.jpg "The 22 Best Albums of 2023 (So Far)")
In 2023, it felt like the music world finally got back on its feet post-COVID, whether thanks to the sold-out stadium tours from blockbuster artists like Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, and Madonna, or the return of artists whose latest projects had been long-anticipated, from Lana del Rey to Olivia Rodrigo.
If there’s one common denominator among the best albums of 2023 (so far), though, it would be the lack of any common denominator. In the streaming era, the boundaries of genre have never been more porous, and the very best records this year came from artists emboldened to cut their own paths through it all—whether the Y2K-meets-Afropop of rising star Amaarae or the omnivorous tastes of breakout Latin pop sensation Karol G, which spans everything from rancheras to reggaeton.
So, whether disco or dembow, hyperpop or hardcore, these are the records that Vogue editors have had on rotation the most this year—and our pick of the best albums of 2023.
100 Gecs, 10,000 Gecs
Anyone who despairs that the TikTok era has produced nothing but nostalgia-worship in music should explore the wild, weird fields of hyperpop. You should especially crank some 100 gecs through your earbuds—and yes, I know that the glitchy, sugar-rush, auto-tuned hits on this duo’s new album 10,000 gecs are a pastiche of genres, including some old ones (power pop and alt-rock especially). But the delights of this record somehow feel utterly new. Goofy, dirty, and adrenaline-inducing, hits like “Dumbest Girl Alive,” “Hollywood Baby,” and “Doritos & Fritos” are an irresistible, noisy, clamorous good time. —Taylor Antrim
Amaarae, Fountain Baby
Amaarae’s star may have been on the rise for a few years now, but with the masterful Fountain Baby, the Ghanaian-American musician seems ready to fully embrace the spotlight. Blending head-spinningly eclectic sonic influences from her upbringing between Atlanta and Accra—a splash of Afropop here, a nod to Y2K-era bubblegum pop or ’80s Janet Jackson there, a few foot-tapping touches of dancehall in the mix—it all comes together to form a remarkably confident whole. Not least in the thrillingly unabashed sexuality that courses through tracks like “Angels in Tibet” and “Wasted Eyes,” where Amaarae’s sugary-sweet vocals serve as the perfect counterbalance to the raw carnality of her lyrics. (The Fountain Baby of the album’s title is a metaphor for the humidity levels of her lover’s nether regions, naturally.) With the impossibly catchy choruses of “Princess Going Digital” and “Sociopathic Dance Queen” and her globe-trotting, pick-and-mix approach to genre, it’s clear that Amaarae is waiting in the wings to be the next big pop star, and she knows it—now, she just needs the rest of the world to wake up and notice it too. —Liam Hess
Anohni, My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross
After making what still feels like one of the great protest records of the 21st century thus far—the fantastic and furious Hopelessness, with its thunderous percussion and blazing synths courtesy of co-producers Oneohtrix Point Never and Hudson Mohawke—“It Must Change,” Anohni’s first single from her latest album, felt like something of an about-turn. A ravishingly beautiful slice of blue-eyed soul (this time co-produced with Jimmy Hogarth, arguably best known for his work with Duffy on her debut album Rockferry), its glossy sonic trappings belied a similarly urgent message just underneath the surface. It may still be protest music, with its lyrics urging for a better, more just world, and offering a call to arms to fight back against leaders who continue to deny the climate crisis—but it’s all wrapped up in a silky-smooth package that also cleverly whispers of the very origins of protest music. —L.H.
Bully, Lucky For You
Bully—a.k.a. Alicia Bognanno and a sea of guitars, amps, and fuzz pedals—has been around for only a handful of years, but is possessed of a sound that hearkens back to a glorious alt-90s Riot Grrrl era of Hole, L7, and Veruca Salt. TLDR: If you’re enamored of Olivia Rodrigo’s recent turn toward rawk, you’ll like Lucky For You—the totemic pounding drums, the shout-it-out-loud anthemic choruses, and yeah: those guitars. Buried under all the distortion, though, is a mature, if raucous, song cycle centered around both loss and redemption—it’s a good time based on getting through some bad times, and it’s great fun. —Corey Seymour
Blonde Redhead, Sit Down for Dinner
Circa 2000, I wore a groove in my CD of Blonde Redhead’s “Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons.” Now their new album Sit Down for Dinner is on high rotation on my Spotify account. Once a dream pop fan, always a dream pop fan. —Nicole Phelps
Boygenius, The Record
From the haunting opening harmonies of “Without You Without Them,” it’s clear that Boygenius’s sophomore record, the self-referential The Record, is a pure distillation of each of its three members’ strengths. Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus, and Julien Baker leave their DNA scattered across their first full-length album, from primal screams to hymnal overtones and smart lyricism, making the album an instant top pick of 2023. —Hannah Jackson
Caroline Polachek, Desire, I Want to Turn Into You
Given she’s spent over a decade creating some of the cleverest and most charming experimental pop out there—whether as part of the underrated duo Chairlift, or with her fantastic solo debut under her own name, 2019’s Pang—it was cheering to see Caroline Polachek’s latest album, Desire, I Want to Turn Into You, receive the overwhelmingly rapturous response it deserved earlier this year. A rollercoaster ride through Polachek’s free-wheeling imagination—lyrics packed with playfulness and wry humor, songs showcasing the extraordinary rigor of her vocals and, of course, her ingenious production work with regular collaborator Danny L Harle—it felt like a bold statement of intent from a musician operating at the peak of her powers. Take album highlight “Billions,” a perfect summation of Polachek’s ability to weave together wildly disparate elements and make them sound like they always belonged together: In it, she describes a timely vision of overflowing excess and the salty taste of her lover’s skin over a fluttering tabla line, before erupting into a loopy children’s choir climax. If there’s anyone more overdue a Grammy nod this year, it would be hard to think of who. —L.H.
Chappell Roan, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess
I was introduced to Chappell Roan through a friend and was instantly obsessed with her upbeat pop sound. Sad pop has been dominating the radio waves lately, but Chappell is bringing the fun back—and her debut album does it in a distinctive, fresh way. “Red Wine Supernova” can only be described as a song that sounds like you’re floating on a cloud; “Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl” is an electro banger that’s made for strutting to work. It’s a no-skips album. —Christian Allaire
Jungle, Volcano
Clearly I am doing something wrong (or maybe very right?) when it comes to the TikTok algorithm, because I cannot open the app without encountering a new interpretation of the dance from Jungle’s “Back on 74.” The addictive, propulsive song from their 2023 album Volcano has not only set off one of the most charismatic dance trends of the year, but it’s also a softly enveloping anthem to movement and acceptance. There aren’t many lyrics that have had the same staying power for me this year as “never gonna cry again.” The visuals the group puts out—the single shot, world-building videos—are clearly a central part of their identity, but the music stands on its own as well. This is an album to move to—in whatever form that movement takes. —Chloe Schama
Karol G, Mañana Será Bonito
Karol G’s Mañana Será Bonito is a perfect summer album—or for any time you need a little bit of sunshine in your life. The Colombian superstar’s voice and delivery make you fall in love with her from the first song: whether she’s singing about falling in love herself, getting her heart broken, or whatever sexual desires, there is real honesty in her music. Her journey through musical genres only makes the whole thing more fun: there’s reggaeton, trap, rancheras, dembow, pop… along with guest stars like Shakira, Bad Gyal, Sean Paul, and Romeo Santos that add to the general party-ready, anything-goes vibe of the record. —Laia Garcia-Furtado
Kelela, Raven
February marked Kelela’s long-awaited return after her agenda-setting debut Take Me Apart was released all the way back in 2017—and it proved to be more than worth the wait. A majestic and often moving meditation on queer Black womanhood set over gorgeous, aqueous synths (and with the occasional diversion into the irresistible, club-ready beats that first made her name back on her debut EP Cut 4 Me), the album is something to lose yourself in, or let yourself be carried along by— much like the theme of water that courses through it, from the delicate coos of opener “Washed Away” to the gurgling of a river audible on the ambient final track “Far Away.” The one-two punch of “Raven” and “Bruises”—taking you on a journey from a plaintive refrain about moving on from a past lover to a fist-pumping climax of baroque synths and rattling hi-hats—is pretty much the most exhilarating nine minutes of dance music you’ll hear all year. —L.H.
Lana Del Rey, Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd.
In addition to having one of the longest titles committed to the public consciousness, Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd. also has one of the strongest four-song runs at its beginning. The opening track “The Grants” is spiritual and moody, and smoothly leads into the soulful title track, then sentimental “Sweet,” and then the seven-minute long “A&W,” which has a plot-twist earworm three-fourths of the way through that stays stuck in your head. (Say it with me: “Jimmy, Jimmy, cocoa puff, Jimmy, Jimmy, ride.”) The album showcases Del Rey’s songwriting, mostly through melancholic tracks—that is, until the vibey “Venice Bitch” remix at the very end. This is a great album to listen to from front-to-back, while taking a long walk and imagining yourself as the main character in a movie. —Sarah Spellings
Laufey, Bewitched
I had never heard of Laufey before this year, but the Icelandic jazz prodigy has apparently been making waves for several years now—and the accolades are well deserved! Laufey is like Ella Fitzgerald (but with 21st-century lyrics) combined with Brazilian bossa nova—none of which betrays her actual life: Born to a Chinese mother, she grew up in Iceland and writes poignantly about heartbreak in LA. When I first heard her music, I felt a bit the way I felt when I first heard Amy Winehouse: It was as though her voice was lifted from another decade. —C.Sc.
Mitski, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We
Mitski once again gave us a glimpse into her wonderfully unique mind with The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We. With her fascinating parallels between a bug stuck to the bottom of a glass and an angel, the enigmatic singer offers a world-expanding record with gorgeous vocals to boot. Be it the tender-hearted ode “My Love All Mine,” or the exploration of our burdensome thoughts on “I Don’t Like My Mind,” Mitski’s latest is another masterclass in introspection. —H.J.
Militarie Gun, Life Under the Gun
The hardcore renaissance continues apace! American bands like Turnstile, Drug Church, and Fiddlehead have been hitting the sweet spot between aggressive guitar noise and addictive melody, and this year they were joined by a debut album from Los Angeles’s Militarie Gun that I can’t stop listening to. (Neither can Post Malone, it seems.) Songs like “Very High,” “Big Disappointment,” and the pummeling hit “Do It Faster” are short, loud, and incredibly fun. Workaday malaise transformed into fist-pumping shout-alongs. —T.A.
Olivia Rodrigo, Guts
When I heard that the teen queen of my heart Olivia Rodrigo would be releasing new music this year, I was kind of nervous; I held weirdly fond memories of driving up to the North Fork after a bad breakup with Sour on repeat, crying into my McDonald’s iced caramel macchiato and screaming along with Rodrigo as she lamented how quickly her ex had moved on. Rodrigo so totally mastered the balance between sugar-sweet pop and—yes—sour, Hole-inspired, riot-grrrl-esque punk on her debut album, I wasn’t sure how her sophomore effort could possibly measure up. So I should state straight off that Guts, that sophomore effort in question, isn’t an attempt to remake Sour for a late-Biden-administration era—and thank God for that. Sure, there are plenty of scream-along hits, from “Bad Idea Right?” (a perfect ode to sleeping with your ex despite your friends’ exhortations not to) to “Vampire,” which you’ve probably already heard everywhere, and for good reason. But Guts is a decidedly more adult effort, one punctuated by swear words and a more developed sense of anger that speaks to Rodrigo’s growing up—and overall, it works extremely well. —Emma Specter
Sufjan Stevens, Javelin
A new Sufjan Stevens album always feels like an event: As an artist who lives mostly out of the public spotlight, his genre-agnostic approach to music-making means you’re never quite sure what to expect, while his fans are known to parse his lyrics for clues as to what he’s been up to in the years between albums. After the effusive critical and fan response to his tenth studio album Javelin last month, which came after Stevens opened up about his diagnosis with Guillain–Barré syndrome earlier this year, many interpreted it as a breakup album, due to its devastating vignettes of fighting to hold onto a love that was slowly slipping away. (Not least on the album’s highlight, “Shit Talk,” with its refrain of “I don’t wanna fight at all / I will always love you,” soaring over a harp-like guitar line and eventually a rousing choir, which seemed to suggest a willingness to let a broken love go.) Then, a few days after its release, Stevens shared a post explaining that his partner, Evans Richardson IV, had recently passed, casting the album in another, altogether more powerful light: as a tribute to Richardson and an expression of grief as well as heartbreak. Even if knowing that might cause the listener to shed a few additional tears, what’s most impressive is that even without knowing it, Javelin is still one of the year’s greatest musical achievements. —L.H.
Troye Sivan, Something to Give Each Other
It’s kind of wild that we don’t have more for-the-gays pop albums in the roster this year, but Troye’s dancey, sexy Something to Give Each Other is the fun record that we need right now. Somehow, the singer followed up his two summer bangers—“Rush” and “Got Me Started”—and delivered a consistently strong album. The standout hit? “One of Your Girls,” Sivan’s message to all the straight boys who love experimenting. It just so happens to be Sivan’s favorite track off the record—and it’s ours, too. —C.A.
Unknown Mortal Orchestra, V
In the five years since Sex & Food, the New Zealand psychedelic rock band proves that they’ve still got it with V. In their fifth studio record, UMO—fronted by Hawaiian-Māori singer Ruban Nielson—continues to deal with complex themes. Nielson explores American imperialism with “I Killed Captain Cook,” as well as the pitfalls of capitalism in “Weekend Run,” all over a funky, foot-tapping beat. —H.J.
Water From Your Eyes, Everyone’s Crushed
Water From Your Eyes’s Rachel Brown and Nate Amos make perfectly messed-up pop music that veers—sometimes sweetly, sometimes violently—from the angelic melodies of “Structure” and “Remember Not My Name,” to the chaotic beats of “Barley” and “True Life,” and lyrics that reflect modern life’s signature disjointedness. (Is there a more perfect anthem for the year 2023 than “Buy My Product”?) Listening to Everyone’s Crushed brings forward the same feelings I had when I was a teenager first discovering music—Who are these people? Where did this music come from?—and the compulsion to find the answers to these questions by listening to the record over and over again. —L.G-F.
Yaeji, With a Hammer
Given Yaeji first made a splash in 2017 with her first two EPs (as well as her breakout club hit “Raingurl,” which still sounds fresh six years on), it’s taken a minute or two for the Korean-American artist to return with her first full-length. But with the release of With a Hammer, it was clear that Yaeji had spent the downtime honing and refining her sound into something deeper and more personal, audible from the trilling flutes that open “Submerge FM” before fading into a propulsive, bouncy beat as Yaeji flits between Korean and English to reflect with wide-eyed wonder on the interconnectedness of the world around her. (“I can see myself and you and yourself / And me and we’re all a part of one,” she sings in her distinctive upper register.) Elsewhere, the iconoclastic spirit of the album’s title is channeled into songs that rail against the feelings of isolation and rage and childhood repression she experienced growing up between two cultures—but it’s her remarkable ability to synthesize those influences into something entirely her own (as in the delightful video for “Done (Let’s Get It),” which sees Yaeji dance with her grandfather in matching bunny suits) that lends With a Hammer its unique, addictive magic. —L.H.
Young Fathers, Heavy Heavy
I’ve been devoted to the Edinburgh-based Young Fathers since I first heard them all over the soundtrack of Danny Boyle’s T2 Trainspotting sequel six years ago—but they’ve never been quite as easy to love as they are on their latest album, Heavy Heavy. They’re still hard to classify—their music comes off as variously hip-hop, gospel, punk, electronic; maybe think The xx with Frank Ocean on vocals, produced by Massive Attack, variously intense, abrasive, soothing, soulful, and hectic. But Heavy Heavy is a joyous mashup of glitchy, multilingual singalongs, danceable drumming, and righteous cacophonies.—C.Se.
Zach Bryan, Zach Bryan
How to characterize the Zach Bryan phenomenon? It’s true that country music has been dominating the charts of late, but Bryan’s stripped-down, emotionally direct songwriting feels slightly to the side of country. He’s idiosyncratic—an Oklahoma-born Navy veteran who releases music on his own terms. His debut was in 2019, but in the past two years, the flood of tracks on full-length albums and EPs has been staggering, and marks him as a product of the streaming era, where more is always more and each batch of new songs only deepens the devotion of a fanbase. He’s hugely popular, even as he stays just barely out of the mainstream, and his newest—a 16-track self-titled full-length that debuted at number one on the charts—is front-porch country-pop that has the scrappy directness of emo. The single with Kacey Musgraves, “I Remember Everything,” is a great place to start: a lovely shot to the heart. —T.A.