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.

Their fourth studio album simultaneously searches for hope as it candidly condemns their surroundings. ‘Self Worth’ looks to find just that, violently expelling all that is wrong to settle on inner peace. That anger is palpable, from the jarring opening of ‘Stay There’ to the minimalist bass and accompanying cries of ‘Apathy’.

On the whole Tiña have managed to create a debut record that quietly paves the way for modern psychedelic pop, and not a loud shirt in sight.

A beautiful and moving chart of a year in his life, Dan’s latest ‘Grand Plan’ has clearly paid off.

Like always, Little Mix shine best when they are deep in their millennial sass. Never shy about breaking a fourth wall in the name of female empowerment.

If ‘DISCO’ might not be the most progressive or groundbreaking album of the year, it’s certainly up there as one of the most charming.

Dizzee remains in touch with the youthful verve of earlier efforts with ‘E3 AF’, a freshness that, for the most part, is carried throughout.

On a record that outwardly calls for the end of us, there’s plenty to live for, even if it’s simply the subtle beauty of Nothing.

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

‘Are You Fucking Your Ex’ has none of the melodrama its title suggests, the question holding about as much weight as ‘did I leave the bathroom light on?’, and ‘I Got Hurt’ sledgehammers the line “I got hurt… and it didn’t feel good”. For a songwriter who’s so loved for finding poetry in the quotidian, for saying so much with so little, it’s just a bit basic. Maybe if he’d allowed him - and us - to wallow a bit, he’d have had more of a point.

‘Razzmatazz’ is fun, flamboyant, and entirely of its time. A record that truly lives up to its name.

Granted, three of the tracks from the rather aptly-named ‘This Place Sucks Ass’ may be taken from their 2019 ‘Morbid Stuff’ sessions, but their fiery spirit of fighting back is still very much relevant.

This album is a little less concept-narrative driven than previous releases, but not to any ill-effect. Instead, Clipping have reached both their most distilled output - this is a once-in-a-generation band reaching their peak.

‘songs’ feels like unearthing an old puzzle a piece at a time. ‘instrumentals’, while texturally the same, focuses on pure ambience – the unspecific title is far more deserving. If anything, this feels more like a companion piece, a window into that cabin rather than its own separate record. If you wish you had been there, this is the best way to feel like you were.

Often Gorillaz records fall victim to feeling a little disjointed but with many moods and gargantuan guests here, Damon somehow manages to make ‘Strange Timez’ feel like a cohesive whole. Gorillaz can often be a hard band to define, and their records haven’t always fared well in the context they’re released in - in 2020 though, it all makes perfect sense.

Though ‘Mama’s Boy’ won’t exactly be changing the alt-pop game, it certainly might convince you to text your ex after one too many glasses of wine.

‘Anime, Trauma and Divorce’ is as wry as documents of desperate times get. Life may have given Open Mike Eagle some fresh citrus fruit, but this resulting record is some sweet, sweet lemonade.

The diary-entry nature of Bea’s songwriting - over twelve tracks she dips into hair dye as empowerment (‘Dye It Red’), self-harm via blistering highlight ‘Charlie Brown’, and a not-particularly-well-hidden reference to her boyfriend in ‘Horen Sarrison’ - makes the fuzzy, bubblegum grunge of ‘Fake It Flowers’ a perfect brooding soundtrack.

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

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.

‘The Streets Where I Belong’ appears to aim for ‘80s FM radio nostalgia, while the title track hints at cod reggae, ‘Forever ‘92’ borrows a smidgen of shoegazey guitars and ‘The Bomb’ a touch of trip hop. But with a lack of immediacy, paper-thin production and no discernible hooks throughout, for anyone still humming ‘Chewing Gum’ or ‘Heartbeat’, it’s a disappointment.

An intriguing new chapter from Emmy The Great that carves out a world you can dive into.

‘Lament’ packs a truly heavy punch. There’s a crispness to the production that highlights every drum beat and crashing riff, providing the backdrop to Jeremy’s introspective lyrics.

‘As Long As You Are’ is a steady-as-she-goes sort of affair - a solid effort from the four-piece that would fare better with a little more exploration.

A record that feels both raw and refined, this will shake you to the core.

While not exactly the wildlife-soundtracking level of Nan-friendly safe his day job has reached, it’s largely default Jónsi, just with a few more effects.

It’s the quarantine passion project created after too many days of 4pm drinking. It’s the existential crisis on Week 12 of drifting, structure-less furlough. It’s the desperate clutch at nostalgia that finds you trawling through your old school friends on Facebook at 2am, sobbing for A Simpler Time.

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

‘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.

Although previous work has never shied away from her individual experience, here Laura elevates her lyricism to new heights.

Exploring all that we give up about ourselves to make others feel comfortable, Shamir’s new take on pop songwriting is one that finally suits. Leaving enough scuffs around the edges to mark it out as his own, this is more than just album seven - it’s the start of a whole new era.

There’s something in the way Sylvan Esso craft their music, weaving folksy melodies and acoustic instruments with synths and 808s, that feels like exactly what pop music should be: punchy and pure.

Surpassing the hour mark with some space yet to go, the record provides an expansive canvas for Sufjan to critique the flaws of humanity, at the same time finding room for the inward focus that made his previous offering so compelling.

‘Haunted Painting’ sees Sadie Dupuis finally letting go of the grief that has worried at the back of her head, processing her emotions head on in order to create work that she describes as being ‘truer’ than anything before. As a result, ‘Haunted Painting’ makes for surprisingly light relief.

This is her most defiantly disco record to date. Where ‘Overpowered’ or ‘Take Her Up To Monto’ might veer off on prog or avant garde jaunts, ‘Róisín Machine’ is lit exclusively by the glitterball.

‘Generations’’ best trick is in its variety: if Will is undoubtedly a curious, enthusiastic sort, then that curiosity stretches across propulsive, vitriolic riffs (‘Bethlehem’), idiosyncratic, stripped-back synths (‘Hide It Away’), Randy Newman-esque piano send-offs (‘Fine’) and more. What unites the record, however, is an urgent, anxious sense of unrest.

‘Ultra Mono’’s step towards a more neoliberalistic message of positivity does serve to take some of the wind out of IDLES’ sails. If ‘Ultra Mono’ is their attempt to critique their own pedestal, it might not read as radical as they would have liked.

A masterclass in grandiose ferocity, the album harks back to the urgency of their early days and collides with the expansive melodies that underpinned much of their more recent output. Although on the surface the most aligned to their turn-of-the-century sound, ‘Ohms’ is filled with the twisted flourishes and unexpected juxtapositions that have guided the band’s lengthy career.

While it does quickly blend into one long - and at 24 tracks, it is long - medley - he’s created a heady, vibey, dare we say it - groovy - mood.

It’s a lot of… well, not much; a studio folly of sorts, (unsurprisingly) impeccable in sound but meandering without direction for the most part.

‘Airhead’ is a piece of bubblegum goodness, ‘Haunted’ is a celestial sizzler, while ‘Jumper’ almost calls back to 00s pop-punk classics (with an AG spin, obv) and closer ‘Lifeline’ is a sprawling synth slowburner. Though sprinkled with bops, ‘Apple’ doesn’t pack the expected punch.

Think the organised chaos of ‘70s NYC post-punk, or even the near-drone of erstwhile Leeds rockers Eagulls. And even as snarking on social media has moved into decidedly passe territory, the chorus of ‘Connect To Consume’ does remain a stellar one.

Both lyrically and musically it looks backwards to move forwards, in tone adding to Evan’s beautiful and delicate melodies, and although he doesn’t quite find the light at the end of the tunnel, he certainly knows it’s been switched on.

It’s refined, mature and an affirmation of the levels she could reach, on a similar path to star labelmates Phoebe Bridgers, Mitski and Japanese Breakfast.

Notably, the record is without the pair’s usual darkness, but ‘Host’ feels organic and true, like the first day of spring after a winter full of rain.

Though starkly different in tone to his debut, ‘Orca’ remains inherently ‘Gus Dapperton’ with his signature growling vocals and effortless alt-pop grooves and indie licks showcasing an artist stepping up musically, while also finding strength in his vulnerability.

Their debut shows Haiku Hands doing what they do best - making huge dance bangers made for partying along to. However, the three-piece also have some surprises up their sleeves, adding in moments of calm amongst the party.

A supremely intricate record which unfolds further with every listen - much like the brooding build of ‘In Birdsong’ - the band’s fifth album is, at times, a shadowy beast, and it’s sure to leave a mark.

Musically, it’s the ‘Lips at their most fully-realised. It may not get your feet moving but it’ll tug at the heartstrings. Each track builds up slowly like a rising tide that eventually envelops you. Compelling stuff.

While at times ‘Violet…’ shows Lana’s fine lyrical prowess, quotes primed for Tumblr captions, most of the time it’s more sixth former trying their best to impress at their first slam poetry event.

Star-spangled and confident AF he may be second time around, the Declan of yore isn’t quite lost in a sea of sequins. ‘Zeros’ is a lot of fun.

It’s a record of personal growth in its most authentic form. It’s nice to finally hear the whole story.

At once bleak, grey and obsessed with morbidity, and lush, blooming and gorgeous, it’s great to have them back.

Utilising a considered selection of guest vocalists, it takes a keener focus on rap and afrobeats, making good on the breadcrumb trail of singles that have tided fans over in the five-year album interim.

There’s an effervescent sense of fun that fizzes throughout here on an LP heavily indebted to the work of Kathleen Hanna, both in its sound and its politics.

For the most part, ‘Death of the Party’ shows a band actively pushing themselves to grow. They might not be the same happy chappies as before, but not even The Magic Gang can stay young forever.

Expanding upon the electronic foundations laid so deftly with EP ‘Hallucinations’, there’s an assuredness to PVRIS’ latest move - especially during the affirming closer ‘Wish You Well’ - that shows off just how much she’s conquered.

Confined to merely six tracks, the ‘La vita nuova’ EP feels like it ends too soon - and that’s entirely symptomatic of how strong the songwriting is. In 2020, Christine is still truly in a league of her own.

But for all the moments that tend towards fun-but-silly ‘70s musical theatre, there are plenty that, in isolation, ring with the kind of sepia-soaked sweetness that most genuinely don’t make anymore. The Lemon Twigs might not always take themselves seriously, but you’d be remiss to dismiss them as a joke.

‘SUGAREGG’ is eminently aware of its own fragility under its candy-coated shell, and with it a candid recognition of the fleeting nature of happiness and the work required to hold onto it.

It’s an album that feels rich and invigorating, and proves they’re still one of our most treasured bands for a reason.

A long time coming, the record is fully worth the wait, Dominic flexing his musical muscles in a genre-blending debut that sees him dip his toes into rap, hip hop, pop, rock, emo, and more. A sure-to-be-beloved album amongst Gen Z-ers.

Poignant, refined and still packed with relatable energy, the duo feel even more confident second time around.

Striking the right balance between slick and energetic, if a fuzzy but fun album’s what you’re after right now, look no further.

With highly catchy choruses on ‘Heart of Mine’ and ‘Deliver It’, it’s obvious that the band can deliver the pop sheen they are known for. But while reaching for style, it is only by exception that they achieve their usual substance.

As Biffy-ish as ever, with its cranked-up guitars and stadium-sized hooks, it’s also a deliciously unusual listen, shifting gears from the dub-flecked ‘Instant History’ to the unhinged scorcher of ‘Cop Syrup’. And while ‘A Celebration of Endings’ does explore the current frustrations felt by the band, both political and personal (“We’re fighting an ugly war / And it’s no good to freak out,” sings Simon Neil on ‘Weird Leisure’) it also offers up a brand of gut-wrenching, defiant hope.

With more focus, this could have felt quite vital.

Well and truly living up to his aim of creating a timeless classic, ‘Twin Heavy’ sees Willie delivering a more concise and cohesive record than his previous, leaning into a more distinctive sound and crafting an album that shines throughout.

A modern-folk masterpiece which finds her moving from her previous pop bangers into stunningly simple yet sharp melodies, ‘folklore’ will be going down in Swiftie history as one of her most unexpected, and undoubtedly one of her best.