Unforgettable, powerful, and easygoing all at once, Ragu’s maximalist debut is a special mark on the landscape from a new pop disruptor.

Hayter fervently straddles a line between proclamation and judgment, venting and preaching, deliverance and elitism. She is, perhaps, lost and saved at the same time, again wielding paradoxes with grace and ferocity.

My Big Day is a powerful offering from Bombay Bicycle Club. Vibrant, joyous, and completely delectable, the band have taken a daring U-turn from their usual breezy, laid-back numbers, and its paid off.

A slab of seventeen tracks, the bands ninth album has managed to pack enough dynamic twists and turns to make it feel like a joy ride rather than a struggling amble. Given the weight that One More Time... holds, it's an impressive feat and one that feels significant no matter which way you look at it.

No matter who it is, we know who Sampha is: a generational talent who has once again delivered a rich, emotional work for us to process. Lahai is phenomenal.

In true Simz fashion, conscious reflections unfold over the producer’s sprawling arrangements. NO THANK YOU makes certain that every gap is filled tastefully: bellowed vocal ad-libs and melodies (“X”); tasteful guitar tinkles (“Who Even Cares”); or sampled vocal interjections (“Heart On Fire” or “Sideways”).

It’s the subtle touches that create an overwhelming sense of unity on Goodnight.

The record isn’t a patch on his very best stuff, but compare Original Pirate Material to the work of the vast majority of artists and they’ll come up short. For every eye rolling moment, there are more than enough to make you glad The Streets are back.

Some tracks feel like throwaways, then there’s the TikTok and radio cuts like “IDGAF” with Yeat and ear-shattering production from BYNX (who has been killing it btw) and “Rich Baby Daddy” that aren’t particularly rap-savvy but benefit from extremely catchy tracks with a large number of producers.

Much like Sloppy Jane’s Madison, this record is an addition to American surrealism that is made to challenge the now complacent temperament of what is acceptably ‘experimental.’

Creeper are so excellent and effective in their various, otherworldly melodramas because they have so much heart. At the core of whatever undead guise they’ve wrapped it in this time, it’s beating strong and steady.

Between analyzing her own recent past with the empathy and allowances of an emotional anthropologist and the lazy precision of the grooves, Woods pairs harmony with righteousness like the inextricable twins they are.

Though bleak on the surface, through Jonny, Pierce finds himself embracing the chaos of life, reclaiming his childhood years in a cathartic and self-soothing project that aptly marks fifteen years of The Drums.

Something To Give Each Other isn’t changing the game or reinventing the musical wheel, but ask yourself: does it need to? It’s exactly what it needs to be, and it's done so incredibly well.

Her spontaneous naivete and heartfelt vocals, while inticing, somehow get lost in these glossy, large scale and commercial productions.

CMAT succeeds in making each track individually compelling, while simultaneously excelling in exploring her more abstract side. Crazymad, For Me shows CMAT to be in a world of her own, one that’s way ahead of the pack.

Whereas many of Lost & Found’s tracks felt stripped to their bare bones, most of the tracks here feel built from the ground up.

A deeply personal, Earth-moving masterpiece exploring relationship tensions with the gravitas of an apocalypse and the simplicity of a melody passed down through generations.

While The Patience is less conceptually rounded, and instead, a directive of bottled emotion and frustrations inevitably concluding with an artistic clarity, Mick Jenkins proves his worth goes beyond a label deal. Even firing loose cannons he’s a lethal voice with plenty to say.

There’s a self-assuredness that runs throughout the project. Crisp and crystalline, the cohesiveness alone make Diamond’s latest re-imagining of pop pretty much perfect, but it's her attention to detail that elevates it even higher. Lyrically she goes deeper than before, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the album takes a dark turn – in fact its sound is bright and bold.

The album’s sprawl also allows the stunning space-funk title track to spread its wings for full lift-off unhurriedly over 9 minutes until total resistance-shattering hypnosis has been achieved. If this is their Silver, Say She She’s gold must be out of this world.

As a complete body of work, it’s eclectic and begins how it ends: inconclusively. But as an entry into Armand Hammer’s growing canon of mastery, Test Strips is their headiest and most impressive work thus far.

The muted “Eat You Like A Pill” and FKA-Twigs-esque “Bad Habit” find their home in the warm comfort of swirling, breezy electronics and echoey vocal performances – offering a balanced, well-rounded edge to the record.

The sonic diversity, for a theme so enveloped in love, doesn’t sit right in a narrative album set in the age of protest. But it opens a door to many plausible pathways; his next big step is to choose wisely.

It’s those little moments that best prove that Slow Pulp themselves have found that same type of sweetness, and with it they’ve delivered their best project thus far.

The powerful, FIFA-ready indie rock is good and often great, but these spare, vulnerable songs are the record’s most powerful. Bakar is becoming one of the most distinct personalities in UK pop, and the more of him he shows us, the better he becomes.

Lovato’s move to heavier music is by no means a mistake, but this reimagining of her old music feels artificial. Generic pop music is turned into formulaic rock music, lacking the substance and authenticity of her previous album.

Nothing Lasts Forever, but Teenage Fanclub probably could if they so wished.