Top 100 Music Albums of the 2010s by 
DriftingOrpheus 
- Chart updated: 04/09/2024 03:45
- (Created: 04/02/2020 03:56).
- Chart size: 100 albums.
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Colorado native Winston Yellen's LP debut, 2013's Country Sleep, comes parceled with a distinct visage of a muggy, summer evening complete with a chorus of crickets heard through screen doors and fireflies that illuminate the periphery. As a humble fire smolders and crackles, Yellen's voice emanates soulfully conjuring emotions no doubt aided with liquid courage. As remarkable as his voice is, it's the insight he provides through his poetry that paints Yellen as a troubadour wise beyond his years. There's an intrinsic sense of forsaken, romantic languishing running through the album like a submerged river that's just as devastating as it is beguiling. Still, it's the authenticity of Country Sleep that sets it apart from its melancholic peers. It's a fully exposed, armorless logbook of soreness that exudes unyielding fragility at every turn. Seemingly medicinal for the youthful artist, the album purges the poison that torments him, repurposing it as propellant for something uniquely gorgeous. In other words, a wildfire that produces a wonderfully fertile soil.
Country Sleep commences in the most unguarded of ways. Faithful Heights, an a capella vocal track, is a declaration of support, almost in an attempt to reach out to the listener as a plea to remain hopeful and use the tracks that follow as emotional support. It's a wondrous foreward serving as instructions to learn from anguish rather than have it anchor you. Yellen's voice is soaring here and needs no instrumental buoying. He howls, "And in the morning light, we'll be sure to find, a kind of love so strong, It will make us cry faithful heights." Faithful Heights is the most confident of openers, simultaneous announcing itself in the most humble of fashions. The album's largest injection of energy comes in the form of second track, Ramona. The track, certainly the most conventional of the LP, is fueled by a resilient drum beat and supported by a full band backing. Even Yellin's voice receives reinforcement here from a fellow Yellin, Abe, and Alyson Holland. The track evokes visions of the American heartland and sun-swept memories of simpler moments. Despite an uptempo, cheerful timbre, the lyrics detail a declaration a love and a promise of a brighter future that seemingly remains unrequited. Subsequent track, Even If We Try, arrives as a swaying, violin-soaked bubbling crescendo that evolves into a rhythm-heavy, country-tinged outro. It's a track that can be best described as baroque-folk and there is no better talisman for the term. Yellin coos, "Even if we try, to make ourselves alright, to mend our severed lives, while all the rivers rage, descend upon the sage, alone on willowed eves, I lift my voice to sing." Something truly heavenly radiates here, shimmering in and out with subtle grace.
Fourth track, the numerical '22', may be the most all-encompassing track from the record, existing as the sonic footprint for Country Sleep. The piece is a stirring partnership of Yellin's woebegone vocals and a twinkling organ that gives the impression that the track will dissolve at any given moment. Much like the preceding Even If We Try, '22' is often overwhelming in its aesthetic beauty, almost weeping throughout. "A part of me, I call a stranger, this part of me, I found in danger, we saw the night, you fleshed it out, across time, wearin' my heart’s smile," Yellin details. The most unabashedly southern outing on the LP would most certainly be fifth track, Borrowed Time. Billowing out at a subdued rate and punctuated by extroverted bass, the song wouldn't be out of place in a Texas tavern nearing midnight. However, unlike the twangy karaoke ballads, the track has deep-rooted sentiments. Yellin croons, Now the sky unfolds it's blackened roads, life as it was never known, go on, see your part and see this through, maybe, maybe it might move you." Cherry Blossoms follows as another exhibition of restraint that results in a spring-loaded release of tension in the shape of twelve consecutive shouts of "Take me home". Wanted_You in August is an example of a straight-forward composition acting as a showcase for Winston Yellin's magnetic vocals. Recalling either a missed opportunity or an unreciprocated adoration, he sings, "My love is wrong, he's set it wrong, how do we..never again."
The album hits another creative high with eighth track, Lost Springs. Yellin rhapsodizes on anxiety-riddled self-accusations which results in a track that's effortlessly human. He asks questions and jumps to conclusions before answers can be heard. Sonically, the track is warm and inviting but the chill of the violin features emphasize the presence of nervous doubt before Yellin himself asks his flame, "How are you going to live your life alone?" and "I will never leave you." The final respite comes in the form of a final confirmation, a firm promise amidst a haze of doubt. Penultimate track, Was I for You?, introduces a folk-infused acoustic guitar arpeggio before an astonishing organ passage that remains one the finest moments on the record. TENN ends the album with a more traditional folk effort, acting as an epilogue to the stories of crippling sorrow and unflinching devotion. It's not so much what Yellin has learned that is noteworthy but rather his ability to remain as he is throughout his tribulations. He's acknowledged his shortcomings and is well-aware of his misfortunes but his heart remains open, willing to love while adrift in a sea of loneliness. "Floating on lost springs, to faithful heights I cling, sorrow stole my youth, what's left I'll give to you."
Country Sleep is part Dylan Thomas and Bob Dylan, so evocative and yet so ethereal. The record is supremely delicate and never attempts to shroud or recast the precise order of events in question. Comparable to Joy Division's Closer in regards to just how personal of a testimony it is, Country Sleep packages long-form meditations into controlled bursts of ornamental beauty, both poetic and sonic. After the critical misfortune surrounding second LP, Ivywild, one could be lead to believe that Country Sleep was just lightning in a bottle for Winston Yellin, however, it more likely chronicles a slow burning candle, representative of a distinct mood during a place and time that cannot be reached again. A candle that burns once and only once.
"Oh God, I've forgotten how to pray,
Make me a man like you did with Abe,
Faith can carry a man to his grave,
Would you bury my bones by the garden gate?"
-Borrowed Time
Standout Tracks:
1. Even If We Try
2. 22
3. Lost Springs
90.8 [First added to this chart: 10/24/2020]
Country Sleep commences in the most unguarded of ways. Faithful Heights, an a capella vocal track, is a declaration of support, almost in an attempt to reach out to the listener as a plea to remain hopeful and use the tracks that follow as emotional support. It's a wondrous foreward serving as instructions to learn from anguish rather than have it anchor you. Yellen's voice is soaring here and needs no instrumental buoying. He howls, "And in the morning light, we'll be sure to find, a kind of love so strong, It will make us cry faithful heights." Faithful Heights is the most confident of openers, simultaneous announcing itself in the most humble of fashions. The album's largest injection of energy comes in the form of second track, Ramona. The track, certainly the most conventional of the LP, is fueled by a resilient drum beat and supported by a full band backing. Even Yellin's voice receives reinforcement here from a fellow Yellin, Abe, and Alyson Holland. The track evokes visions of the American heartland and sun-swept memories of simpler moments. Despite an uptempo, cheerful timbre, the lyrics detail a declaration a love and a promise of a brighter future that seemingly remains unrequited. Subsequent track, Even If We Try, arrives as a swaying, violin-soaked bubbling crescendo that evolves into a rhythm-heavy, country-tinged outro. It's a track that can be best described as baroque-folk and there is no better talisman for the term. Yellin coos, "Even if we try, to make ourselves alright, to mend our severed lives, while all the rivers rage, descend upon the sage, alone on willowed eves, I lift my voice to sing." Something truly heavenly radiates here, shimmering in and out with subtle grace.
Fourth track, the numerical '22', may be the most all-encompassing track from the record, existing as the sonic footprint for Country Sleep. The piece is a stirring partnership of Yellin's woebegone vocals and a twinkling organ that gives the impression that the track will dissolve at any given moment. Much like the preceding Even If We Try, '22' is often overwhelming in its aesthetic beauty, almost weeping throughout. "A part of me, I call a stranger, this part of me, I found in danger, we saw the night, you fleshed it out, across time, wearin' my heart’s smile," Yellin details. The most unabashedly southern outing on the LP would most certainly be fifth track, Borrowed Time. Billowing out at a subdued rate and punctuated by extroverted bass, the song wouldn't be out of place in a Texas tavern nearing midnight. However, unlike the twangy karaoke ballads, the track has deep-rooted sentiments. Yellin croons, Now the sky unfolds it's blackened roads, life as it was never known, go on, see your part and see this through, maybe, maybe it might move you." Cherry Blossoms follows as another exhibition of restraint that results in a spring-loaded release of tension in the shape of twelve consecutive shouts of "Take me home". Wanted_You in August is an example of a straight-forward composition acting as a showcase for Winston Yellin's magnetic vocals. Recalling either a missed opportunity or an unreciprocated adoration, he sings, "My love is wrong, he's set it wrong, how do we..never again."
The album hits another creative high with eighth track, Lost Springs. Yellin rhapsodizes on anxiety-riddled self-accusations which results in a track that's effortlessly human. He asks questions and jumps to conclusions before answers can be heard. Sonically, the track is warm and inviting but the chill of the violin features emphasize the presence of nervous doubt before Yellin himself asks his flame, "How are you going to live your life alone?" and "I will never leave you." The final respite comes in the form of a final confirmation, a firm promise amidst a haze of doubt. Penultimate track, Was I for You?, introduces a folk-infused acoustic guitar arpeggio before an astonishing organ passage that remains one the finest moments on the record. TENN ends the album with a more traditional folk effort, acting as an epilogue to the stories of crippling sorrow and unflinching devotion. It's not so much what Yellin has learned that is noteworthy but rather his ability to remain as he is throughout his tribulations. He's acknowledged his shortcomings and is well-aware of his misfortunes but his heart remains open, willing to love while adrift in a sea of loneliness. "Floating on lost springs, to faithful heights I cling, sorrow stole my youth, what's left I'll give to you."
Country Sleep is part Dylan Thomas and Bob Dylan, so evocative and yet so ethereal. The record is supremely delicate and never attempts to shroud or recast the precise order of events in question. Comparable to Joy Division's Closer in regards to just how personal of a testimony it is, Country Sleep packages long-form meditations into controlled bursts of ornamental beauty, both poetic and sonic. After the critical misfortune surrounding second LP, Ivywild, one could be lead to believe that Country Sleep was just lightning in a bottle for Winston Yellin, however, it more likely chronicles a slow burning candle, representative of a distinct mood during a place and time that cannot be reached again. A candle that burns once and only once.
"Oh God, I've forgotten how to pray,
Make me a man like you did with Abe,
Faith can carry a man to his grave,
Would you bury my bones by the garden gate?"
-Borrowed Time
Standout Tracks:
1. Even If We Try
2. 22
3. Lost Springs
90.8 [First added to this chart: 10/24/2020]
2
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Buried beneath overexposed, overplayed fluff pieces and quality indie artists that have trickled into the general populace, we find Atlanta's long-serving, consistent Deerhunter, an entity that find themselves continually on the precipice of burgeoning popularity but consciously camouflaging from the very prospect. The band are seemingly insistent on remaining a fixture of the underground music scene despite their talent for the melodic. Frontman and flag bearer for the group, Bradford Cox, plants his flag firmly in the soil of washed out and weird for the group's sixth LP, Monomania. If the band were amalgamated as a human being, Cox himself would be the physical result of the synthesis and Monomania is cited as the record he's most proud of. The group had long since represented the socially challenged in their music, crafting anthems for the charmingly awkward and the uncontrollably shy. Adversely, Monomania is charged with aggressive energy that sees the band slip into an alternate headspace, one which they adapt to and conquer with proficiency. Cox has expressed that the LP is quasi-biographical, fueled by his state of mind at the time. As a result, the record spends less time meandering through forests during sundown à la earlier Deerhunter efforts. Instead, it cuts straight to the bone and forms a modern classic amidst an already decorated catalogue.
The noise rock sheen is cemented with opening track, "Neon Junkyard", which invokes one of Cox's treasured acts, Royal Trux. The singer's vocals are vigorously clouded, more congruous with the guitars of Lockett Pundt and Frankie Broyles as opposed to a single melodic entity. Though the music is unabashedly direct, the lyrics present more of an abstraction. Cox scowls, "Finding ancient language in the blood, fading a little more each day." It's an apropos entry point into the thematic stylings of Monomania. "Leather Jacket II" amplifies the intensity, ushering in garage rock swagger braced by howling guitars that emerge midway through the track. Cox's vocals are even further back in the mix but his tape manipulation helps color the song's intentionally rough edges. The sentiments are more transparent here as Cox sings, "I was just bones; Yeah I barely tried, they always cut my head off." Cooler heads prevail as "The Missing" comes into view. Vocal duties are handed off to Lockett Pundt who penned the song. His serene voice cascades downward, dousing water over the fire lit by the band in "Leather Jacket II". The piece is reflective and acts as a comedown for a record still in its infancy. Bradford contributes on the cut as well, as his soothing synthesizer and heartbeat drumming provide a soft landing for Pundt's fragile vocals. "Pensacola" is a slice of southern-hospitality, served straight from Deerhunter's unorthodox, noisy kitchen. Josh McKay's bass and Cox's percussion pump blood through it and provide bouncy buoyancy for the prose. Cox's character yearns to leave behind an undesirable home life, even for the unlikely haven of Pensacola, Florida. The rhythm section shines again in the following piece, "Dream Captain", which details another account of a caged bird looking for escape. It's clear by now that Cox has projected the specifications of the personal prison he called home onto the face of the album. Here, he longs for a manifested fantasy skipper to whisk him away from a terrible place in a hopeless time. Sixth track, "Blue Agent", unfurls as a prickly yet magnetic testimony of a friendship gone awry, devolving into quiet resentment. Cox brags, "If you ever need to talk, I won't be around; If you ever need to fight for life, I'll make no sound." The song brandishes cold and calculated malice masquerading as rhythmic curiosity, encapsulating Monomania's essence.
The second half of the record commences with the cold guitar line that highlights "T.H.M", a ghostly track that touches upon the suicide of Cox's younger brother. Hauntingly profound, the poetry recounts early morning phone calls from the dead and failed attempts at brotherly course correction. Josh McKay's bass rests beneath like an ankle-high fog as the room's temperature takes a dive. Cox laments, "My head was like a wound when they called me and said, It's happened much too soon". Eighth track, "Sleepwalking" sports chugging inertia with Moses Archuleta's drums powering a piece that deals with the removal of rose-colored glasses. A union is coming apart due to a bittersweet epiphany as Cox explains, "Can't you see, we've grown apart now." It is, without a second notion, the rhythmic jewel of Monomania. "Back to the Middle" functions as an epilogue of sorts for "Sleepwalking". The production here is translucent in comparison to the rest of the record, furthering the theme of clarity of recollection. Organ passages tether the verses together to give the track flavor amidst the straight-forward melodic approach. The title track screeches as it shakes your hand, assuring that no other is more fit to bear the album's namesake. The song is a volcano of frustration, touching on themes of unfulfilled sexuality and uncompromising, emotional resolve. Cox remains romantically stymied but staunchly unwilling to accommodate to shallow expectations. "There is a man; There is a mystery whore and in my dying days I could never be sure," Cox declares. Repeated utterances of "Monomania" lead us out with a double act of definition and implementation. Sonically, the track is the most visceral of the record. "Nitebike" picks up the pieces of previous fury with a literal recording of a modest motorcycle. The song itself, which shines light on Cox's complicated youth, consists of just Bradford and an acoustic guitar. The ruminative space that "Nitebike" occupies calms the wounds left in "Monomania's" wake. It's a highly shaded anecdote that inhabits a peculiar but welcomed space. On the final track, "Punk (La Vie Antérieure)" employs hypnotic wordplay alongside dizzying psychedelics to create one of the album's most sensory experiences. "Punk" traverses ideas of self-identity and how fruitless it can be to fit a round peg in a square hole. The band double up on bass duty here, ensuring a muggy undertone to Cox's lyrics. "Punk" guides the album to its conclusion in a catchy and clever fashion.
The labyrinthian mosaic being weaved by the Atlanta outfit is still being constructed. Like an evolving amoeba, Deerhunter often deconstruct and rebuild sonically in order to please themselves. There's no quaking, self-serving desire to conform in fear of being left behind, a tactic that many of their peers would employ. This unit had already survived deaths, multiple label alterations and hiatuses all while boasting one of modern music's most dependable discographies. Cox has long lambasted the selection of the band's namesake, rejecting any connotations or discussions it may inspire. The name simply has no significance, save for a mark of consistent quality. However, it's Cox's very rejection that carries the utmost significance, indicating an endless desire to push boundaries and avoid creative complacency. Despite Monomania being a voracious account of a difficult time, repeated ingenuity is not something Deerhunter struggles to achieve. With the treasure trove that is the band's criterion, others would likely point to earlier triumphs like Halcyon Digest or Microcastle as potential crown jewels. However, like the band's purposeful ability to conceal and distance itself away from a steadily hollowing indie scene, Monomania is a proper masterpiece hiding in plain sight. They say still waters run deep and that's true of human beings, but in Deerhunter's case, their most raucous effort surely has the most to say.
"Your bones they were always, they were always in my way
The fire finds a way to completely erase
I followed you out
You threw up and you complained
And I bide my time, and I hide my glory away
In the basement room where you used to kneel and pray"
-Blue Agent
Standout Tracks:
1. Sleepwalking
2. T.H.M
3. Pensacola
90 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
The noise rock sheen is cemented with opening track, "Neon Junkyard", which invokes one of Cox's treasured acts, Royal Trux. The singer's vocals are vigorously clouded, more congruous with the guitars of Lockett Pundt and Frankie Broyles as opposed to a single melodic entity. Though the music is unabashedly direct, the lyrics present more of an abstraction. Cox scowls, "Finding ancient language in the blood, fading a little more each day." It's an apropos entry point into the thematic stylings of Monomania. "Leather Jacket II" amplifies the intensity, ushering in garage rock swagger braced by howling guitars that emerge midway through the track. Cox's vocals are even further back in the mix but his tape manipulation helps color the song's intentionally rough edges. The sentiments are more transparent here as Cox sings, "I was just bones; Yeah I barely tried, they always cut my head off." Cooler heads prevail as "The Missing" comes into view. Vocal duties are handed off to Lockett Pundt who penned the song. His serene voice cascades downward, dousing water over the fire lit by the band in "Leather Jacket II". The piece is reflective and acts as a comedown for a record still in its infancy. Bradford contributes on the cut as well, as his soothing synthesizer and heartbeat drumming provide a soft landing for Pundt's fragile vocals. "Pensacola" is a slice of southern-hospitality, served straight from Deerhunter's unorthodox, noisy kitchen. Josh McKay's bass and Cox's percussion pump blood through it and provide bouncy buoyancy for the prose. Cox's character yearns to leave behind an undesirable home life, even for the unlikely haven of Pensacola, Florida. The rhythm section shines again in the following piece, "Dream Captain", which details another account of a caged bird looking for escape. It's clear by now that Cox has projected the specifications of the personal prison he called home onto the face of the album. Here, he longs for a manifested fantasy skipper to whisk him away from a terrible place in a hopeless time. Sixth track, "Blue Agent", unfurls as a prickly yet magnetic testimony of a friendship gone awry, devolving into quiet resentment. Cox brags, "If you ever need to talk, I won't be around; If you ever need to fight for life, I'll make no sound." The song brandishes cold and calculated malice masquerading as rhythmic curiosity, encapsulating Monomania's essence.
The second half of the record commences with the cold guitar line that highlights "T.H.M", a ghostly track that touches upon the suicide of Cox's younger brother. Hauntingly profound, the poetry recounts early morning phone calls from the dead and failed attempts at brotherly course correction. Josh McKay's bass rests beneath like an ankle-high fog as the room's temperature takes a dive. Cox laments, "My head was like a wound when they called me and said, It's happened much too soon". Eighth track, "Sleepwalking" sports chugging inertia with Moses Archuleta's drums powering a piece that deals with the removal of rose-colored glasses. A union is coming apart due to a bittersweet epiphany as Cox explains, "Can't you see, we've grown apart now." It is, without a second notion, the rhythmic jewel of Monomania. "Back to the Middle" functions as an epilogue of sorts for "Sleepwalking". The production here is translucent in comparison to the rest of the record, furthering the theme of clarity of recollection. Organ passages tether the verses together to give the track flavor amidst the straight-forward melodic approach. The title track screeches as it shakes your hand, assuring that no other is more fit to bear the album's namesake. The song is a volcano of frustration, touching on themes of unfulfilled sexuality and uncompromising, emotional resolve. Cox remains romantically stymied but staunchly unwilling to accommodate to shallow expectations. "There is a man; There is a mystery whore and in my dying days I could never be sure," Cox declares. Repeated utterances of "Monomania" lead us out with a double act of definition and implementation. Sonically, the track is the most visceral of the record. "Nitebike" picks up the pieces of previous fury with a literal recording of a modest motorcycle. The song itself, which shines light on Cox's complicated youth, consists of just Bradford and an acoustic guitar. The ruminative space that "Nitebike" occupies calms the wounds left in "Monomania's" wake. It's a highly shaded anecdote that inhabits a peculiar but welcomed space. On the final track, "Punk (La Vie Antérieure)" employs hypnotic wordplay alongside dizzying psychedelics to create one of the album's most sensory experiences. "Punk" traverses ideas of self-identity and how fruitless it can be to fit a round peg in a square hole. The band double up on bass duty here, ensuring a muggy undertone to Cox's lyrics. "Punk" guides the album to its conclusion in a catchy and clever fashion.
The labyrinthian mosaic being weaved by the Atlanta outfit is still being constructed. Like an evolving amoeba, Deerhunter often deconstruct and rebuild sonically in order to please themselves. There's no quaking, self-serving desire to conform in fear of being left behind, a tactic that many of their peers would employ. This unit had already survived deaths, multiple label alterations and hiatuses all while boasting one of modern music's most dependable discographies. Cox has long lambasted the selection of the band's namesake, rejecting any connotations or discussions it may inspire. The name simply has no significance, save for a mark of consistent quality. However, it's Cox's very rejection that carries the utmost significance, indicating an endless desire to push boundaries and avoid creative complacency. Despite Monomania being a voracious account of a difficult time, repeated ingenuity is not something Deerhunter struggles to achieve. With the treasure trove that is the band's criterion, others would likely point to earlier triumphs like Halcyon Digest or Microcastle as potential crown jewels. However, like the band's purposeful ability to conceal and distance itself away from a steadily hollowing indie scene, Monomania is a proper masterpiece hiding in plain sight. They say still waters run deep and that's true of human beings, but in Deerhunter's case, their most raucous effort surely has the most to say.
"Your bones they were always, they were always in my way
The fire finds a way to completely erase
I followed you out
You threw up and you complained
And I bide my time, and I hide my glory away
In the basement room where you used to kneel and pray"
-Blue Agent
Standout Tracks:
1. Sleepwalking
2. T.H.M
3. Pensacola
90 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
2013
Appears in:
Rank Score:
877
Rank in 2013:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
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89.6
[First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
2010
Appears in:
Rank Score:
373
Rank in 2010:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
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89.5
[First added to this chart: 10/30/2020]
Year of Release:
2013
Appears in:
Rank Score:
8,331
Rank in 2013:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
89.4
[First added to this chart: 02/29/2024]
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88.7
[First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
2016
Appears in:
Rank Score:
17,121
Rank in 2016:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
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88.6
[First added to this chart: 06/11/2020]
Year of Release:
2010
Appears in:
Rank Score:
4,128
Rank in 2010:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
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The story goes that Danny Brown blew about $70,000 dollars on sampling rights for his 2016 magnum opus, 'Atrocity Exhibition'. The Detroit native longed to make something enduring and uses time as his analogy. Brown says, "I wanna make timeless stuff, so you're gonna have to spend a couple dollars; You could have a Rolex or you can have a Swatch." The rapper's fourth studio effort employs samples from Cut Hands, Giovanni Cristiani, Guru Guru and Pink Floyd's Nick Mason to name a few. Not conventional sources by any means but it goes without saying that Brown, fitted with an undeniably distinct ear, puts them to good use. It's safe to say it was money well spent. Perhaps the most noticeable influence lies with the album's namesake. Beyond just sharing monikers, the prose between Brown's monument and Joy Division's 1980 swan song, 'Closer', share many fatalistic tendencies, such as nihilism and desperation. 'Closer' itself was a outstretched hand, albeit a more subdued one. Curtis' demons were well documented and Brown's are now public knowledge as well. Many say that the record is a cry for help or a scathing, uncompromising self-critique. However, it's a sure bet that the architect of the best hip-hop album of the decade said it best, "This is Danny Brown." Despite a disposition for sonic and thematic isolation, Brown is accompanied by some of hip-hop's most forward-thinking artisans. Names like Kendrick Lamar, Ab-Soul and Earl Sweatshirt put their heads together to aid Brown's manic, unique vision on 'Really Doe', the album's final single. However, at the end of the day, this is Danny's show through and through and it's fair to say that his creative stamp riddles the track list. The end result is a Danny Brown that produces formless, proudly unorthodox and honest parables. It's a task that the majority of MCs misfire on, or reduce to cliché, but Brown's journey of emotional examination and detoxification has put him among rap's elite.
The LP is a revolving, reoccurring nightmare of self-inflicted wounds to which there is no detectable method of course correction. Track one, 'Downward Spiral', creates a tangible atmosphere of dread and paranoia coupled with drum hits that narrowly tether Brown's rhymes together. The song feels like it could unravel at any given moment, expertly mirroring its narrator. Periodic, gleaming guitar is the ray of sunshine that provides brief respite. Even that feels diluted by the blackout curtains of Brown's poetry. He remarks, "Been grinding on my teeth so long it's swelling up my jaw, Nothing on but my bathrobe and pinky ring, Your worst nightmare for me is a normal dream." It's a viscous, slow-moving start to the LP that subverts expectation and prepares the palette for a serving of experimental hip-hop. Subsequent track, 'Tell Me What I Don't Know' eschews the use of Danny's routinely coarse cadence in favor of a baritone, subdued vocal approach. Synth injections of bass that wouldn't be out of place within a 1970's Giallo picture lower the track into a dark abyss as Brown hastily raps above it. Third track, 'Rolling Stone', is as languid as the record gets, with the presence of Petite Noir creating a soothing atmosphere amidst an ocean of prose which resembles a fiery shipwreck. Brown declares, "Bought a nightmare, sold a dream, happiness went upstream, blame myself, I had no control, now I'm living with no soul." Fourth Track, 'Really Doe', is a hip-hop super collaboration of epic proportions as a baton passes from verse to verse ushered by traditional, yet hard-hitting production. Earl Sweatshirt's final verse is an apropos coda to the track, as he himself would embrace aural reinvention. Earl professes, "You've been the same motherfucker since 2001; Well it's the left-handed shooter, Kyle Lowry the pump, I'm at your house like, "Why you got your couch on my Chucks?" 'Really Doe' is a rap alliance deftly done and supremely executed.
Fifth cut, 'Lost', re-bathes the LP in its elixir of overt abnormality. Playa Haze's production is the crown jewel on the track, interweaving elements of 'Flame of Love' performed by Bai Guang that behave like a murmuring, beating heart pumping blood through the beats. It remains one of the album's most creative, earworm-inducing moments, toting the line between buoyant hip-hop banger and bleak, introspective fever dream. The record's cornerstone, 'Ain't It Funny', embodies the spirit of 'Atrocity' better than any, pulsating with brass lungs reminiscent of the sonic motifs of the reformed Swans records of the 2010's. 'Ain't It Funny' is crunchy, coarse and agitated like a charging rhinoceros. Brown laments, "I can sell honey to a bee, in the fall time make trees take back they leaves; Octopus in a straight jacket, savage with bad habits, broke serving fiends, got rich became an addict." The track lives as the lynchpin for the thematic DNA of the record while flourishing the finest production and lyrical flexibility present within its 15 songs. Side two commences with 'White Lines', a skittering, subterranean excursion that outlines the subject's love/hate relationship with cocaine. Sonically, it's dingy, unfettered and unwashed. It acts as a descent down a staircase by way of inebriated stumbles, punctuated by pervasive, staccato twinkling. Here, glorification and degradation flow equally, contributing to an album of faux emotional highs and rock-bottom lows. Twelfth track, 'When It Rain', is undoubtedly the most aggressive of 'Atrocity's' offerings, detailing the pugnacious nature of his hometown of Detroit and it's clear how his surroundings helped carve out the motifs of the record. Bass returns in a big way on the track with a Delia Derbyshire sample, 'Pot Au Feu', used to genius effect in order to conjure an atmosphere of fear where safety is far from reach. Brown concurrently creates a sense of horror from manning the street corners of his origin while expressing pride in being a product of it and having survived its urban hazards. Brown explains, "Cause everybody hungry in them streets, nigga rob ya grandma for something to eat; Know it's fucked up, that's how it be growing up living everyday in the D; And it don't seem like shit gon' change; No time soon in the City of Boom, doomed from the time we emerged from the womb." Danny skillfully paints a picture of nurture at the hands of a city by linking together moments that bred tomorrow's scars but are recollected by way of hazy dreams.
Some MCs never find a quintessential vehicle for their voice, sonically or thematically. Danny Brown had to make friends with vulnerability and stare death in the face in order for 'Atrocity Exhibition' to materialize. Hip-Hop is littered with examples of exuberant characters seemingly fitted with armor invulnerable to breakage. Brown proudly displays his imperfections here, without the need for exaggeration. His voice itself is the finest metaphor for his approach to his fourth record. It's unconventional, grating and even a bit ugly, however, it's what draws you in. It's initial homeliness gives way to pride-swallowing enjoyment with Danny's self-exposure opening the floodgates to an approach that champions the phrase "all bets are off". Unconventionality is beautiful, the unorthodox is tradition and staccato sounds unmistakably like legato. On 'Atrocity Exhibition', Brown crafts a visage of himself as a Detroit-based King Midas, saddled with a fortune of alcohol, stimulants and women in lieu of gold. He doesn't do this to inspire envy or raise street-cred as seen in other rap symphonies. Rather, as an act of confession in an attempt to pull his own soul from the fiery wreck of his crumbling, metropolitan castle. He just so happened unlock his artistic potential and produce a hip-hop masterpiece in the process. The Devil went down to Motown and lost. I guess this means Danny's salvation was a success.
"Say ya need to slow down
Cause you feel yourself crashing
Staring in the devil face
But ya can’t stop laughing
Staring in the devil face
But ya can't stop laughing."
-Ain't It Funny
Standout Tracks:
1. Ain't It Funny
2. Really Doe
3. When It Rain
88.6 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
The LP is a revolving, reoccurring nightmare of self-inflicted wounds to which there is no detectable method of course correction. Track one, 'Downward Spiral', creates a tangible atmosphere of dread and paranoia coupled with drum hits that narrowly tether Brown's rhymes together. The song feels like it could unravel at any given moment, expertly mirroring its narrator. Periodic, gleaming guitar is the ray of sunshine that provides brief respite. Even that feels diluted by the blackout curtains of Brown's poetry. He remarks, "Been grinding on my teeth so long it's swelling up my jaw, Nothing on but my bathrobe and pinky ring, Your worst nightmare for me is a normal dream." It's a viscous, slow-moving start to the LP that subverts expectation and prepares the palette for a serving of experimental hip-hop. Subsequent track, 'Tell Me What I Don't Know' eschews the use of Danny's routinely coarse cadence in favor of a baritone, subdued vocal approach. Synth injections of bass that wouldn't be out of place within a 1970's Giallo picture lower the track into a dark abyss as Brown hastily raps above it. Third track, 'Rolling Stone', is as languid as the record gets, with the presence of Petite Noir creating a soothing atmosphere amidst an ocean of prose which resembles a fiery shipwreck. Brown declares, "Bought a nightmare, sold a dream, happiness went upstream, blame myself, I had no control, now I'm living with no soul." Fourth Track, 'Really Doe', is a hip-hop super collaboration of epic proportions as a baton passes from verse to verse ushered by traditional, yet hard-hitting production. Earl Sweatshirt's final verse is an apropos coda to the track, as he himself would embrace aural reinvention. Earl professes, "You've been the same motherfucker since 2001; Well it's the left-handed shooter, Kyle Lowry the pump, I'm at your house like, "Why you got your couch on my Chucks?" 'Really Doe' is a rap alliance deftly done and supremely executed.
Fifth cut, 'Lost', re-bathes the LP in its elixir of overt abnormality. Playa Haze's production is the crown jewel on the track, interweaving elements of 'Flame of Love' performed by Bai Guang that behave like a murmuring, beating heart pumping blood through the beats. It remains one of the album's most creative, earworm-inducing moments, toting the line between buoyant hip-hop banger and bleak, introspective fever dream. The record's cornerstone, 'Ain't It Funny', embodies the spirit of 'Atrocity' better than any, pulsating with brass lungs reminiscent of the sonic motifs of the reformed Swans records of the 2010's. 'Ain't It Funny' is crunchy, coarse and agitated like a charging rhinoceros. Brown laments, "I can sell honey to a bee, in the fall time make trees take back they leaves; Octopus in a straight jacket, savage with bad habits, broke serving fiends, got rich became an addict." The track lives as the lynchpin for the thematic DNA of the record while flourishing the finest production and lyrical flexibility present within its 15 songs. Side two commences with 'White Lines', a skittering, subterranean excursion that outlines the subject's love/hate relationship with cocaine. Sonically, it's dingy, unfettered and unwashed. It acts as a descent down a staircase by way of inebriated stumbles, punctuated by pervasive, staccato twinkling. Here, glorification and degradation flow equally, contributing to an album of faux emotional highs and rock-bottom lows. Twelfth track, 'When It Rain', is undoubtedly the most aggressive of 'Atrocity's' offerings, detailing the pugnacious nature of his hometown of Detroit and it's clear how his surroundings helped carve out the motifs of the record. Bass returns in a big way on the track with a Delia Derbyshire sample, 'Pot Au Feu', used to genius effect in order to conjure an atmosphere of fear where safety is far from reach. Brown concurrently creates a sense of horror from manning the street corners of his origin while expressing pride in being a product of it and having survived its urban hazards. Brown explains, "Cause everybody hungry in them streets, nigga rob ya grandma for something to eat; Know it's fucked up, that's how it be growing up living everyday in the D; And it don't seem like shit gon' change; No time soon in the City of Boom, doomed from the time we emerged from the womb." Danny skillfully paints a picture of nurture at the hands of a city by linking together moments that bred tomorrow's scars but are recollected by way of hazy dreams.
Some MCs never find a quintessential vehicle for their voice, sonically or thematically. Danny Brown had to make friends with vulnerability and stare death in the face in order for 'Atrocity Exhibition' to materialize. Hip-Hop is littered with examples of exuberant characters seemingly fitted with armor invulnerable to breakage. Brown proudly displays his imperfections here, without the need for exaggeration. His voice itself is the finest metaphor for his approach to his fourth record. It's unconventional, grating and even a bit ugly, however, it's what draws you in. It's initial homeliness gives way to pride-swallowing enjoyment with Danny's self-exposure opening the floodgates to an approach that champions the phrase "all bets are off". Unconventionality is beautiful, the unorthodox is tradition and staccato sounds unmistakably like legato. On 'Atrocity Exhibition', Brown crafts a visage of himself as a Detroit-based King Midas, saddled with a fortune of alcohol, stimulants and women in lieu of gold. He doesn't do this to inspire envy or raise street-cred as seen in other rap symphonies. Rather, as an act of confession in an attempt to pull his own soul from the fiery wreck of his crumbling, metropolitan castle. He just so happened unlock his artistic potential and produce a hip-hop masterpiece in the process. The Devil went down to Motown and lost. I guess this means Danny's salvation was a success.
"Say ya need to slow down
Cause you feel yourself crashing
Staring in the devil face
But ya can’t stop laughing
Staring in the devil face
But ya can't stop laughing."
-Ain't It Funny
Standout Tracks:
1. Ain't It Funny
2. Really Doe
3. When It Rain
88.6 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
2016
Appears in:
Rank Score:
6,003
Rank in 2016:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
88.4
[First added to this chart: 05/24/2020]
Year of Release:
2015
Appears in:
Rank Score:
2,305
Rank in 2015:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Buy album
- #Sponsored
Australia's own Kevin Parker is one of modern music's preeminent figures and most forward-thinking creators. His creativity and artistic foresight has helped partially reinvigorate a stagnant rock industry which has seen itself surpassed by hip-hop in recent years. He burst on the scene with 2010's Innerspeaker, a trippy, rainbow-colored interpretation of contemporary psychedelia. His layered, consummate sonic textures earned him widespread acclaim. He then upped the ante on 2012's Lonerism, a richer, more refined collection of the motifs found on Innerspeaker. His vocals channeled John Lennon on tracks like Sun's Coming Up and his guitar-propelled breakdowns were awe-inspiring on tracks like Keep on Lying. Lonerism was even more heavily lauded and alternative rock was ready to crown its newest talisman. Then Kevin did what every great artist does. He made a hard left turn. 2015 marked the arrival of his third studio album, Currents, a record bubbling with pop textures, emphasis on airy synth work and clearer production. He effortlessly repackaged his sound and reinvented his approach as an artist and the endgame resulted in his most luscious, vibrant record to date. Currents is a synth-pop symphony which made fellow genre mates look like neophytes noodling around with Casio keyboards in 6th grade music class.
The record begins emphatically with the anthemic, Let It Happen. The track buzzes into focus as synth walls hiss while fuzzed out beats linger behind. Parker concludes, "All this running around, trying to cover my shadow; an ocean growing inside, all the others seem shallow." The track reaches a midpoint climax where it undergoes stylized skips as string-like synth tones swell concurrently. Let It Happen is just as springy as it is languid, flowing out without any resistance, avoiding any sonic intrusion. It's a shot to the arm that kicks the album into gear and remains one of Parker's finest achievements. Brief interlude, Nangs, acts as a quasi-comedown but while also turning up the thematic dissatisfaction as Parker croons (faintly), "But is there something more than that?" The album resuscitates with third track, The Moment. The song carries more girth as the bass takes a more noticeable role in the fray. It's also marked by an uptick in the quality of its poetry. Parker accepts, "In the end, it's stronger than I know how to be and I can't just spend my whole lifetime wondering; I fell in love with the sound of my heels on the wooden floor; I don't want our footsteps to be silent anymore." The track moves at a breakneck pace despite lasting over four minutes. Another highlight of danceable vitality delivered with punchy intensity. Currents' second masterpiece is unveiled in the form of fourth track, Yes I'm Changing. The song unfurls with spectral delicacy, creating the illusion of lying face up on a raft, drifting down a boundless river. The percussion structure here is caressing but never overbearing and it galvanizes the song with a steady heartbeat. Parker's maturation is evident on the track as he declares, "And I can't always hide away, curse indulgence and despise the fame; there's a world out there and it's calling my name and it's calling yours too." Parker has shed the shackles of his pre-disposition to avoid incorporating new musical ideas and has opted to grow as an artist and a person. He's inviting you to grow with him. Yes I'm Changing then majestically twinkles out of your reach. A beautiful meditation.
Fifth track, Eventually, journals a deteriorating relationship, characterized by peaks and valleys, both in metaphor and musicality. Eventually launches with authoritative guitar thwacks that contrast the more despondent moments of sound where Parker elegizes, "Wish I could turn you back into a stranger; 'cause if I was never in your life, you wouldn't have to change it." The back half is markedly wondrous as a fizzing synth alternates between both audio channels signifying a situation spiraling out of control. Parker's creative visions have never been more realized and clearly communicated. Sixth track, Gossip, splits the album in two as it transports the listener through osmosis with an aqueous production style. Shortly after, The Less I Know the Better gives us the most clearly-defined pop song on the record. Its tempo is consistent, carrying DNA from The Moment in terms of its percussive principles. Failing romantic relations once again take center stage as Parker laments his inclusion within a love triangle. He details, "I was doing fine without ya till I saw your face, now I can't erase; giving in to all his bullshit, is this what you want; is this who you are?" The song is reinforced by a boisterous guitar riff that forms a rib cage in which to encase the emotional synth chimes. It's both melancholic and madcap in equal measure. Past Life represents the only outright miss on the album, incorporating a distorted spoken word piece awash with Parker's epic, yet marooned synth explosions. Past Life seems more like an unpolished proposition rather than a finished track. It slightly disturbs the flow of the LP but what's shaky for Kevin Parker is another artist's treasure. Disciples starts as a short burst of lo-fi funk, a concept that calls back to the guitar-driven work of Innerspeaker. The song then clears, carving a path for Parker's crystalline vocals. The track is surely a microcosm for the artistic motivations presented on the album.
Ten spot, Cause I'm a Man, is a dissertation that outlines the deficiencies that plague the male sex. Kevin provides his strongest vocal outing on the track, howling apologetically as he slices through his electric ozone. He croons, "Cause I'm a man, woman; don't always think before I do; cause I'm a man, woman; that's the only answer I've got for you." It stands as one of the most implicit moments of humor on Currents. Reality in Motion follows and reclaims your attention harboring all things zealous. It's another example of Parker's gravitational pull to the percussive on the LP as an infectious drum texture spirals throughout. Love/Paranoia is another doleful anecdote à la Eventually. Conclusively, Parker pledges a return to form instead of flying the white flag as he did on Eventually. The second half of the track hovers with an icy synth backing reminiscent of early New Order. The swan song, New Person, Same Old Mistakes, is a bonafide belter as chest felt bass swaggers proudly. Parker seems to uncork the might of his arsenal on the track, as it represents the most ambitious cut since Let It Happen. Kevin celebrates, "Finally taking flight; I know you don't think it's right; I know that you think it's fake; maybe fake's what I like." At the finale, a synth bridge seems to progress inversely before the Aussie puts an end to it with the bombastic refrain. It's a sublime way to conclude the cosmic record.
With Currents, Kevin Parker didn't just craft top notch pop music, he rearranged its pieces in order to shape something superior altogether. Currents represents pop's future and all the things the genre could be if properly upheaved. The fledgeling genius knows that the only way to create change is from within, and he's certainly set a precedent with his third LP by looking within himself and pushing multiple boundaries. By transversing electronic soundscapes, turning over new leaves while reflecting on old ones, Parker has emphatically expanded his reach and influence. His much-awaited follow up, 2020's The Slow Rush is another feather in his cap but 2015's Currents is his chef-d'oeuvre. It's an LP that assuredly livens up any college party while simultaneously prompting its guests to contemplate their ever-murky futures.
"Man, I know that it's hard to digest,
But maybe your story ain't so different from the rest,
And I know it seems wrong to accept
But you've got your demons, and she's got her regrets."
-New Person/Same Old Mistakes
Standout Tracks:
1. Let It Happen
2. Yes I'm Changing
3. New Person/Same Old Mistakes
88.3 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
The record begins emphatically with the anthemic, Let It Happen. The track buzzes into focus as synth walls hiss while fuzzed out beats linger behind. Parker concludes, "All this running around, trying to cover my shadow; an ocean growing inside, all the others seem shallow." The track reaches a midpoint climax where it undergoes stylized skips as string-like synth tones swell concurrently. Let It Happen is just as springy as it is languid, flowing out without any resistance, avoiding any sonic intrusion. It's a shot to the arm that kicks the album into gear and remains one of Parker's finest achievements. Brief interlude, Nangs, acts as a quasi-comedown but while also turning up the thematic dissatisfaction as Parker croons (faintly), "But is there something more than that?" The album resuscitates with third track, The Moment. The song carries more girth as the bass takes a more noticeable role in the fray. It's also marked by an uptick in the quality of its poetry. Parker accepts, "In the end, it's stronger than I know how to be and I can't just spend my whole lifetime wondering; I fell in love with the sound of my heels on the wooden floor; I don't want our footsteps to be silent anymore." The track moves at a breakneck pace despite lasting over four minutes. Another highlight of danceable vitality delivered with punchy intensity. Currents' second masterpiece is unveiled in the form of fourth track, Yes I'm Changing. The song unfurls with spectral delicacy, creating the illusion of lying face up on a raft, drifting down a boundless river. The percussion structure here is caressing but never overbearing and it galvanizes the song with a steady heartbeat. Parker's maturation is evident on the track as he declares, "And I can't always hide away, curse indulgence and despise the fame; there's a world out there and it's calling my name and it's calling yours too." Parker has shed the shackles of his pre-disposition to avoid incorporating new musical ideas and has opted to grow as an artist and a person. He's inviting you to grow with him. Yes I'm Changing then majestically twinkles out of your reach. A beautiful meditation.
Fifth track, Eventually, journals a deteriorating relationship, characterized by peaks and valleys, both in metaphor and musicality. Eventually launches with authoritative guitar thwacks that contrast the more despondent moments of sound where Parker elegizes, "Wish I could turn you back into a stranger; 'cause if I was never in your life, you wouldn't have to change it." The back half is markedly wondrous as a fizzing synth alternates between both audio channels signifying a situation spiraling out of control. Parker's creative visions have never been more realized and clearly communicated. Sixth track, Gossip, splits the album in two as it transports the listener through osmosis with an aqueous production style. Shortly after, The Less I Know the Better gives us the most clearly-defined pop song on the record. Its tempo is consistent, carrying DNA from The Moment in terms of its percussive principles. Failing romantic relations once again take center stage as Parker laments his inclusion within a love triangle. He details, "I was doing fine without ya till I saw your face, now I can't erase; giving in to all his bullshit, is this what you want; is this who you are?" The song is reinforced by a boisterous guitar riff that forms a rib cage in which to encase the emotional synth chimes. It's both melancholic and madcap in equal measure. Past Life represents the only outright miss on the album, incorporating a distorted spoken word piece awash with Parker's epic, yet marooned synth explosions. Past Life seems more like an unpolished proposition rather than a finished track. It slightly disturbs the flow of the LP but what's shaky for Kevin Parker is another artist's treasure. Disciples starts as a short burst of lo-fi funk, a concept that calls back to the guitar-driven work of Innerspeaker. The song then clears, carving a path for Parker's crystalline vocals. The track is surely a microcosm for the artistic motivations presented on the album.
Ten spot, Cause I'm a Man, is a dissertation that outlines the deficiencies that plague the male sex. Kevin provides his strongest vocal outing on the track, howling apologetically as he slices through his electric ozone. He croons, "Cause I'm a man, woman; don't always think before I do; cause I'm a man, woman; that's the only answer I've got for you." It stands as one of the most implicit moments of humor on Currents. Reality in Motion follows and reclaims your attention harboring all things zealous. It's another example of Parker's gravitational pull to the percussive on the LP as an infectious drum texture spirals throughout. Love/Paranoia is another doleful anecdote à la Eventually. Conclusively, Parker pledges a return to form instead of flying the white flag as he did on Eventually. The second half of the track hovers with an icy synth backing reminiscent of early New Order. The swan song, New Person, Same Old Mistakes, is a bonafide belter as chest felt bass swaggers proudly. Parker seems to uncork the might of his arsenal on the track, as it represents the most ambitious cut since Let It Happen. Kevin celebrates, "Finally taking flight; I know you don't think it's right; I know that you think it's fake; maybe fake's what I like." At the finale, a synth bridge seems to progress inversely before the Aussie puts an end to it with the bombastic refrain. It's a sublime way to conclude the cosmic record.
With Currents, Kevin Parker didn't just craft top notch pop music, he rearranged its pieces in order to shape something superior altogether. Currents represents pop's future and all the things the genre could be if properly upheaved. The fledgeling genius knows that the only way to create change is from within, and he's certainly set a precedent with his third LP by looking within himself and pushing multiple boundaries. By transversing electronic soundscapes, turning over new leaves while reflecting on old ones, Parker has emphatically expanded his reach and influence. His much-awaited follow up, 2020's The Slow Rush is another feather in his cap but 2015's Currents is his chef-d'oeuvre. It's an LP that assuredly livens up any college party while simultaneously prompting its guests to contemplate their ever-murky futures.
"Man, I know that it's hard to digest,
But maybe your story ain't so different from the rest,
And I know it seems wrong to accept
But you've got your demons, and she's got her regrets."
-New Person/Same Old Mistakes
Standout Tracks:
1. Let It Happen
2. Yes I'm Changing
3. New Person/Same Old Mistakes
88.3 [First added to this chart: 04/25/2020]
Year of Release:
2015
Appears in:
Rank Score:
10,568
Rank in 2015:
Rank in 2010s:
Overall Rank:
Average Rating:
Comments:
Total albums: 100. Page 2 of 10
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Top 100 Music Albums of the 2010s composition
| Year | Albums | % | |
|---|---|---|---|
 |
 |
|
|
| 2010 | 15 | 15% | |
| 2011 | 10 | 10% | |
| 2012 | 9 | 9% | |
| 2013 | 12 | 12% | |
| 2014 | 7 | 7% | |
| 2015 | 15 | 15% | |
| 2016 | 11 | 11% | |
| 2017 | 6 | 6% | |
| 2018 | 7 | 7% | |
| 2019 | 8 | 8% |
| Artist | Albums | % | |
|---|---|---|---|
|
|
 |
|
|
| Swans | 8 | 8% | |
| The National | 4 | 4% | |
| Beach House | 4 | 4% | |
| Deerhunter | 4 | 4% | |
| Tame Impala | 3 | 3% | |
| Death Grips | 3 | 3% | |
| Run The Jewels | 3 | 3% | |
| Show all | |||
Top 100 Music Albums of the 2010s chart changes
| Biggest climbers |
|---|
| Up 1 from 91st to 90th The Gate by Swans |
| Up 1 from 90th to 89th Leaving Meaning. by Swans |
| Up 1 from 89th to 88th Apparitional by Blitzkid |
| Biggest fallers |
|---|
| Down 8 from 83rd to 91st Father Of The Bride by Vampire Weekend |
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DriftingOrpheus (2024)Top 100 Music Albums of the 2010s ratings
90/100 (from 5 votes)
where:
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N.B. The average rating for this chart will not be reliable as it has been rated very few times.
Showing all 5 ratings for this chart.
| Rating | Date updated | Member | Chart ratings | Avg. chart rating |
|---|---|---|---|---|
 100/100  | 10/08/2021 13:17 | tanman089 | | 100/100 |
| 100/100 | 07/20/2021 15:01 |  Larcx13 | | 86/100 |
| 100/100 | 04/28/2021 19:06 |  Rhyner | | 99/100 |
| 100/100 | 11/08/2020 23:16 | DJENNY | | 100/100 |
| 95/100 | 10/22/2020 01:20 | leniad | | 85/100 |
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