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.

Name Your Sorrow sees band-wide experimentation, instrument swapping, and post-production revision, resulting in a colourful, varied record.

On this latest opus, Washington and company are a tightened-drum of an ensemble that effortlessly flit between an intense focus and a playful freedom, and the results are stunning.

It’s testament to Clark’s self-assured and enigmatic oeuvre: indeed, she still holds surprises for us yet.

Justice may have struggled to reach the dizzying heights of their 2007 debut Cross, but Hyperdrama is a convincing, exciting venture in its own right.

These nine tracks prioritise serenity and beauty in their evocation of some unknowable beyond. Their sparkle can become almost too perfect, which makes the dark abruptness of the last two pieces feel like release, even if they throw its general hopefulness into uncertainty.

Every track on sentiment feels like a late-night phone call from a close friend; when the album stops, you find yourself missing the voice on the other end.

If I don't make it, I love u is magnificent, the peak of their recorded output to date, the sound of a band solidifying and pushing forward into something genuinely their own. A truly brilliant piece of work.

Unfortunately, it seems like the record's runtime was set before material was allotted to the space, unleashing a high-octane sugar rush in a space fit to dilute it into the unbearableness of being palatable. There are worse things.

This debut comes from immense, fruitful collaboration. A collaboration between beings, instruments, melodies and spaces that offer room to listen, reflect and become.

It's a sage document precisely because it embraces that which can’t be figured out: what life has next in store.

This debut LP sees English Teacher beginning to consolidate and take the already-delicious sounds introduced on their Polyawkward EP to even greater heights.

Sunshine in music form, A LA SALA is another stellar addition to Khruangbin’s blissful repertoire.

Hope is the longest VW song ever at eight minutes, but it never meanders despite its repetition. Instead it points toward the restless creativity that the band have never lacked, and that Only God Was Above Us demonstrates all too clearly.

A timely and exciting collection of songs.

Throughout, Jlin's command over rhythm and texture make what could be too impenetrable a blast to hear.

It’s an album that worms its way into you, slowly revealing more and more of itself with each listen, layers of intricacies shifting beneath its drifting beauty.

Real Power is a lot of fun, though at points it seems to sacrifice bite in favour of a certain kind of generic polish.

Rodriquez’s most cohesive and ambitious work to date.

She can’t do any wrong at the minute; this is timeless songwriting, and Tigers Blood is a worthy successor to Saint Cloud.

Bright Future provides exactly that: a run of songs that captivates in plentiful colour.

Perhaps this new album doesn’t match the immediate wow factor of Whack World – few albums ever could – but regardless, we should be thankful Tierra Whack is out there doing her thing; making mainstream hip-hop interesting.

The Great Bailout, while resting handily within her trademark virulent atmospheres and spoken word, is among her most impenetrable and least entertaining from a practical sense. This is not a fault of the record, but a necessary and expected byproduct of its existence, as each track runs up to ten minutes in a dirge of menacing poetry with instrumentals more evocative of a sinister mood-piece than a traditional song