The Top 50 Albums of 2021
Presenting the Osmosis Tones Top 50 Albums of 2021, an annual list curated by Zach. Click on the titles below to be taken to the album's corresponding Bandcamp page, and follow the playlist on Spotify for choice cuts from each LP.
Another year has gone by, and I find myself reflecting on the growth I’ve made through the struggles I’ve endured.
I began the year going every which way but forward. I was uncertain of what to do in my career and personal life, where to go in my relationships, and I felt a sense of ego death as the things that comprised my identity began to feel meaningless and trite. My depression worsened to where it dominated my daily life. For a time, I lost all passion for my life’s vocation, and lacked any sort of culinary spark that used to offer me comfort. As much as we collectively joke about that I Think You Should Leave meme, I had reached a point in my life where such a mentality was how I existed.
To be completely honest, I never thought I would be at a place in my life where I was content to live day in and day out again.
But as I addressed my struggles head on - like an adult would, if you will - I began to change myself for the better, and set myself on the path to where I wanted to be. This was truthful in my career, as my job now is as fulfilling as I’ve ever had in the culinary world. It was even more truthful for my mental health, as I received the professional help I needed to set me on the right track towards success. I rebounded in a way that I haven’t in years, and I genuinely feel like a new person - one who's destined to be content with whatever life he lives.
As it always is, music was the friend that comforted me most during my trials and tribulations. It helped recapture my spark as a human, providing the medium for me to connect with others through my own writing expressing my subjective experience. I began to contribute reviews and features to Post-Trash and HighClouds, and earned a newfound reception with my work that both humbled and flattered me, from artists and professionals alike. But beyond my own experiences of connection through writing, my connection to the music I listened to is what remained with me - and validated me - the most.
Throughout 2021, the following albums soundtracked my journey in life, while also proving to be some of the most idiosyncratic, fantastic, and above all memorable music of the year. They were there when I needed them most, when I needed to be put out of my comfort zone, or when I needed something to knock my socks off.
I hope you enjoy what I have to say, and that you give each of these records the time they deserve. Here’s to 2021. Have a blessed New Year.
- Zach Zollo
Enjoy this comparison:
Sevan is the project of Osmosis Tones’ own Luke Chobanian on guitar, Colin McGandy on bass and Cheem/Bowling Shoes’ Sean Thomas on drums. The result of their talents is their debut LP Guide Me Holy Ararat, a technical opus of progressive metal themed around the Armenian Genocide and the trauma it inflicted. As someone of Armenian heritage, Chobanian channels the spirit of his ancestors with passion and glory, telling their story with justice as much as with the fervor of the genre it occupies.
The collective talents that comprise Brockton, MA’s Van Buren Records may remind some listeners of Brockhampton, but don’t be fooled - there’s a beleaguered sense of spirit and experience found within these horror-core tinged street songs. Yet as dark as these stories may be on Bad For Press, the charisma and hometown pride of this record - the inseparable feeling of carrying their community on their backs to success - is what puts Van Buren Records, Brockton, and the hip hop scene from Greater Boston on the map.
Pittsburgh’s Gaadge fuse their wonky guitar tones and classic shoegaze vocals to glamorous effect on Yeah?, the type of album that may be entry level for some while being a reminder of one’s past as a scenester for others. Slacker rock, emo and lo-fi are all brought into the fold here, but with a cunning pop sensibility - like on “Do What Now?” and “Twenty-Two” - this fusion tends to be slightly more savory than other albums like it.
Newtown, CT’s Ovlov marks their return with the more-than-welcomed Buds, a tightly performed fuzz-rock record that carries the band’s trademark texture, lo-fi mixing and Steve Hartlett’s fluttering vocals. From the Duster-esque “Land of Steve-O” to the emo-adjacent “Moron pt. 2” and “Feel The Pain,” the songs on Buds continue to highlight how the fusion of these talents (representing the likes of Stove and Pet Fox) result in the members’ best output.
J-rock band mitsume’s sixth LP - the aptly titled VI - may not be their most innovative, but it's easily the most assured in their own abilities. Resting on their laurels and showcasing what’s brought them to this point, the band’s groovy melodies and luscious dreamscapes reign supreme in this gentle, breezy take on indie rock and pop.
BOOK is the rare late-career highlight that recalls the triumphs of albums past without living in the nostalgia of the years attached to them. When at its best, the highlights on BOOK - from “I Broke My Own Rule” to “I Lost Thursday” - capture the id of Lincoln and Flood, without forgetting to maintain the duo’s sense of innovation and ever-peculiar perspective that’s made them the cult heroes they are today. Other highlights include the medievally-tinged “Lord Snowdon,” the riveting “I Can’t Remember the Dream,” and the quirk-tastic “Super Cool.”
James Goodson writes songs like the Monopoly Man dressed in Chucks and Levis. Instead of looking to own all property through the forces of capital, he’s looking to turn every possible hook under the sun into the loudest blast of distortion west of the Mississippi. A collection of Dazy’s first 24 songs, MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD is the rare album/compilation that rivals a greatest hits compilation of your favorite power pop act.
For someone who hasn’t loved a KingGizz record since Flying Microtonal Banana, I’m still surprised at how much I’ve enjoyed Butterfly 3000. Sure, it’s easily one of their most “hippy-dippy good time” albums in their discography. But as wavy gravy as it may be, Butterfly 3000 is the most euphoric the band’s been in years, channeling chillwave and a Miyazaki-like fancy in ways that can’t help but bring a Cheshire smile to your face.
With his debut solo LP, Subtle’s Dax Pierson creates a challenging-yet-necessary, frank-but-non-confrontational album that pushes the boundaries of experimental and electronic music. Thematically, the record touches on the identity of a queer person of color living with disabilities, and how while at times frustrating and difficult, this experience rewards through its blessings without defining him in its struggles. Perhaps what’s most exceptional is how this record can convey all these emotions using its progressive approach to programming.
Gothenburg, Sweden’s Makthaverskan return with one of the year’s best comebacks, an album that fits neatly into their discography while taking some welcomed risks. While still putting forth their most jangly, punky dream pop, the group reaches some of their gothiest peaks since their debut, less concerned with pop appeal as they are with distortion and noise. But don’t worry, Maja Milner’s vocals are still as Bjork and Sundays-indebted as ever, catapulting these tunes into crossover indie territory.
Easthampton, MA’s Editrix brings forth a ferocious take on noise rock and post-punk that’s as flippant as it is Fripp-ian. Wendy Eisenberg commands the brigade with a searing attitude on Tell Me I’m Bad, where songs like “Torture” and “Instant” simmer with unease and rigidity. With the off-kilter drumming of Josh Daniel and clumpy bass of Steve Cameron, the rhythms of this record stick out like a musket in a graveyard.
With Vulture Prince, the Pakistani-born, Brooklyn-based songwriter who provides memories only once before known in her experience. Whether they be of her home, or the relationships she formed with others, Aftab guides the listener through a meditative, mystical world of jazz, ambient and folk that brings forth a powerful sense of place. Luxuriantly layered and sung as if they were hymns, songs like “Baghon Main” and “Mohabbat” are proof as some of the most serene music recorded this year.
With an album about evolving past the trappings of your prior self, Remember Sports reintroduce themselves with the ambitious and amber Like a Stone. Ramping up their twangiest tendencies in a blend of indie rock and pop punk, the Philly band lures in the listener with the engrossing vocals of Carmen Perry and that gosh-darn guitar tone of theirs. Songs like “Pinky Ring” and “Materialistic” stand out in the record’s crop of crafty delights, but when the songs are at their briefest - as on “Coffee Machine” and “Falling Awake'' - they tend to be the most winsome.
Much like their name suggests, A Great Big Pile of Leaves are a quintessential band for fall listening. Pono is full of the band’s trademark autumnal chords, mellow vocals and feel-good vibes, but this is more than just a casual comeback for the group. Pono excels in channeling the new phase of life the bandmates have entered into - a more mature adulthood, with kids and stuff - with that same ethos and energy of works prior.
Detroit’s very own continues on his path towards unequivocal esotericism, producing an artful and abstract hip hop record with Van Gogh’s Left Ear that unveils its pleasures in waves to the listener. It begins with the challenging and discordant beats, paving way for the inexpressible energy he possesses and the intrepid lyricism he puts forth. From the seat-clenching tension of “Ticking Time Bomb” to the haughty swagger of “Hostile,” every bar of every track serves a purpose, a work that could only be compared to a master painter’s superior strokes.
While not the unabashed masterpiece (and AOTY) that was Dark Comedy Performance Piece of my Life, Walter Etc.’s There There continues to build on Dustin Hayes' novelistic storytelling and surfy, SoCal folk punk that made me fall in love with the group. Opening with the harrowing “Wildflowers of America,” a brutal reflection of a nation’s contemporary state of affairs, the record proceeds forward as if to tread water in stress. This album addresses modern anxieties with the profound insight and nonchalant instrumentation only Walter could provide.
Continuing the legacy of Memphis greats Three 6 Mafia and Tommy Wright III, the self-proclaimed “WTF-inator” makes bass-boosted waves with his debut record. With an exemplary control of heavy flows, lyricism that lands like a swivel kick, and beats that are both crisp and refreshing, Duke Deuce proves himself as one of the best new faces in the game with Duke Nukem, an album that doesn’t sacrifice grime or grit for commerciality (despite having loads of it).
With their first full-length LP, the Parisian duo Special Friend craft twee, insouciant noise pop and slowcore that absolutely rips when it needs to. In the same textural vein as Yo La Tengo, Guillaume Siracusa’s guitars are front and center throughout the record, never boring with their timbre or distortion, and becoming rife with reverb when the mood calls for it. But it's the marriage of Siracusa and drummer Erica Ashleson’s vocals that make this such a wonderful indie rock record, from the harmonizing on the title track to the glimmering falsetto found on “Manatee.”
Part Cure worship, part comic book character, part pop star and part Stranger Things, Sleeveless is the most fun you’ll have with a new wave throwback this year. Johnny Dynamite knows how to write a tantalizing narrative, but it's his skill in balladry that compels most on this record - give “Can’t Stop My Love” a listen and you’ll understand. Backed by a band who gleam with swagger, the music of this record is lean and mean, getting straight to its thrills and never looking back.
My Life on the Silicon Prairie is the sound of an elastic band melting over an industrial-grade bug zapper. Thriving in the Midwestern weirdness of Devo and Pere Ubu as much as the warped synth-funk of Gary Wilson, the KCMO-based Silicon Prairie takes the listener back to the era of broken cassettes and analogue assaults. It’s a brittle, serrated album that’s as much of an art school product as it is a sugar-rush from Hubba Bubba. It’s the exact sound destined to make your brain feel shrill. I think you get it.
If there’s one takeaway from Anabel Lee, the self-titled debut by the Barcelona pop punks, it’s that the group is thoroughly consistent. Not in the way that’s blandly repetitive or streamlined to fade out of consciousness, but in the way that demonstrates command of pacing, tonal shift, tempo and rhythm. They’re excellent at delivering the right thrills through their own budding perspective, whether it be on “DeberÃas Estar Conmigo” or “Sobran Defectos.” As with contemporary Viva Belgrado, Spain continues to prove itself as an incubator for some of the best of modern punk.
As El Michels Affair has gradually transitioned to original material, Leon Michels has found his own original voice in the realm of cinematic soul. This isn’t music to soundtrack a vibes session, it’s an engaging fusion of Bollywood funk, Turkish modes and a “can you dig it?” mentality. With a commanding control of harmonic minor, a blizzarding use of brass, and excellent features from the Shacks to Piya Malik, Yeti Season is the group’s most fully-realized music yet, and a call to arms for any collective this side of the Budos Band to spike up the innovation.
The folk of Renée Reed will haunt you, like the ghost of a relative whose aura has never left the land they lived on. The Cajun artist evokes the similar dreamscapes of an artist like Grouper, but with a particularly Southern spirit, traditional sense of songwriting and fantastical sense of lyricism. The songs on this debut are ones that float across the mist of the prairie, ones that barrel through the fields and lose themselves to the memory of ancestors' past. But above all, Reed’s voice hypnotizes the listener, showcasing her perspective and cultural pride within every note - whether that be in French or English.
Witch Egg is another entry into the never-ending discography of John Dwyer, mastermind behind groups like Coachwhips and Oh Sees and Castle Face Records. Featuring a lineup of Nick Murray, Brad Caulkins, Tom Dolas and Greg Coates, this free improv jam session is a jambalaya cooked in a cauldron, a frenzied collection of dusty garage rock, bewildering jazz and sensational psychedelia that plays out like as a forgotten gem in the sea of late 60s experimental epics. Much like Zappa’s Hot Rats, there’s an inherent whimsy imbued in every note that makes every quirk sound appropriately ornamental.
Forget the E-40 meets “Greased Up Deaf Guy” flow. Forget the deep-cut sports knowledge and pop culture punchlines. Forget how this is the best pimp-shit on the market east of LA, and that it’s been put on by Danny Brown as part of the Bruiser Brigade. ONE BAR says all you need to know: “I’m Red Auerbach, you’re Brad Stevens.”
Black Marble’s latest concoction of minimal synth pop and coldwave returns to the thematic stylings of his earlier material, while advancing the shifts towards polished sunbeams made on his last record Bigger Than Life. While I only recently became partial to Chris Stewart’s one-man-band (thanks, Sean), with Fast Idol, his refined and often impressionistic approach to sound continues to solidify him as his own brand of visionary. Highlights of this record include “Bodies,” “Royal Walls” and “Preoccupation.”
Bejuco are a musical collective reigning from San Andrés de Tumaco, Colombia, who blend the coastal, pacific sounds of bambuco music with Afrobeat. Channeling the ancestry of Afro-Colombians native to their city and surrounding province, the musicians of Bejuco mystify with their harmonies, percussive and linguistic textures, and enchanting call-and-responses. From the hurried rush of “Campesino” to the ska-like rhythms of “Chigualo,” every song is a multicultural fusion of style, cementing this group as a collective destined to make waves in the worlds of funk and Latin music.
Never has an album in the realm of alternative R&B - at least, that I’ve come across - sounded more in tune with free jazz composition than Eau De Bonjourno. The Toronto group’s songs evolve in a way that challenges one’s sense of direction, yet they always return to a point where a groove settles in and a melody seduces (case in point: “Groove Elation”). Robin Dann’s diaphanous vocals stand out amidst the prismatic soundscapes, benefiting greatly from the crystalline production. Her lyrics read as slam poetry, or even short stories as opposed to pop songs, but somehow capture that same, dazzling appeal as your favorite radio hit.
What makes Smiling with No Teeth so compelling - beyond its boundary-less take on hip hop - is how, through lyrical motifs, the themes of racism and conquering its daily battles are presented with ease. Sure, that’s not the only theme on the record, as Owusu is just as concerned with finding a lover as they are telling one to scram. But regardless of the theme he deals with, the Ghanian-Australian rapper is a master wordsmith and songwriter, presenting his self-portrait of success through capitalistic decay and societal struggle as a complicated-yet-delightful soundtrack.
I was recommended this album on account that it sounded like my favorite album of the 2010s, Rocket Juice & The Moon. While not necessarily delivering the same thrills as that record, this album is an exercise in jazz that is nonetheless bewitching. Combining the talents of famous sidemen Pino Palladino and Blake Mills, Notes with Attachments is as percussive as it is electronically accented, unraveling its rhythmic grooves with an expert’s pacing. Many of the songs feel evanescent in their environment, but they capture a sense of authority with an unexpected flourish that reshapes the momentum.
It takes a LOT to get me to like, let alone listen to, a modern post-punk band of the “British revival” variety. But Amyl and the Sniffers are, for one, Australian, and two, more full of life and with something to say than a band like IDLES could ever dream of. Pummeling with its pulse, entrancing with its twang, and laying down the funk on a nasty dunk, Comfort To Me is straight up MEAN. It’s a bitter buzzsaw of a punk record that spits in the eyes of any weakling who dares step to their frontwoman.
One of Origami Angel’s many appeals is how closely knit their music is to youth: in energy, in spirit, in sense of longing. On GAMI GANG, they further this appeal thematically, while also expanding their Tony Hawk Pro Skater-emo with a polychromatic palette of genre-hops. They remind the listener to cherish life - while not taking it so seriously - through metal breakdowns, trap flairs, video game melodies, you name it. As endearing as it is ineffable, GAMI GANG continues to prove why Origami Angel are one of DIY’s most dynamic duos.
Cosmically constructed but organic with its texture, Chad VanGaalen’s latest album channels sprite-like psychedelia in a way that feels like a plant feeding through photosynthesis. With the aura of a mythical forest, the record’s atmosphere sticks to the listener from the beginning on their superbly sequenced and fanciful journey of indie folk. The Calgary singer/songwriter has always been a secret weapon for some of indie rock’s best acts, but with World’s Most Stressed Out Gardener, the musician now has a record that both stands as a high watermark in his solo discography, and an album that works as an excellent entry-point into his career at large.
The Shadow I Remember is Dylan Baldi’s most mature release yet as the mastermind of Cloud Nothings. Not only because of his voice’s timbre - which has aged more like barrel-smoked whiskey than fine wine - but because of the growth displayed in his lyricism. The record is learned and forgiving in its sentiments, polishing some of the grit from an album like Attack on Memory in favor of impassioned power pop. It ultimately makes songs like “Nothing Without You” or “Am I Something” all the more touching to bear witness to.
Mercurial World is a quintessential Internet-age album. This is music connected by hyperlink, channeling era, sound and style at the blink of an eye or the twitch of a muscle. The LA-based duo of Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin are the hardest working tandem online, mixing their fully-realized visual aesthetic with an ever-expanding musical mind, never satisfied with one particular sound or style. It may be schizophrenic for some, but for myself and many alike, it’s an ideal vision for modern pop.
At 28 tracks and 50 minutes in length, Dilettante is Mo Troper’s most ambitious - and inspired - project yet. Detaching himself from some of the self-seriousness of projects passed, Troper finds humor and wit in the most trivial of bullshit, as well as the most joy in the things we often overlook. There’s a wide spreading musical range on this album, while hearkening back to his Beloved-era in the brittleness of the production. Despite its lack of personalized narratives a la Natural Beauty, this record feels the most authentic to Troper as a person, an album where he can be as intimate as ever on “Sugar and Cream” while still having the gall to name a track “Cum on my Khakis.”
The second album from the Copenhagen-based soul singer, Sensational is exactly as its title suggests. Here, de Casier draws particular inspiration from the R&B and pop of the late-90s and early 2000s, re-envisioning these sounds in a modern context that’s oh so sultry. The album concerns itself with the woes of poor partnerships, learning from those experiences and prioritizing self-worth in the end. Much like a Lianne La Havas or RosalÃa, de Casier doesn’t forget to let her voice and songwriting stand supreme, making this - in my humble estimation - the most accomplished R&B record of the year.
I don’t really work out, but listening to ULTRAPOP is basically the audio equivalent. Hopped up on creatine and ready to rampage, The Armed come through with a digitally-drenched hardcore record that throttles the listener in breakdowns and blast-beats as often as it gets glitzy. It’s certainly a record for the strong of heart, as every listen wraps you up in a barb-wire blanket; at times, the distortion can be over-disorienting, a true behemoth of mixing and mastering. But when the record’s charms wash over you, you can’t help it in wanting to break shit with your fists.
ENTERTAINMENT, DEATH is music written in Wingdings, in the pages of a film class reflection journal stained with darjeeling tea. It’s hard to decipher exactly what it is that’s entering your eardrums throughout the runtime of this record - not in terms of sonic quality, but in terms of what you can comprehend logically. That’s exactly why Zack Schwartz, Rivka Ravede and Corey Wichlin work in glorious harmony with one another: they’re gifted magicians, working behind the curtain to keep us engaged through whatever trick they’re onto now. Now, oversimplifications are often bad, but look at ENTERTAINMENT, DEATH this way: it’s Animal Collective for the “fifth wave.”
The psychedelia of Vanishing Twin is enigmatic, existing out of time and space while provoking a nostalgia in the listener that they might not have experienced themselves. The London-based group humorously labels their genre as “library music,” but it wouldn’t be remiss to call their sound studied, or in fact volumetric with how knowledgeable it is in soundcraft. There are touches from Syd Barrett and Stereolab to Alice Coltrane and Sun Ra, finding harmony between the free spirit and the lost soul.
If anything, this record invites you into a lounge of wonder unlike any record this year. You are the participant on a voyage detached from human construct, taken to a place within that is as in tune with the mind and spirit as the unknown and surreal. Quite frankly, to hear psychedelia of this nature in 2021 be this compelling is a testament in its own right. But beyond its kookiest, phantasmic impulses, Ookii Gekkou is a record of mystery, of intrigue, of desire to return to listen after listen, in search of all its secret treasures.
Toner have once again come through with an exceptionally blissful rock record, one where garage, shoegaze, punk, slacker rock and glam coalesce into a smoke cloud of sensation. Samuelito Cruz composes on hell of a record with White Buffalo Roam, taking past eras of guitar rock and giving them the touch only someone from the East Bay could. Throughout the album, his vocals are intertwined with those of Ellie James, providing a back and forth to the music that feels as though she’s a newfound muse.
When his album succeeds most is when Toner does what they always have, but with a little extra spice. These are moments like the back end of “Ox ‘45,” or on songs like “Tar” and “Bleeder.” When the songs are at their most dynamic, they are also at their most dreamy. It’s a wonderful balance that continues to craft a signature sound in the realm of whatever “guitar music” is considered nowadays.
Birthday Ass’s Head of the Household is perhaps the most anomalistic record I came across this year; or, maybe more accurately, the record I least expected to fall in love with. A fusion of free jazz, no wave and pointed lyrical absurdism, the Brooklyn band makes music that feels like an inside joke at an art gallery. How could music that requires this much dedication to make be so gosh-darn flabbergasting with its lyrics and vocals? Yet that’s exactly the genius of Priya Carlberg, who knows just how to balance the satirical with a lack of self-seriousness.
It’s right there in the song titles - “Blah,” “Broccoli Face,” freakin’ “Plubbage Bubbage.” Don’t overthink it. As much as this record is a refreshing approach to the genres it occupies, it doesn’t necessarily innovate them. Instead, it casually asks the listener to take the experience for what it is: a stream-of-conscious menu-reading through a 50s jazz and billiards club. If that’s out of your element, I still implore you to give it a shot. By the fifth listen through, the earworm melodies and hysterical inflections make this record worth every second of your attention.
J. Thatcher May’s prolific discography as Sports Coach always finds a way to affirm life as something both beautiful and whimsical. No other synth-based artist I listen to captures the innocence of childhood nostalgia through their playing like May, whose melodies sound like a sparkle of fireflies carrying you through the evening summer air. His deadpan voice makes the music feel out of this universe, especially when hidden in the lo-fi mixing and hazy production. But they’re anything but detached; if anything, they help the listener see the world in a more optimistic light.
Limitations is Sports Coach’s most holistic statement, the most serene collection of songwriting, soundcraft and sequencing he’s produced yet. Maintaining their brevity without sacrificing complexity, the vignettes here are the most realized of his career, building off of the progress of Sports Spirits with expertise. The sense of playfulness May has is still on full display, as songs will transition on a whim into outros, or fade into liminal passages unexpectedly. I’ve found Limitations to be somewhat of a tongue-in-cheek title; surely, being powered by a generator out of a van you travel up and down the California coast is a limiting way of producing music. But this record is anything but limited in its scope, or in the heartwarming effects it can provide to the listener.
There’s a certain magnetism to Death of a Cheerleader. With its lush intro, it seems to promise a circular listening experience, a concept throughout. But it would be inaccurate to call the debut from Pom Pom Squad, a band masterminded by Mia Berrin, a full-fledged cyclical experience. Rather, the record’s diaristic voice draws you into an impassioned, personal experience, where a multidimensional voice breaks through to you in thought-provoking ways. All the while, the emo, grunge and riot grrl fused in the music makes this rock record one riot of a time.
Berrin’s vocal melodies are full of melodrama, making the snarky bitterness and unapologetic confidence of her lyrics all the more impactful. This is especially true on “Head Cheerleader,” one of the year’s best songs, and “Crying,” a grungy romp that feels near-theatrical in its performance. But its when she reaches her most confessional strides where the album truly peaks, capturing queer love and an understanding of self unlike most records of its ilk. The cheerleader may be dead, but Mia Berrin proves her own identity is what makes Pom Pom Squad feel so alive.
Have you ever seen the brewer metal meme, where three dudes are talking about Mastodon, Baroness and High on Fire? Now replace those bearded, flannel-wearing dudes with a visualization of every beanie-wearing hardcore bro you know. On top of metal, have them talk about bands. Like, literally any band. “Bro, Fugazi. Dude I know, Bad Brains. For real man, Minor Threat. Oh but what about Torche? Yeah man I love a little new wave too, The Police dude? Do you listen to Helmet? Oh bro I freakin’ LOVE the Gorilla Biscuits! Do you guys know Citizen or La Dispute? Oh my guy, I get HEAVY into DC funk and go-go, I can boogie.” Once they're done with that conversation, everyone starts beating the shit out of each other.
That is EXACTLY what this album is like, and yeah, it fuckin’ rocks.
If this list were to commemorate the Victory Lap of the Year, Michelle Zauner would be your champion by about 50 legs. As the mastermind behind Japanese Breakfast, she was everywhere this year, from the New York Times’ bestseller list with her memoir to having her songs featured as bumps for Sunday Night Football. Usually in the “indie world,” this brings skepticism towards the art itself, but c’mon, Jubilee deserves all its hype through how Zauner has reached her (thus-far) career zenith.
From the opening notes of “Paprika,” a song that affirms her place as someone destined to bring joy to the masses, to the cavernous closer “Posing for Cars” that leaves love rattling in the heart, Jubilee carries a spark of pure feeling that never relents. You’ll feel it most in singles “Be Sweet” or “Savage Good Boy,” in highlights “Slide Tackle” or “Posing In Bondage,” and especially in the crown jewel of the collection “In Hell,” which may be the most precious ode to her mother she’s written. As it continues to grow with age, Jubilee will be seen as a peak for Zauner, one where her visions of grandeur were fulfilled beyond what anyone could have hoped for.
Much like “Beetlejuice” or “Bloody Mary,” the words “New Jersey” put the fear of God in people. Yet I find it hard to describe the second LP from the Garden State’s vampyric loverboys as anything but. Every song on Peace Out Cruel World is a statement made with unabashed confidence, a truly one-of-a-kind album in a DIY music scene known for sloppy-seconds emo and cookie-cutter pop punk. There's no doubt this album is shooting for the stars, but it's how it proves it’s meant to be there that is what makes it so great.
Cameron J. Castan’s vocals throughout this record made him my favorite frontman of the year. From his bellowing on “Sleeping Pills” to his crooning on “Dog,” his voice impresses in a way that, until this point, only Brandon Flowers could’ve. Sure, his lyrics are cocksure and delivered at most times with a shit-eating grin, but c’mon, that’s exactly what this album thrives in. And the music - beachy post-punk and gothic new wave mixed with 2010s alt-pop - is nothing but the ideal match for him to deliver such sentiments. If you’re looking for fun, for trouble, for near-perfection - step onto the boardwalk with these bad boys and do it all for the good times, baby.
Read Zach’s Review on The Alternative
I felt like I was drowning for most of this year. I was existing in a malaise that I couldn’t escape. It was the most directionless I had felt throughout my entire life. Thankfully, I had Hoorsees’s debut album by my side during those trying months to help comfort me in my survival.
This album follows in the most classic of indie rock lineages, one that allows reverb and melancholia to blanket the listener in a way that ironically provides a euphoric sense of comfort. Alexin Huysman's dejection is on full display in his blunt-yet-poetic lyrics, whether it be in self-vitriol or his admittance to giving up. These words only linger longer in your head due to his vocal drawl, which implants these melodies into your head for days on end.
The Parisian’s band debut is one of those rock records that dazzles with its assuredness and promise. The band knows exactly who they are with this debut, but entices further with how their knowledge of life experience and captivating lyricism elevates them above their peers. I can only hope they continue to break beyond their native France into the US, where their sound is more than welcome - it’s necessary.
There’s something inarticulable about the experience I have with Alien Boy’s Don’t Know What I Am. For someone who has chosen to write about music as one of their life’s passions, that’s kinda sorta the exact thing you don’t want to happen to you when recommending your favorite album of the year. But allow me to try my best, by being a direct as possible: this album makes me proud to be queer.
Don’t Know What I Am affirms the experience of life more so than any record this year. It recognizes the struggles we face - in our quest for true love, in our battles against “thinky pain,” in knowing our identity - and extends open, welcoming arms through universal, mesmerizing guitar pop. The soul in its heart is lost, constantly searching for connection through the love of others. When it is found, it brings joy beyond measure. When it is lost, a burning desire to return to glory is found.
Sonia Weber proves herself as one of her generation of indie rock’s greatest talents. Something feels truly effortless about her skill in taking complicated sentiments of subjective experience and turning them into anthems for all. But there is nothing but effort put into every iota of space this album occupies, right down to the mixing, mastering and engineering that elevates the sound and texture of this LP to cacophonous heights.
Maybe it's because the blistering emo-gaze this record thrives in holds the highest preference in my listening habits. Maybe it’s because I tie some of my pride in my queer identity to having found mysef in a DIY community where I could be authentic and accepted. Maybe, just maybe, it's because I “still haven’t found what I’m looking for,” and that on my journey through life I’ll always have people around me to thank for helping guide me through.
But above all, I think it’s because listening to this record makes me realize I’m not alone, and that I am doing alright, that makes me proud to be queer. Who knows? Maybe this record, Alien Boy, or just the fact that such an exceptional record can be made by people like you, for you, will make you feel this way too.
OSMOSIS TONES TOP 50 ALBUMS OF 2021
Don't Know What I Am - Alien Boy
Hoorsees - Hoorsees
Peace Out Cruel World - Whiner
Jubilee - Japanese Breakfast
GLOW ON - Turnstile
Death of a Cheerleader - Pom Pom Squad
Limitations - Sports Coach
Head of the Household - Birthday Ass
White Buffalo Roam - Toner
Ookii Gekkou - Vanishing Twin
ENTERTAINMENT, DEATH - The Spirit of the Beehive
ULTRAPOP - The Armed
Sensational - Erika de Casier
Dilettante - Mo Troper
Mercurial World - Magdalena Bay
The Shadow I Remember - Cloud Nothings
World’s Most Stressed Out Gardener - Chad VanGaalen
GAMI GANG - Origami Angel
Comfort To Me - Amyl and the Sniffers
Notes With Attachments - Pino Palladino and Blake Mills
Smiling With No Teeth - Genesis Owusu
Eau De Bonjourno - Bernice
Batea - Bejuco
Fast Idol - Black Marble
Dope Game Stupid - Bruiser Wolf
Witch Egg - John Dwyer
Renée Reed - Renée Reed
Yeti Season - El Michels Affair
Anabel Lee - Anabel Lee
My Life on the Silicon Prairie - Silicon Prairie
Sleeveless - Johnny Dynamite and the Bloodsuckers
Ennemi Commun - Special Friend
Duke Nukem - Duke Deuce
There There - Walter Etc.
Van Gogh's Left Ear - ZeeloperZ
Pono - A Great Big Pile of Leaves
Like a Stone - Remember Sports
Vulture Prince - Arooj Aftab
Tell Me I’m Bad - Editrix
For Allting - Makthaverskan
Nerve Bumps (A Queer Divine Dissatisfaction) - Dax Pierson
Butterfly 3000 - King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard
MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD - Dazy
BOOK - They Might Be Giants
VI - Mitsume
Buds - Ovlov
Yeah? - Gaadge
Bad For Press - Van Buren Records
Guide Me Holy Ararat - Sevan
Sympathy for Life - Parquet Courts
HONORABLE MENTIONS of 2021 -
Male Tears - Male Tears
Surrounded - Motorists
Voyager - Current Joys
Garden of Burning Apparitions - Full of Hell
Twin Shadow - Twin Shadow
By The Time I Get To Phoenix - Injury Reserve
Spirit Level - Randolph's Leap
BOYANONYMOUS - Paris Texas
Somewhere - Sun June
Scatterbrain - The Chills
OVERRATED LPs of 2021 -
I Don't Live Here Anymore - The War on Drugs
Cavalcade - black midi
Valentine - Snail Mail
New Long Leg - Dry Cleaning
Call Me If You Get Lost - Tyler, The Creator
DISAPPOINTING LPs of 2021 -
Daddy's Home - St. Vincent
Star-Crossed - Kacey Musgraves
Solar Power - Lorde
An Evening With Silk Sonic - Silk Sonic
Hushed and Grim - Mastodon
THE WORST ALBUM OF 2021
aka "The Womp Womp"
Hail Satin - Dee Gees
Glorious failure is still failure!
