My Favorite Albums of 2024

I suspect it's probably safe to say that albums are no longer the default listening experience for most people, but given that I co-host a podcast called the Record Player, it shouldn't surprise you that I am still very much an Album Guy. As much time as I tend to spend exploring single tracks by artists who are new to me, a good old-fashioned full-length LP will always be my preferred vehicle for spending time with musicians.

After spending at least 15 years whining about the increasing degree of difficulty I face when it comes to giving new records as much time and attention as I used to, I did a little something about it in 2024 — namely, keeping a spreadsheet of all the albums I heard for the first time, along with ratings and listening notes. After 365 days, I ended up with more than 125 items on that list — and 25 favorites among them, which I will recommend (maybe even re-recommend) to you now. Without further ado, and presented roughly in order of release:

Foreverland, Keyon Harrold
This is one beautiful record — the cover artwork depicts Harrold floating in a pink cloud, and, well, that's basically how listening to these songs feels. If you pointed a gun at me and forced me to try and squeeze it into some kind of genre-based description, I guess I'd say it's ethereal jazz with a hip-hop bent, but really, there are worlds within these songs, and they deserve to be approached without those expectations. Sometimes the focus is on guest vocalists (Laura Mvula, Common, P.J. Morton); sometimes the focus is on Harrold's trumpet. Always, without fail, the results are beautiful. This is music that does not touch the ground, and it lifts you up with it.

The Great Fire of Beatenberg, Beatenberg
Listening to these guys feels like stepping into a world where late-period Talking Heads and Paul Simon's Graceland were formative musical touchstones for everyone in the world rather than simply the guys in Vampire Weekend. It doesn't really do anything new with its obvious influences, but it's decidedly easy listening, which I mean in the kindest way.

Mantras, Katie Pruitt
A singer-songwriter tunefully laying herself bare. Love Katie's voice, the songs are solid, and the production is smart.

Country, Medium Build
Tasteful pop-rock with a heavily confessional bent. I don't know the details of Carpenter's personal history, but from song to song, it really sounds like he's tapping veins to bring his music to life; every track is scattered with the sorts of seemingly minor details that make you feel like you're listening to someone sing pages from their diary in an earnest, possibly last-ditch attempt to make sense of the world and their place in it.

I Wish You Way More Than Luck, Lo Moon
When I listen to I Wish You Way More Than Luck, I hear bits of So-era Peter Gabriel's Fairlight soul. I catch glimmers of the haunted grandeur of the Call's Reconciled and Into the Woods albums. Sometimes I feel like I might be listening to an alternate version of the 1975, only with a less manic frontman. It all blends together to create a sound that reminds me of sounds that make me happy for various reasons, which is probably the point.

Adobe Home, Jeff Larson
I've said this countless times before, and here I go again: Paying homage to a bygone era without coming across as a slavish imitation is a lot harder than it looks. With Adobe Home, Jeff Larson pulls it off, delivering a set of songs that are heavily indebted to the mellow gold era, yet manage to consistently stay on the right side of the line between tribute and pastiche.

Don't Stop Playing Guitar, Colman Gota
This is a really rich and colorful record, one that's invigoratingly uptempo on balance but blessed with varied and consistently interesting arrangements across the board. Gota's adenoidal vocals aren't what you'd necessarily think of when dreaming up ideal vehicles for rock anthems, but that only adds to the essential vulnerability that makes the album such a joy to listen to.

The Avett Brothers, the Avett Brothers
The Avett Brothers strips away the varnish applied to more recent records and focuses on the band's essential strengths — specifically, stringin' and singin' through songs that may not actually be deeply confessional, but almost always feel like they are. And once you take a minute to really lean in and listen, it becomes clear that the Avetts have lost none of their ability to periodically peel off a lyrical line that will take your breath away with its simple clarity and emotional power.

Find Your Way, Tim Easton
Semi-standard folk-rock singer-songwriter stuff in many respects, but it's also written with an occasionally striking degree of emotional earnestness and insight — a great example is "Everything You're Afraid Of," which was my official song of the year.

Flying Away, Jon Muq
Really delightful singer-songwriter fare that's given a bit of a sonic twist by virtue of the way it's richly informed by Muq's journey from Africa to the United States.

Passage du Desir, Johnny Blue Skies
Smooth, soulful stuff. My favorite Sturgill Simpson record in years. I suppose this is somewhat ironic, given that Simpson is so eager to escape his own past that he released Passage du Desir under a pseudonym, but you can't argue with results.

Moth, Fana Hues
This is some extremely silky soul — very modern, but with a lot of human warmth, and really well-written songs.

Vertigo, Griff
Nakedly emotional neo-soul; tightly written, creatively produced, powerfully performed.

Indoor Safari, Nick Lowe
There really isn't any arguing against the string of albums Lowe has released over the last 30 years, which together form a brilliant case study in how piss-and-vinegar rockers can age gracefully without abandoning the core qualities that made them worth listening to in the first place. That said, I have spent the last 30 years wishing Nick would get back to rocking a little more, and Indoor Safari is a tasteful (and, it must be said, still rather mellow) answer to those prayers.

Baltic Street Hotel, Sophie Gault
This is a consistently excellent collection of roots rock/alt-country tunes that hangs like a pair of comfortable jeans on the line between Lone Justice and Lucinda Williams. Bonus points for some unsurprisingly stellar production work from Ray Kennedy; it's been way too long since I spotted his name in a set of liner notes.

Moon Mirror, Nada Surf
The band's tenth album and first for New West after a long stint at Barsuk, Moon Mirror is a deftly assembled delivery mechanism for hooks and harmonies, expertly dispensed in equal measure; in other words, this is a great record for anyone who misses Fountains of Wayne. Perfect pop songs, powerfully performed.

Eastern Montana, George Winston
George Winston died in 2023, which makes Eastern Montana the most surprising album of his career — not because it does anything a Winston fan wouldn't expect it to, but because as a dead person, he isn't necessarily expected to release new music. I don't know if Eastern Montana signals a future in which Winston becomes the 2Pac of the instrumental music world, but what I do know is that this is a resolutely lovely set; if you're in the mood to be soothed, just sit back and let it do its thing.

True, Jon Anderson
We all know by now that good things can (and often do) happen when veteran musicians end up performing with their own tribute acts. It still feels a little weird to see it happen — for me, anyway — but what may come across as a desperate act of self-affirmation can actually end up being a creative shot in the arm, and that's absolutely the case with Jon Anderson's True. Given that his backing band knows the music of Yes inside and out, it's no surprise that this sounds like it could be a lost Yes album; what's perhaps surprising is that it's a really good Yes album, albeit more in the vein of the stuff he was doing with the band toward the end of his tenure. Take the best songs from True, slap 'em together with the best songs from Trevor Rabin's most recent solo LP, and you've got yourself the sequel to Talk that never happened.

Acadia, Yasmin Williams
Yasmin Williams records guitar instrumentals, but she isn't Joe Satriani. Instead, Acadia serves as the latest chapter in a young career that's already chock full of songs that glow with serene, gentle beauty. This is the type of record that doesn't go out of its way to demand your attention, and as a result, you might be tempted to say it doesn't have a lot going on — but if you lean in and let these songs work their magic, you won't be disappointed. Not a single note that shouldn't be exactly where it is.

CHROMAKOPIA, Tyler, the Creator
Here's the bottom line in terms of what I can tell you about this album: It takes me on a sonic journey, which is what I want from any LP, and it also contains an array of statements that I find witty, moving, and/or trenchant, in no particular order of importance. CHROMAKOPIA ranks among the smartest, deepest, most consistently entertaining records I had the pleasure of listening to all year.

Quiet in a World Full of Noise, Dawn Richard and Spencer Zahn
To be perfectly honest, Quiet in a World Full of Noise bored me at first, to the extent that I almost checked out, but I'm glad I decided to hang in there — this is a hauntingly beautiful collection that grows on you. Not quite soul, not quite jazz, not quite orchestral, it's a record that staunchly defies categorization even as it entrances.

Vol. III, Webbed Wing
Like someone distilled the buzz bin of the mid-'90s, bottled it, and poured it into a new album with grungy guitars, sunny harmonies, and sticky hooks.

More to This, Marc Scibilia
This is a tremendously super-solid singer-songwriter record; it's rootsy but still somewhat polished, and the whole thing has a big, wide-open heart that'll break yours if you're feeling open enough to let it in. Like mayonnaise, this type of music doesn't have a lot of ingredients, but you can still fuck it up pretty badly if you try to make it and you don't know what you're doing.

GNX, Kendrick Lamar
Can't have a year-end list without including the guy who had arguably the best year of any mainstream musician in 2024. Much to Drake's chagrin, it's sort of Kendrick's world at the moment; the rest of us are just living in it. Kendrick has also reached the unenviable position of having everything he does compared to the brilliant musical statements he made in the past, and for a number of folks, GNX fell worryingly short of his best material. There's an argument to be made there — To Pimp a Butterfly this ain't — but it seems like needless nitpicking to me. This is still one fun record. If it represents the artist taking a somewhat lazy victory lap, he's more than earned the right to take a breath between knockout blows.

The Love It Took to Leave You, Colin Stetson
You probably don't know Colin Stetson by name, so here's everything you need to know before listening to The Love It Took to Leave You: As a collaborator, he's known for working with acts like Bon Iver and Arcade Fire, while as a composer, he's known for contributing artfully unsettling soundtracks to artfully unsettling films such as Blue Caprice and Hereditary. Here, he fulfills the expectations established by the preceding sentence, delivering an utterly hypnotic set that entrances the listener while letting in all sorts of darkness at the edges. It isn't exactly pleasant, but... no, maybe that is exactly what it is. Let it seep under your skin and see what you think.