Ultimately, it feels as if she’s still waiting for her words and her sound to match up, but what we’ve got in the meantime is an intriguingly personal record.

Lyrically, it’s a scattered series of ruminations on the end of an era, with anger, guilt and sadness all permeating its fabric. Musically, though, it expands the singer’s palate, transmitting these feelings via new, punchier textures.

A stellar record. ... Which is to say, it’s bangers, bops and top-notch observational lyrics at every turn.

At Best Cuckold is so highly polished that it feels a little lacking in the kind of blindsided naivety that comes hand in hand with romance.

There are occasional flashes of brilliance and inspiration here but for the most part it feels disjointed, a victim of 'too many cooks' syndrome and disappointingly conventional for an artist with such a proven track record for forward-thinking music.

'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.

Rarely entering the realm of pastiche, in all, this makes for a brilliant, ageless album.

If Humanz was a reaction about a world that seemed to be heading to hell, then The Now Now is a more spaced-out affair, stripped of its star-studded collaborations and bathed in the apparent apathy of the modern age.

Human Ceremony isn’t anywhere near fault-free, but its charm arrives when the trio get ahead of themselves.

Steeped in decade-spanning traditions of pop, rock and folk, it’s an ambitious record marred only by early and apparent nonchalance.

Ultimately, ‘Man Alive!’ feels like the work of an artist in transition: a handful of stunning tracks surrounded by some backfiring experiments. It’s frustrating but there are still gems to be found amid the soul-searching.

The results are surprisingly cohesive; Sky Larkin could often be boisterous to the point of verging on bombast, but this is a record that speaks to growing measure and maturity.

On her hugely-anticipated third, there’s plenty of sun-drenched sonic optimism but not so much that’s all that radical.

An ambitious, joyous, heartfelt collection that finds him revelling in analogue instrumentation, expansive arrangements, and unashamedly retro sonic touchstones.

Without any voices swimming around the noise, the record does lack the variety that came before. Instead, this is a stubborn embracing of all the weird things that make up this unique trio.

In many ways Perpetual Surrender is the average British weather forecast; patchy, dull and cloudy with occasional sunny spells. Room for improvement.

Washed Out himself stumbled first time round, even. Here he creates a fuller piece, totally unconcerned with its context and its audience. Hence why it excels.

Even though the likes of ‘Dylan And Caitlin’ (a duet with The Anchoress on Dylan Thomas and wife Caitlin Macnamara’s tempestuous marriage) or the poignant nostalgia of ‘In Eternity’--seemingly a sentimental ode to former bandmate Richey Edwards--are thematically complex, they’re coated in unabashedly big hooks. It’s a classic Manics trick and one that still works; across 12 tracks though, you do start to crave the spray-painted antagonists of old to pop up every now and then.

With ‘West Of Eden’ HMLTD have fought off the suffocating grip of overhype to deliver a debut album that is a cut above the rest, even if it is a little overdue.

An exciting glimpse at where they’re heading next, The Districts are here for keeps and we’re glad.

While opener ‘Name For You’ is catchy, and album highlight ‘Rubber Ballz’ is a foot-stomping earworm, Heartworms largely represents a loss of ambition.

Messages from the deepest isolation are most likely to be a SOS or the increasingly deranged words of someone losing touch with their sanity. TFCF somehow manages to be both. Alive with unease. Shorn of every accessory, everything to mask the sharp taste, the familiar duality of Liars is starker than ever.

Agut-wrenching yet joyous journey into the thick of her every feeling, with neither sugar-coating or shame. It’s a walk on a tightrope, balanced precariously between a downward spiralling cascade of thought.

It’s an album about what happens next rather than looking back. They might be a band in thrall to the 1960s but this is a record that tells us to live in the now.

sity. Dayve Hawke has created a record that's as graceful (sorry) as it is mighty.

Fleshed out with a full band, tracks like newest single ‘In Your Car’ sound dramatic, full-bodied, but still in possession of the emotional intricacies that made us enjoy Big Deal in the first place.

Sure, these glossy throwbacks to eighties synth-pop, soul and funk may not be as innovative as anything on Temple’s previous albums, but he does them incredibly well, and it'd be a fool who doesn't give them a go.

The music is complex, but not in a Phillip Glass orchestral kind of way.