‘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.

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’.

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.

Though lyrics are undoubtedly Lambrini Girls’ prime weapon of choice, with Phoebe also spitting home truths about police corruption (‘Bad Apple’), workplace misogyny (‘Company Culture’), industry inequality (‘Filthy Rich Nepo Baby’) and more, the record’s instrumentals nevertheless hold the weight of her words with ease; cleaner, more ambitious, and more diverse than the arrangements on 2023 EP ‘You’re Welcome’, they cement the duo as natural successors to modern punk rock greats like Green Day, SOFT PLAY and Amyl and The Sniffers.

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.

A punch drunk brawler with a heart, it's the pay off to a perfect evolution.

Coxon's most accomplished solo album to date.

‘Sorry For The Late Reply’ is an album that’s taken the playful spark of their debut and refined it into a bolder beast.

Alex Kapranos is on typically droll, playful lyrical form, too, grounding the record in Franz tradition, but the sound of ‘The Human Fear’ suggests a band still brimming with ambition.

His most cohesive work to date, finding parity in both its nostalgia and its modernity, and yes, through its forward-thinking and innovative collaborators. It’s a dance-pop album in parts, and a creative powerhouse in others.

‘Saint Cloud’ is the rousing of a regenerated spirit that chronicles not just the journey but the revelations of love, life and death that comes with it. A very special album indeed.

It’s Ghetts’ ability to paint rich scenes and his breadth of unabashed honesty that animates his comeback into a fully-fledged triumph. Although meticulously crafted under Ghetts’ famed perfectionist nature, it’s pure; neither shunning the light or the dark across the 16 tracks. He lets it all show.

Powerful, but in an entirely different way to its predecessor, it’s a record which further proves that the strength of Hayley Williams - as a songwriter, a vocalist, a woman - is still awe-inspiring.

With its Ramones-via-The Golden State garage punk, it's brilliantly noisy in all the best places ('White On White', 'Wait For The Man') and yet not afraid to tone down on occasion ('Gimme Something').

A definitive debut.

Yes, Squid have travelled the world, but they have also returned home with a sense of self that’s stronger than ever, as sharp as a razor dripping with freshly drawn blood.

A record that couldn’t be more consistently him. It paints this, his seventh studio album, as a compendium of his best parts, and perhaps his first to truly do so.

It’s an album that feels lived in, drawing listeners into its world while leaving room for their own experiences to settle between the lines. In the tension between euphoria and comedown, connection and isolation, Arlo Parks delivers her most vividly realised and affecting body of work to date.

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

If her 2008 debut ‘Lungs’ was the deep breath of plunging into the depths, ‘Everybody Scream’ is the resounding, cathartic exhalation of finally reaching the surface once more.

Many albums will undoubtedly be written about the fractured world in which we live right now, but few are likely to be quite as slick and potent as this one.

Warm and opening yet still dazzlingly inventive.

‘Generations’’ best trick is in its variety: if Will is undoubtedly a curious, enthusiastic sort, then that curiosity stretches across propulsive, vitriolic riffs (‘Bethlehem’), idiosyncratic, stripped-back synths (‘Hide It Away’), Randy Newman-esque piano send-offs (‘Fine’) and more. What unites the record, however, is an urgent, anxious sense of unrest.

‘Food For Worms’ bulges with high-octane surprise. This is the sound of a band performing at the peak of their powers.

It’s clear that these songs have a real and sincere heart, designed to both stir and soothe the soul in one fell swoop.

This is an album to intently listen to every single line and every single syllable. There is a strange kind of hope and joy to the album's warmest moments that belie the, at times, dark themes.

Until The Quiet Comes is an album that is celebratory and desolate, dense and sparse, dark and colourful--a trippy, fantastical ride that only he could create a path for.

An utterly evocative, disarming full-length that’ll haunt listeners long after its reached its conclusion.