Loney, Noir is a beautiful serving of melancholia, and one of the most interesting and fully realised home recordings I’ve heard in a long time.

Let's Wrestle has developed a studied, wide-ranging brute that embraces their oddball wit to a greater degree.

It does have some darker moments, but this is a record that is fun, invigorating and ultimately very catchy.

European Heartbreak is charming, clever and quietly confident. If the world really is about to fall apart, then Amber Arcades has produced something that is more than a worthwhile distraction.

Why Bonnie doesn't break its established mold, but it does sustain an element of surprise throughout that bodes well for whatever comes next.

Daughter seem trapped within the confines of their influences.

What is clear is that the Arctic Monkeys of 2011 have produced, probably by a significant margin, the best British Rock 'n' Roll album you will hear this year, and on top of that there's the comforting sense that Suck It And See will only age well.

It's in how she alters her ghostly, choral-like voice that she's able to elevate her entire environment.

Fortunately, his two other pieces on the record, Mallet Quartet, and Dance Patterns are nothing short of the flowery style that make Reich's music so rich. WTC 9/11, on the other hand, just sounds muddy.

What's most important is that the album marks her out as a talent to watch, more than able of holding her own against such forebears and, in turning in work as simple yet creepily perfect as Homeopathic or Twin Song, proves that she's more than worthy of our love in her own right.

The songs are consistently decent, even if they don’t have the edge and the energy of their Comfort sisters, but the vast majority are ultimately forgettable.

Boarding House Reach isn’t the easiest of listens, and at times sounds like an over-excited White has just pressed 'record' and let his absurdity run amok. However, its strong moments just about outnumber the less appealing ones, and White’s own creative juices are still being harvested in abundance.

Planet Of Ice marks Minus The Bear at the top of their game.

Rather than going for broke, Depeche Mode eked out a half-decent release that doesn't do either the theme or their abilities any justice. It may be called Spirit, but this album is sorely lacking in soul.

It's hard to underestimate how big and strange some of this massive album is.

For their first official release on Secretly Canadian, Bodies of Water sound concise, powerful and eclectic.

Continually tedious and far too long for its own good, 25 25 is a almost hour-long endurance test that refuses to let itself out of the duo’s own heads.

It’s certainly one of the edgier twee recordings in recent years, almost an oxymoron in itself, one that falls short on its promise to channel its internal chaos with sprightly reminiscence.

If he'd played up his vocals over his vitriol, Brutalist Bricks could have been a much better album. Loud and messy may be the hallmarks of hardcore, but showcasing his talents would have made a bigger impact, both musically and politically.

Despite how structurally disciplined it sounds as a whole, their chamber-turned new wave hybrid should suffice for those who couldn’t fathom it from front to back.

Me Moan is a challenging effort that rewards as much as it confounds, and really doesn’t bring us anywhere closer to understanding Gibson’s true guise.

There are at least five tracks here which are a class apart from anything else they’ve written, and hint at a dexterity and professionalism that hadn’t really been previously evident. On the other hand, it’s probably the least consistent of Slow Club’s three albums so far.

While Waysides is unmatched in quality and execution, it sometimes feels a little too neat compared to the lush orchestrations of her breakthrough 2019 LP Bird Songs of a Killjoy. But there are some surprises to behold, coming in late into the album.

Cream is a victim of the times, no more than a mere face in a pop culture marketplace crowded with sexual aggrandizing and salacious controversy. The kind of antics Peaches has built her career on--pushing and pulling at the accepted boundaries, tongue-in-cheek shock value--are now a common rite of passage for artists pushing their edgy shtick.

It is clever and witty like the band is want to be, but when listening to Rant I stopped caring about the lack of instruments and simply enjoyed myself.

Trust ends with Chapman pleading his object of affection to have some faith in him, though it could also be a message to his listeners: setting aside his lackadaisical manner, Chapman really does want you to care about what he thinks.

The 70s soft rock inspirations hit the hardest on two of the most interesting cuts here, Far From Born Again and Bad for the Boys. The two tracks combine a jaunty, easy-listening sheen, with lyrics in the former that discuss sex work positively, and in the latter, that talk about the reckoning of abusive men.

Good as a heartbreak-balm, an above-average way to spend a night in bed or just something to dance with your special lady / man / whatever to, Love is All's latest proves that they can be counted on to bring quality pop, no matter what.