There is probably a message buried somewhere within Femejism, but unfortunately it just comes across as lacklustre and contrived.

Like a Russian doll which opens to reveal evermore intimate and foetal musings on communication, self-awareness and comfort, this debut album has, at its core, that which sits on its surface: raw, honest emotion. It wears its heart on its sleeve.

Heads Up will still please some fans, and the band will be able to work some of these tracks into respectable live numbers; they’ll even win new listeners. The problem for devotees of the band’s earlier work, and for anyone who’s seen them live, is that they’ll cherish the memory of what Warpaint could (and probably still can) do.

A record dense with anxieties it may be but Lowly have improved on their debut with a more consistent and varied record that never loses sight of the band's capacity for sheer beauty.

The resulting album feels like an exercise in understatement, and contextually it’s difficult to know whether it’s a case of self-restraint or a situation in which the shackles are being enforced.

There’s real heart buried underneath SUMAC’s furious, deafening bleakness; it can just feel like a serious excavation job to locate it.

VI is undoubtedly You Me At Six's poppiest effort yet complete with funky, melodic beats and synths along with relatable themes of relationships, feelings and late night adventures that perfectly straddles the line between pop and rock.

Despite being the biggest shift in her sound so far, Khan's silken touch is such that Delphi feels like a congruous and joyful addition to her oeuvre, proof of her claim that motherhood helped her tap into a previously unknown well of creativity.

The record is resolute in its pacing, maintaining a continuous bpm between songs but never gaining driving force from the bass as the best disco does. Nothing ever feels like it’s at risk.

All the hallmarks of Omni’s debut are present and correct: jaunty, stop/start arrangements, intense guitar melodies, muffled vocals and a propensity for the poppier side of post-punk. It doesn’t quite have anything as immediately appealing as Afterlife here, in fact it’s much more of a grower, but over time Multi-task proves itself to be a triumphant lesson in post-punk authenticity.

While RITUAL possesses Hopkins' trademark blend of dark vs light, it feels slight compared to his prior work, and so fails to reach his former glories.

Perhaps it isn't quite a fully realised picture, but Life of Pause still paints a very pretty sonic landscape.

The tunes are pretty great too, but you'll be under no illusion that they're anything other than a rock band, and an explosive one at that.

It’s an irony that musicians who regard pop with suspicion usually turn out to be quite good at making it.

SASAMI can write the hell out of a love song, but something about this album's emotional side feels more generic than referential.

Stiff is better when it's slower, but it still feels like riding a rollercoaster that's all climb and no twist.

Fake Sugar is a real reinvention for Beth Ditto, but it’s not so much of a reinvention that her signature traits are unrecognisable.

Bayonne twists and folds thousands of layers and loops, utilising the echoes of old pianos and draining sinks to add some earth to his technical wizardry.

Across its concise 42 minutes they move from shimmering electronics, and sounds akin to techno, to more ambient waves, with each mood laid across a foundation of intricate, textured layers of sound that seem to continually reveal themselves over repeated listens. Blink and you could easily miss a detail, but Selling will keep drawing you back to discover all of their secrets.

My Name Is Safe In Your Mouth is warm and intimate, offering a moment of reflection and introspection.

At its most delicate points, slow climbing chord progressions carry as much emotion as her lyrics, and at its lowest, though sparse, carry them where they feel overly simple.

There’s not a single track on European Heartbreak that isn’t a beautifully composed, shining picture postcard of emotion from a songwriter you should be listening to right now.

Harnessing a very earthy and elemental attitude and sound, ANCESTOR BOY is often powerful and overflowing with sound but never feels overwhelming as it is consistently surprising and deeply engaging. It's difficult not to dive head first into Lafawndah’s musical vision.

Not to Disappear is shattering throughout: a brooding sound board, crackling guitars, unsettling beats and Tonra buried in there somewhere, documenting unspeakable hurt, graphic and unfiltered.

Generally, though, this is an album of unobtrusive indie strum-alongs: Doris and The Daggers never quite explodes from the speakers, nor does it set your soul soaring with melodies to be bawled across fields and arenas.

Curt's voice sounds beautiful, crisp and clear, resigned to fate, yielding beauty in the midst of cracked flaws. And the band, fleshed out with keyboardist Ron Stabinsky and Curt's son Elmo, work the magic of making all of this sound fresh and new.