One of his strongest bodies of work to date. It’s a richly textured piece of work which sees him expertly display his ability to make listeners find intimacy in vast soundscapes.

The diary-entry nature of Bea’s songwriting - over twelve tracks she dips into hair dye as empowerment (‘Dye It Red’), self-harm via blistering highlight ‘Charlie Brown’, and a not-particularly-well-hidden reference to her boyfriend in ‘Horen Sarrison’ - makes the fuzzy, bubblegum grunge of ‘Fake It Flowers’ a perfect brooding soundtrack.

Absolutely bonkers and utterly brilliant, if black midi’s indefinite hiatus was the high price for ‘The New Sound’, then it was a price worth paying.

The hard-fought glimmers of hope in the pain (“I guess I’ll stay,” he concludes, breaking into tears) prove the very point of the record, in its openness as brutally difficult as it is cathartic.

They have made bold strides on ‘VIVA HINDS’, enlisting A-list guest stars and following the lead of their last record by venturing into fresh territory: ‘Mala Vista’ pairs Spanish-language vocals with a groove-driven guitar, while there’s a touch of dream-pop to spacey closer ‘Bon Voyage’.

While the record does, on occasion, feel weighed down by its own existentialism - the more explicit musings on existence that open (‘I Am’) and close (‘Human’) the record notably - the rich sonic palette and Jehnny’s steely delivery ultimately win out.

‘Weird Faith’ sees Diaz defiant, ready to let her guard down again, with the title essentially referring to her faith in love; her work here evokes the gut-wrenching melodies and storytelling prowess of American supergroup boygenius.

‘Screen Violence’ marries visceral anger and empowerment. The result is their most euphoric rallying cry to date.

Every time he approaches a sound that’s already been touched upon by countless other artists, he looks to cast conventional ideas in a 22nd Century chasm. He looks so far ahead, the rest can’t keep up.

A great advert for Australia’s most incendiary live band.

Don’t Let The Kids Win shines brightest for its clear, and charismatic narrative voice.

This is a record dedicated to every band who’ve had to scrape together every last penny just to stay alive, and the result is an album that yearns to be heard.

Full of surprising innovations, it errs constantly between confusion and brilliance.

Perhaps a less confident artist would be tempted to finish on a grand crescendo, but Angel Olsen has made a masterful record that both requires and earns a little patience.

This is a fully realised version of who and what they have always been.

A debut with such a title as this does imply an artist still trying things on for size, and there are certainly a handful of emotionally astute, smart indie pop gems to be found among it.

It’s a distinctly eclectic affair – the product of a Devonshire writing retreat on which Liu evidently experimented with new equipment and ideas – but there’s nevertheless a cohesion that prevents her often touching lyrical subtlety from becoming overwhelmed by uncanny instrumentation. And it’s the gentle push and pull between these two facets that colour the album as somehow both intimate and personal, yet fundamentally universal.

‘Concrete’ goes some distance in evoking The Weeknd’s late-night drive pop, but its obvious lyrics aren’t believable. ‘Split Lip’ nods to Harry Styles in its melancholy, but fails to pack a punch in its production.

Gloomy and often claustrophobic – much like the city that birthed it – ‘Evenfall’ is an intricate snapshot.

At times, the overly-clean production does the songs themselves a disservice, but otherwise everything about ‘Panic Shack’ feels in its right place. Book-ended by two tracks about friendship, this is a debut that presents its protagonists as a gang everyone’s going to want to join.

On ‘Soak’, Black Honey have finessed their trademark cinematic sound, alongside a renewed sense of clarity.

An album that immerses you into its world, a headphones record that is at once both their most accessible and their most challenging, revealing new layers after every listen. Unpredictable, in the very best way.

The music is genuinely rich, and creates a strong nostalgia for a musical era gone by.

Individually the likes of ‘Time Will Be The Only Saviour’, with its creeping strings and weighty sorrow, or the Rizzo-quoting ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’, are tender, sad things, but as a whole piece, Yawn can wind up a claustrophobic listen.

The 19-track remix record has elements of bubblegum-pop, screamo, rock, pop, hip hop and pretty much every genre you can think of, creating an album that is a masterpiece in its madness.

'Cavalcade' is the sound of a band looking to broaden their horizons, but building from a sound already so idiosyncratic and unpredictable, they end up in some head-scratching corners. It's still thrillingly entertaining nonetheless.

Avery has, somehow, made his most accessible and most idiosyncratic record to date, all at once.

Perfume Genius is worthy of the hype, and the hyperbole: this is a fantastic record.