Far from snug or welcoming, the Gang’s overpoweringly thick-sounding ninth album is as refreshingly abstract as anything they’ve done before.

Competent. Completely forgettable.

It's just a little more grown up.

Their fireside intimacy remains consistent throughout, despite candid storytelling, as they ask for respite in response to an intrusive sex dream on ‘Hotel TV’, and endure cyclical break-up-make-up tension on ‘The Actor’. And even in their more minimal arrangements - see ‘Moth Song’ and ‘I’ll Find A Way’ - the group transmute emotion through their harmonic unison.

V For Vaselines has been released a few months too late, for V For Vaselines is a summer album.

The literary heft of the record leaves slim pickings for pure listening. The familiarity of the vocal line on ‘He’ provides a satisfactory hook, ‘She’ is dreamy and melancholy, while ‘In The Green Chapel’ combines Hayden’s still-unmistakeable vocal with a softly-plucked guitar line that bears similarity to New Order’s ‘True Faith’.

While it may flag a bit in its latter moments though, All Nerve still has moments where the magic of this particular, iconic incarnation of The Breeders feels recaptured.

It has a tendency to be superfluous--a stray tabla rhythm is never too far away--but ultimately it’s a fun record that’s clearly born of love and dedication. That’s something to be commended.

An indie-disco hit, or a gorgeous ballad are only a blink away from dead in the water mediocrity and if you’re not patient with the album you might be tempted to write the whole thing off. Don’t though. It’s worth it.

Tourist In This Town’s strengths are also its weaknesses though. The visceral, in-the-moment recording at times gives the record a life and character that feels charming and personal, but elsewhere feels a little too rushed, and being a little heavy-handed in the use of synths and backing results in sensory overload and slightly jarring instrumental clashes.

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.

Eclipse falls flat too often--eclipsing, some might say, the stadium-worthy songs we know he can achieve.

It’s a bit like listening to someone attempting to fit a round peg into a square hole. But while he might have occasionally bitten off a little more than he can chew, there’s still undeniably some moments with serious bite here.

It’s another collection of decent, cheerful indie-pop.

The Gotobeds execute a formula of beer-drenched reckless abandon, tense odes to the unloved and loveless. The result is a smart, sharp record to soundtrack the end of the world (or maybe even just a hungover Sunday afternoon.)

While intriguing and often beautiful, it’s also a little frustrating. There’s a sense that this is only half a story, half a tale told.

Their newest full-length isn’t by any means leaps and bounds from what they’ve done before, but when they’ve got their brand of metallic pop so well-honed, why would we hope for anything else?

Fast forward several years, and we find Will, her first record since 2013’s ‘Nepenthe’ both taking her music further into more straightforward terrain while remaining doggedly, indelibly weird.

It is far too adult oriented rock and middle of the road to be anything but the sound of a band coasting, rather than making waves.

There are just a few too many of these aggressive, tumultuous ballads and the result is each one loses some of its power every time another crashes into being. Moments where LUH lose their way are compensated for by the flashes of brilliance littered throughout.

A lot of it, like album closer ‘Homesick’ featuring none--other than Coldplay’s Chris Martin, feels overthought and calculated. It’s a shame because those moments where Dua Lipa truly shines are those moments where she was allowed to just be herself.

While ultimately a step forward - most notably, in its introduction of greater lyrical vulnerability and richer sounds most notable - a little more cohesion wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Working Girl isn’t the sleekest of albums but the stumbles and scrapes that Little Boots overcomes are a testament to her desire for change.

Collaborations here, there and everywhere, for the most part Kaytranada pulls the strings. But it is a work that threatens to find him in the shadows, leaving the spotlight to bigger names.

Hopelessness is an exercise in provocation. It’s anti-apathy, determined to stir thought, even if that’s total disgust and dejection.

Zayn’s fourth is admirable in its emotional mining, is rich in execution and soul, and indeed his brain-scratching melodic riffs will have die-hard fans blushing - but even on this, what we’re told is his ‘most vulnerable’ release, the treading of the long-trodden, stripped-back, ex-boyband desire path leaves the record wanting for just a little more Zayn sparkle.

Equally, whilst there are no real lows on the album, the highs are equally not of the sky-scraping variety, ‘Let Go’ ending the album on a quiet if easily forgettable note.

Although Upside Down Mountain could do with a little more lyrical variety and structural experimentation, it is strong.