Where Brat and it’s completely different but also still brat, may be hindered by its questionable collaboration choices, it more than makes up for it when it comes to displaying Charli XCX’s relentless pursuit of pop debauchery.

This record is a lot of fun and show great song writing promise.

Panorama proves that Kiyoko isn’t limited to any 2018 zeitgeist. There are nods to her older sound, sure, but the matured production and continued experiments show that she’s not out to recreate Expectations – she’s growing from it.

Overall, on their third record, The Big Moon stay true to their title and lay bare all that they have. They’ve shown us their rawest moments and the deepest parts of their psyche and said, simply, “Here is everything”.

What makes this album stand out from other synth pop albums is how they can switch from being overtly synthetic.

Though it’s clearly crafted with a visual accompaniment in mind, it does just about work as its own album; albeit one of their strangest, and most inventive.

Like so much of their previous output, it’s an incredibly bittersweet listen, but this time it’s less about Lewis’ wistful reflections and more to do with rueing what might have been if they’d continued; those first four cuts hint at a genuinely superb record having been in the works pre-split.

It’s an unsettling, incomparable racket of The Fall at their wonderful, frightening best.

Yes, it’s an unashamedly ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ record – but who really cares when the results are so enjoyably convincing?

It is crisply clear and gritty, with a lovely bout of emo-tinged lyricism. It is surely to be considered the strongest body of work of their career, only to be outdone with whatever may come next. Smitten is the sound of a band infatuated with their art, ready for the future, and excited to be a part of it.

Bleached don’t really break away from the tried-and-true pop-rock template here. When it’s done quite this energetically, though, it’s hard to care--especially when the sense of catharsis is so palpable.

Crying the Neck finds him getting into his stride again. If he reins in his excesses, he may be in full flight on its follow-up.

Less sprawling than its immediate predecessor, at its best it highlights the band’s creativity and tautness, echoing some of the vigour of Born on Flag Day.

If you persevere, it’s an LP that will reveal it’s creamy goodness in due time. You’ve got to wine’n'dine it, not just expect to jump into bed.

Jaga Jazzist's music has never been shy on the intellectual front, and for those willing to take the plunge, Starfire's innate intricacies leave as much to be discovered as the skies themselves.

By maneuvering their psychedelia to one side, the band has crafted their most clearly defined record to date. For those in love with bar italia for their uncanny qualities, there’s still something here, but the verdict on intention is up.

The Ooz is a meandering, disorientating trip through punk, ska, jazz and hip hop--held together by Marshall’s menacing vocal sneer.

Musically, it is not quite extraordinary, yet this could all change in a live setting, and it remains a more than worthy return for a group who are experts in their craft.

With her new album, Saputjiji, Tagaq continues to mine hardcore proclivities, stepping fully into the role of devoted subversive and guerilla artiste.

Preferring to be a bit more refined, The Silver Gymnasium mixes maturity and depth with rare awkward moments which are more typical of a band that is musically in their late adolescence.

This is an often-beautiful, fully professional work from an artist that clearly knows the toys his listeners will allow him to play with outside of his own sandbox.

This is a band still keen to experiment – a flourishing ensemble ahead of the alternative music curve.

Her flow can often be propulsive and deadly, and every so often, she strikes gold (“All Mine” and “AAAHH MEN!”). Even something like “Jealous Type”, one of Vie’s least cohesive mash of rap and pop, gets the job done.

Futurology just happens to be their most daring folly yet.

White Roses, My God is an often compelling experiment, but it’s hard not to suspect that its bold, often inscrutable excursions into alien territory ultimately undersell Sparhawk’s immense gifts as a musical communicator.

Once more, Nightmares On Wax provide the backing music to the party; once more, your enjoyment is only limited by your own imagination.

It’s a record that’s full of interesting ideas that needs a few listens to appreciate its subtleties, which are ultimately very rewarding.

You, Whom I Have Always Hated is a remarkably coherent and singular piece of work, which, due to its economy and pacing, never stumbles across an ill-fitting moment in which you can hear the seam that joins two different creative forces.