Standouts such as Run a Red Light and No One Knows We’re Dancing provide clubland demimonde vignettes, while a number of expansive, impressionistic sound-beds allow for more matter-of-fact lyrics about loss (Lost) and cutting oneself some slack (When You Mess Up). Less memorable are the songs – like Caution to the Wind - where the two coast pellucidly along.

For all Hetfield’s soul-baring, however, as a whole 72 Seasons seems to mark the end of their late-career renaissance and is ultimately far more solid than spectacular.

Voice Notes is conceptually and musically accomplished, flourishing with inspired narratives and sensuality at every turn. It seamlessly blends jazz, soul and electronica without overpowering the singer-songwriter’s supple vocals. There’s so much to love and savour.

The record is a career highlight from an accomplished artist producing luscious, storytelling music from experiences so foundational that they defy neat narrative.

While it’s an emotional listen, I Came From Love is not a difficult record, musically.

The usual downside of a live recording is that you’re left with a somewhat faint imprint of the feeling in the moment. But this album elevates the form, and further marks Dawid out as one of the most vital avant-garde artists of her time.

This 13-track album is a more emphatic, even angry work charting her emotional evolution [than mixtape What We Drew].

Her singing is excellent throughout, whether coolly confident on Be On Your Way’s account of letting a long-distance relationship lapse, or glassy and slightly numbed during Party’s hymn to hard-won sobriety. It takes a while to absorb how cleverly arranged songs such as Junkmail and Future Lover are, as 12 Ensemble’s delicate string orchestration adorns robust performances from Haefeli and Aguilella.

Backed by a gospel choir, 16-piece string section and horn fanfares, HMLTD confidently tackle musical styles as varied as choral harmony (Worm’s Dream), hook-laden soul (The End Is Now), grungy rock (Saddest Worm Ever) and plaintive pop balladry (Lay Me Down). ... It’s this richness that gives the album its depth, harnessing a large ensemble to showcase HMLTD as a band capable of committing to grand visions with brilliant intensity.

The result is magnificent: “dance” music that bursts out of the grid with retro textures, prelapsarian oscillations, birdsong and bells.

Ultimately, this is a fragmented listen – the sound of Bailey attempting to find her feet and stumbling as much as she succeeds.

Oon The Record, Baker, Bridgers and Dacus pack layer upon layer into their sound, standing tall and exquisite.

It’s a sprightly, restless set, with Segal’s plucked cello providing a thrumming heartbeat to what is a communal, improvisational approach. ... This is truly fusion music.

Ultimately, this is the work of an artist in transition, catering to old fans and well-trodden styles while attempting to settle on something new.

Sprawling. ... Engrossing, audacious record.

There’s warmth in the album’s fusion of industrial grind with delicate melody, and producer James Ford sparks a revivifying weirdness in songs such as My Cosmos Is Mine. For a record preoccupied by death, its big heart bursts with life.

A handful of derangedly catchy singles have already rolled off the tracklist, highlighting the pair’s fluency with nagging melodies and killer hooks. The glorious Mememe still offers up an earworm crafted from bass and tinnitus.

Like her previous EPs, this latest release showcases Archives’ versatility, demonstrating how jungle lends itself to updates as varied as Brazilian party music, jazzy side notes and lo-fi introspection.

Mostly Radical Romantics is witty, inquisitive about physical and psychological relationships, and less austere than before. The songs produced with Olof are excellent.

An affecting album of depth and beauty.

A small step back in the right direction, but at times they still sound somewhat leaden.

Her more experimental material can be heavier going: the sparkling funk of Pump’s first half gives way to an interminable coda that’s far more annoying than clever.

This is, simultaneously, a very Albarn-forward, state-of-the-world Gorillaz record, and one packed with guests channelling different energies.

The human guests all serve some purpose. ... But the instrumental tracks that don’t bother with female vocals, or opera, are just better.

Patchy but playful in places, Trustfall is reliably Pink.

here’s a touch of pastiche on the doo wop of Thrill Is Gone, but overall the record showcases a self-assured songwriter, capable of producing swaggering floor-fillers. My 21st Century Blues is Keen’s artistic rebirth. Long may it continue.

The New Jersey trio’s most engaging album since 2000’s And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out.

Here, she unfurls a sequence of eight originals bound together by a cascade of imagery drawn largely from nature, in particular the bird kingdom, “a lawless league of lonesome beauty” the singer yearns to join.