This is Fifty Second Week.

It’s also Christmas Day. I hope you’re all having a wonderful time with family and friends, and enjoying some Christmas music. I can’t predict the future (I’m writing this a week in advance), but I’m pretty sure I’m doing the same thing right now. Perhaps in an ugly sweater. I’m on my annual vacation to the east coast, and hopefully loving every minute of it.

But I couldn’t leave you without any tm3am goodness for the entire holiday season. This is my last column of 2018, and it’s my traditional Fifty Second Week. If you’re new to this silly music column, let me tell you how this goes. I buy a lot of music during the year, and I try to hear all of it, but I’m never quite successful at that. I get to review only a small subset of the albums I hear, too. The result of all this is that, by the time I get to December, I’ve built up a backlog of unreviewed records.

So Fifty Second Week is my attempt each year to get to as many of those records as I can. I have 52 CDs in front of me, and one of those nifty online timers on my phone. I’m giving myself 50 seconds to review each of these albums. That’s all I get – if I’m in the middle of a sentence when the timers go off, it’s pencils up. Exciting, I know! This could wind up as completely unreadable gibberish!

Anyway, I hope this is as much fun for you to read as it is for me to write. Let’s get going. This is Fifty Second Week.

Aphex Twin, Collapse EP.

Every once in a while Richard James likes to remind us that he’s alive and still one of the most brilliant electronic producers on earth. This is a quick EP with titles like “MT1 t29r2,” and it’s glitchy and complex and fascinating.

Arthur Buck.

As the name implies, this is a duo project between Joseph Arthur and Peter Buck of R.E.M. It ends up sounding more like Arthur than Buck, but the songs are decent, and I hope they stick together and make another one.

Autechre, NTS Sessions.

Fifty seconds to review eight hours of music? Can’t be done. This is an intense electronic journey on a staggering eight CDs, full of noise and trippy beats and an hour-long ambient piece to close things out. It’s immense and really excellent stuff.

Beach House, 7.

I’m not sure why I didn’t review this. I’ve opined on almost all of the previous Beach House records, and it might be that I’ve said everything I have to say about them. This is more sleepy shoegaze with the occasional striking melody, and it’s good, but nothing different from what they’ve given us before.

Ben Folds Five, The Complete Sessions at West 54th.

Not a new record, but a release (finally) of a legendary Ben Folds Five live outing around the time of Whatever and Ever Amen. The Five were a tremendous live outfit, and this record finds them slamming through early, punky songs with lots of energy.

Blood Orange, Negro Swan.

I really wanted to like this. Dev Hynes is a great musician, but Negro Swan just kind of wanders around looking for a hook for most of its running time. It reminds me of Frank Ocean, and I’ve never been a fan of his work. Hopefully the next record will have more focus, because Hynes is too good for this thing.

Charles Bradley, Black Velvet.

Soul singer Charles Bradley died earlier this year, far too soon. He was discovered late in life, and we only got a few albums with his thick, powerful voice. This one is a hodgepodge of recordings he made shortly before his death, but it’s really good, as usual.

The Carters, Everything is Love.

I bought this to round out the Lemonade/4:44 trilogy, and it’s, you know, fine. For an album featuring Beyonce and Jay-Z, it’s surprisingly slapdash and low-key. I’m not sure if they plan to keep collaborating, but I hope the next time they do they come up with something more exciting.

Chvrches, Love is Dead.

Here’s another band that turned in an album that sounds remarkably like their previous work. There are some very good songs on Love is Dead, and Lauren Mayberry continues to be an arresting frontwoman. But there isn’t a lot of variety here, and if you have the first two Chvrches records, you should be fine.

Cloud Nothings, Last Building Burning.

This is a legitimately awesome record and I should have reviewed it. Dylan Baldi takes his band through an absolutely ripping set of fast-paced screamers that sound like the group literally tearing down the walls around them. It’s intense and terrific.

The Collection, Entropy.

This is for Jenette Sturges, who badgered me to try this band for months. Entropy is a pretty good dramatic folk record with some sad songs that stayed with me. The Collection is a pretty good band and I wish I’d listened to Jenette and heard them sooner.

Dead Can Dance, Dionysus.

The Dead Can Dance renaissance continues with this shorter, yet no less powerful record. The band’s signature soundscapes are in full effect over two continuous acts of lovely, dark, delightful music. It’s so nice to have this group back again.

Eminem, Kamikaze.

Em has said he didn’t think too much about this one, and it shows. It feels tossed off, and really focuses in on aspects of his life and personality that no one but he cares about. He seems to make bad records when he’s trying and when he’s not trying, and I’m not sure where that leaves him.

Ester Drang, The Appearances.

Ester Drang’s first record in 12 years is this EP on which they go full shoegaze. The guitars are thick and yet sound light-years away, and everything feels very My Bloody Valentine. I am a fan of the Starflyer 59 cover here, though.

The Family Crest, The War Act I.

I discovered this fantastic orchestral rock band this year, as they began this multi-album saga. This is right up my alley – dramatic songs with about 100 players adding to the epic sound. The songs are wonderful. I can’t wait to hear more from them.

Gorillaz, The Now Now.

Sort of The Fall redux, this shorter album following a longer one full of guest stars feels like a coda or an afterthought. It isn’t bad, and it’s more of a piece with Humanz than The Fall was with Plastic Beach, but it feels oddly inessential.

Laura Jane Grace and the Devouring Mothers, Bought to Rot.

The first solo album from the Against Me frontwoman is a surprise: a dark semi-acoustic country-esque thing with funny and poignant songs galore. I’m especially fond of “I Hate Chicago,” which many of my local friends seem to love too.

Great White, Full Circle.

Yes, they are still around. No, this isn’t Jack Russell’s Great White, this is the rest of the band with a new singer. Full Circle isn’t bad, but it is pretty generic, and it isn’t much different from bar-band music you can hear any weekend in any city in America.

Haken, Vector.

I really got into this prog-metal band this year, and their fifth album is of a piece with their other four. It’s a conceptual piece with some killer riffs and some great instrumental interplay. If the next generation needs a prog-metal band, these guys should fit the bill nicely.

Imogen Heap, The Music of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.

I had no idea that Imogen Heap wrote more than an hour of new music for The Cursed Child. This is instrumental wonderment in four suites, and some of it is based on her earlier work, but some of it is brand new. It’s all splendid, as you’d expect from a genius like Imogen.

Julia Holter, Aviary.

Bought this massive effort on a recommendation. It’s Bjork levels of strange, and it goes on forever, but it’s pretty intricate and interesting stuff. I can’t say any of it moved me or blew me away, but I’m happy to know Holter’s work now, and I will be following it.

Jon Hopkins, Singularity.

Nothing less than the best electronic album I heard in 2018. Not sure why I didn’t give this a full review, but it gets a high recommendation from me. Hopkins has been a terrific composer and musician for a long time, and this might be the best chill-out music he’s made.

Howling Sycamore.

Still have no idea what to make of this. It’s legit heavy metal, but with Jason McMaster of Dangerous Toys wailing all over it. If it’s a parody, no one told the band. If it’s meant to be serious, no one told McMaster. Either way, this doesn’t work at all.

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, Live at the Ryman.

Absolutely my favorite live album of 2018. Isbell has been on a serious roll lately – his last three albums have all been various shades of brilliant – and if you want some idea of how consistent he’s been, listen to this. It draws heavily from those last three, and the band is spot on. Isbell gets his due as a songwriter, and he deserves to.

Mark Knopfler, Down the Road Wherever.

I could listen to Knopfler play guitar for weeks on end and not get bored. His latest solo album doesn’t break any new ground – it’s still folksy with a little Dire Straits rock thrown in. But that guitar sound! It’s inimitable. You know you’re listening to Knopfler within seconds, and it’s just blissful.

Gelb Kolyadin.

I bought this because Marillion’s Steve Hogarth is on it, providing vocals on two songs. This is a solo record from the piano player of Iamthemorning, and it’s so good that it led me to buy everything by Kolyadin’s main band. These are elegant songs with drama to them, and Hogarth fits in nicely.

Leprous, Malina.

Another interesting prog-metal band I discovered this year. I saw them live with Between the Buried and Me, and they were pretty good, but on record they’re way more impressive. Their song structures are strange and fascinating, and this album takes you by the hand and leads you all the way through it.

Lord Huron, Vide Noir.

Another intricate-sounding record from these swampy folk-rockers, and it’s pretty great. I’m a fan of the two-part “Ancient Names,” but all of this works for me. Long live Lord Huron.

Minus the Bear, Fair Enough.

I am sad to learn that this four-song EP is the final release from Minus the Bear. This band had two lives – first as a guitar-heavy prog-influenced band and second as a keyboard-loving Rush-alike. This EP caps off the second life, and it’s good stuff. I will miss them.

Tom Morello, The Atlas Underground.

The first true solo album from the Rage Against the Machine guitarist is a guest-heavy affair that falls flat at every opportunity. I wish this were not the case, but between this and Prophets of Rage, it hasn’t been a good couple years for Morello fans.

Mt. Desolation, When the Night Calls.

Second album from this Keane side project is much like the first – country-inflected pop songs sung with a little shakiness by Tim Rice-Oxley. This isn’t bad, but it isn’t memorable, and it just seems to forestall that inevitable and much-wanted Keane reunion.

Kacey Musgraves, Golden Hour.

One of the few records on this list that I straight-up love and should have reviewed more fully. This is a breezy folk-pop album, a turn away from country for Musgraves and into something warmer and more beautiful. I could listen to this on repeat for hours.

Meg Myers, Take Me To the Disco.

Second album from depresso-rocker Myers is exactly like her first. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, and these songs are solid and full of life. I think this is the last clone of herself she gets to make, though. I’m interested to hear someone with such obvious talent evolve and do something new.

Willie Nelson, My Way.

An album of Sinatra songs is not the first thing I would expect from this still-kicking country outlaw, but this is pretty good. The arrangements are more on the Sinatra side than the Nelson one, but his supple voice fits in with them well. A nice experiment.

Orbital, Monsters Exist.

Another welcome return, this album for me is all about the last track. “There Will Come a Time” is a swell collaboration with Prof. Brian Cox about the end of the universe, and about how our mortality should make us better and more loving people. The rest of this album is standard Orbital, all instrumental synth madness. Welcome back, guys.

Our Lady Peace, Somethingness.

This nine-song record seems to indicate a lack of effort, but it shows that Our Lady Peace is still capable of making some pretty interesting music. Raine Maida sounds a little older and a little more worn, but his elastic voice is still the main selling point.

Peter Bjorn and John, Darker Days.

True to its title, this is a darker album from these Swedish pop wunderkinds, exploring some minor keys and more serious lyrics. But it’s still a great deal of fun, and as ever it sounds like it was put together by polished, accomplished craftsmen.

Dug Pinnick, Tribute to Jimi.

It shouldn’t be any surprise that the King’s X frontman loves Jimi Hendrix. You can hear his influence all over Dug’s solo work especially. This is a pretty decent tribute record, with Pinnick’s versions of some of Hendrix’s best known songs. No surprises, but fun.

The Prodigy, No Tourists.

The Prodigy seems content giving us the same record over and over again. This is boom-boom beats and Liam Howlett’s braying, and it works as well as it always has. Really, it does sound like the same record as last time and the time before, but I keep buying them, so maybe I’m the fool here.

Ben Rector, Magic.

A more produced and hit-hungry record from this piano-popper, but it still contains big helpings of his trademark suburban wit. I love “Old Friends,” corny as it is, and “Duo” made me smile. I hoped for more from Rector, and I hope his radio-driven phase ends soon.

Mike Shinoda, Post Traumatic.

Surprisingly effective solo record from the creative driver of Linkin Park. This album was recorded in the wake of Chester Bennington’s suicide, and his spectre haunts the whole thing. Shinoda uses this music to work through his grief and his uncertainty about what to do next. It’s emotionally heavy but enjoyable all the same.

Soulfly, Ritual.

Eleventh album from Max Cavalera’s post-Sepultura metal band, and they still kick ass. This is a solid, compact slice of heavy riffing with some interesting percussion and another installment of their instrumental “Soulfly” series. It’s just another Soulfly album, but it’s been a while since they’ve made a bad one.

Spiritualized, And Nothing Hurt.

I really want to get Spiritualized, but I don’t. These songs are too simple for me, too basic, and Jason Pierce works really hard on the arrangements and the production, and it always sounds like polishing a turd to me. The songs bore me to tears. I wish I liked this. I really do.

Sun Kil Moon, This is My Dinner.

Speaking of being bored to tears, here’s 90 more minutes of diary-entry ramblings from Mark Kozelek. This one feels like a waste of a good band, since the sound is fantastic. But the endless nature of the stream-of-consciousness songs sinks this.

Matthew Sweet, Tomorrow’s Daughter.

Official release of the bonus disc from Tomorrow Forever. This is another dozen swell Sweet songs, the product of a huge seam of inspiration over the last couple years. Together, these two Tomorrow albums represent the best work he’s done in more than a decade.

Teenage Wrist, Chrome Neon Jesus.

Another new discovery, this band makes me yearn for the glory days of Catherine Wheel. They’re shoegaze-y but smart and melodic and full of life. I’ve listened to this far more often than you’d think, considering I never mentioned it in this column. I’d call them one of my favorite new bands of the year.

Titus Andronicus, A Productive Cough.

This is half the length of the last Titus record and twice as hard to get through. Patrick Stickles indulges his love of simple Americana here, and writes these “epic” Bob Dylan-style songs that go on forever without doing anything. To drive the point home, he covers “Like a Rolling Stone.” For eight minutes. Ugh.

Jeff Tweedy, Warm.

People seem to like this solo effort from the Wilco frontman. I got about three sloppy strums into It before deciding I would hate it forever. The rest of the record didn’t change my mind. More like lukewarm. Tepid, even.

Various Artists, Johnny Cash: The Music: Forever Words.

An unwieldy title for a surprisingly successful tribute album. This is new songs written around existing and unused Johnny Cash lyrics, and the strong list of performers and composers take this as the honor it is and turn in excellent work. Elvis Costello’s track is a highlight.

Vengeance, Human Sacrifice (The First Mix).

The first Christian thrash metal album ever, now in a rawer and more immediate mix. It’s like hearing it for the first time. The band sounds like they are in the room with you. I love this album so much that I was happy to buy this alternate version of it, and it may supplant the original mix in my canon.

Kamasi Washington, Heaven and Earth.

Washington is so good. This is another double-length extravaganza from the jazz saxophone prodigy, with a hidden third disc that brings the running time over three hours. It’s extraordinary stuff, full and rich and wild when it needs to be, yet restrained when it should be. Excellent stuff.

Thom Yorke, Suspira.

This lengthy score to the new Suspira film is the first bit of Thom Yorke’s solo career I really like. It’s effective and creepy and, as it’s a film score, it doesn’t matter that most of it is soundscapes without songs. The songs here are really good too, though. I know some were worried about Thom messing with the original score, but this works really well.

And that will do it for another year. I’ll be taking next week off, and maybe the week after that as well. After 18 years I need a bit of a breather. But don’t worry, I’ll be back in 2019 with more weekly musical musings. Thank you, more than I can say, to those who have followed along on this journey and interacted with me through this column. You’re the reason I keep writing it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

See you in year 19. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning… and to all a good night.

Welcome to my top 10 list column.

As I mentioned last week, we have nine very good records and one great one to get through. And as I may not have mentioned, the fact that the gulf between the great album and the very good ones is so massive means that we’re really dealing with my personal taste here. If you want to quibble with any of these (except the top pick, of course) and suggest that any from my honorable mentions column should be here instead, I won’t argue. These are just the ones I listened to most, the ones that resonated with me. Your mileage may vary. Except for the number one pick. I’ll dig in pretty hard on that one.

OK, let’s get right to it. Here is my 2018 top 10 list in all its glory.

#10. Neneh Cherry, Broken Politics.

I’ve been a Neneh Cherry fan since the release of her extraordinary second album, Homebrew, in 1992. Since then she’s proven herself again and again as an unpredictable and fearless artist. Broken Politics is her fifth album, and her second with Kieran Hebden, also known as Four Tet, behind the boards. It’s her most pointed work, taking aim at a host of social ills, but it’s also perhaps her most beautiful. Cherry and Hebden concocted some gorgeous near-ambient electronic settings in which to place Cherry’s fitful, restless voice, and on songs like “Kong” and the awesome “Faster Than the Truth,” that combination strikes gold. Cherry has never let me down, and on Broken Politics she aims high and gets there with apparent ease.

#9. The Choir, Bloodshot.

The Choir remains perhaps my favorite band. So when they asked in 2017 for my money to fund the creation of Bloodshot, I ponied up with no questions asked. I had no idea what we were going to get. It turns out that Bloodshot is the saddest, most difficult and most earthbound album the band has made. It focuses on drummer Steve Hindalong’s painful divorce, and the band sets aside most of their ethereal, ambient soundscapes in favor of tangible, strummy songs that pick at the pain, opening it up wide. Songs like “Bloodshot Eyes,” “Only Reasons” and “House of Blues” are dark things, and the band measures them against rockers like “Summer Rain” and “Magic,” culminating with one of their best anthems of hope and forgiveness in “The Time Has Come.” This album is doubly bittersweet as it is the final recording project for bassist Tim Chandler, who died earlier this year. I will miss him terribly, but I’m glad we got one last Choir album with him on it, and that it’s such a powerful and important one.

#8. Frank Turner, Be More Kind.

I thought a lot about this record over the past several months. There’s no doubting it comes from a place of white man’s privilege, Turner surveying the current political landscape and arguing that things would be better if we could just be nicer to each other. He isn’t intending to give short shrift to the injustices playing out in spheres he doesn’t inhabit, but I still worry that Be More Kind is a bit blinkered. But it’s also a great album of wonderful, well-intentioned songs, ones that I found myself singing over and over as this crazy year had its way with everyone I know. Turner isn’t wrong when he suggests we should interrogate our own assumptions, admit we might be wrong and work on reconciliation, and he gets angry when he needs to, as on “1933” and “Make America Great Again.” Nestled near the end of this record is “The Lifeboat,” which may be the best song he’s ever written – it’s about leaving the old world in flames behind you and building a new one based on kindness and justice, which is exactly the way I feel coming out of 2018.

#7. Wye Oak, The Louder I Call The Faster It Runs.

Jenn Wasner has been moving toward something this compelling for a long time. The Louder I Call takes the synth-heavy sound Wye Oak had been toying with and marries it to a fantastic set of songs, emerging fully formed as an entirely new thing. The star of this record is Wasner’s voice, both as a singer and a songwriter, and it’s remarkable how completely she has transformed here from her scrappy indie origins. She’s never written a song as complex and powerful as “It Was Not Natural,” a highlight not only of this record but of the year. It surprises me that those singing her praises years ago have all but ignored this album. This is the record on which Wasner has come into her own, and it’s a glorious sound.

#6. Derri Daugherty, The Color of Dreams.

Yes, Derri is here twice, and yes, his solo record hit me harder than his work with the Choir this year. The very idea of a solo project from Daugherty, the golden voice atop the Choir’s blissful noise, has been a running in-joke among fans for close to 20 years. The Color of Dreams was well worth the wait. Daugherty’s voice works very well with the stripped-down country-inflected folk music he gives us here (and has given us with the Lost Dogs and Kerosene Halo), and given that framework, Color is a surprisingly diverse album – we have the straight-ahead rock of “Unhypnotized” and “We’ve Got the Moon,” the crawling darkness of “I Want You to Be” and the six ambient tracks at the end. But most of all we have the songs, and they’re wonderful things, from the tricky acoustic skip of “Saying Goodbye” to the aforementioned swipe at fundamentalist religion that is “Unhypnotized.” The highlight for me is “Your Chair,” Daugherty’s memorial for his father, which is easily in the running for best song of the year. It took a while to arrive, but The Color of Dreams is superb.

#5. Low, Double Negative.

Whatever I write here about Double Negative, it will not match the unsettling, skin-crawling experience of hearing it. Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker have thrown out their own rulebook on their 12th full-length, dispatching not only with their classic slowcore sound but with even their recent sonic advances. Double Negative is a nightmare, deliberately crafted and mixed to put you off balance. Static and noise hold sway, and underneath are some sweet and gentle songs trying to poke through, met with flamethrowers when they poke their heads up. The whole thing is designed to cause dread, and to capture the feeling of living in a world where disaster can happen at any time. As a reaction to the year, it succeeds wildly. For better and for worse, it may well be the most 2018 album to come out in 2018.

#4. Elvis Costello and the Imposters, Look Now.

Do I even need to say at this point that Elvis Costello is one of the finest songwriters alive? In recent years he’s dabbled in country-folk with the great National Ransom and collaborated with the Roots on the noisy Wise Up Ghost, but Look Now finds him returning to a classic pop sound. There are shades of his more ornate work with the Attractions and his tunes with Burt Bacharach here, but beyond the trappings there are a dozen perfect little Costello songs, arranged and performed with gusto. And that’s all Costello has ever needed to impress. He co-writes here with Bacharach and Carole King, and is in their rarified air, turning out wonders like opener “Under Lime” and “Mr. and Mrs. Hush,” tales of hard luck and harder people set to gorgeous orchestration and some fine playing from the Imposters. If an album is only as strong as its songs, this one’s unbreakable.

#3. Jukebox the Ghost, Off to the Races.

I think I played this album more times than any other this year. I’ve been somewhat dismayed as Jukebox the Ghost followed their pure pop muse away from the more complex and Queen-like work of their earlier records, but Off to the Races is the album on which they sold me on their new sound. It helps that this is the most Queen-influenced effort they’ve made, but they have married those excesses with some of their catchiest and most direct piano-pop. The result is joyful almost beyond description, from the danceable delight of “Fred Astaire” to the romantic “Simple as 1 2 3” to the rip-roaring “Boring,” an ode to settling down. Off to the Races is short – 10 songs in 34 minutes – but it’s as pristine and enjoyable a pop record as anyone could hope for.

#2. Darlingside, Extralife.

This one edged out Jukebox, but only just. It’s the prettiest thing I heard this year, building on the gorgeous folk of Birds Say and emerging with something that approaches transcendent. The four members of Darlingside all sing in perfect, soul-lifting harmony, and the moment in each song when the vocals intertwine and ascend is magical. It’s the same trick, but they pull it off a dozen times here, and it never gets old. The songs are lovely, from the absurdly beautiful “Hold Your Head Up High” to the rhythmically tricky “Indian Orchard Road,” and all together this album fills me with a peaceful feeling that I can’t explain. It’s alchemical in some way, but it was much needed during a year of chaos and pain.

So there you have nine very good albums. But none of them were truly great. I only heard one that fit that description, and from the moment I heard it I knew it would sit atop this list. There could be no other choice, really.

#1. Janelle Monae, Dirty Computer.

When this album came out in May, I wrote a lengthy review of it that summarizes my feelings. I won’t rehash that here, so if you’re inclined toward the deeper dive, please read it. In addition to all that, I want to talk about what makes Monae’s astonishing third album not only the best but the most important record of 2018. I know a lot of people who have been searching for an artistic response to the wave of hatred that seems to be taking over the world, searching for music that plants a flag of protest against what seems to be a rising tide of bigotry. And for me, Dirty Computer was that record.

Dirty Computer is a stomping, sex-positive sci-fi narrative about a government that erases experiences it does not approve of from the memories of its citizens. But more than that, it chronicles the awakening of Monae herself, who leaves her previous role as an android behind to be fully human here. This is an album about a black queer woman being fully herself – it is fearlessly liberated, unafraid to express that identity in bold terms. Songs like “Django Jane” and “Pynk” and the wonderful “I Like That” find her facing the fear of embracing who she is and coming out the other side in triumph. Monae is well aware that just being herself is a political statement, a stand against those in our government and in our churches who would oppress her just for being alive.

Even if Dirty Computer were just that, just a full-blooded “here I am” shouted from the mountaintops, it would be an extraordinary thing. But it’s so much more. It’s a powerful look at America from a point of view that is not often heard from or celebrated. With “Screwed,” which may be my favorite song of the year (and the most transgressive thing I have ever loved), Monae posits that sex must be powerful, since so many want to control it. With “Americans,” she takes direct aim at the bigotry she obliquely references throughout this album, and with the help of Pastor Sean McMillan, sets out a list of goals that will truly make America great: “Until women can get equal pay for equal work, this is not my America. Until same-gender-loving people can be who they are, this is not my America….”

The entire thing is executed with such vision and precision that it feels like a single thought, and taken as a whole, Dirty Computer is the most politically minded protest album I heard this year, a bulwark against a rising tide. It’s also musically astonishing, from the Princely grooves of “Make Me Feel” to the prog-rock overtones of “So Afraid” to the ultimate dance floor liberation of “Screwed.” Janelle Monae has always been brilliant, but this is the first album on which she has harnessed that brilliance in service of herself, with no disguises, knowing full well what an act of rebellion that in itself is during these times. In doing so, she made not only the best album of 2018, but the year’s only truly great statement.

Here’s hoping in 20 years we look back on an album like Dirty Computer and shake our heads in disbelief that it was ever necessary. For this year, it’s vital. And it’s without question my number one.

And that will do it. Next week is Fifty Second Week, and another year is done. Thanks to all of you who came with me on another year of this silly music column. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

This year was not like other years.

I’ll go into this in a bit more detail next week, but my top 10 list is done, and the wide gulf between my number one pick and all the others albums I heard this year is immense. Looked at from a certain perspective, there shouldn’t be any honorable mentions, since everything that isn’t my number one pick is kind of interchangeable. They’re all good albums, but they’re nowhere near as good as the one I’m calling the year’s best.

But then I wouldn’t have anything to write about this week. The honorable mentions are a tradition here at tm3am, records that were very good but just not good enough to make the list. What differentiates this year’s selection from those of the previous years is that virtually all of these albums could have been among the top 10. They’re all about the same level of very good, and anyone arguing that any of the below entries should be one of the ten best of 2018 would get no sideways glances from me.

Heck, there are probably several albums I should have heard that could easily have been in this list of honorables as well. I did take time to hear the one cropping up on everyone else’s lists, Mitski’s Be the Cowboy, and I don’t think I agree that it should be anywhere near the top ten, but I’m happy to accept it in anyone else’s ranking. (I think a lot of people liked the Kacey Musgraves album more than I did too, but I did like it.) The only album I will fight to the death for is the one sitting atop my list.

This column is also my chance to go over the rules for my top 10 list, so as not to waste time with it next week. So here they are: Only full-length albums of original material that came out in 2018 are eligible for this year’s list. That seems really straightforward, but it actually causes a few conundrums for me during the year. For instance, this year there were a few EPs that could have been in the list, most particularly the debut from Boygenius and the second installment of the Oh Hellos’ mini-album series, Euros. But only full-length records are eligible.

Two albums I wish I could include are ineligible because they are not new, strictly speaking. Meshell Ndegeocello’s beautiful Ventriloquism is a covers album like few others, finding the depth and soul in the ‘80s and ‘90s songs she covers. This is the album that made me love Al B. Sure’s “Nite and Day,” and reminded me how much I have always liked Force MDs’ “Tender Love.” And Paul Simon’s In the Blue Light revisits some of his lesser-known material in new ways, including a stunning take on “Can’t Run But” and a perfect new take on “Love,” one of my favorites of his, featuring Bill Frisell on guitar. But there are no new songs, so it can’t make the list.

Live albums are also ineligible, which this year means that I can’t include the incredible The Roxy Performances box set from Frank Zappa. But you should buy this right now, if you have any interest at all in Zappa’s work. Seven CDs capturing every note played by one of his finest bands during a residency at the Roxy in 1973. It’s utterly amazing from first note to last. Surprisingly, though, it isn’t my favorite live album of the year. That honor goes to Midnight Oil, whose Armistice Day finds them in fine form in Sydney on their 2017 reunion tour. Seriously, this performance is fire.

While I am recommending things that cannot feature in my top 10 list, I’d point to R.E.M.’s 8-CD/1-DVD At the BBC set, a comprehensive box detailing their live performances for the BBC over their entire career; Daniel Amos’ stunning remaster and expansion of Horrendous Disc; and the two new Kate Bush Remastered box sets that give us her entire output in sparkling new editions. There are still 13 shopping days before Christmas, so go.

But before you go, here’s a quick look at the honorable mentions from 2018.

The earliest release that has stuck around for me is I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life by Tune-Yards. This is Merrill Garbus’ most accomplished piece of work, quirky yet weighty, and I kept listening to it throughout 2018. Also early on were Being Empty Being Filled, the new one from Listener, a band quite unlike any other, and Good Thing, the excellent sophomore record from Leon Bridges. The Bridges album remains a favorite, its soulful yet modern grooves a perfect fit for his buttery voice.

Florence and the Machine made my favorite of their records with High as Hope. Dawes did the same with Passwords, a reaction to the year and to the ways we talk to one another. Richard Thompson came roaring back with the guitar-heavy 13 Rivers, his best record in many years. Punch Brothers delivered another sterling document of their progressive bluegrass style with All Ashore. And just recently, Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness delivered a third album of remarkable grace and beauty in Upside Down Flowers.

These are all records I like, but now we’re moving into the ones I love. I didn’t review Mount Eerie’s Now Only, just because it was too difficult a prospect to approach. But the album is amazing, continuing Phil Elverum’s mourning in the wake of his wife’s death while bringing in more of the sound we know and love from him. Deafheaven’s Ordinary Corrupt Human Love gave me some of the same feelings – it’s impossibly emotional noise that is heavy enough to crush you, but prefers to gently cocoon you.

While Boygenius got most of the ink, I was more enamored with See You Around, the debut record from I’m With Her. A collaboration between three geniuses – Sara Watkins, Sarah Jarosz and Aoife O’Donovan – the album delivers some of the most gorgeous acoustic folk music you’re likely to hear. The Bad Plus returned with a new piano player, the swell Orrin Evans, and a really strong new record, Never Stop II, to inaugurate their next chapter.

Two of my AudioFeed bands put out great records this year. The Gray Havens put down their guitars and went electronic with She Waits, and it’s a swell, if brief, journey from grief to joy. And Von Strantz finally unveiled Through the Looking Glass, an album they made a few years ago, and it was a revelation. Jess and Kelsey fully immersed themselves in electronic textures and ‘80s synths and wrote some killer songs.

Finally, we have the Number Elevens, the albums that I almost included in the top 10 list this year. Even more so than all of the others I listed, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash if you told me any of these final four were among your absolute favorites of 2018. Two of these featured in earlier drafts of my list, so they shouldn’t be surprises, but two are relatively new, and they knocked me out.

Those two are Kamasi Washington’s vast, unlimited Heaven and Earth and Donnie Vie’s Beautiful Things. A double album of horizon-size depth, with a hidden EP that pushes it over the three-hour mark, Heaven and Earth is a visionary slice of jazz, with gigantic orchestrations and some powerhouse playing by Washington and his ensemble. Beautiful Things is a perfect compact melodic record from the Enuff Z’Nuff mastermind, the fullest and richest album he’s made and the best argument yet for his canonization among pop songwriters.

Which brings us to the ones I have mentioned before, both of which almost made the list. Stoner metal band Sleep made a triumphant return with The Sciences, the most monolithic metal record I heard this year. ( Seriously, it contains a song called “Giza Butler” that earns that title.) And the Boxer Rebellion made what I think is their very best album with the quiet, pensive, haunting Ghost Alive. I didn’t hear a flat-out prettier song this year than “Here I Am,” and the rest of the album is gorgeous as well.

OK, next week, my 10 favorites from 2018. Follow Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

It happened earlier than usual this year.

A couple weeks ago, my long-suffering and delightful girlfriend and I were headed to a party. We were driving down decorated streets and listening to Bing Crosby and out of nowhere, it hit me. Christmas. I can be counted on to get into the spirit at some point before December 25 each year, but this was the earliest those warm and magical feelings snuck up on me.

I just love Christmas. I love the lights, the trees, the spirit of giving, the sense of the unpredictable in the air. I even love going to church on Christmas, a tradition my friend Mike and I have upheld for more than 20 years. But most of all, I love Christmas music. I generally like to confine my enjoyment of it to about 30 days – the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas day. This year I couldn’t wait.

Christmas music just fills me with an insane joy. I even love that Mariah Carey tune all my cool friends seem to hate. It’s fun! I love jolly Christmas songs and pensive Christmas ballads and reverent Christmas hymns. It’s a canon of songs I just cannot get enough of, to the point where I buy loads of new Christmas music every year and revel in it, alongside my old favorites. (I’ve already made my way through all of Sufjan Stevens’ Songs for Christmas this year.)

So this is my annual roundup of Christmas records from this year. I bought seven new holiday platters, and surprisingly, none of them were J.D. McPherson’s Socks, so I might have to rectify that. It was an interestingly diverse bounty this year, and I’ve been enjoying it. Here’s what has been rockin’ around my Christmas tree this season.

We’ll start with the one that has received the fewest plays, for obvious reasons: William Shatner’s Shatner Claus, the Christmas Album. I blame Ben Folds for convincing me all those years ago that Shatner’s recording career wasn’t just a colossal joke. Has Been remains the best use anyone has made of Shatner’s speak-sing-intone thing, and the joke wears fairly thin over 14 tracks here.

The guest list is astonishing, though, from Henry Rollins (crashing his way through “Jingle Bells”) to Todd Rundgren to Rick Wakeman to Iggy Pop to the one and only Judy Collins. They’re all in on the joke, and listening to them tap dance around Shatner is fascinating. I don’t know why Shatner Claus exists, but on some level – some absurd, insane level – I’m glad it does.

Each year at least one or two artists decide to try their hand at original Christmas tunes. Last year it was Sia with her nutty Everyday is Christmas. This year we have a couple mostly original albums, and they’re great. The Mavericks are a country band unlike any other country band, combining Western swing and Mariachi flavors into their mix, to be topped off by the Roy Orbison-esque vocals of Raul Malo. Their Hey! Merry Christmas! is swell, basically a regular Mavericks album with holiday-themed lyrics and sweet covers of “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” and “Happy Holiday.”

The Old 97’s save their covers of traditional songs until the end of Love the Holidays, filling the bulk of the running time with their ramshackle country-rock. I like all of their original tunes, though, especially the rollicking “Gotta Love Being a Kid (Merry Christmas).” The record really comes to life for me when they hit their joyous covers of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” and “Up on the Housetop,” though. The cover photo is worth the cost of admission too.

For the second year in a row, Ronnie Martin has made an appearance, returning from his self-imposed exile from Joy Electric. He calls himself Said Fantasy now, and Chorus Noel is his second EP of Christmas songs. Martin still uses nothing but vintage synthesizers, and he keeps things instrumental except for the title track, the first new song he’s written since Said Fantasy’s debut album last year. It’s so great to hear Ronnie singing one of his own songs again, and the rest of the EP is fun as well. It’s only 13 minutes long, but I enjoyed all 13 of those minutes.

Martin also ably demonstrates that the key to a lovely and timeless Christmas record is to mix up your originals with your takes on the established canon. The Monkees prove him right with their great new album Christmas Party, continuing their unlikely modern renaissance. The band sticks to the same formula that made 2016’s Good Times such a success: they enlisted Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne to produce, and wrangled new Christmas songs from the likes of Andy Partridge, Rivers Cuomo, and Peter Buck with Scott McCaughey.

The result is marvelous. You can always tell an Andy Partridge song, and “Unwrap You at Christmas” is no exception. It’s a power pop master class, of course, but it’s generous enough to sit alongside Cuomo’s “What Would Santa Do” and Schlesinger’s “House of Broken Gingerbread” nicely. Along the way the Monkees give us their takes on “The Christmas Song,” “Silver Bells,” McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime” and, most fascinatingly, Big Star’s “Jesus Christ.” It’s compact and fun and just great.

One of my very favorite bands, Austin’s Quiet Company, took a darker tack on their deliciously titled new EP Baby It’s Cold War Outside. Thankfully, it’s no less delightful, especially the song that has become a new standard around my house, “Merry Christmas, the President is Terrible.” (It’s a lot more serious-minded than its title would suggest.) Taylor Muse and (ahem) company balance off their original takes with covers of “What Christmas Means to Me” and “Little Drummer Boy” and end things with a fantastic mash-up of “Carol of the Bells” and “Setting the Trap” from Home Alone. Check that out here.

QuietCo was very nearly my favorite this year, but if I have to pick one, I’m going in a much more traditional direction. I just can’t stop listening to John Legend’s A Legendary Christmas. Legend has one of those voices that just does it for me. Chills up the spine, shivers and hair standing on end. He’s just that good. A Legendary Christmas homages Bing Crosby on its cover and it sets Legend’s voice loose over rich orchestration.

So much of this is so good, but I’m particularly fond of Legend’s duet with Esperanza Spalding on “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” and his gorgeous take on “The Christmas Song.” This is really a perfect Christmas record, one that makes me think of snowfalls and presents when I was a child, one that evokes the nostalgic and beautiful magic of this season. I’m probably going to play it again once I’m done writing this, in fact.

I hope I’ve given you enough ideas to stock your own Christmas larder with tunes. While I will be back to writing about non-Christmas music next week (with the honorable mentions for my top 10 list), you can bet that I’ll be listening to some combination of the above while writing it. Thanks for reading. May your days be merry and bright.

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See you in line Tuesday morning.