Each track will commit to Whack’s usual first minute, but suspiciously lingers on, sometimes embellishing an idea and other times letting the same moment marinate on repeat. This often does little to diminish the power of each particular song, but on the macro-level, the record is still a collection of fleeting snapshots, albeit with high resolution and long-term fidelity.

Despite the occasional lack of captivating subject matter, it signifies a grown woman embracing new beginnings. The grim clouds are already clearing towards the finale – a million little stars bursting, fluttering, ready for more grandeur.

There are a number of highlights on the record, but “supernatural” is the shining star. .... There’s also moments that don’t quite hit where they should, with “true story” and “i wish i hated you” being perfectly nice but lacklustre or simple in their writing.

Jones places a premium on tonal variance and equilibrium throughout Visions; it’s a wise chess move, ensuring an absorbing listen with every spin.

Her eye for her own artistic point of view has never been sharper. The rest of the record is an equally thrilling ride.

It’s a wonderfully strange, dense, and visceral album that finds solace in uncanny experimentalism.

Bleachers would have felt more complete if their signature goofiness prominent in the upbeat production had seeped into more tracks. Despite some occasionally affecting lines, songwriting isn’t their forte; instrumentation is.

Each sound is lovingly wound up and left to tick away in the groove, a feat accomplished few times this side of LCD Soundsystem. Most impressive, however, is that this is just a damn fine collection of material.

Mass appeal might be the only thing missing, perhaps not possible for a band that has to asterisk their name sometimes. It’s not stopped them from perfecting their place in vibrant scenes that have scaled to wider appreciation, and with I Got Heaven now in the back pocket, few groups deserve a share of the limelight more.

Where does Mountainhead stand in their canon? Only prolonged exposure will tell, but one thing is beyond doubt; it’s the best concept album you will hear all year about a subjugated society literally digging a hole that takes them further away from those at the top of the heap.

Amidst the unexpected twists in its production, Webster still retains a strong narrative voice throughout, her intentions unfolding with each new line.

The entire EP clocks in at just under 15 minutes. Despite this, this has ensured quality over quantity and makes up for the potential disappointment felt by listeners due to Club Shy’s speedy turnaround. The synths are fat, Shygirl’s voice steps into places she rarely visits, and it's absolutely everything you could want from a Shygirl club cut, soaring as it takes a victory lap around what has played prior.

Still is somewhat of a step forward for the alt-R&B star, but often loses its way with repetitive songwriting and a lack of shine; its stillness might be too lax an angle.

With Filthy Underneath, Shah doesn’t necessarily reinvent herself, though she certainly recommits to honesty, vulnerability, and stepping out of comfort zones, all the while documenting an important self-initiation.

The Past Is Still Alive is a remarkable album, one which achieves the impossible trick of capturing the mood of a nation and a vivid portrait of a single fascinating person – all within one gorgeous stew.

If Cape God felt like Hughes beginning to create her own universe, Girl with No Face marks her apotheosis as her deity. Still sleeping on Allie X? It’s time to wake up: her spaceship has truly landed.

Adult Contemporary is a whole lot of fun, and furthers Chromeo’s mission to take the seriousness out of modern day music. Chromeo’s trajectory remains in tact with this release, and shows that funk truly never goes out of style.

Weird Faith toys with the emotional cohesion of Diaz’s best work, resulting in an album whose sum is only the value of its parts.

Larsson knows her strengths, but she knows them too well. If she could only break down the facade further and reach beyond her comfort zone to meet the listener halfway, she would be unstoppable.

If the band are looking for a platform to build on, this could well be it.

Daniel shows potential for Real Estate to take their music to the next level and in a way, that’s both its biggest plus and greatest minus.

Structureless, vindicating and yet jarring in moments, Two Star & The Dream Police is the sound of Mk.gee taking ownership of the musical world he’s been building for years.

It’s a stylish swerve dipping into luxurious large-scale arrangements with woodwind flourishes, haunting lullabies and even “20% adult contemporary”, showcasing their breadth of influence and genre play across ten tracks with more scope than ever.

GRIP is stylish and moving, yet lacks a sense of provocation.

There's a lot to like here. "Bucky, Boris and Dent" aren't long for this world, but their memory lives on thanks to the song's chipper melody. It's just that a good chunk of the tracklist unfolds along a steady procession of waltzes. They're all gorgeous, too, smooth and shiny as a commemorative dinner plate. The spacey interludes will keep you on your toes, but anyone who's looking for a hoedown might get bored in a hurry.

TANGK adds something else to the conversation. A level of fragility that has not yet been displayed by IDLES, it is an album that swaps brash vocals with more tender notes. Love is the thing, and it seems like it is here to stay.

This stunningly ambitious yet surprisingly restrained album is a personal inspection of Declan’s current life, putting politics (mostly) aside and abandoning grandeur to think about himself for a minute, gifting listeners a vessel for empathy along the way.

When compared to the mixing and progression of the original, it presents the same odd feeling for the same old record: you can see one of the greatest records of the 70s held captive by a spare mistake here and there. Held together, the original and its remixes could be pieced into Band on the Run’s finest hour.