For such an introspective record, it sure sounds like community - a portrait of an artist ready to lean into her fears.

Succeeds through the sheer brilliance of its songwriting and the trio’s palpable love of their craft. While perfectly capturing the zeitgeist, HAIM carry the passion, creativity and joy to also cement ‘Women In Music Pt. III’ as a timeless classic.

Even when entering darker territories Pottery keep things jovial, ensuring the album rattles by with spirits high. Their characters are often down-and-out losers, badly clothed with peeling skin and no money, but when they come to ‘Bobby’s Motel’ none of that matters. Here, the scuzz is celebrated, the outside world is non-existent, and there’s always space for another body.

Both playful and powerful in its delivery, ‘Kitchen Sink’ may be built around the challenges so many of us still face - and are angered by - on a near-daily basis, but it also offers a bit of light and - most importantly - liberating relief.

As something cooked up on short notice, it’s a glorious postcard from an unprecedented global moment, and a wonderful teaser for what is to come.

While ‘What’s Your Pleasure’ doesn’t quite hit the heady heights of classic disco its soft-focus imagery might suggest, it’s both a more exciting - and natural - fit for the singer than we’ve heard in some time.

It’s not all perfect: the previously-released title track clocks in as a fairly innocuous hoe-down, while the slightly uncomfortable spoken word midpoint of ‘Florida’ makes for a jarring addition. Still, when ‘Homegrown’ soars, it acts as further proof that few in history can reach the emotional peaks that Neil Young can.

As the record builds to a final cathartic hushed scream, ‘Punisher’ marks a clear step forward, but one that remains as fundamentally graceful as all that has come before.

Every second of ‘Wicked City’ feels meticulously thought through, the huge breadth of sonic terrain the duo cover the result of real care and attention paid at every juncture.

Pairing this with sincere lyricism and soaring musicianship, ‘A Quickening’ emerges as Orlando Weeks’ most personal record by far, and is nothing short of stunning.

While the record does, on occasion, feel weighed down by its own existentialism - the more explicit musings on existence that open (‘I Am’) and close (‘Human’) the record notably - the rich sonic palette and Jehnny’s steely delivery ultimately win out.

The result is still just a big, slick, debatably-decent pop record.

‘The Prettiest Curse’ is packed with grooves, hooks and riffs, and from the opening bass drum to the closing fade, not a single beat is missed.

Those seeking another Interpol record won’t have much luck here, but ‘Muzz’ stands confident on its own two feet.

Where Westerman’s debut suffers is in its consistency: there’s such a distinctive sonic palette that, within a batch of tracks whose tempo never steps past ‘mid’, it’s hard for individual offerings to always stand out. But really he’s done the hard work; now Westerman’s defined his niche, all he has to do is refine it a little.

A couple of times they get some wind in their sails, namely ‘War Dance’ and ‘Turned to String’, but the overall feeling from this is that No Age are, ironically, starting to show their years.

Nothing quite comes close to ‘Cars In Space’ for desk-slapping earwormery, but with three singer-guitarists at play, the music chops and weaves with an impressive intricacy, always stopping itself short of self-indulgence. If you’re looking for a modern, uplifting celebration of all things riff, these boys have got your back.

Infectious, exciting and even a little hedonistic during some of the most confusing of modern times, now’s never been a better time to get lost in this new destination.

‘RTJ4’ is by far Killer Mike and El-P’s most accomplished chapter, wrought with rage but injected with a humour and wisdom that offers razor-sharp clarity and, with that, an unapologetically raw and sobering take on our times.

In 12 songs, they make it pretty clear which side they’re on, and it looks like the winner - smart, engaged, and willing to crack a joke with the faith that their musical dexterity will speak for itself. Love them or hate them, dismiss them at your peril.

It’s all pleasant, but feels inessential and - at times - dated, not least because the lower-tempo tracks veer dangerously close to sounding like chillwave. Domestication has not robbed Sébastien of his adventurousness, but the killer instinct that defines his best work is missing here: ‘Domesticated’ is a meandering listen.

Everything they touch holding a vintage sheen of some kind, but it’s such a broad and masterful selection that there’s no sense of pastiche. The lyrics across the record let it down - they match the random patchwork of the sound, but take a step too far in the direction of gibberish for the most part.

With one foot in the classic NYC underground scenes that paved the way, ‘Underneath’ is pure bass-led, disco ball-flecked Studio 54, while the dance-punk footprints of ESG are all over ‘Cities’’ irrepressible hook and ‘Compromised’ tips a hat to godmother Debbie Harry. ‘Gentle Grip’ sounds timeless.

This whirlwind of self-discovery later in life plays out through individual tales of his romantic encounters, simultaneously juvenile and remarkably profound.

Had they filtered the cacophony of ideas a little more, ‘Notes…’ could have matched ‘A Brief Inquiry…’ as a modern-day classic; as it stands, its legacy looks set to be slightly more conditional.

A stirring and immediate listen, as Charli takes us with her on her lockdown emotional rollercoaster in real time.

Equal parts elegant and antagonistic, it comes together to be every part the listening experience that he wanted it to be - complex, unconventional and ultimately, essential.

It’s an absolute tour de force, a record full of drama and emotion and pleasure and pain.