ChatGPT 4o mini prompt: Create a 2024 best of list in the style of rock critic Legs McNeil / Jessica Hooper / Greil Marcus / Ernest Hemingway using the following music albums…
(Click each name under each item to reveal ChatGPT’s hallucination for that writer’s review of the record)
And see the end of the page for special bonus content
Legs McNeil Intro (as hallucinated by ChatGPT 4o mini)
2024 was the year that music actually mattered again. Forget the fluff, forget the filler, forget the overproduced pop factory clones—this year, the good stuff came from the artists who’ve always known that rock, dance, and electronic aren’t just genres; they’re ways to express what it feels like to be alive. Whether it’s the explosive energy of punk, the rich textures of electronic, or the bold, bittersweet introspection of indie rock, these albums hit you where it counts: deep down.
So, yeah, let’s get into it. Here’s what made 2024’s music worth paying attention to.
Jessica Hooper Intro: The Records That Rattle You, Heal You, and Make You Dance (as hallucinated by ChatGPT 4o mini)
2024 was a year that found music doing what it does best: feeling like a visceral, raw experience. Not just something to hum along to in the background but something to live, breathe, and move through. This year’s best albums were as full of contradictions as the world around us—digital and analog, joy and grief, rebellion and acceptance. But they all shared one thing in common: they never left you unmoved. Whether they left you sweaty and dancing, heartbroken and reflective, or just downright confused, these albums didn’t try to give you easy answers. Instead, they let you sit with the messiness of life and find something profound in it. Here’s what mattered in 2024.
Greil Marcus Intro (as hallucinated by ChatGPT 4o mini)
The world spun in complicated, unsettled ways in 2024. Music, as always, responded in kind: some records smoothed the jagged edges of a world tipping toward chaos, others cut straight through the static and revealed truths that couldn’t be ignored. And still, others pushed into the spaces where the broken things bleed. What makes this year’s best albums remarkable is not only their ability to reflect the moment, but to reshape it—whether in wild celebration, quiet sorrow, or radical innovation.
Here are the albums that defined 2024, each of them portals to a world that felt immediate, terrifying, and strangely beautiful.
Ernest Hemingway Intro (as hallucinated by ChatGPT 4o mini)
The records of 2024 are not soft. They do not lean in for comfort, nor do they speak in whispers. They are blunt and clear. Some are beautiful, some are angry, and some are sad. But all of them make you feel something. Music should do that. The sound of these albums is as sharp and clean as a knife’s edge. They cut through the noise of the world.
Four Tet – Awakenings at ADE 2024 DJ set (Finsbury Park August 10 2024 show too)
Legs McNeil
The godfather of next-level dance music shows exactly why he’s been the one everyone’s been chasing. This live set is more than just a DJ showing off his skills; it’s a lesson in how to make a crowd feel something deep. His set bounces between deep grooves and kinetic energy, but it’s his way of building tension—like a wave coming in—that turns the whole thing into a spiritual experience. If you didn’t dance your face off to this, were you even alive?
Jessica Hooper
Four Tet’s ADE 2024 Live DJ Set is an unrelenting masterclass in patience. It’s like watching an expert artist build something from nothing, creating intricate soundscapes that bend and twist with each track. You’d think it was all just beats, but Four Tet, ever the alchemist, knows exactly how to turn those beats into feelings—emotions you never expected to have while dancing. The set flows in such a way that it’s easy to forget where you are, who you’re with, or even the time of day. You’re lost in the sound, somewhere between ecstasy and revelation. It’s a celebration, a meditation, a conversation. This is the kind of music that doesn’t just get under your skin—it burrows into your soul.
Greil Marcus
When Four Tet takes the stage, the world ceases to be an idea and becomes an experience. The ADE 2024 Live DJ Set is a dense, shimmering mass of sound that seems to stretch beyond any given moment. It is music at once vast and intimate, a gathering of disparate elements, ever-shifting, colliding, dissolving—reality itself can’t hold. At its best, the set presents itself as a search for something—an ecstasy, a purpose, a question—that hovers just beyond understanding, just outside of reach, all while pulling you deeper into its folds. Four Tet’s set is a journey across time and space, wrapped in a steady pulse, moving both in and out of focus. This is music that doesn’t wait for you to catch up—it demands you enter the moment, and it does not let you leave the same.
Ernest Hemingway
There’s a purity in Four Tet’s work. The DJ set moves. It doesn’t linger. You can hear the pulse of the crowd, the rhythm of the night. There’s nothing fancy about it. It is just music, raw and alive. You can feel the energy in your bones, and that’s enough. A man stands behind a table and plays, and the crowd listens, and for a moment, they are free.

The Umbrellas – Fairweather Friend
Legs McNeil
Breezy, jangly, easy-going indie that doesn’t try to be anything it’s not. Fairweather Friend hits you with sun-dappled melodies and lyrics that are as much about avoiding pain as they are about savoring the little moments. But it’s not all whimsy—the band knows how to pull you in with a hook when it matters. It’s light and low-stakes, but still packs a subtle punch. Perfect for sipping beers on a Saturday afternoon.
Jessica Hooper
A burst of sunshine in the often-overcast world of indie rock, Fairweather Friend takes you to that space where you’re not quite sure if you’re falling in or out of love, but you feel it. The Umbrellas wrap themselves in jangly guitars, shimmering harmonies, and lyrics that swing from wistful to melancholic in the same breath. There’s a simplicity to this record that’s so easy to embrace. It’s not groundbreaking or genre-defying, but it’s warm and approachable, a perfect soundtrack to those quiet afternoons when you need something both comforting and real. It’s music that wants you to feel the beauty in fleeting moments, no matter how small they are.
Greil Marcus
Wherever there’s sunlight, there’s the promise of Fairweather Friend. The Umbrellas bring a soft breeze with their jangly guitars, their melodies easy to lose yourself in. It’s music that makes you feel like you’re floating, drifting through a familiar landscape, as if the world is constantly in motion but never moving too fast. But beneath the effervescent surface lies something else—a sense that all is not as it seems. Fairweather Friend is full of yearning, of gentle longing. The familiar sound of indie pop takes on a surprising emotional weight, as if the lightness of the music could tip into something darker at any moment.
Ernest Hemingway
This is a quiet record. It is not the kind of thing that demands attention. But when you listen, you hear the sound of longing. The guitars ring out like memories, and the voices drift like thoughts. It is simple but full of things you don’t want to forget. There’s a sadness, but it isn’t heavy. It moves in light steps, like someone walking slowly away.

Nia Archives – Silence is Loud
Legs McNeil
Nia Archives brought the heat in 2024, blending jungle, soul, and raw emotion into something that doesn’t just make you move—it makes you think. Her beats have the kind of infectious bass that burrow into your chest, but it’s her lyrics that stick with you. She’s a voice for a generation: loud, unapologetic, and unapologetically real. This isn’t just club music—it’s a statement. Catch her live if you can.
Jessica Hooper
Nia Archives, with Silence is Loud, continues her ascent as one of the most important voices in contemporary electronic and UK music. The album doesn’t just drop beats—it builds entire worlds within them, constructing space for vulnerability, joy, and strength. Jungle, bass, and soul infuse every moment, but what stands out is her voice: a haunting, bold presence that demands your attention. Whether she’s rattling the walls with thunderous rhythm or coaxing you into introspection with a delicate, melodic pull, this album speaks to the urgent complexity of life, the quiet rebellion of asserting yourself in a world that often prefers silence. It’s a sound that is as loud as it is powerful, because Nia knows that silence is only the absence of sound, not the absence of meaning.
Greil Marcus
Silence is Loud takes a genre that’s built on movement and spins it on its axis. Nia Archives’ jungle rhythms pulse with a power that defies description, the very air around her snapping and crackling with energy. Her music is where the beat moves from your feet to your heart, where history and vision intersect. But what makes Archives’ music truly revolutionary is how she fills silence with meaning: each beat is an urgent question, each drop a declaration. This album is not just an assertion of sound but of presence, each track a story that demands to be heard.
Ernest Hemingway
The sound here is sharp and bold. It doesn’t wait for permission. The rhythms are thick and full of weight, but there’s a clarity in it, too. It doesn’t waste time. There’s a fire in the music, and you can hear it. This is the sound of youth and strength. There is a story being told, and it’s one that demands you listen, loud and clear.

Kelly Lee Owens – Dreamstate
Legs McNeil
Dreamy, atmospheric, and seductive, Kelly Lee Owens takes you on a journey that doesn’t rush. She’s got that hypnotic flow, like you’re falling deeper into a trance the more you listen. The album’s not about big hits; it’s about making you feel something—and it does. Think slow-burn club vibes with a touch of melancholy and you’re halfway there. But beware, the deeper you go into this record, the more it gets under your skin.
Jessica Hooper
Kelly Lee Owens has this uncanny ability to make music feel like a dream that you’re not sure you’re waking up from. Dreamstate is an album that’s about losing yourself, but in the best way possible. Owens’ music moves between textures of serenity and tension with the ease of someone who’s been doing this for years. There’s a strange depth in her minimalism—each note, each pulse, feels more intentional than the last. Her voice feels like it’s floating through a cosmic void, existing as a tool for both introspection and liberation. There’s something almost spiritual about Dreamstate—it’s less about where you’re going and more about the space between here and there. You lose yourself willingly, as if you’ve always been meant to.
Greil Marcus
Dreamstate is an album that revels in its own contradictions: electronic yet organic, tranquil yet electric with tension. Kelly Lee Owens creates an immersive soundscape where everything exists in a state of becoming, where every rhythm and tone subtly morphs into something new. The album’s dreamlike quality betrays no urgency, yet it pulls you deeper with every track. It’s a journey to a place of inner stillness, even as it teases the edges of something larger, more unknowable. Owens’ voice—soft, ethereal, yet grounded—becomes the very pulse of the record, the thread tying together fragments of memory, space, and time.
Ernest Hemingway
Kelly Lee Owens makes music that seems to come from somewhere else. It is soft and steady, but there’s an undercurrent that moves, always moving. The beats come and go, like waves, pushing forward, but never crashing. It’s a record for nights when the world is too loud. You close your eyes and you drift with it, far from everything. You forget where you are.

NewDad – MADRA
Legs McNeil
2024’s indie darling, but don’t hold that against them. There’s a lot to love about MADRA. They take the simple elements of guitar-driven post-punk and make it feel fresh and vital again. It’s sharp, it’s concise, and it’s got that sweet spot where it’s more melancholy than you expected, but still hits hard when it needs to. It’s nothing revolutionary, but it’s certainly a welcome addition to the indie scene. I’d take a walk with this record in my earbuds any day.
Jessica Hooper
MADRA is the sound of a band figuring themselves out in real time—and it’s a thrilling thing to witness. New Dad’s debut full-length is filled with raw, emotional energy and a palpable sense of urgency. Every track feels like a search for something, a search that remains unresolved by the album’s close. But that’s what makes it so captivating—the uncertainty, the lack of easy answers. Their blend of alt-rock and post-punk touches on melancholy and nostalgia, but there’s something in the tension between the quiet and the loud that keeps pulling you in. It’s an album about the messiness of growing up, the quiet struggle to carve out your place in a world that doesn’t always give you the space to do so.
Greil Marcus
New Dad’s MADRA unfurls slowly, an album that is equally elusive and grounded, at once steeped in nostalgia and intent on moving forward. The record comes off as a gentle elegy to youth, its guitar lines dipping in and out of the present, as if remembering what’s been lost, but aware of the possibility of more. The music on MADRA breathes, hesitant but searching, never quite sure of where it’s going, but confident in the direction it’s headed. There’s beauty in this uncertainty, in the delicate push-and-pull between innocence and wisdom. The album lingers in that space where life’s deeper questions seem unanswerable, but still worth asking.
Ernest Hemingway
New Dad does something simple and good. The guitars move clean, like a straight shot down a quiet road. The songs are fast and they don’t waste time. There’s a calm in their music, but also a restlessness, a search. You hear it in every note. It doesn’t need to be explained. It’s just there, and it makes sense the way good things do.

Mdou Moctar – Funeral for Justice
Legs McNeil
Every time I think I’ve got Mdou Moctar figured out, he drops something that makes me question everything. Funeral for Justice blends desert blues with a sense of political urgency that’s raw and hypnotic. The guitar riffs are vicious and beautiful, and the rhythms hit you with the kind of repetitive, mesmerizing drive that makes you lose track of time. This isn’t just music from the desert—it’s the soundtrack to a revolution, played on electric guitars that scream as loudly as the messages they carry.
Jessica Hooper
Mdou Moctar’s Funeral for Justice is a guitar record that doesn’t just rock—it electrifies, it redefines what it means to carve out space for both personal and political expression in music. The album pulses with urgency as Moctar layers swirling, psychedelic desert blues over a foundation of bold, pulsating rhythms. The album feels both timeless and rooted in the present—there’s a rage that simmers beneath the surface, and yet Moctar’s guitar seems to weave through everything like a thread of hope, a call for justice, a prayer for peace. This is music for the soul—the kind that makes you question everything, but also offers you the strength to go on.
Greil Marcus
Funeral for Justice is an album whose power doesn’t fade. Mdou Moctar’s intricate guitar work and deeply rooted rhythms emerge from the Saharan desert like a prayer that calls you into action, not with words but with sound. This is not just music, but a message encoded in blistering guitar solos, thundering percussion, and a spirit that refuses to be quieted. The album speaks of revolution, of a world unraveling at the edges, yet it pulses with a sense of control, of forward momentum. It is urgent and unyielding—a defiant refusal to let justice be buried in the sands of time.
Ernest Hemingway
Mdou Moctar’s guitar sings like it’s in a desert, wide and open. The sound comes in waves, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but always heavy. The music carries a weight, and it doesn’t rush. There’s a purpose in it, and it’s clear. The songs speak of something deeper than words. They are the kind of songs that don’t need to explain. You feel them.

The Cure – Songs of a Lost World
Legs McNeil
With Songs of a Lost World, The Cure does what they do best—find the beauty in sorrow, the light in darkness, the hope in despair. What’s new here is the sharpness of their aged melancholy—where the echoes of the past converge with an understanding that nothing stays the same, especially nostalgia. Robert Smith’s voice still carries weight, but there’s a gentleness to it now, almost resigned. It’s a bit long, but the moments of clarity in the sound, when it soars, feel earned.
Jessica Hooper
The Cure’s Songs of a Lost World is a record that is as grand as it is intimate. It feels like Robert Smith and the band are reflecting not just on their own journey but on the entire narrative of rock music itself. The album doesn’t seek to recapture the magic of Disintegration or Pornography—instead, it builds something new out of those foundations. There’s a sense of finality here, but it’s not one of resignation. Smith’s voice, always tinged with longing, now carries the weight of years, but it’s still capable of swooping into moments of pure catharsis. It’s a record about the passage of time, about losing and finding, about how we hold onto memories even when the world changes around us.
Greil Marcus
Where does a band like The Cure go when they reach the edges of their own mythology? With Songs of a Lost World, they venture into the cavernous spaces left behind by time. Robert Smith’s voice, now more fragile than ever, still carries that sense of yearning, but it is tempered by a weary acceptance. The album’s grandiosity speaks to the weight of its years, while still reaching back toward those moments that made The Cure an indelible part of pop culture’s fabric. Songs of a Lost World is a monument to loss—not just of time, but of moments that slip away like sand through the fingers. But there’s a certain beauty in this elegy, a calm in the storm of feeling. If there’s any band capable of making melancholy feel like a comfort, it’s them.
Ernest Hemingway
The Cure’s music doesn’t try to hide anything. It is there, honest and open. The songs are slow, but they don’t feel heavy. They are about remembering, about looking at what’s gone and accepting it. There’s no anger in it. There’s just the weight of what’s lost, and the quiet hope that maybe it wasn’t all for nothing.

Amyl and the Sniffers – Cartoon Darkness
Legs McNeil
If you’re looking for an album that makes you feel like you’ve just been hit with a bolt of electricity, Cartoon Darkness is your ticket. Amyl and the Sniffers bring that chaotic energy that makes punk so damn fun. The guitars are jagged, the vocals are brash, and the energy is uncontainable. This is the sound of a band who knows how to turn up the heat and make sure you’re the one sweating. No pretensions, just pure rock and roll.
Jessica Hooper
If Cartoon Darkness was any more chaotic, it might rip itself apart. Amyl and the Sniffers bring their wild, reckless energy to every track, pulling no punches in their unapologetic exploration of punk rock in its purest form. There’s a manic urgency to this record that makes it feel like a scream for freedom. It’s frenetic, it’s messy, and it’s exactly what the world needs right now. The album is a sweaty, ferocious joyride that finds beauty in the breakdowns and power in the chaos. It’s punk, sure, but it’s punk that feels new, that doesn’t just rest on its legacy—it runs straight ahead, no apologies.
Greil Marcus
The title says it all: Cartoon Darkness is a record filled with the frenetic energy of punk, but it’s punk that doesn’t just burn—it eats itself alive. Amyl and the Sniffers find an anarchic joy in chaos, and this album is their playground. It’s rough, raw, and unpredictable. But there’s something deeper lurking in the noise—something more than rage or resistance. It’s a celebration of living in the moment, of taking the wreckage and turning it into something spectacular. The band’s ability to balance anger with irreverence gives Cartoon Darkness a certain kind of liberation. It’s loud, it’s intense, and it doesn’t give a damn about what anyone thinks.
Ernest Hemingway
This record is loud. It doesn’t care if you’re ready for it. The guitars are sharp, the vocals are raw, and the energy is high. There’s a madness in the music, and it moves fast. There is no time to think. There’s only time to feel. It is a record made for people who want something real. It doesn’t pretend.

Beth Gibbons – Lives Outgrown
Legs McNeil
Beth Gibbons is one of those voices that feels like it was made for heartbreak. On Lives Outgrown, she lays it all out with the kind of raw emotional honesty that leaves you feeling like you just saw something private. The record’s slow, atmospheric, and melancholy, but it’s impossible to look away. Her voice never falters—it’s like listening to someone speak truths they’ve spent years avoiding. A quiet triumph in an otherwise loud year.
Jessica Hooper
Beth Gibbons’ Lives Outgrown is an album that feels like an elegy. Her voice, always a fragile and evocative instrument, seems to carry more weight on this record, as though it’s seen more, suffered more, and yet—there’s still beauty in it. The music is sparse and slow-burning, but every note feels essential. Gibbons’ somber delivery allows each word to resonate deeper, making it a painful, but necessary listen. She’s not just singing about loss; she’s singing through it, creating a space for listeners to confront their own ghosts and find a way to move forward. It’s an album that may break your heart, but it also feels like a kind of healing.
Greil Marcus
Beth Gibbons’ voice, fragile yet devastating, anchors Lives Outgrown in a space where vulnerability is its own strength. Each note feels like a confession, every breath a release. The album’s atmosphere is thick with unresolved tension—like the stillness before a storm or the quiet after a lover has left. It is an album full of heartbreak and tenderness, where silence speaks as loudly as any note. Gibbons taps into something that cannot be articulated through mere words, her voice the space where loss becomes sacred, where sorrow is transformed into something pure and haunting.
Ernest Hemingway
Beth Gibbons makes music that feels like it’s been carved out of silence. Her voice is quiet, but it carries. It moves through you. This is the music of someone who has been through something and lived to tell about it, not with words, but with sound. There is grief in this album, but there is also release. The songs are not loud, but they are full of everything you need to hear.

Fontaines D.C. – Romance
Legs McNeil
Fontaines D.C. continues to evolve, taking the sharp edges of their earlier work and smoothing them out without losing that gritty edge. Romance is both poetic and scathing, a perfect blend of punk energy and introspective reflection. They’re no longer just an angry young band—they’re a band with something to say, and they’re saying it louder than ever. It’s all about momentum here—the kind that keeps building until you’re at the edge, wondering how far they’re willing to take you.
Jessica Hooper
Fontaines D.C. take a turn toward a more reflective, melancholic mood on Romance, but the band’s trademark urgency and intensity are still ever-present. There’s something intoxicating about how this record balances fragility with defiance. Each track lurches forward with the kind of momentum that demands you listen, yet they also invite you to reflect. It’s a sharp, yet fluid portrait of a generation caught in between the nostalgia for something that was and the anticipation of something that could be. The album feels like a deep breath before you dive into the unknown.
Greil Marcus
Fontaines D.C. have always known how to navigate the boundaries between rage and reflection, between alienation and connection. Romance finds them moving in new directions, both musically and thematically. The band is no longer just a voice for the disillusioned; they are now philosophers, questioning the nature of connection, identity, and desire. The album pulses with a new energy—more refined, but just as gritty as before. It’s not just about punk anymore; it’s about the existential angst of a generation that has yet to see its future unfold. The album’s power is in its refusal to let the weight of the world turn into a burden—it uses it to fuel something more.
Ernest Hemingway
Fontaines D.C. are not afraid to dig into the dark places. Their music is rough, but it doesn’t shy away from anything. There is a toughness in their sound, a kind of honesty you can’t ignore. The record is filled with thoughts that are at once personal and universal, a look at love and loss and the things that we don’t want to face. But they face it, and they make you look too.

English Teacher – This Could Be Texas
Legs McNeil
English Teacher’s debut record is another entry into the “indie but with something to prove” category. But there’s something about the mix of literate lyrics and jangly guitars that makes you sit up and pay attention. They’re not breaking any new ground, but there’s a certain charm in their low-key, understated approach. It’s a record that takes its time to unravel, but once it does, you’re hooked. A little too safe at times, but still a solid effort.
Jessica Hooper
English Teacher’s This Could Be Texas is full of that classic indie-rock energy—sharp, witty, and a little bit weary. But it’s the band’s subtle approach to life’s disorienting, absurd moments that makes this record shine. There’s a cleverness to their songwriting, a dry humor that creeps in between moments of genuine heartache and frustration. It’s a record about figuring things out, or at least trying to, in a world that seems more confusing by the day. The melodies are jangly, the lyrics sharp, and there’s a warmth here that makes you feel like you’re in on the joke—whether or not the world is.
Greil Marcus
English Teacher’s debut is a step into a world where indie rock still means something. This Could Be Texas is everything you want in a modern rock album—sharp lyrics, catchy melodies, and a voice that feels like it’s both old and new. The band seems to have found a place where their sound feels both classic and fresh, where the lyrics tug at something real and present, but never feel too heavy. It’s a record that rides the line between irony and sincerity, capturing the paradox of our times. The sound is familiar but never quite predictable, a soundscape that feels like it could collapse under its own weight—but it doesn’t. It holds steady, looking out over a world that could still be saved.
Ernest Hemingway
This is an album that doesn’t make anything easy. The songs are sharp and direct, and the band plays with the kind of tension that makes you stay awake. The music sounds like it’s pushing against something, like it’s trying to break free from the things holding it back. It doesn’t explain why, it just does it. And in doing so, it makes you feel something real.

Vampire Weekend – Only God Was Above Us
Legs McNeil
The thing about Vampire Weekend is that they’ve always been a band with a sense of purpose. Only God Was Above Us is a mix of that intellectual cool with a genuine emotional punch. The record feels grand, like a statement on everything they’ve done so far. There are lush arrangements, smart lyrics, and a sense of cohesion that ties everything together in a way only Vampire Weekend can do. It’s smart, it’s ambitious, and it’s still got that quirky, laid-back vibe that made them stars in the first place.
Jessica Hooper
On Only God Was Above Us, Vampire Weekend are still the same band that made us rethink indie rock back in 2008—but now, they’re older, wiser, and maybe a little more jaded. This album is packed with heady, reflective lyrics and tight, intelligent arrangements. It’s the kind of record you need to sit with, not just listen to. The music moves between melancholy and celebration, often in the same track. There’s a strange beauty in the disconnection, in the way the band takes on big questions—love, purpose, loss—while remaining emotionally distant. And yet, it’s impossible to ignore how personal and urgent everything feels.
Greil Marcus
Vampire Weekend are one of those bands that’s impossible to ignore because they’re too damn smart for their own good. Only God Was Above Us continues their journey through intellectualism, melancholy, and celebration—merging witty wordplay with complex arrangements. But what makes this album stand out is its ability to make those grand ideas feel personal, as if you were sitting at a bar with Ezra Koenig, listening to his ruminations on life, love, and everything in between. The album feels almost too pristine at times, but it’s that very perfection that makes it a marvel. Here, joy and loss blend together seamlessly, and every moment feels meticulously crafted, like a momentary piece of beauty trapped in the ether.
Ernest Hemingway
Vampire Weekend’s sound is full of everything that’s been around for years—big ideas, big sounds, big feelings. But this album feels like it’s about something smaller. There’s a focus to it, a kind of clarity that makes you pay attention. The music is wide, but it feels close. It’s the sound of looking out into a world that is both familiar and strange, and still trying to make sense of it.

Waxahatchee – Tigers Blood
Legs McNeil
Waxahatchee’s Tigers Blood feels like a journey through someone’s personal diary—a raw, unfiltered reflection on what happens when you finally accept your own scars. Katie Crutchfield’s voice is front and center here, and she carries the weight of every word with that subtle power she’s always had. This isn’t an album about grand gestures or big statements; it’s about the quiet moments that make you rethink everything you thought you knew. You won’t walk away from this album unchanged.
Jessica Hooper
Katie Crutchfield’s songwriting on Tigers Blood is as delicate as it is sharp, a reminder that personal reckoning often comes with a sense of quiet devastation. The album moves between moments of introspection and frustration, as Crutchfield dissects the forces that have shaped her and the world around her. It’s not just a record about pain—it’s about how we carry it, how we try to make sense of it, and how we sometimes find healing through acceptance. Waxahatchee captures this delicate balance perfectly, crafting an album that speaks directly to the heart, even when it’s hard to hear.
Greil Marcus
Katie Crutchfield’s voice is a revelation. On Tigers Blood, her songwriting touches on raw, undeniable truths that seem to cut right through the surface of things. She sings about love and heartbreak with the kind of precision that makes every word feel like a revelation. This isn’t just an album about personal loss—it’s about the way we try to make sense of what can’t be fixed. Tigers Blood is a meditation on survival, on the grit it takes to weather storms both internal and external. It’s intimate, potent, and quietly devastating—music that makes you feel something deeply, but leaves you better for it.
Ernest Hemingway
Tigers Blood is full of things you can’t take back. It is about the loss that you know is coming, but it’s also about the fight. There’s a kind of strength in the music, a quiet power that feels earned. The songs are not fast, but they don’t need to be. They are full of everything that comes from having lived through something, and surviving it.

Jamie XX – In Waves
Legs McNeil
Jamie XX’s In Waves isn’t just an album—it’s a full-on experience. It’s electronic music that transcends the genre, building moods and layers that get under your skin in the best possible way. This is where minimalism meets emotion, where every sound feels deliberate and necessary. There are no big hits or showy moments here—just a slow build, like a tide coming in, pulling you under. And you want to be pulled under.
Jessica Hooper
Jamie XX’s In Waves is the sound of a musician taking everything that’s happened in the electronic world and remixing it into something alive. The album is spacious, immersive, and rich with detail, drawing you into its rhythmic pulse like a current you can’t escape. There’s an otherworldliness to it, like you’re being transported to some distant, yet familiar place—where the edges of reality blur and everything feels possible. In Waves isn’t just about music; it’s about space, time, and sensation. Jamie XX’s mastery of mood is unmatched here, and with every track, he proves that electronic music can make you feel as deeply as any live performance.
Greil Marcus
In Waves is a journey—a quiet storm that carries you through unexpected moments of clarity. Jamie XX uses sound like few others, weaving melodies and rhythms that are not just heard, but felt. The album itself is a kind of bridge between places, a space between the dream world and the waking one. But what’s most remarkable about In Waves is its ability to take these fragmented pieces of electronic sound and shape them into something beautiful, something fragile, something alive. This is music that fills the space between breaths, that moves like waves—always rising, always falling, always changing. And in that constant motion, it finds something eternal.
Ernest Hemingway
Jamie XX’s music feels like water. It moves in ways you don’t see coming, but you know it’s going somewhere. The sounds are simple but layered. There’s a rhythm to it, but it’s not the kind of rhythm that tells you where you’re going. It’s the kind of rhythm that lets you figure it out yourself. The record is not loud, but it fills the space in a way you can’t ignore.
Conclusions from each “writer”…
Legs McNeil
Final Thoughts
2024 was a year that didn’t care for easy answers. The best albums were messy, vulnerable, loud, quiet, and—above all—real. They didn’t try to sell you anything. They tried to show you the world, for better or worse. And that’s the music that stays with you.
Jessica Hooper
Final Thoughts:
2024 was a year that reminded us how music can act as both a mirror and a compass. These albums refused to offer easy answers but asked difficult questions about how we navigate the chaos of the world around us. Whether they made us feel seen, made us dance, or made us cry, they all moved us in ways we couldn’t ignore. And for that, they will endure long after the year is over.
Greil Marcus
Final Thoughts
What defines the best of 2024 is not just the quality of the music—it’s the sense that we, as listeners, are living in a moment that can never quite be recaptured. These albums, in their many different ways, provide the soundtrack for a world that’s constantly shifting, breaking, and—somehow—rebuilding itself. They are portals to experiences, to moments that move beyond simple enjoyment. They are reminders that music doesn’t just help us understand the world—it helps us live inside it.
Ernest Hemingway
In the End:
The best albums of 2024 don’t speak to you in soft tones. They don’t sugarcoat anything. They are clear and blunt. They don’t need you to listen to understand, but they make you feel. And in the end, that’s the only thing that matters. You listen. You feel. And you remember.
BONUS HALLUCINATION!
Below is the output from Perplexity.ai for the same Legs McNeil prompt. Note how this version chooses a different order from the one that I chose and also add “citations”…
Alright, you punks, listen up! Here’s the raw, unfiltered truth about the best albums of 2024, straight from the gutter to your ears. No bullshit, no sugarcoating, just pure sonic assault that’ll make your ears bleed and your heart race.
- Amyl and the Sniffers – “Cartoon Darkness“
Holy shit, these Aussie freaks have done it again! Amy Taylor’s snarling vocals and the band’s relentless punk fury will make you want to smash everything in sight. It’s like getting hit by a truck made of pure adrenaline. - Fontaines D.C. – “Romance“
These Irish bastards keep getting better. Grian Chatten’s poetic rage cuts through the noise like a switchblade, while the band’s post-punk assault leaves you gasping for air. It’s romantic alright – if your idea of romance involves getting your heart ripped out and stomped on. - The Cure – “Songs of a Lost World“
Just when you thought Robert Smith had nothing left to say, he comes back and punches you in the gut with this dark masterpiece. It’s gothic, it’s depressing, and it’s fucking beautiful. Smith proves he’s still the king of melancholy. - English Teacher – “This Could Be Texas“
These Leeds upstarts came out of nowhere and delivered a debut that’s as sharp as broken glass. Lily Fontaine’s vocals are a perfect mix of sneering attitude and raw vulnerability. It’s like Gang of Four and Blondie had a love child raised on a steady diet of anxiety and distortion. - Mdou Moctar – “Funeral for Justice“
This Tuareg guitar god continues to blow minds with his psychedelic desert rock. It’s like Hendrix reincarnated in the Sahara, shredding for the revolution. Turn it up loud enough, and you might just start a riot. - Vampire Weekend – “Only God Was Above Us“
Ezra Koenig and the boys have ditched the preppiness and gone full-on weird. It’s like Paul Simon on acid, with hooks that’ll burrow into your brain like parasites. Love it or hate it, you can’t ignore it. - Waxahatchee – “Tigers Blood“
Katie Crutchfield’s voice could melt steel, and her songwriting is sharper than ever. It’s indie rock with a country twang and a punk heart. She’ll make you cry, then make you want to burn down the patriarchy. - Four Tet – “ADE 2024 Live DJ Set”
Kieran Hebden proves once again why he’s the mad scientist of electronic music. This live set is a journey through the cosmos, with beats that’ll rewire your synapses. It’s dance music for the end of the world. - Beth Gibbons – “Lives Outgrown“
The Portishead singer’s solo album is a haunting masterpiece. Her voice is like a ghost that follows you around, whispering beautiful nightmares in your ear. It’s not punk, but it’s got more soul than a thousand pop stars. - Nia Archives – “Silence is Loud“
This drum and bass prodigy is bringing the rave back to the masses. It’s like jungle music for a new generation, with a voice that cuts through the chaos like a laser beam. Turn it up and watch the world blur.
There you have it, you degenerates. Ten albums that’ll save your miserable souls in 2024. Now go forth and spread the gospel of noise. And remember, if it’s too loud, you’re too old!
Citations:
[1] https://www.hardcorehumanism.com/legs-mcneil-shows-me-the-secret-of-punk-rock-innovation/
[2] https://archive.org/stream/NewsUK1993UKEnglish/Oct%2029%201993,%20The%20Times,%20%2364787,%20UK%20(en)_djvu.txt
[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legs_McNeil
[4] https://public.ukp.informatik.tu-darmstadt.de/reimers/embeddings/wikipedia_word_frequencies.txt
[5] https://www.nytimes.com/1996/08/22/books/story-of-punk-more-the-ugly-gossip-than-the-music-s-impact.html
[6] https://mre.no/httpdocs/js/zxcvbn/data/english_wikipedia.txt
[7] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wtl78LrBY_U
[8] https://worksheets.codalab.org/rest/bundles/0xadf98bb30a99476ab56ebff3e462d4fa/contents/blob/glove.6B.100d.txt-vocab.txt