Most of the songs have the intensity of an opener, diluting their power and impeccable production; by the end, the drops and tonal shifts don’t hit as surprises.

A pandemic baby, the album is a mixed bag as the singer explores new paths for herself.

An enigmatic listen, crying out for your own reading.

Whilst it’s fair to say that the offering has been fine-tuned somewhat (frontwoman Lili Trifilio has all but ditched the Courtney Barnett schtick in favour of a far more direct punk-pop far closer in tone to early Paramore), it’s still a solid effort.

The title track, Cruel World, is a brilliantly deceptive slice of sunshine. .... Elsewhere, the album is quieter and less sure footed.

But with all this exploration, the record lacks a little impact, not quite achieving the cohesion and emotional gravity of Good at Falling.

There’s less of an exploratory bent to the record than there was last time out, on 2014's Too Much Information, and when there is a touch of that ambition, the band often revert to their comfort zone too quickly.

That isn't to say there aren't enjoyable moments on III that transcend genre--the final build in Days Turn Into Years is particularly good--but ultimately, this is largely standard fare.

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.

Sir is as extroverted as Spooner’s recent experiences, but some occasional, additional restraint may have added extra punch to its more introverted moments.

Albums have come at a brisk pace in the last few years, but there have been some diminishing returns as the Manchester troupe try to find the balance between the big hitters and the bit between their teeth.

The Beggar is another solid entry into the Swans canon, if not one that suggests it will have the staying power of their classics. It still marks Swans as a group intent on developing long into their career, and there’s no threat of them losing their intensity.

Paradise is a better pop record but less immediately fun than previous offerings.

While Glasgow Eyes is no Psychocandy, it is without doubt a true-to-form The Jesus and Mary Chain album and, for that reason alone, worth the listen.

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.

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.

CACTI is understandably more subdued than her self-titled debut, but the boisterous numbers it does contain, like spite, might feel more dynamic played live by humans – it feels like the energy that makes her such a captivating performer is being restricted by her drum machine.

Nosebleed Weekend goes for the gut and mostly hits it dead-on. Occasionally their ideas get the better of them.

At times perhaps overly conceptual--Honeymooning Alone needlessly hammers the point home--The Bride also lacks more standout cuts to truly make it soar. There’s nevertheless plenty to appreciate here; just don’t expect much in the way of wedding playlist material.

Hiperasia might be a less accessible album, but it’s Díaz-Reixa at his most experimental and inventive.

Goodnight, God Bless, I Love U, Delete. is overlong and perhaps too diffuse for its own good, but to hear Moreno wholeheartedly indulge his melodic instincts makes the whole exercise a worthwhile one.

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.

[Shows] a more intimate side to Barnett than we’ve previously encountered. ... Things start to feel monotonous and samey by If I Don’t Hear From You Tonight and Splendour and there’s none of the brazen intensity or deadpan delivery that graces Tell Me How You Really Feel to behold here, which is a shame.

Patchy and unfiltered, but charming as all hell, it’s a candid reflection of its creator.

There’s just nothing bringing the whole thing together, and a nagging feeling that he could do better if he tried.

One More Thing is the product of an accomplished band noodling around in the studio. There's a playfulness and creativity here that promises bigger and better things from the Brighton four-piece in the future. As far as debut albums go, this is a promising one.

Carpenter is at both her best and her worst when she leans into humour, which is threaded throughout the record. It’s a continuation of what’s made her so memorable in the past: the campy innuendo of Bed Chem’s 'come right on me… I mean camaraderie' or her viral 'have you ever tried this one?' sex position-asides on tour. Here, that same instinct bubbles up everywhere; sometimes brilliantly, sometimes too much.

TYRON’s second half is undoubtedly more interesting, demonstrating a maturity to his lyrical ability. While it does feel like a forced attempt to put things right, on TYRON slowthai is allowed the time for self-reflection that cancel culture often denies.