Ben Folds takes on The Langley Schools Music Project.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Ben Folds’ Rockin’ the Suburbs (#48) and The Langley Schools Music Project’s Innoncence and Despair.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Ben Folds- Rockin’ the Suburbs
Talk about bad timing.
Rockin’ the Suburbs should’ve been Ben Folds’ ticket to stardom. There’s no more “five” riding his coattails (okay, there’s three of ‘em still, but still…), he’s got a couple of great records behind him and a new one in the can ready to go. It’s chock full of the usual witticisms that brought us all to the party in the first place. There’s plenty of piano and a good chunk of fuzzy bass. What’s not to love?
If only they hadn’t picked September 11th for the release day. And really, who releases a record on a Tuesday?! Maybe that’s a thing? I dunno. Either way, I spent the day at the airport, smoking, “guarding planes” (lol), and listening to ABC radio; Ben probably spent it wondering what might’ve been.
One of the things I’ve always dug about Folds’ writing is how he writes about the human condition but wraps it in a brand of wit that makes you feel good about it all. “Army” could’ve been a dirge about not getting along with his dad. Instead, a whole generation of us has “Grew a mustache and a mullet/got a job at Chick-fil-A” stuck in our head like a sonic sleeper agent, just waiting to be our next earworm. This, of course, makes piano-led music more palatable. I also suspect he wrote many of these not as catharsis but for his own amusement.
The first song on Rockin’ the Suburbs is “Annie Waits,” and doesn’t pivot too far. As Exhibit A for the people, I offer you: “Annie waits… But not for me.” Iseewhatyoudidthere. The title track is also one of the catchiest on the record, and my fave of the lot. Catchy is good, as there’s a good deal of heavier material here. And tbh, after 9/11, that’s the last thing anyone needed.
Folds’ records have always been a mixed bag for me, with some must-listens and some must-skips. I’ve only ever owned/borrowed these on CD; that came in handy. But the highs! So, so high. I suspect at some point, I’ll be wandering the halls of the old folks home and will just start singing “Army,” or I’ll be in the dining hall and the melody to “Don’t Change your Plans” will pop into my head. It’s a high bar.
And it’s a bar that ‘Suburbs never quite clears. It’s good, not great. Some of the tracks are wonderful, but I can guarantee there’s no way I’ll be signing “Annie Waits” at some random point in old age.
What might’ve been.
The Langley Schools Music Project- Innocence and Despair
Speaking of getting old, I hate that time keeps screaming by, but there are a few silver linings. One of ‘em? No more elementary school “programs.” Look, I love my kids, but there is no need for me to ever sit through another music program. No reason to pretend not to be driven mad by off-key crooning or that one kid whose parents made him play the French horn. Remember that weird resurgence Journey enjoyed about 10-12 years ago? Yeah. Just in time for my oldest’s (then ) third-grade class to do a whole-ass thing featuring their songs. You’d think this would’ve been fun, if only ironically. You would be wrong.
But this! This is great. Maybe it’s because I didn’t feel like attendance was compulsory. I mean; literally no one was gonna give a f**k if i didn’t play this. And tbh, I thought about it. But this whole record made me feel some kind of way. Recorded in 1976-1977, it’s essentially a school-assembly-as-covers record using hits of the era. Bowie? Sure, why not? Rhiannon? Okay. Sweet Caroline? Gotta take the bad with the good, I ‘spose.
On paper, there is no reason why I would normally like this, but some sort of Grinch-type stuff happened, and my heart grew three times its normal size. Maybe it’s the shit state of play in 2026, but man, this was exactly what I needed today. They even cover Herman’s Hermits! Something tells me I’m into something good? You better believe it.
Bottom Line: Bracket pick: Ben Folds all day. There are quite a few first-round matchups where I defaulted to picking the higher seed. This is one of ‘em. My vote? Going to the kids.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
It’s an I-5 battle as Sacramento’s Cake takes on LA’s Margo Guryan.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Cake’s Comfort Eagle and Margo Guryan’s 25 Demos.
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Cake- Comfort Eagle
Having to force-rank Cake albums would be rough sledding. These parlor games are always fun, but is it possible to just do a six-way tie? If you like a little bit of theremin with your rock, you’re in luck. Maybe a bit of quasi-rapping laced with droll wit? Want some horns and a little git box with choruses purpose-built for singing along while stuck in traffic? I’ve got good news!
Comfort Eagle is the band’s 4th record, and the short version is it’s more of the same. And hey, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? The NorCal band knows what it’s got and isn’t interested in lowball offers.
What they have are tracks oozing with deceptively catchy riffs and songs that transport you to a sun-baked world of short skirts/long jackets where everyone calls you “dude.” Speaking of which, most people will recognize “Short Skirt/Long Jacket,” which had a decent run on the charts and still gets played to this day.
What people might not know is that the band held a (then novel) online vote to pick which track would go second. The title track won, but after 9/11, the band decided to switch to “Love You Madly” stating “Due to unforeseen changes in national media, CAKE must now change its upcoming single from ‘Comfort Eagle’ to ‘Love You Madly.’ We apologize to those of you who voted for the latter, but due to its airplane, corporate, and Middle Eastern references, ‘Comfort Eagle’ has been deemed inappropriate for today’s emotional climate.”
Fair enough. Fall of ’01 was a weird space to be in. Love You Madly is catchy, but not as much as Comfort Eagle. But we’re talking a game of inches here; everything on this record is catchy. If you only know “Short Skirt/Long Jacket,” consider this a sign to check out the rest of the record—it’s so much more than the one song.
On the title track, Cake says they are billing [you] a religion. Consider me converted.
Margo Guryan- 25 Demos
We recently finished rewatching Mad Men here at the house, and 25 Demos is the perfect sort of record for a music supervisor to tap for some of the scenes. It’s purpose-built for playing through a transistor radio, and you can imagine it playing in the background as Betty smokes in the kitchen stewing about, well, whatever was bothering her that day—or over b-roll footage of the city (ever notice how few scenes took place in the street? No? Just me? Okay, then.). It’s just unknown enough to send people scurrying to sites like Tunefind and just known enough to catch the attention of the hipper among us too. In this scenario, I would be firmly in the former camp.
An aversion to performing prompted Guryan to move from singing songs to writing them. Reading a bit online, apparently, she first did this to get out of a piano recital. Later, like many, she had her mind rearranged hearing “God Only Knows” and set out to hear as much pop as she could get her hands on. Those artists influenced her work, and eventually, she had enough to put together a record. Her manager (and later husband) landed her a record deal, but she was unwilling to tour behind it (see above), and so it went almost nowhere—except cutout bins and the cabinets of the few lucky enough to have found it before it faded out.
The record is full of the sort of sunshine and avant-garde pop you might expect. If you’re a fan of Burt Bacharach or (insert favorite Yé-Yé artists here), you’ll find plenty to enjoy. I don’t know if we needed 25 songs of this; maybe 14–16 would’ve been ideal, but it is being sold as a retrospective, so there’s that.
As the title implies, these are demos, and a couple are pretty spartan, but most are more fleshed out than I would’ve expected. Maybe that’s down to what she was looking for or just how things were done back in the day. Either way, the result is a treasure trove of her work. I don’t know if calling this sort of thing a retrospective fits when it comes to an unknown artist, but whatever. Guryan might’ve had no taste for the stage, but her ear for rhythm is undeniable. Her vocals drift between wispy and ethereal—not the strongest voice ever to come through your speakers, but it fits perfectly both with the style of the time and the music behind her.
One of the fun things about these brackets is finding these forgotten gems. How’d this get into the final 128? Was it something someone found in their parents’ stereo cabinet? Did they hear her on the radio? Maybe they took a flyer on a record at a garage sale or while crate-digging. Beats me, but I’m glad they liked it enough to share it with all of us. This was a treat.
Bottom Line: I played both of these while at work, and both were perfect for the time of day I heard them. Cake was a nice little jolt- something always appreciated at 4 AM, while Margo Guryan’s brand of sunshine pop was well suited for mid-morning.
Honestly, both of these are great and did a good job of giving me a bit of reactive FOMO. I wish I’d listened to more Cake! So it goes. These are obviously two wildly different records, but I have to say that Comfort Eagle felt a couple of songs too short, while 25 Songs went on a touch too long. You always want to leave ‘em wanting more. For that reason, Cake’s getting my vote and bracket pick.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Everyone’s favorite murder ballad merchant takes on some British hip hop
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds No More Shall We Part (#49) as it faces off against Roots Manuva’s Run Come Save Me (#80)
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds- No More Shall We Part
I need you to understand that I’ve always regarded Nick Cave as a modern-day vampire. I don’t mean the cartoony Count Chocula caricature; I mean something like Lestat’s musically inclined cooler cousin. The type of guy that is never not wearing top-notch finery and lives in a castle with innumerable candles. None of this is close to accurate, of course. But still, if I ever saw him in, say, shorts and a T-shirt, it would probably short-circuit my mind. We all saw what happened when Danzig was snapped buying kitty litter. I don’t need that fourth wall being shattered again! Wasn’t a duet with Kylie Minogue enough? It’s also worth noting that I happen to love his newsletter, most of which is his pontificating on the world around us wrapped around the kernel of answering fan mail. He’s seen some shit (a given when you’re 377 years old) and has a pretty unique take on the world. All jokes aside, he’s suffered incredible loss, which has certainly colored his world and shaped his view of it. He’s pretty open about his faith, which, if nothing else, seems to be rare in his corner of the music universe.
I say all of this so you, A) have an idea how my brain works, and B) have an idea of the lens through which I hear everything Cave (and/or the Bad Seeds) have done.
So! About this record: No More Shall We Part is full of the devotion, guilt, prayer, and private bargaining one might expect. It comes across as a record written with a quill pen by candlelight while rain lashed the windows. It comes across as a record penned by someone coming to grips with what his innermost thoughts are trying to tell him. Say what you will about our murder ballad merchant; he’s consistent.
One of the things I find most off-putting about evangelicals is their tendency to describe everything in absolute terms. Conversely, one of Cave’s most endearing traits is his refusal to do so. At the risk of sounding like the laziest bot you’ve ever heard of, I kept coming back to that push-pull while listening to the record. This was also the first record he made after going clean, and once you know that, you can’t unhear it (not derogatory). I suppose some of you might be wondering which, if any, tracks to listen to, and to that I say Hallelujah, God Is in the House, and Fifteen Feet of Pure White Snow are all good picks.
No More Shall We Part is ornate, theatrical without being over the top, and weathered by the weight of experience but not self-pitying. In other words, a Nick Cave record. It’s also not my bag at all. In other words, a Nick Cave record. More power to everyone that loves his work, but I’ll stick to the newsletter and call it good. And would it kill him to do a nice little pop number with Kylie Minogue next time?
Roots Manuva- Run Come Save Me
Oh hey! A British rapper rapping about British things. Fun! Didn’t we already do this with Tricky and (maybe) Prodigy? Having an intro track called No Strings that’s nothing but strings didn’t help. Irony is fine in limited doses. A whole-ass song? That’s an overdose. No matter. I was sure I wasn’t gonna like this record but decided to push through anyway (the things I do in the name of “research”!). What I really wanted was something with what we used to call a “jeep beat”—in other words, something that sounded hella good as the bass proceeded to take apart your trunk, rivet by rivet. This vein of underground rap is fine, but again, not something I’m super into. I’ve got a couple of faves (i.e., Jurassic 5), and that’s enough for me. It took a few tracks, but when Join the Dots hit full speed, I found myself thinking it sounded like… Jurassic 5. Not terrible! Ital Visions was more of the same, and I’ll take all of that you’ve got.
It’s not fair to compare British and American hip-hop. There’s more ragga and dub influence oozing into the mix. Different beats, too (I wonder if there’s a British Jeep Beat equivalent?). If there is, this ain’t it. Their sounds are solid, the production is good, there are the aforementioned couple of standout tracks, and I’m willing to bet that with a few more listens, some appreciation would come. But this was never going to be something you heard comin’ from around the way.
Bottom Line: If you forced me to pick only one of these to listen to forever, my first response would be to ask why you’re so mad at me. My second (after much consternation) would be to go with Nick Cave; if I were stuck in prison or a dungeon, I would probably want something with some clarity, and No More Shall We Part would be the better of the two at delivering it. Bracket-wise, the dilemma’s easier- I’m sure the hipster contingent will show up/show out for Roots manuva, but I’m banking on Cave’s name recognition to carry the day.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Slowcore legends Low take on post-hardcore band Thursday
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Low’s Things We Lost in the Fire (#16) and Thursday’s “Full Collapse” (#113)
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challenge and noted that I’d be writing some of these up.
The plan is to do quick hits on each first-round matchup and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Low- Things We Lost in the Fire
Duluth, Minnesota, is incredibly underrated. Yes, the winter weather is, um, “problematic,” but if you can tolerate a little meteorological volatility, it’s well worth your time.
Part of the appeal lies in its being right on Lake Superior. It’s a majestic, magical body of water that does well to remind one of their place in the universe. The city is also close to the Iron Range, where a lot of taconite pellets begin their journey to become products and infrastructure in our lives. They’re carried on freighters (”lakers”) that traverse the Great Lakes for most of the year, hauling all the underrated stuff we never notice until it’s not there. It’s what the Edmund Fitzgerald was carrying when the lake took her, spawning a song by Gordon Lightfoot and starting the tradition of that track appearing in every jukebox within 200 miles. It’s probably a licensing requirement. I dunno. Either way, the lake is now synonymous with the boat, and vice versa.
That’s a lot of words to say that Duluth is more important to people than they might realize. It’s also a great place to see a lot of ships coming and going.
When talking about transportation, I always have to remind myself that not everyone is as into it (or cares) like I do. I’m the kind of person who works with airplanes all day and then takes a vacation somewhere with front-row seats to shipping lanes. I like watching these leviathans come and go—from filling your entire field of vision to becoming a mirage on the horizon, then disappearing completely. They’re stately, steady, and a little anachronistic. Frankly, I’m often amazed at how much mileage (literally and figuratively) we’ve gotten out of this fleet of lakers, many of which were in service alongside the Edmund Fitzgerald, and have been going strong for over fifty years.
Duluth also gave us Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker, aka slowcore elder statesmen Low, and bear with me as I make one of the clunkiest analogies in the history of this newsletter. A lot of people don’t realize how important Low has been in their musical diet. If you like slowcore at all, Low’s probably a big reason for that. If you enjoy beautiful vocal pairings—well, I have some good news. If you like simple, stripped-down music with only rudimentary mechanics, you can find that at both the harbor and on records like Things We Lost in the Fire.
Like the lake following the seasons, across their career, Low’s sound has moved from icy to something warmer and open. Things We Lost in the Fire does a good job of capturing that shift. There’s a glow that feels (to my ear, anyway) like the light of morning. guitars hum and whir like the thrum of diesel engines, drums pulse at an unhurried pace, and the vocal harmonies fit nicely against the space around them, without ever threatening to take them over. Songs such as “Sunflower,” “Dinosaur Act,” and “July” feel more open(?) than songs from earlier records. Elsewhere, touches of strings and acoustic elements give the record a little movement without losing its placidity. Is placidity a word? It is now.
I should mention that this record sounds like most every other Low record, but what else was it going to sound like? Long winters can make people do strange things, but it’s not like they were going to spin off and do their version of Metal Machine Music. This, of course, is reductive and akin to saying every ship looks the same. Neither is true. There are variations here, and in a couple of spots, things plod along right on schedule until, as noted, there’s a burst of vocals, strings, or some other surprise element(s).
The knock on them is this consistency, this sameness, but like a boat still moving along after almost six decades, why would they have tried to fix what wasn’t broken?
Thursday- Full Collapse
Somewhere, there is someone who loves this record. Maybe they had a lot of angst in 2001, and this spoke to them. Maybe they just had a penchant for songs that burst into primal screaming right on cue. Someone loved this record enough to nominate it for this tournament. Enough someone’s liked it for it to make the cut. And it’s not even seeded last. That someone is not me. First track? Pretty rad! After that, the novelty wears off. Fast. Hard pass.
Bottom Line: Thanks for bearing with me as I compared a slowcore record to an upper midwest port city and a fleet of Lakers. That might’ve been was clunky, but my vote and bracket pick are as clear as day: Things We Lost in the Fire takes it without a second thought.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Here we go! It’s a battle for the Midwest as Wilco takes on Slipknot.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (#1) and Slipknot’s Iowa (#128)
Note: As many of you saw, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 2001 challengeand noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.
Each day, I’ll do some quick hits of each first-round match-up and post them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be a few typos. We’ll also have a few guest posts along the way, so make sure to stay tuned for those!
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks always appreciated.
KA—
Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is one of those records that is usually described in hushed tones and with reverence. For a certain demographic (i.e., suburban dads), it’s canon. It’s given as a meaningful gift and passed down from dad to son. It gets boxed up for anniversaries and treated as the moment Wilco turned from alt‑country to something in the pantheon of dad rock. For many listeners, it’s a landmark and must-have.
For me, it’s never landed.
On paper, I should be all over this. I like the genre. I’m a fan of good writing and stories that aren’t quite in focus. I wear cargo shorts and Sambas. I prefer Microbrews over Miller. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot checks those boxes…and yet…
The opener, “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,” is a declarative statement, despite a wonky groove, and vocals that range between weary and half‑asleep, which frankly is how it leaves me feeling. I can admire how the whole thing is put together. That doesn’t change the fact that my favorite part of the whole deal is the cover art.
I want to like this record, I really do. I’m supposed to, right?! Lord knows I’ve tried. “Kamera?” Check. “I’m the Man Who Loves You?” check. Absolute apathy towards the sound? Check.
Maybe it all feels undercooked? I know that was a choice, and there are a lot of records that aim for intentionally good, not great, as an aesthetic. Maybe the hype surrounding it has led to horribly mismatched expectations. I dunno. All I can tell you is that I walk away from the sound machine feeling underwhelmed. This is a record that should be a gut punch.
None of this makes Yankee Hotel Foxtrot a failure, of course. It’s thoughtful, was clearly labored over, and clearly means a lot to a lot of people. I’m just not one of them. This is the #1 seed in the bracket and will likely make a deep run in the tourney. Heck, even I’ve pipped it to take it all (I’m pragmatic if nothing else). My bigger concern is that it’s gonna hoover up a ton of discourse oxygen. Hopefully, I’m wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Slipknow’s Iowa, meanwhile, felt like everything YHF wasn’t; it was loud, dangerous, and maybe most importantly unique. The production here is a choice as well, and that choice is “don’t sand the edges off.”
The masks, jumpsuits, and numbers for names read as a gimmick (and still do, tbh), but the band said they wanted people to focus on the music, and I get it.
Tracks like “People = Shit,” “Disasterpiece,” and “The Heretic Anthem” aren’t trying to steal your heart so much as rip it out of your chest and show it to you. Joey Jordinson’s drums sound fully formed, for lack of a better term. Corey Taylor sounds like a man possessed. It’s uncomfortable. It’s glorious.
I also think that part of the appeal is where the band came from. And I mean that literally. As in the flyer states. Specifically, well, Iowa. Pop culture and tastemakers love to ignore the Central time zone, and when you put out a record that sounds like a blast furnace, that’s hard to do.
Bottom Line: Somewhere there’s a universe where Iowa is on the right side of a #1 vs #128 match-up. Unfortunately, we don’t live there. I love rooting for the underdog, and will vote for Iowa out of spite, if nothing else. But I can’t see a way out for Clown & Co. My bracket pick begrudgingly goes to YHF.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
The 3rd Annual On Repeat & Friends Best Records of 2025
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at our Top Albums of 2025
We’re back!
By almost any metric, 2025 wasn’t great. The universe didn’t send us its best. But if we’re talking about records—and we are—this was a banner year. For every stain on the landscape (Daniel Ek, the Velvet Sundown), there were countless counterpoints: music that doubled down on what we love, and artists unafraid to cover new ground.
I sometimes get asked if I ever worry that I’ll run out of records to write about. My answer is always a polite version of, “Are you kidding me?!” That might happen at some point, but the biggest hurdle in 2025 was finding enough time to cover all the records I wanted to. I thought for sure I’d have figured out how to do that by now. Nope. Maybe next year.
The list below represents what I consider the best the year had to offer. These were the records that consistently fed my ears and lit up my brain. For fans of semantics, we can swap in/out terms like “best,” “favorite,” etc.—dealer’s choice.
The ultimate barometer is this: if we were at a diner after a show and you channeled your inner Rob Gordon and asked me what records I’d recommend, these would be the ones I pitched.
For the past couple of years, Sam ColtSteve Goldberg and I have put together our annual favorites. There’s not a lot of overlap in taste, and that’s what keeps this so fun. I’m not blowing smoke when I say that I start looking forward to this group project in early fall.
When you’re done here, please head over to their pages and check out their takes!
Meet the co-conspirators
Sam Colt—Recovering copywriter and author of This Is A Newsletter!—a consistently hilarious, biting chronicle of modern life and its indignities.
Sam’s List:
Rosalia- Lux
Clipse- Let God Sort ‘em Out
Deftones- Private Music
Geese- Getting Killed
billy woods- GOLLIWOG
Nourished by Time- The Passionate Ones
Wednesday- Bleeds
Panda Bear-Sinister Grift
FKA twigs- EUSEXUA
Stereolab- Instant Holograms on Metal Film
Read his full breakdown- including honorable mentions-here.
Steve Goldberg—Writes Earworms and Songloops, weaving personal essays with the songs that lodge themselves in your brain.
Steve’s Picks:
(alphabetical order)
Yazz Ahmed – A Paradise in the Hold
Amadou & Mariam – L’amour à la folie
The Antlers – Blight
The Besnard Lakes – The Besnard Lakes Are the Ghost Nation
Anna Von Hausswolff – Iconoclasts
Henge – Journey to Voltus B
Walt McClements – On a Painted Ocean
Midlake – A Bridge Too Far
Vines – I’ll Be Here
Youth Lagoon – Rarely Do I Dream
Check out Steve’s thoughts on his picks—and those that just missed the cut— here.
As in Part 2, some of these we’ve talked about before, and I’ve included excerpts from previous reviews. I like yapping about records, but the goal is—and remains—finding you a new favorite or two.
Also: All are Gizmo-approved:
Let’s get to it!
Immersion-WTF
My love for Wire is no secret, and the same holds true for frontman Colin Newman’s solo work. This year, that circle expanded to include Immersion, his project with partner Malka Spigel (formerly of Minimal Compact). They actually gifted us two releases this year (plus a collaboration with / reworking of a single by Dummy). Nanocluster Vol. 3, with SUSS, was gorgeous. WTF?? takes the best parts from all of those disparate pieces and blends them into something incredible.
From my original review:
The record kicks off with “Defiance,” an instrumental that gets things off to a strong start with uptempo beats but refuses to plant its flag in either camp: not synth, not pop, not really anything but itself. Immersion—and Wire before them—thrive in these in-between zones, especially when they let the music do the talking. I tried to categorize their last record, Nanocluster Vol. 4, and failed spectacularly. I know better this time around.
“It’s a Long Way to Brooklyn” is a highlight, a track that doesn’t need words. But the whole thing opens up when they do. Spigel’s voice on “Timeline” is cool and almost detached, and Newman sidles in with a wry spoken-word counterpoint. Elsewhere, like on “Use It Don’t Lose It,” his trademark deadpan delivery turns a good track into a great one.
If this all sounds heavy, it is—and it isn’t. At least no more so than something like Talking Heads’ Life During Wartime was back in the day. David Byrne was singing about NYC’s Alphabet City, and Immersion is speaking on a much larger scale. Nevertheless.
WTF?? is an album about the constant, low-grade anxiety of modern life, and an era where current events have you saying “what the fuck?” several times before lunch.
Bob Mould- Here We Go Crazy
At my day job, one of my corollary duties is administering annual hearing exams and helping people find hearing protection that works for them. This is thanks to Bob Mould.
Husker Du’s New Day Rising hit me like a kick to the head and was never played at less than full volume. I liked it that way and loved his power trio, Sugar. To this day, it’s still the loudest show I’ve ever been to. I used to find that post-show ringing in my ears a weird badge of honor. When it was still there after day two, I started to worry. My hearing rebounded (sort of), which marked the point when I no longer cared how uncool I looked wearing earplugs at shows. But Mould hasn’t quieted down. He’s at his best when he’s at full throttle, and on his 15th solo record, he delivers.
The opener, “Here We Go Crazy,” reminds listeners of the best parts of Sugar. “Fur Mink Augurs” and “Sharp Little Pieces” are equally intense. The songs come at you relentlessly: blast furnace chords, merciless drumming, and sometimes hard-to-understand vocals (especially for those with hearing difficulties). When you listen closely, they often touch on challenging subjects—it would be easy for a sound like this to wear down even the strongest among us. Yet Mould consistently shows us a bit of light (heh).
Here We Go Crazy isn’t exhausting; it’s invigorating. It’s a breath of fresh air at a time when we need it more than ever. Play it loud; just remember to limit your exposure and keep in mind that the most effective hearing protection is the kind you’ll actually wear.
Hayley Williams– Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party
I know you’ve already seen a bazillion reviews of this record, so let me save us all some time by just saying: “same!” But before you go play it, I want to add that I love how this record was released. Last year, Cindy Lee’s Diamond Jubilee drew raves for not being streamable and for being available only on YouTube and a specific website. Williams followed suit (sort of) by releasing the tracks via her website—no tracklist, no problem.
This is her first outing as an independent artist, and if that’s not doing things on your own terms (while raising a middle finger to those who got rich off your talent for decades), well, I don’t know what is. Williams—and, to an extent, Paramore—have always shapeshifted stylistically, but here that impulse is taken to another level, with wonderful results. Still, in my opinion, she truly shines when she leans all the way into old-school pop, like “Good Ol’ Days.”
Do the kids still refer to songs as “bops”? Because this is a bop—and a perfect example of her incredible talent.
Ryan Davis & The Roadhouse Band- New Threats from the Soul
Over the last few months, there’s been a trend in “bigger” publications to tout Americana as the latest new thing, as if it just popped out of the ether—as if Waxahatchee (or whoever) suddenly sparked a whole-ass genre. That’s obviously not true. What’s actually happening is that people are slowly discovering artists and bands who have been there, putting in the miles for years.
I can’t claim any sort of moral high ground or expertise here. As noted in my initial review, “until not too long ago I was a dues-paying member of the ‘anything but country’ club”—a broad brush that also treated folk and Americana as collateral damage. As usual, I’m late to the party, but I’m happy to be here now.
That said, how do you not fall for a record that casually namechecks A Tribe Called Quest, Peg Bundy, and Betty Rubble before the first chorus even hits?
And then a line like this comes in and stops you cold:
“You can see the kingdom from the tailgate
If you stack a couple coolers, but you’re never gonna see it from the front of the line”
Maybe college football has cooked my brain, but damn, that’s my kind of wordsmithing. Again, we’re not even through the opening track here!
Speaking of which, these sound radio-friendly but are absolutely not built for the airwaves—the shortest track here clocks in at 5:55. That’s fine by me. Morgan Wallen and co. can have the chart space and radio spots. This is a record suited for back roads, sitting on the porch, or in your favorite bar on a cool summer evening.
With New Threats…, Davis and the Roadhouse Band tip their hat to Americana while bringing new energy. It’s not easy to sound brand-new and 100 years old at once, but they walk that tightrope well here (absolutely NOT derogatory). It’s music that understands the lay of the land, respects it, and is cool with adding its own take. It’s the sort of thing that will convert skeptical listeners like me sooner rather than later.
Nourished by Time- The Passionate Ones
When I was in high school, my girlfriend was very much into R&B, and I was very much… not. We landed at a kind of musical détente, where we’d swap who got to control the music based on a very blurry set of criteria that seemed to change with every trip. That said, there were a few “compromise” records that we both begrudgingly enjoyed.
The Passionate Ones reminds me of that same very narrow band of R&B from around 1988–92 that used to blast out of my tape deck. We spent a lot of that time dreaming, and on Marcus Brown’s latest, it feels like a love letter to the dreamers—the ones just trying to get by. It’s a bit of sonic reassurance that it’s okay to have your head in the clouds.
It might evoke memories of bands and days gone by, but it’s also really hard to pigeonhole. Sure, R&B fits, but so do experimental and dance. Brown takes us on a ride and isn’t afraid to go off on a tangent or two. And there are earworms, and…
…and in a world where slop like Velvet Sundown becomes a thing, it’s nice to know there are still some things Suno just ain’t going to be able to copy. In my totally objective, not-at-all-blurry rubric for what makes a great record, originality is part of the calculus. And in that category, The Passionate Ones is off the charts.
There are no compromises on this LP, but I’d like to think it would absolutely qualify as a compromise record.
The number one way my newsletter finds new readers is when people share it. So, feel free to spam share it with everyone.
Have you ever been to Wendover, Nevada? If not, it’s a border town that’s a little worse for wear. Not quite a Temu-brand Vegas, but it’s close. It’s transient by nature, and melancholy and hard luck seem to be the only permanent residents.
In my head, this is the sort of place where Dan Bejar—aka Destroyer—would have a standing gig as a lounge singer. The songs are great, but the louche persona he’s built feels like a perfect fit. On 2011’s synth-pop masterpiece Kaputt, he talked about doing coke and all sorts of other midlife debauchery.
New iterations came via subsequent records like Poison Season and have reached their peak (or bottom?) with Dan’s Boogie. It feels like the end of the road for a guy with nothing left to lose—the sort of entertainer who still thinks “the act” has some life left in it, even if that means playing to a midday crowd of four or five disinterested truckers. The whole thing has a morning-after vibe, literally and figuratively, as if Bejar is in on the joke and no longer worries whether you’ll “get” his free association and poetry.
…and it’s fantastic.
Ultimately, places like Wendover are a great place to study the human condition—the wins, the losses, the beautiful, and the ugly. Sometimes they’re just a great place to get off the road and into some cheap food. Dan’s Boogie encompasses all of that. I honestly don’t know where Bejar goes from here, but I’m in no rush to get past this record.
Kathleen Edwards- Billionaire
One of the highlights of my week are our Monday discussions. Sure, I share a ton of picks with everyone, but I get WAY more in return. Occasionally, a record takes on a life of its own in the chat, and comments about it stretch over the course of a few weeks. This, of course, is a very loud signal that maybe, you know, you should check the record out? That happened with Billionaire, and man, am I glad I paid attention!
I originally noted
It didn’t take me long to get why people are so excited about this record. In fact, it took about 30 seconds of the opener “Save Your Soul.” I found myself nodding enthusiastically and saying, “Okay, then!” The line “Line your pockets with gold… Who’s gonna save your soul/When your money’s no good.” feels like a question a LOT of people should be asking themselves in 2025. And just in case Jason Isbell doesn’t already have enough fans here in the community, the solo on this track rips.
That was followed by “Say Goodbye, Tell No One,” one of those rare tracks whose gorgeous sound is a thin veneer over caustic lyrics. It’s incredible. I can almost guarantee someone’s going to use this to get through a bad breakup. They could do worse.
I also mentioned that if there was a weak link here, “I Need a Ride” was it. People told me to give it some time; maybe it would grow on me? Dear reader, that’s exactly what happened. And if Isbell wasn’t enough, towards the end, Shelby Lynne and Allison Moorer stop by to add some vocals.
Gelli Haha- Switcheroo
Where do I start with a record described by a fan as “…like Kate Bush meets Suburban Lawns, and it is pretty good!“? Switcheroo is what happens when an artist starts out making folk music, moves to LA, connects with a producer, and makes the pivot of a lifetime. Along the way, Angel Abaya ditched her legal name, adopted the Gelli Haha persona, and proceeded to make one of the most unhinged records of 2025.
Imagine your favorite dream pop band grabbing a copy of The B-52s’ Whammy! on the way to the launch pad, taking off, and crash-landing in an electroclash warehouse party in the coolest part of the galaxy.
Switcheroo is ecstatic. It’s aspirational and absurd in equal measure. It’s awesome. In other words, it’s perfect for this moment. Speaking with Abaya earlier this year, I asked how this project came to be. Her answer?
“Gelli Haha is a project born through curiosity. I wanted to create something that was fun and moved people physically and emotionally. Fun music to dance to, something mystical, and enchanting and silly.”
Mission accomplished.
In that same piece, I said,
Maybe it’s just me, but here’s something liberating about how this album refuses to care what you think. It’s not just theatrical—it’s maximalist identity performance with zero fucks given apologies. Gelli Haha isn’t aiming for relatability; she’s too busy being a pop gremlin, and tbh, that rules. The whole project feels like a rejection of our (collective) obsession with being “real,” that’s often ripping through the usual music discourse channels. Instead, she turns her persona into a playground—and lets you run wild with it.
Switcheroo is weird, hilarious, and absolutely unhinged—and it might be the most fun I’ve had with a record all year. Listening makes joy feel like a radical act- a rare treat in the current era. Once you’re in the Gelliverse, you may never want to leave. I certainly don’t.
Fust-Big Ugly
From November:
Fust is the latest to corner the market on the sort of storytelling Drive-By Truckers and Wussy have mastered. On Big Ugly, the band’s third album, they’ve hit critical mass. Real stories about real people, just tryin’ to get through the day. It’s the world of hard-working folks, hours under a vicious sun, and well-lit places. In this case, 24-hour gas stations out by the highway. It’s always strange to me, a child of suburbia, and a man that’s spent 49(ish) of his 50 years living above the Mason-Dixon line, to be so fascinated with the stories from the South. I don’t know what it is, but it’s always been a goldmine for storytelling. Even the nomenclature follows this pattern: Big Ugly is an area in West Virginia. And like the state, it’s an odd name for a beautiful thing — or in this case, specifically, a record from a North Carolina–based band.
“Spangled” kicks things off with a story of a repossessed hospital and helping a friend. And if that’s not a track for today, I’m not sure what is. It’s also a banger with no shortage of guitars, piano, and pedal steel. It’s purpose-built for rippin’ a heater and thinkin’ about things as you whiz down your nearest moonlit back road.
“Mountain Language” is another swaggering track with fuzzy riffs and lines like:
You can’t even find work at the Country Boy Selling gas station drugs To take care of your sister Dallas She’s a little, little older than us She’s a little older than us
This is a masterclass in telling the stories of the people who live in places Yankees rarely go, and of values we can all relate to. The record ends the same way it begins — with a story of collapse when Aaron Dowdy tells us on the way out that he’s blacking out from living.
Big Ugly is a mix of ballads and rockers, but truly shines on the latter. Dowdy isn’t afraid to paint an unvarnished picture of real life, but does so in a way that never feels condescending. The characters here feel like his people, not caricatures built for peddling records. This is a world progress often leaves behind, but like an abandoned school bus slowly being consumed by kudzu, there is grace and beauty in the decay.
I keep trying to find new things to say about this record, but my quiver of superlatives only holds so many arrows, ya know?
Preoccupations- Ill at Ease
Ill at Ease is certainly not something you’ll be blasting on your boat as you and the crew knock back tall boys. It’s icy in spots and apocalyptic in others. One song mentions centrifuges. Does Van Halen sing about centrifuges? Dear reader, they do not.
Oh, and it will sometimes make you want to dance (probably on land).
When Women broke up in 2012, the Flegel brothers went their separate (musical) ways. Patrick morphed into Cindy Lee, whose Diamond Jubilee record was on just about every AOTY there is last year. Matt and bandmate Mike Wallace went on to form the core of Viet Cong. That name was thankfully changed for a whole host of obvious reasons, and Preoccupations came to be.
Ill at Easeis the band’s fifth record, and arguably their most accessible. It’s a post-punk record, but it’s as pop as anything Psychedelic Furs or The Sound ever put out. On a more contemporary note, I kept drawing a line to The Helio Sequence. For absolutely no reason at all, the record’s “Andromeda” reminds me of “Keep Your Eyes Ahead.” While I’m at it, Flegel’s almost raspy vocals will evoke comparison to The Fur’s Richard Butler’s.
None of this is a liability. In fact, it’s all in the plus column for me. There has been some chatter that this record is too pat, too polished compared to their previous releases. I am not in that camp. Sure, there are a points where I miss that earlier volatility, but I like my post-punk dance-y, and this delivers for days. “Andromeda” and “Focus” have been battling it out for my fave track of the year, and several others make a good case for being shortlisted as well.
Get in, we’re listening to the soundtrack to the apocalypse.
A few more incredible records I’d recommend in a second:
Stereolab — Instant Holograms on Metal Film: The data goblins at Spotify tell me my most-played song in 2025 was “Ping Pong,” off the band’s 1994 record Mars Audiac Quintet. Such is the staying power Stereolab enjoys that, three decades on, I’m still playing the records—and so are a whole lot of other people. Will this one have the same longevity? It’s Stereolab! I wouldn’t be against it.
Sextile — Yes, Please: One of my “old man yells at cloud” complaints is that techno—er, EDM—er, dance music has started to over-index on glitches and bleeps and bloops. There’s nothing wrong with that (see Stereolab), but sometimes I want big bass, a little sweat, and some weapons-grade hedonism. The lyrics flit between existential and immediate, but if I’m honest? I’m here for the beats. And they never stop coming. Incredible record that takes you right back to those nights that didn’t even get started until 10:30 p.m. Listen again? Yes, please.
Andy Bell — Pinball Wanderer: This year, we got records from Erasure’s Andy Bell and the former Ride frontman of the same name. A real “Oh, we got both kinds. We got Country and Western” moment. This one is from the latter Andy and is a fantastic ride into space. The record’s cover of the Passions’ 1981 track “I’m in Love With a German Film Star” is worth the price of admission alone.
Avery Friedman — New Thing: Writing this record up last spring, I quipped: “I am convinced someone, somewhere, decided that any promo email had to include either ‘pedal steel’ or ‘indie folk’ in the description. It feels like a bit of PR Mad Libs or refrigerator-magnet poetry gone wrong…those two phrases are as ubiquitous as UPCs on the records they’re trying to move.”…which said PR rep then posted on social media. Lol. Oops. It was all taken in stride, and why not? I loved the record, and Friedman made it easy. On the title track, Friedman tells us: “It’s a little bit of a new thing / It’s a little hard to predict / And I can’t quite describe it / But it’s like a magnet flipped.” Honestly, I can’t think of a better way to sum up this record than that. This album fades in and out—sometimes it feels like the light of midday; other times like a fever dream or fuzzy memories struggling to make it out of the back of one’s mind. I closed that first review by stating, “It’s not PR spin when I tell you that’ll be a contender for a spot on my AOTY list.” And, well, here we are.
Die Spitz — Something to Consume: My elevator pitch for this Austin-based quartet has always been simple: Die Spitz is the Gen Z equivalent of L7. To be clear, that’s meant as high praise. They’re fast, loud, and have something to say—and exactly zero Fs to give. Ava Schrobilgen, Chloe De St. Aubin, Eleanor Livingston, and Kate Halter also happen to be talented musicians. Their 2023 record was centered around “Hair of Dog,” one of my favorite tracks of the year, and the EP quickly found its way onto my Best of 2023 list. It set the stage for Something to Consume. Almost a rough draft, if you will. That’s not to say this record has the edges sanded off—it absolutely doesn’t—but it’s clear the group has worked to evolve from those early beginnings.
And that’s a wrap! Any of your favorites on this list? What should be on here? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Sound off in the comments, and let me know!
Good morning! Need an antidote for the algorithms? Looking for a place to share the music you love with like-minded people? You’re in the right spot.
As always, thank you to those who have recently upgraded their subscriptions over the last several days. Your direct support fuels this community and makes a positive impact. Shares and reposts also help!
When you’re ready, joining them is easy. Just click here:
For those of you who are new, we kick off every week by sharing what we’ve been playing, and the playlist below is some of what’s been in heavy rotation for me.
The season of lists is now upon us. Christmas lists… AOTY lists… book lists… to-do lists… and if you’re in one of the flyover states, snow-closure lists. As the resident playlist dealer, it’s no secret that I love a good list—especially when it’s in the form of a mixtape. Today’s playlist reflects a bit of all of those. Avery Friedman’s New Thing was not a record I was expecting to like, but here we are. “Photo Booth” is a fave on an LP packed with them. “Automatic Love” was another revelation and feels like it’d be as at home on a 1991 best-R&B list as it does today (not derogatory). Immersion has shown up a lot this year, and don’t be surprised if they do again before we’re done with 2025.
The algorithm goblins at Spotify tell me that Stereolab’s “Ping Pong” was my most played this year, and honestly I’m not mad about it. Nothing says “2025” like a song that makes you dance while singing about economic collapse. Don’t worry, be happy. Things will get better naturally. We should be so lucky.
From there, we move to 808 State—which was one of my favorites of 1991—a little Wishy, and a nice return for De La Soul (don’t call it a comeback). Die Spitz, The Dead Milkmen, and Swervedriver make for a nice three-piece. We cool off a bit with Helene Barbier and Water from Your Eyes (another revelation), before a quick blitz of old faves/sonic comfort food. I’ve previously raised some hackles by saying that R.E.M.’s Out of Time ranks as one of their best, but I stand by it. I also put “Me in Honey” at the top of their closers. What do you think?
I didn’t have a new one by Madison friends Gentle Brontosaurus on my radar, but they gifted us one just the same. “Luxury Bones” is another one where serious—and timely—lyrics are supported by a jangly sound. If that’s a new name for you, get them on your gift list now. You won’t be disappointed!
What caught your ear this week? Any new releases or shows you’re looking forward to? Do you make any end-of-year lists? If so, have you started putting them together?
Our monthly discussion is later today, and this time there’s a twist…
Hi everyone —
Our monthly Riff community meet-up is today, and this one’s always a favorite: we’ll be sharing our top songs of the year and holiday picks. It’s low-key, fun, and a great way to discover new music you may have missed.
Everyone is welcome, and you’re free to share as much or as little as you like. You can keep your camera and mic off if you prefer.
Who: The Riff Community (that’s you!) What: Sharing and discussing our favorite tracks of 2025 & holiday faves When: Sunday, December 7th, starting at 4 PM Eastern Where:Zoom ID: 84599662582 Passcode: 93$.%cTD Why: Because discovering music together is just more fun.
Feel free to share widely! The more the merrier. Here’s a Friend Link you can use.
AOTY season kicks off with an all killer/no filler roundup of some of the year’s most noteworthy releases.
Good Morning!
Today we’re kicking off a 3- part series spotlighting the best releases 2025 had to offer.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Welcome to AOTY season.
It’s no secret that I believe hearing the right album at the right time can change your life. I could point to plenty of examples — and odds are good you can too — but the point is simple: music sticks when it meets you where you are.
I know I sound like a broken record (heh), but 2025 was once again an incredible time to be a music fan. The big station in your town might’ve been filling the airwaves with empty calories, but on the other end of the dial (and online), it was a completely different story. New artists were showing up daily. Older artists were too. Geese put out a great record, Goose put out a bunch.
It’s worth noting that in 2025, we saw releases from Madonna, Mekons, and 7 Seconds, plus live sets from Hüsker Dü and the Dream Syndicate. That doesn’t even touch the loads of reissues we were gifted this year (Lush, Unrest, etc.). Madge has a new record slated for 2026, and odds are good it’ll be on more than a few lists next December. Bob Mould’s still making records too — great news for music fans and hearing-aid manufacturers alike.
Part of what made this year interesting for me personally was a side project: I spent a good chunk of the year (re)listening to records from 1989 as part of a bracket challenge, and De La Soul’s 3 Feet High and Rising made the final four. Their Cabin in the Sky came out less than four weeks ago — and IMO, it’s some of the best work they’ve ever put out. The only reason it’s showing up here today is that it’s so new (note on that below). The more things change…
Growing up, the “best of” lists were both easy to find and incredibly monolithic — self-appointed tastemakers dictated what we heard on the radio, and that was that. Light work, but homogenized. Consumption was a collective experience. If you want to figure out someone’s age, ask about AT40 or name-drop Rick Dees. The reaction will tell you everything. That’s obviously no longer the case, though looking at some early lists, you’d be excused for thinking otherwise. After working through a bunch, I saw the same titles cropping up again and again.
It’s not that I think those records are bad. I just know there are hundreds of others worth your attention. As I read each of these, I kept thinking, where are the rest?
And that’s where lists like this come in.
Subscribe to continue reading
Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.
Four writers. Zero consensus. Forty-plus albums that defined indie, post-punk, and everything in between—ranked, argued over, and ready for your queue.
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a quick look at the best records of 2020-2024.
Narrowing down a favorite anything can be tough. It’s much easier to overdeliver and give someone a list of 5 or even 10 top picks. And even that can be fraught. Are these objectively the best, or are they your favorites? Maybe a blend of both? And are you sharing something truly worthwhile — a nudge in the right direction — or have you just given the other person homework?
There’s also a line of thinking that you shouldn’t do these sorts of lists at all — much better to, say, group by genre or list by release date. And to that I say… fair point. But I should be clear here: I love lists — especially when it comes to music. Every music writer is really just three Rob Gordons in a trench coat, and I think (hope?) people like reading them.
If you’re looking for breakdowns on drop tuning, chord changes, or whatever, I’m not your guy, but that’s not usually why people check top 100 or best-of lists anyway. A few are there for the rage bait & hate reads; the rest are there for the recommendations without having to sift through 4000 releases a year.
In other words, they’re trying to avoid a homework assignment.
The first half of the 2020s gave us no shortage of unforgettable albums, from indie and post-punk to genre-crossing experiments. If you’re searching for the best records of the decade so far, consider this your cheat sheet.
For the past couple of years, Sam ColtSteve GoldbergJami Smith and I have put together our annual favorites. There’s not a lot of overlap in taste—or any other demographic—and that’s what keeps this so fun.
We’ll be doing it again this year, so please keep an eye out! In the interim, we wanted to tee things up by taking a quick look at our faves of the decade so far. A fool’s errand? Maybe, but why not?
Consider it the music writing equivalent of a recap or clip show, only this is the lead-in to 2025’s best-of, and not a “very special” episode of your favorite TV series.
Meet the Contributors
Jami Smith—Author of Songs That Saved Your Life, exploring overlooked queer perspectives in music. Her work has appeared in The Advocate and Out Traveler.
Jami’s List:
St. Vincent – Pay Your way in Pain (2021)
Dua Lipa – FutureNostalgia (2020)
Run the Jewels – RTJ4 (2020)
Dry Cleaning – New Long Leg (2021)
Doechii – Alligator Bites Never Heal (2024)
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Cool It Down (2022)
Janelle Monae – Age of Pleasure (2023)
Beyonce – Renaissance (2022)
Brittany Howard – What Now (2024)
Cimafunk’s El Alimento (2021)
Sam Colt—Recovering copywriter and author of This Is A Newsletter!—a consistently hilarious, biting chronicle of modern life and its indignities.
Sam’s List:
Alfredo — Freddie Gibbs & The Alchemist (2020)
Promises — Floating Points, Pharaoh Sanders & the London Symphony Orchestra (2021)
Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You — Big Thief (2022)
Blue Rev — Alvvays (2022)
Cave World — Viagra Boys (2022)
SCARING THE HOES — Danny Brown & JPEGMAFIA (2023)
3D Country — Geese (2023)
“NO TITLE AS OF 13 FEBRUARY 2024 28,340 DEAD” — Godspeed You! Black Emperor (2024)
No Name — Jack White (2024)
Imaginal Disk — Magdalena Bay (2024)
Steve Goldberg—Writes Earworms and Songloops, weaving personal essays with the songs that lodge themselves in your brain.
Fantastic Negrito — Have You Lost Your Mind Yet? (2020)
Silk Sonic — An Evening with Silk Sonic (2021)
Arooj Aftab — Vulture Prince (2021)
Sloan — Steady (2022)
Weyes Blood — And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow (2022)
Corey Hanson — Western Cum (2023)
King Gizzard — Petrodragonic Apocalypse (2023)
Cowboy Sadness — Selected Jambient Works Vol. 1 (2024)
Storefront Church — Ink and Oil (2024)
My List
Maggie Rogers — Don’t Forget Me (2024)
Wussy — Cincinnati, Ohio (2024)
Sweeping Promises — Good Living Is Coming For You (2023)
Chemical Brothers — For That Beautiful Feeling (2023)
New Pornographers — Continue as Guest (2023)
Spoon — Lucifer on the Sofa (2022)
Nada Surf — Moon Mirror (2024)
Destroyer — Have We Met (2020)
Alvvays — Blue Rev (2022)
Working Men’s Club — S/T (2020)
2020:
This year started on an auspicious note; I blew out my knee the first week of January, and also managed to fracture my foot in multiple places, because why not? At the time, I assumed that would be the defining event of 2020. Silly me. We went on vacation at the end of the month, my knee held together only by my stubborn desire to sit on a beach, and returned to a world almost unrecognizable. After that, we made the same descent into “online learning” and sourdough as everyone else.
Working Men’s Club’s self-titled debut was a bright spot in a bleak year, and landed with me because its sound harkened back to those late ’80s/early ’90s post-punk and dance records I was binging in my newfound free time. I found Destroyer retroactively, thanks primarily to readers here who never missed a chance to mention Dan Bejar whenever I talked up The New Pornographers. Have We Met is elegant, quirky, and well-built all at once. As good a trifecta as any when looking for a “best of” record. This is still one I play relatively often.
2021:
You may notice that there are no 2021 records on the above list. Given the lag between producing a record and us getting our hands on it, 2020 ran on the fumes of records actually recorded in 2019. The dearth of 2021 releases more accurately reflects what lockdown life looked like—a year of live streams and doing shows via Zoom to survive, not booking studio time. At least that’s my impression, anyway.
That’s not to say there weren’t some killer records like Japanese Breakfast’s Jubilee. I’m still #teamPsychopomp, but this is excellent, and “Be Sweet” got the nod for my favorite song of 2021, so there’s that. Ditto, Lily Konigsberg’s Lily We Need To Talk Now, and since this is my newsletter, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention a live record by a certain Manchester band.But if you only have enough time/money/whatever for ONE record, and asked me which 2021 release to pick up, it’d be Dry Cleaning’s New Long Leg. The English post-punk band knocked it out of the park with their debut album. The musings/vocals mix well with the layered, dense soundscapes she’s talking over (but not overtaking). Dry Cleaning reminds me a bit of King Missile, except frontwoman Florence Shaw is talking about things like lanyards and helicopters, and not detachable… organs…
2022:
Look, anytime Spoon puts out a record, it is a cause for celebration, and Lucifer on the Sofa delivers. They’ve teased a new record for next year, and there’s a greater-than-zero chance I’ll be yapping about it in next year’s year-end piece.
The year also gave us debuts from The Linda Lindas and Wet Leg. The former channeled every pop-punk record in your cabinet, and with tracks like “Ur Mum,” the latter came across like the Gen Z equivalent of Lily Allen.
The Paranoid Style also gifted us For Executive Meeting, an LP where I gave up trying to find new superlatives and just went with: “This record is just one heckuva good time. Have fun.”
Afghan Whigs dropped one on 9/9 that was a solid 10, and 5-3-8 by Dendrons proved post-punk was alive and well. Picture Wire’s Colin Newman, Joy Division (in a good mood), and High Vis all stuck together making an album during the pandemic — and they’re listening to Pavement for inspiration. The result is first-rate post-punk from America’s Second City.
Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Cool It Down just missed the cut here. Had there not been a deadline to get this out, it’s possible I’d still be fussing with the lineup, and this would likely’ve been on it. As I noted at the time, it managed to thread the needle, making a record that sounds both “like a Yeah Yeah Yeahs record” and brand new all at once. The performance-art element isn’t as front & center as before, but the edge is as sharp as ever. No easy feat.
The record that pipped it? Alvvays — Blue Rev, where the chords are all in the right spots, and where the bridge on a track like “Belinda Says” is exactly as it needs to be. You can hear vestigial traces of the usual suspects here (Lush, MBV, etc.), but nothing is derivative. Blue Rev takes the best parts of power pop, dream pop, shoegaze, and whatever’s going on in lead singer Molly Rankin’s mind and just makes it work.
2023:
If 2021 was a reawakening, and 2022 was an (almost) return to normal, 2023 felt like when we hit our collective stride again. The last of the “pandemic project” modifiers peeled away, and the good music faucet was opened all the way up.
Drop Nineteens came out of nowhere to give us an incredible record, Seablite gave the shoegaze crowd a lil’ something, and the sad dads got a gift from Jason Isbell, the rare songwriter who can tell a whole story in one verse. The Chemical Brothers got in on the action with For That Beautiful Feeling. Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons still know a thing or two about putting together a record rather than piling a bunch of singles together and calling it good
Good Living Is Coming For You from Lawrence, Kansas-based Sweeping Promises was a revelation. The title sounds like the sort of slogan you’d see on Soviet agitprop posters or hear Peggy Olson come up with in a strategy session for Tupperware. Both are true. Speaking with the duo, frontwoman Lira Mondal described their sound as “Voracious, wild-eyed, grabbing-with-both-hands YOLO energy.” I also saw their sound described as “The B-52s if they never saw the sun.” Both of those are true, too.
Continue As Guest will take a listen or two before it clicks. But the band will win you over, as they invariably do. I often find myself writing, “Just go buy this record!” as a placeholder until I can better articulate my thoughts. Sometimes, I wish I could leave it at that. This is one of those cases.
2024:
Is there some recency bias here? Sure, maybe. But it’s undeniable that last year was chock-full of good records from end to end. Cloud Nothings tried to blow our speakers with Final Summer, and Cola dropped the best Parquet Courts record not made by Parquet Courts. What’s old was new again as J Mascis, Jesus and Mary Chain, and Pearl Jam all dropped new records. Kim Deal, too.
Last year saw Nada Surf gift us Moon Mirror, a rock-solid power pop from one of the most consistent, if not popular (heh), bands of our generation.
Cindy Lee’s Diamond Jubilee garnered almost as much ink for how it was distributed as for how good it was. Any record that gets someone to sit down and listen for two hours without doing anything else is worth considering for any best-of list. Cindy Lee is the stage name of Patrick Flegel. No spoilers, but don’t be surprised if another Flegel shows up on this year’s list.
My fave of last year was Wussy’s Cincinnati, Ohio. I don’t know what it is about this band, but man, they strike a chord in me that few other bands can hit. I’ve mentioned it elsewhere, but I think better than anyone else, they have helped me “get” what living in the Midwest is like. And the music? Well, it’s an LP with gem after gem just waiting to be discovered.
That’s a wrap! Did we nail it? Miss something obvious? Snub your favorite? Let me know—I’m always ready to be proven wrong (or at least add a few more albums to the listening pile).
Kevin Sent 
Leave a comment