Splazsh's followup simply doesn't hold the same tension or drive.

They’ve made the brave decision to remember what it’s like to feel and to breathe again, and it can all be heard in the stirring vibrations of Margolin’s words and voice.

Produced by Sam Evian, Loose Future is brighter and more buoyant than Andrews’ prior output, the Arizona-born artist displaying her well-honed songwriting and impressive vocal skills while adopting a pop-adherent sound.

While Clarke remains tethered to his sources, he still manages to flap his way toward the sun. In this version of the myth, his wings hold up, his father congratulates him, and the gods give him a brief yet sincere ovation.

Taken as a political, activistic, and aesthetic hybridization, Reed and Nehill’s work is fiercely confrontive, a treatise on humankind’s penchant for cruelty, its evolutionary missteps, but also its opportunities for redemption.

It would have been easy for songs to have come out overwrought and overproduced here, but instead we have a record of community, of gathering friends around to sing, play with, and support you.

After the muddy emotional quicksand of her previous album, Fohr has found an intoxicating clarity that abandons orchestras for beats. Recorded mostly at night in a basement-studio, the album exudes the limitless, animalistic jungian energy Pan stands for.

AM is a pitch black party record, full of menacing pop and grimy, indelible grooves drowned in bourbon.

Nü Sensae are one of the most formidable punk outfits working right now and Sundowning is the work of a band whittling themselves down to occupy the very tip of fury.

It’s one of the most gleeful and replayable debuts of 2013.

For 11 songs and 39 minutes, Tweedy creates a landscape of autumnal beauty and warm layers of guitars, which oscillate between experimental, almost distorted ambience and clear, saccharine folk melodies. There’s a few straight country tracks here, but for the most part, it’s minimalist genre-revisionism.

The album’s overwhelming atmosphere invites you to pore over the tracks, to take in each detail the light reaches, then comb over them again for everything you’ve missed.

nature morte is a wonderful, difficult album that requires patience and indulgence. The rewards are huge, though.

It’s outside the lines at times and consists of hues and shades you might not expect, but this is what makes Fragile Plane a fascinating listening experience.

The Bad Fire gives plenty of more ground to walk with and more layered depths to explore. It’s likely to stake some real estate in plenty of rotations worldwide, for those hoping for a follow up to 2021’s As The Love Continues that delivers on the same level. It’s ready for you.

Club Shy Room 2 is possibly Shygirl’s least cohesive project, but only because it shows so many facets of the artist’s skillset in its brief 15 minutes. She is sexy, she is bossy, she is fun, she is alternative, she is pop, she is the life of the party.

As it stands, The BPM allows Parks to showcase what a massive talent for writing and composing she has, removed from any constraints or genre terminology. A daring statement of intellectual and rich dance music that demands attention.

Researching The Blues isn't the album to convert non-fans of Redd Kross, but it does manage to tie in with the rest of Redd Kross' discography without sounding dated or out of touch.

Life is Good the most exciting Nas album to come around since It Was Written.

Abandon is one of the most cathartic, brutalizing, and beautiful experimental releases this or any year.

Antidawn is alive, and it expresses itself in those short bursts of iconic moments that shine something back.

Each track posseses different sounds, colours, styles and textures, but they combine to make an odd but strangely appealing whole.

While his latest effort is leaner and lighter than Cataclysm, it doesn’t recapture the essence of Ratchet, which may disappoint some despite the artist’s clear intention to change things up. But for those looking for a breezy indie rock record with Prince-vibes, Shamir delivers.

A Western Circular is likely to remain a curiosity – but it deserves much more than that. Here we have a gleaming, respiring and perspiring ode to the joy and pain of life, the looming shadow of death – and the importance that it gives to our daily struggles. All of these ideas are packaged up in lovingly arranged and sung art-pop songs, which sound as breezy and warm as an evening sitting out on the seafront with some close friends.

Changes is a meticulously crafted album that brims with hooks, deceptively complex vocals, and timely ambivalence; oh, add a sprinkle of hard-won morale – perfect for spring 2026.

By cause and effect, the music submissively ambles between full-on 80s throwback mode and stylish juxtapositions of different sensibilities, sometimes frustratingly so for those inclined to want to feel or hear something new. More often than not, The KVB are simply great at reconfiguring their core influences in fresh ways instead of blowing it up into an all-out pastiche, which isn’t an easy thing to do when your music summons such a specific set of atmospherics.

It’s one of the band’s biggest and best sounding records to date. The band doesn’t lack in sound traditionally, but Bayles’ production takes their grandest qualities and runs them through a meat grinder.

Though far from being a retread, Should’ve Learned bears some of the most evocative and affecting music of the quintet’s output thus far.

What comes reverberating out of Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was is Bright Eyes’ deep desire to create beautiful and ambitious music, which they’ve certainly done – even if the results aren’t as essential as what’s come before.

Maybe the way the album begins isn't supposed to put its 10 songs into the context of a live show, but certainly it ends the way you'd presume a Wye Oak show to close down: reflectively, with the audience's appreciation at first silent in captivation. Then, though it might not be audible on Civilian, well-deserved applause.

The album still comprises some truly enchanting touches that could only have come from him, and often they appear when working around a vocalist. These pop turns envision a world where radio hits have a bit more depth and experimentation, and if Lopatin’s output can continue to minutely steer mainstream music that way, then so much the better.

Burst Apart is full of wonderful little surprises like this, that add up to two big ones: that The Antlers didn't try to follow up Hospice by repeating themselves, and nevertheless, that they have delivered a more than worthy successor.

Here, Lopatin excels at what he’s been doing since his first release as Oneohtrix Point Never, and what first brought us to him: drawing feeling out of the digital realm, instead of just channeling it.

Push the Sky Away has the ability to move without raising its voice above a whisper.

Mike Kinsella has made not only one of his sincerest works to date, but also one of the most brutally honest albums of the year.

Luminol’s focused stylistics and singular aesthetic succeed overall, yielding a distinctly cohesive and compelling project while further establishing Johnston’s already recognizable brand.

Artistically, well, it skirts as close (and intelligently) to blasphemy as a 21st century project could – and Portrayal of Guilt indulge in this act with glee and artistic sensitivity. That it may remain a ‘minor’ work in their discography seems unjust, but then anything that blossoms from the seeds laid here will likely be even more garish, more haunted, more graceful than this black mass.

It’s an album that holds power found rarely these days – up there with Joy Division’s Closer in terms of transgressing the boundary between the macabre and ethereal, uniting music to dance to with spiritual experience, marking the twilight divide of utopia and dystopia.

Their latest LP, Christfucker, is a further and consummate refinement, resulting in a milestone of seamless eclecticism and uncompromising savagery.

Even without the context of her back catalog, these songs are strong in their own right.

Though academic in its tone, and impenetrable at points due to it's uncompromising focus on experimentation, Movement looks inward, probing the possibility of humanity even through an album centered on electronic instrumentation

There are echoes of the Spice Girls, Le Tigre, The Ting Tings, Kero Kero Bonito, and country-mates The Presets here, but despite its musical and stylistic nods to other acts, it still feels fresh – which is mostly down to the relentless delivery. But even at a respectable 39 minutes, it still loses steam; any album with this much energy would.

This is frivolous music best enjoyed as such. The trick to Sofi Tukker’s success is not to take them too seriously, even when they do so themselves.

It’s fun, it’s furious, and just about anyone should be able to appreciate that.

Moms is perfect evidence that Menomena are still more than capable of holding their own.

It may not reach the same creative highs or artistic wholeness of their previous releases, but in its own right, it can be just as enjoyable.

This album is exciting and promising: Tech N9ne seems to be filling his growing shoes gracefully.

For better or worse, Chemtrails Over The Country Club is 100% a Lana Del Rey record that fits quaintly into her discography. Anyone following her up to this point shouldn’t bat an eye at how sharp of a left turn this is compared to her previous album. She’s absurdly contrived, but the allure is far too captivating to look away.

The guest list occasionally weighs the project down. “Sweet Nuthins”, featuring Leon Thomas, suffers from a cluttered mix that distracts from a vocal performance that deserved more space. But whenever the album threatens to capsize under its own ambition, Kehlani rights the ship by isolating their voice.

Even if it isn’t the notable stylistic statement that McCartney II was, it still feels poignant, and yes: surprisingly youthful.

Allelujah! seems more immediate and more organic, but instead of feeling blown away by it's unreachable drama and grandeur, with a decade of age behind us and the band, it feels inhabitable in a way Godspeed never has before.

These songs are probably Jurado's most ambitious portraits yet in terms of ideas and eclecticism.

Barbarism is much further from the sound of a Priests record than expected, and it’s further proof that the Greer isn’t interested in repeating the past over and over again.

He achieves a lot with a little. He never gives us filler. He continues to innovate. He has provided us with a great album, one that is a sure sign his velocity has not been slowed.

Both in its challenging nature and its status as an emblem of everything that the Motion Sickness of Time Travel project has dealt in to date, it functions, without a doubt, as Evans most accomplished release of her career and one of the more accomplished ambient albums in recent memory.

There’s so much talent and story hidden behind the mask, but this album isn’t Orville Peck at his truest.

This is a record that feels whole and woven with direction and intent. It may disappoint some who desire the disjointed immediacy of Pain Olympics, but don’t discount Tough Baby just because of its lack of single-worthy material. Give it time to allow its message of hope and empathy amidst disarray to take hold.

The True Story of Bananagun is as exciting and addictive as debut albums come, appropriately soundtracking a much-needed hope in the future of the genre while brightening up early summer in the northern hemisphere.

Warnings is a real grower; for every moment of instant gratification here, there’s another that requires more work. The more time you invest in I Break Horses’ latest work, the more you get out of it.

There’s a constant fluidity, a continuum of becoming throughout IRE, and the band stubbornly, almost gleefully, refuse to return earthbound.

Torres doesn’t really feel like a debut, let alone something remotely self-released–the songwriting ability and surprisingly fantastic and natural production allow for this journal-esque story to get its due.

It's all dizzying and overwhelming, but the sheer brute strength of The Money Store stays tempered by a pervasive, unbridled sense of creativity.

This debut’s musical landscape happens to cover an emotional vastness that far surpasses simply anger. There’s heartbreak, melancholy, humor, hopefulness, and even victory—so much more than rage. No matter the emotion, Androgynous Mary finds the band united on the same front, firing on all cylinders through its straightforward punk agenda and nuanced sentimentality.

It may have taken nearly 20 years since its resurrection, but Lawrie’s exploring new dimensions with his band that are far and wide; a subtle yet severe departure from its beginnings.

As it is, The Lion's Roar is a quality release, but due to the stand out tracks being placed at the front and the end, the middle section feels weaker than it is, making the overall impression of the album suffer.

Allen’s songwriting is the sole thing that needs to be focused on; the impressiveness comes from the variety of sounds and the subtle details. It would be truly surprising if someone were able to use this as background music.

What starts out as a great Woods record unfortunately peters out towards the end. Regardless, Woods have assembled a worthy “comeback” album of sorts, one that highlights all of their best moments, and even some of their more forgettable ideas.

It would be easy to say the album is carried by the collabs or FaltyDL, but that would be a lie. Mykki’s imprint is just as strong and powerful. Lyrics about spirituality or black queer politics add to the depth and joy of the record.

She soars above her previous albums My Name Is Safe in Your Mouth and Who the Power, delivering Internal Working Model just as she planned, with upped movement and rocking pulse, all while teaching us a constructive moral imperative in this new year.

Working with whimsicality as much as grief, Sparhawk reinvents himself, exploring inner landscapes and imaginary worlds, all while having a bit of fun.

After numerous lineup changes, this album feels like Ackerman’s hitting of reset button has finally worked, and the project is continuing down the intriguing path started last year resulting in a hell of a comeback album.

Blue Raspberry is Kirby’s most pointed, honest, and resonant self. There’s heaviness everywhere, and it should be excavated in doses. Still, her voice remains in bloom, providing a levity that yet again makes a Katy Kirby listening experience a comforting one.

This all makes On&On Blumberg’s most accomplished and also his most mystifying work to date.

Taken all together, Fake It Flowers is a resoundingly confident and addictive debut from someone who sounds like she’s ready to take on the world.

They’ve expanded their scope: synths creep in, melodies swell, and the hooks land so big they feel like catharsis stumbled into, punchy like the loud headers on a brochure for a new treatment center — you know, the one that’ll finally do the trick this time.

Life, and Another expands her palette tenfold with different hues and tones that would typically go unnoticed on an experimental record. The result is her most engaging work yet.

Although it seems Jehnny Beth has decided to go solo to express more of her vulnerabilities, by the end of To Love is To Live it’s hard to say whether we actually feel any closer to her. However, it also shows her chameleonic abilities as a vocalist, as she’s working with different styles and productions yet still sounding urgent.

Weird Faith is an honest and well-written record by one of underground pop’s sharpest and most empathetic artists.

It’s a considerable improvement over the absolute mess that was Love is Dead, at the very least, but they’ve taken a step a bit too far into their past to bounce back fully.

Empath’s Visitor is the stunning follow-up most young bands only dream of creating.

It's a lovely, weightless set of songs from an artist whom we can now reasonably assume is capable of producing consistently great music.

It's as if you chucked the lot into a tumble dry and waited to see what came out, ultimately ending up with something completely different.

W becomes more than just ‘another’ Boris album. Like other albums that capture the sublime – be it Kid A, Loveless, Eskimo or On Land – it conjures a sense of presence that is somewhat alien, slightly haunted, certainly physical. It toys with ideas of memories we associate with certain sounds and atmospheres, how our emotions can be formed through sensory experience and time becomes illusory.

Forever Means is not just a B-side compilation; these songs sound distinct from each other but somehow come together cohesively.

WIXIW is simply a Liars album that exceeds expectations and throws a sonic left curve that not only impresses, but reminds us how talented this band is.

This is You & i are Earth’s best strength: its intimacy, its cosiness, and its unabashed adoration of its subjects.

Cavalcade is an experience album, one that lingers long after it’s over. It calls to you from the basement.

Over the course of the album, we seem to hear Fohr coming to terms with the vastness of mortality, and realising that it is in itself beautiful – it is what makes life precious. With the enormity of that acceptance gradually arriving, her soul emerges, no longer eclipsed by grief, shining brighter than ever.

With additional help from fellow musician and frequent collaborator Justin Vernon (whose vocals are the only overdubbed aspect of the music), the songs on To See More Light are as devastatingly personal as they are emphatically otherworldly--inhuman sounding even. This stark dichotomy of sound and intent throws Stetson’s music into austere relief.

The Caretaker certainly remains a fascinating and worthwhile project.

It is the bravery of the album that is its greatest triumph.

Where there was honesty in the lyricism of "Losing My Edge" in 2002, there is now sonic honesty in the vivacious rock and roll that is the London Sessions.

The Plot finds the group building on their palate, zeroing in on the details more than ever before, meaning the straight up fidgety punk ("Sheena Is A T-Shirt Salesman"), keyboard-led silliness ("A Guide To Men") and the obligatory epic closer ("Notes On Achieving Orbit") are all better realised than their cousins on previous albums.

Not since Everything’s Fine has Quelle Chris sounded so surefire and determined. He wears beats with flair now, and lyrically he’s in top form, moving like a chameleon behind the mic and in front. Deathfame is easily the best solo outing for Chris so far.

It’s a consistently good album, and one that harks back to their previous work while also suggesting new possibilities as they move forward. It would be nice if they could take less time to get the next album out, though.

The album is the sound of Penelope pushing back, deciding that the closing of motherhood is not the end of her life. She’s confident and resolute in spirit and vision. It’s art defined by ageing and it’s all the more powerful for it.

Judging from these recordings, it’s unclear where Secret Machines are heading. Their strength lies in dynamic live shows, and those are postponed until further notice. Awake in the Brain Chamber possesses the clean-cut sound of a mainstream rock album that can sell large quantities, but it lacks the wild abandon and unique inspiration that leads to fervent adoration – the qualities that made their debut album into an underdog classic of the era. But the potential remains.

Her transitions between language and style are seamless, and the carefully crafted and idiosyncratic arrangements help to guide our ears along with her mind and heart.