The GQ Staff's Favorite Albums of 2018

Was 2018 an iconic year for music? Some think so, but it's generally agreed upon that music's biggest stars—the ones that put out albums this year, anyway—disappointed pretty much en masse. But there were some bright spots in the increasingly cluttered landscape. Everyone fell in love with Kacey Musgraves's Golden Hour, an album so truly perfect from top to bottom it's hard to fathom. Rap continued to dominate, with strong showings from Cardi B, Young Thug, and Big Freedia among the brightest highlights.

Pop's most left-of-center stars also came back swinging in 2018, weirder and stronger than ever. Robyn brought us the sweet sweet melancholy we love in Honey; Allie X made the case for short, punchy albums with Super Sunset; Christine and the Queens (Dâm-Funk voice: Chrisssssss) showed us how pliable pop could be on Chris. All that is to say: you didn't need to look all that hard to find an album to fall in love with this year. Here are just some of the GQ editors and staffers favorite albums of 2018.

Gorillaz, The Now Now

Gorillaz have quietly built a legacy as one of the most innovative and consistent bands around, all without any "real" members expect for frontman Damon Albarn. The Now Now exceeds the efforts of the other recent Gorillaz album through its back-to-basics sound (Humanz suffered due to an overstuffed guest list) and an all-around less anemic feel. For the first time in a long time, Gorillaz not only feel like a fresh band, but also a radical one. Here’s to the future.—Tom Philip, GQ contributor

Jacquees, 4275

Old school R&B, however you define that, has more or less given way to indie R&B, however you define that. A large chunk of the remaining crooners make nostalgic grabs for the people who comment on Tevin Campbell YouTube videos with “this is REAL music!” and those crooners are usually frauds—but Jacquees (a recently self-proclaimed "king of R&B") is absolutely not. The ‘90s/early '00s-style jams on 4275 are packed with more sap than a forest, which I promise is a good thing. Jacquees is also aided by well-timed features, including Birdman on “4275,” Donell Jones on “23,” Young Thug on “Studio,” and Trey Songz on “Inside.”—Alex Shultz, editorial assistant

Mitski, Be the Cowboy

Everyone seems to have at least one lyric from this album that stopped them dead in their tracks, taking them back to a time in their life where it felt like their heart was taking over the rest of their organs until the whole of them would turn into a pulsing raw mass. My personal pick: “I’ve been big and small and big and small and big and small again / And still nobody wants me.” Your mileage may vary, but Be the Cowboy is one giant celebration of joyfully wallowing in your most directly conflicting emotions.—Jaya Saxena, GQ contributor

Robyn, Honey

First of all, no, this wasn't the album Body Talk fans were expecting, but if we'd gotten that, how fucking boring would it've been? Embrace the evolution of Robyn, a "Human Being" (get it) who stirs up pop music like she's slowly drizzling milk into coffee. If Body Talk was the sound of the club at 4 in the morning, Honey is the next day's comedown, and subsequent turn-up. It's a reminder that we're adults, and fragile ones at that, no matter how strong we appear. Honey is also so beautifully structured, giving you bangers like "Missing U" upfront, loading the middle with dreamy, wistful, weird as hell vibes like "Send to Robin Immediately" (my god, what a song) and its actually perfect title track, and rounding things out with the half-spoken-word "Beach2k20" and the entrancing "Ever Again." Honey is everything I didn't know I needed it to be, and for that, I'll be eternally grateful.—Brennan Carley, entertainment associate editor

Kacey Musgraves, Golden Hour

Kacey Musgraves won 2018. That's just law. Her Grammy-nominated (!!!) album Golden Hour hits every level of the emotional spectrum, often delivering contradicting feels that still, somehow, pair up perfectly. There's patience and longing in "Slow Burn;" hope and melancholy with "Oh, What a World;" care and spite with "Space Cowboy;" sass and smarts with "High Horse." Her lyrics speak volumes, and this year, they sure as hell spoke to me. As a kid who grew up on country music in the south, her ballads remind me of the high-haired songstresses of decades past (we're talking Trisha, Reba, Martina, and more), but with an all-encompassing modernity that every music fan can (and should) appreciate. And If I haven’t convinced you, let her perfectly sequined jumpsuit worn while performing "High Horse" on Ellen last April do the talking. Oh, and "Slow Burn" is the perfect song, thanks. In her words, "Welcome to the yee yee club bitch."—Sam Todd, social media editor

Kamasi Washington, Heaven and Earth

It’s tough to make an epic follow-up record when the record you’re following up is called The Epic, but no challenge is too great for virtuoso Kamasi Washington. Clocking in at two and a half hours (and even longer if you count the extra record inserted in the vinyl release), Heaven and Earth supersedes the jazz odyssey, making brilliant use of every single note. Contemplative and smooth at one turn, frenetic and campy at the next, Washington’s latest is a thrill.—Colin Groundwater, assistant to the editor-in-chief

Christine and the Queens, Chris

Chris feels like an embodiment of the phrase “feeling myself.” It’s stuffed with sultry beats that make you want to run your hands all over your body, flip your head back and forth, and maybe learn French while you rethink your gender identity. What makes Chris Chris is her marriage of music with performance, so do yourself a favor and watch the “5 Dollars” video—but the album also bangs on its own, a testament to the power of a true legend on a creative high.—J.S.

Teyana Taylor, K.T.S.E.

The only issue with Taylor’s second studio album is that it’s far too short. That’s not her fault; it’s Kanye West’s, who had a summertime obsession with brevity that unfortunately extended to the records he produced. “Gonna Love Me” and “Issues/Hold On” are soul-filling jams about the insecurities that come with any established relationship, and to somehow transition from that to “Hurry" (in which Taylor encourages listeners to “Keep your eyes on this fatty") and “3Way" (which, yeah) shows Taylor can deftly handle it all, and well. Hopefully her next album will feature more opportunities to prove her superstardom.—A.S.

Young Thug, On the Rvn

Clocking in at just over 20 minutes, On The Rvn blends Thug’s signature Auto-Tuned hooks and rhymes with fellow crooners Jaden Smith, 6LACK, and T-Shyne—plus an Offset cameo to boot. But the standout, and backbone, of the six track EP is Elton John’s feature on “High.” It’s a surprise collab for Thugger, and yet exactly what we’ve come to expect from one of the weirdest rappers in hip-hop and also makes him a true pinnacle of Atlanta rap in 2018. —Ben Pardee, lead web producer

Janelle Monáe, Dirty Computer

Much was made of how personal Janelle Monáe’s Dirty Computer was in the wake of its release—specifically in regards to the genre-defying artist’s sexuality—which gets to the root of its truest intentions. Have you actually been listening to what Monáe has had to say over the past decade, it seems to ask, or were you only comfortable with her message when it was presented to you in the form of a “concept album?” Dirty Computer is the perfect time capsule of our present moment, an invitation to those marginalized, ostracized, and hopeless to remember their own self-worth. It’s a call to action for the digital age. It’s a reminder that you don’t really have to give a fuck. It also sounds like nothing else on the radio today—like if Prince time-traveled to 2040 with Grace Jones along for the ride. But rest assured, a year from now, every Top 40 hit will probably smack of Monáe’s wide-reaching influence.—Mick Rouse, research manager

Panic! At the Disco, Pray for the Wicked

If there's one thing I like in my pop music, it's a little bombast, and honey, does Panic! At the Disco's dramatic and delightful Pray for the Wicked deliver. It's a wild album, one that veers from big-band brass ("The Overpass") to introspective balladry ("Dying in LA," which Brendon Urie's been performing on an airborne piano on tour, natch) to my actual favorite song of 2018, a wheezing, explosive, equal parts fuck-you to haters (hi haters) and celebration of the hustle called "Hey Look Ma, I Made It." It's the album I revisited the most in 2018, one that reintroduced me to a band I loved when I was younger, and one that broke boundaries and sounded good-as-hell in the process. Consider us blessed.—B.C.

Cardi B, Invasion of Privacy

If you don't like this album, you don't like joy or quality. Facts are facts, America.—B.C.

Kelela, Take Me a_Part, the Remixes

This album showcases Kelela’s prowess not only as a singer but also as a producer. She managed to do the impossible and reinvent what it means to remix a song, let alone an entire album. Take Me a_Part, The Remixes turns her similarly titled 2017 album on its head with genre-defying collaborations from Kaytranada, Princess Nokia, DJ Lag, and a phenomenal go-go track from D.C. legends Rare Essence. And not to make this all about me but this album also blessed me with a new life motto from CupcakKe: “You could be Charlie Sheen, and I'mma tell you again / A bitch like me keep 2 and a half men.”—Meg Vazquez, digital art director

Big Freedia, 3rd Ward Bounce

Freedia’s latest EP is an expansion of what we consider bounce to be. Yes, it has all the beats and callbacks the genre is known for, but this one plays with the form, injecting new kinds of voices and sounds to create a version of bounce that’s better than it’s ever been. Come for her duet with Lizzo on “Karaoke,” and stay for "Rent," the spiteful anthem for anyone who’s ever had a shitty roommate.—J.S.

Jorja Smith, Lost & Found

Jorja Smith’s debut album signals her proper arrival after already having collaborated with the likes of Kendrick Lamar and Drake over the last few year—oh, and, you know, she’s only 21. Smith’s soulful and sultry vocals are at once innocent and wise beyond her years; her effortless cool seeps through each track and is reminiscent of fellow Brit Amy Winehouse. Highlights include “February 3rd,” “Blue Lights,” and “Lifeboats (Freestyle),” which all showcase her range as a singer and as a rapper, as if she needed any more talent. Needless to say, we’ll be eagerly awaiting more Jorja in 2019.—B.P.

Typhoon, Offerings

One of the more embarrassing things about me is how at times I have the musical taste of a barista that hasn't gotten around to updating a playlist in two years. It's for this reason that I gravitate towards music like Offerings.

Largely driven by singer and primary songwriter Kyle Morton, Typhoon makes albums full of sweeping, multi-part indie-rock symphonies, often contemplating mortality, regret, and generational pain. (Morton had a bout with Lyme disease that nearly killed him and it haunts nearly everything he writes.) Traditionally, the melancholy is levied by the fact that Typhoon is a band that includes literally every friend of Morton's that's willing to join him on stage or in the studio, imbuing the band's music with a warmth that radiates no matter how maudlin the lyrics threaten to get.

On Offerings, a concept album about a man facing the loss of his memory (I know), this warmth carried me through an oppressively bleak second half of the year without pretending that things weren't bad or that I was totally okay. Offerings did this while also paring back the bigness of Typhoon's sound, refining their twee excesses into something more somber that occasionally breaks into the surprise jubilance of "Unusual," or the devastating coda to the sweeping "Empiricist." It's a beautifully earnest work to sit alone with, and a beautiful way to learn how to be okay with sitting alone.—Joshua Rivera, GQ contributor

Allie X, Super Sunset

Allie X has been swirling around the outer corners of the mainstream for a few years now (try "Vintage" on for size and thank me later), but on this fall's exceptional, singular Super Sunset, she finally enters the gates of pop heaven. A tightly focused 8-track album, Sunset is one of 2018's strongest bodies of work. "Not So Bad in LA" is cutting and hilarious. "Girl of the Year" is joy incarnate, produced to the nines with a vocal performance to match. "Focus" makes me sob every time I listen to it; lyrically, it's an unparalleled glimpse at how love sucks you in suddenly and all at once. In that way, it's like Super Sunset as a whole: masterful, new, and enrapturing.—B.C.

Brockhampton, Iridescence

Had you told me at the beginning of 2018 that my favorite album this year would feature elements of contemporary rap, drum and bass music, grime, ‘90s mega pop, and early ‘00s emo, I probably would have said “yeah of course, that sounds fucking sick.” World’s greatest boy-band Brockhampton’s latest effort is exactly that. True to its name, iridescence is an amorphous beast of an album. Constantly tearing through expectations, the stunner features searing posse tracks, blue sky pop reminiscent of peak Spice Girls, and choruses that remind you of your favorite Taking Back Sunday song. Truly an instant classic.—Gabe Conte, digital producer

Now, Now, Saved

Indie-pop-rock duo Now, Now’s third studio album starts off with “SGL,” a song that is all eighth notes and frenetic acoustic guitar strumming layered over Cacie Dalager’s breezy vocals—some sort of midwestern blend of Lorde, Hayley Williams, and Jenny Lewis. “If only I could read your mind,” she sings, practically breathing into the microphone, her voice swirling. The effect is visceral and propels the rest of the record, itself a lyrical obsession over the question: What if, just for a second, we could see inside each other’s heads? Would our relationships not be simpler that way? Saved is at its most impactful as an album you listen to in your bedroom, recalling those summer nights when you used to drive around with the windows down. If you close your eyes, you can practically feel the humidity on your skin.—M.R.

The 1975, A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships

A band I've loved for a while made an album I'll love forever. A Brief Inquiry is, for all its disparate parts (an Oasis-y ballad, a spoken-word interlude about a robot, a very convincing Drake knockoff), totally warm and lush. "Give Yourself a Try" takes melancholy and filters it through a self-help prism; it makes me wistful and hopeful in the same breath, and it's the closest I've felt to hearing the Strokes for the first time since, well, hearing the Strokes for the first time.—B.C.

Tove Styrke, Sway

Sweden's Tove Styrke makes some of the best pop music, and has for a few years now. Her album Sway is a gorgeous glimpse at what my personal version of heaven must be like, a hybrid of booming maximalism (the stuttering "On a Level") and stripped-down minimalism (the whispery "On the Low"). She's also making some of the most interesting use of AutoTune in music today ("I Lied," blissed out and crackling). Get on her level already, America.—B.C.

Lucy Dacus, Historian

Lucy Dacus has a lot going for her—natural warmth in her voice, the subtle wit and deep empathy of her lyrics, very cool friends. The first two are on full display in her sophomore LP Historian, which tracks the twin grief of a breakup and a death (the third one is evident in her supergroup’s self-titled debut EP), also out this year). What really sets Dacus apart, though, is the strong center of gravity at the heart of her music. Of the many talented young songwriters working today, Lucy Dacus may be the most grounded. Historian reflects a deep awareness that wisdom is different than knowledge and that questions can be more powerful than answers.—C.G.

Lily Allen, No Shame

It took time for me to fall in love with No Shame, not because I didn't like it at first, but because it's so jarringly open, often bleak, and sometimes even pessimistic that I wasn't sure I could happily welcome it into my already emotionally fucked 2018. But Lily Allen's genius songwriting—there's no other way to put it, really, because she is a genius—and the record's matching production eventually broke down my walls, and I'm so much better for it. It's an album that grapples with fame, motherhood, being single, substance abuse, aging, and the metaphorical flowers that miraculously sprout from the ground after you'd assumed the earth had been scorched. It's kind of impossible to pick just a song or two from No Shame that represent it as a whole, but "Three"—a bare-bones ballad about children and loneliness and longing—will punch you in the gut before you even get to the line "This afternoon I made a papier-mâché fish, mom / I made it just for you."—B.C.

Kali Uchis, Isolation

On 2016’s “Get You,” Uchis delivered a wonderful, wavy verse nestled neatly between Daniel Caesar’s perfect vocals. But she still needed a proper debut album, which she bestowed upon the world and nearby planets with Isolation. Every song on the album is capable of transporting you to a pleasant daydream about something or someone. The only way to snap out of it (if you even want to) is to play “Get Up” on repeat: “The clock is counting down / Alarm says ‘wake up now’ / I wanna spend the day in bed / But I gotta get up … and get me something real.” Same.—A.S.