Memory Streams is both recognisable as a piece of work from the authors of their first four albums, but manages not to sound exactly like any of them. Instead it confirms them as increasingly assured musicians, carrying forward their first principles and playing like their lives depend on it.

There might be more anger, darkness and politics on this album but Giants Of All Sizes shows they are still fundamentally one of the best bands around at offering consolation and comfort when the surrounding turbulence threatens to get too much.

The feelings of isolation that Lanegan has channeled into his music and lyrics are beautifully served by the influences that he’s using, and the result is an album that feels both current and historical. Most importantly, it’s another absolute masterclass crammed with songs that drill their way into your head and stay there.

Yes, it can be painful, but there’s a beautiful catharsis contained within Ghosteen that makes it one of the most essential records of recent times – a lifejacket for anyone surfing that dreadful wave of grief.

There’s still a distinct Penguin Cafe magic to Handfuls Of Night. The music here won’t come as a surprise to people familiar with their increasingly tightly managed aesthetic but it still provides a wonderfully calming sanctuary to temporarily get lost in.

As the album progresses the grooves get more pronounced, as though the night’s movement is getting into gear.

This collection shows the old tricks have served them brilliantly so far, and The Brighter The Light works as it says it will, leaving us with a lasting high.

It’s a real skill to make what is essentially pop music that also manages to combine depth in lyrics and cheerful tunes, and on this album Frankie Cosmos absolutely excel.

Free is not as lyrically emotionally resonating as Blackstar but it evokes similar feelings. The reason that it doesn’t fully pack the same punch is that there is a sense that he cannot fully commit. It is a solid album, but just leaves you wondering slightly what could have been.

DSVII pulls off what it sets out to accomplish with aplomb: it is a pleasant album full of lush instrumentation and suites of sound that are gently evocative. If at times the record feels a little too safe, this feeling is punctured before long by an irresistibly cute melody or a chord sequence that resolves in just the right way, and the listener is drawn back into the pastel world that M83 create here.

This is an album of largely superfluous material, made only to exorcise some creativity.

This is a talent to watch, The Return laying down an impressive statement of intent, a marker of Sampa The Great’s potential. This will surely grow with subsequent releases, and it is exciting to think of where she could go next.

These worries are dressed with music at peace with itself and its surroundings, making as much resourceful use of digital and electronic possibilities in an intimate studio setting as previous album Frontier Man did with an orchestra.

This is peak Metronomy, Mount and his charges at the top of the game as they move with pop music’s ever-evolving sound.

The muted, lo-fi quasi-psychedelia of his early work has largely been replaced by mellow, contented songs and while it may take a couple of plays to fully establish itself it’s very much worth investing time in. Sonically, it has a notable consistency and poise with the quirkiness of his early albums now having given way to more conventional approaches.

These songs might not be his most immediate, but House Of Sugar, it rewards repeated listening as these songs start to reveal their hidden depths with every listen. Whether its ever possibly to get right to the bottom of them is another matter, but really, it’s the mystery of them that makes them so appealing.

By this point, she’s probably preaching to the converted, and won’t attract anyone previously immune to the Del Rey charm – yet this is probably her finest record since Born To Die, and this new partnership with Antonoff ensures that her next move will much anticipated.

At times, it’s so honest that you may feel like you’re prying into someone’s diary, but it will be a major surprise if this funny, clever, heartbreaking record isn’t nestling at the top of the Album Of The Year polls come December.

Charli is not the perfect pop album, nor is it a fully developed manifesto for where pop could go, but it is a collection of enjoyable, interesting tracks that don’t sound completely alien, but also don’t sound like anyone involved is selling out.

No matter how classy, considered or stylish the album is, it’s nothing more than a curio, designed for those fans that hang on her every word.

It’s an album that screams out for an editor, but when it hits the right notes, it demonstrates just why Taylor Swift is one of the biggest pop stars in the world.

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.

Lost Girls is hardly uncharted territory, yet Khan manages to embolden it with her canny narrative, some truly beautiful sonic touches and her trademark gorgeous harmonies.

This album is an acquired taste that may struggle to win a larger audience. If you’re a Grumbling Fur fan, though, you might just like this effort more than any of his other solo collections.

When the feedback and distortion doesn’t obscure the words, it’s clear that Twelve Nudes contains some of Furman’s finest lyrics yet.

This album is a true and cathartic celebration of music and features some of the most treasured artists and the most hopeful future prospects. It’s all here and its glorious.

These aren’t bad song ideas per se, but the record as a whole becomes cloying through an overload of syrupy chords and Common stuck on motivational speaker mode.