Recorded with longtime producer Neal Avron, Southern Air isn't a major step away from the band's previous work but a return to the original fire of their early years.

Breathtaking and heartbreaking in so many different ways, ‘West End Girl’ may have begun by telling the tale of one of her life’s most bitter chapters, but now it’s become one of her most triumphant.

An elegant, engrossing return, that marries its creators’ love of both industrial and ecclesiastical aesthetics while remaining accessible and emotionally easy to grasp. Welcome back.

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

Pulp aren’t taking this chance to merely dine out on nostalgia; instead, they’re returning as evolutions, not imitations, of their past selves - grateful for what they have, while they have it.

Despite the album’s beginning in confusion, Saturn sounds genuinely uplifting throughout with her impressive vocal range being the focal point.

Multiple minute-long interludes flesh Wildflower out, feeling like breaks to an all-out, never-ending stage show. It needed to take something substantial to feel satisfied after those sixteen long years, and The Avalanches have gone beyond their calling.

It’s chaos, the most extreme kind of hybrid imaginable. With that freedom, they sound more excitable and progressive than ever, like they’re chasing a pot of gold that contains endless truths.

When it works, it really works.

As expected, the album’s only low moment comes with the introduction of vocals on ‘Richie Sacramento’. Thankfully, this doesn’t last long. The group are soon back on top of things with the majestic ‘Drive The Nail’ and we’re instantly transported back to their uniquely-formed wonderland.

It moves away from what many a critic will lazily refer to as Burial-esque, but still retains the throbbing heart that's always sat at the centre of his music.

If straying always leads to things as great as this, Iceage should continue veering from the path.

The atmosphere isn't always strictly severe, knowing right when to let up with gorgeous melodies seeping through the chiselled cracks. These moments save the record from being vociferous without a cause, allowing the more vehement moments to speak louder than they would otherwise.

Spiraling from stripped back laments into squalling chaos with an innate dexterity, Johnny Foreigner subvert their surroundings into a place of their own making.

What’s remarkable about ‘What A Devastating Turn Of Events’, though, is that the gravitas of this weightier material isn’t cheapened by the sudden contrast, just as the LP’s initial buoyancy somehow doesn’t become retrospectively flippant. Instead, the album honours that life’s lightness isn’t contradicted by the dark moments, but rather co-exists alongside them; a reminder that everything – and everyone – contains multitudes.

A technicolour triumph that’s his most ambitious, maximalist, and forward-facing work yet, ‘Radiosoul’ shows Alfie Templeman to be not just ‘good for his age’, but an assured, fully-formed artist capable of holding his own beside some of the industry’s best.

That Lava La Rue has managed to tame such huge ambition into a long-in-the-making debut that’s inventive but accessible and never outstays its welcome is a feat not to be diminished.

Here Dana’s lyricism and delivery land closer to the depth of feeling of Sharon Van Etten or Weyes Blood (‘Wednesday’; ‘In A Dream’), their evolution over the album’s course reflecting its slow but sure tilt towards thematic light.

For Nils Frahm, this record is nothing new: on his terms it is not extraordinary. But for mere mortals, All Melody is a bracing cacophony of the possibilities of minute sonic experimentation.

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

One of the most endlessly intriguing albums of the year so far.

As Ethel stands broken, forlorn and alone, Hayden rises stronger as one of the very best in storytelling and atmosphere.

It’s the underlying sense of unease and something to prove that really adds the edge here.

Nothing here will quite fulfill the satisfaction of her original work, but as a fun, thoughtful way to ground oneself during quarantine, ‘Covers' is an audition that is guaranteed to see her through to the next round.

‘Night Network’, far from being the exercise in kicking and screaming that it might have been, is instead a study in elegance in the face of adversity. The Cribs are back.

It may not be one for the impatient listener--Centralia can drone a little in places, and almost touches on music reminiscent of that you'd relax to while having a deep tissue massage. But take the time to listen properly and you'll realise it's beautifully crafted.

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.

There are playful moments - a self-referential take on Cat Stevens’ ‘Pop Star’, in which the 80-year-old icon declares his showbiz intentions, chief among them - but the album is best when it embraces the singer’s age, experience and stature.