LC! demonstrate once more that they are masters of drilling down into the minutiae of life, spotting the danger ahead, while remaining powerless to make better choices.

nothing or something to die for is a jaw-droppingly beautiful, immersive experience where each track melts into the next, and in a quiet room with a decent set of headphones, you’ll get lost in its dreamy, bittersweet soundscape.

Minor frustrations do present, though they are quickly dispersed. ALL SHE EVER WANTED, which feels like disposable Radio 1 fodder, transitions into HATE and DEAR IMMIGRATION, pillars of brilliance from which BERWYN confronts systems of power that engage in active oppression: moments that affirm BERWYN’s voice and salience as an important figure in British music.

Although the project offers quality in production and vocals, tracks like Roller Coaster and Bang Bang Boom fall a little flat with overly repetitive refrains. Despite some hiccups along the way, Brijean have continued to carve out their own sound through an increasing mastery of production and vocal talent. The album achieves dreaminess without sending you to sleep.

Griff’s debut album is proficient pop, polished and clean – but to the point of sterility. It needs a bit of defilement.

On the back half of the record, the production turns towards the kind of lo-fi psychedelia of Stereolab and Broadcast, Clairo embodying Trish Keenan’s detached delivery, another previously unseen aspect of her artistry she wears well. Like Sling, Charm is a grower of an album, Clairo growing with it.

If Jenkins is the poster child for anything, it’s that there’s always a place for yourself in the vastness of time and space. It’s a striking, and very human, proposition throughout the record that grief and anticipatory awe can exist as a singular emotion, in a blip on the cosmic scale; the overwhelming ego death of human self-importance and the perfect realisation of its own in-spite beauty, that love and death are on the same spectrum.

A gorgeous microcosm of sound, Love Heart Cheat Code is a perfect accompaniment for hazy summer days and nights.

Sentir que no sabes is endlessly playful, Fratti using either her cello, or some out-of-nowhere sonic texture, to constantly colour outside the lines, conjure dramatic tension, and create real emotional resonance.

There's an assurance on Um from an artist that has gained the requisite experience to release such an accomplished debut.

As some similar-sounding songs morph into the other, we can sometimes feel the narrow scope of 9 Sad Symphonies, but Nash charms with the winning, irreverent bluntness first employed in her vaunted debut, showing received pronunciation the proverbial finger.

Nueen’s understated drill elements bring a benevolent, tense space that Iceboy Violet has complemented with their lyrical expanse.

While there are some tracks that feel distinctly like filler, there's more than enough substance on Why Lawd? to justify the price of admission. Let's hope we don't have to wait another eight years for this duo to get together again.

Like any good night out Fine Art has its ups and downs, it can be deep, it can be controversial, but in the long run, it's a good laugh and a thumping good time.

Statik is muted to the point of silence. It’s hard to truly warm to a record that, while often morosely pretty, feels like it struggles to say much beyond a defeated sigh.

There’s pressure to satisfy. Largely, it does – especially when there’s a spark with his songwriting partners. Rochelle Jordan brings heat to her pair of dancefloor-ready offerings. Still, with Charlotte Day Wilson, balances polish and raw performance. KAYTRANADA gets fantastic performances out of Anderson .Paak and Childish Gambino, who are given extravagant tracks to work with. Other moments are stilted.

An earnest but keenly self-aware synchronisation of Gou’s ‘eyes on the Top 40’ dance music with an artistry that is both curious and willing.

BRAT comes together in a genius way; it's literary, musically complex and somehow effortless. Not to mention, perfectly suited for when you need to cry at the club.

There's a lot to take in across the breadth of Below the Waste, but few could doubt the ecstatic creativity of this trio and their ability to take so many old parts and create something new.

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.

When Campbell does make bold sonic choices, such as on the spacey centrepiece Dopamine, you yearn for more of that, and less of the interchangeably delicate instrumentals on many of the other songs. Still, Campbell’s voice remains a welcome balm in terms of both sound and messaging.

Even more impressive are the melodies that stand out above all of the intricacy, making for an album that’s not only fun, but acutely detailed and instantly memorable. Exactly As It Seems is a beautifully peculiar, joy-inducing triumph.

From the John Barry-esque orchestration of Reaching Out, to Talk Talk’s Lee Harris’s febrile percussion on Rewind, the album is full of richly detailed arrangements that allow Gibbons to free herself from the pull of Portishead’s past.

The trio of discs add up to a surprisingly tight record, a superb summary of Cook’s work to date, and a thrilling pointer to where the future may lead.

You Won't Go Before You're Supposed To exhibits a group confidently at their zenith with no signs of slowing down. Many predicted this could be the heavy release of the year – and it’s bloody hard to argue with that.

It’s at times a frustrating listen – just as a flow appears, dark, ominous vignettes (Joyrider, Predator) shatter the illusion. Eventually, reward arrives. Carrying you through the epic collage of Round the World is McMahon’s anchor of a voice, proving there’s beauty to be found in the disquiet.

What follows is a 14-track reintroduction to everything that makes Les Savy Fav so unique: tightly-knit duelling guitars, an impactful rhythm section and frontman Tim Harrington's vociferous delivery and wordplay. Legendary Tippers is full of the ironic swagger we've come to expect, while Don't Mind Me finds room for rare vulnerability

Chinouriri siphons every good idea from her previous EPs and evolves them into great ones; hits we saw in the prophecy fulfilled in the present. It also contains what should be referred to as ‘good-ole-fashioned-pacing’: front-load with hits, dip for a few ballads, repeat with an uproarious middle section, and coast off with acoustics.