SUGAREGG is not without its moments of doubt and misfires. Regardless, it’s a product of its context, an artefact indicative of a change in intent and perspective by its creator. It’s a product full of joy, not maddening, but genuinely uplifting and encouraging. It’s also the best thing Bognanno has written.

Most albums would capsize under weight of a colossus like “Defeat”, a seamless combination of disembodied, sweet yet wounded underwater harmonies, drone-fueled introspection and outbreaks of mellow yet exuberant rhythmic mantras (which echo the Grateful Dead at their most joyously lively) that doesn’t waste a second despite its marathon 22-minute duration. However, the rest of Isn’t It Now? lives up to the outsized expectations created by its centrepiece.

Sometimes the electricity is there, and when it is it connects deeply, but when it doesn't it's hard to see past the banality of its structure.

If Half-Light feels a touch scattershot, it’s likely because it’s the result of years of his creative energy being pent-up on the road with the band when he’d have much rather been at home in the studio, and it doesn’t dilute the emotional resonance of his best lyrics here, which are a world away from the coy collegiate that Koenig presents as.

It’s thirty five years of dance music history wrapped up in a glorious fifty minutes and with Whang at the helm, it’s encased with an icy sheen, impossible to resist.

International is a sign of gradual progression for Lust For Youth; there’s occasional backward looks by Norrvide, but slowly and surely this music is stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

A casual dance music fan may find the lack of variety in terms of tempo somewhat cumbersome, but if you look at this through the prism of Honey Dijon as a DJ it makes total sense.

Even when tracks are slowed down, momentum is kept up through classic, subtle funk elements and hints of gospel-music playing behind.

At times it makes the album feel like a compilation of great lost No Wave acts, but when it all clicks together like on the blistering, agit-hardcore blast "They Know", Deaf Wish are a mighty force.

The Don of Diamond Dreams has plenty of mass appeal regardless of its unconventional style, but still Butler entices us just enough by adding bits of flair to its top tracks.

While there’s no memorable poppy chorus here, or lush, full-band arrangements, or zany quirkiness, Hyperspace is nevertheless totally Beck: an experiment in broadening his own horizons, trying something new, which yet again just so happens to sound quite refreshing. It’s a worthy addition to this musical chameleon’s catalogue.

LP.8 is certainly roomier than Owens’ previous work. More directed at dedicated dance-heads, more suited to the durgy decrepitude of basement dancefloors, and more abstract in its approach. But LP.8 provides further evidence that Kelly Lee Owens operates in a field entirely of her own.

Her trademark confidence is now tinged with a newfound self-awareness, as if evolving through her experience of the joys and pitfalls of celebrity. ... Surprisingly, the standout track from the record, “Crying in the Car”, is a diorama of nostalgia, melancholy and faith, counterbalancing Megan’s overall ethos of optimistic self-empowerment. ... For listeners, it makes a strong case for the rapper’s longevity within the increasingly fickle world of music.

Overall this record feels like a pocket in time and the breeze of nostalgia is welcome in parts but is wholly unsatisfying.

Pearl Mystic is a promising debut from Hookworms, but whether it’s universally appealing is impugnable--there’s a suspicion that accessibility is not exactly on the top of Hookworms’ priorities; instead making interesting, immersive music to get lost in clearly is.

By turns infuriating and intoxicating, but swaying strongly in favour of the latter, Little Sand Box ultimately suggests that maybe those promoters were in the wrong after all back in 1991.

On Wild Crush, Archie Bronson Outfit deliver a record which feels as organic and honest as all of their previous releases, but it has a little something extra about it.

Although not a million miles away from what we’ve heard of Johns before, with Adams’ help this release has captured a moment in time between the two artists that speaks volumes.

Throughout, the refreshed use of light and dark is notable and works. There is contrast and there is colour.

Golden Eagle is a wonderful collection of songs and tales that ultimately find a sense of redemption. Over its ten songs Macve displays an innate talent for exquisite songwriting and storytelling in a voice that is just jaw-dropping.

It’s soppy in the right amount, but it captures the humour and truth in trying to make it through that quarter-life crisis. While it might never really reach the dizzying heights of Alvvays, it still shows the band head and shoulders above the rest.

A masterclass in how to show exploration while never straying from the beaten path, Miranda is a mind most should look to. Rich in melody and promise, she leaves no stone unturned on her journey to the centre of the musical earth.

Perhaps the only disappointing thing about Highway Hypnosis is its brevity, with not one song reaching over the three minute mark. You could see this as a failure to let the songs truly fly, but, regardless, it ensures the LP's selection of knock-out tracks gets stuck on repeat--a selection that's arguably her finest to date.

As the band continue to explore the elements of shoegaze, jazz-melodies and saccharine pop at the edges of their well-worn indie-rock, Happyness find themselves back in top form and ready to reach out once more into a chaotic unknown.

Songwriting of this quality, with powers of suggestion and intimations of doubt, deserves an audience well beyond the historically-inclined.

Lacking in the upbeat indie of his debut Dear, or the powerful emotional outbursts clustered in Birthdays, Monument is a heavy, but truly worthwhile, listen.

Viewed on its own, the often captivating Black Stallion is an effective electronic record.

What it undoubtedly is however is a tentative sidestep, keeping one foot firmly in New York post-punk while allowing the other to wander towards sunnier, more refined pastures. An alternative route that, while not always trodden in style, Palberta have nevertheless proven they’re more than adept at taking.