Broadening the creative scope, Half Waif is given the space to breathe both lyrically and musically. ‘Mythopoetics’ glides from the stripped back piano and layered vocals of opener ‘Fabric’ and the intimate closer ‘Powder’ to the electronic flourishes that have elevated Nandi’s sound across four prior records.

On ‘Utopian Ashes’, Bobby Gillespie and Jehnny Beth breathe new life into an old formula, and surface triumphant.

Punchy, fun and beautifully constructed, ‘Pink Noise’ is the triumphant sound of Laura Mvula finding her feet. A career-defining return that most artists can only dream of; pure synth-pop ecstasy.

‘Contender’ is a marked step forwards from one of Britain’s more endearingly idiosyncratic indie rock outfits.

Throughout the record, Doja has the method for seeing soaring stats down: Instagram caption ready lyrical quips, a flurry of famous pals (The Weeknd and JID also appear), and an effortless kaleidoscopic pop soundtrack backing it all up.

On the whole, the impact of their whip-smart offerings is striking, throughout the album’s staggering seventeen tracks, it does become easy to get a little lost.

Endearing and relatable without ever lapsing into total fondue, Faye Webster knows exactly how to roll with life’s punches, how to find the humour in a vulnerable moment. She knows she’s funny, but we think she’s pretty smart.

At every moment ‘Home Video’ presents a vivid snapshot into an upbringing that fundamentally defines Lucy Dacus’ adulthood. In each tale she finds both loss and hope, a musical representation of the intricate jigsaw of life.

This is not quite Modest Mouse at their best, but they’re not a million miles away from it, either.

A joy to listen to, full of crisp production, clear and emotive vocals, and genuine superstar presence - 2021 could well be Griff’s year.

There’s a real energy emanating from mini-album ‘Broken Hearts & Beauty Sleep’ that very much echoes the artist’s sentiment. A glorious trip through all facets of Mykki’s musical personality.

Tom isn’t reinventing the wheel here, but he knows what he’s good at; ‘Miracle’ is a skillfully crafted record.

Full of surprising innovations, it errs constantly between confusion and brilliance.

In fully embracing theatrics, their new wave leanings, and the unquestionable punk legacy, the band have landed on a sound both contemporary and unmistakably theirs.

Yet as overt and outwardly targeted the likes of ‘The Men Who Rule The World’ and ‘Godhead’ are (“would you deceive me if I had a dick?” Shirley asks on the latter), the album finds space for the introversion that has previously allowed Garbage to cross over.

For the most part, though, what ‘Path of Wellness’ signifies is Sleater-Kinney pulling away from their past, towards an era likely to lean heavily not just on their pop sensibilities, but on the move beyond the old push-and-pull relationship between the now-duo - a songwriting bond once defined by their differences has given way to a seamless understanding.

Not everything about ‘BUMMER’ is fully perfected just yet, but there’s plenty to feel upbeat about.

Beautifully constructed, surprising and brimming with invention - looking back at all the incredible music Rostam’s been a part of over the years, it feels as if he’s saved a little for himself on ‘Changephobia’.

All-in-all, ‘Man Made’ is an impressively accomplished, ever-giving record that rarely fails to enchant.

‘Jubilee’ finds its creator older and wiser with melody, lyrics and storytelling pulling focus in a fashion that cements Michelle Zauner as a true creative force to be reckoned with. From here on out, Japanese Breakfast can go anywhere and we’ll follow.

‘Soberish’ sounds more like her early work, with its lo-fi stylings and ramshackle guitars. Lyrically, this record teases her more sentimental side, but even then, she openly admits to not wanting to reveal her true self to the listener.

Documenting her journey with clarity and confidence, ‘Monthly Friend’ is an accomplished album that shows off Zoe Mead’s command.

‘Blue Weekend’ is an album that revels in its feelings. The dynamics are constantly shifting, often moving from tender sparsity to luxurious sonic opulence in the same song, but everything feels like the absolute peak of what it could be.

‘Life’s A Beach’’s lasting impact is its confrontation of depression and self-doubt: this is a record that will make you feel deeply as well as provide a soundtrack for your first post-lockdown festival.

The instrumentals are lo-fi but bear a charm, and find Kele offering up his best guitar work in years.

'Cavalcade' is the sound of a band looking to broaden their horizons, but building from a sound already so idiosyncratic and unpredictable, they end up in some head-scratching corners. It's still thrillingly entertaining nonetheless.

All in all, it is as engrossing as it is innocently delightful.

When it works, it really works.

Less wildly daring than its predecessors, yet remaining totally assured in its vision, ‘Seeking New Gods’ stands as another finely-crafted addition to Gruff Rhys’ illustrious repertoire.

‘Flora Fauna’ is the sound of a measured spreading of Billie Marten’s wings - of careful progress. She’s still really young: there’s more to come.

We’d never want CHAI to lose their pep, but there’s something pleasing about watching them grow into something new.

It’s a record of two halves; the former a collection of evocative vignettes, the latter a vehicle for her impressive vocal. And while the latter does have its moments - closer ‘Weekend’ is the kind of sprawling epic that brings to mind earlier Jessie Ware - it’s in the first half, shorn of any jazzy accompaniment, that ‘Be Right Back’ is truly interesting.

On all fronts, with ‘Daddy’s Home’, St Vincent has delivered spectacularly.

The singer-songwriter’s most comprehensive release to date, turns up the production slickness while sacrificing none of his affable, boyish charm.

Despite its flaws ‘Blood Bunny’ does a great job to showcase what this bright young star has to offer.

Charming, tender and admirably vulnerable, ‘Build A Problem’ is a profoundly freeing reflection on the struggles of youth, growth and identity.

A rollercoaster ride of diverse influences, the album takes us everywhere from nods to the freewheeling indie rock of ‘90s Jesus and Mary Chain (‘Dear Saint Cecilia’) to glossy, sixties-inflected love letters (‘Drink Rain’), via handsome, string-backed introspection (‘Love Kills Slowly’) and, on the standout ‘High & Hurt’, there’s a thrilling rework at the midpoint of the classic hymn ‘Will the Circle Be Unbroken?’ that imbues it with moody menace.

Squid always seemed destined to have an epic album in them, and they’ve delivered just that.

‘Life In Your Glass World’ never shies away from its obvious love for more mainstream-friendly rock, more often than not hitting the mark. The band thrive in their more overt indie moments but lose traction on the likes of the more pedestrian ‘Thin Air’ or the experimental electronics of ‘Fight Beat’.

‘if i could make it go quiet’ has all the qualities of a blockbuster pop record - incessant hooks, A-list producer credits - but hone in on each track and you’ll find intimate vignettes that are fully-formed in themselves.

A record that feels dynamic and vital - while still respecting the band’s legacy so far - ‘The Million Masks of God’ is astonishing.

Emotionally honest, across its twelve tracks the group detail feelings of longing, losing your sense of self and awaiting something more in a wholly atmospheric manner. Ripping up their rulebook? Hardly. Giving long-time fans something new to enjoy? You bet.

Lyrically precise, and musically enriched with radical keyboard flourishes and arresting song-structures, what is most impressive about ‘Civilisation II’ is how KKB manage to tackle such worldly themes without ever sounding contrived. It’s a testament to a band continuously looking to innovate.

There are playful moments - a self-referential take on Cat Stevens’ ‘Pop Star’, in which the 80-year-old icon declares his showbiz intentions, chief among them - but the album is best when it embraces the singer’s age, experience and stature.

From a band capable of biting social commentaries and intense concept albums about the First World War, this latest, fluffier episode in the Field Music saga is a solid record that does everything you’d ever hope a Field Music album would do.

A decent album, then. Not a great one, but one that can still hold its own against any other indie rock album released this year. There’s life in these old veterans yet.

CLAMM may not be the first group to venture out into the fuzzy Australian wilderness, but with Beseech Me, they’ve shown they might just be the best.

‘Music’ is clean listening at its finest. The formula works well but that doesn’t mean the LP is lacking in surprises.

‘Roadrunner…’ sees Brockhampton silencing any of those who feared they might have lost their spark. It’s a record that - if it is truly one of their last - sees the lads going out with a bang.

What the streamlined sound of ‘Homecoming’ lacks in broad musical scope, it more than makes up for in attitude.

Ultimately, there’s a charming purity that runs through ‘New Long Leg’, and a sense that Dry Cleaning wasn’t the product of a masterplan. Instead it’s the by-product of the lives they were already leading which gives an uncompromising human quality to this debut.

In and out of the studio, Ryley Walker has been one of indie rock’s more colourful characters for a while now; ‘Course in Fable’ only reinforces that view.

Xiu Xiu have recorded a 12th album that is an interesting listen, but rarely an easy one. It’s unlikely to win them any new followers, but existing fans won’t be disappointed.

‘DEACON’ confidently celebrates love in all its spiritual glory, with an unwavering focus on the good. In his sweetest moments, serpentwithfeet’s joy is palpable, paired with an unwavering sensuality that underpins each of the album’s eleven tracks.

Though unlikely to win over those who weren’t already fans, ‘sketchy.’ is a more mature offering than previous Tune-Yards records though still retains much of the tripped-out whimsy that first made them so infectious.

Melancholy, meticulous and achingly grand, it extends his artistic narrative in resplendent form.

At 15 tracks long, he occasionally falters under the weight of his own abundance, but there are so many great sweets in the pick’n’mix bag that you don’t really mind the odd underwhelming chew.

An elegiac, introverted release that feels more like a late-career meditation than the victory lap for "NFR!".

‘Written & Directed’ sees the quartet evolving into the rock outfit they’d always threatened to be.

What ‘Great Spans…’ may lack in coherence, it makes up for with occasional moments of sheer beauty.

Underlining everything is a sense that he’s playing to his musical strengths, both in terms of the way he incorporates so many aspects of his sonic calling card; droll lyricism, field recordings, off-kilter melodies, and a general sense that he’s having the analog and the electronic meet at deliberately awkward junctures - making it all the more impressive when, counterintuitively, the kind of clashes that define ‘Nightmare Scenario’ or ‘Starlight’ actually work strikingly well.

Records like this always sound deceptively simple when done properly; if it were as easy as Adult Mom makes it sound to write pop gems this endearing in their honesty, everybody would be doing it.

Powerful, but in an entirely different way to its predecessor, it’s a record which further proves that the strength of Hayley Williams - as a songwriter, a vocalist, a woman - is still awe-inspiring.

It’s Ghetts’ ability to paint rich scenes and his breadth of unabashed honesty that animates his comeback into a fully-fledged triumph. Although meticulously crafted under Ghetts’ famed perfectionist nature, it’s pure; neither shunning the light or the dark across the 16 tracks. He lets it all show.

Their boldest, most exciting switch-flip in years.

Musically rose-tinted, ‘Poster Girl’ is pure pop escapism.

Aidan’s scathing wit is more incendiary than ever: the vivid, often lurid portraits he paints of the society around him feel more vital than ever, as does his ability to navigate them with a grim chuckle.

While ‘Harlecore’ may be primed to bring the party, it’s just not quite the mad one we were hoping for.

Despite the swirling joy of ‘Julie’ also making for a high point, moments like these aren’t consistent enough to propel ‘Banane Bleue’ towards its potential peaks. They do however show that, when he delivers, Frànçois can still make pure, earnest, and enduring connections.

‘Carnage’ is a jewel in the Cave-Ellis cannon. A thrilling piece of work that sources a sweet-spot between the unbound introspection of the Bad Seeds’ recent work and the furious fire lit beneath Grinderman and The Birthday Party.

Much like what has come before, it’s in this melancholic in-between that ‘Little Oblivions’ finds its voice; a soundtrack for those searching for hope in difficult times, particularly when the wider world has removed easy distraction from the pain.

There’s no upturning of the band’s musical blueprint, but their social conscience has earned them a third act, with ‘Nature Always Wins’ a potent way to open it.

Raw and uncompromising, yet always harbouring a degree of melody, it’s the product of ten years of learning, and succeeds in deftly balancing subtle nuance with a sense of uncompromising aggression.

‘For Those That Wish to Exist’ is both furious in spirit and epic in scope. A sprawling fifteen-track opus that runs just shy of an hour, it tackles the weighty issues of the day head on.

Though often an album of departures, ‘Try Harder’ works to find new ground to walk upon.

‘Trauma Factory’ is overlong and occasionally indulgent, but if those are the terms under which Joe is operating, then this daring, forward-thinking genre piece is worth the price of admission.

As expected, the album’s only low moment comes with the introduction of vocals on ‘Richie Sacramento’. Thankfully, this doesn’t last long. The group are soon back on top of things with the majestic ‘Drive The Nail’ and we’re instantly transported back to their uniquely-formed wonderland.

There’s little in the way of new ground broken here, but it's consistent nonetheless.

Fusing an eclectic mix of genres together, Virginia Wing’s definitive experimental style continues to be electrifyingly alluring.

It takes a certain wide-eyed energy to make cracking pop music, something Pale Waves definitely possess - and though ‘Who Am I?’ isn’t quite the bastion of empowerment it was intended to be, it has some glimmering moments.

While there could be a little more individuality on show to elevate Claud to their contemporaries’ level, ‘Super Monster’ shows promise of a burgeoning artist finding their own voice.

The puffier-chested side of his persona is still perfectly enjoyable, but when he packs away his bluster for the second half of the record, he creates something truly memorable.

Whether the group’s sound prevails or begins to show its limitations remains to be seen, but when the songwriting and appetite for invention remains this strong, Django Django certainly have a lot more to give.

It cements ‘Going To Hell’ as a celebration of personal freedom, and the unwavering right for people to be afforded the opportunity to be comfortable in themselves.

Buoyed by newfound feelings of hope and of anticipation, the record feels more encompassing than anything the band have released previously. This is a result of a more direct and collaborative effort, with producer Danny Reisch adding extra layers of synth and percussion to really flesh things out.

It’s comforting like an old blanket. Perhaps a bit itchy in places, but when things get cold it’s just what you need.

While at times he toys with jazz (‘Velvet Dreams’ and ‘Oil Slick’) these moments are fleeting enough to be endured, safe in the knowledge that we’ll be taken back to the fluffy R&B dreamland before long. Sunday nights might never be the same again.

After such a long time away, ‘Good Woman’ finds The Staves rejuvenated and inspired, treading new ground while retaining the identity that made them so loveable in the first place. For all the trials bestowed upon the trio in the past few years, they emerge positive and victorious, changing and creating music on their own terms as echoed on closer ‘Waiting On Me To Change.’

With sticky melodies and a spring in its step, ‘Medicine At Midnight’ is an experiment that pays off, simultaneously adding a new shade to their sound and injecting a dose of fun and escapism when we need it most.

Unperturbed by overkill, the anthemic choral hooks and supercharged production values deliver a thrilling spectacle, even if the band are yet to realise their inflated ambitions.

It’s the same melodies and patterns as the group have long favoured, but even the potentially cringeworthy ‘Screens’ (a song about, of course, how we’re all glued to them) barely raises a shrug when surrounded by such luscious, bombastic sounds. By focusing on minutiae, too, what is ostensibly a lockdown album (hello, reference to Zoom interviews) avoids cliche.

Her raspy tones give way to huge notes, effortless in their delivery. No moment feels forced or out of place.

Packed full of bright ideas and moreish hooks, ‘Dead Hand Control’ is a hopeful document about finding peace in your relationships and immediate surroundings, even when the world is on fire.

‘Collapsed In Sunbeams’ is an excellent character study, of both Arlo herself and the people who orbit around her.

The quartet’s ability to instrumentally weave among each other has always been one of their great strengths, and here (with the addition of new bassist Holly Mullineaux) the band sound more unified than ever, able to spin strange sonic tales all the better as a result. A triumph.

This is no blistering return, but a pleasant one nonetheless. Fuzzy and frustrated, much like its title, the tension throughout ‘Ongoing Dispute’ frequently threatens to bubble over into fury, but is always brought back.

Backed up by powerful guitars and soaring vocals, their brand of intense but atmospheric rock feels rejuvenating - and is perhaps even a tonic.

In places, they can be a little too on-the-nose - ‘Till We Meet Again’, for instance, literally has some Lynchian ‘ethereal whooshing’ whistling away in the background for much of it, at least before a freewheeling guitar solo salvages proceedings - but ‘The Last Exit’ is largely worthy of the cultural touchpoints it so proudly nods to.