From Mauritanian pop and experimental Circassian folk to ambient electronica, spiritual jazz, electroacoustic improvisation, and intimate guitar music.

These fifteen albums share patience, attention to sonic texture, and careful listening. Together, they demonstrate that tradition, memory and experimentation remain the driving force behind the most exploratory contemporary music.

EMER feat. UGNĖ UMA – You and Me (Stroom)

A lazy, dreamlike mood, basslines, unhurriedly woven beats, percussive details that don’t always come to the fore, and above all a sultry, dense atmosphere – perfect for the height of summer and revealing the many facets of bass-driven electronica, shimmering synths and mind-blowing vocals. Emer and Ugnė Uma are from Vilnius, but their paths crossed somewhere between Berlin and Brussels. Together, they’ve created one of the best albums of 2026 – impressionistic, minimalist, focused on detail and meticulously produced. Emer skilfully balances languid beats, dreamy synths, and sonic embellishments, often blurred by reverb. Ugnė Uma works wonders with her voice – she leads the listener by the ear, sounding ethereal at times and, at others, distorted, fairy-tale-like and phantasmagorical.

MATT GOLD & DUSTIN LAURENZI – Devotional Fade (We Jazz)

Everything flows here at a leisurely pace. The music unfolds slowly, and the recurring motifs (especially the superb title track) are mesmerising and gradually draw you in. Dustin Laurenzi, on tenor saxophone and clarinet, plays sparse lines, enhancing them with reverb, which lends them an almost sacred quality, emphasised by the bass and synthesisers. Matt Gold complements the whole with percussion and beats, opening up space for dialogue and a shared trance. However, the music is not based on a simple division of instruments into melodic and rhythmic parts. Although it often takes on distinctly pulsating forms, the artists constantly explore each other’s possibilities, allowing themselves breathing space and creating a subtle, lyrical whole. Jazz remains an important point of reference here, but never becomes a constraint. The result is free-flowing, ephemeral and exceptionally compelling.

TADEUSZ CIEŚLAK – Sonostoria (Fundacja Badania Możliwości)

I’d associated Tadeusz Cieślak with the Teo Olter Quintet, Adamant, Brutah and Sekta Denta. Now he has decided to release a solo album, recorded in the synagogue in Lesko. This spacious interior carries sound for a long time, and Cieślak deliberately uses its properties, stepping inside with tenor saxophone, bass clarinet, and transverse flute. He plays carefully crafted, evolving motifs – sometimes cutting them off abruptly, at other times allowing them to linger in the air. It reminds me of recordings by Lea Bertucci or Mazen Kerbaj made in concrete spaces. It’s just thirty minutes long, yet the material remains remarkably varied, as can be heard, for instance, in the juxtaposition of the consecutive tracks ‘Pasy’ and ‘Niflheim’ – in the former, the instrument screeches piercingly; in the latter, it soars majestically amidst the reverberation.

SOFIE BIRCH – Bivabippabualukka (Stroom)

Was I surprised when I put on Sofie Birch’s new album? Yes! Was I delighted? You bet! The artist, previously associated primarily with hypnotic, warm, though somewhat outsider ambient electronica, has taken a detour and, together with her brother, recorded an album inspired by bossa nova – in a warm, electronic and slightly Scandinavian perspective. It’s music reminiscent of a journey through a lush jungle of sounds. It features numerous guest musicians playing saxophone, transverse flute, harp, trumpet, and many other instruments, as well as field recordings, whispers, and rustles. The album brims with childlike joy; at times it resembles a radio play, at others a small orchestra. It reminds me of soundtracks from my childhood – full of naivety and openness, yet at the same time erudite and surprisingly mature.

MACIEJ FORREITER – Do Less (self-released)

I once told Maciej Forreiter that I’m not particularly fond of the guitar in jazz, and I stand by that statement. However, if I were to change my mind, it would be partly thanks to his work. I like what he does with the instrument in Sneaky Jesus – on his solo album he leans towards easy listening, but he does so delightfully. The title perfectly captures his philosophy, though in practice there’s quite a lot going on here. The guitarist loops successive phrases, patiently layering them and conjuring up warm-sounding landscapes from simple gestures. The result is a series of instrumental pieces, somewhat reminiscent of the work of Jeff Parker and Sam Gendel. Do Less remains music that is both unpretentious and lyrical, full of inventive details and subtle touches (though there are longer pieces, such as ‘ain’t no love in the countryside’ or the reinterpretation of Coltrane).

KIRI RA! – nen (We Jazz)

A Scandinavian summit – Kiri Ra! comprises Laura Naukkarinen (Lau Nau), Linda Fredriksson and the Swedish pianist Matti Bye. The result is music that blends their respective worlds into impressionistic improvisation, at times reminding me of The Necks. The musicians constantly swap roles, pick up on each other’s ideas and engage in a quiet dialogue. The rich array of instruments – saxophones, upright piano, Wurlitzer, modular synthesiser, cello, balafon and vibraphone – is employed with great discipline, which is why it never feels overwhelming. Sometimes a single motif is enough; at other times, a single phrase carries the entire composition for several minutes. The greatest strength of this album, however, lies in its attentiveness – it is rare to come across musicians who listen to one another with such patience.

COLUMBIA ICEFIELD – A Silence Opens (Out of Your Head)

Although the third album by the band founded by Nate Wooley (I wrote about the first one here) is overshadowed by a sense of mourning – the tracks are based on compositions by Ron Miles, and Susan Alcorn also took part in the recordings; both have since passed away – it is, at the same time, the project’s most intense and spirited instalment. The arrival of Ava Mendoza in place of Mary Halvorson clearly shifts the focus of this music, though the rest of the line-up remains equally important: Wooley’s resonant trumpet, Susan Alcorn’s expansive pedal steel and the driving percussion. All these elements intertwine in the record, a work that brings the band’s seven-year history to a close. This is not about a spectacular finale, but a mature summary of their shared journey – full of imagination, mutual trust and a rare ability to listen to one another.

MAX KOHYT / MAJA MIRO / JERZY MAZZOLL / KATARZYNA PODPORA – Okręty/Trumny (Bocian)

Initiated by Max Kohyt, this recording is dedicated to the memory of the victims of the Second World War who perished at sea. However, this is not illustrative music, nor does it refer to any specific landscape. Rather than telling a story, it gradually establishes a space of remembrance – carefully, patiently, layer by layer. This exceptional quartet of instrumentalists performs with remarkable attentiveness. Every gesture carries meaning, every sound leaves a trace, and the whole is based more on listening than on playing. The prepared piano, the electric double bass and the objects characteristic of Katarzyna Podpora – bones or fragments of wood – do not illustrate events, but slowly intensify the sense of presence. Here, improvisation does not lead to a climax – it circles around silence, constantly returning to it. As a result, the album lingers long after the final notes have faded away.

MICHAELA TURCEROVÁ – Šumum (Mappa)

Two years ago, Michaela Turcerová demonstrated just how far one can stray from the saxophone’s idiom and its traditional sound on her brilliant solo album alone et, where her instrument at times resembled percussion and constantly defied its own limitations. This time, the Slovak artist invites an entire ensemble into the reverberant space of the Brønshøj Water Tower. Initially, the wind instruments remain recognisable, but with each successive composition, the individual voices begin to blur. The seven-piece – and at times nine-piece – line-up transforms into a single organism, breathing in unison. The brass and horns do not dominate the strings, nor vice versa – the two elements slowly intermingle. This is monumental music, yet never heavy. Its strength lies in patience.

MATT EVANS – Daydream Observatory (AKP Recordings)

I first came across Matt Evans in Tigue – one of the most fascinating contemporary trios, whose Strange Paradise remains for me one of the most important releases since 2000. Later, I followed his work in the Neti Neti project with Amirtha Kidambi. The drummer has long treated his instrument not as a tool for marking out rhythm, but as a means of organising textures and movement. This sensibility permeates Daydream Observatory from the very first seconds of ‘Analemma’, where the drum kit dissolves into an electronic haze. The drums remain the backbone, but around them, synthesisers, brass instruments, and guest musicians constantly shift. At times everything slows to a near standstill (‘Dirt Fish’), whilst at others it bursts open violently (‘Stone Eater’). Evans masterfully controls this flow, which is why even the most intense moments never lose their direction.

VARIOUS ARTISTS – Shyshagh: Imaginary Circassian Underground (Ored)

I wrote about Ored Recordings and their philosophy earlier this year in The Guardian. Around 21 May – the Day of Remembrance for the Victims of the Russo-Caucasian War, marking the end of the conflict (1763–1864) – they release recordings documenting the traditional music of the Circassians. This time, however, they are taking a different direction. Shyshagh focuses on the contemporary independent scene. Cherim weaves emotional lyrics with a lo-fi folk aesthetic; Temir takes archival recordings apart and reassembles them into experimental electronic music; Zafaq channels traditional melodies through black metal energy; and Shkhafit leans towards hypnotic drone folk. This compilation shows that tradition is not a closed archive that stands still, but rather inspires, changes direction, and finds new ways to survive.

HENRY FRASER – Pneuma (Kou)

The double bass is not merely an instrument of the rhythm section; this is evident in the work of Ville Herrala, Brandon Lopez, Mike Majkowski, Luke Stewart, Wojtek Traczyk and Àlex Reviri. Henry Fraser follows a similar path. Rather than merely accompanying, he allows the double bass to take on successive roles. At times the instrument sings; at others, it becomes harsh and gruff; at still others, it almost disintegrates into resonances and hums. Fraser juxtaposes composition with improvisation, and treats silence as an equal partner. The most interesting things, however, happen between these two extremes – when a single gesture begins to expand, bounce off the soundbox and transform into something far greater than its source. A monster of possibilities. Pneuma reminds us just what an inexhaustible instrument it is.

VÁCLAV HAVELKA – A Snake Crawling Up a Broken Ladder (Animal Music)

Somewhere between James Blackshaw and Stara Rzeka, Havelka’s new album navigates dark, guitar-driven terrain, unfolding into trance-like passages or exploding violently. Guest appearances by Ben Chasny, Marisa Anderson, Thor Harris, Vojtěch Havel, Tomáš Niesner and Radwan Ghazi Moumneh do not, however, overshadow the most important aspect – a deeply personal starting point. A sudden injury three years ago brought Havelka’s life to a halt and forced him into months of convalescence. Confined to bed, he began sketching out these tracks on his iPhone. He later handed them over to his collaborators, allowing them the freedom to add further layers. Interestingly, rather than fragmenting the material, this gesture brought it together even more closely. The album feels like a single living organism, with its heart beating in one place.

CINDER WELL – A Blooming Body (Hen House Studios)

Cinder Well, the captivating, dark and alluring project by multi-instrumentalist Amelia Baker, is one I saw a year ago at Supersonic in Birmingham. She performed alone with her guitar, singing personal songs that often touched on themes of grief. ‘August’ (You should have been standing here / fingers wrapped round a can of beer / whispering gossip in my ear / you should have been standing here) resonated with the standing audience with an almost overwhelming power. I didn’t move a muscle all concert. It wasn’t a performance; it was a shared ritual. On her new album, Baker is accompanied by a dozen musicians, yet she loses none of her directness. The elaborate arrangements merely broaden the perspective without distracting from the songs. And they resonate powerfully and poignantly – fragile, melancholic, at times painful, yet always delivered with extraordinary tenderness.

YASSINE NANA – Modern Pop from Mauritania (1984–1989) (Les Disques Bongo Joe)

For years, Yassine Nana remained unknown outside Mauritania, even though his music was ahead of its time. He came from the Ahl Nana family, which played a key role in modernising Mauritanian music after the country’s independence. He blended local traditions with pop, reggae, soul, funk and new wave, boldly incorporating synthesisers and drum machines. In the 1980s, the band enjoyed immense popularity in Mauritania and toured in Morocco and the Gulf states, but was later overshadowed by the rise of raï music. Nana died in 2013, having never achieved recognition outside his homeland. Only when the French anthropologist Simon Debarbieux tracked down the original tapes did a reissue become possible. The result is a release that reminds us that music history is full of fascinating gaps waiting to be discovered.