Top Albums of 2021
This is my first time writing the list preamble after writing the list, it’s odd. I wasn’t sure whether to write a list this year honestly, the music was there but the motivation was lacking. I didn’t do much in 2021. I worked, I wandered, and I reclined farther into myself, embracing a hermit lifestyle I never thought I’d get to. I was scared that once I sat down to write I’d have nothing to say, losing some cosmic connection to music through a year of inaction and depression. Luckily, I’ve vomited enough about music over the years for the writing process to be hard-wired in, and the further I got the more fun I had. I do want this list to serve as a ‘Thing’ that I make, despite me using it to point you toward other things, and I want it to be good. I would consider it rude to throw my voice in alongside art that has helped me through the year without striving to show you its best side in the small time I’m given. Every album has a personality or story, and 2021 gave us some mind-boggling musical journeys to embark on. All the music on this list personally helped me through a rough day, and in return the best I can do is show you how.
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21.) Super Monster — Claud
On Super Monster, the debut album from Brooklyn-based artist Claud, traditional fangs and claws are traded in for moments of betrayal and a feeling of disconnection. We are ushered into this world through the cozy opening chords of ‘Overnight’, wherein Claud reflects on countless moments with a special person now lost to them. It’s painful but given a levity by its soft sonic palate of silky guitars and electronic drumbeats. The production of this album is minimal but droning. You seldom hear noises outside the core instrumentation, but you are never subjected to silence. The album exists in a liminal space, finding comfort in its sound while still navigating the emotional rollercoaster of intimacy and heartbreak. Tunes like ‘In Or In-Between’ finds Claud pleading for consistency, sick of being tugged back and forth in romantic games of what if. It’s here in this pleading that we see the monster in question that has formed in the artist’s mind. This album feels like Claud’s fear of being unloved, realized through their own memories with people who have made them question their value. Despite this, the album never takes a complete dive into hopelessness, songs like ‘That’s Mr. Bitch To You’ serving as a powerful sign of Claud not losing sight of themselves despite their longing. Super Monster doesn’t just stop once at pain and heartache, it pushes forth with the understanding that even if you are unloved, you must still maintain yourself. This becomes the album’s most admirable trait by the end of its runtime, even in its sadder moments, it never stops being a comforting reminder we oversee how we love ourselves.
20.) Hatsune Miku Symphony 2020 — Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra
In many respects, this is the most bizarre album you will find on this list; a bold collection of arrangements that recontextualizes how far music has come in the past century. For those unaware, Hatsune Miku is a Japanese Vocaloid (vocal synthesizer software) who was created in 2007, and using her software allows you to add the singer’s district electronic-tinged vocals to any song. Since the software debut, Miku has been featured on over 100,000 songs worldwide, and become an international icon whose range is constantly being expanded by those who feature her vocals. Miku and other Vocaloids have always thrived in the digital space, with online communities becoming the first to embrace their music and character, with much of their music reflecting this, leaning heavily towards J-Pop and Electronic Dance Pop in the bulk of their work. Opposite of Miku on this album is the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra (TPO), the oldest symphony in Japan, who reworked 17 Vocaloid tracks into a Symphonic style that highlights the strengths of both musical forces. The songs chosen to be rearranged varied across the board in their genres but feel intentional and succinct when played back-to-back. Tunes like ‘No Logic — Live’, originally a rock anthem, becomes a sweeping movement, maintaining the bounce that makes the song fun and introducing more dynamic tempo changes. The iconic Vocaloids even make personal appearances on the album, having performed live with the TPO during the recording process. The TPO’s intentions were to give the songs a new life and respect without erasing what makes the originals so enjoyable. The result feels as if Miku and friends are putting on different costumes and throwing a celebratory party for the listeners, their music that already broke boundaries now given a new validity by the TPO.
19.) life’s a beach — easy life
There’s a refreshing emotional maturity to life’s a beach, one not often found in male-centered musical groups. From the opening cut of ‘a message to myself’ we hear the lead singer reciting a mantra of self-love and empowerment to himself, to the tune of posh harpsichord riffs and thick bass. The mantra is reality simple, a reminder that the singer to be the one to put the most care into himself in this chaotic world. At times, the message can be played so straight that it comes off as parody, but this is more so due to the casual way in which the band tackles emotions. This casual-but-understanding theme reverberates through the entire album, with songs that reflect the complexity of trying to live your best life despite what it throws at you. It’s a tight line to walk, and you hear this in songs like ‘ocean view’ a ballad wherein the singer is trying to understand the motivations of a person he has taken a beach outing with who suddenly has no desire to venture into the water. You hear the singer earnestly trying to gauge where the other person’s head is at without blaming them too harshly for their decision not to swim. There’s an understanding on the artist’s part that people are messy and complex, and everyone has some method of coping with the parts of themselves they can’t stand. On ‘living strange’ we get this personal perspective from our lead singer, opening up on his tendency to drift ambivalently through life. This confession mixed with the upbeat groove makes for one of the most uplifting songs on the album, carried by the singer’s honesty and vulnerability. This album urges you to let your own walls down and lulls you into that emotional state by being so upfront itself, the musical equivalent of a stranger at a pub willing to lend you their undivided attention.
18.) The Crashing Sound of How It Goes — Cities Aviv
Cities Aviv specializes in stretching samples to their limits, often building songs off a single idea loop repeated until they meld into something new. For each song, it can be murky where a sample ends and production that was meant to emulate a sample starts, giving the music a surreal quality. The artist also draws from a spectrum of musical influence, enhancing the surrealism of the album by drawing from R&B, Pop, Jazz, and even Synth-wave. Existing in this middle ground of external influence that becomes the foundation of Cities Aviv’s internal dialogue, this album becomes a spectacle. There are often two sides to the narratives interwoven in his songs, the lyrics and production serving as different interpretations of the theme, giving listeners a choice on how they tackle songs on any given listen. We hear this in ‘Known it All, Seen it All’, which sees the Rapper starkly reflecting on the ups downs of his life, self-harm and a sense of lost purpose notwithstanding, set to a haunting glitch-like loop of a sample. It can be easy to find yourself lost in the production or lyrics of this record, which feels intended, letting the listener choose when it’s time to anchor themselves back to reality. The album isn’t afraid to pair some of the gorgeous vocal harmonies and chord structures found within these base samples with Aviv’s dark humor and pessimism. The Crashing Sound of How It Goes has its depressing lyrical moments but never wallows in that dread; instead, the fluid format and short track runtimes allow it to touch on heavy feelings before giving listeners an emotional reprieve. The album strives to fill the listener’s ear without overwhelming their capacity to parse the music. On the short but poignant ‘Imma Stay Here’, referring to his desire to both stay alive and continue churning out music, we see that the rapper longs for simplicity, having to constantly remind himself what is important to him and why. This album attempts to confront many harrowing aspects of life, but not with a fearful or anxious mind state, but rather with a respect of how little we understand about the world, and what we can do in our own circles to keep existing without being crushed by worry.
17.) Collapsed in Sunbeams — Arlo Parks
“Wouldn’t it be lovely, to feel something for once?” Arlo Parks asks on ‘Hurt,’ accompanied by a subtle bass and drum groove, as she tells stories of people’s pain and how they cope. The album does this consistently, using fictional characters and situations to depict the mundane ways a given person’s life can go downhill. Her soft voice and poetic phrasing convey the empathy expressed in her music, often attributing the hurt that has been caused and endured by her characters to emotional misunderstandings rather than malice. The production is scarce, with songs seldom consisting of more than the bass/drum/keyboard rhythm section. This lets the singer, and her powerful verses remain the focus without giving up any atmosphere. People are messy creatures that are bound to bump into and scar each other, Arlo Parks posits that being bound for mistakes does not make us irredeemable. Arlo Parks establishes a judgment-free setting for her music, allowing her to dive deeper into nuances like mental health struggles while still retaining her dignity. We feel this in ‘Black Dog’, over the steadily strummed chords that give the tune an ethereal feel, the singer expresses how difficult it can be to watch someone distance purposefully remove themselves from the world. Initially we assume through more obvious methods like suicide, but the song elaborates that our minds cruelty can take many forms, as someone slowly lets themselves wither away holed in their room. She tries to help but finally must accept that people will act however they act, and all we can do is respond. This acceptance lies at the album’s heart, Parks never claims that it is easy to accept the broken or misshapen parts of people, but it is necessary for our survival. The music doesn’t push you to gush about every mistake you’ve made, rather it sits beside you and calmly waits for you to open up, understanding that any step forward in the process of self-love is worth celebrating.
16.) ENTERTAINMENT, DEATH — SPIRIT OF THE BEEHIVE
From the opening seconds of this album, you are subjected to a noisy combination of static and chaotic percussion before it settles into a mellow string-soaked ballad. It feels less like the music is changing pace and more like it is changing form, rediscovering how it wants to be perceived. This works to the album’s credit, letting it constantly surprise its listeners without overstaying its welcome. Each song feels like its own playground, allowing it to express different approaches to the same emotion without needing to adhere too strictly to its form. At its most calm you are treated to tight Indie-Rock musings, but there always bellies a deeper dive. Mixed in with the core rhythm section we hear a plethora of grimy synthesizers help the album maintain an ambient drone that it can bend at its discretion. It’s locked to its own channels, paving paths for its songs to develop before leaving them behind. On ‘THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN’T DO,’ we see affection slip into devotion, the song building toward a wailing climax that feels like the natural progression of its earlier Dance-Pop vibe. It appears SoTB gets the most enjoyment from their meticulously crafted transitions, adjusting the pulleys and levers to the perfect degree to maximize every song’s potential. Individual tracks can become a journey, pushing you toward one alluring soundscape before dropping you into another. Joining these soundscapes are poignant verses about clinging to human connection, the vocals often buried under some static but fighting to pierce through. ENTERTAINMENT, DEATH uses its nightmarish creativity to mold some of the year’s highest points of beauty, ever shifting but never losing itself.
15.) Ice Melt — Crumb
The first thing that drew my ear to Crumb was how often they jam. Since their debut EP release in 2017, the 4-piece band dedicates space in its music for their members to shred, splitting the difference between introspective bops and upbeat dance tracks. On their most current LP, while there was more of a lyrical focus from the band, they made sure to retain instrumental breaks and asides for moments of clarity. There is a Jazz influence to their style, allowing each instrument’s part to feel distinct and balanced. They aren’t afraid to let their songs breathe, allowing the wavy strings and tight percussion to lead the charge for most of the production. Crumb specializes in creating lush atmospheres with lead vocalist Lila Ramani’s spacey vocals hitting your ears like a dream. On ‘Seeds’, wherein the band harkens back to a simpler time, we get the sense that the artists in question feel distant from their earlier incarnations. There is a desire to retreat found throughout the album, as songs deal with feelings of being emotionally overwhelmed or unavailable. While the band has not lost its step musically, their music now carries the weight of knowing its own fragility, possibly a victim of their own exposure. In ‘Gone’ we hear of a person being stripped of her soul and now being a victim of time, waiting for salvation in a world that easily forgets the individual once they have no perceived value. It feels like Crumb itself fears becoming solely a commodity, whose value is constantly being siphoned out and twisted for another’s benefit. Ice Melt then is the band’s answer to that fear, packing their phobias into refined tracks and letting the doubts ooze instead of simply pouring. Instead of leaving the spotlight or hiding more about themselves, Crumb chose to craft its album out of glass, both letting it take obscure shapes and revealing just how hard the artists are concerned about maintaining their integrity.
14.) WINK — CHAI
From the opening synth chords and mellow R&B on ‘Donuts Mind if I Do,’ Chai gets your body moving and doesn’t let it stop. The Quartet from Nagoya, Japan has a goal in mind, having gone on record stating their desire to de-construct Japan’s oppressive beauty standards, wishing to show how limitless women can be. They have always had a punk edge to their music, with previous albums focused more around mixing their core Rock fundamentals with gritty Synth-Pop. Having moved to a new label for this latest album, the band takes the chance to break out and approach their music in new ways, collaborating with western artists and incorporating more genres into their song structures. J-Pop and K-Pop groups tend to get lumped together more aggressively by anyone outside their fandoms, but Chai has never cleanly fit in that space, with their new ideas feeling natural and welcome. The results are frantic songs like ‘END,’ mixing golden era Hip-Hop drum breaks with a fuzzy bassline, where the band shuts down any outside critique with vicious energy. The group embodies freedom, expressing unbridled joy in comfort food, the color pink, and each other. Mind you their desire to push femininity never takes the form of bashing it. Chai allows themselves to be silly, laughing before riffing off each other, wielding “cuteness” less as an aesthetic and more as just another color to paint with. Some artists would overcompensate when changing up their musical palette, but Chai’s vision is unchanged even if their sound has expanded. WINK proves that Chai’s venture into the unknown has just started, while alleviating any doubts that the band was headed anywhere but up.
13.) Cartoon Therapy — Huron John
I would describe Cartoon Therapy as a post-post breakup, containing both brutal self-deprecation brought on by loss and the clarity that space apart from a toxic lover will bring. The stage is all set in ‘Common Ground,’ with Huron John lamenting the fresh departure of his partner, questioning why he let them go. Over bright synths and a funky rhythm, the singer cites moments of their past, highs and lows, but through that revealing ways he was belittled and undermined by the partner in question. Even knowing this he is willing to keep the line open, his love for them being too validating to leave behind entirely. Huron John operates as a one-man band handling all aspects of the music’s creation, freeing him to empty his all on tracks for an extra layer of personal connection. He tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, with lengthy sung verses that often wander into different tangents of his life, revealing a well-intentioned but awkward loner. It can be painful to hear the artist put himself down in moments, but he does to show it is ingrained into who he is, a sentiment I think a lot of people struggle to accept. The artist struggles with being enough on his own, fearing he could be the driving factor in his own isolation. Seemingly to combat this mental state, songs are often colorful and upbeat, giving him some method to move forward despite the toll it takes. The album mentions moments of heightened social anxiety he has experienced, alongside his nature to overpour himself onto his loved ones, things that clearly haunt him. With nothing hidden, it lets songs like ‘Troy Bolton’ hit hard, the chorus of “I really hate who I used to be,” clinging to your skull far after the bubbly tune has ended. The album closes on the note of not needing to keep people in your life because you love them and challenges you to make the tough choices in your own life to heal long term.
12.) LP! — JPEGMAFIA
After dropping his mainstream debut in 2018, JPEGMAFIA (aka Peggy) has carved out a distinct lane for himself with his manic rapping style and uniquely textured production. Attempting his start as a producer in the Baltimore scene, Peggy was forced early on to rap on own instrumentals after it became apparent nobody else would. Since then, he has become a pillar in the blossoming experimental scene, striking the right balance between chaos and direction. His beats have a Frankenstein quality to them, fusing abstract samples to glorious results, leaving listeners in awe of where and how he fits a verse. He invokes many stylings found in modern rappers but always with an off-kilter twist. He still projects a strong masculine Hip-Hop persona but incorporates his vulnerability into all corners of his music. Songs so deeply reflect the artist’s wavelength that elements of production seem random at times, the distorted drums and high-pitched tones on ‘NEMO!’ creating a jarring beat before Peggy emerges with his aggressive energy. LP! is exhausting, containing unfiltered thoughts of violence and longing as the rapper navigates an existential dread that hangs over him every day. This dread becomes another instrument, weaving its tendrils throughout the album chasing Peggy wherever he goes. Transitions on the album feel like haunted radio glitches, skipping on weird beats and stuttering, as if the music itself struggles to follow Peggy. He has created a sound that both fosters his creativity and tries to shield him from the world. The bravado we hear on songs like ‘REBOUND!’ represents the artist’s attempt to conquer his angst, reinforcing his worth to avoid crumbling. The album asks you to access your own happiness, and if you find none, question why that is or where you might have lost it. Peggy exudes a nihilistic confidence but understands he is not exempt from the throes of loneliness, inspiring sympathy rather than pity.
11.) Al Mundo Azul — Mr. Twin Sister
With more than a decade under their belt, Mr.Twin Sister understands how to play the game and craft bops. The 4-piece band from NYC has been honing their craft with a string of stellar releases venturing into Synth Wave, R&B, Funk, and Dream Pop; molding genres to fit snug in their veteran chops. Their socially conscious music often touches on bringing context to moments of nostalgia, running the past their present lens to learn the most from it. On their latest record the band feels more comfortable than ever, featuring more songs in Spanish (not heavily found on their other releases), and a further commitment to pulling you into their pop world. Starting with ‘Fantasy,’ the lead singer calls to us, invoking with her electronic vocals like a chant, supported by steady booming drums and spacey chords. The band offers an invitation to leave our masks at the door and grab their lens, promising not to waste our time. In turn this reflects the albums’ structure, being varied in its funk but concise, with the band understanding where to put what pieces to have the biggest impact. With genres geared toward dance, it can be hard not to sour your welcome with laborious outros or overproduction. The band finds a distinct voice in the saturated masses however, continually finding new ways to make people move. Time and experience seem to be something the band values greatly, they have taken years to explore and grow and want that to be more coveted. The band isn’t afraid to challenge the notion that people age out of music, using ‘Youth Obsessed,’ to bash the continuing practice of exploiting young talent, questioning why youth is somehow seen as the perfect time to be talented. Mr. Twin Sister makes insightful pop that doesn’t compromise on the fun factor, and when mixed with their somber realism, it makes for a shining crown in their already bright catalog.
10.) CALL ME IF YOU GET LOST — Tyler, The Creator
Tyler, The Creator has more than proven his staying power in rap, having gone from the abrasive outsider to a genre staple in his decade long career. During this Tyler has been notably adventurous, using his natural curiosity for other music genres to enhance his skill as a producer. He has spoken in interviews about his self-taught nature in music, with those early seeds morphing into a desire to explore music theory and composition. The artist makes music from the top down, his albums these whole complete statements that seldom leave empty space. CALL ME IF YOU GET LOST gets back into the hard bedrock of Tyler’s beatmaking foundation and uses the prettier embellishments learned on previous albums to create an air of luxury. ‘SIR BAUDELAIRE’ starts with Tyler at the top, rejoicing in his personal health and content with the opportunities he’s now provided daily via his work. As the Song fades we hear the legendary DJ Drama, framed as being his partner in crime for the album, entering Tyler into the covered hall of Drama’s Gangsta Grillz mixtape series. Tyler is living a dream and wants to portray that in a literal fashion, showing he has more than earned his stripes by getting to stand beside an industry staple. It’s a move directed toward dissenters who would still label him an outsider, he forgoes asking permission to be accepted and simply places him in that pantheon. Through his work I think the rapper has made it clear how unfairly he has been judged by both his seniors in Rap and the media. Despite spending a large chunk of his early career under ridiculous scrutiny and prejudice, Tyler’s sheer hunger to succeed never let him quit, which has always driven his career. Starting in ‘CORSO’ we get to see the limits of what Tyler’s talents can bring him, telling us he tried to steal someone’s partner and failed to the tune of his trademark buzzing synths, sparse chords, and crunchy drums. The rapper has never been afraid to be honest, but it’s rare he has had to confront moments of abject failure in his life, so in his narratives he still gets to be a protagonist. On the music climax of ‘Wilshire,’ Tyler faces the reality that there are things he can’t just work hard enough for or earn, a lesson opposite his whole career, and has to choose to drop his pursuit to retain his humanity. Ultimately, he is thankful for what success allows him to do, letting him take care of his family and himself in a way that isn’t feasible to most people. He understands his unique position of fame, drowning in ways to milk its positives whilst simultaneously trying not to fall to its fatal aspects.
9.) Sleeping In — Manwolves
Since discovering the 6-piece band from Chicago in 2018, I have early been awaiting their next album. The genre-bending group melds big crescendos with pieces of Hip-Hop, Rock, and Jazz with their laid back approach to songwriting; with tunes revolving around the joy of the mundane. Manwolves has never framed themselves as superstars, being honest about their desire to break the mold despite their working-class roots. Their latest takes a step back from the more bombastic moments of their previous work and delivers a personal story about seeking connection in an isolated era. The band has thrived in live settings, playing off each other and building toward emotional choruses, but Sleeping In feels lonelier than their previous efforts. As we begin to hear in ‘Deep Diver,’ the bands creative process was affected by the last two years, leading to more hermit like behavior and an erosion between what is real and what is online. To suddenly go from playing shows and feeding off the crowd’s energy to being stuck inside affected the band’s sound and sanity, stifling their range but allowing more time for reflection. Production on this album is sparse, with band members contributions all being pronounced and easily defined, which leads your ear to feel like something is missing. This culminates in ‘Internet Child,’ a wild introduction to a day in the life of the band, complete with poor sleep schedules, doom-scrolling, and burn out. Set to chill guitar chords with bouncy horn lines, the song touches on the band feeling like they can’t trust themselves around people presently, having been robbed of that security by Covid. They treat this as the status quo, which eats away at them until they explode into the song’s life-affirming reminder that we have all had to sacrifice. The group reveled in bringing an exciting twist to everyday life, but when everyday become rote than ever thought possible, they had to make a choice on how to frame their own mental states. The band is tortured, as we hear through the sheer aggression of ‘Fiens,’ but doesn’t want to become another focal point for negativity to gather round, choosing instead to speak their minds (and in turn many of ours) and confront the new normal rather than pretending it does not exist.
8.) Talk Memory — BADBADNOTGOOD
BBNG has cut their cloth on bold improvisation, creating lavish pieces that wring ideas for all they are worth before hitting the next jam. As simple a formula as this may seem the band has spent the past few years re-discovering themselves, having not done any studio recordings since the departure of founding member Matthew Tavares. The band has always been collaborative but retained a strong core to venture out from via its founding members. With that core changing, the band needed time to readjust before feeling comfortable re-emerging as a band. Talk Memory doubles down on their roots, letting improvisation create the structure of the album, making it feel like planned chaos. The group opts not to replace Tavares’ keyboard sound, filling the space instead with beautiful guest string arrangements found throughout the album. If you are longtime fan of the band, the absence is palatable, but ‘Signal from the Noise,’ is a powerful opener that shows the band is still willing to push themselves just as far. As spacey chords erupt into a breakneck chorus, a guitar pieces through with a frantic solo, and suddenly everything feels whole again. According to the band, this album was their smoothest recording process yet even with the help they brought in, and this confidence oozes from the record. After a core idea is laid down, the group fleshes it out with layers of atmosphere, and by the end ever piece feels tailor made for where it is. Solos glide out of the ether then perfectly shift into new phases with the rest of the instrumentation. It’s a remarkably mature direction for the band, dropping much of their pop-tinged production habits in favor of a more abstract worldbuilding. BBNG started out as a band ahead of its contemporaries on concept alone and when forced to conceptualize a vision of what the future would be at a huge crossroads, they choose to commit to a new holistic sound.
7.) Apoptosis — Inner Wave
Apoptosis represents many firsts for the LA-based Indie band, being their first album recorded to tape while half was also recorded in lockdown, resulting in dense moody tracks centering around coping. The band constructs songs around their funky rhythm section, with intricate bass lines combined with synths dripped in reverb to create an interstellar vibe. Once the musical environment is formed, songs usually shrink in scale, focusing on personal relationships or goals, but still maintain the weight of their grandiose production. Quarantine forced the band to re-think what it means for them to connect with their audience and in turn themselves, settling on a hybrid aesthetic of honesty and encouragement. The album starts ‘One in a Million,’ which speaks on the idea that time and experience are needed to maintain healthy relationships, with the admission that they might need more work on themselves. It’s a bittersweet sentiment but framed to show growth should be a natural part of dealing with other people. The album itself is named after the process in which cells die in the human body, an unavoidable part of being alive that affects us every day even if we don’t know it. Given this, Inner Wave chooses to ponder ways they can improve the everyday experience for themselves and loved ones. ‘Fever’ expresses the bands feeling of being trapped, physically in lockdown and emotionally in apathy, powerfully declaring that people exist for a purpose, and finding that purpose is everyone’s right. The chorus rings true but feels more so like a manta being recited to maintain sanity rather than change anyone’s mind. This becomes an enduring strength of the album, as songs never feel they are selling you a vision of the world the bandmates don’t believe in. They fear being forgotten, not being good enough for romantic partners, and wasting more time worrying than living their lives. Inner Wave uses their brand of Synth-Funk to shake off their anxiety about the future, knowing that the end is nigh but vowing to enjoy the ride.
6.) Juno — Remi Wolf
Remi Wolf is a whirlwind shot to Pop music, boasting an outlandish aesthetic, crass lyrics, and no regard for convention. Having made her musical debut in 2019 the up and comer specializes in creating heart pounding bangers that delve into feverish lyrics, carried by her stellar old school soul voice. The persona she embodies is that of a lazy rockstar, complete with all the mess and surrealism that she encounters daily. Having firmly grown up in the internet age, she vibrantly conveys themes of social media overstimulation, struggling with casual affection, and navigating her fear of the uncertain. Her music emulates daydreams, with songs like ‘wyd,’ combining rustic guitar chords with electric variants to occupy two genre-spaces at once. She has the performance strength to always stay at the center of her songs, whether it be in a husky growl or belting aloud, which helps to sell her comically unhinged character. There is an intentional lack of subtlety in the artist’s music as she displays her emotions in as accurate a way as she feels them, loud and abrasive. The vibrancy of the album is impressive but becomes more admirable as you feel Remi Wolf working through painful moments to create this aura. ‘Volkiano,’ sees the artist reflecting on a breakup and it consumes her worldview, making her question her worth and nature, before droning into a chorus of “get out of my head,” set to wailing modular synths. It’s clear everything sticks with Remi, and any experience or thought that burns too brightly must be expressed, or she implodes. Juno feels like a diary given life, chronicling the adventures of a force of nature coming into their own.
5.) Una Rosa — Xenia Rubinos
Una Rosa is a moody slow burn, characterized by its deliberate minimal production and pervasive social focus. Xenia Rubinos directs her eclectic taste toward simpler melodies and strong messages. It still contains her Rock and R&B chops but taking a step back from the humor and heavy Punk energy found on her previous albums to better express her nuanced feelings. She embraces instruments and tools not featured heavily in her music prior, often dripping her voice in autotune that lets her float like a specter over her tracks. Rubinos’ music shines a light on Latino working class struggles, navigating the confusion of existing in two worlds and the disrespect that entails. As we hear in ‘Working All The Time,’ the artist feels trapped in the same cycle she wants her people to be free of, forced to commit energy to a job or cause that doesn’t have her best interest in mind. In addition, having to watch as people around her confuse woke activism with understanding oppressive systems drives her insane. There are a multitude of moments on the album where the artists let her instrumentals move themselves, leaving large gaps without vocal performances and the Afro-Latina beats running uninterrupted. She doubles down on the musical characteristics that help her feel connected in her roots, having become increasingly fed up with the tokenization of her culture. On ‘Don’t Put Me In Red,’ the artist rejects the Carmen based stereotype that Latina women are often pigeonholed into, pointing out the hypocrisy of fetishizing the women while demonizing the men and children. While I would not call her previous albums light, there was a levity to them that has been dropped for Una Rosa to radiate as Rubinos’ manifesto. Many elements on the album exist to personify the artist’s fear and anger; the thick synth bass, distorted belting, and direct critique of policies that hurt her kin all coming together to embody injustice. This is all a lengthy exhausting battle, as we hear in ‘What Is This Voice’, where Xenia sounds her most dejected, running on fumes and unable to get out the words “im so tired”, perpetually left in a position where she must exploit her pain to be taken seriously.
4.) Mood Valiant — Hiatus Kaiyote
The most distinct part of Hiatus Kaiyote’s sound is their unique texture. Incorporating Jazz improvisation, they fill the crevices of their songs with a series of flourishes, giving every tune multiple conversations within itself. After 6 years, the Melbourne-based Neo-Soul group has returned with a somehow expanded palette, building lavish new creations, and leaning deeper into their avant-garde aesthetic. Songs morph from regal funky instrumental grooves to string-laden passages seamlessly, sucking you into their hazy optimism. The album starts with lead singer Nai Palm engaging in an aboriginal custom, the band’s way of establishing their music as sort of neutral ground. As we hear in the poetic verses of ‘Chivalry Is Not Dead,’ the band subscribes to a new-age hippie mentality, pushing forth love as their primary message. Of course, love doesn’t exist in the world in a vacuum, and the band understands the personal resolve that goes into being a loving person. The band covets this path to self-love, we hear in ‘Rose Water’ how this ritual of cleansing is vital to achieving any growth or change in your mindset, urging you on with its thundering percussion and shrill pan flute. Hiatus Kaiyote emanates joy while accepting that it isn’t guaranteed, and their music represents their honest attempts at capturing the pieces of the world that make them happiest. The beautiful chord progressions and tight rhythms are a side effect of them seizing a respective moment, and it feels that’s what this album wants listeners to resonate with. By “Stone Or Lavender’’ the band is ready to leave us on a hopeful note, the ballad ensuring listeners they have potential to rise to the adversity they face, expressing a desire to be full of the very life they have been sharing with us. Mood Valiant is an impressive treat, managing to set a new course for the spirit traveling soul band.
3.) Undeneath — Calicoco
Underneath is a painful record that explores violent depression in the wake of a breakup. From the jump it’s apparent the artist blames themselves for how things turned out, with drone-like verses that loop their biggest fears and failings. We have found the artist gutted, and the production captures the rage they are directing inward. Its opening “I Hate Living With Me,” is a massive wall of sound driven by booming drums and distorted guitar chords, wherein Calicoco pleads for another chance, fearing they won’t survive otherwise. Songs on this album tend to follow an inhale/exhale pattern, like heaving cries, with steady buildups to explosive second halves. Every new song is a fresh wave of wallowing that chokes the artist firmly before giving them a momentary reprieve, an aggressive rocking back and forth that takes its emotional toll. The music is devastating while never inciting pity, Calicoco maintains their honor by keeping the focus on venting and never slandering anyone in their lowest moments. To anyone familiar with mental health struggles, moments of this album will feel like a shot to the heart, a stark mirror that clearly states truths usually too uncomfortable to utter. It’s not until ‘Melancholy’ we get to hear the artist begin to forgive themselves, cathartically changing “why don’t you give up?” to “why don’t you shut up!”, presumably talking to their dark cloud. The breakthrough is fueled by necessity, having crushed themselves with guilt for so long it was either fold or wither away. Guilt consumes Calicoco and steers their sails for a time, but that way of living isn’t sustainable, requiring constant kindling as you burn yourself away. From ‘I Was the Devil,’ they still view themselves as being at fault, but are willing to accept their parting things ending before the feeling lingers on. It’s not a complete resolution, but it’s fitting, leaving listeners with the same pit in their stomach as Calicoco.
2.) Y’all Don’t (Really) Care About Black Women — Melanie Charles
For Melanie Charles Jazz music serves as a conduit for connecting with her heritage. Trained as both a vocalist and flutist she exudes a deep reverence for the genre, mixing classic Jazz recordings and arrangements with her own flair, even using analog samplers to extract the exact moments she wants to revamp. This creates a unique dynamic as she plays off of both the chord progressions and leads of her samples as well as her live band, allowing her to share the stage with artists no longer with us. On Ya’ll Don’t Really (Care) About Black Women she sets her sights on reimaging tunes from legendary black women in Jazz, in equal parts celebration and a desire for reparations. She adds a modern context and depth that expands upon the original themes of songs, like her interjection in ‘Detour Ahead — Reimagined’ about how finding romance was much more complicated than she initially believed. With the new arrangements, even despite how many original sung verses are left clear, the age of songs evaporates, leaving a connected tale of Black Women expressing their pain and uncertainty. Charles understands just how crucial a part music has played in the continued existence of black people, proclaiming the desire to create runs deeper than any singular person. This powerful sentiment leads into the notion of fairly paying artists for their work, as we hear on ‘Pay Black Women Interlude,’ with a live roaring improv session being intercut with various black women talking about ways they often get undercut in the industry. Charles rightfully believes this culture-defining phenomenon we created deserves to be compensated and is not meek in her message. She points out that black women are categorically under-protected yet still expected to be providers and beacons of love and support, even when being mistreated by her own kin. This album is a direct challenge to the idea that there is a singular miracle cure to the oppressive treatment of black women in this country, instead positing that change requires a continued effort and willingness to stop gaslighting the same people you claim to love.
1.) For My Mama And Anyone Who Look Like Her — McKinley Dixon
For every rapper I think there comes a time when they must question their contributions to the genre. Historically the music has been life changing for countless people of color, but also leads to further normalization of toxic masculinity and a reliance on an abusive industry that commodifies them. Attempts to divert from rap often leave artists ostracized unless they have a legacy brand or incredible skill, creating a cycle where it isn’t advantageous to stick their neck out. On ‘Chain Sooo Heavy,’ McKinley Dixon begins to unpack how deeply this stifles the culture, elaborating that a musical path that thrives on glamor and sacrifice cannot be the real path to salvation for any person of color. Unlike many detractors to Hip-Hop however, Dixon has the lived experience to understand the desperation that so many young rappers thrive on and makes sure never to chastise his people for having that motivation. Suiting his atypical approach is his elegant production, which forgoes heavy sampling in favor of a stellar live band that mixes Funk, Neo-Soul, and Jazz to give his verses eclectic pathways to travel. It’s not uncommon for the instrumental in a song to fight Dixon for space, giving the album a push and pull like the hectic up-tempo moments of ‘make a poet Black’. Here as a mandolin shreds over a bouncing bassline, the rapper surfs over it, ever slightly changing his timing to race the instrumental. In practice Dixon wants to show listeners a new direction for Hip-Hop, having spoken in interviews about the inspiration he finds in an artist willing to push boundaries. This admiration is rooted in knowing the individual strength it takes to go against convention, especially when that convention is your own culture. In his most vulnerable moments, such as the beautiful ‘Mama’s House’, the rapper expresses his thanks for upbringing regardless of the trauma inherent in his existence. This speaks to the core of the core of being a minority in America, forever knowing that your art can be stripped of its message, resulting in Dixon choosing to speak to his people directly. The album is a revolutionary call to unlearn a lifetime’s worth of harmful conditioning, advocating for an investment into the mental, physical, spiritual healing of black people.
