This is hardly music to quicken the pulse and there’s no escaping the sense of sameyness over the album’s 40 minutes.

Despite the vast flavours Bibio is presenting throughout this record, so much of the quality production is slighted by tracing the same predictable frequencies and manoeuvres as so many servile songwriters leagues below have made prospering careers out of.

While not without fault, ultimately ‘Forever’ emerges as a tender salute to Phife Dawg. Six years on, he remains a key aspect of the rap firmament – a light that has not dimmed.

Tthe songwriting is strong without being spectacular, and John Congleton’s production offers clarity but is somewhat lacking in edge.

Even as the production’s impact dips in the midst of playtime, when the final note of ‘The Seed’ plays what’s left in one’s memory is only the good, and for that Aurora’s latest album succeeds.

For best results listen, not hear it, on headphones. The way the backing tracks float in your head is just bliss.

‘Only Slightly Empty’ may not be the full glass, but it’s proof that White Reaper aren’t done pouring yet. And I’m sitting here ready to sip on whatever they are going to pour out next.

Sonic Citadel towers over its surroundings as one of the best albums of Lightning Bolt’s career to date.

Family life and a well-earned break have given this one-time Gothfather new tricks that pure despair could never provide.

Studio gloss and sanitised drums too often leave things sounding a little safe.

It is to the group’s credit that they manage to balance the disparate influences and styles with such panache. It is one of the band’s strongest to date and one fans will come back to time and time again.

For My Crimes is a glorious album that demands to repeat listens to try and work out the hidden meanings of its songs and stories. As the nights are drawing in, pull the curtains, dim the lights and give yourself to its country gothic charm.

The songs that do aim to be bigger however, simply don't stand-up against their previous work or the mellower parts of the album.

What Peck provides on Pony is music framed in that mould, and in doing so offers a brilliant palate cleanser to the vast majority of overblown, raucous and vapid compositions that have taken over the genre over the course of the last three decades or so.

His voice is something of an acquired taste but, this minor caveat aside, The Year Of Hibernation is a genuinely unique debut.

This range of styles on New could have been distracting if not for the material’s solid foundations, spontaneous energy, and frequent naked emotions.

It would be wrong to say that this is an enjoyable album, but it is rewarding in its own way.

With ‘Land of Sleeper’ Pigx7 have managed to sharpen their uncompromising combo of Sabbath-esque riffs and experimental leanings into their most easily digestible – and perhaps best – album yet.

The songs are largely beautiful, the vocal performance is mostly impeccable and the recording generally captivating, but so was its predecessor.... not quite as good live album.

Elegant, understated, Chastity Belt is the sound of a band matured, and it’s all the better for it.

Less folksy, more funky, Kiss Each Other Clean is a rather more lively, sometimes even poppy record.

It’s inspiring, and above all else incredibly catchy.

At just ten tracks, it’s an easy listen. Of course, some of them have more repeat playability than others, but there are none that feel like filler.

‘Shadow Offering,’ is beautiful and heartwrenching, pulling on listeners’ heartstrings. The album offers a sanctuary by easing anxiety and fueling hope, acting as a sort of security blanket for these unnerving times.

And my sixteen-year-old-self waits with baited-breath, wracked with the same nervous excitement I had a decade ago except this time, there's anticipation and expectation, justification, even, for an album I've waited almost half my life for.

While the pace hardly fluctuates wildly, the constant twists and turns create an emotional collage that's stunning: expect to be left contemplative and euphoric in equal measure.

Aat only just in their twenties, they’re still wracked with as much uncertain as they self-assure; a dichotomy conveyed perfectly across Try Not to Freak Out, and something which makes the record both ballsy, and utterly irresistable.

The band's third generation began just after the turn of the century and this LP completes a trilogy of new work that is confident yet vulnerable, refined yet earthy, moody yet flippant, representing a highly commendable contribution to the current scene, suggesting they are more relevant today than ever before.