Heartache With Hard Work

My dominant theme of 2018 in music: tears. Songs that make you cry. Songs that insist on moving beyond crying. Music of redemption, of hope, of deep and untrammeled empathy. The struggle to cope with a world that continues to hand us unending suffering. The struggle to articulate the feelings of love and unity that come from staring into your child’s eyes for the first time.

As always, these are just my favorites. I make no claim that they were objectively the best. One song per artist.

50. Bad Guy – Hatchie

I spent a lot of time this summer walking around Berkeley, and this song was a regular companion on those strolls. It’s great music for wandering.

49. Daydream – Nancy Sin

There’s a timelessness here, an expression of innocence that lives on, stubbornly refusing to accede to the slings and arrows of fortune, holding out for the possibility of finding a way to stay present.

48. Reprieval – Eternal Summers

A deep breath. A hand to a cheek. A whispered goodbye.

47. Soft – Babygirl

If this had been released a couple decades ago, it probably would have been categorized as adult contemporary. These days, with our micro-niches, it’s probably luscious indie dreampop. Whatever the label, it goes down smooth and sweet.

46. The Saddest Little Waffle House in Eastern Pennsylvania – Worriers

I slept on the Worriers album last year, so failed to include it on last year’s list. Fortunately, they released an expanded version this year with a couple new songs, so I can at least partially rectify my mistake.

45. When I’m With Him – Empress Of

The effervescent beat and falsetto chorus balance against a deeply depressing lyric – about the sense of self-doubt and recrimination that comes from realizing that you don’t love someone the way they need to be loved. And the way you torture yourself trying to figure out what you did wrong to feel this way.

44. People Get Old – Lori McKenna

I don’t know if it’s just a function of where I’m at in life, but “you still think he’s forty-five and he still thinks that you’re a kid” strikes me as a genuinely cosmic line – reflecting a sort of deep truth that we all eventually have to face, which will feel brand new to everyone when they first encounter it, for all that it’s utterly universal.

43. Stranger – Frøkedal

Delightfully off-kilter: this song struts out from the Norwegian forests, ready to dance across the water and out to the deep blue ocean, leaving behind just a hint of stardust.

42. To My Dearest Wife – Lucero

A heartfelt rock song, from a band that’s written more than a few of them in their time.

41. Murmured Hymn for Defocused Eyes – Dustings

Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince: And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

40. Halls of Sarah – Neko Case

Neko Case has run out of fucks to give, and she is here to let you know.

39. Me & My Dog – Boygenius

I have to admit that I didn’t quite love the boygenius record the way I expected. It seems impossible, given how universally I adore everything Phoebe Bridgers touches – and how much I also like both Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker. But for whatever reason, the record as a whole kind of fell flat for me. Still, this song is undeniable.

38. Leave Him Now – Cloud Nothings

Cloud Nothings took a major step back toward their roots, after experimenting with a far more melodic (and occasionally spiritual) turn last year. In some cases, that made for a listening experience more abrasive than I really wanted. But on this track, the stripped back structure and frenetic energy works perfectly.

37. Unconditional Waltz – Calexico

A quiet afternoon on the porch. Chatting about nothing. Watching the condensation pool around the edge of your glass of iced tea. Taking pleasure in every moment you get to share with your loved ones.

36. The Parting Glass – Rosanne Cash

Cash is one of the great American songwriters, so it feels a little strange to say it but…my favorite song on this record is this old Irish ballad from the 18th century, which is only available on the deluxe addition. Good night and joy be with you all, indeed.

35. Under the Blue / Take Me In – Hayley Kiyoko

Hayley Kiyoko is the pop star America needs.

34. It’s a Shame – First Aid Kit

A mediocre song can often be saved by a great chorus. This is one of the rare songs that works in the opposite direction. There’s barely a chorus to speak of, and what is there feels a touch underthought and underworked. But the verses are just so pure and so bright that it doesn’t really matter.

33. Doesn’t Matter – Christine and the Queens

A pop masterpiece about the experience of existential doubt, and the status of feminine life in a universe that makes their very existence precarious.

32. Ginger Lizard – opiuo

A ridiculously catchy song, which feels like it should be playing at 3:30 in the morning in some New Orleans funk joint, with a bunch of sweaty bodies moving in unison.

31. Forte – Zoe Keating

This song makes me feel the way I feel when I go to the airport to pick up a loved one that I haven’t seen in far too long. And the moment around 1:25 when the strings swell is when they turn the corner and your eyes meet and you both break out into uncontrollable smiles.

30. Missing U – Robyn

I love that Robyn made the sort of record that she did, which is complex and interesting and wonderful. That said, I can’t help but selfishly wish she’d made an album that bopped a little bit more. As it ended up, I respected Honey a lot more than I actually listened to it. With this song being the significant exception.

29. Miles Away – Josh Ritter

While we’re waiting on the next full length – which sounds like it’s going to be a great one – this is a lovely standalone track. A beautifully simple piano line provides the structure for Ritter to reflect on the distance between us, and the tiny gestures we make to try and reach across that void.

28. Trapper Man – Mark Knopfler

In my 11th grade American literature class, we watched the classic miniseries Centennial–26 hours detailing the history of a spot on the South Platte on the plains of Colorado, from the time before the arrival of Europeans right up until the present day. It was a formative experience for me, and went a long way to explaining my love for American history ever since. Trapper Man feels like a time capsule of the sort you get from Centennial: a story of a man living life on the edges of civilization…and the ways in which that civilization inevitably profits from even those who seek to escape it.

27. Dark Spring – Beach House

I had no idea that what I needed from Beach House in 2018 was a dark and stormy shoegaze number, but I’m certainly glad that it’s what we got.

26. Black Waves / Silver Moon – Phosphorescent

Voyager 1 was launched in 1977. In late 2012, it reached the interstellar medium. Eventually, its systems will shut down and we will lose contact with it. But it won’t stop moving. Its long, cold journey will continue down through the eons, as it moves achingly slow out into the galaxy. Waiting for the day, the infinitesimally unlikely day, when someone, somewhere, might discover it. And wonder where it came from.

25. Django Jane – Janelle Monáe

Every track on Dirty Computer has its partisans. For me, Django Jane is the best track. It’s an anthem which is both intensely personal and completely universal. But its universality is very much on her terms. In describing her own experiences, she invites the listener to see themselves through her eyes, and in that mirroring to understand the ways in which unthinking calls to solidarity often quickly strip away the specific–particularly when that specific form is black, queer, female.

24. Future Me Hates Me – The Beths

Pretty much a perfect power pop song about the classic subject of falling in love, but here the focus is entirely on the heartbreaks and trauma it’s almost certainly going to provoke. There’s something delightful about that.

23. What’s The Deal With David? – Oh Pep!

A glorious slice of indie pop, ready to warm your soul and soothe your fraying heart. The engine of the song is a rollicking little bass line, which is then surrounded by a waterfall of ringing notes. Add in some wonderful vocal harmonies, and what’s quite possibly the year’s most infectious chorus, and the whole thing glitters like a rainbow peaking out after the storm.

22. Rear View – GABBY’S WORLD

Formerly going under the name Eskimeaux, Gabrielle Smith changed the name to Gabby’s World, but the music is very much the same. Simple structures layered on top of one another to produce songs that feel like they’re dancing across whitewater rapids–constantly on the very of capsizing but still managing to (just about) stay afloat.

21. Best Years of My Life – Pistol Annies

It felt impossible to pick a single song from Pistol Annies, who quite literally had seven or eight songs I seriously considered here. But at the end of the day I went with Best Years of My Life, because it’s the one that most perfectly combines the two themes from their record: soul-crushing sadness and wry perseverance. There are songs on the album that make me cry, and others that make me smile. This one does both.

20. Your Song – Rita Ora

Technically this is from 2017 but despite being a huge smash last summer, I never really gave it any attention until the full album came out this year.  The key to the song is the slight catch in her voice – which communicates a powerful impulse to flee. The lyrics tell a story of someone who’s more than a little blindsided to find herself falling in love, which could come off as a bit trite. But Ora completely sells it.

19. Waste (feat. Lady Chann) – Lily Allen

My favorite Lily Allen song in the better part of a decade. It springs from the same blending of reggae and pop that has served her well in the past, but the production is brighter here, and the addition of Lady Chann in the final minute is the match that’s needed to get the fire truly started.

18. Up From Below – Remember Sports

Imagine someone riding a unicycle atop a high wire, while juggling six balls, which are all on fire. That’s what this song sounds like. Except imagine they’re going about 150 miles per hour.

17. Driving – Grouper

I don’t know what this song is about, but I’m certain it’s the most important and most beautiful thing in the world. That’s how I feel about every Grouper song, really, but this one is particularly piercing.

16. Lost (feat. Chelsea Jade) – Jai Wolf

A song that manages to simultaneously feel dreamy and anthemic, it’s a call to the dancefloor for those who feel adrift in the world and desperately want to feel the connection and joy that music can bring.

15. Fight – Vanessa Peters

That moment you gather together your resolve, pick yourself up off the floor, and take that next step. You know it won’t be easy. You know the rewards will be far away, if they ever come at all. But you simply decide “this moment, right here, I will be my better self.”

14. Ganja Burn – Nicki Minaj

This almost certainly isn’t the *best* song from Queen, but it’s without a doubt my favorite. I’ve always enjoyed Nicki Minaj most when she was bulldozing through a pop song with some high octane rapping, and this is a nice variant–more chill, but still viciously delivered.

13. Now or Never Now – Metric

I didn’t love much on the new Metric album, but this song was a massive exception. It’s right up there with the best that Emily Haines has ever produced. A song so big that to call it an anthem feels like a decent understatement. And still, for all that, it isn’t really a song about climaxes, but rather about a measured, persistent demand: to live forever or die in the attempt.

12. No Tears Left to Cry – Ariana Grande

2018 was the year of Ariana Grande, and I don’t know how anyone could feel anything but joy for her. To have gone through so much, and to have emerged on the other side with this kind of giving spirit is astonishing. Thank U, Next was the song that finally took her to #1, and it’s a great song, but this was the one that hit me hardest in the feelings.

11. Heart To Break – Kim Petras

That feeling when you watch a magician do a trick over and over, and you know that it’s just sleight-of-hand and anyone could learn how to do it with enough practice, but it just doesn’t matter because it’s so unbelievably delightful. This song feels like it could have been designed in some Swedish pop laboratory to produce maximum head-bopping, but I do not care even a little bit. Screw authenticity. Give me the sugar.

10. The Mother – Brandi Carlile

I’m not sure she’s written another song as beautiful as this one. Certainly none as likely to bring a tear to your eye. It’s a love letter to her daughter, one framed by a bracingly honest assessment of what it actually means to become a parent.

9. Still Life (Audiotree) – Katie Ellen

The studio version is good. This version absolutely kills me. The bit when her voice just slightly starts to break at 1:59…pure shivers.

8. Set It Free – Now, Now

SGL is the best song from the album, but I already included it on my 2017 list, so I’ll go for the second-best, which is almost as good. The unsung hero is the bass, which transforms a shimmery song into a propulsive missile fired directly into your heart.

7. Full Control – Snail Mail

The ingredients are incredibly simple, but as any chef will tell you, trying to cook with simple ingredients is often the most dangerous thing, because there’s absolutely nothing to hide behind. If she didn’t stick the landing, this could all come across as trite. But she absolutely, perfectly does, and so it comes across as god’s own truth.

6. Doom and Gloom – DARK TIMES

“It’s not gonna be alright, it’s not gonna be fine. There’s no silver lining, it’s all doom and gloom.” It is certainly a mood.

5. O.M.G. (I’m All Over It) – Jenn Champion

Probably my favorite song from Jenn Champion, which is really saying something considering her contributions to one of my all-time favorite bands. But this sounds very little like her stripped down heartsick songs with Carissa’s Weird. Instead, it’s a velvet-smooth synth pop classic.

4. Demon and Division – Alkaline Trio

Twenty years into their career, and I suddenly have a new favorite Alkaline Trio song. That heavy bass! The vocal interplay! The bridge from Andriano that drops in toward the end and amps up the energy to another level!

3. Rainbow – Kacey Musgraves

In a year with plenty of tear-jerkers, I think this may be the one that hit me the hardest. It’s such an impossibly simple song, but there is so much beauty in that simplicity. When she sings it, you can believe it. Maybe it really will be alright.

2. The Opener – CAMP COPE

Equal parts rage and joy. Rage at a world of blatant injustice, filled with men who are utterly incapable of grasping the privileges they wield. But also joy: at the sheer audacity of creation and the righteous noise they can make. It would be a great song for any era, but feels absolutely essential in 2018.

1. Prodigal Dog – Hilary Woods

It seems insufficient to describe this song as haunting. It weaves itself around you, whispering promises of a world beyond our own. And if you tilt your head just right, you can almost see the veil between realities shimmering in the light. What lies on the other side? Do we dare to step across? That way lies madness…but also maybe redemption?

It’s always fraught to describe a record as ‘mature.’ Even with the best of intentions, the word conveys a certain listlessness. Artists make ‘mature’ records when the vibrant, provocative energy that used to drive them has faded away, we tend to think.

But in spite of the danger, I want to take the risk and say that Foxhole Prayers, the latest from (longtime favorite of the blog) Vanessa Peters, is a mature record. That doesn’t mean there’s no fun here, and it certainly doesn’t mean that there’s no energy. But it would be impossible to think seriously about these songs without drifting into a contemplation of mortality, morality, and all things in between. And it’s a record that demands some serious thinking.

Peters has always had a wonderful capacity to communicate oceans of meaning with a single deft phrase. Her songs are filled with people who lead rich lives who are merely drifting past for the moment, like rafters on the old Mississippi who wave from a distance as the river carries them slowly over the horizon.

All that ability is still in evidence here. And yet, this record feels different. These songs do not glide by; they pull up to the shore, set up shop, and urge you to come forward. Hear the news. Because these are songs with purpose, which seek to illuminate, perhaps even persuade. They are deft, able to argue without ever coming across as didactic, and introspective. They are also urgent, defined by a sense of dread at the conditions of our world, but also infused with a deep and generous hope. More than anything, it’s a record that challenges us to stop being careless: to take ourselves and our country seriously. To feel compassion, even when the pain threatens to drive us mad. To do something, no matter how small, to make the world a kinder place.

All of which is to say: this is a powerfully topical record, one very much centered in 2018. But it’s also a timeless record. Because time is a great wheel and there’s nothing truly new under the sun. So if we want to understand why there is so much pain, we have to look inside, to seek out those parts of ourselves that we keep hidden for fear of what they might reveal. The dark parts, where fear dominates and suspicion reigns. But also the parts that remain hidden because we’ve never truly needed. Reservoirs of hope, compassion, faith, and resolve. We run from all of these pieces, both the dark and the light, because life is so much simpler without them. But in the end, she says in the final track, we are all “what we can’t outrun.” For good and for bad.

The theme is touched on in many of the songs. “Foxhole Prayers” describes the universality of loss, the way that pain drives us to a sense of self understanding. And the terrible combination of hope and despair that fuses together in these moments. Meanwhile, “Fight” describes the aftermath, when you gather together your resolve, get up off the floor, and take that next determined step.  “Just One of Them” describes the feeling of discovering yourself to be a fraud—a false prophet to values that you aren’t truly willing to defend. It asks us to consider: what would you fight for, against all odds? What would you sacrifice? It’s a terrible question, and an important one.

This is a dark record, but it’s not a cynical one. Nor is it joyless. It asks big, important questions, but does so with an incredible generosity, and playfulness. It’s a room with a fire and a warm meal for a weary traveler on the road. An offer to listen, in a world full of people all too ready to talk. A restless spirit pacing long into the night. And a challenge to all of us to remember: those who are careless with the hearts of others will often find great success, but they will rarely find satisfaction.

Nicki Minaj is the Queen, with all the good and bad that implies. In this case, it means an album that could have used some heavy editing, but which still contains enough pieces of genius to deserve serious attention. Because at the end of the day, Minaj is an exciting artist precisely because she’s willing to take on so many roles, so many perspectives, so many chances.

And if the final product is a little overstuffed, it just means every listener is free to construct their own 11 track ‘just the good bits’ version of Queen. For me, that means shying away from a lot of the processed pop stuff, which mostly falls pretty flat to my ears. But my condensed Queen is filled with gems, starting with the opener Ganja Burn – the chillest diss track I’ve heard in a long time – and the gloriously meta Barbie Dreams. The middle is held up by the beautiful Bed, a collaboration with Ariana Grande, the strutting Chun-Li and the compact aggression of Good Form. And it’s all brought together at the end by the blissed out breakup anthem of Nip Tuck and the I’ll-see-my-way-out torch song Come See About Me.