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.

While Freedom’s Goblin doesn’t exactly blow the doors off of his usual sound, it’s a solid addition to the canon that rattles between all corners of this self-made niche.

A unique record that puts a contemporary spin on an era that modern music forgot.

It serves us like a well-bound photo album which we can flick through and see snapshots of the band at certain moments in their short, yet successful, life so far.

This is a collection of tracks that see the potent, unafraid icon that is Carter return to the forefront of British punk and he’s using it as an opportunity to really say something.

This is an album which very much belongs in 2016, and an expectedly assured debut from a band who are by no means redefining the sound of New York City rock ‘n’ roll, but are laying claim to being worthy flag bearers of it going forward.

Packed full of genius--with a few dips that promised more--for the most part, this does play a little like a Greatest Hits. An impressive achievement from such a new band.

A record that’s an unapologetic, brilliant melting pot like little else.

Beneath the slightly grating kookiness, FEET's songwriting is genuinely exciting.

For the most part, ‘Death of the Party’ shows a band actively pushing themselves to grow. They might not be the same happy chappies as before, but not even The Magic Gang can stay young forever.

‘Flora Fauna’ is the sound of a measured spreading of Billie Marten’s wings - of careful progress. She’s still really young: there’s more to come.

‘Life’s A Beach’’s lasting impact is its confrontation of depression and self-doubt: this is a record that will make you feel deeply as well as provide a soundtrack for your first post-lockdown festival.

In a world where musicians can feel pressured to release albums year after year, Maisie took her time with this one, resulting in an album that could well be timeless.

An impressive first outing, Spencer.’s skills as a producer and songwriter have never been more evident. Period.

As he says on opener ‘Good Morning’, Matt is here to help “you push your demons away”. And 13 beautifully-constructed ballads might just be the ticket.

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

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

‘Alpha Zulu’ is a fun record, on which the creators’ own enjoyment is audibly palpable.

‘Endure’ marks Special Interest’s debut for Rough Trade and manages to plant a foot in both worlds - the resolutely uncompromising punks of old, and a band capable of infiltrating at least the more alternative end of the radio - with gusto.

Ben Gregory has made a record quite mind-boggling in its scope and scale. Written following a stint in a psychiatric hospital, the explosion of ideas present across these eight tracks tally with an overactive brain trying to put itself back together - in the space of the seven-minute ‘deathbed hangover’ alone, moments of beauty and brutality jostle for space.

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).

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

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.

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

[‘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.

The literary heft of the record leaves slim pickings for pure listening. The familiarity of the vocal line on ‘He’ provides a satisfactory hook, ‘She’ is dreamy and melancholy, while ‘In The Green Chapel’ combines Hayden’s still-unmistakeable vocal with a softly-plucked guitar line that bears similarity to New Order’s ‘True Faith’.

Admittedly, there’s not much in the way of dynamic surprises here - save for the acoustic-led closer ‘Pharmacy’, perhaps - but for a debut album, it’s a distilled demonstration of their talents thus far.

It is a fabulously undisciplined affair, one that nods to everybody from Stereolab to King Gizzard. Accordingly, it sometimes lacks the urgency of the Mandrake live show, and the conceptual side of the record seems pretty opaque, but there are enough vibrant musical realms to get lost in here.