The Pitchfork Best Albums of 2024
An Exercise in Pretentious Absurdity
The annual Pitchforklist of the best albums of the year has once again graced us mere mortals with its existence. This year’s selection manages to elevate obscurity to an art form, leaving readers wondering whether the staff is critiquing music or curating a gallery of unlistenable experiences. Here’s a satirical dive into the labyrinth of pretentiousness that is Pitchfork’s Best Albums of 2024.
The Gospel According to Pitchfork
Every December, Pitchfork graces us with its annual list of The Best Albums of the Year, a tradition that feels less like a celebration of music and more like a crash course in obscure subgenres you didn’t know existed. It’s a moment when music enthusiasts, casual listeners, and outright skeptics unite to marvel at Pitchfork’s knack for finding artists who record their masterpieces on cassette tapes in remote caves—or so it seems. This year, the list is as bewildering as ever, featuring everything from “post-ambient neo-folk acidcore” to “accordion-based avant-garde polka.” If the goal is to make readers question their taste, their sanity, and the very nature of music itself, then mission accomplished.
The list is not without its drama. Chart-topping icons like Taylor Swift and Beyoncé find themselves sidelined for Lithuanian duos who record on wax tablets and artists who use pinecones as instruments. It’s a parade of exclusivity wrapped in the language of intellectualism, where the most impenetrable albums are hailed as “haunting” or “transformative.” For the rest of us, though, the list is a reminder that enjoying music shouldn’t require a decoder ring, a philosophy degree, or a $300 turntable. Welcome to the Pitchfork experience—pretentious, perplexing, and perversely entertaining.
The Apocalypse Playlist Nobody Asked For
Let’s start with their number one pick: Industrial Shadows: Vol. 3 by a Lithuanian duo whose music is released exclusively on hand-carved wax tablets. Described as “a haunting reflection of late-stage capitalism,” it’s the kind of album that demands a quiet room, a pair of $3,000 headphones, and a masters degree in existential philosophy to understand. One critic called it “haunting.” For the rest of us, it’s just the soundtrack to a dystopian future where we barter for survival with artisanal pickles.
Genres That Sound Like Mad Libs
This year’s list introduced us to “post-ambient neo-folk acidcore,” a genre no one asked for but now apparently exists. Three albums in the top twenty boast this label, leaving readers scratching their heads. Are we supposed to know what that means? One reviewer called it “an auditory dissection of genre fluidity.” Most of us would call it the noise that happens when your Wi-Fi disconnects mid-song.
The Conspiracy of “The Swift Effect”
Taylor Swift’s Midnight Memories Reimagined landed at number forty-seven. Pitchfork describes it as “surprisingly accessible,” which is code for “too mainstream to be cool.” Let’s not forget, Swift has mastered the art of writing pop anthems for the masses. Her inclusion on the list feels like a begrudging nod, a way to avoid complete irrelevance in the face of her global dominance. Somewhere, Swifties are sharpening their pencils to draft strongly worded tweets.
When an Album Isn’t an Album
Number eight on the list isn’t music at all. It’s Urban Chatter IV, a spoken-word performance piece by someone named Azure the Unraveling. Described as “existential musings whispered into the void,” the album is only available on cassette tape and comes with a handwritten manifesto. How thoughtful. One critic called it “a reflection of the human condition.” Most of us call it unlistenable.
Kendrick Lamar’s 18-Second Masterpiece
Kendrick Lamar earned a spot on the list for an 18-second interlude on an obscure album by Clanging Cymbals Collective. Naturally, it scored a perfect 10.0. Meanwhile, Beyoncé’s groundbreaking concept album Future Renaissance was dismissed with a lukewarm 7.2 for being “too polished.” Apparently, excellence is passé at Pitchfork unless it’s wrapped in a layer of intentional obscurity.
Björk’s Whales and Dial-Up Modems
Fans had hoped for a Taylor Swift-Björk collaboration, but instead, Björk appeared on an album featuring a children’s choir, a whale, and a dial-up modem. The result was described as “sonic alchemy,” but most people just called it weird. The standout track, “Whale Chant No. 7,” sounds exactly as bizarre as you’d expect, and yet it still made the top ten.
Vinyl Snobbery Hits New Heights
If you didn’t preorder Pine Needle Serenade during its exclusive three-hour release window on Etsy, you’re out of luck. The album, recorded entirely with pinecones as instruments, earned a 9.7 rating. One reviewer called it “a triumph of natural acoustics.” For the rest of us, it’s just a reminder that we’ll never be cool enough to own it.
Hipster Fantasy Football
Every year, Pitchfork turns its list into a game of hipster fantasy football. Nobody actually listens to these albums, but mentioning them at parties is worth its weight in artisanal beer. “Oh, you haven’t heard Sad Flute Soliloquy? It’s the sound of heartbreak, played on a broken flute.” Cool story, bro. Pass the IPA.
A Costco Parking Lot Symphony
Feather & Beak lands at number fifteen with an album composed entirely of birdsong recorded in a Costco parking lot. The track “Pigeons in Aisle 3” is a standout, described as “a poignant commentary on industrial encroachment.” Most of us just hear pigeons fighting over a stale churro.
TikTok and the Rise of Untitled Tracks
While the world sings along to Dua Lipa and Billie Eilish, Pitchfork praises DJ Subtle Glitch for a track titled “Untitled (Track 7).” Even Shazam can’t identify it. Meanwhile, the rest of us are left wondering how many “Untitled” tracks it takes before someone actually names a song.
Netflix Documentary Soundtracks
Many albums on the list feel like they were designed to score obscure Netflix documentaries. Case in point: Astral Decay by Echo Nomad, described as “the sound of a dead mall in winter.” Its 23-minute title track features no discernible melody and leaves listeners wondering if the mall will ever be revived.
Kazoo-Core Is the New Punk
A kazoo-based techno album snagged the number thirteen spot this year. Critics called it “transformative.” The rest of us called it “proof that anyone can make this list if they try hard enough.” Somewhere, a kazoo manufacturer is laughing all the way to the bank.
Lyrics That Should Stay in Your Diary
One of the standout lyrics this year: “I am the rust on the hinges of the universe.” Critics called it “a reflection on decay.” Most of us call it “teen angst with a thesaurus.” If this is what passes for poetry, we’re doomed.
Polka Is Avant-Garde Now
Accordion virtuoso Lars von Blare landed at number twelve for his album Squeeze Me Gently, a supposed reinvention of polka. One reviewer gushed over its “audacious creativity.” Somewhere, Weird Al Yankovic is rolling his eyes and muttering, “Been there, done that.”
The Ultimate Hipster Flex
Half the albums on this list are described as “best experienced live.” Translation: you’ll never hear them because the artists only perform in underground art galleries and abandoned barns. Good luck finding tickets.
The Verdict
Pitchfork’s Best Albums of 2024 once again proves that the magazine isn’t just critiquing music; it’s critiquing the very act of enjoying it. Their disdain for the mainstream and love of the obscure turn music into an inaccessible art form. For those of us who just want a good beat and a catchy chorus, there’s always Taylor Swift. Or maybe kazoo techno, if that’s your thing.
Conclusion: Decoding the Pitchfork Phenomenon
The Pitchfork Best Albums of 2024 isn’t just a list; it’s a cultural statement, a performance piece in itself. It speaks volumes about how far removed music criticism has become from the average listener’s experience. For Pitchfork, it’s not enough for an album to be good—it must also be obscure, intellectual, and ideally impossible to stream on Spotify. Accessibility is the enemy; exclusivity is the goal.
Yet, amidst the absurdity of pinecone symphonies, kazoo-core, and existential musings whispered into cassette recorders, there’s a certain charm to Pitchfork’s commitment to its niche. They’re not just curating music; they’re curating a worldview. For the die-hard fans, this list is gospel, a map to musical enlightenment. For everyone else, it’s a comedy of errors, a chance to laugh at just how far the envelope can be pushed before it falls off the table entirely.
But let’s give Pitchfork some credit—they do shine a light on artists who might otherwise remain in the shadows. Whether or not that’s a good thing is up for debate, but it’s undeniably unique. So, if you’re tired of the Top 40 and eager to dive into the avant-garde world of dead mall soundtracks and Lithuanian wax tablets, Pitchfork has you covered. For the rest of us? Well, there’s always Taylor Swift.
15 Observations on Pitchfork’s Best Albums of 2024 List:
- “Pitchfork Predicts the Apocalypse”: Every year, the list reads less like the best albums and more like the soundtrack for the end of the world. A Norwegian synth-accordion quartet made it to the top 10? Bold.
- “What Even is a Genre Anymore?”: Half the albums are described as “post-ambient neo-folk acidcore.” Someone explain to me how that’s different from a soundcheck at Guitar Center.
- “Hidden Messages?”: It’s rumored that if you take the first letter of each album on the list, it spells out “We’re Better Than You.”
- “Too Cool for Actual Music”: The list includes an album that consists entirely of birdsong recorded in a parking lot. The artist calls it “a deconstruction of silence.” Critics call it “brave.”
- “Kendrick Lamar’s Revenge”: Once again, Kendrick made the list, but this time it’s for an 18-second interlude on another artist’s album. Pitchfork gave it a 10.0 for “redefining brevity.”
- “Taylor Who?”: Despite selling out stadiums worldwide, Taylor Swift gets a nod at #47 for a “surprisingly accessible release.” Surprisingly accessible? She’s been accessible since 2006, Pitchfork.
- “The Spoken-Word Saga”: Number 4 is a 72-minute spoken-word album about existential dread by someone named “Azure the Unraveling.” Spotify listeners: 8. Pitchfork score: 9.5.
- “One-Man Band Overload”: Five of the top 10 albums are by solo artists who played 18 instruments each. We get it, Chad, you can do it all. Leave some instruments for the rest of us.
- “Vinyl Privilege”: If you didn’t buy the limited-edition vinyl release of Album #3 during a solar eclipse, you’ll never truly understand its depth. Sorry, digital plebs.
- “The Streaming Snobbery”: Album #8 is only available on wax cylinder. “You’re not really listening unless it’s on a phonograph,” Pitchfork quips. Modern technology? Overrated.
- “Collaboration Chaos”: A track featuring Björk, a children’s choir, and the sound of a fax machine made the cut. Pitchfork calls it “hauntingly mechanical.”
- “Chart Defiance”: None of the albums are from the Billboard Top 100, but a deep dive reveals three were made in someone’s garage using GarageBand. Authenticity reigns supreme.
- “Track Title Madness”: The best albums have track titles like “Hyperreal Meadowland Collapse” or “I Dream in Infrared.” Can we get one called “I Woke Up and Got Coffee”?
- “Rating Whiplash”: They gave Beyoncé’s new album a mere 7.2 because it wasn’t “risky enough” but handed a 9.8 to an album called Sad Flute Soliloquy that sold three copies.
- “Critic Coolness > Actual Enjoyment”: The list feels like a dare: “If you don’t like these albums, you just don’t get art.” Meanwhile, the rest of us are still dancing to Dua Lipa.