[imagesource:foofighters/wikimediacommons]

We’re halfway through the year already. I know, the cry-laugh-vom-shake-dance reaction is appropriate. Time flies and whiplash is unavoidable.

We’re here now, and that means all the ‘so far’ lists are coming out. For starters, Rolling Stones has released its list of the ‘Best Albums of 2023 So Far’, which comes with a significant list of 85 albums unranked and honouring a smorgasbord of genres and artists.

It’s a lot to get through, so I am only taking one or two albums from each page of 10 albums. Yes, you’re about to get a lucky bag of the best albums, so don’t shout at me if your favourite one isn’t mentioned and rather go check out the full list yourself.

Starting with Sabrina Teitelbaum’s self-titled debut as a stunning mess of emotional fury and female outrage. Love an angry woman:

‘Blondshell’ by Blondshell

Countless artists try to revive the Nineties, writes the reviewer, but Teitelbaum is not just evoking another era, she’s reinventing it. Listen to Salad, one out of nine tracks on the album:

Then, a line that might be the best of the year is contained in the album ‘Scaring the Hoes’ by Danny Brown/JPEGMAFIA:

Detroit hip-hop maximalist Danny Brown and rap-electronic eccentric JPEGMAFIA explore a radical, perhaps slightly unhinged, form of honesty. “Lean Beef Patty” rides a pitched up sample of Diddy’s “I Need a Girl (Part 2),” warped into Gen Z oblivion before a staggered synth pulse coaxes a rhythm out of the clashing components. Meanwhile, the ever referential JPEGMAFIA opens with what might be the best line of the year, opting to declare “Fuck Elon Musk” as if it were simply the first thought his mind could muster. It’s the album’s unpolished edges that rope you in. —J.I.

Lend your ears:

Lana Del Rey released ‘Did You Know There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd’ and we’re all iconic sadgirls again:

The core of Ocean Blvd is Del Rey trying to get a closer look at herself, flipping the story as we have come to understand (and maybe even misunderstand) about what she’s trying to tell us. Through stories of her family, a failed relationship, her conflicting desire of being both seen and hidden, Del Rey exposes more than just who she is, but why she is who she is. Songs like the excellent “A&W” — named in reference to the phrase “American whore,” not the root beer — and “Fingertips” are two sides of the same life-storytelling coin. Each ponders sexual development, an estranged mother, and the harrowing reality of carrying trauma deep into adulthood. —B.S.

Here’s A&W:

As the first Foo Fighters album since the death of drummer Taylor Hawkins, ‘But Here We Are’ sorts through the fallout of what happens when things become completely unpredictable:

It possesses a vitality that in a sense is expected given the events that transpired before its release, but its refusal to take the easy route around grief makes its drum fills (played by Grohl in his first return behind the kit on a Foos album since 2005) land with more intensity and its guitar slashes hit harder. Even the more-subdued tracks like the swirling “Show Me How,” which is leavened by Grohl’s daughter Violet’s lilt, have an urgency to them that makes But Here We Are an immersive listen. —M.J.

Listen to Show Me How:

Then, BTS’s Jimin made his solo debut with ‘FACE’, which begins somewhat unexpectedly with:

…horns that sound like they’re coming from an energy-depleted carnival band, bleating out a few jaunty notes before completely falling into a heap. It indicates that Jimin is willing to have fun with the image he’s cultivated over the decade-plus that he’s been in the global spotlight. And while FACE does at times dwell on the existential what-ifs that plague twentysomething men who have the world’s gaze turned squarely toward them, for the most part it’s a compelling showcase of the silky-voiced singer-dancer’s pop strengths. —M.J.

He may be without his fellow BTS members, but the dancing hasn’t stopped:

Next up, Lil Yachty’s ‘Let’s Start Here’:

Let’s Start Here is positioned as a grand reset, an offering of artistic integrity from a musician introduced to the world as the mainstream star of the SoundCloud generation. Except there’s been a subtle force of brilliance lurking beneath Yachty’s earnest, treacly flow. Yachty’s instincts draw him into the expansive soundscapes of experimental jazz and psychedelic rock. While many artists have signaled a need to break new ground — Beyoncé’s Renaissance and Drake’s Honestly Nevermind have set the stage for an even bigger reshuffling on the horizon in popular music — Yachty’s latest effort dives headfirst into the unknown. —J.I.

The full album is on YouTube:

Don’t worry, I wouldn’t neglect your inner metalhead and not include Metallica’s ’72 Seasons’:

On their 12th full-length album, Metallica remember their formative years of going “full speed or nothin’,” a lyric Hetfield reuses from the band’s 1983 debut, Kill ’Em All, on “Lux Æterna,” and also feeling “broken, beat, and scarred,” a line from 2008’s Death Magnetic that shows up on the lumbering “Room of Mirrors.” Metallica have always been masters of corpulent, groove-heavy riffs and labyrinthine song structures, but now, with more than 40 years of experience, they play with more purpose than in their speed-demon days. —K.G.

Stretch your neck first, please:

Joy Oladokun has always given me life and her new album ‘Proof of Life’ is nothing short of a miracle worker:

Joy Oladokun’s second major-label LP is probably the only record this year that’ll feature Houston rapper Maxo Kream, Chris Stapleton, and jam band Manchester Orchestra. A Black, queer artist, this singer-songwriter makes what she calls “helpful anthems.” Proof of Life swerves from the existential toughness and distorted guitars of “We’re All Gonna Die” to “Changes,” a roots-country tune that references the L.A. riots, to “Revolution,” which features Kream and evokes Eighties Afro-pop. Oladokun graciously flows this diverse mix together, creating an open-ended and satisfying whole. —J.D.

Because We’re All Gonna Die:

We’re harking back (ish) with 81-year-old singer-songwriter Paul Simon’s new release ‘Seven Psalms’, which no one was expecting, and which apparently came to him in a dream:

The music is serious, even solemn, just as the format suggests. This time out, mortality and what comes next are the music’s meat. But it’s also surprisingly wide-ranging. What makes this music connect is Simon’s ability to make a spiritual setting feel down-to-earth, what you might expect from one of American pop music’s greatest conversational songwriters. —M.M.

Here’s his album trailer:

I am in this kind of mood, so the last album I am putting here is Yo La Tengo’s ‘This Stupid World’:

This Stupid World has a mood that makes it feel distinct in the band’s esteemed catalog. As its title implies, it’s openly downcast, tinged with images of mortality and the struggle to make something out of whatever time we have while we’re here. “Prepare to die/Prepare yourself while there’s still time,” Ira Kaplan sings like an indie-rock grim reaper on “Until It Happens,” a tetchy acoustic song with a droning organ that sounds like a polite warning siren. But a record this beautiful makes easing toward the abyss feel a little less painful. —J.D.

Enjoy:

Again, check out Rolling Stone for the full list of 85 Best Albums of 2023 So Far.

It’s a fun dive for a rainy afternoon.

[source:rollingstone]