No one cares about bylines these days, but if you did, you may have noticed that one of us vanished for a few months. If you get to gigs on a regular basis, you may have also noticed a certain detached redhead absent from the scene. Whatever moves you may have busted out during Shepherds’ album release, I wasn’t there to match you. If you cut a jig with Omni, I wasn’t around. If you moshed like a maniac with Warm Red… well, actually, I may have been standing in the back, after some asshole mocked my bumper stance at the edge of the pit.

Long story short: I crawled into a dark place five months ago, and the vivid pallet of local music faded from my view. Like our editor wrote in his prologue to the 50 best songs of 2019, this year has been a rough one for us nervy types. Surely I’m not the only one who’s lost a job, or flirted with the fickle flames of romance, or clashed with former friends on opposing worldviews. But here I float today, at the top of the album cream, because ladies and gents and non-gents, I’ve missed you all. As a writer, I don’t just sit around in my orange office chair and string pop-bead-opinions together—I gather puzzle pieces so I can see more of the big picture. And when I clocked out, some of those pieces slipped through the cracks.

So for me, these 25 albums are stepping stones back to what I missed. Of course, these aren’t all new to me. My head was still in the clouds when Curt Castle drove his prismatic serenades across state lines; my hands could still trace the ornate symbols under the lace of Rose Hotel; my car could still safeguard secrets, like a confidential brief from Shepherds. But I missed the middle-class uprising that Mattiel orchestrated in her genius sophomore album. TWINS’ cold industrial dream had not crept into my consciousness. And the youthful power-pop of Wanderwild would’ve helped when I was down and out. But it’s not too late! Now that we’re gathered here, let’s relish together the wildly varied smorgasbord of talent and spirit that our neighbors and friends have conjured. Let’s turn up the volume and catch up over a cup of tea. We’ll both be OK. – Lee Adcock

[Chunklet Industries]

All the Saints

Look Like You’re Going Somewhere

Christ, what a record. Anyone who’s witnessed one of All the Saints’ tear-the-walls-down live shows shouldn’t be surprised by how much Look Like You’re Going Somewhere rips or the many inventive ways it does said ripping, but still. Fuuuuccck. This LP is nothing less than a masterclass in the last 40 years of underground rock. Scraping sheets of noise. Lurching stoner metal riffs. Mind-melting drone. Ambient post-rock reverie. Bruising hardcore intensity. And better yet, all of it is delivered in sweeping songs that feel epic, but more importantly, tuneful and human. I’m not sure what we did to deserve an All the Saints record in 2019, but let’s keep the blood magic going in 2020. – Guillermo Castro



[Self-released]

Calico Vision

Calico Vision

Have you ever been on ‘shroom trip that was eerily lucid and purely visual? No third-eye revelations. No muzzy retreats into your subconscious. Just a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of exploding colors and mutating light and shadow, all dancing to the secret rhythms of the universe. Take that experience, set it to music, and you’ll probably wind up with something like Calico Vision’s self-titled LP. It’s a psychedelic pop record in the broadest sense of the term. Within its shapeshifting sprawl, I hear the bright angular contortions of the Dismemberment Plan, the cosmic reverie of Tame Impala, and the neon pop maximalism of Of Montreal. I’m not sure I understand how the mechanics of any of this works, but it certainly makes for an ecstatically fun and fascinating ride. – GC



[Season of Mist]

Cloak

The Burning Dawn

Admittedly, I don’t keep up with metal much these days, but in 2019, a pair of killer local releases managed to slap the apathy right out of me (we’ll get to the second one further down the list). Cloak’s brand of fearsome rock and black metal is dark and sinister, and on The Burning Dawn, the group’s haunting atmospheres and frenzied grooves take center stage. Tracks like “Tempter’s Call,” “The Cleansing Fire,” and “On Poisoned Ground” intertwine frenetic riffs and gothic gloom in a manner that’s nearly anthemic with roaring choruses and melodic passages that provide balance to the band’s otherwise churning chaos. Sometimes you need a gut-punch to knock you back to your senses; apparently, The Burning Dawn was just the wallop I needed. – GC



[DKA Records]

CRT

CS2

With its harsh beats and grimy metallic lurch, opener “Deep Scan” sets the CS2‘s jarring tone, leaving the listener to decide just how much of their body and mind they want to surrender to CRT’s strident palpitations. There’s nothing particularly subtle or suggestive about the record, just an unrelenting industrial barrage that feels beautifully misanthropic, albeit fervently dance-worthy. Indeed, there’s a kind of manic pleasure in listening to Keenan’s warped drums and hyper-taut basslines stack themselves into all manner of contorted permutations. But while tracks like “Blister Pack” and “Body Traffic” thump and surge with apocalyptic fervor—all coiled robo-funk grooves and blown-out vocals—that air of anxiety and dread never dissipates. – GC

Read the full review of CS2.



[Self-released]

Curt Castle

If I’m Here At All

While Ryan Engelberger may not reside in Georgia anymore, his genteel debut as Curt Castle was very much a product of Athens and Atlanta. If I’m Here At All features a pristine prism of talent, from the Technicolor dreamscapes of Javier Morales (Dream Scene) to the autumnal acoustic picking of McKendrick Bearden (Grand Vapids) and the neon riffs from Josh Pittman (floral print). As colorful as the final product turned out, though, Engelberger’s knack for honest confession and ’80s AOR vibes bring everything together with a delicate pink sheen. – LA

Read our artist feature on Ryan Engelberger.