There is ultimately something sketchy about Boarding House Reach, pulling in so many directions that it suggests rough drafts for more fully formed work to come. But for all that, there are so many rich ingredients in the mix, even misophones should find something to soothe their troubled ears.

Mixing up elements of rock, pop, blues, jazz, soul and funk, each song finds its way into a supple groove and just bounces around there as though Amadou's guitar strings and Mariam's vocal chords were made of musical elastic.

She’s at her best channelling the mature, suburban melodrama of vintage Tammy Wynette on Stay at Home Mother and the all-out D.I.V.O.R.C.E.-style heartwrench of Waterproof Mascara, on which a little boy’s mother thanks God for a cosmetic that “won’t run like his daddy did”.

Here, leading lights of electronic music remix King Midas Sound's underrated debut album to striking effect.

Real Life builds up to a pitch of doomed drama from a corrosive slash of guitar as Tesfaye confides that even his “Mama called me destructive”. But Ed Sheeran fails to rescue him on the tedious Dark Times and Lana Del Rey--who ought to be his perfect partner in pop-noir--adds nothing but a bored spritz of vocal perfume to the lethargic Prisoner.

Everything may remind you of something you’ve heard before, but Gallagher remains a singer who can deliver utopian exhortations and sneering put-downs with equal conviction, even in the same song.

Brightest Blue is an album of sleekly produced, emotional gushing electropop elevated by Goulding’s vocals.

In short, if you're stuck in a traffic jam, this is a record which will make you want to open the sunroof.

The music is an acquired taste but Tales From The Barrel House is certainly a modern musical artisan at work.

On Out of Heart, Flohio deserves credit for bridging the worlds of rap and electronica, but you’re still left wondering: who is the human being behind this aesthetic? If she’s to truly level up artistically, Flohio needs to give us a clearer idea of what the reflection in the mirror looks like.

This is Kasabian’s second album with Pizzorno on the microphone, so tightly honed that if it had been a young band’s debut, I think we’d be clambering over ourselves proclaiming Kasabian rock’s saviours.

With the jolly, moreish melodies in other songs including Danae there is much to enjoy in Mythologies. But it’s also a 23-track album that commands attention, sonically speaking, for only a fraction of its duration. A seat at the ballet itself is needed to best marry the music, stories and movement.

Pop music has become saturated with soft, emotional ballads (the songs of Billie Eilish and Gracie Abrams spring to mind). McRae offers a welcome change – if you want tunes packed with snappy, catchy choruses and racy lyrics that make you feel powerful and sexy, then look no further.

With Blake re-accessing his quirkier side after years of solid songcraft, and Childs guided away from his more loopy excesses. A hatful of memorable tunes, too.

It is the sound of an old rocker at full steam ahead, determined to keep on rolling for as long as he can.

Pacier than her self-titled 2018 debut, the new album is still too long. But lengthiness suits R&B’s slow-burn tendencies: lingering over syllables and songs, letting new albums simmer.

Assured and still in thrall to the spinning lights, Little Red confidently and unpretentiously reflects Katy B’s transition from eager young clubber with a curfew to a mature young woman with a home of her own and the ability to hold a little something in reserve.

Without the hip-hop beats that peppered her first album, the songs here lack a sprinkling of brashness--a little of the Kim and Kanye touch would have helped.

In all it’s a fascinating mix, which should attract new recruits to Kokoroko’s ever-growing legion of fans.

Gretchen Wilson's version of Don't Come Home A Drinkin' (With Lovin' On Your Mind) is feisty and Lee Ann Womack is helped by having Buddy Miller on accordian and Patty Griffin on backing vocals but several of the 12 songs are pretty routine covers that add little particularly interesting.

He knows how to fill a dance floor. But his music comes with the sharp awareness of how it feels to stand, alienated and feigning aloofness, on the sidelines.

Hall’s deadpan tones offer the same strangely reassuring grounded presence on the opening track, a bullish political anthem Black Skin Blue Eyed Boys. Yet with its slick funk and soul groove, I can’t remember the Specials ever sounding quite so smooth.

It’s effectively atmospheric, giving a raw, insomniac groove to the gritty notes draining from electric guitars and a twitch of dirty old fluorescent bulbs in the glitchy drum beats.

Earle is a busy man, writing novels, acting and recording but he has found time to make his 14th album full of wonderful moments.

The affection is winning, as is Metheny's mastery of the guitar and harmonic subtlety, but the tone of ruminative gentleness does start to seem unvaried.

Ilo Veyou is a magnificent, kaleidoscopic oddity, unafraid to risk ridiculousness in pursuit of the sublime, fearlessly unlike anything else you'll hear this year.

Life has been a struggle for the son of Steve but the closing track, Looking for a Place to Land, suggests there is some light at the end of the tunnel.

Without a feeling that it’s intentionally waiting for the rain in order to go out dancing in it, it draws on its authors’ memories of the good times – reflecting, according to Philippakis, right back to their earliest days – and projects them huge and bright.