He combines whispering brush patterns and flecks of industrial glitch in the cerebral ‘Foreplay’ yet writes the perfect neo-soul pop song in ‘The Loop’, exemplifying his cross-disciplinary skill, and ability to marry fluid performance with tonal nuance.

“Like two ribbons, still woven although we are fraying,” they admit. By accepting this, Let’s Eat Grandma have found the sonic balance between friendship, unity, and individual identity.

‘Heart Tax’ is much more expansive, and has her spreading her wings in a number of different stylistic directions whilst maintaining her trademark hypnotic rhythms as a through-line with which to tie everything together.

This follow-up is more inquisitive and self-exploratory, and just a touch darker - while still building on her signature nostalgic sound.

‘SongBook’ is a debut that suggests The Lazy Eyes have the guile to forge their own roads in a genre not currently experiencing a dearth of talent.

Bobby is a jack of all trades when it comes to surmising his subject matter while balancing the line of fact, fun, and fierce emotion. It makes for one of the year’s most essential records yet.

There’s just enough on ‘Everything…’ to ingratiate fans both new and old.

For those who missed the rabble-rousing of ‘Dogrel’ but liked the darkness of ‘A Hero’s Death’, this record splits the perfect difference, sealing it along the middle with the superglue of a band who now know exactly where they’re going. Truth be told, they’ve never been more at home.

While these tracks are testament to how well the LA trio can build an astronomical sense of atmosphere, they can create icy harshness with equal brilliance.

For an album winding in length, it doesn’t outstay its welcome; if the jump to a major means more lovingly fashioned breeziness like this, then so much the better.

‘Second Nature’ hits the mark when it comes to dancing, although taking the time to embrace those quieter moments can often be some of the best, too.

These songs will inevitably end up stuck in their heads. In short, it’s bloody lovely.

Omar Apollo inspires, and his competence as a vocalist is unmistakable on ‘Ivory’. Conflating his electro-pop tendencies with the occasional stride of a campfire guitar, he turns everything he touches to glistening radio gold.

It’s vulnerable, it’s heartfelt, and above all it feels real.

It finds him at his most confident, if not most innovative, and maybe his most comfortable.

‘Bronco’ flits between theatricality and poignancy, almost every song sounding like it could score a Western’s pivotal moment with ease. Helmed by the singer’s powerhouse vocals, it’s impossible not to be drawn in throughout the album’s 15 country-rock-song run.

‘Growing Up’ they easily cement themselves as far more than a viral moment, pairing political and social charge with a suitably playful charm. Opener ‘Oh!’ delivers a powerhouse homage to the band’s foremothers, highlighting ‘Growing Up’’s clever balance between frivolity, passion and skill.

Definitely an acquired taste for those who Grizzly Bear’s less immediate side already ticks multiple boxes, but for those it’s surely a win.

Rife with feelings of ephemeral isolation and deep personal anxieties, they have realised a new wave of modern storytelling, forging ‘The Line Is A Curve’ as an answer to an open call for honesty.

On ‘Chloë and the Next 20th Century’, Father John Misty is transporting himself to a different world; it sounds pretty damn sweet over there.

‘Fear of The Dawn’ is very much like the kind of party where you’re hoping daylight stays away for some time yet.

It’s the slightly wonky worldview of the band themselves that really elevates ‘Wet Leg’ into the realms of the truly special.

The Los Angeles singer-songwriter spinning tales of dark, often questionable situations in a barely-there whisper atop folkish instrumentation that owes similar debts to the city’s famed ‘70s scene and Elliott Smith. With yes, witty lyrical asides that jar smartly with his seemingly timeless sound.

An enticing way to stay true to their roots, while approaching things in a fresh manner, their fourth record might still play to their self-deprecating strengths, but it also proves that they’re secretly ambitious too.

At the heart of ‘At the Hotspot’, though, is a reminder that for all of their eccentricities, Warmduscher remain a tight garage-rock outfit - just one that isn’t afraid to wander down some stylistic rabbit holes.

Their knack for incredible hooks is still there (see ‘Holiday’, the very definition of an earworm), but the effortless fun seems to have fallen by the wayside.

Awash with electric guitars equally as influenced by tradition as cathartic night drives, ‘Leave The Light On’ delves into the power of loneliness. Challenging the definition through both lyrics and sound, Pillow Queens deliberately play with light and heavy.

It captures a band confident in their own identity, holding it as a badge of honour instead of something to be hidden.

‘Unlimited Love’ certainly won’t win over the naysayers. As the laid-back funk and wordplay of ‘Poster Child’ attests, all their usual tropes are present and correct, meaning whatever your view on the Chili Peppers, this record will only confirm it.

‘Tell Me That It’s Over’ is a superlative ode to vulnerability, permitting these indie wallflowers to flourish in technicolour.

Produced by acclaimed synthpoppers Hot Chip, the record creeps and sizzles with their circuit-board infusions to layer an added eeriness upon Ibibio’s Afrofuturist vision.

After years of reflection, this is a steady steep back towards the future.

For while standout ‘These Depopulate Hours’ fizzes with what has made the Glasgow group so inviting in the past - a bubbling menace underpinning everything thanks to a screaming synth - and ‘What Makes You A Man’ employs curious sounds to back its ‘80s influences, it’s not matched by what’s found elsewhere.

Distinct, crooning and softly beautiful, ‘Running With The Hurricane’ captures a snapshot of intimacy, thriving friendships and a profound understanding of the human condition.

Where ‘Designer’ had shade, ‘Warm Chris’ offers light. It still feels bizarre, like stepping inside a doll’s house or a hall of mirrors, but it’s less garish, and ushers back in some of the vulnerability of ‘Party’.

Proffering intimate lyrics on private grief and personal growth (‘Erase’ finds inspiration in the lifecycle of a moth) with the most gorgeously purified vocal shimmer; it’s the cherry that tops this most satisfying of releases, destined to be set on repeat.

There’s still a little greenness here and there – the Royal Blood-esque ‘Summer Of The Shark’ lacks a little individuality, for example – but in the position that DITZ have put themselves in, there are a lot of places for them to push the boat.

The decision for Brown and collaborator Jonah Swiller to finally make a record together in the same room, after two remotely composed past releases, has largely paid dividends.

She once again explores new ventures, crafting a pop album that celebrates the old classics as well as the new, and cements her status as a true pop trailblazer.

A full project that transcends his current reach.

A mixed bag.

HO99O9 get it right far more frequently than not. This record remains incomparable to anything else being made right now.

Though not a flawless effort, musically speaking, this band’s baby teeth are not far off falling out.

It’s more confident, a little sexier. It also finds the outfit playing mostly the same old tricks as last time, for mixed results.

While missing the flecks of pop brilliance and cloying hooks that made 2017 Rex so endearing, the record’s release in the genesis of a twee renaissance is near-perfect timing.

Its steady pace and relatively tame nature (by his standards) means it might not be his most immediately striking release, but it’s still testament to his talent as an astute alt-pop songwriter.

‘Classic Objects’ walks the line between art and humanity, between nature and fabrication, between the real and the conceptual. It’s the audible equivalent of a painting affixed with human hair.

To call ‘Topical Dancer’ pure fun feels to diminish the real sentiment behind the lyrics; to pigeonhole it as wholly political does down the infectiousness that runs through its core.

Toeing the fading line between R&B and inner-city soul, ‘AFTER DINNER, WE TALK ABOUT DREAMS’ is flecked with hints of pop greatness.

Between his emotive vocal delivery and brutally honest lyricism, Bakar has produced an impressive and accomplished debut, well worth the wait.

It all works together, amping up the winking, cheeky side of country while also showing CMAT to be an artist enthralled by the genre but not beholden to it.

Beyond what has come before, ‘PAINLESS’ feels like a true representation of its creator; simultaneously delicate, fierce, vulnerable and fiery.

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

Liverpool duo King Hannah fling themselves into sweltering dust-bowl deserts on startling debut ‘I’m Not Sorry, I Was Just Being Me’ - a narcotic, seductive adventure of squelchy Mazzy Star psych-blues, Portishead-ing trip hop and rainy-day folkishness.

A masterclass in reinventing ‘70s rock for a ‘20s audience, Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard are a captivating oddity.

His identity is in constant flux, making for a revealing and honest listen from one of the most-hyped artists of 2022 so far.

It’s either aural comfort food, or all just a bit, well, obvious. It’s written to a formula for sure. But it’s one that’s served them well, nevertheless.

It’s easy to see why Sam Fender took the outfit out on his recent UK arena jaunt, possessed as they are with heartfelt songs based in place and time, with a few fist-to-the-chest moments.

‘As I Try Not to Fall Apart’ is a subtle evolution for White Lies - progress, after a while spent spinning their wheels.

His perfectly serviceable croon is not quite strong enough to carry it across 16 long tracks. If only he’d given ‘Lightning People’ to Liam Gallagher, it might well have been the soundtrack of the summer. Moments of greatness are plentiful, but ‘Fever Dreams…’ shines brightest when Marr lets his guitar do the talking.

‘The Kick’ doesn’t try to run or distract from feelings of loss and loneliness, instead it faces them head-on while celebrating the joy of being with others through it all.

He hasn’t lost his knack for a great pop hook, as demonstrated by the bubbling synths and snappy 808s on ‘It’s Good To Be Back’. It certainly is.

The impatient will find ‘Once Twice Melody’ a tad wishy-washy, but for those who persevere there’s still a lot going on beneath the waves.

‘PREY//IV’ does not shy away from Alice’s story; instead, its imagery is violent and visceral, with portraits of isolation (‘PINNED BENEATH LIMBS’) and self harm (‘BABY TEETH’) riddled throughout an album defined by a sort of constant itchiness, a wish to rid itself of trauma by occupying it so fully.

‘Dragon New…’ is largely an epic of intimate, stripped-back proportions. Put simply, it’s a masterpiece.

‘The Dream’’s strength is in packing not just alt-J’s usual futuristic twist, but a heavy side serving of nostalgia too. It’s a perfect, subtle, and unpretentious combo.

With resounding beauty, ‘Heterosexuality’ deconstructs social norms through a powerful freedom of self-expression, yet also acknowledges this pain and struggle.

Another truly original triumph.

It makes for a quiet reinvention in the face of adversity, with Le Bon as stylistically light on her feet as ever.

For some, this might be too tame. An album full of ‘Bluish’ rather than ‘Fireworks’. But for others, that means it’s the most accessible.

That ‘Laurel Hell’ exists only because it almost didn’t gives it its power. It provides the space for her mastery of songwriting, and Patrick Hyland’s understated yet orchestral production places Mitski in a realm all her own.

It won’t be quite as divisive as its predecessor - not least because this iteration of Black Country, New Road has ceased to exist before it’s even been heard - but ‘Ants From Up There’ might yet win over those stifled by hype first time around.

What’s crucial is that ‘Let the Festivities Begin!’ never feels like a case of throwing all of these different textures at the wall to see what sticks; instead, the sounds of everywhere from Turkey to Peru to Argentina are wound carefully together on the maddeningly catchy likes of ‘FFS’ and ‘Change of Heart’, before being relayed with exhilarating gusto. There will be few debuts this year that feel like such glorious exercises in musical technicolour.

There’s nothing about the album that’s easy or comfortable to listen to, but it’s so meticulously constructed and so raw across each fragment of existence yeule lays out that its most perplexing moments become its most moving.

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

Korn are anew, and ‘Requiem’ sees them fearless, no longer managing a balancing act with imprudent collaborators and instead embracing what made them famous to begin with. Impressively, their 14th studio album is teeming with riveting hooks.

Throughout, keys shimmer, the production is bright and sky-facing, with an emphasis on synthetic beats. It makes for an album that’s unsubtle and all the better for it.

On ‘Motordrome’ she returns fresh and reinvigorated. No longer simply living to survive, MØ is having fun being herself.

It’s a record you have to give the space it deserves, rather than dip in and out of. That said, there are still some tracks that are especially sumptuous (‘Healing Hurts’, ‘Out Of This World’), that call attention to the fact that this is her musical cosmos, aware of its own self-indulgences, and no worse for it.

This is a record scored through, unmistakably, with a desire to have some fun.

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

All in all, the blanketing lime-lit production, the in-your-face ’60s nostalgia, the five-sugars-in-the-tea gooiness of it all may be too cloying for some, but Miles Kane has been so upfront about these musical influences, and for so long, that one can only admire him for so faithfully embodying them.

A puzzling, and largely forgettable collection.

Tightly paced electronic seams blur with floating chamber pop and global influences, warding off any sense of inertia on an album that has one foot in the worldly and another in the firmament.

‘The Overload’ lives up to its hype with flying colours. Brilliantly constructed to unfurl like some sordid soap opera of Brexit Britain, it brims with vignettes populated by instantly-recognisable caricatures of the now.

This is an irresistibly likeable album, very much in the mould of its creator’s affable, mellow personality.

With ‘Fragments’, Bonobo is as listenable as ever. But this locked groove is one he seems too comfortable in. Once you hear where he can go, there’s a frustrating desire to see him latch on to that fragment of himself rather than the familiar.

While ‘Reflection Of Youth’ delved into intimate soul searching and destructive introspection, ‘Speak’ casts a macroscopic lens on the human experience, delicately documenting Anna’s rising confidence and newfound acceptance in her sense of self.

Committed to tape with the help of Rich Turvey, on ‘Now Or Whenever’ Spector strike between the two eras of their sound, tempering all out alternative bravado with yearningly bittersweet baritone-crooning ballads.

The record spans from spoken word to ‘70s funk and ‘80s glam rock, dabbling in balladry and power pop. It may not be the most polished or serious piece of art to emerge from the pandemic, but it’s impossible to deny the sheer amount of personality and unashamed frivolity bubbling out of ‘Transparency’.

With every listen there’s something else to hear, something new to discover, and something different to feel.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’.

It paints a deeply personal portrait of romance and intimacy, underpinned by an ever-present sense of fun, not least on lead single ‘Daddy’ or the piano-led ‘Please Be Friends’.

‘Marriage’ is the sound of Deap Vally tapping back into what makes them tick, and lays the groundwork for their most exciting era yet.

It should come as little surprise that Lydia has spent time on the standup circuit, and it’s this ability to send up any notions of seriousness that’s Gustaf’s greatest trick. Add some suitable spiky, metronomic riffs and ‘Audio Drag…’ is anything but.