Some Rap Songs may be a brief exercise, but its ambition and the--largely successful--execution of its ideas demonstrate that the enigmatic Earl is as fascinating as ever.

On the evidence of this impressive and winningly authentic second album, Cara is increasingly unforgettable.

As the lovelorn ‘From Far Away’ floats by, desolate and broken, haunted by the ghosts of art-rock guitars and phantom electronics, it’s clear that Jeff Tweedy still isn’t comfortable on well-trodden roads and that Warm has moments that upend Americana as beautifully as ‘Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’ did with US indie rock. One to let simmer.

Endlessly fun, stuffed full of brilliantly left-field production and ear-worm choruses.

A magpie pop masterpiece that could only be made right now and right here. And for every stupid joke you’ve heard about avocados and house prices and safe spaces and jazz hands, this is a piece of art that shows another side to a generation, one of achievement, wit and humanity in the most confusing of times.

He’s writing about his time in hospital (‘Hospital!), his new home (from ‘Good Morning Berlin’: “Hipsters with beards eating falafel / Wander these streets like herds of cattle”) and desire to remain relevant in his forties (the title track’s indie shuffle). Well, fine, but such navel-gazing offers us little reason to love his album.

LM5 is the culmination of the band’s growth over the past seven year. Yes it may sometimes musically miss the mark; but with its strong and relevant message it’s something of a milestone for the band.

Post-mainstream breakthrough, Oxnard is a deft dissection of the fallout, just as free-ranging and hopeful as you’d imagine.

There are standout moments--the aforementioned ‘Beloved’, the full-hearted chorus of lead single ‘Guiding Light’, the delicate tinkle of piano underpinned by a dog barking in the distance on ‘October Skies’--but you must sift through these sprawling 14 tracks to find them.

The heavier moments refuse to act as a sledegehammer of alt-rock pastiche, which this record could so easily have been. Instead, it’s a showcase of songcraft that’s allowed to breathe and reveal itself. Bring on volume two. The dream lives on.

Ruminations on a post-Brexit nation from a bunch of middle-aged musicians is, perhaps, less essential than it seems to deem itself, but there are probing thoughts and moments to make it worth sticking with.

More often than not Origins falls flat, with insipid choruses and melodramatic refrains. Big, bold and a little bit naff, this is another bread and butter album from a mindbogglingly huge group.

This is a brilliant--and brilliantly brutal--collection; pulsing dance music that, for all its heaviness and techno sensibilities, retains a glimmer of pop accessibility because it’s so well pieced together and just so much fucking fun. Viva The Prodigy.

The Lover Chanting EP is, admittedly, inoffensive and low-risk. However, it’s a solid enough attempt at breaking away from the ‘band that does collaborations’ tag.

The sombre project is blistered and broken in all the right ways. Peep’s legacy of making music that has no purpose other than making itself felt is the glue that holds this sprawling 13-track album together.

Even aside from the tragedy that frames its arrival, though, it stands up as Architects’ very best album. ... Architects have emerged more powerful than ever--building on Tom’s legacy, rather than riding on its coattails. It’s a wonder to behold.

Yes, this is still Muse, but here they’re trying to be something else--well, everything else. They are avatars in a ridiculous simulation of teenage nerdery, inviting you to steal away from the nightmare, and into an electric dream.

While Bought to Rot might not possess the focused tenacity of Against Me!’s latest record, ‘Shape Shift With Me’, it’s a varied, meandering album that roams freely across multiple genres.

It may not bother the charts in quite the same way as ‘Slide’ did, but it’s more than enough to remind us that we should dismiss Takeoff, the solo artist, at our peril.

Each idea is significantly different from the last and this latest album is an immersive look at the grizzly realities of millions.

Throughout Empress, an eight-track record billed somewhat mysteriously as a “project”, she states her worth over warm, ‘90s-influenced R&B sounds.

Boygenius’ lyrics are so strong, you could close your eyes and skip to any point of any song and find yourself being wowed in one way or another.

It’s a rare feat for an album to paint a picture that’s broad but intimate at the same time, but Folick has done it here. Her voice, songwriting and ascent are unstoppable; one would do best not to ignore her.

They’re not reinventing the wheel, but pulling the Harley out of the ditch.

Saturn is full of beautiful, intricately unique songs that could never be imitated.

Though the pain she’s exploring here is less immediate and stinging than the thwack of being screwed over, it’s explored just as expertly.

With a swelling back catalogue, it’s becoming increasingly clear what does and doesn’t work for Yachty’s solo output: skippable braggadocious freestyles? No. Endearing and experimental takes on hip-hop that demonstrate his more individualistic approach to being a major rap artist? Yes please.

Parcels have taken control of their destiny with a project that’s well-thought out and engaging from start-to-finish. It feels both timely and from a different era--a very rare feat.