My Top Ten Songs of 2024
Most of them were actually released this year!
Confession: In recent years, when I read year-end lists from music critics my eyes glaze over. Who are all these artists? Which means that, yes, I’m getting pretty old.
But that doesn’t mean I’m a fuddy-duddy who spends all his time listening to music from the years of my youth (the 1970s and ’80s). The list Apple Music shared a week ago with the 15 artists I listened to most often this past year showed that four of them started their careers in the 1970s, one in the 1980s, three in the 1990s, three in the 2000s, and four in the 2010s. Not too shabby for a 50-something, I’d say. Yet it’s also true that I miss an awful lot of new music—and the new music I end up hearing and liking is often a function of serendipity. By which I mean it’s usually a function of what one algorithm or another suggests to me based on what I already like and listen to.
With that in mind, this post lists the ten “new” songs that meant the most to me this year. The first six really are new, released in 2024. The next three were released in 2023 but didn’t come to my attention or make an impact on my ear until more recently. And the final selection actually dates back to 1982 but was released in October 2024 on a “Deluxe Edition” of an album that first appeared 42 years ago.
“Mahashmashana”—Father John Misty (Album: Mahashmashana, 2024)
Father John Misty is the stage name for a singer-songwriter named Josh Tillman, who released seven acoustic folk albums under his birth name between 2006 and 2010 before joining the indie band Fleet Foxes and serving as its drummer for a few years. After leaving the band, Tillman restarted his solo career in 2012 under the ironic clerical moniker and with a radically different sound.
No longer a full-time folkie, Father John Misty blends a variety of styles, including indie folk-rock, elaborately arranged chamber pop, psychedelic rock, and pre-rock ballads, with occasional forays into nightclub jazz and even (on one memorable occasion) mariachi. Paired with these musical experiments are bold and brashly eyebrow-raising lyrics about his personal life and the state of the world. For my money, he’s one of the strangest and most artistically rewarding musicians to emerge over the past decade or so. But he isn’t for everyone.
One sign that he’s for me is that the title cut and lead track from his sixth studio album, Mahashmashana, is probably the song that’s moved me more than any other this year. Clocking in at a little more than nine-minutes long, the track resembles the best music on George Harrison’s classic 1970 album All Things Must Pass, with a slow, dirgy beat undergirding a rich wall-of-sound arrangement and pleasingly melodic vocal line. (Misty is an excellent singer.) The lyrics, including the Sanskrit title (meaning “great cremation ground”), also evoke the spiritual themes of Harrison’s songwriting in the early ’70s, but with one important difference. Whereas Harrison at the time was exploring Hinduism and eager to express his fulfilled longing for the divine (the unironic “My Sweet Lord” was the album’s hit single), Misty is doing something like the reverse: sublimating the anti-religious ire and misanthropic contempt that sometimes suffuses his lyrics into a comprehensive acceptance of unfulfillable spiritual longing.
I won’t quote or attempt to paraphrase what Misty is getting at in the highly poetic and evocative first two verses and choruses of the song. But it’s the final verse and chorus that touch me most of all, expressing with great clarity and brevity a form of disappointed resignation about the fate of truth in the world. The result can only be described as a kind of counter-gospel.
A perfect lie can live forever
The truth don't fare as well
It isn't perched on lips mid-laughter
It ain't the kind of thing you tell
Like there’s no baby in the king cake
Like there’s no figure on the cross
They have gone the way of all flesh
And what was found is lost
Yes, it is; yes, it is
Yes, it is; yes, it is
Yes, it is; yes, it is
Yes, it is; yes, it is
“Broken Keys” (feat. Greg Dulli of the Afghan Whigs)—Ed Harcourt
(Album: El Magnifico, 2024)
I stumbled upon Ed Harcourt’s second album, From Every Sphere, shortly after it was released in 2003, and I’ve been a fan ever since, even as his career in the United States has moved from respectful treatment on alternative radio to thoroughgoing obscurity. These days, he has a small following in the UK and a few northern European countries, and that’s about it. The British singer-songwriter has been called England’s answer to Tom Waits, and I can see why—limited abilities as a singer, romantic melodicism, lots of gorgeously sad piano ballads, and experiments with non-traditional arrangements—though like all such comparisons, this one shouldn’t be taken too seriously. Harcourt is very much his own man.
El Magnifico is Harcourt’s twelfth album or EP and a welcome return to writing standard songs after two records of instrumental music. It’s a strong record filled with many powerful and moving songs, though it also has the boutique and slightly claustrophobic feel that’s common among small, low-budget indie artists who record their music by overdubbing and stacking tracks in living rooms using Pro Tools. Very little on the album sounds like the work of a band performing as an ensemble in real time—though the song I’ve chosen is a partial exception.
“Broken Keys” is an upbeat, ramshackle tune with a gothic bridge and winning chorus. Its soaring melody could almost make it a radio hit if arty British songwriters had any prospects for such a thing in 2024. Greg Dulli of the Afghan Whigs sings the second verse and joins Harcourt on the later choruses. He brings some brash energy to the track, though his voice manages to make Harcourt sound like a gifted vocalist in comparison. I’ve defended imperfection in rock music before, so you shouldn’t be surprised to learn that the limitations captured here don’t diminish my love for the song one bit. I hope you’ll give it—and the whole album—a listen.
“Worst Case Scenario”—Katie Pruitt (Album: Mantras, 2024)
Mantras is Katie Pruitt’s second album, and it shows even more promise than her very strong 2020 debut, Expectations. Raised in a conservative Catholic family in the suburbs of Atlanta, the 30-year-old Pruitt is a lesbian who writes psychologically astute (and therapeutically informed) songs about the emotional struggles of thoughtful and empathetic people like herself. “Worst Case Scenario,” one of the strongest tracks on the album, explores her tendency to catastrophize about her life and the world around her. (The lyrical subject is quite similar to one my own brother wrote about on his most recent album. You can listen to his take on the topic here.)
“Capricorn”—Vampire Weekend (Album: Only God Was Above Us, 2024)
One of my favorite albums of the 1980s is Paul Simon’s Graceland. No wonder, then, that I enjoy the music of Vampire Weekend, since the indie-rock band very clearly grows out of and develops the harmonic and sonic palette of Simon’s classic record. Only God Was Above Us is their fifth album since 2008, and it continues in a similar vein while adding in postmodern production tricks on top of the highly melodic, acoustic-guitar-based folk songs. The song I’ve chosen to share, “Capricorn,” is my favorite on the album. It also does a good job of showing you what I mean by “postmodern production tricks.” The arrangement incorporates various sounds and noises, and it evolves radically over the course of the track, adding a fascinating, dynamic swirl of textures to what would otherwise be a pleasantly tuneful acoustic singalong, which is precisely how I’d describe most of Vampire Weekend’s work prior to this record.
“Front Row Seat”—Dawes (Album: Oh Brother, 2024)
Long-time readers know how much I love the California-based band Dawes. Their songwriter, lead singer, and lead guitarist Taylor Goldsmith is an incredibly talented guy, and at their best, the band is pretty great, too. With their previous album, Misadventures of Doomscroller (2022), Dawes veered away from the Jackson Browne/Laurel Canyon-inspired vibe of much of their previous work in favor of a jammier approach that called to mind Steely Dan, Manhattan Transfer, and other experiments with jazz fusion that were more common in the late 1970s. Suddenly they were writing long, riff-heavy suites. I appreciated some of them, but I preferred the sound and songwriting approach of their previous seven albums (especially Stories Don’t End [2013] and Passwords [2018]).
Thankfully, their latest record, Oh Brother, is a return to form on the songwriting front that also successfully incorporates some of the structural experiments of the previous one. The result is a strong album with several excellent songs. “Front Row Seat” is one of the best. During the instrumental break, you’ll hear what I mean about blending in some of the riff-focused textures of their last album.
“28”—Zach Bryan (Album: The Great American Bar Scene, 2024)
I’m going to admit that I don’t really hear the greatness so many claim to discern in the work of the prolific 20-something country artist Zach Bryan. Part of that might be the result of my lukewarm feelings for country music as a genre. Yet that hasn’t gotten in the way of me greatly appreciating the country-adjacent songs of Jason Isbell. So I’m inclined to say the bigger problem is that Bryan is overrated.
Except for this song from his most recent album. It paints a vivid portrait of an intense and emotionally eventful week, leading up to the singer’s own 28th birthday, spent in Boston and Brooklyn with an old friend, just as love blooms between them. It’s a lilting waltz with a lovely, wistful chorus. If this is a glimpse of Bryan’s future as a songwriter, I could easily see myself becoming a fan of far more than a single song.
“Coffee”—Chappell Roan (Album: The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, 2023)
Thanks to my 18-year-old daughter’s impeccable musical taste, I was introduced to Chappell Roan a few months before she exploded in popularity. Right around the time I began hearing her music being played in my house, in late 2023, Roan played a modest-sized venue in Philadelphia where I had recently seen Dawes, a band with 460,000 monthly listeners on Spotify. Today, by contrast, 41.1 million people listen to Roan every month. Not bad for an artist who burst on the scene a little more than a year ago.
I could tell immediately upon hearing her songs and her singing that she was an incredible talent. But I was also impressed with the way the album sounded. I didn’t warm to the ’80s-style synth-pop arrangements right away, especially on the upbeat, dance-oriented songs. But I could tell, even amidst all the keyboards, that I was hearing something more organic than has been typical for pop music over the past decade or so. Most of the credit for that goes, I later learned, to Dan Nigro, the man who produced Roan’s debut album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, and co-wrote most of its songs with her. As he had on both of Olivia Rodrigo’s albums, Nigro opted for a live-in-the-studio sound that is warmer and less synthetic than the norm today. I suspect that has something to do with Roan’s meteoric rise over the past 14 months.
But the far bigger elements, I think, are the quality of the songs and Roan’s distinctive voice and over-the-top glam-pop persona. She sings bold tunes with raunchy lyrics about the realities sex, love, dating, and relationships in the early 21st century—and she does it with greater flair, intelligence, and humor than anyone else I’m aware of. To get a sense of what I mean, take a listen to “Casual,” a song with brutally honest (and vulgar) lyrics about the challenge of finding one’s way in a world where people will engage in the most intimate of acts with one another, all the while pronouncing it “casual.” The song is hilarious, sad, sexy, and extremely catchy.
But the song I’ve highlighted here is a different sort of statement. “Coffee” is one of several beautiful ballads on the album that haven’t gotten much notice in the swirl of attention that’s engulfed Roan since late last year. I could have shared any of them, but I opted for “Coffee” because, like John Mayer, I think it’s pretty close to being a perfect song. The melody, singing, and arrangement are impeccable, and the lyrics are very finely crafted. The song’s protagonist is planning on getting together with an ex-lover, but doing so is dangerous because she knows (from past experience) that if they go somewhere from their shared past, or they end up in a park after dark, let alone if they get a little drunk, they’ll end up sleeping together—and she knows that would be a mistake. So she settles on them getting coffee, the only thing that seems safe. But even that could end up with them falling into bed, because that’s what she wants, even as she doesn’t. That ache of self-thwarted longing suffuses the song and gives it pathos, wisdom, and gravity.
It’s a 3-1/2-minute masterpiece—and proof positive that Chappell Roan has an extraordinary career ahead of her.
“Evicted”—Wilco (Album: Cousin, 2023)
When Apple Music sent that list of the artists I’d listened to the most over the past year, I was surprised to see Wilco at the very top. But on a moment’s reflection, it made sense. I’d been a big Wilco fan during the era of Summerteeth (1999) and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002), but beginning with A Ghost Is Born (2004), I began to move onto other artists. Over the intervening years, I’d occasionally hear a new Wilco tune that I liked, but nothing moved me enough to inspire an effort to become reacquainted with the band.
Until late this last summer, that is. Due, once again, to the vagaries of one algorithm or another, I heard a song from the band’s 2022 album Cruel Country that I loved. That inspired me to dip into that record and then to move backward, to their 2019 album Ode to Joy and then forward to their most recent album Cousin (2023). Much to my surprise and delight, all three albums were full of great songs. From there I moved backward into their by now very deep catalogue (Cousin is their thirteenth album), finding good songs all along the way. And as Apple Music has now shown me, I ended up doing a lot of listening! (Since Wilco is very much Jeff Tweedy’s band, I listened to his solo albums, too, and read his very enjoyable memoir, Let’s Go (So We Can Get Back).)
Choosing a song to share from all of that was a challenge. But I settled on one of several strong songs on Cousin because I’m especially fond of Cate Le Bon’s production on that album—and I chose “Evicted” because it may be the catchiest on the record. Now that I’ve learned Wilco is still doing top-level, vital work as they enter their fourth decade as a band, I can’t wait to hear what they do next.
“Easy Now”—Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds (Album: Council Skies, 2023)
I was never the biggest Oasis fan in the world, and I won’t be spending obscene amounts of money to see them live on their much-hyped reunion tour. But there’s no denying Noel Gallagher is an incredibly gifted songwriter. I’m also in the minority of people who prefer his voice to the attitudinal sneer of his brother Liam Gallagher. That means I usually opt to listen to Noel’s work outside of Oasis. I started to appreciate his most recent album, Council Skies, about nine months after it was released (in June 2023), and it became one of my favorites of the year. “Easy Now” is a lovely track that showcases his undiminished talent as a pop songsmith.
“Never Be You”—Tom Petty & and the Heartbreakers (Album: Long After Dark, Deluxe Edition; originally recorded in 1982, first released in October 2024)
Over the past few months, I’ve gone through a phase of listening to and really enjoying the late Tom Petty’s 1994 album Wildflowers in the & All the Rest (Deluxe) version that was released a few years ago. In many ways, that album was Petty’s creative peak as a songwriter. But I nonetheless consider the run of three albums he and his spectacular band put out between 1979 and 1982—Damn the Torpedoes, Hard Promises, and Long After Dark—to be his greatest work. In my view, Jimmy Iovine’s production on those records marks an enduring high point in the recording of rock music, especially on the first of those three albums. The band was at its peak then as well, with drummer Stan Lynch doing his best work, guitarist Mike Campbell and keyboardist Benmont Tench blending their instruments in a truly transcendent way, and Petty’s voice displaying a lacerating aggression that would recede on his later work.
How wonderful, then, that the third of those albums was re-released two months ago in a deluxe edition that includes very strong archival material. The best of these gems—apparently the only song Petty ever co-wrote with Tench—was covered by Roseanne Cash in 1985. But now we get to hear the original version of “Never Be You” that was left off of the album—and it sounds so damn good.
I began this post by denying I was a musical fuddy-duddy stuck in the past. But there’s no denying my taste was shaped in a big way by these Petty records—enough so that hearing this new/old track for the first time a few weeks ago gave me chills, just as I would feel discovering buried treasure. That makes the song an excellent choice to round out this list.
Here's a Spotify Playlist of the ten songs:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1ZnLGFKMcgqvQun7gDBo4A?si=q6gRXGYPTjGL5pytuXcLdA&pi=u-cLlnKXfYSGak
Awesome list, sir!