Your typical album of the year article is probably going to start with something like "In the opening track of his fantastic album, Coloring Book (spoiler alert: something you might see later), Chance The Rapper says 'Music is all we got', and that's what I think about music this year." Obviously, it's easy to use the election to bump one's credibility (it hasn't stopped the media before), but I'm going to abstain from using it as a thread. Years are placeholders for what comes in them, simply categorizations, like filing cabinets, so the idea that there's some celestial, spiritual ideal grouping this music together is simply an offset of learning about the first paragraph of a thesis paper in a Liberal Arts school. But although the word "categorization" seems lifeless, it's actually helpful. It gets us to organize the music we've listened to, giving us a better opportunity to listen to that music, and isn't the music what we we're supposed to focus on in the first place?

10. Sturgill Simpson, 'A Sailor's Guide To Earth'

When it comes to Top 10 lists, the number one pick is inevitably going to stand atop the rest of them, even though, theoretically, the difference between one and two will be just as different as two and three and so on. Therefore, whether subconsciously or deliberately, listmakers are going to inevitably shuffle some things around to make a specific album number one, more-or-less, for some symbolic reason. If I were to do that (which I didn't), my personal number one is A Sailor's Guide To Earth." This is a country album, and that fact might turn away some people (admittedly me at first.) However, if you read nearly any review of this album, this isn't your typical country album. Like Kacey Musgraves, Simpson finds a delicate balance of honoring his country roots as well as the country sound as well as experimenting, musically (Welcome To Earth (Pollywog)) and thematically (Sea Stories). Why be the symbolic number one? It's symbolic because this album brings people together, people from the north and the south. What I've learned from this election is that we need to learn how to understand, and, eventually, love each other, and A Sailor's Guide To Earth, like much of music, can help us do just that.

9. Swans, 'The Glowing Man'

Swans completes their "trilogy" (The Seer, To Be Kind, The Glowing Man) in a subdued mode, going more atmospheric than visceral, but it leaves up so much room for brooding layers and hyperbolic repetition. Take the first song of To Be Kind, "Screen Shot" and the first song of The Glowing Man, "Cloud of Forgetting." They are both experiments in escalation but in different ways. "Screen Shot" starts with a tight, aggressive guitar riff that slowly layers in instrumentation, steadily getting larger in blocks. It's intervallic. Then there's "Cloud of Forgetting". The riff is replaced by a breezy chord that gets played over and over again, and the atmosphere of it just escalates and escalates; it's like I'm being lifted up and taken into a cloud during a thunderstorm. That's not to say this moment doesn't have its explosive moments, too. "The World Looks Red/The World Looks Black" contains seven minutes of buildup that lead to the successful payoff of a suspenseful riff reminiscent of "Higher and Higher" from Wet Hot American Summer. Then the last song, "Finally, Peace" has jangling bells and up-and-down vocals that almost make it sound like a Christmas song. Swans did say they were going to pivot after this album, so what if this song is an indicator of what's to come? Who's ready for a Swans Christmas album?

8. Death Grips, 'Bottomless Pit'

Death Grips gives a great example of catchy music that still stays powerful, all the while taking the musical innovations that they've developed over their short but rigorous career. "BB Poison" is reminiscent of the song "Swing" by Savage (in a good way), a catchy force that can be both danced and moshed to. Then there's probably Death Grips' most intense song "Hot Head" that releases pure, raw adrenaline. Stefon Burnett of course is there for often disturbing and funny lyrics, sometimes at the same time. "Three Bedrooms In A Good Neighborhood" is some twisted love song that sounds like "Love The Way You Lie"'s evil twin: "Nylons on Veal/Side bitches don't heal/Your table through my head/My body through your bed." When I heard that the title would be called Bottomless Pit, I was afraid that Death Grips would fall into self-parody, or, even worse, underwhelm me. However, just like the first time I listened to this album, I was blown back and then some.

7. Kendrick Lamar, 'Untitled Unmastered.'

A cliché at this point, but it has to be said: even Kendrick's b-sides stand above most rappers' full albums. His lyrics on this album are relevant, but they do something several "conscious rappers" fail in: saying something that's actually original along with being relevant. "Untitled 5" features the densest lyrics on the album: "I'm passin' lives on a daily/Maybe I'm losing faith/Genocism and capitalism/Just made me hate." Despite the density, Kendrick finds solace in live, jazzy instrumentation and catchy, tasteful hooks like in "Untitled 2." This album isn't the most original idea, the low-key b-side album after the gargantuan magnum opus. Radiohead did it in 2001 with Amnesiac, and Sufjan Stevens did it in 2006 with The Avalanche. However, what I think this album does, better than the other two do, in fact, is live within and without To Pimp A Butterfly. "Untitled 1" gives us the world we're living in after TPAB, a post-apocalyptic yet freed world. The influence is there, but he finds a way to keep this album as separate, experimenting with its own themes and its own identity, all without a title.

6. Kanye West, 'The Life of Pablo'

If "My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy" wanted us to love Kanye, and "Yeezus" wanted us to hate Kanye, "The Life Of Pablo" does both. Just look at the cover art, a picture of marriage, a godly, good, honest establishment, and a picture of a woman of sexual desire. Ribbed through the bottom of the picture is the phrase "Which/One", similar to the "Halle Berry/Hallelujah" debate in Kendrick Lamar's money trees. Here, though, it seems as though Kanye is asking the audience which Kanye Kanye should be, even though we know he'll decide himself, indicative in his vocal "I Love Kanye." Then there are the first two tracks. Kanye called this album a "gospel album", which many people can consider a misnomer, save for "Ultralight Beam." It's cathartic and honest, uplifting and altruistic. A choir comes in, and Chance is at his most affectionate. Then we abruptly get switched to "Father Stretch My Hands Part I", a trap song with probably Kanye's most infamous lyrics: "If I fuck this model/and she bleached her asshole/and I get bleach on my t-shirt/does that make me an asshole?" Which/one? Keep in mind, these are the first two songs, and there is just so much more to sift through, which is my biggest appeal to this album. It's good Kanye and bad Kanye, sometimes fighting, sometimes working together. This has been consistently referenced as Kanye's White Album, and I agree, both in style and in quality; it's not his best, but the sheer talent of him makes it pretty fucking good.

5. Mitski, 'Puberty 2'

I think my favorite part of Puberty 2 is Mitski Miyawaki's balance of grace and aggression. Take "Fireworks", for instance. Along with the galloping, direct guitar, Mitski's voice crescendos and decrescendos with equal bite and catch. Then there's "My Best American Girl", arguably the most popular song from this album. The slow buildup brings to an explosive, heart wrenching chorus, and although it could have come off as oversaturated sweetness, a filter was put on Mitski's voice to give it a distorted, Strokes-like sound, and it turns out so well. Then there's "My Body Is Made of Crushed Little Stars" , the most punk song on the album that also has the catchiest hook. Just when I think a sound is being too stretched or shrunk, something comes in at the end, and I feel like that's symbolic toward the themes in this album, Mitski's life at 30, also known as "puberty two." We'll go back to "My Body Is Made of Crushed Little Stars." She talks about real life encroaching on her dreams: "I wanna see the whole world/how am I supposed to pay rent." It's sound and lyric working together, even if time isn't working with us.

4. Bon Iver, '22, A Million'

Since Kid A, Radiohead's electronic experimental opus, was released in 2000, it seems like several other artists have been trying to take to it, and I'm not just talking about the music students at your college who experimented with the synthesizer. Digital Ash In A Digital Urn, The Age Of Adz, Yeezus, all of these albums from artists that are known for live instrumentation, definitely had success (maybe not the former, but, personally, I enjoyed it as much as the rest of them.) But there is one thing these albums didn't get that Kid A did have. Yes, there are the high, frantic, electronic songs like "Everything In It's Right Place" and "Idioteque", but there are also the toned down, acoustic songs like "Optimistic" and especially "How To Disappear Completely." The other, should I say "imitators", are high-tempo techno all the way through, for the most part, which comes out to impressive technical results, but it's also why I've seen them as rather two-dimensional in comparison to the rest of their discographies. Bon Iver gets the highs and lows (he knows them too well), and he applies them here on 22, A Million. There are the highs like "10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⚄ ⚄ " and "33 'God,'" but they are offset by intimate portrayals, not so different from his debut, For Emma, Forever Ago, like "715 – CRΣΣKS" and "29 #Stafford APTS." What we get as a product is a cohesive, solid project, that follows in the footsteps of the greats but trails its own path, too, probably in the same forest Justin Vernon stayed in when he recorded For Emma, Forever Ago.

3. David Bowie, '★'

Several artists have gotten great works of art done just prior to their deaths, Three Colors: Red and Eyes Wide Shut, for example, but not so upfront and personal as David Bowie has with Blackstar. It's weird to say, but his death almost heightens the experience of the album. The title track "Blackstar" sounds like a farewell address, and the opening line of "Lazarus", "Look at me/I'm in heaven" scares the shit out of me everytime I listen to it. On it's own, though, it's still superbly impressive. "Sue (Or In A Season Of Crime)" matches it's title perfectly, feeling like both a plea for forgiveness as well as a police chase. Then there's "Dollar Days", a primarily acoustic beauty of a song, hitting the album at its most poignant. On the brink of death, Bowie is able to topple over artists at their full strength, simply another indicator of what a talent we lost.

2. Radiohead, 'A Moon Shaped Pool'

After years of controlled, artistic jamming and frantic, cold synthesizing, it was a surprise to many that Radiohead would go down such a down-played, sad route. Like the cover art, these songs oftentimes mesh together, which is why, like many Radiohead albums, several listens are recommended. Sure, you'll notice the frantic strings in "Burn the Witch" or the steady buildup in "Ful Stop", but don't forget what falls in the seams like the cathartic "Decks Dark" or touching "Present Tense." With such an understated album like this, "A Moon Shaped Pool" might fall in the seams of Radiohead's discography, but don't skip over it because you'll definitely miss something.

1. Deakin, 'Sleep Cycle'

Sleep Cycle is only 33 minutes, but I couldn't find an album, including The Glowing Man, that came out this year that put me through more of an experience, and it becomes clear from the start of "Golden Chords" that that is what Deakin is going for. Also, digressing, what a first album. The guy who is known by Pitchfork as the "Ringo Starr of Animal Collective" he leaves the band before their most acclaimed album, Merriweather Post Pavilion, gets released, and six years later, after the Kickstarter campaign and debacle to get this album up, it gets released. With such small but concentrated hype, where everything could go wrong, everything went right with this album. But yes, the experience. The loops and repetitions of "Just Am" bring us into what seems literally like a sleep cycle. "Shadow Mine" is so rooted in the world the album brings us in that we are completely sucked in--and at just the right time because it's followed by "Footy", a catchartic visceral experience. This song gave the album three dimensions, too, as it branches away from sentimentality and moves toward (should I say it?) a masterpiece. The drawn out ambience of "Seed Song" gives us the indicator that the experience is about to end, leading us to "Good House", with such a send-off filled to the brim of wisdom it sounds like it could have almost come off of Blackstar. Speaking of which, it's crazy that, with a year that is so filled to the brim with contributions from the arisrockracy (sorry), my favorite album of this year was an artist's first, but I guess that works out well; we can celebrate those who have come before us while looking out toward the future .