Still disorientating yet more alive than ever, this is a bold album that skillfully pairs darkness with light.

The result is less revelation than stress test – a popstar proof-of-concept. In that, Thirlwall proves herself pop’s newest chameleon: brash, uneven and impossible to ignore.

The record is at its best when it retains the sense of adventure that has defined their earlier work.

Circle weighs heavy with its search for meaning, but makes no attempt to gloss over the answers.

There’s not much depth to the lyrics. But when it sounds this good, who cares?

It could read as overstuffed – and at times, it can feel that way – but the sheer force of performance and skilled production more than carry the album.

Ace manages not to overwhelm its simply lovely melodies under sweeping layers of orchestration. With moments of sheer, sunlit beauty unfolding unexpectedly among the churning winds, Madison Cunningham shows us it’s well worth weathering the storm.

While Don’t Look Down might lack the knockout punches that would bring Kojey Radical to the top table of UK rap, it's another step in his rise as a star of the alternative scene as he continues to carve out his own sound.

The record’s sequencing underlines its restless thesis: the solemnity of Appointments melts into the weightless bounce of Drop A, a movement from stasis to momentum central to Duterte’s embrace of flux. Past Lives, buoyed by Hayley Williams’ harmonies, erupts into a scale Jay Som once shied from, before collapsing into the spectral murk of D.H.

For newcomers, it may feel too uniform to stand out. But for longtime fans, Not For Lack of Trying offers cosy autumnal listening and a continued exploration of dodie’s style.

It’s a treat when a band that’s spent the better part of three decades crafting their sound and poetic sensibilities has all those endless hours of commitment come out crystal clear on their tenth record, and it's precisely what Idlewild have accomplished here.

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.

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.

Chubb’s lyrics are so sharp they could pierce the skin like a sword. Embodying the ethos of punk, All That Is Over mirrors the horrific state of humanity that the world has found itself in.

It’s no surprise though to people familiar with Coates’ work that his input is sublime, expertly judged, particularly on Gown where he churns down into desperation and reaches for salvation simultaneously.

Consistently flowing from heartfelt numbers to classic electrifying rock, Futique is one of Biffy's most personal albums to date, cementing their status as one of the country’s most iconic bands.

Bleeds is an alt-rock urtext for Wednesday, both an entry point and a summation of their gifts: mixing the atonal with the blissful (Wound Up Here (By Holdin On)), bizarro choogle (Phish Pepsi), void-splitting hardcore (Wasp) and Low-esque slowcore (Carolina Murder Suicide).

What remains from their early work is their command of atmosphere. What’s new is a real prestige in the instrumentation, felt in the soaring interlude on Mr Cold Embrace, the restrained build of Something’s Broken and in the scuzzy layered guitars on the thrillingly furious Roobosh.

A nine-track tour de force laden with biting observations and curious characters.

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.

Byrne claims that he doesn't fully understand why the avant-garde resonates with him and so many others, but continuously proves himself (as he has done throughout his entire career) as an arbiter of the genre.

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

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.

It's an album that oozes confidence, from the UK’s indie-rock standard-bearers.

Vocally, lyrically, creatively, CMAT has never sounded better. In truth, you’d be hard pushed to find another record like this one.

Despite tracks expressing feelings of complicated relationship, the Royel Otis signature feel-good indie sound remains beautifully uncomplicated.

If previous releases made Laufey Gen Z’s jazz-pop queen, A Matter of Time affirms that title.

While the material is scarce, the quality is a renewable resource on par with a nuclear fusion plant. Choruses hum, drumlines bounce, and there's always enough subversion for leftovers.