The 100 Best Albums of 2025

Sombr had a relentless run of singles leading up to his debut album, including the evocative “Back to Friends” and the Fleetwood Mac-esque “Undressed.” I Barely Knew Her lives up to the hype. He performs with a distinct internal confidence and external charm that has been notably absent in the withering releases from many of his male pop contemporaries. Every track builds up to a momentous bridge. “Come Closer” gets close to being the peak moment, with the lushest harmonies on the album, but it’s hard to beat “12 to 12,” which is pop in its most riveting form. —Larisha Paul

As always with Skrillex, you got everything, everywhere, all at once, the bass tones turned to taffy, the spoken sound bites knowingly and proudly cheesy. There’s something refreshed and charged about the EDM star’s latest. It’s a beginning-to-end journey that unveils new details over many plays. Skrillex’s sound remains sharply textured — there’s space in the mix even when he’s stacking bass tones, bent to hell and all playing the same silly pattern. His low end still gleefully warps and woofs in almost comically outsized patterns. It’s his cultivated style, a sonic trademark, an aural Skrillex logo. —Michaelangelo Matos

After leaning into the punk-rock edge of her 2022 album, Holy Fvck, and revisiting her old songs with a grittier twist on 2023’s Revamped, Demi Lovato is back to the sound where she shines brightest. Teaming up with pop-production mastermind Zhone, she leans into playful synths and club-ready energy. There’s still room for some introspection, but mostly she’s not digging too deeply into heavy subject matter. Instead, she delivers a dance-driven album that skips the ultra-emotional ballads of her past to have some fun — with only a tad of regret. —Tomas Mier

Getting back in touch with her hip-hop roots has inspired Lizzo and her collaborators to dig in deeper and craft a mixtape that allows her more space to play. The raunchy, high-energy My Face Hurts From Smiling starts off with a bang — as Lizzo big-ups her ability to go “through the bullshit, turn it to a boppin’.” That idea, where the only way out of a rough patch is through music, persists throughout the tape, with Lizzo sending fire in the direction of her naysayers and reveling in how unstoppable the idea of complete creative freedom makes her feel. —Maura Johnston

When Chance the Rapper announced his first album in six years, one couldn’t help but wonder if the 32-year-old Chicago rapper had anything interesting left to offer. He hasn’t lost his innate optimism, and it’s that quality that ultimately makes Star Line a worthy and even remarkable return to form. The album bursts with themes — Chance’s affinity for Black people and his ’Raq hometown, the loneliness of being a bachelor, his love for his two daughters, and much else. Even when the big-tent vision falters, Chance sews the album’s 17 tracks into a cohesive, memorable statement. —Mosi Reeves

“I’m thinking about breaking your heart someday soon,” Lucy Dacus confesses in “Limerence,” one of the highlights from her fourth album. On Forever Is a Feeling, she aims for adult-specific love songs, rather than the coming-of-age and coming-out tales that made her name. “If the devil’s in the details, then God is in the gap in your teeth,” she sings in “For Keeps.” In the jubilant title song, she takes a romantically charged road trip over sped-up piano. These songs take place in the middle of long-running messy relationships — some desperately romantic, some just painful. —Rob Sheffield

For her second album as Blondshell, L.A. singer-songwriter Sabrina Teitelbaum is figuring out how much of her life story she wants to tell the world — how much she needs to tell — and how much to hide away for herself. On her acclaimed 2023 self-titled debut, she was really letting it all hang out in searing, confessional indie rock. But on If You Asked for a Picture, Teitelbaum’s more ambivalent, more questioning, reckoning with her painful past, from childhood misery to dysfunctional young-adult romance. These are the songs of an artist who wants to figure out who she is by singing about it. —R.S.

Each new Alchemist LP is greeted by a small but persistent audience clamoring for the legendary beatsmith to evolve from his palette of sleepy soft jazz and moody noir soundscapes. Others, correctly, never grow tired of filet mignon. This second link-up with Freddie Gibbs is predictably sumptuous, which is not a bad thing to be when Gibbs is still rapping with the intensity of someone with a gun to his head and the cool of someone who doesn’t care. Gibbs’ bitter edge cuts the smoky haze of Al’s beats like a sip of cognac in a dimly lit back room. —Clayton Purdom

Bar Italia rose out of the London rock underground with their own seductive guitar buzz, three criminally cool types at home in the dark. Their terrific new Some Like It Hot is even cockier, steamier, more insistent — one of the year’s kickiest indie-rock thrillers. They’re definitely not shy about showing off their moody rock influences — a little Slowdive, a lot of the Cure, plenty of the Velvets and Spacemen 3 and Sonic Youth. All over Some Like It Hot, they mix up post punk, Britpop, shoegaze, and psychedelia with their own melodramatic flair. —R.S.

Billed as an R&B album in time for Valentine’s Day, $ome $exy $ongs 4 U is the first official project, albeit a collab, from Drake after a year of basically the entire world dragging his name through the mud. It’s a savvy diversion, given it was only a few weeks before its release that the entire country wondered if he’d get called a pedophile at the Super Bowl. That in mind, the LP is a clean, well-executed production of Drake’s signature product meant to push the plot along — a slick new offering from the embattled Drake Cinematic Universe. —Jeff Ihaza

Here We Go Crazy wanders the same landscape of tumultuous noise and roiling emotions Bob Mould has been navigating since he co-founded Hüsker Dü in 1979. Gems like “Hard to Get” and “Neanderthal” nail a quintessential Mould-ian mix of pounding aggression, oceanic guitar buzz, and teaming melody. “When Your Heart Is Broken” rockets to the top of his canon, right up there with the Dü’s “Makes No Sense at All” in its ability to mix effortless anthemic tunefulness with a harried feelings-first urgency.  The sense of constant growth and accrued wisdom in these songs makes them sink in. —Jon Dolan

For Selena Gomez and Benny Blanco, turning their love story into an album is the least they could do. I Said I Love You First is a valentine that delivers exactly what it promises — a pop icon and a superstar producer celebrating a real-life romance that we all can root for. The album peaks in the middle with a trio of bangers starting with “Sunset Blvd,” a romantic fantasy of coupling in the middle of the street until the cops arrive to pry them apart. These two crazy kids are young, they’re in love, and they can’t keep their hands to themselves — well, they could, but why would they want to? —R.S.

Fola has quickly and quietly become one of the most prominent new acts in Nigerian music, and his debut album crystalizes his solo stature as Afrobeats’ next soul soother. He cruises across careful odes to courtship, heartbreak, and hustle in the bustling city of Lagos. Whether he’s singing almost entirely in Yoruba over John Mayer-esque guitar licks on “Healer” or riding sensual Eighties R&B saxophone on “You,” Fola’s debut is like if your favorite low-fi YouTube channel got a whole lot of human heart and soul programmed into it — it’s music you pop on to drop your shoulders and melt away. —Mankaprr Conteh

Amber Mark is a lover girl mending her broken heart on Pretty Idea, a bottomless toolbox of pop and R&B songs to be deployed at any given stage of lovelorn grief. “By the End of the Night” and the Anderson.Paak-assisted “Don’t Remind Me” are perfect for momentary distraction, like the dancing that comes before the drunk texting. The unraveling cuts deep on highlights “Different Places” and “Cherry Reds,” then she twists the knife with “The Best of You.” But it’s all good. Mark has everything she needs to stitch herself back up. —L.P.

Chaeyoung has attained stardom as a member of the K-pop group TWICE. On her solo debut, lyrics about the loss of old friends, forgiveness, and embracing your own quirky self pour out of the singer-rapper, as she mixes neo-soul, trip-hop, and funk in her dreamy pop songs. “BF” reflects on how fame feeds into loneliness. But there’s optimism, too: On the disco-inspired “Shoot (Firecracker),” she sings, “Don’t say goodbye, there’s a new beginning.” Yes, Chaeyoung is living her lil fantasy, but she makes it clear she’s a work in progress with room to grow. —Jae-Ha Kim

Momma delivered their fantastic Welcome to My Blue Sky just in time for a whole new summer of grunge. On their last album, they sang about riding around listening to “Gold Soundz”; it didn’t take long before they were opening for Pavement, and this album is twice as great. “Ohio All the Time” is a bittersweet but damn-near-perfect guitar vignette about two kids getting lost on the road in the Midwest, trying to figure out if they’re in love, yet neither one brave enough to speak up. Welcome to My Blue Sky is totally brash, always loud, always effusive, and usually funny even when their lives are falling apart, which is constantly. —R.S.

Chicago-raised, Los Angeles-based rapper Open Mike Eagle has been making albums filled with observational comedy, self-deprecating wit, and quietly devastating tragedy for nearly two decades. Neighborhood Gods Unlimited marks a new creative peak. That’s partly to excellent production from Child Actor, Kenny Segal, and others, who complement Mike’s “Dark Comedy Television” with softly insistent bops that fit him like a pair of comfortable shoes. Then there’s his own charms, which include imagining himself as a shitworker who transforms at night into a Superman-like bedroom rapper. —M.R.

Kaytranada has said that Ain’t No Damn Way!, his fifth album (counting Kaytraminé, his 2023 collaboration with Aminé), is a deliberate step back into the DJ-oriented dance tracks that he made his name with — fluttering, crisp remixes of Janet Jackson and Teedra Moses that erupted on dance floors in the mid-2010s, well before his first album, 99.9%, in 2016. But while most of Ain’t No Damn Way! runs on house beats, it also works as casual listening; it’s an airy amble through dance music history, not a blaring EDM festival or a speedy night out at a Berlin club. —M.M.

The L.A. singer-songwriter’s music often has a futuristic psych-synth feel. But Ridin’ is Cuco’s most grounded and tradition-loving to date, a lavish love letter to the Mexican American “brown-eyed soul” of the Sixties and Seventies. With its hopeful organ, swirling strings, sharp horns, cracking snare shots, tender melody, and flower-bearing vocals, “ICNBYH” could have absolutely been an R&B hit in 1971, while “My 45” is a rolling along with your girl. More than just historical cosplay, Ridin’ makes an old-school sound feel joyfully present. —J.D.

Brooklyn singer, songwriter, and guitar hero Brian Dunne infuses one of the goofiest-titled albums of 2025 with a whole lot of knowing heart. Clams Casino mixes the songwriting of Paul Simon with jangle-pop sonics, painting a vivid picture of what it’s like to eke out an existence as a thirtysomething artist in New York today: Joys are fleeting, self-doubt rears its head, and the struggle to perform achievement on social media looms large. Like the band of which he’s also a member, Fantastic Cat, Dunne proves he’s an expert in catchy melancholy. Just listen to the title track and try not to sadly sing along. —Joseph Hudak

They Are Gutting a Body of Water have been one of the most crucial American shoegaze bands over the past decade. Douglas Dulgarian began making noise as TAGABOW in 2017, playing house shows and releasing early cassettes like 2017’s Sweater Curse. Their new LOTTO is their most intensely emotional noise yet, a showdown with addiction and disease and death. It’s an exorcism of an album — heavier than heaven, hotter than hell, bold as love. Yet, even on a record with this much bleakness and terror, They Are Gutting a Body of Water make a beautifully uplifting noise. —R.S.

In the six years since Hannah Cohen released an album, she relocated from New York City to the Catskills. Earthstar Mountain is a dazzling love letter to her new home. The album navigates loss (“Mountain”), family drama (the Sly and the Family Stone-inspired “Draggin’”), and obscure 1960s Italian thrillers (the Ennio Morricone cover “Una Spiaggia”), and it features her upstate pals Clairo and Sufjan Stevens. “I think that’s what the Catskills are: this open door for people to take in the beauty of this place,” Cohen told RS. “Everyone who comes here wants other people to experience the magic that we feel here.” —Angie Martoccio

Mobb Deep’s Infinite represents the best-case scenario for a posthumous album. Havoc and the Alchemist built each song from the late Prodigy’s verses and hooks, arranging them atop production that upholds the classic Mobb Deep aesthetic. His bars aren’t the stitched-together, bottom-barrel verses that often plague posthumous albums — tracks like the Nas-featured “Pour the Henny,” and “Clear Black Nights” with Raekwon and Ghostface Killah, are missives from beyond. True to that album title, Mobb Deep have made a boundless impact that will resonate as long as human history itself. —Andre Gee

Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson — a.k.a. the Irish singer-songwriter CMAT — blends the storytelling-focused lyrics and twangy instrumentation of Nashville and the plush splendor of 21st-century folk-ish pop, with the occasional rock meltdown. Like the work of other sharp-eyed pop chroniclers of modern life (particularly Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker), CMAT’s music draws people in before they realize the depth of her (mostly correct) commentary on the world’s ills. —M. Johnston

The best thing about Private Music, Deftones’ 10th LP, is that it arrived with no gimmick or plea for relevancy. It’s simply another great record from an outfit that already sounded fully confident in its core aesthetic — a juxtaposition of grinding alt-metal riffage, and deep, sensuous yearning — by the time of turn-of-the-millennium landmark White Pony. Highlights such as the jagged, unnerving “Cut Hands,” woozy power ballad “I Think About You All the Time,” and the grinding, anthemic “Ecdysis” felt like instant Deftones canon, each a reminder of this band’s unusual staying power. —Hank Shteamer

Following her 2018 breakthrough, By the Way, I Forgive You, Brandi Carlile embraced many roles — from Brandi the Steward, ushering in the resurgences of icons like Elton John, Tanya Tucker, and Joni Mitchell, to Brandi the Author, with her 2021 bestselling memoir. None of these roles left much space for Brandi the Person. That’s the thesis of Returning to Myself, a frequently moving statement that represents Carlile’s finest work since By the Way. It’s more than a return to form, pointing toward new textures in Carlile’s voice and always feeling uniquely of a piece. —Jonathan Bernstein

Korean Australian singer-songwriter Hannah Bahng’s lushly low-key music combines yearning and heartache with a Gen Z sense that any genre is ready for use, be it melancholy indie pop or introspective alt-rock. Each of the seven tracks here stands on its own merit as a self-reflective tale of vulnerability and longing — whether she’s navigating a one-sided relationship on “Orchid/Flame” or attaining self-discovery on the dreamy “I’m Me Again.” The Misunderstood EP tells a complex story that begins with desperation and ends with promise. —J.H.K.

On 5ive, the Nigerian pop star leans into love and legacy at the ripe age of 32. Davido makes these contemplations an easy listen. He celebrates the resilience of love, lilting to his partner that she’s the most important thing that he could sing about on “10 Kilo.” The album is pleasant enough to play top to bottom at a turn-up or on a long drive, rich with layers of perfectly programmed percussion and flowing easily between lust, pain, and triumph. Aptly, it’s at its best on songs like “CFMF” and “Funds,” where Davido trades the amapiano-indebted Afrobeats he has refined for refreshing romances. —M.C.

Milo J was only 18 when he recorded this astonishing third album, a syncretic love letter to Argentine culture that weaves strands of folklore, trap, and tango into a panoramic journey framed by the restrained gravity of his voice. The cutting-edge production and dream gallery of guest features — from trova icon Silvio Rodríguez and folk revival queen Soledad to rapper Trueno and a sample of the late Mercedes Sosa — add layers of sophistication, but the luminous poetic vision is all Milo’s. —Ernesto Lechner

No Hard Feelings? There seem to be plenty: The lyric sheet of the Beaches’ third LP is peppered with acidic one-liners, like the “lost boys in J. Crew shirts” lamented on “Takes One to Know One” or the inimitable kiss-off “Fine, Ryan, I’ll fuck you forever” (from the aptly named “Fine, Let’s Get Married”). The Toronto four-piece issues all these flirty, high-flying fuck-yous with the flanging guitars and mechanical drums of early Cure records, a combination that gooses the tension steadily until another scream-along chorus erupts. It’s throwback pop-punk for the TikTok era, as immediate as a sucker punch. —C.P.

Growth and movement are all over Kelsey Waldon’s 10th album, Every Ghost. The Kentucky singer-songwriter employs unfussy arrangements that lean toward 1970s country as she examines personal evolution (“Ghost of Myself”) and sobriety (“Lost in My Idlin’”), offering herself grace for missteps. Family roots show up in “My Kin,” while the low-end thump of “Tiger Lilies” anchors a story about replanting a departed relative’s flowers. “Nursery Rhyme” laments a country in disarray, but with the rousing “Let It Lie,” she steels herself to persevere through any struggles. —Jon Freeman

Houston rapper Monaleo’s Who Did the Body feels like a meetup with cousins to celebrate life. “Open the Gates” is pure ancestral veneration in verse, calling out the names of her deceased friends, and the theme of transformation and death is paired with vivid storytelling on “Dignified.” Monaleo embodies an ethic rooted in her community and commitment to Blackness as a way of life and art, a testament to the idea that the right way may be fulfilled when we learn to blend our Black livelihoods, combining the unorthodox and traditional. —Meagan Jordan

Atlanta singer-songwriter Becca Harvey’s Sweetness is a deeply observed relationship autopsy set to blue, buzzy guitars. On “I Just Do!” she gives us a crushed-out, grunge-pop masterpiece, while pretty subdued songs like “In My Eyes” and “Windows” see her work through love’s murky middle stages, and she closes it out strumming farewell on “I Think I Did.” Working in the tradition of classics like Marvin Gaye’s Here, My Dear and Richard and Linda Thompson’s Shoot Out the Lights, she delivers a post-breakup banger. —J.D.

Mavis Staples’ stunning Sad and Beautiful World sees the 86-year-old Chicago soul legend transform disparate material — by Frank Ocean, Leonard Cohen, Gillian Welch, Tom Waits, and others — into her most powerful statement as a solo artist in more than a decade. At times, Staples’ zen reflectiveness feels like a photo negative of Cohen’s grimly dark late records. Like those collections, it documents a legend brimming with life even as they confront mortality. But Staples comes to the opposite conclusions, drawing even more depth and power in her faith, even, or especially, as she finds it fractured. —J. Bernstein 

Osamason’s Jump Out makes a sonic case for chaos as the language of the coming generation, and why wouldn’t it? The 22-year-old rapper at the forefront of the current vanguard of rage-rap luminaries balances a melodic sensibility with a maximalist approach to rap. Razor-sharp synths set ablaze in digital audio workstations, drums modulated to frequencies at the edge of the ear’s functional limit, and lyrics like mantras punching straight through to one’s lizard brain. A product of rending emotional precision from the endless feed of information available everywhere all of the time. —J.I.

The U.K. band Wolf Alice have been making eclectic pop-rock for a decade, specializing in textural music that swings big emotionally while moving within different sonic settings. They’ve never put it together with the sweep and depth of their fourth album, steeped in classic Seventies and Eighties influences. At the heart is Ellie Rowsell’s self-defining search for direction and meaning as she moves into the real part of adulthood. “I want to age with excitement, feel my world expand,” she sings on “Play It Out,” sounding bravely and refreshingly unsure as to what that means. —J.D.

The Hold Steady frontman has an impressive solo catalog, but Always Been is its pinnacle. Over 11 songs, Craig Finn delivers tales of faithless preachers (“Bethany”), broken homes (“Crumbs”), and relationships that should have ended long ago (“Luke & Leanna”) in his infamously idiosyncratic talk-sing style. But what distinguishes Always Been from Finn’s other solo projects is its clear California piano-rock roots. Even the album cover drives it home, with Finn re-creating the photo from Randy Newman’s 1977 LP, Little Criminals. —J.H.

U.K. indie rockers Wet Leg came out of nowhere in 2021 to become bona fide international superstars. On their second album, they prove they’ve been partying harder, traveling faster, caring less, and meeting sexier idiots. If you thought they might catch a case of sophomore-slump neurosis after their self-titled debut, you guessed wrong. Moisturizer keeps everything fast and frisky, ranging from crushed-out bliss (“I’ll be your Shakira, whenever, wherever”) to breakup rage (“You are washed-up, irrelevant, and standing in my light”). But wherever Wet Leg go, they make you want to tag along. —R.S.

On her second album, Jensen McRae rides love till the wheels fall off, sending it plummeting off the road, down the side of a cliff, and exploding in a fiery blaze. “Novelty” is a puncture wound sustained in the moment she realizes she’s become less valuable to someone, while “Tuesday” offers a shattering, lovelorn performance. McRae’s lyrics cut vividly against her thrumming melodies. The narrative progression from “I Can Change Him” to “Praying for Your Downfall” makes the battle she fights on “Daffodil” all the more searing. It all affirms her position as one of pop’s sharpest newcomers. —L.P

Kwn masters the art of seduction on her breakthrough nine-song EP. After she turned heads with the edgy “Worst Behaviour” and its even bolder remix with Kehlani on Valentine’s Day, With All Due Respect proved that Kwn’s alchemy of hip-hop soul, cinematic lesbianism, and textured vocal stacks was no fluke. She’s the project’s lead producer, writer, and of course, heartthrob-y vocalist, singing plainly — even blush-inducingly — about love and lust with a dominant streak. Take it from the fans at her packed shows, singing every scandalous word back to her: She’s one of the most exciting new faces of R&B. —M.C.

On Am I the Drama?, Cardi B makes up for lost time with a massive comeback triumph. She’s got a long list of scores to settle, enemies to crush, crowns to claim. As always, she brings so much larger-than-life personality to the party that she could coast on charisma if she wanted. But Cardi’s been in the news lately for everything except her music, so it’s a trip to hear her finally get to cut loose and have fun. She’s out to remind everyone she’s looser, wilder, less predictable, just plain funnier than anyone else in the game. As she declares, “All of my cars is chauffeured/I ain’t touched door handles in years!” —R.S.

Justin Vernon’s lyrics have often led to him being considered a melancholy, lovesick songwriter. The nine tracks on his first album in five years see him finally relenting to lightness. “Time heals and then it repeats,” he sings, acknowledging the regenerative nature of all things. There’s a sense of transcendence running through the LP, with most songs resolving in a major key, carried by propulsive percussion and a whole lot of pedal steel and leaning into triumphant anthemic pop melodies. It’s the work of a man at his most hopeful and open, palms upturned, ready and willing to come up for air. —Leah Lu

Tate McRae’s perpetual-motion mind has made her one of pop’s most exciting young stars, and it fuels So Close to What, a sleek, fast-moving collection of darkly hued pop confections. “Sports Car” sculpts synth squelches and grinding-gears rhythms into hooks, McRae’s whispered come-ons acting as the connective tissue. Her vision of love is, perhaps unsurprisingly, riddled with introspection and angst. But her ability to dig into those intricacies and turn them into arena-worthy singalongs makes So Close to What a pop album worth digging into. —M.Johnston

With his oaky baritone, Givēon often sounds like he teleported to us from the 1970s. In the rapid-fire internet age, his love songs — frequently lost-love songs — are unhurried. At his best, he’s like a barrel-aged cognac — warm, earthy, and mature. Now, on his sophomore LP, he’s well established as a singular voice. Beloved is almost barren of the hip-hop flourishes that peppered his earlier work, and instead leans all the way into the orchestral R&B of another time. Rich and authentic, Beloved feels indebted to Al Green, Philly soul, the Jackson 5, and blaxploitation soundtracks. —M.C.

Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke and producer Mark Pritchard have been working on this minimalist electronic project since the dark days of 2020, passing tracks back and forth, with Yorke adding vocals that are hauntingly opaque and ensnaringly eerie even by his high standards. On “Ice Shelf,” his voice is mutated into a robotic wallow over gray-noise ambience and subterranean drum boom, while “The Conversation Is Missing Your Voice” is like a photo negative of an R&B banger. Pritchard wisely keeps his tracks uncluttered and varied, offering Yorke endless room to stretch out. —J.D.

The New York experimental duo’s second album since signing with Matador Records is a brilliantly disorienting trip. Is it an ambient daydream, a nu metal shredfest, a dance party at the end of the world? Hell yeah, baby, to all of the above and much more. Producer and multi-instrumentalist Nate Amos, coming off a major 2024 breakthrough with his singer-songwriter project This Is Lorelei, brings some of that magic back to the mothership for an album full of tasty licks, juicy riffs, and honest-to-god guitar solos; vocalist Rachel Brown brings the surrealist patter to match. —Simon Vozick-Levinson

Mike’s Showbiz! is a stellar glimpse into the human experience — 24 songs that offer a wide-ranging glimpse of the Brooklyn-based rhymer’s personal excavation over a variety of beats. On “Watered down,” he admits, “I get hotheaded and mean sometimes, my fault, forgive me” over a chipper, high-pitches sample. “Man in the mirror” shows him rhyming over an upbeat dance track, while “When it Rains” has a groove that harkens to his excellent Pinball series with producer Tony Seltzer. There aren’t many artists as vulnerable as Mike, and even fewer craft their reflections with his technical precision. —A.G.

Reneé Rapp has drastically switched up her game since her excellent 2023 debut, Snow Angel — and it’s a glorious noise to hear. She spends Bite Me enjoying what a rowdy-and-proud mess she is, for one of the year’s most delightful pop blowouts, an uproarious 33-minute celebration of sex, drugs, and rock & roll. It’s her first album since coming out, and damn, she’s making up for lost time, with bangers full of Hollywood parties and thirsty groupies and hangovers and the mad dash to the next club. It’s a concept album where the concept is “If I can’t be happy, then at least I’m hot.” —R.S.

Alex Giannascoli was one of the first and finest acts to break through in the 2010s by posting his home-recorded music straight to Bandcamp, and his tried-and-true methods haven’t stopped yielding uncannily compelling results. On his first album for a major label, his ability to create a sound that feels at once magical and lived-in remains remarkable, like whole histories of folk and rock music are expressing themselves through this one chill guy. Whether you’ve been riding with him for years or you’re thinking of joining up today, Headlights is an album that won’t make you regret that choice. —S.V.L.

The 25-year-old West London rap sensation Central Cee has proven he can be a reliable Gen Z hitmaker with the streaming stats to back it up, all before dropping a debut album. With Can’t Rush Greatness, he’s out to show that he can live up to the hype, and at 17 tracks spanning a range of sounds and styles, the album makes his case mightily. A true representative of his generation (“Gen Z Love” has the makings of an anthem for an era), Cench is as attentive to the music as the optics surrounding it, and his acumen for both is what makes his debut album a success. —J.I.