These five Dublin lads prove their talent for painting in far more colours than just blacks and greys, and Fontaines D.C. have proved their worth as one of guitar music’s most essential new voices.

No Geography is another leap forward for the pair--it embraces new avenues of discovery and nods to the wider world, while having the feel of a victory lap and retrospective.

This is a simple collection of woozy slow-jams and blissed-out recollections (a step back from the hip-hop stylings of ‘Oxnard’, which wrong-footed some fans).

Despite some positives, Gesaffelstein isn’t able to recreate past glories, nor advance on them--or even successfully reinvent himself. By the end of it, you’re mostly left feeling confused and underwhelmed.

Gone are the fizzy sun-drenched hooks and pint-chucking riffs, and in their place are mawkish vocals, melodramatic breaks and dreary lyrics.

With this jumble of wordplay and hooky songwriting, they’re unmistakably on fighting form.

Pierce’s creative and personal rebirth are evident throughout, but a return to the trappings of earlier records makes for a relatively limp second half. ... Overall, though, The Drums sound closer to what Pierce had envisioned all those years ago.

They seem driven by the joy of making music great again. It won’t change the world, but record is a wonderful world all of their own.

By eschewing the feel-good fakery of some of their peers, they’ve cracked something far more unifying than meaningless, posi-punk platitudes.

Honesty is often lost in overproduction, both in the music and in his lyricism. It is listenable, summery and occasionally thought-provoking, but tired in its laboured pushes for emotional sincerity.

This is a beautiful album, informed as much her bold experimental music as by her golden age pop forebears. The record ends where it began, but Natalie Mering continues to push tirelessly and boldly ahead.

The production is slicker, the songwriting more considered, and the statement more solidified. Peppered with spoken-word interludes, Cashwan-Pratt laying himself bare like never before, Dog Whistle is a manifesto for everything Show Me The Body’s early days promised.

The Seduction Of Kansas is a fun, dancey funk-punk record that benefits from Congleton’s lightness of touch, proof that you can step outside your comfort zone and maintain your sense of self.

It’s enjoyable and familiar, but retains Billie’s disruptive streak. It’s a brave and resounding first step for an artist with bags of potential and over the next decade, you’ll no doubt see popular music scrabbling to try and replicate what this album does on every level.

On this timeless record, Gaye consistently sparks joy even though he’s scared about the future, and its 2019 release is chance for a whole new generation of listeners to connect with the legendary singer. It’s a reminder of an era in which our pop stars spoke from the heart, unafraid of losing a million-dollar endorsement, more concerned with uplifting their people.

Silver Tongues picks up exactly where they left off: back on top as one of Britain’s most thrilling rising bands.

A slow slog through a murky alternate dimension, from a band who made their name on vibrancy and experimentation, Inside The Rose is frustratingly lacking in both.

Filled with crunchy, complex tunes that elegantly interweave a host of unusual influences, Miss Universe is an impressive and bold record.

Significant Changes is at once both ludicrously fun and inquisitive, knowing exactly when to fuse Jayda G’s learnings and passions into music that’s, quite clearly, full of heart and wisdom.

On her fourth solo record, Jenny Lewis skewers all of these tensions with astonishing ease. It’s up there with her greatest work to date.

Unafraid to experiment amongst all the traditionalist, lovelorn expression, the American Football of 2019 is a record both classic in intonation, and future-facing in intent. No longer a band of nostalgia bangers, American Football are back at the top of the pile.

Ultimately, comeback albums are about consolidation rather than reinvention, and there’s just enough of the old ‘Smart’ magic here to satisfy the retro crowds. But there’s little sign of a route to relevance, and that’s not something to sleep on.

Ex Hex’s sound is so distinctive that it’s also very tough to escape, but luckily Mary Timony, Betsy Wright and Laura Harris avoid stumbling into the trap of picking up where they left off. As it happens, It’s Real is a bundle of collaborative fun instead.

Lyrically, this is the best Rose has ever been. Poignant, affecting and candid, at times it’s spectacular. Yet the music fails to reach the same heights, resulting in a mismatched record.

The album’s inner momentum offsets any occasional wrong direction.

You’ll love it, or you’ll hate it, you’ll have no idea what’s going on, but revel in the fact that a debut like this is allowed to exist.

Gratitude shows that he’s a musician who, almost a decade into his career, still has much to say--and a great deal to work out on record.

American Love Call is a timeless, optimistic listen in a time of peril one that now, and in the future, can confidently be referred to as a truly great American soul record.