Let’s tone it down for a moment and shift away from the unrelenting noise that has dominated the first twenty records on this list. This a delicate, warm and rather tender record. It is also full of hope (the clue is in the title) and optimism. Each song is laced with euphoria, but it is a restrained and almost apologetic euphoria. It is like they feel guilty for feeling happy and expect that happiness to be snatched from them at any given point. It’s prog but without the bombastity and it is that reserved rapture that makes this such an intriguing record.

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In many ways the original “Colors” changed everything. It dragged prog metal away from the pomposity and technobabble of Dream Theatre and gave it weight and form. Between the Buried and Me are honest that on its release they were at a crossroad in terms of where their carrier would go and how they fitted into metal’s rich tapestry. They have badged their tenth studio album as a squeal to “Colors” as they feel they are at a similar junction in their professional lives.

What has changed is that they are no longer the plucky young bucks looking to upset the apple cart and reimagine prog metal. They are now elder statesmen and establishment figures within the genre, and it is they that are now looking nervously over their shoulders at the youngsters gaining ground on them. Whilst “Colors II” does not reinvent everything the way that its predecessor did, it does put a massive flag in the ground indicating that Between the Buried and Me are still a massive and relevant player in this particular sandbox.

It is a highly complex and dense record, that at times can feel bewildering and unfathomable. But that has always been the beauty and uniqueness of Between the Buried and Me. You never really know where their music is going second by second and disconcerting left turns into completely different sonic territories are now second nature. “Colors II” has all that and more. This time around we maybe expecting the sheer amount of stylistic shifts, but that does not deter from how powerful and disarming that are. Not essentially new, but still utterly exhilarating.

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Ahh, Ghost Bath! The band that I love and that everyone else seems to hate. “Self Loather” is the final part of the “Moon Lover” trilogy and shares a lot of the same traits as the previous two records. The almost transcendental tremolo shaking guitar sounds, the delicate instrumental interludes and the blood-curdling screechers are all present and correct. It is the latter that tends to put people off Ghost bath, but for me it is their defining feature. I have said this a thousand times to a thousand deaf ears, but the screams are not there for a lyrical function, they are part of the dense instrumentation. They provide a contrast to the often-luscious segments and the euphoric crescendos of sound. They haven’t moved on as much as I would have liked (hence the relatively low placing compared to the other parts of trilogy) but it is still an utterly stunning record.

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Lurking Fear are essentially an At The Gates side project (they share three of the same members) but that is very much where the familiarity. Whereas At The Gates embrace the melodic (and increasingly progressive) side of Death Metal, Lurking Fear wallows in its darker murkier waters. Never actually has a record title been truer, as “Death, Madness, Horror, Decay” not only deals with these subject matters but it also manages to aurally personify them.

This is harsh and abrasive record, unforgiving and unrepentant. At times it is like wadding through primordial ooze; thick, disconcerting and really rather nasty. The enjoyment of this album is similar to what is gained from a particularly disturbing horror movie. It forces you out of your comfort zone and into the unfamiliar. Not easy listening in any shape or form, but still an engaging and entrancing experience.

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I am not sure whether it a minor miracle that a band this far off grid can be so popular or whether it is the start of a whole new business model for how bands finance themselves. Certainly, there is a question mark about whether While She Sleeps could have achieved the level of self-sustainability that they have, without an existing fervent fanbase.

However, let us not take anything away from what Sleeps have achieved. Every element of this album’s creation, every element of this album’s recording and every element of this album’s distribution has been bank-rolled by their fans. There is no record label involvement and no management team, everything is done by the band and paid for (via Pateron) by their supporters. They even used their road crew to physically distribute the record, which inadvertently meant that it could not chart (as they did not utilise an accredited distributor). While She Sleeps are cottage industry reinvented for the 21st century.

But no matter how worthy the approach is, it means zip if the product isn’t any good. Thankfully “Sleeps Society” is yet another triumph. It treads a fine line between aggression and euphoria. Its tracks are up-tempo and optimistic, but still manage to retain a jagged edge. They have masterfully managed to keep metal’s muscle whilst at the same time ditching the hostility and belligerence. Positivism never sound so powerful and persuasive.

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Self-described depressive Black Metal from Norfolk. This is a one-person endeavour (known to his gran as Nre) and they have forged a nihilistic and highly atmospheric record that wears its blackened charred heart on its sleeve. This is Black Metal slowed and toned down. Its malevolent evil now comes from its trance like waves of deeply melancholic sound that drift like a dense toxic folk out of the speakers. This is a bitter and unnerving record that gnaws at your soul. Dark, sombre and thoroughly miserable. I really rather liked it.

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Voices are what Akercocke did next. Now that the Black prog giants are back in town Voices decided to take a sideway shift into dark eighties electro and 2018’s terrific “Frightened” was devoid of any metal all together. “Breaking the Trauma Bond” sees them take a very bold blended approach. There certainly is metal here and Peter Benjamin’s curdling death screams are very much back, but there are also other elements at play here.

There is very dark gothic segments and a large chunk of what I can only describe as Avent garde. Long running experimental industrialists Nurse with Wounds comes to mine. “Breaking the Trauma Bond” seems intent on not repeating itself track on track and instead insists on making a number of 90 degree turns that succeed in keeping the listeners attention. A surprising record that seems hell bent on defying the conventions of its genre.

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I have never been a big one for either metalcore or post-hardcore. They both just seemed to exist so that there were bands for black clad teens to listen to before they discover the decent stuff. As usual I was wrong. This is a terrific record, emotional wrought and fuelled by vulnerability and (inevitably) loss. It is the sound of a band making music as a cathartic rite of package. They have not made this record for a shoe-horned audience, and they have not made this record to fit into a pre-designated demographic. They have made it to chronical a cycle of grief and to exorcise their personnel demons.

But don’t expect “Loss” to be bleak all the way through, it isn’t. It is actually a frequently uplifting redemption tale. It is full of rage and anguish but by letting it all flow out they are banishing their ghosts and regaining control of their lives. A highly emotive and exhausting album, one that isn’t afraid to show expose it weakness and instead turns that openness and honesty into a virtue. Harrowing but ultimately emancipating and liberating.

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Melodic death Metal’s unsung heroes, this is their first album in eight years, and it is an utter barnstormer. It is prime melodic death metal, showcasing that wonderful collision of clean soaring riffs and gruff primal vocals. They seem to have used their time wisely, as every track feels well crafted and defined. The guitar work is divine and whilst it does not move the genre forward it shows how wonderful it can sound when done well.

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Fourteen years ago, Robert Plant and country legend Alison Krauss confounded everyone by producing the most exquisite set of duets. It was a raw, personnel but also utterly divine record that saw these vocalists from different sides of tracks, combine to create something quite extraordinary. “Raising Sands” was a critical and commercial phenomenon and of course plans were quickly made to try and bottle lightening by getting them to recreate the magic. However as both artists are perfectionists, the sessions for a follow up were quickly abandoned as the spark was felt to have gone.

Fast forward to this year and without fanfare or ceremony a second collaborative effort between the two has slipped out under the radar. “Raise the Roof” is a fitting second helping, recapturing the smouldering chemistry between the two but also, most importantly moving the partnership on. If the first album was mostly about immersing their distinctive vocal tones in American country, then “Raise the Roof” sees them musically cross the Atlantic and dip their toes in English folk and the anglicised R N’B of early Fleetwood Mac and Yardbirds.

In many ways this is the closet I have heard Robert Plant ever get to Zeppelin in his solo work. High and Lonesome has Kashmir-esque strings and You Led me to The Wrong could be a long-forgotten outtake from “Led Zeppelin III”. What makes this record though is the same thing that made its predecessor, the warmth between its protagonists. They just so effortlessly bounce of each other’s, allowing their distinctive voices room to breath but us gloriously combining when appropriate. Proof that sometimes, you can go back home.

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Lords of the Lost are one of those bands that I have not paid much attention to. I know people who are fans and I know that what they do has probably been worth checking out, they just haven’t really blipped on my radar. Until now. Judas is Goth built for stadiums. It revels in its commerciality and ease of accessibility. Now I hear you cry that’s what Black Veil Brides do, and you slated them. Well, the fundamental difference is that Lords of Lost have the gift of slick songwriting. Be they fast or be they slow, every track here is an utter banger.

This is a Rock opera in the style of Tommy or War of the World. It is chock full of choral intermissions and symphonic interludes. It is extravagant and it is bathed in grandeur. What shines through is its level of ambition. Like Ghost before them Lords of the Lost have the eyes firmly set on the world beyond cult status and the dingy club circuit. “Judas” is the sound of a band transcending the self-defined confides of Goth and thinking big, bold and bombastic.

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Last year I got stick from some quarters for not embracing Springsteen’s lockdown album. Well, this year we do have a great Springsteen album to feast on, however it is not from the boss. Slick eighties obsessed stadium botherers the Killers have ditched their synth drenched pop anthems and instead created a stark and organic sketch of small-town America.

“Pressure Machine” takes its inspiration from “Nebraska” era Springsteen but has enough originality that it does not feel derivative. It is based on the people that Brandon Flowers grew up with and there is a beautiful level of role play here as he brings these stories and characters to life. The other wonderful thing about this album is its sound. It is warm and slight with the polished production of previous records abandoned in favour of a vintage analog feel. One of the records that I had no intention of falling in love with this year but that ended up capturing both my heart and imagination.

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Blackgaze, that most controversial of genre clashes. The unholy union of indie stalwart Shoegaze (think Cocteau Twins, “Dark lands” era Jesus and the Mary Chain and Lush before they went britpop) and Black Metal. Those who get it see it as a glorious evolution of a genre that was getting bogged down in its own mythology (you can tell which side I stand) and those that don’t, see it as hipster metal and the gentrification of a once proud and defiant genre.

This is blackgaze at it’s most dreamy, atmospheric and transcendental. There is metal but that is mostly courtesy of the goblin-esque vocals. The actual music itself is a sonic soundscape of soaring melody and melancholic instrumentation. As an album “As the Morning Dawns We Close Our Eyes” is actually quite hypnotic. It burrows into your head and takes root. It isn’t quite whistle to work music, but it does have an infectious quality that means that you are thinking about it long after it has gone. Evocative, emotive and immersive.

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Yet more autobiographical art pop from Iceland’s favourite adopted son. I was beginning to wonder whether he was beginning to run out of traumatic experiences to put to music, but he has managed to mine his early teen-hood to find yet more tales of alienation, small town bigotry and awkward coming of age. John Grant’s trick is that no matter how allergic you think you are to internally obsessed biographical numbers, he does them in such a self-deprecating and irreverent manner that you can not help but be engaged and entertained. He is modern indie pop’s premiere storyteller. He has a unique and exhilarating way of spinning a yarn that is utterly infectious. Peer-less.

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I keep saying that I don’t get Metalcore, but then something like this pops up. This is great, it is for all intents and purposes a great pop-rock album in that it is chocker full of well-structured and beautifully realised pop songs. This is an album to be sung along to, to be danced along to and (when on public transport) to be hummed along to. Annisokay are evidently fed-up being a bit concerned and have gone for broke here. However, where it succeeds where so many other thrusts towards commerciality have failed, is that it understands that good pop is far more than a catchy chorus. These are well crafted bangers with clear beginnings, middles and ends. If this doesn’t push Annisokay up the pecking order, then there is something wrong in the world.

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Timothy Showalter and his one-man project Strands of Oak are mainstays in these lists. Amongst the metal every two years he pops up, usually at around this point in the countdown, with another wonderful slice of fuzzy americana. He has developed over the years, taking in Bluegrass and American Folk, but at heart this is Alt-Rock.

As ever his subject matter is deeply personnel. Since his last record he has quit drinking, left his wife and moved to Austin, all of which are dealt with here with frank honesty, but also a good dollop of self-deprecating humour. There are moments you do worry for him (the title track feels like him giving up) but then he pulls it together and starts whittering about his dead cat and Jimi Hendrix hanging out. It is that ability to provide light at the darkest moments that has always made Strands of Oak so interesting and In Heaven is no exception. Dark, dry but also playful and most importantly really rather good indeed.

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Another gloriously epic record. The members of Ghost of Atlantis have been around the block (as members of Devilment and The Conflict Within) and the quality at show illustrates this. This is an ambitious album that is brim-full of ideas. It is not content with sitting in one genre or ploughing one distinct furrow. Instead, it pickpockets from as many different styles and genres as it can get its dirty mitts on. There is Symphonic, Power and Operatic influences but there is also plenty of the hallmarks that you would expect from Death and Black Metal. The experience of the band members means that they have the skill and aptitude to blend together these diverse and distinct influences and to, in the end, create something that feels both Grandiose but also grounded.

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Norwegian folk/prog collective with an ever-revolving line up. Hot on the heels of two children’s albums, they have taken a 90 degree turn into the macabre. This is a horror album which gleefully mashes the morbid storytelling of Nick Cave with the gruesome directness of Death Metal. As wonderful as some of the mangled word play is, it is not one to put on in front of the kids.

Musically, it retreats back into the warm organic organ driven folk-prog of the seventies. It is very similar in sound to vintage Jethro Tull and also has whiffs of pagan all-stars Black widow. It is also long, a staggering eighty minutes but because it is such a diverse and intriguing album, the time actually flies by. Undoubtedly released five decades too late it is still a playful, at times silly and but overall highly enjoyable record.

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A self-proclaimed neo-prog supergroup, Frost* consists of members of prog also rans Arena, IQ and Kino. Due to the needs of their various day jobs, Frost* has split and reformed numerous times, each time has been labelled as the last but each time something pulls the members back together. “Day and Age” is their fourth record and is an intriguing mix of modern and classic prog.

Rather than stick to a tried and tested formula, they have listened to what bands like Vola and wheel are doing with prog and have assimilated those into their approach. It is also a lot more introverted and insular than you would expect and the sweeping majestic passages that are usually the hallmarks of classic prog are actually used sparingly. Instead, the album is reserved and intricate and the tracks are slow and refrained in showing their beauty. In all a complex but ultimately highly rewarding album.

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Wardruna have transcended being a side project and become a cultural phenomenon. Their success maybe be down to a societal desire to a cast away modern influences and return to more earthy and organic sound or it maybe something to do with the series Vikings, which has frequently used their music. It could be either or it could be both. What is true is that they have firmly moved beyond the Metal fraternity that they were once a part of (the founding members came from Black Metal goliaths Gorgoroth) and they have found a place in popular culture. “Kvitravn” sees them broaden their sound, but without losing that feeling of authenticity. This doesn’t flirt with ancient Nordic folk; this is firmly ancient Nordic folk and you can imagine it played in shadowy halls a millennia ago.

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