This is a record scored through, unmistakably, with a desire to have some fun.

Rise Ye Sunken Ships is a monster of an album, rich in credibility and one that is often raucous, but never noisy.

It's nothing we haven't heard before, but it's delightfully packaged, making it feel unique in its own way.

While it may be an album with a fairly prescribed pattern, it's one that is done so well and embellished so cutely, that it leaves you feeling an enormous sense of contentment.

An accomplished debut but surely only the mere beginnings of a promising career.

A record which thrives on evoking feeling and catharsis, while remaining committed to their personal influences, on Doom Days they’ve managed to deftly build a conceptual world not all too different to the one we’re facing right now, and that feels like a triumph in itself.

Like many other soundtracks, ‘Fantasy’ creates a mood - nostalgic; euphoric - and there’s a clear thread throughout that ties these thirteen tracks together. But soundtracks are also often intended to feature in the background, and ultimately ‘Fantasy’ too easily fades into it.

Undoubtedly there’s riches to be found here but the treasure map is harder to follow than ever.

There’s undeniably magical moments here, and taken in small doses it can be a cosmic voyage. All in one go though, its sheer scale can be as daunting as the vastness of what lies beyond the stratosphere.

The rapid rate of return that the band have embraced in recent years has sometimes resulted in less-than-airtight quality control, but at least, on this evidence, they’re having fun.

Aqualung has been ingeniously invigorated.

It’s the uniquely sombre and contemplative Iggy Pop album we didn’t realise we needed.

Jersey Devil comes with a real sense of sharp focus; cleverly worked melodies and handsomely crafted choruses come to the fore, pushing the woozy soundscapes to the back.

She hasn’t managed to effectively distill her many ideas into something that sounds cohesive After seven years away, that feels like a bit of a let-down.

Taylor’s rapturous explorations of womanhood are torn through the mundanity of growing older, the depressive nature of Groundhog Day-normality and the catharsis of splitting even further as age makes concrete her contradictions. Across this - her most concentrated and burning record - Taylor’s hardened Sheffield-isms float through the tearjerker soul of a thousand women.

A record that intertwines effortlessly whilst showcasing flair beyond belief, Alone For The First Time is authentic, new and first and foremost captivating.

The sound of two artists pushing each other forward makes for a fascinating listen. This isn’t just the sound of two polar opposites coming together and hoping something sticks. This is a group that have earned their right to be heard. They should be taken seriously.

Until The Tide Creeps In is a record totally out of step with any modern music scene, and all the more timeless and special for it.

This is a maddened work that deals with its own conscience; a debut grappling with heavy topics and conquering them.

Branching out musically is a bold step that pays off in flashes, but the riff work in ‘Welcome to Hell’ and ‘Jailbird’’s brief guitar solo confirm that, at heart, Crocodiles are strongest with guitars in hand.

QTY is as timeless, compelling and clever as you could hope for first time round.

From this new personal phase, Flume’s latest techno-charged offering upscales the drops, fidgety distortion and replay value that has proved a constant in his playbook.

IDER are back at what they do best, providing a glimmering sense of hope that we aren’t alone with our anxieties.

When so much of what Juanita had written for Until the Lights Fade clearly involves a folk-rock flavour, it’s a shame it wasn’t fleshed out accordingly.

Powell’s music is for sweaty, unconcerned nights of utter debauchery--the kind of whirlwind Saturday night where there’s no way you’re getting home until at least midday. This makes listening to the album as a whole a frankly exhausting experience.

Even the weakest Libs composition is a standard many British songwriters can only aspire to, to this day. If nothing else, it’s heartwarming that the story is still unfolding for the Likely Lads.

Colors is Beck at his most exuberant, concocting weird, wonderful dancefloor fillers like a mad disco scientist. Good things come to those who wait.

If Temples needed to prove that they were more than talented revivalists, then Volcano should silence the doubters. Sure, you’re unlikely to find a Stormzy sample buried within its midst, but Temples’ second statement shows that innovation and notable progress can still sound classic.