{"id":2304572,"date":"2026-02-28T05:30:32","date_gmt":"2026-02-28T05:30:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/?p=2304572"},"modified":"2026-02-28T05:30:32","modified_gmt":"2026-02-28T05:30:32","slug":"12-new-albums-to-stream-this-week","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/12-new-albums-to-stream-this-week\/","title":{"rendered":"12 new albums to stream this week"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Paste is the place to kick off each and every New Music Friday. We follow our regular roundups of the best new songs<\/a> by highlighting the most compelling new records you need to hear. Find the best new albums of the week below.<\/em><\/p>\n

Bill Callahan: My Days of 58<\/em><\/h2>\n

Bill Callahan describes My Days of 58<\/em> as a \u201cliving room record.\u201d And while you can easily imagine these relaxed songs being played on a couple of couches fronted by a Barcalounger, it\u2019s also astonishing how much atmosphere and movement the singer and his band can muster while just shifting on cushions. The desolate \u201cLonely City\u201d gradually builds a warm, driving camaraderie as hazy backing rises like sidewalk steam, percussion pounds the pavement, and Eve Searls\u2019 backing vocals whistle down the deserted streets of this living room metropolis. Likewise, album masterpiece \u201cStepping Out for Air\u201d sees Callahan seeking out beauty and answers through the gloom, horns at his back like a northerly wind when he steps outside, as a wingman when he dresses to the nines, and as Gabriel\u2019s own alarm calls him home. It\u2019s a gorgeous seven minutes of colliding sounds that reminds us that Callahan composes and orchestrates as much as he simply sings and strums. As Callahan demonstrates across My Days of 58<\/em>, there\u2019s not a question he\u2019s unwilling to ask or a path he\u2019s too paralyzed to venture down, even if the promise of some tidy resolution seems bleak. \u2014Matt Melis<\/em> [Drag City]<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Read:<\/strong> \u201cThe man Bill Callahan is trying to be\u201d<\/a><\/p>\n

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Bruno Mars: The Romantic<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"It\u2019s been ten years since the last Bruno Mars LP, but 24K Magic<\/em> did all right for itself, taking home Album of the Year (and five other awards) at the Grammys. But don\u2019t mistake ten years without an album as some sort of hiatus. Mars has been anything but still: he topped the charts with Lady Gaga and Ros\u00e9 (and won more Grammys for doing so), co-led the short-lived Silk Sonic project with Anderson .Paak, played cover songs with rock and roll legends at rich-people parties, and took up residency in Las Vegas. Considering how woven into the last 20 years of pop music he\u2019s been, I admire how someone like Mars can step out of the limelight but never step away from it. The Romantic<\/em> does exactly what you want it to, which is to further confirm why Mars is among the most talented living performers. He operates out of noticeable vintageness but makes those tones palatable to new generations. That\u2019s why \u201cDance With Me\u201d is one of the greatest songs he\u2019s ever done, because Mars can pull a groove out of anyplace. \u2014Matt Mitchell<\/em> [Atlantic]<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Buck Meek: The Mirror<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"Although it\u2019s a solo album, Buck Meek doesn\u2019t embark on this journey alone. Collaborators such as his brother and keyboardist Dylan; bassist Ken Woodward; harpist Mary Lattimore; and Big Thief bandmates Adrianne Lenker and James Krivchenia, the latter of whom also produced The Mirror<\/em>, are just some of the musicians who join him at various stops along the way. Krivchenia, in particular, helps to subtly expand Meek\u2019s indie-folk template. The drummer\u2019s own electronic solo work now informs Meek\u2019s, whose songs are littered with flourishes of modular synth and elliptical textures performed by Adiran Olsen. There are the modern-day-Alex G squelches in the intro of \u201cCan I Mend It?\u201d; the sputtering synths toward the end of \u201cDeja Vu\u201d; and the splashes of arpeggio on the feeble little horse-esque closer \u201cOutta Body.\u201d The Mirror<\/em> may not be as all-encompassing or adventurous, but it partly recalls how Big Thief gestured toward the electronic world on 2022\u2019s double LP, Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You<\/em>, notably on mid-album cuts like \u201cHeavy Bend\u201d and \u201cBlurred View.\u201d The key focus this time, however, is Meek\u2019s songwriting, but there are fine-drawn textural layers that sustain it throughout. The scattered synths lend his songs an esoteric edge, emphasizing the latent abstractions that animate romantic affection. The Mirror<\/em> doesn\u2019t concern itself with solving love\u2019s mysteries so much as guiding us to their existence, showcasing them in all their arcane splendor, angling its resplendent reflections toward us. \u2014Grant Sharples<\/em> [4AD]<\/strong><\/p>\n

cootie catcher: Something We All Got<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"Something We All Got<\/em> is full off-axis instrumentals that whiz by you. Electric guitars fray and detune as songs chug along, live drum grooves from Joseph Shemoun take up arms against the programmed beats, and Sophia Chavez\u2019s scratches recall the DJs of \u201890s pop rock. The entire thing is twitchy and uneasy, the soundtrack of being twenty-something and figuring it all out on record. A lesser band would lose themselves inside their laptops, doubling down on digital abstractions, but cootie catcher remains firmly enthralled with the possibilities of being twee. Even with a few radio-ready moments, the catchiest song here is called \u201cpuzzle pop,\u201d the title of which basically sums up cootie catcher\u2019s whole deal as well as anyone could. But if cootie catcher is all post-modern pop collage, situated somewhere between the Vaselines and Disco Inferno, Something We All Got<\/em> contrasts that bursting-at-the-seams sound with songs about typical frustrations that come with mediocre relationships, odd jobs, and fairweather friends. The language they use is casual\u2014and occasionally interrupted by la\u2019s, oh\u2019s and ah\u2019s\u2014but all three vocalists manage to relay real disappointment. \u201cGingham dress\u201d sees Chavez exasperated with a date who doesn\u2019t \u201cknow where this will go\u201d after eight months; \u201cStraight drop\u201d centers around the image of Anita Fowl crying on the bus; the Pavement-like stumble of \u201cNo biggie\u201d finds Nolan Jakupovski grappling with a slipping relationship. Together, the three present a unified, bummed-out perspective. \u2014Ethan Beck<\/em> [Carpark]<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Read:<\/strong> \u201ccootie catcher: The Best of What\u2019s Next\u201d<\/a><\/p>\n

Gorillaz: The Mountain<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"The Mountain<\/em> acts as a kind of bookend to the unofficial trilogy of Gorillaz\u2019s location-based projects, each of which imagine Gorillaz embarking on a journey to a fictional world in service of commenting on our own. 2010\u2019s Plastic Beach<\/em>, still Gorillaz\u2019s best LP to date, could be considered the first entry of this series with its equally mournful and upbeat seafaring satire of our culture\u2019s destruction of the environment. 2023\u2019s Cracker Island<\/em> used a similar approach to explore the isolating nature of cultural echo chambers. In contrast to its predecessors, the commentary on The Mountain<\/em> takes a backseat in favor of a sincere attempt to find some kind of comfort and joy in the face of losing our loved ones. Albarn brings a fun, buzzy energy that helps some of the thematic heavy-handedness go down easier. The boppy disco fever of \u201cThe Moon Cave\u201d adds some groovy \u201880s flair to The Mountain<\/em>\u2019s melancholic slant, as do the New Wave synths and assist from avant-pop duo Sparks on the catchy if familiar \u201cThe Happy Dictator.\u201d The percussive sway of \u201cDamascus,\u201d which was originally written during the Plastic Beach<\/em> sessions but was swapped out for the track \u201cSweepstakes,\u201d fits much more here in the context of The Mountain<\/em>\u2019s sitar-heavy sound. The seven-minute centerpiece \u201cThe Manifesto\u201d is an ambitious, memorable doozy of a two-parter, with ear-grabbing features from Argentine hip-hop artist Trueno and the late rapper Proof. \u2014Sam Rosenberg<\/em> [Kong]<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Heavenly: Highway to Heavenly<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"Heavenly\u2019s first album since the 1990s is a return that was worth the wait. The band are indie-pop legends now; two years ago we named Atta Girl<\/em> one of the greatest EPs of all time. Amelia Fletcher and Cathy Rogers could have stayed away and let their impressive body of work do the talking, but Highway to Heavenly<\/em> makes the argument that good art simply has no expiration date and neither does Heavenly. The band sounds incredible on this album, frankly, whether it\u2019s during the sun-splashed hooks in \u201cSkep Wax,\u201d the sentimental rock ballad \u201cGood Times,\u201d or jangly lead single \u201cExcuse Me,\u201d which, as Grace Robins-Somerville wrote for us, \u201cshows the group at their catchiest.\u201d Heavenly even go disco on the cheekily-named \u201cA Different Beat.\u201d But \u201cThe Last Day,\u201d a song deeply motivated by grief, is perhaps the strongest appraisal of where Heavenly are in 2026. I\u2019m moved by the wisdom Fletcher and Rogers deliver to us on Highway to Heavenly<\/em>. It\u2019s never too late to be impossibly good. \u2014Matt Mitchell<\/em> [Skep Wax]<\/strong><\/p>\n

Iron & Wine: Hen\u2019s Teeth<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"Whereas the songs on 2024\u2019s Light Verse<\/em> mask their gloomy themes with gleeful instrumentation, Hen\u2019s Teeth<\/em> is the inverse of that. This is an album that finds solace in sorrow; the gratification that can arise from devotion to the point of self-erasure; and watching something bigger than yourself flourish from an act of giving. Given that Light Verse<\/em> was the first proper Iron & Wine album since 2017\u2019s Beast Epic<\/em>, the short release window between Hen\u2019s Teeth<\/em> and its predecessor seems like yet another tethering device. But its inverse themes make for something deeper and more convincing. It isn\u2019t subversive, per se, as it draws from the same indie-folk stylings and finger-picked guitars as its direct sibling (and its many cousins in other Iron & Wine albums), yet that doesn\u2019t dull its impact so much as call attention to its more novel embellishments. Paul Jacob Cartwright\u2019s trilling violin makes for a warm presence on \u201cSinging Saw.\u201d Mandola, zither, and tenor guitar, courtesy of Cartwright and David Garza, add textural flair and tonal depth throughout. I\u2019m With Her\u2019s guest harmonies on \u201cRobin\u2019s Egg\u201d and \u201cWait Up\u201d blend seamlessly with the songs\u2019 filigreed arrangements. Across these ten songs, Beam explores romance\u2019s well-documented dichotomy of pleasure and pain, but the act of listening to the music itself is pure pleasure. \u2014Grant Sharples<\/em> [Sub Pop]<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Lala Lala: Heaven 2<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"Lillie West has never sounded quite this glossy or this gutted. Heaven 2<\/em> finds Lala Lala draping late\u2011\u201990s pop shimmer and trip\u2011hop thump over the same old stomachache, all sleek synths, rubbery bass, and melodies that feel weirdly familiar in that \u201cradio on in the back of your mom\u2019s car\u201d way. Co\u2011produced with Jay Som, the record moves like a string of little private epiphanies set to big, ventilated electronics: \u201cCar Anymore\u201d and \u201cScammer\u201d hum with low\u2011grade panic under their clubby surfaces, \u201cEven Mountains Erode\u201d shrugs out some of her sharpest lines over a beat that sounds built for walking laps around the block, and \u201cDoes This Go Faster?\u201d weaponizes one of her most undeniable choruses against the bummer that \u201chell is the day after the party.\u201d Dirt and concrete keep sneaking into the lyrics\u2014parking lots, cities, Wyoming soil\u2014as if she\u2019s testing different kinds of ground to see which, if any, feels like it\u2019ll hold. By the time \u201cWyoming Dirt\u201d signs off with \u201cI always leave a place \/ I always leave somebody in the dirt,\u201d the album feels less like a search for some perfect afterlife and more like a catalog of all the ways ecstasy curdles into consequence. Heaven, here, is a flash; the hangover is where the real record lives. \u2014Casey Epstein-Gross<\/em> [Sub Pop]<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Maria BC: Marathon<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"Maria BC\u2019s Marathon<\/em> sees the artist sidestepping such intense devotion to production in favor of honing their songwriting\u2014in search of something \u201dmore concise,\u201d but also \u201cdynamic and varied,\u201d by their own estimation. The record\u2019s title track, which also serves as its opener and lead single, arrives as a clear introductory statement, delivering on the now-established trend of elevated stakes with each project\u2019s arrival. This time, the change comes in the form of a crushing drone-metal dirge inspired by a gas station signage near their childhood home, splitting the Maria BC sonic palette open with each guitar stroke acting as blunt-force attack. Those looking for a more overt, extreme approach to the material, tapping into a more visceral ambient flavor, might be slightly let down by the less audacious shift between the sound of this release and the last. Nevertheless, Marathon<\/em> emerges as a record which rewards close listening, like its predecessors, providing the opportunity for an interested listener to unearth textures and tricks not quite evident after one spin on the turntable. Where the less sonically-daring tracks shine still lies in Maria BC\u2019s ability to manipulate and reshape sound, transforming an oblique lyrical idea into something that sounds like an atmospheric transmission from beyond, aging the sentiment into something ancient with the sheer depth of a guitar sound\u2014as if these strange songs, built on childhood vignettes and pleas of masochistic devotion, have always existed. For every clanging rhythm igniting the fuse of a track like \u201cThe sound\u201d or the eclectic instrumentation of \u201cRare,\u201d there is the staticky, fidgeting hymn of closer \u201cMiami,\u201d stripped of obvious experimentation but still bearing the bones of historical songcraft. Even in its sparseness, intensity is never spared. \u2014Elise Soutar<\/em> [Sacred Bones]<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Mitski: Nothing\u2019s About to Happen to Me<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"Mitski\u2019s eighth album plays like a haunted house tour where every room is another way of being alone, and every window looks out on a world that suddenly knows your name. Nothing\u2019s About to Happen to Me<\/em> folds the TikTok-famous torch singer, the theatrical Laurel Hell auteur, and the scrappy Bury Me at Makeout Creek<\/em> lifer into a single reclusive narrator: a woman holed up in a crumbling house full of cats, ghosts, and bad thoughts, insisting \u201cnothing\u201d is happening while death and memory keep knocking at the door. The pedal steel, banjo, and small\u2011town twang from The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We<\/em> are all stitched to fuzzed\u2011out guitar blowouts and orchestral swells, her touring band moving from parlor\u2011bar jazz to panic\u2011attack punk without ever losing their grip. Meanwhile, she imagines fans and friends only really loving her as a corpse, turns a missing phone into a full\u2011blown spiral, feeds the dead girls\u2019 dogs at night like some self\u2011appointed psychopomp, and spends whole songs arguing with a neighborhood cat about who actually owns the house. Beneath the gothic set dressing, though, the stakes are brutally recognizable: the partner who\u2019s the only witness to your real self, the fear that if you step outside you\u2019ll be consumed, the seduction of disappearing completely versus the stubborn, petty urge to keep living in your mess anyway. Nothing\u2019s About to Happen to Me<\/em> isn\u2019t a reinvention so much as Mitski turning all her previous eras into scenery\u2014a concept album that feels, perversely, like her most revealing work, even as she keeps the front door firmly shut. \u2014Casey Epstein-Gross<\/em> [Dead Oceans]<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nothing: a short history of decay<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"a short history of decay<\/em> gathers a new coterie of collaborators, as Nothing albums often do. Cloakroom\u2019s Doyle Martin plays guitar and contributes vocals; Manslaughter 777\u2019s Zachary Jones is behind the drum kit; Best Coast\u2019s Bobb Bruno is on bass. Even harpist Mary Lattimore joins the crew for the downtempo, orchestral \u201cpurple strings.\u201d Still, Palermo is the primary animating force, but for a band so commonly associated with noisy barrages and thrilling volumes, much of their latest record is relatively staid save for a handful of redemptive moments. The band\u2019s greatest strength is their juxtaposition of distorted intensity and dreamy atmosphere. Closing track \u201cessential tremors\u201d is an example of how Nothing operates when they hold these two forces in harmony. They slowly ratchet up the noise, building and building until the fuzzed-out bliss hits. Eventually, the noise clears, and all we\u2019re left with are the sputtering embers of a shrill guitar. It captures one of Nothing\u2019s most dynamic performances. \u2014Grant Sharples<\/em> [Run For Cover]<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Tony Bontana: My Name<\/em><\/h2>\n

\"\"\"\"Someone as creative as Tony Bontana understands the power of brevity, and he moves from one idea to the next at a rapid yet nonetheless smooth pace. Early highlight \u201cSoft Dreams\u201d offers a Midwest emo guitar backdrop for Bontana to excoriate those who remain grossly silent on the genocide against Palestinians, getting the point across in just two verses. \u201cTime might run up so I gotta speak my mind, right? \/ Free Palestine, I could never turn a blind eye,\u201d he raps, his voice loud and resonant over the gauzy instrumental. It transitions into the minute-long \u201cJohn Osbourne,\u201d a track built on cooing vocal samples, rhythmic synth stabs, and Bontana\u2019s meditations on grief from his mother\u2019s death. It shortly dissolves into \u201cAbsolution,\u201d one of two tracks on My Name<\/em> to breach the three-minute mark, whose ghostly chipmunk soul loops throughout the final minute or so before it filters into the brisk groove of the Leo Sierra-featuring \u201cRecoup.\u201d He covers a lot of ground in a small amount of time; its effect isn\u2019t vertiginous so much as it is spellbinding. Whether he\u2019s behind the mic or the mixing board, Bontana proves an adept force. On his previous releases, he displayed the splayed sound, introducing his audience to its conceptual framework. My Name<\/em>, by contrast, is not an introduction but an exhibition for those already familiar with his game. This is his apotheosis, the most fully realized project Bontana has released yet: a compelling portrait of an artist whose singular style refuses to be mistaken for anything else. \u2014Grant Sharples<\/em> [Everything Is Perfect]<\/strong><\/p>\n

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\u2018 The preceding article may include information circulated by third parties \u2019 <\/em><\/p>\n

\u2018 Some details of this article were extracted from the following source www.pastemagazine.com \u2019 <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Paste is the place to kick off each and every New Music Friday. We follow our regular roundups of the best new songs by highlighting the most compelling new records you need to hear. Find the best new albums of the week below. Bill Callahan: My Days of 58 Bill Callahan describes My Days of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":2304573,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"jnews-multi-image_gallery":[],"jnews_single_post":[],"jnews_primary_category":[],"jnews_social_meta":[],"footnotes":""},"categories":[25179],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2304572","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-music"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/12-new-albums-to-stream-this-week.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2304572","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2304572"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2304572\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2304574,"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2304572\/revisions\/2304574"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2304573"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2304572"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2304572"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/celebrity.land\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2304572"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}