At times it feels far too long.... Yet on the whole it remains impressively cohesive, and perhaps more importantly (and surprisingly) never feels like they're going through the motions.

A record that plays like an unwieldy and unravelling ode to all the twists and turns of Brockhampton’s journey.

In close proximity of each other, ‘Call It What You Want’, ‘Perfect’ and ‘Onwards And Upwards’ are a little too timid, each simply brushing against each other with no discernible difference. These are only minor concerns when everything else is as captivating as they are.

Tender New Signs may be an exhausting listen but it is definitely a rewarding one.

Contrary to the band’s name, there are a lot of joys to be found in Wait To Pleasure.

What the streamlined sound of ‘Homecoming’ lacks in broad musical scope, it more than makes up for in attitude.

For the most part, the record is a heady trip that prances around greatness but settles for pretty good.

Strange Pleasures is an album of cinematic charm and where, with the weight lifted off his shoulders, Hughes has created a journey along a dark motorway that adds light and colour to stand out from the traffic.

Nothing quite comes close to ‘Cars In Space’ for desk-slapping earwormery, but with three singer-guitarists at play, the music chops and weaves with an impressive intricacy, always stopping itself short of self-indulgence. If you’re looking for a modern, uplifting celebration of all things riff, these boys have got your back.

But for all the moments that tend towards fun-but-silly ‘70s musical theatre, there are plenty that, in isolation, ring with the kind of sepia-soaked sweetness that most genuinely don’t make anymore. The Lemon Twigs might not always take themselves seriously, but you’d be remiss to dismiss them as a joke.

While ‘V’ has the tendency to revisit some familiar ground, it achieves what the best double albums do - plants solid gems along the road, envelops the listener with clever sequencing tricks and builds a whole world to roam.

It’s the same melodies and patterns as the group have long favoured, but even the potentially cringeworthy ‘Screens’ (a song about, of course, how we’re all glued to them) barely raises a shrug when surrounded by such luscious, bombastic sounds. By focusing on minutiae, too, what is ostensibly a lockdown album (hello, reference to Zoom interviews) avoids cliche.

It doesn't try too hard to be cool or rock climb your intellect but makes you smile, dance and sing away to yourself in places you shouldn't.

It’s definitely a progression from her last album into a more profound and polished sound.

A People’s History of Gauche captures both the rotten societal traits and inspiring persistence that is often associated with people on the ground.

The liberal use of string sections throughout do teeter on the brink of out-and-out cheese but Cowley's trio have enough class and, dare I say, verve to pull through.

While it does see Faye and her band at their most musically warm and open - nearly every track is a devastating beauty - lyrically she feels more closed off than ever before.

Tales From Terra Firma offers a richer, fuller sound than the debut album and some tracks are tinged with an ever-so-gentle coating of sobriety and growing maturity but the important components of melody and subtlety are relatively unchanged.

Channeling everyone from Talking Heads to ESG, BODEGA remain as giddy and funked-up as ever. And on this highly danceable new addition they barely make a mis-step.

With Liam’s solo career on a high, it’ll be interesting to see where more experimentation leads him next - although somewhat of a mixed bag here, it’s thrilling to see him stray from the formula he knows too well.

There is a real sense of Smith genuinely expressing himself through the number of strutting guitar solos and melodic flourishes

Lauv’s second record certainly provides an array of sweet pop highs, but still doesn’t quite show us who the writer behind it all really is.

An intriguing side project that adds to the pair’s already storied careers.

The album proves to be a glacial melt of shimmering beauty, asking for attention and rewarding it with a kind of zen.

As an introduction to the man and a myth he’s already constructing it’s a very enticing and exciting one, if there’s more to come at this level from him true classics await.

Adam’s still the pied piper of indie, with a skip in his step and charm for days.

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.

For the rest of us, Natasha’s first real pop effort since ‘Fur and Gold’ is an impressively lean and infectiously hook-laden romp; doomy disco for dark times.

While none of the tracks outstay their welcome, there’s a paradoxical problem in that the constant catalogue of textures begins to feel retrodden.

Unperturbed by overkill, the anthemic choral hooks and supercharged production values deliver a thrilling spectacle, even if the band are yet to realise their inflated ambitions.

Sophisticated yet uncomplicated, misty yet vibrant, luxurious yet disquieting, 'Melody's Echo Chamber' is a lovely record full of dualities.

Bastille’s choral, digestible power pop DNA is present, but grittier than usual.

Recorded with longtime producer Neal Avron, Southern Air isn't a major step away from the band's previous work but a return to the original fire of their early years.

The cover boasts No Thrills, but listen to the music inside and you'll know nothing can be further from the truth.

Where Westerman’s debut suffers is in its consistency: there’s such a distinctive sonic palette that, within a batch of tracks whose tempo never steps past ‘mid’, it’s hard for individual offerings to always stand out. But really he’s done the hard work; now Westerman’s defined his niche, all he has to do is refine it a little.

Energetic, furious and deeply lamentful, perhaps the main achievement here is how Italia 90 so forwardly address a near fifty-year old cultural heritage which so many depend on yet take for granted.

Regardless of how wonderful, awful or daunting it sounds in principle, Laibach command that you listen to it regardless.

Despite an overall likeability and affable sheen--it’s a little flatter than that.

At times, the overly-clean production does the songs themselves a disservice, but otherwise everything about ‘Panic Shack’ feels in its right place. Book-ended by two tracks about friendship, this is a debut that presents its protagonists as a gang everyone’s going to want to join.

Twenty years on from their debut, ‘The Big Come Up’, it’s a statement of how far they’ve come, as well as an indicator of where they might be heading next.

Umberto has created something which, despite being by its very nature incidental, is incredibly enveloping.

There’s still that personable rawness to her production – the synthetic drums and often sparse arrangement mirroring her frequently despondent lyrical themes (“The death of everything real has happened…” begins ‘apathy is wild’). But her vocal offers warmth.

As a listen, it doesn’t always completely land, but when it does it’s truly exciting. As an artist, ‘Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd’ shows Lana Del Rey pushing herself perhaps more than ever.

A reminder of the echoing, scatter-brain drumming trips of the good old days.

It’s comforting like an old blanket. Perhaps a bit itchy in places, but when things get cold it’s just what you need.

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.

While stuffing itself with enough insight to force its listeners to acknowledge contemporary issues, also present is enough charm and wit to remind us of the importance to having a little fun along the way.

Sucker Punch does much as the name suggests. It’s full of swooping, dramatic choruses and clean-cut vocals, where almost every song is a potential radio hit--only that’s not a bad thing.

This record might not quite affiliate the soundtrack to your stereotypical image of a hoedown, but it’d more than cater for the boozy walk home under starry skies.

Gone the mangled Nuggets riffs and LSD infected yelps, replaced instead by slide guitars and deranged yee-haws. It shouldn’t really work, but it does.

The trick is that, while you know that she's stretching, she never sounds anything less than completely comfortable and in total control.

‘GULP!’ isn’t Sports Team’s number one-scoring album (that could well be still to come). What it does offer is a heft of new ammo for pint-flinging, moshpitting chaos on the dancefloor.

This is one of the most engaging dance albums you're likely to hear this year.

‘Children of the Sky’ and ‘Gravity’ both prove that its possible for the duo to summon up genuine atmosphere without bogging down the songs with overcooked compositions. There’s still the odd experimental misstep - the meandering ‘Eyes of the Overworld’ in particular - but for the most part, ‘X…’ is endearingly light on its feet in a manner that suggests a real rejuvenation in Conrad and Jason’s creative partnership.

‘Natural Brown Prom Queen’ is Sudan Archives’ most accessible record to date. An unashamedly brash and confident one, but much more subtle and realistic. Rumbling beats, smooth R&B grooves, with just a touch of the experimental. Yet, in opening itself wider, it loses some of the sharp idiosyncrasies that made the early material so exciting.

Even when 'Turns Turns Turns' or the astonishingly upfront 'Bugs Don't Buzz' offer vital, personal refuge, an evil, grating side to you will crave a crescendo, a clamouring climax all coloured and epic. Majical Cloudz is the antithesis of such, but when he flirts with dangerous grey areas, he actually ends up striking gold.

While ‘Harlecore’ may be primed to bring the party, it’s just not quite the mad one we were hoping for.

Individually these would be two good albums. But as a complimentary pair they become much more.

While ‘I Love You Like A Brother’ was littered with memorable choruses that would be lodged in your brain after one listen, it takes a good while of digging into ‘The Best Of Luck Club’ to find something that sticks.

Musically, it’s the ‘Lips at their most fully-realised. It may not get your feet moving but it’ll tug at the heartstrings. Each track builds up slowly like a rising tide that eventually envelops you. Compelling stuff.

While the album may find itself guilty of treading the line of pretty-but-unassuming at times - the sheer beauty of every detail is impressive, if not a little tiring - ‘Time’s Arrow’ remains a sumptuous listen.

Yet as overt and outwardly targeted the likes of ‘The Men Who Rule The World’ and ‘Godhead’ are (“would you deceive me if I had a dick?” Shirley asks on the latter), the album finds space for the introversion that has previously allowed Garbage to cross over.

there is an extremely satisfying sense of fun throughout Island Fire (despite the dark content) and Ray is very much in on the joke.

An extended gap since their last full-length outing has resulted in their sharpest raft of material since ‘Cease to Begin’.

Nature Noir' is very much Crystal Stilts sticking to their well-trodden formula, conforming as they are, essentially, to their own trademark sounds. But it's also the sound of a band retaining the best of their identity: sharp melodies, steady drum fills and discordant synth still all underpin Brad's sleepy, monotonic vocals.

Nothing quite matches 'This Is What It Feels Like', but that alone is enough to give genuine reason to BANKS' mighty cause.

This is music that desires to be clutched to youthful hearts and fill sun-bleached fields or golden coastlines; a hunger to delight that is so insatiable it’s rather tough to question.

While at times he toys with jazz (‘Velvet Dreams’ and ‘Oil Slick’) these moments are fleeting enough to be endured, safe in the knowledge that we’ll be taken back to the fluffy R&B dreamland before long. Sunday nights might never be the same again.

Hung At Heart is not a particularly forward-thinking album with all of its 15 songs dealing in homespun 60s grooves, but this is a largely irrelevant quibble when the songs are this good.

There aren’t any standalone tracks, with the arguable exception of ‘Pop Song’. In that sense this is an album in its truest form, a record to sit with and take in as one whole.

Hazy and forlorn but peaceful record, one that reaffirms their stake in the genre.

Everything feels less claustrophobic than on ‘Control’ as synths soar, rather than constrict. Beats bounce and guitars are led by the groove. Throughout ‘YU’, we see a grander side of her.

It's oddly accomplished, and Winston's classical background shines through.

‘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.

Wire have proven that it’s possible to stretch possibilities through the introduction of outside influence. Youngsters take note, the past can be your friend.

Admittedly, there is probably nothing on While A Nation Sleeps that quite scales the peaks of the their finest works, there is no 'Rookie', no 'My Life in the Knife Trade' but there are plenty of pulse quickening moments for fans and non-fans alike.

The beats may occasionally be interchangeable, but several cuts stand out, such as the minimal speaker-blower ‘SKED’ and the menacing ‘Hit The Floor’. Each track features a guest spot, which helps provide their sometimes homogenous nature with personality.

‘Half Divorced’ is a bolshy barrage played out over the course of 12 short, sharp tracks.

It’s still a worthwhile successor to them, of course. It’s just not the world-beater she’s surely capable of.

A feather-light collection of alt-country, packed with pedal steel, lilting melodies and Buck’s own evocative Texan burr.

Cave Rave is outlandish, silly, summery and as brilliant as its title, and Crystal Fighters have somehow managed to continue in making their seemingly unattainable mix of traditional instrumentation and ideas and dubby electronics work without disaster.

‘Book of Churches’ is a debut effort rich with promise.

If you were expecting a post-rock album, you've come to the wrong place; this is something sharper, more accessible, sure, but no less clever.

The few hints towards more modern fare - the undulating yet ultimately forgettable ‘Whirlpool’, closer ‘Everything’s Been Leading To This’ with its ‘80s keys and distinctly ‘00s indie air - could’ve been left on the cutting room floor, but overall ‘Reset’ is as warm a listen as Sonic Boom’s near-forgotten records must’ve been in lockdown Lisbon.

A curious album that is well worth investigating.

London Grammar have created an album of graceful sophistication.

Not perfect, then, but further evidence that their upwards climb remains a steady one.

While songs like 'Significant Bullet' and 'Leominster' feel like slightly unnecessary inclusions and can cause the listening experience to drag slightly, this is a very impressive record with some truly excellent songs.

In sound, it sits somewhere between the sparse nature of ‘folklore’ and the overt pop of ‘Midnights’, across its two hours settling into a steady pace that forgoes massive fan favourites in favour of a continuous pull on the heartstrings. The issue with a two-hour album is that you’re not going to hit the mark on every track (no song should have three exclamation marks in the title), and it’s tricky to keep momentum when the name of the game is introspective storytelling.

While it occasionally feels lacking in the kind of explosive energy that made the band such an impact in the late ‘80s, it still captures the spirit of Pixies in a way that’s extremely satisfying.

While they could go darker, grizzlier, or even shinier, I Love You achieves what few debuts can, by making one hell of an opening statement.

Evans The Death's debut album is full of promise in bitesize two-minute chunks, and we can expect to see more from them in the future.

Geese manage to add interesting new wrinkles to their sound, suggesting that, in time, the post-punk rulebook could yet be ripped up all over again.

A more pure and intense sound, less manufactured and acutely heartfelt.

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.

Emotionally honest, across its twelve tracks the group detail feelings of longing, losing your sense of self and awaiting something more in a wholly atmospheric manner. Ripping up their rulebook? Hardly. Giving long-time fans something new to enjoy? You bet.

Young Dreams have created a collection that compacts all the sunny sounds of youthful hopes and expectations into one blissful whole.

They're bold, they're tight in their production and they're not afraid to strip things back to their bare essentials or allow outside influences to shine through.