‘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.