In a hyperspeed world, it is increasingly meaningful to sit with the vision of one artist for an extended period of time. It’s an experience that can offer shelter from the noise—or it can offer better noise, if that’s what you’re looking for. From drowsy hip-hop to pitch-perfect pop, albums of all genres felt more profound than ever. Synthesizing devastating breakups and calling for revolution in every style of sound, these albums went all-in on what matters.

Listen to selections from this list on our Spotify playlist and Apple Music playlist.

Check out all of Pitchfork’s 2019 wrap-up coverage here.

(All releases featured here are independently selected by our editors. When you buy something through our retail links, however, Pitchfork may earn an affiliate commission.)

Ninja Tune

50.

Floating Points: Crush

British electronic producer Sam Shepherd has always exerted remarkable control over his meticulous musical output as Floating Points: With his favored instrument, the Buchla modular synthesizer, he can contour sound waves and alter circuitry to suit his needs. But Shepherd, like the rest of us, has comparatively little control over his input, and the chaos of the past three years—Brexit, Trump—shook something loose inside him. Out came Crush, a record that vibrates with sadness and anger, buoyed by squelching melodies that flutter and pop. It’s the sound of a super-rational person realizing the limits of reason and letting loose with 44 minutes of pure feeling. –Jonah Bromwich

Listen/Buy: Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal

Secretly Canadian

49.

Faye Webster: Atlanta Millionaires Club

On Atlanta Millionaires Club, 22-year-old singer-songwriter Faye Webster taps into a wide variety of her Southern hometown’s natural reserves, powering her homebody daydreams with drowsy folk-country, bold R&B, and filigreed soul. These solitary songs about unrequited love are full of intimate moments and gestures: hanging on the dead air between her and the silent recipient of a love letter; sleeping in an ex’s shirt to keep the memories fresh; begging an old flame to come back into town and renew their spark. Her eagle-eyed observations about her hapless relationships can be as funny as they are heartbreaking, like on the swooning “Jonny,” where she laments how her dog is her best friend even though, she sings, “He doesn't even know what my name is.” –Sheldon Pearce

Listen/Buy: Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal

Warp

48.

Danny Brown: uknowhatimsayin¿

Danny Brown’s fifth full-length offers heartening proof that the 38-year-old has settled snugly into a demographic of middle-class rappers who can sustain livelihoods without the pressure of storming charts or selling out stadiums. The album is a wonderful scenario for an artist a decade into their career: a rewarding balance of consistency and growth, with subtle experimentation instead of the common midcareer misstep of transparently grabbing for radio play. Brown knows what works and honors it here.

Notably, uknowhatimsayin¿ is executive produced by Q-Tip, whose penchant for air and texture encourages Brown into a mellower, more sober headspace. Fuzzy guitar, looped strings, and expansive guest spots from fellow vets Blood Orange and Run the Jewels underscore a new phase of Brown’s work without blotting out the high-pitched urgency that made him a compelling figure in the first place. That he’s still rapping his ass off makes uknowhatimsayin¿ as satisfying to hear as you can imagine it was for Brown to make. –Rawiya Kameir

Listen/Buy: Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidal

Ostgut Ton

47.

Barker: Utility

Sam Barker is wary of taking the easy route in getting people to move their bodies. A resident DJ at Berlin’s hallowed techno haven Berghain, he has voiced his skepticism of kick drums and drops—the utilitarian elements that so often trigger lizard-brain reactions on a dancefloor. For his debut album, Utility, Barker dug into his archives to see which of his old sketches sounded good when he stripped them back to the studs. The result is mysterious, weightless. These tracks still throb: “Hedonic Treadmill” and “Utility” are trance-like bangers made propulsive entirely via cycling synth melodies, and even the more ambient songs swell and build like club music. As a whole, Utility is an expression of what techno can be when the most obvious percussive elements go away. –Evan Minsker