The 30 best albums of 2024 (so far) (2024)

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With lyricism at once strikingly mature and heart-rendingly childlike, Adrianne Lenker has long weaved words into worlds. Bright Future is no exception. The understated “Real House” immediately sets the tone: Grounded by muted piano chords, Lenker’s voice is like a reed in the wind as she sings, ostensibly to her mother, about the first time she saw her cry. From the plucky folk of “Sadness as a Gift” and the controlled desperation of the (remarkably catchy) rendition Big Thief’s “Vampire Empire’’ to the balladic “Ruined,” Bright Future does not lack for variety. But it never comes at the expense of cohesion: every song is strung together by visceral threads of love and loss, of sadness that feels like hope and hope that feels like sadness. Love all too easily slips out of cradled hands, but Bright Future is a net underneath, catching that love and holding it just long enough to put it into song. “Now our love is dying,” Lenker sings at the end of “Donut Seam,” “Don’t it seem like a good time for kissing? / One more kiss, one more kiss to last the years.” Stripped down, vulnerable, and barer than her Big Thief records, Bright Future is an exquisite showcase of Lenker’s talents in general, but perhaps none more than her incredible ability to capture a moment like a moth in a jar, modestly holding it up for all to see. [Casey Epstein-Gross]

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Alexandra Hughes, as Allie X, sings like the mic is down the hall, in a room with a locked door, which is to say she’s singing like a pop diva of yesteryear. And she has a lot to yell about, whether in horror or delight. “Off With Her tit*” explores not feeling at home in your own body, flirting with macabre imagery before crescendoing into a wail. “Black Eye,” too, probes similar territory, but words eventually fail, leaving Hughes shrieking almost operatically. But in Weird World’s quieter moments—“John and Jonathan,” “Saddest Smile”—the synthetic production moves you from the ecstasy of the club to the alienation of the digital world; a sonic highway between the 1980s and the present. [Drew Gillis]

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Beyoncé albums are always an event; she’s the rare performer who routinely earns as much critical acclaim as commercial success (and vice versa). Much was made about Bey’s pivot to country following the Super Bowl-timed debut of singles “Texas Hold ‘Em” and “16 Carriages,” but Cowboy Carter ended up being something both broader and deeper than simple trend-chasing. More than a country album, it’s a Southern album, one often highlighting Black history and artistry across genres. Black artists are here in name (Shaboozey on “Sweet★Honey★Buckiin’”) and in spirit (listen to “Ya Ya” and you may be still convinced that Tina Turner is still making music). “Bodyguard” dips into ‘70s rock, while the bizarro “Spaghettii”—featuring the strangest pronunciation of “Thanos” ever recorded—affirms the region’s role in hip-hop history. Cowboy Carter is blunt in its mission to be a corrective force to popular consciousness. “The statues they made were beautiful,” Beyoncé sings in album closer “Amen.” “But they were lies of stone.” [Drew Gillis]

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For lack of a more sophisticated phrasing: Billie Eilish and Finneas freaked it with their third studio album, Hit Me Hard And Soft. There’s an unbridled maturity in their work with both the lyricism and production. With only 10 songs, the album is sonically cohesive and an ideal mix of bops, heartbreak anthems, and self-introspection. Eilish’s breathy vocals feel more confident than ever before on tracks like “L’Amour De Ma Vie,” and we’ve already established “Lunch” as a strong contender for song of the summer. But Finneas’ vocal engineering truly completes the album and gives it that oomph. It’s a perfect package, and one that gives the other pop albums this year a run for their money. [Saloni Gajjar]

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The Challengers soundtrack isn’t just one of the best film albums of the year—it’s one of the best albums of the year, period. If you loved the sultry, pounding electronic beats of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ perfect score in the theater, here’s a pro tip from us: they serve just as hard in the real world. Whether you’re doing spreadsheets at work or deep in a decades-long love triangle out on the court, the Challengers soundtrack will undoubtedly have you saying “yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.” Here’s another tip: if you want to avoid the Dreaded iPhone Alarm at the end of the first track, queue up Challengers [MIXED] instead of the OG soundtrack. It’s a completely distraction-free ace. [Emma Keates]

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Charli XCX has never been more comfortable with her status as a cult classic-ish pop star as she is on brat. Somehow even more brazen and brash than he previous few albums, her latest release feels like one giant in-joke for the fans who have kept up with her, whether they were there for “Boom Clap” and “Fancy” or not. Whether she’s talking about her insecurities (as on the revealing “Rewind”) or flexing how despite those insecurities you still want to be her, brat is an outrageous bash whose reputation will only grow. [Drew Gillis]

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Chief Keef occupies an exalted space in both Chicago and drill lore, two living histories that are in many ways inextricable from each other. A bonafide star by 16, Keef’s wall-of-sound production and stormy vocal runs set the table for a vast cohort of game-changing artists, from Billie Eilish to NBA Youngboy to Devstacks. The sequel to his monumental 2013 mixtape with DJ Scream, Almighty So 2 has been a holy grail among Keef heads famous and ordinary alike, promised, delayed, and languished in true believers’ pre-adds for years (I anticipated it for this very publication in 2023, a good year too early). As it turns out, the real thing is exactly the treasure chest every stalwart Sosa fan predicted. When Keef tumbles through tumultuous teenage stardom and a transition to fatherhood on album highlight “Believe,” he raps with the kind of birds-eye wisdom that sets him a cut above the rest. Watching an essential voice of drill receive his flowers in his own time feels poignant (and rare) enough. But the revelatory production—what keyed-up pep band player did he coax that “Grape Trees” beat out of?—makes Almighty So 2 much more than a supercut, or even a homecoming. This is a 10,000-meter victory lap. [Hattie Lindert]

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Few bands have figured out how to bring Oi! to the masses quite like the U.K.’s The Chiesel. One of the most popular bands in punk, The Chisel’s second LP, What A f*cking Nightmare, has snarling rage and beefy hooks in spades, combining the anthemic, reverb-infused leads of Blitz and the street sneer of co*ckney Rejects. Amid those soaring choruses, the band finds relatable topics to decry: the loser abusers at the bar (“Cry Your Eyes Out”), cynical politicians (“No Gimmicks”), and coming-of-age (“Living For Myself”). Grab your best mate and hit the pub for a pint because, ironically, What A f*cking Nightmare might be the pop Oi! album of our dreams. [Matt Schimkowitz]

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Cindy Lee’s Diamond Jubilee sounds like discovery. The ethereal seventh album from drag queen and dream pop icon Cindy Lee, the alter ego of Canadian indie troubadour Patrick Flegel, is a sprawling 32 tracks of haunting, inspired pop. Like spinning the dial on a water-logged transistor radio, Diamond Jubilee celebrates the music of the last century by turning it into something entirely new. From the laidback blues rock of “Baby Blue” to the funky instrumental “Gayblevision,” Cindy Lee understands something that we’ve lost: the continuum of pop music doesn’t have to be a straight line but a swirling collection of the ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s, and today, linked by the melodies and atmosphere of Flegel’s ghostly vocals haunting each track. You hear touches of girl group, psychedelia, punk, and classic rock in nearly every decision Flegel makes. More impressively, they’ve crafted a two-hour double album that never succumbs to the bloat and excess of most multi-disc epics. Paced beautifully with an eclectic range of influences that blend into something entirely new, Diamond Jubilee is something to celebrate in and of itself. [Matt Schimkowitz]

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Between Rosali’s Bite Down and the latest David Nance record, we can thank Mowed Sound for backing two of the best rock records of the year, and not a moment too soon. David Nance & Mowed Sound, Nance’s first for Third Man Records, turns down the overdrive and lifts the lo-fi fog of Nance’s 2020 album Staunch Honey. Backed by Mowed Sound, Nance constructs a swaggering country rock record, welcoming newcomers to the prolific Nebraskan guitarist with a diverse and addictive collection of songs. From the whispered “Tumbleweed” to the funky “Credit Line,” Nance and the Sound dare the listener not to tap their foot. Finally, someone made a dad rock album that doesn’t sound like their dad’s music. [Matt Schimkowitz]

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At this point in the career of Dehd—the fantastic Chicago trio of guitarist Jason Balla, bassist Emily Kempf, and drummer Eric McGrady—you almost know what you’re going to get. That’s meant as a compliment, the way the Ramones in their heyday had a sound. Dehd’s sound—root-note bass lines, simple drum beats, nimble guitar pickings, girl-guy vocals, and plenty of space—is certainly there on Poetry. But there are subtle curveballs, too, including a more radio-friendly production sheen and some strummy songs. That said, the heart of what makes this album—and all of Dehd’s releases, reality—tick is there, with beautifully restrained guitar lines, hooky choruses, and a lot of infectious songs about falling in love. [Tim Lowery]

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Danish producer Erika de Casier is the most important modern pop architect you likely haven’t heard of—yet. A major production placement on New Jeans’ smash “Super Shy” introduced the under-the-radar visionary’s delicate touch to a new mainstream audience. Putting a new spin on a formidable formula like the K-Pop hit takes the kind of guts, grace, and genuine technical prowess Casier kicks into high gear on her record Still. Needle-sharp arrangements and a standout contribution from Shygirl infuse an irresistible Y2K-inflected mocktail (she’s got places to be and people to see in the morning, mama). But lead single “Lucky” flirts with the sublime, with Casier’s flexible coo languishing across a beat rendered from deep inhales, twinkling synths, and baby grand piano. Dipping fluidly between dizzying romance, grindset exhaustion and pulsating sex appeal, Casier again affirms that the main pop girl and the working woman have always been one and the same. [Hattie Lindert]

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Lorely Rodriguez has spent years crafting precise, quietly bulletproof pop songs, and her knack is on full display in her fourth album For Your Consideration. The first lyrics of the project establish the connection between professional, artistic success and love: “You said I felt like home, I let you inside… cut to your decision.” For Your Consideration’s production twinkles with plucked keys and sizzling cymbals; the Rina Sawayama featuring “Kiss Me” unfolds methodically into an intimate duet, while the dancier “Femenine” plainly states her desire for power in the bedroom. Like a seasoned performer campaigning for an award, For Your Consideration aims to please while quietly claiming its own dignity. [Drew Gillis]

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It’s been 11 years since Faye Webster recorded her first album, so it can be easy to forget that the Atlanta singer/songwriter is still just 26, especially listening to her latest, Underdressed At The Symphony. Delightful countermelodies dance around her casual ruminations on relationships and the surreality of life. Her songs pull from modern R&B, ‘70s yacht rock and the titular nights out at the symphony she’s taken to attending on her own. And then there’s the delightfully leftfield single “Lego Ring” featuring her longtime friend Lil Yachty. Laid back but never boring, Webster continues to experiment and explore. [Josh Jackson]

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It only took the opening track on the debut from Chicago duo Friko to make me a believer. “Where We’ve Been” builds from a quiet folk ballad into a cacophony as reminiscent of Bright Eyes as of Radiohead. “Crashing Through” is as wonderfully bombastic as early-era Arcade Fire. There’s an urgency to most of these songs that all but hides the complexity of their construction on first listen, but that combination just rewards every replay. And then their love of classical and chamber music bleeds in as each track zigs and zags from violins to fuzzed-out guitars. Wherever they go from here, I’ll be listening. [Josh Jackson]

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Jessica Pratt’s fourth album feels near-miraculous, like a radio transmission preserved in amber. Here In the Pitch doesn’t feel like its trading in on aesthetics from the past; remarkably, it feels like someone in the past is talking to you, directly into your ear canal, through time. Pratt is able to conjure an ephemeral mood in a way that no album this year has quite replicated. Much of this comes from the record’s production, of course, but it would be a crime to sell Pratt’s vocals short; her phrasing on a track like “World On A String” is idiosyncratic, unexpected, and totally unique. [Drew Gillis]

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Kali Uchis continues to outdo herself. On the heels of last year’s Red Moon In Venus, she’s returned with a new collection of music spanning genres, languages, and time itself. Standout track “Te Mata” (“It Kills You,” in English) conjures a Selena ballad as sung by a David Lynch heroine, with a soaring, kiss-off refrain directed at a former lover. There are big hits here and big collaborations with the likes of Karol G, JT, and Peso Pluma, but Orquídeas really wins when it lays back into Uchis’ Neo-soul bonafides. “Tu Corazón es Mío…”, for example, both sounds immediately familiar and like nothing else that has come out this year. [Drew Gillis]

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Kirin J Callinan’s twisted sense of humor is on full display in If I Could Sing. The project abounds with demented, pseudo-theater kid glee as soon as the “Young Drunk Driver” bridge builds into melodrama about a prophecy. From there, “Anaemic Adonis” taps into the male body via an electro-ska groove, while the arrangements of “Crazier Idea” and the title track are so grand they seem to teleport the listener through the universe. But in the latter, that space allows his pretense to all but disappear as Callinan’s baritone sings to an unspecified “you”—an intimate, vulnerable respite in the midst of bombast. [Drew Gillis]

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The Baby Gronks of power pop, Long Island’s Lemon Twigs were made for this. Since before they could drive, brothers Brian and Michael D’Addario have released convincing and accomplished radio-friendly power pop, and they continue their mastery on A Dream Is All We Know. With more confidence and a wider toolset than the four preceding LPs, the D’Addarios trade off songwriting and performance duties, polishing gem after gem that could fit easily on Pet Sounds, Rubber Soul, and Songs In The Key Of Life. Their heavenly Beach Boys harmonies, velvety vocals, and wicked guitar heroics worm their way into the ear canals without alarming the listener. All of it sounds perfectly organic, as if birthed from a magic AM radio that hasn’t been touched since 1975. There’s a lot that could be said for the originality of these tracks. If there’s one knock against Lemon Twigs, it’s that they can be overly reverential to their heroes, often forcing the question “where have I heard this before?” Lemon Twigs fight this by making sure the songs are so good, you don’t care. On A Dream Is All We Have, they succeed, coming off as a late-blooming contemporary of their influences rather than a copycat. [Matt Schimkowitz]

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Don’t Forget Me should have come with a warning. Caution, the album should have read in big yellow letters on its cover, this will make you want to reach out to all those once-dear childhood friends you lost touch with ages ago. Maggie Rogers has never sounded better than on her third studio album, as she sings with beyond-her-years confidence and a new bit of rasp about childhood, nostalgia, and the sweet pain of the passage of time. Tender, yearning, but never regretful, Rogers channels artists like Brandi Carlile, Sharon Van Etten, and even Joni Mitchell as she sings of old loves, old homes, and new possibilities on stand-out tracks like “So Sick Of Dreaming,” “The Kill,” “Drunk,” and “It Was Coming All Along.” On the album’s gut punch of a closer, titled “Don’t Forget Me,” Rogers pleads, “Promise me that when it’s time to leave / Don’t forget me.” If she keeps putting out work like this, we certainly never will. [Emma Keates]

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Too long have we been deprived of a new album from Pissed Jeans. The punk provocateurs who wallow in the mundane indignities of everyday life haven’t been active since 2017. Half Divorced doesn’t buck their 20-year career of self-deprecating lyrics and Jesus Lizard-inspired sludge rock, but the group’s sly sense of humor has only gotten sharper. “Sixty-Two Thousand Dollars In Debt” is a skate rock song about the crushing realities and pathetic optimism of debt; “Everywhere Is Bad” borrows the raucous gang vocals of Black Flag’s “T.V. Party” for a confrontational treatise on staying home.; “(Stolen) Catalytic Converter,” a war against poisonous small talk. Half Divorced’s anti-social streak sounds like the ravings of a person who is exactly that. We wouldn’t have it any other way. [Matt Schimkowitz]

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With eight blistering tracks in 14 minutes, North Carolina’s Public Acid attacks the listener with lightning-fast punk, the perfect blend of pre- and post-Feel The Darkness Poison Idea. But we can pick our kings another day; Deadly Struggle stands on its own as one of the strongest and angriest hardcore records of the year. Songs like “Ignorance” and “End Of Pain” cultivate the hard-charging darkness of a caged wild animal. The guttural vocals and heavy low-end are set against a wave of distortion that splits the difference between the burning intensity of Japanese hardcore and the hopelessness of American punk, crushing the listener in bass and feedback. Chaotic and cohesive, Public Acid makes Deadly Struggle seem like anything but. [Matt Schimkowitz]

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For her Merge Records debut and her first album since moving from Philadelphia to North Carolina, Rosali has filled out her sound with David Nance and Mowed Sound as her backing band. This expansion has opened up her introspective folk songs, giving them a spaciousness and bar-band danceability unheard on her previous records. From “Rewind,” a “Harvest Moon”-reminiscent love letter to her past and present selves; to the psychedelic waltz of “Hills On Fire;” to the cacophonous choogle of “My Kind;” to the jangly attempts at acceptance on “Hopeless” (“It’s one life / for a minute / I let you be in it”); to the full life cycle of “Change Is The Form” (“tears when we die / tears when we’re born”), Rosali throws her whole heart into every track. Bite Down is a record about meeting reality where it’s at while resisting being hardened by the cruelty and apathy of the universe, and rocking out through every heartbreak. [Grace Ann Natanawan]

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Nearly two decades into their run, Vancouvers’s post-punk stalwarts Spectres return with their most accomplished and polished LP to date. Presence sees the band expanding their deathrock armor, allowing glimmers of light to break through as singer Brian Gustavson comes closer than ever to Morrisey’s baritone. For the first time, Spectres have struck an ideal balance of sincerity and cynicism with songs like “The Old Regime” and “Chain Reaction” blending their anarcho-punk intensity with darkwave melancholy—not to mention, catchy as hell. Spectres was always a band in conflict with itself, upholding their new-wave pop and DIY punk ethos. Presence finally sees them as one, a dark pop album that feels both doomed and hopeful. [Matt Schimkowitz]

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Visceral and surreal, St. Vincent’s first self-produced album is simultaneously a return to form and a bold departure from anything Annie Clark has released before. There is a fire smoldering at the album’s center, flickering at its edges. Flames lick Clark’s figure on the cover, cinders of Pompeii scatter over “Violent Times.” The heated propulsion of synths and drums burn to an all-consuming loss that precedes even itself (“I’ve been mourning since the day I met you,” Clark croons on “Reckless”). All Born Screaming is at once a quiet inferno and a raging campfire, simmering and roaring and always adding more wood to the pile. It feels like a rebirth of both listener and singer (the latter particularly, if you consider 2021’s Daddy’s Home a misstep), like a phoenix searing to life amongst still-orange ashes. As Clark half-whispers, half-sings on the gauzy, distorted opener “Hell is Near,” all signs of life, even things as small as “ash on linoleum,” are beginnings in and of themselves—are signs for us to “begin again.” [Casey Epstein-Gross]

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If it feels like we waited a long time for Tierra Whack’s debut album, it’s because we waited a long time for Tierrra Whack’s debut album. But the time was worth it, both for us and for the Philadelphia-born rapper. After her explosive mixtape debut in 2018 and a handful of loosies and big-name collaborations (Beyoncé, for one), Whack honed her craft and emerged with a project as complete as it is often morbid. In a year where pop music has been obsessed with the “Saturn Return,” the rapper has a far less sunny outlook than, well, Eternal Sunshine. Final song “27 Club” is bracing in its depiction of the late-20s ennui, ending on the lyric “Coach got me doing suicides,” as the last word echoes off into the distance. It’s not pretty, but it’s vulnerable, relatable, and incredibly real. [Drew Gillis]

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At a moment when a swath of young, female talent has emerged across the pop landscape, Tyla stands out as a treasure from a different era of performance. The South African singer’s poised self-titled debut delivers from the bottom up. Her ruminations on pressure and attraction glisten over amapiano grooves that blend the genre’s trademark drum patterns with seamless mixing and mastering at the level of Ariana Grande’s lockdown gem Positions. The exultant backing choir on the breakout of her first hit “Water” gets leveled up on album opener “Safer,” while the mournful “Priorities” adds a subtle, career-minded twist to a classic crying-on-the-dancefloor formula. When she sings about sweating off her concealer on the infectious Gunna and Skillibeng-featuring “Jump,” you’re right there with you—this record radiates melting energy from the core. [Hattie Lindert]

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Vince Staples’ latest LP Dark Times feels timeless from the jump. The largely laid-back project, the Long Beach rapper’s first in over two years, is less experimental and more accessible than some of his previous work, like 2017's idiosyncratic Big Fish Theory, but that’s not to say it lacks for depth. “Étouffée,” a personal standout, explores Staples’ success and how his lifestyle now risks alienating him from his humble beginnings, interpolating a bit of DJ Jimi’s 1992 classic “Where They At?”. For a moment, Staples’ moody production disappears to shake it out to Jimi’s original beat—then retreats right back into his head, in the present. [Drew Gillis]

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“If you’re not living, then you’re dying,” Waxahatchee (a.k.a. Katie Crutchfield) rawly declares over a resounding, acoustic note on the first track of her latest album, “3 Sisters.” While she really stepped into her sound on 2020’s exemplary Saint Cloud, Waxahatchee has never been more alive than on Tiger’s Blood, an album that demands to be listened to in rolling fields under puffy white clouds. Backed on strings and vocals by MJ Lenderman, Crutchfield continues her quest for the perfect porch/campfire song here, while also doling out the heart-piercing lyrics she’s been known for throughout her entire career. No one can turn a simple lyric into an indelible earworm quite like Waxahatchee, and the titular refrains from standouts “Right Back To It” and “Bored” are precious new additions to that collection. [Emma Keates]

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At just over 22 minutes long, Bladee and Yung Lean’s joint tape Psykos set the tone for what has turned into a banner year for Drain Gang. The collective’s unofficial bellwether duo have a working relationship and friendship of well over a decade, and they deploy it in full force here, diving into the kind of vulnerable questions you can only discuss with the one friend who was there. Their reflections on youthful isolation and in-the-spotlight coping manage to match a cohesive but varied tone, ranging from heavy cello and violin to more familiar hummed loops and reverb. Their voices just sound good together. And in the wake of Yung Lean’s irresistible new collaborations with Charli XCX and Bladee’s critically acclaimed solo album Cold Visions, their unique push and pull in the studio is just that much more poignant to rock with. [Hattie Lindert]