Hello,

We’re excited to reveal the first half of our albums of the year list. Our ‘top twenty for twenty twenty four.’ Or, Overlaps 2024, if you will.

We’ve got a mix CD which features tracks from these releases, plus an end of year zine which you can pick up in the shop. All online orders come with both whilst stocks last, too. Designed by our lovely friend Musho Fernandez at Good Press just down the road.

In alphabetical order, these are the new albums that we’ve agreed should represent us this year. It’s not exhaustive and it doesn’t take anything away from all the other incredible music released in 2024. We’ll reveal the second half tomorrow. Thank you for all your support as always.

MONORAIL’S ALBUMS OF THE YEAR, PART ONE

Recorded over the course of three days in a remote farmhouse just north of Bordeaux, In Giraffe feels sort of like a souvenir from Germany’s Adventure Team. Here’s a band, initially brought together amidst Berlin’s bustling – yet perhaps tight knit – underground DIY scene, tucked away in the middle of quaint French countryside, recording a perfect package of intricate power pop fuzz that’s simple in all the good ways. There’s no denying that Adventure Team’s influences blister throughout the tracklist; there’s Big Star, there’s Teenage Fanclub, there’s, of course, Dinosaur Jr. But I suppose, when you strip the record down to its very bare bones; turn the amps down to zero and just listen…you’ll hear what Adventure Time really is: a manifesto for community, for peace, for embracing queer identity and what that can look like. For love. LT

“Ok, tell me the story but spare me the grisly detail.” Hahaha, you’ve never listened to Arab Strap, have you? Recorded with long-standing collaborator, Paul Savage in Chem 19 studios, I’m Totally Fine With It is the sound of an experimental modern rock band challenging itself and finding new ways to present. Aidan usually takes a lot of the plaudits for his unerring chronicling of a kind of central-belt human condition and he is sharp as ever on this. However, maybe time to give the guitarist some because they’re a true partnership and Malcolm’s clear-eyed guitar lines and inventiveness always makes for a new setting. I’m Totally Fine With It… is one of their greatest achievements yet, here’s to the next one. SP

The BRJ catalogue has, over the years, been a long-standing shop favourite – early in the day music, melodic, world-weary, sharp of detail and the occasional rye smile. With Iechyd Da he’s expanded things, found a way of being more 3-D which means referencing everything from Gal Costa to Euros Childs and John Cale to Tenniscoats. Everyone at some time wants to make a bigger music, to try reaching out. This is Bill reaching out, taking chances and making them come off with skill and brilliant attention to detail. Beautifully recorded and played, the self-styled underdog came through in great style with one of the year’s best. SP

Glasgow’s very own hometown heroes Camera Obscura fully embraced the pedal steel and swooning country-twinges that they’ve always flirted with on Look To The East, Look To The West. Their first record in over a decade, the group have created a lush soundscape that certainly wouldn’t feel out of place at the Grand Ole Opry (Glasgow or Nashville, if you were wondering). There’s a certain comforting quality to this record that feels a little different to anything else in the group’s untouchable discography. A beautifully paced collection of tracks (Sugar Almond in particular is a highlight) which already feel timeless; like they’ve existed north, east, south and west forever. LT

Monorail is probably Scotland’s premier heavy music shop but this secret seam rarely interacts with the world we’re normally known for. Enter Chat Pile. Chat Pile know all about sticking out. A group of misfits with a foot in metal fandom, post-hardcore, indie rock and a rich grasp on the unique horror that is modern America, Chat Pile are the real deal. Bringing to mind the great 90s Touch & Go groups you’d see sweating it out on 3 month tours of dive bars but also borrowing from the Nu Metal rhythmic innovations that were happening at the same time, they hit like Jesus Lizard with Brian Welch from Korn on guitar duties. It’s utterly slamming, dig that meaty as a hell’s barbeque rhythm section but with a vocalist who doesn’t just go gutteral or screamo, he spins out narratives in chopped up phrases that paint a picture of world decay and channel a kind of rotten rage. In short, it goes HARD but you don’t have to be Metal to get it. MK

Emily Scott you might know from her work in the Glasgow group Modern Studies but even that group’s beauty might not prepare for you the sheer ambition, prowess and world building to be found on her debut album as Chrysanths. Orchestration, or “orchestral pop music” can go either way for me. When handled this sensitively and deftly, it’s heavenly. Not shy of Scott Walker’s Fontana-era influence, Emily Scott’s aural painting on this record feels like an autumnal Lowry painting melting into Walker’s arranger Wally Stott/Angela Morley’s worldview. Everything on the record feels sumptuous, waves of sensual pleasure washing over the listener with every moment. The strings’ dance upon the piano sparkles, the aching vocal phrasing working with the linear melodies to create these threads that take the listener on a sensual journey as if into a secret garden. It’s a beautiful work, perfectly balanced and rich. MK

Every year, the “lists” often coalesce on one or two records that become “the critics’ choice.” While it’s good to be sceptical of these things, sometimes it’s just undeniable. Cindy Lee is a half-lit fantasy, a scratched memory of desire and loss peaking through a cloak of cloud woven by musician Pat Flegel. In our world increasingly rendered in high definition, Cindy Lee offers glimpses in the dark, half there, never fully knowable. Diamond Jubilee, all 2 hours of it, feels like a “Great American Novel” in music form. Vulnerable, endlessly tuneful, flecked with Flegel’s natural and sometimes audacious guitar work, layered and enticing, Diamond Jubilee arrived through the back door – a self-leaked WAV file leak online – and has utterly captivated everyone who’s come into contact. With work this deep and broad, you could really spend a whole year listening to this record and still feel like you learn something new about yourself, about the nature of people, every time you drop the needle. MK

There always seems to be a record that gets under my skin in a way that asks questions about what music is meant to do, what do I need music for? This year, it was sentiment by claire rousay. I’ve always appreciated rousay’s freewheelin’ approach to sound and music before but sentiment was a full hairs-on-the-back-of-neck emotional hammer. I could prod at the conceptual framework of the record, like how rousay’s use of vocoder over lush, slow-core structures ventriqualises some deeply personal, diaristic lyrics, erecting a wall between the artist and the emotion. But I think the reason this record was so affecting was that if you disregard all that, the songs buried under the processing bleed feelings all over the place. Focus in and the way the lyrics are twisted into new knots of pain, it’s like getting your heart punched in the sweetest way all your favourite sad music does. Sublime and heartbreaking. MK

16 years on from their last full length record, The Cure slowly began dropping hints that something new was coming. And, true to his word, Robert Smith & co. returned with a collection of tracks that sound, in my opinion, most-like-The-Cure since ‘89s Disintegration. Smith’s voice (which takes a couple of minutes to enter each track, classic Cure style) is as gorgeous and defining as ever; the driving force that leads almost 50 minutes of droney, murky, shimmering escapism. I’m sure everyone says similar in their end of year lists, but really, this one has been on constant repeat in the shop and cafe since it came out, and we’re not slowing down any time soon. After Songs Of A Lost World, we certainly hope the Cure aren’t either. A welcome breath of new air in our strange, lost world. LT

For a short while, Dancer felt like our city’s own little secret. The group, made up of Glasgow DIY mainstays (from the likes of Current Affairs and Order of the Toad), released only a few singles but gigged often at Bloc and the Old Hairdressers before their debut full length 10 Songs I Hate About You. The 10 songs in question are a sonic mash-up of melodic warmth and perfectly crafted pop songs with crunch. There’s a similarity to Life Without Buildings in Gemma’s vocal delivery and Chris’ erratic-slash-melodic guitar work, but there’s also, at times, a more chaotic and experimental storm brewing under the surface. A record which takes left turns into new territory every so often when it’s least expected; Gemma cackles, Gavin’s hi-hat taps out a new rhythm, Dancer is no longer a secret. I couldn’t be more glad. LT