It’s clear from the album that Tate McRae’s arsenal of jagged pop weapons is extensive, and can be expertly wielded when she wants.

Across its 11 tracks, ‘Raving Ghost’ finds impressive variety and fun: less a haunted relic of the past, and more a Halloweeny romp through it.

Where the distinctly Strokes-y melancholy of ‘Dead Air’, or the darker stalk of the Matt Helders-featuring ‘Thoughtful Distress’ succeed, others (‘Home Again’, ‘Old Man’) are throwaway jangles that feel like AHJ-by-numbers.

While there may be signs of holding back, ‘People Who Aren’t There Anymore’ still carries more than its fair share of upbeat anthems. This album isn’t much different, but why the band would ever change is a question that doesn’t need asking.

As insatiably catchy as it is disarming, the album marries its two sides perfectly.

A real insight into Nicky Palermo’s mind, ‘A Short History of Decay’ is one of Nothing’s most inward-looking releases to date.

Khan's state of the world message might be slightly obscured, but there's an obvious feeling of hope and refreshing lack of restraint on this hugely enjoyable return.

Whilst there are a couple of noteworthy exceptions there is simply too much here that simply slips into background music fodder.

‘Real Power’ sits around the mid-tempo rather than going hell for leather as they may have done in younger years. Far from a slip into the middle of the road however, they find new ways to make it interesting.

Deleter successfully blurs boundaries between time and space while gifting the listener with the unexpected opportunity for a total sonic catharsis.

London Grammar have created an album of graceful sophistication.

Though it may come across as an innocuous affair to some, Lucid Dreaming simultaneously triumphs as both a cohesive, introspective body of work and a bona fide pop record.

By the time we reach ‘Swept To The Sky’, his transformation from indie-pop upstart to artistic troubadour is complete.

Arlo emerges with a newfound directness, finding a sound and voice that fully represents the multifaceted complexities of the world outside the bedroom.

Requiem is the furthest Goat have ventured in expansiveness and length. Despite that, Requium is their most accessible moment to date.

With sticky melodies and a spring in its step, ‘Medicine At Midnight’ is an experiment that pays off, simultaneously adding a new shade to their sound and injecting a dose of fun and escapism when we need it most.

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

Over four songs and just twelve minutes, it packs enough punch to inspire air guitar, desk drumming, shower singing and wanting to start a band just so you can try and shred like these three. Truly fantastic.

This time, the fiery furnace powering their new record comes from slashing open every membrane; letting ideas wildly collide like supercharged, excitable atoms. Brushstrokes and processes are all over this record.

Aalthough Great Big Flamingo Burning Moon is perhaps done little favours by its February release date; woozy summer drives are when it’ll really find its feet.

Not The Actual Events serves as an excellent primer for what is to come. But more importantly, and more pressingly, it asks more questions and takes more risks than any welcome back should. It’s not a postcard of a legendary past, its a battlecry for something truly epic to come.

While Savage remains the same bleary-eyed and soft-hearted crooner he always has been, Bermuda Waterfall feels far more widescreen than anything he’s done before.

They channel the essence of previous decades. Throughout, the band use a variety of vintage synth tones and guitar and basslines that even Nile Rodgers would kill for.

More so than some of his other recent material, the record has a sense of drama and occasion to it, as well as being the most musically seamless album he’s made in nearly twenty years, since 2004’s ‘A Grand Don’t Come for Free’.

‘Into The Blue’ largely finds itself coasting on one level. The standouts are the songs that break out of the formula.

The musical accompaniment to the installation works perfectly as a concept album, where heady instrumentals and psychedelic pop nuggets are intertwined with swelling strings and a nursery rhyme story narrated by The Clash’s Mick Jones.

So Versions, the answer to the question of what happened when Zola Jesus met JG Thirlwell with orchestral intentions, is a success.

Whilst Teeth Dreams isn't a bad album, it feels pedestrian and ordinary compared to what The Hold Steady are capable of.