As they continue to challenge conventions and push boundaries, while still being utterly and completely themselves, Protomartyr stand tall as a testament to the enduring spirit of innovation that defines Detroit's rich musical history.

Unwilling to finish on “14”’s vulnerability, Water From Your Eyes keep us at arm’s length, but eager to burrow deep and discover everything this album has to offer.

With an album this good, feeble little horse are bound for the winner's circle. For now, though, the grass looks plenty green right where they're standing.

Miya Folick orbits and sometimes grasps something transcendent about living through unprecedented times on ROACH.

The result is a sequence that sounds more expansive and sublimely mapped, yet perhaps less combustive, less raggedly urgent. I.e., Monolith is triumphant on its own terms.

While no wheels have been reinvented, The Show is far from a bad record. If you’ve spent any time trying to imagine what a new Niall album would sound like, you’re probably pretty close.

PARANOÏA isn’t without flaw; some tracks work more as spoken poems than as songs due to their slack, unmoving instrumentation. But at almost 100 minutes, Chris’ most astounding work yet expands his craftsmanship to territories surprisingly well-suited for him.

At only 32 minutes and housing five interludes, The Age of Pleasure is slim on ideas and music. It would be more successful if she followed the same pattern of zinging between genre and form effortlessly like on Dirty Computer, but this record largely sticks to reggae and funk, leading to a slower, more lax mood.

Sitting at ten tracks long, the amusingly titled Party Gator Purgatory whisks through freeform rap (“lookaliveandplaydead”), chilling electronics, and almost cacophonous vocals to make, what could be argued, as the most bizarrely interesting record of the 21st century.

Last Man Dancing is a party to escape to when life gets a little bit too much, and it delivers on its mission statement with abundance.

Undoubtedly Bully’s best album yet, Lucky For You is the culmination of growing up and dealing with the shit stuff; death, the world, etc. But it never wallows in the mire. Instead it jumps up, hair flying wildly, and sticks a middle finger in the air, ready to kick out the jams.

Throughout Shadow Kingdom, Dylan is found virtually savouring the sweet taste of his lyrics, applying care, precision and masterful phrasing that renders the results really quite beautiful.

It’s a record that feels like a cosy hub of creative minds reminiscing about their memories – unhurried and finely reflective. Sadly, that’s much about it.

Ironically for an album so deeply immersed in the past and the all-enveloping shadow of a famous parent, the album provides that Dury’s talents require no piggybacking on anyone else’s fame: this is the real deal.

The stories she unveils here can get dull and repetitive – as they are designed to be relatable to as wide an audience as possible – but the way she tells them is, more often than not, captivating enough to sit through the 3-minute runtime.

As a whole it's a fine addition to the Foo Fighters catalogue – but that’s not the point of this album. .... This is a reminder that the Foo fighters are a band bigger than any individual member - including Grohl. They're a rock band that, even when the going gets tough, know that there's a job to do and there's no better way to deal with life than throwing together some ringing chords and belting the dark clouds away.

Doing what it says on the tin, My Soft Machine is powerfully subtle, and reasserts Parks’ ability to capture and alleviate negative emotions, while simultaneously furthering her exploration of the sound that put her on the map.

AI could never replicate the unique balance between deranged imagination and supreme sanity that is the mark of a great Sparks record like this.

Never has Kesha's music felt this inspiringly rich. It has all the potential of once again making her a staple on the music scene, and this time even beyond pop.

Some listeners may miss the rawer sounds and leanings of her debut and the instrumental adventurousness of her second album, as Lahey wends her way through a less incendiary and more restrained sequence. Still, she employs volume dynamics skillfully, her melodies are consistently enrolling, and her lyrics, at once colourful patter, empathetic pep-talk, and a vehicle for catharsis, are aptly accessible.

Whilst there’s a great range of material to lose yourself in here, it can at some points feel a little like (Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality is composed of many different albums – switching swiftly as they do between ideas from song to song. Your mileage will vary, and the excited mixture of material did little to affect my enjoyment of the album, but it’s worth pointing out nonetheless.

It may not be revolutionary in its music or pantomime, with some evident missteps. Still, the secret society is doing a world of good by exposing a gamut of fans to the many genre-bending tricks they possess.

Broken By Desire To Be Heavenly Sent is a triumphant return from Capaldi. There’s plenty that’s consistent with his debut.

Tracey Denim manages that difficult task, of creating an album that feels like a self-contained world without losing sight of songs that really work in and of themselves.

The Love Invention isn’t quite the crown grab it has the potential to be, despite her being on brilliant form as always.

The Album is a solid effort of accessible pop-rock, and to expect any more or less from Jonas Brothers would be foolhardy.

On What’s Your Pleasure? though Ware sounds simply like a serious star, on an album where she finally has the confidence to commit to her most theatrical tendencies and cut loose at the same time. The effect is liberating in the way disco always intended.

With Ali Chant on production duties, Cloth seem to have found the fullest version of themselves. There is an added intent to tracks such as “Lido”, as Rachael and Paul bring their most interesting ideas to the fore, instead of burying them in the mix.