Electronic Albums That Reward a Second Listen

Abstract electronic album artwork with synth textures

The best electronic albums rarely explain themselves in the first ten minutes. They invite you in with texture, rhythm and movement, then reveal their real shape after the second or third listen. That is part of what keeps the format alive in a playlist-heavy era: a single track can introduce a mood, but an album lets that mood develop, fracture and return with more meaning.

Why patience matters

Electronic music is often judged by immediate impact. A bass line either hits or it does not; a hook either sticks or disappears. Albums ask for a slightly different kind of attention. The opener sets the palette, the middle stretch tests how far the artist can bend it, and the closing track usually tells you whether the idea had enough emotional weight to justify the journey.

That is especially true for records built around minimal percussion, ambient passages or slow harmonic shifts. On first listen, they can seem restrained. On repeat listens, small choices become central: a synth line that returns in a lower register, a kick pattern that disappears for a whole verse, a vocal sample that stops sounding decorative and starts sounding like the point of the song.

The album as a room

A strong electronic album feels less like a queue of tracks and more like a room you learn how to move through. The best ones create contrast without breaking their own atmosphere. They know when to make the floor shake, but also when to let the air thin out. That sense of space is what separates a good release from a collection of useful tracks.

For listeners, the reward is simple: give the record time before deciding what it is. Let the quieter transitions do their work. Let the repeated motifs become familiar. If the album is built well, the second listen will not simply confirm the first. It will change it.

15 Bass Music Albums to Power Your Workout in 2026

Top 15 Bass-Heavy Workout Albums (Ranked by Intensity)

1. Hybrid Riot – “Neuro Bass Assault” (2026)

Genre: Neurofunk / Drum & Bass | Avg BPM: 174
Album cover alt: Hybrid Riot in full gear dropping neck-snapping neurofunk bass.

  • Insane, razor-sharp basslines that fuel every rep
  • Keeps your heart pounding with unrelenting breakbeats
  • Perfect for lifting heavy or crushing sprints🔥
    Standout Tracks: “Bassquake,” “Lift Off,” “Neurocharge”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 9.5/10

2. Rusko – “Riddim Revolt” (2026)

Genre: Dubstep / Riddim | Avg BPM: 140
Album cover alt: Rusko’s fiery riddim bass shaking the gym ceilings.

  • Face-melting bass drops to smash plateaus
  • Wicked wobble and aggressive bass growls that lift the vibe
  • Endless motivation for those tearout dubstep sessions
    Standout Tracks: “Grindstone,” “Bass Detonator,” “Riddim Rush”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 9/10

3. Noisia – “Split The Atom 2.0” (2022)

Genre: Neurofunk / Drum & Bass | Avg BPM: 172
Album cover alt: Noisia’s signature dark bass smashing through speakers.

  • Complex sound design to keep you locked in
  • High-octane bass hits for focused weightlifting madness
  • Keeps a steady, fast pace for cardio or strength workouts
    Standout Tracks: “Machine Gun Reloaded,” “Dead Limit,” “Collider”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 9.3/10

4. Flosstradamus – “BASSHEAD HYPE” (2026)

Genre: Bass House / Trap | Avg BPM: 130
Album cover alt: Flosstradamus throwing down bass house beats that hit like a wrecking ball.

  • Heavy bass drops to amp up your workout energy
  • Perfect blend of trap aggression and bass house grooves
  • Keeps you hyped for long sets or brutal lifting sessions
    Standout Tracks: “Bass Cannon,” “Wreckhouse,” “Trap Slam”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 8.7/10

5. Virtual Riot – “Bassline Madness” (2026)

Genre: Dubstep / Hybrid Trap | Avg BPM: 142
Album cover alt: Virtual Riot flexing heavy bass drops and glitchy synths.

  • Raw energy that makes you want to deadlift a truck
  • Hybrid trap influences offer big melodic breaks between brutal bass hits
  • Perfect for those mid-workout peak moments
    Standout Tracks: “Face Melter,” “Glitch Banger,” “Bassline Frenzy”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 8.9/10

Quick Intensity Ratings

  • 9.5 – Hybrid Riot – Neuro Bass Assault
  • 9.3 – Noisia – Split The Atom 2.0
  • 9.0 – Rusko – Riddim Revolt
  • 8.9 – Virtual Riot – Bassline Madness
  • 8.7 – Flosstradamus – BASSHEAD HYPE

Ready for a full-on bass assault in your next workout? These albums deliver the goods—massive drops, killer grooves, and relentless energy to power you through every set.

Bonus: 2026 Upcoming Bass Albums to Watch

Keeping your workout fresh means staying ahead with the newest bass-heavy releases. Here are some of the most anticipated 2026 bass albums that promise high energy and heavy drops to power your sessions:

  • Subtronics – Riddim Nation 3 (Bass, Dubstep, 150+ BPM)

    Expect aggressive bass drops and relentless riddim vibes, perfect for weightlifting and high-intensity cardio bursts.

  • Noisia – Outer Edges II (Neurofunk, Drum and Bass, 170 BPM)

    Following their groundbreaking sound, this neurofunk album is set to deliver sharp, dark basslines that push your limits.

  • Zeds Dead – Echoes (Bass House, Hybrid Trap, 140-150 BPM)

    A smooth blend of bass house and trap, ideal for warming up and maintaining momentum through mixed workout routines.

  • Excision – Apocalyptica (Heavy Dubstep, Bass, 140 BPM)

    Known for festival dubstep, this release promises earth-shaking bass drops to keep motivation high during intense lifting sessions.

  • REZZ – Hypnotic Frequencies (Mid-Tempo Bass, 110-130 BPM)

    For those preferring a groove-driven yet powerful bass workout vibe, this album offers hypnotic beats and deep basslines.

These albums are projected to redefine pre-workout music albums in 2026 with aggressive electronic music and heavy bass drops motivation that gym enthusiasts crave. Keep an eye out on streaming platforms like Spotify and Apple Music as these releases drop—you won’t want to miss adding them to your bass house gym playlist or neurofunk lifting music rotation.

How to Build the Ultimate Bass Workout Playlist from These Albums

Creating the perfect bass-heavy workout playlist takes more than just picking your favorite tracks. To keep energy high and motivation steady, structure your playlist with a clear flow—warm-up, peak, and cool-down. Here’s how to get the most out of the bass music albums featured:

Recommended Track Order for a 60-Minute Session

  • Warm-Up (0-15 mins): Start with tracks at a moderate BPM (around 120-130). Think bass house or hybrid trap with steady but controlled beats. This primes your muscles without burning out early.
  • Peak (15-45 mins): Time to crank it up! Use high-energy drum and bass, neurofunk, or heavy dubstep with BPM pushing 150-170+. This is where aggressive electronic music with heavy bass drops and riddim vibes will keep your intensity at max.
  • Cool-Down (45-60 mins): End with slightly slower bass tracks around 110-120 BPM to help your heart rate gradually drop. Choose more melodic or spacey bass tunes without losing groove.

BPM Ramp-Up Guide

  • Start light, increasing BPM by about 5-10 every 5 minutes during warm-up
  • Push your limits mid-session with consistent 160+ BPM bass music for cardio and weightlifting
  • Lower the BPM gradually in the last 15 minutes to avoid abrupt energy drops or muscle soreness

This approach mirrors the natural energy curve of a workout and taps into the power of pre-workout music albums and heavy bass drops motivation. Use streaming platforms like Spotify or Apple Music to customize your order easily and explore specific workouts matching the tempo.

With this playlist structure, your workout won’t just have sound—it’ll have the pulse of powerful bass music driving every rep and run.

Frequently Asked Questions

What BPM is best for lifting vs cardio?

  • For lifting and strength training, slower to moderate tempos around 120-140 BPM work best. They keep you focused and motivated without burning out too quickly.
  • For cardio and running, faster BPMs of 150-180+ provide the high energy and rhythm to keep your pace up, especially for drum and bass or bass-heavy running playlists.

Where can I download these albums offline?

  • Use official platforms like Spotify Premium, Apple Music, and Bandcamp for offline downloads. These services let you save full albums and playlists directly to your device for gym sessions without data use.
  • Always choose legitimate sources to support the artists and get quality audio files.

Are there cleaner (radio edit) versions for public gyms?

  • Many bass-heavy workout albums offer radio edits or clean versions on streaming services. These remove explicit lyrics and heavy profanity, making them suitable for public or family-friendly gym settings.
  • Check the album details or look for “clean” versions specifically if you need a more gym-appropriate mix.

What are the best headphones/earbuds for heavy bass in 2026?

  • Look for headphones with excellent bass response and noise isolation. Some top picks include:
    • Sony WH-1000XM5 – well-balanced with powerful bass and industry-leading noise cancellation.
    • Beats Fit Pro – super bass-heavy, perfect for EDM and bass house workouts.
    • Bose QuietComfort Earbuds II – clear sound with strong bass and comfort for long sessions.
  • Wireless earbuds that stay secure during movement are a big plus for workouts.
  • Avoid overly bright or treble-heavy headphones to maintain that low-end punch in your workout tracks.

Ezra Collective: Dance, No One’s Watching review – jazz champions play to their strengths

The jazz group that set the Mercury Prize alight last year return with an album that goes all in on infectious dance grooves. Their knack for melody seems to have been forgotten in the party, but this bloated record does conclude with the most moving track of this band’s career.

The level of study I devote to albums reviewed on this blog varies, but sometimes, like with this latest Ezra Collective album, I take my journalistic duties to give the entire record a fair hearing seriously: I sit down in a darkened room save for a dim desk lamp, scribbling details of every track in a notepad and staring blankly at Spotify as the highlighted song title gradually works its way down the track list. It took about 20 minutes of listening to Dance, No One’s Watching before I properly read the album title writ large across the top of the screen. Alone on a rainy night in my bedroom, it felt like an instruction addressed directly to me. In fact, cowering over a desk is the exact opposite effect of Ezra Collective’s third album which is, unsurprisingly, a heartfelt ode to the power of dancing.

Ezra are labelled a jazz act – and are the most commercially successful act in the nebulous genre of UK jazz by some margin – but anyone who’s seen the five Londoners take to a stage since their emergence five years ago will know compulsive dance grooves have always been an essential part of this band’s appeal. Their performance at last year’s Mercury Prize (fittingly of a song called Victory Dance) had the attendees in the cabaret seating setting aside their glasses of champagne to clap and frug along to the infectious Latin groove like the band members themselves. It was a joyful musical fireworks show that seemed to render the competition a forgone conclusion. Ezra Collective were destined to be the Mercury Prize’s first jazz champions, and they showed up ready to claim the trophy.

Unfortunately their follow-up album, Dance, No One’s Watching lacks a track quite as thrilling as Victory Dance, but there’s no shortage of peppy Afrobeat grooves to move your hips to. The standout is Ajala, named after a legendary Nigerian journalist who was so busy with his travels his name became Yoruba slang for someone who can’t sit still. It is a fittingly up-tempo, restless number, with Ife Ogunjobi and James Mollison’s skipping melodies played in blunt unison – Ezra Collective are a band far more concerned with delivering a straightforward good time than trying any fiddly counterpoint or melodic harmonies. Ajala has groove in buckets, but what it’s lacking is everything else that makes for a good jazz composition, namely an interesting B section (here the melody simply drops out for 16 bars) and a wild solo.

Ajala is far from the only track where Ezra Collective’s tunnel vision on producing a danceable groove leaves the melodies feeling underwritten. N29 is essentially just one (admittedly very funky) bass riff lacking in hardly any musical development at all, let alone a melody to hold on to. Opener The Herald starts promisingly enough, but again it’s as if they’ve forgotten to write half of the chorus, and Ogunjobi’s trumpet solo is given no room to grow. The devotion to a rock solid groove is admirable – and brothers Femi and TJ Koleoso are without a doubt one of the tightest drum and bass duos in the business – but it should be possible for a funky, repetitive groove and interesting harmonic shifts to exist in the same song.

Intriguingly, Yazmin Lacey and Olivia Dean’s featured tracks – two of the very finest voices on the UK jazz scene – offer a relatively restrained take on the dance-focused thesis. Lacey’s smoky tones are a fine match for the tender horn lines on God Gave Me Feet For Dancing, but with no-nonsense lyrics like “Give me bass line / Give me dollar wine” it’s odd the band don’t rise above a muted throb all song. Dean’s track, No One’s Watching Me is slinkier and sexier and features Ogunjobi’s best solo on the record – each note placed with unusual restraint and care – although Dean’s chorus is scant.

Further down a bloated track list, Shaking Body and Expensive offer a purple patch. The former is pure Ezra Collective joy and a natural successor to Victory Dance, with a Latin hook bubbly enough to justify its many repeats. Mastermind of the keyboard Joe Armon-Jones offers luscious jazz voicings typical of his brand of frantic genius, and Femi Koleoso’s hammering of the ride cymbal in the chorus is a joy to behold. Expensive improves on the light-footed Afrobeat of the record’s first half with intelligent, patient sax and trumpet solos that prove Ogunjobi and Mollison have done their jazz homework, moving beyond the crowd-pleasing screeches found on their most raucous party starters.

The penultimate track appears at first to be some surplus jazz musings from Armon-Jones on piano, but the song is called Have Patience for a reason – Everybody immediately follows, a magnificent album closer and one of the most beautiful tunes the band have ever penned. In an album lacking in strong melodies, here is a beauty: an elegant, sighing rise and fall, shimmering within Armon-Jones’ textured piano chords before emerging in a solemn trumpet line and, rousingly, a distant choir. Before long, Obunjobi and Mollison are up to what they do best – rapturous, euphoric improvisations that come together and fall apart again like two birds in flight. It’s a piece ripe for crowd participation and a poignant marker of how far they’ve come: a band with collective in the name, experts at uniting audiences from summer festivals to glamorous awards shows through dance and crowd participation. Dance, No One’s Watching may not go down as their finest record, but that precious Ezra Collective spirit remains alive and well.

‘Every bandmate is infusing their tastes into this album’: seven-strong pop collective Couch on their funky debut record

After years of virtual band meetings and drumming up buzz online, Boston band Couch look set to take over the world with a debut album of polished, meticulously crafted pop bops and a sprawling 36-date tour. They spoke to Undertone about launching a band during the Covid years, their vulnerable new single, and the tricky task of making music with seven songwriters.

The pandemic did strange things to the music industry. On the one hand, we saw a fresh wave of what was giddily termed the 2020s’ “disco revival”. Jessie Ware, Róisín Murphy, Lady Gaga and Dua Lipa all released unequivocally dancefloor-primed records that perversely chimed with listeners trapped indoors all day, pining for a hedonistic escape and a return to the wonderfully unhygienic surroundings of a cramped and sweaty nightclub. On the other hand, the pandemic was a prompt for many artists to return to their roots with homespun, introspective album recorded with minimal equipment from home studios. Paul McCartney’s stripped-back McCartney III had the man himself play all the instruments, Charli xcx was in a reflective mood on how i’m feeling now, and Adrienne Lenker’s understated magnum opus songs was entirely recorded in a cabin in rural Massachusetts. As with seemingly many other aspects of society, such a radical change was only temporary: a few years after releasing her own folksy and minimalist albums folklore and evermore to critical acclaim, Taylor Swift is firmly back to her stadium-filling former self.

Couch, meanwhile, were biding their time, patiently plotting their route to stardom. Purveyors of soulful pop in the vein of Vulfpeck, Sammy Rae and Lake Street Dive, the seven-strong group specialise exactly the kind of free-spirited disco and funk tunes that topped the charts in 2020. For them, however, the pandemic (as well as attending various colleges across the States) meant it was three years of intermittent band meetups and FaceTime calls before the Bostonians finally took to the stage together for the first time.

That may sound tedious, but it was a blessing in disguise, keyboardist Danny Silverston tells me. “Once Covid hit, a lot of bands were like ‘man, what do we do now?’, but for us it was like ‘we actually kind of know what to do now’. We got to spend some really quality time together, and it set us up pretty effectively for our first ever tour, which was pretty much like a slam dunk.” Guitarist Zach Blankstein, who doubles as the band’s manager, agrees. “We had that remote incubation period where we got to share our music with people and start to feel some external excitement. Getting everyone [in the band] to make themselves available to go tour eventually was easy because we were all excited to go do it and felt like was a long time coming by that point.”

Silverston and Blankstein, as well as bassist Will Griffin, speak to me partway through a 16 hour drive back to Boston from Asheville, North Carolina, where they’ve just performed a charity show. The band may still be relatively new, but they’re no strangers to this sort of long-distance touring, and their first trip to the UK – an impressively full-throttle show which Undertone was lucky enough to catch – was over two years ago. For Griffin, touring and songwriting go hand in hand. “Something that feels best for us in the rehearsal space might feel totally different on stage. It opens up different opportunities to explore variations of arrangement styles and grooves.” In fact, Couch’s huge upcoming tour, which starts in November, was booked well before the new record was even fully written. Other times, though, it’s the finished song that comes first. “But they’re definitely very connected processes, no matter which order they happen,” Blankstein adds.

Perhaps it’s a sign of Couch’s easy-going, fluid approach to songwriting that, as Blankstein admits, the new album Big Talk isn’t even finished by the time of our interview. The band’s exceptional attention to detail, in particular with their knotty horn sections (see: Still Feeling You‘s wonderfully wiggly breakdown), no doubt slows down the writing process, but their emphasis on collaboration from all band members also partly explains the six year gap between their debut single and Big Talk. Whilst singer Tema Siegal takes the lead lyrically, musically the band takes a more democratic approach, taking turns as bandleaders and voting on creative choices. “On the one hand, I imagine it kind of slows us down,” Silverston says, “but it also means that the final product will really be Couch‘s debut, not like one or three individuals. It really feels like every single person in the band is infusing their tastes and sensibilities into the album.” It’s a key asset, Silverston says, that his bandmates don’t have identical, or even similar, musical tastes. “Jared [Gozinsky, drummer], for example, likes a lot of big band jazz stuff, which gets mixed with a few other band members who like more rock, heavy music. I think that difference is actually what makes songwriting so exciting, and where our growth can be seen the most.”

The first taste of this growth comes via the band’s slick new single What Were You Thinking, which winningly pits a tale of a romantic power imbalance against a sumptuous disco bass line and a silky smooth piano breakdown. The vulnerable lyrics and anthemic melodies make for an interesting contrast, I note to Blankstein. “Jeff [Pinsker-Smith, trumpeter] brought the demo that we all really liked and when Tema heard it she felt like it called for something a little angry,” he explains. “She had this story in her mind for a while […] and the energy she was feeling from the instrumental felt compatible with that story”. The result is a pop song that sounds simultaneously embittered and euphoric, matching Seigel’s snappy takedowns (“What were you thinking / Handling a heart of 20 years like that?”) with a sense that she’s emerged from the relationship with her sense of joy and self-confidence ultimately undimmed.

What Were You Thinking promises to be the highlight of Couch’s latest live offering, which will tour 36 cities across 11 countries from November to March. Fans can expect “most of, if not the entire new catalogue of music, plus some new arrangements of the older tunes that we’re really excited about,” says Blankstein. If it’s anything like their debut UK show in 2023 – which produced an electric atmosphere in Manchester’s Band on the Wall – it should be an memorable night of jubilant funk-pop singalongs. “We’re putting together a proper show to pay tribute to this album,” he concludes and, given the time and energy the whole band have put into Big Talk, there’s no doubt there’ll be plenty to love.

Jeff Rosenstock: HELLMODE review – punk’s golden boy plays it safe

Billed as both his most chaotic and “solid” record so far, Jeff Rosenstock’s seventh full-length is neither, but still provides its fair share of satisfying if familiar punk rock hits.

There are few acts in rock today that can depict this era’s lingering sense of apocalypse (the broken machinations of late-stage capitalism, the corrosion of American democracy, the imminent decay of the whole planet above all) quite as sharply as Jeff Rosenstock. The veteran New York punk who started his career in an unhinged DIY collective called Bomb the Music Industry! (exclamation mark mandatory) has now spent over ten years dissecting his converging personal and global worries in the form of an increasingly lauded and hit-dense discography, peaking perhaps with the smooth-flowing masterpiece of angst WORRY., an album so definitive it deserved a full stop in the title.

This year’s promisingly titled HELLMODE was hailed by promoters and early reviewers as his most chaotic, anarchic and, in Rosenstock’s own words, “solid” record yet, so it’s something of a disappointment that it ends up sounding more or less like the six albums that preceded it. The good news is that any Jeff Rosenstock album is a good one, and his knack for sticky hooks and pithy distillations of a very millennial form of pessimism isn’t going anywhere. HELLMODE is front loaded with tightly written numbers. Exhilarating opener WILL U STILL U is packed with instrumental left turns and belting gang vocals that wouldn’t sound out of place next to the 40-year-old’s very best. Lead single LIKED U BETTER winningly pairs a jaunty keyboard earworm with that sinking feeling of being able to escape your own anxieties. DOUBT follows suit, nurturing a false sense of ease before erupting into a screechy, cathartic polemic. Oftentimes Rosenstock’s dismay at the state of the world – the climate crisis in particular looms over this record – veers towards a relatable defeatism. “The world doesn’t owe you,” he concludes powerfully in standout FUTURE IS DUMB, thus summarising ten years of intense creative output in a single harsh truth.

It’s a shame that Rosenstock couldn’t quite maintain his momentum, especially when it comes to album centrepiece HEALMODE, which does away with the rest of the record’s nuance and undermines the prevailing sense of gloom with the tired, sickly sweet message that love alone can save us from unmitigated disaster. It doesn’t help that the clichéd lyrics are delivered with a cautious softness by Rosenstock, whose voice is much better suited to angry ragers about the constitution than cutesy love songs with an acoustic guitar. Hookless LIFE ADMIN follows, which stands out as one of the limpest tracks Rosenstock has released in years.

As is customary for a Rosenstock album, it all ends in a somewhat theatrical seven minute epic, although there’s very little in 3 SUMMERS that can outdo the much more memorable closing numbers in Rosenstock albums of years gone by. Above all, that’s the key limitation of HELLMODE: with the exception of flawed moment of calm HEALMODE, there’s little invention to be found here, and this distinctive form of volatile rock is better served by most of Rosenstock’s previous releases. True, this is a competently delivered album by an artist who clearly knows how to set a room alight with blaring guitars and verbalised deep-seated dread. It just helps if you don’t know what you’re missing out from the rest of Rosenstock’s oeuvre.


Welly: Big In The Suburbs review – puts the fun back in British indie rock

Welly’s debut album is winningly silly, although its political satire feels a little too safe, and the comedy in Elliot Hall’s cartoonish vocals wears thin quickly.

“It’s very serious, at least it is later on, and you’re not to laugh at the serious bits,” a pompous presenter tells us at the start of Welly’s debut album. “I’ll tell you when that comes.” It’s as good a manifesto as any for this lively indie upstart with a penchant for wry observations of modern life in the vein of witty Americans Cheekface, as well as their ever popular British indie peers Sports Team.

Elliot Hall leads the charge, delivering absurd character portraits and the occasional political barb with a nasally yelp à la Squid’s Ollie Judge, yet somehow even more cartoonish. His delivery adds rowdiness to Big in the Suburbs’ noisier numbers (‘Home For the Weekend’, ‘Deere John’), but risks becoming headache-inducingly irritating over the course of a 50-minute album.

It helps that the words he’s singing are interesting, mixing quickfire puns with political takedowns. “She’s fallen in love with a gameshow host / The chase was on, but it’s pointless now,” the self-assured title track offers, before turning its attention to the more serious matters of the housing crisis and “nationalised hate”. ‘Shopping’ is a shrewd dissection of modern consumerism, even if Hall’s vocal delivery sounds like a whiny nine-year-old throwing a tantrum.

Punky and ragged single ‘Deere John’ attacks a lonely, alcoholic husband (“You’re too old for nightlife!”), whilst ‘Soak Up the Culture’ turns its scorn to self-obsessed gap year girls. It’s all entertaining enough, but also feels only surface-level deep, cheaply mocking the symptoms of inequality and social malaise rather than attempting the trickier task of pinning down the root causes.

That said, fans who dismiss Welly based on Big In the Suburbs’ patchy first half will miss this album’s surprising shift in tone in the second half. Album highlight ‘Pampass Grass’ sounds like a distorted ABBA rendition, succeeding in telling a series of tragic character portraits whilst also making it all irresistibly danceable. “I’ve got to get out!” Hall belts in endearing disco number ‘The Roundabout Racehorse’ whilst ‘Family Photos’ intriguingly hints at personal struggles behind Hall’s comic showman, although the meek outro exposes his vocal frailties.

In the end, Big In the Suburbs doesn’t quite marry Hall’s love of political satire with his desire to deliver something more emotionally impactful. Often the album’s many characters feel deliberately shallow and archetypal, lyrical strawmen for Hall to fire his witty one-liners at. The result is fun and entertaining, but recoils from offering something more meaningful or artistically vulnerable.

It’s exemplified in the spoken word piece ‘Under Milk Wood’, a poignant poem about zooming out from life’s fine-grained chaos and observing a sleeping town from a neutral, god-like perspective. “From where you are, you can hear their dreams… or something like that,” the speaker concludes, tossing away his profound musings behind a protective barrier of laughter and irony. Yes, Hall is a sharp humourist, but Big In the Suburbs leaves you wishing Welly stopped shying away from all those ‘serious bits’.

Courting: Lust for Life review – overwrought concept album pulls its punches

The Liverpool band’s drive for creative risk-taking is admirable, but the experiment doesn’t pay off on this disappointingly messy and scant third album.

Depending on your perspective, Courting’s new album, Lust for Life, Or: ‘How to Thread the Needle and Come Out the Other Side To Tell the Story’ was always destined to be genius or disastrous. Frontman Sean Murphy-O’Neill was clear about his ambitions in his interviews before release day: there would be a ‘mirrored’ track list (each song has a musically-related pair), a promise of multiple lyrical ‘Easter eggs’, an overriding theme of duality exemplified by the two figures on the monochrome cover art and that exhausting two-part album title.

In a rock landscape of unadventurous yet ever successful 2000s indie revivalists – I’m looking at you, Circa Waves – it’s hard to fault Murphy-O’Neill’s drive to deliver a high-art modern rock classic. Last year’s New Last Name came with a grand love narrative, but really it was all about a few stellar singles, not least Flex, which brilliantly conveyed the blissful ignorance of youth, sounding a bit like Carly Rae Jepsen if she made rock for teen boys rather than pop for teen girls.

It’s a disappointment, then, that the new album trailered as the culmination of Courting’s ‘evolution’ thus far weighs in at a meagre 25 minutes and eight tracks, two of which are instrumental tone-setters. O’Neill has talked about the band’s newfound search for conciseness but on this, their third album in a little over three years, the end result just feels rushed and underwritten. The lyrical cross-references and much-touted “hidden depths” are no doubt bountiful, but it’s a shame that Courting couldn’t spend more time fleshing out their numerous intriguing ideas.

Divorce: Drive to Goldenhammer review – endearing, open-hearted folk-rock

Framed around a quest to the fictional place of ‘Goldenhammer’, the Nottingham indie band’s impressive debut is packed with one gorgeous duet after another, plus a wealth of plaintive melodic earworms.

Goldenhammer, the destination of the journey Divorce take throughout their brand new album, categorically doesn’t exist. Instead, the band see it as a sort of personal nirvana. “It’s this intangible idea of something that you yearn for and want,” vocalist Tiger Cohen-Towell told Rolling Stone recently. The concept of Goldenhammer breezes in and out with subtlety throughout the Nottingham band’s excellent debut record, more evident in the yearning melodies and uplifting harmonies than in concrete lyrical references.

Having drummed up a buzz from two promising EPs in 2022 and 2023, Drive to Goldenhammer feels like Divorce’s coming-of-age moment, and boasts a maturity and cohesion not found on their previous work. The band have listed Belle & Sebastian and Queen as key influences, but the occasional wayward fiddles and elegant melodies recall recent Adrienne Lenker songs, or perhaps Black Country, New Road in their more cool-headed moments.

Surely the main draw of Divorce over those esteemed artists is the delightful vocal chemistry of co-vocalists Cohen-Towell and Felix Mackenzie-Barrow. Sonically, they’re a delicious match: Mackenzie-Barrow’s tenor rich and slightly gravelly, Cohen-Towel light and youthful, although capable of an almighty pop-punk belt when the song demands it. The pair have been writing songs together since they were teenagers, and you can tell in the dovetailing melodies of opener Antarctica, touchingly echoing each other with the words “I was made to love you”. The duo aren’t, as far as I can tell, actually in a relationship, but Drive to Goldenhammer’s plentiful male-female vocal duets give the record’s musings on love a certain completeness, like two sides of a relationship mirroring back their fears and hopes to each other. Tellingly, lyrics are expressed from the perspective of “we” almost as often as “I”.

Recorded over four seasons in an off-grid location in the Yorkshire Dales, Drive to Goldenhammer has an earthy, faintly nostalgic quality to it. It’s most clearly heard in the atmospheric accordion that opens Old Broken String or on the shimmering, hook-packed Hangman, a song about Mackenzie-Barrow’s day job as a social care worker. Understated stunner Parachuter contains a sighing chorus melody that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Phoebe Bridgers ballad. “Cry your eyes out, we’ll be leaving soon,” they sing nihilistically, the harmonies sounding simultaneously heavenly and desolate.

That said, Divorce are not ones to rest on their laurels. Lord front-loads the album with a bulletproof power pop chorus that arrives like a bolt from the blue, whilst late highlight Where Do You Go features a furious performance from Cohen-Towell, chastising an emotionally unavailable lover over a salvo of gilt-edged guitar hits. Glorious synthpop number All My Freaks sees Cohen-Towell on more playful form, mocking the plight of indie musicians like herself on a glittery chorus so primed for this summer’s festivals you can practically hear the giant balloons and confetti descend over the adoring crowd.

Drive to Goldenhammer’s more ambitious moments aren’t always so successful, and that central idea of a quest towards Goldenhammer often feels lost in the noise. The Queen influences are clear in the dense composition of Fever Pitch, but the end result feels overwritten and somewhat aimless, whilst Karen works it’s way up to a thrilling wall of sound and then bottles it with a strait-laced guitar solo. Much more intriguing is Cohen-Towell’s central opus Pill, which theatrically switches from psychedelic, innuendo-filled art rock to a poignant, piano-led memory of swinging from a bunk bed with a childhood friend. It’s the sort of unorthodox songwriting Divorce had no time for in their previous EPs, and Pill’s unpredictable switch lands an emotional sucker punch.

Perhaps even more so than the fictional nirvana of Goldenhammer, a sense of openness and emotionally vulnerability runs through almost every track on this record. “Loving you with open arms / Kissing you with open eyes,” the pair sing in cathartic unison on Jet Show, whilst Adam Peter-Smith’s guitar and Kasper Sandstrom’s drums sound endearingly rough around the edges. This honesty and degree of youthful naivety masks the shrewd songwriting that underlines Drive to Goldenhammer. Divorce may not have reached their musical paradise just yet, but with this gorgeous record they’re halfway there.

Sam Fender: People Watching review – the Geordie Springsteen delivers a classic

Valorised Geordie hero Sam Fender paints a vivid picture of ordinary working-class life in this extraordinary third record. Never has Fender’s trademark brand of melancholic beauty sounded so potent.

Icount myself lucky to be living in Newcastle during a Sam Fender album rollout. No other release this year will compare. Spend enough time in the city centre and you’ll notice it. Fender-branded scarves adorn the windows of souvenir shops. Fender’s image literally lights up Grey’s Monument from a dazzling LED billboard. Fender melodies are duly pumped through the Tannoy at St James’ Park after every match, the entire city singing to the same hymn sheet. Indeed, in this part of the world only the local football club is more universally adored than this former barman from North Shields.

If his 2019 debut announced Fender as a promising indie hopeful, the follow-up, Seventeen Going Under, confirmed his status as one of British rock’s leading lights. It was a record powered by a career-defining title track, a deeply moving reflection on a working-class upbringing in the North East destined to go down as one of the great rock hits of the 2020s (and it was Undertone‘s Song of the Year 2021, no less). It remains just about the closest thing Tyneside has to its own national anthem.

How could Fender possibly follow a track like Seventeen Going Under? The lead single and title track to People Watching suggested he was hoping for lightning to strike twice with another sequence of sonorous, hypnotic chord changes and more poetic lyrics about the everyday struggles many Tynesiders face. This time the chirpy guitar hook sounds perilously close to a mid-ranking 1975 hit, but Fender’s knack for bleakly beautiful depictions of his hometown would be enough to make even Matty Healy jealous. The bridge’s “Above the rain-soaked Garden of Remembrance / Kittiwakes etched your initials in the sky” is sublime even by Fender’s high standards.

It’s a relief, then, that the subsequent album doesn’t merely attempt to recreate Seventeen Going Under, but expands on its themes of deprivation in the North East and the distant politicians responsible for it. Chin Up is one of many songs that devotes much of its time to painting deft character portraits of ordinary Geordies. “The cold permeates the neonatal baby”, he sings starkly, before finding parallels between Detroit’s urban decay and Byker Bridge in Crumbling Empire. It might all sound rather doom and gloom on paper, but warm beds of layered guitars and a steady tide of lush strings sections drench this record in a delicate beauty. The people Fender describes are suffering, yes, but in those soaring melodies there’s a sense that their hope is unextinguishable.

Complicating this album about poverty is Fender’s own unescapable wealth and fame. “I won’t take this world for granted”, he assures us at one point, whilst devastating closer Remember My Name – which poignantly features the Easington Colliery Brass Band – reminisces Fender’s own council house upbringing. Most fascinating is TV Dinner with its sinister piano manoeuvres that evoke Radiohead’s other-worldly classic Everything in Its Right Place. “Grass-fed little cash cow”, Fender calls himself in a blistering vocal performance, as a fog of electronics and strings steadily engulf him. It’s a thrillingly dark composition which, for once, defies Fender’s usual comparisons to Springsteen and hints at an intriguing possible direction for album four.

Massive, raspy sax solos and an atmosphere of nostalgia remain Fender’s biggest draw, however. Arm’s Length‘s harmonies may sound unadventurous, but they lend the song a muted, sepia sheen, playing out like a half-forgotten memory. Most of People Watching’s songs pick a timeless chord progression and blissfully wallow in it for an unhurried five minutes, a formula which Fender has now honed.

For all the lyricism about decay, regret and fear, the overriding quality of People Watching is staggering beauty. “These purple days left a violent mark on the oak tree hollow”, Fender offers on glorious standout Nostalgia’s Lie, nailing his trademark balance of piercing sorrow and dewy-eyed wistfulness. The melodies feel inevitable, and Fender’s honeyed vocal tone has never sounded sweeter. Equally remarkable is Little Bit Closer, an awe-inspiring stadium rock triumph about finding God, complete with one of the most nagging chorus hooks you’ll hear all year. “I can’t live under the notion that there’s no reason at all for all this beauty in motion,” the spine-tingling group vocals belt. After listening to an album as deeply beautiful as this one, you’d tend to agree.

Laufey: Bewitched review – the finest yet from vocal jazz revivalist

A breathtaking title track is the climactic highlight of the Icelandic-Chinese artist’s second album, packed with enough gorgeous melodies and intricate orchestration to singlehandedly spur the revival of an entire genre.

TikTok has transformed the music industry in ways that are still becoming clear. Its sudden boom felt by everyone under the age of 30 has changed the emphasis for artists from writing well-rounded singles or albums for the expert ears of tastemaking radio DJs to coming up with marketable 20 second chunks to be listened to millions of times by many app users who may never hear the entire song. With the shortened time span comes new incentives for the artist – accessible hooks and instantly relatable lyrics will ensure instant results, and bright, funk-leaning pop music is the genre of the day (all the better to record a dance to). The big money in the now common phenomenon of charting TikTok songs has practically led to an entire new genre of Gen Z-pandering pop, doing away with bridges (no time for them in a short TikTok clip) and simply speeding up preexisting songs, providing an easy extra uptempo kick with the unfortunate side effect of giving the vocalist an uncanny chipmunk voice.

For that reason, the rise of Laufey Lín Jónsdóttir (say LAY-vay) has been improbable to say the least. Based in Los Angeles and London and with the unusual combination of Icelandic and Chinese heritage, she plies her trade in the notoriously unmarketable genre of vocal jazz, recalling classy melodies and smoky piano trio instrumentation that hasn’t seen mainstream attention for more than 50 years. She’s made steady progress on TikTok, posting quietly impressive performances on cello and guitar, each video invariably graced with her expertly enunciated vocals. A steady flow of new fans became a flood only in this past year with the viral success of Bewitched’s lead single, From The Start. An unusually peppy bossa number (Laufey once wrote that fast jazz makes her anxious), it was catchy enough to win the attention of the app’s mysterious recommendations algorithm and, a few months later, Laufey has the most-streamed opening week for vocal jazz album in history no less, a modest record to break given the lack of competition, but nonetheless a signifier of just how much Laufey is on her own when it comes to her preferred corner of jazz. Boundary-pushing instrumental jazz may continue to thrive both in the UK and the US, but for the moment it is Laufey alone who is fighting the corner of this more conservative, decidedly less cool subgenre with its familiar harmonies and straightforward melodies.

From The Start may be the song powering Bewitched’s success, but it’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this album’s charm. Laufey already has a live album with the Iceland Symphony Orchestra under her belt, and at its best Bewitched shimmers with unashamedly elaborate flourishes of oboe and swelling waves of strings. California and Me is so densely orchestrated that London’s Philharmonia Orchestra gets an official credit, providing momentum to Laufey’s enchanting melodic meanders. Elsewhere, the classical elements of Laufey’s style are more intimate. Serendipity, perhaps the most charming of this album’s many waltzes, sees Laufey trade bittersweet melodies with a sonorous string section and pensive piano. On slinky bossa nova track Haunted the effect of the strings is more an atmospheric shimmer. “I swear to myself as he leaves at dawn / This will end ‘til he haunts me again,” Laufey confides to us, almost whispering before breaking out into a sublime passage of hummed scatting the likes of which the Top 40 Albums Chart hasn’t seen for decades.

The biggest joy of Bewitched lies in witnessing Laufey fall gradually ever deeper in love, song by song. “Boys just make me cry,” she announces resolutely in the delightful opener Dreamer, a classic swing tune with a classy vocal performance that would surely have impressed Ella Fitzgerald, Laufey’s most obvious influence. By Lovesick, though, Laufey’s determination to avoid boys at all costs has evaporated. The central moment of turmoil of the record, Lovesick is the closest thing Laufey has ever got to a rock song, even if the chugging electric guitar is buried under a web of heart-tugging strings and sustained piano chords. It also happens to include one of her strongest choruses to date, replete with beautiful lyrics delivered with an urgency that sounds somewhat out of place on this otherwise soft album, but nonetheless could be a promising sign of more daring genre-mashing to come for Laufey.

By the time we reach palate-cleansing piano solo piece Nocturne, it is clear Laufey is well and truly besotted. Swooning, helpless love is the mood that Laufey has dealt with most comfortably in her career to date and true to form these final six songs offer the most assured moments of Bewitched. Promise, a heartbreaking tale of a long-distance relationship, is exquisitely teased out before a barnstorming, despondent bridge (“I’ve done the math / There’s no solution / We’ll never last!”). Misty, the only jazz standard on the tracklist, is even more enthralling, with Laufey flexing her vocal jazz muscles in a tasteful performance, even if there’s no space for an instrument to take the limelight for a solo.

And then there’s the title track. Bewitched’s opening orchestral flourish could hardly be more ornate, with strings, woodwinds and horns all tumbling over one another as if soundtracking the magical arrival of a Disney princess. Instead, there’s the gorgeous, softly sung voice of Laufey and a lonely guitar. The melodies and chord progressions are nothing short of exquisite, and the gentle reentry of strings in the chorus feels like quietly slipping into a steaming hot bath. Complete with gorgeous lyrics about “the world [freezing] around us as you kiss me goodnight,” Bewitched is the most complete musical depiction of romance I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear. Like all the greatest love songs, Laufey not only describes her love but invites you to feel it too, with all its profound, all-consuming ecstasy and a nuanced tinge of risk when it comes to “bewitching” and “spells”. Laufey has lost herself in love just as the listener loses themselves in the artistry of the soaring strings and timeless melody. With Bewitched as an album closer, Laufey’s tale of falling in love is immaculately wrapped up with a fairytale ending. It’s the pinnacle of an album like no other in the pop charts today, although judging by the success of this new, unorthodox formula for TikTok riches, Laufey may not be alone in her niche for long.