Ugly is Beautiful is a wild ride—equal parts absurdist comedy and genuine introspection. It’s an album that could have easily been a gimmick, but Oliver Tree proves he’s more than just a walking meme. Is it perfect? No. But it’s perfectly him, and in that lies its charm. If this really is his first and last album (though let’s be real, he’ll probably come back), it’s a ridiculous and bold way to bow out.

Oncle Jazz is a blissed-out triumph. It might be long, and sure, some tracks could blend into the wallpaper of your subconscious, but that’s the point. This album doesn’t need to shout to get your attention—it invites you in with a whisper, and by the time you leave, you feel like you’ve been gently cradled by sound. Keep it on repeat, because like the best dreams, you won’t want to wake up.

At first glance, Zaba seems like the kind of album you’d play in a trendy lounge bar, one with lots of ferns and people who think wearing bucket hats indoors is revolutionary. It’s humid, lush, and brimming with trippy sounds—half rainforest, half synth-driven fever dream. But if you listen too long, you might start wondering if you’ve been walking through the same jungle loop for hours. Spoiler: you have.

Aurora’s debut album feels like walking through a Norwegian forest where the trees whisper existential truths and fairies occasionally bop you on the head with synth-pop anthems. It’s eerie, it’s enchanting, and somehow, it’s pop music.

Imagine if Daft Punk threw a disco party in space and invited Phoenix, only to discover they’d also booked an existential crisis. That’s Tako Tsubo—a sleek, groovy record that somehow makes heartbreak feel like a glittering, neon dream.

The debut Gorillaz album isn’t just music—it’s a surreal, genre-bending journey through lo-fi beats, hip-hop swagger, and rock-infused electronic anthems, daring listeners to embrace the beautifully bizarre.

Americana by The Offspring is a sharp, infectious mix of punk snark and pop accessibility that skewers American culture with wit, energy, and hooks that will have you pressing repeat, whether you’re here to mosh or laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Discovery by Daft Punk is a genre-defining odyssey that fuses past and future into an exhilarating dance album that makes you want to hit repeat as soon as it ends—proof that robots really can feel.

Erratic Cinematic by Gerry Cinnamon is a raw, unfiltered debut that skips studio gloss in favor of pub-ready anthems and heartfelt storytelling, embodying the spirit of the everyman with an authenticity that resonates deeply.

Ends & Begins by Labrinth is an ambitious, lushly produced album that aims for cosmic emotional heights but sometimes stumbles under the weight of its own grandeur, offering standout moments yet lacking a cohesive narrative to fully captivate.

Rat Saw God by Wednesday is a gritty, emotionally charged indie rock album that masterfully blends raw storytelling, Southern grunge, and heartfelt chaos into an unforgettable 37-minute sonic experience.

Erykah Badu’s But You Caint Use My Phone dials up plenty of potential but never quite connects, leaving listeners with a mixtape that’s more missed call than masterpiece.

Ed Sheeran’s Subtract aims for stripped-down vulnerability but ends up feeling more like a mournful whisper than an engaging melody, a somber experiment in emotional minimalism that might leave fans searching for the spark in his previous hits.

Westerman’s An Inbuilt Fault is an atmospheric dive into existential musings, artfully blending moody folk and art-pop textures that beg for a quiet, contemplative listen—perfect for those ready to wrestle with life’s deeper questions.

Caroline Polachek’s Desire, I Want to Turn Into You is an exhilarating, genre-defying plunge into pop that dares you to get lost—and you’ll love every dizzying second.

Che Lingo’s Coming Up For Air aims to dive deep into personal struggles but leaves listeners lost in a swirl of disconnected beats and mixed intentions.

Caravan Palace’s Chronologic is the modern, genre-bending groove that proves electro-swing isn’t stuck in the past—it’s here to electrify the future.

João Gilberto’s Chega de Saudade is the breezy, soul-deep album that doesn’t just play in the background—it transforms the entire room.