His best yet? Perhaps. For the first time ever, the Sheffield hero has chosen not to name the record after a local landmark close to his heart--the irony being, he's never sounded more at home.

Across its 15 tracks, Madlib’s constant beat switches make it feel more like one piece rather than a series of divided tunes, and you're left with a stunning collage of Gibbs’ headspace: flawed, politicised, desperate to change but tied by circumstance to the things he needs to escape.

Pax Americana is something of a mixed bag of a return for Bratten. Its short runtime and nature as a mix of already released and new material making it feel more like an elongated EP than a cohesive album. It’s a record that takes its time shaking off a clawing desire to replicate its influences, but ultimately finds the form that led to Bratten’s best work again.

Moments help prevent Dizzy Spells from becoming one-note by putting a different spin on the happy-sad formula, keeping it a bright yet bittersweet full-length exploration of Clifford’s new sonic world.

While still evoking a sense of auditory adventure on tracks such as The Deku Tree or instrumental interlude Off World Colony, this more sedate middle section can feel slightly too mid-tempo. Despite this, the duo's sonic voyages make it worthwhile to sink into Bamboo’s realm.

Keepsake is an assured debut, but what it reveals is Pilbeam has actually not yet realised her best self. Keepsake is at its best when not trying too hard for substance, and rather leaning into soaring choruses, as on Without a Blush.

An Obelisk is by no means a bad record. Each of its songs are solid if not spectacular, and Stickles’ lyrics are always interesting, but as an album it is let down by a lack of variety. You’re left thinking that there’s probably a single great album to be made out of their last two records.

The band consistently reward close listening with little treasures, like on Echo, where a deceptively barebones instrumental is coloured with keys that decay slightly differently every few seconds, and bass that uses flourishes so understated they’re basically subconscious. That’s to say nothing of the songwriting, which is as catchy and uncool as ever.

Shapiro’s solo album is a portrait in greyscale, dissecting the rules by which we live with nuance and compassion.

A natural empath, she wraps warm words around the shoulders of lives made wretched by those who breathe easiest. ... A monumental achievement that stands utterly alone.

ears to Burn establishes itself as something more than just two different artists working together – neither Iron & Wine nor Calexico needs to win the crown. It’s just a great album of great songs that is bound to bring new fans to the work of both.

Further instrumentation was added with care afterwards, but the skeleton of each song can still be discerned, pleasingly, like a pencil sketch beneath watercolours.

While the interjection of these songs provide sobering reminders of what lies beyond the pleasantries, the party continues over the course of the record's 11 tracks, and an air of euphoria is present throughout.

Lust for Youth may not have made any personal great leap forward with this album, but it remains a set of glorious synth-pop gems, with an aching heart at their centre that most can only dream of.

There's a nod to Brexitannia in the shape of Dark Days Are Here Again but much of Office Politics feels like old jokes, filler songs in wobbly theatre productions and laboured punning.

There's a Paris, Texas feel to much of the music on offer here, but LeBlanc and super-producer Cobb have also moved from the ditch to the middle of the road for some driving rock sounds not heard since Ryan Adams last put his head above the parapet. And if there's an Adams-shaped hole in the Americana landscape at the moment, we may have just found the man to take his place.

Ultimately, ONDA is an interesting but forgettable experience despite its origins.

With Dirt interlude pt. 1 and pt. 2, Rodgers structures the record to complement her narrative--leaving us with these three acts against misogyny, and again evidence of the sheer intricacies of talent that dance through the record.

However, for as many tunes that feel dynamic in their constant morphing there are a good few that never quite find their way beyond a bunch of interesting noises.

Boat is a triumphant debut album because it’s both familiar and authentic. And when you have a melodic impulse that shines as brightly as this, you can’t really go wrong.

The second record from Rachel Aggs and Eilidh Rodgers, Glasgow-based duo Sacred Paws, is an unrelenting, fast-paced doubling down on its energetic predecessor Strike a Match.

'Eclectic' is the word you want to use to describe the sounds on Where the Action Is, but it feels lazy to put a label on an album that moves the listener in every way a person can be moved. But, if you insist, let's file The Waterboys' 13th record in the box marked 'their best for years'. It really is.

It feels unsure of itself, and what it wants to achieve. ... On the other hand, this sense of insecurity within the album rewards standout tracks.

Full Upon Her Burning Lips is perhaps their most minimal effort yet--which is a big statement for a band defined by their monolithic minimalism--but the hypnotic spell these two put the listener under is remarkable.

If anything, it’s a shame the album takes this long to really flourish. Indie super-producer John Congleton is welcome on the boards, but he arguably provides a little too much polish, compared to his recent worthy efforts for Priests.

With The Departure, Wilson has indeed crafted a constantly captivating experience that's rich in both sound and spirit.

While it's an improvement from their lowest ebbs, it will equally never match their highest peaks.

Filthy Friends have made a record to remind us all what music can aspire to.