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:

2020 Polaris Music Prize shortlist, day 2: Jessie Reyez, Pantayo

My annual five-part look at the shortlist examines two records a day, plus two personal picks from the qualifying period, and this year—as the prize gets older and still skews young—I’m including one veteran artist each day whose latest work risks getting lost in the shuffle.


This year we’re going in reverse alphabetical order, because, hey, everything else about 2020 is upside down.


The winner this year will be announced on Monday, October 19 in a televised ceremony featuring 10 commissioned short films, airing on CBC Gem, YouTube and social media.


Day 1, looking at Witch Prophet and U.S. Girls, is here.


Day 2:

Jessie Reyez – Before Love Came to Kill Us (FMLY / Universal)

The album: The only superstar on this list, Reyez has also been a critical favourite since her debut EP, for obvious reasons: her singing voice, her rap flow, and her charismatic audacity. This is her first full-length, and it comes with enormous expectations.

Nobody cares what I think of Jessie Reyez, and nor should they. For what it’s worth, I thought the Kiddo EP was one hell of an introduction, and she hasn’t topped it yet. Her breakout hit was “Figures,” which reappears here for no apparent reason, and most of the better songs here adhere to the same formula: ballads, often waltzes, in which Reyez has a tendency to over-emote and pull off the biggest aural pouts since Corey Hart. The title track works; “Worth Saving” is, uh, not. When she goes back to club tracks like “Dope,” they sound forced (exception: “Roof”). 

“Coffin” is an album highlight, a 6/8 bluesy ballad with one of Reyes’s finest vocal performances, until Eminem shows up to take a massive misogynist shit all over it. What the fuck is he doing here? She doesn’t need that prick. Her own machismo can be downright embarrassing: “If I blow your brains out, I could kiss it better.” Really? Some of the left turns work best of all, like “Intruders” and “I Do.” But what’s up with the atrocious autotune on “La Memoria”? It’s not like Reyez isn’t an amazing singer (see: “Love in the Dark”).

I’d love to love Before Love Came To Kill Us, but it’s all over the place, and not in a good way. I realize how patronizing and perhaps sexist it is to say about a successful artist like Reyez that she has yet to come into her own, but I’m still waiting for her to deliver a great album. Her debut full-length is not it. 

The chances: Fair. On an entirely personal note, this album came out the week of the lockdown, and it was absolutely not the kind of music I wanted to hear at that point in time. The very first lyric is, “I should have fucked your friends”—wait, is that even possible anymore? But both this and the new album by noted misanthrope the Weeknd (released a week earlier) obviously had no problem finding their audience in the coming apocalypse. But I’ll admit that if I was in the jury room, I’d have a hard time giving this album a fair shake in 2020. It sounds like an odd time capsule from the Before Times.

Pantayo – s/t (Telephone Explosion)

The album: All critics—okay, the best ones—are suckers for something they haven’t heard before. We’re curious people (ideally). And it’s safe to say that few people, if anyone, in North America has heard a band like this, which combines traditional Filipino percussion with modern R&B and pop. Producer Alaska B (Yamantaka//Sonic Titan) ensures everything sounds rich, thick and totally pro: deep 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. 

If the Polaris was awarded on originality alone, this would be a shoo-in. My only criticism is that there’s a bit of debut-itis; as good as this is, I’m pretty sure it’s only the beginning. But even if this is all we ever hear from Pantayo (and I have no reason to suspect this), it’s more than enough. I’m so happy this band exists, that this debut record got made the way it did, and that we’re talking about it on the Polaris shortlist.

Bandcamp link here. 

The chances: Good. It’s certainly as strong as the best albums on this list, and the underdog story might help them in the subconscious minds of jury members. Do not be remotely shocked if Pantayo wins this, putting them in a fine Polaris tradition of left-field winners.





The could’ve, should’ve beens:

Little Scream – Speed Queen (Dine Alone / Merge)

The album: Writing political pop music is one of the hardest tasks as a songwriter. It’s incredibly easy to fall flat on your face, deep in name-calling and juvenile call-outs. It’s also incredibly easy to be so incredibly vague as to be completely irrelevant. Little Scream’s Laurel Sprengelmeyer avoids all those pitfalls here. First of all, she clearly puts the music first: all these songs are sparkling pop constructions, with exemplary players; there’s a lot of Fleetwood Mac and Prince lurking between the layers. At least half this record sounds like a greatest-hits collection by a ’70s legend. What elevates Little Scream is her lyrical approach: on tracks like “Disco Ball” and “Privileged Child,” her characters “bear the dead weight of a dream,” living in late-stage capitalism, longing for a basic luxury like their own washing machine (the title track), dealing with post-decadence regret (“No More Saturday Nights”) now that the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been (“Dear Leader”). Sprengelmeyer writes vivid portraits with a universal ring, and the fact that she does so on top of such lush and glorious songs makes it all that much better.



Why it didn’t even make the long list: From what I can tell, this record got reviewed in Exclaim, had an article in the Montreal Gazette—and that’s about it. Radio silence. Why?! Musically, it’s not that far removed from U.S. Girls, and it’s just as intriguing lyrically, so it’s not like she’s out of step and out of time. Little Scream has been around a while; her 2011 debut made the long list, though she only surfaces every few years. As much as I love this record, I will admit that it was a bit of a grower. But once it clicked, I started playing it every day for a month. These hooks are deep. Nobody heard this record. Did you hear this record? Go listen to this fucking record. 

Lil Andy – All the Love Songs Lied to Us (independent)

The album: “All the love songs lied to us, except the one you’re hearing now.” I’m not in a mood to trust anyone these days, so I appreciate Lil Andy’s chutzpah and his honesty. I also appreciate what a phenomenal collection of songs he’s written, and I appreciate the ace players he gathered to play them, and I appreciate that he’s given me a reason to love a straight-up country record again, which is not something I’ve done in a long, long time (though the new Brandi Clark is pretty good, and I have to admit I haven’t spent a lot of time with the new Corb Lund). I’ve written before that Lil Andy sounds like what would’ve happened had Leonard Cohen stuck with the Buckskin Boys in his early Montreal days. Having followed Andy’s work for many, many years, I can confidently state this is the best thing he’s ever done.

Why it didn’t even longlist: It’s a country record from Montreal. Enough said. Do jurors hang out at the Wheel Club? I'm guessing no. Not a lot of roots-y music on the long list, outside of Andy Shauf, Joel Plaskett and William Prince. But: seriously? Jurors think longlister and fellow folkie Montrealer Leif Vollebekk is a better songwriter than Lil Andy? I bought a vinyl copy of this after accosting Andy in the Montreal metro system last winter. But you can just go listen to it here.




Veteran MIA:

New Pornographers – In the Morse Code of Brake Lights (Collected Works)

It's so easy to take this band for granted, 20 years in. I'll admit that I did that when this album came out in August 2019; I know the formula, I know what to expect. But it's a grower. Just as Carl Newman and company did on 2014's surprise shortlister Brill Bruisers, this record stands out as one of the best that anyone on here, including Neko Case, has ever been a part of. (FWIW, there's no Dan Bejar on here, though he co-wrote the single "Falling Down the Steps of Your Smile.") 

It marks the official debut of touring violinist Simi Stone, who adds welcome orchestration; there are also appearances by Vancouver string quartet Strength of Materials (who made a full-length collab with Ford Pier), who bring glorious colour. The keyboards and synths, handled entirely by Newman and Kathryn Calder, are rich and lovely, not unlike those heard on Newman's highly underrated 2012 solo album Shut Down the Streets. One of the biggest challenges this band has always faced has been balancing moods and textures, if only because they do big, dense, pop-rock songs so well. Here, tracks like the sparse "You Won't Need Those Where You're Going," "Opening Ceremony" or the slow, choral build of the bitter "Higher Beams," are album highlights that don't for a second distract from the sugar highs. 

This marks the first time the New Pornographers have failed to at least make a Polaris long list, which is a) good for Polaris, to make way for new blood, but b) underrates these vets at a time when they sound as good or better than they ever have. I'm sad I didn't get to see this record performed live. 

Tomorrow: Nehiyawak, Lido Pimienta

My personal Polaris 2020 long list part 4

Day four!

Recap: I cast my ballot for the Polaris Prize this week. Jurors only get five slots. Almost 200 albums were suggested by fellow jury members. A long list of 40 will be published next week. As always, there’s no shortage of excellent Canadian music. But this year there’s no one album—or even three—that I feel so obviously tower above the rest. Which makes the winnowing even more difficult.

I’m not going to tell you what’s on my ballot, but these are the 40 records I considered (10 in each post). Most of these have been discussed by the Polaris jury at some point, but this is a very personal list that no one should read into deeply. Many of these will likely not make the long list, and many not mentioned here most definitely will.

Final caveat: I’m a 48yo anglo white dad who lives in Toronto with all the obvious blind spots that entails, so prepare yourself with as many grains of salt you feel are required.

Part 4/4: 

Owen Pallett – Island: This long-delayed album came out two weeks before the Polaris deadline, and yet I wouldn’t at all be surprised to see it become one of the most-discussed albums this year. And not just because the first single (with its excellent accompanying video) contains this lyric: "Do not be scared / Surely some disaster will descend and equalize us / a crisis / Will unify the godless and the fearless and the righteous.” Though as lushly orchestrated as much of his work, these songs are centred around acoustic guitar, marking a new(ish) direction for Pallett: very little evidence of his violin-virtuoso past, few of the electronics that shaped 2014’s In Conflict, the orchestration never draws attention to itself, the music rich with subtleties and no concessions at all to pop audiences (usually Pallett would throw a bone or two). This sounds like Pallett’s most musically personal album; it also features the loveliest vocals he’s ever put to tape. For day-one fans, it’s as much a mature, one-man version of Les Mouches as it is a Final Fantasy record. Bandcamp link here.

Pantayo – s/t: Now here’s something you haven’t heard before: a group of Filipinas integrating traditional percussion (kulintang) with R&B and pop that lies somewhere between ESG, Massive Attack and Solange. Yes, the novelty is part of the appeal, and that will help this land on the long list and go possibly much further this Polaris season. But, like Tagaq or Jeremy Dutcher’s work, this is far from mere novelty: it’s an incredibly strong record: the grooves, the vocals, the songs, the sonic textures, the production by Alaska B (Yamantaka // Sonic Titan). Pantayo didn’t start out like this; when I saw them perform at a Long Winter event several years ago, it was definitely more on the traditional side. Now, “V V V (They Lie)” and “Desire” are total radio summer jams, uptempo and down, respectively. There’s even, it seems, some ’80s new wave in the mix here, but that could just the Scarborough boy in me being brought back to a time when I would have first heard traditional Filipino music at high school talent shows 30 years ago and now I’m weirdly conflating a bunch of my own memories in what is apparently a record review. Anyway, this is going to be the record that will make the list and have industry veterans wondering, “Where the hell did this come from?” Bandcamp link here.

Lido Pimienta – Miss Colombia: Is it okay to say now that I didn’t like Pimienta’s 2017 Polaris winner La Papessa? That was a milestone win for many reasons (first allophone winner, entirely indie release), but I still heard a nascent artist who had yet to fully bloom. The conversation around the win—and the way Pimienta dealt with an onslaught of hateful criticism—was more worthy than the album itself, in this random white guy’s opinion, FWIW (not much). The Toronto artist took a lot of time and care following it up, and now we can talk about the music again. Everything has stepped up, starting with Pimienta’s own vocals: they’re stronger, express more dynamics and inflection, and generally more emotionally resonant. That’s true of the electronics as well; she’s said part of her challenge here was to make the technology sound beautiful, and she succeeded. The brass arrangements throughout are also a nice touch. Prince Nifty, a.k.a. Owen Pallett collaborator Matt Smith, co-produces here (check out his lovely new solo release), and guests include Colombian palenque group Sexteto Tabala (the collab here will sound familiar to any fans of Caribbean-Colombian legend Toto La Momposina) and South American superstar Li Saumet of electro-cumbia-pop band Bomba Estereo. One could argue that Pimienta won the Polaris prematurely, but if she hadn’t, then this superior record would likely not be getting an international release; its ambition might not even have been possible. Bandcamp link here.

Slow Leaves – Shelf Life: It’s not like critics are stumbling over themselves in a hunt for the new Lightfoot in 2020. But hey, FWIW, Slow Leaves is likely the new Lightfoot, or at least the most worthy contender since Doug Paisley dropped the 2011 classic Constant Companion. Davidson sings with a gentle lilt and affecting tremolo, his breezy folk rock designed to be played on crackly vinyl or around a campfire. Davidson sounds like a middle-aged dad, which he is, and this is an ideal midlife rainy day record when accompanied by coffee and/or scotch. It’s not new or dark or sexy; it’s just life. Hard to make that sound exciting in a record review. But hey, if the likes of Leif Vollebekk can crack the shortlist, surely Slow Leaves can. Bandcamp link here.

Rae Spoon – Mental Health: This artist has had quite a rollercoaster two years: they continue to run the best truly indie label in Canada (Coax Records) and they released two of the best albums of their career (including this one). But shortly after cancelling a tour due to the pandemic the non-binary artist announced they were diagnosed with cancer before even turning 40. Rae Spoon’s music has always been about resilience, which means in 2020 an album like Mental Health strikes particularly potent chords. As a former folk country artist who now makes what could be called electro-tinged indie rock, Spoon is first and foremost a classic pop songwriter: their songs are full of earworms, no matter the arrangements underneath. Lyrically, this record taps into the anxiety age with precision, which makes it essential listening. Bandcamp link here.

Storry – CH III: The Come Up: The back story behind this record is fascinating, terrifying, tragic, and a whole other tale unto itself (read Nick Krewen’s profile here). But the short on Storry is that this debut album (don’t let the CH III title fool you) is about her past life as a sex worker after an opera career went astray. She turns her classically trained voice to gutsy and jazzy R&B with some ace players behind her. The slick veneer might be suited to upscale jazz clubs, but the narratives pull no punches. Even if there wasn’t a back-Storry here (sorry), the woman’s voice is enough of a draw on its own. Ain’t no AutoTune here, she belongs on a stage. Won’t even need a microphone.

US Girls – Heavy Light: It’s weird to think of Meg Remy as a Polaris veteran, but this is likely to be her third appearance on a shortlist and another likely winner—I thought she’d take it for 2018’s In a Poem Unlimited, my favourite record that year. Heavy Light picks up where that record left off, and, inspired by her 2018 Polaris performance, features a strong vocal presence from backing singers including arranger Kritty Uranowksi, James Baley (remember that name), and Basia Bulat. E Street saxophonist Jake Clemons also shows up, as do members of Arcade Fire and Ice Cream. The album was recorded largely live in Montreal by Howard Bilerman, and the electric energy is evident. Hard to go wrong with that many all-stars on board, and Remy rises to every challenge: she’s one of the most astute and fascinating lyricists working today, set to beautiful melodies steeped in the history of pop music. Part of this album’s success is due to Remy’s generous and collaborative spirit: she’s not precious about empowering her collaborators, working with co-writers (including Bulat), or even revisiting earlier material from her lo-fi solo days (“Overtime” and “Red Ford Radio” are highlights here). Everything about this exudes empathy and community, which is exactly what we need right now.  

Whoop-Szo – Warrior Down: I’m a lightweight when it comes to heavy music, which makes Whoop-Szo all the more surprising. This is stoner sludgy grunge that packs a wallop, even more so when Adam Sturgeon sings about his family’s experience in residential schools or a cousin being shot by cops in Saskatchewan (The chorus “Warrior down in a Saskatchewan town” says so much with six words, a Neil Young-esque simplicity all political songwriters should study). But this isn’t just a Sabbathian sonic anvil; this band started out as a considerably more experimental project, and there are more delicate moments here and prog diversions and deliciously dirty synth interludes and piano instrumentals. I don’t know who London, Ontario engineer Kyle Ashbourne is, but he’s heavy as fuck when he wants to be, with a Blurtonian touch that serves this material extremely well. Watch out for Whoop-Szo: at least one more record like this and they could turn into the most important rock band in Canada. Bandcamp link here.

Witch Prophet – DNA Activation: I certainly didn’t hear any other Canadian record like this in the last year: Habesha hip-hop beats with an Afrofuturist bent and jazzy saxophone (Karen Ng) throughout. Fans of Erykah Badu’s work with Georgia Anne Muldrow will find a lot to love here. 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. Bandcamp link here.

Wolf Parade – Thin Mind: All great bands who feel like they’re hitting a wall should take a seven-year break. It did wonders for Wolf Parade. Both 2017’s Cry Cry Cry and now Thin Mind take everything that was ever intriguing about this group of musicians—as players and songwriters—and amplify all their strengths. Rare is the rock band that actually gets better with age, but this new chapter of Wolf Parade is the prime of their career, and Pacific Northwest star producer John Goodmanson captures it perfectly. Other than the obvious strengths of frontmen Dan Boeckner and Spencer Krug, the MVP here is drummer Arlen Thompson, who gives the material a real swing and swagger. Fuck nostalgia, forge the future. Bandcamp link here.

I’ll feel extremely lucky if even half of those 40 records make the longlist.

These next ones are not my bag, but here are 15 artists whose albums are likely to be longlisted, so give them a listen if you haven't already: 

Marie-Pierre Arthur

Backxwash

Daniel Caesar

Dvsn 

Grimes

Flore Laurentienne

Men I Trust

Nap Eyes

Nehiyawak

William Prince

Jessie Reyez

Andy Shauf

Super Duty Tough Work 

Wares

The Weeknd

The official long list will be announced on Monday June 15.

Jurors will then have a chance to submit their shortlist ballot; the shortlist will be announced July 15, and the winner on Sept. 21.

Happy listening! Buy the music you love!