Ben Kaye’s Favorite Albums of the Last 15 Years
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The post Ben Kaye’s Favorite Albums of the Last 15 Years appeared first on Consequence.
It’s Consequence’s 15th anniversary, and all September long we’ll be publishing a series of retrospective pieces encompassing our publication’s own history — and the entertainment landscape in general. Today, Editorial Director Ben Kaye runs down his favorite albums of the last 15 years.
It is really hard looking back on 15 years of music — especially when you’ve spent 11 of them as a Consequence team member. You end up living in a world of critical appreciation or derision, which can warp how you take in albums. I’ve spent the last decade thinking about “best” and “worst” in such journalistic terms that I found it frustrating coming up with my actual favorite albums since 2007.
Deciding on the top records was one thing; there are staff meeting, lively debates, varying opinions. But personally? My personal list of the best records of the last 15 years? Honestly, what’s the point? How is that anything but a microcosm of the conversations Consequence has had since the beginning? Even choosing what I’d call my “favorite” records would just be insight into things I’ve said ad nauseam on the site throughout the years.
So I took a different approach. I decided not to consider records I’d deem important, meaningful, or even good: I’d only think about what records I listened to the most in any given year. That would mean skipping over records that have stuck with me longer or even would place higher in a ranking, leaving undeniable geniuses like Kendrick Lamar or Beyoncé and all-time-favorites like Spoon or LCD Soundsystem off the list. Even so, it seemed to me this methodology would distill the purest definition of “favorite album of the year.”
The exercise proved to be more diaristic than journalistic. It was an odd and enlightening attempt to honestly trace my own evolution of taste and joy, finding where the two met. What you’re about to read is an almost too personal examination of my own musical journey over the last 15 years, which is intrinsically tied to Consequence simply by the nature of my personal and professional relationship with this publication. For me, this is essentially the consequences of growing up with Consequence.
2007: Against Me! — New Wave
I’m the first to admit I was a late bloomer when it came to musical tastes. My college buddies helped expand my horizons, one introducing me to this nifty blog called Consequence of Sound and another showing me the quality depths of emo rock. Somewhere in the middle sat Against Me!’s New Wave, an entry point diehards of the band likely bemoan, but the blend of poppy hooks and punky wailing had me completely consumed. It was probably one of if not the first times a modern record had caused me to go back and explore what had come before.
2008: TV on the Radio — Dear Science
Oooh, I’m an indie kid. Got it. Thanks for clueing me in, TV on the Radio. Dear Science was gorgeous, smart, and intricate. It felt like the biggest thing I’d heard a modern band do, full of funky music beckoning you to dance through the apocalypse. Production, lyrics, vocal delivery — there was so much to dig into in those 51 minutes, whether the unbridled performances of Tunde Adebimpe and Kyp Malone or the technical wizardry of David Sitek. It was the type of record that made me want to listen again and again not just because I liked it, but because I wanted to know more.
2009: Yeah Yeah Yeahs — It’s Blitz!
I think we can all see the sort of ride I was on at this point in my musical journey. (Frankly, it’s going to continue like this for a few more years, so just be prepared for that.) I still remember hearing “Zero” for the first time and how Karen O’s voice simultaneously piqued my intense interest and completely melted me into a puddle. Every note was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard, and yet also so rich in soul and fun. That’s the thing that really sold me on Yeah Yeah Yeahs at the time: No matter what the songs were about, you could feel every bit of joy being pumped into them. And I was all too willing to absorb it right back into myself.
2010: The National — High Violet
Full disclosure: It’s entirely possible I actually spun Menomena’s Mines more in 2010 than I did The National’s High Violet. It’s hard to faithfully recall, because the latter has become one of my favorite albums of all time. Besides, even if Mines had more plays in its entirety, the frequency with which I listened to “Bloodbuzz Ohio” alone that year would dwarf any competition.
Everything on this list so far has come with a bit of nostalgia; this one feels so fresh it could have been released two years ago, not 12. I can’t even fully comprehend what it felt like listening to this masterpiece the first time through because I still play it at least twice a month. Now excuse me while I go sit in four minutes of “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks.”
2011: My Morning Jacket — Circuital
For a moment, I considered putting PJ Harvey’s Let England Shake or Bon Iver, Bon Iver here before quickly realizing everyone I know would have called bullshit. Of course My Morning Jacket’s Circuital was the record I spun most at the time: I had become legally obsessed with the band. Watching them perform at Bonnaroo 2008 (while, I admit, on acid) was what made me want to get into music journalism in the first place.
This, incidentally, was my first full year on the Consequence team, and while I was learning why critically maybe Circuital didn’t have a spot on our year-end report, there was no denying that it was my personal favorite record that year. MMJ bounce around like sonic madmen on their records, and this weird and wonderful explosion of whatever the hell Jim James was exploring this time felt like the best damn thing I’d ever heard.
2012: Japandroids — Celebration Rock
Kind of a turn there, huh? Working for Consequence broadened my music appreciation fast; I don’t even think I had the terms “garage punk” or “noise pop” before this publication taught them to me. Japandroids’ Celebration Rock hit me in that post-collegiate aimlessness sweet spot. Wrapped in that mid-20-something-in-modern-America sense of apprehension and defeat, here came a record that was violently aware of the malaise of existence, presented with a defiant desire to rip through it all. Although I can’t say I’ve revisited this the same way I do things like Dear Science or certainly not High Violet, there are powerfully warm feelings attached to it as I listen back now.
2013: HAIM — Days Are Gone
My god, who knew pop rock could be so freeing? (Everyone who listened to it, that’s who.) There’s a vague sense that I still thought music like this was best kept as a guilty pleasure, but my complete obsession with HAIM’s Days Are Gone helped excise that concept from my brain. There is no “guilt” in pleasure, and I could spin this thing to the point of nausea without losing an ounce of the joy. I had an advanced press copy loaded on my iPhone, and on my summer vacation driving around Costa Rica, there was nothing else playing out of the rental car’s speakers.
2014: Run the Jewels — Run the Jewels 2
Look, it’s pretty clear I’m not the biggest hip-hop person. If I were listing my take on the best five albums from each of these years, there’d be plenty of hip-hop represented — and more than a few at No. 1. But as for albums I’ve spun into the ground? Run the Jewels are one of the few acts that qualify, and Run the Jewels 2 was everything I wanted in rap at the time. It showed off so many strengths, whether El-P’s insanely unique beat creation or Killer Mike’s inimitable flow. And oh man, those lyrics, those punchlines, that alliteration! It all felt so singular within the hip-hop landscape at the time, which is exactly why it so totally held my attention.
2015: Father John Misty — I Love You, Honeybear
I went back and forth so many times on this one. Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly, Carly Rae Jepsen’s EMOTION, Alabama Shakes’ Sound & Color, and Lady Lamb’s After were all contenders. But I was letting my critical and emotional minds get in the way: The only honest answer is Father John Misty’s I Love You, Honeybear. It’s hard to reconcile that fact mainly because of how my FJM opinions have shifted over the years.
Still, the warm vocals and literary lyricism of Honeybear definitely had their hooks in me. “Bored in the USA” and “Holy Shit” in particular were works of caustic brilliance, and I loved an indie folk artist who could spin conventions on their head. Although my feelings for this one have grown complicated, it’s hard to deny how good it really is.
2016: Bon Iver — 22, A Million
Bon Iver lost a lot of “Holocene” fans when he left a more direct chamber folk sound for the folktronica experimentation of 22, A Million. I was one of those numbers at first, thrown off by the nonsense in the very titles of songs like “8 (circle)” and “10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⚄ ⚄.” However, there was something in the songwriting that made me keep coming back to it, investigating what the hell Justin Vernon was doing and how he got there. That constant reappraisal of what originally was so confounding proved one of the most fruitful listening experiences I’ve ever had. This record is genius, and I absolutely come back to it in full more than Bon Iver, Bon Iver.
2017: St. Vincent — MASSEDUCTION
Though I’d always really loved St. Vincent, none of her records had me as fully invested in re-listening as MASSEDUCTION. I guess hooking up with pop mega producer Jack Antonoff early in his career explosion paid off. But that’s passing the genius buck, because it’s obviously Annie Clark’s fearless, witty, and outrageously brilliant songwriting that really made this album what it is. That’s why songs like “Slow Disco,” “New York,” and “Happy Birthday, Johnny” stand up against the fantastic bombast of “Los Ageless” and the title track. Clark has said her storytelling here came from more of a first-person perspective than her past works, and that honesty in storytelling is what kept me seduced.
2018: Christine and the Queens — Chris
Something about the explosion of critical darlings in the mid-to-late-2010s had me longing for music that I enjoyed purely on my own terms. I came to Christine and the Queens not via press releases or coverage in publications, but from a friend’s suggestion. I was spinning Chris before it was really on the Consequence radar, and I’m going to go ahead and take credit for forcing the issue.
Even though the songs’ themes weren’t entirely geared to my personal experiences — or even in a language I understood — they made me feel powerful. There’s no way to critically deny the beauty of the writing and compositions on Chris, but it’s hard to quantify how this record felt to me personally. It was like I was relearning to appreciate the art of pop music all over again, and I didn’t want to let it go.
2019: Charly Bliss — Young Enough
Raise your hand if you saw this one coming. No? No one? It was building off the same vibes as ’18 when I was just hungry for stuff I enjoyed, not just that I knew was objectively great music. (Though as our year-end report from that year indicates, I was able to convince some others of the latter too.) Charly Bliss isn’t for everyone, and I totally get that. I, however, find Eva Hendricks’ voice so weirdly charming, her lyrics so sincere, and the band so freaking fun that Young Enough became my 2019 Days Are Gone: I feel not a bit guilty about the utter pleasure this album brings me. I still smile every time I hear those opening synths on “Blown to Bits.”
2020: Fiona Apple — Fetch the Bolt Cutters
You know what? I’m not gonna even explain this one. Two reasons: We all know how excessively amazing Fiona Apple is and what a triumphant return Fetch the Bolt Cutters was. More importantly, this was 2020 — whatever the hell got you through that year is the greatest record of all time, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation why. Shouts to RTJ4, too.
2021: CHVRCHES — Screen Violence
CHVRCHES were a band I felt had lost some steam since wowing me on their debut. Then came Screen Violence, and I was right back in. I love a huge sounding synth-pop record (now more than ever), and I can think of few that have felt this big in recent years. The hooks are so juicy, even in their darkness, like sinking into the deep has never been sweeter. That’s precisely what 2021 called for as the grips of pandemic despair just couldn’t seem to let go. On top of that, Lauren Mayberry sounds like she found herself again here, which is kind of reassuring in circumstances like these.
BONUS: 2022: Tears for Fears — The Tipping Point
Because there’s no zeroth birthday, 2022 should technically be excluded from this list. Pushed to consider the present, however, there’s no doubt Tears for Fears’ The Tipping Point has been burning a hole in my headphones. It’s the comeback record of the year, and it’s so great to have these icons back.
Ben Kaye’s Favorite Albums of the Last 15 Years
Ben Kaye
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