‘Bad Things (That Make You Feel Good)’ sounds like a sped-up take on wholesome pop king Bleachers, while opener ‘Should Be Dancing’ features a half-arsed attempt at pal Alex Turner’s croon. ... A little more humour on Mini Mansions’ third, and they might’ve been able to pull it off.

‘Tell Me That It’s Over’ is a superlative ode to vulnerability, permitting these indie wallflowers to flourish in technicolour.

For anyone who’s long fallen for the Derry native’s charms, third time’s a winner - for anyone who finds comfort in revelling in stripped-back melancholy, it’s a dream.

Scattered takes of pop, gruff-punk and sun-kissed melodies underpin these tales of despondency to cement a whole new style for a band near two decades in, a sound that Joyce Manor have yet to have presented but one that fits them perfectly, and a masterful progression of all that has come before.

Love Is Magic feels like a victory lap. Frequently boundary-pushing, side-splittingly funny and anything but safe, John Grant’s fourth LP is a rip-roaring thrill ride that’s immensely danceable to boot. Magic really does work in mysterious ways.

Thankfully, it’s always Doyle’s intention to break down boundaries, even if he’s ticking verse-into-chorus boxes. As a result, music is the real winner.

Let’s Eat Grandma clearly have the potential to merge fantasy and instant fix pop, but this debut is more a showcase of their peculiarities than anything else.

If there is one fault, it may be that, at times, the production and backing is a little too restrained.... [But] It really is a thing of beauty, and gets better with every listen; one of the surest signs of something that will ultimately be deemed timeless.

Whilst the majority of the album is technically admirable for what it does achieve, it is also frustratingly slow going at times.

The result is a fun collection of melodically versatile songs which celebrate the power that can be found in dwelling on the fringes.

‘The Good Kind’ is a slow burner, but a rewarding one.

Without the literary cues being on show, there’s somewhat of a jarring effect as the record staggers between styles; the menacing high-pitched note that pierces the rumbling bass of ‘Holy Bones’ hints at danger, but comes met with an underwhelming chorus.

It’s jarring, unhinged and idiosyncratic, in part akin to a musical at its most weird (not least on closer, ‘To Know Her’). Yet, for a performer and creative as unchained to convention as Jessica Winter, it was never going to be anything less.

Where her debut ‘Not Your Muse’ saw her solidify her status as a truly modern voice within jazz and soul, ‘Woman Of Faces’ transports her to somewhere entirely otherworldly.

For an album winding in length, it doesn’t outstay its welcome; if the jump to a major means more lovingly fashioned breeziness like this, then so much the better.

A journey of self-discovery, confidence abounding like limits simply don’t exist.

This is an album polished enough to see your face in, and yet it’s probably--and this isn’t necessarily a criticism--the most disjointed Holy Fuck album to date.

'Breakup Song' manages to hone and control their more outré-moments into a more cohesive structure than before without every compromising the band's predilection for sheer bonkers-ness.

[The Haunted Man is] beautiful, daring, and captivating, the sound of pop's dark heart carving out its own niche and cementing Khan's status as one of our most inventive, ambitious artists.

Much like a pungent stilton, this is difficult prospect to recommend or advise against, especially if this is your first experience of Xiu Xiu. Dip your toe in the water, though, and there are bits to love.

Where ‘Spirituals’ - which both marks a return from a four-year break and Santi’s first release as an independent artist - works best, is as reminder and introduction. The cut-and-paste, mixtape ethos that shone through in the first place is still there.

With songs that have long ago morphed into brutal initiations, if you can somehow defend yourself long enough Ho99o9 almost invite you to see their world through their hazed-over eyes. In a shadowy landscape of startling binary logic, it becomes easy to draw the line through through Converge, The Prodigy, Death Grips, Pantera, The Stooges, Danny Brown and DMX if you’re only here with that one goal--to start the fire. Ho99o9’s particular arson is burning bright.

It’s a rousing ending, and one of the few mesmerising moments on the album: it’s just a shame that the band don’t commit to one route or the other.

The Philadelphia quartet’s appeal is built on an earnestness and an honesty that leaks from every sweat-channelling pore of The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us.

Warm and opening yet still dazzlingly inventive.

‘The Prettiest Curse’ is packed with grooves, hooks and riffs, and from the opening bass drum to the closing fade, not a single beat is missed.

It's loveable, thrilling and properly innovative.

The puffier-chested side of his persona is still perfectly enjoyable, but when he packs away his bluster for the second half of the record, he creates something truly memorable.