As 2020 is nearing an end, it is time to review the albums I have vibed with the most this year. I had made a point and a resolution to keep in touch with music in the scene, as I am sure I have said before. I now find myself with too many albums to make a definitive list, but many things to talk about.
This is not a top anything. There is an album of the year, but that's about it. There are a lot of albums I really, really liked. Some I have novels' worth of content to talk about, some about which my feelings fit in a few lines. There is a little bit of everything.

Throughout the garbage fire that was 2020, I found myself drawn to positive albums. As I discuss somewhere in there, I believe positivity, especially in music, is a double-edged sword, because it's ever so easy to fall deep into the toxic positivity, "I am so disconnected from life so I will be telling you how wonderful life is, even though I know nothing about struggles" vibe. I found the sun, hope, and comfort I needed in albums that dissected feelings, explored the ups and the downs, in honesty, and in company. Strangely enough, despite seeing so many of my favourite heavy bands releasing music, I have not listened to -core bands as religiously and regularly as I usually do. But it's winter, accidental heavy metal season in my world, so, don't worry, I shall be finding my way back to screaming and breakdowns soon. Maybe I'll rediscover hidden gems. I am not purposely ignoring anything or anyone.

I Won't Fade On You

(Elder Brother, released October 2nd)

I started delving into Elder Brother's music because it is the side-project of The Story So Far's Kevin Geyer, and, if you know me around here, you'll know how thoroughly obsessed I am with TSSF. What I found were intricate, delicate memories paired with some of the most breathtaking vocals I have ever heard. The band has released a third album, I Won't Fade On You, this year, and it has the kind of vibe that keeps all the bad parts at bay. Listening to Elder Brother feels like engulfing the room where I am with warmth. It's truly lovely.

The Theory Of Absolutely Nothing

(Alex The Astronaut, released August 21st)

Every time I listen to Alex The Astronaut's music, I find it hard to believe how young she is, and how The Theory Of Absolutely Nothing is her first debut full-length. It's simply stunning. I jumped headfirst into the universe of an artist I knew nothing about, and I loved every minute of it. Her record, as well as her music in general, is a lesson in storytelling, all from such a unique and poetic point of view. She isn't afraid of touching on any subject, and all her songs find the perfect balance between honesty and subtlety. I Think You're Great was the soft, wholesome reminder that we are all doing great we needed this year. Alex undoubtedly is a gem.

Fracture
(Bleed From Within, released May 29th)

If you don't know already, Bleed From Within have been one of my absolute favourite bands for years, the happy accident I still don't understand when I used to be scared of screaming in songs and could just about stomach The Blackout and Bring Me The Horizon. They stormed into my life, and, from the first show when I thought I would breathe my last breath in Bristol, of all places, they have blown my mind with everything they have ever done. Fracture is, for lack of a better phrase, disgustingly heavy. Because "disgustingly heavy" could mean anything in this day and age, think old school Parkway Drive, but with whatever's in the air in Scotland. (Irn Bru?) These guys are one of the most underrated bands in the UK.

POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR - 
(Bring Me The Horizon, released October 30th)

Three words: Kingslayer featuring Babymetal. One hundred percent a top ten, God-tier Bring Me The Horizon track. There are so many Linkin Park vibes dotted around this album (EP, musical situation, whatever you wish to call it), and I am here for every second of it. It's great, and a reminder that the Sheffield lot can do absolutely everything and will never be where we're expecting them. (I just wish the Amy Lee feature was a heavy song, but, hey ho, personal taste and all that, and their softer voices mesh well together anyway.)

Staring At The Sun
(Decay, released July 10th)

See, there used to be a time when I believed music from the UK was the be-all and end-all. I think this belief died somewhere, leaving me somewhat hopeless about the future. (It's definitely just me) Every time I think nothing from the old island can surprise me anymore, someone comes along and punches me in the face. This year, it was Decay. Staring At The Sun is one of those records that make it hard to believe the band behind it is so young and only just starting out. They will one hundred percent be a band to watch as soon as, you know, we physically can.

All Distortions Are Intentional
(Neck Deep, released July 24th)

I have no idea why I always end up needing a little bit of time to fully appreciate the effort Neck Deep puts into the creation of their album and the era around it, which often has the same feeling as "eras" you can see in mainstream pop. (This is a huge compliment, meaning that an album is never just an album for them, and it comes with a whole aesthetic package, which I appreciate a lot.) I do love the nineties influences, I respect the way they always experiment, and Fall and When You Know are some of my favourite ND songs.

In Sickness And In Flames
(The Front Bottoms, released August 21st)

you'll be fine

(Hot Mulligan, released March 6th)

Hot Mulligan is one of the most recent additions to my musical landscape, and I am glad they are here. They remind me of old school, early noughties emo, which is one of my favourite things in the world, and it's a sound I'm always going to be looking for. I love that they're bringing back long, incomprehensible song titles with no connection whatsoever to the lyrics, and I adore that they can put so much pain and heartache in a song called Green Squirrel In Pretty Bad Shape. you'll be fine is fantastic.

Brain Candy

(Hockey Dad, released July 31st)

I found Hockey Dad when they supported The Story So Far in Prague, last year, and in about half an hour, I was hooked, and then annoyed because they weren't playing the other dates or the festivals I was going to. I was even more annoyed because I was meant to see them this year, but, you know. Instead, I got the brilliant Brain Candy, and the best way I can describe it is that you can undoubtedly tell it has been made by an Australian band. It has whatever is in the air down under, and at the same time, it has a solid Brit-pop vibe, but sunnier. Because everyone needs my metaphors and feelings, it's the perfect soundtrack to driving around in the sun. Maybe I should get a driving licence.

Cannibal
(Bury Tomorrow, released July 3rd)

Young Culture
(Young Culture, released October 16th)

Pink Elephant

(Stand Atlantic, August 7th)

The Australians of Stand Atlantic have been one of the biggest storms in pop-punk these past few years, going from small pub crowds to sold-out venues and an almost-classic debut record in the space of three years. Pink Elephant was easily one of the most expected albums of the year, and it didn't disappoint. It retains the electric, contagious energy Stand Atlantic is known for, and pushes it towards something heavier at times. I could do with frontwoman Bonnie Fraser screaming on literally every song. I wouldn't mind. Songs like Eviligo start off all light and poppy, only to become much heavier in the last thirty seconds. Pink Elephant is fun, gritty, and takes you places you never expected Stand Atlantic to take you, and, really, it's all you could possibly want from a pop-punk record.

There were many more albums, and much more music, singles without albums, you name it. I loved so much stuff, and I don't even doubt I have forgotten a lot of things too. (I have already thought about two EPs I forgot about in the previous post, that's how much music I have listened to this year.) I like that I can't even remember everything that happened, because it means it was a rich year for music, despite the world (and the UK) telling us otherwise. I have gone about listening to records so differently from what I am used to, and it has made me, shocker, fall in love with music all over again. I didn't know that, but I needed it.
I don't want to hold out unrealistic hopes for 2021, because I want to protect myself from disappointment, but there is still music I am excited about in the next three hundred and sixty-five days.

• First of all, one of my all-time, absolute favourite bands, Architects, are releasing a new album in February, For Those That Wish To Exist. It includes features from Parkway Drive's Winston McCall, Biffy Clyro's Simon Neil, and Royal Blood's Mike Kerr, and that is enough to get me on the edge of my seat, as are the first two singles, Animals and Black Lungs. 

• On the 5th of March, Tigers Jaw are releasing the follow up to 2017's spin, I Won't Care How You Remember Me. The aforementioned spin is the album that put Tigers Jaw at the place where they are in my life, and June is one of my favourite songs on the planet, the kind I could listen to on loop and never get bored. The two newest singles, Cat's Cradle and Lemon Mouth, are everything I could hope from Tigers Jaw, and I have no doubt I will be spinning their new music through all of spring. And summer. Most definitely summer.

• One band I never talk about, at all, ever, called Slowly Slowly have pretty much announced the extended edition and B-sides of Race Car Blues. Boy am I excited to cry in the fields.

• I would hope that, following their banger of a most recent single, Coming Clean, and all the studio updates we got on Instagram, that Homesafe is cooking something special next year.
  

• I kinda believe there are different types of adults in the scene. You either grow an obsession for Frank Turner, Enter Shikari, Deftones, or Weezer. Even though I have been a Weezer fan since I was a kid, I am definitely one of those. The Blue Album, the Teal Album, and Pinkerton have been some of my most played albums this year, and I want nothing more than FINALLY hearing Van Weezer. 

Let's begin with a story you may or may not have heard. It all depends if a, you know me personally, b, you have been reading this blog for a long time, or c, all of the above.
I grew up in France and, due to the COVID crisis, I have had to move back home. I now live in a tiny village north of Paris without traffic lights or a decent-sized car park for me to learn how to skateboard, and I am exposed to mainstream French culture daily. 
I try, sometimes. Over breakfast, I will sit in front of the only music channel we've got (by music, I mean they're playing the same ten music videos on loop for most of the day, until you get to 7pm and then, you can move on and watch about five episodes of Pawn Stars on loop, before there's a low-budget action film, possibly starring Jean-Claude Van Damme) and I will attempt at finding something I like about the video in front of me.
The thing is, the vast majority of the time, the positive things I find are "I like her outfit" or "I like that guy's windbreaker," so it isn't going very well.

French mainstream culture is something utterly and intrinsically bizarre. A part of our collective psyche still believes in the French cultural exception, some outdated concept that leads us to have quotas of music that has to be in French on the radio and believe the sun shines out of our national backside. And at the same time, France seems to have completely given up on promoting music of any kind. You'll have the odd segment on the news, usually featuring someone who hasn't been on television in fifteen years, or someone related to an already famous artist, and that's pretty much it. We have one musical program, a classic called Taratata, but it's on at, like, eleven in the PM, in other words, not at a time when anyone is in front of the television, and the artists on it are usually famous already anyway.
The bulk of what's in the solitary, abandoned music channel is trendy rap about women and crimes, tacky rap about smoking weed and fancy cars with music videos filmed in football stadiums, remixes of ten-year-old songs, and white men with guitars and fedoras singing about how beautiful life is, how they love the village where they're from, and how we need to protect the Earth and the polar bears (but they're probably still eating foie gras at Christmas). Most of these songs have been written by the same dude. The only rock song we've got on there is the unexplainably present Summer Is A Curse by Australian pop-rock band The Faim. Why? No one knows.
This is, in all honesty, quite depressing. 

Finding out it isn't the same in every country is still bamboozling to me. (Is bamboozling a real word? It now is.) A part of me believed it was the same everywhere across the world, a planet of mainstream culture promoting the sons and daughters of your already famous people, and not much else. The rest of me knew it wasn't so, but it didn't stop me from being bewildered when I realised it.

Having "alternative" as my favoured genre of music and half of my favourite bands being Australian led me pretty early on to find out what triple j is. For those who don't know, it is THE radio station down under, and its most famous segment is called Like A Version, in which artists cover other artists' songs. About a year ago, a random man in Sydney told me it was a government radio, and it entirely blew my mind. 
Since the start of 2020, I have delved pretty deep into Australian music, and have often fallen into a deep dark hole of triple j videos on YouTube. (It's surprisingly easy. You'll listen to a song by an artist you like, and the suggestions will be a person you've never heard of covering Linkin Park or Avril Lavigne and, if you're like me and a sucker for a cover, you're there until the end of time, watching people perform In The End with a harp.) 
A lot of bands and artists I appreciate, which, again, fall under the "alternative" umbrella, have been performing live from the studios and been broadcast for the country to hear, at a time of day when people are likely to have the radio on, ie, not the middle of the night. 

A couple of days ago, something else about triple j and the multiple videos I have been watching hit me. 
There are quite a lot of women involved in the process, and a lot of these women are playing rock music, pop-punk music, alternative music, are playing the guitar, the bass, or the drums. See, our representation of women in French mainstream music is limited to a very small amount of categories: 

a- R'n'B singers with songs that don't always mean anything at all, but then again, maybe I'm too old to get it. (No matter what anyone ever leads you to believe, "tu hors de ma vue" is not a grammatically correct sentence in French.)
b- Girls next door with acoustic guitars who whisper into a microphone and are really pretty with minimal makeup on, and usually sing about love, but in metaphors that make no sense to the general public, but then again, maybe I'm not middle-class and cosmopolitan enough to understand.
c- Mylène Farmer. She's been majorly famous since the eighties, every single one of her songs is either about death or sex, again in metaphors I'm not sure I understand. To the best of my knowledge, she's the only French woman who consistently sells out stadiums and arenas all by herself, and she's got a bit of a rockstar mystique about her. Too bad she's also made it her mission to choose young protégées and have them sing sexually charged songs when they're sixteen.

Again, finding out it wasn't like that in every other country in the world blew my mind. You mean to tell me that some other places celebrate women in different genres? Invite women on the radio and they play instruments, and they are relatable, and don't have to fit into a certain category? You must be lying.
Except it's a real-life thing that's happening in Australia.

I understand it was a long-winded, roundabout way of getting to a list of music made by Australian women I have been enjoying a lot in 2020.

Before I get into the heart of things, I will go back to my first love when it comes to music made by Australian women: The Veronicas. Identical twins Jess and Lisa Origliasso, originating from Brisbane, have entered my life in circumstances I don't remember when I was seventeen. I remember downloading their debut album The Secret Life Of... and playing it every morning on my way to school on my old MP3 player, thinking this was the real deal. I had found IT! Girls in a pop-rock band! Girls playing the guitar! Girls in a rock band that wasn't fictional! Something to fill the pop-punk Avril Lavigne-shaped hole in my heart! 
(I wasn't a big fan of The Best Damn Thing at the time and I couldn't relate to pink-haired Avril anymore, I was seventeen and life was a struggle, leave me alone.)
It's been a disgusting amount of years since I was seventeen, but I still love every minute of The Secret Life Of..., and I still know it all off by heart. Even though I had no clue they were Australian at the time, they were my introduction to what I would like to call The Badass Women Of Australia. A part of me freaked out a little (a lot) when I saw them on a big screen in the train station in Brisbane. Live music is but a distant memory, but I would LOVE to see them live someday. According to hearsay, they had a wall of death going on at Good Things Festival in late 2019. How sick is that? 
(Side note: Good Things Festival had Parkway Drive and The Veronicas on the same lineup, and I have rarely heard of any festival which catered to every part of my personality like that.)