The 10 best albums of 2019 (so far)

Six months in and 2019 already boasts an embarrassment of musical riches: deeply felt country-soul, full-throated R&B, an evolving MC, a teen phenom, and more

“I had no idea I was waiting on you,” sings Blake on the standout “Can’t Believe the Way We Flow.” Form saw the British crooner sailing into uncharted waters, trading his usual introspective sorrow for the energetic rush of new love. A diverse list of collaborators—Travis Scott, Rosalía—wandering synths, and trap drums abound. —AS

Who could’ve guessed that 2019’s biggest breakout would be a 17-year-old writing murky basement jams about her aversion to Xanax and enduring obsession with The Office’s Michael Scott? With her first full-length album, the preternaturally old-souled L.A. native proved to be her own kind of drug—a master of hypnotic grumpy-cat songcraft. —LG

The Texas spitfire followed up her Grammy-winning 2016 debut with an even stronger effort, melding country, pop, and Southern soul into an irresistible collection that can soundtrack the pregame, the night out, the ride home, and the morning after. Gifted friends like Brandi Carlile and Brothers Osborne lend a hand, enhancing an album that is by turns galvanizing, vulnerable, and defiant. —SR

All hail the Ponytail. She bailed on the Grammys after a disagreement with the show’s producers (then won Best Pop Vocal Album anyway), but otherwise, there was no corner Grande didn’t conquer in 2019. The second of two(!) No. 1 albums she released within six months, thank u was a no-caps-button manifesto aimed straight at the heart of the Snapchat-generation zeitgeist— and maybe an ex or three. —LG

As the title implies, the British rising star has Been Through It. Luckily she turned all of “It”— homelessness, house fires, heartbreak—into a beguiling debut under the watchful production eye of the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach, marrying ’70s Laurel Canyon vibes to ’60s Dusty Springfield vocal heft with an authentic country-music heart and a dab of psychedelic soul. —SR

The multihyphenate and Odd Future ringleader continued his impressive transformation from shock rapper to cross-pollinating songwriter. This 12-track effort dissects the life cycle of a doomed relationship—from the initial burst of attachment to the painful dissolution—over funky synths and soulful grooves. —AS

Brooklyn produces lovely, pensive songwriters like Idaho turns out potatoes. But on Remind Me, Van Etten seemed to ascend to another level, burnishing her slow-burn balladry and subterranean rock to a sort of mesmerizing sheen. “No one’s easy to love,” she coos on a song of the same name; by the end of it, happily, that’s a lie. —LG

Life is hard; Lizzo helps. With her third album, pop music’s premier twerking flutist delivered maybe the most purely joyful album of the year—a supreme collection of self-loving, scrubhating bops that not even jaded soundtrack supervisors could refuse; it feels like half of 2019’s TV shows and movies have already co-opted a piece of Cuz. —LG

The great surprise of VW’s brand of brainy, boat-shoed indie rock is how well it’s aging. Frontman Ezra Koenig explores mortality and new fatherhood in ways both melancholy and serene on standouts like “Harmony Hall” and “Bambina,” finding new resonance—and indelible melodies—in the same old mysteries. —LG

The thousand lives of Jenny Lewis—child actress, Rilo Kiley frontwoman, erstwhile solo star—would provide more than enough raw material for any songwriter. It’s the richness of her telling, though, that makes Line bloom fuller with every listen: crystalline anthems built for barstools, open roads, and dark nights of the soul. —LG