Fancy Some More? is a lot of fun. It leans further into the '90s/noughties than its predecessor, intensifying its jungle and D&B undercurrent while also adding some Madchesterian flavour with SEVENTEEN's mix of "Illegal."

By the end of Nothing's About to Happen to Me, it feels as though Mitski has reclaimed both her home and her mythos. No longer lingering on the edges of the album, she steps into her art as presently as she can, trusting that it will continue to speak for her long after she's gone.

While she tries to impress upon us that the girl we knew is now a woman who reads tarot cards and engages in pure sexual pleasure, bold and brash have never entered the lexicon when it comes to Hilary Duff and her music — and maybe they never will. We love her because she stays earnest.

While it may not be flawless, it's another strong entry in a consistently compelling catalogue. His mom called it a masterpiece, and I guess that's all that matters.

Wuthering Heights expertly plays with the joys and violence of love, always leaving space for the nuances of both. As the sun finally rises at its finish, it's clear that this album is ultimately an optimistic love story, even if it's a Gothic horror set within Bluebeard's castle.

It's possible that hyperpop purists and longtime Harle fans will wince at the sanded-down edges and softened tones that make up this album — go listen to "Boing Beat" or "Interlocked" for an ungentle reminder of how bonkers Harlecore remains a half-decade a later. And yet, Cerulean is undeniably fun, and cements Harle's standing as a singular artist in the world of progressive pop.

Whether it becomes the hip-hop classic he envisioned will be decided over time, but this is peak J. Cole — for better or worse.

With URGH, Mandy, Indiana have crafted the first great album of 2026, one that rewards with each exhausting listen. In a time of crisis and uncertainty, URGH is not merely cathartic: it's exorcistic.

There are undeniable flashes of peak Joji scattered throughout the album, which only heightens the frustration. They serve as reminders of his ability to be great, confirming the unevenness as less of a lack of talent and more of an excess of underdeveloped ideas.

Taken together, Butterfly feels less like a fusion of Daphni and Caribou, and more like an uninhibited manifestation of Snaith's ever-changing tastes and proclivities.

Singin' is comfortably the most accomplished and self-assured Ratboys album to date.

An overstuffed and engrossing album that's a bit of a mess.

It comes as no surprise then that Megadeth, like so many of those latter-day albums, is an uneven affair, front-loaded with its best material in the time-honoured tradition — but when it's good, it's good.

The project hits a bit of a rut with "Rachel's Song" — an anachronistic cover of a Vangelis composition for Blade Runner — and the subsequent "Stardust," whose droning synth line and latent drum pattern ironically also give the impression of the film score for a sci-fi thriller, albeit an underbaked one. Fortunately, Tragic Magic rediscovers its rhythm on closing track "Melted Moon," a song written in response to the tragic wildfires that consumed much of Los Angeles last January.

The result is a dozen highly listenable songs that don't sound like anything else in the world of rock music right now.

A saviour of lost noise, it's plunderphonics at its finest and most process-oriented, data and the digital transmogrified to something warm, nostalgic, tense — and, above all, timely.

As a whole, Stardust is Brown's strongest album since 2019's uknowwhatimsayin¿. This is a concise, confident and encouraging body of work that will instill hope in fans for what's to come.

The record is in constant danger of toppling under its own weight. Thankfully, Rosalía largely manages to keep her head above the swell of her own ambition. Built on enormous waves of strings, brass, choir, thunderous kettledrums, bells and flamenco rhythms, it's a miracle just how nimble LUX sounds.

Reflecting on their shared experiences in the rural landscaping of the South Central states, Pedigo helps the band break out beyond the confines of their genre, sawing through the crust to bask in the heat of a molten core.

Despite Snocaps' supergroup pedigree, their debut album feels less like boygenius-style star-making moment and more like a low-stakes romp. With a spirit of fun and camaraderie, this feels a bit like the rock-leaning cousin to Katie Crutchfield's band Plains.

A couple tracks are crowded and rambling, as the theatrical cacophony obscures intention and meaning in a way that bores rather than intrigues. But for the most part, the album's depth and texture are a refreshing contrast to the industry's current hyper-polished pop moment — and the complexity of the arrangements is essential to support the magnitude of Welch's vulnerability and fury.

An argument can now be made for the significance of Through the Open Window, because it's ground zero. Although large chunks of the material have circulated previously (as, well, bootlegs), the restorative sonic care and Wilentz's chronological contextualization is invaluable.

All in all, the brilliance of West End Girl lies in its lack of pretension, and the fact that its room feels mostly cleared of committee.

If Touch were the first album by a brand new band, it would likely be judged as an unequivocal triumph — but Tortoise suffer from the burden of their iconic back catalogue.

Save the Gun is certainly Militarie Gun's most "mainstream" record, with synths, strings and studio tricks co-mingling with distortion and Shelton's caustic, confessional roar. Unfortunately, not every song is a winner, with a number of uninspired tracks in the second half of the record plodding along without the energy or muscle of the first. .... Thankfully, the final act is positively anthemic, with Shelton's voice and the band's booming sincerity keeping the songs from entering derivative "stadium rock" territory.

Mileage on the more pastoral, slow tunes may vary, but bar italia are now a band in flux: they've mastered the chaos, and here is their first, true attempt to merge the hypnagogic impulses of their early efforts with the choleric punk of their present.

Perhaps it's the vulnerability at the core of THE BPM that really makes what Sudan Archives is doing still feel so fresh. Standing out in the club music scene, it sets a new standard for anyone interested in playing with sound while maintaining an accessible heartbeat.

Belong is a welcome addition to Jay Som's discography, and will undoubtedly solidify her reputation as your favourite pop singer's favourite pop singer.