My Favorite Albums of 2023

The first thing you’re likely to notice is the provocative title; my first thought was “what kind of a name is Western Cum?”. But after sitting with it for a while, it may be the perfect title for a throwback rock-n-roll record filled with dueling twin-guitars leading a simple 4-piece instrumentation. Think of it like Stephen Malkmus via ZZ Top, a sort of 70s-era swaggering rock paired with sensitive vocals and enigmatic lyrics. But the guitar is clearly the star of the show; Cory and his brother Casey show serious chops with intricate harmonies and consistently gritty tone.

Atin Gün‘s first record was a deeply enjoyable foray into Turkish psychedelia, and they have returned for their third effort in top form. Aşk plumbs the same musical history, but presents as a more muscular, confident, live-show inflected take on classic Turkish tunes.

Bless this Mess is a funky, danceable meditation on modern motherhood. Is a lyric like “You were born to wreck my body, baby” in Tux a come-on, or commentary on childbirth? On top of the underrepresented lyrical themes, there is a cover of perennial favorite Badge Époque Ensemble tune; it turns out that the two bandleaders are married.

Over 10 years on from the first record of theirs that I fell in love with, II, Unknown Mortal Orchestra continues to create incredible, spacious, touching, psychedelic songs. V is no exception; it’s masterfully crafted and sung, and really shows that after all this time, they’ve still got it. The songwriting touches on his experiences growing up with his musician parents touring around the Pacific—he was born in Australia to a Māori father and Hawaiian mother, and the album was partly recorded in Hawaii—and the inherent contradictions in the pleasure and disturbing tourism of island life.

A. Savage, the frontman of Parquet Courts, sounds like Bill Callahan’s brother in baritone acoustic guitar driven song storytelling on this solo record; he even touches on similar subject matter in Elvis in the Army as Callahan does on Apocalypse. But overall, Savage tackles his decision to decamp from New York to Europe in this meditation on growth and change.

Oddissee is a veteran underground rapper that I only started listening to this year; To What End is his 10th solo album. Coming from Brooklyn via Washington, DC, he delivers a tight record of autobiographical raps over funk and live-band inflected backing tracks. It’s an upbeat and sometimes-boisterous good time of a record, bringing to mind Anderson .Paak or Kendrick Lamar.

Compared with her previous records as Mega Bog, Erin Birgy is here exploring a more desolate, harsh environment densely populated with new-wave synths and stark descriptions of modern life. The through-line in her work remains, though; she almost always comes across as a traveler from another land observing us, almost as in a sci-fi epic.

Izzy Hagerup, our of Northampton, MA, makes lo-fi garage rock with a vocal delivery somewhere between Big Thief and Coco Rosie. It’s emotional, ragged, and her lyrics are full of vivid and sometimes disturbing imagery. She makes the most of a limited palette of scrappy guitar rock with the occasional drum machine; the frayed sound and emotive lyrics work together to beautiful, if sometimes concerning effect.

The Ensemble has always occupied a space somewhere between jazz and prog rock, but here they take a different tack. In their first all-instrumental record, they take inspiration from their own back catalog to create a sample-based, vibe-y and relaxing set of songs.

Braids is a Canadian electronic trio, backed by a string ensemble on this jewel box of a record. Here, they deliver wandering journeys of songs with wispy, sometimes-operatic female vocals that occasionally slide into a delightfully Björk-like delivery.

Cousin marks a return to my favorite era of Wilco; the beautiful combination of evocative songwriting and experimental soundscapes. It’s something about the tension of the electronics and Tweedy’s quiet, almost spoken lyrics that bring me back to the halcyon days of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Not to say that this is a pastiche of their earlier work, but it puts me in the right mindset among their now vast catalog.

Bird Hour is a small record of bedroom pop created by Swedish twin sisters. Their songs are simple constructions of vocals, guitar, and synthesizer, and pair sweet vocals with dark instrumentals, landing somewhere in the world of Claire Cronin’s horror-folk.