Thomas Blake

The undeniably beautiful songs of Murder, And The Birds relish the ugly and the odd… Jaycock is a master of carefully managed contradictions, and a true original.

Hold Fast reflects Stick In The Wheel’s acceptance of diverse musical forms and their radical desire to change things for the better. An urgent and quite brilliant album.

The Eight Gates offers a small glimpse of the bare bones, the craft and hard work that lies behind the artistry and heartbreak of Jason Molina.

Monmouth’s Twelve reflects both Fishclaw’s creative freedom and an ever expanding palette from one of the most exciting and original bands currently working within the loose framework of folk music.

Heart’s Ease provides a tantalising glimpse of what may still be to come from Shirley Collins, an album even better than its predecessor, an album as good as folk music gets.

While this won’t be the only album of reworked material recorded in 2020, the strength of Alasdair Roberts early work means it will certainly be one of the best.

These songs have found a match in Trembling Bells that is perhaps unexpected but nonetheless perfect. If there were any justice, London would cement Askew’s place as one of our most valuable songwriters.

An evocative mixture of psychedelic folk and hauntology – a fertile sound-world of tape loops, spine-tingling vocals and an almost visceral connection to the natural world.

Brigid Mae Power’s generosity of spirit permeates all of these songs, even the ones that describe hardship. This is her most accessible work to date, but also her most intricately layered: genuinely beautiful, quietly challenging and perfectly self-contained.

Never Work is by far Kom’s most impassioned and political lyrical statement to date. Augmented by Sharratt’s superb, understated singing and musicianship, it shows just how relevant protest music is, and how much fun it can be.

Recorded at home during the lockdown, Howling at the Sun feels like the much-needed companion to a season of uncertainty and isolation: it is by turns sad, cheering and reflective, and full of the melodic inventiveness, the freshness and, ultimately, the positivity we have come to expect from Randolph’s Leap.

Twenty-one years ago Hefner released one of the finest break-up and make-up albums of its era. To say that Hayman has done it again may be a bit reductive – in no sense at all is this a nostalgia trip, quite the opposite in fact – but nonetheless, this is one of the finest records of a consistently brilliant and varied solo career.