They've created something cinematic, pragmatic, and above all, fantastically like nothing we’ve heard from them before.

Knowing What You Know feels like a journey, one that’s filled with mountainous climbs and treacherous lows, each to be consumed with reckless abandon, because that’s exactly what Marmozets are--a force to be reckoned with.

At times strained, others contemplative, though always whimsical, theirs is a carefully constructed character, one that refuses to take itself too seriously though never dares become anything close to disinterested. And for that, and indeed much else, they should be highly commended.

I quit shows that HAIM will always make good music, and while this record doesn’t radically shift the formula, it reinforces their strengths: thoughtful songwriting, tight production, and seamless cohesion as a trio.

The renewed cohesion and collaboration may have saved the band during this album’s recording process, airing grievances and settling put-off tensions, but the resulting homogeny of their sound lacks real bite and feels muddied.

Mental Wounds is a spectacular display of two bands continuing to push expectations and who’re willing to be the flagbearers for revision.

It’s a classic KC album. His Scottish brogue, the bagpipes, accordion and harp all reappear for his now expected impish magic.

Post Pop Depression doesn't really sound like anything Pop's done before, yet it sounds unmistakably, naturally like an Iggy Pop album, a very good and, at its frequent best, impressively alive one, proving that what Pop really needs is a collaborator who understands how best to frame his unique talents.

The emotional gravity carried by its brevity and simplicity, a quantum leap from last year's self-titled EP, is nothing less than astounding.

An outstanding (dare I say ‘perfect’) debut.

As a whole, the album rejects traditional song structures, though the final three tracks (“Shy”, “Fade Away” and “Make Believe”) are arguably the most melodic on the record. Such a duality implies the sheer range of Diamond’s artistry, so much so that it would be criminal to label her a “new kind of popstar”. Simply put, she is a new kind of star, an artistic voice that stands out in the tumult of the modern musical world.

What sets Kiwi Jr. apart from their peers though is their madcap view of the world and Cooler Returns establishes them as a band too confident to conform; a band who have all the skills to match their lyrical smarts.

Pedestrian Verse sees Frightened Rabbit make a triumphant return to the magnificent songwriting present on their lauded second album, The Midnight Organ Fight.

While there are moments of genuine honesty and emotional clarity, these are overshadowed by Halsey’s refusal to let the music breathe.

With how much groundwork they’ve already laid, Friko can afford to conduct themselves more lightly this time, but there are promises from their introduction that we’re still waiting for.

Though many of the band's distinct hallmarks show face – heavier than ever, even – somehow their latest record sounds miraculously and hideously new, proving their aversion to any mindless repetition.

At worst, Sexwitch marks a fascinating detour in an already accomplished career. At best, it’s a creatively adventurous standalone release. In actuality, it likely falls somewhere in the middle.

He’s at his best when tracks uncoil like little vignettes, leaving small clues that pile up towards the end.

Even as another merely good Wilco album, however, Schmilco does pay plentiful dividends for listeners patient enough to discover its gradually revealed riches.

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.

It sounds like The Family was BROCKHAMPTON’s most overtly challenging album to make, saturated with honesty even when it’s difficult. But there’s a sense that going out with intention freed them up creatively like never before.

Taken on its own merits, Walking Like We Do is an unmitigated success, and a timely reminder of the simplicity of youth.

Thematically, it can seem like a little bit of a kitchen sink job in places, but there’s certainly no shortage of crushingly safe folk songwriters at present; in fact, Jurado’s disregard for convention and appetite for reinvention stick out like a sore thumb amongst the output of many of his contemporaries.

Visions of Bodies Being Burned, like its predecessor, is macabre and monstrous in all of the ways that your leering curiousity would have it. It’s a taut exploration of hatred and hostility, one which stands shoulder-to-shoulder with its demonic older brother.

In a live arena the sinister power that Restarter wields will thrill, but as a static piece it's dense beyond reason.

Driven by the same melancholy curiosity that has epitomised the band’s trajectory to date, it instead makes for a wonderfully apt ending to this particular Kinsella adventure. At least for now.

Maruja and their defiant debut record meet us at that starting point, helping us to make sense of a world gone numb, to turn numbness into feeling and fire.

While Hecker continues to be a paradigm in formulating how sound exists, he proves with Anoyo what it means to extend his means and throughout its cleansing spirit, Hecker evokes a bewitching status, serving as one of today’s continued and top creators of elysian odysseys.