Not even the Covid crisis could prevent artists from creating new, relevant and personal music that we needed so badly this year. Here are the best of them:
21. Grimes MISS ANTROPOCENE:
Grimes occupies an alternate timeline. Always a cyberpunk innovator, on Miss Anthropocene she envisions a different universe entirely, one where she embodies a dystopian anti-goddess of the climate crisis. (Yes, really.) But the music tells a slightly different story, in which her creative impulses—toward destruction, esoteric noise and unexpected collaboration—coalesce into a surprising, cohesive harmony. (TIME)
22. Run The Jewels RTJ4:
at this time, political-rap heroes Run the Jewels and Rage Against the Machine were supposed to be on taking a break in the middle of their co-headlining international tour, but it was postponed due to COVID-19. In the midst of economic turmoil, a pandemic and altogether uncertainty, the tragic death of Minneapolis’ George Floyd sparked nationwide protests against police violence. “Fuck it, why wait.” was the cathartic boom written in neon-pink letters that signaled RTJ4’s arrival two days early, for free, in standard Run the Jewels fashion. Both the album’s accessibility and message are intended to highlight the ongoing revolution, which is clearly a cause the duo readily supports. RTJ4 serves as a loving ode to the old school more so than on any of their other albums, with a Greg Nice and DJ Premier feature, Killer Mike’s references to 2 Live Crew on “never look back” (“Uncle Luke don’t stop, get it get it Magic City”), and a brilliantly manipulated Gang of Four sample on “the ground below.” This hodgepodge of styles and references emphasize what their music is all about. El-P’s New York roots meshed with Killer Mike’s Dirty South origins seem strange at first, but it’s their shared love of hip-hop’s history and politics that make the duo unlike anyone else. (PASTE)
23. LoveLeo LOOK AT THIS MESS I’VE MADE:
one of the new exciting musicians marching to the beat of their own drum.
24. Jay Wile BETTER TIMES:
it's hard to look beyond the Frank Ocean vocal comparison but Wile manages to use it to his benefit here as he builds confidence on all six (6) tracks the longer they spin.
25. Of Montreal UR FUN:
absent from the list for five years but here again the band rediscovers its unique brand of zaniness, sprinkling sage one-liners into infectious pop songs. It's the return to familiar issues but it's all hits here and misses.
26. Pearl Jam GIGATON:
at 57 minutes, it’s their longest album, as well as the one that took the longest to complete. You feel the weight of both durations throughout. The ballads stretch out slowly, and the uptempo numbers are derailed by meandering build-ups, like stopping for a chat while running in place mid-jog. From the curveball disco-rock of first single “Dance of the Clairvoyants”—a portal into an alternate universe where David Byrne produced the Who to soundtrack an ’80s action film—the band immediately forecasted an attempt to revitalize its sound. In context, it’s more of an outlier: a reminder of their underdog mentality, that they have some fight left in them. (PITCHFORK)
27. Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever SIDEWAYS TO NEW ITALY:
devoted not to narrative so much as six-string calisthenics, RBCF are a treat when they play from within one of the aural dust clouds they’ve stirred. On “Cameo,” Fran Keaney lays out a romantic scenario of uncommon banality (“Your voice had an old melody/Like sweet river water,” egads) whose drama gets goosed by Tom Russo and Joe White’s cross-talking electric licks. Or at the three-minute mark in “Cars in Space” when Keaney, Russo, and White pick away at discrete parts: ripple effects that rattle its foundations for the sake of testing them. And on “Sunglasses at the Wedding,” Keaney moves his fingers as if each acoustic strum births a new color trail. (PITCHFORK)
28. Laura Marling SONG FOR OUR DAUGHTER:
having a child is, in essence, an act of optimism. You're rolling the dice and betting on the arc of the moral universe, on a better world, or at least the prospect that humanity won't destroy the planet before one more generation can grow old. Laura Marling doesn't have a child — yet — but she does have that optimism. Song For Our Daughter is framed as a series of lessons for her imagined offspring, warm, intimate folk-rock meditations that acknowledge the messiness of our world while still managing to find the glimmers of beauty and hope throughout. (STEREOGUM)
29. Waxahatchee SAINT CLOUD:
critics tend to use words like "challenging" and "experimental" to talk about the kinds of albums that top year-end lists, but Saint Cloud is decisively neither of those things -- it's immediate, inviting, catchy. "I feel like I've been so wordy in the past," she told Pitchfork. "I'm trying to find ways to say a lot without using that many words." That simple approach to songwriting doesn't yield simple songs. Even now, almost nine months after I first heard it, I'm still surprised by the turns-of-phrase I'd previously missed. I'm still in awe by the way Crutchfield turns simple images into fully realized, gut-wrenching stories. (POPMATTERS)
30. Taylor Swift FOLKLORE:
with the world in lockdown, and the prospect of touring and performing any new material for the foreseeable future unlikely, Swift found herself writing songs in a completely uninhibited way for the very first time. Seeking escape - as many of us have been throughout the year - and dialling down her usual self-referential tendencies, Swift let her imagination run wild, letting just fragments of her reality mingle with the worlds and stories of characters she’d conjured up.As someone whose strength has always been vivid storytelling, she thrived in this state of reverie, weaving some of her finest heart-panging tales of love yet. To go with the stories of love triangles, American dynasties, and ricocheting tears, Swift - together with The National’s Aaron Dessner and regular collaborator Jack Antonoff - conceived a sound akin to a soft breeze that blows through the fallen leaves on a forest floor, a sound gently illuminated by candlelight and autumnal sunsets. Folky strumming and plucking nestles into the pitter-patter of a subtle electronica backdrop, putting Swift’s chronicling at front and centre like never before, and giving us a rich, textured tapestry of folklore to escape into at a time when we need it most. (THE LINE OF BEST FIT)
