2015 is the first year of this decade’s second half. In the world of listicles, this means that we’ve moved past the “best of the decade so far” realm. In the world of music, though, 2015 has already established itself as one of the best years (so far) that music has seen in a pretty long while. In just six months, we’ve seen established artists outdoing themselves, cult artists gaining a more widespread following, and beginners striking gold on their very first try. It’s a difficult task to keep track of the sheer volume of excellent songs, EPs, and LPs that have been released so far this year, but it seems like a necessary task. Organizing this half-year’s favorites might help listeners more easily comb through the wealth of great music set to emerge in the forthcoming second half of 2015. It’ll also allow eager music lovers to discover some new tunes they had previously missed (or dismissed), and scythe through the hype that can sometimes distort the true value of an artist’s work.

It’s important to note, before we begin, that this list is unranked. We don’t seek to claim that one album is objectively better than another; rather, our writers have discussed their personal favorite albums of the year, and come to a consensus on ten collections that we all enjoy. But there are actually more than ten albums listed here: three of our writers have each provided one personal favorite, playfully dubbed a “Passionate Orphan,” that didn’t make our main list. These thirteen LPs aren’t nearly the only great albums released this year, but may this feature act as a springboard in giving you something new to explore, and let us know what you’d add to the list in the comments. Also, listen to these songs on our Spotify Playlist!

In alphabetical order, here are our Favorite Albums of 2015 So Far.

Björk – Vulnicura

[One Little Indian]

It’s tough to listen to Björk’s 2001 album Vespertine in light of its relation to Vulnicura. The former album boils down to a twelve-song exploration of how deeply Björk enjoyed her intimacy with Matthew Barney; the latter album details the dissolution of their ten-plus years together, and its emotional impact on her and their daughter. Björk couldn’t have foreseen in 2001 that, twelve years later, the relationship comprising Vespertine’s cornerstone would dissolve, and Vulnicura sounds like she’s still shocked that it didn’t work out. The sheer lyrical anger of “Black Lake,” which contains words so harsh that it’s been described as a Matthew Barney diss track, finds its singer trying, but failing, to move on; in fact, it spends ten minutes working through Björk’s emotions, making it her longest song to date. Most of Vulnicura is longer than the majority of Björk’s past songs, which makes sense: it takes an incredibly long time to process these kinds of emotions. Luckily for listeners, in doing so, Björk returned to the sonic roots of her 1997 classic Homogenic, and released her best album in far too long. [Max]

Dengue Fever – The Deepest Lake

[Tuk Tuk]

LA-based Cambodian-psychedelic outfit Dengue Fever has been around for over a decade, making music so off the beaten path most people don’t notice that they essentially haven’t changed much since their inception. They’ve definitely evolved their sound album to album, but their latest effort, The Deepest Lake, still upholds their core principles by delivering vibrant, catchy tunes steeped in ambient guitars and Cambodian pop grooves that immediately suck you into a sort of sonic vacuum. They’re like no one else, the key to their unique sound being singer Chhom Nimol, whose voice sounds like that of some kind of sexy alien from another galaxy. She seduces you during ominous, haunting songs like “Taxi Dancer,” “Vacant Lot,” and “Cardboard Castles” as the textured instrumentals circle and undulate. The band rocks, too, like in “Still Waters Run Deep,” a pulsating surf rock romp that rains down brass flourishes like confetti on a doomsday dance party. You must, must, must see this band live; Nimol is ravishing and they’re the kind of band who always seems to be having just as much fun as their audiences, if not more. [Bernard]

Father John Misty – I Love You, Honeybear

[Sub Pop]

In 2012, former Fleet Foxes member Josh Tillman released his debut under the new alias Father John Misty. Fear Fun was released to a cult following, but received a disappointing lack of blog attention. Oh, how the times have changed: come 2015, I Love You, Honeybear and its creator are all the fuss, perhaps inspiring the ire of long-devoted fans. But the surge in fandom is understandable; Josh Tillman’s sophomore album is far more widely appealing than the folk intimacy of Fear Fun. Honeybear’s reverberant, almost cinematic songs broadcast their creator’s nihilism and humor loudly, boasting gorgeous instrumentation alongside some of the funniest lyricism in recent memory. The peak of Tillman’s penchant for combining lush arrangements with cutting comedy is “The Night Josh Tillman Came To Our Apt.,” wherein his clever scalpel dissects our frequent misuse of the word “literally” and then proceeds to tackle cultural appropriation in music. With thoughts this deep, it’s no wonder everyone’s listening. [Max]

Kendrick Lamar – To Pimp a Butterfly

[Interscope/Aftermath/Top Dawg]

Another blog writing about the merits of To Pimp a Butterfly. Are you tired of this yet? Well, you really shouldn’t be. Many have been quick to label Kendrick Lamar’s sophomore album one of the greatest hip-hop albums ever recorded, but deeming it a hip-hop album does its creator a disservice. To Pimp a Butterfly isn’t merely a hip-hop album; it’s a soul album, a funk album, a jazz album, a protest album, a political manifesto, a necessary document in an era when the media somehow finds ways to defend a young white male murdering nine black churchgoers in a state where the confederate flag still flies at full mast. Even if it’s incredibly dense and culturally vital lyricism is ignored, its musical accomplishments merit intense analysis and praise. But you can find in-depth treatises of this album in virtually any publication that writes about modern music, so let’s just end by noting that this album is being taught in high schools directly alongside Toni Morrison’s novels to expose the nation’s youth to the frustratingly undying presence of white supremacy in our world. Mission accomplished. [Max]

Lower Dens – Escape From Evil

[Ribbon Music]

Paying homage to the past without sounding retro is one of the hardest things to do, but with Lower Dens’ third album, Escape From Evil, they take an overt ‘80s aesthetic and use it to propel their music forward, rather than simply resurrect sounds from a bygone era. The album’s lead single, “To Die in L.A.,” sounds like Flock of Seagulls and a-ha but with a hint of Eastern influence that takes it to another place entirely. They’re not making the old sound new; they’re forcing us to reinterpret old sounds, revealing new colors of ‘80s pop that have seemingly always been there, but haven’t been explored quite like this. Songwriter Jana Hunter sounds as freewheeling and liberated as ever, vacillating between masculine and feminine emotiveness effortlessly. With Escape From Evil, Lower Dens continues the conversation queer pop started in the ‘80s, and it’s albums like this that keep modern music healthy. [Bernard]

Natalie Prass – Natalie Prass

[Spacebomb]

Recorded in 2012 and held for release until this year due to promoting co-producer Matthew E. White’s debut album (both on the same label), Natalie Prass is nine tracks of pure elegance. Prass’ deceptively fragile voice shows complete control over each song’s gorgeous arrangement, maintaining a consistency while gracefully hopping from one musical influence to another. Whether it’s evoking Scott Walker’s ‘60s solo albums on “Christy” or sounding like a Disney princess on album closer “It Is You,” Prass handles every track with a grace that makes one wish she had more music to consume (it’s hard to believe this is only her first album). For those unaware of Prass, a good place to start might be opener “My Baby Don’t Understand Me” or the knockout track “Violently,” where Prass sings about intense heartbreak while the strings and horns surrounding her voice soar. They’re beautiful songs that, like all great art, can transform pain into catharsis. [C.J.]

Sleater-Kinney – No Cities To Love

[Sub Pop]

We’re currently living in an age of nostalgic zombification. Whether it’s classic films getting rebooted, old TV shows coming back for another season (hello Twin Peaks and Full House), beloved video games getting updated for the new generation of consoles, or bands finally making up over whatever had them breaking up, it’s obvious that what’s old is new again. But the key word here is zombification; what we loved may be back, but it’s not the same as it was before. Sleater-Kinney may have taken a break for ten years since their ear-shattering masterpiece The Woods, but listen to No Cities to Love and it’s hard to imagine they haven’t released anything since 2005. In just over 32 minutes, Sleater-Kinney show off everything that makes them great: Janet Weiss’ terrific drumming, Carrie Brownstein & Corin Tucker’s kickass guitar playing (along with Tucker’s thunderous vocals), and one memorable, airtight rock song after another. With No Cities to Love, Sleater-Kinney isn’t rising from the dead; they’re letting us know they’re still alive, kicking, and at the top of their game. [C.J.]

Speedy Ortiz – Foil Deer

[Carpark]

Speedy Ortiz’s third full-length album (and second as a full band) is often significantly less sonically scathing and incisive than the band’s previous two releases, but it’s no less menacing than its predecessors. The explicit venom and vigor of past tracks like “American Horror” and “Tiger Tank” are instead subtly woven into Foil Deer in the form of vocalist, lyricist, guitarist, and songwriter Sadie Dupuis’ remarkably assertive and eloquent words. Here, Dupuis twice threatens listeners with a blade, declares herself the boss, writes her last will and testament, simultaneously derides and envies social drinkers, wanders an eternal circular path, and suggests that young women stand up to the patriarchy. Sure, songs like “My Dead Girl,” “Mister Difficult,” and “Dot X” are newly pillowy as far as Speedy Ortiz tracks go, but like many of Foil Deer’s tracks, their initially soft impacts blossom into unforgettable ear worms in due time. [Max]

Torres – Sprinter

[Partisan]

A white girl from Nashville going by the Portuguese and Spanish last name Torres might seem like she’s hiding behind something, but Mackenzie Scott actually adopted this moniker from her grandfather’s last name. If it still seems like she’s using this nom de plume as a shield, let the bare honesty and direct sonics of Sprinter, her second album, convince you otherwise. This album begins with Scott sympathizing with the family struggles of a character named Heather, only to remind Heather that she still hates her nevertheless. This all happens within the album’s first verse, against only an occasional, dimly muted guitar chug; there is quite literally almost nothing hiding Scott’s sentiments. Towards the end of this opening song, “Strange Hellos,” Scott screams the previously sung choruses so loudly that the word “find” begins to sound like an f-bomb. Later in the album, she steps into “The Harshest Light,” armed with just her voice and a guitar. She comes out the other side a bit more emotionally fulfilled, as will listeners brave enough to endure her raw, uncompromising world. [Max]

Waxahatchee – Ivy Tripp

[Merge]

Singer-songwriter Katie Crutchfield started indie project Waxahatchee about five years ago, and with each new album she’s taken us a bit further on her journey through twenty-something listlessness and confusion. She’s still gingerly feeling her way through the twisted brambles of adulthood on her latest, Ivy Tripp, and it’s still a joy to be her trusty companion as she finds her way. On the standout track “<” she sings the bitter, distressing refrain, “You’re less than me/I am nothing” as drums rattle like an electric shock, tense guitars sustaining bent, dissonant tones. It’s this kind of album that helps to shake away the static of social media and allow you to focus on sorting out your own troubles rather than listening to everyone else’s. Catchy, sparsely arranged songs like “Grey Hair” and “Under a Rock” harken back to a time when straightforward, emotional rock was super cool. [Bernard]

C.J. Prince’s Passionate Orphan

Allie X – CollXtion I

[UMG/Label X]

I’ve always been a fan of pop music, but it’s always been a bit of a task to convince people (not just on this site) to be open to recognizing a great pop album or song instead of fawning over the next quartet of plaid-shirted dudes taking Brooklyn by storm. And while pop tends to be more about what surrounds the music than the music itself, there are plenty of Damn Good pop records that don’t get the love they deserve. Allie X’s CollXtion I is one of those albums. Despite earning endorsements from the likes of Katy Perry and a penchant for making weird GIFs, Allie X just hasn’t made that big of a splash this year. It’s too bad, because right from CollXtion’s first track, “Hello,” it’s obvious that she can put together a truly catchy song. And in a genre where an artist’s best work tends to be a greatest hits compilation, CollXtion I is shockingly consistent, with no bad apple in the bunch. It’s only a small release—7 tracks, with several more “collXtions” planned to come out later—but CollXtion I establishes Allie X as a pop artist to keep a close eye on. And until Carly Rae Jepsen comes along to show everyone how it’s done, this is my favourite pop album of the year.

Max Freedman’s Passionate Orphan

Courtney Barnett – Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit

[Mom+Pop]

Way Too Indie might actually be the only publication that didn’t put this record on their list of best albums so far this year. Courtney Barnett is all the fuss in 2015, and for good reason: her debut full-length, following a double EP released in 2013, delivers clever, incredibly intelligent lyricism without even a hint of pretentiousness. Barnett’s songwriting is magnificently versatile, manifesting variously as screeching punk on “Pedestrian at Best,” reverbed sparsity on “Depreston,” and fiery blues-folk on “Kim’s Caravan” and secret album champion “Small Poppies.” It’s rare that two subsequent songs on this album occupy explicitly similar sonic spheres, yet they flow together wonderfully thanks to their creator’s compelling quirks. Barnett applies unusual vigor and determination to familiar melodies and chord progressions, with her thickly Australian-accented, easily audible musings on topics ranging from long distance relationships to environmental destruction amplifying her music’s effect. “Put me on a pedestal, and I’ll only disappoint you; tell me I’m exceptional, and I promise to exploit you,” she warns on “Pedestrian at Best,” yet praise for her debut justifiably continues to flow in from every corner of the world.

Bernard Boo’s Passionate Orphan

Joey Bada$$ – B4.DA.$$

[Cinematic Music Group]

Hip-hop’s gone through several phases, be it the bling-bling era of the aughts, the West Coast gangsta influx of the early ‘90s or the current, emo-party-boy stage we’re currently in, in which J Cole sings about losing his virginity and jacking off. My favorite style of hip-hop has and always will be hardcore, no-frills NYC rhyming, the stuff that hits you right in the mouth. Brooklyn rapper Joey Bada$$, with his latest, greatest album, B4.DA.$$, keeps that tradition alive with hard-hitting boom-bap beats, real lyricism and an ungodly flow on the verge of setting the world on fire. There are some banger instrumentals on here (“Paper Trail$,” “Christ Conscious”) and some jazzy cuts, too (“Hazeus View,” “Piece of Mind”). Joey’s can be a mic monster or a thinking man’s emcee, but he’s best when he’s both at once, like on “Save the Children” or “Paper Trail$,” a perceptive observation of the deadlier trappings of fame and fortune. Kendrick Lamar may have made the best album of the past 15 years, but don’t dare sleep on B4.DA.$$, a more straightforward, traditional alternative to To Pimp a Butterfly. Joey’s got a dollar and a dream, know what I mean?

Listen to These Albums on Our Spotify Playlist

Today we present what might be the saddest 10-song stretch of our Best 50 Songs of the Decade So Far. Sometimes these songs define why they’re sad quite obviously in their words; other times, the subject matter is somewhat vague, but the instrumentation fills in the sadness. However, this portion of our list isn’t all tears and dejection; for almost every sad moment in this segment, there’s a more upbeat tune geared for the dance floor. A manic, politically raging, dark electronic tune, a subtly slinking deep house groove, and an all out disco anthem are just a few of the sounds you’ll find here. With moodiness and rhythm each in tow here, there should be something to satisfy everyone in this section. Read on and enjoy the tunes!

Best 50 Songs Of The Decade So Far
(#30 – #21)

Grizzly Bear – “Yet Again”

Grizzly Bear have constantly stayed on critics’ and listeners’ radar by expanding their initial folk palette into sounds far more expansive and surprising. “Yet Again,” a key track from their most recent album Shields, sees the band expanding their gaze towards a far moodier, more reverberantly amplified approach. Its guitars sound like they’re positively dripping with sadness, and the almost hymnal quality of vocalist Ed Droste’s intimate croon endows the song with a church-like size and power. This style contrasts the dejected, almost campfire feel of past Grizzly Bear greats like “Knife” and “While You Wait for the Others”; “Yet Again” is more uptempo and even incisive than almost anything the band has done before, yet contains equal amounts of emotional weight. And if these words don’t make you a believer, let this freak folk’s duo attempt at noise rock—the song’s outro—convince you. [Max]

Speedy Ortiz – “No Below”

There’s no question that “No Below” is an autobiographical painting. Sadie Dupuis, frontwoman of Boston-based punkers Speedy Ortiz, scales back the dynamics and tempo more commonly associated with her band for Major Arcana’s most personal, heart-on-sleeve tale. High school bullies, broken knees, swimming, possible suicidal thoughts—these are all real things that happened, so they make very appropriate subject matter for a bleaker, more restrained song. “True, I once said/I was better off just being dead/but I didn’t know you yet,” ends this song’s confessional, upfront chorus; it’s a statement that’s as moving as the music itself. Where Speedy Ortiz really drive this song home, though, is in the second chorus, which is a rough repeat of the first, but with more guitar overdubs and truly spine-rattling, achingly resonant vocal harmonies. The splintered guitar noise that follows both caps the emotional stress of this chorus perfectly and serves splendidly as a predecessor to one of the most memorable final lines in recent memory: “I didn’t know you/when you were a kid/but swimming with you, it sure feels like I did.” Thanks to Dupuis, it feels like we knew this person too. [Max]

The National – “Bloodbuzz Ohio”

The National have become weather-battered staples of the indie world, and deservedly so. The quintet’s fifth studio album, High Violet, was the pitch perfect example of a band not afraid to grow, but not shy of their roots, which resulted in one of the best albums of 2010. And “Bloodbuzz Ohio” is the best song on a great album. It’s a pulsing whirlwind of an epic, propelled by pounding drum work and thick piano, but more than anything a showcase for front man Matt Berninger’s impossibly smooth baritone and the lyrics he coos, “I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees.” Lifted by tones and horns that spike at the opportune moments, “Bloodbuzz” is a master class in indie rock, a high water mark that might take a while to beat. [Gary]

Robyn & Royksopp – “Do It Again”

When artists release different versions of the same track, they’re unintentionally inviting confusion. What saves Royksopp’s “Do It Again,” however, are Robyn’s warm and innately tantalizing vocal talents which dominate both versions I know. In early 2014, the Norwegian electro masters combined powers with Swedish pop phenom Robyn, for a collaborative Scandinavian headbanger and instant club staple. When Royksopp’s final studio album, “The Inevitable End,” was released later that same year, this same song got a makeover more suited for listening pleasure than fist pumping in the club, which is now known as the “RYXP” version. This longer, subdued, variant is more my wheelhouse, but just take one example of Robyn’s delivery, like when she purrs “and then it arrives/the moment before/the anticipation/you know it’s like mm-mm-mm,” and you’ve nailed the song’s massive appeal, no matter the version. By celebrating people’s impulsive desires for emotional ecstasy, regardless of how much pain may await us in the long-term, the song gives everyone a reason to dance, and even makes good use of the overused “one more time” club gimmick by weaving it into its message. [Nik]

Zola Jesus – “Run Me Out”

It was hard to pick a favourite song from Zola Jesus’ Stridulum EP, but my personal favourite has always been “Run Me Out.” It’s a massive, anthemic song that highlights Zola Jesus’ strengths: her sparseness, her strong emotional power, and especially her voice. Starting out as a minimal, cavernous sounding track, Zola Jesus keeps repeating the words “Run me out” as more percussion and synths kick in to bring everything to a cathartic finish. This is an unabashedly “big” song, and it’s hard to finish listening without wanting to hit repeat and hear Zola Jesus’ soaring vocals all over again. [C.J.]

Yelle – “Safari Disco Club”

With EDM rising over the years, pop music has taken on a bit of a more aggressive tone, so it’s a relief to listen to a band like Yelle. Led by Julie Budet (who also refers to herself as Yelle, causing some confusion as to whether Yelle is a band or an artist), they make insanely precise and detailed pop music that knows how to be fun. It’s overtly catchy, inviting and downright easy to let loose to. “Safari Disco Club” is another excellent song from Yelle, a propulsive track on a mission to make you dance. And once the song takes Budet’s vocals in the second chorus, chops them up and makes them the backing for a closing dance break (one thing Yelle are insanely good at: dance breaks), just try and stop yourself from moving. [C.J.]

The Knife – “Full of Fire”

At over 9 minutes long, “Full of Fire” is a full on aural assault, a non-stop barrage of experimental sounds that comes perilously close to the avant-garde. And yet, as one layer of sound after another gets added on to the song’s relentless beat, every piece ends up fitting perfectly with the sonic overload. “Full of Fire” is a bit of a departure for The Knife compared to their earlier work, but it’s also a song that can only be associated with them, largely due to Karin Dreijer Andersson’s otherworldly vocals. And while listening to the synths, strings, drums, static, distortion, comments on gender identity and feminism (among many other topics) and everything else stuffed into this single piece of insanity, all working together like a giant machine made up of millions of moving parts, the long hiatus between Silent Shout and Shaking the Habitual suddenly makes sense. A song as dense and epic as this one feels like it took all seven years to make. [C.J.]

Caribou – “Odessa”

Watch the video for “Odessa” on YouTube and scroll through the comments. Indulge in the myriad misheard lyrics posted for the chorus (“Chicken steak, chicken steak, who knows what she’s gonna make”) and have a laugh. Then acknowledge that Dan Snaith, as Caribou, has buried a fly-on-the-wall tale of a failing (and possibly abusive) relationship under one of the most impressively minimal house beats you’ve ever heard. Snaith doesn’t need flashy, expensive, aggressive synths to create the excellence of “Odessa”; merely a percussive track and some digital flourishes form this song’s tiny but propelling backbone. Very few elements establish this song’s glitchy, somewhat psychedelic groove, one that overpowers the lyrics. Intense listening will reveal the unfortunate tale that Snaith is writing here, but it’s just as easy to get lost in the music, a balance that remains a Caribou specialty to this day. [Max]

Blouse – “Into Black”

Deeply affecting, imbibed in mystery, and like a ghost of its own reflection, “Into Black” tiptoes into the ear buds with such efficient stealth that every sense feels stimulated. Like my fellow WTI colleague C.J., my every point of reference is anchored by cinema, and this song is a very visual one. What this little-known band from Portland manages to do is immediately paint a landscape in front of my mind’s eyes that would be a fitting setting for a David Lynch and Nicholas Winding Refn co-production. The song’s darkly romantic vibe accompanies its tinge of disturbance in the cosmos with melodic perfection, Charlie Hilton’s spectral singing coiling around the listener as if to say: “you’re naked without me.” “What do the Gods know/They’ll never see the stars look as small as this/And you’re a strike of lightning/Making up a sky for the Gods to kiss with,” coos Hilton, over Patrick Adams’ nostalgic electric guitar. It’s the kind of lyrical poetry that makes so many mainstream artists pale in comparison. Just listen to how Hilton emphasizes the “light” in “lightning,” and tell me it doesn’t epitomize the sense of longing with impeccable symbiosis of sound and voice. [Nik]

Girls – “Vomit”

Commercial pop music is sometimes attacked for how simple its lyrics are, but on “Vomit,” a distinctly anti-pop song, Christopher Owens, Jr. transforms some of his most basic poetry into one of his most powerful songs. In switching between the dejected, utterly hopeless dirge of its verses and the gospel-laced ecstasy of its chorus, Owens’ straightforward poem gains several levels of potency, aided by a fiery, lacerating guitar solo between its second and third verses. The song’s second chorus gives way to even more gospel influence, leading into an entirely different section recalling the spryness of 60s surf rock as equally as it does the reverberant, enthusiastic soul of an act like Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings. Across six and a half minutes, “Vomit” takes an impressive number of shapes, all the while never losing sight of its message: I love you, and I will do anything for you. Simple, but painfully relatable. [Max]

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 (#40 – #31)
Best 50 Songs of the Decade So Far (#20 – #11)
Best 50 Songs of the Decade So Far (#10 – #1)

As Christmas approaches, so do the lists. Yes, it’s holiday season, but it’s also ranking season; each and every year, bloggers, music critics, and your Average Joe music listener all compile lists of their favorite musical works of the year. Typically, there’s a preface included, which reads something along the lines of “this was a great year for music, so choosing these picks was extremely difficult!” This introduction is about as guaranteed as the mere existence of the list itself, because, well, those who devote time and effort to discovering (and hopefully enjoying) new music know that it’s rare that, at any point in time, a dearth of it exists.

In light of this wonderful wealth of music, don’t fret if some of your favorite songs of the year don’t wind up on this list; there exists a perpetual abundance of art, far too much for any one human being to perfectly and fully absorb, so it’s wholly possible that great works won’t achieve the appreciation that many believe they merit. That said, notoriously popular picks such as “Get Lucky” might not be found here, although such omissions stem from indifference rather than malice. Also, lists convey opinions rather than objective fact, and, as Sly Stone once said, “Different strokes for different folks.” Anyway, without further ado, let’s reflect on this year and twenty of the many great songs it brought us.

Also check out our Best Albums of 2013 list

Way Too Indie’s Top 20 Songs of 2013

#20 – Lemonade: “Skyballer”

#19 – Haim: “If I Could Change Your Mind”

#18 – Jagwar Ma: “The Throw”

#17 – Foxygen: “On Blue Mountain”

#16 – Boards of Canada: “Nothing Is Real”

#15 – Glasser: “Exposure”

#14 – Saint Pepsi: “Better”

#13 – Disclosure: “When a Fire Starts to Burn”

#12 – Speedy Ortiz: “Tiger Tank”

#11 – Darkside: “Paper Trails”

#10 – CHVRCHES: “Lies”

#9 – The Virgins: “Flashbacks, Memories, and Dreams”

#8 – Vampire Weekend: “Hannah Hunt”

#7 – Savages: “She Will”

#6 – Arcade Fire: “Reflektor”

Even in light of Reflektor‘s often pale musings, its title track stands as one of Arcade Fire’s greatest accomplishments to date. It continues the band’s embrace of disco as hinted by The Suburbs‘ “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)” — actually, it expands this theme much farther than most listeners would have reasonably expected. Marching forward upon “deep African voodoo rhythms that are the language in Haiti,” as vocalist/songwriter Win Butler describes the percussion, “Reflektor” perfectly melds the dance-leanings of producer James Murphy with the cathartic, carrying song structures Arcade Fire perfected on their first three albums. The grandiose instrumentation also present on these albums is restricted to a backing template here, as strings and brass merely paint an outline for these nearly eight minutes of life-sized splendor. It’s Arcade Fire’s longest song to date, and over its course, there are many moments when dancing is as understandable a response as is being too awestruck to move at all.

Listen to Arcade Fire: “Reflektor”

#5 – Kurt Vile: “Wakin’ On a Pretty Day”

From this song’s opening moments, it’s clear that Vile’s lush guitar tones and Americana-influenced soloing make for pure psychedelic bliss. After an already appealing first four minutes filled with this variation on his typical complacent, chill psych-folk, a brief pause transitions into the song’s second half, the true winner here. The first appearance of what might be the year’s best guitar riff emerges just about thirty seconds into this section: washed in lush, hazy tones, plucked guitar notes bathe the listener in a listless euphoria. There’s nothing exceptional about the riff itself — these notes have been used before, these scales are thoroughly abundant in guitar-based music — but its delivery is riveting. Vile repeats this riff constantly over the course of five minutes, adding minor variations here and there, yet it affects just as strongly each and every time. Nothing to be afraid of here — just sit back and float away.

Listen to Kurt Vile: “Wakin’ On a Pretty Day”

#4 – Moderat: “Milk”

With “Milk,” Moderat can be added to the list of electronic musicians with a steady hand over repetition. “Milk” lasts ten minutes, yet feels much shorter. Perhaps this pseudo-brevity, both a blessing and a curse, stems from how great the song’s repeating bit remains from its first to its last iteration. The clatter of icy percussion, the rise and fall of cold walls of synths, the blurring and refocusing of sampled oohs and aahs: really, these three phrases describe the entirety of the song. Although each featured is layered and de-layered countless times during “Milk”‘s blessed ten minutes, the song never stagnates despite its inherently perpetual nature. Amidst all the repetition, it’s one of the most moving pieces released this year.

Listen to Moderat: “Milk”

#3 – Jon Hopkins: “Open Eye Signal”

#2 – Youth Lagoon: “Pelican Man”

#1 – Yeah Yeah Yeahs: “Sacrilege”

From the song’s relatively minimal opening moments, it’s clear that Karen O hasn’t lost her ability to alternate between the vilest and purest states of her voice. “Halo! ‘Round his head!” perfectly covers the former terrain, while “Falling for a guy/who fell down from the sky” embraces the latter. Once the percussion picks up and provides the bass (a rare instrument in this trio’s music) with a greater context, Nick Zinner doesn’t take long to throw in a flashy guitar riff similar to the ones for which he’s so well-liked. Zinner brings some murkiness and general mystery to the tone of the chorus; this feeling slowly spreads throughout the remainder of the song (although it had been there since the beginning), culminating in, of all things surprising, the addition of a 24-piece gospel choir.

This gospel choir could have easily felt out of place, but the band instead uses it to initiate the song’s triumphant emotional peak. As Karen O pleads and prays, the choir follows her lead, eventually themselves becoming the leaders when nearly all other instrumentation drops out. It’s a reminder of just how powerful human voices can be, especially in unison, and achieves a victorious feeling that seemingly resolves the tension the song employed in the first place. Sure, it’s a change in direction, but when it’s this resonant, who cares?

Listen to Yeah Yeah Yeahs: “Sacrilege”