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  All set to ignore this until a blend of sound pundits across the Atlantic named her their mid-year pick, I am eternally content to remain humbled and hooked by Rodrigo’s crisp songwriting and the eminence grise who makes it all memorable. His name is Nigro. But she’s no figurehead - as a songbird, she flits from soft-hearted to damnably bitter with aplomb rivalling Eilish, down-to-the-bone depth on par with Khalid, only Rodrigo’s husky growl outplays them both.  The slice-of-life details undercut the melancholy that would otherwise queer this as overblown, and they’re deployed with the kind of vocal sensitivity that makes one thing clear - this love thing, she’s really thought about how it works. See for yourself: “Got a broken ego, broken heart”, “Ain’t it funny how you ran to her the second we called it quits”, “Maybe I’m too emotional/But you’re apathy’s like a wound in salt”, “I wore makeup when we dated ‘cause I thought you’d like me more”. Envy’s fantastic. And then there’s the

  2018 was certainly a surgical summer, as said by King Push himself on the absolutely scorching The Story of Adidon, one of the best disstracks of all time aimed at resident sad boi Drake. You see, Drake heard this record and the closing track Infrared  got to him. "How can you ever right these wrongs when you don’t even write your songs?" baits Pusha T. Drake, being the reasonable young man he is, decides to bring down the hammer in the form of Duppy Freestyle.  Unfortunately for him, Pusha Thanos was unfazed and his clapback has since echoed across the Internet like a universal calamity. He revealed Drake’s child from a pornstar, compares him to his own deadbeat dad for not acknowledging said son and mocks his sick friend. As you do. At the centre of all that nonsense was this precious little record.    Produced by Kanye West during the Wyoming Sessions which brough us Kids See Ghosts  and Nasir , DAYTONA finds Pusha T destroying anyone and anything that stands in his way.

  Heaviest beats first, Lipa’s confident stroll through a parade of love letters seems skin deep on first listen. But when she’s all “Don’t start caring/About me now”, “I don’t want to live another life/This one’s pretty nice” and ditching loverboy once sex is off the table, which I guess is plausible, her spunk leaves a lot to admire. Necessarily PG, every track slots effortlessly into its 3 minute groove, sporting some hooky touch to remember it by: there’s the peppery chords of the title track, the breathless falsetto of “Don’t Start Now”, to the chintzy verve of “Levitating” and it keeps going, tied together by the yawning intensity of her soprano. The Lily Allen pastiche is a benison, so when it’s followed by an on-the-nose misandric potshot it’s a bit of a cheat. And it’s less to her credit said potshot happens to be the closer. Still, a producer's paradise, with ascendant hooks and a thrush who knows how to make it sound significant. Dua Lipa, Future Nostalgia ; 4/5