His identity is in constant flux, making for a revealing and honest listen from one of the most-hyped artists of 2022 so far.

It’s either aural comfort food, or all just a bit, well, obvious. It’s written to a formula for sure. But it’s one that’s served them well, nevertheless.

It’s easy to see why Sam Fender took the outfit out on his recent UK arena jaunt, possessed as they are with heartfelt songs based in place and time, with a few fist-to-the-chest moments.

‘As I Try Not to Fall Apart’ is a subtle evolution for White Lies - progress, after a while spent spinning their wheels.

His perfectly serviceable croon is not quite strong enough to carry it across 16 long tracks. If only he’d given ‘Lightning People’ to Liam Gallagher, it might well have been the soundtrack of the summer. Moments of greatness are plentiful, but ‘Fever Dreams…’ shines brightest when Marr lets his guitar do the talking.

‘The Kick’ doesn’t try to run or distract from feelings of loss and loneliness, instead it faces them head-on while celebrating the joy of being with others through it all.

He hasn’t lost his knack for a great pop hook, as demonstrated by the bubbling synths and snappy 808s on ‘It’s Good To Be Back’. It certainly is.

The impatient will find ‘Once Twice Melody’ a tad wishy-washy, but for those who persevere there’s still a lot going on beneath the waves.

‘PREY//IV’ does not shy away from Alice’s story; instead, its imagery is violent and visceral, with portraits of isolation (‘PINNED BENEATH LIMBS’) and self harm (‘BABY TEETH’) riddled throughout an album defined by a sort of constant itchiness, a wish to rid itself of trauma by occupying it so fully.

‘Dragon New…’ is largely an epic of intimate, stripped-back proportions. Put simply, it’s a masterpiece.

‘The Dream’’s strength is in packing not just alt-J’s usual futuristic twist, but a heavy side serving of nostalgia too. It’s a perfect, subtle, and unpretentious combo.

With resounding beauty, ‘Heterosexuality’ deconstructs social norms through a powerful freedom of self-expression, yet also acknowledges this pain and struggle.

Another truly original triumph.

It makes for a quiet reinvention in the face of adversity, with Le Bon as stylistically light on her feet as ever.

For some, this might be too tame. An album full of ‘Bluish’ rather than ‘Fireworks’. But for others, that means it’s the most accessible.

That ‘Laurel Hell’ exists only because it almost didn’t gives it its power. It provides the space for her mastery of songwriting, and Patrick Hyland’s understated yet orchestral production places Mitski in a realm all her own.

It won’t be quite as divisive as its predecessor - not least because this iteration of Black Country, New Road has ceased to exist before it’s even been heard - but ‘Ants From Up There’ might yet win over those stifled by hype first time around.

What’s crucial is that ‘Let the Festivities Begin!’ never feels like a case of throwing all of these different textures at the wall to see what sticks; instead, the sounds of everywhere from Turkey to Peru to Argentina are wound carefully together on the maddeningly catchy likes of ‘FFS’ and ‘Change of Heart’, before being relayed with exhilarating gusto. There will be few debuts this year that feel like such glorious exercises in musical technicolour.

There’s nothing about the album that’s easy or comfortable to listen to, but it’s so meticulously constructed and so raw across each fragment of existence yeule lays out that its most perplexing moments become its most moving.

Bastille’s choral, digestible power pop DNA is present, but grittier than usual.

Korn are anew, and ‘Requiem’ sees them fearless, no longer managing a balancing act with imprudent collaborators and instead embracing what made them famous to begin with. Impressively, their 14th studio album is teeming with riveting hooks.

Throughout, keys shimmer, the production is bright and sky-facing, with an emphasis on synthetic beats. It makes for an album that’s unsubtle and all the better for it.

On ‘Motordrome’ she returns fresh and reinvigorated. No longer simply living to survive, MØ is having fun being herself.

It’s a record you have to give the space it deserves, rather than dip in and out of. That said, there are still some tracks that are especially sumptuous (‘Healing Hurts’, ‘Out Of This World’), that call attention to the fact that this is her musical cosmos, aware of its own self-indulgences, and no worse for it.

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

A more pure and intense sound, less manufactured and acutely heartfelt.

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.

A puzzling, and largely forgettable collection.