Frank Ocean resurfaced, and the Avalanches finally returned. Here are our favorite albums of the year—the ones that helped us get through it all.
There’s no greater sense of awe and mortality in a man than witnessing the birth of his first child.
Verbose and unhinged enough to honor their emo roots, warm and shambling enough to be called “alt-country” without the authenticity hang-ups, devastating and casual at the same time—it’s a complicated set of qualities and no one could figure out exactly what to label the new sound of indie-rock centrism.
Fortunately, there’s a word for that now: s hit singles, Maren Morris sings, “I’m a ’90s baby / In my ‘80s Mercedes”—a quick clue that, despite the old-fashioned Southern revival feel of “My Church,” she’s very much a modern child.
Night becomes day, the sea becomes the sky, sepia turns Technicolor.
These are the moments that make mixes what they are, that remind you of the worth in human intellect and soul over the algorithms that assemble our playlists.
As the images show, the coloring was complex, with the chest darker than the underbelly or tail.