For the most part, it’s instead a case of either too much, or not enough. By stripping the layers back and presenting the songs in a wholly straightforward manner - slick, with Julie’s voice centered as if she’s embarking on a perfect three-minute pop song - flaws appear where they shouldn’t exist.

Not just a return to form from a group whose recent catalogue has been somewhat patchy, but a true classic, ‘Saviors’ is Green Day at their musical and thematic best.

With seemingly none of that badass-ery from their classic late-’90s output diluted by the passage of time, ‘Little Rope’ sloshes up nothing less than a condensed, rocket-punch collection of ten three-minute bangers.

This isn’t necessarily one to win The Vaccines a new generation, but for those already won over, it’ll prove worth the listen.

It’s a truly cathartic listening experience, driven by the belief that our darkest moments can only be alleviated if we sing about them beautifully enough.

Perhaps her most personal, but also her most diverse.

It’s musical exorcism at its very best, rallying against socially-imposed doubt and anxiety and - in its unique horror - finding welcome moments of inner peace.

‘Heaven knows’ pushes PinkPantheress into new realms of utter brilliance.

No, ‘Think Later’ doesn’t come close to reinventing the wheel (or pop), but it does drench itself within a pop maximalism full of fuel, energy and modernity.

The songs are rarely improved upon, with the fidelity to ruggedness giving the songs the feel of half-finished demos, but the songwriting itself is, of course, stellar.

Their formula is tastefully broken up by frantic drums on ‘CRACK METAL’, unsettling synths on ‘HATEFUL’ and the twisted pop of ‘ASHAMED’ that soars with the most memorable chorus on the record. Unfortunately, that chorus is an outlier on an album that can wash past with as much staying power as candyfloss in a puddle.

Bella may not have enjoyed bringing ‘Quarter Life Crisis’ to life, but in facing her insecurities head on she chips away at the pristine Baby Queen polish and pairs her distinct brand of pop with real substance.

Sure, if you’re after something revolutionary, this one’s not for you; but ‘ONE MORE TIME…’ instead succeeds in its mission to reinvigorate the trio’s alchemy, and gives the band a much-needed chance to reflect and celebrate for at least one more time.

While there’s a constant sense of fun, there’s also always a consciousness about who, or what the Rolling Stones are.

’History Books’ is an album that personifies The Gaslight Anthem’s magic all over again.

Weak and boring are never words we’d have ever thought apply to Poppy’s music, but alas here we are – hoping for the ‘Zag’ to come.

‘The Silver Cord’ is often magnificent and always supremely fun.

All those who lapped up ‘Tracey Denim’ will be satisfied here. ‘The Twits’ may yet charm a few more besides.

Amid an existing height of musical Afrofuturism, ‘Sweet Justice’ is a crowning achievement - an assertion of self through distinct and precise perspective at the apex of a movement.

Sounding like their most ambitious and handsome release yet.

Most importantly, though, ‘Santhosam’ lives up to its name, as a record that reflects happiness.

‘Turn The World On’ is classic, sparkling Bombay, whereas ‘Rural Radio Predicts The Future’’s two-minute instrumental concludes with almost hyperpop bleeps; the Albarn-featuring ‘Heaven’ is loose and trip-hoppy, while highlight ‘Meditate’ (with Nilüfer Yanya) climbs the guitar scales into a twisted climax. A triumph.

Sampha’s voice might be the most instantly recognizable piece of magic in his arsenal, but it’s his patience and craft that makes ‘LAHAI’ such a stunning experience.

More so than some of his other recent material, the record has a sense of drama and occasion to it, as well as being the most musically seamless album he’s made in nearly twenty years, since 2004’s ‘A Grand Don’t Come for Free’.

These bold theatrics more than work, and maybe more so than ever, they present Creeper with a clear track to bringing camp, dramatic rock back to the very top of the pile.

It’s as fun and messy as it is timelessly trendy; as silly as it is erotic.

At once escapist and heavily personal, it’s a dark, pop-perfect, melancholic fantasy.

‘CrazyMad, For Me’ is a triumphant whirlwind of pain and self-preservation, which reveals more of itself with every listen.

‘Perfect Picture’ is the pinnacle of today’s hyperpop yet steers away from its once abrasive nature towards a well-rounded, rebooted version: one where all that Hannah is and can be is indeed made picture perfect.

‘Defeat’ alone clocks up a gargantuan 22 minutes runtime. Similarly, ‘Magicians From Baltimore’ could have been a wonderfully tight piece but overstays its welcome at almost 10 minutes. Still, the blissed-out, spage age ‘Genie’s Open’ and the funky prog of ‘Gem & I’ provide at least a partial argument in favour.

If ‘Carrie & Lowell’ is set to remain as Sufjan Stevens’ best, ‘Javelin’ takes a confident stride back into personal territory and certainly gives 2015 a run for its money.

The most obvious uniting factor between this record and their previous ones, in fact, is their ability to write a whole host of bulletproof choruses, and it’s tricky to imagine coming unstuck from this album any time soon.

Capturing the highs and lows of womanhood via catchy pop, ‘Sorry I’m Late’ may have been a long time coming (see what she did there), but it’s worth the wait.

This is thoughtful, nuanced R&B that demonstrates Jorja’s kaleidoscopic feel for her genre, incorporating everything from neo-soul on the brooding title track, to flirting with dancehall on ‘Feelings’.

His voice is stunning, a far-reaching, emotive vibrato evoking Roy Orbison that keeps the often surface-level nature of his lyrics from reaching full saccharine.

yeule’s willingness to play with sonic landscape and sci-fi dystopia means their version of emo is more infectiously haunting than the blueprint.

There’s enough originality pumped throughout each track that ‘Tension’ will undoubtedly stand as one of the most favoured contemporary Kylie eras. There’s no pretension to its greatness, just our Kylie, once again, humbly proving how easily she can forge gold and transform into pop culture phenomenon.

‘Sorry I Haven’t Called’ is yet another accomplished chapter.

Taken individually these songs are all gorgeous, but as a whole they create an effect of being hemmed in by absence, that inhospitable land overwhelming in its minimalism. No other record today sounds so beautiful and full while being quite so sparse.

Across the record, the winking lyrical smarts are in full flow.

The album could stand to bear more of the inventiveness that was so rife on her debut, but Laufey’s crystalline voice and effortless charisma make this album into a gorgeous display of a unique talent.

Despite – and seemingly deliberately - not carrying the widespread immediacy of more recent releases, it presents James as he currently stands; at once nostalgic and forward-thinking, and firmly back behind the decks.

The collaborative spirit of producer Fred and long-time friend Haai flows throughout ‘Mid Air’’s eleven-strong homage to an unforgettable era, but it’s Romy’s autobiographical candour that adds a depth beyond the record’s inarguable ecstasy.

‘End of the Day’ feels like a long, slow goodbye to her old life; elegant and, given the context, elegaic.

Yes, ‘Club Romantech’ is fun, albeit superficially - supercharged by pulsating house that would perhaps be irresistible only under very specific, very inebriated conditions in 2012.

An album that works to intertwine large scale issues with some deeply personal admissions from frontwoman Sadie Dupuis - all via her intoxicating and bewildering brand of lyricism - the record, instead, grapples with the anger at its core and transforms. it into something more worthwhile.

If there’s evidence of musical progression, meanwhile, it comes via an apparently new-found fixation Neil has with modular synths; he deploys them tastefully here, perhaps to most striking effect on ‘Chained to a Cloud’. In general, though, ‘everything is alive’ very much gives off the sense that the slower gestations lead to the richest rewards.

Punctuated by Simon’s misanthropic frustrations at a post-pandemic world, it’s a bold and brilliant but bileful record that may alienate even the most diehard of those ‘early-albums-are-the-best’ fans.

It may not be entirely reinventing the rock wheel, but it’s certainly a more successful attempt at broadening their horizons.

‘Bunny’, for the most part, justifies why Healey’s little black book is quite so heaving.

Undeniably ‘WEEDKILLER’ is a funneling of rage - a quest to rediscover autonomy and cement identity - but despite the darkness is ridiculously fun, too. It’s a triumphant debut - one that changes the game like a live wire in water.

Be Your Own Pet have retained the vitality of their youth while leaving behind the baggage.

This is a fully realised version of who and what they have always been.

There’s a little less edge than on debut ​‘Smiling With No Teeth’, but a softer lens offers more variety, and Genesis Owusu sails the spectrum of human experience with ease to make something just as weighty as the literature that inspired it.

On the surface it may appear comparably safe in tone; a softer and arguably less frustrated sound runs throughout. Yet it never shies away from the unmistakable fact that Shamir has something to say, and that it’s always worth listening to.

Jungle’s latest is more breezy bops than all-out sum­mer smashes, but nev­er­the­less extremely rich and warm in sound.

‘The Death of Randy Fitz­sim­mons’ feels like a return to their roots; there’s a pleas­ing lack of pol­ish to the pro­duc­tion on what is a suc­ces­sion of punk rock blasts, from quick-fire bursts like ​‘Trap­door Solu­tion’ and closer ​‘Step Out of the Way’ to sus­tained sal­vos, with the bass-driv­en ​‘Count­down To Shut­down’ a case in point. There’s play­ful evid­ence of new ideas being worked in, too.

Although the British summer is a mixed bag of rain and more rain, ‘Alchemy’ could convince anyone there’s sun outside.

The only dud is GAYLE’s ‘butterflies’, which does nothing more than showcase the record’s corporate origins. Sampling a Y2K hit would have surely looked good on paper at some point; in reality it’s a confused mish-mash of sounds, the sample appearing as an add-on, the newcomer without the star power of her peers here to hint lyrically at anything of note. That aside, life in plastic does indeed sound fantastic.

Not always an easy listen, but a consistently thrilling ride.

This isn’t necessarily an album that contains multitudes, but therein lies its pure escapist charm.

There’s a solid background of obviously skilled musicianship on fifth LP ‘One Man Band’, but even on the snarl of ‘Never Taking Me Alive’, it all feels very safe.

A record which clearly finds contentment in its sonic solitude.

A rich, multifaceted insight into contradictory nature of growing up and older, this is Bethany’s finest move yet.

‘Euphoric’ is grand, inspiring and convincing - and feels like summer love bottled up.

It’s older, wiser and more reflective. A wonderful surprise album whose existence in 2023 actually makes perfect sense.

All dials are turned up to eleven for PVRIS’ fourth album. .... Sometimes it means they possess a heaviness not found since the outfit’s rockier days of old, such as in the industrial clatter of ‘HYPE ZOMBIES’, but it may be an acquired taste, and occasional moments feel overcooked, such as on the juddering early single ‘ANIMAL’. Elsewhere, however, are a plethora of cast-iron, genreless bangers, some of which are the catchiest tracks Lynn Gunn has put her name to.

While the emotions are big, the choruses are even bigger: ‘the good the bad the olga’ begs for a cathartic moshpit, while ‘pardee urgent care’ is a definitive phone-torches-in-the-air moment.

In a landscape that often places image over genuine attitude, here is a consistently solid record with its fair share of gems.

Striking a perfect balance between familiarity and unpredictability, immediate choruses coexisting with a relaxed, breezy sound, ‘IRL’ is a delight.

It’s Claud’s willingness to inject humour and playfulness into an ultimately ambitious record that makes ‘Supermodels’ work.

‘I Inside the Old Year Dying’ will likely take some time to fully unravel, but on the surface, it looks like a daring return.

For a record titled ‘Messy’ it could ironically do with being a little less neat and tidy.

This album brings innovation just when The Japanese House began to need it, and hopefully points to more creative exploration in the future.

It’s nothing short of pure, menacing excitement.

Expect to cry - then get fired up.

A glorious running of pure pop’s emotional gamut, ‘The Good Witch’ is an accomplished, bewitching listen.

Where the distinctly Strokes-y melancholy of ‘Dead Air’, or the darker stalk of the Matt Helders-featuring ‘Thoughtful Distress’ succeed, others (‘Home Again’, ‘Old Man’) are throwaway jangles that feel like AHJ-by-numbers.

The album suffers from a few rough patches, but Geese have freed themselves from all expectations, which is a rare feat for a second album, and worthy of praise.

A fresher and more enthralling take on the genre, ‘Life Under The Gun’ manages to evoke a sense of considered familiarity - nodding to punk classics such as Fugazi, Operation Ivy, and even, at times, Green Day and blink-182 - while still feeling fundamentally rooted in the present.

Its most immediate moment may come via the El-P featuring ‘Don’t Let The Devil’, with its musical bombast and Mike as most have heard him until now, but this is a sonically rich record that is likely to reveal yet more on each listen.

‘Social Lubrication’ sees the trio loosening up and letting go, resulting in a record that’s both a progression, and that shows off wonderfully just what made them so exciting to begin with.

Like one imagines a night out curated by the Scissor Sister himself, cues shift from pure pop disco to ‘80s maximalism (the almost-instrumental ‘8 Ball’ makes like an extended 12” remix).

‘Expired Candy’ is a whole lot more fun than its sour, stale name might suggest.

‘I Thought I Was Better Than You’ proves a valuable insight into who Baxter Dury is.

It’s all gorgeously rich in both sound and delivery.

A near-perfect album if there ever was one.

An album that will follow you for hours, if not days.

Ten years in, it’s unmistakably King Krule, yet somehow even broader, denser, and crucially more enticing than what has come before.

Everything here has been given room to expand, songs drifting from dreamy ascension to full-blown rock revelation and back again. An album of immense power and conviction.

A far way away from debut ‘Chaleur humaine’, yet just as unafraid, ’PARANOÏA, ANGELS, TRUE LOVE’ is like no other exploration of grief - a new magnum opus.

The band remain successful at finding lush nuances in their well-established formula and ‘Formal Growth in the Desert’ packs more hooks than any of their albums since 2015’s ‘The Agent Intellect’.

Each track conjures up dusty Nashville bars, from the spoken word sandwiched between a lament to love on album closer ‘Chain Of Tears’ to a knowing play on country cliches on Jenny’s exploration of happiness in her forties, ‘Puppy and a Truck’.

As a whole, this ambitious project can be an oblique listen but Acaster’s enthusiastic delight in experimental, underground music is on full display.

Like a hangover, ‘Roach’ lulls around in this contemplation in the dusky corners of a rough Sunday morning, yet it remains laced with a little intoxication: experimental production hides behind its corners, making ‘Roach’ a little more interesting. And elsewhere there exists moments where sunlight cracks through the drawn curtains.

Across its 11 tracks, ‘Raving Ghost’ finds impressive variety and fun: less a haunted relic of the past, and more a Halloweeny romp through it.

‘The Love Invention’ runs the gamut of immediate, dancefloor-ready electro-pop with style.

‘i’ve seen a way’ sees the band marching down their own path, and it’s one worth following.