This serves as an honest, vulnerable, and occasionally brutal reminder of what Tegan and Sara have always been best at.

Though ‘fun’ isn’t necessarily the first adjective that comes to mind taking stock of these finished covers, it’s evident that Angel Olsen had plenty of it delving into the emotive guts of each song. At times you miss the cheese of the originals, but this is a solid concept, extremely well-executed.

This year’s first great pop record bowls in with a rapturous celebration of the genre's rebellious, trashy potential (and a bottle of champagne and a pocketful of pills to boot).

There are plenty of hooks here, but nothing to make a festival tent bounce like ‘Boogie’ or ‘Gold’ can. It’s a small criticism, though, on an album that resets Brockhampton’s compass and sees them straying away from the danger of implosion that ‘Iridescence’ seemed to suggest.

Stripped to the bare bones of her soul and the sentiment, her truth shines--and there’s a beauty in that. The only thing holding it back is a lack of risk, but there’s still so much comfort in the familiar.

A strange, lovely trip.

Bahdeni Nami isn’t a bad record, exactly, but it’s not quite the best place to crack into Souleyman’s catalogue (which, if you believe estimates, stretches to a mindboggling 500 recordings).

There's little on PSB's album that matches the big twizzly dunce-hatted glory of their 'Very' peak. [20 May 2006, p.33]

When it works, as on 'Let Them Talk', it's a mongrel-pop joy. When it doesn't, as on the overloaded 'Venison Fingers', it's a mess.

There's a certain lack of substance throughout the album which isn't fully covered up by Rose's elegant stoner shimmying.

'Driving Rain' is supposed to be raw, spontaneous and unpolished, when in fact it's perfectly pleasant, unable to resist the McCartney default modes of jauntiness and sentimentality.

An understated classic: a triumph of delicacy over decibels. [19 Jun 2004, p.56]

Even if it gets a bit bedroom experimentalist, POS is Buck 65 with balls, and has more ideas and soul in one cut than an entire Fiddy wet shit.

Wall Of Arms sounds mostly effortless and unstudied.

There's a smorgasbord of top tunes here.

All in all, this isn't an album you can listlessly slam on to get yourself ready for a night out, but it is a satisfyingly rich project.

JBM’s electronically tempered woodsman folk is a blissfully eerie, emotional punch to the guts.

Elegant and unusual, this is a gem.

For her less conventional-sounding follow-up, she and producer Prince Fatty have beefed up the basslines, giving her tropical pop songs a dubby atmosphere.

While the band's long-standing interest in songs about monsters, vampires and zombies is absent, Fair's yelps of enthusiasm and lightning-strike guitar could wake the dead.

Slay-Z is a blast. What sets Banks apart from her peers is her ability to bounce effortlessly between genres.

Interspersed throughout are dark, ambient instrumentals ‘Machine Room’, ‘Aluminum’, ‘Waiting Room’ and ‘Voltage’. This adds an extra layer of claustrophobia and menace, but also feels like the band are padding out a very good eight-track album into 12 songs. Still that’s a minor quibble – as ‘Container’ is a masterful statement of intent destined straight for the top of your lock-down dance party playlist.

‘Love + Light’ feels like it soundtracks your entire night out – from your first steps into the club to arriving home after hours of raving.

Tinny edges became velvet borders, vintage synths took on new wave flavours and plush theatricality beckoned. ‘Host’, however, marks their emergence from their pupae stage.

‘CMFT’ isn’t the most profound or intense album Taylor has put his hand to, but it’s certainly the most fun. He sounds in love with life, a man finally free of his darkness.

It’s light and transcendent, but also grounded and assured of itself even in its most vulnerable moments.

Fans of Maltese’s typically lucid approach may find this impressionism frustrating, but it gradually builds an effective picture of fear. Here, his sense of scale is more nuanced and outward-facing than ever before, and in turn, Maltese’s writing will continue to become all the more captivating for it.

It remains to be seen whether Do Nothing can use the solid foundations of ‘Snake Sideways’ as a launching pad to ascend to the giddy heights of their initial promise.