My Favorite Albums of the Decade: 50-41

When I started writing this blog way back in 2011, I only intended it to be a hobby, a writing outlet that maybe a small number of my friends would be interested in. It’s crazy to think that from those humble beginnings, the blog has become what it is now: a writing outlet that maybe a small number of my friends are interested in. This blog has opened absolutely no doors for me, has never gained a real audience, and if anything it has probably hindered my personal and professional success. But I’ve had a lot of fun writing it, and so I’m proud to present this albums of the decade list to the always accepting and understanding void.

While I have a blast writing and sharing these lists, I always have some ambivalence about ranking things, which I know is reductive and unfair. These are just my personal favorites, not any kind of attempt at saying these are “the best,” and I’m not trying to contrive up some weird narrative of what the decade was through songs. However, I will say I know this narrow range of music I love quite well, and I believe there is an internal logic to this list even if you don’t agree with it. Above all, I hope people find something new or something old that they overlooked and are encouraged to give it a listen based on this ranking.

50. Wild Flag –  Wild Flag (2011)

Before the formation of Ex Hex and the ill-fated reunion of Sleater-Kinney, Carrie Brownstein, Janet Weiss, and Mary Timony formed this predictably one-off indie rock all-star team along with Rebecca Cole. Nobody has talked about this album in at least seven years, but it holds up in part because of the ephemeral nature of the project, which made every song feel like friends jamming together instead of worrying about their careers or legacies. Timony’s contributions were most welcome after she had been out of the limelight for awhile, particularly “Glass Tambourine,” which perfectly melded Brownstein and Weiss’ rock heroics with her spacey, psychedelic vision.

49. Tess Parks – Blood Hot (2013)

There are “old souls,” and then there is Tess Parks, who in her early 20s sounded like she’d smoked cigarettes for 40 years and on Blood Hot released a stubbornly old-fashioned collection of druggy 60s-style psychedelic rock songs. Parks’ raspy vocals and cool aura made Blood Hot feel like a throwback to the original spirit of rock and roll, where it was just about hearing a unique presence and voice backed by basic instrumentation. This album was very out of step with current popular trends, but it was easy to imagine another time where Parks was a legitimate rock star.

48. Carly Rae Jepsen – Emotion (2015)

As the nefarious trend of clickbait poptimism took hold of the music industry, pop stars became multi-media brands that generated viral content aimed at deranged lunatics online, who were more like cult members than appreciators of music. In this depressing context, the strategically-titled Emotion became a bright light because Carly Rae Jepsen dared to write actual songs with actual feeling, with a focus on the art of the pop song instead of novelty. The thoughtful craft and open-hearted performance on songs like “Run Away With Me” took on a certain humble charm that felt revolutionary in a world full of egotistical pop.

47. U.S. Girls – In A Poem Unlimited (2018)

Over the course of the decade, I gained a healthy distaste for “message music” that sought approval through its valorous political statements instead of its craft. In a Poem Unlimited worked because the politics in it felt like they organically came out of Meg Remy’s narratives, whether it was about a woman seeking revenge against an abuser on “Velvet 4 Sale” or her personal loss of faith with a former president on “M.A.H.” This album never settled for easy platitudes; the harsh realities espoused by Remy were abrasive and complex, just like its noisy-yet-sweet pop sound.

46. Charlotte Gainsbourg – Rest (2017)

Charlotte Gainsbourg’s dark, disco-inspired album was full of catchy and danceable songs, the kind that are often colloquially referred to as “jams” or “bangers.” The production and funky sound of Rest was its big hook, but its themes of grief and loss were what made it memorable, and Gainsbourg’s lyrics (occasionally in French) often formed a clash with the naturally joyous sound. This was one of the albums that had the best balance of the good parts of pop with a sense of sophistication and artistry.

45. St. Vincent – Strange Mercy (2011)

St. Vincent spent the latter half of the decade cultivating a self-conscious and inorganic “look how weird I am” persona, but her sound worked best when the strangeness was more subtle and subversive like on Strange Mercy. What made her music compelling to me at this time was how it twisted indie rock norms; songs that sounded normal would be twisted by her blasts of guitar and the more innocent sounds often served as fronts for dark and occasionally creepy lyrics. This album had just the right amount of strangeness and experimentation in its otherwise accessible indie rock shell.

44. Julia Holter – Aviary (2018)

Aviary was, as the kids say, “extra,” with its 90-minute run time and assortment of deep references and quirky sounds, including one song that was basically a bagpipe wailing for eight straight minutes. Julia Holter’s epic project captured the overwhelming non-stop news and media cycle of this time, but she turned the excessiveness into a beautiful alternate reality that encouraged listeners to explore and try to solve its many riddles. Even if Aviary was more admirable than enjoyable at times, its ambition, distinctiveness, and timeliness made it an album I thought about a lot, and I suspect it will hold up in the future.

43. Cold Beat – Into the Air (2015)

Into the Air was the album where Cold Beat established themselves as one of the decade’s most intriguing rock acts, a band with a sound that seemed so familiar yet was oddly hard to define. Hannah Lew’s project broke through on this album in part because of its sequencing; starting with more traditional post-punk, there was a gradual feeling of ascension through the songs until by the end, they had turned from a traditional guitar band into an icy synth band. Its biggest highlights, “Cracks” and “Am I Dust,” were in the middle of the album and showed the band mid-evolution, leading to a bracing tension and clash of styles.

42. Nervous Trend – Shattered (2015)

Nervous Trend were the best rock band that barely anyone ever heard of and I fondly remember them for being too punk for their own good. While so many other bands understandably promote themselves and do everything they can to earn attention, this group from Australia seemed completely indifferent to anyone even hearing their music, to the point that I had a difficult time finding a way to pay them money (eventually I bought a vinyl from them even though I don’t own a record player). It may seem aggressive to rank this two-song single — the only official release from this band before they broke up — as one of the top releases of the decade, but the fire and urgency on display here was far beyond what almost any other rock band in the decade was capable of.

41. Marie Davidson – Working Class Woman (2018)

On Working Class Woman, Marie Davidson injected a healthy dose of personality into electronic/club music with songs marked by her dark humor and ambivalence about her career. Part of the fun with these songs was trying to figure out her motivations: was “Work It” intended to be a surface-level empowering club jam, or was she mocking our pointlessly competitive workaholic culture and the ridiculous peppiness of most electronic music? I don’t think there was an obvious answer, and this album’s complexity and difficulty in both its sound and the portrayal of its protagonist were its greatest strengths.

Angel Olsen Triumphs on the Stunning “All Mirrors”

“Lark,” the opening track on Angel Olsen’s new album, All Mirrors, is an astonishing song: starting at a barely audible volume, it builds through six minutes of huge dynamic shifts before ending with Olsen practically screaming over loud strings that sound kind of like fireworks going off, as if the world is crashing down around her. Its loose, disjointed structure makes it feel like a high-wire act with Olsen barely keeping her balance. The rest of All Mirrors has a similar energy, owing to her manic ambition, but Olsen never falls off the wire. Like professionals in that field, she’s putting on a show that seems risky when really she is in complete control of the situation, and it leaves witnesses asking “how did they do that?”

Ironically, one of the reasons I’ve never been hugely into Olsen prior to this album is that I didn’t think her music was ambitious enough. Burn Your Fire for No Witness is loved by many, but I was never grabbed by its deliberately lo-fi style, which obscured her ability. I liked My Woman a lot more because she seemed to gain confidence and realize she could belt songs out and still shine even with increased production values. But All Mirrors so thoroughly blows the doors off those albums that it has the effect of making her past music seem quaint. Likely inspired by the extensive scientific research indicating that strings make everything better, she surrounds herself with sweeping orchestral arrangements along with synths, and for the first time it feels like her talent is on the stage it deserves.

Olsen is shooting for high drama on this album, which is a dangerous game to play: go too far and it comes off as cheesy and melodramatic; don’t go far enough and it might just be boring. She and producer John Congleton (who has seemingly recorded 90% of music I listen to this year) go all in with the strings and production flourishes, which might turn off fans of hers used to a more grounded style. But Olsen’s ambition never outpaces her skill, and her voice is such a powerful instrument that it cuts through any amount of production and sound. This is not a comparison I make lightly, but this whole album reminds me of Björk, whose music is often dense and experimental, but tied together by undeniable artistry and a distinct voice that is impossible to ignore.

Part of the ambition of All Mirrors is in its variety of songs, which display all the different facets of Olsen’s tremendous vocal ability. “Lark” itself presented a wide range, but the following 10 tracks show so much more. On “Too Easy” she sings with a softer feminine touch, sighing her lyrics above the sound, while on “New Love Cassette” she practically mumbles and blurs into the synths. The closing tracks, “Endgame” and “Chance” are each throwback ballads like from old movies, with Olsen crooning in a more classic, vintage style. While working in a distinctive slow-tempo, orchestral mode, Olsen finds so many ways to show different sides of herself — as a vocal showcase, this is an impressive of an album as I can remember.

Olsen’s style lends itself to melancholy subject matter, and this doesn’t surprise in that regard except that the songs are cloaked in more ambiguity than before. Maybe it’s just that there are songs called “Spring” and “Summer” and this is being released right at the start of autumn, but the album’s variety and the way it’s sequenced makes me think of the passing of seasons and time. The title track indicates her interest in the possible parallel universes that exist with all of the different choices we’ve made that define who we are, and how we sometimes look back at them with regret. Most of this is through the lens of relationships and striving to live in the moment instead of dwelling on the past or fearing the future. The strings lend a gravitas to Olsen’s words and are a critical part of why every song feels like it has high emotional stakes.

What makes this album feel so real is the way Olsen’s themes of growing up and changing are mirrored by her own evolution as an artist. Even with the dramatic performances and more stagey presentation, everything is still grounded in genuine emotion that connects. The feeling I got that Olsen’s previous music undersold her ability makes me wonder if it took her awhile to find her true confidence, even as she was making acclaimed albums. All Mirrors has the feel of an album she’s been building to her whole career, with all of her previous work serving as a warm-up before the real show — and what a show it is.

Bat For Lashes Returns to Her Roots on “Lost Girls”

Bat For Lashes’ previous album, The Bride, wasn’t exactly a crowd-pleaser: a slow, deadly serious collection of songs about a woman whose husband-to-be dies on her wedding day. While I argued at the time (and still do) that it was an emotionally powerful and worthwhile record that took some audaciousness to release, it was easy to see why many found it unengaging. It’s also easy to see why she chose a more accessible direction on her new album, Lost Girls, which feels like a much-deserved vacation after such heavy material. It’s a shimmering, upbeat pop album that sounds like a love letter to the 80s music and cinema she grew up with.

If you’re like me, the last part raises some eyebrows, since we’re currently at peak “have you heard of this thing called the 80s” culture from Stranger Things and a gaggle of artists embracing that synth pop sound. And like it was hard to argue with The Bride being too slow and difficult, it’s also hard to take issue with anyone who is turned off by the nostalgia and references at play here. But I think it works on this album because Bat for Lashes is referencing a past she actually experienced, and I sense a genuine appreciation for the material she’s referencing instead of it being a cynical nostalgia-grab or put-on. Her whole career proves this in a way, because she was working with these sounds and reference points years ago before it became a cool thing to do. Lost Girls feels more like her coming full circle than her jumping on the bandwagon of 80s mythologizing.

What also helps Lost Girls become more than the sum of its nostalgic parts is that, well, the songs are great. Similar to some other pop acts I’ve appreciated in recent years like Kristin Kontrol and Carly Rae Jepsen, this album has a charming “I’m just here to write memorable pop songs” energy coming from an artist with a deep knowledge of the craft. The first five tracks on this album could all be classified as “jams” (good songs), starting with the lush “Kids in the Dark,” which introduces the album’s themes of young love that are further established on “The Hunger,” which has a similar slow-burn style with an organ added to the mix. “Feel For You” feels almost like a conscious attempt to see how simple she can make a song with it still being good — it’s just a recurring synth part and the lyric “I love you; I feel for you” over and over, yet it doesn’t feel underwritten to me in any way. The sparkling “Desert Man” and the whispery, seductive “Jasmine” close out this opening salvo of tracks, all of which prove that Bat For Lashes can still write catchy, listenable pop — she just didn’t feel like doing it on The Bride.

The instrumental “Vampires” segues into the final few tracks, most of which are slower ballads that are in the conventional Bat For Lashes style (meaning slow and beautiful). While this album lacks the emotional punch of The Bride, it’s a useful companion for showing another side of her artistry, and it’s satisfying to hear an album that doesn’t overreach. Without having some grand contrived narrative, Lost Girls still creates its own world that evokes feelings of youthful innocence and imagination.