Yes (though it looks like the data might actually spill over to 2021) - my point was more, her latest album is TOTALLY dominating the charts so it seems very likely that her previous albums (which were also extremely popular, and were very folk-acoustic) would have contributed to the 2020/2021 spike

Considering that Midnights (though less folk-acoustic than folklore or evermore) currently holds all top 10 spots, as well as 13-15, I'd be willing to bet she's a big part of that impact

Think I answered a prompt like this about bards fuelled by metal using Through the Fire and Flames a while ago - god damn it's good

The Supreme General of Earth looked at the tactical map once more, double checking his first glance, and promptly threw up in the bin again. He knew he needed to present a confident face to his soldiers, but the situation was beyond hopeless. Each of the nine bunkers had come up with their own ‘godshot’ program to try and win the unwinnable, and the fate of humanity now rested on them.

“Sir, we’ve gotten- Oh, I’m so sorry.” An aide rushed into the room, only looking up from their paperwork once they had seen the state I was in. Guiltily, I straightened up and turned back towards the display between us.

“Not at all. Reports from the front?”

“Yes sir – the godshot programs have all gone live.”

“And?” The silence hung in the air between us, growing deeper and harder with every empty moment.

“None… none are looking promising, sir. The disruption cannon developed by Thalia is having trouble with the tough carapaces of the bugs, Euterpe’s rockets are being taken down as fast as they can launch them, and the Master Chief proj-”

“Lieutenant, no. We do not need that kind of nonsense, now especially”. I don’t know why, but it seems like the entire modern world can think only in media stereotypes – and, not getting most of them, I don’t appreciate it.

“Sorry sir. Melpomeni’s “super soldiers” just aren’t gestating fast enough – they’re going to have to rely on their shields lasting right up to the top of the engineers’ estimates if they’re going to get a proper fighting force together.”

We both absorbed that knowledge for a moment, soaking in the end of humanity. I was gathering my courage to say something when an ear-splitting siren began blaring. We looked at each other aghast – that was the perimeter breach alarm. We should have been safe for another 72 hours, but clearly we’d got that wrong too. Soldiers ran past outside, orders barked up and down the corridor. I slammed my pistol into its holster and chased the lieutenant down the corridor – I’d be damned if I didn’t die trying to take one of the bugs down with me.

When we reached the front gates, a bizarre landscape unfolded before us. Thousands of soldiers, all with their weapons trained on a single gargantuan figure – who seemed totally unperturbed by the situation. A nine-foot monolith of heavy steel and ceramite plating, with a blade on the back of one forearm and a shotgun clasped in the other. They were coated in thick blood and other gore, but I just about recognised them as one of Calliope’s ‘Titans’ – their godshot program had developed mass producible heavy armour and augmented every single person they could get their hands on. The idea was to create a much larger army than could be achieved with bespoke super soldiers – but by all reports, Calliope’s project had failed. They had been one of the first to meet a swarm, two days ago, and contact had been lost soon after. I heard some whispers from around me – some calling it salvation, others a trap. The lieutenant just murmured breathlessly “slayer”.

The Titan’s head slowly panned across the army facing it, and came to rest on me. It started walking forwards, each step punctuated by an incredible dull crunch of steel on stone. The soldiers around me stiffened, but I motioned for them to lower their weapons and walked out to face this strange interloper.

We met, and I had to crane my neck slightly to look into the featureless eye sockets of the helmet. They stared at me for a long moment – then suddenly, they brought their bladed arm up. Behind me, I heard several nervous rifles fire, and as though in slow motion I saw the high calibre bullets skate harmlessly off the helmet. The only trace they left behind was the bright shine of exposed steel, quickly overrun by the oozing blood.

The Titan did not respond to the shots in any way. They stood there, motionless once more, allowing me to inspect the fleshy bits impaled on the blade – green, and pulsing slightly.

“This is the brain of one of the big ones,” her deep voice ground out – modulated and distorted by the speakers but recognisably 'her'. “The rest fled when I killed it. Study it, and learn what you can.”

I nodded, and summoned a nearby trooper, who pulled the brain of with a wet squelch and carried it off into the base. I turned to face the Titan again.

“Why are you here? What happened at Calliope?”

“I did my duty. Calliope stands. They are sealed off, to avoid any others learning of their continued survival.”

“Are there… others, like you?”

“I do not know. I believe they all fell, but perhaps they have their own duties to complete."

“But you survived. How?”

“I do not know. I have only this body, these weapons, Mick Gordon, and my duty.”

“And what is your duty, Titan?” I asked, trying to hide my confusion at what she meant. Their helmet lifted to face the ranks behind me, hanging on her every amplified word.

“Rip and tear” she boomed, and I winced at the volume she had used – but I was near deafened by the cry from behind me.

“UNTIL IT IS DONE!”

When the news about the bugs hit, I damn near killed myself laughing. We’ve survived interstellar flight, a bizarre bureaucratic nightmare of a Galactic Alliance (some alliance that turned out to be), even accidentally launching multiple colony ships to “binary star systems” which turned out to just be supernovas (honestly, if I had a nickel for every time we’d done that…. Well, I’d only have two nickels, but it’s weird it happened twice). Anyway – after all that, it’s the overused “ravenous swarm of space bugs” that’s in every good and bad sci-fi film and game for the last fifty years which ends up being what finishes us off.

Tries to finish us off, a little voice at the back of my head insists, and I growl in agreement. The bugs have taken eleven of our twelve planets from us – the Alpha Centauri colonies, the bases on Mars and Titan, even the industry on the Moon. But humans still draw breath on Earth, our home world. And I’ll be damned if I let them take it from us.

Behind us, the vault doors close with a resounding thud. We all groaned when we saw them for the first time – I mean, if you’re going to steal from post-apocalyptic fiction there’s better options than Fallout, c’mon – but it turns out that that really is the best way to build a bloody tough door to keep out the ravenous little shits. The many extra layers of protection begin engaging over it: blast shielding, defensive turrets, even some prototype force shields it turns out the military had been developing. Inside are all of our families, our loved ones, our enemies, that one friend you haven’t spoken to in ages but have to wave at if you pass them in traffic... all of humanity. We’re spread across nine of these mega-bunkers across Earth, each with its own set of shields and turrets and gang of crazy last-ditch defenders standing outside.

And that’s where I come in. Before the bugs attacked I wasn’t a soldier – hell I wasn’t much of anything. I had a decent job in the city, I played a lot of games, I had friends and went to bars and tried to meet people. Just a plain old normal person. But as most of the military got injured or killed fighting their retreat back home, pretty much anyone who could and would fight was given crash training in firearms and – if you volunteered – some pretty radical implants and splicing. I tensed one arm, and I felt the cable-like muscles constrict around my reinforced bones – not that I could see them, encased as they were in the thick plate-like armour we all wore. When all of our industry is turned over to producing arms and armour, turns out we make some pretty choice stuff. I’ve even got speakers wired into the headset, so I can listen to my choice of music as I fight and die here.

Fight, yes. Die? No. That little voice insisted. I don’t know where it came from, but as the first wave of bugs came over the crest of the plains ahead of us, I clung to that little spirit of defiance for all I was worth. Outwardly, I clung just as tightly to my father’s old shotgun – he was long passed, and to be honest I never knew why I’d kept it in my apartment. Probably violated all kinds of laws, unlicensed gun and all – not that it matters now. But I knew somehow that it had to be the weapon I fought the final fight with, along with the proper military rifle I had slung on my back. And when I’d caught sight of myself in the shiny side of one of the tanks that had deployed with us, I knew exactly what music I would play.

I tapped once on the side of my helmet and brought the shotgun up, and charged forwards from the orderly ranks behind me, powered forwards by the best metal soundtrack the world has ever known. Orders were shouted desperately after me, but I have only one commandment now.