If straying always leads to things as great as this, Iceage should continue veering from the path.

The atmosphere isn't always strictly severe, knowing right when to let up with gorgeous melodies seeping through the chiselled cracks. These moments save the record from being vociferous without a cause, allowing the more vehement moments to speak louder than they would otherwise.

Spiraling from stripped back laments into squalling chaos with an innate dexterity, Johnny Foreigner subvert their surroundings into a place of their own making.

For Nils Frahm, this record is nothing new: on his terms it is not extraordinary. But for mere mortals, All Melody is a bracing cacophony of the possibilities of minute sonic experimentation.

Beyond what has come before, ‘PAINLESS’ feels like a true representation of its creator; simultaneously delicate, fierce, vulnerable and fiery.

One of the most endlessly intriguing albums of the year so far.

It’s the underlying sense of unease and something to prove that really adds the edge here.

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.

‘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.

It may not be one for the impatient listener--Centralia can drone a little in places, and almost touches on music reminiscent of that you'd relax to while having a deep tissue massage. But take the time to listen properly and you'll realise it's beautifully crafted.

That ‘Laurel Hell’ exists only because it almost didn’t gives it its power. It provides the space for her mastery of songwriting, and Patrick Hyland’s understated yet orchestral production places Mitski in a realm all her own.

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.

yeule’s willingness to play with sonic landscape and sci-fi dystopia means their version of emo is more infectiously haunting than the blueprint.

Hopelessness is an exercise in provocation. It’s anti-apathy, determined to stir thought, even if that’s total disgust and dejection.

Packed with brilliance, ambition and warmth, SVIIB may be the full stop on the band’s work together, but it’s an album that will stand as the perfect goodbye.

A big and brilliant step out of the box.

Their more collaborative process has brought an album that, while rarely deviating from that Hot Chip sound, feels lighter and freer. Like a band finally feeling confident in their own skin, inviting us to find escape from whatever troubles us in their music.

A poignant, thought-provoking record on so many levels.

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

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

Because despite the weight that this album carries, the overall feel is of a celebration of life itself.

The power and ferocity with which they do so across the album--as well as its rollocking instrumentation and clear social conscience--makes it a triumph.

It is a work that demonstrates how sheer and utter horror can be turned into music, and while that may not appeal to the majority, the fact that someone is brave enough to do it is really quite brilliant.

The band put their flag in the ground as the most intriguing musical voice we have, creating a bombastic, immaculately put together portrait of modern life.

‘Friend of a Friend’ is an oasis of normality on this album, providing a piano ballad that could easily be a Neil Young deep cut, but for the most part this album is exactly what a side project should be – all the ideas too weird to fit anywhere else.

There are plenty of shout-a-long moments along the way though (the frantic whoa’s and blah-blah’s on ‘Lionheart’ arrive at exactly the right time), and all-in-all it’s an extremely commendable effort that solidifies PUP as one of this year’s bands to get sweaty to at a festival.

Subtle swells of synth and strings back up the album’s most emotionally intense moments, but her vocals can do the job on their own, especially on beautiful highlight ‘cradle’.

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

All in all, a confident second album that showcases why Shura should be on everyone’s radar.

With Loom, Fear of Men have created something more than mere fragments; a record which could engulf you if you give it chance; where sounds and textures merge together to create a beautifully bleak story.

It takes no prisoners musically or lyrically. And, despite the exasperation which the album channels, the tracks never feel too dark and this is largely, in part to the warmth which hides below the rage in Mac McCaughan’s delivery, along with the guitars which remain defiantly loud.

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

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.

For the most part though, this is a party for one, best enjoyed curled up with few distractions in the twilight hours. Sit, contemplate, and be absorbed into Aldous Harding’s spellbinding realm.

With a buoyant and self-aware use of slang that will have you opening up Urban Dictionary, paired with the one-track-per-week release schedule and the songs to back it up, Kim proves herself to be a true millennial pop princess in waiting.

It’s all gorgeously rich in both sound and delivery.

‘LLH’ finds its strengths in restraint and the spirit that flits between musicians in the live setting. Her most satisfying and complete work to date.

Four Year Strong sees the Massachusetts four-piece at their most refined, eleven tracks that not only succinctly sum up their fourteen year history but confidently remind the world at large that they’ve still got something to offer.

Written throughout their teenage years, they deliver an unfiltered journey of self-discovery.

Sure, FOTL's protagonist is as pissed off with 'The Industry' as ever, but throughout much of the 14-track beast that is How To Stop Your Brain In An Accident, there doesn't feel to be quite enough venom seeping through.

“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.

The album could stand to bear more of the inventiveness that was so rife on her debut, but Laufey’s crystalline voice and effortless charisma make this album into a gorgeous display of a unique talent.

With Primrose Green, Walker has created a mystical record, balancing idyllic sonics with moving sensibility.

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

Danger Mouse and Black Thought’s long-awaited album arrives as a tribute to a whole scene rather than just two artists.

It’s all effortlessly pulled together by Frances’ distinctive and enthralling vocals.

With more focus, this could have felt quite vital.

While he continues to be less elusive, his music continues to thrive from his stark directness.

‘Midnight Manor’ is dripping with exuberant charm; The Nude Party might throw back to the past, but there’s clearly some very present ambition here too.

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

Whatever the contributing factors to Bubblegum and 'Bulldozer', it's clear this is Devine brimming with confidence and energy--and to remarkable effect.

We can’t choose how we’re made but we can choose what we make, and what Against Me! have crafted here is nothing short of exceptional.

The Joy Formidable have made the statement they needed to with AAARTH--it’s an album of compositional daring and fierce experimentation.

Painting a tranquil image of friendship and family, at times bordering on escapist, Black Belt Eagle Scout finds both the tenderness in companionship and its fragility.

The few hints towards more modern fare - the undulating yet ultimately forgettable ‘Whirlpool’, closer ‘Everything’s Been Leading To This’ with its ‘80s keys and distinctly ‘00s indie air - could’ve been left on the cutting room floor, but overall ‘Reset’ is as warm a listen as Sonic Boom’s near-forgotten records must’ve been in lockdown Lisbon.

Part folk, part neo-classical, part metal; The Miraculous could easily be pigeonholed as a gothic record--and sure, there are definitely elements of that.

Yhis is a band tight enough and confident enough to know they can take anything, and anybody, on.

At its best, ‘CRAWLER’ is fresh, bold and inventive in a way we’ve never seen IDLES attempt to be before.

The Lounge Society clearly have more in their influence pool than just one slipstream, and it’s when they embrace the full flood that they shine.

The mixtape allows space for this experimentation, jumping from one emotion to the next, yet finds consistency in Biig Piig’s inability to stand still.

‘Drop Cherries’ may be a soothing depiction of a relationship’s simple moments, but this simplicity does leave the listener wanting more, and its poignancy often lacks any punch.

Everything here has been given room to expand, songs drifting from dreamy ascension to full-blown rock revelation and back again. An album of immense power and conviction.

Bob Vylan still have a lot to be furious about, but ‘Humble As The Sun’ is a winning exercise in shifting focus; after all, as the old saying goes, the best revenge is living well.

When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? is a supremely exciting, innovative first move from a pop voice that feels utterly fresh and modern.

There are times, however, when the mix doesn’t quite lend Björk’s message enough power. ... For the most part, Utopia sounds like an album where she’s followed her own advice. It demonstrates how the Icelandic alt-pop legend has pushed past her own emotional turmoil, taking yet another step in her ever-evolving saga, one that sets a path for future endeavours.

Joyce Manor are more than comfortable with their own sound now--they’re effortlessly confident with it, and Never Hungover Again is a stark reminder of just how much fun you can actually have without alcohol pumping through your veins.

‘Breaking…’ offers up a feast of exuberance, standout track ‘Riots and Jokes’ musically epitomising the album’s forward-charging freedoms, and neatly sums up Quasi’s modus operandi there in its very title.

Saves The World carries the same weight as its predecessor, but breaks the dark-pop boundaries the band themselves created with their debut. It’s an exhilarating ode to self-preservation and to being your own number one fan.

If Skepta’s ‘Konnichiwa’ was grime’s breakthrough, Gang Signs & Prayer is its blockbuster--an all-encompassing ride through human experience that’ll stand tall for decades.

While it can be an emotionally turbulent listen that continually returns to the fracturing of the self and the breaking apart from others, this is also an album that is deeply arresting and vital, a reminder that these ruptures are a part of the rocky terrain of life.

Panda Bear Meets The Grim Reaper is dense, slippery, wily, and flung together effortlessly like a meticulously rehearsed sleight of hand. Boy, is it worth the legwork.

A stirring and immediate listen, as Charli takes us with her on her lockdown emotional rollercoaster in real time.

It should go without saying but it needs to said: this is an intricate, jarring and complicated piece of work and is undeniably brilliant.

Stonechild is an exercise in top-level songwriting, stately and intelligent.

It’s an undeniably strong album, in which existing fans will find much to love. It just isn’t quite ‘Heartland’.

At an hour in length, though, and spewing at the seams with new sounds and concepts, Freetown Sound is more a vessel for Dev Hynes’ production prowess than Blood Orange’s flag in the sand.

These deranged components act as one, swinging into motion in one fatal blow. That it comes out sounding seamless is another thing altogether.

An album that continues the quartet’s knack for pairing potent socio-political commentary with delicious pop nous.

It’s a record in its creator’s image; curious, insightful, eclectic and - most of all--good fun, against the odds.

To write about topics this intimate is brave. For Camp Cope to do so with honesty and enchanting fury takes a lot of energy--and that is nothing short of valiant.

The Liverpudlian four-piece are gifted with penning peppy indie-pop, the melodies that lift the likes of ‘Be Your Drug’ and ‘Move To San Francisco’ are spiky and infectious but ultimately stick to a well-worn formula that produces middling results.

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

It finds him at his most confident, if not most innovative, and maybe his most comfortable.

The sound of an artist coming home to themselves, ‘The Theory Of Whatever’ is proof that you can grow up gracefully with every inch of your vibrancy still intact.

Energetic, furious and deeply lamentful, perhaps the main achievement here is how Italia 90 so forwardly address a near fifty-year old cultural heritage which so many depend on yet take for granted.

This stripped-back, honest approach exposes the inconsistencies and vulnerabilities of the man, while also bringing to the exterior the charisma and charm of a laissez-faire psych icon.

Though 'Europe' is an enchanting and elegant record, this is not a giant leap forward.

While it does see Faye and her band at their most musically warm and open - nearly every track is a devastating beauty - lyrically she feels more closed off than ever before.

It feels ecclesiastical, like hymns for the digital age.

An early contender for one of 2015’s most welcome returns.

It’s early to say, and its bold for sure, but there are a fair few legendary bands out there that were never quite as good as The Murder Capital are right now.

Nothing Great About Britain permeates everything about this fantastic first record from the soon-to-be-star that is Tyron Frampton.

The power gained from its creation can be felt in the way the band crash their way through its nine songs, and will undoubtedly also transmit to anyone who presses play.

This album brings innovation just when The Japanese House began to need it, and hopefully points to more creative exploration in the future.

The Waiting Room is reserved and considered, yet you still come out of the other end feeling like you’ve run the emotional gamut; in that respect, at least, you have to recognise it as Staples’ strongest set of songs for a good long while.

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.

Where ‘Designer’ had shade, ‘Warm Chris’ offers light. It still feels bizarre, like stepping inside a doll’s house or a hall of mirrors, but it’s less garish, and ushers back in some of the vulnerability of ‘Party’.

Sounding like their most ambitious and handsome release yet.