It’s a record that feels like a cosy hub of creative minds reminiscing about their memories – unhurried and finely reflective. Sadly, that’s much about it.

Sadly, these tracks don’t have any of the spontaneity and unexpected surprises that the warmer months bring with them, and instead these songs are plagued with familiar strains and arrangements that we’ve heard done far better in the past combined with overly simplistic, lovelorn lyrics that fail to make you think of anything other than bad middle-school poetry.

This isn’t quite that fantastic album we wanted and we know--at least hope we know--Brock and company have in them; however, it’s enough to prompt the hope that the axles are greased well enough now to deliver it next time around.

A Corpse Wired for Sound is still distinctively a Merchandise album, even though it’s a relative departure from their previous work. It definitely sounds a lot lonelier than its predecessors, though, as if Merchandise have become isolated by their own intelligence.

Instead of striving towards a perceived notion of happiness, Soft Landing is simply the crescendoing finale of a journey towards contentment.

The popsmith has never seemed to win over hearts in a big way, for whatever reason. It's A Pleasure is unlikely to change that, sadly. However, those that have stumbled across his ma-a-assive talent will fall deeper in love.

The more you listen, the harder is gets to place this record in a rundown of the overall Warpaint output.

The record is certainly clever but feels stripped back in comparison to their 2017 debut, now relying mostly on pointed lyricism that deftly avoids pretension. It’s a move of maturation as they continue to shift further from their Portobello Road busking days of indie hits “Over and Out” and “Light Me Up”. In a strange way it feels as if Flyte have returned to their roots.

It’s a heavy record for heavy times, but another intriguing example of what the trio can achieve, even when they’re burdened with the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Their second album is ultimately the sound of the band exploring the myriad influences that make up their sonics, in doing so realising who they are and focusing bloody-mindedly on driving the point home.

Whether conjuring aurora borealis through music, “Sound & Light", or crafting pop bangers from vulnerability, she proves that reinvention, when it’s honest, doesn’t need spectacle to dazzle. Think of Flux as an elegant evolution. She’s still dancing, but this time with her heart closer to the surface.

This is neither an essential nor an endlessly replayable record - but what it is, thankfully, is a delightful entry point to the works of Tony Bennett. Nothing else much matters.

Lookout Low is brought to a mellow ending with slow rock song “Sunken II”. The album as a whole has to be Twin Peaks’ most diverse, musically explorative and mature album yet, leaving fans with curiosity and excitement about where the band will go from here.

While the sombre tone of these 15 tracks may result in some listeners skipping through in search of something energetic, what lies at the end of this record for those with patience is a truly beautiful collection of stories built through pensive soliloquy as a means of exploring abrasive subjects.

Ewald’s writing is comprised of a number of observations that often appear fairly minor, collated into something that is at times quite evocative. There are moments however where it feels more uncoordinated, less refined, and unfortunately it is these points that prevent the record becoming the disarming gem it promises at times to be.

His reluctance to be confined to one particular sound (which makes him even more psychedelic), his nonchalant attitude towards genre, his increasing influence in leftfield rock and his skill in piecing together rhythm, chaos and calm makes him one of the most captivating artists indie rock has right now.

It’s a record that’s weird in all the right ways, and signals the emergence of an exciting new experimental force.

The album works best when you bear in mind the turbulent times that inspired it. Ti Amo has a romantic heart, and Phoenix use it to find the bright spots in a tragic world, without losing sight of the tragedy itself.

You’ve not heard William Patrick Corgan this way before--and if you just let Ogilala do its thing you’ll find a completely pleasant journey that will envelop you happily.

It’s not as thrilling or elemental as his earlier work, but Minimum Rock N Roll is a hell of a lot of fun.

Much like its creator and artwork, it remains unidentifiable, borderline incomprehensible even, but never less than thoroughly enthralling.

Oak Island is an exciting ride with uplifts, lulls and a sporadic note of menace--but the all-round brilliance of Slave Ambient ensures that Nightlands is just a quality aside for now.

It’s hard to judge if the album has simply missed its mark or, as I suspect, he appears to have lost the enthusiasm and imagination with which he approached his first, vastly superior effort.

The melodies are coated in finely woven layers which aren’t as straight-forward as they seem to be. And with dense lines to dismantle in addition to the materials they’re carefully wrapped in, prepare to invest time in this true love of a band.

As great as the album’s opening four songs might be, they hardly break new ground for the Felices.

It would seem that, even forty years on, the quartet is still brimming with dynamism and inventiveness.

Playland then is an enjoyable rock record with occasional dips into complacency that are sometimes matched by its moments of bravado and energy.

Hermits On Holiday is that rarest of treats, a side-project that could be its writers’ day job. Bristling with brio and invention, it sounds as much fun to listen to as its creators evidently had making it.

A wholly strong and fruitful debut album from the scuzz-pop prince, there’s no doubt we’ll see more maturity and critical creations in Lang’s future.

There are some exciting ideas here, but the sophisticated and mature singles like “Spinnin” and “Home To Another One” act as red herrings for an album bogged down by an odd reframing of the past.

when i paint is an intimate record full of poetic and melodic turns, giving you the impression that sometimes Levy herself is surprised by where it takes her.

A combination of new life experiences, that allow Hutchison to weave more vivid tales of mourning, nostalgia and, ultimately, triumph, and the shot in the arm that is Aaron Dessner giving the band that little bit more has helped to create an album that could rival Midnight Organ Fight.

SOPHIE in part radiates extrinsic positivity. The instrumentals, when listened to singly, are often grim and claustrophobic; it is instead the vocal contributions of her dear friends that invoke the lively spirit of collective relief.

Strange Pleasures can indeed take you anywhere if you let it, with a journey of discovery awaiting you anytime you cue it up.

This record utilizes straightforward folk-rock with understated string and brass accompaniments, mostly stripped of the whimsical music box quirks of yesteryear.

Sun Structures is a bold, muscular record.

It showcases a love of jazz and world music, bringing these sounds into their existing sound in an exciting and offbeat fashion. It acts as a bridge to their next full release, something for fans to pour over and get lost in with a huge amount of variety and talent on display.

Sure, the eccentricities of other solo efforts like Eye or I Often Dream of Trains are missing, but to complain about that would be asking for a lack of honesty that The Man Upstairs simply refuses to provide.

Queen includes 19 tracks, which some might consider to be too long for an album. But Minaj avoids boring her listeners by changing up her flow and the atomosphere of each track.

Freed from the spectre of Unicorns' success and freed from the burden of their debut Return To The Sea, Islands offers us the transcendent Islomania, their most convincing album in 15 years.

Interiors is often captivating, always interesting and certainly another confident and assured step forward for Mesirow and Glasser.

More than a curio but not quite essential, Myths 002 will not drastically change perceptions of either artist involved, but is another commendable display of their lack of fear when it comes to exploring new ways of work.

It's All Smiles is an experience that can be appreciated all the more on an end-to-end listening.

Johnston has made and most importantly shared a very good record here, one that stands as a reminder of his immense talent, of his longevity, of his kindness in spreading the benefit of his skill among younger, adoring fan-bands and yes, if you must, his power to overcome those much discussed mental problems.

It retains a surprising amount of individuality for an album almost certainly destined for the top of the charts. And, though it might well feel a little samey in it's early stages, the final half more than makes up for it.

Whether or not Joan of Arc are intentionally pulling back from some of the density of He’s Got the Whole, a bit too much space leaves stretches of 1984 less than solid in the process.

There is not as much variety on Fever Dream as “Alligator” had seemed to indicate, but there is a clear shift – it feels more open, musically, than ever before. There’s a confidence mixed with fragility, like a band born again.

Whether this is a Clyro-esque transformation underway, time will tell, but for now, we can revel in their top notch, A-grade rock cacophony as it is.

Toeing the line between infectious and abrasive, it's this swinging energy under which Lady For Sale thrives. Indeed, this isn’t an album created to lay low, it begs for attention, and once you’re in its sights, it’s impossible not to do so.

Divisive as they might be, Cudi’s experimental urges are what make him interesting; on Passion, Pain & Demon Slayin’, he’s largely drowned them in a sea of unenlightened navel-gazing.

At their best, when not wandering along in a gilded fog--much of This Is All Yours is akin to meandering in a pretty, if tiring, gloam.

I Remember isn’t a masterpiece, but it’s an all round strong record where both Reid and Francis solidify their complimentary strengths.

His creatively unrestrained approach results in a record that is hotch-potch but also one that contains several stirring, noteworthy songs.

It combines all of Doja’s past lives with some more heavy-hitting punchlines. It feels like a stark departure from her previous commercial efforts, while still showcasing some clear hits like “Paint The Town Red”, “Gun”, “Go Off”

In the end, another eternity leaves us somewhere in the middle, to contemplate the excellent and the bland.

Where You Stand picks up where you last left them--no matter where that was along the way.

While there are some moments of genuinely engaging songwriting early on, halfway through the mix of styles and genres becomes confusing and incoherent, making it feel incomplete.

Drawing on powerpop, new wave and girl group harmonies, this record is full of engaging tunes, doe-eyed dedications and wry witticisms.

It’s a perfect pop record, from start to finish – there’s not a single filler track, each is distinctive and shows off the band’s impressive range.

It’s a big world out there is certainly enjoyable, but I’d have been happy to do without the stuff we’ve heard before.

Considering that The Last Shadow Puppets is just a casual commitment and a bit on the side for Turner, Everything We’ve Come to Expect is champagne-coated, arena-sized pop-rock album that’s slick and accessibly smart.

verall it feels like a real thrift shop of curiosities with a few gems to be found if you go looking. And if you do, be prepared for a fair amount of sifting.

He demonstrates an effortless knack for crafting intricate and loveable pop gems, while shamelessly embracing heart-on-sleeve lyricism about love, dreams and shooting stars. ... He has managed to produce one of the year's most interesting indie records.

Thin Mind speaks to the concerns of an age fraught with ennui and commodification; much-needed social commentary scored with the understated, melodic, often allusive edge that is the outfit’s creative stamp.

It’s truly a fascinating listen and shows Maus on the cusp of confidently venturing into unknown territory. Even if he isn’t fully there yet, Maus is able to generate enough to show that it’s within his reach.

There’s plenty to enjoy on The Third Eye Centre, but it’s considerably closer to ‘fans only’ territory than its indispensable predecessor.

Waterfall is massive and unyielding, and marks Evian Christ now as a producer who’s mastered both tactile and intricate beats.

In.ter a.li.a is better than we dreamed it could be. Prepare to fall in love all over again.

This is not a record for quick thrills, or for sombre introspection; it is an album that creates a rich, layered sonic space, in which it invites its audience to lose themselves awhile.

It’s a slow-burning beauty and is certainly amongst Cunningham’s best work to date. His next moves will be closely measured against Lines, as this is a soaring debut made to last that will resonate with people for years to come.

Every song leaps to action, be it immediately or with a tentative build, capturing the essence of what’s fun about life. There’s even some tasteful saxophone littered throughout.

Not quite pop perfection, but it has its moments.

Madonna is not merely returning to her origins on this fourteenth album, a regenerative fervour thrives on Madame X, traversing a gamut of disparate genres, stirring curiosity and wonder with rhapsodic intensity.

Lost Friends is an essential first listen that is never too afraid of a huge chorus or a touch of slow burning intensity. Indebted only to themselves, expect great things from Middle Kids.

Her style is still niche, but Remember Us to Life is an important album for anyone invested in Spektor’s growth as a musician and, perhaps more importantly, a storyteller.

[The EP] follows the lead of last year’s return to form The Take Off and Landing of Everything in its sonic subtlety.

“The Airport” and “Leaving the House” add piano to the partnership of Graham’s voice and MacFarlane’s guitar playing (he switches from a clean and quiet electric on tracks one to five, to an acoustic on six to eight), and the color it brings to both makes one wonder what it might have sounded like had it been included on the other songs as well. On the other hand, it’s a small revelation to discover how whole and affecting songs like “I Could Give You All That You Don’t Want” and “Drown So I Can Watch” can be with a few circulating quietly strummed chords and Graham’s austere and ecstatic declamations.

Don’t expect this LP to reinvent O'Connor’s established ‘wheel’, but it certainly shows signs of a formula being gradually improved and perfected.

Luckily, there are enough tracks to cement Kelly Clarkson’s status as a long-standing pop icon – and to sympathise with her as a human being who only longs for emotional security.

The Dare is trying to present the New York songbook to the Zoomer masses with such generality that he legally cannot be paternity-traced to any one act. Slap a bass on top of some rumbling rhythms and a synth so glitchy that every line feels like a mis-input that made it through post, and all that’s left to do is pull a line from your notebook of “TikTok virality potential.”

This is a soul record that sounds pristine and yet feels raw--whatever else might’ve happened in the last couple of years, Beal’s voice--both literally and creatively--has not been withered.

There is more than enough genuine, heartfelt emotion and originality coursing through Four (Acts Of Love), with Mick Harvey proving himself yet again to have a tender touch when it comes to the delicate business of affairs of the heart.

Ultimately, the Growlers’ sunny disposition and incredibly natural, economical style of songcraft carries them through Chinese Fountain, an album which manages the impressive feat of leaving the listener both utterly satisfied and hungry for more.

Shamir represents what it is to be an outsider, with each of Revelation’s nine tracks teaching us to face our insecurities and embrace our weirdness. Even in the darkest times, Shamir’s brilliance continues to shine through

Gibson’s talent isn’t in question here, there’s a reason he’s built a reputation as one of the UK's best production talents and it’s in full display in Actual Life 3. However, it's hard to put a finger on what the album's intent is.

Adult Contemporary is a whole lot of fun, and furthers Chromeo’s mission to take the seriousness out of modern day music. Chromeo’s trajectory remains in tact with this release, and shows that funk truly never goes out of style.

Ultimately, World Wide Pop works best in small doses. Still, Superorganism’s displays of creativity and personality are admirable and will get them farther than most in modern indie pop.

For those that grew up with the band that they would even release a second post reunion record is probably enough. For those that have joined the party late however, it does nothing we haven’t heard before. And unfortunately, those moments where the album soars instead of stalls, come too infrequently to leave any lasting impression.

At first listen, Sugar at the Gate could be deemed overly saccharine, but the production is so flawless they inevitably give you permission to revel in all of your rose-tinted dreams.

Deap Lips, is less of a synthesis and more of a compromise. A diamond in the rough rather than a crown jewel. Undoubtedly more experimental than the Lips’ last collaborative effort, the music is still tinged with that same whiff of self-indulgence.

The Ridge continuously strikes a fine balance between the heady grandeur of classical music and the restless creative exploration of the current indie scene, striking a similar resonant chord with music fans who either came across the album due to their interest in Arcade Fire or Mozart.

With the aid of deft production and mild restraint, Amen & Goodbye is well within therapeutic range. Its hybrid of analogue and digital techniques have allowed Yeasayer to create their most enthralling and satisfying record to date.

Twerps couch enough of a dark streak beneath their mostly sunny exterior to promise future explorations outside their current box.

The execution itself often falls frustratingly flat, lacking originality and a clear-cut focus. With its limited scope of musical conceptions, Born Pink, therefore, sounds strangely restricted, as if detained in a confined space wherein it longs to escape.

Wolf is both a departure and a refinement for Tyler, combining his best traits in such a way as to nearly eliminate his weaknesses.

They’ve given the folk-drenched musical world of the last few years a well timed kick in the balls.

Despite her enormous talent, Know-It-All can feel a little rushed. Fair play to want to capitalise on momentum, but artistically it would have been interesting to hear what could have been achieved with a little more time spent finding Cara's own sound, rather than mixing so many in to ten tracks.

Till It’s All Forgotten is a fine debut, showcasing an artist of remarkable invention and instrumental talent.