Tell Me How You Really Feel is a more mature record, and lyrically the most direct and honest Courtney has been to date.

On this debut, Jordan and pals aren’t afraid to contrast bravado with vulnerability, and it’s in the unexpected that their debut shines brightest.

Jack Cooper’s soft vocals are so understated that for long sections it feels like an instrumental record, but this only adds to the album’s blissful allure. It’s a delicate piece of work that somehow it manages to feel fully-formed at the same time. And it’s this contradiction that makes it such a compelling piece of work.

Fine Line is a compelling document of an artist coming to life.

‘Tell Me That It’s Over’ is a superlative ode to vulnerability, permitting these indie wallflowers to flourish in technicolour.

They didn’t rush into Operator, and the compelling finished article is proof that patience pays dividends in the album game. Other rock debuts this year may well prove more immediately accessible, but few are likely to be as thrillingly original.

Aqualung has been ingeniously invigorated.

While their first outing had as much subtlety as a whack around the face, this time they’ve born a more considered--but sinister--creature.

Their knack for storytelling--which frontman Andrew Savage has always sported no matter what project he’s been involved in--has matured, providing extra strength to the slow jams this time around.

The vocal interplay meshes with the restless instrumentation and some of the most layered and considered storytelling that anyone could ask for. For an agitated, hyper collection of weird songs about made up or distorted topics TFS come achingly close to the total package.

Free of statements and the man’s desire to make every record some kind of grand manifesto, Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes is a mini-triumph that’s only occasionally tarnished.

Given time and patience, it will eventually unravel into a truly gripping that, although disturbing, is worth every minute of your time.

A big and brilliant step out of the box.

The elements needed to make Katie Crutchfield one of the greatest songwriters in indie rock have always been present, just not slotted together perfectly. When they do so on large amounts of Out In The Storm, the record provides of the most satisfying pinnacles of the year.

Familiar territory and no mistake, but his pining craft, all jazzy guitar shapes and heart-stung pleas, feels remarkably well-realised. Highlights abound.

Stranger in the Alps is as accomplished a solo debut as you’ll hear all year--a quietly devastating listen worthy of Phoebe Bridgers’ obvious influences.

Four full-lengths in, this is the most comprehensive full-length Joyce Manor have ever released.

Uneasy and unpredictable, yet invigorating.

M3LL155X is sometimes more show than substance, but it’s ultimately a sign of twigs getting more confident by the second.

The whole record shows them as a band who wear their heart on their sleeve, a perfect mix of ‘90s guitar nostalgia and sweet-sounding slacker rhythms.

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.

It’s the sound of meeting someone for the first time, pulses racing, love rising up --that’s not best expressed in pure formula. Caribou has successfully managed to see past sense, instead opting with an instinct that tends to produce dazzling results.

‘Euphoric’ is grand, inspiring and convincing - and feels like summer love bottled up.

This isn’t necessarily an album that contains multitudes, but therein lies its pure escapist charm.

Fake Sugar paints Ditto as a more diverse, often even restrained artist than the larynx-shredding punk aggressor of the mid-00s. That said, the more familiar nocturnal stomps of ‘Go Baby Go’ and ‘Do You Want Me To?’ are still the record’s angular highlights but even so--Fake Sugar remains, at times, a surprisingly sweet listen.

The firebrand guitarist has teamed up with a veritable gang of pals to create an album that's pulls no less punches than her earlier work--if a little more thoughtful.

It might not hit with the sit-up-and-listen immediacy of previous albums, but make no mistake, Currents is just as accomplished.

Strange Peace is more--more intense, more melodic, more brutal, more confident.

It’s cleverly written and produced too, with motifs (both sonic and lyrical) seeping from one track to the other. In all, this makes ‘Raven’ completely alluring, and offers a soundtrack for melancholic late-night drives through buzzing cities.

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.

It's a strong album and shows once and for all that Paul Banks doesn't need Interpol, Interpol needs him.

Pissed Jeans are loud, they're angry; they're buoyant, they're funny; they're introspective and melancholic. They're totally original, and of their time.

The stories being told match in tone, driven forward through a tantalising mix of urgency and despondency – mirroring the detached hustle of England’s capital.

'Mutual Friends' is an album that just gets better and better with every listen.

Whiteout Conditions is a consistently engaging and occasionally irresistible collection of pop songs, carried off with the unmistakable assurance of old hands.

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’.

From start to finish, Julia has created a world entirely of her own - one which revels in representing her with unflinching honesty using a delicately-woven soundscape. Hers is a world where solace and solidarity are steeped into every brick.

Assured, confident, and infectious, Wait For Something To Happen sees a band developing both as musicians and songwriters while still retaining what made them great in the first place.

Like most things, it’s worth the wait.

“Like two ribbons, still woven although we are fraying,” they admit. By accepting this, Let’s Eat Grandma have found the sonic balance between friendship, unity, and individual identity.

With ‘West Of Eden’ HMLTD have fought off the suffocating grip of overhype to deliver a debut album that is a cut above the rest, even if it is a little overdue.

Whilst work on Radiohead’s ninth album may soon become priority, the assurance with which this album has been constructed shows that this is no trivial side project.

In a world of easy sound bites and shallow narratives New Material has withdrawn from the spectacle to pursue a whole new goal--to teach you something about yourself.

Thankfully, it’s always Doyle’s intention to break down boundaries, even if he’s ticking verse-into-chorus boxes. As a result, music is the real winner.

Its refined edges, percussion heavy sounds and understated opulence find the band's sonic landscape revitalised.

Not always an easy listen, but a consistently thrilling ride.

Power and self-confidence run through the record. ... It also manages to veer away from feeling gimmicky, Lizzo’s vibrant personality and humour shining through a set of tracks that switches through elements of funk, pop and R&B with ease.

It’s chaos, the most extreme kind of hybrid imaginable. With that freedom, they sound more excitable and progressive than ever, like they’re chasing a pot of gold that contains endless truths.

The sound of an artist creatively re-energised, this is a revelation in all senses of the word.

Two thirds of the way in, the earth-shattering basslines make their way into the track, managing to reign in that sense of initial chaos, holding everything together and potently reminding any doubters that the trio--Efrim Menuck, Thierry Amar and Sophie Trudeau--have lost none of their sense of the epic.

This is an astonishingly good album, and the fact that it's a debut makes its stylistic and thematic consistency, as well as suave swagger, all the more to be recommended.

What is particularly impressive about the EP is its diversity, without diversion.

Dry wit and effortless elegance run throughout, which makes cinematic, poetic wonderment out of eye rolls and humongous sighs.

Having watched countless American artists demonstrate through their music that Black Lives Do Indeed Matter, Kele Okereke has finally achieved his own Black-British take in ‘2042’, capturing all the fears and foibles of our current political system through a sonic palette that recalls some of the earliest of Bloc Party’s work.

The songs are rarely improved upon, with the fidelity to ruggedness giving the songs the feel of half-finished demos, but the songwriting itself is, of course, stellar.

A vulnerable, accomplished but, most importantly, empowering debut.

Hobo Rocket is a genuinely believable, and extremely successful celebration.

Across the record, all prop each other up to create something that’s more than the sum of their parts. In this case, three in a B.E.D fits just fine.

The only dud is GAYLE’s ‘butterflies’, which does nothing more than showcase the record’s corporate origins. Sampling a Y2K hit would have surely looked good on paper at some point; in reality it’s a confused mish-mash of sounds, the sample appearing as an add-on, the newcomer without the star power of her peers here to hint lyrically at anything of note. That aside, life in plastic does indeed sound fantastic.

Staying At Tamara’s doesn’t shelve real-life problems, but simply recognises the power in taking yourself away.

It’s all the more joyous for its lack of shame. This is a major label pop album and that’s OK.

It’s smart and knowing, flitting between perspectives with ease. Barely a year after his last, Josh Tillman makes this shit look easy.

Her most consistent album to date, and let-loose like never before, blimey it’s good to have her back.

[Shut Down the Streets is] a truly mature and well-rounded work, with a complete lack of pretension, and a lot of warmth and heart.

For anyone who’s long fallen for the Derry native’s charms, third time’s a winner - for anyone who finds comfort in revelling in stripped-back melancholy, it’s a dream.

An experimental collection of recordings that shows just how well they are progressing.

The Leeds five-piece combine psychedelia, krautrock and gonzo rock 'n roll to unashamedly epic effect on this surprisingly immediate debut album.

The Goon Sax are at their best when asking questions and trying to work out their existential angst, rather than giving definitive answers.

LP1 is a brave first step that she had to take. It’s not perfect, but anything this expressive and personally vital rarely is.

It’s a record that feels at once deeply personal and eloquently grand at once. All this aside, musically Sirens is up there with Jaar’s best work

‘All or Nothing’ is a grand refinement of their previous work, rather than a reinvention. Still retained is that amazing sense of propulsion and momentum the group have made their own; ‘Initiative’ and ‘Body Clock’ are impossibly fast, constantly threatening to overbalance themselves, yet always remaining resolute and gloriously intact.

From gut-wrenching lows to stratospheric heights, A Weird Exits is an adrenaline-fuelled ride of epic proportions.

The guitars are still awash in reverb, the percussion remains propulsive, and the deceptively complex vocal harmonisation is the axis around which everything else revolves. What’s new is a feeling of genuine exhilaration - on the freewheeling standout ‘Something to Do’, the infuriatingly catchy ‘I’m Far Away’, and on the gentle breeze of ‘At It Again’ especially. ‘Memory’, is music for the love of it, and unabashedly so.

It remains to be seen whether The Art Of Pretending To Swim will gain Villagers hoards of new followers, but fans of the Irish five-piece will put their fourth record right up there with their best.

In a landscape that often places image over genuine attitude, here is a consistently solid record with its fair share of gems.

Yeasayer’s album is a brilliant, breathless, great big bundle of weird. It’s also their most innovative record to date.

Palma Violets' deliciously raggedy rock is enveloping.

Stepping away from her bandmates, LoveLaws is an even more personal exploration of TT’s affective talents.

The singer-songwriter continues along that trajectory with her most cohesive, accomplished and undeniably catchy collection of songs to date.

There's a gulf between even At The Drive-In and how extreme Dillinger can be, but on One Of Us Is The Killer, they've finally written a record that bridges that gap while staying true to themselves.

Every time he approaches a sound that’s already been touched upon by countless other artists, he looks to cast conventional ideas in a 22nd Century chasm. He looks so far ahead, the rest can’t keep up.

St. Catherine is a quasi-nostalgic LP that’s sonically soothing, while exhibiting finely-woven musical textures. It’s clever, without being intimidating or pretentious.

While the styles vary - opener ‘I’ve Been Starting To Love All The Things I Hate’ is emo-pop in its delivery, while closer ‘Whistle’ is lackadaisical - that Aluna’s singular vision is never in doubt.

Hey, I’m Just Like You is a record underpinned by raw emotion, melancholy, and a quiet but clear sense of hope, making for one of the group’s most vital efforts yet.

There’s a lack of ostentation from start to finish. The sound is uncluttered but never lacking in clout.

Throughout, the record oozes an elegant stream of sophistication and songwriting nous, backed up by a rich, clearly well-thought out and measured Tucker Martine production.

Perfectly pop yet delicately dark, Spector really have redefined themselves.

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.

Omar Apollo inspires, and his competence as a vocalist is unmistakable on ‘Ivory’. Conflating his electro-pop tendencies with the occasional stride of a campfire guitar, he turns everything he touches to glistening radio gold.

Boards of Canada have created a fascinating vision, one that will reveal more and more gifts over time.

This collection allows his masterful lyrics and song-craft to shone through unfiltered.

This is an album then of irresistible forward momentum; brutal and gentle, alien and human.

While the record does, on occasion, feel weighed down by its own existentialism - the more explicit musings on existence that open (‘I Am’) and close (‘Human’) the record notably - the rich sonic palette and Jehnny’s steely delivery ultimately win out.

Throughout, they still manage to delve into the perfectly-formed vignettes and clear-cut imagery that litter their early efforts, but the striking instrumentation allows their lyrics--and more importantly, their stories--to hit that much harder, making Holy Ghost a truly brilliant full-length.

On ‘hugo’, Loyle Carner proves his willingness to take risks and it pays off. While it feels like we’re still waiting on a total knockout from him, his lyrical progress and appetite for new sonic territories on ‘hugo’ suggests he’s verging ever closer.

A very impressive debut. The best thing about it is you get the sense he has only just started.

As with all Dan Deacon albums, 'America' is a challenging listen and at times the sheer amount of things going on becomes a bit much, however it is also a supremely powerful album from a musician at the very top of his game.

On ‘Motordrome’ she returns fresh and reinvigorated. No longer simply living to survive, MØ is having fun being herself.