With little allegiance to one particular sound, expansive love for their heritage and bold statements in each track, ‘Chai’ is a bright declaration from a band forging their own sonic path forward all while acknowledging where they came from.

With ‘The Million Masks Of God’, they’ve written something that feels similar to one – a record that traverses every corner of their sound, from beefy rock songs to string-assisted grandeur and acoustic bliss, further cementing their place as an under appreciated band to treasure.

Ready to break noisily out of the underground, the quintet have made one of the year’s most accomplished metal albums.

Ulfilas’ Alphabet is a great reinvention after the band’s 2017 debut ‘Youth Is Only Ever Fun In Retrospect’. This is a clear gateway into a sphere of daring artistry that Sundara Karma previously only flirted with.

It’s uneven, with flashes of brilliance. Blood is a record that builds slow and steady, as it continually keeps you on your toes with its experimental and exploratory nature.

It’s a full-bodied album and a journey--a journey we hope it doesn’t take them another decade to make again. Hopefully Jack’s telegram reaches his bandmates a little quicker next time.

Though it barely scratches the surface, then, ‘Essiebons Special’ succeeds in its aim to celebrate Essilfie-Bondzie’s legacy.

‘IRL’ reflects a young woman fully becoming herself, not just confidently throwing her hands up but boldly letting her guard down too.

While De La Soul’s social commentary is incisive, at its core this is an album about David Jolicoeur and the space he’s left behind.

As explorations of pain go, ‘Color Theory’ is as beautiful as it is brave.

Elegant is the way the record confines Diane’s sadness to the past. It doesn’t wallow, it reassesses.

From the get-go, his highly-anticipated debut album delivers exactly what it promises with its stylish, nostalgic artwork: a distinct world filled with hazy strings, warped synths and vocals that range from a flawless ’70s-style falsetto to laid-back speech. It’s retro-inspired through a modern lens.

Throughout the record, she bravely calls out incredibly important issues such as toxic masculinity and rape culture, but her music never loses its playfulness. This is an enthralling and deeply relevant debut.

A remarkable album, one that only grows more awesome with each listen.

It demands that you listen to it in this moment, not that you give it an easy ride because this is the man who made ‘Heroes’; and its songs more than live up to the demand.

Of the most recent phases of Patti Smith's musical output (always surprising since 1996's Kurt Cobain tribute 'Gone Again'), Banga is by far the most successful.

Like virtually everything else on ‘10,000 gecs’, there’s nothing about the track [ ‘One Million Dollars’] that should work, and yet it not only commands your attention throughout, but demands replay after replay. ... ‘10,000 gecs’ is insanely fun and impressively ambitious.

The two finest soloists from Montreal label Constellation combine here for something far greater than the sum of its parts.

This isn't just her finest album, but one of early 2012's best.

There may be elements of these greats in her vocals, but as ‘Not Your Muse’ proves, Celeste is on her way to becoming a star in her own right.

If this is an awakening, consider our attention well and truly captive; clever, confident, and utterly comforting.

Opening up the definition of rap-rock, TheOGM and Eaddy prove that you can hold yourself to the same intricate lyrical standards of rap, while sounding closer to the rockstars they grew up falling in love with.

‘Volcano’ certainly isn’t overstuffed with ideas. Often, the uniformity in this approach – muddy vocal line that could be a chopped-up classic, and a minimal but effective bassline – mean that several of the songs meld together, struggling to stand out. .... But when they get it right, it’s hard to deny how hard it hits.

Maybe this album is a little rough around the edges, and doesn’t quite commit enough to experimentation, but overall it’s an assured debut that suggests a very bright future. If King Princess leans more heavily into gay ballroom culture with the next album, ditching the acoustic guitar for music that’s more urgent and funky, then we might just have another pop great on our hands.

There’s so much packed into these 15 lush, context-evading songs, though, that map references are pretty futile.

If there’s a criticism of Broken Politics, it perhaps that the record doesn’t broadcast this voice often enough.

Something about them is essentially alien--yet, very probably, that is the source of their strange, uncanny power.

It’s well executed, quite odd, highly original and full of promise--exactly what you want from a debut album.

'Under Construction' is stuck all over with shocks and surprises, more than enough to keep the rogue-scientist glitchmasters who mutated 'Get Ur Freak On' in mischief for months.

Porridge Radio are sharpening their craft, but they’re not pretending anything’s any easier, and that’s what makes them such a uniquely compelling band.

After this increasing headway, Ivy Tripp is slicker than its predecessors, but Crutchfield’s emotional rawness hasn’t been glossed over.

True Meanings tends to blend into a lilting mush over the course of 14 tracks that rarely stray from the beige end of the sonic palette.

Webster’s evolution from her self-titled record is a delight to witness. The songs are more direct and lyrically she’s become a remarkable observer of the little things that make us tick.

'Aerial' has more than its share of static, but the highs are more than worth the lows. [12 Nov 2005, p.45]

We should all count ourselves lucky that that role fell to a man willing to be this open and viscerally honest, and to translate it into music that salves the soul.

'Chosen Lords' is proof of Aphex Twin's uncommonly rude health, artistically-speaking. [15 Apr 2006, p.33]

After is personified by her ragged, powerful voice, under which she picks, thrashes and strums riffs that mostly sound just as full of character.

AJ Tracey’s debut is perhaps the best of the current crop; twisted, vibrant and ever-shifting, but linked with that confident voice.

The New York songwriter could be compared to the likes of Olivia Rodrigo or Phoebe Bridgers for her confessional, piercingly vulnerable indie–pop, but on ‘Honey’ her warmth and candour is singular.

A fine album that, while not likely to win any prizes for Gorillaz-style innovation, will resonate, both musically and lyrically, with fans young rather than old.

It’s this feverishness that’s key to this magnetic and rewarding album.

Arctic Monkeys’ fifth record is absolutely and unarguably the most incredible album of their career. It might also be the greatest record of the last decade.

It's fair to say that with so much going on 'Contra' is much less immediate than its predecessor, requiring a bit of patience to uncover its true shades, contours and charm. But it's certainly worth sticking with, because with their second album Vampire Weekend have escaped their collegiate niche without sacrificing their true essence.

A very strange album, which shreds the old White Stripes rulebook (no bass, just guitar and drums) and pushes into territories way beyond the blues and rock of their previous four records.

Justice? Talent to spare, but that doesn't stop '†' being just another frustrating dance music album.

End-time celebrating religious nutbars won’t be finding much eternal hope here, but for everyone else, a perfect soundtrack to the approaching void.

For all his fragility, Avi is as good a songwriter as anyone who's ever traded under Sub Pop's logo. And that's quite a claim.

We worry on your {Marnie's] behalf about carpal tunnel syndrome, in fact. Until then, permit us to bug out to the controlled chaos.

Last retains the intimacy of their previous recordings, but it's augmented with more orchestral flourishes.

Throughout, Settle will blind you with so much sheen you’ll want to tile your bathroom in it. Sadly, the London Grammar-featuring ‘Help Me Lose My Mind’ is a bit of an unnecessary cool-down.

Despite being Segall's longest, packing 17 tracks into just under an hour, it’s also his most focused.

A record so bold, brave and jaw-droppingly advanced it should sound out a secret “album of the year” message when played backwards.

The result is an intriguing, if disorientating, sprawl of sound.

Turn To Clear View showcases both the cross-pollination and multiculturalism of London, while distinguishing Armon-Jones as an artist whose tastes are as varied as they are exceptional.

The largely well-executed ‘SuperGood’ provides enough evidence to suggest he’s en route to bigger and better things.

Kojey Radical sells us the image of refined Renaissance man he has become, rather than merely resting on his potential.

This record is the perfect display of how to make grown rap music without soiling a legacy that has taken decades to build. If this evolution continues, Ghetts may finally produce the classic album that has escaped him thus far.

Throughout ‘Open Wide’, Inhaler display a powerful confidence that’s impossible to resist. Comforting, cathartic and heaps of fun.

It couples a moody sort of glamour with a concrete feeling of loneliness, and it makes for some of the most affecting comedown folk you’re likely to hear all year.

His debut lives and breathes the Deep South, from the Chuck Berry references (most effective on opener 'Violent Shiver') to the slower, more hushed tones of 'I Thought I Heard You Screaming', which sees Booker take his vocal cues straight from Bobbie Gentry's late-’60s peak.

Weirder, funnier and fiercer than ever, Girl Band return as heroes of the weirder corner of rock music, and they’ve outdone themselves this time.

Nas doing exactly what he does best.

Resembles the Arcade Fire if they were from the Renaissance era and rubbish. [23 Jul 2005, p.50]

Wild Beasts sometimes seemed overly enamoured with ideology, self-aware to a fault, while Thorpe’s solo album is simpler, more direct, more self-contained – and therein lies its power.

The 21-year-old might be trying to shake off any unwieldy labels from critics this time around, but he’s doing so in electric, entertaining and thought-provoking form. Climb aboard McKenna’s space shuttle, and let him transport you to a place where dancing and getting deep are equally encouraged.

They Want My Soul is a cult record in the making from the quintessential cult group. Normal service has been resumed.

Public Strain is an album that invites you in and lets you at least stay for tea.

The more experimental side of the record is where things get really challenging.

A Fever Dream is by far the most focused, making good on frontman Jonathan Higgs’ recent claim to NME that the songs “need each other”.

Although ‘ANTIDAWN’ isn’t by any means an easy listen or an EP made for casual ears, the level of intricate detail and world-building achieved proves that, more than a decade since his arrival, nobody does immersive electronica quite like Burial.

Cold Spring Fault Less Youth is not entirely faultless, then--but it comes close.

It was a savvy decision to recruit The Blessed Madonna: the result is a collection exciting, genre-splicing remixes that you could genuinely imagine hearing in the club. It may not have been the album celebration Lipa was planning, but ‘Club Future Nostalgia’ feels like a party all the same.

‘Shamir’ is the sound of a consistently evolving artist reclaiming their path and making the music they want to make. His seventh, self-titled album is the sound of an artist who’s finally found his musical home.

‘UK Grim’ is a more aggressive beast, with multi-instrumentalist Andrew Fearn bringing more colour to their sound, continuing to add new depths to his compositions.

Acoustic Recordings is a selective, rather than exhaustive, portrait of White as an artist, but for a guy who’s spent most of the 18 years this compilation spans dogmatically adhering to self-imposed restrictions, there’s a remarkable amount of diversity here--and not a clunker to be found.

These dark, old blues tracks have never sounded more haunting.

As with the best of Bright Eyes, there’s a bittersweet meeting of macabre words and folky tunefulness.

As with releases previous, there are wrinkles that will only emerge after the record is lived with and absorbed. But if you’re wondering whether ‘Fear Inoculum’ was worth the wait, then the answer is yes. If you’re wondering whether it’ll touch your heart, soul and spirt, the answer is also so.

A record that's every bit the sonic departure it had to be, it nevertheless recalls its forebear's themes, seeing matters of the heart from a more reflective stance.

Marrying the street level to the grandiose was always the Pet Shop Boys’ MO from the start, and over forty years into the career, ‘Nonetheless’ is the sublime sound of pop’s standard-bearers continuing to hone their craft.

These 10 tracks contain a dark power, an atavistic pull. Give in to their bad romance.

Excepting curious conceptual moments like massage fantasy ‘Lonely At The Top'--Platform can concentrate on being beautiful electronic pop: think The Knife 2.0, perhaps.

Whether or not you choose to take his advice with either your first or your 51st listen, IGOR is an accomplished and evergreen record that’s well worth putting your phone down, turning the TV off and devoting your full attention span to.

It's an audacious album of lyrical wit, a defiant record of pugnacious bass, samples from a certain robot-helmet-wearing French electro duo, tangential guitar, synth noise and dark mutterings, much of which concern Smith's experience of the medical profession following a spate of broken bones.

There are cheesy moments--Jesso pretends to cry on 'Crocodile Tears', and 'Can't Stop Thinking About You' mimics the theme from US sitcom Cheers--but the compelling fragility of his demos remains. Because of that, Goon is a triumph.

There are a few moments of elegant sensuality--like the tumbling, androgynous voices of 'He She'--but by and large it's like one of Jeff Koons' uber-kitsch sculptures: gleaming, opulent, but kinda hard to love.

A masterpiece that merges the experimentation and freedom of their side projects with Cave’s most tender songcraft.

It's Beirut/Bon Iver/PJ Harvey brilliant, taking Damon Albarn's 'Dr Dee' to sublime extremes.

As a statement of blingy opulence, it’s a big look. As gangsta move, it’s pretty potent too. At the same time, though, it proves that while Shabazz Palaces are definitely moving in hip-hop’s orbit, they’re spinning further out than most.

Dom Ganderton and Ryan Malcolm are a deft hand at bringing colour out of the mundane in their honest, and often nostalgic lyrics.

By drawing heavily on some of the masters in the game and executing those styles with beauty and ease – Nation Of Language have unearthed a vibrant space of their own.

You’ll be hard-pressed to find a more hook-laden and enjoyable catalogue of breakdowns and anxieties this year – this is arguably the definitive 2020 album.

Endlessly charming.

It envelopes you softly, despite being wholly inscrutable.

It’s heavenly, in its own troubled way.

Fearless in their desire to break out of any pigeonholes but smart enough to play to their strengths, Haiku Hands’ self-titled debut does good on all that live promise and takes on new challenges as the trio adapt to the world around them.

I Speak Because I Can remains a stunning performance to leave haircuts and ex-boyfriends alike trailing in its wake.

It's heady stuff, that fans of Serge Gainsbourg, Nick Cave, Scott Walker and anyone else that's ever sung miserable songs in a rumpled suit will be at home with. [10 Jun 2006, p.43]