Jacob’s tender touch on themes of fantasy, dreams and love feels earned across ‘In Limerence’, as if repairing themself via songwriting rather than declaring experiences from a distance. This transparency, in turn, is worth its weight in gold.

caroline’s all-embracing post-rock and folk sensibilities on ‘caroline 2’ make for a grand experience from the off.

It’s still animated and dimensional, all existing under a warm ‘70s-to-’80s, folk-meets-synth-pop lens, which feels to be a natural direction for her sound to have taken

In all, ‘Evangelic Girl is a Gun’ is a flex of pop ingenuity.

There is still room for what feels like his natural habitat - the wistful ‘Frozen Oranges’ is classic, reflective Berninger - but in the main, this is the sound of him really beginning to stretch his legs as a solo artist.

An elegant, engrossing return, that marries its creators’ love of both industrial and ecclesiastical aesthetics while remaining accessible and emotionally easy to grasp. Welcome back.

Even in the album’s earnest moments, where the band uncover substance beneath their snarky self-awareness, they still manage to slide in a razor-sharp critique or two.

The record’s most straightforward track, the Doja-Cat-esque ‘On The Low’, which highlights how modern hyperpop-trap is, at its best, Rico Nasty-indebted; or the artsy punk of ‘Crash’, which feels like a sibling to present-day 070 Shake alt-pop. ‘LETHAL’, firmly reasserting the Rico Nasty legacy, is an alluring feat for the US rapper that feels just as trendy as it is against the grain.

Here, he does indeed examine music’s most ubiquitous theme - namely, the deeply personal yet universal anguish of matters of the heart - but elevates it such that even the most quotidian of details becomes filmic.

A textured tapestry of overwhelm that’s as desperate as it is defiant. She employs a string section across much of the record (a return to the expansiveness of 2018’s ‘Transangelic Exodus’), and yet also dabbles in sampling for the first time; with its skittish drums, eulogic cello, and haunting vocals, ‘You Mustn’t Show Weakness’ is the potent pinnacle of this new frontier. Lyrically, too, ‘Goodbye Small Head’ is some of her finest work.

PUP leap and bound through fields of melancholy, finding balance between bittersweet lyrical tales, upbeat pop-punk foundations, and lingering emo influences. Tracks like ‘Hallways’ and ‘Best Revenge’ play with atypical nuances where elements of pop and indie rock make the genre - which can often feel stale - fresh.

An album that has clearly been constructed with immense care, ‘Animaru’ makes Mei’s supreme efforts crystal clear.

The slow crawl of ‘Acid Rain’ and closer ‘Baton’ offer tender moments of relief on an electrifying second record on which Model/Actriz utilise chaos to amplify moments of vulnerability.

‘Felt Better Alive’ isn’t going for high art, he’s not looking to create another masterpiece, as evident in the nursery rhyme stomp of ‘Out of Tune Balloon’ and ‘Fingee’, a song that can be best described as Chas n Dave-meets-Lankum that barely lasts two minutes. But this is the sound of one of rock’s most enduring survivors exhaling and having fun, which is ultimately all that matters.

‘Fancy That’ scratches just about every nostalgic itch her listeners might have, all while remaining on the pulse of what’s next.

The immediacy of the comparably short and sharp first half (at least in track number alone) gives way to a sprawling crescendo of epics – not least the near-19 minute ‘Planet Desperation’; a track as camp as it is masterful, with more than a gentle nod to the 1960s and ‘70s.

It’s an album that’s far less direct than her debut, and more thoughtful.

‘Sunshine Song’ and its repetitive refrain is just too sugary sweet, even with the whack of distortion added towards its close - but on the whole, ‘The Prize’ is a warm exploration of life’s intimacies that places female friendship at the centre of this pair’s universe.

Sharp, vivid songwriting is central to Samia’s craft, and with ‘Bloodless’, her superpower lies in her curiosity for the unknown, and an ability to turn herself inside out, facing the raw, uncomfortable, and deeply human parts of herself head on.

‘Mortal Primetime’ doesn’t hold your hand or ease you into its sonic shifts. Instead, Sunflower Bean embrace this constant reinvention head-on with a record that only years of experience and an unshakable bond could produce.

Taylor’s rapturous explorations of womanhood are torn through the mundanity of growing older, the depressive nature of Groundhog Day-normality and the catharsis of splitting even further as age makes concrete her contradictions. Across this - her most concentrated and burning record - Taylor’s hardened Sheffield-isms float through the tearjerker soul of a thousand women.

Naturally, one would not expect a band whose breakthrough consisted of a list of physical activities spouted over rumbling post-punk to view ‘switching things up’ in an academic way, but the – whisper it – whimsy that runs through ‘viagr aboys’ is plenty to widen audiences’ expectations of the group.

Julien Baker and TORRES are both immersive, insightful songwriters in their own right; together, their partnership is a resounding testament to resilience and tentative hope.

He still remains guided by the same restless and creatively unburdened spirit that has defined TV on the Radio. However, it is evident that ‘Thee Black Boltz’ is Tunde Adebimpe’s storm to weather, his vision unfiltered with a clarity that makes the collection strikingly his own.

It is a heady and often confounding listen and, for many, will be too drastic a departure from his normal territory, or too diffuse and hectic a set of ideas. What ‘Song of the Earth’ can’t be faulted for, though, is a lack of ambition.

The result is an album that feels expansive and unshackled, while still boasting a gnarly punk heart. Love it or hate it, one thing’s clear here: this band’s ambitions are soaring skyward.

The apology, regret and period of reconnection is brief and pained, and what follows soars. Less irregular than before, Justin’s redemption is soulful, almost spiritual in its delivery. .... It’s a huge leap forward from the introverted brooding of ‘For Emma…’, and a showcase of a man not just 20 years older, but wiser.

They pair their trademark hard-and-soft contrast – a sound which, in hindsight, could be deemed proto-hyperpop – with a litany of references that bring to mind Dua Lipa’s concept of ‘Future Nostalgia’, or a reverse Back To The Future Part II, in which Alexis and bandmate Derek Miller present an imagined late-21st Century past via a vivid 2025 lens.