing their intensity.

A selection of often very solid songs that waivers a touch towards its back end, but nonetheless marks another solid entry to the output of an always interesting artist.

Despite a relatively concise tracklist of ten songs, at points the 45-minute runtime seems to drag on, giving the album a sense of heaviness. Not dissimilar ambient sounds wash into one another – overall perhaps a more pared-down curation could better highlight the album’s strengths.

When it aims for the ecstatic it works well, but it doesn’t colour its muted periods with anything like the precision, the uneasy vistas it is aiming for never quite forming.

The problem is that beyond the singles which dominate True Entertainment’s Side A, the band seem at a bit of a loss as to what to do with their newfound dancefloor credentials. The second half of the record rests on an at-times plodding and repetitive rhythm section, without enough excitement in the melody to buoy it up.

Bathed in a heavenly glow, it’s easy to let these songs wash over you, but Chua’s soothing vocals invite us to lean in and listen more closely.

The record feels like someone truly in control of their craft, to the extent that it begins to suffer from this a touch, all of its edges honed too perfectly, too considered to leave any sense of spontaneity, even if it is often beautifully done.

It’s all here, and though it may not reach the dizzying, if somewhat bloated, heights of 2017’s Humanz, it still slaps.

Too often the album feels like a case of enacting genres rather than letting their influence seep in. It leaves the record feeling like a grab bag of ideas, some of which have been polished to brilliance, others of which haven’t been fully realised. There’s clearly a great album in there, just one that never quite gets the momentum to show itself.

Staying on theme for 40 uninterrupted minutes leaves you craving some lyrics, even a scrap, that make contact with the wider world.

Barrett has moved away from the big city, but small-town living has inspired his most accessible work to date.

There are long stretches, particularly during the muted take on V1 in which the pieces are impressive rather than affecting, where you can marvel at Malone’s skill with timbre without being moved in any way. It leaves a sense that the album feels more like one for the most committed fans of all three artists, but one that, given the chance, has some astonishing moments.

At its best, Time's Arrow is mystical but commanding, with electric synthscapes pulling you deeper inward. However, at times the sonic landscape they’ve created risks suffocation, leaving little room for manoeuvre between one song to the next – a lighter touch in areas could stand to draw out more subtle nuances and make for a more compelling journey overall.

CACTI is understandably more subdued than her self-titled debut, but the boisterous numbers it does contain, like spite, might feel more dynamic played live by humans – it feels like the energy that makes her such a captivating performer is being restricted by her drum machine.

Vocal highlights aside, the band's simplistic metal techniques fail to materialise the "Catholic sex dungeon" vibes Mahony hoped to summon.

Some tracks do repeat the same tricks or perhaps linger a little too long, yet Myself in the Way, while not one to excite fans of the old Turnover, builds upon the simplicity of Altogether to produce an alt-disco record full of intrigue.

The record is a bit slow to get going, and at times meanders into excessive atmosphere – next to The Slow's Bullet's ambient fuzz, the urgent jungle rhythms on Higher and Devotion in particular pop. But Avery is engaging with the art of the album as a sum of its parts, and from start to finish conjures a fantastical, dreamlike world.

Alpha Zulu is everything a Phoenix album has been already: slick, silly, maximalist. ... They mine nostalgia for call-backs (Tonight); find comedy in impending doom (Alpha Zulu). But the boys are ageing and, separated initially by lockdown, an emotional core burned a hole in the centre of this new record instead of a six-minute space-bound instrumental.

Is Inner World Peace going to change the history of music? Probably not. But it will absolutely become a comfort album for many.

A pandemic baby, the album is a mixed bag as the singer explores new paths for herself.

The record ultimately feels like something of a minor work in James’s already imposing output, but remains a pointer to both her and Eastman’s sparkling talents.

Cool It Down is topical without getting too deep, and fun without overstaying its welcome, but even for a band as mercurial as YYYs, it feels a little too ephemeral.

The album’s tendency towards soft and sugary can sometimes grate a little, especially when the band sound so vital and exciting when they amp up the dirt and energy (Silence is Golden; I Told You That I Was Afraid). Overall though, this is a solid collection of bittersweet pop gems for anyone with half a heart.

If you already enjoy the band's sound, whether in fervent adoration or in a passing fondness, Keep On Smiling won’t turn you off. It might not be a game changer, but if you already like the game, thats not a problem.

While her captivating vocals remain, Donnelly’s lack of bark and bite from the debut means this record, as the name suggests, mostly washes over you.

The decision to front-load the album with singles means that you experience a jarring drop in energy and quality three songs in. After that Freakout/Release settles into songs that, while alright, sound a bit like the product of an AI program that has been made to listen to 100 hours of Hot Chip and then generate its own imitation.

While it might not be pushing too far beyond its own boundaries, No Rules Sandy makes for an enjoyable and affecting listen, whatever the weather.

The baggy mid-section gives over to pared back singer-songwriter fare that reigns it all in, the record’s bright flame burning out rather too fast.

Pensive, resting beats provide a backdrop to the album's many experiments with it really popping in its quieter moments of lyrical reflection and confrontation. Loggerhead requires repeat listening to discover its true depth.

If creating something uncomfortable was what Butler was hoping to achieve with In Amber, then it certainly succeeds in its mission. Unfortunately, though, it doesn’t achieve much else.

The constantly shifting mood makes it difficult to settle into a rhythm, which may be due to the missing visual element, but there are more than enough well-executed left turns on Ugly Season to make a solid standalone album.

Ultimately while graves is a perfectly fine EP, it's also a mostly safe one.

While tracks like Woman are meant to be sombre (and ANOHNI is the perfect artist to deliver this), several of the featured artists have attempted to transpose Cherry’s tongue-in-cheek asides into sincere parts of the melody and in doing so have undercut the fun of the songs.

It certainly seems like a work-in-progress, a warts-and-all steppingstone to something better yet to be realised – sadly, it's also the first time Owens has sounded like anyone other than herself.

At 16 tracks the album does slightly outstay its welcome, and in its latter stages it begins to feel like ideas are being repeated, but with less focus and immediacy.

Ultimately, while there are a few moments that are undeniably hypnotic, the album as a whole feels just slightly less full in scope and vision than her previous bodies of work.

Some Nights I Dream of Doors feels like a real expression of Umoh’s wide-ranging influences and it succeeds in showcasing his diverse vocal range. However, at times it feels restrained and, for an artist as unique as Umoh, it feels like a missed opportunity.

Generally speaking, while it's a solid return for the group, it's likely to leave some wanting more, aching for some real catharsis or a change of gear here and there.

It’s a record filled with trite sentiments and well-trodden musical ideas (or in some cases, badly-trodden).

It’s a smooth ride for the most part but sometimes you just wish whoever's driving this thing would find a decent station and stick with it.

There's a great album in Fontaines D.C., and Skinty Fia takes them one step closer.

Four talented youngsters from LA of Asian and Latinx descent, wearing their influences on their sleeves, have produced a light-of-foot album of fun riffs and effectively simple ideas.

None of this group of songs are as good as those from her concise solo album, which only sprawled out with the ambient abstractness of its instrumental companion, something new and unheard for her. Here, listless listening is interrupted by the dangerous, mystical Simulation Swarm, saving the record’s back half. Big Thief are at their most beguiling when giving in to weird experiments.

For a band renowned for their experimentation it doesn’t feel like much new ground is covered on Time Skiffs and even after years of waiting, by the end of the album you’re left wanting more.

Ever the musical misfits, Blood Red Shoes’ righteous spirit remains even if their sound is a shape-shifting entity.

Unfortunately, Olly Alexander’s first solo outing as Years & Years doesn’t quite hit the mark, but even though they may be few and far between, there are still some glimmers of potential on Night Call.

[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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Liars' tenth album is a spotty affair with showy highs (Sekwar, The Start), pulpy mediocrity (From What the Never Was, My Pulse to Ponder) and enigmatic experiments (Acid Crop, Leisure War).

Wavves are no stranger to this smooth-to-rugged combination, and on Hideaway, the mix feels like a familiar cocktail recipe that mostly hits all the right notes.

When Bright Green Field follows in the footsteps of their best track The Cleaner – supercharging the banal and mundane with vigour and purpose – it rips, mixing genres like straight-ahead indie-rock with funk and jazz, and exploring ambient and textural backdrops which make their now-home Warp apt.

Although Flat White Moon is a serene glance into the past it unfortunately lacks the innovation that makes what inspired it so great, and would be much improved if we could hear Field Music’s individual voice alongside their musical heroes.

These duets are, of course, not standards. The production is exceptionally murky – mostly collaborators move through the dark, uncertain world Stewart manifests with his Scott Walker-like crooning of glossolalia.

Arab Strap’s first studio album together since 2005’s The Last Romance is marked by a feeling of not quite-ness; everything’s there but it just doesn’t quite click into its potential at many points. A good half of the record treads in similar ground to opener and comeback single The Turning of Our Bones; drum machines, faintly angular guitar arpeggios and Moffat’s largely spoken dissection of middle age.

Ideas disintegrate before developing, awkwardly blending into the next, leading to occasionally aimless moments. At its best, though, it’s a riveting and subtle addition to an already impressive discography.

TYRON’s second half is undoubtedly more interesting, demonstrating a maturity to his lyrical ability. While it does feel like a forced attempt to put things right, on TYRON slowthai is allowed the time for self-reflection that cancel culture often denies.

Her career to date might have been bolstered by a stellar string of friends but there’s one thing that the multi-instrumentalist is more than capable of handling herself – the artful knack for sincere songwriting.

These musical twists and turns can occasionally detract from Christinzio’s lyrics, which veer between gallows humour and vulnerability. When the latter half of the album gives his words more room to breathe, their impact becomes even greater.

There’s very little room for light and shade amongst their wall of cavernous synths, and while this can generate an evocative mood (the bursts of percussion and gloomy electronics of pink lightning does give the impression of thunderstorms) it can sometimes feel like James and Roddick are happy to operate within their comfort zone. Nevertheless, fans of Purity Ring fans will undoubtedly find WOMB to be a welcome return.