I met a very nice guy at my favorite bar recently who has a spreadsheet with every restaurant he’s eaten at in Minnesota. It was organized by type of cuisine, vibe, area of town, whether or not it’s still open.
He’s my new hero.
From one list-lover to another, I met this spreadsheet with awe.
And it made me grateful I recently embarked on my own self-cataloguing odyssey: organizing my personal Top 100 Albums of All Time into a Topster graphic.
I’ll keep this list to myself … for now. (Though the top of the chart has no surprises, for those who know me: Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming; Punisher; I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning; Late for The Sky.)
It was incredibly difficult to assemble. But it was satisfying to see all the favorites stacked up next to each other.
When you squint, it looks like a high school yearbook — names at right, faces pressed against one another in a perfect grid. Eclectic, weird, cliquey. There are the nerds (Weezer, Ants From Up There), the jocks (Third Eye Blind, DAMN.), the popular-but-mean girls (brat, Kala). It’s fun to consider where the lines blurred.
I wonder if Chance the Rapper’s Coloring Book and Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois bonded over their love of Chicago. Did Graduation and Gossamer grow up in the same neighborhood of hot pink ether? Did Melodrama and Blood on The Tracks hang out when they both went stag to the prom? How bleak and abstract was the For Emma, Forever Ago signature in Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’s yearbook?
So as I sifted through the enormous pile of records released in July and August, I thought this might be a fun way to sum it up.
If every album released this summer went to high school together, ate the same shitty lunches, graduated in the same class and walked across the same stage — who would they be?
In that spirit, I channeled my inner somehow-didn’t-take-yearbook-class-despite-ya-know-everything-about-me and assigned superlatives.
I wish a very emphatic HAGS to all of these albums.
BEST NEW ENTRIES INTO THE WAXA-LENDERMAN CINEMATIC UNIVERSE
Brennan Wedl by Brennan Wedl | Hercules by Tracey Nelson
Minnesota-raised country musician releases new album produced by Waxahatchee and Brad Cook. Friend of Hotline TNT releases MJ Lenderman-co-produced album, featuring every member of Wednesday. This is what you’d put on a sign if you were looking to trap me in a Black Phone style basement. But it’s an actual real thing that happened, and my playlists haven’t recovered.
The now-Nashville-based Brennan Wedl absolutely smokes through her 13-track self-titled record. It is varyingly devastating and inspiring, with her Lucinda-meets-Kathleen Edwards voice anchoring each and every track. The album really hits a groove in the midpoint, with the juxtaposition of the lovably reckless “Let’s Be Models” and the vicious weapon that is “Just Another Daddy Who Did Me Wrong.” The former has lyrics like, “Let’s be loud and swing our tops around, take the train and show up at McDonald's.” The latter has the stabbing line, “I'll keep my head up high while you find yourself another blonde.” Brennan Wedl is a necessary piece of the 2020’s alt-country canon.
Like his pal MJ, Tracey Nelson balances punchlines and gut punches. On Hercules, there’s a breakup jam examined through the lens of a barbecue restaurant running out of dishes (“86”). There are lyrics about manatees, Lincoln Logs and Long John Silvers, interspersed with moments of religious angst. Wednesday glue guy Xandy Chelmis is all over this thing, playing the hell out of the pedal steel as he always does. This is a decisively summer record and a must-listen on any body of water. The river, the lake, the ocean — take Hercules with you.
MOST NATURAL SONIC PIVOTS
THRASHER by Brandon Flowers | Blue Island by Ravyn Lenae
The Killers frontman goes Cash-style country. The “Love Me Not” hitmaker dabbles in retro synth-pop. Both sound right at home.
For Flowers, his signature, booming Vegas voice feels so natural over vintage country instrumentation (from legends like Charlie McCoy and David Rawlings!) that it’s shocking he hasn’t done it to this full extent before. He dabbled in Springsteen-esque folk intimacy on The Killers second-wind masterpiece Pressure Machine. But Thrasher is pure country psychedelia. The songwriting is stellar, with vignettes of Southwestern youth on “Plans” and God-grasping opener “Does It Ever Cross Your Mind?” There’s one particularly rousing verse on “An American Dream” about a still-alive Elvis, which plays out like a less tacky version of that Lennon scene in the movie where the Beatles didn’t exist but Himesh Patel did.
Ravyn Lenae, like R&B breakout contemporaries Steve Lacy and Leon Thomas, has always kept a few toes in the waters of indie-pop. But she leans heavily into that influence with this new project, for which she’s namedropped The Sundays, Blondie and Lykke Li as major influences. Indeed, there are textural bits of new-wave and ‘80s pop, grounded by vocal melodies which call to mind Y2K-era R&B. She makes the most out of features from Dominic Fike and Doechii. And it all combines for some of the most memorable songs of her career so far, including standouts “Bobby” and “Never Let Me Go.”
THE IPOD-IMAX AWARD (FOR POP STARS WHO EXCELLED IN MUSIC, FASHION, FILM)
Music, Fashion, Film by Charli xcx | Oh yeah? by Steve Lacy
You can hear Steve Lacy’s music in the new Spider-Man movie. Charli’s already on her fourth film collaboration in the last year. But both of them are still at their best on wax. These pop records are flawed, yet incredibly fun.
Lacy’s Oh yeah? has some lyrical clunkers and is certainly top-heavy. But the top is among the best work of his career to date. The SZA collab “is it cool?” is quite possibly his catchiest song not about biting tongues. Moody slow-burners “doom” and “the feeling” do a great job dressing up the record with fuzzy guitars and orchestral synths. This might be a grower.
On Music, Fashion, Film, Charli is making ro-o-o-o-—o—o—— o- o-o-ck music. And doing it really well! The guitars are crisp and violent. The bass lines are expectedly bouncy. Considering the themes of artistic impermanence she’s studying here, Charli cleverly weaponizes tension, only letting a select few songs truly hit the Brat-style state of nirvana. Certified bangers “Card Declined” and “2007” leave meat on the bone, in a way that really serves the album’s grander vision. “Wink Wink,” however, devours you — it’s as addictive as anything this side of how I’m feeling now.
MOST LIKELY TO GET ME REALLY EXCITED ABOUT A TRIPLE BILL WITH A SICK EMO BAND LIKE ANXIOUS OR FREE THROW
Esteban Flores by Slow Joy | Halcyon Blues by CITIZEN
It’s been three years since we last heard from Ohio’s emo heroes CITIZEN. Texas pop-punker Slow Joy dropped his masterpiece debut A Joy So Slow At Times I Don’t Think It’s Coming just 14 months ago. One of these records marks a comeback. The other is an audacious display of sophomore-slump-defying guitar swinging. In both cases, an emo band (that I’ll pay good money to see every time they’re in town) is reminding listeners: “We’ve still got it.”
On Halcyon Blues, CITIZEN sounds more grounded than they’ve been in a decade. I might even be ready to call it their best record since the seminal Youth. Every song here could be a single. The “You’re no good for me, and I’m no good for you” refrain of opener “Good Fortune” is vintage CITIZEN. “Smooth Talker” is a well-executed step into sweaty, aughts-reminiscent hard rock. The title track wouldn’t sound out of place on college radio rotations. The record splits the difference between the splintering, bombastic sounds of the band’s heaviest hitters and the gentle, pop-rock textures of lead singer Mat Kerekes’ solo work. It’s that balance that makes this new collection of songs go down like lager. Never doubt these guys.
Same goes for Esteban Flores and Slow Joy, who is now shooting two-for-two in as many years. But unlike CITIZEN, Slow Joy isn’t slowing down a bit for this new project. In fact, the Coldplay-esque balladry Flores flexed on the debut is mostly gone here. Instead, this album is an uppercut as blunt as the one on its cover. From start to finish, there are crystalline guitar licks and skull-rocking hooks, broken up by two well-placed interludes. It starts strong — “SLC Punk on An SSRI” is as good of a title as it is a song. It finishes stronger, with cathartic closer “Feel It All Again” and a slick Pool Kids feature on “I Lied.”
If you like one of these albums, you’ll love the other.
MOST CAFFEINATED
RX by Rico Nasty | ULTIMATE LOVE FOREVER by Lex Walton
Speaking of comebacks, Rico Nasty is back with her most violent, visceral and colorful project in years. RX is an adrenaline prescription, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it burst of absurd bars, computerized tones and speaker-shivering bass blasts. Producer Kenneth Blume (f.k.a. Kenny Beats) is back in his bag here, and Rico absolutely glides on these instrumentals, which vary from ominous (“Runway”) to pure glitch-pop summer (“Cupcake”). Who else can give us one liners like this?
Bitch keep on biting, I Michael Vick her
I name my price, I ain’t talkin’ Fisher
Who else? Sub Pop signee Lex Walton, maybe. The New York City rocker just dropped her also-20-minute project ULTIMATE LOVE FOREVER, which features, among many mic drop moments, the line: “Some people we call martyrs, others we call police.” This album sounds like if you raised every buzzy indie band from the 2000’s on Discord servers and Cumtown snippets. It’s like Cage the Elephant, Arctic Monkeys, The Strokes and Catfish and The Bottlemen made music at hyperpop pace. It’s Dimes Square meets Meet Me In The Bathroom. Ivy Wolk shows up for a second. There’s an absolute banger called “Hipster Runoff.” This one is one of a kind.
THE INDIE-ROCK BARBENHEIMER AWARD
It Goes On by Westside Cowboy | Rhinestone Cowgirl by Ok Cowgirl
Indie rock bands called Westside Cowboy and Ok Cowgirl both released records on August 21. Both feel big and expansive. Each band takes a major sonic step from their previous work — in Ok Cowgirl’s case, one of my favorite albums of 2024; for Westside Cowboy, one of my favorite EP’s of 2026. They make a hell of a doubleheader, but are, in fact, very different.
Ok Cowgirl will be up your alley if you love artists like Ratboys, Wild Pink and Girlpuppy. This is a Brooklyn band who recorded their album with Alex Farrar in Asheville — and you can tell. This 12-pack of yearning, catchy indie-pop bangers has a little bit of twang and a whole lot of gut-busting guitar. Rhinestone Cowgirl doesn’t have a moment quite as explosive as “Larry David” from their debut, but the band thrives here in moments of stretched-out tension. It’s no coincidence the three standouts of the record are the three longest songs: lead single “God Made A Farmer,” outro “Suspended Disbelief” and the title track.
Westside Cowboy, on the other hand, is the next big thing in England’s post-rock-adjacent windmill scene. This is the hotbed that brought us acts like Black Country, New Road, Shame and — tangentially — Geese. But no band from that scene has ridden the line between eccentricity and pop appeal quite as smoothly as this one. There are bits of twee, slacker-rock and classic folk influence. The songwriting is arresting and the composition even moreso. With a barrage of bouncy instruments, relentless quiet-loud-quiet dynamics and lush male-female vocal harmonies, Westside Cowboy is more Los Campesinos! than Black Midi. Songs like “Worried Age,” “Coyote” and “Paperchains” are instant indie classics. It Goes On is filling the Porridge Radio-sized hole in my anthemic rock heart, and it’s already a contender for one of my favorite records of 2026.
THE GLEN CAMPBELL AWARD (FOR FOLK ROCKERS WHO EXCEL BEHIND THE SCENES AND BEHIND THE MIC)
Only Love Songs by Kevin Copeland | St. Catherine Street by James Eichman
I turned 25 in April and everybody joked about my frontal lobe finally being developed. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Nobody told me your body starts falling apart. What the fuck is up with that? My back hurts, my hearing sucks, my liver is fighting me. I didn’t sign up for this shit!
The one thing that lessens the blow? Kevin Copeland’s Only Love Songs came out right in time for my existential crisis. Copeland is a Vermont native with credits on recent records by Lily Seabird, Allegra Krieger, Hannah Frances and more. His solo debut starts with the getting-older anthem “My Body Is Trying To Keep Me Down Again.” A little on the nose, but it gets me out of bed in the morning. The chaser is “All Over Now,” a Susto-ish country rocker about getting better and healthier and loving the process. Sonically, it feels like Elliott Smith going heartland rock. Brilliant storytelling abounds on songs like “Trains and Angels,” “Hotel Bar” and “Ohio.” This has been one of my most-spun records as of late, and my body is thanking me.
Something must have been in the air this summer, because across the country in Nashville, another folk-rocker with a song credits rapsheet put out a solo debut. You may have heard James Eichman’s guitar on songs by Annie DiRusso, Hannah Cole or meteoric LA singer Emma Ogier. But he’s just as impressive doing his own thing. His debut St. Catherine Street is a study of place, specifically the city of Natchez, Mississippi, where Eichman spent much of his childhood. His voice is a little reminiscent of Pinegrove’s Evan Stephens Hall. And like Pinegrove, he occasionally lets a track rip, too. Opener “If I Talk Loud Enough” and B-side “Rolling Summer Thunder” offer some needed levity. But mostly, the album is gorgeous and gentle, with feathery ballads like “4am” and “Daisy” feeling like a sunlit hug.
BEST SUMMER GUITAR TONES
Blowin’ Up by Kiwi Jr. | Mount Zero by Swapmeet
Sometimes you just need some good old-fashioned, sunshine-soaked indie rock and roll. These two will do it for you.
The new Kiwi Jr. record is perfectly energetic, with an undercurrent of hope and humor all throughout. It’s got all the things I loved most about 2022’s Chopper — the varyingly hilarious and biting lyrics, the jangly guitars, the summer-ready keys. The title track is a carnival ride, and six-minute B-side “Caught in The Wild” is in the running for this year’s best indie slow jam. Small-town ode “Photos of The Reenactment” features my favorite lyric on the record:
I say nothing good ever happens after midnight
You say nothing good ever happens here at all
No nation brings us more summer rock heaters than Australia. And their latest export is the great Swapmeet, a band that blends ‘90s alternative influences and noise-pop in a way that feels like pure ecstasy. Their debut Mount Zero is a must-listen for fans of Alvvays or The Beths. The A-side, especially, is all hits, no misses. “I Know!” has pulsing, face-melting layers upon layers of guitars and vocal harmonies. The title track and “Bonny” have an almost sedative feeling to them, with vocalists Venus O’Broin and Jack Medlyn lulling you into picnic bliss. The B-side is no slouch either, with the breakup duet “Personal (Don’t Take It)” an album highlight.
MOST LIKELY TO DO IT AGAIN
Still Coming Down by Wild Pink | Big World by Hovvdy
The new albums by Wild Pink and Hovvdy are great. Surprise, surprise! Two bands that never miss are still doing their thing!
Wild Pink’s Still Coming Down has the most vile, non-Vile guitar licks of 2026. Each track feels filled to the brim with noises that spill from the ceiling. Most of all, John Ross reminds you he’s still one of America’s best songwriters. Across the record, he strings together references to not one, not two, but three different political assassinations in a way that feels almost journalistic. “Like Water” features the lyrical cure to male loneliness: “Like Billy Beane before the streak, I can’t tell yet what is working.” “500 is the new 250” is one of the year’s best political anthems, precisely because it zeroes in on the micro instead of the macro.
How much will $50 bucks fill?
I’d say it gets me half way
Took the cyber truck
To my favorite bar ‘Hard Luck’
To bet on my phone and drink alone
Hovvdy’s still got it, too. The newest LP might just be my new favorite in their catalogue, surpassing their bedroom folk classic True Love and 2024’s self-titled. The Austin alt-country duo seems to be having more fun than ever on this one. There are hot air balloons under their voices, drifting with the kind of freedom that only comes with having nothing left to prove. The 1-2-3 punch of “Way Down,” “JJ” and “What I Had” right out of the gate is an absolute blast, each song a bouncy earworm. “Try Try Try” dabbles in jangle-pop and closer “Wannabe” gets louder than most songs in their discography. There’s no other way to describe this album than endearing. This is the record you bring home to meet the parents. This is the record that reminds you, without even a hint of irony: “Love is just a feeling ‘til you give it away.”
VALEDICTORIAN
Lost Weekend by Phoebe Bridgers
I’ve spent the last six years wondering what Phoebe Bridgers III would sound like. As someone who counts Punisher among my favorite records of all-time, the bar was impossible to reach. I was, honestly, prepared for disappointment. How could hopes this high be met?
When lead single “Lost Boys” came out, I was satisfied but mostly indifferent. Then the credits lists started leaking. Conor Oberst, Cameron Winter, Alex G, Julien Baker, Nate Walcott, Mike Mogis, Lucy Dacus, Bo Burnham, Jack Antonoff, Mike Kinsella, Damien Jurado and Christian Lee Hutson? Surely, that’s too many cooks. The reviews piled in on release week. Five stars, five stars, five stars. Pitchfork called it her “most cohesive” album yet and I scoffed — how would that even be possible?
Welp. They were right. The cooks cooked. And “Lost Boys” sounds even better in sequence. I was wrong to hedge any of my bets. On Lost Weekend, Bridgers once again asserts herself as a generational songwriter.
It takes a surgeon’s hand and a detective’s eye to thread the needle between this record’s themes of parental grief, old love, new love, fame and friendship. But Phoebe does it with grace. It’s a record that moves roughly chronologically through Bridgers’ life post-Punisher, a “previously on” episode for us sad 20- and 30-somethings who hold her universe so dearly.
With her signature candor and wit, Phoebe confronts the equally alarming and electrifying feelings of falling in love. She drives an icepick through you with songs about her relationship with her late father. “The Governor’s Waltz” concludes with an incisive, Kendrick-tier diss that manages to still emanate hope. There are lyrical references to David Foster Wallace and Sun Kil Moon. There are even two sonic callbacks to Punisher track “Graceland Too,” a song about knowing someone via their hometown. It finds repurposed meaning on “Liberty Tree,” a track about Phoebe’s beaux (Bo?). Seeming sister tracks “Kill Me” and “I Can’t Wait,” both of which are cut short by an abrupt finish, are my personal favorites. But that’s subject to change.
I’ll let you know when I write the Album of The Year list in December.
This album will be there. And damn me for being even a little bit surprised.