There’s still plenty of room for Fear of Men to grow, but without outside influence, they’re already masters of a unique craft.

Exploring all that we give up about ourselves to make others feel comfortable, Shamir’s new take on pop songwriting is one that finally suits. Leaving enough scuffs around the edges to mark it out as his own, this is more than just album seven - it’s the start of a whole new era.

He combines whispering brush patterns and flecks of industrial glitch in the cerebral ‘Foreplay’ yet writes the perfect neo-soul pop song in ‘The Loop’, exemplifying his cross-disciplinary skill, and ability to marry fluid performance with tonal nuance.

A rollercoaster ride of diverse influences, the album takes us everywhere from nods to the freewheeling indie rock of ‘90s Jesus and Mary Chain (‘Dear Saint Cecilia’) to glossy, sixties-inflected love letters (‘Drink Rain’), via handsome, string-backed introspection (‘Love Kills Slowly’) and, on the standout ‘High & Hurt’, there’s a thrilling rework at the midpoint of the classic hymn ‘Will the Circle Be Unbroken?’ that imbues it with moody menace.

'Time Team' is a hugely rewarding album that delivers rich emotional laden electronic music with a human heart and an impressive debut.

Tempest has delivered a compelling, thought-provoking insight into our troubled times.

A bewitching, and surprisingly diverse debut, it looks like Jillian Banks more than lives up to the hype.

Delicate, enchanting, and altogether intangible, Memory Of A Cut Off Head is a venture into the unexpected.

It's an immersive album, without ever fading away from your immediate attention

At once escapist and heavily personal, it’s a dark, pop-perfect, melancholic fantasy.

Essentially, what each track on At Hope’s Ravine has in common, is the blistering intensity with which it’s delivered, culminating in the ever-intensifying title track and the cathartic sonic explosion with which it bows out. A staggering debut album.

Unusually consistent while still admirably varied, Chaosmosis is one of the early delights of the year.

Joanna Gruesome have adapted, honed and stretched their sound on Peanut Butter, and though nothing here sticks in the brain quite like ‘Sugarcrush’ or ‘Secret Surprise’, their tip as one of Britain’s brightest new hopes is more than backed up on this showing.

No doubt some old fans will continue to decry this latest chapter in Rolo Tomassi’s seemingly endless search to scratch their inner itch, but make no mistake; this is a confident return to form.

Among its mix of roistering anthems and melodramatic balladry, ‘9’ exudes a supple confidence throughout, engaging in some of the most enthralling Australian psychedelia to emerge from 2021 (of which there is plenty).

Although previous work has never shied away from her individual experience, here Laura elevates her lyricism to new heights.

'The Tarnished Gold' is a tighter, more familiar album from a band that have always done their own thing, and it's a very well-worked compromise – this is fantastic stuff.

It won’t be quite as divisive as its predecessor - not least because this iteration of Black Country, New Road has ceased to exist before it’s even been heard - but ‘Ants From Up There’ might yet win over those stifled by hype first time around.

Despite the luxurious, audible excess, Dying is a masterclass of refrain.

The Dots is an outright success. It combines forward-thinking sound design with complex songwriting, and an astute taste for pop hooks with rich, intelligent lyrical content. It’s a joy to experience.

Whether it be these jacked-up moments or those hazy, sinking flurries such as the freakish downer ‘Merry Nightmare’, everything Scott has written on Sunshine Redux encapsulates all of his best qualities. This time though, those qualities are amplified, pristinely-recorded and have even caught the sun a bit.

‘Bright Magic’ flourishes at its most calm and erupts at its most fervent, lending itself neatly to a state of anxious tension, sonically chronicling the faded walk back from the club, when dawn and dusk blur into irrelevance.

It’s immediate and hard-hitting in the same way as blues rock.

Trevor Powers has crafted an album full of malice and aggression that it lives up to its title, but it is peppered with themes of hope and optimism.

With short tracks, skits and interludes admittedly Yes Lawd! does feel a bit more like a mixtape than an album at times but that’s simply the NxWorries way. In a pairing with this much chemistry, they can be forgiven for getting a little carried away.

Packed full of bright ideas and moreish hooks, ‘Dead Hand Control’ is a hopeful document about finding peace in your relationships and immediate surroundings, even when the world is on fire.

Colourful, brilliantly messy, and a fully committed hodge-podge of psych and spacecake croons, ‘Awaken, My Love!’ is unlikely to shed further light on exactly what Childish Gambino is at heart, but by now, Glover’s erratic approach is surely part of his central appeal.

Life Without Sound feels more confident, the songs themselves coming from a more positive position.