It’s safe to assume that thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands, of albums have been released so far this decade. What we’re about to present to you begins the twenty albums we’ve selected from this batch as our favorites of the decade so far. Narrowing down such a vast array of releases is no simple task, but these albums stick out from the pack.

Get ready for some of the best music this decade’s offered us to date. Listen to today’s 10 albums via our Spotify Playlist and check out the previous three while you’re over there.

Best 50 Albums Of The Decade So Far (#20-#11)

St. Vincent – Strange Mercy

After the omnipresent, seemingly eternal buzz surrounding St. Vincent, Annie Clark’s 2014 breakthrough, finally receded, it became clear that Strange Mercy, her previous album, remains her strongest effort, as well as one of the century’s most gratifying works. Easily her most cohesive and best sequenced album, it ditches the ostentatious, ornate orchestration of previous albums Marry Me and Actor in favor of a grey, stark, stripped-back aesthetic. Although it contains a few crafty, frenetic fuzz guitar blazes that recall Actor’s anxious, grungy glory (“Cruel,” “Chloe in the Afternoon,” the verses of “Northern Lights”), the majority of Strange Mercy is unnervingly bare. Clark’s guitar playing retains the bleak anxiety of her past songs while also forming soundscapes that are much more notably lurching and crystalline, yet more subtly groovy than before. “Cheerleader” contrasts desolate, somber verses with the growling, gradual guitar smashes of its whopping chorus; “Dilettante” sees Clark applying only the smallest amount of distortion to her guitars, favoring newer wah and modulating effects; “Neutered Fruit” proceeds with a squelch and a crunch unheard before in Clark’s music. Strange Mercy’s songs rank among her least frenetic, so it’s fitting that her voice sounds both grounded and poignant. It takes control of central slow-burner “Strange Mercy,” controlling the song’s emotions as it transforms from stable into urgent. A similar transition occurs on “Surgeon,” both Clark’s best song to date and one of the most innately thrilling ever recorded. A bridge following the second chorus delivers on the promise of the song’s slowly growing guitar funk, rising half a key to allow Clark to deliver her most dire vocal performance on record. “Best finest surgeon/come cut me open,” Clark pleads, and it’s hard to resist dissecting the detailed body that is Strange Mercy. [Max]

Bat for Lashes – The Haunted Man

Natasha Khan has been making music as Bat For Lashes for about a decade now, and her third solo EP, 2012’s The Haunted Man, is the latest and grandest artistic statement she’s made thus far. Aside from having the most badass album covers of that year, in which she’s standing tall, a helpless man draped across her shoulders, The Haunted Man is Khan’s vastest, most instrumentally adventurous outing yet. From the mystical choral chants of the title track and “Oh Yeah,” to the gentle drones of “Marilyn” and “Lilies,” to the plucky riff on “All Your Gold,” she’s got an orchestra of wild and weird sounds at her back as she lays down her sensuous, breathy vocals.

In “Laura,” the albums most successful single, Khan sings a melody so timeless and classic it’s a wonder that nobody had written it until now (a “holy grail” accomplishment for most songwriters of her ilk). She coos, “Ooh Laura you’re more than a superstar” and you’re immediately wrapped up in her emotion. Living up to its title, The Haunted Man is, in fact, pretty haunting, a collection of well crafted indie pop tracks shrouded in a haze of ominous, hypnotic sounds you might hear in a particularly spooky graveyard during a full moon. With this album Khan proves she has the potential to hang with the songwriting elite; her main sources of inspiration—-Bjork, Kate Bush, PJ Harvey—-should all be very proud mamas. [Bernard]

Killer Mike – R.A.P. Music

Before Run the Jewels took over and won the hearts of hipsters worldwide, El-P and Killer Mike collaborated on dual solo albums released in 2012 under their individual monikers. Killer Mike laid down his hard-hitting flow on El-P’s Cancer 4 Cure, while the NYC producer/rapper whipped up the beats for Mike’s R.A.P. Music. The latter is an old-school record with heavy, neo-boom-bap beats masterminded by Producto that fit snugly with the Atlanta emcee’s no-nonsense, in-yo-muhfuckin-face flow. “Butane” is a perfect example of the odd couple’s strength as a team, a shot-to-the-face of a track that stomps around like a T-rex and is guaranteed to terrorize your neighborhood should you bump it in your car loud enough.

Mike’s emerged as a light human rights activist in recent years, writing an op-ed in Billboard magazine and appearing on CNN in reaction to the Ferguson shootings. R.A.P. Music reflects his impassioned socio-political stances in the form of “Reagan,” a searing indictment of the U.S. government and its costly obsession with foreign oil. The album’s full of ass-kickers, like the unforgettable intro “Big Beast” in which Mike announces with his shotgun baritone and a clenched fist, “Hardore G shit, homie I don’t play around.” No, he doesn’t. No one says it better than Kendrick Lamar: “Critics want to mention that they miss when hip-hop was rappin’/motherfucker, if you did, then Killer Mike would be platinum.” [Bernard]

Janelle Monáe – The ArchAndroid

As far as first impressions go, Janelle Monáe’s The ArchAndroid is about as good as it gets. She was 24 years old and one of the newest signees at Bad Boy when her debut full-length studio album dropped, and she immediately caught the ears and eyes (check out her blistering performance of “Tightrope” on Letterman if you haven’t seen that awesomeness) of music lovers across the world and across genre lines. Soul kids, indie rock kids, hip-hop heads; they all loved Miss Monáe with equal amounts of passion, and the enthusiasm was out of respect for how freakin’ amazing her album was, front to back.

The ArchAndroid is a gigantic, sprawling production that’ll take you on the ride of your life, touching on more emotions and sounds and music genres than you can shake a stick at. Songs like the irresistible “Dance or Die,” the anthemic “Cold War,” and the relentless “Tightrope” are speedy and thrilling and have a scintillating sense of locomotion; more whimsical tracks, like the lilting “Oh, Maker” and “Wondaland,” slow things down and take you to a funky, colorful paradise. It’s hard not to think of the great Lauryn Hill as a direct precursor to Monáe—-they both had terrific debut albums and transcend genres—-but the young “mini mogul” (she’s got a label of her own now, Wondaland Records) looks to have a longevity Hill unfortunately never attained. [Bernard]

tUnE-yArDs – W H O K I L L

A term ascribed to Merrill Garbus’ tUnE-yArDs often is “kooky.” The word fits: the alternating capital letters, lack of immediately obvious meaning, and seemingly unnecessary dash in the middle of her moniker suggest the eccentric, outlandish nature of her music. Certainly, her sound is bizarre, and quite often divisive among listeners, but W H O K I L L unites her oddball tendencies with intensely catchy, fiery songwriting. It’s not just dumb luck that this album catapulted her to the forefront of blogosphere stardom: the LP is a gripping, ear-popping account of independence and protest delivered in one of the most urgent voices in recent memory. Opener “My Country” hints at the topics ahead with its opening mantra: “My country ‘tis of thee/sweet love of liberty/how come I cannot see my future within your arms?”

The booming, unorthodox percussion and peripheral vocal harmony loops also offers foresight into the album’s novel, alarming sonic palette: Garbus often sings, shouts, yelps, hollers, drums, or strums (on an electric ukulele, not a guitar) several different parts into a looping machine and arranges them into cascades of stomping, direct force. The hood politics of “Gangsta” arrive surrounded by wails intertwined in a cat’s cradle of loops; the skitter of “Doorstep” derives solely from Garbus’ playing; “Powa” blesses her ukulele with the emotional depth of a traditional guitar. Even more idiosyncratic is trailblazing favorite “Bizness,” a fierce, riotous anthem for anyone who’s ever suffered for reasons out of their control. If the sonics of W H O K I L L don’t arrest you, let the words do the talking. [Max]

The National – High Violet

If Wilco is the preeminent “Great American Band,” the guys in The National are the slightly younger runners-up. They’ve been making critically acclaimed, notoriously glum music since the turn of the century, churning out great albums like 2005’s  Alligator and 2007’s incredible Boxer, touring the country seemingly non-stop all the while. In 2010, they released High Violet, their fifth studio album which, despite continuing the band’s tradition of writing “sad bastard” music, was a triumph in that it showed an improved, refined version of their patented sound without pandering to fans who constantly begged for them to “cheer up.”

If you ask the band, they’ll tell you there’s always been a sense of humor about their pathos. In a 2010 interview on CBC radio, guitarist Aaron Dessner explained this misconception, using the song “Conversation 16” as a reference point. “When Matt [Berninger, lead singer] says, ‘I was afraid I’d eat your brains,’ there is something dark and weird about that line, but it’s also kind of funny.” The lyrical content on High Violet, written by Berninger, is undeniably dour and sometimes frightening, but musically, the Dessner twins created some uncharacteristically bright and infectious tunes, like the lead single, “Bloodbuzz Ohio,” whose syncopated groove and bright piano accents sound more pop rock than sob rock. Few bands sound as grandiose and exhilarating as The National does when they reach the height of crescendos on epics like “Terrible Love” and “England,” and High Violet’s soaring sonic foundation makes it their most accessible album in their catalogue. [Bernard]

Sharon Van Etten – Are We There?

Those who familiarized themselves with our Best Songs of the Decade So Far feature shouldn’t be too surprised to see Sharon Van Etten popping up here. I take special enjoyment in it myself, since Van Etten’s “Your Love Is Killing Me” (from this same album) was a personal pick. Brooklyn-based Van Etten has been rising in prominence within the indie rock community in New York and the rest of the U.S. for a few years now, but few expected the kind of attention her last album received. Except, of course, those who’ve never doubted the limits she was destined to reach. Are We There ended up on several year-end best lists, and gave the singer-songwriter her first real taste of fame. The first-time access to a big studio helped Van Etten in the only area she needed improving: production. Now, she’s able to pour her heart out about love, loss, and longing in a way that emphasizes her emphatic vocal range while imbuing the entire mood of Are We There in a coating of grandiose melancholia. Besides the song I’ve already discussed last month, the album is filled with Van Etten’s signature heart-on-sleeve approach, accompanied by mournful pianos, guitars, and drums; other stand outs include the lullaby-like “Our Love,” and “You Know Me Well” where she makes the simplest of lyrics, “You know me well/You show me hell when I’m looking/And here you are/Looking,” drip with immense pathos. Then there are tracks like “Break Me;” shining examples of how far Van Etten has gone in terms of having appropriate production that enable her songs to resonate with more gut-punching force. Equally intimate and universal, Are We There is a must for everyone who’s felt the pangs of love, and one of the greatest examples of how loss can be turned into an exceptionally creative outlet. [Nik]

Vampire Weekend – Modern Vampires of the City

I enjoyed Vampire Weekend’s first two LPs thoroughly, and I half expected their third album, Modern Vampires of the City, to be a bit of a letdown, partly because I found their skills as musicians limited, but mostly because I’m a recovering pessimist. I was proven wrong once I gave the album a spin: The indie pop kings from New York City upped every facet of their game, from their playing, to lead singer Ezra Koenig’s singing, to their writing. Exploring themes like faith, mortality, and lost love, the band seems to have grown up considerably in this, the final chapter in a trilogy of great records.

The most notable aspect of Modern Vampires is the earthy, warm quality of the recordings themselves. Utilizing analog equipment whenever possible, the band sidestepped their signature Afro-inspired sound, embracing a more measured, chamber pop style. The heart-meltingly pretty opening track, “Obvious Bicycle,” immediately shows off Koenig’s full range of vocal ability as he gently hums, “You ought to spare yourself the razor/because no one’s going to spare the time for you.” Lyrically, the band’s breached a whole new stratosphere, crafting humble gems like, “I was born to live without you/but I’m never going to understand/hold me in your everlasting arms.” “Hanna Hunt” is one of the best songs they’ve ever written, a quiet interlude charting a lover’s gradual, coast-to-coast dissolution. My pessimism’s been purged; I’ll be anticipating whatever Vampire Weekend offers up with a hopeful smile and bated breath. [Bernard]

Spoon – They Want My Soul

Back when They Want My Soul dropped last August, there was much ado about things that really didn’t matter. Yes, the LP was the band’s first in four years (frontman Britt Daniel had a stint in the Divine Fits in the interim, where he nabbed Alex Fischel as Spoon’s new keyboardist). And yes, there was a fun title track, ripe for interpretation, about all the haters that want Daniel’s soul. But none of that is why we’re talking about this album nearly a year later.

In a year dominated by breakout electronic producers, They Want My Soul serves as one of the strongest reminders that the classic indie rock setup can still produce one hell of a worthwhile listen. It’s got the technical prowess and cohesion you’d expect from an entry on a year-end list (surely producer Dave Fridmann, known for his work with The Flaming Lips, deserves a nod), but more importantly, Spoon doesn’t just find their sound—they have a whole lot of fun with it. Whether it’s that killer bridge taking us up an octave in “Rainy Taxi” or the unhinged distortion in “Knock Knock Knock,” Spoon fills their latest with nuggets of ear candy that make re-listens feel varied and new.

Their optimistic moments have that slight reservation that comes with experience, but there also seems to be a new freedom: the one that comes from letting go of expectations. Screw whatever you thought of the Spoon of yesteryear—they’ve certainly let go of any demons tugging at their soul. As a result, They Want My Soul is both a standout in the band’s 20-year catalog and a well-deserved #12 for us. [Susan]

Beach House – Bloom

Beach House’s career arc from their self-titled debut to third album Teen Dream guided their gradual ascent to legends of dream pop melancholy, heartache, and cosmic resonance. Bloom, the Baltimore duo’s fourth album, is far more optimistic than its predecessors, a shift that few expected. A daring change, in lesser hands it could’ve been a disaster, but Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally can’t help but write tragedy and affliction into even their most beaming songs. Bloom retains the husky, breathy vocals that defined Legrande as the rebirth of Nico to a generation of young music lovers, and recasts Scally’s slide and tremolo-picked guitar beauty as the sound of hope after defeat rather than misery after failure. Where past tracks might wallow in their own deep sadness to unparalleled avail, Bloom tunes including “Wild” and “The Hours” strive upwards from down in their pits. “Wishes” sounds straight up grateful in comparison to the pain of past releases, “New Year” bleeds with resolve, and “Lazuli” shines as brightly as the gem for which it’s named. For all the drastic reductions in woe present, Beach House’s sound differs only somewhat; here, they grow gradually without entirely shedding their skin. Bloom couldn’t be a more appropriate title. [Max]

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

View Other Lists of this Feature:
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 (#10 – #1)

Today we present #30-21 of our Best Albums of 2010-2014 list. This is the middle section of our list: twenty songs precede it, and twenty songs come after it. We think you’ll find these ten to be incredibly strong contributions of the past five years, which really ought to get you extra excited for what’s to come tomorrow and Friday. With music this good, its hard to imagine things get better. But we assure you they do. Let us know if you think we’ve made wise choices thus far, and listen to all of today’s best albums on our accompanying Spotify playlist.

Best 50 Albums Of The Decade So Far (#30-#21)

First Aid Kit – The Lion’s Roar

I like to imagine that if Fleet Foxes had two younger sisters who spent summers in the country with their Auntie Neko Case, they would sound like First Aid Kit. Of course, no such familial ties exist, but musical ties certainly do.

Most obviously: harmony. Johanna and Klara Söderberg spend much of The Lion’s Roar harmonizing wonderfully through verse, chorus and bridge. The bright tonality and rich quality of their vocals are the true backbone of this album. Though any of the ten songs on The Lion’s Roar could back this point up, “To a Poet,” a track punctuated by sporadic and particularly beautiful harmonies, really shows Johanna and Klara’s cohesion as vocalists, while “New Year’s Eve” sees them at their echoing, raging best.

Clearly this album is worth the time of any fan of alternative country, but this beautiful songwriting really needs to be heard by fans of all genres. The lyrics are thoughtful without excess, and they’re refreshingly memorable and clear at a time when fuzzy lo-fi bands let their words sink into the mix. You know, sometimes a good ol’ roar does the trick, too. [Susan]

Sharon Van Etten – Tramp

“There was your breath / on the back of my neck / the only one holding / the only one I had felt in years.” Lyrics like that are emotive and cinematic on their own, but in the hands (or rather, lungs) of Sharon Van Etten, they can move mountains. Tramp, the Brooklyn-based songwriter’s third solo album, is a study in raw artistic expression; Van Etten sounds as if she’s sitting beside us, sharing her darkest secrets about the ravages of love. These are break-up songs, but not girly ones sung by a petty teenage girl with zero life experience (you know who I’m talking about). Van Etten sounds like a woman, writes like a woman and commands respect because she writes with maturity. Every song is a doozy, from the roaring “Serpents,” to the tender “Leonard,” to my personal favorite, the stripped-down “We Are Fine.” Her best outing yet. [Bernard]

The National – Trouble Will Find Me

The National’s rise to indie-rock kingpins did not happen overnight. After five albums and a handful of EPs, the band finally reached a career peak with the release of Trouble Will Find Me.

The band’s sixth full-length was the perfect combination of elements from their previous five records without seeming trite: their usual darkly romantic lyricism (when I walk into a room / I do not light it up), their chamber-pop instrumentation (the strings in “This Is The Last Time”), their unconventional rhythms (the shifting time signature of “I Should Live In Salt”), and their classically inspired complex arrangements courtesy of the Dessner brothers (the intricate melodies of “Sea Of Love”).

While certain aspects of Trouble Will Find Me take after the band’s previous works, the highlight, at least to me, was the unpretentious array of guest instrumentals from Sufjan Stevens and Arcade Fire’s Richard Reed Parry to back-up vocals from Sharon Van Etten and St. Vincent mastermind Annie Clark.

It’s hard to listen to Trouble Will Find Me without thinking, “Yeah, so this is some sort of masterclass in indie music.” [Susan]

Death Grips – The Money Store

Experimental hip-hop trio Death Grips assured us they had disbanded last year. Then, they released a bunch of music and hinted that a tour might be on the way with a cryptic YouTube video of them rehearsing. They’re weirdos. The Sacramento-based outfit are outcasts not just in hip-hop, but in the music industry in general, dropping records whenever they please, and on their own terms. Their sound is notoriously glitchy and chaotic and often impenetrable, but their first studio album, The Money Store, is arguably their catchiest and most approachable work of all. I’d also argue it’s their best. MC Ride’s violent, bellowing delivery and surrealist lyrics mesmerize on standout tracks “Hacker” and “Fuck That,” and the firecracker opener “Get Got” might be the closest thing Death Grips have resembling a radio hit. This is the perfect entryway album for one of the most insane groups to hit the rap scene in years. [Bernard]

Cloud Nothings – Here and Nowhere Else

In 2012, Dylan Baldi pulled a fast one on his fans, renovating Cloud Nothings’ from a lo-fi pop band into a noise punk outfit. That year’s Attack on Memory remains one of the decade’s most brooding garage rock albums; follow-up Here and Nowhere Else casts some sun on that LP’s sound, but this light is filtered through a semi-thick layer of clouds. Its songs are somewhat more upbeat and significantly more optimistic than on Attack on Memory, but it remains a hostile, fiery collection. “Quieter Today” distills Baldi’s punk ferocity with a blanket of melodic hope; “No Thoughts” breeds both contentment and angst with its vibrant yet deranged power chords; “I’m Not Part of Me” recasts ’90s power pop as a blazing, confident rumble. The mixture of bliss and rage Baldi achieves here is in part indebted to his band’s increased technical proficiency, particularly in the percussive section. Drummer Jason Gerycz ranks among the most vicious, brutal drummers playing today, and his manic performances embolden Here and Nowhere Else with the frantic presence contrasting its more vivid chord progressions. A feat in both sound and performance, Here and Nowhere Else distinguishes itself potently among its fellow punk albums of the decade. [Max]

Chromatics – Kill for Love

Like many musical non-aficionados, I was first introduced to the Chromatics through Nicholas Winding Refn’s Drive, which opened my ears to the band’s evocative sound thanks to their song “Tick of the Clock” featured in the film. This song led to me discover their fourth studio album, Kill For Love, long after the band had gone through their own musical evolution, from rock-influenced noisy punk to Italo disco-influenced synthpunk in the early 2000s. Though it takes three men to create the band’s special aural aesthetic—Adam Miller, Johnny Jewel, and Nat Walker—it’s tough to think about anyone or anything else while listening to Ruth Radelet, and feeling her get under your skin with her beguiling amarantine voice. “Into The Black” and “Candy” are perfect examples. But it’s not all Radelet, though. Instrumentals like “There’s A Light Out At The Horizon” showcase the Chromatics’ powerful soundscapes without the support of their main voice. Kill For Love drips with melancholic romance, and sheaths the listener in an everlasting embrace of silky retro sounds. [Nik]

Alt-J – An Awesome Wave

Gwil Sainsbury, Joe Newman, Gus Unger-Hamilton, and Thom Green formed Alt-J in 2007, but didn’t release their debut album until 4 years later. These years gave them the time to hone in their unique sound, one where bass doesn’t factor in too much since they were mostly practicing in student halls and couldn’t make too much noise. Instead, the heavily electro-influenced production values places emphasis on impossibly melodious synth lines, Newman’s peculiar vocals, and a refreshingly unpredictable song structure. Take “Breezeblocks,” for example. Neither its infectious hook or Newman’s falsetto can prepare you for what comes after the two-minute mark, and the “please don’t go, please don’t go, I love you so” chant that injects the track with an incredible kind of energy. With tracks like this, and other stand outs like “Something Good,” “Matilda,” and “Fitzpleasure,” An Awesome Wave washed over indie rock soundwaves in 2011 and heralded Alt-J in an exciting way, representing a shining example of a refreshingly new take on contemporary indie. Accompanying the familiar quarter of keyboard, guitar, drum, and single vocal are samples, electro twitches, and harmonious duets between Newman and Unger-Hamilton, infusing the album with an atmosphere that soothes eardrums with every listen. [Nik]

Purity Ring – Shrines

In a decade when “dark” evolved into an overused, superficial descriptor, Purity Ring may be the outfit best-suited to the word. Corin Roddick’s unnerving, bleak dashes of wide, sprawling synths and Megan James’ anatomical, disturbing lyricism casts absolutely no light on the romances inspiring the songs on their debut Shrines. The album gives a sonic form to the visual of a face-deformed monster rising from a black, nameless murk and following terrified victims around everywhere—but the twist is, this beast seeks love, not the infliction of pain. Sure, Megan James demands that the subject of club-rattling career highlight “Fineshrine” which goes, “cut open my sternum and pull/my little ribs around you,” but this gory image desires as deep an intimacy as humanly possible rather than the sociopathic pouring of blood. Likewise, when James commands that a lover take full control over her body over the trap skitter of “Saltkin,” she seeks a human connection that transcends what our physical existence can provide. She conveys beautiful ideas in deceptively unsettling words, just as Roddick delivers eerily mobile instrumentals with surprisingly intricate arrangements. Although darkness dominates on Shrines, light shines through with consecutive listens, and this constantly growing lens invites listeners back for endless replays. [Max]

M83 – Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming

“I’m slowly drifting to you/The stars and the planets/Are calling me/A billion years away from you…” so go the lyrics to M83’s “My Tears Are Becoming A Sea,” a track no amount of movie trailers can possibly ruin. These words perfectly encapsulate the transporting and cinematic quality of M83’s music, and his 2011 double album, Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming is more of an intergalactic space voyage commandeered by a child’s exuberant energy than just another album. We singled out “Midnight City” in our Top 50 Songs of the Decade So Far feature last month, but once you play both discs it’s almost impossible to separate any part from the whole experience; even the short intermission-style tracks like “Another Wave From You” and “This Bright Flash” feel necessary and add further dimension to a fantastically realized project. Then, of course, tracks like “Reconte-Moi Historie” on the first disc, and “Echoes of Mine” on the second disc, enhance the storytelling and nostalgic aspects with a beautiful balance of subtle vocals and tremendously spirited production. You’d be forgiven if you thought M83 was 10 people after listening to Hurry Up, but it all comes from the imagination and creative talent of Frenchman Anthony Gonzales, inspired by his new home-city of Los Angeles, and realizing his dream of completing a double album that’s not too long and places more emphasis on emotion than narrative. It’s easily the most gloriously sonorous album of the decade so far. [Nik]

Crystal Castles – II

II is truly a strange album. It features—each in a different song—no wave punk, droning metal, explosive industrial, flowery electro-pop, nightmarish rave, slowly expanding IDM, and overwhelming glitch. Cohesion is exactly the opposite of what drives II, yet each of its fourteen songs fits incredibly well under the same roof, resulting in Crystal Castles’ best album, and one of the decade’s most memorable electronic LPs. Surprising in description, the success of its scattered nature makes sense when listening to the album, since each and every song is thoroughly enjoyable despite the lack of common threads among them. Neon light anthem “Empathy,” muddy metal snippet “Birds,” and horror film rave blast “Baptism” sound like the word of three different acts, but since each is a wildly resonant piece of music, Crystal Castles is able to include them, as well as fanged screamer “Doe Deer,” glitch journey “Intimate,” and heartwarming dance tune “Suffocation,” on the same album, one for which solely they are responsible. II restores meaning to the phrase “there’s something for everyone here”: really, anyone who even distantly enjoys electronic music is bound to obsess over something they hear on this album. [Max]

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

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

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)

Considering Mistaken for Strangers centers around the well-known indie rock band The National (the title of the documentary comes from one of their songs), it would be safe to assume that fans of the band will get the most out of the documentary. But that’s not necessarily the case here. There are only a handful of scenes devoted to watching the band perform and the film does a great job at getting those unfamiliar with the band up to speed. Although the film bills itself as a “rock-doc”, it’s more about sibling dynamics and dealing with fame than it is about The National.

The National could be called a band of brothers. Between the five members, there are two sets of brothers, Bryan and Scott Devendorf and Aaron and Bryce Dessner. Mistaken for Strangers is directed by the lead singer’s (Matt Berninger) brother Tom, who is the only brother not in the band. Tom is pretty much the exact opposite of his older and much more successful brother; he is heavier, single, starving for attention, prefers heavy metal to pretentious indie rock, still living at home with mom and dad, and despite good intentions he rarely completes anything he starts. Tom hasn’t quite figured out what to do in life, but feeling some internal pressure to accomplish something leads him to pursue his interest in filmmaking by making a documentary about the band.

Matt is assigned to follow the band around on tour for a year to be their interim touring assistant. Early on he is told his duties include gathering the band five minutes before the show, making sure plenty of food and water is available, and remain on call in case something goes wrong on stage. Most importantly he is there to work, not to party. These tasks seem fairly simple but when he neglects his responsibilities in favor of recording footage for this documentary, Tom becomes more of a liability than an asset for the band.

Even though the documentary feels like a stream of conscience of Tom’s unorganized thoughts, this actually works to its advantage. His spontaneous interview questions catch the various band members off guard as they are asked questions that they don’t normally get like, “How famous do you think you are?” and “Do you carry your wallet onstage with you?” which are equal parts ridiculous and intriguing. Haphazard planning works to Tom’s benefit for once as he creates an honest and raw self-discovery experience that he may not have gotten from a perfectly organized procedure.

Mistaken for Strangers starts out as a straightforward rock-doc, but it doesn’t end that way. A lot of credit is likely owed to Matt’s wife Carin, a former editor of The New Yorker, who serves as a co-editor here. At some point during the editing process they realized the documentary was going to be more about the relationship between the brothers than a profile on the band. The decision to include Tom’s breakdown during the editing process not only makes Mistaken for Strangers emotionally touching, but gives it a meta quality–a documentary about making a documentary. This is an example of how nifty editing can positively rework an ordinary film into something more profound.

Despite the amount of time Tom spends on tour with The National, Mistaken for Strangers unexpectedly results in a candid introspection on himself instead of the band. Tom is a rather fascinating subject as an insecure artist struggling to crawl out of his brother’s famous rock star shadow. Even if his success never equals his brother’s, he can be proud to have completed his project, and one that is undeniably entertaining.

Starz Digital Media, the digital distribution subsidiary of Starz, has picked up the rights to two Tribeca standouts: Tom Berninger’s Mistaken For Strangers, a docu-comedy based on Americana rock group The National, and Trust Me, a comedy helmed by and starring Clark Gregg (The Avengers).

In Mistaken For Strangers,we follow Berninger, a slacker, aspiring horror director, heavy metal enthusiast, and younger brother of Matt Berninger, lead singer of The National (the film’s title is taken from one of the band’s songs). When Matt invites Tom to travel with the band on tour as a roadie, Tom decides to capture his on-road experience on camera. He becomes so wrapped up in documenting the trip that he neglects his roadie duties, consequently ticking off his brother and causing a rift between them.

The film should be a treat for fans of the band (they have droves), and its meta nature has garnered it a healthy amount of buzz, most notably from Michael Moore, who said it is “one of the best documentaries about a band that I’ve ever seen.” The National have recently been nominated for a Grammy for their excellent 2013 release, Trouble Will Find Me. Starz has set the theatrical and on-demand release date for March 28th.

ABOVE: Matt and Tom Berninger in Mistaken For Strangers

In Trust Me, director Clark Gregg, who’s been seen in several Marvel Studios productions, most recently the ABC series Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., also stars in the film as a struggling agent for child actors who finds a potential star in a 13-year-old boy.

Though Gregg’s first directorial effort, the Chuck Palahniuk adaptation Choke, wasn’t met with much critical or commercial success, he’s proven himself a formidable talent in his roles as Agent Caulson in the the Marvel movies, and as Leonato in Joss Whedon’s mini-budget Shakespeare retelling, Much Ado About Nothing. Starz Digital will release Trust Me in May, one month prior to its theatrical release.