Vince Staples is a worthy continuation of his oeuvre, and proof if it were needed that his paradox of youthful energy and world-weary cynicism remains as captivating as ever.

Like many of their peers and contemporaries from Bill Callahan to Superchunk, the thrill with a new Mountain Goats record is just how similar it’ll be to your favourite thing they’ve done in the past. And this is, well, pretty close to your favourite (whatever that may be…).

It’s immensely, moreishly listenable. Gillespie and Beth work well as narrators and protagonists. She spritely and unbowed; he simultaneously vengeful and regretful.

At just eight tracks and clocking in at 40 minutes, Former Things is never in any danger of outstaying its welcome. There’s an argument to be had that some variety could improve the record, as there’s a definite template being stuck to. That’s not necessarily a bad thing though – LoneLady’s third album is the sound of an artist expanding her musical horizons and reaping the rewards.

It continues a run of quality that stretches all the way back to her debut.

It is a special piece of work, reaffirming Avery’s position as one of the most consistent and exciting electronic artists at work today. We need to keep him under close observation.

Home Video is also Dacus’ most immediate, accessible album to date. While the general tone is quite downbeat, but she can switch to crunchy power-pop on tracks like Hot & Heavy and First Time.

On the whole this is a significant artistic leap, a progressive album of dazzling stylistic pluralities that demands attention.

Captivating in all its eccentricities, evocative and groovy in equal measure, with this album Augé well and truly proves himself as an artist in his own right.

Preacher’s Sigh & Potion finds Dear mostly content with spinning his wheels, but luckily his unique style and vocal delivery make it an enjoyable spinning.

Boy From Michigan is not an easy album to get to grips with, nor is it one for background listening. For those willing to put the work in, this is another invigorating missive from one of music’s finest minds.

Pedestrian isn’t going to grab you by the throat or rip up trees, being both pedestrian in name and largely in nature too. But don’t let that put you off; the pace may be rather ‘foot off the gas’ but its subtlety is endearing, as is the vulnerability displayed by Bloom’s vocals.

No alarms, no surprises (unless you count a few surprising moves into bossa nova), but it does make for a lovely listen.

Present Tense is yet another unusually powerful invitation to savour a few abominable maledictions by these wicked vagabonds.

Electronic Music Improvisations Vol. 1 does what it says on the tin, but transcends curio status through Miller and Jones’ unique musicality and verve.

This is a quiet album, simmering with authenticity and potential.

A deep, meaningful and purposefully intimate rock ‘n’ roll record. But what sets this apart from the other LN&POTR albums is that is doesn’t borrow from the past so much as showcase their own strain of cosmic heartland rock.

Concise and defined, the 10 tracks here distill Marina’s thoughts on modern day society and all its horrors into a short, sharp shock. ... If there’s anything the album lacks though it’s some of the knowing playfulness of her previous work.

The production, by Foy herself together with Harry Fausing Smith, is perfectly judged, coating these songs in a warm yet otherworldly air. It’s unlikely that you’ll hear a collection of songs so striking and attention-grabbing. And, as impressive as this debut album is, the most exciting thing about it is that it hints at even greater things to come.

Strange Little Birds from 2016 was a belting return to form for Garbage, and although No Gods No Masters has its moments, it’s not quite at the same level. Mainly written pre-lockdown, it strangely fits the current world probably better than it would have done if released earlier, though.

Soberish marks the welcome return of an artist at last comfortable with her legacy and ready to celebrate it.

This album certainly is a rush, and it’s also the best Japanese Breakfast album to date.

Blue Weekend is Wolf Alice’s best work yet – a confident, euphoric, blistering 40 minutes that’s guaranteed to be on many people’s ‘best of’ lists at the end of the year.

Man Made suffers from too much material, not enough editorial oversight, and not nearly enough inspired composition.

Dreamers Are Waiting is a very welcome return for a band who have been away for far too long.

This is another instalment of quietly intriguing music, ornate and intricate, but also organic and alive. It’s good to inhabit her world once again.

Even at its most introspective, All The Colours Of You is an often invigorating return from a band who, despite their veteran status, still have their collective finger on the pulse.

Blackberry Smoke are the ultimate antidote to bad vibes, and You Hear Georgia is more than just escapist fun, it’s a superb record.

Clara is a supremely accomplished record, and deserves to sit with previous career highlights like Submers and Monument Builders as a masterclass in abstract electronica.

Reprise offers a pleasant, even graceful but ultimately insubstantial retrospective of an artist who can be fascinating when he’s not overly focused on his pleasant, insubstantial brand.

This music is less underplayed than a confident expression of mid-life experience.

Numan’s consistency is also his biggest downfall. There’s simply no reason to listen to Intruder if you’ve heard any of the albums he’s released in the past decade, because it’s virtually identical to his previous works.

While there may not be anything to rival their breakout hit The Night We Met for ubiquity, much of the band’s fourth album sounds like the sort of warm hug that many people are desperately searching out for right now.

Skellig is a searching piece of work. Beautifully constructed, it is at times uncomfortably sparse and weather-beaten, but its resilient head remains unbowed at the end. As an image of humanity through and after the pandemic it comes into clear focus, providing solace for those who need it too.

Seeking New Gods is simultaneously thought provoking, questioning, elegant and unsettled – but it is fundamentally a feelgood album. We find Gruff Rhys at his most natural, his winning blend of a slight, endearing shyness balanced by extrovert, psychedelic tendencies.

Shining a searchlight on new terrains for themselves, Fly Pan Am have generously quenched our insatiable appetite for revealing non linear melodramas. Causing a staggering commotion, this sometimes inscrutable, yet eminently danceable, album is a passport to uncover alien customs and engage in orgiastic corporeal activities.

It all adds up to another fascinating entry in the ever-evolving Lambchop spectrum, all slow texture, repurposed approaches and augmented familiarity. Showtunes then, but for an alternative world where unhurried immersion and quiet advancement are key.

The Power Of Rocks is a deceptively calm affair, so feel free to roll up your jeans and wade in. Just brace yourself for how crisp and punchy you might find it initially, because it takes a while to get acclimatised. But once you are, you’ll want to dive down to its murkiest depths.

If Afrique Victime tells us anything, it’s that Mdou Moctar’s fire and passion are drawn from his homeland. The results are staggering.

Big | Brave’s music doesn’t feel in the slightest contrived. This is rock music, for want of a less reductive term, at its exhilarating and imaginative best. In Vital they have created something you can’t quite grasp or capture, yet the invitation to attempt it is all too persuasive.

Black To The Future is both musically and thematically bold and important. It is a major statement contextualising the present, aiming to better understand the past and, hopefully, providing a provocation for a better future.

Rarely straying into alien territory, the Dunedin quintet remains as restless and decorous as ever on Scatterbrain, proving that even the unsteadiest of minds can achieve greatness again and again.

Never content to hinge on traditional modalities, this surprisingly resilient and provocative collection reveals how Allen and friends triumphed against social barbarism and cosmopolitan functionality. As the title succinctly attests, there was seemingly no end to the late musician’s skill, and thankfully no end to the legacy he created for others to benefit from.

Even though it has some misfires, this album is still understatedly fun, driven by a pure zest for blues music that is impossible to shy away from.

Weller could easily be forgiven for just living off that immense back catalogue. Instead, he’s relishing that elder statesman role and striving forward. He may not be the angry young man of the past, but his fire is still burning bright.

Kennedy's eclecticism becomes its charm. [Jun 2021, p.86]

Daddy’s Home may lack the more exhilarating, guitar-shredding moments of some of Clark’s earlier work, but it’s possibly her best, most considered album to date. Six albums into her career, St Vincent is arguably becoming the defining artist of her generation.

Deploying ominous cinematic pacing and diaphanous harmonics, the transient Kaminari effectively incorporates an illustrative quality reminiscent of Cocteau Twins‘ Liz Frazer, before the Montreal musicians revert back into classic rockabilly mode and on the voyeuristic shuffle of Sarabande, they fixate on the more gonzo hallucinatory aspects of tropicalia and Turkish psych rock.

Exploring increasingly adventurous songwriting terrains and expanding their studio capabilities whilst managing to retain some of the fire that once sparked up their engines, Iceage have delivered another tour de force.

Despite these quibbles, there’s a definite sense on Life By Misadventure of a major step up from Human. It’s a conscious move to move Rag’n’Bone Man up to the level of the likes of Michael Kiwanuka and Ray LaMontagne – if he carries on at this trajectory, he’ll have a career to rival them both.

No longer clogged with the skyrocketing phosphorescent noise of yore, Growing’s agile and insular sound has permeated into a fugitive multidimensional fog, more muted than clamorous and constantly adrift on the faintest of prayers.

Coral Island is an ambitious record that never topples under the weight of that ambition. Unusually for a double album there’s barely any filler and the songs have a timeless quality that keeps you returning. At the end of their second decade, The Coral have released the best album of their career.

Vynehall’s potential has always been apparent, but Rare, Forever is a truly beguiling record – equal parts poignant and hedonistic – which allows his vast array of talents to shine.

Faithfull’s warm gravelly tone imparts a real fullness to each one. Sonorous and calmly delivered, it’s indeed a surprising joy to let the words wrap around you. A large part of that gratification comes from Ellis’s charismatic score. Unobtrusive to the point of almost being fictional, piano keys are soothingly caressed with the slightest of touch, violins tremble thriftlessly and the watercoloured melodies all but turn to vapour.

There’s also enough evidence that If I Can Make It Go Quiet could easily cross over to become a big mainstream pop album. This is a record that signals the arrival of a major new talent.

Beneath the corny flamboyance and exaggerated phrasing lies an album of killer tunes that may be mannered to within an inch of its life, but are crammed full of wit and bravado.

Endless Arcade might be an album of recalibration and evolution, but it’s also one that more than holds its own against the lofty peaks scaled earlier in their career.

Brash, poetic, and romantically obtuse, even from the grave Alan Vega is as challenging as he is charming.

The stronger of the two records by a clear mile, it breaks away from Sword’s definition of drone to incorporate clear distinctions in its abrasive mise-en-scène.

It pays to listen to the originals, to form a full appreciation of just how much Jones brings to the table in each interpretation, expressing more emotion than he probably has at any point in his career. The instrumentation is the icing on the cake.

There’s nothing revolutionary on Flat White Moon, especially if you’re a long-term fan. What it is, however, is another impressively solid record from Field Music, who have quietly, over the last few years, turned into one of the country’s most consistent acts.

Processed vocals are a huge presence on Nurture, and the record is infused with a songwriting sensibility that’s cutesy but massively endearing.

Ultimately, this album will draw the attention of McCartney fans and of the artists involved, and will remain a curio for the rest. Yet it’s good to see rock’s ultimate ‘Elder Statesman’ reaching out to a younger generation and trusting them with his material. Not all of McCartney III Imagined works, but when it does it sounds genuinely exciting.

Sweep It Into Space is as solid a selection of songs as they’ve ever produced and broadly typifies why they are so beloved.

Framed by the presence of two vehemently liberated and reflective originators, its modernist physicality and spatially paralleled forms will continue to position Lewis and Milton as noteworthy musical institutions, and its insidious observations of contemporary traditions will forever alter those who come in direct contact with it.

There’s certainly a lot to take in on Ben Howard’s fourth album – not all the ideas work in fairness, and there’s a few too many moments which feel like half-sketched ideas. Yet Dessner makes a decent foil for him and for those who have joined Howard on his career journey to date will be more than happy to continue travelling with him.

Djourou sees him continue this trend of musical mergings, although this time it is the inclusion of vocalists that provide the main points of difference.

While a few too many tracks fall into formula, now and again a track appears which stops you in your tracks, such as Lovato’s cover of Tears For Fears‘ Mad World (using the Gary Jules/Michael Andrews template, which sounds even more effective and eerie in this context). If anything, the album ends up becoming tripped up by its own ambition.

Paradigmes is an album that, whilst recalling a concession of progenitors, has no modern-day comparison.

Iglooghost has succeeded in an enviable task: he has managed to create a signature sound while innovating and progressively adding to that sound, and Lei Line Eon is a fine showcase for this unique artistic vision.

It’s a worthy successor to Beyond Skin, and could even bag the Mercury Award which its predecessor somehow missed out on.

While Homecoming could hardly be described as a massively commercial record, it’s certainly Du Blonde’s most accessible album to date, and the short running time means that it never outstays its welcome.

G_d’s Pee AT STATE’S END! might follow a certain well worn path but still sounds magnificent, especially at volume, pulling you in like a rip tide.

Displacing the emotional in favour of engagingly tenuous perspectives, this precariously magnetic album, much like the contents of Dourofs, will absolutely floor you.

On Head Of Roses Wasner still manages to deliver an album that feels both highly individual and effective in what it tries to do. It also subtly extends the sense of musical reinvention which has been ongoing since the direction-pivoting Shriek.

Taken as a whole, Deep England is a remarkable, memorable thing. Disquieting and disorientating for sure, yet offering plenty of strange, macabre pleasure.

If you take this for what it is, then you’ll have a great time, but the second you start to think about the longevity or replay value of this album, it all starts to come apart at the seams. This is a great album for the fans, but that’s essentially all it is.

Song Of Co-Aklan is unlikely to win any fresh converts to Cathal Coughlan, despite it being more commercial than a lot of his output. For those who have fallen under Coughlan’s spell though, there are plenty of new treasures to discover in a fine summation of one of music’s true maverick characters.

Overall though, this very welcome comeback from Loney Dear does feel a little too stripped back and one-paced at times, so while it’s certainly an interesting development in style, you are left wishing for a little bit more of the zip and zest of Svanängen’s earlier efforts.

To use an oft-heard cliché, Fir Wave is a life-affirming album – in the broadest possible sense. It celebrates natural phenomena that exist beyond our own life spans, to be present (we hope) long after we have departed.

It is a key work – a significant milestone – in the grand history of not only Sanders’ career, but the whole free jazz style he helped pioneer. ... This is a truly joyous album, and a purely pleasurable experience.

Anchoring the album with his own painful history and never admitting defeat, Balfe has scripted a exhilarating album that contends with unimaginable loss whilst warmly celebrating persistence.

serpent has crafted a spatially attentive album centred around representation and reverence, inclusivity and acceptance.

It’s hard not to see Playground In A Lake as the most ambitious Clark release to date, an adventurous collision of different musical worlds that also carries an important underlying environmental message. It offers a bold pointer towards the future, both in terms of Clark’s own ongoing musical journey and the broader fate of the planet.

Tune-Yards are always going to be an acquired taste for some people, and while this album mixes the accessible with the avant-garde, there will probably be people who are left cold by the restless energy and sometimes overtly meandering melodies. There are more than enough moments on Sketchy though to show that Garbus and Bremmer can strike musical gold when they want to.

After such a traumatic few years, it’s a minor miracle that Silberman is now back in The Antlers fold and sounding as good as ever. What’s more, for a band who made their name playing epically sad, often emotionally traumatic songs, Green To Gold sounds positively sunny and mellow in comparison.

Embracing the participatory rather than lurking in personal mistrust, and supplementing their formerly disconsolate narratives with unusually contented flourishes, these diverse new manifestations substantially demonstrate that Xiu Xiu still exist in a universe of their own design, but that maybe they’re ready to temporarily negotiate ours once more.

Songs From Isolation is a gorgeous collection that hits home in these bizarre times. Intense and distinctive, it’s the sound of someone finding solace in music – and that’s something we can all relate to right now.

It’s an album that’s easy to feel intimidated by at first listen, due to its sheer scale and ambition. However, after a few listens you’ll be in no doubt that Genesis Owusu is one of the most exciting names of the year.

Philips is very much the band’s driving force. Her musical persona is a collage of punk-rock heroines and sliver-screen starlets. She has the rebelliousness of Kathleen Hanna with the lusty charm of Poison Ivy.

It probably won’t be to everyone’s tastes – at times, it all becomes a bit too doomy and inaccessible, such as on Theme From Muddy Time – and newcomers to his music may be best pointed towards Your Wilderness Revisited instead. Nevertheless, this is another fine example of Doyle’s talent – and, considering he only turned 30 earlier this year, indicates a lot more to come in the years ahead.

Japan would go on to at least one better album than Quiet Life, but they would never again capture the same kind of nervous youthful energy they display here. An essential album from an essential band.

Expansive and unified in its character, Future Times is a considered album, actively concerned with the spontaneous expansion of boundaries, be they geographical or psychological.

These intense, dramatic songs are the perfect companion to these times – at long last, The Anchoress is stepping out of the shadow of her famous friends to show that she’s an almighty talent in her own right.

The upshot is a record freewheeling in scope which unfolds tastefully, never once losing sight of the forest for the trees.

Poster Girl, although far from perfect, is an encouraging sign from Larsson, indicating her adventurous spirit and perhaps paving the way for future triumphs.

In an interview once, she admitted, “I see things in my head. I dream in colour”. This posthumous addition to her near perfect catalogue confirms that statement, expertly revealing how attuned to the universe she was and how vibrantly her imagination shone in the dark.

With Carnage, Cave and Ellis have successfully balanced introspection and self reflection with the tumult and confusion of the wider world. It’s a hugely powerful statement.