A rare album without a single Achilles heel, The Magic Gang have created a debut that’ll be remembered as a milestone moment in years to come.

Though the writing is clever and at times funny, the whininess and constant soul-searching shuts the audience out, and anyone deciding to stay is bludgeoned again and again with his relentless wet sentimentality.

As usual, it features some reliably masterful beat work and production, but, at the same time, falls somewhat short in becoming the grand defining statement that its creator was intending it to be.

All in all, the blanketing lime-lit production, the in-your-face ’60s nostalgia, the five-sugars-in-the-tea gooiness of it all may be too cloying for some, but Miles Kane has been so upfront about these musical influences, and for so long, that one can only admire him for so faithfully embodying them.

Their fourth album, Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action is a thumping beast full of deliberate, sudden movements and big melodies.

Poignant, refined and still packed with relatable energy, the duo feel even more confident second time around.

‘Lifetime’ remains one of the album’s strongest pursuits; lovestruck and introspective, each beat keenly felt. The album revels in this on a whole; a lovelorn sheen which dances between interludes. It’s less dancefloor filler, more earnest confessions and professions of absolute adoration.

R. Cole Furlow has managed to piece together a jigsaw of DIY recording methods, thrashy punk, grungy distorted noise and glowing synths to brilliant effect.

Grown up, spotlessly polished and now with full-fledged circuitry, these pirates are machines now, making Teleman’s debut nothing short of electric.

Only rarely can the listener form more than an ephemeral bond. ’Keep It Tight’ and ‘Friend Like That’ have an all-for-one gang mentality akin to chats with old friends. Unfortunately, it otherwise feels like watching strangers from across a dance floor.

What stops the record being preposterous, what keeps it charming and fun throughout, what makes it okay for ‘Mid Century Modern Nightmare’ to rhyme “bourgeoisie” with “cups of tea” is the presence of Gruff.

A complete joy.

[Tracer] is more expansive and impressive than their previous output.

As a first collection of work from the band this is a stunning release, bursting with life and creativity and fully deserving of the attention and praise that is bound to come its way.

Alex Kapranos is on typically droll, playful lyrical form, too, grounding the record in Franz tradition, but the sound of ‘The Human Fear’ suggests a band still brimming with ambition.

Uncle, Duke and The Chief is a chirpy affair that’s very much in the vein we’ve come to expect, even when there’s a sadness permeating the lyrics.

Billie Joe and Norah’s frolic into the Everlys’ back-catalogue makes a rewarding listen and serves its purpose mighty well: to retell an old American classic that deserves re-telling.

Whilst the album as a whole doesn't necessarily tread new ground, and admittedly is a little rough around the edges, it's a promising debut, and you can expect to hear more from Don Broco in the future.

It's an immersive album, without ever fading away from your immediate attention

Not only ambitious, Blood & Chemistry is also invigorating.

Rented World might not be quite the landmark that it’s predecessor was-- it’s unlikely to be a fixture of too many album of the year lists outside of the punk scene--but regardless of the accolades it may or may not win, it is evidence of a band who know exactly what they want to do, and have little trouble in achieving it.

Drop your expectations of freak pop from another dimension, and there’s plenty to like.

Sunny Hills is at its best when it keeps things simple, with the taut ‘Dreamer’ the clear standout; perhaps next time, All We Are won’t throw quite so many ideas at the wall, because few of them stick here.

This is no blistering return, but a pleasant one nonetheless. Fuzzy and frustrated, much like its title, the tension throughout ‘Ongoing Dispute’ frequently threatens to bubble over into fury, but is always brought back.

‘9 Sad Symphonies’ is an album of time-travelling ‘Merry Happy’-ish fables, where Kate paints the British woman in an Americanised world, making romantic strife a cinematic epic, effortlessly capturing and healing the hyperbole of her heart, a needed return from Britain’s most emotionally deft and comedically deadpan pop artist.

Jassbusters is the album of a musician who has been around the block a bit, knows what he wants and more importantly how to get it.

While ‘Take The Sadness…’ may not be a bolshy, career-defining move, it is a shimmering, reflective gem, hoping to offer a little relief from the darkness.

It's punk rock by the numbers.