Yet although it lasts barely half an hour, it feels as if the album doesn't quite cohere into a convincing whole, and that the first half's captivating energy is lost amidst one too many hazy, half-formed slow jams later on. Even so, a hugely promising debut.

In the face of setbacks, Ford remains resilient, producing something that displays the singer-songwriter as a true force of nature.

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.

It’s wildly unpredictable in a lot of ways. It will just veer, with no rhyme or reason, into territory you’d never think possible to be immortalised in recorded sound. If you were to step back, you might even think for a moment that it’s genius.

A reprise of the title track with added orchestration and extended strings only serves as a reminder of how lushly the album began and highlights what’s been missing in the latter half. Kahn as the producer can appear less critical than the songwriter and while the whole album possesses an innate beauty some material is very spartan and has you craving more actual songs.

Even while Spiral never quite touches on the grandeur of its predecessor, Jaar and Harrington here appear content as ever laboring over their unique vision.

I Got Too Sad For My Friends doesn’t deliver much versatility. Each track rolls into the next, and while that is alike to the depression Denton dissects in the record, it doesn’t make for varied listening.

For fans of expertly crafted summer toe-tappers, its gifts are ample enough for a summer fling, although perhaps few will be looking for more.

Death Valley Girls have collectively crafted a record worthy of their dusty Californian roots, an album which is a step up from any previous works featuring some of their most infectious jaunts.

This is a stylish, warm-hearted album with a sense of humour, it takes a few risks and seeks to entertain, more often than not it does its job.

While the album has its forgettable moments, there are points where McVicar and Tweeddale really show what they’re made of--and that, if you piss them off, you’re going to know about it.

While McRae’s previous outings may have been more complexly assembled, her new songs are more immediately accessible. Stylistically and in terms of production, many of the tracks on I Used to Think I Could Fly are markedly unconvoluted and easily recallable.

Las Ruinas spotlights Rico navigating a broader emotional and stylistic range than she did on her debut, while also displaying finer attunement to the details of songcraft, production, and performance. And yet, one has the sense that Rico is still seeking to codify her brand, to claim a fertile balance between horror and pop, posture and vulnerability.

Ultimately, Dunes is a collection of tracks which showcases Gardens & Villa’s distinctly original twist on the well-worn and much abused genre of synth-pop. It’s fun, it’s clever and it’s mature--electro-pop for adults.

They’re Zayn’s stories but they’re shared in such an honest, straightforward yet compelling manner that they feel like your own.

A new Dawes album will succeed for one primary reason: Taylor Goldsmith’s ability to connect with a new batch of stories. To that end, Stories Don’t End is another success.

With its less harsh sounding vocals, it [Winter Weather] is the perfect closer, further demonstrating Khan’s desire for a more mature sound on his solo debut.

Echo is an offering with a success that can be judged in the way it evokes such imagery, notwithstanding the fact it wears its influences so visibly.

It’s a very strong release, energetic and intense, and promises a high-octane finale.

Charli is almost there. Ultimately she’s too gloriously messy and multitudinous to produce such a thing. Although she could often benefit from an editor, her process and vision doesn’t adhere to the music industry’s prioritisation of the album format – which feels right for an artist whose music could be read as an attempt to dissolve time itself.

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

This certainly isn’t one for Mumford & Sons fans. There’s no big, foot-stomping, sing-along moments here; instead, the song arrangements are sumptuously layered, built on many little, delicate, moving parts, masterfully put together by producer Blake Mills.

In many ways it’s a simple record, favouring technique over technology and to-the-point lyrics rather than those that miss the point completely.

Vol. 2 probably won't win PC Music many new fans or converts, but it'll satiate die hards and offer those who listen closely just enough deviation from a successful formula.

This is a really surprising record, and one that you really have to spend time with to let it fully hit ya.

Whether it's the drifting of "Singalong Junk," the stripped down, jazz-cat prowling of "Mountain Moves," or the electro-tripping of "Sea Moves," Deerhoof have simply outdone themselves with Mountain Moves, an album that requires as much focus as it does imagination.

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

There are only a handful of pop albums that can sustain epic run times through the power of really, really good songs alone (Car Seat Headrest’s Teens Of Denial is one of them). There’s a story for those who want it and some delightful songcraft for those who don’t. Not a bad compromise.

Are there a few weaker moments here and there? Sure. ... But it’s impossible to be bored as you move from the filthy heaviness of "Giving Blood" to the punchy, melodic "Meteor", all the way through to the gorgeous choral rapture on "Dying Is Absolutely Safe".

Cool Planet sits perfectly in the balance of effortless craftsmanship and half-arsed laziness. Just where it should be.

There’s a rough finesse to each track, one which is clearly purposeful – the production and instrumentation is strident yet incisive. It feels churlish to critique such a lively, soul-cleansing burst of energy, especially since the album is filled with hints of killer choruses trapped just beneath the surface and itching to break through.

Let’s Be Still is wholesome and sincere, in the way those words were intended, and without any pretense or airs and graces.

Dissonances and a more careful mixing of the vocals would definitely help propel the band higher up, but what we have right now is a mature trio which you would definitely appreciate beer-in-hand while carefully tapping your foot on a sticky floor.

Krell’s voice could never get tiresome, but the album seems unclear as to what it wants to be--too restless for heartbreak, too downbeat for the dancefloor, like a candle that’s trying to illuminate a club.

On their debut, MM@TA have cemented themselves as champions of olden days pop punk, repackaged and remodelled for the new generation.

Red Moon in Venus marks a consolidation of Kali Uchis's talents, a work that manages to experiment whilst distilling her artistic essence, and flexing just quite how good she is at it.

A still-formidable effort, but perhaps not the homecoming .Paak would have produced if he'd decided to go his own way.

“I Shouldn’t Have Said That”, the pummeling psych diptych “Return of Witchcraft” and “Witchcraft”, and every other corner of Eggland find them in their sweet spot: blunt pop purity bolstered by Big Muff pedals and a sense of not-quite-reckless abandon.

It's a deft endeavour in making an album that speaks to the most bombastic music of the past, and it's an enjoyable listen – just be wary of ear fatigue.

By pushing Josh Kolenik’s vocals further up in the mix, the songs tell more of a narrative of discovery than their hazy, ambiguous earlier material.

So yes, it's a cracking release from DTP, but it's not without fault. You certainly get your money's worth though and only a fool would hesitate before recommending it.

Love Is Free sits strangely in the canon of Robyn. It’s euphoric, and like every great Robyn anthem, there’s a cry-while-you-party type sound on the mini-LP that’s intensely emotional but wields an undeniable kinetic streak.

The Love Invention isn’t quite the crown grab it has the potential to be, despite her being on brilliant form as always.

Whilst Small World doesn't quite pack as much of a punch as Metronomy Forever, it’s a sweet and uplifting album.

Do What You Want To, It’s What You Should Do--isn’t really revelatory in any sense, though it’s an irrefutably gorgeous document.

Though longtime fans of Porches--or any of Maine’s work--will never get another Pool, The House makes for a fulfilling, if not occasionally excellent listen and addition to Maine’s discography.

Jambinai are at their most moving when reduce their ire and create more drawn out, ambient compositions.

The poppier efforts here don’t quite puncture the atmosphere that the band have worked so hard to cultivate elsewhere, but they’re hardly necessary either.

Bitter Rivals' more diffuse nature seems to have prevented them from impressing their personality on their music in quite the same manner; it’s difficult to rate it as highly as a result, but this remains a solid effort.

Still is somewhat of a step forward for the alt-R&B star, but often loses its way with repetitive songwriting and a lack of shine; its stillness might be too lax an angle.

For all its fury and fragmentation, Never Exhale is remarkably cohesive, a testament to DITZ’s ability to harness chaos into something purposeful.

This is a warming, rewarding album that grows with each listen, blossoming and unfurling in front of you. If you can get past the intensity, and see through to the glowing heart at the centre of this record, it’ll keep you coming back again and again.

Despite the occasional lack of captivating subject matter, it signifies a grown woman embracing new beginnings. The grim clouds are already clearing towards the finale – a million little stars bursting, fluttering, ready for more grandeur.

Sure, there's no new ground broken, and no definitive answers given, but We Disappear isn't meant to be that. Instead, the album is a soundtrack of reassurance.

Sitting at ten tracks long, the amusingly titled Party Gator Purgatory whisks through freeform rap (“lookaliveandplaydead”), chilling electronics, and almost cacophonous vocals to make, what could be argued, as the most bizarrely interesting record of the 21st century.

This is a fine record and if it doesn’t match up to the high standards alluded to above, that’s because Field Music really only sound like Field Music.

It’s a far more eccentric record than their first effort, stretching past the obvious influences that led to their pigeonholing as a shoegaze band, but loses a little of the unbroken, hypnotic atmosphere as a result.

Ultimately, it may not dramatically change their fortunes, but it remaina an album that’ll help further cement Cold Pumas as being one of the UK’s most underrated bands.

Ultimately, Real Deal sees Honeyglaze steadily accessing parts outside their comfort zone, their range expanding with the new territory they gain.

There are a number of highlights on the record, but “supernatural” is the shining star. .... There’s also moments that don’t quite hit where they should, with “true story” and “i wish i hated you” being perfectly nice but lacklustre or simple in their writing.

Consistency may still be a struggle, but when they get it right, Audiobooks’ unsettling brand of musical chaos makes for an impressive sophomore album that is every bit as effervescent as their debut.

You can’t help but to admire Gavin’s inescapably raw approach to this project. Sheer honesty is burrowed into every line, sometimes even at the cost of lyrical flow.

Campfire Songs admirably continues along their new musical direction and beckons you to head to Vermont wearing a wooly jumper, with all ingredients needed for S’mores in tow.

The album itself doesn’t quite reach the sharp, perfect coherence that Timberlake was clearly aiming for.

Wicked Nature is certainly the start of a renaissance, if not quite the all-conquering return it could have been

While retaining links with Toledo's DIY past, much of the tracks bleed in to one another, making stand-out moments such as "The Drum" and "Times To Die" fall flatter than they deserve. Fortunately however, the entire second half of the record makes up for any early indiscretions.

[Divine Ecstasy] is a sound--no matter how hard to quite pin down and vivisect--with which the music world has been familiar for going on a few years now, and very little groundbreaking--cloud breaking? sunshine breaks through clouds, right?--is going on here, although Cuts’ brand of amoeba production does have enough individuality to stand apart from its peers.

Spreading Rumours has enough charm to keep you busy, but not enough (bar ‘Ways To Go’) to keep you mesmerised in the long-term.

Koenig’s apparent comfort in adulthood, the security and confidence in his newer lyrics--evokes this Facebook-notification angst on a grander scale, a musicalised alienation that prompts stark re-evaluation. It’s unfair to deny even our most beloved artists this progression and growth--they don’t owe us anything – but it’s difficult to be faced with a work that suggests they have grown past the confused state that we still feel rooted to.

At just over an hour, Eucalyptus is a bit too sprawling, and could have probably been pruned comfortably in half. This may have made it a little bit more accessible and coherent, but given Avey Tare’s boundary pushing mindset, this probably would have missed the point.

What it evidently lacks in ideas and concepts, it makes up for in well-channeled cathartic energy.

Although most probably disappointing expectant fans; a long EP would have held together the worthier ideas more artistically.

It’s worth a spin for sure, and there’s some spangly gems on offer, but if you were looking for a reinvention of the wheel, Blouse are going to make you wait a bit longer.

This album is a far cry from the 90’s American college-radio rock of their Blumberg-indebted debut, but, for a seemingly make or break record, Stranger Things just doesn’t really take enough risks.

Choir of Echoes is largely a retread of old ground. It’s perfectly lovely ground all the same.

There are some gambles that don’t entirely pay off, like the 808 drums on “Sentence”, but Weaves mostly holds to its own internal logic, so it’s up to you about whether you’re going to buy in. Overall, it’s an enjoyable outing with a band clearly brimming with talent and a physical need to get their ideas out to the world.

Though The Mountain Will Fall cannot be considered a failure by any means, it does continue the trend of his recent work being left firmly in the shadow of his past.

Rebel Heart is chaotic. It’s often amazing, and occasionally crap. If she deleted half of its tracks, it’d be the comeback record she was hoping for.

There are a couple of great tracks, but a little too often you’ll find that it isn’t Norman Wisdom, Johnny, Joey or Dee Dee, but musical déjà vu that these dreams are made of.

Twin Atlantic deserves credit for doing more than just leaning into the sound that earned them airplay on Great Divide, and while GLA isn't perfect it points to an exciting direction for the Glasgow outfit.

As could be expected, Someday World has a flair for inventive interlocking compositions, but these are out of step thanks to its uneven pacing and are often palmed away by an enthusiasm for accelerated, busy instrumentation.

They’ve not quite mustered the courage to take the plunge yet, and instead what we have with FM Sushi is a band teetering on the cusp of greatness.

“Grecian Summer” seems like a Hanging Gardens off-cut, all bouncy beats and twinkling synths, whilst “Faraway Reach” is a blissed-out, breezy tune with just the right amount of funk. These moments are, however, disappointingly few and far between.

Its best moments also its most agitated. For those of us keen on more of the same from York and co, let's just hope she keeps her beady eye on the anxieties of the everyday and not on paying a visit to outerspace.

She sticks to familiarity and abides heavily to it--something worth noting, but while the album battles to make its way, her efforts aren’t entirely lost.

For every time the record’s constituent parts unite into something engaging, one has to sit through extended periods of meandering, directionless twilight, which frequently hints at an interesting diversion but rarely delivers upon such promises.

It’s a more evolved release for sure, and with less it seems Eugene McGuinness can actually achieve more.

Ultimately the potential legacy of BFF Hosted by DJ Escrow lies with the future artists it may inspire.

You have to admire the experimentation and musical audacity demonstrated on this album--i’s a shame that it doesn’t always work in jj’s favour.

Pink continues down his path of willful eccentricity on pom pom, then, with little more to add to his reputation (which sadly now appears to be growing more for his haphazard attempts to be an internet-famous ‘figure’ than his musical output), yet there are moments of atmospheric and emotive brilliance that will make you wonder what kind of excellence he could achieve if he weren’t quite so in debt to the R Stevie Moore’s legend.

The sheer volume of material on offer soon succumbs to the law of diminishing returns.

High Anxiety could have been reduced to its 12 most essential tracks and been a bit better suited for more invested listening, but perhaps Green's goal was to give himself as much room as possible to experiment, and he certainly does so here.

Electric English is not groundbreaking nor really anything that competes with the band’s back catalogue, but overall it’s a good listen that will happily satisfy OMD’s fans.

After The End is frequently great, but it’s also frequently over-familiar.

Even rushing through the time between songs so as to maintain momentum, the endless energy and refusal to stay still is admirable of Dumb. Unfortunately, the pace results in some items ultimately being left undone.

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

Iif Lo Tom lands somewhere between dumb hard fun and thoughtful jangle it likely wasn’t a creative direction anyone agonized over.

Lost in Alphaville is sometimes a little too adrift in its own world and its own thoughts of sound to make sense today.