The Inkwell is our quarterly post where we round up the albums we hadn’t highlighted yet, but which are more than recommended stops on your musical radar.
Bill Callahan: My days of 58
There is a sort of ritualistic liturgy in brewing a morning coffee and listening to a record while your eyes are still half-open. This is one of those albums that fits that moment perfectly. At nearly 60 years old, the former Smog frontman delivers one of his most autobiographical and solid works to date. My Days of 58 serenely explores themes like fatherhood and the passage of time, using language that is unusually explicit for his career. From the opening track “Why Do Men Sing”, Callahan reflects on the creative impulse versus finitude, setting a confessional tone that guides the entire album. Musically, the record leans on a sober and elegant folk-Americana, where his unmistakable baritone voice shines amidst pedal steel and saxophone arrangements. Standout pieces like “Empathy” and the introspective “The Man I’m Supposed to Be” reinforce a minimalist yet nuanced collection. It is an ideal work for domestic stillness; an exercise in everyday wisdom that confirms Callahan as an essential narrator of maturity.
Comic Sans: Todas las cosas que nos salieron mal
It’s no less special for being expected, but Comic Sans has turned in (once again) a record where emotional vulnerability and technical precision collide with staggering force in that signature blend of midwest emo and pop punk. In Todas las cosas que nos salieron mal, the quartet from San Sebastián maintains their sound through a much more polished and expansive production, where interlocking guitars remain the stars of the show, combined with pop melodies driven by lyrics that traverse the “greatest hits” of youthful mistakes. “Cosas que salen mal”, “He descubierto mi silla favorita”, and “Gasolina mutante” stand out in a work that doesn’t just settle for dissecting failure, but transforms it into anthems of collective catharsis—complex in structure, yet straight to the heart.
Converge: Love Is Not Enough
Seven years after their last assault, Converge returns with their thirteenth album, Love Is Not Enough. In a genre often stifled by digital productions, Kurt Ballou’s band opts for an organic and raw sound, reclaiming the essence of authentic metalcore. The record is a breath of fresh air that moves away from the artificial to focus on the direct punch of their instruments. The album expands its mathcore DNA toward thrash and grindcore on tracks like “Bad Faith” or “To Feel Something”, though it reaches its emotional zenith in the dense sludge of pieces like “We Were Never the Same”. In barely half an hour, Converge delivers a concise and abrasive work that confirms their status. It’s a victory for the genre: a “proper pummelling” that proves their capacity to innovate and strike hard remains intact.
Gildaa: Gildaa
The debut album from French-Brazilian artist Gildaa has not gone unnoticed. It’s a fusion of French chanson, funk, jazz, and R&B, interweaving songs in French, English, and Portuguese. At times traditional, at others more avant-garde, her more electronic tracks recall a young Björk, as evidenced in “Utopiste” or “Perséphone.”
Gladie: No Need To Be Lonely
There can be no spring without its great power pop record. In this case, Augusta Koch (Cayetana) as leader and Jeff Rosenstock (icon) as producer give us a tightly packed album where, in 38 minutes, things never stop happening—and all of them are thrilling. The work mostly moves through an indie rock landscape that alternates between whispers and euphoric guitar explosions, featuring themes and lyrics well above the usual average, tackling modern anxieties, human connection, sobriety, and maturity. I’d highlight a few tracks, but it would end up being the entire tracklist. I think I’ll just put it on again.
Mandy, Indiana: URGH
The Franco-Mancunian quartet delivers a second album that’s difficult to classify. Arty, noisy, and above all challenging on repeated listens. A collection of songs whose foundations are anchored in post-punk, rave music, dance-rock, or even free jazz, yet where the weight of the industrial and noise layers distorts conventional structures. A raw and violent work that rewards the listener—if they make it out alive—with a unique experience.
Mitski: Nothing’s About to Happen to Me
Both in the country waltz “In A Lake,” which opens the album, and in the steady, signature indie-rock pulse of “Where Is My Phone?” as well as in mid-tempo tracks like “Instead of Here,” Mitski’s soothing voice shines, accompanied by delicate instrumentation that gives the songs enough space to breathe on their own. An ideal album to welcome spring.
Neurosis: An Undying Love for a Burning World
The surprise of the year. As if a post-metal “wish-granting machine” existed, this album seems to have been manifested by the collective will of Neurosis and Isis fans. It grants Neurosis the dignified closure that their recent works and the infamous history of Scott Kelly had stripped away, while simultaneously rescuing the spirit of a band like Isis, who disbanded feeling they had nothing left to offer but left a massive void in the scene. In this 2026, the addition of Aaron Turner to Neurosis is not just an unexpected return that materialized without prior announcement, but a spark of hope that rejuvenates a lineup that seemed to have lost its way after less inspired records like Honor Found in Decay or Fires Within Fires. Turner’s presence is far from merely symbolic; he is fully integrated into the group’s unmistakable sound, contributing riffs and melodies that evoke the best of Celestial or Oceanic and restoring a vitality they haven’t shown since classics like A Sun That Never Sets or Times of Grace. With the return of Dave Edwardson’s fierce vocals and a Steve Von Till at his absolute peak, the album feels like a spiritual experience and an emotional cleansing after years of adversity, consolidating itself as a new pillar in their discography that marks a definitive before-and-after in the history of the genre.
Surfbort: Reality Star
The Brooklyn band led by Dani Miller has released their third LP this 2026. True to their carefree pop-punk, Reality Star represents their filthiest and most party-ready version, as seen in “Hot Chicks Cold Beer” or “Peaches and Cream,” yet without sidelining their more socially conscious side on tracks like “Rebel” or “Notorious Brat.” 14 songs that fly by at full speed in just 30 minutes.