GREENTEA PENG, TELL DEM IT'S SUNNY

Greentea Peng is the kind of artist that grabs my attention. Self-describing as a psychedelic R&B artist, her genre-fluid experimentation with neo-soul and alternative R&B and fusion of spiritual consciousness and street realism makes her stand apart from easy categorization. 

Tell Dem It’s Sunny, her third studio album, Peng, whose real name is Aria Wells, turns inward. Where 2021’s Man Made responded to lockdown with outward protest, this record reflects on motherhood, mental health, and a growing skepticism toward mainstream ideas of healing. Despite its title, the album leans grey in both tone and sound. The phrase “Tell Dem It’s Sunny” began as irony but became a reminder of inner light. Moving away from the flower-child image often attached to her, Peng focuses on what she calls “the politics of the personal”—emotional unrest, identity, and staying grounded in a chaotic world. 

Musically, the album follows Peng’s intuitive process. Dub, soul, and psych elements drift through the tracks, with songs like “TARDIS” emerging through what she describes as channelling. The sound is loose and unpolished, with a great groove that’s more concerned with feeling than perfection. 

Reflection on parenthood, inner conflict, and staying present in a restless world, Tell Dem It’s Sunny is full of hope. For Peng, hope isn’t a pose—it’s something practiced. And she practices it here with feeling and great strength.

CHARLEY CROCKETT, LONESOME DRIFTER

It’s hard to keep up with Charley Crockett. He’s a man constantly on the move, recording and touring with the kind of urgency that’s become a signature. That includes rejecting the traditional 18- to 24-month album cycle and instead releasing new music roughly every six months for nearly a decade.

Now, the Texas-born troubadour, long known for his fiercely independent approach, is entering a new chapter with the release of his 15th album, Lonesome Drifter. After years of self-releasing music through his own label, Crockett has signed with Universal Music Group’s Island Records, marking his first major label deal. In a message to fans, he wrote, “Some say time is money. I say time is a train, and I'm running alongside of it on the only highway.” It’s a poetic line that perfectly captures his forward motion and refusal to be fenced in.

Despite the shift to a major label, Crockett secured full creative control and ownership in the deal, ensuring the freedom he’s always prized remains intact. And like his previous recordings, he worked with a sense of urgency and momentum with The Lonesome Drifter, recording it in just 10 days in Los Angeles with producer Shooter Jennings.

Musically, Lonesome Drifter is classic Crockett: storytelling-rich, rooted in country, folk, and blues, and deeply reflective of everyday struggles. “Game I Can’t Win,” inspired by Woody Guthrie, critiques systemic inequity, while “Easy Money,” born from a poem he wrote while watching Midnight Cowboy, explores illusions of fast wealth. The album closes with a bold take on George Strait’s “Amarillo By Morning”—a song Crockett initially hesitated to touch, but ultimately embraced for its honesty and grit. “I’m not George Strait,” he said. “I’m not a rodeo guy. But ‘I’m not rich, but Lord, I’m free’—that’s how I live my life.”

Crockett’s story, from busking on the streets of New Orleans, California, and Paris to handing out homemade CDs, has always been rooted in hustle, instinct, and staying true to his vision. With Lonesome Drifter, he’s not slowing down. In fact, it’s just the beginning of a planned trilogy. The second installment is already complete, and the third is underway.

Charley Crockett may be running alongside time like it’s a train on the only highway, but make no mistake, he’s the one laying down the tracks.

STEVEN WILSON, THE OVERVIEW

To Steven Wilson, 2001: A Space Odyssey is the defining film about space—not as a conquered frontier or a backdrop for adventure, as many movies depict, but as a vast, indifferent expanse of terrifying scale and emptiness where humanity is insignificant. It’s this understanding of space’s true nature that served as the genesis of his new album, The Overview, in which he seeks to capture that of overwhelming perspective.

Inspired by the "overview effect"—the cognitive shift astronauts experience when seeing Earth from space—The Overview mirrors that moment of existential realization. The album consists of two extended compositions: Objects Outlive Us (23 minutes) and The Overview (18 minutes), designed as immersive sonic journeys that take listeners beyond our world. Its structure follows a trajectory from our solar system into deep space, passing celestial landmarks before plunging into the Eridanus Supervoid—a cosmic void spanning 1.8 billion light-years.

Though the album wrestles with existential themes, Wilson does not intend for it to be bleak. Instead, he embraces the idea that humanity’s fleeting existence is something beautiful—a rare and random occurrence in an unfathomably large universe.

Wilson has long been closely associated with progressive rock and often hailed as its torchbearer for decades. Yet he has consistently resisted strict genre classifications. On The Overview, however, he fully embraces progressive rock, citing its grand scale and conceptual ambition as a natural fit for the album’s themes. Still, he avoids predictable prog tropes, favoring dynamic arrangements, melodic motifs, and unexpected production choices.

Lyrically, the album juxtaposes the mundane details of everyday human life with the incomprehensible forces of the cosmos—a contrast he developed with Andy Partridge (XTC), whose observational storytelling helps bridge the two perspectives.

I've always been an enthusiast of long-form musical structures, and this approach naturally fits the album’s themes, reinforcing its cinematic scope. While echoes of Pink Floyd may surface in The Overview, Wilson acknowledges that certain elements might also remind listeners of Blade Runner, a film and soundtrack deeply embedded in his creative DNA. However, he considers his primary influence to be his own evolving body of work, constantly pushing himself to explore new creative terrain without repeating the past.

It’s Wilson’s relentless pursuit of new creative spaces that I admire most about him as an artist. With each new album, he carves out a unique musical world, asking listeners to suspend disbelief—along with their expectations—and embark on a journey with him. With The Overview, that journey becomes a 42-minute celestial odyssey that is immersive, arresting, and a visionary achievement.

THE LATHUMS, MATTER DOES NOT DEFINE

Self-described as "four young whippersnappers" from the town of Wigan, Greater Manchester, England, The Lathums are out to prove that melodic "jangle pop" guitar music lives on. And they do so in great fashion on their third album in four years, Matter Does Not Define.

Since forming in 2018, the band has cultivated a distinctive sound shaped by a diverse array of musical influences. The Smiths, The Housemartins, Arctic Monkeys, and The Beatles have all found their way into The Lathums' unique blend of British rock.

While their inspirations remain clear, The Lathums never sound like imitators. Instead, they channel the spirit of classic British indie rock through a lens that’s their own. Alex Moore’s vocals carry a heartfelt sincerity, whether soaring over shimmering guitars or settling into quieter, contemplative moments. Scott Concepcion’s guitar work, often drawing comparisons to Johnny Marr, provides the band with its bright, intricate melodies, while the rhythm section of Ryan Durrans and Matty Murphy keeps the songs grounded with a tight, dynamic energy.

On Matter Does Not Define, The Lathums continue to build on their signature blend of jangly, melodic guitar work and earnest lyricism, delivering a record that feels both nostalgic and fresh. From the anthemic swell of No Direction to the introspective musings of Reflections of Lessons Left, the album showcases a band growing in both confidence and musical depth.

For me, Matter Does Not Define is The Lathums' best album to date. With each release, they refine their craft, and here, their songwriting is sharper and their arrangements more ambitious. The result is an album that feels like a natural evolution—one that reaffirms their place in the modern indie landscape while paying homage to the timeless sound they so clearly love.

RAPT, UNTIL THE LIGHT TAKES US

Jacob Ware’s musical journey begins in the home he grew up in, surrounded by the sounds of Joni Mitchell, Pentangle, and Van Morrison. These artists, rich with storytelling and intricate instrumentation, quietly shaped his sensibilities long before he ever picked up an instrument himself. However, his first real foray into music was far from the gentle strums of folk—he found his place in the extreme metal scene as the founding bassist of the UK black metal band Enslavement.

For eight years, Ware immersed himself in the relentless intensity of black metal, a genre built on aggression and atmosphere. But over time, something in him pulled away from the distortion and fury. His childhood influences never left him, and he gradually gravitated toward music that mirrored the warmth and introspection of the records that played in his youth. This transition led to the creation of Rapt—a project that fuses his metal roots with a newfound appreciation for ambient textures and folk’s delicate vulnerability. 

Ware's approach to songwriting is as unorthodox as his musical evolution. Rather than writing songs and then deciding on a title, He begins with an album name and builds the music around it. Until the Light Takes Us, his latest release, emerged from this process. The title, borrowed from a 2008 documentary about the Norwegian black metal scene, served as a foundation for the album’s themes: mortality, endings, and the unknown that follows. It’s an album about finality, but not in a way that feels entirely bleak—there is a certain peace to the way Ware explores these ideas, a sense of acceptance rather than fear. 

Musically, Until the Light Takes Us is a tapestry of lush acoustic guitar, atmospheric piano, and airy, melancholic vocals. The album is steeped in folk traditions but carries the weight and cinematic depth of Ware’s past in metal—his ability to craft immersive, heavy moods, even in this softer setting. Through this record, he hoped not only to explore the idea of endings but also to create something that meets listeners wherever they are in their own experiences with change and loss. Ultimately, Until the Light Takes Us is a meditation on the unknown, offering solace in its contemplative beauty. It’s gorgeous, thought-provoking, comforting, and near perfect.

DITZ, NEVER EXHALE

I have always appreciated artists who challenging convention and defy expectations along the way—it’s one of the reasons I listen to music. DITZ, a Brighton-based noise rock and post-hardcore band, is one of those artists. Since forming in the mid-2010s, they have built a reputation for their abrasive sound, chaotic live shows, and unfiltered intensity.

With Never Exhale, their third album in four years, the band distills their sound into a striking, urgent form, blending punishing walls of sound with moments of eerie restraint. Recorded in London, the album’s restless nature explores themes of alienation, frustration, and self-reflection, with lead vocalist and guitarist Cal Francis delivering lyrics that blur the line between personal confession and universal angst.

There’s something cathartic about listening to Never Exhale. It forces a release of something I didn’t even realize needed to be let go. In doing so, I found myself drawn to the album not only for challenging convention but for reshaping my expectations of the kind of album that can take me to a place I didn’t even know I needed to be.