“Uptown Funk” opened 2015 by daring the rest of pop music to be as fun, and not much else quite matched it on that front — Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars had assembled something so precisely calibrated to delight that it almost didn’t seem fair. From there the year spread out in several directions at once. Drake’s “Hotline Bling” turned a mid-tempo, vaguely melancholic R&B track into a cultural event largely on the strength of its own awkwardness. The Weeknd crossed into genuine ubiquity with “Can’t Feel My Face” — a song that managed to be both a mainstream smash and, lyrically, a fairly dark piece of work. And then there was Adele, who released “Hello” in October and promptly reminded everyone that a big voice and a big melody, executed without a trace of irony, can still stop a room. The song broke streaming records almost immediately and felt, in its very straightforwardness, like a rebuke to the year’s more studied cool.
If one artist owned 2015 critically, it was Kendrick Lamar. To Pimp a Butterfly arrived in March and immediately reoriented conversations about what rap could do structurally and politically. “King Kunta” was the album’s most visceral punch — confrontational, funky, and specific in its references in ways that rewarded close listening. Elsewhere in hip-hop, Fetty Wap’s “Trap Queen” was one of the year’s most improbable success stories: a track rooted in trap music’s skeletal, skittering beats but softened by Fetty’s melodic looseness and a surprisingly affectionate lyrical premise. It peaked at number two on the Hot 100 and spent most of the year on the chart. Rihanna’s “Bitch Better Have My Money” drew from the same trap well but to a very different emotional effect — harder, more confrontational, and delivered with a precision that made the demand feel non-negotiable. Nicki Minaj, meanwhile, was doing something technically sharp on “Truffle Butter”: she announces early in her verse that she has a dozen flows, and then proceeds to demonstrate it, cycling through registers and tempos within a few bars in a way that most listeners registered as energy without necessarily clocking how much control it required.
Some of the year’s most durable music came from artists working at a slight remove from the mainstream. Carly Rae Jepsen’s Emotion became a critical darling almost in slow motion — “Run Away With Me” is the kind of opening track that makes you understand why people proselytize about a record. Tame Impala released Currents, and “Let It Happen” announced a shift toward synthesizers and a more expansive, unhurried sound that influenced a lot of what followed. Courtney Barnett’s “Pedestrian At Best” was wired and funny, running on nervous energy throughout. Grimes put out “Realiti” as a demo and it felt more fully realized than most finished records.
The year also had room for artists doing something closer to American roots music, though rarely in straightforward ways. Leon Bridges arrived with “Coming Home,” drawing on early soul so precisely that it occasionally felt like an exercise, but an extremely well-executed one. Alabama Shakes’ “Don’t Wanna Fight” was rawer and harder to categorize — Brittany Howard never let genre expectations dictate what she does, and her voice on that track does things that make those expectations feel beside the point. Father John Misty’s “Chateau Lobby #4” was a love song about his wife, filtered through deliberately bizarre imagery — satanic Christmas Eve, a wedding dress someone was probably murdered in — that somehow landed as genuinely romantic. Sufjan Stevens released Carrie & Lowell, and “Should Have Known Better” is among the most quietly devastating songs of the decade — it moves from grief into something that feels, carefully and without overselling it, like hope.
What holds this particular year together isn’t a unified sound but a productive restlessness. Run The Jewels brought Zack De La Rocha in for “Close Your Eyes (And Count to Fuck)” and made something that sounded urgently necessary. Skepta’s “Shutdown” was a reminder that grime had been building momentum for years and was finally getting its due internationally. Missy Elliott, back after a long absence, sounded exactly like herself on “WTF (Where They From)” — which is to say, like nobody else. Thundercat’s “Them Changes” and Julia Holter’s “Feel You” pointed toward where adventurous R&B and jazz-adjacent pop would head over the next several years. EL VY — the side project of National frontman Matt Berninger — closed things out with a song whose title alone (“Return to the Moon (Political Song for Didi Bloome to Sing, with Crescendo)”) tells you something about the year’s appetite for work that didn’t feel the need to make things simple.
Dig into thirty of the best offerings from 2015.
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