What with imitation being the greatest form of flattery, this must be one of the most flattering albums of all time. This is music by Devo fans, for Devo fans, and it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

The group still manages to fluidly blend southern-fried garage rock, soul, psychedelia, and funk on their sixth studio effort, showing no ill effects from the recent shakeup to their tight-knit core.

Not everything on Peacers works, but when it does, it’s the sonic equivalent of driving along a beach with a summer breeze rushing right through you.

At 17 tracks, A Moment of Madness could be more taut and, frankly, have a bit more madness in the mix. Bizu is such a gifted vocalist that it would’ve been a treat to get a few less polished cuts.

Randolph has come home and he’s never sounded better.

Dynamics is, first and foremost, a dance album, and as such, it passes its most critical test with flying colors; at no point during its duration is one unburdened of the desire to dance.

Back to Forever is a fully-realised pop album and grandiose to a fault. It’s got a fair share of cheesy moments, but they’re endearing.

A total package of pop hooks, instrumental genius and gorgeous rhythms, Mulvey presents us with an intelligent record that demonstrates his passion for sounds outside of insular scenes.

It all results in their strongest album for over two decades.

Most disarming moments occur when things quieten down: the gently swirling, beautifully troubled “Turbulence”, for example, describes the daily grind and bustle with almost Nick Drake-ian grace and reticence. The closing "Devotee" occupies similar regions, with a propulsive, creaky organ coda that hints at what might be if Modern Nature got a bit looser next time around.

While it might not appeal to name-checked acts Phil Collins (dead, apparently) or Sting (“Lose the fucking yoga”) those who seek solitude in the British weather, putting the world to rights in the local and who see the beauty in Motorway services and high-vis jackets will be thrilled with a collection that’s Blighty-themed, from a duo whose output is still beautiful.

Each fleeting harmonious moment on the album relies on the one that came before it, and the one that comes after.

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.

Musically speaking, there are a few hopefully upbeat indie-folk numbers to provide a certain spark to the otherwise bleak lyrical subject matter.

Fairhurst has delivered his most cohesive record yet, filled with love, sadness, excitement and familiarity – the essential building blocks that helped to fortify the foundations of house music decades ago.

With Saltwater but as a difficult second album goes, this is a total breeze rather than a mainsail-battering ocean storm.

In short, it feels like Ellie Goulding at her most honest, and her most heartfelt.

Tweens pulls no punches, though; this is basic music and these are basic words expressing basic emotions.

While Strange Little Birds might not be Garbage’s most immediate release, lyrically it’s certainly their bravest and 20 years into their career, it feels like they’ve entered a new era.

Bones is a remarkable, chameleonic entity.

It isn’t often that metal is as direct and exhilarating as it is on Viscerals, and despite a series of songs concerned with the more unsavoury facets of life, there is a furious energy at the heart of the record it’s hard not to get swept up in.

No one idea ever outstays its welcome and there’s no denying the passion behind Hynes’ work and the fascinating insights that come with these 17 tracks. It’s an album that feels haphazard but one that is luckily more hit than miss, and an album that ultimately needs to be experienced.

Where You’re Meant To Be conveys the coziness of the room without any tricks or much polish, just a balance among the performers and enough proximity to the audience to capture bits of individual voices here and there.

While it's certainly missing any form of coherency, Witness does feel like you're growing with Perry - going on this journey that's helped her find new ground and a reinvigorated appreciation for all walks of the pop music spectrum.

Radiosoul understandably doesn’t pretend to be radical in style. His identity remains in the mist, a potent star yet to arise, a minor upgrade from the debut as he suggested in the press.

Tapestried by contributions from the likes of Rousay, Roy Montgomery, caroline’s Alex McKenzie and Squid’s Laurie Nankivell, Murphy’s debut is an uncanny and heroic game of hide and seek.

They are definitely a marketable band (it’s no wonder Katy Perry ripped them off) and Lost Time is Tacocat’s biggest accomplishment to date--27 minutes of bubblegum pop that doesn’t lose its taste.

While its tunes are a little weaker than that of her previous albums, she emulates the “poetry without the words” she mentions on “Sacred”, snapshotting around a subject in order to construct a clear picture. But sometimes the resulting image is a little hazy.