A Year in Music: My Top 10 Records of 2020.

Writing these articles is kind of fucking hard.

Especially when you’re starting in late December and repeatedly run into albums you missed from earlier in the year, making you reconsider the list you’ve already wasted too much time assembling. Thank god—or, rather, the coronavirus(?)—for all that PTO that you accumulated and didn’t use, otherwise you definitely wouldn’t’ve had proper time to catch up on shit and push your thoughts out by the end of the calendar year on a low-key Medium article that few people will actually read. Countless hours are spent dragging SoundCloud or Spotify tracks with your thumbs and chewing over whether or not that newly-released album is worth a deeper listen before you finalize your list. Zero hours are spent realizing that January 1st is an arbitrary, self-imposed deadline…Khep…listen, baby…nothing is forcing you to finish writing so soon, and nothing is wrong with “publishing” a few days, or even weeks, after the turn of the year. No, actually, you do realize this. But you’re meticulous and you write this shit for yourself, so, here we go, time to grind this…article…out…

I say the above about…75% in jest. Making a year-end list and writing a music review are not that stressful, and definitely net-positive. But so much of my inner life is composed of the music I digest, and I am very invested in that inner life. I am very analytical in my introspections, and anything that is important enough to reside within my inner life—such as music—is subject to the rigor of that introspection. So, when I write an article like this, it’s very internal and therefore very considered. It’s an opportunity to really sit with the music that accompanied so many of my experiences/emotions/thoughts during the year, as well as consider which aspects of the music resonated with me the most. Writing these yearly articles is like a final diary entry where in summarizing my music-listening journey, I also summarize myself. The difference is, unlike with a diary, I am ultimately sharing it with other people. Hopefully this makes it clear where I am operating from. If so, welcome.

If you haven’t skipped the previous two paragraphs—lol—I appreciate you acknowledging my musings. Let’s get to the music though, yeah?

10. The Passion Of — Special Interest
Growing up, I possessed a cursory distaste for any music or aesthetic derivative of rock. This can be partially attributed to one of my sisters, who would have Green Day and Red Hot Chili Peppers on an incessant, obnoxious replay in the bedroom adjacent to mine. I was classically conditioned into a negative association with the genre, not to mention that the rock acts I knew of at the time were overwhelmingly white. It wasn’t until years later that I would learn of rock’s Black roots and be able to identify with the spirit of the genre.

It happens to several Black children of the diaspora: the realization of just how many popular cultural artifacts in America are, in fact, products of our people. This was the case not just with rock, but with EDM as well—two music genres that play heavily into this first record which I want to briefly talk about.

Somewhere within the past two years of being unexpectedly jerked towards the likes of Bad Brains, Throbbing Gristle, and Machine Girl, I also bumped into Special Interest’s The Passion Of. Special Interest is a four-piece band hailing from New Orleans—my hometown!—and I’d be surprised if they didn’t cite the aforementioned artists as influences: punk, industrial, and techno are all wielded by this eclectic, threatening album. Chords clash and kicks pulverize as Alli Logout, the band’s Black and queer frontperson, bellows about socioeconomic depravity, wild but unfulfilling sex on psychedelics, and a toxic habit of relegating oneself to roles of submission. While, on surface level, they characterize the wreckage of the oppressed, beneath lies a foreshadowing of the carnage that will circle around and find its way back to the oppressor. For Special Interest, punk becomes a mechanism for transforming the pain of QPOC lives into a mirror, then holding it up to the hideous faces of white capitalism with a wicked snicker. The end to the torment of the oppressed seems nowhere in sight, but they will not be the only ones to suffer.

9. Couldn’t Wait to Tell You… — Liv.e
This was one of my most regularly played albums of the year. It’s on when I need to center myself in the morning for an 8-hour work sesh; it’s especially on when I need “To Unplug” in the evening after niggas (e.g., buggy computer programs, my dog Smitty, certain individuals) been trying me all day. The first track positions the mood, but I start vibing when we hit “How It Made Me Feel.” By this point, the incense has fully diffused across the room; the candle heat touches my cheeks; my eyes start gettin’ low. Come “She’s My Brand New Crush,” and a nigga is fully transported…

CWTTY is one of my favorite albums from 2020 because it is clever, enigmatic, and non-formulaic. Liv.e invokes the essences of D’Angelo, J Dilla, and Standing On The Corner — plus others — alongside freeform song structure, introspective lyrics, and a stream of consciousness, weaving these elements into a forty eight-minute debut album that sounds like her very own. It’s also just a goddamn energy. Erykah Badu even hosted a virtual release party for the album as part of her “Quarantine Concert Series.” Is the resume convincing enough? Do yourself a kindness during these hellish winter evenings and tap out (or in…) with Liv.e.

8. SIGN — Autechre
“M4 Lema” opens with an increasingly frantic crackle and shudder. You get the mysterious sense that a significant event is about to materialize in front of you, but you are unsure of its nature. Suddenly at 1:35, a dark blue wormhole emerges and instantly engulfs your surroundings. The remainder of the track is an illustration of what it might be like to move through that wormhole: streams of bright, yellow light; hyper-stretched images that somehow look familiar to you; strange textures on the wormhole’s periphery that start to warp. Then, sensory overload—the experience becomes too much; your vision goes entirely white. Seconds, hours, perhaps years later, you wake up to “F7.” Each remaining track is the result of travel through another portal in spacetime. Your experience concludes with the sobering “r cazt”: here, you are finally given the space to reflect on all that has transpired.

Autechre’s latest is one of the least progressive in their wide discography, making it a bit of an anomaly. They are pioneers in electronic music, having started out producing alternative (or “intelligent”) dance music in the early 90s and became increasingly experimental over the decades. SIGN, however, sees the duo return to more formal album structure and melodic production than cerebral releases from earlier in the century. The opening and closing few tracks are the strongest, but the album on the whole is complex, innovative, and immersive. It is such an enjoyable record, and I recommend at least giving the opening track a listen. Whether you fancy electronic music or not, it is bound to transfer you somewhere.

7. KiCk i — Arca
Arca’s latest isn’t as cerebral or affecting as previous works, but it doesn’t need to be. In fact, it’s a flamboyant celebration of that very truth: that no article of self-expression “needs” to be anything. A frighteningly vast amount of personal freedom lies just beyond the doors of this realization. Unfortunately, most shrink back from it. Arca steps forward and revels.

It’s no wonder, then, that “Nonbinary” is KiCk i’s opening track. You see, before Arca unveils the rest of her album, she needs the girls to come correct. She needs the girls to come to an understanding of everything that she is before they try to read. Most of all, she needs—no, dares—the girls to come as their authentic, uncolonized selves. “[Or] do you wanna be a puppet?” she interrogates. It’s quite the cross-examination. If you qualify to pass, she allows you into her wonderful chaos of thrashing electronics, reggaetón, and so much more. Björk, Shygirl, Rosalía, and SOPHIE are called upon to further diversify the mix. Around them, sounds deconstruct. Synthesizers squelch. Asses shake. It’s a lot. Sometimes, I need to give my ears a break. Sometimes, I can’t help but laugh at it all. You can tell that Arca is just having fun here, and (sometimes audibly) laughing, too.

Arca’s self-titled album saw her coming into her own as a vocalist and performer. KiCk i, however, is Arca standing front and center as electronic and pop music’s new avant-garde diva. She has come to be one of my greatest admirations.

6. Forever, Ya Girl — KeiyaA
Solange and Kelela didn’t release records this year, so someone had to come and eat the alternative R&B girlies up. Leave this to Miss KeiyaA.

Solange’s A Seat at the Table did come to mind within minutes of my first listen. It’s difficult not to hear the similarities: avant-garde jazz and soul instrumentation inflected by electronics; grainy monologues delivered over sparse, cosmic keyboard notes; the soft-spoken yet resolute vocals of two Black women—songbirds crying the experience of what it is to resist the confines of the American cage.

Both albums embody African-American life, but Forever, Ya Girl does so with more intrapersonal bent. It is a distinctly meditative Black album; this is what especially draws me to it. I relate to KeiyaA’s process of turning inward to find her freedom and resolve amidst systems of oppression and people rendered emotionally deficient by their neglect to self-examine. Sometimes while reading interviews of KeiyaA, I envision what a conversation between us would be like. Restorative and stimulating, no doubt. At its core, Forever, Ya Girl is an album exemplifying Black (and, particularly, Black female) introspection.

5. Róisín Machine — Róisín Murphy
Róisín Murphy had the gall to publicly threaten to snatch Dua Lipa, Kylie Minogue, and Jessie Ware’s wigs with her new release—a bit of a jaw-dropper—but upon listening to the album, you realize: yes, she, in fact, possesses the range to come for the girls like that. Ware’s “Spotlight” does score its points, but Murphy’s album terminates the game entirely. Gathers the girls. Kindly hand the 2020 Queen of Disco her crown.

If you’re a new listener with an appetite for dance music, album opener “Simulation” will do you very well. It’s eight and a half minutes of ethereal nightclub bliss, including a drop at 6:45 that is simply orgasmic. Initially released as a 12" in 2012, Murphy brilliantly revives the track as a tone-setter for the rest of the album. You’re allowed six minutes to cool down and pat off your sweat (“Kingdom of Ends”), which I highly recommend making use of—virtually every track afterward is nu-disco banger after banger. It doesn’t stop. Murphy and DJ Parrot immediately reprise the four-on-the-floor (“Something More”), and continue punching the high energy further and further in. Ready your body.

Its physicality is an undeniable strong point, but Róisín Machine is additionally elevated above its peers with regards to storyline. The centerpiece of the album, “Murphy’s Law,” walks the tightrope of charting one’s own course through life without relapsing into cyclic, toxic propensities. “Shellfish Mademoiselle” bursts at the seams with indignation towards a closed-off lover keeping a relationship at bay. And Murphy’s emotive, ambient, sexual tone is the perfect vehicle for disclosing such drama. Combined with its production, Róisín Machine nails the physically transporting yet emotionally transparent nature of disco.

4. Set My Heart On Fire Immediately — Perfume Genius
I love Mike Hadreas’ music, but sometimes his tracks are so exhaustingly emo that I can’t help thinking that maybe his problems would vanish if he just sucked a dick.

While Set My Heart On Fire Immediately is a remarkable album, I didn’t find myself listening to it as frequently as others on this list. I’m not a lethargic person by nature, so I seldom languish in the album’s entire fifty minutes on repeat. Nevertheless, I can’t deny how mesmerizing it is. The instrumentation, expressive and multifaceted, is a masterpiece all on its own. Hadreas’ gentle tenor is spiked with so much emotion that, at times, it sounds on the verge of crumbling. The chilling vocal harmonies on “Moonbend” alone make the album one of my favorites from this year. There are a plethora of genius artistic choices. The video for “On the Floor” is also a lil’…hot. Hadreas was also kind of giving sex with some of the album cover shoot photos. So there’s that, too.

3. Heaven To A Tortured Mind — Yves Tumor
Can somebody tranquilize this nigga? Otherwise, there won’t be room for anyone else to make good music!

2018’s Safe In The Hands Of Love placed Yves Tumor comfortably on the map of alternative pop. This year’s Heaven To A Tortured Mind, however, features Sean Bowie broadening their (already expansive) artistic horizons and cementing a status as—and I’ll dare to be objective here—one of contemporary popular music’s most exciting young artists.

It has been a thrill to watch Yves Tumor cover more commercial ground over the past couple of years. I can’t help vigorously nodding my head and snapping my fingers raw each time I discover a friend who’s also tuned in. All the while, Tumor has managed to shed none of their mystique or creativity. This year’s feat involves a pivot into several subgenres of rock (foreshadowed by 2018’s “Noid” and “Lifetime”), made unique by Tumor’s croaking vocals, flair for the dramatic, and disruptive electronic production. That last component gives some of the tracks an additional edge: the barrage of fireworks that introduce “Dream Palette” or the startling, mutated screams of “Medicine Burn” are some of my absolute favorite moments. So fun.

Heaven To A Tortured Mind births a fucked but helplessly infatuated debauchee, the offspring of hedonism and hatred. It should come as no surprise to see Tumor’s Instagram business category cheekily set to “Theatrical Play.” I’d love to give the drama a little more detail, but rather than dissect a few lyrics—and Tumor being keen on visuals—here are two music videos that embody the record’s conflicted spirit. One, two! Legendary.

…please & thank you!

2. Fountain — Lyra Pramuk
Fountain is breathtaking. It’s a dynamic, open-minded, almost supernatural record.

Pramuk describes Fountain as “a mirage.” Heavy electronic manipulations are applied to an orchestra replete with only samples of Pramuk’s voice, manufacturing a forty two-minute long phantasmagoria. The experience during my first listen was surreal. “Witness” suggests watching from the third person as your own body undergoes a peaceful descent into the expanse of an ocean’s bathyal zone. The space narrows on “Tendril,” a choir encircling you as you bathe in their tranquil hymn. “Cradle,” my favorite track on the record, slowly evaporates the body molecule by molecule, siphoning each particle further away from its origin until together they form an atmosphere of tiny, shimmering stars.

The imagery above hints at a theme behind Fountain: water. The link in the previous paragraph contains an interview where Pramuk describes how water, despite being amorphous in nature, provided form for the record:

“Before I even decided to call it “Fountain,” I was looking up every possible kind of body of water and the way that water travels, and I wrote them all down in a notebook, drew pictures of them, and made a narrative. That helped me give it structure.

If you’re in an ocean nearly drowning, that’s really different from if you’re walking up to a bubbling brook in a forest; the feeling of rain is really different from the feeling of being taken down a waterfall. “Mirror,” for instance, I related to ice and being frozen. “Xeno” was about petrichor, the smell of rainfall after dry warm days, so that was like water being heated and turned into particles in the air.”

The metamorphic nature of water not only inspires Fountain, but also Pramuk herself, whose family name translates from Czech as “wellspring.” In her mid-twenties, she had a liberating epiphany upon realizing how malleable everything in the world is; an “endless transformational potential to life and nature,” in her own words. Inner peace and freedom can be derived from understanding, and ideally representing, life’s complexity. This is something I strongly believe in.

Fountain is an escapade: it cognitively, and almost physically, takes me places. It is the album from this year that best explores the vast terrain of my mind.

1. græ — Moses Sumney
Look at Moses Sumney’s fat ass!

græ’s number one position on my list has nothing to do with the fact that we are going to get married. Nope, no bias here. I definitely don’t watch video after video of his performances just to end up repeatedly scanning his face and body up and down. Not at all. Totally just about the music.

Guys, I want to be honest. There is a lot to say about this record, and—like most records discussed earlier—a few paragraphs could never do it justice. But at this point, I have reached the turn of the calendar year, and while this is the last record to summarize…I really, really want to push this out tonight and move on. I have some Chipotle (here’s me, in an hour) waiting to be picked up before the damn place closes in a half hour, and I want to cop a $5 subscription to Wizard101 before I restart work on Monday and won’t have much time to level up my old childhood account.

And hey, as Sumney reiterates through græ, what’s there to gain through being reductive about the complex? Teehee.

What I will say: græ is, in my opinion, one of the most technically well-executed, detailed, ambitious, and profound records of the year. It blends a multitude of genres, careful songwriting, and Sumney’s incredible voice into a chronicle of the inner life of an introspective, multidimensional, young Black man. It feels like me—although I can’t relate to some of the existential angst. For those unfamiliar with the record, promise that when you listen to it, you really listen to it. græ has bountiful offerings if you give it patience and understanding.

Perhaps there’s more that I’ll come back and say about this album. Perhaps, instead, I’ll just go articulate it in my own music—something which all of these records have helped push me to do. 2020 has been good to me, but in this next year, I’m looking forward to sharing more than just other artists’ music. Hopefully, you’ll stay with me.

Thanks for reading! A playlist with selected tracks from these 10 albums can be found here. If you’re interested in my previous picks, check them out at the links below:
2019: Playlist
2018: Playlist