The 25 Best Debut Albums of 2022

Music Lists Debut Albums
The 25 Best Debut Albums of 2022

One of our favorite things here at Paste—indeed one of the reasons we started Paste Magazine 20 years ago—is to new artists find an audience and to help our audience discover great new music. We hope this list of the Best Debut Albums of 2022 turns you onto some new music that you’ll love. Some of these artists came roaring on the scene, while others are still hidden gems you’ve probably never heard. A few are new projects from legendary artists. But all of these are worth checking out.

Here are the 25 best debut albums of 2022:

25. Good Looks: Bummer Year

Austin’s Good Looks—Tyler Jordan (rhythm guitar, lead vocals), Jake Ames (guitar), Robert Cherry (bass), and Phillip Dunne (drums)—are an American band through and through, down to their painful awareness of how fucked up our country really is. Just take the eponymous centerpiece of their debut album Bummer Year, where Jordan refuses to give up on his old friends despite their politics: “I don’t think they’re evil, even when they’re awful / Not totally class conscious, but ultimately good,” he insists over War on Drugs-y fingerpicking, up front about his homeland’s fractures while remaining staunch in his belief they can—and must—be healed. Good Looks’ class-conscious Americana rock, tinged with rustic balladry (“Balmorhea”) and shoegaze propulsion (“21,” “Walker Lake”) alike, is dependably anthemic, and at just seven songs (though half an hour), Bummer Year will leave you wanting more. But it’s the band’s stubborn refusal to give hopelessness any ground that makes their first record so special, bummer year(s) be damned. —Scott Russell

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24. Fly Anakin: Frank

Rising rapper Fly Anakin’s debut album Frank is a love letter to the soul and R&B of his childhood, adding his own flair and painting a blank canvas with his picturesque lyricism. The Richmond rapper’s unique voice rests between snarling and singing, effortlessly delivering bars with a conversational tone that draws you in. Frank is anchored by Anakin, but is kept afloat with the help of his carefully curated set of collaborators, ranging from production legend Madlib and internet celebrity-turned-producer Jay Versace to underground rap stars Pink Siifu and Nickelus F. Frank is the perfect introduction to the thrilling mind of one of rap’s brightest. —Jade Gomez

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23. Panda Bear & Sonic Boom: Reset

Reset, the latest of Noah Lennox’s releases as Panda Bear, arguably draws from his strengths as a musician perpetually unstuck in time more than any of his earlier records. Curiously enough, the person bringing this element to the forefront is Spacemen 3’s Sonic Boom (aka Pete Kember), previously Lennox’s producer on Tomboy and Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper, taking on an equal role in performance this time around. Kember not only joins Lennox in his usual array of harmonizing vocals and synthesizers, but also offered the germ of Reset’s context—expanding on intros from records of pop’s earliest years as the primary foundation for multiple tracks. The effect is infectiously immediate from the album’s opening seconds. Even before either Lennox or Kember can be felt on the record, the triumphant acoustic guitar chords of Eddie Cochran’s “Three Steps to Heaven” burst forth. Lennox then emerges with a gleefully soaring vocal part, and the track—the magnificent tone-setter “Gettin’ to the Point”—fully becomes his and Kember’s. Much of the joy in Reset comes in instances like these, where Lennox and Kember wholeheartedly embrace the sounds of the past with a distinctly contemporary approach. —Natalie Marlin

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22. Enumclaw: Save the Baby

Enumclaw’s full-length debut Save the Baby shows a clear growth from the charming roughness of Jimbo Demo. There’s still the grungy scrappiness that will never go away, keeping in theme with the band’s humble beginnings as a group forged by YouTube tutorials and elbow grease. Lead single “Jimmy Neutron” opens with the band’s jovial chatter. From there, Gipson’s drums usher in Johnson and Cornell’s dreamy guitars. The difference in production quality is immediately noticeable. There is a depth and atmosphere to the song, indicative less of a sacrifice in their lo-fi aesthetics and more of the resources that give the band a chance to shine brightest. Throughout Save the Baby, there’s Jets to Brazil-esque guitar melodies and soaring solos. Johnson’s vocals are inflected with touches of pain, sarcasm and bemusement. If Jimbo Demo was created out of an urgent necessity to turn a dream into something tangible, then Save the Baby is Enumclaw capturing that lightning in a bottle and unleashing it as full-blown fireworks, a reward not only for those who stuck around, but also for themselves. —Jade Gomez

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21. Dazy: OUTOFBODY

If there’s one belief that guides James Goodson’s songwriting, it’s that rock music should be fun. You can’t miss this when you talk to him—on our hour-long call, he uses the word nine times. “We’re talking about catchy guitar music. I think it’s undeniable that this is fun stuff,” he says, with one of many laughs. “Guitars and loud music, and cool lyrics, and all these things, it should be moving you and hitting you on some level that almost gets around your brain.” Goodson spoke to Paste for the Best of What’s Next hours before kicking off a run of East Coast shows with his “Pressure Cooker” collaborators Militarie Gun (and MSPaint), and days before the release of his debut album, OUTOFBODY, out now on Lame-O Records. It’s hardly a position he thought he would end up in when he first started releasing music as Dazy in 2020: “I definitely did not expect anybody to find it at all, so to even be talking to you about it now is pretty wild,” says Goodson. But push play on any of his songs—I mean it, just throw a dart at his discography—and in a matter of seconds, you’ll see why listeners have gravitated to Dazy. Goodson’s one-man band has been fully formed from the start, and on OUTOFBODY, it only gets bigger and better. —Scott Russell

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20. The Linda Lindas: Growing Up

Ever since Mila de la Garza, Lucia de la Garza, Eloise Wong and Bela Salazar went viral with a performance of their absolute banger “Racist, Sexist Boy,” it’s been a whirlwind of a year for their band, The Linda Lindas. They’ve caught the attention of riot grrrl architects like Alice Bag, Phranc and Bikini Kill/Le Tigre’s Kathleen Hanna while carving out their own niche in the L.A. music scene, and did it all before most of them had even started high school. The group teamed up with producer Carlos de la Garza (Paramore, Bad Religion, Best Coast, Bleached) to make their highly anticipated full-length debut, Growing Up, writing separately during lockdown before reuniting to record. The finished product lives up to the initial hype, pulling from the group’s power-pop and new-wave influences to create an immediate, hooky collection of songs that feels lyrically honest while remaining playful. “You say it’s fine / It’s not fine!” singer/guitarist Lucia de la Garza shouts on “Fine,” making it clear the girls are not only here to be heard, but also to amplify the experiences of girls like them everywhere. —Elise Soutar

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19. caroline: caroline

The self-titled debut of London-based band caroline sounds like the kind of music you’d hear echoing across the barren wastelands of the post-apocalypse, reminding you of bygone days’ beauty while offering comfort that such beauty can still be found, as long as we have breath in our lungs, and each other. An eight-piece led by founding trio Casper Hughes, Jasper Llewellyn and Mike O’Malley, caroline combine choral vocals, orchestral splendor, rustic Appalachian folk accents and fearless post-rock, crafting sprawling songs that feel sparse, yet maximalist—both cosmic and distinctly of this earth. Tracks like “IWR” and “Good morning (red)” assemble and disassemble themselves in real time, with Oliver Hamilton and Magdalena McLean’s violins lending a particularly palpable emotion to their organic, protean arrangements. Silence is ever-present in caroline’s music, as if they’re constantly aware of not only what we have, but also what we stand to lose. It’s a stunning, life-affirming first full-length. —Scott Russell

18. THUS LOVE: Memorial

Having already garnered comparisons to everyone from labelmates DIIV to Bauhaus, THUS LOVE work in a lineage of post-punk artists that have come before; from the jangly haze of opener “Repetitioner” to the galloping groove of “Family Man,” their debut Memorial is an album that plays into the sharp, abrasive turns characteristic of the genre. The latter track, in particular, pairs the push-and-pull tension that great post-punk can execute with impressionistic observation that feels snide in its incisiveness (“Tuesday night happy-hour / Gasoline tearing down from the graze, they scour / Loose tin, melt down, make a mess reducing / All your day’s work to a single paragraph, repeating”) before the tension finally bubbles over into a final singalong refrain: “It’s alright,” guitarist/vocalist Echo Mars sneers as the music halts for her to deliver the final shot to the song’s subject, “I’m coming in closer.” —Elise Soutar

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17. CMAT: If My Wife New I’d Be Dead

Many people view themselves as the heroes of their own stories, but Dublin singer/songwriter Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson knows that more often than not, we’re all the villains. Combining retro-tinged country-pop hooks with self-effacing, quotable lyrics that tackle relationships, insomnia, urban isolation and a romantic longing for legendary director Peter Bogdonavich (all equally relatable subjects), CMAT captures the anxieties of modern life like few others can. Churning out lines like, “I just spent seven hours looking at old pics of me / Trying to pinpoint where the bitch began / Somewhere after the passion of Christ and before I had an Instagram,” you’ll need to listen more than once just to catch all of the witty, painful truths crammed into each song. If My Wife New I’d Be Dead may be the musical embodiment of the moment you ask yourself, “Wait … am I the problem?,” but it also operates on a strange sense of optimism, embracing the route of laughing through the tears and pulling the band-aid of self-sabotage off quickly in hopes of starting anew. —Elise Soutar

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16. Danger Mouse & Black Thought: Cheat Codes

Danger Mouse is a chameleon, assuming whatever identity and style are needed to allow his collaborators to shine. Philadelphia emcee Black Thought was the perfect choice. Together, the two created Cheat Codes, marrying sprawling jazz soundscapes with stream-of-consciousness raps. Whether working in seminal jazz-rap outfit The Roots or hopping on a project with Danger Mouse, Black Thought operates all the same, with a lyrical tunnel vision that challenges listeners to follow a winding trail to enlightenment. Danger Mouse adds a distinct analog-like feel, blurring the line between artificial and real as he layers drums, guitars and warm static into a playground for Black Thought to spit on. The sky is the limit on Cheat Codes, and the collaborators have only scratched the surface of their potential. —Jade Gomez

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15. Skullcrusher: Quiet the Room

On Skullcrusher’s (aka Helen Ballentine) debut album, she wastes no time teaching a master class on vulnerability. The songwriting is rooted in the confusion of childhood, examining Ballentine’s own through vaguely told memories and home-video voice memos. The guitar builds itself a home in the ambient, wide production. This is certainly not an album to be pigeonholed into one genre—the influences on this album range all over the board, and include a lot of electronic artists. It peels back the curtains from the culturally romanticized image of childhood, revealing it as a time with the same pain and confusion, as well as abstract joy as any other part of life. Being young is anything but simple, and those dreams and experiences spin around in Ballentine’s mind years after moving away from her childhood home in New York state. In describing the songwriting process involved on the album, Ballentine says, “I viewed my younger self through a wash of emotions: anger, sadness, pity, confusion, all reaching for a kind of compassion. I tried to capture the contradictions that comprise my past and define who I am now. As I looked back, I saw my life in pieces: some moments blacked out, some extremely vivid, some leading nowhere.” The resulting LP is a shivering look inside yourself through the memories of another. —Rosa Sofia Kaminski

14. Shygirl: Nymph

Sweet and sensual at turns, the full-length debut of Shygirl wields desire like a weapon, just like the mythical spirits, known for their beauty, who share its name. The rising U.K. experimental-pop artist had been teasing her follow-up to 2020’s ALIAS EP since the spring, with singles “Firefly,” “Come for Me,” “Coochie (a bedtime story),” “Nike” and “Shlut” providing a wide-ranging preview of the much-anticipated Nymph. Created alongside collaborators Arca, Sega Bodega, Karma Kid, Cosha and Mura Masa, as well as producers Noah Goldstein, Danny L Harle, BloodPop, Vegyn and Kingdom, the album is both disorienting and intoxicating. Shygirl deconstructs dance music, gliding over her twitchy instrumentals with the confidence of an artist coming into their own in real time. “Dream of your touch / I’m so lost in your world,” she sings on lovesick, yet haunting closer “Wildfire,” though the more likely scenario is you getting lost in hers. —Scott Russell

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13. Babehoven: Light Moving Time

When Maya Bon and Ryan Albert met with their future label Double Double Whammy for the first time, they brought a collection of plump, homegrown tomatoes for the occasion. That pastoral touch mirrors what the duo accomplish in their music as Babehoven. As practitioners of homespun indie rock, there’s a picturesque quality to their work that renders each listen multi-sensory. The Babehoven sound has a cooling texture, a verdant visual, an organic taste. But over six EPs in four years, the duo presented diverse approaches to cultivating those sensations, including soft, frank rock on Demonstrating Visible Differences in Height, haunting tape manipulation on Yellow Has a Pretty Good Reputation and molasses-slow folk on Sunk. The duo combine each of these styles and more on Light Moving Time, their long-anticipated debut LP. On Light Moving Time, Babehoven are not in a rush. Relaxed tempos are central to their discography. Babehoven are Duster superfans and their shared preference for DIY recording gives the music its contemplative, hand-hewn texture. Their music rests at the intersection of the observant lyricism of Roy Orbison and the rhythmic creativity of Dear Nora. The resultant artifact is as crisp and pensive as the undulating Appalachian foothills. —Devon Chodzin

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12. Why Bonnie: 90 In November

Though they’ve been rehearsing for this moment for some time, releasing EPs that skew towards indie pop since 2018, Why Bonnie appear fully formed on their debut album 90 in November. Out via Austin-based Keeled Scales, their warm, twangy brand of indie rock feels right at home with that of their label-mates Sun June, Good Looks and Katy Kirby. The label’s recent, glorious run has seen them uplifting a unique rock scene that captures the simultaneously grounded, yet majestic nature of their home state—90 in November is just the latest entry. Why Bonnie’s named influences are acts like Sheryl Crow, The Replacements and Townes Van Zandt. With inspiration taken from all sides of rock music, it’s easy to see how they seamlessly straddle the lines between several genres themselves. They make indie rock, sure, but there’s an undeniable current of country music in there, as well as some nods to pop songwriting in their hooky, melodic execution. These disparate influences also bolster their music with a sense of familiarity. —Eric Bennett

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11. Cola: Deep In View

For Ought’s Tim Darcy and Ben Stidworthy, forming Cola—their new band with U.S. Girls/The Weather Station drummer Evan Cartwright—was like giving a frozen-up laptop a hard reset. Shedding the expectations that had piled up around their former band, Darcy and Stidworthy found that their collaboration with Cartwright came naturally, with Deep In View as our first long look at what the trio can do. As exhibited by the album’s many singles, including “Blank Curtain,” “So Excited,” “Water Table,” “Degree” and “Fulton Park,” Deep In View is an album that stands shoulder to shoulder with anything in Ought’s esteemed catalog. But that’s not to say Cola aren’t shaping a nascent legacy of their own: Cartwright brings intriguing new rhythms into the fold, complicating Darcy and Stidworthy’s nervy, melodic post-punk in ways that feel true to its origins. —Scott Russell

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10. Dawn Richard and Spencer Zahn: Pigments

On last year’s acclaimed Second Line, Dawn Richard animated her electro-pop autobiographies with the spirit of her native New Orleans. But on Pigments, she casts her vocals in a radically different light, reuniting with her People of the Dawn collaborator Spencer Zahn to create one continuous composition, structured into three distinct movements. Multi-instrumentalist, producer and composer Zahn conjures classical, jazz and ambient electronic soundscapes that fill meditative tracks like “Coral,” “Indigo,” “Opal” and “Cobalt” entirely, but Pigments is at its most potent when Richard’s vocals wander these sonic thickets, journeying in search of love and understanding. “Dreamer / I wanna love like you / I wanna see the world through your eyes,” she croons through autotune on “Sandstone,” bass notes, woodwinds and piano keys swirling around her, while on “Vantablack,” she cherishes her (lover’s) color, asking, “Can I fall in? / Brown skin.” “Can you save me the last dance?” Richard implores on “Saffron,” before the pulsing beat of “Umber” ends the album by doing just that. Richard and Zahn paint Pigments with every color on their palettes, and the result is a celebration of art’s infinite possibilities. —Scott Russell

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9. Yard Act: The Overload

If we all must fall victims to the ceaseless malaise that is our slowly unfolding apocalypse, it’s at least fortunate that our misery is soundtracked by the quirked-up observers in the current U.K. post-punk scene. Dubbed “The Post-Brexit New Wave,” groups like Squid, Black Country, New Road, and Dry Cleaning have proven themselves compelling cultural narrators, capturing the essence of our entropy through their bluntly disorienting lyrics and often deadpan, ironic styles. Enter Yard Act. A little bit Sleaford Mods, a helping of The Fall and a dash of Pulp, the group craft smart vignettes of modern life with a confident, witty delivery across their debut full-length, The Overload. Be it as someone recently flush with cash observing their own transformation at the hand of wealth, or a football captain whose life was washed away in a sea of disinterest, the sharp observations of vocalist James Smith contort everyday melancholy into a charming self-portrait—functioning like a reminder of the absurdities and pitfalls of life that define and unite us in the human condition. —Jason Friedman

8. Sadurn: Radiator

There are few more gratifying feelings than hearing a new song, only to realize you were waiting for something just like it to come along. It’s like scratching an itch you didn’t know you had, or pushing a lost puzzle piece into place inside your brain. That was exactly the case when Philadelphia four-piece Sadurn announced their signing to Run for Cover in February and shared the lead track from their debut album, “snake.” Led by vocalist-guitarist and songwriter Genevieve DeGroot, Sadurn are a band who move as one in service of each song, disappearing selflessly into their intimate, gentle folk-rock and -pop compositions. DeGroot’s songwriting is defined by its stark vulnerability, their vocals alternately soaring and softening in time with each heart-baring observation on strained relationships and the often unbridgeable gaps between people. Radiator is just what its title suggests, emanating emotional catharsis even as it handles those feelings with the utmost care. —Scott Russell

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7. Plains: I Walked with You a Ways

On the heels of their acclaimed 2020 albums Saint Cloud and Sorceress, Waxahatchee’s Katie Crutchfield and Jess Williamson decided to start down a new road, walking arm in arm as Plains. The duo’s first album I Walked with You a Ways, produced by Crutchfield’s Saint Cloud collaborator Brad Cook, will also be their last—Crutchfield and Williamson have declared this a one-time collaboration, which is all the more reason to cherish the resulting record. As the pair interweave their voices over warm Americana that’s at turns upbeat and wistful—and sometimes both at once—Plains invite the listener into a shared, communal space, wallpapered with the classic folk and country they grew up on. Tracks like “Problem With It” and “Line of Sight” lean hard on Crutchfield’s knockout vocal hooks, while “Abilene” and “Bellafatima” let Williamson’s more delicate presence sneak up on you. It’s rewarding to hear Crutchfield and Williamson’s ample talents intermingle as they shape I Walked with You a Ways into a celebration of their shared passions. —Scott Russell

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6. The Smile: A Light For Attracting Attention

During the first year of the pandemic, as Radiohead seemingly shifted from active band to archival project, Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood did something they haven’t done since their teenage years: They formed a new band together. They called it The Smile—a reference to a Ted Hughes poem, not their sunny dispositions, in case there was any confusion—and they invited Tom Skinner, drummer for the British jazz group Sons of Kemet, to fill the intimidating position of the sole non-Radiohead member of the trio. Nearly half the time, A Light for Attracting Attention buzzes and crackles with a sense of reckless abandon absent from the last 15 years’ worth of Radiohead releases. “You Will Never Work in Television Again” has the high-octane guitars and mile-a-minute Yorke delivery to boost a dead person’s heart rate. It’s a revelation. “Thin Thing” is menacing and wonky, with a burbling guitar riff that seems maximized to confuse those YouTube guitar tutorial guys. These songs are insular and anxiety-ridden, shorn of soaring choruses or straightforward rhythms, but they are also invigorating jolts of art-rock energy. Like much of this album, the emphasis is on proggy interplay over studio trickery. But this is hardly a barebones garage-rock diversion. The Smile contain multitudes. No Radiohead side project has ever sounded quite as much like Radiohead as this band does, invoking many eras of the band’s career at once. I assume I Can’t Believe It’s Not Radiohead! was a rejected album title. —Zach Schonfeld

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5. Jockstrap: I Love You Jennifer B

The debut album from London duo Jockstrap—Georgia Ellery, also of Black Country, New Road, and Taylor Skye—takes all of one minute to announce itself as something remarkable. Opener “Neon” draws you in with sparse acoustic guitar and Ellery’s lithe vocal, only to wallop you with rib cage-rattling bass, a film score-esque theremin sample and a ghostly chorus. It’s the first “holy shit” moment of many on the record, “a collection of Jockstrap tracks that have been three years in the making,” per the duo. Dramatic strings, synths and chanting usher “Concrete Over Water” into EDM banger mode; harp plucks flicker between organic and artificial to introduce “Angst”; closer “50/50” feels like a club anthem for the end of the world. Euphoric and disorienting at once, their deconstructed dance-pop music brings cubist art to mind, assembling familiar shapes into structures that are altogether alien. As Jockstrap leave the launchpad, you can either crane your neck at their dizzying ascent, or hold on for dear life and enjoy the ride, wherever it may take you. —Scott Russell

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4. Chat Pile: God’s Country

Chat Pile’s debut LP ends with a nine-minute narrative that sounds outlandish on paper: A man is tormented by a nightmare figure resembling McDonald’s mascot Grimace, to the point of suicide. The surreally macabre premise is heightened all the more by the track’s name: “Grimace_Smoking_Weed.jpeg,” a title calling to mind a tossed-off joke file name or online message to a friend in lieu of an actual image. But the song itself is arguably the most chilling selection on an already-bleak record, in no small part due to vocalist Raygun Busch’s tortured contributions that sound an inch from self-destructive action at a moment’s notice—even before erupting into agonized shrieks in protest of the “purple man” who haunts him. When the track’s back half stretches into a sludgy death march, his lyrics become all the more direct, culminating in Busch crying out, “I don’t wanna be alive anymore / Do you?” The pressure of the track proves to be so suffocating that even Busch’s final scream of Grimace’s name to close the album becomes bloodcurdling, where a more ironic approach would have rendered the whole thing high camp. “Grimace_Smoking_Weed.jpeg” is, in microcosm, emblematic of the tricky balance Chat Pile evokes with visceral ugliness throughout God’s Country. The absurdity and paradox of capitalist landscapes are laid bare, depicted with just as much horror as the band believes they ought to merit. Just as characters for fast-food marketing and toys become taunting reminders of the soul-crushing nature of post-industrialization, so, too, does the illogical nature of houselessness in a nation with buildings to spare, and the pursuit of wealth above personal fulfillment. —Natalie Marlin

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3. Horsegirl: Versions of Modern Performance

Horsegirl are three friends who make music in a basement. It’s true, and they want you to know that, not because they’re shy about the attention they’ve received as indie rock’s latest breakthrough, but because the Chicago trio of Penelope Lowenstein, Nora Cheng and Gigi Reece want you to know that they’re having fun. They’re accomplishing that in the way that only passionate teenagers can: professing their admiration for Kim Gordon, painting T-shirts haphazardly, and throwing riffs against the wall until they unfurl into songs. The end product of those basement hangs, Versions of Modern Performance, impressively combines noisy, punk-minded influences that congeal into a wondrous concoction of post-punk, no-wave, early shoegaze, and more. While inspired by the ’80s and ’90s cadres of emergent indie rock’s noisier actors, Horsegirl’s sound is singular, curious and glossed with a healthy layer of irony that Gen Z wears like a reliable pair of workboots. —Devon Chodzin

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2. Ethel Cain: Preacher’s Daughter

After last year’s monster EP Inbred, Ethel Cain is on a brilliant ascent. Inbred solidified her position as a force to be witnessed in American music as she wrestled with the uniquely Southern version of the American dream that shaped her young life. The divinity of gospel, the audacity of heartland rock and the frankness of 2010s Tumblr-era pop collide into an arresting narrative spectacle, portraying the experience of a woman who is intimately familiar with depraved violence, the gospel and the strict social hierarchies of the South and the Plains. The EPs have only revealed a portion of Cain’s lore, but on her whopping 75-minute debut LP Preacher’s Daughter, Ethel Cain, the narrative figure and the musical sensation, manifests a breathtaking account of a woman, her mysterious partner and her troubled family. Much as Inbred mangled Americana, ambient folk and slowcore into a terrifying sonic experiment, Preacher’s Daughter is a sound all its own. Imagine what would happen if singers as familiar as Bruce Springsteen or Nichole Nordeman were backed by Midwife or Sunn O))). The glamorous and aphrodisiac sound of Lana Del Rey is undoubtedly there, but the thematic and instrumental elements on Preacher’s Daughter possess a weightiness and impulse away from ironic glamorization of the American dream and toward outright criticism that render the comparison only so relevant. At times the record throbs with a noisy, immersive intensity before transitioning into the kind of epic guitar solos that decorated the cult of rock personalities in generations past. This collision of dark ambient and Def Leppard is uniquely American in the best way conceivable. —Devon Chodzin

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1. Wet Leg: Wet Leg

If Wet Leg’s only achievement had been demonstrating the correct pronunciation of a popular seating option with their 2021 single “Chaise Longue,” that would have been enough. The song is droll and hooky, a blast of anarchic energy packed into three-ish minutes of deadpan vocals and careening guitars. Turns out that’s not their only achievement. In fact, “Chaise Longue” is basically a setup for Wet Leg’s self-titled first album, a gleefully bawdy, often adrenalizing exploration of ennui, lust and catharsis. It can be tempting to think (or fear) that a band that debuts with a funny song is destined to be a gimmick, but Wet Leg principles Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers dispel any such concern with a display of range and depth on these 12 songs. They do angular indie rock with precise, metronomic vocals on “Angelica,” there’s a dance-y beat pushing a bright melody on “Ur Mom” as buzzsaw guitars come and go, and “Supermarket” winds around on shambling guitars and loose-limbed backing vocals, like some slacker-rock anthem from people who aren’t really slackers at all. —Eric R. Danton

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