When Peter Jackson’s “The Beatles: Get Back” was released a few weeks ago, Beatlemania started spreading around my house (and the world, it seems) like it was 1964. For eight hours over several days, I sat mesmerized by a glimpse I’d never been offered into the Beatles’ personalities. By ’69, Paul was the sober adult in the room, George was ready to be a frontman, John was a strung-out goofball, Ringo was just happy to be there, and Yoko’s presence felt strange, but I don’t see any evidence that she broke up the band.

Needing more Beatles in my life after I finished the series, I took a trip through their discography and decided to rank my 100 favorite songs. Before I shared the list with anyone, my son convinced me that the better reveal would be as part of a series of polls on Twitter to determine the best Beatles song.

If you followed the polls, you know that “Let It Be” narrowly edged out “Here Comes the Sun”, with “Hey Jude” finishing third. The popularity of these three songs recorded right at the end of the group’s run makes one wonder just what they could have accomplished with another year or two together. What you didn’t entirely learn from Twitter was how I seeded the bracket. While my updates after each round often referred to upsets and disclosed some seedings, I was careful not to put seed numbers next to songs in the polls so as not to bias the results.

I’ve made a few tweaks to the rankings since the tournament ended, but the list below is directionally the same as the list that seeded the tourney. I included 128 songs in the bracket, but I’ll keep this countdown to the top 100, plus a few honorable mentions. Among songs seeded lower than 100th, only three won their first-round matchup on Twitter:

“I Am the Walrus”, from Magical Mystery Tour (103)

“Michelle”, from Rubber Soul (104)

“Happiness Is a Warm Gun”, from the white album (106)

I’m disappointed that each of these songs knocked off a twenty-something seed, but I could be convinced that I underseeded each of them. “Walrus” is a particularly trippy trip back to ’67, “Michelle” is beautiful and memorable, and “Happiness” is a wild romp I probably penalized too much for its title. Song #101 was “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da”, which is either the most fun song they ever recorded or the stupidest. It might be both.

On with the top 100:

100. “Real Love”, released with a 1995 anthology

Beatles fans of my generation didn’t get to experience the legendary 11-album run in real time. Instead, we got this hopeful John Lennon demo finished by his bandmates 15 years after his death. It lacks the real-time magic of the 99 songs ahead, but it’s worth acknowledging that the incredible gift of the Beatles hasn’t stopped giving.

99. “I Wanna Be Your Man”, from With The Beatles

an early pop-rock workout with addicting energy

98. “Do You Want to Know a Secret”, from Please Please Me

A little precious, particularly for a John/George collab. The musicianship was yet to come, but the ear for pleasing melodies was there in ’63.

97. “Honey Pie”, from the white album

Those of you who, like me, spend far more time with the white album’s first disc than its second may read this title and think of the goofy “Wild Honey Pie”. This is disc 2’s saccharine throwback, with which I’m in love, but I’m lazy.

96. “She’s Leaving Home”, from Sgt. Pepper

They tried a little of everything on Sgt. Pepper, didn’t they? This song was such a carnival of sounds and octaves that it’s hardly a surprise the next song on the album was about a literal circus.

95. “When I Get Home”, from A Hard Day’s Night

A Hard Day’s Night is absolutely loaded with two-minute bursts of glee. The Monkees made millions aping this sound.

94. “Another Girl”, from Help!

93. “You’re Going to Lose That Girl”, from Help!

Well, at least another one will be available when you lose her.

92. “I Want to Tell You”, from Revolver

Revolver dips into Eastern music and closes with psychedelic effects, but the songs underneath the production sound like they could have fit on Rubber Soul. This is a pop song slowed down by a tab or two of acid.

91. “Anna (Go To Him)”, from Please Please Me

Hidden right behind “I Saw Her Standing There” on the debut record, this one might feel like a throwaway, but its slow groove evidenced the band’s songwriting chops beyond the hard-charging frenzy of the early singles.

90. “Please Mr. Postman”, from With the Beatles

They recorded a lot of covers in the early going. Some, like this one, gave a glimpse into the sound they’d make their own.

89. “Every Little Thing”, from Beatles for Sale

a simple tune, but that gong is a revolution

88. “Strawberry Fields Forever”, from Magical Mystery Tour

I learned by hosting the tournament that people love this song. I appreciate it, but among the barrage of greatness in ’67, I find the musical experimentation on Sgt. Pepper more fun than the lyrical spiritual awakening of Magical Mystery Tour.

87. “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”

More of an introduction to an experience than a song, I actually prefer the proto-hip-hop beat of the reprise later in the album, but I counted the recordings as one song for the sake of this countdown.

86. “I’m Looking Through You”, from Rubber Soul

Rubber Soul is a transitional album. The group demonstrated a willingness to add complexity to their songwriting, but tracks like “I’m Looking Through You” showcase the best pop-rock they recorded before they found drugs.

85. “Martha My Dear”, from the white album

Don’t forget me.

84. “All I’ve Got To Do”, from With The Beatles

Even when they weren’t directly covering Smokey and the Miracles, his influence was all over their early sound.

83. “Mother Nature’s Son”, from the white album

This is Paul, all alone, showing a depth of songwriting skill to match his vocal range.

82. “The Long and Winding Road”, from Let It Be

I’ve read a lot of hateful words about this song since the documentary came out and, frankly, it’s soured me on it a bit. On one hand, there’s an incredible evolution from the stripped-down pop of the ’63 albums to the orchestra-backed grandeur of the late stages. On the other hand, that grandeur puts a few layers between the band and its listeners. Have we seen this road before? I’m not sure, but I’m not always in the mood to follow it to its end.

81. “Hey Bulldog”, from Yellow Submarine

The true hidden gem in The Beatles’ catalog? Those who bought the rest of the albums but waited 40 years to hear Yellow Submarine on Spotify were rewarded with one high-octane action movie theme song among the dross.

80. “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill”, from the White Album

I hope we’re all a little less threatened by Yoko’s first appearance now that the documentary has quieted some of the chatter about her responsibility for the breakup. What did she kill?

79. “I Should Have Known Better”, from A Hard Day’s Night

Here’s the antidote to “The Long and Winding Road”. No violins; no pretension; just joy. “And I do/ hey hey hey/ and I dooooooo!”

78. “With a Little Help from My Friends”, from Sgt. Pepper

The only Ringo-sung tune on the countdown. “Don’t Pass Me By” may be the better song, but the cultural impact of this one packs it with nostalgia for a time my generation never experienced.

77. “I’ll Cry Instead”, from A Hard Day’s Night

Could the Dave Clark Five write a song like this? The Lovin’ Spoonful? Had The Beatles broken up after the two 1964 records, we would never have heard 76 of the 100 songs on this list, but I think they’d still be a top-25 band of all time.

76. “It’s Only Love”, from Help!

And in the middle years, John got sad.

75. “It Won’t Be Long”, from With The Beatles

It’s in your head right now, isn’t it? You’re welcome.

74. “The Ballad of John and Yoko”, non-album single

As a Yoko apologist, I think I love this song just because the old guard doesn’t.

73. “She Said She Said”, from Revolver

One of those Revolver songs that sounds like Rubber Soul recorded on a different planet.

72. “Tell Me Why”, from A Hard Day’s Night

Those doo-wop harmonies sound like Paul, but John was equally reverent of Black music and equally capable of moving hips.

71. “Because”, from Abbey Road

As a bit of a punsmith, I have a soft spot for this one.

70. “Back in the U.S.S.R”, from the white album

That airplane takeoff sound effect kicks off the album where they throw caution to the wind and tinker with every genre, including several that didn’t exist yet.

69. “Lovely Rita”, from Sgt. Pepper

the best song ever written about a meter maid?

68. “I’m Only Sleeping”, from Revolver

Drugs, man.

67. “I’ve Got a Feeling”, from Let It Be

The best John/Paul collaboration is 66 spots ahead, but this is a great example of the two geniuses sharing air space.

66. “From Me To You”, non-album single

One of the best laughs from “Get Back” came when John was late for a morning session and Paul started improvising a song with Ringo. The captions at the bottom of the screen credited the song to “Lennon/McCartney/Starkey”, sending up the duo’s insistence on sharing credit for each other’s songs even as they grew apart as songwriters. “From Me To You” was a true Lennon/McCartney collaboration from the days when the double credit came with some mystery as to a song’s true origins.

65. “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”, from Sgt. Pepper

This might be the first Beatles song that could absolutely not have been written by the same group in ’64.

64. “Revolution”, non-album B-side

This is the radio-friendly one, not either of the experiments on the white album. We all play it when we can.

63. “You Won’t See Me”, from Rubber Soul

Harmonies worthy of the Beach Boys

62. “The Fool on the Hill”, from Magical Mystery Tour

Does anyone else picture Willy Wonka’s factory, viewed through the gates, when they hear this song?

61. “Nowhere Man”, from Rubber Soul

Bob Dylan’s fingerprints are all over the ’65 albums.

60. “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away”, from Help!

The Beatles brought us so much joy, but the darker moments like this are a critical part of the human experience. Like kind of music they made, John and his mates dirged better than just about anyone.

59. “Helter Skelter”, from the white album

Oh, look out! The Fab Four’s first foray into heavy metal contributed to the birth of yet another genre.

58. “Hold Me Tight”, from With The Beatles

Sometimes you’ve got to hide your love away. Other times, it’s right there, waiting to be held tight. What a difference a year makes.

57. “Paperback Writer”, non-album single

This one kind of sounds like a ripoff of The 5th Dimension, but, as always, The Beatles did it first.

56. “Any Time At All”, from A Hard Day’s Night

I feel like I’ve written about this song five times already. The up-tempo songs on A Hard Day’s Night were practically indistinguishably great.

55. “Dig a Pony”, from Let It Be

This is at least 40 spots higher than it would have been had I not just watched its birth over eight hours of session footage.

54. “Oh! Darling”, from Abbey Road

Abbey Road shows up nine times in the countdown, but that’s a severe undercount, as two three-song suites show up later as individual entries.

53. “Hello, Goodbye”, from Magical Mystery Tour

This song and several others from Magical Mystery Tour are so familiar today as to sound hackneyed – almost cloying – but they must have been a revelation in ’67.

52. “Ticket To Ride”, from Help!

Speaking of ubiquity…

51. “Rocky Raccoon”, from the White Album

The Beatles song that most makes me think of my mom. That’s worth a few bonus points.

50. “Don’t Let Me Down”, non-album B-side

John seemed obsessed with this one during the Let It Be sessions. It would have been interesting to see how it came about that it didn’t make the album.

49. “Things We Said Today”, from A Hard Day’s Night

Toward the end, right after “I’ll Cry Instead”, A Hard Day’s Night takes on a more sober tone. It’s almost like the whole album supported some sort of running narrative.

48. “We Can Work It Out”, non-album single

The prevailing themes of the early albums seemed to be “hey girl, you’re swell; let’s snuggle” and “hey girl, don’t snuggle with that other guy; that’s not swell”. In the middle years, as the four pursued serious relationships, the love songs matured.

47. “Penny Lane”, from Magical Mystery Tour

This slice-of-life vignette may have been a precursor to “A Day In the Life”, which is still to come on this list.

46. “I Feel Fine”, non-album B-side

another masterclass in pop songcraft

45. “A Hard Day’s Night”

A great song, but I’m stunned that it blew thorough four rounds before bowing out in the quarterfinals. Lots of praise on Twitter for the opening chord which, to be fair, was a revolutionary way to kick off a 30-minute blast of perfect pop music.

44. “All You Need Is Love”, from Magical Mystery Tour

Things seemed to start looking up for John between his sorrowful contributions to Help! in ’65 and this fundamental statement from ’67, a template for his later solo work.

43. “I Will”, from the white album

Here’s Mom again. Mother-son dance at my wedding. The Beatles wrote a song for every occasion.

42. “Help!”

The album is all over the place; the song is straightforward and features some of the group’s best harmonies.

41. “All My Loving”, from With The Beatles

When my daughter was a toddler, we used to sing “close your eyes and I’ll” and wait for an adorable “kiss you”. Another perfect piece of pop.

40. “She Loves You”, non-album single

From a distance, the “yeah yeah yeah” feels a little juvenile, but up close, the melodies that precede the preschool chorus are divine.

39. “Twist and Shout”, from Please Please Me

A thrilling piece of music to listen to in 2022, I can only imagine what this sounded like in 1963. The song that best explains Beatlemania.

38. “Sexy Sadie”, from the white album

She’ll get hers yet.

37. “Day Tripper”, non-album single

that opening guitar riff…

36. “Please Please Me”

This appears to be the part of the countdown where the title tracks reside. I’m glad the band moved on from harmonica-driven songs, but they made great use of what they had available before the recording budget exploded.

35. “And Your Bird Can Sing”, from Revolver

One of the more sober pieces on Revolver, the harmonies are topped only by the intricate guitar work.

34. “The Night Before”, from Help!

Like the song right before this album’s closer, this one feels cheated by its placement right after the opening title track. They gave us one more infectious melody before the record takes a dark turn.

33. “Lady Madonna”, non-album single

You can hear Paul’s future solo work in the bouncing piano. This song screams ’70s like nothing else in The Beatles’ catalog.

32. “You Never Give Me Your Money”, from Abbey Road

We’re not done with the second half of Abbey Road, which is sometimes combined into a single medley, probably because this song’s melody is reprised during “Carry That Weight”. Upon closer inspection, this song starts and stops before the medley takes shape.

31. “Got To Get You Into My Life”, from Revolver

This was the biggest post-tournament gainer, moving up 29 spots. I was disappointed when this song took out “Tomorrow Never Knows” in the second round, but I came to appreciate the greatness I may have overlooked in waiting for Revolver to get to its bonkers closer.

30. “Here, There, and Everywhere”, from Revolver

There may not have been ten songwriters in the 20th century who could write a ballad this beautiful. This essay later supposes that three different Beatles wrote a better one.

29. “Two of Us”, from Let It Be

An acoustic ballad, put perhaps not the romantic one its title suggests, “Two of Us” is by far the softest and sweetest of the band’s 11 album openers.

28. “Blackbird”, from the white album

You know it by heart. Feel free to pause and hum a few bars before moving on to #27.

27. “And I Love Her”, from A Hard Day’s Night

My sister and her husband sang this song at my wedding. This album does sentimentality as well as it does straightforward pop-rock.

26. “Love You To”, from Revolver

25. “Within You Without You”, from Sgt. Pepper

George kickstarted the group’s fascination with Indian music, culture, and meditation, but John seems to have taken a shine as well. They tinkered with sitar-driven ragas on Revolver and knocked it into full gear on Sgt. Pepper. Each is a masterpiece.

24. “In My Life”, from Rubber Soul

As they transitioned from pop tunesmiths to psychedelic tinkerers, the group dropped one last Hallmark-movie-ready earworm. In almost anyone else’s catalog, it would be the pinnacle. I found myself rooting against it in almost every round of the tournament, favoring the sophistication of songwriting elsewhere.

23. “Across the Universe”, from Let It Be

One of the few Beatles songs I heard first as a cover, when Fiona Apple’s version closed out “Pleasantville”, selling at least one copy of Let It Be.

22 “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)”, from Abbey Road

One can’t blame The Beatles for tiring of writing lush melodies and retreating into the bleakness of a drawn-out dirge bemoaning unrequited lust. They deserved the break.

21. “Cry Baby Cry”, from the white album

20. “I’ll Follow the Sun”, from Beatles for Sale

19. “Something”, from Abbey Road

18. “Eleanor Rigby”, from Revolver

17. “Yesterday”, from Help!

16. “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)”, from Rubber Soul

15. “If I Fell”, from A Hard Day’s Night

14. “For No One”, from Revolver

Here we have eight gorgeous ballads from seven different albums, each somehow better than the perfect one before it.

13. “Get Back”, from Let It Be

Did anyone not get hooked on this song again when you first heard about the documentary? Watching the band workshop the lyrics together was a fascinating glimpse into their music-first-lyrics-second philosophy.

12. “Let It Be”, from Let It Be

The champion. I seeded it eighth, but found myself voting against it in several rounds. It’s such a brilliant piece of music that the whole world has been fascinated with it and bored by it. Your mileage only varies based on which point in the cycle you currently occupy.

11. “Dear Prudence”, from the white album

The white album’s only failing is that it tries to be everything to everyone. There’s no sense picking nits among the most complete catalog in popular music, but it’s fun to imagine an hourlong record culled from the best of the sprawling, self-titled album. Whether they stopped there or cut down to a four-song EP, “Dear Prudence” would be the epic centerpiece.

10. “Here Comes the Sun”, from Abbey Road

a worthy runner-up

9. “Mean Mr. Mustard”/”Polythene Pam”/”She Came In Through the Bathroom Window”, from Abbey Road

8. “Golden Slumbers”/”Carry That Weight”/”The End”, from Abbey Road

These six songs are often packaged with “You Never Give Me Your Money” and “Sun King” as “Abbey Road Medley”, and while that’s quite a body of work, my son noticed something when he helped me with this project. The medley pauses briefly between Bathroom Window and Slumbers. The most rousing moments on the album come during the transitions buried within these suites. “Polythene Pam” giving way to “She Came In Through the Bathroom Window” is unforgettable. The drum fills that begin and end “Carry That Weight” keep you begging for more 15 minutes into the medley.

7. “Come Together”, from Abbey Road

This project reinforced for me the greatness of Abbey Road. For all the majesty of the second side, it’s the effects that kick off the album and the off-the-wall lyrics about Old Flattop that best represent the pinnacle of The Beatles’ run.

6. “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, from the white album

George was famously responsible for song #19 and #10, but this is peak George. As he pulled away from his bandmates, he invited Eric Clapton to duel with him.

5. “Hey Jude”, non-album single

Pretty good song. You may have heard it.

4. “Tomorrow Never Knows”, from Revolver

How many album covers from 1967 were images of bands turning off their minds, relaxing, and floating downstream? This song had more imitators than Elvis, but I’m not sure anyone has quite recreated the whole vibe, from the sitar freakout to vocals fed through a speaker cabinet to passages from The Tibetan Book of the Dead looped backwards. It’s a landmark recording no one else could have pulled off.

3. “I Saw Her Standing There”, from Please Please Me

A case can be made that The Beatles were two bands: the mop-topped cover band that set the world on fire in the early ’60s and the tireless innovators who expanded the language of music with each late-’60s release. Much like Paul’s “woooo” may never have happened if not for Little Richard, the second iteration of the Beatles may never have existed without the first. “I Saw Her Standing There”, track one on the group’s first studio album, is the pinnacle of the first wave and should be held in similar esteem to the great songs from the later period.

2. “I’ve Just Seen a Face”, from Help!

More than fifty years after the band’s demise, they still hold such power than no one in your life is “the Beatles guy” the way someone might be “the Steely Dan guy” or “the Pearl Jam girl”. To have a favorite Beatles song, generally, is to recognize the greatness of a song whose greatness practically everyone recognizes, but to hold it in even higher regard than the masses for one reason or another. My friend Dalton is a “Magical Mystery Tour” guy. My mom likes the mop-top days. Both are notable traits, but neither is an identity the way an obsession with Roy Orbison or Pat Benatar might be.

My favorite Beatles song is a deep cut from “Help!”. Right before the listener is mesmerized by “Yesterday”, two minutes of plucked guitar and giddy young love blow by so fast that you might not notice it. Preferring such a deep cut doesn’t make me interesting. To me, though, it makes The Beatles more fascinating. In addition to all the Let It Bes and Here Comes the Suns we know by heart, they wrote and recorded all-time great songs that you might not have noticed.

1. “A Day in the Life”, from Sgt. Pepper

“I’ve Just Seen a Face may be my favorite Beatles song, but that assessment may be colored by my desire to avoid the hegemony of what I perceived until this week as consensus around “A Day in the Life”. It’s the closer on one of the landmark albums in the rock canon. It maximizes the talents of two of the greatest songwriters in the history of the world, both of whom happened to grow up in Liverpool in the 1950s. McCartney fans get the factual account of the narrator’s morning ritual, a day like any other until he falls into a dream. Lennon fans get the dream: A suicide in a car. 4,000 holes to count in Blackburn, Lancashire. We all get the orchestra tying the day together and the acid trip through the band’s birth that closes the album. It’s not perfect. They’d already achieved perfection and kept marching forward. It’s a reimagining of what a song could be, a bold, new punctuation mark on a statement no one saw coming.

Time Decorated profiles 1,000 songs by 1,000 different artists, counting them down and dividing them into 12 playlists based on various ways musicians connect with their listeners.

A thousand is a lot of songs and a lot of different artists. It took most of a year to curate the list and I spent considerable time outside my comfort zone, searching for great songs by singers and groups that don’t typically populate my Spotify history. Here’s something I’ve learned about music though: you can never get enough.

The day I gave my printer the final word to print a full run, I heard Afghan Whigs’ “John the Baptist” for the first time. How did I miss this? While it may indeed be a stronger cut than “Faded”, the latter is in the book, ranked 844th and tucked neatly into the Careful With That Axe, Eugene playlist. No sweat.

A few days later, I woke up in the middle of the night with The Guess Who’s “These Eyes” in my head. A sixties classic with 21st-century pop culture relevance (If you don’t own “Superbad” on DVD or some other format, pick it up the next time you’re shopping at Bull Moose – you won’t regret it), it would have strengthened the Make ‘Em Laugh playlist for sure.

It’s impossible to undergo a project like this without some regrets. My first book, For the Record, had been published for two years before I heard Jonathan Richman’s deliciously irreverent “I Jonathan”, a contender for the top 250 albums ever, much less the top 1,000. Life goes on.

And so it does. While print media is a tablet carved with centuries-old etchings, digital media is a perpetually blank slate fit for the kind of tablet you buy your kid so you can get work done in the afternoon. What better place than a blog to let you know which songs I regret leaving off the list a few weeks after publishing?

Following are 10 great songs by artists not represented in Time Decorated. I won’t try to rank them or tell you they’re the 10 best that missed the list, because I’d surely come across something a week from now that missed the cut and may be even better. Instead, I’ll tell you which of the book’s 12 playlists they’d best fit and give you a brief overview.

“Great Balls of Fire”, Jerry Lee Lewis, 1957 (I Want Candy)

The I Want Candy playlist is stuffed to the gills with golden oldies. You’ve known most of these songs by heart since before you knew what the song was called or who sang it. Jerry Lee Lewis had two such hits: this one and “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On”. While I felt the list had enough ’50s nuggets, one has to admire Lewis’s wanton disregard for the health and safety of his piano.

“These Eyes”, The Guess Who, 1969 (Make ‘Em Laugh)

Like so many other songs on the Make ‘Em Laugh playlist, this one was played and produced with sincerity, but one generation’s tragic love song is another generation’s frat party singalong. Burton Cummings wails with pain, reaching for a higher note with each successive “aa-are crying”. Decades removed, his pain is our guilty pleasure.

“Groove Me”, King Floyd, 1971 (Feel It All Over)

Somewhat cruelly, neither this song’s title nor its performer are household names despite the song’s ubiquity. Perhaps it’s because the song’s calling card is not King Floyd’s buttery vocals or the groovy seventies beat, but the brass and the bass that power the brief, simple chorus, lending atmosphere uncommon among the era’s R&B staples.

“True”, Spandau Ballet, 1983 (Lights Down Low)

Another one you know by heart, Spandau Ballet’s meal ticket combines timeless moments (ha, ha ha haaaaa ha) with eighties pop radio schmaltz. As addicting as the memorable moments are, I feel better eschewing the schmaltz by letting the sample from PM Dawn’s “Set Adrift on Memory Bliss” represent the song in the book.

“My Definition of a Boombastic Jazz Style”, Dream Warriors, 1991 (Party All the Time)

If you remember these Canadian goofball rappers, it’s probably for “Wash Your Face In My Sink”, the lead single from their only album, but for my money, they earned their stripes right from this introductory track. There’s certainly a De La Soul influence at play here, but Dream Warriors carved out their own sound with little respect for the direction the art form was headed at the time.

“To Be Young (Is To Be Sad, Is To Be High)”, Ryan Adams, 2000 (A Little Bit Country)

Ryan Adams has always existed just outside my orbit. An alt-country hero, he appealed to people who liked the same music I liked, but it wasn’t until this song graced the opening credits of “Old School” that I ever came to appreciate him. “To Be Young” recalls the Rolling Stones’ many dalliances with country, though this one drives a little harder and smirks a little wider and might even make Mick Jagger a little jealous.

“$4 Vic/Nothing But Me and You (Ftl)”, El-P, 2012 (Bust-Your-Shit-Open Beats)

With Run the Jewels partner Killer Mike, El-P lands a song on the precipice of the top 100. Mike adds a solo track to the list – the punishing “Reagan” – and El-P could just as easily have done so with “$4 Vic”, the closer of the last album he released before the duo launched their impressive run of self-titled albums.

“No Woman”, Whitney, 2016 (Killing Me Softly)

Another Whitney features prominently on the list, but the indie rock iteration just missed with this plaintive opener to their debut album “Light Upon the Lake”.

“You Without End”, Deafheaven, 2018 (Draw Me Like One Of Your French Girls)

Black metal shoegaze pioneers Deafheaven landed three of their first four albums in For the Record‘s countdown. The strength of their sound lies in the juxtaposition of lush, inviting atmosphere with growled, incomprehensible lyrics. Simply put, they’re an album band, not a song band, but that’s true of many other artists who landed a song in Time Decorated, and this one certainly wouldn’t have felt out of place.

“Jungle Skies”, Black Foxxes, 2020 (You Want It Darker)

Not only do these 10 songs cover 10 different playlists, but they represent every decade from the fifties to hellish one we’re living through now. Little-known Black Foxxes use the misery of 2020 as a backdrop for the dreary-but-determined “Jungle Skies”.

Music and time are inextricable. At its essence, a record is just a document of the sound happening at a particular time in a particular place. Records freeze moments in time and allow us to replay them hours, days, years, and decades later. Certain classic songs are considered “timeless”, by all means a compliment, but a great record often comes with a timestamp. Try to separate “What’s Going On” from the early 1970s and it’s stripped of much of its weight. Record an album that sounds just like “Nevermind” three or four years later and the sound of a revolution becomes homage at best, ripoff at worst.

The story of the 2010s, as told through American politics, is a tale of two halves. The first was marked by hope and change, at least in campaign speak, but the spoils of economic recovery were consolidated in the hands of the few as corporate greed left millions in poverty even as GDP soared. Racism and bigotry of all stripes lurked under the surface as media pitted distant tribes against one another by developing and propagating separate truths. The second half of the decade brought all the ugliness to the surface, the president and his flock espousing and endorsing anything hateful and divisive.

This split is apparent in the decade’s music. Many of the great records from the first half are straightforward rock albums- The National and The Black Keys writing melodies and grooves for the comfort of a suburban living room- but Kendrick Lamar and Kanye West were warning us that the comfort of the suburbs still wasn’t available to all. In the second half, Beyoncé shared her personal horrors and A Tribe Called Quest rose from the dead to warn us of the dangers ahead, while U.S. Girls and Anohni reminded us that it wasn’t all peaches and cream in the Obama era either.

At some point, the frequency of ugly abuses of white male privilege made rock albums cut from a 20th-century mold feel less relevant. The second half of the decade was marked by stellar contributions from women and artists of color telling their stories of oppression (past and present) and empowerment (present and future). Some of the best white music of the last few years was made by progressive country singers emboldened to share messages of acceptance and unity to audiences deep in the clutches of Fox News and the church of white supremacy.

There is no single theme that runs through all 200 of the decade’s best albums- there never is- but as the years passed, the voices that dominated the airwaves grew to disproportionately represent the voices of oppressed communities. There’s a little of everything here, but the artists at the top don’t look like the Beatles and the Stones.

This list doesn’t stay true to the rankings in the book, but it doesn’t veer too far off course either. Albums released in 2018 and 2019 weren’t included in the book, so even if you have the rankings in the book committed to memory, there are 39 new entries here. Let’s get on with it.

200. “Yeezus”, Kanye West, 2013

I hated this one when it came out. Kanye had traded the rich, radio-friendly production of his prior albums for massive ego and ugly truths. Listened twice. Wrote it off.

I gave it another spin a few months ago and realized my initial assessment couldn’t have been much more wrong. Sure, the ego is off-putting, but the content is real. When he says that, even as a millionaire many times over, he feels like a slave to the brands that own his soul, it can come off as hollow, but with the game rigged so deeply against black Americans, racism dripping from every institution, what right do I have to judge? By stating a preference for Kanye’s slick, pop-sampled prior work over the more demanding beats and rhymes of “Yeezus”, I was asking the artist to come to me, rather than meeting him where he was and assessing the merits of his work through the lens of its intended audience. Once I found myself willing to take those steps, I discovered another game-changing masterpiece.

199. “untitled. unmastered”, Kendrick Lamar, 2016

…but Kendrick’s leftovers are even better. We’ll hear from these two guys again.

198. “When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?”, Billie Eilish, 2019

New Kanye’s influence can be heard on Eilish’s delicious debut, whose experiments with bass and industrial sounds make it sound thoroughly modern. Eilish had just turned eight when this decade began; by its end, she’s a pop icon.

197. “Everything’s Fine”, Jean Grae & Quelle Chris, 2018

Lyrically, there may be no better record of the social degradation America experienced in the 2010s than “Everything’s Fine”, the rare album that laments the horrific nation we’ve become without injecting the occasional sign of hope.

196. “Midwest Farmer’s Daughter”, Margo Price, 2016

Things weren’t all roses for midwestern white folks in the 2010s either. Price brings the struggles of rural America to life with great clarity on her debut, one of five country albums on this list.

195. “Lost in a Dream”, The War On Drugs, 2014

Adding synths and ambient touches to a ’70s rock foundation won The War On Drugs much acclaim. If I could stay engaged for the full hour, this might be 100 spots higher.

194. “Undun”, The Roots, 2011

One of the era’s great hip-hop groups takes a stab at a rock opera and delivers a document lush with strings and heavy with grief.

193. “Salad Days”, Mac DeMarco, 2014
Canada’s answer to Kurt Vile seems content to stay in his room for the day, wearing the jeans he slept in and twirling slacker tunes on his guitar.

192. “It’s Album Time”, Todd Terje, 2014

Few artists have the depth of talents to recreate Stevie Wonder’s “Songs in the Key of Life”. This album hints that Terje might be one of the few.

191. “After”, Lady Lamb, 2015

The only artist from Maine on the list, Aly Spaltro delivers a mammoth sophomore album, each of its 12 tracks dense with layers of live and synthetic instruments, stops and starts, and keep-you-on-your-toes theatrics.

190. “Silences”, Adia Victoria, 2019

I’ve heard this referred to as a blues-rock album, and I suppose that’s not wrong, but there’s a sultry R&B element and a healthy chunk of indie pop in there too.

189. “Loud City Song”, Julia Holter, 2013

Holter’s sonic experiments deliver just enough hooks to qualify as pop and enough individualism to qualify as art.

188. “Songs of Praise”, Shame, 2018

Heavy and loud, but deliberate in its fury and venom.

187. “Past Life”, Lost in the Trees, 2014

No Lost in the Trees album is a joyride, but there’s a certain cathartic pleasure that comes from Ari Picker’s plaintive wail.

186. “Black Origami”, Jlin, 2017

It’s hard to stay on top of every subgenre, so I can’t compare this to other monsters of footwork, but it’s uniquely compelling, at least among the 1,400-or-so new albums I listened to this decade.

185. “Ten Love Songs”, Susanne Sundfor, 2015

A work of ambition and grandeur far in excess of its humble title.

184. “Anna Calvi”, Anna Calvi, 2011

Calvi’s symphonic brand of goth-pop was fresh in 2011 and doesn’t have many imitators today.

183. “Queen of Denmark”, John Grant, 2010

Grant’s is a comedy act first and foremost, but his soothing voice and genuine knack for rich arrangements couch the jokes in such a sophisticated package that you might mistake him for Harry Nilsson if you’re not listening closely.

182. “Love This Giant”, David Byrne & St. Vincent, 2012

A once-in-a-lifetime collaboration between two artists cut from the same cloth in different generations, this one both delivers a thrilling ride and leaves the listener believing it could have been better.

181. “Heartland”, Owen Pallett, 2010

Pallett’s first album after ditching the Final Fantasy moniker is a string-driven nod to classical music written for a rock audience.

180. “At Least For Now”, Benjamin Clementine, 2015

This British singer’s debut sits squarely outside the range of genres I can identify, but it’s aesthetically pleasing in a challenging way.

179. “Utopia Defeated”, D.D Dumbo, 2014

This one seemed to fly under the radar despite its radio-friendly aesthetic. In 1990, it would have been all over the adult contemporary dial.

178. “No Poison No Paradise”, Black Milk, 2013

It’s ostensibly a hip-hop album, but it’s the jazzy instrumentation that makes it great.

177. “Overgrown”, James Blake, 2013

Of Blake’s four critically-acclaimed works of textural experiment this decade, “Overgrown” is the one most full of substance- the most musical.

176. “Ruins”, Grouper, 2014

A piano and a distant voice; a trip to a serene pond deep in the woods or a rural porch swing on a fall morning.

175. “Rocket”, (Sandy) Alex G, 2017

These melodies sound distant and somehow fractured, but they’re warm and instantly familiar.

174. “Plastic Beach”, Gorillaz, 2010

This one feels older than the 2010s, both because it came at the end of a run of three great Gorillaz albums and because it features guest spots from older (Snoop Dogg, Mos Def) and olderer (Lou Reed, members of The Fall and The Clash) musicians.

173. “Pony”, Orville Peck, 2019

A mysterious masked man escorts us to the wild west with his Roy-Orbison croon.

172. “Sylvan Esso”, Sylvan Esso, 2014

This might be the most millennial album of the decade. It’s fiercely independent, artistic, and pop-adjacent without sounding like mainstream radio.

171. “TA13OO”, Denzel Curry, 2018

Trap is not my subgenre of choice, but this is either the best album the art form has produced or a record that transcends (sub)genre.

170. “IV”, Badbadnotgood, 2016

A very 2010s jazz album, the band’s lounge act is accented by guest spots from singers, rappers, and musicians of all stripes.

169. “MCII”, Mikal Cronin, 2013

The middle of a run of three self-titled albums, this one best brings Cronin’s Byrds jangle to life.

168. “Weather”, Me’shell Ndegeocello, 2011

The rare bassist-as-bandleader, Ndegeocello surrounds herself with talented players, producers, and songwriters, but it’s her own bass and voice that make “Weather” great.

167. “True Love Cast Out All Evil”, Roky Erickson & Okkervil River, 2010

It’s a miracle this collaboration even happened, given Erickson’s tumultuous biography, let alone that the music is great.

166. “Light Upon the Lake”, Whitney, 2016

If Belle and Sebastian wrote The Allman Brothers’ songs, they might have sounded like this.

165. “Our House on the Hill”, The Babies, 2012

It’s light as air, moves quickly, and leaves you wanting more.

164. “Crushing”, Julia Jacklin, 2019

The best Angel Olsen impression I’ve heard; Jacklin has enough to say to justify veering so close to her primary influence.

163. “My Finest Work Yet”, Andrew Bird, 2019

It’s not his finest work yet, but it’s proof that, more than two decades post-Squirrel Nut Zippers and Bowl of Fire, Bird is still making captivating and relevant music.

162. “Holy Fire”, Foals, 2013

Foals have stuck to their strengths- blending electronics and live instrumentation to create nervous tension- throughout their career. This is the peak of said career.

161. “Up to Anything”, The Goon Sax, 2016

While the Americans and Brits worried about racist immigration policies and entrenched sexism, these Australians sang about home haircuts and wearing a blue shirt to Target.

160. “I Speak Because I Can”, Laura Marling, 2010

This was the beginning of Laura Marling’s prolific and consistent 2010s run and not the last you’ll hear from her on this list.

159. “Swim”, Caribou, 2010

Dan Snaith’s liveliest album is his best released under the Caribou moniker.

158. “Helplessness Blues”, Fleet Foxes, 2011

It takes a few listens to exorcise the specter of the band’s iconic and inimitable debut, but taken on its own merits, the sophomore album is a strong piece of pastoral folk-rock.

157. “Black Hours”, Hamilton Leithauser, 2014

“Heaven” ended an incredible run of strong Walkmen albums in 2012, but former frontman Leithauser wasn’t going to leave fans hanging, dropping a solo debut worthy of the group two years later.

156. “No Cities To Love”, Sleater-Kinney, 2015

The passion, the fury, the noise- it’s almost as if Sleater-Kinney never went away.

155. “Con Todo El Mundo”, Khruangbin, 2018

The best guitar-driven jazz-funk record of the decade. Infectious from start to finish.

154. “Smoke Ring for My Halo”, Kurt Vile, 2011

Mostly anonymous at the beginning of the decade, Vile stands now as a slacker-rock icon. This is the most deliciously defiant of his many deft and often funny guitar jam sessions this decade.

153. “Everybody Works”, Jay Som, 2017

Melina Duterte’s full-length debut is loaded with rich arrangements and warm, inviting music.

152. “Innerspeaker”, Tame Impala, 2010

It didn’t garner the acclaim of the superior “Lonerism” or the inferior “Currents”, but Tame Impala arrived on the scene fully formed with “Innerspeaker”.

151. “Piñata”, Freddie Gibbs & Madlib, 2014

There’s a lot of progressive hip-hop on this list, but now and then, a ’90s-style drug hustle record scratches a certain itch.

150. “Your Queen is a Reptile”, Sons of Kemet, 2018

An exuberant jazz album paying tribute to nine women worthy of reverence.

149. “Singing Saw”, Kevin Morby, 2016

At its heart, “Singing Saw” is a folk album, but it’s at its best when the band stretches out and rocks harder.

148. “Any Human Friend”, Marika Hackman, 2019

Hackman uses humor- mostly of the self-deprecating variety- to bring otherwise-tense topics to life. This album doubles down on past themes of intimacy- with friends, lovers, and, particularly on the titillating “Hand Solo”, herself.

147. “Human Performance”, Parquet Courts, 2016

Parquet Courts never veer too far from the ’90s-alternative-with-modern-paranoia sound that won them a following, but each successive album seems to ask a little more of the players and sounds a little bigger as a result.

146. “Bend Beyond”, Woods, 2012

Including collaborations, Woods released nine albums between 2009 and 2018. This is the sunniest and most likely to leave you smiling.

145. “Cape Dory”, Tennis, 2011

Yacht rock for a new generation, Tennis makes pleasant melodies to be enjoyed with a poolside cocktail.

144. “You’re Dead”, Flying Lotus, 2014

It’s jazz. It’s hip-hop. It’s textural experimentation. It’s a one-of-a-kind experience.

143. “Remind Me Tomorrow”, Sharon Van Etten, 2019

Van Etten and Angel Olsen each released highly anticipated albums in 2019. Each ranks third on this list among the artist’s respective catalogue, with the prior album in the top 30 and the one before that a few spots ahead of the new one.

142. “Flower Boy”, Tyler, the Creator, 2017

There’s a swagger to Tyler’s baritone that stands in sharp contrast to the vulnerability of his lyrics.

141. “Epic”, Sharon Van Etten, 2010

Its only flaw, perhaps, is that it isn’t epic. Van Etten draws you in with jarringly intimate lyrics and leaves you wanting so much more after seven brilliant tracks.

140. “Heaven”, The Walkmen, 2012

The final Walkmen album followed the formula that made them one of the great rock bands of the prior decade.

139. “Metamodern Sounds in Country Music”, Sturgill Simpson, 2014

Simpson has since crossed over and maybe even left country behind, but his last unabashed country album was a massive statement. There’s a note at the end of “The Promise” that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up every time.

138. “Semper Femina”, Laura Marling, 2017

If this generation has a Joni Mitchell, it’s Marling, who dropped five great albums this decade, finishing with perhaps her richest work.

137. “Miss Universe”, Nilufer Yanya, 2019

A fresh voice with a sound not too far removed from radio pop, but different enough to stand out.

136. “Too Bright”, Perfume Genius, 2014

The 2010s represented a revolution in the public perception of LGBT culture. “Too Bright” shines light on the dark and celebrates what light is now shining.

135. “All Mirrors”, Angel Olsen, 2019

Olsen can’t quite match Marling in volume of great albums, but with each successive masterpiece, she’s built a reputation as one of the era’s great songwriters and performers.

134. “Visions”, Grimes, 2012

Claire Boucher’s pop-adjacent electronic experiments sounded revolutionary in 2012. Today, they sound like a blueprint for much of what followed.

133. “Stranger in the Alps”, Phoebe Bridgers, 2017

Bridgers speaks loudly while barely raising her voice above a whisper or her music above 60 beats per minute.

132. “In Conflict”, Owen Pallett, 2014

Pallett’s second straight triumph delivers some of the richest instrumentation of the decade.

131. “Visions of a Life”, Wolf Alice, 2017

This one combines ’70s punk attitude, ’80s synths, and ’90s atmospheric production.

130. “Two Hands”, Big Thief, 2019

This album is a study in whether the strength of one song can actually be a liability to the album that houses it. “Not” is certainly the most perfect song released this year, probably the best this decade, and possibly the high mark for this young century. Knowing it’s coming affects the way the listener hears everything before and after it. I can’t hear the opening chords of “Shoulders” without tightening up a bit in anticipation of the experience due three minutes later. Once “Not” is over, it’s hard to process anything without wishing I were still in the grasp of that song’s brilliance.

129. “Cuz I Love You”, Lizzo, 2019

If a listen to “Cuz I Love You” doesn’t fill you with joy, energy, and empowerment, I don’t think I want to know you.

128. “Case/Lang/Viers”, 2016

Neko Case, kd Lang, and Laura Viers coalesce beautifully on the rare collaboration album that sounds better than most of the individual artists’ solo work.

127. “Process”, Sampha, 2017

A heartbreaking document of grief, driven by a piano and a singer likely to make quite a mark on R&B in the 2020s.

126. “The Hex”, Richard Swift, 2018

The fingerprints of the ’60s- from Love to the Supremes- are all over this one, but its greatest attribute may be its mimicry of Grizzly Bear.

125. “Cocoa Sugar”, Young Fathers, 2018

The third full-length from this hip-hop group is one is every bit as delicious as it sounds.

124. “Before Today”, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, 2010

The modern king of weird draws listeners into his madness with more hooks on “Before Today” than on most of his other work.

123. “Historian”, Lucy Dacus, 2018

Opener “Night Shift” alone is worth the price of admission, but Dacus’s confessional songwriting and occasional bursts of guitar complete the album.

122. “Yuck”, Yuck, 2011

The most enjoyable piece of ’90s nostalgia created this decade.

121. “Room 25”, Noname, 2018

A master storyteller, Noname blows through 11 deft raps in 35 minutes, leaving listeners craving her next release.

120. “Like Clockwork”, Queens of the Stone Age, 2013

So many critics and publications compiling their decade-end lists seem to forget that QOTSA put out two albums this decade, at least one of which was as good as their more acclaimed work from a decade earlier.

119. “Brill Bruisers”, The New Pornographers, 2014

By this time, The New Pornographers were the undisputed champions of power pop. This one doesn’t tread much new ground, but it sounds as great as their earlier work.

118. “Legacy! Legacy!”, Jamila Woods, 2019

Woods is emerging as one of the great songwriters and performers in R&B, her grand ambitions fully justified on her second album.

117. “A Church That Fits Our Needs”, Lost in the Trees, 2012

A heartbreaking meditation on this loss of frontman Ari Picker’s mother, this one’s worthy of a symphony hall.

116. “Primrose Green”, Ryley Walker, 2015

To call this Van Morrison for the 21st century would be reductive, but neither altogether inaccurate nor insulting.

115. “Architect”, C Duncan, 2015

An enrapturing dreamscape, slightly more jagged than Beach House, but softer than M83.

114. “Blunderbuss”, Jack White, 2012

As a songwriter, a musician, and a producer, Jack White has left an indelible mark on the industry over the past two plus decades. He was still going strong in the 2010s.

113. “Cerulean Salt”, Waxahatchee, 2013

This list almost certainly sells Waxahatchee short, but her output is so consistently strong that it’s hard for a single record to stand out.

112. “Big Fish Theory”, Vince Staples, 2017

The production is as creative and fresh as the lyrics are insightful and incisive.

111. “The Underside of Power”, Algiers, 2017

A relentless sonic assault on society’s ills.

110. “Old”, Danny Brown, 2013

Throughout Danny Brown’s career, he’s cycled through different voices, styles, and balances between original composition and borrowed themes. The one constant in his music is its ability to entertain with skill and shock value.

109. “Sleeping Through the War”, All Them Witches, 2017

Just an epic display of musical talent. Heavy, but measured.

108. “Shriek”, Wye Oak, 2014

It may lack the driving force of its predecessor, but Wye Oak 2.0 explore new, often softer, textures, and produce another winner.

107. “Burn Your Fire For No Witness”, Angel Olsen, 2014

Olsen’s breakout album is sandwiched between the two highly-anticipated masterpieces that reached a broader audience thanks to “Burn Your Fire’s” greatness.

106. “Painted Shut”, Hop Along, 2015

Frances Quinlan’s voice may be an acquired taste, but it’s a perfect fit for Hop Along’s jagged, sprawling punk-rock.

105. “El Camino”, The Black Keys, 2011

Call it a retread of its predecessor, but The Black Keys are really good at being The Black Keys.

104. “Wolfroy Goes to Town”, Bonnie “Prince” Billy, 2011

Will Oldham is a savant by any name and in any decade. His best 2010s work showcases both his knack for delicate melodies and his down-home country charm.

103. “Purple Mountains”, Purple Mountains, 2019

David Berman left us with one final document of the torture that is seeing the world with such brutal clarity.

102. “Black Messiah”, D’Angelo, 2014

Once a decade, D’Angelo graces us with a glorious record of sexy, funky soul music to keep us warm until the next decade.

101. “Shields”, Grizzly Bear, 2012

Perhaps not the earth-shattering revolution a 2000s Grizzly Bear album tended to be, “Shields” is a fine work of art-rock in its own right.

100. “R.A.P. Music”, Killer Mike, 2012

Consider this Run the Jewels 0, the first collaboration between Mike and producer El-P. It’s lyrically ambitious, deftly rapped, and produced somehow like a throwback and an album from the future at once.

99. “A Moon Shaped Pool”, Radiohead, 2016

The best band in the game release an album of leftovers, sequenced alphabetically. Why? Because they can.

98. “The Idler Wheel…” Fiona Apple, 2012

I left this one out of the book, presumably because I held it up against Apple’s prior work and felt it didn’t measure up. Compared to the field of 2010s art-rock, this is a worthy competitor, starting and closing with cinematic epics that would be classics in any era.

97. “Bloom”, Beach House, 2012

Beach House don’t veer far from the formula that drove their 2010 breakout, and they deliver another captivating soundscape.

96. “Space is Only Noise”, Nicoals Jaar, 2011

Forty-five minutes of samples. No genre; no boundaries.

95. “Heal”, Strand of Oaks”, 2014

A rock album heavily influenced by the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s, this one feels delightfully out of place in the ’10s.

94. “Be the Cowboy”, Mitski, 2018

Few songwriters, if any, portray the second half of the 2010s as acutely- or as hauntingly- as Mitski.

93. “New Bermuda”, Deafheaven, 2015

Deafheaven are one of just two artists to land three different albums in my top 100. Even the weakest of the three is a stunning feast for the ears.

92. “Adore Life”, Savages, 2016

Siouxsie and the Banshees meet Sleater-Kinney and there are no more rules.

91. “Surf”, Donnie Trumpet & the Social Experiment

Chance the Rapper’s best album this decade is the one full of exuberant brass and unadulterated joy.

90. “With Light and Love”, Woods, 2014

A prolific and consistent soft rock band, Woods peaked with this release, especially its divine first half.

89. “Lousy With Sylvianbriar”, Of Montreal, 2013

Only Kevin Barnes can sing such densely esoteric lyrics over such an otherwise-radio-friendly pop record and keep selling records for twenty years.

88. “A Creature I Do Not Know”, Laura Marling, 2011

Here she is again with her liveliest- and best- album yet.

87. “Future Me Hates Me”, The Beths, 2018

Throwback punk-pop like this rarely gets noticed by critics, but in terms of pure enjoyment, there weren’t many records this good released in the past decade.

86. “Bon Iver, Bon Iver”, Bon Iver, 2011

Rarely does a sophomore album feel as doomed by its predecessor as this one did, but Justin Vernon was able to strike a balance between the pastoral feel of the debut and a desire to expand his musical palette.

85. “Run the Jewels 2”, Run the Jewels, 2014

The most essential rap duo of the post-OutKast era, Killer Mike and El-P trade some of that group’s playfulness for intensity.

84. “Random Access Memories”, Daft Punk, 2013

Ironically, or perhaps predictably, it’s the album made by the faceless robots that seems most dated six years after its release, but great albums often come with a timestamp, and this one justified its ubiquity in 2013.

83. “Psychodrama”, Dave, 2019

This is not the Dave you listened to with your bros and your Natty Ice in the ’90s. British rapper David Omoregie tackles domestic abuse, racial injustice, and criminal “justice” in his epic debut.

82. “American Dream”, LCD Soundsystem, 2017

James Murphy is the voice of the urban millennial, a demographic that may not have known how much they needed a comeback album from LCD Soundsystem in 2017. As always, they delivered.

81. “Blackstar”, David Bowie, 2016

Bowie left us with one more exotic, unique, thoroughly unexpected work.

80. “Malibu”, Anderson .Paak, 2016

The second in a series that’s so far taken Paak up the coast from Venice to Ventura, this is the hip-hop album Stevie Wonder would have made.

79. “Foil Deer”, Speedy Ortiz, 2015

Nineties alternative with sharper angles.

78. “Guppy”, Charly Bliss, 2017

Just an impossibly enjoyable pop-punk record.

77. “We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace and Magic”, Foxygen, 2013

The ’60s are largely out of fashion in today’s music, but The Byrds and Bob Dylan show up all over Foxygen’s best release.

76. “Infinite Worlds”, Vagabon, 2017

So many acclaimed albums pour an artist’s ambitions all over the canvass, sacrificing tightness and consistency for grandeur and completeness. I have a soft spot for albums like “Infinite Worlds” that run less than half an hour and strive for note-by-note perfection.

75. “Ecailles de Lune”, Alcest, 2010

The French dream metal act score the highest-rated foreign language album on the list, but not the highest-rated album by a French group.

74. “The Order of Time”, Valerie June, 2017

Appalachian folk with soul to spare.

73. “A Seat at the Table”, Solange, 2016

Solange exposes the trials and tribulations of growing up black in today’s America with grace and clarity.

72. “Halo”, Juana Molina, 2017

I can’t identify a genre- or a single lyric- but the music is enrapturing.

71. “Titanic Rising”, Weyes Blood, 2019

The first half of this one soars like it might never come down. The second half is more contemplative, beautiful in a quieter way.

70. “Ordinary Corrupt Human Love”, Deafheaven, 2018

It’s hard to describe any blackgaze record as “accessible”, but if a Deafheaven album were ever to appeal to a radio listener, this would be the one.

69. “Love and Hate”, Michael Kiwanuka, 2016

This one felt mighty ambitious until its follow-up was released this November. Now the predecessor just sounds silky smooth.

68. “Sunbathing Animal”, Parquet Courts, 2014

It’s reductive to call Parquet Courts a jam band, but they’re at their best when they stretch songs out with instrumental codas.

67. “Puberty 2”, Mitski, 2016

Mitski emerged late in this decade as one of the most adept and incisive voices of her generation. Here’s guessing she shows up on a few best-albums-of-the-2020s lists too.

66. “More Than Any Other Day”, Ought, 2014

Jerky post-punk for restless times.

65. “Art Angels”, Grimes, 2015

It’s more artistic than angelic, but Grimes builds her sound experiments from Madonna’s pop template, creating ear candy out of salt and vinegar.

64. “Sun Structures”, Temples, 2014

Just a baggage-free psychedelic rock album to beautify an hour of your life.

63. “New View”, Eleanor Friedberger, 2016

The queen of weird tries a straightforward pop-rock album and succeeds, in my opinion, beyond anything in the Fiery Furnaces’ catalog.

62. “Isolation”, Kali Uchis, 2018

It’s R&B at its core, but “Isolation” cycles through genres and A-list contributors at a dizzying rate.

61. “Negative Capability”, Marianne Faithfull, 2018

At 71, Faithfull’s always-gravelly voice is full of agony, but also of wisdom and, somewhere deep within, hope. This mix of originals and covers is perfectly rendered to fit that distinctive voice.

60. “Transgender Dysphoria Blues”, Against Me!, 2014

The first Against Me! album recorded after Laura Jane Grace went public about her transition is an unmitigated triumph- a battle cry for the oppressed and a celebration of living one’s truth out loud.

59. “Dogrel”, Fontaines D.C., 2019

These Irish punks blend power and vulnerability over 11 mesmerizing tracks.

58. “Hadestown”, Anais Mitchell, 2010

This rock opera is a hell of a ride, with Ani DiFranco, Justin Vernon, and Greg Brown lending fantastic vocal support.

57. “St. Vincent”, St. Vincent, 2014

What did music sound like in the 2010s? At its best, it sounded like whatever Annie Clark was recording. This is her most daring, but also most consistent, record of the decade.

56. “Dirty Computer”, Janelle Monae, 2018

Three albums into her career, Monae had even more to say, even more A-list collaborators on her side, and the vitriol and grace to make the most fun “we’re all doomed” album yet.

55. “An Awesome Wave”, Alt-J, 2012

Children’s book chants over video game sounds. Awesome indeed.

54. “Attack on Memory”, Cloud Nothings, 2012

A relentless metal album with ’90s flavor.

53. “w h o k i l l”, tUnE-yArDs, 2011

This is the album Captain Beefheart would have made if he wanted to sell out arenas.

52. “Eve”, Rapsody, 2019

Sixteen odes to inspiring women of color, from Maya Angelou and her caged bird to Ibtihaj Muhammad and her liquid swords.

51. “Same Trailer, Different Park”, Kacey Musgraves, 2013

Her songwriting has added depth with subsequent releases, but this was the album that introduced us to the progressive, socially conscious young country singer using her platform for good when America needed it most.

50. “Something More Than Free”, Jason Isbell, 2015

Speaking of progressive country, I’m not sure there was a more beautiful 21 minutes of music recorded this past decade than the first side of “Something More Than Free”.

49. “Kiwanuka”, Michael Kiwanuka, 2019

Not since Marvin Gaye has an R&B singer sounded so world-weary while presiding over such deliciously funky drum-and-bass.

48. “This is Happening”, LCD Soundsystem, 2010

Ten of the top 50 came out in 2010. That may be influenced by the time these records have had to sink in and add the flavor of nostalgia, but next to 2016, I genuinely believe 2010 was the best music year of the decade.

47. “Damn”, Kendrick Lamar, 2017

This guy had a pretty good decade.

46. “Lemonade”, Beyoncé, 2016

As iconic an entry in the pop culture canon as anything released this decade. Beyoncé’s been wronged, she’s getting what’s hers, and she’s taking us all along for the ride.

45. “Modern Vampires of the City”, Vampire Weekend, 2013

Vampire Weekend have been impressively consistent over their four-album career, but “Modern Vampires” is the best balance between ambition and formula.

44. “Break It Yourself”, Andrew Bird, 2012

The greatest active musician’s last proper album before a series of ambient experiments, this one is loaded with as much ear candy as any Andrew Bird album.

43. “Sunbather”, Deafheaven, 2013

I’m not convinced that “Sunbather” is better than the two records that succeeded it, but hearing the juxtaposition of screamed vocals over angelic melodies for the first time is powerful enough to place it ahead of both.

42. “Grey Area”, Little Simz, 2019

Talent alone, whether vocal or instrumental, doesn’t make an artist or her music great, but when the writing serves to build the case that the artist might be the best in the game, as “Grey Area” does for Little Simz’s case, the listener is in for a rare treat.

41. “Lonerism”, Tame Impala, 2012

This is the album Moby Grape or The 13th Floor Elevators would have made if they had the technology. A psychedelic masterpiece.

40. “How I Got Over”, The Roots, 2010

The second half may not measure up, but the first half of “How I Got Over” is The Roots and a legion of guest stars all at the top of their games, making rap accessible to fans of many genres.

39. “Let Them Eat Chaos”, Kate Tempest, 2016

Much of the horror America was living with in 2016 was felt in equal measure on the other side of the pond. One of Britain’s great poets, Kate Tempest, documented that horror with great clarity and production worthy of the poetry.

38. “We Got It From Here… Thank You 4 Your Service”, A Tribe Called Quest, 2016

It was surprising enough to learn that Tribe was working on a comeback album after Phife Dawg’s death that fans would have gladly settled for a nostalgia piece stuck in 1991. Instead, we got the first major document of The Resistance to the coming Trump presidency.

37. “Boys and Girls”, Alabama Shakes, 2012

A fully-formed debut record from a group straight outta 1971.

36. “You Want it Darker”, Leonard Cohen, 2016

Three albums ranked higher on the list explore the deaths of the musicians’ loved ones. This one contemplates the impending death of the artist himself.

35. “Skeleton Tree”, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, 2016

Cave’s rumination on the death of his teenage son will leave you scarred, but believing in the power of music in the most dire of times.

34. “Strange Mercy”, St. Vincent, 2011

I published a first version of this post that neglected this album. Several listens later, I’m convinced that this is as dynamic and edgy as anything Annie Clark has recorded.

33. “The Epic”, Kamasi Washington, 2015

A great jazz album in the 21st century? It happened, and it’s glorious. And at three hours long, it might be the only traditional jazz album you need to get you through the next decade.

32. “Daytona”, Pusha T, 2018

The antidote to the behemoths ranked above and below it. In barely over 20 minutes, Pusha reminds us he’s still among the greatest emcees while Kanye provides the best production he’s ever had behind him. Of the many bite-sized albums custom fit for the 2018 attention span, this one’s the best.

31. “Have One on Me”, Joanna Newsom, 2010

Three discs of folk-rock and classical harp, this is the only album in my top 200 that’s not available on Spotify. It makes me wonder if I missed anything this good later in the decade.

30. “Brothers”, The Black Keys, 2010

A classic rock album for the 21st century, “Brothers” drips with confidence and power.

29. “Coin Coin Chapter One: Gens de Couleur Libres”, Matana Roberts, 2011

A celebration of free people of color demands an exploration of slavery. The first chapter in Roberts’ “Coin Coin” series is not an easy listen, but it’s an enormously rewarding amalgamation of jazz, spoken word, and interpretive sonic experimentation.

28. “The King is Dead”, The Decemberists, 2011

Most of the albums on this list broke new ground or blended genres or shined light upon a timely theme. This one’s just a pop-folk album full of earworms that would have been hits in any decade.

27. “Silence Yourself”, Savages, 2013

So much of this decade’s music was fueled by righteous anger, but no one does righteous anger better than Jehnny Beth and Savages.

26. “Are We There”, Sharon Van Etten, 2014

Sharon Van Etten may be the best confessional singer-songwriter of this era. This is the best of her many great records this decade.

25. “I Love You, Honeybear”, Father John Misty, 2015

The funniest album of the decade is scathing and sweet, often in the same verse.

24. “Carrie and Lowell”, Sufjan Stevens, 2015

The best Sufjan Stevens album since he aborted the fifty states project, this one uses his stunning gift for arrangement to mourn his late parents.

23. “Melodrama”, Lorde, 2017

Perhaps the most radio-friendly pop album on this list, it’s also a deliciously modern take on the breakup album.

22. “Joy As an Act of Resistance”, Idles, 2018

If Black Flag wrote about toxic masculinity instead of TV parties, they might have sounded like this.

21. “Let England Shake”, P.J. Harvey, 2011

Two decades into her illustrious career and a decade after a masterpiece concept album about New York, Harvey turns her sights to her homeland and delivers her most scathing- and most listenable- album yet.

20. “A Crow Looked At Me”, Mount Eerie, 2017

Sufjan’s rumination on death is beautiful in its heartbreak. Phil Elverum’s is stark, stunningly intimate, and breathtakingly honest. It’s hardly music, but it’s certainly art.

19. “Sometimes I Sit and Think; Sometimes I Just Sit”, Courtney Barnett, 2015

She’s astute, she’s hilarious, and she can absolutely shred. A wholly unexpected debut from a budding icon.

18. “Teen Dream”, Beach House, 2010

Dream pop existed before this album, but this will be the standard for the genre for decades to come.

17. “In a Poem Unlimited”, U.S. Girls, 2018

Meg Remy’s silky-smooth blend of traditional rock instrumentation and futuristic synths is perfect from start to finish.

16. “The Suburbs”, Arcade Fire, 2010

The last great album from the best band of the first decade of the 21st century, this one strikes a balance between the weariness of “Funeral” and the bombast of “Neon Bible”.

15. “Schlagenheim”, Black Midi, 2019

This year’s weirdest album brings King Crimson and The Fall back to life decades later, breaking all the rules in a successful effort to discover a new art form.

14. “The ArchAndroid”, Janelle Monae, 2010

The best debut album of the decade is a sprawling, ambitious joyride that dips its toes in just about every genre.

13. “Channel Orange”, Frank Ocean, 2012

The defining statement from a thoroughly modern artist.

12. “High Violet”, The National, 2010

A strong competitor for the title of best band of the 21st century, The National peaked as this decade dawned, penning 11 iconic indie rock songs.

11. “A Sailor’s Guide to Earth”, Sturgill Simpson, 2016

Of the handful of artists that convinced me of the merits of country music in the 2010s, this open letter to Simpson’s unborn son blows away the field.

10. “My Woman”, Angel Olsen, 2016

Three straight Angel Olsen classics make the list. The middle one grows her band from a three-piece to a six piece (less than half the size of the outfit that recorded the follow-up), but the focus remains on Olsen’s intimate songwriting and guitar virtuosity.

9. “Teens of Denial”, Car Seat Headrest, 2016

A break from the hell of the political landscape in 2016, Will Toledo instead laments the hell of high school in 2016- or any year.

8. “Halcyon Digest”, Deerhunter, 2010

This album is informed as much by The Everly Brothers and The Shirelles as by My Bloody Valentine and Animal Collective. It sounds like it was written in the ’50s and recorded in the future.

7. “Muchacho”, Phosphorescent, 2013

It’s a little bit country, a little bit rock and roll, and a lot of sweet melodies giving way to deft instrumentation.

6. “The Navigator”, Hurray for the Riff Raff, 2017

The Puerto Rican experience in America in 40 glorious minutes.

5. “Norman Fucking Rockwell”, Lana Del Rey, 2019

This year’s best is an instant classic, awash in Southern California glow but darkened by 2019 America.

4. “Civilian”, Wye Oak, 2011

The decade’s best rock album is a study in atmospherics and the limits of a two-person band (there may not be limits in this case), best experienced in a dark room.

3. “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy”, Kanye West, 2010

The first half is peak Kanye- every trick in the book thrown at a handful of pop-rap classics. The second half is the birth of New Kanye, an artist whose brilliance is outshone only by his ego and his ambition.

2. “To Pimp a Butterfly”, Kendrick Lamar, 2015

A staggering opus on race and class in America, exploring racism’s roots, victims, present, and future.

1. “Good Kid, m.A.A.D. City”, Kendrick Lamar, 2012

That’s right. The same guy recorded the two best albums of the decade. That’s 147 minutes of mind-blowing genius, all recorded before the one for which he won a Pulitzer. Where “Butterfly” meanders through topics and styles, “Good Kid” is focused, or at least as focused as Kendrick’s kitchen-sink production approach allows him to be, on Compton and the trials of growing up.

For those not interested in buying the book on Amazon (though you still can), it’s now available at two stores:

Print: A Bookstore (273 Congress Street, Portland, ME 04101)

Bull Moose (456 Payne Road, Scarborough, ME 04704)

Both have limited stock, so grab one before they’re gone!

A friend recently loaned me a collection of American Folk Music from the 1920s and ’30s. I’ve been slow to embrace it, mostly because the era’s recording technology leaves the sound wanting: voices are reedy, instrumentation sparse. Folk music predates recorded music. It’s been around as long as there’s been strife.

Listening to Tracy Chapman’s 1988 debut, it’s easy to be fooled into believing folk music was invented in 1988.

A cursory understanding of contemporary American history explains the folk revival of the 1960s. Folk singers not only observed, but often influenced the period in America’s centuries-long civil rights movement so productive and well-documented that only its chapter gets capital letters in Civil Rights Movement. Joan Baez and Bob Dylan helped bring others’ suffering to the public consciousness, mobilizing well-off white Americans to care about social justice.

Fifty years later, common lore tells us race relations were pretty great for a while there. Racial equality was written into law. A booming economy must have raised all boats, right? Heck, we even elected a black president. Twice! Only in the era of a President whose entire agenda is based on race and class are we reminded that we have so far to go. It’s easy to forget that, at the tail end of the Reagan years, Americans were as divided by race and class as they had been in the fifties and continue to be today.

Tracy Chapman’s debut could easily have been recorded in 2019 (or in 1929, for that matter). “Across the Lines” is a horrifying accounting of white indifference to black suffering in a post-Civil-Rights-Movement community where neighborhoods are divided along racial lines. “Behind the Wall” is a tale of domestic abuse neglected by police, witnessed by a helpless neighbor and rendered in a chilling a capella. “Why?” is either an introduction to Chapman’s ethos or a summary of the album’s themes, touching on wealth inequity, war, and domestic violence in the space of two minutes.

Folk is defined by messaging, but this is music, not just fodder for protest chants, and the album’s brilliance is as much the result of Chapman’s knack for melody as of her poetry. “Fast Car” and “Baby Can I Hold You” are both love songs colored by the despair of poverty. That may not sound like party fare, but both are earworms, with hooks so powerful that you can’t help but hear the message.

“Tracy Chapman” opens with “Talkin’ Bout a Revolution”, a plea for the poor to rise up. This clarion call for a class revolution, while informed by poverty and suffering, is more full of hope than any other point on the record. It closes with “For You”, a love song full of pain, backed only by a sparsely-plucked acoustic guitar and culminating in the whispered lament “I’m no longer the master of my emotions”. The narrator has at last found a personal connection, but has lost something of herself in exchange. This seems to be the central theme of the album. In a world in which resources are scarce, in which one fights for every advantage- every morsel- nothing comes without a cost. Through that lens, whatever costs the poor will pay in rising up, demanding equality, justice, and opportunity, are well worth the investment.

We fight on.

That’s my 314th-favorite album.

Nineteen eighty-one was a miserable year for music. The classic rock that defined the prior generation was fading fast, disco had come and gone quickly, and jazz had been quarantined to the fringe. Only seven albums from 1981 landed a spot in my top 1,000, and none made the top 250.

What great music did exist in 1981 depended upon rebellion. The Gun Club mashed up country and punk with palpable disdain for melody. King Crimson delivered a comeback album with spoken-word poetry and African rhythms. This Heat banged on everything in the studio, grunted and wailed, and sold it as music.

Among the most daring albums released in 1981- and certainly among the best- was Siouxsie and the Banshees’ “Juju”. The band had released three albums prior to this one, building off Black Sabbath’s flirtations with death and Suicide’s terrifying chaos to invent goth punk. While those albums were important- and mostly excellent- I prefer to listen to “Juju” as if it were a debut.

Opener “Spellbound” is as jangly as it is dark. “Halloween” is more campy than legitimately scary. The band create dark soundscapes throughout side A, and Siouxsie Sioux’s something-wicked delivery is iconic, but the stage is set for a pop album with dark edges.

It’s not until the growling bass of “Monitor” kicks in that it becomes clear the Banshees are inventing a genre, not just interpreting an existing one. The rest of the album is a haunted house at 3am with no exits. Demons lurk beneath the surface of “Night Shift”. “Sin in My Heart” builds from a hum to a ring to pounding tour-de-force. Closer “Voodoo Dolly” is an epic freak-out, so detached from the pop-punk at the beginning of the album that letting the beginning of the record play after it ends feels like taking a time machine to a more innocent time when so many of the world’s horrors had yet to be exposed.

In a dark year for music, the great albums seem to shine brighter. In “Juju’s” case, the darkest album casts a glorious pall over an otherwise sterile dawn. Perhaps it took a visit from death to return music to life.

That’s my 587th-favorite album.

On August 7, 2019, David Berman was found dead of an apparent suicide. In 1984, he was hospitalized for approaching perfection. In between, he released seven mostly wonderful, if never quite perfect, albums.

In an earlier iteration of For the Record, I included lots of album cover artwork- over 1,000 images. As I realized that I might be able to actually sell the book, and that doing so would require that I obtain the rights to all the artwork in the book, I scaled back. I identified a handful of albums that mean something to me personally, found the right places for their cover art in my manuscript, and started making phone calls.

It got ugly fast. It seems that most record labels have been absorbed my massive international conglomerates who require that you listen to six recordings before talking to a person who has no authority to grant any permissions and no direct line to anyone with that authority. Fill out an application, pay way too much money, and wait six weeks to life for a reply. Rinse. Repeat.

One of the albums I wanted to feature was Silver Jews’ “Bright Flight”, which holds the #238 spot. I called Drag City Records and was taken aback when a live person picked up the phone. I told Scott about the book and asked for permission to include the album cover. He said he’d talk to Mr. Berman.

Whoa. I called someone who can “talk to Mr. Berman”. Still, other record company lackeys had told me they’d get back to me, and I hadn’t heard from anyone yet. I didn’t get too excited. Until my phone rang again.

“Mr. Berman likes your book idea and says you have permission to use the artwork.”

I don’t think five people have told me they like my book idea. One person who did was David Berman. And now he’s gone.

Why profile “Tanglewood Numbers” instead of “Bright Flight” or “American Water”, both of which rank higher on the list? Twenty-one years after Mr. Berman was allegedly hospitalized for approaching perfection (that’s the first line on “American Water” opener “Random Rules”), he released perhaps his furthest-from-perfect album. And it’s awesome.

Opener “Punks in the Beerlight” signals a change in sound from prior albums. Berman’s poetry is typically wry, but the music takes you on a faster ride. The rhythm section drives hard. Guitars are layered, rather than strummed. By the time Berman tells you he “always loved you to the max”, the amps are turned up to 11.

“Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed” and “Animal Shapes” are a hootenanny. An often-depressing hootenanny. That’s the imperfect perfection of “Tanglewood Numbers”. The lyrics tread through personal struggles and existential doubts, but the music, at least for the first half, keeps chugging along, hopeful that something better lies on the other side. Carrie Berman’s saccharine backing vocals offset the vinegar in her husband’s drawl. If they’re both smiling through the pain, Carrie’s a bit more convincing.

The tempo slows on side two, but the songwriting peaks. “The Poor, the Fair and the Good” gives Carrie an opportunity to showcase her songwriting prowess. “The Farmer’s Hotel” is a delicious rural murder mystery, maybe the closest thing to an epic Berman ever wrote. The lyrics are delightfully foreboding and teeming with wit: “The old place it was vicious/wicked and pernicious/’please stay clean of that rank abattoir’/though her words alarmed me/I was stuck until morning/and in the end we must be who we are”.

One might define a perfect album as one whose musical tone matches its lyrical tone, making optimal use of the medium and transcending the power of the written word. “Tanglewood Numbers”, well, doesn’t do that. It celebrates the written word and camouflages its depression with rousing Stephen Malkmus guitars. But the Silver Jews never intended to record a perfect album. And none of their wonderfully imperfect documents so perfectly encapsulates the brilliant enigma that was David Berman like “Tanglewood Numbers”.

That’s my 533rd-favorite album.

In 1999, I had a summer job. I had a winter job too. At school, I had a meal plan and loans to defer financial concerns to the next decade plus. At home, I had very few living expenses, so I put most of my earnings into CDs. Had those CDs been certificates of deposit, I might be a wealthy man now. Alas, my investments were in Blur’s lush melancholy, Kula Shaker’s global experimentation, and Ben Folds Five’s nerdy bravado. Interest was accrued in credibility among my music geek friends.

Because of this relative financial windfall, my music collection grew more in 1999 than it ever had, and for the first time, I kept a year-end list of my favorite new albums. When the year began, I never would have guessed that it would end with Fiona Apple’s November release at the top of said list.

I wish I could say Fiona Apple didn’t fit with the artists I listened to in the ’90s because most of her songs were piano-driven or because of her showtunes-inspired flare for the dramatic. Nah. She was different because she’s a girl.

Music by women wasn’t aggressively marketed to me as a teenage boy in upstate New York and I wasn’t progressive enough to seek it out. Sure, I’d seen the “Criminal” video from Apple’s 1996 debut a thousand times on late-night MTV and, years later, broke down and bought a used copy of “Tidal”. But when my friends were caught up in Blur vs. Oasis debates and lamenting The Smashing Pumpkins trading guitars for techno, I wasn’t about to step in with a defense of Tori Amos or Björk and why their music was at least as culturally relevant as that of anyone else in this sentence.

But Fiona was different.

She was cute. And only two years older than me. That mattered in 1999. Of course, so was Natalie Imbruglia, and I wasn’t dropping $14 on her new album.

She wrote her own music and played an instrument. That was essential. I had no time for The Supremes in 1999. Then again, Lucinda Williams wrote her own songs and played a mean guitar, and I wasn’t listening to her in ’99 either.

Fiona spoke to me. Twenty years later, I still haven’t looked up the definitions of derring-do, rigadoon, or desideratum, all of which she drops in “To Your Love”, but I remain mystified by her vocabulary and her willingness to eschew the prosaic language of the pop canon for such esoterica. The way her voice flutters when she sings “and fooooor a little while” on “Fast As You Can” still makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Tidal” was good: a showcase for a young genius with a piano and an appreciation for classical music and a hint of a subversive side. “When the Pawn” is a monumental step forward. Jon Brion’s production is rich and warm and perfectly suited to Fiona’s ambition.

From the bass-heavy intro of “On the Bound”, it’s clear that Fiona has grown up and is going to take a stab at a more mature statement. By the end of “Limp”, the stunning, third track, it’s clear that she’s succeeded. She’s a woman scorned and she’s not taking any more shit. “Paper Bag” is lounge jazz with a Rodgers and Hammerstein cadence. “Fast As You Can” uses “Criminal” as a starting point, but ratchets up the intensity, highlighting the virtuoso singer, songwriter, arranger, pianist, and performer Fiona has become.

Even if the other nine tracks were throwaways, I’d’ve gotten my $14 worth and then some just for “Get Gone”. It starts with piano and voice, as soft and slow as the scene before the first murder in a horror flick. Someone’s lurking, and at the one-minute mark, the payoff: “So put away that meat you’re selling me”. This is the first of several sharpened arrows slung at a disgraced former lover. Each bridge from verse to chorus hits just as hard. The second is instrumental, Apple’s refusal to speak as damning as the scathing verse it replaces. The third time around puts the nail in the accused’s coffin. “Fucking go”.

“When the Pawn” is a work of staggering genius. Fiona Apple can write like Nabokov and play like Rachmaninov. Her music is literate and sophisticated. Also, the best line on the album is “fucking go”.

That’s my 88th-favorite album.

When I write about The Beatles or Madonna, I can launch right into my reactions to their music, leaving out an introduction to give the reader an understanding of what said music might sound like. When I review an artist with less universal renown, it’s usually easy to start with “this hip-hop classic” or “this lost psychedelic gem” to set the stage. Valerie June’s wonderful “The Order of Time” defies easy categorization, robbing me of that terse lead-in.

Valerie June comes from Tennessee, so she’s a country artist, right? Well, she records in Memphis, not Nashville, so maybe it’s the blues. When I asked my daughter what kind of music she thought we were listening to, she said “dance music”. That would rule out the blues, wouldn’t it? In this album’s closer (and perhaps its best song), June repeatedly reminds us that she’s “Got Soul”. She certainly does, and one might define her as a soul singer, but her nasal, reedy voice makes her an odd fit for that genre as well. I pressed my daughter’s “dance music” answer a little further and she decided it was jazz, which happens to be the first genre listed on the artist’s discogs.com profile. Most of these tracks contain no brass and no keys, so it’s no traditional jazz album. Allmusic.com classifies it as “pop/rock” (a copout barely worth discussing) and folk, though that site introduces Valerie June as “Memphis-based Americana singer”. Let’s use that to start our review.

Valerie June’s “The Order of Time” is a triumph of Memphis-based Americana. What is Americana? Think of your favorite country-blues-soul-jazz-pop-rock album and add a little folk. Also, you can dance to it.

Highlights on “The Order of Time” include… well, all of it. Slow-burning opener “Long Lonely Road” sets the stage for something you’ve never heard before but you direly need to hear again. “Love You Once Made” proves that a voice listeners might quickly chalk up to a liability can be a massive asset with the right songwriting (think Joanna Newsom with more Southern soul). “Shakedown” is Mississippi Fred McDowell for the 21st century. “Astral Plane” is a contemplative folk number that bursts into radio-ready pop song. “Slip Slide On By” is blues rock that would fit on “Sticky Fingers”. And “Got Soul” is a four-minute party celebrating the invention of a new genre.

How did my daughter decide she was listening to jazz while she danced to “Man Done Wrong” on our back porch? “It has words, so it can’t be ballet.”

It’s certainly not ballet.

That’s my 407th-favorite album.