The big ten are here. These ten albums aren’t merely our favorites; they’re veritable modern classics that will go on to shape the course of music as time passes. In fact, some of them have already imparted a huge impact to artists that have achieved success in their wake.

It’s safe to say that the brilliance of these albums over the past five years has influenced the sounds currently being produced, and even albums we’ve already discussed in the previous four lists. These are the kings, queens, and genderless royalty of this decade’s albums to date. And after we list these albums, you can find our contributors’ picks for personal favorites left off the overall list—we call these Passionate Orphans—as well as why we think these albums should’ve made the cut.

Listen to all the albums on this list conveniently on our Spotify playlist, and check out all the other playlists we’ve made to get you caught up on the best this decade has offered us so far.

Best 50 Albums Of The Decade So Far (#10-#1)

Angel Olsen – Burn Your Fire For No Witness

Angel Olsen’s ghostly, haunting, lo-fi folk albums for Bathetic Records indicated that she had even greater things to come. After signing to bigger label Jagjaguwar and entering the studio with storied producer John Congleton and a full band to expand her sonic palette, she released sophomore album Burn Your Fire For No Witness in 2014 to still-growing acclaim. Many listeners will enjoy these songs on an initial listen of this album, and subsequent listens will likely expand on the emotional appeal of these songs. But their deep, undying resonance is achieved unexpectedly, after some time away from the album; these songs play forever in listeners’ heads, their candor and vitality never fading. On Burn Your Fire For No Witness, Olsen achieves the daunting task of turning her personal romantic struggles into unforgettable, uniting art via eleven fascinating, highly re-playable songs.

On a formal level, Burn is riveting due to its diverse influences. “High and Wild” throws piano shuffle and 12-bar blues into a rockabilly shuffle; “Forgiven/Forgotten” screams with grunge power; “Stars” aches with PJ Harvey’s primal, terrifying beckon; “Lights Out” slowly drips with swirling, dizzying echo and reverb. On a sonic level, each of Olsen’s many masks suits her incredibly well, and each of these eleven songs is branded with her unique mark despite their often divergent styles. Few musicians could get away with including the dreary folk sprawl of “White Fire” on the same album as the fully ironic cowgirl spree of “Hi Five,” but on Olsen’s watch, genres don’t mean a thing. Her priority is choosing any vehicle fit to deliver her breakup anthems, and she’s able to employ a wide diversity of approaches thanks to her nifty lyricism. “High and Wild” uses a handful of witty metaphors to describe a lover who’s departed in spirit, but still physically present; “Stars” describes the plight of an emotionally traumatic relationship without ever explicitly stating it; “Unfucktheworld” tries to find solace in solitude. With words and instrumentals this powerful and clever converging, it’s no wonder Burn has so much staying power and longevity. [Max]

Kendrick Lamar – good Kid, m.A.A.d. City

Following up on the success of his iTunes-independent record debut, Section.80, Kendrick Lamar got signed on one of the biggest rap labels in the country, under the tutelage of Dr. Dre. Thanks to Aftermath, Lamar released a concept-album as his second record (and first on a major label), pouring out his thoughts, dreams, and worries about the current state of rap, but mostly nostalgically and therapeutically reminiscing about his lifestyle growing up in Compton, California. Labeled as a short film on the cover, good kid, m.A.A.d City introduces various characters (“Sherane” on the opening track, Lamar’s parents through hilarious and poignant voicemails, and so on) and is incredibly effective in how it shapes an entire world of a disenfranchisement community, abound in poverty, violence, and all kinds of vice. It’s clearly a cathartic exercise for Lamar, who had to dodge vile temptation at every corner in order to become the artist he is. In that way the entire album is greater than the sum of its parts, and its parts are some of the greatest examples of modern hip-hip, so what does that tell you? Personal standouts include, “The Art of Peer Pressure,” “Money Trees,” “good kid,” and “m.A.A.d City,” but the biggest appeal of the album is between the lines; its complex structure that halves tracks to emphasize the duality of Lamar’s struggle, and the snippets and samples of various characters anchoring the narrative and thematic depth of the story. Supported with Lamar’s exceptional delivery and lyrical skill, and mature production values, good Kid, m.A.A.d City will likely remain one of the decade’s greatest examples of contemporary hip-hop. [Nik]

Fiona Apple – The Idler Wheel…

One of the most idiosyncratic, under-appreciated songwriters of our generation, Fiona Apple seems to love to keep us waiting—and waiting—and waiting for her to gift us with new batches of songs, which don’t come out frequently enough. She’s often said that, for her, writing is a necessity, an uncontrollable act that springs up when she’s accrued so much pent-up angst and hate and regret that she has no choice but to sit at the piano and empty out her mind and soul. Her career started nearly twenty years ago, and yet we’ve only been graced with four albums, her latest, The Idler Wheel… releasing in 2012 after a seven-year hiatus. Why does she torture us so?!

The reason her fans so rabidly await her work is that she’s really, really good at what she does. Not just good, but good in a way almost no one else working is. Her vocals are a study in controlled chaos, quivering when she’s sad, lilting when she’s happy, and insanely tense when she’s pissed off. Her lyrics are her main source of strength, streams of consciousness that are poetic and eloquent while also being bizarrely childish and impish as well. (Apple’s stated that she loves combing the dictionary for strange words to use in her songs.)

On The Idler Wheel…, Apple loosens up a bit after her gorgeous, streamlined third LP Extraordinary Machine, creating darker, more tumultuous soundscapes that harken back to the aggression and vinegar that informed her early work. The spectrum of emotion she plays with here is vast, though as per usual, the persistent theme is relationships-gone-south and the resulting ping-pong of feels. There’s some pretty disturbing stuff she deals with here, like in “Werewolf,” in which she talks about coaxing out the monstrous side of a lover who’s otherwise a great guy. On “Anything We Want,” she sings, “My scars were reflecting the mist in your headlights/I look like a neon zebra shakin’ rain off her stripes,” a perfect example of her ability to come up with lyrics that could have sprung from the mind of no one else. Even her piano chops, which were excellent even in the ‘90s, have evolved in a strange way. Take The Idler Wheel…’s fourth track, “Jonathan.” The almost discordant piano riff permeating the song is as stripped-down as it gets, a stupid simple sequence of notes and chords that, while easy to play, is ingenious in its conception. When the melody and lyrics come in and somehow blend perfectly with the left-field chord progression, Apple’s gift is on full display. [Bernard]

St. Vincent – St. Vincent

Annie Clark doesn’t seem to be showing any signs of tempering her artistic ambitions as her career as indie pop monarch St. Vincent continues to blossom. Her first two albums, Marry Me and Actor, were excellent collections of well crafted songs that appealed very directly to those with a taste for approachable art pop. Her third LP, Strange Mercy, took a step into noisier territory, draping abrasive electronic crackling and buzzing over her beautiful melodies and lyrics, which dealt with love in a bittersweet, almost mournful way. A goth-domestic theme bumped the ambitiousness of that album even higher. With her fourth, self-titled album, Clark pushes the envelope further than ever before, maintaining her pop appeal just barely. The crunchy, textured instrumentals she concocts with producer extraordinaire John Congleton sound like shattered digital glass over her beautiful, fuzzed-out vocals and technical guitar playing. Very much like Kendrick Lamar, Clarke is a music industry anomaly in that, as her albums get weirder and funkier and further out of line with convention, her sales get better and better. It’s an encouraging sign that the industry’s still got a beating heart underneath all the scrambling and panic over how to monetize this stuff.

Clarke is a goddamn wizard on the guitar, and she shreds harder and faster on this album than ever before. The driving lead single, “Birth in Reverse,” is an onslaught of catchy, nimble guitar riffs that slice through the air like a switch blade. “Digital Witness,” the subsequent single that has one of the coolest music videos ever, is a cautionary tale about the mesmerizing, indoctrinating effects of smart phones, television, and any other screen that fills our heads so completely we’ve got no room for anything else. “I want all of your mind!” she beckons in a voice that recalls the oddball characters Kate Bush plays on her records. On this track she leaves the axe on the stand, revisiting the punchy horn sounds she explored with David Byrne on their joint album, Love This Giant, to head-nodding effect. There seems to be a fascination with synthesizers and glitchy noises seeping into Clarke’s work more and more as she evolves as a musician and writer, and St. Vincent could very well be the peak of this stage in her artistic journey. It’s hard to imagine her work getting more out-of-this-world than this, but then again, St. Vincent never fails to surprise. [Bernard]

Kanye West – My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

Following Kanye West’s strange, successful auto-tune opus, 808’s and Heartbreak, he returned to his more aggressive, sample-crazy mode with My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, an ambitious, cinematic journey through the shadier side of his celebrity that’s arguably one of the top two albums in his discography. Crafting monstrous, symphonic beats with samples from King Crimson, Bon Iver, Aphex Twin and Smokey Robinson, West reached higher levels of drama and epic-ness than we’d seen from him before. His gift for manipulating samples to his whim, turning them into heightened, mutated versions of their former selves is astonishing, and on this album he excels maybe more than ever.

The album’s gurgling, white-hot centerpiece banger is “Monster,” a study in creep-out braggadocio featuring his ol’ buddy Jay-Z, Rick Ross, Justin Vernon, and Nicki Minaj, who blasts us in the face with some of the best bars of her career, surprisingly out-rapping everyone else on the track, including the almighty HOVA. John Legend and Chris Rock lend a hand in “Blame Game,” a meditation on spousal abuse, unrequited love and heartbreak, while the sonic fireworks show “All of the Lights” features a litany of guests, including Rihanna (in the most prominent singing role), Elton John, Kid Cudi, Fergie, John Legend, Alicia Keys, and more.

Back in 2010, embroiled in a firestorm of controversy that took its toll on his head, West conceived the album while on a head-clearing retreat to Hawaii as a reactionary piece to to the media’s coverage of his infamous outburst at the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards. Disgusted by his public crucifixion, he hit the studio and birthed this ungodly, effed-up collection of tracks that reminded everyone why we’ll probably never be rid of him: he makes undeniably dope-ass beats. Every track on the album works in tandem with the others to create a sonic collage that vividly depicts the mind of a man pushed to the edge, both creatively and psychologically. [Bernard]

Beach House – Teen Dream

Has an album ever sounded so devastating that you actually want to console its creators for the events that inspired it? Many albums might incite this reaction, but Teen Dream is the decade’s boldest, most penetrating example of such a collection. Melancholy, despair, and hopelessness absolutely flood out of this album; in an era full of heartbreaking, gut-wrenching music, Teen Dream may actually be the saddest album of recent times. It’s anything but melodramatic, though; rather than begging for pity and pining for attention, it paints vocalist Victoria Legrand’s ruin as universally relatable. It’s an incredible aid for powering through any emotionally wrangling situation, as the solemn beauty rushing from these songs tells their listeners that we’ll get through this together.

Teen Dream is the first album Beach House recorded for Sub Pop after two albums on smaller, but still quite reputable, label Carpark Records. The greater financial freedom and resources of their new label allowed Beach House to shatter the lo-fi sheen that had previously gathered them a cult following and rebuild themselves with gorgeous, shimmering production that built them into the indie rock staple they are today. The breathtaking slide guitars and torch-song vocals of “Silver Soul” burst forward thanks to the barriers of Beach House’s newly slick recording style; the crystalline, high-stakes piano of penultimate “Real Love” gain substantial power due to the drastically increased fidelity. The more focused, precise production enables “Zebra” to remain Beach House’s most adored song in 2015, but deeper cut “10 Mile Stereo” remains the duo’s home run. If the impassioned exhausted vocal delivery, cautiously enveloping synths, tearfully galloping guitar line, and song-long upward surge doesn’t do the trick, just read this one lyric: “Limbs parallel/we stood so long we fell.” It’s perhaps the album’s most heartbreaking line, but there are myriad contenders for second place. Teen Dream is rife with potent poetry; it’s downright one of the most emotionally wrecking collections of music ever recorded. [Max]

LCD Soundsystem – This Is Happening

In the previous decade, LCD Soundsystem was regarded as the paragon of clever, metropolitan dance-punk, but it wasn’t until 2010 that “dark” and its countless cousin words entered the conversation. This Is Happening, James Murphy and Co.’s final album, puts extra effort into sounding far more brooding than the two albums that preceded it, and it succeeds wildly in this pursuit. The nine songs comprising the album often forgo LCD Soundsystem’s notoriously zany, kraut-like chants (well, except on “Pow Pow” and “Drunk Girls,” the album’s two weakest songs) in favor of moodier anthemics, resulting in desperate dancefloor hits such as “I Can Change” and nightmarish jerks along the lines of “One Touch.” But it’s not all pure bleakness; “All I Want” emerges as one of the album’s most memorable songs thanks to the almost obnoxious wail and slight lag of its screaming lead guitars. That’s not to say this song isn’t bitter; in this instance, Murphy sounds despondent rather than outright scary.

These polar extremes—the desolate state of “All I Want” and the crunching horror of “One Touch”—bookend This Is Happening, supporting it on two sides with supremely strong songs. Opener “Dance Yourself Clean” redefines what it means to jolt listeners out of their seats, and establishes the more incisively ominous tone the album tends to take. Final song “Home” (by extension, also the final song of LCD Soundsystem’s career) reimagines career arc “All My Friends” as a somewhat more lethargic, introspective tear-jerker about leaving the past behind. Each of these approaches is equally affecting, and both ditch the often frantically joyed states of past releases, resulting in a powerful final document from one of the 2000s’ best-respected acts. [Max]

Arcade Fire – The Suburbs

In 2013, many Arcade Fire fans complained about the drastic sonic changes the band undertook with fourth album Reflektor, but this grievance ignores that Arcade Fire have been chameleonic from their conception. The Suburbs, Arcade Fire’s third album, follows the sullen hymns of Neon Bible and the vital, high-stakes Funeral, two albums completely distinct in sound. As with any Arcade Fire album, it diverges from the band’s previous output on the surface, but maintains the universally resonant vocal harmonies and strikingly relatable lyrics of what came before. In fact, The Suburbs, as its super specific title suggests, stands out from Arcade Fire’s thoroughly incredible discography as perhaps their most lyrically impressive, tying the band members’ suburban childhood to the poignant emotions of nostalgia, glee, and despair.

The key to The Suburbs’ appeal is that one need not come from a suburban background to enjoy it. The band has stated that the album neither supports nor denounces the suburbs; what they’ve never said, but what’s quite obvious from listening, is that the suburbs merely frame this album’s universal experiences. “Ready to Start” recalls high school anxiety and romance; the exuberant “Empty Room” relishes letting your guard down and getting in touch with your feelings; woeful “Suburban War” explores the anguish of growing apart from childhood friends; sprightly synthpop (!!!) jam “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)” recalls the restlessness of teenage years. Emphasizing the resonance of these widely sympathizable instances are some of the most straightforward instrumentals Arcade Fire has ever committed to record. The ostentatious, bold orchestral rush of Funeral has its time and place, as does the weighty, almost holy Neon Bible, but The Suburbs’ move towards more familiar rock stylings holds the most widely appealing songs of the band’s career. It may have once felt impossible for Arcade Fire to be responsible for songs as straightforwardly everyman-like and stable as “We Used to Wait,” but The Suburbs is rife with such simple and powerful moments. In transforming one lifestyle to a universally human experience, Arcade Fire have gifted listeners with a truly wonderful collection. [Max]

Run the Jewels – Run the Jewels 2

The best rap duo on this planet prove once again why they’re the best with their second studio album, Run The Jewels 2. They’re so good that they don’t even need a real album title, which is of course the greatest thing about Killer Mike and El-P; their simple approach to the art of hip-hop. No fancy dressing, no intellectual pretense, just raw and undiluted rap, two guys spitting about the way they see the world around them. Augmented by El-P’s immense and brooding productions, full of ominous beats and absurdly catchy samples, the duo’s dynamite chemistry takes center stage once again. Take a particular exchange from the pessimistically titled “Close Your Eyes (And Count To Fuck),” when El finishes off his verse with, “No shitting you, little buddy, this fuckin’ island’s a prison/The only solace I have is the act of conjugal visitin” and Mike takes over with “My solitary condition’s preventin’ conjugal visits/Though mainly missin’ my missus, they keepin’ me from my children/Conditions create a villain, the villain is given vision” and on he goes, killing it with alliteration and violent imagery. Think of how 99% of rappers out there have at least one slow love ballad that’s more akin to R&B than rap, and then play Run The Jewels’ version of that, the profanity-laced “Love Again,” brimming with macho confidence and alpha male aggression. Certainly not for the faint of heart, nor the easily offended, RTJ 2 builds on the group’s successful debut album and creates something with irreverent force and biting commentary, every track essential for the overall deconstructive power of the album. The duo paint a harsh, cynical, picture of the America they live in, but if it’s inspiring this kind of artistry, it can’t be all that bad, can it? [Nik]

Kanye West – Yeezus

“Yeezy season approachin’/fuck whatever y’all been hearin’/fuck whatever y’all been wearin’/a monster about to come alive again.”

These are the first lyrics we hear on Yeezus, the sixth and most recent album from one of the most restless, creative, outspoken minds to ever exist within hip-hop’s framework (or the framework of all music ever, really). These first words’ promise is delivered upon: Yeezus is a savage beast, showing Kanye at his most irreverent, angry, and combative. West pulls a complete 180 on this album in every way. Compared to his previous albums, it’s ridiculously short, much less lush and finely detailed, far more abrasive, scathing, and industrial-influenced. This is still the one and only Kanye West though; despite Yeezus hosting some of his most inane lyrics to date (“Eating Asian pussy, all I need was sweet and sour sauce” is actually a line on this album), West’s ego and striking political stances remain clearly and viciously in focus. With Ye’s character shining through these unprecedentedly heavy, pummeling songs, they sound revolutionary, controversial, and incendiary, and have proven to be so within hip-hop music in the not quite two years since the album’s release.

Before Yeezus, Death Grips was the decade’s only act dividing the hip-hop community in a debate about the merit of noise, confrontation, and pure bile in rap music. Since Yeezus, so many rappers have felt the power that melding industrial doom with hip-hop groove can have. Tyler, the Creator’s Cherry Bomb is only the most recent of the new wave of hip-hop albums attempting to recreate the hallowed, terrifying glory that Yeezus delivered upon its arrival. Sure, aggression and political revolution have been vital themes of hip-hop for a long time, but here we have Ye literally screaming in revolt on “New Slaves” both for himself and for the entire black community, and we also bear witness to a track called “I Am a God” on an album whose title is a Jesus pun. The former track is essential: Public Enemy probably feels intense pride in Ye’s takedown of the prison-industrial system on this song, which employs some of the most blaring, ear-shattering percussion that hip-hop has ever heard. Its lyrics loudly rebel against institutional racism, as does “Black Skinhead,” another one of Yeezus’ most blatantly cacophonous songs.

Yeezus is incredibly dissonant and raucous for a hip-hop album, a fitting sound for its often political nature. Hell, even when this album isn’t political, it’s political. “Blood on the Leaves” narrates the hell of divorce proceedings, seemingly not a political topic, except that the song is built from a sample of Nina Simone’s take on anti-lynching classic “Strange Fruit.” “Black bodies/swingin’ in the summer breeze” is woven into the very essence of this track, which brilliantly constructs a club banger from a pre-civil rights movement protest song. Forget convention, forget tradition; this is the point of Yeezus both lyrically and musically, except on final track “Bound 2,” which was probably placed last on the album deliberately. It’s a throwback that unexpectedly recalls debut The College Dropout with its pitch-shifted soul samples and soulful production, yet it still feels padded with the risk and boldness pervading Yeezus. Kanye may be making some of hip-hop’s widest strides forward, but he still hasn’t forgotten where he came from. Hopefully none of Yeezus’ many followers ignore the path Yeezy took to get here. [Max]

See the rest of our Best Albums Of The Decade lists!

View Previous Sections of the List:
Best 50 Albums of the Decade So Far (#50 – #41)
Best 50 Albums of the Decade So Far (#40 – #31)
Best 50 Albums of the Decade So Far (#30 – #21)
Best 50 Albums of the Decade So Far (#20 – #11)

Our countdown of our favorite songs of this decade’s first five years continues today with contributions from a band of three trendy sisters, an aggressively political hip-hop duo, and a member of the queer rap community, among others. The diversity of these ten songs alone (and, of course, the entire list) attests to the breadth of excellent songs released in this time span. Topics as classic as unrequited love and inconsolable heartbreak are explored abundantly in this group of songs, but we also hear more modern themes such as homophobia and being proud of, and confident in, one’s sexuality. In 2000-2009, society might have stricken down these ideas and sounds as too far ahead of their time, but in this decade, they’re among the cream of the crop.

Best 50 Songs Of The Decade So Far
(#40 – #31)

HAIM – “The Wire”

With its jaunty staccato grove, stomping chorus and ‘70s radio rock vibe, HAIM’s “The Wire” is one of those rare pop songs where every section is catchy as hell, not just the chorus, á la Rihanna’s “Umbrella” and Miley Cyrus’ “Wrecking Ball.” If you’ve ever tried to write a song, you know how hard it is to write a catchy hook, let alone make every second of the song irresistible, which is what HAIM’s done here, amazingly. The instrumentals and break-up lyrics are straightforward because the three sisters from California know the song’s melodies deserve their own pedestal without much fuss going on underneath. As always, the vocals are supple and effortless, with just the right amount of attitude sprinkled on when appropriate. [Bernard]

Le1f – “Wut”

Homophobia has been a large issue with rap music, one that’s taking the tiniest baby steps towards progress (remember: Frank Ocean’s coming out was seen as a milestone, and that was less than three years ago). And while some are delicately approaching the acceptance of homosexuality in rap culture and music, Le1f is taking a sledgehammer to it. An openly gay rapper, Le1f has no worries about being himself, and “Wut” is one hell of a bold declaration. Sexual orientation has no baring on the fact that “Wut” is an amazing rap song. With production by 5kinAndBone5, Le1f throws down a jaw-dropping flow (that second verse!) over a horn sample that puts Macklemore & Ryan Lewis’ “Thrift Shop” to shame. Combine it with an awesomely in your face music video, and this is insanely good music from a truly progressive artist. [C.J.]

John Grant – “I Want to Go to Marz”

The fact of the matter is that The Czars never got the attention they deserved. Formed in Denver, CO by John Grant and Chris Pearson, The Czars released six albums and an EP over the course of nine years, only to have all of the members besides Grant exit. For a time this left the depressed and alienated Grant contemplating giving up music. But thankfully for us, he didn’t, and instead he released one of the most incredibly genuine and satisfying solo albums (Queen Of Denmark) of the first half of the decade, and on it, one of the finest songs in recent memory, “I Want To Go To Marz.”

The 2010 song is a triumphant example of a 1970s throw back. The circling piano melody, the sometimes-unnerving synth, and the hauntingly and seemingly random lyrics make this song impossible to forget. Grant’s smooth voice on “Marz” (and elsewhere) lulls you into a catatonic state, makes you dizzy with heartbreaking metaphors of escape, longing, and a maybe, just maybe, a hint of hope. [Gary]

Makthaverskan – “Asleep”

On “Asleep,” Makthaverskan’s sadness is almost tangible. The cold, enveloping reverb of those opening drums; the wet, aching, minor-key guitar chords; the melancholy, tearful bass line; the pessimistic, heart-wrenching synths; Maja Milner’s desolate, wistful vocals. Appearing in this order, the song’s relatively small amount of elements combine into a Gothic, new wave-indebted torch song of despair and heartbreak. Particularly notable are Milner’s vocals and lyrics. A non-native English speaker whose lyrics are more direct than most American songwriters, her voice’s ability to switch from a soft, faint croon to a piercing, pained shriek in a second’s notice is impeccable. She sounds particularly incisive over the double-time drums of the song’s bridge: “You’re dreaming!” she chimes, although this is merely a sliver of the song’s mantra, “It’s not me you’re dreaming of!” But with songs this immediate, how could it not be? [Max]

The Irrepressibles – “In This Shirt”

The Irrepressibles are a band that’s all about emotions. Created and led by Jamie McDermott (who now calls himself Jamie Irrepressible), the band makes songs that fit the name perfectly; songs about emotions that can’t be contained. “In This Shirt” is a simple break-up song about someone wearing their ex-lover’s shirt for comfort, and yet the song is tragically operatic. That’s because the band understands how those kinds of feelings can overwhelm an individual, and make the smallest action feel like it has the weight of the world. It’s one of The Irrepressibles’ best songs because of how it feels sprawling yet intensely personal at the same time. Also worth mentioning: Roy Raz’s brilliant and unforgettable music video for the song. [C.J.]

Jessie Ware – “Wildest Moments”

For everyone who agrees that Adele has a great voice but find something off in the way she uses it, meet Jessie Ware. The 30-year-old British singer-songwriter has two albums under her belt already in this decade, and her debut Devotion soars mostly because of its first single and, to this day, Ware’s most readily recognized song: “Wildest Moments.” The song allows Ware’s earthy, melancholic, and semi-mystical intonations to gently persuade the listener towards its instantly epochal yet timeless chorus. The emotional seesaw from the highs of life when “we could be the greatest, we could be the greatest” to when “we could be the worst of all,” is made all the more hypnotic by how Ware lingers on the key word “moments,” making it resonate that much stronger. Even if it’s destined to be ruined by drunk teenagers in karaoke bars, “Wildest Moments” will always be a fantastic song, and one thing that makes me love it even more is that it was inspired by Ware’s fraught relationship with her best friend, (as opposed to the usual tale of the scorned lover), while the song’s open-ended lyrics leave room for a myriad of universal interpretations. [Nik]

Run the Jewels – “Oh My Darling Don’t Cry”

Full disclosure guys, this single from the second album of EI-P and Killer Mike’s collaboration project Run The Jewels is in my personal top five songs of the decade so far. I have to put aside the bitterness that’s bubbling inside me at seeing “Oh My Darling Don’t Cry” placed in the 30’s and not the 10’s of this list (breathe, Nik, remember that it’s a staff feature), and try to put into words how immortally sick this track is. From Killer Mike and EI-P’s explosive chemistry, through the samples of whips, cut-up drum loops, subdued alarms, and that brilliantly mixed sample of “Darling-d-d-darling/dar-dar-dar-d-ling,” making dance floors vulnerable to total destruction every time it drops, ‘Darling’ encapsulates everything that makes this duo such trailblazers of underground hip-hop. “Me and EI-P got time to kill, got folks to kill, on overkill/He hangin’ out the window, I hold the wheel” explains Mike, as EI-P’s murderous production (helped by Little Shalimar and Wilder Zoby) confirms everything he says. They retain the raw essence of hip-hop with incredibly inventive, electronic, and dubby productions, and for my money, make spotlight-hoggers like Kanye West look silly in comparison. [Nik]

Perfume Genius – “Queen”

A low, buzzing keyboard pulses, an elemental, lumbering drum beat, and shimmering, soaring synths lay the groundwork for “Queen,” the lead single off of Perfume Genius’ 2014 album, “Too Bright.” Strutting through the instrumentation with his tense, tortured vocal delivery is Mike Hadreas, who in his lyrics embodies a sociopathic, oppressive, shriveled matriarch who fancies herself a sexual predator. It’s been a pleasure to watch Hadreas expand his game, forgoing the dirge-like piano ballads that put him on the map to experiment with full instrumentation. “Queen” is emblematic of his growth as a songwriter, a creepy, glitzy nightmare that slays all in its path. Now we’re left waiting in a sweat to see what rare sonic confections he’ll have waiting for us on his next album. [Bernard]

Autre Ne Veut – “Play by Play”

“Never leave me” is a phrase heard time and time again in all manner of pop songs, but on “Play by Play,” Arthur Ashin, while posing in equal amounts of disco and soul as Autre Ne Veut, sells this phrase with the strength of the King of Pop. The way Ashin’s vocals deal striking blows and waver between the highs and lows of his vocal range over a constantly shifting, hyperactive arrangement of synthetic elements recalls Michael Jackson at his prime, possibly more so than anyone since him. Ashin’s desperate lyricism is delivered in angelic falsettos, seething raps, and extended wails; his vocals bend and adapt to the unpredictable, cerebral shifts in instrumentation that outline this song. Synths fade in and out of vision over merely a few seconds; percussive tracks expand and contract in real-time. Maybe Ashin’s character here is well worth leaving, but the music is almost unrealistically entrapping. [Max]

Fiona Apple – “Hot Knife”

It’s always a treat when Fiona Apple drops new music on her army of hungry fanatics (of which I belong) since she releases albums so infrequently. The ridiculously gifted singer-songwriter never disappoints, though, and her 2012 offering “The Idler Wheel…” was nothing short of a revelation. The crowning jewel of the stripped-down collection of lovesick tunes is “Hot Knife,” an empowered, primal track in which immaculately layered chants by Apple and her sister, Maude Maggart, weave and spin around each other over distant, rumbling war drums and Apple’s signature angular piano rifts. It feels as if you’re tied up and blindfolded in a vacuum of space and time, with Apple and Maggart circling you as they sing right into your ear, “if I’m butter than he’s a hot knife / he makes my heart a cinemascope screen / showing the dancing bird of paradise.” Who else could write this shit? [Bernard]

Listen to These Songs on Spotify

See the rest of our Best Songs Of The Decade lists!

View Other Lists of this Feature:
Best 50 Songs of the Decade So Far (#50 – #41)
Best 50 Songs of the Decade So Far (#30 – #21)
Best 50 Songs of the Decade So Far (#20 – #11)
Best 50 Songs of the Decade So Far (#10 – #1)

In a year filled with world politics and tragedies, it’s only fitting triumph was a common theme found in music during 2014. For every senseless crime, there was a gratifying album in direct response to it. Those seeking self-love and acceptance found comfort in the arms of Perfume Genius and Jack White. Those looking for poignant social commentary discovered it through the words of Run The Jewels. Moreover, those who yearned for isolation found solace in Angel Olsen’s latest album. In between all of that were three career defining releases from St. Vincent, The War on Drugs, and FKA Twigs. Our list highlights 20 albums that are all pleasing distractions during this time of uncertainty.

Way Too Indie’s Best Albums of 2014

#20 Ty Segall – Manipulator

Manipulator is a wormhole consisting of atoms that are charged from the past and atoms reinterpreted for the present. Manipulator is a murky mix that only a producing maniac like Ty Segall could release. Ty has a deep discography that would take weeks to dissect, yet he is only 26. If Jack White is the hardest working man in rock music, then Ty must be his crazy stepbrother. This isn’t your father’s rock and roll or the 90’s Nirvana off shoot band your brother started in high school. Manipulator is a fast, grimy, blazing sound that embodies everything Ty has been working towards. This album truly sounds like an artist who cannot foresee not putting out his creations. Vacuumed in an airtight room, the album kicks off with the title track. It rides under an overcast and fuzzy sky of its influences where the drums, guitars, and Ty all squeal.

This album is a cornucopia that has been reshaped with sounds spanning different genres. At the same time, Manipulator also feels personal. “The Clock” tackles the burning desire of an artist who sees time as a small window for creativity and output; “The Singer” is a tale of how fans sometimes fail to appreciate the showmanship of art because they always want more. The theatrical highlights include “Tall Man Skinny Lady” and “It’s Over.” Manipulator floats on a hazy comfortable horizon. It delivers some truths and mounts Ty as the brightest student from the rock and roll school of thought. [Sami]

#19 Alex G – DSU

DSU is a strong poetic beauty. Alex G humanizes various tidal waves of emotions in a category that manages to leap outside the boundaries of dream pop and lo-fi. Sharp and short whimsical flavors structure this full-length, as Alex sounds about as wise as your father. It’s refreshing to encounter a project from a youthful songwriter who writes in a succinct and ageless voice. The lyrics are surrounded by familiar sounds that contain their own quirks and riffs. Alex G is a serious songwriter; his sound is vibrant with or without its influencers. DSU feels sensible, but a closer look reveals an adolescent façade. It’s a lush garden of prosperous lyrical landscapes. The dream-chasing “Harvey” is an ornament for anyone working towards something special. Even with a short life span, “Harvey” manages to induct pleasant-sounding grooves and proves to be Alex G at his best.

There are many other standouts. “Promise” is an eclectic mix of funky drowning sounds lost in a dreamland. The dense drums intersect to produce a sweet aural hallucination. Dazzling instrumentals also create a nice contrast to the dim lyrics of “Hollow”, where Alex kicks this track into a smooth four minutes. In just this short time, the ambiance goes from a grunge essence to something trance and then to something tame. “Boy” is a gem. “I am not the boy you knew”, Alex vows in this coming of age song. It’s quaint and ends with a grand piano. From the deeply emotive “Sorry” to the last track “Boy”, much of what Alex G accomplishes creates a desire for his next move. [Sami]

#18 White Lung – Deep Fantasy

There are EPs longer than this album, yet here it is on the list. Deep Fantasy is actually pretty shallow in terms of its lengths; where the depth appears is in the low-pitch, rapid guitars, militant percussion, devilish shrieking, and harrowing lyricism. Guitarist Kenneth William hits virtually every guitar note possible throughout this album, Anne-Marie Vassiliou storms the field with her steadfast drumming, and vocalist Mish Way ignites the fire burning in front of these songs. Her lyrics, which balance the personal and the political, provide the true fuel for the flames: check the eating disorder study “Snake Jaw” and the ailing sexual assault victim anthem “I Believe You” for proof. The latter track is a pretty succinct summary of Deep Fantasy’s unique flicker: listen to the passion with which Way consoles her friend that, despite the constant social and institutional tendency to doubt or dismiss rape claims, she wholly trusts her friend and encourages her to stay strong and fight for justice. The assertiveness of this stance is brashly echoed by her band’s hyperactive, harsh punk and her searing beckon, a combination that pervades this 22-minute Fantasy. [Max]

#17 MØ – No Mythologies to Follow

Possessing pop versatility is a true art that took MØ only one album to achieve. No Mythologies to Follow is a cohesive, ironic blend with a touch of mainstream sensibilities. MØ translates to virgin or maiden in Danish, but this album never alludes to its freshman status. At her very best, MØ’s formula for success is undressed and unedited. Many layers of synths, vibrant bass, thick, clashing drums, and the sweet influences of electronic music fuse neatly. There’s a satisfying mixture of accessible sounds combined with her own independent quirks. “Glass” doesn’t play coy and quickly drops the line, “Oh dear one turn the lights off/So our horny souls can have some private time.” It’s a whirlwind of pleasing tones mixed with tempting drums and disdained lyrics about growing older. Most songs are a heavy packet filled with a very zealous workload. That’s not such a bad thing when she creates tracks like “Maiden” that have waves of surging synths that transport listeners with her delicate and mystical voice. “Pilgrim” features running horns coated against clunky and infectious claps. No Mythologies to Follow is a welcomed aggregation of sounds that positions MØ towards pop star status. [Sami]

#16 TEEN – The Way and Color

“It’s so not personal” is the first phrase heard in TEEN’s “Not for Long”, the second track from their sophomore album The Way and Color. The irony here is that, well, the songs here are pretty damn personal. “Sticky”, for example, contemplates the spectrum of consequences that accompany an abortion; “Breathe Low and Deep” portrays a defeated narrator doing her best to cope. The weight of these stories might explain the major leap in songwriting from TEEN’s past work too. The same band once hauntingly distant from listeners on their debut now engage the ears with excellent vocal harmonies, flowing melodies, ominous psychedelia, and dreamy ambience. Whether via a groovy, uptempo escapade like “Tied Up Tied Down” or a more introspective stance as on “More Than I Ask For”, TEEN’s new compositional advancements consistently result in entrapping, gorgeous, afflicting psych pop. And all of this is obvious even before catching them in concert, a tremendous live show which seems to have gone overlooked by the community at large. At this rate, though, not for long. [Max]

#15 Real Estate – Atlas

There’s nothing idyllic to see here. Atlas is not a roadmap towards sunny waters. This album is a chamber of deep isolation that is thoughtfully constructed. At every corner, it is constantly reaching out for answers, as seen through relatable human emotions. Soft and clean guitars are still present as the band hands out a chronological guide. It’s easy to view this collection of songs as a series of inevitable events. It’s simple and timeless as Real Estate ventures to the past. The guitars and drums are so soft that they feel like a warm blanket of pillows. When they sing about going back to an unrecognizable hometown years later, you feel it. When they sing about a long distance relationship, you understand it. There’s a sad and poignant moment on the record where lead singer Martin Courtney, wonders if his words are resonating with whoever he is speaking to. “And I might as well be talking backwards/Am I making any sense to you?” he says in a melancholy voice supported by charming and sunlit instruments. Often these songs offer glimpse into the heart of someone searching for something tangible. Atlas is all encompassing journey for anyone who has ever faced an existential crisis about love or life. [Sami]

#14 Mitski – Bury Me at Make Out Creek

If this list were based purely on lyrics, Bury Me at Make Out Creek might be #1. Mitski Miyawaki wastes not a single breath, each and every word she utters as haunting and evocative as her newly intense, overwhelming instrumentals. “You’re the breeze in my Austin nights”, “I want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony”, “One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I’m on, baby”, and “I don’t smoke except for when I’m missing you/to remember your mouth, how you tasted true” are only the most startling of the countless melting turns of phrase present here. These words are often accompanied with little more than a static, fragmented wall of guitar fuzz and unsettling drum machines, yet impact with the magnitude of a musical army. On the other hand, Make Out Creek is also full of sparser moments, but these are equally powerful. The almost violent guitar punch defining the latter half of opener “Texas Reznikoff” is just as heartbreaking as the spacious, steely dirge of “I Will.” This latter track may initially seem like the one song here on which Mitski has conquered her loneliness, but it’s actually a summary of what she wishes someone would say to her. If that’s not both tremendously upsetting and eerily beautiful, as is the entirety of Make Out Creek, then nothing is. [Max]

#13 Jack White – Lazaretto

Jack White is an Etch-A-Sketch. Categories, genres, and preconceived notions don’t apply here. His first solo album, Blunderbuss, was an aggregation of fire, electricity, and passion. Naturally, we all expected Lazaretto to be the fast spitting fire ball of energy that Blunderbuss was. When the lead single “Lazaretto” first dropped, the hip hop elements synced perfectly with his electrically charged vocals. Ultimately, Lazaretto set a precedent that no two Jack White projects will ever be the same. The album was inspired by a collection of poems and short stories that were written by Jack when he was a teenager. Those poems and stories served as the source materials for each song. Unbounded by his inspirations, Jack still inhibits his usual buoyancies and daze. The solely instrumental “High Ball Stepper” is an animated and lively track that serenades until the very end. It encompasses different densities and textures as Jack sweeps around different tints and shades. Quaint bluesy qualities are featured on the song “Entitlement”, while “Temporary Ground ” feels very Nashville. Lazaretto is an interesting Jack White album because it feels very bombastic and also tamed. It is consistently inconsistent. It is a melting pot. [Sami]

#12 Caribou – Our Love

In 2010, Caribou’s best song up to that point in his career, “Odessa”, placed him as the fly on the wall of a constantly fighting couple’s bedroom. Although vocalist and songwriter Dan Snaith expressed proper sympathy towards the relationship’s victimized female, he never offered any solutions for her to escape her pitiable state. On Our Love, his first album since then, he still doesn’t seem to have any answers, but he’s now writing from a first person perspective rather than an outsider’s point of view. First track “Can’t Do Without You” bemoans Snaith’s loss of a lover rather than proposing any method to get her back, and it’s not much longer before “All I Ever Need” is simply another list of woes. No complaints, though; if these troubles are leading to songs as cosmic, smooth, and hallucinogenic as these electronic jams, then let’s hope Snaith’s problems dissipate via some external force rather than his own resolution. Our Love is overflowing with gorgeous, colorful synth work that’s as entrancing as it is mobile. The title track is simultaneously warm and danceable, and “Mars” puts some serious swing into its trippy prettiness. The influence of R&B and deep house, novel informers for Caribou, account for Snaith’s newfound ability to merge the psychedelic, the heartfelt, and the body-moving. Check penultimate track “Back Home” as the strongest example of Our Love’s brilliant approach: a slowly bubbling piece of mind-melting R&B that ascends from ghostly vibrations into head-thumping wispiness, it’s the peak of a formula that consistently entrances across Our Love’s ten whole songs. [Max]

#11 Tennis – Ritual in Repeat

Nostalgia can be a knife in the back or a prosperous recalling. Tennis’ Ritual in Repeat is a testament to the latter. This husband and wife duo formulates a more grandiose and powerful record that both emulates the past and presents their own swatches of sounds. Rather than drowning in their influences, Tennis manages to bounce from decade to decade smoothly.
The roller skate jam “I’m Callin” sounds like an early 90s Celine Dion track that got stuck at an 80s dance party. There’s a noticeable dichotomy that latches onto this album. Stripped away and running free is when Alaina Moore’s voice is most exposed and empowering. However, this record also contains tracks that evoke a singalong jam band aura. More specifically, “Needle and The Knife” easily permeates through the track list with its tightly coupled percussion and string instrumentals. Ritual in Repeat marks the creation of their own wanderlust persona. Tennis avoids circles and stigmas by delivering one of the most likable records of the year. [Sami]

#10 Run the Jewels – Run the Jewels 2

“I’m finna bang this bitch the fuck out!” says a nuclear Killer Mike. The next three minutes are the beginning of a fueling atomic bomb. Run the Jewels 2 is an action-packed, pressure-pointing push against the chest, as Killer Mike and El-P instantaneously huff audacious lines. Towering over pompous beats, the duo creates stacks and layers that have contrasting tension. RTJ2 is a bombastic social commentary with strong meaning. The kinetic energy is high as Killer Mike aggressively asks for rival gangs to unite and El-P testifies that the court system is out of order. They take you down deep and brazen tunnels with lyrical traps like “You know your favorite rapper ain’t shit/And me, I might be/The closest representation of God you might see.” RTJ2 is still a captivating, fun time. “Close Your Eyes (And Count To Fuck)” is a nuclear power plant that generates invigorating energy. There’s a sharp chemistry between the duo that doesn’t feel calculated. At times, Killer Miller sets the stage for the main action, and El-P smoothly completes the cause. RTJ2 burns your skin, injects some social topics, and delivers a great time. [Sami]

#9 Makthaverskan – II

These five young Swedes use the English language better than many native speakers do. Where many of today’s best musicians get by on poetic, extravagant lyricism, Makthaverskan instead use the most elementary of words and images to achieve emotional resonance. The cries of “Fuck you! Fuck you!” that pin down “Antabus” could easily originate from the mouth of a histrionic teenager rather than these heavy-hearted 20-something-year-olds, and the piercing despair of “I don’t know where you are tonight, but if you want I’ll take you back” that grounds the chorus of “Something More” could fit inconspicuously on a pop punk record. Rather than obfuscating their pleas with dense wordplay, Makthaverskan can afford to be this upfront since their delivery is so genuine. “It’s not me you’re dreaming of!” might sound whiny and immature in worse hands, but Maja Milner’s urgency and her band’s Goth-drenched, new wave-indebted instrumentals ensure that these words land as potent daggers rather than as ignorable pouting. Makthaverskan’s cocktail of direct, heartfelt singing, dreamy, gorgeous, incisive instrumentation, and straightforward lyricism aren’t new in name, but rarely have they been combined so grippingly. [Max]

#8 Ava Luna – Electric Balloon

Brooklyn’s Ava Luna are the precise sum of a few very well known musical kooks (Deerhoof, Pixies, Dirty Projectors), yet have a fanbase that’s merely the size of their underground friends and soundalikes Krill (who, unrelated, are set to release one of next year’s best albums). Their mastery lies in their ability to spin the idiosyncrasies of their popular influences into a sound that’s uniquely theirs despite its obvious forebears, so why aren’t more people listening? Almost everyone who enjoys the music of their influences is bound to enjoy them, but few have discovered the flavorful gem known to the world as Electric Balloon.

Give it time, though. More listeners are bound to stumble upon this wonderful, jagged, soulful, experimental rock group; it’s inevitable with tunes this distinct and dissimilar. What other band could include a stuttered, manic punk barker like “Daydream” on the same record as the yelpy, teasing funk strut of “Sears Roebuck M&Ms” and make them sound like the same artist’s vision? Better yet, how many groups could place these two songs back to back and make them flow as though nothing about each is different? Maybe the same musicians capable of the stop-and-start fury and quiet of album highlight “Plain Speech” could. Clearly, Electric Balloon is a wacky, diverse collection – the flamenco-like “Aquarium” precedes the earnest, gleaming comedown of “PRPL” – and fans of the unhinged will flock to it in due time. [Max]

#7 Cloud Nothings – Here and Nowhere Else

On Cloud Nothings’ 2012 breakout Attack on Memory, songwriter and vocalist Dylan Baldi was furious about his dejection, resulting in eight harrowing post-punk gems that turned heads and attracted new fans. Two years later, Here and Nowhere Else shows Baldi finding the silver lining in his woes rather than just complaining about them. The album conveys that the new, more mature Baldi acknowledges his troubles, finds solutions to them, and successfully executes these strategies. This evolution results in a somewhat brighter, more developed sound, although the album is still consistently dark and noisy.

The mild reinvention of Cloud Nothings’ sound is evident the moment the album starts. “Now Hear In”, the opening track, begins with a traditional power chord riff that’s only barely overdriven, as compared to the scathing distortion of Attack on Memory tunes such as “Wasted Days” and “Our Plans.” The lyrics that soon follow contain a sliver of optimism previously unheard in Cloud Nothings’ work. “No use remembering how it used to be serene/And I can’t feel your pain and I feel alright ‘bout it,” Baldi muses about a failed past relationship, choosing to move on rather than drown in his self-pity. “You don’t really seem to care, and/I don’t even talk about it” from “No Thoughts” later echoes this sentiment, one which pops up constantly throughout the album.

Of course, we’re talking about Cloud Nothings here; even with a brighter mindset, Baldi knows he’s best capable of expressing emotions through noise, and there’s no absence of it here. His constant tightrope walk between lyrical positivity and angry noise dictates Here and Nowhere Else’s success; check the ascension from faintly sunny, clearly sung garage punk to sweltering noise barrages on tracks like “Psychic Trauma”, “Just See Fear”, and “No Thoughts” as proof. There’s no shortage of explosive, frantic drumming on these songs either, so it’s interesting that final track “I’m Not Part of Me”, which contains only the poppiest elements of this album, tends to be its best regarded. Maybe this acclaim stems from its bold statement of the album’s thesis: “I’m not telling you all I’m going through/I feel fine,” declares Baldi, and his confidence and hopefulness embody his latest masterpiece. [Max]

#6 The War on Drugs – Lost in the Dream

Lost in the Dream is the kind of treasure you hope to find in your grandparent’s attic. Adam Granduciel knows how to craft transatlantic gems. Each song feels like its own climatic mini-series. The craftsmanship that was put into this album was very labor intensive in the way that it feels like hurt, despair, confusion, pressure, love, and triumphance are all pillars that construct this album. In order to write songs like, “Under the Pressure, Granduciel had to experience the loss of both love and his identity. Consequently, Lost in the Dream is the rebirth of a resilient soul. As album opener, “Under the Pressure” is a slow-moving master and a victorious ride. At the end of the track, Granduciel manages to crack that, “Well I’m surviving, under the pressure.” This propels an emotional voyage.

Granduciel recreates his stories for a timeless journey. A picturesque dystopian vibe lends its hands to “Suffering” as he wonders about the destruction of his relationship. “Suffering” is the kind of heartbreaking trip that leads to the creation of conquering jams such as “Under the Pressure.” Its slinky guitars offer a comforting ride. The passionate lyrical content makes it possible for most songs on the album to be about five minutes long. No song on the album exemplifies an aching and healing heart as well as “Eyes To The Wind.” This song represents the part of the movie where the main character finds the strength to start moving on. A zoned out saxophone compliments the triumphant atmosphere. Elsewhere, the title track hits like a ton of bricks lyrically. When Granduciel sings, “Lost in the dream, or just the silence of a moment/It’s always hard to tell, down in the way they cut it open and they sold it/It’s always hard to tell”, it becomes so easy to view life and love as an unwinnable game. However, even Granduciel doesn’t mind losing, because he now acknowledges that loss is just a necessary pre-arranged fragment of his life.

It is fitting that “In Reverse” was the last song written, and is appropriately the last song on the record. It recalls important phrases and sounds from most of its predecessors. “In Reverse” is a self-awakening feat that takes months to discover. Ultimately, many will call on Tom Petty or Bob Dylan as obvious influencers, but Lost in the Dream is the setting stone that the band needed to blow away all that chatter. This album is an epic Americana journey that chronicles a lost soul who completely finds the strength to refocus on his dreams and self again. [Sami]

#5 Perfume Genius – Too Bright

No one uses pain as a muse better than Perfume Genius. He crafts daggers that rupture emotions and send all feelings spiraling. Mike Hadreas also has perfect timing. Better yet, his music has always been culturally relevant. In 2012, Hadreas released the music video for his single “Hood.” That same year, marriage equality gained serious momentum and support. In the video, his eyes were a deep color of melancholy. The camera zooms out and it’s revealed that Hadreas is in the arms of another man. They are domesticated and in love. This relationship is a beautiful figuration of love but Hadreas’ past still haunts him. Regardless of sexuality, this is a strong human emotion. Unfortunately, there were many people who left hateful comments on the video’s YouTube page; however, none of them could take away its importance and significance. In just two years, many states have allowed same-sex couples to marry. This theme of toleration and equality is prevalent in Perfume Genius’ lead single, “Queen.”

“Queen” is a personal statement of endearment that unshackles Hadreas from his critics and his past work. His previous album, Put Your Back N 2 It, was tame and subtle. This new album is instead bold and risky, which is evident in the very first track, “Decline”, where Hadreas sings, “No thanks, I decline.” Specifically, he declines all judgments and notions. Too Bright is a bag of new tricks that contains the murky and dirty “My Body” and the finger-snapping bar blues tune “Fool.” Things get unpolished and industrial on “Grid” as it perfectly personifies any American Horror Story soundtrack. Perfume Genius isn’t afraid of bizarre, gritty, or grimy sounds. He still gets intimate and doesn’t lose his competent lyricism. Tender touches are available on songs like “Don’t Let Them In.” Too Bright shrieks, breaches past uniformity, and reshapes hate into a powerful project. [Sami]

#4 Spoon – They Want My Soul

They’re asking just the right band. Elements of soul have lied at the periphery of Spoon’s music for a while now; whether in the raspy, shaky vocal delivery and tipsy pianos of “All the Pretty Girls Go to the City”, the sensual pleading of “I Turn My Camera On”, or virtually the entirety of Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Motown’s sheen distantly informs this veteran band’s music. But now they want Spoon’s soul, after almost two decades in the game, and the band’s response seems to be tucking it away more than even before. Although flickers of soul’s influence still tend to pop up in Spoon’s pianos, They Want My Soul is their most pop and rock-oriented album, although it still bears the marks of their oddball take on straightforward styles.

If any Spoon album were to pleasurably beat listeners to death, it would be this one. Opener “Rent I Pay” picks up where the crushing pounders of previous album Transference, a somewhat but undeservedly maligned part of their catalog, leaves off; rarely have Spoon’s guitar smacked listeners’ faces harder. The hard groove of “Rainy Taxi” and the deep-fried chords of “They Want My Soul” achieve the same effect, engaging the ears with more aggression than we’re used to from this band. Sure, past greats like “Don’t Make Me a Target” and “My Little Japanese Cigarette Case” strike with great weight, but the stomp of lead single “Do You” resembles a low-Richter earthquake by Spoon standards. This lead single’s sun-soaked guitars, skip-hopping pianos, and almost-coughed vocals aren’t necessarily a new approach for these guys; rather, they’re just taken to their maximum here, as on many songs.

Yet despite the abundance of relative skull-crushers here, They Want My Soul is responsible for some of the most eerie, gentle, unrelentingly gorgeous moments of Spoon’s extensive catalog. Final track “New York Kiss” pours a hint of new wave into its nostalgic melancholy, ending the album on a surprisingly sober, aching note. Far earlier in the album, “Inside Out”, arguably the best song Spoon has written in seven years, is the closest listeners will ever come to crying along with the band. An unexpectedly haunting, pristine piece of restrained synthpop (!!!) with maybe the most fragile lyrics in Spoon’s discography, it’s a track that songwriter and frontman Britt Daniel told The Guardian is “the most beautiful thing [Spoon has] done.” Even though Spoon may be protecting their soul for the moment, a track this beautiful attests to the striking humanity they’ve achieved for not nearly the first time in their career. [Max]

#3 FKA twigs- LP1

A strong visceral string pulls at the core of everything that FKA twigs produces. Intriguing textures, contrasts, and vibrancies all result in LP1 being the most resilient visual album of the year. The album package has a certain Mona Lisa-esque puzzling aesthetic that is graphically interesting. The sleeves for the album feature crumbling, melting, distorting versions of the main album art. In totality, the album art, tracks, music videos are a unified front. The album art quantifies a very somber and an almost sorrowful twigs. The center of her face is colored with red, blue and purple. Red is a color that represents a burning passion, desire, sexuality and romance. On the other hand, blue embodies wisdom, loyalty, truth, and confidence. Purple demonstrates luxury, power and mystery. A passionate red, a confident blue and a very mysterious purple all manifest themselves on this album. LP1 is a portrayal of basic human emotions from an artist that is often personified to be extraterrestrial or unearthly.

It can be said that 2014 went through an alternative R&B phrase. However, none stimulated this genre more than twigs’ “Two Weeks.” An alien beat treads lightly as it marries with twigs’ sensual voice. Her voice is as commanding as every word she sings. This is where the red, blue and purple collide. There is explicit desire, shades of an intensely confident blue and a very mysterious purple. This is definitely the kind of song that every artist should hope to write. It’s an audio stunner that exemplifies the best in rhythm and blues. Twigs projects a stealthy and mysterious image; however, the song “Pendulum” is far from otherworldly. It showcases relatable human emotions. “Pendulum” is a soulful song where an eclectic mix of pleasing sounds lies underneath her as she vocalizes. This track demonstrates a different kind of desire than “Two Weeks.” This time it’s less about sexual desire and more about desiring loyalty. Desire is a strong thematic field that keeps this album together.

Various audiovisual instrumentals invite momentum to each song that is often enthralling. “Lights on” is an intense flame where twigs confesses that “when I trust you we can do it with the lights on.” Similarly, “Kicks” is bursting with imagery of twigs slowly releasing herself from the robust, magnetic desire. Her ethereal delivery matches her fragile state of mind. LP1 succeeds because it is a conglomerate of visual and sonic unity. Twigs has earned a 2015 Grammy nomination for Best Recording Package. Her imagery is mesmerizing, colorful and subtle and therefore, it’s a good sign that the Grammys have recognized an artist who has unique layers. [Sami]

#2 Angel Olsen – Burn Your Fire For No Witness

Now signed to a bigger label and empowered with a full band to record with, Angel Olsen’s Burn Your Fire for No Witness takes all manner of creative leaps with her unique fusion of folk, country, and blues rock. The album is distinctly memorable for how many diverse templates it applies over its runtime, and how brilliantly it succeeds in each mode it attempts. Drumless folk hum is as abundant as both roaring, howling rock stompers and twangy, country-lit musings. Even with Olsen’s flexibility boosting her songs’ quality, though, it’s her voice, both lyrically and musically, that shines most strongly throughout the album.

Opener “Unfucktheworld” is an extended false start for Burn Your Fire; its diminutive, bare-bones folk in no way anticipates follow-up “Forgiven/Forgotten”, a window-shattering anthem of loneliness. Elsewhere, “White Fire” delivers a boldly haunting starkness, and “High and Wild” marries cowgirl boots with piano that nearly recalls good ol’ ragtime. The stylistic bending that drives this album keeps it consistently entertaining, and also contrasts the constance of isolation, despair, and anguish as lyrical themes. “Stars” details the complications of escaping an emotionally abusive relationship, and “Enemy” and “Iota” may detail similar failings. “Unfucktheworld” depicts attachment from a distance, where as “High and Wild” explores the same feelings from a much closer perspective. Each of these songs varies in sound, yet thematic consistency ties them together excellently.

Where the intersection of topical uniformity and stylistic deviance truly meets here is the ineffable, primal power of Olsen’s voice. Her singing is always deeply mournful and pained, whether over a music bed as dim as that on “Dance Slow Decades” or one as earnest as “Lights Out.” This latter song is both the album’s midpoint and the true meeting of Olsen’s vocal talent, emotional discovery, and genre tendencies. Its desolate electric guitars gleam slowly and with no distortion, but make up for this lack of drive with plenty of reverb and eventual phaser. Its vocals are likewise as haunting as they are haunted, ranging from a broken vibrato to a tough bellow. Musically, it lies between the extremes of folky softness and bluesy abrasiveness that define the album’s best moments; wordwise, it sees Olsen giving advice to someone who may well be herself. “Some days all you need is one good thought strong in your mind,” Olsen reassures whoever is listening, a moment that’s both this song’s and the whole album’s peak. In other words: keep the fire burning, even if no one’s around to witness it. [Max]

#1 St. Vincent – St. Vincent

Perhaps the best feeling in the world is to observe a talented person finally garnering the widespread recognition she deserves. After seven years of slowly gaining the undying respect of independent music lovers, St. Vincent, real name Annie Clark, showed up on pretty much everyone’s radar in the year 2014. If year-end lists were based purely on the amount of blogging, discussion, and hype behind an act, St. Vincent, her self-titled fourth album, would top each and every one. It just so happens that the constant conversation is justified: all mythology aside, St. Vincent is this year’s most forward-thinking, individual, bizarre, spellbinding album. Rather than merely standing well ahead of the curve as on past releases, Clark is now transmitting from a level on which only the most revered of legends operate.

Clark’s enhanced spark may indeed come from the abundance of time she spent with a living legend. After releasing the David Byrne collaboration Love This Giant in 2012, the two toured together, and it’s clear from both the newly reformed St. Vincent live show and the funk experimentation of this album that his influence seeped directly into her blood. Where would the electrified, digitized stutter of “Rattlesnake” be without albums like Remain in Light? In what world devoid of Byrne’s strangely enticing musical oddities would a song like “Bring Me Your Loves” be feasible? The unspoken advice of a musical god informs St. Vincent, but Clark is talented enough to adapt his methods into a cocktail all her own.

That a new Clark would manifest on this album was immediately apparent when she released first single “Birth in Reverse” in December 2013. A blitz of technical guitar playing and shifty rhythms unlike anything she’d previously done, come February, fans would realize that much of St. Vincent would match the bar set by this first preview. “Digital Witness”, the album’s fulcrum, saunters down the runway on the weirdest synth-guitar interaction this side of Kraftwerk; “Psychopath” shakes and quivers just as oddly. Yet these are quite evidently pop songs despite their weirdness; “Regret” and “Every Tear Disappears” are among the best examples present of Clark’s juggling of straightforward appeal and weird wonder.

At the end of the day, this is a trick that only St. Vincent could pull off, which is why the album is self-titled. Clark has said that the title also stems from this album sounding more like her true self than ever before, which makes sense given that “Prince Johnny” and “Huey Newton” quite clearly recall the grey hues of Strange Mercy. That Clark can still pilfer from her own past a bit while leaping forward so daringly is reassurance to longtime fans that this seven-year ride to ultimate, ubiquitous respect has been unflaggingly worth the wait. [Max]