Mars is heating up your home and heart matters, and you’ve invented a whole new word for getting railed. Again. House breaks into drum & bass. Ballads explode into dubstep. You’re not dancing. You’re morphing. Then she sings “I don’t know your star sign and I don’t care,” You go UNHhhh. Aries doesn’t need compatibility. Aries is the compatibility. 

horsegiirL enters your Taurus placements in glitter and gallop. Venus may have exited your sign, but she’s lighting up your communication sector. Your power: in being both ridiculous and right. Berlin barn rave energy. Hardstyle that neighs: “I like diamonds and big checks”. You are the materiaL hor$e. Remember: taste is fake. You have it anyway. 

Mercury is direct all through Q2, helping you stay sharp and social. Save the tech glitches for later. Your power is in duality. You need the rush of “QQQQ” and the end-of-the-world Spanish whispers. “I’d love to save you, but I’ve got to save myself first.” The text you never sent during Jupiter’s last transit but you still mean it.

Mercury is full speed ahead – time to clear up miscommunications and move forward with confidence. You’ve traded your vintage guitar. Your power: controlled unraveling. Sharon & Co dumped Americana for Euro sad-goth. And it fits like a tailored mullet. It’s deep in mood and texture, but still Cancer in its ache: asking questions that will never be answered.

The Sun is in your pleasure house, energising your social and career zones now. You’ve trademarked your blue wig. Your power: in joyful disruption. Moonchild’s bass-slapped, sex-forward pop stands for paid invoices and post-orgasm selfies.“Gwara Gwara” is leg day and should under no circumstances be skipped. Strap on your wireless mic, ditch your backup plan.

Mercury is in your dad-issues house – a time to reflect on roots and responsibilities. You’re making cushy pop on a French beach. Your power: in symmetrical sadness. François turns grief into geometry. Melodies sigh like well-organised exhales. Clocks tick. Saxophones weep, politely. Everything is elegant but drowning. Âge Fleuve is melancholia for those who alphabetise their tissues. Virgo’s trauma is tasteful, and this album understands that.

Venus is direct and gracing your fellow air signs – romance and creativity flow freely this quarter. You’ve swapped out Berghain for a sweaty basement in Hackney Wick. Your power: in knowing you’re right where you should be. It’s euphoria with mascara running—but maybe bring a bottle of water this time. Rose Gray will have you waving around your sweaty palms at the highest point of the night, until she goes all soft and you’re down on your knees (where you belong). Next thing you’re being slapped awake by a raver screaming, “Why are you crying? The bass hasn’t even dropped yet!”
Why, indeed.

Pluto’s deep dive into Aquarius is stirring subconscious transformations – embrace introspection. You’re sending voice notes in code. Your power: in sacred subtext and unsent drafts. Oklou builds digital crypts in a haunting voice. Her ghost-pop chokes rhymes like incantations, imagining spaces for feelings she never names directly. It’s more field recording than confession, where emotion and atmosphere trade verses.  

Jupiter in Gemini is expanding your partnerships and boosting your linguistic charm – speak your mind (with flair). Your power: in cryptic transmissions and semi-conscious truths. John Glacier wraps hard truths in static and sarcasm. Her bars drift like she recorded them in a dream she forgot upon waking. Guitar fuzz. Broken beats that don’t land where they should. You’re not meant to follow the plot —you’re meant to feel like a stranger in your own reflection.

Pluto has officially moved on – you’re now integrating the transformation of the past 15 years. You’re burning the old you to the ground — and you’re building a club on top of the ashes. Your power: in reinvention. Abracadabra, bitch. “Killah” and “Garden of Eden” go full ex-cult leader with sequins. It’s domination-coded dance floor majesty, every beat timed like an executive power play. Even the TayTay ripoff moment grows on you eventually. Read our MAYHEM review here.

Uranus is shaking up your foundations – breakthroughs and bold moves are favoured. Your revolution? Making a splash — but wrapped flugelhorns. You wanted change. But not before tea. Yukimi’s For You is smooth like steamed mirrors. “Winter Is Not Dead” sounds like Björk taking deep breaths in a zero-gravity meditation room. You’re not broadcasting right now. You’re buffering. And that’s okay. Aquarius isn’t about noise. It’s about signal.

Pluto in Aquarius is activating your subconscious and spiritual growth – a powerful time for inner alchemy. You’re crying in the club bathroom again — but this time, it’s divine. Glory is catharsis for the soft-hearted and spiritually attuned. Perfume Genius croons about death, grief, and eros. The guitars shimmer. The vocals crack like porcelain but you keep kissing anyway. Even the ugly parts glow. Especially the ugly parts.

Mars is heating up your home and heart matters, and you’ve invented a whole new word for getting railed. Again. House breaks into drum & bass. Ballads explode into dubstep. You’re not dancing. You’re morphing. Then she sings “I don’t know your star sign and I don’t care,” You go UNHhhh. Aries doesn’t need compatibility. Aries is the compatibility. 

For the wild at heart Aries we also recommend: 
Who Let the Dogs Out by Lambrini Girls — Fair question, who did? They’re loud, brash, and swinging figurative (hell, probably literal) big dicks all the way through. For when you need punk rock that isn’t afraid of pussy power.

horsegiirL enters your Taurus placements in glitter and gallop. Venus may have exited your sign, but she’s lighting up your communication sector. Your power: in being both ridiculous and right. Berlin barn rave energy. Hardstyle that neighs: “I like diamonds and big checks”. You are the materiaL hor$e. Remember: taste is fake. You have it anyway. 

For the wild at heart Taurus we also recommend: 
Warm Up by Étienne de Crécy — When French Touch remembers it’s supposed to be fun. Do: Pure pleasure, expensive jokes, committed absurdity Don’t: Ironic distance, cool posturing, taking yourself seriously

Mercury is direct all through Q2, helping you stay sharp and social. Save the tech glitches for later. Your power is in duality. You need the rush of “QQQQ” and the end-of-the-world Spanish whispers. “I’d love to save you, but I’ve got to save myself first.” The text you never sent during Jupiter’s last transit but you still mean it.

For the wild at heart Gemini we also recommend: 
Dance Therapy by Ora the Molecule — When you need to pretend Norway invented disco. Do: Double meanings, code-switching, 4AM confessions. Don’t: Picking a side, settling down, deciding who you are

Mercury is full speed ahead – time to clear up miscommunications and move forward with confidence. You’ve traded your vintage guitar. Your power: controlled unraveling. Sharon & Co dumped Americana for Euro sad-goth. And it fits like a tailored mullet. It’s deep in mood and texture, but still Cancer in its ache: asking questions that will never be answered.

For the wild at heart Cancer we also recommend: 
Tears of Injustice by Mdou Moctar — Because sometimes rebellion needs to go unplugged. Do: Dark rooms, physical release, private rituals
Don’t: Safe choices, familiar comfort, expected paths

The Sun is in your pleasure house, energising your social and career zones now. You’ve trademarked your blue wig. Your power: in joyful disruption. Moonchild’s bass-slapped, sex-forward pop stands for paid invoices and post-orgasm selfies.“Gwara Gwara” is leg day and should under no circumstances be skipped. Strap on your wireless mic, ditch your backup plan.

For the wild at heart Leo we also recommend: 
A Blade Because A Blade Is Whole by Alabaster DePlume — When you need healing but hate wellness culture. Do: Center stage, sexual power, loud joy Don’t: False modesty, careful choices, inside voices

Mercury is in your dad-issues house – a time to reflect on roots and responsibilities. You’re making cushy pop on a French beach. Your power: in symmetrical sadness. François turns grief into geometry. Melodies sigh like well-organised exhales. Clocks tick. Saxophones weep, politely. Everything is elegant but drowning. Âge Fleuve is melancholia for those who alphabetise their tissues. Virgo’s trauma is tasteful, and this album understands that.

For the wild at heart Virgo we also recommend: 
Solas by Adwaith — When even your inner library needs expert post-punk rearrangement, in Cymraeg (that’s the Welsh language, dummy). Do: Precise feelings, elegant processing, structured healing. Don’t: Raw grief, messy catharsis, emotional sprawl

Venus is direct and gracing your fellow air signs – romance and creativity flow freely this quarter. You’ve swapped out Berghain for a sweaty basement in Hackney Wick. Your power: in knowing you’re right where you should be. It’s euphoria with mascara running—but maybe bring a bottle of water this time. Rose Gray will have you waving around your sweaty palms at the highest point of the night, until she goes all soft and you’re down on your knees (where you belong). Next thing you’re being slapped awake by a raver screaming, “Why are you crying? The bass hasn’t even dropped yet!”
Why, indeed.

For the wild at heart Libra we also recommend: 
Halo on the Inside by Circuit des Yeux — For when your BPM has abandonment issues. Do: Physical pleasure, dark rooms and darkrooms.
Don’t: VIP sections, Instagram stories, fake fun

Pluto’s deep dive into Aquarius is stirring subconscious transformations – embrace introspection. You’re sending voice notes in code. Your power: in sacred subtext and unsent drafts. Oklou builds digital crypts in a haunting voice. Her ghost-pop chokes rhymes like incantations, imagining spaces for feelings she never names directly. It’s more field recording than confession, where emotion and atmosphere trade verses.  

For the wild at heart Scorpio we also recommend: 
Iucre by Dean Blunt — When you want to disappear into a more folksy version of ghost sex, but you like your tracks listed and numbered. 4 is incredible, but so is 7, and 5. Do: Hidden meanings, sacred spaces, controlled vulnerability. Don’t: Easy access, full disclosure, letting them see you cry.

Jupiter in Gemini is expanding your partnerships and boosting your linguistic charm – speak your mind (with flair). Your power: in cryptic transmissions and semi-conscious truths. John Glacier wraps hard truths in static and sarcasm. Her bars drift like she recorded them in a dream she forgot upon waking. Guitar fuzz. Broken beats that don’t land where they should. You’re not meant to follow the plot —you’re meant to feel like a stranger in your own reflection.

For the wild at heart Sagittarius we also recommend: 
Nothing by Darkside — The afterparty where time dies and therapy begins. Do: Hidden messages, night buses, private jokes. Don’t: Explaining yourself, seeking approval, staying visible.

Pluto has officially moved on – you’re now integrating the transformation of the past 15 years. You’re burning the old you to the ground — and you’re building a club on top of the ashes. Your power: in reinvention. Abracadabra, bitch. “Killah” and “Garden of Eden” go full ex-cult leader with sequins. It’s domination-coded dance floor majesty, every beat timed like an executive power play. Even the TayTay ripoff moment grows on you eventually. Read our MAYHEM review here.

For the wild at heart Capricorn we also recommend: 
11:11 by Biig Piig— When your planner fails and all that’s left is skin and pork. Do: Calculated pleasure, earned dominance, strategic vulnerability. Don’t: Impulse, submission, losing control.

Uranus is shaking up your foundations – breakthroughs and bold moves are favoured. Your revolution? Making a splash — but wrapped flugelhorns. You wanted change. But not before tea. Yukimi’s For You is smooth like steamed mirrors. “Winter Is Not Dead” sounds like Björk taking deep breaths in a zero-gravity meditation room. You’re not broadcasting right now. You’re buffering. And that’s okay. Aquarius isn’t about noise. It’s about signal.

For the wild at heart Aquarius we also recommend: 
Competition Is for Losers by Rizzle Kicks — For the soft malcontents and funky come-ups. Do: Gentle rebellion, chosen family, quiet wisdom. Don’t: Ego trips, forced edge, unnecessary drama. 

Pluto in Aquarius is activating your subconscious and spiritual growth – a powerful time for inner alchemy. You’re crying in the club bathroom again — but this time, it’s divine. Glory is catharsis for the soft-hearted and spiritually attuned. Perfume Genius croons about death, grief, and eros. The guitars shimmer. The vocals crack like porcelain but you keep kissing anyway. Even the ugly parts glow. Especially the ugly parts.

For the wild at heart Pisces we also recommend: 
Swirl by Flora Hibberd — Cinematic sadness by way of your therapist’s vinyl collection. Do: Bedroom mirrors, secret fantasies, beautiful wounds. Don’t: Easy answers, morning people, forced healing.