Bartees Strange – Farm to Table | Album Review

I’ve never been as excited to see the opener for one of my favorite bands as I was when I saw Bartees Strange supporting Car Seat Headrest. I showed up early enough to hear the blaring horns of “Heavy Heart” during soundcheck, the explosiveness of Farm To Table’s fiery, brass-backed lead single palpable even through Brooklyn Steel’s cinder block walls. I loved “Heavy Heart” just as much then, but now having heard it in the context of his sophomore album, it’s proven to be the perfect opener for a record that begs the question: once our blessings finally come, how should we receive them? 

The couplet that opens the song (and the album itself)-- “there’s reasons for heavy hearts/this past year I thought I was broken” –lets us in on the often destabilizing feeling of getting a long-awaited win after a series of losses. Though Strange takes pride in his accomplishments, he’s wary that such acclaim could compromise his values or make him lose sight of what’s been motivating him in the first place:

I never want to miss you this bad
I never want to run out like that
Sometimes I feel just like my dad, rushing around
I never saw the God in that
Why work so hard if you can’t fall back?
Then I remember I rely too much upon my heavy heart

Strange’s path to success has been a long and unconventional one, to say the least. Born Bartees Cox Jr. in Ipswich, England, the eldest son of an Air Force engineer father and an opera singer mother, he had a transient, international childhood before settling in Mustang, Oklahoma at age 12. Much of his early musical education came in the form of church choir performances and piano and vocal lessons from his mom. During high school and his first year of college, he played football and had hopes of making it to the NFL, but soon realized that it wasn’t a viable enough option, and that the exploitation and lack of support he experienced as a Black student-athlete weren’t worth the risk. After transferring schools and getting his degree from Oklahoma University, he moved to Washington DC to work as an FCC press secretary under the Obama administration. Following this position, he bounced between DC and Brooklyn, producing for various artists, playing in the post-hardcore band Stay Inside, and releasing two solo EPs– a 2017 collection of folk songs titled Magic Boy under the name Bartees & the Strange Fruit, and 2020’s Say Goodbye To Pretty Boy in which he covered five songs by The National, a band he cites as one of his biggest influences (and who he’ll be supporting on an upcoming tour). Just months after releasing SGTBP, he dropped his breakout debut album, Live Forever, a transformative anti-genre behemoth that skyrocketed him to indie fame. 

Flash forward to late 2021, and it seemed like all the big-name indie rock artists were lining up to take Strange on tour. He sounded almost timid introducing himself to the crowd when I saw him open for Car Seat Headrest at their 3-night Brooklyn Steel run in March, but when he launched into a rousing performance of “Mustang,” it was as though a switch had flipped. Whatever shyness I’d seen moments earlier melted away entirely as he tore into the Live Forever single with the force of the titular horses that gallop through the track’s second verse– “I just wait for my horses now.” It’s been a slow climb, and he’s been patient, but Strange isn’t waiting anymore. Everything he’s been working toward is here for the taking. As brilliant as he was as a first act, and as deserving as he is of all the exposure he’s gotten from supporting more established artists, I saw someone who’d outgrown his indie rock opener status. His sound felt too big. His name was worthy of stadium marquees and the largest font on festival flyers. I have very little doubt that the next time I see Strange, he’ll be the one headlining. He’s more than ready for it, and Farm To Table proves that a million times over. 

It’s an album that feels present in every sense of the word, despite its watchful eye on the past. Many of these songs see Strange reflecting on his upbringing, his current perspective both illuminated and disrupted by physical and temporal distance from childhood. On the quiet, acoustic closer “Hennessy,” he examines the racist stereotypes that he was inundated with during his formative years in Mustang, Oklahoma, a city whose near-90% white population often made Strange– a Black kid who’d spent his early years living all over the world –feel like an outsider. The line “sometimes I don’t feel like I’m the man” is both a humble admission of self-doubt and a solemn contrast from the opening bars of his 2020 breakout single “Boomer,” in which he boasts, “aye bruh, aye bruh, aye bruh/look I’m the man.” Before launching into a dissolving, multilayered outro, Strange attempts to find solace through love and community: “Hold you in my arms, remind you that you’re gold/Can’t feel the pain if I’m holding onto you.” He doesn’t sound entirely sure of himself but nonetheless clings to whatever semblance of hope he has left.

“Black Gold” and “Tours” also focus on Strange’s childhood memories. On the former, he alternates from a gravelly baritone to a shimmering falsetto as he attempts to reconcile past mistakes with current wisdom:

I was way too rough with how I left my town
Now it’s big city lights for a country mouse
I can recall waiting for you
I feel you now, with every move

The lyrics are interspersed with what sounds like audio from a home video, fuzzy recordings of people singing and chattering over a delicate string arrangement that evokes the flickering of fireflies on a summer evening.

On “Tours,” Strange draws thematic parallels between the demands of his father’s military job and those of his current-day career as a touring musician. Much like in “Heavy Heart,” he finds himself considering the toll his father’s distance took on his family and suggesting that his own tours might have similar effects on his loved ones in the present day. Throughout this reckoning, he maintains a deep sense of gratitude toward both of his parents, which comes in the form of memory preservation. The nature of memory is fragmented in and of itself, and like many of us, Strange feels obligated to retain as much as he can so as not to lose crucial chapters of his– and his family’s –personal history. He becomes his parents’ archivist, weaving their shared experiences into a musical narrative to overcome the risk of losing these precious stories. Even the ones that are painful to look back on are worth holding on to:

Wipe the tears from her face
Mom would break down once a day
Looking back, I know that she tried so hard
When I’d hide from thunder, scared that I’d wake my mother
If I were my father I’d wonder who’s checking for monsters

The childlike confusion and melancholia of “Tours” leads beautifully into “Hold The Line,” the album’s third single, dedicated to Gianna Floyd. In a statement released along with the single, Strange said that the song was inspired by “watching George Floyd’s daughter talk about the death of her father and thinking wow– what a sad introduction to Black American life for this young person.” Then-six-year-old Gianna not only experienced the unimaginable loss of her father but was also forced to grieve for an international audience. You’d see photos of her visiting the White House and video footage of her testifying for her father and think, she shouldn’t have to do this. It’s unfathomable to think of how a child might even begin to make sense of such horrendous violence– violence that, sadly, is nothing out of the ordinary. Having explored his own firsthand experiences with anti-Black racism through songwriting, Strange mourns for the Black kids whose childhoods are tainted with the same hatred. He eulogizes George Floyd– “the man with that big ol’ smile” –with grief for those that he alone cannot protect. 

Strange has an innate ability to tap into the surreal powerlessness that can make being alive right now feel so paralyzing. Alt-country banger “Escape This Circus” opens with a reference to Gil Scott-Heron’s 1970 spoken-word poem “Whitey’s On The Moon”-- just as relevant now as it was then, if not more. One percent of Americans own nearly a third of the nation’s wealth, and instead of using it to feed and house those living in poverty, they’re building cars that spontaneously combust– we call this progress. Few lyrics this year have sounded quite as timely as, “I’m in a fancy place/paid too much for the room/The clerk he says to buy some crypto/he’s got holes in his shoes.” Capitalism’s a sick game that we’re all forced to play, and almost no one wins. You can hear the exhaustion in Strange’s voice as he sings, “we’re all part of this circus/we’re all on our own horses''-- once again calling to mind the horses in 2020’s “Mustang.” He’d tossed the line “I hate America” into that track with a similar sense of resignation, beaten down by a neverending dystopian carnival whose games are rigged by design. “Escape This Circus”’s true catharsis comes in its erratic, reverb-drenched outro, with Strange wailing, “that’s why I really can’t fuck with y’all,” in a desperate attempt to pull the carousel’s emergency brake and free himself.

Back in April when Strange announced that he’d signed to 4AD for his sophomore album, he made his grand entrance to the historic London record label with “Cosigns,” a sleek and celebratory trap-rock banger in which he exercises his well-earned bragging rights. In his cleverest and cockiest bars, he shouts out the big dogs that he’s playing with, including 2/3s of Boygenius, idiosyncratic Australian rocker Courtney Barnett, Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, new labelmates Big Thief, and 4AD founder Martin Mill:

I’m in LA, I’m with Phoebe, I’m a genius, damn
I’m in Chi-Town, I’m with Lucy, I just got the stamp
Hit up Courtney, that’s my Aussie, I already stan
I’m on FaceTime, I’m with Justin, we already friends
We already friends, we already friends
I’m on FaceTime, I’m with Justin, we already friends
I’m a thief when things get big, look Imma steal your fans
I’m with Martin in the mill, we grindin’, makin’ bread

The stunning music video directed by Pooneh Ghana shows Strange at the head of a stylishly set outdoor table (seemingly not far from the farm). As his impeccably dressed guests tear savagely into their meals at the song’s bridge, Strange takes off running and hides in a mystical, flower-covered cave. The braggadociousness that characterized the first half of the track is contrasted with an ambivalence about his newfound fame, and his ambition is once again at odds with the precariousness of success: “How to be full, it’s the hardest to know/I keep consuming, I can’t give it up/Hungry as ever, it’s never enough.” 

Listening to Farm To Table feels like watching an artist self-actualize in real-time. When Strange sings, “I was trying to be something wretched/Something I saw on TV,” on the album’s fourth and final single, “Wretched,” we see him fulfilling his own potential, becoming a version of himself that he both feared and aspired to. It’s yet another track in which he artfully folds these contradictions into catchy, danceable hooks. He’s cautious of the blessings he receives, wanting to celebrate them but still wondering if there’s a catch. 

Much like it was on Live Forever, his art is a struggle against mortality, a fleeting chance to create something that will transcend and outlive him. On “Mulholland Dr.”— a track rife with influence from longtime Strange favorites The National and TV On The Radio —he grapples with the ephemerality of both the sweet and the bitter, and of life itself, striving to make good use of the time he has:

I don’t believe in the bullshit
Of wondering when we die
I’ve seen the ending
It’s all in your face and your eyes
I’ve seen how we die
I know how to lose

If Live Forever earned Bartees Strange a seat at the titular table, Farm to Table not only sees him sitting at its head, but telling the story of how he got there. In the end, it’s Strange’s gratitude that keeps him– and his art –grounded. Everything he creates is imbued with a deep respect for his craft and for  those who’ve supported him. Even through the fear and anguish and regret, he shows his appreciation every step of the way. The (strange) fruits of his labor are served, and the rest of us are lucky enough to enjoy the bountiful harvest he’s provided. So say thanks, because it’s time to eat. 

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Grace Robins-Somerville is a writer from Brooklyn, New York. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter at @grace_roso.

Swim Into The Sound's 15 Favorite Albums of 2020

I don’t think anyone could have predicted how 2020 would go. Back in January, we all seemed determined to enter the new decade with a renewed sense of optimism… but that fell apart pretty quickly. Within three days, the US on the brink of war with Iran. A month in, and Australia was on fire. Three months into the year, a global pandemic sequestered us all to our homes. Midway through the summer, the pressure cooker of police brutality, racial inequality, and an ever-worsening economic reality erupted into protests, rebellion, and long-simmering (long-deserved) unrest. Cap that all off with forest fires, near-miss asteroids, murder hornets, and a demoralizing election cycle, and you’ve concocted a perfect storm of anxiety, depression, and exhaustion that made each day of 2020 feel like its own special type of hell.

This was the year of the plague. It was the year of death. It was the year that everything became unsafe for everyone. The year that half of the country came out to protest police systematically killing our black brothers and sisters in broad daylight while the other half protested bars, barbers, and Disneyland closing. It was fucked. But I’m not here to complain.

As bad as this year was for pretty much everyone, music helped keep my spirits afloat. Music has always been a creature comfort for me (as I’m sure it is for many of you reading this), and that comfort was needed this year more than ever before. It’s not like music was more important than any of those things happening out in the “real world,” but it provided a constant outlet and distraction for me when I needed it most. What I’m saying is that I know this isn’t vital to the world, but it’s vital to me.

Music is always there, ready to reflect your feelings and quell your anxieties. Music is there to vocalize the things that you cannot, affirm the way you see the world, or get you to see it from a new perspective. It’s there to support and provide a sense of ease, even years after an artist has released it into the world. It’s an outlet for emotion and a fount for creativity. As an artist, there’s nothing like releasing your creation into the world and seeing it well-met. As a listener, there’s nothing quite like discovering another group of humans out there who can sum up your thoughts and experiences succinctly over the course of an album. It’s a symbiotic relationship, and that’s something we can’t lose sight of. Music is a blessing and a resource. As humans, music is something that we need to create and something that we need to consume, and it has never been more vital than this year. 

Whether they were a distraction or a reflection, these are the 15 albums that helped me make it through one of the darkest years of my life. 

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15 | Touché Amoré - Lament

Epitaph Records

Lament is an album caught in the blurry middle ground of life. What happens after the death of a loved one? How do you handle losing family members to conspiracy theories or the cult of Donald Trump? What do you reach for when you need a reminder of love? Turns out the answer to all of these questions is you hire producer Ross Robinson and create one of the best post-hardcore records of the year. Lament possesses everything you would expect from a Touché Amoré record; there are throat-shredding bellows, whiplash-inducing blast beats, and beautifully poetic sentiments that speak to a larger human truth. There are also some unexpectedly great surprises: one of the catchiest songs of the year (with a bonus Julien Baker feature nonetheless), a soul-rendering duet with Andy Hull of Manchester Orchestra, and a confessional piano ballad to wrap things up. It’s an album that looks back on life with equal parts reverence and regret. The band seemingly knows that looking back is not inherently productive, so they spend just as much time looking forward out onto the great stretch of horizon that lies before them, questioning what comes next. In a year where music, life, and pretty much everything else that we consider remotely important felt suspended in stasis, what better time to pause, reflect, and collect ourselves for what’s to come?

14 | Deftones - Ohms

Reprise Records

Like most other Deftones albums, I have no idea what Ohms is about. Sure, I could read interviews, take in reviews, or analyze some of the lyrics, but that would take away all the fun. Also like most other Deftones albums, Ohms bears the same intoxicating mix of Chino Moreno’s piercing screams and Stephen Carpenter’s sludgy riffs. These songs sway, lumber, and envelop the listener with heavy metal perfection. At a certain point, the lyrics don’t even matter because the emotion carried in these songs speaks for itself. There’s a weight to Ohms reflected in tracks like Pompeji, Genesis, and This Link Is Dead that is simply unparalleled by any other band in the genre. Any group that makes it to nine albums is doing something right, and Deftones have stuck to their sound faithfully and completely for three decades. That alone is worthy of praise. The band’s 2020 release comes off as well-rehearsed chaos. Ohms bears the full weight of the emotional spectrum, but, as usual, Deftones somehow manage to make it look easy.

13 | Seahaven - Halo of Hurt

Pure Noise Records

If Reverie Lagoon is a warm, sandy beach with light glinting off the summer water and Winter Forever is… well, winter, then Halo of Hurt is the soundtrack to a cursed late-fall. From the winding knotty basswork to the haunted, witchy lyricism, this album practically oozes spooky energy. Fittingly released in November, Halo of Hurt is a dark and menacing record that takes cues from Brand New and the alt-emo of the early 2000s but modernizes it in the most impactful way. From second one, this record creeps forward with sinister intent. The band counterbalances this abject darkness with uplifting choruses and beguiling instrumentals that offer glimpses into something lighter. It’s an intoxicating combination that transfixes me every time I put the record on. It’s haunting, stark, beautiful, and inward. If it takes the band seven years between releases to turn out an album of this quality, then I say take as much time as you need. 

12 | Sinai Vessel - Ground Aswim

Self-released

Whenever I write a review for an album, I always find it hard to cover again in the context of an Album of the Year list. First off, I feel like I’ve already said everything I need to on the topic; reviews are written to be comprehensive and delve into every aspect of an album. Second, how do I take an 800+ word analysis and synthesize it down to a single paragraph? Turns out it’s easy with Sinai Vessel’s sophomore album. The sentiment of my review still stands; Ground Aswim remains a beautiful, careful, meditative listen that points its listener towards the refuge of a calmer life, yet it’s also an album that evolves with you over time. 

From the whisper-quiet remorse of the opening track to the winding wonder of the closer, Ground Aswim is an album that changes each time I listen to it. There are pointed Oso Oso-esque cuts like “Shameplant” alongside songs of painfully emotive loss like “Guest In Your Life.” While the messages and lyrics of these tracks never change (self-growth and dying relationships, respectively), the topics shift depending on what you bring to them as the listener. They’re evergreen subjects that can always be applied to our ever-complicated lives. Depending on what you’re experiencing in your life at the time, these songs can sound completely different, and you’ll always take away something new with each listen. Ground Aswim is a record that poses a series of emotive prompts to the listener and leaves them enough space to fill in the blanks. It’s a beautiful, wondrous, and precious release that ponders, jangles, and reverberates its way deep into the ventricles of your heart. 

11 | Hot Mulligan - you’ll be fine

No Sleep Records

Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘a white dude putting an emo band on his album of the year list, how original,’ but I swear that you’ll be fine is better than any of those descriptors would lead you to believe. Look no further than the opening few seconds of the record which kick things off with an aggressive drum line and a frantic bout of tappy emo guitarwork. It’s an all-out assault on the senses, a moshpit-inducing volley that immediately signals Hot Mulligan has ascended to a new level musically. That feeling of an artistic level-up is firmly backed up by the lead singles “Feal Like Crab,” “BCKYRD,” and “Equip Sunglasses,” each of which pair Tades Sanville’s whiny yelp with Chris Freeman’s emo croon. Other highlights include the overwrought “Green Squirrel In Pretty Bad Shape” and the electronic-drum-led “SDPS,” which ends up feeling like a spiritual sequel to “How Do You Know It’s Not Armadillo Shells?” These are songs that beg to be performed live in a room full of sweat-covered strangers who have memorized every word and know every beat. You may not know these people, and they may not know you, but you both know all the words to “OG Blue Sky,” and that is enough.

10 | Dogleg - Melee

Triple Crown Records

Melee is an LP years in the making. After countless gigs, lineup changes, and onstage handstands, Dogleg finally revealed their energetic debut album to the world earlier this year on March 13th, just days before society ground to a halt thanks to COVID-19. Look no further than any videos on Twitter, the band’s own music videos, or this very blog for evidence that Dogleg is a band that thrives in the live setting. Robbed of that outlet, the world in which Melee was conceived of and created in no longer exists, and that hurts. Watching the group shred on Audiotree or smash household objects in a freezing Michigan garage is a nice substitute, but everything pales in comparison to being pressed up against a wall of strangers and friends yelling “I’VE BEEN. SET UP. YET AGAIN.” as the serotonin in your body spikes to unforeseen levels. 

Instead, Melee offers an alternate reality; it presents a world in which things didn’t go so far off the rails. An alternate reality where we could take in all of these shredding riffs, swinging bass lines, and agro drum fills in real-time together. This album captures the feeling of seeing Dogleg live better than any of the band’s previous recordings, and that alone is an achievement. We can only hope that we’ll all be back in that freezing Michigan garage again soon because that’s what I’m looking forward to most once this is all over.

9 | Guitar Fight From Fooly Cooly - Soak

Self-Released

Listening to Guitar Fight From Fooly Cooly is the audio equivalent of the let’s fucking goooo meme. Within two seconds of pressing play on Soak, you’re greeted with an infamous broken English Mario clip followed by a barrage of jittery emo guitar tapping and frantic drumming. As the band jostles the listener around with energy drink riffs, a flurry of gleeful Mario sound effects score your increasingly-elated emotions as your serotonin rises… and that’s only the first minute. Over the course of the album’s remaining 26 minutes, the group shepherds the listener from Kingdom Hearts samples to throat-shredding screams with skill and ease. The entire release is a free-spirited excursion that never takes itself too seriously. It’s like those nights you spent with friends in high school where you all just gathered at someone’s house and wandered wherever your collective desires took you. Maybe you went on a midnight McDonald’s run, maybe you went into a 7-Eleven with ten bucks and came out with an armful of Arizonas and sour candy, maybe you just stayed in and smoked weed on someone’s dirty couch… maybe you did all three. There isn’t much of a point to be made or a thesis statement to be had on Soak, but much like those high school nights, not having a point kind of is the point. 

8 | Bartees Strange - Live Forever

Memory Music

I’m going to come out of the gates swinging here with a bold claim that Live Forever is one of the most creative and confident records released this year. From the floaty introduction on  “Jealousy” to the screaming synthy “Mustang,” no two tracks are alike. Bartees Strange (born Bartees Leon Cox Jr.) culls together a wide array of influences and inspiration throughout the release, resulting in an album that’s always exciting and multifaceted. Songs like the leaned-out “Kelly Rowland” and the rapid-fire “Boomer” deploy contemporary hip-hop vernacular over indie rock instrumentation resulting in a combination that’s distinctly Bartees Strange. “Stone Meadows” is a mid-album highlight that hits with the same soaring emotive weight as a National song (fitting as he also released an EP of National covers earlier this year). There are deeper, more dissonant tracks like “Flagey God” and “Mossblerd,” which lean further Bartees Strange’s electronic tendencies. These interjections come across like uncontrollable bouts of Death Grips-like energy that exist primarily keep the listener on their toes. This is an album that could only be created by Bartees Leon Cox Jr., a collection of ideas, influences, sounds, and words that have been picked up across twenty-some years of hyper-unique learned experiences. It’s a musical melting pot that beautifully reflects the unique space in which creativity flourishes most. 

7 | Barely Civil - I’ll Figure This Out

Take This To Heart Records

For now. Forever. Those are the two sentiments that lie on opposing ends of Barely Civil’s horseshoe of a sophomore album I’ll Figure This Out. While the two states are connected in theory, the path from one to the other is messy and complicated. After all, how does one go from something as temporary as “For Now…” to something as definitive as “...Forever”? How does a relationship move from ‘this is my person for now’ to ‘I love you forever’? How does life go from ‘this is my situation for now’ to ‘this is my existence forever’? It’s staggering to think about how many events make up the space between those decisions, but I’ll Figure This Out does its best to articulate what that arc feels like. 

With this album, Barely Civil took the definitively midwest emo sounds they had explored on their debut album and fleshed them out to an immensely satisfying degree. Assisted by Christ Teti of The World Is A Beautiful Place, these songs shine immaculately, basking in the glow of one of fourth-wave emo’s most influential figureheads. There’s a foreboding riff on “Graves Avenue” that is shrouded in this unshakable diabolical energy. “Box For My Organs” boasts a shreddy guitar lick that throws directly to a catchy sing-along chorus. Most notably, I’ll Figure This Out sees the band mastering the art of the build, creating dynamic emo tracks that breathe, expand, and contract, all within the space of a few minutes. “North Newhall” is a slow-burn that ignites from a jolting guitar stab and works it’s way up to a soaring affirmation. “Hollow Structures” layers on hushed vocals, precious lyricism, careful drumming, and a remorseful trumpet that all build to a fake-out ending only to erupt in a barrage of instrumentation that ends up simmering back down to the exact same place as the start. In exploring the spaces between something as tentative as ‘for now’ and something as lasting as ‘forever,’ Barely Civil managed to craft something beautiful that will live on for the rest of time. 

6 | Haim - Women In Music Pt. III

Columbia Records

One part Stevie Nicks, a pinch of Shania Twain, and a dash of Sheryl Crow. These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect indie-pop record, and the result was Women In Music Pt. III. I’ll admit I’ve always been pretty lukewarm on Haim; they were never “bad,” but they never rose above “merely pleasing” for me until this year. Over the course of the summer, Women In Music wormed its way into my heart and became the soundtrack to my season of hiking and exploration. Aside from the throwback appeal, the other aspect that kept me coming back to the record was how catchy it is. “Now I’m In It” takes a warbly 1989-era Taylor-Swift electronic bed and pairs it with a rapid-fire vocal delivery that’s as catchy as it is impressive. “Summer Girl” packs the melancholia of Barenaked Ladies’ “Pinch Me” into a singable chorus about short-lasting love. 

There are also lots of risks for what’s ostensibly presented as a pop record. Mid-album highlight “All That Ever Mattered” pairs trappy hi-hats with haunting siren wails that are capped off by a solo worthy of the late great Eddie Van Halen. Meanwhile, “FUBT” takes the sentiment of Yeah Yeah Yeah’s “Maps” but wraps it around a jangly reverb-laden guitar that allows Danielle Haim’s vocals to shine before the track makes way for a passionate guitar solo. In short, there’s lots to love about Women In Music, almost none of which I expected when I first went into the album. With just the right amount of nostalgia, love, heartbreak, and modern pop sensibilities, the Haim sisters were able to create a masterpiece worthy of absolute adoration.

5 | 100 gecs - 100 gecs and The Tree of Clues

Dog Show Records

Much like 9/11 or the OJ chase, everyone remembers where they were the first time they heard 100 gecs. Maybe you stumbled across a video on Twitter, or you saw a friend talking about them on Discord. Perhaps you saw an out-of-context pissbaby copypasta and decided to do some research. Whatever the case, your first listen to any song off 1000 gecs probably felt like a revelation, and you likely had a strong reaction one way or the other. With 1000 gecs and The Tree of Clues, the hyperpop duo has managed to make their world-shattering debut feel new again and usher in something visionary in the process. 

Whether it’s recontextualizing their songs in a live setting, getting a chorus assist from the likes of Charli XCX, or a Fall Out Boy/Chiodos team-up that completely rebuilds the track from the ground up, it’s incredible how fresh these songs still sound after dozens of listens. Over the course of the album’s 51-minute running time, the gecs allow their guests to explore hip-hop, noise-pop, and Crazy-Frog-esque EDM, all built off the foundation of last year’s debut. 

This record is a marvel of pacing, collaboration, and open-minded ideas. It’s essentially an album-length victory lap for Dylan Brady and Laura Les, who have brought a once-obscure and non-viable genre to the forefront of Twitter talk and Spotify playlists. Tree of Clues is obscure, obfuscating, and ever-changing in the best way possible. The record can radically shift sounds within a matter of seconds, which means it’s never dull. It’s like a shot of espresso injected directly into your veins; for some people, it will leave them fidgety and with a tense jaw, but for others, it will prove to be the exact sort of jolt they needed. Now that the duo has celebrated their win in style, the world waits with bated breath to see what they will do next because nobody is doing it like them. 

4 | Lake Saint Daniel - Good Things

Self-Released

Listening to Lake Saint Daniel is like looking at a painting. You stand in front of it, take it in, and eventually find yourself falling into it. This gravitational pull happens over time and occurs so gradually that you might not even notice how involved you’ve become in the piece until something snaps you back to reality. Good Things possesses this transportive power and focuses its message on the concept of youth.

Throughout the album, there are all these little reminders of things you used to do as a child. Things that you had forgotten about, ways of behaving and operating in the world that had once been so viable when you were half the size you are now. “Faking Asleep” hones in on the feeling of being a kid in the backseat on the drive home and pretending to be just sleepy enough that your parents have to carry you in. “Goodbye” fixates on the universal experience of being a kid, getting asked how old you are, and rounding up by a half year or a handful of months to seem more mature. Then, of course, there’s the beautiful cover of “Rainbow Connection” that takes the childhood classic and reimagines it to fit seamlessly within the world of the record. Daniel Radin has a knack for honing in on these universal yet hyper-specific experiences in ways that allow you remember them for the first time in years and love them once again in the process. Good Things makes you want to be a kid again but also acknowledges the reality that those experiences are forever lost to time. It’s a collection of gorgeous country-tinged lullabies for the restless, overworked, anxiety-ridden 20-something, and that’s something I desperately needed this year. This album is a reminder that there are good things in small things, no matter how far removed from them you are.

3 | Young Jesus - Welcome to Conceptual Beach

Saddle Creek

I can’t think of a single album from 2020 that had a more impactful first listen on me than Young Jesus’ Welcome to Conceptual Beach. This record had been on my radar for a while, thanks to the wonderful people over at No Earbuds, but I went into Conceptual Beach completely blind. My expectations were nonexistent, and that worked in the album’s favor. 

A vague concept album, Conceptual Beach seeks to depict the invented place that exists in lead singer John Rossiter’s head. In translating this mental refuge into music, the group utilizes everything from haunting autotune to fluttering woodwinds. Now a decade into their careers as a band, this record sees Young Jesus gracefully transitioning from emo act to flat-out indie rock, a transition many groups before have tried, but few have executed so masterfully. 

Fluctuating between aching Matt Berninger delivery, mathy Peaer instrumentals, and long stretches of jazzy post-rock jams, the band welcomes the listener to this auditory world and allows them to find their home within it. “Every record needs a thesis, needs a crisis, or campaign,” Rossiter bemoans on lead single “Root and Crown,” the record’s shortest song and (ironically) its thesis. This ballad comes after epic seven-minute builds, hypnotic repetitions, heavenly saxophone solos, and a wild whammy bar deployment. It’s a journey worthy of a Lord of the Rings movie, yet the payoff makes the entire expedition worth it.  

While the record’s first half is beautiful and unlike anything else I’d heard this year, what continues to blow me away about Conceptual Beach even now is the final suite of songs that close out the record. While the first five tracks boast skillful instrumentals, memorable choruses, and passionate deliveries, the last two entries swept me off my feet for a completely different reason. The 12-minute “Lark” follows the same format as some of my favorite songs of all time, such as “Like A River” by Sharks Keep Moving or “Goodbye Sky Harbor” by Jimmy Eat World. These songs establish a scene, build a story, then launch into long meditative instrumental stretches that allow the listener’s mind to wander and fill in the blank portions of the canvas with whatever they choose. Similarly, the 10-minute “Magicians” introduces a life filled with decisions and actions, then lets the listener fill in the gaps with their own life and experiences. 

Welcome to Conceptual Beach is depicting a world and a set of feelings that I never knew existed. I’ve found much solitude in this record, and I feel lucky I’ve had it as a realm in which to escape throughout the year. There is no other group making music quite like Young Jesus, and that’s reinforced with every molecule of this release. 

2 | Waxahatchee - Saint Cloud

Merge Records

Saint Cloud is perhaps the only piece of music this year to bring me genuine peace. Whenever it felt like the world outside was spiraling into chaos (a phenomenon I’ve experienced multiple times throughout the last 300-some-odd days), I turned to this album, and it brought me comfort the likes of which no other record could provide. Look no further than the album’s name or cover to experience the tranquil feeling of escaping into the mountains and basking in the warm glow of the sun in the back of your vintage Ford. Listening to Saint Cloud is like wrapping yourself in a warm blanket or finding yourself in the comforting arms of a lover. It is true peace.  

Album opener “Oxbow” begins with a resonant cymbal crash and a concave electronic beat that immediately commands attention. It’s a totally left-field way to open such a folksy album; this odd combination of sounds calls things to order like the three meditative bells that signal the beginning of a meditation. After this subversion, Katie Crutchfield commands the spotlight with a pastoral scene of settling and getting sober. This poetic and abstract journey leads to a repetition of “I want it all” that echoes the same sentiment as the opening track of Japanese Breakfast’s Soft Sounds From Another Planet. 

After this wholesome and homey introduction, the doors to Saint Cloud have been opened and, you have officially been welcomed in. The carefree soaring high notes of “Can’t Do Much” make way for the soft keys and remorseful delivery of “Fire.” Equal parts catchy, loving, and sorrowful, these songs possess a sort of earthy power that makes me feel deeply connected to the planet we call home. The record winds from one natural view to the next; “Lilacs” is delicate yet bouncy, waving in the air along with the summertime breeze. Meanwhile, other tracks like “Arkadelphia” spend their time depicting Crutchfield’s youth growing up in the south. 

Album closer “St. Cloud” flashes from different locations and perspectives in a way that allows Crutchfield to honor her father and connect herself to his essence forever. It’s a gorgeous, slow, and aching track that is almost too pure for this world. Much like the ten tracks that came before it, this song is just one step forward in the wholesome, naturalistic view of the world that Waxahatchee is offering over the course of the album. Saint Cloud is a beautiful peek into Katie Crutchfield’s mind that resonates with me deeply and calms my soul. I just feel fortunate we’ve been provided this escape in a year where we needed it so badly. 

1 | Carpool - Erotic Nightmare Summer

Acrobat Unstable Records

When I premiered the second single to Carpool’s debut album back in May, I had no idea I was helping unveil what would ultimately become my favorite album of the year. A virtually-unknown presence to me until 2020, Carpool is a DIY emo band hailing from Rochester, New York, who signed to the excellent Acrobat Unstable Records earlier this year and came out of the gates with some heat. 

Within the space of weeks, I went from ‘this is a fun band’ to ‘this record has defined my year’ because it feels like it was so tailor-made for me. Erotic Nightmare Summer brings together catchy pop-punk bounciness from my childhood, headstrong hardcore passages that take me back to high school, and tappy emo guitarwork that has become my go-to over the last few years. On top of this instrumental excellence you have Stoph Colasanto’s excellent writing and vocals that range from a Prince Daddy & The Hyena-esque yelp to emo softness in the vein of Macseal. Wrap all of this together and you have a collection of ten songs that bring together nearly everything I love in one place.

Opening track “Cruel Intentions” kicks things off with a slow simmer as a multi-tracked vocal line welcomes the listener to the record over a tapped guitar riff. Gradually, bass and drums turn up the heat as the lyrics become more impassioned, culminating in Colasanto’s trademarked sneer. Just as the track builds to a bouncy moshpit-inducing riff, things boil over, transitioning perfectly to “Whiskey & Xanax,” where a boppy glockenspiel is paired with a swaying emo riff equal parts danceable and moshable. I could probably write about every song on this album, but recognize album of the year write-ups are supposed to be somewhat succinct.

Whether it’s the snappy “Salty Song,” the biting “Beauty School Dropout,” the thrashy “Come Thru Cool,” or the heartfelt “Liquor Store Employee,” Erotic Nightmare Summer never makes a misstep. The fact that this record clocks in at a mere 30 minutes means it’s easy to return to and is infinitely relistenable. Erotic Nightmare Summer genuinely feels like a breath of fresh air in the emo scene; it wakes up my mind and warms my body like a good cup of coffee. Hearing these relatable topics tackled in such a laid-back yet energetic way may seem contradictory, but it’s also affirming because that reflects my own approach to life. As my leg bounces along with the drums and my mind pangs back and forth trying to keep up with the frantic guitar work, I somehow feel comforted. As I scream along to each verse and shout every chorus for no one but my steering wheel, I feel at peace. As I listen to Erotic Nightmare Summer, I feel at home.