The Clientele — I Am Not There Anymore • BUY

Long a favorite, I was bound to love any new music by this London group—but I wasn’t expecting a complete reinvention of their sound spurred by Alasdair MacLean’s newfound explorations of sampling and home recording technology. (Lest you think that implies something dully mechanical, rest assured—this is someone who thinks to use these tools to make recordings of the wind, then transcribe that for strings.) The result is an exciting triumph, their best album yet.

Bly Wallentine — nearly everything they released • BUY

That’s right, I couldn’t be bothered to pick just one among the eight singles and EPs Bly’s released this past year, because in aggregate there’s a full album’s worth of songs that are all worth hearing. Stylistically Bly knows no bounds and even on the sporadic occasions when a track is dressed in a fashion that might not be immediately up my alley (electropop, for example) I always return to it a little later and realize how amazing the song is. A remarkable, utterly unique artist.

Yael Hayem — Spot the Difference • BUY

Few phenomena surprise and delight me more than someone who seemingly comes out of nowhere to land on my year-end list. I’m astonished by the sophistication and individuality in this Boston artist’s debut, especially in light of her admission that she hadn’t per se been intending to make an album before sitting down in July to record some songs that had amassed. A remarkable talent.

I’mdifficult 我是機車少女 • BUY

It’s rare for me to find modern “sophistipop” that isn’t mere style over substance, but this Taiwanese group’s long-awaited debut album hits it out of the park with requisite dreamy atmosphere and smooth grooves combined with top-notch, deeply personal tunesmithery.

theCatherines — Wanna Meet Our Neighbours? • BUY

For a year and a half Heiko Schneider had been releasing songs in piecemeal fashion, but it wasn’t until they came together in this album about the places, characters and history of his Hamburg neighborhood that I grasped the enormity of his vision and the superlative quality of his timeless pop songwriting. A charming DIY masterpiece.

Holly Henderson — The Walls • BUY

Apart from the fact they both hail from Kent, UK, I’ve no idea why Henderson’s second album should remind me so much of Kate Bush’s early KT Bush Band. I don’t assume she made a conscious decision to channel mid-70s British folk/pop, but she’s brilliantly captured the organic warmth of musicians playing live in an intimate setting, which perfectly suits these songs about the nature of home during the pandemic years. Simply put, no other album this year made me feel as good as this one does; it gets right inside and makes me sway back and forth. As Kate sang, warm and soothing.

Grimson — Climbing Up the Chimney • BUY

Written between 2013–2017 and with individual songs materializing more than two years in advance of the album, this Berlin-based New Yorker’s debut record was a long time coming but unquestionably worth the wait. Exquisitely crafted and, like many of this year’s selections, drawing on the sort of dynamic songwriting more associated with previous decades, this is the emergence of a wonderful new artist.

Sternpost — Ulrika • BUY

The solo project of Testbild!’s Petter Herbertsson is full of the impeccable, cosmic, shimmering chamber pop that’s his speciality, and I would want nothing else. Swoonworthy even for non-Swedish-speakers.

[Only available on Bandcamp, so missing from the playlist.]

NIIKA — Still a Soft One • BUY

With arrangements that feature little more than the Russian-born, Chicago-based singer and her guitar, this languid EP is still full of intriguing melodic and compositional twists, gorgeous harmonies, and an enveloping warmth that leaves me eager for more.

Novelty Island — Wallsend Weekend Television • BUY

Remember all those elements missing from modern pop music, as mentioned in my introductory note? Look no further—they’re alive, well, and abundant in spades in the second album of restless retro pop by Liverpool-based Tom McConnell. Markedly more dynamic and fun than the material on his 2021 debut, it would be easy to perceive this album as a great leap forward when, in fact, these tracks were recorded first but shelved until now. And while he wears his early-70s influences on his sleeve, his songwriting is so strong as to escape any accusations of pastiche. Indeed, in my opinion he’s writing modern classics that deserve to be covered by artists fifty years from now.

Ellen Tsai — Strings at Sea • BUY

Following up last year’s Strings on Land EP, the Florida-based, self-trained chamber composer returns with an EP inspired by oceanic adventure. I’m always knocked out by the mastery in her work and all too eager to sing her praises.

Farmer — Spring • BUY

London-based Mike Farmer is a one-man MIDI orchestra, weaving incredible, densely-packed song cycles full of repeating motifs. His latest is a prog-pop wonderland in which the everything-plus-the-kitchen-sink arrangements never outshine the relatable humanity at the songs’ heart.

Monster Furniture — Giant Egg • BUY

An exuberantly-orchestrated outing from Brooklyn-based Gabe Smoller, the album explores the topics of isolation and connection via a narrative about a “quest to meet an animal in an enormous floating terrarium filled only with fossils.” Irresistible.

Brendan Eder Ensemble — Therapy • BUY

Inspired by the liminality between spiritual and physical realms, with a dose of Aphex Twin thrown in, I’m inclined to describe this Angeleno’s latest album with the word Eno-esque in that the spines of these compositions themselves aren’t necessarily complex—many tracks are built on a simple looping pattern—but what’s mesmerizing is the way that orchestral instruments appear, ebb, flow and interact in a gossamer, ever-changing display, like a sunrise painted with woodwinds, horns and harp.

Quincey May Brown — Basic Surgeon • BUY

The debut solo album by this Manchester songwriter and harpist is a darkly humorous delight, the quietly exquisite arrangements allowing her distinctive lyrical eviscerations to stand forcefully in the spotlight. An artist like no other.

Rachael Lavelle — Big Dreams • BUY

That voice, almost otherworldly like something emerged from the mists of a forest primeval, nestled within an ethereal pillow of electronics and organic instrumentation while commenting on modern culture with the driest of wit… there’s much to love in the debut album by this Dublin artist.

Rasmus Dahl — Unearth • BUY

This young Danish artist has created a breathtaking work of orchestral songwriting, best appreciated in its entirety.

Alex Pester — Better Days • BUY

Bath, UK-based Pester has always worn his heart on his artistic sleeve, and on this album that heart is clearly broken. The mood is blue and introspective, but his melodies are superb and his writing, arranging and production abilities more skillful than ever. Witness the sublime melancholy of the track I’ve chosen for this playlist, “So What?” (a stinging reply to the album’s previous track, “You Love Me”).

Michael R. Oldham — Absent-Minded Romance • BUY

Containing seven brief solo piano miniatures totaling barely over 15 minutes, this wisp of an album by Chicago-based Oldham is simply perfect in its evocative, romantic melancholy.

This Is the Kit — Careful of Your Keepers • BUY

Few artists have such instinct for mining the unexpected from seemingly simple ingredients as does Paris-based Kate Stables. Always essential.

Babi — Hana Furu Hi • BUY

When not composing for video games, commercials and soundtracks, Japanese artist Babi finds time to make an occasional album of kinetic, joyous, endlessly inventive songs full of sonic surprises. Guaranteed to put a smile on your face.

Lucinda Chua — YIAN • BUY

An examination of identity and dis/connection to cultural heritage, delivered in such an intimate hush that it’s almost like an internal monologue. Captivating and transportive, this seems like her most vulnerable and assured work yet.

Westerman — An Inbuilt Fault • BUY

Sounding not dissimilar from late-period Talk Talk—but without the uncompromising minimalism—Athens-based Will Westerman has crafted a beautifully textured, introspective album from pandemic-era isolation and dread.

Laura Groves — Radio Red • BUY

A companion piece of sorts to Holly Henderson’s album in that both artists’ adherence to bygone standards of songcraft seem to make their work spring from another time and leave me feeling as if I’ve been listening to this music all my life. Intimate, comforting, beautiful.

Pneumatic Tubes — Petits Bleus • BUY

A beautifully pastoral album of meditative flute and clarinet improvisations by Denton, TX-based Jesse Chandler, many recorded al fresco, embellished with overdubs to add depth and harmony. I almost didn’t include this in my list, second-guessing that some listeners might find the concept too lacking in variety to possibly warrant the nod, but I have the greatest respect for Chandler’s musical instincts and can listen to this collection on repeat without ever tiring of it.

[Only available on Bandcamp, so missing from the playlist.]

Rosie Miles — Still Life • BUY

Despite being about life put on hold during the pandemic, the debut EP by this Leeds songwriter is a supremely confident stride into the arena, her stunning voice accompanied by lush, jazz-inflected arrangements.