New Album Release Round-Up: March 2026

Every month brings more new music than anyone can reasonably keep up with—even the No Ripcord team.

Our Album Release Round-Up collects the records we didn’t cover in full but still consider worth your time. Think of it as a spiritual successor to our original Quick Takes feature. No hype, no snark, just honest reviews.

Bonnie “Prince” Billy
We Are Together Again
(No Quarter)

Since embracing his Louisville, Kentucky roots in 2019, Will Oldham has experienced a career renaissance, culminating in last year’s The Purple Bird, arguably his best album in years. We Are Together Again aims to repeat the trick, with its earnest country twang and cast of familiar collaborators, but ultimately it lives and dies by the quality of its songs—and they just aren’t consistently good enough. “They Keep Trying To Find You” and “Strange Trouble” are the exceptions, making worthy additions to any 2026 playlist, but all too often Oldham’s compositions feel pedestrian and formulaic. Tunes like the plodding “(Everybody’s Got A) Friend Named Joe” and the frankly tedious “Davey Dead” both make We Are Together Again feel much longer than it actually is. There are more than enough good-to-great Oldham records to make this one surplus to requirements for all but his absolute diehard fans. (DC)

Shabaka
Of This Earth
(Shabaka Records)

Of This Earth, like most Shabaka Hutchings albums, dating back to Sons of Kemet, requires full immersion. On his third LP, the jazz polymath takes you on a musical journey that requires both stillness and stimulation. Having leaned heavily on quiet contemplation in 2024’s Perceive Its Beauty, Acknowledge Its Grace, he instead seems to externalise his chaotic inner world. Admitting to taking a freewheeling approach, Shabaka taps into a variety of styles, ranging from ambient (“A Future Untold”) and rara music (“Call in Power”) to Hip Hop (“Space Time”). Even “Dance in Praise,” one of the highlights here, recalls the breakneck tempos of his old band. There is no genre that Shabaka cannot touch, but for such a conceptually minded artist, his commitment to changing things up for the sake of it provides scattershot results. But when considering such an accomplished songwriter, it’s fair to say that his search is our gain. (JR)

Snail Mail
Ricochet
(Matador)

Lindsey Jordan’s third record as Snail Mail is a curiously lopsided affair. Five tracks in, I was ready to dismiss it as an overly sedate retreat into bland introspection—and then, on the roaring standout “Dead End,” Ricochet suddenly, unexpectedly, catches fire. Over the course of the remaining tracks, Jordan delivers the kind of stirring indie-rock that served her so well on 2021’s Valentine, and even six years on, the calibre is still comparable. The sparkling closer “Reverie” and the excellent “Butterfly” deserve special mention, but honestly, side B is uniformly strong. The tragedy of Ricochet is that it follows such a feeble side A, which has the effect of making the whole affair feel like a greater disappointment than it actually is. (DC)

The Orielles
Only You Left
(Heavenly)

Coming into their fourth album, The Orielles have veered away from a more blithe, retro-chic sound into a more carefully crafted one. The Manchester-based trio intentionally wanted to approach Only You Left like starting over, but in many ways, their dark-toned experimental pop continues what they started to build on 2022’s Tableau. Working with producer and engineer Joel Anthony Patchett—whom they deem as their honorary fourth member of the band—they deliver a strained, yet rhythmic set that balances semi-improvisational motorik grooves (“Tears Are”) with brash, string-laced psych pop (“All in Metal”). Many of the songs here are structured around pull and restraint, mostly drifting in a calm haze before surprising you with sudden bursts of energy. The quieter moments, like on “The Woodland Has Returned,” feel more impactful than their twitchy, spastic excursions. Case in point: the In Rainbows-recalling “Wasp.” But even with their occasional misfires, The Orielles’ artful touches are easy to get lost in. (JR)

Robyn
Sexistential
(Konichiwa/Young)

Robyn’s ninth album, and her first since 2018’s Honey, sees the Swedish megastar revisiting the sonic terrain of her 2010 classic, Body Talk, while simultaneously interweaving a more sexualised element. Sexistential is urgent, direct, and strikingly concise—exactly what you’d expect from a 46 year old Swedish mum with shit to do. The aptly-titled “Dopamine” is a rush of effortless pop energy that would have fit neatly on the ageless Body Talk. “Blow My Mind” shifts things up lyrically, with Robyn urging her lover “Baby, ravish me/Tear into my flesh/Button down my shirt/Go on, make a mess.” My favourite moment comes on the title track, “Sexistential,” when Robyn recounts her IVF experience: “So I was about to go have a kid on my own/And then my doctor said, ‘Now, Robyn, who would be your dream donor?’/Well, Adam Driver always did kinda give me a boner.” That the fertility doctor subsequently mixes him up with Adam Sandler adds an even wilder flourish. Robyn remains an international pop treasure. (DC)

The New Pornographers
The Former Site Of
(Merge)

Even if the New Pornographers have specialised in writing bite-sized stories throughout their career, their infectious energy can sometimes overshadow what’s under the hood. As they settle into the end of their third decade as a unit, the Carl Newman-led band, just as they did on 2023’s Continue as Guest, continues to find new ways to tweak their sound in subtle yet meaningful ways. While there’s plenty to explore in these ten tracks, they’re often laden with bittersweet humanity. Operating with more patience and precision, they strive for ambient, synth-driven backdrops to boost their sparse song arrangements. Sometimes, as on “Pure Sticker Shock,” the emphasis on open space can drag. Let’s just say that there’s a lack of punchy anthems, but as tracks like “Votive” and “Ballad of the Last Payphone” demonstrate, the supergroup’s brand of tuneful melancholy remains intact. (JR)

Courtney Barnett
Creature of Habit
(Mom + Pop)

Writing about Courtney Barnett’s stellar debut in our Best Albums of 2015 feature (it placed #3 in a particularly strong top ten), I suggested the best was still to come. It didn’t quite work out that way. Barnett followed Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit with the unfocused Kurt Vile collaboration Lotta Sea Lice, and her momentum faded a little. Subsequent releases were uniformly strong, but in hindsight, it feels as though she deliberately veered away from the success her debut had promised. Creature of Habit features its share of Vile-esque slackerisms, too, but it’s an assured record of unexpected twists and turns that finds the now L.A.-based songwriter in fine form indeed. While it isn’t sufficiently bold to maintain Barnett’s enviable streak of 8/10 ratings here, Creature of Habit is another respectable entry in her increasingly understated and overlooked discography. (DC)

New German Cinema
Pain Will Polish Me
(Felte)

When we last heard from Fear of Men a decade ago, they took a decidedly more brooding, synth-driven direction on Fall Forever. Coming into her debut solo LP, Jessica Weiss recaptures the stark, chilly textures of that release, but framed with a romantic atmosphere. It always felt inevitable that Weiss would fully pivot into the driving beats of darkwave on a track like “I Become Heavy,” providing a narrative on love that teeters on obsession. Like her project directly implies, Weiss felt compelled to embrace the personal expression and artistic freedom of New German Cinema from a conceptual standpoint. Thankfully, she doesn’t succumb to easy labels in her stylistic choices, sticking to synth swells and programmed beats, and featuring an inspired cameo from Merchandise’s Carson Cox on “My Mistake.” Her exploration of the self in Pain Will Polish Me sometimes feels lacking, which makes the project seem somewhat drab. But it’s the small touches she adds, such as the instrumentals named after her child, Hera, that are unexpectedly poignant. (JR)