20.
St. Vincent, ‘St. Vincent,’ 2014
St. Vincent’s self-titled album marks a significant shift from Annie Clark’s earlier works, showcasing her evolution from a dexterous multi-instrumentalist into a visionary auteur. At its core, St. Vincent reflects Clark’s desire to critique modern life, particularly through the lens of media and technology. The album scrutinizes the complexities of human emotions in an increasingly digital world, and such a critique is woven throughout the album in a cleverly ironic and often playful manner. This is evident in tracks like Digital Witness, which critiques society’s obsession with technology and surveillance culture. Clark sings, “What’s the point of even sleeping? If I can’t show it, you can’t see me,” highlighting the invasive nature of modern technology while questioning the necessity of being constantly connected. Throughout the album, Clark employs a range of characters, scenarios, and imageries to dissect societal norms and personal identity, exploring themes of control and relinquishment. Tracks like Birth in Reverse and Huey Newton meld autobiographical elements with broader social commentary, inviting listeners to ponder the relationship between the self and a rapidly changing world. In Rattlesnake, Clark captures a sense of isolation and danger with lines that transport the listener to a desolate, almost dystopian setting. The song’s chorus is emblematic of her lyrical style—distinctive and evocative, yet open to interpretation.
The composition on St. Vincent is an eclectic melange, drawing from an array of genres that includes art-rock, soul, and electronica. The album’s production is notably clean and precise, yet retains a raw energy that infuses each track with vibrancy and life. Clark’s use of tightly compacted structures contrasts with the album’s vast thematic concerns, creating an intriguing sonic tension that captivates the audience. Her guitar work shines with its distinctive use of distortion and intricate arrangements, complemented by bold synth textures and a robust rhythm section. Tracks like Rattlesnake exemplify Clark’s knack for crafting compelling musical structures. The song’s minimalist, electronic beat builds into a frenetic cascade of sounds, mirroring the urgency of its lyrics. In contrast, Huey Newton shifts from a languid, synth-laden beginning to an intense, grunge-inflected, guitar-driven climax, demonstrating Clark’s versatility and dynamic range. The rubbery percussion and synthetic sheen in Digital Witness showcase St. Vincent’s ability to integrate funk influences with contemporary art-rock, resulting in a playful production that characterizes the album. This blend of musical styles is indicative of Clark’s innovative approach to composition, showcasing her willingness to transcend traditional genre boundaries.
19.
Weyes Blood, ‘Titanic Rising,’ 2019
Treat me right
I’m still a good man’s daughter
Let me in if I break
And be quiet if I shatter
Weyes Blood’s fourth studio album, Titanic Rising, is an evocative tapestry of 1970s FM radio influences, blending elements of baroque pop and soft rock with atmospheric songwriting and cinematic production. Conceptually, Titanic Rising operates as a meditation on the intertwining forces of love, climate change, and existential dread, amidst a backdrop of lush orchestration. The album’s title and its iconic cover art—a childhood bedroom submerged underwater—serve as poignant metaphors for the vulnerabilities and uncertainties of our times. The album’s title itself is revelatory, drawing connections to both the historic RMS Titanic and the famed 1997 film, each representing stories of grandeur and catastrophe. Natalie Mering draws upon the historical imagery of the Titanic to underscore the absurdities and ironies of modern life, particularly in relation to ecological catastrophe and the elusive search for genuine human connection. Mering’s lyrics maintain a sober yet hopeful outlook, fluctuating between the beauty of optimism and the weight of reality. The album opens with A Lot’s Gonna Change, where Mering yearns for the innocence of childhood, a simpler time unburdened by the harsh realities of adulthood. Tracks like Andromeda and Everyday explore the romantic longing and the complexity of modern love. In Andromeda, Mering uses cosmic metaphors to depict the pursuit of love amid distractions—a theme that captures both the beauty and futility of human aspirations. Something to Believe expresses a cry for something tangible in a world mired by inner voices, demanding a belief system that can truly resonate beyond personal and mundane adversities. In contrast, Mirror Forever deals with relational disillusionment, where the notion of romantic love becomes a reflection of solitude and self-worth.
Titanic Rising is an ambitious fusion of soft rock and baroque pop, with inspirations drawn from 1970s FM radio sounds akin to Joni Mitchell and The Carpenters. Mering’s songwriting is a confluence of sophisticated self-harmonization and lush orchestral arrangements reminiscent of the Golden Age of Hollywood cinema. This is evident in tracks like Everyday, which echoes The Beatles with upbeat rhythms and storytelling lyrics, starkly contrasting the otherwise introspective mood of the album. Mering’s approach integrates classic orchestral elements, layering strings, and harmonies to produce a cinematic grandeur, and the use of analog techniques and expansive sounds provides a nostalgic yet novel auditory experience that juxtaposes with existential dread. The involvement of instrumental interludes and layered sounds that mimic natural elements, such as running water and gentle winds, enhances the album’s atmospheric quality. Titanic Rising is Weyes Blood’s manifesto on the melancholy of lost innocence and the quest for love with a grand; a grand, sentimental ode to living and loving in the shadow of doom.
Nobody’s gonna love you the same way
Some of us go astray, I walked so far from them all
Instead of dropping the ball, I seem to carry so many
The colors don’t align, a question of time
I seem to lose what I find
Please give me a sign soon
Really wanna find out the truth
And at night
18.
Frank Ocean, ‘channel ORANGE,’ 2012
The best song wasn’t the single
But you couldn’t turn your radio down
Satellite need a receiver, can’t seem to turn the signal fully off
Transmitting the waves
You’re catching that breeze ’til you’re dead in the grave
With his studio album debut, channel ORANGE, Frank Ocean has quickly proven himself to be among the most gifted singer-songwriters of his generation; he’s got the type of voice, wit, charm, smarts, and ineffable humanity that’s always hoped for, but never promised. The title channel ORANGE encapsulates the album’s conceptual core, likened to channel-surfing on television where each track unveils a distinct narrative or character. This metaphorical channel-surfing through stories and emotions creates a rich tapestry that Ocean weaves with precision. The choice of the color orange in the title is symbolic, as it resonates with the warmth of optimism juxtaposed with the bitterness of disillusionment, reflecting the duality of human experiences explored throughout the album. The thematic scope of Channel Orange traverses through love, longing, social status, consumerism, and personal introspection. Notably, it addresses Ocean’s first true love during a summer at the age of 19 with a poetic tenderness and candid disclosure, injecting a personal authenticity into the album’s emotional landscape. On the record’s most harrowing cut, Bad Religion, Ocean is crippled by unrequited love and left searching for life’s answers in the back of a cab– the string-bleeding ballad finds the singer offering his most impassioned plea yet. Ocean’s songwriting often employs surrealistic imagery, conversational dialogue, and descriptive narratives to portray dark and complex characters. Pyramids, one of the album’s opuses, traverses through time, from ancient Egypt to modern city strip clubs, in an exploration of womanhood and commodification, revealing Ocean’s flair for storytelling through layered, almost cinematic songwriting. In Crack Rock, Ocean explores the life of a drug addict in rural America, showcasing his ability to transform individual stories into broader commentaries on societal issues.
channel ORANGE is distinctive for its eclectic mix of styles, incorporating electro-funk, pop-soul, jazz-funk, and psychedelia, creating a sonic palette that is both retro and futuristic. The album shuns traditionalist R&B norms, resulting in a richly textured and unconventional soundscape. Compared with Ocean’s preceding mixtape, Nostalgia, Ultra, channel ORANGE album is its retaining of the uneven feel of a mixtape, not hewing to the expected demands of a debut album. In line with both his increasing artistic proficiency, Ocean focuses less on sampling than calling up classic modes himself, like the Stevie Wonder impression that fills the brief length of the 40-second Fertilizer. Forrest Gump achieves a similar effect, as Ocean combines an aching doo-wop guitar line and humming organ with a schlocky pickup line, suffusing the entire thing with an indisputable soul.
This unrequited love
To me, it’s nothin’ but a one-man cult
And cyanide in my styrofoam cup
I can never make him love me
17.
Rihanna, ‘ANTI,’ 2016
ANTI, Rihanna’s last studio album, marks a distinct departure from her previous rousing pop anthems and redefines her sound while maintaining her signature bold attitude. The album’s concept is encapsulated in its title: the term “anti” symbolizes opposition and rebellion, reflecting Rihanna’s desire to buck mainstream expectations and her past musical formula. Thematically, the album delves into complex emotions such as endearment, desire, heartbreak, and empowerment. Throughout ANTI, Rihanna examines themes of independence and self-awareness, projecting an unfiltered and assertive persona. The album’s cover art features a young Rihanna with a crown obscuring her eyes, which implies both power and the blindness that can accompany success, underscored by Braille’s poetry that addresses being misunderstood despite being powerful. In the album opener, Consideration, featuring SZA, Rihanna declares her intent to break away from expectations with lyrics like “I got to do things my own way, darling,” a sentiment that sets the stage for the entire album. The track Love on the Brain, showcases a retro-leaning doo-wop influence, with lyrics that juxtapose romantic yearning with raw, emotional turmoil. The track paints love as both an uplifting and a destructive force, highlighted by lines such as “It beats me black and blue, but it fucks me so good.” In Needed Me, she confronts the exhaustion of love and celebrity, portraying a persona both vulnerable and defiant. Rihanna’s cover of Tame Impala’s New Person, Same Old Mistakes, reimagined as Same Ol’ Mistakes, further exemplifies this exploratory nature. Here, she adopts a reflective stance, acknowledging past errors while embracing personal growth.
ANTI is an amalgam of genres, embracing everything from pop and R&B to psychedelic soul and doo-wop. The album holds a unique position within Rihanna’s discography, marking a turn toward artistic maturity and embracing a more album-oriented focus rather than producing standalone hits. It contrasts sharply with her previous work, such as 2012’s Unapologetic, which contained high-energy hits tailored for radio play. ANTI doesn’t conform to the traditional expectations of pop music, instead offering a more nuanced and self-directed body of work. The album is not crammed with bloodthirsty, dance-oriented jams and feels distinctly smaller, and more inward-facing than her previous records. The first half of the album is more bass-heavy, featuring tracks like Woo, with its aggressive tone, vocal distortion, and gritty production by Travis Scott, highlighting the album’s experimental ethos. In contrast, the second half adopts a minimalist approach, with tracks such as Close to You focusing on stripped-down arrangements that spotlight Rihanna’s vocal prowess.
16.
Kacey Musgraves, ‘Golden Hour,’ 2017
Running like a river tryna find the ocean
Flowers in the concrete
Climbing over fences, blooming in the shadows
Places that you can’t see
Coming through the melody when the night bird sings
Love is a wild thing
Embarking into what Kacey Musgraves describes as “cosmic country,” her third studio album Golden Hour marks a significant departure from her previous works and traditional country music, blending elements of folk, pop, and even disco to create a genre-defying sound. Golden Hour draws its name from both a literal and metaphorical inspiration. The term “golden hour” refers to that fleeting time just before sunset when the world is bathed in a warm, ethereal glow, mirroring Musgraves’ sense of contentment and peace following her marriage to fellow musician Ruston Kelly. This is a project rooted in love, gratitude, and a renewed perspective on life. Musgraves transforms conventional themes of country music by focusing on positivity and self-awareness, crafting a narrative that emphasizes living in the moment and appreciating simple joys. Slow Burn sets the tone with its contemplative pace, suggesting a patient appreciation of life’s unfolding moments. Songs like Butterflies express the exhilaration of new love, while in Wonder Woman, she confronts a partner’s unrealistic expectations and gives a simple counter: “All I need’s a place to land.” Mother, one of the album’s brief yet sentimental pieces, describes Musgraves’ experience of missing her mother with introspection and tender reflection. Golden Hour is ultimately a celebration of the transformative power of love and the beauty of the present.
Musgraves’ songwriting exhibits maturity and depth as it departs from the straightforwardly confessional style of her earlier albums. The lyrics balance simplicity with imagery and profound insights, capturing the complex spectrum of human emotions with elegance. Golden Hour is a rich blend of traditional country instruments—like banjo and pedal steel—with contemporary sounds, including synth-pop and even disco influences. This genre-blending approach is evident in tracks like High Horse, where Musgraves pairs country storytelling with a danceable disco beat, resulting in a track that is both novel and nostalgically appealing. On Golden Hour, everything sprawls and swells and gushes, a gaping sky that makes the sonic landscapes of her previous albums feel like mere set dressing. As with so many great singers, it’s not just the words that Musgraves sings that make her songs work; it’s how she sings them. Musgraves’ voice isn’t showy, though she can certainly show off with it when she wants to. It’s sharp, conversational, and with a deep and satisfying Texan twang to it. It’s just a tiny bit weathered, and that heaviness lends a soulful resonance. Musgraves could pull a full Taylor Swift and go all the way pop in a couple of albums, and her music would still sound at least a little bit country because it’s ingrained in that voice.
So you can have your space, cowboy
I ain’t gonna fence you in
Go on, ride away in your Silverado
I’ll see you around again
‘Cause I know my place, and it ain’t with you
Sunsets fade, and love does, too
We had our day in the sun
When a horse wants to run, ain’t no sense in closing the gate
So you can have your space