Top 10 of 2020

These records may or may not be "the best," art is not sports, I no longer have to review 250 new records a year (though I listen to at least that much), and so much of my listening this year was coloured by the state of the world. Make of all that what you will. This glorious music made 2020 somewhat bearable for me, hopefully for you as well: music of joy, pain, therapy, escape and beauty. Dancing, not so much. 

If this is all TL;DR, here's a 38-song playlist of single tracks from my top 40 albums (two are Bandcamp exclusives)


1 Perfume Genius – Set My Heart on Fire Immediately (Matador). "Half of my whole life is gone" is the opening line here. It's not a lament. Not a regret. Mid-life crisis? No. Instead, it's a time of forgiveness—of the self, more than anything—and for moving toward a time when "shadows soften toward some tender light." Not that Perfume Genius's Mike Hadreas is a shiny, happy person peddling you some self-healing. This album, like all his work, mines a lot of pain, mixed with a romanticism and eroticism that's all the more powerful when it's clear how important—and difficult—it is for a lot of people to transcend mountains of negativity to achieve those idealized states. 

All of that is evident only if you listen to his lyrics—which you obviously should—but his skill as a songwriter is that it also doesn't really matter. If you listen to the incredibly sensual "Jason" and all you hear is a seductive tale, that's fine; read closer and only then will you realize it's about a one-night stand with a straight man who leaves his boots on, and sneaking a $20 bill out of his wallet after he tells you to leave. Or how a seemingly simple pop song about longing with the chorus "It's been such a long, long time without you" is actually about body dysmorphia. Does it matter? They're both perfect pop songs with or without the lyrics. The melody, the vocal performance, the production, the players all offer plenty to distract you, if distraction is what you're after. And sometimes a hot and horny song of pent-up sexual release like "Nothing At All" is simply exactly that.  

There are pop records I loved this year, experimental records I loved, sad music I loved, joyous music I loved. This is my No. 1 pick because it's all of those things. There are songs here that can easily appeal to anyone who loves Roy Orbison as much as Hadreas does. And there are songs here for people who love the "difficult" deep cuts on Peter Gabriel and Bjork albums. There's one song here, "Leave," that features what sounds like a pack of coyotes duetting with a gorgeous string arrangement. Several songs are incredibly sparse and haunting. There are five rousing anthems that should be played as loud as possible, at least one of which could be capable of creating the cinematic synergy that happened when his 2017 song "Slip Away" was used in Booksmart, in a scene that had me weeping with joy in the theatre last year.

Producer Blake Mills (Alabama Shakes, Fiona Apple, John Legend), who also helmed 2017's No Shape, deserves a lot of credit for how this record sounds, and his bass playing on "Jason" and "Just a Touch" manages to outshine even studio vet Pino Palladino, who plays on most of the rest of the album. Speaking of studio vets, heavyweight drummers Jim Keltner and Matt Chamberlain are also all over this, tasteful as ever. But it's what Mills does with Hadreas's longtime partner Alan Wyffels with the otherworldly synth textures here that provide each song with its own unique world to frame Hadreas's gorgeous melodies. 

Hadreas breaks down each song for this feature in Pitchfork, and for these liner notes on Apple Music.

2 Shabaka and the Ancestors – We Are Sent Here By History (Impulse). Shabaka Hutchings has become a jazz crossover sensation through his work in Sons of Kemet and the Comet is Coming, both of which are thrilling, visceral and ecstatic; it's not hard to understand their appeal to non-jazz audiences. This more traditional group, with South African musicians, is more laid back. Though Hutchings's melodic style is unmistakable, this music is driven largely by upright bassist Ariel Zamonsky's Mingus-y lines, while drummer Tumi Mogorosi and percussionist Gontse Makhene lay down some Afro-Caribbean grooves underneath him. The poet Siyabonga Mthembu's gospel-esque Zulu vocals bring a lot to the table, but are never the focal point. He does, however, provide the the context for an album inspired by Extinction Rebellion and other crisis points: the songs were composed based on his titles, which include "They Who Must Die," "Run, the Darkness Will Pass," and "Beasts Too Spoke of Suffering." "We are here because history called," he sings. Hutchings says the music is "a reflection from the ruins ... Music is the seed from which new worlds must grow." In a year when it became more important than ever to reimagine a "new normal," this was a spiritual salve. 

Great New York Times profile here, and one in the Guardian here. 

3 Agnes Obel – Myopia (Deutsche Grammophon). Piano, cello, voice, and absolutely haunting minor-key melodies steeped in melancholy: perfect for lonely, uncertain times. Every song is a miniature sonic film, and titles like "Broken Sleep," "Island of Doom" and "Won't You Call Me" reinforce the mood. What makes it even better, however, is this Berlin-based-Belgian's approach to production: all the instruments are often pitched higher or lower, including her voice—like Fever Ray, she likes to harmonize with a "male" version of herself in a lower register. If that wasn't otherworldly enough, the drum sounds and overall use of reverb make this seem like it was made at the bottom of a frozen lake in the German Alps. Which seems like a nice enough spot to get myopic and shelter in place. I listened to this daily, almost obsessively, at the beginning of the lockdown. It's lost none of its magic and mystery since. The one concert ticket I had pinned to my wall when the pandemic hit was to see her open for—wait for it—Dead Can Dance. 

4 Junia T – Studio Monk (Pirates Blend)

Wrote about this here and here.

This album should be to the next generation of Toronto what Broken Social Scene’s You Forgot It In People was to indie rock in the early 2000s. Junia T steps to the forefront after being Jessie Reyez’s tour DJ for the last few years to craft this masterful collection of grooves built from the bottom up with live musicians and invite an array of mostly Toronto talent to shine in his stead. It functions not so much as a solo record but as a mixtape with all-stars like Reyez, Sean Leon, and River Tiber, but relatively unknown singers Storry and Faiza, as well as highly underrated Toronto vet Adam Bomb. Sometimes this much talent on one record means a lot of compromise and mush, but every single artist here brings their A-game. (Well, maybe not Nate Husser.) Jessie Reyez is the only big name here, but every guest here shows off big personalities while never overshadowing the brilliance of Junia T’s arrangements, which draw from vintage funk, neosoul, reggae, triphop, Brazilian beats and jazz. The beats are killer; the bass lines even better. The singers are all pitch perfect. Slakah the Beatchild is behind the boards, ensuring a rich, warm, vintage sound. This album was two years in the making, and it shows: there is a deep attention to detail and mood on every track. 

An in-depth short doc about the artist:

5 Melt Yourself Down – 100% Yes (Universal). One of my all-time favourite jams is Pigbag's "Papa's Got a Brand New Pigbag" (a.k.a. the theme from CITY-TV's The New Music), and so to discover a current London band mining a similar vibe is nothing short of glorious. But nothing else sounds like this, and if it does I need to find it: Killer grooves, heavy percussion (timbales, congas, darbuka), a raunchy two-saxophone attack (bari and tenor) run through distortion, and a compelling singer howling in Mauritian, English and made-up languages. There's no doubt this is a party band, but so were the Specials and Mano Negra and Asian Dub Foundation, and, like those bands, the lyrics here are rich with reactions to racism and recent British history (i.e. the indifference to the Grenfell highrise tragedy). There's been an explosion of creativity in British jazz lately, and it should be noted that this band—which is not jazz—dates back to 2014, after which two founding members left to form Sons of Kemet, among other projects (including Shabaka and the Ancestors; see above). Between that association and a jump to a major label, this band should be much better known than they are. This is perhaps the one 2020 record I regret most not being able to see live (this is kind of fun but doesn't really cut it); that said, it's a hot, sweaty mess even just coming out the headphones.

6 Pantayo – s/t (Telephone Explosion)

Wrote about this here and here.

It’s safe to say that few people, if anyone, in North America has heard a band like this, which combines traditional Filipino percussion (kulintang) with modern R&B and pop. Producer Alaska B (Yamantaka//Sonic Titan) ensures everything sounds rich, thick and totally pro: deep Solange-ish grooves over which the Moondog-ish metallophones and other kulintang percussion sparkle with life. If this were just a novel and evocative instrumental record, it would already succeed, but these women are also great singers: check out the sultry soul ballad “Desire,” which absolutely could and should be a pop hit. The brooding pulse of “V V V” is a 2020 anthem (“They lie / they will never tell the truth”). “Heto Na” and “Taranta” have some serious ESG vibes, while obviously sounding nothing like them. I was thrilled when they made the Polaris shortlist, because this deserves to be heard around the world.

  

7 Kathleen Edwards – Total Freedom (Dualtone). Edwards is a master of economy: lean but lovely arrangements, great players, and 10 songs so good that her long hiatus has been entirely justified. But bring hankies—especially if you're forty-ish or over and living with a bunch of regret. For those rare moments when you're not, "Glenfern" might just be the greatest song ever written with affection for an ex, remembering the good times with gratitude and moving past the hurt. (After years of armchair trainspotters wondering who Edwards's songs were about, that one is quite explicitly about ex-husband Colin Cripps.) And though I'm not well versed on the canon of canine songs, I'd hazard a guess that "Who Rescued Who" is also near the top of that niche. As always, there's an ace band behind her: longtime friends and collaborators Jim Bryson (keys, guitar), guitarist Gord Tough (also heard on Sarah Harmer's record), drummer Peter Von Althen and bassist Darcy Yates. Extra points for the driving kosmische Canadiana of "Hard on Everyone." I have to admit that I took this record for granted: on many levels, it sounds like Another Kathleen Edwards Album—an extension of 2012's fantastic Voyageur and entirely predictable, for better or worse. But as the weight of the songs began to sink in, it was not only a reminder of what a great writer she is, but that she keeps getting better: the character portraits, the tiny lyrical details, the turns of phrase, the earworms. Take your time, Ms. Edwards. You've more than earned it. 

  

8 Witch Prophet – DNA Activation (independent)

Wrote about this here and here.

“Bow down to queen,” demands Ayo Leilani on her second album as Witch Prophet. As we should: DNA Activation is a completely captivating, entrancing journey through trippy soul with an Eritrean Erykah Badu bent. Jazzy vibes, deep grooves and synesthesiac textures abound, creating a sonic splendour in which it’s easy to get lost. Leilani’s vocals aren’t a focus as much as they are a centring guide, a soothing presence asking, “Where do we go from here, when the whole world is falling?” Karen Ng’s saxophone plays a key role on three of the 10 tracks, indebted to Ethio jazz. “Makda” comes off like a trippier Dan the Automator. Everything about DNA Activation is a huge step up from her promising debut; its only real drawback is that it’s incredibly brief: 10 songs in 24 minutes. This is hypnotic, healing music for humid days, during days when these lyrics strike deep: “Where do we go from here / When the whole world is falling / Through darkness / And we cannot see the light.” The woman known as Witch Prophet brings that light.  

9 Frazey Ford – U Kin B the Sun (Arts and Crafts)

Wrote about it here and here.

Words will always fail to describe Frazey Ford’s voice, probably because she fails to enunciate most of her words in the first place. Such is the magic and mystery that this soulful singer brings to everything she does, whether it was the folk revivalism of the Be Good Tanyas 20 years ago (!) or the soul music she immerses herself in here. This is not exactly retro R&B, but it is a solid live band with a Hammond organ (or imitation) hovering over the bass-heavy grooves and gospel-tinged backing vocals. She’s a devoted D’Angelo fan, and her last record used the same band Cat Power did on The Greatest; Ford brings her own hippie B.C. vibe to the genre. She’s not in this game to win; she can take or leave the music business, as she’s proved over the years while moving at her own pace. The music she makes is for healing, for uplift, for the spirit. Which is all well and good and inspiring, but the songs she brings to the table this time, and the players she gathered to perform it, that elevate this far beyond mere good intentions. The Aretha Franklin of the Kootenays?

10 U.S. Girls – Heavy Light (4AD / Royal Mountain)

Wrote about this here and here.

This was recorded by humans in a room together at the same time. Crazy, right? Meg Remy and her circle are politically progressive but have decidedly old-school beliefs when it comes to musical chops: you should be able to play, you should be able to play well with other people, and no amount of multitracking can substitute for the sound of amazing singers surrounding a microphone in real time. 

Heavy Light aims to be a What’s Going On of this generation: lyrics that address personal and systemic pain, enveloped in melodies, grooves and arrangements that seek to soothe rather than confront. “You gotta have boots, if you wanna lift those bootstraps,” goes the opening track, addressing historic economic inequality in the guise of a sweet soul song. “Overtime” is a first-person song about a widow discovering that her overworked husband drank their savings away. “Born to Lose” could be a Sarah Kendzior or Barbara Ehrenreich book about American decline in a torch-y song with a choral chorus, set to ’50s lounge exotica. A Latin excursion on “And Yet It Moves / Y Se Mueve” works surprisingly well—or, not so surprising at all, considering the calibre of musicians involved. The entire record is lush and expansive, and yet always in subtle ways; this is not a record that wants to show off, it wants to draw you in.

Remy has a lot of top-shelf help here: Basia Bulat, Arcade Fire’s Tim Kingsbury, partner Slim Twig, the band Ice Cream, future superstar James Baley, the E Street Band’s Jake Clemons, the underrated Geordie Gordon and Michael Rault, engineer Howard Bilerman, and vocal arranger Kitty Uranowski. It’d be hard to make a bad record with those people in the room. But with Remy at the helm, the result is an instant classic.

Everything about this exudes empathy and community, which is exactly what we need right now.

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RECAP!

11-20:

11 Nihiloxica – Kawali
12 Lido Pimienta – Miss Colombia 

13 Marlaena Moore – Pay Attention, Be Amazed! 

14 The Dears – Lovers Rock
15 Wye Oak – Horizon EP
16 Deerhoof – Love Lore

17 Fiona Apple – Fetch the Bolt Cutters

18 Nels Cline – Share the Wealth 

19 Sault – (untitled) Rise

20 C. Diab – White Whale

Blurbs for those are here. 
Playlist for all top 20 albums is here. Shuffle it up: 

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21-40, in alphabetical order:

79ers Gang – Expect the Unexpected

Allie X – Cape God 

Julianna Barwick – Healing is a Miracle 

Bloto – Kwiatostan 

Budos Band – Long in the Tooth 

Caribou – Suddenly 

Jennifer Castle – Monarch Season 

Brandy Clark – Your Life is a Record 

Alabaster DePlume – To Cy & Lee: Instrumentals Vol. 1

Sarah Harmer – Are You Gone 

 

Blurbs for the above 10 are here

Blurbs for the below 10 are here 

Quin Kirchner – The Shadows and the Light
Mourning (a) BLKStar – The Cycle 

Owen Pallett – Island
Prince Nifty – We're Not in Kansas Anymore
Slow Leaves – Shelf Life 

Julian Taylor – The Ridge 

Throat Funeral – OU812212
Etuk Ubong – Africa Today
Wolf Parade – Thin Mind
Donovan Woods – Without People

 

Playlist for these 20 full albums is here. Shuffle it up: 

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10 more of interest: 

Destroyer – Have We Met 

DijahSB – 2020 The Album
Dana Gavanski – Yesterday Is Gone

Magnetic Fields – Quickies 

Jon McKiel – Bobby Joe Hope
Terrell Morris – Lavender 

Sneaks – Happy Birthday 

Charles Spearin and Josefin Rusteen – Thank God the Plague is Over
Tricky – Fall to Pieces
William Tyler – New Vanitas

Blurbs for those are here.

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Honourable mention, about which I can't possibly be objective:

Gord Downie – Away is Mine. Wrote about it for Maclean's here. 

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My favourite singles and non-album tracks by artists not in the top 40: Magnetic Fields, Anderson Paak, Terrell Morris, Regina Gently, Destroyer, Sufjan Stevens, Will Butler, Buddy & Julie Miller, Serena Ryder, The Weather Station, Guiding Light, Eric Bachmann, The Ropes, Karen O & Willie Nelson, Beverly Glenn-Copeland

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Reissue:
Beverly Glenn-Copeland – Transmissions
Runners-up:
Prince – Sign O the Times
Pylon – Box

Blurbs for those are here. 

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2019 albums I was late to in 2020:
Bon Enfant – s/t

Kaytranada – Bubba 

Little Scream – Speed Queen

Little Simz – Grey Area 

Lankum – The Livelong Day

Lightning Dust – Spectre 

Mdou Moctar – Ilana: The Creator

Junius Paul – Ism 

Wilco – Ode to Joy

Yola – Walk Through Fire

Blurbs for those are here.

Playlist for those is here:

November '16 reviews

Highly recommended this month: A Tribe Called Quest, Hidden Cameras, Lizzo

Well worth your while: Cosmic Range, Alicia Keys, Agnes Obel

As always, these reviews ran in the Waterloo Record.

Streaming is great for sample purposes, but please find a way to directly support your favourite artists financially.

A Tribe Called Quest – We Got It From Here … Thank You 4 Your Service (Sony)

A Tribe Called Quest have been teasing out promises of new music since they split up almost two decades ago. Throughout the 2000s, there were a series of reunion shows, and little new music from any of the three principals; even bandleader Q-Tip only released three albums in those 18 years.

Almost exactly a year ago, on a night that turned out to be the most horrific in music history with an attack on a Paris nightclub, Tribe performed on the Tonight Show to promote a reissue of their 1990 debut. For whatever reason—perhaps because rapper Phife Dawg’s diabetes was taking what would soon be a fatal toll—they decided to finally re-enter the studio. Phife would be dead four months later. This album came out days after the election of Donald Trump.

One of the first things you hear is sampled voice imploring, “It’s coming down hard: we got to get our s--t together!” One of the strongest tracks—indeed, one of the best singles of the year—is “We the People,” a screed against the polarized politics of the election year, particularly, and explicitly, the xenophobia that propelled a whitelash all the way to the presidency.

For all those reasons and more, this is not the happy-go-lucky Tribe of past glories. “F--k you and who you think I should be,” raps Phife; he’s addressing the power structure, not the listener, but the sentiment might as well apply to anyone expecting a nostalgia party or some kind of balm to relieve modern-day anxiety.

Musically, it’s a perfect update of their vintage sound: nothing here is a throwback, but nor do they try to fit into the latest fashions. It’s everything a comeback should be. There’s a heavy Caribbean influence throughout, including some straight-up reggae tracks. The slight touches of jazz are still there. The programming is decidedly modern. Jack White is one of the guests, alongside Busta Rhymes, Kendrick Lamar, Anderson.Paak, Talib Kweli and Andre 3000. In an entirely unexpected bit of stunt casting, Elton John shows up to sing the outro on a track that samples “Bennie and the Jets.” MC Consequence is practically a fourth member. Both Tip and Phife sound entirely on top of their game, the potency of their collective flow hasn’t diminished in the slightest. It’s telling that the only younger MCs to even be invited to this party are Lamar and Paak; few others of the next generation could attempt to hold a candle to these old-school masters.

This victory lap is bittersweet, of course. It’s quite consciously a farewell celebration to Phife Dawg. “Lost Somebody” is where Tip and Jarobi get downright mushy, and closing track “The Donald” (still trying to parse that title) is one big shout-out to the man they knew as the “five-foot assassin,” “the Trini-gladiator,” “the funky diabetic.”

A Tribe Called Quest is back. A Tribe Called Quest is finished. Thank You 4 Your Service. (Nov. 17)

Stream: “We the People,” “The Space Program,” “Black Spasmodic”

Cosmic Range – New Latitudes (Idée Fixe)

This was my most pleasant surprise of the Hillside Festival this past summer. Taking the stage were musicians I recognized from Bruce Peninsula, Diana, Slim Twig, Jennifer Castle’s band, and—wait, was that the original sax player from Martha and the Muffins? Why, yes it was.

Some semi-legendary starship cowboy Matthew “Doc” Dunn is the ringleader of this motely crew, who sound like Yo La Tengo covering Miles Davis’s Bitches Brew: a droning, wigged-out psychedelic trip driven by distorted organ and plenty of percussion. There are more delicate diversions as well, which bookend the album: the lovely ambience of “Morning, Ontario,” and the less enthralling eight-minute new-age piano of “Look at What Our Love Has Done.” In between, however, the grooves are heavy and haunting, the cacophony carefully conducted.

Bands like this are often a lot of fun on stage and a holy terror in the recording studio: one of the many wonders of New Latitudes is that it sounds fantastic—mixing engineer Jeff McMurrich is the real star of this project. (Nov. 10)

Stream: “Morning, Ontario,” “Love II,” “Kowboy”

Lori Cullen – Sexsmith Swinghammer Songs (True North)

Fans of Ron Sexsmith and Kurt Swinghammer, his long-time friend and frequent guitarist—the two once covered each other’s songs in a project called Sexhammer—will know that they share a love of the songwriting master of Burt Bacharach and the bossa nova pioneer Antônio Carlos Jobim. Sexsmith is also a big fan of Swinghammer’s wife, Lori Cullen, who has six previous albums to her name. Ergo, Sexhammer reunited to write a full album for Cullen, one that’s a full-on tribute to the breezy, sophisticated pop of their heroes. The instrumentation is perfect: plenty of nylon guitar, trombones, Rhodes piano, the most featherweight percussion, and the occasional clarinet or oboe to further remove it from any modern pop norms. Mia Sheard and Jennifer Foster chime in on backing vocals. It adds up to a series of love letters between incredibly accomplished musicians: both between friends and between generations. (Nov. 24)

Stream: “Face of Emily,” “New Love,” “Then There Were Three”

Hidden Cameras – Home on Native Land (Evil Evil/Outside)

Joel Gibb has had this on the backburner for almost 10 years, but Home on Native Land is far from a procrastination project; it’s more than worth the wait. It’s also not a coincidence that he’s finally releasing it immediately before Canada’s sesquicentennial year: the pun in the title is obvious, and for the album’s design he uses the beautiful new typeface called, yes, Canada 150, commissioned by the federal government for the upcoming national celebration.

Gibb’s nasal voice is well-suited to country and western, his skill at squeezing the most out of three- and four-chord songs perfectly in line with the genre. There are a couple of covers here, including a revelatory take on Percy Sledge’s “Dark End of the Street,” which illuminates the song’s sympathies with the love that dared not speak its name during more closeted times: “Hiding in shadows where we don't belong / Living in darkness, to hide alone / You and me, at the dark end of the street / I know a time has gonna take its toll / We have to pay for the love we stole / It's a sin and we know it's wrong / Oh, our love keeps going on strong.” It’s a song Gibb was born to sing. More important, it’s Gibb’s originals that truly shine: “Counting Stars” and “The Great Reward” deserve to be standards.

  

It may well be a cliché that every indie rocker eventually makes a country record, but few are likely to do it better than Joel Gibb. (Nov. 24)

Stream: “The Day I Left Home,” “Counting Stars,” “The Great Reward”

Jim James – Eternally Even (ATO)

The second solo album by the frontman of My Morning Jacket is another excuse for him to dive deep into his synth collection, sit down at his electric piano and jam over some sparse R&B grooves. The sound is luxurious and trippy, but the songs seem like afterthoughts and there’s little of the magic that James conjures when he’s leading a full band. His first album was delicate and lovely, like Bill Withers collaborating with the Flaming Lips; this time it’s more like Isaac Hayes being hijacked by Tangerine Dream. Hardcore fans of James won’t be disappointed; others should take this as a welcome reminder how good that overlooked first solo record was. (Nov. 10)

Stream: "Same Old Lie," “In the Moment,” “Hide in Plain Sight”

Alicia Keys – Here (Sony)

First Beyoncé, then Lady Gaga, now Alicia Keys: the biggest female pop and R&B artists have reinvented themselves in 2016, abandoning the maximalist demands of modern production, stripping down their sound and sounding better than they ever have.

Keys is still working with longtime associates Swizz Beatz, Mark Batson and Harold Lilly, but this time they turn their ear to early ’90s hip-hop beats, Roy Ayers samples (“She Don’t Really Care”), gospel blues (“Pawn it All”), Brazilian electro-pop (“In Common”), Lauryn Hill-style showdowns (“The Gospel”), Portishead-via-Issac Hayes balladry (“Illusion of Bliss”) and acoustic country music (“Kill Your Mama”). Even her incredibly earnest world-peace anthem (“Holy War”) is a winner; no doubt Bono is scrambling to figure out how to cover it with U2 ASAP. Is there anything she can’t do? Well, first single “Blended Family,” on the other hand, sounds like a treacly addendum to a TV movie soundtrack.

Alicia Keys has sold millions of records so far in her career; she didn’t need to change anything up to prove anything to anyone. But this finds her fulfilling the massive potential she’s shown since day one; this is the album she’s always had in her. (Nov. 10)

Stream: “Pawn It All,” “The Gospel,” “She Don’t Really Care”

Lady Gaga – Joanne (Universal)

There was always a lot more to Gaga than tabloid headlines and activism: her songs, her voice and her piano playing, for starters. Here, those three elements are at the forefront. Gone are the EDM trappings, the half-baked ideas fleshed out into album filler between singles, the cloying need to be everything to everyone. If 2011’s overproduced Born This Way started to fizzle her early promise, 2013’s Artpop just plain flopped and her 2014 album of duets with Tony Bennett was merely a distraction, Joanne marks a full-on comeback for one of the most exciting performers to emerge in the last decade.

Yes, there are more ballads, some with clear nods to Nashville, and one dedicated to Black Lives Mater. There are classic Gaga inspirationals, like “Diamond Heart” and the ’50s-via-’70s “Come to Mama.” There are obvious bids for pop radio (“John Wayne,” “Dancin’ in Circles”) and the dance floor (“A-YO,” “Perfect Illusion”). There are contributions from Mark Ronson, Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Homme, Father John Misty, Beck, Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker and Haim, as well as a frankly forgettable duet with Florence Welch called “Hey Girl”—a lost opportunity to team up with Ryan Gosling, if nothing else.

Rare is the superstar pop record this varied and this satisfying. For those who’ve been waiting for Gaga to make a record like this, it’s as thirst-quenching as Beyoncé’s Lemonade. (Nov. 3)

Stream: “Diamond Heart,” “Million Reasons,” “Sinner’s Prayer”

Lizzo – Coconut Oil (Atlantic)

"I don't need a crown to tell me I'm a queen." No doubt. Minnesota’s Lizzo makes her major-label debut with a flawless EP that announces her Queen Latifah/Lauryn Hill-level talent to the world: after two promising but uneven independent releases, a collaboration with Prince, a tour with Sleater-Kinney and a new job as an MTV host, she comes out swinging here as an unstoppable force not only as an MC, but as a powerhouse R&B singer—and, um, a flautist (that’s her playing the solo on the title track). With producer Ricky Reed (Pitbull, Meghan Trainor, Twenty-One Pilots), her stripped-down beats owe debts to New Orleans and dancehall, with the Latin-tinged opener “Worship” and first single “Phone” leaping out of the speakers. Body positivity is at the core of her message, hence the title track and “Good as Hell.” Best of all, she leaves us wanting more. A whole lot more. (Nov. 3)

Lizzo plays the Velvet Underground in Toronto on Dec. 8.

Stream: “Worship,” “Phone,” “Good as Hell”

Donny McCaslin – Beyond Now (Motéma)

Lazarus Original Cast Recording – Various Artists (Sony)

This year started with the death of David Bowie, and it ends with two direct reflections on his departure and his final creative endeavours.

The more successful of the two is from saxophonist McCaslin, whose band Bowie employed to create his final album, Blackstar. They are an enormous reason for its artistic triumph, bringing an energy not heard in his recordings for decades. On their own, they do their own thing—which makes it all the more remarkable how they managed to shoehorn themselves into Bowie’s songs in the first place. There are two direct nods to Bowie here: a cover of “A Small Plot of Land,” a forgettable later-period Bowie song that doesn’t get much better here, and a meditation on “Warszawa” from 1977’s experimental album Low. Both are curiosities at best, better employed as a gateway drug for Bowie fans to discover what McCaslin and band are capable of on their own compositions.

The cast recording for Lazarus, the off-Broadway production that was an odd jukebox musical of sorts produced with Bowie’s full participation, is a different beast. Recorded the day after he died, the cast runs through both popular (“Life on Mars”) and unpopular (“It’s No Game”) Bowie tracks, alternately murdering them (“This is Not America”) or reinventing them (“The Man Who Sold the World”) and, extremely rarely, improving them (“Absolute Beginners,” “Where Are We Now?”). The three new, previously unheard Bowie tracks are—okay. The bigger revelation, for those who didn’t already know, is that actor Michael C. Hall (Dexter, Six Feet Under) is a fantastic singer; I’d much rather hear him do his own Bowie tribute, independent of this weird stage production. (Nov. 3)

Stream Donny McCaslin: “Shake Loose,” “Bright Abyss,” “Warszawa”

Stream Lazarus: “Absolute Beginners,” “Where Are We Now?” “Valentine’s Day”

Agnes Obel – Citizen of Glass (Play it Again Sam)

As the weeks tick by on 2016, music lovers no doubt dread the news of each passing day: what beloved musician is going to die next? (Last week it was Sharon Jones.) How much more grief can we handle?

Agnes Obel is a Danish musician living in Berlin, who was raised by two accomplished musicians who buried their bigger dreams to take straight jobs. Her father died while she was touring her second album, 2013’s Aventine, and it was a huge blow. She cancelled a few shows but had to return to the road immediately. “After he died, I thought so much about his whole life, knowing how my life is now,” she told the Guardian newspaper. “He should have been a musician and I’m very aware I have something my father didn’t.”

It sounds like that stock-taking channelled directly into her work, because Citizen of Glass, her third album, is easily her best to date. It’s also heavy with grief: plaintive minor keys, her eerie string arrangements are filled with swoops and swoons, her voice increasingly comfortable in its lower range—in one case, artificially so; on “Familiar,” she duets with a pitch-shifted, masculine version of herself (not unlike Fever Ray of The Knife). Obel has a decidedly delicate touch as a pianist; here, she also utilizes harpsichord, spinet, celeste and a 1920s German synth called a Trautonium.

Citizen of Glass is for those long, dark winter nights ahead, during which we’ll reflect on all that we’ve lost. And in this case, what we’ve gained. (Nov. 24)

Stream: “Stretch Your Eyes,” “Familiar,” “It’s Happening Again”

Peppermoth – Now You Hear Me (independent)

How do you review ambient music? What makes one relaxation tape infinitely better than any other? Isn’t this music more of a function than art? Well, maybe, but it’s certainly easy to tell a good Saturday-night-beer-bash anthem from a piss-poor one, and you can easily delineate a quality Sunday morning meditation soundtrack from something that just sounds like a tap running in another room.

Peppermoth is the ambient project of Eccodek’s Andrew MacPherson, joined on occasion here by bassist Jeff Bird (Cowboy Junkies), trumpeter (and arts therapist) Gary Diggins, and guitar wizard Kevin Breit. It’s more than obvious that he’s spent time studying early Eno records—particularly the ones that featured trumpeter Jon Hassell—as well as the moodier side of the 4AD catalogue. But there’s nothing about Peppermoth that can be reduced to mere homage. Unlike a lot of ambient music, there is clear intention to every instrumental choice, every carefully placed note, every sonic layer that chooses to reveal itself at any given time. For a guy whose main band is about seeing what corners of the world he can bring into his sonic stew, this is a project where he peels back as much as he possibly can, how to make the most out of the most minimum of motifs—and he most certainly does. (Nov. 10)

Stream: “Dive,” “Ghosting,” “Moon Walk”

Robbie Robertson – Testimony (Universal)

The guitarist and principal songwriter with The Band has a new memoir out, you don’t need to be a fan of The Band or Bob Dylan or anyone else in the cast of dozens to appreciate a good yarn. But it sure helps to have an audio companion like this.

Much of this fans will have heard before: we don’t need to hear “The Weight” ever again, but by the same token this collection would be incomplete without it. No, the draw here is two tracks by Levon and the Hawks, recorded after Robertson and his bandmates quit as Ronnie Hawkins’s sidemen and before they hooked up with Bob Dylan. Here we finally hear the raw power of what was reputed to be the hottest live band on the Toronto scene of the mid-’60s—and the rumours are true. There are also live documents from their time with Bob Dylan, a track from The Basement Tapes, and other odds and ends.

There’s really no reason for any of Robertson’s post-Band solo material to be on here, as his book concludes with The Last Waltz. Apparently he’s writing a second volume; it’s safe to say there won’t be as much of an appetite for an audio companion to that one. (Nov. 17)

Stream: “He Don’t Love You” by Levon and the Hawks, “Honky Tonky” by Levon and the Hawks, “Come Love” by Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks