For all Season High’s exuberance, the record never pitches too hard. Little Dragon sense when to turn it down just as well as they know when to ramp it up, and tracks like Butterflies and Strobe Lights deal in emerald lights and moody ultraviolet.

While tracks like Woman are meant to be sombre (and ANOHNI is the perfect artist to deliver this), several of the featured artists have attempted to transpose Cherry’s tongue-in-cheek asides into sincere parts of the melody and in doing so have undercut the fun of the songs.

Like a horror flick that looks good but never really scares, The Capsule remains a concept crying out for a narrative.

Menace Beach gain a lot from the distinctive nasal vocal style of former Komakino frontman Ryan Needham, and when he becomes largely absent the record suffers as a result. ... But when they strike gold, they hit it hard.

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.

It’s not perfect; a couple of the album’s feature spots from the likes of D.R.A.M. and Stefflon Don feel a little crowbarred-in, there's less of the punchiness that characterised the duo's early work, and the lounge-funk interlude of Right Back Home To You goes on for at least a minute too long. But when the pieces fall into place there aren’t many bands that exude this much ridiculous, filthy, party-starting energy.

It may lack the richness and depth of her solo work, but that is replaced with absolutely towering riffs and Jurassic grooves.

Although this album has some appealing pop melodies, any further examination or appreciation removes their surface-level charm. Elevator music isn't bad, it just fills awkward silences.

This release isn't going to be for everyone (trading a harder sound for radio-rock seems to divide fans more often than not), especially with a band of 40-somethings attempting to make widely accessible rock tunes.

Either way, it’s a slightly boozy, bluesy, badly tuned, occasionally winsome collection of songs that treads a neat path between pseud’s corner and authentic alley.

We understand if the phrase 'breaking the album format' makes you eye-roll, but this collection of un-songs, half-rhythms and sound snapshots really questions the point in breaking a record into individual tracks.

Wuthering Dream all too frequently gets lost in its own subtleties.

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

There’s still too much filler here to warrant an unqualified thumbs up.

Savior seems suffocated by the very strict parameters that have been drawn for her, by herself and others.

The methods have changed but Shadow's unorthodox sense of rhythm remains reassuringly familiar.

It’s just a shame their debut feels muddied, rather than fuelled, by glimpses of their potential.

While there is still plenty to love here, Everything Now feels like Arcade Fire's first non-essential album which is a serious matter given their illustrious back-catalogue.

As a standalone record, End of the Day does not always justify its existence. Some tracks are simply too empty, leaving a noticeable divide between audience and artist. It takes a concerted effort to listen to the album as a single track, and it perhaps would be best enjoyed alongside the film it was first written to accompany.

It's the kind of record that needs to be approached in increments, but the rewards reveal themselves when given the patience and time that Callus deserves.

Their combined creative nous is such that if the two took the time to craft something more elegant and thought out, they could deliver a classic.

Goldblum doesn’t bring nearly enough of his own unique persona to the performance; his band is competent without making any particularly interesting choices, and the only memorable moment comes from Sarah Silverman’s affable guest appearance.

It's not an easy listen and it's hardly surprising that Lawrie has admitted his intention was "always to create a listening experience reaching beyond the realm of natural vision" but as Something In My Brain grabs you by the neck and thrusts you into the void, it's hard not to give into its dark and welcoming charms.

Breakin' Point feels like a pop record designed by a committee.

Slow Air takes time to process as we reflect on the musical journey we've been on, it's an escapist dream which can only offer more to the imagination with every listen.

Despite not offering up anything especially musically complex (not surprising given that it only took four days to put together) it brings a whole lot of attitude along with it.

Bunky Becky Birthday Boy is a return to the immediacy that made Sleigh Bells’ name – but you wonder whether they had to sacrifice quite so much of the nuance of their last couple of albums in the process.

Lyrically and production-wise, Falling, bar a couple of moments, fails to catch the imagination in a crowded field.