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)

We’ve now reached the peak of this tall mountain. The final 10 songs on our 50 Best Songs of the Decade So Far list is upon us. These songs are all modern classics, and have defined the decade’s music thus far. Years from now, music lovers will think of many songs when they look back upon this era, but these ten are especially likely to come to mind. It’ll be interesting to see if, at the end of the decade, they are still held in such high regard, but for now, these songs have impressed us, as well as hundreds of thousands of other listeners, more than the rest of the music we’ve heard so far this decade.

In addition to our Top 10, we’ve included a section at the bottom we call Passionate Orphans. Songs that are personal favorites and worthy of respect, but that we couldn’t fit and couldn’t leave unmentioned.

Enjoy the list and our accompanying Spotify playlist, including one conveniently containing all 50 songs. Be on the look out for our Best Albums of the Decade So Far list in the coming weeks!

Best 50 Songs Of The Decade So Far
(#10 – #1)

Kanye West – “New Slaves”

Kanye West has been the king of rap for quite some time—almost single handedly reshaping the face of the genre, with both his productions and collaborations. When Yeezus was released upon the world in 2013 it wasn’t tracks like “I Am a God” that surprised the most, it was “Black Skinhead” and “New Slaves,” a pair of superheated songs with aggression so evocative and raw it was a new high, even for Kanye. The stand out, though, is obviously “New Slaves,” a bouncy and lyrically-acrobatic shoulder to the chest that fits perfectly into West’s continual progression at the frontlines of hip hop. Kanye has never been afraid to tone things down, but here the composition is utterly stark, with only a distant thunder of bass, leaving the highly confrontational and politically assertive lyrics to take center stage. The only problem? If West keeps hitting homers like this, he might just deserve that ego. [Gary]

Tame Impala – “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards”

If psychedelic pop perfection were captured in a three-minute bubble, it might sound like this. John Lennon would smile widely if he were around to hear “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards,” or maybe, on the other hand, he would sue for copyright infringement; no one since The Beatles has sounded this much like them. But Kevin Parker isn’t merely copying drug-era Beatles here; rather, he’s taking its best qualities (so, almost all its qualities) and condensing them into a crystalline, gorgeous, infectious pop anthem. “Every part of me says go ahead,” Parker’s falsetto states as it glides over sheets of swirling synths, bubbling psychedelia, and a bass line that never quits. Going ahead is exactly what “Feels” excels in: as this song progresses, it becomes more and more infectious, each subsequent chorus increasing substantially in emotional impact. The key is that the first chorus is already wildly hooky; that the song manages to deliver this statement with more success time and time again is absolutely dizzying. [Max]

M.I.A – “Bad Girls”

No one else has quite brought world music influences to pop prominence like musical wunderkind M.I.A. The multi- talented artist Maya “M.I.A.” Arulpragasam has been a boundary breaking badass for quite some time, skyrocketing to prominence with 2008’s decade-encapsulating track “Paper Planes”—a song everyone knows and hardly anyone knows the lyrics to.

So while she never really went away, M.I.A. came back swinging in 2012 with another genre crushing song. “Bad Girls” is a natural fit in the progressive catalog for the international artist; a song designed perfectly for the time and filling a void that the world hadn’t even known was empty. Not only that, but beneath the glossy, bass packed surface, “Bad Girls” is shockingly empowering, its lyrics loud and clear here, “Live fast, die young, bad girls do it well.” It’s only a matter of time before “Bad Girls” becomes the genre-defining track that it deserves to be. [Gary]

LCD Soundsystem – “Dance Yrself Clean”

How in the world do you compose something so intimate and epic into a 8+ minute track that could never, ever, wear out its welcome? I’ve got no idea, but the recently disbanded LCD Soundsystem sure as hell did. James Murphy and his bandmates kicked off their ultimate album, This Is Happening, with this 8-minute dance-punk cacophonous hybrid that almost sounds like it attempts to exorcise every dancing demon out of the listener’s body. Of course, while Murphy’s vocals and humorous lyrics (“Talking like a jerk/Except you are an actual jerk/And living proof/That sometimes friends are mean”) align perfectly with the production’s primal drum patting, it’s really that moment at 1:40, when the little electronic melody crashes the party in the most beguiling of ways, when “Dance Yrself Clean” triumphantly shimmies its way into the decade’s top-shelf songs. And it goes up (and loud) from there. By the 3 minute mark, the song is unleashed into a dance delirium, and if you’ve done the mistake of increasing the volume on your headphones before, LCD Soundsystem makes you pay for it. In the best way possible. [Nik]

Crystal Castles – “Not in Love (feat. Robert Smith)”

How do you make your song better? Throw Robert Smith on it, of course. Crystal Castles originally covered this Platinum Blondes song on their second self-titled album, with the vocals distorted and warbled to the point of being barely discernible. When they released it as a single, someone had the brilliant idea of letting Robert Smith sing on the track, and the results speak for themselves. Putting Smith on the song is an inspired choice, considering how influential his work has been on bands like Crystal Castles. So naturally his voice fits like a glove, with his mournful vocals elevating the song into another dimension. “Not in Love” goes to show that great songs can sometimes be improved upon in the most surprising of ways. [C.J.]

Beach House – “Myth”

If you were to ask me who the standout musicians of the decade are, so far, my answer would come without so much as a blink of an eye: Beach House. Baltimore duo Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally have been around since the mid aughts, but with Teen Dream in 2010, followed by Bloom in 2012, Beach House redefined the boundaries of dream pop, and reinvigorated my love for the genre. Their first single from Bloom, “Myth,” is as good example as any of the kind of deep, oceanic, emotions the duo successfully reach, in tremendously moving fashion. There’s no other band out there, with the range of Legrand’s voice, and the knack for Scally’s unquenchable melodies, that could make verses like “Found yourself in a new direction/Arrows falling from the sun/Canyon calling would come to greet you/Let you know you’re not the only one” sound like they’re speaking directly to we the listeners. When Legrand sings it, the feeling of loneliness dissipates, because we feel it right down to our marrow. And isn’t that what it’s all about? [Nik]

Grimes – “Oblivion”

Did you know that indie electronic’s club anthem of the decade so far is actually a song about recovering from the trauma of sexual assault? With a groove this thick and steady, “Oblivion” at first masks its important, poignant message. Initial listens of this song entrap willing ears with demonically robotic synths, mechanical percussion, a horrifyingly eerie ambience, and uneasy, fairy-like vocals courtesy of Claire Boucher, the woman behind Grimes. Later listens allow Boucher’s words to crystallize: “Coming up behind you/always coming and you’d never have a clue”, sung hauntingly in the first verse, indicates that “I see you on a dark night”, during the chorus, is directed at a shadowy figure following her home; “When you’re running by yourself/it’s hard to find someone to hold your hand” is likewise completely unromantic, instead detailing the hell of keeping oneself safe from such a figure. The tense situation Boucher describes explodes into catharsis with one minute and forty-five seconds left in the song, when the synths begin to sound like they too are speaking words. If even the instrumentation is trying to say something, there’s no doubting that the message is important. That it’s delivered with arguably the most incessantly replayable synthscape of the decade is just a perk. [Max]

Vampire Weekend – “Hannah Hunt”

The most chilling track on Vampire Weekend’s 2013 album “Modern Vampires of the City,” “Hannah Hunt” is a hushed (until the end) breakup song that stretches from the freezing beaches of the East coast to the shores of Santa Barbara. Ezra Koenig all but whispers the lyrics throughout the sleepy, sparse first two minutes of the track, as if he’s singing with eyes half-closed. Then, the percussion swells and his voice leaps up an octave, shrieking, “if I can’t trust you then damn it, Hannah / there’s no future there’s no answer.” This is Vampire Weekend at their most confident and polished, embracing minimalist presentation and asymmetrical structure while honoring their African music inspirations and keeping up that geographical predilection they just can’t let go of. [Bernard]

Azealia Banks – “212”

Hip-hop has been maligned time after time for containing excessive profanity, so when even the world’s foremost rap critics and listeners were taken aback with the amount of explicit material in “212,” Azealia Banks’ debut single, everyone paid attention. Banks absolutely owns the word “cunt” on this song, whether reclaiming it as a neutral term (“I guess that cunt getting eaten”) or stabbing her opponents with it (“Imma ruin you, cunt”). “Cunt” isn’t the only thing she takes control of, though; she also commands the entirety of Lazy Jay’s “Float My Boat,” a house track created with absolutely no intention for Banks to use it without permission. Hell, Lazy Jay probably had no idea who Banks was when he first heard that a self-described “rude bitch” from Harlem ripped his song, but it all worked out in the end: yep, “212” sounds so great that he got on board, and is now credited on the song. Maybe that’s because Banks not only sings, raps, and screams on “212,” but she does each at the exact moment in the song where it fits best. “This shit been mine!” Banks proclaims during the chorus, but she doesn’t have to say it: this song proves it beyond all doubt. [Max]

FKA twigs – “Two Weeks”

“Two Weeks” was Way Too Indie’s favorite song of 2014, and it remains at the top when we look at the decade in music so far. Really, though, how could it not? This song is nothing short of majestic, an accumulation of everything that trip-hop, R&B, and electronic music have all striven towards this decade. The crystalline synth oscillations and pulsating, deep percussion outline trip-hop’s noblest goals; FKA twigs’ celestial vocal vibratos outdo those of most of her many peers; the song’s overwhelming digital sheen demarcates one of electronic music’s foremost objectives. Then there are the lyrics; in addition to the great sonic template, here we have maybe the strongest example of a woman owning her sexuality and not letting society’s double standard silence her desires. “I can fuck you so much better,” twigs seethes towards an object of desire; “give me two weeks, you won’t recognize her” is an even more sensual threat, one for which twigs reaches towards some of the higher parts of her register. But she saves the highest section for the line “my thighs are apart for when you’re ready to breathe in,” putting everyone on alert, just as a good song should do. We already knew that sex sells, but “Two Weeks” teaches us that owning it is different than buying it. [Max]

Listen to These Songs on Spotify

CJ’s Passionate Orphans (Twins!)

Low – “Nothing But Heart”
Nadia Oh – “Taking Over the Dancefloor”
I couldn’t even begin to count how many songs I tried to fit on this list, so reducing things down to a few passionate picks is even tougher for me. But one song I knew would crush me if it didn’t make it on the list was Low’s “Nothing But Heart.” It’s an eight-minute epic that only has three lines before Alan Sparhawk repeats the line “I’m nothing but heart” a couple dozen times. Sure, it sounds boring, but it’s an achingly beautiful song that builds and builds until it soars. By the end, you’ll want to join in and yell “I’m nothing but heart” along with the band.

Saying that, let me awkwardly segue into my next pick: Nadia Oh’s “Taking Over the Dancefloor.” I don’t have a lot of words left, so let me be blunt: Nadia Oh deserves to be a massive pop star. Her music is like a weird version of pop from an alternate universe, a completely bonkers bastardization of current pop trends that turns into something wholly singular. Just trust me on this one.

Max’s Passionate Orphan

Cloud Nothings – “Wasted Days”
​It’s one thing to recast your lo-fi bedroom pop act as a doom-bearing noise punk project; it’s another to place a nine-minute anthem of angst, dissonance, and dejection as the second of eight tracks on the album marking this unexpected transition. “Wasted Days” actually wastes no time at all; each and every one of this song’s sprawling 494 seconds makes listeners fully inhabit songwriter, guitarist, and vocalist Dylan Baldi’s terror. The cutting chords and slow drum build of its brief intro give way to a lacerating, whipping verse lined with Baldi’s nasal, howling vocals and defeated, exhausted lyrics. “I thought/I would/be more/than this,” goes this song’s straightforwardly anthemic chorus, which Baldi whines its first two times.

This already visceral approach becomes even more gut-wrenching and undeniable during the five-minute noise breakdown separating the second chorus from the third. Just before this final chorus arrives, there’s a bit of a crescendo, over which Baldi transitions from muttering his chorus to absolutely screaming it. In this ultimate moment, Baldi achieves a catharsis unlike any previously heard in noise rock, as will any and all listeners brave and strong enough to endure this incredible song’s hurricane-like nine minutes.

Nik’s Passionate Orphans (Twins!)

Sharon Van Etten – “Your Love Is Killing Me”
Father John Misty – “Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings”
Sharon Van Etten has been around smokey underground bars since her album debut in 2009. Slowly but surely, through wondrously introspective and heart-aching songs like “Love More” (from 2010) and “I’m Wrong” (from 2012’s Tramp), she rose through indie folk ranks, and captured hearts with her whispery, sonorous, voice. “Your Love Is Killing Me” from her latest, Are We There, solidifies her status as one of the greatest women armed with a guitar. Naturally it helps that she’s reached a point where she has major studio access because this single is as big room in its absurdly effective chorus, as it is intimate in its quavering, soul-searching, verses. The way she lingers on the repeated “you” in the second verse, before “Stabs my eyes so I can see” ascends to a magnificent melody perfectly tuned to Van Etten’s matchless voice, makes “Your Love Is Killing Me” one of her greatest accomplishments. Here’s a song about painful love that has no substitutes.

Joining Van Etten in my orphanage is Father John Misty’s “Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings.” In 2012 J. Tillman released the album Fear Fun under his self-appointed alter ego Father John Misty, after a shroom-stocked road trip. While the whole album is recommended, there’s no song as hypnotic, instantly memorable, and gratifying right down to the core as the psychoactively titled “Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings.” The lyrics invite you into an enticing world of psychedelic indie rock, and with lines like “‘Cause the marble made my cheeks look pink/But I’m unsure of so many things” we see the effects Tillman’s mushroom trip had on his creativity. From its beginning, he sings “Jesus Christ” like no one else I’ve ever heard, to its end, when he implores someone “to help me dig,” the song is a gloriously abstract journey I love to repeat over and over. Bonus points for casting Aubrey Plaza in the song’s official video; perhaps the greatest music video casting of all time. Yeah, I said it.

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 (#30 – #21)
Best 50 Songs of the Decade So Far (#20 – #11)

Yeezus. Reflektor. Random Access Memories. mbv. If you feel like you’ve heard these names far too often recently, you’re probably not alone. These seemingly ubiquitous names have appeared towards the top of many “Best Albums of 2013” lists, but many, if not all of them, rank so highly only due to critical hype. Way Too Indie’s Top 20 Albums of 2013 list cuts through critical buzz and picks out twenty thoroughly enjoyable, moving, infinitely replayable albums released this year…well, somewhat. Even after clearing the critical fog, frequent picks Settle, Days Are Gone, Modern Vampires of the City, and The Bones of What You Believe remained compelling enough to place on this list. Despite the appearance of these albums, there should be some surprises that lie ahead, some wonderful albums that went relatively unappreciated this year. Let’s begin.

Also check out our Top 20 Songs of 2013

Way Too Indie’s Top 20 Albums of 2013

#20 – Moderat: II

The dreary nature of II is best observed on tracks such as “Versions” and “Ilona,” movingly dark pieces that affect with each synthetic spike. Of course, Moderat is somewhat aware that this formulation will eventually turn stale if repeated to precision on each track, so they occasionally invite in a guest vocalist to mildly brighten the mood. The flicker of hope in the vocals of tracks “Damage Done” and “Bad Kingdom” ever so slightly disguise the thoroughly desolate instrumentals below them.

More vocal bits might have helped Moderat craft a better album, actually. Only four songs contain guest vocals, and, although each of the remaining tracks is perfectly enjoyable, it can be easy to confuse one with the other (“Therapy” and “This Time” are almost interchangeable). Luckily, Moderat seems to understand the similarities running through their songs, as evidenced by their decision to stick the brilliant ten minutes of “Milk” close to its center. “Milk” is the track that transforms II from a great album to an excellent one. Its repeated synths fluctuate in and out of focus, and the clicking drums haunt just as thoroughly as the thinly veiled vocal samples comprising the song’s perimeter. It’s mildly more upbeat than the rest of the album, striking a balance with its thorough darkness; this balance allows II to succeed in spite of its notable flaws.

#19 – Saint Pepsi: Hit Vibes

Indeed, DeRobertis is a pretty funny guy. Check out the dialogue that begins the album: opener “Hit Vibes” starts with a seemingly arbitrary bit of dialogue before spending just under a minute fleshing out a brazenly funk-indebted track. The next track, “Have Faith,” boldly announces, “It’s Saint Pepsi, bitch!” and then releases a slew of mid-70s dance sounds, as though the first track weren’t already fully devoted to this era.

Really, Hit Vibes is a modern take on the disco and funk themes of 70s music. Album highlight “Better” mixes brass and bass to maximize the level of retro-worship, resulting in a fast-paced dance anthem; “Skylar Spence” is as outright an embrace of funk as is the much-better known Daft Punk song “Fragments of Time”; “Together” echoes the era’s slow jams, embellishing the music with soul influences to fully achieve this effect. Even when Saint Pepsi includes more modern sounds, he sounds like the past: although the heavily processed vocals on “Strawberry Lemonade” are altered to fit the tradition of instrumental hip-hop, the instrumentation belongs to, again, the 70s. Forget being a champion of the internet in 2013; Saint Pepsi is happily anchored forty years in the past.

#18 – Boxed Wine: Cheap, Fun

This group’s upbeat, foot-shuffling sound echoes Matt & Kim, albeit with a greater polish. For a band with such limited resources and exposure, “First Time” features a surprisingly professional sheen, enhancing the already ecstatic themes of the music. Indeed, Boxed Wine writes songs that border on dangerously high-key; if they keep at it, their presence in the world of music may match that in their songs.

#17 – Jagwar Ma: Howlin’

In theory, the description of Jagwar Ma’s style reads like that of so many other groups, yet the band’s success lies in their unparalleled exuberance. These three simply sound happy to be making music, and their delight is infectious. Even on songs as lyrically upsetting (although commonplace) as “Man I Need”, Jagwar Ma threaten to fully absorb listeners with their hookiness. But nowhere do they compel as greatly as on third track “The Throw”, which thrusts forward over seven unforgettable minutes. It’s an early statement of Jagwar Ma’s greatest powers; the rest of Howlin’ follows in suit.

#16 – Mister Lies: Mowgli

Opener “Ashore”, a thinly dim affair, starts Mowgli unassumingly, but by the arrival of third track “Align”, clearly the most house-influenced track here, it’s no longer plausible to apply the word “tiny” to this album. “Lupine” continues the ice of past tracks, its paranoid synth screeches accentuating the subdued horror; the Exitmusic-featuring “Hounded” cries soulfully, its ethereal vocals providing a disconcerting yet gorgeous contrast to the cold instrumentation. A generally dismal work of art indeed, Mowgli‘s bare nature enchants from its opening moments rather than merely emulating its predecessors.

#15 – Glasser: Interiors

Yet even though the actual sounds heard on Interiors skillfully balance dread and beauty, nothing on this album is particularly new. Interiors inevitably draws comparison to Björk’s music because, well, it sounds exactly like the space between Homogenic and Vespertine, two of the Icelandic goddess’ best works. Whereas many musicians might bore by so transparently emulating their idols, Mesirow instead so boldly wears her influences on her sleeve that her gorgeous songs never get lost in pure reverence.

For instance, the frozen synths and flickering percussion opening “Design” provide a thrilling segway into an even more chilling track; the minimalist opening notes of “Exposure” allow its huge chorus to blindside listeners, sweeping them with emotion; the short segments of “Forge” that consist only of Mesirow’s singing are nothing short of harrowing. Glasser excites without truly innnovating: although Interiors exists in the shadow of its progenitor, it sparkles gorgeously.

#14 – Boards of Canada: Tomorrow’s Harvest

The dreariness of first track “Gemini” sweeps into “Reach for the Dead”, a bleak picture of desolation; the emptiness continues over the entirety of Tomorrow’s Harvest, each track adding more to the theme. Indeed, Boards of Canada haven’t lost their talent for extending an idea across a whole album; in fact, moreso than ever before, they’ve released a work that, in its hour-long runtime, conveys one mood so precisely. Although a couple of standout tracks do exist (“Jacquard Causeway” and “Nothing Is Real”), Tomorrow’s Harvest succeeds wonderfully as the sum of all its parts.

#13 – AlunaGeorge: Body Music

Generally, AlunaGeorge’s music is “future soul”: Francis’ delicate croon permeates warbled electronic beats, delivering what could be mistaken for 90s radio R&B sent to the 2030s for plastic surgery. Francis and Reid explore the more aggressive side of this style with upbeat, radio-ready tracks such as “Attracting Flies” and “Superstar”: exuding typical pop song structure, these tracks wouldn’t sound horrendously out of place on commercial radio if not for their futuristic, atypical synths. Elsewhere, the music exudes sensuality and intimacy: “Outlines” and “Your Drums, Your Love” soften the heavy blow of Body Music‘s many in-your-face pop tracks, delivering sensitive love tunes with familiar themes.

If anything, Body Music only falters for how familiar it feels. Even on this album’s best tracks, formulaic approaches can be pinpointed. For example, “Kaleidoscope Love” changes key for its final chorus, a technique that might come off cheesy if this duo weren’t so damn good. Lyrically, it’s firmly precedented: themes of love and lust are no fresher than a McDonald’s salad. Sure, Body Music have flaws, but AlunaGeorge are excellent architects of sound, and it’s tough not to enjoy their music, even with its faults.

#12 – Phoenix: Bankrupt

It’s not like Phoenix have never focused on synths before. “1901”, their best-known song, backs its verses with absolutely monstrous keyboards; however, for its incredibly distinct, catchy chorus, guitars lead the charge. On Bankrupt!, though, the synths control everything. The album’s most cathartic moments — the rushing post-chorus of “Entertainment”, the bright flourishes of “S.O.S. in Bel Air”, the mid-song transition in “Drakkar Noir” — ever so slightly elevate the synths above the guitars, to the point where distinguishing the two proves somewhat challenging. The increase in synthetic elements dictates the sound of Bankrupt!, which isn’t as outrightly sunny as the bright-skies-over-everything Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. Not to fret, though; the glory days of upbeat, positively exuberant Phoenix are not yet over. For now, though, they’re disguised by somewhat darker shades, an exciting switch-up from a band so well-respected for their skyward enthusiasm.

#11 – Disclosure: Settle

Truth be told, the fourteen tracks on Settle can be difficult to power through in one sitting, but the album’s saving grace is how enthralling each track is on its own. “F For You” is a front-foot-forward, handclap-driven jam that’s relatively low-key for something that bumps so heavily. “White Noise” broadcasts the precious voice of Aluna Francis (yes, the same one from AlunaGeorge) and berserk clicks of icy synths. “Stimulation” pounds forward on giant percussion, thick, computer-generated murk, and sampled vocal snippets. “You & Me” fuses Eliza Doolittle’s soulful, pleading voice with percussive shuffle and moody yet quick synths. “Confess to Me”, perhaps the most exciting of all the guest-featuring tracks here, uses Jessie Ware’s breathy vocals to great effect, establishing a longing ache in the verses before exploding into dancefloor mania in its chorus.

Amongst all the guest features and straightforward compositional techniques, the tracks on Settle hit surprisingly hard. There’s not a weak track to be found here, and each song has a moody underbelly hidden beneath the dancing drums and high-paced synth attacks. What a deceiving name for an album: on their debut, Disclosure’s fire never Settles.

#10 – Baths: Obsidian

It’s ultimately tragic that Wiesenfeld’s despair makes for such chilling music. Wiesenfeld discusses his absolute lack of respect for his current live-in boyfriend on “Incompatible”, a hapless situation indeed, yet the bare instrumentation and harrowing percussive click of the chorus inevitably strikes an emotional chord. It’s even easier to resonate with the statement that initiates the comedown from the chorus: “You don’t do anything with your life/fascinating, terrible, your stupid idling mind/I could prod your hurt all night.” Although the particular situations Wiesenfeld finds himself in may not be commonplace, his sentiments ring home.

Further compounding the themes of “Incompatible” is “No Eyes”, perhaps Obsidian‘s best instance of giving equal emotional weight to the music and the lyrics. A desperate tale of loveless sex, it bravely commands, “come and fuck me!” during its quavering, uneasy chorus. The lyrics are as uncomfortable as the instrumentation, which feels glaringly obvious during the disturbing, minimal interlude following the second chorus. Barely a synth tone flickers in unison with some sort of metal objects making contact in the distance, until a massive, unexpected, three-second glitch burst disrupts the quiet. Or, rather, it disrupts the disquiet; on Obsidian, the two are equal. When the darkness of the lyrics and the music are also equal, which occurs frequently and alarmingly, Obsidian succeeds as a bold statement from an artist who, despite finding his place musically, still has many more issues to sort out.

#9 – Fuck Buttons: Slow Focus

Naturally, Fuck Buttons being Fuck Buttons, Slow Focus doesn’t eliminate its rave and noise precedents entirely. Lead single “The Red Wing” closely approaches the transcendent, sky-reaching roar of Tarot Sport, although final track “Hidden XS” does so even more obviously. However, the twosome’s newfound horror-house sound makes for intense listening over this album’s seven, mostly-longer-than-six-minute tracks, even when the music approaches the Buttons’ prior optimism.

No, these guys conscious decision to restrict the soaring brightness of past works does not bore. In fact, moreso than ever, the music is driving and forceful; rarely over the course of these lengthy songs does the weight of the album fail to demand attention. Fearsome though it is, Slow Focus enthralls throughout its fifty-two minutes, and is one of the year’s best instrumental experiments.

#8 – The Virgins: Strike Gently

There’s a retrospective haze clouding Strike Gently‘s instrumentation, manifesting particularly strongly in its guitars and vocals. Many other acts have attempted similar styles and felt forced rather than natural, but The Virgins approach past sounds wonderfully (although these past sounds belong to other artists and not themselves — no “Rich Girls” will be found here). The relatively soft, almost-ballad “Figure on the Ice” instantly brings to mind the sparkle of 70s high school proms and the associated slow dancing, but never sounds cheesy; “Wheel of Fortune” takes on a comically lackadaisical vocal attitude to emulate the personality of the era’s performers, resulting in a wonderfully moving composition; “What Good is Moonlight” extends the band’s retro-reverence into quasi-arena rock, and is the album’s most outrightly fun number.

In the interspace between these tracks lies “Flashbacks, Memories, and Dreams”, the track that best demonstrates how The Virgins’ backwards-looking approach succeeds when it could so easily fail. It’s tough not to at least crack a smile when first hearing the tone the song’s vocal takes, although the glam guitars opening the song are already amusing enough. “I think that cool kid broke my jaw!” begins the second verse, a line that instantly recalls the glory days of the Brat Pack. “Flashbacks” takes a striking pose, although it does so gently, clinching the album’s mission statement.

#7 – Savages: Silence Yourself

A rolling, ominous bassline tends to dominate the direction of these tracks’ verses, with stadium-sized guitars overtaking the choruses. Even when massive distortion rips these songs open, the guitars somehow manage to recede into the background by the arrival of the first verse, giving priority to the bass. “I Am Here”, “City’s Full”, “Strife”, and “She Will” all use this exact same approach. Rather than cursing the songs with staleness, though, this formula enthralls. Perhaps, though, this success is only due to the saving grace that is the Siouxsie-esque voice of vocalist Jehnny Beth. Equally capable of both breathy pleading and unhinged terror, Beth’s distinct voice empowers Savages with an absolutely undeniable force.

Although the fear induced by Beth’s voice holds the key to “She Will”‘s riotous, triumphant outro, the comfort it induces on tracks like “Marshal Dear” also deserves a mention. Ending the album, this track stands alone from the rest: rather than just post-punk instrumentation, it also brings pianos and what might be horns into the mix. It boldly states just how flexible Beth’s voice is, and makes it clear that, despite how gigantic the rest of the band sounds, this element is what drives the band to such great heights so early in their career.

#6 – CHVRCHES: The Bones of What You Believe

“We Sink” follows “The Mother We Share”, and further hints at the vast, skyward sounds the album will achieve. “I’ll be a thorn at your side/’til you die/I’ll be a thorn at your side/for always” coos Lauren Mayberry during the chorus, and these lyrics stick not due to their sentiments, but rather due to the impact of their surrounding synths. Like “We Sink”, “Lies” and “Recover”, probably the two best tracks on the album, also burn lyrically due to the instrumentation enveloping the words rather than their inherent meaning. On the former track, “I can sell you lies!/You can’t get enough!” scalds listeners rather than just passing them by as some sort of love-lost metaphor; the much more transparent “and if I recover/will you be my comfort?/or it can be over/and we can just leave it here” feels important and desperate when wrapped in the latter track’s humongous, optimistic synths.

There’s a definite relation between composition and lyricism in CHVRCHES music’, and it’s the interplay between the two that makes The Bones of What You Believe such an enjoyable listen. “I am gonna come for you/with all that I have,” threatens Mayberry during the first verse of third track “Gun”‘s chorus, and it’s a good summary of what CHVRCHES do best. Using all their possible instrumental and verbal talent, CHVRCHES have brewed an incredibly potent album, one whose unrestricted buoyancy provides an incredible, addicting release each and every time.

#5 – Haim: Days Are Gone

Take the title track, for instance: the subdued, bluesy guitars recall Fleetwood Mac (really, everything this band does recalls Fleetwood Mac, but just roll with this example), while the pleading vocals of the chorus might not sound terribly out of place in a 90s R&B jam. Elsewhere, “My Song 5” advances on both computerized arena rock percussive stomp and similarly thick, bluesy guitars, and “If I Could Change Your Mind” employs Danielle Haim’s soul crooning in combination with affecting guitar flicker. Haim thrills by fusing their influences with tradition, a surprisingly valid approach.

Perhaps the best example of how Haim boldly balance admiration for the classics with modern pop structures is their best known song, “The Wire.” Opening on a power chord and an arena rock drum pattern straight out of a Billy Squier tune, the song quickly rolls into a verse dominated by palm-muted guitar riffing, fluid but subtle bass, and deep, breathy vocals courtesy of Danielle Haim. Its chorus sparkles only mildly in comparison to the verses, yet it sounds impossibly larger than the verses surrounding it. After the first chorus, the song plays a trick on unfocused listeners: Danielle hands lead vocal duties to her younger sister Alana for the first half of the verse, and then to older sister Este for the verse’s second half. Each sister’s voice bears a notable amount of soul and attitude; confidence appears to be a genetic trait, as does infectious pop songwriting.

#4 – Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Mosquito

Very few other bands, if any, could make such an indecisive album a success; really, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are getting away with murder. But this trio have a certain magic to their songwriting regardless of what shape it takes: the brutally tenuous “Subway” stings just as harshly as does its following track, the searing, frivolous “Mosquito.” The latter track contains one of the most useless, outrightly stupid sets of lyrics to ever appear in this band’s catalog (and this is coming from a band responsible for the words of “Black Tongue”); rather than bringing this song down, though, its simplicity lets the bonkers instrumentation shine. It’s a similar approach to some of the music on M.I.A.’s Matangi: let’s make the music thrilling enough for the possibly vapid lyrics to take second fiddle.

Of course, this approach is bound to fail at some point, as it does on the inane, worthless “Buried Alive.” But when you’ve also got lyrics as gorgeous and affecting as “Despair”, “Subway”, and “Sacrilege”, it’s easy to forgive the occasional slip-up. These songs all encompass dramatically different musical palettes, yet each burns with longing and passion. The victories on this album completely negate its weaker moments, and although Mosquito is no Show Your Bones or It’s Blitz (really, how many other bands write near-perfect albums in two distinct genres?), it’s still just as potent.

#3 – Foxygen: We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace and Magic

Take “No Destruction” as an example of how Foxygen distinguish their art from that of their musical parents’. The lightweight, giddy sound achieved here settles in some unexplored gap between The Rolling Stones and The Velvet Underground, fleshing out this space with Sam France’s narrative storytelling. His voice varies from half-assed and uninspired to borderline broken (this latter state mimics Mick Jagger to near perfection), and the fusion of barely overdriven guitars and faint pianos recall the late 60s all too well. Of course, it’s impossible to discuss this song without mentioning the stellar jab, “There’s no need to be an asshole/You’re not in Brooklyn anymore”; France’s wicked, characteristic sense of humor pervades his words and their delivery constantly on Ambassadors, and “No Destruction” is only the duo’s most notorious example.

The precious way France sings the opening lyrics of “San Francisco” is bound to incite at least a chuckle from the attentive listener, as is the chorus: “I left my love in San Francisco” is followed by a high-pitched, distantly mocking “That’s okay, I was born in L.A.” Oddly laughable lyrics outline “Shuggie” as well: “I met your daughter the other day/well, that was weird/She had rhinoceros-shaped earrings in her ears,” France sing-speaks as nonchalantly as the surrounding guitars and strings slump forward. The lyricism originates from predecessor Lou Reed, whose recent passing makes his influence on this album even more apparent than it already was. Indeed, even when employing their own unique sense of humor, Foxygen recalls prior greats; their backwards gaze provides an amazing template for the success of Ambassadors, an album that’s simultaneously clever and trifling, and as reverent as it is irreverent.

#2 – Vampire Weekend: Modern Vampires of the City

From the opening moments of “Obvious Bicycle”, it’s evident that Modern Vampires of the City is far more restricted in its dynamics than past albums…well, for the most part. “Diane Young”, “Finger Back”, and “Worship You” are boisterous, energetic standouts that show the band hasn’t entirely left their frenzied, wild past, and while these tracks all strike as diligently as the rest of the album, it’s the stark, depressing tracks that chill most strongly. “Unbelievers” contains Vampire Weekend’s signature instrumental flourishes, although they’re far more moderate than ever before. The intertwinement of the track’s organ-esque keyboards (I saw them live, I can assure you it’s not a real organ) and pushing percussion screams Vampire Weekend, yet these parts sound far bleaker than ever before, and thus more afflicting.

“Step”, “Everlasting Arms”, and “Ya Hey” also flourish on this same trick: these songs don’t sound like any other band could have created them, yet their darkness is newfound for this foursome, and their tone startlingly resonant coming from a band who once sang about Decembers spent looking psychotic in a balaclava. In general, the songs on this album are undeniably evocative and bone-chilling, but it’s impossible to discuss MVOTC without mentioning the brutal, heart-shattering “Hannah Hunt.” Critics and fans alike agree that this song is the best Vampire Weekend has yet released; from the opening whir of washed-out bass and faded human chatter, it’s instantly clear that something greater is at work here. Almost three minutes in, a cathartic, emotionally destructive climax emerges, fulfilling the song’s disquieting tension with a tragic, painful swell of pianos and Ezra Koenig’s aching, pleading vocals.

Throughout Modern Vampires of the City, one might be as likely to cry as to jump in excitement. Although it sounds soft when compared to past work, it strikes a blow so massive that it makes this band’s already excellent previous work seem like child’s play. Even if this album doesn’t feel right at first, give it a few more listens; if you have a heart, the human core of this album will eventually overtake you, and you’ll never look back.

#1 – Youth Lagoon: Wondrous Bughouse

Turning a deaf ear to such soaring guitar fills as the ones driving “Mute”, “Attic Doctor”, and “Pelican Man” must take some sort of supernatural skill. As devastating as they are kooky, the sounds on Wondrous Bughouse might at first feel confusing and trifling, but Powers’ mental troubles are entangled with his compositions. When faced with the prospect of losing someone he cares about, he writes “Dropla”, driven by its doubtful claims of “you’ll never die” and its nostalgic sentiment. “Raspberry Cane” also contains the repetition of a straightforward statement likely not believed by its speaker: “Everybody cares,” Powers tries to reassure himself, only to quickly admit, “They say love exists/but what happened to it?” The bare instrumentation surrounding these thoughts soon ascends into a hallucinogenic, childlike array of alien-sounding synths that’s oddly irresistible.

In general, the songs on Wondrous Bughouse are trippy and juvenile, but it’s this very description that also accounts for how striking they are. On “Attic Doctor”, for example, Powers introduces haunted mansion synths and MGMT-like psychedelic gait, a bit funny in their silliness, but also deeply keen and acute. “Third Dystopia” is trapped underwater, but its affecting guitars and longing chorus thrill and invigorate. “Sleep Paralysis” actually sounds like a dream for a while, but when it picks up the pace, it truly sounds like a nightmare.

Naturally, the inane basis of these songs’ instrumentation can be easily perceived as rubbish; its oddball, off-kilter tone isn’t for everyone. For listeners able to connect to Powers’ eerie songwriting, though, Wondrous Bughouse is a thrilling ride, often fun in its instrumentation, but always depraved in its sentiments. A psychedelic playground, but only for those willing to spend some time on the monkey bars.

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”

It is doubtful that the folks running Lollapalooza are pulling an extravagant April Fools day joke, joining sites such as Google and Microsoft, by announced the lineup today ahead of the previously scheduled date of April 9th. The lineup announced change was likely due to the poster that leaked online last week that actually proved to be true for once. One can only hope that in spirit of April Fools is the reason why Daft Punk is not on the list.

The headliners for the 2013 Lollapalooza music festival are; The Cure, Mumford & Sons, The Killers, Nine Inch Nails, Phoenix, The Postal Service, and Vampire Weekend. The Postal Service is continuing their come-back festival tour and this marks the first U.S. announced show for Nine Inch Nails come-back.

Stay tuned as Way Too Indie will be attending and providing coverage of this years’ festival. See below for the rest of the lineup.

2013 Lollapalooza Lineup