Best of 2021 Playlist – Songs

For a year that vacillated wildly between jubilation at seeing people I hadn’t seen in contexts I hadn’t seen for over a year and utter despair that so much of the world is still a garbage fire, one of the consistent comforts came from the flood of music I loved.  

Like last year, I loosely grouped these into “Songs” and “Spaces.” There are a number of items that could have fit on either list, this is definitely based on feel. In general, songs have lyrics and deal with a more direct emotion. Spaces should be posted tomorrow, Parting Gifts, a tribute to the (many) musicians who died this year who meant something or everything to me, will hopefully go out by the end of the weekend. 

Bandcamp links where available, courtesy of the Hype Machine’s Merch Table feature: https://hypem.com/merch-table/6Gdyaq4t4uFLUNsDRRRRmf

• Amythyst Kiah, “Hangover Blues” – Starting with this because it’s one of my favorite songs from record I loved this year, but also because thematically this year felt a lot like a hangover much of the time. 2021 was full of boundless exuberance, clinging to shards of hope, and deep crashes, guilt and piecing things together. The heavy kick-drum and gnarled, speeding and stopping guitar riff also had an arresting quality that felt like kicking the door open to this year’s playlists. 
• Reigning Sound, “Let’s Do It Again” – I waxed rhapsodic about this reunited “classic” Reigning Sound lineup several times and this was one of the songs I went back to again and again, whenever people gathered at our house, I found a reason to play this. The gleeful, unguarded longing of Greg Cartwright delivering lines like “I wanna be with you – you and me in the same room,” slides over that swinging dance beat and a for-the-ages Alex Greene organ part was what I wanted to hear most of the time this year. 
• Genesis Owusu, “A Song About Fishing” – Another song I went back to over and over again. An intriguing, loping beat with glimmering keys and Owusu’s warm baritone spinning a parable about getting up every day and doing what you think you’re here for – or doing what you can – even when, especially when, it doesn’t make a difference. 
• Moviola, “Orders of the Day – Live” – Moviola’s Broken Rainbows was one of my records of the year, and it’s the version I’d give to most people. I was disappointed to be out of town for the record release (which doubled as the reopening of the Wexner Center to live performance) though I loved everything we did in Memphis, so I was glad to have this pristine recording of it. This track, in particular, felt like it gained something from the spoken intro, that last line before the brushed drums and glowing groove kicks in, “This is a celebration and a lament,” summed up a lot of what I went looking for in music and art. And, like usual, Moviola more than delivers. 
• Valerie June featuring Carla Thomas, “Call Me a Fool” – For her first record in four years, The Moon and Stars: Prescriptions For Dreamers, Valerie June stepped up everything she already did well. She brings the great Carla Thomas on for this string-drenched new classic, as good a ‘60s soul ballad as anyone’s written or sung in years, with one of those hooks that begs singing along even as 95% of us could never even come close. 
• Lilli Lewis, “Coffee Shop Girl” – Lilli Lewis’ wide-ranging, flame-dipped Americana, Lilli Lewis hit myriad genres, delving deep into just who gets to claim that loaded term. Every one of those genres gets a sympathetic treatment, steeped in its history but not bound by it, and sung the hell out of. There wasn’t a bad song on the record, but I keep coming back to this finely chiseled struggle with empathy for “kind, reasonable” people who have no intention of ever repaying it in kind. That verse “Oh, the coffee shop girl with the warm chestnut eyes, she has nothing against integration, but the fact of the matter is how it was done went against the known will of her nation,” makes my blood run cold every time. I played it twice writing this. 
• Alostmen featuring Villy, “Teach Me” – Kicking up the tempo a little, I thought there were some tonal similarities with the kologo and goje fiddle on this track and the piano/guitar interplay on the songs before. This Ghanian band was one of my happiest discoveries this year and this driving indictment of the people trying to tell the narrator how to live their life was one of the songs on my playlists I heard the most positive feedback on. 
• Fox Face, “Fan The Flames” – Dirtnap is one of those labels that has a keen eye on exactly what I want to hear in rock and roll and Fox Face is a bullseye. Unfamiliar until I saw a notice that they were putting out their second album, End of Man, and I loved it immediately. This is my favorite single riff of the year: a galloping, surging blast of adrenaline and fury. 
• The Hold Steady, “Entitlement Crew” – I liked the way this more mid-tempo riff seemed to slide right out of the last song’s pummeling. I’m a little surprised how moved I was by big chunks of this year’s Hold Steady record, having not listened much to them for years, but I had a big grin on my face every time this song came up. Finn’s dispersing with a straightforward narrative and replacing it with a series of impressionistic images, snatches of conversations, and emotions, worked for me. And it’s a great example of their skill at writing a ready-made set closer to get their fans pumping fists, “Thanks for listening, thanks for understanding, can’t you see how I feel I’ve been abandoned? Never got to say goodbye to you – give my best to the entitlement crew.” 
• Jazmine Sullivan, “Pick Up Your Feelings” – Every song on Heaux Tales hit me hard but this, with its slinky and menacing beat, stabs of bass and backing vocals, and melody weaving and flowing through the textures took my breath away every time. This song is everything I want in R&B, the mix of melancholy and horny, excited and cool. 
• Adia Victoria, “Troubled Mind” – Adia Victoria’s A Southern Gothic is one of my records of the year and I’m still unpacking it. This prayer, part confession, part notice of defiance, with Victoria holding her voice steady, the character taking stock – “I’ve got junk in my veins, Lord… I wanna behave, Lord, but I’ve been led astray, Lord,” with a heavy kick drum and a bass line like a creeping shadow, breaking apart with a roaring, painful guitar solo from her partner Mason Hickman, then reasserting the tentative, unsteady sense of control. I hope the Jason Isbell show in a few weeks happens for a few reasons but getting to see her open is high on the list. 
• Dawn Richard, “Bussifame” – The couple times we felt comfortable throwing parties, this was high on the list. I’ve been a fan of Dawn Richard since her work on Diddy’s Euro-ish club record Last Train To Paris (one of my great guilty pleasures, many of you have heard it on jukeboxes when I’m getting loose), and her new record, Second Line, and this advance single are dancefloor perfection.  
• Don Bryant, “A World Like That” – One of the great soul singers and writers of the 20^th century is still performing at a remarkably high level. Bryant’s full-length last year was one of my records of the year and this one-off single, written by John Paul Keith, takes a more laid-back Northern Soul approach, with a rhythm meant for twirling around a dancefloor and laid-back horn charts, and ties it to a gorgeous lament that’s given me comfort since I heard JPK do it on one of his livestreams in the darkest days of last year. This is a perfect pairing of singer and song – like Aretha doing Otis Redding’s “Respect,” like Aretha doing Don Covay’s “See Saw”, like Solomon Burke doing “He’ll Have To Go.” 
•  Chris Pierce, “It’s Been Burning For A While” – A grimmer, studied, and true look at the same world on fire as the Bryant track. Pierce’s American Silence feels in close-up, zoomed in on every nuance, every bit of gravel or crack in his voice, and his throbbing, percussive acoustic guitar. A cri de coeur in the purest, best sense. “It’s been burning for a while, glad you stopped to see. Ain’t no water gonna douse it down, until you hear from me.” 
• Miko Marks, “Pour Another Glass” – Marks’ Our Country was a tonic for me, the kind of classic country record with rich production and substance I don’t often catch onto – except, of course, she’s working independently because Nashville didn’t “see a place” for a black singer when she made a go of it. However she got here – and I’m furious someone this strong had to back-door it – I love these songs. This classic soul-country (with a swinging organ part) gospel riff was one of the songs on her record I revisited over and over. 
• Gentleman Jesse, “God Is Blind” – I had no idea a new Gentleman Jesse record was even in the offing. One of my favorite songwriters – when I saw him at Ace of Cups I told twenty people about it in the next week – this Atlanta-based artists takes a lower-key approach here, the hooks aren’t as big and as shiny, but they get under my skin just as badly. The ‘60s slashing, treble-y guitar and backing vocal oohs are icing on the cake. 
• Yola, “Whatever You Want” – I was kicking myself for missing Yola and Amythyst Kiah right before the pandemic, I liked Walk Through Fire a great deal. Her follow-up, Stand For Myself, had me kicking myself twice as a hard. A classic country-disco hybrid that reminded me of the best parts of those Kenny Rogers records that were always playing when I was a kid, with one of those hooks I couldn’t dislodge from my head even if I wanted to. 
• Jane Weaver, “Solarized” – Also riffing on a similar late-disco period with a little more of a post-punk sheen. I knew Kill Laura a little but wasn’t aware of Weaver’s solo stuff but this closing track on Flock was a song I put on whenever I needed a burst of sunshine. The melting, overheated, stuttering-heart-beat quality of the production feels exactly like the moment when a club turns into an oasis, these strangers all feel impossibly connected to you, and you’re simultaneously aware of how tenuous it all. “I’m just saying that I just can’t see the lights.” 
• Witchtit, “Intoxicating Lethargy” – I get a little resonance in the basslines of this to the last couple songs, but this is definitely the comedown, sweating out the hangover of that frenzied interaction and intense emotions we just went through. The riff is as punishing as the 11 am sunlight through the windows of the morning after and Reign’s vocal is the echoing truth. 
• Frozen Soul, “Crypt of Ice” – Another favorite metal band I discovered this year, Dallas’ Frozen Soul is everything I grew up loving in death metal – the thick, symbiotic rhythm section of Samantha Mobley and Matt Dennard lay down a carpet of textures for Chris Bonner and Michael Munday’s churning riffs and Chad Green’s desiccated vocals. 
• City Champs, “Freddie King For Now” – Still heavy but from a different angle, rocking Memphis organ trio City Champs reformed this year for a record that holds its own with their classics. Guaranteed to get a dancefloor not just moving but sweating. 
• Laura Mvula, “Church Girl” – Laura Mvula took textures associated with “’80s music” that usually makes my teeth itch and deployed them in a song that I found infectious and impossible to ignore. One of my favorite hooks of the year – “How can you dance with the devil on your back?” 
• Huntertones featuring Louis Cato,” Love’s In Need Of Love Today” – Horn-driven jazz-jam band Huntertones keep refining their approach and their rapport with one another and with guests, here singer-songwriter Louis Cato. This slice of sun-dappled pop funk with a gorgeous brass line made me smile every time I heard it. 
• Allison Russell, “Persephone” – I’ve been a fan of Allison Russell since hearing Birds of Chicago but it didn’t prepare me for Outside Child, my favorite record of the year by some distance. Every song is perfectly crafted, from the glowing vocals to the spacious arrangements. Had probably the hardest time choosing a single song from it of anything on this list – I don’t think there’s a bad call – but this one kept calling me. “My petals are bruised, but I’m still a flower. Come running to you in your violet hour. Put your skinny arms around me, let me taste your skin.” 
• Merry Clayton, “He Made a Way” – Shifting into a higher gear – in a couple of senses – Merry Clayton, one of those voices pop music as I know wouldn’t be the same without, stepped out front with a remarkable contemporary gospel record. This track, shifting from addressing God directly to referring to him in the third person, is a powerhouse testament to not only her faith but to the power of music. 
• Sons of Kemet featuring Moor Mother and Angel Bat Dawid, “Pick Up Your Burning Cross” – As Clayton reminds us of the good people and systems of faith can do in concert with one another, Sons of Kemet try to drive out those who seek to use the same systems to do harm, to oppress, to torture. A vibrant, powerful groove driven by Theon Hicks’ tuba and Edward Wakili-Hick’s and Tom Skinner’s production, and Shabaka Hutchings and Steve Williamson on tenor, augmented by Angel bat Dawid’s clarinet and Moor Mother’s vocals, power as potent a statement as the first time I read the great Amiri Baraka line “I can pray / all day / & God / wont come. // But if I call / 911 / The Devil /Be here // in a minute!” 
• Dry Cleaning, “Scratchcard Lanyard” – Dry Cleaning plow the terrain of classic late ‘70s-early ‘80s post-punk with barbed wire guitar, a jittery, staccato, bounce, and marvelously disaffected vocals from Florence Shaw. Like all my favorite songs of that era, this works as a party and an indictment. “Do everything, feel nothing.” 
• Bad Waitress, “Too Many Bad Habits” – This Canadian quartet also released their debut album this year and it’s a little more in your face, a little less removed, and it scratches a different itch while similarly reminding me of those early ‘20s nights so full of possibility even when 2/3 of them are more disappointing than you’d like “Too many bad habits to be this broke.” 
• Elizabeth King, “Mighty Good God” – Memphis legend Elizabeth King started recording in the ‘70s but didn’t put a full-length under her own name out until this year’s magical Living in the Last Days. With a killer band including Will Sexton, Al Gamble, and Jim Spake, this raw gospel record is exactly what I needed this year. 
• Lara Downes with Nicole Cabell, “What Lips My Lips Have Kissed” – I love some Edna St. Vincent Millay. Pianist Lara Downes put out a treasure trove of work by often overlooked black composers this year, including this gorgeous setting of one of my favorite Millay poems, sung by Nicole Cabell. 
• Marissa Nadler featuring Mary Lattimore, “If I Could Breathe Underwater” – I’ve been a fan of Marissa Nadler for years and to my eyes she’s never made a bad record. Her new one, The Path of the Clouds, follows the dreamy, impressionistic textures of the last few and the harp of Mary Lattimore adds to the reverberating, rich atmosphere. 
• Hypnotic Brass Ensemble featuring Moses Sumney, “Soon It Will Be Fire” – I was not expecting this advance single. I was lucky to see Hypnotic Brass Ensemble – featuring the sons of Phil Cohran – at SOBs and it was one of the biggest dance parties I’d ever been to. This shines a light on the meditative quality of that massed brass, wrapping around a gorgeous, contemplative song from Sumney, verses like arrayed and faded postcards with softly swelling horns around him like light. 
• Michael Cashmore featuring ANOHNI, “The Night Has Rushed In” – Longstanding member of Current 93, pianist-composer Michael Cashmore released this gorgeous hope-for-transcendence with a lyric by Current 93 leader David Tibet and a stunning, keening vocal from ANOHNI. Beautiful and a beautiful reminder of the pleasures of keeping your friends close and going deep with them. 
• Kneeling in Piss, “Return, Return/Types of Cults” – I was a fan of leader Alex Mussawir’s previous band Future Nuns, but with the looser collective Kneeling in Piss he’s making the best rock records in Columbus at the moment. The foregrounded guitar and receding vocals over straight drums create a liminal space I just sort of want to float in, even when it makes me want to dance. 
• Todd Snider, “Never Let a Day Go By” – What I realize is an oblique “live for today” set in the middle of the playlist rolls along. Todd Snider, one of the finest American songwriters, has made better, more nuanced records over the last few years, engaging more with texture and groove, and First Agnostic Church of Hope and Wonder is another step forward. The shuddering groove here supports his gravelly voice as it slides easily between new-barstool-best-friend and manic preacher and it’s always a voice I need to hear. 
• Spellling, “The Future” – Spellling (Chrystia Cabral) crafted bigger, lush arrangements for her deeply personal, not-giving-too-much away songs. The earworm horn riff on this song shadows, even chases, the questioning vocal. “I don’t know if this love will last, baby, so far in the past, ‘cause I live in the future.” 
• Rosali, “Pour Over Ice” – One of my favorite singer-songwriter discoveries this year, Rosali balances shredding guitar and melancholy introspection as well as anyone I’ve heard since Jason Molina. The infectious, ragged riff fits perfectly with a lyric that’s sifting through the wreckage. “Maybe I didn’t care enough or can’t remember. Chasing small pleasures. Making fire from embers.” 
• Lainey Wilson, “Small Town, Girl” – The low-to-the-ground groove exploding into an anthemic chorus reminded me of the last song and also reminded me of my favorite period of the Chicks. Wilson’s voice navigates the long southern rock lines of the verses and the hard-stopped, rhythmic pulse of the bridge with equal adeptness. 
• Jon Batiste, “FREEDOM” – Easily my favorite of Batiste’s venturing into non-jazz genres, this is a classic piece of sunshine soul, the kind of joy you can’t get with your head in the sand and a reminder of everything worth living for, set to an infectious groove and a horn chart that blows my hair back. 
• John Paul Keith, “The Rhythm of the City” – Another of my favorite horn charts this year, John Paul Keith returned with his best, most fully realized record yet, adding a full horn section, and created a series of perfect looks at Memphis, one of my favorite cities. A paean to being where you are, knowing the value and beauty of your home, and honoring its past while still living firmly in the now. 
• Amyl and The Sniffers, “Freaks To The Front” – One of the most exciting rock bands working returned with a record that upped the color and intensity without sacrificing any of the rough looseness that makes them irresistible. One of the finest shout-along choruses this year with a buzzsaw guitar solo. 
• Jorja Smith, “Burn” – One of my favorite R&B records of the year. London-based singer Smith hangs back and draws the listener toward her, with the help of a subtle drum part, slide guitar and shading from the keys. “You keep it all in, you don’t let it all out – you try so hard but you know you’re burned out.” 
• Kodie Shane featuring Jacquees, “Lets Not Fall in Love” – A friend at work turned me onto Jacquees’ work a few years ago and I’m still kicking myself for not seeing him at the Newport. His feature got me to check out this delightful duet with up-and-coming R&B singer Kodie Shane. 
• Quantic featuring Eddie Roberts, “The Clock Won’t Tick” – This collaboration between Quantic and New Mastersounds’ Eddie Roberts is a horn-spiked dancefloor smash. 
• New Memphis Colorways, “Hangover Funk” – Pulling some of the threads together, the squelchy keyboard bass and cracking drums on this track from Memphis artist Paul Taylor distort and melt into woozy shapes, leaving acid trails behind them. It’s just as funky and fresh, but you need to show up loose. 
• Crypta, “Dark Night of the Soul” – The debut album from this Brazilian/Dutch band that grew out of Nervosa, pairs big, rock and roll bass and guitars to death metal drums and delivery, one of my sweet spots. This song is a prime example but the whole record is consistent, if you dig this, you’d dig any of it. 
• Marc Anthony, “Pa’lla Voy” – A similar thickness pervades this salsa burner – adapted from the Wolof song “Yay Boy” – driven by an insistent piano and flamethrower trumpets, led into party battle by Anthony, leaning into and making the most of the new textures in his weathered, deeper voice. 
• Ghetto Priest, “Sway” – London reggae star revisited songs of his childhood on his intoxicating record Big People Music, mixed by Adrian Sherwood. This version of my Grandmother’s favorite Dean Martin tune won my heart immediately and hasn’t let go of it since. 
• Cadence Weapon featuring Jacques Greene, “SENNA” – Canadian rapper Cadence Weapon teams up with electronic artist Greene (who knocked me sideways playing the Wexner Center’s Off the Grid event a few years ago) and the nimble, fencing rhymes go beautifully with the slightly unnerving, undertow soundscapes. 
• Mekka Don, “Still Dope” – I regret losing touch with my city’s hip-hop scene, when I used to have at least a partial pulse on it. So, I was happy when this single by Mekka Don hit my radar. A horn-splashed fist-pumping anthem of hope. 
• The Mountain Goats, “Arguing With the Ghost of Peter Laughner About His Coney Island Baby Review” – John Darnielle’s Mountain Goats put out two terrific albums, and their first couple live records, so far during the pandemic, and this year’s Dark In Here finds them at the height of their powers – as did the moving show Anne and I saw at Royal Oak Music Theatre. I return repeatedly to this song, referencing Peter Laughner (who wrote my personal choice for Ohio Rock Song, “Amphetamine,” along with classics like “Baudelaire,” in a short life also marked by Lester Bangs’ powerful remembrance referencing the review in the title of this song), and dedicated to David Berman who took his own life with some parallels to Laughner in life and legend. This is a prime example of the intimacy, delicate-ness and empathy that first drew me to Mountain Goats, but using all the additional craft and arranging he’s grown into with the more expansive albums of the last decade. “Hurt too hard, too long, and die too young. Silver dollar glistening on your tongue.” 
• Joy Oladokun, “Taking the Heat” – This piano-driven highlight from Oladokun’s stellar In Defense of My Own Happiness, starts with a similar intimacy to the same song and expands in an organic way with a subtle, intriguing drum pattern and backing vocals. It finds the hope in questions and in defiance of the way things are, and it finds empathy on a textual level and in a warm singalong. “The pain of it – the rage of what it takes just to be awake.” 
• William Parker, “A Great Day to Be Dead” – William Parker was one of my first heroes when I started getting into free jazz as a teenager and he still is. I’ve seen him a dozen times in different configurations, owned probably 50 of his records over the years, and he’s never let me down. This year’s 10-disc Migration of Silence Into and Out of the Tone World was a panoply of styles and featuring myriad collaborators on a remarkably consistent interlocking set of suites. The sampler on Spotify is great, but I’m still unpacking and treasuring my purchase of the whole thing on bandcamp back in January. This song, led by Mara Rosenbloom’s piano and Raina Sokolov-Gonzalez’s voice with delicate chamber music backing, constantly beguiled me with the gorgeous melody and its vision of hope and assembled pantheon of guiding lights. “Walking down the path is Moses, talking to Alice Coltrane and Betty Shabazz, going down to the river where hope never dies. Going down to the river where hope never dies.” 
• Taylor Swift, “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” – With the press ubiquity of Red (Taylor’s Version) there isn’t much left to say. But it’s my favorite Taylor Swift record – still – and one of the great singer-songwriter records of my lifetime, and for me the additional material really enhanced the terrific re-recording of the original album. This messy, gestational version of “All Too Well” makes its overstuffed quality and its rough edges into an asset, the album version is perfect, carved down and essential, but this look into process and the turned-up-flame of the intensity led to me playing it over and over, especially on long autumn walks. 
• James McMurtry, “Canola Fields” – The last couple albums from McMurtry highlight all his strengths and expand the sonic palette around his feels-like-it’s-always-been-here voice, I don’t want to say culminating but damned if The Horses and the Hounds might not be his masterpiece. This song is a perfect example of the kind of digressive, feels like it’s ripped right out of a conversation with him, deceptively layered and crafted, first-person character study he does better than anyone I can think of.  The easy lilt of the guitars and the snare drum make it feel like a travelogue while the narrator reaches in and rips my heart out. “We all drifted away with the days getting shorter, seeking our place in the greater scheme: kids and careers and a vague sense of order, busting apart at the seams.” 
• Declan O’Rourke, “The Harbour” – I first heard this from John Wendland, a great friend and a perpetual inspiration, for his KDHX radio show Memphis to Manchester, and so much else. There’s a fascinating timbre to this Scottish singer that reminds me a little bit of Gordon Lightfoot, with weighty string arrangements and a dramatic intensity in the delivery that productively sparks against the lyrical detail as sharply observed as an Elizabeth Bishop sonnet. 
• Queen Esther, “Wishin’ on the Cars” – I have waxed rhapsodic – bored people – about Chip Robinson from the Backsliders’ under-recognized solo record Mylow for years. So while enjoying Harlem-based folksinger Queen Esther’s stellar record Gild The Black Lily my eyebrows shot up hearing this definitive version of one of my favorite wistful numbers from that Robinson record. Craig Dreyer’s sympathetic production highlights the gleam of the acoustic guitar and the warmth in Queen Esther’s voice, putting us right in the room. “Though some miles lay between us I swear I’ll never be too far. I’ll keep my porch lights burning and I’ll keep wishing on the cars.” 
• John Hiatt and Jerry Douglas, “The Music is Hot” – I loved that collaborative record between singer-songwriter Hiatt and dobro player Jerry Douglas’s band, Leftover Feelings. It grants spaciousness and warm jazz textures to Hiatt’s always rock-solid songs. This dreamy retrospective of the power of music and, in particular, radio, vibrated right through my bones – Douglas’s vocal quality on the dobro shadowing Hiatt’s voice, highlighting every nook and cranny like a Rembrandt painting, with glowing fiddles and backing vocals for a chiaroscuro effect. “You got a story ‘bout twenty miles long, you’ve got a tune like a number one song. You got the sweat like the shirt off my back – you’ve got the heart, let me open it a crack.” 
• Caetano Veloso, “Sem Samba Não Dá” – I knew Hiatt’s songs earlier – I’m sure I’d heard “Memphis in the Meantime” and “Perfectly Good Guitar” on QFM as a kid – but I think I bought the best-of that made me a fan on the same trip to Used Kids Records as my first Caetano Veloso record when I was 19, so they’re always a little bit linked in my mind.  There are other similarities – sly wordplay and social commentary that always puts people at the fore of their songs, ravenous appetites for varying types of music and the world, and a warmth that grows as their voices age. And they both put out records I loved this year. Veloso’s Meu Coco self-produced during quarantine with musicians including his son Tom, longtime arranger Jacques Morelenbaum (whose electric cello solo when I saw him play with Veloso many years ago still sticks with me), is a similar look back on memory and experience, given time to reflect (if translations of the lyrics are to be believed). 
• Jesse Malin, “Greener Pastures” – Another pastoral character study, and one of my favorite songs from Malin’s lovely Sad And Beautiful World double album, written with longtime collaborator and friend Holly Ramos. The piano on this, I assume from Rob Clores, and the supple rhythm section of James Cruz and Randy Schrager, provides the perfect backdrop for this paean to tentative hope and the search for reasons we all keep going. “I lost a friend this morning, well, I just saw them last week. This fragile world’s so bittersweet. I’m waiting on an answer but it hasn’t shown up yet. We all want a reason to believe.” 
• Lucy Dacus, “Hot & Heavy” – I was blown away the first time I saw Dacus, opening for Hamilton Leithauser, not knowing any of her material. This year’s Home Video exploded those expectations and took my admiration of her to another level. This look back on a youthful romance builds in intensity and drama without ever feeling forced or contrived. “When I went away, it was the only option; couldn’t trust myself to proceed with caution. The most that I could give to you is nothing at all. The best that I could offer was to miss your calls.” 
• Steve Dawson, “Time To Remember” – Another record I found out about through John Wendland’s Memphis to Manchester show. I’ve been a fan of Chicago singer-songwriter Dawson’s work with Dolly Varden and solo for years, since discovering him at a Twangfest day show and his new record At The Bottom of a Canyon In the Branches of a Tree synthesizes his various stylistic shifts into one of his most consistent statements. This song is a perfect slab of folk-soul with a boiling Hi Records-recalling organ line and a subtle Curtis Mayfield wink on the smooth falsetto vocal, all instruments courtesy of Dawson himself. “Time to remember all over again: love’s the only way that we’re gonna survive.” 
• Aquarian Blood, “Count My Love” – I liked the early fruits of Memphis band Aquarian Blood’s, the collaboration of JB Horrell from Ex-Cult and Laurel Horrell from Nots, shift to folk music, but Bending the Golden Hour turned that into full-blown love, helped by a seven-piece version’s raucous revival closing set at Gonerfest. This song throbs and shimmers like autumn sunlight through the trees on a side street or bouncing off the river. 
• Ledisi featuring the Metropole Orkestra, “Four Women” – I’ve loved Ledisi’s work for years, almost as long as I’ve loved Nina Simone, but I still had some trepidation about Ledisi Sings Nina – I was a damn idiot. It’s the rare tribute/repertoire that shines new light on the inspiration and stands proudly alongside the original work. This song in particular dazzles as Ledisi slips between the voices/characters of the lyric and jousts with the intensity of the orchestral arrangement. 
• Wanda Jackson, “You Drive Me Wild” – I’m on record as really enjoying the recent Wanda Jackson revival records with collaborators like Rosie Flores, Jack White, and Justin Townes Earle, but the new one produced by Joan Jett and Kenny Laguna, is a match made in heaven. This take on a Jett classic turns up the swing and blues elements on the rhythm section and guitars and adds pumping barrelhouse piano at the heart of the tune, something that would fit right into Jackson’s honky-tonk roots. 
• Carcass, “The Scythe’s Remorseless Swing” – I loved Carcass the moment I heard them in High School and their first reunion record Surgical Steel made me happy, the live show at the Newport alongside Gorguts even more so, but Torn Arteries brings them back to full power and even took me back to reevaluate the more traditional rock and roll elements from Heartwork as this record and song feel like an extension of that ‘90s record. The undeniable swing and propulsion here let the death metal riffs glint in the sunlight. 
• Los Lobos, “Los Chucos Suaves” – I really enjoyed Los Lobos’ tribute to their LA roots, Native Sons, especially this hard-swinging romp through a Lalo Guerrero classic. 
• Southern Avenue, “Don’t Hesitate (Call Me)” – With Be the Love You Want, Memphis soul torchbearers Southern Avenue made a record as good as their smoldering live show. This sultry midtempo tune, boasting finger snaps, a glistening horn line, and a deep-fried guitar solo, is an instant late-night classic and I can’t wait to hear how they stretch it out live. 
• Rauw Alejandro, “Todo De Ti” – This smash from the king of neo-reggaeton is like candy, a dancefloor burner that made me wish we’d thrown more parties. The fleetfooted delivery of the lyrics over the deep river of bass and synthetic handclaps, everything fits together perfectly. 
• Connie Smith, “Here Comes My Baby Back Again” – In some strange way, it felt like this Connie Smith song split the difference on the previous two: the communal joy and looseness of the Alejandro and the sweat-soaked drama of the Southern Avenue, with a powerhouse vocal and a classic roadhouse-country arrangement that couldn’t be anyone else. Smith, at 80 still singing as brilliantly as ever, crushes this classic “I know I shouldn’t” tune co-written with her husband and producer Marty Stuart, slides along and waltzes with Gary Carter’s pedal steel and a rich ‘50s-recalling string section. 
• Son of Dribble, “Dusty” – One of my favorite new Columbus bands, Vicki Mahnke’s drumming propels this slice of storytelling with a crushing vocal from Andy Clager and sweetly grinding guitar courtesy of Darren Latanick. “Dusty, light it up for us.” 
• Snail Mail, “Ben Franklin” – I liked Lindsey Jordan’s work as Snail Mail previously but Valentine felt sharper and crisper. The thick, swaggering drums and long keyboard tones drive a longing, searching vocal and sticky hooks. “You wanna leave a stain like a relapse does when you really try. Said you would’ve died for me.” 
• Aaron Lee Tasjan, “Traveling After Dark” – I also loved Tasjan’s breakthrough record Tasjan! Tasjan! Tasjan! this year but this is my favorite tune from the Neal Casal tribute record Highway Butterfly and I wanted to honor both Tasjan’s astonishing home-run-filled year and this tribute that turned me onto the songwriter catalog of someone I mostly knew as a guitarist. This puts Tasjan in class-Tom Petty mode and I had multiple “Have you heard this?” conversations within a week of it coming out, including one with pal Quinn Fallon where we said “Holy shit” in unison. “We all want something real and we’re all hoping to find a closer way to feel. Just one thing to remind, just one way to forgive, sometimes you fall too far.” 
• Brandi Carlile, “Broken Horses” – This big, throttle-down anthem was one of those moments this year when the world shifted to technicolor from a rainbow of grays. Produced by Dave Cobb and Shooter Jennings, this balances melancholy and swagger like all the best rock and roll with one of the finest hooks of the year. “Only broken horses know to run.” 
• Joshua Ray Walker, “Gas Station Roses” – I was kicking myself for not being hip to Joshua Ray Walker until this year and See You Next Time, the conclusion of a trilogy. It’s a perfect neo-honky tonk record full of finely observed songs, killer arrangements – the fiddle part here crushes me – and devastating vocals. It didn’t take look for me to see the bright side in that: there’s a whole catalogue for me to dig into. 
• Tommy Womack, “I Thought I Was Fine” – Tommy Womack continues to make the most of his gains after the “giving it up” record There I Said It, and this title track from his latest album is a quintessential example of the wry and unsparing self-assessments in deceptively catchy song form he does so well. “I changed all my strings – they were all clear and bright. The stars were out shining, it was a beautiful night. I thought I could see, didn’t know I was blind. I was laughing last night, I thought I was fine.” 
• Lilly Hiatt, “Better” – With Lately, Lilly Hiatt adds a second record I love and am desperately looking forward to seeing her do live. This song builds on the template of swaggering introspection and love for the world she refined with Walking Proof, a guitar that echoes in my head long after the song stops spinning and a lyric, with judicious echo on the vocal, that haunts me in different ways. “You say you want to do things with your life. Baby, don’t we all? Turn on the fucking porch light and answer my call.” 
• Helado Negro, “Hometown Dream” – Helado Negro always gives me something to sink into and I think Far In is his strongest record yet. A hip shaking disco-ish shuffling drum and cymbal pattern cuts through the gorgeous haze of keyboard and sets up the roiling, seductive vocal. “Cause now my mind’s made up, there’s no looking back.” 
• Mike Pride featuring JG Thirlwell, “America’s So Straight” – I’ve been a big fan of drummer-composer-bandleader Mike Pride’s work since seeing him in a band with my childhood pal Mike Gamble called Snuggle/Stencil at the Bowery Poetry Club, and I’ve followed him through projects with free jazz legends like Darius Jones and William Parker, avant-rock superstars The Boredoms, free-metal scorchers like Mick Barr, and everything in between. Here, Pride takes his tenure with first-wave punks MDC and translates those songs into offbeat jazz standards, a concept that worked so well and so surprisingly I had to text two of my old friends from that scene and tell them about it. This song adds JG Thirlwell (Foetus) on grim, grinning lounge lizard vocals that send it over the top. “Why is America so straight, and me so bent?” 
• Terrace Martin featuring Leon Bridges and D Smoke, “Sick of Cryin’” – Saxophonist/composer/producer Martin’s new record DRONES is full of cutting-edge R&B tracks. This one has a high end, swanky vibe flecked with crime-movie soundtrack textures, interlaced with gripping vocals from Leon Bridges and D Smoke. 
• L’Rain, “Suck Teeth” – I was a latecomer to this widely acclaimed record but once it clicked for me, the floodgates opened. A series of moody landscapes and unsettling, impressionistic lyrics with an intoxicating vocal. 
• Zsela, “Earlier Days (Umfang Remix) – I didn’t know anything about Zsela, daughter of Marc Anthony Thompson (Chocolate Genius) until I was interviewing Marc Ribot earlier this year. Once I checked her work out, I was stunned. This subtle club track finds her working with Umfang from the Discwoman collective who blew me away a few years ago at the Wexner Center’s Off The Grid. 
• Moor Mother, “Zami” – One of my favorite rappers and songwriters, Moor Mother’s Black Encyclopedia of the Air blew me away this year. My first exposure to the term “Zami” was Audre Lorde’s biomythography and this eponymous song uses those same strains of biography and mythology, with a judicious helping of Afrofuturism. “Fuck you say? I can’t hear you. I’m one with God.” 
• Hayes Carll, “Nice Things” – One of my favorite current purveyors of the Texas wry, heartbreaking troubadour tradition. I kind of jumped off the track a couple records ago but You Get It All, and a stellar show I caught with Anne this fall, won me back. This two-stepping vision of God returning to earth and baffled indictment of our cruelty and hypocrisy is a centerpiece of the record and was a centerpiece of that long Thursday set. “She walked out of jail with a rap sheet and no money, went looking for a coffee and passed by an angry mob. They were yelling about people who should suffer pain eternal. She asked one for a dollar, and they said, ‘Sinner, get a job.’” 
• Andrew Garfield, “Why” – Like anyone who grew up around theatre kids in the ‘90s, I had a complicated relationship with Jonathan Larson. I was drawn to and a little too cool to be (publicly) into Rent, then through the deep advocacy of some friends, particularly my pal Kate, I saw the gorgeous, glowing songs and came to appreciate what was overstuffed, what probably would have been tweaked or changed if he had time. I liked Tick, Tick, Boom quicker, at least in the three-character David Auburn adaptation, listening intently to the 2001 cast recording and a few years later I was enraptured (before I was writing about theatre for anybody) by a terrific production from Evolution Theatre Company with a stellar cast of Jonathan Collura, Kaitlin Descutner, and Christopher Storer, that set me on a path of checking out anything they did. The Lin-Manuel Miranda film adaptation wasn’t perfect, but I was extremely glad Anne and I saw it in a theater. This song, one of my favorite Larson melodies and one of those perfect songs about why anyone makes art and puts it in the world, got a fascinating staging with Andrew Garfield on the empty Delacorte stage in Central Park in the rain, and I think the recording holds up. This has given me hope for 20 years and this year? It still does. “When we emerged, wiped out by that play, nine o’clock stars and moon lit the way. I thought Hey, what a way to spend a day! I made a vow. I wonder now, Am I cut out to spend my time this way?”