Top Albums of 2017

The best of a great year of music

For all of the other nonsense going on in 2017, the last calendar year at least provided some great music. From rock to rap, pop to R&B, and everything in between, there was something for everyone.

Before I delve into my top 20 albums, here are a few other releases that didn’t quite make the cut. You certainly wouldn’t hear any arguments from me if any of these made another top 20 list: “August by Cake”, Guided by Voices; “The Tourist”, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah; “Dedicated to Bobby Jameson”, Ariel Pink; “Sleep Well Beast”, The National; “Life Without Sound”, Cloud Nothings; “Capacity”, Big Thief.

My intent in making this list was to be as pretentious as possible, while making sure to leave off the artist or artists you personally like the most.

With that out of the way, here are my top 20 albums of 2017.

20. “Okovi”, Zola Jesus

More than a few records this year have seen an artist focusing on personal trauma and confronting death and mortality, but few did so with such eerie, haunting power as Zola Jesus, also known as Nika Roza Danilova.

The Wisconsin native’s fifth album was inspired by a lot of real-life dark material coming from the lives of both Danilova and of those close to her. Death is never far from the mind on a lot of these songs, which are heavy in an almost religious sense.

Many of these tracks sound like they’re being sung from the middle of a huge, dark church with echoes cascading like water. That liquid imagery is at the forefront of tracks like “Soak”, where Danilova sings about the desire to be cleansed in a river (possibly to avoid another way of dying). On “Siphon”, she takes the other side, urging the listener not to give in, that she would “rather clean the blood of a living man.”

“Veka” is one big storm, providing some of the heaviest beats on the record that once again sound like a direct challenge from Danilova.

Even if you can’t make out the specifics of what she’s singing, you’re left with the undeniable sense that it has life or death consequences.

It’s a heavy listen, but Okovi also has moments of forgiveness, redemption, and triumph. Zola Jesus went down to the river to wash away what ailed her, and that quest to externalize the dark feelings inside resulted in this eerie, beautiful album.

19. “Out in the Storm”, Waxahatchee

Katie Crutchfield of Waxahatchee teams up with her twin sister Allison as well as a strong backing band for Out in the Storm, an album that strikes a near-perfect balance of wounded intimacy and rousing exorcism.

Crutchfield gets specific to detail a bad relationship, whether it’s being forced to drive to “Brooklyn, New York, U.S.A.” or waking up in a bar as the sun comes up. She backs up these nuanced observations with hard-charging rock songs on scathing tracks like “Never Been Wrong”, “Silver”, and “No Question.”

There are all kinds of things that can hold you back in a relationship, and Crutchfield pretty much covers the spectrum; “Never Been Wrong” sees her being taken advantage of; on “Hear You” she tiredly proclaims, “I don’t want to hear you out”; on “No Question”, the drama literally seems endless (“It never ends” she says over and over).

But Out in the Storm also has room for little victories; the angelic ‘oohs’ of “Silver” contrast wonderfully with its urgent, take-no-bullshit guitars, while “Recite Remorse” provides some hope, as Crutchfield says, “For a moment I was not lost.”

Taking your wins where you can get them is something we can all relate to; it always helps to have someone like Crutchfield providing the soundtrack.

18. “Rainbow”, Kesha

It seems like decades since Kesha (formerly known as Ke$ha) burst onto the scene with the smash hit “Tick Tock”. Her well-documented legal battles with producer Dr. Luke — accused of emotional and sexual abuse — have made it hard to remember when Kesha was known simply for her music.

With Rainbow, her first studio release in five years, Kesha returns as a changed woman who has come out of the other side of her ordeals stronger than ever.

The early tracks on Rainbow delve into those well-known issues head on: “Bastards”, “Let ’Em Talk”, “Hymn”, and “Praying” are full-throated triumphs that showcase Kesha’s rebirth into an even more unstoppable force — one who will put up with even less shit than before.

Kesha’s barbs are blunt in their vulgarity (“I’m just gonna dance like a motherfucker”, “I’ve decided all the haters everywhere can suck my dick”). But considering the source, it feels almost cathartic, like a much-needed venting session.

Musically, Kesha sounds more diverse than ever: Rainbow dabbles in electro pop, garage-punk, and country. Yet it all comes together in a thematically cohesive package, with the early soul-baring tracks giving way to more traditional late-night ragers and floor-stompers like “Boogie Feet” and “Boots”.

Rainbow is triumphant in its expressions of freedom, but Kesha is wise enough to know that no one overcomes these kinds of hurdles without help. Her duet with Dolly Parton on “Old Flames (Can’t Hold a Candle to You)” serves as a passing of the torch from one feminist trailblazer to another.

Rainbow is about putting the past behind you, embracing your new self, and knowing that no obstacle is too big to overcome. Cliched? Sure. But considering what she had to go through to get here, every hard-earned moment on Rainbow serves as an undeniable triumph for Kesha.

17. “Rocket”, (Sandy) Alex G

Sometimes when you finish an album that leaves you with more questions than answers, it can feel frustrating and unfulfilling. Other times, it leaves you with the impression that you’ve just begun to scratch the surface of its mysteries.

I had the latter feeling upon listening to Rocket, the newest release by Philadelphia singer-songwriter Alex Giannascoli (going by (Sandy) Alex G on this record).

It’s perhaps the weirdest, most musically varied album of 2017, with tracks that dip their toes in so many different genres it almost becomes disorienting. But it’s the good kind of variety, showcasing the adventurous nature of someone like 1990s Beck.

While most of Giannascoli’s songs are rooted in Americana, they are rarely that straightforward. The opening “Poison Root” is a psych folk ramble that sounds like someone fed all the farm animals LSD. “County” and “Guilty” dabble in Steely Dan jazz rock, while “Brick” is straight-up industrial hip-hop.

If it sounds like the record is a jumbled mash-up, that’s because it often is. But there’s something refreshing about a set of songs that difficult to grasp; too often these days artists feel the need to over-explain everything about their process and inspiration.

Rocket is inscrutable and obscure, but it can also be simple.

Giannascoli leans into the Elliott Smith comparisons he’s received on straightforward tunes like “Proud”, “Bobby”, and “Big Fish”.

And “Powerful Man” evokes memories of the down home, everyday realism of The Band. Backed by a simple, repeating guitar line and a heartfelt fiddle, Giannascoli reflects on family and obligations, displaying a style of storytelling that can stand with his musical experimentation.

Rocket can be confounding at times, but it’s never less than interesting, and it feels like a record that holds untold secrets yet to be revealed.

16. “Infinite Worlds”, Vagabon

“I feel so small.” The first line of Infinite Worlds — the full-length debut of Cameroon via NYC singer-songwriter Laetitia Tamko — tells you pretty much everything you need to know.

Infinite Worlds is a study in space, specifically the space we attempt to carve out for ourselves among others to see where and how we fit in.

Like the above line in the opening track “The Embers”, the rest of the album sees Tamko trying to grapple with feeling small in a big scary world. On the excellent “Fear & Force”, she finds herself stuck in an unfamiliar place. The song starts as mellow indie rock but quickly evolves into charging electric guitars and loud percussion.

Tamko masters that soft vs. loud dynamic both in her music and in her striking tenor. Some tracks are clear and firm, like the rapid-fire opening of “Minneapolis” as well as “100 Years”. Other times, Tamko muddies things up, especially on the druggy synths of “Mal a L’aise”.

As a songwriter, Tamko excels at making small, personal battles feel extra large, touching on themes of confusion and guilt (“I know it’s my fault/I gave up on everything,” she laments on “Cold Apartment”).

But she is able to make these songs sound triumphant rather than morose; “Cold Apartment” becomes more assured as it progresses, signaling Tamko’s belief that victory for yourself is possible in the end.

Infinite Worlds goes by in a flash; it has the feeling of Tamko stepping up on a stage, doing her piece, and leaving as quickly as she came. But what she leaves behind is powerful, essential indie rock that carves out a space for her among the very best the genre has to offer.

15. “Hug of Thunder”, Broken Social Scene

It’s hard not to be pessimistic given the current state of…well everything. Cynicism has always been a part of the music industry, and that certainly isn’t going away anytime soon.

So it’s refreshing to find a group to put out a record as big-hearted and uncynical as Hug of Thunder, the first album in seven years by Canadian rock collective Broken Social Scene.

Formed in the late 90s by Kevin Drew (among others), Broken Social Scene brings a sharp, socially-conscious edge to its atmosphere of communal joy.

Hug of Thunder sees the group focusing on the big picture rather than just the parts. Appropriate, really, when you consider that there are 18 different musicians credited on the album.

Tracks like “Halfway Home”, “Protest Song”, and “Victim Lover” are reminiscent of the kind of all-together-now euphoria found in some of the best work of groups like Arcade Fire and The Flaming Lips.

The title track’s eerie, powerful chorus looks for the chance to make a difference in an indifferent world intent on beating you down: “All along we’re gonna feel some numbness/Oxymoron of our lives/Getting fed up by the hunger/Supersize we found inside.”

More than a decade ago on the fantastic You Forgot It In People, Broken Social Scene already seemed fed up with people pretending to care, stating, “They all need to be the cause/They all want to fuck the cause.”

In a world where the stakes seem a lot higher, Drew and company are now practically daring you not to care by cranking out the type of crowd-pleasing music that can make the days feel just a little bit better.

14. “Pure Comedy”, Father John Misty

Ever since he left Fleet Foxes and assumed the stage name Father John Misty, Josh Tillman has made a name for himself as one of the biggest pranksters in modern music.

From his on-stage antics to his covers of Taylor Swift, Tillman has embraced his reputation as a 21st century provocateur. You need look no further than the second track of Pure Comedy for confirmation, where he brags about “bedding Taylor Swift in the Oculus Rift” on “Total Entertainment Forever.”

But while he still retains his Randy Newman sense of irony, Tillman’s musical ambition on his third solo album is more akin to the sweeping 1970s work of Elton John melded with the sweet melancholia of Leonard Cohen.

Clocking in at well over an hour, Pure Comedy is a vast social critique of modern life set to classic ballads of old. On the album-opening title track, Tillman laments about half-formed people struggling to survive and relying on others to do so.

Even more so than his wit, there’s a sense of sadness that pervades through Tillman’s songs, particularly on the 13-minute epic “Leaving LA”, a final farewell to an old way of life and the reluctant embrace of an uneasy future.

Often Tillman sounds like an observer from space, looking down at the little people and all their problems. But he’s quick to point out his own faults as well (“Conceal my lack of skill here in the spotlight”).

Tillman is able to channel his audience’s feelings of being overwhelmed by everything about 2017. But even then, there’s still room for optimism; as he puts it, “I hate to say it, but each other’s all we’ve got.”

13. “Melodrama”, Lorde

It’s a strange thing, how the emotional setbacks we suffer in the course of a night (or party) can seem so life-shattering in the moment. It’s even stranger when they seem to happen all the time.

Enter Melodrama, the most aptly-titled album of 2017, and the first release by 20 year-old New Zealand pop prodigy Lorde since her momentous 2013 debut Pure Heroine.

As you can tell by the title, this is an extremely self-aware set of songs, the kind of on-the-nose packaging that seemingly could only come from someone so precocious.

Melodrama is a trip through every high and low of every late-night party you’ve ever experienced. It all kicks off with the raucous throwback pop of “Green Light”, an encapsulation of youthful exuberance mixed with the kind of heartbreak only first-time lovers experience.

There’s a feeling of reckless abandon throughout the album: “Ain’t a pill that can touch our rush,” Lorde boasts on the slick, mysterious “Sober”.

But Lorde, so clearly wise beyond her years, also takes stock of the damage left behind when the night’s over. Taking a cue from noted inspiration Robyn, Lorde explores the nights where you end up dancing on your own.

Aided by super producer Jack Antonoff, Lorde creates music that swells and flashes like lights on a dancefloor. The grandiose “The Louvre” recalls the melodramatic pop of not just Robyn, but also The Killers and New Order.

Lorde could have only made a record like Melodrama at this stage in her life, and legions of young women now and in years to come will be the better for it.

12. “Ctrl”, SZA

Few things are more rewarding as a music lover than seeing a new star arrived fully formed and utterly true to themselves.

Ctrl, the full-length debut of SZA, nee Solana Rowe, is as open a statement on love, sex, and self-image as you’ll find anywhere.

Setting percussion aside for the most part, SZA instead delves into prime neo-soul and even some indie guitar flourishes to accentuate the sparse nature of her confessions.

And it’s in that songwriting where SZA truly shines as she delves into the highs, lows, and in-betweens of romance in the 21st century.

She’s more than fine with being a side chick on “The Weekend”; but at the same time, she wonders why she’s not the girl to be taken home to meet the parents on “Normal Girl”.

SZA’s hesitations about commitment and wondering whether she’s good enough feel startlingly intimate and personal (“She’s perfect and I hate it” she muses about her man’s new girl on “Drew Barrymore”).

Her voice is a wonder to behold throughout the record, veering from angelic to scathing in the space of a few lines. Even when she’s clearly talking about her own life, you’re convinced of how the topics she’s focusing on are applicable to just about anyone at the same stage of life.

Ctrl sees a rising young star baring her soul for all to see. It’s a profound statement about embracing sexual freedom while at the same time yearning for something true and special, all wrapped up in a surprisingly warm, heartfelt package.

11. “Luciferian Towers”, Godspeed You! Black Emperor

The members of Godspeed You! Black Emperor are usually content to let their music do the talking for them. The Canadian post-rock outfit has earned a reputation for producing some of the most exhilarating sonic landscapes you’ll find, usually devoid of any spoken word.

But in the lead up to the release of their sixth album, the electrifying Luciferian Towers, the group had plenty to say, listing off a set of demands that included, “the expert fuckers who broke this world never get to speak again.”

Listening to the music, you wouldn’t be able to notice such politically-fuelled rage. But that disconnect doesn’t disrupt the experience of Luciferian Towers one bit.

There are the same long suites the band is known for (though compressed into a record that clocks in at just under 44 minutes, noticeably shorter than some past outings). The standout is the three-part “Bosses Hang”, which builds from repetitive, entrancing guitar interplay into a momentous, charging sound that is the most triumphant GYBE has sounded in a long time.

“Anthem for No State”, another three-parter that closes the album, plays like the climax to a Spaghetti Western film, as the band cranks up the feedback and the drums until you’ll find yourself grooving along uncontrollably.

For as much as GYBE is raging against the machine with their written words, it will always be their music that forms the crucible of their unrelenting power.

10. “Dirty Projectors”, Dirty Projectors

Breakup albums usually aren’t known for their subtlety. Dirty Projectors frontman Dave Longstreth clearly took that to heart on the group’s self-titled seventh album.

Coming off of his split with former bandmate and girlfriend Amber Coffman, Longstreth hits the nail so squarely on the head on these songs that it’s practically a narration. It would be hokey if it weren’t so artfully done.

Longstreth plunges into his pain on the album’s very first line: “I don’t know why you abandoned me.” That no-frills approach to lost love is wrapped up in woozy electro/R&B on most of the record’s tracks while also tossing in the occasional auto-tune.

On Dirty Projectors, Longstreth tries to come to grips with what love entails and what’s required to make it last. On “Work Together” and “Winner Take Nothing”, he views romance as a competition, while “Death Spiral” vividly depicts how wrong it can go.

But Longstreth is also able to find comfort in knowing that he at least got to experience a little bit of love. The album’s centerpiece, the magnificent “Up in Hudson”, is a blow-by-blow account of the highs and lows of a relationship set against the backdrop of a thoroughly modern NYC that’s reminiscent of tales spun by Paul Simon and Vampire Weekend.

The fact that love may burn out is only proof that it existed in the first place, which in the end is enough for Longstreth.

He’s able to come to peace with himself and his former partner on the finale “I See You”, acknowledging “Heaven knows we’ve been to hell.” That closure brings a sort of clarity, an ability to see someone for who they are, not just a projection.

An artful observation on modern romance, Dirty Projectors is a thoughtful, heartbreaking, and ultimately redemptive work.

9. “Run the Jewels 3”, Run the Jewels

“Resistance” is a word that’s been thrown around a lot in the last year or so. For whatever that might mean to you, Run the Jewels 3 is undeniably an album of resistance, a herald sounded by a pair of flamethrower-wielding outlaws named El-P and Killer Mike.

The third outing from the hip-hop supergroup is undoubtedly their most serious release to date; coming out right when Donald Trump was set to take the oath of office, RTJ3 lays out the blueprint of how to confront a world gone crazy.

El-P and Killer Mike are going for blood on this album. Institutions are their targets and they attack them without mercy.

“Thieves! (Screamed the Ghost)” is a haunting, apocalyptic vision of riots and chaos, a Twilight Zone world that has become all too real. The track is punctuated by a sample of none other than Martin Luther King Jr.” “A riot is the language of the unheard.”

El-P and Killer Mike certainly don’t lack for volume: RTJ3 showcases some of their best interplay to date, with Killer Mike’s work on “Call Ticketron” and “2100” standing out in particular.

As overtly politically of an album that you’ll find, RTJ3’s message of standing up for what’s right never comes across as overbearing. Instead, it fills you with a sense of righteous anger, and enough hope to make you believe that we’ll get through this too.

8. “The Nashville Sound”, Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

They say those who don’t learn from the mistakes of the past are doomed to repeat them. It’s a lesson Jason Isbell clearly took to heart on his marvelous sixth album The Nashville Sound.

Many of these tracks, drenched in Americana, Southern rock and country, are clearly intended for Isbell’s young daughter, as he tries to reconcile where he came from and confront his — and our collective — past.

The Nashville Sound is about opportunities, or more often the lack thereof. Isbell laments about being unable to escape your circumstances in “Cumberland Gap”, singing about the places that are marked by “churches, bars, and grocery stores.” On “Chaos and Clothes,” he notes that “you’ve got the past on your breath.”

The heartbreaking “If We Were Vampires” sees Isbell honestly contemplating mortality, loss, and the prospect of facing a part of your life alone.

But if it seems like there’s no hope to be found, think again. The Nashville Sound is, for all its sorrow, a triumphantly hopeful record.

Imagining how he’ll explain to his child how the world came to be this way on “White Man’s World,” he’s able to find confidence and assurance in “the fire in my little girl’s eyes.”

And on “Hope the High Road,” the album’s most optimistic track, Isbell takes a look around him, considers the good and the bad, and concludes, “There can’t be more of them than us.”

You can’t help but believe him.

7. “Not Even Happiness”, Julie Byrne

There’s a difference between loneliness and being alone; Not Even Happiness, the serene second album by Julie Byrne, explores this dynamic against a backdrop of achingly beautiful contemporary folk songs.

Not Even Happiness is a record of landscapes, both literal — Byrne lists off locales like Kansas, Montana, and Wyoming — and spiritual. Her fingerpicking, combined with a backing orchestra of strings and the occasional woodwind, create these areas in the listener’s mind. Byrne’s voice guides you through them.

And what a voice; Byrne achieves a near-perfect balance of sadness and inner peace, examining everyday struggles and nature itself. There is really no other word to describe her delivery other than serene.

While it may seem easy to get lost in these folky reveries, each track is grounded in its own distinct setting: the endless sky of “Natural Blue”, the rolling fields of “Morning Dove”, the seaside peace found in “Sea as It Glides.”

The album’s title isn’t about falling short of happiness; it’s about the search for something more, something that lasts, whether it’s inner peace, acceptance, or clarity.

It’s a listening experience that plays like a dream, especially on the standout “Sleepwalker”, a graceful meditation on lost love.

And like a dream, Not Even Happiness evaporates almost as quickly as it arrives, leaving you solemn but also grateful that such a thing could exist in the first place.

6. “Half-Light”, Rostam

The do-everything sound savant behind Vampire Weekend, Rostam Batmaglij has been busy since he left the group last year, working with everyone from Hamilton Leithauser of The Walkmen to Carly Rae Jepsen.

Fans of VW will no doubt recognize many of the musical arrangements on Half-Light, his solo debut. But the album is so expressive and full of color that it has more than enough in it to stand on its own.

Much like the best Vampire Weekend songs, the highlights of Half-Light don’t always fully connect upon first listen. But after a few spins they positively crackle and glow.

The music itself is all over the place in the best way possible. “Bike Dream”, “Don’t Let It Get to You”, and “When” contrast Rostam’s quiet, almost whispered delivery with big percussive beats; “Sumer”, “Thatch Snow”, “Wood”, and “Gwan” feature lush, orchestral and baroque arrangements that sound like Rostam is painting rather than composing. There are even some Kanye/Frank Ocean auto-tune warblers (“Hold You”, “Warning Intruders”).

Where Half-Light really distinguishes itself as its own thing is in moments of silence that leave Rostam room to croon, whisper, and even chuckle.

On the album’s best moments — particularly the sweeping sitars of “Wood” — you can practically see the sun rising off in the distance.

Horizons are a recurring theme on Half-Light; here’s hoping there’s more to come on the other side of Rostam’s solo career.

5. “A Deeper Understanding”, The War on Drugs

Put simply, Adam Granduciel makes music made for listening while driving.

The resident auteur of The War on Drugs is interested in highways both literal and metaphorical; he doesn’t explore the road so much as the thoughts you have while you’re traveling on it.

In that regard, A Deeper Understanding is the logical next step after 2014’s masterwork Lost in the Dream, in my opinion the most perfect driving at night album ever made.

Having signed a new deal with Atlantic Records, Granduciel has a bit more to work with this time around. Always one to go for big, dense sounds, A Deeper Understanding absolutely overwhelms you sonically. Every track has multiple synth and keyboard arrangements, not to mention fuzzed-out guitars and hard-charging percussion.

Lyrically, Granduciel treads familiar territory, examining the contrast between beauty and pain, and the fine line between memories and dreams. But in reality, the details aren’t all that important. A Deeper Understanding is about the feeling, and of the unstoppable momentum of its sound.

While Granduciel wants to move, he isn’t in any hurry. These songs are long, providing plenty of space to get lost in (“Thinking of a Place” stretches out past 11 minutes). But Granduciel has an uncanny knack for knowing the precise moment to switch it up, to either slow things down or kick them up a notch.

“Strangest Thing” starts out simple enough, then makes your heart skip a beat with an electric guitar line that comes out of the blue. And then before you know it, it happens again, reaching an even higher plane.

Granduciel is a traditionalist at heart, and the influences for The War on Drugs are as obvious as it gets: Springsteen, Dylan, Petty, Dire Straits. Combine that with Granduciel’s Dylan meets Mark Knopfler croon, and you’d be forgiven if you thought this music sounds like a cheap imitation.

But Granduciel’s genius lies in his ability to take those classic rock elements and update them into something wholly original and meaningful. He might be looking for something that can’t be found, but that’s not going to stop him from moving forward anyway.

4. “DAMN.”, Kendrick Lamar

Kendrick Lamar’s 2015 masterpiece To Pimp a Butterfly arrived at a moment when issues of racism and bigotry were being spotlighted in a way that we hadn’t seen before in popular culture. On that record, Kendrick spoke words of assurance, that we were going to be alright.

It’s safe to say things have not gotten much better in the two years since. But rather than coming up with another era-defining political statement, Kendrick instead turned inward on DAMN.

Here we find a much more introspective Kendrick Lamar. DAMN. is littered with questions of religion and sin; just look at the song titles (“PRIDE”, “LUST”, “FEAR”, “GOD”, etc.). It’s a hazy, disorienting listen at times, with Kendrick’s voice often struck dumb by what’s happening around him.

But while DAMN. may not be as musically ambitious as To Pimp a Butterfly or even good kid, m.A.A.d city, Kendrick once again leaves no doubt as to his status as the greatest rapper alive.

On “DNA”, his flow reflects the dangerous confluence of emotions and feelings roiling inside of him. His voice on the thunderous “HUMBLE” barely changes its inflection over the course of the song, yet carries the kind of swaggering power that other artists can only dream of.

And as ever, Kendrick remains unchallenged as a bard of societal unrest. He bemoans the fate and futility that too often comes with simply being black on “XXX”: “Ain’t no black power when your baby killed by a coward.”

DAMN. ends with one of Kendrick’s best-spun yards yet on “DUCKWORTH”, an origin story that evolves into a tragedy.

No artist alive is as consistently engaged and engaging as Kendrick Lamar. He reinvents himself once again with DAMN., going toe-to-toe with new issues while still grappling with old ones without losing his edge as a showstopping musician.

3. “Turn Out the Lights”, Julien Baker

Of all the countless negative feelings a person can experience, being trapped in your own skin has to rank up there among the worst.

Turn Out the Lights, the sophomore effort by Memphis singer-songwriter Julien Baker, is an agonized cry from the inside, a record that is at once intimate and grandiose, despairing yet triumphant.

The power in Baker’s songs lie in her ability to make everything feel like it could be happening to you. Chances are, they already have.

Armed with little more than her voice, a guitar, and a piano, Baker displays an uncanny restraint even when the songs threaten to overflow with raw emotion. She leaves the catharsis up to the listener.

And really, that’s what forms the core of Turn Out the Lights: being able to acknowledge your shortcomings while finding the strength to carry on.

All that emotion would go to waste if the songs themselves weren’t excellent. On that score, eat your heart out Adele, because you wish you could conjure up such achingly beautiful sadness.

From the first line in “Appointments” (“I’m staying in tonight”) to the futility of trying in “Sour Breath” (“The harder I swim, the faster I sink”), Baker shows how being self-reliant to a fault can turn your soul rotten. When she wonders, “If it makes me feel better, how bad can it be” on “Happy to Be Here,” it’s hard not to look at yourself and feel the same way.

But rather than simply wallowing in empty darkness, Baker relentlessly keeps moving forward, hoping against hope that things can get better.

Turn Out the Lights speaks to anyone who’s ever been alone with themselves night after night wondering if there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and gives you the sense that blind hope is sometimes the best kind.

2. “American Dream”, LCD Soundsystem

James Murphy has always embraced the role of being the old guy mixed in with the cool kids. It’s what made him so appealing to music snobs in the first place, the people who, like him, lived on old David Bowie and Brian Eno records. But it was Murphy’s uncanny ability to blend that classic musical sensibility with 21st century anxiety that made LCD Soundsystem such a force.

After a brief “retirement”, LCD Soundsystem came roaring back this year with American Dream. Those worried that Murphy might have lost his edge need not fear: American Dream can’t be mistaken as anything other than an LCD Soundsystem record — and therefore a divine piece of artful dance rock.

The opening bass hits of the dreamlike “Oh Baby” instantly recall memories of the epochal Sound of Silver; “Other Voices” and “Tonite” feature Murphy’s classic deadpan, sarcastic, self-deprecating delivery over infectious dancefloor grooves.

“Call the Police” is an exhilarating burn-this-mother-down rager that is as raucous as anything from This Is Happening.

LCD Soundsystem has always had the ability to elicit from song to song feelings of joy, sadness, nostalgia, and ecstasy. But on American Dream, the darkness is more prevalent than ever before. In the seven years since the group’s last release, Murphy has seen personal idols like Bowie, Prince and Lou Reed pass away.

As such, his usual anxiety is tinged with a striking morbidity on the album’s two longest tracks, “How Do You Sleep?” and the finale “Black Screen.”

The epic “How Do You Sleep?” sees Murphy shouting from a techno wilderness, and when the full force of the beat finally arrives, it’s at once spine-tingling and unnerving, a head-banger with a dark side.

“Black Screen”, meanwhile, rides a robotic hum for more than 12 minutes until ultimately drifting away into nothingness (the title itself can’t help but elicit thoughts of the similarly techno-horror spectacle of the TV show Black Mirror). It also doubles as a final tribute to Bowie, the man without whom this group — and Murphy himself — wouldn’t exist.

It’s perhaps the darkest LCD Soundsystem track to date, and ends things on an ominous, foreboding note rather than the more solemn, nostalgic finales of past albums.

A techno dreamscape of joy and exuberance but also emotional hangovers and personal anxiety, American Dream earns its place in the conversation as one of the best LCD Soundsystem efforts to date.

1. “Near to the Wild Heart of Life”, Japandroids

There’s something admirable about a group’s completely genuine desire to be a huge rock and roll band. Japandroids — the Canadian duo of singer/guitarist Brian King and drummer David Prowse — have consistently shown the kind of ambition that you just don’t find in many rock groups these days.

In simple terms, no one gives as much of a shit as Japandroids.

Take their last album, Celebration Rock. It’s one of the great rock records of the 21st century, an explosion of fire, guitars, and booze that drained the band so thoroughly that it took them five years to recover.

And so now we have Near to the Wild Heart of Life, a record that can’t quite match its predecessor’s sheer manic energy (that would be impossible), but instead sees King and Prowse expanding their sound in unexpected and exhilarating ways.

The album’s centerpiece “Arc of Bar” is proof positive of Japandroids’ experimentation. A more than seven-minute odyssey (flushed with synthesizers, a Japandroids first) through a liquor-drenched swamp of “hustlers, whores in rooms galore”; it’s a staggeringly ambitious song in the vein of “Jungleland”, the kind of track that serves as a reminder of what a rock epic sounds like.

Near to the Wild Heart of Life is a songbook littered with these tales from the road: the decision to chase your dreams and leave home on the title track; the continent-trotting “North East South West”; the strung-out exuberance of “Midnight to Morning.”

There’s a thematic attention to detail that helps unify the entire album.

It all builds to a climax on the incendiary “No Known Drink or Drug,” where the group tries to fit as many Springsteen-isms as they can into the track’s three-minute runtime. And just as you’re able to catch your breath, the guitar explodes, with King shouting into the night that, “No known drink/no known drug/could ever hold a candle to your love.”

That Japandroids’ songwriting doesn’t come off as cheesy or cliched is a testament to the sheer enthusiasm and joie de vivre in every power chord and “oh oh” chorus.

Near to the Wild Heart of Life came out just as 2017 was getting underway, so for that reason alone it’s probably the album I listened to the most this past year.

But ultimately, the reason why it was my favorite album of 2017 is because, more than any other record released this year, it helped serve as an escape from all the crap 2017 brought with it. Whenever a distraction was needed, I just had to hit play on “Near to the Wild Heart of Life”, ride the crescendo of the opening drum roll, and wait for those guitars to find me again.

Near to the Wild Heart of Life is everything rock and roll is supposed to be.