Sometimes pushing the envelope may be a grandiose gesture, other times more subtle, and while Wild Nothing may never be a Brian Eno, there’s certainly nothing wrong with being a Felt or Go-Betweens.

It's pleasant, unsurprisingly enough, in both its sonic direction and minimal production, but it lacks the sense of overwhelming purpose usually found on both artists' solo records.

It's nice to see that Tokumaru has shaken what seemed like guilt about trying to make a playful world filled with as many toy-instruments as possible. It's unfortunate, however, that he has removed much of the emotional content that made his previous albums so rewarding on repeat listens.

Rather than a cohesive structured debut effort that was the product of a cooperative band, you have a Frankenstein-ian melding of cast off parts.

All things considered, this EP seems to be breeding ground for experimentation and possibly be what's to come from a second LP.

Hackney Diamonds is a really great late Stones album, albeit just a pretty good rock album in the canon of history. That’s a compliment.

You can’t help but admire their ambition, but their tendency to overreach is inhibiting them from becoming the band they want and deserve to be.

Pressure Machine proves a successful concept album for The Killers. ... The primary weakness of this album, however, relates to its uniform sound, where tracks bleed into each other. Regardless, this is a new evolution for the band who, this far into their career, have taken something of a left turn to create something that is lyrically and thematically captivating.

Boys & Girls is a short album that clocks in at 35-minutes over the course of 11 songs. But by the time it's done, you'll want to start it over again.

The Soft Pack's knack for a no-tassels hook is what ends up making Strapped worthwhile, and it works best when they tighten the screws and keep it concise.

CLAMM are strongest when processing their internal states of mind.

Despite an array of musical styles, the songs all tend to plod along at the same tempo, which becomes a little frustrating in places. The portraits of sombre and solemn humanity painted on the best songs here are rich, whereas they fall into caricatures on the weaker tracks – although these are in the minority, to be fair. Even when the material is less than hoped for, his voice can still manage to grab you square in the heart.

What results is a more even effort, a more accomplished record, by all stretches of the imagination, but one that lacks a single truly brilliant track to elevate it above the legion of Brooklyn guitar bands.

It's both the sleaziest album of the year and Diddy's intricate fantasy world of mistreatment and vindication presented as a bizarre mass.

Even if it isn't quite as organically endearing as their past work, Dracula successfully retains the same sensational personality that's made them such a must-hear act.

The album remains enjoyable throughout, but too much of it feels a bit too been-there-done-that. Luckily, there are three tracks with guests, and this is where the album truly shines.

There are no bad songs here. Some fans might even be thrilled with the more consistent approach. For Their Love often feels like the more meticulously produced sibling to Tamer Animals, both to its credit and discredit. There’s not a lot of staying power on this record, but at least it’s well done.

Simply as an album, this is good stuff, and nothing can take away from that, it's only hard to forget how much more the man who brought it to you is capable of.

IDLES are evolving and learning how to create change through a model most accepting. It’s 2020: let’s try the simplicity of hope and clichéd positivity for a change. Maybe this tight collection of high-octane nursery rhymes and simple chants will do the trick.

The album is suffused with atmosphere, and is full of intriguing narrative ideas, compelling lyrics, and some of her most well-observed stories. Ultimately, though, it ends up coming off a bit too staid and stuck in its own yawning landscape to truly take off.

Every song sounds like a bunch of musicians taking things in stride, enjoying the process of creating over all else. Obviously by loosening the reins a bit, the pitfalls of sometimes recycling melodic and lyrical ideas aren’t completely dodged, and by effect, some tracks end up stranded in limbo around the two-and-a-half minute mark.

No doubt working through the pain and trauma on Violence in a Quiet Mind has helped; the album sounds like a successful therapeutic device for Black. That we’re able to listen in feels intrusive at times, but only because of how vulnerable Black himself sounds. It’s the sound of someone closed off for a long time finally starting to open up.

Aisles doesn’t take many risks, but perhaps that’s for the best. Over the past decade, Angel Olsen has proven herself a more-than-worthy voice in indie rock, and a fun little aside from her album output is something to welcome.

Strays becomes a more consistently enjoyable experience as the album progresses. If there’s a sense in the album’s first four tracks that Price felt pressure to write an obvious radio hit, on the remainder of the album she tunes out outside pressures and luxuriates in the space she has carved out for herself; subverting sonic expectations, rewarding listener patience, and penning affecting character studies and vignettes.

Instrumentally the record feels like a flash in the pan; the first few bites are crunchy and moreish, but it does become a little dry after a while. At times this doesn’t matter because the lyrics hold you, but then again that’s like having half a slice of pizza; good, but not quite satiating.

Prizefighter is the definition of inoffensive. It is unlikely to catch ears of those for whom Mumford & Sons’ sound faded into the background 10 years ago, but it was one of the most anticipated albums of 2026 for fans who welcomed their return from extended absence with 2025’s Rushmere. With their spirited new record, Mumford & Sons have kept that momentum alive.

All in all, the album is an above average collection for a band well past their expected use-by date; and with new blood injected into them, a world tour booked, and promises that they'll continue writing on tour, they don't seem to be stopping any time soon. This could be the beginning for a highly successful era of the band.

It's a beautiful EP deserving of repeat listening.

Delta Spirit delivers a handful of superb cuts that have the band taking a modest step forward.

The eclectic Portland, Oregon based quintet's 6th studio album is a return to form following last year's Destroyer of the Void, which, despite showcasing Blitzen Trapper's refined instrumental chops, came off as flat, derivative, and fatally overproduced.

With more ups than downs, Was I The Wave? is a pleasant diversion with a small handful of truly inspired moments.

While it's an album prime for some excellent live renditions, it's the tendency to brood too much or even approach tedium at some points leaves further room for the development of this sound.

The narrative arc – so expertly disguised when the album started – yields a release with surprising character and soul.

Slow Pulp capture what shoegaze and dreampop do best: offering reassurance not that your decisions are right, but that questioning them is what life is about.

It’s a surprising record, and another good example of what makes Mann such an indispensable songwriter, but it’s hard for most of these songs to stand alone – we’re left wondering what’s really going on between these melancholy ruminations.

Sure, it's nice to hear such a talented songwriter working with ease and precision, but it's just not always that interesting.

There are good ideas scattered about on the record, but when you have to pass through several minutes of cacophonous effects and layers of sound, it can get a little exhausting.

Worship [is] an occasionally solid, but ultimately forgettable affair.

Throughout, she marches from truly great lyricism that is on par with the very best of her contemporary idols and peers to unfiltered writing that leads to more ridicule on TikTok than engagement with the listener. Musically, the project is also split between deeply engaging material that is her best yet, while the main album at times just seems too homogenous for its own good in locked in mid-tempo and synth-pop.

Their order within the EP works together to create a new mood, and the listener easily comprehends why Copycat Killer is worth attention after having experienced Punisher. These new versions are not worlds apart from the originals, but the value is in the very small things such as subtle melody changes and different track ordering – working beautifully with Moose’s orchestral talents.

It’s clear that OH NO will not be remembered as one of Xiu Xiu’s most stellar records. Yet, as usual with collaborations, it’s likely that each listener is likely to find their own tracks they ditch, just like different ones will stand out, given the varying degrees of artistic touches these additional musicians bring with their own aesthetics and histories.

Mostly, the listener will leave Kiss Each Other Clean craving something lyrically to hold onto, to become affected beyond the immediate emotional stirs that the pure prettiness of songs like Godless Brother In Love.

While Smiling spreaded itself thin at times, Owusu sounds more settled on Struggler and contorts his voice less.

This may not be a step upwards, but it is a step forward in the overall right direction.

So while it displays a more mature and focused sound for The Drums, the album eventually crumbles beneath the weight of its influential stilts.

Ultimately, Colourgrade feels like staying up all night on the couch alongside Tirzah, but rather than chatting away, you exchange the occasional warm remarks, getting no nearer to knowing what’s really going on inside her head.

It's fun, accessible, at times completely unique, but ultimately it would have nice to hear Jr. Jr. challenge their own sound a little more on their debut album.

Once again Dunn creates slow, careful, and judicious pieces that mirror the sound between the memories in your head, often lulling the listener into an introspective calm.

They’re at their most eclectic, striving for a “greatest aspects” project. The set highlights the band’s multifacetedness, offering moments of transcendent rage, but also feels cumulatively scattered, lacking an emotional axis or sense of sonic continuity.

McCombs would be better served rediscovering wit, rather than abandoning it, thus leaving the listener feeling abandoned as well. But, again, I guess that is the point.

ME REX have taken a leap and tried something fresh, and depending on how much the thought of an album with instructions thrills or annoys you, you’ll get varying degrees of enjoyment from it. Equally though, that’s kind of the point.

Even though Supermigration is constructed as a whole, it doesn’t always work best in one sitting.

A sweet elegy to small group jazz, Sunday Morning Put-On almost demands you lay back and just let the standards do their thing. Without a doubt, they are in good, careful hands here.

There’s just something slightly underdeveloped about the thing as a whole, as if Lorde was excited to excise these meditations and get them into some interesting musical passages.

For all its gorgeous expansiveness and new perspectives, it never comes together to be incisive or essential.

Tricolore is enjoyable, but it’s a sum of two different parts; together it comes off as strangely disjointed, like shifting from speaking German to speaking Japanese.

Most of Cooler Returns is an extension of what their last album was – that’s intentional. These aren’t meant to be revelations, or even to be taken as on-point analysis of a time or place. This is music for the soul, if your soul is literally craving a beer and a nap.

They’ve built up enough good will at this point that they’re able to maintain a massive fanbase by coasting through comfortable records – and they could probably continue to do that for a few more years at least. But, if Berninger and co really want to rediscover purpose in their lives and work, perhaps it’s time to push themselves somewhere a little riskier.

Essentially, Aimlessness is a jovial affair that promises more in its first half than it can deliver in its second.

With repeated listens though, the tracks on Versions don’t entice you back again and again like the ominous hook-laden tracks of Stridulum or even the wide sound palette of Conatus do. Versions is probably best for those who were there at the Guggenheim concert.

Sure Zonoscope is splattered with stumbled-upon gems, but a little more editing and maybe some more focused songwriting sessions could have really brought Zonoscope into focus.

The Universe Inside might not be insanely memorable as a whole, but will still make for recurrent vivid flashbacks in the days after you’ve listened to it.

Ripe for radio play it may never see, Spine Hits is a neutral but enjoyable record for the impending days of sun and so-what.

Suuns are a great band that just get a little too bogged down by their own lofty ambitions. As such, The Witness is a serviceable post-punk album, one that ends up as an interesting listen but with little to pull us back to it.

It’s retreading old ground and shouting at clouds, but also genuine and at times beautiful in its crystalline synth-pop nostalgia.

There's a great EP's worth of material hiding within Replicants, and I wish it had stayed that way.

Though it may take some time to grow accustomed to, this is a record you'll want to wrap yourself up in.

It’s a decent follow-up, but one that unfortunately comes off less Bartees Strange and more Bartees Safe.

As a listening experience in one sweep, the album fascinates and lulls the listener in equal measure. Moments across the near 40 minute runtime pique your attention and are dazzling in a peculiar way.

Berninger’s vocal delivery is largely muted; the mercurial and even passive-aggressive eruptions of the 00s are all but gone; rather, there’s a downcast directness here, which at times is compelling in the way that self-revelation and truth-telling can be; at other times, such singularity seems glaringly reductive, a listener wishing for the metaphors, tortuous narratives, and volatile phrasing of earlier work.

They haven't quite found it yet, but Esben and the Witch have the potential for an arresting and momentous album in them.

There are bright spots on Spoon’s 10th album, which indicate that Daniel’s bargain with Lucifer can still inspire him and his band to deliver the goods. It’s just that for now, it appears to be only a strong EP’s worth.

Not everything on evermore truly works or lands satisfyingly, but it’s all part of a creative process that is producing some of her best and most surprising work to date. And considering portions of the world are still dealing with lockdown and are isolating ahead of returning home for Christmas, it still certainly feels like the best “worst time” to be making music like this.

If The Car is any automobile in particular, it’s a Ferrari or Lamborghini; you might watch it pass for a moment, admiring its sleek curves, shimmering façade and purring engine, but you won’t care much about the driver – and once it’s out of view, it probably won’t be long before it fades from memory.

Sweep It Into Space has all the ingredients for a pleasant listen, while doing little to separate itself from the rest of their discography.

Despite the thimble of predictability or aural similarity, Wahlfeldt has accomplished in Crusher an interesting take on familiar sounds. It’s too fuzzed out to just be post-punk, too sparse to just be a home-recorded take on his alt-rock idol.

These three tracks ["A Broken Heart," "Lysandre," and "Everywhere You Knew"] function as everything Owens could have dreamed this first solo effort to be. But the rest of the album, which aims for similar points of emotional cohesiveness, but due to some ham-fisted instrumental choices, the message can become muddled.

If Born Sinner proves anything, it’s that he’s not ready to take the fall, but he as a long way to go if he wants to rope off an area all his own in hip hop’s evolution.

Akron/Family are never going to stop changing and you never really know what you’re gonna get, but they could perhaps do with a bit more cohesiveness and bit less grandiosity next time around.

everything still worries me is Ozard honing the skills she’s been showing off over the past few years, but before long she’ll have to step outwards, make bigger steps, and take more risks

Early Birds paints a picture of how the band were operating before they got around to releasing their debut, showing that they were just as interested in being silly and experimental as they are today.

The album is pleasant in every way you could want it to be, but it’s also a few truck stops short of their best and most memorable work. Still, it’s hard to deny it’s enjoyable to hear two friends play together and connect over an affection for a genre that was so formative for both of them.

To the Ghosts both romanticizes life and love while also providing a reality check that is much needed and somehow manages to be jarringly comforting. The album showcases all that we have come to know and love about Cults, while also allowing them to explore other sides of their creativity.

There's nothing bad about it--at all--but considering how much work seems to have gone into it, it should feel that bit more captivating.

Barn is a really solid Crazy Horse record, definitely in the upper third of Neil’s output over the last decade or two. There’s a lot of joy and atmosphere in the set, and while some of the tracks here might be a bit too typical of their genre tropes or Neil’s past, they also bring with them a timeless, warm sense of identity and perspective totally unique in the current music world.

As it stands, it’s a solid and often a fun listen, with some real highlights and crystalline production, but for such a lofty eponymous allusion, the album winds up shortchanging itself a bit, rarely languishing long enough in its own ideas to land the dizzying punch Santigold has revealed herself to be capable of time and again.

There is no common thread, no thematic continuity and no real obvious reason behind any decision-making. It's an EP that is bound to raise the age-old philosophical question, "What is an EP for?"

PREY//IV sounds like Crystal Castles, but it isn’t a copy of their three albums. This is how they would have progressed, taking influence from FKA twigs and Arca amongst others.

When viewed on its own, Vol. 3 is a pleasant, though fundamentally flawed, ending to Smith’s musical journey.

While it’s not breaking any new ground or causing any philosophical contemplation, it’s highly doubtful that the album is trying to be more than what it exactly is: a collection of songs about dancing your way out of the complications and snares that so often accompany love.

Tapes 'n Tapes will probably never again manage to capture the youthful, devil-may-care magic of The Loon--those times are passed. But Outside, with its handful of pretty fantastic tracks, shows positive signs that this band may not be the victim of early success that it once seemed destined to be.

Widowspeak are a perfectly enjoyable, if ultimately unexciting band.

If The Year of Hibernation was childhood nostalgia, this is existentialist pubescence.

Like a lot of Andrew Bird albums of late, Inside Problems needs some time to reveal itself. Its frustrations and lidless graspings at the world are part of the game here, so that it doesn’t nestle quickly into a box on first listen feels appropriate.

Headcage has a pair of iffy tracks to weigh down two good--if not great--tracks, the whole EP sits in a generally favourable position in my view.

Still strong, but without precision, the cut isn’t as deep.

Tension II is a fun continuation of what has been Kylie’s renaissance since 2020’s Disco album. It is not wholly without flaws as stated above but still manages to solidify that Kylie will always be someone we just can’t get out of our heads.

Neither cold enough to make a disquieting impression nor warm enough to connect with the listener the way the artist’s own A Strangely Isolated Place or, hell, Amber did.