While there are subdued moments throughout, Remember The Humans more often than not offers a unique listening experience within each of these songs, supported ably by a wide variety of instrumentation and expansive production.

The sturdy, timeless pop Edkins accomplishes often gets taken for granted, which, really, is the doomed story of power pop in a nutshell. But for a good 30-plus minutes, he convinces you that its ability to please is undeniable.

A considered affair, brilliantly performed but rarely thrilling, with highlights coming in the form of hypnotic slow burners like “The Air’s On Fire” and the soaring finale “Moonlight Understands.”

Lime Garden isn’t shy about their influences, sure, but what many of those artists lacked at the time, soaring choruses that linger for days, they deliver in spades.

The eclectic range Bey displays in Fidelity occasionally runs into filler, but it also drops clues into what her next big statement might entail.

For the most part, Birding follows the Cocteau Twins template to a tee, seemingly daring listeners and critics alike to find a better descriptor than the all-too-obvious ‘ethereal’. But deary are smart enough to inject some variety, which they achieve by incorporating heavier, almost explosive passages.

There’s nothing too revealing here, but the familiar, comforting touch they always offer is more than welcome.

A sumptuously produced record with an enviable hit-to-miss ratio, Middle of Nowhere delivers more than enough drama, humour, and sparkle to solidify Musgraves’ place on the country music throne.

Easter Lily, released on Good Friday, offers the visceral, emotional experience that U2 fans have been yearning for the longest time.

While they try subtle new tricks, like compressing Grohl’s vocals to almost-grating levels amid muddy sound mixing, their attempts at sounding edgy usually land in a pleasant middle ground.

Ultimately, Something Worth Waiting For is an album of good songs with some sequencing and balance issues. Its problems have nothing to do with quality in the traditional sense, but Friko will need to temper some of their maximalist tendencies if they want to seize the indie rock throne.

Consistent, assured, and suitably varied, Brink is a very impressive debut from a band with a bright future. Confuse them with Scouting for Girls at your peril.

While well-intentioned, the EP overall gave me some pause, as it proved that U2 sometimes can’t help themselves to write placid pop rock songs that don’t disrupt their quest for supreme relevance.

Her exploration of the self in Pain Will Polish Me sometimes feels lacking, which makes the project seem somewhat drab. But it’s the small touches she adds, such as the instrumentals named after her child, Hera, that are unexpectedly poignant.

Creature of Habit is another respectable entry in her increasingly understated and overlooked discography.

Sometimes, as on “Pure Sticker Shock,” the emphasis on open space can drag. Let’s just say that there’s a lack of punchy anthems, but as tracks like “Votive” and “Ballad of the Last Payphone” demonstrate, the supergroup’s brand of tuneful melancholy remains intact.

Sexistential is urgent, direct, and strikingly concise.

Many of the songs here are structured around pull and restraint, mostly drifting in a calm haze before surprising you with sudden bursts of energy. The quieter moments, like on “The Woodland Has Returned,” feel more impactful than their twitchy, spastic excursions.

The sparkling closer “Reverie” and the excellent “Butterfly” deserve special mention, but honestly, side B is uniformly strong. The tragedy of Ricochet is that it follows such a feeble side A.

Of This Earth, like most Shabaka Hutchings albums, dating back to Sons of Kemet, requires full immersion. On his third LP, the jazz polymath takes you on a musical journey that requires both stillness and stimulation.

We Are Together Again aims to repeat the trick [2025's The Purple Bird], with its earnest country twang and cast of familiar collaborators, but ultimately it lives and dies by the quality of its songs—and they just aren’t consistently good enough.

There is no sense of fatigue here. Alongside Sebb Bash, ELUCID sounds reinvigorated on what is essentially a more traditional Hip Hop record than Revelator—and, if I’m honest, a better one.

It might be facile to attribute the highs of IT’S THE LONG GOODBYE to Graham’s backstory, but he and his bandmates tap into something special, earnest, and powerful.

Varied yet elegantly stitched together, Hard Hearted Woman shows the many sides of Cogan, whose story is as resilient as the subjects she depicts.

While Transmitter doesn’t sound like a late ’60s artefact, it still sounds like Clarke—a refresh rather than a revolution, and a perfectly satisfying one at that.

Mackenzie-Barrow is clearly a talented songwriter and, taken individually, most of the material here is engaging. Taken sequentially, however, his sparse compositions blur together, emphasising his vocal limitations and rendering Book of Churches a somewhat dour affair.

Their easy-to-digest, familiar sounds will inevitably go down well, but are unlikely to linger in the memory long enough to trouble the headliner. Remember Sports have learned their craft, but they are yet to truly master it.

Their burst of creativity comes to life in a lively tapestry of moods, both musically and thematically, but they make sure to balance the fun with genuine sincerity.

While Swet Death’s strongest moments come when Bachmann is front and centre, doing his thing, there is little here to rival his best work.

The tracks evoke comparisons to artists like David Gray (“Pretty Flowers”) and Josh Ritter (“Heart In The Mirror”), which may provide a side glance or two but perfectly complement his high-pitched twang. Regardless, Meek brings his own flair to whatever he makes.

These tracks resonate through lovely pop music, the core that ties together these songs, but there’s plenty of stylistic range—disco, jangle, chamber pop, Brill Building—to both chew on and delight in.

EXPO never sounds fragmented. .... But at the core of the album’s sequencing lies a sense of formalism that, while surely freeing for a band with a penchant for taking risks, loses some emotional impact.

My Days Of 58 is an unassuming delight and a further feather in the cap of one of most enduring songwriters of his generation.

That Nothing’s About to Happen to Me feels both self-contained and expansive speaks to how Mitski moves to her own rhythm.

Given A Short History of Decay’s variety, intensity, and sense of daring, allied to its strong songwriting, I suspect it will become a valuable reference for students of modern shoegaze long after its current wave has passed.

DISCOMBOBULATED is an idiosyncratic record, overflowing with eccentric charms and a uniquely British (in the best sense of the word) personality.

Wuthering Heights is a competent, glossy synth-pop work, with a handful of soaring highs that are offset by a couple of duds.

Cardinals’ refreshing and impressive debut album sounds raw and imperfect, striking a cheerful yet dark ambiance that embraces gothic romanticism within a distinctly Irish-sounding folk punk sound.

At its best, Laughter In Summer is deeply affecting and genuinely beautiful. At its least compelling (“Children’s Anthem,” “Harbour”), it remains enjoyably wholesome, but falls well short of his finest work, where Glenn-Copeland’s simple lyrical sentiments were adorned with more engaging layers and textures. Still, it feels unreasonable to grumble.

Ratboys have always sounded like an indie rock band comfortably integrating country elements alongside their core sound. On Singin’ To An Empty Chair they sound a little too comfortable at times.

An intense, serious record. Call it what you want, but in the hands of Mandy, Indiana words like ‘genre’ and ‘style’ feel utterly redundant.

As it stands, Sunlight Echoes is a solid entry in the shoegaze canon, but its innate politeness prevents it from truly standing out in a packed field.

Selecting highlights feels like a fool’s errand. Ballgame’s ballads (“You’re Not My Baby Tonight,” “Goodbye My Love”) soar gracefully. .... The higher-tempo numbers are equally effective.

Feels more like a steady progression than a revolutionary rebrand, with the accomplished songwriting impressing more than any sonic wizardry.

I find myself increasingly drawn to both instrumental works and music that rewards patience and active listening. Sidings is a bleak delight.

Listening to their accomplished new EP, So Much Country ‘Till We Get There, I’m reminded of both Big Thief’s earlier work and Friko’s wonderful Where We've Been, Where We Go from Here.

If there’s something that holds back the album from even greater heights, it is its overly familiar ambiance, which at times resembles the sweeping film scores typically associated with indie country-western dramas. But that doesn’t in any way diminish Horn’s songwriting, filtered through a warm and pensive haze, which becomes more distinct as her career progresses.

There’s a quietly accomplished record waiting to be discovered by those who are prepared to approach with patience.

Their quiet, understated charms reward the kind of focused listening that is seemingly less fashionable in this screen-addled age. III might not lend itself to modern playlist culture, but if you’re looking for a 2026 release to truly invest in, its exquisite beauty will reward your time and efforts many times over.

There’s plenty to dissect throughout Secret Love, whether it’s through stumbling onto its non-sequitur zingers or consciously untangling its deeper concepts. There’s no wrong way to approach it; it really works both ways.

Balloon Balloon Balloon is not Slater’s best album of 2025—it’s probably not even his second best—but any record that evokes the snotty power pop of Guitar Romantic is worth investigating in my book.

Not everything works in Love Chant. He tries to sound self-serious with his stream-of-consciousness rambling on “Marauders,” but instead, comes across as artfully silly. Still, it’s just one of the many fun detours that Dando takes throughout the album, one whose existence—given his history of substance dependency—feels like a small miracle in itself.

The final three songs aren’t quite as engaging, but it’s clear that Sorry have done enough to ensure Cosplay is worth revisiting—even if a few judicious clicks on the skip button will be necessary.

Maybe it’s not the showiest of returns, but instead, she proves that the toughest battles are the ones that happen inside us.

It is intelligent, thrilling, unique, and endlessly replayable—challenging, yes, but always worth the effort. .... This is her Hounds of Love, her Brat. Yes, it’s that good.

A majestic record of solemn beauty. Not only does Night CRIÚ sound unlike anything else in 2025, it also stands proudly alongside the year’s very best work.

Like so many posthumous releases, Infinite is a tricky record to critique. It’s not Mobb Deep’s strongest record, but given the circumstances, it is a triumph—and a fitting testament to their legacy.

Giddy and tuneful, the band feels more at ease as a tried-and-true guitar pop band, reminiscent of how a band like Los Campesinos! captured the hearts of many an indie rock fan.

Rocket shows far more sophisticated rhythmic interplay than some of their shoegaze-leaning contemporaries on this debut.

While the remaining members, a power trio now, haven’t lost any of their edge, they’re channeling it with renewed energy.

While Nestled in Tangles requires utmost attention to recognize their impact as a whole, it mainly inspires one to absorb its cleansing qualities if you look closely enough.

Whether Bleeds marks the end of a nice run or the beginning of a legendary one remains to be seen, but for now, let’s just enjoy one of the stand-out releases of 2025.

There are hints of Shame’s continuous evolution as songwriters. Take the muted, jagged menace lurking behind the austere “Packshot,” which builds into a powerful, guitar-driven crescendo. But for the most part, Cutthroat struggles at balancing that very fine line between accessibility and experimentation.

While his narratives can leave a lot to chew on, Freeman is at his very best when his ragged, guitar-drenched intensity sounds deceivingly loose. He does try to balance the mood more in the exploratory second half, but he's earned that decision after the first half's tight, generous songwriting

THE FILM is a showcase of intensity: SUMAC ably matches that of Irreversible Entanglements via alternate delivery, while Ayewa’s passion and spoken outbursts meet Aaron Turner’s guttural howl. Looking at the essence of both entities and their respective creative signatures, it’s somehow both remarkable and obvious how natural each of them sound together on this LP.

The trio compels you to return to it again and again on Ripped & Torn—it's just that catchy—all while paving the way for the next generation of curious teens who have uncles with cool record collections.

The diminished presence of Michael (he does contribute here, but is more of a background figure) leads to a slight loss of variety, but it's hardly a deal-breaker. If you like The Lemon Twigs you will find plenty to enjoy here.

Outside of some slight bloat that nears The Lumineers' territory, the bulk of the album is far too open and compassionate to ignore.

Not everything works here and I found my attention wandering at times. But it is bursting with promise and MIKE's arrival feels both imminent and inevitable.

One can't help but admire Booker's big swings, and when they are this compelling, everything else becomes a moot point.

Minus openly captures the messy beauty of growth in real time in DÍA. And while she sometimes structures these songs a tad oblique, having rewritten some for three years straight, Minus understands that it's better to ease, rather than scrutinize, every aspect of the songwriting process. But never, ever should it be an afterthought.

Filled with frisky self-confidence, Falcon Bitch and Shmoofy—note the absurd names—bolt through sixteen terse, inventive tracks as they dryly switch and harmonize vocals.

It might not be new and it might not follow the current trends, but this is a rare document of heartbreak and hope with the power to move you to tears and make you smile, sometimes at the same time. It deserves any accolades it will receive and many, many more.

While listening to Disaster Trick, there is a sense that Giannopoulos intentionally distances himself, lingering in his thoughts. Given the traces of emotion he lays out throughout, they curiously let us in in mysterious ways. Credit also goes to the less measured and more textural production, which, unintentionally, allows the songs to become more alluring and inviting.

Johnson and his bandmates shake off their anguish with sweeping, lighthearted melodies that, instead of weighing you down, lift you up.

It might be the best example of her genre experimentation to date. .... I don’t know if any song or album could possibly encompass the entire experience of life, but St. Vincent’s made a pretty damn great effort.

While Aghori Mhori Mei doesn't reach the same highs as some of their defining albums, it does show the original trio of Corgan, Iha, and Chamberlain forging a newfound musical identity in lockstep.

Matching thoughtful lyricism with heightened arrangements, they're building on what they've learned, and all their efforts are clicking at the right time.

The retro-soul resurgence of the 21st Century has seen a number of artists whose names have become bywords for quality: Sharon Jones, Eli "Paperboy" Reed, Lee Fields. With Into the Blue, Aaron Frazer has demonstrated he deserves to be held in the same esteem.

When they let loose, like on the more intricate Bell Wheel, Darcy reminds us why he's such a compelling vocalist when he shows a more playful side. While they have their songwriting down to a science, Cola could elevate their craft with a little more disruption.

BRAT showcases every facet of Charli XCX. She’s a club diva, she’s a pop girlie, she’s a partner, she’s a friend, she’s a daughter, she’s a woman trying to navigate her 30s and she’s a person who’s still mourning the death of someone very close to her. On the evidence of BRAT, it’s also justified to say that, right now, she’s the greatest pop star in the world.

Nearly everything about Audio Vertigo works, offering one of Elbow’s most consistently great entries in their catalog. It’s the type of album that has an easygoing, buoyant vibe and rewards dedicated, repeated listens.

The Mission sets the album in motion, Chasny’s voice angelic and kind of woeful as his opening stanzas are sung. He rarely strays from beautifully knotted acoustic strings, songs like the instrumental Pilar and My Familiar (which features my favorite vocal melody in the album) lush and memorable, the latter enhanced by some chunky strums of electric guitar.

There's a playfulness to their genre-hopping tact, with Moffat fitting his often-loose prose to warped club beats (Bliss), folk twang (Molehills), and 80s-inspired soft-rock (You're Not There). Album opener Allatonceness is their best case yet for repping their label Rock Action, owned by post-rock pioneers Mogwai, bearing a beefed-up muscular riff that expands their sound with emotional force.

While it’s clear from the off that COWBOY CARTER isn’t like any other Beyoncé record, it still very much is a Beyoncé album. And, despite country’s present-day popularity, it’s still a risky album which, if attempted by practically anyone else, could come across as desperate.

From the moment it starts to its very last note, Final Summer comes rich with gargantuan hooks that make you feel alive. His more hopeful outlook might have inspired this creative renaissance, but Baldi unintentionally emphasizes the simple pleasures of a rock song with an earnestness that shadows his complex songcraft.

Maybe it's less intimate and personal than his past releases, but Revelator sure goes down easy when it's most needed.

While her choices are clearly articulated, one can't help but feel like she's easing into a comforting cadence that will ultimately lead to her next definitive statement.

Their most accomplished statement thus far. Expanding far beyond their hardcore roots, Mannequin Pussy delivers shimmering alternative rock with more precision and less abandon.

One of the best debuts of the year.

It's not quite at the level of Without a Sound, Mascis' definitive pop moment, but What Do We Do Now is the closest he's been to showing his more tender side in years.

The duo balances every big statement with genuinely warmhearted moments. The piano-driven Until I'm With You Again is a good example, which serves as a preamble to the galloping sing-a-long anthem Get Numb to It! Is it precious? Sure is, but does it matter when they have full command of their craft?

If Thirstier was a declaration of love from the rooftops, What an Enormous Room is the relief of a serene evening in her partner’s arms.

Clocking in at a brisk 28 minutes, Harm's Way unfolds with not a minute wasted, similar to Weezer's Green Album. And while they couldn't be more far apart in tone and ambition, they're comparable in how they progress with limited dynamic range and a generous amount of hooks.

Fairweather Friend is a great record, a genre standout deserving of adoration and acclaim beyond the niche of specialist blogs and, let’s be honest, the No Ripcords of the world. Great songs are still great songs in 2024. If you like those, you’ll love The Umbrellas.

While Wall of Eyes captures the trio at their most musically freewheeling, it also loses the ordered potency of A Light for Attracting Attention. Yorke himself has also reverted to themes of self-identity more cryptically, making less of an impact compared to his sardonic candor identifying with the everyday anxieties of living in the outside world's structured chaos. Still, it's clear that The Smile operates on their own accord.

He rarely reveals much of his true intent throughout, relying upon platitudes that, while truthful, make Hadsel sound a little thin in places. But Condon knows his audience well, resorting to a heavily cinematic atmosphere that will have his listeners contemplating their own aspirations rather than focusing on his. Just like he intended to do.

It's the murkier-in-tone moments that stand out: while The Price Was High emerges with spellbinding dissonance and keeps the tension throughout, A Hitch surrounds its ringing hook with rippling guitar work. Tarantula is poised to become a staple on their future setlists alongside past singles like Winona, on which the band turns up the tempo with a driving melodic groove that satisfyingly fades as soon as it hits.