The Top 30 ALBUMS of 2024: Part One (#21--30)...

 

An interesting year in album releases but it is a year that, no doubt, sets up next year rather tantalizingly. Here are my picks:

21. Vincent Staples DARK TIMES: 

Staples’ monotone voice used to dilute his more intense songs, but now he just sounds tired of having to read everything and everyone for an angle. After mapping out hip-hop toxicity over EDM and techno beats (made specifically for sync licensing) on Big Fish Theory and memorializing the California of his youth on his 2021 self-titled album and Ramona Park, who wouldn’t be? His insouciance still leads to great stories and affirmations of Black resilience, but what once registered as body blows now lands like a firm but loving grasp on the shoulder from an older relative.  (PITCHFORK)

 

22. Cindy Lee DIAMOND JUBILEE…: 

put aside, if you can, the anti-hype cycle around this extraordinary double album — the mysterious release as an unmarked YouTube link, the wild praise that followed from fans and critics hungry for anything that resembles a true underground phenomenon. What you’re left with is two hours of mind-melting low-fi gold, deftly interwoven with threads of psychedelia, funk, garage rock, torch songs, and AM melodies. Unfolding slowly with its own dream logic, Diamond Jubilee is a gem worth getting dazzled by. (ROLLING STONE)

 

23. Friko WHERE WE’VE BEEN…: 

despite its bullish title, Where we’ve been doesn’t scan as a monolithic statement of purpose, but rather a presumptive greatest-hits compilation. It’s no slight to say that it could be just as enjoyable on shuffle; nearly every song feels designed to either begin or end a live set, whether at SXSW, Schubas, or even Bonnaroo. Only the finale, “Cardinal,” is locked into sequence as an acoustic comedown. Friko’s songs open grandly and gather intensity all the way through their equally grand closings; these aren’t just anthems in the abstract sense, they’re theme songs. (PITCHFORK)

 

24. Schoolboy Q BLUE LIPS: 

returns to the dynamic stylings of the L.A. rapper’s 2016 highlight, Blank Face, albeit with a few important twists. For every confessional moment like “Cooties,” there are three or four teeth-baring mashers like “Pop,” where he flexes alongside an animated Rico Nasty. The way his oscillating raps contrast with the LP’s frequently dreamlike production makes Blue Lips feel like an inebriated haze. Years into his run, ScHoolboy Q’s personality remains compellingly out of focus.  (TIME)

 

25. Lupe Fiasco SAMURAI: 

the album is conspicuously breezy. Lupe’s singing voice, a staple of his style as far back as The Cool, has only grown more pliable: See the way he moves between cadences and harmonies on the hook and verses of “Palaces,” each smartly shaped and carefully rendered. Elsewhere he flits, without apparent effort, between other modes of technical wizardry, like the staccato syllable latticework that dresses up pedestrian writing on the second verse of “No. 1 Headband” or the passage on “Mumble Rap” that begins with the line, “With a style similar to riding around looking for an arrest to resist.” It feels as if there’s some great, centrifugal force pushing down on the middle of each bar. (PITCHFORK)

 

26. Blu & Shafiq Husayn OUT OF THE BLUE: 

Blu has such a maddening work ethics that it’s hard to pinpoint where his steely direction will really have its greatest impact  within any given year but here he manages to pare well and the proof is it the understated results.

 

27. Jean Dawson GLIMMER OF GOD: 

 this album is very different for Jean, and that is made clear right on the opening track, "Darlin", which is a beautiful, smooth, nocturnal combination of indie and alternative RnB. It feels like what you would get if you made a print song that would somehow work in a playlist of tracks from The National with a bit of Awaken My Love, Childish Gambino mixed in there, too, if that makes any sense. I know it doesn't, but the track still brings a stellar vocal performance from Jean, where he's singing in this very pained expressive inflection. Nothing nearly as brash or punky as what you might have heard on Chaos Now or Pixel Bath. And lyrically, the track is just a beautiful statement on love and devotion, just a well-written tune all around with a super-lush chorus. (THE NEEDLE DROP)

 

28. Clarence Clarity VANISHING ACT II…:  

it’s hard to approach a CC record given their maximalism and lyrical abstraction. VA2 is somewhat different to the likes of its predecessors NO:NOW and THINK:PEACE as it doesn’t have the same chaptered seamless flow and idiosyncratic internal callbacks. And it’s hard to define but, despite it feeling distinctly like a Clarence record, his experimental productions in the six years since T:P have definitely cumulated into a changed artist. (HEARFEEL)

 

29. St. Vincent ALL BORN SCREAMING: 

more primal than conceptual, and that makes it a refreshing change-up among St. Vincent albums. It’s a a dark record but not a bleak one. Even as Annie Clark’s lyrics tend to dwell in the space between connection and contempt, desire and disgust, the music never feels gloomy or defeated. Clark self-produced for the first time in her career (working with friends on drums like Dave Grohl and the art-pop artist Cate Le Bon), and you can feel a real sense of discovery as she shifts the sonic lens. (ROLLING STONE)

 

30. Declan McKenna WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BEACH?: 

the record showcases a vulnerability that McKenna has not previously expressed in his music. Rather than singing about the mass atrocities that his government has caused, McKenna has a song completely devoted to how sometimes “Nothing Works”, singing,  “What’s the point running? Not like I’m up and coming anymore.” reiterating the sentiment with lyrics like “I try to fix myself but nothing works.” “It’s an Act” showcases feelings of life being an entire performance, both as someone who does it for a living and as just another person on this Earth, “You call it a dream when it’s hell, It’s not like me to flunk the show and tell.” (THE YALE HERALD)

THE TOP 100 SONG OF 2024 (PART FOUR)...

 

We edge closer to the big reveal!

21. Euphoria (Kendrick Lamar): 

there’s not much here that’s not been said about Drake before, but the appeal is that it’s shocking to hear jokes about Drake’s plastic surgery abs and Blackness from Kendrick’s mouth. He gets his hands dirtier than I ever thought he would. If he had bowed out like J. Cole (smart man) after Drake’s “Taylor Made Freestyle” troll job, I would have understood. But Kendrick sounds real energized throughout the song’s three phases—from channeling Ghostface’s gutting of Action Bronson by getting disrespectful over Teddy Pendergrass to busting out the Toronto accent voice work in the song’s sparkier finale. He sounds like he’s been waiting years for this moment. “I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk/I hate the way that you dress,” he raps; cliche, but it works because he sounds like he really means it. (PITCHFORK)

22. Broken Man (St. Vincent): 

listening to the song, we hear a female vocalist sing about being a “broken man”; in video we see long hair, a short skirt, a black bra, heels — trademarks of women and femme presenting people — but it all appears very business. Women in suits are incredibly hot, but for a long time now, women in the workplace and workforce have always been repressed and kept to the bottom of the pile. (MEDIUM)

23. Gift Horse (Idles): 

totally wild and rocking core freedom.

24. Nobody Knows (Killer Mike feat. Anthony Hamilton): 

Killer Mike grabs the black choir experience.

25. Classical (Vampire Weekend): 

a powerful and unsettling exploration of history, power, and the narratives we create around them. Both lyrically and musically, this track showcases the band's artistic maturity and their willingness to challenge both themselves and their listeners. (STAY FREE RADIO)

26. Bad Idea (Ravyn Lenae):

 cleverly deceptive.

27. You Slept On Me (Allie X): 

a beat even Robyn would kill for.

28. Head Rap (Saba & No I.D.): 

continuing his evolving relationship with producer No ID, Chicago rapper Saba has been taking his time rolling out their collaborative project, The Private Collection of Saba and No ID—and “head.rap” is one of the brightest tracks of the year across the board, thanks to a resounding choir of backing vocals from singers Madison McFerrin, Ogi and Jordan Ward. In the verses, Saba contemplates Black hairstyles, growing out dreadlocks and self-expression. “Searchin’ for an avenue, ways to reflect my current attitude,” he muses. Views of the world / I’m Malik to my grandma, who used to braid my hair / But I had to cut ‘em at the school / And it was Black ran, I’m just a Black man lookin’ for a good day.” No ID’s production flourishes here, too, with flutters of guitar and hand-clap percussion. “head.rap” got dropped into the world at just the perfect time. (PASTE)

29. My Golden Years (The Lemon Twigs): 

It's catchy, and cheerful and feels like a self reflection for the band, looking back at how far they've come in their career, and how the lives they're living right now will be their fondest memories in many years to come. (WHEN THE HORN BLOWS)

30. Good Luck, Babe! (Chappell Roan): 

while most vocalists scale up to a high note at the end of a lyric, the Missouri singer-songwriter begins each line of this chorus in her upper register before sliding down to deliver irony-drenched well wishes to a former lover in denial about their queerness. The verses are every bit as strong as the glistening chorus, all playful, pillowy synths and easygoing ‘80s beats as Roan coaxes and pouts, subtly flexing her vocal range and irrepressible personality. But on the spine-tingling bridge, Roan achieves a level of sublime pop perfection most singers spend years grasping at, spitting out savage disses (the institution of marriage may never recover from “you’re nothing more than his wife”) and howling “I told you sooooooo” before the song pivots to an unexpected, gorgeous bit of Paisley Park psychedelia on the outro (BILLBOARD)

31. Friend Of A Friend (The Smile): 

with strings and psychedelia added to the mix, Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood's ever-evolving side project feels as dynamic now as their day job. (THE GUARDIAN)

32. Toro (Remi Wolf): 

no one does carefree pop better.

33. So High School (Taylor Swift): 

a catchy pop track that explores the heady rush of youthful romance. While the song has strong pop elements, the rumored connection to Kelce and more sexually suggestive lyrics create a unique blend with her typical style.  The song effectively captures the giddy, playful, and at times cringeworthy feelings of early love, with Swift's delivery adding both innocence and confident allure. (STAY FREE RADIO)

34. Asha The First (Kamasi Washington): 

no one does those horn sections like Kamasi.

35. Mulholland's Dinner and Wine (Declan McKenna): 

sprinkling pop magic.

36. Death & Romance (Magdalena Bay):  

an alt-pop-meets-prog-rock anthem conveyed with all the gut-wrenching drama that the present moment demands. Proclamatory piano kicks things off, then drums bounce in with Tenenbaum’s crystalline vocals. “Are we too late? Are we too far?” she implores, a sentiment that’s crossed my mind more than once this year when thinking of our species’ existential crisis. Sometimes, though, sheer determination is all you have, and Tenenbaum’s delivery is achingly passionate as she assures us: “My hands, your hands / I’ll hold forever / No way I’ll break hold / No, not ever.” Tenenbaum and Lewin are masters of tension here, pulling back the instrumentation to just vocals, piano and washy ocean sounds on the bridge, then letting it all crash gloriously back in, swelling to create a euphoric, cathartic wave of sound. I’m not naive enough to suggest that a song could solve our problems, but the unadulterated joy contained in “Death & Romance” can give us a moment of respite and inspiration. After all, as Tenenbaum tells us: “I give and you give ’til it’s all that we have / You know nothing is fair in death and romance. (PASTE)

37. Motions (Glass Beach):

 a slow burner suffused with crunchy guitars.

38. Walk it Off (Freddie Gibbs):

 by rote now but that doesn't make it any less fascinating.

39. Alesis (Mk. Gee): 

through "Alesis," Mk. gee takes us on a journey through the emotional landscapes of disconnection, longing, and the search for authenticity. The song stands as a testament to Mk. gee's skill as a storyteller and an artist, capable of weaving complex emotional themes into music that moves and inspires. (MEDICINE BOX MAGAZINE)

40. Starburster (Fontaines D.C.): 

echoes the in-between spaces of ’90s and early ’00s alt-rock, threading Primal Scream with Big Beat, Beck and Garbage on a song that goes even harder than their rave-in-the-Matrix fashion sense. Vocalist Grian Chatten trades his evocative croon for a rapid-fire sequence of images (“I’m the pig on the Chinese calendar/I got a shadow like a .58 caliber/I wanna move like a new Salamander“), gasping for air during the chorus after what feels like one breathless verse after another. But those exaggerated inhalations are intended to replicate a very real panic attack that Chatten experienced prior to writing the album, and the claustrophobia only intensifies as the song progresses. (TREBLE)