The Best Albums Of 2018

Have you heard of boygenius? They're a new lowkey "supergroup" consisting of singer/songwriters Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker—all of whom have released their own critically-acclaimed albums in the last 15 months. I finally got around to listening to their self-titled EP this week, and it is truly great: a harmony-rich melding of three distinct-but-complementary styles that walks the line between folk balladry and indie rock. I liked it so much and so immediately, I kicked myself for not taking the time to listen to it when it came out in late October. How did I miss this one?! What else have I missed?!

If you haven't heard it yet either—or haven't even heard of them at all—then I'm here to tell you that it's okay. There is such an avalanche of new music released every year, making these year-end lists feels increasingly like a futile gesture, like trying to create order out of limitless chaos. It feels daunting thinking about how, despite my best efforts to listen to as much music as possible at all waking hours, there are tons of great albums I missed out on. Instead of shedding more light on more genres and bands, popular musical conversations revolved around debating inane things like, "Was Lady Gaga's butt song from A Star Is Born really meant to be that bad?" and "Are The 1975 really that awful, or are they so awful they travel 180 degrees and become awfully great?"

So we have these absurd lists—these vain, sincere attempts at organizing a slice of the audible world into manageable portions for people. At best, maybe you'll find something you haven't heard before and discover a new favorite artist, or ever reconsider something you may have written off previously. Or maybe you'll see someone you already like on the list and feel some pleasure in recognition. Or maybe you'll hate my recommendations and yell at me in the comments. Please go for it!

First up, some honorable mentions worth checking out: there were easily 50 or 60 albums that I really, really enjoyed this year (out of, let's say, ~200 or so albums I either partially or fully ingested). This area could fill up to multiple paragraph lengths, so I'll try to keep it brief: the Arctic Monkeys reinvented their entire sound for the better from desert rock riffs to lounge-y sardonic vibes on the exceptional Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino. Frankie Cosmos continued to make music that was too well written and insightful to write-off as "twee" on Vessel. Future released the killer EP-length Beastmode 2 that found him reuniting with producer Zaytoven (who always brings the best out of him). Mac Miller perfected his blend of underwater funk music on Swimming. Courtney Barnett cut back a bit on the word salad but didn't forget the hooks on Tell Me How You Really Feel. Shopping reminded us they are one of the best post-punk bands alive with The Official Body. The Breeders returned after almost a decade with the very strong All Nerve. The Dirty Projectors came out with their most joyous album, Lamp Lit Prose. Robyn could make someone who doesn't love dance pop love dance pop with Honey. Teyana Taylor may have had to deal with a messy album rollout, but the soul chops of KTSE were unforgettable. MGMT released their best album ever by embracing '80s synths on Little Dark Age. Dave East'sParanoia 2 may have been my favorite mixtape of the year. Soccer Mommy took a page from Liz Phair and came out with the constantly catchy Clean. Tirzah showed how to do minimalism right with Devotion. DJ Koze had one of the best electronic albums of the year with Knock Knock. Sheck Wes had the most exciting rap debut with Mudboy. Lil Wayne proved he is still a vital artist with Tha Carter V. Gruff Rhys combined Wild West music and political anxiety on Babelsberg. Flasher's debut album Constant Image had the best kind of political rock. And Eleanor Friedberger kept up her unbroken streak of wonderful solo albums with the Grecian vibes of Rebound.

And below, you'll find 30 or so favorite albums (and a few EPs) of the year in alphabetical order (because I changed my mind too much, too often about the order), plus a few words about why the album mattered to me:

AAL, 2012-2017: Nicolas Jaar, a Chilean-American recording artist based in NYC, has become known for his collage-like, ever-shifting electronic compositions, which can range from extremely minimalistic art projects to "dystopian techno-punk." But this project under the name AAL (Against All Logic) is an unapologetic, joyous dance record. It leans toward house music but sounds warmer; its complex songs are stuffed with obscure soul & funk samples and jammed with hi-hats and kick drums. It's inviting to listeners who aren't necessarily electronic obsessives, and you'd be hard pressed to find more unabashedly happy, layered songs than "Cityfade," "Now U Got Me Hooked" and especially, "I Never Dream."

Amen Dunes, Freedom: Damon McMahon has released other great records (Love in particular) but this was his big breakthrough, in which his droney, reverb-drenched folk sound crystallized into hypnotic rock grooves, almost like a singer/songwriter cousin of The War On Drugs. His voice still has its own Dylan-esque idiosyncrasies, but everything has more clarity and sharpness, and there is an unabashed catchiness to songs like "Blue Rose," "Miki Dora" and "Calling Paul The Suffering" that is addictive. And you can't get better than "Time," which is like if Tunnel Of Love-era Springsteen took mushrooms and tried to write a Velvet Underground song.

Cardi B, Invasion Of Privacy: What if a flex came in human form? Not only was this the most fun album of the year—it also the funniest album of the year ("Said that Cardi is his favorite fragrance/ I'm a rich bitch and I smell like it"). Despite having the world-conquering, charisma-driven singles "Bodack Yellow" and "Bartier Cardi," she didn't rest on her Saint Laurent. There was inspirational Bronx poetry on "Get Up 10," immaculate trap music on "Drip," and one of the summer jams of the year with the jubilant "I Like It." Few other rappers could so masterfully switch between vulnerability ("Be Careful"), gratitude ("Best Life"), and boisterousness ("Bickenhead") as she does.

Beyoncé/Jay-Z, Everything Is Love: It's kind of incredible that a new Beyoncé album dropped out of nowhere on a Saturday in the middle of June...and everyone completely forgot about it by the end of the year. This joint album with her husband (it was billed as "The Carters," even though I've never heard anyone call it that) is an insular, romantic album filled with the lushest production this side of Watch The Throne. My guess is that people tend to take consistent greatness for granted more than not—but what other followup could have possibly lived up to Lemonade? Songs like "SUMMER," "BLACK EFFECT," "BOSS," and "NICE" are really worth revisiting if you haven't, and there's no denying that "APESHIT" is the shit.

Elvis Costello, Look Now: Combining the ambitious arrangements of Imperial Bedroom with the Bacharach-ian melodies of Painted By Memory resulted in Look Now. It's filled with sophisticated piano compositions with ornate melodies, carefully-drawn lyrics, and a lemon slice of bitterness. It's one of the three best Costello albums of the last 30 years, which is a remarkable thing for a guy who not so long ago threatened to never release another album again.

Lucy Dacus, Historian: I can't tell you how many times I found myself pressing repeat on opening song "Night Shift." Dacus questions everything she thought she knew about herself and her ex-lover ("can't lose what you never had") while the music slowly builds and builds to a magnificent, thundering, cathartic crescendo. I don't think there was a better opening track this year—and the rest of the album was just as beautifully constructed. Between this and boygenius, Dacus deserves some sort of prize for hardest working person in rock this year.

Drake, Scorpion: Every time I want to write about Drake, I feel preemptively defensive: Scorpion is too long, it's overstuffed with Spotify-gaming filler, there's no way "Ratchet Happy Birthday" should have been released, Drake is too self-pitying these days, and hell, it's not even his best record! But Drake is a master at what he does, with an overconfident, catchy-as-hell, radio-dominating flow. The massive hits were better than everyone else's hits ("Nice For What," "God's Plan," "Nonstop," "In My Feelings"), there were hidden gems that probably could have been world conquering singles ("Summer Games," "Emotionless," "Can't Take A Joke") and lots of addictive, minimalist album tracks ("Elevate," "Mob Ties," "Blue Tint," "After Dark").

Guided By Voices, Space Gun: Robert Pollard is the greatest rock songwriter of the last thirty years, an uninhibited explorer of the four Ps: pop, punk, psych, and prog. It's easy to take him for granted when he's releasing multiple records a year with various projects, as he has pretty steadily since disbanding GBV the first time in 2004. So it really meant something that Space Gun was the only GBV release of the year, and boy was it a great one—another sign that the current lineup, along with producer Travis Harrison, might be the strongest band Pollard has ever played with. They unleash anthemic classic rock that harkens back to the best of mid-period GBV ("Space Gun," "See My Field"), impossibly catchy and sleazy '70s riffs ("Colonel Paper," "Daily Get Ups"), majestic reverb-drenched curios ("That's Good," "Blink Blank"), Kiwi Rock pop gems ("Ark Technician," "I Love Kangaroos") and heavier prog rock ("Sport Component National," "Evolution Circus"). If you haven't seen them live, I can't recommend it enough—they hit you with one would-be smash hit after another on a Miller Lite-fueled high, which can ensnare even on-the-fence observers.

Khruangbin, Con Todo El Mundo: Psychedelic-tinged mostly instrumental guitar music with a hint of funk that just happens to have better hooks than most rock bands could ever dream of? Sign me the fuck up.

Kids See Ghosts, Kids See Ghosts/Kanye West-ye: These two albums feel so closely linked together, I can't think of them as anything other than two halves of some sort of whole. There's no denying that West had a truly tumultuous, upsetting year filled with public gaffes and Trump-ist nonsense, and I can't blame anyone for being completely turned off by his personality by now. But these two albums, even with their flaws, maybe because of their flaws, are also such remarkably, strangely, compellingly vulnerable ("ReBorn"). There are also such great production choices: the rival samples in "No Mistake," the Louis Prima sample in "4th Dimension," the icy minimalism of "Kids See Ghosts," the frenzied musical bed on "Yikes," the acid rock of "Freeee (Ghost Town Pt. 2)." And I truly believe that "Ghost Town" is one of West's all-time great songs with his soul completely laid bare—it's not a coincidence that the first word in the song sounds like "Donda."

Kendrick Lamar & Friends, Black Panther Soundtrack: Although this soundtrack is officially billed as "various artists," it is for all intents and purposes a Kendrick Lamar project, with Lamar overseeing just about everything on it, including curating the list of fantastic guests (standouts include Jay Rock, SOB X RBE, Vince Staples, Jorja Smith, SZA, Travis Scott, the Weeknd, 2 Chainz and so many more). It feels like both a victory lap for the TDE label, and a consolidation of Lamar's remarkable vision and ability to distill the already-resonant narrative of a Marvel movie into something even greater.

The Internet, Hive Mind/Ravyn Lenae-Crush EP: The Internet are camaraderie personified. Hive Mind, their best album yet, is stuffed to the gills with the absolute funkiest soul grooves around on songs like "Roll (Burbank Funk)," "Come Over" and "La Di Da." The Internet's supremely talented Steve Lacy produced Lenae's wonderful, bubblegum soul EP. I think of her as the band's little sister now, though she also has a lot of the spirit of SZA. Songs like "Sticky" and "Closer (Ode 2 U)" pair her fluttering vocals with a technicolor washed-out funk sound that is bursting with personality.

Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks, Sparkle Hard: Malkmus has been churning out the most charming, effortlessly melodic rock albums for so long, he's become a brand unto himself. The man has yet to release a dud note in his storied career. Sparkle Hard introduced a lot of new colors to his musical array (autotune in "Rattler" and "Brethren," strings on "Solid Silk," Kim Gordon on "Refute"), but he also could rattle off timeless hooks ("Middle America"), kooky time signatures ("Future Suite"), intricate band jams ("Kite") and Pavement-worthy perfection ("Cast Off"). (Check out our interview with Malkmus here.)

Amber Mark, Conexao EP: There must be something really special about Amber Mark if Sade would give her blessing to Mark's soulful cover of "Love Is Stronger Than Pride." One listen to the resilient love songs on this remarkable five-song EP, and you'll hear it too. Her voice really blends beautifully with that wet piano sound. This EP was made for summertimes by the pool.

Mitski, Be The Cowboy: The synths are more new wave, the guitars are more wiry, the climaxes are more cathartic, and the chorus hooks are more unabashedly pop than ever. Mitski struck a chord in a lot of music lovers this year for very good reason, as these songs are filled with a passionate rejection of self-loathing and self-doubting. She has a real way with deconstructing relationships to their bones: "But it's just that I fell in love with a war/ And nobody told me it ended/And it left a pearl in my head/And I roll it around."

Doug Paisley, Starter Home: Through four albums, folksinger Doug Paisley has celebrated the simplest pleasures with his autumnal songs. Everything seems a little more fragile this time around: starter homes stand in as metaphors for stagnated relationships, and drinking with a friend can only do so much. It's gorgeous and a little bleak, but on the second half the clouds of domesticity begin to clear, culminating in "Shadows," where the full band steps out of the shadows and really lets loose.

Parquet Courts, Wide Awake: Parquet Court's full-length debut, Light Up Gold, remains one of the best NYC albums of the last decade—in the records since, they've only made their sound bigger, their lyrics more anxious, and their songs more... songy. Despite hooking up with producer Danger Mouse, this album runs closer to their peppy post-punk roots than something like Broken Bells. It's got tons of classic, shouty Parquet masterpieces that'll make you want to throw your office desk chair through a window ("Total Football," "Almost Had To Start A Fight/In And Out of Patience," "Normalization") or grab a friend and dance awkwardly ("Mardi Gras Beads," "Tenderness," "Wide Awake"). The lyrics are even more political and pointed (“What is an up-and-coming neighborhood and where is it coming from?”). And it also has the majestic, bratty, deeply personal "Freebird II."

Natalie Prass, The Past and the Future: Natalie Prass' self-titled, horn-heavy first album was great...and this is even better! Imagine Karen Carpenter getting down with an airy mid-'70s early disco band, with lyrics attuned to the political atmosphere of the country (but with a mood closer to defiance than depression). There is a specific vibe to "Short Court Style" that is everything I want from music sometimes.

John Prine, The Tree Of Forgiveness: The first album in over 12 years from everyone's favorite quirky uncle was a much-needed reminder of his sturdy mastery. He's just as wry, lowkey funny, and understated as ever. He already has started making plans for when he gets to heaven: "'Cause then I'm gonna get a cocktail: vodka and ginger ale/ Yeah I'm gonna smoke a cigarette that's nine miles long." We can only hope he releases a couple more records before that.

Pusha-T, Daytona: The best pure rap album of the year. The best production out of Kanye West's (overly-ambitious) five album summer run. The most confidant lead-off song in "If You Know You Know." The most vicious one-liners in hip-hop. The most accurate song title ("Hard Piano"). The most confrontational album of the year, and not just because it escalated this summer's unforgettable, operatic Drake/Pusha-T feud. And of course, the best Gordon Ramsey reference: "Exactly what the game's been missin'/ This fire burns hot as Hell's Kitchen, Push."

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, Hope Downs: An Australian band on legendary pacific northwest label Sub Pop who sound like they are carrying on the legacy of The Go-Betweens & R.E.M....in this economy?! After two promising EPs, Rolling Blackouts C.F. delivered an immediately recognizable and yet enthusiastically propulsive debut album. You can't do much better than the one-two-three jangle punch of "An Air Conditioned Man," "Talking Straight" and "Mainland."

Saba, Care For Me: I first got to know Saba from his many appearances on Chance The Rapper tracks before I fell in love with Care For Me. This album has a similarly minimalist, jazz-influenced flow as Chance, but it's less cartoonishly joyful. Ultimately, it's a darker, more heartbroken affair, as with "LIFE," which is dedicated to his cousin who was stabbed to death in Chicago last year. Seeing Saba perform a Tiny Desk Concert is what completely blew me away, so I would recommend starting there.

Travis Scott, Astroworld: Travis Scott, the reverb-drenched Mozart of autotune, ascended to the ranks of the biggest rappers on the planet over the last few years, despite the fact he barely had any great songs to his name. But that all changed with the shockingly cohesive psych-rap of Astroworld, whose best songs are filled with beautiful & jarring production and textures. And he finally got the huge single he craved with "SICKOMODE." Who else could bring Stevie Wonder, Kid Cudi and James Blake together in one song? "Who put this shit together? I'm the glue." (Check out our review of Scott's ASTROWORLD tour here.)

Snail Mail, Lush: Snail Mail's music is an addictive blend of '90s indie rock featuring unspooling, instantly unforgettable guitar melodies—as Lindsey Jordan puts it, she spent a lot of time in the studio getting into the "tone zone" in order to nail her sound. Coupled with Jordan's wise-beyond-her-years lyricism and voice, and you get one of the most exciting debuts in years. (Check out our interview with Jordan here.)

Vince Staples, FM: Staples, one of the best rappers alive, released a perfect summertime album...at the end of the year. These short party songs were full of reckless abandon and fake radio stations and about 20 seconds of new earlsweatshirt, and the lyrics were also completely traumatized. That sleight of hand feels like as good an encapsulation of everything Staples does well: there's always something deeper going on under the surface.

Earl Sweatshirt, Some Rap Songs: What if MF Doom were 30 years younger and only interested in making two minute-long songs? The production on this album is so hazy it's practically lo-fi. Sweatshirt's rhymes keep you off-guard like you just tripped on the sidewalk. His lyrics are introspective and vulnerable and constantly surprising, forcing the listener to lean in really close to hear. And the tribute to uncle Hugh Masekela on "Riot!" is the cherry on top of everything.

Kali Uchis, Isolation: If I had ranked this list, I can assure you this would have been in the top five. Uchis has popped up on countless tracks by artists ranging from Gorillaz to Tyler, The Creator to Diplo, and it'd be an understatement to say she makes everything she touches better. The most amazing thing about this album may be that she can tackle almost any genre—doo-wop/soul ("Flight 22"), R&B ("Tyrant"), indie rock ("In My Dreams"), Spanish bangers ("Nuestro Planeta"), psych rock ("Tomorrow"), and everything and the kitchen sink ("After The Storm")—and turn it into her own.

US Girls, In a Poem Unlimited: Whenever I tried to boil down the sound of Meghan Remy's experimental pop project for people, I came up with the same phrase: sinister ABBA. After experimenting with loops most of her career, her new band-oriented music really embraced a wonderfully sleazy late-'70s vibe. Who else could write a break-up song about Obama and make it this unforgettable:

Kurt Vile, Bottle It In: The Philly-based guitarist's music is defined by his love for long, seemingly improvisatory stretches of intricate guitar lines that seem to stretch out longer than most highways. He's also ridiculously consistent, but I think this album got deeper under my skin because of the increased country-influence, which sure does suit him. (Check out our interview with him here.)

Tierra Whack, Whack World: If you take nothing else away from reading this far down, please watch/listen to Tierra Whack's debut audio-visual project. It's 15 songs in 15 minutes spanning 15 styles; she's funny and weird, she's got a restless creativity, she can rap and sing as well as anyone performing today, and I can't wait to see what she does next.

Yo La Tengo, There's a Riot Going On: It feels like Yo La Tengo created these songs out of textures and fragments (which is...basically true), which meant that on first listen, this seemed like one of their dreamier releases, more mood than songs. But every time I've revisited it, I've found something new to love, whether it's the chimes & loops of "Ashes," the Beach Boys-esque whisper of "Let's Do It Wrong," or the gorgeous deconstructed doo-wop of "Forever." (Check out our piece of Yo La Tengo's Hanukkah shows here.)

What did you listen to this year?