Precipice is that rare album that brings together vulnerability, self-reflection, and the trademarks of a mainstream milestone: super earworms, coolly cosmopolitan sonics, and a voice that grows more compelling with each track. Precipice is De Souza’s “arrival” album and a singular addition to the contemporary pop canon.

Veronica Electronica may not add much to the already excellent era it comes from, but it certainly acts as a reminder to give the original another spin.

This record is Jade Bird’s strongest to date, an expansion of her sonic influences and an intimate depiction of the aftermath of a breakup and the trials and tribulations that come with that.

DON'T TAP emphasises that, really, he’s simply multifaceted. We all have radically different sides to who we are, and Tyler’s committed to expressing as much of himself as possible, from the cliché to the novel, the ugly to the beautiful, the cold-blooded to the empathetic.

The songs are proficiently penned, though often devoid of the juggernaut hooks that elevated previous outings, particularly the exhilarating House of Sugar and stunning God Save the Animals. Additionally, the production MO tilts toward the conservative – well-sanded and well-stirred instrumentation.

Black Noise dissolves existing genres and gives you a taste of what may lie beyond the system he’s fighting against.

Period sounds like a record trying its best to be happy – the striking highs of something like “Praying” are nowhere to be found on this allegedly unrestrained album.

Even if a few rougher edges wouldn’t go amiss, the results prove resonant, occasionally reminiscent of the similarly genre-blending mash-up of black music styles exemplified by Sault.

Teeming with overt-love metaphors, insatiable lust and uncaring attitudes, Wet Leg walked so Moisturizer could run, and boy, did she run.

Songs that feel tantalisingly and really quite brilliantly caught between the factual lived reality and some sort of a distorted imaginary twist of it: is the latter song about the literal devil, or a more mundane personification of a devil fond of lies, empty promises and manipulation? Who knows, and it’s in these tantalising grey areas that Utopia really shines.

Lorde’s tasteful embrace of fluidity in expression and refusal to slide into any conclusive assumption is Virgin’s most compelling strength. Even if the music’s painfully minimalistic and uneventful, her voice is a hurricane with guttural words as its generous source of energy.

Perhaps their least remarkable record, from its messaging which has grown increasingly unrelatable outside of religious contexts, and a collection of instrumentals which are another iteration of a sound previously travelled on more groundbreaking records. But don’t forget, they’re still firmly within zeitgeist territory.

Idols fails to expand on the promise of its grand opening statement, instead resulting in a heavily flawed fourth outing, overly reliant on the use of tired rock caricatures and repetitive song structures.

In short, afraid may demand a bit more from the consumer, in terms of mindful listening, but variety and range (and intensity) are indeed present, even if more understatedly.

If there’s a critique, it’d be on density, the album feels super compressed with a hectoring pressure that barely lets up despite some smart sequencing choices chopping up the pacing as well as it can to ride the turbulence. More moments of atmospheric space could have given the emotional catharsis room to breathe.

It would be wrong to view hopefully ! as a step back into Carner’s comfort zone based on a surface assessment. The live band used throughout the record gives hopefully ! a relaxed and blissful undertone, enriching the feeling of sunbathing or watching a sunset that Carner’s repeated mentions of the sun craft in the listener’s head. Vocally, the rapper pushes his boundaries more than perhaps ever before.

The record’s strongest moments originate in its audacity rather than precision: Desert Window opens up the ambient ideas she’s perfected in the past into riskier, roomier territory.

The presence of a full band in the studio and the proverbial writer’s room gives Raspberry Moon the dynamic presence previous records swapped for a consistent, syrupy atmosphere. While plenty of radiated sunbeam ragers populate the tracklist, acoustic ballads and delicacy are the real calling cards of this album.

I quit shows that HAIM will always make good music, and while this record doesn’t radically shift the formula, it reinforces their strengths: thoughtful songwriting, tight production, and seamless cohesion as a trio.

There is considerable range here, yet there is also so much nuance on what is a challenging and simultaneously rewarding record.

Crying the Neck finds him getting into his stride again. If he reins in his excesses, he may be in full flight on its follow-up.

Talkin’ To The Trees is no major return to form: there is too much letting go of unfinished things on view here for that. However, in its commitment to keeping things simple and looking inwards for inspiration, it resembles 2000’s underrated Silver & Gold, which alongside Toast (recorded in 2001 but not released until 2022) featured the last evidence of Young’s 1990s creative comeback: not a bad result for a 2025 model Neil Young album.

Its highs are higher, its lows are non-existent, and it has the government mandated Obongjayar feature, or it wouldn’t be a Simz project.

Why does “High Fashion”’s bassline sound so intoxicating and disjointed? Why does “Headphones On” possess trip-hop stems that are strangely symbolic of the destructive gallows? These interludes, if executed better, might’ve fulfilled and encouraged the listeners’ curiosity such as mine over Rae’s intriguing soundscapes.

If NEVER ENOUGH proves one thing, it's that Turnstile has a bright blue horizon ahead of them. The sky is the limit now.

Throughout this record, a steady vocal belies a complex layering of acoustic and electronic sounds. So many of these selected covers deconstruct into quirky, experimental instrumentals.

From the very outset, they exceed expectations, such is the quality and compositional depth of the material here.

I Got Too Sad For My Friends doesn’t deliver much versatility. Each track rolls into the next, and while that is alike to the depression Denton dissects in the record, it doesn’t make for varied listening.