In the end, SABLE, fABLE may not be the boundary-pushing album many have come to expect with each new Bon Iver release, but it feels like the one Vernon needed to make for himself – a kind of self-prescribed therapy.

Glory spotlights Hadreas as he mines this incarnation, its abundant beauty and messiness. He’s left a window to that alt-life open, however, and the winds from that realm gust through these songs.

Despite examining so many thorny questions pertaining to coming of age and the human condition, Big Ugly doesn’t sound half as heavy as one might expect. The fuzzy, twangy guitars and buoyant drumming provide a cushion for harsh truths, and Dowdy renders his characters in warm, light tones – even when their environment is anything but.

Incessant repetition with infrequent and almost indiscernible alterations in cycles is the key to unlocking the joy inherent in dance music, and Snapped Ankles utilise this recipe with aplomb. Not everything on the album lands fully, though. .... These are, though, minor quibbles on a record that begins to at least start to translate the total enigmatic elation that a Snapped Ankles live show can manifest.

She hasn’t fully ascertained how to recast her aesthetic without diluting her presence, but with Dust she inches toward reinvention. Mutinta’s a magician who’s expanding her repertoire, forging new alchemical practices. Dust is ultimately a “between” project; we’ll see where it leads.

When you’re known for crossing into multiple genres over the course of six albums, consistency is an easy thing to lose track of. Lonely People With Power however, proves Deafheaven are a group that stays the course and keep delivering that signature sound they’re known for.

There’s a lot going on here, and Benefits have refused to stand still in the face of increasing media attention. Whether this works in their favour with their core audience remains to be seen, but there’s a boldness – and contrarian flippancy – that should be applauded. .... When Constant Noise triumphs, it absolutely soars.

The album is a grower. There’s few songs here that resembles each other, as the band cut it at nine tracks. The sonic interests of the past albums are clearly visible – it could even be argued that this is the best sounding album the group has produced in the 14 years since Skying. There’s a rich compositional density in the individual elements and production values, which build on each other to form complex art pieces.

One wonders how the band would navigate longer, more involved compositions. For now, we can enjoy their succinct yet impressive debut, as they raise the hardcore bar, mixing fury and a penchant for well-informed experimentation.

It never quite reaches the potential of a fully-formed imaginary future world, as Future Sounds of London managed so effortlessly decades ago. It’s a cool and exciting album, but it doesn’t dream of electric sheep.

One of her strongest collections of songs yet, a finely-hewn and blushing jewel.

It’s flashier, louder, a little more daring in places, yet also somehow more hollow and faceless.

It’s a bold and fearless descent into deliciously chaotic party that is simultaneously heartfelt and hammed up. The project is eager to satisfy fans from all eras without necessarily resting on the laurels of those.

After the muddy emotional quicksand of her previous album, Fohr has found an intoxicating clarity that abandons orchestras for beats. Recorded mostly at night in a basement-studio, the album exudes the limitless, animalistic jungian energy Pan stands for.

BANKS still surprises and delights with her unique lyricism, emotive vocals and direct assessments of those who have hurt her alongside herself as an individual. Still, many tracks are damned short and feel like they are lacking necessary bridges to reach their full potential that this album feels quickly consumed and fleeting when we want to stay inside these songs a bit longer.

The project is full of snappy, polished pop-R&B songs that never go too far astray in quality but can be a repetitive experience when considered as a whole.

The constant references to New York City reveal not refinement but a perpetual fish-out-of-water state, of being handed the marshal’s baton by accident or circumstance and then pressed into service. The agony over him trying to control the message of his personal life is washed away in the descriptions of a man ostensibly standing in the tide wearing a soaking-wet tuxedo.

Thankfully, the pairing [with Adam Granduciel] is largely successful and allows Fender to shrewdly side-step expectations for his Seventeen follow-up; resulting in a mature take of arena rock and the most sonically cohesive Fender album thus far.

Club Shy Room 2 is possibly Shygirl’s least cohesive project, but only because it shows so many facets of the artist’s skillset in its brief 15 minutes. She is sexy, she is bossy, she is fun, she is alternative, she is pop, she is the life of the party.

Yes – this is possibly Aoba’s best work. Music incomparable to anything else, beautiful and eternal.

It’s a record that captures The Murder Capital at their most raw and uncompromising – alive in the turbulence, unafraid of what lies within and around them.

Despite leaning into a slightly different, more openly bold anthemic sound, the album is consistent with what may be expected to come from the band. Per usual, each lyric is written with clear intentionality. Where the band has gone astray and allowed themselves to drift is in the instrumentation.

Rarely Do I Dream points more to the intersection of pop and mysticism. There’s less immediate hook appeal but more depth. These tracks brim with heartfelt sophistication and aesthetic refinement. The album is a resonant and crucial next step in Powers’ pop odyssey.

It’s an album that holds power found rarely these days – up there with Joy Division’s Closer in terms of transgressing the boundary between the macabre and ethereal, uniting music to dance to with spiritual experience, marking the twilight divide of utopia and dystopia.

1991 is, in this final form, equal to the early EP material of Slowdive in its nocturnal, hazy glory, with Greg Ackell and Paula Kelley exchanging lead roles. It is confident in its psychedelic, abstract explorations, aided by the immense, groovy rhythm section of Chris Roof and Steve Zimmerman.

The result is the rawest and truest set of songs in his career to date.

This is You & i are Earth’s best strength: its intimacy, its cosiness, and its unabashed adoration of its subjects.

While the 80s loom in 11:11’s background throughout the album, on “Silhouette” they manifest as a modernised Debbie Gibson or Exposé. “Stay Home”, on the other hand, relies on a cymbal-heavy trip-hop referencing beat to underscore its blissful sensation. Finally, the bookend arrives: a neat and tidy ending to what had previously been a happy mess.