The List 2020

Welcome to The List 2020

Hmm. 2020.

Despite everything this year, music was of course still made and played.

So, as we have all been trying to do in so many ways, here I attempt to carry on as normal, and present The List 2020: my traditional 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. This is therefore the 20th anniversary of the tradition, and this my 21st annual list. All of my previous lists are also available online – see the bottom of this year’s pages for links.

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

I’ve tried not to talk about you-know-what as I go through these albums, but there are inevitably some mentions of it here and there. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy the sheer unimportance of me discussing 20 excellent albums in excessive detail.

Merry Christmas, and wishing us all a much happier New Year.

20 // Bombay Bicycle Club // Everything Else has Gone Wrong

It’s been six years since the last Bombay Bicycle Club record. In 2014 I wrote that it was a testament to their quality that they never release the same record twice. That’s true again here, with album number 5 once more sounding decidedly them, while at the same time moving in yet another direction to all its predecessors. Everything Else has Gone Wrong is a comparatively subdued and stripped down record. Despite flashes of the kinetic (‘Is It Real’), this album for the most part neither soars nor rocks: it envelops. A warm, predominantly calm experience, this is another excellent piece of work. It’s not, for me, truly vintage Bombay Bicycle Club (for that see either 2011’s A Different Kind of Fix or 2009’s I Had the Blues but I Shook them Loose). But it gets marks for longevity (it was a January release), and for – yet again – refraining from easy replication of previous successes. Note that the title track is especially awesome. It’s telling that all 5 Bombay Bicycle Club records have made this list in their respective years.

19 // Coogans Bluff // Metronopolis

Named after an obscure early Clint Eastwood movie from the 60s (minus the possessive apostrophe), Germany’s Coogans Bluff blend soul, psychedelia, stoner rock and classic rock. Metronopolis features prominent, funky horns (‘Gadfly’), soft rock (‘Sincerely Yours’), and noodling 70s guitar with added Hammond organ (‘Soft Focus’). A notably uncomplicated approach to the rhythm section, as well as minimal vocals, means that despite its progressive leanings and flower-power trappings, things never get too messy or weird. Put simply, there are plenty of hooks thrown in with the more experimental stuff. It’s not perfect: the second half of the album tails off a little, and the more modern electronic elements don’t entirely work when mixed with the overall 60s/70s vibe. A spring album, I definitely played it less as the year went on, but I did keep coming back to it even in the second half of the year, which is a sign of how much I enjoyed it. Overall Metronopolis is an excellent record that neatly straddles invention and accessibility.

18 // Summer Camp // Romantic Comedy

Doubling as the (married couple) indie duo’s fourth record and the soundtrack to the documentary directorial debut of one half of that duo, Summer Camp’s Romantic Comedy is a delight. I’ve not seen Elizabeth Sankey’s film yet: it’s a doc on the history of the romantic comedy, and I understand it gives far more artistic credit to the genre than romcoms usually receive, while also subjecting their heteronormative happy-ever-afters to a firm dose of 2020 vision. This excellent collection of songs fit that mix of celebration and critique perfectly, and I’m sure elevate the film, but the album for me has been entirely standalone. One part breezy quirk-pop; one part rumination on the lies our culture tells us (most pertinently, that all men are princes charming); one part genuinely heartfelt sketches of love and loss. It’s a beautiful, if occasionally arch, record. The album has been (over?) produced – by the duo’s other half, Jeremy Warmsley – to within an inch of its life. But, like many romcoms themselves, the polished sheen is important to the overall aesthetic. Shiny but with lots to see in the reflection.

17 // The Wants // Container

On their impressive debut, The Wants employ a notably minimalist approach to post-punk, in keeping with their New York scene roots. An interesting additional twist is the (light) infusion of dance beats (American techno, especially) and – occasionally – Depeche Mode style dream pop into that stripped back NYC post-punk framework. Although Container is a debut, members of The Wants have been working in various other well established East Coast post-punk bands over the last decade, and the benefits of that experience are clear to see. This album is confident and assured, particularly in its understanding of when less in more. Even its rockier tracks, such as (celebration of middle America – often so derided) ‘The Motor’, feel controlled and carefully paced; as frontman Madison Velding-VanDam repeatedly notes on that track, ‘I am calm’. Overall, an excellent album from the precise (more ‘math’) end of post-punk, with some unexpected dance beats and a very sure sense of self.

16 // Joensuu 1685 // ÖB

Joensuu 1685’s debut record was released in 2008, at the tail end of the noughties boom in Nordic melodic post-rock. That was a large and eclectic movement, which went in numerous directions: e.g., Iceland’s Sigur Rós aiming for anthemic movie soundtrack, Norway’s Poor Rich Ones injecting a singer-songwriter vibe, and Denmark’s Efterklang venturing off into the wilds of experimental weirdness. As one of Finland’s notable contributors to that particular post-rock party, Joensuu 1685 added indie rock (and even a touch of grunge) with great results. But then that was it: one album and done. 12 years later, though, suddenly (and completely unexpectedly) album 2 has arrived. And it is way better than could reasonably have been expected of any band returning after a more than decade long hiatus. The rough edges of their debut have been wisely sanded down, although an indie rock underpinning remains on at least some of ÖB’s tracks. Added to the mix is a confident – almost lazily confident – dollop of shoegaze, which sees Joensuu 1685 moving away from the complex end of post-rock and instead opening their arms to offer up a soft, symphonic hug. It’s lovely. And it’s good timing. 2020 definitely could do with a hug.

15 // Momma // Two of Me

Momma’s second record is an ambitious concept album, which perplexes lyrically and stretches the musical styles from which it borrows. Those musical threads reach back to the 90s, mixing the angular indie of Sleater Kinney or Cat Power with the more introspective end of the Seattle grunge scene. Two of Me is often a languid record, with drawled vocals and patches of mellow, building dread. To the extent that it has hooks, they are the type that worm rather than grab. Lyrically, good luck following the concept album narrative: a brawl at a provincial carnival that somehow results in various unsavoury folk being sent to the ‘Bug House’, a purgatory of sorts (I think). But it doesn’t really matter – the consistently weird lyrics certainly act to unsettle, and you don’t need to grasp the full narrative to benefit from the tone it creates. The result is a record that, while built on a few very familiar musical foundations, is thematically and sonically unique.

14 // Laura Marling // Song for Our Daughter

Laura Marling only turned 30 in February, but these days she’s something of a veteran. Song for Our Daughter is her seventh record, and that’s not counting collaborative side projects like 2018’s Lump or her excellent early work as a teenager with Noah and the Whale. And it’s not just the volume of work she has produced but the maturity of it: here, Marling entirely convinces as the weary troubadour, the voice of bitter experience. She is now in supreme control of her material; this latest collection of minimal folk songs (minimal even by her own previous standards of layer-stripping) are absolutely watertight. The lyrics and emoting are, as ever with Marling, just as important as the music, with the construct of the metaphorical ‘daughter’ whom she addresses framing things nicely. Song for Our Daughter is now, I think, my favourite album by Marling, overtaking her outstanding debut, 2008’s Alas, I Cannot Swim, in my estimation. If you’ve not heard it, I’d recommend listening to the version of ‘Fortune’ – just voice and acoustic guitar – that she played live via Zoom on The Adam Buxton Podcast. It will make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

13 // Cavetown // Sleepyhead

Robin Skinner (aka Cavetown) is only 21, but Sleepyhead is already his fifth album. From age 16 he’s followed a DYI path to success via means that old people like me can’t fully understand: hit YouTube channel, self-releases on bandcamp, Twitch live shows. His fanbase is now, apparently, bigger than many mainstream stadium acts (although I suspect how true that is may depend on how one measures a fanbase). Anyway, all that passed me by: Sleepyhead – his major label debut – is my first exposure. It is certainly not revolutionary but it is of very high quality. Skinner mixes lo-fi indie rock with ukulele ballads, sitting at all times pretty squarely in the ‘singer-songwriter’ bracket. Although he’s British, a key influence to Skinner’s sound is clearly the Midwestern US lo-fi scene of the 90s and noughties, but he adds a new modern (and European) flavour. Emotionally fragile but unguarded, and self-consciously woke, this record was made by and for people a lot younger than me. But, age notwithstanding, I’ve just loved the quality of the songwriting. And it’s also nice to know the internet is making stars of people who care about far more than merely that stardom.

12 // ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead // X: The Godless Void and Other Stories

As its name (or at least the pre-colon part of it) suggests, X is the tenth record by the Texan art rock stalwarts. Over the last 25 years or so, they’ve have had a notably inconsistent output. That’s been my experience of them live. When I saw them supporting Foo Fighters in 2000 they were truly awful; whereas a gig of theirs in 2012 was one of my best shows of the 2010s. This inconsistency has also long been true of their recorded output. For every Madonna (1999 – good), there’s been a So Divided (2006 – bad!!!). X is somewhere near the top of the mixed bag. It’s not as good as the album that remains their masterpiece, Source Tags and Codes (2002), or even the more recent highpoint of Tao of the Dead (2012). But it comes very close. It’s a record that feels more vibrant than they have in a while, but it’s also a bit less self-consciously ‘arty’ than much of their back catalogue: this iteration of their ‘art rock’ template is more focused on the ‘rock’ part. That said, X starts with the swirling, Hans Zimmer-esque swell of ‘The Opening Crescendo’, and there are other progressive forays up and down the scales (‘Children of the Sky’) and some orchestral floating (‘Eyes of the World’). But there’s also focused scuzz (e.g., ‘All Who Wander’). Overall, this falls firmly in the ‘good’ portion of ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead’s output. Even money album 11 will be rubbish.

11 // Mother’s Cake // Cyberfunk!

Over the last decade, Austrian trio Mother’s Cake have carved out a reputation as psychedelic dream-masters, tripping well past the likes of Tame Impala and Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats to curate their own special tie-dye utopia. In the past it’s all been a bit much for me, but on album 4 they’ve gone less experimental psyche, more eclectic rock. There are way more riffs to be had this time. Ok, I’m in. While there remain Grateful Dead touchstones, there are also tracks that sound like the Arctic Monkeys, and others that reach for full on Rage Against the Machine. Cyberfunk! manages to stay pretty weird while both moving their sound forward and grounding it (at least comparatively). It heads in a host of directions, opening doors variously marked ‘blues’; ‘funk’; ‘garage rock’; and (unexpectedly) ‘hip-hop’ and ‘nu metal’, amongst others. There’s a lot going on, and it’s all delivered confidently and with a twinkle in the eye. Easily their best record in my view. Let them eat cake.

10 // Pure Reason Revolution // Eupnea

Distressingly, it’s now been 14 years since Pure Reason Revolution released their debut album, the modern prog masterpiece The Dark Third. It’s an album I’ve counted as one of my very favourites ever since. But the two records that followed it were poor, and it’s now a decade since even the latter of those was released. On reuniting, Pure Reason Revolution made lots of the right noises about aiming for the sound and approach of The Dark Third with this comeback record. And while Eupnea isn’t on the same level as that (which would have been a big ask) – it is, by a distance, the closest they’ve come since. It starts dreamy, with ‘New Obsession’ initially soothing you toward the driving bassline that dominates its second half. The melancholic duet of ‘Maelstrom’ is just lovely, even in its heavier parts, while ‘Ghosts & Typhoons’ delivers the biggest punch of the record with some chunky on/off riffing. When it was announced I was both excited and apprehensive about Eupnea: turns out it was as good as could reasonably have been hoped for. It’s great to have them back and truly delivering again. [fun fact: at some point in the last 10 years Jon Courtney started to look quite a lot like a turtle.]

9 // Pabst // Deus ex Machina

Berlin’s Pabst deliver a set of consistently excellent punky power pop songs on their honed sophomore outing. It’s a record that initially presents as an exercise in oik droogism (NB: the video to one of the album’s standout tracks, ‘Legal Tender’, is clearly heavily influenced by A Clockwork Orange). But it’s more than that too. Pabst have written some really grown up pop-rock here. The music often has more depth than first it seems (case in point, ‘Wish.com’). The same can be said for the lyrics, which, while playing the teenage carefree card, also slide into themes like urban disillusionment (‘Skyline’) and the normalisation of drug use (‘Ibuprofen’). Equally, at its core, Deus ex Machina is a hook heavy bounce-fest, which mostly rockets from one memorable chorus to the next. It’s a very fun ride. File under ‘sehr gut’.

8 // Liberty // Haven’t Felt this Great Since 1988

Mattias Kolstrup is apparently a household name in his native Denmark, after fronting platinum sellers Dúné over the last decade or so. Can’t say I’d previously heard of him, but this debut record by his new band Liberty has the potential to make Kolstrup a household name much further afield. Doubling down on the ‘pop’ half of Dúné‘s indie-pop approach, Liberty make irrepressibly catchy 80s influenced guitar pop. This is an album that gets right to the point: 8 songs in 23 minutes (i.e. bordering on EP territory). Kolstrup has a beautiful, distinctive voice, and his songs are all extremely easy to love. Haven’t Felt this Great Since 1988 is a feel-good, hook heavy and unselfconscious record. It has been an important antithesis to the trend towards the gloomier side of music I’ve been drawn to in a year that’s been all too full of gloom. Smile inducing.

7 // Post Animal // Forward Motion Godyssey

On their third record, Chicago’s Post Animal have honed their previous mix of prog, psychedelia and riff rock to reach ludicrously effective levels. This is work that veers in numerous directions, but as an initial point of reference think Tame Impala with 30% added Black Sabbath. Forward Motion Godyssey opens with ‘Your Life Away’, a soft, proggy ramble that eventually gives way to building synths, and, finally, triumphant guitar. This brilliant but somewhat ramshackle start – which shouldn’t work as an opening to an album but really does – is then immediately abandoned in favour of riff driven focus on track 2 (‘Post Animal’, a track named after the band itself: which itself is a weird choice for track 2 of album 3). This 1-2 microcosm is shorthand for the whole album: Forward Motion Godyssey is an exploratory record that rewards investment and heads down a large number of different paths – from the straight and narrow to the wild and open. ‘In a Paradise’ is a masterclass in accessible prog rock (hum it as you try to unpick it) and ‘Schedule’ is a wonderful glittering piece of pop psychedelia. But there are also much weirder mood pieces on show (see ‘The Whole’, or ‘Sifting’). Overall, it’s a perfect mix of exploration and hooks, and has kept me coming back again and again.

6 // Sorry // 925

When this debut record, from North London’s effortlessly cool Sorry, emerged in March, it was near-universally acclaimed in the music press. Rightly so, but that fact was particularly impressive given that Sorry had cultivated what one might call a somewhat hostile relationship with journalists before they even had a record to promote. Branded ‘difficult’, Sorry’s unwillingness to play ball with the machine now seems entirely in keeping with this record. 925 is an album of millennial revolution, albeit a revolution by way of eye rolls, side swipes and raised eyebrows rather than tub thumping vitriol. Sorry, I think, take the view that there is little point in trying to fight the boomers. Instead, they provide a snaking, languid indie rumination on being 20something in 2020, punctuated with spiked guitar shards and some big doses of disgust. There are some wonderful lyrics throughout, with gaslighting and emotional abuse (‘I’m your muse, nothing more, nothing more, than a four letter word’) being representative themes. It’s not a ‘likeable’ record exactly, but it is a brilliant one.

5 // Canshaker Pi // Okay Decay

Quality, inventive indie rock from The Netherlands. Okay Decay is Canshaker Pi’s third record, and it’s a big step up. I’d liked both the riot-indie track ‘Shaniqua’ (from 2016’s debut EP), and the slow burn single ‘If Kelly Doesn’t, Who Will?’ (from their 2018 sophomore record – a track that got mucho radio play in the US), but not enough to investigate the releases on which they appeared. That changed when the excellent bass-led twister ‘Glass’ appeared on my ‘new and notable’ playlist in January. When the full album emerged a few weeks later, it showcased a more mature, versatile and confident Canshaker Pi. I’ve seen the band, and this album in particular, commonly described as post-punk in the music press. But for me it’s more rooted in Pavement-esque lo-fi, (including the sardonic lyrics). It didn’t come as a surprise to learn Stephen Malkmus had previously produced some of their work, cause you can hear his influence throughout. There are still frenetic moments (e.g., ‘Your Way’ recalls Maxïmo Park), but this is slacker indie at heart. However defined, Okay Decay is consistently excellent and amounts to a considerable step forward for this already promising band from Amsterdam.

4 // War on Women // Wonderful Hell

On their third album, Baltimore’s War on Women serve up some top quality hardcore punk, with an extra helping or two of bile. Fiercely political, as their name suggests, War on Women’s main target is the patriarchy. Opener ‘Aqua Tofana’ sets out their stall early by urging abused women to kill their abusers. Radical feminism is front and centre, but it is not Wonderful Hell’s sole thematic focus. For example, there is the passionate ode to the Black Lives Matter movement, ‘White Lies’, and the title track’s deconstruction of the social and economic inequities of Trumpism. Fair to say, lyrically, this album is at the other end of the spectrum from the ‘collection of vacuous love songs’ pop template. Musically, War on Women have really nailed it this time, with inventive but very catchy riffs and choruses. This is hardcore punk, and so is never exactly an easy ride, but it is very much at the accessible end of that genre. Both thematically and sonically, therefore, think way more Against Me! than Biohazard. Its no-punches-pulled lyrics and musical hooks means Wonderful Hell could and should have an appeal well beyond most hardcore punk. Vitriolic, vital, and very 2020.

3 // Elder // Omens

Boston’s Elder have been around for more than a decade now, but I’d never got truly sucked in to their work before. Omens – album 5 – is a game-changer, though, which sees Elder establishing themselves as progressive stoner rock royalty, alongside the likes of Baroness (undoubtedly the most royal in that particular court) or British counterparts Sail (aside: who’s planned 2020 record unfortunately seems to have been lost to Covid chaos). Despite moving into some heavy areas at times, Omens – unlike a lot of Elder’s earlier stuff – definitely shares more DNA with traditional prog rock than it does with Tool or similar experi-metal types. For the most part, Elder are more concerned with texture, layering arrangements and dictating mood than they are with rhythm or riff. Omens is one of those ‘rewards repeated listens’ records, full of long (i.e., very long) songs that move through various phases, taking winding and complex paths. There’s real beauty in Omens, and at times it leans towards a classical music sensibility, like the prog bands of yore. But, well, still stoner rock... Headphones and darkness (or, as the Stereogum review prescribed, a set of clouds to watch float by) will best maximise the experience.

2 // Phoxjaw // Royal Swan

This year there were two albums that were way ahead of the pack, easily claiming spots 1 and 2.

The first of them comes courtesy of Bristol’s much hyped heavy music trailblazers, Phoxjaw, who (finally) delivered their long awaited first full-length this summer. Fair to say, Royal Swan meets expectations: this debut is a doozy. Adopting a traditional soft/heavy dynamic but then running it through their very special mangle of post-punk, stoner rock, and, importantly, hardcore, Phoxjaw are the real deal. Yet, at times, given this is twisted heavy music, Royal Swan is very accessible: the chorus of ‘Triple AAA’ almost sounds like 3 Colours Red, and the closing title track shifts into an ethereal refrain that sees us on our way unexpectedly becalmed. But, elsewhere, Phoxjaw might well upset the unwary. The vicious guitar screech on ‘You Don’t Drink Unicorn’s Blood’, the feral yelps on ‘Bats for Bleeding’, or the really disturbing lyrical depths of ‘An Owl is a Cat with Wings’ (aside: winner, 2020 best song name award) all illustrate that despite the odd catchy chorus Phoxjaw are happy to scupper their potential for unit shifting. Although they sound really quite different, they remind me a bit of Korn in that way. Mix it all together and I can’t think of a band that operates in quite the same territory that Phoxjaw have now set up shop in – but I also think their sound is palatable enough that by 2022 we can expect it to be replicated across a large chunk of British heavy music, with lesser copycats running rife. Abrasive, crafted, accessible, punishing and real (maybe too real here and there: some of the lyrics genuinely chafe), Royal Swan is an outstanding debut.

1 // Jonathan Hultén // Chants from Another Place

The debut solo record by Sweden’s Jonathan Hultén is an absolute triumph. This record is my first encounter with Hultén, and I found it by investigating (as I do a few times a year) the latest releases on KScope – perhaps my favourite indie label right now. But it turns out that Hultén already has a big following as guitarist of experimental black/Norse metal goth nutbags Tribulation. Chants from Another Place is nothing like his previous work with Tribulation (a band that, when I went back and investigated, it’s fair to say I did not like). Instead of black metal, Hultén’s solo material is avant-garde folk. Essentially, he has left the realms of Cradle of Filth and entered those of Nick Drake. And the results are stunning.

The ‘folk’ on show here very much has its roots in European tradition, rather than, say, the NYC folk scene. It has layered, ethereal, hymnal qualities to it. Indeed, Chants from Another Place is a most apt title. The ‘chanting’ reaches its peak on the a-cappella ‘Ostbjorka Brudlat’, on which Hultén overlays multiple vocal tracks to build a grand place in which to lose oneself. With no instruments in sight. Elsewhere, melancholic ‘The Floating World’ is nothing but instrument; indeed, nothing but piano. For someone known as a ‘guitarist’, it is clear that Hultén’s vocal talent and musicianship (beyond just the 6-string) are outstanding.

There are a few more ‘rock’ moments, when the electric guitar suddenly gets plugged in, such as on the meticulously constructed but brief ‘Outskirts’. The main focus, though, is a combination of hymnal, experimental folk (see ‘Holy Woods’; ‘Wasteland’), and more straight-ahead pop-folk (see my favourite track on this, or any, album in 2020, the fantastic ‘Next Big Day’).

Added to all this is a wonderful presentation and persona: one that is notably different from, but is nonetheless a continuation of, Hultén’s goth mystique from his Tribulation days. As a solo performer he is androgynous and beautiful, subsumed in culture-blending bombastic consumes and artful make-up. Yet, when performing, he also has a slight snarl and harsh stare that undercut the beautiful pageantry. Quite simply, folk music doesn’t usually put on a show like this. I can’t wait to see Hultén live, whenever such things again become possible. Until then, his full performance from the 2018 Fishing on Orfű festival is available on YouTube. I’d urge you to watch it.

Chants from Another Place was released in March. It became my album of the year almost immediately and has stayed at the summit ever since. Frankly – however much I’ve loved Phoxjaw’s wonderful debut – nothing else released in 2020 came near to catching this record.