A record [that] gleefully skips through genres without ever missing a beat, Jamie T’s fourth effort is a genuinely magnificent album that surpasses anything else in his discography with consummate ease. He simply hasn’t missed a trick.

Real’s stew of unabashed honesty, townie bar arena rock muscle, and uncomplicated discussion of life’s and love’s complications feels just like home. It doesn’t get any realer than that.

Blonde is a work of art that will stick with us all for way longer than four short years.

The last memory of How To Be A Human Being is pure brilliance, and you're forced to revisit the record every chance you get. Each listen reveals more, scrapes back another layer. You'll get more and feel more each time you hit play.

The Veils are specialists in a songcraft where the traditional is aided by the current in order to explore new sonic realms. The album, which took nearly two years to take shape, is delicately spun rather than cobbled together, and makes for treasured listening.

This incarnation of The Album Leaf asserts the resilience that has always held up their sentimental exterior.

Removed from the narrative of the series itself, every emotion is given the space to take its own form – and the result is as mysteriously powerful as the world that it hails from.

Mangy Love is a terrific, bizarre album made up of familiar parts rearranged into something new, unfamiliar, and offbeat.

High Anxiety could have been reduced to its 12 most essential tracks and been a bit better suited for more invested listening, but perhaps Green's goal was to give himself as much room as possible to experiment, and he certainly does so here.

There are real signs of musical development on Sremmurd 2 that point to longevity for the duo.

Ultimately, it may not dramatically change their fortunes, but it remaina an album that’ll help further cement Cold Pumas as being one of the UK’s most underrated bands.

There are certainly more strong points than weak points to be concentrated on here. All the tracks that centre around Posdnuos, Trugoy and Maseo see De La Soul at full strength with their rhymes as sharp and playful but seemingly wiser than ever before.

One of the most infectious collections of pop songs written on an electric guitar this year.

None of the tracks are bad per se. But they lack something that the first tastes promised, and so pieced together it feels like the debut is not worth more than the sum of its parts.

At best, it suggests that Crystal Castles are entering a more mellow and accessible phase in their career, potentially welcoming new fans, and at worst, it suggests that Crystal Castles have lost the bite that made them so exhilarating in the first place.

This is a lovely record, prettily arranged and carried off with assurance, but it’s ultimately very difficult to escape the feeling that the real aim here was to deliver something of slow-cooked profundity.

Capturing the sound of a fearsome live reputation on record can be daunting for band making their debut record, but here the Madrid trio sound truly fearless.

Jumping the Shark, with its clear central premise and limited musical palate, is inherently niche, but if you find yourself intrigued by his storytelling Cameron won’t need any gimmicks to keep you invested.

The poppier efforts here don’t quite puncture the atmosphere that the band have worked so hard to cultivate elsewhere, but they’re hardly necessary either.

Scott Walker is more interested in moving forward than looking back and with the soundtrack to The Childhood of a Leader his music is as unique as ever.

Coomes wouldn't have the length career he's had if he wasn't a gifted songwriter, and hopefully if he puts out another solo album he can find a better balance between good weird and gratuitous weird.

In Moon Saloon, Arc Iris have served us an album entirely unconcerned with nascent fads and just as heavy on challenge as it is reward.

Golden Sings That Have Been Sung manages to catch the restlessly churning, improvisatory lightning of Walker's live shows in the studio, whilst wisely cutting out any idling that could grate in home listening.

It’s not a massive reinvention and it does generally lack the constant flow of melody that makes their previous work so irresistible. Having said that, they sit on the proverbial psychedelic throne for a reason; they’re trendsetters not copycats.

With nary a crack across the entire album, Bonar’s weaving of multiple indie rock subgenres--alt-country, dream pop, punk--is tight as it gets, yet she and her band consistently retain an air of restlessness across the album.

Though the album isn’t an entreaty for mass acceptance, Tobacco’s music does sound increasingly comfortable in its stitched-up skin.

Despite Hypercaffium Spazzinate feeling as referential as it does, it's surprising that there's nothing obviously referencing ALL, the attitude and mantra that populated some of their earlier records. The sentiment is there however, it's rooted in the record, its sheer energy, and the attention which has gone in to making it.

25 25 slithers through the auditory canal, hypnotising and beguiling the listener, before finally ensnaring those who choose to listen.