The Ringer’s 30 Best Albums of 2024

The sexiest album of the year is the score for one of the sexiest movies of the year—which, incidentally, features zero sex. It’s courtesy of your old Nine Inch Nails pals Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, whose names still elicit a slight bit of surprise when they appear in the credits, even 14 years and 17 scores into this grand movie experiment. This one, the backing music to Luca Guadagnino’s steamy tennis melodrama, is easily one of their best. Come for the Run Lola Run–esque pulse of the title number; stay for the slinking classical-electro bounce of “Final Set.” Just don’t get me started on some of the other music in the movie.

Key tracks: “Challengers,” “Final Set”

The second posthumous collection from the late L.A. rapper, Drakeo’s The Undisputed Truth is another showcase for what Mr. Big Bank Uchies did best. Across 14 tracks culled from the prolific recording sessions of his final year, Drakeo unfurls an array of sneak-attack punch lines, coldly menacing threats, and quirked-up turns of phrase and references that would make Cam’ron jealous. (You ever heard someone cram the names Demarcus Cousins and Archie Bunker into a song before?) He sounds alternately weary—his voice a frayed, strained whisper, even more than it had previously—and his typical boastful self. (Try not to smile when, on “I’m the Reason,” he raps, “If a devil wears Prada, it’s most likely me.”) Ultimately, The Undisputed Truth lays bare what was the case long before his killing in the shadows of the Coliseum in late 2021—and also what was lost that night: Drakeo was the most influential L.A. rapper of his generation, and he was just getting started.

Key tracks: “I’m the Reason,” “Diss Me Again”

Take away that Celtics championship, and it’s been a great year to be an Angeleno. The Dodgers finally won a real championship! Kendrick Lamar not only vanquished his chief rival—he also put on for his city in the process! And while this collaboration isn’t quite as rafter-worthy as a World Series and a world-stopping beef, it is another point of hometown pride. The 13-track LP finds the rapper Blu—who also put out a second great record this year with his old partner Exile—and rapper-producer Evidence (of Dilated Peoples fame) teaming up for a dusty-loop salute to the city that raised them. Sonically, Los Angeles is a tribute to the underground sound of the region—it’s fitting that the best track, “The Land,” not only flips the same sample as Cypress Hill’s “Hand on the Pump” but also features an extended interlude from DJ Muggs. But mostly, the record’s a journey through the contradictions of L.A.: a place where wearing the wrong color could have dire consequences, but also a place that tourists pour millions of dollars into every year—where picturesque scenery is dotted with homeless encampments. It’s hell, but it’s also heaven. Now if only something could be done about those Lakers. 

Key tracks: “The Land,” “Los Angeles”

Gouge Away is a hardcore band through and through, but it’s instructive that they’re named after a song by the indie rock pioneers Pixies. Look at a track like “Idealized,” the first single off Gouge Away’s great third album, Deep Sage—it takes the quiet-loud-quiet-LOUD proposition to the extreme. That vibe permeates throughout the record. You get moments like “Stuck in a Dream”—which sets singer Christina Michelle’s pained musings to some of the hardest drumming you’ll hear all year, courtesy Thomas Cantwell—and others like “Dallas,” the six-minute, fuzz-driven power-pop closer, which is on my short list for the best songs of the year. To think, this album almost didn’t come out—blame the pandemic, blame the band members drifting to different parts of the country, blame the toll of touring and recording and trying to make it as an honest-to-god band in the 21st century. But it’s here, and it’s remarkable, and it may just lull you into a false sense of security before punching you in the face. 

Key tracks: “Dallas,” “Stuck in a Dream”

In case you haven’t heard, hardcore’s gone mainstream. Well, at least as much as any guitar music can in 2024. Thank Turnstile—or blame them, depending on where you sit. (We’re big fans over here, so take your beefs to Reddit.) But also, let’s not ignore Militarie Gun in a Taco Bell commercial or Knocked Loose on Jimmy Kimmel Live! It’s boom times for the genre, and it’s important context for High Vis, which hasn’t quite reached Glow On levels of popularity, but for my money is making some of the hookiest, most accessible hardcore around. On their great third record, Guided Tour, Graham Sayle and his band deliver earworms on tracks like “Drop Me Out” and “Feeling Bless,” songs that would likely be massive hits in a different era. But while those songs show off Sayle’s melodic instincts, they can only half prepare you for Guided Tour’s biggest departure and biggest moment: “Mind’s a Lie,” a track that combines a pulsing down-tempo house rhythm with jangly alt-rock. It’s a sign of where the genre is that this track feels at home in this world. It’s a testament to High Vis that it’s one of the songs of the year.

Key tracks: “Mind’s a Lie,” “Drop Me Out”

Cavalier is a New Orleans–by-way-of-Brooklyn rapper who releases music through Billy Woods’s Backwoodz Studioz label. But if you have even a passing familiarity with what those things mean, you could probably sense that upon first listen of Different Type Time. The album—six years in the making—is a place where jazz, boom bap, and Creole coexist, often combining to create a sublime gumbo. That’s partly a credit to the uniformly excellent production, headlined by Quelle Chris. But it’s also a testament to Cavalier, who breezes through dense rhymes to paint a hypnotic picture. It’s easy to get lost in something like “Told You,” where Cav bobs and weaves around syllables like a young Nas. But this isn’t all homage—songs like “Pears” and “Come Proper” feel as fresh as they do familiar, as disjointed as they are soothing. In Cavalier’s hands, time truly does move differently.

Key tracks: “Told You,” “Flourish,” “Custard Spoon”

“Come right on me, I mean camaraderie,” sings the former Disney star just two lines before uttering the phrase, “Why not uponeth me?” The song is “Bad Chem,” and it captures Sabrina Carpenter’s current vibe as well as anything else on her massive breakthrough, Short n’ Sweet: It’s sexy, it’s cheeky, it’s a little bit silly, and she’s winking through it all. In a year when it seemed like the old-guard pop stars lost a step and we got a few new faces in their place, Sabrina emerged as something of a throwback with classic appeal, but also maybe better suited than any of her contemporaries for fame in 2024. (Compare the way she courts light controversy by, say, pantomiming fellatio with how Chappell Roan gets upset with Billboard for reporting on business news.) Perhaps it’s because A-list fame has been a slow burn for her. Perhaps it’s because she just simply gets it. Whatever the case, so long as it keeps songs like “Espresso” in rotation, we’re happy that she’s out here finding camaraderie.

Key tracks: “Espresso,” “Bad Chem,” “Please Please Please”

For the old heads: The best moment you’ll hear on a rap record this year comes midway through Mach-Hommy’s latest album, RICHAXXHAITIAN. “SUR LE PONT d'AVIGNON (Reparation #1)” is the kind of dusty, keyboard-and-trumpet-loop production you’ve probably been chasing since 1996. That Mach-Hommy proves he’s still your favorite rapper’s favorite rapper over it is only a bonus. It’s the standout on an album full of tracks that would qualify as one on anyone else’s release. It fits like a warm sweater—or, since we’re talking Mach-Hommy, a bandanna over the face.

Key tracks: “SUR LE PONT d'AVIGNON (Reparation #1),” “Lon Lon,” “Copy Cold”

First, Jamie xx’s sophomore solo LP was never going to be a retread of In Colour, the big-tent 2015 album that rode the wave of his xx fame, the tail end of the EDM boom, and the rise of Young Thug to massive success. Second, there’s a chance that even if this isn’t a better overall record, it’s a better dance record. Coming nine years after its predecessor, In Waves is propulsive and quirky, maybe smaller in spirit but bigger in the speakers. The songs range from the earwormy party starters—the Honey Dijon collab “Baddy on the Floor” and the Robyn-assisted “Life,” specifically—to the religious. (I’m especially fond of “Dafodil,” which gathers Kelsey Lu, John Glacier, and Panda Bear to flip an Astrud Gilberto classic into a moment of afterhours catharsis.) This isn’t for the people who put “VCR” on their makeout playlists or discovered “I Know There’s Gonna Be (Good Times)” through Euphoria. But In Waves will invite you onto the dance floor and invite you to treat each other right.

Key tracks: “Baddy on the Floor,” “All You Children,” “Dafodil”

Ridiculous to see a late-stage LL Cool J record on this list, right? But here’s the thing: It’s not only one of the best of the year—it’s the most interesting of his career. James Todd Smith has long evolved past the need for club records or songs for the ladies; he’s inching toward 60 and knows who he is. So on his first project in 11 years and reunion with Def Jam, we get an album’s worth of Q-Tip beats. We also get songs about Huey P. Newton and, uh, Christopher Dorner. (The journey LL took to arrive at the latter is worth reading up on.) The highlight here is “Black Code Suite,” a pro-Black anthem with a seductive bounce that name-checks Biz Markie and W.E.B. Du Bois. It’s best-case scenario for old-guy rap—an unexpected turn from rap’s first heartthrob that lets you know he had this in him all along.

Key tracks: “Black Code Suite,” “Spirit of Cyrus”

Maybe the best-produced rap record you’ll hear all year, Blue Lips finds ScHoolboy Q settling into the modes he’s always been destined for: elder cool guy and quietly innovative auteur. In the hands of a less adept artist, Blue Lips could’ve come off as too much—the modulated psych of intro “Funny Guy” clashing against the jazzy drum ’n’ bass of “Foux,” the L.A. street rap of “Movie” butting up against the many beat switches on “oHio.” It’s controlled chaos, packaged and sold through Q’s overwhelming charisma and pure rapping ability. It’s a career highlight and sign that even with Kendrick gone, TDE still has innovators on the roster.

Key tracks: “oHio,” “Foux,” “Yeern 101”

Raise your hands if you had Phil Elverum referencing Tim Robinson on your Old Hipster 2024 Bingo card. Night Palace is the lightest Mount Eerie album in a long time, which is maybe not saying much for the man behind A Crow Looked at Me—and maybe not saying much given that it clocks in at 26 tracks and 81 minutes. But still: It’s nice to hear Phil in his bag, waxing poetically about the PNW and kicking dirge-y riffs and finding a little bit of humor in all the gloom.

Key tracks: “Huge Fire,” “I Saw Another Bird,” “Non-Metaphorical Decolonization”

Beyoncé’s country (or country-adjacent) album arrived this spring, but the seeds for it may have been planted in 2016, when she performed the Lemonade track “Daddy Lessons” at the Country Music Awards. She was booed and called racist slurs that night—made to feel unwelcome in a space that should’ve tightly embraced Beyoncé, a Texas native with country bona fides. As the second act in Beyoncé’s ongoing project to reclaim historically Black genres, Cowboy Carter makes clear that even if country won’t roll out the rhinestone carpet for her, she’s not afraid to force her way through the door. Cowboy Carter is well-versed in the lore of the Opry, boasting appearances from Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson, but is also intent on shining a light on some of the Black artists the genre has frequently ignored. (The legendary Linda Martell shows up twice, while newer country originals like Brittney Spencer and Willie Jones make appearances.) The album is a bit uneven—the remake of “Jolene,” which flips the narrator’s posture from wounded to threatening, is a slight misstep, while the presence of persistent interloper Post Malone threatens to undermine the entire mission—but when Cowboy Carter takes flight, as it does on lead single “Texas Hold ’Em,” it makes you wonder why the genre wouldn’t want Mrs. Knowles-Carter as an ambassador. Cowboy Carter is at its best when Beyoncé bends country music to her will and fuses it with something fresh—like on “II Hand II Heaven” or “Sweet Honey Buckiin,” which bring Nashville into the Jersey club. It’s telling, however, that the latter song features Shaboozey, the breakout country artist of 2024. His J-Kwon homage “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” is the biggest crossover country song the genre has seen in years. It helped earn him two nominations at this year’s CMAs. He won zero. He is, of course, Black. From Shaboozey to Lil Nas X to the infusion of trap music production, the genre has come a long way since that night Beyoncé performed at the CMAs in 2016. But it still has a long way to go.

Key tracks:  “Sweet Honey Buckiin,” “Texas Hold ’Em,” “Spaghettii”

Lest you think Saint Cloud and her Jess Williamson collaborations were simply detours, Tigers Blood shows that Katie Crutchfield’s country transition is for real. Here, she enlists musicians including MJ Lenderman, Brad Cook, and Spencer Tweedy (that’s Jeff Tweedy’s son, for those keeping score) to round out the musical palette, which can only be described as banjo-forward. It’s half a world away from the indie rock aesthetic that defined her early records—to say nothing of the punk she grew up on with her sister Allison—but it fits her Alabama twang perfectly. We should all be so lucky to find a second life that fits us as well as our first. 

Key tracks: “Right Back to It,” “Bored,” “3 Sisters”

Dana Margolin has long weaponized her pain, turning heartbreak and longing into a serrated knife ready to cut through flesh. The moment I always return to is the end of “Born Confused,” the opening song on Porridge Radio’s 2020 breakout, Every Bad: Dana shouting, “Thank you for leaving me / thank you for making me happy,” until it sounds like her throat is bleeding. You don’t know whether she’s lying to the other person or herself, or whether she’s genuinely happy in her pain, or whether the fact they’ve left has made her happy. But either way, you know you don’t want any part of it. It’s a vicious mode that belies Porridge Radio’s charmingly British name, but it’s a well that Dana and her band have returned to often. On the best moment on Clouds in the Sky They Will Always Be There for Me—a more subdued experience than 2022’s synth-driven Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder to the Sky—the heartbreak becomes an instrument of war. “God of Everything Else” starts out with the typical post-breakup soul-searching—“Been trying to forgive myself for wishing I was somebody else,” Margolin opens—before the singer roars to life. “I'm the God of everything else, you're the God of losing me,” Margolin belts. “Don't need to know where you are, you'll be hit by a wave of me.” Love hurts, but in the hands of Margolin, it’s a double-edged blade where no one is safe.

Key tracks: “God of Everything Else,” “A Hole in the Ground,” “Sick of the Blues”

The former gets the attention for containing the Kendrick-Drake beef’s Archduke Ferdinand moment, but the second record in this year’s rap blockbuster series is the one you should zero in on. Released while the barrel of “Like That” was still smoking, We Still Don’t Trust You features Nayvadius Wilburn’s best R&B performance since 2017’s HNDRXX. (Coincidentally, also the second—and better—half of a two-parter.) While Future could’ve been accused of spinning his wheels in recent years, he sounds reinvigorated here—reveling in the glorious toxicity like it’s 2015 again. But if singing Future isn’t your speed, skip to the second disc of We Still Don’t Trust You, an EP’s worth of his most sinister rapping in years. A few months later, Future would drop Mixtape Pluto as a nod to his legendary run from a decade ago. It was welcome, but superfluous—we got it all here, in one tidy package.

Key tracks: “Came to the Party,” “Like That,” “Where My Twin @,” “We Still Don’t Trust You,” “Luv Bad Bitches”

“I’ve reached the summit to get as close to the edge,” Touché Amoré frontman Jeremy Bolm begins on “Altitude.” He may as well be talking about his singing style. For nearly two decades as Touché’s leader, Bolm has been pushing his vocals to their absolute breaking point to reach catharsis. The result has been some of the best hardcore albums—melodic hardcore, post-hardcore, whatever descriptor you want to use—of the 21st century. This year’s Spiral in a Straight Line is no different. Equal parts pretty and pulverizing, Spiral easily alternates between the turbo-speed onslaught of songs like “Mezzanine” and “Finalist” and the gorgeous sprawl of others like “Force of Habit.” Along the way, Bolm shows off some of his strongest pop instincts on songs like “Hal Ashby,” named for the great director, and invites in friends like Julien Baker of boygenius fame and the legendary Lou Barlow to guest. But Spiral is at its best when it’s just Jeremy’s voice, climbing and climbing until there’s no summit it can’t reach.

Key tracks: “Hal Ashby,” “Disasters,” “Altitude”

The great Brooklyn rapper—one of the genre’s true originals and greatest stylistic innovators—died in October. He was just 52 years old, but you’d be forgiven for assuming he had lived through centuries. Never mind his subject matter, which drew from the story of Cain and Abel and feudal Japanese code for inspiration. You could get that impression simply from listening to his voice. Gravely and sagelike, he rapped like he was imparting hard-won wisdom upon the listener. Without knowing another detail about him—say, his elder statesman status in the New York underground scene or his day job as an NYC firefighter—his delivery was enough to make you understand that when he spoke, you should listen. It’s fitting, then, that the final album he released in his lifetime finds him taking on false prophets. The Thief Next to Jesus is a stunning 14-track deconstruction of the relationship between Black Americans and the Christian church. (Spoiler: It’s fraught.) Backed by gospel samples, the album is an exploration into needs, wants, desires, and dreams—and, importantly, how the church exploits them for power and money. And Ka proves himself a worthy preacher in his own right. But the strongest moments come when he speaks in the first person. “I plan my death before I plan submission,” he raps on “Borrowed Time.” It’s a creed Ka lived by, and one that more of us could stand to.

Key tracks: “Bread Wine Body Blood,” “Borrowed Time,” “Broken Rose Window”

The opening title track of Fontaines D.C.’s fourth album, Romance, is a bit of a bait-and-switch. It’s a slow, crawling, dark post-punk number that wouldn’t have been out of place on any of their previous records. However, the band quickly announces it won’t be that kind of party. Immediately after “Romance” cuts out, in comes the titanic single “Starburster,” a Britpop-meets-hip-hop song that signals a new, defiant direction for the Irish band. From there, we’re off to something brighter, bigger, and janglier. It’s not an accident, either: The producer behind this record is James Ford, a frequent collaborator of the Gorillaz and Arctic Monkeys. The more you internalize that info, the more Fontaines D.C.’s stadium ambitions come into focus. The results are their best record yet—the rare complete midcareer makeover that actually feels authentic. Perhaps there’s no greater sign that it worked than the band catching the ire of Liam Gallagher. “Fuck them little spunkbubbles,” he wrote before comparing their new wardrobe to EMF. Judge them by their enemies as much as anything else.

Key tracks: “Starburster,” “Favourite”

Around these parts, we’ve taken to calling Wednesday guitarist turned indie bro savior MJ Lenderman “Jason Molina with an Athletic subscription.” But on Manning Fireworks, his big breakout fourth solo record, Lenderman tones down the sports references. (For shame, with all the potential Arch Manning tie-ins.) In their place, he dials up the drinkin’ a cold one on the patio factor to 11. Fireworks isn’t necessarily better than its predecessor Boat Songs, but it is bigger in the places that matter. “Joker Lips” and “Rudolph” are hookier, more accessible versions of the alt Southern rock Lenderman has made the bedrock of his sound for years, while “Wristwatch” caught on enough to spark a minor meme. (What the fuck is the Himbo Dome, anyway?!) The showstopper, however, is “She’s Leaving You,” a jangly power pop ode to the middle-aged divorcé. “It falls apart / We all got work to do,” he wails during the explosive chorus. And sure, it does, and we do, but as long as this is the soundtrack, we’re gonna be OK.

Key tracks: “She’s Leaving You,” “Wristwatch”

It’s a testament to how far Tyler’s come that the release of his most revelatory album to date barely registers as news. The story line has been beaten to a donut-shaped pulp, but the growth of the one-time edgelord Odd Future ringleader into one of rap’s vanguard artists remains one of music’s great public transformations. But while his past three records all seemed like capital-R Revelations, Chromakopia feels a touch smaller in that regard. On a surface-level reading, you could accuse it of being the first Tyler record that doesn’t break much new ground, but that belies the fact that the sea changes are coming from within. The subject matter is headier than ever: Has fame ruined his chance at a normal life? Will he end up like his estranged father? Will he ever be able to start a family? Tyler doesn’t necessarily have the answers, but as always, he’s searching.

Key tracks: “Noid,” “Sticky,” “Take Your Mask Off”

The song is called “Boom Bap,” but it’s not an homage to a bygone era. “Boom-bap, rap, rap, rappity-rap-rap,” Doechii starts over a piano loop. “Rappity-rap [fart noise] boom-bap-bap-bap-bap.” Silly, of course, but it’s also a snapshot of an artist at some kind of crossroad. The Tampa-born rapper blew up off a TikTok hit and had her biggest success with the R&B single “What It Is,” but she is signed to TDE, after all, and that’s just about the most rappity-rap mainstream label around. On her third mixtape, Alligator Bites Never Heal, she tries to split the difference. What we get is a front half loaded with, well, boom-bap tracks like “Bullfrog” and “Catfish” and a run in the second part of the tape that includes crossover hit fodder like “Slide” and “Nissan Altima.” (The latter of which not so coincidentally comes right after “Boom Bap.”) And over the 19 tracks and 42 minutes of Alligator Bites, it becomes clear that this is an artist who doesn’t need to pick a lane—she can do whatever the hell she pleases.

Key tracks: “Denial Is a River,” “Catfish,” “Nissan Altima”

Mixing Laurel Canyon folk with psychedelic bossa nova, Here in the Pitch may be the most dreamlike of all Jessica Pratt’s dreamy records. At times, it evokes a bedroom Phil Spector production—tiny songs filled out with massive reverb, backed by soft strings and shuffling drums. Opener “Life Is” in particular is addictive, like lounge music from a long-ago past that never quite existed. 

Key tracks: “Get Your Head Out,” “Life Is”

A turbo-charged victory lap? Sure. A Drake record in disguise? Maybe. But GNX is undoubtedly Kendrick’s loosest record since at least Section.80. Unlike Damn. or Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers or any of Kendrick’s post-breakout albums, there’s no overarching concept here. Or perhaps the concept is just simpler: his unimpeachable greatness. It’s the kind of record that could be made only after scoring an undisputed victory in the most publicized music feud ever. Check the way he takes on one of his former heroes, Lil Wayne, on “wacced out murals,” or the way he evokes other canonized artists throughout the record’s running time. (He quotes “Kick in the Door” like he’s circa 2000 Jay-Z and openly remakes Nas classics and Tupac deep cuts, bending them to fit his needs. There’s also the clear influence he’s drawn from the late, great Drakeo the Ruler, but we’ll let our friends over at POW break down the importance and contradictions of that.) GNX is not one of Kendrick’s best—and perhaps the inclusion of “The Heart Pt. 6” signals that it’s just an appetizer for something bigger, perhaps around Super Bowl time—but it is something that only he could’ve made at this point in his career. He’s in command of his craft and his legacy, and he sounds more free than ever. Whether it’s a detour to celebrate his big win or a sign of a greater shift remains to be seen. Either way, he’s ready to squabble up.

Key tracks: “TV Off,” “Hey Now,” “Squabble Up”

On the one hand, it’s almost become a cliché to say that Michael Gordon could’ve become a full-fledged star in a different era or with different production aesthetics. But on the other, listen to the songs he makes as Mk.gee—the way “I Want” recalls the Police by way of Arthur Russell, or the demo-version Prince vibes of “DNM.” There’s a reason Gordon’s written with the Kid Laroi and appeared on Saturday Night Live. These are big-ticket pop songs disguised with studio static and disembodied vocals. To hear him tell it, this ethos is practically part of his DNA—a quirk of accidentally consuming most of his music at lo-fi bit rates as a child. But it works for him. A cleaned-up version of “Alesis” may have found its way to radio, but it would’ve lost something in translation. And in a way-too-digital age, perhaps Gordon’s the kind of star we need.

Key tracks: “Alesis,” “DNM,” “Are You Looking Up”

“No one tell Cher about my other songs,” Josh Tillman tweeted after the former discovered Tillman’s breakout loosie hit “Real Love Baby.” But who knows? Maybe she would vibe with the macrodosed fever dream of “Writing a Novel” or the pedantic grammar lessons of “The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apartment.” In fact, my money is on Ms. Sarkisian enjoying Mahashmashana, Tillman’s sixth album under the Father John Misty moniker and his best since I Love You Honeybear. For FJM devotees, it’s clear that the successes of “Real Love Baby” or last year’s Lana Del Rey collaboration haven’t changed him. He still comes off like a cross between Warren Zevon and the smartest dipshit you’ll meet at Little Joy; he’s still name-checking things like Astral Weeks and talking about taking copious amounts of psychedelics. But he sounds renewed on Mahashmashana. “She Cleans Up” may be his most straightforward rocker since I can’t recall when, while the title track and “Screamland” are epic—the strings!—in a way that feels indebted to his heroes without ever feeling derivative. But what always gets me is the small biographical details that emerge from any great FJM song, like when he sings that he was told he was the least famous person to “turn down the cover of the Rolling Stone.” It’s a sign that he’s a different kind of star than Cher’s generation produced but one that she could undoubtedly respect, even if she encountered the full breadth of his discography. 

Key tracks: “I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All,” “Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose,” “She Cleans Up”

Clocking in at 32 tracks and about two hours, Diamond Jubilee is among the least accessible great records you’ll come across this year. And that’s even before accounting for the distribution model—the album was available only on YouTube (with no track breaks!) and through Geocities for months. (It’s now available on Bandcamp, but crucially not on DSPs like Spotify, The Ringer’s parent company.) But while the barrier for entry is high, the experience is singular. The seventh studio album of this project from former Women frontman Patrick Flegel—who performs in drag under the Cindy Lee moniker—Diamond Jubilee plays like a long-lost psych soul record, or maybe a compilation of private press 45s dug up from the basement of a haunted house. Come for the intrigue, stay for the modulated vocals and jangly licks that sound like they’re being broadcast over the AM airwaves. But once Diamond Jubilee hooks you, you will stay.

Key tracks: “Stone Faces,” “Dracula,” “If You Hear Me Crying”

Sixteen years after their previous album, Robert Smith and Co. return with a towering record that isn’t just a good late-career record—it’s one of their best, full stop. Slow, plaintive, and sprawling, the eight tracks on Songs of a Lost World sometimes recall the industrial pulse of Pornography, or sometimes the gorgeous melancholy of Disintegration. (“Plainsong” particularly seems to be a North Star for Lost World highlights like “Alone” and “Endsong.”) Also: It’s sneakily a great Simon Gallup record, as it features some of the bassist’s strongest work since the band’s apex. It’s impossible to tell whether this is intended as the Cure’s swan song—Smith is 65 years old, so considering the gap between this record and its predecessor, it very well could be—but it is the product of a band focused on its own mortality. Still, amid the melancholy, Smith finds aching moments of hope, as he always does: As he sings on “And Nothing Is Forever,” “I know that my world has grown old / But it really doesn’t matter / If you say we’ll be together.” It’s classic stuff from a classic band.

Key tracks: “Endsong,” “Alone,” “And Nothing Is Forever”

If you’ve experienced Mannequin Pussy live, you know that no one else can oscillate between singing and shrieking—whispering and screaming—quite like powder keg frontwoman Marisa Dabice. That’s also the proposition of I Got Heaven, the fourth and best record of the Philadelphia band’s career. A straight-up punk band early in their career, Mannequin Pussy has been growing into bigger and brighter songwriting for years. (2019’s “Drunk 2” especially got a lot of play over at Ringer HQ.) But on I Got Heaven, they find a way to mix plainly gorgeous melodies with basement-stage punk to stunning results. Standouts include the title track and the wounded lullaby of “I Don’t Know You,” but it all coalesces with “Loud Bark,” a song that seduces you with an addictive riff and Missy’s sweet voice before exploding into something that, well, bites you. 

Key tracks: “Loud Bark,” “I Got Heaven,” “I Don’t Know You,” “Sometimes”

With all due respect, what else could it be? Before the memes and the Kamala campaign made Brat something of a cursed object, before the remix album answered the question of “What if Julian Casablancas sang a Yes song?,” there was just a lime-green album filled with 15 of the best tracks of 2024. But what separated Brat from the rest of Charli’s career? Why is this the one that finally made her a full-on pop phenom instead of just a very popular cult fascination? It’s partly the production, which remains accessible but doesn’t scream POP the way her last record, Crash, did. But mostly, it’s the confessional approach Charli took to these songs. Rarely is an album this big this openly confessional. The vulnerability of “Girl, So Confusing” (which led to an all-too-important remix with Lorde), the quickly aging existential questioning of “I Think About It All the Time,” the coke-caked non sequiturs—it all gave Brat a level of fascination that’s missing from most blockbuster releases. (Enough so that we can even forgive the Dasha song.) Given the attention and acclaim Brat received, it’s hard for me to envision what Charli will do for a follow-up. (Would a Round 2 with the same approach feel inauthentic? Are there even more remixes and repackages to milk from this thing?) But for now, it’s best to just enjoy the club classics in front of us. Chances are, we’ll be hearing them for a while.

Key tracks: “360,” “Girl, So Confusing,” “I Think About It All the Time”