Stereogum's 50 Best Albums of 2015

*Art Angels*’ opening trio of songs present a handy summation of Claire Boucher’s singular appeal. The operatic “Laughing and Not Being Normal” opens before making way for “California”. Ostensibly an irresistible country-twanged foot-tapper and easily the catchiest thing she’s recorded, its lyrics unload a bleak commentary on her industry’s treatment of female stars. Next up: the strident “Scream” featuring Taiwanese rapper Aristophanes and plenty of actual howling. Whether discordant and urgent (“Flesh without Blood”, “Kill V. Maim”) or dazzlingly beautiful (“Easily”, “Pin”), *Art Angels* is a Catherine wheel of ferocious pop invention and Grimes’ grandest achievement.

Thanks to multiple hit singles—and no shortage of critical acclaim—2012’s *good kid, m.A.A.d city* propelled Kendrick Lamar into the hip-hop mainstream. His 2015 follow-up, *To Pimp a Butterfly*, served as a raised-fist rebuke to anyone who thought they had this Compton-born rapper figured out. Intertwining Afrocentric and Afrofuturist motifs with poetically personal themes and jazz-funk aesthetics, *To Pimp A Butterfly* expands beyond the gangsta rap preconceptions foisted upon Lamar’s earlier works. Even from the album’s first few seconds—which feature the sound of crackling vinyl and a faded Boris Gardiner soul sample—it’s clear *To Pimp a Butterfly* operates on an altogether different cosmic plane than its decidedly more commercial predecessor. The album’s Flying Lotus-produced opening track, “Wesley’s Theory,” includes a spoken-word invocation from musician Josef Leimberg and an appearance by Parliament-Funkadelic legend George Clinton—names that give *To Pimp a Butterfly* added atomic weight. Yet Lamar’s lustful and fantastical verses, which are as audacious as the squirmy Thundercat basslines underneath, never get lost in an album packed with huge names. Throughout *To Pimp a Butterfly*, Lamar goes beyond hip-hop success tropes: On “King Kunta,” he explores his newfound fame, alternating between anxiety and big-stepping braggadocio. On “The Blacker the Berry,” meanwhile, Lamar pointedly explores and expounds upon identity and racial dynamics, all the while reaching for a reckoning. And while “Alright” would become one of the rapper’s best-known tracks, it’s couched in harsh realities, and features an anthemic refrain delivered in a knowing, weary rasp that belies Lamar’s young age. He’s only 27, and yet he’s already seen too much. The cast assembled for this massive effort demonstrates not only Lamar’s reach, but also his vast vision. Producers Terrace Martin and Sounwave, both veterans of *good kid, m.A.A.d city*, are among the many names to work behind-the-boards here. But the album also includes turns from everyone from Snoop Dogg to SZA to Ambrose Akinmusire to Kamasi Washington—an intergenerational reunion of a musical diaspora. Their contributions—as well as the contributions of more than a dozen other players—give *To Pimp a Butterfly* a remarkable range: The contemplations of “Institutionalized” benefit greatly from guest vocalists Bilal and Anna Wise, as do the hood parables of “How Much A Dollar Cost,” which features James Fauntleroy and Ronald Isley. Meanwhile, Robert Glasper’s frenetic piano on “For Free? (Interlude)” and Pete Rock’s nimble scratches on “Complexion (A Zulu Love)” give *To Pimp a Butterfly* added energy.

Even as a 20-track double album, this is one of the most cohesive and engaging hip-hop debuts you’ll hear. Against dank, ambitious production overseen by storied beat-smith No I.D., the Long Beach rapper documents a life spent learning the power of fear in a gang quarter with vivid wordplay and uncompromising imagery. “Jump Off the Roof”’s paranoid gospel and the woozy soul thump of “C.N.B.” embody a thrilling opus that values darkness and anxiety over radio-baiting hooks.

Sufjan Stevens has taken creative detours into textured electro-pop, orchestral suites, and holiday music, but *Carrie & Lowell* returns to the feathery indie folk of his quietly brilliant early-’00s albums, like *Michigan* and *Seven Swans*. Using delicate fingerpicking and breathy vocals, songs like “Eugene,” “The Only Thing,” and the Simon & Garfunkel-influenced “No Shade in the Shadow of The Cross” are gorgeous reflections on childhood. When Stevens whispers in multi-tracked harmony over the album’s title track—an impressionistic portrait of his mother and stepfather that glows with nostalgic details—he delivers a haunting centerpiece.

Courtney Barnett\'s 2015 full-length debut established her immediately as a force in independent rock—although she\'d bristle at any sort of hype, as she sneers on the noise-pop gem \"Pedestrian at Best\": \"Put me on a pedestal and I\'ll only disappoint you/Tell me I\'m exceptional, I promise to exploit you.\" Warnings aside, her brittle riffing and deadpan lyrics—not to mention indelible hooks and nagging sense of unease with the world—helped put *Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit* into the upper echelon of 2010s indie rock. The Melbourne-based singer-songwriter stares at stained ceilings and checks out open houses as she reflects on love, death, and the quality of supermarket produce, making *Sometimes* a crowd-pleaser almost in spite of itself. Propulsive tracks like the hip-shaking \"Elevator Operator\" and the squalling \"Dead Fox\" pair Barnett\'s talked-sung delivery with grungy, hooky rave-ups that sound beamed in from a college radio station\'s 1995 top-ten list. Her singing style isn\'t conversational as much as it is like a one-sided phone call from a friend who spends a lot of time in her own head, figuring out the meaning of life in real time while trying to answer the question \"How are you?\"—and sounding captivating every step of the way. But Barnett can also command blissed-out songs that bury pithy social commentary beneath their distorted guitars—\"Small Poppies\" hides notes about power and cruelty within its wobbly chords, while the marvelous \"Depreston\" rolls thoughts on twentysomething thriftiness, half-glimpsed lives, and shifting ideas of \"home\" across its sun-bleached landscape. While the topics of conversation can be heavy, Barnett\'s keen ear for what makes a potent pop song and her inability to be satisfied with herself make *Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit* a fierce opening salvo.

Hop Along has had multiple lives. First conceptualized as a freak-folk solo act by Frances Quinlan, it progressed towards a fuller sound with the addition of Mark Quinlan on drums, Tyler Long on bass and Joe Reinhart (Algernon Cadwallader, Dogs on Acid) on guitar. Emerging as one of music’s most unique songwriters, the captivating vignettes Frances has weaved tell vivid stories of desperation and weary awakening. Their powerful voice is a spellbinding entity all it’s own, celebratory and raw, and one that can’t be shaken away. Like their debut (2012’s Get Disowned), Painted Shut is a series of accounts, a procession of fleeting and repeating characters. However, it diverges from its predecessor in its close-up, controlled approach (most of the album features the band recording live), and more focused portraiture. Whereas Get Disowned calls forth a dreamy collage of protagonists in a tone that’s often anthemic and surreal, Painted Shut is a grounded, less merciful image of many struggling adults (and children) in a severe landscape. Often depicted in Painted Shut are the two lives of legendary (though generally unknown) musicians, Buddy Bolden and Jackson C. Frank, who were plagued with mental illness until their penniless deaths. Included are accounts of more everyday poverty, abuse, greed; and banal, sub-par behavior. Society is unveiled as a structure that, in reality, was most certainly not built with everyone in mind. Clearly this is difficult subject matter. Yet the songs themselves move unencumbered and easily, forming angular pop anti-anthems, at times jubilant as well as irreverent. Somehow, they are not sad songs. There is joy, in the abandon of Frances’ unforgettable voice, in the exulting choruses. One wakes to a sky that is a bright, ageless blue. It’s morning and so clear outside that multitudes of lives can be seen, in focus despite the distance. All of this is viewed through a window sealed with cracked paint that cannot be opened on either side. That is how we must often view the lives of others, especially when it comes to people who have lived and gone from this world. That’s another story. Painted Shut was co-produced, recorded and mixed by John Agnello (Kurt Vile, Dinosaur Jr., Sonic Youth, etc.) in the great cities of Philadelphia and Brooklyn, and incidentally finished in the shortest span of time the band has ever made anything.

I Want to Grow Up, the latest collection of songs from LA songstress Colleen Green, follows a newly 30-year-old Green as she carefully navigates a minefield of emotion. Her firm belief in true love is challenged by the inner turmoil caused by entering modern adulthood, but that doesn't mean that her faith is defeated. This time, she's got a little help from her friends: the full band heard here includes JEFF the Brotherhood's Jake Orrall and Diarrhea Planet's Casey Weissbuch, who collaborated with Green over ten days at Sputnik Sound in Nashville, TN. First press of LPs available on clear wax with a blue/pink swirl. All LPs include a download code.

There ARE no simple songs — only simple people. And since guns don't kill people, "Simple Songs" will have to do. Super-sweet terrorism from our very own latter-day Spector!

Deafheaven’s sublime 2013 album *Sunbather* was an alloy of black metal aggression and shoegaze melodicism as beautiful as it was punishing. Opening with a murmur of ambience before giving way to the sound of church bells and Slayer-like thrash, *New Bermuda* pushes the band’s formula even further, juxtaposing twinkling guitars with searing growls (“Baby Blue”) and lurching, hardcore-style breakdowns with chord progressions that could’ve come from a moody English alt-rock record circa 1988 (“Gifts from the Earth”). It’s an adventurous blend from an extraordinary band.

A wondrous debut from the house producer of indie-pop romantics The xx, *In Colour* is the sound of dance music heard at helicopter height: beautiful, distant, and surprising at every turn. Whether summoning old-school drum ’n’ bass (“Gosh”) or dancehall-inflected pop (the Young Thug and Popcaan double feature “I Know There’s Gonna Be (Good Times)”), the mood here is consummately relaxed, more like a spring morning than a busy night. Laced throughout the thump and sparkle are fragments of recorded conversation and the ambience of city streets—details that make the music feel as though it has a life of its own.

Following his scintillating debut under the Father John Misty moniker—2012’s *Fear Fun*—journeyman singer/songwriter Josh Tillman delivers his most inspired and candid album yet. Filled with gorgeous melodies and grandiose production, *I Love You, Honeybear* finds Tillman applying his immense lyrical gifts to questions of love and intimacy. “Chateau Lobby 4 (In C for Two Virgins)” is a radiant folk tune, burnished by gilded string arrangements and mariachi horn flourishes. Elsewhere, Tillman pushes his remarkable singing voice to new heights on the album’s powerful centerpiece, “When You’re Smiling and Astride Me,” a soulful serenade of epic proportions. “I’d never try to change you,” he sings, clearly moved. “As if I could, and if I were to, what’s the part that I’d miss most?”

*A word about the refurbished deluxe edition 2xLP* With the new repressing of the deluxe, tri-colored vinyl that is now available again for purchase, we ask just one favor that will also serve as your only and final warning: The deluxe, pop-up-art-displaying jacket WILL warp the new vinyl if said vinyl is inserted back into the jacket sleeves and inserted into your record shelf. To prevent this, we ask that you keep the new LPs outside the deluxe jacket, in the separate white jackets that they ship in. Think of these 2 parts of the same deluxe package as “neighbors, not roommates” on your shelf, and your records will remain unwarped for many years to come (assuming you don’t leave them out in extreme temperatures or expose them to other forces of nature that would normally cause a record to warp…)! *The LP is cut at 45 rpm. Please adjust your turntable speed accordingly!* “I Love You, Honeybear is a concept album about a guy named Josh Tillman who spends quite a bit of time banging his head against walls, cultivating weak ties with strangers and generally avoiding intimacy at all costs. This all serves to fuel a version of himself that his self-loathing narcissism can deal with. We see him engaging in all manner of regrettable behavior. “In a parking lot somewhere he meets Emma, who inspires in him a vision of a life wherein being truly seen is not synonymous with shame, but possibly true liberation and sublime, unfettered creativity. These ambitions are initially thwarted as jealousy, self-destruction and other charming human character traits emerge. Josh Tillman confesses as much all throughout. “The album progresses, sometimes chronologically, sometimes not, between two polarities: the first of which is the belief that the best love can be is finding someone who is miserable in the same way you are and the end point being that love isn’t for anyone who isn’t interested in finding a companion to undertake total transformation with. I won’t give away the ending, but sex, violence, profanity and excavations of the male psyche abound. “My ambition, aside from making an indulgent, soulful, and epic sound worthy of the subject matter, was to address the sensuality of fear, the terrifying force of love, the unutterable pleasures of true intimacy, and the destruction of emotional and intellectual prisons in my own voice. Blammo. “This material demanded a new way of being made, and it took a lot of time before the process revealed itself. The massive, deranged shmaltz I heard in my head, and knew had to be the sound of this record, originated a few years ago while Emma and I were hallucinating in Joshua Tree; the same week I wrote the title track. I chased that sound for the entire year and half we were recording. The means by which it was achieved bore a striking resemblance to the travails, abandon and transformation of learning how to love and be loved; see and be seen. There: I said it. Blammo.” -Josh Tillman (A.K.A. Father John Misty) All LP versions are 45 rpm. All purchases come with digital downloads.

Think big, girl, like a king, think kingsize. Jenny Hval’s new record opens with a quote from the Danish poet Mette Moestrup, and continues towards the abyss. Apocalypse, girl is a hallucinatory narrative that exists somewhere between fiction and reality, a post-op fever dream, a colourful timelapse of death and rebirth, close-ups of impossible bodies — all told through the language of transgressive pop music.

Tame Impala may have been forged in the familiar fires of guitar-driven psych-rock, but Kevin Parker began expanding that brief almost immediately, shifting from dank, distorted solos to widescreen, synth-swept fantasias. By the time *Currents* arrived in 2015, the Fremantle home-studio whiz had made his grandest leap yet, offering his particular take on outsized, club-ready pop. That meant mostly sidelining guitars and ramping up the lead role of those synths. Parker had always made Tame Impala records as a solo endeavor, using a proper band primarily to realize songs in a live setting. Yet this third album saw him applying more painstaking control than ever before, not just playing and writing every single part but recording and mixing the entire thing as well. Even fans who had noticed Parker’s increasing pop sensibilities across 2012’s *Lonerism* were somewhat taken aback by *Currents*’ bravura opening statement, “Let It Happen,” an ambitious dance-floor epic that foregrounded glitter-bomb synths and alternately dipping and peaking rhythms. The band’s trajectory changed over the course of a single track, which stretches out over nearly eight minutes and indulges in remix-style record-skipping and lengthy stretches without vocals. Between the disco grooves, Parker still finds time for Tame Impala’s sonic signatures—floaty vocals, soul-searching lyrics, fleeting interludes. As lush as the production is (which you can hear in the joyous vocal layering and panning on “The Moment”), the increased scope of these songs is matched by the same rich emotional content, making it feel like Parker is sharing his most private moments. From the vulnerability displayed on “Yes I’m Changing,” which muses on growing older against unironic soft-rock motifs, to his interrogations of masculinity and romance on “\'Cause I’m a Man,” Parker is still committed to airing intimate, almost diary-like sentiments. Meditative album closer “New Person, Same Old Mistakes” says it all. Still, Parker doesn’t have to distance himself from formative heroes like Todd Rundgren and The Flaming Lips in the name of artistic growth. Evoking the mirror-ball dazzle of roller rinks and discos, here he continues to cherry-pick from the past in order to imagine a sophisticated musical future that’s appealing across multiple fronts but still strikes directly at the heart. And the risky decision to shelve guitars clearly paid off: *Currents* took Tame Impala to the big leagues, where he could now collaborate with Lady Gaga, get covered by Rihanna (a version of “New Person, Same Old Mistakes” appeared as “Same Ol’ Mistakes” on 2016’s *ANTI*), and headline Coachella. It also provided a natural progression to 2020’s *The Slow Rush*, an even more immersive and personal synth-funk odyssey.

*Surf* is the long-awaited collaboration between the unbilled Chance the Rapper, his band The Social Experiment, and musical ally Donnie Trumpet (a.k.a. Nico Segal). Chance gets his time to shine, spitting acrobatic rhymes throughout, but clearly this is a team effort focused on moving minds and butts. Flecks of big-band instrumentation lend sparkle, while folks like Erykah Badu, Busta Rhymes, Janelle Monáe, and Big Sean provide cameos. The vibe is reminiscent of Native Tongues or Soulquarians, a positive space to submit to creative freedom and unpredictable flow, just like the ocean itself.

The hiss of liquid poured over ice, an eerie Metro Boomin guitar line, and a hypnotic rhyme—“Dirty soda, Spike Lee, white girl, Ice T, fully loaded AP”—that sounds like an arcane magic spell: That’s how Future opens his exquisitely toxic third album, right before he casually drops the year’s most twisted footwear-related flex. *DS2* was released during the peak of summer 2015, back when the rapper’s buzz had never been bigger, thanks to the runaway success of his recent mixtape trilogy (*Monster*, *Beast Mode*, *56 Nights*). The triumphant *DS2*—announced the week before its release—would serve as the capstone of Future’s antihero’s journey, one that he spells out on the fiendish “I Serve the Base”: “Tried to make me a pop star/And they made a monster.” The paradox of *DS2*—short for “Dirty Sprite”—is that it’s an album of wall-to-wall rippers dedicated to all sorts of depraved pleasures, over the course of which one begins to suspect its protagonist is having very little fun. “Best thing I ever did was fall out of love,” Future croaks on “Kno the Meaning,” an oral history of his comeback year. And while heartbreak has clearly done wonders for his creativity, the hedonism seems to be having diminishing returns: Never before have dalliances with groupies or strip-club acid trips sounded more like karmic punishments. As a result, the lifestyle captured on *DS2* is better to listen to than to live through, thanks to massive-sounding beats from a murderer’s row of Atlanta producers—including Metro Boomin, Southside, and Zaytoven—that range from “moody” to “downright evil.” Still, whether or not Future sounds happy on *DS2*, he *does* have plenty to celebrate: After all, in less than a year he’d flooded the market with enough top-shelf music to sustain entire careers. As he points out during the conclusion of “Kno the Meaning”: “My hard work finally catching up with perfect timing.”

group for her debut album on the highly credible indie Merge Records and her third under the name Waxahatchee. Bred in Alabama and currently living in Philly to avoid the distracting rents of Brooklyn, Crutchfield sings with the unselfconscious joy that comes with succeeding on your own terms, even when she’s confessing to feelings of worthlessness (“The Dirt,” “<“). She’s part indie pop and part concise troubadour, with a band that supports and never gets in the way. Lyrics feel dreamlike and other times quite sincere and concerned, but the minimalist approach feels freeing.

For their sixth album, Screaming Females work with producer Matt Bayles (Mastodon, Pearl Jam) in place of Steve Albini, who’d produced their previous two albums. The change means a fuller sound without a slick neutering of the band. “Broken Neck,” “Hopeless,” and the title track benefit from a powerful guitar tone and having Marissa Paternoster’s vocals securely in the mix. The harmonies, in particular, take on dramatic color. The New Jersey–based power trio succeed by never overdoing their parts, leaving just enough room for the sound to resonate beyond its initial station. *Rose Mountain* refines the trio’s attack to keep things interesting. 

Harpist and singer/songwriter Joanna Newsom’s idiosyncratic take on folk and Americana has always been a powerful—if polarizing—experience. Her fourth album strikes a balance between the ornate orchestral explorations of 2006’s *Ys* and the more stripped-down confessions of 2010’s *Have One on Me*. She blends labyrinthine wordplay (“Bleach a collar/Leach a dollar/From our cents/The longer you live, the higher the rent”) and obscure subject matter (the names of Lenape villages on what is now New York City) into songs that are passionate, sincere, and surprisingly immediate.

After a 12-year break between studio albums, Blur remain as intrepid and inventive as they’ve ever been. *The Magic Whip* finds the Britpop icons reuniting with a collection that\' s both wonderfully familiar and endlessly surprising. “Lonesome Street” kicks off with the ecstatic crunch of guitar and then takes on new colors and textures, with psychedelic synth flourishes and kooky harmonies. While the gleefully distorted “I Broadcast” buzzes and roars, the melancholy sway of “New World Towers” and the serpentine soul of “My Terracotta Heart” leave a haunting afterglow.

By their third album, Tribulation had completed their transition from a brilliantly talented Swedish death-metal band into something less easily classifiable. *The Children of the Night* saw the band fully embracing the gothic tendencies that began emerging on 2013’s *The Formulas of Death* while threading black metal and darkly infectious rock. Sinister and elegant, the album’s dazzling guitar acrobatics, eerie piano melodies, and mystical atmosphere—contrasted by the sepulchral vocals of bassist Johannes Andersson —helped the young Swedes become a unique entity.

Drake surprised everyone at the beginning of 2015 when he dropped *If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late*, an impressive 17-track release that combines the contemplative and confrontational with plenty of cavernous production from longtime collaborator Noah “40” Shebib. While Drizzy joins mentor Lil Wayne in questioning the loyalty of old friends on the woozy, Wondagurl-produced “Used To,” “Energy” is the cold-blooded highlight—on which he snarls, “I got enemies.” Later, amid the electrifying barbs of “6PM in New York,” Drake considers his own mortality and legacy: “28 at midnight. I wonder what’s next for me.”

Simmering with slow-burning soul, Natalie Prass’ debut features sophisticated arrangements supported by strings and a horn section. Gorgeous melodies and memorable hooks grace its nine songs and give the album a cohesive mood. Standout tracks like “Bird of Prey” and “Your Fool” play like a cross between Dusty Springfield and classic Philly soul without sounding overtly retro. Her understated, intimate voice is both delicate and darkly sly, a perfect pairing to the sensibilities of producer Matthew E. White and the Spacebomb Records house band. The result is an impressive and assured debut that deserves close attention.

The peerless indie trio’s first LP in a decade is 33 minutes of pure, lean, honest-to-goodness rock. Corin Tucker is in full command of her howitzer of a voice on standouts like “Surface Envy.” Carrie Brownstein’s haughty punk sneer leads the glorious “A New Wave.” Janet Weiss’ masterful drumming navigates the songwriting’s hairpin tonal shifts, from the glittering “Hey Darling” to the turbulent album closer, “Fade.\" *No Cities to Love* is an electrifying step forward for one of the great American rock bands.

“We sound possessed on these songs,” says guitarist/vocalist Carrie Brownstein about Sleater-Kinney’s eighth studio album, No Cities to Love. “Willing it all–the entire weight of the band and what it means to us–back into existence.” The new record is the first in 10 years from the acclaimed trio–Brownstein, vocalist/guitarist Corin Tucker, and drummer Janet Weiss–who came crashing out of the ’90s Pacific Northwest riot grrrl scene, setting a new bar for punk’s political insight and emotional impact. Formed in Olympia, WA in 1994, Sleater-Kinney were hailed as “America’s best rock band” by Greil Marcus in Time Magazine, and put out seven searing albums in 10 years before going on indefinite hiatus in 2006. But the new album isn’t about reminiscing, it’s about reinvention–the ignition of an unparalleled chemistry to create new sounds and tell new stories. “I always considered Corin and Carrie to be musical soulmates in the tradition of the greats,” says Weiss, whose drums fuel the fire of Tucker and Brownstein’s vocal and guitar interplay. “Something about taking a break brought them closer, desperate to reach together again for their true expression.” The result is a record that grapples with love, power and redemption without restraint. “The three of us want the same thing,” says Weiss. “We want the songs to be daunting.” Produced by long-time Sleater-Kinney collaborator John Goodmanson, who helmed many of the band’s earlier albums including 1997 breakout set Dig Me Out, No Cities to Love is indeed formidable from the first beat. Lead track “Price Tag” is a pounding anthem about greed and the human cost of capitalism, establishing both the album’s melodic drive and its themes of power and powerlessness–giving voice, as Tucker says, to those who “struggle to be heard against the dominant culture or status quo.” “Bury Our Friends” has Tucker and Brownstein joining vocal forces, locking arms to defeat a pressing fear of insignificance. It’s also emblematic of the band’s give and take, and commitment to working and reworking each song until it’s as strong as it can be. “‘Bury Our Friends’ was written in the 11th hour,” says Tucker. “Carrie had her great chime-y guitar riff, but we had gone around in circles with how to make that part into a cohesive song. I think Carrie finally cracked the chorus idea and yelled, ‘Sing with me!’” “A New Wave” similarly went through many iterations during the writing process, with five or six potential choruses, before crystallizing. It enters with an insistent guitar riff, and a battle between acceptance and defiance–“Every day I throw a little party,” howls Brownstein, “but a fit would be more fitting.” The album’s meditative title track was inspired by the trend of atomic tourism and its function as a metaphor for someone enthralled and impressed by power. “That form of power, that presence, is not only destructive it’s also hollowed-out, past its prime,” says Brownstein. “The character in that song has made a ritual out of seeking structures and people in which to find strength, yet they keep coming up empty.” Sleater-Kinney’s decade apart made room for family and other fruitful collaborations, as well as an understanding of what the band’s singular chemistry demands. “Creativity is about where you want your blood to flow, because in order to do something meaningful and powerful there has to be life inside of it,” says Brownstein. “Sleater-Kinney isn’t something you can do half-assed or half-heartedly. We have to really want it. This band requires a certain desperation, a direness. We have to be willing to push because the entity that is this band will push right back.” “The core of this record is our relationship to each other, to the music, and how all of us still felt strongly enough about those to sweat it out in the basement and to try and reinvent our band,” adds Tucker. With No Cities to Love, “we went for the jugular.” –Evie Nagy

watch "Beautiful Blue Sky" music vid --> www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-KdrAVh52I

The former Drive-By Trucker delivers his most diverse album yet in *Something More Than Free*, a beautifully observed and finely conceived collection of windswept rock that finds the singer/songwriter exploring questions of place and identity. While “Speed Trap Town” perfectly captures the feeling of growing up in rural America, “24 Frames” ponders faith and family—all with the lyrical acuity of Townes Van Zandt and the melodic aplomb of Tom Petty.

Horrendous' third full-length album. Cover art by Brian Smith. Produced at Subterranean Watchtower Studios in the summer of 2015. We are all very proud of the album and feel it is our best work to date. While our composition process has always been spread out over several separated writing-specific sessions, one thing that separates Anareta from our past work is our recording process. We recorded all the songs over one continuous period (the recording sessions for The Chills and Ecdysis were more spread out)–Matt and Jamie stayed at Damian’s house/studio for weeks on end and the three of us lived, breathed and dreamed of nothing but the album during that time. It was our entire lives for over a month (two months if you include the mixing and mastering stage), and we think this complete dedication to the record is one of the factors that really made it turn out so well. There was a lot of magic in the air once we finished the foundation of the record, and each day we built off of the prior day’s creative energies and inspirations until it bloomed into something immense.

The most ambitious jazz album to arrive in ages, Los Angeles saxophonist/composer Kamasi Washington\'s debut clocks in at 174 minutes—with never a dull moment. While his flawless 10-piece band already packs a wallop, thanks to their doubled basses and drums, Washington embellishes them with a string section and angelic choir. Like his luminous playing on Kendrick Lamar’s *To Pimp a Butterfly*, Washington solos with power and grace here. Versions of \"Cherokee\" and Terence Blanchard\'s \"Malcolm\'s Theme\" nod to jazz tradition, but it\'s originals like \"Change of the Guard\" that signal his truly epic aspirations.

The story begins with a man on high. He is an old man, a warrior, and the guardian to the gates of a city. Two miles below his mountainous perch, he observes a dojo, where a group of young men train night and day. Eventually, the old man expects a challenger to emerge. He hopes for the day of his destruction, for this is the cycle of life. Finally the doors fly open and three young men burst forth to challenge the old master. The first man is quick, but not strong enough. The second is quick, and strong, but not wise enough. The third stands tall, and overtakes the master. The Changing of the Guard has at long last been achieved. But then the old man wakes up. He looks down at the dojo and realizes he’s been daydreaming. The dojo below exists, but everyone in training is yet a child. By the time they grow old enough to challenge the old man, he has disappeared. This is, in essence, both a true story and a carefully constructed musical daydream, one that will further unfold in May of 2015, in a brazen release from young Los Angeles jazz giant, composer, and bandleader Kamasi Washington. The Epic is unlike anything jazz has seen, and not just because it emanates from the... more credits released October 2, 2015 Recorded at King Size Sound Labs. Engineered by Tony Austin, Chris Constable and Brian Rosemeyer. Mixed by Benjamin Tierney. Mastered by Stephen Marcussen at Marcussen Mastering.

This debut from brothers Swae Lee and Slim Jimmy, a.k.a. Rae Sremmurd, proves that Southern hip-hop is as bumping and irreverent as ever. This is the soundtrack to delinquency; its roiling low end and chopped-up beats foreground the antics of the devil-may-care protagonists. Whether it\'s praising the local gentlemen\'s club on the Minaj feature \"Throw Sum Mo\" or comparing themselves to Donald Trump, these boys just wanna have fun.

“Don’t remove my pain / It is my chance to heal.” Delivered in a wounded cry of desperation, this lyric—from standout track “Notget”—is emblematic of Björk’s profoundly vulnerable ninth studio album. Given sonic texture by her lush string arrangements and the skittering beats of co-producer Arca, *Vulnicura* was written in response to the dissolution of Björk’s longtime relationship with artist Matthew Barney. Following the cosmically conceptual *Biophilia* (2011), it’s disarming yet reassuring to hear the Icelandic icon’s stratospheric voice wailing bluntly about recognizable human emotions. In the vibrant album closer “Quicksand,” she sings of finding new life through heartache: “The steam from this pit / Will form a cloud / For her to live on.”

An album by Will Toledo

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Retreating from the garage snarl of 2013’s Monomania to the gauzy, melodic textures of 2010’s *Halcyon Digest*, Deerhunter have made their warmest record yet. The psychedelic swoops of “Breaker”, synth pulse of “Ad Astra” and lysergic funk of “Snakeskin” all expertly find the biting point between invention and accessibility. The gorgeous sonics are regularly just a salve for caustic lyrics though, and Bradford Cox’s outsider spirit rages with paranoia and self-laceration throughout.

Nashville’s one-man hit factory presses pause on the production line for a soulful solo debut. 13 years in the writing, the tracks on *Traveller* possess choruses as effortlessly infectious as anything Stapleton has gifted to high profile clients like Adele and Luke Bryan but there’s a fascinating desperation to the themes here. From the wild, sleepless delirium at the heart of “Parachute” to the bandit bluegrass on “Outlaw State of Mind”, this is country rock that’s unafraid to explore drink, drugs, and a very dark underbelly.

Produced & mixed by Nicolas Vernhes & Speedy Ortiz Engineered by Gabe Wax at Rare Book Room, Brooklyn, NY Mastered by Emily Lazar & assisted by Chris Allgood at The Lodge, New York, NY Art by Sadie Dupuis Art photography & craft support by Caitlin Bechtel All songs by Sadie Dupuis/ July Was Hot (BMI) ©2015 Carpark Records CAK 103 Buy this IRL: store.carparkrecords.com/products/543382-cak103-speedy-ortiz-foil-deer

Drilling down on the extremes of the *Cassette* EP, the first full-length from Viet Cong (later to be known as Preoccupations) is an inspired mix of gritty and beautiful, pairing fractured blasts of noise with plush synths (“Newspaper Spoons”) and deadpan vocals with striking lattices of guitar (“Bunker Buster”)—a sound that shouldn’t make as much sense as it does. Best of all is “March of Progress,” which opens with nearly three minutes of industrial wheezing before ascending to a breathless (and surprisingly catchy) rave-up—a high point on an album full of them.

Recorded in a barn-turned-studio in rural Ontario, the seven songs that make up 'Viet Cong' were born largely on the road, when Flegel and bandmates Mike Wallace, Scott Munro and Daniel Christiansen embarked on a 50-date tour that stretched virtually every limit imaginable. Close quarters hastened their exhaustion but also honed them as a group. You can designate records as seasonal, and you can feel Preoccupations's bleakness and declare it wintry. But the only way you get a frost is when there's something warmer to freeze up. So yes, 'Viet Cong' is a winter album, but only until it is a spring record, then a summer scorcher, then an autumn burner, then it ices over again.

On their fifth album, Beach House don\'t veer too far from their template: beautifully spare, sun-bleached ditties that belie their often-dreary subject matter. Sure, there’s a blown-out guitar here (the pleasantly noisy “Sparks”), or a breathy spoken word there (“PPP,” replete with Cocteau Twins-style guitar), but the duo\'s MO remains: “If it ain’t broke . . .” The creeping organ tones and Victoria Legrand\'s gauzy croon are so luxuriant, you almost forget that these are still sad songs—and it’s in that balance of light and dark that they reliably stick the landing.

*Customers outside of North America, please try Bella Union in Europe/UK or Mistletone Records in Australia/NZ. Thanks! Beach House is Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally. We have been a band for over a decade living and working in Baltimore, MD. Depression Cherry is our 5th full-length record and was recorded at Studio in the Country in Bogalusa, Louisiana from November ’14 through January ’15. This time period crossed the anniversaries of both John Lennon’s and Roy Orbison’s death. In general, this record shows a return to simplicity, with songs structured around a melody and a few instruments, with live drums playing a far lesser role. With the growing success of Teen Dream and Bloom, the larger stages and bigger rooms naturally drove us towards a louder, more aggressive place; a place farther from our natural tendencies. Here, we continue to let ourselves evolve while fully ignoring the commercial context in which we exist.

Bold experimentalism is key for Californian Julia Holter. Her third album is a melange of thoughtful, alternative approaches to pop. “Feel You”’s harpsichord jauntiness and skittish drums provide the idea platform for the album’s textual tapestry. Syncopated jazz (“Vazquez”), hypnotic shanties (“Sea Calls Me Home”) and aching torch songs (“How Long?” and “Night Song”) all follow, but the tone—while opulent, rich and dramatic—never feels false. “Silhouette” is a gorgeously off-kilter, while “Betsy on the Roof” builds from barely a whisper.

Have You In My Wilderness is Julia Holter’s most intimate album yet, a collection of radiant ballads. Her follow-up to 2013’s widely celebrated Loud City Song explores love, trust, and power in human relationships. While love songs are familiar fodder in pop music, Holter manages to stay fascinatingly oblique and enigmatic on her new album. Have You in My Wilderness is also Holter’s most sonically intimate album. Here, she and producer Cole Marsden Greif-Neill lift her voice out of the layers of smeared, hazy effects, putting her vocals front and center in the mix. The result is striking—it sounds as if Holter is singing right in your ear. It sounds clear and vivid, but also disarmingly personal. The focused warm sound and instrumentation — dense strings, subtle synth pads — adds to the effect. Like Holter’s previous albums, Have You in My Wilderness is multi-layered and texturally rich, featuring an array of electronic and acoustic instruments played by an ensemble of gifted Los Angeles musicians. Have You In My Wilderness deals with dark themes, but it also features some of the most sublime and transcendent music Holter has ever written. The ten songs on the album are shimmering and dreamlike, wandering the liminal space between the conscious and the subconscious.