Strings and other orchestral elements add a soaring sense of adventure to prolific Melbourne ensemble King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard’s 27th studio album. Recorded concurrently with 2024’s *Flight b741*, *Phantom Island* was made in collaboration with composer Chad Kelly and a full orchestra. Yet, there’s plenty of room for loving forays into psych, boogie rock, and other fertile territory. The opening title track even flirts with cinematic jazz in the manner of Quincy Jones or David Axelrod, before “Deadstick” leans into the interplay between guitars and horns as singer Stu Mackenzie nails some particularly pleasing falsetto. Taking flight is a recurring theme on the album, as heard on “Aerodynamic” and “Grow Wings and Fly.” Layered vocals make “Eternal Return” especially lush, with the lyrics saluting the touring life while still longing for the gum leaves and unpredictable weather of Melbourne. And between warm hand drums and funky guitar flourishes, “Panpsych” feels like the sonic equivalent of comfort food. Having played together across so many albums and tours, it’s only natural that the band members are beautifully in harmony as Kelly’s agile arrangements guide these jammy songs skyward.

In July 2024, Queens of the Stone Age descended underneath Paris for a unique unplugged performance to an audience of six million...corpses. Founder Joshua Homme says his interest in the city’s famous catacombs began in childhood and it became a dream to play there. “Obviously, in the simplest terms, there’s a bunch of bodies and they’re stacked in a certain manner,” he tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. Recording in a subterranean cemetery filled with over six million skeletal remains proved challenging, but Homme had a “desire for it to have this improv element to it.” Ultimately, the morbid setting helped turn their hard rock anthems into haunting, acoustic balladry. “It’s very ASMR in there,” he says. “When you’re playing something that’s stripped down to the bones, and I guess in front of people that are stripped to the bones too, it just felt intuitively like this should be \[like\] there’s almost nothing being performed. Everything is more important somehow. When you’re doing that, the ceiling’s dripping and the camera people were walking and it’s crunching on the ground, it becomes part of the performance.” The songs on the EP date back from 2005’s *Lullabies to Paralyze* (“I Never Came”) to 2023’s *In Times New Roman...* (“Paper Machete”), befitting a catalog that, over the course of nearly three decades, has had no shortage of songs that would lend themselves to sparse funeral dirges. (For reasons only Homme can explain, 2002’s “Song for the Dead” is not among them.) In place of loud guitars and drums are mournful strings and understated percussion; Homme’s soulful wail, however, needs no reinvention for the venue. But in this instance, the music itself isn’t the main draw for Homme. “The bigger truth is that the catacombs is so the protagonist,” he says. “It’s so overwhelming that we’re also there and we’re playing, but it felt like at all times that we were just serving this audience, which really deserved attention. People are viewing it a bit like a zoo in a way, but this was like, ‘I brung something for you. I got you this thing, and can I show it to you?’ It felt like we were having this moment together.”

Who knows if hip-hop would’ve ever made it this far without Slick Rick? A style icon, rhyme maestro, and gifted storyteller, the London-born rapper/producer set the tone in the mid-’80s as Ricky D alongside Doug E. Fresh in The Get Fresh Crew. By the end of that decade, he’d transcended those auspicious beginnings with the full-length solo debut under his now best-known moniker, *The Great Adventures of Slick Rick*. In the more than three and a half decades since that album, a lot changed in the genre as well as in his personal and professional lives. Yet over all those years, even as his output slowed or stalled, respect for The Ruler never waned. For *VICTORY*, his first album since 1999’s *The Art of Storytelling*, a 60-year-old Rick doesn’t even try to play in the contentious spaces currently occupied by viral drill and trap stars. Instead, he’s back for the love of the rap game, choosing playful production to match his seasoned flow. Lest anyone need an introduction, “I Did That” runs through his résumé with ease before dipping into clubland for “Come On Let’s Go.” The unmistakeable spark of his narrative rap greatness flicks on once again for “Landlord,” a witty if scathing barrage of rent-due anecdotes timed for the first of the month, and “So You’re Having My Baby,” a jazzy chronicle that packs plenty in scarce little time. Even his guest selection, while highly limited, speaks to his own exquisite tastes rather than the marketplace, with Giggs popping in for “Stress” and Nas putting his stamp on “Documents.”

When a rock band releases a remix album, it’s often treated like an afterthought, with execs enlisting high-profile dance producers to slap new beats onto old singles and promoting them to club audiences who wouldn’t typically buy rock albums. This has never been the case for The Cure’s remix albums. Ever since their first—1990’s *Mixed Up*, which yielded the Balearic classic “Lullaby (Extended Mix)”—the band’s singer and principal songwriter, Robert Smith, has had a close hand in the process, doing many of the mixes himself. The tracks rarely veer into proper club-music territory. Instead, certain motifs are teased out and built upon, and are occasionally augmented with new instruments or lengthened for more languid DJ sets. The band’s third remix album generally hews to that ethos. Even a towering name like Paul Oakenfold (who previously remixed “Close to Me” on *Mixed Up*) treats “I Can Never Say Goodbye” with a light touch, delicately accentuating its majestic vibe, while Orbital gives the downcast “Endsong” just a dab of industrial grit. Daniel Avery seems to even tone down the aggressive guitars and drums of “Drone:Nodrone” for his slightly more propulsive version. There is, of course, a lot of variation across these 24 remixes (each of *Mixes of a Lost World*’s eight tracks gets three), and it comes most notably in the form of more traditional dance remixes. But rather than seeming like a crass attempt to gain favor in other musical spheres, Smith’s list of respected electronic music producers here indicates just how deeply his tastes run. Germans Anja Schneider, Gregor Thresher, and Âme manage to turn Smith’s tunes into restrained and elegant techno and house cuts, while Four Tet gives “Alone\" some of his signature garage-y shuffle.

Turnstile is hardly the first band raised in a tight-knit DIY hardcore punk scene to graduate to big-tent popularity and grapple with what that success should look like. For the Baltimore-based five-piece, a stint opening for blink-182’s 2023 reunion tour served as a hands-on apprenticeship. “That summer was definitely a master class of existing in that space,” Turnstile bassist Franz Lyons tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “Riding with blink, they’re great people, but also their supporting cast—everything they do behind the scenes is very sharp, and it was cool to be in a situation where you have to learn how to mend your creative way to a different lens.” These lessons all came in handy in the making of their fourth album, *NEVER ENOUGH*, which doubles down on the genre-expanding—and, subsequently, audience-expanding—twists of 2021’s breakthrough *GLOW ON* and throws in an ambitious visual-album component that ties all 14 songs together. Among those songs are not just the tuneful, heavy midtempo anthems like the title track and “DULL” and hopped-up hardcore like “BIRDS” and “SUNSHOWER” that made *GLOW ON* stand out, but even bolder stylistic gambits like “I CARE” and “SEEIN’ STARS,” which channel The Smiths and The Police, respectively. The nearly seven-minute centerpiece “LOOK OUT FOR ME” somehow seems to incorporate bits of all of these at once. For singer Brendan Yates, who also produced the album, this is all part of a more thoughtful, confident, and collaborative approach to songwriting that was certainly helped by the luxury of having more time—and more resources—to let ideas evolve. “If there is a song that’s just very simple and you’re like, ‘This doesn’t sound like anything we’ve ever done, and maybe people are going to hate this, but the intangible is really there for me right now,’” he says. “So it’s like embracing that.” And sometimes trying new and more daring things also means throwing all those away in the end. Yates cites the album-closing “MAGIC MAN” as a song that began as a demo with just himself and a synth, expanded and contracted through many more iterations, and ultimately wound up as…just himself and a synth. Turnstile credits their versatility and trust in one another to having spent half their lives in Baltimore’s punk scene learning instruments on the fly, playing in multiple bands at once, and innately understanding the importance of community. These lessons, too, come in handy as the band begins to find themselves headlining the kinds of venues—possibly with pit-unfriendly seats—where they very recently were guests. What looks from the outside like complex ambition really is, from the band’s vantage point, little more than close friends with shared history indulging one another’s biggest swings. “When trust is your really big element that makes things function easily, that involves people’s happiness, too,” says Yates. “And being able to just be happy to do what you’re doing and be happy looking forward to what you’re about to do, it requires a certain amount of willingness to throw yourself into the deep end.”

Introduced to the world as a bubbly TikTok influencer, the singer/dancer/actor spent 2024 pulling off what looked like a total reinvention—screaming over the remix of mentor Charli xcx’s “Von dutch” remix, then releasing the steamy “Diet Pepsi,” a single charming enough to seduce even the doubters. In fact, Addison Rae was just reintroducing herself. “I always knew that I wanted to make music, I knew I wanted to perform,” Rae tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “That was something that was really obvious to me since I was a little girl.” And TikTok was the best way for a teenager from Lafayette, Louisiana, to catapult herself into the seemingly inaccessible world of showbiz. Pursuing her pop-star dreams in LA studio sessions to write the songs that would become her first EP (2023’s polarizing *AR*), Rae found herself deferring to the professionals. “When I moved here and started doing sessions, I was like, ‘I need as much guidance as possible,’” she says. “Then, over time, I really started to lean on myself. I really started to lean on my abilities.” In February 2024, Rae met songwriter/producers Elvira Anderfjärd and Luka Kloser (both part of the publishing camp of Swedish pop powerhouse Max Martin) and wrote the effervescent hook of “Diet Pepsi” that same day. “\[‘Diet Pepsi’\] was such a natural beginning to all of this,” says Rae. “I think it was a perfect introduction in so many ways.” Cue a string of curveball singles, each one presenting an unexpected new facet, from the moody, minor-key “High Fashion” to the Björk-inspired “Headphones On.” It feels apt, then, that her debut album drops the “Rae” and simply goes by *Addison*—a collection of dreamy, intense pop songs that sound like self-discovery, tied together less by genre than by mood. Tracks like “Fame Is a Gun” and “Money Is Everything” expertly straddle camp and sincerity: “You’ve got a front-row seat, and I/I got a taste of the glamorous life!” she winks on the former, a dizzy synth-pop number on the perils of hitting the big time. The songs on *Addison* are not exactly club bangers, though they’re informed by Rae’s childhood as a dancer; nor are any of them obvious hits. But Rae relished the opportunity to let her creative instincts run wild. “Once you start playing it safe, feeling like, ‘Okay, I’m going to respond with what people want,’ you lose all your freedom,” she says. “You lose all desire for the whole purpose of starting it, and feeling like it’s a form of expression and a reflection. It’s more scary to let that go and give people exactly what they think they want.” As for what Rae learned in the process of writing the album? “Let yourself play. Let yourself have fun, let yourself mess up,” she says. “I’m not saying, ‘All right, this is the real me now.’ No—it’s always been the real me, and those experiences have completely guided and shaped me to where I am now. It is about arrival—arrival to who I feel like I’ve become, and who has experienced all these ups and downs, to now land here, in this person that I am now.”

Hip-hop loves a franchise, and arguably none deserves more of that adoration than Lil Wayne’s *Tha Carter*. Plenty of rappers have gone the sequels route in the hopes of recapturing a vibe or reinvigorating a fanbase, but the first four installments of the Young Money impresario’s album series hit the culture like monumental events. The exhaustive way in which this quartet was discussed, dissected, ranked, and re-ranked by listeners and critics alike almost eclipsed their chart successes, securing Weezy’s spot in the G.O.A.T. debate forever. The seven-year gap between the fourth and fifth volumes felt like an eternity, especially as focus shifted towards fresh stars and new sounds. Yet even that wait came with a massive payoff—not rebooting the saga to suit the times but continuing his story in a way only he could. Another seven years may have passed, with a handful of mixtapes in between, yet this sixth volume proves well worth the wait. After the brief albeit maximalist opener “King Carter,” those who’ve missed his powerful punchlines and rich rhyme schemes are immediately rewarded with the triumphant “Welcome to Tha Carter.” As should be expected this deep into his storied career, his proverbial pen prevails on “Banned from NO” and “Peanuts 2 N Elephant,” just two examples of his devotion to the MC craft. Longtime fans will rejoice over the Mannie Fresh team-up “Bein Myself,” while those unsure of how a fortysomething Wayne fits into the contemporary mix will be corrected swiftly on the Wheezy-produced “Rari.” Though some vocally resisted his literal rock-star tendencies on records like 2010’s *Rebirth*, he remains committed to that side of his artistry. Starting with the opening moments of “Bells,” he reminds everyone listening that rap and rock share genetic material before wrapping his wordplay around an ’80s-informed flow. Mixing Weezy with Weezer, the inventive interpolation “Island Holiday” starts out like a faithful cover song until he swaps out the “hip hip” with “sip sip” and proceeds to make it his own. After a ruthless two-and-a-half-minute streak of bars, “Loki’s Theme” drops an unexpected swell of guitar soloing, leading directly into the acoustic balladry of “If I Played Guitar.” Considering his guest list includes Bono and Jelly Roll alongside Big Sean and BigXthaPlug, not to mention operatic pop icon Andrea Bocelli, clearly no one genre can contain the force that is Lil Wayne.

In the two and a half years since 2022’s *NO THANK YOU*, Little Simz attempted to write its follow-up four times, to no avail. From the outside, the London native was at the top of her game. Since 2021’s game-changing fourth album, *Sometimes I Might Be Introvert*, she’d won a Mercury Prize, owned the Glastonbury stage, and earned a spot among the power players of UK rap. But privately, her personal life was imploding. In 2025, word spread of the lawsuit Simz had filed against Inflo, the childhood friend and longtime collaborator who’d produced her last three albums, for allegedly failing to repay a 1.7-million-pound loan. The betrayal left the rapper at a loss, as she recounts on “Lonely”: “Sitting in the studio with my head in my hands/Thinking what am I to do with this music I can’t write?” From this turmoil, the 31-year-old musician arrived at a breakthrough that manifests on her sixth album, *Lotus*—named for the flower that thrives in muddy waters. Here Simz pulls no punches on the topic of her former friend, snarling her way through the bluesy opener “Thief” (“This person I’ve known my whole life, coming like the devil in disguise”) and the eerie “Flood,” produced by Miles Clinton James with cameos from Nigerian British pop star Obongjayar and South Africa’s Moonchild Sanelly. But the mood lifts on tracks like “Young,” a bit of post-punk method rapping on being dumb, broke, and alive (“A bottle of Rio and some chicken and chips/In my fuck-me-up pumps and my Winehouse quiff”), and on “Free,” a jazzy boom-bap meditation on love versus fear, on which Simz reaches a cathartic conclusion: “Love is every time I put pen to the page.”

Certainly, any Pulp fan who caught the long-dormant Britpop legends on their 2024 reunion tour would’ve been completely satisfied with just hearing the ’90s classics we never thought we’d get to hear performed live again. But the surprise inclusion of some new tunes on the set list made it clear Jarvis Cocker and co. were not interested in being a mere nostalgia act. And now, less than a year later, Pulp has gifted us with a new album—and while it arrives 24 years after their last one, *More* actually came together with unprecedented expedience. “The previous two Pulp records \[2001’s *We Love Life* and 1998’s *This Is Hardcore*\] had a bit of a concept for them, and that slowed everything down,” Cocker tells Apple Music. “And this time I just thought, let’s not think about it. Let’s do it. And then you’ve got a lot of time to think about it later. Like the rest of your life, for instance.” With *More*, Pulp carries on as if the first two decades of the 21st century never happened, restoring their singular balance of disco decadence (“Spike Island,” “Got to Have Love”) and string-swept elegance (“Tina,” “Farmers Market”). As the elder black sheep of Britpop, Pulp always possessed a self-deprecating wit and lived-in wisdom that distinguished them from their more brash, lager-swilling peers, and as such, they were always less interested in glorifying youthful hedonism than probing adult relationships. So they can effortlessly reclaim their role as Britain’s shrewdest observers of social manners and misbehavior even as Cocker has crossed the threshold into his sixties. *More* is imbued with the simmering anxieties of a singer who knows he’s not getting any younger: Echoing the streetwise strut of Iggy Pop’s “The Passenger,” the urgent “Grown Ups” finds the guy who once sang “Help the Aged” starting to “stress about wrinkles instead of acne” himself, while the Spector-esque splendor of “Background Noise” closes the curtain on a long-term coupling where familiary has curdled into contempt. But even by the group’s sophisticated standards, piano ballad “The Hymn of the North” (featuring Chilly Gonzales) is a breathtaking display of melancholy and majesty that affirms Pulp is still in a different class all their own.

Perpetually operating in a wondrous and woozy space for some two decades, Black Moth Super Rainbow serves as an essential part of the independent psychedelic music underground. Though sometimes their trips take darker turns, as on 2018’s *Panic Blooms*, the Pennsylvania-based act’s seventh album *Soft New Magic Dream* returns to a more blissed-out environment. Here, lead vocalist Thomas Fec, also known as Tobacco, returns from making left-field hip-hop with Aesop Rock as Malibu Ken and composing video game soundtracks with a brand-new love burrowing into his frontal lobe. The results always feel structurally damaged and actively decaying. As such, even the poppiest songs on the record seem capable of collapsing into themselves. “The Eyes in Season” and “Unknown Potion” nearly lose their inherent boom-bap structure in acidic, synthy gobs and heartfelt yet vocoded lyrics. Two of the more rock-oriented cuts, “Brain Waster” and “Wet Spot Dare,” cling to drums and basslines for dear life, the alternative being a chance to truly let oneself go and see what happens.

Lifeguard’s *Ripped and Torn* is an impressive and indelible debut in a long legacy of rock bands making noise sound like an energizing good time—from British post-punk greats Wire and American legends Sonic Youth to 2010s lo-fi heroes like Women and Male Bonding. The Chicago trio of Asher Case, Isaac Lowenstein, and Kai Slater (who also makes music as the buzzy indie-pop project Sharp Pins) have been making music together since junior high, and *Ripped and Torn* sounds suitably locked-in even as its creators channel brash, challenging avant-rock sounds that equally recall the 1980s NYC no-wave scene and post-rock forebears This Heat. If that sounds intimidating, rest assured: Lifeguard is as tuneful as they are tormented-sounding, as evidenced by the peppy and caffeinated punk rock of “It Will Get Worse”—a song title that’s droll, cheeky, and the exact opposite of what to expect from these upstarts as they continue their ascent.