[‘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.

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.

Among the signature melancholy, there’s a sense of contentment to ‘All Hell’ – for a band once a byword for angst, that is a triumph in itself.

‘God Said No’ is profound and romantic, decadent and suave, and as ever, Omar is at the helm.

It’s a distinctly eclectic affair – the product of a Devonshire writing retreat on which Liu evidently experimented with new equipment and ideas – but there’s nevertheless a cohesion that prevents her often touching lyrical subtlety from becoming overwhelmed by uncanny instrumentation. And it’s the gentle push and pull between these two facets that colour the album as somehow both intimate and personal, yet fundamentally universal.

A debut with such a title as this does imply an artist still trying things on for size, and there are certainly a handful of emotionally astute, smart indie pop gems to be found among it.

A record that’s as skilled in pop immediacy as it is emotional expression; a lyrical gaze that looks as deeply inside as out; an artist who, on this debut album, can seemingly do just about anything.

There ‘One Foot In Front Of The Other’ saw her present a distilled version of herself, the 14-track ‘vertigo’ is at times spread a little thin. .... The sum of ‘vertigo’’s parts is triumphant in quality.

This is a record that stands up well against the high bar set by her debut in both scope and ambition.

Despite clocking in at just under 52 minutes, never does ‘BUTU’ feel anything but relentlessly frenetic fun. From its breakneck bonkers energy, to the more slowed-down moments, this is absolutely one for the ravers.

There are a couple of misses, particularly ‘G.O.A.T’’s obvious attempt at a sports montage soundtrack, but largely ‘Happenings’ is full of genuinely interesting choices. Free to indulge all the multitudes of his tastes, Pizzorno is managing, against many odds, to keep Kasabian moving forward.

It begs to be listened to again and again, and to soundtrack warm nights spent ruminating or engaged in the kind of conversations that can only come late in the night. The intricacies of ‘Charm’ demand to be intimately known.

Towa shows a lot of promise on ‘American Hero’, but this is a record which doesn’t quite know how best to use her strengths.

The quartet may have bucked expectations here, but in venturing into the shadows, they’ve made their boldest move yet.

Debut album ‘WeirdOs’ cements the pair as one of the UK’s most intriguing newcomers. The record is pretty succinct at under 40 minutes, but the twists and turns it takes give it staying power.

The album will chew you up, spit you out, and disorient you, and once you’re back out, withdrawals from the pandemonium will make you want to do it all over again.

Clocking in at 14 tracks, the Perth outfit here manage to blend evolution within their artistry, while still keeping in touch with their otherworldly roots.

‘9 Sad Symphonies’ is an album of time-travelling ‘Merry Happy’-ish fables, where Kate paints the British woman in an Americanised world, making romantic strife a cinematic epic, effortlessly capturing and healing the hyperbole of her heart, a needed return from Britain’s most emotionally deft and comedically deadpan pop artist.

A technicolour triumph that’s his most ambitious, maximalist, and forward-facing work yet, ‘Radiosoul’ shows Alfie Templeman to be not just ‘good for his age’, but an assured, fully-formed artist capable of holding his own beside some of the industry’s best.

‘The Gloss’ might not hold a candle to the Television-esque majesty of ‘Sun Coming Down’ - an era firmly in their rearview mirror - but it shows that, together, Darcy’s wit, Stidworthy’s precision, and Cartwright’s skeletal rhythms create something special. It’s not quite a reinvention, but they’re still seeking new horizons.

The album’s strong-enough opening does little to distract from the toil of the tail end. The end result is an album that feels far longer than its sub-40 minute runtime.

‘Fine Art’ should be viewed much like any great work: as a whole. And as a whole, it’s totally unique, totally committed and totally thrilling – just don’t tell the government.

‘The Art Of The Lie’ won’t act as an accessible gateway into John Grant’s catalogue, but for those already sold, it’s a deeper excavation into the mind of the man.

Monolithic in nature, the world-building on ‘What Happened to the Heart?’ makes a bleeding heart – both for self and the earth – appear rapturous and unfathomably healing.

‘Eels Time!’ is arguably a touch one-track, and more casual fans may pine for the sonic diversity of ‘Souljacker’. Those who love E at his most contemplative, though, will find plenty to like.

The trifecta of tracks which deal with drummer Roo’s experiences of addiction - ‘words fell out’, ‘tcnc’, and ‘take it away’ - are each stunningly potent in markedly different ways, ultimately highlighting the significance of resilience and mutual support as a means of refashioning ourselves in a new, better image.

Throughout ‘I Hear You’, there’s a clear intention to create something beyond what Peggy Gou is typically renowned for, yet it doesn’t always quite hit.

If there was a sense that Natasha had perhaps lost her way slightly on the conceptual likes of ‘The Bride’ and ‘Lost Girls’, she finds her feet again magnificently here, with simplicity key; the lyrics, the melodies, the gorgeous intertwining of piano and synth.

If ‘BRAT’ will ultimately push Charli XCX into mainstream pop’s top tier still remains to be seen, but it absolutely guarantees the best night out of your life.

Kai James’ overt framing of the album acts as a sort of meta literary device, immediately establishing its character and concept (namely, himself and his own mental ill-health) with the narrative nous of fellow Aussie Courtney Barnett. Indeed, over the course of the next ten tracks, it’s as if you’ve been transposed directly into James’ frontal cortex.

The Brooklyn four-piece have produced something truly special. This is a real statement of a record, one that sees them forge ever further skyward in their pursuit of monolithic shoegaze (‘Brown Paper Bag’, ‘Somber the Drums’) while also exploring softer territory on tracks so thick with atmosphere that their queasy melodies gnaw at the marrow of your bones.

In making louder and trendier her monolithic artistry, ‘HIT ME HARD AND SOFT’ sees her hitting somehow even higher highs. It’s her best yet, and an affecting sign of the times.

Zayn’s fourth is admirable in its emotional mining, is rich in execution and soul, and indeed his brain-scratching melodic riffs will have die-hard fans blushing - but even on this, what we’re told is his ‘most vulnerable’ release, the treading of the long-trodden, stripped-back, ex-boyband desire path leaves the record wanting for just a little more Zayn sparkle.

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

A strong and audacious debut.

With such a consistently adept and fresh discography, it’s impossible to call this album St Vincent’s best, yet it’s quite easily her fullest, building on everything she’s already achieved while also treading new ground. If she is to be known by one record, let it be ‘All Born Screaming’.

‘OUI, LSF’ is a storming return that suggests that, far from having run out of steam, the possibilities for Les Savy Fav are again endless.

What’s remarkable about ‘What A Devastating Turn Of Events’, though, is that the gravitas of this weightier material isn’t cheapened by the sudden contrast, just as the LP’s initial buoyancy somehow doesn’t become retrospectively flippant. Instead, the album honours that life’s lightness isn’t contradicted by the dark moments, but rather co-exists alongside them; a reminder that everything – and everyone – contains multitudes.

‘POSTINDUSTRIAL HOMETOWN BLUES’ is not the soothing salve for a country tearing itself apart. Instead, it is the molotov cocktail and lighter threatening to ignite the people into taking action.

On ‘Britpop’, a record that exists at the cusp of a portal between medieval England and a spritely electronic future, Cook’s mastery of the esoteric is singular – and a strong argument for the term to retain this new, additional meaning.

Overall, it’s a testament to the world-class songwriting of The Lemon Twigs that at no point does the record fall into the realms of ‘too much’. For most, it would be hard to strike that balance, but The Lemon Twigs absolutely master the art of crooning sugary pop-rock in the best of ways.

On her hugely-anticipated third, there’s plenty of sun-drenched sonic optimism but not so much that’s all that radical.

It’s a joyful listen from start to finish; a playful, experimental, and carefully crafted debut, which is hopefully just the beginning of what Bullion has to offer.

The sheer number of curtain-drop moments is remarkable, somehow never overused or superfluous. There’s a mastery in the songwriting, too: simultaneously gut-wrenching and incredibly cathartic, continuing a thread that has underpinned the band’s material this far.

While the album ends with an echoed sigh of melancholic relief: “Finally I’m on my own”. It’s indicative of the confidence that runs through the band’s long-awaited debut, one that paints ‘Teething’ as both the party and the comedown.

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.

Dylan Baldi’s vocals are presented in a somewhat hushed manner, turning what could be a bona fide rock banger (there’s a pep in this chorus, to be sure) into an also-ran. On the numbers that more closely resemble the Cloud Nothings trademark sound - see the melodic ‘Mouse Policy’, or the bright ‘The Golden Halo’ - it’s an ideal fit.

The jazz-imbued one-two of ‘Light As Grass’ and ‘Could You Help Me’ gives the record a rich introduction, while ‘Sail Away’ descends into a heady, dance-tinged mist; by the time the funky gratitude of ‘The Racket’ closes proceedings (“I won’t let you bring me down”), it’s hard not to be in awe of the scale of her growth and transformation in every sense of the word.

In doubling down on her niche - that is, artsy Scandi-indie-pop - ’I’M DOING IT AGAIN BABY!’ is girl in red at her most realised.

Perhaps best of all is how direct the whole thing is, typified by ‘Glass Eye’, on which the outfit’s uncompromising sound brings sonic clarity while sporadic backing vocals offer classic ‘90s boyband echoes. A solid record.

‘Abomination’ is a singular debut and quintessential cultural capsule - of both post-post-punk and gay modernity - from one of the UK’s most fearless off-piste queer acts.

The picture it paints as a whole is a hugely rich one - not just of the album itself, but of English Teacher as the opposite of a flash-in-the-pan buzz band; as a group really only just getting started.

Now, the scuzz and rough edges of their younger selves is swapped out for the fizz and crackle of these vital reworkings, which take in some of their most varied sounds to date; in amongst the usual post-punk vigour are hints of shoegaze, psychedelia and - on the standout ‘Major Amberson’ - melodic pop.

There’s a slight irony in the fact that an album so jam-packed is entitled ‘Silence Is Loud’, but the remarkable feat of Nia Archives’ debut is that it somehow never feels too much or too choppy; for all its referential nods and sonic variation, this is still a project that is cohesively, distinctly her.

‘Don’t Forget Me’ is the sound of an artist finally beginning to sink cosily into her own skin, and enjoying herself enormously in the process.

‘Found Heaven’ does, at times, feel a bit like you could play ‘iconic ‘80s songs’ bingo. .... But, when his influences are worn as heart-on-sleeve as they are here – and, crucially, are executed as well – the overall effect is one of knowing homage rather than tribute act.

A luscious album that sees the singer shrug off the pressures of present day virality in favour of creating something much more classic.

While better executed at certain points than others, the band’s varied selection of instrumental textures remains a defining feature; from the riff-driven frenzy of ‘Talking Radiance’ to the minimalist, piano-led touch of ‘Venus’, there’s an inharmonious harmony that pervades.

Bob Vylan still have a lot to be furious about, but ‘Humble As The Sun’ is a winning exercise in shifting focus; after all, as the old saying goes, the best revenge is living well.

There’s an altogether calmer atmosphere on display here, that in its beauty forgoes some of the immediacy that characterised her earlier catalogue’s stand-out moments.

Because ‘You’ll Pay’, ‘Read Em And Weep’, ‘Only Love’, ‘Fever Tree’ (a charming cover of William Bell’s ‘I Forgot To Be Your Lover’), and ‘Don’t Let Me Go’ are all peppered with a shimmering strut, and the kind of euphoria that’s surely only a well-filmed choreo sequence away from the kind of virality enjoyed by Jungle of late. And this is a lane that fits The Black Keys like a glove.

So, taking all the wide-eyed playfulness of their earlier work, and the confidence in creating a sonic tapestry of their latter, ‘Only God Was Above Us’ is both their most accomplished and most Vampire Weekend album yet.

Even the weakest Libs composition is a standard many British songwriters can only aspire to, to this day. If nothing else, it’s heartwarming that the story is still unfolding for the Likely Lads.

By opening up their songwriting process, the band have managed to carve out an even more singular sound. The possibilities from here seem endless.

A well-rounded collection of songs, ‘Girlfriend Material’ shows Lauren as an artist coming into her own, and her enjoyment shines through in her music.

Brave in its deeply honest expression, it’s a beautiful record that tactfully captures the often confusing and contradicting feelings when truly in love.

‘Real Power’ sits around the mid-tempo rather than going hell for leather as they may have done in younger years. Far from a slip into the middle of the road however, they find new ways to make it interesting.

More than anything, ‘Tigers Blood’ is a refinement of the blueprint laid down by ‘Saint Cloud’, and a showcase of Katie at the peak of her powers.

A post-break-up sexual revolution decorated with metaphor and sonic experimentation, that’s both dizzyingly unique and creatively assertive, this is a comeback that demands accolade.

Sitting somewhere between say Beyoncé’s auteur-like use of collaborators on ‘Lemonade’ and how Grimes’ ‘Art Angels’ saw the contrary Canadian flex shimmering, glossy pop nous, ‘Caprisongs’ has twigs throwing out hooks left, right and centre.

Steeped in blissful American nostalgia, Bleachers’ sublime self-titled fourth studio album embodies it all, from the rolling vistas to the warmth of distant city lights, at once watching the world pass by and deeply cemented in a moment. It’s rare for an album to capture a feeling so intensely, promoting a universal recognition through something so intrinsically linked to an individual’s time and place.

Between the excitement of the new on ‘Glasgow Eyes’ and the presence of the more classic, indie rock side of the band on tracks like ‘The Eagles and The Beatles’, the band appear to have tapped into a rich new vein of songwriting form. On this evidence, here’s to the next forty.

By the album’s end - thanks, in part, to the droning noise and scuffed beats on closer ‘Dream Dollar’ - there’s a definite sense of the walls closing in. Here the distance Kim Gordon has forged, both across the album and throughout her career, is falling away - and the gap between music and art seems smaller than ever.

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

There’s a fine line between using a formula and sticking to it, and it’s the smart way in which Sheer Mag do the former that makes ‘Playing Favorites’ so enthralling.

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.

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

The band’s most concise sound yet whilst never taking itself too seriously, as Mannequin Pussy continue to dominate a world of their own creation.

An album that continues the quartet’s knack for pairing potent socio-political commentary with delicious pop nous.

‘Where’s My Utopia?’ is as much a joy intellectually as it is musically, a leap in the right direction from one of our most promising groups of the day.

‘Blood, Hair and Eyeballs’ is a level, if somewhat uninteresting, addition to the Alkaline Trio lexicon. Fans will find pockets of the band they fell in love with, while less seasoned followers may be better served diving deeper into the back catalogue instead.

Ghetts secured his place in the conversation around the greatest UK rappers years ago; ‘On Purpose, With Purpose’ sets the bar higher once again.

‘Club Shy’ is staple Shygirl, re-packaged, pre-remixed, pre-prepared for the club: a dose of thumping post-midnight trance, a playful extension of self with all the irreverence, at her creative high.

This solitary endeavour - which she describes as sitting in front of a mirror and staring at herself - results in near-complete reinvention, all while retaining melodic guts and expanding the malleability of her misfit artistry.

Having been better recognised as a key member of Wild Flag and Ex Hex in recent years, Mary Timony’s singular ability as a guitarist and songwriter had been forgotten somewhat; ‘Untame The Tiger’ serves as a stirring reminder of it.

Throughout, Andrew’s eccentric lyricism leans away from the paranoia of ‘MGMT’ and ‘Little Dark Age’ and towards a search for love in the midst of darkness; quietly, he and Ben continue to plough their strange pop furrow with aplomb.

Being aware of the context, it’s not the easiest listen, but it’s extremely rewarding.

For those to whom Courtney’s songwriting is a soothing balm, there is plenty to like here - but there’s a sense of creative inertia that means it’s a difficult record to truly love.

This is a sonically rich, musically accomplished record - and it truly is - it’s Holly’s enviably dextrous voice that can’t help but take centre stage. They can belt with the best of them.

It is a dynamic and sensual album, rich with imagery, peppered with romance, and imbued with joy.

There’s something inherently welcoming in the short, sharp, and lyrically open songs, as Laura looks both inwards and outwards at her identity, her chosen music, and her vices. Each track unfolds with an ease only reserved for somebody with so much skin in the game.

Lime Garden offer a reassuring hand to warm shoulders and a candied melody or ten to sweeten ears. Not only this, but as an album indebted as much to Charli XCX or Bon Iver as it is to The Strokes, as equally comfortable with cello-bowing ballads or auto-tuned pop anthemia as it is with the guitar-chugging banger, it confirms Lime Garden as a band with potential to achieve even higher artistic greatness.

By the closing moments of the eery ‘Monolith’, it all becomes clear: this is love, but through the unmistakable eyes of IDLES.

Driven by Zara’s unwavering vocals and energetic delivery, ‘Venus’ is icy, crystallised and super fun - “fit for a goddess,” she says - and, aside from being a slight hodgepodge of genres, it’s a lush flex of skill.

‘Weird Faith’ sees Diaz defiant, ready to let her guard down again, with the title essentially referring to her faith in love; her work here evokes the gut-wrenching melodies and storytelling prowess of American supergroup boygenius.

Decidedly mature yet still with that same self-aware playfulness, this is undoubtedly his most eclectic offering to date.

Sonically sprawling (‘80s guitar sounds are referenced on the title track; a glitchy beat flickers through ‘Another Day’; ‘Power To Undo’ brims with pop-funk chaos) yet also unafraid to find joy in simple pleasures (the most immediate moment comes courtesy of ‘Prove It To You’, a club-ready stomp), ‘WHAT NOW’ is a gem.