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Right now, I'm currently sitting in an airplane terminal waiting for a flight home, one that's been delayed three times thus far. This, after a week-long stay at Disney World where a sickness inevitably overcame me halfway through. Suffice to say, music hasn't exactly been on my mind this past week. Maybe that's apt for this write-up. For while a trove of songs, more than any other year, went into my ears, few had everlasting staying power. That's not to say there wasn't a plethora of enticing tracks, singles, and loosies; quite the opposite. In our current streaming age, quantity over quality reigns supreme, and while that means there's a swarm of rubbish to sift through, what gems lie in the rough are more enough to satiate an ever-growing appetite.
That can be seen all over this list, a list that grew to a sizable proportion of 150. Written here, for simplicity sake, is the top 100. But you can find, either in this Apple Music playlist or this Spotify playlist, every track that delighted my ears or dropped my jaw. Unfortunately, numerous songs are missing from both as they're not available on the respective streaming platforms. Enjoy.
Dozens Of Donuts has grown, so let's take a look back. Here is the best of 2016, 2015, and 2014.
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20
U.S. Girls - Mad As Hell
In A Poem Unlimited
Despite naming herself U.S. Girls, Meghan Remy has rarely sounded off on the political nature of her Experimental Pop. She's presented our male-dominated society as one both comforting ('Down In The Boondocks') and controversial ('Woman's Work'), our politics as chaotic ('State House (It's A Man's World)') and cozy ('The Day After 4th July'), but never has she so directly confronted the demons administering both as she does on 'Mad As Hell.' While the music video shows a rumination of past presidents, all those aging white males stoically painted with clear-cut consistency, Remy actually takes up umbrage with the one leader who stands out; Barack Obama.
Her middle finger-flipping, cold shoulder-giving, no fucks given attitude exhibits a woman fed up with a trove of empty promises, especially those directed at feminism and the search for equality. Quite a damning statement to make towards one of the more progressive American leaders in existence, and one that only increases Remy's stature and confidence throughout the elated Space Disco. That's right, Space Disco. While 'Mad As Hell's' content is sure to rile up some listeners, it's the production, and Remy's starlit vocals, that eases concerns. Here, she's still just having fun, proving that dubious content can go hand-in-hand with the catchiest of material when done right. And when you're reliving the patented shindig of ABBA and Cyndi Lauper, all bets are off.
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Her middle finger-flipping, cold shoulder-giving, no fucks given attitude exhibits a woman fed up with a trove of empty promises, especially those directed at feminism and the search for equality. Quite a damning statement to make towards one of the more progressive American leaders in existence, and one that only increases Remy's stature and confidence throughout the elated Space Disco. That's right, Space Disco. While 'Mad As Hell's' content is sure to rile up some listeners, it's the production, and Remy's starlit vocals, that eases concerns. Here, she's still just having fun, proving that dubious content can go hand-in-hand with the catchiest of material when done right. And when you're reliving the patented shindig of ABBA and Cyndi Lauper, all bets are off.
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19
Xiu Xiu - Wondering
On Forget, like many Xiu Xiu projects of years past, the band once again honored their code of conduct by morphing their two best styles, Pop and Experimental, into one. Like many great bands that came before, or since, Xiu Xiu thinks of music as a giant circle, rather than a spectrum. If it were just a line, Pop would be on one end for being ultra accessible, and Experimental would be on the other for being, well, not. Theoretically, the two oppositions should clash. And yet, when utilized properly, like on 'Wondering,' the two halves of the Xiu Xiu formula come together beautifully. Harmony lives amongst each side of the fray, pulling the halves together through stitches, woven tenderly by a group whose been at it for almost two decades.
Throughout 'Wondering,' noise is used prominently. From the screeching intro, to the crying wail of the backup vocals in the hook, to the reverb-heavy guitar. None, taken out of context, is very appealing to the average listener. And yet, within 'Wondering,' the cogs in the wheel make the potential ugliness a thing of beauty. Jamie Stewart's harrowing vocals teeter off the precipice as he contemplates past regrets, failures, "wondering maybe." As per usual, Xiu Xiu's state of being is rather grim. The conflict comes in the music's endless fight to be anything but. Ecstasy pierces the eardrums and you're left wondering, are we in a state of euphoria or total disarray? In the bloated Art Pop scene, no one in recent memory has honored that label greater than Xiu Xiu.
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Surprisingly so, 2017 was a relative resurgence for Animal Collective. Three separate projects were handed down by Avey Tare; The Painters, Meeting Of The Waters, and Eucalyptus. Now, while none appeared toe-to-toe with their 2000's material, all three, arguably, eclipsed anything they've done since Merriweather Post Pavilion (sans Panda Bear Meets The Grim Reaper). That presents promise. On each of these projects were clear standout tracks that reaffirmed AnCo's place as creative pioneers. The best of which was 'Jimmy Mack,' a cover of Martha and the Vandellas' Pop Soul single of the same name in the 1960's. The fact that it's a cover is precisely the reason for 'Jimmy Mack's' success, as it takes the AnCo formula of Psychedelic Pop and mares it to a vintage scene set.
Avey Tare's work here is unlike anything released in recent memory, suddenly snapping back into focus the tempered jubilee of Merriweather Post Pavilion's most vivacious cuts. Part of that's due to the lyrics and their glamorized conservatism, but the bulk can be attributed to the wildly energetic production. Basically, AnCo's version of 'Jimmy Mack' is what a 60's Girl Group would sound like after being teleported to our future, knowledge of Pop's evolution in tow. That's a fascinating prospect, and one that's full idealized in every bump, thrust, and bounce of the spirited ballad. Even Tare's vocals eliminate the fluff and redundancy of Painting With's era, replacing them with the knee-jerk undulation of his prime.
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Upon immediate release, Flower Boy's success as Tyler's official step into full maturity wasn't the primary topic of discussion. It was 'Garden Shed.' And only for one single admission of bisexuality. However, in my eyes, it wasn't the declaration itself that captured my attention, but the evocative emotional unspooling that came with it. 'Garden Shed's' structuring is both powerful and unusual, never aligning itself with any one formula. Frantic mood shifts and indecisiveness guide the production, a result that's especially poignant given Tyler's typical aesthetic. The carnival synths from 'IFHY' return to tip-toe around answers, like an ensemble of clowns hiding some secret behind their make-up.
Obviously, Tyler's sole verse is the show-stealer, simultaneously acting as the grand finale. 'Garden Shed' thrives by creating something that's both musically interesting and conceptually-enticing. Of course, the flower boy wouldn't be trapped in the closet, his temptations would be hidden away in the garden shed. After silently mulling over decisions, sparkling guitars acting as the backbone, Estelle's vocals the voice inside his head, Tyler finally confronts his demons with his most serious work yet. There's no joke, no sarcasm, no debauchery. On 'Garden Shed,' we finally get to see the real Tyler, a confident individual in some respects (rapping being one), but a scared and timid one in others. Namely the things he holds closest to his heart, and furthest from the public eye.
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What a world we live in where a song like 'Yeah Right' exists. Replace Vince Staples and Kendrick Lamar with the street-wise swank of Daveed Diggs, and you suddenly have a clipping. banger circa the CLPPNG era. Whether Staples, or Flume who handles much of the production, has heard clipping.'s scant percussion and harsh dissonance is unknown, but the fact of the matter is, much like how Kanye West notarized Death Grips' inhospitable Hip-Hop, Staples did much of the same. After all, both Staples and Diggs emerged from the misleading landscape of California's coast, one where the bright, shimmering sun shielded the underbelly of gangs, guns, and drugs waiting to be unearthed. 'Yeah Right' uproots that ugliness.
'Yeah Right' is evidence of the power of production, considering Staples' take on the curious banger amounts to nothing more than exposing fraudulent show-boaters using his deadpan humor. Lyrically, 'Yeah Right' brushes off copycats, something Lamar does with higher intensity on his most Electronic attempt yet, all whilst broadcasting the grittiness of their true-to-life tales. Blown out speakers, cars that rattle at a red light, apartment complexes with electrical units on the fritz. 'Yeah Right' puts the pretenders in their place, discounting their farfetched ideals while reminding them of the sordid and seedy lifestyle they endure. All while composing, through unusual and unilateral percussion, one of the more entertaining bangers of 2017.
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Every so often, arguably a few times a year, there's a song that reels me back in to music's purest state. It's why Lil Yachty's 'Wanna Be Us' reached my top five of 2016, all while being surrounded by contemporaries far more elaborate or creatively inclined. This time around it's Molly Nilsson's delightful 'About Somebody,' a track that will likely be lost to time considering it's fate as a one-off promotional single. But there's something about its stature, so sincere and down to earth, that resonates so strongly. Nilsson strips her artsy exertion, all whilst retaining the Noir-bent Synthpop that guides her aesthetic. It's not moody, nor evocative, nor stilted. 'About Somebody' lives in a stress-free environment on the brink of ultimate relational affection.
It harkens back to the lusty era of female-dominated neo-Pop by way of fashionable chic, a la 80's Madonna or Cyndi Lauper. But 'About Somebody's' far more offbeat than any of their creations, choosing to admire the Romcom sentimentality rather than conform to it. It's a song about love, for love, filled with love, that you can't help but love. The Minimal Synth beating throughout, complimented beautifully by the horn arrangement increasing in popularity thanks to M83's retrofitting 'Midnight City,' leaves 'About Somebody' in a fleeting state that's equal parts liberating as it is tangible. Throughout every line, every repeated hook, you can feel Molly Nilsson's exuberance after the realization that 'About Somebody' is an unquestionable success.
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Xiu Xiu's catalogue is vast and often incredibly inconsistent. However, as with any talented musicians, gems will often emerge in the rough. Xiu Xiu's career, to me, isn't defined by the litany of average albums, but by the gleaming beacons that stand upright within them. 'Suha,' 'Apistat Commander,' 'I Luv The Valley OH!,' 'Dear God, I Hate Myself,' and 'Falling' are just some examples. Forget's 'Get Up' can be added to that list, alongside the equally great but contrasting 'Wondering.' Whereas the latter embraces Xiu Xiu's Pop aesthetic, 'Get Up' wallows in Jamie Stewart's personal enigma. Never one to easily reveal his intentions, Stewart's lyrics may be deceiving on 'Get Up,' but in the event that they're not, the humbling track seems to be an ode to what's kept him going; music.
Stewart often accepts humor in the darkest corners of his mind, so while the three slightly altered lines of "a piano/harmonica/saxophone fell on my face" may cause a light snicker, in reality they hold serious value. Like Sisyphus' quest to accomplish what he can never achieve, an omnipresent voice tells Stewart to "get up" after each of these setbacks. And, if the dazzling climax to 'Get Up,' one of Xiu Xiu's best ever, is any indication, Stewart reached the mountaintop against all odds. However, in his quest for artistic ambiguity, darkness once again lies in success. "You are the only reason I was born" utters Stewart just as glorious noise erupts on the line, a statement that, within the context of 'Get Up' is revelatory, but without quite discouraging.
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In recent years, unquestionably correlating to the rise of memes, I've become more invested with high-quality art. That sounds like a no-brainer, the need and want to appreciate challenging works made by other humans, but in our day and age, where low-quality effort gets rewarded daily, you'd be surprised. This goes beyond just music, as with any form of entertainment I'll fanatically search for the best any respective medium has to offer. Upon first listen, the Fleet Foxes' 'Third Of May / Ĺdaigahara' was one of those works. You could tell the band that once housed current meme-maker Father John Misty poured laborious hours into crafting the nine-minute Progressive Folk epic from the ground up.
'Third Of May' is so well-composed, with a cascading array of layers that never entangle or overlap. Robin Pecknold's vocals included, as the slight manipulation, or accentuation, attached to his presence sends the transcendentalist to a higher plateau that allows 'Third Of May' to set sail for a fantastical utopia. While Fleet Foxes' entire discography leapt from the pages of an ancient folk tale, 'Third Of May' creates its own. Pecknold's poetic lyrics, that dabble in everything from spiritual thought to historical context, the group's rich and radiant sounds, and the overall progression atone to the merits of a boundless German folklore. Complete with the eulogizing epilogue known as 'Ĺdaigahara,' which incorporates picturesque ambience to counteract something so dark and gloomy.
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On Outkast's evolutionary Southern Hip-Hop opus Stankonia, there contained a song that was but 90 seconds long. There were others shorter, skits mostly, and that timestamp barely made a dent in the 78 minutes overall, but Andre 3000's incendiary tell-all on '?' has never been anything but everlasting to me. There was no time wasted, no breath left inside, no thought not disemboweled. Denzel Curry's latest EP, 13, also toyed with the concept of bated breath, treating each passing minute, all 13 of them, as if the world was about to end and the listener needed to know this. Set dead center was 'Hate Government,' the fearless, imposing, uncooperative banger that captured a riot mid-uprising. The kicker? It's but 90 seconds long.
The two breakneck bangers, '?' and 'Hate Government,' share a lot of similarities that go beyond their duration. For starters, they both showcase a master craft of time control, prompting a response immediately without giving you the option to think. On 'Hate Government,' Curry gives you 15-seconds of bass rubble and derelict noise before distressing you with the opening word "anti-American." Much like Andre 3000, Curry goes with the gut, dealing a bevy of perfectly-dealt blows concerning the state of the nation. His presence is terrifying, the type of Rap that scares old people. The production spares no expense in adding to this fright, using Kanye West's Industrial maximalism on Yeezus to its ultimate degree, pouring sludge, goop, and acid down the mouths of every aghast listener. 'Hate Government' is a 90 seconds you won't soon forget.
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6
'Star Roving' is the song I've been waiting years for. You know how five-star chefs are renowned for complimenting an exquisite cuisine with a tinge of something else? Well, that's how I've felt towards Shoegaze ever since I heard tracks like My Bloody Valentine's 'Soon,' Pale Saints' 'Sight Of You,' and Chapterhouse's 'Pearl.' They defied the norm, even of their own discography, by crafting an upbeat style that sideswiped Shoegaze's typical, despondent shoe-gazing. Essentially, it was Shoegaze gone Stadium Rock. That's exactly what 'Star Roving' is, and then some. Which, admittedly so, welcomes a fair share of criticism by fans of the critically-acclaimed genre. After all, drawing comparisons to Coldplay isn't exactly a one-way street to immeasurable praise.
Truth be told, describing 'Star Roving' as anything but a arena-filling anthem is quite difficult. The entirety of the track provides a rousing dynamism that's typically found at the climatic finale of a worldwide tour, you know, where the horde of sweating fans sing in unison as the production blaring from the speakers seems to form one, unintelligible medley. Much like how MBV's Shoegaze blessed the ugly side of Rock, 'Star Roving' embraces the ugly side of Stadium Rock. Now, of course, in classic Shoegaze form, beauty is unearthed quite immediately by extolling the whole. The thumping collection of crunchy guitars, tumultuous drums, and star-bound strings creates a sublime experience that's not soon forgotten.
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Set at the apex of Ariel Pink's most conforming album yet, Dedicated To Bobby Jameson, was the six-minute psychedelic monstrosity of 'Time To Live.' It bore no resemblance to the relatively mature offering's of Pink elsewhere, existing as a deranged time capsule for both the Hypnagogic Pop kingpin's past and his curious field of inspiration. Like a misshapen art project gone awry, 'Time To Live' molded, quite abstrusely, the styling's of Pink's early 2000's Lo-Fi tendencies with that of gravely Post-Punk and kitschy New Wave one-hit wonders. On one end, it sounds like Boston's 'More Than A Feeling,' on the other Buggles' 'Video Killed The Radio Star.' But rather than be separated, fluidly transitioned together, Pink scrambles them up, layering one over the other, all whilst merely repeating the title ad nauseam.
It's an audacious display of what happens when an artist has full control over his imagination. For a single song to sound, arguably, like three at once without shifting whatsoever is startling. On top of that, it's by far Pink's most aggressive track, with a visceral, feedback-heavy guitar and relentless drums that never cease to build atop one another, like a teetering game of Jenga. For all that to be wrapped up in a neat little, concept-abiding track, what with Pink's focus on life and death throughout Dedicated To and all, 'Time To Live' flourishes by showcasing Pink's knack for the enjoyably insane. While Pom Pom, in grand scope, defined the artist's character, 'Time To Live,' musically, defines the artist's career.
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At least once a month, sometimes more, I return to the music video for 'DNA.' More precisely, if time is of the essence, the moment where the Hip-Hop beat switch phenomenon ended. Yes, they'll be producers who try, and fail, to eclipse 2017's most legendary moment, but nothing will top the concoction Mike Will Made It crafted that sent 'DNA' into hyperdrive. Everything, from the chopped n' screwed hook, to the assertive guitar quivering at what's to come, to Geraldo Rivera comparing Hip-Hop morals to racism, to the NASA countdown signaling something massive, to Kendrick Lamar himself fiercely rapping through the switch, 'DNA's' unrelenting transition laments itself as a benchmark for expectations to come.
Enjoyment aside, of which it still stands atop the totem pole using YouTube reaction videos as evidence, the technical proficiency and complex mastercraftsmanship reestablishes the shaky Mike Will Made It as one of modern Hip-Hop's best banger-makers. All this without acknowledging Lamar's impeccable presence in everything that matters. From his tenacious flow, to his demanding presence, to his embrace of the black identity, Lamar has never opinionated himself in such a confrontational way. 'DNA' presents a world where the black community acknowledges the stereotypes forced upon them by the white rulers, turning them into powerful statements for an inevitable uprising. Kendrick Lamar, with 'DNA' disguised as a pitchfork, is the modern day Nat Turner.
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Without sounding pretentious, stuck-up, or contrarian, I struggle to relate to the vast majority of people. There's always something, whether it's one thing or dozens, that turns me away. The same applies to many musicians. Being no different than the general populace, they fall into the same traps of stereotypes, presenting a look that's not often far removed from their quirks, general beliefs, and personality traits. That's why, out of virtually every single artist I've come to know, Travis Miller, of Lil Ugly Mane fame, is the first I can truly relate to. He is an average white male. Just look at him. His private life, much like mine, remains private. His public appearance gives off no discernible clue as to the character lurking behind the skin. He does however pull back the curtain ever so slightly through his magnificent art. 'Raging Bull' is just one of many examples.
Perhaps the reason Miller seems so relatable to me is his sheer unpredictability. It's not forced like most who scene shift to shock or awe. After all, none who care for their image would kill off their most popular pseudonym in place of one entitled Bedwetter. Just like one wouldn't disclose intensely personal material only a therapist should hear. Just like one wouldn't suddenly create a blurry, schizophrenic monstrosity with euphoric bounce through an indecipherable Industrial House pretext. 'Raging Bull' is just that. A genre-exploding calamity that's extreme by Miller's own standards, finding the artist singing blithely like David Bowie about castration and the carefree nature of those in power who feed off it. Oh yeah, it's super groovy too.
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For me, any given year in recent memory, the artistic statement that would define it had come from music. It is, after all, my foremost love. Whether it was The Avalanches' Wildflower last year or Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp A Butterfly the one before that, there was always an album that elucidated the feelings of the respective year, to me, as a whole. That didn't happen this year. Instead, the greatest artistic work I had observed was that of Twin Peaks. The absurd, genre-nullifying return enraptured me from the get-go, and made every Sunday night in the summer an event. Perhaps then, that's why 'Dum Surfer' sits atop this list. The second single to King Krule's OOZ released a mere week after Twin Peaks' final episode ran its course, even though my brain hadn't yet come to terms with that.
Likely a coincidence, or possibly a well-time lure from Archy Marshall himself, 'Dum Surfer,' and the accompanying music video, bore a great deal of resemblance to, and inspiration from, Twin Peaks. From the sci-fi sirens to the ghoulish vocals to the Noir-bent production, 'Dum Surfer' primed itself as the musical equivalent to David Lynch's red room. Couple this with the beguiling music video, one that finds a posse of zombies, Marshall included, performing a medley at a dingy bar, a la The Roadhouse, and it's easy to see where King Krule's imagination arose from. For a relative newcomer to the artistic scene to understand with such mastery Lynch's undefinable nuance, and to spread it all over The OOZ, is an achievement worth commending for years.
But as with any remarkable song, 'Dum Surfer' still thrives by its own merits. Take away the Twin Peaks and you're left with a marvelous patchwork of King Krule's genre-bending style. At one moment, it's as silly-sounding as the modern day Monster Mash that it is. In another though, perhaps intertwined simultaneously, 'Dum Surfer' endures a sophisticated Art Rock renaissance, traveling through seamless passages that leaves the emotional blueprint in a rather rocky state. Whether you adore the horn arrangement at the end, one that bleeds Acid Jazz, or you can't get enough of Marshall's heavyset, British slang in the opening verse, 'Dum Surfer' never ceases on providing something new. By polishing its edges with grease, by turning laughter into freight, King Krule's masterpiece is so by never defining itself as one such thing.
Throughout 'Wondering,' noise is used prominently. From the screeching intro, to the crying wail of the backup vocals in the hook, to the reverb-heavy guitar. None, taken out of context, is very appealing to the average listener. And yet, within 'Wondering,' the cogs in the wheel make the potential ugliness a thing of beauty. Jamie Stewart's harrowing vocals teeter off the precipice as he contemplates past regrets, failures, "wondering maybe." As per usual, Xiu Xiu's state of being is rather grim. The conflict comes in the music's endless fight to be anything but. Ecstasy pierces the eardrums and you're left wondering, are we in a state of euphoria or total disarray? In the bloated Art Pop scene, no one in recent memory has honored that label greater than Xiu Xiu.
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18
of Montreal - Island Life
I could theoretically compose this entire write-up of 'Island Life' with a staggering amount of Kevin Barnes one-liners that came from the song itself. They do, after all, describe of Montreal's glam-strife vibe better than my boring old descriptions ever could. Take "fetal sex traumas without revenge are pouring execution climax of trinity maggot" as example A, "girls attack of ghetto breasts followed teenage produce wadded flames of Nazi static" as example B. Complete and utter gibberish containing words that'll incite a reaction. i.e. the Kevin Barnes way. Each phrase, told in unparalleled monotone, grows in severity like a pestering pimple just waiting to burst. The lines are grotesque, Barnes' carelessness over their delivery is too.
However, much of 'Island Life' wouldn't be what it is if not for the production that broods onwards behind him. Perhaps what makes the Rune Husk send-off so memorable is that unnatural of Montreal edge, one that lingers in the shadowy corners rather than pouncing outright, mixed with just the right amount of Barnes-isms. Nothing, at least in quite a while from the flamboyant group, has sounded this menacing, deprived, and executable. The instrumentation that sulks onwards never frets, weaves, or halts. It's just there. A dark, loud, looming cloud of grey, building in intensity until it reaches fervent climax. Sure enough, that's the final two minutes of this six-minute monstrosity, an instrumental procession with chains, whips, and a choir guiding 'Island Life' to its death.
__________________________________________________________However, much of 'Island Life' wouldn't be what it is if not for the production that broods onwards behind him. Perhaps what makes the Rune Husk send-off so memorable is that unnatural of Montreal edge, one that lingers in the shadowy corners rather than pouncing outright, mixed with just the right amount of Barnes-isms. Nothing, at least in quite a while from the flamboyant group, has sounded this menacing, deprived, and executable. The instrumentation that sulks onwards never frets, weaves, or halts. It's just there. A dark, loud, looming cloud of grey, building in intensity until it reaches fervent climax. Sure enough, that's the final two minutes of this six-minute monstrosity, an instrumental procession with chains, whips, and a choir guiding 'Island Life' to its death.
17
Gorillaz - Ascension
Flak was thrown towards Humanz like tomatoes to a stage performer, and perhaps rightfully so. On Gorillaz's fourth LP, Damon Albarn lost sight of the nuance in the cartoon band, stripping the texture in place of confrontation. Their political hellfire was there, as always, but awfully on the nose. And the features were there, as always, but increasingly overbooked. However, Humanz succeeded the most when that tangible Gorillaz touch bumped up against someone who understood their peculiar flavor. I'm talking 'Momentz' with De La Soul, 'Charger' with Grace Jones, or 'Hallelujah Money' with Benjamin Clementine. None of these instances were better than Vince Staples' instantaneous domination on the funky, racially-charged 'Ascension.'
From the get-go, when the track initially dropped alongside three other singles, it stood loftily above the rest. There's a pressing nature to Staples' words, a declaration if you will of impending doom. As Humanz' opening song, 'Ascension' worked perfectly. That was, if the album itself carried Staples' torch or Albarn's fanatical touch. The Long Beach native flaunts heavily over the various bleeps and bloops, acting as a direct descendant of Bootie Brown's work on 'Dirty Harry' or Roots Manuva's on 'All Alone.' Urgent, forthcoming, and relentless, Staples directs the electric orchestra of 'Ascension' with a flamboyant pen, recalling his soon-to-be work on Big Fish Theory when he yelps "the sky's falling baby, drop that ass 'fore it crash."
__________________________________________________________From the get-go, when the track initially dropped alongside three other singles, it stood loftily above the rest. There's a pressing nature to Staples' words, a declaration if you will of impending doom. As Humanz' opening song, 'Ascension' worked perfectly. That was, if the album itself carried Staples' torch or Albarn's fanatical touch. The Long Beach native flaunts heavily over the various bleeps and bloops, acting as a direct descendant of Bootie Brown's work on 'Dirty Harry' or Roots Manuva's on 'All Alone.' Urgent, forthcoming, and relentless, Staples directs the electric orchestra of 'Ascension' with a flamboyant pen, recalling his soon-to-be work on Big Fish Theory when he yelps "the sky's falling baby, drop that ass 'fore it crash."
16
Denzel Curry - Bloodshed
There were few moments this year more exhilarating, surprising, and wild than Denzel Curry's 'Bloodshed.' Really, the closest competition is Curry's own 'Hate Government,' the very song that follows 'Bloodshed' on 13. Combined they represent a kind of disorder and unruliness never before present in Hip-Hop. On their own, they're just as scary. Whereas 'Hate Government' begins with the vile screeching of noise, 'Bloodshed' opens with an ominous thunderstorm. It's a sign of things to come, the beacon that your next 13 minutes will be Hell, filled with crackling lightning strikes, concussive hail, and emphatic thunder. At the center is the conductor, Zeus himself, engineering the mayhem with suffocating precision.
Since Imperial, I've never once doubted Curry's rapping ability. But there, the production felt too normal for his intense stanzas. Here, noise scraps against glass windows as bass rattles the house, all in rhythmic unison. That basically comprises the entire beat, something you'd never hear on a typical Trap record that's all maximalist and no nuance. However, while the bass stuns listeners into submission, it's truly Curry's presence that overtakes 'Bloodshed' and raises it out of the hellish landscape where it was born. He is violent, intense, antagonistic, and combative, simultaneously rhyming with poignancy and wit, proving that both can exist hand-in-hand. It's been years since Hardcore Hip-Hop sounded this hardcore.
__________________________________________________________Since Imperial, I've never once doubted Curry's rapping ability. But there, the production felt too normal for his intense stanzas. Here, noise scraps against glass windows as bass rattles the house, all in rhythmic unison. That basically comprises the entire beat, something you'd never hear on a typical Trap record that's all maximalist and no nuance. However, while the bass stuns listeners into submission, it's truly Curry's presence that overtakes 'Bloodshed' and raises it out of the hellish landscape where it was born. He is violent, intense, antagonistic, and combative, simultaneously rhyming with poignancy and wit, proving that both can exist hand-in-hand. It's been years since Hardcore Hip-Hop sounded this hardcore.
15
Kelly Lee Owens - Throwing Lines
Months later and I'm still floored by the sheer expertise Kelly Lee Owens exhibited on what was only her debut album. Decisions both grand and small, all of them wise or bold, helped to create an everlasting Art Pop/Tech House crossover record that's been sorely missing in the Electronic medium. While consistency is Kelly Lee Owens' bread and butter, 'Throwing Lines' represents her cream of the crop. Atmospherically-rich, drenched in soothing harmonies, serene synths, and ambiguous lyrics, 'Throwing Lines' inundated itself with Owens' picture-perfect vibe. All this without her even making it past the chorus, simply repeating the same, delicate lines ad nauseam.
It's that combination that worked wonders though, her ability to combine the exotic world of House music, repetition and all, with the structure and rooted aesthetics of Indie music in general. Some tracks, like '8,' veered into full-blown Trance, but on 'Throwing Lines' a fuzziness existed that left genre lines blurred. Of course, Owens' sultry vocals are hypnotic, the pulsating beat progressing steadily throughout, but how removed is that all from Dream Pop? Kelly Lee Owens lives, breathes, and functions fluidly in that divide. Lush is always one of the more derivative terms to use when referring to atmospheric House, but in 'Throwing Lines'' case, it's accurate. A dance floor being overcome with weeds, vines, and overgrowth. That's what it sounds like.
It's that combination that worked wonders though, her ability to combine the exotic world of House music, repetition and all, with the structure and rooted aesthetics of Indie music in general. Some tracks, like '8,' veered into full-blown Trance, but on 'Throwing Lines' a fuzziness existed that left genre lines blurred. Of course, Owens' sultry vocals are hypnotic, the pulsating beat progressing steadily throughout, but how removed is that all from Dream Pop? Kelly Lee Owens lives, breathes, and functions fluidly in that divide. Lush is always one of the more derivative terms to use when referring to atmospheric House, but in 'Throwing Lines'' case, it's accurate. A dance floor being overcome with weeds, vines, and overgrowth. That's what it sounds like.
14
The I.L.Y.'s - I Love You Man
Bodyguard
You wouldn't know it based on their stylistic approach, but for the unaware The I.L.Y.'s are Zach Hill and Andy Morin; i.e. two-thirds of the Experimental Hip-Hop trendsetters Death Grips. Of course, with MC Ride absent, the Hip-Hop centrism would be too. However, much like their famed main project, Hill and Morin operate through a bevy of Rock genres all at once. Nowhere is that seen better, or more fruitful, than the delirious romp known as 'I Love You Man.' You could namedrop half a dozen sub-genres alone within the three-minute cut, and so I will; Psychedelic Rock, Surf Rock, Garage Rock, Noise Pop, Art Punk, Neo-Psychedelia. 'I Love You Man' doesn't switch between them, more so combines their efforts flawlessly.
Given their namesake, 'I Love You Man' could, theoretically, be seen as the band's calling card. Or at least a response to it. Separated from the lunatic that is MC Ride, Hill and Morin are able to relax the stress of pushing boundaries away. However, while they groove with a chill atmosphere that wouldn't be out of place on a beachfront, their characteristic restlessness anxiously prances throughout 'I Love You Man.' It's as if they can't escape the power of their approach, no matter how calm or loving their aim becomes. I mean hell, the chorus is the song's simple, benevolent title repeated and yet the duo swallows the joys whole with psychedelic noise. And yet, somehow, that makes 'I Love You Man' all the better.
__________________________________________________________Given their namesake, 'I Love You Man' could, theoretically, be seen as the band's calling card. Or at least a response to it. Separated from the lunatic that is MC Ride, Hill and Morin are able to relax the stress of pushing boundaries away. However, while they groove with a chill atmosphere that wouldn't be out of place on a beachfront, their characteristic restlessness anxiously prances throughout 'I Love You Man.' It's as if they can't escape the power of their approach, no matter how calm or loving their aim becomes. I mean hell, the chorus is the song's simple, benevolent title repeated and yet the duo swallows the joys whole with psychedelic noise. And yet, somehow, that makes 'I Love You Man' all the better.
13
Animal Collective - Jimmy Mack
Avey Tare's work here is unlike anything released in recent memory, suddenly snapping back into focus the tempered jubilee of Merriweather Post Pavilion's most vivacious cuts. Part of that's due to the lyrics and their glamorized conservatism, but the bulk can be attributed to the wildly energetic production. Basically, AnCo's version of 'Jimmy Mack' is what a 60's Girl Group would sound like after being teleported to our future, knowledge of Pop's evolution in tow. That's a fascinating prospect, and one that's full idealized in every bump, thrust, and bounce of the spirited ballad. Even Tare's vocals eliminate the fluff and redundancy of Painting With's era, replacing them with the knee-jerk undulation of his prime.
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12
Tyler, The Creator - Garden Shed
Obviously, Tyler's sole verse is the show-stealer, simultaneously acting as the grand finale. 'Garden Shed' thrives by creating something that's both musically interesting and conceptually-enticing. Of course, the flower boy wouldn't be trapped in the closet, his temptations would be hidden away in the garden shed. After silently mulling over decisions, sparkling guitars acting as the backbone, Estelle's vocals the voice inside his head, Tyler finally confronts his demons with his most serious work yet. There's no joke, no sarcasm, no debauchery. On 'Garden Shed,' we finally get to see the real Tyler, a confident individual in some respects (rapping being one), but a scared and timid one in others. Namely the things he holds closest to his heart, and furthest from the public eye.
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11
Vince Staples - Yeah Right
'Yeah Right' is evidence of the power of production, considering Staples' take on the curious banger amounts to nothing more than exposing fraudulent show-boaters using his deadpan humor. Lyrically, 'Yeah Right' brushes off copycats, something Lamar does with higher intensity on his most Electronic attempt yet, all whilst broadcasting the grittiness of their true-to-life tales. Blown out speakers, cars that rattle at a red light, apartment complexes with electrical units on the fritz. 'Yeah Right' puts the pretenders in their place, discounting their farfetched ideals while reminding them of the sordid and seedy lifestyle they endure. All while composing, through unusual and unilateral percussion, one of the more entertaining bangers of 2017.
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10
Molly Nilsson - About Somebody
Single
It harkens back to the lusty era of female-dominated neo-Pop by way of fashionable chic, a la 80's Madonna or Cyndi Lauper. But 'About Somebody's' far more offbeat than any of their creations, choosing to admire the Romcom sentimentality rather than conform to it. It's a song about love, for love, filled with love, that you can't help but love. The Minimal Synth beating throughout, complimented beautifully by the horn arrangement increasing in popularity thanks to M83's retrofitting 'Midnight City,' leaves 'About Somebody' in a fleeting state that's equal parts liberating as it is tangible. Throughout every line, every repeated hook, you can feel Molly Nilsson's exuberance after the realization that 'About Somebody' is an unquestionable success.
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9
Xiu Xiu - Get Up
Stewart often accepts humor in the darkest corners of his mind, so while the three slightly altered lines of "a piano/harmonica/saxophone fell on my face" may cause a light snicker, in reality they hold serious value. Like Sisyphus' quest to accomplish what he can never achieve, an omnipresent voice tells Stewart to "get up" after each of these setbacks. And, if the dazzling climax to 'Get Up,' one of Xiu Xiu's best ever, is any indication, Stewart reached the mountaintop against all odds. However, in his quest for artistic ambiguity, darkness once again lies in success. "You are the only reason I was born" utters Stewart just as glorious noise erupts on the line, a statement that, within the context of 'Get Up' is revelatory, but without quite discouraging.
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8
Fleet Foxes - Third Of May / Ĺdaigahara
'Third Of May' is so well-composed, with a cascading array of layers that never entangle or overlap. Robin Pecknold's vocals included, as the slight manipulation, or accentuation, attached to his presence sends the transcendentalist to a higher plateau that allows 'Third Of May' to set sail for a fantastical utopia. While Fleet Foxes' entire discography leapt from the pages of an ancient folk tale, 'Third Of May' creates its own. Pecknold's poetic lyrics, that dabble in everything from spiritual thought to historical context, the group's rich and radiant sounds, and the overall progression atone to the merits of a boundless German folklore. Complete with the eulogizing epilogue known as 'Ĺdaigahara,' which incorporates picturesque ambience to counteract something so dark and gloomy.
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7
Denzel Curry - Hate Government
The two breakneck bangers, '?' and 'Hate Government,' share a lot of similarities that go beyond their duration. For starters, they both showcase a master craft of time control, prompting a response immediately without giving you the option to think. On 'Hate Government,' Curry gives you 15-seconds of bass rubble and derelict noise before distressing you with the opening word "anti-American." Much like Andre 3000, Curry goes with the gut, dealing a bevy of perfectly-dealt blows concerning the state of the nation. His presence is terrifying, the type of Rap that scares old people. The production spares no expense in adding to this fright, using Kanye West's Industrial maximalism on Yeezus to its ultimate degree, pouring sludge, goop, and acid down the mouths of every aghast listener. 'Hate Government' is a 90 seconds you won't soon forget.
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Truth be told, describing 'Star Roving' as anything but a arena-filling anthem is quite difficult. The entirety of the track provides a rousing dynamism that's typically found at the climatic finale of a worldwide tour, you know, where the horde of sweating fans sing in unison as the production blaring from the speakers seems to form one, unintelligible medley. Much like how MBV's Shoegaze blessed the ugly side of Rock, 'Star Roving' embraces the ugly side of Stadium Rock. Now, of course, in classic Shoegaze form, beauty is unearthed quite immediately by extolling the whole. The thumping collection of crunchy guitars, tumultuous drums, and star-bound strings creates a sublime experience that's not soon forgotten.
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5
Ariel Pink - Time To Live
It's an audacious display of what happens when an artist has full control over his imagination. For a single song to sound, arguably, like three at once without shifting whatsoever is startling. On top of that, it's by far Pink's most aggressive track, with a visceral, feedback-heavy guitar and relentless drums that never cease to build atop one another, like a teetering game of Jenga. For all that to be wrapped up in a neat little, concept-abiding track, what with Pink's focus on life and death throughout Dedicated To and all, 'Time To Live' flourishes by showcasing Pink's knack for the enjoyably insane. While Pom Pom, in grand scope, defined the artist's character, 'Time To Live,' musically, defines the artist's career.
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4
Kendrick Lamar - DNA.
Enjoyment aside, of which it still stands atop the totem pole using YouTube reaction videos as evidence, the technical proficiency and complex mastercraftsmanship reestablishes the shaky Mike Will Made It as one of modern Hip-Hop's best banger-makers. All this without acknowledging Lamar's impeccable presence in everything that matters. From his tenacious flow, to his demanding presence, to his embrace of the black identity, Lamar has never opinionated himself in such a confrontational way. 'DNA' presents a world where the black community acknowledges the stereotypes forced upon them by the white rulers, turning them into powerful statements for an inevitable uprising. Kendrick Lamar, with 'DNA' disguised as a pitchfork, is the modern day Nat Turner.
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3
Bedwetter - Raging Bull
Single
Perhaps the reason Miller seems so relatable to me is his sheer unpredictability. It's not forced like most who scene shift to shock or awe. After all, none who care for their image would kill off their most popular pseudonym in place of one entitled Bedwetter. Just like one wouldn't disclose intensely personal material only a therapist should hear. Just like one wouldn't suddenly create a blurry, schizophrenic monstrosity with euphoric bounce through an indecipherable Industrial House pretext. 'Raging Bull' is just that. A genre-exploding calamity that's extreme by Miller's own standards, finding the artist singing blithely like David Bowie about castration and the carefree nature of those in power who feed off it. Oh yeah, it's super groovy too.
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2
LCD Soundsystem - How Do You Sleep?
James Murphy has always had a way with moralizing the innate ways of life through elaborate, Dance-oriented epics. His greatest works, 'Someone Great' and 'All My Friends,' do exactly that. They treat internal moral dilemmas that each individual endures, whether it be death, birth, or the loss of companionship, and provides an infinitely groovy backbone that surges with the unifying sigh of a million listeners coming to terms with the fact that it will all be alright. 'How Do You Sleep?' kinda does that. You know, except for the pleasantries, something that was found all over American Dream. It is dark and menacing, faced with the rejection and slander of a once close friend backstabbing for personal gain.
The nine-minute mammoth starts with a rumble of jungle percussion, like a tribe providing a nighttime ritual of sacrifice, only to intensify the feelings of dread and discomfort with striking synths that harken back to The Knife's experimental Shaking The Habitual and a blistering wave of instrumentation catching Murphy in its web. The singer, singing across a vast sea, heeds a mental breakdown, yelling out indirect, unclear insults. Quipping about the past with the future looming in the foreground. Shivering violins play fiddle with his heartstrings, as the heart pounds harmfully along. It is, again, a moment in time we've all experienced. A breakdown caused by the wrongdoing of someone trusted. Never has Murphy wrote music that was stylish and in-step. But, as we see on 'How Do You Sleep?,' LCD Soundsystem does a masterful job at rising that emotion, that uneasiness, that apprehension, to a tangible level for all to feel.
The nine-minute mammoth starts with a rumble of jungle percussion, like a tribe providing a nighttime ritual of sacrifice, only to intensify the feelings of dread and discomfort with striking synths that harken back to The Knife's experimental Shaking The Habitual and a blistering wave of instrumentation catching Murphy in its web. The singer, singing across a vast sea, heeds a mental breakdown, yelling out indirect, unclear insults. Quipping about the past with the future looming in the foreground. Shivering violins play fiddle with his heartstrings, as the heart pounds harmfully along. It is, again, a moment in time we've all experienced. A breakdown caused by the wrongdoing of someone trusted. Never has Murphy wrote music that was stylish and in-step. But, as we see on 'How Do You Sleep?,' LCD Soundsystem does a masterful job at rising that emotion, that uneasiness, that apprehension, to a tangible level for all to feel.
1
King Krule - Dum Surfer
For me, any given year in recent memory, the artistic statement that would define it had come from music. It is, after all, my foremost love. Whether it was The Avalanches' Wildflower last year or Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp A Butterfly the one before that, there was always an album that elucidated the feelings of the respective year, to me, as a whole. That didn't happen this year. Instead, the greatest artistic work I had observed was that of Twin Peaks. The absurd, genre-nullifying return enraptured me from the get-go, and made every Sunday night in the summer an event. Perhaps then, that's why 'Dum Surfer' sits atop this list. The second single to King Krule's OOZ released a mere week after Twin Peaks' final episode ran its course, even though my brain hadn't yet come to terms with that.
Likely a coincidence, or possibly a well-time lure from Archy Marshall himself, 'Dum Surfer,' and the accompanying music video, bore a great deal of resemblance to, and inspiration from, Twin Peaks. From the sci-fi sirens to the ghoulish vocals to the Noir-bent production, 'Dum Surfer' primed itself as the musical equivalent to David Lynch's red room. Couple this with the beguiling music video, one that finds a posse of zombies, Marshall included, performing a medley at a dingy bar, a la The Roadhouse, and it's easy to see where King Krule's imagination arose from. For a relative newcomer to the artistic scene to understand with such mastery Lynch's undefinable nuance, and to spread it all over The OOZ, is an achievement worth commending for years.
But as with any remarkable song, 'Dum Surfer' still thrives by its own merits. Take away the Twin Peaks and you're left with a marvelous patchwork of King Krule's genre-bending style. At one moment, it's as silly-sounding as the modern day Monster Mash that it is. In another though, perhaps intertwined simultaneously, 'Dum Surfer' endures a sophisticated Art Rock renaissance, traveling through seamless passages that leaves the emotional blueprint in a rather rocky state. Whether you adore the horn arrangement at the end, one that bleeds Acid Jazz, or you can't get enough of Marshall's heavyset, British slang in the opening verse, 'Dum Surfer' never ceases on providing something new. By polishing its edges with grease, by turning laughter into freight, King Krule's masterpiece is so by never defining itself as one such thing.
100-51 | 50-21 | Top 50 Albums
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