Honest, in-depth album reviews by KLOF Mag – championing and curating intelligent, uncompromising voices in contemporary and experimental music since 2004.
Albums
On “Reunion”, Mama’s Broke’s third album, Amy Lou Keeler and Lisa Maria touch the darkest aspects of human life with openness and admirable musical originality. The Nova Scotia duo weave Appalachian and Eastern European traditions into songs that touch on economic inequality, violence against women, and stunningly beautiful, lyrically enigmatic ballads in the spirit of Time (The Revelator)-era Gillian Welch. They find something worth saving in the dark.
Prairiewolf’s “Zone Poems” blurs the line between studio recording and live album, its material cherry-picked from 2025 sets in Crestone and Denver, then layered, manipulated and rearranged. Each decision is discerning, the sound never overcrowded. Previously made recordings have been examined, forensically operated on and crafted into a precise, clean set of songs that captures a trio’s energy.
The Powers Ensemble share the mutant DNA of Will Oldham, “Astral Weeks” and Robbie Basho, and there’s a freshness to “Kindling” which is disarming but also makes your blood sing with recognition. Each song captures a communal rush of discovery — messy ecstasy achieved with flair and concision.
Creekbed Carter Hogan’s “Peasants Revolt” acknowledges the possibility of an imminent apocalypse but is steeped in medieval uprisings, the Haitian Revolution, twenty-first-century trans activism and Americana. The songs are exuberant in their difference, and it’s the sudden shifts to or from the personal that make it such a unique album. A detailed American pastoral, beautiful and powerful.
Kevin Coleman’s “K.C. Blues” is happy to sweep through styles and moods, bringing in experimental folk, Americana and blues over six tracks and forty minutes. Made in bedrooms and basements, it is looser and more open-ended than “Imaginary Conversations”, each musician seamlessly contributing to a coherent sound. An exciting, impressive album that rewards deep listening.
Samuel Blaney created “Island Rains” in moonlit reverie on the west coast of Ireland, with Adem Ilhan and Neil MacColl colouring the songs without ever overwhelming them. You can hear the influence of a life pared back to essentials, and a tangible sense of how tending something small becomes a way of steadying yourself against the wider world.
Nick Granata’s debut solo album, “My Heart is Running Backwards! A Martial Artist! With a Closed Fist! Woof!”, is an ambitious album of astonishing breadth and endless personality. A member of the Shovel Dance Collective, Granata largely plays down the wackiness of that title in favour of genuine sonic experimentation and a joyously queer heart.
Josaleigh Pollett’s fourth full-length album, “If I Let It Quiet”, is an absolute treasure trove of textural, dynamic and living electronic pop music, born out of a cross-continent collaboration with producer Jordan Watko. A whirlwind affair of vast sonic experiences, some out in full view, some hidden beneath the surface — a glowing, sparking dreamworld that beckons repeated listening.
Cinder Well’s “A Blooming Body” is the closest we’ve been to witnessing Amelia Baker’s unique vision in full — her first time handling the processes behind making an album, and the greater creative control shows. Her talents have never been in doubt, but here they are more evident and more varied than ever: raw, richly detailed, full of hidden musical depths.
On “Home Fires Burning”, his most Scottish album to date, Adam Beattie digs deep into his own family history, exploring family, legacy and belonging. An album of home, hopes and dreams, with the message that “for all the things that break and bend, love will last until the end”.
Inviting a sense of ultimate calm, Luluc’s “Sweet Thief” is a gorgeous, contemplative exercise in quiet isolation and self-reflection. Randell’s vocals mirror those of the calmest stream, barely creating a splash, with J Mascis adding percussion. Ten songs that embody a lighthouse in a storm, a point of connection anybody can relate to.
Sailing Stones’ “Slow Magic” is one of the most satisfyingly complete collections of songs I have heard this year. Built around matrescence, the transitions a woman goes through at the time of bringing new life into the world, the whole record plays like a kaleidoscopic whirligig, shimmering in and out of focus, crafted with a crackly analogue, hands-on human touch. Her best album yet.
