It’s rare for a rock record to feel this exciting, especially coming from a band seven albums deep and, y’know, from Surrey, but every track ‘SUCKAPUNCH’ feels inspired in some way.

Here’s your prescribed dose of reality with an unmistakable and intoxicating Sleaford Mods flavour. The extraordinary ‘Spare Ribs’ is graffiti on a concrete wall; there’s no manifesto, no easy answers and nowhere to hide.

Initially, you might be disappointed to have waited two years for what at first sounds like an underworked collection of throwaways. In places, though, the record rewards repeat listens. ... But there’s no getting away from the fact that at 24 tracks long, there’s not a lot of variety on ‘Whole Lotta Red’, and the biggest take away here is perhaps that perennial rap fan favourite: less is most definitely more.

‘Welfare Jazz’ sees them sidestep any so-called second album slump. There’s no huge reinvention of sound – except for some country-ish sounds, typified by the Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn-style call-and-answer ‘In Spite Of Ourselves’, a punk hoedown with Amyl and the Sniffers‘ Amy Taylor – but a definite reinvention of mindset.

Irrespective of the permanently changed world it’s now entering, Park Hye Jin’s second solo release demonstrates her confidence to create free from the confines of categorisation.

Along with its album-ending coda, it helps to shroud the album in a rootsy, pastoral intimacy fitting for the times and akin to (although significantly meatier than) ‘McCartney’. In between, as you’d expect from a legend who’s been pushing his electronic boundaries on recent albums such as ‘2018’s ‘Egypt Station’, Sir Paul approaches the record with the same adventuring spirit as he did ‘McCartney II.’

Kid Cudi gives us every part of himself, laying out his insecurities and inner demons in the hope that it might help someone else, his words etched into a vivid backdrop of intoxicating melodies and palatial riffs. No one does mood music quite like Cudi.

If ‘Folklore’ is an introspective, romantic older sister, ‘Evermore’ is the freewheeling younger sibling. ‘Folklore’ was Swift’s masterful songwriting spun through a very specific sonic palette; ‘Evermore’ feels looser, with more experimentation, charm and musical shades at play. The new album reaps the rewards the stylistic leap of faith that ‘Folklore’ represented, pushing the boundaries of that sonic palette further still.

After all these years, the songs still stand up, even in a different dimension. ‘Black Stallion’ can either be listened to as the twisted inner monologue of a masterpiece, or a standalone rattling gun of gnarly and weird electronica.

The diversity of guest musicians, expertly woven music and compositional strength of the tracks on offer here add up to a journey well worth taking. ‘We Will Always Love You’ completes The Avalanches’ 20-year triptych on a hopeful note.

‘ALIAS’ proves that Shygirl is in full control of her artistic vision no matter the scale.

The band operate in the same art-pop playground as bands like alt-J and Field Music, with guitars popping and chiming over Andrew Thompson and Bryn Jenkins’ rhythms, only taking a moment to change the pace for tracks like ‘Out to Get You’, with its prettily plucked pastoral guitar strings and close, breathy vocals, and ‘Smorgasbord’, which makes sparing use of anguished, weeping piano notes.

Backed up by producer 30 Roc, Big Papito and Boi-1da, this 15 -rack album is sometimes ‘big’ and sometimes ‘clever’, but occasionally goes awry.

Taking everything that’s brilliant about Yungblud and amplifying it, album two is Harrison at his most extreme. It’s exactly where he belongs, too. Yungblud’s never seemed more inspiring or vital as he proves himself as one of the most important rock stars around. ‘weird!’ really is wonderful.

‘Odin’s Raven Magic’s is built on incredibly specific foundations – the particulars of Norse Mythology and medieval Scandinavian poetry is certainly niche – so key aspects feel lost in translation without a hefty visual component or matching blurb. It feels less like conventional album, and more like a live piece immortalised on record.

While Nasty’s catalogue has found her focused on pushing to the extremities of self-expression – baking rock, screamo and punk directly into her rap with reckless abandon – with this record she flexes her chops as an artist with mainstream appeal.

There are some bangers that you’ll know, such as ‘Manic Monday’, which was written by Prince for The Bangles, whose singer Susanna Hoffs lends some warm guitar and vocals to match Armstrong’s silky sentimental side. It’s the perfect soundtrack to lazily whiling away the monotony of quarantine.

Plastic Hearts finds the pop-star-turned-rock-star going hell for leather – and when Miley Cyrus is at full throttle, it’s an absolute blast. Life has imitated art, and she’s become her very own Ashley O.

Language barrier or not, it’s a divine second album.

For the most part, the songs furrow a similar path throughout the 20 tracks and, unlike most double albums, which are either loaded with fillers or come in two bloated parts, ‘CYR’ feels like a single complete record crammed full of pop anthems. Pumpkin detractors may well hate this record’s simplicity, and they’d be right to criticise it for sounding same-y to a point. But there’s no denying Corgan’s ability to craft a tune.

Rarely does a remix EP recalibrate songs so thoroughly while maintaining every inch of their magic, but we should expect the unexpected from Phoebe Bridgers by now.

Just as ‘BE’ cycles through the various ever-changing moods the pandemic has made a constant in our lives, it’s also finds the band constantly moving between genres, each attempt a triumph.

Opener ‘Shots Fired’ is a signal that Megan is not messing around. ... Yet it’s not long before she returns to the salacious songs that we all love Megan Thee Stallion for. ... For all the sex positivity and club-ready anthems, though, there are glimpses of that tone was first introduced with ‘Shots Fired.’

No doubt many of these songs will go on to be fan favourites, but while it’s not a step backwards, it certainly is a step sideways for a band who until now have been in perpetual motion.

The Cribs’ best album in 11 years.

Intimate and inventive, it’s a beautiful exercise – and one that could provide a bridge between last year’s ‘Any Human Friend’ and the musician’s planned return to melancholic material on her next original work. For now, though, she’s given us a rich new world burrow into, filled with soothing familiarity but brimming with the excitement of the new.

Seriously brilliant stuff. ‘Send Them To Coventry’ promises that Salieu is unbelievably gifted with a ceiling nowhere in sight. He carries the entire mixtape with his singular voice oscillating between conventional rap flows, dancehall toasts and ice-cold venomous lyrics.

This is an ambitious, adventurous feat that shows off Benee’s pop-hook panache and genre-bending range.