“Shortly After Takeoff”. By BC Camplight
Brian Christinzio, an American songwriter, wanted to write a road song. The problem was that in 2012 he had moved to Manchester in the north-west of England, a city which did not lend itself to Springsteen-esque anthems. So he wrote “Born to Cruise” instead, a four-on-the-floor drivetime banger that opened: “I’ve had my indicator on since leaving Crewe/That explains the gestures in my rearview.” “Shortly After Takeoff”, on which the track appears, is both desperately sad and unbearably funny.
“Future Nostalgia”. By Dua Lipa
Poor Dua Lipa released the year’s best pure pop album just as the entire world shut down. This record should have been accompanied by glittery arena shows and TV appearances; instead, it got the kind of lengthy po-faced think-pieces that misunderstood what the album delivered to its listeners—a jolt of fun. Listening to “Future Nostalgia” was like swallowing a whole bag of popping candy, a series of brilliant little explosions.
“Fetch the Bolt Cutters”. By Fiona Apple
“I would beg to disagree,” sang Fiona Apple on the year’s most daring major label release, “but begging disagrees with me.” There was no begging favour at all on “Fetch the Bolt Cutters”, an album the listener had to embrace on its own terms or not at all. It was heavily percussive, often furious, but it had a sensual, jazzy swing, too. Its power will accumulate with the years.
“Bloem”. By Fluisteraars
Counter-intuitive though it may seem, it is artists working within the genre known as “black metal”—originated by Norwegians who burned churches and killed each other—who are making much of the most melodic heavy music of the moment. The third album by the Dutch band Fluisteraars had the aggression and bite of the most combative metal, but also an overwhelming melancholy. Those who pay no attention to metal tend not to realise that it can be beautiful, but with “Bloem”, particularly “Vlek”, Fluisteraas produced something that was both gorgeous and thrilling.
“Strange Lights Over Garth Mountain”. By Gwenifer Raymond
In 2018 Gwenifer Raymond’s “You Never Were Much of a Dancer” was an auspicious debut: the young British multi-instrumentalist seemed possessed of the spirit of John Fahey, an “American primitive” guitarist. The tracks on “Strange Lights Over Garth Mountain”, this year’s follow-up, stretched out, allowing her beautifully deft and expressive playing more time to breathe, as well as greater exploration of the musical themes, now no longer tied to America. A bit of a triumph.
“Women in Music Pt. III”. By Haim
If there had sometimes been a slight suspicion among music critics that Haim were a better idea—three sisters audibly in thrall to both Fleetwood Mac and R’n’B—than an actual group, that was banished on “Women in Music Pt. III”, which sounded both effortless and cleverly put together. Even dropping a cod-reggae break into the chorus of “Los Angeles” managed to be cheery rather than cringeworthy. It was such a terrific album that Haim could afford to toss away the brilliant single “Summer Girl” as a bonus track.
“Oh Baby, Don’t Give Me That Look”. By The Replacements
Earlier this year, this unofficial oddity popped up on Spotify: a fantastic recording of the final show by one of the greatest and most chaotic American rock’n’roll bands, The Replacements, in front of 60,000 people at a festival in 1991. It is extraordinary. From a brilliant opening the band audibly falls apart over the course of an hour. It embodies both why they were so loved and why big-time success never came to them. “Here’s another one you don’t wanna hear,” says singer Paul Westerberg halfway through, “and frankly, neither do I.” Complement “Oh Baby, Don’t Give Me That Look” with the official, expanded reissue of their album “Pleased To Meet Me” (1987).
“RTJ4”. By Run the Jewels
El-P and Killer Mike were inspired by the tumult of 2020: Run the Jewels’ fourth album was livid. “Ooh La La” was woozy and distorted, as if the music itself had been sickened by the state of the world. On “Walking in the Snow” the rappers took aim not just at a racist state but at a public complicit in that racism: “You so numb you watch the cops choke out a man like me/Until my voice goes from a shriek to whisper—‘I can’t breathe’/And you sit there in the house on couch and watch it on TV.” It was brutal and necessary.
“The Sharecropper’s Daughter”. By Sa-Roc
Those who find the relentlessness of some contemporary hip-hop a little wearing should investigate Sa-Roc, the moniker of Assata Perkins. “The Sharecropper’s Daughter” was assertive without being aggressive, and the production by Sol-Messiah was completely sympathetic, its softness offsetting Sa-Roc’s delivery perfectly. She didn’t make the headlines, but this album was a quiet marvel.
“Untitled (Black Is)”. By Sault
It could as well have been “Untitled (Rise)”, Sault’s other release in 2020, on this list, because the quality was consistent across both albums. Was “Untitled (Black Is)” electronic music? Was it disco? Was it trip-hop? In truth it was a little of all those things, but inventively tackled and beautifully put together, the result of fantastic songwriting rather than studio trickery. You could, if you so wished, take it as dinner-party background music, but there was intensity beneath the smoothness.
“Color Theory”. By Soccer Mommy
For the old-school indie types, the second album by Sophie Allison (pictured) was a balm. Oh, those gorgeous, swooning guitar lines! The hazy organ on “Yellow Is the Colour of Her Eyes”! And Ms Allison’s voice, calm and affectless in the approved indie manner! Indie rock no longer dominates the critical conversation, which means it’s easy to forget that brilliant indie records are still being made. “Color Theory” was one of them.
“Letter To You”. By Bruce Springsteen
Like a superhero summoned to save the city, Bruce Springsteen saw the pandemic and a divided America and decided only the E Street Band could help. But even as he promised listeners to “go where the music never ends” on “House of a Thousand Guitars”, he was offering one of the saddest melodies of his career. It will never again be 1978, and the knee slides are a thing of the past, but has there ever been a star with the sheer goodness of The Boss?
“Starting Over”. By Chris Stapleton
The stranglehold of country radio has forced many Nashville artists to adopt a template that Hank Williams would scarcely recognise: all rock guitars, electronic beats and razzmatazz. Yet Chris Stapleton continues to be one of the few musicians with star status to keep in touch with the lonesome sound of old (see also Jason Isbell and the brilliant Margo Price, who both released albums in 2020). “Starting Over” wasn’t a radical record, but it displayed evident craftsmanship and on “Nashville, TN” he gently reminded the country establishment that not everyone was happy with the state of its music: “So long, Nashville, Tennessee/You can’t have what’s left of me.”
“Hold Fast”. By Stick in the Wheel
Every so often, some artist is held to have reinvented English folk music, which usually means they’ve added some electric instruments. “Stick in the Wheel”, a duo from east London, have a better claim than most. Most of the songs were credited to Trad Arr—short for “Traditional, Arranged By”—with the arrangement as important to the record’s feel as the traditional elements. Their version of folk remembered that the city as well as the countryside has its folk history.
“Folklore”. By Taylor Swift
For a surprise release, Taylor Swift made a surprising musical about-face, marching swiftly away from the R’n’B-flavoured pop of her last couple of albums into a modern form of Americana that is built as much on gauzy electronica as on acoustic guitars. Plainly, her collaborators—notably Aaron Dessner of The National—were instrumental to this new sound, but this was Ms Swift’s show. Her lyric writing, especially on “The Last Great American Dynasty”, was better than ever, and it was surely she who made sure these were sturdy, memorable songs rather than simply pieces of atmosphere.
By M.H. /The Economist
