Amid a year already filled with blockbuster releases from superstars such as Taylor Swift, Beyoncé and Billie Eilish, sometimes the more innovative and left-of-center albums get pushed to the margins of our monoculture. We’re here to help by shining a light on the latest work from artists who certainly aren’t household names and veterans enjoying a later-career hot streak alike — but only if they were released between Jan. 1 and May 31, 2024. Your mileage may vary, but below, in alphabetical order, are our choices for the best albums of 2024 (so far).

Adrianne Lenker — Bright Future

On Bright Future, Big Thief vocalist/guitarist Lenker wrestles with the big stuff—life and death, sex and loss, seeing your mom cry—on songs so intimately recorded they sound like they were tracked on your back porch. “Vampire Empire” and “Donut Seam” offer definitive versions of long-gestating Big Thief live favorites, but opener “Real House” is the stunner, a trembling memoir-in-song that seems to stop time with its winding reminiscences. Lenker once complained about hearing her songs become playlist fodder in coffee shops, and “Real House” feels like an active rebellion against the norm of passive background listening. — Zach Schonfeld

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Buffalo Tom— Jump Rope

Released on May 31, just in time for this list, Buffalo Tom’s 10th studio album embodies a warm folksy gentleness that the world needs now. Since forming nearly 40 years ago, Buffalo Tom haven’t been the type of band to follow trends, in fact, quite the opposite, seeming to make music in their own special Buffalo Tom World. And from the undeniably indie opening riffs of the album’s first track, “Helmet,” to the warm, sweet final track (“You’re On”), they’ve accomplished a record of uncompromised simplicity—and understated genius. – Liza Lentini

Carpool — My Life in Subtitles

Looking for an emo album that moves from piano ballad to post-hardcore and back in a seamless fashion (aren’t we all…)? Carpool put out the best one of the year so far with this sophomore effort. Tracks such as “I Hate Music,” “Done Paying Taxes” and “Can We Just Get High?” are as much fun as you’ll have in the pop/punk vein this year, while the borderline hardcore “CAR” and the album’s two quietest moments (the title track and closer “Every Time I Think of You I Smile”) sound almost like a different band. My Life in Subtitles is a welcome rollercoaster ride in the best way, expanding far beyond the standard emo/pop-punk suggested by the well-written lead single “Open Container Blues.” – Josh Chesler

Charles Lloyd — The Sky Will Still Be There Tomorrow

The 86-year-old Lloyd’s 51st album as a leader is a celebration of the creative energy that still drives him. Indeed, this expansive double album stands with his best. There are several new takes on old tunes and loving homages to Billie Holiday, Thelonious Monk and Lloyd’s pal from childhood, trumpeter Booker Little (who died in 1961). As he has done throughout his career, he returns to the quartet format here, featuring scintillating interplay from pianist Jason Moran, bassist Larry Grenadier and drummer Brian Blade. But the emphasis is on the now, captured brilliantly in the playful title piece celebrating the majesty of all that sustains and survives us. — Steve Hochman

Chuck Ellis — Brainbox

If Tinashe’s “Nasty” is your summer jam, then Brainbox might just match your freak. This electro-R&B fantasy by L.A. songwriter Ellis luxuriates in a world turned upside down by divorce, abuse and heartache. Ellis, who’s worked with artists as opposite as Ricky Skaggs and Skrillex, knows how to get bodies moving with ear candy such as “Talk It Up” and “Stay Awake 4 Me” (co-created with BloodPop®). But the songs hit on a whole new level when Ellis gets back to his southern roots, as on “Hollow Horses,” which tries to make sense of why religion appeals to those he loves. It’s not for him to judge where anyone gets their fix (sex, drugs, Jesus), but Ellis offers Brainbox to make the ride a little smoother. – Sarah Grant

Four Tet — Three

His profile may have been exponentially elevated thanks to improbable recent sold-out arena and festival gigs with Skrillex and Fred again.., but after 25-plus years in the game, Kieran Hebden is still the same lovably nerdy Brit making thoughtful, emotive electronica for the discerning listener. And although Three is his 12th Four Tet album, it might actually function as the best beginner-friendly primer to Hebden’s sound: crate-diggity drum breaks (“Loved”), exotic string instrument arpeggios dancing around giddy club beats (“Daydream Repeat”) and expansive, synth-powered beauties to thaw your freezer-burned heart (“Three Drums”). Best of all is “Skater,” where winsome electric guitar lines make out at the intersection of bittersweet and bliss. – Jonathan Cohen

Future & Metro Boomin – We Don’t Trust You

This rapper/producer duo has been making hits such as “Mask Off” and “Karate Chop” for more than a decade, but nobody quite expected them to release two distinct full-lengths in 2024. On the first of the pair, numerous hip-hop titans lend a hand, from Kendrick Lamar calling out Drake on “Like That” to Playboi Carti and Travis Scott trading bars on “Type Shit.” Future himself is in a confrontational mood on the title track and “Ain’t No Love,” while late Mobb Deep rapper Prodigy serves almost like an arrogant spirit haunting the proceedings, with his sampled voice often ranting about “corny-ass rappers.” The duo salutes Prodigy one more time by creatively flipping the beat from the Mobb Deep classic “Quiet Storm” on “Seen It All” — a song that makes the convincing claim that Future and Metro are now “seasoned veterans at this shit” who can do and say whatever they want. – Al Shipley

Glitterer — Rationale

Glitterer was originally a solo project for Title Fight’s Ned Russin, and his first full-length as a band is so timeless that it sounds like it could have been made in 1994 or 2024. Russin may have cut his teeth in Title Fight, but Rationale sees him digging deeper into his shoegaze and post-hardcore pedigree to create something that exists outside of any particular “scene.” “Can’t Feel Anything” finds the bassist/vocalist embracing his vulnerabilities over a sea of distortion and hypnotic instrumentation, while “It’s My Turn” is a keyboard-laden rocker that, like much of Rationale, is deceptive in its simplicity. – Jonah Bayer

Grandaddy — Blu Wav

It’s been 24 years since Grandaddy released their breakthrough album The Sophtware Slump, but you wouldn’t know it listening to Blu Wav. Indeed, group leader Jason Lytle might sound better now than when the group supported Elliott Smith back in the early 2000s, and his falsetto has never been more haunting than on meditations on loneliness such as “Long As I’m Not the One.” Elsewhere, arpeggiated keyboards and lap steel co-exist in perfect harmony on “Cabin In My Mind,” which evokes Grandaddy’s signature sound without feeling limited by it. – J.B.

Hot Water Music — Vows

On their 10th album, It would be understandable for Hot Water Music to rehash the Gainesville, Fl., punk sound they helped invent, but instead, they’ve transcended it. From the melodic grandeur of opener “Menace” to the syncopated sweetness of  “Chewing on Broken Glass,” the album showcases how much range the band has developed over the past three decades. Hell, there’s even a full-on ballad (“After the Impossible”) where guitarist/vocalist Chuck Ragan duets with City and Colour’s Dallas Green for a song destined for punk rock proms. – J.B.

Hurray for the Riff Raff — The Past Is Still Alive

With its wordy compositions, live-band crackle, and no-frills acoustic palette, The Past Is Still Alive recaptures the verve of Alynda Mariposa Segarra’s earlier, twangier albums. But it’s only superficially a return to form, even if it does come after two albums that more-than-gently nudged the artist’s music in new directions. Play these new ones blind, and Segarra’s tales of jumping trains, evading the police, assembling chosen families and trading songs around campfires will hit hard. Heard in the context of that dense, diverse back catalog, however, Past takes on the scope and impact of a Great American Novel. Just give Segarra a damn Pulitzer already. – Stephen Deusner

Jon McKiel — Hex

McKiel writes songs like philosophical treatises, pondering ecological decay, existential jitters and the fate of humanity in an increasingly digitized world. Sounds like a blast, right? But Hex has the power of an actual hex, thanks to the way the Canadian singer/songwriter and co-producer Jay Crocker (JOYFULTALK) bend odd samples, akimbo beats and snaking guitar lines into weird shapes that carry the echo of folk music, tropicalia, exotica and various strains of pop. It’s an album heavy with vibe, simultaneously hypnotic and askew, drawing you in to keep you beautifully off balance. – S.D.

Kamasi Washington — Fearless Movement

With Movement, this acclaimed saxophonist and composer furthers the glorious quest to develop new jazz languages he began with his ambitious, aptly titled 2015 triple album The Epic. This one starts in a different language (a prayer in the ancient Ethiopian language Ge’ez) before Washington and his dazzling collective band the West Coast Get Down revisit The Epic’s dense celestial echoes of Sun Ra, Alice Coltrane and other major influences. It moves through vibrant celebrations and styles from there, offering a genre-transcending continuum from gospel to jazz-choral to hip-hop to funk to fusion. Best of all, the music here is an invitation to dance. — S.H.

Mannequin Pussy — I Got Heaven

By the start of last year, we already knew I Got Heaven was going to be something special. Mannequin Pussy made it very clear in their lunch with us that they weren’t playing around anymore, and they clearly followed through. Their fourth album is their most diverse, complicated, messy and (arguably) meaningful, trading the tightly wound punk rock of Romantic and Patience for a more evolved and sweeping sound. Thankfully, it’s been done without losing the edge, authenticity and intelligence that has made them one of the best bands around. I Got Heaven is an emotionally complicated album running the gamut of feelings from lust and love to anger and hatred. Plus, who else could pull off the line “what if Jesus himself ate my fucking snatch?” – Josh Chesler

Mary Timony — Untame the Tiger

Indie rock lifer Timony (Helium, Wild Flag) wrote her first solo album in 15 years during a rough period that included the dissolution of a relationship and the deaths of both her parents. The lyrics, understandably, get a little heavy: “In the end, loneliness, I guess you’ve been a friend / Am I driven to emptiness, or does it just come to me?,” she sings on “The Guest.” As always, Timony’s guitar playing makes even her saddest songs a joy to absorb, whether it’s an expressive slide lead on “The Guest” or the Tom Verlaine-style vibrato on the expansive six-minute opener “No Thirds.” Legendary British drummer Dave Mattacks (Fairport Convention, Steeleye Span) plays on a few songs, enhancing Untame the Tiger’s contemplative ‘70s psych-rock grandeur. – Al Shipley

Mdou Moctar — Funeral for Justice

Moctar is one of the more fascinating characters to come onto the rock scene in recent years — a self-taught guitar virtuoso from Niger who has been described as playing with the charisma of Jimi Hendrix while conjuring a heady brew of punk, Arabic and African music. What’s more, the cathartic joy of songs such as “Imouhar,” “Sousoume Tamacheq” and the title track comes in startling contrast to their messages, which urge Moctar’s Tuareg brethren to continue fighting against oppression and for the preservation of their dwindling heritage. There’s something at once ancient, sacred and ultra-modern going on here, and it’s a welcome psych-rock rallying cry against the imperialistic assholes with whom we can never seem to dispense. – Jonathan Cohen

Nathalie Joachim — Ki moun ou ye

“Who are you?” Nathalie Joachim asks, in Haitian kreýol, on the title track of this arresting album. That question sparks an intimate, urgent exploration by this Haitian/American composer, singer, musician and activist into her own identity. More questions follow (“Whose names are these?” “Who once owned us?”) as skittering electronic accompaniment heightens the charge. Joachim’s artistry is rooted equally in Haiti, her Brooklyn upbringing and her classical training. On the deeply yearning “Kenbe m,” she weaves in the voice of her late grandmother singing a hymn that translates roughly as “Thank you for holding my hand in yours.” And with that, one of the year’s most creatively and personally ambitious albums becomes one of its most moving. — S.H.

Pearl Jam — Dark Matter

These Seattle rock standard-bearers haven’t sounded this consistently vital on record since 2006’s self-titled album, a fact attributable to the spontaneity with which this material was written and quickly put to tape with superfan producer Andrew Watt. Eddie Vedder and company also openly nod to their sonic past more than ever before, with the tense, huge-sounding title cut, the riff-driven, groovy Ten-era throwback “Waiting for Stevie” and the chiming earworm “Wreckage” leaping to life straight off of grunge’s back pages. Watt’s shiny, compression-heavy production takes some getting used to, but thanks to songs as superlative as opener “Scared of Fear” and the Police/Devo homage “React, Respond,” Dark Matter is a bright light in the barren wilderness of 21st century rock’n’roll. – Jonathan Cohen

Ride — Interplay

Ride were forerunners in the ‘90s shoegazer scene, but blazed out too quickly. Their restart in 2014 has worked out very well for the British group, resulting in some of their strongest material. On Interplay, the third album post reformation, Ride’s intense walls of guitar sound show up now and then, but that’s not the defining characteristic as it has been in the past. Instead, they explore strings and synths, leaving some breathing room, most notably on opener “Peace Sign” and closer “Yesterday Is Just a Song.” Where previous Ride albums found new heights during live performances, Interplay is best suited for solitary listening. – Lily Moayeri

Shakira — Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran

Following a public breakup with longtime partner Gerard Piqué, the Colombian pop icon channeled her fury and resilience into an LP whose title translates in English to Women No Longer Cry. On heartbreaking ballads such as “Monotonía” and “Última,” she opens up about the dissolution of their relationship amid reports of infidelity. Shakira also joins forces with Argentine producer Bizarrap for the searing “BZRP Music Sessions #53,” where she tears into Piqué and his new girlfriend with clever wordplay. Then, through the surge of feel-good pop on the Cardi B-assisted “Puntería” and “Cohete” featuring Rauw Alejandro, Shakira reveals she is back on the prowl for romance. – Lucas Villa

Shannon and the Clams — The Moon Is in the Wrong Place

Once you hear the story of what inspired this album—frontwoman Shannon Shaw’s fiancé, Joe Haener, dying in a terrible accident—you might think you know what to expect. However, as I said in my May feature aligned with the album’s release, there is nothing funereal about this album. Rather, Shannon and her trusted friends/bandmates chose to create a collection of songs to honor Joe’s life (hence, the undeniably joyful “Bean Fields”). That said, smack dab in the middle of the tracklist lies “Real or Magic,” a certifiable gut-wrencher, and possibly one of the best singles of the year. – L.L.

The Last Dinner Party – Prelude to Ecstasy

Glamour and grandeur are the tentpoles for the Last Dinner Party’s irresistible melodies and sly lyricism, as the songs here are less about love and more focused on sexual encounters. A cleverly crafted amalgamation of aural and visual, the Last Dinner Party is musical theater and perfect pop. The lyrics beg to be acted out, with Abigail Morris’ gorgeous vocals serving as conductor. Case in point from “Caesar on a TV Screen”: “And just for a second, I could be one of the greats / I’ll be Caesar on a TV screen, champion of my fate.” Dramatic and polished, Prelude to Ecstasy is on repeat. – L.M.

The Libertines — All Quiet on the Eastern Esplanade

If you read our April feature on The Libertines, it’s clear the notorious post-punkers are in a new, comparatively subdued phase of adulthood. All Quiet on the Eastern Esplanade, their fourth studio album, reflects an undeniable musical maturity, but they haven’t lost the piss and vinegar (I say this with love) that defined them as a band from the beginning. Songs like “Night of the Hunter” tell a raw and beautiful story in edgy, creative melody, while the song that precedes it, “Oh Shit,” reminds us they’ll forever be garage-band hooligans. Some (like me) could easily argue this is the band at their best. – L.L.

The Smile — Wall of Eyes

After emerging in 2021 as a Radiohead side project, the Smile have proven a sterling standalone band and then some. Season two of the Jonny, Thom and Tom show is lush, brilliantly layered and brimming with daring transformations. Booming, bouncing dub leads to a Krautrock cruise (“Read the Room”), rhumba rhythmics dissolve into celestial Eno (“Under Our Pillows”) and at the album’s apex, minimalist genteel jazz gives way to Hendrix fronting My Bloody Valentine (“Bending Hectic”). Radiohead’s status is now a moot point, since clearly these legends are having the time of their lives. Just join in already. – Jonathan Rowe

Waxahatchee – Tigers Blood

Tigers Blood, Katie Crutchfield’s latest album as Waxahatchee, grows more magical with every listen, with infectious melodies that evoke a warm summer day in the South. The record is a sweet yet sad reflection on relationships, family dynamics and the passing of time. From her mesmerizing duet with alt-country star MJ Lenderman on the love song “Right Back to It,” to the stunning slide guitar-led ballad “Crimes of the Heart,” Crutchfield has crafted some of the best work of her career. – Tatiana Tenreyro

Faye Webster — Underdressed at the Symphony

Nobody makes the post-breakup haze sound as elegant as Webster. Across 10 mordantly funny vignettes, the songwriter flirts with contradictory desires (“But Not Kiss”), drowns her grief in eBay therapy (“eBay Purchase History”), cries at the local orchestra (“Underdressed at the Symphony”) and embraces little pleasures to keep the sadness at bay (“Feeling Good Today”). She also luxuriates in a mini-symphony of her own on lush, beautiful slow-burners like “Thinking About You” and “Lifetime,” which stretch out her sound into a kind of expansive, soft-rock melancholy. — Z.S.

Willow — Empathogen

As the daughter of two movie stars, Willow Smith has grown up in the spotlight and seemed poised for pop stardom since her 2010 debut single “Whip My Hair.” Instead, she’s since embarked on a restlessly exploratory career, drifting from neo-soul to punk/pop. On her sixth solo album, Smith and frequent collaborator Chris Greatti pivot once again, from power chords to math-y, complex arrangements full of jazzy piano and a more nuanced, relaxed vocal style. Even Empathogen’s biggest hooks on “Big Feelings” and “Symptom of Life” ping pong around trippy 7/8 rhythms. Although guest spots from St. Vincent and Jon Batiste add a new element, Smith stakes out new creative territory that doesn’t quite sound like what anybody else is doing right now. – A.S.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Somehow, it’s already June, and in our world, that means festival season is off and running. It’s also a good time to take stock of all the music we’ve liked (so far) in 2023. For the sake of this list, we’re only counting projects released between Jan. 1 and June 1, 2023, which means a number of great June 2 albums didn’t make the cut. Here, in alphabetical order, are our choices for the best albums of 2023 (so far).

Altın Gün, Aşk

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Altın Gün’s first two albums radiated the glow of its spaced-out live show, with the sextet reanimating traditional Turkish songs via conga-heavy funk grooves and psychedelic guitars. During pandemic isolation, it found a new path forward, integrating computers and drum machines for 2021’s Yol and Âlem. But it was hard not to miss the full-vintage, on-the-floor feel — a concern rectified on the Dutch/Turkish outfit’s fifth LP, Aşk, which sprinkles in some thrilling new sounds (the ambient pedal-steel twinkle of “Güzelliğin on Para Etmez,” the stoner-metal-like intro of “Rakıya Su Katamam”). — Ryan Reed

Buy Ask on Amazon 

Black Belt Eagle Scout, The Land, The Water, The Sky

Katherine Paul, who performs as Black Belt Eagle Scout, cements her place as one of the most exciting young indie voices on The Land, The Water, The Sky. She honors her Swinomish roots with a stunning portrait of her native ancestry, capturing both the trauma and beauty of her Canadian homeland and the nearby Skagit River. Lush guitars, strings, and mellotron evoke the clashing serenity and tension on songs such as “On the River” and “Sedna,” while the connection to home is driven further by the presence of her parents’ voices on the penultimate track “Spaces,” with her father’s booming chant closing the song. — Tatiana Tenreyro

Buy The Land, The Water, The Sky on Amazon 

Brian Dunne, Loser on the Ropes

Singer/songwriter Brian Dunne carries on the great American tradition of writing a love letter to New York City after it mentally annihilated him for a decade. Loser on the Ropes is full of personality crises, subway epiphanies, and layered melodies as irresistible as the smell of a bacon, egg, and cheese wafting from the bodega at 3 AM. The album glides on an enveloping, full-body-chills sound a la the War on Drugs and the National, except neither of those bands ever admitted to having a “Schopenhauer era” (track seven: “The Optimist”). Dunne’s songs are almost always about people hiding their pain, holding themselves back, and/or suffering in silence. “What you gonna do, sit around and die?” he asks on “Rockaway.” “Or grab yourself a bagel and say alright?” As every New Yorker knows, there’s nothing a carbohydrate can’t solve. — Sarah Grant

Buy Loser on the Ropes on Amazon 

Cécile McLorin Salvant, Mélusine

In 14th-century French mythology, Mélusine was half-woman/half-snake who was betrayed by her lover, turned into a dragon, and flew away. Mélusine is half French chanson/half idiosyncratic art song, which in its course reveals its own soaring majesty. With three Grammys and a MacArthur “Genius” Award to her name, Salvant has already far transcended her early status as her generation’s most imaginative and thrilling jazz interpreter. To portray this fantastical tale, she goes further, ranging from 12th-century troubadour ballads to a song from the obscure ‘70s Canadian rock musical Starmania (and a few originals), sung mostly in French, Haitian Kreyol, and even the ancient Occitan tongue. Salvant’s music isn’t just about juxtaposition — it’s about synthesis and transformation, just like Mélusine. — Steve Hochman

Buy Mélusine on Amazon 

Cheat Codes, One Night in Nashville

Country music and EDM make strange bedfellows, and fusions of the two tend to be campy culture clashes like Zac Brown’s “folktronica” side project Sir Rosevelt. Thankfully, Los Angeles trio Cheat Codes has found an unlikely sweet spot between pop-country balladry and dancefloor euphoria. One Night in Nashville is a weird melting pot record where Russell Dickerson name-drops Third Eye Blind over a trop house groove on “I Remember,” and big beats and banjos share space with Dolly Parton on “Bets on Us.” Sticky melodies and lovelorn lyrics, however, are what really bind all the steel guitars and rave synths together. — Al Shipley

Buy One Night in Nashville on Amazon 

Conway the Machine, Won’t He Do It

Won’t He Do It furthers the Griselda Records tradition of classic ‘90s NYC street rap à la Jadakiss, Biggie, or Raekwon, boiled to its essence and served as chill as drill rappers are loud. In-house tunesmith Daringer carries the LP with beats that seem half-finished but never feel that way, many without drums at all. It’s an open-stage approach perfect for Conway’s frame-worthy bars and the lucid dream-raps of brother Westside Gunn (see the savage “Brucifix”). When percussion does show up, it’s often the wonderfully abnormous and clunky kind (“Stab Out” and “Brick Fare”), prone to causing involuntary head nods and mean faces. Packed with great new ways to describe cocaine, heavy weapons, and wealth, Won’t He Do It, despite its limited subject matter, remains intriguing and intelligent throughout. — Jonathan Rowe

Buy Won’t He Do It on Amazon 

Commuter, No Longer Penitent

There’s a dark undercurrent to contemporary life — a multifaceted sense of despair. We’re all both more connected and siloed than ever in a world teetering on a knife’s edge, and the human toll can be humbling. Portland, Ore.’s Jackson Abdul-Salaam, recording as Commuter, has taken this as his great theme. No Longer Penitent is a patchwork of field recordings and raw noise salvos that are less about storytelling than bad vibes. You’ll hear voices rattling around the edges of, say, “Two Mattresses Dragged Beneath the Freeway. Emotionally Comatose,” but this isn’t the (more literalized) dystopian drawl-trawl of Josh Peterson’s Collected Voice, Text and Tape Works. Rather, Abdul-Salaam’s music is like some unfathomable Möbius strip loop of breaking glass, burning metal, and ear-spiking frequencies — a psychic mirror held to a societal bad day unlikely to end anytime soon. — Raymond Cummings

Demira, Iggy

Can’t wait for Rosalia’s follow-up to Motomami? Might we suggest Demira, a Dutch grad student by day, producer-poet-guitar mastermind by night, who has fused these worlds into a marvel of a debut. Iggy is a creation myth that unwinds like a kaleidoscope pointed at her restless heart. Demira has a beguiling ability to combine the most unlikely references — classical Indian instruments (“Dismas”), The Birth of Venus (“Cheap Date”), slinking Depeche Mode synths (“Two Halves of a Whole”), and Diet Coke for breakfast (“Salai”) — into heady treasures that could also light up a dance floor in Ibiza. The standout is “Metropolis,” a jaw-dropping invocation of anguish that asks, “Haven’t our lives been organized around disappointing male desire?” Except she’s not really asking. — SG

Dinner Party, Enigmatic Society

Another dazzling melange of jazz, hip-hop, and R&B from genre titans Terrace Martin, Kamasi Washington, and Robert Glasper, Enigmatic Society works equally well in a two-drink-minimum nightclub setting as it does in a Coachella tent. “Insane” featuring Ant Clemons is a smoky, sax-colored ode to love so good that it’s bad for you, while vocalist Arin Ray shines on Soulquarian-style jams such as “Breathe” and “For Granted.” Dinner Party’s collective mastery of groove and atmosphere is best heard on “The Lower East Side,” as Washington’s saxophone dances around a synth bass line not far removed from Beverly Hills Cop territory. — Jonathan Cohen

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Fall Out Boy, So Much (for) Stardust

With all the When We Were Young Fest-fueled nostalgia for mid-2000s emo in the air, it’s not surprising that shrewd survivors like Fall Out Boy would look to their past in 2023. Instead of mimicking its hit-making heyday, the band’s eighth album picks up where 2008’s brilliant flop Folie a Deux left off, with a set of bombastic, occasionally funky arena rock anthems. Whether evoking ‘80s Cure with the chorus pedal riff on “Fake Out” or enlisting the London Metropolitan Orchestra to provide disco strings on “What a Time To Be Alive,” So Much (for) Stardust flexes Fall Out Boy’s diverse tastes without the EDM sheen of its uneven 2010s albums. — AS

Buy So Much (for) Stardust on Amazon 

Feist, Multitudes

It’s always refreshing when a great artist surprises us. Leslie Feist, consistently uncompromised, takes us on her epic Odyssey in Multitudes, as only she can do it. Written at a time of great change in her own life, the album reflects a stormy sea of emotions as she navigates some of the greatest gifts and heartbreaks of humanity: life and death. Feist has always told us musical stories that are big, even when they’re stunningly quiet. This time — and we’ll never know how — her personal inspiration is still so universal. — Liza Lentini

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Fever Ray, Radical Romantics

A wide-ranging celebration of queer love, Radical Romantics ranges from the thrill of craving sensual touch to seeking revenge on a bully. Karin Dreijer transports us to a delightfully seedy nightclub, where even the shyest of patrons would get sweaty with gorgeous strangers amid the pulsating beats of songs such as “Shiver” and “Kandy.” It’s sleazier than the Deep Cuts era of Dreijer’s beloved other group the Knife, while also feeling sweeter, with plenty of heart beating under the desire. With so much discourse surrounding the indie sleaze revival, this might be the release that best fits the movement’s resurgence, showing that the new iteration can have substance while still being fun and lascivious. – TT

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Gloss Up, Before the Gloss Up

GloRilla was southern rap’s breakout rookie of 2022, storming the industry with four other hungry Memphis rappers known collectively as Glitter Gang. The quartet landed a radio hit with the cheerleader chant “Shabooya,” and Gloss Up quickly established herself as a potential solo star on her debut project for Quality Control. Before the Gloss Up updates old school Memphis crunk with hammering beats by Twysted Genius and Hitkidd, but Gloss Up’s blithe shit talk is the main attraction: “I’ve been sending attachments but hell nah, I can’t get attached/ My money is unmatched, got my Coach on mix-matched/ I’ve been flexing on these hoes, where the hell my six-pack?” — AS

GoGo Penguin, Everything Is Going To Be Okay

This prolific U.K. piano/bass/drums trio has always been rooted in an adventurous jazz sound, but the arrival of new stickman Jon Scott has pushed its latest music to different and exciting places. At once tense and meditative, songs such as “Friday Night Film Special” and “Glow” were born from long jams and recall the more cinematic side of Endtroducing-era DJ Shadow. Elsewhere, subtle synths add warmth to the pointillist melodies of “Glimmerings” and “Saturnine,” while the title track and “Parasite” offer head-nodding, polyrhythmic delights. Beyond the music itself, any group with the balls to haul a grand piano into rock clubs on a nightly basis in 2023 is surely worth your time and attention. — JC

Buy Everything Is Going To Be Okay on Amazon 

Greg Pope, It Goes Without Saying

This debut album from this London-born, Norway-based polymath is a mildly theatrical blend of the solemn and the beatific. A swirl of unconventional instrumentation, field recordings, tape edits, and Pope’s abstracted monologues, It Goes Without Saying bears a singular outsider energy, and playing it through can feel like surfacing unaware in a remix of a stranger’s benign daydreams. “Shot Film” collates cuts and jumps, as though a needle was hopping around on a live, blank LP. On “Dipping the Bells,” guest carillonneur Laura Marie Rueslåtten accompanies samples of rushing water and birdsong. “The margins are small when the bed dries the wetter,” Pope riddles on the title track, as glass surfaces sing, effects scuffle and quicksand pools await opportunities to suck on his voice like vacuum cleaners. — RC

Illiterate Light, Sunburned

Harrisonburg, Va. duo Illiterate Light’s Sunburned is shrouded in distortion, with frontman Jeff Gorman’s voice often bathed in reverb, and his guitars and basslines caked in fuzz. The Neil Young-influenced band’s second album has the dark and desolate vibe of Young’s “Ditch Trilogy” era, occasionally brightened by the chiming chords of “Light Me Up” or the dryly funny lyrics of “Fuck LA.” Drummer Jake Cochran really brings Gorman’s saddest songs to life, though, pummeling his kit with Bonham-esque grooves that dance around the psychedelic ear candy, and building “Heaven Bends” from syncopated synth pop to a cathartic climax that feels like a bad trip. — AS

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John Davis, My Hope Is Found In a God Who Can Raise Up the Dead

A mid-’90s alt progeny of the Big Star and Hüsker Dü mold, Superdrag and Lees of Memory frontman John Davis survived the MTV Buzz Bin to become one of power pop’s strongest, most consistent songwriters. Though obviously gospel-informed, My Hope Is Found… remains mindfully gentle with its message, and accessible to everyone. Playing every instrument straight to tape in an all-analog production approach, Davis explores styles from ’60s Detroit R&B (“I Should’ve Known”) to ’70s Beach Boys, solo McCartney, jazz-brushed Elliott Smith (“Sunny Climes”), and even holy shoegaze (“You Never Let Me Go”). Lest people keep forgetting Jesus was a societal castoff who shunned the church of man, Davis describes the album as an expression of “the real Gospel … not the gospel of guns, hatred for migrant people and the LGBTQ+ community.” — JR

Kaytraminé, s/t

On first listen, the long-awaited collaborative album from producer Kaytranada and rapper Aminé is somewhat overshadowed by high-profile guests such as Freddie Gibbs, Snoop Dogg, and Pharrell Williams, whose chorus hook on the strutting “4EVA” adds a little sweetness to otherwise questionable lyrics (“I’m starin’ at your eyes but you starin’ at my lips / You talkin’ ’bout your momma but you thinkin’ ’bout my dick”). Thankfully, Kaytranada’s sample-heavy productions, which dip into everything from tropicalia and the obscure ’70s U.K. jazz group Both Hands Free to the R&B-dominated 1997 Love Jones soundtrack, elevate the material into ideal summer backyard BBQ territory. — JC

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Lana Del Rey, Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd.

Pop’s high priestess of benzodiazepine noir dispenses potent doses on her ninth album. Of its 16 songs, track, “A&W,” aka American whore, is the most psychoactive in its deft transformation from lush acoustic ballad to squalid trap hop. It’s an accomplished and sensual shift, but, like the narrative itself (which tracks the numb abandon of the used), the prettiness of the tune and its movements is inseparable from its nihilism. Even lighter-toned tracks such as opener “The Grants” (Del Rey’s given name is Elizabeth Grant) are discreet exercises in subversion, and early intimations towards wholesomeness via girlhood, family, and even John Denver soon gently warp into smiling futility. — Matt Thompson

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Majesties, Vast Reaches Unclaimed

The best new Swedish metal band is from … Minneapolis? With a modern discipline, Majesties’ debut record worships Gothenburg’s 1990s melodic death metal sound, where bitter, sun-deprived harshness meets Iron Maiden’s melodies. The group embraces the twists and turns found in early At the Gates and In Flames, yet is remarkably to-the-point without succumbing to bland commercialization that plagued Gothenburg later on. Considering that many “new” old school bands try to be as boneheaded as Mortician and fail, it’s welcome to see songcraft, melody, and emotion reign supreme on a death metal album such as Vast Reached Unclaimed. — Andy O’Connor

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Matty, EIS O HOMEM

From groundbreaking jazz trio BADBADNOTGOOD, which he co-founded, to Kendrick Lamar and Rosalia, for whom he’s written songs, Matthew Tavares has put his unique creative stamp on a dizzying array of music over the past decade. However, the essence of Tavares the human being has never been quite as wonderfully apparent as on this latest solo release under the Matty moniker (he wrote, produced, performed, mixed, engineered, and mastered the entire thing). The title track subverts the melody of George Harrison’s “What Is Life” into a bongo-infused, stoned campfire jam, while “Eu Pergunto Isso a Vocé” and “Ao Luar” seem time-warped from a Windham Hill acoustic guitar record circa 1982, and “Meu Coracao No Seu” starts in lo-fi bedroom territory before morphing into 45 seconds of alternate-universe reggaeton. ¡Dios mío! — JC

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Nickel Creek, Celebrants

No one could have faulted Nickel Creek for playing their latest reunion a bit safe: resurrecting their fan-favorite prog-grass on tour, cracking out a familiar-sounding LP when schedules allowed, and then scurrying back to their respective careers. Instead, the trio wrote and recorded a giddily ambitious fifth album, Celebrants, which blows past all of the previous work, including 2014 predecessor A Dotted Line. It’s all here: breathtaking instrumental interplay between mandolin, guitar, and fiddle (“Going Out”). pitch-perfect harmonies (“The Meadow”), and tear-streaked choruses for introspective car rides (“Stone’s Throw”). See ya in another nine years. — RR

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Obituary, Dying of Everything

Obituary’s astonishing consistency belies the continuing growth of the Tampa, Fla. death metal legends, who are not only one of metal’s tightest live bands but who have also remained true to themselves while not growing stale. More than a decade after joining, guitarist Kenny Andrews remains a blistering foil for Trevor Peres and his sludgy riffage, piercing Obituary’s swampy murk with electrifying leads. Peres isn’t coasting on old glory and ragged Blue Grape merchandise either: he’s deeper in the grooves than ever, and relishing their intoxicating power. Vocalist John Tardy, thankfully, still sounds like John Tardy. — AOC

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Primitive Knot, Undying Lands

Primitive Knot’s loopy industrial metal has emphasized the latter half of that fusion lately (last year’s Ur Metal was practically the best Ministry album in decades). With Undying Lands, the Manchester, U.K.-based outfit has gone even further with red-hot mechanical brutality, adding in a healthy dose of mid-paced Celtic Frost riffage. Scaling back the velocity works on tracks like “Into The Mouth of Madness” and the “OUGH!”-worthy “Hour of the Wolf,” with unfeeling, slamming percussion fortifying the guitars’ hammering thud. At this rate, Primitive Knot will bring back performing in front of chainlink fences. — AOC

Quest Master, Sword & Circuitry

Dungeon synth, like the black metal from which it spawned, usually eschews fidelity. Australia’s Quest Master rushes the genre towards the sunlight with Sword & Circuitry, revealing new dimensions in a walled-off sound. Through emphasizing percussion, Quest Master makes a massive leap forward, transforming serene keyboard melodies into righteous crusades. “Cerulean Depths” goes from icy seance to an adventurer’s call when the drums kick in, and the propulsive beats of “Hanging Garden of Chrome” could fit next to any Skinny Puppy track on a goth club dancefloor. Sword & Circuitry is not bound by nostalgia for a made-up medieval time — it is its own fantastical world. — AOC

Ryuichi Sakamoto, 12

The Japanese composer recorded 12 late as mortality closed in towards the end of a near decade-long dance with cancer. Released in January, two months before his death, 12 is not a morbid hour. It walks, rather, along aural trails of grace and awe. Some tracks, cue “20211201,” are lighter and airier than others, but even fuller, lusher pieces such as “20220214” hint at an empty tomb rather than one of packed soil and decay. — MT

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Rx Papi, Dawg Storm

Perpetually blurring the line between real-life tales of peddling drugs and getting shot while growing up in Rochester, N.Y., and a rich concoction of storytelling for storytelling’s sake, Rx Papi may simply be a bit too much for many listeners. Get past the waving guns around on Instagram Live, though, and you’ll find an extraordinarily talented rapper just trying to make it through life one day at a time, be it by favorably comparing himself to Ray Charles (“Smacc Man”), besting the competition with the help of longtime collaborator RXK Nephew (“Chinese Restaurant”), or inventing an absurd, weed-selling alter-ego who drinks fountain Coke on ice — and most definitely doesn’t give free samples (“Zaza Man”). — JC

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Ruston Kelly, The Weakness

It’s easy to tell when an artist makes the leap from “talented and could make it” to “finally arrived,” and that’s what Ruston Kelly has done on The Weakness. Following a difficult beginning to the decade that saw him leave both his marriage and Nashville, the singer/songwriter hunkered down and got to work on music — and himself. “Let Only Love Remain” looks back without recriminations at his divorce from Kacey Musgraves, while the gentle confessional “The Mending Song” finds Kelly finally at peace with himself while dealing with the pain that has encompassed most of his adult life. Not everything is serious, as “Michael Keaton” showcases the humorous side of a talented artist who is rightfully getting his due. — DK

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Skourge, Torrential Torment

Members of Houston crossover quintet Skourge have fairly large outside commitments — guitarist Jacob Duarte and drummer Carson Wilcox play in alt-rock revivalists Narrow Head, and vocalist Seth Gilmore also sings in Fugitive. Yet the group has still managed to drop an extinction-level event with Torrential Torment. The title track’s cranked chug bass intro alone is harder than 99% of metal this year, and once the rest of the band kicks in? Your face and the concrete are basically close friends at that point. The re-recorded live staple “Freedom Denied,” whose original version dates back to 2016, is straight-up demented, with guitars violently swirling and crisscrossing against each other. Basically, if Morbid Angel’s “Rapture” was on Merauder’s Master Killer — yeesh! Texas above all. — AOC

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Sleaford Mods, UK Grim

Bitter rants. Beats. Throbs. Snide remarks. Corroded funk. Punk-hop. Post-punk. Post-hope. Fractured tales. Envy. Blame. Self-loathing. Rage. Munt music. Turn it up and dance like you just don’t care, in a room full of someone else’s precious breakables. Break dance. Rat dance. Munt dance. Who cares. Don’t listen to UK Grim if you don’t like mangey Englishmen cussing about how bleeping bleep everything is. No one here wants you to see the light. But if you are a bit of a munt, then turn it the fuck up and twitch. — MT

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Sunny War, Anarchist Gospel

Having gone from high school acoustic DIY punk to homeless Venice boardwalk busker to acclaimed folk/blues-rooted singer/songwriter, Sunny War flings poison-tipped arrows on her startlingly personal new album — many pointing right at her, some already having found flesh. Largely written in her Los Angeles apartment with the lights off and empty bottles surrounding her after a breakup, the songs grapple with depression, addiction, and love’s death, yet are inviting in their darkness. The tone is set with opener “Love’s Death Bed,” its gloom floating on cascades of deft fingerpicking and spirited, gospel-like call-and-response with a chorus including guest Allison Russell. The mix of frank emotions and engaging tones continues throughout, from spritely group sings to muted solitary contemplation. There’s fire too: a cover of Ween’s “Baby Bitch” features a children’s chorus (in truth, three adult men with voices sped up, Chipmunks-style) singing “Fuck you, you stinking asshole.” — SH

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The Hold Steady, The Price of Progress

Over 20 years and nine albums, the Hold Steady went from being America’s greatest bar band to one of the greatest bands in America, period. The Price of Progress pushes its thunderous brand of punk, blues, and rock further than ever. It pays off with irresistible curveballs like “Understudies,” a song about showbiz with a funky, “Miss You”-style groove by guitar heroes Steve Selvidge and Tad Kubler. It all rolls straight into the sky on the undulant “Distortions of Faith,” about a pop star who takes a paid gig in a dictatorship and tries not to think too hard about it on the flight back. Indeed, no one writes like Craig Finn. The riddles of faith and fragility that permeate early albums like Separation Sunday and Boys and Girls in America have metastasized into middle-aged malaise, where the passage of time hovers like a cruel joke. Finn fixates on people engaged in “facsimiles of fun”: married life (“Perdido”), Adderall-fueled hookups (“Sixers”), and adult softball leagues (“Carlos Is Crying”). “New medication for the same old depression,” as he puts it on “Sideways Skull.” It’s the one song here where Finn’s characters find joy, or something close to it. As the pyro-rocker protagonist laments, “It’s hard to fully rock in a halfway house.” — SG

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The Lemon Twigs, Everything Harmony

Long Island brothers Brian and Michael D’Addario have always been influenced almost exclusively by pre-1983 rock, and as they’ve grown up, they’ve put their own distinct stamp on those vinyl-era inspirations. A melancholy thread runs through their fourth album, and “New to Me” and “Born To Be Lonely” contemplate the pitfalls of old age with empathy and sensitivity. “Any Time of Day” has the soft rock sparkle of a lost AM gold classic, and “Still It’s Not Enough” could’ve been written on a Laurel Canyon porch in 1971. Everything Harmony is the Lemon Twigs’ prettiest album to date, but there’s also a Tom Verlaine edge in the nervy guitar solo at the conclusion of its most spirited rocker, “What You Were Doing.” — AS

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Unknown Mortal Orchestra, V

One of many blissful moments on UMO’s fifth LP is “Meshuggah,” a slinky art-funk tune sharing way more DNA with Steely Dan than the Swedish metal band of the same name. It’s like not bandleader Ruban Nielson woke up one day newly obsessed with Gaucho or something — groove is an anchor throughout his whole catalog, from the lo-fi psych crunch of 2013’s II up through the jazzy experimentation of 2018’s IC-01 Hanoi. But even at its most dreamlike, V is on another level of soul, from the palm-tree sway of “That Life” to the R&B belting and guitar hero showmanship amid the climax of “The Garden.” — RR

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Water From Your Eyes, Everyone’s Crushed

When a DIY band signs with a top-tier indie label, fans often worry whether the previous scrappy charm can still be captured amid a more traditional music business arrangement. Fortunately, Matador has proven to be the right home for experimental indie pop duo Water From Your Eyes, one of the few young bands of today that live up to the genre’s moniker. Delivered in deadpan, Rachel Brown’s introspective lyrics find humor in the chaos of life, while multi-instrumentalist Nate Amos’ polyrhythmic sounds complement the frenetic wordplay of “Barley” and the sardonic closing track “Buy My Product.” Everyone’s Crushed marks an exciting new era in the indie big leagues for the duo, showing its expansive range. — TT

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Wednesday, Rat Saw God

While some indie alt-country bands try to find glory by emulating Big Thief, Wednesday has built its cult following by going a dramatically different route. The Asheville, N.C. group is pushing the boundaries of what country can sound like — lap steel is used in a vastly different way than you’d expect, adding to lush shoegaze-inspired landscapes. The result is something haunting yet alluring, with the lyrics matching the intensity of the enchanting sound. Bandleader Karly Hartzman mythologizes her hometown while inviting you to be enthralled in the grittiness of it on songs like “Hot Rotten Grass Smell” and “TV in the Gas Pump,” as we flash past desolate streets, neon signs out of service, and highway signs falling down. Between the genre-bending and the storytelling, there’s much to be enthralled by. It’s also a rare moment when a band that isn’t from a big city shows it can thrive while still loving where it is from.  — TT

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Wolf Eyes, Feedback & Drums Vol. 2

Blame it on the pandemic or don’t, but things have changed in Wolf Eyes’ world over the last few years: a New York Public Library residency, an ongoing two-man lineup, and an art world aesthetic of limited (sometimes severely so) physical editions doubling as freaked-out paintings and illustrations. What hasn’t changed is the Michigan duo’s commitment to a constant flow of clammy, serpentine night terrors. Another stunner in a strong, subtle late-career renaissance including last year’s intense Dumpsters & Attitude, Feedback & Drums Vol. 2 is pretty much as advertised: psychoactive horns, primordial moans, slithering distortion, and effects pedal chains curb-stomped by Sasquatch, if Sasquatch had an exquisite sense of pacing and a couple of axes to grind. — RC 

Yo La Tengo, This Stupid World

No band balances verve, locomotion, and heartache quite like Yo La Tengo. On its 17th LP, the trio is at its most vividly indispensable for the first time in quite a while, turning middle age’s fraying nerves into rock’n’roll that riptides, submerges, and quietly saturates your synapses. The riotous, grinding “Brain Capers” fluorescences like an overloading fuse box, while the sly “Tonight’s Episode” couches despondency with yo-yo trick brags and one of James McNew’s choicest bass lines. And if the title track is a marital Shaker hymn to the follies of turning away from the only world we have, the swooning “Miles Away” finds drummer/singer Georgia Hubley at the helm for what might be the nearest to primetime Enya these three will ever reach. — RC

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To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

The following acts released quality albums in May 2022 alone: Radiohead off-shoot The Smile, Kendrick Lamar, Wilco, Arcade Fire, Sharon Van Etten, The Black Keys, Florence + the Machine, Harry Styles — we’ll stop there for space reasons. It’s been such a wild music year so far, only some of them made the following list.

Maybe 2022 was just front-loaded and the final six months will be less eventful. (Judging by the release calendar, that’s probably a bad prediction.) Either way, we had trouble even narrowing this down to 30. Let’s meet back here at year’s end and see how things shake out.

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30. Caracara – New Preoccupations

Fans of classic 2000s emo — Say Anything, Dashboard Confessional, or Circa Survive, for example — are sure to find something to love in Caracara’s New Preoccupations (and not least because it features an awesome guest appearance from the latter’s Anthony Green on “Colorglut”). There are a lot of musical turns across the album, but all of them are truly affecting, giving you that instant heartache that the best emotive music does. Singer Will Lindsay writes with a deep melancholy and nostalgia, exploring the complexities of substance abuse from a personal and newly sober perspective. It’s an album for a lonesome, night-time drive. – Mia Hughes

29. Silvana Estrada – Marchita

With a poetic soul and spellbinding voice, Silvana Estrada makes an unforgettable impression on her debut solo LP. The 25-year-old singer from Veracruz, Mexico has said that Marchita is her attempt to understand sorrow — if these 11 songs are any indication, she’s arrived at a deep and intimate comprehension. Estrada sings with a beguiling combination of potency and restraint, sometimes in the same breath. Her voice is the focal point of songs with minimalist arrangements featuring Venezuelan cuatro or piano, accompanied here and there by percussion and strings. If sorrow was her starting point, she reaches a clarity of vision that borders on rapturous. – Eric R. Danton

28. Véhémence – Ordalies 

French melodic black metal trio Véhémence do nothing by halves — their third album, Ordalies, is an exemplar of the style, rivaling some of its Swedish forebears like Dissection’s The Somberlain and Vinterland’s Welcome My Last Chapter. Melodies are more sweeping (obviously); the chorus chants feel like the angelic battlecries of millions; the constant battery is the ideal balance of modern velocity and classic feel. It’s not huge for the sake of huge — it’s their essence, just more. Véhémence made this record to recount mythological strifes of old. For you, this is what you may need for your perpetual campaign: to annihilate this week. – Andy O’Connor

27. Toro y Moi – Mahal

Chillwave wizard Chaz Bear, better known as Toro y Moi, took his guitar off the wall and made one of 2022’s most memorable albums to date. Mahal, his seventh LP, is named after the Tagalog for “love,” and the title demonstrates the passion poured into it. Bear weaves psych-rock, funk, and jazz-fusion, into a warm and tactile vintage sound, highlighted by the dreamy sounds of “Magazine.” the body-moving grooves of “Postman,” and the soulful, laid-back “The Loop.” Uniting every track is the sense that, above all else, Bear is prioritizing fun. – M.H.

26. Aldous Harding – Warm Chris

“Genre-defying” is an overused term, but Aldous Harding’s music seems to float just above the usual boundaries that fence off music categories. On Warm Chris, the New Zealand singer dabbles in folk, understated pop, and a hint of avant-garde that throws the rest just slightly out of whack. Harding’s lyrics are evocative but oblique enough to be enigmatic, and she surrounds them with arrangements that can veer gracefully in unexpected directions: the little burst of electric guitar on the title track or the trance-like modal horn and piano part that repeats for a few bars in the middle of “Fever.” Add in her shape-shifting vocal approach — brassy and hard here, breathy and soft there — Harding’s fourth LP is a work of unrestrained creativity. – E.R.D.

25. Empath – Visitor

Visitor is a record you could literally get lost in. Like the album sleeve depicting a long hallway full of open doors to unknown destinations, these 11 songs bleed into each other as if listening to one giant glob of noisy psychedelic punk-pop; that Empath bothered to include song titles seems to be beside the point. It’s not as immediately ear-catching or versatile as 2019’s Active Listening: Night on Earth, and that matters very little when an indie release like this has so much focus and a drummer who can actually play. This is a record you’ll want to crank as loud as possible. – Brady Gerber

24. Vince Staples – Ramona Park Broke My Heart

Named for the neighborhood where Staples grew up, Ramona Park Broke My Heart is another introspective, smooth-as-ice LP from the Long Beach rapper — easily one of the most affecting west coast emcees of the last decade (especially for those operating beyond the Kendrick circle). Staples’ fifth LP, forged around the same time as his 2021 self-titled album, hinges on moments of unsavory nostalgia (“East Point Prayer” featuring Lil Baby, “DJ Quik,” and the hooky lead single “Magic”). Silky cuts like “Aye! (Free The Homies)” and “Lemonade” fit Staples’ bill as surface party music hiding deeper, more somber notes to reward closer listening. Unsurprisingly, it’s one of the most replayable hip-hop albums so far this year. – Bobby Olivier

23. Arcade Fire – WE

Let’s get one thing straight: WE is not some beaming statement of solidarity, like “We are in this together.” It’s more like “we screwed up big time” — Arcade Fire’s grandiose sixth album is named after a 1921 Russian dystopian novel about life under perpetual surveillance. In that way, WE is a logical successor to 2017’s polarizing Everything Now, both records commenting on technological mayhem, doom-scrolling, and the immolation of human contact. We, though, is a more thoughtful, rock-steady crack at the world at hand, split into two halves. The first is all sweeping apocalyptic gloom, with Win Butler declaring “We unsubscribe … fuck season five” during the Lennon-esque, nine-minute opus “End of an Empire (I-IV).” But then some clouds lift on “Lightning (I, II),” an arena-worthy Springsteenian thumper searching for hope. In totality, the album is a big swing that mostly hits, returning the group to a place of prowess somewhere near its The Suburbs heyday a decade ago. – B.O.

22. Drug Church – Hygiene

Drug Church’s Patrick Kindlon is one of the most commanding frontpeople in modern punk rock, and he’s reliably scathing on the band’s fourth album, Hygiene. He sets his sights on American politics on “Plucked,” artistic integrity on “Piss & Quiet,” and judgemental fake friends on “Premium Offer.” His best-articulated and most polarizing lyrical statement is on “Detective Lieutenant,” exploring what it means to separate art from the artist. Backing him up is some truly energizing post-hardcore, which emulates the melodic heaviness of ‘90s greats like Helmet or Quicksand — and will psych you up for a stagedive like little else this year. – M.H.

21. Kendrick Lamar – Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers

On “The Heart Part 5,” the lead single from Kendrick Lamar’s fifth LP, Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, the Pulitzer Prize-winning emcee examines the complexity of the Black male experience. And that song previewed the rapper’s most ambitious project to date, a double album examining his deepest turmoil. Mr. Morale did cause a fair share of controversy: commenting on “cancel culture,” clumsily expressing trans acceptance on “Auntie Diaries,” and recruiting Kodak Black for a cameo on “Silent Hill.” (The Florida rapper pleaded guilty to first-degree assault and battery in a 2021 plea deal, stemming from a sexual assault case.) Still, between the blunders, Lamar remains one of rap’s most thought-provoking and sonically ambitious artists, reaching new levels of introspection on standout cuts like “Mother I Sober.” – Candace McDuffie 

20. Cate Le Bon – Pompeii

Despite the distance it covers, Cate Le Bon’s hazy, mournful Pompeii demands that listeners approach it instead of meeting them anywhere — certainly not in the middle. “Dirt on the Bed” is a typically languid, off-kilter opener, while the ’80s pop of “Moderation,” the Bowie-esque title track, and the bouncy “Harbour” are proof she can solidly out-write most of her indie peers. In the studio, the Welsh singer-producer draws a jagged line, sprinkling in detuned synths, heavily treated percussion and flanged guitars. It’s not quite art-rock, not quite indie-pop, and utterly Le Bon. – John Wenzel

19. billy woods – Aethiopes

Billy Woods effectively raps in buckshot; he opens his mouth and impressionistic streaks of storytelling spray out. Whether or not any of these stories are true seems besides the point. What matters: Is your mind now reeling? What matters: Did he link up with the right beatsmith? The NYC-based woods finds a kindred spirit in Preservation, a veteran producer who’s laced everyone from KRS One to RZA to Mach Hommy. On Aethiopes, Preservation lays down swatch after unnerving swatch of Earth-tone jazz and bummer boom-bap — bleak, cinematic scenery for woods and his guests to chew on. I’m especially partial to spoken word excursion “The Doldrums,” police-siren struck lope “Versailles,” and the tense, stirring drug misadventure “No Hard Feelings.” Any accusations of negativity and speciousness that might attend this vision of hip-hop overlook its author’s bottomless, emotive well of visions. – Raymond Cummings

18. Mitski – Laurel Hell

Laurel Hell is a contractual obligation album made at a moment when Mitski wanted to leave music for good, but it’s often more inspired than that description suggests. The singer-songwriter submitted to Dead Oceans a languid, Lynchian, sensuous, experimental pop/country/glam rock one-woman show — and it feels like a triumph, whether or not it was submitted under legal duress. Some songs feel like Mitski alone under a spotlight, her voice rising to reach a quiet audience in the mezzanine. Others transport us to different scenes: a desert highway or a city street. She’s telling stories in all of them, painfully human and profoundly existential, like a peak-power Joni Mitchell. Here’s hoping it isn’t really her farewell to the stage. – Beverly Bryan

17. The Weeknd – Dawn FM

Following his infamous After Hours era, Dawn FM serves as a natural sonic progression for The Weeknd, with sleek ‘80s synths (“Take My Breath”) and old-school R&B melodies (“Out of Time”) complimenting Abel Tesfaye’s sweltry croon. The album also highlights his lyrical evolution over the last decade — from past anthems reveling in drug-fueled escapades to, well, having Jim Carrey chronicle a desolate trek into the afterlife, contextualizing the dark themes Tesfaye is desperate to explore. Dawn FM isn’t just one of 2022’s best albums; it also displays The Weeknd’s innovative approach to pop construction. – C.M.

16. Denzel Curry – Melt My Eyez See Your Future

The combined length of Denzel Curry’s previous two albums is just a hair over 45 minutes — the Florida rapper’s never needed a large plot of real estate to plant his flag. But on Melt My Eyez See Your Future, Curry allows himself the luxury of exploration — using extra space to grow into an even stronger artist. Here he (mostly) trades the hard-hitting 808 beats and Carol City place names of ZUU for jazz-rap loops and samurai flicks. Curry keeps good company, joined by the likes of slowthai, T-Pain, and Thundercat on several album highlights. But Melt My Eyez hinges on some of his most intimately personal reflections; the first song alone is a dispatch from a therapy session, and he only digs deeper from there. – Jeff Terich

15. Beach House – Once Twice Melody

On this 18-song stunner, Baltimore-bred duo Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally sink deeper into their whirlpool of creamy synth-pop, leaving any hint of air behind. The husky twilight vibes and key-change aerobics have faded in favor of Legrand’s inches-close vocals, backed by David Campbell’s lush strings and Scally’s carousel of fuzz. Soft-peddling their sinister vibes has brought out the influences, from Misery Is a Butterfly-era Blonde Redhead and late-’90s Stereolab to Lynchian sadcore (which, to be fair, they’ve helped create). But tug at the threads and you’ll get nothing but spacey, fluid bliss. It’s vintage Beach House, mansion-sized. – J.W.

14. Messa – Close

Doom, Badalamenti-esque dark jazz, Mediterranean seaside guitar, and even grindcore come to a head on Messa’s third album, Close, which cements their status as one of metal’s most exciting new acts. As the Italian band has become more adventurous and wandered just a little closer to sunlight, vocalist Sara Bianchin remains their anchor, her performances defining every song. Closer “Serving Him” best represents their dynamic, as the band surges and falls at her whim: matching guitar crashes with unbridled release, creating stars and galaxies in the space when the band lays back to serene drones. – A.O.

13. Lucky Daye – Candydrip

The sleekness that saturates Lucky Daye’s second album, Candydrip, complements his expansive songwriting and vocal skills. The New Orleans native got a taste of mainstream success with his 2019 debut, Painted, and Daye’s 2022 Grammy win for Best Progressive R&B Album (2021’s Table for Two EP) corroborated his undeniable talent. Candydrip goes even deeper: The singer experiments with his inner Prince on “Feels Like” and indulges his status as a lovelorn suitor on “Over” (which samples neo-soul veteran Musiq Soulchild). With every track, Daye is sprightly and unpredictable in the best way possible, embodying the no-rules aesthetic of modern-day R&B. – C.M.

12. Animal Collective – Time Skiffs

The dream of 2010 was alive and well in February 2022, when Beach House, Spoon, and Animal Collective released good-to-great albums on three consecutive Fridays. You may not have expected Time Skiffs to be the best of that bunch, but it turned out to be a revelation. The first AC album in a decade to involve all four members, it peels back the queasy synths and overcompressed arrangements to reveal a harmonious inspiration missing from their recent work. The kitchen-sink arrangement of “Walker,” named in honor of the late Scott Walker, proves Deakin’s return to the fold is a glorious thing, while the woozy, all-American travelog “Cherokee” offers up eight minutes of reflective, road-trippin’ bliss. – Zach Schonfeld

11. Oso Oso – Sore Thumb

Oso Oso’s Jade Lilitri has an ear for hooks and a deep vulnerability, and his knack for combining the two has made him a force in the Long Island emo scene. Sore Thumb is considerably looser and more eclectic than 2019’s crossover classic Basking in the Glow; its highlights include lo-fi acoustic psychedelia (“All Love”) and Britpoppy character study (“Pensacola”). As it turns out, the album’s off-the-cuff feel has a tragic meaning: Lilitri put these songs to tape with his cousin and collaborator, guitarist Tavish Maloney, in early 2021. He considered them demos, with a proper album to be recorded later. When Maloney died suddenly a month later, Lilitri decided to release the album as is, a poignant and charged monument to the memories and music he shared with his late bandmate. – Z.S.

10. Wet Leg – Wet Leg

Formed on the far-off Isle of Wight, Wet Leg went from nobodies to viral sensation to Domino signees to indie darlings faster than you could say “Is your muffin buttered?” It’s endearing how little the duo seemed to expect it, approaching every sold-out show or television appearance with the same bemused astonishment. If Wet Leg doesn’t sound like an album burdened by the pressures of sudden fame, that’s because it isn’t. It was recorded last spring before the devilishly addictive “Chaise Longue” triggered the band’s rise, and Wet Leg’s cheeky odes to bad boyfriends, bad parties, and generally bad vibes are uniformly hooky and unpretentious. A rejoinder to the weepiness of much-acclaimed indie-rock of late, Wet Leg calls back to new wave textures and smirky mid-2000s blog rock, placing a spotlight on Rhian Teasdale’s almost Phair-ian wit: “You say you think about me in the midnight hour / I know that you’re just rubbing one out up in the shower,” she croons in “Loving You.” – Z.S.

9. Pusha T – It’s Almost Dry

Pusha T has built a sizable vault of rhymes waxing poetic about being “cocaine’s Dr. Seuss.” And on his first album in four years, the Virginia native continues to prophesize the perils of coke rap with impeccable precision. Top-notch production from Pharrell (“Neck and Wrist,” “Brambleton”) and Kanye West (“Diet Coke,” “Just So You Remember”) get Pusha to reach new lyrical heights, while still relishing the subject that dictates the bulk of his discography. It’s Almost Dry, his first solo project to top the Billboard 200 chart, is a decadent one — here, the emcee’s flow is the most aggrandized it’s ever been. – C.M.

8. Rosalía – MOTOMAMI

Even the fiercest of skeptics were suddenly silenced upon hearing Rosalía’s third LP, MOTOMAMI, which showcases her consecration by deviating from pure flamenco into more experimental territory. The Catalan singer claims her own voice and narrative through progressive fusion and improvisation, proving both forward-looking and sophisticated as she pulls from reggaeton, jazz, electro-pop, and hip-hop. Gathering reflections from the whirlwind of her life since the 2018 breakthrough of El Mal Querer, MOTOMAMI emerges as Rosalía’s tour de force, solidifying her international relevance following the crossover. – Ana Leorne

7. Soul Glo – Diaspora Problems

Saying that a band is saving its genre is a good way to sound out of touch with the genre in question. You usually aren’t doing the band any favors either. Oh, but sometimes a band will tempt you. Soul Glo’s second album, Diaspora Problems, opens with “Gold Chain Punk (whogonbeatmyass?)” — after the sound of a respectable bong rip, it unleashes some galloping, rough-and-ready punk in the style of Japandroids, The Men, and unhinged Suicidal Tendencies worship. That sets the standard on one of the most thrillingly thrashy, brilliantly based, and convincingly punk hardcore albums in years. Are they saving punk? Maybe not. But this album might save your life. – B.B.

6. Spoon – Lucifer on the Sofa

The five-year gap since 2017’s sharp, dance-ready Hot Thoughts shows in the stitching of this Austin group’s 10th album. Despite propulsive sing-alongs like “The Hardest Cut” and the Jack White-aping, octave pedal-abusing “Feels Alright,” there’s renewed patience in “The Devil and Mr. Jones” (shockingly, not a cover) and the brushed hum of “Astral Jacket.” Uniting it is Britt Daniel’s wrestling match with his isolation and demons, although the unmistakably chipper Jack Antonoff drops by to co-write an expansive “Wild,” and the opening track/Smog cover “Held” struts improbably high. It ends with the heartbreaking eponymous track, all skittering synths and whispered sax and Jim Eno’s drum sophisticated fills. God love ’em. – J.W.

5. Saba – Few Good Things

Saba may be the most versatile emcee from Chicago’s contemplative new wave, joining artists like Chance the Rapper and Noname who came to prominence parallel to the 2010s drill scene. On his third album, Few Good Things, Saba proves he can hang with rap veterans as different as Black Thought and Krayzie Bone. He also takes a brief break from his gentle, jazzy aesthetic for a harsh drill banger, “Survivor’s Guilt” with G Herbo, while still asking complicated questions about finding success after growing up in poverty: “What’s really eatin’ when you from a food desert?” – Al Shipley

4. Big Thief – Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You

Big Thief are a once-in-a-generation kind of band, and they cemented that with the release of Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You. It’s a massive, sprawling double-LP that never drags, thanks to its palpable warmth and joy. It feels like a mixtape, given its range of styles and moods, from the folk balladry of “Change” to the brooding electronics of “Blurred View” to the rock stomp of “Love Love Love.” As always, Adrianne Lenker’s lyrics mix the pedestrian with the otherworldly in her trademark poetic way — you can find the meaning of life in “Spud Infinity” if you listen close enough. – M.H.

3. Black Country, New Road – Ants From Up Here

It’s hard to imagine Black Country, New Road without singer-guitarist Isaac Wood, who quit the band for mental health reasons. It’s especially hard to imagine after Ants From Up There. While their 2020 debut positioned the seven-piece as their era’s elite revivalists of talky post-punk, the second album took a gentle turn toward melody. BCNR created a romantic, pastoral landscape out of their jazz-flavored noise rock, even hinting at folk and chamber music while drawing on just a bit of Revolution Summer fire. Wood sang the lyrics outright this time, revealing a U.S.-style emo warble that gave the album much of its tender tone. The band may continue, but without him, they may never recapture such fragile beauty. – B.B.

2. FKA Twigs – Caprisongs

A lockdown album billed as a mixtape, Caprisongs showed a less guarded and precise side of FKA Twigs. Perhaps that conceit served a deeper purpose, helping spur on some of her most playful and satisfying material. Throughout, she fully embraces genres she’s only flirted with in the past: rapping on “honda” and “darjeeling,” dabbling in dancehall on “papi bones,” going full hyper-pop on “pamplemousse.” It’s fun to hear her cut loose, experimenting without being experimental. The fire of Caprisongs is merely joyous, a treat both she and her audience have earned. Twigs can go back to bending the definition of pop on her next official album cycle. – B.B.

1. The Smile – A Light for Attracting Attention

Born into a world ravaged by COVID, supply-chain shortages, and a six-year drought of new Radiohead music, A Light for Attracting Attention offered an alluring solution for one out of three: What if Radiohead, but different? Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood sound remarkably invigorated on a heady, eclectic album whose high points rank with anything they’ve done this side of In Rainbows. Brooding, majestic gems like “Open the Floodgates” and “Skrting on the Surface” are definitive versions of decade-old Yorke rarities, while jittery art-rock outbursts like “The Smoke” and “Thin Thing” are clearly new creations, steeped in drummer Tom Skinner’s off-kilter grooves. Mangled riffs and odd time signatures abound, and Yorke’s lifelong dread has never sounded more in tune with the outside world. A Light for Attracting Attention is so good, it almost makes you want to send Radiohead’s other three members a sympathy card. – Z.S.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

It’s almost absurd how much good music — universally acclaimed, big-ticket, year-end contender music — came out in 2022’s first five months. It’s hard to imagine the next seven matching that pace. We’ve heard soul-bearing rap songs (Kendrick Lamar), future windows-down rock classics (Momma), loads of elite-level Thom Yorke (The Smile) — the list, literally, goes on.

Below, we gathered our 30 favorite tracks of 2022 so far. (In this case, we decided songs from any 2022 albums were on the table.) Let’s meet back here at year’s end and see how things shake out.

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30. All Get Out – “Feeling Well”

The first single from All Get Out’s new album, Kodak, smartly swirls folk-rock, emo, and a dash of country into a potent cocktail of paranoia, self-doubt, and hesitant nostalgia. This South Carolina band dives deep into the “weird shit in the southeast,” and the resulting song explores the horrors of getting a little older and the perils of examining your past. Frontman Nathan Hussey mines his own life for a modern, nuanced look at small-town America. He also manages to make it totally kick-ass, with big-room dynamics building to a massive shout-out-loud chorus that’ll have you bellowing right along with him. – John Paul Bullock

29. Ella Mai – “DFMU”

London-born singer Ella Mai rarely sounds particularly British in her songs, outside of brief spoken asides. And her bright bubbly hits “Boo’d Up” and “Trip,” marrying smooth piano chords to California rap producer Mustard’s crisp beats, made her the toast of American R&B in 2018. But when her second album, Heart on My Sleeve, finally arrived this year, Mai’s sound had turned darker and murkier, even if she didn’t go full-on trip-hop. Instead of flirty songs about crushes, she’s wounded and cautious on “DFMU,” pleading to a new partner, “Don’t fuck me up, don’t let me down.” – Al Shipley

28. beabadoobee – “Talk”

In another lifetime, Bea Kristi could have coasted through a career as a TikTokcore mainstay and prolific collaborator, singing about death beds and Stephen Malkmus and leaving it at that. It’s thrilling that Kristi has bigger ambitions — and the talent to back them up. If 2021’s Our Extended Play, produced by Dirty Hit label mates and mentors The 1975, double-downed on the best parts of her 2020 debut, Fake It Flowers, the melodic and catchy “Talk” hints at further greatness. You’ve heard this kind of song before — every generation gets to rediscover the BOSS DS-1 Distortion pedal for their own age — and right now, Kristi does it better than anyone else. – Brady Gerber

27. billy woods – “NYNEX”

After delivering one of 2021’s most staggering hip-hop albums with Armand Hammer’s Haram, billy woods trades verses with partner-in-rhyme ELUCID on “NYNEX,” a posse cut broadcast from the edge of a deeply shitty future resembling our deeply shitty present. Set against a hyperventilated harmonica loop from producer Preservation that feels a little like an HVAC system about to melt down, woods, ELUCID, Quelle Chris, and Denmark Vessey trade soothsayings for a darker tomorrow: defunct message boards, paper-thin walls, colonization, and capitalism. But the most eye-popping one-liner comes from woods himself in the first verse: “The future isn’t flying cars; it’s Rachel Dolezal absolved.” It’d be depressing if it didn’t go so hard. – Jeff Terich

26. Sumerlands – “Heavens Above”

“Heavens Above” might seem like just another killer metal song, but it’s also a master balancing act. Sumerlands’ axemen, renowned producer Arthur Rizk and the aptly surnamed John Powers, weld huge melodies with a light touch, surrounding “Heavens” in a subtle celestial ring. Bringing on the warlock wailing of Magic Circle’s Brendan Radigan is a huge boon, but he leaves behind the mysticism of his old group and blends in with Sumerlands’ more down-to-earth approach. You know he’s there, but he knows he’s a strongman amongst his strongman peers. Reaching equilibrium has never kicked this much ass. – Andy O’Connor

25. Omni of Halos – “You Suck”

This Swedish rock supergroup – featuring members of Division of Laura Lee, Bombus, and Firebreather – introduced themselves with the catchy, soaring “You Suck,” a song rooted firmly in the early ‘90s American slacker indie-punk ethos, minus bargain-basement engineering. They sound like they could have opened for Superchunk back in the day, and who knows, maybe that’s in their future. Singer Henrik Hjelt Röstberg is blessed with the sort of bold, reedy voice that’s a few shades shy of bratty, and well-suited to the interpersonal eject-button vibes exploding everywhere here. – Raymond Cummings

24. Binker and Moses – “Accelerometer Overdose”

Upon first listen, “Accelerometer Overdose” offers the usual pleasures of any dazzling free-jazz showcase — you nod approvingly, stroke your chin in rumination, mutter a few “damn!”s in amazement at the raw talent. But the song also excels on a deeper conceptual level, achieving a unique symbiosis between saxophone (Binker Golding), drums (Moses Boyd), and electronics (Max Luthert). We open with a deep drone, Boyd moving from ornamental ride cymbals to rumbling snare rolls to roomy kick drums that sound like angry neighbors pounding your apartment wall. Golding punctuates the chaos with languid, sexy phrases — a sun cutting through the clouds. Then around the 3:30 mark, Boyd settles into a solid jazz-rap groove, as Golding’s sax echoes wildly: a role reversal that catapults us into the darkness. – Ryan Reed

23. Stromae – “L’Enfer”

The second single from Stromae’s third album, Multitude, was first unveiled on the evening news of French national channel TF1. The journalist asked the Belgian musician about his comeback, which followed a nearly 10-year absence due to a series of paralyzing panic attacks that impeded him from leading a normal life; in what seemed like an impromptu performance context, Stromae turned to the camera and burst out “L’Enfer” (“Hell”), looking the audience in the eye while his arresting delivery evoked his various idols, from Cesária Évora to Jacques Brel. The whole of Multitude is unquestionable excellence, but “L’Enfer” stands out as its emotionally charged gateway. – Ana Leorne

22. Joyce Manor – “Gotta Let It Go”

There’s a darkness in “Gotta Let It Go” that’s been missing from the past few Joyce Manor records. Call it nostalgia for the angsty S/T, which is now over a decade old and canonized as the most beloved debut of punk’s Tumblr era. Call it an adjustment following drummer Pat Ware’s band exit that turned Joyce Manor into a trio. (Motion City Soundtrack’s Tony Thaxton picks up drum duties.) Call it a signal to fans that this new LP will be more interesting than the Sublime pun that inspired its name. Whatever it is, “Gotta Let It Go,” with a hook that only this band could write, sounds like the Joyce Manor you fell in love with from the very beginning. – B.G.

21. Kay Flock (feat. Cardi B, Dougie B and Bory300) – “Shake It”

So far in 2022, the perpetually booked and busy Cardi B has offered a melodic cameo on Summer Walker’s latest hit, performed “The Seaweed Sway” on the animated series Baby Shark’s Big Show, and ripped a verse over one of the busy, relentless drill beats that has ruled New York rap in recent years. “Shake It” runs under two minutes, with four emcees passing the mic around like a hot potato, and Bronx teenager Kay Flock is the nominal star of the song. But Cardi B effortlessly steals the spotlight, cackling threats like “Come get showered with bullets, no bridal.” – A.S.

20. The Range – “Urethane”

“Last year, man got left in the dark / ‘cos man didn’t really have nothin’ to say,” spits MIK. on their 2014 grime track “Ice Rink.” It’s a line lost within some rapid-fire verses, but it resonated when The Range’s James Hinton heard it in late 2019. As soon as the pandemic hit and we were faced with a year of hopelessness, the lyric grew even more powerful in context: Hinton samples it repeatedly throughout his wide-spanning synth sparkler “Urethane.” The waves of keypads roll out like landscapes, possibly endless, but we listeners fly over them, catching a glimpse of a never-ending horizon as MIK. goads us on like the most amped-up ghost in existence. The Range is ambitious for trying to capture years’ worth of collective anxiety in under three minutes, but the effects of “Urethane” won’t wear off any time soon. – Evan Sawdey

19. Nilufer Yanya – “midnight sun”

Between the overlapping guitar arpeggios and dense, distorted shoegaze climax of “midnight sun,” Nilüfer Yanya lets out an uncomfortable confession: “Don’t like whenever I’m not in pain / Peeling back, not noticing / The blood and bones beneath my skin.” It’s so subtle and reserved, it almost goes by unnoticed: a moment of agonizing honesty amid one of her most intoxicating arrangements. The best song on the U.K. songwriter’s second album, PAINLESS, “midnight sun” exists in that blurry space between love and regret, to the point where they’re almost indistinguishable. Not the healthiest place to be, perhaps, but it sounds like ecstasy. – J.T.

18. A Pregnant Light – “Beast About”

Being a fan of A Pregnant Light presents a wonderful dilemma every year: Just when you think you’ve settled on your favorite song, Damian Master unleashes another banger that throws your judgment into disarray. “Beast About” is restlessness enshrined — Master’s never been short on hooks or urgency, and he’s on overdrive here, burning any laurels he could easily rest on. The raging black metal tremolo verse; the sweet, venomous ending kiss-off lead; the windmilling chorus — they’re all equally catchy, casting a blinding shimmer on surging metal-punk. He’s your angel and your devil, and you can buy now and cry later — he doesn’t make you choose; he submits you to total experience. – A.O.

17. Denzel Curry – “Walkin”

There’s typically one moment on every Denzel Curry album where he trades trap beats for Native Tongues, delivering verses wrapped in a warm blanket of crackly analog boom-bap. On TA13OO it was “Black Balloons”; on ZUU it was “Wish”; and on Melt My Eyez See Your Future — well, it’s most of the album, actually, but “Walkin” turns the whole thing upside down. From the get-go it’s summery and breezy, Curry invoking the good name of De La Soul within the first few bars. An 808 sputters through at the midpoint, and Curry faces a storm head-on: “Keep on walkin’, ain’t no stoppin’ in this dirty, filthy, rotten, nasty little world we call our home.” With the sunshine darkening and hard times still ahead of him, Curry is ready to don his armor. – J.T.

16. Cities Aviv – “Black Pleasure”

Cities Aviv goes back to where it all started. Over rapturously laid-back production, the Memphis rapper-producer reminds listeners that “Black Pleasure was the blueprint,” name-dropping his 2012 mixtape as a nod to the lo-fi hip-hop movement. Aviv — whose legal name is Gavin Mays — glides on the track with ease, even when its sonics float between abstract and industrial. A noteworthy standout from Aviv’s 2022 project, Man Plays the Horn, “Black Pleasure” fits securely within a patchwork of soul samples rarely heard in mainstream rap. Let Aviv tell it: “This a blackness, a black-blackness / Before black was a blackness you sold on the map.” J Dilla would be proud. – Jaelani Turner-Williams

15. Wet Leg – “Ur Mum”

Remember last year on Saturday Night Live when Phoebe Bridgers unleashed that primal scream to punctuate “I Know the End” (just before her guitar smash)? If you loved that moment of visceral frustration and angst, might we suggest “Ur Mum,” a banner cut from Wet Leg’s beaming April debut. Near the end of this venomous tune, singer Rhian Teasdale breaks the fourth wall, declaring: “I’ve been practicing my longest and loudest scream / Okay, here we go.” What follows is a piercing shriek to seal this lively break-up jam, fueled by a St. Vincent-like sense of playful assuredness. Also, this is a great antidote if you’re sick of “Chaise Longue.” – Bobby Olivier

14. Lalalar – “Abla Deme Lazim Olur”

With Anatolian rock currently being reinvented for the new millennium, it was only a matter of time until its newest players earned more visibility abroad; take Altın Gün, whose 2021 LPs, Yol and Âlem, opened wide the doors of Coachella. Istanbul-based Lalalar propose a similarly hypnotizing mix of funk, Turkish folk, electronic sampling, and other improbable musical triggers superbly exemplified by their April debut, Bi Cinnete Bakar. “Abla Deme Lazim Olur” is the album’s exquisite business card: a journey defying the limits of space and time, propelled by the band’s irresistible fusion of styles. – A.L.

13. Soul Glo (feat. Mckinley Dixon and Lojii) – “Spiritual Level of Gang Shit”

Philly hardcore mavericks Soul Glo are one of heavy music’s most exhilarating bands right now, and they finally earned some of that recognition with their third album, Diaspora Problems. Closer “Spiritual Level of Gang Shit” leaves you with an unforgettable imprint. After a simmering start with stellar verses from rappers McKinley Dixon and Lojii, it ignites: The band enters at a breakneck pace, and lead vocalist Pierce Jordan unleashes his signature howls. It ends with a shout-along of the invigorating title phrase, with a surprise brass section tying it together. As it fades out, the track sounds like it’s gloriously coming off the rails. – Mia Hughes

12. Rosalía – “SAOKO”

For any of us raised on a diet of mid-’00s MTV, when the outstanding reach of Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina” helped update Latin music for international audiences, Rosalía’s “SAOKO” easily comes across as the lifeblood of her third album, MOTOMAMI. Transporting the very essence of reggaeton into broader territories, similar to what Machito and Tito Rodriguez did for mambo in the 1940s, the multi-referential “SAOKO” provides the definite link between the new LP and 2018’s El Mal Querer. The song’s addictive urgency describes a land of improbable yet exciting connections, where tradition meets cyber-futurism and inevitable transformation takes center stage. – A.L.

11. Kamasi Washington – “The Garden Path”

A triple album, followed by a double album, followed by a soundtrack to a film about first lady Michelle Obama — Kamasi Washington’s career since 2015 has seemingly been one grand statement after another. This makes his standalone single “The Garden Path,” at a bit under seven minutes, seem relatively understated by comparison. The same can’t be said of its overwhelming array of sounds, including hard-driving rhythms, bold bursts of horns, and one of the most ominous choral refrains heard in Washington’s music: “Bright minds with dark eyes / Speak loud words, tell sweet lies.” It feels like a warning, even when it sounds like a celebration. – J.T.

10. The Weeknd – “Sacrifice”

At this point, Abel Tesfaye is daring his pop audience to stop making every song a smash. His fifth LP, Dawn FM, hasn’t achieved the same Top 40 stranglehold of 2020’s After Hours. But his latest project is buoyed by a thundering dance-rock smash, “Sacrifice,” in which Swedish House Mafia-processed guitar lines run into the piano pounds of Alicia Myers’ 1981 classic “I Want to Thank You”: an atmosphere both familiar and new. Like The Weeknd’s best commercial work, it feels like he’s repurposing Michael Jackson’s sonics for a modern era — but on his own terms, knowing that a powerful pop chorus heals all wounds. “Don’t be out here catchin’ feelings,” he warns us in the third verse. But it’s too late: We already love this worthy “Sacrifice.” – E.S.

9. Lucky Daye – “Candy Drip”

Lucky Daye won his first Grammy a few weeks after releasing his second LP, Candydrip, which often evokes R&B’s past via Ohio Players-styled cover art and lush tracks by Silk Sonic producer Dernst “D’Mile” Emile II. But on the album’s (sort of) title track, D’Mile lays down thumping hip-hop breakbeats and booming bass as Lucky Daye teases out the ecstasy and ambivalence of a relationship that might not last: “We ride expensive highs; we tried to end it twice / But maybe you’re the one.” – A.S.

8. Pusha T – “Diet Coke”

It’s Almost Dry is the rare rap record that’s both sticky and frictionless, the addictive outcome of intensely competitive creativity between its three fathers. Impeccably produced by Pharrell Williams (existential eeriness, warped velocities) and Kanye West (soul loops, bent innuendos), Pusha T emerges as his best worst self: bemused, insinuative, sinister, exquisitely disdainful and venomous on a level beyond his prior solo albums. As ever, cocaine weight is his great theme, but here the experience is like cruising around nighttime Las Vegas in a stolen Tesla with a funny, dangerous pal. Produced by West and 88 Keys, lead single “Diet Coke” turns the dope game into a carnival of spiraling pianos, record scratches, and playful zing-zing-zang wordplay. Coke rap has rarely sounded this head-nodding and celebratory: “Imaginary players ain’t been coached right / Master recipes under stove lights,” Pusha quips. “The number on this jersey is the quote price / You ordered Diet Coke; that’s a joke, right?” – R.C.

7. Big Thief – “Simulation Swarm”

Big Thief cover a lot of ground — from experimental indie rock to sepia-toned old-time — with Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You, and “Simulation Swarm” is one of the sprawling album’s most enlightening surprises. The song thrives with alluring minimalism, as a circular guitar riff, crisp drums, and limber bassline provide a portal into the heady wilderness of Adrianne Lenker’s poetry. Carried by that meditative momentum, Lenker unfurls lyrics with a vision that’s both captivating and mysterious, only breaking the spell briefly for a brain-bouncing acoustic solo. Intrigue is only heightened with repeated listens. – Jedd Ferris

6. Mitski – “Love Me More”

Mitski Miyawaki just wants to dance. While that’s evident throughout February’s Laurel Hell, the indie star’s most pop-focused project to date, it’s never more obvious than on “Love Me More,” which immediately follows pumping lead single “The Only Heartbreaker” with a quickened tempo and hypnotic hook. It’s all laid over frenetic synth, perhaps a call-back to Michael Sembello’s Flashdance hit “Maniac.” Regardless, it’s an addicting tune designed for the grander stages Mitski took on this tour, leagues away from the tiny underground clubs she was playing just two albums ago. – B.O.

5. Bartees Strange – “Heavy Heart”

“I never want to miss you this bad / I never want to run out like out,” sings Bartees Strange, admitting that, despite his hot streak of success since 2020 breakout LP Live Forever, he feels guilty about the strain his ambitions put on those close to him. He faces these internal struggles head-on in “Heavy Heart,” a dynamic rock song full of intimate reflection and self-examination. The lead track from Strange’s 4AD debut, Farm to Table, starts with a gentle, glassy guitar line but quickly climbs toward a flurry of pummeling riffs and drums, before hitting a peak punctuated by iridescent horns. “Heavy Heart” is an exhilarating reckoning with inner turmoil. – J.F.

4. Momma – “Speeding 72” 

The Song of the Summer needs to rule in all arenas: played loud in the midst of a party that feels like it might live forever, soaring out the windows of a car driving anywhere. It has to demand hitting repeat just one more time in your headphones while the sun drenches your face. Momma have a strong contender for that crown with “Speeding 72,” a thesis statement for a band that feels equally brand new and ageless. Their clever handiwork — weaving unforgettable hooks through sun-soaked guitars — results in a jam for the ages, bound for every playlist amid an endless summer. – Niko Stratis

3. Kendrick Lamar – “Mother I Sober” (feat. Beth Gibbons of Portishead)

On “Mother I Sober,” the penultimate track from Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers, Kendrick Lamar poignantly breaks a “generational curse” instead of drowning his sorrows. The rapper unmasks dark secrets on the nearly seven-minute track, from grappling with family trauma to recognizing a “lustful nature.” (He notes that his longtime partner, Whitney Alford, selflessly recommended therapy.) While Lamar raps about “a conversation not bein’ addressed in Black families,” Beth Gibbons’ vocal offers a place to rest his burdens. Freeing decades of pent-up pain, Lamar instills communal healing within Black listeners. – J.T.W.

2. The Smile – “The Smoke”

The slinky bass lines of “The Smoke” are nimble, almost groovy. They lure you in as the horn section swells — a vibe that only dissipates when you realize what the lyrics are getting at: “It begs me while I’m sleeping / I desire a second chance / I have set myself on fire.” Even if some have described The Smile — Radiohead’s Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood, with jazz drummer Tom Skinner — as a more stripped-down Radiohead, the trio haven’t minced words with their grimdark lyrics. “The Smoke” is seductive to the point of being alarming; a siren song that will get in your head and whisper gothic horrors directly to your brain. No wonder we all got excited about their debut album: They were begging us while we were sleeping. – E.S.

1. Maggie Rogers – “That’s Where I Am”

Maggie Rogers blew minds with her 2019 debut, showcasing a blend of backwoods Maryland folk and French club thump. Now, as the singer-songwriter gears up for her second album, July’s Surrender, she’s released a monster lead single: “That’s Where I Am,” a maximalist, hand-clapping indie-pop banger built for everlasting spring love. “No, I’ll never find another, no one else can do it better / When we’re together it feels like heaven,” Rogers sings over complex synth and drum patterns, setting the stage for another killer LP. (Also, we beseech you to watch this tune’s music video; it’s pure joy, featuring a guest appearance from David Byrne.) – B.O.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Best Album lists tend to earn all the internet hype — it always feels like a somewhat serious, academic endeavor, adding to the pantheon of OK Computers and To Pimp a Butterflys. But Best Songs lists are weirder, messier, even more challenging on a nuts and bolts level. (When was this song released? When was the album released? Does it need to be singles only?) While LP lists tend to follow the critical consensus, songs lists are harder to predict. And that makes them fun to explore.

Below, we gathered our 30 favorite tracks of 2021 so far. (In this case, we decided songs from any 2021 albums were on the table.) And as you’ll notice, we swerved all over the map — from Bieber to Black Country, New Road. Let’s meet back here in six months and see how things shake out.

More from Spin:

• THE 40 GREATEST MUSICIANS OF THE LAST 40 YEARS
• Foo Fighters, Guns N’ Roses Ready For Rockville
• Arlo Parks Debuting New Songs At Club Shows

Bachelor – “Anything At All”<

The first single from Bachelor, the new joint project from Jay Som (Melina Duterte) and Palehound (Ellen Kempner), is a near-perfect melding of both artists’ experimental indie-pop sensibilities. “Anything At All” begins with Jay Som’s creeping bassline and Palehound’s static drum pattern — a somewhat unnerving atmosphere gradually brightened by their melodic vocals and chiming keys. Then another shift arrives just after the one-minute mark, when a massive, searing guitar solo comes slicing through the mix like a chainsaw. It’s a master class in how to build tension and subvert expectations. – John Paul Bullock

Julien Baker – “Hardline” 

Julien Baker transforms the painfully personal details of her life into art. “Alcoholism, heartbreak, reevaluating your ego … These are all the things people do every damn day and fight through for their entire lives,” the singer-songwriter told SPIN, noting the hardships explored on her latest LP, Little Oblivions. Heart-wrenching opener “Hardline” documents her struggle with substance abuse: “Blacked out on a weekday / Still something that I’m trying to avoid,” she sings. “Still asking for forgiveness in advance / For all the future things I will destroy.” The arrangement conjures a suitable drama: The first 15 seconds, anchored by distorted organ chords, feel like walking through the doors of a disorienting church. Baker’s soft vocals lead you to an explosive instrumental buildup you’ll want to experience at maximum volume. – Anna VanValkenburgh

Justin Bieber’s winning strategy after his underwhelming 2020 comeback, Changes, was blanketing the airwaves with new singles to set up a quick follow-up album, Justice. The result was several hits at once, but one song got a little lost in the shuffle. Bieber’s biggest recent singles pushed his renewed agenda to be taken seriously as an R&B singer. But frequent collaborators Jon Bellion and Andrew Watt give the power ballad “Anyone” an earnest ‘80s synth-pop sound, playing to the strengths of his pouty boy-band voice. – Al Shipley

Black Country, New Road – “Instrumental”

Appearing as the first song on Black Country, New Road’s chameleonic debut LP, For the first time, “Instrumental” is a befittingly oddball intro. But that’s natural territory for the audacious septet. The song opens with chunky bass, jazzy tom-tom grooves and the lithe, spidery keyboard and guitar figures that loop throughout a frenzied four minutes. A wailing violin and sax fill out the arrangement before feedback ensues, building to an open-ended climax on this sort of neo-klezmer track. It’s but an appetizer of the album’s wanton sonics. You’ve entered Black Country. – Logan Blake

DARKSIDE – “The Limit” 

It’s no surprise that “The Limit,” the first single from DARKSIDE’s long-awaited second LP, offers a reticence that adds to its mystique. It’s not so much the light word count — it would be just imprudent to distract from the fat, lubricated bassline in this dark yet airy funk-psych earworm. Savor the details: the inexorable acoustic strum, the enthralling drone created by gyrating electric lead under splashes of synth, the masterful but restrained glitch solo that sounds sensuous, mottled and scintillating all at once. Eventually, the main beat then drops back in, doubling down in its seductive sinews. As full as the feeling it instills, “The Limit” bereaves you at its end, eliciting a sick craving for just one more listen. – L.B.

Démira – “New Voodoo”

Try to resist “New Voodoo” and you’ll only fall deeper under its black magic spell. This feisty electro/trip-hop song comes from Dutch singer-songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Démira, who incants about “tricky Madonnas” and Catholic guilt with the defiance of M.I.A., Billie Eilish or Florence Welch. “Voodoo,” built on a thrumming Bollywood beat, sounds like it runs on 4 a.m. club energy — partly because Démira wrote it after staying up all night at an underground Paris punk show, seeking a similar adrenaline rush for her song. Démira, a classically trained guitarist and poet, co-produced the track with Gosha Usov (A$AP Rocky, Frank Ocean) at Electric Lady Studio — home of the original voodoo child. – Sarah Grant

Sam Dew – “NTWFL” 

After penning tracks for giants like Rihanna and Jessie Ware, Chicago’s Sam Dew has finally stepped into his own spotlight. The songwriter — best-known for working on Zayn and Taylor Swift’s mammoth 2016 hit “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever (Fifty Shades Darker)” — issued his debut solo LP, Moonlit Fools, in February. And its pulsating lead single, co-produced by Kendrick Lamar’s go-to studio guy Sounwave, absolutely leaps from the speakers. The smoldering, syncopated synth is addictive on its own. But the key is the hook: Dew’s melty interpolation of Gamble and Huff’s “Now That We Found Love.” (Heavy D lives on, sort of.) – Bobby Olivier

Drakeo The Ruler (feat. Drake) – “Talk To Me”

On this moody slice of languid West Coast menace, Drakeo the Ruler takes his first steps toward mainstream attention, sounding perfectly comfortable with the role of street balladeer and succeeding in keeping the focus away from the superstar. Drake sounds so geeked to be working with Drakeo, he turns in a nimble hook that could have come straight out of Take Care itself. But this is Drakeo the Ruler we’re talking about; his dark murmur of a rap voice and flair for subterranean world-building will keep this miles away from any pop playlist blasting in your immediate vicinity, and we’re all the better for it. – Jibril Yassin

Dry Cleaning – “Scratchcard Lanyard”

Indisputably British, this music itself tantalizes — half Wire, half Wilderness, a machinist’s complex contraption. Nick Buxton keeps sly, syncopated time, a head-nodding metronomic paddy-twack. Lewis Maynard’s bass lines are an invisible adhesive. Tom Dowse’s guitars are playful, precise. But it’s the desiccated, scattered wit of frontwoman Florence Shaw that truly gives “Scratchcard Lanyard” its terminal velocity, that makes Dry Cleaning’s signature post-post-punk single go. As a not-quite art-school confidential, it’s aces: Shaw’s narrator is a charmer, a disrupter, a chain-smoking ingenue winking, Mark E. Smith at his cruelest, Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2. “You seem really together, you’ve got a new coat, new hair,” she snarks. “But I tell you one thing, you’ve got it coming/One day, you’re gonna get it.” – Raymond Cummings

Flock of Dimes – “Hard Way”

“Hard Way” plays like a close friend whispering unspeakable truths in your ear. Appropriate, as Flock of Dimes mastermind Jenn Wasner admits discovering subconscious messages to herself throughout the track, hidden in lines like “If I lost your hand / I know I could stand / Without your protection.” A departure from the musician’s usual lush offerings (and the majority of Head of Roses, her second full-length under the moniker), the song is tethered to a barely-there synth line, allowing her voice and vulnerability to fill the frame. No easy answers or sonic release, just a stunning tribute to finding peace in moments of discomfort. – Laura Studarus

Foo Fighters – “No Son of Mine”

The ubiquitous, smiley good-guy version of Dave Grohl is absent from this punky, unrepentant cut, the most aggro moment from Medicine at Midnight. “No Son of Mine” offers dark punk-metal energy and propulsive bombast that would seem better suited for one of his other bands, Them Crooked Vultures. Grohl acknowledged the song’s edgy ethos, telling OK!: “I wish Lemmy were alive to hear it, because he would see how much an influence he’s been to me.” Even the ghostly choral backups accentuate the raw power of this scorching speed demon, adding to “No Son of Mine”’s pedal-to-the-metal perfection. – Katherine Turman

José González – “El Invento”  

José González’s “El Invento,” the songwriter’s debut Spanish language release, is the first great Xennial song about parenting. It’s also his first new music in six years, after taking time to focus on raising his daughter, Laura. The lyrics mirror the relentless questioning of a curious child to “dime por qué será” (“tell me why is it so”). It gently addresses some very heady themes like religion and the mysteries of the universe, but thankfully manages not to preach. González’s understated, elegantly hypnotic classical guitar feels warm and consistently reassuring, like a thoughtful and supportive father. – J.P.B.

Iceage – “The Holding Hand” 

This is Iceage at their most psychedelic. A highlight from their latest LP, Seek Shelter, “The Holding Hand” flaunts their oft-shelved ability for mildness, with dead-eyed equanimity deferring to impassioned surges. It begins softly while amassing kinetic heat through sporadic string flare-ups amidst a churning and capricious electric guitar; it’s all tempered by Elias Bender Rønnenfelt’s characteristically elongated, abstract lyrics that speak of “a smoky rolling mass” and a “limp-wristed God” in what seems like a ghostly transmission from another dimension. “The Holding Hand’ is an all-in-one showcase that emblematizes the album’s eclecticism. – L.B.

Japanese Breakfast – “Be Sweet”

Michelle Zauner has spent enough time exploring the depths of grief. On Jubilee, her third outing as Japanese Breakfast, the singer-songwriter orbits a different, more joyful galaxy. Co-written by Wild Nothing’s Jack Tatum, “Be Sweet” is a bombastic first single, anchored by heavy bass and poppy guitar lines, pointing to the most playful parts of ‘80s/’90s nostalgia. (It doesn’t hurt that the video features Zauner doing her best Dana Scully impression.) By the time she breaks in with a Madonna-like authority, demanding “Tell the men I’m coming / Tell them count the days,” it’s almost impossible to resist the intentionally feel-good tune. In a year still marked with sadness and rage, it’s a much-welcomed drop of sweetness. – L.S.

The Koreatown Oddity – “Breastmilk” 

According to Dominique Purdy, aka the Koreatown Oddity, it’s delicious. The crackling, languid single waltzes into some basic introductory remarks: “People like, ‘Yo, Dominique, man, you lookin’ good,” the rapper observes. But then, bam — things get weird as he breaks down his “regimen” for success. It’s an ode to none other than his “baby mama’s” breastmilk, hinged on the argument, “You drinking cow’s milk — fuck is you doing?” Illuminating the secret to his glowing skin and family dynamic (“Me and my daughter benefit from the nutrition”), Purdy continues to spit out witticisms on his bizarre but boundless love, one after another with incredible consistency. He squeezes a mind-boggling amount into its two-and-a-half-minute runtime, and he writes arguably the funniest hook of all time (which I won’t spoil here). The only downside is a possible sore gut from chronic laughter. Proceed with caution. – L.B.

Lil Nas X – “Montero (Call Me By Your Name)”

Two words: Satan shoes. Lil Nas X is now one of the mainstream’s great authors of spectacle, dropping a two-minute song and a controversial music video — demonic lap dance and all — to commandeer the pop consciousness (not unlike “Old Town Road” did in 2019). His limited line of sneakers, literally injected with human blood, didn’t hurt either. The song itself is a major electro-pop earworm, with flamenco stylings, rumbling low end and Nas X’s deep vocal permeating every pore. It’s a lush, club-ready production that should remain near its chart-topping spot this summer, especially as bars and dancefloors slowly reopen. Any song that resonates widely enough to shock politicians is here to stay. – B.O.

Lord Huron – “Not Dead Yet”

Lord Huron chronicle a rapid decline on this toe-tapping retro folk-rock tune: “You got holes in your clothes, booze on your breath / You look like hell, and you smell like death.” But “Not Dead Yet,” as the title implies, still offers an overwhelming sense of release. The song takes a ride along country back roads — a shift in direction from the eerie sci-fi dreamland of the band’s previous album, Vide Noir. “I’ve been out away too long, heading right for the edge,” Ben Schneider croons. But the following line (“If she asks about me, tell her I’m not dead yet”) suggests the protagonist might not be as doomed as they think. – A.V.

Lushlife – “Dépaysement”

On Lushlife’s Redamancy EP, the Philadelphia rapper deliberately submerges his rhymes in an impressionistic blur of avant-jazz textures and unlikely samples (one track nabs the ghostly voice of atomic bomb developer J. Robert Oppenheimer). The EP’s climax is “Dépaysement,” a nine-minute mini-symphony buoyed by a sample of what sounds like a children’s choir, a feverish guest verse by MC dälek and a rousing free-jazz coda that squawks and wails into the abyss. While the genre is indeterminate, its status as one of the year’s headiest tracks is assured. – Zach Schonfeld

Gabe ‘Nandez – “Ox”

Gabe ‘Nandez has been rapping for years, but “Ox” feels like his coming-out party. Over a crunchy, minimalist beat and airy vocal sample, the New York emcee delivers two and a half minutes of dizzying bars that probably gave Genius transcribers nightmares. Packed to the brim with references spanning The Iliad to Eric B & Rakim to mixed martial artist Lyoto Machida to Dragon Ball’s Vegeta, “Ox” allows ‘Nandez to flex his vast knowledge without sacrificing technical skill. Through this exercise in lyrical dexterity, he proves himself a well-studied wordsmith with a chip on his shoulder. – Josh Svetz

Nonconnah – “To Follow Us Through Fields of Lightning”

At any given moment in this opening cut from Songs For And About Ghosts, you might find yourself lost amid a heavenly choir, halo-jumping into an active feedback volcano or hang-gliding under a celestial matrix of glistening strings and bells. Nonconnah — Tennessee-based married couple Zachary and Denny Corsa — are believers in drone’s positive properties. On “To Follow Us Through Fields of Lightning” they glide into a sort of non-specific shoegaze dreamspace, an area of psychoactive relativity likely to stir different memories in different audiences. One common thread: a cosmic, psychic cleansing. – R.C.

Arlo Parks – “Black Dog”

The characters on Arlo Parks’ first LP, Collapsed in Sunbeams, are no strangers to depression, messy bisexual entanglements and partying to numb the pain. But it’s Parks who struggles on album highlight “Black Dog,” attempting to connect with a friend suffering from suicidal ideation. Her percussive guitar strumming is soft and measured, the sonic equivalent of dust floating across a sunlit room. However, poetic details point to a much darker picture, as mental illness manifests Robert Smith-like eye-makeup, pleas to “go buy some fruit” and the ever-present black dog — a Churchill-derived metaphor for depression. Park’s voice remains calm, but her declaration “I would do anything to get you out your room” resonates — it’s a quietly devastating reminder that no matter how far gone we feel, we’re never alone. – L.S.

Olivia Rodrigo – “drivers license” 

Twitter gossip about a love triangle between three C-list Disney-affiliated singer-actors may have helped propel “drivers license” to a surprise debut atop the Hot 100. But Olivia Rodrigo’s palpable teenage heartbreak in every line — whether or not you care about the backstory — has kept the song ubiquitous through 2021’s first half. Daniel Nigro’s gently cinematic production sways and sighs with humming synths, leaving space for Rodrigo’s voice to rise and rise into a melodramatic sob. Then she regains composure to calmly lament, “You said forever, now I drive alone past your street.” – A.S.

Jorja Smith – “Gone”

“Tell me what to do when the ones you love have gone missing,” Jorja Smith sings, stylishly but mournfully, on this electro-soul ballad, a single from her Be Right Back EP. It’s unclear who’s vanished — or how or why — but that mystery feels fitting within “Gone”’s hypnotic groove. We don’t know the scope of Smith’s loss, but the pain in her swooping croon communicates plenty, pogoing off a watery piano loop and booming trip-hop drums. “On God, I lost you in the moment,” she sings, just as we’re lost in ours. – Ryan Reed

St. Vincent – “Pay Your Way In Pain”

“Pay Your Way In Pain” begins as a casual barroom piano ditty…until it shifts into retro synth-funk loveliness. Tons of sonic treats permeate the sexy slow burn, despite the poignant, painful story the lyrics tell. (“This character is like the fixture in a 2021 psychedelic blues,” the multi-faceted Annie Clark told Apple Music. “And this is basically the sentiment of the blues: truly just kind of being down and out in a country, in a society, that oftentimes asks you to choose between dignity and survival.”) The grit ‘n’ glam dynamic defines “Pay Your Way In Pain”: The tune ends with the dramatic, drawn-out primal scream of “I want to be loved,” her unfettered delivery of that universal dream cutting straight to the soul.  – K.T.

Squid / Martha Skye Murphy – “Narrator” 

“Ten toes, I’ve got five on each,” Ollie Judge matter-of-factly speak-sings, just before bursting into the song’s pinching epiphanic declamation: “I’m my own narrator!” The centerpiece of Squid’s debut full-length, Bright Green Field, “Narrator” vacillates between post-punk and hardcore — coupling Judge’s serrated screams and snotty statements with the citric guitar pickings, warps and waves sprinkled in the background. Martha Skye Murphy’s blasé vocals help to instill a sort of otherworldly unease in the low points as the song gathers momentum. After the eight-minute mark, it climaxes into the harshly shouted “I’ll play mine” amidst her strait-jacketed screeches, ossifying a new exemplar of the current wave of post-punk iconoclasm. – L.B.

Starrah – “Miss This” 

Brittany “Starrah” Hazzard is a big-time songwriter who’s helped pen massive hits for artists like Rihanna and Maroon 5, but social anxiety has reportedly kept her away from the spotlight and more comfortable behind the scenes. So her recent, self-released solo album, The Longest Interlude, feels like a chance to share songs too idiosyncratic or personal to pitch a platinum pop star. Even the flirtatious single “Miss This” is a 102-second oddity where spoken dialogue takes the place of a second verse, occupying some murky space between state-of-the-art Autotune R&B and lo-fi bedroom pop. – A.S.

Tirzah – “Send Me” 

If you long to nullify all negative vibrations and enter a bubble outside the parameters of physics as we know them, play this song. You could drift into unawareness by the uber-minimal kick/muffled hi-hat combo and the lull of a looping, clean-toned bedroom-pop guitar riff. Then there’s Tirzah’s enveloping vocal, gliding in mezzo-soprano and imploring a presumed lover for some space to heal, but not for too long. It’s a skeletal, unadorned track that aims to be a snake in the grass — it’s deceptively simple until the brusque overdrive drowns out the track and washes it away, shocking you out of its slumber. “Send Me” has the power to send you to sleep and bolt you straight up, and it delights in the awareness of its complete control. – L.B.

The Weather Station – “Atlantic”

Tamara Lindeman’s voice is at its expressive best on “Atlantic,” which captures the profound weight of choosing to acknowledge and reckon with impending climate collapse. “I should get all this dying off of my mind,” she sings — her voice somehow desperate and casual all at once — but of course she can’t, and won’t. It’s a disturbingly real sentiment: How can you enjoy the natural world without being eternally haunted by what we have done and will still do to it? The song’s musical backing, with its vibrating disco backbeat, sounds rich and alive, bustling with the simultaneous exuberance and anxiety conveyed in the song. – Z.S.

Hayley Williams – “First Thing to Go” 

“Time moves slow, I just talk to myself,” Hayley Williams croons on “First Thing to Go,” the heartrending opener to her surprise solo sequel, Flowers for Vases / Descansos. That sentiment inevitably links the February LP to pandemic isolation — fitting, as Williams wrote and recorded the whole thing during quarantine, playing every instrument and penning some of her saddest tunes to date. This folky acoustic dirge is both eloquent and painful, as Williams unpacks lost romance and the slow disappearance of a lover from her memory. It’s the most re-listenable track off an album loaded with anguish and searching for peace. – B.O.

Willow (feat. Travis Barker) – “t r a n s p a r e n t s o u l” 

If you’re gonna go full pop-punk, you might as well hire a master. “t r a n s p a r e n t s o u l,” the lead single from Willow’s upcoming fifth LP, is built on the signature drum drama of Blink-182’s Travis Barker: the king of rapid-fire hi-hats and floor toms. And Willow matches that vibe with cathartic F-bombs and lines about two-faced “fake friends” who sell secrets for cash — all building to a gloriously yelped chorus. It may just sound like youthful angst, but as she told Rolling Stone, the single was influenced by a quote from Hindu guru Radhanath Swami. – R.R.

Listen to all of the songs on our Spotify playlist below.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Despite what some “best of” blurb intros may tell you, there is no exact science to list-making. And constructing one so methodically just might ruin the joy altogether — for both us, the curators, and you, the readers.

Even though debate is a natural reaction, anger is not. These stories are supposed to be fun! And hopefully unique — who wants to read the exact same list at every publication? Sure, SPIN‘s Best Albums of 2021 (So Far) does feature some of the year’s biggest buzz bands. But we hope you’ll also discover some records that slipped through the cracks — and maybe, just maybe, reconsider some LPs you previously dismissed.

More from Spin:

• King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard Reboot Their Festival
• THE 40 GREATEST MUSICIANS OF THE LAST 40 YEARS
• Foo Fighters, Guns N’ Roses Ready For Rockville

Let’s meet back here in six months and see how things shake out.

Adjective Animal – America’s Got Talons

For over a decade, Jon Birkholz has been a valued secret weapon in the Baltimore music scene — a multi-instrumentalist whose work ranges from the avant hip-hop of Soul Cannon to the indie-pop of Super City. But Birkholz has come into his own as a singer and songwriter on his second Adjective Animal project, a cathartic breakup record with the deceptively punny title America’s Got Talons. There’s a proggy complexity to the rhythms on “Octo” and “Strip Parade,” but the album’s heart is the story of a relationship slowly ending as two people drift apart. – Al Shipley

Altın Gün – Yol

While Altın Gün has always put a modern twist on traditional Turkish music, their latest album, Yol, is equally indebted to old-world folk and the Drive soundtrack. Adding synths and drum machines to their dizzying psychedelia melded a glimmer of dark-wave to the Dutch-Turkish collective’s already genre-hopping sound. This sonic tweak is an unexpected but highly welcome byproduct of band members file-sharing demos amidst a global pandemic, given the impossibility of in-person studio time. The result? Electro-pop jams like “Yüce Dag Basinda,” which wouldn’t sound out of place on a Dua Lipa album. It’s as if someone hung a giant disco ball over the Anatolian Peninsula for the ultimate dose of futuristic nostalgia. – Jessica Gentile

Architects – For Those That Wish to Exist

Now nine albums in, one of modern metal’s most looked-upon leaders grows stronger still. After 2018’s Holy Hell was widely revered as one of the decade’s finest metalcore projects, Britain’s Architects delivered an incendiary follow-up — a concept album of sorts, unraveling humans’ destruction of Earth (and whether there’s time to turn our shit around). At nearly an hour, Exist is a long ride, but certain moments are among their most accessible: Throttling singles “Animals” and “Black Lungs” are instant arena-rage anthems, and “Impermanence,” featuring a brutal guest spot from Parkway Drive frontman Winston McCall, is primed for long-awaited mosh pits. – Bobby Olivier

Maria Arnal i Marcel Bagés – CLAMOR 

From Brazil’s Tropicália to Russia’s Pussy Riot, dissent music flirts with being silenced. But it often just gets louder. CLAMOR, the second album from Maria Arnal and Marcel Bagés, is slow-burn synthpop fueled by Catalonia’s grapple for independence. The group’s 2017 LP condemned Spain’s Civil War and politics outright. CLAMOR’s danceable dread isn’t preachy, though guitarist Bagés has called the record a “warning of mourning.” Arnal bends grievances into lullabies: “You bring out my animality,” she whispers on “Fiera de mi.” Tension bleeds between the lines, and goats bleat between songs. CLAMOR is indeed a different animal.  – Patrick Flanary 

Benny the Butcher / Harry Fraud – The Plugs I Met 2

With Harry Fraud manning the production boards, Benny the Butcher revisits familiar stomping grounds for a belated victory lap. After last year’s high-profile Burden of Proof, Benny returns to the gutters to talk shit and process everything that could have gone wrong, with vintage Fraud beats giving his words the right touch of melancholy. The Griselda stock has risen considerably over the past several years, yet even with blockbuster guests like 2 Chainz, French Montana, Fat Joe and Jim Jones on The Plugs I Met 2, the Butcher holds his own, thanks to his razor-sharp wordplay and nostalgic storytelling eye. – Jibril Yassin 

Black Country, New Road – For the First Time

Following the smokescreen stun of their chameleonic debut, these post-punks gained unanimous appeal with follow-up For the First Time. Their signature sound is equal parts angsty strain and intimate rumination — marrying prickly, raucous guitars with smooth violin and sax. Within that weird blend of polished pleasantry and Dionysian abandon, you’ll find the temperamental spoken-sung lyrics of singer-guitarist Isaac Woods, who documents absurd situations (feeling invincible in sunglasses on a stroll, vexing out over kids dressing like Richard Hell, post-work habits of Gen-X parents), whether in a whispered deadpan or in urgent bombast. They were christened “the best in the entire world” over a year before their debut even came out. Now they’re no less than the gold standard of whatever experimental wave we’re currently riding. – Logan Blake

Black Midi – Cavalcade

There’s no argument the dudes in Black Midi can play. They’ll burn down your house with loopy time signatures and frenetic riffs if you let them. But as with all experimental music, such virtuosity needs a reason to exist. Cavalcade, feels a bit more grounded than the U.K. group’s acclaimed debut, 2019’s Schlagenheim, anchoring its chameleonic style shifts — more jazz on this one, for sure — to third-person characters: cult leaders, ancient corpses, cabaret queen Marlene Dietrich (who earns her own song title). The instrumentals still nod to Primus and King Crimson, but there’s singularity too. Album opener “John L” is confident in its cacophonous drama, and the climactic, crashing final minute of “Chondromalacia Patella” deserves a special “fuck yes.” – B.O.

Dry Cleaning – New Long Leg 

Dry Cleaning have been saddled with the label of “next great post-punk band” — a forever impossible title to live up to. But unlike most other flavors of the moment, the London quartet actually deliver the goods on their debut LP. Singer Florence Shaw’s poetic narratives vacillate between funny and cynical — the consistent eye of the hurricane in these melodic and moody tracks, including the chiming title tune and punchy centerpiece “Scratchyard Lanyard.” New Long Leg is a scintillating launching pad for one of the year’s most exciting bands. – Daniel Kohn

Floating Points, Pharoah Sanders & the London Symphony Orchestra – Promises

Promises is an abstract jazz masterpiece so airy and malleable that it bends to every interpretation and none at all. Is it a late-career marvel from an avant-jazz legend whose career dates back more than half a century? A swelling tone poem of improvisational genius? A remarkable cross-generational collaboration released at a time in which in-person collaboration felt like a luxurious memory? An upturned middle finger at the industry culture of streaming numbers and playlisting goals? A cosmic soundtrack to a movie that does not yet exist? Yes. Yes, it is. – Zach Schonfeld

Flock of Dimes – Head of Roses

As a touring member of Bon Iver and one-half of Wye Oak, Jenn Wasner has established herself as a team player. But her second solo LP as Flock of Dimes showcases an artist forced to sit alone and make peace with uncertainty. Shifting away from the electropop of her debut, Head of Roses is full of spacious guitar compositions, designed to draw attention to Wasner’s silky voice — a winsome instrument used to deliver rough truths. “Hope is still keeping my head above water/ ‘Til the moment before I choke,” she sings with Dolly Parton-ish longing on “Awake for the Sunrise.” Wasner may be striving for joy, but roses can’t grow without dirt. – Laura Studarus

Foo Fighters – Medicine at Midnight 

Foo Fighters’ 2017’s LP, Concrete and Gold, was their first team-up with Greg Kurstin, the super-producer behind chart-topping smashes by pop stars like Adele and Kelly Clarkson. The musical potential of their union felt, sadly, muddled and unrealized. But the second time around, Kurstin and Dave Grohl’s chemistry clicked, resulting in the band’s shortest and most unpredictable album — and the rare Foo Fighters record where the best songs aren’t the big singles. “Making A Fire” has a classic rock strut complete with backup singers that sound beamed in from the “Sweet Home Alabama” sessions, while “Love Dies Young” piles welcome new wave gloss on the guitars. – A.S.

Greta Van Fleet – The Battle at Garden’s Gate

Kudos to Greta Van Fleet for ignoring all those haters who call them Led Zeppelin wannabes — and for making an album that, well, still sounds a lot like Zeppelin, but with more varied and towering instrumentals than GVF’s polarizing 2018 debut. The Battle at Garden’s Gate, co-helmed by pop super-producer Greg Kurstin, adds some welcome polish. But they still explore epic worlds of fantasy and grandeur — oh, how they’d fit on a Dungeons and Dragons movie soundtrack — with mid-album pairing “Age of Machine” and “Tears of Rain” adding new power to the young band’s catalog. The record’s merit still largely hinges on whether you dig their retro touch. If you can’t tolerate it, fine. But GVF scratch a unique itch for rock fans — including many who won’t admit their enjoyment publicly. – B.O.

Dave Heumann – At Heights We Sway, At Depths We Speak

Whether as a member of Arboretum, in collaboration with Nathan Bell or by his lonesome, Baltimore’s Dave Heumann has always been a sonic seeker. For At Heights We Sway, At Depths We Speak, his guitars and effects become a magic carpet, a thing of polyphonic Yume Bitsu cruise folk. Sometimes the vibe is thick with azure; at others, a strummed hush descends or a small army of stinging blues licks ring out like clarions or harmonics intersect such that you’ll swear you’re hearing voices that aren’t really there. Heumann’s ruminations haunt and quest, conquering subconsciousness, taking root there. – Raymond Cummings

Iceage – Seek Shelter

Iceage have mastered the art of slowing down without softening. The Danish band’s latest album, Seek Shelter, is a long way from the nihilistic roar of 2011’s New Brigade, dabbling in gospel flourishes and Britpop swagger. Sonic Boom, a rare outside producer permitted into the group’s insular world, helps to widen their sound. But the group’s signature ferocity is intact, jostled up against the elegiac swoons of the Lisboa Gospel Collective (“Shelter Song”) or the Screamadelica-gone-punk shuffle of “Vendetta.” And Elias Bender Rønnenfelt, no longer the teenager he was when Iceage first shot to fame, remains the poet laureate of a new generation of sullen punks, whether interpolating the Christian hymn “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” (“High & Hurt”) or crooning dark wisdom about murder (“The Wider Powder Blue”). – Z.S.

Cassandra Jenkins – An Overview on Phenomenal Nature

Timing rarely aligns for an album, a songwriter and a sound. But when it does, it can be a beautiful thing. That’s exactly what happened for Cassandra Jenkins. Her second album, An Overview on Phenomenal Nature, isn’t just a clever title — it’s a feeling captured in perhaps the loveliest 31 minutes of music released this year. These songs are defined by a colorful, delicate vibe that would make Fleet Foxes proud. But there’s a deceptive depth in Jenkins’ exquisite storytelling, full of characters — a psychic, a security guard — that enrich her musical world. – D.K.

Valerie June – The Moon and Stars: Prescriptions for Dreamers 

Valerie June’s celestial voice is a meditative guide through her evolving style of astral roots music. Her latest album, a collaboration with producer Jack Splash, takes some major creative leaps forward, moving well beyond the front-porch leanings of her earlier work to include orchestral backdrops (“Stay”) and programmed beats (“Within You”). But these embellishments are never overdone. Instead, they cradle June’s cosmic pondering in a colorful atmosphere that brightens the swirling folk of “You and I” and deepens the vulnerable sentiment of “Call Me a Fool,” a lush R&B ballad featuring an assist from Memphis soul legend Carla Thomas. – Jedd Ferris 

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard – L.W.

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard are tirelessly prolific in a way that few other modern bands could hope to keep up with, issuing their 17th studio album in less than a decade. L.W., like its 2020 counterpart, K.G., continues the band’s recent interest in microtonal tuning, with melodies that evoke traditional Middle Eastern music filtered through their signature psych-rock sound. And while the band’s softly sung vocals often feel like window dressing to their dense instrumental grooves, there’s plenty to unpack in there too: Some songs build on their interconnected “Grizzverse” narrative, while “Supreme Ascendancy” decries the hypocrisy of the Catholic church. – A.S.

Genesis Owusu – Smiling With No Teeth

This Ghanaian-Australian artist’s audacious, conceptual debut immediately positioned itself as an Album of the Year contender. Using the double metaphor of the black dog (representing depression and racism) as its vehicle, Smiling With No Teeth details a fraught self-exploration of internal and external parameters of perception, taking on a solipsistic salience amidst a dexterous musical backdrop that eludes classification. The album incorporates more influences than it leaves out – dipping into soul, punk, electronica, R&B, hip-hop and pop (to name but a sliver) – while melding them all into a collage that transcends what, in others’ hands, could have been genre-splicing gimmickry. – L.B.

Arlo Parks – Collapsed in Sunbeams

Arlo Parks’ debut album, Collapsed in Sunbeams, develops her early EPs’ addictive blend of introspective bedroom-pop, indie-folk, R&B and jazz into something magnificent. The 20-year-old’s vocal performance here is all cream and honey, even in less-than-peachy moments like “Caroline,” which details the artist’s real-world observation of a couple arguing in public, or “Too Good,” as in a lover who’s too good to be true. Largely co-written with L.A.-based songwriter Gianluca Buccellati, the record grooves like no other — a terrific warm-weather soundtrack. It’s sort of sinful she released it in the dead of winter. – B.O.

Bruno Pernadas – Private Reasons

Don’t let the 75-minute run time scare you off. And don’t be intimidated by the sprawl — Bruno Pernadas‘ fourth LP is almost disorienting in his ambition, switching styles like an indecisive shopper trying on shoes. Private Reasons is a lot to soak in. The hazy synth-pop of “Family Vows” builds to a psychedelic guitar solo then descends into a nightmare of processed vocals. “Little Season I” falls somewhere between orchestral-pop and arty R&B. “Lafeta Uti” adds gooey ’80s synths to its Afrobeat groove. The sweet psych of “Brio 81” veers into a buzzy little jazz-fusion coda. Embrace the chaos. – Ryan Reed

Pink Sweat$ – Pink Planet

David Bowden got his nickname from emulating Cam’ron’s fashion sense, but the Philadelphia polymath’s music leans toward plush R&B and regal pop balladry, boasting a Bruno Mars skill set with a less campy retro aesthetic. “When I was growing up, I used to go through the radio and I would make it a habit to listen to all the different genre stations,” Bowden explains at one point on his debut full-length, a sleeper hit that’s quietly racked up a half-billion streams without any songs breaking the Hot 100. Pink Planet alternates between tightly syncopated live band grooves (“Magic”) and syrupy slow jams (“At My Worst”), but one song stands apart: “Not Alright,” a sleek, brooding banger that sounds like his “Billie Jean.” – A.S.

Really From – Really From 

It’s almost impossible to innovate in our post-genre world, but it’s also hard to find another band on Really From‘s wavelength. On their first album under that name (following two projects as People Like You), the Boston-based Berklee grads draw on angsty emo, turbulent math-rock and oceanic jazz-fusion — the backdrop for their ruminations on family identity, race, sexual fetishization and other weighty subjects. Take “I’m From Here,” which opens in a floating, fingerpicked atmosphere and builds with sighing trumpets, palm-muted power chords and proggy rim-click drum grooves. The ingredients are familiar, but the flavor is distinctive. – R.R.

Spirit of the Beehive – Entertainment, Death

Philly’s Spirit of the Beehive seem to have compacted life itself into two weighty, diametrically opposed concepts. Entertainment, Death finds form when cohering into either a hazy dream-pop melody or a crunching, two-ton wall of sound, breathlessly alternating between bliss and belligerence. It’s quite a ride. You can’t tell when one song begins and the other ends; neither can you ever tell what’s actually happening. At some points, it’s an amorphous flow of glitter lasers and gusts, rapid-fire drums and oscillation discombobulations. At others, it’s a tide pool of iridescent glass shards. Listening to it through and through is like candy-flipping in someone else’s dream while passed out on an amusement park log ride. – L.B.

tUnE-yArDs – sketchy.

Now five albums deep, Merrill Garbus and Nate Brenner continue to build on a socially conscious art-pop sound that can be both exhilaratingly frenetic and enticingly soulful. sketchy. hits familiar sonic angles, boldly bouncing between the raw, rhythmic pulse of the group’s early efforts and the electronic experiments heavily deployed on 2018’s I can feel you creep into my private life. “nowhere, man” starts with industrial dissonance but eventually drops into a dance-ready groove, while “hypnotized” is sweet and steady throughout, matching the message of resilience in the face of anxiety. Along the way, Garbus also uses her acrobatic voice to address other weighty topics, including the climate crisis, gentrification and reproductive rights, but she never claims to have all the answers. Instead of holding a protest, tUnE-yArDs host a thought-provoking party. – J.F.

Viagra Boys – Welfare Jazz

On their second LP, these Swedish post-punk dirtbags deliver a sophisticated, genre-hopping album packed with scathing lyrics, squelching horns and stomping anthems. Frontman Sebastian Murphy takes us on a kaleidoscopic journey kicking off with “Ain’t Nice,” a savage dance-punk stunner with big DFA Records energy. There’s ‘80s synth street urchin sci-fi horror with “Creatures,” throbbing instrumental krautrock with “6 Shooter,” spoken word weirdness, lots of dog imagery, a 30-second song titled “Cold Play.” It all culminates with a stuttering, surreal cover of John Prine’s country duet “In Spite of Ourselves” featuring Amy Taylor of Amyl and the Sniffers doing Iris DeMent’s part. What more could you ask for? – John Paul Bullock

Ryley Walker – Course in Fable

The darkness that preceded Course in Fable — the addiction, the motel room suicide attempt, the redemption via rehab — threatens to overshadow the music. But Ryley Walker‘s mind-boggling new LP finds its own compelling narrative: Embracing his inner prog nerd, he crafted his most meticulous and colorful songs to date. The centerpiece — aided by the hi-fi glow of producer John McEntire (Tortoise) — is opener “Striking Down Your Big Premiere,” his words globbed like impressionistic paint over a canvas of psychedelic arpeggio and jazzy licks. – R.R.

The Weather Station – Ignorance

Tamara Lindeman and her band have been recording as the Weather Station for more than a decade, yet the name has never seemed more apt than on Ignorance, an uncommonly moving exploration of the grief and denial that accompanies our inexorable slide into climate crisis. With world-weary wisdom, Lindeman surveys colonial greed (“Robber”), willful obliviousness (“Atlantic”) and the painful reckoning that comes with deciding “to live as if the truth was true” (“Loss”). But Ignorance never wallows in apocalyptic despair. It helps that the songs luxuriate in a widescreen jazz-pop production, a heightened emotional expression for a subject that too frequently inspires numbness and cynicism. – Z.S.

Hayley Williams – FLOWERS for VASES/descansos 

The surprise sequel to Hayley Williams’ 2020 solo debut unfurls the Paramore leader’s saddest and quietest music to date. The record was written entirely in quarantine, with the singer playing every instrument — mostly acoustic guitar and piano — as she clings to previous emotional wreckage. It’s a beautiful record, eloquently arranged, though the uniform anguish and minimal catharsis make for a challenging listen. Highlights include the impassioned and austere folk opener “First Thing to Go” and “Asystole,” driven by a Latin-inspired guitar line. – B.O.

Joyce Wrice – Overgrown 

After adding vocals to acclaimed albums by acts like Westside Gunn, Amine and Free Nationals, L.A. singer-songwriter Joyce Wrice flourishes with Overgrown, an indie debut better than most major-label R&B albums in recent memory. Grammy-winning producer D’Mile (H.E.R.) and a crew of hip guests (including Freddie Gibbs and KAYTRANADA) certainly contribute to the album’s high quality. But Wrice — who sings a verse of “That’s On You” in Japanese but otherwise writes in English with a plainspoken vulnerability — deserves credit for the velvety harmonies, which evoke ‘90s Brandy. – A.S.

YUNGMORPHEUS & ewonee  – Thumbing Thru Foliage

L.A. emcee YUNGMORPHEUS and New York producer ewonee strike a winning game plan on their full-length collab. ewonee pulls from a grab bag of grainy soul loops, fragmented sci-fi broadcasts and blunted boom-bap while YUNGMORPHEUS fits them to rhymes that bounce between the lurid and irreverent, peeling off jaded socio-economic barbs and internal monologues. Delivering these bars could have been a disaster in anyone else’s hands. But thanks to YUNGMORPHEUS’ casual tone and stream-of-consciousness delivery, this dizzying approach works, giving Thumbing Thru Foliage a melodic bounce that scans as both cathartic and confrontational. – J.Y.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Great songs have a freedom that albums don’t because great songs only have to pull off their trick once. It’s like how a great SNL sketch can be a terrible movie or why Vine was an underrated miracle of online comedy. Sometimes an artist can get a lot more done in miniature. When people say that no one listens to albums anymore, they’re obviously mistaken, but they mean that no one listens to certain kinds of albums anymore. They won’t wait to get to the good part, and an industry that’s been padding out their wares for decades has had to adapt to a new reality where the customer is always dope.

From Hailey Whitters to Hayley Williams, from King Von to Christine and the Queens, here’s a supercut of just the good parts: The songs that have challenged and delighted and comforted us through a fucking weird crisis. Here are our favorite à la carte musical moments that have defined the first half of 2020.

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50. Lizzo, “A Change Is Gonna Come”

The National Anthem for a country that hasn’t changed nearly enough since it was written, sung by our real president. She loves us, we got this, give her the EGOT. — Dan Weiss

49. Bob Dylan, “I Contain Multitudes”

“There’s so many ‘sides’ to Bob Dylan, he’s round,” somebody (Bob Dylan?) is supposed to have said; “I Contain Multitudes,” a revolving kaleidoscope of couplets and cliches, plays as a thesis statement for more than just Dylan’s late style. The Poe and Blake references are hilariously shallow, but a kaleidoscope doesn’t take you deeper into anything. Instead it reveals stranger things happening on the surface of the world than you could see before you started turning it, catching it in its own light. “Everything’s flowing, all at the same time,” this holographic projection of a singing Transcendental cowboy reports, and then makes an ominous allusion to John Wilkes Boothe, again. — Theon Weber

48. New Kids on the Block feat. Boyz II Men, Big Freedia, Jordin Sparks, & Naughty by Nature, “House Party”

1. The demand for new new jack swing greatly exceeds the supply; just look at Bruno Mars. God bless but he can’t take all those requests by himself. If he’s New Jack Santa Claus (with Another Bad Creation as his workshop of elves), these are his trusty reindeer: On Teddy, on Riley, on Nasty, on Freaky, on Tony, on Toni, on Toné, on Do Me,  on Poison, on Cooleyhighharmony.

2. The last time Justin Timberlake had a song this good was “My Love.” Stay mad.

3. Yes, the video is a big part of it. Oh, I’m sorry, are you too busy to watch? — D.W.

47. Whethan feat. Grandson, “All in My Head”

Electro-pop producer Whethan lets his punk side shine on this two-and-a-half-minute heart racer. Wits are abandoned on the crunching, overripe bass and “Song 2” clang of the beat, while Grandson’s angsty, apathetic vocals drip with the cocky attitude of disaffected youth. “All in My Head” wants you to make bad but harmless decisions, like doing donuts in the Walgreens parking lot. If you’re listening to this song, you’re 19. It doesn’t matter if you’re 45 years old, now you’re 19. — Kat Bein

46. Bright Eyes, “Persona Non Grata”

Conor Oberst is still a thoughtful, songful, extravagantly detailed troubadour under his own name. His self-titled 2008 record ranks among the very top of his achievements, and the hydraulic anticapitalist outrage of Desaparecidos was ahead of the curve on both Occupy and the triumph of St. Bernard. But his emo quotient as Bright Eyes has incomparable gravitas. The strophic New Dylan-ing, the labyrinthine album intros, the Donnie Darko stare above the mouth where quavering doomsday-prophet lyrics come out; it’s been nine years since any of it. The new dystopia is putting on a kilt to the strains of a Bollywood song, for a date, no less, with someone “underfed and depressed.” And then come the bagpipes. — D.W.

45. Breland, “My Truck”

If the song’s not stuck in your head within 40 seconds, you win a free truck. There won’t be any winners today. Except for Sam Hunt, who would like his Billy Ray “Old Town Road” money now. — D.W.

44. The Strokes, “The Adults Are Talking”

“They will blame us, crucify and shame us / We can’t help it, if we are a problem,” Julian Casablancas murmurs, exacting, coiled, so, so numb. “We are trying hard to get your attention.” He could be singing for or to your parents, your children, you. Impeccably syncopated and broadly halcyon, “The Adults Are Talking” exists in a murky space where past, present, and future intersect, uncertainly — that grey area where Philip Larkin’s famed poem “This Be The Verse” makes more sense than any of us would care to admit. Meanwhile, the music bears an overdetermined, filigreed snap that, somehow, the Strokes execute offhandedly, casually, with a patient elan. — Raymond Cummings

43. Rina Sawayama, “STFU!”

Rina Sawayama threw nü-metal a surprise party for its 20th birthday and everyone’s invited, except for the real-life industry racists whose comments her antagonist/dinner date quoted verbatim in the video. Let the bodies hit the floor, starting with those guys. — D.W.

42. Caribou, “New Jade”

“Dolla dealin’ passer?” “Dolphin dealer passive?” The sampled vocal loop that opens “New Jade” is essentially gibberish — Dan Snaith has squished the sound into a strange new shape, fashioning yet another hypnotic, electronic hook from a second-long snippet of melody. After a couple repetitions of the line, the tongue-speaking sounds like a familiar language. New questions arise: Is that a synth or a pitch-shifted guitar? Hold up, a hammered dulcimer? — Ryan Reed

41. ITZY, “Wannabe”

That the winding music-box noises, flamenco guitar strums, will.i.am-circa-“Scream and Shout” sub-bass presets, and skittering Timbaland programming all assert themselves before the first verse has ended is a hallmark of the best generation-blending K-Pop maximalism. The keep-it-simple-stupid chorus (“I don’t want to be somebody / Just wanna be me” — who can’t relate?) is a respectable interjection from the West. And the dancing could come from anywhere if you believe in yourself. — D.W.

40. Chad Matheny, “The Ballad of HPAE Local 5058”

As the brainy Emperor X, Chad Matheny has proffered astoundingly empathetic laptop-emo-folk tunes for more than 20 years. But in the last few, surviving his own battle with testicular cancer has only sharpened a determination to clarify the world’s unsolvable healthcare crisis to the faithful tune-seekers that sponsor his Bandcamp releases. “I owe 30,000 euros to the German corporation / That just cured me of a terminal cancer / Now I’ve got 87 notices reminding me / They can’t care at all if my ending came too soon,” he sang in 2017, devoid of metaphor. Three years later, he resurrects the old Woody Guthrie template to dig deeper into that industry’s corruption, even going as far as calling out the “stockpiles of PPE” not serviced to healthcare workers. What does it mean when a singer-songwriter’s specifics are more painstakingly reported than entire websites claiming journalism? He even cites his sources. — D.W.

https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=844517892/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/artwork=small/track=573341087/transparent=true/

39. Eminem feat. Juice WRLD, “Godzilla”

Eminem is more or less a fire hydrant at this point, with a reliably unstoppable flow, but it’s often not necessary and sometimes even in the way. When you need it, though, it doesn’t take long to realize how much you take its presence for granted. Sure, that metaphor was a little slippery, but the man’s fripperies can still cripple these peripheral MCs in triplicate and rip them to bits while they’re taking shits and be a pain in their ass like pilonidal cysts. — D.W.

38. Hailey Whitters, “All the Cool Girls”

You work with Lori McKenna (“Girl Crush,” “Humble and Kind”) if you want a great tune, not a TikTok smash. So here’s a cheerfully snippy one from a wallflower trying to get her Daria on but can’t play it, well, cool enough to be dispassionate observer, and before she knows it, the whole cigarette pack is gone. Just because “all the cool girls can’t decide who they want to be tonight” doesn’t make her feel more at ease, so why not, over verses that hint at spooky dub, contemplate joining them? Sometimes a “midsummer night dream / the top-down Cadillac, blue jeans”  requires just the right balance of self-assurance, longing to be someone else, and a killer chorus. — D.W.

37. Jasmine Infiniti, “Yes, Sir”

If we must live with a throbbing, blistering headache through the waking hours, it’s only fair that we are allowed to dance to it. The degraded sonics, irretrievable sample, hi-hats rusted into a wet rattle of chainlinks, bass coiled around your nerves like an inoperable tumor, all it points to is that the only true drop in this world is death.  — D.W.

36. Billie Eilish, “No Time to Die”

It’s safe to say that 2020 doesn’t suck for Billie Eilish. Not long after turning 18, she scooped the Big Four awards at the Grammys and made history before following that up with another milestone: Becoming the youngest artist to pen and record a theme song to a James Bond film. “No Time to Die” — as always, written with her brother FINNEAS — is one for the Bond tune pantheon alongside Adele’s “Skyfall” and Shirley Bassey’s “Diamonds Are Forever,” thanks to Eilish’s beyond-her-years soprano that tops a quietly haunted melody with icicles. The movie’s release may have been pushed back, but by the time theaters are a thing again, its theme song will have already conquered audiences worldwide. — Jolie Lash

35. King Von, “Took Her to the O”

You try enunciating the word “Kankakee” six times in one song without your tongue turning to molasses.— D.W.

34. The 1975, “If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)”

Matt Healy personifies the restless millennial id, so who better than the 1975 frontman to document the sadness, hilarity, awkwardness and — just maybe — euphoria of the erotic Zoom call? After a swirl of ghostly ambience, with FKA twigs’ choral voice amongst the reverb, the band slips into the kind of revisionist ’80s posh sheen that few others can convincingly pull off. (These sort of suicide missions are the 1975’s whole Thing.) There’s a gleaming, high-octave guitar lick. There’s a sax solo that bridges Spandau Ballet’s “True” and M83’s “Midnight City.” Then there’s Healy, recounting his FaceTime hook-up with journaled detail. “I just wanted a happy ending,” he sings. Now we all need a towel. — R.R.

33. Psychic Graveyard, “No”

Every person mourns in their own unique way, but the bereaved clod Psychic Graveyard singer Eric Paul invents for “No” is in a league of his very own. This guy’s solipsistic, overly literal, his mind orbiting another planet, the mix unevenly doubling his inner monologues: “What do I wear to your funeral / When we were together, I never wore clothes.” Synth player Nathan Joyner, guitarist Paul Vieira, and drummer Charles Ovett all up the psychodrama by savage degrees, leading off with a grinding, foghorn dirge that eventually expands into a punishing industrial hailstorm. Of course the home of this bleak, dour thrill is entitled A Bluebird Vacation. — R.C.

32. Banoffee, “Permission”

Rape is no longer a taboo subject. Hell, both of America’s major-party presidential nominees have been accused of sexual assault. Society is overdue to face the music, and in the case of Australian dancer-turned-singer Banoffee’s sparse electro-ballad “Permission,” the intimate, arresting track is both sobering and empowering, a standout between Look at Us Now Dad‘s glittering, synth-heavy bops. “It was a way of me processing how my boundaries had been broken,” she told NPR. “I expected people to love me a certain way, but it very quickly twists into something darker and more sinister and speaks about the type of consent that can be broken, that can break someone.” — K.B.

31. Sada Baby feat. King Von, “Pressin”

In a scene with no shortage of local legends (Veeze, Drego and Beno), Sada Baby stands tall as the most prominent figure of Detroit’s current street rap renaissance. As prolific as he is charismatic, Sada will aggressively, gleefully rap about pouring pints and stealing your girl in the same breath. “Pressin” is the biggest standout from Skuba Sada 2, the second Sada Baby project of 2020 before we even reached the halfway point. The funereal keys and ricocheting, mortar-round drums lay the perfect foundation for Sada and King Von’s tag-team threats. You don’t want to get clowned by a dude who even jokes about calling himself a “walking lick.” — Max Bell

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

On one hand, who can think about stuff as trivial as this? On the other, what else is there to do? If art was made to fill a cultural vacuum, well… now’s the fucking time, buddy. Hopefully, you’ve been binging every show, reading every book, repainting every bathroom you’ve been putting off. Hopefully, when (and if) we make it out of quarantine alive, we’ll be able to look forward to better things. For now, we still have music.

Some of the great albums and EPs below demand your full and undivided attention. Some of them demand to intensify your workout or gaming session. Mostly they just sound good, and you should pair them with whatever activities music enhances for you. Even sleep; lord knows that could be improved upon. Others will keep you wide awake. If any of these albums make you think, sing-along, scream, laugh, or dance, this list will have done its job. But judging by these titles, music is healthier than ever, even if little else is. Fire it up.

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AceMoMa, A New Dawn (Haus of Altr)
Jazzy, frenetic, soulful, Adrian Mojica and Wyatt Stevens’s first LP as a duo mines the rawest energies of ’90s house and techno on a 12-track collection that should make their TR-909 ancestors proud. Mining their club roots in tribute of the African-American and Latinx producers that came before them, AceMoMa’s very first full-length both honors the lineage and adds a strong new link to the chain. It also slaps. Close your eyes and get transported to warehouses of yore. We swear you can taste the smoke machine. — Kat Bein

Fiona Apple, Fetch the Bolt Cutters (Epic)
Bitter and sweet, fragile and tough, the percussive Fetch the Bolt Cutters finds Fiona Apple concluding a raw journey of self-discovery. Apple’s fifth studio album — her first since 2012’s The Idler Wheel… — is her most liberating. Full of free-form melodies and jazzy piano bars, it’s Apple’s most full-bodied work yet, ironically without a studio orchestra. Spending time alone has left the singer to reflect on everything from the evil of entitlement (“Relay”) to her complicated relationship with fame as a teen (“Fetch the Bolt Cutters”) and how the power imbalance sadly entwined the two. As she jaggedly rips apart her own layers, her mantric repetition of phrases (“Like you know you should know, but you don’t know where it’s at,” “Shameika said I had potential”) is as jarring as it is a balm for life. Made at home in isolation and released during a pandemic, it’s undeniable how eerily prescient she was. “Fetch the bolt cutters / I’ve been in here too long,” Apple whispers over her own barking dogs. She’s not wrong. She’s all of us. — Ilana Kaplan

Bad Bunny, YHLQMDLB (Rimas)
“Yo hago lo que me da la gana” means “I do whatever I want,” just like “urbano” means “for lack of a better term.” It beats “world music” though, and if any artist requires a big stylistic umbrella, it’s Benito Ocasio, whose cosmopolitan approach to genre and gender has won him universal acclaim and sales even before this sprawling artistic breakthrough made him reggaeton’s most indispensable melodist. For 20 straight winners, Bad Bunny corners and captures every stray tunelet out of thin air, whether it’s the gargled hook of “P FKN R” or the soaring refrain of “Soliá” or the sparkling emeralds that comprise the gorgeous backdrop to “Pero Ya No.” In fact, its front end is rather gorgeous, too. — Dan Weiss

Beauty Pill, Please Advise (Northern Spy)
Washington D.C.’s Beauty Pill started out two decades ago as far and away the most futuristic and electronic band on Dischord Records. And bandleader Chad Clark, producing under the playfully aggrandizing but fitting alias ‘Brown Eno,’ continues to assemble soundscapes that are at once forward-thinking and dreamily psychedelic on this four-song EP, their first new music since 2015’s rapturously received masterwork Beauty Pill Describes Things as They Are. New vocalist Erin Nelson serenely intones verbiage recycled from Prince and Donald Trump among other public figures in the surreal cut-and-paste incantation “Pardon Our Dust,” while Clark offers a raspy, broken-beat take on the polyrhythmic Pretenders classic “Tattooed Love Boys.” If only this amazing title (the words of Miles Davis’ A&R upon learning he was about to call something Bitches Brew) was paired with a full-length. — Al Shipley

Black Dresses, Peaceful as Hell (Blacksquares)
Like Blade Runner, which takes place one year earlier, Peaceful as Hell opens with police sirens, imperious synth pads, and exposition; but unlike Blade Runner, it picks up speed from there, like it’s getting used to life in flames. Devi McCallion and Ada Rook’s frankly bleak handbook for life as a scared animal amidst collapse embraces noise, chaos, and glitch the way you have to with your habitat. Here the duo behind 2019’s Love and Affection for Stupid Little Bitches dice brittle, depressive vocals into skittering beats unto themselves and layer them atop ultra-compressed guitars, making a home of this flattened, bloodsoaked, always-on-fire landscape, “like a pearl / Formed from the pressure.” — Theon Weber

Chubby and the Gang, Speed Kills (Static Shock)
“Gang” as in gang vocals, every word quadrupled or quintupled in a time when togetherness is fleeting. And it’s a throwback for sure; you don’t hear the words “juvenile delinquency” much in #okboomer times. They’re all in other bands, and there’s no reason to believe they’ll make this a priority. But the perfectly fine Sham 69 didn’t have this many tunes, this much locomotive propulsion for 25 warmly pummeling minutes, or the empathy to muster up something like the closing tribute to the victims of the Grenfell Tower fire after the particularly uplifting guitar solo in “Blue Ain’t My Colour.” It’s remarkable how many punk bands sound like this but not really. Just like Nirvana. — D.W.

Denzel Curry x Kenny Beats, Unlocked (Loma Vista)
A slap-shot patchwork of samples, beats, and gunfire verses in just 17 minutes, Unlocked is one of the meanest rap releases you’ll hear this year. Denzel Curry’s smart, snarling punchlines hit like spit in the face, even when they’re as goofy as “fire flows like I’m red and white Mario.” And they’re backed by dark, sharp little head-knockers courtesy of star Rico Nasty collaborator and The Cave host Kenny Beats. It’s brutally addictive for those who can keep up, a tight mix of ’90s NYC grit and unbridled futurism from two of the most tireless monsters in the game. And the references to Frederick Douglass and Rosa Parks hint that he’s thinking bigger already. — K.B.

Dogleg, Melee (Triple Crown)
From the first riff of “Kawasaki Backflip” through the symphonic coda of the appropriately titled “Ender,” the debut album from this Detroit emo unit could have had whole basements of kids singing or moshing along at almost any point in the last two decades. Sprinkled with references from their not-too-distant childhood (even the album’s title stems from their love of Super Smash Bros.) and doused heavily in the anxiety and emotional trauma that’s inspired gut-wrenching classics from their forebears, Melee is one of the most complete post-hardcore experiences of the past decade. And it’s only Dogleg’s first try. — Josh Chesler

Fake Names, Fake Names (Epitaph)
When did supergroups get so disciplined? Modeled after Ex Hex’s Rips, wherein Mary Timony retconned her whole career to see how “Fox on the Run,” “Hot Child in the City” and “Baby Baby” (The Vibrators, remember?) would sound Frankenstein’d together, Fake Names is a bunch of beloved punks’ 27-minute glam-rock session. Dennis Lyxzén was never this tight or tuneful in Refused, but in Minor Threat and Bad Religion, respectively, Brian Baker sure was. Embrace’s Michael Hampton and Girls Against Boys’ Johnny Temple are just happy to go along for the ride, which includes several dynamite guitar ideas (“This Is Nothing,” “All for Sale”), a synth on “Heavy Feather,” and rarely sounds like the key members of moderately legendary acts. But that’s why Fake Names is the side-project moniker to end them all: The desire to play regular guys rocking out without preconceptions. And like Ex Hex, it’s accidentally the best thing these fellas have ever done. — D.W.

Grimes, Miss Anthropocene (4AD)
If climate change was a Goddess it would be Miss Anthropocene — weird, terrifying, and radiant, at least according to Claire Boucher. Mixing fantasy and villainy, Grimes rails against her nearly mainstream pop stardom and tabloid-tweet celebrity with dark synth-work, nü-metal overtones, and an overall embrace of impending doom. It’s more somber than 2015’s audaciously sugary Art Angels, but Miss Anthropocene still encapsulates the camp flourishes of her last record as her looped, layered, celestial vocals overtake the songs. However, the standout emerges when she ditches the frills and sings as one direct voice. With its Oasis-inspired strums, “Delete Forever” is a stunning tribute to Lil Peep and others lost to the opioid crisis. It’s nothing fancy, just a reminder that her talent and heart still remain when you strip away the futuristic tech-worlds her music, visuals, and weapons-grade trolling have built. — I.K.

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