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.

Tightly paced electronic seams blur with floating chamber pop and global influences, warding off any sense of inertia on an album that has one foot in the worldly and another in the firmament.

‘The Overload’ lives up to its hype with flying colours. Brilliantly constructed to unfurl like some sordid soap opera of Brexit Britain, it brims with vignettes populated by instantly-recognisable caricatures of the now.

This is an irresistibly likeable album, very much in the mould of its creator’s affable, mellow personality.

With ‘Fragments’, Bonobo is as listenable as ever. But this locked groove is one he seems too comfortable in. Once you hear where he can go, there’s a frustrating desire to see him latch on to that fragment of himself rather than the familiar.

While ‘Reflection Of Youth’ delved into intimate soul searching and destructive introspection, ‘Speak’ casts a macroscopic lens on the human experience, delicately documenting Anna’s rising confidence and newfound acceptance in her sense of self.

Committed to tape with the help of Rich Turvey, on ‘Now Or Whenever’ Spector strike between the two eras of their sound, tempering all out alternative bravado with yearningly bittersweet baritone-crooning ballads.

The record spans from spoken word to ‘70s funk and ‘80s glam rock, dabbling in balladry and power pop. It may not be the most polished or serious piece of art to emerge from the pandemic, but it’s impossible to deny the sheer amount of personality and unashamed frivolity bubbling out of ‘Transparency’.

With every listen there’s something else to hear, something new to discover, and something different to feel.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’.

It paints a deeply personal portrait of romance and intimacy, underpinned by an ever-present sense of fun, not least on lead single ‘Daddy’ or the piano-led ‘Please Be Friends’.

‘Marriage’ is the sound of Deap Vally tapping back into what makes them tick, and lays the groundwork for their most exciting era yet.

It should come as little surprise that Lydia has spent time on the standup circuit, and it’s this ability to send up any notions of seriousness that’s Gustaf’s greatest trick. Add some suitable spiky, metronomic riffs and ‘Audio Drag…’ is anything but.

For now, it’s hard to know whether ‘…Pt. 1’ is indicative of the overall direction of ‘Fever Dreams’, or merely one facet of it. Either way, it’s the polished sound of Johnny Marr putting his best foot forward.

There’s an expert tenderness to her stories and their delivery, one cut through by often-unexpected melodic switches. Her ability to hold back, to seemingly cut a track short, brims with confidence.

The real masterstroke of ‘30’, however, comes with how these lyrics - the pain, the self-flagellation (sometimes cruel, often mocking), the hope, the acceptance - are expertly matched musically.

What begins as a deeply personal commentary eventually evolves into a world-renowned producer taking the attention away from his ability to refine others’ work, alternately placing the spotlight over his own voice, with its startling ability to carry a tale of kindred love, loss and the weight of fame.

At its best, ‘CRAWLER’ is fresh, bold and inventive in a way we’ve never seen IDLES attempt to be before.

This is handsome, but not essential.

Not only are many of the tracks here vocal driven, there are some single-worthy hooks too.

Pip Blom haven’t changed their sound, but they do feel like they’ve got to know it better.

It’s a strange mixture of comfort and malaise, but it’s probably the most honest document of the past eighteen months, too.

Despite its heavier moments, ‘Which Way to Happy’ is a genuinely healing listen; an album to get cosy with while its music lovingly soaks your wounds.