Forty years in and Nick Cave isn't showing any signs of slowing down, if any he's got too much creativity to try and contain within this album's ten songs.

While not as sparklingly euphoric as their previous album, 2013's Fetch, their long-expected return is a collection of brazen, seering energy beams, like being hunted with a dragon’s breath shotgun in Akira’s Tokyo.

The cut-deep lyrics throughout the record paired with well-crafted sounds are sad, yet comforting. Cassyette has created an album that lyrically feels like a shoulder to cry on while sonically is an empowering outburst of rock.

An album of impeccably considered concepts championed by songwriting that refuses to let the Dublin outfit down.

Giannopoulos’ writing here has a dark intensity. But by closer Nude Descending, he has opened up to softness: 'I felt like needing your embrace'. The guitars are suddenly frolicking and playful. It’s that crack of hope that permeates the best slowcore.

A Firmer Hand is an album in which Hawk daringly takes a searchlight to the complexities of the relationships with men in his life ('friends, lovers, family, colleagues') and, by extension, to the complexities within himself. The result is dazzling.

This Is How Tomorrow Moves is a sentimental and self-aware album that, at times, is emotive and infectiously catchy. At others, it is a little too safe, a little too generic and reserved.

As ever, Lynch has crafted a strange world thick with foreboding, one that some will find inaccessible. For those willing to stay a while within it, though, there is much wonder here.

The result is a more energetic pop sound and a bright 13-track album designed for live performance. There are shades of noughties indie twee in Ozard’s conversational storytelling style.

Some of it works tremendously well. The slightly gormless swagger that propels Blue Kite meshes brilliantly with the opulent pomp of its surrounding strings, whilst Ballad of Billy has a really enjoyable surly barroom energy to it. But by the same token, the record’s move towards the anthemic is done without much subtlety, their sense of invention deserting them in the rush to get the lighters in the air.

It’s Robinson’s most intimate album yet.

The gorgeous harmonies of Threaded Dances and the irresistible groove of Pareidolia provide particular highlights. The album as a whole, meanwhile, simmers with promise as to where Izenberg might head next; quietly, here, he’s crafted one of the summer’s finest records.

LC! demonstrate once more that they are masters of drilling down into the minutiae of life, spotting the danger ahead, while remaining powerless to make better choices.

nothing or something to die for is a jaw-droppingly beautiful, immersive experience where each track melts into the next, and in a quiet room with a decent set of headphones, you’ll get lost in its dreamy, bittersweet soundscape.

Minor frustrations do present, though they are quickly dispersed. ALL SHE EVER WANTED, which feels like disposable Radio 1 fodder, transitions into HATE and DEAR IMMIGRATION, pillars of brilliance from which BERWYN confronts systems of power that engage in active oppression: moments that affirm BERWYN’s voice and salience as an important figure in British music.

Although the project offers quality in production and vocals, tracks like Roller Coaster and Bang Bang Boom fall a little flat with overly repetitive refrains. Despite some hiccups along the way, Brijean have continued to carve out their own sound through an increasing mastery of production and vocal talent. The album achieves dreaminess without sending you to sleep.

Griff’s debut album is proficient pop, polished and clean – but to the point of sterility. It needs a bit of defilement.

On the back half of the record, the production turns towards the kind of lo-fi psychedelia of Stereolab and Broadcast, Clairo embodying Trish Keenan’s detached delivery, another previously unseen aspect of her artistry she wears well. Like Sling, Charm is a grower of an album, Clairo growing with it.

If Jenkins is the poster child for anything, it’s that there’s always a place for yourself in the vastness of time and space. It’s a striking, and very human, proposition throughout the record that grief and anticipatory awe can exist as a singular emotion, in a blip on the cosmic scale; the overwhelming ego death of human self-importance and the perfect realisation of its own in-spite beauty, that love and death are on the same spectrum.

A gorgeous microcosm of sound, Love Heart Cheat Code is a perfect accompaniment for hazy summer days and nights.

Sentir que no sabes is endlessly playful, Fratti using either her cello, or some out-of-nowhere sonic texture, to constantly colour outside the lines, conjure dramatic tension, and create real emotional resonance.

There's an assurance on Um from an artist that has gained the requisite experience to release such an accomplished debut.

As some similar-sounding songs morph into the other, we can sometimes feel the narrow scope of 9 Sad Symphonies, but Nash charms with the winning, irreverent bluntness first employed in her vaunted debut, showing received pronunciation the proverbial finger.

Nueen’s understated drill elements bring a benevolent, tense space that Iceboy Violet has complemented with their lyrical expanse.

While there are some tracks that feel distinctly like filler, there's more than enough substance on Why Lawd? to justify the price of admission. Let's hope we don't have to wait another eight years for this duo to get together again.

Like any good night out Fine Art has its ups and downs, it can be deep, it can be controversial, but in the long run, it's a good laugh and a thumping good time.

Statik is muted to the point of silence. It’s hard to truly warm to a record that, while often morosely pretty, feels like it struggles to say much beyond a defeated sigh.

There’s pressure to satisfy. Largely, it does – especially when there’s a spark with his songwriting partners. Rochelle Jordan brings heat to her pair of dancefloor-ready offerings. Still, with Charlotte Day Wilson, balances polish and raw performance. KAYTRANADA gets fantastic performances out of Anderson .Paak and Childish Gambino, who are given extravagant tracks to work with. Other moments are stilted.

An earnest but keenly self-aware synchronisation of Gou’s ‘eyes on the Top 40’ dance music with an artistry that is both curious and willing.

BRAT comes together in a genius way; it's literary, musically complex and somehow effortless. Not to mention, perfectly suited for when you need to cry at the club.

There's a lot to take in across the breadth of Below the Waste, but few could doubt the ecstatic creativity of this trio and their ability to take so many old parts and create something new.

Despite being the biggest shift in her sound so far, Khan's silken touch is such that Delphi feels like a congruous and joyful addition to her oeuvre, proof of her claim that motherhood helped her tap into a previously unknown well of creativity.

When Campbell does make bold sonic choices, such as on the spacey centrepiece Dopamine, you yearn for more of that, and less of the interchangeably delicate instrumentals on many of the other songs. Still, Campbell’s voice remains a welcome balm in terms of both sound and messaging.

Even more impressive are the melodies that stand out above all of the intricacy, making for an album that’s not only fun, but acutely detailed and instantly memorable. Exactly As It Seems is a beautifully peculiar, joy-inducing triumph.

From the John Barry-esque orchestration of Reaching Out, to Talk Talk’s Lee Harris’s febrile percussion on Rewind, the album is full of richly detailed arrangements that allow Gibbons to free herself from the pull of Portishead’s past.

The trio of discs add up to a surprisingly tight record, a superb summary of Cook’s work to date, and a thrilling pointer to where the future may lead.

You Won't Go Before You're Supposed To exhibits a group confidently at their zenith with no signs of slowing down. Many predicted this could be the heavy release of the year – and it’s bloody hard to argue with that.

It’s at times a frustrating listen – just as a flow appears, dark, ominous vignettes (Joyrider, Predator) shatter the illusion. Eventually, reward arrives. Carrying you through the epic collage of Round the World is McMahon’s anchor of a voice, proving there’s beauty to be found in the disquiet.

What follows is a 14-track reintroduction to everything that makes Les Savy Fav so unique: tightly-knit duelling guitars, an impactful rhythm section and frontman Tim Harrington's vociferous delivery and wordplay. Legendary Tippers is full of the ironic swagger we've come to expect, while Don't Mind Me finds room for rare vulnerability

Chinouriri siphons every good idea from her previous EPs and evolves them into great ones; hits we saw in the prophecy fulfilled in the present. It also contains what should be referred to as ‘good-ole-fashioned-pacing’: front-load with hits, dip for a few ballads, repeat with an uproarious middle section, and coast off with acoustics.

Name Your Sorrow sees band-wide experimentation, instrument swapping, and post-production revision, resulting in a colourful, varied record.

On this latest opus, Washington and company are a tightened-drum of an ensemble that effortlessly flit between an intense focus and a playful freedom, and the results are stunning.

It’s testament to Clark’s self-assured and enigmatic oeuvre: indeed, she still holds surprises for us yet.

Justice may have struggled to reach the dizzying heights of their 2007 debut Cross, but Hyperdrama is a convincing, exciting venture in its own right.

These nine tracks prioritise serenity and beauty in their evocation of some unknowable beyond. Their sparkle can become almost too perfect, which makes the dark abruptness of the last two pieces feel like release, even if they throw its general hopefulness into uncertainty.

Every track on sentiment feels like a late-night phone call from a close friend; when the album stops, you find yourself missing the voice on the other end.

If I don't make it, I love u is magnificent, the peak of their recorded output to date, the sound of a band solidifying and pushing forward into something genuinely their own. A truly brilliant piece of work.

Unfortunately, it seems like the record's runtime was set before material was allotted to the space, unleashing a high-octane sugar rush in a space fit to dilute it into the unbearableness of being palatable. There are worse things.

This debut comes from immense, fruitful collaboration. A collaboration between beings, instruments, melodies and spaces that offer room to listen, reflect and become.

It's a sage document precisely because it embraces that which can’t be figured out: what life has next in store.

This debut LP sees English Teacher beginning to consolidate and take the already-delicious sounds introduced on their Polyawkward EP to even greater heights.

Sunshine in music form, A LA SALA is another stellar addition to Khruangbin’s blissful repertoire.

Hope is the longest VW song ever at eight minutes, but it never meanders despite its repetition. Instead it points toward the restless creativity that the band have never lacked, and that Only God Was Above Us demonstrates all too clearly.

A timely and exciting collection of songs.

Throughout, Jlin's command over rhythm and texture make what could be too impenetrable a blast to hear.

It’s an album that worms its way into you, slowly revealing more and more of itself with each listen, layers of intricacies shifting beneath its drifting beauty.

Real Power is a lot of fun, though at points it seems to sacrifice bite in favour of a certain kind of generic polish.

Rodriquez’s most cohesive and ambitious work to date.

She can’t do any wrong at the minute; this is timeless songwriting, and Tigers Blood is a worthy successor to Saint Cloud.

Bright Future provides exactly that: a run of songs that captivates in plentiful colour.

Perhaps this new album doesn’t match the immediate wow factor of Whack World – few albums ever could – but regardless, we should be thankful Tierra Whack is out there doing her thing; making mainstream hip-hop interesting.

The Great Bailout, while resting handily within her trademark virulent atmospheres and spoken word, is among her most impenetrable and least entertaining from a practical sense. This is not a fault of the record, but a necessary and expected byproduct of its existence, as each track runs up to ten minutes in a dirge of menacing poetry with instrumentals more evocative of a sinister mood-piece than a traditional song

Gordon manages to hit that sweet spot, creating an album that is adventurous, charmingly deadpan and visceral at every turn.

While Glasgow Eyes is no Psychocandy, it is without doubt a true-to-form The Jesus and Mary Chain album and, for that reason alone, worth the listen.

Down By the Stream discusses bullying and abuse, while Blackpool Illuminations is a seven-minute track about Smith’s childhood at the iconic event. It’s structures like Where’s My Utopia? that make an album stand out, as does its sense of hope and perseverance, with the overall message that one’s struggles and emotions are valid.

The band’s excellent 2019 record Patience was full of self-flagellation, guttural outpouring and railing against abuse and injustice, but it ended on the hopeful budding of new love, a journey of breakdown and renewal. They continue on this record to wrap up extreme emotion in sonic confection.

The back half loses steam a little, but even mediocre RE is well-written and easy to enjoy. Victoria is an Alex Bleeker-led song with a bit of pedal steel twang, Airdrop throws in some synth and Freeze Brain has bongos for some reason. But these little affectations rarely distract from the uniformly gorgeous arrangements.

There's an ever-growing sense that Segarra is in a class above in terms of poignant lyricism and emotive performance – The Past Is Still Alive reaffirms this in spades.

It’s varied, it’s vibrant, it’s wacky, it’s experiential. Loss of Life, contrary to its title, is brimming with the stuff and serves as unmistakable evidence of MGMT’s continued renaissance.

It’s a record that sees Doyle take chances, not all of which pay off by any means, but it is one that never truly coalesces into a great album in the way his last two records have. That said, he remains a figure who is always interesting and developing.

In the main, Blu Wav is Grandaddy’s most grounded album yet, a triumph of reinvention.

One More Thing is the product of an accomplished band noodling around in the studio. There's a playfulness and creativity here that promises bigger and better things from the Brighton four-piece in the future. As far as debut albums go, this is a promising one.

A raucous expression of love, TANGK is raw, vulnerable and inimitably IDLES.

Resigning itself to well-trodden paths, Venus seems curiously content charting no new territory.

The cumulative effect is sublime and will leave even the most agnostic listener in a state of transcendental bliss.

It's yet another successful reinvention from the Californian artist who continues to be an impenetrable force, laying herself bare and rebuilding for all to see and hear.

PHASOR is a rich and absorbing record that truly transports; placing the listener in a languid, half-lit morning where you’re never quite asleep and never fully awake.

These writers are resurrecting a long lost art in popular music – using big sounds, with indulgent lyrics, crafting a listening experience so rich it borders on hedonism. Some records are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and few to be chewed and digested. We’re still digesting Prelude to Ecstasy.

While this is an exciting new style for the band, the album could have benefited from more of the stripped-back moments that we hear in the likes of America. In the opening and closing songs of the album, we’re reminded why Courting are such a captivating band but New Last Name, while fun and energetic, sadly fails to match the impact and charm of their debut.

For a band at this stage in their career, Blood, Hair, and Eyeballs is a surprisingly solid return. Die-hard fans will love it regardless, but if you haven’t checked in with AK3 for a while – now's the time. They still have their spark.

He can still shred with the best of them (Wait, Hi Dee Dee, Watcher), but across this hour-plus album he revels in upending expectations, whether through abrupt tonal shifts (To You's new age synth excursions, Void's trippy synth hits), fried-metal no-wave (The Bell), or even a regular rocker that could pass for early Radiohead (Reflections).

A hint of musical theatre elsewhere sees the record lose some of its bite, but in general it’s a robust rejoinder to some of the more depthless musicality of soul-baring, 'authentic', indie-rock. Kirby is instead funny, scathing and full of clarity about her personal epiphanies.

Throughout, the group's tried-and-true, gleaming synth-pop palette is flecked with fresh sonic ambition, particularly on slow-burning epics Corner of My Eye and The Sickness. At the centre of it all remains Herring’s fabulously expressive voice, tailor-made to spin tales of heartache.

Wall of Eyes is a kaleidoscopic, mind-altering pronouncement: The Smile are not a band of their component parts, not echoes of their previous ventures. They are something exciting, ambitious, and genuinely brilliant; a sentiment delivered so resoundingly by their work here that it will leave your ears ringing.

The resulting album, Saviors, is a hugely entertaining return to form, with some of the seminal American rockers' best music in decades.

Sleater-Kinney’s decade-spanning songwriting style feels the same. Give us the electrifying assault and brutal guitar tones to fill those tiny cracks now present in our hearts. Give us a little more rope.

There is an attractive simplicity to this record, perhaps the band’s most straightforward since their debut. These are catchy feelings-forward songs with football chant-worthy choruses. It is, quite simply, an album full of singles.

Orquídeas is a display of bravura. Between Kali Uchis’ plurality of sound, empowered directives, and dance-inducing hypnosis – this is an entire album of sweet spots.

Big Sigh's strength is in not holding back from confronting darker feelings, and revelling in the raw honesty of experiencing them.

There is a timeless and timely feel to these tunes and it sounds as if something stately is stirring in West Kirby. Good health, indeed.

Cheerfully melodic, you’d be forgiven for not noticing the dark biblical story it retells – of assault, abandonment, fear and faith. These themes persist across this sparse diaristic record, coming to the fore on the grungy, vulnerable Don’t Kiss Me. Surprises, too, sees Zeitsch reckon with how mundanely a life can be altered.

The queen of Dollywood has more than earned her place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with this stupidly fun and over-the-top love letter to the genre.

Ultimately, it's a collection of well-written and well-presented songs, though at this point the familiarity with the Condon style feels expected, and the few new tweaks aren't quite enough to raise Hadsel above a middling Beirut album.

Packed with irresistible hooks and confessional lyrics, you'll find her best songs to date here; it's clear that Baby Queen understands the cinema of pop music.

At times, these eccentric – and often downright baffling – transitions in style and tone can be disorienting, but they also speak to Cunningham’s dexterity as an electronic auteur, and his refusal to play by the rules.

A triumph for Anderson, it's a more than worthy addition to his extensive and revered body of work; after over a hundred albums, his reign as king is as secure as ever.

Various guest features add further depth and despite many of the mixes being made in a day, this beautifully weird mish-mash of sounds succeeds in inviting listeners further into the depths of Jockstrap’s experimental world.

This is probably one for Veirs purists, but such is the standard of her songwriting that even among these sketches, there’s some real gems to be found.