Top 10 Albums: 2025
#10
The Life of a Showgirl (2025)
by Taylor Swift
It’s hard to be an artist when things are going well—whether we’re talking about someone’s personal life of geopolitics. The crux of art is to bring out our feelings, and we have the strongest feelings when we’re stressed, or hurt, or angry. The old cliché is the artist needs to suffer and starve in order to bring out the magic, or something like that. From a series of interviews with a Taylor Swift superfan—conducted with the highest level of journalistic integrity—I’ve learned that one of the things that has brought so many people together around Taylor is the way that the lyrics of her songs can capture painful experiences that multitudes of young women relate to on a deep level. The moments where she was most hurt or ashamed, when she most struggled with internal conflict, trying to balance a career as one of the most famous people in the world with the fact that she, too, was just a young person trying to figure life out. I mean—even now, she’s only 36, and the latest science says that adolescence—in terms of brain development—stops at 32. Like any other young person, Taylor had relationships that fell apart, and struggled through understanding what went wrong, fighting against the inevitable belief that she did something wrong, wondering why she felt such affection for someone who ended up casting her aside and making her feel worthless. In America, we like to talk a big game about feminism. We like to say that we have fixed so much and that women here have it good. But if I can know anything as an outsider looking in, it’s that growing up as a teenage girl is hell. Taylor experienced that, and found ways to turn those experiences into strength, that she then shared with the world through song so that, hopefully, other young women going through similar things could find comfort in empathy and solidarity. But like I said at the start of this commentary, it’s hard to be an artist when things are going well. Nowadays, Taylor is the best-selling recorded-music artist of all time, engaged to an NFL star, travelling the world on record-breaking tours—it’s difficult to imagine how things could be going better. But Taylor still has stories to tell—about the haters that follow along wherever success goes (“Actually Romantic”), about the weight and pressure of fame (“The Life of a Showgirl”—which I think pairs well with Shakey Graves’ “Mansion Door” from Can’t Wake Up), and the small moments that become impactful memories and regrets that we carry with us for the rest of our lives (“Ruin the Friendship”). But there’s more—most epitomized by “Opalite,” I get a feeling of hope from this album: acknowledging that we all go through challenging eras, but there is a horizon waiting for each of us if we have the patience and strength to reach it. Maybe it’s not the hard times that inspire good art after all—maybe it’s the getting through them.
The Life of a Showgirl (2025)
by Taylor Swift
It’s hard to be an artist when things are going well—whether we’re talking about someone’s personal life of geopolitics. The crux of art is to bring out our feelings, and we have the strongest feelings when we’re stressed, or hurt, or angry. The old cliché is the artist needs to suffer and starve in order to bring out the magic, or something like that. From a series of interviews with a Taylor Swift superfan—conducted with the highest level of journalistic integrity—I’ve learned that one of the things that has brought so many people together around Taylor is the way that the lyrics of her songs can capture painful experiences that multitudes of young women relate to on a deep level. The moments where she was most hurt or ashamed, when she most struggled with internal conflict, trying to balance a career as one of the most famous people in the world with the fact that she, too, was just a young person trying to figure life out. I mean—even now, she’s only 36, and the latest science says that adolescence—in terms of brain development—stops at 32. Like any other young person, Taylor had relationships that fell apart, and struggled through understanding what went wrong, fighting against the inevitable belief that she did something wrong, wondering why she felt such affection for someone who ended up casting her aside and making her feel worthless. In America, we like to talk a big game about feminism. We like to say that we have fixed so much and that women here have it good. But if I can know anything as an outsider looking in, it’s that growing up as a teenage girl is hell. Taylor experienced that, and found ways to turn those experiences into strength, that she then shared with the world through song so that, hopefully, other young women going through similar things could find comfort in empathy and solidarity. But like I said at the start of this commentary, it’s hard to be an artist when things are going well. Nowadays, Taylor is the best-selling recorded-music artist of all time, engaged to an NFL star, travelling the world on record-breaking tours—it’s difficult to imagine how things could be going better. But Taylor still has stories to tell—about the haters that follow along wherever success goes (“Actually Romantic”), about the weight and pressure of fame (“The Life of a Showgirl”—which I think pairs well with Shakey Graves’ “Mansion Door” from Can’t Wake Up), and the small moments that become impactful memories and regrets that we carry with us for the rest of our lives (“Ruin the Friendship”). But there’s more—most epitomized by “Opalite,” I get a feeling of hope from this album: acknowledging that we all go through challenging eras, but there is a horizon waiting for each of us if we have the patience and strength to reach it. Maybe it’s not the hard times that inspire good art after all—maybe it’s the getting through them.
#9
Dust Bowl Ballads (1940)
by Woody Guthrie
From Brian McCurdy writing for the Library of Congress: Woody Guthrie recorded his legendary “Dust Bowl Ballads” in 1940 using only guitar and vocals. The album follows the travels of Midwesterners headed for California to escape the Dust Bowl that ravaged the Great Plains in the 1930s. Guthrie is best known for his folk ballads, traditional and children’s songs, and improvised works, often incorporating political commentary. His songs from this era earned him the nickname “Dust Bowl Troubadour.” Born in Okema, Oklahoma, Guthrie moved at age 18 to Pampa, Texas, a small town in one of the most deeply affected areas of the Dust Bowl. It was in Pampa that he experienced the fury of “Black Sunday” — a severe dust storm that swept across the Midwestern states on April 14, 1935—and inspired Guthrie to write the song, “Dusty Old Dust (So Long It’s Been Good to Know Yuh).” After Black Sunday, Guthrie joined the ranks of migrating Midwesterners moving to California in search of work. Many of his works — “Do Re Mi,” “I Ain’t Got No Home,” “Talking Dust Bowl,” and others — showcase the difficult conditions faced by the working-class “Okies” in their new home.
I pulled out Dust Bowl Ballads after seeing the Bob Dylan movie around the New Year—I had heard plenty of Dylan’s music, but I wanted to learn about the guy who inspired him. Lo and behold, I already knew a lot of it. Anybody who has heard “This Land is Your Land” has heard a Woody Guthrie song. I appreciate this album for Guthrie’s unflinching ironic humor in the face of tragedy and for how he handles double duty both as an entertainer and a journalist—a real old-fashioned troubadour. I also feel like I relate to his experience—moving away from one place in the middle of a nationwide crisis, only to have to deal with the lasting effects of that tragedy in another place. Dust Bowl refugees ... COVID refugees? One of the most poignant puns Guthrie implements is turning “dough” (in the sense of money) into “do re mi” (the musical syllables starting a scale). Like today, migrants escaping from the Dust Bowl encountered a dark truth—those with money were welcomed in their new homeland while those without it were treated like crap. “California is a garden of Eden / A paradise to live in or see / But believe it or not, you won't find it so hot / If you ain't got the do re mi.” Whatever era, whatever we’re fleeing from, we all share one thing—we’re constantly moving towards the future. In a world where AI is processing viral hits out of thin air, it’s comforting to be able to listen back to songs based in something real—actual human experiences that you can taste, smell, and touch, thanks to the miracle of music.
Dust Bowl Ballads (1940)
by Woody Guthrie
From Brian McCurdy writing for the Library of Congress: Woody Guthrie recorded his legendary “Dust Bowl Ballads” in 1940 using only guitar and vocals. The album follows the travels of Midwesterners headed for California to escape the Dust Bowl that ravaged the Great Plains in the 1930s. Guthrie is best known for his folk ballads, traditional and children’s songs, and improvised works, often incorporating political commentary. His songs from this era earned him the nickname “Dust Bowl Troubadour.” Born in Okema, Oklahoma, Guthrie moved at age 18 to Pampa, Texas, a small town in one of the most deeply affected areas of the Dust Bowl. It was in Pampa that he experienced the fury of “Black Sunday” — a severe dust storm that swept across the Midwestern states on April 14, 1935—and inspired Guthrie to write the song, “Dusty Old Dust (So Long It’s Been Good to Know Yuh).” After Black Sunday, Guthrie joined the ranks of migrating Midwesterners moving to California in search of work. Many of his works — “Do Re Mi,” “I Ain’t Got No Home,” “Talking Dust Bowl,” and others — showcase the difficult conditions faced by the working-class “Okies” in their new home.
I pulled out Dust Bowl Ballads after seeing the Bob Dylan movie around the New Year—I had heard plenty of Dylan’s music, but I wanted to learn about the guy who inspired him. Lo and behold, I already knew a lot of it. Anybody who has heard “This Land is Your Land” has heard a Woody Guthrie song. I appreciate this album for Guthrie’s unflinching ironic humor in the face of tragedy and for how he handles double duty both as an entertainer and a journalist—a real old-fashioned troubadour. I also feel like I relate to his experience—moving away from one place in the middle of a nationwide crisis, only to have to deal with the lasting effects of that tragedy in another place. Dust Bowl refugees ... COVID refugees? One of the most poignant puns Guthrie implements is turning “dough” (in the sense of money) into “do re mi” (the musical syllables starting a scale). Like today, migrants escaping from the Dust Bowl encountered a dark truth—those with money were welcomed in their new homeland while those without it were treated like crap. “California is a garden of Eden / A paradise to live in or see / But believe it or not, you won't find it so hot / If you ain't got the do re mi.” Whatever era, whatever we’re fleeing from, we all share one thing—we’re constantly moving towards the future. In a world where AI is processing viral hits out of thin air, it’s comforting to be able to listen back to songs based in something real—actual human experiences that you can taste, smell, and touch, thanks to the miracle of music.
#8
Jailbreak (1976)
by Thin Lizzy
There’s a scene in A Knight’s Tale where Will, Wat, Roland, and Chaucer are crossing the Thames on a Ferry, and they each recall how long it had been since they last returned home to London. Then it cuts to the parade, with all the knights marching through town with their armor and their livery and their teams in front of adoring crowds—and in the background is playing “The Boys Are Back in Town” from Thin Lizzy’s 1976 album Jailbreak. The message is clear: you can’t keep a good person down. We may have to spend our years in the desert, but soon enough we’ll be back and better than ever. Thin Lizzy originated in 1969 with the confluence of two Irish musicians: drummer Brian Downey and the band’s lead singer, songwriter, and bassist, Phil Lynott (who was born in England to an Irish mother and an African-Guyanese father but was raised from an early age in Dublin). The influence of traditional music on the band is apparent in the lilting rhythm of songs like “Running Back” and “The Boys Are Back in Town.” Their first big hit, released as a single four years before Jailbreak, was their cover of “Whiskey in the Jar,” a folk song that may date back to the 1600s. This album captures the band’s classic rock energy, Lynott’s rich voice and the profound harmonies that support him, and Downey’s solid drumming. The guitar sound varies from heavy metal to folk-electric but is always clean. Defiant self-determination is probably a theme of rock & roll in general, but it’s cranked up to a whole ‘nother level with an Irish band. One of my favorite tracks is “Romeo and the Lonely Girl,” about a lover who is spurned so many times that he becomes embittered, losing his ability to trust anyone besides himself, and ultimately inflicts the same pain he experienced on another (after “The Fate of Ophelia” from The Life of a Showgirl, this is the second song named for a Shakespeare character on this year’s list). I think it’s important to note that these guys were contemporaries of another group coming up later on this list, The Wolfe Tones, who play what some may think of as more “traditional” Irish music. But the truth is, they were making their music at the same time—and in the same town (Dublin)—and both groups were making very real Irish music—it was just two very different kinds. It exemplifies that when you try to pigeonhole the music of an entire country or region into a cliché, you miss out on a lot of incredible stuff. Places all over the world have some people making “traditional” music and other people creating new ideas, and still others merging old with new, all at the same time—and they all deserve recognition and celebration.
Jailbreak (1976)
by Thin Lizzy
There’s a scene in A Knight’s Tale where Will, Wat, Roland, and Chaucer are crossing the Thames on a Ferry, and they each recall how long it had been since they last returned home to London. Then it cuts to the parade, with all the knights marching through town with their armor and their livery and their teams in front of adoring crowds—and in the background is playing “The Boys Are Back in Town” from Thin Lizzy’s 1976 album Jailbreak. The message is clear: you can’t keep a good person down. We may have to spend our years in the desert, but soon enough we’ll be back and better than ever. Thin Lizzy originated in 1969 with the confluence of two Irish musicians: drummer Brian Downey and the band’s lead singer, songwriter, and bassist, Phil Lynott (who was born in England to an Irish mother and an African-Guyanese father but was raised from an early age in Dublin). The influence of traditional music on the band is apparent in the lilting rhythm of songs like “Running Back” and “The Boys Are Back in Town.” Their first big hit, released as a single four years before Jailbreak, was their cover of “Whiskey in the Jar,” a folk song that may date back to the 1600s. This album captures the band’s classic rock energy, Lynott’s rich voice and the profound harmonies that support him, and Downey’s solid drumming. The guitar sound varies from heavy metal to folk-electric but is always clean. Defiant self-determination is probably a theme of rock & roll in general, but it’s cranked up to a whole ‘nother level with an Irish band. One of my favorite tracks is “Romeo and the Lonely Girl,” about a lover who is spurned so many times that he becomes embittered, losing his ability to trust anyone besides himself, and ultimately inflicts the same pain he experienced on another (after “The Fate of Ophelia” from The Life of a Showgirl, this is the second song named for a Shakespeare character on this year’s list). I think it’s important to note that these guys were contemporaries of another group coming up later on this list, The Wolfe Tones, who play what some may think of as more “traditional” Irish music. But the truth is, they were making their music at the same time—and in the same town (Dublin)—and both groups were making very real Irish music—it was just two very different kinds. It exemplifies that when you try to pigeonhole the music of an entire country or region into a cliché, you miss out on a lot of incredible stuff. Places all over the world have some people making “traditional” music and other people creating new ideas, and still others merging old with new, all at the same time—and they all deserve recognition and celebration.
#7
Lifeline (1977)
by Roy Ayers Ubiquity
From TheHypeMagazine.com: Lifeline was among prolific vibraphonist-keyboardist-composer-vocalist Roy Ayers’ greatest albums. The record is best known for containing one of the jazz-funk pioneer’s most popular tracks and biggest singles, “Running Away,” which peaked at No. 19 on the R&B chart and became a massive club hit with its irresistible disco-funk groove. Other compelling tracks on the set include the compulsively rhythmic “Cincinnati Growl,” the euphoric, horn-laded “Sanctified Feeling,” the lush ballad “Gotta Find a Lover,” and the jubilant acid jazz closer “Together.” The LP found the well-travelled performer forging deeper into contemporary soul terrain; heavily influenced by the work of Marvin Gaye, he was abetted vocally by such gifted collaborators as Edwin Birdsong (who co-produced the collection with Ayers and bassist William Allen) and Grammy-winning jazz singer Dee Dee Bridgewater. After establishing himself as a full-time bandleader in 1971, Ayers fabricated upbeat dance grooves and silky balladry that became beloved by crate-digging DJs and had a pronounced impact on hip-hop and rap. As he noted accurately in a 2004 interview with Wax Poetics magazine, “I have more sampled hits than anybody. I might not have more samples than James Brown, but I’ve had more sampled hits ... and there’s a few I don’t know about.”
I only learned about Roy Ayers after he passed away on March 4, 2025, at the age of 84. I consider myself fortunate, though, to be able to listen to his music despite the fact that he’s no longer around to play it—because it’s a truly incredible vibe. He communicates an unconquerable joy that makes you want to smile, or at the very least makes you want to dance. Listen to Everybody Loves the Sunshine next.
Lifeline (1977)
by Roy Ayers Ubiquity
From TheHypeMagazine.com: Lifeline was among prolific vibraphonist-keyboardist-composer-vocalist Roy Ayers’ greatest albums. The record is best known for containing one of the jazz-funk pioneer’s most popular tracks and biggest singles, “Running Away,” which peaked at No. 19 on the R&B chart and became a massive club hit with its irresistible disco-funk groove. Other compelling tracks on the set include the compulsively rhythmic “Cincinnati Growl,” the euphoric, horn-laded “Sanctified Feeling,” the lush ballad “Gotta Find a Lover,” and the jubilant acid jazz closer “Together.” The LP found the well-travelled performer forging deeper into contemporary soul terrain; heavily influenced by the work of Marvin Gaye, he was abetted vocally by such gifted collaborators as Edwin Birdsong (who co-produced the collection with Ayers and bassist William Allen) and Grammy-winning jazz singer Dee Dee Bridgewater. After establishing himself as a full-time bandleader in 1971, Ayers fabricated upbeat dance grooves and silky balladry that became beloved by crate-digging DJs and had a pronounced impact on hip-hop and rap. As he noted accurately in a 2004 interview with Wax Poetics magazine, “I have more sampled hits than anybody. I might not have more samples than James Brown, but I’ve had more sampled hits ... and there’s a few I don’t know about.”
I only learned about Roy Ayers after he passed away on March 4, 2025, at the age of 84. I consider myself fortunate, though, to be able to listen to his music despite the fact that he’s no longer around to play it—because it’s a truly incredible vibe. He communicates an unconquerable joy that makes you want to smile, or at the very least makes you want to dance. Listen to Everybody Loves the Sunshine next.
#6
At Their Very Best (2004)
by The Wolfe Tones
Formed in Dublin in 1963, The Wolfe Tones named themselves after a leader of the Irish Rebellion of 1798, Theobald Wolfe Tone. The musical pun—a wolf tone is a phenomenon that occurs when the frequency of a bowed string gets too close to the resonant pitch of the hollow body of the instrument, creating a nasty-sounding note—may also have been a factor in their decision. They have been singing traditional Irish folk music along with modern ballads and rebel songs for more than six decades now. They’re known for songs like “Come Out Ye Black and Tans,” “Celtic Symphony”—which commemorated the 100th anniversary of The Celtic Football Club in Glasgow—and their version of “A Nation Once Again” (a song written by Irish journalist Thomas Osborne Davis in 1844). At Their Very Best captures live performances of some of their most popular songs, along with the energy of the crowd and their narration in between songs. The track that most impacted me was “Joe McDonnell,” which tells the story of the 1981 hunger strike where members of the IRA held in British prisons protested the inhumane conditions in which they were held. Ten men died, and the song tells the story from the perspective of the fifth: Joe McDonnell. “Joe McDonnell” is just one of many songs on the album that memorialize the awful cost of civil conflict. Another is “Broken Dreams,” which talks about a young man being killed for wearing a Glasgow Celtic jersey—a tragedy that has recurred numerous times over the years. But there are plenty of songs that bring a positive energy, including “We’re on the One Road," “Paddle Your Own Canoe,” and “You’ll Never Beat the Irish.” Altogether, the album is a celebration of progress, recorded a few years after the Good Friday Agreement heralded the end of the Troubles, commemorating those who were lost, celebrating the strength of Irish identity, and encouraging you to reflect on how far we’ve come—and how close we still are to our history.
At Their Very Best (2004)
by The Wolfe Tones
Formed in Dublin in 1963, The Wolfe Tones named themselves after a leader of the Irish Rebellion of 1798, Theobald Wolfe Tone. The musical pun—a wolf tone is a phenomenon that occurs when the frequency of a bowed string gets too close to the resonant pitch of the hollow body of the instrument, creating a nasty-sounding note—may also have been a factor in their decision. They have been singing traditional Irish folk music along with modern ballads and rebel songs for more than six decades now. They’re known for songs like “Come Out Ye Black and Tans,” “Celtic Symphony”—which commemorated the 100th anniversary of The Celtic Football Club in Glasgow—and their version of “A Nation Once Again” (a song written by Irish journalist Thomas Osborne Davis in 1844). At Their Very Best captures live performances of some of their most popular songs, along with the energy of the crowd and their narration in between songs. The track that most impacted me was “Joe McDonnell,” which tells the story of the 1981 hunger strike where members of the IRA held in British prisons protested the inhumane conditions in which they were held. Ten men died, and the song tells the story from the perspective of the fifth: Joe McDonnell. “Joe McDonnell” is just one of many songs on the album that memorialize the awful cost of civil conflict. Another is “Broken Dreams,” which talks about a young man being killed for wearing a Glasgow Celtic jersey—a tragedy that has recurred numerous times over the years. But there are plenty of songs that bring a positive energy, including “We’re on the One Road," “Paddle Your Own Canoe,” and “You’ll Never Beat the Irish.” Altogether, the album is a celebration of progress, recorded a few years after the Good Friday Agreement heralded the end of the Troubles, commemorating those who were lost, celebrating the strength of Irish identity, and encouraging you to reflect on how far we’ve come—and how close we still are to our history.
#5
When I Woke (1994)
by Rusted Root
From RealGoneMusic.com: Rusted Root were part of the first wave of post-hippie jam bands and perhaps the most commercially successful of ‘em all, as 1994’s When I Woke, their second record and first major label release, went platinum. In fact, the band’s popularity transcends the bonds of this planet, as their hit “Send Me on My Way” was chosen as the “wake-up” music for the Mars Exploration Rover Opportunity! But we Earthlings have heard that song everywhere on our own terrestrial airwaves, from sitcoms like New Girl to movies like Ice Age. Grateful Dead-style acoustic jams, Peter Gabriel-esque chants, and Graceland-like world beats infuse this music with both heady nostalgia and forward-looking fusion; latter-day bands like The Polyphonic Spree definitely owe a debt to Rusted Root. But it’s the spiritual concerns of lead songwriter Michael Glabicki that lend When I Woke its healthy heft…this album’s got more on its mind that just having a good time.
My girlfriend and I have been on a Christmas movie kick since before Thanksgiving, and one that we watched was about a strong New York City woman being abandoned by her husband as soon as their son moves off to college, and deciding to take the second-honeymoon trip to Zambia, which she had already planned before her husband turned out to be a jerk, alone. She revives her veterinary career working with elephants and regains her spiritual energy while falling in love with Rob Lowe, but then it turns out Rob Lowe is just an actor playing another character in the movie. There are a lot of unfortunate and potentially hurtful cliches and tropes about Americans going to less-developed countries and “finding themselves,” but in the end it turned out to be propaganda for elephant conservation efforts, which is hard to hate on. Sometime in the middle of the movie, “Send Me on My Way” comes on. It’s a song that I’ve heard a hundred times—I grew up when it was an essential part of the popular cultural conscience, but I never actually knew the name of the song or anything about the band that created it. Turns out, they have some serious messages to share. “Cruel Sun” is a tale of hope amidst suffering, and “Back to Earth” is about celebrating simplicity and human connection. Titles like “Beautiful People,” “Lost in a Crowd,” and “Martyr” speak for themselves. Also, my girlfriend and I have this thing where we change the lyrics of any song we hear and make it about her cat, Blue—"Cat Turned Blue” was apparently written with us in mind, and so I am here sending vibes of gratitude to Rusted Root for that banger.
When I Woke (1994)
by Rusted Root
From RealGoneMusic.com: Rusted Root were part of the first wave of post-hippie jam bands and perhaps the most commercially successful of ‘em all, as 1994’s When I Woke, their second record and first major label release, went platinum. In fact, the band’s popularity transcends the bonds of this planet, as their hit “Send Me on My Way” was chosen as the “wake-up” music for the Mars Exploration Rover Opportunity! But we Earthlings have heard that song everywhere on our own terrestrial airwaves, from sitcoms like New Girl to movies like Ice Age. Grateful Dead-style acoustic jams, Peter Gabriel-esque chants, and Graceland-like world beats infuse this music with both heady nostalgia and forward-looking fusion; latter-day bands like The Polyphonic Spree definitely owe a debt to Rusted Root. But it’s the spiritual concerns of lead songwriter Michael Glabicki that lend When I Woke its healthy heft…this album’s got more on its mind that just having a good time.
My girlfriend and I have been on a Christmas movie kick since before Thanksgiving, and one that we watched was about a strong New York City woman being abandoned by her husband as soon as their son moves off to college, and deciding to take the second-honeymoon trip to Zambia, which she had already planned before her husband turned out to be a jerk, alone. She revives her veterinary career working with elephants and regains her spiritual energy while falling in love with Rob Lowe, but then it turns out Rob Lowe is just an actor playing another character in the movie. There are a lot of unfortunate and potentially hurtful cliches and tropes about Americans going to less-developed countries and “finding themselves,” but in the end it turned out to be propaganda for elephant conservation efforts, which is hard to hate on. Sometime in the middle of the movie, “Send Me on My Way” comes on. It’s a song that I’ve heard a hundred times—I grew up when it was an essential part of the popular cultural conscience, but I never actually knew the name of the song or anything about the band that created it. Turns out, they have some serious messages to share. “Cruel Sun” is a tale of hope amidst suffering, and “Back to Earth” is about celebrating simplicity and human connection. Titles like “Beautiful People,” “Lost in a Crowd,” and “Martyr” speak for themselves. Also, my girlfriend and I have this thing where we change the lyrics of any song we hear and make it about her cat, Blue—"Cat Turned Blue” was apparently written with us in mind, and so I am here sending vibes of gratitude to Rusted Root for that banger.
#4
Phase & Faces (2023)
by Queen Ayorkor
Queen Ayorkor is from Accra, Ghana, and her music is a soulful fusion of afrobeat, reggae, R&B, and other styles. Phase & Faces is high-energy, with track after track that pops off in the best way. The opener, “Queen Ayorkor (Intro)” is like her walk-up music—it’s a monologue of self-affirmation cut together with a bassy chorus chanting her name and a melismatic line reminiscent of nasheed leaving vapor trails as it dances in the sky above. The rhythms and arrangements across the album are diverse, taking you on a journey from classic African guitar (“African Lady” reminds me of Zaïko Langa Langa, a Congolese band formed in 1969) to fundamental reggae (“Hustle”) and elemental R&B (“Free”). Ayorkor sings with presence and has very serious things to say about personal strength, self-confidence, and making one’s way in the world as an independent person. She able to say a whole lot on this album that totals just 17 minutes of music, and once it starts playing, you can’t help but listen through to the end.
Phase & Faces (2023)
by Queen Ayorkor
Queen Ayorkor is from Accra, Ghana, and her music is a soulful fusion of afrobeat, reggae, R&B, and other styles. Phase & Faces is high-energy, with track after track that pops off in the best way. The opener, “Queen Ayorkor (Intro)” is like her walk-up music—it’s a monologue of self-affirmation cut together with a bassy chorus chanting her name and a melismatic line reminiscent of nasheed leaving vapor trails as it dances in the sky above. The rhythms and arrangements across the album are diverse, taking you on a journey from classic African guitar (“African Lady” reminds me of Zaïko Langa Langa, a Congolese band formed in 1969) to fundamental reggae (“Hustle”) and elemental R&B (“Free”). Ayorkor sings with presence and has very serious things to say about personal strength, self-confidence, and making one’s way in the world as an independent person. She able to say a whole lot on this album that totals just 17 minutes of music, and once it starts playing, you can’t help but listen through to the end.
#3
Jenny and the Mexicats (2012)
by Jenny and the Mexicats
From the website of their publisher (GMO): The story of the Mexican-British-Spanish band Jenny and The Mexicats began in the hot summer of 2008 in Madrid when La Roja, Spain’s national football team, was on its way to win the UEFA European Championship. Jenny Ball, who had already been playing as a singer and trumpeter in England for some years, was living in Madrid and was invited by Mexican bass player Icho (Luis Díaz) to join a band with him and his friend Pantera (Alfonso Acosta), an exceptional flamenco-rockabilly guitarist, with whom Icho had played in a punk band in Mexico City. In turn, Pantera introduced David González Bernardos, a great Spanish percussionist playing the cajon among other marvelous things, to the Mexicats. They jammed and rehearsed together, and they soon came to the conclusion that they wanted to continue playing as a band.
They recorded and released their self-titled debut album (Jenny and the Mexicats) in Madrid, before moving to Mexico City a year later. Right from the first track, their unique blend of genres including jazz, flamenco, and reggae pops out. The musicianship on every instrument—including the Jenny’s voice—is superb, and all the disparate styles fuse together seamlessly. I love “The Song of the UV House Mouse,” and “Verde Más Allá” (green beyond / greener over there) with its contrasting peppy verses and melancholy chorus. “Flor” (flower) is a super fun barn-burner. The entire album has great energy and is very well produced—it’s one you can listen to over and over again.
Jenny and the Mexicats (2012)
by Jenny and the Mexicats
From the website of their publisher (GMO): The story of the Mexican-British-Spanish band Jenny and The Mexicats began in the hot summer of 2008 in Madrid when La Roja, Spain’s national football team, was on its way to win the UEFA European Championship. Jenny Ball, who had already been playing as a singer and trumpeter in England for some years, was living in Madrid and was invited by Mexican bass player Icho (Luis Díaz) to join a band with him and his friend Pantera (Alfonso Acosta), an exceptional flamenco-rockabilly guitarist, with whom Icho had played in a punk band in Mexico City. In turn, Pantera introduced David González Bernardos, a great Spanish percussionist playing the cajon among other marvelous things, to the Mexicats. They jammed and rehearsed together, and they soon came to the conclusion that they wanted to continue playing as a band.
They recorded and released their self-titled debut album (Jenny and the Mexicats) in Madrid, before moving to Mexico City a year later. Right from the first track, their unique blend of genres including jazz, flamenco, and reggae pops out. The musicianship on every instrument—including the Jenny’s voice—is superb, and all the disparate styles fuse together seamlessly. I love “The Song of the UV House Mouse,” and “Verde Más Allá” (green beyond / greener over there) with its contrasting peppy verses and melancholy chorus. “Flor” (flower) is a super fun barn-burner. The entire album has great energy and is very well produced—it’s one you can listen to over and over again.
|
#2
Animal Sounds (2025) by Lawson I don’t put out an album every year, so I’ve got no qualms about putting myself on this list every time I do release something. Nobody else is reviewing me, so ... a guy’s gotta eat. I put my album at #2 because I am really proud of the work that went into it and because it’s the best thing I heard this year when it comes to storytelling in the format of a musical album. It’s split into three acts like an opera or a play (Vols. I-III), with each act having six scenes (six tracks). The first act represents the identity that I wear on stage—the performative, self-assured face I put on when I go out into a world that demands confidence-through-conformity. The second act is the version of me that comes out when I’m alone—full of questions and confusion that I have to grapple with in silence so that no one out there in the world judges me negatively for having second thoughts. The third act represents a balanced version of myself that I’m trying to create by merging the two disparate personalities—embracing struggle as an opportunity to overcome, asking questions with confidence, and approaching the end of the world with a pointless joke on my tongue and real, healthy love filling my heart. People will say “it kind of sounds poorly-produced” but I’ll say this: that’s what happens when you’re on a budget. I played every instrument on this album, sang every vocal line, wrote and read every narration, and mixed and mastered every single second of music that you’re hearing—all in a big concrete box apartment in Downtown Phoenix. No studio, no producers, no backing band. It’s just me, pouring my heart and soul into something just for the sake of creating it. The album brings together music from Scotland, Austria, Zimbabwe, and Spain. It puts the Iliad and the Aeneid side-by-side with Saturday Night Live, and juxtaposes political monologues with silly love songs. If nothing else, my graphic designer colleague Laurie has once again knocked it out of the park with three killer album covers. I like music that takes you somewhere else, and for this album I created a musical tour of Phoenix through my eyes—because that’s the only perspective I can ever speak to with any authenticity. The rawness of the production, the weirdness of the concept, the quirky sense of humor and slightly out of tune vocals—take that as proof that it wasn’t created by an AI band, nor by a consortium of pop-song manufacturers, but by a random guy trying to tell his story. |
#1
Bagola (2025)
by Trio Da Kali
From oneworldmusic.com: Trio Da Kali were founded in 2013 under the initiative of the Aga Khan Music Programme, with the help of three-time Grammy-nominated music producer Lucy Durán. The Trio first rose to international fame with their sublime album Ladilikan (World Circuit Records 2017), featuring an unprecedented and multi-award-winning collaboration with Kronos Quartet, the legendary classical string quartet from San Francisco. In their new album Bagola, Trio Da Kali present newly-composed songs accompanied on balafon and ngoni bass, that provide a rich accompaniment to the spectacular voice of Hawa Kasse Mady Diabaté. She inherits her singing style from her father, the late Kasse Mady Diabaté, who was widely recognized as one of Africa’s all-time greatest singers, and earned a Grammy nomination in 2004. Hawa’s voice has an exquisite purity and expressiveness, with a wide emotional range. She is equally at home in the lively, 9/8 rhythms of the title track “Bagola,” a light-hearted critique of men in Malian society, to the soulful “Orpaillage,” a song that laments the destruction of land from gold-panning. The musical director of the trio is balafon player Lassana Diabaté, born in Guinea into a well-known family of balafon musicians. His remarkable dexterity on the balafon earned him a place in Toumani Diabaté’s Symmetric Orchestra, and later on in the group Afrocubism (featuring Eliades Ochoa). He has collaborated with many musicians, including bluesman Taj Mahal on the album Kulanjan. With two balafons of 22 rosewood keys each, tuned to play chromatic scales, Lassana Diabaté achieves a perfect balance of rhythm, melody, harmony and virtuosic embellishment. David Harrington, leader of Kronos Quartet, compares him to none other than JS Bach. Underpinning the balafon with compulsive groove, is the large ngoni bass, played with brilliant musicality by Madou Kouyaté (son of Bassekou Kouyaté and member of his group Ngoniba). Madou, the youngest member of Trio Da Kali, also adds rich harmonies with his deep breathy voice to the songs.
The only thing I feel the need to add is this: these musicians, in this arrangement, the way it was recorded and produced—it all comes together such that this is one of the best albums I’ve ever heard. The AI should definitely be studying this.
Bagola (2025)
by Trio Da Kali
From oneworldmusic.com: Trio Da Kali were founded in 2013 under the initiative of the Aga Khan Music Programme, with the help of three-time Grammy-nominated music producer Lucy Durán. The Trio first rose to international fame with their sublime album Ladilikan (World Circuit Records 2017), featuring an unprecedented and multi-award-winning collaboration with Kronos Quartet, the legendary classical string quartet from San Francisco. In their new album Bagola, Trio Da Kali present newly-composed songs accompanied on balafon and ngoni bass, that provide a rich accompaniment to the spectacular voice of Hawa Kasse Mady Diabaté. She inherits her singing style from her father, the late Kasse Mady Diabaté, who was widely recognized as one of Africa’s all-time greatest singers, and earned a Grammy nomination in 2004. Hawa’s voice has an exquisite purity and expressiveness, with a wide emotional range. She is equally at home in the lively, 9/8 rhythms of the title track “Bagola,” a light-hearted critique of men in Malian society, to the soulful “Orpaillage,” a song that laments the destruction of land from gold-panning. The musical director of the trio is balafon player Lassana Diabaté, born in Guinea into a well-known family of balafon musicians. His remarkable dexterity on the balafon earned him a place in Toumani Diabaté’s Symmetric Orchestra, and later on in the group Afrocubism (featuring Eliades Ochoa). He has collaborated with many musicians, including bluesman Taj Mahal on the album Kulanjan. With two balafons of 22 rosewood keys each, tuned to play chromatic scales, Lassana Diabaté achieves a perfect balance of rhythm, melody, harmony and virtuosic embellishment. David Harrington, leader of Kronos Quartet, compares him to none other than JS Bach. Underpinning the balafon with compulsive groove, is the large ngoni bass, played with brilliant musicality by Madou Kouyaté (son of Bassekou Kouyaté and member of his group Ngoniba). Madou, the youngest member of Trio Da Kali, also adds rich harmonies with his deep breathy voice to the songs.
The only thing I feel the need to add is this: these musicians, in this arrangement, the way it was recorded and produced—it all comes together such that this is one of the best albums I’ve ever heard. The AI should definitely be studying this.