#37 - Bon Iver- Bon Iver

Bon Iver - Bon Iver

Jagjaguar, 2011

“What’s Justin Vernon going to do once he leaves the cabin?” I wondered. I was an early adopter of For Emma, Forever Ago and that album hit me at just the right time (read: amidst a year of pure heartbreak). I wasn’t shocked when its eponymous follow-up hit me at just the right time (read: falling in love with my soulmate) yet again. “Blood Bank” led me to believe that Vernon’s songwriting might become more direct, but no, he went the Loveless route of essentially using words as another instrument. I still love this album, but not as much as I did in 2011 when Jenny and I would just lay in my bed and listen to it all the way through. There’s nothing more romantic than a big, ethereal track like “Holocene.” Or the 80s synths and the emotional intensity of the epic closer “Beth, Rest.” Moreover, even though the lyrics are frequently nonsensical, designed more as evocative wordscapes than meant to tell you something, the melodies are outstanding all the way through. Vernon only got more out there as the decade wore on, and while 22, A Million and i, i are both great records, I don’t think either of them can touch this one. Part of that is by virtue of this one having such a strong nostalgic and emotional pull, but it is what it is.

#38 - The Mountain Goats - Beat the Champ

The Mountain Goats - Beat the Champ (2015) (Merge) 

This topped my list of favorite albums of 2015, but that year was, to quote the musical Spring Awakening, totally fucked. I spent January through December in full on death anxiety mode as I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, went through two radioactive iodine treatments each with a week spent in isolation, and a gnarly neck dissection where I spent almost a week in the hospital, three weeks recovering at home, and all I got was a lousy scar that looks like a drug lord tried to assassinate me and left me for dead but I survived, dammit. Beat the Champ and The Tallest Man on Earth’s Dark Bird is Home (more on that one later) were my companions through the periods of isolation, and Beat the Champ in particular was a wonderful distraction. In fact, it’s the reason I started watching pro wrestling again. I was a huge WWF fan in the late 90s when wrestling was resurgent, but I lost interest once the Monday Night Wars ended when WWF bought WCW. From the isolation chamber (read: my old bedroom in my parents basement) I checked out the WWE Network and the rest is history. My fandom was renewed. Thanks, John Darnielle.

Despite being a Mountain Goats diehard, this is weirdly the only one of their five 2010s albums to make the list. I’m not sure why that is. All Eternals Deck contended, and while I love all of their records, it might be that I have such a strong connection to the records from the 00s (Tallahassee and The Sunset Tree in particular, both of which are likely Top 10 of the century for me)that these are just like a fun bonus. Beat the Champ has a special place due to it being my partner in trauma, but I think Darnielle did a great job covering all of these different perspectives and fascinating elements of the wrestling world while also making an album that felt as personal as everything else he does. “Heel Turn 2” in particular is one of the absolute songs of the decade, and I have a real affinity for the jaunty “Foreign Object” where Darnielle gleefully sings, “I’m gonna stab you in the eye with a foreign object.” He canonizes legends like Chavo Guerrero Sr and Bull Ramos with these sweet tales of men living through countless battles to enjoy their old age, and pens one of the most deeply moving tracks in his catalog in “Unmasked,” about a masked wrestler booked to lose a mask vs. mask match and set to reveal his face to the world. Darnielle showed that there was grace in something as barbaric and impolite as professional wrestling, and that’s just what he does. He shines his light on the dark corners of the world and shows you that there is worth in these hidden places. That’s his great gift as a storyteller (his two novels--2014’s Wolf in White Van and 2017’s Universal Harvester--are as good as you think they would be) and even though his records don’t quite takeover my mind, body, and spirit like they used to, it still gives me tremendous comfort that he’s out there working his magic.

#39 - Advance Base - Animal Companionship

Advance Base - Animal Companionship

Run For Cover, 2018

The memory of my buddy Jon playing turning me onto Casiotone for the Painfully Alone in high school is a strong one. Or I think it is. Or he told me about the band. And I remember hearing “To My Mr. Smith”--the leadoff track from 2003’s Twinkle Echo–in all of its wonky, blown out glory. I certainly hadn’t heard anything like that up to that point in my nascent post-punk rock loyalist appreciation of indie rock, and it established my deep appreciation for Owen Ashworth’s music. On Twinkle Echo’s 2006 follow-up, Etiquette, the poor, lo-fi quality of previous Casiotone releases (which certainly had its charms) is replaced with a cleaner studio sound, and the songs were the best Ashworth had written up until that point. It was a perfect refinement, and a big reason why Etiquette is one of my favorite albums of the 2000s.

After absorbing Etiquette and its follow-up--2009’s Vs. Children--coinciding with Ashworth renaming his project Advance Base, I lost touch. I’m not sure why that happened, and while I vaguely remember 2012’s A Shut-in’s Prayer, I was aghast to realize Ashworth had released two more Advance Base records before dropping 2019’s sublime Animal Companionship. Better late than never I suppose, and man oh man is this a great record. Ashworth has clearly been honing his songwriting in the intervening years, and the results are an album full of brilliant and touching lo-fi pop. The first two tracks in particular–“True Love Death Dream” and “Dolores & Kimberly”--are like a one-two punch of poignancy and a personal reminder for me to never sleep on Advance Base.

#40 - Sturgill Simpson - Metamodern Sounds in Country Music

Sturgill Simpson - Metamodern Sounds in Country Music

High Top Mountain, 2014

Putting this one on for the first time in a couple years, I still have the same immediate reaction: “Goddamn, that sumbitch can SING.” Sturgill Simpson does his best to channel the ghosts of the outlaw country legends and does a hell of a job. It’s a country record for the people who listen to “everything but country.” Or maybe not. That’s a stupid answer to “what kind of music do you like” anway so I can’t expect those plebes would appreciate Simpson’s gifts. In addition to his commanding voice, he’s a hell of a songwriter. Opener “Turtles All the Way Down” is country music by way of an LSD trip and it’s a fascinating contrast. His cover of When in Rome’s 80s pop hit “The Promise” transforms the track into a melancholy torch song, and when it hits that crescendo, man just look out. If you’re not a true believer at that point I don’t know what to tell you. This is one of those albums that ticks all of the boxes. The songs are great, the lyrics are introspective, the musicians are locked in, and there’s not a dud to be found. This definitely still holds up five years later and I think we have an enduring classic on our hands.

#41 - Sufjan Stevens - Carrie & Lowell

Sufjan Stevens - Carrie & Lowell 

Asthmatic Kitty, 2015

Remember when we used to wonder what state Sufjan Stevens would make an album about next? I definitely wondered, but I also did the math and figured it would be unlikely for someone to spend their entire career making albums about states. Fortunately, that was all a big joke and Sufjan Stevens has spent the intervening years since 2005’s Illinois releasing the skritchy experimental pop record The Age of Adz (2010) and the sparse, breathtakingly gorgeous tribute to his mother and stepfather Carrie & Lowell. The album is one of the most hushed and gorgeous records you will ever hear, and yet it’s not an album you need to prepare yourself for like, say, Mount Eerie’s A Crow Looked at Me (an honorable mention, only missing the list because I only listened to it once, wept deeply, and never wanted to listen to it again even though it is a profound work of art). You can spend time with this one without it ruining your day, and despite how quiet it is, there are serene moments of joy and comfort. It’s an album of fractured nostalgia, tarnished by reality and the passage of time and life’s inevitability. I saw Stevens perform at the Bottleneck when he was touring Illinois, and I thought that show felt a little hollow. He seemed burnt out, and the songs didn’t carry the gravity that they did when I listened to them at home. Carrie & Lowell feels like Sufjan Stevens re-centering himself by recording his sparsest album to date and yet also his most affecting. It’s nice to see that sound has carried over into his recent singles (“Tonya Harding” and the Oscar nominated song from Call Me By Your Name “Mystery of Love). It’s not that I’m a Luddite, and that I think he should throw his synthesizer and computer into the trash, I just feel like he communicates so well in this form that I don’t ever want him to stop.

#42 - Neko Case - Hell-On

Neko Case - Hell-On

Anti, 2018

Hell-On missed the initial draft of this list. But looking back at My Favorite Records of 2018, I remembered I had it all the way up at #3, which led to a re-visitation, which led to it bumping Jens Lekman’s I Know What Love Isn’t (still an honorable mention) and leapfrogging five or so other records on this list. Thus is the power of Neko Case, and if this were a proper Best Of this is probably a Top 10 no doubter. Every Neko Case album is an event, and she is one of the rare artists who has not only never made a misstep, but consistently ups her game each time out. Though my heart still belongs to Fox Confessor Brings the Flood (which is why this one isn’t higher on the list), listening to this one again immediately had me sitting slack-jawed at Case’s talent. I’m immediately drawn to the more pop-oriented tunes here. Even though Neko Case’s version of an upbeat pop song is still melancholy, “Bad Luck,” “Last Lion of Albion,” and “Gumball Blue” have fantastic hooks. Which is to say nothing of Case’s songwriting, which is the shining star here. “Curse of the I-5 Corridor” is a seven-minute masterclass in the songcraft. It’s an origin story, but unlike those origin story movies that spend so much time setting up the story, Case meditations on her emergence from the Pacific Northwest with emotional gut punch after emotional gut punch. “In the current of your life/ I was an eyelash in the shipping lanes;” “I miss the smell of mystery/ Reverb leaking out of tavern doors/ And not knowing how the sounds were made;” “The crash it comes/ And pours down my public face/ Behind a reservoir of collarbones/ And forms two private lakes.” Quoting song lyrics in a review hardly ever captures the gravity the words carry in the song, but that’s why Case is a master. She’s Leonard Cohen good. Someone who painstakingly finds just the right phrasing and just keeps getting better.

#43 - Open Mike Eagle - Dark Comedy

Open Mike Eagle - Dark Comedy

Mello Music Group, 2014

During my radio days I tried very hard to add hip-hop to my regular music diet, but in the end I only felt like a poser. I should preface that by saying the very first piece of physical music media I asked my mom to buy me was the Tag Team “Whoomp! (There it Is)” cassingle from Wal-Mart when I was, what? 8 years old? I had an NWA phase in high school and I was into that less for the gangster attitude than the refreshing storytelling. I gave Kendrick Lamar a shot and really loved Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City and To Pimp a Butterfly is undeniable, but it took a long time to admit that my actual taste is much more safe than I want it to be. I made my peace with that, and it’s a big reason why I can’t call this a Best Of. Because if you’re making a Best Of To Pimp a Butterfly has to be in your Top 5 for its cultural relevance, technical prowess, and brilliant songwriting. This is a long way of me trying to convince you that I get it, it’s just that the rap I listen to on a regular basis is very specific. Open Mike Eagle’s Dark Comedy took my breath away. He’s funny, he has a point of view, and relistening to this now it fills me with so much joy. Eagle’s collaboration with stand-up comic Hannibal Burress–”Doug Stamper (Advice Raps)”--is still one of the greatest things I’ve ever heard. Every line kills. Eagle’s 2017 album Brick Body Kids Still Daydream is probably the better record (and a great one, duh), but this one is always gonna be my favorite.

#44 - Hop Along - Painted Shut

45. Hop Along - Painted Shut

Saddle Creek, 2015

The music of the 2010s is divided into two periods: the time before I heard Frances Quinlan sing and the time after. Hop Along’s breakout 2015 album Painted Shut was a paradigm shift. The decade featured dozens and dozens of young female voices busting out and altering the indie rock landscape, but Quinlan’s voice is a singular experience. Though the group’s 2018 release Bark Your Head Off, Dog is pretty much just as excellent in every way as Painted Shut, this one has the benefit of being the one that broke my brain. Maybe it’s like when people heard Janis Joplin sing for the first time. Quinlan’s vocals sound broken. Like they shouldn’t work. And yet the range she gets with her husky rasp and the versatility she displays is unlike anyone else in the game. While “Powerful Man” is the standout and the right introduction to the band’s particular brand of off-the-beaten-path indie rock, it’s the crescendo on “Horseshoe Crabs” that will make you a true believer.

#45 - Fred Thomas - All Are Saved

Fred Thomas - All Are Saved

Polyvinyl, 2015

I don’t remember how I came to All Are Saved, but I know I had thoroughly absorbed the album by the time I found out Fred Thomas was the bandleader for the excellent indie pop band Saturday Looks Good to Me. I spent a fair amount of time with their album All Your Summer Songs in my KJHK days, and it’s shocking that this is the same Fred Thomas. Thomas’ solo stuff eschews bouncy, throwback soul pop for an angular, lyrically dense sound. This record instantly grabbed me and I couldn’t figure out why. It’s a little outside of my usual wheelhouse, but I think it all comes down to Thomas’ songwriting. While there are a couple of poppy numbers here (“Cops Don’t Care Pt. II” with it’s excellent sing-a-long final chorus/outro), the squirrlier tunes are the sort that demand a deep dive. “Bad Blood” is my particular favorite. The song feels like a raw nerve and hit on a lot of truth. All Are Saved is an album that is constantly poking and prodding and forever unsettled. Though I weirdly didn't make time for 2017's Changer (outside of the magnificent "Brickwall" which is in my Top 20 songs of the 2010s if I remember correctly and was recently the centerpiece of an improvised interpretive dance I did with Rosie in the kitchen while I was cooking dinner, more on that later) and 2018's Aftering, and I don't have a good excuse for that considering how much I love this record.

#46 - Lemuria - The Distance is So Big

Lemuria - The Distance is So Big

Bridge 9, 2013

Lemuria is one of my Minnesota bands. One of the bands I listened to obsessively while we were living up there that, even though they’re from Buffalo, I still associate with long bike rides around the lakes, drives over the Mississippi on my way to work at the Half Price Books in Saint Paul, and blaring from my computer speakers alone in our apartment while Jenny was at work. My taste was changing a little in 2013 and I was revisiting a lot of the pop-punk from my teenage years looking to get  back to basics. Lemuria took that pop-punk sound, married it to indie-pop, and yet all of the songs took surprising turns. Sheena Ozzella’s vocals wouldn’t be out of place in one of the K Records twee-pop bands from the 90s, but it’s also commanding (and an excellent contrast to Drummer Alex Kerns’ deadpan vocals). The bands 2017 release Recreational Hate is a fantastic record and an honorable mention, but The Distance is So Big wins out because it feels like a celebration. It also has “Brilliant Dancer” which was my runaway favorite song of 2013 and just put that thing on and try not to get sucked in. Usually when a song takes you on a ride it’s a 7-minute epic (see: Neko Case’s “Curse of the I-5 Corridor,” Destroyer’s “Suicide Demo for Kara Walker) and Lemuria shifts the song half a dozen times in about 3-minutes and somehow it feels...cohesive? Somehow, someway. Give the track a listen and if you’re not sold I don’t know how to help the dark lump of stone in the place where your joy should be.