2020, for all its flaws, was a year filled with kickass new music. Despite being the hardest ever year for musicians and touring artists, especially in the independent, alternative world, our favourite bands and artists kept creating and gave us the gift of music to sustain and help us get through a time we will remember as one of the toughest in history. Having a lot of time on my hands, and having made the resolution to keep up with the scene, I lent an ear to everything. Artists I hadn't paid attention to before, names I didn't know well, recommendations, everything was fair game.

It is the reason why there is no ranked list of the releases of the year, because I cannot and do not really want to compare completely opposed genres and styles. How do I compare metalcore and folk-pop? Pop-punk and folktronica? The correct answer is I don't. I have a top six, but, most importantly, I have a jumble of albums that have helped along the way, brought a smile to my face, proved to be the perfect soundtrack for a sunny day, a rainy day, or a bottom-of-the-bin brain day. That's what we're celebrating today.

I want to start with live albums.

I usually pay very little attention to live recordings, for reasons that elude me. This year, two managed to catch my eye, and I have a sneaky little feeling that it is because they involve some of my very favourite artists. One of them is the Live At Asbury Park by Aaron West And The Roaring Twenties. For those who aren't in the know, AW20 is the side project of The Wonder Years' Dan Campbell, who is one of my favourite songwriters, musicians, and all-around people. The two studio albums attached to it, We Don't Have Each Other and Routine Maintenance, are a story based on the life of a fictional character, Aaron West. I got to see it performed live twice at the end of last year, and, shocker with me, it ended in tears. There will be songs you listen to, in life, and you think they are lovely acoustic songs, they have a nice vibe to them, and then, you register the lyrics? The saddest line you have ever heard during your time on Earth will hit you straight in the gut. That's the basic summary of Aaron West's discography. Two studio albums, a bunch of songs here and there, and a live record compiling raw sadness and pain. I was meant to see Aaron West And The Roaring Twenties as a full band experience before Slam Dunk, this year, which would have included brass instruments, and hopefully fewer tears, but, you know. 2020 was who she was as a year. In the meantime, I have Live At Asbury Park, a record player, and a whole lot of tears to sustain myself.
Though I will always live for the hope I find in Runnin' Toward The Light. What a song.

I will use the verb discovered for the second half of this very short list, as opposed to talking about a release. It popped up on Spotify, but I have no recollection of the band ever mentioning it, and I have no idea if it was meant to be something more than "something that, one day, popped up on Spotify." It's the triple j live at the Wireless, in Melbourne, by The Story So Far. I think it helped to fill the void of not seeing a band I had become so used to seeing all the time and everywhere, but, then again, does anything fill the void at all? Maybe it was just here to remind me of the great times I had, and hopefully will still have, appearing everywhere, one beached whale-like crowdsurf at a time. Lord, I miss seeing The Story So Far everywhere. Just like live albums tend to do, it allowed me to pay more attention to the instruments, the quality of the playing, and the details I cannot necessarily hear when I am caught in a moment, beaten up in a moshpit, taking in the atmosphere instead. Also, if you must know, it's a little corny, but the first minute of Solo absolutely destroyed me.

I miss the era of split EPs. I miss bands teaming up to release music together. I miss bands collaborating more together, come to think of it.
Split EPs, though deserving of their own post, gave me some songs I adore. The first one that comes to mind is Clairvoyant by The Story So Far, part of an EP with Stick To Your Guns. Imagine what a tour that would be! 

There was only one split EP that I found this year, which is nowhere near enough. It hailed from somewhere between Melbourne and Tasmania, a little bit of both. It was announced through minimal promotion, just pictures of coffee makers and tags on Instagram posts, and it gave us two of the loveliest songs of the year. It was the Slowly Slowly x Luca Brasi split EP, and a part of me will always be annoyed that I missed out on the vinyl and the coffee maker. (Damn shipping fees, timezones, and vinyl hoarders)
Slowly Slowly's half of it, Slow Learner, is a short acoustic number packed with feelings. The vocal delivery and lyrical vibe are very reminiscent of the band's first album/EP/musical situation/whatever anyone wants to call it, Chamomile. It was released the day after my birthday, and I listened to it for the first time in my brother's car, under the pouring rain.
It was perfect.
Finally lending my ears to Luca Brasi, this year, filled part of a gap in my heart. Despite the heavy lyrical content, their half of the split, Yossarian, feels comforting. There is something comforting about Luca Brasi in general, something that feels like the sunshine warming you up, and road trips with the windows down. I can't quite put my finger on it, but feelings like these make more sense to me than describing music in elaborate genres and technical words.
Music is now something that feels like weather types and activities.

A few awesome EPs graced the virtual shelves of streaming apps this year, and some struck my attention, big time.

I have always been picky about "reimagined" type of materials. If I am a sucker for acoustic music, I don't want my favourite bands to slap an ambient beat over a song with the vocals turned down and call it a day. It's lazy and unimaginative. If I am going to dig something reimagined, it has to give me a whole new take on the song. It has to pack on the feelings and give me a way to rediscover it, appreciate its intricacies and details, bleed the emotions from the lyrics dry. It has to live up to the implications of the term "reimagined."
Two of such EPs gave me all of those feelings this year.

The first was the second volume of The Wonder Years' Burst And Decay series. See, no one said anything about it being a series. I just want the hope of it all. The Wonder Years acoustic is the best thing since sliced bread, it might even be better, and it gives you the opportunity to rediscover the band's music. You get more places and more moments when you're going to burst out crying every single feeling that has ever crossed your heavy heart. While Washington Square Park gave me all the hope and shoulder-to-cry-on type of vibe I needed when it first came out, Passing Through A Screen Door was a swifter kick to the stomach, an existential crisis of a song amped up to the max. Weirdly enough, this is a compliment. Passing Through A Screen Door, despite being unbelievably sad, remains my favourite TWY song, a solid companion when my brain makes me feel like I have quite literally fucked up my whole life.

The second one was Between The Kitchen And The Living Room, by Alex Lahey. First of all, the title is a reference to 2019's I Want To Live With You, and, if you know me, you know I am the biggest nerd for songs and albums that reference each other. Second of all, I loved that it was all recorded in Alex's apartment during quarantine, every song in a different room. Everyday's The Weekend was dubbed the Laundry Version and came attached to one of the sweetest music videos of the year, full of kitties, puppies, and hope for the future. The weirdly eye-opening and relatable I Haven't Been Taking Care Of Myself was recorded from the hallway. It genuinely felt like a reinvention of the music, a moment when an artist took the cards they were dealt with and made something beautiful out of it. It was lovely, peaceful, and quiet, and, believe you me, my brain needed the break. 

As far as original EPs go, a couple have stood out to me, too. I noticed more than I usually do, this year, and while I appreciate all the effort and creativity artists have put in their newer material, not everything struck a chord. Such is life. 

If there were ever any favourites as such, the title would be won by Good At Feeling Bad by Best Ex. I have been through this dozens of times before. Everyone knows Mariel Loveland is one of my favourite artists, and most importantly, songwriters in the world. I simply adore the way she can paint a picture with her words, make every line a snapshot of a precise moment, and, at the same time, deliver it in a way that leaves space for your personal experience to grow. The shimmery, glittery pop sound mixed with emotional lyrics is a deadly combination, the best of both worlds. Immersing myself in Best Ex's music always feels like being given a best friend to hold your hand while you're overcoming all the obstacles, the times life brings you down, the boys that will break your heart, the ever going conflict between hope for a brighter future and the anxiety of right now. It always feels like being less alone. Good At Feeling Bad is the kind of music that makes you want to dance your heartbreak away with a sugary sweet drink in hand, go on stupid, yet unforgettable adventures with your friends, or maybe give yourself a makeover, à la 2000s coming-of-age film, but maybe not just for the wardrobe. Maybe I could do with a brighter exterior, but maybe I could shine a light on the inside and start believing that I will be okay. This is what Best Ex feels like.

Another EP I adored this year was World In Colour by Luke Rainsford. I have been following Luke's various musical endeavours for the past almost-five years, and if you think this means I liked Layover, you are right. Listening to World In Colour again yesterday afternoon, I found myself missing them making every possible line-up just that little bit better. World In Colour is all I could possibly want from Luke's music.
Tip Toe is one of the most joyous, hopeful songs I have heard during this hell hole of a year, and I spent many a walk in the fields listening to it and resisting the call of the truly awful dad-dancing. (At least, the people in the village would have had a valid reason to stare at me.) Lack is one hell of a deceiving track, perfectly associating some of the most heartbreaking lyrics I have ever heard to unbelievable catchiness. Frame and In Spite Of All My Worry weren't new, and they took me back to the one time I got to see Luke play this year, in Birmingham, in support of Cory Wells. It was a lovely night I miss dearly. Despite being on the sad, so, so fucking sad side of everything, they feel comforting, somewhere in the memory of that one night. I don't have a lot of very good words for this, which completely defeats the point of me writing any of this. Just know there is something so infinitely special about Luke Rainsford and their music, something I wish everyone in the world could see.
(For future reference, when we have live music again, I WILL make up for all the dad-dancing I missed out on, which I know sounds like a threat. It is. I would like to use this opportunity to formally apologise in advance.)

As a description of No Pressure's self-titled EP, I will use a comment I read on a Nate The Mate YouTube video: "Parker literally Beyonce'd us with that EP and I'm grateful." 
No Pressure is the newest project from The Story So Far's Parker Cannon, and one of the best parts about it is that it was dumped on a scene that was not expecting any of it, no explanation, nothing, just five songs, take them or leave them, and then, that was it, aside from a vinyl and cassette tape release. It felt like "Hi, have some music, bye now." No Pressure's music is fast and energetic, reminiscent of two of my great loves in life, early-2000s pop-punk, and early The Story So Far. It's very in your face, and that's what I like so much about it. It's here, yours for the taking, the enjoying, the loving, and that's quite literally it. Weirdly enough, as a huge TSSF fan, what I love the most about it is the early-2000s influence, because it takes all the best from that era, and mixes it with the best from our present time. It has a nostalgic vibe, it feels like it could have been huge at a time when film soundtracks were basically blink-182 and Sum 41 albums, but it doesn't feel stuck in the past. No Pressure perfectly mix nostalgic influences and a modern sound.
You know, when you listen to a band who cites old school blink-182 and American Pie style pop-punk as their influences, and all they do is try to emulate everything from that era to a point when it feels outdated when it was released three days ago? That's the trap No Pressure doesn't fall into. Despite having no information whatsoever on background and influences, it's obvious at least some inspiration came from somewhere early this century. At the same time, it was done by a group of musicians and artists who know what they're doing, who know how to combine styles without falling into soulless imitation and clichés. Quite simply put, it's really fucking good, and I hope that at some point in the future, it gets a live show. The money I would pay to hear those five songs in a tiny, health-and-safety hazard, hot mess of a room. 

The last of the EPs does everything I am unable to do in life: keep it short and sweet. This year, as previously mentioned, I have connected a lot with Homesafe's music, and, to my rare unbridled joy, the four-piece released a two-song EP in April, entitled What's Mine Is Yours. It felt like, almost unannounced, the band dumped some of their best material on us, and left us (me) to deal with all of the feelings. Slide and Down are both heaven in musical form, all about love and being here for someone, about wanting to do something and save yourself. They are quiet, simple, but delicate melodies, the harmonies are pure perfection, and the result has that sneaky little power of making the world around you just that little bit quieter. Down ended up the unlikely soundtrack for a tour music video, and there aren't many things I love more than tour footage turned into music videos, unless they have dogs, which this one does. (Down also ended up near the top of the list of my favourite songs released this year, and by Homesafe in general.) I said it before, but when this is all over, when we have live music again, I want my experience to include at least one Homesafe show, and these songs definitely influenced the idea (and better make the setlist).

I know there were many more EPs released this year, some of which really good, too, more critically acclaimed, I don't doubt, less unknown, too. But these are the ones I played the most, the ones that came up first when I thought about EPs. If I may, as a last present of sorts, because too much music is better than none, I would also recommend State Champs' Unplugged EP, because Crying Out Loud made me, well, cry out loud, and Mat Kerekes' Songs For Breanne and Amber Park, because his solo music is one of the loveliest and most comforting there is.