The Economist's Best Albums of 2024

It’s no surprise that “PARTYGIRL” is the name Charli xcx adopted for the DJ nights she put on in support of *BRAT*. It’s kind of her brand anyway, but on her sixth studio album, the British pop star is reveling in the trashy, sugary glitz of the club. *BRAT* is a record that brings to life the pleasure of colorful, sticky dance floors and too-sweet alcopops lingering in the back of your mouth, fizzing with volatility, possibility, and strutting vanity (“I’ll always be the one,” she sneers deliciously on the A. G. Cook- and Cirkut-produced opening track “360”). Of course, Charli xcx—real name Charlotte Aitchison—has frequently taken pleasure in delivering both self-adoring bangers and poignant self-reflection. Take her 2022 pop-girl yet often personal concept album *CRASH*, which was preceded by the diaristic approach of her excellent lockdown album *how i’m feeling now*. But here, there’s something especially tantalizing in her directness over the intoxicating fumes of hedonism. Yes, she’s having a raucous time with her cool internet It-girl friends, but a night out also means the introspection that might come to you in the midst of a party, or the insurmountable dread of the morning after. On “So I,” for example, she misses her friend and fellow musician, the brilliant SOPHIE, and lyrically nods to the late artist’s 2017 track “It’s Okay to Cry.” Charli xcx has always been shaped and inspired by SOPHIE, and you can hear the influence of her pioneering sounds in many of the vocals and textures throughout *BRAT*. Elsewhere, she’s trying to figure out if she’s connecting with a new female friend through love or jealousy on the sharp, almost Uffie-esque “Girl, so confusing,” on which Aitchison boldly skewers the inanity of “girl’s girl” feminism. She worries she’s embarrassed herself at a party on “I might say something stupid,” wishes she wasn’t so concerned about image and fame on “Rewind,” and even wonders quite candidly about whether she wants kids on the sweet sparseness of “I think about it all the time.” In short, this is big, swaggering party music, but always with an undercurrent of honesty and heart. For too long, Charli xcx has been framed as some kind of fringe underground artist, in spite of being signed to a major label and delivering a consistent run of albums and singles in the years leading up to this record. In her *BRAT* era, whether she’s exuberant and self-obsessed or sad and introspective, Charli xcx reminds us that she’s in her own lane, thriving. Or, as she puts it on “Von dutch,” “Cult classic, but I still pop.”

“This album is the sound of release, the story of a world tour condensed into one night out,” Ezra Collective bandleader Femi Koleoso tells Apple Music. “It moves from getting into the club to sussing the vibe, losing yourself to the music and feeling its euphoria. The dance floor is full of the highs and lows of life and that’s what we’re channeling.” After the London-based quintet became the first jazz act to win the Mercury Music Prize for their 2022 album *Where I’m Meant to Be*, their follow-up arrives with a dance-floor-focused bang. Featuring the band’s typical blend of jazz improvisation with West African rhythm, Afrobeat horns, and fizzing, upbeat energy, the 19 tracks of *Dance, No One’s Watching* inspire infectious movement. Written during a triumphant 2023 world tour, the record encompasses the fanfares of “The Herald,” gentle highlife rhythms on “Palm Wine,” hip-hop swing on “Streets Is Calling,” and emotive neo-soul on “Why I Smile.” “We’re questioning what ‘dance music’ actually means, since everything from klezmer to reggae and waltzes make you dance,” Koleoso says. “This album is an honest expression of all the things that move us.” Read on for Koleoso’s in-depth thoughts on a selection of songs from the album. **“The Herald”** “The word ‘herald’ means ‘bringer of joy’ and that’s what the dance floor brings to us. Ezra Collective has a mandate to bring joy when we play live and it’s what makes our shows feel so connected. We wanted to start the record deliberately with this battle cry. It’s a big shout, a manifesto of what you need to hear when you’re first getting on the dance floor. The right amount of joy will shatter your insecurities.” **“Palm Wine”** “West African highlife is a strong influence for us and this is the first time we’ve referenced it on a record. We were interested in exploring what kinds of music are allowed to be called ‘dance music’ and we think highlife is the perfect example of music for peaceful, elegant dance floors. Palm wine is a drink associated with things being relaxed and going well, and it’s the perfect title for this track that embodies when things are confident and sexy in the dance.” **“God Gave Me Feet for Dancing” (feat. Yazmin Lacey)** “This track carries on the bouncy, beautiful feel of highlife from ‘Palm Wine.’ I wrote the horn line in the shower but, once the track was done, I had a conversation with \[DJ, broadcaster, and author\] Annie Mac about joy and how it feels like God didn’t just make our feet for running and hunting, he made them for dancing, and I realized it needed a vocal too. Yazmin sings those lines perfectly, saying, ‘God gave me feet for dancing/And that’s exactly what I’ll do,’ because we can all access this joy in ourselves.” **“N29”** “I find Berlin beautifully fascinating because of their dance culture, where it’s like people are in deep meditation or being struck by the Holy Spirit on the dance floor. I wanted to recreate that depth of being in the dance on ‘N29.’ It’s named after the night bus that goes from Trafalgar Square to Enfield, through every part of North London, and it encapsulates how a huge part of the dance floor is getting there and getting back from it. This track is the middle of the record, since the middle of the night can see people arriving, already there, or leaving, and that’s what you find on the night bus with people having their different phases of the night on it. At one point, I strike my hi-hat bell like it’s pressing the button to stop the bus!” **“No One’s Watching Me” (feat. Olivia Dean)** “I’m a big fan of Olivia’s, and I was gripped when I watched her at Forwards Festival in 2023 since she was performing with such honesty. I knew I had to get her on the record, and we had such an honest session where we just started talking about life, and she said the best feeling you get when dancing is when it’s like no one’s watching you and you let the music take control. That was the song right there! Musically, it’s modeled on the marriage between Afrobeats and Afrobeat, where the horns are like Fela Kuti but the bassline and drums are like Tems and Wizkid, while Olivia soulfully drops in on top.” **“Hear My Cry”** “This is a reimagination of a church song, something I grew up listening to, since I wanted the record to take us to the church dance floor now. It’s all about how the dance floor can feel bigger than you, it can sweep you up and overcome your feelings of overwhelm. I wanted to do justice to how I hear the song in church with a marching energy but also adding a calypso/soca feel on top. I’m excited for this to come out because we’ve been playing it on tour and people go insane for it. They’ll finally know what it is now since it never had a name before!” **“Shaking Body”** “‘Shaking Body’ does exactly what it says! It’s inspired by how I fell in love with salsa music in lockdown and began writing songs in that vein, including ‘Victory Dance’ from our last album. Salsa is my favorite acoustic dance music, there’s no help from computers, just instruments tearing it to the floor and being full of aggression. We then wrote the bridge to the track separately to take some of that aggression out, like adding more mixer to a strong drink, and letting the listeners know they can still dance once it’s gone.” **“Streets Is Calling” (feat. M.anifest and Moonchild Sanelly)** “We wanted a hip-hop moment on the album as it has a rich heritage of dance in the music and it’s a big part of our palette. We wanted to bring hip-hop with an African accent, hence getting M.anifest and Moonchild involved, blending Afrobeats and amapiano with the Ezra horn lines. I’m really proud of this song, it’s worlds colliding that people wouldn’t expect from us.” **“Why I Smile”** “This is the sound of falling in love on the dance floor. It’s that moment in the night when you’re getting dramatic because the DJ played a couple of your tunes and so you’re having the best time of your life—everything feels right with the world. I’ve been down that hole in Shangri-La in Glastonbury, when the sun is rising and I feel like, ‘I could die today and I’d be good, all my friends are here!’ Musically, I wanted to keep broadening that idea of which music gives you permission to dance, since this has a laidback, neo-soul energy.” **“Everybody”** “‘Everybody’ is based on another church tune, the Nigerian Baptist song ‘Everybody Blow Your Trumpet.’ I love the word ‘everybody,’ since this album is for everybody, and this track is meant to evoke the end of a great night, when you’re not worried about how you’re going to get home, you’re just ascending. It’s a finishing feeling of euphoria, something we recorded in single takes with all our friends in the room, capturing a real feeling.”

Jamie Smith’s 2015 debut solo album *In Colour* set the tone for an entire decade of left-of-center electronic music, but his long-awaited follow-up harbors zero pretension when it comes to trend-watching. Nine years later, *In Waves* sets its sights on the dance floor with glorious aplomb, the perfect complement to a string of body-moving singles that the iconic British producer has released in the preceding year and a half. “The collaboration element was helping me push things forward without having to think too much about myself on my own,” Smith tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. From there, the rest of *In Waves* came together in quick succession—and, suitably, the record’s rowdy and in-a-crowd feel was largely inspired by the solitude of the lockdown era, as well as dreams of how it would feel to play big tunes for huge audiences again. “I was starting to get excited about the idea of playing shows again,” Smith says. The guest list for this party is overflowing: Along with a practical reunion of his main outfit The xx on the dreamy “Waited All Night,” house music auteur and recent Beyoncé collaborator Honey Dijon lends her distinctive incantations to the squelch of “Baddy on the Floor,” while experimental-leaning vocalists Kelsey Lu and Panda Bear throw in on the soul-streaked and woozy “Dafodil.” But at the center of *In Waves* is a truly assured sense of confidence from Smith, who’s returned here with a set of club-ready cuts that’s truly crowd-pleasing—all without losing the distinctive touch that’s brought him so much deserved acclaim to this point. “One of the most inspiring things is to go out clubbing,” he says. “And I think you can have quite profound thoughts even in an altered state on the dance floor.”

Where the ’60s-ish folk singer Jessica Pratt’s first few albums had the insular feel of music transmitted from deep within someone’s psyche, *Here in the Pitch* is open and ready—cautiously, gently—to be heard. The sounds aren’t any bigger, nor are they jockeying any harder for your attention. (There is no jockeying here, this is a jockey-free space.) But they do take up a little more room, or at least seem more comfortable in their quiet grandeur—whether it’s the lonesome western-movie percussion of “Life Is” or the way the featherlight *sha-la-la*s of “Better Hate” drift like a dazzled girl out for a walk among the bright city lights. This isn’t private-press psychedelia anymore, it’s *Pet Sounds* by The Beach Boys and the rainy-day ballads of Burt Bacharach—music whose restraint and sophistication concealed a sense of yearning rock ’n’ roll couldn’t quite express (“World on a String”). And should you worry that her head is in the clouds, she levels nine blows in a tidy, professional 27 minutes. They don’t make them like they used to—except that she does.

As important as it is to foreground the Tuareg/Nigerien heritage of Mdou Moctar’s scorching psychedelic rock, it’s just as important to note its connection to the American underground. After all, *Funeral for Justice* isn’t “folk music” in any touristic or anthropological sense, and it’s probably as (if not more) likely to appeal to fans of strictly American weirdos like Ty Segall or Thee Oh Sees as anything out of West Africa. Still, anyone unfamiliar with the stutter-step rhythm of Tuareg music should visit “Imajighen” and the lullaby-like hush of “Modern Slaves” immediately, and it pleases the heart to imagine a borderless future in which moody teenage guitarists might study stuff like “Sousoume Tamacheq” the way Moctar himself studied Eddie Van Halen. As with 2021’s breakthrough *Afrique Victime*, the intensity is astonishing, the sustain hypnotic, and the combination of the two an experience most listeners probably haven’t had before.

At just 25 years old, with four solo studio albums and three as guitarist for North Carolina band Wednesday under his belt, MJ Lenderman already seems like an all-timer. The vivid, arch songwriting, the swaying between reverence and irreverence for his forebears, steeped in modern culture while still sounding timeless—he evokes the easy comfort of a well-worn favorite and the butterflies of a new relationship with someone who is going to have a massive, rich, and argued-about discography for decades. The songs go down easy but are dark around the edges, with down-home strings and lap steel adorning tales of jerking off into showers and the existential loneliness of a smartwatch. But in a fun way. And just as 2021’s “Knockin” both referenced erstwhile golfer John Daly’s cover of Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” and lifted its chorus for good measure, “You Don’t Know the Shape I’m In” honors The Band’s classic while rendering it redundant. But album closer “Bark at the Moon” represents Lenderman’s blending of sad-sack character sketches and meta classic-rock references in its final form: “I’ve never seen the Mona Lisa/I’ve never really left my room/I’ve been up too late with Guitar Hero/Playing ‘Bark at the Moon.’” Then he punctuates the line with an “Awoo/Bark at the moon,” not to the tune of the Ozzy song, but to Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London.” Packing that many jokes into half a verse is impressive enough—more so that the impact is even more heartbreaking than it is funny.

Some people kill their nemeses with kindness; Sabrina Carpenter, the breakout pop star of summer 2024, takes the opposite tack, shooting withering one-liners at loser exes via featherlight melodies, a wink and a smile. The former Disney Channel star began her music career at age 15 with her 2014 debut single “Can’t Blame a Girl for Trying.” Now 25, the singer-songwriter is making the catchiest, funniest, and most honest music of her career at a moment when all the world’s watching. But on songs like “Please Please Please,” on which she begs her boyfriend not to embarrass her (again), she’s poking fun at herself, too. “A lot of what I really love about this album is the accountability,” she tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “I will call myself out just as much as I will call out someone else.” It’s not because Carpenter’s “vertically challenged,” as she puts it, that she named her sixth album *Short n’ Sweet*. “I thought about some of these relationships, how some of them were the shortest I’ve ever had and they affected me the most,” she tells Lowe. “And I thought about the way that I respond to situations: Sometimes it is very nice, and sometimes it’s not very nice.” Hence songs like “Dumb & Poetic,” a gentle acoustic ballad that’s also a blistering takedown of a guy who masks his sleazy tendencies with therapy buzzwords and a highbrow record collection, or the twangy, hilarious “Slim Pickins,” on which she croons: “Jesus, what’s a girl to do?/This boy doesn’t even know the difference between there, their, and they are/Yet he’s naked in my room.” With good humor and good taste (channeling Rilo Kiley here, Kacey Musgraves there, and on “Sharpest Tool,” a bit of The Postal Service), Carpenter reframes heartbreak through the lens of life’s absurdity. “When you’re at this point in your life where you’re almost at your wits’ end, everything is funny,” Carpenter tells Lowe. “So much of this album was made in the moments where there was something that I just couldn’t stop laughing about. And I was like, well, that might as well just be a whole song.” Carpenter wrote a good deal of the album on an 11-day trip to a tiny town in rural France, where the isolation unlocked her brutally honest side, resulting in unprecedentedly vulnerable music and one song she readily admits shouldn’t work on paper but hits anyway: “Espresso,” the song that catapulted her career with four delightfully strange-sounding words: “That’s that me espresso.” “There really are no rules to the things you say,” she tells Lowe on the songwriting process. “You’re just like, what sounds awesome? What feels awesome? And what gets the story across, whatever story that is?” Still, she’s painted herself in a bit of a corner when it comes to placing an order at coffee shops worldwide: “They’re just waiting for me to say it,” she laughs. “And I’m like, ‘Tea.’”