60. Donnie Trumpet & the Social Experiment Surf (2015)
File Under: Hip Hop, Jazz
The one thing I’ve learned about Chance The Rapper over the past few years of his ascendent star power is that a little of Chance The Rapper goes a long way. All that goodie-two-shoes, edgeless, Kanye-cosigning evangilirap has an increasingly limited appeal. One pass through Colouring Book or The Big Day is enough to give you a throbbing toothache. Surf, an album by Chance’s band Donnie Trumpet & the Social Experiment (which includes Chance, but also Nico Segal, Peter “Cottontale” Wilkins, Nate Fox and Greg “Stix” Landfair Jr.), portions out the Chance exposure in far more manageable chunks. Instead of Chance the Star, we get Chance the Co-Star, a top billing performance in a decidedly ensemble piece. Make no mistake, the Chance we get on Surf is terrific, Chance in his peak form, but the way that Surf pivots the spotlight is truly its defining attribute. It’s still all sunshine and lollipops, but it’s far more interesting to hear that from seasoned hands like Busta Rhymes and Erykah Badu and riveting newcomers like Noname and Kyle (who crushes on standout “Wanna Be Cool” with such choice lines like “If a cool guy’s cool in the middle of the forest, man, nobody fucking cares”) than being hit over the head with the same perspective. Also, the name on the album belongs to Donnie Trumpet (who has since changed his moniker to just “Nico” because of dingus president reasons), which means the album is as much an instrumental enterprise as it is a lyrical one. While not quite the jazz-rap odyssey that the same year’s To Pimp A Butterfly was, Surf does a great job of further tempering the sugary sweetness of it all with extended musical interludes that, while not exactly thrilling, help create space on the album. This judicious use of resources allows the album to build up to “Sunday Candy,” Chance’s gooiest, sappiest exercise in hook overload. Too many “Sunday Candys” and the album, like the Chance albums to come, would collapse under the weight of its preciousness. Instead, “Sunday Candy” feels like a victory lap, a towering, warm-hearted culmination of goodwill to cap off an album that earns it.
Also Recommended: Chance The Rapper Acid Rap (2013)
59. John Hollenbeck Large Ensemble All Can Work (2018)
File Under: Jazz, Neo-Classical
Historically, jazz is a genre that likes to push against its own boundaries and defy the kinds of limitations that may be placed upon it. Whenever you try to pigeonhole the “jazz sound,” there will be an iconoclastic figure to shatter those expectations. Drummer/composer John Hollenbeck is just such a figure. As the leader of his namesake Large Ensemble, Hollenbeck re-imagines the concept of big band jazz (hence the name) and modern classical music with a decidedly postmodern flair. With a cast of absolutely fiery solo performers at his side – including highly notable pianist Matt Mitchell – Hollenbeck presents All Can Work, an aggressively idiosyncratic yet deeply layered and emotional exploration of the boundless possibilities of making music in tandem with peers. All Can Work either directly or indirectly nods to such artists as Duke Ellington, Steve Reich, Kraftwerk and Azimuth, but almost immediately reveals itself as a singular entity. For such a seemingly staid genre, the music on All Can Work is rich in humor, using vocalist and album MVP Theo Bleckmann to great effect on the album’s most explicitly quirky entries. The spoken word “Long Swing Dream” recounts a Cary Grant acid trip over a shifting rhythmic meter, while the absurd but beautiful title track serves as a tribute to departed band member Laurie Frink through the melodic re-imagining of the late trumpeter’s e-mail correspondences. The song is equal parts absurd and moving, a feat that really encapsulates the album’s entire ethos of musical omniverance and bonhomie. All Can Work dares to take an austere sound and inject it with vitality, curiosity and good humor. Like a true iconoclast, Hollenbeck aims to make head music aimed specifically at the heart. The feat continues to awe me every time I listen to the record.
Also Recommended: Matt Mitchell A Pouting Grimace (2017)
58. Rebel Wizard Voluptuous Worship of Rapture and Response (2018)
File Under: Black Metal, Trad Metal
Heavy metal’s evolution from the primordial goo of the Kinks’ distorted guitars and Black Sabbath’s horror-inducing tri-tones to…whatever kind of death-defying fuckery is occurring today is worthy of a million words, but it’s hard to deny the most fruitful period of the genre occurred through the 80s, when the defined sounds of British heavy metal exploded into countless new streams of heavy music throughout the world. Australia’s one-man metal project Rebel Wizard digs at that expanse of time by using the twin poles of the early 80s NWOBHM scene and the early 90s Norwegian black metal scene to recontextualize that transition of sound. Exploding with riffs and under miles of tape hiss, Voluptuous Worship of Rapture and Response risks coming off like a mere academic exercise, a speculative fiction of sorts, while also dancing with pastiche – what if Iron Maiden played in the same conditions as Darkthrone? But the miracle of Voluptuous Worship is how smoothly it plays out. That is because Rebel Wizard mastermind Bob Nekrasov immediately latches onto the uniting trait between NWOBHM and black metal – sheer ridiculous, over-the-top camp. As evil and actually awful as some of those early black metal progenitors were, they were all just a bunch of insular dorks trying to look and act like superhuman monsters – not a far cry from the sword and sorcery escapism of the NWOBHM’s heyday. From the ludicrous song titles (it isn’t a coincidence that a song called “Drunk on the Wizdom of Unicorn Semen” is the album’s best piece), to the tinny but tantalizing solos, to Nekrasov’s own paint-peeling scream, Voluptuous Worship dares to dance with the ridiculous and comes out unscathed. As an exercise in heavy metal “What ifs?” Voluptuous Worship is a fascinating document worthy of focused appraisal. As a distinctly kick ass experience, however, is where the album’s quality truly emerges.
Also Recommended: Darkthrone The Underground Resistance (2013)
57. Grayceon All We Destroy (2011)
File Under: Progressive Metal
Over the course of the 2010s, Chris Bruni’s indispensable Profound Lore Records has become the go-to curator of aesthetically challenging, forebodingly heavy, inescapably impenetrable heavy music. Through a wide span of artists ranging from Yob to Cobalt to Full of Hell to Ash Borer to Bell Witch and on and on (and on), Profound Lore has captured a certain brand of mammoth terror. And then there’s Grayceon. Although very much a formidable heavy metal presence, Grayceon kind of stands out among the PL roster. All We Destroy, their lone entry in the PL canon, is the label’s biggest anomaly. Grayceon’s cello-laden metal is nimble and elastic, not plodding and oppressive; melodically pristine and alluring instead of, y’know, whatever Pissgrave are doing. Even the cover art clashes with their labelmates, all garish tones and a band logo that looks like a tag on a train car. Viva la difference, I say! All We Destroy still sounds like one of the most singular entries in the history of underground metal. The album tips its hat to the era’s brooding and tumult, but belongs in the class of genre outliers who created a path by applying a lighter touch. Think of Voivod’s melodi-prog take on 80s thrash or System Of A Down providing a quirky and unpredictable (not to mention highly political) alternative to nu-metal’s dunderheaded bro-posturing. The songs on All We Destroy contain a sprier sensibility than the majority of modern metal. Album highlight “Shellmounds” builds into a frenetic guitar v. cello riff-off that rides stop-start dynamics over Jackie Perez Gratz’s mournful then terrified vocal turn. Elsewhere, the concerto-like “We Can” amounts to the decade’s most digestible 17-minute track with the kind of prog flourishes that never succumb to the song’s busyness. That palatable busyness is the defining trait of All We Destroy. The album jolts with high energy thrills without losing its dead serious glare. During a decade defined by boundary pushing metal bands who effectively shucked convention and carved their own path, Grayceon stood alone.
Also Recommended: Grayceon IV (2018)
56. Hop Along Painted Shut (2015)
File Under: Indie Rock, Emo
To reduce Hop Along to a discussion of singer Frances Quinlan’s voice is to disrespect the complex, layered and uniquely intricate music that Quinlan and her bandmates make. Hop Along has such a multi-dimensional sound that it would be insulting to peg them at “that band with the singer whose voice cracks.” But – spoiler alert – I’ll be talking about the band again on this list, so let’s talk about Frances Qunlan’s voice, shall we?
Quinlan’s voice is a fantastically curious instrument, like a broken music box that lets out a searing buzz every third or fourth note. As Hop Along’s songs tumble through ornate passages before sprawling out into a raw spaciousness, Quinlan’s voice follows suit as she delivers curious melodies that pivot at each emotional crack. Call it an affectation if you want, but it works magnificently on Painted Shut, the band’s slow burn breakthrough. The key dynamic of Painted Shut and the band as a whole is the push-pull between immediacy and obfuscation, the intricacy of the ornate indie rock arrangements and the physical thrust of their (and specifically Quinlan’s) basement show roar. And while the air-tight band’s well-considered (and very Saddle Creek) sound is what has kept me around for so many listens, it’s Quinlan’s presence that stayed in my head first. Months after my first ambivalent listen to Painted Shut, it was the nagging refrains of “At the door came a knoooooock” and “West Virginiaaaaaa” that I couldn’t displace from my brain. Once the voice hooks you, powerhouse tracks like “Horseshoe Crabs” and “Sister Cities” sink into your system like a virus. The fact that Quinlan’s writer’s pen is as well-honed as her voice and the band’s chemistry is just icing. With all cylinders firing, Painted Shut gives countless opportunities for listener onboarding.
Also Recommended: Hop Along Get Disowned (2012)
55. Big Thief Two Hands (2019)
File Under: Indie Rock, Folk
In early 2019, Big Thief released UFOF, the album that cemented their place as Major Players within a larger modern indie rock hierarchy. Shortly thereafter, Big Thief dropped UFOF’s Irish twin in the kind of flex that seemed at odds with such a modest sounding band. But Two Hands isn’t just an act of modest audacity (slightly conflicting terms, but whatever); the album’s biggest flex is how sonically set apart it is from the rest of Big Thief’s catalogue, particularly UFOF. Where UFOF was cosmic and elliptical, Two Hands feels human and earthbound. The album boasts a live, physical energy that wasn’t at the forefront of the band’s previous effort. Of course, being one for tangible songs, that’s why I like it more. Even with a couple of tracks that still kind of wash over the listener, there is an unprecedented immediacy with much of the material on Two Hands. From the natural rock warmth of “Shoulders” to the heartland shuffle of “Forgotten Eyes,” Two Hands captures Big Thief at their most off-the-cuff and spontaneous. These are songs that the band continues to sharpen and mold into shape; Two Hands merely captures a moment in the life cycle of their existence. This concept takes its most compelling form on centrepiece “Not,” which grinds and scrapes with raw ferocity and all the wild abandon of a single live performance. UFOF was the sound that swirls inside the heads of Adrienne Lenker and her bandmates. Two Hands is what happens when the band gets out of their collective heads and enters into a purely instinctive flow state.
Also Recommended: Sharon Van Etten Are We There (2014)
54. Sky Ferreira Night Time, My Time (2013)
File Under: Pop
The years following Sky Ferreira’s 2013 album, Night Time, My Time, have included a lot of overpromising and even more underdelivering. In 2015, Ferreira began stoking the fires for Masochism, her intended follow-up. The album never came. It was again promised for a 2016 release. Then a 2018 release. Then a 2019 release. Nothing doing. All the while we’d see big feature articles about Ferreira’s tantalizingly imminent return, talking about the frustrating reasons for the lack of a proper follow-up – label shenanigans, perfectionism, acting side gigs. But we’re seven years removed from Night Time, My Time now, and nothing really seems to be getting any closer. Masochism has begun to enter the realm of “lost album” status.
Masochism may very well be synth pop’s answer to SMiLE or m b v, two monumentally long-gestating album’s whose troublesome development led to feverish anticipation. But the truth is, those album’s wouldn’t have been so anticipated if their respective predecessors, Pet Sounds and Loveless, didn’t already justify the hype. If Masochism never arrives, Ferreira’s legacy is already confirmed with Night Time, My Time, possibly the most fully realized pop document of the 2010s. To put it bluntly, we don’t need Masochism, just like we probably didn’t need SMiLE or m b v (or Chinese Democracy or Detox etc.). The living document was always better than the reality of the speculated document. Night Time, My Time is all one really needs. More than a mere pop product or an empty vessel of aesthetic signifiers, Night Time, My Time is pure peak craftsmanship. At once sparklingly radiant with John Hughes soundtrack swoon and sneeringly gritty with 90s alterna-sneer, Night Time, My Time is a pop record with an appeal that can reach beyond both the teeny-bopper scene and the smarty-pants poptimist crowd. At the heart of the album was Ferreira’s vulnerability, which comes to the fore not only on the album’s unedited cover (not pictured above), but also in songs like “Nobody Asked Me (If I Was Okay)” and “I Blame Myself.” On “You’re Not The One,” Ferreira predicts the 80s pivots for both Carly Rae Jepsen and Paramore while “Omanko” sets its sights on Robyn’s brand of accessible pop weirdness, surpassing it with ease. The album doesn’t seem as carefully constructed as something like Jepsen’s monolithically peppy E·MO·TION, but the craftsmanship is sure-footed and bold, never fatiguing the listener with too much of a good thing – E·MO·TION’s relative downfall. Should Ferreira fail to provide a proper follow-up, it will be a loss, but not a devastating one. Night Time, My Time stands on its own as an achievement in pop scrappiness, a perfectly constructed album that casts the kind of shadow that no follow-up should or could live up to.
Also Recommended: Carly Rae Jepsen Emotion (2015)
53. Screaming Females Rose Mountain (2015)
File Under: Rock, Punk Rock
With 2012’s Ugly, Screaming Females had, by all intents and purposes, conquered the punk rock underground. Next up: Straight up rock. But first: mononucleosis.
For a band so steadily prolific, capitalizing on their major breakthrough moment was a priority. Unfortunately, singer-guitarist Marissa Paternoster’s body didn’t agree. Following Ugly, Paternoster had a six-month bout with mono that yielded the kind of lingering body aches that prevented her from even being able to pick up her guitar. For a band with a history of impressive album turnaround rates, the three-year gap between Ugly and Rose Mountain feels monumental. But the physical limitations were too great, as evidenced by “Broken Neck” and the title track, which detail Paternoster’s connection to hospitals and graves. The physical lethargy is noticeable in the band’s sound as well, which is slower and sweeter than ever before. Both “Wishing Well” and “Hopeless,” a track that chronicles the breakup between a body’s will and way, verge on balladry. But this melancholy just adds another new dynamic to the band’s sound. They still know how to rip hard – in fact, they are projecting even further than before as the aptly titled “Triumph” and closer “Criminal Image” emphatically attest. On Rose Mountain, the Screamales are bruised and battered, but not broken. Rose Mountain is a wounded album, but a mighty one nonetheless. The uncontainable energy of Ugly may be gone, but what’s left is a band that sounds even more capable of harnessing their collective power.
Also Recommended: Courtney Barnett Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Sit (2015)
52. The Bad Plus & Joshua Redman The Bad Plus Joshua Redman (2015)
File Under: Jazz
The most clever group of the new jazz movement of the 2000s may have found themselves in a state of intragroup turmoil during the back half of the 2010s, but it was not before releasing what might be the smartest, most melodically progressive jazz record of the decade. Joined by contemporary tenor sax god Joshua Redman (who fits like a glove on this rich, rewarding record), The Bad Plus deliver a treasure trove of future standards that could amount to the most immediately winning jazz record of the decade. Even under a veneer of sophistication and tasteful coolness, The Bad Plus Joshua Redman avoids any of the inevitable sags during its hour runtime. Instead, the group of pianist Ethan Iverson, bassist Reid Anderson and drummer Dave King (all of whom pen tracks along with a pair from Redman) deftly pivot from intricately woven puzzles to open-ended improvisational explorations without losing a shred of melodic momentum. The band themselves leave a ton of room for Redman to enter the fray, from Iverson’s skittering “County Seat,” where Redman jumps in with some wild-eyed solos, to Anderson’s assured but playful “Dirty Blonde,” where the trio + 1 sound like a well-oiled quartet. While the chemistry is apparent, The Bad Plus Joshua Redman survives and thrives on the strength of the songs. Songwriting can often take a backseat to performance in jazz, often to the hindrance of many a jazz record, so it is a relief to hear an album so dutifully committed to the power of songcraft. The Bad Plus Joshua Redman is full of spectacular solos and heroic band interplay, but it is obvious that the primary spark occurred in the writing room.
Also Recommended: The Bad Plus Never Stop II (2018)
51. Carcass Surgical Steel (2013)
File Under: Death Metal, Grindcore
As the greatest band to ever come out of Liverpool (apologies to the La’s), expectations for a Carcass comeback album were off the charts, though not without significant reservations. Metal, and death metal in particular, has long been good to its elder statesmen, allowing them to sustain artistic credibility even as they enter into their lifer stage.With Carcass, who had to contend with a 17-year gap following 1996’s little loved Swansong, there was the risk of sullying a near-perfect catalogue with a needless comeback (look what happened to Morbid Angel). Shockingly, Surgical Steel not only holds the momentum of certified classics like 1991’s grindcore adjacent Necroticism – Descanting the Insalubrious and 1993’s slick, but satisfying Heartwork, it advances the band’s m.o. as if they were still hungry 20-somethings. Although the aptly titled opener “1985” is a bit of a nostalgic throat clearing, the rest of Surgical Steel packs all the spoon-bending riffs and sinister wit that the band built their reputation on, while also pushing their sound along exciting new pathways. The grindy touches that linked Carcass to their mates in Napalm Death are still present, but the album is also lousy with hook-heavy touches that recall the likes of Thin Lizzy and UFO. Lyrically, the album is still brimming with sadistic glee, while also mirthfully dissecting the adages of a fellow Liverpudlian (“A working class hero is something to bleed,” bellows singer Jeff Walker, who is in absolute perfect form here). When their tongues aren’t lying dismembered on the surgery table, they’re planted firmly in their cheeks. Surgical Steel is the sound of a band tossing away the burden of expectation and simply delivering their sound as they see fit, fully bathing in the sheer joy of making complex, weird, dense, wickedly hilarious and breathlessly fun music.
Also Recommended: Napalm Death Utilitarian (2012)
VIKINGS & BEEKEEPERS 