Kieran E Scott was handed a Kodak Retina with no film in it and a guitar at around ten years old, and he has been trying to make one art form do the work of the other ever since. His brother Paul took the other guitar and went on to found Pop Mechanix, one of the 1980s' iconic New Zealand indie bands. Kieran left his own brief stint alongside Jordan Luck, in the band that became Dance Exponents, for London and a photography degree. A career in editorial photography followed, telling stories about how people live. *Air and Twigs*, released under the name Agneu, is what happens when those stories finally demand a different medium.

Anyone who has stumbled out of a festival field at midnight knows the peculiar loneliness that follows. The ringing ears, the trampled grass, the sudden hush of a taxi or a kitchen: it feels like a rude betrayal by the universe. Most of us respond by putting the kettle on and lying face-down on the sofa. DEHUSSLAR MUSIC, an Auckland producer with a bin-liner's worth of appetite for chaos, responded by opening his laptop at 3am and building a rave from scratch.

Toby Lloyd has done the unfashionable thing: he has made a record about love that refuses to hide behind irony. *An Olive Tree and a Warm Breeze*, the debut album from his project Paper Mountains, arrives on 14th August 2026 as one of the most quietly ambitious pieces of songwriting to come out of Aotearoa in years — a concept record built, brick by tender brick, from the wreckage and reconstruction of Lloyd's own relationship with Wellington indie-pop artist January Blue.

Folk-rock built for optimists doesn't come along often enough, and when it does, it tends to arrive wrapped in irony, as if genuine cheerfulness were somehow embarrassing. Paul Martin refuses that particular hedge. On "A Beautiful Thing," the New Zealand songwriter commits fully to warmth, and the record is all the sturdier for it.

Once in a while a record arrives that feels less like a release and more like a confession whispered through a cracked-open door. *Rolling The Dice* belongs firmly to that rarest of categories: the one-person operation that never once sounds like a demo. Sonny Southon has done the impossible trick of making solitude sound generous.

Phil Dean has spent three decades learning how to disappear inside a song, and on "Oh My God" he finally puts that skill to proper use. This is the fourth single lifted from a forthcoming album, and it arrives glittering with mirrorball confidence, a record that treats disco not as pastiche but as a language for saying something tender out loud.

The opening bars of Molly Devine's "Yes" arrive with the kind of deliberate quietness that suggests confidence rather than timidity. Those smoky chords, blues-inflected and unhurried, establish a mood of contemplation before the song gradually reveals its true ambitions. This is music that understands the value of restraint, even as it builds toward moments of unabashed abandon.

Phil Dean's relocation from Melbourne to New Zealand's Waikato region has yielded unexpected dividends. His latest venture, The Snow Ponies, emerges fully formed with "The Long Way Home," a single that demonstrates the kind of confidence and polish typically absent from debut releases. This is no tentative first step but rather a bold stride into territory that feels both familiar and refreshingly uncharted.

Peter Haeder's latest single arrives with an unlikely pedigree—Edgar Allan Poe's poetry set to electronic dance music—but the real story here is the production itself, which reveals an artist with a sophisticated grasp of contemporary electronic composition and a willingness to push genre boundaries in genuinely interesting directions.

Tones Thorburn's True North project has swiftly established itself as one of New Zealand's most compelling musical ventures. Having launched during May's Music Week with the atmospheric "No Exit Wound"—a track that played expertly with light and shadow across both audio and visual dimensions—Thorburn now pivots dramatically with "On a Prayer with a Broken Wing," a single that positively blazes with optimism. This isn't merely a follow-up; it's a defiant reimagining of the project's possibilities, a clarion call wrapped in brass and buoyed by the kind of unshakeable groove that lodges itself in your consciousness and refuses to budge.