Shall we...
5. The National
Trouble Will Find Me
Supposedly inspired by the birth of guitarist Aaron Dessner's daughter, The National's newest effort is noticeably lighter and simpler than 2010's High Violet. However, that doesn't mean it's not as good, or unrecognizable. Each sound is more precisely chosen, the lyrics more tuneful and elegant than ever. Also, just look at that album art; it's pretty sweet.
4. Parquet Courts
Light Up Gold
"Beachy," "fun," and "completely childish" are not words you would normally associate with punk rock, but Parquet Courts know what they're doing. Technically this album was released last year, but it's reissue in 2013, and the fact that no one heard of it in 2012, means it makes the list, and boy does it deserve to be here. There's not a single bad song; whether it's 45-seconds long or 6-minutes long, every one will have you bouncing up and down in your seat as you drive down the highway.
3. Kanye West
Yeezus
Kanye has made some bold moves (musically) to release this album: there's no actual single, no album art, it was recorded in a Paris hotel room. The bass is bombed out, the beats are awkward and off-time, the lyrics are controversial at the best of times. But all that just adds up to what is not only Kanye's best album, but on of the most stylish and unflinching Hip-Hop albums of all time.
2. Queens of the Stone Age
...Like Clockwork
Surprised? I know, me too. As much as I've been talking about this album it only made it to #2. That doesn't mean it's not the best thing Queens has done since 2002's Songs for the Deaf, because it is. Dark and minimally produced, Clockwork is the craziest turn QOTSA could have taken that doesn't include polka, but it's crazy awesome.
1. Deafheaven
Sunbather
A story: when I listen to albums to "review" them, I do so in the car on my way to and from work. My car speakers, though standard, are better than any set of headphones I've ever used, and I can't just sit and listen to music by itself, so the car is the perfect place. That said, on my way home one day in mid-June, I put on Sunbather, Deafheaven's second album, and having not turned down the volume from my NIN playlist, "Dream House" opened with an ear-shattering loudness. I quickly adjusted the knob to a more manageable (and bystander friendly) setting, but as I drove up I-95 I began to realize something: it wasn't loud enough anymore. So I turned it up. A minute later, it wasn't loud enough again. This pattern continued until the volume in my car was above the original "ear-shattering" level, and it was just getting good. No, it wasn't road noise, or crappy production that made the music continually softer, it's just that Sunbather begs to be played at the loudest possible setting--Spinal Tap's mythical "11". So, an hour later, with my car windows shattered and blood coming out of my ears, I came to a realization: with its wall of sonic noise and indiscernible screaming, this is what metal is supposed to sound like.
