It is a fabulously undisciplined affair, one that nods to everybody from Stereolab to King Gizzard. Accordingly, it sometimes lacks the urgency of the Mandrake live show, and the conceptual side of the record seems pretty opaque, but there are enough vibrant musical realms to get lost in here.

Electronic and acoustic elements blend cohesively together in a testament to BANKS’ practised skill, even if she hasn’t stepped too far from her established sound.

Admittedly, there’s not much in the way of dynamic surprises here - save for the acoustic-led closer ‘Pharmacy’, perhaps - but for a debut album, it’s a distilled demonstration of their talents thus far.

Will SASAMI be challenging those at pop’s top table for their spots any time soon? Perhaps not, but this latest metamorphosis feels invigorating for both the genre, and the singer herself.

The result is a dynamic, difficult-to-predict listen that gently but deftly rebuts anyone who thinks they already know what Divorce are all about.

Full of heart and introspective, candid lyricism, ‘Hope Handwritten’ is an overall uplifting offering, an ode to navigating the joys and messiness of falling in and out of love, and finding one’s inner strength through the chaos.

A timeless portrayal of both the physical and emotional connection to people and place; fundamentally British yet beautifully universal.

As intoxicating as its predecessor.

Panda Bear’s penchant for innovation has always seemed to conflate seamlessly with his distinctive creative vision. On ‘Sinister Grift’, this takes a more accessible form, showcasing the robustness of his songwriting and ultimately cementing itself as a complete and vivid work.

A vivid and vulnerable album, brimming with emotional depth, occupying its own distinct lane.

In astrology, Jupiter is usually said to represent growth, healing and good fortune, and here, Nao’s fourth more than lives up to its moniker.

With ‘Blindness’, The Murder Capital have crafted an album that feels both urgent and timeless. Simply put, it’s nothing short of a triumph.

A masterclass in an emotional build and release, ‘Like A Ribbon’ is a fascinating release.

‘People Watching’ is a bleak but astonishing rumination on our current times, viewed through the lens of Sam’s whirlwind past few years - an album that undoubtedly firms up his position as one of the great songwriters of our time.

None of this is bad - in fact, it’s a collection of classic pop/rock songwriting - but when introduced with the kind of fanfare it is (and yes, compounded by the band’s past work), it feels safe.

While Horsegirl aren’t presenting groundbreaking musical ideas, on this joyful second outing the band clearly aren’t shying away from new sonic personas.

‘Everyone Says Hi’ is impeccably constructed and quietly lush – although towards the latter half, it does threaten to straddle the line between ‘quiet’ and ‘background music’.

‘Polari’ is a feat of punchy alt-pop that embraces the resilient and immortal histories of the queer community, encapsulating Olly Alexander’s alluring, informed artistry as a solo performer.

As insatiably catchy as it is disarming, the album marries its two sides perfectly.

An extraordinary debut that proves Heartworms is a force to be reckoned with.

Given its significant personal story - not to mention its lofty title - ‘Death & Love Pt. 1’ could have been an opportunity for the band to explore meatier topics of mortality and aging; instead, this feels like a frustratingly safe exercise in walking well-trodden paths.

You wonder whether this might have been the record to elevate Sharon Van Etten to arena status in another era; it is that stylish, that confident.

Yes, Squid have travelled the world, but they have also returned home with a sense of self that’s stronger than ever, as sharp as a razor dripping with freshly drawn blood.

A fresh, vital take on what post-hardcore can sound like in 2025.

Minor quibbles aside, ‘Never Exhale’ is a gripping exercise in textured menace.

It’s easy to see how ‘EUSEXUA’ is already being adopted by fans as something far more than an album, the hazy underground equivalent of BRAT summer with a massive injection of purified sex.

The album’s centrepiece, meanwhile, is classic Mogwai in both title and sound (‘If You Find This World Bad, You Should See Some of the Others’), but for the most part here, the band have committed to subtle reinvention.

A gorgeous debut.

That jasmine.4.t should be part of the Phoebe Bridgers cinematic universe is arguably the most glaringly obvious facet of debut album ‘You Are The Morning’. A record brimming with folksy warmth and vivid storytelling, with song structures that build on themselves so smartly as to belie their frequently six-minute-plus length, it brings the phrase ‘match made in heaven’ in mind.

There is a mesmeric quality to the production on the soothing ‘Vista’, while ‘I Don’t Know What To Save’ builds from a sparse, almost whispered vocal delivery to a euphoric chorus.

Alex Kapranos is on typically droll, playful lyrical form, too, grounding the record in Franz tradition, but the sound of ‘The Human Fear’ suggests a band still brimming with ambition.

Darkness and doom prevail. Just how enjoyable that is depends entirely on how much you are prepared to embrace the darkness, and to submit to Ethel Cain’s semi-fictional world.

Though lyrics are undoubtedly Lambrini Girls’ prime weapon of choice, with Phoebe also spitting home truths about police corruption (‘Bad Apple’), workplace misogyny (‘Company Culture’), industry inequality (‘Filthy Rich Nepo Baby’) and more, the record’s instrumentals nevertheless hold the weight of her words with ease; cleaner, more ambitious, and more diverse than the arrangements on 2023 EP ‘You’re Welcome’, they cement the duo as natural successors to modern punk rock greats like Green Day, SOFT PLAY and Amyl and The Sniffers.

Styles twist and turn, from the unabashed radio pop sound that excites on ‘To Kill A Single Girl (Tequila)’ to surprisingly vulnerable closer ‘I Was The Biggest Curse’ via ‘Sweet & Savage’, which has all the mindbending pace shifts of an early 2000s Xenomania production. Lyrically, meanwhile, she barely misses.

Her sixth album is a masterpiece, showcasing her ability to meld reliable sound palettes with some audacious new tricks.

An album that manages to be poignant and pointed without sacrificing any of its unabashed sparkle, ‘Vicious Creature’ adds even more dimension to the Chvrches singer; a sonic origin story that’s been well worth the wait.

‘The Weightless Hour’ is a mature record that sounds completely at peace with its place in life.

As perhaps one of the most refreshing voices in indie folk, ‘Seed Of A Seed’ sees Haley Heynderickx harnessing a uniquely spellbinding and sensitive power.

Kendrick’s sixth studio LP is a masterstroke - exquisitely fuelled by his love of his home city of Compton and his rage at his storied adversary, Drake.

An intimate but confident record that reveals more of its magic with every listen.

Across the board, ’Mahashmashana’ might be his best to date, an album that ploughs a relentlessly adventurous furrow while striking a compelling balance between the epic and the intimate.

Deal demonstrates an appetite for sonic adventure and an ability to disarm and surprise us on ‘Nobody Loves You More’, even after all these years.

There are points here where it threatens to remain a little samey – the ‘80s radio pop of ‘Yesterday’ quickly becomes repetitive, while ‘ICU’ hints at something more yet never quite gets going – but mostly ‘Sniff More Gritty’ is another solid release.

A definitive debut.

Lyrically, the record feels like an exercise in catharsis, while sonically it’s like the exhale of relief which follows. Wistful and tenderly so, ‘Paradise Pop. 10’ is completely entrancing.

‘The Good Kind’ is a slow burner, but a rewarding one.

A group refusing to stand still, this is another chapter in a band priding themselves on forward movement while celebrating their storied past.

Effortlessly jumping between belted choruses and wistful pauses for vulnerability, she orients herself around the conflicting forces of uncertainty and longing.

It’s almost as if the record has been pieced together from three parts: first, a series of demos (which may indeed fit with the record having begun its life during the singer’s series of low-key fan-booked gigs throughout 2020); second, a handful of tracks that posit Elias as a scratchy, troubadour Mick Jagger (a look which suits him completely, pun intended); and third, a pair of gorgeously-recorded and perfectly delivered cover versions (Spacemen 3’s ‘Walking With Jesus’, retitled ‘Sound of Confusion’, and Townes van Zandt’s ‘No Place To Fall’). Unfortunately, these follow a series of tracks on which Elias tries on others’ identities a little too obviously.

A little of the opening tracks’ emotional impact is lost in their sugary, pixel-perfect presentation - particularly the otherwise punchy ‘Street Fighter’ – but that aside, ‘Mirror Starts Moving Without Me’ is a rewarding listen.

Christopher Owens has emerged from it with potentially one of the year’s best records.

The retro fadeout in High Vis’ opening title track perfectly captures the zeitgeist of their third album, one that pairs Britpop swagger with traditional hardcore fury across eleven tracks that deliberately never fully commit to either style.

‘Patterns In Repeat’ is both stunningly intimate and endearingly raw.

It’s when the pattern deviates somewhat from the expected that ‘The Night The Zombies Came’ is at its most exciting: the ’50s sonic cues that peppered ‘Doggerel’ remain, but the spite doesn’t.

Much like grief, ‘Evergreen’ has its highs and lows, but ultimately, it makes you feel less alone and like you’re going to be OK.

Here Dana’s lyricism and delivery land closer to the depth of feeling of Sharon Van Etten or Weyes Blood (‘Wednesday’; ‘In A Dream’), their evolution over the album’s course reflecting its slow but sure tilt towards thematic light.

By wrestling with the implications of their carefree early years on this final release, Japandroids have ensured they’ll be remembered not just as party starters, but as thoughtful songwriters, too.

The shifts are subtle but notable, providing another brilliant backdrop for Jeremy’s largely pained candour.

‘The 8th Cumming’ might have humour within it, but there’s also substance to be found among all the bodily substances.

It’s an impressively cohesive record, which builds on their penchant for hooky punk rock and refines it into something punchier and more addictive.

‘I Confess, I Guess’ too is a little too mid-paced to leave anything to hold on to. But where the songs work with and without context, it’s a joy.

‘Concrete’ goes some distance in evoking The Weeknd’s late-night drive pop, but its obvious lyrics aren’t believable. ‘Split Lip’ nods to Harry Styles in its melancholy, but fails to pack a punch in its production.

Not everything works, but far more does than you’d expect, given how gleefully the band seem to be throwing anything and everything at the wall to see what sticks.

With such a joyous energy across the record, it’s easy to get lost in its layers.

The literary heft of the record leaves slim pickings for pure listening. The familiarity of the vocal line on ‘He’ provides a satisfactory hook, ‘She’ is dreamy and melancholy, while ‘In The Green Chapel’ combines Hayden’s still-unmistakeable vocal with a softly-plucked guitar line that bears similarity to New Order’s ‘True Faith’.

Ultimately, on ‘Leon’, Bridges crafts an album that is at once deeply personal, and yet expansive and shared.

Absolutely bonkers and utterly brilliant, if black midi’s indefinite hiatus was the high price for ‘The New Sound’, then it was a price worth paying.

‘See You At The Maypole’ is a challenging listen not through sound or even particularly subject matter, but in not reaching its end under a similarly black cloud as the record itself.

Aan album that proves he’s more than capable on his own.

With the sum of the trio’s musical parts now known, and this quite literally coming from the same sessions as their previous, to summarise ‘Cutouts’ as more of the same might seem a tad obvious a statement to make, but it’s just about the most accurate.

Chappell Roan’s debut is thoughtful, a little unhinged and entirely contradictory, merging the alt-pop seriousness of Lana Del Rey with the untethered preppy charm of Lorde to go full throttle into messy, emotional fun.

This posthumous self-titled release feels more commemorative than conclusive. It’s a welcome celebration; an answerphone message revisited. It’s no ‘OIL…’, but it’s pure SOPHIE.

It doesn’t rest on what has come before, landing somewhere between the ‘80s new wave of their debut and mainstream pop, now with the self-expression of a far more confident songwriter.

The album’s title suggests consistency, but in fact, it is a thrillingly unpredictable musical journey.

On ‘Transparent Things’, she finds the balance between spectacle and subtlety.

‘Someday, Now’ is a departure but a truly successful one, full of sublime vocals and creative confidence.

In isolation, there’s a lot to enjoy among these tracks, but together, ‘Like All Before You’ requires a lot of listens and maybe a couple of aspirin to translate.

Like stepping into a universe of the duo’s making, almost, it’s the kind of sonic escapism that’s akin to reading a good book.

‘Life’ provides a pure pop moment of the most joyous kind. Enlisting the Swedish icon to soundtrack a moment of dancefloor euphoria is in itself a masterstroke, but the track’s looped hook possesses the kind of earwormy immediacy that brings to mind Y2K staples ‘Lady (Hear Me Tonight)’ from French duo Modjo and Spiller’s Sophie Ellis-Bextor featuring ‘Groovejet (If This Ain’t Love)’.

An often whimsical, occasionally scattershot yet wryly self-aware collection of songs which run a musical gamut from Lana Del Rey’s Old Hollywood-channelling balladry to grunge pop – or more succinctly, much like a late noughties Tumblr given the same name.

An album that is brimming with curiosity and exploration – an album on which, from the off, Nilüfer strives to make an excavation of the core of who she is. More expansive and undiluted than its predecessors, she seems to find room to explore both sonically and lyrically.

‘WOOF.’ is brilliant, dark, and downright batshit crazy.

It’s in the less expected that ‘Lagos Paris London’ offers most; the sheer softness of ‘Under The Strikes’ displays a vocal turn that in other contexts may prove completely unrecognisable; and in particular the introspective, sparse yet groove-laden ‘Night Green, Heavy Love’, on which a staccato bassline contrasts with Yannis’ high-pitched vocal to create a wholly disorienting mood.

Another compelling chapter in Enumclaw’s story so far.

Even on ‘Short n’ Sweet’’s less standout moments, Sabrina is still the spicy kick at its centre, ready to deliver a cheeky wink at every turn.

‘Wild God’ aims for transcendence, and finds it.

His debut also conjures the rabble rousing of early Blur through a Peaches-meets-xcx lens. As a whole, ‘What’s Wrong With New York?’ is a beaming and brilliant moment for both The Dare and its inspired take on historical noughties pop.

They have made bold strides on ‘VIVA HINDS’, enlisting A-list guest stars and following the lead of their last record by venturing into fresh territory: ‘Mala Vista’ pairs Spanish-language vocals with a groove-driven guitar, while there’s a touch of dream-pop to spacey closer ‘Bon Voyage’.

‘Midas’ has the excitement and energy of a debut album, but the wisdom and restraint that comes from experience, making it a touchstone for what a great band can achieve.

Though as a whole it might not be as indelible as its predecessors, Malice K is certainly an artist to keep your eye on.

An album that does absolute justice to her status as a new, genre-defying voice in rock. From the drum and bass drive of ‘Sex Metal’, through to the more bubblegum pop of ‘Sugar Rush’, via the reflective epic of ‘Over It’, these fourteen tracks swerve through different iterations of the genre with confidence and ease.

That Fontaines DC are accomplished, assured songwriters and musicians is well-established by now, but it’s such a joy to hear they are also (whisper it) quite fun.

‘Forever’ balances the frivolity of youth with its turbulent realities, all through the sun-kissed lens of the past and the band’s almighty guitar pop sound.

86TVs are clearly cut from the same cloth as The Maccabees, but a newfound succinctness and dynamism make for a forward-facing project.

Perhaps not the album that will secure the band’s legacy, but one that reminds their cult following that the boys can play hard as well as work hard.

That Lava La Rue has managed to tame such huge ambition into a long-in-the-making debut that’s inventive but accessible and never outstays its welcome is a feat not to be diminished.

[‘Everything and Nothing’] feels like the perfect, emotive closer for a band who’ve come a long way to get here, but have made easily their best album yet by simply being themselves.

Ultimately, ‘I Love You So F***ing Much’ is as confident, self-aware and ambitious as a record by a band who’d rocketed skyward last time around should be.