Welcome to the 4th Annual Baltimore Music Festival, this time featuring Il Douchey Orange Julius and the Terrible Awful No-Good Very Bad Year. We're going to change things up a bit, in that all the categories will be released in just one article. THIS ONE! Also, in years past, we've only ranked the Top 3, but I've decided, since I have the kajillion hours of free time at home this year, all 50 will be ranked (though still separated into their categories).
But before we get to the music (which, despite a pandemic, recession, and political stupidness, was very, very good this year), some statistics...
Number of albums reviewed: 191
Spotify listening minutes: over 35,000
Longest artist name: Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs
Longest album name: Shall We Go On Sinning So That Grace May Increase?
(Sorry 1975, not this year)
Wasn't that fun? More fun than any of us have had in a while anyway.
A Note: This year began one of the more annoying trends in music, releasing double-albums as two separate albums. Look, if you're going to completely unload on the world and are egotistical and pretentious enough to think we need over 75 minutes from you in one go, have the balls to put it all together. That said, several of those are in this list, so clearly I have no spine.
...anyway, let's do this!
Shout Outs
When you review 191 albums, obviously you can't include them all in 50 (I mean, that's how counting works), so here's some cray cray great albums that deserve shout outs and your listening attention:
Actress Karma & Desire, Moses Boyd Dark Matter, Bill Callahan Gold Record, Caribou Suddenly, Catholic Action Celebrated by Strangers, The Chicks Gaslighter, Christine & The Queens La Vita Nuova, Cornershop England Is a Garden, Baxter Dury The Night Chancers, Jay Electronica A Written Testimony, Four Tet Sixteen Oceans, Grimes Miss Anthropocene, J Hus Big Conspiracy, Lady Gaga Chromatica, Lianne La Havas Lianne La Havas, Lil Baby My Turn, Lyra Pramuk Fountain, Mac Miller (RIP) Circles, Nation of Language Introduction, Presence, Nadia Reid Out of My Province, Jeff Rosenstock No Dream, Shamir Shamir, Chris Stapleton Starting Over, Thundercat It Is What It Is, U.S. Girls Heavy Light
Pheww... alright, let's get started
Honorable Mentions
The View from Halfway Down
Rock Listen
Ultimate Success Today
Post-Punk Listen
Erratics & Unconformities
Ambient Listen
WINNER: Best Album Art of 2020
Ghosts V & VI: Together/Locusts
Electro Listen
Shall We Go On Sinning So That Grace May Increase?
Leftfield Listen
color theory
Indie Rock Listen
Indie Pop Listen
Magic Oneohtrix Point Never
Abstract Electronic Listen
The Slow Rush
Alternative Rock Listen
Alfredo
Hip Hop Listen
Bitterzoet
Synth-Pop Listen
God Has Nothing to Do with This Leave Him Out of It
Hip Hop Fingers crossed
Psychedelic Rock Listen
Experimental Listen
Silver Ladders
Ambient Listen
Throes of Joy in the Jaws of Defeatism
Grindcore Listen
Soul Listen
Indie Rock Listen
Ungodly Hour
Trap Listen
Inner Song
Techno Listen
Every Bad
Alternative Rock Listen
African Jazz Listen
Power Pop Listen
Folk Rock Listen
Metalcore Listen
Working Men's Club
New Wave? Whatever 80's Depeche Mode is Listen
Saint Cloud
Indie Rock Listen
Indie Pop Listen
Runners Up
A Hero's Death
Post-Punk Listen
Just last year, Fontaines D.C. stunned with a smash debut, Dogrel. If you're not entirely familiar with post-punk, the last time a band with this sound followed up their universally acclaimed debut with a darker, more versatile sophomore effort with an album cover featuring a statue just a year later...well, at least we got New Order out of it. A Hero's Death is as somber as the title suggests, but it features some of Fontaines' most intricate writing: Grian Chatten's lyrics are harder hitting, Carlos O'Connell's guitar is sharper and features more musical influences than just Gang of Four, and Tom Coll's drums carry the dirges--and the rocking pick-ups like album highlight "Televised Mind"--with more drive and punch. And, as always with this genre, the bass, masterfully played by Conor Deegan, leads in places most modern rock would almost certainly have a guitar. A Hero's Death doesn't have an ass-kicking mosh-starter like Dogrel's "Too Real," but the subtlety on the rare high-energy moments like "A Lucid Dream" and the title track, or the beauty of "You Said" more than admirably replace it. One of the most fun things about post-punk--a genre very near and dear to me--is its subversion of standard rock tropes, and its ability to throw you, almost violently, from one emotion to another: depression, anger, acceptance...perhaps there's more grief-analysis to this album with "death" in the title after all.
P.S. I saw this band open for IDLES (an utterly insane punk band in their own right) pre-pandemic and they totally blew the roof of the repurposed art gallery.
What's Your Pleasure?
Disco/House Listen
Get your hairspray, platforms, and light-up floors ready, because this is a steamy trip down to Studio 54. Jessie Ware has been making competent (and in the case of her debut, Devotion, beyond competent) soul-pop for almost ten years now, but never before has her breathy, ballad-ready voice ever sounded like this. While providing some of her most unseemly lyrics, Ware perfectly skulks around, lingers near, and stalks the dancefloor that is absolutely brimming with bump-and-grind bass lines, Moroder-esque synths, and jazzy beats. If you asked anyone when they thought this album came out, they would definitely say "umm...when was Abba a thing," because people don't know history anymore, but that would be close enough. Obviously the Italo-disco of the title track is unforgettably satisfying, but the rump-rattling "Ooh La La," the clearly-a-Janet-Jackson-Control-single "Soul Control," the Robyn-like pop of "Save a Kiss," and the Donna Summer-style uplifting closer "Remember Where You Are" are so unexplainably enjoyable and fun that this is definitely the soundtrack to the next ten years of parties after we're allowed to see humans again.
After Hours
Synthwave Listen
There's not much left to say that hasn't already been said about Abel Tesfaye and his musical persona The Weeknd, including how much my spell-check HATES that name. But the biggest reason for that is that he rarely ever disappoints, and continues to find new and interesting ways to explore a sonic palette many thought played out days after his debut, House of Balloons. And while many of his contemporaries have either switched back to mainstream R&B or hip hop, Tesfaye has stood strong, a marble sculpture in the garden of synths. After Hours is not only a welcome turn after the overly pop-formula Starboy, and the incredibly, well, melancholy My Dear Melancholy, but is also a fabulous turn to more intriguing and often experimental sounds in the genre more akin to Chromatics or Justice on songs like "Too Late" or "Escape from LA," while still maintaining his panache for absolute bangers like the M83-inspired "Blinding Lights" or the Allan Parsons Project references of "Save Your Tears." Combining this with Tesfaye's ability to write teenage-angst lyrics about breakups, vague sadness, and partying all weekend (weeknd? Now I don't know anymore!) that somehow aren't dumbed down or bland means that After Hours is the kind of album that careers are launched from...if he wasn't already incredibly famous. Damnit, man, you've done it again.
Women in Music, Pt. III
Rock Listen
It has been a looong time since Haim released an album, especially considering we all forgot their sophomore effort, which fell so flat after the hype from their debut that many thought they might just be...done. Not so fast, critics everywhere! This trio doesn't give up that easily, and in a world nearly devoid of pure rock, Women in Music Pt. III is a very, very welcome addition. Haim do there best to wear every mask possible, trying to cover every subgenre of classic rock they can, since apparently no one else is going to damnit! There's both yacht-rock and surf-rock (hey, two beach things) on opener "Los Angeles," the both Heart and somehow Sheryl Crow inspired sounds of smash single "The Steps," electronic influences on "I Know Alone," the soul/funk of "3 AM," and even hints of industrial on "All That Ever Mattered." Is there anything these women can't do in music? Pt. III? Normally, this jack-of-all-trades dabbling generally means you master none, as per the idiom, but here, Haim master every...single...one. There's not a sour note or misstep. Women in Music Pt. III is an album you can give to anyone and every person will have a different favorite. You could teach a history of modern music class with this album alone.
SAWAYAMA
Pop Rock Listen
Finding a debut pop album that's anything other than a test of patience already places this album on the list. But the jaw-dropping surprise of Rina Sawayama's full-length debut is truly something to behold. Sawayama masterfully--and I really mean that--combines pure pop with some nasty, guitar-ripping progressive metal elements for an entirely unique experience. There's songs here, like "XS," that you could swear were a Britney Spears single when all of a sudden you're beaten over the head with the crazy distortion of a Bring Me the Horizon bridge. "STFU!" is basically a pure metal song straight out of the Lacuna Coil catalog, with Lil' John samples for some reason? But there is no reason so STFU. Your mind is pulled in a hundred different directions listening to this album: Rina's voice is gorgeous, the music is...just confusing as all hell in the most refreshing way, and the songwriting is award worthy before you take into account this is her DEBUT. Is it pop? Is it techno? Is it metal? Is it whatever Bjork does? Whatever it is, Sawayama is painting with all the colors and no restrictions. She can go forward doing whole albums in the style of any one song and nobody would ever be able to pin her to any one sound.
Punisher
Indie Rock Listen
In the dense, nearly unending list of artists using music to cope with grief, Phoebe Bridgers is unique in what she is grieving for. Punisher has a deep and dark reminiscence behind it. In rich, hand-plucked guitar tones and a voice that's shaky in a "I'm afraid I have some bad news, we did all we could," kind of way, Bridgers delivers "Garden Song" as both thesis statement and Vonnegut-esque moral: she grieves for the past; not for what happened per se, just that it existed at all. "I don't know when you got taller," she sings, through my tears, clearly regretting that anything has ever changed, the existentialist's terror. The sound of the album picks up on "Kyoto," a horn-backed Arcade Fire influenced ditty, but the theme remains the same: can we go anywhere to escape the ravages of time? The title track teases the reveal of Bridgers' secret, but it evades even her among the lush strings and dense soundscapes. The skin-crawling finger-picking at the start of "Halloween" brings to mind the score of Akira while Bridgers sings about how only this bizarre holiday offers a respite from all the truly horrifying things happening outside the other 364 days of the year. After 40 minutes of some of the most plush depression anyone has ever produced, Bridgers' secret is clear: she is both the punisher and her only victim.
Trying to place Fetch the Bolt Cutters into a simple genre is like trying to put a square peg in a round hole that Wile E Coyote painted on a wall. Thank God "experimental" exists as the new catchall that "indie" used to be, and "alternative" before that. And Fiona Apple has been categorized as all of those at various points in her career. What makes her one of the special people is that when she finds out, she just completely reinvents herself so that the tag doesn't stick anymore, beguiling and angering discographers and musicologists the world over. However, this album is, by a wide margin, the most experimental release in all of music since Trout Mask Replica. That's a bit hyperbolic: Swans exists, and Xiu Xiu's Girl With Basket of Fruit was the cruelest way anyone has ever treated sound; but it is emotionally true. The structure of so many songs here change halfway through and then again at the end, or sometimes for the second chorus but only the second one. Then there's the instrumentation: the entire album is only Fiona Apple's voice and percussion instruments (yes, a piano is a percussion instrument, ask your 4th grade music teacher). It's a difficult choice on the best of days, but to produce an entire album that way is astounding. Fetch the Bolt Cutters also sees some of Apple's most unhinged performances, from the dolphin noises at the end of "I Want You To Love Me," to the random beat poetry readings in the middle of the title track, to the 'round-layering of "Under the Table." But behind all that is solid songwriting like you wouldn't believe, to the point where you just can't stop listening even when there's definitely something else you should be doing. It's like a visual art installation that resists interpretation.
The Best of the Year
RTJ4
Hip Hop Listen
Is it weird to say I dread this write-up? I have done nothing but go on and on espousing the qualities of Run the Jewels, but relistening to RTJ4 while writing this is like agreeing to do a third tour in a warzone. When RTJ started, El-P and Killer Mike made hard-hitting, face-slapping rap that was addictive and fun. They upped the ante a hundred fold with Run the Jewels 2, a perfect album, that took their already fantastic formula and added excellent guest spots, gut-punching beats, and a smattering of lyrical substance to go with their party rap (see Zack de la Rocha guesting on two songs). Run the Jewels 3 increased this effect even more, and introduced the thematic tie-in with samples from the old Ticketmast--ahem, -tron, "Ticketron" phone hotline, and glimpses of their live performances. It also took a more musically darker tone in its production and beat construction.
This was a...grim portent.
RTJ4 is so heavily political it might as well be an NWA album with guest spots from Gil Scott-Heron and Aesop Rock. Every song is filled to the brim with entire short story anthologies of treatises on (and this is just a small sample): police violence against people of color, summary executions, caging children in concentration camps, wealth inequality, health service access inequality, corruption, Russian-owned orange presidents, violence against women, racism, misogyny, Nazism, propaganda presented as "news," the dark history of slavery in America, and many, many more hits.
And if you want production value, Jesus answered you and gave you one 39-minute relentless gauntlet of all of humanity's worst tendencies. And it is just so engrossing you barely even notice 2 Chainz is here (his best bars in years, btw) before Pharrell shows up and then Josh Homme is playing guitar? Holy shit was that 39 minutes already? Is...are they getting a TV show? This headbanging has got to stop, my neck has never been this sore.
If El-P gets any better at beat-making I think he'll be apotheosized right in front of us. Every single track is an absolute fire banger. "yankee and the brave (ep. 4)" (...are we sure this isn't a TV show?) takes what would be repetitive in the hands of any lesser duo, but here set the table for your journey to Dismaland. "Ooh La La" (second time that song name has come up) is the closest thing you'll find to a "standard" hip hop single: just two dudes bragadociously b-boying it up over, like how many times do I have to tell you about the beats? They're other-worldly. But even this "fun" song has lines like "Warmongers are dumpin', they'll point and click at your pumpkin / Your suffering is scrumptious, they'll put your kids in the oven." Heavy, man.
A track clearly titled to evoke delightful 80's nostalgia, "goonies vs. E.T.," does just that purely to tell you that nostalgia is for bitches and get your head out of your ass already: "It's the funniest shit, finally the money up / And print on the kid and planet hit the skids / Livin' in a valley of flames like, 'I win' / Skyline ablaze in a Bob Ross pic;" and "Ain't no revolution is televised and digitized / You've been hypnotized and Twitter-ized by silly guys / Cues to the evenin' news make sure you ill-advised / Got you celebratin' the generators of genocide."
This is followed by the most horrifying song in rap, "walking in the snow" which I've discussed ad nauseum and still to this very minute reminds me of things so tragic, depressing, and infuriating that I won't go into it again. Just know that when I heard this the first time, literally days after George Floyd's murder, it made me freeze in place. It still makes me cry rage tears.
"JU$T," one of the best songs this already god-like duo has ever produced, discusses the totally light fare of capital distorting power and warping people's value systems. This track sees Mike at his dirty south-iest in his line delivery, but this is no crunk debasement, with lines like "You believe corporations runnin' marijuana? / And your country gettin' ran by a casino owner." Pharrell's pre-chorus changes a bit each time to reflect a different horrible way money skews human perception. First: "Mastered economics 'cause you took yourself from squalor." Second: "Master of opinion 'cause you vote with the white collar." And through all of them runs the theme of "Look at all these slave masters posin' on your dollar." Bet you never thought of that before. There's a lot of them on our money and stamps and signs and statues and parks and monuments.
For the first time, Run the Jewels have put their force behind one single message. Sure, they both lovingly worked together as brothers on great art--yes, ART--before, but they danced around the issues, dropping some serious bars here and there to keep themselves grounded. But RTJ4 picks up where Rage's Battle of Los Angeles left off, and is just as hardcore. If you don't want to rip the goddamn system down by the end of this, then you're already their drone. Resist.
Superstar
Synth-Pop Listen
The opening seconds of Superstar are like the phantasmagorical entry into a lost Alice in Wonderland chapter where she journeys to a land where Ryan Gosling from Drive takes you to various points in the Suspiria universe. A simple beat opens up to an veritable orgy of glorious neon synths, and you truly do believe, as Caroline Rose sings, that nothing's impossible.
I came across Caroline Rose's second album since her reinvention from country ingenue to pop-rocker purely by chance: scanning Metacritic for something new to listen to while locked in my house for the 473rd consecutive year this year. "This could be fun" I thought, as I saw the reviews (glowing) and album cover which definitely gives the hint of pop with a twist. I had no idea just how mind-altering the experience would be.
Rose's first venture outside of country was 2018's Loner--which I, sadly, only discovered because of first listening to this--is a pumped-up jam of a rock album punctuated by loud mellotrons and brilliant lyricism. Superstar is another animal entirely. An electro-wave thesis dipped in the shiny veneer of pop. This album changed how I judge music, and it consumed my every waking moment for the better part of a month after my first listen.
That's the thing about Superstar: it's utterly addictive. The wobbly synth stabs that open "Got to Go My Own Way" form a curiosity rabbit-hole that absolutely demands to be investigated. And it leads to an even greater reward, a boisterous, funky bass line that Parliament would kill for in "Do You Think We'll Last Forever?" What Rose sings about here, that obsession, is the same feeling this song inspired in me about this album. Listening to any one song just leads to listening to the rest, compulsively, instinctually.
"Feelings Are a Thing of the Past" is a gloomy, Bowie's-Low-esque soundscape that is definitely more of a feeling than a proper song, but it's just such a great lead-in to "Feel the Way I Want," easily one of the best songs of the year. It's bumping beat and Casio keyboard rhythm section back the best self-love anthem of the millenium: "Everybody's so quick to stand up and say, 'gotta be this way or that way' / Gotta ask yourself, 'is this really what I wanted?' / Everybody's so quick cry out and say 'gotta get your shit together' / Well baby watch me freak out." It has inspired many a fist pumping dance around the living room and will continue to be the soundtrack to many more. God, when will live music come back? This song is in dire need of a room full of people clapping in unison.
The Interpol bass line that opens "Someone New" conceals an explosive break-up "fuck you" that disturbingly doubles as another concert-floor-jumping song about obsession. Here, it's confusing as to whether the "someone new" Rose is becoming is her turning over a new leaf and showing it off, or her Sandra Dee-esque transformation into the thing she thinks this love interest wants. It is an incredibly dark turn that is lit only by the fluorescent production of Rose's empty-hall-echoed voice and ear-filling sound that leaves no empty space to breathe.
By the time we reach Superstar's conclusion, the parting couldn't be more bitter. "I Took a Ride" brings to bear all the Kavinsky-level might Rose's synthesizers have to offer, not just filling the space with sound, but dripping with emotion as well. The transition from her crooning "someday soon, my baby's coming back," to the arpeggios of entrancing keyboards and wall of pure electronic thrum still gives me goosebumps; and may I remind you, I listened to this song every day for a month. The track ends on a ghostly whisper of a live piano, a superstar fallen to the lowly earth. Will it rise again?
Untitled (Black Is/Rise)
If, like me, you are wondering who Sault is, then good luck to you sir or madam. The experimental R&B collective from the UK seemingly appeared out of nowhere two years ago and have given no interviews or photos, produced no music videos, and have never performed live. They have no Wikipedia entry and are all but ghosts on social media platforms. All you need to know is that they are a true marvel of musical geniuis.
This year, filled with turmoil and social unrest, they released two albums that serve as complements to one another, hence their inclusion here as a single entry. And believe me when I say, you must listen to both. Untitled is the green light at the end of the musical dock that so many artists strive to attain, longingly lust for, and most never reach. A revolution in the audible experience.
Black Is begins with its historical reference point, a protest chant that could very easily be heard in the streets today, before giving way to a melancholy piano backing a spoken word passage about the meaning of blackness that gives the album its name. This first section has these essays scattered throughout, giving context to the brilliant songs around them.
"Stop Dem" follows the opener's protest-based lead, and a funk drum line backs a line of cybernetic programmed hooks. A chorus sings about the necessity of the black experience at the fever pitch of a street demonstration while a sample repeats the track title back to us, begging the world to do something about the injustice suffered by people of color worldwide. The song builds to a roaring din before cutting all sound except the loop of someone shouting "STOP DEM!" It is all too haunting.
"Don't Shoot Guns Down" continues in this vein. Samba rhythms and booming bass back a looped sample that presents its message in the simplest, clearest way possible: the policing system is inherently racist and designed to harm the historically oppressed. It is a short diversion from the heavier songs that bookend it, the Solange-inspired "Hard Life," and "Wildfires," a beautifully presented song that I could just as easily see on an early Moby album.
Michael Kiwanuka, the UK soul-revival prodigy that gave us the unforgettable "Black Man in a White World" and "You Ain't the Problem" provides a brilliant guest appearance on "Bow." His emotional voice provides a strong anchor for the driving bass line, flitting guitar, and ancestral drumming; and of course, in standard Kiwanuka fashion, there's an incomprehensible chorus shout sample looped throughout.
"Monsters," the emotional climax of the first movement, begins with a 70s organ played with nearly every key before revealing an overblown recording of vocals that shook me to my very core: "Take off your suit, you're just a sorry clown / And why are all my people disappearing now? / ... / Baby, your mind is worth more than gold / Wipe your tears so they can see the glow / Pray, pray, pray, indigo child / Just so you know, they call us monsters 'cause they're in denial."
The first act closes with "Pray Up Stay Up," a fantastic ode to Motown and doo-wop that parrots every facet of the old songs: the barbershop quartet of voices, the "oohs" and "woos" in the backing track, the high-pitch plinking piano line. It's a great summary of the imposing sermon that is Black Is.
But while Black Is serves as the sermon, Rise is the joyful choir.
"Strong" opens the second movement with another addictive bass line and brilliantly selected vocal sample loop. The song's message about staying strong and not quitting the fight is exactly the message we need after Black Is' message of everything that's wrong. Rise is here to tell you how to fix it. The song then changes to a gleaming drumline that could easily lead either a parade or a march.
The influences here still include ancestral drums, jazz, and civil rights protests, but now added are the dazzling strings of disco, the frenetic wall-of-sound from Philadelphia soul, and the cool-wave synths of 80's house. This is a musical experience unlike any other, and a presciently important one.
"I Just Want to Dance" makes you want to do just that, while "Street Fighter"...well let's just say there's a lot of really well-titled songs on Rise. It's a joyful fist of righteous rebellion, a celebration of culture and ethnicity, and a stunningly beautiful dissertation on the black experience, exemplified on "Son Shine," in the staggering elegance of "Free," and the surprise social comedy of "You Know It Ain't."
After a cerebrally thrilling section of orchestral pieces, Rise concludes with "Little Boy," a funky riff and upbeat piano line that hides its moribund message: "Little boy, little boy, when you get older / You can ask me all the questions / And I'll tell you the truth about the boys in blue / Little boy, little boy, when you get older / And you're searching for the answers / And the Lord's truth for those who look like you." And yet we end still hopeful that maybe, one day, we really can put all this evil behind us.
The future is bright, we just have to build it.
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