A dazzling introduction to new fans, and a crystal clear familiarity for fans that have been here from the beginning.

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

With sonics so extraordinarily ornate and a soul-stirring sentiment to match, three men and their producer have successfully taken the listening world to church, and left it there waiting for its next sermon.

Love Hallucination ultimately feels like an artist riding on intuition.

With Eye on the Bat, it’s as if the 29-year-old Kempner shares the pages of their diary, revealing their reveries, fears, and embarrassments. Kempner may be now-oriented, but they’re also the beneficiary of a newfound and bigger-picture awareness.

Sunburn is a delightful entanglement of love, introspection, and nostalgia, married together by slick guitar licks, preppy notes, and delightful beats that make for Fike’s most impressive project to date.

When Horses Would Run relies on its all-over-the-place ideas for humorous purposes and while it might make for a confusing listen at times, there is fun to be had in its zaniness.

The Feminine Divine can’t match those first three deathless classic albums and falls just below the convincing return that was One Day I’m Going to Soar. Still, there’s enough of their unique brilliance on display to make this a qualified victory.

Though the album can feel dangerously repetitive at times, slower takes like ‘So What’ act as a reprieve from these moments.

For all its pomp and broad appeal, it brims with the artist’s personality and is a delight to connect with.

As Albarn croons, “Every generation has its gilded poseurs” and The Ballad of Darren prove that Blur are some of the best ever to do it.

Barbie the Album dashes headfirst for airy joy and low-key festivity, all hyperbolic and glittery when its primary focus should be on elucidating the film’s feminist thesis.

Cut Worms, now Clarke’s third record under this moniker, arrives as handsomely as the tidal waves that ramble onto the shore: high-spirited yet uncompromising in their force.

The record is quietly confident; Gunnulfsen can belt, but she doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

Shows Hus display his greatest quality - his music. Straightening his ‘darling of UK rap’ crown, it is an album that experiments with a variety of sounds and sonic styles, in a more dynamic way than previous offerings.

While glaive clearly still has the chops to record something great, his debut falls short of the creativity that marked his meteoric rise to fame.

If IRL is not as consistent as her previous output, this new album still cements Mahalia as a major R&B/Soul fixture both nationally and abroad.

Though acoustic tonality may appear muddy, the confident voice of Supermodels reigns loud and clear.

It may be a hard record to get a finger on, particularly compared to her last decade or so of releases, but I Inside The Old Year Dying, is another strong record in a discography already stacked with classics.

These songs feel as if they only exist as a reference for performances, rather than for their own good. Not to mention that the point of a house show is missed if I am forced to put the record on in a crowded metro just to imitate the feeling of getting thrown around in a drunken haze before work.

The instrumentation on My Back is gentle, self-conscious, and loose in structure while that on her earlier works is poised and intricate. This rawness doesn’t make it any less powerful; it intensifies the despondency haze that hangs in the air of each song like a yet-to-rain nimbus.

Despite that blemish [changing a lyric in “Better Than Revenge”], Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) is a cathartic release of pent-up frustrations of things she never had the confidence to say at 19 that are now stated proudly at 33.

The Greater Wings joins Sufjan Stevens's Carrie & Lowell and Ghosteen by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds in the ranks of minimalist yet multi-layered, masterfully realised albums that are unmistakably rooted in loss and grief but ultimately transcend their painfully personal origins by blooming into life-affirming, universal beauty and resonance.

Toil and Trouble excels in emerging from imagination with a realistic moral of the story; it accepts that peace comes from within – that even if the world’s been set aflame, one can learn to achieve tranquillity amidst the fire. Debatable, of course, but practical all the same.

Where previously The Japanese House has sometimes found itself overwhelmed by production that is a little too misty, In The End It Always Does sounds like Bain stepping into the sun.

Everything here works, but that’s hardly great praise.

There’s an air of mystery that surrounds Sternberg and their songs – as if you’re encountering someone who is both stronger and more fragile than they appear. It’s this elusive quality that prompts one to visit and revisit this music. As much as Sternberg reveals, that much – and more – roils beneath the surface.

No matter how disorganised Olivia Dean proclaims this album to be, she doesn’t miss a beat – and instead generates a record with just about everything to deem itself ‘perfect’.

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 result is a hugely compelling, powerfully inviting album that manages to be simultaneously and seamlessly equal parts intimate and epic, experimental and elementally down to earth – often simultaneously. A perfectly formed gem, in other words.

On album number two, instead of writing out a cheat sheet, they have created an enigma for you to unravel. One of dark beauty and twisting longing.

This isn’t a perfect album – far from it – but it is stylistically consistent, thematically coherent and beautifully composed.

The Good Witch is pleasant pop, a record that doesn’t feel like it’s trying too hard while still cutting with witty writing.

Despite being as zesty as it is entertaining, Feed The Beast feels compromised as it shoots for the stars.

All Her Plans spotlights the Melbourne-based band as they reach new heights, exuding love, indignation, and indomitability, the essentials of “conscious” punk circa 2023.

They haven't put all the pieces together, but the evidence suggests that Geese are still capable of laying a golden egg.

While the latter half of the record isn’t as engrossing as the first half, it still concludes with a solid trio of tunes.

Life Under The Gun is a flawed but enjoyable debut album.

Heartfelt stories such as these show – not tell; King of a Land does so in the last leg, but there’s always a nagging wonder of what the record would’ve been had it done so throughout its entirety.

Williamson’s voice, writing, and sound have all evolved leaps from her previous albums, and Time Ain’t Accidental stands tall among masterful country-pop crossover records like Speak Now or Golden Hour that made their authors superstars.

The London-based trio use corrosive riffs, candid lyrics and pop hooks to deliver their most direct statement of self-autonomy yet.

Isbell’s ninth LP is a cautious refinement rather than a reinvention for the Americana icon – and as he explores a familiar set of themes, the lyrics can sometimes feel as though they could have been directly pulled from the cutting room floor of previous studio sessions.

Joy'All ends up being a bit of everything and never establishing a clear enough character. The injection of joy is refreshing yet contrived, and all the simultaneous changes seem too big of an undertaking for her collaborators, who are not able to cultivate her sound.

Although it's great to hear the forever prodigy in a better headspace, more mature and precise with his words and emotions, it was the youthful messiness echoed in past efforts that made King Krule far more intriguing than what listeners will experience under the lingering gloom of Space Heavy.

As they continue to challenge conventions and push boundaries, while still being utterly and completely themselves, Protomartyr stand tall as a testament to the enduring spirit of innovation that defines Detroit's rich musical history.

Unwilling to finish on “14”’s vulnerability, Water From Your Eyes keep us at arm’s length, but eager to burrow deep and discover everything this album has to offer.

With an album this good, feeble little horse are bound for the winner's circle. For now, though, the grass looks plenty green right where they're standing.

Miya Folick orbits and sometimes grasps something transcendent about living through unprecedented times on ROACH.

The result is a sequence that sounds more expansive and sublimely mapped, yet perhaps less combustive, less raggedly urgent. I.e., Monolith is triumphant on its own terms.

While no wheels have been reinvented, The Show is far from a bad record. If you’ve spent any time trying to imagine what a new Niall album would sound like, you’re probably pretty close.

PARANOÏA isn’t without flaw; some tracks work more as spoken poems than as songs due to their slack, unmoving instrumentation. But at almost 100 minutes, Chris’ most astounding work yet expands his craftsmanship to territories surprisingly well-suited for him.

At only 32 minutes and housing five interludes, The Age of Pleasure is slim on ideas and music. It would be more successful if she followed the same pattern of zinging between genre and form effortlessly like on Dirty Computer, but this record largely sticks to reggae and funk, leading to a slower, more lax mood.

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.

Last Man Dancing is a party to escape to when life gets a little bit too much, and it delivers on its mission statement with abundance.

Undoubtedly Bully’s best album yet, Lucky For You is the culmination of growing up and dealing with the shit stuff; death, the world, etc. But it never wallows in the mire. Instead it jumps up, hair flying wildly, and sticks a middle finger in the air, ready to kick out the jams.

Throughout Shadow Kingdom, Dylan is found virtually savouring the sweet taste of his lyrics, applying care, precision and masterful phrasing that renders the results really quite beautiful.

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.

Ironically for an album so deeply immersed in the past and the all-enveloping shadow of a famous parent, the album provides that Dury’s talents require no piggybacking on anyone else’s fame: this is the real deal.

The stories she unveils here can get dull and repetitive – as they are designed to be relatable to as wide an audience as possible – but the way she tells them is, more often than not, captivating enough to sit through the 3-minute runtime.

As a whole it's a fine addition to the Foo Fighters catalogue – but that’s not the point of this album. .... This is a reminder that the Foo fighters are a band bigger than any individual member - including Grohl. They're a rock band that, even when the going gets tough, know that there's a job to do and there's no better way to deal with life than throwing together some ringing chords and belting the dark clouds away.

Doing what it says on the tin, My Soft Machine is powerfully subtle, and reasserts Parks’ ability to capture and alleviate negative emotions, while simultaneously furthering her exploration of the sound that put her on the map.

AI could never replicate the unique balance between deranged imagination and supreme sanity that is the mark of a great Sparks record like this.

Never has Kesha's music felt this inspiringly rich. It has all the potential of once again making her a staple on the music scene, and this time even beyond pop.

Some listeners may miss the rawer sounds and leanings of her debut and the instrumental adventurousness of her second album, as Lahey wends her way through a less incendiary and more restrained sequence. Still, she employs volume dynamics skillfully, her melodies are consistently enrolling, and her lyrics, at once colourful patter, empathetic pep-talk, and a vehicle for catharsis, are aptly accessible.

Whilst there’s a great range of material to lose yourself in here, it can at some points feel a little like (Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality is composed of many different albums – switching swiftly as they do between ideas from song to song. Your mileage will vary, and the excited mixture of material did little to affect my enjoyment of the album, but it’s worth pointing out nonetheless.

It may not be revolutionary in its music or pantomime, with some evident missteps. Still, the secret society is doing a world of good by exposing a gamut of fans to the many genre-bending tricks they possess.

Broken By Desire To Be Heavenly Sent is a triumphant return from Capaldi. There’s plenty that’s consistent with his debut.

Tracey Denim manages that difficult task, of creating an album that feels like a self-contained world without losing sight of songs that really work in and of themselves.

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

The Album is a solid effort of accessible pop-rock, and to expect any more or less from Jonas Brothers would be foolhardy.

On What’s Your Pleasure? though Ware sounds simply like a serious star, on an album where she finally has the confidence to commit to her most theatrical tendencies and cut loose at the same time. The effect is liberating in the way disco always intended.

With Ali Chant on production duties, Cloth seem to have found the fullest version of themselves. There is an added intent to tracks such as “Lido”, as Rachael and Paul bring their most interesting ideas to the fore, instead of burying them in the mix.

Woods presents a complicated dynamic but a contented one. He’s a man ill-at-ease with his profession, his place in the industry and within society, but at least he’s another great album closer to being comfortable with himself.

The Rat Road is a record from not just a producer, but an artist, fully in command of his new direction.

An Inbuilt Fault transcends emotion in favour of exploration.

While the first third of the LP shows a band more focused than ever, the lack of playfulness proves a detriment going into the middle chunk of Everything Harmony. ... The third to last track, “Ghost Run Free”, offers hope for fans.

We're left with 14 songs that, as promised, deliver a more personal side of Sheeran, who pens ruminative statements such as "Is this the ending of our youth when pain starts taking over?" ("End of Youth") yet he still alludes us through pop songwriting that is convinced emotions need to be dressed up as repetitive pedestrian motifs and served up on a silver platter.

All of This Will End is an album to listen to while driving fast into the sunset, windows down, trying to make sense of the world.

First Two Pages of Frankenstein is yet another dose to remind you why – and how – the band have managed to carve their own special place out in the cultural landscape.

That! Feels Good! isn’t as lyrically vibrant or extraordinary as What’s Your Pleasure? but holds its own with slinky grooves and a lane where Ware feels most comfortable.

Imagine This is a High Dimensional Space of All Possibilities is one of those rare records that is very long but doesn’t seem to have an idle moment. The album becomes deeper and more rewarding with each consecutive track.

Creatures of the Late Afternoon is a significant evolution since his seminal work Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, showcasing an impressive restraint of oversaturating us with dizzying samples and flashy turntablism and instead focusing on letting the music speak for itself.

Enter Shikari are as invigorating as ever, and perhaps at their most invigorated too.

The core of the album, for all its cultural commentary and musical relevancies, is just a solid guitar-indie foundation.

A four-track run from “Spider” to “New Magic II” – which includes the title track and “St. Francis Waltz” – proves a career best for Rose, housing her most affecting tunes yet.

The album’s been in gestation for two years, and yet with a few exceptions the ten songs here sound like offcuts. It’s not that Fuse is actually that bad – but it feels like a futile exercise, a series of turns down paths which don’t go anywhere.

It is a record that embraces recovery and revels in the joy of reclaiming what you love and wanting to go further with it. Gregory’s debut is an album that tells a painful story, with a renewed sense of optimism.

Eloise is an artist that’s been an exciting prospect for some time, and Drunk On A Plane has delivered what we were all hoping it would.

72 Seasons is certainly a triumph. It's Metallica by the books, the experimentation and curiosity pushed aside for brutality and sheer force. How much of this you can handle is debatable, but therein lies the trick of 72 Seasons.

Over quiet vocals, nifty guitar pickings, and an open diary of personal confessions, Lily sets out 40 minutes of warm, stripped-back introspection. The tempo barely lifts above a sway, but if you lean into the motions, the familiarity comforts more than it wanes.

With Multitudes Feist has entered a new era in her artistry, one in which she makes space for reverie. Her grand realizations are beautifully stated.

The ten deft and devastating songs soundtracking this latest instalment flash by in a blur. It’s around the third play that things start falling into place.

Taking place in a world that requires you to understand the minutiae and dichotomy of love – where heroes and villains coexist – without this prerequisite knowledge, by the end of the flickering film, it may feel like a one-trick pony. However, if you've felt the cold light of day on you after your own divine tussle with Cupid, then this album will gently offer aid.

At 25, Hartzman’s old enough to romanticize her youth but world-weary enough not to try recapturing it. The space between the two – reckless childhood and cynical maturity – is where Wednesday resides, but they manage to find beauty in it all.

Their second full-length may be short, but it expertly treads the line between fantasy and realism, between pretension and honesty, and wraps it all up before you’ve had time to raise an eyebrow.

Higher Than Heaven is pure candy floss in the best way – little substance, but the sugar rush is so immaculate it ends up not mattering.

The artist’s love for effortless aesthetics may have ironically been brought into a confident big room setting on With A Hammer, but successfully merging thoughtful pop, trip hop, house and everything but the kitchen sink is surely anything but effortless.

It is the sound of an artist finally getting to let loose and say the things that have stayed locked up inside for too long. In turn, Teitelbaum offers an exciting introduction to a talented songwriter and a thoroughly rewarding debut.