“Gone, Gone / Thank You” by Tyler, The Creator

I became hooked on Tyler’s colorful brand of hip-hop with Flower Boy, and Igor – much to my happiness – took what I loved about that album and made it even brighter and warmer.  “Gone Gone / Thank You” is one of the most summery hip-hop tracks I’ve ever listened to, and I mean that as praise.  Parts of the song make it sound like it could have been influenced by Pharell Williams, which makes sense as he contributed backing vocals to the album’s closing track.  It’s a very bouncy, upbeat track that alternates between rap verses and pop choruses for the better part of six minutes.  I’m not a huge hip-hop fan in general, but “Gone, Gone / Thank You” immediately stood out as one of my favorite songs from the genre this decade.

“Bright Horses” by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds

Nick Cave has written some pretty bleak verses, especially following the passing of his son Arthur, but I’m not sure any have hit me as hard as the lyrics to “Bright Horses”: I can hear the whistle blowing, I can hear the mighty roar / I can hear the horses prancing in the pastures of the Lord / Oh the train is coming, and I’m standing here to see / And it’s bringing my baby right back to me.  Cave has been wallowing in gloom since 2016’s Skeleton Tree, but somehow the hope (denial?) present in this track is even more obliterating.  Here’s this man who has lost his son tragically, just waiting at the train station to see his child again.  Whether he’s literally waiting at a station, or if it’s a metaphor for some kind of afterlife, is up to interpretation.  As a new father, this passage during the more broadly breathtaking Ghosteen absolutely broke my heart.  It’s also the most beautiful and memorable song on what might be Cave’s best album – so no matter how you look at it, “Bright Horses” is a must-hear moment.

“Venice Bitch” by Lana Del Rey

“Venice Bitch” feels like a long, winding end to summer.  Del Rey sounds wistful and lost in nostalgia…ultimately, happy.  As the song gradually fades from clear-eyed lucidity to dreamy, soft-rock elements and psychedelia, Lana waxes poetic about all things American – “I dream in jeans and leather” / “Give me Hallmark; one dream, one life, one lover” – ultimately concluding that “we’re American made.”  She’s long been obsessed with the idea of “the American dream”, but rarely has it ever been expressed so eloquently or to such a spellbinding backdrop.  The way the song transforms over its run time is nothing short of a revelation for Del Rey, proving that she can transcend the pop formula and craft a song that’s truly epic; her “Stairway to Heaven.”  I believe that when we look back at LDR in thirty years or so, “Venice Bitch” will still be her calling card.  It just might do the same for 2019 as well.

“Don’t Settle” by Glen Hansard

I find it amazing how many hats Hansard is able to wear on This Wild Willing. He sounds like a hybrid between Bright Eyes and Brand New on “I’ll Be You, Be Me”, then on “Brother’s Keeper” he sounds like Damien Rice at his most acoustic/troubadour-like.  On the album’s greatest song, which is without a single doubt “Don’t Settle”, he morphs into a blend between Nick Cave’s heartfelt croons and Roger Waters emotionally-charged cries.   It’s a haunting folk track that turns into a blistering rock epic when brass horns join the mix and Hansard shouts into the surrounding emptiness.  It feels like a turning point in his career; an absolute awakening.  Those who wrote Hansard off as just another homely folk singer-songwriter will have their perceptions shaken by this track.

“Everyday” by Weyes Blood

Titanic Rising served as my introduction to Weyes Blood.  The album has a plethora or beautiful moments, but nothing resonated with me quite as strongly as “Everyday.”  The track feels like a Father John Misty song directed by Sgt. Peppers – it’s soulful and eloquent but grandiose and over-the-top…there’s even a little Beach Boys in the ba-ba-ba’s in the chorus.  With the lyrical mantra “true love is making a comeback”, it feels like a celebration of romance and optimism.  Strictly from a listening standpoint, this might be the most enjoyable song of the entire year…if not even longer.  It’s just designed to appeal to the masses in the best way possible.

“Colorless” by Copeland

The emotional factor present in Copeland’s Blushing – a concept album that intertwined the concepts of romance, dreams, and existence into one – was unparalleled in 2019.  At its center is “Colorless”, which is as melancholic as it is powerful.  The track mourns lost love with the unrivaled potency of passages such as “these days I’m terrified of silence, my thoughts unbearable in the quiet”, “now I can’t see you…were we colorless anyway?”, and “I’m never falling out of love, I fear.”  Even though pretty much all of Blushing serves as Aaron Marsh’s lyrical masterpiece, the aura of this track is especially poignant – it’s capable of reducing anyone enduring a breakup, death, or other form of loss to tears. The track slowly builds to a cathartic release of energy, this relatively brief but downright explosive guitar solo that feels like a personal breaking point.  Finally, the mayhem sticks a soft landing on this cloud of swelling strings and brass, as Aaron laments, “Ohh-ohh, I can’t save myself.” The entire song is a marvel to behold, and the sheer energy that emanates from it is enough to send aftershocks throughout the rest of Blushing.

And The Winner Is:

All of the nominated tracks are incredible in their own right, but nothing has blown me away so consistently, all year long, as much as ‘Don’t Settle’.  It’s a transcendent moment for Glen Hansard.

Category VI: Honorable Mentions

This is a list of albums that just barely missed the cut for my AOTY category.  There’s no “winner”, but you should definitely make time for all of these.

The Nominees (13):

La Dispute – Panorama

For the longest time, I wrongfully wrote off La Dispute as an inferior version of mewithoutYou.  I’d listen to snippets of albums and maybe even the occasional full song, but I never afforded them my complete attention.  That all changed when I heard ‘Fulton Street I’, a slow boil of a song that erupts into one of the most emotional verses I’ve heard this year (“I’ve never put flowers by the street”).  The band’s shouted poetry doesn’t wear thin across the record like one might expect; they always seem to work in a timely guitar lick or a tempo change.  What’s even more amazing is how much Jordan Dreyer is able to keep us on the edge of our collective seat with his voice alone – he mutters quietly, speaks matter of factly, and passionately shouts (they’re not really screams).  His versatility is what drives Panorama, from the laid back vibe of ‘Rhodonite and Grief’ to the impossible-to-deny groove of ‘Footsteps at the Pond.’  La Dispute has created an angry, grief-filled, moving piece of poetry here and it’s an album that you must hear before you close the book on 2019 and the decade.

Weyes Blood – Titanic Rising

Not unlike the album cover, much of Titanic Rising sounds in some fashion or another aquatic.  There’s a slow, winding progression to the tracks that possesses the calm still of the ocean floor.  Natalie’s beautiful voice and the lavish production conjures images of a lake surface glistening beneath the sun, shimmering like a thousand diamonds.  The album is awash in these kinds of lush atmospheres, from the slow melodic draw of ‘Andromeda’ to the mysterious, dizzying synths of ‘Movies.’  My favorite track, ‘Everyday’, is actually the exception to the rule with its celebratory Beatles/Beach Boys aura – most of Titanic Rising is thoughtful, soft, and ephemeral; this effortless, graceful glide through some of the prettiest indie-pop of the year.

Craig Finn – I Need A New War

With I Need A New War, I found myself more invested in the stories that Craig Finn wrote than the actual music.  That may seem like a bit of a backhanded compliment – and normally it might be, if the lyrics weren’t so gripping.  Finn tells a depressing series of stories about specific, but very average, “nobody” Americans –  Francis, Carmen, Anne-Marie, Shane – these people who work dead-end jobs and/or exist within dead-end relationships and have relatively little going for them.  Finn might not sum it all up any better than when he sings, “you travel your whole life just to get out to the place you’re gonna die.”  Futility is a theme of the record, as is the hope that is born from starting anew – a.k.a. I Need A New War.  Vocally, he falls somewhere between Kozelek and Oberst – he doesn’t dazzle us with catchy melodies or over-the-top choruses.  The relative blandness of his delivery is also on-theme, however, considering that singing about such tragically hopeless people in any other tone would seem disingenuous.  Instead, he lets the occasional instrumental flare inject color into the monotony – like the string-swept ‘Indications’, replete with hazy ahh’s and a gorgeous brass section.  That’s how Finn holds our interest – partially though subtle instrumental accents, but mostly through his tales of characters that appear to be very much based in reality.

Tyler, The Creator – Igor

Igor is better than Flower Boy.  It sees Tyler expand his sound to all corners – from the summer jam that is ‘Gone, Gone / Thank You’ to the soul/funk closer ‘Are We Still Friends?’ to the blistering rap verses of ‘What’s Good.’  It’s also his most accessible piece to date, offering a pop-infusion that makes nearly every song addicting.  Just take the youthful club vibe of ‘I Think’, or the high-pitched callback vocals on ‘I Don’t Love You Anymore.’  Adding to the intrigue is that the album espouses something of a mini-concept about relationships: from the impassioned neon lights of infatuation to the inevitable falling out and subsequent breakup.  As an indie-rock/folk guru, it takes a lot to get me to notice a hip-hop record these days, but Igor is a glowing – don’t make me say it – masterpiece.

Plastic Mermaids – Suddenly Everyone Explodes

I already talked a little about Plastic Mermaids in the “best new artist” section, but they’re so much more than just a fresh face.  Suddenly Everyone Explodes legitimately could have become an AOTY contender in a lesser year; 2019 was just too stacked to afford this brilliant psych-pop debut much of a chance.  Still, this is an album that everyone needs to hear yet practically nobody has.  From explosively fun and unpredictable (‘1996’) to romantic acoustic ballads (‘I Still Like Kelis’) to soulful, uplifting epics (‘Yoyo’), Suddenly Everyone Explodes is the kind of psychedelic record capable of netting an enormous fanbase if only the word got out.  Right now they’re still very much under-the-radar, so I suggest you get on the hype train now.  It takes a few listens to sink in, but eventually these subtle melodies will claw their way into your brain and never let go.

Shura – forevher

Shura’s sophomore LP witnesses her transformation from ordinary indie pop to full on electronic pop, and it’s an evolution that suits her perfectly.  The album’s concept was born out of Aleksandra Denton’s new love; a same-sex, transatlantic relationship that captures both glowing intimacy and the strains/stressors of maintaining a long distance arrangement.  The album is at its best during the sexy groove and sugary melody of ‘Side Effects’, but offers an unexpectedly atmospheric component in its slower moments – such as ‘BKLYNLDN’, which floats in ecstasy atop fluttering synths.  ‘The Stage’ is one of the best midtempo art-pop songs of the year, while the horn section in ‘Princess Leia’ adds an experimental component.  Front to end, this might actually be the most consistent pop album of the year – there’s not a single song I skip.  They’re all interesting, memorable, and fun.  What more can you ask for?

Angel Olsen – All Mirrors

All Mirrors is the kind of album that only certain artists have the talent to pull off. It’s sweepingly orchestral; strings flourish in the background – often haphazardly swelling to the forefront – with an inebriated kind of delight that might sound foolish in lesser hands. Pianos dance with a crystalline elegance that shouldn’t mesh so well with their surroundings, yet they do anyway. Olsen’s voice alternates between sweet, soft-spoken verses and bold awakenings that command control of the room. It’s this delectable balance between meek rock and lustrous, agile pop that not only serves as a series of emotional vignettes, but also as ear candy. Here, Olsen has created an undeniable stunner that should go down as one of the strongest art-pop albums of the year.

Patrick Watson – Wave

Make no mistake: this is Watson’s magnum opus. It’s lo-fi, although it sounds anything but sparse. Watson’s vocals permeate the room with desperation, while synths rise and fall so subtly that by the time a track reaches its emotional apex, you’re not sure how you arrived at that point. Piano keys ring out with a glass-tinged, reflective smoothness that causes them to sound as if they’re being played in a roofless cathedral beneath a starlit sky. Scattered warbles fade in and out of focus like a voice yearning to be heard from a dimension barely beyond our reach. Gorgeous female vocals chime in on ‘Wild Flowers’ and ‘Drive’ like angels descending upon Watson’s own person hell. Drums thump quietly, but with a definitive sense of finality. Strings punctuate his most poignant confessions, but never threaten to draw attention away from the sullen content. Wave is texturally and aesthetically jaw-dropping, perfected by an artist who clearly took his time accentuating the beauty and sadness of every moment.

Great Grandpa – Four of Arrows

Great Grandpa blindsided me.  I wasn’t sure what to expect never having heard the artist prior to Four of Arrows, but it certainly wasn’t that they would be the ideal blend of The Cranberries and Hop Along.  It’s safe to say I actually like Great Grandpa better than either of those artists so far, based on this small sample size.  Four of Arrows is an album of mini-crescendos, these slowly intensifying indie rock songs that combine raw, emotional vocals with glistening, smooth atmospheres.  ‘Digger’ and ‘Mostly Here’ are immediate highlights, but there really isn’t a poor – or even underwhelming – song on the album.  It’s as consistently beautiful and breathtaking as modern indie-rock records come.  If it had just a few additional memorable choruses/melodies, we’d be discussing this under the album of the year column.  Of course, as time wears on and this release continues to grow, I may regret that it wasn’t in that spot to begin with.

Wilderun – Veil of Imagination

Holy this-is-what-Opeth-should-have-been-doing-since-2010!  Wilderun’s latest is a breathtaking whirlwind of intense growls and earth-shattering electric guitars, but even more so theatrical strings, orchestral movements, and progressive leanings.  It feels like it is meant to score some epic, hour-long battle scene in middle earth, and I of course mean that in the best way possible.  It reminds me of an even more progressively open-minded Watershed – which just happens to be my favorite metal album of the last couple decades – so it was never in doubt that Veil of Imagination was going to score huge points with me.  This has the opportunity to put Wilderun on many more listeners’ maps, and that’s a level of exposure that they’ve very rightly earned with this heavy, glorious, and surprisingly listenable piece.

Low Roar – ross.

Low Roar is a group that has evolved over the course of each release, whether it’s the humble, cozy folk of the self-titled debut, the more expansive post-rock leanings of 0, or the electronic infusion that occurred on Once in a Long, Long While. ross. sees them roll all these influences together, while also taking a turn towards accessible track lengths and gleaming indie-folk atmospheres (albeit with no shortage of beautiful accents and jaw-dropping aesthetics). It will make you want to sail the ocean at sunset, go stargazing from a city rooftop, or embark upon a long walk on a foggy morning. Low Roar has always maintained those very natural, earthy undercurrents in their music, and it’s a motif that continues in plenty on their fourth full-length endeavor. If Low Roar is a product of life’s most beautiful moments, then each album they’ve created is a series of snapshots taken along the way. With ross., prepare to have your breath taken away – again.

FKA Twigs – Magdalene

Magdalene combines the addicting complexity of M3LL155X’s production aesthetics with the more elaborate and thoughtful songwriting of LP1.  She’s darker than ever, and the additional presence of glitchy, codified production adds a chaotic sense of contrast to her gorgeously smooth vocals.  Also, at just nine songs, it feels like only the best cuts were utilized.  As she combines Bliblical imagery with subtle pushes for women’s rights, FKA Twigs crafts a piece that is both artistic and highly topical.  She reaches her pinnacle with ‘Fallen Alien’ – a rhythmically complex and aesthetically rich R&B/pop track that aspires to epic heights with high-pitched, digitally-altered chants of “I feel the lightning blast.”  Even aside from the clear highlights, just about every song here could be considered one of her strongest: ‘home with you’, ‘sad day’, and cellophane’ would all be decade-definers for any other pop star.  Stepping back to put Magdalene in context, it’s clear that FKA Twigs has created the best album of her career.

Coldplay – Everyday Life

Yes, this gets another mention!  Coldplay crashed the 2019 party late, but it still managed to impress me enough to earn multiple honors, including this runner-up mention.  This feels like the most complete Coldplay album in ages, rivaled only by the band’s career high water mark Viva La Vida in its ability to balance careful experimentation with pop sensibilities.  While the lyrics of Chris Martin have never caused a cathartic experience, Everyday Life is otherwise towering.  It’s incredibly catchy and memorable, while also pushing the boundaries of what this band is capable of accomplishing.  We all thought that they’d settled for the grandiose, neon pop of Mylo Xyloto and A Head Full of Dreams, but thankfully this album proves those releases to be naught but a phase.

Category VII: Album of the Year

The best albums of 2019.

The Nominees (7):

Copeland – Blushing

Blushing was pretty much tailor-made for someone like me.  It’s a glowing, romantic concept album that also delves into existentialism.  Musically, it’s pinned up by cinematic, string-swept indie-pop and a hazy, dream-like ambience.  If you have even the slightest flair for the dramatic, Blushing is a towering achievement.  If I had been totally honest with my “songs of the year” nominees, nearly half of Blushing would have been up there – ‘Pope’, ‘As Above, So Alone’, ‘Colorless’, ‘Skywriter’, and ‘Strange Flower’ are all among the best tracks I’ve heard from 2019.  The moments between those gems are nearly just as good, too.  Each song has its own unique trait, whether it’s an unexpected orchestral flourish or change-up in tempo.  The most remarkable thing about Blushing, however, isn’t even how incredible it sounds – it’s the lyrics.  I’ve lost track of all my favorite verses here, but frontman Aaron Marsh pretty much comes across as a tragic poet from start to end, penning beautiful imagery like “Still your body curves, it bends like time” or “You’re sweet like wine against my lips” alongside darker passages such as “These days I’m terrified of silence / My thoughts unbearable in the quiet” and “Some nights he screams into the infinite / Tries to write a line that will outlive him.” It’s a gorgeous intertwining of heart-skipping romance and philosophical poetry – and absolutely one of the top albums of the year and the decade.

Glen Hansard – This Wild Willing

Hansard is an artist that has resided in my peripheral for a while – I’d heard of him, knew he was respected for various reasons, and maybe even heard the occasional song snippet.  Nothing, however, could have prepared me for this magnum opus.  For the unwitting, This Wild Willing is a glorious blindsiding – a wake up call to Hansard’s creative chops.  There’s an urgency to this record that elevates it above his folk contemporaries, whether it’s the brooding simmer of the opener ‘I’ll Be You, Be Me’, the shouted crescendo on ‘Don’t Settle’, or the splendorous clashing of guitars, drums, cymbals, and choral harmonies during ‘Fool’s Game.’  The album has something of a yin and yang going on, with the first half espousing a rock-inclined, post-folk, while the back half is dominated by acoustic troubadour balladry a la Damien Rice.  One thing that never changes throughout is the extremely high quality, as This Wild Willing is beautiful and memorable regardless of how it breaks form from one half to the next.  My lack of context with respect to Hansard’s greater career precludes me from making exclamatory remarks about The Wild Willing’s standing within his own discography – but I can confidently assert that the record, independent of his own canon, is a standalone masterpiece. It’s the kind of album capable of captivating a new audience; an evolution from traditional Irish troubadour folk that is both dark and masterful.

Kishi Bashi – Omoiyari

With Omoiyari, Kaoru Ishibashi has crafted his Carrie & Lowell. The parallels extend beyond this record’s obvious folk aesthetic, a pastoral sound resulting from pristine acoustics and string-laden verses. Much like Stevens’ celebrated indie-folk icon, Omoiyari is also an album born out of suffering – in this case not the death of a single familial figure, but rather the internment camps that housed over one hundred thousand Japanese citizens during World War II.  It covers a sad but very important moment in history – yet at the same time it can sound more like a simple love album to the casual listener, in part due to Ishibashi’s forays into specific tales of romance.  Sonically, it is Kishi Bashi’s richest-sounding and most fundamentally beautiful album – from the acoustics that infuse ‘Penny Rabbit’ and ‘Marigolds’ to the emotive violins that underscore album highlight ‘Summer of ’42.’  Even when Kaoru breaks form with the rural, americana-flavored influenced ‘Annie, Heart Thief of the Sea’, he finds himself crafting yet another shimmering gem.  This is a case of an artist at the top of his game, who can seemingly do no wrong.

Bad Books – III

There’s no way around it: III is a masterpiece of modern indie folk. Bad Books have in every way lived up to the potential of a so-called “supergroup”, combining the best aspects of Andy Hull’s and Kevin Devine’s artistry, with help in no small part from Robert McDowell’s atmospheric guitar wizardry. The songs themselves are rich, lush, and flourishing – yet totally simplistic. The otherworldly vocals do as much as any instrument to contribute to an atmosphere that is hauntingly cold and distant, but able to burst through in waves of warmth and acceptance on a whim.  It’s been coined as “Simon and Garfunkel…in space” by another publication, and I won’t even refute it.  Lyrically, III ranges from contemporary and literal to symbolic and metaphysical, and just about every verse along the way reads like a famous existential quotation. This album, especially in the context of the group’s self-titled 2010 debut and 2012’s II, is a testament to the growth of each individual in the band – both as musicians and as people. It’s an achievement in modern social-political commentary that is neither cliched nor preachy, as well as a triumph of the spirit – in both a literal and an ethereal sense.

Lisel – Angels on the Slope

Angels on the Slope had an immediate and gratifying impact upon me that I don’t recall ever experiencing before in my life, save for perhaps the first time that Kid A caught my ear. I levy such hefty praise upon Lisel’s debut album because I truly believe it to be of a higher kind of music – an echelon reserved for the most brilliant, forward-thinking minds. The sounds that Eliza Bagg (Pavo Pavo vocalist and collaborator with the likes of Julianna Barwick and Tim Hecker) concocts are complex and geometric, but undeniably melodic in such a way that preserves the integrity of the music. What I mean by this is that artistry is more than just the application of intricate musical theories, or the haphazard juxtaposition of notes; it takes a keen ability to straddle the line between blazing a new frontier and writing something that somebody can actually sit down with, enjoy, and call music. This is where Bagg is at her best, crafting an elaborate and sophisticated piece that feels totally unique, but could also be qualified, digested, and enjoyed as indie-pop.  Lisel, as a project, seems to have already fulfilled her vision. It’s a bold venture into the unknown lights and shadows of experimental pop, a piece that immediately stamps Bagg’s name as the most innovative and promising artist to debut this year. As she sings on the fragile, gorgeous closer ‘This Time Tomorrow’: don’t delay, make waves. This is a personal and professional tidal wave.

Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds – Ghosteen

Skeleton Tree forever changed the way we will look at Nick Cave. Following the tragic death of his teen son Arthur, the record – which was mostly written prior to his passing – saw its lyrics amended by a grieving Cave to befit themes of death and loss. Of course, the pain in his voice throughout the actual recording process was so palpable that it became an inescapable facet of Skeleton Tree’s atmosphere. Ghosteen presents an interesting conundrum on the heels of that emotional wreckage. How do you come back from the death of your son and make an album? Despite the four years that have now passed since Arthur was found at the bottom of that cliff, Nick is still understandably grappling with his absence. The album was never going to be able to return to the comparatively upbeat rock of Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus, a phase of the Bad Seeds that appears to be firmly rooted in their past due to a combination of Mick Harvey’s departure and Cave’s current life situation.  Nobody would have blamed Nick if he was still entombed in depression either, although nothing he could write now would be able to echo the immediacy of Skeleton Tree’s shattering circumstances. Ghosteen takes on the hollowed-out ambience of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ last two outings – somehow becoming even more minimal in the process – while coloring that emptiness with brighter and more uplifting accents. Most of the songs here offer little beyond Cave’s vocals and lyrics, but whereas the pervading tone of Skeleton Tree was inevitably morose, Ghosteen is painted with more hopeful hues. Synths swell with Cave’s existential musings in gorgeous time, underscored by pianos that lend the double album an air of majesty. This presents something of an unexpected crossroads moment this late in his career, but in typical Nick Cave fashion, he embraces the challenge and more than pulls it off with a seamless fusion of familiarity and progression.

Lana Del Rey  – Norman Fucking Rockwell

Whew – now this one absolutely steamrolled any expectations I might have had.  Lana Del Rey has been an artist of middling results for me since her inception back at the start of the decade.  It seemed that for every hit she would manufacture, there would be two or three album cuts that simply weren’t noteworthy in any particular way.  It’s how I felt about Born To Die, which featured ‘Video Games’ and the title track but very little else that I actively recall.  Ultraviolence was the same way (‘Brooklyn Baby’, ‘West Coast’), and then Honeymoon and Lust For Life perhaps even saw her impact further diminish.  After nine years and four good-not-great records, LDR had fallen into the dreaded “singles” artist category – I assumed I’d be skimming Norman Fucking Rockwell for the best cuts and ignoring the rest – you know, the usual practice for any of her albums.  But then the opening track struck, leaving me dizzied and begging for more.  Unexpectedly, I got it – over and and over again – in the form of ‘Mariners Apartment Complex’, ‘Venice Bitch’, ‘Fuck It, I Love You’, ‘How To Disappear’, ‘The Greatest’, ‘Happiness is a Butterfly’, ‘Hope is a Dangerous Thing…’, and the list goes on.  There are certainly tier drops in quality, but never has a Lana Del Rey album had such a high hit vs. miss ratio for me – even my alleged “misses” – the Sublime cover and the mildly repetitive ‘Bartender’ – are well-executed and highly listenable.  At the end of the day my advice is this: If you’ve always loved LDR but felt like her potential was wasted on hit-or-miss albums, then Norman Fucking Rockwell deserves your immediate attention.  It is the culmination of all her talents into a generational statement of a pop record. That term is thrown around lightly these days, but it fits here given the social and political commentary present. No other artist in the industry could have made NFR, the way it is, in and of itself a jaw-droppingly beautiful assessment of this world spiralling into chaos. Del Rey sits back coolly and sings about it like a passive spectator of the apocalypse, and it’s consistently chill-inducing.  Norman Fucking Rockwell is the stone cold classic we always knew she had in her.

And The Winner Is:

This one surprised even me, but then again, Norman Fucking Rockwell is unprecedented. This is the album we’ve been screaming for since she first flashed potential at the start of the decade.  It’s all too fitting, then, that she closed the book on the 2010s with her most daring, complete album which qualifies as an instant classic in every sense of the word.

Bonus Category: 2019 Mixtape

A personally curated playlist of my absolute favorites from the past year.