Music
21 Albums That Made Us Feel Something in 2017
2017 was a disorienting year — these are the albums that moved us amidst the chaos.
On every level, 2017 was a turbulent year. Environmentally, politically, culturally and, more than anything, emotionally. But through it all music keeps us centered. It both lifts us when we're down and provides an empathetic voice when we want to stay there. To celebrate projects that make this special connection, we reached out across our Red Bull Music family and asked our team what albums, EPs and mixtapes genuinely made them feel something this year. This is a collection of albums (in no particular order) that struck a chord and made us feel in an emotionally numbing year. There's power in this music — check out what made each album special for us, listen for yourself and see what moves you.
SZA, "CTRL" (Top Dawg/RCA)
True vulnerability is frightening. Opening yourself up to another person, shedding the identity you perform for the world each day and showing your true self is bound to come with a heavy dose of anxiety. It involves giving up, well, control.
But the type of connection true vulnerability brings is liberating. SZA’s stunning “CTRL” constantly flirts with this freedom, celebrating the power of clarity, honesty, and intimacy. "Leave me lonely for prettier women / You know I need too much attention for shit like that,” she repeats on opener “Supermodel” — she’s not afraid to show her insecurities in the name of transparency. She’s not perfect, but who is?
Throughout, the instrumentation mirrors her emotional narrative. Stripped-down moments, from simple guitar changes to straightforward, skeletal hip-hop beats put SZA’s raw, honest lyrics on full display. The barebones authenticity balances out maximal moments that fill your heart to the point of bursting — the swelling, overflowing strings on “Gardens (Say It Like That)" capture the sublime feeling of the early stages of love, uncluttered by the human idiosyncrasies and flaws that inevitably creep in over time. SZA lays it all out and invites us to take the raw, thrilling, cathartic journey with her. (Alex Herrmann)
Laura Marling, "Semper Femina" (More Alarming)
One of the most magical things about living with an album is that it can surprise you later. Certain lyrics come into focus, your ranking of songs shift and, if it’s a really great album, you’ll find yourself filtering the news of the world through its lens. So it’s hard to spin through Laura Marling’s brilliant “Semper Femina” without the #MeToo movement coming to mind.
Marling’s lyrics, full of quiet strength, become even more powerful as you think about the brave women standing together and telling their stories to the world. “Next Time” becomes more of a battle cry for progress (“I don’t want to be the kind / Struck by fear to run and hide / I’ll do better next time”) while “Wild Fire”’s refrain of “Do you cry sometimes?” sits like a knife in the heart, the same way that sexual assault survivors are faced with triggering news every day for over two months.
“Semper Femina” will always be an album about the strength of female relationships, but now it’s imperative that we appreciate how resilient women truly are in the face of unthinkable evil. (Bailey Pennick)
Mount Kimbie, "Love What Survives" (Warp)
Just before the two-minute mark on this album’s second track, “Blue Train Lines,” King Krule belts out a series of harrowing screams that leaves me floored. It's a beautiful and unexpected moment of catharsis — one that I had been helplessly looking for to combat the throes of 2017 news headlines. In a year riddled with natural disasters and political buffoonery, the track lands like a sobering blast of cold air. "Love What Survives" is an album that ebbs and flows with carefully placed instrumentals that segue into collaborative highlights. Tracks like “Audition” and “Delta” tap into my love of despondent post-punk bands Joy Division and the Cure, whereas James Blake's two tracks feel like a warm blanket fresh out of the drier. For a group that spawned out of the post-dubstep wasteland, Mount Kimbie’s mature third album is one of the year’s clear highlights. (Troy Kurtz)
JAY-Z, "4:44" (Roc Nation/UMG)
Raw is a term that gets thrown around a lot, especially in the music industry. Its actual definition is “not being in polished, finished or processed form.” And while it is true that a fuzzed-out guitar solo or a demo recording does technically fall under that category as “raw,” JAY-Z’s 13th album is raw in every sense of the word.
After a handful of overwrought albums, co-headlining stadium tours and a floundering streaming service plaguing his recent history, “4:44” isn’t only a breath of fresh air, it’s the physical proof that JAY-Z is evolving as an artist and a human. Clocking in only 36 minutes, “4:44” tackles infidelity, sexual identity, systemic racism, death and poverty. And it’s not pretty. “4:44” is a murky album that cuts JAY-Z’s ego — and his high level of familial privacy — deep. His flow is stilted and full of contradictions, but he wears it like a badge of honor. He’s not finished or processed.
He’s not polished either. There are little imperfections all across “4:44” that make us lean in closer. At the top of “Moonlight,” he’s sick (“Yeah, got a lil cold, so bear with me.”). He’s working out his sound on “The Story of OJ” (“I like that second one.”). And he’s calling for more volume on “Family Feud” (“Turn my vocal up some more … turn the music up too!”). We feel connected to JAY-Z because he lets us into the recording booth with him on all these highs and lows.
All of the samples on “4:44” are understated and impactful, but JAY-Z’s honest lyricism and weathered voice is what makes it such an important and raw record. To quote the man himself on “Bam”: “Fuck all this pretty Shawn Carter shit.” (BP)
Photay, "Onism" (Astro Nautico)
Within “Onism,” Photay ignites a firework of frequencies, melodies and syncopations, but it’s the negative space throughout the outstanding electronic album that first drew me in. It’s these unexpected cells, filled with life and anticipation, that ultimately drive “Onism,” a term invented by the writer John Koenig. Koenig describes onism as the awareness of how little of the world one person will see, a “frustration of being stuck in just one body that inhabits only one place at a time.” “Onism” both elicits that emotion and transcends it, bringing back memories of experiences I never had. (Richard S. Chang)
Japanese Breakfast, "Soft Sounds From Another Planet" (Dead Oceans)
Japanese Breakfast’s sophomore album, “Soft Sounds from Another Planet” is proof that Michelle Zauner is not only a complete badass, but also has the ability to eloquently grow and adapt her sound without losing the gritty, “I made this shit myself, this is me” energy that I love so much about shoegaze indie rock. The production has matured in complexity, but her vocals still drive the ship. There’s a realness and a rawness in Zauner’s voice that makes me believe every word. “Soft Sounds” is both personal and profound in a way that doesn’t make me want to roll my eyes. It takes a different kind of human to address issues like death, self-destruction, abuse, addiction, fragility, humanity and sexuality in a way that’s expressive and emotional, but doesn’t lose relatability. Zauner is one of those humans … or maybe not, maybe she really is sending this to us from another planet. (Alex Petro)
Kelela, “Take Me Apart” (Warp)
“There’s a place you hold I left behind / I’m finished.” These are Kelela’s first words on her full-lento debut — an album that I have been eagerly waiting for since her esteemed mixtape “Cut 4 Me” dropped in 2013. She expands on the themes found in "Cut 4 Me," like love lost, the need for immediate romance and the insecurities that come during the first stages of new relationships, but the noticeable change from the past four years is Kelela’s newfound confidence in her voice. She employs many of the same producers from previous projects in Jam City and Kingdom for her more straight-forward bangers, but she leans on Björk co-collaborator Arca and The xx’s Romy Madley Croft for a multi-layered body of work that grows with each listen. Relationships probably take more work now than ever before with the perils of swiping on social media, and "Take Me Apart" provides a road map for navigating these fraught complexities. (TK)
Brockhampton, "Saturation Trilogy" (Question Everything, Inc./Empire)
Some of my favorite musical memories sit in friends’ basements, huddled in home studios, trying to figure out how to make music like our heroes. There was magic in creating with no agenda, emulating the sounds we loved and leaving with something we could wholly call our own. Brockhampton embodies that spirit. It’s DIY art in the truest sense — a boy band made up of producers, rappers, singers, graphic designers, photographers and web engineers who met through a Kanye West message board, live together and create their product fully in-house. They control their sound, their image and their message, and what they project is authentically them. Each member’s distinct sound and point of view cuts through whenever they pop up on a track. And considering their prolific output — nearly three hours of quality music and 12 innovative music videos in one calendar year — they’re primed to take over. (AH)
Four Tet, "New Energy" (Text)
Kieran Hebden’s ninth album, "New Energy," can give off the impression that it was been made by an army of harp players under the ocean, deftly weaving together delicate layers of sound carried through by a deep, powerful undercurrent. The album is ephemeral and light with airy notes drifting effortlessly through Four Tet’s dance-floor-friendly low frequencies. But it’s also evocative, in the way that your heart starts to swell at builds, drops and sparkling sitar notes — and you’re not entirely sure why. There’s something about the way the album is influenced by so many global sounds, and by Hebden’s previous work, that makes it feel hopeful. It’s like Four Tet is synthesizing his deep past — and the past, in general — in a way to lead us to a lush, expectant future, providing a much more positive feeling than much of 2017. (Emily Howell)
Kendrick Lamar, "DAMN." (Top Dawg/Aftermath/Interscope)
At the tail of 2017 it’s easy to feel like America is throttling toward its Romanesque collapse. Natural disasters ravage the landscape that long ago fueled the nation’s growth. Social, cultural and political divides are wider than ever and the presidency has become unrecognizable. Kendrick Lamar’s knockout “DAMN.” asserts that this is nothing new. Listen to the opening of “XXX,” as lighthearted synth arpeggios turn sour and warped vocals begin to slowly drown: “America, God bless you if it’s good to ya. America, please take my hand. Can you help me understand?”
Throughout “DAMN.” Lamar plays with the idea that the inequality woven inextricably into the fabric of American society is the result of a curse on his people. “Why God, why God, do I gotta suffer?” he asks on “FEAR.” (a track that still gives me goosebumps). He comes back with a catalogue of his life’s anxieties and a ghostlike 44-year-old sample: “I don’t think I could find a way to make it on this Earth.” How much has really changed since the line was sung?
What’s certain — and what Lamar is certainly well aware of — is that America's injustices are the consequences of people’s actions. “DAMN.” is a reminder that the struggle that Lamar has documented so vividly throughout his discography was fueled by greed, prejudice, ignorance and a lack of empathy.
If we are ever to move forward, we need to reflect on our own choices — “DUCKWORTH.” illustrates just how much each one matters — and adjust accordingly. Think about the way your behavior impacts others. Think about how the uncomfortable realities you may ignore can put people at an extreme disadvantage. Think about the steps you can take today to make America a better place for everyone in the future. (AH)
Lorde, "Melodrama" (Lava/Republic)
It’s been a particularly difficult year to be a woman. The first time I heard "Liability" it caught me completely by surprise and before I realized it I was crying. It’s pretty much how people have talked to me for most of my life about being too “other” from what they want or expect. It’s completely honest — and I love how she doesn’t hold back, which is what makes it timeless and relatable regardless of your age or sexuality — which is where Lorde’s talent truly lies. (Sheryl Witlen)
Ariel Pink, "Dedicated to Bobby Jameson" (Mexican Summer)
As you slide into the back half of “Dedicated to Bobby Jameson,” Ariel Pink’s 11th studio album, innocent jangling gives way to warbling on “Do Yourself a Favor.”
“Got your favorite cassette in my pocket. It’s blank. IOU.”
This album is the tape that Pink believes he owes us. Drenched in vintage synths, precocious harmonies and driving surf guitar riffs, “Dedicated to Bobby Jameson” is delightful. There’s something strangely comforting and familiar about the acid-washed-’60s-fever-dream that Pink has created in 46 minutes. Not only is it a reminder of Pink’s own experimental musical past (We see you, DâM-FunK.) and influences, “Dedicated to Bobby Jameson” is the sonic equivalent of the hazy summer days that you wished you had taken in your youth. Warm, complex and lush. (BP)
A.Chal, "On Gaz" (GAZI World)
This was a super strong follow up to A.Chal’s impressive debut "Welcome to GAZI," which dropped in 2016. These days I can rarely listen to an album front-to-back, but for whatever reason A.Chal just comes with jam after jam after jam. I dig the melodies, the production, and the relatable songwriting (no, I’m not a drug-addicted heartthrob, but I feel him when he’s talking about relationships, lust and love, you know?). I also love how he digs deeper into his heritage this time around, and incorporates more Spanish into his songs. The only skippable song IMO is the “Round Whippin” remix because it’s old. Plus, when have you ever needed French Montana on a track? (Modi Oyewole)
Sampha, "Process" (Young Turks)
When Sampha finally cracked the cocoon around his long-awaited debut “Process,” he gifted us a moving piece of confessional art. "Process" puts his interiority on full display, from the loss of his mother to anxieties around his own health, relationships and career, nestled in complementary production that vacillates between lush, driving beats and sparse piano that breathes with him. I sometimes find myself skipping the stunning “(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano” because it’s just too revealing for everyday listening, too intimate. It brings an emotional intensity that leaves me at a loss for words, like I’m standing in a receiving line at a wake stumbling through a “sorry for your loss.” Sampha lays it all out for his listener — there’s nothing hidden, no nooks and crannies to tuck insecurities and fears. They’re the focus in this visceral, moving music. (AH)
Jacques Greene, "Feel Infinite" (LuckyMe)
Simply put, “Feel Infinite” makes you want to move. But while it may be a dance and electronic album, Jacques Greene truly explores the edges of that space; you'll hear everything from pop to R&B, from slow, sultry vocals to heavy bass to (what sounds like) a rainstick. My favorite tracks — "Real Time," "You Can’t Deny" and "True" — are clearly distinct from each other. Even more than six months after its release, I still hear new things each time I listen to the album, so "Feel Infinite" becomes more and more enjoyable over time. It’s also truly a full album that sounds great top to bottom, rather than a collection of songs peppered with a few bangers. (Emily Palley-Samson)
Vince Staples, "Big Fish Theory" (ARTium/Blacksmith/Def Jam)
Vince Staples could’ve released an instrumental version of “BFT” and it would still be one of the best albums of the year. The varsity league of electronic producers he brought in for this project includes the likes of GTA, Flume, Jimmy Edgar and SOPHIE, and he completely bodies tracks that most rappers in RapCaviar would be afraid to touch. He reps his Long Beach, California, upbringing like a badge of honor through a barrage of brash and unapologetic lines, but it’s the influence of genres like London grime, Chicago footwork and Detroit techno that make this such a dynamic record. Where most rappers in 2017 were quick to chase trends, Vince swerved to push rap music in a new direction that fuses his youthful exuberance and international club culture to create an album that’s as avant-garde as it is fully banging. (TK)
Blanck Mass, "World Eater" (Sacred Bones)
“Wow, you really like Blanck Mass” -— A message from random Tinder dude who apparently noticed me dancing/headbanging/generally flipping out during Blanck Mass’s set at Basilica Soundscape, the festival in Hudson, New York.
I had listened to “World Eater” leading up to Basilica Soundscape (and even saw Blanck Mass perform the record earlier in the year), but the Basilica set was one of those times where your frame of mind and the venue and the sound and the lighting come together to be a full body-and-mind experience. I would argue that “World Eater” is a very immersive and cathartic record in any setting, but live it’s enough to make you want to climb into the speaker and let yourself be completely subsumed by the music. If you need a record that will let you take a break from yourself for 48 minutes, then try this one — with headphones better than your typical earbuds, please. (Amanda Contrada)
Hoodrich Pablo Juan, "South Dark" (Net Work/Money Power Respect)
Hoodrich Pablo Juan is likely to be the next huge rapper from Atlanta, and his recent mixtapes "South Dark" and "Designer Drugz 3" set him apart from the pack. With huge guest features from stalwarts Migos and Gucci Mane and a string of club, street and YouTube hits, radio attention can’t be far behind. "South Dark" is produced entirely by Kenny Beats, a fast-rising Atlanta producer, and is highlighted by "Do This," a track drenched with swag and lyrics that are thematically reminiscent of the funk classic "DO IT (Til' You're Satisfied)" by B.T. Express. (Sam Baum)
Phoebe Bridgers, "Stranger in the Alps" (Dead Oceans)
If I die, I want to be reincarnated as this platinum blonde singer-songwriter from LA. Phoebe Bridgers is a true writer. At 23 years old, I’m not quite sure how she seems to have fully digested her relationships and how the people, places and things in her life make her feel. And she has regurgitated all of that for our listening pleasure. Her words can only be the result of deep observation, experience and reflection of the world. “Scott Street” for example — you’re there. Or, if you’re not there, you’ve been there before.
What could have been a casual meeting of two old friends, Bridgers has crafted into an entire world full of intimate details that remind us of that past someone we catch ourselves wondering about every now and then. The album is at once young at heart and wise, thoughtful and grounded. Her voice is warm and spacious, the kind of voice that sings you back to comfort. “Stranger in the Alps” is open and hollow. The kind of sound you want to crawl inside of and start decorating with weathered wood furniture, fur rugs and autumn scented candles. It’s my go to album when my mood is something like, “Damn, this is life and sometimes it sucks and sometimes it’s beautiful as hell, so might as well live the shit out of it.” Is there a word for that? Phoebe probably has one. (AP)
Kelly Lee Owens, "Kelly Lee Owens" (Smalltown Supersound)
My favorite album of the year is Kelly Lee Owens debut, self-titled release. It glows. From the first time I heard her music to thousands of repeated listens, it always has the effervescent effect of making me feel like I am exhaling for the first time. My favorite track on the record is “Bird” which is a slow grower, similar to some of my favorite Caribou jams, but has the power to completely encompass and energize you. (SW)
Injury Reserve, "Drive It Like It's Stolen" (Las Fuegas)
This is one of those projects that’s both invigorating and depressive. It’s slow, moody, glitchy and weird, but also inspirational. Producer Parker Corey churns out beats ripped with gritty, lo-fi bass and accentuated with high frequencies that sound like everything from water droplets to excerpts from horror movie scores. Nothing seems to ascribe to any sort of traditional beat structure or rhyme scheme, but it infects your body anyway — the most unlikely of toolkits conjuring grooves that are impossible to resist. From the dark, boiling “TenTenths” to the eerie grind of “Colors," the album feels at first like the opposite of an ecstatic getaway drive — until you realize the implausibility of three dudes from Arizona putting out the most innovative, challenging rap project this year. Injury Reserve has said the music they make seeks to toe the line between experimental and accessible, and if they can pull that off this well, hell, anything is possible. (EH)
