Stripped back tracks, smart beats, punchy bass, and Williamson’s dextrous barked delivery are all in place, and it seems that the band are in their dis/comfort zone.

Exploring increasingly adventurous songwriting terrains and expanding their studio capabilities whilst managing to retain some of the fire that once sparked up their engines, Iceage have delivered another tour de force.

For now, this is a hypnotic, well executed, if not altogether thrilling collection.

Shifting moods and voices effortlessly, Harding is an often technically astonishing performer, and Party is a work of quiet power. An inviting, captivating darkness.

Best listened to in one sitting, the story draws you in with its characterisation and humour, at times outdated but always tuneful. As is the way with Squeeze, there are fistfuls of memorable lyrical vignettes.

In short, every song is an earworm, and Lianne La Havas’ third album is haunting in the way only inspiring music can claim to be; a beautiful ghost to soundtrack your life to. ... Truly captivating.

At just eight tracks and a 30 minute running time, it does feel a bit slight at times. Yet that’s a minor quibble: much of Pinball Wanderer shows just what Bell can produce when he’s given a rare spotlight.

World On The Ground has an accessibility and lucidity that should see Jarosz win new fans. This is a highly accomplished outing by an artist very much in the ascendancy.

The combination of strict process and softer emotion makes for a fascinating album. The Hill, The Light, The Ghost is clearly the result of years of tender loving care, and its ink appears to be only just drying thanks to the instinctive, organic approach.

By the time we reach closing track Who Brings Me the journey through the cloudscape is complete, sealing an experience that is equal parts head and heart music. It’s an absorbing, cohesive listen that casts fresh light on familiar structures and melds them into new and appealing shapes.

Even when the pace becomes more middling and unified towards the end of the album, there’s still a sense of a band taking risks and exploring sound.

It’s Billy Nomates’ best album to date, and testimony to the fact that whatever doesn’t kill you does indeed make you stronger.

Despite the intro being borrowed from the trailer to American Gangster it essentially reclaims the genre Shawn Carter helped to pioneer from the studio gangstas and plastic pimps that hip-pop is swamped with.

More melancholic than mechanical, Severant is a testament to the strength of the human imagination.

Island isn’t an album that provides any easy hits – it’s more of a record to luxuriate in and discover its charms gradually. Lockdown conditions mean that it’s easier than ever to immerse yourself in this grandiose music, and those that do will find much to lose themselves in.

There’s too much spirit in this cocktail for the mixer to spoil it.

In sum, How To Stop Your Brain In An Accident cements Future Of The Left as unique.

For all the sonic invention which they usually display, it’s the raw emotion and sadness on Two Ribbons which make this Let’s Eat Grandma’s finest album yet.

Renegade is lots of fun, even if it’sa few tracks short of its true potential.

A significant part of The Show’s appeal is down to Horan’s quiet charm – he always sounded far more convincing in his low-key guitar-based tunes than, for example, Liam Payne in his perplexing attempts at club bangers.

Indeed, if you are looking for surprises then you won't find many. As well as stellar production, another Fagen trademark is his willingness, even necessity, for songs to run their natural course.

It's a testament to their talent that by their seventh album they're still continuing to develop and reinvent themselves.

Primrose Green may not be the most original of statements, but it definitely amounts to more than the sum of its parts and there is the lingering impression that Walker is only just getting started.

Spellbinding debut album, its vivid subject matter dealing with depression, sexuality, prejudice and matters of the heart with an uplifting old-school feel complemented by celestial vocals.

Despite the occasional hippy-dippyness, there is an elegance to Hazlewood's work.

At only eight tracks long, Debris never overstays its welcome – in fact, you immediately want to go back and experience it again, which is a pretty impressive feat for a record so steeped in melancholy and fragility.

While it doesn’t quite have the instantly addictive quality that Pupul’s work with Charlotte Adigéry does, this is still a rich, multi-layered work that serves as both a fine tribute to Pupul’s mother and a compelling journey of grief, loss and the effects of ancestry.

It has the feel of a transitional record; having proved to himself that it’s possible to pair up heartfelt songs with sometimes incongruous music, perhaps Lekman will hone this concept further in his future work.