New career heights for a lot of these artists...:
11. Kevin Abstract BLUSH:
where ‘Blanket’ worked in laser-focused, genre committed increments, ‘Blush’ entertains more chaotic instincts, the huge array of contributors’ proof of this. The strongest moments of ‘Blush’ arise in its artistry rather than precision. Abstract and co have cast a wide net, a technicolour palette of genre, soundscapes and feelings. ‘Blush’ opens up Kevin Abstract’s genre agnostic sensibilities further, but this time the sense of community and belonging threads the needle beautifully. (CLASH MUSIC)
12. Quadeca VANISHER, HORIZON SCRAPER:
the irony of Vanisher is that Quadeca’s trying to solve the unsolvable, packaging the complexities of life and adulthood into a pat allegory about a man and an ocean that seems to contain the world. Surrendering to life would really mean something messier, unfinished, genuinely inscrutable, and out-there. Still, there are many moments where the weight of the sound and symbols disappears, and all we’re left with is a potent hit of euphoria. Quadeca and Olēka sound like twin angels on “Waging War,” willowy vocals wrapping around each other like cursive scripture. At one perfect point, Quadeca shatters into pixelated pieces, every mutilated word shadowed by cries. “I surrender to my heart,” he finally sings, and the instrumentation falls away. It sounds like giving yourself over to the waves and drifting off into the horizon. (PITCHFORK)
13. Jade THAT’S SHOWBIZ BABY!:
a surprisingly kaleidoscopic pop record that felt fresh without feeling over-labored. Despite its title, a majority of the album is about love and heartbreak, with "Headache" being a slinky little track about loving someone even when they're annoying, and the Robyn-esque "Self Saboteur" about crashing a relationship for reasons the narrator is still trying to figure out. There are a lot of complicated feelings on Jade Thirlwall's debut, and by not taking the easy route with her artistry, she is going to be staying in SHOWBIZ for a very long time. (YARDBARKER)
14. Doja Cat VIE:
with “Vie,” her fifth studio album, Doja Cat surpassed expectations with a project that imbues ’80s fun with her signature brand of innovative rap, melodies and ideas. She brings a driving and breathless feel to “Aaahh Men!” and turns to a synthy, upbeat vibe on “Jealous Type” and goes to a slowed-down groove with “Acts of Service.” If Doja’s fourth album “Scarlet” was her darker, straightforward hip-hop record, then “Vie” takes her fans a little closer to her pop-focused works like “Planet Her” and “Hot Pink.” But Doja Cat is still doing some of her best work on this album, no matter where your genre affinities sit. For music fans who want artists to continually grow and experiment with different sounds, Doja Cat is a top contender among artists who are pushing the limits in a way that will always keep us coming back for more. (HUFFPOST)
15. Rose Gray LOUDER, PLEASE:
on ‘Louder, Please’, Gray’s music has finally caught up with her lifestyle. The crackly sounds of the underground finally have their unfiltered moments, while her long-standing pop sensibilities still retain their place through respectable chorus hooks and addictive melodies (her classical vocal training is also clear for all to see). Gray has too many strings to her bow to lay down one overarching, definitive statement. As such, ‘Louder, Please’ is more of a dare than an instruction: follow her down this rabbit hole, and brace yourself for where she ends up. (NME)
16. Lily Allen WEST END GIRL:
one of the rawest narratives to emerge in pop this year, Allen’s “West End Girl” is an unflinchingly candid divorce album with lots to give. Across 14 sharply crafted tracks, she charts the progression from dawning awareness to outright liberation, weaving autobiography and invention. The spiked wit of “4Chan Stan” cuts straight through the noise, while “Relapse” transforms heartbreak into a battle against self-undoing. Songs like “Dallas Major” push the concept further, weaponizing hooks to confront dead ends in love, motherhood and public scrutiny. It’s some of the best pop songwriting of the year, doubling as a public testimony that’s impossible to turn off. (VARIETY)
17. Ghais Guevara GOYARD IBN SAID:
structured in two acts, Guevara’s concept piece follows a fictional anti-hero who rises from corner rap star to luxury-brand demigod before watching the spoils curdle. Act I’s centerpiece “The Old Guard Is Dead” pairs roiling trap drum-programming with a compressed soul sample that sounds like vinyl spun backwards; Guevara rips through double-time boasts only to undercut them with “Aim for the moon, rose from the gallows”—a couplet that frames triumph as execution by another name. Act II flips the palette: “Leprosy” slows the tempo, substituting hazy guitar chops while he sneers, “actions don’t match their lyrics,” a self-indictment as much as industry critique. Throughout, his flows dart between Philly street punchlines and West African griot cadence, a nod to the historical Ibn Said, whose name he borrows. By finale “I Gazed Upon the Trap with Ambition,” the beats have thinned to skeletal clicks, and Guevara’s voice fractures into half-sung laments, the anti-hero finally staring into luxury’s hollow center. The narrative gambit never feels forced because Guevara’s technical fireworks—polysyllabic rhyme chains, sudden meter shifts—keep the story wired to the adrenal rush of outstanding rap records. (SHATTERTHESTANDARDS)
18. Sudan Archives THE BPM:
on the surface, The BPM is a relatively accessible dance album, and Archives is far from the first artist to treat the nightclub as home. But it also features some uncommonly harsh sounds: Buzzing noises fill up the album’s empty spaces (these songs are best consumed on headphones), giving the proceedings a hallucinatory edge. The BPM finds excitement in disintegration, evoking a night out where druggy euphoria keeps threatening to morph into something more dangerous. hroughout the album, both the singer and the music itself are constantly on edge, and yet The BPM pulses with the kind of euphoria that can only come from letting loose on the dance floor. (SLANT MAGAZINE)
19. Kali Uchis SINCERELY:
the acceptance Uchis finds on the latter half of the album doesn’t come at the expense of the chaos and insecurity she sings about earlier on. It’s all there, together: love and hurt, heaven and earth, birth and loss. These contradictions reach their full apotheosis on “ILYSMIH,” which stands for “I love you so much it hurts” and is dedicated to her son: “He showed me what my life was really worth/Down here on earth/ And it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.” His giggling “mama” closes the album, a last word that’s also a first word. (ROLLING STONE)
20 Panda Bear SINISTER GRIFT:
more textbook and recognizable than most of Lennox’s previous efforts, full of well-crafted, old-school rock motifs and kinetic immediacy. Though he went three-for-three on pre-release singles, the first 12 minutes of Sinister Grift is among Panda Bear’s finest work, especially the 20/20, “Time to Get Alone” and “I Can Hear Music”-conjuring opener “Praise” and the left-field dub-pop that reinvents the conventions of “50mg.” Too, these songs offer a look into a vulnerable side of Lennox we’ve rarely encountered, as he fixates on love through different intervals of separation, be it divorce or the things that were said but not meant. This music isn’t broken, though; only bruised. (PASTE)
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