Henry's top albums of 2020 blog

This year I’ve had a lot of time on my hands. Back in July, I decided to listen to a new album every day. I tried to ensure a mixture of genres and eras, and make sure I was listening to voices outside the straight, white male mainstream. As of typing, I’ve managed to check out about 191 albums. It's also been part of my project to write a book about the protest music of the 2010s.

There’s no doubt that the COVID-19 pandemic has stopped bands writing, rehearsing and recording. And there’s no shame for artists unable to be artists in these difficult times. There has been a good wodge of new music though, and some years I post my top albums list.

This year I’ve needed anger and hope more than ever. I’ve been feeling thin. For every surge forward the Black Lives Matter and anti-racism movements make, it feels the Hard Right radicalise more people against an ‘anti-woke’ agenda. The military gets another wad of money while poor children starve. Brexit has made Far Right policies mainstream, and the climate chaos is just around the corner. Still, there’s been some solid musical bangers this year.

If you want anger, from across the pond my top rage-inducing punk album is War On Women’s Wonderful Hell. The album is loaded with righteous anger through acerbic lyrics. The slicing post-hardcore guitar underpin a sharp intersectionality through ‘This Stolen Land’ and ‘Milk and Blood’. A lot of punk can feel timeless, but I think the power of Wonderful Hell is it feels so rooted in 2020, a determined energy from years under Trump’s administration and still riding the explosion of #MeToo and #TimesUp. And born from DIY and grassroots acrtivism. At a time when the alt-right’s voice is amplified, Wonderful Hell’s noise feels like it fills every corner of a room.

Other notable fist-shaking albums include the scathing Growth (Screaming Toenail), the unapologetic Royal Disruptor (Nekra), the all-out assault of We Are Knife Club (Knife Club) and the filthy ska-punk of Harijin’s self-titled debut. I discovered the immediacy of Seamless by Pardon Us, the restlessness of Svalbard’s When I Die, Will I Get Better and the call-to-armness of Svetlanas’ Disco Sucks. Bad Luck by Answering Machine is a indie-pop-punk booty shuffling-inducer. I love Jeff Rosenstock’s No Dream, which sounds like someone having a panic attack during a jam session. I Am Moron is The Lovely Eggs’ latest trippy North West jangle. I enjoyed Billy Nomates’ low-fi, bedroomcore self-titled debut, and although IDLES’ Ultra Mono is their weakest release, it’s still biting and fun. We Fight by Fistymuffs is a rough and raw stomp of an EP. Revolution Spring by Suicide Machines is a good listen if you want a bolt of anger, whilst Peaceful as Hell by Black Dresses is as distrubring as it is rewarding. Untenable (Bad Moves) is a delightful indie-punk-pop bop with the absolute anthem ‘Party With The Kids Who Wanna Part With You’. Telling Truths, Breaking Ties by Millie Manders and The Shutup delivers upbeatness in spades. As we bid farewell to Toots Hibbet of Toots and The Maytals, I’m thankful he left us Got To Be Tough.

As I type this, people across the UK are buying and streaming ‘Comin Over Here’ by Asian Dub Foundation sampling Stewart Lee’s anti-racism parody set. ADF’s album Access Denied is a pertinent collection of stories and songs about migration, race and culture. With all their usual inventive and innovative music fusions, the politics of ADF is the soundtrack to a Brexit Britain. ADF are able to look at a wider compelx picture of colonialism and borders, and tear it apart.

There’s been some emotional releases from this very hard year. I went for a long walk and listened to Climbing Frame by Gecko. It really sat neatly in my skull in York’s outskirts, surrounded in trees and fields hearing these gentle and honest accounts of growing up. Especially when I felt like I did a lot of growing up this year. Perkie’s I Let Myself Die To Live Again hits me square in my punky heart. South Somewhere Else (Nana Grizol) is a portrait of strength and gentleness in harsh realms. Young (Erica Freas) is soft and makes me feel fragile but secure. Even In Exile (James Dean Bradfield) is a layered tribute to Victor Jara. Non Canon II (Non Canon) is an insightful antidote. Fiona Apple’s Fetch the Bolt Cutters was delightful in it’s melancholy. In the hip-hop camp, Princess Nokia’s two mirror releases, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Sucks are full of dynamite and evolution. Sharecropper Daughter (Sa-Roc) is also a vital release of confidence and defiance. Arrested Development, Run The Jewels and Public Enemy added to their genre-defining canon. Odd Cure by Oddisee was familial and perfectly framed against the pandemic.

My top albums are a tie. Dream Nails’ self-titled debut album is a lovely, bratty mixture of fun, bouncy pop-punk which masterfully combines the cheekiness of Millennial life on ‘Jillian’ and ‘Text Me Back (Chirpse Degree Burns)’ but also the damning need for intersectional radical feminism on ‘Kiss My Fist’ and ‘Payback’. There’s so much going on here, bouncing between themes and ideas whilst keeping the driving, poppy energy. But a key reason this album has meant a lot to me this year is it reminds me of seeing Dream Nails in October at The Crescent in York. My heart soars when ‘DIY’ comes on, it makes me want to bounce and dance in a sweaty, DIY venue (obviously from the back). It’s been the closest I’ve got in 2020, and I think Dream Nails have really captured that vibe.

Untied Kingdom is the second album from Commoners Choir and is my other top album for the same reason. Not that it makes me want to bounce around (no matter how punky a choir can be). But it reminds me of people. The album came out in February and their launch at the Wardrobe in Leeds and to say it was emotional is an understatement. The lyrics to Untied Kingdom are pure poetry, and make me strive for ways to articulate with language. The lyrics are not just about working class history, but our multicultural present. It’s an album for the national, an album for communities, multiculturalism and our identity here in the 21st century. Nothing sounds to modern but so classic. Time and time again it holds my heart tight and sings truth to power. “It’s where we go from here that will define us.” Fuck me, that lyric on the eve of 2021 with Hard Right Brexiteers running the show hits me hard. But there are a million voices of solidarity behind me.

Also, Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus was a banger.