Pitchfork's 50 Best Albums of 2020

Yaeji’s first full-length mixtape is a subtle, more insular turn for the producer. It plays like a self-issued challenge to strip away the fluorescence, to find what’s underneath pop catharsis.

In form and in practice, Pramuk’s debut album generously looks inward to illuminate the multiplicity of the self.

Alongside a cast of musicians who help bring her kaleidoscopic world to life, the Russian avant-pop artist emerges with a visionary record that offers an escape from gloom.

Recording in a studio, the Chicago DIY trio sound newly airy and lush, but no less direct and sincere. Their confidence in their concision is the best part.

The stunning, open-hearted new album from indie rock singer-songwriter Hannah Read renders personal crises with a deft and delicate touch.

Matmos member Drew Daniel has put together a gorgeous album that carries itself with the strength of a soft prayer, masterfully fusing jazz, deep house, and minimalism into an enormous, featherlight shield.

Live Forever argues that life is not some march toward a peak, but a closed loop—one that’s tighter if you’re Black. The brilliance of Bartees’ debut is in how it carves out an expansive space within that loop.

On her second album, the Welsh electronic musician leans into both her loops and her lyrics, seeking something spiritual in the act of repetition.

The second album from singer-songwriter Sophie Allison is piercing and unpredictable. In contrast to its bigger and brighter sound, the mood is grimmer, the emotional truths darker.

On her stunning debut, the tenor saxophonist and rising member of the London jazz scene meditates on her humble family heritage, the continuum of jazz history, and the power of collective action in our present moment.

The second album from the Brighton four-piece is the sound of a band mercilessly digging into itself with a stunning, dynamic performance from singer-songwriter Dana Margolin.

On her debut album Forever, Ya Girl, the Chicago-bred, New York-based singer/producer/multi-instrumentalist KeiyaA merges Earl Sweatshirt-ish grime and the grit of deconstructed club with hints of psych and funk.

The thrill of Future Nostalgia—the title itself a claim to modern classic status—is in hearing her tailor the retro-funk form to suit her commanding attitude.

Only the mind of Meg Remy can take the trauma inflicted on Earth and our childhoods and create something as wonderful as Heavy Light, another vivid and highly affecting album of experimental pop music.

Long-delayed and eventually shelved, Jay Electronica’s near-mythical “lost” album finally sees official release after it was leaked. Even slightly unfinished, it is nearly an all-time classic, the kind of record that celebrates an art form while simultaneously pushing it forward.

They are not showy pieces, but the depth of her relationship with her instrument is clear.

The Big Thief singer approaches familiar themes of loss, solitude, memory, and regret in some of the most vivid songwriting of her career.

Bad Bunny’s second album is outstanding. It’s a big party record that pushes boundaries and pays homage to reggaetón’s past and future, all made by a swaggering star with absolutely nothing to prove.

The iconoclastic artist moves to a plush and magisterial kind of rock music for a gratifying and intense record, one whose pleasures are viscerally immediate.

With a shift in tone and tempo, Katie Crutchfield creates a vivid modern classic of folk and Americana. It’s the sound of a cherished songwriter thawing out under the sun.

Fiona Apple’s fifth record is unbound, a symphony of the everyday, an unyielding masterpiece. No music has ever sounded quite like it.