Thomas Blake

The Wave Pictures fashion their touchstones into new shapes: rapid-fire surf-pop, sleazy garage blues, tender slow-burners full of weeping guitars. Tattersall’s playing remains immediately distinctive, incorporating desert rock and spiky proto-punk, sometimes sounding like both Television guitarists at once. From Proustian throbs of memory to blazing solos, “Gained/Lost” is accessible, varied, and endlessly rewarding—another bright star in their constellation.

My Days of 58 finds Bill Callahan embracing uncertainty — and it has made his songs wiser than ever. They are also funnier, sadder, deeper. Live energy, partly improvised performances, a spirit of collaboration: these are the things that make Callahan tick. Over three and a half decades into his career, he is still capable of adding more strings to his bow.

Almost Proustian in its relationship with memory, Proof Enough goes beyond mere nostalgic effect. Michael Cormier-O’Leary became a father while recording these six songs, and his writing is full of hopes and fears alongside the quiet determination to live well. He has become an exceptional songwriter, alchemising human concerns into low-key poetry and backing it with a nuanced, delightfully off-kilter grasp of song dynamics.

Buck Meek’s The Mirror is the work of a true American outsider, one who understands that creativity is always a collaboration and a lineage. Whether channelling dusty Texan country or something stranger and more introverted, Meek — aided by Big Thief bandmate James Krivchenia’s light-touch production — stretches these songs into unusual shapes without ever losing sight of their warm, beating hearts.

Very few come sprinkled with the kind of magic dust that coats the new album by Georgia Shackleton. A sense of history seeps into every corner of the recording. These songs are timeless and wise, bright and intricate, shot through with polar light and the glint of the sea. “From the Floorboards” is an album with a story behind it, and that story is worth telling.

Hen Ogledd’s third album, DISCOMBOBULATED, is fresh, weird, pranksterish, passionate and downright uncategorisable as we have come to expect. Their blend of freaky electronic folk-rock, politically charged psych-pop and modernist compositional techniques is elusive, bewildering and brilliant—music that seems to invent new colours. Admirably anti-bigotry, anti-corporate, anti-corruption. Their most consistent, relevant and boundary-pushing record yet.

Pefkin (Gayle Brogan) understands the fluidity and adaptability of ambient music better than most. Unfurling ranks among her most beautiful work, showcasing an exceptional understanding of timing, contrast, and texture. Its many drifts and folds are expertly curated, balanced perfectly between atavism and modernity. Though the component pieces are minimal, they are layered so subtly that they create complex musical tapestries.

From street-busking in Carlow to collaborating with Boygenius, Ye Vagabonds’ journey culminates in ‘All Tied Together.’ Releasing January 30, their fourth album swaps traditional covers for deeply personal original songwriting. Produced by Phil Weinrobe, it’s a masterful blend of earthy folk and experimental textures—shimmering synths and soaring strings—capturing the grit of their past and the warmth of home.

Lande Hekt’s Lucky Now marks a sophisticated evolution for twee pop. Blending the political optimism of Amelia Fletcher with the introspection of Sarah Records, Hekt expands the genre’s boundaries using 90s alt-rock grit and sparkling production. From the jangly title track to the sharp social commentary of “Circular,” these three-minute gems establish Hekt as a highly individual, accomplished artist.

With The Fallen By Watch Bird, Jane Weaver found a definitive and singular voice, sloughing off psych-pop signifiers for trancey, kraut-inspired rhythms and expansive synth flights. This expanded reissue, with ‘The Watchbird Alluminate’ (featuring various guests), confirms her lavish vision, blending folkloric dreaminess with motorik rhythms. It remains a crucial album in her oeuvre, proving Weaver was a progenitor of hauntology and freak folk whose formative work still stands up.

Jana Horn’s music creeps up on you; she occupies an in-between world where she works with such restraint and such a keen ear for the space at the centre of a song that it renders genre practically meaningless. She has the gift for breathing life and lived experience into her words, and this muted, wandering album is her best yet.   

Julianna Barwick and Mary Lattimore’s long-awaited collaboration, Tragic Magic, is a radiant masterpiece of experimental beauty. Utilising antique harps and vintage synths at the Philharmonie de Paris, the duo transcends “new age” tropes with dexterous, modernist compositions. From the futuristic sweep of “Stardust” to the poignant solace of “Melted Moon,” it is a confident, immersive album that lingers in the memory long after its last notes fade.