She blends traditional folk with experimental elements and psychedelic inflections so deftly that it is impossible to imagine it to be the product of anything other than years of dedicatedly honing her craft; the ten songs on Hard Hearted Woman might be the most potently distilled version of it yet.

For all her DIY charms, Next Thing continues to give credence to the view that the home studio environment might not quite meet the requirements of a songwriter blessed with such precocious talent.

Light Information is a mixed bag of indie rock gems, ramshackle in sound and structure, but there are clear lyrical themes.

If you’re a fan, rest easy knowing that PABH have done good. The Haze is their best yet. For the rest of you, make a bonfire of your Foo Fighters, Biffy Clyro and Bring Me the Horizon records. You’ve got no need for them anymore. PABH are it.

The record sounds warm, full and flirty; the snares hit you, the bass bounces and harmonicas and organs are as bright as California stars.

While Dance On the Blacktop is a fair attempt at taking forward their sound, unfortunately, it feels more like a regression.

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.

When it aims for the ecstatic it works well, but it doesn’t colour its muted periods with anything like the precision, the uneasy vistas it is aiming for never quite forming.

Nap Eyes are mostly concise in their wanderings, but occasionally meander too far from the path.

Here, there are some of the sweetest songs Jurado has ever recorded.

There are still plenty of the magic, chaotic choruses that set alight their live shows, but in between are touching moments of melancholy, frustration and imagination.

This is less innovation, more a soothing collection of unpretentious porch songs, delivered in superb fashion.

This is the band's darkest material yet. Opener, The Supremacy of Pure Artistic Feeling is an instant statement of the band's simultaneous deviousness and gorgeousness, which is a feeling that never really lets up over its 40 minutes until the seemingly krautrock-influenced The Right Kind of Adult. Come join the family.

Pax Americana is something of a mixed bag of a return for Bratten. Its short runtime and nature as a mix of already released and new material making it feel more like an elongated EP than a cohesive album. It’s a record that takes its time shaking off a clawing desire to replicate its influences, but ultimately finds the form that led to Bratten’s best work again.

A striking fusion of psychedelic rap and R'n'B. Peng balances otherworldly soundscapes with lyrics that bleed with vulnerability.

The trick that Johnny Lynch, aka Pictish Trail, has pulled on us all, however, is that beneath the froth and the dayglo is a set of songs that truly shine, sticking to your ears like Silly String, getting tangled in your brain and your heartstrings.

This uncompromising obscurity will turn off some, and understandably so. Beneath that, the band are writing songs that make floating into oblivion sound appealing.

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

Will is a deeply dramatic showcase throughout--Barwick's vision might have its foundation in traditional forms but the way in which she deconstructs and rebuilds is a distinctly renegade act.

This is a record packed to the brim with guest vocalists and layers of instrumentation, all sitting on top of rock-solid yet unpredictable grooves.

There's a nod to Brexitannia in the shape of Dark Days Are Here Again but much of Office Politics feels like old jokes, filler songs in wobbly theatre productions and laboured punning.

Love Hates achieves a mature tone, complemented perfectly by Roberts' gruff vocals and Hoorn's velvety melodies. Arguably, it's Hoorn’s increased presence on the record that lends this new air of grace.

Ultimately, at a drone-heavy run-time of over an hour, Dear isn't much of a fun prospect for a summer album.

ASIWYFA haven’t reinvented the wheel with this album, but it’s a worthy addition to an increasingly accomplished body of work.

Twenty years on, The Dears still have a vital, driving passion that deserves a wider UK audience.

As a whole this is a moving and interesting new project, proving that the end of a relationship can lead to something new and exciting.

Never Exhale is not for the faint of heart, and as its name suggests, is often a breathlessly intense, punishing listen, one filled with audible dynamism, sonic interest and gnarled heaviness.

The duo commit to a kind of 90s-coded insouciance: lethargic vocals draped over a club-ready chassis and an occasionally unconvincing refusal to try too hard. For a band sold as the city’s next great party-starters, a lot of 'Ö' feels oddly undercooked.