Realisationship might not always come together neatly, but Andrew Hung’s desire to push his own boundaries, whether that’s moving into that lo-fi zone or utilising his vocals, leaves you wondering just where he’ll turn n

Willowbank is utterly charming, shimmering and another step in Yumi Zouma’s quietly fascinating evolution.

If Wolf Parade have spent six years wondering how they can sing about anything at all, it seems as though they’re still wondering. Just this time the quartet turned the mic on as they pondered.

‘You Better Run’, while perfectly adequate, has the aura of ‘pub back room’ to its chugging riffs; it’s fine, but it’s largely filler. In general though, As You Were is almost certainly the best thing Liam’s offered us since he parted ways with his big bro.

Kudos for another reinvention, but the best version of Kele probably sits nearer the middle of the spectrum.

On the likes of ‘Enough,’ the layers of electronica and muffled beats become oddly oppressive, competing against her--and winning the battle. It’s in moments like this where Take Me Apart proves to be frustrating. When it’s at its best though, it’s an album that invites the listener to do just what its title invites.

Jersey Devil comes with a real sense of sharp focus; cleverly worked melodies and handsomely crafted choruses come to the fore, pushing the woozy soundscapes to the back.

Citizen haven’t mellowed per se, the emotion on ‘As You Please’ is as grand and raw as ever, but they have refined their delivery, and their latest album manages not to shortchange that underlying sentiment while expanding their sonic palette.

Desire’s best moments arrive when there’s a genuine attempt to create a bit of atmosphere--the cool strut of ‘Spotlights’ is a rare bright point. Everything else, though, has been done better elsewhere, and recently, too.

It’s not an immediate album, but give a little time for the scattershot approach to sink in and moments of genius gradually reveal themselves.

It touches the heart and head with its examinations of love, lust and desire, and while it’s sometimes still a challenging listen, it’s easy to indulge in.

A dystopian, focused pessimism that sounds (unfortunately) exactly like the world outside, but doesn’t sound quite like another band on the planet. A perfect soundtrack to nagging doubts and creeping realisations.

There’s no difficult second album syndrome here. Visions Of A Life is a gorgeously twisted beast that keeps Wolf Alice on the path to being Britain’s best band.

Five albums in and The Horrors have obviously found a new lease of life. This V is for victorious.

Ultimately, it feels as if she’s still waiting for her words and her sound to match up, but what we’ve got in the meantime is an intriguingly personal record.

Strange Peace is more--more intense, more melodic, more brutal, more confident.

Stranger in the Alps is as accomplished a solo debut as you’ll hear all year--a quietly devastating listen worthy of Phoebe Bridgers’ obvious influences.

Tthey continually hit the sweet spot between the dance floor and sweaty indie venue. Songs overflow with ideas and, as the title suggests, they manage to plot a path through them all, finding something poetic amid all the excess.

V will go down a storm with committed Bronx fans, but is curiously subdued in places--which, in the current climate, feels like a little bit of an opportunity missed.

An album without an obvious theme or concept it may be, but somehow, it’s still quintessentially The Killers. It may not be the all-out stadium epic we’ve come to expect from the band but it’s still wonderful (wonderful).

Handling pop punch with the same rightful care as punk rebellion, Sløtface aren’t indebted to any of their touchstones. Instead they’re mashing them to new, distinctive effect.

Foo Fighters’ ninth is, then, more interesting than one might’ve expected.

Forget the fact that even at its best moments the album still kind of sounds like a RATM reunion minus Zack de la Rocha, the biggest issue with ‘Prophets Of Rage’ is that it’s not as radical as it thinks it is. Is it competent and confident, energised and engaging? Sure. But there’s nothing new here.

This occasional, kind of ironic lack of restraint makes some of the blackened themes of Choir of the Mind even more oddly oppressive, even if Emily’s melodies are often spacious and airy. When it gets its balance perfectly poised though, it’s an album that can be engaging and emotionally-charged.

Each track could essentially be classified under a different genre, yet there’s a unifying atmosphere throughout--a kind of balmy warmth to the production that allows the duo’s treasure trove of ideas to knit together in one harmonious package.

Nick would do better to stick to his signature rippling guitar on the ethereal ‘Infinite Trees’, the quietly sensual ‘Lullaby’, or, best yet, the charming ‘Remembering’, which chugs along with a jolty percussive joy.

Heavy with feeling throughout, it makes for a record that’s often a tough listen. But for cathartically allowing herself to tackle life’s most difficult subjects, you’ve got to applaud her.

Just as unique as that now-classic debut, Alvvays have inadvertently gotten their wish all the same. They’ve wound up in a league of their own.