Top Albums of 2023 | Mike Rengel

Photo of Peter Gabriel by Nadav Kander, courtesy of Sonic PR

If I could characterize 2023 in a single word, it would be “relentless.” It wasn’t a bad year, it had plenty of triumphs, smiles, and happy memories to offset loss, work stress, and seemingly endless home repairs. But it never once let up. At various points this year, it felt more as if new music was washing over me, like a flash flood, not soaking in like a steady rain. But as December slowed to a holiday crawl, a review of my notes, playlists, and last.fm charts revealed the music that got me through the year’s persistent pace. As always, I’m not claiming these are the best albums of 2023. Art doesn’t love being quantified, ranked, and graded. Mileage may vary. But these were the albums that soundtracked my joys, offered solace when it was needed, and kept me moving when I felt like I had to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The Top 10:

Peter Gabriel | i/o (Real World)

i/o, Peter Gabriel’s first studio album in 20 years, is a meticulously crafted record, filled with surprises and comforts. Here, Gabriel tackles technology’s place in the present and the future, while contemplating “birth, death, and everything in between.” Despite its often heady themes, this is his most immediate work in years. Songs like the pulsating “Olive Tree,” the thumping “Road to Joy” and the shimmering title track crackle with melody and energy. But there’s still endless detail for successive active listens to reveal. Tracks like the menacing “Four Kinds of Horses” possess an enveloping intricacy, made gloriously supple by Gabriel’s powerful, almost ageless voice, along with his supporting band—including longtime players such as David Rhodes on guitar, Tony Levin on bass-ish things, and Manu Katché on drums. The seemingly endless cast of players on the album is head-spinning, and reflects the time Gabriel spent gestating the record, along with the almost incomprehensible layering of sound on every track. But every musician, instrument, pause, and exhortation on i/o is there for a reason. That’s almost never true, but when it comes to Gabriel, it’s an article of faith. Nothing you wait several decades for can truly match the expectations you’ve built up over time, like layers wound around a ball of string. But a true artist can still deliver something that ends up moving you to tears. i/o does exactly that, and is well worth the wait.

Caroline Polachek | Desire, I Want to Turn Into You (Sony/The Orchard/Perpetual Notice)

Caroline Polacheck has a gift for bridging the chasm between pop and art rock. Desire, her remarkable fourth solo album, is stuffed with pop thrills and experimental twists, all anchored by her stunning, elastic voice. Overflowing with ideas, the album manages to find space for electronic pop, trip hop, Spanish guitars, a children’s choir, bagpipes, and more. In less capable hands, such a willfully eclectic approach would be in danger of collapsing under its own weight. But Polacheck excels at making the idiosyncratic feel sensual, cheeky, exploratory, and, most importantly, natural. She clearly views pop music as an avenue to push the envelope. Desire, while using a different sonic palette, is the triumphant, head-spinning, infectious heir to a lost tradition of innovative 1980s chart-toppers like Kate Bush, Talk Talk, and Peter Gabriel.

U.S. Girls | Bless This Mess (4AD)

Bless This Mess is the latest in subversive soul from Meg Remy, a.k.a. U.S. Girls. Enchantingly unstuck in time, this emotionally complex, irresistible set of funk-R&B is the retro-futuristic sound of 1981 as envisioned in 2039. Remy’s songwriting prowess, along with her unique perspective, is showcased exquisitely in “Tux (Your Body Fills Me, Boo),” a disco showstopper sung from the perspective of an occasionally used tuxedo, that also serves as a metaphor for the skin of a mother’s body, and a woman’s shifting sense of comfort in it. Pregnancy and motherhood inform the entire record, the bulk of which was made while Remy was pregnant with twins. Where else are you going to hear a song about lactation, and one that samples the pulse of a breast pump, no less? Bless This Mess is unapologetically high concept, but with the stylish skill, and effortless tunes, to back it up.

Boygenius | the record (Interscope)

On their own, Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus are each formidable songwriters. But when you put them together, an extra layer of alchemical magic happens. the record, their first proper LP as Boygenius, builds on the success of 2018’s self-titled EP, and is an emotionally intelligent mix of gentle folk and crashing rock, all anchored by those unbeatable moments when all three of their voices merge into a harmonic one. It’s simply amazing to witness them succeed so completely on their own terms. It’s a quietly uncompromising album, one that deeply explores and celebrates womanhood and friendship.

Slowdive | Everything Is Alive (Dead Oceans)

Everything Is Alive continues Slowdive’s improbable late career revival/renaissance. Here, the band leans into modular synths and other electronics, which accentuates their trademark shoegazey atmospherics, and makes for a pulsating and driving, but also meditative, listen. Written by Neil Halsted as an “escape from darkness,” Everything Is Alive is draped in shadows, but leaves room for streaks of light to break through. Halsted, and co-lead singer Rachel Goswell, display a remarkable knack for using their voices as flashlights, instinctively knowing when to let one lead the way, and when to work in tandem to break through the most sonically, and emotionally, tempestuous songs.

Ben Folds | What Matters Most (New West)

In his recent book A Dream About Lightning Bugs, Ben Folds alluded to not being sure if he’d ever make another rock album. It was obvious that he’d long ago grown weary of the endless record/tour/promo cycle, preferring to focus on his ever-growing list of interests, including symphonies, advocating for access to music education, acting, and writing. Which is fair—artists should do what’s interesting to them and what helps them grow creatively. But I held out hope that he’d make at least one more proper record. Folds has spoken about the global COVID pandemic being the impetus behind the album—it was a unique occurrence in our collective lives, and it unexpectedly gave him something to say that he thought would be “useful.” So he went for it, and I’m so very happy he did—gifting us this thoughtful, generous, funny record that is bursting with self-assured craftsmanship. Folds often seems to approach songwriting as thought exercises that, as part of the process, reveal truths. There’s a lot of that exploration leading to discovery in What Matters Most: the ephemeral nature of electronic communication, and longing to be truly known by someone, in “Clouds with Ellipses”; the staggering sense that we’ve collectively slipped into an alternate timeline in “But Wait, There’s More”; the value of putting down our phones and talking a walk, and the way social media and online conspiracy theories have corroded the brains of formerly pleasant friends and acquaintances in “Kristine from the 7th Grade” (one of the best songs Folds has ever written); the nature of friendship and uncovering the memories trapped like amber in boxes full of junk in the astonishingly moving title track. If What Matters Most is indeed Folds’ final shot at the pop idiom, it’s a graceful, profound farewell, and culmination of a lifetime’s learning and craft.

The Church | The Hypnogogue (Communicating Vessels)

There aren’t many artists 40 years and 26 albums into their career as creatively vibrant as The Church are. Main songwriter, lead vocalist, and soul of the group Steve Kilbey has plenty mystique left in his tank, while Ian Haug (formerly of Powderfinger, doing an inspiring job replacing the seemingly irreplaceable Marty Willson-Piper on guitar) continues to help shape the latest chapter of this group that keeps finding new sonic and psychic spaces to inhabit. A concept album set in a dystopian 2054, The Hypnogogue is at once familiar and alluringly fresh, suspenseful and cathartic. Parts—such as the swirling, expansive title track—hearken back to the sometimes-unsettling gothic mysticism of 1992’s Priest=Aura. Others, like “C’est La Vie,” tap into the jangly post-punk that has headlined the band’s most immediate moments over the years. This isn’t just one of The Church’s best latter-day albums, it’s simply one of their best.

The National | First Two Pages of Frankenstein (4AD)

In 2021, National frontman Matt Berninger suffered an acute bout of depression, which led to a year-long spell where he was unable to come up with new melodies or lyrics. It worsened an already frayed band dynamic. He, and the rest of the group, wondered if the band had reached the end of its nearly 25-year line. Instead of worrying about a lack of progress on new music, the band instead decided to focus on renewing their friendships and working relationship. It was an act of courtesy and generosity, to paraphrase guitarist and multi-instrumentalist Aaron Dessner. The result is First Two Pages of Frankenstein, a record that feels like finally managing to pry open a jammed shut door, or coming out of the essence-robbing throes of a depressive episode. Check out my full-length review at: http://theartsstl.com/the-national-first-two-pages-of-frankenstein-4ad/

The Gaslight Anthem | History Books (Thirty Tigers)

udiences have every right to be wary of band reunions. For each artist with a genuine desire to reconnect, both with fans and with themselves, there’s another with ulterior motives, aiming to cash in. The Gaslight Anthem’s final pre-reunion album, 2014’s Get Hurt, was an interesting experiment in pushing forward their sound that ultimately didn’t push far enough. When the group disbanded afterwards, and in the wake of frontman Brian Fallon’s successful, and largely satisfied-sounding, solo career, the prospects of the Gaslight Anthem getting back together seemed not only dim, but increasingly pointless. Fortunately, History Books, the Gaslight Anthem’s first album in nine years, is a pleasant surprise borne of honest intentions. That wouldn’t matter much, however, if the material wasn’t up to snuff. Fortunately, it is. Check out my full-length review at: http://theartsstl.com/the-gaslight-anthem-history-books-rich-mahogany-thirty-tigers/

Lydia Loveless | Nothing’s Gonna Stand in My Way Again (Honey You’re Gonna Be Late/Bloodshot)

The first time I heard Lydia Loveless was at Twangfest at Off Broadway in 2015. Her heart-on-sleeve, warts-and-all brand of rock inflected country instantly turned me into a fan. Her latest album, Nothing’s Gonna Stand in My Way Again, is tender and brazen, heartbroken and headstrong. The version of herself in these songs is a self-aware hot mess with a heart of gold. She’s frequently wounded but perpetually trying. There’s equal parts bravado and vulnerability in revved-up, barroom-ready songs like “Sex and Money” and “French Restaurant.” Loveless perfectly captures the album’s ethos in twangy album standout “Runaway”: “I don’t like to run, I just like to run away.” With each album she makes, Loveless sounds like she gets a little bit closer to uncovering what truly makes her tick, and what would bring her lasting peace. For her sake, I hope she finds it. Until then, the rest of us will continue to be enriched by some of the most honest songwriting you could hope to hear.

The Honorable Mentions:

Blondshell | Blondshell (Partisan)

The 1990s alt rock revival is in full swing—unfortunately, much of it captures the sound of that decade, without gathering enough of its substance, Sabrina Teitelbaum, a.k.a. Blondshell, has infused her self-titled debut album with not only howling Nineties guitars and psycho-lyrical angst, but also Jewish-American and LGBTQ+ perspective. Teitelbaum has the good sense not to drown her hooks under another low-resolution reproduction of blurred, grungy lines—instead, her production is clear and modern, and her guitars and vocals are as strong and supple as her melodies. This is the best kind of debut—arriving seemingly fully formed, but also hinting at greater promise to come.

Beth Bombara | It All Goes Up (Black Mesa)

It All Goes Up, the latest album from STL’s own Beth Bombara, is her most confident, consistent work to date. It’s apparent in her plaintive voice, her blend of Americana and Beatles-sticky melodies, her lyrical guitar playing, and genuine, guileless approach to songwriting. Even if you’re not from the 314, you’ll feel a slice of the red brick embrace in her music that, even when it’s searching, sounds like home.

The New Pornographers | Continue as a Guest (Merge)

The addition of bassist/saxophonist Zach Djanikian lends this set of already strong AC Newman songs a fresh new vibe to augment the band’s arty power pop ideal.

Nation of Language | Strange Disciple (Play It Again Sam)

For their third album, Brooklyn’s Nation of Language has found a way to make their signature sound, a rich mélange of synth pop, goth-influenced post-punk, and Krautrock, both more accessible and more adventurous. Songs like the woozy “Weak in Your Light,” the perfect electro-pop of “Sole Obsession,” and the frantic “Stumbling Still” are different facets of the record’s thematic focus on reality-warping infatuation.

Bully | Lucky for You (Sub Pop)

Alicia Bognanno writes meaty, buzzy songs that live in the liminal space where indie, grunge, and pop punk converge. Her latest record, Lucky for You, is filled with attention-grabbing tunes about grief, sobriety, and politics. “Hard to Love” is a fuzzy, overdriven throwdown, where Bognanno’s vocals go from a scream to a sigh and back again. She teams up with Soccer Mommy on the Buzz Bin-worthy “Lose You,” and channels the collective rage of being a woman in America in 2023 in the gripping “Ms. America.” There’s a focused, simmering anger as energy to Lucky for You that makes it one of the most arresting listens of the year.

Hannah Georgas | I’d Be Lying If I Said I Didn’t Care (Beetle Bomb/Real Kind)

Hannah Georgas’ previous album, All That Emotion, was produced by the now in-demand Aaron Dessner. His production lent an interesting new dimension to her sound, but also had a tendency to obscure her quietly perceptive artistic voice in someone else’s wrapping. I’d Be Lying strips away these extra layers, and presents a more candid side of Georgas’ songwriting. “Better Somehow” is a prime showcase for this approach, finding acoustic guitars in conversation with fluttering analog synthesizers. On tracks like “Beautiful View” and “Fake Happy,” Georgas displays her knack for writing songs that say something new with each listen, while “Home” disguises a yearning lyric with one of the most upbeat, infectious arrangements she’s ever written.

Blur | The Ballad of Darren (Parlophone)

Heralded, and bolstered by, their triumphant reunion shows at Wembley this summer, Blur’s unexpected new album The Ballad of Darren wisely shies away from aping past glories. As one of the bands most closely associated with the Tony Blair era and 1990s Cool Britannia, it’s fascinating to see them return with an album that seems more attuned with the UK’s Brexit boondoggle malaise. That’s not to say that this is a morose record. The Ballad of Darren is frequently vigorous, enlivened by some excellent Graham Coxon guitar work. But at its core are Damon Albarn’s dispatches from entrenched middle age: loss, regret, and using the sometimes confusing spot you find yourself at now as the new starting point for the rest of your life. Album bookends “The Ballad” and “The Heights” are achingly pretty (with the latter also featuring the stately-squiggly guitar lines that Coxon does so well), while the jangly swagger of “Barbaric” has the nearly-telepathic interplay that only a band that’s been playing together for over 30 years can possess. The album’s lead singles, the howling “St. Charles Square” and the engaging “The Narcissist,” manage the difficult trick of sounding enough like Blur to be familiar, but also enough like the work of men who wouldn’t be making this record if it was only going to be a nostalgia-fueled cash-in. Even during Blur’s heyday, Albarn always sounded like the oldest twentysomething in Britpop. On The Ballad of Darren, he allows himself to finally embrace that inner gruff middle-aged man, without letting him take complete control. If only all reunion records had this much life, and reason for existing, in them.

Everything But the Girl | Fuse (Virgin)

Raise your hand if you had a new Everything But the Girl album on your 2023 bingo card. That’s what I thought. Fuse, the unexpected new album from 1990s electro-soul icons Ben Watts and Tracey Thorn, is their first since 1999. Fuse is a mix of acoustic intimacy and downtempo house beats, all anchored by Thorn’s inimitable voice. The rubbery, woozy basslines of album opener “Nothing Left to Lose” segue perfectly into the late night reflections of “Run a Red Light,” a track that marries the rain slicked nocturnal urbanism of the Blue Nile with the slow burning tension of Massive Attack. Most impressively, Fuse finds Everything But the Girl wholly unencumbered by the weight of a quarter century’s changing tastes. Instead of furtively chasing trends, Watt and Thorn blend a few new tricks into their iconic combination of the club and the comedown, and neatly incorporate their distinctive perspective as both bandmates and a married couple. The quality of the songs, and the assuredness of the performances, are as noteworthy as the fact that the album exists in the first place.

Wilco | Cousin (dBpm)

Wilco’s recent recorded output has diverged from their ever more explosively inventive live show. The band has often seemed content to stick to a gently rolling acoustic sound that comes across as an extension of Jeff Tweedy’s solo work. Cousin doesn’t completely scrap that approach, but it does mark a welcome return to a more arty, exploratory side of Wilco. Nels Cline’s wiry, spiraling guitars are back at the forefront of the mix, and Tweedy’s has conjured some of the band’s most memorable and direct melodies in ages, best embodied by the warped jangle of lead single “Evicted” and slowly unfolding chaos of album opener “Infinite Surprise.”

Pale Blue Eyes | This House (Full Time Hobby)

This House, the sophomore album from Pale Blue Eyes is where countless strains of what used to be known as college rock merge into a highly satisfying singularity of dream pop, synth pop, shoegaze, and atmospheric indie rock.

Art School Girlfriend | Soft Landing (Fiction)

Soft Landing, the second album by Welsh artist Polly Mackey, melds electronica energy to singer-songwriter intimacy. Skittering beats support Mackey’s lush voice and confessional atmosphere in “A Place to Lie”; swirling, cyclical synths send hushed vocals aloft in “Close to the Clouds.” Soft Landing sounds firmly of the present, but recalls the spirit of the late 1990s when it seemed as if song-based electronic music was the future of pop.

The Clientele | I Am Not There Anymore (Merge)

Indie lifers The Clientele have quietly made a career out of their signature blend of breathy vocals and wispy, reverb-drenched fingerpicked guitar. I Am Not There Anymore, their finest album since 2003’s The Violet Hour, has the pleasantly gauzy mood of a meandering walk on a foggy morning. | Mike Rengel

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