My Ten Favorite Albums of 2022
King’s Disease III by Nas: Nas is the Pearl Jam of hip hop. Like the famous
Seattle-based rock band, Nas burst onto the scene in the 1990s with a hit album (Illmatic, 1994) and has churned out quality material at regular intervals ever since. And yet, while a legend in his own time, he probably would not rank at the very top of artists from his own generation (Jay-Z, Eminem) or from subsequent ones (Drake, Kendrick Lamar). Consistency is Nas’ greatest attribute, though King’s Disease III boasts peaks (“Legit,” “Thun”) worthy of his greatest efforts.
We by Arcade Fire: Arcade Fire has been bemoaning the pitfalls of digital culture since Reflektor (2013), and this trend continues on We. It is a thoughtful and, at times, exhilarating collection of songs, even if it does not quite rank with the band’s best albums Funeral (2004) and The Suburbs (2010). Appallingly, and with more than a little irony, Arcade Fire’s outspoken frontman Win Butler was accused of sexual misconduct in August 2022. As it turns out, many of his extramarital affairs were facilitated by social media, inviting charges of hypocrisy. Such criticism is understandable, though it’s also fair to wonder if Butler has been writing and singing about his own temptations all along.
Beyond the Willow Tree by Cleveland Francis: During the late 1960s, a young medical student at William & Mary named Cleveland Francis recorded a number of demos, covers, and tracks in the folk genre, some of which appeared on his self-released album Follow Me (1970). His timing, alas, was not good. The folk boom that ushered in the decade was now waning—a decline that metaphorically began in July 1966, when Bob Dylan crashed his motorcycle in Upstate New York. Francis moved on. He continued as a recording artist, finding modest success in country music, though the bulk of his professional life was dedicated to cardiology. In Beyond the Willow Tree, a reissue of Francis’ output from 1968-70, we get a glimpse at what might have been. The songs are simple, atmospheric; Francis’ voice is clear, expressive. Put on Beyond the Willow Tree on a cool, rainy day, ideally with a cup of coffee.
American Heartbreak by Zach Bryan: Though American Heartbreak is Zach Bryan’s major-label debut, it feels like he has been around forever. Perhaps that’s because Bryan is a veritable hybrid of several singer-songwriters that have dominated Americana over the last decade—a sprinkle of Chris Stapleton, a dash of Jason Isbell, and some Eric Church and Luke Combs thrown in for good measure. This is hardly a bad thing. Sure, American Heartbreak could be tighter, more refined: it features 34 songs and clocks in at over two hours in length. Yet, like the open roads that Bryan loves to eulogize (“Tishomingo,” “Highway Boys,” “This Road I Know”), American Heartbreak is more about the journey than the destination.
Natural Brown Prom Queen by Sudan Archives: Some people are just really talented. Take, for example, Brittney Denise Parks, who goes by the stage name “Sudan Archives.” She grew up in Cincinnati, playing the violin. Later she moved to Los Angeles, where she studied ethnomusicology, with a particular interest in African and Celtic sounds. On Natural Brown Prom Queen, her second album, she fuses these folk interests with the hip-hop and dance vibes of artists such as Erykah Badu, M.I.A., and Beyoncé. The upshot is the most eclectic album of the year.
Cruel Country by Wilco: This spot could easily have gone to Big Thief’s Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You. Both albums represent low-fi indie readings of folk and country music; both have a weary, weekend-morning quality that feels like a comfortable hoodie. But I’ll give the nod to Cruel Country, if only because I’m a longtime Wilco fan, who has enjoyed seeing the band return to its roots. Sure, nothing here boasts the propulsive twang of “That’s Not the Issue” (1995) or “Forget the Flowers” (1996), not to mention tracks from frontman Jeff Tweedy’s prior stint with trailblazing alt-country band Uncle Tupelo (1987-94). Still, there is enough acoustic strumming and steel guitar on Cruel Country to pass as a legit Americana album, even if Tweedy’s lyrics challenge generic convention by eschewing grand narratives in favor of quiet introspection.
Alpenglow by Trampled by Turtles: I’ll admit upfront: Trampled by Turtles is one of my favorite bands, so placing Alpenglow this high no doubt betrays my own proclivities. Is it a better album than Natural Brown Prom Queen? Is it even better than some of the albums in my Honorable Mention list below? It certainly isn’t the zenith for Trampled by Turtles—a Minnesota-based “progressive bluegrass” band, which, if you don’t know them, sound like a cross between Green Day and The Avett Brothers. Produced by Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy—who, as noted above, issued his own set of downbeat country tunes in 2022—Alpenglow is more Avett Brothers than Green Day, and that saps some of the frenetic energy that has characterized Trampled by Turtles’ best work, from Palomino (2010) to Life Is Good on the Open Road (2018). Still, tracks such as the rousing “Starting Over” and the tempo-shifting “Burlesque Desert Window” show that Trampled by Turtles have not lost their fastball.
A Light for Attracting Attention by The Smile: Technically, A Light for Attracting Attention is not a Radiohead album. And yet one could argue that it is the most Radiohead has sounded like Radiohead since Hail to the Thief (2003). This sentence is not as confusing as it otherwise seems. Almost certainly the greatest band of its generation—I suppose one could make a case for Nirvana—Radiohead has been on an extended hiatus since A Moon Shaped Pool (2016). The band, it seems, just got tired of the whole thing—new albums, touring, rock music in general. They’ve been tied up in personal tragedies and triumphs. For some time now, it has seemed possible that Radiohead wouldn’t release another album, and, in a sense, that’s still a possibility. However, over the last few years, three of the band’s key members (lead singer Thom Yorke, guitarist/multi-instrumentalist Jonny Greenwood, and longtime producer Nigel Godrich) have been working on new songs, culminating in the release of A Light for Attracting Attention in May 2022. That this material should come to light (no pun intended), albeit under a new band name “The Smile,” was itself surprising. However, even more surprising was the fact that A Light for Attracting Attention is a guitar-driven and, at times, even grungy rock album—a sound that Radiohead had largely eschewed in its most recent work. Just what this development means for the future of Radiohead is hard to say, but I, for one, will take what I can get.
This Is a Photograph by Kevin Morby: I have written about Kevin Morby a couple times in recent years. He is, in my view, the most consistently thoughtful singer-songwriter working today, willing to take on themes ranging from religious faith to the nature of time. He is also prolific. Morby has released eight studio albums since 2013, including a new one already in 2023—Music from Montana Story, a soundtrack to the critically acclaimed film Montana Story (2021). Morby’s 2022 release, This Is a Photograph, is his most complete album since Singing Saw (2016), and in the stomping, blues-infused title track it offers what I’d consider his best song to date. Indeed, This Is a Photograph as a whole speaks to Morby’s interest in the musical history of the Mississippi Delta, though he also shows that he is capable of channeling Appalachian bluegrass (“Bittersweet, TN”) and the folk stylings of Nick Drake (“Goodbye to Good Times”). Pro tip: be sure to listen to the story of how Morby came to write “This Is a Photograph.” It’ll make you appreciate the song even more.
River Fools & Mountain Saints by Ian Noe: It has been said that Ian Noe is the rightful successor to the late John Prine. Amazingly, that comparison does not seem overblown. The two singer-songwriters do bear a resemblance. Both have deep roots in Kentucky: Prine’s parents and extended family hailed from Muhlenberg County in the southwestern corner of the Commonwealth; Noe grew up in tiny Beattyville, about an hour southeast of Lexington. Both are associated with folk music, known for their wry, observant songs about small-town life. Both, finally, possess uncannily familiar voices—plain, more Midwestern than Southern, authentic yet waggish. On River Fools & Mountain Saints, however, Noe does far more than resemble Prine. He takes Prine’s legacy and builds on it. Noe writes beautifully, crafting lyrical tales about the town drunk (“River Fool”), ex-military men trying to hang on (“Tom Barrett,” “Ballad of a Retired Man"), and single mothers eking out a living on guts and guile (“Mountain Saint”). Perhaps most remarkable of all, Noe never uses his characters to peddle hashtags and slogans; they are not ciphers for his own viewpoints but complex, irreducible persons. Still, the album’s sparse musical arrangements, paired with Noe’s expressive voice, urge us to take heed of such lives. For many, the hills, rivers, and coal towns of Kentucky are just “flyover country.” For Noe, it is a land of eschatological significance. As he sings on “Burning Down the Prairie,” now channeling early Bob Dylan as much as Prine:
Burning down the prairie
Got a handful of river cane
Burning down the prairie
Got a handful of river cane
I'm just sitting up on this hillside
Praying to God it doesn't rain
Honorable mention (in no particular order): Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You by Big Thief; Paint This Town by Old Crow Medicine Show; Her Loss by Drake and 21 Savage; The Hometown Kid by Gabe Lee; Welcome 2 Club XIII by Drive-By Truckers; Things Are Great by Band of Horses; Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers by Kendrick Lamar; (watch my moves) by Kurt Vile; Me/And/Dad by Billy Strings.
My Ten Favorite Songs of 2022
“Tippa My Tongue” by Red Hot Chili Peppers: Is this a lost outtake from the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ peak 1990s output? Nope, but you’d be forgiven for thinking so.
“Selfish Soul” by Sudan Archives: Sudan Archives has said that this song is “about women and the celebration of hair.” It’s also a lot of fun, right from the opening bassline.
“Maria’s Awful Disclosures” by Drive-By Truckers: In 1836, a Canadian woman named Maria Monk published a book entitled Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk, or, The Hidden Secrets of a Nun’s Life in a Convent Exposed. It levels grave accusations, claiming, among other things, that the Religieuses Hospitalières de Saint-Joseph, a religious congregation in Montreal, were murdering the offspring of illicit sexual liaisons. Awful Disclosures created a public uproar, dividing Catholics and Protestants in North America, though later the book was revealed to be a total fabrication. Somehow, amazingly, one of the best songwriters of our generation—Mike Cooley of Drive-By Truckers—turns this bygone tale into a warning against the various conspiracy theories that roil our current socio-political environment: “Ghost-written pornography tailored to readers / In need of a righteous excuse to indulge.” And, since it’s Cooley, the song rocks too.
“Starting Over” by Trampled by Turtles: In 2022, Trampled by Turtles released their first album in five years. It’s called Alpenglow, a title borrowed from the optical phenomenon that occurs before sunrise and after sunset on a mountain range, when light is reflected or diffracted by the atmosphere, thereby irradiating the horizon opposite the sun. Fittingly, then, Alpenglow is an album about change and transition—a theme rousingly captured on the album’s fourth single (and best song) “Starting Over.”
“You Will Never Work in Television Again” by The Smile: I’ve seen Radiohead in person twice—first in September 1995 (!) at the Jefferson Civic Center in Birmingham, Alabama (they opened for R.E.M.), second in August 2003 at the Alpine Valley Music Theatre in East Troy, Wisconsin. Both times they brought the house down. “But Radiohead don’t do rock music anymore,” I hear someone sigh. Ahhh…so it seemed. Yet, now performing as The Smile, Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke and guitarist Jonny Greenwood show that dormancy is not incapacity. On “You Will Never Work in Television Again,” Greenwood’s buzzing guitar riff and Yorke’s snarling vocals feverishly channel classic Radiohead tracks “The Bends” (1994) and “Paranoid Android” (1997).
“Lonesome As It Gets” by Ian Noe: Ian Noe is known for his detailed, Prine-like studies of rural American life. “Lonesome As It Gets,” however, shows that he can write the hell out of a breakup song, bypassing “tear in my beer” sentimentality and going straight for the jugular: “And I got drunk on Christmas night / And had an epiphany / Let's end the day in a holy way / And set fire to the Christmas tree.” Yet, while the lyrics are gloomy, the track’s upbeat tempo and sing-along chorus make it almost a protest anthem.
“The Downward Road” by Jake Blount and Demeanor: A gifted folk musician based out of Providence, Rhode Island, Jake Blount’s songs are sprinkled with plenty of banjo and fiddle. Yet, in other respects, he defies what might be considered generic expectations. Once described as “Afrofuturist folklore,” Blount’s music not only seeks to recover the African American folk tradition but to expand on it, incorporating elements of hip hop and poetry. In songs such as “The Downward Road,” the end result is richly fascinating.
“Spitting Off the Edge of the World” by Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Perfume Genius: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs debuted in 2003, and, after the success of Show Your Bones (2006), the band appeared to be on the path to stardom. Yet, they took a hiatus in 2014 and had largely remained out of the public eye until resurfacing with “Spitting Off the Edge of the World” in June 2022. Featuring a pulverizing techno beat and an echoing ambient synthesizer, the song seems to be a gesture of defiance—but at what? Climate change (“Cowards, here’s the sun”)? Perhaps a personal injury ("‘Wounded arms must carry the load’”)? Whatever the case, “Spitting Off the Edge of the World” is the sound of fighting back.
“This Is a Photograph” by Kevin Morby: As I’ve written before, “This Is a Photograph” masterfully blends the ingredients of great songwriting. The opening guitar riff grabs you immediately, though the music deepens as the song goes on, building in layers of organ, percussion, and saxophone. Meanwhile, Morby’s lyrics hit on themes of universal significance, especially the importance of wrenching attention, care, and hope from the ravages of time. You can’t do it better than this.
“N95” by Kendrick Lamar: Kendrick Lamar is the most celebrated rapper of the last decade. As a 2018 profile in Vanity Fair puts it:
Kendrick Lamar has sold more than 17.8 million albums, been nominated for 29 Grammys, and won 12. His work is archived in the library at Harvard University. He’s been described as the poet laureate of hip-hop, perceptive, philosophical, unapologetic, fearless, and an innovative storyteller whose body of work has been compared to James Joyce and James Baldwin. He’s collaborated with—among many others—Jay Z, Eminem, Dr. Dre, Beyoncé, Rihanna, Bono, Pharrell Williams, Jay Rock, and Maroon 5. He writes about being young, black, poor, and gifted in America with a candid self-awareness of who he is, where he’s from, and where he’s been. Musician/producer Pharrell (who worked with Kendrick on the songs “good kid” and “Alright”) had told me, “He’s the Bob Dylan, the Miles Davis of our time, but he’s his own thing.”
More than one commentator has wrestled with Lamar’s embrace of religious imagery: some have likened him to a modern-day prophet; others are not so sure. Myself, I don’t listen to Lamar enough to formulate a defensible opinion on the meaning of his corpus. I know the hit songs (“King Kunta,” “Humble”), and I thought Damn (2017) was a great album. But I’d be reluctant to say much more. Still, when Lamar released his new album Mr. Morale & the Big Stepper in May 2022, I felt obliged to check it out. Much of it didn’t work for me, but the album’s second track (and lead single) “N95” made an immediate yet also lasting impression. The song’s title obviously invokes the now famous “facepiece respirator” recommended by many physicians during the worst phases of the COVID-19 pandemic. Lamar, however, sees something more in these masks. They are, in his rendering, metaphors for a world of lies and inauthenticity—potent symbols of humanity’s digitally-inspired escape from reality. Thus Lamar raps over an increasingly deepening beat, later accented by synth and piano licks:
Take off the foo-foo
Take off the clout chase
Take off the Wi-Fi
Take off the money phone
Take off the car loan
Take off the flex and the white lies
Take off the weird-ass jewelry
I'ma take ten steps
Then I'm takin' off top five
Take off them fabricated streams
And them microwave memes
It's a real world outside (take that shit off)
Take off your idols
Yet, once all of this is removed, what do we see? Alas, it isn’t pretty. Still, Lamar suggests that the path to health does not begin with masks but, instead, with honest vulnerability.
Honorable mention (in no particular order): “Atomized” by Andrew Bird; “Age of Anxiety II (Rabbit Hole)” by Arcade Fire; “Simulation Swarm” by Big Thief; “A Lifetime to Find'“ by Wilco; “Just Wanna Rock” by Lil Uzi Vert; “Legit” by Nas; “Karma” by Taylor Swift; “Transmitter” by Sea Power; “Welcome” by Justin Hurwitz; “Early Morning Rain” by Cleveland Francis; “The Fours” by Makaya McCraven; “Wide Open” by Gabe Lee; “Heavy Eyes” by Zach Bryan.
As requested: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Tbl1Vh9Qh2KK1NoA1foj4?si=u9MrxQ9sTkGuFwq0p59ZZg
It's great fun to read your descriptions, Chris, you've got a rich selection. I've also been a fan of Wilco, I feel like I've got the lyrics to "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" probably all memorized, but many of your selections are entirely new to me. I'm intrigued to check out Jake Blount and also Trampling Turtles. As for Radiohead- yes, no question, worth all the respect. To me there's an aspect of them that leaves me cold, almost as if the passion and brilliance of the musical artistry has something, despite all its apparent depth, that's hollow or even resigned (that's how I feel about both "Idiotechque" and "Fake Plastic Trees" anyway, both of them have a grandeur that's reaching toward something insightful and apocalyptic but that still leaves me hollow because of what seems resigned about them...)