This isn’t just required listening; it’s also a realization that McCraven’s efforts offer us a glimmer of hope – somehow lifting us up and pushing us towards the heavens.

The remastering work across the whole album is more subtle than might have been feared in that it does not draw attention to itself, but simply and effectively brings out more clearly than before the (positive) group dynamics and the sonic range. .... The three records are in an attractive tri-fold sleeve, though it would have been good, for such a lavish and correspondingly expensive product, to have the paper inner sleeves for both the studio album and the live one poly-lined.

They’ve consolidated on the progression made between their first two albums and in turn produced their finest effort to date.

Now it’s all about reinvention rather than replicating a sound, and by coalescing various influences and styles Chorusgirl have the balance just about right.

Wild Light as a whole represents the band’s most ambitious work to date; it’s a meticulously crafted and admirably complex record from a band that are constantly thrilling in their unpredictability.

Dream Wife is a fierce finger to the patriarchy for a fresh and socially aware generation.

It’s a thought-out piece of work; a collection of collaborating and competing daubs of colour across a blank canvas; a flock of sounds moving together as one, for one simple reason alone: to bring you joy.

The band is tighter, more focused, and have honed their sound ever more slightly, tossing in snippets of texture and becoming even leaner.

The Road Part 1 may just be the album that finally sees Lavelle step away from the shadows of Unkle’s debut. The star power is there, the record beckons to be listened to on repeat, and there's definitely an anticipation of what is to come on The Road Part 2.

Diana Ross simply has no right to produce music this engaging, this vital, at this point in her life - and this devil may care attitude has enabled her to produce one of the most definitive bodies of work in her entire career.

Each song a little burst (nothing over 2:30), the rough ’n’ ready charm to Stay Alive is where it shines like a diamond plucked from the depths of blackened coal. It feels like Grace is in the room, life unfurling from her mind and straight into music.

VanGaalen’s sixth album shows him easing more into his bright and disorienting vision.

Unreal is a labyrinthine effort you’ll find almost impossible to not get lost in.

This is a collection that displays consistently and rigorously the undervalued, underexposed talent of one of the country’s best post-Ray Davies songwriters and one that, despite its length and sometimes haphazard nature is a fitting milestone to this prolific, profound and playful master of the songwriting form.

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.

There’s a unique heart hidden deep with every album he creates, and Power Chords is no different. Open yourself up to the world of Krol.

Tip of the Sphere tackles generally what we’d expect it to--but with no disappointment, McCombs functions as a fail-safe narrator for our time. Within the LP’s musings, we as listeners look to him as he maintains a sense of worldliness and top-tier deftness as a songwriter and within those wonders and expectations, he invites us along as we get the chance to engage with his particular, introspective vision.

Jurado has remained steadfastly allergic to any stereotypical singer-songwriter navel-gazing from day one, and perhaps it’s this aversion to familiar templates that both keeps the masses at an arm’s length and makes albums like Reggae Film Star so richly rewarding for those in the know.

LP5 is an album which simply affords itself space to breathe. Whether it be in Ring’s confidence in allowing a guest artist to fill the immediate musical landscape or the deference paid to the traditions of both electronic and acoustic music alike it all works together to create one of Sascha Ring’s most comprehensive releases to date.

Electric is a work of renewed purpose, whose short time-frame and scant tracklist (no PSB album has ever clocked in shy of ten songs) belie the gems that lie within.

The Weather Station is a model example of expanding an act’s sound without losing sight of what made them great to begin with.

There’s a shagginess to some of the tracks here, and a producer without skin in the game might have taken a pair of shears to the record, but that would be tantamount to criminal damage. The Hard Quartet is like four suburban dads starting a garage band on a whim, only with prime beef musicians and a huge label behind them, and if that’s not charming in this day and age, nothing is.

It’s a definitive project encapsulating body autonomy, queer love, humour and fury, all the more confidently told by a vocal chameleon whose performance stands out amongst the rich production traversing decaying foliage, fizzling suns and AI leaders.

Wholly a spontaneous offering, entirely DIY in production, and made from the creative confines of whatever was available to the singer in self-isolation; Charli XCX has proved that music really can be made anywhere, with anything, during a period where the world is on pause, and still sounds like the future is hers to play with.

This compilation, of tracks from 2003-2013, captures what’s utterly brilliant about the A&C roster by mixing the hits with rarer tracks, giving perhaps the definitive overview of the Canadian music scene of the past ten years.

Their debut packs a far mightier punch than the output of almost any other contemporary group with whom they may share certain influences; not bad for a fictitious band, really.

This is ain't your average country record.

The Competition proves a multi-layered offering from the two-piece, juxtaposing viscerally relevant themes with modulating, often overpowering soundscapes. It's volatile, beguiling stuff, and utterly distinctive.