The result is a sparkling pop effort, with Campbell bringing copious quantities of the old Obscura glitz to the likes of the swooningly romantic It Can’t Be Love Unless It Hurts, the jazzy Home & Dry and, most poignantly, to the undiluted Americana of Alabama, a direct tribute to Lander.

There’s no sniff of second album syndrome here. moisturizer oozes confidence and Wet Leg continue to play to their strengths in style.

Everything that grooves here (over half the album, which clocks in at 19 tracks) is great and makes you want to see the band live. The rub? Making a New World is a song cycle about the after-effects of the First World War.

It’s funnier, weirder, and plays with a more colourful blend of Americana. It also reveals more depth and ambition.

Compared to Tillman’s previous releases as Father John Misty, Chloë and the Next 20th Century feels like an immense achievement musically, while not wholly dropping the cynical and whimsical elements of his songwriting.

This album could easily have been wrapped up in misery and the trope of the tortured artist, but instead it’s a pleasure to hear Tamko stepping bravely into a happy place.

The Caretaker is not for the fainthearted, nor is it designed to be background music: it demands to keep your full and undivided attention.

While this may not be the most cohesive record that Spoon have ever produced, it is one brimming with ideas (one might say overflowing), and serves as testament that more than 20 years into their career this is still a band with plenty to say.

It’s a creative, energised exploration of the power of both the human voice and electronic music to move us.

This is an album swimming with inventiveness, quality and variety: it’s good to have her back.

Thank Me Later and Burning Bridges both wade through the sentiment of leaving on a high rather than trying to scale a sinking ship. While feel-good anthem Mirror is the body confidence balm we all need a dash of this summer. The record isn’t all righteous pop bangers though. There are some tear-jerking numbers that even Adele would be proud of (see: Last To Know and High Note).

The Attachment Theory highlight fascinating new aspects to Van Etten's craft, like the reflective prisms of precious stone. What is lost in cohesion is made up for by an exploratory freedom that the band revel in, hopping from wistful to explosive to triumphant.

Gracefully distilling a profusion of self-loathing, Javelin is a heartsick high. No one yearns like Sufjan Stevens.

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.

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.

As ever with Nightmares on Wax, Evelyn melds past and present with enviable fluidity, finding a universality that’s inclusive rather than generic.

The album may not be more than the sum of its parts, but thankfully those parts are packed full of enough weird and wonderful sounds to ensure another excellent Fever Ray album.

Every Valley is lush and symphonic, more interested in expressing the human spirit of the mining communities than aestheticising the conditions in which they toiled.

Slow Air takes time to process as we reflect on the musical journey we've been on, it's an escapist dream which can only offer more to the imagination with every listen.

On Pirouette Model/Actriz continue their tightrope walk over chaos and introspection, desire and vulnerability, with camp aplomb. Another vital record from a trailblazing band.

This is intelligent party music, but it’s also headphone listening. Production is manic and plays at an attention deficit (though really these songs are crafted with a mandala-concentration, rich in samples, styles, and sonic layering).

The band consistently reward close listening with little treasures, like on Echo, where a deceptively barebones instrumental is coloured with keys that decay slightly differently every few seconds, and bass that uses flourishes so understated they’re basically subconscious. That’s to say nothing of the songwriting, which is as catchy and uncool as ever.

The songs are resonant and cleverly unhurried--the group aren’t afraid to sit in silence, letting a feeling wash over the listener for a beat before continuing their story.

Manning Fireworks is polished and lean, and it’s not unfair to wonder if the record is an attempt to capitalise on Lenderman’s sudden popularity. It’s front-loaded with his best work – funny songs about sad acts and disappointment.

A meditative body of work specked with spots of boldness, Secret Measure weaves new colours into Cloth’s musical fabric.

There is a lot going on in PARANOÏA, ANGELS, TRUE LOVE and yet it remains remarkably cohesive. It skilfully borrows and elevates.

The results are certainly a departure for an artist who seems to relish the chance to collaborate and while each of these ten songs is a Roberts original, the lush song craft recalls the golden age of electric folksters like Fairport Convention and Trees, ensuring Roberts' ongoing connection with the past.

Lunice wisely gives ample room to his collaborators. As impressive as the beats are in their complexity, a special mention is necessary for the MCs who deftly weave words in between Lunice’s polyrhythms.