Putting more ambition also means more risk taken, yet Monet and her collaborators go through it with confidence.

The audience becomes an audibly thrilled fifth member of the band whenever Butterss and Bellerose land on a more steadily rooted groove, which renders the initially hushed, seemingly telepathic exchanges between the musicians into a collective effort to work up a muscular and hypnotic musical sweat.

It’s not polished, but it's chromatic, jagged, yet it jangles. It’s the sort of record that skates across a pond, leaving no marks, but the ice collapses moments after it graces it.

It’s brief, and perhaps maybe pushed its sound too far to bring in many new listeners, but for those that enjoyed their previous records it’s certainly a great time.

Remember The Humans only hints at past glories, but it's a welcome reminder of why Broken Social Scene endeared themselves to us in the first place.

Location Lost is what I imagine floating endlessly through space feels like, rotating as the natural force of casting yourself away with the intention of relinquishing all grounding takes hold as reverb disappears into the unknown horizon. The buffering and battering of space debris through the majesty, akin to the twists and turns each track takes, add to the momentum.

Theft World spotlights them trusting themselves and their process – that whatever they’re doing will land as it’s supposed to land and reach the people it’s supposed to reach.

The staggering amount of feelings spent and tales fabricated draws the listener into the story as much as it may pull them out of it.

The shockingly personal look at every contour of this lofty title FENIAN – all the happiness, empowerment, community, successes, sacrifices, disenchantment, confliction, grief – makes for a far more interesting, humanising record. Kneecap’s fire understandably dimmed, but it never sizzled out.

An endearing, lo-fi filtered record not limited in what it has to say.

These new songs build on Sohn’s mechanical, rigid guitar-driven synthpop with stomping techno and bittersweet electronics, inducing a dreamy haze as the cyborg operates on a depleted charge.

This is a snapshot of a band that has conquered mountains and achieved grand things while proving you can still find those edges at the peak that go a little higher.

With how much groundwork they’ve already laid, Friko can afford to conduct themselves more lightly this time, but there are promises from their introduction that we’re still waiting for.

The beats prove slick with how they are able to further express his feelings, the lyrics are solid with bits of metaphors sprinkled for impact, and the production itself enlivens the whole experience. It wouldn’t be out of place for Joseph to come back in the next few years with a bigger masterpiece.

Singing shines brightest when Margaret's voices are in harmony.

If she’s toed a contemporary line, it’s been mostly via sonic contexts and a swaggery bent. With Fidelity, she lets much of that go, embracing an old-school R&B MO. It’s a credit to her unflagging authenticity that despite her retro leanings, she’s still chic, modish, and frequently enchanting.

Throughout the album, the duo’s sound stretches and bends like pliable dough, somewhat unmoored from any solid foundations, subject to abrupt and unexpected – yet still cohesive – contortions with little advance warning.

It's a no-frills sound, but dynamically expressive enough to make a potent virtue of the live feel ethos that characterises Total Dive.

Judging by the often mesmerising, genuinely timeless and deeply resonant Evergreen In Your Mind (which ultimately adds up to far more than the sum of its highly commendable parts, especially if ingested in one uninterrupted, focused sitting), Habel’s own steps are inching ever closer to a comprehensive mastery of the folk song format.

Taking their cues from alternative sub-genres of the last thirty to forty years, Girl Scout offer their own self-effacing contribution to infectiously febrile effect.

FREE SPIRITS brilliantly represents the pairs growth into themselves and into the reality around them. It’s as playful as you’d expect – the features all doing their part to add to the dizzying hold on to actuality – but beneath the smirk lies something more deliberate.

Perhaps what’s most striking about Birding is how cohesive it is for a debut, every swell is intentional and carefully placed without ever feeling clinical. There’s warmth and space while including all the finely crafted minutia needed to give songs genuine depth and the band have resisted the urge to overcomplicate things.

Far from monotonous, the band’s seemingly relentless pummelling rewards a patient listener with plenty of hypnotic texture and enriching detail that is far easier to simply feel and become immersed in than do justice to with words.

Sexistential is Robyn at her most lucid, practicing at liberation and assuredness now with this singular caveat of reinhabitation that doesn’t celebrate Robyn as a pop iconoclast with thirty years of consistent brilliance on the scoreboard – or doesn’t only; rather, she wields that in the creation of a self-mythology that also manages to sound brilliant on its own merit.

Surprising, always engaging debut solo album.

Ö is a raw, natural celebration of that trust. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, and it’s exactly what’s needed heading into summer.

Her songs look straight into the abyss and still reach out for colour. That choice, made again and again across the album, gives it a quiet power, one as a listener you have to be willing to absorb to feel fully.

Avalon Emerson is doing everything required on Written into Changes to tear up the dance-pop rule book.