Our Annual Report kicks off with our list of the Best Albums of 2023. As the year winds down, stay tuned for more awards, lists, and interviews about the best music, film, and TV 2023 had to offer. You can find it all in one place here.
If you follow music closely, you’ve probably heard the question a lot this year: Where have all the big albums gone?
There are a couple of ways to think about this. The first is simple: The best albums haven’t gone anywhere, you just didn’t hear them in 2023. That’s why you’re reading this list (thanks!). But that feeling — the broad sense that it’s harder to agree on music these days — might signal the death of the musical monoculture.
For a few odd decades following World War II, Americans mostly read the same news, watched the same movies and TV shows, and listened to a similar range of music. This shared political and artistic identity, sometimes called monoculture, probably peaked in the US in 1983, when 106 million people tuned in to the last episode of M*A*S*H. Things had changed dramatically by 2019, when the finale of one of the most popular shows on TV, Game of Thrones, drew 19 million viewers. The Ringer declared Game of Thrones “The Very Last Piece of the TV Monoculture,” and that might have been too generous; even then, most people’s attention was split elsewhere. Now we spend more time in front of screens than ever before, and the algorithms all but ensure no two of us ever see the same things.
But music had proved an exception. Beyoncé is an international sensation, BTS are breaking records set by The Beatles, and Taylor Swift is on target for the highest-grossing tour of all time. Granted, rock and hip-hop have both been healthier, but Kendrick Lamar is still headlining festivals and Bruce Springsteen is still selling out stadiums. Music remains universal — at least on the surface.
With apologies to a few BTS solo projects and Taylor’s Versions, none of those artists put out albums this year. And the military enlistment of BTS has left an even bigger hole in the ranks of Gen Z superstars. Ten years ago, Swift, Selena Gomez, Kendrick Lamar, Hayley Williams, Justin Bieber, and so many others had recently broken out. Olivia Rodrigo put out a great album this year, but what about her peers? Does she even have peers?
Perhaps this is just an odd time in music as a younger generation finds itself. Or perhaps we now get our music in too many different ways to agree on much of anything. It takes a big audience of agreeing people to create new superstars. And without big audiences, albums that “feel” big may be a thing of the past.
Then again, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. It ensures that lists like this are different from each other, and perhaps makes them better resources, too, as more of the greatest records come from less-known artists. We certainly didn’t mind; even with fewer household names, 2023 was one of the finest years for music we can remember. Check out the best albums of 2023 below.
—Wren Graves
Features Editor
50. PJ Harvey — I Inside the Old Year Dying
On her 10th studio album, I Inside the Old Year Dying, PJ Harvey strives for newness without veering off too far from the familiar. Revisiting her 2022 epic poem Orlam made room for a personal and transformative record, a testament to her genius. All 12 tracks are written in the same rural Dorset vernacular and follow the protagonist’s coming-of-age story, alluding to Harvey’s desire for reinvention. While her captivating poetry remains at the forefront, the backdrop of eerie field recordings and minimalist instrumentation allow for a more tranquil effort; tracks such as “Prayer at the Gate” and “Lownesome Tonight” have gentle tones, while “All Souls” and “A Noiseless Noise” are rather chilling. Yet it still stands strong amongst her previous concept-centric entries, making PJ Harvey’s first proper release in seven years well worth the wait. — Sun Noor
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49. Deeper — Careful!
Deeper’s third album and their first for Sub Pop is knotty, frenzied, and utterly crisp. The Chicago post-punk quartet write itch-scratching guitar riffs with an almost scientific precision, but their evolving structures and impressive full-band dynamics act as an element of surprise. Vocalist Nic Gohl conjures singular, evocative images, alternating between tension and release sometimes within the same couplet. As an album titled Careful! suggests, there’s a wariness that characterizes many of these songs — still, they find ways to burst with clarity, control, and catharsis. The climax of lead single “Build a Bridge” seems to say it best: “It’s the right kind of rhythm.” — Paolo Ragusa
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48. Baroness — Stone
For the first time in their two-decade career, southern metal mainstays Baroness have used the same lineup for two consecutive albums. The newest addition, lead guitarist Gina Gleason, sets the tone early with a twisting guitar solo on “Last Word,” simultaneously seeming like nothing Baroness have done before and like a perfect encapsulation of their modern sound. Stone is as pummeling and tuneful as just about anything in their discography, so here’s hoping this isn’t the last we’ve heard from this configuration. — W. Graves
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47. André 3000 — New Blue Sun
Many times throughout New Blue Sun, you’ll hear melodies that could only have come from the same genius as “Hey Ya!” and “Ms. Jackson,” and you can imagine, if you like, the radio hits that might have been. But André Benjamin could not bring himself to make that kind of music anymore, as he lays out in the title of the album’s opening track, “I swear, I Really Wanted to Make a ‘Rap’ Album But This Is Literally the Way the Wind Blew Me This Time.” Through almost the entire 87-minute run time, you can hear that literal wind blowing, as his flute and ambient soundscapes mediate on themes like “Ants to You, Gods to Who?” and “…That night in Hawaii When I Turned into a Panther…” Love it or hate it — and it’s easy to love — New Blue Sun will be talked about for decades to come. — W. Graves
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46. Troye Sivan — Something to Give Each Other
Initially, Troye Sivan’s third album might just seem like beats designed to be dropped into a sexy night at the club — and it delivers that, no question, especially with opening track “Rush.” However, it’s a more introspective musical experience than you’d expect, with songs like “Can’t Go Back, Baby” and “One of Your Girls” speaking to the pop artist’s soulful side. Sivan has something to say about the world, but he’s also not afraid of a good time, and those two facts blend together into an elegant whole here. — Liz Shannon Miller
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45. Asake — Work of Art
The 2023 album from Nigerian singer-songwriter Asake sounds like summer itself. The Afrobeats artist knocks it out of the park with Work of Art, a meticulously cohesive listen that hooks the listener from the beginning and refuses to let go. There’s only one guest appearance on the project — on the now Grammy-nominated “Amapiano,” which features Nigerian rapper Olamide — while the remainder of the album is an invigorating journey through warmth and water, with Asake alone as our guide. Even as the seasons turn cooler, his is a lead you just can’t stop following. — Mary Siroky
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44. boygenius — the record
Phoebe, Lucy, and Julien are the biggest names in folk rock since Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young (R.I.P. and all respect to the “little bitch.”) On the supergroup’s debut album, the record, they sound self-aware about this fact, critically engaging with inspirations such as “Leonard Cohen,” Sheryl Crow (“Not Strong Enough”), and a predatory “special” older musician (“Letter to an Old Poet.”) The your-turn my-turn approach to sequencing works because each of them does so well with their turns, and tunes like “Not Strong Enough,” $20,” and “Emily I’m Sorry,” seem destined to go down as classics. — W. Graves
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43. Sprain — The Lamb as Effigy or Three Hundred and Fifty XOXOXOS for a Spark Union with My Darling Divine
One of the grandest statements of the year, Sprain’s The Lamb as Effigy is a towering, challenging, artful monolith. Clocking in at 96 minutes and taking queues from ambient, contemporary classical, sludge metal, slowcore, and more, the record constructs its own self-contained universe of sonic anxiety. At times, it’s crushing, at others, sublime — but throughout, it’s utterly stunning. It seems likely that The Lamb as Effigy will be Sprain’s swan song, and if that’s the case, what a glorious project on which to go out. — Jonah Krueger
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42. Margaret Glaspy — Echo the Diamond
Critical consensus claims there’s been a void in the New York City scene since the Meet Me in the Bathroom era. If we take that for granted, it means artists like Margaret Glaspy are being criminally slept on. With her third full-length, Echo the Diamond, Glaspy has delivered an immaculate amalgamation of the city’s finest moments in blues, grit, and Americana. Self-produced alongside her partner, Julian Lage (whose The Layers, which Glaspy also produced, is up for a 2024 Grammy), it’s rough enough to platform the authentic rawness of Glaspy’s vocals and crisp enough to elevate the lyrics’ soulful sincerity. Those looking for artistry in NYC again best press play. — Ben Kaye
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41. L’Rain — I Killed Your Dog
There’s a reason most horror film fanatics are more receptive to watching a human decapitation than an injured house pet. On I Killed Your Dog, L’Rain leans into grotesque, real-life terrors, apparently flirting with the most extreme pains humankind can inflict on one another – but more often than not, she’s her own villain in these stories. Through spellbinding, soulful dream-pop, L’Rain explores what we can only assume are just some of her darkest thoughts. She even envisions her own corpse propped up with sunglasses on, but that’s the last of her worries: “I just need a piece of brain/ That I am missing in my head,” she murmurs through a creepy vocoder on “I Hate My Best Friends,” calling to mind a zombie’s dinner as much as a bout of helpless despair. Either way, L’Rain implies she doesn’t feel human, making these earthly trepidations all the more perturbing. — Abby Jones
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40. JPEGMAFIA & Danny Brown — SCARING THE HOES
The title track of SCARING THE HOES sees those words hurled at the album’s two MCs, apparently not for the first time. They’re told, “Stop scarin’ the hoes/ Play that shit that’ll have them touch they toes/ We don’t wanna hear that weird shit no more/ What the fuck is that? Give me back my aux cord.” Luckily, the two underground kings ignore the pleading and team up for a full collaborative LP of “that weird shit.” With left-field lyrics, bonkers beats, and certified bangers like “Lean Beef Patty” and “Garbage Pale Kids,” hip-hop’s boundaries have rarely been pushed with this much joy. — W. Graves
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39. Foo Fighters — But Here We Are
Foo Fighters have been going through it. The band’s turbulent last few years forced Dave Grohl to look in the mirror and try to make sense of it all — loss, aging, existence, the whole gamut. On But Here We Are, Foo Fighters’ first album in two decades without Taylor Hawkins, they don’t sound like senior rock stars with false positivity and blind optimism. They sound angry, confused, desperate, even apathetic. “I gave you my heart/ But here we are,” Grohl howls on the title track, a reference to the futility of our relationships against death and fate. Yet, Grohl does not sing “But here I am”; there’s a lot of power in his “we” — not just his band, but all of us listening, we’re still here. Sometimes, all that’s needed is a reminder that we are not alone. — P. Ragusa
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38. Hotline TNT — Cartwheel
Though many of Cartwheel’s songs are about feeling dejected or heartbroken, there is an overwhelming warmth to Hotline TNT’s Third Man Records debut. It’s a powerful, hook-heavy shoegaze experiment that pays off in surprising ways; even in the sheer magnitude of the album’s volume, there are washy detours that seem to crack these songs wide open. “I Thought You’d Change,” one of the album’s several highlights, revolves around a cyclical descending riff that develops into a passionate chorus almost a measure too soon. And yet, amid blown out drums, crunchy guitars, and a wall of fuzz, everything seems to flow seamlessly — a perfect summation of Hotline TNT’s sticky, exceptional songwriting. — P. Ragusa
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37. Genesis Owusu — Struggler
Genesis Owusu wants to know if you’ve ever felt like a cockroach fleeing the looming boot of God. Existential, absurd, and (somehow) incredibly fun, the CoSigned artists’ sophomore release tells that exact story over the course of 11 infectious tracks, dipping into everything from disco to punk to hip-hop along the way. Even beyond the strength of its narrative through-line, STRUGGLER showcases an artist brimming with ideas, unsatisfied to stay in any one lane. With results this good, Owusu can have all the lanes he likes. — J. Krueger
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36. Killer Mike — Michael
Following a long, 11-year wait since his last self-credited LP, R.A.P. Music, 2023 finally saw Killer Mike making his solo return — though a crowd of guests (Young Thug, André 3000, 2 Chainz, Jagged Edge, and RTJ cohort El-P, to name a few) help add more layers to the work. MICHAEL shows the rapper at the top of his game, with the same kind of bar-for-bar rapping that fans of RTJ will appreciate, all while allowing more insight into his own life. Highlights, such as the standout single “MOTHERLESS,” show him at his most emotional, exploring themes like the important role Black women have played in his life. Proving to be worth the wait, this collection of personal tracks stands as one of the most memorable rap albums of this year. — Aidan Sharp-Moses
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35. Water from Your Eyes — Everyone’s Crushed
The buzzy, CoSigned Brooklynites Water from Your Eyes treat indie rock like a LEGO set, one where they carefully studied the instructions before swiftly chucking those silly “rules” into the bin to instead build an abstract representation of an emotion for which English has no name. It’s chaotic but freeing, and on Everyone’s Crushed, the duo has ascended to the top of their game, sounding entirely uninhibited by anything save their own whims. It’s a joy to listen to, and even more of a joy to revisit in an attempt to decipher everything that made your head spin on the first go around. Months after its release, and we’re still finding new ways to be crushed. — J. Krueger
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34. Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, & Shahzad Ismaily — Love in Exile
Composers Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, and Shahzad Ismaily united for on of the year’s most deeply meditative journeys with Love in Exile. The album’s seven movements are sewn together with subdued bass, synth, and striking piano elements, creating haunting dreamscapes and celestial pockets of peace through which Aftab’s poignant vocals guide the listener. Opener “To Reamin/To Return” slowly brings you towards a stirring ascension, the record’s even pacing building the emotion as it reaches the crescendo on “Sharabi.” Throughout, the artistic union explores the range of its individual members, finding innovative ways to bring their distinct gifts together. Love in Exile is the first offering from an undoubtedly immaculate collaboration that we can only hope grows stronger with time. — S. Noor
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33. Young Fathers — Heavy Heavy
Heavy Heavy feels thoroughly of the now, only bestowed on 2023 by time-traveling aliens from the future. Carrying the considerable weight of modernity on the back of post-genre fusion, it thrash-dances with optimistic disquiet. That’s the magic trick of Young Fathers — the exuberance in their ballistic blend of soul, post-punk, hip-hop, and pure insanity. We’ve all become too versed in maintaining hope in the face of *gestures around*, and this Scottish trio perfectly captures that duality. Although it may not provide answers for all it anxieties and fears and uncertainties, the album stands firm in its empathetic exultation of all that can be. — B. Kaye
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32. Blondshell — Blondshell
Into each generation, a girl rocker is born — actually, more than a few. But singer/songwriter Sabrina Teitelbaum stands out for the way in which she delivers ’90s vibes while singing about watching Veronica Mars as a child in 2004 — or, if not a child, still young enough to just be discovering one of life’s core truths: “Logan’s a dick/ I’m learning that’s hot.” With a confessional spirit and lyrics that take a straightforward approach to their subject matter, Blondshell speaks more loudly with her self-titled studio album than some people do in a lifetime. — L.S. Miller
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31. Janelle Monáe — The Age of Pleasure
There’s something so sumptuous about Janelle Monáe’s music. It comes out more than ever in The Age of Pleasure, a 14-song album that feels like a beach vacation when you listen to it. Full of an ever-present, vibrating joy, tracks like “Float” and “Black Sugar Beach” deliver a party vibe, while “Lipstick Lover” and “Know Better” offer up more introspection. It’s all very much of a piece, a true collection of individual songs that, combined, create a sonically addictive whole — all from the voice of a creator who fully knows who they are at this point in time, and takes nothing but pride and joy in that identity. — L.S. Miller
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30. Earl Sweatshirt & The Alchemist — Voir Dire
Back in 2019, The Alchemist excited fans by alluding to the existence of a joint album with frequent collaborator Earl Sweatshirt hidden on YouTube. The duo followed that same elusive spirit by initially only making Voir Dire available on an NFT platform — but the music itself doesn’t play into such gimmicks. Rather than experimenting with obscure samples, The Alchemist’s scaled back instrumentals allow listeners to better latch onto Earl’s circuitous flow and intricate lyrics. The MC goes deep in his rhymes about addiction, depression, and the family that motivates him to push forward. Altogether, it’s a far more intimate record than its initial blockchain distribution might suggest. — Eddie Fu
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29. Indigo De Souza — All of This Will End
Since the first song on her I Love My Mom debut, “How I Get Myself Killed,” Indigo De Souza has been thinking about the end of it all. Five years and two albums later, she doesn’t have too many more leads when it comes to oblivion (“I don’t have answers, no one does,” she sings on the All of This Will End title track), but she’s managed to find some semblance of comfort in that fact. Despite the feelings of anger and depression that flare up throughout the record, De Souza ultimately delivers a project about coming to terms with the worst aspects of life — or at least the process of attempting to accomplish such a feat. And even without answers, what a beautiful process it is. — J. Krueger
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28. Olivia Rodrigo — GUTS
In 2010, an 18-year-old Miley Cyrus took a salvia hit from a bong during a party at her house in California, a state where the psychoactive herb was legal. A video of her tripping made it to TMZ, turning into one of the biggest celebrity scandals of the year. Olivia Rodrigo became a Disney Channel star around the same age Cyrus did, and by 18, she was experiencing much of the turmoil she’d write about for her sophomore album, GUTS. Many of Rodrigo’s confessions on the record would have also earned her tabloid headlines: getting drunk at the club, trying out SSRIs, the time she hooked up with her ex, the time she hooked up with her ex again. By packaging these into her playful brand of pop-rock, the former child actor proves that such so-called “controversies” were just growing up, and that what’s really at issue is the presumption that young women, even famous ones, aren’t allowed to fuck up. GUTS is 12 consecutive songs of Rodrigo’s fuck-ups – but she always sticks the landing. — A. Jones
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27. Agust D — D-DAY
The third and (potentially) final outing from SUGA of BTS under his alter-ego moniker of Agust D is some of his finest work yet as a soloist. D-DAY is an exercise in forgiveness from the rapper, who embraces the natural progression from the fury of his self-titled debut project and melancholic reflection of sophomore record D-2 to ultimately arrive at a place of healing. The ethos of D-DAY is not that this journey is an easy one, but that the messy work of cultivating inner peace is ultimately worth it — and by the end of the record, the listener can’t help but believe SUGA when he says that the future’s gonna be okay. — M. Siroky
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26. Kara Jackson — Why Does the Earth Give Us People to Love?
The organic nature of Kara Jackson’s music is bolstered by her background as a poet. Why Does the Earth Give Us People to Love? is a particularly exciting installment from a writer like her — that is, one who consistently sounds wise beyond her years in her work. There’s a deceivingly formless quality to this 2023 project, which lends it the energy of a glance into someone’s personal journal. Consider a line from “dickhead blues,” where Jackson admits, “I’m not as worthless as I once thought/ I am pretty top-notch/ I’m useful.” Somewhere between country-folk and spoken word, the project clocks in at just under an hour — but with such personal revelations, it feels like one of 2023’s most memorable hours of work. — M. Siroky
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25. Lana Del Rey — Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean blvd
Since creating her own Americana-tinged brand of pop music, Lana Del Rey has found herself on a roll following her 2019 masterwork Norman Fucking Rockwell, releasing a worthy successor with …Ocean Blvd. From the sprawling “A&W,” which effortlessly combines elements of trap with her usual pop melodrama, to gorgeous and heartbreaking collaborations like “Candy Necklace” with Jon Batiste and “Let the Light In” with Father John Misty, the artist shows that she can still take her music to new places. In the 11 years since her Born to Die debut, she continues to come across as a character, but proves that said character is one of the most interesting artists in the world of pop. — A. Sharp-Moses
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24. ANOHNI and the Johnsons — My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross
You wish we didn’t, but the world still needs records like Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On. In 2023, ANOHNI rebuilt The Johnsons to fulfill that existential demand with My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross. Forging a fresh, stirring barque soul sound directly inspired by Gaye, ANOHNI finds the most accessible sonic palate yet for her heartbreaking truths. The beauty here, as it so often is with this singular artist, is the sorrow on display isn’t meant for wallowing. Loss feels interminable, socio-politics are regressing, and the Earth itself seems to be spinning towards the end, but sharing the experience can be nourishing — and empowering. — B. Kaye
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23. Feeble Little Horse — Girl with Fish
“Genreless” feels like an increasingly useless word in a landscape where bands pop up left and right exploring the intersection between their guitar-filled jam sessions and the glitchy cacophony of Internet culture. But few, if any, are pulling off that schtick as well as Feeble Little Horse, whose third album, Girl with Fish, seems tailor-made for those who wish they could hear Alex G or My Bloody Valentine for the first time again. Equal parts whimsical and ominous, Girl with Fish puts at the forefront all of the band’s most evident strengths: addictive hooks, boundless production, lyrics seemingly lifted from a gothic novel. The album isn’t just a “genreless” exploration of indie rock – it indicates that Feeble Little Horse represent the future of the genre itself. — A. Jones
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22. Raye — My 21st Century Blues
One of the most inventive pop albums of the year, My 21st Century Blues truly has something for everyone. While some listeners were hooked by the ultra-viral social success of “Escapism.,” there’s so much more to love here, from the bluesy optimism of “Worth It.” to Gospel-inspired boldness of “Buss It Down.” RAYE feels built for the nostalgic drama here, which is structured as a nod to vintage supper clubs. There’s another level of triumph to My 21st Century Blues in the fact that it’s RAYE’s first independent album after a hard-won battle to extricate herself from a former label. The intimate notes in “Ice Cream Man.” and “Body Dysmorphia.” underscore the personal nature of the project, one that has earned on-repeat status for years to come. — M. Siroky
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21. noname — Sundial
noname has never shied away from telling it as it is, and Sundial paints an honest reflection of her complex identity — especially as it relates to the hip-hop landscape. “Driftin’ in and out of consciousness like the rappers do/ She a rapper too,” she says on the opening track, “black mirror,” laying the foundation for this introspective record. Even when she takes aim at other rappers’ questionable endorsements on “namesake,” noname is able to reflect on her own poor decisions: “Coachella stage got sanitized/ I said I wouldn’t perform for them/ And somehow I still fell in line.” As she touches on themes of injustice, the over-commodification of art, and the struggles of Black womanhood, that quick wit exudes self-awareness, making Sundial one of the most insightful and engaging hip-hop projects of the year. — S. Noor
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20. Metallica — 72 Seasons
Gone are the ambitions and pretensions of St. Anger and Death Magnetic. Gone, too, are the critics who said Metallica were only doing it for the money; they have large enough fortunes to swim through them like metal Scrooge McDucks, yet still return again and again to long days in the studio and lonely nights on the road. Past the point of caring about their legacies, our April cover stars are writing for fun again, and over 40 years after their scrappy beginnings, Metallica still have the most fun playing fucking fast. 72 Seasons is a 77-minute ripper packed full of expansive, pummeling tracks. Alongside the excellent Hardwired… to Self-Destruct, Metallica are quietly… well, loudly putting together one of the great late-period runs in hard rock history. — W. Graves
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19. Jessie Ware — That! Feels Good!
Jessie Ware is keeping the spirit of disco alive and well in the year 2023, and bless her for it. There are few songs as easily addictive as “Free Yourself” out there right now, a track so timeless that you may think it’s vintage Diana Ross upon first hearing it. Those same retro beats drive the whole album, a pulse-pounding good time that shifts from a samba for “Begin Again” to really revving things up with “Freak Me Now.” It’s just a non-stop good time, something we could all use in times like these. That, and a healthy dose of conga drums. — L.S. Miller
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18. Slowdive — everything is alive
After making their grand comeback six years ago with their stunning self-titled album, Slowdive return with yet another dazzling, evocative shoegaze masterwork. Although everything is alive is not necessarily as life-affirming as its title suggests, it is overwhelmingly emotional — as all Slowdive albums are. The British band’s patience, concentrated soundscapes, and blooming crescendos are a result of decades of experience, both in music and as human beings. Songs like “prayer remembered” and “skin in the game” are profound exercises in sorrow, loss, and resilience, with each resolving chord serving as a cathartic exhale. With everything is alive, Slowdive have shown that after 30 years, they have not lost that magic touch that made so many yearning souls fall in love with them — they’ve enhanced it, and in the long process, aged like fine wine. — P. Ragusa
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17. Jamila Woods — Water Made Us
Jamila Woods has called her third studio album “the most personal and vulnerable piece of art I’ve ever made.” Indeed, where Water Made Us excels is its intimacy, with almost confessional moments exploding into toe-tapping earworms. All of Woods’ third full-length is engrossing and powerful, its songs speaking to a soul-deep inspiration — yet there’s still room for play, as it’s hard to think of a more instantly addictive song than “Practice.” There’s also the bittersweet yet sweetly funny “I Miss All My Exes”; not everyone who listens will remember an ex who smells like “cannabis smoke, argan oil, rosewater, sweat,” but we all remember having an ex who was “why I look at the camera like I’m in love.” — L.S. Miller
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16. yeule — softscars
On softscars, yeule seems to ponder similar concepts to Björk’s 1999 music video for “All Is Full of Love.” The album finds the cyborg-obsessed Singaporean artist wondering, “What is it really like to feel fully human?” The short answer: It hurts. By way of brilliantly crafted, grungy art-pop (there are references to both Radiohead and Aphex Twin), softscars bemoans being “25 and traumatized” thanks to ill-fated experiments with hard drugs, mourning friends who’ve passed away, and other grisly encounters that have all contributed to a fear of handcuffs and hospitals. yeule might still feel at odds with their own body, but they also find a spec of relief in the ability to sense pain, however deep it goes: “You stabbed me right in the chest/ And made me bleed,” they sing on the title track. “It’s pastel pink, it’s sweet, I think?” — A. Jones
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15. Joy Oladokun — Proof of Life
At Lollapalooza this year, Joy Oladukun humbly summed herself up as someone who “gets high and writes songs in my attic.” This is perhaps true but incomplete, so allow us to add that she has an unparalleled gift for soaring melodies and a philosopher’s preoccupation with death. Sometimes those endings feel more metaphorical than literal, like on “Keeping the Light On,” which wades into the difficulties of just paying bills over a topline that sounds like sunshine itself. Elsewhere, on the uproarious chant-along of “We’re All Gonna Die,” Oladokun faces mortality with a smile. “We’re all gonna die tryna figure it out,” she sings alongside her tour buddy Noah Kahan, and the freedom in the melody is the freedom of waving goodbye to expectations and pressure. Proof of Life shines all the brighter because it so often acknowledges the darkness. — W. Graves
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14. 파란노을 (Parannoul) — After the Magic
South Korean phenom 파란노을, aka Parannoul, still remains in general anonymity. By releasing this maximalist journey as the followup to their To See the Next Part of the Dream breakout, however, it feels like the layers are slowly being peeled away, giving more insight into the person behind the music. Expanding on their midwest emo/bedroom pop mix, the artist finds a way to both sidestep and surpass any expectations, particularly on highlights such as “Arrival,” which takes their sound to new heights. An ethereal trip into the hidden mind of the musician, Parannoul gives us another fleeting glimpse of them with this fantastic album. — A. Sharp-Moses
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13. Kelela — Raven
Following a six-year hiatus, Kelela returned this year with sophomore album Raven, an ode to artistic rebirth and dance music. The alluring collection of songs are informed by the songwriter’s experience as a Black femme existing in the dance space and her shift towards reclamation. On the deeply personal title track, she sings of the enduring process of overcoming difficult cycles: “Took all my labor, don’t tell me that I’m strong/ You’ll never wake up, your silence lasts so long.” The water motifs in the opening interlude, “Washed Away,” and its reprisal in closing track “Far Away,” encapsulate the recurring theme of freedom that flows effortlessly throughout the album. With Raven, Kelela has crafted a record for those who find solace on the dance floor. — S. Noor
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12. Paris Texas — MID AIR
On their debut full-length album, Paris Texas further refine their sonic identity of mixing grunge guitars with frantic melodies and even more frantic rhymes. Brimming with chaotic energy, MID AIR doesn’t slow down until the final two tracks: the brooding “Ain’t No High” and anthemic “…We Fall.” Prior songs like “PANIC!!!” and “BULLET MAN” address the weight of trauma and paranoia, belying the sense of humor Louie Pastel and Felix also show on “Lana Del Rey,” a cheeky acknowledgment of the singer’s own song, “Paris, Texas.” Showcasing all the facets of these two MCs, MID AIR feels like the work of a rap duo truly on the rise. — E. Fu
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11. Ratboys — The Window
The Window is indie self-actualization; it’s the work of a band who have so fully realized their sound that they might as well file a trademark for “the Ratboys vibe.” Over 11 songs, the Chicago quartet distills complex emotions of love and loss into a nearly endless series of touching hooks, sticky refrains, and moments of guitar-driven catharsis. Be it the high-energy rocker “Empty,” the honky-tonky “Morning Zoo,” or the eight-and-a-half-minute barn-burner “Black Earth, WI,” Ratboys are in rare form, resulting in one of the most addictive records of 2023. — J. Krueger
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10. Poison Ruïn — Härvest
Lots of punk and hardcore bands sing about how life sucks, but only CoSigned group Poison Ruïn says, “You are no different than a medieval serf.” In fact, the whole record taps into feudal imagery as it tears apart the modern world. This kind of dark ages iconography might be more common in metal spaces, but there’s something universal about raging against a system that doesn’t care if you live or die. Thrash out to “Pinnacle of Ecstasy” and “Härvest” and bow down, peasant. — W. Graves
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09. Mitski — The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We
Despite its gloomy title, Mitski’s latest effort brims with life. Perhaps the accomplished songwriters’ rootsiest, warmest project yet, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We is far from a soundtrack of despair. Despite lyrical detours into the darkness — particularly on the self-deprecating “I’m Your Man” — the country-tinged instrumentals are simply too beautiful to allow for wallowing, Mitski’s perspective too empathetic for anxious spiraling. It’s a project that elicits tears not from mere sadness, but from the overwhelming viewpoint of omnisciently watching the ship go down while still knowing love lives in your heart. As Mitski sings, that love is yours, all yours, and that’s quite a profound sentiment to take solace in. — J. Krueger
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08. Zach Bryan — Zach Bryan
On the heels of 2022’s staggering 34-track American Heartbreak, Zach Bryan was already a full-fledged country music star. Since delivering another 16 tracks on an equally excellent self-titled LP just a year later, the demand for his live shows has become overwhelming. It all comes back to the undeniable authenticity by which his songwriting is characterized; when he laments the working man’s struggle in “Overtime,” it doesn’t feel phony or forced. “Hey Driver,” his excellent collaboration with The War and Treaty, is as much a vocal feast as it is a storytelling journey. His team-up with Kacey Musgraves (“I Remember Everything”) should, in a just world, spawn a full collaborative project from the two. When too many of the male voices coming out of Music Row belong to people who like to cosplay as working class for a check, Zach Bryan is another deeply refreshing reminder of how great country music can be when it’s coming from a place of honesty. — M. Siroky
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07. McKinley Dixon — Beloved! Paradise! Jazz?
Inspired by Toni Morrison’s trilogy of novels with the same names, McKinley Dixon’s mesmerizing, musically dense Beloved! Paradise! Jazz!? is filled with both extraordinary comfort and passionate dissonance. Dixon bares his soul while disguising his stories in repeated motifs, vivid images, and occasional humor. As he did on his previous record, For My Mama and Anyone Who Look Like Her, he meditates on the Black American experience with profound detail and introspective vulnerability. Violence and death become interchangeable with community and ecstasy; death in particular is a big focus on Beloved, and Dixon finds nuanced ways to show it looming around the corner in each song. But, as Dixon recalls in the phenomenal title track, “When I was standing on the edge about to fall off that cliff/ What kept me on was looking up and seeing my hand in your grip” — an earnest, palpable image of connection amidst carnage and uncertainty. It’s his best album yet, and one of the most expansive hip-hop albums of the year. — P. Ragusa
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06. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit — Weathervanes
We were blown away by the scorchers on Sides A and B on our first few listens, but the longer we sit with Weathervanes, the more we sink into the slow-simmering introspection of Sides C and D. No matter where you drop the needle, the whole album sounds just as masterful as when it arrived in June (and put Jason Isbell on our cover), capturing stories, characters, and a desperate world all undergoing violent transitions. For the first time since his early wild days, Isbell produced the record himself, and the results both integrate The 400 Unit more seamlessly than ever before and introduce new sounds and studio tricks. The closing track, “Miles,” leaves the listener thinking about change. “You didn’t even see the hand that turned the page,” Isbell repeats, “The hand that turned the page.” Even as we welcome Isbell’s latest thrilling era, he is already moving on — which just makes what comes next that much more exciting. — W. Graves
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05. Caroline Polachek — Desire, I Want to Turn Into You
Caroline Polachek designed Desire, I Want to Turn Into You to be an intimate experience. From the outset, we are welcomed to her “island” — cerulean waters, buzzing wildlife, primal chants, an enchanting mecca of desire. She continues to paint an effervescent portrait of what this “desire” feels like, in a vocabulary that only Polachek and her producer Danny L Harle can muster. “Blood and Butter” combines rich imagery with wanderlust and a bagpipe solo, “Butterfly Net” finds Polachek bathing in an all-encompassing light reflection, and “Billions” closes the album with the stunned, deeply earnest confession: “I’ve never felt so close to you.”
It’s in these consuming features that Polachek’s thesis comes into focus: Within such intense desire is the capacity to shed your own identity, to transform into someone you never thought you could be. These themes are a way for Polachek to transcend her own artistic limits, as evidenced by the opening cry in “Welcome to My Island” and her nimble, siren-esque soprano throughout the album. She takes ample sonic risks while also taking her avant-pop sound in some nostalgic directions, evoking “Tom’s Diner,” the Twin Peaks soundtrack, early 2000s bubblegum pop, and Dido (who shows up for a gentle and brief cameo in “Fly to You”). It is Polachek’s most indelible album, her most passionate, and a courageous and vivid exploration of desire in all its forms. — P. Ragusa
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04. billy woods & Kenny Segal — Maps
billy woods is on a hell of a run. One half of Armand Hammer, who released the excellent We Buy Diabetic Test Strips in the fall, and the founder of the ever-thrilling Backwoodz Studioz label, it seems anything woods touches is bound to be experimental, exciting, and (frankly) excellent.
Topping his list of 2023 accomplishments is Maps, the rapper’s collaboration with Kenny Segal. A skittering, jazz-sampling, kaleidoscopic collection of tracks, Maps isn’t just one of the most creative hip-hop releases of the year — it’s one of the most rewarding. It’s the meeting of two artists at the height of their powers battling it out to see who can impress the listener the most, woods with his hard-hitting bars or Segal with his ear-candy production. The winner? Anyone who hits play. — J. Krueger
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03. Sufjan Stevens — Javelin
For years many Sufjan Stevens lamented the lost cartographer — the artist who sketched out two of the 50 states before abandoning the map. Now, it’s hard to imagine how we ever thought he could be limited to physical geography. There have been other midwestern folk heroes who paved the way for Michigan and Illinois, but there has never been anything like Javelin, a culmination of a lifetime of experiments and experiences.
The album begins with “Goodbye Evergreen” and stripped-back pianos and voice. But when he sings, “Deliver me from the poisoned pain,” the song cracks open in an electronic eruption, setting our expectations early: anything is possible. Stevens clearly relishes his mastery over different kinds of music, building on Illinois’ symphonic folk and the electronic playfulness of The Age of Adz to create something instantly recognizable, a genre unto itself.
Stevens has also gotten a lot of practice as bewildered survivor and speaker for the dead, and Javelin was dedicated to his late partner Evans Richardson, who passed away in April. He hasn’t provided enough context to know when the songs were written or which, if any, were reactions to that death. But clearly grief weighs on his mind, and he returns to some of the same ground he explored on his last singer-songwriter project, Carrie & Lowell. “So rest your head,” he croons in “So You Are Tired,” “Turning back all that we had in our life/ While I return to death.” But Javelin isn’t a concept album and it’s certainly not dour, rippling with beauty and joy. Stevens is more than a folk writer, digital composer, or eulogist. But never have all those different parts of himself coexisted with such grace. — W. Graves
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02. Wednesday — Rat Saw God
Our March CoSign burst their sound wide open with their fifth studio album, Rat Saw God, creating a through-line between country, shoegaze, and indie rock. Not content with adhering to what people may expect, each of these styles are often combined into a single track, like on the behemoth “Bull Believer.” Call it bubble-grunge, country-gaze, or whatever else you want, Wednesday’s Rat Saw God defies any one classification.
Vocalist Karly Hartzman brings the listener along for a journey through her adolescence in North Carolina, sharing vivid stories of being an outcast. Her ear for melody stands out on highlights such as “Formula One” and “Chosen to Deserve,” which lean heavier on the band’s country influences with a noticeable focus on the pedal steel. The lyrics are sticky and memorable, leaving an impact on the listener long after the record wraps up. “Sippin’ piss colored bright yellow Fanta/ Heard someone died in the Planet Fitness parking lot,” Hartzman sings on “Bath Country,” showcasing the duality of her lyrics as she delivers gut punches juxtaposed with wryer lines.
Working as more than a sum of its parts, the effort’s seemingly disparate elements come together to form a cohesive journey. Feeling like the natural culmination of their work up to this point, Wednesday delivers a masterpiece that reveals itself more with each listen, offering a bridge into their own little world. — A. Sharp-Moses
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01. Yves Tumor — Praise a Lord Who Chews but Which Does Not Consume
Yves Tumor is an enigma. Their work doesn’t call to mind any specific era of the past, nor does it sound much like any of their contemporaries, nor does it feel right to call it “the music of the future.” Rather, it’s as if the artist traveled from a different dimension, bringing along cultural artifacts like Praise a Lord Who Chews but Which Does Not Consume to save music as we know it.
On the surface, tracks like opener “God Is a Circle,” the ethereal “Heaven Surrounds Us Like a Hood,” or the dance-punk rager “In Spite of War” strike a paradoxical balance between chaotic and meticulously put-together, between existential and viscerally fun, between chewing and not consuming. While perhaps overwhelming at first, once the grooves take over, there’s no escaping its intoxicating sonic world. The swirling production and sticky hooks all fall perfectly into place, offering answers to the universe the songs themselves constructed.
That’s the multiversal wonder presented on this record; it feels utterly of itself, yet created with such a unique understanding of what we here on Earth call music that it remains a familiar alien. Praise a Lord presents Yves Tumor not as the dance-rock-interdimensional popstar we deserve, but as the dance-rock-interdimensional popstar we desperately need. — J. Krueger
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