The 30 best albums of 2022
From Renaissance and Big Time to Blue Rev and Dawn FM, here are this year's standout albums
Music returned to its triumphant form in 2022. Multiple artists returned from extended breaks following a tumultuous few years for the industry, showing us just how exhilarating the promise of a new record could be. We were reminded of music’s ability to stir us, allowing us to forge further connections to ourselves and each other.
We thought the first half of the year offered enough to cherish—then we reached the second half. There, we got new stellar albums from acts such as Alvvays, Julia Jacklin, Alex G, Carly Rae Jepsen—oh, and Beyoncé. Excellent records came to us in abundance in 2022, pushing us to expand our best-of list to 30 albums. Indeed, 2022 was the musical gift that kept on giving, and here we’ll celebrate all that we loved from this year.
On her sophomore record , Sasami swooped in with her blood boiling and her hands ready for carnage. The album was such a departure from her more tender, soft-spoken, self-titled debut record that it was almost hard to believe the two came from the same person. She shreds and screams her way through exhilarating songs such as “Skin A Rat” and “Sorry Entertainer,” but handles more delicate, swooning rock ballads such as “The Greatest” and “Call Me Home” with ease. Squeeze remains one of my personal favorites from the year, both for its risk-taking and the complexity of its sound. [Gabrielle Sanchez]
Black Country, New Road’s version of a breakup album, Ants From Up There is by turns aching and hilarious. Sprawling, experimental, and unapologetically grandiose, the record teems with tangled thickets of post-rock that unexpectedly bloom into prog, jazz, classical, and even klezmer. Singer Isaac Wood and his bellowed lyrics, densely allusive and deeply personal, preside over all. If this really is Wood’s last album with Black Country, New Road, at least he’s going out on a hell of a high note. [Peter Helman]
Neon Blue revives the boot-scootin’ sound of 1990s country, but Joshua Headley is a traditionalist in the sense that he adheres to the elements that remain eternal in country music: songs about hard times and heartbreak, told with an open heart and wry wit, married to melodies as sturdy as hardwood. Headley keeps things lean and lively, crafting the kind of record that’s meant to be heard in a dimly lit dive bar at the end of a long day. [Stephen Erlewine]
My brother introduced me to MJ Lenderman a year or so ago, saying he was “like Jason Molina with a little bit of Sparklehorse.” And that’s not only, obviously, a lot to live up to—almost so much so that I didn’t want to hear it—but also pretty damn accurate. On this album, I hear more of the former, especially in the cadence of Lenderman’s voice. But no matter the influence, Lenderman, a guitarist in the Asheville indie-rock outfit Wednesday, has crafted a phenomenal LP, his first one apparently in a proper studio, one with clever lyrics and a staggering sense of self, oscillating between songs that build to crescendos of blaring guitars and mellower tracks with soft slides that floor me with lines like “I know why we get so fucked up.” He’s one of the best singer-songwriters going. [Tim Lowery]
, the four-part, 18-song epic from dream-pop duo Beach House, sounds like, well, exactly what you’d expect from 18 new Beach House songs. But hey, if you’re one of the best in the game—which Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally undeniably are—there’s no reason to mess with such a winning formula. Once Twice Melody, self-produced over three years by Legrand and Scally, represents a sort of thesis statement for the band—all airy vocals, gooey synths, and slight melancholy undercut by soaring crescendo. It may not be the freshest release of the year, but it is one of the most tenderly nostalgic: Like lying on newly cut grass in the middle of a sunshower. [Emma Keates]
Versions Of Modern Performance was probably the . And now, six months after its release, the Matador debut from young Chicago band Horsegirl—guitarists-singers Nora Cheng and Penelope Lowenstein, and drummer Gigi Reece—is still plenty exciting to listen to, living up to all the buzz and promise, a frenetic, big sounding record that, yes, recalls a lot of ’80s and ’90s indie-rock but also has a tough-to-pin-down quality that feels very here-and-now. When I caught them in Los Angeles a while back, they closed their set with a cover of Guided By Voices’ lo-fi now-classic “As We Go Up, We Go Down,” and I was wedged between a kid who couldn’t have been more than 10 and a dude at least that much older than yours truly, both bobbing their heads. And there’s something to be said for a new band painting that particular scene. [Tim Lowery]
While Soccer Mommy (a.k.a. Sophie Allison) has never shied away from her jagged edges, 2022’s is easily her thorniest release yet. This creep of darkness is largely thanks to an unexpected but brilliant collaboration with Oneohtrix Point Never’s Daniel Lopatin (his second feature on this list, after The Weeknd’s DAWN FM) who once called the album “the angels and demons record,” according to Alison. This is a fitting moniker that captures both its emotional high—such as the infectious, instant-classic “Shotgun”—and enthralling lows—such as the emo-infused “Unholy Affliction,” which sees Allison trade in her signature, bright indie sound for something a little grittier, to excellent effect. Sometimes, Forever could represent a fork in Allison’s career, but for now, we’re lucky to be with her at the crossroads. [Emma Keates]
Every Alex G album feels like a beautiful puzzle that isn’t really meant to be solved. Everything is always slightly off-kilter—vocals processed into oblivion, songs shapeshifting suddenly from tender acoustic guitar to blown-out hyperpop. A meditation on spirituality and faith that asks plenty of questions and offers precious few answers, God Save The Animals is Alex G at his most varied and his most affecting. He’s managed to grow from his humble lo-fi origins to honest-to-God indie stardom without sacrificing any of his weirdo charm, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. [Peter Helman]
HYPNOS, Ravyn Lenae’s debut album, is a psychedelic music box spinning beyond genre. At its center, though, is an incisive coming-of-age statement from an artist who already sounds like she’s seen it all but still is raring to see more. Lenae’s gentle falsetto often feels like it’s entering your ear at specifically the right angle to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up; break-up ballad “Lullabye” is a particular treat. [Drew Gillis]
began the rollout for with one promise: Hyperpop is dead, and it’s Charli who killed it. After releasing one of the genre’s most luminary tomes (her 2017 mixtape Pop 2), the British pop star cheekily christened it over—and as its funeral, released an album defined by her dedication and love for pop itself. Playfully hodge-podging styles from the past 50 years (and especially relishing ’80s dance pop,) Charli proves on Crash that without hyper-pop on her shoulders, there’s nothing she can’t do—except, as album highlight “Yuck” gleefully explains, relinquish her hot girl duties to tend to a sappy lover. It’s not all romance and breakups here, however—over a twinkling, layered beat, album closer “Twice” finds Charli reflecting on her own mortality and the achievements and relationships that will all disappear one day. Her response feels as affirmative as a best friend coaxing you out of the existential depths and back onto the dance floor: “Up on the hill, we’ll see it all end / Die happy thinking ‘bout my best friends / ‘Til then I’m diving off the deep end / ‘Don’t think twice about it,’ I say.” [Hattie Lindert]
The first big album of 2022 also turned out to be one of the year’s best. Executive produced by glossy pop hitmaker Max Martin and experimental auteur Oneohtrix Point Never, an unlikely pair of geniuses from opposite ends of the musical landscape, Dawn FM is a perfect synthesis of warring arthouse and commercial ambitions and his most cohesive full-length statement to date. It succeeds on every level, squeezing pop gold into the conceptual framework of a radio station, hosted by a beatific Jim Carrey, easing the transition from purgatory to death. Do not go gentle into that good night; go dancing to decadent ’80s-inspired synth-funk. [Peter Helman]
Through her music, singer-songwriter Mitski often makes her feelings bigger than the sky—an indomitable, omnipotent force. On her sixth studio album, , her feelings sink into the ground, running deep enough to crack the Earth’s core. Laurel Hell presents the singer at her most subdued, contemplative, and quite frankly—tired. She struggles against the never-ending grind (“Working For The Knife”), lost love (“Should’ve Been Me”), and all the things in life she can’t change (“Heat Lightning”). It’s a beautiful, perplexing, and at times harrowing work, which showcases Mitski’s knack for pulling on an emotional thread enough to spin gold. [Gabrielle Sanchez]
Puerto Rican rapper Bad Bunny had another stellar year, as his newest record helped him become the top-streamed artist on Spotify for the . With Un Verano Sin Ti, he continued his trek across the world’s airwaves, spreading the gospel of Latin trap, combining elements of pop, reggaeton, and cumbia to an intoxicating effect. Un Verano Sin Ti is a cache of bold yet groovy songs perfectly suited for passing days in the sun’s rays. It’s also the first Spanish-language album to receive a Grammy nomination for Album Of The Year. May Bad Bunny’s reign continue. [Gabrielle Sanchez]
Saying that Jockstrap—the experimental electronic project of Taylor Skye and Georgia Ellery—has an eye for the theatrical would be an understatement. The British duo’s debut full-length doesn’t try to box in the different ideas that overflowed from its 2020 EP Wicked City, but every track here has a little more nuance and polish than before. Thoughtful production choices bring heft and rhythm to even the most subdued tracks—if you’re not languidly tapping your toe, you’re jumping up and down screaming. It’s a downright joy to get to watch Ellery (who is featured on this list twice—she also worked on Black Country, New Road’s Ants From Up There) flex new muscles across the board here, especially lyrically. I Love You, Jennifer B captures a virtuosic duo at a pivotal career moment—the only thing more exciting than this project is whatever stands to come next. [Hattie Lindert]
Right at the start of 2022, FKA Twigs released Caprisongs, a winding, genre-defying thrill ride. Presented as a mixtape, Caprisongs contains snappy interludes, poetic monologues from friends, and hidden club bangers. In one moment, Caprisongs finds solace in the rowdy escapism of the dance floor, the next Twigs bares her heart before the listener, looking deeply at her own emotional mechanisms. The record is brave in its vulnerability and willingness to toy with new ideas, all of which result in a dizzying, hypnotic body of work. [Gabrielle Sanchez]
Florence Welch is the high priestess of pop-rock, occupying her own ethereal plane and touching down every few years to give us a taste. Described by the songwriter as “a fairytale in 14 songs,” Dance Fever is a quintessential example of the band’s powers. The album is an exploration of female archetypes with sounds that range from dance-pop (“My Love”) to ballad (“The Bomb”) to Bleachers-esque bop (“Free”). It’s also a showcase for Welch’s one-of-a-kind voice, captured in the wailing “King,” and the mythical quality of her storytelling, as on the mysterious “Choreomania.” Florence & the Machine is one of the most reliable acts on the current music scene, maintaining a singular sound while still feeling fresh and relevant. Dance Fever is not only a worthy entry in their catalog, but a standout amongst the year’s excellent offerings as a whole. [Mary Kate Carr]
It may be a cliché to say it feels like an artist is singing directly to you, but with –even in her more exuberant moments–it really does feel like these lyrics were not meant to reach any other soul. Despite the almost insurmountable task of following up 2019’s excellent Crushing, Pre Pleasure sees Jacklin at the height of her poetic power, especially on tracks like the slow-burning “Love, Try Not To Let Go,” incisive anti-spiritual “,” and quietly heart-shattering “Too In Love To Die.” You may shed a tear or two, but the feeling of catharsis that lingers around the edges is more than worth the pain. [Emma Keates]
Maggie Rogers works on her own timeline: She releases a critically acclaimed debut, then goes back and excavates old demos before releasing new music. She makes a whole breakup album in 2020 then scraps it, gets her master’s degree and releases an entire new album to complement her thesis. Rogers has spoken about how Surrender was born out of her studies at Harvard Divinity School, but it’s anything but a stuffy academic project. Instead, these songs are her sexiest and most confident yet. The unique sound from Heard It In A Past Life has naturally evolved, along with her stronger, more powerful vocals. At the core, though, Rogers’ ethos remains consistent. She’s a student of the world, intellectually curious, musically playful and clear-eyed about her completely individual path forward. With the breath of fresh air that is Surrender under her belt, the future is clearly bright. [Mary Kate Carr]
Ten albums into their career, Spoon sound like veterans in the best possible sense: They’re so confident of their strengths they’re pushing them into the foreground, while experimenting on the margins. sharp songwriting remains the engine that drives Spoon, but much of the appeal of lies in the band’s crackling chemistry. Muscular and musical, Lucifer On The Sofa rocks, but it also swings, delivering a visceral, tuneful thrill. [Stephen Erlewine]
As December winds down, I feel comfortable saying it: No artist in 2022 arrived with a more fully formed and interesting aesthetic than producer, singer, and songwriter Hayden Anhedonia, who performs under the name Ethel Cain. Recorded in her home in rural Alabama, Anhedonia’s debut album, Preacher’s Daughter, paints a deft, unsparing, and immersive portrait of Southern Baptist America, gothic romance, and self-destructive tendencies. But clear stylization doesn’t hinder the artist from making a variety of genres, from stadium rock to ambient, her very own. The album’s centerpiece, “American Teenager,” a tearjerker coming-of-age-film encapsulated in two-and-a-half minutes, exemplifies this: simply put, Ethel Cain could do “Born To Run,” but Bruce Springsteen couldn’t do “Gibson Girl” (is it evil to hope that by putting out such a definitive statement The Boss picks up his guitar and proves me wrong?) [Hattie Lindert]
Angel Olsen has always been something of a chameleon, trying on fuzz folk, retro rock, and chamber pop in turn throughout her very rich career. But if those past albums were an explosion, —easily her most clear-eyed work yet—is a homecoming that sees the artist finally embrace that delicious, natural twang that has lurked beneath her work for so long. While born out of heartbreak—Olsen came out as queer to her parents and lost both shortly after—Big Time is an overwhelmingly hopeful album, deftly weaving together threads of grief, love, identity, and memory to create something enormous and delicate and so, so special. Do yourself a favor and pop this one on some headphones on a train ride to literally anywhere; you might find your way home as well. [Emma Keates]
Over the summer, New York’s own Grace Ives released a treasure trove of transcendent, brilliant pop tracks. Clocking in at less than 30 minutes, Janky Star wastes no time enchanting you, starting with the spry “Isn’t It Lovely.” Every song is just as heavenly as the one before it, from “Loose” to “Shelly” to “Lullaby.” Janky Star carries the sacred title of being a “no-skip album,” as it’s enacted with cohesive, DIY vision. With her heart on her sleeve, Ives became the pop-star to watch in 2022. [Gabrielle Sanchez]
When folks learned Carly Rae Jepsen’s shared a release date with Taylor Swift’s Midnights, a wave of empathy poured over her online, as if the overwhelming noise attached to the latter’s release would drown out her own new album. As expected (by this writer at least), she needed no one’s pity. She instead delivered another record filled with captivating, lush pop songs beaming with sun-shiny romanticism. The Loneliest Time further taps into Jepsen’s insatiable talent to write pop anthem after pop anthem, all the while broaching new genres to experiment with. [Gabrielle Sanchez]
If Muna’s ascension to pop stardom demonstrates one thing, it’s that the journey and the destination can be of equal creative importance. After being dropped by a major label in 2020, the California trio signed with Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records in 2021, and their first single for the label, “,” became one of that summer’s most ubiquitous tracks. Expanding on the track’s star power, Muna’s self-titled, self-produced third album pushes genre boundaries not by ignoring earworm formulas but by wielding them with rare dexterity, forming indie pop in their own image. Exultant anthems like “What I Want” and “Solid” highlight the passionate fun to be had in queer love and exploration—even more somber moments like the love-lost ballad “Loose Garment” take on a dreamy romanticism. MUNA melds content and form into an endlessly re-listenable harmony, as perfect for a public pregame as a good long sob under the covers. [Hattie Lindert]
The central refrain on Motomami opener “Saoko”—“Yo me transformo,” or in English, “I transform”—serves as both a tone-setter and a thesis statement for Rosalia’s triumphant third album. Backflipping across 16 tracks, all Rosalia does on Motomami is transform: from a heartbroken wound to a gritty badass, from the life of the party to the manifestation of private pain. Innovated and delicate production never hides behind Rosalía’s breathtaking vocal technique (the singer is a trained flamenco ballad), but never gets in the way, either. On such a diverse and skillful album it’s difficult to pick a standout, but the spare, wavering ballad “Hentai” may well have been the most arrestingly beautiful sung melody I heard all year. If tears aren’t your thing? Good luck making it through “Bizcochito” or “CUUUUuuuuuute” without cracking a smile and moving your body. [Hattie Lindert]
With their last offering released in 2017, many fans hoped Blue Rev would make up for lost time with their 2022 effort. We were in luck, as the band’s third album did so much more. ushered in a whole new slate of Alvvays songs to adore and replay, over and over and over again. It serves as a deepening of their flourishing shoe-gaze-influenced indie-pop sound, while experimenting in playful yet eloquent ways. Lead singer Molly Rankin’s vocals have never been so arresting, leaning into the power of pop hooks without getting carried away. As with their previous records, it’s hard to pick and choose standouts, yet it’s all too easy to get swept up in the static (in the best way). However, “Tom Verlaine,” “After The Earthquake,” “Belinda Says,” and “Many Mirrors” are a few tracks that keep looping through my head. [Gabrielle Sanchez]
In anyone else’s hands, an album like And In The Darkness, Hearts Aglow may have come off as saccharine and over-serious, but with Natalie Mering (a.ka. Weyes Blood) earnestness is the only antidote to our discontents. Weaving in modern electro-pop elements on tracks like “Twin Flame” with lush, hymnal orchestration and the same soaring vocals on display in 2019’s excellent Titanic Rising, Mering has penned a record both completely timeless and inextricable from our current moment—an urgent and gorgeous ode to human connection that washes over the listener like a revelation. In the words of the standout opener “It’s Not Just Me, It’s Everybody”: “Mercy is the only cure for being so lonely.” Listening to this album certainly feels a little bit like being saved. [Emma Keates]
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