Every now and then I try to do a Topsters. Each time I make an attempt, it gets harder; the list of perfect albums only grows as I remember or discover music. The first time I did it, in 2019, I gave myself a strict time limit because I knew that I could agonize over the ordering of the last five or so slots forever. It came out looking like this:
There are some obvious omissions and oversights, right off the bat: I hadn’t discovered that Wilco is my favorite band, Punisher (2020) wasn’t out yet, I don’t really listen to that Car Seat Headrest album anymore. I think I would shuffle a few records in the top ten to reflect what I actually seek out regularly; although I love Emotion (2017) with my whole heart, I don’t often find myself in the perfect mood for a pop escapade.
I tried again at the beginning the pandemic, in the strange plethora of free time. I made some improvements: I Was Born Swimming (2020) appears, although not high enough, same goes for Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002). The last three rows are a bit arbitrary, although all the records pictured here are great.
I think a lot of my current lineup would be music from the last three years, even though I know that my sensibilities will change again. So many albums that have really changed me happen to have come out recently, perhaps if only because I’m more open to being changed. Then again, in some ways, I am very much still the same as my teenage self, reflected in the the strong continuities amongst the small but critical shifts or additions.
I did get one thing very right: Choose Your Weapon (2015) is a perfect album. I don’t listen to it very often, but when I do I remember that it is a work of capital-A-Art, a totally cohesive record unlike anything else made before or since. They’re a band that, like Vulfpeck and Lake Street Dive, all of my friends universally adore, regardless of their typical music taste. I don’t make the rules—Hiatus Kaiyote is just good.
The band is originally from Melbourne, Australia. They exist in the space between soul and jazz and electronic music, in a sliver of that multi-dimensional venn diagram that is seemingly single occupancy. They only have three albums, but each contains a whole world of fascinating, original sound, a cohesive era of work. The newest record came after six years of earned silence—if I released Choose Your Weapon, I might just decide to quit while I’m ahead—and it explores an entirely new space, one that they’ve carved out themselves. It is deeply captivating to watch a band iterate and improve when the only competition is internal.
For so many reasons that I simply cannot explain due to my lack of music theory knowledge—this deficiency is going to be a theme in this issue, bear with me—the song on this playlist is my favorite of theirs:
In 2017 Nai Palm released a solo version of “Molasses” that highlights the complexity of her instrumental contributions to the group. She’s credited for guitar on Needle Paw (2017) and played most of the Hiatus Kaiyote show that I saw last week. She can shred while riffing with almost scary precision, landing momentarily in the honey-smooth center of every note before skipping to the next. Not only is she a profoundly gifted musician, but she performs with such joy; she smiled throughout at her band and her interludes between songs included a lot of thanks and check-ins with the audience.
I was already thinking of writing about this playlist, and then the opener for the show coincidentally covered a few Stevie Wonder songs. Stevie Wonder is an artist whose discography I often find difficult to playlist (yes, I’m using playlist as a verb), but to which I return consistently. I can logically follow arguments that Talking Book (1972) or Innervisions (1973) are the best Stevie Wonder albums, but Songs in the Key of Life (1976) holds a special place in my heart, as well as in the larger cultural consciousness. It marks his triumphant return to music after announcing his retirement in 1975 and is widely regarded as the cornerstone of his run of hit records. It is his third album in a row to win Album of the Year, making him the only artist ever to win for three consecutive records. It features classics such as “Sir Duke” and “Isn’t She Lovely,” but my personal favorite song is “As:”
Just as time knew to move on since the beginning
And the seasons know exactly when to change
Just as kindness knows no shame
Know through all your joy and pain
That I'll be loving you always
“As” has some of the most interesting changes ever featured in popular music. This PhD candidate did Schenkerian reductive analysis on Stevie Wonder’s work, including this album, that explains the suspensions and extensions that make this song so compelling. I honestly cannot understand most of the paper, but I deeply respect the premise. If anyone who reads this newsletter can explain why “As” is so good, I’m begging you to do so in the comments.
I’m not even going to try with Esperanza Spalding, who makes music so complex and jazz-oriented that I give up understanding immediately and just lean into how good it feels. Esperanza is famous for playing bass and singing at the same time, which is deeply impressive and a little spooky; it’s almost as if the bass is an extension of her voice, or vice versa. I love “Judas” because of the breaks, the tight background harmonies, her emotional but precise voice, the irresistibly propelling form.
My analysis doesn’t reach much further than those notes, but I appreciate this kind of music in a way that transcends reasoning. I’m trying to accept that I don’t have to get it to love it, that although I can’t say that I understand some of the music on my Topsters, it has shaped me nonetheless. This playlist is a celebration of that pursuit of a good feeling, gratitude for the sounds that bring us joy.
I did not know Topsters was an app. Your choices are smart and sophisticated. I love your wide-ranging taste, and skillful interpretations of both albums and songs.
Lol. Oh man, Topsters looks like the sort of rabbit hole I'll never come out of. I'll have to try it anyway!