While they could go darker, grizzlier, or even shinier, I Love You achieves what few debuts can, by making one hell of an opening statement.

Evans The Death's debut album is full of promise in bitesize two-minute chunks, and we can expect to see more from them in the future.

Geese manage to add interesting new wrinkles to their sound, suggesting that, in time, the post-punk rulebook could yet be ripped up all over again.

A more pure and intense sound, less manufactured and acutely heartfelt.

Not everything works, but far more does than you’d expect, given how gleefully the band seem to be throwing anything and everything at the wall to see what sticks.

Emotionally honest, across its twelve tracks the group detail feelings of longing, losing your sense of self and awaiting something more in a wholly atmospheric manner. Ripping up their rulebook? Hardly. Giving long-time fans something new to enjoy? You bet.

Young Dreams have created a collection that compacts all the sunny sounds of youthful hopes and expectations into one blissful whole.

They're bold, they're tight in their production and they're not afraid to strip things back to their bare essentials or allow outside influences to shine through.

Across twelve polished tracks, Jade switches from piano ballad to stomping singalong and back again, full of bold choruses and raw, ricocheting vocals.

Four albums in, imperfect as it is, American Football can still build atmospheres like few others.

They aren’t going to be for everyone - and this might not be a record that converts new fans in their droves - but pre-existing fans should be happy.

While this second album seems genuine, and at times very good, it just doesn't excite and satisfy in quite the same way as the spontaneous creativity of the debut. 'Gossamer' is one giant juxtaposition that can't quite sit comfortably.

Though starkly different in tone to his debut, ‘Orca’ remains inherently ‘Gus Dapperton’ with his signature growling vocals and effortless alt-pop grooves and indie licks showcasing an artist stepping up musically, while also finding strength in his vulnerability.

At times it's so polite and elegant it almost passes you by, yet on every song you're soon gently overpowered by the sheer heart and homespun wisdom of the lyrics.

The War on Drugs are reliable - not in the sense that they’re workhorses, but more in that Adam’s years-long close study of guitar rock has now evidently become an incontestable mastery.

The echoic wisps and nebulous smoke clouds from their first album have been significantly dialled-back, resulting in a more taut, wiry sound that feels both more focussed and more sinister.

As is always the case with albums of this nature that brim top-to-toe with guests, it’s sometimes hard to locate the thread that runs through it all. Nevertheless, there’s a terrific bounty to be enjoyed in the centre of the Vernon-Dessner Venn diagram.

Think the organised chaos of ‘70s NYC post-punk, or even the near-drone of erstwhile Leeds rockers Eagulls. And even as snarking on social media has moved into decidedly passe territory, the chorus of ‘Connect To Consume’ does remain a stellar one.

Throughout the record, Doja has the method for seeing soaring stats down: Instagram caption ready lyrical quips, a flurry of famous pals (The Weeknd and JID also appear), and an effortless kaleidoscopic pop soundtrack backing it all up.

More than anything though this is a record which feels warmed by summer sun, reminiscent of misty sunsets to blistering mid-mornings it listens like an album made by a band from California rather than New York.

It feels darker an offering than some of their earlier work, more textured and full of otherworldly sound effects that often only become obvious on multiple listens.

A melting pot of the band’s real-life influences - with more elements of dance and hip hop thrown into their rock hybrid than ever before - this is a version of You Me At Six we’ve never seen before, and it’s certainly bold.

‘Felt Better Alive’ isn’t going for high art, he’s not looking to create another masterpiece, as evident in the nursery rhyme stomp of ‘Out of Tune Balloon’ and ‘Fingee’, a song that can be best described as Chas n Dave-meets-Lankum that barely lasts two minutes. But this is the sound of one of rock’s most enduring survivors exhaling and having fun, which is ultimately all that matters.

If we're honest, the first half of the album, title track aside, is slightly cringeworthy, both in terms of music and the production. But the whole record is redeemed, beautifully, by the last three tracks.

With fewer hands stirring the pot this time around, she’s had ample opportunity to come even more into her own, pulling off the bouncy, subtly ska-influenced WLW bop ‘hover like a GODDESS’ and introspective guitar pop groove of ‘curious/furious’ and ‘ur a stranger’ with stylish ease. Most intriguing, perhaps, are her forays into post-hardcore, unleashing a tremendous scream over the top of crunching guitars in the dying moments of ‘ it’s my fault’, but not everything goes quite so smoothly.

If he’s trying things on for size still, then most of ‘Wishbone’ fits Conan Gray rather well, his not-quite-angst meeting its musical equivalent in its not-quite-alternative sound.

With a bit more focus and a more cohesive feel running throughout it, this could've been a great record. As it is, perhaps as a result of their success to date and the expectation it undoubtedly brings, it feels almost like a missed opportunity.

Sonnymoon have taken all that we know of our earthly pop, and reconstructed them through the eyes of an alien, and as their first official attempt, it's a pretty good one.