‘Angels & Queens – Part I’ is nothing if not an intense listen.

It’s the kind of stylistic pick’n’mix Mykki has made their name on: ‘Ketamine’ with Slug Christ nods to the latest iteration of pop-punk; ‘Your Love Was A Gift’ shows a fragility to Dianna Gordon’s vocals amid ghostly production; ‘Trust A Little Bit’ shimmers with a tender nature. And best of all, it works as a whole.

‘The Car’ is Alex and crew’s most soundtrack-like work so far, flowing together in one long movement made cohesive by Bridget Samuels’ lush orchestral arrangements which adorn it.

With this near-mystical storytelling ‘Quiet The Room’ leans heavily on folk, yet in style it embodies something entirely different. Seemingly on the edge of collapse, it tells a fraught tale of fragile memories that exist on the very brink of reality.

‘Here Is Everything’ lands in the sweet spot; it’s creatively ambitious, pushing the quartet into new ground, but it does so with a renewed sense of fun.

‘Dirt Femme’ sees her juxtapose elements ingeniously. If she’s singing in a straightforward manner, on a more direct number, then the music is twisting and turning in offbeat ways.

‘CHAOS NOW*’ might not have much of ‘80s Mancunian misery in its toolbox, but there’s an exhilarating meeting of grunge, pop-punk and indie with hip hop rhythms: Beck if he’d used a palette of early ‘00s MTV2.

There is something strangely satisfying about its consistency and confidence. Have no doubts, ‘Being Funny…’ is most certainly still The 1975; they’ve just refined their pop nous that little bit more this time around.

There are plenty of good ideas across ‘Suckerpunch’. It just could’ve done with fewer bad ones.

For a record born of fatigue and exhaustion, she imbues a renewing sense of urgency to each bar she delivers.

‘Into The Blue’ comes across like the pair swapping mixtapes; a little ‘60s psych here, some ‘70s soul there, with a smidge of ‘80s R&B between. ... In lesser hands, this may have presented a mish-mash of confused homage, but here, it’s just a pleasant, nostalgic listen.

The stories being told match in tone, driven forward through a tantalising mix of urgency and despondency – mirroring the detached hustle of England’s capital.

Uneasy and unpredictable, yet invigorating.

Across ‘Cool It Down’, Yeah Yeah Yeahs remain true to their roots without making it sound like a nostalgic grab for previous glory. ... It turns out Yeah Yeah Yeahs 2.0 is exactly what 2022 needs.

These 14 tracks are so sonically rich with a multitude of textures, each listen peeling back just one measly layer; Molly’s vocal hooks and turns of phrase will remain in your brain days after the last listen.

With fewer hands stirring the pot this time around, she’s had ample opportunity to come even more into her own, pulling off the bouncy, subtly ska-influenced WLW bop ‘hover like a GODDESS’ and introspective guitar pop groove of ‘curious/furious’ and ‘ur a stranger’ with stylish ease. Most intriguing, perhaps, are her forays into post-hardcore, unleashing a tremendous scream over the top of crunching guitars in the dying moments of ‘ it’s my fault’, but not everything goes quite so smoothly.

The record makes no attempt to shroud emotional reactions to the modern world, and it results in a thematically poignant, lyrically sharp and sonically surprising statement piece that redeems what was once used as a dismissive label.

‘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.

The Lounge Society clearly have more in their influence pool than just one slipstream, and it’s when they embrace the full flood that they shine.

It’s a testament to his talents that he can produce an album that encapsulates his weird and beautiful world, which is full of more questions than answers.

‘Tough Baby’ gives us a distinctly moving experience of serious artistic intent. It’s like watching a wound open, flowers growing out of it.

The LA quintet’s third album doesn’t quite explode as much as it hopes to, though a few songs threaten to, largely the acid-tongued, grinding ‘Roadkill’ and the vintage-sounding title track.

There’s an abundance of over-excited jitters that keep you bouncing to each wildly mercurial moment. ‘demon time’ is an undeniable rush to your systems, and a deliciously futuristic one at that.

A deeply thoughtful and yet infinitely danceable collection of songs, it balances honest truths with taunting vocals and bursts of synth-prompted energy.

‘(self-titled)’ is Vegemite: the same, but different. When he strips it right back - ‘Prior Warning’, with its bleak reminiscing reflected by a sonic hark back to the London scene in which he made his early name, and the stark ‘Dangerous Game’, where Marcus’ voice allowed to linger for just the right amount of time - there’s a warm quality to his songwriting that seeps through.

Suede maintain their magnitude through emotional craft - single ‘15 Again’ is the perfect microcosm of ‘Autofiction’’s ups and downs, its euphoric chorus built around painstaking regret. In essence, ‘Autofiction’ finds Suede still fiercely in motion.

‘Spark’ presents a jarring change: not one from that familiar warmth to icy cold, but only halfway, a sort of uncomfortable mild chill.

‘Asphalt Meadows’ may not be a lockdown record, but it’s one that finds its voice in emerging into musical freedoms found in separation.

It’s an honest and visceral look into more painful moments that come with processing past pain.

It takes a while for Preoccupations to find their new groove on ‘Arrangements’. But, when they hit that stride in the latter half, it’s a terrific one.

‘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.

Where ‘Spirituals’ - which both marks a return from a four-year break and Santi’s first release as an independent artist - works best, is as reminder and introduction. The cut-and-paste, mixtape ethos that shone through in the first place is still there.

‘I Love You Jennifer B’ feels like everything that’s come before has just been a trial run. It’s bolder, more rewarding, and so much more cohesive.

‘As Above, So Below’ feels more refined. It’s fair to say there’s no one else quite doing it like Sampa The Great right now.

‘Hideous Bastard’ sees Oliver take on both these past and present realities with a candour that surprises even him.

Its wares pick up where its predecessor left off but without adding too much extra to the mix.

The last third of the record is more streamlined, with the sweeping, subtly metallic ‘Kill Or Be Killed’ offering a welcome throwback to the days when Muse were at their best, but it’s not enough to redeem this all-too-OTT offering.

It’s not a bad record, but it’s not quite there.

From start to finish, Julia has created a world entirely of her own - one which revels in representing her with unflinching honesty using a delicately-woven soundscape. Hers is a world where solace and solidarity are steeped into every brick.

It’s all fun without feeling frivolous, packing relatable substance into its genuinely jovial sound.

Spoken word moments peppered throughout hark back to the ‘80s on an album that pushes musical boundaries well past the present day. In sound, it’s as bold as the personality that runs through it.

Given that the various members of Hot Chip have various side-hustles and secondary creative outlets, it’s a little surprising how much of ‘Freakout / Release’ sounds quite this forced.

Their particular brand of punk never pauses for breath: it’s thirteen unabating tracks, fired up on adrenaline and the thrill of just not giving a shit.

An album that covers this much ground could quickly feel disjointed, yet through painting with broad brush strokes, Mall Grab has cohesively summarised what it is that makes him tick.

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.

Leaning more into the pop-rock sound of their previous record, ‘Unwanted’ shines in its ability to produce a pop-punk anthem your ‘00s faves wish they could’ve written. Throughout, Heather holds nothing back.

They’re not re-writing the rule book, but on ‘Chopper’ Kiwi Jr lift off towards becoming cult favourites.

It’s thrilling stuff but most importantly, with him [Sergio Pizzorno] solely steering the ship, it’s the most authentic this band have sounded in a long time - once again, it feels like they’re capable of going anywhere they want.

Danger Mouse and Black Thought’s long-awaited album arrives as a tribute to a whole scene rather than just two artists.

Unlike 2016’s iconic ‘Lemonade’, ‘Renaissance’ firmly embodies this world. No ballads or break up songs necessary, the album sits proudly at 16 tracks of pure energy. A masterclass in reinvention.

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.

Pulling together synth, strings and warped melodies, the love song [‘Winter Is Hopeful’] is tender yet distant, disarming yet comforting, discordant yet oddly harmonious - the way this album sounds.

‘Surrender’ proves Maggie can use motifs from the past to build worlds and stimulate memories while always looking forward.

The sound of an artist coming home to themselves, ‘The Theory Of Whatever’ is proof that you can grow up gracefully with every inch of your vibrancy still intact.

Lizzo has created something often softer and more intimate than anyone might have expected. Of course, as the disco strut of lead single ‘About Damn Time’ will attest, there are still cheeky bangers contained within.

Mixing disco, dance, pop and R&B elements, ‘About Last Night…’ whisks us through the highs and lows of the best night out of your life, and Mabel is the perfect party guide.

With ‘Fear Fear’, WMC already have a signature viewpoint all of their own - the fun is in seeing how they continue to play with it.

‘World Wide Pop’ is a joyously over-the-top explosion of audio technicolor, where the group embrace their oddities and eccentricities.

This is an album that asks for patience, and only on occasion is it duly rewarded.

Although less esoteric than its predecessor ‘Cavalcade’, ‘Hellfire’ is a fiercely experimental record that sees black midi teeter back and forth on a crumbling precipice, halfway between unhinged madness and art rock precision.

‘Beatopia’ shows growth without risking losing the charm that has made Bea a firm favourite.

It’s by far the happiest MUNA have sounded; a celebratory expression of queer love that loses none of the trio’s magic.

The gambles pay off, and all add up to her most accomplished group of songs to date.

There’s a real cleverness about the contrast between these very modern themes and their throwback sound, a sparklier take on garage-flecked indie that proves wildly catchy.

Never has an album title been better chosen - the duo are at the centre of a brightly burning, ever-expanding sonic explosion, all of their own making, and just like a supernova, it is utterly stunning to witness. Bow down to the queens.

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.

‘Life Is Yours’ is the sound of the band less emerging blinking into the post-pandemic light than bounding back into the saddle.

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.

It’s uncompromising yet nonetheless inventive, with eccentric flows and inspired production choices.

‘graves’ may not be a huge musical departure, but it’s a sign Purity Ring still have ideas left in them yet.

While ’40 oz. to Fresno’ is certainly a little less orthodox than we’ve come to expect, it doesn’t matter all that much: their rough-around-the-edges punk still strikes the right chords.

George Ezra knows his strengths, he knows his audience, and he’s sticking to it come hell or high water. The result is still yet another charming record that’s hard not to love.

It may not rock the boat stylistically, with her influences always ever-present, but ‘Time Bend And Break The Bower’ is an experience worth immersing yourself in by unravelling the meaning or just following Sinead’s lead down the rabbit hole.

Both ‘Fountain’ and ‘Sweet Memz’ are solemn, sobering pieces. This delicacy is a little muted at times, lacking the sharp, alluring production of the record’s opening, instead closing out in hushed tones. It feels a little uncertain, as if the group are speculating the next chapter in their artistic output.

‘Versions of Modern Performance’ is a gleaming window into a new generation of great American guitar bands.

Haunting, heartbreaking and life-affirming, Angel Olsen’s songwriting talents soar to great heights in the mostly restrained palette here, offering the much needed space to wrestle with the complexities life has thrown at her.

Despite the album featuring several enjoyable moments, though, the listener is left feeling that it’s somewhat rambling and unfocused, and could possibly have benefited from the band leaving themselves more time for their ideas to gestate.

It’s clear from the album that Tate McRae’s arsenal of jagged pop weapons is extensive, and can be expertly wielded when she wants.

With his debut album, Alfie Templeman has found a means of discovering himself and a means to cope. It makes for something incredibly promising.

Swampy and tumultuous like a month’s worth of rain, the Dundalk five-piece have spared no expense in creating immersive, cavernous spaces of shoegazing, post-punk splendour.

It’s a largely hit-and-miss pop record.

At 71 captivating minutes, ‘Heavy Pendulum’ provides a touchstone, alongside new-wave, disruptive tracks that seek to tell tales of political turmoil, the ‘new reality’ of grief and posthumous brotherhood. A long-overdue homecoming.

The eight-track collection finds its voice through an ever more personal lens, one that dials down the familiar ignitable fare in favour of intricate ambient spread. In doing so, variation on past cues and themes are offered, sonically pared down yet expansive in concept – an effort that adds new facets and angles to Lykke Li’s art.

From this new personal phase, Flume’s latest techno-charged offering upscales the drops, fidgety distortion and replay value that has proved a constant in his playbook.

For anyone who’s long fallen for the Derry native’s charms, third time’s a winner - for anyone who finds comfort in revelling in stripped-back melancholy, it’s a dream.

Change, escape and identity are not easy things to navigate, and ‘Preacher’s Daughter’ is the dark, unsettling, sprawling beauty that comes out of it.

There’s something invigorating about how audibly Porridge Radio stare their demons head on, step up to the plate and turn them into something big and ambitious and beautiful.

His distinctive voice, ranging from guttural lows to a glittering falsetto, is the tool he uses to sculpt out his vast sonic vision.

For the most part ‘Dance Fever’ is an expert revamp from one of alternative music’s torch-bearing misfits, a welcome shot of fairy-tale hedonism ripe for post-pandemic dancefloor indulgence.

In ‘Harry’s House’ lives a songwriter confident enough in both to start playing with convention.

It all feels remarkably familiar, but given the record’s pedigree, that’s far from a bad thing.

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.

[Pa Salieu] The Ghanaian-British rapper is one of a handful of guests here, each of whom allow Ibeyi to reflect the past and present simultaneously.

Ultimately an exercise in Sunflower Bean showing off that they can do just about everything well.

While the classic Warpaint tropes - clever, heady interplay; four voices weaving as one - are present and correct, this time the more icy edges are rounded off in favour of softness and a nurturing sense of femininity.

This is very much the most mature Sharon Van Etten offering to date - and perhaps the most musically accomplished, too.

‘A Bit of Previous’ remains an enjoyably sunny listen, even if one frequently inflected with melancholy.

While ‘Endless Rooms’ chronicles a darker period in RBCF’s time as a band, it’s an album that paves a sonically brighter and broader future ahead.