Cosmicosmo's Top 5 Albums of 2024
T h e O n l y C o r r e c t O p i n i o n ™
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What's remarkable about Maymung's self-deprecatingly titled debut isn't just its technical prowess—though that's certainly present in spades—but rather how it manages to navigate the treacherous waters between artistic cohesion and creative breadth with the sure-footedness of someone who's been doing this for decades. This isn't merely good for a first album; it's good in that rare, universally applicable way that makes you want to grab strangers by their shoulders and demand they listen to it. The album's structural integrity feels almost architectural, each track supporting and elevating those around it while maintaining its own distinct identity. It builds toward an emotional crescendo that feels both earned and inevitable, creating that rarest of modern musical experiences: an album that demands to be played in its entirety, then immediately repeated.
While perhaps not reaching the vertigo-inducing heights of "To See the Next Part of the Dream" (an album that caused several aspiring shoegazers to dramatically throw their pedalboards into the sea), Sky Hundred demonstrates Parannoul's continued evolution as an artist unafraid of their own shadow. The record feels less like a regression and more like a purposeful sidestep, exploring different corners of their sonic universe with the same power and texture and emotion that made their previous work so compelling. It's an album that rewards repeated listens, revealing new layers of complexity beneath its seemingly similar 'wall-of-sound' surface.
In an era where genre-blending often feels more like genre-smashing, Fetus has accomplished something remarkable with b1 b2: creating an electronic album that serves both as a master class for the initiated and an inviting entry point for the uninitiated. It's a record that understands its lineage—from early trance to contemporary drum and bass—while refusing to be constrained by it. Each track feels like a carefully curated museum exhibit of electronic music's potential, but one where you're encouraged to touch everything. The atmospheric qualities aren't just window dressing; they're load-bearing structures supporting an experience that demands and rewards full immersion. In short, even if you have determined that you absolutely hate computer music, you should give this your full attention from start to finish. (This also isn't the only TREKKIE TRAX entry on this list, which means run, don't walk, to go listen to their entire fucking catalogue.)
Virtua exists in that rarefied space where nostalgia and innovation collide. The artist formerly known as Ringtail (who released on Hyperpop no less!) has created something that transcends mere pastiche, delivering a love letter to educational software soundtracks that somehow avoids feeling like a cheap novelty. The opening track sets up what could have been a one-note joke but instead blooms into a genuine emotional journey. In just six tracks, trndytrndy manages to capture both the wide-eyed wonder of discovering multimedia computer CD-ROMs and the bittersweet recognition of how those moments shaped us. It's an album that shouldn't work as well as it does, yet here we are, grinning like we just booted up Encarta 95 in computer lab for the first time.
In a year where electronic music's old guard seemed content to rest on their laurels, Fellsius's Blue arrives like a bolt of lightning, illuminating just how stagnant electronic dance music had become. This isn't just the best album of the year; it's the kind of record that makes you reevaluate your relationship with electronic music as a whole. Each track is a masterclass in sound design that somehow never loses sight of its emotional core—a rare feat in a genre that often prioritizes technical prowess or marketability over feeling. The question "how did he do that?" becomes less relevant than "why hasn't anyone done this before?" It's the kind of album that feels like it's simultaneously paying respect to and completely reimagining its genre, and it does so with a confidence that makes innovation feel inevitable rather than forced. (Side note, but this album art reminds me so heavily of a parallel universe where Myst was developed in Japan; I often find myself staring at it while I listen to the album, as if I'll unlock some deeper meaning or enter the 'age' of the cover itself.) If I could, I'd make this required material for anybody who wants to speak with me, just so we could gush about how incredible this album is.
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