Coda: So, What're the Most Essential Albums of the 2010s?

It's 2020. The 2010s are officially over, and while I would have loved to have finished my Coda series by the beginning of this new decade, alas life and time have caught up to me. (I will still finish it though, don't worry.) That being said, I foresaw that I wouldn't have the Codas finished by the first of January, 2020. So, instead of a finished series, I'm delivering this instead: a master list of the most essential albums from the last ten years. 

I've found the decade-end album lists tiring over the last few months, despite the fact that I've been preparing my own. And that's because writers, critics, and listeners fluctuate between lists that are clearly subjective and lists that claim to be entirely objective. Admittedly, this list is a little bit of both. However, my list has one rule and one premise. The rule is that I chose three albums from every year, for an even spread. That means some really good albums from even better years didn't make the cut (i.e. A Seat at the Table in 2016). The premise, I like to think of like this: if a planet-destroying alien were to come down to Earth and ask me for proof that the 2010s were an amazing decade for music, declaring they would listen to thirty albums from the decade and not a second more, and then decide on the decade's musical merit and the fate of our planet - these would be the thirty albums I'd hand over. Thirty to one, these are - in my own opinion and based on collective reasoning - the most essential, most invaluable, most planet-saving albums from each of the last ten years.

Some of these albums are personal favorites. Though not all. In fact, most of my personal favorite albums from the last ten years didn't make the list (i.e. Surf, HNDRXX, A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships). 

Some of these albums are underrated masterpieces. Some have been awarded "Album of the Year" at the Grammys. Some are heralded as Internet darlings. Some are on the list because of their influence. Some are on the list because of their legacy.

Yet, what each and every album on this list has in common is that they have each earned the title of classic. From industrial hip-hop to country, from garage rock to folktronica, from soul to disco, each album on this list is undeniably a classic. 

And if our planet hinged on the arc of music from the last decade, I'd stand proudly and confidently behind these albums. So without further ado, these are my picks for the thirty most essential albums of the 2010s. 

30. Cults - Cults (2011)

"So rave on, rave on..."

There may not be a more underrated album from the last ten years. This is indie pop at its absolute finest. And because of that, Cults' self-titled debut sneaks its way into the decade's top thirty. I've yet to see this album appear on a single publication's decade-end list of the "best albums." Maybe that should make you skeptical of my taste. I deflect and say it should make you skeptical of theirs. Give it a listen and tell me I'm wrong.

What Brian Oblivion and Madeline Follin are able to do with some upbeat percussion, low-tone guitar rifts, and chirpy vocals is incredible. The subject matter of the album is anything but optimistic. "Bad things happen to the people you love and you'll find yourself praying up to the heaven above," Madeline sings on "Bad Things." "But honestly I've never had much sympathy, cause the next time they'll probably be coming for me."

And then there's a quick change of beat, and the album hops to a piano doo-wop called "Bumper." You can almost see Brian and Madeline singing it as they shimmy towards each other. It's fun. It's catchy. It's a juxtaposition from the moody themes of the prior song, but it isn't out of place. The whole album is like that. It's fun and it's moody. Even "Rave On," the album's final track - a rock ballad about going forward - is somehow worthy of dancing to and tearing up to simultaneously.

The album in its entirety is less than 34 minutes, and every single song competes for the title of Most Fantastic. The project's first two tracks, "Abducted" and "Go Outside," are indie pop perfection, and I really do mean that. Cults steals your heart from the jump and leaves an indelible mark on one's sense of delight and despair. If there's ever been an example of an underappreciated classic, it's Cults. 𝄌

29. Be the Cowboy - Mitski (2018)

"I've been big and small, and big and small, and big and small again."

Mitski may be, not only the best songwriter on this list, but of the decade. She might be the best songwriter of the century. She might be the best songwriter since Bob Dylan. 

These claims might be wild, but I'll be damned if they aren't based.

Mitski is famously shy and awkward. Time and again in interviews, she struggles to find the right words. And yet, if you were to only hear her sing, only hear this album, you would never know that. Her penmanship is poetic, her voice astonishingly profound.

When the needle drops at the beginning of the record, Mitski croons softly, "You're my number one..." As the song plays out, the drums kick, an electric guitar plays radiantly in the background, and Mitski's voice peaks with as much grace as her whisper. And then the song ends just as suddenly as it began, the needle fading into the next track. It's a short 2 minutes and 24 seconds, which somehow on a 14 track album, makes it the fourth longest song. Be the Cowboy's longest song, which is it's final song, clocks in a second shy of four minutes. It's not much of a swan song, but it doesn't need to be.

Mitski's songs are short and sweet. They are designed quite literally not as songs per se, but as poems. One of Be the Cowboy's jewels is "A Horse Named Cold Air." I wish I could tell you what this soft, haunting song is about, but I really can't. Like any good piece of art, it is entirely up for interpretation. So, you decide. Here are its lyrics:

A lake with no fish

Is the heart of a horse

Named Cold Air

Who, when young

Would run like a storm

They would say...

I thought I'd traveled a long way

But I had circled

The same old sin

"A Horse Named Cold Air" isn't an outlier on Be the Cowboy. There are no outliers. Mitski took indie rock, distilled it, refined it, and purified it, leaving us with what's at the heart of music: poetry in motion. And that doesn't make her simply an amazing songwriter; it makes her an amazing artist. 𝄌

28. w h o k i l l - tUnE-yArDs (2011)

"You gonna put that on tape for posterity?"

After I first listened to this album (and then listened again and again and again, actually), I wrote: "On her 2011 album, w h o k i l l, Tune-Yards combined all of my favorite parts of funk, art pop, and noise music and made one of the best albums of all time."

It's a bit of an audacious claim, especially when referencing a genre-bending noise pop album. It is admittedly difficult to listen to at times, but just as I wrote back then, that's "part of its charm." Do you know how hard it must be to make a compelling funk, art pop, noise album? It's pretty much next to impossible. There hasn't been a single album to ever successfully pull it off to the degree that Tune-Yards was able to pull it off in 2011. (Or at least there isn't an album I've found that has.)

Between the horns, the drums, the sirens, the shrieking, the indistinguishable noises, the accented interludes, THE DRUMS, and the general chaos, comes a surprisingly poignant reflection on American politics and society. "My Country," "Bizness," "Doorstep," and"Killa" are not only all awesome, catchy songs, they all make a statement about what it means to live in today's world, as an American, as a woman, as a "victim." (The mastermind behind the Tune-Yards machine, Merrill Garbus, is a graduate of Smith College, so what more could we expect?)

It's the type of album that makes elders shake their heads, "kids these days" style. It's the type of album that makes parents tear their hair out. It's the type of album that turns children into socialists, and yet it has that nugget that all classic albums have.

While completing this project I've come to realize that on every classic album there is a brief moment where everything crystallizes - all of the music, all of the lyrics, all of the themes, everything. Most albums don't have it. These albums do. This one does. It takes the entire album and condenses it down into a small musical nugget. I call it a nugget because it's not always easy to find. You must pan and sift through the music to find it, dust it off, and realize it's musical perfection in a moment. 

On "Doorstep," a high-sung, drum heavy song about police brutality against children, Merrill carries her verses into an interlude of random noises, and when she pulls her beautiful, unfiltered voice out of the interlude, something magical happens: the chaos recedes. It's her voice backed by a small hum and a tambourine, and she sings softly, "Well, I've tried so hard to be a peaceful, loving woman. Oh, I believed that love and understanding were the way..." Her voice rises and the drums come back, and slowly the noise filters back in. The album re-submerges itself into chaos, before ending thirteen minutes later. It's the album's only moment of true clarity, and it highlights the overwhelming musical power of noise and chaos to make a point. 𝄌

27. Lost in the Dream - The War on Drugs (2014)

"I can be bigger than the tones in the moments of suffering."

An album befitting of its cover is a rare thing to come by. Sometimes the music of an album outdoes its cover; more often though, an album cover is better than the album itself. It is nearly impossible to find an album with a cover that matches the mood of the music as well as this one does.

Lost in the Dream is an 80s' rock-inspired reflection on depression, and while I can't believe I'm saying this about the War on Drugs, it's done so well. It's the kind of album that can feel timeless, but when it's finished, all you want to do is restart it. It's slow. It's melancholic. It is the musical equivalent of a downward spiral.

And while that doesn't exactly sound appealing (it isn't), it takes a rare kind of artistry to pull that off. All too often, musicians - rockers especially - will sell themselves short of emotion and go for upbeat, catchy rock songs. That's become increasingly true in the last ten years (looking at you Coldplay). But where most other artists zigged, the War on Drugs zagged. The album's primary songwriter, Adam Granduciel, put his depression down in words. He and his band played through it, and in doing so, they painted a portrait of suffering.

It is by no means the best rock album of the last ten years, and it is far from the happiest or most joyful or most fun to listen to, but I'd dare say it may be the most human. We are social creatures, but deep inside of us we carry an incredible capacity for loneliness. How do we answer for that? How do we overcome that? We do what no other creature can do nearly as well: we tell stories.

The War on Drugs are storytellers, and this story carries us to the bottom of our humanity on the sweet strums of music's most beloved genre. 𝄌

26. The Suburbs - Arcade Fire (2010)

"I'm moving past the feeling."

The Suburbs is an American classic. Like apple pie and Westerns.

The 16 track, indie rock concept album about suburbia, adulthood, parenting, childhood, working, and the life we try to manage in between is damn near cinematic. In fact, a short film was released alongside the album, and it makes sense. It's not quite The Wall - nothing is - but it might be the closest thing to The Wall we've seen this century. Though it's a little more up-tempo than Pink Floyd's own masterpiece, it's clear that stylistically Arcade Fire was drawing water from the same well.

And just like The Wall, what's interesting about The Suburbs is how many of its songs can be detached from the overall concept album and listened to on their own. It's a sign of strong songwriting when one can weave songs one after another into a broader tapestry; it's a stroke of genius when you can remove a patch from that quilt and still admire it for its own internal complexities. "The Suburbs" (the title track), "Ready to Start," "Modern Man," "Suburban War," and "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)" are all concept albums in and of themselves. In each song, the album as a whole is refracted, creating a kaleidoscopic and all-encompassing sonic environment, like light being reflected through a crystal. (Remind you of any other Floyd album?)

This is an album made to be listened to on vinyl. You can just tell. It's one of those albums that should have been released in 1970, but could only have been made in 2010. Hindsight, fifty years removed from the height of suburbia for example, was necessary to craft such a masterful reflection on the cookie-cutter capitalist machine at the heart of American life. 

I doubt very much my children will understand the appeal of The Suburbs. I doubt very much my children will really know what the suburbs even are. Though we have begun deconstructing them (as we have malls, and shopping centers, and even taxi services), this rock album stands as a testament to wholly American systems and unholy American values that once kept most of us hostage in a life not entirely our own. And that makes it an American classic.

25. DAMN. - Kendrick Lamar (2017)

"I'm willing to die for this shit."

When King Kendrick drops an album, it's immediately the most important news of the day. When DAMN. dropped in April of 2017 almost everyone I knew pushed their morning plans aside to listen to the project. I know I did. That's probably the reason it was Kendrick's first album to go double-platinum. Because when the King speaks, we listen.

DAMN. is different than any other Kendrick Lamar album. It isn't focused on his city, it isn't focused on his race (although both clearly play a large role in defining the themes of this concept album). Instead, Kendrick comes back down to Earth, and explores a more human narrative. It's a story of a man who is killed while walking in the park, and Kendrick explores all of the feelings that come with living one's life and feeling it end (pride, fear, lust, love, etc.). It's mythical in scope, and honestly I'd need a line-by-line breakdown of the album's lyrics to fully comprehend how Lamar spins such a story.

But since I can't do that here, I'll talk about the album in a more general sense. First, it must be noted, that DAMN. is far from Kendrick's best album. And yet, despite that fact, this album was the first non-jazz or classical album to win the Pulitzer Prize for Music. So, you know, game respect game. It isn't like old white men to recognize that the closest thing to Shakespeare this generation has is a black, hip-hop artist from Compton, but they did anyway. There is simply no denying the man's talent.

It almost feels boring how good of a lyricist Kendrick is on this album. For anyone familiar with his discography, it's come to be expected. When he snaps heads off on "DNA" it can begin to feel like an afterthought. When he bookends his story with such complex lyrics the album can be listened to backwards, we damn near take it for granted. Of course, listeners will endlessly stream "HUMBLE," "LOVE," and "LOYALTY," but how often do they really sit down and appreciate that once again Kendrick was able to make palatable a level of lyricism and storytelling this genre has never seen. 

We have become spoiled by Kendrick Lamar. Even when he isn't at his peak, creating something genius is still just a walk in the park. 𝄌

24. Run the Jewels 2 - Run the Jewels (2014)

"Fuck the slow mo."

When Killer Mike and El-P teamed up for their second album as Run the Jewels, they must have known they were making something dangerous. 

I like to imagine that this album wasn't created in a studio; that, instead, it was created as Mike and El stood over a cauldron in a decrepit haunted house. Inside that cauldron are Danny Brown lyrics, Death Grips rage, classic 2000s hip-hop hooks, gangsta rap beats, and an endless supply of news clippings about slavery, rape, pornography, violence, drugs, police brutality, racism, and economic degradation. They stirred all those together and produced the grittiest, most fast-paced, and most socially conscious rap album of the last ten years.

You don't just listen to this album. You strap in. You buckle up. You hold on for dear life. El-P's beats are unforgiving in their pace and gravity. Killer Mike's lyrics are murderous and merciless. At first, Run the Jewels 2 might just sound like two guys rapping about their egos, but pretty quickly you realize that that isn't actually what the album is about. After the intro track, comes "Oh My Darling Don't Cry," "Blockbuster Night Pt. 1," and "Close Your Eyes (And Count to Fuck)," three songs that move you from the realm of ego, to the front lines of the next American civil war. They're loud. They're political. They are otherworldly.

From there on, the album doesn't slow down. The slowest song on the album, "Early," is an angry, sorrowful song about police brutality and the prison industrial complex. In a decade where politics seemed to divide every facet of our lives, Run the Jewels were able to fit a college course's worth of political science lessons into a raging conscious hip-hop album. We are all just crash test dummies in their unwieldy car of anger management and education. It's a dangerous place to be, but it sure makes for an amazing album. 𝄌

23. Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit - Courtney Barnett (2015)

"Put me on a pedestal and I'll only disappoint you."

This is technically an indie rock album, but really it's a comedy album. As much as Father John Misty would like to have the market on witty, humorous lyricism cornered, the fact is that Australian rock goddess Courtney Barnett writes some of the funniest and most profoundly personal lyrics in music.

Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit is chalk full of alliterative lines doubling as jokes and life lessons. On "Aqua Profunda!" Courtney sings about falling in love with someone swimming next to her, even though she doesn't know what they look like, and nearly drowns herself to impress them. On "Depreston," the album's nugget, she sings softly over her guitar about buying a "deceased estate," a veiled analogy for mortality. Each song on the album is a different story, all of which contain grains of truth and more than a few lessons on getting by. The opening track is about a wanna-be elevator operator who isn't quite suicidal, but definitely doesn't want to be around anymore. Later in the album, Courtney's giving advice to someone who wants to go out and party but doesn't want to leave home - the song is titled "Nobody Really Cares If You Don't Go to the Party."

Like so many others, I come back to this album time and again simply to smile. She's funny. It's a clever album. It makes me laugh. And yet, through the laughter, there are moments that make me tear up. The album is a sad clown, crying behind the mask. "I love all your ideas," Courtney sighs on the final song. "You love the idea of me." It's a not-so-rare moment of emotional vulnerability on an indie rock album masquerading as a series of one-liners.

Leave her on a stool, but strip her of her guitar, and Courtney Barnett would still entertain the crowd with the same witty jokes she could sing. But give her a guitar, and you might find that you'll learn a thing or two about yourself while you laugh. 𝄌

22. WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO? - Billie Eilish (2019)

"Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me? When we all fall asleep, where do we go?"

If you ever wondered what the future of pop would sound like, look no further than Billie Eilish. Billie, born after 9/11, is a far cry from the women who carried pop before her: Madonna, Whitney, Mariah, Brittney. She's darker. She doesn't want the fame, she doesn't want the glitz, she doesn't want the glamour. At times, she openly questions whether or not she even wants to be alive. And that darkness is what carried WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO? from being a fringe avant-pop album to one of the biggest releases of the decade.

Billie, who bleeds from her eyes in her videos, is a rebel. She stripped pop of its flair and turned towards a more industrial, Travis Scott, Yeezus style. The album's most upbeat songs, "bad guy," "you should see me in a crown," and "bury a friend" are all backed by muted drum beats. That's it. All of them employ heavy industrial sounds, beat changes, and auto-tune. They sound nothing like the pop artists of this decade: Robyn, Gaga, Katy Perry, Taylor Swift. Billie isn't a contemporary pop artist. She's the future of music.

And I hope that doesn't worry you. It shouldn't. Underneath the auto-tune, behind the avant-garde stylings, behind the Office skits, is a masterpiece. Even as a teenager, Billie Eilish has one of the best voices in music, and with her brother, FINNEAS, by her side as her producer, she's sure to use it for decades to come. "i love you" is a soft-spoken power ballad that highlights just how far Billie can fly when she lets herself. "when the party's over" and "xanny" haunt you in ways few other songs have in mainstream music this century. "wish you were gay" is muted pop perfection. 

Say what you will about handing the reins of pop over to a teenager, but we don't have much of a choice. Billie is already pulling the strings from the darkness above. 𝄌

21. 1989 - Taylor Swift (2014)

"I got that red lip, classic thing that you like."

Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking if the alien decided not to destroy our planet at #30 or #28 or #24, they surely would now. You're thinking, "Nah Todd. You fucked up. This is wrong." To which I say, "No. This is Taylor Swift."

Now, I've written it before and I firmly stand by it, but Taylor Swift is nothing more than a product. She is packaged and distributed and consumed the world over, more than just about any other artist of the last ten years. And yet, in all of that branding and consumerism and production, she managed to squeak out an album that's not only worthy of praise, but of being called a classic.

Yes, it's sugar pop. I'll give you that. But it's sugar pop at its peak. "Clean," "How You Get the Girl," and "All You Had to Do Was Stay" are all A-grade pop songs. "Style," "Blank Space," and "Bad Blood" are all A+ pop songs. And "Out of the Woods," "Shake It Off," and "Wildest Dreams" are all A++ pop songs.

And we can't talk about the last decade of music without talking about pop, because it was everywhere, especially this particular brand of Tay-Tay. 1989 was coherent in a way that Red wasn't, excellent in a way reputation wouldn't be, and honest in a way I'll never believe Lover to be. Yes, it sounds like music for children (and in many ways it is), but more than that - it can bring us back to our childhood.

Deep down, we still want to look at love and lust and fame and imagine it's still all good and glitzy and glamorous, the way we did when we were children with dreams of one day being famous. Hopefully, somewhere inside that planet-destroying alien is a starstruck child who just wants to dance too. 𝄌

20. good kid, m.A.A.d city - Kendrick Lamar (2012)

"Kendrick, a.k.a. 'Compton's Human Sacrifice.'"

In my Coda series I described this album about as well as I'll ever be able. I compared Kendrick's artistry to that of the great Renaissance artists, the portrait he paints being worthy of a cathedral ceiling. Fortunately for us, Kendrick Lamar is not a painter. He's a musician, and as such, we are able to access his art any- and everywhere.

We need not look up at a ceiling, instead simply put in our headphones or turn on our speakers, and get immediately transported to the streets of Compton that Kid Kendrick grew up on. Despite being based on his experiences, this isn't an album about Lamar's personal life. Instead, it's about the community that raised him: family, friends, gangs, and otherwise. 

"Swimming Pools (Drank)" and "The Art of Peer Pressure" address the people that shaped Kendrick growing up. He raps about alcoholism and gangbanging unlike any other Compton rapper before him, not glamorizing it but instead glaring at its destruction. On "Compton" and "m.A.A.d city" he raps gloriously about the very city that raised him. And on "Bitch Don't Kill My Vibe" and "Sing About Me, I'm Dying of Thirst" he turns the spotlight back on himself. It's a complex narrative of becoming what you are raised by, raised around, and raised within.

And like any project done by Kendrick, it is done on a masterful level. Lamar knows how to balance his own genius lyricism with classic hip-hop beats and carefully curated features from artists like Jay Rock, Dr. Dre, and Drake. But unlike nearly any other Kendrick album, this one Kendrick came at the world as an underdog. He wasn't famous yet. His only project of note before this was Section.80, but that didn't bring him to the world like this album did.

good kid, m.A.A.d city was Kendrick's ode to the community that forged him, and therefore helped his dreams come true. Never again would Kendrick Lamar get the opportunity to paint that cathedral ceiling uninterrupted. Because after this, there was no turning down the lights on the genius of the kid from Compton. 𝄌

19. In Colour - Jamie xx (2015)

"I have never reached such heights."

It took nearly six years for Jamie xx to release his first and only album, but when it dropped in 2015 it shook the music world.

Combining elements of hard house and future garage, Jamie was able to create one of the greatest electronica albums of all time (and certainly the best of the decade). It was immediately praised for its infectious beats. As an album it swings from moody electronic power ballads to dazzling uptempo dance tracks. It explores every color of the electronic rainbow, showing the dizzying heights a single producer can carry the genre into.

Oh and, I can't stress this enough, it has Young Thug on it! "I Know There's Gonna Be (Good Times)" is a dancehall masterpiece with Thugger and Popcaan. The only way for Jamie xx to top In Colour is to produce an entire funk/dancehall album with Young Thug and Popcaan. (I know, that's very audacious of me but it would just be so amazing.) And since that will never happen, I don't know if In Colour can ever be topped. "Gosh," "Loud Places," and "Girl" all exemplify how powerful a producer and DJ Jamie xx is. He clearly doesn't need Young Thug or Popcaan, though both are absolute blessings.

In Colour might just be Jamie xx's only masterpiece (it certainly is as of right now). However, Jamie may never need another masterpiece, since five years later he's still riding the waves of this splash. Or maybe he's spent the last half-decade preparing something even more momentous. Maybe a Young Thug - Popcaan album?? 𝄌

18. Ctrl - SZA (2017)

"Am I warm enough for ya?"

If you hadn't heard of SZA before 2017 you could be forgiven. Her first three EPs, See.SZA.Run, S, and Z, were praiseworthy but not exactly the type of projects that skyrocket a budding R&B singer into the limelight. But Ctrl, well that was different. It shot SZA beyond the limelight, into the decade's R&B pantheon with Rihanna and Beyoncé.

From start to finish, Ctrl is one of the most sex-positive albums ever created. SZA croons softly about everything from her heart to her pussy. And she doesn't wait on it. The first four tracks - "Supermodel," "Love Galore," "Doves in the Wind," and "Drew Barrymore" - are not only all amazing R&B songs, they're more open about women's bodies and sex drives than any other four R&B songs I can think of. 

The last decade has seen an incredible rise in female autonomy in music - no where is that clearer than on Ctrl. And you know what? That's not even the best thing about the album. It sounds incredibly obvious, but the best thing about SZA's debut album is the music. It's just so well done. Her voice could melt metal. Her instrumentation is classic R&B, mixed with a touch of hip-hop. She balances solo songs with a mix of highly coveted features from Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott, and Isaiah Rashad. (Oh, and before I forget - "Broken Clocks" is a dark horse pick for the best song on the album.)

The fact of the matter is there aren't really any words that are going to do justice to this album or the meteoric rise it sent SZA on. So forgive me if I give up on trying and just listen to it instead. 𝄌

17. Yeezus - Kanye West (2013)

"I am a God."

It wasn't that long ago that I was writing about why this was my least favorite Kanye West album. I crucified this album for its lyrics making only about half of the album listenable. I talked about how it was such a change of pace from the Kanye the world had come to revere. But as he says on the record, "Soon as they like you, make em un-like you. Cause kissin' people ass is so unlike you." While that line could be on just about any Ye record, musically Yeezus was a 180 for the rapper. Now watch as I make my own 180.

This is still one of my least favorite Kanye albums, but I'll be damned if it isn't one of the most influential, most monumental, most highly regarded, most essential albums of the last ten years. Produced by Kanye with help from Mike Dean, Arca, Bon Iver, Daft Punk, Travis Scott, and Rick Rubin (the late and great Johnny Cash's producer), Yeezus is a testament to industrial, minimalist hip-hop. There isn't a single natural instrument on the entire project. Every sound is a siren, every drum kick a beat drop, every guitar rift modified by layers of auto-tune. Yeezus is, in all its beauty, unnatural. 

And while its lyrical matter is often lacking (i.e. "Eatin' Asian pussy, all I need was sweet and sour sauce"), there are times when Yeezy reminds you he never left his peak. "Black Skinhead" and "Hold My Liquor" are lyrically masterful, for example. The second verse on "New Slaves" is ungodly and Frank Ocean's outro is divine. Throughout the album, Kanye orchestrates a cacophony of amazing features from Frank, Kid Cudi, Chief Keef, Assassin, Bon Iver, and Nina Simone. Oh, and the entirety of "Blood on the Leaves" is musical perfection. Even the album's bookends ("On Sight" and "Bound 2") feature some of Kayne's silliest and most iconic lines, despite being objectively bad songs.

But the real reason I've 180ed on this album, the real reason it's number seventeen on the list of the most essential albums of the last decade, is because of its production. It might be the most influential hip-hop project since the release of Carter III or 808s & Heartbreak. The influence of Yeezus is everywhere. You can see it on Billie Eilish's WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?, Travis Scott's Astroworld, and Taylor Swift's reputation, to name but a few of the biggest releases in the last few years. Rick Rubin, who stripped Yeezus down to its barest bones, has become a major hip-hop producer and sought after musical guru. Yeezus may have represented a step back from Kanye the Rapper, but it was a major leap forward for Kanye the Producer.

And, despite my own personal taste, that makes it a classic. 𝄌

16. IGOR - Tyler, the Creator (2019)

"Exactly what you run from, you end up chasing."

After years of being a social outcast - the possibly queer guy who's just so fucking weird it's impossible to tell, the dude who "got famous" for eating a cockroach in a music video, the rebel so outrageous he was legally banned from the United Kingdom and Australia - Tyler, the Creator, one of hip-hop's weirdest children, did something stranger than anything before: he changed.

His previous project, Flower Boy, was already a change of pace from the riotous Tyler the world had come to know, but it wasn't until 2019's IGOR that Tyler completed his transformation from a musical psychopath to a treasure to be protected at all costs. IGOR is soft around the edges and wholesome at its core. It's a concept album about falling in love with a guy (turns out he is queer after all), struggling with revealing your sexuality and growing, then falling out of love, and ultimately the questions heartbreak tend to leave in ourselves and with our significant others.

It's a beautiful, yet sadly familiar, tale. Tyler, evidently, didn't make this album for provocation; he made it for catharsis. IGOR battles between being a hip-hop album and being a funk album. In the end it is both. Many songs feature no rapping from Tyler, like "EARFQUAKE," one of the best on the album. Other's are more hip-hop than funk, like "WHAT'S GOOD," but none escape the infectious beats and musicality entirely created by Tyler. And I do mean entirely. IGOR was the first album to go #1 entirely written, arranged, and produced by a single person. Tyler is a creator, after all. 

For all these years Tyler ran away from maturity. He relished in being an indestructible punk. But then his heart was broken, and the punk grew up. IGOR is that. The last tracks on the album - "GONE GONE / THANK YOU," "I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE," and "ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?" -  are watching Tyler grow up in real time. Going into IGOR, you'd be right to assume Tyler is that same old punk he's always been. But by the end of the album we are with Tyler as he is now. 

Heartbroken, curious, nostalgic, broken, matured. 𝄌

15. Dirty Computer - Janelle Monáe (2018)

"Let the vagina have a monologue."

What does one do after they've made a trilogy of successfully intertwined concept albums, started their own music label, and appeared in multiple Oscar winning movies, such as Moonlight and Hidden Figures? Well, as it turns out, one releases a solo project inspired by the past to highlight the femininity and sexuality of the future.

Working with Stevie Wonder and Prince before his death, Janelle Monáe was able to channel the influences of her predecessors to make one of the decade's most critically acclaimed and genre-defying albums. Dirty Computer floats between pop, funk, hip-hop, R&B, neo-soul. It has features from Stevie Wonder, the Beach Boys' Brian Wilson, and art-pop goddess, Grimes. Janelle manages to pull out a completely cohesive concept album without getting pinned down to one genre. 

And just as much as Dirty Computer isn't pinned down, neither is she. Throughout the entire album, Janelle relishes in her newly public sexuality (pan. <3) and femininity. It's simultaneously sexual and political. She takes just as many shots at Trump and the people who put him in office, as she makes boasts about her own self-esteem, self image, and self love. 

There isn't a single song on the album that doesn't just exude confidence. "I Like That," "Make Me Feel," and "Screwed" are all A+ confidence builders. Unfortunately I was doing a lot of running when this album came out, and I'll tell you the only upside of all that working out was that this album absolutely got my blood pumping. Especially the track "Django Jane," arguably one of the best rap songs of 2018.

Although Prince never got to see this album come to fruition (in a very literal sense, neither did Stevie Wonder), I'm beyond positive that he would have been proud of how the last project he worked on turned out. It's a testament to the strength women showed in 2018, and it will forever live on as Janelle Monáe's crown jewel. 𝄌

14. 22, A Million - Bon Iver (2016)

"The days have no numbers."

If ever there was a measure of my objectivity it's the placement of 22, A Million at #14 rather than #4. Bon Iver's third album - a genreless project best described as folktronica - is, not only a classic, but one of my favorite albums. Of all time. 

It took Justin Vernon, the creative genius behind Bon Iver, half a decade to create this masterwork: a ten-track album that processes every traumatic human emotion in the most impersonal of ways. Hieroglyphic lyrics and heavily processed acoustics, mixed with heartbreaking emotional vulnerability, submerge listeners in a soundscape so raw and complex, it begins to resemble more the human psyche than a musical composition.

I've listened to this project probably a hundred times, through and through, and I can't say with certainty that I totally understand it. What's always been the genius of Bon Iver is that they make music that you can relate to on a human level without being able to pick it apart and analyze it. And on 22, A Million, they elevate that to their highest level. In reality, it's hardly music at that point. It's emotion. It can be felt, but it can't quite be understood. Not totally.

I talk about this album on a general level not because I can't analyze it track by track, but because I don't want to. Yes, I love some tracks more than others (obviously). Some even made my Top 100. It's not exactly a concept album, not in the way that The Suburbs is per se. Its ten songs don't follow a thematic structure in the normal sense of the word, but they do tell a story nonetheless. Imagine it's like therapy. In therapy you talk about everything, from your recent work disputes, to quarrels with your loved ones, to deep-seated traumas, to generational abuse. You're telling a story not with plot but with emotion.

That's 22, A Million. It transcends storytelling. It transcends music. It rests solely on emotion and the therapy that provides. 𝄌

13. Brothers - The Black Keys (2010)

"Let me be your everlasting light."

By the end of the 2000s, there was an industry wide concern that rock music would become something of a fad. There was a fear that it would die out after a decade where pop (and rap too) really began to put the final nails in the genre's coffin. But then, in 2010, in walks Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney (a.k.a. The Black Keys) with Danger Mouse in tow (the producer and one-half of critically acclaimed neo-soul/hip-hop duo, Gnarls Barkley). And with one album, rock n' roll was saved.

Okay, so maybe that's a slight over exaggeration. The Black Keys didn't save rock. Rock is still unfortunately on the decline. But they did make the genre's death a little bit sweeter. Brothers, despite being the Keys' sixth album, was the band's breakout, and for good reason. It's absolutely brilliant.

Brothers has all of the elements of a classic rock album. It has studio production with a garage feel. The quality is masterful, sure, but there's no escaping the roooooocky guitar and drums. (That's rocky as in "rocky road" as said by Sloth in the Goonies, just in case you were wondering.) "Next Girl," "Howlin' For You," and "Black Mud" are all heavy on the instrumentation in a way that rock n' roll has largely lost. And like any good rock album, the songs go from ignorantly gleeful to gloom and doom on the drop of a dime. While "Everlasting Light" and "Tighten Up" are more Led Zeppelin, "The Go Getter," "Too Afraid to Love You," and "Unknown Brother" have the moodiness of Led Zeppelin IV.

The fact is - Brothers may be one of the most underrated albums of the last ten years, the best rock n' roll album of the last ten years, and the least musically reminiscent of the last ten years. All three, simultaneously. It works just as well in 2020 as it did in 2010, and in 2010 it worked just as well as it would have in 1970 or 1980. Now, that doesn't make Brothers rock's savior. But it certainly makes it into the Rock Pantheon. 𝄌

12. Random Access Memories - Daft Punk (2013)

"You've given me too much to feel."

If you'd told me ten years ago that a disco album would be one of the best albums of the next decade, I'd have laughed in your face. If you'd told me it would be done by Daft Punk, who hadn't released a good project in almost a decade, I probably would've taken a knee laughing. And if you told me that after a 74 minute run time, all I'd want to do was restart it, I would've passed out crying.

And yet here we are. Random Access Memories, the ghost of disco future, yanked me off the floor, slapped the tears out of my eyes, and got me dancing. 

What Daft Punk was able to accomplish in 2013 is nothing short of a miracle. Not only was 2013 a fantastic year for all music, it was an especially great year for electronica music, of which Random Access Memories is certainly the king. Daft Punk put every lesson they'd learned since the mid-90s and created one of the all-time great electronic dance albums. In a year where EDM groups The Knife and Disclosure both put out excellent albums, Daft Punk outshone their contemporaries by reviving a long dead music genre with a modern electronic twist.

Every single track on Random Access Memories deserves to live on forever. "Give Life Back to Music" and "Doin' It Right" would be the best songs on any other Daft Punk project, and yet they often get overlooked on such a stacked album like this one. "Lose Yourself to Dance," "Touch," and "Get Lucky" may be the best three song stretch on any album in this list (apologies for not including them in that blog years ago). Pharrell Williams, who contributes vocals on both the first and last song in that triad, may have immortalized himself on someone else's album simply by virtue of how good Daft Punk's production behind his vocals is. In startling fashion, Daft Punk made an album where every track, every beat, every lyric, would go down in history as the hallmark for an entire genre. 

And while ten years ago that idea seemed laughable, looking back now, it's undeniable. 𝄌

11. 21 - Adele (2011)

"Don't you remember the reason you loved me?"

Y'all I'm not even going to try on this album. My opinion will never do this album justice. It is so beyond spectacular that the words actually fall away from me. So, instead, here are the objective measures of its success:

• Awarded "Album of the Year" at the Grammys.
•  Five of the album's eleven songs were released as singles, of which three went #1 ("Rolling in the Deep," "Set Fire to the Rain," and "Someone Like You").
• Globally best selling album of both 2011 and 2012.
• In the United Kingdom, this soul album is the best selling album of the century and fourth of all time.
• In both the U.K. and the United States, 21 held the #1 spot on the charts longer than any other album made by a woman (and the longest of any artist since 1985).
• It went #1 in more than 30 countries.
• Certified diamond by the RIAA.
• Has over 400 certifications globally, making it the most awarded album in the history of music.

I'll just repeat that last one, so read it slower: 21, Adele's 2011 soul album, is the Most Awarded Album in the History of Music. 

And with that, you're probably wondering why I've made it #11. How could I push it out of the 2010's top ten? Although 21 is nothing short of a masterpiece, each album to come is nothing short of divine. And while that difference is vague - it makes a difference. So here they are: the top ten most essential albums of the last decade. 𝄌

10. Acid Rap - Chance the Rapper (2013)

"Acid on the face, that's a work of art."

Before you freak out that I've listed Chance the Rapper's seminal mixtape over Adele's 21 (or any other album for that matter), please remember two things: first of all, this is like my favorite album ever. Second of all, this album changed music on a fundamental level (and you might not even have realized it).

Acid Rap is the only project on this list that you can listen to totally for free. No strings attached. Just look it up. It's on YouTube. It's on DatPiff. It's on SoundCloud. It's on Apple Music. It's on Spotify. In 2013, mixtapes (a category Acid Rap technically falls into) were largely considered un-artistic. They were seen as free compilations of tracks cut from full-length hip-hop albums meant to promote the actual product. Acid Rap was different. It wasn't promoting a larger product. It was the product. Chance wasn't just releasing something. He was dropping an album. A free album.

My man didn't want to sell it. In Chance's world, music should be free. And you know what? He's right. And pretty soon the rest of the music industry recognized that. His next album (which also is technically a mixtape), Coloring Book, became the first free album to win Grammy Awards in a category for free projects created specifically because of Chance's influence. But if the influence of Acid Rap isn't enough to make it one of the most essential albums of the 2010s, the music is.

It is by far and away one of the best hip-hop albums of the last ten years. The production, sampling from a compendium of other R&B and rap songs and backed by Chance's band, The Social Experiment, is fantastically jazzy. The lyrics are legendary, especially some of the album's guest verses from Twista, Vic Mensa, Childish Gambino, and Noname. All in all, Chano's mixtape is a testament to a certain brand of youth. 

The album weaves from timeless songs about growing up in the violent hoods ("Acid Rain" and "Paranoia") to touching love songs ("Interlude" and "Lost"). It bounces from fun songs like "Chain Smoker" and "Favorite Song" to drug-laced, rebellious songs like "Good Ass Intro," "Cocoa Butter Kisses," and "Juice." As the album plays out, Chance raps a tale of youth. Not since Kanye's The College Dropout has an entire generation been captured in such a singular piece of music.

Before his last verse on the tape's last track, "Everything's Good (Good Ass Outro)," Chance speaks candidly into the microphone. "Thanks for coming guys," he says with glee, wholly unaware that it's we who should be thanking him for delivering a sermon of youth for free. So, thank you Chance. 𝄌

9. channel ORANGE - Frank Ocean (2012)

"My TV ain't HD, that's too real."

Poets, scribes, and playwrights have been trying to put the delicacy of first love into words for centuries. Yet, young love transcends the confines of language. That has, however, never stopped those artists from trying, thank goodness. Shakespeare, Austen, Angelou, Ocean.

channel ORANGE might be the finest attempt at trapping first love we've seen in the last decade. Truthfully, it might be one of the best attempts ever pressed on to vinyl. An R&B concept album about a young man flipping through the television channels of life - money, drugs, sex, and, most importantly, love - channel ORANGE is a rare piece of art. It doesn't just do its best to capture a fleeting emotion, it redirects that feeling back into our ears.

Using love, by far the most powerful emotion, Frank Ocean pulls us back to our first real tastes of life. "Thinkin Bout You," "Lost," and "Bad Religion" are all soulful tracks about an unrequited early love. And, like any virtuoso, Frank doesn't make his art one-note. He gives wealth the same nostalgic treatment on "Super Rich Kids" and drugs a sense of sorrow on "Crack Rock." All of this, each channel, combines to form a complex portrait of a youth not so long gone.

But the most important channel, the gem at the middle of this entire album, is "Pyramids." The ten minute tribute to Cleopatra is more than a reflection of true love, it's a fucking masterpiece. channel ORANGE is built around this climactic piece. Each flip of the channel, each R&B song about a different aspect of a bygone youth, each feature (whether its John Mayer, Earl Sweatshirt, or André 3000), all of it "Start" to "End," is built with "Pyramids" at its core. And that's powerful. Maybe it's also why I found my mom listening to it alone in her car just yesterday.

channel ORANGE is a masterpiece, not because of what it accomplishes (painting a kaleidoscopic portrait of nostalgia), but in what it attempts to do: the surreal and improbable task of capturing young love in an instant. 𝄌

8. Norman Fucking Rockwell! - Lana del Rey (2019)

"So I moved to California, but it's just a state of mind."

Lana del Rey can sing anything. Of that I am sure. I need no further proof than the first line off Lana's latest, brightest, and best album, Norman Fucking Rockwell! Here's the line: "Goddamn, man-child, you fucked me so good that I almost said, 'I love you.'" 

The line, though bold, is delivered in such an understated way, you're more likely to think you misheard it than have caught it the first time around. And that's because, like everything she sings, Lana del Rey is able to deliver it with a seductive whisper in a tone that hangs in the air like smoke after sex. Her entire career is built off of this vocal trick, and no where does it work better than on this album. Jaded ("Kanye West is blond and gone"), in love with a place that's burning ("L.A. is in flames, it's getting hot"), and seemingly forever alone ("I miss Long Beach and I miss you, babe"), Lana del Rey opens up like never before. (Oh, and all those lyrics are from the same song.) She lets us into the Beverley Hills mansion that is her heart, just for us to take a look around and realize it is completely unfurnished. Its only occupant, Lana herself.

On most soft rock ballads, the singer is trying to come to grips with their lover. But on Norman Fucking Rockwell!, a soft rock ballad that just happens to be 67 minutes long, Lana is actually reckoning with her own emotional vulnerabilities and loving herself. No wonder the album cover features her reaching towards outwards, while still halfway wrapped around a man who couldn't look less interested.

This entire album is a testament to what one must do to get through the tough times, to putting one's self first, to sitting atop one's own pedestal. From the very first line Lana is struggling to put herself before the man she loves, if not a universal feeling then at least a relatable one. She struggles with knowing she "fucked up," and then later admitting that regardless of what she says she still loves him. Nearing the end of the rock ballad album, she faces the "greatest loss of them all," knowing she has lost the man and ultimately the veil that covered her internal problems. She asks mournfully, "If he's a serial killer, then what's the worst that can happen to a girl who's already hurt?" 

(Do I need to keep providing examples that there isn't a line she can't sing? Okay, well here's one more for good measure.)

What might be one of the most powerful juxtapositions in modern-day music is the last line on the album: "Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have. But I have it."

Lana whispers these last few lines, as she always does.

"Yeah, I have it. Yeah, I have it. I have it..." 𝄌

7. Golden Hour - Kacey Musgraves (2018)

"Places that you can't see coming through the melody when the night bird sings."

Despite how much I love the album, when the Grammys awarded Best Album of the Year to The Suburbs in 2011, they got it wrong. It marked the beginning of what would be a truly horrendous decade for the music awards circuit. In the years to come, the Grammys arguably only got in right in 2012 and 2014. In '13 channel ORANGE was snubbed, and 2015 was a wash from the nominations. '16, '17, and '18 were so monumentally wrong that when Adele won album of the year in 2017 she laid into the committee for choosing the wrong artist yet again. After 2018, I'd all but given up hope that the Grammys would get with the times and begin awarding relevant, forward-thinking artists.

Then the 2019 Grammy Awards happened. And they named Golden Hour by Kacey Musgraves album of the year. I was shocked. Not only is Golden Hour a COUNTRY album (in 2018?!), but the Grammys got it right!

Golden Hour is the best album of 2018, without a doubt in my mind. It's also, and I can't stress this enough, the best country album of the last ten years. Sure, Kacey sings about all the normal, clichéd shit - love, nature, cowboys, horses, trucks - but this time it's different. On Golden Hour it's actually perfect. Her voice is so smooth you don't even realize she's singing about Silverados and Graceland. And her ability to craft a sweet love song is so madly underrated.

"Mother," "Golden Hour," and "Rainbow" all possess that special quality that make eyes well up in a classic country way. And "Velvet Elvis," "High Horse," and "Oh, What A World" all possess the rock, pop, and electronica elements that even country music is streaking towards. I mean on what other country album is there gonna be a line about making your grandma cry when you pierce your nose? Or Daft Punk vocals and banjo instrumentation on the same song?? 

Kacey is the future of country music, and Golden Hour proved that she can change the genre without losing what's always been at the core of country: lovin' and muddin'. 𝄌

6. The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver of the Screw and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do - Fiona Apple (2012)

"Nothing wrong when a song ends in a minor key."

We're at the point in the list now where I could reasonably say, "The first eleven songs on this album might be the best eleven songs in a row on any album" and you wouldn't be surprised. There are, in fact, only eleven songs on this album.

(Don't worry the award for the best eleven songs in a row on any album actually goes Rumours, as it is also eleven songs and each one is more perfect than the last. But I digress...)

The Idler Wheel..., though a fantastic contender for that not-at-all-arbitrary award, is so much more than that. Fiona Apple's only project of the decade turned out to be an art pop classic deserving of its incredibly long title. The amount of musicality Fiona fits into such minimal instrumentation would make Joanna Newsom shout with glee. (I'm not convinced Joanna did not shout with glee when she first heard this album.) Seriously, most of the songs on this album are like three piano cords slowly pressed over and over, sometimes with drums on top, sometimes with nothing more than Fiona's screaming vocals.

And lets talk about that scream, cause good lord is it moving. "Regret" and "Daredevil" capture this particular version of Fiona's voice the best. She goes from subdued and lovely to primal in a matter of seconds, and then right back again. It's startling in its beauty. Fiona Apple also has the same ability to sing any line that Lana del Rey has. She can call her lover a "UFC rookie" or tell him she made a meal for them "both to choke on," and both sound so delicate. Every moment of the album is utterly brilliant and beautifully delivered. It's not without good reason that three songs from the album were on my 100 most listened to songs of 2019 ("Valentine," "Werewolf," and "Every Single Night"). It's an art pop classic.

In many ways The Idler Wheel... is a conglomeration of many albums to appear earlier on this list. It has Tune-Yards' instrumentation, Courtney Barnett's wit, Lana del Rey's technique. And yet, it's better than all of them, and Fiona Apple has been doing it a lot longer. It was Tune, Courtney, and Lana who learned from Fiona, and even now, in what should have been their decade, Fiona once again showed them exactly how to do it. That's how I can say and you'll believe, "Fiona Apple might be one of the most influential artists of this generation." 𝄌

5. Melodrama - Lorde (2017)

"We're the greatest. They'll hang us in the Louvre."

Two truths exist simultaneously:

The worst thing to ever happen to Lorde was her break-up with her longtime boyfriend.

The best thing to ever happen to music was Lorde's break-up with her longtime boyfriend.

Sad pop songs are not new. But to create an entire pop concept album about your first heartbreak? That isn't exactly fun. It isn't exactly pop.

And yet is it. Melodrama is the shining example of just how far an artist can push pop (and another eleven song masterpiece). Did you know an artist can break your heart using the same genre as Taylor Swift and Britney Spears? I bet you didn't. Until you heard Melodrama.

I don't have much to say about this album. Actually, the more accurate statement is I don't have much I can say about this album. I listen to the music while I write, and the fact is it's extremely hard to write while I'm crying. And I can't listen to this album without crying. So, I'm going to leave it at that.

I'm so sorry Lorde ever hurt like this.

But I'm so thankful she was able to turn it into something profoundly beautiful. 𝄌

4. To Pimp a Butterfly - Kendrick Lamar (2015)

"The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice."

There are certain cultural moments indelibly marked into my memory. Events I will never forget. I remember where I was the moment gay marriage was legalized. I remember the first time I seriously saw the 9/11 footage. And I remember the time and place the first time I listened to Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp a Butterfly.

It was spring of 2015. I was in the lobby of the Atlanta Girls School, waiting for hours for one of my partner's shows to begin. And while they set up and did last minute rehearsals, I put in my headphones and listened to Kendrick's new jazz-influenced and South Africa-inspired hip-hop album. Within minutes, the walls of that lobby would forever be etched into my brain.

To Pimp a Butterfly - the best album of 2015, President Obama's favorite album, and a top five album of the 2010s named by Esquire, Rolling Stone Magazine, Pitchfork, Stereogum, The A.V. Club, Consequence of Sound, Billboard, and countless other publications - is nothing short of a masterpiece. As of 2020, it's the best reviewed album of the century. In all seriousness, it is one of the greatest albums of all time.

If DAMN. would go on to become a true reflection of self and good kid, m.A.A.d city was a biography of Compton, California, then To Pimp a Butterfly was the magnum opus of black art. The longest album on this list, every minute of the album serves to redefine how we see black culture, black politics, and black folks as a people. The album covers everything from slavery to gangbanging to Black Lives Matter to putting a black man in the White House. It is by far the greatest concept album on race, entering and eclipsing others in the same league (classics like It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back by Public Enemy and Things Fall Apart by The Roots).

I've contended from the outset of this list that all thirty albums are classics, that I'd play each of them in order if the fate of humanity was on the line. While I stand by that, I've only used the term perfect to describe certain songs and elements on these albums. And that's because there were only four perfect albums released in the last ten years.

To Pimp a Butterfly is one of them. Although he released three of the best thirty albums of the last ten years, Kendrick only made one perfect album. Start to finish, To Pimp a Butterfly is not just a classic. It's perfect. 𝄌

3. Blonde - Frank Ocean (2016)

"You cut your hair but you used to live a blonded life."

If Blonde being at #3 isn't high enough for you, then you're probably the exact kind of person I want in my life. A person who can recognize greatness and beauty in their most stunning forms. A person who has loved and lost and learnt. A person who values the art of human emotion above all else. If, however, you think that Blonde deserves to be any lower, you are most likely a heartless monster.

Blonde is a natural progression from Frank Ocean's first album, channel ORANGE. Where ORANGE attempted to freeze first love in an instant, Blonde goes further. It takes every aspect of love, frozen in that moment, and expands upon them ad infinitum. With each contortion of Frank's voice, so too does he twist his way through every moment of love. The butterflies, the fights, the yearning, the joy, the vows, the hopes, the loss, the questions, the heartbreak.

Blonde is by all measures a genre-defining R&B album. Split into two halves by one of the best moments in music - the beat switch in "Nights" marks the exact middle of the album, down to the second - the first half is certainly rhythm, while the second half is undoubtedly blues. To say it is beautiful is an understatement. Blonde goes far beyond beauty. It's like existing inside a diamond, seeing the world from the inside out. It's incomprehensibly unique in its beauty.

From the auto-tuned opening moments of "Nikes" to the static-filled final questions of the album, "How far is a light year? A second, a thousand years?" Frank Ocean is firmly in control of the soundscape he's pulling his listeners into. At times it is bare, minimal, and intimate (like the final minute of "White Ferrari"), other times it is chaotic and fast-paced (see, "Solo (Reprise)"), and sometimes it's simply a perfect, sweet love song ("Self Control" and "Ivy"). There isn't a moment, not even a fraction of a second, that isn't intentional and artistically controlled. Frank never loses his vision of what Blonde is and what it conveys.

An artist with his brush, Frank Ocean's Blonde is an infinite number of masterstrokes crystallizing the very nature of love. 𝄌

2. Lemonade - Beyoncé (2016)

"Who the fuck do you think I is?"

What does one do when their partner cheats on them? Do you leave? Do you stay? Do you confront them or keep quiet? Well if you're Beyoncé, and your husband happens to be Jay-Z - one of the five greatest rappers of all time and worth damn near a billion dollars - apparently you drop the most impactful concept album of the century. 

Lemonade, Beyoncé's sixth studio album paired with a visual album (fancy speak for a movie) of the same name, took the world by storm when it dropped in 2016. Béy embraced her femininity, her blackness, and her status unapologetically, smashed a police car (or two), and confronted her husband in the most dramatic of fashions. Adele dedicated her Grammy win to the Queen. Fox News called for a boycott. Jay-Z shut himself into a studio to create an apology album, 4:44. 

Before Lemonade, it would be fair to say that Beyoncé was a radio queen with a knack for grabbing the public spotlight (as in the spontaneous release of Beyoncé, her 2013 album). But Lemonade was different. Sure, it was also those things - radio worthy and an attention-grabber - but it was also very, very different. She proved she wasn't just an artist. She was Art Royalty. With a single album she put out the best rock song of the year ("Don't Hurt Yourself"), the best pop song ("Hold Up"), the best country song ("Daddy Lessons"), the best soul song ("Sandcastles"), the best dance song ("Formation"), the best rap song ("Freedom") and the best R&B song (insert: the rest of the album). 

Oh, and in doing all of that, she told the entire world exactly how important she is, not just to music, but to her husband. At the heart of Lemonade is the story of a cheating husband and the powerful woman destined to make him pay. And boy, did she. With the help of Jack White, James Blake, the Weeknd, and Kendrick Lamar, Queen Bee put out what could easily be in the running for the greatest album of all time, and in the process she redefined her marital status. She stayed with Jay, but goddamn, did she do it on her own terms.

You'd have to be crazy not to recognize the perfection that Lemonade came to embody (almost as crazy as Jay-Z ever was for even looking at anyone else). So, I'm gonna do the sane thing and recognize the perfection. I don't want the Queen coming for my head next. No one does. 𝄌

1. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy - Kanye West (2010)

"Can we get much higher?"

Come on, if you know anything about me, this blog, or music in general, you knew this album was gonna be #1 on this list. Despite what I (or anyone) may think of the man now, I've long publicly recognized Kanye West's creative genius. On My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, Kanye masterfully orchestrated hundreds of voices and musicians to create a rap album worthy of a throne. And that was back in 2010. Ten years ago, Kanye West took the throne, the sword of Damocles dangling precariously over his head. That sword may still fall or it may have already fallen, but for at least one decade, Kanye held the crown.

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is not just a classic.

It redefines masterpiece.

It's more than genius.

It's beyond perfect.

It's the most essential album of the 2010s. 𝄌