My Favorite Songs of 2024: Aphex Twin, Arooj Aftab, The Cure, Luxury, Pet Shop Boys, Starflyer 59

If you call your band The Amazing, then you better have the skill — and cojones — to back it up. Fortunately for them, this Swedish outfit does, but not in the way you might be expecting. Their name might imply swaggering, boisterous rock n’ roll, but in fact, the band plays the sort of lush, introspective indie rock that made Sun Kil Moon so beloved before Mark Kozelek revealed himself to be a creep. “Antichrist” is a perfect example of that, with muted vocals, rich guitars, and thoughtful arrangements galore.

Originally released in 1994, Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works Volume II has achieved near iconic status in the realms of electronic and ambient music. But interestingly enough, one of its most beloved songs wasn’t widely available until the album was reissued in 2024 to celebrate its 30th anniversary. “#19” — also known as “Stone in Focus” by fans — appeared on some vinyl versions of the album, but not on the CD release. The 30th anniversary reissue makes the minimalist masterpiece available to everyone, allowing more listeners to lose themselves in Richard D. James’ haunting and meditative soundscapes.

I discovered Arooj Aftab’s Night Reign via Josh Hurst, who called it an “absorbing” album that “conjures after-hours melancholy, sensuality, and romance.” That’s most certainly the case with “Raat Ki Rani” as Aftab’s rich voice drifts over languid piano melodies, a looming bass line, and sparkling harp notes. When she released the song as a single, Aftab said it was about “a person whose allure, magnetism, and charisma floats through a beautiful evening garden party.” You might not understand Aftab’s Urdu lyrics, but the song’s sense of longing and desire is undeniable and universal.

If memory serves, I discovered Julia Andersson’s music through Moderna Records, which released her Dröm album back in 2023. But her Vinterdvala EP was self-released, and is a perfect showcase for the Swedish composer’s rich, intimate version of modern classical. Translated into English, Vinterdvala means “hibernation” or “a state of winter dormancy,” which is pretty fitting for a January album. The title track — and by extension, the rest of the EP — is the perfect music for wrapping yourself in a thick, warm blanket and enjoying a nice warm beverage and/or good book while the snow falls softly outside.

It’s tempting to dismiss Colombia’s BALTHVS as a Khruangbin clone. After all, both bands are trios that play instrumental music that exists in the liminal space between funk and psychedelia. But that space is big enough for the both bands, particularly when the results are as funky and psychedelic as “Sun Colored Eyes.” BALTHVS are all about the good vibes, which are in great supply here thanks to the trio’s swirling guitar melodies, glass-smooth bass line, and rocksteady percussion.

What was the most effervescent song I heard in 2024? Why, “Electric” by The Blue Herons, of course. Originally released as a single in 2021, “Electric” was given a new lease on life on Go On, which was released this past June. Andy Jossi’s (The Churchhill Garden) six-string and Gretchen DeVault’s (The Icicles) effortless vocals and swoon-inducing lyrics (“One, two, three, four, five, six/I feel the energy lift/And the magic begins”) serve up a masterclass in jangly indie-pop. In less than four minutes, the duo’s pop perfectly captures everything you ever loved about legendary record labels like Sarah Records.

Inspired in part by his own background in religious studies and philosophy, Tyler Matthews has created a dark industrial fable about doomsday cults and totalitarian governments with Circuit Preacher’s Made to Burn. The whole album is an intense onslaught, but “Subtext” adds a wonderfully funky groove to the proceedings with its pulsing synths, which only amp up the intensity of Matthews’ dystopian lyrics and anguished vocals.

If you were to ask me to pick my favorite song from Clinic Stars’ debut album, Only Hinting, my honest reply would probably be whichever song I listened to last. Such is the complete and insular nature of their atmospheric music, which comes into being somewhere between Treasure-era Cocteau Twins and early Low. But for the purposes of my year-end mix, I’m going with the album’s title track. Arguably the album’s most accessible song, it’s a showcase for Giovanna Lenski and Christian Molik’s skill at weaving together dreampop and slowcore, with the result being some of 2024’s most beguiling music. Appropriately enough, Only Hinting was released in September, just in time for the increasingly short and cold autumn days.

When an iconic band returns after a long hiatus, one can’t help but wonder if they’ve still got it. But when The Cure returned after sixteen years with “Alone,” the opening track to Songs of a Lost World, they put to rest any such doubts or questions. Tapping into the same epic sonic mopery that made Disintegration’s “Plainsong” such a majestic opener, “Alone” spends more than three minutes building its gloomy atmosphere before Robert Smith comes in and seals the deal. “This is the end of every song that we sing/The fire burned out to ash/And the stars grown dim with tears” he cries out, lamenting the effects of time and death on, well, everything. (Except for his voice, it seems, which has weathered the ages quite well and still sounds like he could break down into tears at any moment.) When Smith sings of a “broken voiced lament to call us home,” you can feel the loss and heartache somewhere deep down inside.

Belgium’s The Day specializes in that sort of dreamy indie-pop that just makes you want to sit down, pull out some old photos — maybe even an actual photo album if you’re Gen Y or older — and reflect on your life’s path. That’s certainly the thrust of “June,” a lush ballad that finds singer Laura Loeters reflecting on a teenage friendship that’s long since faded (“First of June came to an end/I wonder if you still pretend/That we’re the kids we used to be”). If you’re a nostalgic person like I am, then “June” is absolute catnip, and might lead you to spend the whole day lost in reminiscence.

I’ve been eagerly awaiting more of Daygraves’ blackgaze since 2021’s excellent Imperishable EP. But “Drag the Lake,” which appeared on the Upstate Tape #1 EP, threw me for a loop. True, it has blast beats, shoegaze-y guitars, and tortured shrieks aplenty, but it also contains glammy soloing, chants, emo-ish vocals, and synth arpeggios. Months after my original review, I’m still unsure how everything fits together even as I’m fascinated by the effort. Travis Estes is clearly uninterested in remaining locked within the confines of the blackgaze genre, and everything I hear in “Drag the Lake” has me intrigued about the directions he might go on future releases.

Desiderii Marginis’ Bathe in Black Light was originally self-released in 2021, when I had this to say about it: “[F]or those who have ears to hear, Bathe in Black Light is dark ambience par excellence, and one of the finest albums to date from one of the genre’s most well-established and well-regarded figures.” The album was reissued in 2024 by Cyclic Law, one of today’s most preeminent dark ambient labels, which gives me another opportunity to highlight Johan Levin’s masterpiece. “Night Grasping at Day” opens the album on a bleakly majestic note, conjuring up images of vast wastelands dotted with ancient, ivy-covered ruins — a place so desolate and forlorn that you feel compelled to explore it.

I didn’t listen to a lot of metal in 2024, but from the moment I saw the cover artwork of DVNE’s Voidkind — a gilded image of a bizarre, multi-limbed entity tearing itself open as a procession enters its body — I was fascinated. Drawing inspiration from sci-fi epics like Frank Herbert’s Dune (as evidenced by the band’s name) and Dan Simmons’ Hyperion, Voidkind is an ambitious and thoughtful album about religious belief and extremism. “Eleonora” is the album’s second track, a nearly nine-minute piece that seamlessly blends brutal riffage and haunting atmospherics.

With its churning guitars and driving beats, you’d be forgiven for thinking that “Resound” is going to be an industrial onslaught. Which it is. But it’s also a shamelessly romantic and upbeat song, with Mikkel B. Jakobsen crying out “Let me walk into your fire/Let me throw love at my lies/Let’s take control and resound/Let’s make this our best one.” In interviews, Jakobsen says the song was inspired by being in a good place in life, which doesn’t mean it’s any less of a banger.

Beth Gibbons’ first proper solo album — 2002’s Out of Season was a collaboration with Talk Talk’s Paul Webb — found the Portishead frontwoman singing about “motherhood, anxiety, menopause, and mortality.” Those are weighty topics, but Gibbons approaches them with a world-weary grace courtesy of her trembling voice and sparse, tasteful arrangements. “Floating on a Moment” is all about coming to terms with one’s mortality as Gibbons sings of “traveling on a voyage where the living, they have never been” and ultimately realizing that “all we have is here and now.” Gibbons’ song is suffused with thoughtful resignation, the sort of wisdom that only comes with age and experience.

Much like the aforementioned BALTHVS, Glass Beams plays the sort of instrumental funk/psychedelia that would be easy to dismiss as Khruangbin knock-offs. But the Australian trio’s guitar melodies, rhythmic patterns, and wordless vocals draw inspiration from Bollywood soundtracks and Middle-eastern drones. I hesitate to use the term “exotic” here, with its colonialist undertones, but the simple fact is that Glass Beams’ music does possess a non-Western vibe that makes it unquestionably funkier and more psychedelic.

I’ve been a fan of Michael Cottone’s music as The Green Kingdom ever since 2010’s Prismatic. For the last 15+ years, Cottone has been releasing album after album of exquisite music that pulls together ambient, electronic, and folk music often inspired by the natural world. Horizons is one of his finest albums to date, and “Don’t Lose the Wonder” might even be considered a musical manifesto for Cottone; its graceful-yet-restless guitar melodies and softly blurred soundscapes suggest the first shimmering lights of dawn peaking over the horizon, and the promise inherent to a new day.

“Guitar legend” might not be the first term that comes to mind when you think of Robin Guthrie; it’s usually bestowed on long-haired axe-men proficient in dishing out fiery riffs and blazing solos. Nevertheless, Guthrie is absolutely a guitar legend. For over 45 years, beginning with his iconic work in Cocteau Twins and on through his more recent solo material, Guthrie has been crafting a truly singular body of work. His guitar tones and melodies are impossible to mistake for anyone else’s, and as “Without a Word” proves, they remain as fresh, captivating, and evocative as ever.

Here’s the deal… If Handful of Snowdrops releases some new music in any given year, then it’s probably going to end up on my year-end list. I’ve been a fan of Jean-Pierre Mercier’s blend of post-punk and synth-pop, which brings to mind the likes of Clan of Xyxmox, New Order, and Depeche Mode, for a long time now. Although Mercier described 2024’s Any Moment Now as “a makeshift/compilation/compromise album for the few hardcore HoS fans still out there,” there’s nothing makeshift about “These Waters Are Lonely.” One of the funkier tracks in Handful of Snowdrops’ extensive repertoire, it’s filled with richly layered sonics that perfectly accompany Mercier’s urgent vocals.

Ask me to recommend a good place to start with Japanese ambient composer Chihei Hatakeyama, and my response is “Take your pick.” That’s not to dismiss his music as all being the same, but rather, to clarify that it’s all of such high quality that you can’t really go wrong. That said, Thousand Oceans, released on Hatakeyama’s own White Paddy Mountain label, would be a good starting point. Based largely on guitar drones, albeit guitar drones so heavily processed that they approximate angelic choirs, “A Long Slope Way” was inspired by memories of childhood vacations at the Shirahama resort. Not surprisingly, the song is deeply nostalgic, though a darker undercurrent also lends it an air of mystery and portent.

If I had to pick my favorite song of 2024, or at least the song that was most meaningful, it would be this thoughtful bit of post-punk from longtime faves Luxury. Amidst the foibles and failures of a world going to hell in a hand basket, Lee Bozeman finds moments of divine grace and favor, those quiet voices in the whirlwind that allow him to find peace in turbulent times. Although Like Unto Lambs was released back in May, “Fur / Ticker Tape” stuck with me throughout the following months, serving as something of a balm during the 2024 election season and its dispiriting results.

For more than forty years, Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe have been perfecting their synth-pop sound, and 2024’s Nonetheless is proof that time has done nothing to dim their talents. The music is as crisp and catchy as every, and Tennant’s voice is still so good, it sounds like he traveled through time from the early ’80s. Pet Shop Boys’ music often has a ironic and deprecatory air to it, but “New London Boy” finds Tennant reflecting on his arrival in early ’70s-era London as a young gay man. There’s plenty of glitz and glamor (e.g., going to clubs, seeing Roxy Music and David Bowie in concert) but Tennant also references the dark side: the excessive lifestyle and the things he did to survive and fit in, including fighting off skinheads. A bittersweetness pervades the song, making it more than just an exercise in nostalgic navel-gazing.

Recording as Pye Corner Audio, Martin Jenkins has become one of the most pre-eminent figures in the hauntology scene with a slew of acclaimed releases on Ghost Box Records. 2024’s The Endless Echo continues that trend with music that’s as lovely as it is eerie and haunting. Though it clocks in under three minutes, “Heat Haze” ably conjures up cinematic expanses thanks to its ominous and otherworldly synths, which Jenkins shapes and forms with a master’s patience and skill.

The Revolutionary Army of the Infant Jesus may no longer be as enigmatic as they were when I interviewed them back in 2014, but their music is no less sublime even as it’s grown more accessible. In a different world, “Equinox” might even be considered “pop” as Jessie Main’s beautiful voice swoons and sweeps over layers of percussion and string arrangements. It’s a far cry from the Army’s experimental and industrial origins, but if the song is smoother and more accessible than their earlier material, it’s still just as lovely as anything they’ve committed to tape.

The Rocky Valentines’ frontman is Charlie Martin, son of Starflyer 59’s Jason Martin. And the apple, as they say, doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Like his dad, the younger Martin has a real ear for hooks and melodies, and despite his young age, “Sing the Song” reminds me of all that was good and golden about ’90s alternative and college rock.

Even after three decades, Starflyer 59’s Jason Martin is still adept as ever at writing gorgeously mopey shoegaze tunes. Hearkening back to their earliest albums, Lust for Gold is Starflyer 59’s finest album in recent years, with Martin addressing his usual topics — aging, mortality — with layers of distortion and feedback. The album’s title track finds him taking a page from the book of Ecclesiastes and bemoaning life’s futility and vanity. “In my lust for gold, I feel like I’ve gotten nowhere,” he sings, before concluding “All roads point this way.” The contrast between the song’s downbeat lyrics and its gorgeous sonics, including some string arrangements and Cure-esque keys courtesy of Frank Lenz and Fine China’s Rob Withem, only makes the song more affecting.

Ever since I discovered 2022’s Between the Worlds, Martin Stürtzer’s ambient and dub-laced techno has become must-hear material whenever he drops a new album. And he dropped seven albums in 2024, not to mention numerous live performances on his YouTube channel. While not as comiscally minded as much of his material, “Inverse Dimension” still encapsulates what Stürtzer does best, creating sleek, atmospheric techno built atop deep-running basslines and echo-laden analog textures. Reminiscent of Marconi Union, it’s my ideal late-night soundtrack.

The Void Wanderer’s Empty World eschews the clichés of the dark ambient genre. While many of his peers try to suggest Lovecraftian horrors, dystopian landscapes, and the dark nether-regions of the cosmos with their music, The Void Wanderer’s drifting soundscapes and soft drones evoke something sadder and more mysterious. As the album’s opening track, “In My Restless Dreams” immediately sets the mood, one that surrounds and enfolds you for the next forty-odd minutes.

Warrington-Runcorn New Town Development Plan’s synth music is inspired by the unrealized promises of the utopian communities that popped up in post-war Britain. Gordon Chapman-Fox’s ghostly music is certainly nostalgic, but it’s a nostalgia tinged with regret and the loss of what might have been, had political and corporate greed not stolen it from us. It’s tempting to lump Chapman-Fox’s music in with the rest of the synthwave crowd, but he’s clearly got more on his mind than simply evoking Blade Runner-esque cityscapes.

Denison Witmer’s music contains absolutely no pretense at all. It’s honest, heartfelt, and humble — all qualities that are increasingly attractive as our world grows more harried and chaotic. Thus, it’s totally on-brand that “Older and Free” was literally composed by Witmer at his campsite one evening. The song rejoices in the beauty of nature and solitude — I feel it in my introvert bones when Witmer sings “Older and free to do as I please/Beholden to no one else for the first time in weeks” — as his acoustic guitar and Sufjan Stevens’ lush production create a suitably relaxed vibe.