Sprinter is a bruising, brilliant record from a singular talent. It won’t soothe or placate. It’s all teeth.

This may not be what we were expecting, and it may not be the Paramore that we’ve come to know and love. But, at the same time, here are a band still discovering who they are, and this album may stand as an important step on that path.

Monomania is an easy album to become monomaniac about.

An elegiac, introverted release that feels more like a late-career meditation than the victory lap for "NFR!".

Consistently, Short Movie is wonderfully unlike anything she has ever attempted before.

This album is one of empowerment and regained vitality.

With jubilant tie-dye riffs and squiggly guitar lines around every corner, And Now For The Whatchamacallit is every bit the celebratory psych-rock album it strives to be.

Though not a flawless effort, musically speaking, this band’s baby teeth are not far off falling out.

It may not be entirely reinventing the rock wheel, but it’s certainly a more successful attempt at broadening their horizons.

With each track melting into each other, LUMP feels like a self-contained trip, giving no hints as to the future of the project outside this release, but holding plenty of wonder inside.

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.

Aside from the brutal norm its twenty, overwhelming tracks follow, Mutant is also capable of digging up gold.

They use a quiet/loud formula to epic create drone-filled symphonies, which rumble, crackle and erupt perfectly.

An overwhelmingly intimate record that makes you wonder just what Years & Years could be capable of next.

If her 2008 debut ‘Lungs’ was the deep breath of plunging into the depths, ‘Everybody Scream’ is the resounding, cathartic exhalation of finally reaching the surface once more.

Anxiety might still be rooted in Ought’s foundations, but by looking beyond it the four-piece have made their richest, greatest work yet.

The material on offer ranges from the piano balladry of ‘The Cruise Room’ to the ‘80s synth pop of ‘Best In Me’ - in other words, every flavour John Grant has to offer. And that’s an exciting prospect on paper, so it’s a shame that the record frequently suffers from songs too long by half.

While ‘Big Fish Theory’ saw the rapper centre stage, relentless and omnipresent, on ‘FM!’ he lets us tune in to a calmer world, one which he dips in and out of when he pleases, filling in the blanks and staying in the fast lane.

The curiously evocative and often soaring vocal of original ‘modern woman’, Sophie Harris, there may be a slight hint of knowingly tapping into the full breadth of their creative gamut across the record, but in delivery it suggests more a case of never wanting to tie themselves – or the album as a whole – down.

While the celestial sound-effects sometimes make Saturn’s Pattern sound like the soundtrack to Lost In Space or a retro computer game, generally what you can clearly hear is that Weller is creating music confidently again.

It’s an engaging listen and a jarring template that perfectly captures a disquietened and uneasy era.

‘Bronco’ flits between theatricality and poignancy, almost every song sounding like it could score a Western’s pivotal moment with ease. Helmed by the singer’s powerhouse vocals, it’s impossible not to be drawn in throughout the album’s 15 country-rock-song run.

‘Tough Baby’ gives us a distinctly moving experience of serious artistic intent. It’s like watching a wound open, flowers growing out of it.

Nostalgic and brimming with pop gems - but mostly, a lot of fun.

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.

Torres is a promising, impassioned debut.

There’s a diversity of stylistic approach and yet a singularity of vision that few artists are able to combine so early on.

Much like grief, ‘Evergreen’ has its highs and lows, but ultimately, it makes you feel less alone and like you’re going to be OK.

Vocals, sparse acoustic backings, gentle snare brushing, the occasional stab of a mellotron all create a very pristine listening experience.

The ideal meeting of brains and brawn over a journey that manages to feel both concise and exploratory.

Fusing an eclectic mix of genres together, Virginia Wing’s definitive experimental style continues to be electrifyingly alluring.

Why Make Sense? is a stripped back affair, an album of emotionally intelligent, lithe, pared back R&B.

While so many albums today are front-loaded, this one saves many of its treasures for the final stretch, ending on a high with ‘Highland Grace’, an appropriately elegiac closer euphoric horns and vocals.

While at times he toys with jazz (‘Velvet Dreams’ and ‘Oil Slick’) these moments are fleeting enough to be endured, safe in the knowledge that we’ll be taken back to the fluffy R&B dreamland before long. Sunday nights might never be the same again.

This is the sound of a songwriter in transition.

Sneaking under the half-hour mark, Time & Space is a comprehensive thrash that places Turnstile as the most inventive, forward-thinking band in hardcore.

Deceiver is his first truly clear-eyed artistic statement - it’s also his most mature.

Toeing the fading line between R&B and inner-city soul, ‘AFTER DINNER, WE TALK ABOUT DREAMS’ is flecked with hints of pop greatness.

It’s the kind of stylistic pick’n’mix Mykki has made their name on: ‘Ketamine’ with Slug Christ nods to the latest iteration of pop-punk; ‘Your Love Was A Gift’ shows a fragility to Dianna Gordon’s vocals amid ghostly production; ‘Trust A Little Bit’ shimmers with a tender nature. And best of all, it works as a whole.

With Sore Dilly Dally prove themselves as a hungry, relentless band ready to make a lasting mark.

One of his strongest bodies of work to date. It’s a richly textured piece of work which sees him expertly display his ability to make listeners find intimacy in vast soundscapes.

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.

Absolutely bonkers and utterly brilliant, if black midi’s indefinite hiatus was the high price for ‘The New Sound’, then it was a price worth paying.

The hard-fought glimmers of hope in the pain (“I guess I’ll stay,” he concludes, breaking into tears) prove the very point of the record, in its openness as brutally difficult as it is cathartic.

They have made bold strides on ‘VIVA HINDS’, enlisting A-list guest stars and following the lead of their last record by venturing into fresh territory: ‘Mala Vista’ pairs Spanish-language vocals with a groove-driven guitar, while there’s a touch of dream-pop to spacey closer ‘Bon Voyage’.

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.

‘Weird Faith’ sees Diaz defiant, ready to let her guard down again, with the title essentially referring to her faith in love; her work here evokes the gut-wrenching melodies and storytelling prowess of American supergroup boygenius.

‘Screen Violence’ marries visceral anger and empowerment. The result is their most euphoric rallying cry to date.

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.

A great advert for Australia’s most incendiary live band.

Don’t Let The Kids Win shines brightest for its clear, and charismatic narrative voice.

This is a record dedicated to every band who’ve had to scrape together every last penny just to stay alive, and the result is an album that yearns to be heard.

Full of surprising innovations, it errs constantly between confusion and brilliance.

Perhaps a less confident artist would be tempted to finish on a grand crescendo, but Angel Olsen has made a masterful record that both requires and earns a little patience.

This is a fully realised version of who and what they have always been.

A debut with such a title as this does imply an artist still trying things on for size, and there are certainly a handful of emotionally astute, smart indie pop gems to be found among it.

It’s a distinctly eclectic affair – the product of a Devonshire writing retreat on which Liu evidently experimented with new equipment and ideas – but there’s nevertheless a cohesion that prevents her often touching lyrical subtlety from becoming overwhelmed by uncanny instrumentation. And it’s the gentle push and pull between these two facets that colour the album as somehow both intimate and personal, yet fundamentally universal.

‘Concrete’ goes some distance in evoking The Weeknd’s late-night drive pop, but its obvious lyrics aren’t believable. ‘Split Lip’ nods to Harry Styles in its melancholy, but fails to pack a punch in its production.

Gloomy and often claustrophobic – much like the city that birthed it – ‘Evenfall’ is an intricate snapshot.

At times, the overly-clean production does the songs themselves a disservice, but otherwise everything about ‘Panic Shack’ feels in its right place. Book-ended by two tracks about friendship, this is a debut that presents its protagonists as a gang everyone’s going to want to join.

On ‘Soak’, Black Honey have finessed their trademark cinematic sound, alongside a renewed sense of clarity.

An album that immerses you into its world, a headphones record that is at once both their most accessible and their most challenging, revealing new layers after every listen. Unpredictable, in the very best way.

The music is genuinely rich, and creates a strong nostalgia for a musical era gone by.

Individually the likes of ‘Time Will Be The Only Saviour’, with its creeping strings and weighty sorrow, or the Rizzo-quoting ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’, are tender, sad things, but as a whole piece, Yawn can wind up a claustrophobic listen.

The 19-track remix record has elements of bubblegum-pop, screamo, rock, pop, hip hop and pretty much every genre you can think of, creating an album that is a masterpiece in its madness.

'Cavalcade' is the sound of a band looking to broaden their horizons, but building from a sound already so idiosyncratic and unpredictable, they end up in some head-scratching corners. It's still thrillingly entertaining nonetheless.

Avery has, somehow, made his most accessible and most idiosyncratic record to date, all at once.

Perfume Genius is worthy of the hype, and the hyperbole: this is a fantastic record.

Yet again, Deftones have created a real beast of a record while still showing glimpses of its heart.

Tightly paced electronic seams blur with floating chamber pop and global influences, warding off any sense of inertia on an album that has one foot in the worldly and another in the firmament.

Their magic remains as strong as ever.

Somersault raises the bar on 2013’s ‘Clash The Truth’.

It's entirely possible that by proving they can make anything their own, they've become one of Britain's best bands.

While better executed at certain points than others, the band’s varied selection of instrumental textures remains a defining feature; from the riff-driven frenzy of ‘Talking Radiance’ to the minimalist, piano-led touch of ‘Venus’, there’s an inharmonious harmony that pervades.

There’s still barely any light allowed in, but Protomartyr’s prowess at channeling darkness into something cathartic has never been stronger.

It’s the most eclectic punk record to emerge in ages, and even though it incorporates elements that might seem incongruous in a style that thrives off its simplicity, they’re carried off with enough class for it to sound intriguing rather than jarring. In fact, there’s a refreshing elegance about the whole thing.

In all, ‘Evangelic Girl is a Gun’ is a flex of pop ingenuity.

‘Empty Hands’ feels defiant in its ambition but never disingenuous or forced. An album unafraid to continue reaching towards the huge spaces not often reserved for this genre.

As an album, it's quite a varied piece of work, despite never really emerging from its shell.

While more of a slow burn than his previous efforts, ‘Gold-Diggers Sound’ sees Leon Bridges shine brighter as a songwriter, as an artist and as a man than ever.

Ihe duo’s latest project is a barrage of positivity with a collection of upbeat anthems perfect for a sun-soaked summer of love.

For all its playful charm, CYRK is deliciously dark: it revels in its ability to marry calmness with the uncomfortable.

The majority of the album is not different or progressive enough to be exciting--and it's not enjoyable enough to make up for it.

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

The lyrics across the course of the record feel less politicised, the characters less personal, resulting in a record that feels both wholly more developed, and ultimately more accessible than the EP it follows.

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.

With ‘Thirstier’, Torres has delivered her most varied set of songs yet; trying on so many different costumes suits her.

The quartet’s ability to instrumentally weave among each other has always been one of their great strengths, and here (with the addition of new bassist Holly Mullineaux) the band sound more unified than ever, able to spin strange sonic tales all the better as a result. A triumph.

Forest Swords’ debut long-player is electronic mastery at its very finest, because Engravings manages to make electronic music feel tactile, organic, and alive.

The same but different, more polished yet more heartfelt, forceful yet calm.

It’s still immersive music for thinking and reflecting. It might lack it’s ‘Red Eyes’ but this record is filled with enough to satisfy any existing fans.

The Dots is an outright success. It combines forward-thinking sound design with complex songwriting, and an astute taste for pop hooks with rich, intelligent lyrical content. It’s a joy to experience.

Although ‘Superstar’ certainly reaches for the stars in its slick production, her wit doesn’t sparkle as strongly, and its theme of an awkward outsider trying to chase success feels a little too close to home.

It’s a mixed bag.

There’s plenty here to push The National’s sound forwards and stave off stagnation.

‘Mercy’ provides another delicious example of an esteemed old-timer triumphantly pushing his creative frontiers into a much-shifted modern age.

Although the lyrical themes aren’t necessarily treading new ground--and at times sound feel more 1970s than 2010s--New View is the most self-assured realisation of the Friedberger’s delicately eloquent and intelligent musical talent.

As a whole, Villains is the Californian filthmongers’ most danceable offering yet--and all the better for it.