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]