Best Albums of 2018
BEST ALBUMS 2018
20. Noname: Room 25
19. Jeremih & Ty Dolla $ign: Mih-Ty
18. Tierra Whack: Whack World
17. Parks Burton: Pare
16. Oneohtrix Point Never: Age Of
15. Angelique Kidjo: Remain in Light
14. Shannon Shaw: Shannon in Nashville
13. Curren$y & Freddie Gibbs: Fetti
12. Ariana Grande: Sweetener
11. Vince Staples: FM!
10. DJ Koze: Knock Knock
9. Mariah Carey: Caution
8. Courtney Barnett: Tell Me How You Really Feel
7. The Carters: Everything is Love
6. Snail Mail: Lush
5. Shannon & the Clams: Onion
4. Teyana Taylor: K.T.S.E.
3. Kacey Musgraves: Golden Hour
2. Blood Orange: Negro Swan
1. Dirty Projectors: Lamp Lit Prose
(Spotify playlist)
(Capsule reviews of Top 10 below)
10. DJ Koze: Knock Knock. The music writing trope of “a sounds like b + c” is as lazy as it is played, but sometimes you hear a record and those type of comparisons spring to mind, like when I first heard Saint Pepsi’s Hit Vibes and instantly thought of J Dilla making a disco record. That was also my response to Knock Knock, which sounds like the Avalanches making a more patient update of Since I Left You for 2018 ears. The record is long and lush, and draws from roughly nine billion different aesthetics, but its particular mélange still manages to sound fresh. As with SILY, the album is best experienced as a complete piece of music (though several tracks, such as “Lord Knows” and “Scratch That” would sound great in a mix or DJ set). Knock Knock takes the listener through ambling pathways that wrap around and revisit each other, like an evening stroll through the spacious Joshua Tree National Park depicted on its cover. It’s nearly a two-hour journey, but it’s well worth the price of admission.
9. Mariah Carey: Caution. Mariah got a dirty mouth and I’m here for it. As mother, a twice-divorcée, a woman nearing 50, her work and her image are all her own; if she wants to include the word “fuck” in a bunch of songs on her new album (“GTFO,” “With You,” “The Distance”), then who the fuck are we to tell her no? It’s a refreshing twist from someone whose public persona is often so curated, but I’m burying the lede. The real story here is that Caution is a batch of excellent R&B songs from one of the genre’s all-time greats. It’s not overwrought – by contrast, the album’s sultry blue cover art is indicative of the moods within. The Ty Dolla $ign-featuring “The Distance” is laid extremely deep in the cut, assisted by some subtle production from Poo Bear, Lido and—holy shit, Skrillex? Yup, and like Mariah herself, everyone involved uses an even hand and measured patience to let each song breathe.
A personal highlight for me is “A No No,” which flips the Lil Kim/Lil Cease classic “Crush On You” on its head. Here, where Biggie intones “he’s a slut, he’s a hoe, he’s a freak/got a different girl every day of the week,” there is no irony intended. She gauges her suitors’ intent and responds simply: “that’s a no-no.” In fact, the word “no” accounts for easily half the song’s lyrics, but it’s still a blast on subsequent listens. But don’t get it twisted – highlights abound herein, from aforementioned singles “GTFO” and “The Distance” to the thoughtful, expansive, Dev Hynes-helmed “Giving Me Life,” which begins as a downtempo club hit and morphs into a surrealist dream. Mariah Carey is one of the artists who’s been in my life the longest – I’m so happy she’s still killing it.
8. Courtney Barnett: Tell Me How You Really Feel. Courtney Barnett is what I was raised to believe an indie rock star should be: an unassuming, smart slacker with regular clothes and the ability to unleash earthbound poetry and atmosphere-puncturing solos with equal aplomb. That effortless cool permeates every facet of her work, from her casual half-singing style to her loose but proficient playing, a mighty guitar god in the body of a humble 31-year-old. (That she recorded a collaborative record with renowned cool guy Kurt Vile should surprise no-one.) But what’s really striking about Barnett’s work is her wryly observant lyrics; whether she’s describing the banalities of urban life (“City Looks Pretty”) or eviscerating toxic masculinity (“Nameless, Faceless”), her keen eye and incisive wit pervade every line. Tell Me is the sound of a strong artist getting stronger.
7. The Carters: Everything is Love. I often say that as I get older, my favorite elements of songwriting are editing and restraint. That’s why I tend to hate double albums and love EPs. I just believe that most double albums would be better if distilled down to one really strong record. EPs, on the other hand, leave the listener wanting more. Such is the case with Everything is Love, which reads like a Beyonce trap record with a number of guest verses from Jay. Regardless of speculation on who did the lion’s share of the writing on the record, both are in top form. Bey’s signature vocal virtuosity is on display as ever, but the real delight is in her capable delivery as a rapper. She glides effortlessly through triplets like “Poppin, I’m poppin, my bitches are poppin, we go to the dealer and cop it all.” Big Sean could never. Meanwhile, Jay turns in a few of my favorite bars of the year (and also a very slick Drake diss) on “Boss:”
“You not a boss, you got a boss. N*ggas gettin’ jerked, that shit hurts, I take it personaly. N*ggas’d rather work for the man than to work for me. Just so they can pretend they on my level, that shit is irkin’ to me. Pride always goeth before the fall, almost certainly. It’s disturbing what I gross. Survey says: you not even close. Everybody’s bosses till the time to pay for the office, till them invoices separate the men from the boys. Over here we measure success by how many people successful next to you. Here, we say you broke if everybody is broke except for you. BAWSE.”
I don’t know if they intend to release more records as The Carters, but Everything is Love is a fun, successful experiment.
6. Snail Mail: Lush. There’s no reason for a debut LP to be this good. The record, from solo project-turnt-band of 19-year-old Lindsay Jordan is focused, clever, and sophisticated. Every component of these songs appears exactly as it should. Jordan’s songwriting is clean and incisive (“I hope whoever it is holds their breath around you/’cause I know I did,” she sings on album standout “Heat Wave”). The arrangements are smartly simple; seldom do they deviate from the four-person rock lineup, so the embellishments that are included (the French horn on “Deep Sea,” the layered keys on “Speaking Terms”) really leap out. The playing throughout is lovely, with Jordan’s beautiful guitar technique front and center (the finger-picking on “Let’s Find an Out” is a particular delight). Everything in its right place – only where Radiohead’s inward gaze can be mopey and self-indulgent, the core strength of Lush is its efficiency. There’s no filler here – just the exact amount of support that each piece requires. The drumming feels especially strong in this regard – there’s an economic directness in Ray Brown’s playing that prioritizes the backbeat over everything, including his ego. The fills that he does include are modest and workmanlike.
It’s right that the record would be released by Matador, because these songs are drenched in the influences of the 90s slacker rock of Yo La Tengo, Sonic Youth, Sleater-Kinney and Sebadoh. And as with each of those bands, Snail Mail’s songs are buoyed by excellent lyrics. Jordan doesn’t just sound wise beyond her years, she actually seems to have lived more in her 19 years than many folks twice her age. There’s a subtext of sobriety in some of the songs (“It just feels like the same party every weekend, doesn’t it?” on “Pristine,” or “I’m so tired of moving on/spending every weekend so far gone” on “Heat Wave”). Perhaps the self-reflection that’s required in recovery has helped to distill her worldview.
And look, I don’t mean to be patronizing here – this album would be a major achievement from any person of any age. But to hear an artistic vision this crystal clear and laser-focused from a 19-year-old is something truly special. I can’t wait to hear what she does next.
5. Shannon & the Clams: Onion. Upon first listen, Onion struck me as the best record the Clams have released to date. Now, admittedly, I’m a sucker for keyboards, and the inclusion of organist Will Sprott is pure Patrick-bait. But beyond my own tastes, the organ both fills out and anchors the Clams’ garage doo-wop sound. There’s a welcome succinctness to Onion: the songwriting is tight, the guitar playing is melodic and utilitarian, and the vocal performances from both Cody and Shannon are more technically refined than in any of their previous outings. One wonders if Shannon’s work on her own solo album (the very good, Dan Auerbach-produced Shannon in Nashville, which also came out this year) pushed her to improve her technique. And don’t get it fucked up – this is still a Clams record. It’s still shaggy and loud and rambunctious – but they’ve worked hard to reign in their wildest tendencies. Some might say that it’s layered, just like-- *an oversized cane hooks around my throat and drags me offstage* ….Well…..let’s just say it’s good.
4. Teyana Taylor: KTSE. Of all the seven-song mini-albums Kanye produced in Wyoming this year, KTSE is both the best and the least talked-about. She arrives seemingly out of the blue, a fully-formed artist who knows her strengths exactly. She has bars when she feels like spitting them, a beautiful husky alto when she feels like crooning, and a profound connection to multiple styles of club music that’s borne of her history as a dancer. It’s become a bit trendy to nod to vogue & ballroom culture in the last few years, but while Drake’s Big Freedia feature on “Nice for What” feels a little forced, Taylor can walk it like she talks it. A dancer by trade, her comfort in the ballroom is palpable.
Ye keeps it simple, remaining comfortably in his wheelhouse and flipping excellent soul samples such as Billy Stewart’s “I Do Love You” (which he repurposes into a nostalgic 4/4 slapper on “Hold On”) and The Stylistics’ “Because I Love You, Girl” (which he expands into a melancholy mediation on the horn section of the original). It’s a welcome return to form.
3. Kacey Musgraves: Golden Hour. In her SNL performance earlier this year, Kacey Musgraves appeared as a flat-ironed, longhair disco queen. As she slayed Golden Hour’s catchy lead single “High Horse,” I was reminded of Dolly Parton. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Dolly’s mid-70s and early-80s catalogue this past year, having purchased vinyl copies of All I Can Do, New Harvest…First Gathering, and Dolly, Dolly, Dolly. Parton is one of those artists whose discographies are so gigantic as to seem practically impenetrable, so I’ve been trying to hear as much as I can. Dolly, Dolly, Dolly is an especially interesting entry: released in 1980, it was her 23rd album, and it represents a pretty clear swing for crossover success. A handful of the tracks are straight-up disco, and these are what Musgraves called to mind. I was thrilled – Dolly’s disco experiments were widely panned, but I think there’s a lot of good there, maybe Golden Hour would be an attempt to vindicate Parton’s vision?
Unfortunately or not, I was incorrect. In total, Golden Hour bears more resemblance to Dolly’s friend & frequent collaborator Emmylou Harris (Kacey’s hair should’ve tipped me off, SMH). It’s a beautiful, understated, and thoughtful set of songs that could fit as well on a folk radio station as a country one. Like Harris, Musgraves has an innate sense of how to let a great song be great, hanging back in both arrangement and vocal performance. She’s emotive when she needs to be (“Rainbow”), and contemplative as needed (“Golden Hour”), always letting her writing breathe. Also, she has the confidence to bury the lead single so deep on Side B that you almost forget it’s there (and are thrilled when it is). As a person who prefers the full album experience to that of a shuffled playlist, this is one of my very favorite tricks.
Quite simply: great songs + great arrangements = a surprising list-topper for me.
2. Blood Orange: Negro Swan. For years, the roles of sexuality and gender in black identity have been foci of Dev Hynes’ work as Blood Orange. He spent time with drag queens and sex workers while writing his debut album Coastal Grooves, and has often cited transgender icon Octavia St. Laurent as one of his primary influences. But while these interests have colored his previous albums, on Negro Swan they’re the bedrock. In a press release preceding the album, Hynes described the album as “an exploration into my own and many types of black depression, an honest look at the corners of black existence, and the ongoing anxieties of queer/people of color. A reach back into childhood and modern traumas, and the things we do to get through it all. The underlying thread through each piece on the album is the idea of hope, and the lights we can try to turn on within ourselves with a hopefully positive outcome of helping others out of their darkness.”
These ideas are fundamental to the songwriting, and they’re reinforced by snippets of conversations with Janet Mock and Kai the Black Angel (who adorns the cover in a durag and angel wings) peppered throughout the album’s 49 minutes. On “Family,” Mock defines community as “the spaces where you don’t have to shrink yourself, where you don’t have to pretend or to perform, you can fully show up and be vulnerable in silence, completely empty, and that’s completely enough.” That search for community, the desire to be seen and loved and supported as your whole self informs each of these beautiful songs. Already a competent producer, Hynes continues to grow, selecting beautiful flourishes like the jangly, perfectly out-of-tune guitar on “Charcoal Baby” or the soft, echoing snare drum on “Dagenham Dream” to characterize the thematic content of each piece. Negro Swan is a powerful and complete work of art. It sounds like he’s finally found some answers to the questions he’s been asking.
1. Dirty Projectors: Lamp Lit Prose. On Lamp Lit Prose, David Longstreth appears to be having more fun making music than he has in years, probably because almost 100% of his band has turned over (kudos to longtime bassist Nat Baldwin, whose playing tethers him to his own beginnings). Beyond the new Projectors themselves, Longstreth spent the months during the writing of the album making new friends in the LA music scene, and bringing them around the studio to record various parts. Members of Haim contribute to album standout “That’s a Lifestyle,” Syd (of The Internet) anchors the refrain in “Right Now,” and Fleet Foxes’ Robin Pecknold and Vampire Weekend alumnus Rostam Batmanglij stack harmonies onto the swirling ballad “You’re The One.”
I see LLP as the second half of a diptych begun by the self-titled Dirty Projectors, released last year. While that record wallowed in the pain of a broken relationship with former Projector Amber Coffman, LLP reveals a healed and newly in love protagonist. Both records feature David Longstreth at his most vocally competent: he’s now able to truly execute the melismatic R&B runs he lovingly wrote and charmingly attempted in his earliest work, his diaphragm now supports his every leap and bound, and his croon is sweeter than ever before. But furthermore, both albums expand on ideas that have popped up throughout his illustrious and impressive body of work. Whether he’s reviving the Rise Above era blasts of noisy guitars on “Zombie Conqueror” or revisiting the orchestral ambitions of The Getty Address on the stunningly soulful “I Wanna Feel It All,” Longstreth sounds like a worker with a complete toolbox and a detailed blueprint. He’s been working at honing his craft for years.
I saw the Projectors in June, at a time when only “Break-Thru” and “That’s a Lifestyle” had leaked. I didn’t know what to expect, being among the seemingly small minority of fans who liked their previous record. But their set was staggering. Flanked by his group of mostly-new faces, Longstreth was bouncing all over the place, proudly showcasing each instrumentalist & vocalist (seemingly everyone had at least one moment in the spotlight), visibly excited about playing with this group of people. And that makes sense: LLP is Longstreth relishing the fundamental glee of musical collaboration. The joy is positively bubbling over in tracks like “Right Now,” “I Feel Energy,” and “I Found it in You.” To see him play these songs live is to wonder if he’s talking about the act of musicmaking itself when he sings: “Ask now, I’m in love for the first time ever.”
