The 100 Best Albums of 2022

In the 1990s, these North Carolina indie rockers were second only to Pavement in their ability to wed twisty guitar racket to unmistakably great songs. Their first album in 24 years is everything you’d want from a comeback record — the same great catharsis repackaged in a way that feels brand new. Singer-guitarist Eric Bachmann used to shout about the limitations of the rock scene; he’s got bigger things on his mind here (politics, mortality, shit like that), and songs like “Saturation and Light” and “Screaming Undercover” show growth too, landing closer to the kind of lifesaving classic rock the Archers were far too skeptical to shoot for back in their slacker youth. There’s not a bit of slack here, just the sound of a rough beast reborn ready for fresh battles and new adventures. —J.D.

Willow has a dog named Korn. If she ever gets a cat she should probably call it Paramore, because the music on her impressive fifth album lives in the sweet spot between early-‘00s nu metal and mid-‘00s emo. She adds real emotional urgency to that very of-the-moment flavor of retro Sturm und Drang. “Either side, win or lose, right or wrong, it’s a battle,“ she informs us on “curious/furious,” a power-through-the-pain sentiment that could sound pretty pro forma if her operatic vocal athleticism wasn’t so sweeping and her conviction so genuinely felt. —J.D.

MJ Lenderman plays guitar in the great Asheville, North Carolina, band Wednesday (see their must-hear covers EP from this year, Mowing the Leaves Instead of Piling ‘Em Up). On Boat Songs he’s a self-described “beat-down rodeo clown” whose neo-miserablist everybro mien brings to mind the Neil Young of Zuma if he was a Southern fisher-dude who had a few too many strong, drunk opinions about college football coaching hires. The mosquito-bitten “You Have Bought Yourself a Boat” sounds like the Band if they recorded for Drag City, while “Tastes Just Like It Costs” is a zen mountain of stanky low-fi guitar slop. The best song is “Hangover Game,” which uses Game Five of the 1997 NBA Finals as a lens to explore the way our lives can merge with our most cherished myths in ways that are kind of fucked up. —J.D.

A uniquely inventive instrumental dance-rock band with a international background and a truly worldly sound, Los Bitchos have an absolute riot on their debut, mixing up everything from Eighties teeth metal to Colombian cumbia, to surf rock and psychedelia, to disco and funk. Their music is playfully exotic but also invitingly lived-in, the sound of finding your voice in the flow of the world, and unlike a lot of instrumental music, they keep the listener’s enjoyment front and center by orchestrating each of their two-to-three-minute ditties for maximum pop impact, so songs like “The Link Is About to Die” or “Pista (Fresh Start)” have just as many memorable hooks as thick grooves or hot solos.  —J.D.

This trio of Black British feminists self-identify as punk, but this album makes it plain that the world is their musical oyster. From the cascading harmonies and chorus-pedaled riffs with which “Cactus Tree” crashes in, up to the video-game synths of “Sainted,” Back Home shows Big Joanie ready to try anything and coming up a winner each time. The engagingly conversational guitarist-vocalist Stephanie Phillips writes choruses that sink their hooks in quickly and effortlessly — try to resist humming along to “In My Arms” before it’s even done. —M.M.

De Todas Las Flores was an act of renewal for the Mexican singer-songwriter Natalia Lafourcade. After a period of releasing gorgeous odes to the Latin American songbook, Lafourcade started crafting a baroque collection of original songs, many of them inspired by months spent in her garden during the pandemic. The result is a bountiful masterwork that features some of her most lush arrangements ever, even when she’s exploring the intensity of life, death, and rebirth. “I came to this world alone, and alone I will go,” she sings on “Vine Solita,” a haunting elegy that opens an album blooming with bossa nova melodies, complex décima structures, and rich natural sounds. —J.L.

Jamaican sing-jay/songwriter/musician/producer Runkus merges his boundless creativity with British producer/radio host Toddla T’s production expertise on OUT:SIDE. The result: Runkus’ most sophisticated work yet, with his complex, provocative narratives matched to equally compelling, genre-blurring instrumentation. Runkus’ singing, rapping, and mesmeric speed-toasting vocals effortlessly traverse an eclectic soundscape of booming reggae bass lines, sputtering dancehall rhythms, trap beats, R&B samples, and entrancing features including Chronixx (“Pretty Suit”) and Ky-Mani Marley (“Good Love”). The remarkable closer “Taxi: Zion,” a heartfelt tribute to Runkus’ murdered bredren, aspiring artist France Nooks, presents a six-minute shifting wall of sound that ideally complements Runkus’ profound musings on revenge, faith, doubt, and the afterlife. —P.M.

Noise rock can mutilate your skull. It can also elevate your senses. This Philadelphia band manages both, creating oceans of day-glo violence that are truly a joy to sink yourself into. Visitor is the most songful album they’ve ever made. Singer Catherine Elicson has always been a great hardcore shouter, but here she finds a new force and depth, and the band’s signature swirling tumult is more nuanced and sculpted than ever. The psychedelic thrash of “Corner of Surprise” smiles and rages at the same time, while “Diamond Eyelids” and “Passing Strange” have genuinely hummable melodies, and “Bell” is a legit power ballad. The whole thing brings to mind the moment Hüsker Dü and Sonic Youth let their guard down a little and went from making high-end punishment to creating world-class rock & roll. —J.D.

The honest lyricism that made Ingrid Andress a Best New Artist Grammy nominee with her 2020 debut, Lady Like, is on full display on her follow-up. Good Person opens in a darker mood, showing the surprising influence of the 1975 as she sings about ridding herself of a toxic relationship and reflects on lost love. On the lyrical standout “Yearbook,” she sings sardonically of an imaginary couple: “I guess they stayed together just because they wrote forever/On the inside of the cover by their names.” But the album’s second half moves into deep love ballads, as she sings proudly about wearing “rose-colored glasses/So I never have to see/The colors of the ocean” on “Blue.” Love can be grand. —T.M.

Lizzo is one of modern pop’s great personalities, a whirlwind of charisma who produces self-affirming, life-enriching bangers with impressive consistency. The followup to 2019’s career-making Cuz I Love You is as hooky and dance-savvy as you’d hope, tricking out her sound with help from Max Martin, Mark Ronson, and Harry Styles producer Kid Harpoon, among other collaborators. Songs like the smash hit “About Damn Time” are reliably good fun, but the vulnerable moments are standouts — as on the title track, where Lizzo draws on details about her Houston upbringing and online hate she’s garnered, then flips them into a second-person affirmation anyone could use.

The last of a trilogy of albums incorporating the concept of time, Protoje’s Third Time’s the Charm thoughtfully and poetically contemplates our most precious commodity in various circumstances: as an extended period of blissful isolation (“The Hills,”) cherished moments spent with loved ones (“Here Comes The Morning”), and the mystical teachings culled from his Rastafari way of life (“Incient Stepping”). Collaborating with some of contemporary reggae’s most ingenious producers, including Iotosh, Ziah .Push, and the Zion I Kings, Protoje wisely lets Jamaica’s signature rhythms dominate the album’s exquisite collages, many infused with hip-hop and neo-soul elements, yielding a progressive reggae identity, and his finest effort to date. —P.M.

Making an album full of covers is a complex task, but it’s one that the Colombian singer and ChocQuibTown frontwoman Goyo does with mesmerizing grace. For an HBO special she released in March, Goyo recorded music that has shaped her, tackling ambitious classics that would have knocked a less-driven artist sideways. Instead, Goyo imbues the salsa staple “Oye Mi Ritmo” with new life, adds unexpected energy to Shakira’s “Antologia,” and brings kaleidoscopic rhythms to Carlos Vives’ “Pa’ Mayte.” She infuses who she is into the marrow of each song, all while discovering her own universe in the process on original tracks, like the instantly catchy “Na Na Na.” —J.L.

The Arizona-raised singer has been making records since 2008, but she’s never sounded more at home than on Loose Future, her dazzling collection of textured indie folk, sunny country soul, and wistful Seventies singer-songwriter pop. The title of “You Do What You Want,” one of the album’s gentle highlights, also serves as a mission statement: songs about lessons learned and love lost written, arranged, and recorded entirely on her own terms (including help from jack-of-all-trades producer Josh Kaufman). The entire collection is an invitation to join Andrews for the journey, beginning with the warm invitation of the opening title track: “Loose future,” Andrews sings, “if you wanna ride with me.” The remaining nine songs are one of the most thrilling rides from any singer-songwriter in 2022. —J. Bernstein

With his full-length debut, fusing hip-hop and R&B with melodic rhymes and smooth transitions, Blxst made listeners feel they were listening to one extended song. His Southern California roots are unassuming when listening for an accent, but this is an LP that’s guaranteed to make you feel as though you’re cruising on the freeway in 75-degree weather, no worries or anxiety. Even if you’re not from where he’s from, though, this music feels like home to anyone steeped in R&B: Songs like “About You,” which samples Case and Joe’s “Faded Pictures,” nod to the sensual music of the late Nineties and early 2000s that many listeners’ parents might once have accused us of “knowing nothing about.” And while the nostalgia pulls you in the direction of simpler days, Blxst’s lyricism is relevant to anyone looking for love in the 2020s. It’s the kind of performance that makes it easy to see why fans rushed to get tickets to his tour earlier in the year, and raises expectations even higher for what’s to come. —M. Jordan

Arriving with enough inventive force to knock you flat, Z1 is an instantly memorable debut from a visionary rapper, singer, and producer — the kind of album that makes you wonder how the artist who made it isn’t already a bigger star. Zora struts confidently from ecstatic electro pop (“All Around the World”) to moody alt-soul (“Happiest I’ve Ever Been”) to mile-a-minute club rap (“Runnitup”), bouncing between sounds like the whole world is her playground. This summer, Zora talked about wanting to make “something that gave girls — Black girls, specifically; Black trans girls, even more specifically — a sense of hope.” This joyful, self-assured album does that and more. —S.V.L.

Inspired by some of her favorite cinematic pop records from the Seventies, the Nashville singer-songwriter’s third LP marked a determined step forward in sound, style, and storytelling from her past two albums of warm country-folk tales: See the swirling West Coast surrealism of “Can’t See Stars,” the circus-organ psych-folk of “True Love’s Face,” or the gorgeous post-heartbreak reckoning on the piano-pop ballad “Gonna Be Strange.” With its cheeky title that nods to the singer’s penchant for gloom, Lighten Up is a stunning display of Rae’s ever-expanding emotional and sonic universe. —J. Bernstein

Raveena Aurora, a 27-year-old singer and songwriter who grew up in Queens, came up with a great idea for her second album — channeling the Bollywood-influenced R&B and pop jams she loved back in junior high into a concept record about a traveling space princess named Asha looking for love as she blithely hops from planet to planet. A lavishly buoyant groove courses through the whole LP, from the Tom Tom Club-loving synth-funk of “Kathy Left 4 Kathmandu” to the lithe West-meets-South Asian bustle of “Magic” and the sublime high point “Rush.” Her breathy vocals and sense of personal discovery light up every tune, making for an interstellar exploration of sound and self and border-leaping beauty. —J.D.

Multitude made Stromae’s seven-year hiatus feel worth it. The Belgian artist, who’s known for experimenting with African and electronic sounds, marked his return to music with Multitude, an album he nearly named Folklore before Taylor Swift nabbed that title. The record, in its essence, is filled with folkloric sounds from all over the world, including Andean charango, a Bulgarian choir on the album’s opener, and electro-cumbias from Mexico on the LP’s lead single, “Santé.” Only Stromae could bring together elements from all over the world and still make an album that feels this cohesive. —T.M.

If there was an award for best storyteller of the year, it ought to go to J.I.D. The Atlanta rapper’s latest album features an all-star cast of guests, from Dreamville colleagues Ari Lennox and Earthgang to hip-hop MVPs like Lil Durk and 21 Savage. But the stories that J.I.D tells throughout this project are his own, adding up to a narrative that brilliantly shows the complexities of his life. As told on this album, he’s no stranger to love, loss, family, or fighting for what he believes in, even if that means getting into a brawl in New Orleans at age 17 because a man hit his sister. The Forever Story has room for all the people and experiences that made one of today’s most compelling lyricists who he is. —M. Jordan 

Conan Gray shines the most when he’s honest, even if it hurts. And he sure shined on Superache, an album that explored the overthinking singer’s heartbreaks with dating on songs like “Footnote” and “Memories,” but also those in his childhood with the tearjerker “Family Line.” “It felt like scraping my ribs of any last bits of meat,” he told Rolling Stone about making the album, which is laced with ballads and explosive choruses produced by Olivia Rodrigo collaborator Dan Nigro. Superache is an assertive follow-up to Gray’s debut, Kid Krow, which featured breakout “Heather,” and it’s left listeners ready for what can come as he continues to mature. —T.M.

When Girlpool released their fourth LP at the beginning of 2022, it would have been hard to predict that by the end of the year, the folk-turned-synth-pop duo would have disbanded for the foreseeable future. That this may be the last statement from Avery Tucker and Harmony Tividad makes what was already a career high feel all the more poignant, from the forward-thinking industrial pop of “Nothing Gives Me Pleasure” to the dreamy, folk-leaning farewells of “Butterfly Bulletholes” and “Love333.” It’s the sound of a longtime duo finding thrilling new paths forward, even if it means starting over anew. —J. Bernstein

An American epitaph for our times: “The destruction became boring.” Craig Finn hits his peak on A Legacy of Rentals, as the Hold Steady frontman rambles through a broken country, with a cast of drifters and losers and hard-luck dreamers. The music is his most gorgeous and uplifting ever, sweetened by strings and Cassandra Jenkins’ backup vocals. Finn proves himself one of the great storytellers anywhere in American culture with post-pandemic tales like “The Year We Fell Behind.” “Messing With the Settings” is a heartbreaking farewell to an old drug buddy, with the sign-off, “Rachel did her best with the deal she’d been dealt/And that’s what I’ve got for a eulogy.” —R.S.

Giveon’s voice could make a nursery rhyme sound like an intimate ballad. On Give or Take, Giveon uses his superpower to cut deeper than ever before, belting stingers as memorable as his one-in-a-million baritone. And although he moves from vulnerabilities to dalliances to the inevitable heartbreak, this album feels cohesive, tied together nicely by a conversation with his mother about love and his rightful ascension to stardom. —T.R.

When Atlanta-via-Alabama punk singer-songwriter Lee Bains set out to make fourth album, he was intent on making it his most accessible collection yet: more sing-along choruses, slower than his typical breakneck tempos, sweeping melodies that, this time around, invoked Bob Seger more than Fugazi. But Old-Time Folks is also the richest and deepest set of history-meets-present story songs of Bains’ career, from the class solidarity of “Rednecks” to the lament for a loved one lost to social media conspiracy on “Old Friends” to the centuries-spanning intersectional history of the title track. This sweeping vision of Southern resistance is a career high point for a songwriter who continues to tell his homeland’s complicated, long-undertold stories. —J. Bernstein 

Latto’s second official album may be centered around “Big Energy,” her wildly successful interpolation of Mariah Carey’s classic “Sweet Fantasy” (which itself builds around Tom Tom Club’s “Genius of Love”). But the onetime Queen of da Souf uses the moment to spit “like I got a vendetta” on the rest of the album, offering brittle hard-rap cuts while testing her flow against guests like Lil Durk, Nardo Wick, and 21 Savage. “Bottega heels in the club/Who ever thought that a bitch would be up?” she chants on “It’s Givin” as she pays homage to crunk-rap heroes Crime Mob — an entirely different tradition than the pop-rap delights of “Big Energy,” and one she inhabits with ease. —M.R.

Though the pop psychology of “inner child work” could have come across as trite, Rina Sawayama shows on Hold the Girl that healing can be ugly, complex, and transformational. Addressing her deeply held traumas through trenchant pop hooks, she represents the chaotic process of piecing yourself back together by cobbling frantic U.K. garage beats, punishing Eurodance drums, and overblown stadium rock. These Franken-productions are met with early-2000s pop ballads about finally meeting your true self and country pop about celebrating with queer kin, revealing that on the other side of confronting your pain, there is transcendent joy. —M.H.K.

Saba’s 2018 album, Care for Me, earned widespread acclaim for its melancholy exploration of youth buoyed and burdened by life and tragedy on Chicago’s South Side. More than three years later, Few Good Things finds him adjusting to that success. “Money don’t mean wealth, that just mean rich,” he harmonizes on “If I Had a Dollar.” He has a lot more guests this go-round — mostly local homies like Smino and Pivot Gang, though Bone Thugs-N-Harmony OG Krayzie Bone makes a winning appearance on the summery gem “Come My Way.” The mood is soulful and vibe-y, but Saba has a strong, clear voice that gives this album propulsive life. —M.R.

On her second album in as many years, Wilson cements her status as one of country music’s best new stars. The title refers to her open-armed, down-home style — “country with a flare,” as she puts it — and Wilson happily describes herself as a “hillbilly hippy” who wears a crystal on her neck, drives a Ford F250, and loves Keith Whitley. But it’s heart, as much as flare, that makes the songs stick: Wilson writes convincingly about her daddy (spelled “deddy”), working-class roots, and lust, among other worthy topics. Start with “Heart Like a Truck,” which shows off Wilson’s speciality of flipping country convention into something meaningful. —C.H.

Just about every year, it seems, Future’s fans can look forward to not only a great deal of features, but at least one if not a couple of projects from him. This year he didn’t disappoint with I Never Liked You. From the lively intro “712PM,” Future sets the tone to the album, giving you the best of both worlds: From braggadocious and aggressive tracks like “I’M DAT N***A,” “HOLY GHOST,” and “Chickens” to the smooth stoner anthem “PUFFIN ON ZOOTIES,” it’s safe to say Future showcased his range. If that’s not enough, just contemplate the success of the Tems and Drake collab “WAIT FOR U” to see why this is one of 2022’s best, and a high point for Future. —D.G. 

The dream of Olympia, Washington, is alive in the form of the wonderful Ribbon Stage. The New York trio harken back to Nineties cuddle-core gods like Tiger Trap and the Shop Assistants. Hit With the Most is 11 songs in 19 thrilling minutes, quick little shots of blurry noise, pretty, careworn singing, and tumbling drums. Titles like “It’s Apathy,” “Nowhere Fast,”  and “No Alternative” set the emotional tone. But even when their songs sound like they might collapse before the band hits the finish line, Ribbon Stage always power through their angst and boredom to hit the twee-punk sweet spot. —J.D.

Ashley McBryde’s third album is more of a group effort than solo project, as Lindeville brings in the considerable talents of Brandy Clark, TJ Osborne, Aaron Raitiere, and others together to spin stories of small-town life both heartbreaking and hilarious. The John Osborne-produced album includes trailer-park drama in “Brenda Put Your Bra On,” a haunting story of a young woman who disappeared in “The Girl in the Picture,” and the oddly sweet “Gospel Night at the Strip Club” — all stitched together by clever radio jingles for businesses in the town. McBryde closes the album with a beautiful lullaby, singing from the perspective of the town’s stoic, watchful clock tower. —J.F.

Five years after her Spanish breakthrough, “Mayores” with Bad Bunny, Becky G delivered Esquemas, a diverse, mature project that fully epitomized the “reverse crossover” label that the Inglewood-born star has set on herself. On the LP, Becky showcased her natural ability to experiment with pure Latin pop songs like “Bailé Con Mi Ex” and dance-y reggaeton bangers like “No Mienten,” while collaborating with genre heavyweights Karol G, Natti Natasha, and El Alfa. Becky has proved that she’s far from the young teen pop star that fans met years ago — and that she’s a standout female leader in Latin music’s ever-expanding landscape. —T.M.

Though Marchita is a subtle, spare album, it’s bursting with examples of Silvana Estrada’s many talents. Songs such as “Mas o Menos Antes,” “Un Dia Cualquiera,” and “La Enfermedad de  Siglo” are intimate, stripped-back gems that emphasize her maturity and the years she spent training in everything from jazz, choir music, and Mexican son jarocho. They’re also a striking showcase of her gorgeous vocals, delicate instrumentation, and heart-shattering lyricism, all reasons why the Mexican singer-songwriter won the Best New Artist award in a surprising tie with Angela Alvarez this year at the Latin Grammys. —J.L.

From the excellent title track to the bombastic highlight “Knees Deep,” the New Zealand quartet’s third album shows a return to the uptempo, adrenaline-inducing power-pop hooks that made their 2018 debut, Future Me Hates Me, so beloved. They tucked away their secret weapon and pivoted to mid-tempo rockers on 2020’s Jump Rope Gazer, disappointing some fans — only to unleash it again and remind us why they’re one of the greatest indie-rock bands of their time. “The formula is being maintained,” guitarist Jonathan Pearce said. “But with this record, we’ve just completely leaned into what we think the Beths is.” —A.M.

Drake is no stranger to collaborating with today’s up-and-coming artists, but he took it a step further by translating the chemistry he’s had with 21 Savage over the years into an impressive full-length album. Drake himself has confirmed that Her Loss can be seen as the final part of a trilogy that started with last year’s Certified Lover Boy, then continued into the uptempo Honestly, Nevermind: Read the titles together as “I’m a certified lover boy honestly, nevermind her loss,” and you’ll get an idea of how he pulled off his biggest conceptual project yet over three albums. On Her Loss, Drake and 21 Savage set themselves up to flourish as they trade bars and melodies over impeccable instrumentals. Safe to say we will keep seeing bars from this album as Instagram captions well into the new year. —D.G.

Ostensibly the launch of a new band for Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood, the Smile’s debut LP feels like the raw essence of the Radiohead experience: progressive, minimalist rock spiced with Yorke’s mordant wit. (“Don’t bore us, get to the chorus,” he teases on the drawling, languid, and excellent “Open the Floodgates.”) Jazz drummer Tom Skinner rounds out the trio with smart, skittery rhythms that add a little funk to “The Smoke” and an off-kilter, 7/8 groove to “Pana-Vision.” The three musicians work well together and achieve a few moments of transcendence, such as the vaguely Pink Floyd-y “Free in the Knowledge.” It’s like In Rainbows, without the ultraviolet spectrum — just the pure colors shining through. —K.G.

Opening with a wash of wind instruments that conjures a Fifties romantic drama, the expat Colombian experimentalist has in fact built a modern sci-fi narrative about an extraterrestrial alien named Preta, using an orchestra of analog instrumentation and a very modern imagination. Old-school bolero is the dominant style, but spiked with electronic filigree and a rhythmic sense that can recall Tom Waits’ Eighties-Nineties heyday. It’s the most inviting set yet by the Berlin-based Dalt, one of the most restless and interesting minds in new music — and it demonstrates how even antique styles can dazzle in the right hands. —W.H.

If anyone is immortal in music, it’s Babyface. The singer and producer has been capturing the hearts and souls of fans since the Eighties, between his own songs he composed and performed himself and the ones he wrote for our favorite legends. In a memorable Verzuz battle during the peak of the pandemic, he calmly stole the show against Teddy Riley, giving those unhip to the goodness that was Nineties R&B a chance to see all that Babyface has had his hands on. This year, he followed that up with the triumph of Girls Night Out, featuring his favorite female R&B artists, like Ari Lennox, Queen Naija, Kehlani, Ella Mai, and Tink. The album begins with an audio cameo from radio and TV personalities Angie Martinez and La La Anthony, meeting up for some much-needed girl time to talk about life, love, and whatever else may arise during a weekend happy hour. Couldn’t we all use something like that? —M. Jordan

Love is the master plan, Drexler posits on his late-pandemic masterpiece, and he’s not alone. Salsa godfather Rubén Blades adds a verse of hopeful poetry, Israeli rapper Noga Erez sprinkles sassy funk, and the Uruguayan troubadour’s own voice — delicate and introspective — is augmented by female choruses and, for the first time, stunning orchestral arrangements. Drexler had contributed to C. Tangana’s El Madrileño, and Spain’s enfant terrible returns the favor on “Tocarte,” a bold electro-pop collage with faint flamenco underpinnings and deliciously sensuous rhymes. Drexler suffered from a crippling bout of self-doubt during production, but the end result is the most exquisite album of his career. —E.L.

After facing the tragedy of losing both his brother and protégé King Von, Lil Durk released an album that turned his agony into personal triumph. While the Gunna-assisted track “What Happened to Virgil” became a quick breakout hit from the album, the voice of Chicago spilled his pain on tracks like “No Interviews,” “Smoking & Thinking,” and “Federal Nightmares.” Through it all, he found time to give fans the drill anthems that got him where he is today on “AHHH HA” and “Golden Child.” —D.G.

Named after a tangled plant found in the Appalachian Mountains, Laurel Hell shows Mitski returning from a two-year hiatus, during which she contemplated quitting the music industry. But she powered through the thickets and unveiled treasures like “Working for the Knife, “Heat Lightning,” and the synth-pop stunner “The Only Heartbreaker.” On the last one — co-written with Semisonic frontman and hit songwriter Dan Wilson — she turns to the dance floor. “This album went through so many iterations,” she told us. “This album has been a punk record at some point, and a country record. Then, after a while, it was like, ‘I need to dance.’ Even though the lyrics might be depressing, I need something peppy to get me through this.” —A.M.

Where could Rauw go next after the titanic success of last year’s “Todo de Ti”? The answer, it turns out, is another planet. His third album is a transmission from some brave new world in outer space, built on silvery synths, slick dancefloors, and Eighties and Nineties techno glitter. It’s not totally unexplored territory: The album fits into pop’s post-pandemic fascination with euphoric club sounds, roving in the same universe as The Weeknd’s Dawn FM and Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia. But Rauw has found a spot in the cosmos that’s distinctly his, shaping Saturno into an electro-lit, nocturnal haven that also runs on reggaeton. —J.L.

Ari Lennox is a full class act, from her live streaming with fans as if she’s talking with friends, to her deeply relatable and personal music. When Age/Sex/Location dropped in the beginning of September, it felt like the perfect intro to fall. The nearly 40-minute album starts off with a jazzy-soul vibe that puts one in mind of Erykah Badu circa “On & On,” yet the slowness of the instruments and Ari’s sultry yet straightforward approach give “POF (Plenty of Fish)” a fresh identity. The next song is the cuffing season anthem of the year, with the Dreamville artist asking her lover plainly, “Can I get in that hoodie?” The remainder of the album is a deft balancing act. Soulful and fun songs like “Outside” make one want to body roll with the bass guitarist while singing the soprano notes; other tracks show more sass, like “Blocking You” and “Boy Bye,” which features CandyDrip artist Lucky Daye. Those themes reflect real life for many of Ari’s fans, and her soulful way of addressing them in song is all her own. —M. Jordan

One of the year’s great sleepers: Pictoria Vark, a.k.a. Victoria Park, is already a master of heart-tugging indie-rock vignettes on her excellent breakthrough album, The Parts I Dread. She’s got a clever touch for self-lacerating wit in ballads like “Wyoming,” asking, “Can’t I blame you for everything? Market crashes, mood swings?” “I Can’t Bike” is a long-overdue pedestrian anthem that takes a surprise detour in the final minute for a gloriously out-of-nowhere noise-guitar solo, evoking kindred spirits like Snail Mail, Soccer Mommy, and Hop Along. But she excels at quiet triumphs like “Friend Song,” where she looks up at the Iowa stars and dreams of someone left behind in Brooklyn. —R.S.

Horsegirl broke out of the buzzing Chicago indie-rock scene this year with their own fresh sound. If you’re a fiend for guitars, Horsegirl deliver the clang you’ve been craving — their bang-up debut, Versions of Modern Performance, is a blast of top-notch six-string fuzz that brings a sly new twist to the grooves of Pavement, the Breeders, or the Pastels. (Sonic Youth’s Lee Ranaldo and Steve Shelley play on the not-quite-ironic “Beautiful Song.”) These three Gen Z women might be too young to get into bars — hence “Dirtbag Transformation (Still Dirty)” — but they’ve got a wide-open future. Best line: “Sometimes I’m thinking that I lust you/But I know it’s only love.” —R.S.

Kiko El Crazy has stood out as one of the Dominican Republic’s most creative figures, a boldly dressed chaos agent who brings spiky, off-the-wall energy to his signature dembow tracks. His album Llego El Domi was another unpredictable turn for him: Bright and lithe, the LP feels like Kiko El Crazy painting with every color at his disposal, lighting up the project’s sonic palette with reggaeton, electro-pop, and even Juan Luis Guerra-inspired guitars. Whether he’s riffing with old-school reggaeton pioneers like Ñengo Flow on “Chukiteo” or trading verses with fellow Dominican artist Kaly Ocho on “Mi Loca,” he always sounds uniquely himself. —J.L.

On their first album in nine years, the Brooklyn post-punk trio give us the most open-hearted and deeply felt music of their career. They open with “Spitting Off the Edge of the World,” a song that’s every bit as towering as their classic ballad “Maps,” but this time the crisis isn’t romantic, it’s political, environmental, and generational. Then they proceed to dance the pain away on “Wolf” and “Fleez,” songs steeped in the arty New York grooves that have kept cool kids moving things forward since the 1970s. On the heartrending “Blacktop,” singer Karen O quotes Dylan Thomas over a Brian Eno synth drone. As she begs us to “hold on ’til the love is gone,” her words move through the music’s dark engulfing beauty like a faint message of hope in a sea of doubt and chaos. —J.D.

For those of us who watched the rise of the hip-hop trio Migos in the 2010s, the idea of an album without the third member, Offset, was a tad disappointing to our nostalgia. Yet the project came out swinging. Infinity, Quavo says in the album’s opening moments, is “the strongest link in the world… It runs in the blood.” As the first track, “Two Infinity Links,” goes on, he adds, “I never want to see the day I lose my bro to one.” Weeks later, that line unintentionally became a heartbreaking spiritual prophesy that seemingly foreshadowed the death of Takeoff. In retrospect, it may have been divinely necessary for Takeoff and his uncle Quavo to make an album as a duo, sealing their bond from being raised as brothers to growing as superstars. And by putting Takeoff in the spotlight, showcasing once again the rhythmic genius that launched the group’s success, it ends up as a fitting bookend to a remarkable and underrated career. —M. Jordan

“Life can sure be fun/Imagine if I knew this when I was young,” indie rock’s most endearingly down-to-earth stoner guitar mystic offers near the opening of Watch My Moves. Vile remains our era’s great inheritor of the Neil Young/Meat Puppets/Dinosaur Jr. tradition of bending chords, spooling out hypnotic solos, and chilling with your demons until they start feeling like drinking buddies. Kurt noodles, he choogles, he burns and he blazes. He sings about jamming out at home in his underwear, and about listening to “Heart of Gold” while he waits to get on a plane, and about how playing his guitar makes him happy when he starts feeling bad. “Probably gonna be another long song,” he jokes on “Fo Sho.” In a world of immediate-gratification trash, this 73-minute anti-opus is one hell of an argument for taking the long way round to wherever the hell you may or may not eventually end up. —J.D.

After stepping away from the group Aventura in 2011, professional ladies’ man Romeo Santos made his solo debut with Formula Vol. 1, a dashing, daring effort that revealed exciting pop possibilities within bachata. Formula Vol. 2 came a few years later — and this fall, fans got the long-anticipated third installment of the series with Formula Vol. 3. Santos revisits bachata’s deep, rich roots in the Dominican Republic. But he also surprises people with wildly imaginative collaborations, much like he did in 2011: He sneaks flamenco guitars onto “Pañuelo “with Rosalia and, in one of the best moments on the album, dives into ranchera with Christian Nodal. —J.L.