On album number two, instead of writing out a cheat sheet, they have created an enigma for you to unravel. One of dark beauty and twisting longing.

This isn’t a perfect album – far from it – but it is stylistically consistent, thematically coherent and beautifully composed.

The Good Witch is pleasant pop, a record that doesn’t feel like it’s trying too hard while still cutting with witty writing.

Despite being as zesty as it is entertaining, Feed The Beast feels compromised as it shoots for the stars.

All Her Plans spotlights the Melbourne-based band as they reach new heights, exuding love, indignation, and indomitability, the essentials of “conscious” punk circa 2023.

They haven't put all the pieces together, but the evidence suggests that Geese are still capable of laying a golden egg.

While the latter half of the record isn’t as engrossing as the first half, it still concludes with a solid trio of tunes.

Life Under The Gun is a flawed but enjoyable debut album.

Heartfelt stories such as these show – not tell; King of a Land does so in the last leg, but there’s always a nagging wonder of what the record would’ve been had it done so throughout its entirety.

Williamson’s voice, writing, and sound have all evolved leaps from her previous albums, and Time Ain’t Accidental stands tall among masterful country-pop crossover records like Speak Now or Golden Hour that made their authors superstars.

The London-based trio use corrosive riffs, candid lyrics and pop hooks to deliver their most direct statement of self-autonomy yet.

Isbell’s ninth LP is a cautious refinement rather than a reinvention for the Americana icon – and as he explores a familiar set of themes, the lyrics can sometimes feel as though they could have been directly pulled from the cutting room floor of previous studio sessions.

Joy'All ends up being a bit of everything and never establishing a clear enough character. The injection of joy is refreshing yet contrived, and all the simultaneous changes seem too big of an undertaking for her collaborators, who are not able to cultivate her sound.

Although it's great to hear the forever prodigy in a better headspace, more mature and precise with his words and emotions, it was the youthful messiness echoed in past efforts that made King Krule far more intriguing than what listeners will experience under the lingering gloom of Space Heavy.

As they continue to challenge conventions and push boundaries, while still being utterly and completely themselves, Protomartyr stand tall as a testament to the enduring spirit of innovation that defines Detroit's rich musical history.

Unwilling to finish on “14”’s vulnerability, Water From Your Eyes keep us at arm’s length, but eager to burrow deep and discover everything this album has to offer.

With an album this good, feeble little horse are bound for the winner's circle. For now, though, the grass looks plenty green right where they're standing.

Miya Folick orbits and sometimes grasps something transcendent about living through unprecedented times on ROACH.

The result is a sequence that sounds more expansive and sublimely mapped, yet perhaps less combustive, less raggedly urgent. I.e., Monolith is triumphant on its own terms.

While no wheels have been reinvented, The Show is far from a bad record. If you’ve spent any time trying to imagine what a new Niall album would sound like, you’re probably pretty close.

PARANOÏA isn’t without flaw; some tracks work more as spoken poems than as songs due to their slack, unmoving instrumentation. But at almost 100 minutes, Chris’ most astounding work yet expands his craftsmanship to territories surprisingly well-suited for him.

At only 32 minutes and housing five interludes, The Age of Pleasure is slim on ideas and music. It would be more successful if she followed the same pattern of zinging between genre and form effortlessly like on Dirty Computer, but this record largely sticks to reggae and funk, leading to a slower, more lax mood.

Sitting at ten tracks long, the amusingly titled Party Gator Purgatory whisks through freeform rap (“lookaliveandplaydead”), chilling electronics, and almost cacophonous vocals to make, what could be argued, as the most bizarrely interesting record of the 21st century.

Last Man Dancing is a party to escape to when life gets a little bit too much, and it delivers on its mission statement with abundance.

Undoubtedly Bully’s best album yet, Lucky For You is the culmination of growing up and dealing with the shit stuff; death, the world, etc. But it never wallows in the mire. Instead it jumps up, hair flying wildly, and sticks a middle finger in the air, ready to kick out the jams.

Throughout Shadow Kingdom, Dylan is found virtually savouring the sweet taste of his lyrics, applying care, precision and masterful phrasing that renders the results really quite beautiful.

It’s a record that feels like a cosy hub of creative minds reminiscing about their memories – unhurried and finely reflective. Sadly, that’s much about it.

Ironically for an album so deeply immersed in the past and the all-enveloping shadow of a famous parent, the album provides that Dury’s talents require no piggybacking on anyone else’s fame: this is the real deal.