The 2010s in 10x10

Informative, not authoritative. I much prefer personal lists to those that lay some sort of claim to objectivity. I learn about a lot of great music from them. I hope this does this same for you. I want to read yours.

During this decade, like the one before it, I had a weekly review column in which I discussed approximately 200 albums a year. That’s 2,000 in a decade, not counting music by artists about whom I wrote stories or by whom I was hired to write bios, and not counting music I listened to just for the hell of it. So yeah, I had trouble narrowing a few things down.

This list has nothing to do with any professional obligation, however; it’s personal. It’s a list made by a 48-year-old white dad who lives in Central Canada, so make of that what you will. I don’t feel an obligation to pretend to like Frank Ocean or Taylor Swift or Bon Iver or Lana del Rey or Radiohead or whomever else leaves me cold. I didn’t think I listened to much rock’n’roll anymore, but apparently I listen to a lot more of it than Pitchfork writers do. Because I’m still very much an album listener, there’s nothing here by some decade-defining artists whose singles I love. And there’s definitely no Drake here—because, hey, I’m older than 35 and I’m pigheaded about my emperor’s-new-clothes crusade. The fact that he’s universally hailed as the “artist of the decade” only proves how wrong I am about everything.

So here’s my top 100 of the decade 2010-19. There’s no way I’m going to rank these. I did, however, break it down into a top 20 and the remaining 80, singling out 30 underdogs for discovery purposes. With four exceptions, no artist appears twice. One of these records seems to have been wiped from the internet, and I’m probably one of the only people who’s noticed. All lists arranged alphabetically, except the one off the top that’s not. I’m sure I forgot more than a few things.

If you want to shuffle all these up in your Spotify, there’s a playlist here.

If you just want one sample song from each, that playlist is here.

Here we go:

The top 20:

I wrote year-end lists every year—which made this task a helluva lot easier. Looking back, it’s always interesting (to me) to see what records I still want to listen to, and which merely sounded good at the time. But I’ll stand by my 10 #1 choices: I might not feel, today, that they’re necessarily the best records of that given year, but they’re still favourites that earn an easy pass onto an end-of-decade list. Click for links to the full lists for the years in question.

2010: Arcade Fire – The Suburbs

2011: TuneYards – Whokill

2012: Grimes – Visions

2013: AroarA – In the Pines*

2014: Owen Pallett – In Conflict

2015: Buffy Sainte-Marie – Power in the Blood

2016: Beyoncé – Lemonade

2017: Weaves – Wide Open

2018: U.S. Girls – In a Poem Unlimited

2019: Snotty Nose Rez Kids – Trapline

Here’s the last half of my top 20, absolutely essential records, all—at least to me, if no one else:

Alabama Shakes – Sound and Color (2015)

Eric Bachmann – s/t (2016)

Bonjay – Lush Life (2018)

Jeremy Dutcher – Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa (2018)

Veda Hille – Love Waves (2016)

Kaytranada – 99.9% (2016)

Man Man – On Oni Pond (2013)

Mbongwana Star – From Kinshasa (2015)

Robyn – Body Talk (2010)

Gillian Welch – The Harrow and the Harvest (2011)

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Stop here if you’re already bored. But of the other 80 records on this list, here are 30 underdogs records that got little or no press, by artists unlikely to fill a venue in English Canada larger than 500 capacity. Again, other than the top 20 listed above, these aren’t ranked; these are just highlighted in the hopes that you make some discoveries here. Broken down by Canada vs. the world:

Canada:

Geoff Berner – Canadiana Grotesquica (2017)

Cadence Weapon – s/t (2018)

Kathryn Calder – Bright and Vivid (2011)

Le Couleur – P.O.P. (2016)

Mark Davis – Eliminate the Toxins (2011)

Dennis Ellsworth – Things Change (2018)

Jim Guthrie – Takes Time (2013)

Hilotrons – At Least There’s Commotion (2013)

Zaki Ibrahim – Every Opposite (2012)

La Force – s/t (2018)

Jean Leloup – À Paradis City (2015)

Michelle McAdorey – Into Her Future (2015)

Scott Merritt – Of (2015)*

Nick Buzz – A Quiet Evening at Home (2013)
Doug Paisley – Constant Companion (2010)*

International:

Africa Express Presents Maison des Jeunes – Various Artists (2014)

Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah – Ancestral Recall (2019)

Gaye Su Akyol – Istikrarli Hayal Hakikattir (2018)

Altin Gun – On (2018)

Anna Calvi – Hunter (2018)

Brandy Clark – 12 Stories (2013)

Nels Cline – Lovers (2016)

EMA – The Future’s Void (2014)

Bill Fay – Life is People (2012)

Kikagaku Moyo – Masana Temples (2018)

Nakhane – You Will Not Die (2019)

Sons of Kemet – Your Queen is a Reptile (2018)

Moses Sumney – Aromanticism (2017)

The Thermals – Personal Life (2010)

Shye Ben Tzur, Jonny Greenwood and Rajasthan Express – Junun (2015)

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Looking for more familiar faces? Here’s the remaining 50, featuring somewhat more well-known subjects (though not necessarily, especially if you’re not Canadian):

Arca – s/t (2017)

Arcade Fire – Everything Now (2017)

BadBadNotGood – IV (2016)

Beach House – Teen Dream (2010)

Belle and Sebastian – Write About Love (2010)

Mary J. Blige – The London Sessions (2014)

David Bowie – Blackstar (2016)

Broken Social Scene – Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)

Basia Bulat – Tall Tall Shadow (2013)

Caribou – Swim (2010)

Rosanne Cash – The River and the Thread (2013)

Jennifer Castle – Pink City (2014)

Cat Power – Sun (2012)

Neneh Cherry – Broken Politics (2018)

Leonard Cohen – You Want It Darker (2016)

Destroyer – Poison Season (2015)

Beth Ditto – Fake Sugar (2017)

Gord Downie and the Country of Miracles – The Grand Bounce (2010)

Feist – Metals (2011)

Fucked Up – Dose Your Dreams (2018)

Lady Gaga – Joanne (2016)

Kendrick Lamar – To Pimp a Butterfly (2015)

Lee Harvey Osmond – The Folk Sinner (2013)

Low – Double Negative (2018)

Corb Lund – Cabin Fever (2012)

Janelle Monae – Dirty Computer (2018)

AC Newman – Shut Down the Streets (2012)

Joanna Newsom – Have One on Me (2010)*

Orville Peck – Pony (2019)

Perfume Genius – Too Bright (2014)

Robert Plant – Band of Joy (2010)

Jessie Reyez – Kiddo EP (2017)

Rosalía – El Mal Querer (2018)

Santigold – Master of My Make-Believe (2012)

Sleater-Kinney – No Cities to Love (2015)

Solange – True EP (2012)

Spoon – Hot Thoughts (2017)

Mavis Staples – One True Vine (2013)

Vince Staples – Summertime 06 (2015)

Tanya Tagaq – Animism (2014)

Tracey Thorn – Love and Its Opposites (2010)

Timber Timbre – Sincerely, Future Pollution (2017)

Tinariwen – Elwan (2017)

The Tragically Hip – Man Machine Poem (2016)

Rokia Traoré – Beautiful Africa (2013)

A Tribe Called Quest – We Got It From Here… (2016)

A Tribe Called Red – Nation II Nation (2013)

Vampire Weekend – Modern Vampires of the City (2013)

The Weeknd – House of Balloons (2010)

The Xx – I See You (2017)

*Four titles are not available on streaming services

AroarA seems to have ceased their web presence since Ariel Engle launched La Force: you can’t stream or buy this anywhere. I’ve been told In the Pines is about to be reissued in the U.S. on a poetry label out of Portland, Oregon.

Scott Merritt’s music can be purchased here.

Joanna Newsom’s music can be purchased here.

Doug Paisley's music is on Spotify, but curiously his 2010 album Constant Companion is not. It is, however, on Bandcamp here. 

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What’s that? You’re still here? Finally, in the highly unlikely event you’re not already satiated, here’s yet another 50 excellent records I think should also be thrown in the time capsule:

Alvvays – Antisocialites (2017)

Atoms for Peace – s/t (2013)

Courtney Barnett – Sometimes I Sit and Think… (2015)

Willis Earl Beal – Nobody Knows (2013)

Geoff Berner – Victory Party (2011)

Jim Bryson – Somewhere We Will Find Our Place (2016)

The Comet is Coming – Channel the Spirits (2016)

Darkside – Psychic (2013)

Dirty Projectors – Swing Lo Magellan (2012)

Gord Downie – Introduce Yerself (2017)

Dominique Fils-Aimé – Stay Tuned (2019)

Dr. John – Locked Down (2012)

Kevin Hearn – Days in Frames (2014)

Hidden Cameras – Home on Native Land (2016)

Japandroids – Celebration Rock (2012)

J Rocc – Some Cold Rock Stuff (2011)

Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings – Give Them What They Want (2014)

The Julie Ruin – s/t (2013)

Lydia Képinski – Premier juin (2018)

Angelique Kidjo – Remain in Light (2018)

Michael Kiwanuka – Love & Hate (2016)

Pierre Kwenders – Le dernier empereur bantou (2014)

Terra Lightfoot – New Mistakes (2017)

Hubert Lenoir – Darlène (2018)

Lykke Li – Wounded Rhymes (2011)

Lizzo – Coconut Oil EP (2016)

Lotic – Power (2018)

Brad Mehldau – Finding Gabriel (2019)

Miguel – Kaleidoscope Dream (2012)

Tami Neilson – Don’t Be Afraid (2015)

Tunde Olaniran – Transgressor (2015)

Operators – Blue Wave (2016)

Anderson.Paak – Malibu (2016)

Pusha T – My Name Is My Name (2013)

Kim Richey – Edgeland (2018)

Rocket Juice & the Moon – s/t (2012)

The Roots – And Then You Shoot Your Cousin (2014)

Sagot – Valse 333 (2014)

Sampha – Process (2017)

Paul Simon – Stranger to Stranger (2016)

Snowblink – Inner Classics (2012)

Kae Sun – Afriye (2013)

Tobi – Still (2019)

Maylee Todd – Acts of Love (2017)

Two Hours Traffic – Foolish Blood (2013)

Tom Waits – Bad As Me (2011)

Jack White – Lazaretto (2014)

Whitehorse – Panther in the Dollhouse (2017)

Wolf Parade – Cry Cry Cry (2017)

Wye Oak – Civilian (2011)

Apparently I thought 2018 and 2013 were amazing years for music. Breakdown by year:

2018: 21

2013: 20

2016: 19

2017: 18

2014: 14

2015: 14

2012: 14

2010: 13

2011: 10

2019: 7 (I’m less likely to trust my recent infatuations)

Pre-Polaris 2016, day two: Grimes, Carly Rae Jepsen

The 11^th Polaris Music Prize gala is six days from now, Sept. 19, at the Carlu in Toronto, where 11 jurors locked in a room will decide which one of these 10 artists will get $50,000. All other nominees receive $3,000.

Every day this week I’ll look at two of the shortlisted albums, assess their chances, and celebrate two albums that didn’t make the short list—or, in some cases, even the long list. Yesterday we talked about Black Mountain and Basia Bulat.

The shortlist:

Grimes – Art Angels (4AD)

My November review:

Art Angels was the most-anticipated Canadian release of 2015. Which is a bit weird.  

Yes, Claire Boucher, a.k.a. Grimes, is in every magazine—from Pitchfork to the New Yorker to Vogue—and she’s managed by Jay Z’s company. But until now, she’s been a musical outlier: her early, experimental records would be considered unlistenable to 99 per cent of her current audience; 2012’s Visions—my personal favourite album of that year—was a huge leap forward in terms of production and melody, but was still far left of Lorde in terms of mainstream appeal. In between then and now, Grimes recorded a full album and scrapped it, leaked one track that was apparently intended for Rihanna, and played coy about the arrival of Art Angels.  

Art Angels is Grimes’s big bid, her grab for the gold, her moonshot. (Note: she refutes this assumption.) There are giant pop anthems with chugging electric guitars. There are EDM disco rave-ups. There’s an acoustic ballad. There’s a song with just voice, a string section, and electronics. It all puts her in the company of Katy Perry and Tegan and Sara and Haim. Not, as we expected, Bjork or FKA Twigs or M.I.A.—even if there is a track with a spaghetti Western guitar riff, a Taiwanese rapper, an avalanche of electronic percussion, heavy-metal riffage and plenty of screaming. It’s called “SCREAM” (emphasis is hers). 

 In pop, only the singles matter, and there she’s completely succeeded. “California,” “Flesh Without Blood,” “Belly of the Beat” and the peppy (and insipid) title track all sound huge and radio-ready. Aggressive club tracks like “SCREAM,” “Kill vs. Maim” and “Venus Fly”—featuring Janelle Monae, one of only two guest spots on this one-woman show—display a much more butch side of Boucher, whose girlish upper range led many to infantilize her in the past.  

And yet for every pop triumph found here, the rest sounds like Boucher dulling her edges and shoehorning herself into someone else’s perception of herself, and ending up sounding like rejects from an ’80s teen movie soundtrack. She’s much, much better than that—as she proves on the other half of this album, and on every track on Visions, for that matter.  

Of course, assigning intent to any artist in any review is ridiculous, and every Grimes album has been so drastically different from the last that there’s no reason to expect anything in her future to be based on what we already think we know about her. Grimes will always keep us guessing—and second-guessing. In the meantime, she’s scored enough hits here to make the rest of the world pay attention.

The world paid attention. The Junos didn’t, which is part of what prompted the #JunosSoMale tempest earlier this year. Part of that debate was why, among other categories, Grimes was not nominated for producer of the year. As one of the rare female producers of any prominence, giving her a nod would be ground-breaking.

But is her snub in the producer category that odd? How many artists get points for producing or engineering themselves, as opposed to facilitating someone else’s vision? (This year’s Juno nominees had two: Dallas Green of City and Colour, and Emilie-Claire Barlow—a woman!—for co-producing her own work. It’s the first of Barlow’s 11 albums on which she’s shared producing duties.) Then there’s also the fact that weirdos like Grimes, regardless of gender, don’t usually get anywhere near those categories, usually reserved for conformists and hitmakers, not rule-breakers.

Women are seldom seen behind the boards in studios, either home or professional, and when they share credit—like Bjork, or Beyoncé—everyone assumes the men do all the heavy lifting. Neo-pop fans feel Grimes deserves credit for doing it all herself and not turning to a team of all-star helpers like (ahem) certain other Polaris shortlisters (who may or may not be part of this same blog post). But isn’t it also a bit patronizing to be somehow amazed that a woman does it all herself? I’m not amazed; it’s what I’d expect from an artist of Grimes’ talent.

I just wish the record was as daring and genre-busting and forward-thinking as she—and everyone else, including me—wants it to be. She has it in her.

But you know what? Don’t listen to anything I say in a random blog post. I implore you to read the esteemed Anwen Crawford in Australia’s The Monthly diving deep into her ambivalence toward Grimes, and how that relates peripherally to Carly Rae Jepsen. I’ve been waiting to read a piece like this for almost year, sorry to have only stumbled across it now.

The chances: Strong. For many critics, this lived up to the hype that preceded it. Many feel she was robbed for the Polaris back in 2013, when Feist’s Metals blinded Visions. This could easily be Grimes’ time. However, Grimes is also nothing if not divisive: if you’re anything less than impressed with her music, chances are you actively hate it. And curiously, for all the talk of sexism, the most virulent reactions to Grimes I’ve witnessed have been from women.

Carly Rae Jepsen ­– E*MO*TION (Universal)

The most overrated underrated record of the year.

For more than a year now, I’ve seen this album showered with laurels, while fretting about how the early release date in Japan impacting North American sales (why this is of interest to critics, or anyone outside Jepsen’s management team, is baffling to me) to lamenting her shut-out from the Juno Awards (she didn’t sell enough records to qualify in the pop category, which is sales-based), to its appearance on many year-end lists. “Carly Rae Jepsen is so underrated!” my peers claim. “E*MO*TION is a pure pop masterpiece! It only failed because she doesn’t work her social media as effectively as Taylor Swift!” I mean: really?! Maybe it’s just not that good, people.

Look, some of my best friends are… wait, I mean some of my favourite records are built on bubblegum, from ABBA to Ariana Grande, from Ronnie Spector to Robyn. I’m happy that this music finally has a place in the Polaris discussion, ever since Tegan and Sara broke the barrier a few years back. Even if I secretly want Polaris to prioritize artists marginalized in the mainstream, I still think we should consider pop music worthy of serious discussion.

Except that I have a lot of trouble believing that we’re talking about an album whose lead single had the chorus, “I really, really, really, really, really, really like you.” The song is incredibly insipid, juvenile and, well, unlikeable. The opening bars of “Boy Problems” are a direct nod to Madonna’s “Holiday”—and a reminder that I’d rather be listening to that than this teenage trifle, which makes the 30-year-old singer sound like a pedophile.

That said, aside from those two songs (which fill me with rage), I don’t dislike this record. When it’s great, this is what I want to hear while binging on cotton candy at the CNE (or PNE, as the case may be). I love the title track. “Your Type” is a great pop single. “LA Hallucinations,” the only track here with Canadian producers, sounds like a watered-down version of the 2102 Major Lazer/Dirty Projectors collaboration. The digitally spliced saxophone on “Run Away With Me” is the “Baker Street” of this generation—a generation whose primary exposure to sax in pop music is the current Hall and Oates revival. But the hiccupping slap bass line on the ballad “All That” is one ’80s joke too many.

Yes, she has a lot of great producers here, from the guy who did Haim to the guy from Vampire Weekend to the guy from Blood Orange to the guy from the Cardigans. But part of the problem for me is that I just don’t find Jepsen interesting as a vocalist. She’s no Alessia Cara (see below). She’s a cipher, replaceable, secondary to the music behind her. Which makes her move to Broadway a sound decision.

The chances: Good. I don’t doubt that people genuinely love this record, but at the same time so much discussion of it seems to be predicated on its underdog status. I dare you to find an article about Jepsen that doesn’t mention how poorly this sold, how her management bungled a formula for her that worked for Justin Bieber mere months later, or how the unwashed masses don’t know good pop music when they hear it. What better Hollywood ending could one ask for than Jepsen winning the Polaris?

Could’ve, should’ve beens:

Alessia Cara – Know-it-All (Universal)

Lorde-y, Lorde-y. This 19-year-old (now 20) from Brampton, Ont., wowed the world with her hit “Here,” and managed to follow it up with a solid album that showcased the depths of her vocal talent, her (not that uncanny) ability to mine teen angst, and went gold in the U.S. (I also seemed to hear it everywhere I went on my vacation in France this year.)

From my November review:

Cara is a walking We Day rally, with inspirational messages for the misfits and the wallflowers: “You should know you’re beautiful just the way you are / you don’t have to change a thing / the world can change its heart.” Her hit, “Here,” has her hanging back from the action at a lame party full of vomiting potheads, realizing she has better things to do with her time—like hanging with friends she actually likes, kicking back and listening to “music with a message.”  

There’s more than a little bit of Lorde here: the nerdy outcast who embraces big pop music to make a point about the vapidity of pop culture. Opening track “Seventeen” has a huge hook and beat worthy of Katy Perry. “Here” rides the same Isaac Hayes sample that underscored Portishead’s “Glory Box,” which is a much less obvious pop bid, but one that’s clearly worked. She channels Amy Winehouse on “Outlaws,” the torchy timbre of her voice belying her actual age.

I’ll admit I hadn’t listened to this album in full since then (I hear the singles on the radio all the time, of course). But returning to it now, it’s remarkably consistent and strong; it’s not just three hit singles and some filler from a not-ready-for-prime-time player. Cara’s the real deal. I can’t wait to hear what she does next.

Why it didn’t even make the long list: This was a shocker, unless the presence of Jepsen, Bieber, the Weeknd and Grimes meant there simply wasn’t space on people’s ballots for yet another chart-pop record. And yet of all those, I’d say Cara’s voice is second only to the Weeknd, her songs are better than any of them, and her production doesn’t give this old man a headache.

Coeur de Pirate – Roses (Dare to Care)

Polaris has not had a francophone artist on the shortlist since 2011. In the 11-year history of the prize, only four francos have ever made the shortlist: Karkwa (who won), Malajube (shortlisted twice), Radio Radio and Galaxie. I thought this would be the year Coeur de Pirate finally got English Canada’s attention, especially because more than half of Roses is in English. She did make the long list—which she’s done twice before. But I’d argue this is an even better pop record than those by Jepsen, Grimes or Bulat.

My review from last September:

Beatrice Martin is related to neither Swedish hitmaker Max Martin nor Coldplay’s Chris Martin. But Beatrice, a.k.a. Coeur de Pirate, has just made an album full of songs that those men would kill to have in their own repertoire. The Québécois artist has sold a million records in her own province and France, and is the only francophone artist in recent memory to attract any significant notice in English Canada (she sold out Massey Hall in Toronto last year—you can watch that here).

Now, with her first album of original music featuring songs in English—seven of 10 here—Coeur de Pirate is poised for a major crossover.  Martin is all of 25 years old, but writes like she’s studied Brill Building and Broadway and pop masters for decades. Everything here sounds enormous, Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound updated for 21^st-century fireworks displays. Traces of modern R&B form the rhythm tracks, where Martin nods to her love of The Weeknd (she once covered “Wicked Game”) and Rihanna (replicating the “Umbrella” beat on “I Don’t Want to Break Your Heart”). Meanwhile, tracks like “Undone” are the kind of stadium pop that Bono has been trying to chase for the last 20 years, the kind that Katy Perry might make if her songs weren’t stuffed with sonic steroids. Even the sparse ballads (“Oceans Brawl,” “Cast Away,” “Tu oublieras mon nom”) boast melodies meant to be sung by thousands in unison.

Why it didn’t make the shortlist: Maybe it’s too slick? Too top-40ish? Too girlish? That might fly any other year, but not one where we’re seriously discussing Jepsen, Bieber, Bulat, Grimes et al. So: Distinct society. You’d have better luck getting most English Canadian music writers to pull their own teeth than to get them to listen to a francophone record (which this isn’t, but whatever). I get it; I used to be that guy, too. I don’t want to be that guy anymore.

Tomorrow: Kaytranada, Jessy Lanza