Albums of the week: Mandy, Indiana, Daphni, Howling Bells, Beverly Glenn-Copeland, plus Fakemink

Urgh

Mandy, Indiana

(Sacred Bones)

I’ve Seen a Way, the 2023 debut from the Manchester four-piece Mandy, Indiana, was by turns abrasive and enigmatic, an at times challenging mix of EDM and industrial noise. The follow-up, recorded in Manchester and Berlin, is co-produced by Gilla Band’s Daniel Fox, and there’s certainly something of his day job to all the concussive Sturm und Drang. The frontwoman Valentine Caulfield sings mainly in her native French atop discordant, lurching rhythms of the guitarist Scott Fair, synth player Simon Catling and drummer Alex Macdougall.

There’s a greater depth to this album than the last, and the band are at their best when they let a little space into their songs, as on the dubby A Brighter Tomorrow. The brooding I’ll Ask Her starts in relatively relaxed fashion before ratcheting up the intensity: Caulfield’s lyrics, initially eye-rollingly dismissive (“boys will be boys”), become progressively darker until she’s yelling: “Yeah, your friend’s a fucking racist, but they’re all fucking crazy, man.” It’s not an easy listen, but persevere and Urgh is unexpectedly rewarding. Phil Mongredien

Butterfly

Daphni

(Jiaolong)

This is Canadian pop polymath Dan Snaith’s 12th album of a fascinating career. As Caribou, he’s made four albums of introspective folktronica and four of psychedelic dance-pop; as Daphni, another four as a DJ-producer. It isn’t always obvious where Caribou ends and Daphni begins: typically, Caribou features Snaith’s gently tremulous voice and Daphni doesn’t, which means this album’s euphoric disco single Waiting So Long is wonderfully attributed to Daphni featuring Caribou.

Butterfly is a cleverly crafted mix of pleasingly short tracks that get wild and weird when they want to. Hypnotic, nostalgic cuts such as Sad Piano House and Clap Your Hands slowly give way to ambient backroom instrumentals like Miles Smiles that keep one foot on the dancefloor and the other in a towelling slipper.

It would horrify Snaith to be considered boring: if a decade of DJing means this record is slightly less freaky and unpredictable than 2017’s fantastic Joli Mai, he still has the assurance to create music that appeals to all corners of the club. Damien Morris

Strange Life

Howling Bells

(Bear Tree)

Lost in the mid-00s guitar boom, the Australian outfit Howling Bells never quite got their dues. Their still-excellent self-titled 2006 debut was somewhat out of step: narcotic indie in awe of Tom Waits at a time when everyone else wanted to sound like the Strokes. But returning with Strange Life, their first record in 12 years, singularity is their strength. Where other 00s bands might be forever tarred with the “indie sleaze” brush, Howling Bells fit in better now than ever.

Unbroken opens the record with a dusty, desert-rock swagger, while Heavy Lifting’s loose-limbed drum patterns allow Juanita Stein’s clear yet steely vocal to do the core work: her voice isn’t showy, but it’s powerful. On Sacred Land, the group go gritty and bluesy as they sing of Australian Indigenous history. The romantic, 50s-tinged waltz of Angel wears its heart on its sleeve, while The Looking Glass fuses these two ends of the spectrum in a fuzzy, fantastical swoon.

Howling Bells aren’t so much growing up gracefully as remaining in their own era-agnostic lane. Lisa Wright

Laughter In Summer

Beverly Glenn-Copeland

(Transgressive)

Since the 2018 reissue of her 1986 new age record Keyboard Fantasies, the Canadian singer-songwriter Beverly Glenn-Copeland has been hailed as a great rediscovery. Possessing a warm vibrato that can soar to an operatic bel canto as well as pull listeners into a whispered intimacy, his voice is distinctly agile and emotive.

Glenn-Copeland is now 82 and was recently diagnosed with dementia. His latest album is likely his last. Created with his wife of nearly 20 years, Elizabeth Copeland, the record’s nine tracks comprise reworkings of his catalogue as well as new compositions. The latter are largely simple piano and vocal duets, Beverly and Elizabeth each finding intimacy in plaintive melodies and the romantic swell of cyclical piano phrases. New versions of Let Us Dance and Ever New, meanwhile, feature a choir whose harmonies anchors Glenn-Copeland’s familiar melodies.

His huskier, time-worn tone is a highlight of the record, interweaving beautifully with Copeland’s bassier vocals and unwavering over the choir’s surging sound. Much like Joni Mitchell’s rearrangements of her earlier work on the career-spanning retrospective Both Sides Now, this revisited music takes on a newfound poignancy and cements Glenn-Copeland’s legacy. Ammar Kalia

Fakemink is one of the UK’s most talked-about new rap acts. Hailing from Basildon, he already has fans in high places: Drake brought him onstage at Wireless festival; Frank Ocean posted a photo of him on Instagram; and Timothée Chalamet showed up at his sold-out first headline show in a London boxing ring.

Low-key by nature, the 21-year-old behind the act, Vincenzo Camille, has built online momentum through a string of well-received singles, while rarely performing live or giving interviews – a cool distance that has only added to his appeal.

But this success isn’t just owed to celebrity endorsement: Fakemink’s post-trap has its own compelling identity. His humour is dry; his vocals are fast and pitched high, giving his tracks a restless, hyperactive energy. Though he’s often mentioned alongside artists such as EsDeeKid and Jim Legxacy, his music is stranger and more playful than that of most peers.

The Boy Who Cried Terrified, his new seven-track EP, moves between brightness and discomfort. FML stands out for its heavier feel, sampling the south-London electronic musician Burial while digging into more personal themes. Elsewhere, Skrillex and Fimiguerrero feature on Black Jeep, and Wraith9 adds to the more subdued Blow the Speaker. Taken as a whole, the album hints at an artist still figuring things out on his journey to somewhere interesting. Georgia Evans

The Boy Who Cried Terrified is out now, with a debut studio album forthcoming; UK dates TBA

Photographs by Fabrice Bourgelle/David Titlow/Rob Loud/Wade Muir