It's been a great year for albums so without further ado, here we go:
21. Avey Tare Cows On Hour Glass Pond:
the search for intimacy and connection powers the best work of Portner’s catalog (the longing “Grass,” the anxious “Peacebone,” the lovestruck “Bluish,” among others), and on Cows on Hourglass Pond, it returns to the fore after a half-decade of sonic wandering. The record finds Portner fruitfully preoccupied with the contours of aging; whether he’s accentuating the positive (the bubbling “What’s the Goodside?”) or probing humanity’s fixation on the unattainable (“Taken Boy”), Portner’s lyrics radiate a relatable combination of wary optimism and well-earned bittersweetness without ever tipping over into the realm of sanded-off platitudes. (CONSEQUENCE OF SOUND)
22. Beck Hyperspace:
The emotional arc of Hyperspace can be exhausting, especially if it hits close to home. But for fans, it may feel more important that the record has an emotional arc at all. Beck's past few records have featured many excellent songs, but lately it's been hard to shake the feeling that he's grown more interested in engaging with music on formal terms than exploring deeper feelings. On Hyperspace, he's not hiding anything. We happen to know more about his personal life at the moment than usual, but we don't need to in order to connect. Anyone can recognize the sound of someone trying their best to pull themselves together. (NPR)
23. Bayonne Drastic Measures:
the crystalline production of Drastic Measures marks a departure from Primitives, Bayonne’s entirely self-produced and more loosely structured full-length debut. In shaping the immaculately composed album, Sellers partly drew inspiration from the sublime melodicism of 1960s symphonic pop. “I spent a lot more time thinking about the little subtleties than I ever had before, and putting more thought into the meaning behind the songs and the best way to get that across,” he says. (CITY SLANG)
24. Michael Kiwanuka Kiwanuka:
right from opener ‘You Ain’t the Problem’, when the muffled opening bars blossom out into a glorious, Supremes-style call to action, and through to the brilliant orchestration on closer ‘Light’, there is a swagger and snap about the record. It’s filmic; a widescreen set of beautiful songs that, vitally, allows deeper investigations in terms of content and sound to be carried out elsewhere. There is a feeling throughout that on this release, Kiwanuka recognises that he has the power, and all the time in the world, to get things down on tape. (THE QUIETUS)
25. Brittany Howard Jaime:
Alabama Shakes singer and guitarist Brittany Howard steps out on her own in more than one way. She sings, writes, plays guitar and drums, and produces herself (with Shakes bassists Zac Cockrell, drummer Nate Smith, and keyboardist Robert Glasper as an occasional backing band). She opens up with stories about her upbringing. “He Loves Me” speaks to experiencing faith apart from the formalities of religion, while “Georgia” recalls growing up while having same-sex crushes in the devout South. “Goat’s Head” revisits learning that people didn’t approve of her parents’ interracial union through the memory of a gruesome prank. The uniqueness of these experiences is mirrored in the music, a mélange of styles touching on funk, rock, soul, hip-hop, and synth-rock, making disparate noises feel closer together by nature of Howard’s wide-ranging tastes and powerhouse musical chops. (VULTURE)
26. Ariana Grande Thank U, Next:
as Ariana moves from strength to strength, her steadiness as an artist incorporates more diverse ideas. This is pop but there is a now cultural aspect that has kicked it. Trying to identify what has caused this can be tricky but what is clear: she's growing up into a woman right before our eyes even while retaining her mischief nature.
27. Lafawndah Ancestor Boy:
it is left to the listener to piece through these lyrical asides to find meanings of his or her own rather being led by the nose, which only makes Ancestor Boy all the more thrilling, especially when its driven by such an effective, powerful production. ‘Joseph’ is a sepulchral ballad with piercing lyrics that place romance as a panacea to the world’s ills: “Wherever you go/You will be safe in this world” Lafawndah murmurs sensually on a bed of glimmering synths. It’s a slower moment amid the raucousness of most of Ancestor Boy and a rare moment of direct meaning. ‘Ancestor Boy’ in comparison is more peculiar, a rollicking dubstep-tinged banger that looks into the past to consider the singer’s –and all of our – ancestry: “Did he come from the water?/Did he come from the sky?/Did he come from the mountains?”. Lafawndah leaves these questions hanging as the music, all pounding percussion and industrial clamour, sweeps over you like a tide. It’s the majestic highlight of an incomparable album. (THE QUIETUS)
28. The Raconteurs Help Us Stranger:
they say absence makes the heart grow fonder and that’s surely the case for The Raconteurs after being away for the past eleven years. White breaks through the gates running on the opening two tracks before settling down into some subdued blues rock that he’s at home most.
29. Marika Hackman Any Human Friend:
in Marika Hackman’s telling, life as a twenty-something in a major city means nights where you kiss strangers, consume substances, and stay up until it becomes light again. It also means nights where you stay inside of your apartment and talk to no one. This polarity is the basis of the British singer-songwriter’s third album, Any Human Friend, which is a singular, extraordinarily horny, and occasionally bleak pop record largely about the complexities of queer desire. (PITCHFORK)
30. Jay Som Anak Ko:
proves the emergence of a stylistic auteur in indie rock. There’s little apparent by way of concept, lyrical wit, and aesthetic quirk — qualities that illuminate the work of many of Duterte’s colleagues — but ambience, style, and ingenuity are well at work, making the album a vibe-y classic worth hanging onto. (TINY MIXED TAPES)
