For their entire career, The Polyphonic Spree have succeeded not necessarily when they’ve sounded big, but when they’ve been the leader of the pack of the weird. Many of the tracks on Yes, It’s True suggest that the band is thankfully moving back in that direction.

With The Rose... Matmos have created a work that fuses music and concept art, and doesn't sound like a terrible pretentious mess. It's an achievement that deserves your attention.

There are still creases to iron out, but Antiphon marks a significant step as Midlake move on to the next phase of their career.

Hold My Baby emphasises King Princess’ position as one of pop’s most singular talents, but doesn’t drive home the point quite in the way you feel it should. Perhaps that makes it an even more interesting listen.

They don't offer much that's new, but this album is far too enjoyable to squabble over that.

Alive After Death is a record interesting enough to satisfy those with a taste for the transgressively predictable, as long as you don’t scrutinise it too much.

Strange Little Birds from 2016 was a belting return to form for Garbage, and although No Gods No Masters has its moments, it’s not quite at the same level. Mainly written pre-lockdown, it strangely fits the current world probably better than it would have done if released earlier, though.

It's not spectacular but it is a reliable and solid effort. Whether this is a pivotal moment for the genre remains to be seen.

Paddywhack is probably too unassuming and restrained to make any impression on the wider public. That's a shame, for if you can be bothered to seek it out, there are some genuinely gorgeous moments that sound like nothing else out there right now.

Drummer Gianni Honey and bassist Daniel Rumsey create a magnificently grungy smear of grinding fuzz, before Bell’s squalling guitar adds just the right amount of 1950s style terror to proceedings. And there are sufficient quantities of those sort of moments to make this a very fine debut.

It is good to have The Coral back, and while Distance Inbetween may not find them consistently hitting the songwriting heights it does consistently impress with the quality of its musical delivery and the authenticity of James Skelly’s vocals.

So, the jury is still out on Conor Oberst. His loyal fans will be slightly puzzled by the easy going roll of the music but rewarded by several choice lyrical nuggets, while his critics will point out that Dylan had already released Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde On Blonde before recording John Wesley Harding.

The less charitable may call this record a collection of leftovers, in the manner of Radiohead‘s Amnesiac to Kid A. But Anoyo succeeds on its own terms too: the combination of sounds is still captivating, especially recommended for anyone who feels to this day that new age music was underrated.

They are sketches--nothing more, nothing less. But it all changes on the final, aptly-named, track Opulent Decline.

How To Love is an interesting departure for Cooper and one that breaks down some of the barriers Ultimate Painting in particular seemed contained by. You get the feeling, though, that we’re not quite there yet, it’s almost as if this is hinting, teasing even, at a bigger arrival that’s just over the horizon; something worth sticking around for, undoubtedly.

On this outing, greater rewards arrive from a more engaged, active approach to listening, one that helps ensure that nuances and small details are appreciated. It might not ultimately have quite the impact of their earlier work but it still has much to offer, showing them still capable of responding to new creative surroundings and edging forward with small refinements to their sound.

It may not be particuarly original or challenging, but there's enough positive signs here to bode extremely well for the future. The sound of 2008? And beyond, we'd imagine.

Helping along YACHT's approach is a frisson of punk attitude, often expressed in Evans' vocals but also helped by a refreshingly unfussy focus on production.

it. At times, this is probably easier to admire than to actually sit down and enjoy, but it’s an impressive achievement nonetheless.

Overall Dear Annie is pleasant, with other highlights including Mon Amour, Pink Lemonade (mostly for its gorgeously woozy production) and Egyptian Luvr, but it could have benefitted from losing some filler and gaining just a little more dynamism from Rejjie himself.

Even though there are moments that skirt close to self-indulgence--there’s an entire song dedicated to celebrated author Judy Blume which still somehow works, while Bigger On The Inside stops being a heartfelt defence after a while and just turns into a bit of a whine--and you’re left with the impression that a sympathetic editor would do wonders for Palmer, there are still some heart-stopping moments of beauty on this third album.

There’s an effortlessness to their interpretation that stops them from sounding too calculated, though--you get the sense that these are four blokes whose enthusiasm for the grungey alt-rock bands of 20 or so years ago is so great that they can’t stop the influence bleeding into their own music.

At 22 tracks, its formulaic and mechanistic approach begins to wear thin at times--there's just too much going on to properly digest it all--but as a compendium of chart-ready fodder, Nicki has honed in on precisely what works for her with remarkable ease.

Although there are times when they misfire, this is a startling first effort from the band.

There's no pretentions, no concepts, just an exploration of music and Zammuto is starting to write the book of the future once again.

While the rest of the album doesn’t quite live up to the expectation set by its opening salvo, the longest journeys start with a single step. And as the first step in the next chapter of Wolves In The Throne Room’s story, Thrice Woven moves decidedly in the right direction.

While the length is an issue, when Quasi do get it right, the results are up there with some of the best work they have produced over the last two decades.

The album doesn’t take The Orwells to another musical level but, produced by Jim Abbiss (who worked with them previously), it makes for fun listening.