{"id":1254001,"date":"2019-12-10T14:00:00","date_gmt":"2019-12-10T11:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/?p=1254001"},"modified":"2019-12-10T14:00:00","modified_gmt":"2019-12-10T11:00:00","slug":"the-50-best-albums-of-2019","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/?p=1254001","title":{"rendered":"The 50 Best Albums of 2019"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Lists & Guides<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The 50 Best Albums of 2019<\/h1>\n
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The artists who ruled the year, starring FKA twigs, Bon Iver, Kim Gordon, DaBaby, and more<\/div>\n
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By <\/span>Pitchfork<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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Illustration by Drew Litowitz. Images via Getty Images.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/header>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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In a hyperspeed world, it is increasingly meaningful to sit with the vision of one artist for an extended period of time. It\u2019s an experience that can offer shelter from the noise\u2014or it can offer better noise, if that\u2019s what you\u2019re looking for. From drowsy hip-hop to pitch-perfect pop, albums of all genres felt more profound than ever. Synthesizing devastating breakups and calling for revolution in every style of sound, these albums went all-in on what matters.<\/p>\n

Listen to selections from this list on our Spotify playlist and Apple Music playlist.<\/p>\n

Check out all of Pitchfork\u2019s 2019 wrap-up coverage here.<\/p>\n

(All releases featured here are independently selected by our editors. When you buy something through our retail links, however, Pitchfork may earn an affiliate commission.)<\/p>\n

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Ninja Tune<\/p>\n

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50.<\/div>\n

Floating Points: Crush<\/em><\/h2>\n

British electronic producer Sam Shepherd has always exerted remarkable control over his meticulous musical output as Floating Points: With his favored instrument, the Buchla modular synthesizer, he can contour sound waves and alter circuitry to suit his needs. But Shepherd, like the rest of us, has comparatively little control over his input, and the chaos of the past three years\u2014Brexit, Trump\u2014shook something loose inside him. Out came Crush,<\/em> a record that vibrates with sadness and anger, buoyed by squelching melodies that flutter and pop. It\u2019s the sound of a super-rational person realizing the limits of reason and letting loose with 44 minutes of pure feeling. \u2013Jonah Bromwich<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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49.<\/div>\n

Faye Webster: Atlanta Millionaires Club<\/em><\/h2>\n

On Atlanta Millionaires Club<\/em>, 22-year-old singer-songwriter Faye Webster taps into a wide variety of her Southern hometown\u2019s natural reserves, powering her homebody daydreams with drowsy folk-country, bold R&B, and filigreed soul. These solitary songs about unrequited love are full of intimate moments and gestures: hanging on the dead air between her and the silent recipient of a love letter; sleeping in an ex\u2019s shirt to keep the memories fresh; begging an old flame to come back into town and renew their spark. Her eagle-eyed observations about her hapless relationships can be as funny as they are heartbreaking, like on the swooning \u201cJonny,\u201d where she laments how her dog is her best friend even though, she sings, \u201cHe doesn’t even know what my name is.\u201d \u2013Sheldon Pearce<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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48.<\/div>\n

Danny Brown: uknowhatimsayin\u00bf<\/em><\/h2>\n

Danny Brown\u2019s fifth full-length offers heartening proof that the 38-year-old has settled snugly into a demographic of middle-class rappers who can sustain livelihoods without the pressure of storming charts or selling out stadiums. The album is a wonderful scenario for an artist a decade into their career: a rewarding balance of consistency and growth, with subtle experimentation instead of the common midcareer misstep of transparently grabbing for radio play. Brown knows what works and honors it here.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Notably, uknowhatimsayin\u00bf<\/em> is executive produced by Q-Tip, whose penchant for air and texture encourages Brown into a mellower, more sober headspace. Fuzzy guitar, looped strings, and expansive guest spots from fellow vets Blood Orange and Run the Jewels underscore a new phase of Brown\u2019s work without blotting out the high-pitched urgency that made him a compelling figure in the first place. That he\u2019s still rapping his ass off makes uknowhatimsayin\u00bf<\/em> as satisfying to hear as you can imagine it was for Brown to make. \u2013Rawiya Kameir<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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47.<\/div>\n

Barker: Utility<\/em><\/h2>\n

Sam Barker is wary of taking the easy route in getting people to move their bodies. A resident DJ at Berlin\u2019s hallowed techno haven Berghain, he has voiced his skepticism of kick drums and drops\u2014the utilitarian elements that so often trigger lizard-brain reactions on a dancefloor. For his debut album, Utility<\/em>, Barker dug into his archives to see which of his old sketches sounded good when he stripped them back to the studs. The result is mysterious, weightless. These tracks still throb: \u201cHedonic Treadmill\u201d and \u201cUtility\u201d are trance-like bangers made propulsive entirely via cycling synth melodies, and even the more ambient songs swell and build like club music. As a whole, Utility<\/em> is an expression of what techno can be when the most obvious percussive elements go away. \u2013Evan Minsker<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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46.<\/div>\n

Chai: PUNK<\/em><\/h2>\n

PUNK<\/em>, the second album from Nagoya, Japan\u2019s Chai, is as anthemic and glossy as it is insurgent. Throughout the record, the quartet subtly distort their sugar-pie group vocals, whisking them into frenzied disco-grrl guitars, hectic brass bleats, and fluorescent electro blips. They pierce the conformist pressures of contemporary Asian femininity without clich\u00e8s or sloganeering: \u201cToo much makeup\/Just lips and eyebrows all set,\u201d chirps frontwoman Mana in Japanese. \u201cGlossy yellow skin\/Have nothing more than this.\u201d Looking like what society demands of you isn\u2019t weakness, they seem to say\u2014it just means you can start your fire within its walls. \u2013Stacey Anderson<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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45.<\/div>\n

DaBaby: Baby on Baby<\/em><\/h2>\n

On his major label debut, North Carolina rapper DaBaby is tireless behind the mic, weaving words with a boxer\u2019s nimble intensity. Utterly smashed 808s and snappy drums undergird his flows as he injects fierce energy into hits like \u201cSuge\u201d and \u201cBaby Sitter.\u201d He has range beyond the singles, too: \u201cCarpet Burn\u201d finds him twirling around hedonistic reflections on his success, while \u201cDeal Wit It\u201d and \u201cBackend\u201d flash his melodic finesse. At the start of this year, DaBaby made his ambitions clear, saying, \u201cI want to get where Drake and them are at.\u201d With Baby on Baby<\/em>, as well as its follow-up, KIRK<\/em>, which hit No. 1 in October, he put in the work to make his big talk a reality. \u2013Noah Yoo<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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44.<\/div>\n

Holly Herndon: PROTO<\/em><\/h2>\n

PROTO<\/em> plays like a document of the creation of Spawn, the neural network that experimentalist Holly Herndon trained to sing using her voice alongside the voices of some 300 collaborators. But Spawn isn\u2019t a computer simulation made to appear human, like other recent CGI novelties. According to Herndon, who recently earned her PhD in artificial intelligence in music, Spawn learns on \u201cher\u201d own, and Herndon uses the technology to create an album that thrills even beyond its futuristic context. The thundering \u201cFrontier\u201d builds a battle anthem for the climate emergency against anxious AI wails, while \u201cGodmother\u201d interpolates the fragmented rhythms of Herndon\u2019s friend Jlin, chopping and scattering Spawn\u2019s voice as if it were being fed through fan blades. At times, listening to PROTO<\/em> can feel like being immersed in a language you\u2019re only just beginning to understand, where obvious phrases seem to stick out of inappropriate contexts and the familiar is not quite so. \u2013Anna Gaca<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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Atlantic<\/p>\n

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43.<\/div>\n

Rico Nasty \/ Kenny Beats: Anger Management<\/em><\/h2>\n

Following their mosh-worthy 2018 collaboration \u201cSmack a Bitch,\u201d Maryland rapper Rico Nasty and producer Kenny Beats doubled down on their reckless chemistry with Anger Management<\/em>. Offering nine tracks in 18 minutes, the project burns quick and bright: Mostly, Rico jumps in, commands a raucous beat, and dips before the three-minute mark. But midway through, her signature voice-cracking threats shift in tone. She\u2019s still calling out irritating shit, but with a cool-headed poise. The bright \u201cSell Out\u201d contemplates her growth as an artist, the things she\u2019s lost to get there, and the strength she found in turning her \u201cemotions to something y\u2019all could sing to.\u201d Anger Management<\/em> bursts open with the fury of a hardcore record, but it also shows there\u2019s much more to Rico than her temper. \u2013Braudie Blais-Billie<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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42.<\/div>\n

100 gecs: 1000 gecs<\/em><\/h2>\n

The thrill of 1000 gecs<\/em> isn\u2019t just the post-internet omnivorousness with which it connects its various reference points, but how profoundly dumb it is. These are the kinds of songs you might make up in the shower, or to your pet\u2014half-phrased absurdities too embarrassing to let out of your own head, let alone broadcast to an audience. For as fragmented as this carousel of mall punk, trap-pop, video-game soundtracks, and melodramatic Euro-trance can feel, the lingering mood is one of intimacy, of inner children mashing the pleasure button without boundaries or shame. That Dylan Brady and Laura Les recorded most of it through remote collaboration makes sense: 1000 gecs<\/em> taps into a kind of communication predicated on separateness, mining the difference between what you can say aloud in your imperfect human body and what you can express in a boundless cyberspace. \u2013Mike Powell<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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Dark Descent\/Century Media<\/p>\n

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41.<\/div>\n

Blood Incantation: Hidden History of the Human Race<\/em><\/h2>\n

In one sense, Blood Incantation are traditionalists. The warped, intricate death metal of the Colorado quartet\u2019s sophomore album takes influence from legendary bands like Death and Morbid Angel, while its all-analog recording and illustrated sci-fi cover art feel further rooted in the past. Even the side-long closing track, \u201cAwakening From the Dream of Existence to the Multidimensional Nature of Our Reality (Mirror of the Soul),\u201d seems like a nod to the \u201970s prog acts whose dark visions helped inspire countless subgenres of heavy music. Yet the real brilliance of this music lies in how free<\/em> it sounds from what\u2019s come before. On these four songs\u2014ranging from gnarled chaos in \u201cThe Giza Power Plant\u201d to the psychedelic slow burn of \u201cInner Paths (to Outer Space)\u201d\u2014Blood Incantation find their own corner in a storied cosmos, where even the most familiar textures can feel thrilling and extreme. \u2013Sam Sodomsky<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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40.<\/div>\n

Thom Yorke: ANIMA<\/em><\/h2>\n

Was 2019 the year Thom Yorke finally got funky? Sure, Radiohead\u2019s \u201cIdioteque\u201d kind of banged, and the singer has been known to flail around to syncopated rhythms from time to time. But until ANIMA<\/em>, there was something a little stiff about Yorke\u2019s beats, both solo and with his band, a studiousness that suggested a lifetime of nervously eyeing the dancefloor. ANIMA<\/em> saw him jump right in: Songs like \u201cImpossible Knots,\u201d \u201cTraffic,\u201d and \u201cNot the News\u201d genuinely swing<\/em>. The album also boasts some of his dreamiest tracks, from the storm-tossed swoon of \u201cTwist\u201d to the angelic venom on \u201cI Am a Very Rude Person.\u201d And Yorke finally got around to nailing the legendarily elusive \u201cDawn Chorus,\u201d which shows up here as a sunset synthesizer buzz. With ANIMA<\/em>, the 51-year-old embraced meaty production while maintaining his taste for digital glitches and melodic sprawl, coming away with his finest solo album yet. \u2013Ben Cardew<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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39.<\/div>\n

Aldous Harding: Designer<\/em><\/h2>\n

Aldous Harding is frequently inscrutable. The music world didn\u2019t know how to respond to the New Zealand singer-songwriter\u2019s unpredictable 2017 album Party<\/em>; its follow-up, Designer<\/em>, is even more opaque. At a time when many of our biggest stars visit Genius HQ to offer blow-by-blow accounts of their lyrics, Harding gives us cryptic lines like \u201cshow the ferret to the egg\u201d and dares us not to overthink them.<\/p>\n

Designer<\/em> is a fitting headphone companion for wandering the city in a melancholy fog, but it never fades into the background. Odd lines and textures linger: an incongruous maraca, a chorus that falls away to leave Harding eerily silhouetted against sparse piano, a world map with a pin in Dubai. Then there\u2019s Harding\u2019s voice itself, an androgynous instrument that glides from deep-chested husk to nasal yowl, often within the same song. On the title track, she declares, \u201cShapes live forever,\u201d<\/em> and they do here: Harding\u2019s songs create jagged, impressionistic outlines that allow listeners to climb inside, yet they are unmistakably her own. \u2013Aimee Cliff<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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38.<\/div>\n

RAP: EXPORT<\/em><\/h2>\n

Do you think Lifetones are far and away better than This Heat? Do you feel like Gang Gang Dance were never the same after Tim DeWitt left the band? Do you stand in solidarity with DJ Sprinkles in her anti-streaming stance? If you have a burning hot desire to answer these questions, then you\u2019re probably already obsessed with the RAP album. If, instead, parsing any of the proper nouns above makes you want to throw the whole of experimental music into the ocean, bear with me, and please give a listen to EXPORT<\/em>. Yes, the album fits comfortably within the avant-garde\u2019s long tail, but the British duo\u2019s sound is primed for a much larger audience. Blending skittering percussion with stoned-out synths and charmingly monotone vocals, EXPORT<\/em> is warm and playful, a genreless exploration of rhythm. It\u2019s the type of record that seems destined to be rediscovered long after its release and heralded as ahead of its time. But it doesn\u2019t have to be. \u2013Matthew Schnipper<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Bandcamp<\/p>\n

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37.<\/div>\n

Nil\u00fcfer Yanya: Miss Universe<\/em><\/h2>\n

Nil\u00fcfer Yanya plays her guitar the way some people pick at their nails\u2014as if she wouldn’t know what to do with her hands if she stopped. Along with her rich voice, Yanya\u2019s fidgety guitar is one of the few binding threads tying together her virtuosic, post-genre smear of a debut. With the poise of Sade\u2019s Love Deluxe<\/em> and the zapped attention span of Pavement\u2019s Wowee Zowee<\/em>, Miss Universe<\/em> triple-axels between silky soul, smoldering jazz, and ripping alt-rock\u2014and then adds hybrids like \u201cTears,\u201d a song that seems to imagine what Timbaland might have sounded like if he made \u201980s new wave records. It\u2019s an album that never stops openly wondering how cool it might be if it tried to be something completely different. \u2013Evan Rytlewski<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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36.<\/div>\n

Denzel Curry: ZUU<\/em><\/h2>\n

Nearly a decade after releasing his first tape, Carol City, Florida\u2019s most promising native son, Denzel Curry, delivered his opus this year. ZUU<\/em> is an homage to the rapper\u2019s hometown, alight with the anarchic spirit of an art-school thesis. Curry freestyled nearly every song on the album\u2014an extraordinary feat for any rapper, made all the more dazzling by the vividness of his storytelling and the complexity of his internal rhymes. It is a privilege to spend a half hour in the singular slice of South Florida that Curry paints in his forthright verses. He\u2019s frank about the violence plaguing his beloved home; frank about the murder of his brother, Treon Johnson, who was Tasered to death by police in 2014. But he also wants his listeners to know about all the goodness that South Florida has to offer, all the day-one friends he\u2019s made on its sun-soaked streets. With ZUU<\/em>, Curry kicks at the darkness surrounding him until it bleeds daylight. \u2013Peyton Thomas<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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35.<\/div>\n

Mannequin Pussy: Patience<\/em><\/h2>\n

For their first album with legendary pop-punk label Epitaph Records, the Philadelphia quartet Mannequin Pussy swap fuzz-heavy thrashers for melodic, grand anthems of heartache and regret. On \u201cDrunk II,\u201d a raging post-breakup lament, frontwoman Marisa Dabice drowns her hurt in alcohol and wry jokes, but there\u2019s no mistaking the depth of her emptiness. The pop-forward \u201cWho You Are\u201d finds Dabice tackling self-loathing, settling on a kind of acceptance that sounds simple but is anything but. And she sings of a fledgling romance on the closing \u201cIn Love Again,\u201d which wraps around her like a pair of arms while guitar riffs shoot off fireworks\u2014a surprise happy ending to an album that turns anguish into high drama. \u2013Madison Bloom<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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34.<\/div>\n

slowthai: Nothing Great About Britain<\/em><\/h2>\n

Brexit broke Britain, fast-rewinding the country to the \u201970s, when it first joined Europe and last seemed this close to collapse. Perhaps that\u2019s why slowthai, a grime MC from the nowheresville dead-center of England, often feels so punk. His publicity stunts\u2014like brandishing Prime Minister Boris Johnson\u2019s decapitated head at an awards ceremony\u2014can\u2019t help but recall the Sex Pistols (and Sid Vicious got a namecheck in one of his songs). On the Bajan-British MC\u2019s debut album, Nothing Great About Britain<\/em>, he even tosses in a sample from an ancient doc about glue-sniffing\u2014that proud, crusty pastime. Elsewhere, the evocations are early-millennial: The loping, strings-propelled beat on \u201cDrug Dealer\u201d nods to the Streets, and he shouts out Dizzee Rascal.<\/p>\n

These echoes might all add up to d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu if it weren\u2019t for slowthai\u2019s outsize personality and sharp eye for detail, from \u201cNorthampton\u2019s Child,\u201d the touching, Tupac-like tribute to his single mom, to the teen miscreant memoir \u201cNorth Nights.\u201d Still, it\u2019s the waywardness of his delivery that really sets him apart: Sounding like a cross between a grimacing gargoyle and an impish urchin, he lurches side-to-side over his grooves like a drunk and agitated man approaching you on the pavement; you flinch, but you also lean in to hear what he\u2019s ranting about. Even more than calling Her Majesty the C-word, slowthai\u2019s mangling of the Queen\u2019s English is his true feat of treason. \u2013Simon Reynolds<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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33.<\/div>\n

Polo G: Die a Legend<\/em><\/h2>\n

When Chicago drill first hit mainstream rap like a sonic icepick seven years ago, it was due to the distinctive, abrasive sounds of Chief Keef, Young Chop, and King Louie. But drill has always had a melodic side, and that undergirding pop sensibility has allowed the subgenre to survive in an industry always on the lookout for the next regional trend. Chicago\u2019s latest star is Polo G, whose debut album Die a Legend<\/em> contains some of the best hip-hop ballads in recent memory. Polo approaches his verses with the dedication of a singer-songwriter, and his bleeding-heart sadness is more akin to country than emo-rap. Even when he\u2019s snatching chains and staging robberies, like on the chorus of his breakout hit \u201cPop Out,\u201d Polo G is apologetic and regretful, unable to ignore the ghosts. \u2013Nadine Smith<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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32.<\/div>\n

Sharon Van Etten: Remind Me Tomorrow<\/em><\/h2>\n

After the lonesome folk of her 2009 debut, Sharon Van Etten\u2019s subsequent albums mostly offered modest tweaks to a familiar strain of heartland-flavored indie. But Remind Me Tomorrow<\/em> cracks her style open like a geode: The roadhouse soul of \u201cYou Shadow\u201d is halfway between Motown and Massive Attack; \u201cSeventeen\u201d arrives decades too late for the John Hughes closing credits it deserves; \u201cJupiter 4,\u201d titled after a vintage Roland synthesizer, sounds like a gothic take on slowcore. It all makes for a fitting soundtrack for starting over. Among all the record\u2019s big themes\u2014the brush with death recounted on the album\u2019s opener, the closing letter to her child\u2014it\u2019s the little details that stick out, like a line of dialogue that gives \u201cComeback Kid\u201d the feel of a finely turned short story. Like a freshly polished lens, the album\u2019s eclectic production only pulls Van Etten\u2019s songwriting into sharper focus. \u2013Philip Sherburne<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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31.<\/div>\n

MIKE: Tears of Joy<\/em><\/h2>\n

Most rap songs are composed of two main elements: the rapping and the beat. Sometimes those two things complement each other nicely; sometimes they don\u2019t. But rarely do they melt into each other in the way they do on MIKE\u2019s Tears of Joy<\/em>. The young New York City artist\u2019s delivery is somewhere between talking and rapping, and the album\u2019s production, composed of short loops of various dirgelike sounds, matches that intermediary state. The whole thing is recorded grittily\u2014a garage band\u2019s lo-fi aesthetic applied to hip-hop. You can duck in and out of deep listening: Binge Tears of Joy<\/em>\u2019s 20 short songs as one complete thought or rewind when a particular detail pricks your ears, like the stuttered beat of \u201cPlanet\u201d or the vividly abstract bildungsroman of \u201cMemorial.\u201d The album closes with another type of lo-fi recording: a voicemail MIKE\u2019s mother left him before she died. \u201cMy son, I love you so much,\u201d she says. \u201cYou are such a golden child. My blessed boy. You shall be blessed forever. Ever.\u201d \u2013Matthew Schnipper<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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30.<\/div>\n

Oso Oso: Basking in the Glow<\/em><\/h2>\n

\u201cI got two souls fighting for the same spotlight,\u201d Long Island emo hero Jade Lilitri sings on the opening track of his third album as Oso Oso, Basking in the Glow<\/em>. One soul seems devoted to self-pity and the other to splendor, and throughout the album, this internal battle plays out via guitar rock that\u2019s marked by a dappled radiance. \u201cPriority Change\u201d swaggers with shy pride in its chord changes, while Lilitri complains of \u201cbeing trapped in binary code.\u201d \u201cDig\u201d gets the balance just about right, with a gloriously smeared chorus in which he\u2019s \u201cstill reeling from the mess I made.\u201d Gems like \u201cImpossible Game\u201d find drama in the effort to invest meaning in well-worn metaphors of open roads and unknowable partners. It\u2019s self-conscious stuff, to be sure, with highlight \u201cWake Up Next to God\u201d reveling in the G-force of self-torment. But Lilitri shows why that spotlight\u2014that glow to bask in\u2014is worth fighting for. \u2013Jesse Dorris<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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29.<\/div>\n

Ariana Grande: thank u, next<\/em><\/h2>\n

Ariana Grande released thank u, next<\/em> in the aftermath of her ex-boyfriend Mac Miller\u2019s death and her broken engagement to Pete Davidson, but she refuses to bend to the tropes of traumatized women throughout the album. She flaunts her vulnerability. She molds her desires into flexes. She is silly and silky and occasionally swaggering, not in spite of her tumultuous recent past but because of it. Her swooping voice stitches the disparate moods together, gliding from gorgeous high notes into husky psuedo-raps, demanding to be followed as she pulls you from the dancefloor to the bedroom, from praying to partying. There are powerhouse, splashy pop numbers here\u2014\u201cNASA,\u201d \u201cbad idea,\u201d \u201c7 rings\u201d\u2014but the quieter tracks, especially the title song, showcase a stunning maturity. \u2013Dani Blum<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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28.<\/div>\n

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds: Ghosteen<\/em><\/h2>\n

You become a parent with the wish that your kids outlive you. But what happens when that hope is suddenly dashed? Nick Cave confronts this reality on Ghosteen<\/em>, the first album he wrote and recorded in full after the tragic accidental death of his teen son, Arthur. It\u2019s a record unlike anything else he\u2019s made with the Bad Seeds across the last 35 years.<\/p>\n

On “Hollywood,” the double LP’s 14-minute closing track, Cave viscerally summarizes his broken heart. “The kid drops his bucket and spade\/And climbs into the sun,” he murmurs before the track\u2019s steady bassline suddenly glitches, as if the needle of a turntable has hit a bad groove, and Cave begins to keen in falsetto. Ghosteen<\/em> abounds with stark moments like this that reveal the raw heart of grief. To sit with it can be almost unbearable, and yet Cave\u2014with the same talent he\u2019s loaned to many other dark topics\u2014takes the harshness of life and uses it to cleave his way to the truth of being human. Singing his sorrow so nakedly, with so little reserve, Cave asks the world to bear witness to the love he\u2019s shared and his cavernous, neverending loss. \u2013Sasha Geffen<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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27.<\/div>\n

Florist: Emily Alone<\/em><\/h2>\n

Emily Alone<\/em> is the kind of delicate album that doesn\u2019t compete for your attention so much as it waits patiently for you to return to it. Credited to singer-songwriter Emily Sprague\u2019s band but very much a solitary project, the record comes on the heels of a few years in which she underwent three of the biggest changes a person can undergo: the dissolution of a relationship, the death of a parent, and a major shift in location, from upstate New York to California. Not that the trauma surfaces in the music. If anything, Emily Alone<\/em> embodies the hard-earned truth that behind every moment, however dramatic, lies another, quieter moment, transpiring without expectation or pressure.<\/p>\n

Like the water Sprague often sings about, and by which she is so evidently moved, the music here is rippling and continuous, bedroom folk rendered with the meditative heart of new age. (That she also makes beautiful, droning synthesizer music isn\u2019t surprising.) The album\u2019s underlying note is a kind of supreme confidence, the sound of an artist seeking truth with open eyes, a gentle heart, and a practiced commitment to the possibility that under the politics and advertising lies a beautiful experience of the world. And so she puts her faith in trees, the ocean, her friends, and, finally, herself. Emily Alone<\/em> dares you to tell her she\u2019s wrong. \u2013Mike Powell<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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26.<\/div>\n

Burna Boy: African Giant<\/em><\/h2>\n

Nigeria\u2019s Burna Boy titled his fourth album African Giant<\/em> to reflect his own outsized stature in his home country and, more broadly, the continent\u2019s eons-long cultural footprint. On it, he perfects styles from the worldwide African diaspora and situates them in universal conversation, while his sharp ear for collaborators\u2014including Future and YG, Lagos rapper Zlatan, Kingston crooner Serani, and Beninise icon Ang\u00e9lique Kidjo\u2014underpins his thesis and shows off his range.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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The record is a sublime peak for the interchange between pared-down Afrobeats and sax-infused dancehall, and Burna Boy\u2019s supple, occasionally craggy vocals\u2014in English, Igbo, Pidgin, Yoruba\u2014deliver intimacy, romance, and politically biting messages about colonialism. African Giant<\/em> places him in the lineage of his Nigerian countryman Fela Kuti, a national treasure whose supreme musicality was inextricable from the rebellious surroundings in which it was made. More than his ability to smoothly navigate and naturally fuse genres through his voice, Burna Boy\u2019s opus reflects a rare magnanimity of vision that is also simply irrefutable on a dancefloor. \u2013Julianne Escobedo Shepherd<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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25.<\/div>\n

Vampire Weekend: Father of the Bride<\/em><\/h2>\n

Vampire Weekend ambled away from the spotlight for a half-decade or so, but even as the delays mounted for the follow-up to their 2013 masterpiece Modern Vampires of the City<\/em>\u2014and even as Rostam Batmanglij, long thought to be their behind-the-scenes mastermind, left to pursue other projects\u2014they returned on Father of the Bride<\/em> as if they\u2019d just stepped out of the country club for a breath of sea air. Nothing, it seems\u2014neither time, nor age, nor a shifting cultural landscape\u2014can chip away at their self-delighted gleam, their garish sophistication, their heartbroken contentment.<\/p>\n

Seasoned experts at locating the expanding borders of \u201ccool\u201d and then working just outside them, here Vampire Weekend decide that they are a jam band, with all of the fretless bass and weightless Jerry Garcia guitar solos this implies. Of course, they sound goofy at first. And of course, when the surface dressings fall away, Ezra Koenig is writing as searchingly as ever about lasting happiness, low-grade fear, and the certainty that if bad times are here, worse times are on the way. No matter how long they go away, Vampire Weekend will always return perfectly out of time. \u2013Jayson Greene<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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24.<\/div>\n

Kim Gordon: No Home Record<\/em><\/h2>\n

After rewriting rock\u2019s rulebook with Sonic Youth, establishing herself as a star in the art world, and writing a memoir, Kim Gordon finally got around to making her first solo album. For No Home Record<\/em>, she worked with producer Justin Raisen, whose credits include the Kim-indebted brooder Sky Ferreira and experimental shapeshifter Yves Tumor, and the pair conjure a dissonant, avalanche-sized sound. \u201cMurdered Out\u201d is three-and-a-half minutes of a patient bass loop being continuously, relentlessly sandblasted by one thing after another: distorted guitar, encroaching noise, and Gordon\u2019s roar, the strongest blast of all. \u201cGet Yr Life Back\u201d sits uneasily atop tensely arranged found-sound; \u201cSketch Artist\u201d seems to be tearing itself apart; \u201cPaprika Pony\u201d rides a minimal toy-piano rap beat that sounds like it was created by the world\u2019s most sinister toddler. No Home Record<\/em> shows that the 66-year-old Kim is still hellbent on chasing new musical ideas, wherever they may lead. \u2013Katherine St. Asaph<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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23.<\/div>\n

Tyler, the Creator: IGOR<\/em><\/h2>\n

Tyler, the Creator\u2019s IGOR<\/em> is an album about heartbreak, but the bright chords and harmonies suggest hope, not self-pity. His 2017 album Flower Boy<\/em> was a disarming journey into self-discovery, but Igor<\/em> is even more revealing, as Tyler wrestles with the fact that maybe he doesn\u2019t have everything figured out. Each track feels like a selection on a mixtape, chosen for a specific emotion: \u201cRUNNING OUT OF TIME\u201d is a slow-groove journey into his subconscious, reminding you how singular Tyler\u2019s vision can be behind the boards; \u201cEARFQUAKE\u201d is one of Tyler\u2019s most ambitious songs, a catchy symphony that features Playboi Carti in the squeakiest and strangest version of his baby voice. Years ago, the idea of Tyler making music this intimate and reflective seemed like a stretch, but on IGOR<\/em>, he gives in to the grown-up uncertainty that eventually comes for us all. \u2013Alphonse Pierre<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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22.<\/div>\n

Cate Le Bon: Reward<\/em><\/h2>\n

While writing the songs that would become her fifth album, Welsh singer-songwriter Cate Le Bon spent a year studying furniture-building at an English architecture school, living alone in a cabin in England\u2019s rural Lake District. On Reward<\/em>, Le Bon proves herself to be a canny architect of another kind: one gifted at making dense sonic arrangements feel somehow weightless. These songs are intimate and personal, with Le Bon carefully leveraging a broader, deeper palette of instrumentation than on past work. Elastic, off-kilter guitar lines carry the prickly \u201cMother\u2019s Mother\u2019s Magazines,\u201d while \u201cSad Nudes\u201d floats along slack percussion and metallic adornments. Her layers of guitars, synths, saxes, and more make Reward<\/em> feel lavish but never overstuffed. With everything in its just-right place, Le Bon’s precise touches on Reward<\/em> are prizes in their own right. \u2013Allison Hussey<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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21.<\/div>\n

Billie Eilish: When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?<\/em><\/h2>\n

Every generation gets the teen-angst avatar it deserves. For kids raised under the threat of mass extinction, of course<\/em> a dead-eyed 17-year-old whispering about night terrors, benzos, suicide, and the climate crisis over a post-genre stew of trap beats, dubstep drops, and twee-ish bedroom pop would be hailed as a savior. (Throw in ASMR sonics, samples from The Office<\/em>, a dental drill, and the sound of the singer ripping out her own Invisalign, and you\u2019ve got Gen Z musique concr\u00e8te.) But you don\u2019t have to be below the drinking age to appreciate Billie Eilish\u2019s peculiar magic: Her music serves as a thrilling reminder of the vertiginous highs and lows of adolescence, from the giddy insouciance of \u201cbad guy\u201d to the boiling rage of \u201cyou should see me in a crown\u201d to the black-hole devastation of \u201cwhen the party\u2019s over.\u201d It\u2019s going to be fascinating to watch how Eilish\u2019s career unfolds: In 10 years, she will still be well under 30. Let\u2019s hope the planet survives that long. \u2013Amy Phillips<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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20.<\/div>\n

Jenny Hval: The Practice of Love<\/em><\/h2>\n

As the planet becomes more crowded, studies suggest the most surefire way to limit your impact on a world buckling beneath our self-made weight is to have fewer children, or even none at all. Norwegian art-pop philosopher Jenny Hval floats between these logical dots throughout The Practice of Love<\/em>, an album of festering generational unease set to the twilit synths and entrancing pulses of \u201990s raves. The music is a wryly nostalgic nod to the moment in history just before we as a species fully understood how quickly life on Earth as we know it might collapse.<\/p>\n

Surveying a wounded forest, Hval finds spirits stronger than God: herself, her friends, the continuums of art and ecology. She reckons with being child-free in a society that constantly reminds her how she\u2019s running out of biological time. And, finally, she finds liberation in feeling equivalent to an annual plant, blooming once briefly and then fading into the forest. The Practice of Love<\/em> asks more questions than it answers: Are we more responsible to ourselves or to our species? What value is conforming in a world where norms have ruined us? And what does one\u2019s legacy look like when the future isn\u2019t guaranteed? These are what Hval calls her \u201cloops of the mind,\u201d scattered here among voices that search for communion in an atmosphere of crisis. \u2013Grayson Haver Currin<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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19.<\/div>\n

Jessica Pratt: Quiet Signs<\/em><\/h2>\n

Jessica Pratt\u2019s folk songs usually press right up against the speaker, making you feel inches away from her delicately voiced guitar, lonesome words, and peculiar execution of vowels\u2014a language unto itself. Her third album, Quiet Signs<\/em>, sounds a little further away\u2014perhaps through an open stained-glass window as Pratt, alone in a church, hums as if she\u2019s just going through soundcheck. Only a few lyrics pop out from her baroque melodies, like, \u201cThis time around, has it gone so grey that my faith can’t hold out?\u201d Her nylon-string guitar recalls sunny \u201970s Brazilian pop, but her voice is all fog and rain. Are you hearing these songs, or spying on them? \u2013Jeremy D. Larson<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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18.<\/div>\n

Clairo: Immunity<\/em><\/h2>\n

The solitary piano chords that launch Clairo\u2019s debut album sum up the emotional tone of everything to come. Opener \u201cAlewife\u201d finds 21-year-old singer-songwriter Claire Cottrill revisiting suicidal thoughts that she had in eighth grade, and over the next 10 tracks, we are with her through so many growing pains and regrets. Even on the twinkling \u201cImpossible,\u201d where she evokes how weird and cool it is to be a young person with a messy, meaningful life ahead, she never hides. Cottrill, who went viral in 2017 with the charmingly homemade track \u201cPretty Girl,\u201d has said that Immunity<\/em> is partly about the process of coming out as bisexual, and songs like \u201cBags\u201d and \u201cWhite Flag\u201d feel undeniably about the beginnings of things. Meanwhile, the closing \u201cI Wouldn\u2019t Ask You,\u201d about Cottrill\u2019s struggle with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, is born directly from fresh pain: A choir of children lifts the song up, and you\u2019re reminded how, in early adulthood, you wonder if you\u2019re ever going to figure life out. With compassion and understanding, Immunity<\/em> helps you access your unfinished self, the one you paved over just to make it through. \u2013Alex Frank<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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17.<\/div>\n

(Sandy) Alex G: House of Sugar<\/em><\/h2>\n

Since first emerging as a prodigious one-man songwriting machine earlier this decade, Alex Giannascoli has remained tapped into an ever-flowing stream of idiosyncratic excellence. House of Sugar<\/em> is his most ambitious and immersive album yet. Moving beyond the haunted Americana of 2017\u2019s Rocket<\/em>, these 13 songs offer meticulous portraits of addiction, greed, and obsession. Inescapable spirals of desire\u2014whether for control, companionship, or instant gratification\u2014are manifested as voids desperate to be filled.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Giannascoli\u2019s tendency to enshroud his vulnerabilities in warped guitars and pitch-shifted vocals makes the straightforward candor of album standout \u201cHope\u201d all the more devastating. As he laments the overdose and subsequent death of a good friend, he reaches a humble conclusion: \u201cWhy write about it now?\/Gotta honor him somehow.\u201d This quiet tribute to the darkest of realities crystalizes what makes Giannascoli\u2019s songwriting so poignant: a resounding humanity. \u2013Quinn Moreland<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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16.<\/div>\n

Bon Iver: i,i<\/em><\/h2>\n

In form and function, Bon Iver\u2019s fourth album is an act of protest. You can see its vision of egalitarianism across the LP\u2019s inner gatefold, which shows obscured portraits of the 52 people who helped create the record. You can hear its selflessness in the myriad tones, instruments, voices, and happy accidents that come and go, subverting ego while sidestepping excess. Even the title i,i<\/em> nods to the Rastafarian idea of \u201cI and I,\u201d of oneness. Of course, Justin Vernon\u2019s elastic howl will always be the catalyst that transforms Bon Iver from just another experimental indie rock project to a quasi-religious cult of emotion, but on i,i<\/em>, he sounds like he\u2019s simply flowing through a slipstream, his load lightened.<\/p>\n

The songs follow an elusive\u2014and affecting\u2014dream logic. With its queasy synths, snatches of stray trumpet, and gas mask imagery, \u201cJelmore\u201d conjures a landscape from a not-too-distant future that\u2019s been left desolate by climate change. \u201cSh\u2019diah\u201d\u2014which Vernon began writing the morning after the 2016 election, with a title that stands for \u201cshittiest day in American history\u201d\u2014fights the ugliness of modern politics with an understated call for rationality. \u201cU (Man Like)\u201d is a piano ballad that urges men to do better. \u201cPower has come to me,\u201d Vernon said earlier this year, \u201cbut it\u2019s not fun to wield by yourself.\u201d i,i<\/em> is the solution, a collective effort as endless as it is empathetic. \u2013Ryan Dombal<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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15.<\/div>\n

Bill Callahan: Shepherd in a Sheepskin Vest<\/em><\/h2>\n

Plenty of people come to Bill Callahan\u2019s music just to hear him string sentences together as he explores an absurd, beautiful world one song at a time. While Callahan\u2019s double album Shepherd in a Sheepskin Vest<\/em> contains plenty of his signature wisdom\u2014songs about love and death, paternal advice and domestic romance, smirking one-liners and piercing, plainspoken verse\u2014its magic is in the way his words wear his music like a beloved pair of old jeans. His simple arrangements for guitar, strings, and percussion are filled with purpose: Every new note and lyric is in service of communicating a pure thought.<\/p>\n

Take \u201cWriting,\u201d which rises slow and heavy like the sun in late summer. \u201cIt feels good to be writing again,\u201d Callahan sighs, stepping through a field of thickly plucked notes; in the six years since his last album, he married and fathered a son, milestones that, for a while, dulled the need to be creative. He sings about clear water flowing from his pen, and a second riff emerges, lighter and more delicate, a cool stream burbling just out of sight. Eventually he leaves words behind entirely, sinking into cascading acoustic guitars and the soft tinkle of chimes. It\u2019s a moment representative of this warm, humble, and remarkably graceful album: a celebration of the act of creation that reaches its peak when there\u2019s nothing left to say. \u2013Jamieson Cox<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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14.<\/div>\n

Beyonc\u00e9: Homecoming: The Live Album<\/em><\/h2>\n

No one does maximalism like Beyonc\u00e9. Homecoming: The Live Album<\/em>\u2014the musical companion to her retina-popping Coachella live film\u2014boasts a whopping 40 tracks that fuse soul, hip-hop, gospel, and go-go with live skits and confessional interludes, as brassy marching bands and black drumlines give dap to the cultural traditions of HBCUs. In Beyonc\u00e9\u2019s musical Cuisinart, James Weldon Johnson\u2019s uplifting 1905 Negro National Anthem \u201cLift Ev\u2019ry Voice and Sing\u201d sidles up next to her bootyshaking 2016 club jam \u201cFormation.\u201d The dizzying result of all Beyonc\u00e9\u2019s kitchen-sink pop mastery: one of the most confident concert albums ever made, an audacious raising of the bar for stadium R&B in the footsteps of Prince, Michael Jackson, and Janet. In a cultural moment when black women\u2019s labor and contributions are still underrecognized and diminished, Homecoming<\/em> is the distillation of 21st century black female fabulosity. \u2013Jason King<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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13.<\/div>\n

Big Thief: Two Hands<\/em><\/h2>\n

By the time Big Thief released U.F.O.F.<\/em> this past May, you might\u2019ve thought they deserved some time off: It was their third album in four years. But not five months later came Two Hands<\/em>, which is as much an exorcism as its predecessor. Violence ripples through these songs like a vein of quartz\u2014\u201cRock and Sing\u201d might be a children\u2019s lullaby about lost souls, \u201cThe Toy\u201d an intimation of great evil. Warmed by humming amps and the presence of four bodies pressed in close, the album unspools as effortlessly as a campfire session\u2014stray counterpoints, offhand vocal harmonies, tiny details dancing like shadows on the treeline. At a time when it feels like no patch of ground is immune from either flood or fire, Two Hands<\/em> draws a circle and creates a refuge there. \u2013Philip Sherburne<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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12.<\/div>\n

Brittany Howard: Jaime<\/em><\/h2>\n

Brittany Howard named her debut solo album after her older sister, who died when Brittany was eight years old. While there\u2019s no song explicitly about her on Jaime<\/em>, there is urgent advice about how to live with the time we\u2019re given: by refusing hatred and spreading love in fractious times; by dismissing inattentive partners and acting on desire. That immediacy pervades the sound of Howard\u2019s solo debut, which is less wedded to genre than her work with Alabama Shakes and Thunderbitch. When the spirit calls for sparkling old soul, it\u2019s there, as on the perennially festive \u201cStay High\u201d; when Howard addresses a racist attack on her mixed-race parents, she doesn\u2019t smooth over the stumbling piano refrain, nor her stunned delivery. The magnetic scrappiness doubles as a bracing alert. \u2013Laura Snapes<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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11.<\/div>\n

Jamila Woods: LEGACY! LEGACY!<\/em><\/h2>\n

Jamila Woods, the Chicago-based teacher, activist, and R&B poet, takes an audacious leap forward on LEGACY! LEGACY!<\/em>, her sophomore album. Each song is named after a creative titan of color (Betty Davis, Zora Neale Hurston, James Baldwin, Frida Kahlo, etc.), drawing on the subject\u2019s specific history as a spiritual guide for locating her own truth. LEGACY! LEGACY!<\/em> is a more unified work than Woods\u2019 2016 debut, HEAVN,<\/em> which marked her as a graceful champion of self-love, black feminism, and her Windy City hometown. On this album, even Woods\u2019 more straightforward declarations\u2014she\u2019s \u201cnot your typical girl,\u201d she\u2019s \u201call out of fucks\u201d\u2014are set within richly imaginative and deeply allusive contexts, rooted in her artistic forebears. The music exists on an expanded scale, too, with producer Slot-A helping guide the proceedings from cosmic soul to garage-rock grit and on through to Chicago house. \u201cSo many women in me,\u201d Woods sings, and she is every one. \u2013Marc Hogan<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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10.<\/div>\n

Purple Mountains: Purple Mountains<\/em><\/h2>\n

We\u2019re used to confronting a work of crushing sadness after the artist who made it has reached a better place. Stories of depression and despair are easier to take with full knowledge of the happy ending. Purple Mountains<\/em>, the final album of new music from David Berman, released 26 days before he took his own life at age 52, offers no such luxury. A number of lines and song titles\u2014\u201cThe dead know what they are doing when they leave this world behind,\u201d from \u201cNights That Won\u2019t Happen,\u201d or \u201cNo way to last out here like this for long\u201d from \u201cAll My Happiness Is Gone\u201d\u2014seem to point at what was to come, and to hear them in a certain mood is to be emotionally overwhelmed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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But it\u2019s important to remember what Berman\u2019s friends at Drag City said following his death: His music didn\u2019t predict his death; it was written despite<\/em> his depression. The best way to hear these songs now is to listen to them in that spirit\u2014to assume Berman was fighting fire with fire. He searched for the perfectly turned phrase to articulate pain because it helped him feel less of it; he added jokes because the absurdity of life is funny. His parting gift turned out to be one of his very best records. \u2013Mark Richardson<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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9.<\/div>\n

Weyes Blood: Titanic Rising<\/em><\/h2>\n

Titanic Rising<\/em> is vintage-sounding music for people who don\u2019t want to live in the past. On her fourth album as Weyes Blood, L.A. singer-songwriter Natalie Mering coos laughably old-fashioned lines like \u201ctreat me right, I\u2019m still a good man\u2019s daughter\u201d while referencing the cosmic loneliness of modern dating. You can parse out the weight, hope, and humor of Mering\u2019s poetry, or you can sit back and let her dulcet tone and excellent taste in George Harrison-esque slide guitar wash over you. But even going the comfortable route, she is constantly disrupting her own \u201970s soft rock pastiche with sounds that represent the future\u2014space-age synths, satellites trying to connect. This simultaneous backwards-forwards vantage point leaves Mering well-positioned to consider our current moment\u2014even if she sounds almost nothing like it. \u2013Jillian Mapes<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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8.<\/div>\n

Fennesz: Agora<\/em><\/h2>\n

The magic of Christian Fennesz\u2019s work comes in the way he turns the minimal into the maximal, expanding tiny moments into huge sonic environments. When making Agora<\/em>, his first solo album in five years, the experimental ambient producer was forced to work minimally\u2014after losing his studio space, he was relegated to using headphones in a bedroom\u2014and he translated these restrictions into one of his most oversized works yet. The album\u2019s four tracks are all over 10 minutes in length and unabashedly sweeping, as processed guitar tones and dense computer manipulations generate droning, nearly-orchestral waves. But each mountainous track is also filled with small details, be it a high-pitched squall, a grainy click, or a distant rumble. Like all of Fennesz\u2019s best work, Agora<\/em> evokes memories and the way they linger and change. But the album never feels faded or nostalgic; all of its enveloping sound is immensely present, pulsing with life. \u2013Marc Masters<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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7.<\/div>\n

Helado Negro: This Is How You Smile<\/em><\/h2>\n

The most striking aspect of Helado Negro\u2019s This Is How You Smile<\/em> isn\u2019t the dreamy production, with its lush acoustic guitars wound around intimately rendered drums. It\u2019s not the field recordings that populate interludes like \u201cNovember 7.\u201d Nor is it the album\u2019s introspective closer, \u201cMy Name Is for My Friends,\u201d which splices ambient sounds with brief, cryptic dialogue. Amid all this wonder, what stays with you most is Roberto Carlos Lange\u2019s comforting voice: It\u2019s resonant and entrancing in both Spanish and English as he narrates meditations on resilience and the Latinx experience. Fresh hells rear their ugly heads every day, and Helado Negro reminds us that we can care for our communities as we seek to improve a world determined to beat us down. This Is How You Smile<\/em> effortlessly illustrates the kind of quiet rage that has come to feel increasingly common in our current reality; for that reason, it might be the finest political record of the year. \u2013Noah Yoo<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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6.<\/div>\n

Bad Bunny: X 100PRE<\/em><\/h2>\n

By the time Bad Bunny dropped his debut LP on Christmas Eve 2018, the Puerto Rican star had already demonstrated fluency in the trap, R&B, and reggaet\u00f3n sounds that dominate urbano music through a deluge of hit singles and features. But X 100PRE<\/em> was the first time all of those musical sides\u2014and more\u2014were presented in a singular statement. Expertly sequenced and absent of fluff, the album deploys only a choice few guest appearances designed for maximum impact: a rare Spanish verse from Drake, dirty bass programming by Diplo, and a romantic harmony courtesy of Ricky Martin. The focus instead is on flaunting Bad Bunny\u2019s wide stylistic range; he channels salsa king H\u00e9ctor Lavoe and flamboyant Mexican pop star Juan Gabriel as fluently as he might modern reggaetoneros like J Balvin and Ozuna. His versatility is most evident on the standout track \u201cLa Romana,\u201d in which bachata guitar weaves cleverly into a trap beat before swerving into a full-on dembow banger. For the past few years, Bad Bunny has remained a true original in an urbano scene littered with talented copycats, and X 100PRE<\/em> is his hard-to-catch victory lap. \u2013Matthew Ismael Ruiz<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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5.<\/div>\n

Solange: When I Get Home<\/em><\/h2>\n

In Solange\u2019s vision of Houston, the streetlights are hazy, the liquor is dark, and the air is humming with dreams. The singer\u2019s fourth album, When I Get Home<\/em>, is a collection of reveries on family, history, and blackness\u2014a love letter to her hometown. She finds solace in the frequent repetition of phrases and calls on powerful forebears for guidance, be they Alice Coltrane, Steve Reich, or DJ Screw. With its loose, almost jazz-like form, When I Get Home<\/em> elevates Solange\u2019s artistry to another plane: The grace and wisdom that flowed through 2016\u2019s A Seat at the Table<\/em> is chopped and screwed, complicated not just spiritually but musically as well. The album\u2019s more abstracted tendencies also come to the forefront in its surreal visual companion piece, set in various real and imagined locations around the city. But in Solange\u2019s generous hands, heady ideas don\u2019t feel out of reach. We\u2019re all given a place to rest in her Houston of the soul. \u2013Eric Torres<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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4.<\/div>\n

Angel Olsen: All Mirrors<\/em><\/h2>\n

With each record, Angel Olsen\u2019s music grows grander and darker, and on All Mirrors<\/em>, she spreads her leathery wings and nearly blots out the sky. Her most dramatic release yet, All Mirrors<\/em> telegraphs to us in Andrew Lloyd Webber-sized gestures: When Olsen’s voice ascends an octave on \u201cLark,\u201d the accompanying drum resounds like a cannon aimed at a fortress, and the dive-bombing glissandos from the orchestra mimic debris streaming around her. Over the album\u2019s inky expanse, Olsen tries out an entirely new, gothic corner of her record collection: The Cure\u2019s Disintegration<\/em>, Cocteau Twins\u2019 Heaven or Las Vegas<\/em>, Siouxsie and the Banshees. Even at its gauziest, however, Olsen\u2019s music still thrums with anxiety; her version of dream-pop is unsettled by existential terror, which prickles to the surface of \u201cToo Easy\u201d and \u201cWhat It Is\u201d like fever sweat. \u2013Jayson Greene<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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3.<\/div>\n

Big Thief: U.F.O.F.<\/em><\/h2>\n

Like white light refracted through a prism to reveal an array of colors, ordinary words and phrases\u2014wrinkled hands, silver hair, clear water\u2014take on new meanings when sung by Big Thief\u2019s Adrianne Lenker. U.F.O.F<\/em>, the first of two stellar albums the band released this year, sounds at once exploratory and wise, as if they are both seeing the world with fresh wonder while explaining the way things have always been. On bulked-up folky rock songs like \u201cJenni\u201d and \u201cBetsy,\u201d Lenker\u2019s winding voice twists through a dense weave of vine-like guitars and brittle drums, acting as a sonic anchor while the rhythm swirls around her. The lyrics are elliptical yet striking, so successful at filling you with what feels like an ancient longing that it sometimes feels like you\u2019re discovering a new language entirely. \u2013Vrinda Jagota<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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2.<\/div>\n

FKA twigs: MAGDALENE<\/em><\/h2>\n

FKA twigs\u2019 second album plays like an unsparing breakup manual for a distant species, some glamorous alien race presumably as brilliant at everything as she is: singing, producing, writing, dancing, seducing, exorcising, empathizing. MAGDALENE<\/em> is an overwhelming collection of intimacies, a generous feat of communication that turns her specific pain (not all of us have to get over a breakup with a celluloid vampire) into communion.<\/p>\n

For all the clever syntheses in MAGDALENE<\/em>\u2019s production\u2014polyphonic vocals wisping over bass shudders; operatic trills distorted into grisly yelps\u2014twigs is desperately clear in her words. Over the alluring trap beat of \u201choly terrain,\u201d she asks coyly for fidelity, nervous and brave in her open-heartedness. Part the waves of distortion on \u201chome with you,\u201d and she is wailing, gorgeously, at the injustice of emotional abandonment. And on the exquisite centerpiece \u201ccellophane,\u201d she is as exposed, fallen, and overwhelmed as the album\u2019s namesake. But unlike Mary Magdalene, twigs can reclaim her narrative, in this act of graceful assertion that makes the agony of her love heroic. \u2013Stacey Anderson<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n

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1.<\/div>\n

Lana Del Rey: Norman Fucking Rockwell!<\/em><\/h2>\n

After eight years, five albums, and complete political and cultural upheaval, Lana Del Rey has risen to her greatest musical heights. When she first crash-landed into the public consciousness in 2011, breathily cooing about video games and blue jeans, the artist formerly known as Lizzy Grant was engulfed in heated debates over her authenticity, whether or not she was in control of her creative output, and whether she deserved her success at all. (As if the Bowies and Madonnas of the world didn\u2019t spend decades proving that an artist\u2019s greatest triumphs can come from reinvention.) But she ignored the haters and plowed forward, steadily carving out her own dark corner of the pop landscape. Norman Fucking Rockwell!<\/em> takes that journey one step further: It cements Del Rey as a newly emergent Great American Songwriter.<\/p>\n

The elements of the Lana Del Rey Cinematic Universe, as established in the Born to Die<\/em> era, have remained consistent throughout her discography: Lynchian dreamscapes of haunted prom queens and suburban ennui, meditations on the death of the American Dream, Old Hollywood glamour, the agony and ecstasy of bad men, references to classic rock and Comp Lit 101. On Norman Fucking Rockwell!<\/em>, her songwriting at last goes toe-to-toe with the grandeur of her ideas. Her lyrics are dense poems destined for academic scrutiny, anchored by the kind of dry wit that could come as easily from the pen of Dorothy Parker as from a really good Instagram caption. Del Rey\u2019s attitude towards destructive relationships take a refreshing turn, giving her more agency than ever before: \u201cYou\u2019re fun and you\u2019re wild\/But you don\u2019t know the half of the shit that you put me through\/Your poetry\u2019s bad and you blame the news,\u201d she sings wearily on the title track. \u201c\u2019Cause you\u2019re just a man\/It\u2019s just what you do.\u201d (Because the reality of loving a fast-living, leather jacket-clad Romeo on a motorcycle is that you also have to deal with his bullshit.) Later, on \u201cVenice Bitch,\u201d she\u2019s \u201cfresh out of fucks forever,\u201d like so many of us aspire to be. On \u201cThe Greatest,\u201d she takes a widescreen look at our planet, sighing into the void as climate change brings about a hellish endless summer.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Del Rey\u2019s melodies also find their ideal setting in producer Jack Antonoff\u2019s airy Laurel Canyon psych-folk, where she follows in the lineage of Joni Mitchell and Carole King. Untethered from the electronic pop and hip-hop trappings of many of her previous songs, her vocals breathe deep and her melodies luxuriate. Nothing here aims anywhere near the top 40; to paraphrase Del Rey\u2019s buddy Kacey Musgraves, she\u2019s classic in the right way.<\/p>\n

Norman Fucking Rockwell!<\/em> is an album that arrived feeling like a greatest hits collection. Future generations will marvel that one album contained \u201cVenice Bitch\u201d and<\/em> \u201cMariners Apartment Complex\u201d and<\/em> \u201chope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have – but i have it.\u201d And they will scoff in disbelief that Lana Del Rey was once treated as anything but the poet laureate of a world on fire. \u2013Amy Phillips<\/p>\n

Listen\/Buy:<\/strong> Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/article>\n

Source URL: https:\/\/pitchfork.com\/features\/lists-and-guides\/best-albums-2019\/<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Lists & Guides The 50 Best Albums of 2019 The artists who ruled the year, starring FKA twigs, Bon Iver, Kim Gordon, DaBaby, and more By Pitchfork December 10, 2019 Illustration by Drew Litowitz. Images via Getty Images. In a hyperspeed world, it is increasingly meaningful to sit with the vision of one artist for […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[54],"class_list":["post-1254001","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-politics","tag-pitchfork-com"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1254001","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1254001"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1254001\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1254001"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1254001"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1254001"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}