Ace manages not to overwhelm its simply lovely melodies under sweeping layers of orchestration. With moments of sheer, sunlit beauty unfolding unexpectedly among the churning winds, Madison Cunningham shows us it’s well worth weathering the storm.

The record proves to be slightly more interesting in its lyrical content than its musical content, but that’s more a compliment than a dig. It plays the softer than silk, pseudo-gospel rock style of boygenius with heart and emphatically hits every pacing beat on its checklist.

Bark Your Head Off, Dog is another great Hop Along album, intimate and grand in a way only few can do.

If you’re looking for another Bros or Good Girl / Carrots, it ain’t here. What there is, ten tracks co-produced with Animal Collective bandmate Josh Dibb, is worth celebrating. These are meticulously crafted songs performed by one of modern music’s most distinguished vocalists.

Witty, odd and carefully drawn, Woolhouse nails whimsy without once hitting twee.

It’s Johnson’s voice that takes centre stage, however (clear, plaintive and inviting, as though the ghost of Grant McLennan had dropped by to give some pointers), and as he explores the concept of closure through relationship breakdowns--painting the very notion as mythical, unattainable--you ponder why the time is apparently right for Piano Magic to call it quits.

Ultimately IV is Part Chimp 101--a righteous addition to their canon whether a newcomer or long-time devotee.

There are curve balls--Rise sounds like The Lighthouse Family (!); Leatherette like an outtake from Madonna's Ray of Light--but this is business as usual for Gilmore: great lyrics, good melodies and production chasing today's radio. But you can't help feeling there’s still a great album to come from her.

The album caters for all – there are heavy tracks for hardcore fans and songs with a more approachable indie feel for those who need a gentle introduction to the ways of the Wolf. So sit back, relax and scream to your hearts content.

In lesser hands, it might come off as an overwrought and incongruous addendum, but the piccolo and flugelhorn, rolling funk and string quartet that have peppered the album demonstrate that the band aren't simply flirting with new directions, but wholeheartedly embracing them.

Damned Devotion is not an album you can play once and get a grip on. She remains sultry, she remains a late night proposition; this is music geared for the come down, but for all that there is reinvigoration here.

Dead Magic, though, is utterly derivative of the very few albums in this genre ever to succeed, and lacks all of their spark and life. Above all else it is unbearably, irredeemably boring.

Compared to some of their previous works, it’s an album that also feels somewhat gloomy with Isaiah Barr’s thoughts on issues such as gentrification and eviction distilled into dark and often murky compositions. ... Despite this, Lower East Suite Part Three still manages to capture contemporary urban discord.

In a still monochromatic genre, Mother of My Children presents a vital, bold debut and, hopefully, a sign of further change to come.

It’s an album that’s at times danceable and at others meditative, but always filled with emotional honesty.

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.

Overall, The Bad Fire proves this legendary group can still produce moving, intelligent and vital work even as they embark on their fourth decade. As their lockdown-inspired success proved, Mogwai remain a guiding light in dark, troubling times.

It could read as overstuffed – and at times, it can feel that way – but the sheer force of performance and skilled production more than carry the album.

Big Thief aren’t the sort of band that will always hit you suddenly, such is their subtlety and restraint, but on Capacity they prove that when they do it’s powerful and memorable.

The Talkies is a superb return, with Girl Band building upon what they know they can do but without resting on their laurels. Still experimenting, still funny, still brilliant.

In the minesweeping of stylistic variation they’ve even ended up accidentally sounding like post-Absolution Muse on the harmonies-rich Desire. Despite this, there is still a wealth of texture and musical brio on offer here, framing the restrained development as a narrowing of the laser rather than a sign Everything Everything are hitting their limits.

Shah's rich musical palette smartly frames her lyrical acumen; crisp horns colour Relief’s spartan groove.

Every element in his songs fight for control of the centre before inevitably decaying together like racing pennies in orbit around the centre of a funnel.

The studio mix is excellent, and sample-heavy interludes provide a welcome break from what at times seems like a label compilation. One unifying thread, however, is the playground-fidelity sampling and the prominent, plucky bass, which gives the album a Parliament-ish, heavy funk overtone.

Universalists is an extension and expansion of his solo debut, an evolution as simultaneously radical and just-right as any of the changes he’s known for improvising live.

What sets Every Inch of Earth Pulsates apart from its predecessors, though, is the sheer urgency of the piece; it crackles with a nervous energy that will surely propel them to new heights.

[Redemption Love's] use of repetition is borderline annoying, the instrumental is completely uninteresting, making this track feel like just another piece of filler on an album that otherwise features some truly captivating songwriting. The title track, for example, is the Joan Armatrading we know and love, and then some: contemplative, wise and deliciously groovy.

These songs are strong enough to be recorded with minimal accompaniment and that instantly recognisible, hushed voice--but the best moments are when his love of electronica shines through.