September is always stacked. The summer lull of album releases is over and the late flurry of new albums announced for release before the end of the year rolls in. Appropriately, we have an absolutely stuffed edition of our monthly playlist, which will ensure you’re up to date all the latest essentials.
Below is the track list and some notes from our team about why they’ve selected them for this month’s playlist.
Andy Stott – “Something in mind” (feat. Elaine Howley)
A gem of a lead single from electronic wizard Andy Stott’s first album in years, “Something in mind” attains perfection with the help of Elaine Howley’s vocals. “Isn’t this how diamonds are made?” she asks. Yes, yes it is. – Ethan Reis
Angela Autumn – “Millionaire Money”
Many standout tracks exist on Angela Autumn’s impressively arranged new record Believer, but “Millionaire Money” offers a nice synthesis of them all: satisfyingly dissonant, wildly cynical, and catchy as heck. Hailing from Nashville, Autumn absorbs the south’s cultural connotations and regurgitates them with her signature crooning, sounding like a fusion of Big Thief’s Adrienne Lenker and Buck Meek’s voices. Every time I think the indie-country/folk genre is tired, records like Believer pull me back in. – Nathan Skinner
AZ Chike – “Negative”
The way folk focused on the post-“Not Like Us” of it all with Chike be damned. Of course Kendrick brings eyes, but this is the sort of album I thought YG was going to prove capable of after Still Brazy. It bumps – and Chike delivers ruthlessly – with or without whatever context. Deserves to be a landmark 2026 rap offering. – Chase McMullen
CAMELPHAT – “Landlords Nightmare”
Hard to say if the Scouser wit is at play or if “Landlords Nightmare” is meant with a straight face, but CAMELPHAT have assembled something both seamless and simultaneously awkward. Initially reminiscent of when DJs first got a handle on hip-hop samples, this “Block Rockin’ Beats” successor tinkers with all things rave before embracing an unexpectedly tight, ass-less Eastern European groove. Get your yuks and cross your arms across your chest while alternating faux-Russian leg kicks, but you’ll be dancing seriously eventually, la. – Steve Forstneger
Cameron Knowler – “Skipping Town”
“Skipping Town” is part of a series of cassette demos Cameron Knowler has been putting out since the beginning of this year that all seem to reflect on an uncertain past. The pitch often flutters and wows as you can hear every imperfection the cassette transmits. Knowler’s instrumental prowess is not needed here; the simplicity of these lonely soundscapes perfectly encapsulates Knowler’s intentions. This latest release forces those who long for the home they willingly fled to reconcile with the decisions that they have made. – Nathan Skinner
Charlotte Adigéry & Bolis Pupul – “Googoo Gaga”
Their first as a duo release since 2022, Charlotte Adigéry and Bolis Pupul return with “Googoo Gaga”, a reflection on new parenthood and how draining the experience is. A small odyssey in itself, the track works through a trudge of repetition (“Eat, cry, crawl, yawn, and sleep / Swaddle, babble, sneeze, rock, carry, feed”) complete with a pitch-warped low voice reciting the babyish words from the song’s title. As the final minute approaches the song whips into club mode, an almost ecstatic release from “poo and pee and poo and pee” (lyrics that only Adigéry could make sound not wholly cringe). An unflinching and realistic snapshot of raising a small child, the track may boast unique production choices, but sticks with you as document of exhaustion. “It takes a village, and yet you’re doing it alone.” Any new parent will attest to that. – Ray Finlayson
Chat Pile – “Intruder”
With all this hammering on about Who Loves the Sun being Chat Pile’s darkest, most pessimistic and sludgy album yet, some critics seem have to missed that it’s also the band’s most pop-oriented work to date! Yes, it’s an album well qualified to annoy your neighbors with, as you sing along in full volume! “Intruder” might be the best candidate for this rite: a chromatic, Killing Joke’esque song that explores the undead dynamic between victim and perpetrator, societal vilification and self-annihilation. Raygun’s manic performance, as his voice spirals up towards bone chilling screams in the final third is utterly amazing, while the band deliver one of their best compositions. On a record that lines hits up like pearls on a string, it’s a stone cold standout! – John Wohlmacher
Colin Stetson and Brìghde Chaimbeul – “All the light in the world”
Few things can raise the hairs on my neck like the moaning exhalations of Colin Stetson’s saxophone, itself a beast of tubes and keys and tone holes. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating to embrace the wall of sound he commands through its form, a tidal force of cloaked melodies and dread-inducing rhythms. And on “All the Light in the World”, the title track to his latest collection, a sprawling set made in collaboration with Scottish smallpipes experimentalist Brìghde Chaimbeul, Stetson once again carves out a staggering monument to the overwhelming sensations his instrument can express while also making room for Chaimbeul’s pipes. It’s an unsettling and gorgeous bit of noise making from two artists whose sonic perspectives seem perfectly aligned in their musical impulsiveness. – Joshua Pickard
Gilla Band – “Crisp Pop”
Not even a week since its release, Pugnello is leading the album to the year race on multiple critic and audience aggregator sites. What a crazy, strange, unique record! “Crisp Pop” is a perfect sample of this: while the band delivers a perverse reference to The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil” over crackling rhythms, vocalist Dara Kiely likens Brit Pop bands to crisp flavors: “Cheese and Onion: Oasis / Salt and Vinegar: Blur / Prawn cocktail: Pulp / Ready Salted: Travis!” I wonder what Jarvis Cocker would make of this? The song detonates into a barrage of wordplay with British meta-references – some quite transparent, others lost on me. It’s blistering, manic mutant disco poignancy camouflaged as nonsense, so: absolutely brilliant! – John Wohlmacher
Jess Williamson – “High Heels and Blue Jeans”
Inspired by hard times survived while on tour, “High Heels and Blue Jeans” finds Jess Williamson documenting the various ways in which women must perform to accommodate a world that forces them to conform to specific roles. She shapes the base elements of country and folk music in her own image, providing a foundation of pedal steel and shuffling percussion that speak to the music’s storied history while also turning the genres inside out. It’s familiar, twangy, and buoyed by Williamson’s evocative voice but also wrapped in caustic revelation. But the song doesn’t wallow in dour realizations; it acknowledges the darkness while offering suggestions on how to push back against those encroaching shadows. – Joshua Pickard
Julia Jacklin – “If I had the Hand of God”
Ruminative and introspective, Jacklin’s new album The Gem is her most mature and refined work to date. Going through a lengthy process, Jacklin evolved these songs into graceful mini-epics, which connect with the spirit of Aimee Mann or Weyes Blood. And it has legitimate hits: “If I had the Hand of God” is a gentle, graceful song, filled with passion and faint melancholy. A song that could have originated in 1972, 1993, 2005 – exceptional throughout! – John Wohlmacher
Lily Seabird – “Lightspheres on Their Way”
There’s a grizzled warmth to “Lightspheres on Their Way,” the title track to Vermont musician Lily Seabird’s latest album, and it allows her to accept that the world will always be a spectrum of experiences and emotions. Nothing is set in stone, and even memory can work against us when circumstances favor impulse over reason. Anchored by guitars that would make Tom Petty proud, she explores a Heartland rock atmosphere while continuing to evolve in her understanding of how these sounds can draw out an unexpected emotional resonance. The result is a song that defies easy categorization and plants its feet firmly in its own rollicking headspace, offering a sonic jamboree for those who find hope despite the hardships that surround them. – Joshua Pickard
LiSa – “SaWaDiKa”
Guess I stay the Lisa apologist to all the obsessive Twitter hate? Let’s break it down. Does the beat make you move? Is the hook catchy with a melody that seems to imbed itself after a listen? Does the given artist have presence? Yeah, that’s a good pop song. – Chase McMullen
Marina Herlop – “Bliss”
Catalan artist Marina Herlop is a sculptor of sound – and she makes some weirdly lumpen pieces out of it. “Bliss” is a perfect example – starting with exalted horns suggesting a regal approach, she quickly dissolves that and morphs it into a playfully shimmying art-pop confection. Then it becomes a violin-led spine tingler. Then it goes through more stages that aren’t worth attempting to describe. It’s all glued together by Herlop’s singularity of vision – and downright savant ability with rhythm and texture. – Rob Hakimian
Nicolas Bougaïeff – “Light Wave”
Yes, yes, all music deserves to be listened to attentively and with good headphones — it’s not always the case, particularly when an unsolicited recommendation hits the in-tray. “Light Wave” demands the white, er, glove treatment and not just because the Berliner Techno-DJ has shown mercy from his customary assault of bludgeoning beats. There’s magic in the way Nicolas Bougaïeff turns a breathing, pseudo-dubstep bounce into the track’s emotional core and gentle xylophone tones become a stately, house-music homage. – Steve Forstneger
Protomartyr – “Converts”
Our very own John Amen made an interesting observation when he likened the titular establishment of Protomartyr’s Hotel Usona (US on A) to the “Hotel California” – his comparison insinuates an evolution of this mythical, liminal space that functions as manifested subconsciousness of America. Joe Casey understands his hotel as sort of a less mythological and more symbolist realm: a house of glory, of power, where the rich elite enters and exists, constantly supplanted by the next inhabitants.
The uneasy musical tapestry of the place marries operatic, wagnerian epics and generic lounge Jazz as arabesques for Protomartyr’s muscular post-punk sound – as if visitors exist between laziness and imagined (fascist) glory. On “Converts”, the inhabitants become concrete – “sulfurous Pete, a wax German Nazgûl” is Peter Thiel, obviously, while “two feeble minds, who their mother despised, patrol their bleak horizons”. It’s a magnificent house of horrors, with the residents locked in, like frozen Lucifer in the innermost circle of hell.
The most openly sad and gentle song on the album, “Converts” creates a cinematic idea of the decline of the waning American empire: the power players are bad jokes, wasting their time tending to their neurosis. Just don’t ask where they go after dark! – John Wohlmacher
Radie Peat – “The Moon And Stars”
Radie Peat is no stranger to singing about dark topics in her other acts, Lankum and ØXN, and that’s set to continue and deepen on her debut solo record. “The Moon And Stars” may have a glimmering, celestial title, but its subject matter is earth-bound and gritty. The protagonist sings to a former lover who promised her everything but instead left her high and dry with an unwanted life growing inside her. As Peat sings “I wish I’d never seen your face or heard your lying tongue,” you feel the guttural venom, while a gothic synth churns in the background, emphasising the unquenchable hatred that now boils in her blood. There is no resolution, just pure bile and pity – but its riveting, righteous stuff. – Rob Hakimian
Sova – “The Owls Are Not What They Seem“
Music was an integral part of the Twin Peaks universe and while Sova’s nod to that universe might not be as nightmarish as anything that soundtrack the series, it works with tension and empty space in a way not dissimilar to the TV show. Piano chords build, a plucking feathery noise agitating to a crescendo. Blending classical, jazz, and ambient influences, it makes for a textured tapestry with minimal elements. The components fittingly are not what they seem. – Ray Finlayson
Tinashe – “Empty Stadium” / “Flashbacks”
Of all Tinashe’s virtues, master sequencer isn’t often enough heralded as one of them. Especially beginning with Songs for You, but throughout her career, she’s delivered songs that already sizzle on their own, only to bloom and spiral into the next. These two are a pitch perfect example of just that: “Empty Stadium” is part of the big meta-tapestry of the album, sliding from the fears/delusions/ecstacy of stardom (and a fantastic Jungle-influenced beat) into the glitchy, covetously jealous, sultry sex anthem. She does no wrong. – Chase McMullen
Listen to our BPM Curates: September 2026 playlist here.
