Bobby is a jack of all trades when it comes to surmising his subject matter while balancing the line of fact, fun, and fierce emotion. It makes for one of the year’s most essential records yet.

This is intelligent dance music (with no capital letters)--clever and warm, sophisticated and joy

To call ‘Topical Dancer’ pure fun feels to diminish the real sentiment behind the lyrics; to pigeonhole it as wholly political does down the infectiousness that runs through its core.

There’s nothing about the album that’s easy or comfortable to listen to, but it’s so meticulously constructed and so raw across each fragment of existence yeule lays out that its most perplexing moments become its most moving.

It’s verbose and it aims high and it’s not a record you can stick on in the background while you play Candy Crush. But unplug from this modern game of life just for a little while and it’s a very, very special reward indeed.

A restrained pace imbues the album with a feeling of deep sedation. It’s a blissful listen from start to finish.

A post-break-up sexual revolution decorated with metaphor and sonic experimentation, that’s both dizzyingly unique and creatively assertive, this is a comeback that demands accolade.

A luscious album that sees the singer shrug off the pressures of present day virality in favour of creating something much more classic.

At every moment ‘Home Video’ presents a vivid snapshot into an upbringing that fundamentally defines Lucy Dacus’ adulthood. In each tale she finds both loss and hope, a musical representation of the intricate jigsaw of life.

Not an easy listen - as one might expect - but definitely a rich, rewarding one.

As singular and engrossing as heavy albums get, its heavenly heights may well induce levitation.

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

‘This Is Why’ is a blistering melding pot of artistry.

‘URGH’ sees Mandy, Indiana once again defy any pigeonholing, demonstrating an unabashed growth that still stays true to its insurgent roots.

He may know damn well how to deliver a banger, but also when to tone it back a bit too. Though it may not all hit hard and there are some sonic kinks that could’ve been ironed out, when it does hit, it’s impossible not to be swept up.

Despite the foreboding darkness within their offerings, there are still glimpses of light that shimmer within.

The War on Drugs are reliable - not in the sense that they’re workhorses, but more in that Adam’s years-long close study of guitar rock has now evidently become an incontestable mastery.

Spoken word moments peppered throughout hark back to the ‘80s on an album that pushes musical boundaries well past the present day. In sound, it’s as bold as the personality that runs through it.

It all sounds a little inconceivable on paper, but is tied together and brought to life by a singer-songwriter who evades pigeonholing--on purpose or accidentally, it doesn’t really matter--and provides a debut that’s all her own.

Goldfrapp's singles collection is a triumph of compellingly brilliant classy pop.

Radiant, joyous record.

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.

Jenny Lewis has never sounded this confident in her own skin.

Chappell Roan’s debut is thoughtful, a little unhinged and entirely contradictory, merging the alt-pop seriousness of Lana Del Rey with the untethered preppy charm of Lorde to go full throttle into messy, emotional fun.

Unpacking messy feelings over delicate guitars, Crushing may have been born from a place of confusion, but Julia Jacklin’s voice sounds clearer than ever.

For the most part ‘Dance Fever’ is an expert revamp from one of alternative music’s torch-bearing misfits, a welcome shot of fairy-tale hedonism ripe for post-pandemic dancefloor indulgence.

Not so much Marika 3.0 as the Marika who was always there, but tougher, stronger and more triumphant than ever.

While ‘Yellow’ mixes it up nicely with freak-outs, group chants, P-funk and mellowing R&B, it is lyrically where the album wearies.

This is a second album that builds upon the foundations they’ve laid so far and opens up their world to all manner of possibilities. If ‘Dogrel’ promised that Fontaines DC were gonna be big, it’s with ‘A Hero’s Death’ that they prove they were worth the hype all along.

Their fifth album is anchored by thudding, motorik beats that create a dancier base on which James exorcises his deepest demons, and it’s an even more intense form of communication.

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.

Another truly original triumph.

Ultimately, ‘Nymph’ is a climax – a culmination of years of experimental foreplay – that puts Shygirl on the map as one of the UK’s freshest voices. It honours the altar at which Shygirl was born, but gently trickles into an adjacent brook, to where we might see her next.

This album only re-affirms his unique and inimitable talent.

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.

By intention or coincidence, the band's debut boils over with frustration. And all you crave is a piece of it.

Definitely an album of two halves, by the time you hit ‘Ferris Wheel’ and ‘Destroyer’ the record drifts off into Dylan-isms that while are nice enough, don’t carry the same idiosyncratic weight of ‘Singing Saw’ or ‘Drunk and On A Star’ that will some day carve out a classic from this hugely promising talent.

An affecting - albeit somewhat terrifying - portrait of how life could shift in the not-so-distant future, ‘No On Was…’ is perhaps the stark reminder we all need to hear.

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.

After eleven songs of depth, colour and excitement--songs that grow more vivid with every listen--it’s always a shame to reach the slow decompression of ‘The End, Again’, but as the title suggests, it won’t be the first time, nor the last.

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

It seals the chapter of Jordan’s late teens, early twenties, and it lands up being his finest work by a country mile.

It’s older, wiser and more reflective. A wonderful surprise album whose existence in 2023 actually makes perfect sense.

Here, the sonic experimentation finds his production and arrangements reaching the same imaginative heights. A thrilling and unpredictable addition to Villagers’ gleaming canon.

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

It’s as fun and messy as it is timelessly trendy; as silly as it is erotic.

Time away hasn’t dulled No Age’s musical sword--they’re sharper and brighter than ever.

The impatient will find ‘Once Twice Melody’ a tad wishy-washy, but for those who persevere there’s still a lot going on beneath the waves.

Whatever your view on their schtick, the songs will win you over in the end.

It’s a record swathed in simple but effective neo-soul melodies, echoing Chance, but also early 00s R&B with its gentle pianos and smattering of light hi-hats and percussion. Warner’s own languid style of delivery only adds to the lilting nature.

‘Life’ provides a pure pop moment of the most joyous kind. Enlisting the Swedish icon to soundtrack a moment of dancefloor euphoria is in itself a masterstroke, but the track’s looped hook possesses the kind of earwormy immediacy that brings to mind Y2K staples ‘Lady (Hear Me Tonight)’ from French duo Modjo and Spiller’s Sophie Ellis-Bextor featuring ‘Groovejet (If This Ain’t Love)’.

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.

Silent Earthling is far from an reinvention: it’s simply Three Trapped Tigers adapting and tinkering with everything that made ‘Route One Or Die’ such an exciting debut, to end up here with a leaner, more focused, brilliant second album.

She conveys a depth of emotional exploration in her lyrics that goes beyond even her previous work and sets Petal up as an affecting songwriter.

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.

Bikini Daze proves that MØ has pretty much mapped out every aspect of her identity; it's up to her which path she chooses to take.

Singles ‘Level’ and ‘Being Around’ are given a new lick of paint, while newies ‘I Wish It Was Sunday - an invigorating thrash defined by screeching guitar solos - and closer ‘Boring’--a live favourite that sounds even more intense on record--show that Our Girl can more than hold their own across a full-length. It’s what’ll come next that we’re most excited about though.

An album that manages to be both delicate and thunderous at once, ‘I Slept On The Floor’ is a potent and empowering statement of intent.

While The National don't progress or indeed offer anything new to outstanding cynics, they instead rejoice in their strengths of detailing life and all its sorry baggage in the most beautiful of ways.

It’s musical exorcism at its very best, rallying against socially-imposed doubt and anxiety and - in its unique horror - finding welcome moments of inner peace.

Tempest has delivered a compelling, thought-provoking insight into our troubled times.

What’s unique about Pinegrove is how they compress uncertainty, doubt and fear without being overbearing.

Throughout, ‘For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)’ feels like both a leap in musical maturity and a callback to vintage Japanese Breakfast.

Mike Hadreas takes a scalpel to the inner-workings of his creative brain, and the love that feeds it. An absolutely flooring record from once-in-a-generation talent.

There’s still that personable rawness to her production – the synthetic drums and often sparse arrangement mirroring her frequently despondent lyrical themes (“The death of everything real has happened…” begins ‘apathy is wild’). But her vocal offers warmth.

This album, for a short time, will make you question your sanity and the world around you.

On The Book of Traps and Lessons Kate Tempest continues to impress as one of the UK’s most vital voices.

Ultimately, Kali’s intention to create a timeless album about love is met with expected ease.

The most uncomfortable elements of life, colliding to create frantic, disorganised, but completely coherent mess, this record isn’t basic. It’s anything but.

The LP’s darker moments are its most affecting, but the playful brushes of humour throughout never diminish anything; in fact, they make ‘It Is What It Is’ a richer, more human experience.

Ranging from intimidating to wonderfully eye-opening, it's always forthright, and it barely falters.

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.

If there’s anything to criticise Hope Downs for, it’s its risk-averse approach, and tendency to become a one-dimensional listen, but as a debut record, it presents a band that know exactly what they’re doing, and proceed to do it very well indeed.

At the heart of Quiet Signs remains Jessica Pratt’s acquired taste of a voice and her penchant for dainty instrumental work, but the record’s palpable atmospherics might be enough to win over previous detractors.

While ‘What’s Your Pleasure’ doesn’t quite hit the heady heights of classic disco its soft-focus imagery might suggest, it’s both a more exciting - and natural - fit for the singer than we’ve heard in some time.

An album that dreams not just big but huge. It begins with a literal orchestral overture - 96 seconds of world-building that removes you from boring old reality and plants you into their version of Fantasia. Then, 11 tracks of similarly sky-high, grandiose ambition, that tie together lofty literary sentiment, cinematic sweeping theatricality and killer melodic indie hooks with an equal affinity for each.

That MCII can jump from sound to sound isn’t a surprise; but at times it does make for a slightly schizophrenic listen.

‘moisturizer’ is a wonderfully crafted piece of work that cements Wet Leg’s staying power, an album to soundtrack hugging loved ones and spending the day with them doing nothing at all.

Definitely an acquired taste for those who Grizzly Bear’s less immediate side already ticks multiple boxes, but for those it’s surely a win.

Knowing one’s self-worth. ‘The Art Of Loving’ is all of these lessons; from the need for independence (‘Man I Need’) to the art of letting go (‘Let Alone The One You Love’), Olivia manages to convey all wisely, without becoming preachy.

Always vivid and often affecting, the record deals with love and loss in a way that constantly resonates.

Rife with feelings of ephemeral isolation and deep personal anxieties, they have realised a new wave of modern storytelling, forging ‘The Line Is A Curve’ as an answer to an open call for honesty.

As a trip of just over an hour, Singularity is varied and consistently compelling.

Sans-visual accompaniment the album can feel meandering and unfocused. Fortunately, the experimental production and dark atmosphere are compelling in their own right, and ‘Anima’ is ultimately a trip down the rabbit hole worth taking.

It’s all executed with the same kind of effortless charm that’s characterised Malkmus’ entire career.

While it may flag a bit in its latter moments though, All Nerve still has moments where the magic of this particular, iconic incarnation of The Breeders feels recaptured.

Letting endless threads unravel, in vivid detail, this album might creep up on you at first, but make no mistake, its creativity and poetry will floor you.

The gambles pay off, and all add up to her most accomplished group of songs to date.

The one constant success of her sound is her ability to jump from one song to the next in a way that rarely seems jarring; it’ll serve her well to keep the multi-faceted nature of her sound from here on out.

An album, according to Dev, about “black depression, black existence and the ongoing anxieties of queer / people of colour”, Negro Swan is a record that radiates these tensions; subtle and amorphous, it’s not the most immediate listen, but it’s undoubtedly one with real weight.

‘Mortal Primetime’ doesn’t hold your hand or ease you into its sonic shifts. Instead, Sunflower Bean embrace this constant reinvention head-on with a record that only years of experience and an unshakable bond could produce.

‘Don’t Forget Me’ is the sound of an artist finally beginning to sink cosily into her own skin, and enjoying herself enormously in the process.

Tape Two sees them moving further away from a classic De La Soul template into something deeper and darker.

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.

The apology, regret and period of reconnection is brief and pained, and what follows soars. Less irregular than before, Justin’s redemption is soulful, almost spiritual in its delivery. .... It’s a huge leap forward from the introverted brooding of ‘For Emma…’, and a showcase of a man not just 20 years older, but wiser.

There’s just enough instrumentation to add depth and texture to Vince’s characteristically excellent delivery, but the rapper still stands front and centre, allowing a less bombastic tone to shine. ... If you arrive looking for the hooks of ‘Norf Norf’ or the explosive chemistry of ‘BagBak’ you could be leaving half empty-handed. But if you’re here for Vince Staples, you might just see more of him than ever.

Ultimately ‘MAYHEM’ blurs the line between the two [Lady Gaga and Stefani Germanotta], in its sheer pop-filled joy offering the fresh conclusion that they are by all accounts the very same; perfectly unsubtle and all-out fun.

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.