Albums

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.

“low clouds hang, this land is on fire” is such a beguiling album; the music is gentle and beautiful in places, yet you know there are turbulent emotions beneath the surface. Only an artist with perfect control of their medium could bring so much meaning into and invite so much interpretation from solo guitar music. This is spellbinding and significant; Tashi Dorji operating at the highest level.

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.

Under his “Mind Over Mirrors” moniker, Jaime Fennelly returns to a solo setup on Particles, Peds & Pores, a meditative departure from his previous ensemble works. Blending harmonium with pulsating electronics, the album evokes organic, pastoral landscapes reminiscent of Craven Faults. From the ecclesiastical drones of the “Blank Vessels” trilogy to the sci-fi urgency of “Sulphur Firedots,” Fennelly delivers a deeply satisfying, patient, and immersive sonic journey.

Fueled by a traumatic breakup and the fragility of new beginnings, Valentine is Courtney Marie Andrews’ most vulnerable and sonically adventurous work to date. Drawing on influences like Tusk and Big Star, the album navigates emotional extremes through lush instrumentation and “nakedly exposed” vocals. It is a powerful reclamation of self-worth that uses music to transform dark-night-of-the-soul pain into transcendent art.

Fiona Lucia’s Phoenix Waltz is a strikingly intimate debut, blending folk, soul, and jazz with the adroit orchestration of Bjork or ANOHNI. Her voice—reminiscent of Billie Holiday’s restraint and Aretha’s punch—navigates themes of trauma and transcendence. From D’Angelo-esque harmonies to soaring, self-recorded strings, this is a heart-wrenching, hypnotic journey that pulses between quiet yearning and powerful, analogue soul.

John Blek’s tenth album, The Midnight Ache, is a sublime, lo-fi journey into vulnerability. The record balances melancholic “insomniac hours” with a hopeful move toward the light. Featuring lush strings and dreamlike arrangements, it’s a beautifully crafted transition from past shadows into a brighter, more domestic musical landscape.

Patience and elegance define Laura Baird’s “Under Blue,” a poignant exploration of loss and grief following her father’s passing. Utilising banjo, woodwind and his classical guitar, Baird crafts a minimal, deliberate soundscape that entwines with her serene vocals. It is a masterclass in restraint—a stripped-back, beautiful celebration of life that balances the innocence of nature with the inevitability of loss.

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.   

Many Hands’ There are Moss Balls in Paradise is a decidedly earthy take on ambient music, rough at the edges and hauntingly human. Triggered by a child’s grief over a dead fish, Henderson’s restless, freewheeling vision treads the line between tranquillity and uncanny depth. It is a watery ode to humanity and our fragile relationship with the natural world.