The Greatest Albums of 2019

Join me for a genre-hopping glimpse into the best music of 2019. Jazz, metal, hip hop, country, soul and indie rock are all on offer in my top 10, so you’re bound to come up with that speaks to you.

Against my better judgment, I’m undertaking a project to determine my top 10 albums of every year since 1991.  Instead of just picking my favorite stuff out of my collection, I intend to explore, re-visit and discover.  While I can’t promise to leave no stone un-turned, I am going to go deeper than I ever have before.  Why would I partake in a journey that will inevitably take many years and that I ultimately may never finish?  Most importantly, to uncover great music that I’ve never heard before.  Second, to boost my knowledge of music history and get a sense of what was happening at a macro scale in a snapshot of time.  Finally, I want to share my passion for music with you and, fingers crossed, generate a dialogue down in the comments.  So without further ado, here is #25 in the series. My random number generator says that our next year to tackle will be 1977.

Check out my previous entries here.

The Greatest Albums of 2019

The more recently a year has ended, the harder it is to review. No matter how much preparation I put into it, I will inevitably not be able to hear everything of interest, and my sentiments are still incredibly fluid when the post is written in such close proximity to the year in question. Every single post I make is a snapshot of my opinion at a point in time, with imperfect information to go by. Take 2012, which I wrote about a couple of years ago. If I were going to re-write that post today, Gojira’s L’enfant Sauvage would definitely be in my top ten. As it stands, that album isn’t even in my honorable mentions for that year, and it isn’t because I just found out about Gojira. In all likelihood, I listened to a couple of tracks during my research, and for whatever reason it just wasn’t doing it for me that day. That is bound to happen all the time, and usually for albums that I don’t have the good fortune of re-discovering. Now, coming across as ignorant about the French progressive death metal scene of 2012 is hardly the worst fate to befall someone on the internet, but it still irks me to some extent. For as much as you can debate the inherent value of a project like this, it does take more work than I’m comfortable admitting. I would like it to be a pristine encapsulation of, if nothing else, my opinions about music. The fact that such a thing is not achievable, that my opinion will change and I’ll continue along a journey of musical discovery and critical re-evaluation for the rest of my life, is both difficult to swallow and oddly reassuring. Because as much as it’s a bummer that each of these painstakingly compiled lists is bound to be stale as soon as I post them, it would be even more of a bummer to make it to the end of this project and realize that I don’t have anything new to learn about the music of the past. So in lieu of some grand thesis about the state of the art form at the end of the decade, allow me to present to you some thoughts about the music I liked last year, imperfect, incomplete, and probably out of date. If you uncover something you end up enjoying as much as I do, it will have been worth both of our time.

     1. Bandana – Freddie Gibbs & Madlib

The most evergreen topic in hip hop, aside from who is the best rapper, is who is the best drug dealer. For every rock album that celebrates drug use or examines the negative impact it has had on the artist, there is a rap album that addresses the supply side. On one level that makes sense. The social and economic factors that inspired Biggie to rap “either you’re slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot” have certainly not gone away in the intervening three decades. What’s curious to me is why, as consumers, we haven’t just gotten bored with it? I’ll confess that I have little patience for legacy artists like Jay Z and Ghostface still pretending like they are running drug empires. Once you get past 20 million records sold, my suspension of disbelief is a little harder to come by. For up and coming musicians*, however, I find myself investing in their stories of hustling just like I did when Jay and Ghost were young men, or even back the first time I heard Melle Mel spit street rhymes on “The Message”. Bandana may rely on the same building blocks that have been around since hip hop’s early days, but it does so with an immediacy and attention to craft that make it sound timeless, not dated.

Freddie Gibbs is new to me, but he commands the microphone in a way that gives him instant credibility. He sounds like he knows from whence he speaks, in other words.  While the veracity of a rapper’s crime-inspired lyrics is meaningless to me, it undeniably helps when they don’t sound like hollow posturing. Gibbs is an imposing presence on the mic, balancing plain-spoken rhymes with a subtly complex array of cadences to pull from. There’s no one line that has me losing my shit, but his floor for lyrical quality is very high. So, Bandana rates in the top ten based on rhymes alone, but it is Madlib’s contributions that earn its designation as the best album of the 2019. Paradoxically old school and futuristic at the same time, the production on this album is impossibly perfect. Madlib generates so much motion and dynamism in his beats – layering various elements to create cavernous depth to some tracks, strategically weaving in ambient noise like speaker crackles, dropping the music entirely to emphasize specific punchlines – all over top of a bed of the warmest, most obscure soul samples you’ve ever heard. It is hip hop that is hard enough to bump in your car with the volume cranked up and sophisticated enough to zone out on with your headphones in, obsessing over every detail. The pitch-perfect collaborations with Black Thought, Anderson .Paak, Pusha T and others is simply icing on the cake, as is the increasingly hard-to-come-by verse from Yasin Bey (formerly Mos Def). Some of the more recent hip hop I’ve featured has probably left some of my friends scratching their heads, particularly if they stopped paying attention when No Limit and Bad Boy sunk the culture into its early-00’s tailspin. This is one that ought to satisfy fans of all stripes.

* Maybe “up-and-coming” isn’t the best choice of words – Gibbs is nearly my age and has been rapping for well over a decade. My point remains, however, that he’s far from a well-known superstar.

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     2. Cheap Queen – King Princess

While I am confident in recommending Bandana to a wide swath of hip hop fans, I’m not sure precisely who Cheap Queen is for. This is King Princess’ debut album, and though it doesn’t exactly scream avant garde, it’s aesthetic is a bit difficult to pin down. There are hooks here, but they are stretched out, obfuscated a bit. Certainly not the radio-ready earworms of R&B stars. Is this even R&B, really? Is it pop? Serge Gainsbourg meets Tierra Whack? I don’t know, and I don’t really care, because this shit just sounds so good to me. King Princess is not a powerhouse singer, but her sultry, laconic delivery is super cool. I dare say Sade-esque, even. The lyrics are centered on love and lust and slacking off, filtered through the perspective of the hip, young and desirable.

You want that young love, like passing emotion, that shit that you dream of; I’m just sitting at home smoking joints like it’s my job ’cause that’s what my dream was

Or

I’ve been alright, I’ve just been doing the same shit I’ve always liked; Like smoking and movies and homies who bring me wine

Most every song is great (“Hit the Back” is just ok, I guess), and they amble through your headphones without much regard to conventional length or structure. Some of them, like “Useless Phrases” and “Do You Wanna See Me Crying” are almost tauntingly abbreviated. They are sung with a beguiling blend of nonchalance (she’s ultimately singing about trivial relationship trials, after all) and sincere emotion (but that shit can still be your whole world in your early twenties). Between the invested vocals and the beats that catch you off guard with their staying power, Cheap Queen has quietly become my most played album of 2019.

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     3. Country Squire – Tyler Childers

Tyler Childers seems to have grown up a bit. I’m not surprised, of course, I even said that expected he would when I reviewed 2017’s rowdy Purgatory. While Country Squire’s album art might suggest a continuation of that album’s drug-fueled debauchery, it is a much more traditional country record in terms of theme and subject matter. Childers is no angel all of a sudden, but he’s now grappling with life on the road, and saving up to build his lady a cabin, and painting lived-in, small town character portraits like so many of his contemporaries and influences. None of this is a bad thing, by the way, lest you worry that there isn’t room for more songs like these in the country music universe. These are tropes that are enduring, especially when executed with the skill and sincerity that Childers displays all over his third album. “All Your’n” even finds him in unabashedly romantic mode, something that wouldn’t have suited him at all on his last release. Along with his new-found maturity, Tyler has also tightened up his song-craft. Every track on this album is crisp and efficient, highlighting his singing and storytelling. It’s also unmistakably, capital-“C” Country. While Sturgill Simpson and Jason Isbell have leaned towards straight-forward rock music in recent releases, and Kacey Musgraves has even dabbled in disco, Childers has practically crafted a late-60’s Merle Haggard record with Country Squire. What a lovely thing to have in 2020, honestly, and I expect that this will be something I revisit on a frequent basis. One of the better country albums of the decade.

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     4. Flamagra – Flying Lotus

I’ve been lukewarm to Flying Lotus’ previous releases, and really, lukewarm is pretty much my ceiling for electronic music anyway. I don’t know precisely why that is, but I imagine that it has something to do with an inability to connect with the music on an emotional level. That’s on me, ultimately, because who’s to say that an artist is intrinsically more capable of channeling their emotions into a vocal or instrumental performance than a digitally crafted one? I can’t do either, so certainly not me. Something about Flamagra hits me differently, though. Listening to this album I experience a range of feelings from beautiful serenity to nerve-jangling anxiety. It’s a somewhat challenging listen, at times inscrutable, but it is the album that makes me feel something more than anything else released in 2019. It’s long, with 27 tracks that stretch beyond an hour and encompasses soul, funk, hip hop and lots of indescribable weirdness. It has Tierra Whack’s refrain of “titties in his face” distorted into a menacing demon yowl. It has David Lynch telling a panic-inducing story about a suburban family facing impending disaster. Thankfully, the closing few songs instill a feeling of hope, musically at least, although I’m not sure the lyrics bear that out. Solange joins near the end to sing a lovely and soothing track, ostensibly about falling from grace. The final song is similarly peaceful yet continues the album-long theme of the world being on fire all around us. So perhaps the album’s arc is less about ending with hope, but rather about ending with acceptance of the inevitable apocalypse. The world has changed since the album was recorded, and I can understand someone not looking for that type of heaviness as they explore the music of last year. Yet, I still recommend Flamagra, and I’ll always appreciate it for either being the only electronic album I love, or perhaps for sparking an interest in the form that leads me to a deeper relationship with electronic music overall. Time will tell.

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     5. Homecoming – Beyoncé

For all the artists that I have become a fan of while working on this project – Judas Priest, Built to Spill, Deafheaven to name a few – none has been as surprising to me as Beyoncé. To be honest, I stan her harder than any of those bands. This is her second trip to my top five, and I’m having to hold myself back from gushing too much in this review. Part of that reverence comes the film from which this soundtrack album was born. Homecoming (on Netflix) chronicles her two performances headlining Coachella in 2018, and the pure spectacle of the production, coupled with the humanizing story of her bouncing back from a complicated pregnancy in a relatively short time to manage such a production, have won me over to her side permanently. I have seen some great concert performances in my life, but I would kill to have someone work that hard to entertain me. Since this is a review of an album, however, I’m going to try to divorce the storyline and visual elements from Homecoming and focus on the music. This is the rare live album that offers significantly different versions of the songs it features. Accompanied by a massive horn section, equally massive cavalcade of backing vocalists, and a full drumline, Beyoncé’s music is totally re-contextualized into a brass and percussion forward permutation meant to evoke the marching bands at historically black colleges. That’s great for someone like me, who was all in on hip hop’s collective drumline obsession in the mid-2000s. Overly familiar tunes like “Crazy in Love” feature dramatic tempo shifts to play with our expectations. “Sorry” gets a mid-performance skit and an interpolation of her early hit “Me, Myself & I”. The music saddles right up to Fela Kuti and Africa 70 in the Jay Z collaboration “Déjà vu”, and elsewhere the horn section sneaks in a reference to Outkast’s “Spottieottiedopalicious”. All of that attention to making something new instead of recreating the album cuts gives the performance tremendous fluidity despite the disparate sounds she has deployed throughout her career. Most amazingly, for a performance that was meticulously engineered and rehearsed over the course of eight months, it has the most incredible, spontaneous energy to it. The downside to all of that preparation is that when it comes time to bring in an outsider to join Yoncé (Jay, her former Destiny’s Child bandmates), all you can think is they need to get off her damn stage because they are so outclassed, and more importantly, so clearly not a part of this massive organism of musicians that has been forged through that crucible of continuous preparation. For anyone who is hesitant because, like me, they have not traditionally connected with Beyonce’s radio hits in the past, I encourage you to push past your skepticism. As an point of example, “Drunk In Love” is a song that I have actively disliked in its original form, but presented as it is on Homecoming, it is a funky, sexy showstopper that I frequently find myself skipping back to hear again when it comes on. That’s the power of this special performance, and why this became the first top five live album that I’ve covered so far.

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     6. Kiwanuka – Michael Kiwanuka

All three of Michael Kiwanuka’s albums have made their way onto my top tens so far. His sound is practically tailor-made for me, with a unique amalgamation of folk, psychedelic rock and soul that I really connect with. On his latest, self-titled release he incorporates everything from gospel to Funkadelic to Barry White into his increasingly varied, but ultimately harmonious array of influences. Kiwanuka opens up sounding like a party, and it goes on to be his brightest, least moody work. Of course for Kiwanuka, even a party is pretty chill and heady, and so this still feels within spitting distance of 2012’s Nick Drake-inspired Home Again. It is gratifying to hear his sound evolving, though, expanding outward with each release to encompass more diverse styles. For an artist who is only on his third album, Michael seems to be in full command of everything he attempts to do. Part of that proficiency has to do with the production of Danger Mouse, who no longer possesses the capacity to blow minds like he did in the mid-2000s, but has settled into being the type of steady hand who always seems to make the smart choice no matter how many musical elements he’s juggling. The album’s lyrics swing from socio-political to centered on personal relationships, but there is a spiritual through-line that is rarely explicit (like it is on standout track “I’ve Been Dazed”) but always present. I tend to use Kiwanuka’s music as go to when we have company, particularly if i don’t know everyone’s tastes. I suppose I kind of have a hard time imagining anyone not vibing with it on some level. Perhaps that ability to have universal appeal is holding him back from producing a true masterpiece, but given his track record so far I tend to think its only a matter of time.

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     7. Divided by Darkness – Spirits Adrift

I’m definitely writing these blog posts for “us”, but since there is ultimately not that many of “us”, its important that there’s something in it for “me”. Fortunately, the act of writing is almost enough in and of its self, and organizing my thoughts about music in this way means I don’t have to devote so many of my waking hours obsessively thinking about it. I’ve also mentioned some of the new artists I have been introduced to through this process, and the genre that may have been bolstered the most so far is modern heavy metal. I’m pretty well acquainted with what metal had to offer in the eighties and nineties, but I haven’t kept up with it as much in recent years. Each new year I cover, however, introduces me to a slew of metal albums, many of which have elements I can’t get past, but several of which wind up in my collection. Divided by Darkness is one of the better outings I’ve come across. Spirits Adrift balances heavy, pounding riffs with intricate prog drumming and beautiful guitar harmonies to offer a blend of styles that you don’t always hear from the same band. Some metal growling is great, but I frequently abandon otherwise solid albums on the basis of cringe-worthy vocals. Fortunately, Cookie Monster stayed home on this one. That means I can understand the lyrics, which, while not necessary for this genre, is a bonus. Sure, they’re all fantasy novel horseshit, but that was half of Led Zeppelin’s catalog, too, so its not like the band is in bad company. (Not to be confused with Bad Company, who mostly just sang about sex with groupies). What makes the album stand out the most, however is the meticulously crafted atmosphere created by the band. It matches the lyrics well – dark and cinematic and vaguely psychedelic. There is definitely some cribbing from Pink Floyd, particularly on “The Way of the Return” which is a hair away from outright plagiarizing “Dogs”. Yet, that should tell you something about the stellar guitar work from Jeff Owens and Nate Garrett, that approximating the great David Gilmour is even an tool they have at their disposal. I’ve been digging this one more and more with each listen, and I look forward to exploring what else this band has to offer.

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     8. Eve – Rapsody

Socially conscious rap is usually virtuous and commendable, and an inevitable reaction to the proliferation of gangster rap in the 80’s and 90’s, but sometimes it can feel like listening to a college lecture rather than hip hop music. It’s no wonder so many people prefer rap about titties and guns, I guess. I like Rapsody’s 2017 album, Laila’s Wisdom, but I never really decide to spin it for that very reason. Eve is equally high-minded, but it actually bumps, too! Some of the beats are pretty obvious, particularly when compared to the crate-digging obscurity of Bandana, but they are all hot, nonetheless. The album has a bit of a production by committee approach, which allows for a wide range of styles. That can be an issue on some albums, but here it actually fits the concept of all the varied role models that Rapsody titles her songs after. It’s nice having old school beats sitting next to current ones, particularly for a fogey like me (oh sorry, “old head”) who can have a hard time connecting to the latest stylings of the art form. Rapsody is a versatile emcee, and she sounds at home on each of these varied tracks. She isn’t particularly showy, but she never sounds outmatched by a beat or struggles to string her rhymes together. In some ways, she’s in the mold of Black Thought or a certain Wu Tang emcee that shows up on one of the songs. Its not a proper hip hop album if it isn’t loaded with guest spots (and it isn’t a proper hip hop album review without calling them out) and Eve delivers big on that front. You have young guns who are at the top of the game at the moment, such as JID and J Cole. You have a sleeper verse from a relative unknown in Leikeli47. Then you have the rarified spots from hip hop royalty. I wouldn’t say that I’m a fan of Queen Latifah, inasmuch as I don’t listen to her music, but I’m always happy when she pops up for a guest verse every several years. The headline for me, though, was always going to be GZA and D’Angelo lending their talents to the “Liquid Swords”-interpolating “Ibtihaj”. This feels like a record that should have a wide appeal among hip hop fans. It reminds me of Mos Def’s Black on Both Sides, in that it’s message is definitely targeted to a specific group of people (in this case narrowing down to black women, specifically) but is inclusive enough to be enjoyed by all. 

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     9. In League with Dragons – Mountain Goat

I’ve long struggled with the singing on the slew of indie and alternative rock records that started gaining popularity in the early nineties. I’m not talking grunge – relatively speaking the major grunge artists all had excellent vocalists – but the lo-fi groups like Pavement and Guided by Voices. I’ve softened on it over the years as I’ve got into acts like The Decemberists and Modest Mouse, and I’ve come to appreciate both the higher quality of the lyrics that usually accompanies these artists as well as the personal connection that the lyricists bring to the material. I’m still not sold on Pavement, necessarily, but I’m open to the style at least. Hell, I’m a Grateful Dead fan, and they didn’t have a decent singer among them. As you might have guessed, John Darnielle (the driving force of the Mountain Goats) is not a great singer. He has a bit of a reedy timbre and not much range. Yet, he is a whip-smart songwriter, and he knows the inflections and phrasing that bring his words to life. In League with Dragons was ostensibly inspired by Dungeons & Dragons, featuring titles like “Clemency for the Wizard King” and “Sentries in the Ambush”. Really though, it’s about all types of nerdy stuff (“Doc Gooden” and “Waylon Jennings Live!” should indicate this is not a strict concept album). For a genre that has a million songs about falling in love, falling out of love, life on the road and dealing with depression, its refreshing to hear songs about such specific topics as a possum rallying its clan to scavenge for garbage while avoiding the deadly wheels of long-haul truckers, or an international smuggler stopping off at a bar to get drunk and catch a Waylon Jennings show (“Looking up at the one man in the room who’s handled more cocaine than me.”) You won’t find any big, flashy hooks, but every tune is carefully constructed and you’ll find that they stick with you long after you are done listening. Most of the albums on this list are a particularly great version of something that exists in myriad forms. There is nothing else out there like In League with Dragons.

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     10. This Land Abounds With Life – Fabian Almazan Trio

I wonder if jazz is really going through the resurgence that seems apparent to me as I compile these lists, or is it just a function of the increasing proliferation of music blogs that make it easy for me to seek out the best albums the genre has to offer? Regardless, the decade of the 2010’s has produced more jazz that I have enjoyed than any other decade since the 60’s. This Land Abounds with Life is an entry into the catalog of jazz records that seek to evoke a sense of an entire environment, like Sketches of Spain or Far East Suite. I have sometimes jabbed that similar efforts play like the soundtrack to a nature documentary, and that’s not entirely untrue here. Yet, given the title and album cover, I imagine that to be an apropos choice, not an unfortunate coincidence. Most great jazz recordings balance beauty and tension, and TLAWL excels at that. On certain tracks, for example, it’s easy to imagine rolling fields wet with dew giving way to a chase between a raptor and some sort of prey animal. Maybe I’ve watched too much Planet Earth and its ilk over the years, but I have to believe that Almazan is intentionally evoking these images. Maybe not the precise tableau I laid out, but something similar. There are so many details and so much craft behind this, that it hardly sounds improvisational at all. Yet, that doesn’t rob it of any of its magic. This may not be the type of jazz album to put on at a cocktail party, but its the type that listening to it is an end unto itself. 

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Honorable Mentions

Soul/R&B: Jimmy Lee – Raphael Saadiq; Assume Form – James Blake; It Rains Love – Lee Fields & the Expressions; When I Get Home – Solange; Cuz I Love You – Lizzo; IGOR – Tyler, the Creator; Ventura – Anderson .Paak; STILL – TOBI; American Love Call – Durand Jones & the Indications; Rouge – Yuna; Shea Butter Baby – Ari Lennox; You’re the Man – Marvin Gaye

Country: The Highwomen – The Highwomen; Cheap Silver and Solid Country Gold – Mike and the Moonpies; Let It Roll – Midland; Charlie Marie – Charlie Marie

Folk/Pop: Tales of America – J.S. Ondara; Wooh Dang – Daniel Norgren; Walk Through Fire – Yola; In the Shape of a Storm – Damien Jurado; Norman Fucking Rockwell – Lana Del Ray

Rock and Roll: Sound and Fury – Sturgill Simpson; Ilana: The Creator – Mdou Moctar; The Center Won’t Hold – Sleater-Kinney; V – The Budos Band; Tenderness – Duff McKagen

Hip Hop: Hiding Places – Billy Woods and Kenny Segal; Never Hated, I Just Waited – Chris Crack; The Plugs I Met – Bennie the Butcher; Feet of Clay – Earl Sweatshirt; Ghostface Killahs – Ghostface Killah; Revenge of the Dreamers – Dreamville

Metal: Love Exchange Failure – White Ward; Fear Inoculum – Tool; Deserted – Gatecreeper; Spiritual Instinct – Alcest

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