The creative choices to splice, juxtapose and mess with the song structures that don’t work are conscious ones driven by the same tenacity that shapes the best songs of Join Hands, so the band is not misguided in trying them – overexcited would be more accurate.

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.

The record listens more than it announces, observes more than it persuades. In a musical theme that rewards velocity, Scott offers duration, attention sustained long enough for meaning to settle.

The album sometimes feels as if Charli committed fully to her concept, but didn’t allow herself to branch out even further, reach higher, express – or even abandon – more. It is a symphony, but not quite an opus. Yet as it stands, this might actually be her most successful album.

Instrumentally, Liturgy of Death returns (mostly) to Mayhem’s 80s and early 90s sound and structure, which should please most post-millennial Mayhem haters. But on tracks like “Propitious Death” and “The Sentence of Absolution” I do hear some of their previous progressive influences creeping under the surface. .... Perhaps the most compelling aspect of Liturgy of Death is its philosophical musings.

The band continues such a music building process on EXPO. This time around the balance Ulrika Spacek create is between electronic and traditional rock instrumentation while at the same time keeping the complexity of the music at the level that makes music have a natural flow.

From the opener to the closing track, a listener beholds an oftentimes savage and rivetingly textured spectacle.

Its stark contrasts and melancholy work better on each spin, revealing artists who are wrestling with existential situations.

Each of the 12 tracks here are packed with layers of intricate musical details that sometimes don’t even sound appropriate, but fit the other parts like a silk glove.

It’s clear that Williams had fun here, that he was able to embrace some of his contemporaries and heroes. But it never feels like a classic record, a necessary record, a weighty record.

These songs don’t posture or peak dramatically; they sit, brood, and occasionally spiral.

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.

Instead of going out with a nuclear bang, Megadeth serves lean sides that won’t clog the final tour’s setlists.

The most striking thing about No More Like This is how much PVA’s confidence in their own musical ability has grown since their debut. You can hear it reflected across the 10 songs here.

There is a striking balance in the 12 songs here between respecting the pop formulas that strike the right chord among a wide-ranging audience and trying to introduce elements from other genres or sub-genres that might be unfamiliar to any specific individual listener.

World’s Gone Wrong extends Williams’ fertile run, infused with the aesthetic adventurousness and undiluted honesty that have characterized her work for over four decades.

Don’t Be Dumb won’t replace old favourites. But it is, in its own sprawling way, a reaffirmation of what makes Rocky compelling: his appetite for risk, his curation of texture and collaborators, and his refusal to smooth every rough edge.

Those looking for something truly Earth-shattering to rival either musician’s greatest accomplishments may be disappointed, but what they have conceived and created feels far more natural.

Secret Love may well capture the vapidity of the consumeristic life, but does it, in the process, dip into vapidity itself? Rather than critiquing or lampooning end-stage capitalism, Shaw in particular seems to have succumbed to its toxicities. Perhaps the album is best heard as a memento mori, a dying declaration – art, like everything else, drowning in the waters of mendacity.

Implosion not only delivers on this maxim but it might just be the heaviest thing Martin or Fiedler has ever done.

Given her focus on the internal world she’s created, Night CRIÚ arrives feeling something like an emergence. Indeed, the emotions on display are still furtive and inscrutably personal, yet the music here is the most tangible Woods has offered to date, the most vivid.

In The Earth Again holds the extremes of their sounds simultaneously. It allows Pedigo to channel his craft into something more sinister and evocative, while Chat Pile indulge in sample and tape manipulation, exploring a tenderness and depth of sincerity surpassing that of previous albums.

The symbolism of this album, poetic and interconnected, is vital and immense, while the sonic background is (for the most part) disquieting and unnerving. More so than Haram and even the spectral Test Strips, Mercy captures a world that is slowly embracing the unbearable evil of switching channels that morph to dead static.

Despite the diversity of collaborators, the album does have parts that sounds a tad samey and perhaps certain sections could have been left out. However, Stardust is a victory lap for Brown capped off with “All4U”, featuring a selection of perfectly atmospheric sounds programmed by Dariacore creator Jane Remover and a relentless onslaught of words from hip-hop’s UNCexpected innovator.

Okay, they may never reach the heady heights of Between 10th and 11th again, but we should just be grateful that they still exist and are still looking to move their sound forward in ways that many of their ‘peers’ seem incapable of. It doesn’t always hit, but when it works it’s a glorious thing.

Even rapping alongside a ghost, Hav’s chemistry with P hasn’t lost a step and they feel as natural a pair as they ever did. Prodigy’s verses don’t feel awkwardly sandwiched in, instead naturally befitting each track, with each beat carefully curated to match his flow and tone.

While its predecessor certainly offered glimpses into her private life, nothing could prepare her most ardent fans for the completely unvarnished, beautiful, hot mess that is West End Girl.

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.