1. Kim Gordon – “Play Me” (2026)
Few bands in my life have been as elusive as Sonic Youth. As someone who hung around art students all throughout high school, there should be more nostalgia for their sound. I even bought “Daydream Nation” when I was 14, hoping that something would click. And yet, no matter what I heard, they were that one band that never made sense. They always came across as being too cool for school, like there was a smugness to being the least bit hip to what they were doing. I’d even say that was true of Kim Gordon’s previous solo album, which is cool in theory, but sounded like a strange Warholian gimmick of an elder statesman doing rap over erratic trap beats. In short, it felt like a worse modernized version of Blondie doing that “Rapture” song.
Maybe this is the transcendent breakthrough that’s escaped me for 20 years, but I actually came out the other side of “Play Me” and really liked it. Maybe it’s being too brain-damaged from hyperpop, but the production in this record got my blood pumping in ways that few artists have this year. There’s been better albums for sure, but this is a full-throated descent into madness spiked with sociopolitical commentary. If there’s a difference, this feels more intentional, more playful in how Gordon is incorporating the intensity into her withering voice. I’m not sure much has changed about the lo-fi approach, but the sincerity feels more genuine this time.
More than anything, this record feels alive with purpose, where an artist is so cognizant of the zeitgeist that they can’t help but express their own urgency every second they’re on the microphone. Even the updated version of “BYEBYE2025” feels so of the moment that she sounds like she’s clawing at the door to break it down. Whereas most musicians “slow down” as they get older, Gordon sounds like there’s too much on her mind to ever rest. I’m not sure that a lot has stood out as best of the year for me yet, but “Play Me” has managed to lodge itself in my body with every listen, where I’m delighted and horrified with what I hear. More than anything, it’s a perfect reminder that aging doesn’t mean you have to lose your cool. Sometimes big risks can keep you feeling vital until the very end.
2. August Ponthier – “Everywhere Isn’t Texas” (2026)
Sometimes there’s a difficulty with processing what it means to live in the Midwest. As someone from Southern California, there is an overwhelming bias for what makes it out here, and that includes certain perceptions of country music. Obviously, there’s the old adage that the angriest people are always the loudest, which is why it’s easy to see conservative state art as being somewhat derivative of this viewpoint, at most (favorably) centering around pick-up trucks and beer. That isn’t to say that a lot of Top 40 doesn’t carry this flavor, but that’s only more reason to really put in the work to find more kindhearted perspectives. It’s a major reason I’ve been happy watching Charley Crockett do his thing.
Another more recent name that I’ve discovered on that list is August Ponthier. While I have been aware of her for years, thanks to Spotify’s weekly new singles, I had never sat down and listened to a full project. As the title suggests, there is a certain wanderlust in Ponthier’s lyrics in which she’s looking for optimism in a dark situation. Despite the acknowledgment of tragic real-life situations, she’s more interested in detailing queer joy while pondering the intimate joys of falling in love. The clarity with which she sings makes this an easy-going record that reflects a different side to community. It’s not trying to be overtly political. It’s just trying to be happy.
There is a core naivety to the record that keeps it from feeling like a grander statement. Even then, the youthful attitude with which it visits its themes is refreshing, allowing for a greater sense of normalcy to take root. There are love stories mixed in with the conflicts of being jealous of how men saw women, and how it seems socially acceptable. In its brisk running time, it presents a hopeful world for queer individuals who may feel trapped by their environment without resorting to over-the-top theatrics. They may seem out of place compared to those around them, but reaching out is the perfect way to start finding anything meaningful. It’s a warm hug of a record that’s not going for much else, and that’s completely fine.
3. Madi Diaz – “Enema of the Garden State” (2025)
Few records in the Millennial songbook will ever unite different archetypes quite like Blink-182’s “Enema of the State.” It’s a goofy record with an incredible blue streak from front to back. It also has some of the most sincere studies of teenage angst from around the turn of the millennium. It’s not to say that the band has grown into a niche generational taste, but there’s a level of affection that can’t be overstated for this specific blend of nostalgia. And, if there’s anything that makes Madi Diaz seem cooler than her already wonderful past few albums, it’s her willingness to do a full-on acoustic covers album for charity.
Admittedly, this is more of a stripped-down approach that doesn’t feel nearly as polished or self-conscious. There are many times when the harmonies don’t fully resonate, and the singing can be at times understated. However, the one thing that has always made Blink-182 a fascinating band is their sloppiness, their willingness to not take anything too seriously. Diaz continues this tradition by singing in her quiet register about the various themes, managing to make something like “Dysentery Gary” feel like a somber study of this poor man’s failure. The joke becomes funnier as she pushes into the dramatics of slowed-down numbers that lack any meaningful backing. She is alone, metaphorically naked, as she unveils what a one-woman performance can do.
Another reason that I love it is how much it reminds me of late-2000s music in general. When I was in high school, it was popular for acoustic acts to come to poetry readings and sing covers of various songs. I once heard someone do Flo Rida’s “Low,” and remembering how it makes you recontextualize the world around you. I’m not sure if Diaz is looking to find new meaning in these old hits, but there’s still a rawness and effort that is downright endearing. It’s vulnerable and unassuming, asking the listener to accept it for what it is. If nothing else, it’s a record that begins with the word enema. It was never going to be that deep… or was it?
4. Lice– “Miami Lice: Volume Four” (2026)
Along with spending most of early 2026 in the midst of a Gorillaz kick, I have been reminded of why Aesop Rock is one of the great underappreciated rappers, even by me. While I was initially indifferent to his sound, he’s grown on me with every new project, and I love how he’s not constrained to certain topics. He’s a very curious man eager to create a world full of humor and insight alongside more serious numbers. Given that his 2025 produced some top-notch music that will likely stick in my memory for some time, it’s amazing to know that he’s already coming in hot for the year ahead.
Lice is a side project that he does with Homeboy Sandman; if the artwork and title don’t tip you off, it’s a goofy-ass way to pass the time. Thanks to an opportune transition from Elucid’s recent record into “Who Sent You?” I discovered a world that I kicked myself for missing even briefly. The jumpy beats were already fun, but having these two men go to town on abstract ideas was beyond delightful, allowing for the wordplay to deliver highbrow humor (“I’m so woke, I’m sleep deprived”). I’ve basically been asking about the burgers every day ever since.
Compared to other favorite rap albums of the year, a reason that I really love Lice’s latest is because of how unserious it is. Even if there’s social commentary, this isn’t some painstaking exploration of the self. This isn’t some attempt to create large, conceptual worlds. It’s merely two friends trading bars and having the time of their lives. That may explain why it’s the record I’ve had most often in my rotation for when I need a quick pick-me-up that still challenges me. It won’t change your life, but it may make you smile.
5. Waterbaby – “Memory Be A Blade” (2026)
Like most everything else in pop culture, the early quarter of a year is an uncertain time where the real risk takers make their mark. Even so, the surefire hits are likely still months away, and it’s a perfect time to take risks on talent that would otherwise go unnoticed. I’m aware that Waterbaby isn’t someone who has exactly gone ignored, but she was new to my radar and, given that I was curious to check out a record that was on the shorter side of things, it felt like a good time to check out something with as eye-raising as that title.
It’s too early to say how far up the standings that “Memory Be A Blade” will go on favorites for the year, but I want to credit her with producing one of my first great surprises of 2026. With almost zero awareness, I entered the album and prepared for a journey through the ethereal, moody soundscape that featured provocative lyrics that painted one of the fullest self-examinations I’ve heard yet. If nothing else, I came out the other end admiring her confidence and clarity.
It’s another example of pop music that doesn’t need to be elaborate to be effective. Much like Mitski’s recent masterpiece, there’s value in allowing ideas to boil down to their necessary essence. While at times this creates an unassuming listening experience, it only encourages further listening, pondering the messaging hidden within the lyrics. Despite the occasional sadness, Waterbaby’s ultimate tone is one of hope and joy that gives me optimism wherever her career goes; I’ll be around to at least appreciate what she has to say. For now, she makes nostalgia into something both beautiful and painful. It takes a lot to find new wrinkles in that idea, and she’s found plenty to keep me invested.
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