The Agenda: JADE rewrites the solo debut rulebook, Porter Robinson cracks a smile, and Truck offers an indie stronghold

The biggest albums, the must see events and the talking points that are dominating the conversation. Our weekly preview The Agenda is here to navigate you through the noise, highlighting the things that demand your attention.

In the grand theatre of pop music, it takes something truly extraordinary to make even the most jaded critic perk up their ears. Enter JADE, formerly one-quarter-slash-one-third of the girl group juggernaut Little Mix, with a debut solo single that doesn't so much announce her arrival as blast it from a glitter cannon directly into the eardrums.

'Angel of My Dreams', dropped last New Music Friday (19th July), is the kind of song that makes you appreciate the brilliance of pop stars that dare to be - whisper it quietly - interesting. It's a track that takes the usual recipe for a post-girl-group solo debut - take one part nostalgia, add a dash of rebellion, simmer gently - and sets it on fire while cackling maniacally.

JADE - it's capital letters now, dontcha know - known to her mum and the taxman as Jade Thirlwall, first pirouetted into the public consciousness as part of Little Mix, a group that defied expectations and became one of the most successful British girl bands of all time. Formed in 2011 on The X Factor, t'Mix quickly proved they were more than just another reality TV success story. They weren't just chart-toppers; they were hitmakers in their own right, with JADE playing a significant role in their songwriting process.

Throughout Little Mix's illustrious career, JADE's fingerprints were all over some of their biggest hits. From empowering anthems like 'Salute' to the more introspective tracks like 'Secret Love Song', her songwriting chops were evident. It was clear that beneath the polished pop exterior beat the heart of a true artist, one itching to push boundaries and explore new sonic territories.

Fast forward to 2022, and Little Mix announced their hiatus, a term in the music industry that usually means 'time to explore solo ventures while keeping the group WhatsApp active, just in case'. Most pop stars in this situation might play it safe, releasing a mid-tempo ballad about growth or a dance track that sounds suspiciously like their group's greatest hits. But JADE? She had other ideas.

"I didn't want to do a safe first single," JADE declared, with all the subtlety of a peacock at a pigeon convention. "That was really important to me. I'm setting the tone of who I am as an artist on my own. I want people to hear it and be like 'what the fuck is that song?'. My worst nightmare is for someone to hear my song and go 'that's nice'."

Well, mission bloody accomplished, in the best possible way.

'Angel of My Dreams' is about as 'nice' as a rollercoaster ride through a fireworks display. It's a song that starts with a distorted sample of Sandie Shaw's 1967 hit 'Puppet on a String', careens into a Mariah Carey-esque chorus, then suddenly transforms into a 'BRAT summer' dance banger faster than you can say 'genre whiplash'. It's the musical equivalent of a five-course tasting menu where each course is from a different Michelin-starred restaurant, and the chef is having the time of their life. Or is drunk. Or both.

Using 'Puppet on a String' isn't just a clever nod to pop history; it's a statement. JADE explains, "In the beginning of our career you do think you are this puppet, but at the same time it isn't true – we wrote a lot of our songs, and we were behind a lot of what we put out there. I resented that as a statement. So it felt natural to take that and show that it can be true and untrue at the same time." It's a brilliant bit of meta-commentary, acknowledging the strings while simultaneously showing she's the one pulling them now.

The production of 'Angel of My Dreams' is a thing of beauty and innovation. JADE collaborated with a dream team of hitmakers including Steph Jones (known for Sabrina Carpenter's megahit 'Espresso'), Pablo Bowman (of Calvin Harris' 'Miracle' fame), and producer Mike Sabbath (who's worked with RAYE). It's as if JADE gathered some of the most exciting minds in pop music and said, "Right, let's make something unforgettable" - mostly because she clearly did.

The result is pop in its best possible form, run through a kaleidoscope of creativity and broadcast back to us from a future where boundaries are mere suggestions. JADE describes it as "a relentless, huge pop punch to the face", which is about as accurate as calling a supernova 'a bit bright'. The song shapeshifts with gleeful abandon, each section a new surprise. It's the equivalent of a magician pulling not just a rabbit out of a hat, but an entire petting zoo.

Lyrically, 'Angel of My Dreams' is quirky, brilliant and utterly captivating. "When the camera flashy, I act so happy," JADE offers, before launching into a nuanced exploration of the music industry that balances critique with self-awareness. "Care that I'm mad, care that I'm sad, it's so bad it's funny. Care if I cry, care if I die, you only care about money." It's the kind of lyric that - if you weren't so exhausted about The State Of Things - makes you want to start a conversation about the nature of fame and artistry, or at least leave a thoughtful comment on social media.

JADE even manages to sneak in a cheeky dig at a certain high-waisted trouser enthusiast. It's the kind of wordplay that would make Shakespeare proud, if Shakespeare had been really into pop and had a penchant for playful industry commentary. The lyrics walk a tightrope between celebration and critique of the pop world, acknowledging both the glitter and the grime.

"It's about how obsessed I am with the industry," JADE explains, "so there are lyrics like 'love when you call me a star' – but also there's the dark side that comes with that. It's not as glam as it seems." This duality is at the heart of 'Angel of My Dreams', a song that revels in pop excess while simultaneously pulling back the curtain on its artifice.

And then there's the video. Directed by Aube Perrie, known for his work with Harry Styles and Megan Thee Stallion, it's a visual wonderland. With 11 different looks and a tight storyline, it's part The Fifth Element, part Showgirls, and part Black Swan, if all those films had been directed by a committee of fashion-forward visionaries on a creative sugar high.

The video follows a rags-to-riches concept, showing various versions of JADE scrapping for the spotlight. "When I was 16, I would stand outside my local Sainsbury's and sing Christmas songs," she recalls. "It was emotional actually because for one bit I'm busking and walking past a Sainsbury's Local." Even pop superstars can start somewhere relatable.

There's even a cameo from Fontaines D.C. frontman Grian Chatten, sporting a lime green tracksuit that would make even the most flamboyant peacock nod in appreciation. It's a crossover event more unexpected than finding out your gran's a secret grime artist, and yet it works brilliantly - both acts are innovating, trying the unexpected and winning big in the process. When you think about it, it makes perfect sense.

The reaction to 'Angel of My Dreams' has been as wild as the song itself. Critics have been falling over themselves to heap praise on JADE's debut, comparing it to Harry Styles' 'Sign of the Times' in terms of its 'holy shit' factor. But perhaps the most telling reaction comes from the fans themselves. Social media has been ablaze with excitement, with reactions ranging from enthusiastic praise to delighted bewilderment, often from the same person. It's the kind of divisive reaction that often heralds the arrival of something truly new and exciting in pop.

When playing it safe is often an option, JADE's 'Angel of My Dreams' is a refreshing shot of adrenaline straight to pop music's heart. It's a reminder that pop can be weird, wild, and wonderful all at once. It's the sound of an artist not just spreading her wings, but strapping on a jetpack and blasting off into the stratosphere.

It couldn't come at a more fitting time, either, as the mainstream finds itself dripping in neon green attitude and pink pony perfection. "This dawn of pop girls giving people everything is so exciting," she enthuses. "It couldn't be better timing for my music. I'm so proud of it and I can say that with chest. The fans have waited long enough so now we just want to give it to them."

As for what's next for JADE, the possibilities seem as boundless as her creativity. If 'Angel of My Dreams' is any indication, we could be in for a wild ride through uncharted territories. One thing's for certain: it won't be boring. JADE has crafted a song that respects pop's past while fearlessly charging into its future, reminding us of the genre's power to surprise, move, and transform. In three and a bit minutes, she's delivered a manifesto for pop stars as puppet masters, playing the game free of strings while rewriting its rules, unafraid to show every facet of their complex, creative selves.

JADE has announced her solo arrival not with a whimper, but with a fuck-off-bang. And if this is just the opening act, imagine the main event for pop's new guardian angel - here to save us from the mundane and predictable. Hallelujah.

Porter Robinson, the wunderkind who once had EDM bros frothing at the mouth, has spent his career gleefully burning his own rulebook. With 'SMILE! :D', he's not so much pushed the envelope as folded it into an origami swan and set it aflame.

"Every project I've done has been a total reinvention," Robinson explains in his recent Dork cover feature, which feels like an understatement. From the neon-drenched 'Worlds' to 'Nurture'’s introspective bedroom pop, he's hopscotched across genres like a sugar-high toddler in a musical toy shop.

But 'SMILE! :D'? It's Robinson's 'Kid A' moment, if Thom Yorke had discovered hyperpop and a cache of forgotten blink-182 demos. "I guess the most surprising thing I could do now would be make something that retreads similar ground," he smirks. "But I just can't do that." Indeed, why retread when you can strap on rocket boots and blast off to Planet Bonkers?

The album's DNA was spliced during the 'Nurture' tour, with Robinson backed by a live band. "That's the spirit of 'SMILE! :D'," he enthuses. "It's maximum fun and has a real spirit of play." One imagines him in the studio, gleefully mashing synths and guitars together like a mad scientist, cackling "It's alive!" as each track springs to life.

Don't be fooled by the day-glo exterior, though. Beneath the hyperactive beats and earworm hooks lurk surprisingly vulnerable lyrics. It's as if Robinson decided to pour his heart out, then run the results through a kawaii filter and a distortion pedal.

Take 'Knock Yourself Out XD', where he declares "Bitch, I'm Taylor Swift" with all the subtlety of a neon sign in a library. "When I wrote that, I knew it was so unforgivably stupid, but there was nothing I could replace it with that conjured a stronger reaction from me," he admits. It's cringe-core elevated to high art, a musical dad joke that somehow works.

This willingness to embrace the awkward and absurd is a big part of Robinson's charm. "Being immune to cringe is such a superpower," he reflects, unknowingly proving his own point. It's allowed him to explore territories that would make lesser artists break out in hives – from noughties pop-punk to hyperpop excess.

As release day looms, Robinson's anticipation is palpable. "Some of it is so high energy and fun, but there's also something about singing vulnerable words that would usually be hard to say in a room with 10,000 other people." One imagines him bouncing on his toes, equal parts excited and terrified, like a kid on Christmas Eve who's also about to sit an exam.

'SMILE! :D' isn't just an album; it's a manifesto for unbridled creative freedom. It's Robinson urging us all to be loud, be big, be ourselves – even if that self happens to be a sentient keytar with ADHD. "Life is short," he declares, "so what am I so scared of? The time to exist is now."

And exist he does, in technicolour glory. With 'SMILE! :D', Porter Robinson hasn't just pushed boundaries – he's strapped a jetpack to them and sent them into orbit. Where he goes next is anyone's guess, but you can bet it'll be anything but boring.

Ice Spice's 'Y2K!' arrives like a time-travelling DeLorean crashing into a Bronx block party. It's a debut that manages to sound simultaneously nostalgic and cutting-edge, as if Lil' Kim and Missy Elliott's late-90s wardrobes had a baby raised on UK drill and TikTok challenges.

It's the sonic equivalent of wearing low-rise jeans with a grime MC's lyric sheet stuffed in the back pocket. The guest list reads like a who's who of hip-hop's current darlings – Travis Scott, Gunna, Central Cee – but make no mistake, this is Ice Spice's coronation. She delivers hooks sharp enough to cut glass and commentary that would make a political pundit wince, all with the nonchalant swagger of someone who knows they're about to break the internet. Again.

'Y2K!' is Ice Spice's mission statement. She's here to crash the system, reboot the game, and leave us all wondering how we ever lived without her. It's enough to make you want to dig out your old Nokia and furiously text "OMG" to all your contacts.

If coming-of-age films were an album, they'd sound like Abbie Ozard's 'everything still worries me'. Ozard's knack for turning quarter-life crises into anthems is on full display.

Standout 'Anything for you' pairs gritty bass lines with choruses so infectious they should come with a health warning.There's a disarming honesty to Ozard's lyrics that makes you want to simultaneously hug her and check your own emotional baggage. It's the musical equivalent of a friend who always knows the right thing to say, even if that thing is "yeah, we're all a bit of a mess, aren't we?"

'everything still worries me' is a reassuring whisper in the cacophony of adult life, a gentle reminder that it's okay to not have it all figured out. In a world of curated Instagram perfection, Ozard's debut feels refreshingly, gloriously human. It's enough to make you want to cancel your therapy appointment and just listen to this album on repeat instead.

Cults' 'To the Ghosts' arrives like a seance conducted by a restless spirit in a Brooklyn loft. It's an album that invites you to dance with your own spectres, as if The Ronettes had discovered shoegaze and a ouija board.

It's the sonic equivalent of finding a dusty photo album in your grandparents' attic, only to realise all the pictures are of you. The band's signature sound is present and accounted for, but there's a newfound depth here. It's as if they've taken their indie-pop roots and watered them with tears and reverb. The result is a lush, haunting landscape that strikes a delicate balance between nostalgia and forward momentum – like trying to drive into the future while constantly checking the rearview mirror.

'To the Ghosts' is a cathartic experience that lingers long after the final note fades. It cements Cults' reputation for crafting emotionally resonant soundscapes, proving they're skilled architects of feeling. You'll come for the hooks, but stay for the exorcism.

If David Lynch decided to form a post-punk collective and then strand them in the desert, the result might sound something like Crack Cloud's 'Red Mile'. It’s a genre-defying odyssey that feels like a feverish road trip through the underbelly of rock's psyche.

'Blue Kite' serves as a love letter to rock's cultural impact, delivered with all the subtlety of a Molotov cocktail through a stained-glass window. 'The Medium', meanwhile, delves into cycles of self-reflection with the intensity of a philosophy major on their third espresso.

The album blends post-punk urgency with art-rock experimentation in a way that makes you wonder if Gang of Four and Talking Heads had a lovechild raised by coyotes. It's infused with urban grit and desert mysticism, an album that demands your full attention.

‘Red Mile’ Crack Cloud at their most adventurous, crafting a record that rewards repeated listens and possibly a few therapy sessions. Approaching tit with anything less than your full faculties would be like trying to solve a Rubik's Cube while riding a unicycle – challenging, potentially enlightening, and very likely to leave you really, really fucking dizzy.

Katie Crutchfield's Waxahatchee returns to London, fresh off the success of 'Tigers Blood' - an album that cements her status as one of indie rock's most vital voices.

This show marks a triumphant new chapter for Crutchfield. "If I'm zoomed out looking at my whole catalogue, it feels like... a natural progression," she told Dork in a recent interview. Expect a setlist that weaves together the Americana-tinged introspection of 'Tigers Blood' with fan favourites from her decade-plus career. "I really want my music to be in the foreground and me to be in the background," she explained.

From the lo-fi intimacy of 'American Weekend' to the lush arrangements of 'Tigers Blood', the show promises to showcase Waxahatchee's remarkable evolution. It's a celebration of an artist hitting her stride, unafraid to explore new territory while staying true to her roots. For long-time fans and newcomers alike, this is indie rock at its most vital and vulnerable.

There's something gloriously heroic about Truck Festival. While other events chase the zeitgeist, pivot towards pop or loose their identity, this Oxfordshire institution remains a steadfast devotion to guitar music in all its glorious, jangling forms. It's a stance that's served them well for well over two decades, and judging by this year's lineup, they're confident they’re still onto a winner.

Headliners Jamie T and The Streets offer a masterclass in British storytelling, their word-heavy anthems a perfect fit for Truck's verbose, indie-loving crowd. But it's elsewhere on the bill where things get really interesting. Wet Leg, barely two years into their career and already festival veterans, bring their deadpan wit and earworm hooks to a headline slot as we wait to hear what comes after their wildly brilliant debut album. Idles, meanwhile, promise to turn the main stage into a sweaty, politically-charged mosh pit.

The Dork's Night Out stage - our own little barometer of Next Big Things - looks particularly enticing, but we would say that, wouldn’t we? Bob Vylan's incendiary mix of punk and grime feels like a much-needed shot of adrenaline to the temple, while Heartworms' gothic post-punk could provide a welcome dose of darkness amidst the summer sunshine. Personal Trainer's joyously unpredictable indie-rock and Mary in the Junkyard's dream-pop wonderlands offer lighter, but no less essential, fare.

Truck's charm has always lain in its ability to feel like a big festival in a small festival's body. Where else could you start your day with a Mr. Motivator workout, catch a set by Barry from Eastenders (yes, really), and end up pogoing to Soft Play as the sun sets over the Oxfordshire countryside? It's gloriously silly, terribly earnest, and absolutely essential. Truck remains reassuringly authentic. It's the festival equivalent of a well-worn band t-shirt – comfortable, familiar, and a badge of honour for those in the know. Long may it continue to fly the flag for guitar music in all its ragged glory.

WET LEG From Isle of Wight obscurity to indie rock royalty faster than you can say "Chaise Longue", Wet Leg's meteoric rise shows no signs of slowing. Their sardonic wit and infectious hooks have made them festival favourites, proving that sometimes all you need is a guitar, a deadpan delivery, and a song about furniture to conquer the world.

IDLES Bristol's finest return to Truck, bringing their visceral, politically-charged brand of post-punk. Expect a set that's equal parts catharsis and call-to-arms, as frontman Joe Talbot leads the band through a blistering set of tracks that tackle everything from toxic masculinity to the joys of immigration. Just don't stand too close to the pit if you value your shoes.

DECLAN MCKENNA The original Dork indie wunderkind's star continues to rise with each passing year - even though by this point we should probably start treating him as the fully grown man he’s become. His socially conscious pop and magnetic stage presence have made him a festival mainstay, and his Truck set promises to be a celebration of youth, idealism, and the power of a perfectly crafted chorus. Think of him as a one-man Glastonbury, just with better threads.

SOFT PLAY The reinvigorated duo bring their raw, garage-punk fury to Truck under a new moniker. Their high-energy performances are the stuff of legend, so prepare for a riotous, sweat-soaked celebration of noise and abandon. It's like the musical equivalent of a strongbow-fuelled night out in Chatham – chaotic, potentially dangerous, but utterly thrilling.

YARD ACT Leeds' post-punk poets serve up sardonic observations over angular grooves, creating a sound that's as danceable as it is thought-provoking. Their rapid ascent through the ranks makes their Truck appearance feel like a coronation of sorts - or it would if they weren’t about to headline their home city’s Millenium Square a few days later. Kings of the North.

BOB VYLAN This genre-defying duo blends punk aggression with grime's urgency, creating a sound that's uniquely their own. Their politically charged lyrics and explosive live shows have made them one of the most exciting acts in the UK. Their Dork Stage set promises to be a masterclass in controlled chaos.

HEARTWORMS Jojo Orme's project Heartworms brings a dark, brooding energy to the Dork Stage. With a sound that draws from post-punk, industrial, and gothic rock, their set promises to be an intense, atmospheric journey into the shadows. It's the perfect soundtrack for those moments when you realise you've forgotten to pack suncream and the festival mud is starting to feel oddly comfortable.

ENGLISH TEACHER The Leeds quartet has been steadily building buzz with their literate, angular indie rock. Their Truck appearance feels like a pivotal moment for a band having the kind of year that sets them up for the foreseeable. Expect sharp lyrics, taut rhythms, and the sense that you're witnessing something special. Because you are.

Latitude has long occupied a curious space in the UK festival landscape. It's the place where middle-class families and Guardian readers go to feel edgy for a weekend, a fact the organisers seem to have embraced with this year's lineup.

Kasabian headline alongside (the suddenly everywhere) Keane. Elsewhere, London Grammar's ethereal soundscapes and Duran Duran's 80s new wave nostalgia offer something for every demographic, from millennials reliving their uni days to mums and dads dusting off their eyeliner.

But it's elsewhere that Latitude's true character shines. CMAT and Caity Baser represent a new wave of brilliant, brash and bombastic stars, while Waxahatchee's introspective indie provides the perfect soundtrack for a lazy afternoon by the lake. The comedy lineup, featuring Jo Brand and Sara Pascoe, is strong enough to be a festival in its own right – perfect for when you need a break from all that pesky music.

Latitude's USP has always been its artistic diversity, and this year is no exception. Where else could you catch a cutting-edge dance performance, attend a literary salon, and end your night raving to Annie Mac? It's this blend of highbrow and hedonism that keeps punters coming back year after year. Just don't forget your hummus and a copy of the latest Sally Rooney novel. Now, where was our yurt?
25th-28th July, Henham Park, Suffolk, UK

"A Garden of Earthly Delights" is this year's theme at Secret Garden Party, though one suspects Hieronymus Bosch would blush at some of the scenes on offer here. This is a festival that has always prided itself on being more than just a music event, and 2024's edition looks set to continue that tradition of glorious, barely controlled chaos.

The lineup is eclectic to say the least. UNKLE's Rōnin Live show promises to be a mind-bending audio-visual spectacle, while Crystal Fighters' euphoric beats feel tailor-made for SGP's anything-goes atmosphere. But it's acts like Chinchilla and Henge that really embody the festival's spirit of discovery – names you might not recognise now, but will be bragging about seeing "before they were big" for years to come.

Of course, at SGP, the official lineup is only half the story. Impromptu performances and secret sets are par for the course, and half the fun is in stumbling upon something unexpected – be it a hidden disco, a surprise gig in a treehouse, or a philosophical debate at 4am with someone dressed as a giant squirrel. The HE.SHE.THEY. stage returns, championing inclusivity with a lineup of boundary-pushing electronic artists that'll keep you dancing long after your legs have given up.

From interactive art installations to workshops on everything from circus skills to sustainable living, SGP offers a smorgasbord of experiences. It's a place where you can start your day with a yoga session and end it howling at the moon with a group of newfound best friends. Just don't expect to remember much of it come Monday morning – and maybe don't check your bank balance for a week or two.
18th-21st July, Abbots Ripton, Cambridgeshire, UK

There's something wonderfully incongruous about watching The Killers belt out ‘Mr. Brightside’ against the backdrop of Mount Fuji. But then, Fuji Rock has always been about unexpected juxtapositions. Where else could you catch Kraftwerk's robotic theatrics, Noel Gallagher's grumpy old man swagger, and some of Japan's most exciting new acts all in one weekend?

The lineup is a globe-trotting affair that makes your post-pandemic holiday plans look positively pedestrian. Peggy Gou's pulsating techno sits alongside Remi Wolf's kaleidoscopic pop, while King Krule's brooding indie offers a stark contrast to the dramatic flair of The Last Dinner Party.

But Fuji Rock isn't just about the music. The festival's commitment to sustainability is admirable, with solar-powered stages and reusable cup systems setting an example that other events would do well to follow. And then there's the setting. The famous Dragondola – the world's longest gondola lift – offers breathtaking views of the site and beyond, a reminder that sometimes the best festival experiences happen away from the stages.

As night falls and the mountains loom large, Fuji Rock takes on an almost mystical quality. Whether you're losing yourself in Beth Gibbons' haunting vocals or dancing to Floating Points' electronic odysseys, this is a festival that offers a genuine escape from the everyday. Just remember to pack for all weather conditions – this is one festival where the elements are as much a part of the experience as the music.

Tramlines, Sheffield's urban festival turned park extravaganza, returns with a lineup that's as eclectic as the city's musical heritage. From the industrial clangs of its steelworking past to the artful indie of its present, Sheffield has always marched to its own beat – and Tramlines is the annual celebration of that maverick spirit.

Headliners Paolo Nutini, Jamie T, and Snow Patrol offer a sample menu of a certain hue of British guitar music over the last couple of decades, covering everything from blue-eyed soul to angsty indie and stadium-filling anthems. The Human League, Sheffield's own synth-pop pioneers, bring a touch of hometown glory, while Sophie Ellis-Bextor promises to turn Hillsborough Park into the world's largest kitchen disco.

The beauty of Tramlines lies in its ability to blend the familiar with the cutting edge. For every nostalgic act like The View, there's a forward-thinking artist like Yard Act or Holly Humberstone. It's a festival that respects its roots while always looking to the future – much like Sheffield itself.

Tramlines is a festival that punches well above its weight, offering a big-name lineup with a distinctly local flavour. It's the North in microcosm – unpretentious, proudly eccentric, and always up for a good time. Just don't mention Leeds.