‘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’.

‘Typhoons’ occasionally misses the mark: the space created by the pair’s more chilled sonic approach isn’t filled. The songs here may be more melodic, more complex even on paper, but in reality there’s little there to truly grab hold of.

‘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.

‘Hassan Chop’ is a welcome reprieve towards the end, introducing some of the relentless punk drive of the band at their best, but it does little to revive the rebellious ethos ‘Let The Bad Times Roll’ clearly strives for. Forged from our current volatile climate this may be; an appropriately cutting and volatile response, however, it certainly is not.

‘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.

Sure, with ‘This Is Really Going To Hurt’, Flyte have successfully echoed the sounds of the past, but it’s all about as paper-thin as a yellow-hued Instagram filter.

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.

La Femme toss so many weird and interesting ideas against the wall, that for every gorgeous moment that sticks, there’s an awkward miss.

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!".

The issue is that, in conflating deliberation with maturity, ‘Today We’re the Greatest’ ends up feeling a little bit middle-of-the-road.

‘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.

Although accomplished in its tone, ‘I Won’t Care How You Remember Me’ longs for dynamic crescendos to differentiate the album’s eleven tracks, no matter how pleasant they may be.

‘When You See Yourself’ sounds like a jolt back into something potentially promising: there could still be life in the old Kings yet.

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.

The in-demand singer-songwriter-producer primes himself for new heights here - tapping into the hedonistic spirit of Studio 54, while applying a gloss that is very much of today.

‘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.

Winding orchestral flights propel ‘Innocent Weight’, in part redeeming an effort that covers little in the way of new ground, while timely lyrical takes command attention yet lack the frequency to shake off neighbouring songs sinking under their own unwieldy mass.

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.

Black Country, New Road’s seriousness and determined intellectualism is sometimes to their detriment.

TV Priest's debut is good but not necessarily enough to poke through the maelstrom quiet yet.

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.

If ‘Football Money’ was a full-hearted paean to the likes of Pavement and Archers of Loaf, then ‘Cooler Returns’ is the sound of Kiwi Jr moving forwards, planting their own flag in the power-pop ground.

Never overstaying its welcome, and always intriguingly structured, the lights might have come up, but the Belfast duo want to remind us that the memories and communities aren’t going anywhere.

A feather-light collection of alt-country, packed with pedal steel, lilting melodies and Buck’s own evocative Texan burr.

Ten tracks of orgasm-loving, empowering anthems, that pack a punch musically as well as lyrically, what’s not to love?

The latter half of the record segues together without pausing to come up for air - and you can bet your bottom dollar that once ‘all this’ has blown over and live music returns, these tracks will come into their own. Until then, crank up the volume and stomp around your prison cell.

A melting pot of the band’s real-life influences - with more elements of dance and hip hop thrown into their rock hybrid than ever before - this is a version of You Me At Six we’ve never seen before, and it’s certainly bold.

Not one for anyone who’s not already won over by the pair’s particular charms.

‘Petrichor’ is a passion project, all about indulging the kinds of whims that don’t fit the Hawk and a Hacksaw mould. On that front, she’s succeeded.

The result is a collection of biting, esoteric hymns that readily combine the earthly and the cosmic.

Come LP3, maybe they’ll reinvent themselves as a more wholesome proposition; for now, ‘Welfare Jazz’ stands as a document of a band that are perhaps more in limbo than they might first appear.

Adding another installment to a successful legacy is always a risk, but with ‘McCartney III’, all the icon’s beloved songwriting quirks are out in full force. A more than worthy third prong of the trilogy.

Though a round-up such as this technically shines a light on a group of tracks that, at their simplest, weren’t good enough to make it onto a studio album, ‘Little Bastards’ doesn’t feel that way.

Whether it matches up to its self-proclaimed sister record or not, 2020 has seen Taylor Swift deliver over two hours of the most relatable stories in contemporary pop. There are lyricists and there are storytellers, and in a year of uncertainty and inconsistency, Taylor Swift has emerged as the most assured songwriter of her generation.

There are occasional flickers of inspiration - see the maximalist rework of ‘Elite’ from Blanck Mass and the minimalist ‘Teenager’ that Robert Smith contributed - but otherwise, you have to hope that everybody involved enjoyed putting Black Stallion together, because it ain’t much fun to listen to.

The band’s trademark sampledelic sound provides a tasteful glimpse of the familiar, while also sidestepping overt pastiche, remaining consistently fresh throughout.

The Leeds-based group’s long-delayed debut might not offer much in variety (in short, if you’re into a combination of those groups’ [Gengahr, Bombay Bicycle Club or alt-J] sounds, you’re going to love it), but in our current long, dark winter nights there’s a nostalgic tint to the songs on offer, whether the bassy synths of the title track, or folky ‘Smorgasbord’ that hits right in the warm and fuzzies.

Biting and abrasive in the best kind of ways, ‘Nightmare Vacation’ finds an artist stepping up into the hype that’s been surrounding her for years, and delivering on it tenfold. It will chew you up and spit you out, and you’ll love every minute of it.

The record feels more like opening a time capsule than self-congratulation; as if that 2011 statement locked a door we’re only now allowed to peek back into. Also crucially, many of the songs here were never even released as singles. ... The breadth and depth of how much they did while still keeping it (relatively) simple is so evident.

It’s refreshing to see that the band aren’t content to solely focus on nostalgia trips, and there are some great moments here - the dark driving force of ‘Wyttch’ stands out - but with such a hefty run time, it’s difficult to really tap into the heart of ‘Cyr’.

Miley's seventh era seems to be the one that suits her best, her huge vocals and penchant for penning irresistible melodies lending themselves with ease to big growling rock-leaning anthems.

Richly nuanced, effortlessly cool and at times beautifully bleak, ‘Home for Now’ feels like the sound of Babeheaven finding their feet in an atmosphere of uncertainty.

‘Night Network’, far from being the exercise in kicking and screaming that it might have been, is instead a study in elegance in the face of adversity. The Cribs are back.

Katy J Pearson’s debut manage to make the oldest sound of musical heartbreak somehow seem, if not fully modern, then at least fairly timeless.

The signs for the band’s third aren’t too rosy, and yet their latest does go some way to showing the defter touch they first struck out with.

Nothing here will quite fulfill the satisfaction of her original work, but as a fun, thoughtful way to ground oneself during quarantine, ‘Covers' is an audition that is guaranteed to see her through to the next round.

Imbued throughout with a fusion of Pa’s Gambian heritage, and life growing up in Coventry (“COV, #cityofviolence” introduces ‘Informa’), it’s a varied, confident and cinematic trip through where the performer finds himself.

Opener ‘Happen To Me’ has echoes of The Japanese House’s introspection, and the acoustic nature of ‘Same Effect’ and ‘A Little While’ bear more than a passing similarity to Billie Eilish’s quieter moments. Add to that the cosign of alt-pop foremothers Lily Allen (‘Plain’) and Grimes (‘Sheesh’) and BENEE’s on to a winner.