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

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

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

Björk – Vulnicura

[One Little Indian]

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

Dengue Fever – The Deepest Lake

[Tuk Tuk]

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

Father John Misty – I Love You, Honeybear

[Sub Pop]

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

Kendrick Lamar – To Pimp a Butterfly

[Interscope/Aftermath/Top Dawg]

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

Lower Dens – Escape From Evil

[Ribbon Music]

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

Natalie Prass – Natalie Prass

[Spacebomb]

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

Sleater-Kinney – No Cities To Love

[Sub Pop]

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

Speedy Ortiz – Foil Deer

[Carpark]

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

Torres – Sprinter

[Partisan]

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

Waxahatchee – Ivy Tripp

[Merge]

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

C.J. Prince’s Passionate Orphan

Allie X – CollXtion I

[UMG/Label X]

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

Max Freedman’s Passionate Orphan

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

[Mom+Pop]

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

Bernard Boo’s Passionate Orphan

Joey Bada$$ – B4.DA.$$

[Cinematic Music Group]

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

Listen to These Albums on Our Spotify Playlist

Back in March, we presented our 50 favorite songs released between 2010 and 2014. After the fun of putting together such an all encompassing list, how could we not follow it up with one for our favorite albums of the past few years?

Just as with our songs list, we’ll be presenting it in increments of ten albums, starting with #50-41 today. Some of what’s here may be surprising and certainly there will be something new for even the most dedicated of indie music followers. We wouldn’t want anyone out of the loop. Consider this a social service and be sure to check out our daily Spotify playlists to go along with our countdown.

Best 50 Albums Of The Decade So Far (#50-#41)

Makthaverskan – II

If Makthaverskan are known for anything at this point, it’s for the phrase, “Fuck you!” This may seem like a pretty ordinary phrase at first—what melodramatic TV character hasn’t shouted this and then later apologized for it?—but when a Gothic shoegaze/punk band from Sweden meaningfully applies it in a language that’s not their native tongue, they demand attention. On II, Maja Milner and friends turn this commonplace swear into a lacerating knife, as they do with many English phrases, on “Antabus” and “No Mercy.” In general, they make better use of English than many native speakers, which is ironic given the simplicity of their words. “It’s not me you’re dreaming of!,” “Take off this shirt and we’ll make love,” and “I don’t know where you are tonight, but if you want, I’ll take you back,” rank among the most effective phrases here, yet they’re far from poetic. Instead, Milner’s piercing voice and her band’s gorgeous, yet wintry and confrontational, instrumentation turns her words into weapons. “You outshine them all!” she wails on “Outshine,” and this phrase, although much happier than a “Fuck you!” describes the entirety of II, a diamond in a minefield. [Max]

Waxahatchee – Cerulean Salt

Cerulean Salt begins with a track whose title echoes its creation. “Hollow Bedroom” may describe the location of this album’s genesis, and this inherent intimacy endows Waxahatchee’s sophomore album with a charming haunt. Singer-songwriter Katie Crutchfield recalls past events with a specificity that rivals some of the greatest storytellers; for example, “Brother Bryan” details silver hair, taxi rides, and her sister’s tears impressively vividly, and “Misery Over Dispute” remembers the most difficult moments of a past relationship. Elsewhere, Crutchfield applies her words to explore more generally relatable emotions, ones that tend to be quite devastating: “Blue Pt. II” explores the anxiety of unrequited love, and career highlight “Swan Dive” finds its author in an even more desperate state of need. And if her meticulous lyricism isn’t quite enough to compel listeners, the barren, restricted instrumentation underlying her thoughts is just as affecting. [Max]

Todd Terje – It’s Album Time

Todd Terje as swagged-out jazz pianist on It’s Album Time’s artwork confirms the humor of its title, but its name also fits this LP purely on a sonic level. While some albums are simply collections of songs organized a certain way, Terje’s full-length debut (after seven years of wildly acclaimed singles and compilations) takes full advantage of the album structure, resulting in an adventure rather than a set list. The twelve songs present often segue seamlessly into one another, sounding like the soundtrack to a film about album character Preben rather than a mixtape of unrelated Terje songs. When Preben goes to Acapulco, the joy of a tropical escape dominates the soundscape; when he hits the club, both parts of “Swing Star” document his night on the town. Indeed, It’s Album Time is incredibly club-ready; “Strandbar,” “Oh Joy,” and especially “Delorean Dynamite” and the now omnipresent “Inspector Norse” feel like rescues from an abandoned Saturday Night Live prequel. On the flip side is “Johnny and Mary,” a Robert Palmer cover featuring Roxy Music’s Bryan Ferry on—gasp!—vocals. A starry-eyed comedown amidst this high-energy, multicolored expedition, it’s the album’s most explicitly gorgeous moment. The contrast of its presence illuminates the album’s high-fructose charm, one that’s appealing both as a novelty listen and as a deeply moving composition. [Max]

Frank Ocean – Channel Orange

When the album stream for Channel Orange was posted online, the internet stopped. Everyone seemed to hit play at the exact same time and, about an hour later, Frank Ocean was untouchable. Ocean’s past is a star-studded muck of premature announcements, tension from record labels, and the overwhelming response from his infamous letter, which mentioned a relationship he had with another man when he was younger.

Channel Orange came exactly when Frank Ocean needed an R&B gem that doubled as a personal statement to his newfound fans and haters. The praise that Ocean earns from this record does not stem from details of his personal life but for the universality of his lyrics. He writes about women and men, about happiness and loss, but ultimately his lyrics are concerned with the long-term effects of short, highly influential moments. It’s in Ocean’s nature to be as vibrant as the color orange, to sing about the complexities of love without always involving booty or drunkenness, simply torturing himself by reliving old memories only to repeatedly feel heartbreak or nostalgic happiness. [Susan]

TV on the Radio – Seeds

Legions of indie rock fans have glommed onto TV On the Radio since they hit the scene back in 2002, the Brooklyn-based band’s thrilling, energetic style digging out a niche for them in the industry almost immediately. Their 2014 LP, Seeds, is probably the band’s most subdued album in their discography. “Happy Idiot,” for example, is a light dance track you might hear at a teenage ‘80s night club. While some fans miss the band’s more grandiose and abrasive style of songwriting that fueled their earlier releases, it’s sort of nice to see them give us something new and a little less amplified for a change. They can still rock, though, as is evidenced in the albums later cuts “Lazzeray” and “Winter.” TV On the Radio can always blow back your hair at live shows with their early stuff, but lately they’ve been exploring new colors of their identity as a band, and that’s exciting in its own way. [Bernard]

Dirty Projectors – Swing Lo Magellan

Following up Bitte Orca’s behemoth of odd time signatures, impossibly technical guitar work, and Afro-Carribean influence was probably a daunting task for Dirty Projectors mastermind Dave Longstreth. After releasing one of the century’s best albums to universal acclaim and a rapidly expanding fan base, what might be the next step? 2012’s Swing Lo Magellan presents the answer as a laser-precise offering of twelve songs bearing more familiar time signatures and less enviably flashy riffage. Although vestiges of Longstreth’s sidelined genius remain—see the offbeat percussive shuffle of “About to Die,” “See What She Seeing,” and “The Socialites,” as well as the oddly timed arpeggios of “Just From Chevron” for evidence—this is Longstreth’s simplest presentation yet. “Impregnable Question” is Bitte Orca hymn “Two Doves” on a healthy amount of tranquilizers, “Offspring Are Blank” appropriates Longstreth’s shouting tendencies into a punk-like chorus, and album highlight “Dance for You” sees its writer using his vast talents to create straightforward yearning rather than complex heartache. Swing Lo Magellan is essentially Dirty Projectors’ White Album: following an intricate, genre-defying album, it fashions its creator’s brilliance into accessibility while maintaining his trademarks and talents. [Max]

Tame Impala – Lonerism

The general consensus is that Sgt. Pepper’s is the greatest psychedelic album of all time, if not the greatest album ever recorded across all genres. Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker likely took many of his cues from this and other Beatles albums, and it’s not unreasonable to say that his sophomore album, 2012’s Lonerism, holds a candle to what preceded it 45 years ago. With a voice that recalls John Lennon more precisely than anyone since, Parker crafts psychedelic bliss with an experimental touch. Six-minute voyage “Apocalypse Dreams” halves its time between surreal pop piano bounce and glowing abstract passages; “Mind Mischief” is the sexiest slab of experimental psychedelic music this side of Deee-Lite; “Keep on Lying” hops along on a warbly synthetic squelch mixed in with fragmented field recordings. Parker achieves an impeccable balance of melody and experimentation throughout Lonerism, essentially filtering pop through an investigative lens. Whether the rushing swirl of “Music to Walk Home By” or the anthemic gush of “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards,” the album walks the tightrope between accessibility and innovation without ever falling off, placing it among the greatest psychedelic albums of all time, if not the greatest albums ever recorded across all genres. [Max]

Weezer – Everything Will Be Alright in the End

I lost faith in Weezer a long time ago. They had a string of about four or five passable-to-mediocre albums over the past decade or so, and my once-favorite band became a shell of their former selves. 2014’s Everything Will Be Alright in the End, however, unexpectedly rekindled my love for them and once again all’s well in Weezer-ville. It’s a self-referential album mostly about the band’s fraught relationship with its fans, with songs like “Back to the Shack,” “I’ve Had it Up to Here,” and “Eulogy For a Rock Band” speaking to them (me) directly. “Da Vinci” and “Cleopatra” cover familiar lyrical ground for frontman Rivers Cuomo, talking about girls he thinks are lovely as per usual, but they’re special tracks because they’re the catchiest things he’s written since “Island in the Sun” and “Beverly Hills.” Reinvigorated and ready to rock, Weezer has finally won back our hearts. [Bernard]

Wild Nothing – Nocturne

In a decade when the descriptor “dream pop” has been so overused that it’s become as meaningless as “indie rock,” it’s rare to find an act that fully occupies the term. Enter Wild Nothing, pet project of Jack Tatum, to claim this genre as his craft. Ethereal, lackluster vocals, swirling synthetic soundscapes, and glossy, delay-heavy guitars abound on sophomore effort Nocturne; these traits not only define dream pop to a tee, but in Tatum’s case, endow this commonly misplaced term with new life. Songs like “Paradise” and “Only Heather” not only feel truly as pillowy and comforting as their style’s name might suggest, but additionally boast earworm melodies that bear constant repeating. The sonics on Nocturne are entirely gorgeous and memorable; try escaping the opening guitar line of “The Blue Dress” or the shoegaze sweep of “Midnight Song.” Hell, the album is even named after the night; what better time for dreams to sound so sweet? [Max]

Chairlift – Something

Brooklyn-based synth-pop outfit Chairlift gained popularity when one of their songs, “Bruises,” was featured on an iPod commercial. The band cemented their status as a legitimate act, however, with Something, their 2012 sophomore LP which is full of art pop tunes and some sweet, new wave-inspired electronic arrangements. Frontwoman Caroline Polacheck’s vocals (and occasional spoken word narration) are really cosmic and breezy and silky smooth, and the incredibly quirky music backing her up is just a lot of fun. Tracks like “Frigid Spring” and “Amanaemonesia” have a ton of character and sound like radio hits from mars. Hooky, bright, and delightfully inventive, Something is the perfect album to share with your kid brother or sister who loves shitty pop music; it’ll snap them out of their top-40 daze and usher them into a new world where catchiness and artfulness coexist and make sweet, sweet intergalactic love. [Bernard]

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 (#40 – #31)
Best 50 Albums of the Decade So Far (#30 – #21)
Best 50 Albums of the Decade So Far (#20 – #11)
Best 50 Albums of the Decade So Far (#10 – #1)

The first five minutes of Katie Crutchfield’s third album as Waxahatchee pass without the presence of any percussion at all. An initial reaction to this fact might be to declare Ivy Tripp extreme, but this neglects that Crutchfield’s previous album, 2013’s masterful Cerulean Salt, opened with two drumless minutes. Rather, this observation serves to emphasize that Crutchfield’s newest collection sees her expanding. It contains her two longest songs to date as well as her most uptempo tune yet, and introduces the occasional synth for the first time in her career. More notably, it displays Crutchfield transforming her already robust lyricism from an introverted, self-contained diary of heartache into a more hopeful and confident stance on life and love. In writing this sturdier, more wholesome poetry, Crutchfield has also given her voice a platform to drastically broaden its range from its formerly emotive but restrained state into a much more commanding, emphatic instrument. Indeed, Crutchfield has improved on all of Cerulean Salt‘s very small handful of flaws on Ivy Tripp, resulting in an effortless, vivacious album that still manages to feel as personal as her quieter past efforts.

Ivy Tripp opens with the guitar-and-vocals take “Breathless”, a five-minute song that, despite employing an instrumental setup in which Crutchfield is well versed, feels newly immersive for Waxahatchee, immediately suggesting the strength that Ivy Tripp enjoys over its thirty-eight minutes. “Under a Rock” follows, and wastes no time in showcasing how vastly Crutchfield’s voice has grown. “Maybe/you got/your head/caught in a ditch last night” beckons Crutchfield with a rugged vibrato previously unheard in her music. This song segues seamlessly into “Poison”, an album highlight infused with waves of sailing, shoegaze-like guitar work and tugging vocal self-harmonization. But these songs prove to be mere warm-up laps for “La Loose”, the first Waxahatchee song that might reasonably be described as dance-worthy , or even a summer song. Sure, the most basic of drum machine beats drives it, but the groove laid down here is undeniable, and the peripheral synthetic hum underlying Crutchfield’s potent vocalizations makes this the first time a Waxahatchee song is bound to incite listeners out of their seats rather than sinking them further into stillness.

“Stale By Noon” thereafter provides a necessary comedown from “La Loose”, its early-morning beads of —is that a xylophone?—allowing Crutchfield’s newfound optimism to properly shine through. Sandwiched between this song and similarly tranquil ditty “Blue” is the fuzzed-out stomp of “The Dirt”, one of the sunniest songs Crutchfield’s written to date. After this three-song stretch comes aptly-chosen lead single “Air”, likely the album’s best song and one of the year’s most poignant tunes thus far. Like the rest of Ivy Tripp, this song uses Crutchfield’s greater vocal range, confidence, and vibrato to great success and tells a boldly objective tale of a love lost; where it stands out from the pack, though, is in how deeply its sadness cuts. Its chorus is utterly crushing and heartbreaking, almost on the level of career highlight “Swan Dive”, and its placement on this album provides an incessantly replayable contrast to the otherwise more bullish tone of this album.

The melancholy of “Air” continues into the desolation of “<“, a song whose title derives from its chorus: “You’re less than me/I am nothing.” Back to back, “Air” and “<” represent the most explicitly glum stretch of Ivy Tripp, a fact that becomes immediately obvious when the sprightly “Grey Hair” follows. “Sugar, soda pop/songs play on the radio” may be the most jovial lyric Katie Crutchfield has committed to record, and the surprisingly merry piano line and gleeful vocal take outlining the song indicate that her joy isn’t accidental. “Grey Hair” leads to another shockingly sunny tune, one that recalls Crutchfield’s incredibly intimate debut, the acoustic lo-fi 2012 album American Weekend. This song, “Summer of Love”, may be the album’s weakest, which is acceptable given its resemblance to Waxahatchee’s earliest work. Its smiling acoustic guitar, the only element present other than some ambient haze, doesn’t properly support the hefty weight of her vocals. “Half Moon” appears next, and this song likewise refuses to regain the drums that “Summer of Love” ditched, but its pianos do manage to successfully reinforce Crutchfield’s voice.

Ending Ivy Tripp is “Bonfire”, a song whose lurching, haunting crawl of fuzz-laced guitar drone, looping bass drums, and softly muttered vocals doesn’t impact as immediately as the remainder of the album does. But this initially faint impression may be in part due to this song’s relation to Cerulean Salt; the restraint Crutchfield places on her voice here recalls the heart-on-sleeve familiarity of that album, a trait which is mostly eliminated here. But she hasn’t forgone this approach because it’s an invalid one; rather, that approach earned her the majority of her current fan base. With this context in mind, “Bonfire” grows, over time, into one of Ivy Tripp‘s finest moments, and its placement at the end of the album feels like a nod to listeners who have willingly gone with her new direction.

Not that doing so is in any way difficult. What Crutchfield hasn’t sacrificed in moving forward from her musical past is the specificity and emotional depth of her lyrics, and the jolt of her words feels like icing on the already delectable cake of this album’s sound. Rather than the past themes of complete hopelessness (“Swan Dive”), unsatisfying revenge (“Peace and Quiet”), and love-driven obsession (“Blue Pt. II”), Ivy Tripp details more mature outlooks on Waxahatchee’s oft-explored subjects. “I could stop praying for everybody/I’m just wasting my time/I’ll read your philosophy and get a new lease on life”, she decides on “Stale By Noon”; the confidence and thorough consideration of this statement is echoed in “La Loose”‘s understanding that “I get why you would long for your past.” Even more impressively adult is Crutchfield admitting to herself on “Grey Hair” that a certain lover may not be “the only one”, later following with the admission that her excitement has her “out of breath/I can’t slow down.” Just as her music is quite often newly optimistic, on Ivy Tripp, so too are her words.

From what Crutchfield has told the press, Ivy Tripp‘s shift in a more grown-up direction makes sense. “[Ivy Tripp] was the first record that I made as an adult, on my own,” she told The Le Sigh recently, a change that’s quite evident throughout the album. She also mentioned to The Le Sigh that writing this album took her much longer than her previous work (American Weekend was created, recorded, and mastered within one week): “It’ll take me hours to write like one verse,” she admitted. “I’ll just scrutinize every single word, and then I’ll go back and I’ll edit it, and a song will take me like weeks or months to finish, because I’ll want every single word to be perfect.” The effort shows: Ivy Tripp is not only Waxahatchee’s strongest work to date, but it’s also one of the past few years’ most comforting, affecting, and assertive analyses of love, life, people, and their problems. Growing up may be hard to do, but Ivy Tripp demonstrates how worthwhile the transformation is.

We continue our countdown of our 50 Best Songs of the Decade So Far with ten songs that include an omnipresent pop anthem, a confrontational rap banger, a stark piano ballad, and an Italo disco song, a subgenre formerly thought to be dead. These ten songs are also somewhat surprising; some of them don’t feature too often on other publications’ lists of the decade’s best music to date. A few of these would be expected for a good Top 20, but others are refreshingly new to such lists. There will definitely be something, if not many things, for eager listeners to discover in this section.

We’ve got the playlist ready and waiting for your listening pleasure at the bottom, let us know what you think of our list so far and tune in tomorrow for our top ten list.

Best 50 Songs Of The Decade So Far
(#20 – #11)

Arcade Fire – “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)”

Over time, Arcade Fire have transformed from an earnest gang of chamber pop auteurs to a troupe with an unexpectedly varied sound. “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)” finds them mid-transition between their former state of we’re-all-in-this-together anthems to their more recent form of cynical, synth-indebted, all-encompassing sounds. The song marks the first instance in Arcade Fire’s catalog where synths actually carry the weight, a move that might signal death for the band if the emotional pull weren’t maintained. Sprightly pianos, digital flickers and a deep, slowly growling synthetic bass support Regine Chassagne’s angelic, assertive vocals. Her lyrical themes of suburban decay and youthful exuberance match the song’s subtly ominous undercurrent and its gleeful, ecstatic synths, respectively. A brief bridge sees the darker hues briefly overtaking the smiling sounds in the song’s most exciting moment; like Chassagne herself says, “I need the darkness, someone please cut the lights.” [Max]

Rihanna – “We Found Love”

The 2011 monster collaboration between Rihanna and Calvin Harris “We Found Love” is a top-notch club banger, with exhilarating crescendos and breakdowns and awesome electronic “swoosh” noises everyone loves so much. But what makes it special is its sense of high drama, found in RiRi’s perfectly controlled, love-struck vocals and the intensely impassioned lyrics. That no one (of note) had written “we found love in a hopeless place” before this song came out is almost stupid, considering how timeless and simple and evocative a lyric it is. “We Found Love” is rapture in a bottle, one of those songs that’ll give you the sudden urge to move with your partner from the dance floor to somewhere more private. [Bernard]

The War on Drugs – “Red Eyes”

After two albums, The War On Drugs have finally found their stride on Lost In The Dream (2014), the lush and lyrically staggering third album from the tortured artist that is Adam Granduciel. And while the record is rather great through and through, it is the first single, “Red Eyes,” that is the clear stand out—a song so rich and mesmerizing that the rest of the album nearly disappears in its glow. The song, driven by the constant rhythm of the drums, but carried along by the full-bodied piano and the thick fuzz of the guitar, is really a showcase for Granduciel’s voice, which rises from its smooth base to a pained howl in a matter of words and scales an impressive range, striking at some hard truths, “And you don’t go home/but you abuse my faith.” This track is sure to outlast the rest of the decade. [Gary]

Bat for Lashes – “Laura”

Natasha Khan a.k.a. Bat For Lashes, is the genuine deal. She doesn’t comprise her artistic inclinations, and doesn’t rush inspiration. The story behind her last album, and how Radiohead’s Thom Yorke helped, is like an adventurous quest for intuition that loves to escape creative minds, but the story behind “Laura,” her slow and melancholic piano ballad, is much more rock star. “My housemate and I had an extremely debauched house party…The next day, I had the biggest hangover ever, and I had to go and write this song,” Khan told Pitchfork. What makes it even more unbelievable is that Khan and her co-writer Justin Parker nailed it in under two hours and the demo version became the album version. Khan hitting it out of the park at first bat while hungover is like an invitation to search for symmetry between artist and subject, making the song all the more transcendent. Of course, the song wouldn’t be her last album’s leading single if it stood on its own merit, and there’s plenty of it. Khan’s voice, a piano, and a heartfelt ode to the misguided, “Laura” is impossible to forget. [Nik]

M83 – “Midnight City”

If you’re looking for the definitive driving song on our list, you’ve found it. French electronic artist Anthony Gonzalez is the man behind the popular M83 monicker, and for his latest album (brilliantly titled Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming), his main influence was his relocation from France to Los Angeles. But, somehow, when he sings “Waiting in a car/Waiting for the ride in the dark/The night city grows/Look and see her eyes, they glow,” you know that he could only be referring to the infamous city of angels. The song is immediately recognized by the opening riffs (interestingly enough, this is his own heavily distorted voice), and the way M83 manipulates and mixes this riff, at once following and leading every other component of the track, is what makes “Midnight City” an instant modern classic. It harkens back to a bygone era of disco, and ends on a sax solo fitting for the end credits of a late ’80s TV show, but with its beats, and pitch-perfect mix of synth-pop energy and dream-pop captivation, “Midnight City” sounds fresh every time you press repeat. Which is a lot. [Nik]

Waxahatchee – “Swan Dive”

Only three elements comprise “Swan Dive,” a masterwork of desperation, heartache, and isolation courtesy of Katie Crutchfield. Specifically, Crutchfield is such a powerful songwriter that she only needs three tracks (an endlessly pattering bass drum, a crisply threadbare guitar line, and her husky, close-range vocals) to convey the hefty emotions underlying this song. “Won’t you sleep with me, every night for a week? Won’t you just let me pretend, this is the love I need?” Crutchfield asks over her desolate instrumentation, providing just enough of a backbone to create a memorable melody, but also remains thin enough to ensure that her words receive the attention they deserve. Later, the drums go silent, and the backbone becomes even more delicate, directing the focus towards a key line: “I’ll keep having dreams about loveless marriage and regret.” There is no hope on “Swan Dive,” only the fall from grace for which the song is named. At least Crutchfield is giving us incredible music from down in her ditch. [Max]

Gesaffelstein – “Pursuit”

Not a lot of music is as blindly forceful as Gesaffelstein’s propulsive single “Pursuit.” Driven by a slightly over-compressed procession preset, but thrown along by the piercing and undulating tones that bury themselves in your head, the song is a sort of freight train of energy, the rests acting as the sole space to catch a breath. Gesaffelstein (the French born Mike Levy) has worked with Kanye West on some of his fiercer Yeezus tracks, demonstrates what has made him such a powerhouse and go to producer for hyper-aggressive and club-ready songs with “Pursuit.” The song stands apart from the pack with its on-a-dime shifts and the clipped and unnerving use of vocal samples. “Pursuit” is the perfect synthesis of furious EDM, a pulsing discotheque nightmare in the best possible way. [Gary]

Jay-Z & Kanye West – “N****s in Paris”

There are plenty of standouts throughout Watch the Throne, Jay-Z and Kanye West’s collaborative album, but “N****s in Paris” stands out as the clear winner. With Hit-Boy’s instantly memorable synth hook driving the song, Jay-Z and West provide one quotable line after another. It’s full-on, egotistical bragging, and it works. Why? Because both of them earned the rights to brag as much as they want (West just released My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy at the time, and Jay-Z needs no explaining). At first glance, the title Watch the Throne might give off the image of someone trying to be protective. After listening to “N****s in Paris,” the title’s meaning is clear: watch and observe the masters at work. [C.J.]

Chromatics – “Cherry”

Never underestimate the combined powers of an enticing female vocal and low-key electronic melody; the two were created to be together. Case in point: Chromatics. Ruth Radelet sounds like she stepped out of a vintage postcard from the 1970’s, and with her poignant, deeply melancholic, voice manipulated to disperse away like dandelion clocks, “Cherry” captures the heart, swiftly and successfully. Not found on any of the band’s official albums, “Cherry” is one of the band’s three contributions to the second After Dark compilation by their label, Italians Do It Better, and tells the familiar story of Cherry, who “can be very sweet when she needs a friend/But it’s only/A mask she wears so she can pretend.” Adam Miller’s production, with that titillating Italo disco riff filling the void left by Radelet’s redolent voice whenever she isn’t singing, is a striking example of something beautiful and timeless created out of simple compositions. Not to mention how it basks in a kind of retro neon warmth you can practically touch. [Nik]

St. Vincent – “Krokodile”

St. Vincent has come to be known by her feather-light and carbonated indie tracks, a brand that has snagged her a Grammy. But while her sound is rather easy to pick out from the pack, she has been anything but one note. The best example of this arguably being 2012’s Record Store Day single “Krokodile.” The song is a shock to the system, especially for dedicated Annie Clark fans. The track, nearly foaming at the mouth, is an intense and crunchy punk riot, with Clark’s vocals smashed and buried beneath the chugging hurricane of sound. So while St. Vincent has all but created her own genre (one that no doubt carries some eerie undertones), “Krokodile” is a behemoth of a song that proves Clark can rock out with the very best of them. [Gary]

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 (#30 – #21)
Best 50 Songs of the Decade So Far (#10 – #1)