Albums

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.

On “Pt. Roadknight”, Leah Senior leans into the hazy fog of late-sixties, early-seventies folk rock, recorded with a natural analogue texture that lends these songs a human touch. It turns its inward gaze outward, offering her reflections with a clarity of purpose. As she reminds us in ‘Talk To Me,’ there is a fine line between focus and withdrawal, and this album walks it with rare grace.

“Dream Me a Dream” was Tucker Zimmerman’s final recording, and while his MO was dusty, lo-fi outsider folk, his range was much bigger than those labels imply. This is an album that opens out at every turn. What shines most brightly is Zimmerman’s generosity of spirit — a fitting tribute to this most unconventional and quietly gifted of songwriters.

Recorded live at Bear Creek Studios with no click tracks and minimal overdubs, “The Landfill” finds Fruit Bats in full flight and a songwriter discovering how immediacy translates when the whole room is burning bright. It underlines the prominent place held by Fruit Bats in the canon of modern, rootsy American songwriting.

SILKess Demon’s “Life is Art, Art is Life” marks a departure into the folk-horror briar — visions of Britain’s native music suffused with dread and obscure ritual. One of the quiet victories of self-released, self-recorded, neurotic, folk-inflected artistry that helps make Britain bearable again.

Félicia Atkinson’s “Sans Visage” reimagines the score to Georges Franju’s 1960 horror “Les Yeux Sans Visage” — a perfect assignment for a master of creepy-beautiful soundscapes. Built around piano and studio electronics and dedicated to Gisèle Pelicot, it’s a perfect example of how experimental music can bridge the gaps presented by time, genre and gender… Its spectral beauty is lingering and at times uncomfortable, but never less than enthralling.