Wednesday, February 06, 2019

Best of 2018: The Top 10 Albums of the Year


Now that the Uproxx Music Critics Poll and the Pazz & Jop Music Critics Poll are out, both of which I voted in, I figured I might as well unveil my Top 10 albums of 2018. Some years, I'm far outside the consensus. But in 2018, geez, you'd think I cheated off my neighbor's homework. Without further ado, here's my rankings, along with a few stray observations.

1. Kacey Musgraves, Golden Hour
For the first time since 2013, when Frank Ocean's Channel Orange topped Pazz & Jop, my No. 1 matched the electorate's. A colleague noted recently that there aren't a lot of great marriage albums -- there are far more (and far better) breakup albums. Golden Hour is a great marriage album, combining some of the most perfect (and perfectly sappy) love songs with a few frostier numbers about bad relationships and bad friends. In short, it sounds the way life feels even when you're in a happy marriage -- or want to be. Setting aside the casual politics of Same Trailer Different Park, she's made a whole album that builds on the premise of Pageant Material's indelible "Late to the Party" without sacrificing any of her smarts or decency. 

2. Pusha T, Daytona
Two things. First, 2015's King Push – Darkest Before Dawn: The Prelude is underrated. Second, I'm torn about honoring a record that's just barely over 21 minutes. But I decided to set aside my "They used to call these EPs" prejudice because the beats are so choice and the rhymes, as always, are so good. At any length, he's a killer. 

3. Janelle Monae, Dirty Computer
All three of Monae's full-length albums have made my Top 10. And with Dirty Computer, I've allowed myself to hold onto two contradictory thoughts simultaneously: She remains a vibrant, electric recordmaker and, hoo boy, sometimes her lyrics can be awfully silly when she's straining for significance. But the buoyancy and righteousness of the whole enterprise redeems its missteps, which is the deal fans have made with Monae for a while now.

4. The Internet, Hive Mind
Syd's 2017 solo album Fin was the gateway drug for me, which pays off with this mighty fine collaboration with her regular band. The funk is light and joyful but not superficial, and by the time "It Gets Better (With Time)" comes around again, I feel positively content -- an undervalued state of being during our volatile age.

5. Noname, Room 25
Fatimah Nyeema Warner is your funny, sensitive friend, and if she was the main character in a romantic comedy, she'd be the one decked out in the nerd glasses and the bad haircut who, presto, ends up being the beautiful swan at the end thanks to a makeover. Room 25 has the intimacy of a bedroom recording, but the more you listen, the bigger and bolder it becomes.

6. The 1975, A Brief History of Online Relationships
The reason why you hate this band is why I enjoy them. Being brash and dumb and young and full of yourself is one of rock's highest purposes. Matty Healy's trick is getting us to care. 

7. Low, Double Negative
A band I've long admired more than loved makes an Album For The Way We Live Today, which tend not to have the longest shelf life. (Can anybody stomach American Idiot these days?) But Double Negative's vulnerability, electronic fidgeting and bruised beauty struck an emotional chord that no other record of recent years has. I suspect it would have worked in any era -- people always have reason to be down in the mouth -- but it particularly resonates right now. 

8. Robyn, Honey
Every song delivers its payload with expert precision. I suppose this is dance music, but Honey's despondency removes the idea of getting hot and sweaty in the club around like-minded revelers. There's something too private and personal about these songs. Who'd want to share them with total strangers?  

9. Cardi B, Invasion of Privacy
She's mad you don't respect her, but she believes in herself. And she's got the tunes to back up her brags. And she's not so tough that she's afraid to be soft.

10. Neko Case, Hell-On
Still the champ, Neko Case never fully won me over with her latest until I absorbed its final track, "Pitch or Honey." It's a song about writing songs, and also a statement of purpose for a friend -- or maybe herself. Wild, she remains, still walking that road that nobody else can follow. And she keeps making distinctive albums that don't sound like her last distinctive album. That's why it takes so long sometimes to realize how great they are.