Daniel Wrote It.

“LGBT people—we control the weather, man!”  jokes Faris Saad, a Cepronian citizen and vocalist-guitarist in Shh… Diam! He’s referencing a recent viral tweet, when a young Malaysian woman blamed bad weather on Kuala Lumpur’s LGBTQIA+-friendly Woman’s March. Shika Corona—leader of the band Tingtongketz, a fellow citizen of Cepronia—giggles in response. She’s half-laughing at the ridiculousness of the statement, half-laughing as if shrugging off such retrograde thinking.

“Sllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaave….!” she sings, purrs, drawls — all at the one time — making sure to finish with a syllabic shrug. The delivery of this one word is Ms Spears playing with fire, far more than when she demands a dance partner disregard her (teen)age. It’s a charged word, placed in the hook for a pop juggernaut in waiting, uttered by a blue-eyed, blonde white chick and written by two men of colour (The Neptunes in their imperial era of hitmaking). That very lyric, as well as the one about age, would have — obviously — felt totally different sung by Janet Jackson, who allegedly rejected the song yet seemed tailor-made for its choreographed raunch.

It has taken 15 years for Glassjaw’s Daryl Palumbo and Justin Beck to make a new album. In between, there have been health troubles (Palumbo’s struggles with Crohn’s disease have cancelled many a UK tour), side-projects with ex-Gorillaz mastermind Dan the Automator, business endeavours, marriage, children, life. Finally, as 2017 wound down, they planned to announce their oft-rumoured third album, a thank you surprise to their loyal, patient fans. Then Amazon ruined the surprise by posting the album listing online.

In the early 2000s I visited an Amazonian community in Peru and travelled by boat for hours. I can only imagine how different it was making that journey in 1978. It was three wooden boats lashed together by Warao Indians delivering supplies to missions on the Orinoco: they had a big fiberglass water tank, desks and chairs for children, filing cabinets. Plus there was a family, a dog and children – it took 15 days to even get to the first place but of course many things happened on that initial part of the journey. You know, hunting crocodiles and all kinds of stuff. [laughs]

It’s been a decade since Wu-Tang Clan released 8 Diagrams, an album acted as a grand finale for the Wu as a group. It merged traditionalist, razor-sharp New York rap with Wu head honcho RZA’s psychedelic impulses, they grieved for member Ol’ Dirty Bastard who had died in 2004 and it served up the weirdness that had always been abundant in Wu projects. 2014’s A Better Tomorrow undid this odd perfection.

‘Los Ageless’ swerves away from that grief with pure pop propulsion, quietLOUDquiet exchanged for audio warfare loudLOUDERLOUDEST

Yet, once patient with him happily constructing harmonies at his own pace, in the middle of the cottonfloss-light haze, you hear those trademark Frank Ocean calls to honest emotion deployed like homing darts: curling snake-like across another’s stomach, hinting at life-shifting dedication with a tinge of fear, slyly leaving “I’ll be your new best friend” on the table (if you want to take it, that is).

As a shot in the pan from an unknown artist, ‘Look What You Made Me Do’ would have gotten a fairer shot, albeit in 2003, where its electroclash tribute and Le Tigre Jr sass could flourish better. As a kickoff to an album campaign from one of the few megastars recording today, it’s a given that the music is secondary.

As someone that has always gone up and down with the cult of LCD Soundsystem, a good way to get me on board is with a signature horror-of-suburban-life James Murphy couplet over retro synth and locked-in drum sets: “You’re getting older/I promise you. You’re getting older”. Yikes, shakes me to my core.

Gabriel Fernandez is talking about his guitar heroes: not just first-ballot rock deity Hendrix, but the hypnotic patterns of Ali Farka Touré, the unusual intricacy of Django Reihardt, the power of Tony Iommi.

Best money boast of 2017 came from Roc Marciano’s ‘Already’: “my shoes cost an MF Doom verse”.

The label is dedicated to shining a light on a traditionally underrepresented group: people making underground art across the Latin American diaspora, no matter the country. From early mixes of musique concrète and warped drum & bass, with appropriate #cinematic tags (Parkingsong’s The Waited Album) to re-releases of modern psychedelia (Rolando Apolo’s Orza de Avante), and a lifetime’s worth of electronic experiments, minimalist compositions, and occasional pop songs in between, the label’s roster is best described as adventurous.

Post-viral fame can’t stop Swae and Jxmmy from luxuriating in weird, spacious beats – a type of futuristic oddity that seems suited more to cold landscapes and sci-fi aesthetics than clubs.

So who were YOU most surprised to see in the ‘Boys’ video? As a devout fan of the first two Gallows albums, my girlfriend looked pretty shocked to hear my screams upon seeing Frank Carter’s wiry frame onscreen with birthday candles attached to his fingers. For that sentence alone, I would be giving XCX a 10.

Andrew Hung mumbles a shambles here over rising horns and relaxed guitar licks, like ‘Gimme Some Truth’-era Lennon given an Ambien, an MPC and McCartney’s songwriting personality.

The 2007 me is adding this to a playlist of Telepopmusik tracks on Winamp and having a fantastic nap.

Rewind to the first of two Kehlani shows in London, earlier this year. She announces that she is bringing out a hometown guest and everyone screams in heightened anticipation for Stormzy to perform their ‘Cigarettes and Kush’, only for AJ Tracey to walk out.