My Favorite Albums of 2021

Topaz Jones’s music is like a fusion of André 3000’s oddball, guitar-driven production and the personal storytelling style of Kendrick Lamar. While he deals with his family dynamics and other heavy topics, he doesn’t take himself too seriously — the funk-inflected music is infectiously fun, and lots of his one-off lines are straight up funny. And interspersed recordings of his extended family talking about their history give the record both cohesion and a real sense of place.

Life, and Another is a strange and beguiling record, as singer Erin Birgy sings, whispers, and sometimes just squeaks, possibly from the perspective of an alien visiting earth. But setting that aside, in practice it’s way less experimental; the music boils down to insanely catchy jazz-adjacent pop, and makes for really fun listening.

Ramona Gonzalez has been on the electronic scene for a while, but No Sun is a departure from her past work of chillwave and R&B. Written after a divorce and during her studies for a PhD in musicology, it’s an album based in her research of the tradition of women’s musical lament, written mostly for voice and synthesizer. The academic approach to songwriting gives the record backbone, but it is not at all stolid; it is quiet, expressive, and intriguing.

Pale Horse Rider is a gentle take on some sort of psychedelic country music, like having a vision alone in a desert. The songs are quiet, contemplative, and propulsive by turn; the beautiful arrangements build tension and emotion almost like Pink Floyd. And floating on top of it all, Cory Hanson’s light, quivering voice makes delightful scenes out of the everyday.

Promises is a suite for orchestra, saxophone, and electronics that ebbs and flows its way through its nearly-seamless 9 movements. Almost entirely based around a 7-note motif, Pharoah Sanders’s saxophone (and later, his voice), adds gorgeous, varying textures. It’s a simple but emotionally affecting piece. Electronic elements from Floating Points emerge, becoming more and more present, until they recede into an orchestral coda.

In the past, Haley Fohr operated in two modes: the experimentalism of Circuit des Yeux, which only sometimes coalesced into traditional pop songs; and the alter-ego Jackie Lynn, a dance-inflected electropop foray into late night drives and casinos. -io brings these two facets of her musical personality together, with a chamber orchestra serving as the connective tissue. It’s a striking departure, and results in some of her most affecting work.

Penelope Trappes writes vocal-driven, dark, enveloping soundscapes that are reminiscent of FKA Twigs, but with a more cinematic scope. The final part in a trilogy, the songs on Three deal with motherhood, anxiety, and healing.

Made famous by a collaboration with Ghostface Killah and their jazz steeped in the verbiage of hip-hop rhythms, this record finds them back to their roots with a more traditional set of jazz tunes. But the introduction of electric guitar and strings on some tracks add a lush, calm sense to even the more uptempo cuts.

Big guitars, big drums, and deep, double-tracked vocals all give this rock EP a sheen of embodied, effortless cool. Margaret Sohn sings about her feeling of impostor syndrome: the idea that she doubts her own skills and is just posing as a musician. But as the record shows — especially since it was entirely written and produced by herself — that she is entirely the real deal.

Cherry is almost a straightforward pop record — it has a clean sound, great hooks, and a little funk — but it has enough unique production choices to keep it full of surprises. Fuzzed-out bass guitars, simple, driving rhythms, and sharp harmonies sometimes recall Ava Luna’s Moon 2.

A Dutch bassist who was fond of traditional Turkish music posted on Craiglist looking for people with similar interests, and two Turkish ex-pats responded. Altin Gün was born, and since then they have graced us with psychedelic, funky takes on Turkish classics.

Percussion and production heavy, Spiral is full of great beats and abstract clicks, clacks, and electronic whirls, all paired with a filtered groan of vocals. All of this together makes for a darker version of Alt-J, and an engrossing, vibey listen.

Deerhoof’s reunion, after a long Covid quarantine, brings us a more optimistic and loose band. In Actually, You Can, they take on the good sides of the world with a sound honed over 18 albums. And to go with this outlook, they use a sound they called “DIY Baroque”: an everyday person’s classical music.

Everything features reverb-drenched female vocals sung — nearly mumbled — over a warped country soundtrack. The first half was written during a tumultuous relationship, and the second after that partner’s death, so its smoothed edges and understated demeanor belie an emotional depth running beneath.

Claire Cronin’s last record was a set of spooky songs about strange beasts and creatures of the night, but on Bloodless she takes her low-end-heavy, tremolo’d guitars and her wavering voice to a more positive place. Though the atmosphere is still veiled with a dark fog, she sings about consciousness, dreams, and being present in difficult times.

After a handful of scattershot albums, sketchy. finds Merrill Garbus returned to prime form: propulsive, uptempo beats and catchy hooks, all fronted by her unstoppable voice.