Madonna – Confessions II: I remember the moment in 1998 on the NJ Turnpike when I took Ray of Light out of my CD player and had to refrain from throwing it out the window. She broke my casual fandom with one incredibly half-assed attempt at spiritual insight. Over nearly 30 years, I’ve occasionally noticed her flaccid attempts at provocation, which just remind me why I don’t care. For that reason, I can’t compare this to Confessions on a Dance Floor, but I can compare it to decades of loving house, techno, and all their offshoots. Both musically and lyrically, she captures why dance music matters. That’s good enough for me to let go of a quarter-century grudge. Let’s hear what you have to say, Madonna.
Death Cab for Cutie – I Built You a Tower: I committed to playing this at least three times and I’ve doubled that commitment. It’s a good record but nothing about it pulls me in. They stay true to their sound while pushing it in new ways, and for better or worse, Ben Gibbard explores the emotional violence around a breakup in ways that seem far outside his comfort zone. But nothing about it—no melodies or choruses, no clever words that simultaneously break and heal my heart—grabs me, and after six tries, I need to let this one go.
Cardinals – Masquerade: I let this go after two listens and it crept back in for a third, then a fourth, and now a twentieth, and it keeps getting better and better. “As I Breathe” might be my favorite song so far of 2026. This record moves me in a powerful way.
Taylor Swift – Lover: Listening to Lover, where she comes so close to breaking through to happiness, shines a light on why I dislike Showgirl so much: she’s finally found what she’s been seeking her whole life, and she doesn’t know how to make art as a happy and fulfilled adult woman. I hope she takes some time off, experiences all the magic she’s found, and finds a way to reinvent herself artistically.
Olivia Rodrigo – Live at Glastonbury (A BBC Recording): I’m probably in a minority, but the songs with Robert Smith feel like the energetic low point, even though Rodrigo’s enthusiasm is palpable. The rest of the album bursts with excitement. I’m so happy that this is where pop stands today.
Old friends who made it into rotation this week: Dijon: Baby
Record store finds this week: I finally picked up Cardinals on vinyl. A friend suggested that Gone Now is the place to start discovering Bleachers, so I picked that up as well. And my copy of Midnight Zone by Laurel Halo finally came in after months of waiting, so I’m about to dive back into the record that has unsettled me more than any other this year.