It’s a raw, cathartic, but incredibly gentle record that pushes through personal boundaries, and wonderfully reiterates the fact that it’s okay to be alone (even if you’re sleeping with your “key in the door.”)

Overall, it’s clear that King Gizz’s tireless effort over the past 8 years still has no end in sight as they release yet another radical and innovative album which doesn’t fall short of the endless inspiration that King Gizzard continue to shine.

Whether due to the pandemic or not, Contender however suffers from a lack of consistency mirroring the context in which it was created. Despite nuanced shifts in their sound, the blueprint remains much the same.

Even in the few moments of weak songwriting or flagging energy, the band sounds powerful and unapologetic. Bad Waitress revels in that power, fusing wiry punk thrills, tangled interlocking instrumentals, and alluring acerbic charms with their debut.

Always Inside Your Head is a dizzying blend of the old, balanced artfully with the achingly new.

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”.

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.

Tidal Memory Exo is overwhelming, detailed, textured, and wildly bottom-loaded, but then it continues.

You can’t help but to admire Gavin’s inescapably raw approach to this project. Sheer honesty is burrowed into every line, sometimes even at the cost of lyrical flow.

It’s so unrestrained that it sometimes loses its grip, condensing several albums worth of ideas into a single project that isn’t quite as compelling as the sum of its parts, the sum of its collaborators, or the sum of its energy.

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

Almost inevitably, the result is something that makes most commercial music look like a palid, indistinct, homogenous mass.

Tedious genre classification aside, it’s a fascinating record that begs softly for closer inspection and possibly even adoration.

Fibs is thrilling because it doesn’t adhere to the usual. A freewheeling, freethinking treat for the senses which reveals a musician at the height of her powers.

The uneven narrative is often jarring, but as an attempt to put a modern spin on old-time rock and roll, Liberation! hits more than it misses.

Every Open Eye is full of epic singles that reverberate dizzingly around the head.

Fans of Oldham pre-BPB will be presented with a wealth of nuance and points of comparison, though first-time listeners would likely be alienated by its understated sound and self-referential motifs.

The vast bulk--and on an album as thick with ideas as this, vast is the operative word--of Furfour is a masterclass in modern psychedelia, experimental enough to satiate the genre’s connoisseurs yet fluid and welcoming enough to be accessed by audiences from across the popular music spectrum.

The Shadow I Remember suggests something is incomplete, the band failing to consistently scale the heights capable at their gut-punching best.

A record that is as self-aware of the pressures of romance and stardom as it is a bare, naked representation of the singer’s heart and soul.

Atomic doesn’t quite hit the heights of their greatest soundtrack successes, but as a further document of a restlessly inventive band constantly tweaking their sound, it’s well worth approaching with open ears.

They’re sounds we’ve all heard before but done spectacularly.

The best moments of the album work by adding a more considered approach to material that, in the wrong hands, could sound slapdash. However, the albums least remarkable moments are plodding at best and mawkish at worst.

Even with their most straight-ahead record to date, GBV still show that they’re capable of surprises, and no matter how much more they release in the next [insert arbitrary period of time here], will always be worth following.

Power is a rampaging success at being theatrical, dramatic, grandiose and, simultaneously, tasteful.

While it might sometimes lose that heart, when it rediscovers its path again, it becomes an incredibly immersive and exciting album.

Ultimately In Amber demonstrates an unexpected mastery of dance floor inflected, gothic-folk tinged, post punk, driven by raw feeling and humanity. With topics as grave, the fact these songs only occasionally teeter on the hazardous borderline where meaning meets portentention is a mark of the sheer skill of those involved.

As the tracks ebb and flow, the record provides the perfect accompaniment to the current heatwave we're all struggling to survive. Santigold has dropped this full-length artefact at exactly the right time, and she deserves all the recognition she gets.