Monthly Cache — June 2026
A monthly note from the edges of culture.Things I watched, listened to, lingered with. Not exhaustive. Just what stayed.
If there was a thread running through this month, it was this: connection, heartbreak, love, loss, change, and the quiet courage required for new beginnings.
Kylie — A Three-Part Biography
This documentary series caught me by surprise.
As a woman, as an artist, and as someone who has walked her own path through cancer, I found parts of Kylie Minogue’s story deeply moving. The series traces her evolution from soap star to global pop icon, but its real strength lies in its willingness to linger in the spaces between the headlines.
It’s glamorous, yes. Full of career highs, reinventions, and unforgettable moments. But it’s also vulnerable. A portrait of resilience, reinvention, and the cost of living a life in public.
At times it made me want to dance. At others, it broke my heart.
Ed O’Brien — Blue Morpho
One of those records that seems to reveal something new with every listen.
Blue Morpho, Ed O’Brien’s second solo album, is expansive, introspective, and quietly cathartic. Written in the aftermath of a difficult period marked by depression during the pandemic, the album balances luminous guitar textures with orchestral arrangements and subtle trip-hop influences.
There is a generosity to these songs, a willingness to sit with uncertainty without rushing toward resolution.
I’ve returned to it again and again.
Bleachers — everyone for ten minutes
Jack Antonoff’s most ambitious and unrestrained work to date.
The album folds together country, soul, gospel, shoegaze, found sounds, and unexpected production choices with a restless sense of curiosity. It’s messy in places, sprawling in others, and all the more interesting for it.
Antonoff continues his pursuit of making records that feel larger than life, albums built for open highways, late-night drives, and oversized emotions. Not every experiment lands, but the commitment to taking risks does.
Smashing Pumpkins — Zodeon at Crystal Hall
A surprising detour from the band many people think they know.
Originally recorded during the pandemic and tucked away inside the ATUM box set, Zodeon at Crystal Hall leans into warm psychedelic pop, acoustic textures, and melodies steeped in the spirit of the late 1960s.
Billy Corgan has described it as a glimpse into an alternate version of Smashing Pumpkins—the band they might have become under different circumstances.
For listeners who have always gravitated toward the softer edges of Corgan’s songwriting, it’s a rewarding and unexpectedly gentle listen.
Ibeyi — Offerings (Single)
Lisa-Kaindé and Naomi Diaz return with a song that feels both intimate and expansive.
The French-Cuban twin sisters enter a new independent chapter with Offerings, a track rooted in self-preservation, transformation, and emotional honesty.
At its core, it’s a song about stepping away from what no longer serves you. About choosing yourself after heartbreak. About understanding that sometimes healing requires release.
Tender, spiritual, and deeply felt.
Charli XCX — SS26 (Single)
A striking departure from the maximalist energy of Brat.
SS26 trades euphoria for introspection, offering something quieter, moodier, and more restrained. The song never reaches for the explosive payoff listeners might expect. Instead, it lingers in uncertainty.
That choice has divided listeners, but that’s precisely what makes it interesting. It’s a small, reflective piece that feels more concerned with atmosphere than resolution.
Lola Young — From Down Here (Single)
One of the most emotionally affecting songs I’ve heard this month.
Co-written and co-produced with James Blake, From Down Here pairs Blake’s fractured piano textures and subtle production with Young’s unmistakably raw voice.
The result is a bruised, vulnerable meditation on fame, identity, and the weight of being seen.
Heavy in places, hopeful in others.
A reminder that growth often begins at the point of surrender.
Still Lingering
Cannes Festival Films to Look Forward To
A handful of titles that continue to occupy space in my mind:
All of a Sudden — A thoughtful three-hour Parisian drama exploring chance, mortality, and an unlikely friendship between a care-home director and a terminally ill patient.
Paper Tiger — A tense crime drama following two brothers whose lives become entangled with the Russian mafia.
The Beloved — Javier Bardem stars as a celebrated filmmaker who casts his estranged daughter in his latest project, forcing old wounds to the surface.
Fjord — Set within a remote Norwegian community, this unsettling psychological drama examines family, secrecy, and cultural expectations.
Fatherland — A historical road-trip drama following author Thomas Mann and his daughter through postwar Germany in 1949.
Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma — One of Cannes’ most talked-about titles, a self-aware slasher from the director of I Saw the TV Glow.
The Loss of a Great Artist
Marjane Satrapi (1969–2026)
Marjane Satrapi possessed a rare gift: the ability to make the deeply personal feel universal.
Through Persepolis and the work that followed, she transformed graphic storytelling into a powerful vehicle for memory, identity, exile, and resistance. Her voice was singular—sharp, compassionate, politically fearless, and profoundly human.
Many artists, writers, and cartoonists have spoken about the doors she opened simply by existing and creating so unapologetically.
Her work will continue to inspire generations of storytellers.
And thankfully, it remains with us.
Monthly Cache, closed.
That’s what stayed with me this month.
Take what resonates. Leave the rest.
Until next month,
— Culture Cache

