The 27 best albums of 2023

After spending the better part of two decades futzing around in the studio, the Rolling Stones buckled down earlier this year and completed their first album of original material since 2005. Operating under a strict deadline set by Mick Jagger, the Stones benefitted from acting like a working band once again, knocking out sleek, hooky songs that recalled their storied past while also consciously avoiding nostalgia. Plenty of famous friends are on hand to give Hackney Diamonds some flash—Lady Gaga spars with Jagger on the epic “Sweet Sounds of Heaven,” Paul McCartney lays down some gnarly fuzz bass on “Bite My Head Off”—but it’s “Live By the Sword” that has real kick thanks to the reunion of the band’s original rhythm section of bassist Bill Wyman and the late drummer Charlie Watts, who died before this album was completed. [Stephen Erlewine]

The third album from Australian pop singer and social media sensation Troye Sivan, Something To Give Each Other, finds deliverance in the club. Moving on the dance floor as an individual and as part of a group was Sivan’s path through the lingering pain of a breakthrough. Although sadness creeps on the edges, Something To Give Each Other plays as a celebration of the power of pop, paying homage to a long lineage of empowering sounds that stretch through the heyday of house and back to the early days of disco. [Stephen Erlewine]

Aurora almost feels like an anomaly considering its origins: It exists as part of Taylor Jenkins Reid’s fiction novel , which got a Prime Video adaptation; the original songs are performed by the lead duo, and Sam Claflin, who are playing -inspired musicians. So it had no right to be as addictive and charming as it is. Aurora offers a solid ode to the ’70s pop-disco-rock music. Even if you haven’t watched the TV show, songs like “Let Me Down Easy,” “Kill You To Try,” and “Aurora” are legit earworms. And if you’ve seen it, well, you already know why “Look At Us Now (Honeycomb)” is so special. Aurora is a happy surprise; it overcomes its challenges—no one could ever rise to Fleetwood Mac levels, of course—and carves a unique space for itself. [Saloni Gajjar]

Once the paragon of visceral rock, PJ Harvey deliberately chose an esoteric path, one that led her to the bewitching I Inside The Old Year Dying. An expansion of her epic poem Olem, I Inside The Old Year Dying is steeped in archaic sensibilities yet deliberately avoids traditionalism. Acoustic and analog electronics weave a spare, rich tapestry that accentuates the veiled mystery of Harvey’s songs. The tracks seem eternal, and the production suspended in time, giving I Inside The Old Year Dying the exquisite sense of being a transmission from an unknown time and space; no matter when you hear it for the first time, it seems like a fresh discovery. [Stephen Erlewine]

With regal, bellicose horns and hooks that present like proclamations, Jaguar II sounds like a coronation. Victoria Monét has plenty of reason to celebrate; her biggest album to date included collaborations with not just Earth, Wind, and Fire but her young daughter, Hazel. The warm, Chicago soul-influenced sound radiates with familial love, not dissimilar from pride. Lead single and standout track “On My Mama” is perhaps the best blend of these ideas; on Jaguar II, the shit-talking comes from a storied lineage. [Drew Gillis]

Like many artists, Hozier turned inward during the COVID-19 pandemic, spending part of his lockdown finding inspiration in Dante’s Inferno. The epic poem provided a launching pad for the Irish singer/songwriter to explore, creating an unusually exploratory and empathetic album in Unreal Unearth. Dabbling in a variety of styles—there are hints of funk intermingling with his folk, his plaintive pleadings underpinned by pop—Hozier seems as if he’s on a quest for higher meaning, fully aware that the pursuit is more meaningful than the destination. [Stephen Erlewine]

Gracie Abrams has had an exciting 2023, including being an opening act for ’s Eras Tour, headlining her own tour, and . And it’s all for a “good” reason: Abrams dropped a promising, sublime first album earlier this year, Good Riddance, co-produced by Aaron Dessner and Matias Tellez. The album is soft and quiet, but also soothing and heartbreaking at the same time, and it’s easy to keep listening to it on a loop. Evocative breakout tracks like “I Know It Won’t Work” and “This Is What The Drugs Are For” only scratch the surface of what Abrams has to offer. [Saloni Gajjar]

Another divorce album, although Josh Homme is too ornery to ever succumb to confessional cliches, In Times New Roman finds Queen of the Stone Age operating in an unusually tight circle. Apart from a string section and some singers, there are no guests here, allowing QOTSA to drill down into the depths of their heavy psychedelia. The woozy sway of the melodies intertwines with the undertow of the guitars, a combination that complements and accentuates Homme’s uneasy hunt for a path forward. [Stephen Erlewine]

SZA delivered SOS, her long-anticipated sequel to Ctrl, in December 2022, typically the dead zone for new records, yet the album not only sustained interest over 2023, it found new audiences as it spent 10 weeks on the top of the Billboard charts. SOS is an album that benefits from familiarity: it not only sprawls, it wanders, taking circular stylistic detours that all wind up returning to SZA’s quicksilver skills. Sliding between sorrow and defiance, SZA melds anger and melancholy as deftly as she blends pop, rock, and even country into her R&B; it’s an album where Travis Scott and Phoebe Bridgers both have equal reason to belong. Despite such succinct singles as “Kill Bill” and the self-lacerating energy of “F2F,” much of SOS glides on grooves that are too defined to be sad yet still benefit from isolated listening where the sustained vibe turns hypnotic. [Stephen Erlewine]

A swiftly released companion record to Carly Rae Jepsen’s 2022 album The Loneliest Time—a “B-side” album, in CRJ parlance—The Loveliest Time does indeed seem sweeter than its predecessor. The vibe shift is due to the form as much as the content. Teeming with bright melodies, percolating rhythms, and a sleek, glassy sheen, this is a record about moving forward and embracing possibilities—an open-hearted, empathetic attitude that is firmly within Carly Rae Jepsen’s sweet spot. [Stephen Erlewine]

Noname already established herself as one of her generation’s greatest rappers and voices on her previous projects, 2016’s Telefone and 2018’s Room 25. In the five years since, the rapper started a book club and increasingly spoke out against capitalism. That journey and those criticisms are all present on the excellent Sundial, which blends jazzy, space age bachelor pad-esque beats, soulful hooks (courtesy of Ayoni), and scathing, righteous critique. “Namesake” became an immediate standout, as Noname names Beyoncé, Kendrick Lamar, and Rihanna for their military glamorization via the NFL, before turning her aim inward for her performance at Coachella. [Drew Gillis]

Fully aware that he’s closer to the end of his life than the beginning, Paul Simon doesn’t hesitate to embrace change. Seven Psalms is a suite of songs sequenced as a complete piece, each element riffing upon matters of belief and mortality. Simon doesn’t sound morose: he’s wry, bemused, and accepting, rejecting pat answers yet having faith in something bigger. [Stephen Erlewine]

A meeting of the titans, Scaring The Hoes finds Detroit’s own Danny Brown and JPEGMAFIA operating on a cutting edge, albeit a retro one. Relying on an antiquated hardware sampler, JPEGMAFIA creates a cacophonic racket that’s intense but not monochromatic, particularly when paired with Brown’s quicksilver delivery. All the electronic clatter, skittish breakbeats, and half-recognizable samples can seem purposefully alienating but Scaring The Hoes is also invigorating, gaining strength from its self-generated madness. [Stephen Erlewine]

The woozy, analog-filtered sounds of Nourished By Time gradually win over any skeptics over the course of Erotic Probiotic 2’s 34 minutes. The Dougie Houser-esque synths of “Shed That Fear” open up into a deliberate, meditative chorus about mortality, while the driving groove sees the artist (born Marcus Brown) comparing himself to a lover’s sugar daddy. On “The Fields,” he looks for God only to find consumerism, his own voice echoing around him like a carousel. Brown’s work is idiosyncratic; it often conjures the feeling of staying up too late, too young, when the cartoons on TV turn from innocent to frightening. Brown’s world is colorful, even if it’s dark. [Drew Gillis]

A divorce album in all but name, The Ballad Of Darren strikes a similar melancholic chord as 13, the turn-of-the-millennium album from Blur. The difference of nearly 25 years makes a considerable difference: there’s a collective heft to the album that stems from a band that reconvenes with the knowledge of their strengths and weaknesses, a group that recognizes their peculiar chemistry. After dispensing with the barbed rush of “St. Charles Square,” Blur spends the rest of the record floating on a melancholy sea, never succumbing to its sad undercurrent but always aware of its undertow. [Stephen Erlewine]

After a trio of beautiful records that unfold like funny, bittersweet novels—2016’s  The Party taking place at, yes, a party; 2020’s Barack Obama-promoted The Neon Skyline at a Toronto bar; and 2021’s Wilds at a destination wedding—Shauf aimed for a less linear story with Norm. But this is hardly just a mix of good songs, and the album is lyrically quite ambitious, with different narrators, including god in “” and the titular dude, whose deceptively chill-sounding track of the same name was played on repeat plenty by yours truly. [Tim Lowery]

Reconvening after a six-year hiatus—a period of time that found leader Hayley Williams releasing a pair of solo albums—Paramore seems simultaneously stabilized and eager for adventure on This Is Why. With original drummer Zac Farro firmly back in the fold—his presence alongside guitarist Taylor York makes this the first time the group has recorded with the same lineup on two successive records—Paramore pivots to post-punk, favoring twitchy rhythms, offset chords and anxiety while still prizing bracing pop hooks. It’s a combination that gives This Is Why depth as well as punch. [Stephen Erlewine]

alum followed up her successful 2022 EP Everything To Everyone with her first studio album, Snow Angel, and quickly established herself as the pop star to watch, thanks to the way her voice and lyrics perfectly capture coming-of-age angst, from “Tummy Hurts” to “Pretty Girls.” Snow Angel shows Rapp’s range, mixing heartfelt ballads with classic pop-rock energy. The latter is clearly her strength, as evidenced in bangers like “Talk Too Much” and the pitch-perfect hater anthem “Poison, Poison,” in which [Saloni Gajjar]

Javelin is as gorgeously ethereal as one would expect from Sufjan Stevens, who is known for songs that are somehow gossamer-delicate but deep and rich at the same time. The album is set to a backdrop of heartbreaking loss, but it’s also crushingly romantic. This is a collection of songs that feels like springtime, from the angelic backing choir to the lilting guitar; there’s grief and letting go, but there’s also blossoming renewal. There is wildness and mystery to what Stevens is able to create that feels magic and rare. [Mary Kate Carr]

Until Andre 3000 embraced new age fusion, Lil Yachty’s Let’s Start Here was the great left turn of 2023. Abandoning mumble rap and trap, Yachty dove head-first into rock, surfacing somewhere in the liminal space separating psychedelia and neo-alt rock. Hazy and heavy, Let’s Start Here is as deliberately trippy as classic Pink Floyd yet it’s underpinned by a sense of giddiness, as if Lil Yachty is delighted by his audacious departure. [Stephen Erlewine]

Lana Del Rey’s ninth studio album is a masterclass in confessional writing on a sweeping and melodic scale that truly only she could pull off. Featuring a roster of collaborators like Jon Batiste, Father John Misty, and Bleachers, Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd explores everything from life, death, god, and legacy, to vapes, consumerism, family, and love at first sight. Ocean Blvd is an airy, powerful, gut-punch of an album that ensures that no matter how much she may meditate on it, Lana Del Rey will never be forgotten. [Emma Keates]

Boygenius is a band, not a collective: they have a distinct chemistry that gives The Record its distinct character. From the outset, The Record celebrates the harmony Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus create: “Without You Without Them” relies only on their voices, offering a keynote for the rest of the record, when the trio thrives upon their combined chemistry. Boygenius is keenly aware of rock history—there’s a song saluting “Leonard Cohen,” “Revolution 0" answers the Beatles’ “Revolution 9,” “True Blue” has the same name as a massive Madonna hit—but The Record shows that the band doesn’t dwell upon the past. These allusions are a common ground to show how the band sounds and thinks differently, which is what makes this album so compelling. [Stephen Erlewine]

Caroline Polachek has turned out banger after banger for both herself and others—she’s written for Beyoncé and collaborated extensively with the likes of Blood Orange and Charli XCX—for almost two decades now. But Desire, I Want To Turn Into You is a different type of album altogether. Combining multiple genres, a few ace features, and Polachek’s particular brand of yearning lyricism, Desire is a smart, sensual, and strange dream of paradise, all brought together by vocals that feel almost as impossible as love itself. [Stephen Erlewine]

The best debut album of the year, and a strong contender for the best pop album, period, The Rise And Fall Of A Midwest Princess is unbridled, unselfconscious fun. Chappell Roan teamed with producer Dan Nigro (of Olivia Rodrigo’s GUTS) to create sounds that are fresh and enthralling. But the true appeal is Roan’s alluring voice paired with lyrics that range from flirty to naughty to heartbreaking and back. Her unabashed queer joy is pure pleasure, no guilt. [Mary Kate Carr]