Favorite Albums of 2024

My favorite albums of 2024

So much good music this year. I am sure you’re not surprised I picked Dark Matter by Pearl Jam as my top album. But, I was. So much excellent music that I really connected with this year (as you can see below). Check it out

1. Dark Matter - Pearl Jam

Maybe you aren’t surprised this is my number one album, but I am. I thought I would enjoy it, but I never expected Dark Matter to connect with me so deeply, so personally. The lyrics and vocals, the sound, the vibe, the themes of mortality, relationships, changes, the passage of time, and all that it encompasses—this album is first and foremost about being human. It’s messy, flawed, hopeful, and aching with the weight of trying to make sense of it all. It’s about sitting in the wreckage of your life, sifting through the pieces, and figuring out how to keep moving forward, even when it feels impossible.

From the very beginning, the album felt like it was speaking directly to me. Scared of Fear hits with raw honesty, capturing the destructive cycles we can fall into with the people we love most. “You’re hurting yourself, it’s plain to see / I think you’re hurting yourself just to hurt me,” Vedder sings, and it lands like a truth you don’t want to admit but know is real. Then there’s React, Respond, a track I wish I’d had as a younger version of myself. Its message—“When what you get is what you don’t want / Don’t react, respond”—is deceptively simple but feels like a roadmap for navigating life’s hardest moments. The song feels like a mantra for making it through chaos with intention, and I’m trying to carry that lesson forward now.

But Something Special is the song that breaks me every time. It makes me think of my son—of all the hope, pride, and unconditional love I feel for him. “Oh, and if the night grows long, you’re not feeling loved / I will be there, and not ’cause it’s my job / I work for free because you’re both so special.” Those words get me every time. They perfectly capture what it means to love someone so deeply that showing up for them feels like the most natural thing in the world. It reminds me of the privilege and responsibility of being his parent, and I don’t think there’s a song that’s ever spoken to that part of me so profoundly.

As the album unfolds, it balances chaos with reflection. Running channels pure energy, its relentless pace and driving drums mirroring the times when life feels like a race you can’t escape. And then there’s Got to Give, a track that resonates even though I can’t fully explain why. Maybe it’s the raw acknowledgment of pain and the plea for change: “The pain of this every day has got to give.” It feels like a cry from the depths, a need to push through even when the way forward isn’t clear.

The journey ends with Setting Sun, a song that feels like a quiet conversation with myself. It’s haunting, beautiful, and deeply reflective: “The cast was made to reset broken bones, though there’s no such thing to fix a love gone wrong.” Those words cut deep, but they’re balanced by the hope in, “They say in the end everything will be okay. If it’s not okay, well then it ain’t the end.” It’s a reminder that even when life feels unbearable, there’s always a chance for light to break through.

Dark Matter is more than an album to me—it’s a companion, a guide, a mirror. It captures the highs and lows of life, the ache of change, and the resilience it takes to move forward. If you haven’t listened yet, do yourself a favor. You might cry, you might laugh, you might find pieces of yourself in it. But I promise, it’ll make you feel something.

2 (T). Mahashmashana - Father John Misty

There is so much to digest in FJM's latest album, Mahashmashana. It’s probably his deepest, most thoughtful, existential, insightful, poetic, and lyrical album yet. And that’s from a man who’s already known for being all those things. It asks the big questions. It gives hints at answers. But those answers? They only lead to more questions. And those questions lead to more answers and questions and eventually to conclusions. Conclusions about life, death, relationships, being alone, and whether it all means anything anyway. This is probably FJM’s finest work yet.

The lyrics to "Mahashmashana" are a perfect place to start, with lines like, “A perfect lie can live forever / The truth don’t fare as well,” and “Is a scheme to enrich assholes what the godhead had in mind?” The song doesn’t just dig at the surface of modern life—it tunnels straight through, hitting the raw nerve of how truth and meaning are twisted into something transactional. Then there’s "Screamland," a song that somehow makes spiritual exhaustion sound like a last-ditch prayer: “Stay young, get numb, keep dreaming.” It’s a mantra for anyone barely holding it together, but there’s hope buried in the surrender too, like when he sings, “Maybe we are living in a state of grace returned.” And then there’s "I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All," which reads like a drunk sermon at the world’s loneliest wedding. Lines like, “After a millennia of good times, God said hey now, let’s have a dream,” feel like a cosmic joke, but you can’t quite laugh—it’s too true.

But honestly? I’m sure I’ve only scratched the surface. I’ve probably missed about 75% of what there is to take away because I just haven’t had enough time to fully digest it. This is an album that demands time, thought, and repeat listens. I know that a year from now, I’ll hear these songs and take away completely different things—things I couldn’t have picked up on today. That’s part of what makes Mahashmashana so special. Father John Misty isn’t just writing music; he’s building something layered and alive. And while I don’t have all the answers it raises, I think that’s the point. It’s not about tying everything up in a bow; it’s about sitting with the chaos and finding some beauty in the questions themselves.

2 (T). TANGK - IDLES

This was probably my most anticipated album of 2024. I fell in love with IDLES ever since seeing their 2022 Coachella set. I was blown away by their stage show. I had to see them live. I finally got to see them live this year, and it didn’t disappoint. So, I looked forward to this album so much. And it didn’t disappoint. There is so much about what is good and right in the world in this album. It’s so good. And it represents so much growth and change in their sound. This is the most joyful, affirming record I’ve heard all year, and every time I play it, I feel like I’m part of something bigger—something hopeful and unstoppable.

Compared to their previous work, TANGK feels like a massive leap forward. Albums like Joy as an Act of Resistance and Ultra Mono were raw, brash, and confrontational—they were about tearing down the walls. TANGK takes that same energy and turns it toward building something beautiful in the ruins. There’s still that relentless IDLES grit, but now there’s this shimmering positivity woven through it. It’s punk rock that makes you want to embrace the world rather than fight it. Tracks like "POP POP POP" and "Dancer" feel like celebrations of life itself, while "Gift Horse" finds beauty in vulnerability. The whole album pulses with this sense of collective catharsis, like a reminder that no matter how dark it gets, we’re never alone.

Joe Talbot’s vocals are the beating heart of this record, and they’ve never hit me harder. His delivery is still raw and unpolished, but there’s a warmth in his voice now that wasn’t there before—like he’s not just shouting at the world but singing with it. It’s like he’s saying, “Yeah, it’s all messy and chaotic, but isn’t it worth it?” That’s what TANGK feels like to me: an invitation to find joy in the chaos. It’s music that lifts me up and reminds me to keep going. Every time I listen, I feel more connected—to myself, to others, to the endless, messy beauty of being alive.

2 (T). Manning Fireworks - MJ Lenderman

I am sure that I will say that I just didn’t rank this album high enough. That this is clearly a work of genius, with layers upon layers to dig into. Stuff you won’t realize until after you’ve been listening to the album for a couple of years. This album has ranked highly on many of the top critics' lists, and rightly so. It’s outstanding. Its wit is unmistakable, it’s deeply vulnerable, and it’s sort of funny—in an indie rock funny sort of way. It probably sounds the way you think an album should in 2024 that is an indie darling. It’s got guitar. Lots of great guitar. It’s got some fuzz and, while maybe not a lot of feedback, certainly some pedal action going on. It’s got those existential poetic lyrics that mean something very specific and different to every single person who listens to the album but also can be related to by nearly everyone who listens to the songs. It doesn’t matter what it’s technically about to the writer. It’s about your connection and how it makes you feel. And these lyrics are clearly witty, clearly vulnerable, and clearly universal in many ways.

Take “Wristwatch,” for example, one of my absolute favorite songs of the year. It has this absurd, almost tongue-in-cheek quality with lines like, “I got a beach home up in Buffalo, and a wristwatch that’s a compass and a cell phone.” The imagery is so ridiculous it’s perfect. Yet beneath the humor lies a deeper longing for connection and stability. When he sings, “And a wristwatch that tells me I’m on my own,” it’s a gut punch wrapped in a smirk. This is Lenderman’s gift: weaving cynicism, wit, and profound vulnerability into something that feels intensely personal and also kind of hilarious. It’s an emotional cocktail that hits harder with every listen.

Then there’s “She’s Leaving You,” which is both tragic and, in a way, darkly comedic. “Go rent a Ferrari and sing the blues, believe that Clapton was the second coming,” he deadpans, skewering the clichés of heartbreak even as he leans into them. It’s the kind of line that makes you laugh and then sit with the bitter truth underneath. The whole album is full of moments like this—observations on failure, loneliness, and existential dread, all delivered with a knowing wink. By the time you reach the raw, late-night confessional tone of “On My Knees,” where he admits, “Here comes the sun and the birds all scream, ‘It’s time to go to sleep,’” you realize just how deeply this album captures the human condition: absurd, tragic, hopeful, and just a little funny. Lenderman gets it, and that’s what makes this album so special.

5. Five Dice, All Threes - Bright Eyes

Bright Eyes have always excelled at diving headfirst into the messiest corners of the human condition, and Five Dice, All Threes is no exception. Led by the inimitable Conor Oberst, whose lyrics and voice cut straight to the bone, this album might be their darkest journey yet. It doesn’t flinch—it stares directly into heartbreak, self-destruction, and regret, dragging us along for the ride. Conor’s poetic but unrelenting words feel like they’re prying into the parts of ourselves we’d rather not face, filled with metaphors that are as beautiful as they are devastating. The relationships he writes about are messy and raw, showcasing all the ways we fail each other—and ourselves. There’s no happy ending here, just the weight of living with your mistakes.

And the way this album feels is what makes it unforgettable. Five Dice, All Threes hits like a late-night confession—intimate, overwhelming, and utterly unfiltered. There’s a heaviness to every note, as if the music itself is struggling to carry the burden of Conor’s words. Tracks like “El Capitan” and “Real Feel 105” don’t just tell stories; they make you feel the exhaustion, the longing, the way pain clings to you. This isn’t an album that offers resolution or comfort—it leaves you raw and reflective, but somehow seen. Bright Eyes might be at their bleakest here, but in that darkness, they capture the heartbreak and complexity of being human better than ever.

6. Tigers Blood - Waxahatchee

I've been a fan of Waxahatchee since 2012's American Weekend. Her brand of indie Americana folk, whether acoustic and lo-fi or big, loud, and brash, is distinctive. She's great live, with a presence that brings her lyrics and melodies to life in a way that feels both intimate and electrifying. Over the years, I've watched her evolve as an artist, and this album represents a culmination of that growth. Tigers Blood feels like it was made to connect on a deeply personal level, like it knows exactly where you’ve been and what you’ve done. I have followed her career, and this is probably one of the best albums she's ever made. It's outstanding across the board.

Tigers Blood feels like a masterpiece of storytelling and emotional excavation. The themes are vivid, layered, and deeply human—cycles of growth, the weight of time, and the way relationships leave their mark on us. Tracks like “365” and the title track are particular standouts, blending tender and fierce emotions with poetic precision. Listening to them is like holding up a mirror and seeing the ripple effects of your own actions, the pain they’ve caused, and the complexities of love tangled with regret. At the same time, imagining how it might feel to be the one writing these songs—the protagonist—adds another layer of weight. To pour out your experience, to articulate heartbreak, and to shape your pain into something so beautiful and searing—it must be a process that is both agonizing and redemptive. These songs explore the tension between hurting and being hurt, between holding on and letting go. They’re not just about forgiveness or healing—they’re about sitting in the discomfort of knowing you’ve been the antagonist in someone else’s story while also trying to make sense of your own. Tigers Blood offers no easy answers, just the raw, cathartic honesty of reckoning with yourself. Truly one of the year’s best.

7. The Great American Bar Scene - Zach Bryan

Zach Bryan’s The Great American Bar Scene feels like walking into a small-town dive bar, where the stories spill out as freely as the beer. It’s raw, messy, and deeply human—just like life. Listening to this album, I’m struck by how Bryan captures the contradictions of joy and sorrow, love and loss, grit and grace. It’s like he’s taken all the emotions swirling in my chest and put them to music: the ache of remembering, the pull of nostalgia, and the yearning to make sense of life’s tangled moments. Songs like Bass Boat and Pink Skies cut straight to the heart, mixing tender reflection with gut-wrenching honesty. And The Great American Bar Scene? It’s a damn anthem for anyone trying to hold it all together, balancing chaos and beauty in equal measure. Lines like, “I got a need to find trouble when things are alright / I pine for pain in the morning light / And even with my baby sittin’ next to me / I’m a self-sabotagin’ suicide machine,” linger in a way that’s hard to shake, perfectly capturing that all-too-human tendency to complicate our own happiness.

Sure, this album could be shorter. Bryan’s taking the Robert Pollard approach—just like Guided by Voices, he seems to believe in releasing everything he creates—and yeah, not every track is a standout. But when you’ve got songs as remarkable as these, you forgive a little sprawl. And when Bryan sings, “They hemmed me up and asked me some questions / But I ain’t no damn rat, man!” you know he means it. That raw conviction, that unapologetic honesty, is why this album resonates so deeply. With everything going on in life—transitions, reflections, and uncertainty—this album feels like a companion. It’s imperfect and sprawling, just like the life it mirrors, and that’s why it feels so true. Sometimes you need music that doesn’t tidy things up but instead lets you sit in the mess and find the beauty there. The Great American Bar Scene does just that.

8. SABLE, - Bon Iver

If Bon Iver expanded their EP SABLE to LP length with the same quality in these three songs, it would easily be at the top of the list. These three tracks feel like they were pulled straight from the marrow of regret. By the time the last note fades, I’m left hollowed out but weirdly comforted, like someone else understands the mess I’ve been carrying. “THINGS BEHIND THINGS BEHIND THINGS” hits like staring into a mirror you’d rather avoid—not the curated version of yourself, but the tangled, raw pieces you try to hide. “S P E Y S I D E” keeps that ache alive, a quiet confession of how badly you want to rewrite the past, even when you know you can’t. And “AWARDS SEASON”… man, it’s devastating and hopeful all at once, like finding a sliver of light in a room you’d written off as dark forever. These songs don’t let you look away; they’re relentless but so, so worth it. For me, this EP isn’t just music—it’s a reckoning.

What makes SABLE even more powerful is how it feels like going back to the basics while still carrying all the lessons of the last few years. The sound is stripped-down, like Vernon just set up a mic in the middle of the woods and let the songs pour out. It reminds me so much of For Emma, Forever Ago—that same raw, intimate vibe where every note feels close enough to touch. But there’s also this quiet evolution, like those scrappy, heart-on-sleeve days have been filtered through all the twists and turns of life since. Sure, you can hear hints of 22, A Million and i,i, but here it’s all boiled down to something simple and real. It’s like Vernon’s sitting across from you, ready to share the things he’s been holding onto. Honest, unfiltered, and impossible to forget.

9. Poetry - Dehd

This was my album of the summer. In fact, if you are ever feeling the need for summer post-punk poppy garage rock—you know, the sort of album you listen to on the way to the beach or during a summer road trip—this is your album. It bounces. It pops. It bangs. And, I got to see songs from it live twice this year. Dehd has this incredible knack for making something so simple sound so good. Emily Kempf’s voice is all heart and grit, Jason Balla’s guitar work is packed with twangy hooks, and Eric McGrady’s steady drumming keeps it all glued together. Every track feels like it’s made to be blasted with the windows down, full of bittersweet feelings but still so much fun.

Seeing them live took it to a whole other level. Jason was bouncing all over the stage like he couldn’t contain himself, and it was impossible not to feed off that energy. Emily’s voice hit even harder in person, like every word meant something, and Eric held it all down with his calm, steady beats. They had the crowd moving from start to finish. Songs like "Light On" and "Memories" felt even bigger live, the kind of tracks that make you feel like you’re part of something. If Poetry is summer in album form, their live shows are the wild, sweaty night out you’ll be talking about for weeks.

10. Lola - Goth Babe

This album is just so good. If you need something to play on a road trip or while you’re daydreaming about one, Lola is perfect. It feels like a soundtrack to being on the move, with every song hitting a different mood. "Sadie" is like the first stretch of open road—breezy and full of possibility. Then there’s "Bioluminescence," which glows with this energy that feels like driving through somewhere magical. The whole album just sounds incredible, with layers of synths, guitars, and Griff Washburn’s vocals all blending into this effortless, sun-soaked vibe.

As it goes on, the album hits those quiet moments too. "Insides" is stripped back and personal, like a late-night stop to catch your breath. And "Alone in the Mountains" is exactly what it sounds like—calm, a little lonely, but so beautiful. It’s the kind of record that works for both the highs and the lows, wrapping you up in its sound no matter where you’re at. Every song fits together, making Lola the perfect album to throw on when you’re chasing a sunset, cruising with nowhere to be, or just wanting music that feels as good as it sounds.