Double J's 50 Best Albums of 2022

King Stingray’s debut album sees the Australian quintet celebrate the country in all its forms. That’s clear in both the opening valentine “Sweet Arnhem Land” and the more wary “Camp Dog,” inspired by canines patrolling the band’s hometown of Yirrkala. Even more prominent is “Let’s Go,” which recounts the sense of escape granted by hitting the Central Arnhem Highway. Singing in both English and Yolŋu Matha languages, Gumatj man Yirrŋa Yunupiŋu leads the band through surf-influenced rock anthems honoring First Nations culture at every turn. Psychedelic guitar licks are just as prevalent as yidaki (didgeridoo) passages, while wooden clapsticks flank memorable basslines. Yunupiŋu and lead guitarist Roy Kellaway both grew up with family members playing in the innovative ’80s and ’90s ensemble Yothu Yindi, who seamlessly blended a contemporary rock and reggae sound with ancient songlines. A similar balance is very much in place for King Stingray, as is the marriage of social conscience and accessible themes found in classic Midnight Oil. The band’s 2020 debut single, “Hey Wanhaka” (included here), saw Yunupiŋu declare, “I stay true to my roots,” and this album generously shares that pride of place with the world at large.

Unique, strong, and sexy—that’s how Beyoncé wants you to feel while listening to *RENAISSANCE*. Crafted during the grips of the pandemic, her seventh solo album is a celebration of freedom and a complete immersion into house and dance that serves as the perfect sound bed for themes of liberation, release, self-assuredness, and unfiltered confidence across its 16 tracks. *RENAISSANCE* is playful and energetic in a way that captures that Friday-night, just-got-paid, anything-can-happen feeling, underscored by reiterated appeals to unyoke yourself from the weight of others’ expectations and revel in the totality of who you are. From the classic four-on-the-floor house moods of the Robin S.- and Big Freedia-sampling lead single “BREAK MY SOUL” to the Afro-tech of the Grace Jones- and Tems-assisted “MOVE” and the funky, rollerskating disco feeling of “CUFF IT,” this is a massive yet elegantly composed buffet of sound, richly packed with anthemic morsels that pull you in. There are soft moments here, too: “I know you can’t help but to be yourself around me,” she coos on “PLASTIC OFF THE SOFA,” the kind of warm, whispers-in-the-ear love song you’d expect to hear at a summer cookout—complete with an intricate interplay between vocals and guitar that gives Beyoncé a chance to showcase some incredible vocal dexterity. “CHURCH GIRL” fuses R&B, gospel, and hip-hop to tell a survivor’s story: “I\'m finally on the other side/I finally found the extra smiles/Swimming through the oceans of tears we cried.” An explicit celebration of Blackness, “COZY” is the mantra of a woman who has nothing to prove to anyone—“Comfortable in my skin/Cozy with who I am,” ” Beyoncé muses on the chorus. And on “PURE/HONEY,” Beyoncé immerses herself in ballroom culture, incorporating drag performance chants and a Kevin Aviance sample on the first half that give way to the disco-drenched second half, cementing the song as an immediate dance-floor favorite. It’s the perfect lead-in to the album closer “SUMMER RENAISSANCE,” which propels the dreamy escapist disco of Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love” even further into the future.

When Kendrick Lamar popped up on two tracks from Baby Keem’s *The Melodic Blue* (“range brothers” and “family ties”), it felt like one of hip-hop’s prophets had descended a mountain to deliver scripture. His verses were stellar, to be sure, but it also just felt like way too much time had passed since we’d heard his voice. He’d helmed 2018’s *Black Panther* compilation/soundtrack, but his last proper release was 2017’s *DAMN.* That kind of scarcity in hip-hop can only serve to deify an artist as beloved as Lamar. But if the Compton MC is broadcasting anything across his fifth proper album *Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers*, it’s that he’s only human. The project is split into two parts, each comprising nine songs, all of which serve to illuminate Lamar’s continually evolving worldview. Central to Lamar’s thesis is accountability. The MC has painstakingly itemized his shortcomings, assessing his relationships with money (“United in Grief”), white women (“Worldwide Steppers”), his father (“Father Time”), the limits of his loyalty (“Rich Spirit”), love in the context of heteronormative relationships (“We Cry Together,” “Purple Hearts”), motivation (“Count Me Out”), responsibility (“Crown”), gender (“Auntie Diaries”), and generational trauma (“Mother I Sober”). It’s a dense and heavy listen. But just as sure as Kendrick Lamar is human like the rest of us, he’s also a Pulitzer Prize winner, one of the most thoughtful MCs alive, and someone whose honesty across *Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers* could help us understand why any of us are the way we are.

Like its title suggests, *Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You* continues Big Thief’s shift away from their tense, early music toward something folkier and more cosmically inviting. They’ve always had an interest in Americana, but their touchpoints are warmer now: A sweetly sawing fiddle (“Spud Infinity”), a front-porch lullaby (“Dried Roses”), the wonder of a walk in the woods (“Promise Is a Pendulum”) or comfort of a kitchen where the radio’s on and food sizzles in the pan (“Red Moon”). Adrianne Lenker’s voice still conveys a natural reticence—she doesn’t want to believe it’s all as beautiful as it is—but she’s also too earnest to deny beauty when she sees it.

Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You is a sprawling double-LP exploring the deepest elements and possibilities of Big Thief. To truly dig into all that the music of Adrianne Lenker, Max Oleartchik, Buck Meek, and James Krivchenia desired in 2020, the band decided to write and record a rambling account of growth as individuals, musicians, and chosen family over 4 distinct recording sessions. In Upstate New York, Topanga Canyon, The Rocky Mountains, and Tucson, Arizona, Big Thief spent 5 months in creation and came out with 45 completed songs. The most resonant of this material was edited down into the 20 tracks that make up DNWMIBIY, a fluid and adventurous listen. The album was produced by drummer James Krivchenia who initially pitched the recording concept for DNWMIBIY back in late 2019 with the goal of encapsulating the many different aspects of Adrianne’s songwriting and the band onto a single record. In an attempt to ease back into life as Big Thief after a long stretch of Covid-19 related isolation, the band met up for their first session in the woods of upstate New York. They started the process at Sam Evian’s Flying Cloud Recordings, recording on an 8-track tape machine with Evian at the knobs. It took a while for the band to realign and for the first week of working in the studio, nothing felt right. After a few un-inspired takes the band decided to take an ice-cold dip in the creek behind the house before running back to record in wet swimsuits. That cool water blessing stayed with Big Thief through the rest of the summer and many more intuitive, recording rituals followed. It was here that the band procured ‘Certainty’ and ‘Sparrow’. For the next session in Topanga Canyon, California, the band intended to explore their bombastic desires and lay down some sonic revelry in the experimental soundscape-friendly hands of engineer Shawn Everett. Several of the songs from this session lyrically explore the areas of Lenker’s thought process that she describes as “unabashedly as psychedelic as I naturally think,” including ‘Little Things’, which came out of this session. The prepared acoustic guitars and huge stomp beat of today’s ‘Time Escaping’ create a matching, otherworldly backdrop for the subconscious dream of timeless, infinite mystery. When her puppy Oso ran into the vocal booth during the final take of the song, Adrianne looked down and spoke “It’s Music!” to explain in the best terms possible the reality of what was going on to the confused dog. “It’s Music Oso!” The third session, high in the Colorado Rockies, was set up to be a more traditional Big Thief recording experience, working with UFOF and Two Hands engineer Dom Monks. Monks' attentiveness to song energies and reverence for the first take has become a huge part of the magic of Thief’s recent output. One afternoon in the castle-like studio, the band was running through a brand new song ‘Change’ for the first time. Right when they thought it might be time to do a take, Monks came out of the booth to let them know that he’d captured the practice and it was perfect as it was.   The final session, in hot-as-heaven Tucson, Arizona, took place in the home studio of Scott McMicken. The several months of recording had caught up to Big Thief at this point so, in order to bring in some new energy, they invited long-time friend Mat Davidson of Twain to join. This was the first time that Big Thief had ever brought in a 5th instrumentalist for such a significant contribution. His fiddle, and vocals weave a heavy presence throughout the Tucson tracks. If the album's main through-line is its free-play, anything-is-possible energy, then this environment was the perfect spot to conclude its creation — filling the messy living room with laughter, letting the fire blaze in the backyard, and ripping spontaneous, extended jams as trains whistled outside.  All 4 of these sessions, in their varied states of fidelity, style, and mood, when viewed together as one album seem to stand for a more honest, zoomed-out picture of lived experience than would be possible on a traditional, 12 song record. This was exactly what the band hoped would be the outcome of this kind of massive experiment. When Max’s mom asked on a phone call what it feels like to be back together with the band playing music for the first time in a year, he described to the best of abilities: “Well it’s like, we’re a band, we talk, we have different dynamics, we do the breaths, and then we go on stage and suddenly it feels like we are now on a dragon. And we can’t really talk because we have to steer this dragon.”  The attempt to capture something deeper, wider, and full of mystery, points to the inherent spirit of Big Thief. Traces of this open-hearted, non-dogmatic faith can be felt through previous albums, but here on Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You lives the strongest testament to its existence. 

Gang of Youths frontman David Le’aupepe’s life was turned upside down in 2018 when his beloved father, Tattersall, passed away. Dealing with his dad’s loss was one thing—uncovering the secrets that came to light in the wake of his passing was another. His father was born in Samoa in 1938, not New Zealand in 1948, as Le’aupepe had believed. Tattersall also had two sons in New Zealand before faking his death and moving to Australia—half-brothers that Le’aupepe was, until his father’s passing, unaware he had. “\[These\] were things that my dad hid or made sure that we didn’t find out about because, I think, there was a lot of guilt and sadness and scandal around his life before he came to Australia,” Le’aupepe tells Apple Music’s Matt Wilkinson. The singer wasn’t, however, angry when these revelations came to light. “My dad was amazing, but he was a complicated man,” says Le’aupepe. “He was my hero. And naturally, when you find out more about your hero, you get excited. Also, I wanted big brothers growing up, and I just supplemented them with the band and people from church and stuff like that. So, I was actually able to claim a part of myself, a part of my heritage, a part of all this stuff, while also simultaneously reconnecting with these two blokes who I just loved instantly. It was a really, really cool thing.” Tattersall’s passing is a lyrical theme that binds Gang of Youths’ third album together (“I prayed the day you passed/But the heavens didn’t listen,” begins Le’aupepe on opener “you in everything”), but the events of his life and death are captured most concisely in the sparse, poetic piano ballad “brothers.” “There’s a sense of the storytelling traditions of old,” says Le’aupepe of the song. “I listen to a lot of Paul Kelly, Archie Roach—the greatest songwriters who wrote and told stories. Joni Mitchell’s ‘Cactus Tree’ is another one. I love a cinematic slow reveal of what the story’s about. And obviously, cinema’s played a huge role in influencing where this album’s gone visually and sonically.” So, too, has the singer’s Polynesian heritage. While songs such as “the angel of 8th ave.” and “the man himself” merge the band’s penchant for big-tent indie rock with a distinct hint of Britpop (“spirit boy”), and “the kingdom is within you” flirts with UK garage, the album is rich with a mélange of Polynesian musical influences. Witness the presence of Cook Islands drum group the Nuanua Drummers and the Auckland Gospel Choir on “in the wake of your leave,” or the spoken-word verse in “spirit boy,” delivered in the Māori language te reo. “the man himself,” meanwhile, features samples of Pacific Island hymns, captured by British composer David Fanshawe. “There was a sense of wanting to make the record feel like it wasn’t just us mining my people’s past or our people’s collective past for inspiration,” says Le’aupepe, “but that we were in a mode of wanting to move forward and \[take\] what’s happening now in terms of a creative direction.” That the London-based, Sydney-born band managed to largely self-produce (with occasional coproduction from Peter Katis and Peter Hutchings) such an expansive album in their rehearsal room in the East London suburb of Hackney is nothing short of remarkable. “It felt like this anarchic confluence of values,” says Le’aupepe. “It was really, really interesting seeing how together we are, and working in that close, confined space has given us a unity of opinion, or a unity of ‘this is where we’re going to go with it.’ And I think that was all cultivated in the sessions for *angel in realtime.*”

Gang of Youths David Le'aupepe – lead vocals, production, engineering (all tracks); guitar (1, 2, 5, 6); backing vocals, piano (2, 6); bass (3), keyboards (3, 5, 6), synthesizer (6) Donnie Borzestowski – drums, production, engineering (all tracks); percussion (1, 5, 6), piano (1), backing vocals (2, 4, 6–13) Max Dunn – production, engineering (all tracks); bass (1, 2, 4–13), banjo (1, 5), piano (1, 6), backing vocals (2), guitar (3); autoharp, keyboards (5), Tom Hobden – production, engineering (all tracks); backing vocals (2, 5), viola (2, 4–6, 11), violin (2–6, 11), piano (4, 7, 9–13) Jung Kim – guitar, production, engineering (all tracks);, backing vocals (2), piano (3, 8) Additional musicians Daniel Ricciardo – backing vocals (2, 11) Auckland Gospel Choir – backing vocals (2, 11) Seumanu Simon Matāfai – music direction (2), piano (6) Anuanua Drummers – percussion (2, 6) Ian Burdge – cello (5, 11) Johnny Griffiths – clarinet, flute, saxophone (5) Ilid Jones – cor anglais, oboe (5) Nick Etwell – flugelhorn, trumpet (5, 11) Matt Gunner – French horn (5, 11) Dave Williamson – trombone (5, 11) Indiana Dunn – backing vocals, percussion (6) James Larter – marimba (6) Kaumātua – spoken voice (6) Tony Gibbs – spoken voice (6) Aemon Beech - percussion (1) Anna Pamin – percussion (11) Blake Friend – percussion (11) Peter Hutchings – synthesizer (11) Technical Peter Hutchings – production (2, 11), engineering (2, 3, 6, 11), mixing (11) Peter Katis – production (2), mixing (5) Count – mastering (1, 2, 5, 6), mixing (1, 2, 6) Joe LaPorta – mastering (3) Craig Silvey – mixing (3, 11) Richard Woodcraft – engineering (1, 5, 6, 11) Gergő Láposi – orchestral engineering (1) Péter Barabás – orchestral engineering (1) Dani Bennett Spragg – mixing assistance (11) Emily Wheatcroft Snape – engineering assistance (2, 11) Jamie Sprosen – engineering assistance (2, 11) Luke O'Dea – engineering assistance (3) Tess Dunn – engineering assistance (6)

A couple of years before she became known as one half of Wet Leg, Rhian Teasdale left her home on the Isle of Wight, where a long-term relationship had been faltering, to live with friends in London. Every Tuesday, their evening would be interrupted by the sound of people screaming in the property below. “We were so worried the first time we heard it,” Teasdale tells Apple Music. Eventually, their investigations revealed that scream therapy sessions were being held downstairs. “There’s this big scream in the song ‘Ur Mum,’” says Teasdale. “I thought it’d be funny to put this frustration and the failure of this relationship into my own personal scream therapy session.” That mix of humor and emotional candor is typical of *Wet Leg*. Crafting tightly sprung post-punk and melodic psych-pop and indie rock, Teasdale and bandmate Hester Chambers explore the existential anxieties thrown up by breakups, partying, dating apps, and doomscrolling—while also celebrating the fun to be had in supermarkets. “It’s my own experience as a twentysomething girl from the Isle of Wight moving to London,” says Teasdale. The strains of disenchantment and frustration are leavened by droll, acerbic wit (“You’re like a piece of shit, you either sink or float/So you take her for a ride on your daddy’s boat,” she chides an ex on “Piece of shit”), and humor has helped counter the dizzying speed of Wet Leg’s ascent. On the strength of debut single “Chaise Longue,” Teasdale and Chambers were instantly cast by many—including Elton John, Iggy Pop, and Florence Welch—as one of Britain’s most exciting new bands. But the pair have remained committed to why they formed Wet Leg in the first place. “It’s such a shame when you see bands but they’re habitually in their band—they’re not enjoying it,” says Teasdale. “I don’t want us to ever lose sight of having fun. Having silly songs obviously helps.” Here, she takes us through each of the songs—silly or otherwise—on *Wet Leg*. **“Being in Love”** “People always say, ‘Oh, romantic love is everything. It’s what every person should have in this life.’ But actually, it’s not really conducive to getting on with what you want to do in life. I read somewhere that the kind of chemical storm that is produced in your brain, if you look at a scan, it’s similar to someone with OCD. I just wanted to kind of make that comparison.” **“Chaise Longue”** “It came out of a silly impromptu late-night jam. I was staying over at Hester’s house when we wrote it, and when I stay over, she always makes up the chaise longue for me. It was a song that never really was supposed to see the light of day. So it’s really funny to me that so many people are into it and have connected with it. It’s cool. I was as an assistant stylist \[on Ed Sheeran’s ‘Bad Habits’ video\]. Online, a newspaper \[*The New York Times*\] was doing the top 10 videos out this week, and it was funny to see ‘Chaise Longue’ next to this video I’d been working on. Being on set, you have an idea of the budget that goes into getting all these people together to make this big pop-star video. And then you scroll down and it’s our little video that we spent about £50 on. Hester had a camera and she set up all the shots. Then I edited it using a free trial version of Final Cut.” **“Angelica”** “The song is set at a party that you no longer want to be at. Other people are feeling the same, but you are all just fervently, aggressively trying to force yourself to have a good time. And actually, it’s not always possible to have good times all the time. Angelica is the name of my oldest friend, so we’ve been to a lot of rubbish parties together. We’ve also been to a lot of good parties together, but I thought it would be fun to put her name in the song and have her running around as the main character.” **“I Don’t Wanna Go Out”** “It’s kind of similar to ‘Angelica’—it’s that disenchantment of getting fucked up at parties, and you’re gradually edging into your late twenties, early thirties, and you’re still working your shitty waitressing job. I was trying to convince myself that I was working these shitty jobs so that I could do music on the side. But actually, you’re kind of kidding yourself and you’re seeing all of your friends starting to get real jobs and they’re able to buy themselves nice shampoo. You’re trying to distract yourself from not achieving the things that you want to achieve in life by going to these parties. But you can’t keep kidding yourself, and I think it’s that realization that I’ve tried to inject into the lyrics of this song.” **“Wet Dream”** “The chorus is ‘Beam me up.’ There’s this Instagram account called beam\_me\_up\_softboi. It’s posts of screenshots of people’s texts and DMs and dating-app goings-on with this term ‘softboi,’ which to put it quite simply is someone in the dating scene who’s presenting themselves as super, super in touch with their feelings and really into art and culture. And they use that as currency to try and pick up girls. It’s not just men that are softbois; women can totally be softbois, too. The character in the song is that, basically. It’s got a little bit of my own personal breakup injected into it. This particular person would message me since we’d broken up being like, ‘Oh, I had a dream about you. I dreamt that we were married,’ even though it was definitely over. So I guess that’s why I decided to set it within a dream: It was kind of making fun of this particular message that would keep coming through to me.” **“Convincing”** “I was really pleased when we came to recording this one, because for the bulk of the album, it is mainly me taking lead vocals, which is fine, but Hester has just the most beautiful voice. I hope she won’t mind me saying, but she kind of struggles to see that herself. So it felt like a big win when she was like, ‘OK, I’m going to do it. I’m going to sing. I’m going to do this song.’ It’s such a cool song and she sounds so great on it.” **“Loving You”** “I met this guy when I was 20, so I was pretty young. We were together for six or seven years or something, and he was a bit older, and I just fell so hard. I fell so, so hard in love with him. And then it got pretty toxic towards the end, and I guess I was a bit angry at how things had gone. So it’s just a pretty angry song, without dobbing him in too much. I feel better now, though. Don’t worry. It’s all good.” **“Ur Mum”** “It’s about giving up on a relationship that isn’t serving you anymore, either of you, and being able to put that down and walk away from it. I was living with this guy on the Isle of Wight, living the small-town life. I was trying to move to London or Bristol or Brighton and then I’d move back to be with this person. Eventually, we managed to put the relationship down and I moved in with some friends in London. Every Tuesday, it’d get to 7 pm and you’d hear that massive group scream. We learned that downstairs was home to the Psychedelic Society and eventually realized that it was scream therapy. I thought it’d be funny to put this frustration and the failure of this relationship into my own personal scream therapy session.” **“Oh No”** “The amount of time and energy that I lose by doomscrolling is not OK. It’s not big and it’s not clever. This song is acknowledging that and also acknowledging this other world that you live in when you’re lost in your phone. When we first wrote this, it was just to fill enough time to play a festival that we’d been booked for when we didn’t have a full half-hour set. It used to be even more repetitive, and the lyrics used to be all the same the whole way through. When it came to recording it, we’re like, ‘We should probably write a few more lyrics,’ because when you’re playing stuff live, I think you can definitely get away with not having actual lyrics.” **“Piece of shit”** “When I’m writing the lyrics for all the songs with Wet Leg, I am quite careful to lean towards using quite straightforward, unfussy language and I avoid, at all costs, using similes. But this song is the one song on the album that uses simile—‘like a piece of shit.’ Pretty poetic. I think writing this song kind of helped me move on from that \[breakup\]. It sounds like I’m pretty wound up. But actually, it’s OK now, I feel a lot better.” **“Supermarket”** “It was written just as we were coming out of lockdown and there was that time where the highlight of your week would be going to the supermarket to do the weekly shop, because that was literally all you could do. I remember queuing for Aldi and feeling like I was queuing for a nightclub.” **“Too Late Now”** “It’s about arriving in adulthood and things maybe not being how you thought they would be. Getting to a certain age, when it’s time to get a real job, and you’re a bit lost, trying to navigate through this world of dating apps and social media. So much is out of our control in this life, and ‘Too late now, lost track somehow,’ it’s just being like, ‘Everything’s turned to shit right now, but that’s OK because it’s unavoidable.’ It sounds very depressing, but you know sometimes how you can just take comfort in the fact that no matter what you do, you’re going to die anyway, so don’t worry about it too much, because you can’t control everything? I guess there’s a little bit of that in ‘Too Late Now.’”

After a long stint living in Australia, Zambian rapper Sampa Tembo returned to the country of her birth to make her second studio album. A swaggering celebration of self-love and cultural identity, *As Above So Below* sees Tembo incorporate traditional Zambian music as well as cutting-edge hip-hop and subtler stylistic cues from psych, blues, and folk. “It has the traditional spiritual elements,” Tembo tells Apple Music, “but then we are venturing off into worlds that are not considered Zambian music and we are creating a new genre, which is really exciting for me.” Setting out to smash preconceptions about African women, Tembo scoffs at the idea of staying in her lane on the Denzel Curry-featuring “Lane” and enlists trailblazing Beninese singer Angelique Kidjo to further lift the self-affirming finale “Let Me Be Great.” Tembo’s younger sister Mwanje also sings on two tracks, while Joey Bada\$$ adds his own spin to the theme of hiding one’s true self on the slinking, bass-blasted “Mask On.” *As Above So Below* even showcases some of Zambia’s native languages, reinforcing the central concept of embracing home. “There’s a vibration in language,” says Tembo. “That\'s why I’m very adamant of adding my language to the situation. You can’t change it. You can’t change it and you can’t fake it.”

“I’ve always been led by circumstance and accident with music,” Australian singer-songwriter Laura Jean tells Apple Music. As evidence, the artist born Laura Jean Englert points to 2018’s synth-heavy *Devotion*, which was written on a keyboard a friend found on the street. Follow-up album *Amateurs*, her sixth, was penned on her mother’s piano and Englert’s old acoustic guitar, which explains the record’s return to her more folk-indebted roots, albeit with lavish and lovingly crafted string arrangements. Thematically the LP is a multidimensional affair, rich with characters and situations from Englert’s life, tied together by one central concept. “The album’s really about being an artist in Australia, a mid-career artist, and the way artists feel in Australia about their practice. So *Amateurs* is like the eternal amateur of the Australian artist. Because of our small population it’s very rare for any of us to make a living from it, which is fine. But it means that you always feel like it’s a hobby. I was talking to a friend about how the word ‘amateur’ means to do something for love, and it’s funny how that’s an insult in our culture. If you do something not for money, you must be shit at it. That’s pretty depressing.” To go deeper into the themes of *Amateurs*, read Englert’s track-by-track explanation. **“Teenager Again”** “The way it ties into the *Amateurs* theme is, it was me as a young person realizing that I needed help. I wasn’t very well, and me and my mum were quite naive in how we tried to help me. It was the late ’90s and New Age stuff was going off and my mum was really into it, so I did go to a psychic and she did tell me those things \[in the song Laura sings that a psychic told her ‘I was an Aztec and I was sacrificed’\]. It’s the setting for the album, which is someone who is trying their best even though they’re somewhat naive in their skill.” **“Amateurs”** “When I toured with Courtney Barnett in 2018 as a support act, I started to feel like a clown, like I was a jester. I was playing *Devotion* on this drum machine sequencer kind of thing. Some of Courtney’s audience were rock fans \[and\] were like, ‘Why is this woman getting up there and singing “Girls on the TV” with this weird robot orchestra?’ So that’s why I felt like a bit of a funny clown. I think I relate more to being a sad clown than I do being a musician.” **“Too Much to Do”** “I wrote that one on mum’s piano. It was probably just because I was trying to study law full-time and work and write songs and I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. So as always I just started making fun of myself and the idea of songwriting being a spiritual practice, this kind of devotional practice. So it’s a whole thing of being a nun, and songwriting is my prayer. It’s making fun of how seriously I take it sometimes.” **“Folk Festival”** “That’s just about playing at a folk festival in the Northern Rivers. I was playing that same set \[from her Courtney Barnett support\] and still felt that people were like, ‘Is she an amateur? Who is this person?’ I was just thinking about how different generations listen to music. And feeling like someone who doesn’t quite fit in to the expectations of any generation, or at least not the baby boomers or the Gen Zs.” **“Market on the Sand”** “I was pretty depressed and mum was trying to cheer me up and she was like, ‘Let’s go to this market down at Avoca Beach,’ ’cause I grew up on the \[New South Wales\] Central Coast. So we went down to this market and it didn’t have any sense of place. I find it hard to enjoy anything that doesn’t have a sense of place, of locality. And that’s why I talk about that girl singing Crowded House, and why are you singing ‘Four Seasons in One Day’? We’re on the Central Coast, there’s only one season here. Why don’t we sing about who we are and where we live? It’s that tension between the excellent side of globalization with the side of it that destroys locality.” **“Pauly”** “This is really about motherhood and the idea of motherhood passing you by, and near misses with motherhood. I needed to come in the side door because I didn’t want to write about it in a direct way. I just started writing about this story that my boyfriend told me about this parrot that he found. I think the elements that I took were the near miss of owning that parrot in the first verse—we almost had that parrot, that person. And then the next verse is me addressing the parrot, saying, ‘I could have had you but you didn’t want to come.’ So it’s really about pregnancy.” **“Rainbow Club”** “It’s about similar stuff \[to ‘Pauly’\]. Those two songs are really about close calls with motherhood and the way it made me feel and what it made me think about. They’re pretty abstract, and I don’t know if anyone will understand what they’re about without instruction. But I hope it comes across, ’cause they’re not the easiest songs on the album.” **“Rock’n’Roll Holiday”** “It’s a pretty complicated song. It’s not exactly about my situation, but it is about inter-class relationships in life and my attitude to being an artist and how my working-class upbringing affects that. And \[it’s about\] my family tree and my lineage, my grandparents, and how I kind of carry them with me when I’m writing songs, and how I’m grateful to do this because my predecessors wouldn’t have been able to do this. I’m not on a rock ’n’ roll holiday, this is serious!” **“A Funny Thing Happened”** “Mum used to love trying to get into amateur musical theater when I was a kid. She never really got a main part, but she always got in the chorus, so we went to a lot of musical theater when I was growing up. It’s just a tribute to that and wondering if the dream I had of being a songwriter and singer was more her dream or my dream, and wondering how that works with what parents pass to their children—do they also pass their unfulfilled dreams? It’s kind of asking that question.” **“Something To Look Forward To Forever”** “A teenager is the ultimate amateur; an amateur at being a person. You feel so much magic when you’re a kid and a teenager, and I thought, why is that? And I realized it was potentiality. I think the idea that potentiality is magic ties in with the whole amateur theme of not having to make it, not having to arrive. The point of my music is not to finish, it’s to keep going until I’m dead. Something to look forward to forever, something to always go towards, and that’s magic to me. That is the true happiness and excitement of life and being an artist. That’s a little message I wanted to send at the end there.”

Amateurs is a stunning, string-laden album, set at a mystical midway point between the deep synth-pop of Devotion and the folkier sounds of Laura’s earlier work. Laura worked with producer Tim Bruniges (Miiesha, Honey 2 Honey, The Dead Sea) in Stanmore and St Peters on Gadigal Country in-between the long 2020-2021 lockdowns. Erkki Veltheim (Gurrumul, Archie Roach) arranged gorgeous strings for the album, which were recorded by Devotion producer John Lee in Naarm/Melbourne. Amateurs is an album about anti-art and anti-intellectual culture in Australia (that also applies to other parts of the world). It sees Laura questioning her role as a songwriter and examining the reality of her choices to prioritise art over other parts of her life. It is also a warmhearted, humorous and sonically breathtaking album. “These songs arise from my acceptance that I will always be an ‘amateur’,” Laura says.”At the same time, I was fuelled by a desire to create something inordinately luxurious and beautiful.”

In sharply differing ways, thoughts of place and identity run through Fontaines D.C.’s music. Where 2019 debut *Dogrel* delivered a rich and raw portrait of the band’s home city, Dublin, 2020 follow-up *A Hero’s Death* was the sound of dislocation, a set of songs drawing on the introspection, exhaustion, and yearning of an anchorless life on the road. When the five-piece moved to London midway through the pandemic, the experiences of being outsiders in a new city, often facing xenophobia and prejudice, provided creative fuel for third album *Skinty Fia*. The music that emerged weaves folk, electronic, and melodic indie pop into their post-punk foundations, while contemplating Irishness and how it transforms in a different country. “That’s the lens through which all of the subjects that we explore are seen through anyway,” singer Grian Chatten tells Apple Music’s Matt Wilkinson. “There are definitely themes of jealousy, corruption, and stuff like that, but it’s all seen through the eyes of someone who’s at odds with their own identity, culturally speaking.” Recording the album after dark helped breed feelings of discomfort that Chatten says are “necessary to us,” and it continued a nocturnal schedule that had originally countered the claustrophobia of a locked-down city. “We wrote a lot of it at night as well,” says Chatten. “We went into the rehearsal space just as something different to do. When pubs and all that kind of thing were closed, it was a way of us feeling like the world was sort of open.” Here, Chatten and guitarist Carlos O’Connell talk us through a number of *Skinty Fia*’s key moments. **“In ár gCroíthe go deo”** Grian Chatten: “An Irish woman who lived in Coventry \[Margaret Keane\] passed away. Her family wanted the words ‘In ár gCroíthe go deo,’ which means ‘in our hearts forever,’ on her gravestone as a respectful and beautiful ode to her Irishness, but they weren’t allowed without an English translation. Essentially the Church of England decreed that it would be potentially seen as a political slogan. The Irish language is apparently, according to these people, an inflammatory thing in and of itself, which is a very base level of xenophobia. It’s a basic expression of a culture, is the language. If you’re considering that to be related to terrorism, which is what they’re implying, I think. That sounds like it’s something out of the ’70s, but this is two and a half years ago.” Carlos O’Connell: “About a year ago, it got turned around and \[the family\] won this case.” GC: “The family were made aware \[of the song\] and asked if they could listen to it. Apparently they really loved it, and they played it at the gravestone. So, that’s 100,000 Grammys worth of validation.” **“Big Shot”** CO: “When you’ve got used to living with what you have and then all these dreams happen to you, it’s always going to overshadow what you had before. The only impact that \[Fontaines’ success\] was having in my life was that it just made anything that I had before quite meaningless for a while, and I felt quite lost in that. That’s that lyric, ‘I traveled to space and found the moon too small’—it’s like, go up there and actually it’s smaller than the Earth.” GC: “We’ve all experienced it very differently and that’s made us grow in different ways. But that song just sounded like a very true expression of Carlos. Perhaps more honest than he always is with himself or other people. All the honesty was balled up into that tune.” **“Jackie Down the Line”** GC: “It’s an expression of misanthropy. And there’s toxicity there. There’s erosion of each other’s characters. It’s a very un-beneficial, unglamorous relationship that isn’t necessarily about two people. I like the idea of it being about Irishness, fighting to not be eroded as it exists in a different country. The name is Jackie because a Dubliner would be called, in a pejorative sense, a Jackeen by people from other parts of Ireland. That’s probably in reference to the Union Jack as well—it’s like the Pale \[an area of Ireland, including Dublin, that was under English governmental control during the late Middle Ages\]. So it’s this kind of mutation of Irishness or loss of Irishness as it exists, or fails to exist, in a different environment.” **“Roman Holiday”** GC: “The whole thing was colored by my experience in London. I moved to London to be with my fiancée, and as an Irish person living in London, as one of a gang of Irish people, there was that kind of searching energy, there was this excitement, there was a kind of adventure—but also this very, very tight-knit, rigorously upkept group energy. I think that’s what influenced the tune.” **“The Couple Across the Way”** GC: “I lived on Caledonian Road \[in North London\] and our gaff backed onto another house. There was a couple that lived there, they were probably mid-seventies, and they had really loud arguments. The kind of arguments where you’d see London on a map getting further, further away and hear the shout resounding. Something like *The Simpsons*. And the man would come out and take a big breath. He’d stand on his balcony and look left and right and exhale all the drama. And then he’d just turn around and go back in to his gaff to do the same thing the next day. The absurdity of that, of what we put ourselves through, to be in a relationship that causes you such daily pain, to just always turn around and go back in. I couldn’t really help but write about that physical mirror that was there. Am I seeing myself and my girlfriend in these two people, and vice versa? So I tried to tie it in to it being from both perspectives at some point.” **“Skinty Fia”** GC: “The line ‘There is a track beneath the wheel and it’s there ’til we die’ is about being your dad’s son. There are many ways in which we explore doom on this record. One of them is following in the footsteps of your ancestors, or your predecessors, no matter how immediate or far away they might have been. I’m interested in the inescapability of genetics, the idea that your fate is written. I do, on some level, believe in that. That is doom, even if your faith is leading you to a positive place. Freedom is probably the main pursuit of a lot of our music. I think that that is probably a link that ties all of the stuff that we’ve done together—autonomy.” **“I Love You”** GC: “It’s most ostensibly a love letter to Ireland, but has in it the corruption and the sadness and the grief with the ever-changing Dublin and Ireland. The reason that I wanted to call it ‘I Love You’ is because I found its cliché very attractive. It meant that there was a lot of work to be done in order to justify such a basic song and not have it be a clichéd tune. It’s a song with two heads, because you’ve got the slow, melodic verses that are a little bit more straightforward and then the lid is lifted off energetically. I think that the friction between those two things encapsulates the double-edged sword that is love.” **“Nabokov”** GC: “I think there’s a different arc to this album. The first two, I think, achieve a sense of happiness and hope halfway through, and end on a note of hope. I think this one does actually achieve hope halfway through—and then slides back into a hellish, doomy thing with the last track and stuff. I think that was probably one of the more conscious decisions that we made while making this album.”

"2020’s A Hero’s Death saw Fontaines D.C. land a #2 album in the UK, receive nominations at the GRAMMYs, BRITs and Ivor Novello Awards, and sell out London’s iconic Alexandra Palace. Now the band return with their third record in as many years: Skinty Fia. Used colloquially as an expletive, the title roughly translates from the Irish language into English as “the damnation of the deer”; the spelling crassly anglicized, and its meaning diluted through generations. Part bittersweet romance, part darkly political triumph - the songs ultimately form a long-distance love letter, one that laments an increasingly privatized culture in danger of going the way of the extinct Irish giant deer."

Melbourne producer and bandleader Mike Katz—aka Harvey Sutherland, the name under which Katz has released music since 2013—refers to his debut album *Boy* as “neurotic funk.” Certainly there’s plenty of dance and electro-funk to be heard here, particularly on his collab with boogie legend DāM FunK on “Feeling of Love” and the slap-bass-heavy “Michael Was Right About You” (featuring Katz on vocals). The neurotic part of the equation comes from the fact that Katz penned the album in between touring, recording, and visits with his psychotherapist. There’s a jitteriness to the jazz-funk of “Age of Acceleration,” which reflects on the chaotic events of 2022, while the rock ’n’ roll-meets-dance of “Type A” (featuring Jack “sos” Summers of Melbourne punkers CLAMM) boasts the lyric “My insecurity is all genuine.” Krautrock infiltrates the title track and opener “Jouissance,” the latter also influenced by Melbourne producer and composer Kirkis, reinforcing the sense that this is dance music with soul, heart, and a nervous twitch.

Since releasing her debut album Don’t Let the Kids Win in 2016, Melbourne’s Julia Jacklin has carved out a fearsome reputation as a direct lyricist, willing to excavate the parameters of intimacy and agency in songs both stark and raw, loose, and playful. If her debut announced those intentions, and the startling 2019 follow-up Crushing drew in listeners uncomfortably close, PRE PLEASURE is the sound of Jacklin gently loosening her grip. Stirring piano-led opener ‘Lydia Wears A Cross’ channels the underage confusion of being told religion is profound, despite only feeling it during the spectacle of its pageantry. The gentle pulse of ‘Love, Try Not To Let Go’ and dreamy strings of ‘Ignore Tenderness’ betray an interrogation of consent and emotional injury. The stark ‘Less Of A Stranger’ picks at the generational thread of a mother/daughter relationship, while the hymnal ‘Too In Love To Die’ and loose jam of ‘Be Careful With Yourself’ equate true love with the fear of losing it. Recorded in Montreal with co-producer Marcus Paquin (The Weather Station, The National), PRE PLEASURE finds Jacklin teamed with her Canada-based touring band, bassist Ben Whiteley and guitarist Will Kidman, both of Canadian folk outfit The Weather Station. It also introduces drummer Laurie Torres, saxophonist Adam Kinner and string arrangements by Owen Pallett (Arcade Fire) recorded by a full orchestra in Prague. PRE PLEASURE presents Jacklin as her most authentic self; an uncompromising and masterful lyricist, always willing to mine the depths of her own life experience, and singular in translating it into deeply personal, timeless songs.

Releasing your debut album is the realization of a dream for any burgeoning artist. But for TSHA, *Capricorn Sun* sees not one but two dreams come true. “I’d always dreamt of having goats on my album cover,” she tells Apple Music. “I’m a Capricorn, so they’re my spirit animal, and they’re hardy, hardworking but playful, fun and interesting too, which is something I’ve always related to.” Following a run of EPs which saw TSHA become one of UK dance music’s most talked-about producers and claimed fans from Bonobo to Pete Tong (who recruited her as a mentor for his online DJ Academy), the London producer here defines and expands her music all at the same time. “It’s really eclectic in terms of the sounds I’m using,” she explains. “And I’m playing around with different tempos and delving into breaks and other sounds I haven’t explored much before. Overall it’s quite melancholic and there’s some darker moments than my previous work, but it’s optimistic and euphoric at the same time too.” Here, TSHA talks us through the album, track by track. **“Galdem (Intro)”** “During the lockdown, myself and my friend \[UK producer\] Effy really supported each other through what was a tough time and were sending voice notes back and forth to each other all day. I thought using one of those was a really nice way to open the album. Musically, it’s got the emotive piano chords and emotionally opens the whole album up.” **“The Light”** “This is a really simple track and was made at a time when I was feeling hopeful and positive for the future. It’s just the piano and a vocal sample, and calling it ‘The Light’ reflects where I was at mentally.” **“OnlyL” (feat. Nimmo)** “I love Nimmo, so it was great to work with them on this track. They have very different voices but they just marry together perfectly. There’s definitely a touch of ’90s rave euphoria here.” **“Water” (feat. Oumou Sangaré)** “I made this song just before the pandemic kicked off. I eventually managed to get the last flight out of the US, but before that, I’d been able to go into the BMG archive and found this vocal sample from Oumou Sangaré which I really love. I love the tone and the emotion in the voice. I couldn’t clear the sample at the time or I would have released it earlier, but I’m so glad people finally get to hear it.” **“Dancing in the Shadows” (feat. Clementine Douglas)** “Clementine has been on so many great dance tracks in the last few years, and she’s a real go-getter and is constantly writing top lines and sending them out to people. She sent me an a cappella and I just thought, ‘Wow, this is so beautiful.’ Usually I work on a track and then look for a vocal, but I worked the other way round with this. I wanted a bit of an early-2000s Ibiza vibe to it, and I’d also started to explore using breaks more in my music by then, so you can hear that influence too.” **“Giving Up” (feat. Mafro)** “Mafro’s my fiancé and also a successful music producer and artist in his own right. This was made during the lockdown in winter 2021 and it coincided with us being a bit disjointed because we were stuck in the house and couldn’t get away from each other. It was a tough time and I think that’s reflected in the music, but working on music together actually helped us out. It’s a melancholy track, and you can hear the frustration in it too.” **“Anxious Mind” (feat. Clementine Douglas)** “I wrote this at a time when I was suffering a lot of anxiety and it felt really heightened, so the track ended up sounding quite dark. I was also playing around with different tempos, and this is written at 140 beats per minute, which is the fastest I’ve written at. But it has that half-time sound so doesn’t strike you as being particularly fast at first.” **“Time”** “This is my favorite track on the whole album. We had moved to Tottenham and I got a studio there, so it was really nice to get out of the house and have my own space to work on music. That’s where I wrote this, and I was feeling really good about myself and happy at the time, so it’s got a lighter feel. I wrote it at 105 beats per minute, which is a really slow tempo for me.” **“Power”** “This track amalgamates a lot of old-school sounds with new sounds. There’s a great drum break on it, and then there’s a sample from a track called ‘I’m the One’ by the ’80s Brit-funk band Direct Drive. It’s a real dance-floor song and brings a lot of sounds I Iove together.” **“Running”** “Although it sounds nothing like them, I was quite influenced by Pink Floyd for ‘Running.’ I’d been listening to them a lot and there’s a psychedelic sensibility which kind of seeped into my brain and came out on some of the tracks. It’s a simple track really; the guitar riff is the main motif, and there’s a vocal sample in there too.” **“Sister”** “‘Sister’ was on my *Flowers* EP and is about me finding out I had a sister I didn’t know about, later in life. I wanted to include it on the album too because it’s a song I feel really good about and a lot of people got in touch with me saying how much it helped them over the past few years. I’m really attached to the song, and I’m glad other people are too.” **“Nala (Outro)”** “This track’s inspired by my dog, Nala. She’s my little studio friend, and I just look at her and feel inspired to write. She’s small and super loving, and I just wanted to dedicate something to her.”

TSHA returns to Ninja Tune with her long-awaited debut album ‘Capricorn Sun’, set for release on Friday 7th October 2022. Recorded over the past two years, the record delivers on the promise of her previous EP’s and Singles with 12 tracks that perfectly encapsulate the emotive blend of underground electronic and hook-laden pop sensibilities that have led to her being one of the most talked about new artists of the past few years. From gracing the front cover of high-profile magazines, appearing on numerous billboards, being included in flagship playlists and programmes by multiple streaming services and being placed on countless ‘best of’ & ‘one to watch’ lists, alongside high-praise from across the music press and radio – TSHA shows no sign of slowing down in 2022. The album follows her recent compilation for the revered ‘fabric presents’ series and an immense touring schedule that has seen her booked for over 100 shows across 2021/22, including opening for Disclosure at their two Alexandra Palace shows, performing to 40,000 fans across the West Coast of America with Bob Moses, a run of North American shows with Flume — including a stop at Colorado’s iconic Red Rocks Amphitheatre — a festival run that includes a set at this year’s Glastonbury and an ongoing residency at Ibiza’s DC-10 for Circoloco to name just a few. ‘Capricorn Sun’ is both a statement of where she is right now as an artist and producer, but also a reflection of time she spent writing and recording the album, and the impact of global events, familial upheaval and personal struggles during that period. Lead single “Giving Up” — released today and arguably the most ‘peak time’ moment on the record — features TSHA’s partner Mafro, and was written during a period of strain between the couple (“I feel like that track is a manifestation of our frustrations at the time”). As you move through the album’s remaining tracks there are noticeable shifts across moods and emotions - ranging from the more upbeat and positive “The Light” and “OnlyL” through to moodier cuts like “Anxious Mind” — a personal highlight of TSHA’s — and the brooding “Dancing In The Shadows”, both of which feature vocalist Clementine Douglas. Other tracks hold significance for particular points in TSHA’s life, such as the previously released single “Sister”, written during lockdown after finding out she had an older half sister via her estranged father, and “Water” which picks up on TSHA’s love of the Malian Griot singing traditions (as evidenced on previous single “Demba ft. Trio De Kali”) and features Grammy-winning vocalist Oumou Sangaré. As a Capricorn herself, TSHA was initially drawn to the tales of ancient Greek mythology that told of a creature with the body of a goat and tail of a fish, hinting at the dual nature of the sign and the idea of having two distinct sides to a personality. “I like to identify with some of the positive characteristics of a Capricorn: the hardiness and the work ethic… but also the sensitivity,” she explains. “Naming the album ‘Capricorn Sun’ was a good way of saying ‘this is me’”. It’s a theme that carries through the album’s creative and artwork, which features several pygmy goats that are “a visual representation of the different parts of me, like the songs on the album represent different parts of me,” says TSHA. ‘Capricorn Sun’ is out on LP/CD & Digitally on 7th October 2022.

There’s a deep sense of urgency throughout the Oils’ 13th album—for good reason. The central focus of *Resist* is the climate crisis, rising sea levels, and the exploitation of land and people—particularly First Nations communities—by the Australian government. The Aussie rock icons have always been deeply political, but it’s never felt more vital, anguished, or timely than here. The album has been a few years in the making, with some tracks written back in early 2019, before *The Makarrata Project*, a collaborative album released in October 2020. “So, when it came time to do the album with producer Warne Livesey, we could record them quickly, without fuss,” guitarist Jim Moginie tells Apple Music. “Twenty songs down in five eight-hour days over eight weeks, and our last sessions with our brother Bones,” he says, referring to the Oils’ late bassist, Bones Hillman, who passed away from cancer in November 2020. Below, Moginie, frontman Peter Garrett, and drummer Rob Hirst explain the stories and themes behind each song on this powerful, provocative album. **“Rising Seas”** Jim Moginie: “It’s a hypothetical reality, a glimpse into the future. The water levels have risen. The captains of industry and the rich have abandoned the ship for higher ground. The poorest countries will be the ones left at or below sea level. It’s already happening across the Pacific. Governments sacrifice lives and homes when they deliver policy for big polluters, whether they be mining companies, oil drilling, cotton farming in the desert, or destruction of rainforest ecosystems.” **“The Barka-Darling River”** Jim Moginie: “The entire Barka-Darling is either dammed or siphoned off for town water or irrigation, or diverted for the benefit of mankind in this driest of landscapes, but there’s a limit to what she’s left with downstream. When the fish-kills hit the news, we saw it for what it was—buck-passing and conflicting decisions made by state and federal governments that serve big cotton or other irrigators. When precious water can be bought and sold as a mere commodity, the environment and First Nations people get shafted.” Rob Hirst: “The storyline is based on one of Pete’s greatest challenges from when he was Minister for the Environment: the future of the much-exploited Murray-Darling Basin. The song’s gestation coincided with my artist daughter Gabriella’s ACMI exhibition *Darling Darling* in Melbourne. Her travels to Menindee and along the then-drought-ravaged Barka brought her into contact with artist Uncle Badger Bates and other strong custodians of this once mighty river system. Droughts, climate change, water-thirsty crops, water theft, political favors, water trading, and the arrival of giant, international companies have literally drained the life out of our great national treasure. The Barkandji, who rely on a clean, flowing river for their food, have suffered the most.” **“Tarkine”** Jim Moginie: “Tarkine is such an evocative word. It’s the name of an Aboriginal tribe in north-western Tasmania, high in sacred Aboriginal sites and unique cool-temperate rainforest species. Evelyn Finnerty’s violin part is an unsettled background akin to wind catching the mist of deep forest. Or a glimpse of Allana Beltran’s Weld Angel protest, the queen of the forest coming to life high in the trees to protect this threatened area with terrible anger. If we let governments and overseas interests roll the dice, a plastic snow cone containing the Tarkine forest could be all we have left.” **“At the Time of Writing”** Rob Hirst: “This one fell together quite easily and quickly. It illustrates the deliberate urgency of the song’s climate change theme. The verses are set in the present and reflect our current hopes: ‘We better get together/Our ocean moat protects us/A chance, we’ve only got one.’ The choruses are set in the future, looking back: ‘We were good as dead; we were fast asleep.’ The bridge reverses the narrative halfway through: People blame elected leaders for doing nothing and boasting about it—then those same leaders head for the hills when things go horribly wrong.” **“Nobody’s Child”** Jim Moginie: “A rocker with a riff that I had lying around for about ten years. I was waiting for Midnight Oil to reform and play it because I knew it wouldn’t sound right done any other way. Beauty, love, and compassion are central themes to our music and are in short supply in the world today. Pete supplied the verses and added the most incredible vocal on the demo I’d ever heard him sing, especially in the middle section, which made it onto the final record.” **“To the Ends of the Earth”** Jim Moginie: “‘Every creature drinks from the same cup’ sums this one up, where trees, animals, humans, fungi, or insects all share the same terrarium. As Greta Thunberg says, ‘Some people make it seem as if we’re not doing enough to stop the climate crisis. But that’s not true. Because to not do enough, you have to do something.’ And the truth is that we are basically not doing anything apart from ‘creative carbon accounting’ and creating loopholes. What some call ‘climate action’ is actually outsourcing and excluding consumption, setting vague distant targets, burning biomass instead of fossil fuels and excluding the emissions, offsetting, switching from one disastrous energy source to a slightly less disastrous one.” **“Reef”** Jim Moginie: “When we visited the World Heritage-listed Great Barrier Reef in 2017, Dean from GBR Legacy memorably said, ‘It doesn’t belong to the government, it doesn’t belong to Clive Palmer, it belongs to the people,’ a sentence that stuck in my mind. In 2021, the Australian Government succeeded—with much lobbying and flying around the world in private jets—in taking this endangered and dying reef off the UNESCO endangered list to cover up its own lack of climate action. The song is a tongue-in-cheek look at the bizarre decision-making around the issue. But such a serious subject is no laughing matter. Our governments have often fallen over themselves in giving away our assets to overseas interests, here allowing the building of a coal port and associated dredging in a World Heritage site. A railway between Abbot Point and the mine was proposed. Indian-owned Adani, now rebranded as Bravus Mining & Resources, have a terrible track record in other countries, and here were caught pouring toxic sludge into adjoining wetlands in 2017 and 2019, among other breaches. ‘The sky is a mirror to self-interest and greed,’ indeed.” **“We Resist”** Jim Moginie: “The history of resistance should be taught at school. Without it, we wouldn’t have made the progress we have. The Freedom Ride and Rosa Parks turned the spotlight onto racial issues, which then changed. John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s ‘War Is Over If You Want It’ campaign, hand in hand with the fallout of the Kent State shootings and worldwide mass demonstrations, ended the Vietnam War. Suffragettes marched for women’s rights and undertook hunger strikes, which both Gandhi in India and Irish Nationalists undertook to achieve self-sovereignty. These people were brave enough to ignore the conventional orthodoxy of the time and speak out, often risking their lives in the process. The irony is that successful protesters never worked alone—they were part of strategic, highly connected networks.” **“Lost at Sea”** Rob Hirst: “Australia has a shameful record when it comes to our treatment of refugees escaping wars we’ve been involved in—Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Sri Lanka. I wanted to personalize the issue: Imagine you’re in a leaking boat overloaded with sick, thirsty, desperate people seeking safety on the open ocean. Hope briefly appears, but you’re intercepted by an armed patrol boat and diverted to a hot, crowded prison camp on a remote, tropical island. Now, you’re in a kind of perpetual checkmate—you can’t return to your war-ravaged homeland where you’ll be tortured and/or killed, nor can you ever expect to escape confinement and lead a productive life in a new country. You and your family are the unfortunate victims of opportunistic, racist politicians and their unscrupulous media attack dogs, pursuing policies which are little different from the infamous White Australia policy of a century ago.” **“Undercover”** Peter Garrett: “A thrown-together flood of disparate images in a quick, drive-y song the Oils can get their teeth into, designed to pull us out of the great Aussie torpor. Autumn colors seen out the window, followed by others in the mind’s eye, like the queues of Uyghurs lined up outside Chinese re-education camps, backed up with slinky riffing and a heads-up chorus.” **“We Are Not Afraid”** Jim Moginie: “Fear as a form of psychological control determines the behavior of citizens. It can determine election results, it can take the form of fear of immigrants, new ideas, terrorists. Psychological warfare is as powerful as real warfare. I wrote the song in Spain on a flamenco guitar in 2017. I was surprised when the band chose to take it on. Pete added lyrics that turned it into a Midnight Oil song, especially the lines ‘The rights of those that follow and the living things that feed us/Are greater than the principles of those that lead us/We must be fearless, we must be fearless,’ which were improvised and added on the final day of recording. The song has a spooked-out atmosphere to evoke paranoia—just a nylon-string guitar with wobbly, stuttering echoes and remnants of electric guitars from the demo sitting behind it, and Julian Thompson from the Australian Chamber Orchestra’s beautiful cello part.” **“Last Frontier”** Peter Garrett: “I love being outside, and wide-open spaces in songs is where the listener’s imagination takes over. So, as befitting an album closer, ‘Last Frontier’ has a slow soundscape build, with a few clues to get you into the song’s narrative about an ‘everyman’ trying to make sense of their lives and, holding onto their agency, exercising control in the wild ride we all find ourselves in.”

“When I make records, I make them with the idea that no one else will hear them,” Florence Welch tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “When you get to the realization that this private dialogue is going to be completely public, it’s like I’ve tricked myself again.” On her band’s fifth album *Dance Fever*, such private dialogues include rejecting real love (“Girls Against God”), dance as the greatest form of release (the anxious synth-folk of “Free”), embracing less healthy coping mechanisms in her past (“Morning Elvis”), and the push-pull between a creative career and the possible desire to start a family. “I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king,” Welch declares in baritone on “King,” in which she ponders one of *Dance Fever*’s most prominent themes: her complicated relationship with her own artistry. “A lot of it is questioning what it gives to me as well, and being like, ‘Why do I need this so much, sometimes at the cost of more sustainable forms of intimacy or more stable relationships?’” she says. “I think this record is questioning, ‘How committed am I to my own loneliness? How committed am I to my sense of a tragic figure?’” Work on the album had begun alongside producer Jack Antonoff in New York in early 2020 before the pandemic forced Welch back to London, where her creativity was stifled for six long months. *Dance Fever*, then, also covers writer’s block (the cathartic “My Love,” a track intended to help shake off Welch’s blues, and our own) and her despair of what was lost in a locked-down world. Her lyrics occasionally poke fun at the image she has created of herself (“I think there\'s a humor also in self-knowledge that runs through this record that I\'ve actually found really liberating,” says Welch), but they are often as strikingly vulnerable as on 2018’s *High as Hope*. And even if the singer admits on “King” that she is “never satisfied,” her band’s fifth album has brought her rare peace. “I feel like I managed to take everything that I learned in the last 15 years and consolidate it into this record, into this art, into the videos,” she says. “I felt like, if I had to prove something to myself, somehow I did it on this record.” Read on as Welch talks us through a selection of tracks on *Dance Fever*. **“King”** “Sometimes songs just arrive fully formed, and it\'s always when you think you\'ll never write a song again. I felt like my creative abilities were finally at the peak of how I understood myself as an artist and what I wanted to do. But if I wanted to have a family, there was this sense that suddenly I was being irresponsible with my time by choosing this thing that I\'ve known my whole life, which is performance, which is making songs, which is striving to be the best performer that I can be. Somehow, it would be your fault if you miss the boat. I think that scream at the end of ‘King,’ it\'s just one of frustration, and confusion as well. I was thinking about Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen. I was thinking about how they can commit their body entirely to the stage. I was like, ‘Oh my god, I\'m not going to be able to do that. I\'m going to have to make choices.’ It\'s a statement of confidence, but also of humor that the album has, of ‘If I\'m going to sacrifice these other things in my life, I have to be the best.’ I was like, ‘Why not me? Why can\'t I be king?’” **“Free”** “I think out of all the Florence + the Machine songs, it\'s sort of the purest sentiment of why I do it, distilled into why music is so important to me, why I need it, why performance is so important to me. Sometimes you just know a song is working: When we started playing it before it had even come out, just this ripple started in the audience of people catching onto the chorus and starting to move. And it was one of those moments where I was like, ‘Oh, this is a special one. This is really hitting something in people.’ And that\'s so magical for me. That\'s when the celebration starts.” **“Daffodil”** “I thought I\'d lost my mind, because I remember coming home and being like, ‘Okay, I wrote a song today. It might be the most Florence + the Machine thing I\'ve ever done. We\'re a year into the pandemic, I think maybe I\'m losing it. The chorus is just “daffodil” over and over again.’ I was like, ‘Can you do that? That\'s a crazy thing to do.’ There were so many moments where I had nearly gave up on this record. There were so many moments where I nearly went, ‘It just feels like the way that the world is, this is just too hard to finish.’” **“The Bomb”** “There\'s a lot of nods, I think, to the previous records. All three of them are in this album, which is nice. Because I feel like somehow I\'m bridging the gaps between all of them on this record, like all the things I\'ve been interested in. This song is nodding to what I was thinking about, in terms of unavailability in people, in *High as Hope* in songs like ‘Big God,’ with like the obsession of someone who\'ll never text you back. Why is the person who creates the most space and gives you nothing the most appealing person? And really that\'s because if you\'re a songwriter, they give you the most enormous space for fantasy and you can write anything you want because they don\'t really exist. Every time I think in my life I\'ve been in a stable place, something or someone will come up and be like, ‘How do you feel about blowing all this up?’ It\'s also a fear of growing up and a fear of getting older, because if you regenerate yourself constantly through other people by blowing up, changing everything, you never have to face aging or death.” **“Morning Elvis”** “I\'m obsessed with Nick Cave as a performer, but the performer he\'s obsessed with is Elvis. So that\'s how it feeds back to me. I was at home and stuck and there was an Elvis documentary. It made me remember us, when we were on tour in New Orleans, it would have maybe been on the second record. The wheels were really coming off for me, in terms of drinking and partying. I just got very in the spirit of New Orleans and was at a party and just went, \'You all leave without me, I\'m staying at this party.\' I ended up with my dress completely shredded, because I\'m always wearing these vintage things that basically just disintegrate: If you’re on a rager, you will come back with nothing. You would\'ve thought things were going so well for me. What was it about me that had such a death wish? I had such little care for myself. It didn\'t matter what I had done the night before, or the week before, or what chaos I had created, I knew if I got to the stage, something there would save me and that I would be absolved. And that song is about that feeling, but also a testament to all the performers I\'ve seen turn pain into something so beautiful.”

“I literally don’t take breaks,” ROSALÍA tells Apple Music. “I feel like, to work at a certain level, to get a certain result, you really need to sacrifice.” Judging by *MOTOMAMI*, her long-anticipated follow-up to 2018’s award-winning and critically acclaimed *EL MAL QUERER*, the mononymous Spanish singer clearly put in the work. “I almost feel like I disappear because I needed to,” she says of maintaining her process in the face of increased popularity and attention. “I needed to focus and put all my energy and get to the center to create.” At the same time, she found herself drawing energy from bustling locales like Los Angeles, Miami, and New York, all of which she credits with influencing the new album. Beyond any particular source of inspiration that may have driven the creation of *MOTOMAMI*, ROSALÍA’s come-up has been nothing short of inspiring. Her transition from critically acclaimed flamenco upstart to internationally renowned star—marked by creative collaborations with global tastemakers like Bad Bunny, Billie Eilish, and Oneohtrix Point Never, to name a few—has prompted an artistic metamorphosis. Her ability to navigate and dominate such a wide array of musical styles only raised expectations for her third full-length, but she resisted the idea of rushing things. “I didn’t want to make an album just because now it’s time to make an album,” she says, citing that several months were spent on mixing and visuals alone. “I don’t work like that.” Some three years after *EL MAL QUERER*, ROSALÍA’s return feels even more revolutionary than that radical breakout release. From the noisy-yet-referential leftfield reggaetón of “SAOKO” to the austere and *Yeezus*-reminiscent thump of “CHICKEN TERIYAKI,” *MOTOMAMI* makes the artist’s femme-forward modus operandi all the more clear. The point of view presented is sharp and political, but also permissive of playfulness and wit, a humanizing mix that makes the album her most personal yet. “I was like, I really want to find a way to allow my sense of humor to be present,” she says. “It’s almost like you try to do, like, a self-portrait of a moment of who you are, how you feel, the way you think.\" Things get deeper and more unexpected with the devilish-yet-austere electronic punk funk of the title track and the feverish “BIZCOCHITO.” But there are even more twists and turns within, like “HENTAI,” a bilingual torch song that charms and enraptures before giving way to machine-gun percussion. Add to that “LA FAMA,” her mystifying team-up with The Weeknd that fuses tropical Latin rhythms with avant-garde minimalism, and you end up with one of the most unique artistic statements of the decade so far.

If The Smile ever seemed like a surprisingly upbeat name for a band containing two members of Radiohead (Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood, joined by Sons of Kemet drummer Tom Skinner), the trio used their debut gig to offer some clarification. Performing as part of Glastonbury Festival’s Live at Worthy Farm livestream in May 2021, Yorke announced, “We are called The Smile: not The Smile as in ‘Aaah!’—more the smile of the guy who lies to you every day.” To grasp the mood of their debut album, it’s instructive to go even deeper into a name that borrows the title of a 1970 Ted Hughes poem. In Hughes’ impressionist verse, some elemental force—compassion, humanity, love maybe—rises up to resist the deception and chicanery behind such disarming grins. And as much as the 13 songs on *A Light for Attracting Attention* sense crisis and dystopia looming, they also crackle with hope and insurrection. The pulsing electronics of opener “The Same” suggest the racing hearts and throbbing temples of our age of acute anxiety, and Yorke’s words feel like a call for unity and mobilization: “We don’t need to fight/Look towards the light/Grab it in with both hands/What you know is right.” Perennially contemplating the dynamics of power and thought, he surveys a world where “devastation has come” (“Speech Bubbles”) under the rule of “elected billionaires” (“The Opposite”), but it’s one where protest, however extreme, can still birth change (“The Smoke”). Amid scathing guitars and outbursts of free jazz, his invective zooms in on abuses of power (“You Will Never Work in Television Again”) before shaming inertia and blame-shifters on the scurrying beats and descending melodies of “A Hairdryer.” These aren’t exactly new themes for Yorke and it’s not a record that sits at an extreme outpost of Radiohead’s extended universe. Emboldened by Skinner’s fluid, intrepid rhythms, *A Light for Attracting Attention* draws frequently on various periods of Yorke and Greenwood’s past work. The emotional eloquence of Greenwood’s soundtrack projects resurfaces on “Speech Bubbles” and “Pana-Vision,” while Yorke’s fascination with digital reveries continues to be explored on “Open the Floodgates” and “The Same.” Elegantly cloaked in strings, “Free in the Knowledge” is a beautiful acoustic-guitar ballad in the lineage of Radiohead’s “Fake Plastic Trees” and the original live version of “True Love Waits.” Of course, lesser-trodden ground is visited, too: most intriguingly, math-rock (“Thin Thing”) and folk songs fit for a ’70s sci-fi drama (“Waving a White Flag”). The album closes with “Skrting on the Surface,” a song first aired at a 2009 show Yorke played with Atoms for Peace. With Greenwood’s guitar arpeggios and Yorke’s aching falsetto, it calls back even further to *The Bends*’ finale, “Street Spirit (Fade Out).” However, its message about the fragility of existence—“When we realize we have only to die, then we’re out of here/We’re just skirting on the surface”—remains sharply resonant.

The Smile will release their highly anticipated debut album A Light For Attracting Attention on 13 May, 2022 on XL Recordings. The 13- track album was produced and mixed by Nigel Godrich and mastered by Bob Ludwig. Tracks feature strings by the London Contemporary Orchestra and a full brass section of contempoarary UK jazz players including Byron Wallen, Theon and Nathaniel Cross, Chelsea Carmichael, Robert Stillman and Jason Yarde. The band, comprising Radiohead’s Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood and Sons of Kemet’s Tom Skinner, have previously released the singles You Will Never Work in Television Again, The Smoke, and Skrting On The Surface to critical acclaim.

The Beths’ third album finds the Aotearoa indie rockers tighter and brighter than ever, packing chiming melodies and big, buoyant choruses. Elizabeth Stokes’ poignant vocals and diaristic lyrics continue to translate everyday foibles into memorable asides (“Here I go again, mixing drinks and messages”), while lead guitarist Jonathan Pearce proves animated at every turn (see the wild splay of a solo capping off “Silence Is Golden”). For all its noisy freshness, *Expert in a Dying Field* also plays like a studied parallel to the classic power-pop songbook, dispensing sunny harmonies and sharp dynamic shifts. Recorded mostly in Pearce’s own studio, this outing sees all of the band’s strengths balanced across the board. That means Stokes’ witticisms enjoy just as much attention as the fuzzy push-and-pull of the music, alternately driving ahead and pulling back with increasing precision. Stokes may label herself an expert in a dying field when singing about love on the opening title track, but The Beths make whip-smart indie rock look like a flourishing profession indeed.

On The Beths’ new album Expert In A Dying Field, Elizabeth Stokes’ songwriting positions her somewhere between being a novelist and a documentarian. The songs collected here are autobiographical, but they’re also character sketches of relationships -- platonic, familial, romantic -- and more importantly, their aftermaths. The shapes and ghosts left in absences. The question that hangs in the air: what do you do with how intimately versed you’ve become in a person, once they’re gone from your life? The third LP from the New Zealand quartet houses 12 jewels of tight, guitar-heavy songs that worm their way into your head, an incandescent collision of power-pop and skuzz. With Expert, The Beths wanted to make an album meant to be experienced live, for both the listeners and themselves. They wanted it to be fun in spite of the prickling anxiety throughout the lyrics, the fear of change and struggle to cope. Most of Expert was recorded at guitarist Jonathan Pearce’s studio on Karangahape Road in Ta–maki Makaurau, Aotearoa (Auckland, New Zealand) toward the end of 2021, until they were interrupted by a four-month national lockdown. They traded notes remotely for months, songwriting from afar and fleshing out the arrangements alone. The following February The Beths left the country to tour across the US, and simultaneously finish mixing the album on the road, culminating in a chaotic three-day studio mad-dash in Los Angeles. There, Expert finally became the record they were hearing in their heads. The album’s title track “Expert In A Dying Field” introduces the thesis for the record: “How does it feel to be an expert in a dying field? How do you know it’s over when you can’t let go?” Stokes asks. “Love is learned over time ‘til you’re an expert in a dying field.” The rest is a capsule of The Beths’ most electrifying and exciting output, a sonic spectrum: “Silence is Golden,” with its propulsive drum line and stop-start staccato of a guitar line winding up and down, is one of the band’s sharpest and most driving. “Knees Deep” was written last minute, but yields one of the best guitar lines on Expert. Stokes strings it all together through her singular songwriting lens, earnest and selfeffacing, zeroing in on the granules of doubt and how they snowball. Did I do the wrong thing? Or did you? That insecurity and thoughtfulness, translated into universality and understanding, has been the guiding light of The Beths’ output since 2016. In the face of pain, there’s no dwelling on internal anguish -- instead, through The Beths’ music, our shortcomings are met with acceptance. And Expert In A Dying Field is the most tactile that tenderness has been.

On his third solo album, Fred Gibson (better known as Fred again..) returns with his fingers firmly on the pulse of everything around him. Rounding out a deeply personal trilogy, *Actual Life 3* sees the London-based producer, DJ, and singer-songwriter once more thrive on the challenges of sound reinvention and renewal. “I think the feeling that I’ve become really obsessed with is taking very fleeting moments and exposing as much beauty as is in them,” he tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “You know how sometimes if you see something in normal timing, and then you see it in slow-mo, like, ‘Oh wow. There\'s a whole new emotional framing for this.’” Fred first envisioned this unique narrative in 2020 for his debut, *Actual Life*, released over lockdown as a remedy to the melancholic uncertainty of the time. Delivering three distinct chapters across 2021, the BRIT Award-winning producer (and longtime mentee of Brian Eno) dives deeper in his cache of bright snippets and samples from everyday scenes, fusing soul, R&B, and bass house elements for jaw-droppingly euphoric and intimate tracks. “Sometimes I’m conscious of it and sometimes I’m not,” he says. “But one thing I know is that when I’m there, I make loads of ideas.” Much of this LP was made on the move, via long airport stops, tube journeys, or lunchtime breaks. And, like its predecessors, this collection is predominantly influenced by this process, with tracks labeled after the people he’s worked with, or the inspirations behind them. Here, Gibson draws euphoria from fleeting emotions, filtering vocals from names including London rapper and singer BERWYN, Toronto poet Mustafa Ahmed, and G.O.O.D Music’s 070 Shake across woozy synths and deep, intrepid basslines. But *Actual Life 3* also differs in its greater worldly experience. As is the case with hits he’s penned for the likes of Ed Sheeran, BTS, George Ezra, and Stormzy, tracks including “Delilah (pull me out of this)” (sampling Delilah Montagu’s 2021 single “Lost Keys”) and “Bleu (better with time)” (slicing verses from Yung Bleu’s 2020 track “You’re Mines Still”) arrive with the boost of rapturous unveilings at Gibson’s online DJ sets and gig slots. Although getting the music to people’s ears on these occasions offered an ideal proving ground for his blossoming tracks, it was moments of solitude that gave him the most to work with. “When you\'re on your own,” he explains, “you can just be in the world—any place that gives you a conveyor belt of humanity, buzzing away in the background, often when there\'s a bubbling undercurrent of slight excitement, I think that’s just the ultimate gift.”

DJ/producer Teneil Throssell calls her debut album under the alias HAAi “a hyperactive journey that feels like a real reflection of who I am.” While that description rings true in some of her frantic breakbeats and other concussive blasts, Throssell also excels at downtempo softness and many subtle textures in between those poles. Formerly the guitarist/vocalist for Sydney, Australia, shoegaze trio Dark Bells, she relocated to London and made a name for herself as a DJ thanks to meticulous crate-digging and trippy flourishes she adds to her sets. Both qualities shine on this album, with lead single “Bodies of Water” memorably contrasting Throssell’s slow, dreamy vocals with crackling techno motifs. *Baby, We’re Ascending* also boasts high-profile collaborators, from ambient keyboardist/composer Jon Hopkins on the radiant title track to Hot Chip’s Alexis Taylor on the string-swept “Biggest Mood Ever.” Meanwhile, spoken-word poet Kai-Isaiah Jamal and singer Obi Franky hold hypnotic sway over assorted slippery contours on “Human Sound.”

“I\'ve made an album about fear and shame, it’s definitely been uncomfortable,” Oliver Sim tells Apple Music. As one third of British indie electronic group The xx, Sim—alongside bandmates Romy Madley Croft and producer Jamie xx—became adept at writing sparse and haunting love songs. For his solo debut, however, he turned his gaze inward to confront the internalized shame that has colored his life. “Initially, it was like, why would I want to share the things that I think make me feel hideous in some way?” he says. “But concealing that hasn’t really worked for me in the past. If anything, the whole idea of concealing things just feeds into shame.” Here, Sim gets straight into it: The album’s first track, “Hideous”—which features guest vocals from queer pop music royalty Jimmy Somerville—sees Sim share for the first time that he’s been living with HIV since he was 17 years old. “My whole way of navigating my status was just control,” Sim says. “I know exactly who knew and if they told anybody else. But writing that down was a real ‘fuck it’ moment.” For the record, Sim worked almost exclusively with bandmate Jamie xx. “It would have been a very different album if I\'d made it with somebody else,” he says. “Jamie\'s been my friend since I was 11 years old. I don\'t think I would have been as vulnerable with someone else. Also, he\'s a straight man and he got involved in some real queer conversations. He just had no ego. He was making my world come to life.” Part of that involved indulging Sim’s love of horror films—he has created an entire short horror film to accompany the album with director Yann Gonzalez—but also helping Sim to unpack his experiences with homophobia, loneliness, and self-sabotage. “I got worried that this record was going to be perceived as perpetuating the idea of self-loathing gay men, which would just be this downer,” Sim says. “But this whole process, and how I see the record, is not a downer. It’s the opposite of shame. It’s not hiding.” Read on for Oliver Sim’s track-by-track guide to *Hideous Bastard*. **“Hideous”** “Jimmy Somerville became my pen pal quite a few months before I asked him to appear on the song. I\'ve known that voice all my life, but as an adult I’ve come to understand what he represented and everything he’s done. He’s been so visible and vocal about queer issues for such a long time. I think I wanted some of that fearlessness. When I finally asked him to be a part of the song, I expected him to be quite militant and for the cause, but he was very gentle with me. He was like, ‘I hope you\'re doing this for yourself.’ He also said, ‘I’m 60, so don’t be expecting me to hit those high notes.’ But he came in and the moment he started singing, Jamie and I cried. His voice is incredible. It\'s so strong and in person it’s really loud.” **“Romance With a Memory”** “For this album I’ve done a lot of playing around with my voice. I have only ever sung in duet with Romy—if I step out of that, where can my voice go? I love trying to see how high can my voice go or how low can my voice go, even if I\'m pitching it down to a point of it either sounding like a parody of what a masculine voice would sound like to it being totally demonic. I like hearing male voices sing together. There is something very masculine about it, but also something romantic and tender, too. The whole idea of men harmonizing together, I think, is quite queer.” **“Sensitive Child”** “This is something that I’ve definitely been called. It’s definitely a euphemism for a certain type of kid, in particular a little boy. I think hearing it as an adult, and as a gay man, brings up a lot of childhood feelings of not being acknowledged. It’s also probably one of the fullest songs I’ve ever made. Normally, for me songs start as words on a piece of paper, but this started with a Del Shannon song called ‘Break Up’ and then I did all the writing around that. I\'m the kind of person that spends months on a song, but this song happened very quickly. I see this as quite an angry song.” **“Never Here”** “I talk a lot about memory on this album, and this song asks the question of just how reliable my memory can be and how, maybe, technology warps how I remember things. It\'s also, sonically, one of the heaviest songs on the record, which was really fun for me. The music that I really got into as a teenager was either from my sister\'s record collection, which was just mid-’90s American R&B like Aaliyah, TLC, En Vogue, and Ginuwine, or it was heavy music like Placebo and Queens of the Stone Age. It was fun to get into that a bit more with \'Never Here\' and to scream. I think that\'s the few times that I\'ve allowed myself to scream, which is a real release.” **“Unreliable Narrator”** “I\'ve come into this record with just tons and tons of questions, but not necessarily the answers. I wrote this song as, in my head, this album is a movie, and this was a plot point I wanted halfway through the record. It was inspired by this monologue Bret Easton Ellis wrote for Patrick Bateman in *American Psycho*. In the film, it\'s where Christian Bale\'s doing his 14-step morning routine and about how he’s not really there. I’m not a psychopath, but I think that idea of facade and wearing a mask, to any degree, is so relatable. I also thought halfway through this film of my album if I was to admit that anything I could be saying is unreliable would be quite fun.” **“Saccharine”** “I’ve made my whole career on love songs—that is my home. For this record, I’ve tried not to write too many love songs because I think that I could have done a lot of hiding if I did. But to me, this song is still quite revealing about myself. It has much more to do with myself than anyone else; it’s my fear of intimacy. I didn’t want this album to be sweet. It could have a sense of humor, but it had to be savage. This is very much about my inner saboteur and how I react when things become too sweet.” **“Confident Man”** “It’s funny: At school, I felt like an outsider because of my sexuality. I didn’t know I was gay at primary school, but it was always made apparent that I was a bit of a dandy. I was never invited to play football. I didn’t want to play football—I hate football—but it’s not nice to not be included, especially when I’m drawn to these boys for reasons I didn’t quite understand. But then, to experience that as an adult within the gay community, a community of outsiders… I don’t know. There’s that feeling of performative masculinity and of what confidence actually looks like. I think there’s something very insecure about feeling like you have to perform masculinity. What do people actually even consider masculinity? I think there’s something very confident about saying, ‘I don’t feel so confident.’” **“GMT”** “Jamie and I had gone to Australia. This was before COVID and we’d started the record. I had gone there to bypass the English winter because seasonal depression is real. We\'d started in Sydney and we road-tripped down to Byron Bay just listening to lots of music. We were listening to The Beach Boys and I started singing things in the car. When we got to Byron Bay, we ended up sampling The Beach Boys on the song. I was in this beautiful sunshine yet still pining for London a little bit. I think there is an inherent melancholy about London, which has been the driving force for so much amazing creativity. This was a jet-lagged love song about London.” **“Fruit”** “Funny enough, this is the hardest song to explain, because I think it kind of says it all. It\'s the very *Drag Race* moment of ‘What would you say to five-year-old Oliver?’ So it is talking to five-year-old me, but it\'s also very much talking to me today, because there is a part of me that is still five years old. I’m still a sensitive child, but now I’m hearing the things that I would want to hear.” **“Run the Credits”** “When I was talking about ‘Unreliable Narrator’ being a plot point, this was the song I wrote exactly for the end of the album. It was the note that I want to end on and mirrors the scariest thing I find in cinema, which is the open-ended ending. A Disney-style bow to close everything is so tempting, but there is nothing scarier than leaving it open-ended. Your imagination\'s always going to tailor-make the scariest outcome.”

Hideous Bastard, the debut album from Oliver Sim—best known for his work as songwriter, bassist,and vocalist of The xx—is set for release on September 9th via Young. Produced by bandmate Jamie xx, Hideous Bastard is the culmination of two years of writing and recording, inspired by Sim’s love of horror movies and his own life experience, unpacking themes of shame, fear, and masculinity. These themes are front and centre on new single “Hideous”. Enlisting the help of lifelong hero and “guardian angel”Jimmy Somerville on guest vocals, the single sets the scene for the forthcoming album and sees Sim speaking publicly for the first time that he’s been living with HIV since the age of seventeen. It debuts with a video by another personal hero, French director Yann Gonzalez, who has also collaborated with Sim on a forthcoming queer horror short film of the same name that premiered yesterday as part of the Semaine de la Critiqueat the Cannes Film Festival.

Coming off the back of 2019’s excellent *The Book of Traps and Lessons* and the critically acclaimed play *Paradise* at London’s National Theatre in 2021, MC and poet Kae Tempest’s fourth album is their most ambitious, personal, and open to date. Made with longtime collaborator and producer Dan Carey, the record moves in a series of bold musical and thematic suites that take in collaborators including Lianne La Havas, South London rapper Confucius MC, Fontaines D.C.’s Grian Chatten, and BROCKHAMPTON’s Kevin Abstract. *The Line Is a Curve* is about letting go of the anxieties and fears that hold you back and embracing life’s cyclical nature. “This record is meant to symbolize a journey through different pressures,” says Tempest, “whether it’s the pressures of a relationship, or trying to survive and build the name for yourself, or just trying to get through the day. It will mean something different to everybody, but that’s the beauty of language.” Here, they talk us through *The Line Is a Curve*, track by track. **“Priority Boredom”** “It’s an evocation of a feeling that I imagine we all are familiar with, which is the relentless pressure of existence and the forces competing for our attention. It’s meant to plunge you directly into the experience of the dull numbness and the claustrophobia of life in the present moment. What it’s saying is this race to death that we call progress or happiness or the pursuit of normal activity, happy families, or whatever the value system is that we’ve swallowed up and are trying to recreate is actually extremely taxing for the individual and also for the community. It’s quite sarcastic in its own way. It’s meant to be knowing rather than an actual description of our lives.” **“I Saw Light” (feat. Grian Chatten)** “I’ve wanted to work with Grian ever since I met him. My desire was to have Grian’s voice contributing a poem because I feel him in that way, as a poet. When you put somebody else’s words alongside yours, you create this friction between the verses that creates new meaning. It gives the words a new energy, a new dimension. Grian putting his words down transformed and affected the verse that I had already written. It’s beautiful.” **“Nothing to Prove”** “It’s a statement song. It’s powerful in its musicality. I love the beat. The first and the second verses are absolutely phonetically matched. There is communication going on between the transformations in the lyric as it begins in one way, and then as it transforms in the other way, so you have this kind of call-and-response between two verses. For me as a writer, a rhymer, and a lyricist, to be doing that on a record is an embodiment of having nothing to prove. It’s like, ‘Here, look what this song is doing.’ It’s like this chorus, musicality, lyricism, flow that are all saying the same thing. There’s nothing to prove—it’s all to play for.” **“No Prizes” (feat. Lianne La Havas)** “It’s close-up portraits of three characters and Lianne’s voice is the overarching theme or the undercurrent of what is common with all of them. The same thing that is occurring for them all, and all of us, in this world where we’ve set the album—where the dominant mythology says, ‘I’ve just got to keep climbing, and I don’t know why.’ I’ve known Lianne for a long time, and I love her voice passionately. There’s mutual respect and friendship there, and it just felt like the right time to try and bring some of that energy through into the record.” **“Salt Coast”** “It’s a love letter to Britain. Within my imagination, this island was embodied as this kid, this young girl. I suppose I was thinking about my childhood. I was thinking about the people I knew and loved as a kid, the people that made the most profound impact on me, and also the particular Britishness of that time. It’s acknowledging all of the complexities of loving home. It’s a complex place to love but, for me, it’s no less beautiful than any other. It’s home. I’ve gone deeply into why this soil feels the way it feels to me. I really want it to be the unofficial England World Cup anthem. Imagine that on the terraces.” **“Don’t You Ever”** “Kwake Bass plays the drums. We’ve been friends since childhood. He’s one of the greatest drummers of our generation, I think. The guitar part is by this guy Luke \[Eastop\]. We were all in a band together when we were about 19 years old, and the music on this, not the lyrics, was something that we used to play together when we were doing all of these hippie festivals. I just thought to myself on this record, ‘I want to get everybody together again. I want us to play together, and I want to do a kind of grown-up version of that song.’ Because it’s a fucking brilliant song.” **“These Are the Days”** “This is one that me and Dan wrote together in this weird studio lockdown situation. It’s this big, epic production, but we were writing it on a very minimized kit. We knew we wanted to do it live, so when the band came in to do ‘Don’t You Ever,’ we also did ‘These Are the Days’ with all of the horns and the same crew playing the bass and the drums. That had a huge impact on it. It’s us saying, ‘Yeah, these are the days, this is the time, let’s fucking play this song!’” **“Smoking” (feat. Confucius MC)** “When I started rapping—and I’m talking about 15, 16 years old—Confucius was instrumental in guiding me. His lyricism was profound for me. We were in a crew together, and he was an important person in my creative life. If it wasn’t for those people, I would not be here, so I wanted to bring my community into my creativity. It sounds the way it does because I recorded it backstage at a festival and sent it to Dan as a voice note, which I often do.” **“Water in the Rain” (feat. Assia)** “It’s kind of setting myself free from some stuff that I’ve been suffering from with poor mental health. I think sometimes singing about it, just describing it and going into the experience of it, can take some of the fear out of what you experience when you’re experiencing it in isolation. It’s a profound moment on the album for me.” **“Move”** “I think of the album as a series of suites. You start with ‘Smoking’ and all of the themes that come up in that and then you move into ‘Water in the Rain,’ which is this unleashing of deep emotion, which then opens up the space for us to get to ‘Move.’ ‘Move’ is a response to what’s come before. I’ve connected with the tenderness, so now I can really dig deep and find my strength. This is the time to get up off the floor and stand up for yourself. The idea of ‘Move’ is that you earn that strength by being that vulnerable. It’s a fight song. I might be losing right now, but I’m not going to give up.” **“More Pressure” (feat. Kevin Abstract)** “*The Line Is a Curve* builds its momentum. It’s like a wave: You build up all of this galvanizing spirit of fight, and that’s what enables you to reframe the narrative of the pressures that you’re under. Now you can say, ‘Right, I get it. I’m under all this pressure, but I’m going to use all this pressure, and I’m going to use this energy to make change and cultivate greater acceptance.’ It’s all part of this swell that begins at the start of the record. Rick Rubin suggested that I give Kevin a shout. It’s not quite as close to home as the other collaborations, which are very much based in South London, but it opens the record up a bit more and, hopefully, allows more people in.” **“Grace”** “It’s like a prayer. It’s this repeated refrain that comes back to me. When I’m in need, I go back to those words: ‘Let me be loved. Let me be loving.’ I would say those words to myself before going out onstage to do a performance of *The Book of Traps and Lessons*. It’s become something to keep me grounded. It feels really fitting that this song came out of the sessions making this album, but then it’s something that had its place in other works that I’ve done. Dan is playing the synth line to ‘Priority Boredom’ on the guitar, so it leads you back around in a circle. It’s such a gentle, tender way of finishing the album.”

Folky, direct soul-pop and balladry made Paolo Nutini famous as a teen during the mid-2000s, but it was his adventurousness that quickly separated him from other British singer-songwriters emerging at that time. When second album *Sunny Side Up* arrived in 2009, he was drawing on ska, Dixieland jazz, country, and doo-wop, before 2014’s *Caustic Love* played out like an expansive history of soul and R&B. From the start, *Last Night in the Bittersweet* reveals the Scotsman’s horizons have only broadened during the intervening eight years. “Afterneath” begins the album with feedback, motorik rhythms, and Tarantino samples as Nutini’s spoken-word lyrics herald “a deep dive into an open mind.” From there, the songs circle around New Wave (“Petrified in Love”), epic indie rock (“Shine a Light”), and hymnal, muted electronica (“Stranded Words \[Interlude\]”). At the heart of it all is Nutini’s voice. Precociously expressive and versatile from day one, it’s aged handsomely, sounding more lived-in than ever. Here, he contemplates regret, anxiety, optimism, and love as it both blossoms and falters. When the record ends on its most unadorned moment, the gentle folk ballad “Writer,” Nutini sings, “I am your writer who bleeds indecision.” It’s that restless, capricious spirit that continues to make him such an absorbing artist.

Learning to channel her intensity in lockdown was where Amber Mark began to fuse together ideas for her much-anticipated debut album, *Three Dimensions Deep*. “It was like putting pieces of a puzzle together,” the singer-songwriter tells Apple Music. “I had these songs. I didn’t have a concept or know exactly where I wanted to go with it all. So, on a paper to-go bag, from some food I had got delivered, I began to section it out into three clear parts.” For her deeply ruminative record, Mark soars through a galaxy of stirring anthems, helmed primarily by producer Julian Bunetta (a key part of One Direction’s hitmaking machine). “He’s my sensei,” she says, “and one of the only producers that I work with. My anxiety means I tend to make music by myself, but I left my comfort zone for this album. I used to be very against the idea of writing camps, but trusted Julian, and agreed to do one, which was so amazing.” On her endearing quest for healing, Mark embraces stages of grief (“One”), loss (“Healing Hurts”), and deep insecurity (“On & On”), advancing her sound and herself under the sharp light of futurist-feel R&B. “There’s been so much growth involved whilst making this album,” she says. “Just through the different points in my life—losing my mother, moving around. But since 2020, I’ve just been seeing the world differently.” Read on for her insights on each track from her debut album. **“One”** “I started really questioning myself at the start of 2019. You go into business with others, and you won’t always agree on things. So, this song initially came from a state of anger; I was angry, and I wanted to get it out. I’ve been attracted to the idea of rap-singing more, and lyrically, this is the perfect song to dip my toe in with and experiment.” **“What It Is”** “I’m a sucker for big, very in-your-face harmonies. I had just seen the Bee Gees film \[*The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend A Broken Heart*\] and was so inspired by their journey. I remember writing this in one day. It’s a very bold song for me, and it started with writing out what this album means, conceptually.” **“Most Men”** “I wanted to express on the conversations you have with friends, trying to console them after a breakup, after something fucked up went down. And it’s always advice that I give to myself: ‘You need to be able to find happiness on your own—find the joy of being alone in these moments.’” **“Healing Hurts”** “I had just gone through a breakup, and I’m kind of processing on this song. After my mom passed away, that period showed me that time is the ultimate healer. And, as I know that, I know I’ll move on from this and get over the heartbreak. But right now, I’m in my bed, and I’m emotional!” **“Bubbles”** “This is also quite specific to the breakup—the aftermath. ‘Push those feelings aside, go out, and have fun.’ We wrote this at the \[writing\] retreat—where we all became close really quickly. We had dinners and got to know each other. It was like taking a vacation with great friends, except they would all be doing tequila shots. I used to, in my late teens, early twenties, but the idea doesn’t appeal to me anymore. I’m *always* down for a glass of bubbles, though, and somehow that became the joke of the trip.” **“Softly”** “When I was younger, living in Nepal, I had a very, very intense Craig David obsession. The beauty stores sold bootleg CDs there, and I bought his first two albums. I heard \[2001 single\] ‘Rendezvous’ quite recently on a summer day in New York and fell in love with it again. That synthesized harp is such a big staple of the early-’00s sound. I was like, ‘I need to sample this shit! We have to bring this back.’” **“FOMO”** “I was starting to have a little bit of cabin fever whilst \[writing\], a little frustrated at not getting anywhere. Looking at my friend’s \[Instagram\] Stories—they’re out, having fun, doing shit, and I’m missing all these amazing opportunities to be with them. So, I ended up getting inspiration from that—staying home and wrote this song about it.” **“Turnin’ Pages”** “This is where we really start to address my inner turmoil. This is the next chapter.” **“Foreign Things”** “Because the feeling of running away and leaving life behind is something that’s *so* tempting—this is about being faced with those problems, head-on, when you can longer hide or escape from them.” **“On & On”** “This song is a long-standing favorite of mine on the album. This touches on a lot of old insecurities and the ways I was dealing with them, which was not working. So, in need of a sign, this is where my mom comes into play: She would always say, ‘You have to surrender to the issues that you’re dealing with.’” **“Out of This World”** “This is the introduction to section three, essentially. Another ‘mom’ song, but here, things start getting a little spacey, sonically. The song is from her perspective, and it’s her talking to me, trying to console me.” **“Cosmic”** “I love playing with the idea of higher dimensions, associating them with the afterlife or the soul, because so many scientists have theories that prove they exist. They have the math for it but can’t portray it. So, I’m tapping more into the spirituality of science here.” **“Darkside”** “OK, I am *obsessed* with super-cheesy ’80s sounds, especially the really wet snares. And I was inspired by a really beautiful song I Shazamed in my yoga class. I went home, sampled it, and that was the start of this track. In my head, the approach was, ‘How can I make this sound like a really weird Prince, Phil Collins, and Michael Jackson love child?’” **“Worth It”** “I wrote this after releasing \[2020 single\] ‘Generous.’ People loved it, but I also received comments like, ‘Ah, it’s a different sound!’ ‘It’s not the same Amber Mark. I miss \[2017 EP\] *3:33am* Amber.’ So, I made a beat, thinking, ‘Oh, y’all want old Amber Mark? Fuck y’all. I’m going to make a beat that sounds exactly like her.’ I was giving them what they wanted…in an angry way.” **“Competition”** “This is another from a writing camp. On one of the nights, we decided to separate into teams and play a game. We had to write a song in 30 minutes, and I was also the judge, which was weird, as I was playing. But this song we ended up choosing as the best. It’s all about how it’s not actually competition. Wouldn’t it be better if we all work together?” **“Bliss”** “This is the comedown from the out-of-body experience, sonically. It’s about that euphoric state that you never even imagined possible. I was really falling in love at the time we wrote this. I’d never experienced anything like it. I wanted to talk about it. I mean, I didn’t even know this stage even existed.” **“Event Horizon”** “We were in mixing mode \[on the album\] when I wrote this. A really close friend of mine, Lincoln Bliss, sent me some stuff he had worked on to a BPM; I ask all my really talented musician friends to just send me shit I can try to make a beat from. He wrote this beautiful guitar riff that sounded like a lullaby. Normally, I sing gibberish for a few hours before I start writing. I tried to come up with the melody, but I wanted it to feel like a dream state. So, I’m also musing on some key questions I have about the universe. And finally, I ask, ‘What is the end when there is no time?’”

Meg Mac was weeks away from releasing the first single off her third full-length when she pulled the plug. “I ended up throwing the whole album out and stopping the release of the single,” she tells Apple Music. “It just didn’t feel right.” Admitting she had a meltdown, Mac moved from Sydney to a cottage in the small town of Burrawang in the New South Wales Southern Highlands to take stock. There, she returned to the original voice memos of the songs she’d recorded for the discarded LP, the magic of which she felt had been lost in their finished form. Some she rewrote, but for the most part, Mac started again as she struggled to make sense of her situation. With production work handled largely by LA duo The Donuts, the singer emerged from Burrawang with a record she could stand behind, one that merges her dark soul- and R&B-indebted sound with some of her most confessional lyrics to date. “I feel really happy that I chose to make this album,” she says. “Because it could have not existed, and I love it so much, and I don’t have any regrets about it. No matter what happens, I feel good about this album.” Here, Mac breaks down the 10 tracks that make up *Matter Of Time*. **“Is It Worth Being Sad”** “That’s literally \[about\] running away to the country and not talking to anyone. I asked everyone to leave me alone for a bit. It was just very stressful to try and focus on this new thing but be getting emails about other songs and the old album, and I was in this transition phase. I was in such a mess, and it was the first moment where I was like, is it worth being sad about? I was stuck in the pity, feeling sorry for myself, and that was the first moment where I felt empowered by the struggle. It’s the first song that I wrote that was new for the album, and from there I was able to write \[more\]. It was the first step of the new era.” **“Only Love”** “I love music and it’s my whole life, but it’s caused me this torment and pain. The things we love the most are also the things that bring you the stress or the negativity. The two sides of the coin.” **“Understand”** “When I think about the album, I’m like, it’s totally my fault. I’m the one who let it get to a week before single release. I tried to stop it, but I didn’t try hard enough. But also, I was thinking if you were in my situation, you would probably understand. And thinking that, different things have happened in my life in the past and I wish people understood me more, but then also being like, I could have been a lot more understanding. If we all understood each other, things would go better.” **“Something In The Water”** “It’s like when you get that feeling that something’s off, or something’s not right, and people aren’t quite being what you thought they were. There’s this foreboding feeling. That was one I’d written quite a while ago, and it got neglected—no one picked up on it being good, but I was like, ‘This song’s really good!’ And then The Donuts really transformed it. All the BVs \[backing vocals\], those male choir moments, I didn’t write those. They sent them through. That’s a special one.” **“Letter”** “\[It’s about\] people that aren’t in your life anymore, but you wish they were. I get the urge sometimes—I wish I could reach out to them or write them an email. There’s that feeling of unfinished business—it didn’t have a resolution to the relationship or friendship. If I knew how to say what I was feeling, maybe they’d still be my friend. That was the song I worked the hardest on. That was one I didn’t co-write with anyone.” **“On Your Mind”** “It’s crazy to hear the original. What I sent The Donuts was just piano and me singing, and they took out all the piano, chopped up the vocals, and in the chorus, they took out my lead vocal, and it was just the harmonies. I just love it. The verses, I’m singing like crazy, then the choruses are so hypnotic. It’s probably the weirdest song on the album.” **“Matter Of Time”** “This is the only song that made it from the old album kind of untouched. A few of the other songs I worked on and tore apart, but this one we just did some additional production. I’m singing I’m not happy, then I’m gonna snap, then it’s like, I’m gonna make it amazing. Like I want to make something better. And then I’m like, ‘How long will it take for my silence to break?’ I’m about to snap. And that is so weird because then I did snap, and I was like, ‘No, I have to make something amazing.’ Everything I said in that song happened. It’s just so weird. I didn’t know that as I was writing it.” **“Don’t You Cry”** “It was a song I found on my phone. When I heard it, it kind of broke my heart how sad it was. Especially the chorus: ‘Ooh, where’d you go?’ It sounds like painful crying. I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing anymore and who I was. I think that’s why the voice memo was originally 20 minutes long—it felt good to sing that and let it out.” **“Lifesaver”** “I was so sad again. Breaking my own heart with all the songs! This was one that was on the old album, but I didn’t really feel like where it went was true, so I went back to the original voice memo. And it’s just that moment where you’re desperate and are like, ‘Give me a sign. Give me guidance.’ That moment of surrender and ‘I need help.’” **“Head On The Pillow”** “That was a new one I wrote in Burrawang. You know when everything’s swirling around, and you’re like, I just want to have a nap. The dread of looking at emails or people calling me, I couldn’t deal with it. I just really liked to put my head on the pillow and pretend that everything was fine.”

Ever since an early Obongjayar demo first surfaced on SoundCloud in 2016, it’s been clear that Steven Umoh, the man behind the moniker, possesses a completely unique talent. Known to his friends simply as ‘OB’, the Nigerian-born, London-based musician pens stirring and spiritual lyrics, while commanding a distinctive voice that flits between rap, song and spoken word. With afrobeats, soul and hip-hop influences, he has created a bold, genre-defiant musicality. Despite rich successes over the last few years; OB has never felt ready to release an album, until now, and his debut full-length, Some Nights I Dream of Doors represents a real levelling up for Obongjayar. Across twelve tracks, he deftly moves through diverse sounds and subcultures while navigating a wealth of personal and political topics. OB recently featured on the latest Little Simz album and the most recent Pa Salieu project.

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever’s third album was born out of lockdown sessions building ideas on GarageBand. With the Melbourne group unable to convene and jam—or tour previous album *Sideways to New Italy*—while COVID ran amok, files were swapped, each bursting with ideas and musical freedom. The result is RBCF’s most expansive album yet, one that came together in a flurry of creative excitement once the quintet were able to meet up and play together. While their trademark acoustic-driven indie pop is still in play (“Saw You at the Eastern Beach,” “The Way It Shatters”), there are new twists, such as the smoky ’70s grooves that permeate “Dive Deep.” Lyrically the group also explores new territory, with environmental concerns (“Tidal River” with the line “Jet ski over the pale reef”) and the horrific bushfires that engulfed Australia’s east coast in 2019 and 2020 (“Bounce Off the Bottom”) adding a discontented edge to the record.

While initial ideas for Endless Rooms were traded online during long spells spent separated by Australia’s strict lockdowns, the album was truly born during small windows of freedom in which the band would decamp to a mud-brick house in the bush around two hours north of Melbourne built by the extended Russo family in the 1970s. There, its 12 tracks took shape, informed to such an extent by the acoustics and ambience of the rambling lakeside house that they decided to record the album there (and put the house on the album cover). For the first time, the band self-produced the record (alongside engineer, collaborator and old friend, Matt Duffy). The result is a collection of songs permeated by the spirit of the place; punctuated by field recordings of rain, fire, birds, and wind. "It's almost an anti-concept album," says the band. "The Endless Rooms of the title reflects our love of creating worlds in our songs. We treat each of them as a bare room to be built up with infinite possibilities."

Loyle Carner has always made music out of the things he’s been through in life. Sometimes, the South London rapper and songwriter wishes he could weave some fictional tales so he could save something for himself, but that’s not how it works for him. “It’s the only thing that inspires me to write,” he tells Apple Music. He was feeling uninspired after the release of his second album, *Not Waving, But Drowning*, in 2019, but the news that his girlfriend was pregnant opened the creative floodgates. What has emerged is *hugo*, a remarkable record that not only sees Carner reflect on life as a new father but also prompted him to iron out the troubled relationship he has with his own dad. “It was really useful to have the space to be able to write about it and reflect on it in real time to help me make sense of my thoughts,” he says. “But other times it was quite exhausting. Sometimes it was good, sometimes it was tough.” It makes for a cathartic listen. Let him guide you through it, track by track. **“Hate”** “We made it really quickly, a stream of consciousness. It’s not a big, smash-hit single, but it was the one that summed up where I was at the beginning of the process and it couldn’t go anywhere else. It had to be the first thing that people heard from the album. When you pick up the album, I want you to come on a journey with me, because I started in a bad place and I ended in a good place. I want people to go on that with me.” **“Nobody Knows (Ladas Road)”** “This was probably the first song I wrote for the album. It was before lockdown, even before I found out my girlfriend was pregnant. I had already been thinking about a lot of the subjects on the album, and this was one of the first times where I tapped into something and was like, ‘OK, this is the start of a new project. I can see that I have an idea here.’ I tried to put the songs that I made at the beginning of the process at the beginning of the album. It’s quite autobiographical and you need it to run in a linear fashion, it needs to be chapters of a story.” **“Georgetown” (feat. John Agard)** “This was produced by Madlib. I was saving it for a project with him. I’ve got loads of music that we’ve made together, and we wanted to do a MadLoyle tape, which is a dream come true for me. But I played this to my friend Mike, who was working as an A&R and a collaborator on this project, and he was like, ‘You have to put this on the album. It’s too good to be held back just in case you drop it later.’ I think it really tapped into the same story as the rest of the album. It was really close to ‘Nobody Knows’ but one of them is self-depreciative and the other one is self-fulfilling, really lifted and full of self-belief. They work nicely together.” **“Speed of Plight”** “I was in the studio with Rebel Kleff, who’s a longtime collaborator of mine, and Jordan Rakei and Nick Mills, who’s my engineer and good friend. It came together quite quickly, as did a lot of the stuff for this album. It was such a relief to be really letting fly, not being afraid to be a bit more aggressive, a bit more frustrated, to have a place to vent. That’s what this song really was.” **“Homerton”** “Homerton \[in East London\] was where my son was born. All these songs are little pieces of a journey between me and my father and where I was at. I used to see my father as flawed, and in the first few tracks on the album, he’s very flawed to me. ‘Homerton’ is really that middle point where I start to look at my son and then I’m able to finally, as a father, see myself as flawed as well. Then I’m able to begin the journey of understanding where my father was at and how difficult it is to be a parent and how nobody is a bad person. People make bad decisions and some people have no tools to deal with some of the things that get thrown at them.” **“Blood on My Nikes”** “After ‘Homerton,’ my mind then went to, ‘OK, but what happens when my son grows up in the area that we live in?’ A young boy’s life was taken over a pair of shoes near where my girlfriend teaches around the time that I was writing this song, and I was so moved by it. I was really quite surprised at how numb I had become to hearing these stories and seeing this loss in the communities that I had grown up in. It was important to reflect on this story that’s told by many artists, but through my lens and through my words. I enlisted \[activist and writer\] Athian Akec to help me be able to speak to a younger generation with his voice, to reflect on what it is to see how many young people’s lives we’re losing and how the music is not the problem.” **“Plastic”** “At the end of ‘Blood on My Nikes,’ Athian is eloquently disrespecting the government and saying that where we’re at politically, socially is not good enough, that we’re putting emphasis on the wrong things. ‘Plastic’ is my version of his speech where I also attack these big companies that are making mistakes and hold them accountable, but also hold society accountable, hold myself accountable for putting emphasis on the wrong thing, wanting nice flashy trainers and a new iPhone instead of other bits. But I love my iPhone, so I can’t say anything about it. It’s just trying to find the balance between soul and commerce. Yes, everyone has to make money and live, but we also need to just take a step back, walk into nature and relax, and not put so much pressure on material things.” **“A Lasting Place”** “I was reading a book by Philippa Perry recently called *The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (And Your Children Will Be Glad That You Did)*. There’s a large part about rupture and repair and this idea that you’re having a bad day and you shout at your kid. That’s going to happen, because people get angry. But the repair is the important part, going to your son or daughter and being, ‘Hey, Dad’s having a rubbish day and I took it out on you and that’s not right. It must have made you feel like X, Y, and Z, and I apologize.’ That’s what this song is about, making mistakes and being like, ‘It’s OK.’” **“Polyfilla”** “Towards the end of ‘A Lasting Place,’ it starts to feel like, ‘OK, I’ve got it made, I’m a dad, I’m brilliant, I’m repairing my ruptures. Yeah, I’ve got this in the bag.’ And I think ‘Polyfilla’ is that crashing back down to earth with another mistake or losing my temper or getting frustrated or being late to pick up my son or whatever it is. Battling with that thing of, ‘Man, maybe I’m not cut out for this.’ That worry of impostor syndrome: ‘Maybe I’m not a good parent. Maybe I’m not a good person.’” **“HGU”** “This is about forgiving my dad, and forgiveness in general. It’s not even forgiving for him, it’s about forgiveness for myself: ‘If I hold on to this, carry around this albatross my whole life, it’s weighing me down.’ I’ve taken so much from hip-hop and I wanted to give something back. Within rap, everyone else is like, ‘If your dad left and he’s rubbish, you don’t need to forgive him, just let that anger be your motivation.’ I think that’s cool to an extent, but it can cripple you if you let it go further than an initial youthful rebellion. It’s a nice little reveal at the end that we’re in the car. The album is called *hugo* because my dad’s car was called Hugo and he taught me to drive over lockdown. It’s a small story, but with some big topics.”

Since completing their farewell tour in 2012, Southern Ontario post-hardcore heroes Alexisonfire have done a pretty terrible job of staying apart. Even as its members committed themselves to other bands—singer/guitarist Dallas Green with City and Colour, resident screamer George Pettit with Dead Tired, guitarist/vocalist Wade MacNeil with Gallows, drummer Jordan Hastings with Billy Talent—the everlasting power of what they created as Alexisonfire kept pulling them back together. Festival reunion dates in 2015 had, by decade’s end, given way to a string of stand-alone singles. Still, the prospect of a new full-length Alexisonfire album—following 2009’s *Old Crows / Young Cardinals*—was never a sure thing. That is, until COVID shutdowns presented them with a rare opportunity to make music without deadline pressures or looming tour dates. “This was just a bunch of guys getting back together and just creating for the sake of it,” Pettit tells Apple Music. “We\'re all very different people than when we wrote *Old Crows / Young Cardinals*, but I think that benefited us in a lot of ways, because there\'s been 10 years of us consuming different music and being inspired by different things.” Arriving 20 years after their self-titled debut album, *Otherness* reintroduces a band that’s lost none of its intensity, and shortens the aesthetic distance between Alexisonfire’s circle-pit strikes and the graceful balladry of City and Colour. And that’s not just Green’s doing—for the first time, Pettit eases up on the throat-shredding to actually sing a handful of verses and harmonize with his bandmates. “This album came to us without a lot of struggles,” Pettit says proudly. “On *Otherness*, we\'re all pulling in the same direction.” Here, Pettit gives us the track-by-track rundown of Alexisonfire’s new beginning. **“Commited to the Con”** “The con is conservatism. It\'s this notion that if we dismantle government for the sake of giving tax breaks or funneling money into billionaires’ pockets without regulation, that\'s somehow going to deliver us to some new utopia of freedom. That\'s just horseshit, and a lot of people are buying it. There are people out there that are committed to this con, this thing with no working models in the world. But when we band together, our tax dollars can prop up the cornerstone of civilized society—they pay for hospitals and schools and emergency services and infrastructure. So when we ask, ‘Which side are you on?’ it\'s like: Are you on the side of working together as people to make things better for everyone, or are you on the side of every-man-for-himself libertarian hypothetical nonsense?” **“Sweet Dreams of Otherness”** “The idea of \'otherness\' can be interpreted in any sort of way. The way that it applies to Alexisonfire is that we were all kids who grew up trying to find the secret corners of culture. I grew up in Southern Ontario, a third-generation Canadian with no ties to any sort of real culture from my ancestry. So you have to make it yourself and figure out the things that you want to represent your generation. And the things that were being presented to us through major media didn\'t appeal to us—we had to go and find those weird spaces. It could have been a CAW \[Canadian Auto Workers\] union hall where there was a punk show happening, or an independent record store, or the indie cinema that was coming out at the time. So the song is kind of about that, but it also has all sorts of implications for people who are nonbinary, or people who are LGBTQ. It\'s about finding strength in the fact that you\'re very different.” **“Sans Soleil”** “I\'m kind of a key component to Alexisonfire with all my screaming, but there have been times where we\'ve shoehorned that into songs just to kind of keep me in the band. But this is a beautiful song, and there\'d be no point in trying to have me scream for the purposes of keeping that in. So I took a back seat—I was just doing backup vocals with Dallas on this one. It\'s the type of song that we might not have put on one of our earlier records, but we felt like it was an Alexis song, for sure.” **“Conditional Love”** “This is about love as a choice, as opposed to it being some uncontrollable thing. And in some ways, that, to me, is better: the idea of being an active participant in my love and not have it be something that I\'m being dragged around by. That\'s the sentiment of the lyrics—but they just kind of fell into this ripper kind of rock song.” **“Blue Spade”** “\[Bassist\] Chris Steele started contributing lyrics on this record. Chris is a very remarkable individual who has been through a considerable amount, so having his perspective on a song felt right. Dallas took a section of his lyrics and found a way to turn it into a chorus. We have demos of the song where I’m screaming the verses, but when we got into the studio, I thought, \'I\'m gonna attempt to sing this.\' I\'m not quite confident in my ability as a singer, so I was like, \'Is this good?\' And then Wade walked in the room and was like, \'That\'s it! That\'s what this song needs.\' We had a really intense moment where we were just like, \'Okay, well, now there\'s nothing that we can\'t do!\' It just felt like we had unlocked a new gear within the band and found a new way to inject me into a song.” **“Dark Night of the Soul”** “The lyrical content is about Wade having a psychedelic experience on DMT, and the song matches the lyrics. We were really expanding this song, and there\'s that moment in the bridge—where it goes to that shuffle beat—and I thought, \'Let\'s do something jazzy here.\' We found a way to really make that song unique—it goes full Goblin. There were grand designs at one point to approach the remaining members of Rush to do like a 15-minute bridge for the song.” **“Mistaken Information”** “Dallas is the best singer that I\'ve ever known, so it was nice to actually sing \[harmonies\] on a track with him. After I was done recording my vocals for this, I was almost sad, because I was enjoying it so much. I think this song was actually in play for City and Colour’s new record, but Dallas was discussing it with his wife, and she was like, \'I feel like this is an Alexisonfire song.\' It\'s about the war on the truth, and how it\'s hard to understand what the truth is now because there\'s so much misinformation out there. But when we were recording it, I remember Dallas saying, \'Are people just going to think this is a breakup song?\' And I said, \'If they interpret it that way, it\'s valid.’ I feel like it works that way as well.” **“Survivor’s Guilt”** “I work in emergency services, and this song is naming a phenomenon that I see, where you see something horrible and then you go about the rest of your day like nothing happened. You have the ability to kind of detach, and it\'s not a particularly heroic quality, but it is, in some ways, a very necessary quality. I\'m not sure that necessarily comes through in the lyrics—I purposely tried to make it a bit more open for interpretation, but that\'s where the ‘survivor’s guilt’ sentiment came from.” **“Reverse the Curse”** \"We had a version of this \[for *Old Crows / Young Cardinals*\] that was extremely Kyuss-heavy, and at the time, we were uncomfortable with that—we felt like we were doing something that wasn\'t us. As a group of people who have great respect for the stoner-rock world, we didn’t want to disrespect it. It\'s the same reason why I would never make a reggae album, even though I love Jamaican music. But now, in the \'Dark Night of the Soul\' era of Alexisonfire, things are a little more open and we can kind of do whatever we feel like now. \[City and Colour touring member\] Matt Kelly got to play Hammond on it, and that really leveled the song up in a way that we hadn\'t been anticipating.” **“World Stops Turning”** “This is a love song Dallas wrote about his band, Alexisonfire. We had the most beautiful moment where he brought us up to his cottage and we sat at his dining room table and for three hours, we just talked, and discussed the history of the band. He let us in on things that had been going on in his life, and it was just a very introspective moment for all of us. And at the end of it, he presented us with a demo he\'d been working on of this song, and we just knew that this is going to be the new set-closer. We’ve always ended our set with \[2004\'s\] \'Happiness by the Kilowatt,\' and we turn it into this 12-minute version. And this song felt like the new version of that—we\'re gonna have this big sprawling epic, and I could envision it just blowing everyone’s hair back. It\'s a perfect album-ender—we went full Floyd on this one.”

During the disorienting first few months of the pandemic, Simon Green hit a creative block. The British electronic musician, better known as Bonobo, felt trapped and isolated working out of his home in east Los Angeles, starved for live music and human interaction. “I desperately needed to get into a different headspace,” he tells Apple Music. “Really, I needed to get out of the house.” Green began taking solo camping trips into the area’s remote mountains and deserts in an effort to get his creative juices flowing. “Exploring California was a great way of breaking the monotony of being indoors all day,” he says. “During this time of zero stimulation, I felt like I had to make it for myself.” *Fragments*, his moody seventh album, born from these adventures, is a tribute to the West Coast’s wide-open spaces. A laidback mix of mesmerizing techno, orchestral instrumentation, and hushed R&B balladry, the project is as sprawling, peaceful, and varied as the landscape itself. Here, he takes us inside the making of each track. **“Polyghost” (feat. Miguel Atwood-Ferguson)** “This began as a long, drawn-out, seven-minute techno track that didn’t make the final cut. But it was built on top of two important thematic elements: harp, which is played by Lara Somogyi, who I recorded and then sampled, and strings, which are played by Miguel Atwood-Ferguson. In the end, I decided to keep just those two parts because they weave throughout the rest of the record and drew everything together. The minute I did that, it became the obvious opener.” **“Shadows” (feat. Jordan Rakei)** “Back in 2019, before I even started assembling this album, I was working on a track that felt like a reference to guys like Theo Parrish and Moodymann—that swingy, old-school Detroit sound. I had been listening to that Andrew Ashong song ‘Flowers’ and felt like, with a vocalist, this could be in that same area. I reached out to Jordan, who helped me work out the structure—a bit of tension and release—and it wound up being one of the first tracks I had in place for this project. I’ve been sitting on it for almost three years.” **“Rosewood”** “A good ways into making this album, I started to feel like I had the record but I didn’t have a proper single. So I went through my iPhone notes and voice memos and found a little piano loop that jumped out at me. I pulled it into Ableton and put a little kick drum under it and immediately felt like it could be the seeds of something. For the hook, I found this R&B a cappella on YouTube that had this little lyric of ‘I won\'t leave you.’ And I knew that was it.” **“Otomo” (feat. O’Flynn)** “This features an archived folk recording of a Bulgarian bagpipe choir that, to me, feels like a huge sample. It’s this big, droning, ethereal, cathedral-y thing, and I hadn’t heard anything like it before. I felt like it deserved to have some big *moments* around it, so I reached out to my friend O\'Flynn, who does that so well—switching between tuneful melodies and percussive muscle. He wound up building an entire section for it, without even me prompting him, and it was perfect. It’s definitely the track that’s going to get played out in the club.” **“Tides” (feat. Jamila Woods)** “I’d been talking to Jamila and a few other vocalists about doing some collaborations, but nobody was feeling particularly motivated—it was too early into the pandemic. But then, in 2021, people came to life. Jamila texted me that she was going into the studio to record something, and it wound up being a demo that’s on the record. Hearing it really kick-started my creative energy. I remember when she first sent it to me, I was heading out for the night and was like, ‘I\'m going to wait to listen to this until I get home, when I can really give it my full attention.\' When I got back, I\'d had a couple glasses of wine, so I was in the perfect state. I hit play, and I was just...overcome. I almost cried. It was like suddenly there was an emotional centerpiece to the record. It changed everything.” **“Elysian”** “This one is named after Elysian Park, which is very close to where I live in LA. Because it was the pandemic and most things were closed, I spent a lot of time in the park, going for walks, cycling up to Angels Point, and so on. As this song came together, I listened to it while walking around in Elysian, so the tribute felt appropriate. It’s the midway point of the record, and felt like a good place to have a nice acoustic interlude. A moment of pause.” **“Closer”** “I was digging around in my archives and stumbled upon an old session recording with Andreya Triana, a singer-songwriter who I’d worked with back in 2009. I produced her debut album, *Lost Where I Belong*, in my apartment in London. I pulled some vocals from this one track ‘Far Closer,’ and it worked really well. I hit her up and was like, ‘Hey! Remember this vocal? I\'ve started sampling it again on this other thing.’ She got a kick out of it.” **“Age of Phase”** “Throughout this whole process, I was playing a lot with modular synths. It was a way of keeping the process exciting, to learn how to use different technology. ‘Age of Phase’ is basically exclusively modular synths, apart from the vocals, and that was a new thing for me. I wanted to create all these interweaving melodies and vocals and have everything reach this chaotic peak, before diving down into something really lush. I\'m going to try to deconstruct it for the live show and see how far I can push that idea.” **“From You” (feat. Joji)** “This one seems like it’s a bit of a curveball for some people. Maybe myself as well. But I was trying to do something that sounded a bit more like contemporary hip-hop and R&B. I was listening to Kehlani, SZA, slowthai, even some James Blake, and was really inspired by that blended sound. I\'d always wanted to work with Joji, because I think he\'s a really interesting musician, and when the parts all came together I was like, ‘Wow, okay, this is kind of a pop song. And I\'m kind of into that.’” **“Counterpart”** “This song came together early on and was exactly the mix of sounds I was looking for—a little bit techno, but quite melodic, with lots of modular synths. It was so fun to make that I was sad when I finished it, so now I’m working on a live version as well. I think it’s going to have multiple lives.” **“Sapien”** “This is my throwback to early-\'90s rave—artists like Mike Paradinas, Rephlex, and Future Sound of London, that era of melodic, ravey breakbeats. I sent the piano part into a modular so I could get all those choppy synth parts that are actually from a Rhodes piano, and then I went apeshit on drum programming at the end as a way to hearken back to that era of frenetic drum breaks. It’s one of the more abrasive moments on the record, which I really like.” **“Day by Day” (feat. Kadhja Bonet)** “This is a straight R&B jam, really. I had spoken to Kadhja for ages and we\'d sent demos back and forth. And the thing I like about this one is that it references earlier stuff of mine. It feels like it could be from the *Black Sands* era, which makes me feel like I’ve come full circle. I also like that it has a sense of optimism as the album closer, serving as a reminder that everything’s going to be all right.”

Bonobo has announced Fragments, a new album that will be released January 14, 2022 (Ninja Tune), along with a 2022 world tour. Along with the announcement, Bonobo has also shared the lead single “Rosewood.” Fragments is the most emotionally intense record that he - aka Simon Green - has ever had to make. It’s no surprise that it’s also his masterpiece. The album features Jamila Woods, Joji, Kadhja Bonet, Jordan Rakei, O’Flynn and Miguel Atwood-Ferguson. Born first out of fragments of ideas and experimentation, the album ultimately was fused together in a burst of creativity fuelled by both collaboration and Green’s escape into the wild. ​​The artwork for ‘Fragments" is by Neil Krug who returns after creating the art for 2017’s 'Migration’. Krug has also made a visualiser for ’Rosewood”. One of the biggest names in dance music, Green’s career includes 3 Grammy nominations and 2 million tickets sold for the tour supporting his 2017 album Migration. Migration was a top ten album in multiple countries, top five at home in the UK and a Billboard dance album number one in the US. He’s also a favourite mainstage performer at the world’s greatest music festivals. As part of the tour announced today Bonobo will play three dates at the legendary Royal Albert Hall in London in addition to dates in Brighton, Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds and Nottingham. Fragments is a series of 12 sonic affirmations, featuring some of the hardest and most hip-shaking grooves that Green has ever created. The ballads are perfectly placed throughout; they capture a world in flux and glow with hope. Coaxing the ideas out initially took some hard work. The constantly-touring Green creates best while on the move; the global shutdown forced him to stand still. Musical themes began to arise through Green’s exploration of modular synthesis, recordings he had made of harpist Lara Somogyi, his work with arranger and string player Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, his own playing of the Fender Rhodes and more, as the album was created, recorded and mixed by Green over the past two years. The album also came into focus as he sought refuge on solo adventures into nature, away from the shutdowns and wild fires and into the blazing California desert. “Tides,” featuring Chicagoan singer and poet Jamila Woods, acted as a catalyst, and the album began to click into place around it. “I knew I had a centrepiece, I knew how it was all going to sound,” he says. Working with Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, musical themes began to emerge. Recording orchestral musicians in actual studios helped bring the songs “out of the box” even more. A rhythmic framework started to come together too: the structures of UK bass music and rave began to seep into beats that would become tracks like “Otomo” (eventually co-produced by O’Flynn and featuring a sample of the Bulgarian choir 100 Kaba-Gaidi), and “Sapien.” The ”old school, Detroity, Moodymann and Theo Parrish inspired” “Shadows” was recorded with friend Jordan Rakei. “Rosewood,” “Closer” and “Counterpoint” each start with an ecstatic snap to them, but snake down surprisingly different paths. Somogyi's harp and Atwood-Ferguson's strings mingle together on the beatless “Elysian.” Two ballads flesh out the second half of the record: “Day by Day” featuring Kadhja Bonet and “From You” featuring Joji. It's about the dancefloor in many ways, about how “I remembered all over again how much I loved crowds and movement and people connecting with each other,” Green reflects. But the positivity isn’t just in the uptempo rhythms: even the most introspective and melancholic pieces have joy in them. “FRAGMENTS” LIVE TOUR DATES - 2022 North America 18-Feb: Wildhorse Saloon, Nashville, TN 19-Feb: PromoWest Pavilion at Ovation, Newport, KY 20-Feb: EXPESS LIVE!, Columbus, OH 21-Feb: Stage AE, Pittsburgh, PA 25-Feb: Great Hall, Brooklyn, NY 27-Feb: Royale, Boston, MA 28-Feb: Echostage, Washington, DC 02-Mar: Franklin Music Hall, Philadelphia, PA 05-Mar: Higher Ground, Burlington, VT 06-Mar: Mtelus, Montreal, QC 09-Mar: History, Toronto, ON 10-Mar: Royal Oak Music Hall, Royal Oak, MI 11-Mar: Byline Bank Aragon Ballroom, Chicago, IL 12-Mar: The Sylvee, Madison, WI 13-Mar: Turner Hall, Milwaukee, WI 15-Mar: The Palace, Minneapolis, MN 17-Mar: Mission Ballroom, Denver, CO 18-Mar: The Complex, Salt Lake City, UT 19-Mar: Knitting Factory, Boise, ID 21-Mar: PNE Forum, Vancouver, BC 22-Mar: Showbox SoDo, Seattle, WA 24-Mar: Roseland Theater, Portland, OR Europe 20-Apr: AFAS Live, Amsterdam, NL 21-Apr: edel-optics.de Arena, Hamburg, DE 23- Apr: UFO im Velodrom, Berlin, De 24-Apr: Palladium, Cologne, De 25-Apr: TonHalle, Munich, De 26-Apr: Xtra, Zurich, CH 28-Apr: Le Centquatre, Paris, FR UK 03-May: The Brighton Centre, Brighton, UK 04-May: O2 Academy, Birmingham, UK 06-May: Victoria Warehouse, Manchester, UK 07-May: O2 Academy, Leeds, UK 08-May: Rock City, Nottingham, UK 16-May: Royal Albert Hall, London, UK 17-May: Royal Albert Hall, London, UK 18-May: Royal Albert Hall, London, UK

Black Thought may be best-known as part of The Roots, performing night after late night for Jimmy Fallon’s TV audience, yet the Philadelphia native concurrently boasts a staggering reputation as a stand-alone rapper. Though he’s earned GOAT nods from listeners for earth-shaking features alongside Big Pun, Eminem, and Rapsody, his solo catalog long remained relatively modest in size. Meanwhile, Danger Mouse had a short yet monumental run in the 2000s that made him one of that decade’s most beloved and respected producers. His discography from that period contains no shortage of microphone dynamos, most notably MF DOOM (as DANGERDOOM) and Goodie Mob’s CeeLo Green (as Gnarls Barkley). Uniting these low-key hip-hop powerhouses is the stuff of hip-hop dreams, the kind of fantasy-league-style draft you’d encounter on rap message boards. Yet *Cheat Codes* is real—perhaps realer than real. Danger Mouse’s penchant for quirkily cinematic, subtly soulful soundscapes remains from the old days, but the growth from his 2010s work with the likes of composer Daniele Luppi gives “Aquamarine” and “Sometimes” undeniable big-screen energy. Black Thought luxuriates over these luxurious beats, his lyrical lexicon put to excellent use over the feverish funk of “No Gold Teeth” and the rollicking blues of “Close to Famous.” As if their team-up wasn’t enough, an intergenerational cabal of rapper guests bless the proceedings. From living legend Raekwon to A$AP Rocky to Conway the Machine, New York artists play a pivotal role here. A lost DOOM verse, apparently from *The Mouse and the Mask* sessions, makes its way onto the sauntering and sunny “Belize,” another gift for the fans.

On “Tick Tock,” the second track on *Warm Chris*, Aldous Harding asks, “Now that you see me, what you gonna do? Wanted to see me.” The New Zealand singer-songwriter’s lyrics have always been veiled and poetically cryptic—and she’s made a point of not explaining the meaning behind any of it. But her fourth album feels assured and open in a way that makes you wonder whether the question is directed at an audience that\'s been wanting to learn more about this singular artist. There’s a lot to see here, and like a well-directed film, it benefits from multiple replays, with more nuances and hidden meanings uncovered on each listen. Across her four albums, you’ll notice a linear emotional evolution. Speaking to Apple Music in 2019 about her then-new album *Designer*, she said, “I felt freed up… I could feel a loosening of tension, a different way of expressing my thought processes.” The journey clearly continued. *Warm Chris* is as intimate and curious as ever, but it’s more grounded, more confident. If the tension was loosening on *Designer*, here, Harding has grown accustomed to the relaxed space and made herself at home. The album seems to deal primarily with connections and relationships. She reflects on a lost love during opener “Ennui” (“You’ve become my joy, you understand… Come back, come back and leave it in the right place”), hunts for faded excitement on “Fever” (“I still stare at you in the dark/Looking for that thrill in the nothing/You know my favorite place is the start”), comically complains on “Passion Babe” (“Well, you know I’m married, and I was bored out of my mind/Of all the ways to eat a cake, this one surely takes the knife… Passion must play, or passion won’t stay”), and accepts an ending on “Lawn” (“Then if you\'re not for me, guess I am not for you/I will enjoy the blue, I’m only confused with you”). On the whole, *Warm Chris* feels light and folksy, and the music is relatively simple—though not without its surprises. There are brass embellishments here, a psychedelic guitar solo there, even a brief foray into forlorn vintage blues on “Bubbles.” It leaves space for Harding’s voice to remain in the spotlight. Her vocal acrobatics are as strange and versatile as ever—she can shift from breathy, dramatically deep bass to ultra-fine, ultra-high falsetto in moments, sometimes for only a word at a time. She sounds innocent and paper-thin on the gentle “Lawn,” lively—and inflected with an unusual accent—on “Passion Babe.” Her delivery is so pronounced and hyperbolic on the heart-wrenching “She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain” that it sounds like something out of a musical. And album closer “Leathery Whip” feels inspired by The Velvet Underground, complete with a deep Nico drawl (occasionally flipping to a Kate Bush-style nasal tone), backing harmonies, a jangling tambourine, and a cheeky refrain: “Here comes life with his leathery whip.”

An artist of rare calibre, Aldous Harding does more than sing; she conjures a singular intensity. The artist has announced details of Warm Chris new studio album, the follow-up to 2019’s acclaimed Designer. For Warm Chris, the Aotearoa New Zealand musician reunited with producer John Parish, continuing a professional partnership that began in 2017 and has forged pivotal bodies of work (2017’s Party and the aforementioned Designer). All ten tracks were recorded at Rockfield Studios in Wales, the album includes contributions from H. Hawkline, Seb Rochford, Gavin Fitzjohn, John and Hopey Parish and Jason Williamson (Sleaford Mods).

The irony of Sophie Allison calling her second Soccer Mommy album *color theory* is that the title would be a better fit for her third, *Sometimes, Forever*. Not only is this record more stylistically varied on a track-to-track level—the flinty, classic indie rock of “Bones” and “Following Eyes,” the industrial tilt of “Darkness Forever,” the country vibe of “Feel It All the Time”—but it amplifies the internal mixings that make Allison’s songs vivid: beauty and dissonance (“Unholy Affliction”), romance and violence (“I cut a piece out of my thigh/And felt my heart go skydiving” on “Still”), bitter wisdom and wide-eyed innocence (“Feel It All the Time”). She’s a devoted student of the ’90s, to be sure—but one who’s rapidly outgrowing her influences, too.

Sometimes, Forever, the immersive and compulsively replayable new Soccer Mommy full-length, cements Sophie Allison’s status as one of the most gifted songwriters making rock music right now. The album finds Sophie broadening the borders of her aesthetic without abandoning the unsparing lyricism and addictive melodies that made earlier songs so easy to obsess over. To support her vision Sophie enlisted producer Daniel Lopatin, whose recent credits include the Uncut Gems movie score and The Weeknd’s Dawn FM.

On the cover of her second album, LA indie polymath Sasami Ashworth—aka SASAMI—appears in the form of the Nure-onna, a mythical half-woman/half-serpent creature from Japanese folklore. It’s more than just a badass image: On *Squeeze*, SASAMI re-emerges utterly transformed and all-powerful. With the untamed opener, “Skin a Rat,” she unleashes a torrent of moshable nu-metal that obliterates any trace of the dream-pop artisan heard on her 2019 self-titled debut. “I feel a little bit like a sci-fi or fantasy novelist this time,” SASAMI tells Apple Music. “And in a lot of ways, this album is my first book, whereas my last album was more like my diary entries being leaked.” But the skull-crushing heaviness of “Skin a Rat” is just the first steep drop on a thrill ride that sends you careening through aesthetic shifts—a volatile mood-ring reflection of her existence as a queer woman of color and a working musician entering her thirties. “The songs are much less about explicit experiences and much more about feelings,” she says. “Narratively, this album is inspired by movies like *Parasite*, where there’s a lot of different genres—one second it’s a dark comedy, one second it’s a thriller, the next second it’s romantic, and then it’s a horror. It keeps you on your toes, and I wanted to make an album that has that same dynamic range.” Here, SASAMI guides us through *Squeeze*, one scene at a time. **“Skin a Rat”** “Making art during the pandemic, you’re not having experiences—you’re just drawing from memories of experiences. And so, knowing that I wanted to make these angsty, aggressive tracks, it’s natural that I went back to middle school and high school, when you’re at your most angsty and emotional and rageful. And so, nu-metal creates an emotional portal to that time for me. This song is basically about systemic oppression and reclaiming some of this violent discourse that’s usually aimed towards femmes and using sonic elements that are usually used by cis men. I also wanted to be very clear about who the album was for: Patti Harrison and Laetitia Tamko from Vagabon are screaming the lyrics with me, and I really wanted it to be an anthem for my community.” **“The Greatest”** “‘The Greatest’ was really influenced by power ballads—like Bonnie Tyler and Heart and Aerosmith. I wanted to touch on a lot of different types of emotions and sounds on the album, and I wanted to stretch out as far as I could in each direction. So, the syrupy schmaltziness of power ballads was really inspiring for this one. But because there’s this mission statement of anti-toxic positivity on the album, I wanted this to be kind of an un-love ballad. You can’t take dirty laundry and put it directly into the dryer without first putting it into the washing machine—you can’t skip straight to healing and brightness and happiness without processing the dark shit that’s going on. A lot of power ballads are about the absence of love, but this song is basically my grungy power ballad about how the absence of love can sometimes be a bigger force than love itself.” **“Say It”** “This song and a couple of other ones are basically about the pain of someone not communicating with you. I feel like it’s a very in-my-early-thirties sentiment—it’s basically saying, ‘I don’t even need you to apologize or tell me what I want to hear; I just want to communicate. Just tell me how you’re actually feeling and release the toxicity of not being honest with people.’ It’s kind of a communication jam.” **“Call Me Home”** “This song is about synthesizing that feeling of nothing being wrong, but you still blow everything up just to feel something, and how numbness and a lack of feeling emotion can be just as heavy and dark as feeling something outright. This song is an ode to the wanderer—it’s an ode to someone who has restless legs and needs to be on the move and needs to be feeling things in extremes.” **“Need It to Work”** “This is another song about a lack of communication and a lack of connection and how that can kind of fester, and how we can obsess over not getting that attention or getting that reciprocation of feelings. Making yourself vulnerable to someone and then not having that be returned can make you feel fucking crazy. I’m a Cancer, so when people don’t respond to my texts, I completely freak out.” **“Tried to Understand”** “I really wanted to make a heavy album, but at the same time, songs are kind of like children: No matter how much you want them to be something, you just have to support them and let them be whatever they want to be. I’ve made so many different versions of ‘Tried to Understand,’ and, at the end of the day, she just wanted to be like a folk-pop song. ‘Tried to Understand’ is kind of like turning the lights on for a second before something dark happens again.” **“Make It Right”** “I wanted to put together something that was snappy and punk but also had this kind of pop sensibility. This song bridges the gap between the lightness of ‘Tried to Understand’ and ‘Sorry Entertainer,’ so it kind of feeds both beasts in that way.” **“Sorry Entertainer”** \"Honestly, if you listen to the \[Daniel Johnston\] original, my version doesn’t deviate too much from that guitar part. I just heard the original and I immediately heard the metal version in my head. It’s like I read the screenplay of the scene and imagined the big-budget action movie of it. Of course, I couldn’t get explicit permission from Daniel Johnston, so I hope he’s not rolling in his grave over this one. I liked having this kind of pathetic-loner vibe with this really aggressive sound. I think that’s a feeling a lot of musicians are familiar with: ‘I have all this power in my instrument, but I also still kind of feel like a loser.’” **“Squeeze” (feat. No Home)** “I was a fan of No Home’s first record, *F\*\*\*\*\*g Hell*. When I heard it, I was like, ‘She is completely pushing the bounds of genre. She has total pop chops, but is also down to make the weirdest, freakiest aggressive music too.’ And so, I felt like she was a kindred spirit. When I make music, I usually create all the menus and touch every piece of food before it goes out in the restaurant, whereas with this one I wanted to kind of let go and see what happens when I bring someone in to collaborate in a deeper way. She wrote all the verses and, as a black femme in the UK, she has a different experience and perspective. I really connect to a lot of metal and heavy rock songs where the imagery and the lyrics are really violent, but oftentimes they’re objectifying women. So, I wanted to reclaim some of that language and create something on my terms, but with the aggression and rawness of the lyricism that we bring.” **“Feminine Water Turmoil”/“Not a Love Song”** “I feel like the first three-quarters of the record kind of deals with these concepts of human nature—like systemic oppression and unrequited love and desperation and rage and anger. And I wanted to end the album by floating into a more existential place. I feel like an instrumental track \[‘Feminine Water Turmoil’\] can help us to detach from the human language and these human ideas. And then ‘Not a Love Song’ is really a lot more about humans’ relationship with nature and questioning why we always center ourselves in everything, and maybe posing the idea to the listener that we could be in more humility and harmony with nature. I just wanted to end the movie with a more philosophical ending, as opposed to hitting a raw nerve. The song is like aftercare—it’s a respectful way to end an arduous, whiplashing album. I wanted to end it in a way that someone might actually want to listen to it again.”

Squeeze, the second full length from Sasami, surveys the raw aggression of nu-metal, tender plainspokeness of country-pop and folk rock, and dramatic romanticism of classical music.

Freya Josephine Hollick’s third album represents her most seamless merging of classic country trappings and heady cosmic flourishes. The Victoria-based singer-songwriter decamped to Joshua Tree, California, to record with Lucinda Williams’ world-class backing band Buick 6 as well as lead guitarist Greg Leisz (Eric Clapton, Sheryl Crow) before finishing these songs with her well-oiled Australian players. The results are by turns thoughtful and irreverent, all imbued with the dreamy, lingering lilt of her voice. Hollick tips her hat to the long tradition of lyrical jealousy on “Vivienne, June, Dolly & Jolene,” while “Holdin’ on the Ones You Love” adds honky-tonk piano and backing baritone from English crooner Alan Power. Beyond those old-school touches, “Me & Mine” contrasts James Gilligan’s glossy string arrangements with empowering lyrics about standing up to bullies at home and abroad. The title track is a mournful lament for environmental devastation, with a thematic sequel in the spacey love letter “Wilderness Tune.” This is time-honored country songwriting with a self-aware edge, rewarding us with sneaky surprises and punchlines alike.

Informed equally by his diverse collaborations with the likes of Lorde and Yo-Yo Ma and his increasing work as a screen actor—with roles in *A Star Is Born* and *True History of the Kelly Gang*—Marlon Williams borders on chameleonic on his third solo album. The Aotearoa singer-songwriter slips comfortably between genres and personas here, including clear sweet spots for breezy, beachy folk (“Easy Does It,” “Morning Crystals”) and swooning synth-pop (“River Rival,” “Thinking of Nina”). Then there’s the layered funk of “My Heart the Wormhole” and the theatrical crooning of the closing piano ballad “Promises,” a bold reinterpretation of a Barbra Streisand classic written by Barry and Robin Gibb. All of those scene stages show new sides to Williams, offsetting the lonesome country and folk brooding of his previous work. The opening title track even employs a traditional Māori strum style to honor his Ngāi Tahu and Ngāi Tai heritage, all while riding a frisky disco beat and a dreamy falsetto turn from this versatile multi-hyphenate.

Party Dozen are a duo from Sydney made up of Kirsty Tickle (saxophone) and Jonathan Boulet (percussion and sampler). Since forming in 2017, they have become renowned in Australia for their incendiary live shows, touring and playing with acts such as LIARS, Tropical Fuck Storm and Viagra Boys. Exactly what Party Dozen are is completely up to the listener. Doom. Jazz. Hardcore. Psychedelic. No-wave. Industrial. Although largely instrumental, their sets are punctuated by Kirsty’s unique “singing” style, screaming into the bell of her saxophone which itself goes through a bevy of effects pedals. Intensely independent in everything they do, the duo write, perform and record everything themselves. 2022 will see the return of Party Dozen, first in April with the 7” release, Fat Hans Gone Mad, for the Sub Pop Singles Club, and then in July with their third album, The Real Work, with a new label partner in New York’s Temporary Residence Ltd. The Real Work succeeds in exploring new directions but also features some familiar Party Dozen touches. Perhaps most notable is the first-ever appearance of a guest other than Kirsty or Jonathan on a Party Dozen track, with Nick Cave ad-libbing a very memorable contribution to the album’s second track, “Macca The Mutt.”

At this point, Lizzo needs no introduction. The endlessly witty, playfully braggadocious, and proudly plus-size powerhouse has been pocketing Grammys and flying private for a minute now, and in many ways, her celebratory fourth album *Special* is a snapshot from her view at the top. “I felt a lot of pressure to follow up *Cuz I Love You* with more bangers,” she tells Apple Music. “Or to capture this post-‘Truth Hurts’-single-girl-era Lizzo. But concepts have never really been my bag. It feels like I’m lying. Instead, I just wrote honestly about where I’ve been for the last few years, and who I’ve become.” Given these tumultuous times, the tone of the album shifted a bit. In its early phases, *Special* was a political project of angry, protest-oriented rock songs—a way to “address the injustices I see in the world,” she says. But her songwriting led her into brighter, more positive territory. “I started writing from a place of gratitude rather than fear, and that’s always where I wanted to be,” she says. “Whether I have everything in the world or it’s all taken away from me, I always want my base level to be gratitude. These songs are a celebration of who I am right now.” Laced with campy one-liners (“It’s bad bitch o’clock/Yeah, it’s thick thirty”), hard-to-get clearances (Beastie Boys, Coldplay, Lauryn Hill), and chunky disco-funk beats designed to make you move, these spirited, charismatic anthems are her most adventurous yet. They also detail Lizzo’s keys to happiness: counting your blessings and loving yourself first. **“The Sign”** “This was originally track two. The first track I had was a sad song about love and loss, because I wanted to catch people by surprise. Like a traditional Lizzo album starts with a big fanfare, it\'s very in-your-face. As this album evolved and I made peace with not putting a lot of those darker notes on here, it became clear to me that the right way to start this was by being my honest self. That meant: ‘Hi, motherfucker!’ That in-your-face fanfare. I think it works great as a tone-setter, too, because honestly, where else would this song go? It can\'t go at the end. It can\'t be in the middle. It\'s definitely not track three. It’s a kick-off. It’s saying, ‘We\'re about to have fun. This is about to be a musical journey.’” **“About Damn Time”** “I have been making feel-good music for a long fucking time now—as early as ‘Good as Hell’ for people who\'ve known about me. So when I made a song like ‘Juice’ that had this funky disco feel to it, I didn\'t really realize what I was doing. I was just letting the song happen. It was the complete opposite with ‘About Damn Time.’ For this record, I was like, ‘We are making a disco record.’ I wanted a song that would be emblematic and reflective of the times. And I associate disco with resilience; it helped so many people stomp out of a dark era in this country. So I hoped that a contemporary disco song would have a similar effect. Now, I don\'t know what we\'re walking into. Things have gotten crazy. But I do know that we\'re always moving. I wanted this song to be a marching song \[that would help\] us move forward.” **“Grrrls”** “benny blanco and I had never worked together before this album. We’d eaten together, but we\'d never worked together. Then one day I heard he wanted to get in the studio and I was like, ‘Oh shit, okay, let\'s make it happen.’ He came with one track and it was this. So I sat with it for a while. Eventually I was like, ‘Listen, this is either going to be the greatest song ever or the biggest waste of our time.’ Because Beastie Boys were one of the greatest copyrights of all time. No one, and I mean no one, has done this. Until now. Dude, Beastie Boys cleared ‘Girls’ for yours truly. It’s an honor.” **“2 Be Loved (Am I Ready)”** “This is the first record I made with Max Martin, and it’s a dream record. As someone who\'s been writing songs since I was 9, who studied music since I was 12, and who dreamed of being a performer, Max Martin is the dream collaborator. Recording it was like watching a legend in action. He’s an extremely collaborative, open, creative soul. The song is a callback to when pop records had key changes—that golden era of late-’80s and early-’90s pop when singers had massive records that were vocally impressive but also danceable, and the production quality was very intentional. I think it\'s a work of art. It’s a masterpiece.” **“I Love You Bitch”** “‘I Love You Bitch’ came from a tweet, and it\'s not the same as ‘Truth Hurts,’ so don\'t come at me for royalties, Twitter. Shortly after ‘Rumors’ with Cardi B dropped, Cardi tweeted that she wanted to hear a love song from me next. And I was like, ‘Okay, if Lizzo did a love song, what would it be? I love you, bitch?’ It was one of those rare times where I had the title before the song. I got in the studio with Omer Fedi and Blake Slatkin and told them about my idea. Omer started playing the guitar, and I started freestyling to it. I\'m from Houston, and there\'s this Houston rapper named Z-Ro who has a song called ‘I Hate U Bitch.’ Suddenly I was like, hold up, what if I sang the ‘I Hate U Bitch’ melody but said ‘I Love You Bitch’ instead? It just came out, and it might be the greatest thing we’ve ever done. As I was writing the lyrics, I realized that I wanted to write a universal love song—one you could sing to the person you\'re fucking and your best friend, to your family or to someone you just met at a bar.” **“Special”** “After ‘Rumors,’ I received a lot of backlash. I think it was because people hadn\'t heard from me since *Cuz I Love You* and this was their opportunity to attack me because I was visible, you know? But I turn my pain into music. I turn my pain into profit. I make it work for me. So I went into the studio to write a song for myself that would remind me how special I am. In the second verse, I say, ‘Could you imagine a world where everybody\'s the same? And you could cancel a girl ’cause she just wanted to change? How could you throw fucking stones if you ain\'t been through her pain? That\'s why we feel so alone, that\'s why we feel so much shame.’ I was trying to flip the mirror on people, that same mirror that I check myself with. It’s me saying, ‘You attack people like they\'re the monster, but you\'ve become the monster.’ No one\'s giving anyone the space to be themselves, to show their specialness, and to grow.” **“Break Up Twice”** “This is my second dream collab: Mark Ronson. And let me tell you, this is quintessential Mark. His style and swag is inescapable. Working with him made me feel like a kid again, because you just jam. And I used to be in a rock band, so that’s my bread and butter. When I first heard the guitar part, I was like, ‘This is classic shit right here.’ And when I heard those Lauryn Hill ‘Doo Wop’ chords, I was like, ‘Do we run from this or lean into it?’ You’ve got to lean into it. She cleared it in a day and I was beside myself. The story behind it is like, I’d had a barbecue and one of my friends threatened the guy I invited. She was like, ‘If you fuck with her, I\'m gonna slash your tires.’ I was like, ‘Hell yeah.’ I took it into the studio and Mark thought it was brilliant. The idea is: I don\'t break up twice. We\'re only going to do this once, and we\'re going to do it right.” **“Everybody\'s Gay”** “I wanted to write a fantasy song, like one of those Hollywood songs where you\'re taken away to a picture that I\'m painting, a dream sequence kind of thing. It\'s very cinematic. I wanted to write about this wild costume party where everybody gets together and has a good time. And no, when I sing ‘Take your mask off,’ I didn\'t mean your N95. I meant like the mask of the person that you have to uphold when you\'re out in the world, the mask that protects your true self. Take that off, because we accept you for who you are in this space. This high-key is the centerpiece of the album, musically, for me. It\'s a cornucopia of sound.” **“Naked”** “Goddammit, where do I even start? Pop Wansel made this beautiful track, and I was like, ‘If I don\'t use this track, I\'m going to think about this for the rest of my life. If I don\'t use this beat, I\'m going to think about this beat for the rest of my life.’ Initially, I wanted to write a song about how comfortable I\'ve become with myself, but then I evolved as a person. And as I’ve evolved, ‘Naked’ has undergone a lot of rewriting. It has evolved with me. So now it’s like, ‘How accepting are you of me?’ It’s very intimate. I saw Solange perform a couple years ago now at the Lovebox Festival in London, and I was in awe of her set because she had so much nuance. Meanwhile, I\'m all bravado. I\'m in-your-face, loud-loud-loud, full-throttle. I was like, ‘Man, on my next album, I want nuance.’ Because there\'s nothing like the control that she has, the power she has in the quiet. So on ‘Naked,’ I\'m in a half-falsetto for most of the song. I’m ad-libbing here and there. I’m having a little chat. It’s under your breath. Also, I had a sinus infection when I sang this, and frankly I give the best vocals with a sinus infection.” **“Birthday Girl”** “I did this with \[production duo\] Monsters & Strangerz, and it all came from a freestyle. I was like, ‘Is it your birthday, girl? ’Cause you lookin\' like a present.’ I literally think I freestyled that. And they were like, ‘Whoa.’ Mind you, the song wasn\'t about birthdays. I thought it was going to be like the first line of the first verse but then I’d go on to talk about how fine my friends are and whatever. And they were like, ‘No, no, this is the song.’ I felt tied to the song’s initial concept, which was to celebrate my friends and how much I love and appreciate them, but then I realized that birthdays symbolize that. Birthdays are a big deal for me. Every friend that I have, I try to make their birthday the biggest blowout every year. Helicopters, Omarion. Lizards. Three-tiered cakes. Like I say in the song, ‘When you\'ve been through the most/You got to do the most.’ That\'s an Instagram caption for life.” **“If You Love Me”** “This was the first song I wrote for the album, and it was something I needed to get off my chest. It’s about all of the times I go onstage and talk to the crowd and am like, ‘You guys show me so much love, so much support, and I want to thank you for supporting a woman who looks like me—a big Black woman from Houston, Texas. If you could show this same energy to people who look like me but who aren’t Lizzo, who aren’t dancing onstage and entertaining you... If you could show it to a woman on the street, show her some love and respect...’ Because historically, that hasn\'t been the case. It’s asking: How do we take the time to be kind to ourselves and kind to the person next to us, no matter what they look like or where they come from? How can we take this respect that we give to entertainers and apply it to people in the real world? This is a record that fans who\'ve been following me for a long time will get it as soon as they hear it.” **“Coldplay”** “This song was literally created from a 45-minute freestyle to a piano loop. Ricky Reed had me sit in the booth and just talk, so I started romanticizing about this trip I’d just taken to Tulum, about the experiences I’d had and how I was singing Coldplay and crying. A few weeks later, he was like, ‘Hey, you remember that freestyle you said in the booth? I wrote a song using your words.’ He played me a track that sampled Coldplay’s ‘Yellow’ and I was like, ‘Whoa, this is crazy.’ Ricky was like, ‘We should call this “My Love Is You.”’ And I was like, ‘Nah, we should call it “Coldplay.”’ Because I\'m going to tell you: Black people call people the name of their band. We call Adam Levine ‘Maroon 5.’ ‘Oh, there goes Maroon 5.’ I thought there was something funny and real about calling a song that samples Coldplay ‘Coldplay.’ Their songwriting is so simple and poetic. So I was like, ‘Let\'s honor them. Let\'s not run from it.’ On this album, I didn\'t run from anything. If there’s a thesis to this album, it’s that. Embracing myself.”

Track 1 recorded by Nico Wilson and Stu Mackenzie Track 2, 3, 4, 5, 7 recorded by Stu Mackenzie Track 6 recorded by Sam Joseph Mixed by Stu Mackenzie Produced by Stu Mackenzie Mastered by Joe Carra King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard is: Mickey Cavanagh Cookie Craig Lukey Harwood Amby Kenny-Smith Stu Mackenzie Joey Walker Recorded between 2017 - 2022 in various studios, home studios, buses, hotel rooms, green rooms, planes, parking lots etc… Photography and design by Jason Galea