It may well be Power’s finest solo record, a continuation of the last decade-and-a-half of pushing himself into new sonic realms. It’s an astonishing work; actively abrasive and incandescent with fury with a core of unaffected raw feeling.

Lovers may be a break-up album, but it’s one full of optimism, and more than a few catchy pop choruses.

Goat Girl’s London is a murkier, and at times far more unsettling place. Creep exposes a public transport pervert, complete with a 'dirty trouser stain,' atop ominous strings and fierce percussion, while The Man with No Heart or Brain is as scornful as it sounds.

However, for as many tunes that feel dynamic in their constant morphing there are a good few that never quite find their way beyond a bunch of interesting noises.

The melancholia that underpins Trash Kit's music remains while they expand their palette, and results in an impressive piece of work.

Bang is a truly original debut album that burns bright with emotion and wild imagination, confirming Zajac as one of Scotland’s most fearless and intriguing new voices.

Keepsake is an assured debut, but what it reveals is Pilbeam has actually not yet realised her best self. Keepsake is at its best when not trying too hard for substance, and rather leaning into soaring choruses, as on Without a Blush.

It’s all here, and though it may not reach the dizzying, if somewhat bloated, heights of 2017’s Humanz, it still slaps.

It sounds uniformly excellent – often radiantly sunny – but for an album concerned with wheel-spinning, it spends a lot of time doing exactly that.

A record that thrives on its biocentric themes, it’s one you won’t want to leave behind.

Rozi Plain is miles away from the sedate folk of her early career, though the subtle interpolation of additional elements is so masterfully done that she makes it look easy.

Alongside indulgently unadorned ruminations on fear and love, the record is boundlessly liberating, decadently indulgent, and irresistibly danceable. Aitchison has delivered her greatest work yet.

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.

There's something of an air of spontaneity to some of the tracks here, but this same spontaneity can make feel the album feel slightly ephemeral in places. Pang! can sometimes leave you hungering for more, but it’s still often an engaging listen.

From Appalachian folk song Golden Willow Tree to shape-note tunes like I'm On My Journey Home, Amidon preserves the melodic integrity of his source material while allowing foreign tones and textures to seep in.

If the 50something version of Dinosaur Jr is happy to keep refining a formula that was pretty damn fine in the first place, we’d be fools not to indulge 'em.

This has been billed as his most reflective album, a chance to make connections across his musical career but there’s a quiet confidence too, delivering some of his most intricate arrangements and roaming far beyond the Americana tag that he was often filed under. C’est La Vie just goes to show, you never can tell.

Blissful, elegant records like this do not come about by chance.

Anderson has all but perfected a very delicate balance. She presents subjects boldly and forcefully, but also with a great deal of sensitivity and thought-provoking tact. The questions she presents here will linger long after its final notes fade out.

Blake’s sonic ecosystem thrives in fusing seemingly discordant sounds. In striking electronic karate chops and pouring into careening chords, he makes the man-made appear organic.

Her voice is at times limited, with melodies in the second half of the record becoming indistinct. But when it works, Lotic is at the height of her powers.

30 years since the release of Pure, Godflesh continue to sound as relevant as ever.

On Hey Mr Ferryman, Eitzel no longer exudes such a colossal sense of searing introspection; perhaps he has finally reconciled with himself and, in Butler, has found the perfect foil to achieve this harmony.

Every song here is expertly assembled, with the threat that they may crack and falter at any moment, but the band's unity holds everything together in a very pleasing manner. If there's any justice in the world, Love Keeps Kicking will be the record that sends Martha into the big leagues that they are surely destined to enter.

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.

Deforming Lobes sees Ty Segall infallibly cement himself as a tyrant of stoner rock: it excites in its furious passion.

Hannigan's oeuvre requires patience and focus, and while much of this new collection is dependent on tone and texture to connect, eventually deeper qualties shine through.

More candid but just as magical, City Music is another magnificent record from Morby.