The record is a first full effort bustling with ideas, characterised by the dual voices of Sean Armstrong and Jack Mellin. Sean’s voice is a tender, swaying one, while Jack packs more punch, and brings urgent stabs of guitar.

‘Written & Directed’ sees the quartet evolving into the rock outfit they’d always threatened to be.

As effortlessly rich as Wondrous Bughouse seems for the listener, it's evident this record took Powers to places he wishes he’d never been. Darkness has never sounded so gloriously technicolor.

A complete joy.

If the hype machine had previously inflated letlive's worth beyond their means then with this LP they are most certainly redressing that balance.

A record that’s equal parts sugar rush power-pop and low-end meandering.

With each track melting into each other, LUMP feels like a self-contained trip, giving no hints as to the future of the project outside this release, but holding plenty of wonder inside.

[Breakthrough] is so much more than the hectic pastiches of exoticism that The Gaslamp Killer is famous for. Meticulous arrangements, pace, narrative and emotional authenticity are prioritized over an all-out assault of catatonia-inducing madness to convey its message.

It’s not necessarily one to be filed alongside ‘Parklife’ or ‘Definitely Maybe, but there’s a distinct whiff of the era’s wistfulness across ‘Human’ and ‘Spies’ - plus a cheeky repeated “hello” in ‘Pretty Face’ that’s surely a nod to the Oasis track of the same name.

Walking Like We Do is expansive lyrically, thematically and sonically, touching on social inequality and frustration with the current political and societal climate.

They have managed to create an almost flawless punk album.

Bringing together two parallel creative paths, the result is an irresistible tautness that shapes their entire first full-length, angular lines competing with Trilling’s diary scribble writing; her vulnerable admissions bolstered by a serious punch.

On a record that outwardly calls for the end of us, there’s plenty to live for, even if it’s simply the subtle beauty of Nothing.

Their deep sea dive of a debut gradually evolves into a rich and colourful source of escape, like a coral reef excavation with the occasionally grizzly-toothed white shark thrown in for good measure.

With Loom, Fear of Men have created something more than mere fragments; a record which could engulf you if you give it chance; where sounds and textures merge together to create a beautifully bleak story.

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.

Often doesn’t even sound like a record at all, and more like a live set.

It’s all effortlessly pulled together by Frances’ distinctive and enthralling vocals.

‘Printer’s Devil’ is the sound of a band who seem to have had a significant boost in their sonic confidence, even if Julia’s words are as fraught as ever.

They’re not boasting rock and roll’s supermodel aesthetic for sure, but it doesn’t mean a lot of people wont fall in love with that scruffy rock band next door.

It’s all executed with the same kind of effortless charm that’s characterised Malkmus’ entire career.

Deap Vally were always turned to eleven, Femejism has them reaching for twelve.

It’s already been a long journey for this band, but it feels like they’re only just beginning to take the right track.

The album suffers from a few rough patches, but Geese have freed themselves from all expectations, which is a rare feat for a second album, and worthy of praise.

Releasing two similar albums in such close proximity might seem like a cynical attempt to double-down on the success of the first, but rather than feel like a re-release thrown together by label execs, these were the tracks as they should be; rich, nuanced, and steeped in major key melodies.

Overall, Write In shows that, beneath their more leftfield influences, Happyness have it in them to be classic songwriters of considerable skill.

It seals the chapter of Jordan’s late teens, early twenties, and it lands up being his finest work by a country mile.

Despite all the doubts and the self-admonishing, in a strange way you won’t find a more affirming album all year.