Tales From Terra Firma offers a richer, fuller sound than the debut album and some tracks are tinged with an ever-so-gentle coating of sobriety and growing maturity but the important components of melody and subtlety are relatively unchanged.

Machineries Of Joy isn’t [the truly vital album], but what it is is a touching, ambitious and inventive album, and one which stands head and shoulders above most

Inevitably, in this bursting collection of high energy rock, the album loses its bite towards the end.

The real charm of this record comes in its additional moments of character; the spoken-word interruptions (‘Do Something’) or soundbite introductions (‘She Wants Me Now’) which somehow tie the album together even more tightly.

The record finds a way of making her atypical pop sit comfortably in the mainstream, offering something genuinely new. Coming a long way since sitting adjacent to Pharrell in the studio at NYU, Maggie Rogers has certainly found her own voice.

It's one of those albums you could listen to again and again.

Concept albums may not be for everyone, and that's understandable, but they usually prove interesting at the very least, and this is no different.

Maps & Atlases have carved for themselves a neat little niche in the indie rock world. And we should be grateful for that, rather than having another generic album, and be interested to see where the band goes next.

The quartet may have bucked expectations here, but in venturing into the shadows, they’ve made their boldest move yet.

‘Unlimited Love’ certainly won’t win over the naysayers. As the laid-back funk and wordplay of ‘Poster Child’ attests, all their usual tropes are present and correct, meaning whatever your view on the Chili Peppers, this record will only confirm it.

There is intelligence and creativity on display here that other bands would do well to pay attention to.

>> is not a pleasurable listen and it is not an easy listen, but it is an incredible one.

‘Generations’’ best trick is in its variety: if Will is undoubtedly a curious, enthusiastic sort, then that curiosity stretches across propulsive, vitriolic riffs (‘Bethlehem’), idiosyncratic, stripped-back synths (‘Hide It Away’), Randy Newman-esque piano send-offs (‘Fine’) and more. What unites the record, however, is an urgent, anxious sense of unrest.

While things may start to sag towards the end as the wind in King Gizzard’s new sails dips low, Paper Maché Dream Balloon is undoubtedly one of their more confident statements yet.

Delicate duets, bluegrass string strumming and some of the most genuinely emotive lyrics you'll hear all year combine to produce an album of rare and beautiful quality.

An album that’s brimming with solid songwriting and expansive production, there’s an enormity to this second outing - even at its most brooding - that makes for a compelling, colossally dynamic pop record.

Recycled though some of these tales may be--his notable past tends to weave its way into much of his work--sung with his Southern drawl and playful hollers, Seasick Steve just about has the charm and vigour to carry them through.

Flexing their muscles as they stretch their creativity, on Pollinator Blondie might not be testing any limits or redefining any capabilities, but they make thinking inside the box sound pretty damn fun.

Your Friend’s unusual combination of the ultra-real with the unnatural world of electronic manipulation makes for a slightly unsettling final product.

For all its adventures into the weird and wonderful, You’re Welcome retains the hallmarks of Wavves at their most recognisable and best.

Trick manages to blend melancholy and unsettling weirdness with a strange, uplifting sense of hope.

He’s created an admittedly imperfect but nonetheless loving ode to some of the greatest milestones in electronic music.

A masterclass in reinventing ‘70s rock for a ‘20s audience, Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard are a captivating oddity.

The electronic beat of ‘METALIZM’, with its winding guitars and chanting vocals echoing their melody verbatim, comes over a little too recent-era Muse than anyone needs. But what, on the surface, is mostly a fun, noisy collection does also offer an infinite rabbit hole to dive down.

Punctuated by Simon’s misanthropic frustrations at a post-pandemic world, it’s a bold and brilliant but bileful record that may alienate even the most diehard of those ‘early-albums-are-the-best’ fans.

With highly catchy choruses on ‘Heart of Mine’ and ‘Deliver It’, it’s obvious that the band can deliver the pop sheen they are known for. But while reaching for style, it is only by exception that they achieve their usual substance.

Songs pound onwards, elliptical guitar lines wrapping round and round, and there's an all encompassing feeling of travelling vast distances. Relentlessly, confidently and quite, quite spectacularly.

The result is a largely mixed bag of lyrically intelligent but sometimes slightly weak songs, all with a distinct air of the celestial.