Carefully structured, ‘MAN MADE’ is able to caress the spartan sonics of ‘Away We Go’, for example, before plunging into the revelatory rock guitar of ‘Sinner’. In bringing such diversity together, the central creator is able to span opposites, and build bridges that perfectly amplify her touching lyricism.

Consistent ruggedness, the sort that brings wicked grins of appreciation, shows a toughening up for new employers.

At times Wolves' polished, pop-tinged punk sounds more like a proffered Pepsi can than a clenched Molotov cocktail, but it is still punk to its bones in a time when the label tends to be skin-deep.

Tribal chanting and desert parties meet drum machines and electrifying guitar riffs in an album that is consistently inventive, mesmerising and incredibly danceable.

Sadly much of the rest of Music Complete is by-the-numbers New Order, and revisionary as opposed to revolutionary.

A strange, lovely and at times genuinely unnerving album that feels like a deep-dive into the subconscious of these hauntology pioneers.

If that's not your bag, then this won't convert you, but if intrigue you have; then check it out.

Catchy riffs and partying aside, this new FIDLAR record actually gets pretty deep.

More in keeping with the spirit of indie rock iconoclasts bar italia, say, than Autechre, it nonetheless feels wholly deserving of its place in the Warp Records catalogue – questing, free, and dissonant, it’s the work of a group who remain steadfast in their ability to challenge themselves.

This is an album that doesn’t really need any artificial bluster to draw attention. The songs are more than good enough.

As You As You Were already feels like a festival anthem in waiting. Stunningly good music.

The good tracks on 'Body Talk' are of such a high quality that it definitely makes it worthwhile to check this album out but you are soon left with a feeling that the subsequent releases in this series will cobble together one amazing album and one really bad one.

All in all, its a beautiful sign of the times - psychedelic and indie focused in melody, with poignant and important lyrics giving a pulse to an otherwise-relaxed-sounding project.

A dazzlingly creative effort, it might well be SHOPPING’s most complete, concise, and fascinating release yet.

This whole album pulses with the emotivity of a cybernetic rainforest.

Since that reboot 12 years ago, they don’t really know what they want to be. So they try all things, and only succeed at some.

There are some surprising hooks amongst predominantly ugly arrangements, and its ambition is admirable, but Plowing… proves woefully lacking in coherency, and fails as its makers’ next evolution.

Not so much Teenage Fanclub as 'Loveless'-era MBV meets classic Cure at their poppiest.

Fresh Air is confidently obtuse in that it expertly harnesses the power in Sagar’s slightly off-kilter and out-of-tune instrumentation.

The lush arrangements highlight his sophistication as a songwriter--‘Impossible’ comes on like ABBA gone synthwave--if sometimes verging towards the saccharine with repeated exposure. Yet this latest collection finds C Duncan in rude health.

Frequently unclassifiable, and never dull, ‘Again’ is a stop-sign on his perpetual onward journey.

Older, wiser, still rocking: Mould’s sounding as electric as ever.

Content Nausea sees the band’s Andrew Savage and Austin Brown bashing out a short, pithy not-quite-an-LP while their fellow bandmates variously become parents and math graduates.

'PREY//IV' is not simply music to listen to: it’s an attempt to communicate genuine pain in ways that simply aren’t possible through a written statement posted online. Little surprise, then, that the lyrics go for the jugular on occasion (“You taste like rotten meat”; “Are you picturing my insides outside of me?”). However, they’re at their most effective when their visceral imagery gives way to narratives of coercion and control, as it does on 'FAIR GAME'

Rather than escalating, it holds its ground, making it one of Sleaford Mods’ most coherent and controlled releases to date.

Towards the end of the album, tracks threaten to meld into each other, making for one big visceral haze of love-lamenting. But beat seekers should find their bag on dynamic tracks like ‘Florida!!!’, a thumping, bewitching collaboration with Florence + The Machine, ‘Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?,’ and triumphantly-erupting, more optimistic ‘I Can Do It With A Broken Heart.’

After sinking your claws into this offering from PAWS one thing will become certain, their ramshackle approach to delivering scuzzy punk rock drenched in delicious distortion is enough to make anyone short of breath.

Keys fails to emulate these peers and instead only succeeds in certain apt production choices and the partial development of her earlier sound. She becomes yet another voice unable to deliver its message.