UTK Off The Rails

Best Albums of 2024

It’s time for my annual self-indulgent run of thinking anyone cares about my musical opinions. If this isn’t your thing, delete it and move on. If it is, awesome. I’d highly recommend clicking through to the website because I went longer with this than I normally do!

Taylor. Billie. Beyonce. Ariana. Sabrina. This feels like one of those times when planets line up in just the right way, some sort of Planetary Parade of Divas. All female, yes, but at the height of their powers, sure. Up and down this list, we have a diverse group of artists with the power to use their powers. Say no to one of these. Imagine George Martin saying no to The Beatles - easier after “Get Back”, I understand - or Oldham saying “fix the riff, Keeff!” There’s no power great enough in the universe and that’s part of the strength and part of the weakness. Whether you believe that Jack Antonoff and Aaron Dessner really have as big a hold on the music of Taylor Swift as some might, it’s still Swift delivering it. The same holds for all of them, save Eilish, who’s partnership with her brother Finneas is something bigger.

You’ll detect some themes this year. The artists are in control and not just the divas. We’re seeing younger artists using digital technology to control things from the jump. We’re getting more stuff, better. Two of the artists on this year’s list released two albums and many (most?) released deluxe packages and such that game the algorithm a bit. That’s fine, but it’s leading to some editing issues. Years ago, I thought that the net would bring back singles. Why wait to drop a whole album if you can just do a single and have it hit? That’s still true to some extent

Yet I’m almost as excited about the smaller, newer acts. This was an unbelievably deep year. By mid-year, I was wondering if anything would push its way in, then July brought a handful of new albums. It went start to finish and things that didn’t make the top twenty this year would have been top ten in some recent ones. I even had to go to 25 just to get in things I thought had to be in. Some of these in the back third would be top contenders in other years. People like Hamish Hawk and Sarah Jarosz made albums that measure up to their other work and yet, this year was just really deep, really good, not that demure. There are albums I would have sworn would be top five and they’re closer to twenty and again, that’s not a slight, especially this year.

There were great albums from Midland, from Soccer Mommy, Bleachers, even King George Strait himself that didn’t make this list and are really solid. I could go on and on with this - Better Than Ezra (who are also great live), Green Day, Lainey Wilson, Japandroids, Aaron Lee Tasjian - on the “just missed” or I could have gone fifty deep, but I’m probably going over the Substack limit already. (Which reminds me, if I do, you can always click on the site to see the rest of the post.) Did I mention Slash, Lizzie No, or Medium Build? All great. Robert Glasper made four albums this year, all worth a listen, with Let Go the standout.

There’s even some surprises. The Airborne Toxic Event’s album just didn’t land for me and misses my top ten for the first time in their career. Kacey Musgraves made some good songs, but not a great album, though I think a ton of her work and her voice. It’s always interesting when great artists miss taking big swings as both of those did here. Not every Springsteen album is great, after all.

And no, Charli XCX just didn’t register with me, nor frankly is it supposed to. No one will say I have brat energy. I can appreciate it, I can be glad something like it exists and is a cultural moment, but it’s not going to make my list. Same for Cowboy Carter, which seemed more exclusionary and finger-pointing than a genre exercise like Ray Charles’ classic Nashville albums.

As always, this is my rules and my taste alone. I hope you will drop what you think I missed in the comments and that you find something you hadn’t heard (or hear it again) in this list. You can listen to my sampler here, at Apple Music. Thanks for reading.

Taylor Swift, The Tortured Poets Department

I spent a six hour drive to Michigan with this album, better than six months after it came out. That might seem odd, but it was intentional. Listening to this album over and over is how most people consume it. I’m not the target market, to be sure, but Taylor Swift has transcended genre and demographics at this point. She could likely do The Eras Tour forever - no, I didn’t get tickets to the Indy shows - and make another billion.

But at the same time, she’s living life. One breakup, a messy fling, and another relationship, all in the time it takes to make an album. (And likely remaking another, if the Reputation rumors are to be believed.) So announcing an album while winning a Grammy is a bit of a flex, but Swift wants it noted that she’s not only the top artist out there now, but also the busiest.

One would think that she’s running out of material, or losing touch with the universalist impulses that have led her to this point. Not so. Instead, she’s living a private jet life and putting it in terms that everyone understands. Heartbreak is heartbreak. Jerks are jerks. And she pulls no punches, even self-directed.

Swift has tended to make albums in twos, changing things up and then consolidating before doing it again. TPD pairs with Midnights and it’s very clear they’re of a piece. She’s using her same production, letting Jack Antonoff find the hooks and Aaron Dessner of The National to find the vibe. Swift is far from hands off and going 16 deep on an album should mean that the skip button is essential. Yet somehow it’s not. She manages to juggle styles and subjects to constantly have the listener almost active.

It would be easy to think that ending the Eras Tour Era would mean a break. Maybe it’s the self-care era or the wedding era, but there’s albums to redo and Swift’s work ethic has never been in question. But looking forward might make us look past just how good this work is and it really is just that good.

Often, it takes me a while to come around on a Swift album. Her early albums were standouts largely because she was so young, and so good. Songs from her first album hold up remarkably well. Even Stevie Wonder doesn’t do that. I missed some because she was off the streamers. I didn’t love Reputation, but Lover was one where I came around after a first listen that left me cold. This one had some standout songs, but might be her most complete album. Best? I’m not “Red”-y to put that sign up just yet, but maybe. Perhaps we’ll get another announcement at the Grammys this year as well.

Johnnie Blue Skies, Passage du Desir

New name or not, this is a Sturgill Simpson album and the more I listen to it, I think that’s what Simpson wants us to say. The Johnnie Blue Skies name doesn’t have the back story of a Chris Gaines - shut up, it’s underrated - and it isn’t the kind of ‘can I hide’ move that Prince’s Camille (or Richard Bachmann) was. The fact is that Simpson can do anything he wants because he can do anything he wants. He’s done bluegrass and very near metal for his last four albums and now, under whatever name, he’s gone back to Sailor’s Guide era Simpson. He had to become someone else to be himself? Too deep for me.

This is a calmer album than most. Less horns. Less chaos. A confident Waylon croon that’s lost some of the rough edge with both age and with his vocal issues from 2021. None of that makes this less good. Is it as good as Sailor’s Guide? No, but what is? The songs are long, lush, but well thought out. The lyrical twists are there as always, and if there’s not a hit single, well, this was never going to be that kind of album. There’s definitely songs that will stand up next to the rest of his catalog on his upcoming tour.

That tour is where things seem to get even more interesting. He’s been playing loose, doing covers like “LA Woman” and even a stunning, very original version of “Purple Rain.” While in the abstract, Simpson doesn’t seem to know exactly where he wants to be, the music does and he comes alive on tour. That he’s packing out the sheds across the country gives me some hope in a hopeless time.

Nashville in 2024 is Luke Combs at its heart. He spent much of last year playing “Fast Car” with the respect that the song deserved and getting Tracy Chapman the respect she long deserved. When he went to make his own album, he made dad rock with an accent. It’s fine, but while Combs has been the most commercial sounding (not looking) artist in the last decade of Nashville creations, he’s still been overshadowed by Zach Bryan, who did much the same thing in a more authentic feeling way. Simpson’s done the same, but on a completely different wavelength.

It seems like questions about what country is are hitting a peak at the same time the country has taken a hard conservative turn. If that feels like the perfect time for the latest back to basics new traditionalism, you’re right. It seems to happen every so often and it’s likely to come around again, even when the most interesting things are happening at the fringes.

Koe Wetzel, 9 Lives

Koe Wetzel’s last album sounded like a last gasp. Wetzel’s outlaw/drunk redneck act had reached its conclusion, but his talent and songwriting carried him through. The question was, what was next? He hinted at genre skipping, like Simpson, but instead, he got Noah Kahan’s producer and made his best album yet. It’s succinct, polished, and yet distinctly Wetzel. It’s not a sellout album but there’s songs that tell you he could if he wanted to.

Wetzel still has his Waylon Jennings-esque voice and his talent for twisting songs. “Damn Near Normal” is one that JD Vance wishes he’d written (and was) with its harsh tales of failed lives and hard drugs. He has a three song group about failure in America at the start, a three song group about relationships towards the end, and three songs in the middle (Leigh, Twisters, and High Road) that should be hits on modern country radio, but won’t be.

Where Wetzel really shines is when he turns covers into statements. He goes hard Texas songwriter with Keith Gattis’ beloved “Reconsider.” He plays it straight and shows he can, when he wants to. The other is XXXTentacion’s “Depression and Obsession” which he turns into a Kurt Cobain lost tape.

Wetzel ends with a sea-shanty murder ballad that should be a concert singalong in “Bar Song” and an introspective song called “Last Outlaw Alive” that once again has him asking himself if this is how Hank did it. He’s doing it how Koe Wetzel does it, one of the most unique talents in the space, with his most complete and possibly best album. Shooter Jennings never (nay, hasn’t yet) became the star he should have; there’s still hope for Koe Wetzel. (BTW, Jennings’ album this year should be just avoided.)

Back in 2022 when Hell Paso made my list, I said this:

There have been suggestions that Wetzel’s tired of the act too, that his next album might be straight country. Pulling a reverse Sturgill Simpson would be an interestingly perverse move for Wetzel and he certainly has the talent to pull it off if he chooses. As Simpson has shown, there’s no need for anyone to stand still. I’m just hoping Koe Wetzel stays standing.

Well, he’s standing, and strong. I’m not sure if I’d call this a straight country album, but it’s closer. He moved away from being a caricature to being a character. Wetzel changed and that, my friend, is pretty damn impressive, like this album.

This really should be a tie for 2 with Sturgill/Blue Skies. I went back and forth and while they’re largely different except for some vocal range similarities, they’re very, very different and yet both very, very good.

Kendrick Lamar, GNX

I think I like angry Kendrick. The surprise album dropped at the end of the year and immediately becomes a classic in the genre. In a year where Kendrick absolutely crushed Drake in the nastiest rap beef that didn’t end in gunfire (yet), he not only dropped “Not Like Us”, but GNX stands as perhaps his best work.

The issue with Lamar is never his quality or work, but that so much of it is simply not for me. It is not only not aimed at a middle-aged, middle-class, mid-west white guy, it almost excludes me by design. And that’s okay.

Confidence? In spades. He doesn’t just have the balls to diss Drake by name and call him a pedophile, he’s sampling Luther Vandross on a song named “Luther.” He’s sampling Tupac’s last song on a song named “Reincarnated.” Yes, I almost expected a Tupac guest verse here and he’s been dead longer than he was alive, probably. He details what would make up the greatest, and firmly says it’s him.

Is there even anyone close to Kendrick right now? Is he right that hip hop is dead? Jay-Z is more focused on billionaire status and the NFL - putting Lamar in the Super Bowl halftime in Lil Wayne’s hometown, but it’s hard to argue, especially if he knew this was coming. We’re seeing a peak artist at a peak time. Kanye West has gone even crazier. J Cole doesn’t have the broad awareness. Carti? Nicki? Diddy’s definitely off the board and never should have been more than a footnote to Biggie. I’m hard pressed to say there’s anyone in the picture that has the mainstream consciousness and the artistic credibility.

Putting this at four is probably one I’ll regret. I haven’t has as much time to absorb it and again, most of this is not for me. That it can be this openly great on even the first listen when it is explicitly not for me just makes its greatness stand out more. The Buick GNX was the baddest car in the world for a while, a dark black Darth Vader of a sports car eater. Lamar is much the same right now.

Jamey Johnson, Midnight Gasoline

It’s easy to romanticize someone or something like an album a decade on. Then again, just listen to anything - and I mean anything - Jamey Johnson did in a four album run in the 2000’s. He finished it up with The Guitar Song, a double concept album, that is as good as anything that’s come out of Nashville. Full stop. He went from a semi-traditional hat act to a semi-controversial outlaw act to a torch-burning, bridge-burning rebel in just a few years, a few albums, and aside from a brilliant tribute album in 2012, he’s mostly been a rumor.

Well, here in late 2024, in the darkest days, Jamey Johnson pops up with an album that doesn’t miss a beat, let alone a decade of them. He addresses that gap in “Bad Guy” brilliantly, writes the best Jimmy Buffett song since 1989 (look it up) on the title track, and then echoes Willie Nelson on “What A View” with a twist I could tell you about and you still wouldn’t see coming. That’s just the first three songs, folks, and he’s basically done the clear cups and balls trick. Take the applause and go home.

Nope. Johnson’s back and he’s announcing it. He’s not even 50 years old. A concussion might have taken away a decade, but he’s seemingly lost nothing off the fastball. His voice is only slightly mellowed, but in a good way, a bit more Willie than Waylon, even a bit more George (Jones, not Strait, though the King might want a couple of these songs.)

Does he let off the gas? No. He stabs you in the heart with “21 Guns” and “When I Get Old.” Look, I don’t normally go song by song through these but I cannot say enough how great they are on the first listen and the fiftieth. These two recall the phrase from Randy Rogers’ classic, reminding us that Johnson doesn’t have hits, he has standards.

The album never quite reaches those heights again, but there’s never a moment where he’s letting up or filling out an album. When radio stations used to occasionally play a whole album side, this is one that would be up there with the all time greats. Even then, country has always been more about the hit single than the great album. This is both, or should be.

Mainstream culture celebrates Reba McEntire as the “Queen of Country Music”, if you hear them say it every ten seconds on The Voice. Well, Reba’s made two real albums since Johnson went dark. Her last number one single was “Turn On The Radio” in 2011. I’m sure you remember that classic. No? While Johnson has been playing the Grand Ole Opry all along and no one thought he was dead, Nashville basically skipped a generation and decided to sell out as much as it possibly could. We can only hope that the greats like Johnson, Steve Earle, and the people like them get another 20 years to get the acclaim they deserve.

The Cure, Songs of a Lost World

It’s been 42 years since Pornography, 37 since people first heard “Just Like Heaven”, and 35 since the absolute masterpiece that is Disintegration. The Cure hasn’t done a real album in 16 years, but they’ve been touring much of that period. Does that make them the goth Rolling Stones? It’s not the worst comparison and like the Stones, The Cure comes back with a work that is both true to their spirit and a step … somewhere. A band like the Stones or The Cure don’t need to step forward, or even record. They could tour forever on their catalog. For god’s sake, Foghat still exists in some Frankenstein format. I saw a review that said “this is The Cure’s best work since Thatcher was in power” and, yeah. She left in 1990, outlasting Reagan and most of the protests against her from the mid-70s to the dark early 80’s, but The Cure remains vital, even in a very changed world.

So one question is why? What does Robert Smith have to say and to put down in vinyl that he hasn’t for the last two decades almost? In interviews, Smith has said this is a dark, personal album. His parents and his brother have died since he last recorded and the world does appear lost. Smith has always been able to sound cheery, even whimsical, and still look like he does.

Get out the absinthe and the anti-depressants for this one. Smith wasn’t lying and it starts right out of the gate. “This is the end of every song we sing,” is the first line of the first song, “Alone.” It doesn’t come until the near-seven minute song is almost halfway done, three-plus minutes of synth-string symphony and a thunderous drum in the distance reminds us, yes, this is a Cure album alright.

There’s a lot going on musically, though it remains Cure to the core. This is largely because no matter how big the soundstage gets, the center is always Smith’s unique voice, but he’s not alone. Jason Cooper is often central, with his drums lurking in the background, almost tribal, always threatening. (Rolling Stone called it “power doom” and it’s apt.)

Reeves Gabrels is also back there, weaving guitar noise behind Smith the way he once did for David Bowie. If anything, this feels like a Disintegration-style symphony and again, Smith cuts through it. This shows up best on “Endsong”, which feels like a mic drop moment. There’s a shift at 2:30 where Gabrels just says ‘stand back, I got this’ and shreds like no one’s business for the next five minutes while Smith is peak Smith.

If there’s any weakness, it’s that there’s a dark cloud on every song. That leads to a sameness of spirit. There’s no “Just Like Heaven” or “Friday I’m In Love” here, or even close. But it’s openly an album about death. Should there, could there be any break, let alone a pop song? It made me look back at Disintegration and it’s not a good comp. There are great pop songs on here and there’s shimmery elements and whimsical instrumentation. No, you have to go back to Pornography to see this dark and I feel like that’s by design.

Smith has hinted that Lost World might be a triptych, though he’s also suggested that Pornography, Disintegration, and 4:13 Dream are a trilogy. I’ve never been able to figure out the through line, aside from Smith himself. If we get two more of anything from The Cure, I’ll be happy, and if they could kindly tour somewhere nearer Indianapolis than they have in the past or play a bigger venue in Chicago where I might get tickets, that’s one band I’d love to see live for once.

Zach Bryan, The Great American Bar Scene

Zach Bryan is one of the most singular forces in music right now, filling arenas despite none of the promotion or machinations of others. He’s as authentic as any, or seemingly so, to a point where he can open an album with a spoken word poem and no one blinks. There’s no one to tell him no either, which is both a power and a weakness. His first album needed an editor and quality control, but it had undeniable moments of greatness.

Which leads us to the idea of what makes this list. George Strait would have never made it and his album this year is another in a long line of very good George Strait albums, but he’s a singles artist of the highest order. He’ll do three GREAT songs and then a bunch of filler. It’s not good or bad and Strait is not only rich but beloved, something pretty tough to pull off, especially considering he went Hollywood for a bit there in the Nineties.

Bryan basically did another double album this time and there’s a lot of varying sound, but less variance than on his first. He had songs that sounded like they were recorded on a cassette player, not even an iPhone note. This time, there’s much more clear influence and it’s not just clear because Bruce Springsteen and John Mayer appear on the album. Bryan’s very clearly in his Springsteen era, with some train whistle vocals, some big band Rosalita noise, and some harmonica mixed in here and there.

Except I really thought about this. Born To Run was Springsteen’s third album and this isn’t that. Yes, the Springsteen comps are all there, but I think it’s another third album where this comps even better. This is Speak Now. No, it sounds nothing like Swift, but that was the one where she first toyed with leaving country and going pop, which she did in full with Red. “Mean” and “The Story of Us” would fit on this album, though there’d be far different production.

Zach Bryan won’t have to leave country because he was never really a part of the corporate machine. His freedom has always been a blessing and a curse, but now, I think he’s going to do something completely different now that he’s conquered this stage.

Mk.Gee, Two Star & The Dream Police

Mk.Gee has been whispered about more than he’s been listened to. He’s something of a guitar hero, touted by everyone from Eric Clapton to Frank Ocean - there’s a range - and he seemingly found his spot playing with Dijon. That partnership, captured in a magical video, seemed to be where Mk.Gee was heading. It took three more years, but Mk.Gee’s back on his own, making his Fender sound like no one else and while the album’s title is seemingly meaningless, the album is anything but.

Let me go real deep cut here - and it’s most evident on “Candy” - but if there’s any comparison here, you have to go all the way back to Scritti Politti. Yeah, I said deep. The magic of the album is everything is super-processed. Gordon’s vocals, his unique guitar, and yet it feels both alien and comfortable. There’s everything from yacht rock to Odd Future in here and a lot in between. (Seriously, there’s a lot of Christopher Cross here, which should remind you that not only is Cross a great guitarist, he had Eric Johnson alongside him early.)

Eric Clapton compared Mk.Gee to Prince. Justin Hawkins - whose YouTube channel is absolutely must watch, the third best thing on YouTube aside from Hot Ones and a how to on everything in the world - was dumbfounded by him, something I’ve never seen happen to Hawkins. Hawkins had a great comp in Lemon Twigs, who are so aggressively retro to be outside my zone, but I get it. For me, there was no album I kept going back to and finding new things. It seems to get better and better and it just kept creeping back into my mind. There’s even some Reddit conspiracy theories about this being a concept album, but I’ll let you dig those up on your own.

Most of the songs are short - “DNM” is under two minutes and the whole album is 12 songs in just over half an hour. It may feel slight at first, but Mk.Gee’s style, both guitar and vocal, is just strong enough to get past the bedroom pop label and go mainstream. It’s hard to imagine him stepping up to something that might play stadiums, but this album is probably closer to the floor than Mk.Gee’s ceiling. Two Star is one to dream on.

Childish Gambino, Atavista

This is what happens when you give Donald Glover several years and no guardrails. Glover’s already a big TV star and there’s no reason to think he couldn’t translate that to movies. His “rap” act became something like a late Prince album his last time out, in 2016, and he had one of the best songs of the year with “This Is America,” which should be on the Mount Rushmore of protest songs. So I’m not surprised how outright great this is.

That said, it’s sloppy and overproduced at once. There’s no one to really tell him no and this is an album without limits of genre or style. Songs go too long. Codas get attached for no reason, like he told someone to do a feature then forgot to put in the song.

The first time you hear “Littlefoot Bigfoot” (or see the video, below), it’s a WTF moment. We’ve seen Glover play off minstrel themes, but he goes for it here. It’s a full genre piece (for most of it) with modern rap-style lyrics. Yet somehow, it’s an earworm of the highest order. The coda makes utterly no sense until you realize the juxtaposition of drug-glorifying vaudeville lyrics to ego-driven rap monologues with an Al Jolson beat.

It’s all messy and brilliant and the kind of thing that makes you wonder what Childish Gambino might be if he focused this way rather than whatever comes after Mr. and Mrs Smith and the Community movie. (Oh, and whatever the heck Bando Stone* was, which seems again that he’s got no boundaries, let alone limits.) There are moments where he shows he can rap with the best of them, that he can R&B well enough to mimic a quiet storm, and can even evoke Prince, not just musically but in the “I’m going to do whatever I want and you’ll like it” way that few can. It’s left just shy of a masterpiece and I think we’ll think of this a lot like Sign O The Times.

*Yes, Gambino/Glover had another full album out, a titular soundtrack to a movie he may have already made, but probably not. It’s supposedly the last of this “era” for Glover. No one’s sure if that means he’ll do something different, if he’s done with music for a while or what. The issue I have with Bando is much like with Atavista, but moreso. It’s even more unfocused, even more unedited, perhaps because he hasn’t had a few years to think about it and change things, but more just because once again, if you can do anything, what’s the next thing you do? I’m not saying Bando is bad or that it doesn’t belong somewhere on this list, but I think we should just take Glover’s work for the year in one bite. I’d easily choose Atavista over Bando and it’s my list.

Pearl Jam, Dark Matter

When I first heard that Pearl Jam was going to work with Andrew Watt, who’d just done the incredible sounding Rolling Stones album, I was excited. Watt seems to somehow bring the best out of artists and his production work produces some of the cleanest, most unique sounding albums despite him not having some signature sound. It’s not like Rick Rubin, who meditates something out of his artists, but Watt seems to give his artists some big new soundstage, like going from a stadium into The Sphere.

That’s exactly the case with Pearl Jam’s latest. It’s big, it’s bold, it’s super clean. It’s still very clearly Pearl Jam. The album seamlessly bridges the raw energy of their early '90s work with the maturity and depth acquired over three decades. The band revisits the heavier roots that defined their initial success, while also venturing into experimental soundscapes that reflect their growth. Producer Watt plays a pivotal role in this creative process. His influence is evident in the album's immediacy and cohesiveness, fostering a recording environment that emphasized spontaneity and collaboration. This approach contrasts with the protracted production of their previous album (Gigaton) yielding a more unified and dynamic sound.

The album opens with "Scared of Fear," a track that channels the band's early vigor with blurring guitars and an arena-made melody reminiscent of their golden period. "React, Respond" follows, delivering a punk-leaning energy that harkens back to the intensity of Vs.

"Wreckage," a mid-tempo composition, juxtaposes a breezy musical arrangement with reflective lyrics, showcasing Pearl Jam's talent for merging melody with depth. The title track, "Dark Matter," stands out as a grinding, metallic rocker that, while well-intentioned in its commentary, has been critiqued for its simplicity.

The production quality of Dark Matter has been widely praised for capturing the raw energy of Pearl Jam's live performances while delivering a polished and contemporary sound. Watt's influence is evident in the album's immediacy and cohesiveness, with the band recording together in a room, fostering a sense of unity and spontaneity. This method contrasts with the more segmented recording processes of previous albums, resulting in a record that feels both fresh and authentically Pearl Jam.

(As we clear the top ten, a reminder that there is a length limit on emails. Not sure where that will fall, but you can read the complete list of 25 - plus two bonuses! - at the website, as you can with any older article I’ve done. As a subscriber, you get the archives.)

Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes, Dark Rainbow

Have a friend listen to this with you. Even if both of you aren’t familiar with Frank Carter, I don’t think anyone would think “punk” from this album. Carter has a damn good voice, writes a damn good song, and while “pop-punk” vacillates on whether it’s a pejorative or not, this isn’t that. It’s neither and not in-between.

Dark Rainbow is a notable pivot from the band’s trajectory, favoring emotional introspection over past punk ferocity. Carter, known for his raw intensity - I mean, he fronted the Sex Pistols at a club show when John Lydon passed - shifts toward a more polished alt-rock approach, marking the band’s most mature, cohesive effort yet. Tracks like "Man of the Hour" and "American Spirit" exemplify the album's mix of vulnerability and swagger, as Carter embraces synths, piano, and even crooning, delivering an uncharacteristic tenderness. Despite the smoother sound, there's still plenty of edge. "Brambles" and "Self Love" feature the punchy guitars and thick bass lines that define their earlier work, albeit with more production​ touch. Too much? Just enough?.

The album’s overarching theme is self-examination, exploring Carter’s struggles and growth with surprising honesty. The band’s chemistry remains evident, with guitarist Dean Richardson’s riffs acting as both a companion and counterpoint to Carter’s vocals. The pacing is deliberate: tracks like "Happier Days" slow things down before building toward the climactic title track, which blends softer tones with a final burst of energy​.

Dark Rainbow is ambitious, trading rapid-fire punk anthems for a sound that’s brooding, layered, and occasionally romantic. It’s not a record for headbanging but rather one for reflection, showing how Carter continues evolving beyond the hardcore roots​. It’s a bold step that could divide fans but undoubtedly solidifies their place in modern rock's broader landscape.

Jack White, No Name

Jack White toured behind this album, playing in tiny clubs and VFW halls. It was a very Jack White thing to do, but he seemed to get back to basics. Again - thematic warning - Jack White can seemingly do anything. I remember the scene in “It Might Get Loud” where he builds a guitar out of a box and some string and then starts playing blues that sounds amazing on it. Jimmy Page has riffs and The Edge has effects, but Jack White has magic, it seemed.

Of course, “basics” is never quite basic and the wide view is that White going back to his White Stripes sound is a very good thing. It is, but did he ever stray that far? He’s a bit more guitar, but it’s hardly the only sound. Even on his weird little tour, he had a full band. White’s always been a less is more guy who can somehow be ridiculously maximalist at the same time. He plays an old guitar, dresses kind of old timey, plays blues rock like the only record he’s ever heard was a garage sale vinyl of the MC5, and he’s both trapped and freed by the fact the White Stripes both overshadow him and everyone in the genre and yet he often ignores that part of his catalog.

All of these are external things and for White, it doesn’t seem to matter at all. He’s going to do what he wants, how he wants, and if you like it, fine. It’s hard not to like pretty much everything on No Name, from the first big, heavy riff to the last. That’s what sticks with this album, from nearly the first notes. “That’s How I’m Feeling” is simple, but could be an anthem for the time. “Bombing Out” is frenetic as a news cycle.

White could probably be conventional, fill arenas, and coast on what he did a decade ago. Instead, he’s doing what he wants and it’s still pretty damn exciting all these years down the line. There’s not many rock stars left, but White is definitely one of them.

Omar Apollo, God Said No

Omar Apollo hasn’t quite broken out. Not everyone is going to see Queer, even with Daniel Craig, and they actually put “Who is Omar Apollo?” - with no answer! -on the packets of his signature meal at Taco Bell. It’s almost more an advertisement than a question because, once again, Apollo seems to be able to do everything. On this album, he slides from neo-soul to pop to rap to dance to some genres that I’m not sure have names, hopping from vibe to vibe on every song.

He nails almost all of these and could do a whole very good album in any of the genres. His voice is ridiculously good, an instrument as much as any of the real or synthetic things behind him and at times, they barely matter. Apollo doesn’t just embrace all the aspects of himself, he makes you embrace it as well. He’ll slink in an R&B slow jam and slide back with a mariachi flair. (His cover of Sabrina Carpenter’s “Please Please Please” is a master class.)

His ability to do everything makes assessing him a bit harder, but the art stands on its own. It’s kind of like weather - if you don’t like it, it will change by the next song. What isn’t answered is, “who is Omar Apollo?” That’s left to him and it appears the answer is “everything, all at once.”

Fabiano Palladino, Fabiano Palladino

Where the heck did this come from? I had to check with people to see if they were catching the Prince vibes and yes, this sounds to me a lot like Palladino is the new Vanity or Sheena Easton. I know he’s gone, but let me pretend that like Baptists believe the Bible was divinely inspired, there might be a chance that Prince could do the same for someone. That’s not an insult or short-changing Palladino and her production team; instead, it’s high compliment.

Later listens to this album really bring out more Janet Jackson vibes, specifically her underrated Janet album. As a huge Jam/Lewis fan, that one has long stood alongside their best work for me and one where they were more restrained and less the sound of the decade that they were. Palladino’s voice is as confident as Janet’s ever was, again, high compliment.

Well, Palladino didn’t have Jam and Lewis, or Prince, but as a singer/songwriter, Palladino - the daughter of ace bassist Pino Palladino, who’s played with literally everyone - shows all she needs is her. The songs are creative, but not experimental. She seems to know where she needs to be, despite quirky beats and slippery keys. I have to go back to both confidence and knowing what she wants to do, with the production supporting her at every step. The fact that this didn’t get any American traction stuns me, but Palladino is too good an artist to be ignored long.

Billie Eilish, Hit Me Hard And Soft

Continuing the theme, Billie Eilish (and her brother Finneas O’Connell) have always maintained control despite their youth and inexperience. They’ve moved from bedrooms to arenas almost overnight while losing none of their credibility. That’s an incredible enough feat as it is, but add in that Eilish has become a paparazzi darling at the same time and it’s a wonder we haven’t seen more issues.

Even more surprising, Eilish and the music have grown. Eilish makes no secret that she’s an evolving person and if references to her fluid love life bother you, you’re really not going to like the lyrics. It can be dirty like “Lunch” or ethereally sweet like “Birds of a Feather”, but everything almost - almost - seems like a concept album, especially the multi-part songs at the end.

But let’s talk about “Birds of a Feather.” Instant classic pop song, but I’m curious how Eilish (and Finneas) subvert the standard here. It’s a prom song, but it has a quirky beat that would make all but the most free-form slow dancing difficult. It checks all the boxes without fitting in the box. The ability to do that is one thing and entirely another to not just be allowed, but to demand that kind of control and freedom is almost singular.

Eilish remains one of the most intriguing stars working today. The freedom she has to experiment has led her through a couple eras already and if there’s any artist who will be doing an Eras Tour equivalent in ten years, it’s her.

Crawlers, The Mess We Seem To Make

There’s a lot of 80’s influence in music right now, but Crawlers (no “the”) bring back one that’s a bit forgotten. At their best, they invoke the moody new wave band The Motels. Martha Davis was one of the distinctive voices of the early MTV era and you can hear that clearly when Holly Minto gets going. She tends to be smaller than Davis usually was, though largely in service of the songs. That’s hardly a criticism and the ability to stand out against a lot of current British bands is largely because of those moments when Minto really steps forward.

I don’t know if Crawlers or Minto know who The Motels were. (Are? Davis still plays the retro scene, I see.) I honestly don’t know much about them, but coming on the heels of Sam Fender and Holly Humberstone, this album is in much the same space if far different sounding. Fender is more Springsteen by way of Stone Roses. Humberstone is an emo diva who could break big next time out. Crawlers doesn’t quite have the ambition, yet, but there’s a lot to like here.

The band toured in front of My Chemical Romance and word is they killed live. They already have a passionate British base - the “Creepy Crawlers” - and their unique sound allows them to stand out on first listen. It’s easy to see where this band could go, as long as they can keep moments like “Kills Me To Be Kind”, with its euphoric guitar solo, and choruses like the iconic “Come Over (Again)” coming.

For a debut album, this is not only strong, but foundational. This is a band that could be the next big British thing in a way we haven’t seen in a while. They’re young, talented, and unique, which is a tough combo to pull off in a world where it’s much safer to be a nostalgia act or easily defined.

Hamish Hawk, A Firmer Hand

Second albums are hard. But wait, this is Hamish Hawk’s third album, Will. Yes, but I missed his first album, so that thrill of discovery hit me on his second album. Which is really about all that’s missing here. I’m not sure there’s a standout song like “Think of Us Kissing” or the title track from Angel Numbers, but there’s plenty of really, really good ones. His voice leans a bit more to the Morrissey, he gets a bit cuter with the lyrics - though on subsequent listens they sound more confident than cute - and there’s a bit more variety.

Hawk’s voice is the issue for most people, that or the wordiness of his lyrics. Everything’s a matter of taste and where you might not love it, I heard My Bloody Valentine, The Smiths, and a touch of Stone Roses (music, not voice.) It’s an interesting combo in that all of them are beloved, but none of them were tremendously commercial. I’m curious if Hawk can make the leap and I can’t come up with a good comp. British guy with a non-standard voice … I don’t think it’s David Bowie. Alex Turner of Arctic Monkeys also came to mind. The one I think it might be doesn’t sounds anything like Hawk, but Kate Bush didn’t sound like anyone - still doesn’t - and she’s had some measure of success, moreso in Britain.

This album looks like a drop from where I had the last one rated, but this is more a function of this being an exceptionally deep crop of albums on this list. This is a very good album and twenty years from now, when we look back at Hamish Hawk’s catalog, this is going to stand up with the last two and I assume the next ten. Again, that’s a matter of taste and who knows what happens next. I’ll put this one on repeat, thank you, and drink a Glaswegian Scotch while I listen. (That’s likely a Compass Box, or maybe an Auchentoshan, though those have gotten expensive!)

Sarah Jarosz, Polaroid Lovers

Polaroid Lovers is Sarah Jarosz’s boldest move yet — a masterclass in folk-inspired storytelling that never forgets to stay raw, real, and just a touch restless. It’s an album filled with layered melodies, rootsy textures, and moments that linger like a well-worn memory. From the very start with “Jealous Moon,” Jarosz’s voice is richer than ever, wrapping around each lyric like it’s telling a secret, yet inviting you in.

The songwriting here is pure Americana poetry, but there’s a more expansive feel this time around. “When The Lights Go Out” and “Columbus & 89th” drift between heartbreak and hope, capturing that bittersweet magic that Jarosz has always excelled at. Yet, there’s a noticeable shift — her arrangements are broader, her soundscapes more cinematic. It’s like she’s widened the lens, offering up a panoramic view of life’s fleeting beauty. Is that a Chris Thile influence I hear? I think yes.

And then there’s the production. It’s subtle but smart, adding depth without getting in the way of the storytelling. “Days Can Turn Around” pulls you in with its soft brushed drums and subtle Western echos and harmonies that swell like a rising tide, while “The Way It Is Now” flirts with electronic undercurrents, hinting at an artist willing to step out of her comfort zone.

Polaroid Lovers doesn’t just settle for the familiar. It’s a record that revels in the moments in between—a journey through memories that feel vivid, sometimes blurry, but always worth revisiting. This is Sarah Jarosz at her most open, her most ambitious, and perhaps, her most unforgettable.

Elmiene, Marking My Time (Again)/Anyway I Can

A parenthetical album title? A British neo-soul disciple of Maxwell doing a Jeff Buckley cover? This sounds almost like ChatGPT put out an album based on my Apple Music history, but Elmiene is real (I think), or as real as someone can be who’s more than willing to put their own signature on anything. While one could argue that the album is just a little too laid back and mellow, but that last song … yes, the Buckley song is the last one, despite there being an unplugged version and a remix coming after it. Mentally, that song is where this album was leading and it worked in every sense.

This album seemingly gets more confident as it goes on. Elmiene isn’t figuring out as it goes along, but feels more like smart programming. The first few songs have a definite British feel, with a bit more production and even some auto-tune. By the middle, the songs are stronger, the feel is stronger, and they stand more on their own. By the time we get to the last three, Elmiene is firmly in control. The songs seem to follow along, if you can believe there’s a story here. I’m not saying this is some sort of concept album, but it’s a through line.

This isn’t a perfect album, but in a world where we can have shows full of singers auditioning for a run on a series of shows that are proven not to break many big and none of this genre, seeing a voice like this come forward is something that should be celebrated. In the right mood, this is a great album and a great moment.

But then Elmeine went and released another album! It might be only 27 minutes long and almost an EP, but it’s less an extension of Marking My Time (Again) as a slight evolution. Elmeine’s in the same space of neo-soul, the production is similar and on the edge of being overproduced and even busy at times, and the songs are similarly themed and strong. But it’s as if Elmeine took the confidence that was building in Marking My Time and just kept going. This is a solid, no-filler album.

Combined, the two albums mark the emergence of a serious new artist to watch. Where he’s at is really solid, but too many in the genre — Maxwell, D’Angelo, even Usher — haven’t grown from the initial expansive promise. (Usher hasn’t done anything but be Usher since Confessions. Filler albums with one good single don’t count and that’s been his last 20 years. Nice work if you can get it.) I think these albums have to be taken together despite being two different works and both are very worth a listen.

Rachel Chinouriri, What A Devastating Turn of Events

What a Devastating Turn of Events is an album that doesn’t hold back. Rachel Chinouriri takes you on an intimate tour of her hardest moments—stories of heartbreak, mental struggles, and the complexity of modern love—all wrapped up in a sound that blends indie-pop hooks with Britpop nostalgia. Right from “Garden of Eden,” the mood is set with introspective lyrics and layered guitars that feel both cathartic and raw. The song’s honesty is disarming, capturing Chinouriri’s self-doubt and resilience in equal measure.

Tracks like “Never Need Me” and “Dumb Bitch Juice” (such a great title) deliver some of the album’s sharpest punches. The former is a liberating send-off to toxic love, filled with catchy melodies that almost feel celebratory. The latter, meanwhile, channels humor and bitterness into a pop banger about dating chaos. There’s a fearless edge here, a willingness to laugh through the pain without diminishing it.

The title track is a gut-wrenching story of familial loss, pulling you into the bleakest depths before offering a moment of reflection. It’s the emotional core of the album, showcasing Chinouriri’s gift for turning personal tragedy into something universally relatable.

Yet, Chinouriri never lets things get too heavy for too long. The closing track, “So My Darling,” offers a gentle, acoustic sigh of relief, a reminder that there is still love and warmth to be found. It’s a fitting end to an album that balances pain and hope with remarkable grace.

I do not get how this got almost no traction in the US. Chinouriri isn’t a known, but in a year where SZA and other divas exploded in a year seemingly defined by the female artist, an ocean got in the way it seems. Chinouriri’s album took a while but was well worth the wait, but I’m hoping it won’t be as long for the next.

(Another quick reminder that if the article is cut off by the email limit, you can go to the website to read it all. I figure it has to be somewhere around here after 20.)

Ariana Grande, Eternal Sunshine

So what happens if Ariana Grande did a breakup album? Wait, that’s what Positions was supposed to be, but she moved on and broke up again, publicly, and made a big movie at the same time and continued to be a tabloid darling. She’s already come and gone as a Voice judge, found her theater kid soul on SNL, and while her work has never been aimed at me, I’ve always been able to appreciate her voice if not her (dare I say) brat persona? Add in “Oscar Nominee” and that’s an impressive resume.

Ariana Grande’s Eternal Sunshine tries to be her most personal album yet but often stumbles under the weight of its ambition. This concept record, inspired by both astrological themes and the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, presents a clear narrative about her recent divorce and the mental clarity that follows. Yet, while the themes are intriguing, the execution feels inconsistent. Some tracks capture the rawness of Grande’s heartbreak with sharp lyricism and strong melodies, but others settle for surface-level cliche, making the album feel like a mixed bag​. The highs are high and even the lows are just low in comparison.

Vocally, Grande opts for a more restrained approach — an admirable shift that showcases her range as a storyteller rather than just a wailing diva with ridiculous range. Songs like "We Can’t Be Friends (Wait for Your Love)" manage to blend lush R&B sounds with nostalgia-inducing 90s pop, hinting at a maturity we haven’t seen in her previous albums. However, other tracks suffer from predictable production choices, especially the Max Martin-driven beats that sometimes feel too safe and overly polished​.

While Eternal Sunshine aims for vulnerability, it rarely reaches the emotional depths of her earlier hits. Grande's shift toward a more introspective tone is notable, but the lyrics often lack the bite needed to sustain such a raw narrative. It’s a bold attempt at reinvention, but one that doesn’t always hit its mark. In the end, Grande's willingness to experiment earns applause, but the album’s highs and lows make it less than the no-skips masterpiece it aims to be.

Sterling Elza, Simpler Days

If you love Koe Wetzel, you’re going to like Sterling Elza. That reduces it too much, but it’s not the worst introduction. They sound alike, come from similar influences, if from different sides of Texas. Elza might be more akin to Treaty Oak Revival geographically, but they’re all part of an evolving definition of Red Dirt Country.

Simpler Days doesn’t just try to rewrite the rules of Red Dirt — it also embraces them. With a sound that feels as comfortable as a worn-in pair of boots, Elza takes us on a ride through heartbreak and hope, marked by earnest lyrics and rich but dirty guitar riffs. But don’t let the familiar sound fool you; there’s a fresh energy here, like a shot of whiskey at sunrise and it doesn’t just echo Wetzel.

Tracks like "Heaven Hill" are haunting, driven by a voice that sounds like he’s lived the stories it tells. Finding out that he was a tennis savant that’s only been playing a few years is a bit of a stunner. Sure, there’s a bit of repetition, but that’s part of its charm. He’s clearly still learning, but also comes from a musical family that gives this more depth than you’d expect from someone so young. In a genre that thrives on roots and grit, Elza is well on his way to becoming a fixture, not just a fleeting presence.

Finneas, For Cryin’ Out Loud!

In a year where a couple of the artists on this list dropped two albums, do we say the same about Finneas? He’s obviously a major part of Billie Eilish’s success and process, and she shows up here as well. But what I don’t get is why Finneas isn’t just as big. It’s virtually the same music. He dialed back and got a bit softer, just as Billie did on her Hit Me album. He got more personal, just as she did, though both have always leaned into almost emo confessional lyrics.

For someone knocked as a “bedroom artist”, Finneas’ production chops have gotten honed in the spotlight. He’s found a simple touch, deeper without being overdone or overprocessed, and there’s subtleties best heard in the Atmos mix, something better known producers still haven’t figured out. Part of this is that O’Connell got out of his bedroom and was “super collaborative”, he says. Each song has about a half-dozen credited songwriters and producers, so I guess so. It still feels all Finneas, but let’s credit some of that more open process.

This is obviously a bit of a breakup album, or just a wallowing in the loneliness of stardom. Songs like “Cleats” feel almost like Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” in the imagery, but Finneas hasn’t found a metaphor he can’t use and overuse. He’ll spend a song like “2001” finding more and more. He can make a new song somehow sound familiar without being cliche.

If there’s any weakness, it’s like Tom Petty once said: “the A&R man says he don’t hear a single.” The closest he gets is the title track, which has the strongest beat of the album and is also the most straightforward love/longing song of the bunch. Where Billie has single after single going viral, that’s what Finneas seems to lack somehow. The thing is, he doesn’t seem dissatisfied by this. He’s doing what he wants, Billie’s maintaining her identity, and he gets everything while being less hounded by the paparazzi.

Yes, the album ends with a song called “Family Feud.” It doesn’t seem like there is one, but in an age where anyone can do anything, with Eilish almost the poster girl for that, going from bedroom to superstar overnight, might one of them choose not to do it with each other? I hope not. What they’ve done together is too good.

Kaytranada, Timeless

This isn’t my genre. I’m normally not into electronic or dance, finding it repetitive and cliche rather than invigorating. That makes Kaytranada’s album all the more surprising, in that it’s clearly both and yet something entirely different. The Canadian producer doesn’t just create, he curates. There’s variety in the beats, the production, and definitely in the vocalists he brings in. Instead of being disjointed, it flows from style to style, sound to sound, somehow remaining of a piece through a whole listen.

And a whole listen is what you should do. Few albums today really demand a start-to-finish listen, either fluffed with filler or focused on singles or moments. This album builds towards the end of “Disc 1” and with the biggest name features stacked there - Tinashe, Anderson Paak, Childish Gambino go back to back to back - it’s clearly by design.

While I’ll admit that I don’t really understand the “Disc 1/Disc 2” structure, those last four songs aren’t coda or afterthought. It’s a clear vibe change, but there’s enough of those throughout the album that whatever this is supposed to be doesn’t land. It doesn’t take away from the album. Even Mitch Hedberg missed on some lines.

While the album demands a holistic listen, it’s also just mellow enough that it became a regular background play for me. The beats are innovative enough to be interesting, but it’s never so jarring or … loud to be distracting. It’s different than Robert Glasper’s Let Go, which was my other background play on the year, but for those out there that have Apple Music up behind the CMS, you’re welcome.

Kaytranada starts the album by calling it a classic. By the end, he’s not wrong. It’s well worth the digital equivalent of a spin, even if it’s not your genre either.

Wishy, Triple Seven

Indianapolis doesn’t have much of a music scene. It’s a bad concert town, being left off far too many tours that end up in Cincinnati and Louisville. So it’s nice to find a band that’s not only local, but good. Not just good, but really good and reminiscent of one of my favorite bands of all time. Wishy can darn near replicate the lamented Sundays and their wistful, breathy brit-pop. After my first full listen of Triple Seven, I had to go back and listen to Reading, Writing, Arithmetic and damn, it still sounds so good.

This isn’t to say it’s purely nostalgia. While I have a hard time imagining that Wishy doesn’t know of The Sundays or perhaps are directly influenced by them, none of them are old enough to remember them, or really any of the shoegaze sound that they have adopted. I mean, one of the tracks is “Just Like Sunday.” But even so, the nods to The Sundays, My Bloody Valentine, and even some early Midwest emo don’t descend into imitation and you’ll find the hooks will often be there hours later, like it or not.

In a year with this many good albums, being at the bottom of the list is no small feat, especially considering all the other albums that dropped off the list up to the last week of this list. This isn’t a local bump either, but an exciting first step for a band that seems to have all the tools. Second albums are always the hardest, but I’m excited to hear that already.

BONUS ALBUM and other mentions:

Steve Earle, Alone Again … Live

I don’t put live albums in my lists, but … damn. Steve Earle is a genius. Listen to any of these songs and you’re like - Springsteen! Mellencamp! All sorts of Americana and Country! He’s overcome addiction, crime, the death of a son, and here he is, sitting in a room with a bunch of people and a guitar and forty years of music and … damn.

Genius gets no credit in America. Anyone that says we have a meritocracy should listen to this live album. This isn’t Earle at his best, far from it. He’s broken hearted ten times over. His songs and his sound are past him now. He can do it, but he can’t do it at his best. And they’re actually better for it. If there’s anything that tells you it’s great, it’s that it’s great beyond good. Listen to this and tell me that sentence doesn’t make sense to you.

I saw Justin Townes Earle on his last tour and I saw Steve Earle on his Guitar Town tour in the late eighties. I’ll tell you which one I thought I might see again, and I was wrong. It’s heartbreaking in all the ways, good and bad, to hear him this raw, this emotional, this open, and know some of the why. And dammit, more people should feel this. I can’t put it in my Top 20 but I can feel the tears in my eyes telling you to care and to feel.

I’m at an age where my heroes are dying. It’s one thing to lose Jeff Buckley and Amy Winehouse way too early, wondering what might have been. It’s another to know that Willie Nelson isn’t actually immortal and neither is Bruce Springsteen or Bob Dylan or even Keith Richards. Tom Waits and Steve Earle will make the ‘in memoriam’ at the Grammys, but they deserve so much more.

Soundtrack to Bad Monkey and Petty Country (anthology)

Two albums, one songwriter. Tom Petty did all these songs - did you even notice most of the soundtrack to the hilarious Bad Monkey was Petty through the whole show? Probably not, because some of these are very different. Some are great, some are revelatory, and some are misses. Jason Isbell was born to sing some Petty and a whole album of him doing this (or REM, or almost anything) would be amazing. Weezer doing “Here Comes My Girl” shouldn’t surprise me after the Teal Album. There’s some unknowns in here, some ideas that didn’t make it all the way through, but it’s a showcase for the songs.

Petty Country plays it a bit straighter with the songs, just showing that maybe Petty could have been a Nashville guy if he hadn’t loved LA so much. George Strait doing “You Wreck Me” is unexpected and fun. Lady A should have been doing “Stop Draggin’” for years. I won’t list them all here, but it’s well worth a listen, and a reminder that the youngest Wilbury wasn’t the least of them by a long shot.