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.