My Favorite Albums of 2024

Initially, I didn’t realize that Lætitia Sadier is one of the co-founders of Stereolab, but it makes sense; the jazzy avant-pop and electro influences trace a clear path between that band and her solo work. On Rooting for Love, she creates slick and pared down lounge-y soundscapes that belie the complex rhythms below. Sung partly in English and partly in French, some of the songs give me the same feeling as the more orchestral side of Circuit des Yeux; they are dramatic, engaging, and maintain a fascinating balance of difficulty and accessibility.

Essentially a breakup album, Leave Another Day traces a relationship’s end, until the gravitational pull of the ex brings them back in the last song. It’s an apt metaphor for the album’s sound, which has a similar pull back to sounds of a previous era, from The Cure to Cocteau Twins (or, for a more recent reference point you could imagine a stretched-out and slowed-down WhoMadeWho).

For years, I accidentally put DIIV in the same bucket as Spoon or School of Seven Bells: overly radio-friendly and a bit shallow. Instead, they bring solid indie rock built on top of a layer of psych rock (one member played in the 60s pastiche stalwarts Smith Westerns). Here, they sound reminiscent of my top pick from 2022, Goon, in their expansive and spacious guitar-driven rock.

After topping my list last year, Cory Hanson is back with his original band, delivering Radiohead-esque psych-rock excursions. The songs here are slow, spacious, and meditative, with exploratory guitars and synths on top of a solid foundation in the rhythm section. A through line in Wand and Cory Hanson’s solo work seems to be the expansive, cosmic west; the album is bathed in a wide focus soundscapes.

Film Noir is a mostly-instrumental collection of spaced-out psychedelia that ranges from hard-driving shoegaze to lounge-y, slow paced tracks that sound like early Air. It’s all super pretty, and when the occasional harmonized vocals pop in, it’s straight-up joyous. The main driver of the group, Adam Franklin, has been making music for decades, and this iteration is less band than recording collective; it has grown to even include J. Mascis, who pops in to add a bit of shred and add a jolt to the shoegaze.

Bullion makes pared back, restrained electro-pop with a small palette of bouncy bass synths, 4-on-the-floor drums, and gentle leads. Over the top, Nathan Jenkins adds sparse and pretty vocals, sometimes pulling some heavy-hitting collaborators for whom he’s produced music, like Carly Rae Jepsen (in the sample below) and Panda Bear. It’s charming in its ease, and such an enjoyable listen.

Imaginal Disk is a wild concept album about relearning how to be a human after an alien inserts the titular disk into the protagonist’s forehead. If nothing else, this explains the album art! But the result is super funky proto-disco that is groovy and extremely danceable. The lead singer’s voice and concept-driven synth-pop are reminiscent of last year’s pick U.S. Girls.

Coming off of his wildly entertaining feud with Drake, Kendrick released a new record late in the year with almost no notice. While 2022’s Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers was engaging, the concept sometimes felt like it took precedence over the music, and that (combined with its long runtime) made listening feel like a chore. GNX is tight (about 30 minutes shorter), and way more fun. Is the Kendrick self-mythology a little tired? Maybe. But are the beats fun? Absolutely. And is the rapping technicality there? Without a doubt. Maybe that’s all we need.

For a band with nothing left to prove, it is so satisfying to hear The Cure back with a new set of songs 16 years after their last album. And they are clearly making what they want and working at their own, glacial pace — witness the nearly three-and-a-half minutes of music on the first track before Robert Smith starts singing. It’s a gorgeous combination of two of my top Cure eras: Disintegration and Bloodflowers.

Diamond Jubilee is a wild, 2-hour long double album originally released for free only on GeoCities with no promotion. It’s a tenderly sung opus, with an overdriven, 60s-inspired palette — multitracked vocals, rubber-band bass, drenched in plate reverb — that puts me in mind of the Elephant 6 recording collective. Within that set of sounds it bounces around genres from straightforward pop, strange western soundtracks, oddball jazz-pop, and even tropicalia.

King Hannah’s debut was a sarcasm-drenched set of barbs thrown at exes. Their followup has a similar darkness to it, but is more driven and a little less lugubrious; instead of being built on a base of slow-drip guitars and sparse drums there’s a stronger sense of purpose, propelled by a driving rhythm section.

The lore of Notes from a Quiet Life figures into the experience almost as much as the music; in the four years since his last record, Ernest Greene bought a farm in Georgia and transformed it into a retreat for his family and his music. That backstory comes through in the music with simple and clear songs that maintain his trademark chillwave tone.

Grandaddy makes slow paced, spacious singer-songwriter work, and this album takes that concept and adorns it with layers of pedal steel guitar and light synthesizer pads. It’s basically Americana — just folk music — but stretched out and sent a bit into outer space.

Reverb-drenched smut-peddling stalwarts Cigarettes After Sex are back with another album that sounds just like their others! But the gag is good enough that it’s a welcome return. If you like it, you’re sure to like this.