The List 2019

Welcome to The List 2019, the annual rundown of my 20 favourite albums of the year.

This tradition is one that my friend Adam and I started in the year 2000, and we have done it every year since – making this my twentieth list. All of my previous lists are available online for anyone who wants to read them.

To qualify for the list each year, an album needs to have been studio recorded, full length, and released in the year in question.

Hope you enjoy my 2019 choices!

20. Alice Merton - Mint

The debut album from multi-passport holding (Canadian/German/British) singer-songwriter Alice Merton is a wonderful, if perhaps not exactly ground-breaking, pop delight. Merton’s background is apparently in country music, but there are only tiny residues of that to be found here and there on Mint. Instead, it’s mostly a classy exercise in ‘grown up’ pop, with a mix of guitar (e.g., ‘Roots’; album best ‘Lash Out’) and electro (e.g. ‘Homesick’). There are plenty of hooks, but Merton also takes things to moodier, less immediate, territory (e.g., ‘Speak Your Mind’; ‘Honeymoon Heartbreak’). This adds up to a pop album that has depth and, on that basis, is a cut above most of the records made by artists who sound similar (of which, it has to be said, there are quite a number). It seems unlikely that I’ll still be playing it in months (let alone years) to come, but it has been a very enjoyable find for 2019.

19. Mars Red Sky - The Task Eternal

Mars Red Sky serve up a (relatively) unusual mix of grimy desert rock and psychedelia on their fourth record – the first time I’ve come across them. The Task Eternal is full of languid bass-led riffs and ethereal vocals buried deep in the mix. It’s definitely a grower. There are few initial hooks here, apart from maybe ‘Collector’, which breaks into a soaring, but very hummable, chorus. Other than that the album’s joys need a little mining. Highlights include the off kilter ‘Hollow Kings’ (which has a strange time signature and in some respects calls to mind Pure Reason Revolution’s 2006 masterpiece The Dark Third); ‘Soldier ON’ (which lands some real punches, albeit at glacial pace); and instrumental acoustic closer ‘A Far Cry’ (which is a brilliant, if initially jarring, departure from everything that precedes it). Lots to enjoy at the calmer end of ‘heavy’.

18. FEWS - Into Red

On their second record, FEWS (unnecessarily capitalised!) are understated and restrained. FEWS are a Swedish band, but made their first record based in the UK and, now, their second based in the US. Unsurprisingly, the influences of their various relocations can be heard on Into Red. At its core, this is post-punk, but it has leanings towards both American college shoegaze, as well as European krautrock and psychedelia. There are, admittedly, tracks that follow Fugazi’s archetypal post-punk template (e.g., ‘More Than Ever’, ‘Anything Else’), but not many. More often than not, propulsion is curbed in favour of delicacy, and the songs are gestated carefully over their runtime. My favourite track here is the dreamy, slow-build of ‘97’, in which soft melancholic nostalgia occasionally breaks into At the Drive-In style crescendos. It’s a good example of the considered minimalism deployed on the majority of this consistently interesting record.

17. Pelican - Nighttime Stories

Chicago’s Pelican have been around for getting close to two decades now, and have produced unfailingly strong work throughout that period. Nighttime Stories is album number six, but it’s also their first record for six years. A welcome return, then. As ever, Pelican have served up some top-notch instrumental post-metal here, which is both melodic and inventive. The mellower acoustic elements that were introduced on 2013’s Forever Becoming are wisely retained, but nonetheless Nighttime Stories is an overall heavier effort than their last, with sections that sound rather more Karma to Burn than Red Sparowes. Probably not Pelican’s very best work (I think I’d give that honour to 2007’s City of Echoes), but close, and a reminder of how good they are after a notable layover between albums.

16. Stella Donnelly - Beware of the Dogs

This wonderfully crafted debut offers up a collection of indie gems. There are a number of similarities between Stella Donnelly and another Australian singer-songwriter who has broken big in recent years, Courtney Barnett. Both write catchy, (seemingly) simplistic and sun-kissed guitar pop songs; both tackle huge and at times uncomfortable themes with a blend of vitriol and wit. The grabbing hands of consent-ignoring old men, the intimidation of the marginalised, victim blaming, the under-representation of female sexual desire (and more) are all explored by Donnelly with both a wink and a frown here. The disconnect between glittering musical sheen and heavyweight lyrics might have the potential to annoy, but for me the sound/words juxtaposition enriches rather than diminishes. Guitar music always needs more feminist icons: Donnelly is a refreshing new talent who has lots to say, and isn’t in the least bit scared of saying it.

15. John Garcia - John Garcia and the Band of Gold

The onetime Kyuss frontman – one of the godfathers of stoner rock – is back, and this is some of his best work for decades. The fact that there are relatively few surprises on John Garcia’s third ‘true’ solo album doesn’t lessen how enjoyable it is. And to be fair there’s a funkier, bluesier undercurrent to the usual stoner riffage on a number of tracks. The album definitely benefits from the changes in pace and tone that this brings: it’s not all pedal to metal. Garcia’s voice has always been unique, and those pipes are still working just fine, holding their own against the riffs provided by the classy ‘Band of Gold’ (which is the new name for the backing band that I think is pretty much the same one Garcia has worked with for years). But there’s also some light-touch balladeering (see the aptly named ‘Softer Side’), and the aforementioned funk/blues. Hardly a revelation, but an album that holds its own with much of Garcia’s impressive back catalogue. I’m still playing it every so often and that’s telling: as a January release, this gets extra credit for sticking around in my rotation for the full 12 months of 2019.

14. Wand - Laughing Matter

The last Wand record that crossed my path was 2015’s Golem, which crept on to the lower reaches of my list that year. That record was fun retro wizard-metal, but it ultimately had a limited shelf life. Having skipped Golem’s follow up, I was pleased, when I dipped back in with their latest, to find that Wand’s evolution has been stark. On Laughing Matter they’ve ditched the beards, riffs and pointy hats, and moved into progressive indie/mellow post-rock territory. Radiohead are a definite touchstone in a few places, although there’s lots else on show here too (much of it not Radiohead-y at all). Nicely straddling the prog/catchy tightrope and varying things up quite a bit song to song, this is accomplished stuff. As another early 2019 release, like John Garcia, its relatively high placing in part is due to the fact that it has hung around all year.

13. Mini Mansions - Guy Walks into a Bar . . .

I really enjoyed Mini Mansions’ last record, The Great Pretenders, which placed an impressive eighth on this list in 2015. That was their breakthrough (second) album, and on this follow up they revisit the same swaggering electronic rock approach that worked so well four years ago. Guy Walks into a Bar… is a more confident record, though, and it also has more of a sense of fun. They were always playful, but this time tracks like the infectious ‘Forgot Your Name’ are full on silly (in a good way). Elsewhere there’s occasionally more serious fare to be found, like the introspective ‘Hey Lover’ (featuring a very restrained Alison Mosshart). At its core, though, Guy Walks into a Bar… is even more of a party rock album than its predecessor, albeit (again) being a ‘rock’ album constructed from synths and loops as often as guitars and drums. A few dips in quality here and there mean it probably doesn’t quite match The Great Pretenders overall, but it isn’t far off. An album with lots to enjoy, if one that only offers smatterings of true depth.

12. Karfagen - Echoes from Within Dragon Island

What’s that? Flute-led symphonic bubblegum prog from Ukraine? Yes please. For anyone other than devotees of the symphonic prog scene (no, me neither usually), Karfagen will be an unusual listen, and are hard to describe. There’s an 80s feel (synthesisers!) – more specifically an 80s cartoon feel – but also slices of 70s rock, hook-heavy pop and Tolkienian forest dwelling nonsense. ‘My Bed is a Boat’ is an uncommonly straightforward highlight: a simple and beautiful ballad. It contrasts nicely with another, more representative, highlight: the complex multiple movements of ‘Dragon Island Suit’ (a ‘song’ that recurs like weaving vines throughout the album in various ‘parts’). This record might drive you nuts, but if you’re in the mood for overblown prog, it sits at the very top of that particular mountain. An upbeat, joyful and always exploratory ride. Great discovery. Think Teddy Ruxpin feeding candyfloss to a unicorn while fronting Jethro Tull.

11. Metronomy - Metronomy Forever

A case of mojo found again. While never reaching the heights of either 2011’s The English Riviera or 2014’s Love Letters (which came third and first on this list, respectively, in those years), Metronomy Forever is a massive improvement on 2016’s disappointing Summer 08. Much of the record is catchier than recent work, burrowing into the brain, but there are also more ambitious meanderings into electro-psychedelia (see ‘Lying Low’, ‘Miracle Rooftop’) and low-fi acoustic ballads (‘Upset My Girlfriend’). Metronomy began life as a Joe Mount solo project, and after the lukewarm – by which I mean ‘bad’ – reception to Summer 08 and some moonlighting writing for the likes of Robyn, he clearly decided it was time to revert to that one-man-band template: Metronomy Forever itself is, for the first time in a decade, all Mount’s own work (although he’s since reunited the band for touring). Unsurprisingly, the results include both singular focus (see perfect pop gem ‘Salted Caramel Ice Cream’) and self-indulgence (see the arty but comparatively dull ‘Ur Mixtape’). Overall, this is a notable (if flawed) move back in right direction for one of my favourite artists of the 2010s.

10. Big Business - The Beast You Are

We head into the top 10 with a sludge/stoner gutbuster of a record from Seattle’s Big Business. The bass/drums two-piece have been around for a while: I’ve come across some of their earlier stuff in the past, and have always enjoyed it. This record, though – their sixth – is the first time I’ve really fallen in love with them, and it represents their first placing on this list. It’s not just me: many reviews have seen The Beast You Are as a career high. Quite why is hard to say. It may be the return to being a duo after Big Business dabbled in bigger business by adding extra members. Now stripped back to just two, there’s notable focus to this album: this is lithe and yet still lumbering metal, faster than traditional sludge but with no less of the rumble. It’s a pummelling ride. The drum intro to ‘People Behave’ is enough on its own to have you turning to volume reduction technology, and ‘Time and Heat’ takes bass guitar de-tuning to new levels. In a similar way to Death From Above, this is terrifyingly heavy given that Big Business don’t even have enough members to include a guitar player.

9. Vampire Weekend - Father of the Bride

Time flies. It’s now more than a decade since Vampire Weekend’s self-titled debut launched them as the thinking person’s favourite frat band. Just as surprisingly, it’s been a full six years since their third – and easily worst – album, Modern Vampires of the City, was released. That record was more musically accomplished than the first two, but for me was tonally morose and managed to suck all the joy out of what they did. Like its immediate predecessor, Father of the Bride certainly covers some serious themes (the insignificance of humans in the universe; suicidal impulses; infidelity), but it’s also way more playful and revels in the mundane (weather; kettles; hills; cars). Musically, too, it blends the jangly reggae/indie mash-up of their early work with some rather more ‘serious’ influences (folk, and even jazz here and there). At times, Father of the Bride reminds me of Bob Dylan, and that’s a sure sign of a degree of departure from Vampire Weekend’s twinkly beginnings. Having said that, it’s all done with a wink and a smile – neatly side-stepping the puddles of dull that Modern Vampires of the City too often trudged through. A bit of a surprise that they’ve returned with something this good.

8. Ruff Majik - Tårn

Tårn is a record that rushes by in a lean 36 minutes. At the same time, it’s deceptively ingenious, and packs an awful lot into its fat-shorn runtime. Straddling the punk/metal borderline, South Africa’s Ruff Majik (not sure about their choice of misspelled name) pleasingly mix Black Flag and Black Sabbath. There’s both frantic speed-merchant punk vitriol and lethargic detuned mammothery – and that’s just what’s crammed into the first song. Similarly, standout track ‘Gloom & Tomb’ evokes both the do-it-yourself grime of a garage band and the flamboyant noodling of an 80s stadium act. I know the heavy music press have been quite critical of Johni Holiday’s (admittedly very unusual) voice, which has been perceived as whiny. But, for me, his voice makes a nice change from the usual unintelligible howls and screeches that proliferate across much punk/metal, and – along with inventive switching between very fast and very slow, and the occasional weird experiment – it helps Ruff Majik stand out.

7. Aldous Harding - Designer

New Zealand’s Aldous Harding is an idiosyncratic artist, whose work defies easy categorisation. Designer, her third record, is ambitious and ambiguous. Harding mixes common themes like anxiety, love, loss and hope, with far more opaque imagery. The braiding of hair, sitting in the back seat of a car as a child, a cold bangle on a wrist (seemingly representing humanity/the world), repeated references to shapes and the moulding of physical forms – lyrically, Designer is sometimes confusingly impressionistic, but it’s always poetic. Musically, I’ve seen Harding described as a ‘gothic’ singer-songwriter, but her work has far more light than that might suggest. I guess she is essentially playing in a toolbox that could be labelled ‘experimental folk’: multi-layered vocals, an acoustic guitar focus, but with various injections of brass or keys. Either way, Harding makes unusual music, supported by head-scratch-inducing videos and a persona (and overall approach) that’s shrouded in mystique. Great stuff: I heard nothing else that sounded like it in 2019.

6. Deaf Radio - Modern Panic

Emerging in mid-November, the sophomore album by Deaf Radio is the latest release on the list this year, impressively making it to the edges of the top 5 in just a few weeks. Deaf Radio are from Athens (Greece, not Georgia USA), but their work is firmly rooted in the Californian desert. Like its predecessor, 2017’s Alarm, there’s no getting round the fact that Modern Panic owes a huge debt to Queens of the Stone Age. Even the band’s name is surely a nod to the ‘radio skits’ on QOTSA’s 2002 masterpiece Songs for the Deaf. The deep love that Deaf Radio obviously have for Homme and Co is tattooed all over both of their albums so far (to the extent that one can’t help wonder whether Panos Gklinos is trying to make his voice sound like Josh Homme’s, to match his band’s musical reverence, or whether the stark vocal similarity is a happy accident). To be fair, album two sees Deaf Radio starting to adapt their QOTSA-patented template. Tracks like ‘Animals’ and ‘Fossils’ show there’s an evolution underway here, and more of Deaf Radio’s own ideas come through. Where Alarm was unquestionably ‘derivative of’, Modern Panic is merely ‘influenced by’ (or a ‘Homme-age’ to!), QOTSA – and it’s the significantly better record for that fact. However, even if you take the (no longer entirely fair) view still expressed by some critics that this is just a QOTSA rip off, Modern Panic is a better ‘QOTSA album’ than two out of the last three records that QOTSA have made themselves. For a long-time QOTSA fan like me, that’s a neat trick.

5. Palehound - Black Friday

Palehound’s third album is a delight. I’m not sure how their first two records passed me by (still need to go back and investigate those!) but Black Friday is the first time I’ve found them. I say ‘them’: although Palehound is strictly speaking a band, their leader Ellen Kempner’s DNA is infused into every note and word of this album. And she pours out her soul. I was already very much in love with this record before I knew that it was written immediately following the death of a close friend of Kempner’s, as well as during the emotional process of her partner undergoing gender reassignment. Having been conceived in that context, there is understandably real darkness here, but also a surprising amount of joy. Kempner’s self-doubt and pain is offset by a cross cutting theme of the beauty of being around other people and drawing on their (flawed but fundamental) love and support. The music is an ethereal indie: picked guitars, piano, soft synths and hovering, soulful vocals (with occasional injections of grimier rock). Every track is affecting and ‘real’. Black Friday is a massive accomplishment, and hard won.

4. Baroness - Gold & Grey

Baroness have been one of my most played artists in recent years. I discovered them in early 2016 and fell hard for their back catalogue, in particular their outstanding debut, 2007’s Red. But their last record was Purple in 2015. So – while they’ve been a mainstay for me for a while – this new album (their fifth) is the first one that’s been eligible for this list. Gold & Grey is ambitious as hell: a sprawling genre-hopping ‘double record’ (what does that mean in the digital age – basically, it’s just long). It’s also their best work since Red. Ostensibly a progressive/post-metal band, Baroness have never conformed to a particular genre, and across the 17 tracks on offer here they veer from traditional riffing/noodling, weird electro dreamscapes, industrial stomping, doomy choir orchestral and more. Gold & Grey is not for dipping in to. No hits here: ‘Throw Me an Anchor’ is definitely the way in, but, for all its chunky charms, is prosaic compared to the sheer musical recklessness of much of this monster. The ambition and size of this record admittedly comes at the price of variations in quality, but overall it wins out: artful, varied and complex. Gold & Grey requires, and from me got, many, many listens.

3. Valley of the Sun - Old Gods

In contrast to Gold & Grey, the pleasure in Valley of the Sun’s Old Gods is largely to be found in its simplicity. We’re still in the realms of heavy music, but Valley of the Sun plough a much straighter furrow. They picked a pretty darn good one, though. This record is crafted from some stone-age riffage of the highest order. Best on show is opener and title track ‘Old Gods’, which is hands down my favourite track by anyone in 2019. I’ve played that song to death (frankly so good that it probably pushed this whole album up a place or two). Of course, one swallow does not a summer make, and there are plenty of other treats to be had on Old Gods beyond its title track. Other highlights: the shameless party rock of ‘All We Are’ is boogie-tastic; ‘Means the Same’ evokes any number of 90s rock classics; ‘Into the Abyss’ flirts with prog but keeps it real. All this is framed by three perfectly pitched interlude tracks – the ‘old gods’ themselves – which somehow sit above proceedings but help give everything depth and texture. I’m not sure what longevity there is to be had here: I suspect this may fade quicker than some of the albums immediately below it on this list. But, right now, it’s certainly worthy of its third place spot.

2. Great Grandpa - Four of Arrows

I had heard Great Grandpa’s debut album, Plastic Cough, back in 2017. It was enjoyable and underpinned by obvious song-writing talent, but ultimately stuck too closely to a 90s grunge template – adhering pretty strictly to the musical legacy of the band’s native Seattle, 20+ years on. This sophomore effort is a major departure, not to mention a serious level-up, from that. Four of Arrows is an emotional indie record (emodie?), with orchestral leanings, ‘wide’ guitar sounds and elements of folk, post-rock and country. There’s passionate piano (‘Endling’), power-pop (single ‘Bloom’), avant-garde folk (‘English Garden’) and flashes of lo-fi vitriol (‘Digger’). Cross-cutting it all is Alex Menne’s wonderful voice, which oozes feeling and resonates in the gut. The lyrics shift between ‘story mode’ songs – telling tales of the major in the mundane – and more thematic explorations of, for example, vulnerability, mental illness and rebirth. Overall, Four of Arrows is exceptional throughout. It’s almost impossible to believe that this fully formed album was made by the same outfit that were so intent on Nirvana-bothering a mere 24 months or so ago. Great Grandpa have had quite a growth spurt.

1. Tool - Fear Inoculum

For me, Tool are quite simply the greatest metal band ever. I’d list two of their previous albums amongst my all-time favourite records: the career high double whammy of 1996’s Ænima and its follow up, 2001’s Lateralus. But that’s going back quite a way now, and their last record – 10,000 Days – was a whopping 13 years ago.

The ups and downs of lawsuits, wranglings and perfectionism had delayed things so often that Tool’s long-rumoured fifth album became a sort of mythical creature for fans. Finally, though, in August, it arrived. I was nervous: my stratospheric expectations for ‘new Tool’ had – years ago – been replaced with the trepidation of getting a legacy-damaging shadow of former glories. Admittedly, I don’t like Fear Inoculum as much as either Ænima or Lateralus. But there was no reason to worry. It is comfortably my favourite album of 2019. Indeed, I think it’s currently my favourite album of the 2010s. Even if it is, for me, still only their third best record...

Fear Inoculum is certainly Tool’s most ambitious work, and – for anyone who knows their previous output – that’s obviously saying a lot. It’s composed of only seven main tracks, although the digital version (which I’ve been listening to) includes a number of additional interlude/segue tracks. The ‘main’ tracks alone clock in at just under 80 minutes, the maximum length of a CD (meaning that the interludes were cut from hardcopy releases). As such, each ‘main’ track is huge, taking you on 10+ minute journeys through numerous, unpredictable prog-metal landscapes. The album is absolutely littered with polyrhythms: there are more on the track ‘7empest’ alone than I think I’ve ever heard of being used outside of classical music (hello Brahms!). And within them there are some seriously weird time signatures (a Reddit thread I read on one song’s mash-up of 11/8 + 22/8 + 7/8 made my head spin).

The number seven is a prominent theme throughout Fear Inoculum. It’s Tool’s seventh overall release (albeit fifth full-length studio album); it has seven main tracks; many of the crazy time signatures are built around sevens; some of its refrains occur in batches of seven; there are seven seconds of birdcalls and no music at the end of the (digital version of the) album; and the standout track on it is called ‘7empest’. Why sevens? Who knows: but this strange numerical touchstone is another sign that this record isn’t, well, normal.

Fear Inoculum’s great strength is also its weakness. In experimenting so much and caring so little what anyone thinks about those experiments, Tool have now hit peak idiosyncrasy, and it doesn’t all work for me. The interlude tracks are patchy and mostly feel unnecessary; even within the ‘main’ songs, the constant exploration means that some of the paths taken lead nowhere, or at least to places that I personally didn’t want to go (‘Descending’, for example, is killer for about 9 of its 12 minutes, but minutes 8-11 don’t really do it for me). As such, this record isn’t perfect, but I get the sense that its brilliance would have been somewhat dimmed if the band had restrained themselves in any way. I truly adore about 85% of it, but even the remaining 15% is never anything short of intriguing. I have returned to Fear Inoculum so many times (100s? Spotify doesn’t have a playcount…) over the last four months, and with every listen I find something new.

Fun fact: on its release, Fear Inoculum knocked Taylor Swift’s Lover (which had only been out for a week) off the number one spot on the Billboard 200 in the US. In other words, a bunch of weird, stubbornly experimental metal dudes in their 50s, who’ve been away for well over a decade, topped the album chart above pop royalty with easily their most impenetrable release (measured against a back catalogue of what, for most people, would be uniformly impenetrable releases). Yay.

Significantly better than it had any right to be. Welcome back. New album in 2032?

Spotify taster playlist for The List 2019

New for this year, to offer a taster of the albums on this list, I’ve created a Spotify playlist with a track from each, for you to dip in to. Having made the move to streaming, this is much easier than embedding tracks in to the descriptions for each album. Apologies to anyone who liked it done the old way...

SPOTIFY TASTER PLAYLIST: THE LIST 2019

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