Variety's Best Albums of 2013

There are deftly wielded forces of darkness and light at work on Vampire Weekend’s third record. Elegiac, alive with ideas, and coproduced by Ariel Rechtshaid, *Modern Vampires of the City* moves beyond the grabby, backpacking indie of its predecessors. In fact, whether through the hiccuping, distorted storm of “Diane Young” or “Unbelievers”—a sprinting guitar-pop jewel about the notion of afterlife—this is nothing less than the sound of a band making a huge but sure-footed creative leap.

On her sixth studio album, the incomparable Neko Case returns to the exquisitely dark, structurally complex, yet unfailingly lovely songwriting that made her 2006 landmark *Fox Confessor Brings the Flood* so transcendent. “Night Still Comes” is Case at her most achingly gorgeous, even while singing tormented lyrics reminiscent of Fiona Apple’s “Every Single Night” (“My brain makes drugs to keep me slow… but not even the masons know what drug will keep night from coming”). “Bracing for Sunday” finds Case singing matter-of-factly about murdering the man responsible for a friend’s death. “Nearly Midnight, Honolulu” is an appalled a capella lullaby to a child Case witnessed being viciously berated by his mother, while the darkly baroque “Afraid” gives us the gift of Neko covering Nico, the former Velvet Underground muse. Still, the album is not without lighter moments such as plaintive love song “Calling Cards” or the resilient, horn-swirling closing track, “Ragtime.”

The main feeling that Kevin Shields felt upon the release of *m b v* in 2013 was relief. The process of making his band’s third album—and first since 1991’s era-defining *Loveless*—had begun almost two decades before, and, after a last-minute race to complete it before a planned tour, it was done. “We had a six-month tour in front of us and we literally just finished it in time,” Shields tells Apple Music. Continuing a theme begun by *Loveless* and 1988’s *Isn’t Anything*, Shields compromised nothing on *m b v*. This time, though, it was a totally independent production, all on him. “I spent about £50,000 mastering it,” he says. “If we were with a record company, they would have been going absolutely crazy, but we paid for it ourselves and we put it out ourselves and we made a lot more money than we would’ve made if we’d put it out on a label.” *m b v* began back in 1996. The band’s classic lineup had started to disintegrate, with drummer Colm Ó Cíosóig and bassist Debbie Googe departing. Perhaps in a reflection of this unsettling period, Shields began to approach songwriting in a much more experimental manner. “I went on this process of recording a lot of ideas in a purposely abstract way,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to write a song with a beginning and an end. Instead of writing a part in a song, I’d record it and then record another part. I was doing the writing process and the recording process at the same time but in different ways. It might be weeks between a verse and a chorus…well, I don’t do choruses.” The idea was that eventually these ideas would form a coherent whole that would be a new my bloody valentine record, but the project stalled in 1997 when Shields ran out of money. “And then I started hanging out with Primal Scream and I kind of drifted into that world, which was fun for quite a while.” It wasn’t until Shields was remastering the band’s back catalog in 2006 that he listened back to the unfinished sessions. “I realized it was actually better and more relevant than I thought it was,” he recalls. “I’d kind of forgotten about the more melodic parts of it and realized they were quite strong. I thought, ‘I should finish this and make it into an album.’” It was a freeing process, Shields says, filled with lots of “crazy shit.” At one point, they paid to fly people from England to Japan with proofs of the artwork because they didn’t trust just seeing it on a computer. “We were literally throwing money at it to make sure it was as good as possible,” he says. “Every single penny was justified.” By the end, Shields felt vindicated. “We did it our way and it was perfectly good.” No my bloody valentine record ever sounds of its time—they all sound like the future. But there is something especially reinvigorating about listening to their third album, perhaps because of how unlikely its release seemed at points. To hear Shields still erecting signposts on where guitar music can go on the sensational closer “wonder 2,” which sounds like a rock band playing drum and bass from inside the engine of a 747, or the slo-mo sway of “if i am” is to be reminded that this is a visionary at work. One of the central themes of *m b v*, says Shields, was a strong sense of everything coming to an end. He thinks that’s why it still resonated when he listened back in 2006, the feeling growing as he recommenced work on it in 2011 and even more so now. “We’re in a cycle of the world of things coming to an end and moving into a new phase,” he says. “The record is more relevant as every decade goes by.”

When Beyoncé’s self-titled fifth album landed unannounced on the iTunes store in December 2013, the pop world trembled. Here was one of music’s biggest stars dispensing with the normal prolonged rollout of a major work, instead simultaneously alerting people to it *and* releasing it. That this was a visual album—with every song accompanied by a short film—only made Beyoncé’s flex more impressive, changing the game for how artists would handle releasing new music in the digital era. Surprise drops became something of a norm not just for pop’s top tier, but for any artist with a devoted fanbase—the month’s advance notice for *RENAISSANCE* seems almost quaint by comparison. But *BEYONCÉ* would have been a career achievement even if it had been released in an old-school way. Across its 14 tracks, Beyoncé pushes herself artistically and emotionally, opening up about her insecurities, her sexuality, and her happiness over songs that demonstrate the strength and versatility of her voice. Years after its release, *BEYONCÉ* remains a touchstone not just for Beyoncé, but for any marquee artist who wants to break from expectations, with Beyoncé’s forward-thinking, collaborative approach to creating art aiding its of-the-moment yet not-stuck-in-time feel. Opening with “Pretty Hurts,” a soaring ballad that dives into the body-image issues that even the most revered women have to endure, even as children, and closing with “Blue,” a swaying ode to her first child (who makes a cameo on the track), *BEYONCÉ* reveals where the pop star’s mind had wandered after the release of her monogamy reflection *4* two years prior. Eroticism is a large part of *BEYONCÉ*, both in sound and in subject matter—the spikily giddy duet with husband JAY-Z “Drunk in Love” and the slow jam “Rocket” are two of the most carnally delightful entries in Beyoncé’s catalog, while the massive “Jealous” examines what happens when desire fuels inner strife. The exploration of grief “Heaven,” the ferocious pop-feminist anthem “\*\*\*Flawless,” and the jagged statement of artistic intent “Haunted” fill out the emotional and musical spectrum. The videos, too, run the gamut in both style and feeling, with prestigious directors like Hype Williams, Jonas Åkerlund, and Melina Matsoukas creating companion pieces for each of *BEYONCÉ*’s songs. The Williams-directed video for the gently funky “Blow” is a roller-rink fantasia; the Åkerlund-helmed clip for the dreamy “Haunted” channels Madonna’s groundbreaking 1990 short film “Justify My Love” through Beyoncé’s 21st-century luxe aesthetic. Pop’s sound had shifted at the turn of the decade, with electro-pop-influenced tracks taking the spaces on radio and on the charts where Beyoncé and other R&B-leaning artists had ruled during the 2000s. On *BEYONCÉ*, the singer and mogul showed that, radio play or no, she was still a member of pop’s ruling class—and she did so not by flipping pop’s script, but by drawing inspiration from its most enticing aspects while writing a completely new playbook. *BEYONCÉ* did feature culture-ruling collaborators like Drake, who plays B’s foil on the skeletal “Mine,” and Frank Ocean, who locks up with Beyoncé on the sumptuous Pharrell Williams production “Superpower,” but Beyoncé’s willingness to explore music’s edges and revel in its greatest moments resulted in the album existing on its own plane, aware of the pop world’s trends but diverging from them in thrilling ways. *BEYONCÉ* represents a major turning point for Beyoncé, beginning the stage of her career where she would define “pop stardom” not by chart placement but by following her own artistic path—on her own schedule and on her own terms.

POLIÇA return with their second album ‘Shulamith’, the follow up to 2012’s universally acclaimed breakthrough debut ‘Give You The Ghost’. It is set to be released 21st October on Memphis Industries. First, a little recap for you. Founded by vocalist Channy Leaneagh and producer Ryan Olson out of the ashes of Minneapolis collective Gayngs, and featuring Drew Christopherson, and Ben Ivascu on drums and Chris Bierden on bass and backing vocals, POLIÇA’s ‘Give You The Ghost’ was released in April last year. Seemingly from nowhere it became one of 2012’s standout debut albums. They made their UK live debut in June 2012, with two packed nights at the tiny CAMP Basement in London, and less than a year later, March 2013 saw the band play a triumphant show to a sold out Shepherd’s Bush Empire. With US TV performances on Jimmy Fallon and Jimmy Kimmel plus their UK TV debut on Later with Jools Holland under their belt, and having toured all four corners of the globe, including appearances at Coachella, Latitude, SXSW, the xx’s Night + Day event, the band found time in late 2012 to forge ahead with recording their second album. Born then, out of a tumultuous, head spinning 18 months, the album is named in homage to pioneering feminist activist and thinker Shulamith Firestone. Channy explains: “Her ideas and written word are hugely important to me and she is my muse and my mentor from the grave. I want people to know about her. Also Shulamith means peace and that is a good word for any band to put above their door for a few years.” Musically, ‘Shulamith’ demonstrates an increased mastery and extension of the unique sonic palette that POLIÇA mined on their debut album. The recording process was naturally a more collaborative process than their debut, with the band reacting to and working off Olsen’s beats, drawing on elements of modern R&B, electronica, dub and the extreme metal scene’s use of blast beats to create a sound that, already, this early in their career, is uniquely and identifiably their own. Leaneagh’s continued exploration of, and increased control over the effects processor to manipulate and enhance her already outstanding voice take her vocals to new and unusual heights. 'Tiff' was the first track to see light of day, in April of this year, and coupled with a startlingly intense video, it sets the tone for an album where unflinching emotional, sometimes violent, sharp-eyed lyrical self-exploration is articulated via enticingly brooding R&B inflicted electronic pop. From the flurry of warped metallic synths and razor-sharp groove of opener ‘Chain My Name’ with it’s stark and rushing refrain, the angular R&B-pop futurism of ‘I Need $’, its sweetly earworm hook belying lyrics of alternately helplessness and defiance, to the gliding, birds-eye meditation of closer ‘So Leave’, 'Shulamith' reaffirms Poliça as one of the most fascinating and vital groups in forward-thinking pop. Ultimately, Channy succinctly sums up the ideas and themes behind Shulamith, and POLIÇA as follows: “Drums. Bass. Synths. Me, Women”.