Both make exclusively great records, and it’s business as usual here.

Coated in oohs, FX and distortion, the record’s production by Margo Broom (Fat White Family, Goat Girl) is rich and textured. A tight debut, ticking all the boxes; job's done.

There's a Paris, Texas feel to much of the music on offer here, but LeBlanc and super-producer Cobb have also moved from the ditch to the middle of the road for some driving rock sounds not heard since Ryan Adams last put his head above the parapet. And if there's an Adams-shaped hole in the Americana landscape at the moment, we may have just found the man to take his place.

Moments of despair are gorgeously balanced by tight, optimistic motifs that are dotted throughout the record.

Luckily, the finished product is articulate and bubbling with energy and positivity--much like Lekman himself.

This is an album that’s been made with care and intelligence. The results are compelling.

The Window is indicative of a newfound assuredness for a band which itself has stretched from a two-piece to a full foursome.

On Hive Mind, the positive impact of their time apart is quickly apparent. The opener, Come Together is mature and quietly devastating in spite of its perky rhythm, an emblem of solidarity in the face of senseless violence. There’s little else here in the way of political statements, though, to the album’s benefit.

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

An album imbued with heartfelt sentiments, both expressed and inexpressible, At the Party with My Brown Friends is at once earnest, rippling with intensity, and a refreshing summer soundtrack. It’s a colossal forward-step for BBES, but one that keeps intact, and sees Paul’s unique artistic vision flourishing.

A warm, insightful and frequently jarring record full of pain, love, curiosity and mystery.

On G_d's Pee AT STATE'S END! Godspeed has created a perfect soundtrack for these strange times.

As ever, the potent gallows humour of The Peace And Truce... derives not from flaneur-ish observation, but from direct experience.

With Drop Cherries Billie Marten has beautifully recollected a collection of intimate feelings, thoughts and sentiments, transforming them into introspective songs that are hauntingly relatable to any listener.

If You Had Seen the Bull’s Swimming Attempts You Would Have Stayed Away provides three distinct sonic variations in its first minute alone, and does not rest on its laurels from thereon out. It encapsulates O Monolith, and elevates it.

A timely and exciting collection of songs.

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.

So Much Country ‘Till We Get There is barely 15 minutes long; it is scarcely believable how much promise they’ve packed into it. Believe the hype.

It “accompanies” the film. It’s also the best part of it; a correction: Brontë’s gothica as something that clings and stains. And Charli, thoughtfully and tastefully, suffusing that stain into her continued ascendancy.

Utilising ideas of breath, space and breeze to thrilling effect, this is Björk at her most reflective and inquisitive. There are no clear cut 'hits' as such, and the album clearly begs to be enjoyed as a whole entity rather than have its innards plucked and picked at. However, if given your full attention, it will transport you to paradise.

Brick Body Kids Still Daydream offers everything you’d expect from an Open Mike Eagle album and rivals Dark Comedy for the best in his catalogue. But it’s also his most thematically coherent work yet.

Chubb’s lyrics are so sharp they could pierce the skin like a sword. Embodying the ethos of punk, All That Is Over mirrors the horrific state of humanity that the world has found itself in.

The fact she’s instead opted for a bunch of gritty, Bunker Records-inspired analogue improvisations makes the end product all the more enjoyable. Qualm is also underpinned by a peculiar sense of Britishness.

It all sounds nice enough, but it's lacking the biting insight of the best Oldham records. Luckily, the second half is a lot more contemplative, with a fascinating final triptych of moody cuts, reveling in an air of opaque imagery (less so on the final track) and campfire rumination.

Overall, Follow the Cyborg is a striking debut with both surrealist sensibilities and melodic hooks – marking Miss Grit as one to watch.

Not only are Ty Segall fans likely to be pressing this on people for the next few months, it also might be just about the best album he’s put his own name to.

It takes a few listens to even begin to peel back its multi-layered complexity. It’s a triumph, though: a dense, paranoid and phenomenally pretty exploration of post-millennial wonder that’ll keep you coming back, even as it fills the pit of your stomach with dread.

Like each of the other eight explosive and grinding grunge tracks that make up Heaven, I Feel Free works to wipe the slate clean and start afresh. Despite the ferocity, there is undoubtedly uplift woven into the very fabric of each of Heaven’s blistering tracks.