Slowdive are scene vets that have seemingly perfected their sound, but still have enough drive to keep nudging it forward, one shimmering soundscape at a time.

The Window is indicative of a newfound assuredness for a band which itself has stretched from a two-piece to a full foursome.

Meek’s vocals have always been quality, but on this release he has truly reached another level. The soft breathiness is used to the greatest emotive evocation yet, and the controlled manner in which his voice breaks cleanly into the following note in a way inimitable to few others than teenagers (certainly with less class than Meek) is impressive to the point of awe.

It's perhaps not the finest Hiss Golden Messenger album, but it's certainly one of the most joyful, and in the current climate, maybe that's just what we need.

Snow Angel is a well-calibrated blend of ballads and upbeat pop; self-contained but not unambitious. Not dealing in grand epiphanic or showstopping moments but rather steadier, more subdued honesty, Rapp jettisons the debut pop album rule book.

Overall, Learning How to Live and Let Go fluctuates in tone. But this doesn’t negate the clear effort the band have put into making this record a lot more experimental than any of their previous releases, and it’s still chock full of heart and vulnerability in its lyrical content.

Hozier’s far-reaching vocal range is on full display on Unreal Unearth – as an artist, he possesses that enviable fearlessness when it comes to being earnest. At times, the gospel overtones in the album reach cinematic scope. In places, this orchestral breadth comes off as over-produced, in a departure from the intimate honesty we've come to expect of Hozier.

The lengthy tracks here lose their momentum and oeuvre, dragging wearily toward the end. But when it's good, it’s great – similarly lengthy tracks in the first half, Wandering Through and Our Song feel varied and forceful enough to keep us on our toes.

While Deliverance does have instances of real bracing power, it equally finds itself faltering in its most exposed moments where it really needs to connect.

Radio Red bears all the hallmarks of a carefully constructed labour of love, one rendered all the more elegant by the glacial pace of its gestation.

Clocking in at less than half an hour, The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons is a breathless exercise in how rock music should be played. It’s fun, frenetic, and full to the brim with that trademark Hives humour.

By all accounts this fusion of genres should feel awkward and unworkable, but Ziúr fuses these elements together with the precision of a mad scientist unaware of the monster they’ve just created.

The record is resolute in its pacing, maintaining a continuous bpm between songs but never gaining driving force from the bass as the best disco does. Nothing ever feels like it’s at risk.

The Ones Ahead carries a resolute message of hope for the world, backed up by Glenn-Copeland's evident wisdom.

The band knock it out of the park with a magical cover of Unable by the elusive, long-defunct Suburban Lawns which makes a convincing case for their new sound. Much like their expeditious songwriting style, Snõõper are always moving forward at breakneck speed, unafraid to broaden their wacky musical horizons.

New York five-piece Geese are sure to give you… well, goosebumps… with the impressive, impassioned sound of new album 3D Country.

Even if it doesn’t always hit the mark, Evergreen is an album that should see Gunnulfsen continue to climb festival line-ups and charts alike.

A few wispy moments aside, there's a solid foundation of synthy techno-pop on Love Hallucination, as well as Lanza's greatest excursion yet in Marathon – a fizzing sex and sax romper that flows into the sultry, downtempo Double Time, a wonderful close to the album after a bit of a lull.

There is no more potent reminder on The Ballad of Darren of what a back-to-basics approach makes possible than the outstanding lead single, The Narcissist. It's the gorgeous, understated sound of a band that suffered such growing pains for so long finally settling handsomely into their own skin. In that respect, it’s the whole album in microcosm.

While IRL is satiny and consistent, sonically and lyrically you’re eager for some bigger swings. At times operating in truisms, you await unspooling of edgier insight. IRL is like a path reflecting dappled sunlight: we can see patches of brightness but its full light is obscured.

On Supermodels, Claud combines humour with pure heart throughout, cultivating the ultimate soundtrack for summer and beyond.

As the title suggests, I Inside the Old Year Dying feels like a product of Harvey cocooning, burrowing into a space that feels protected and unhinged from relevance or topicality, as time and space wither. With that she has produced her most beguiling work.

Her voice is excellent throughout – defiant and unwavering over Littmann's production – and sonically it is patient, cinematic and hopeful. A refuge, perhaps, for anyone who has been on the receiving end of the confounding and cosmic world of grief.

But with all this exploration, the record lacks a little impact, not quite achieving the cohesion and emotional gravity of Good at Falling.

With acute taste and an ability to meld disparate sounds together, bdrmm have a solid formula: radio-rock with more substance, nuance and historical awareness than most of their contemporaries.

A real gem, this bold album brimming with character begins the etching of Chatten’s name among music’s greats.

Unmistakably human touches are the key to the album’s balanced sound – still ominous and complex, but with less of an underground bunker feel than previous outings.

The Beggar is another solid entry into the Swans canon, if not one that suggests it will have the staying power of their classics. It still marks Swans as a group intent on developing long into their career, and there’s no threat of them losing their intensity.