The Art of Loving proves to be both a continuation and a step forward from Messy, with Dean bringing a new level of maturity and authenticity that brings depth and complexity to the album.

Not everything here works; the album’s middle section gets a little too bogged down in the weeds to the point of distraction. However, the final stretch sees a thrilling switch to route one, such as the climax of Third Double or the excellent Favoured Over The Ride.

Kae Tempest fully opens up on This Line Is a Curve and it continues to blossom with every listen.

Singularity it feels like he’s levelled up the melding of two worlds: ambient and techno. Hopkins’ signature deep tissue massage bass is stitched together throughout, with unreal moments of musical beauty making Singularity a simply stunning album of emotional highs and lows.

What sparkles most about this new album is the comfort you feel when Malkmus and his band do exactly what you expect.

This is the group’s masterwork to date, a thrillingly rich tapestry that combines passionate reflections on the meaning of black power, sharpened in particular by last summer’s Black Lives Matter protests, with sonic love letters to black culture past and present.

All Nerve shrugs off any burden of a ‘come-back’ and becomes a truly rare thing: a wild, visionary, timeless rock album.

Few artists can toe the line between melancholy and miracle like Allison, making Sometimes, Forever a record worthy of accolades for some time, perhaps even forever.

Perhaps this new album doesn’t match the immediate wow factor of Whack World – few albums ever could – but regardless, we should be thankful Tierra Whack is out there doing her thing; making mainstream hip-hop interesting.

To be making music that can truly surprise you 13 albums and 28 years into a career is a testament to Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker’s continued dedication to their craft.

The ten tracks collected here are an excellent slice of brilliantly composed pop masterclasses, and only further add credence to the idea that Folick is indeed the real deal.

Redirecting the euphoric energy of the club toward creative ends, City of Clowns is a rallying call for a more humane digital future.

It's a sage document precisely because it embraces that which can’t be figured out: what life has next in store.

The album sways more into the meandering rather than the conclusive – perhaps an observation on the unpredictability of life itself, but nevertheless leaving things feeling somewhat stunted.

Sometimes the influence of others brings a feeling of dilution, reducing the unadulterated Bon Iver experience, but it's hard to begrudge the sheer delight of these songs. The sexy atmosphere of Walk Home, the reflective pedal steel of There's a Rhythm and the peaceful instrumental coda Au Revoir don't match the experimental genius of previous albums, but Vernon and co have never sounded so hopeful and free from worry.

Liars' tenth album is a spotty affair with showy highs (Sekwar, The Start), pulpy mediocrity (From What the Never Was, My Pulse to Ponder) and enigmatic experiments (Acid Crop, Leisure War).

It’s Dalt at her most exposed, and somehow, her most inscrutable. .... A cinematic exploration of the self that reveals the human psyche as a strange and uncanny landscape.

More notable for its meditative atmosphere than blockbuster tracks, Rebound isn’t the sort of record that will blow anyone away, but that’s never been Friedberger’s MO. When it comes to neatly capturing knotty feelings and subtle changes of mood, she remains one of indie rock’s masters.

Solo Piano III is colourful and humorous; the sheer musicality of the work is astounding, bringing the listener as close to contentment as music possibly can.

Authentic, intricate and wholeheartedly personal, Julia Jacklin brims with poise at every turn on PRE PLEASURE.

It’s thrilling to hear songs gussied up in the signifiers of 'challenging music' be so completely unserious.

Throughout, Jlin's command over rhythm and texture make what could be too impenetrable a blast to hear.

Take Me Apart may not appear as immediately interesting and unique as her previous work but there are layers upon layers of elements to be explored, digested and, ironically enough, taken apart.

The Great Bailout, while resting handily within her trademark virulent atmospheres and spoken word, is among her most impenetrable and least entertaining from a practical sense. This is not a fault of the record, but a necessary and expected byproduct of its existence, as each track runs up to ten minutes in a dirge of menacing poetry with instrumentals more evocative of a sinister mood-piece than a traditional song

It's a beautiful album that requires patience and provokes instrospection, while still retaining the gorgeous discotronics and expertly stitched samples that come with a Caribou release.

The titular track shines a light up to the album as a whole – fun, endearingly cringeworthy, luxury pop music.

Even if subdued, light folk lullabies channel old-school Big Thief in this journey to homecoming and cosy familiarity.

The album loses some of its momentum through the last few songs, foregoing the weighty power of Minor Feelings for something more airy and nebulous. In many ways, this album feels like a love letter to Sawayama's younger self. It feels like a promise that joy is coming.