The top albums of 2024 (so far)

Full albums: Spotify / Apple Music

Song picks: Spotify / Apple Music

With the year a little more than half done (or half undone, etc. etc.), I wanted to take a moment to look back at my favorite releases from the past six months. I did a mid-year review once before, and it was a really useful way of sorting out my likes and dislikes before my year-end retrospective. But then time got in the way, and I didn’t do it again. However, starting this newsletter back in December has given me a far more precise view, week in and week out, of which records have bubbled up to the top for me—so to everyone here, thank you for reading!

9T Antiope, Horror Vacui

I had to check and see if this was even the same duo whose Nocebo album I loved back in 2019, because this album is such a departure from Nima Aghiani and Sara Bigdeli Shamloo’s previous work. Though the same interior darkness rings loud and clear, rather than framed within a blistering ambience, here it’s filtered through more folk-like arrangements that seemed to decompose as they’re being performed. (Bandcamp)

Amen Dunes, Death Jokes

“I was tired of the music I’d become convinced I had to limit myself to.” From the liner notes to his new album, that’s how Damon McMahon explains what was behind the massive reset that occurred between Freedom, his uplifting 2018 record and the mid-apocalyptic (the fun kind) Death Jokes. Musically, it’s not like anything else, with upside-down melodies and beats that keep losing their way—possibly due to a malfunctioning drum machine—only for McMahon to guide the songs back to some semblance of reality. (Bandcamp)

Armbruster, Can I Sit Here

If Brian Eno and Robert Fripp had recorded No Pussyfooting but with violins, this is what it might’ve sounded like, and it is glorious. What keeps it working, though, is that the effects—and how much or little there are—allow for exploring a wide range of territory and keep the idea from getting overcooked. (Bandcamp)

Astrel K, The Foreign Department

Psychedelic pop that works its magic on a songwriting level, which really is the hardest kind. This album is full of unexpected twists and hooks and more time signatures than I thought there even were. (Bandcamp)

Black Decelerant, Reflections Vol. 2: Black Decelerant

Spaced-out and blissfully atmospheric, the way the subtlety comes to the forefront across this album is a thing to behold. Like warm waves washing over you, each one a little different from the last. (Bandcamp)

death’s dynamic shroud, galen tipton, You Like Music

For a while now, death’s dynamic shroud has been operating on a level I won’t pretend to understand, and can’t help but admire. The music is often abrasive, but never without the promise of a melody right around the corner to bring it all together. And this new one blends those aspects of their music to an even greater degree. (Bandcamp)

Guests, I wish I was special

The spoken lyrics here perform less as a narrative and more as disjointed poetry that create a whole new sense of melody and rhythm. Specifically on the brilliant “Arrangements, as in Making Them,” where Jessica Higgins’s words feel uncertain, scattered with ums—all in very good, thoughtful ways—to deliver an infectious vocal melody. This takes talk rock to a whole new, refreshing place. (Bandcamp)

Ariel Kalma, Jeremiah Chiu, Marta Sofia Honer, The Closest Thing to Silence

There’s a lot to handle here—deep electronics, sampling, field recordings, hazy cosmic jazz—but it’s all so very intentional, with controlled improvisation and orchestrated around tight ideas. A journey with a clear destination. (Bandcamp)

KMRU, Kevin Richard Martin, Disconnect

This is not a casual listen. I’ve gotten lost in this album’s moody, subterranean ambience so many times that I’m not even sure it’s safe to leave the house while listening to it. Apt title, now that I think about it. (Bandcamp)

My Best Unbeaten Brother, Pessimistic Pizza

My vote for lyrics of the year goes to this debut mini-album, a 24-minute barnstormer with material that covers everything from—and now I’m going to quote lyrics, which is usually bad form but let’s agree to bend the rules in this case—embarrassing nostalgia (“There’s a song you half-remember from some 1980s film that no one likes / that you quite liked”) to dismay over Brexit and Morrissey (“It takes extraordinary times / to make extraordinary things / We made extraordinary things / Now they’re broken things”). Brilliant from start to finish. (Bandcamp)

Prize Horse, Under Sound

Loved this the moment I first heard it and then spent a few listens trying to convince myself otherwise. (It’s a process and I think there’s something wrong with me.) Anyway, strong emo hardcore vibes here via Red House Painters, or maybe the other way around. I am overthinking this. It is great and I love it, thanks. (Bandcamp)

Maya Shenfeld, Under the Sun

While listening to this album a couple of days ago, I unexpectedly found myself brought to tears. When music does that, what is it that’s happening? Sometimes it’s nostalgia, sure, a song with a sense memory connected to a person or time or place. But not in the case of this, an album that came out just this year. So what then? In this case, it was a random, unconnected thought that the music then took hold of, inflecting it with emotion that hadn’t been there. Anyway, listen at your own peril. (Bandcamp)

Solpara, Melancholy Sabotage

Dark and house-y, it’s like open-mic night at the Haçienda ca. 1983. Which is to say, more sit-down than rave-up, and now I sound like a ca. 1983 Melody Maker reviewer. (Bandcamp)

Astrid Sonne, Great Doubt

Concerns over our personal and collective futures, uncertainty about—you know—everything, this is an album that’s so much of this time. Here, songs practically die on the vine, so much beauty left unfinished. It’s not that the music gives up, so much as it seems to be telling us if we tried, there could be so much more. (Bandcamp)

Still House Plants, If I don’t make it, I love u

With only three ingredients—vocals, guitar, drums, and not necessarily in that order—Still House Plants is capable of making marvelous rackets of every shape and size. Across their unadorned, intimate, and wildly experimental new album, Still House Plants traverses a number of different takes on a sound that is uniquely their own. Just when you think they’ve exhausted the possibilities, here comes another song, quite unlike the last. (Bandcamp)

Water Damage, In E

Drone-y and screechy, the four 20-minute tracks on this album are a wash of fuzz and pulsating rhythms. Apparently the band’s motto is “maximal repetition, minimal deviation,” and it’s an effective ethos. Because while the seven people in the band combine to create a huge sound, they’re so in sync that it seems like a far smaller group that’s playing. A fascinating effect. (Bandcamp)

Xylitol, Anemones

The album defies all expectations—specifically mine. The lead-up singles for this album had me believing we were going to get an experimental, leftfield drum and bass record. But those were only gateway beats, so it seems. Because from the get-go on Anemones, there’s very little of the aforementioned drum or bass, both of which are pushed way down into the mix—instead, it’s something even further afield than I would’ve thought, and it is wonderful. (Bandcamp)

Loula Yorke, Volta

Arpeggiated as all get-out—though it never suffers for it—this album is a whirl of inventiveness, without getting unnecessarily complex. (Is that all coming from a single synth?) After posting about the first single from the album a few months ago, a friend replied, “I’m a Loula Yorke fan now,” and I think that should speak for all of us. (Bandcamp)