I always like to write this in January, just in case something sneaks in to my December listening that I know I can’t live without.
But to be honest, this year I just haven’t had time to listen to music the way I’d like to. Between top surgery (and recovery) in April, prepping (and recovering) from our wedding in October, and learning how to be a therapist, I simply have not had much time to dick around at a desk while listening to music. It’s been a great year for many good things, but not a great year for me to stay caught up on the newest releases. When I read No Depression’s top 10, I wasn’t even aware some of those albums had been released. I’ll be spending January trying to catch up on reviews for albums from this past fall.
With all that being said, here are the 10 albums that — amidst all the good and the intensity — stuck out to me the most. So you know they did something important. This list isn’t a ranking so much as a more or less chronological list of each album’s release.
I’ve already got something on my Album of the Year list for 2023, so here’s to a new year of important, urgent music — and the ability to take it all in.
You can find a Spotify playlist here and a Tidal playlist here.
- Maya de Vitry (Violet Light) — This is a curiously intimate album and one of de Vitry’s best. I wrote it up in No Depression a year ago and have been thinking about it — and “How Bad I Wanna Live” ever since. Incubated during lockdown, Violet Light is an intense exploration of the sensual and intangible, the things about this Earth that make life worth living, whether or not you can lay your hands on them. Violet Light is an album of yearning, satisfaction, and counting one’s immaterial riches.
- Quiet Hollers (Forever Chemicals) — Shadwick Wilde’s band is restless, endlessly questing in pursuit of truth and building sound. I fell in love with Quiet Hollers’ folk punk way back when this blog first began, but they’ve taken me on a wild ride through just about every rock’n’roll subgenre in the ensuing decade. Forever Chemicals is a darkly pulsing interpretation of indie rock and new wave, with some industrial intensity thrown in. Not really my bag at all, but Wilde’s lyrics and vulnerability make a musical form that is all about power and alienation into something deeply touching.
- Jana Pochop (The Astronaut) — Choosing one song to feature from The Astronaut is a cruel exercise. Fortunately, you’ll want to listen to the album the whole way through. Pochop’s meditations on connection, belonging, and longing float to the heavens. Pochop wields a number of freak folk influences throughout the record, with songs that are as humorous as they are lonesome. These lyrics are crafted with care and might just make you see the world in a new way once you leave Pochop’s orbit.
- Jessye DeSilva (Landscapes) — Top surgery was the first real surgery I’ve been through — and hopefully the last for a good long time. It was a funny thing — during the day, I’d have a totally normal level of energy, maybe take a nap in the afternoon, I wasn’t aware of much pain; but then I just couldn’t fall asleep at night. Landscapes, Jessye DeSilva’s first full-length album, kept me company. Jessye’s explorations of gender, love, and family are painted with grandeur, their voice swelling to dramatic crescendos before placing us gently back into folk rock territory. “Family Tree” may be a humbler entry on this album, but its celebration of queer chosen families stuck with me throughout my recovery — whether I had any music on, or just in the radio in my head.
- Jon Tyler Wiley (The Longing) — This is another one where I couldn’t just choose one song for the playlist — so I didn’t. This is an album that needed far more attention than it got. Wiley is a whiz with words and the album spans the breadth of Americana. The Longing just about oozes confidence as Wiley and his band effortlessly swing from nostalgia, sadness, ambition — and even a little goofy fun. When it comes to Americana, it doesn’t get much better than this.
- Camp Cope (Running With the Hurricane) — Speaking of not getting much better, Camp Cope’s sophomore release does not rest on its laurels one bit. The Australian band never shies from tough issues like surviving abuse, confronting sexism, or enduring past homophobia. Throw in climate change on Running With the Hurricane and you’ve got a breathtaking distillation of all the 21st century anxieties, neatly packaged in three power chords and the unvarnished truth.
- Paisley Fields (Limp Wrist) — This is Paisley’s most personal — and most ambitious — project to date. Paisley’s always had a way with words, but these songs provide a huge catharsis — even moreso live. On Limp Wrist, Paisley Fields digs deep into his experience growing up in rural Iowa as a closeted gay and gender-creative person. She transitions through sadness, anger, humor, and — above all — triumph with grace and panache. Paisley Fields knows exactly who he is, and this album encourages you to do the same.
- Peter Mulvey and SistaStrings (Love Is the Only Thing) — For those who like their truth packaged with a little more elegance, Love Is the Only Thing s a stunner of an album. Mulvey unspools his earthy lyrics with humility and warmth while the duo SistaStrings work their magic with cello, violin, and their own voices. Mulvey casts a critical — but kind — eye on the state of America, reminding us all to speak truth to power, and to do it in a way that invites everyone to the table.
- Jake Blount (The New Faith) — When Jake arrived on the scene with Spider Tales a few years ago, it was clear he was going to make big moves. On The New Faith, he practically reinvented himself. Contextualizing his interpretations of Black roots music with a truly chilling narrative of post-apocalyptic climate change. (Unlike Baldwin’s prediction, it wasn’t the fire next time — just more floods.) The New Faith is an urgent narrative that centers traditional music, reminding us of the things that endure even amidst catastrophic loss.
- Adeem the Artist (White Trash Revelry) — Hey, have you heard of this non-binary person named Adeem the Artist? I don’t know — I just don’t think they had enough press: touring with American Aquarium, a profile in the New York Times, earning top spots on everyone’s year-end lists (along with Jake.) Adeem funded White Trash Revelry purely through Venmo and PayPal donations — the kind of madcap scheme that requires only common sense, faith in everyday people, and asking “why not?” that encapsulates Adeem’s ethos. The album itself is superlative but if you’re reading this you probably already knew that. Adeem’s songs are wholly human, and speak to our deep-seated need for solidarity in all of its forms.
You can find a Spotify playlist here and a Tidal playlist here.