Top Albums of 2018
Recently, I came to the
conclusion that the same impulse that drives a musician to endure hours upon
hours of practice to learn their instruments is what drives music lovers to dig
through endless new releases to find gems. It manifests as an itch you can’t
scratch but continually strive to, soaking in new sounds that lead you to
expand your musical palette in unexpected directions. For me personally, 2018
was a year defined by a loss of comforts and forced adjustment to new
circumstances. It felt like my first year as an actual adult trying to keep
myself together, and somewhere in all that confusion I found the time to listen
to 105 new albums. These ranged from things I knew I would love to artists I
had not previously heard of blowing my mind. So I present to you not only a
list of albums from this year that I love, but music that can help empower and
comfort you as you navigate challenges in your own life.
25.) I Want To Die In New Orleans by $uicideBoy$ (Hip-Hop)
In recent years,
Soundcloud has become one of the most prominent places for young rappers and
producers to put out work and have it noticed by a swarm of people. This
is especially true for New Orleans based Rap-Duo $uicideBoy$, who have been
slowly amassing a fanbase through various releases on the digital platform, all
building up to their first album. I Want To Die In New Orleans is not a particularly optimistic debut (as you may imagine given the
title) but it does serve as a sort of celebration of the duo’s signature style
and following. The album opens with an outsider's perspective on the group’s work,
questioning how two people from New Orleans could change music, before a grimy
synth cuts in to start the instrumental. Musically the album centers around
incredibly polished loops consisting of the aggressive percussion and bass you
would expect from trap music, with melodic keyboard riffs and passages mixed
in. It adds up to bangers that often feel warped, like the more conventional
musical elements of a song are drowned out by the duo’s take on production.
Lyrically, this album sees the $uicideBoy$ in a state of perpetual limbo,
finally starting to see the fruits of their labor yet still having to deal with
their own depression. The disconnect between where they are and how they feel
leads to the album as a whole having a sort of a “fuck it” mentality, wherein
bars about praying for death and recalling recent drug benders both carry equal
weight. Despite the lavishly dark lifestyle the rappers boast about, it is
clear that they both put tremendous care and craft into the art they create,
and in doing so highlight negative tendencies so many of us feel on a daily
basis.
24.) Kingdoms In Colour by Maribou State (Electronic)
When I first opened up a
random Spotify page to start this album, I was not expecting much. I took
interest because of the gorgeous album art but had never heard of the artist
before. Within a minute I was hooked and listened to the rest of the album
uninterrupted, taking comfort in the serene way the duo weave samples with live
instrumentation that makes the body move. This is an album with almost no
fluff, each song its own journey that it takes you off before leading you into
the next. It feels as though the album is a sonic playground, where songs take
small ideas and build them up as much as they can before breaking them down at
the end. Sections of strings, vocals, and various samples appear and disappear
seemingly on a whim, leaving you as a listener waiting for the next change. Yet
despite all these fluctuations, you never feel as though the album is chaotic
or losing track of itself. Even at its most obscure, Kingdoms In Colour knows
exactly what it wants to be at any given moment, and it is always moving
forward toward that end goal. Any of the scare vocals on the album lead toward
the same conclusion, often singing about loss or change while backed by the
colorful and shifting instrumentation. It feels like an album specifically
meant to battle fears of uncertainty and change, instead urging
listeners to follow the flow of the tide as opposed to fighting it. This album
led me to deeply reflect on myself in some of my most somber moments this year,
coming out on the other side with a better understanding of who I am and what I
want to do.
23.) Saturn by Nao
(R&B/Neo-Soul)
Saturn is an album about taking a leap of faith and growing. On first listen
one could come to the conclusion that the London singer-songwriter is simply
longing for love, but it goes so much further than that. To the tune of funky
basslines and jazzy chord changes, Nao is learning to trust, as part of her
musical and personal growth. There seems to be a trend of R&B artists
releasing projects that are more personal, with a focus on pointing the lens
inward instead of outward. Nao accomplishes this with ease, as her particularly
high singing voice carries with it a sense of confidence and sincerity. This
album is more stripped back from her 2016 release in terms of presentation, but
much more mature in how it frames themes like love and change. Songs like ‘Orbit’
are in essence sweeping statements about holding on to people you care for
despite personal fears about getting hurt, with just strings and a steady beat
for 90% of the song. Nao and the production revolve around each in a way
reminiscence of the emotions you would expect from seeing a singer perform with
a band live. It all feeds back into Nao being more comfortable with herself as
an artist and making music that is more honest because of it. This album will
make you dance and make you want to cry in the same song, something that I
think serves as the best example of an artist letting go and trusting that her
music has the ability to speak for itself.
22.) Blues People
by Logan Richardson (Contemporary Jazz/Rock)
Alto saxophonist Logan Richardson is no stranger to
making dense music. Throughout his career exploring Jazz he has developed a
style that revolves around creating these bombastic moments with his bandmates,
allowing sound to smartly explode in every direction without diluting the song
as a whole. With Blues People however, Richardson incorporates signature
80’s rock elements into his own style to create what I can only describe as jazzy
power ballads. Some of the most powerful songs on the record come complete with
shredding electric guitar solos, explosive synth choruses, and energy akin to a
major 80’s Headliner at a sold-out stadium show. Even with all these larger-than-life
moments in the music, the album is rooted in Richardson’s own upbringing, both
in relation to how he perceives music and how he perceives himself. Being a
Black 80’s child from the South, every external genre you hear expressed in
this album is one held close to Richardson. Rock, Bluegrass, and bits of Folk
are all found throughout this project, never feeling out of place and never
overstaying their welcome. Through genius composition and planning, you feel as
though these genres were always meant to intersect with one another, and maybe
that is what music feels like inside the artist’s head. By putting in more and
more of his direct inspirations and arguably reaching more ears as a result,
Richardson cements himself as a unique figure in the world of music, someone
who recognizes the struggles they go through because of their race while
understanding how art they ingested allowed them to survive in the world. The
music is uplifting; even on more somber songs like ‘Black Brown & Yellow’ you
feel a sense of community emanating from the track, as if all the elements that
went into making the diverse sound palette similarly connects you to any
listener lucky enough to hear Richardson’s musical story.
21.) Gangin’ by SOB x RBE
(Hip-Hop)
While the days of East
Coast vs West Coast are more or less gone in rap, I still believe there is a
special quality to each coast that the other will never possess. For the West
Coast, I think it is that artists understand that making serious music is a state
of mind, and any playfulness or absurdity in a song’s lyrical content cannot
undermine that vibe. When the four-person rap group SOB x RBE gained mainstream
popularity after a feature on the Black Panther soundtrack, I feel like a lot
of people could easily write them off as being young and ignorant. However,
through their abrasive lyrical style you see reflections of the harsh realities
that have raised the young men. On their debut album Gangin’ the group
trades bars back and forth on the importance of loyalty in their lifestyles and
how far they have come due to the music they have made. This is all set to
groovy bass-heavy beats the remind me of the sounds of my high school, where
rallies and school events were backed by whatever local rap song was popular at
the time. This album feels like a generous blend of old traditions and new
ideas, with many of the samples used in this album harking back to the budding
origins of Hip-Hop. In comparisons of the music throwbacks that power the
instrumentals, each member of the group gets time to shine in their own way.
The way the songs in the album are arranged allows for every member to be on
every song, leading to the feeling that the project is composed of the best of
each of its component artists. Some songs are more melody driven while others
serve as mob cuts, with every rapper just going for it. They have incredible
synergy and bounce off each other with no effort, painting images of their
troubled hometowns with a sort of sacredness and reverence. The group speaks on
things like the effects of mass incarnation on their families and the feeling
of constant paranoia that surrounds their lifestyle. It is not all pretty, but
it is all real, which is the only thing all members of the group strive to keep
it. Collaboration seems to be a growing trend in Hip-Hop today, and SOB x RBE
looks to be dominating the charts alongside personal genre favorites
Brockhampton and Injury Reserve, putting their own spin on the classic rags to
riches story.
20.) 7 by Beach
House (Dream Pop)
Victoria Legrand, one
half of the duo that is Beach House, has gone on record describing her bandmate
Alex Scally as a musical soulmate. With seven albums under their belt since
2006, most of which have been subject to critical acclaim, it is not hard to
see why. 7 is a surreal experience, with bits and pieces of the duo’s
well honed ethereal sound mixed in with a touch of minimalism. Songs are
constructed of simple pieces, wavy chords give songs a grand sense of space for
the reverb-heavy vocals to fill, and are crucial for creating the aura of
mystery that surrounds this album. Thematically the album plays with ideas of
self-love in the darker moments of life, and learning to push past the inherent
struggles that come your way in order to reach the other side. For the duo, the
other side is all their music, and this album specifically, art that has come
from years of fine-tuning and practice. It seems strange that a group this far
into their musical career could create an album that reshapes their sound, but
Beach House’s specialty (in my eyes) has always been finding new ways to make
their music stand out. On songs like ‘Dive’ that transition from a
spacey ballad to a more traditional rock form, this dynamic reinvention is in
full force, asserting that no matter what the year is and what the
circumstances are, Beach House will do their best to deliver. Apparently on
this album, Beach House was left to their own devices more than normal, with a
lack of a more seasoned producer trying to keep things grounded. I think it
shows in the album’s most wild moments, wherein the duo are letting themselves
fully explore the range of where a song takes them, creating some of the most
splendid and cathartic tracks of the year.
I often wonder how Jazz
prodigy Esperanza Spalding finds time to sleep, having dropped back to back to
back phenomenal pieces of work that blend genres and experiment with what an
album should be in this modern era of music. While her popular peers may be
shifting their focus to more single-based content for the sake of sales or
streams, Spalding has maintained the idea that her albums are all wholistic
works of music. On her latest project, she shifts her focus to making the human
body into its own musical, with each song on the album representing a body part
or some kind of physical interaction. Over the course of 12 tracks we get to
see how she views not only her own body, but the importance of a body to a
person. Where this album shines however, is how these views are expressed.
Giving these views life is the tight backing band, doing everything from groovy
Neo-Soul inspired cuts to sounding as grand as a classical Disney opening song.
Incredible pieces like ‘Touch in Mine’ take the simple premise of touch and give it a
musical identity, repeating a simple chorus for most of the tune and allowing
the instrumental to evolve around it. This makes the chorus, and in turn the
concept of a touch, feel almost endless, as you understand how many physical
connections you are able to make in life due to your sense of touch. 12 Little Spells romanticizes the body in a way that should be revered, giving a sense
of infinite wonder to mundane interactions that we take for granted every day.
On the one hand, I’m All Ears sounds very much like an album made by young
people, the duo of young British girls behind it generally prioritizing things
that sound cool over musical convention. On the other hand, it is a powerful
record that is filled with the growing pains of said young artists. Backed by
some of the most impressive synth pop production I have heard, it walks the
line between dancey pop music and heavy industrial bangers that sound far more
grand than they have any right to. Lyrically, we have painful tales of lost love
and distrust, very human tales contrasted by the often otherworldly musical
style. More so than any album on this list, I think the duo toys with the
listeners’ expectations beautifully. Heartbreak is seldom as aesthetically
pleasing as pop songs tend to depict it, and giving it a more rough texture
helps sell the emotion as genuine. You get the sense that this is what the
world sounds and feels like to these artists, a dense and confusing place to
navigate with moments of clarity thrown in as they grow as people. Maturity is
a word naturally attributed to musicians as they advance their career, but
actually hearing a record and thinking that it is mature is a pretty rare
experience for me. I listened to this whole album on a whim, and was drawn in
by how this duo chose to tell their story. They approached it not with bells
and whistles but rather with a hammer and nails, never letting me forget that
just like there is no one right way to feel an emotion, there is no one right
way to express that emotion via song.
Frances Quinlan, the lead singer and
songwriter for the band Hop Along, has a knack for writing lyrics that cement
themselves inside your mind for days at a time. On the opening track of their
latest album she repeats the line, “Don’t worry, we
will both find out, just not together,” bringing to mind images of failed
relationships and the necessity to move on in life. It was this impeccable
songwriting that first got me invested when a friend introduced me to this
band. Frances has an alluring quality to her voice; it jumps and shifts on any
given track with a range wholly unique to her, and when her writing is given
room to breathe on top of it you get songs that hit the ear like poetry. This
is to say nothing of the instrumentals behind the written work, a fully fleshed
out four-piece Rock band that bends and sways as the songs demand, working in
tandem to bring out the fullest potential of the lyrical content. Hop Along is
a band that will fill you with energy but also guarantee you are thinking about
a song’s meaning and message long after the runtime ends. It is a simple
formula that they use to construct all their albums, but it works because the
group keeps coming up with new ways to shout whatever is on their mind. There
is an underlying drive behind even their most stripped down and acoustic songs,
like the group is constantly on the verge of a revelatory breakthrough of some
kind. Frances’ lyrics appeal to the common man, with stories of family road
trips evolving into over-the-top grooves without losing their sense of
sincerity. The band knows what it loves to do and does it well, and I hope to
enjoy this brand of storytelling for years to come.
Tash Sultana is a hard
person to categorize, which seems very intentional. Her music is composed of
loops, using a pedal to sample herself in order to build a song. What makes
this is so interesting is that Tash has grand ambitions when it comes to the
layers that she adds to her songs, and she plays enough different instruments
to keep them varied and fresh. All of the bass, drum, trumpet, guitar,
keyboard, and vocal work you hear on this album is one person exercising their
musical freedom to the absolute fullest. It can be hard to believe that this is
all one person, such as with songs like ‘Cigarettes’ which
feature an outro that feels like a seasoned band’s jam session, but that all
leads into the mystique that is Tash Sultana. From interviews I have read about
her you get the sense that Tash has found a personal nirvana in her music, and
uses it as means to understand the world and herself. When you add her
outstanding ability into this you get songs like ‘Pink Moon’, which blur the
line between a heart wrenching introspective ballad and explosive rock anthem.
This album has an incredible amount of faces, but you are always aware that it
is he same person behind all the madness. At its core, Flow State is
constantly challenging itself and changing into whatever Tash needs to release
her energy over the course of a song. The 23-year-old would probably have you
believe that there is not a care on her mind when she gets to make music, but
her own struggles come through in the music itself. This isn’t a bad thing
however, as it allows for an album that shifts before your ears such that by the
time of its final wailing guitar solo you feel like you have a better
understanding of this hippie musician and her incredible talents.
Dev
Hynes aka Blood Orange has never let himself be confined when it comes
to the sounds of his albums. His projects sprawl everything from Indie Rock to
Funk, all the while keeping a solid grasp of their themes. Negro Swan sees
a glorious return to form for the artist, being the musical embodiment of
celebrating our differences. Composed of otherworldly synths and obscure chord
changes paired with extremely tight drum machine beats, Hynes is able to
maintain the illusion of this being all composed in his bedroom while venturing
into much larger sounds. It’s fitting, seeing that the album is about doing the
most in any given capacity. To him, that means telling the story of what it
means to be different through his music, touching on what it means to have to
wait for your time and seizing beautiful moments as they come. It is
bittersweet, as throughout the album we hear narration from what sounds like an
interview with Janet Mock (a transgender activist) about what it means to be
yourself in our divisive social climate. I am not sure if a bulk of the album
was created around her narration or if the interview audio just fit the already
existing themes of the, but the result is an album that doesn’t let you forget
certain people’s struggles. This small addition, bits and pieces of dialogue
smartly inserted into certain tracks, helps elevate the album’s more joyous
moments, like the breakdown at the end of ‘Charcoal Baby’ or the
gorgeous wailing Gospel track ‘Holy Will’. Hynes has always been a master of
using other people’s vocals to bring out the most potential in his own work,
and through that same production ideology he makes the struggle of being
different and celebration of finding your place all the more pronounced.
Aesthetically, there are
few things that appeal to me like good Jazz Rap beats—something about the
fusion of old and new just hits me on a spiritual level. Upon hearing Xover for
the first time, I was treated to an hour of tight rhythms, mellow chords, dope
solos, and some of most consistent vocal features of the year. The duo that makes
up Blue Lab Beats is composed of two young British POC who give you a glimpse
into the UK late night Jazz scene, jamming on loops and providing the musical
background for the album’s plethora of guest features. Xover is a project that
is more than the sum of its parts, with each simple piece adding up to a
dynamic range of tracks and ideas. It reminds me of 2015’s Surf by Donnie
Trumpet & The Social Experiment, which focused on a core band collaborating
with as many of their friends as they could fit on a record without
compromising its overall quality. It is an album with an impeccably strong
identity, serving as the world’s introduction to Blue Lab Beats while also
letting you hear for yourself how seasoned the musicians already sound. Songs
like ‘Pineapple’ demonstrate such an intricate knowledge of how to make solid grooves
and experiment with less traditional sounds on said groves. There is a flow as
each song cycles through its own patterns and the loops become more and less
complex at the artists’ whim. The best way I can describe this album is that it
feels as though Blue Lab Beats were bobbing their head along to every track
they made, only being concerned with making sound as good as they possibly
could for their own sake, and no one else’s.
Natalie Prass is an
eclectic artist, creating pop music that feels anything from funky to solemn
depending on the track. Upon hearing an album of hers for the first time it is
clear just how much she loves different genres of music, and how good she is at
weaving those genres together on her albums. On her latest project, Prass
spends an album picking apart a romantic relationship in both temporal
directions, from the butterflies that fill your stomach upon a budding romance
to the agonizing feeling of wanting to save a failing relationship. Backing
this are jazzy chord changes, plump bass, and incredibly tight drums to help
you dance while you contemplate Prass’ glasslike vocals. Much like Let’s Eat
Grandma’s album, the way Prass uses different genres for different emotional
responses in her songs is genius, showing you exactly how she feels about every
stage in a relationship she’s been through. She demonstrates an honest mature
look at what it means to try and connect with a person romantically and how
genuinely frustrating that can be when things don’t work out, all without ever
becoming too depressing. Through music Prass tells stories about herself and
also the person she wants to be, and hearing someone proclaim that in such an
eloquent way on a record keeps me coming back to it time and time again.
This may be the most fun
album on this list, as it captures the catchiness of a good pop hook plus the
colorful vibes that are often associated with softer Indie-Rock bands. It sets
itself apart with its production, which combines sampling with live instrumentation
and vocal harmonies. It is lush, feeling like it surrounds and smothers you
before the lead singers sweet-tinged voice makes its way to your ears. I found
this to be the perfect music for summer road trips, as each track can make you
feel like you are floating along in your day. Thematically the songs tackle
chasing after love but doing so with the most positive vibes imaginable. You
get the sense that the singer has chosen to live his life in the most loving
way possible, or at the very least gives off that aura in performance. This is
best exemplified by the track ‘Late Bloomer,’ where even his most somber
delivery of the chorus “I’m just a late bloomer” carry a sense of optimism that
seems to come for general life experience. That may be my favorite thing about
this album conceptually, even though it is fun to listen to it never feels
trivial or silly. It is clear just how much talent has gone into making this
album sound the way it does, and all of the good feelings generated from it
come from a place of complete seriousness. Mindset is an album that wants to
make you feel good and does so with grace, creating catchy earworms and putting
you in a place where you can’t help but smile.
Tom Misch was one of the
best recommendations I received this year—after spending less than 10 minutes
with his previous album I was hooked n his style. Misch, at his heart, is a
producer who thrives in a realm of making Jazz-Hop beats and fleshing them out
with his own musical prowess. On his debut studio album, however, he decided to
aim higher for a more dance -centered feel, drawing inspiration from Disco and
Funk to amazing results. Songs all have an incredible groove and cadence to
them, with energy dripping off of all of the musicians who added their
abilities to this album. When Misch throws his vocals into the mix he comes off
as wise yet reserved, feeling most at home in his warm mellow style instead of
belting on any particular song. These two elements come together to make a
project that feels ambitious without coming off as arrogant or excessive. The
lyrics that give life to this album are poetic and relatable, the evident
themes being the joy of making art for art’s sake and the heartbreak of a
failed relationship. If I had to guess I would say that this album may have
come at the cost of something or someone in Misch’s romantic life. It exudes a
melancholy that you can’t help but hear on songs like ‘Movie’ or the
incredibly sincere yet brief cover of ‘Isn’t She Lovely,’ always serving to enhance the songs in question
and never dragging the mood down. For Tom Misch, making music appears to be a
sort of spiritual love to him, and this album stands as a sort of altar to the
best kind of music he can make. Geography evokes heartache, exploring
new genres, and being for thankful to music for the chance to get to make art
that is personal and loving every step of the process.
I have been waiting for
the Columbian songstress Kali Uchis to put out a major project since 2015.
After hearing her bubbly vocals lent to artists like Tyler, the Creator, it
sparked my interest in her laid-back style and killer aesthetic. With Isolation, I got so
much more than I was expecting, an album that outlines Kali Uchis’ unbending
work ethic and giving new life to her come-up story. The production on this
album defies labels, starting out with a saccharine Bossa Nova Arrangement by
Thundercat on ‘Body Language’ before diving into the bass heavy Hip-Hop tinged ‘Miami,’
a theme of sonic changes that persists for the rest of the album. The entire
time Kali presents herself musically as she does in every media appearance she
has ever had, which is to say calm, collected, and focused. As she sings early
in the album: “Why would I be Kim, I could be Kanye,” signifying that more than
anything else, this woman is about her business. What this does is create an
interesting dynamic between the playfulness of some of her tracks and the
underlying weight that they carry because of what this album means to the
artist. This is found in its most powerful form on the song ‘Your Teeth In My
Neck’, which highlights the struggle of trying to fend for yourself in the
world and in relation to other people. It is a simple song composed of a funky
bassline, crisp drum beat, and sparse chord changes, but Kali cements all of
these elements together to create one of the best songs of 2018. This same
effect is found through out the whole album, Kali’s vocal and lyrical prowess
bringing a strong consistency to the R&B and Pop bangers. It is hard to
venture outside genres gracefully, but Isolation has a story
to tell that could not be properly expressed with just one genre or even one
language, as Spanish is found in abundance on this record. It becomes whatever
it needs to be to inform listeners just how hard this artist has worked to get
where she is, without compromising her artistic integrity or intensely
nonchalant image. Kali Uchis makes this all look and sound easy, and that
confidence combined with her actual music has made her 2018 album an instant
classic.
There were few artists
who had as big a 2018 as Janelle Monae, whose presence has been severely
lacking in pop music for the last couple of years. For those unaware, Monae has
spent the last decade creating immersive concept albums about an android trying
to fit in in an oppressive society. It is a not so subtle metaphor for her own
experience as a Black queer woman in America, but the creative ways she has
given life to her music has made her an icon, and rightfully so. On Dirty
Computer, she takes a more intricate approach to her music, focusing on
herself as opposed to a more abstracted character. Coming out of the gates
swinging on the title track, which features the legendary vocals of Brian
Wilson, the album starts on a completely different tone than her previous work.
This project serves as a sort of personal utopia for Monae and people like her
who face oppression due to their inherent identities. She celebrates every
single part of herself while also acknowledging how twisted it is that she must
face persecution for it. The dance-like tracks that compose the majority of the
album help sell the world she is trying to create, with bouncy synths and
radical basslines making the earlier side of the album feel like one long
party. On the later half of the record, we get to my personal favorite part of
the musical narrative, in which she drops the artifice of her confident persona
to address how terrified she is to exist as herself. It is a bold juxtaposition
not only to the beginning of this album, but to all of her music in general.
Monae has historically not shown much weakness in her music, which is not to
say she has never been vulnerable, but rather her vulnerability always had an
air of optimism to it. On the heartbreaking ballad ‘So Afraid,’ she drops the
curtain to give her listeners a look at her fear of failure. Dirty Computer is
an empowering collection of pop pieces, but it is also one person airing their
joys and grievances of what it means to be themselves in 2018. Through her
powerhouse vocals, insightful raps and commanding production, Janelle Monae has
retained her icon status and put her glorious self out back into the world for
all to see.
It’s hard to believe that
it’s been three years since I got into this band, the once Odd Future side
project turned into a fully functional Neo-soul/R&B outfit that has proved
itself time and time again. After a short hiatus in which members of the band
released solo projects (that were bomb), Hive Mind sees a return to form
of the highest caliber. More experimental than the band’s previous work, this
album takes a spacey approach to smooth R&B, complete with far out reverbed
vocals, grooves that cut deep into your soul, and an emphasis on sexy lyrics.
It becomes hard to tell where all of the band members’ talents start and end,
as each has grown a considerable amount since 2015’s Ego Death, and the
endless blending of their own unique styles has culminated into one incredible
listening experience. The album takes on a loose form, constantly morphing to
meet a song’s needs but carrying with it the band’s signature sense of cool on
every track. I can’t listen to this album without bobbing my head; even as Syd
and Steve Lacy sing about love and longing, it is addictive and funky. The band
has matured greatly and found that the answer to improving as a group is to
improve individually before coming back together, turning their energies inward
until the whole is stronger for it. Four albums’ worth of growth is
tangible, and from here on out I can only assume this trend will continue as
they keep entrancing us with their chill melodies and vibes. Hive Mind
is an album that you are meant to lose yourself in, much like each member of
the Internet blends into the next, and in doing so you get a glimpse of the
band’s lifestyle, struggles, and triumphs.
Chicago is currently home
to one of my favorite music scenes. So many artists I love are either based in
that city or draw musical inspiration from the area. The O’My’s, a Chicago
based Soul duo, are a prime example of this, fusing classic Chicago R&B
sounds with their own blend of soul to create music that feels uniquely cathartic.
Of all the albums on this list, Tomorrow is the purest in its message,
which is that good things lie ahead in your future if you work for them. This
album aims to make sense of messy situations by tackling them with simple
solutions. While the songs lyrically range from missing old lovers to having
the courage to be patient and wait for one’s blessings, they are all addressed
in the simplest of ways, feeling wholesome and never failing to put me in a
good mood upon listening. Beautiful piano chords, pitched up vocal samples,
smooth guitar work drawing back to Bill Withers, and expressive percussion make
up the frame work for this short but engaging project, radiating with charm.
The lead singer’s vocals sound like glass about to break, and make every tune
ring, from the gorgeous ‘Nina Fresa’ to the optimistic anthem ‘Idea’. There are few
features on this album, with the only named ones being Saba and Chance The
Rapper, but there is sense of collective knowledge and experience that extends
outside the duo found in every track. This album is a declaration of modern
Chicago Soul, incorporating sounds that have made the city one of the most
celebrated in certain musical circles today. As music progresses and changes, it
is imperative to understand that change comes from learning from eras of music
that have passed. This album is not a 60’s soul record, but it is clear that
The O’My’s grew up on that music and have transformed it into their own sound,
sharing the gift of soul with a new generation of listeners who may not be
privy to its allure.
One day, in the midst of
a hangout session with friends, a new album came up in conversation. One of the
friends in question was flustered and astounded after having listened to it and
urged us all to listen to the first song together. That album was Crumbling,
an abstract piece of work that builds low-key pop songs out of crazy electronic
riffs and disharmonic passages. It seemingly came out of nowhere, with no
fanfare or gravitas, but has been in my musical rotation ever since I heard the
explosive intro ‘Why?’ earlier this fall. The album features beautiful Korean
vocals that float over the hectic music they accompany. The whole thing is
consistently inconsistent, with half it sounding like the trippy melodies found
on The Beatles’ more adventurous releases, and the other half sounding like a
demonstration of how wonky a modular synth can be. It is as if it’s trying to
be music and not be music at the same time, ending up in this spectacular
experimental middle ground. In its most obscure moments it can be hard to call
music, as the bleeps and bloops seem more otherworldly than melodic, but it
makes the catchy hooks and wild chord progressions stand out so much more when
these moments share a song. It’s the album on this list that is the hardest to
write about, as I can’t think of a story that goes along with it; it is just a
wonderful experience start to finish. This album became the soundtrack to my
most meditative moments at the end of the year, as I found myself constantly
wanting to lose myself in its creative mess. Crumbling explores the
oddest places of an artist’s mind, something that was made for the sake of just
wanting to make it, and finding this gem was of my favorite musical moments of
the year.
Losing Mac Miller this
year sucked, and knowing that his last album was as good as it is does little
to soften the blow. The multi-talented rapper/songwriter/producer has had a lot
of ups and downs in both his musical and personal life over the past few years,
and Swimming is the culmination those experiences. From the soft Jazz
Lounge inspired opening ‘Come Back to Earth’ to the funky ‘What’s The Use?’ all
of Miller’s musical taste finds its way onto this somber album. The album has
no sense of finality to it, something historically found in the final releases
of rappers, but rather serves as a refresher of how far this artist has come in
his time in the spotlight. This is best illustrated on the song ‘2009,’ wherein
Miller brings his listeners up to speed with how his life has changed since he
blew up in the mainstream a decade ago. This string-laden piece carries a
bitter-sweetness to it that Miller has never really been able to capture before.
All the joys that came with success also brought with it depression and a drug
addiction that would eventually do him in. While I am sure he had no plans of
dying when this album was made, Swimming will now serve as a capsule of
just how talented a man he was, and how he was able to consistently push
through his demons to put out quality art into the world. In a perfect world, I
would be able to talk about how this album stands as a turning point in Miller’s
career, showing emotional growth and maturity that will carry him far into the
future, but unfortunately this project is the last stop on his journey. That
being said, Miller has given the world insight into what it means to build
yourself up and connect with people in a meaningful way despite having huge
crutches in your personal life. I hope that when we talk about him in future
and reflect on his work, we remember him for the wild kid turned music superstar
he was, and just how much honest work and pride he put into making that goal a
reality.
Noname is one of Chicago’s
finest, effortlessly writing some of the best verses in Hip-Hop while retaining
the low-key persona that allows her to stay out of social spotlights. Her
sophomore album has her turning more aggressive than in her previous work,
being more open about the experiences she has had since her last album made her
a household name among rap fans. This ranges from praising vegan food to
recounting awkward sexual experiences with less than stellar dudes. It is this
honestly that has always made Noname interesting, but she finds a way to be
more explicit and crasser without comprising her lyrical prowess. The
production on Room 25, again handled mostly by Chicago rapper/producer
Phoelix, takes Neo-Soul-like chord progressions and pairs them with off-kilter
percussion to create beats that keep listeners on their toes. It is an album
that is easy to listen to, but demands attention if you want to enjoy the full
extent of every song, as it thrives on small details. Noname’s personal
experience as a black woman is at the forefront of this album, and among her
views on violence in poor communities and foresays into improving her own
mental health is a desire to be loved and respected for who she is—as a woman,
as a Black person, and as the introvert she is when she isn’t making some of
the best rap music of the year. You get the sense that Noname is always deep in
thought, stuck between questioning oppressive systems and just trying to live a
life with no regrets. In a way this album highlights the plights of many young
POC who have an earnest desire to change the world but also need to take time
for themselves. It is the soundtrack to confrontation, but also of self-love,
which is a vibe that I want to see carry into 2019. Noname never ceases to come
through when it comes to music, and if Room 25 is any indication, she is
working hard while also living her own life to the fullest: the modern-day
Black American Dream.
It may be arbitrary, but
I have a proverbial soft spot for any modern music that I can share with my
parents. Considering that so much of my taste is rooted in the old Soul music I
was raised listening to, being able to give back to them always feels amazing.
With Childqueen, I was given that and then some, a buttery smooth singer
gliding over grooves that sound like they were inspired directly by the records
of my parents’ youth. It is not as straightforward as it appears though, as
often the lyrics and melodies morph in ways too new to be considered a
throwback to soul, before diving back into the bouncy synth and crisp drum
patterns that support this album. It is fantastic, both in the literal and
metaphoric sense, with tracks like ‘Delphine’ telling the stories of characters
unique to the world the
album creates. Kadhja’s stellar voice, which ranges from a low grumble
to whistle tones a la Minnie Riperton, draws you in and keeps you in. This
record is whimsical without every becoming silly, each song having an air of
sophistication about it even in its most wonky moments. I found this album due
to Kadhja’s feature on Anderson .Paak’s 2018 release Oxnard, and I never
expected it to blow me away as much as it did. It feels like a love letter to
music past while also taking Soul in new and exciting directions, all the while
invoking a sense of wonder and awe in anyone who listens to it.
Auckland rapper Tom Scott
has managed an incredible feat with his debut album. Over the course of 53
minutes he gives you his entire life story, including some of the worst traumas
he has endured and the greatest joys he has felt. He does this all within the
first song ‘Years Gone By,’ a riveting epic in which he depicts his life
through the years, highlighting key moments that happened throughout. Here you
learn that Tom didn’t have the easiest upbringing, as he would get into fights
in his youth and later find himself flunking out of school and engaging in
frequent drinking benders. This all came to a head later in life and he may not
have recovered if not for his music and finding love in his newborn son. It is
a raw story of a harsh reality given form by a live Jazz band. On the first
listen the juxtaposition was shocking, hearing Tom’s often squeaky voice over a
band that sounds like it is in the middle of a frantic jam session. His flow is
theatrical and expressive, serving as a tangible point of focus among the Jazz
instrumentation. It distinctly feels like two albums in one and
this musical chaos gives more thematic weight to the heavy topics that the
album covers. In addition to talking about his childhood, we learn of Tom’s
friends who got addicted to crack, and others who would go on to kill
themselves. It seems like Tom’s life was plagued by a giant losing streak until
he found a way to put his pent up energy toward music. The result is this
album, a therapeutic release of negative energy where he vents and grieves while also
looking forward in time without judgement. The most entrancing part of the
album, to me, is how Tom views his life in hindsight. Despite all the bad, it
is very clear he has nothing but love for the town of his youth (Avantdale),
his friends who may have been addicts but still a vital part of his life, and
his son. This album is exhausting, as any good Jazz album should be, and the
musical twists and turns you experience while listening hook you and refuse to
let you go. It wanders into abstract melodies and long lyrical monologues before
snapping back into fast triplet cadences and upbeat jams. Avantdale Bowling
Club was a random click for me, being listed on Mid-Air Thief’s Spotify page,
and I sincerely urge more people to indulge in this album. It is a piece of
work a whole man’s life in the making and he deserves for you to hear his
story.
The first time I listened
to this album I was at work, and one of its latter tracks almost triggered an
anxious episode. I was glued to my seat as I listened to the song and didn’t
feel comfortable breathing until the runtime had ended. CARE FOR ME is an
album formed out of grief, made in the wake of Chicago rapper Saba’s cousin
Walter getting murdered for a jacket in 2017. This sent Saba spiraling into a
hole of depression and survivor’s guilt, prompting him to make one of the best
pieces of music released in 2018. The album starts off solemn with the track ‘BUSY/SIRENS,’
a slow yet bouncy confession of Saba’s loneliness sparked by his introversion
and depression. It is an honest look into mental health that morphs into an
anthem of black pride by the halfway point. Most of the songs on the album
follow this format, with tracks taking on multiple personalities and themes to
the tune of wavy keyboard chords, aggressive bass, and Jazzy drums. The whole
album was produced by Saba and two fellow members of the rap collective Pivot
Gang (of which Saba’s cousin was also a part) and it allows for the whole album
to feel like it was painted with the same sonic color. You learn a lot about
Saba through this, he speaks on the negative ways he aired aggression when was
younger, toxic relationships he took comfort in, and his complex relationship
with the city of Chicago. On the one hand it is the place where he was raised
and he carries it on his back, on the other it swallows up innocent P.O.C on
the daily and leaves him feeling helpless. On the track “PROM/KING,” you get
the full extent of this duality when Saba talks about his relationship with
Walter. The two only really became close in their young adult years, which
makes Walters premature death all the more biting when it is addressed. This is
the track that trapped me in an anxious bubble, as hearing the heartwarming origin
story of a loving kinship knowing its tragic ending is a devastating first
listen. The whole album is full of some of the strongest storytelling I have
heard in music, but this track in particular nails the empty pit feeling you
get in your stomach when you remember loved ones you lost. CARE FOR ME sees
Saba past the worst of the horror that he has already encountered, but is
riddled with the memories of his lost family. This album is the result of Saba
and Walter’s connection, and what it means for that connection to no longer
exist. It reminds you that no one in your life will remain in it forever and
how emotionally destructive it can be when someone is taken too soon. It is
Saba’s way of taking care of himself, and by the album’s somber conclusion, I
felt the need to make sure that I was taken care of too. In 2018 there was no
album I listened to that struck me in the way this did, and if you’re willing
to open yourself up to feel less than okay, I believe you’ll find this project
to be a modern Hip-Hop
classic.
