Unlearning is a daring and ambitious debut from a band who aren't afraid to take risks in order to achieve their vision, and for Walt Disco it’s a risk that’s paid off.

The madcap experience of Warmduscher is still probably best on the stage, but this album goes some way to proving that given a little time to let their ideas gestate, they can actually produce something that sounds good on the stereo, as well as the back room of a pub.

TILT is definitely missing the cool, camp interjections of Sugar Bones that were more prominent on their debut. Still, Conman has delivered yet another non-stop album that is guaranteed to raise the bar of your next party.

With The Jacket, Widowspeak prove once again they can find the irresistible spot between timeless and fresh. It might not be littered with huge, unforgettable moments, but the spell it casts lingers long after the music has finished.

Heavy Like a Headache feels like the natural next step and successor to Infancy and Happy Days! Expanding on both to enhance their playfully experimental and yet confident, brooding sound, it strengthens their status as one of Scotland’s most exciting bands.

Running With the Hurricane is the sound of a band who have hunkered down at home and found calm at their core. They might no longer be storming the patriarchy with this contemplative collection but Camp Cope has pitched their spot for a bright future, regardless.

The vocal melodies exuded on the album are irresistible. Paired with lush instrumentation, Sink Into Me is in a word, gorgeous, and the perfect soundtrack for a meander in the sunshine or a mellow morning in bed.

Ultimately, like the Henry Moore sculptures she mentions near the album’s end, Harding’s songs can be as mundanely lifelike from afar as they are strangely alien up close.

The album feels as much a personal exploration of Adigéry’s own heritage and life experiences as it does a commentary on social attitudes. But, most importantly, it establishes Adigéry and Pupul as a real force to be reckoned with.

Without doubt, Oxy Music honours Cameron’s skill as a storyteller, and his unique ability to embed some of the most outlandish lines into sanguine melodies.

This is untethered, uncluttered music, made with real heart by an artist at her peak.

CMAT is a pop tour de force who knows exactly who she wants to be and has all the talent to deliver it.

While Painless is not so far removed from its predecessor that it could alienate existing fans, the closing brace of the mystic and anotherlife present some of the more interesting ideas here, exploring the complexities and capabilities of Yanya's voice, as well as her more ethereal pop chops. If this is hinting at where she's heading next, it’s very exciting indeed.

SASAMI’s rich authority holds together an album that’s pulling apart at the seams.

A cathartic release following years of volatility and instability. It feels like the most important record of his career, as he works through his internal and external conflicts to, ultimately, find peace.

None of this group of songs are as good as those from her concise solo album, which only sprawled out with the ambient abstractness of its instrumental companion, something new and unheard for her. Here, listless listening is interrupted by the dangerous, mystical Simulation Swarm, saving the record’s back half. Big Thief are at their most beguiling when giving in to weird experiments.

Every second of the record is unconventional, rule-breaking, and mind-bending; the kind of album to ride a horse into sunset to. The Bitchos kick ass and you just know they enjoyed every lasso-twirling second of it.

For a band renowned for their experimentation it doesn’t feel like much new ground is covered on Time Skiffs and even after years of waiting, by the end of the album you’re left wanting more.

Bolstered with warm tones of sax and synth, bearing colourful thumbprints of the past, Pompeii is certainly a success of Le Bon’s continual daring.

It's a fascinating second album from a band that feel genuinely unpredictable.

The record does peter out a little with the closing few songs, and it can’t be said that Mitski has broken significantly new ground. Still, she’s as enchanting as ever.

These are songs for dark evenings in big cities, dancing through heartbreak. For when you feel small, but anything feels possible.

It adds up to a remarkable work of often queasy beauty that never releases its grip.

Ever the musical misfits, Blood Red Shoes’ righteous spirit remains even if their sound is a shape-shifting entity.

Unfortunately, Olly Alexander’s first solo outing as Years & Years doesn’t quite hit the mark, but even though they may be few and far between, there are still some glimmers of potential on Night Call.

It's a little front-loaded as the first three songs are by far the most immediate (except Witness and Pour Another) and memorable. But luckily, Tall Poppies anchors the closing songs with its six-plus minutes (nothing else exceeds four), painting a grim portrait of dreary, provincial life without being condescending (ahem, Model Village) or reductive (Glory Days).

A masterpiece in wistful, cathartic electronica, his seventh studio album Fragments.

kiCK iiiii is her most celestial, yet unadorned, collection of songs yet.

kick iiii was intended to be all instrumental piano, and while it certainly isn't that, it is a relatively calm affair (in stark contrast to its violent cover).

Skullqueen and Electra Rex mix serenity and apocalypse to excellent effect, with the latter indulging in the manic pitch-shifting you've come to expect from Arca. But the quieter cuts are also nice, like the Björk-ish Joya and hip-hop inflected Señorita (co-written with Max Tundra!).

KiCK ii is deconstructed reggaeton. A great idea (see DJ Python), but it makes for some of the least interesting music of the whole collection, as the first half leans on typical reggaeton beats (though nicely spectral on Rakata) for fairly straightforward songs.

The results are unlike anything the band has produced before.

An arresting blend of ecopoetics and meditations on grief.

[Shows] a more intimate side to Barnett than we’ve previously encountered. ... Things start to feel monotonous and samey by If I Don’t Hear From You Tonight and Splendour and there’s none of the brazen intensity or deadpan delivery that graces Tell Me How You Really Feel to behold here, which is a shame.

Sparseness can often lend a chilliness, but Rundle’s work here can be grippingly hot and suffocating – the feeling of air being sucked out of a room – as she recalls past traumas.

As an album, If Words Were Flowers won’t win Harding any new fans but it is a contemplative, thoughtful exploration of modern love through the prism of traditionalist soul.

Her voice is at times limited, with melodies in the second half of the record becoming indistinct. But when it works, Lotic is at the height of her powers.

It’s an album of growers, taking its time to reach unconventional climaxes. But there’s nothing fluffy about it; Jordan’s delivery is clean, precise and exudes confidence well beyond her years.

I Don’t Live Here Anymore, is their greatest and grandest statement yet. Adam Granduciel’s obsessive nature when it comes to making records has paid off as the Grammy winners' fifth studio album is another triumph in sound.

Shade contains some of Harris’s most and least accessible work.

From the surety of Aquamarine to the simple vulnerability of Graves, Duffy strikes an irresistible balance between sorrow and joy, once again displaying their knack for dressing stark trauma in infectious beats and major chords. Whether a coping mechanism or an inside joke, the result is truly exciting music that is also uniquely heartbreaking.

While some may miss the band's more direct approach of previous records, tracks like Homo Sapien show Parquet Courts can still rock out.

Taylor might not have been coming for the crown of pop star of the year, but with Prioritise Pleasure she’s certainly taken it.

With its screeches of synth and operatic vocals it’s a strong final blast, but points towards a record of more tonal variety. As it is, the other songs in its final third, which work perfectly well when listened to in and of themselves, can’t help but feel like re-treading ground covered better earlier in the record.

Taking cues from her early mixtapes, its songs function as sketches that reinforce each other to create a heavy and rewarding listen.

Painting a portrait of life in Montreal, one hand... is narrated as much by hurt as it is by hope, and demonstrates Levy’s ability to develop her artistry without letting go of the colouring of sound that renders her music hers.

A grab-bag of experiments, as the now-trio try on a variety of stylistic hats while they figure out what the future of WWPJ sounds like.

It’s in the curation of the record where Ayewa excels, presenting a platform for black and queer collaborators throughout.

Young’s jump into pastures new feels significant throughout, coupled with lyrical themes of escapism and adventurous spirit. As such, the record feels purposely detached from much of their discography up until this point. That said, the band’s long championed easy-breezy, summer indie-rock still exists in bursts.

Before I Die firmly establishes Hye Jin’s multifaceted sound and crafts a mood that feels very of the moment.

Their newest body of work retains a fiery core, it also reveals a more pensive and reflective side to the band.

To be making music that can truly surprise you 13 albums and 28 years into a career is a testament to Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker’s continued dedication to their craft.

While pulling from here and there, what binds Sometimes I Might Be Introvert together is a flair for the cinematic and the result is an album that's both monumental and an innermost peek into Little Simz’s soul.

The album spans TikTok pop to grunge and lots in between. De Souza commits to them all.

Despite the daring newness, Screen Violence still feels unmistakably CHVRCHES, and one of their strongest records at that.

Aisles is a simple concept, executed spectacularly.

It’s soft, woozy, melodically loose. Further investigation reveals that this approach seems to have spread to every aspect of Lorde's songwriting. Where Melodrama was razor-sharp in the universally relatable picture it painted of late adolescence, Solar Power drifts to a place altogether more impressionistic.

While Deafheaven's change in direction isn't an unwelcome one, there isn't quite the same rush as their previous best efforts, as they adapt to their new surroundings. Minor gripes aside, Infinite Granite proves Deafheaven's mettle and shows you don't always have to shout loud to hit hard.

A record imbued with full faith in the minor masterpieces that dominate Villagers' fifth studio album.

Keep Moving is the closest that Loving in Stereo gets to its own calling card, but too often the album gets mired in mid-tempo fare that allows the adrenaline to wane.

Liars' tenth album is a spotty affair with showy highs (Sekwar, The Start), pulpy mediocrity (From What the Never Was, My Pulse to Ponder) and enigmatic experiments (Acid Crop, Leisure War).

From the bombastic earworm title track to the pulsating requiem that is Paradise, to the twisted pop spectacle We Cannot Resist, Animal is utterly intoxicating – something that cannot be contained. Surrender to it.

Yellow brims with kindness and connection through its musical messages, reminding us refreshingly of what it is to be a human among humans.

Spiral is a more settled affair. Jaar and Harrington lean into rhythm and repetition more here, not willing to pull out the same number of jump scares just for the sake of it, a masterclass in the art of precision and withholding.

Wavves are no stranger to this smooth-to-rugged combination, and on Hideaway, the mix feels like a familiar cocktail recipe that mostly hits all the right notes.

Overall there's a great deal to love on this album, whether you're hiding from the world or belting out some catharsis at your next (socially-distanced) garden party.

Pink Noise is a John Hughes soundtrack just waiting for its film to be written and it’s a bold return from an artist with a point to prove.

It feels like a cathartic release, where she faces her fear of disasters head-on – through floods, tornadoes and burning cars – and she firmly places us within that world right alongside her.

Home Video is intimate, occasionally discomfiting, and, most of all, brave – the sound of an artist choosing to be at her most vulnerable, in front of a bigger following than she’s ever had before.

Boy from Michigan is an unhurried, loping listen; sprawling over 75 minutes with sumptuous synth and a ten-minute tirade on Trump’s America (The Only Baby). Sometimes the laconic style feels repetitive, but there are plenty of perfectly formed moments to bring the album back into focus.

Greentea Peng’s debut album Man Made captures a central paradox from the past year: the compulsion to turn inward, brought on by the psychological fallout from living through the pandemic, and the need to look outward at the inequalities that have been brought into sharp focus.

This record, like the band behind it, repeatedly and successfully refuses genrefication in its ambitiousness.

It’s a jubilant and sweet experience. The least conceptually bound Zauner has been, she moves confidently through a space befitting of the multi-hyphenate artist she has become.

With its main influences taken from the distant past, Medieval Femme has an inherently Gothic feel; its mystical sounds transporting the listener through the rich, vibrant history of Arabic music and culture.

Jumping between instrumentation and production styles, Flora Fauna feels a little disjointed at times, but overall this only serves to add to the feeling of rebirth.

If the range of CHAI's capabilities was ever in doubt, this album is the answer, offering unexpected turns and new ideas, incorporating them into their kaleidoscopic swirl of noise with aplomb.

This is the group’s masterwork to date, a thrillingly rich tapestry that combines passionate reflections on the meaning of black power, sharpened in particular by last summer’s Black Lives Matter protests, with sonic love letters to black culture past and present.

It's sombre tracks like The Laughing Man where Clark carves deep into the family tree.

When Bright Green Field follows in the footsteps of their best track The Cleaner – supercharging the banal and mundane with vigour and purpose – it rips, mixing genres like straight-ahead indie-rock with funk and jazz, and exploring ambient and textural backdrops which make their now-home Warp apt.

Teenage Fanclub sound refreshed, renewed and remarkably like themselves as Endless Arcade reveals an old group with some new tricks sounding in rude health.

Although Flat White Moon is a serene glance into the past it unfortunately lacks the innovation that makes what inspired it so great, and would be much improved if we could hear Field Music’s individual voice alongside their musical heroes.

On G_d's Pee AT STATE'S END! Godspeed has created a perfect soundtrack for these strange times.

The band’s impressive interplay and energy make these songs wonderfully replayable, to the point where the lyrics feel melodic and singalong worthy.

Fir Wave should represent a clash of styles – between Peel’s 21st-century toolkit and Derbyshire’s early-70s equivalent – but instead, there’s a deep sense that the two women, generations apart, are in tandem.

Erez’s songwriting is clever, nuanced and often packed with wit. On KIDS she shows how far she's come in crafting her sound in just a few short years.

Despite its name, there’s nothing ambiguous about Tune-Yards’ return. They’re back with bombast and the permission to take a breather if it all gets too much.

These duets are, of course, not standards. The production is exceptionally murky – mostly collaborators move through the dark, uncertain world Stewart manifests with his Scott Walker-like crooning of glossolalia.

Arab Strap’s first studio album together since 2005’s The Last Romance is marked by a feeling of not quite-ness; everything’s there but it just doesn’t quite click into its potential at many points. A good half of the record treads in similar ground to opener and comeback single The Turning of Our Bones; drum machines, faintly angular guitar arpeggios and Moffat’s largely spoken dissection of middle age.

Ideas disintegrate before developing, awkwardly blending into the next, leading to occasionally aimless moments. At its best, though, it’s a riveting and subtle addition to an already impressive discography.

A well-crafted album.

It's a continuation of their bombastic instrumental rock, adding enough new experiments to keep things interesting, but staying close enough to their well-hewn sound to ensure a cosy familiarity.

The band’s latest effort doesn’t fully shrug off the creeping sense of familiarity, but for the first time marks a real step forward. Glowing In the Dark’s most successful moments are those that stray the farthest from the band’s blueprint of sun-washed guitars and cascading vocal harmonies.

TYRON’s second half is undoubtedly more interesting, demonstrating a maturity to his lyrical ability. While it does feel like a forced attempt to put things right, on TYRON slowthai is allowed the time for self-reflection that cancel culture often denies.

Starting where Enclave left off, Guerilla succeeds in its aim of delivering an aural interpretation of both the physical and emotional trauma attached to conflict.

The Prettiest Curse is their finest work to date – full of assurance and poise, and still an absolute riot.