Photographer Alison Jackson: 'I'm always almost getting arrested'
In 2016, British photographer Alison Jackson plowed through traffic in midtown Manhattan with a Donald Trump lookalike, heading to Trump Tower on Fifth Avenue. A mob followed behind them, as cops hollered over a megaphone: “Get off the road!”
The artist thought to herself: ‘We’re going to be in serious trouble.’
Upon reaching their destination, the doppelganger walked out in front as Jackson photographed him. It was around the time of the Access Hollywood tape so the artist had arranged a protest (women held up placards that read “Don’t snatch my pussy” and “Not my President”).
While some passersby knew this was a Trump lookalike, some were fooled by the spectacle (at least, until getting close up).
It taps into the grey area that has defined Jackson’s photography for the past 25 years, 100 examples of which are now on show as part of a retrospective at NeueHouse Hollywood in an exhibition called Truth Is Dead.
Until 18 December, visitors can see various faux scenarios, from an orangesprayed Trump, Jack Nicholson golfing, Mick Jagger doing yoga, Justin Bieber getting arrested with his pants down or the ultimate impossible – Kanye West singing a duet with Taylor Swift.
They all pose the question of “what if?” with lookalikes in compromising scenarios. “The very nature of photography is highly seductive and powerful, it’s glossy,” said Jackson over the phone from Los Angeles. “We’re living in this artificial, constructed world where you can’t tell what is real or fake. The crazy thing is, we don’t care. It’s just a swipeable, 24-hour news cycle of entertainment.”
Other pictures in the exhibition include George Bush with a Rubik’s cube and Bill Clinton getting a massage while watching his wife Hillary on TV.
“The fake is as good as the real,” said Jackson. “People like Donald Trump and Kim Kardashian make it easy for us: they’re half real, half cartoon.”
The artist aims to capture what we suspect is true – like the Queen having breakfast in bed with her corgis or a viral photo of Trump in the Oval Office with Miss Mexico propped up on his desk, legs open. “I try to push to the edge always,” said Jackson. “And when I get nervous, I know I am on to a good idea.”
Jackson rose to fame in the 1990s, after completing her master’s in photography at the Royal College of Art. Her photo of Princess Diana giving the middle finger in 1998 caused an uproar, soon eclipsed when she made a mockup family portrait of Diana, Dodi alFayed and a mixed-race child.
“I started shooting because I hate photography; I think it’s deceitful, slimy and an untrustworthy medium that seduces you into believing it’s real,” she said, “when there’s no way it’s real.”
Over the phone from Hollywood, she asked: “That’s really what Los Angeles is about, isn’t it?”
Indeed, it’s ironic that her exhibition is taking place in the hotbed of celebrity culture. “The great thing about Los Angeles is that everything is artificial,” said Jackson. “Everyone is an actor, trying to be someone else.”
Each one of Jackson’s photos feels like a well-kept secret. Lookalikes are revealed in over the shoulder shots, in windows and left-open doorways, with soft lighting and fuzzy corners. “It’s all done with a trick of the imagery,” said Jackson.
And it squarely fits the female gaze, as each photo is a critical statement from a feminist behind the lens. “I’m always trying to push the envelope with ideas and not be passive,” she said. “I find men’s photography to be crude. I hope I reveal more.”
But the most iconic photos are of Trump, whether he’s in bed with Stormy Daniels, partying with a group of Miss Universe contestants at the White House or playing golf with the Queen (while wearing a Scottish kilt). “Can I say one thing?” she asked. “Donald Trump is untouchable because he’s a celebrity.”
But doesn’t she make him accountable through her photos? “Well,” she said, “I would like to make him more accountable.”
Probably her most controversial work is of Trump walking with the Ku Klux Klan, while standing before a burning cross. “It’s a terrible photograph,” she said.
It was inspired by the soon-to-be ex-president being influenced by his father Fred Trump (who was once detained at a KKK rally, though his motives remain unclear). In 2016, book publishers declined to publish the picture, and others, as part of her book
Private, which she self-published.
Jackson has always battled censorship – from art galleries and museums declining to exhibit certain works, to TV shows refusing to air controversial pieces. “The narrative is also often censored and changed,” she said.
Just recently, she was scheduled to exhibit her sculpture of Trump with his drawers down, holding the open legs of Miss Universe on a tabletop. All was fine until the presidential election heated up. “Suddenly, the museum didn’t want it,” said Jackson. “Other galleries kept telling me they didn’t want anything Trump or politically related art.” (Currently, the sculpture is on view at Soho Review gallery in London.)
“My aim is to get people to think in a different way about public figures, but most people don’t want to take responsibility for that,” she said.
Despite Biden’s election win, Jackson doesn’t think Trump will go away just yet.
“Its not the end of him, I can’t wait to see the tell-all, post-White House,” she said. “Trump says he’s going to run again in 2024, what if he’s up against Ivanka? It’s terrifying, isn’t it?”
Another target has been Kim Kardashian, who Jackson has shown giving birth, floating ( bottom up) in a swimming pool and trying to fit into a pair of Spanx.
“With Kim, we’re always looking at her bottom,” Jackson said. “Who would have thought we would be a nation of people wanting to watch somebody’s butt?”
Her all-time favorite public figure is Prince Harry, who she has shown with Meghan Markle on their honeymoon, introducing Markle to the Queen and researching baby names on a wipe board. “Meghan Markle must reminds him of his mother, this black sheep of the family,” she said.
Next up, Jackson wants to do a TV series about her work. And with celebrities in hiding during the pandemic, she’s working on a new project about the lives of celebrities in quarantine.
“Celebrities raiding the fridge, packing on the pounds, hanging around, waiting for the phone to ring,” said Jackson, “I think celebrities will be pining for that red carpet for many years to come, but Covid-19 is something we have to learn to live with.”
As of late, she has been posting her latest work on Instagram, like Greta Thunberg explaining climate change to Trump. She’s also planning to do a Zoom casting call, looking for the next Biden.
“America is a divided country that has been woken up, they have a voice now,” she says. “I think there might be riots, a bit of trouble. But Biden is good at cooling everything down.”
But even if things do cool down, Jackson has no plan to stop anytime soon. “I’m always trying to do things people haven’t done and it’s always getting me into trouble,” she said. “I’m always almost getting arrested; I’m always being chased by the police. All I want is the best shot.”
Jackson uses her motorbike as a getaway vehicle, like a bandit from an action film (this was at least the case with the Trump Tower mob from a few years ago). “I have driven off on my fast motorbike, so no one can catch me,” she said.
She’s already looking forward to her next shoot. “Do you know anyone who looks like Kamala Harris?” she asks. “Please point them in my direction.”
Truth Is Dead is showing at NeueHouse Hollywood in Los Angeles until 18 December
named mixed bag that was Me, I Am Mariah … the Elusive Chanteuse: yearning piano and vocal intro giving way to glorious disco, complete with swirling string arrangement and a kinetic guest spot from the rapper Wale.
25. Butterfly (1997)
The title track of the album that announced Carey’s hip-hop-influenced reboot was, ironically, a classic Carey ballad that might have been released in the early 90s. While overlooked commercially, it offers vocal proof that Carey was a cut above the melismatic over-singers that followed in her wake.
24. Don’t Forget About Us (2005)
A single subsequently tacked on to the “Ultra Platinum edition” of The Emancipation of Mimi, Don’t Forget About Us fruitfully revisits the emotional terrain of Always Be My Baby: lyrical heartbreak set to music that feels sunlit. The old trick still worked a treat: it became her 17th US No 1.
23. Hero (1993)
According to Spotify, Hero is one of Carey’s most popular songs. It is also the kind of big ballad that divides opinion: either you find it moving and inspirational, or overblown and icky. That said, it gained serious emotional heft when performed at the Tribute to Heroes 9/11 charity show and President Obama’s inauguration gala.
22. Thank God I Found You (2000)
The Jam & Lewis-produced closer from Rainbow is fine in an adult contemporary power ballad-y way, but the DJ Clue Make It Last remix is the version to hear: an inspired overhaul that transforms the track into a homage to Keith Sweat’s new jack swing slow jam Make It Last Forever.
21. Loverboy (2001)
The first single from the maligned Glitter was overshadowed by Carey’s subsequent breakdown and reports that her ex-husband Mottola scuppered its release by using the same sample – from the Yellow Magic Orchestra’s Firecracker – on I’m Real by Jennifer Lopez. Carey’s song eventually went with a sample from Cameo’s Candy; it’s funky and chaotically fun, but the original, released recently on her Rarities compilation, is amazing.
20. Up Out My Face (2009)
The friendship between Carey and Nicki Minaj went a little awry during their stint on American Idol – “I am not fucking putting up with her fucking highness,” as the rapper put it during one heated moment – but long before that, they collaborated to fantastic effect on this impressively upbeat screw-you to a cheating lover.
19. Make It Happen (1992)
The backing, courtesy of C&C Music Factory, leans towards disco and house – Chic-ish guitar, hands-in-the-air piano – but the lyric finds Carey at her most gospel-infused: “If you get down on your knees at night and pray to the Lord, he’s gonna make it happen.” The groove, meanwhile, is infectious enough to get Richard Dawkins nodding along.
18. Obsessed (2009)
Presumably Eminem thought he was picking on a soft target when he took aim at Carey on 2002’s The Eminem Show. He was wrong: the feud between them escalated until Carey released Obsessed. If the rapper’s response, The Warning, is more vicious, Obsessed wins points for how coolly unbothered and dismissive “the real MC” sounds throughout, and for its longevity: 10 years later, it inspired a TikTok meme.
17. Heartbreaker (1999)
In a sense, Heartbreaker repeats the formula of 1995’s Fantasy: early 80s sample – in this case from teen singer Stacy Lattisaw’s minor pop-rap hit Attack of the Name Game – and guest appearance from rapper. But it never feels like a pallid copy: Jay-Z’s verse is great and the chorus lodges in your brain from the first time you hear it.
16. Say Somethin’ (2006)
The Neptunes’ production on Say Somethin’ is brilliant: minimal 80s synths, machine-gun drum rolls, a roughness to its assembly that’s completely at odds with the ultra-slickness that made Carey famous in the first place. She responds with a relatively understated vocal and Snoop Dogg turns in a neat cameo.
15. Honey (1997)
A Puff Daddy co-produced hit that acted as a statement of artistic independence following Carey’s split from her controlling husband/svengali, Mottola. Carey had, understandably, been pegged as an MOR artist, but Honey revealed that she could adapt to a tougher, more street-level brand of R&B, tempering her vocal power with a new breathiness.
14. Anytime You Need a Friend (1994)
Another track where the remix trumps the original. This time, it is C&C Music Factory’s 10-minute Club Mix, which not only increases the tempo and adds a house beat and a very early-90s organ sound, but also hones in on the gospel feel of the backing vocals, turning a ballad into a dancefloor anthem.
13. It’s Like That (2005)
The first single from The Emancipation of Mimi is a swaggering statement of revitalised intent, its backing – complete with what sound like tabla drums and an oriental flute sample – keying into the Timbaland/Neptunesled early 2000s vogue for stark, experimental R&B, the hook as naggingly memorable as they come.
12. Vision of Love (1990)
Setting the tone of things to come, Carey made a grand entrance with her debut single, a finger-snapping 60s soul ballad update that offered a first glimpse of the sheer power of her voice – swooping and soaring between registers – and rocketed straight to No 1 in the US.
11. Shake It Off (2005)
Inspired at least in part by Usher’s Confessions, Shake It Off is built around a fantastic Jermaine Dupri beat: other than its bouncy syncopation, the track is sparse, the perfect backing for Carey’s saga of insouciantly leaving a failed relationship behind, complete with lyrical reference to a camp 70s bubblebath ad.
10. #Beautiful (2013)
A killer latter-day Carey single that sounds nothing like her peak-period hits. The production is grungy in a way that 90s Mariah would never have countenanced – all twanging guitar and distorted breakbeats – and the feel owes something to the mid-60s; Miguel’s guest vocal is great, and there’s an infectiously breezy, carefree air to the whole thing.
9. A No-No (2018)
A late-period return to the territory of Fantasy and Heartbreaker in that it repurposes an old pop hit – in this case, Lil’ Kim’s Crush on You – A No No’s greatest strength is the way Carey deploys her sweetest-sounding voice to heap abuse on an errant ex. There is a splendid remix featuring Stefflon Don and much bellowing of “bloodclaart”, too.
8. The Roof (Back in Time) (1998)
If you only ever buy one gangstarap assisted song about copping off with a legendary baseball player during a rainstorm, The Roof (Back in Time) should probably be it. Inviting Mobb Deep to guest on a track that samples their classic Shook Ones Part II was a masterstroke, lending some grit to the beguiling romantic atmospherics.
7. Dreamlover (1993)
Carey has always had great remixes. The version of Dreamlover found on her album Music Box is ethereal – twinkling bells and a vocal that swoops so high it’s a miracle anyone other than dogs can hear it – but, for a generation of clubbers, it’s all about David Morales’s tough-but-euphoric Def Club house mix.
6. Always Be My Baby (1995)
Perfectly poised between supersmooth pop, R&B and gospel – the vocal hook – the genius of Always Be My Baby is the way it sets a breakup song to sunlit, uplifting music: it doesn’t wallow in misery, it sounds optimistic for the future, whether the lyrical prediction that the ex will be back comes true or not.
5. All I Want For Christmas Is You (1994)
If it was easy to write a Christmas song that could join Slade and Wham! in the canon of classics, everyone would do it. But it isn’t, as evidenced by the fact that All I Want For Christmas Is You is the most recent addition to the pantheon: a Phil Spector homage that’s now as much part of the season as a family row on Boxing Day.
4. One Sweet Day (1995)
At the time, no single had ever spent longer at the top of the US charts (16 weeks) than this duet with Boyz II Men, Carey’s tribute to her friend and collaborator David Cole of C&C Music Factory, who died of Aids in 1995. The success is testament to the way the song’s heartfelt emotion struck home, via her take-no-prisoners vocal and that immense chorus.
3. We Belong Together (2005)
Never renowned as the queen of understatement, Carey’s mid-00s comeback was on precisely the kind of scale you might expect: Billboard proclaimed We Belong Together the most popular US single of the decade, a restatement of core values – heartbroken ballad, R&B rhythm track – exquisitely delivered, as if her preceding disappointments Glitter and Charmbracelet had never happened.
2. Emotions (1991)
The success of Carey’s 15m-selling debut album should have made her next move daunting. But its follow-up’s title track and lead single sounds effortless: slick disco-infused pop, title cheekily nodding to its inspiration – there’s a distinct hint of the Emotions’ Best of My Love about it – and that astonishing “whistle register” vocal.
1. Fantasy (1995)
The Mariah Carey single that even people who loathe Mariah Carey and all she stands for might be forced to admit is a fantastic piece of pop music. In its original form, Fantasy bounces gleefully along, driven by an immediately recognisable sample from Tom Tom Club’s Genius of Love and borrowing lyrics from the 1981 hit’s chorus for its bridge. The game-changing Bad Boy remix, a blueprint for future pop hip-hop collabs, is even better, opening with a glorious burst of a cappella vocals, upping the Tom Tom Club quotient and allowing an unhinged-sounding Ol’ Dirty Bastard to gatecrash proceedings: “Me and Mariah go back like babies with pacifiers,” he claims, a little improbably.
45 Selena Gomez – Rare
Considering the dramatic origins of her third album – lupus, a kidney transplant, splitting from Justin Bieber and the Weeknd, rehab for her mental health – Gomez could justifiably have released an hour of equally high-intensity bloodletting, but Rare abides by the maxim “when it’s hot, write it cold”. Aside from the wrecking ballad Lose You to Love Me, it’s confidently unruffled, taking the Talking Headsaided oddness of her 2017 single Bad Liar as her template. The often very funny Gomez excels at nimble vocal kiss-offs, which she layers into satisfyingly percussive patterns: the chorus of People You Know seems to fold in on itself like origami; you’d expect Vulnerable to burst into gaudy EDM, but it pares back to Gomez caressing every syllable of the word, as if putting her own seams on show. LS
44 Jessy Lanza – All the Time
It is testament to the allure of her sweet club-pop visions that Jessy Lanza’s breakout stemmed from her most insular work yet. When she sings, the effect is of catching someone unwittingly mumbling along to Janet Jackson through their headphones; her quicksilver vocal intimacy allows for flirtation and hurt to flicker through like electrical surges. The tenderness of Jam and Lewis, west coast hip-hop at its sugariest and the innocence of Japanese city pop are fractured by shivering dubstep and even the exuberant chatter of UK garage. Like a sky laced with pastel cirrus, it is effervescent and aweinspiring. LSRead the full review.
43 Wizkid – Made in Lagos
Nigerian pop continued to establish itself more firmly on the international stage in 2020 with successful albums by Burna Boy, Davido, Tiwa Savage, Tems and more. The best of them all was this lilting, versatile record by Wizkid. Guest stars from across the Black Atlantic – Skepta and Ella Mai from the UK, HER from the US, Damian Marley and Projexx from Jamaica – create the sense of a diasporic dialogue, where reggae, dancehall, rap and Afro-swing seamlessly and sensually intertwine. BBTRead the full review.
42 Kylie Minogue – Disco
The uber-Kylie album thunders through the genre’s history, from the Voulez-Vous-ing of Last Chance and sly references to Gloria Gaynor and Earth, Wind & Fire to its stylish 90s French touch reincarnation. More than simply disco literate, it is also a wonderfully meta exposition of Kylie’s pop identity, how she has embodied hope and joy and lived in service of the perfect pop song – its own bid for immortality. She had spent a few years off the pulse with try-hard Kiss Me Once (2014) and Nashvilleinspired, retirement-tempting Golden (2018). But Disco didn’t just compete with this year’s surprisingly widespread revival of the genre; Kylie’s fantastical dancefloor, one of catharsis and community, resonated precisely with these weird times. LSRead the full review.
41 Actress – Karma & Desire
Darren Cunningham cements his place as one of the great poets of club culture, spanning glacial ambient, UK garage, Larry Heard-ish deep house, bumping techno and high-speed rave, all rendered in monochrome, dirtied watercolours. Guest vocals can be either gnomic (“destiny is stuck in heaven blowing nitro”, Zsela intones) or collapsing (Sampha’s corrupted cries), though Loveless’s chorus of “don’t you want to know me better?” makes for his best earworm since 2010’s Maze.
40 Ariana Grande – Positions
Thirty years after the invention of the “parental advisory: explicit content” sticker, pop celebrated Tipper Gore’s prudish legacy with its filthiest year in recent memory. Ariana Grande’s sixth album made no bones about its primary concern – namely bones every which way until Tuesday, upholstered by slinky, lavish R&B. Often, young women who sprang from kids’ entertainment have used sex to assert their outrageousness and maturity. But Grande’s horniness has been part of her artistic identity for years – on Positions, it offered a safe retreat from headlines about heartbreak and tragedy. It’s also a great smokescreen: the album’s implicit content, about grief and anxiety, is far more revealing than the raunchy stuff. LSRead the full review.
39 Jeff Parker – Suite for Max Brown
The guitarist with jazz-rockers Tortoise, who has released numerous solo records and played sideman to Meshell Ndegeocello, Makaya McCraven and more, was in personal and crowdpleasing form on this LP, which breezes between funk, hip-hop rhythms and cosmic jazz in honour of his mother (named in the title). By sampling, editing and chopping together his own recordings, and folding in various collaborators, including his teenage daughter Ruby, he gives it an impulsively impressionist feel. BBTRead more.
38 Kassa Overall – I Think I’m Good
This is a blessedly uncategorisable record by the New York drummer and hyphenate talent, spanning Frank Ocean-ic romantic R&B lamentations, autobiographical improv, bumping neo-soul, flute fantasies, triphop and more, with guest stars ranging from Vijay Iyer to Angela Davis. The effect is like clambering inside a single particular mind, one that is – as the brilliantly unreadable title suggests – jangled by anxiety but also fumbling towards happiness. BBT
37 21 Savage and Metro Boomin – Savage Mode II
The Atlanta rapper-producer power duo follow their hit 2016 tape with another trap masterclass. Metro’s usual atmospheric snares, chords and nighthawk mood are offset with some gloriously cute flourishes, such as the dreamy backwards tones of Mr Right Now or the classic electro of Steppin’ on Niggas. Savage’s voice is still one of the best in contemporary rap: withering, jaded, but slicked with dark humour. It’s all tied together with oracular pronouncements from Morgan Freeman, who muses on the nature of snitches with a twinkling gimlet eye. BBT
36 The 1975 – Notes on a Conditional Form
After disaffected candour swept literature, many criticsasked whetherself-awareness had gone too farin fiction. There’s not much between the 1975’s Matty Healy and the creations of Naoise Dolan and Sally Rooney: across the band’s fourth album, Healy is acutely aware of his flaws, satirising and shrugging at his ego, his horniness, his political flakiness – and, yes, his overwhelming self-awareness. But where his fictional counterparts were criticised for declining to delve beyond surface recognition, Healy’s frustration at the social dynamics that affirm such behaviour is all over Notes on a Conditional Form. Nothing Revealed/Everything Denied sighs at life spent on the defensive; I Think There’s Something You Should Know sets Healy’s self-alienation to fractured two-step. Sincerity and connection, he suggests, are the only tonic: it’s there in the album’s guileless evocations of American softrock and emo (at 31, Healy comes from the last generation to experience an unmediated adolescence and with it unselfconscious teenage tastes) and its yearning for true devotion. Me & You Together Song vibrates with naivety, a vision of uncomplicated romance and unrelentingly Tiggerish indie-pop that remains insistently in the moment, swapping introspection for admiration. LSRead the full review.
35 Working Men’s Club – Working Men’s Club
Their widely beloved 2019 debut single Bad Blood suggested the Yorkshire quartet could go in any number of directions – vintage new wave, jangly indiepop – but they headed for the club, using the industrial synth pulsations of Depeche Mode and early Ministry, and guitars that nodded to various legendary Mancunians – Bernard Sumner, Johnny Marr, Vini Reilly. From the singsong chorus of Tomorrow to the twanging riff of John Cooper Clarke, the melodies are insistent and prodding, set to unleash a poorly coordinated army of robot dancers when indie discos reopen. BBTRead the full review.
34 Freddie Gibbs and the Alchemist – Alfredo
With two classic albums alongside Madlib, Gibbs continues his other dream producer partnership with the Alchemist (a veteran whose credits include Kendrick Lamar, Eminem, Nas and tens of others) following 2018’s Fetti. As with Madlib, Gibbs pairs well with crackly soul samples, giving him the lofty statesmanlike air he needs when regarding everyone with such alpha-male hauteur, but he never sounds old. His tales of drugs and women are delivered in a hungry flow that is deceptively brilliant: conversational even when at a high technical difficulty. BBT
33 Charli XCX – How I’m Feeling Now
The title of Charli XCX’s lockdown album might be read as business as usual: she is, after all, our most hyper-present and reactive pop star, one obsessed with stimulation. Frustrated by its absence this year, the self-professed workaholic made an album of sugary obliteration that signalled her fierce hunger for the highs: “I’m so BORED,” she spat on Anthems, a bratty shriek to scare off disassociation. But keeping still forced Charli to actually sit with her feelings – a much harder job than simply acting on them – and her fourth album contains moments of dawning horror at what that stillness revealed. How I’m Feeling Now was awash with static interference, a familiar sound to anyone who’s battled through video calling in 2020 – but it also mirrored an interior conflict between signal and noise, distraction and fulfilment. LSRead the full review.
32 KeiyaA – Forever, Ya Girl
Chicago artist KeiyaA’s self-produced debut took you swimming inside her head. Calling to mind the insularity of John Carroll Kirby’s work with Solange and Eddie Chacon, Forever, Ya Girl spirals around murky thickets of R&B, harmonised incantations and stilted beats that mustered a sense of off-kilter propulsion. In contrast to that dreamlike haze was KeiyaA’s clarity of thought. She sang with an intimacy that conveyed the real-time growth of thoughts from instinct to decision, her hurt at the hands of bad men and racists calcifying into defiance. The music sounds like escapism; KeiyaA’s lyrical philosophy lays out a path by which one might truly escape. LSRead more.
31 US Girls – Heavy Light
Heavy Light surveys life and finds a rigged game at every step, from birth to work and ultimately death at the hands of environmental apocalypse. Meg Remy is pictured with a little kid on the cover – a symbol of hope, you might think, but then biological and natural maternal relationships turn out to be corrupted, too. Interludes where people recall the colour of their bedroom wall are next to songs about the insignificance of human history in the grand scheme of the universe. Yet Heavy Light made good on both halves of its name, contrasting those crushingly depressing perspectives with loose, sun-streaked funk and soul and strutting choruses – the sound of people in a room, finding hope where they can. LSRead the full review.
30 Fleet Foxes – Shore
It’s been a year of letting go, a prospect more comforting for some than others. In the former camp was Fleet Foxes’ Robin Pecknold, flying essentially solo on the group’s fourth album. The clenched fussiness of 2017’s CrackUp abated for more subtly detailed, openhearted arrangements – padded and cottony on Featherweight, earnest and loving on Sunblind, a tribute to departed songwriters such as Richard Swift and Arthur Russell – as Pecknold resolved to accept the things he cannot change, to surrender to contentment and honour community in divided times: “We’ve only made it together, feel some change in the weather.” LSRead the full review.
29 Mac Miller – Circles
Released after his death from an accidental drug overdose, Miller’s final album showed the evolution of his artistry. The rapper had already been stretching out into the role of a Bruno Marsish funk singer, and here he tries that out at a lower tempo, seeming to really enjoy letting his voice reach for longer notes or more fragile types of song: psychedelic balladry, indie-folk, white soul. It’s tough to consider how much further he might have wandered next. BBTRead the full review.
28 Thundercat – It Is What It Is
Stephen Bruner’s fourth album caught some flak for lacking the finesse of his earlier work: spattered with subtwo-minute ideas that seemed to constrict and slacken his six-stringed bass excursions; his louche falsetto barely concealing his existential anxiety and fear of loss. But this album was made following the death of Bruner’s close friend, rapper Mac Miller; its telescoping focus and subaquatic funk perfectly mirrored the tides of grief. And so harebrained odes to partying sit next to deeper contemplations of what it means to thrive: on Miguel’s Happy Dance, Bruner is frustrated by advice to dance the pain away, yet accepts that sometimes superficial relief is all there is; the compact drums and fizzing synths never peak, confining him to purgatory – until How Sway, a skittish 75-second blast of fusion, blows out the cobwebs. LSRead the full review.
27 Laura Marling – Song for Our Daughter
Rushed forward by four months to give people something to enjoy during the first UK coronavirus lockdown, Song for Our Daughter sounded like bubbling with Marling herself: the gorgeously recorded vocals sit at the front of the mix, perched at the lip of your ear, and the arrangements sound as if they’ve been made from instruments that happened to be lying around a room (deceptively so, given their depth). Many of her best-ever songs are here: the sniping and sexiness of the toxic relationship in Held Down; the scirocco that seems to blow through Strange Girl; the stillness and bald vulnerability in the moment sketched on The End of the Affair. BBTRead the full review.
26 Bill Callahan – Gold Record
On Bill Callahan’s 2013 album Dream River, he compared finding love to mastering flight, registering his surprise at the ease of it all. His two subsequent albums set their gaze on an ever-widening horizon, and on the strikingly pared-back Gold Record he appoints himself universal co-pilot, inviting you on to his wavelength. He’s an evangelist for marriage, even with its wrinkles; a Zen advocate for finding everyday transcendence in neighbourly interactions and breakfast rituals; resistant to dogma – his horror at the young male protest singer he sees on a latenight talk show is hilarious – and open to connection wherever he might find it. “It’s all one river crossing,” he sings, inviting you to stop resisting and step right in. LS Read the full review.
25 Sault – Untitled (Rise)
Twelve weeks on from one classic Sault album, Untitled (Black Is), came another, winnowing classic Black musical forms into one another: psychedelic soul, Afrobeat, electrofunk, performance poetry, trip-hop, jazz and more. You can identify the collectivism that also charged up the Black Lives Matter movement this year in these songs of solidarity, hope, pain and catharsis, filled as they are with chants and swelling vocal harmonies; the anonymity of the group’s members itself suggests a goal bigger than any one individual. But there are so many particular musical voices across these songs, such as the witheringly hilarious woman on You Know It Ain’t, that it’s never monolithic but rather a collection of personalities. BBTRead the full review.
24 Kelly Lee Owens – Inner Song
Among a huge cohort of artists finding hard-won inner peace this year, the Welsh producer cast off limiting relationships and superficial pleasures on her second album. “Less of who I am for you in case I offend you,” she rued on the song LINE, pledging to be alone instead. With that resolve came an expansion of Owens’ sound: encouraged by Four Tet’s Kieran Hebden, she sang more and counterbalanced her emotionally astute songwriting with increasingly daring production – on Melt!, puckered rapids of minimal techno traced the cracking of an ice cap. Both
sides combined gorgeously on Re-Wild, where frost seemed to sprawl forth from Owens’ voice as she recognised “the power in me”. LSRead the full review.
23 Caribou – Suddenly
A sense of emotional overload permeated Caribou’s 10th album, a response to several years of death and divorce in Dan Snaith’s family. The album surged forth and pulled back, often within the same song. Sunny’s Time pitched a slurping piano refrain against a rap sample smashed into terrazzo; a spiralling synth seemed to make the whole uncanny confection levitate. Snaith’s plaintive voice, reminiscent of Arthur Russell, contrasted soulful samples to particular effect on Home, as if contrasting reality and desire. And although Suddenly was less club-facing than Caribou’s previous albums Our Love and Swim, Snaith’s pleasure centres remained satisfyingly intact on the understated house of Never Come Back, and the filtered giddiness of Ravi. LSRead the full review.
22 Beatrice Dillon – Workaround
There’s been a loose school of electronic producers to emerge in recent years including Objekt, Laurel Halo, Call Super and Minor Science, who, informed by jazz, dub, techno, jungle and ambient, create a kind of maximal minimalism: richly detailed productions that nevertheless drape elegantly. Beatrice Dillon is another, whose sense of rhythm is so trim, balletic and playful. Her debut solo album is actually highly collaborative, with tabla, cello, pedal steel and kora players alongside dance producer peers such as Batu and Untold. The resulting arrangements are a spring clean for the mind. BBTRead the full review.
21 Yves Tumor – Heaven to a Tortured Mind
Anyone longing for a pop star in the tradition of Prince or David Bowie – someone so sexually intoxicating, musically flexible and supernaturally individual they remind you how bland and mortal you really are – should make haste towards Yves Tumor. This album pinged from ecstatic Lenny Kravitz shredding (Kerosene!) to carnal vintage funk (Super Stars), Ariel Pinkish psych pop (Strawberry Privilege), and a really blockbuster lead single in Gospel for a New Century. This was the biggest and best statement yet from the sort of irreverent, box-resistant talent that makes pop culture truly pop. BBTRead the full review.
• This article was amended on 1 December 2020 to correct the name of Destroyer’s album. It is Have We Met, not How We Met as previously stated.