The 20 best albums of 2021

Any best-of list is by definition incomplete: There’s always a great record that got overlooked, an abundance of riches that simply didn’t fit into the limited numbers of spaces available, a genre whose strengths weren’t properly appreciated. But even taking all of that into account, it’s pretty clear that this year created a hunger in many people for the addictive pleasures of pop music. Pop—and often mainstream pop, at that—takes up more space on this year’s list of the 20 best albums than it normally would. There’s plenty of rap, indie rock, punk, soul, and more, but there’s a clear dominance by that most populist of genres.And honestly? We’re not the least bit surprised. 2020 was a shitshow, to put it mildly, and 2021 has only partially recouped a sense of stability in this world. During such trying times, it’s only natural that our predilections might gravitate toward music that comforts above all else, that vibrates with the familiar frequencies of easy pleasures and offers a balm of simple melodies and rhythms. (And hey—for those who found the past 20 months just made them want to scream, we’ve also got The Armed.)But whether you’re looking for a new artist to fall in love with or checking to see if your own favorites made the list, the following are the albums that found the most common ground among the 11 critics who contributed to this year’s A.V. Club list. (If you are outraged that something isn’t on here, it was definitely at number 21.) There was no clear victor who broke away from the pack this year; the top five albums were all within spitting distance of one another. And all of these records made us fall in love with the immediate power of music all over again. Note to desktop users: If you’d like to read this in a scrolling format (and why wouldn’t you?), simply narrow your browser window.

When the pop star Halsey sings, “You tell yourself you’re fine, but you sabotage the things you love the most” on “Whispers”—a creeping, melancholic highlight of their fourth album, If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power—they define the LP’s mood. These songs often portray Halsey telling themself to get their shit together: Atop the rip-roaring guitars of “You asked for this,” they command themself to “be a big girl” while wondering if becoming a parent could ruin their music career. The album’s punk-meets-trip-hop sound soon quells that concern; with production from Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, Halsey sounds newly fanged and embittered, ready to kick down all the trapdoors in their mind and the real world alike. [Max Freedman]

What’s your favorite Madlib LP? Well, what’s the day of the week? The man doesn’t stop—has pointedly refused to stop—for over two decades: tropicalia and DOOM and free jazz and Blue Note jazz, the Oh No collab and the Jay Dee collab and here’s Freddie Gibbs’ masterpiece (twice) and so on. He’s crate-digging personified, embodied, smoke-choked crates of loops and vinyl crackle made mortal. Anyway, Sound Ancestors may just be your favorite Madlib LP for most days of the week: immaculately curated and sequenced, beats perfectly balancing the silly and the sublime. (Yes, that is a kazoo on “Loose Goose.” Probably.) Shout out to editor-mode Four Tet for wrangling something cohesive out of one of our wiliest and most engaging living musicians. Here’s hoping for more, more, more. [Clayton Purdom]

Arlo Parks is a poet as well as a songwriter, so it’s unsurprising that her Grammy-nominated debut album, Collapsed in Sunbeams, blurs the already-porous line between the art forms. “Collapsed in sunbeams, stretched out open to beauty however brief or violent,” she speaks to start the album, accompanied only by fluttery acoustic guitar. “I see myself ablaze with joy, sleepy eyed, feeding your cat or slicing artichoke hearts.” Those vivid lines set the tone for a gorgeous collection of indie-soul sprinkled with nods to Radiohead, jazz, and R&B. This music serves as a dreamy backdrop for Parks’ trenchant observations (“Why’d we make the simplеst things so hard?”) and mini-stories (“Caroline,” based on a real-life argument she witnessed), all of which touch on resiliency, comfort, self-acceptance, and joy. [Annie Zaleski]

Yacht rock meets the disco dance floor with U.K. duo Jungle, whose third album, Loving In Stereo, exists in the sweet spot between its exuberant eponymous debut and the heartbreak-inspired follow-up, For Ever. Loving In Stereo is the soundtrack to burst out of lockdown, to enjoy the last few weeks of summer sunshine with the top down, to avoid getting knocked in the head when the sail comes swinging around, and to sing along—gamely trying, and failing, to match the duo’s signature falsetto. On top of that, every song here has a dance-centric video, where the movements of the dancers express more than any conventionally scripted narrative, and the visual elevates these already effervescent jams to a whole other level of fizzing excitement. [Lily Moayeri]

Since she’s spent her adolescence in the public eye, you’d be forgiven for doing a double take at the blonde vixen hugging herself on the cover of Billie Eilish’s sophomore LP, Happier Than Ever. Harnessing her songwriting talent and throaty vocal prowess with more confidence than ever before, Eilish stuns on gut-wrenching opener “Growing Older”; dismisses fake friends on “Therefore I Am”; and takes a dreamy, wistful turn on “my future.” In that last track, Eilish remarks that she “wants to get to know myself.” Wherever Eilish is on that journey of self-discovery, it’s clear that Happier Than Ever was an important milestone. And it will endure as a shift for her career—from burgeoning to mature artist. [Nina Hernandez]

After six years, Adele returned with an album that broke away from the form that made her a global sensation. is the singer-songwriter’s most daring and colossal work yet, filled with lush and soulful string arrangements chronicling heart-wrenching lyrics of love and heartache. Adele has always penned songs about relationships with an apt hand, but 30 is her most vulnerable and raw work yet, channeling inspiration from jazz and. The last few songs of 30 kick the album into the stratosphere, with chill-inducing vocals and epic build ups. Even though loss lingers over the album, Adele imbues the work with desire, simmering rage… and ultimately hope. [Gabrielle Sanchez]

Forty years after releasing their debut album, Duran Duran is still committed to creating records that double as a dynamic DJ mix for chic, futuristic dance floors. The U.K. rock band’s 15th studio full-length, Future Past, is a glittery mix of propulsive, soulful disco (“Beautiful Lies”), funky synth-rock (“All Of You”) and soaring melodic ballads (the languid highlight “Wing”). And while Future Past contains several subtle nods to past Duran Duran eras—“cherry ice” is no doubt a Rio callback, and the band’s ’80s hits are a retro blueprint for the jubilant “Anniversary”—the album eschews more retro tendencies. Collaborations with pop star Tove Lo, Japanese rock band Chai, and British rapper Ivorian Doll add to the fresh vibe; the latter’s vocals on the funky “Hammerhead” are particularly great. [Annie Zaleski]

Just a year away from entering its fourth decade, the Minnesota group Low (now officially a duo, on album anyway) has continued to search for the right fusion of experimental sounds and arrangements with simple, indelible melodies. And on Hey What, Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker have done it to some of the most breathtaking results of their career. “Days Like These” alone would be enough to qualify this album as one of the year’s finest, but it’s paired with equally lush yet challenging numbers: The minimalist beauty of “Disappearing,” the epic ambient scope of “Hey,” the rhythmic thrum of “The Price You Pay (It Must Be Wearing Off)”… they stand apart yet gorgeously interconnect, as only the best albums do. Low has lost none of the fierce sonic exploration of , but it has rediscovered the transformative beauty at the heart of its deceptively sweet harmonies. [Alex McLevy]

“God, it’s brutal out here,” Olivia Rodrigo says in SOUR’s opening line. If there’s anyone who knows exactly how to capture contemporary teen angst and put words to those adolescent feelings, it’s Rodrigo. Faced with her first major heartbreak, the self-described “spicy Pisces” decided to make the best of that painful experience, writing a vulnerable and empowering record. Her first single, “Drivers License” became a pop-culture phenomenon, even , thanks to its nostalgia-inducing chorus that begs to be belted out. It made an immediate argument for Rodrigo as more than your average pop star, and it was especially surprising for it to come from a teen Disney star. With such a fantastic first single, there were high expectations—and Rodrigo delivered. SOUR is exciting and adventurous, taking as much influence from Paramore as it does Taylor Swift, all while still feeling fresh. [Tatiana Tenreyro]

The super-duo of Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak, a.k.a. Silk Sonic, push forward by looking backward. Their wide-collar ’70s-style funk and soul gives nods to Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, and James Brown as much as it does early 2000s hip hop. This combination provides an abundance of clichés from which Mars and .Paak drew: The hamming up of their Silk Sonic personas is tempered by tongue-in-cheek lyrics. This is welcome comic relief; leaning into the cheese is the only way forward on An Evening With Silk Sonic. Polished to a fault, the album doesn’t have the stank of the artists from the era Silk Sonic is tapping into, but with Mars’ tight approach and .Paak’s loose one, it works as a gleefully slick whole. [Lily Moayeri]

On her fifth album as The Weather Station, Tamara Lindeman reads the room. “I should get all this dying off of my mind,” she sighs majestically on Ignorance highlight “Atlantic,” “I should really know better than to read the headlines.” She surveys our present-day disconnection from nature, the crumbling climate, and one another atop sparkling, magical blends of disco drumming and ’80s soft pop, and her breathy contralto creates new worlds with every turn. “Parking Lot” finds her looking to the beautiful nature beyond man-made structures amid insistent percussion and rushing strings, and “Separated” is a peppy yet brooding laundry list of divisive things: work, science, arguments, daydreams. The sounds, though, invite you in: Ignorance is both a gesture at disconnection and its very antidote. [Max Freedman]

“Simz the artist, or Simbi the person?” That line, from album opener “Introvert,” encapsulates the conflict at the center of Little Simz’s . The North Londoner’s ambitious fourth studio album explores the tension between artistic vulnerability and an affinity for introversion, while contending with her personal and political struggles. At 19 tracks and a runtime of over an hour, Introvert might seem unwieldy, but there’s more than enough variety to justify length. With the help of frequent collaborator Inflo, Simz wears her musical influences on her sleeve, bouncing from Late Registration-era Kanye on tracks like “I Love You, I Hate You,” to Nigerian Afropop on “Point And Kill,” and London grime on “Rolling Stone.” [Baraka Kaseko]

Five years and a rehab stint removed from his last studio release, rapper Isaiah Rashad proved with the late summer release of The House Is Burning that he can still weave bitterly honest storytelling flow with trap, soul, and jazz influences into a seamless (and syrupy) package. Lead single “Lay Wit Ya” features Rashad and fellow Tennessee native Duke Deuce trading bars over a beat sampling Three 6 Mafia’s “Ridin’ In Tha Chevy”; “Score,” featuring SZA and 6LACK, finds Rashad singing his heart out about emotional baggage; and on “RIP Young” he restates his allegiance to label Top Dawg. The resulting record is an at times introspective, and at other times raucous, recapping of a man finding himself through the trials of life and fame. [Nina Hernandez]

Hardcore music has always been about self-empowerment and self-determination, even in its rawest forms. With Glow On, Turnstile says the genre’s quiet parts out loud, letting alterna-rock bangers and R&B interludes wrap around New York hardcore standards. It’s something Turnstile has been working to achieve for the past half decade, and Glow On is the sound of all those disparate ambitions coming together into one accessible package, with songs like “Mystery,” “Holiday,” and “Blackout” feeling like instant classics from the second they were released. It’s a record that will want to make people stagedive for the first time—and what they’ll find when they do is a whole scene there, ready to catch them. [David Anthony]

If you took the act of cliff-diving into an empty ravine at midnight on New Year’s Eve while a meteor hurtled toward an extinction-level event on earth, and transposed that sensation into music, you might come away with something akin to what The Armed create on ULTRAPOP. Andrew W.K.-like bombast meets throbbing hardcore meets bubblegum-pop melodies sand-blasted into gleaming nuggets of songcraft on the group’s fourth LP (and first for Sargent House)—but the addition of ethereally lovely moments of synth-laden simplicity elevate the group’s can’t-stop-won’t-stop mania into something more affecting. This is still as blistering an aural assault as one might imagine, but on tracks like “An Iteration” and “Where Man Knows Want,” it’s shot through with a fuzzed-out elegance as refined as any Nick Cave ballad, and as larger-than-life as an arena-rock concert in Valhalla. [Alex McLevy]

With its warm, inviting synths and honeyed, distortion-laden vocals, “17” is a Trojan horse of an opening track, leading unwary listeners straight into the heart of darkness with an appealing pop ditty. Because once they’re inside Any Shape You Take, Indigo De Souza goes right for the throat: “Darker Than Death,” “Die/Cry,” “Real Pain,” “Kill Me”—these are tracks whose titles announce their lacerating intent. But unlike a host of wannabe-profound imitators, De Souza has the chops to actually deliver on such promises of deep-end emotional catharsis. Whether gently strumming a guitar and delivering a paean to how she’d “rather die than see you cry,” or stomping on the pedal to launch into a full-throated series of collective screams on “Real Pain,” the musician finds a through line of intensity that rarely lets up, even when she detours into downright hummable dance-pop, as on the earnest romance groove, “Hold U.” If anything, that track is the lifeline keeping our (and her) head above water; the roiling indie-rock sermon delivered here is as powerful as any this year, but even oracles of brutal emotional honesty need respite now and then. [Alex McLevy]

Uncharitably, you could say that Tyler, The Creator has finally created an album as good as everyone said his previous ones were. But let’s be charitable. Because beneath all of the artist’s earlier provocations and earnest flowerings beats a heart of unusual warmth: quick to love, humor an invitation rather than repel it, heart-eyes at beauty in all its forms (sonic, human, automotive, etc). And here, at last, that heart speaks in a language as complex as it deserves. These widescreen, Saturday-morning symphonies wed synthesized choirs, Lex Luger horns, ’90s R&B, the buzz of a studio in full creativity and the breeze of a Mediterranean afternoon. And, good lord, does it speak in bars, language flowing past the margins and pushing the production into new territory. The record goes everywhere. The reference points are both manifold and rarified: early De La Soul’s joyful omnivorousness, turn-of-the-millennium Dungeon Family’s freewheeling emceeing, mixtape-era Weezy’s rocket-powered propulsion. (Drama’s presence is almost Tarantino-esque, in this regard.) Tyler tells a story of heartache here, but the music speaks otherwise. A love triangle? The man is in love with everything. [Clayton Purdom]

When Snail Mail—Lindsay Jordan’s solo project—emerged in 2016 with the EP Habit, and then gained massive attention with debut album , people on social media accused Jordan of being an “industry plant.” It was a silly assessment, but it was thrown around because it beggared belief to see how the then-teenaged Jordan skyrocketed to stardom so quickly. But in case naysayers still don’t get why Snail Mail repeatedly gains critical acclaim, Valentine should silence them: It features her most stunning work yet. Her lyrics are witty and brutally honest, without shying away from tackling her insecurities and faults. They’re anthems in the making, particularly with the title track’s chorus: “So why’d you want to erase me, darling valentine? You’ll always know where to find me when you change your mind.” And the music itself takes Jordan to new heights, incorporating synths and other touches that allow her to expand far beyond melancholic guitar-based indie rock. [Tatiana Tenreyro]

As far back as her 2008 debut Fearless, Jazmine Sullivan has proven to be a prolific songwriter. She’s incredibly adept at writing deeply personal and empathetic stories of Black women grappling with love, sex, and self-confidence. That talent is on full display on Heaux Tales, just the Philly-born singer-songwriter’s second solo project in a decade. Across eight songs and six spoken-word testimonies from different women in her life, Sullivan crafts humanizing portraits of Black women with remarkable kindness. Like on the bittersweet “The Other Side,” and its spoken word companion “Precious’ Tale,” where she yearns for a happier life and dreams of moving to Atlanta to be with a successful rapper. Or “Girl Like Me,” and its companion “Amanda’s Tale,” where she and fellow Grammy-nominee H.E.R. confront their body image issues stemming from social media and a failed relationship. But more than just being thematically rich, Heaux Tales is also endlessly listenable, with songs like “Pick Up Your Feelings” and “Put It Down” finding Sullivan at her most playful. [Baraka Kaseko]

With Japanese Breakfast’s third studio album, treads into brand new territory, one brimming with overwhelming joy in the face of uncertainty. On opening track “Paprika,” Zauner asks, “How’s it feel to be at the center of magic / To linger in tones and words? / How’s it feel to stand at the height of your powers / To captivate every heart? / Projеcting your visions to strangers who feel it / Who listen to linger on еvery word.” It perfectly sums up both the euphoria and spellbinding nature of Jubilee and Zauner’s current status as a singer-songwriter. With potent words and full-bodied arrangements, pockets of tenderness reveal themselves amongst hypnotic melodies and recurring themes of yearning and grief. No song settles for anything other than unadulterated beauty; like the perfectly ripe persimmons on the cover, each one feels like a sweet gift as Zauner delves into a new, ever-expansive frontier. With Jubilee, the artist ambitiously shot for the stars—and landed in a dreamy, romantic universe all her own. [Gabrielle Sanchez]