Top 10 albums of 2015

Madeon, Adventure
My get-out-of-mood-free album. No matter how grumpy or restless I might feel, this collection of bouncy electronic music cheers me up. Favorite songs include "Ok" and "Icarus."

GHOST COP, GHOST COP
This EP came out less than a month ago, but I'm already super attached to it. It's the synthy, drum-driven debut from Brooklyn-based Lucy Swope and Sean Dack — an '80s-infused version of what the new CHVRCHES album could have been.

Marian Hill, Sway
How can Marian Hill sound so lush and so spare at the same time? My theory: they've mastered syncopation. Sway makes diacritical marks out of pitched instruments, using brass sections and half-second choir bursts to accentuate vocalist Samantha Gongol's melodies.

Purity Ring, another eternity
A constellation of pounding arias. This album might be perfect.

Doomtree, All Hands
While writing this list, I had a fight with myself over which Doomtree song would belong in my top ten. "The Bends" is most poetic, and I loved watching Dessa and P.O.S sing it a capella at a conference last April (you read that right). But then there's "Cabin Killer" (which crushes), "Mini Brute" (propulsive and melodic), and "Marathon" (with that incredible beat breakdown during/after Sims's verse). Obviously, I had to give up on picking songs and spotlight the whole album.

Kendrick Lamar, To Pimp A Butterfly
You knew this was coming. I actually didn't hear this album until August or September, but its layers (of sound and content) have kept me listening to it since then.

Melanie Martinez, Cry Baby
"So what if I'm crazy," asks Martinez on "Mad Hatter" (and pretty much every other song on this album). Well? The 20-year-old Voice alum can make you dance, yes. But more importantly, her music swells gender assumptions until they pop. Here, teddy bears and swear words join forces; "Tag, You're It" goes from children's game to sexual assault in a sickening twist. Later, family circuses go corrosive, and arrogant boys get schooled. I love this album's demented-carousel honesty.

Christine and the Queens, Christine and the Queens
Call me a Francophile; this self-titled U.S. release est formidable. French singer Hélo ïse Letissier is Christine and the Queens, a synthpop artist whose viscous voice and MJ-inspired moves have repeatedly dazzled me this year. Letissier is extraordinarily genial in person, but her songs deal with difficult feelings, especially insecurity and regret. She puts on grand façades (the "character" Christine, for starters), but I think the humanity in her work makes it utterly approachable.

Symbolic tenth album
I haven't heard enough of the new Grimes, Thundercat, or Ellie Goulding releases to call them 2015 favorites. That said, I love all those artists, and I'm sure I'll enjoy their albums. This spot is for the aforementioned records and every December release; you're top ten material in my heart.

Top 10 Songs of 2015

Janelle Monáe, "Hell You Talmbout"
Shivers. Tears. Community. This song made me feel everything. It's a piercing protest anthem by my favorite living artist and her Wondaland Records crew.

Electric Wire Hustle, "Brother Sun (feat. Kimbra) [Rodi Kirk & Aron Ottignon Version]"
Rodi Kirk and Aron Ottignon step everything up in this rendition of "Brother Sun" — especially the tempo. Here, jazz piano lays a snappy foundation for Kimbra's moans and verses; stuttery cymbals add lightness. Extremely danceable.

Tame Impala, "Let It Happen"
I don't understand how this song can have so many moving parts and still be cohesive and thrilling. Tame Impala totally makes it work.

Chemical Brothers, "Go (feat. Q-Tip)"
The build on this one is incredible.

Marina and The Diamonds, "Immortal"
Marina Diamandis took things slower on FROOT than she has on albums past. This is the biggest payoff.

Disclosure, "Magnets (feat. Lorde)"
I lose it every time this song lilts-then-jolts into its chorus.

Florence + the Machine, "Long & Lost"
Delicate as tissue paper. Deep as the Thames. Warm as the first drink hitting your system.

Beck, "Dreams"
So. Catchy. And consistently stuck in my head.

Major Lazer, "Lean On (feat. MØ and DJ Snake)"
My favorite Top 40 song of the year. I listed MØ's No Mythologies to Follow as one of my top ten albums of 2014, so it was cool to see her and the rest of the "Lean On" crew slay the charts.

Sam Dew, "Air"
Falsetto and groove and this chorus = all you need to win me over.

Top three music moments of 2015

Brandi Carlile at the Cabooze Outdoor Plaza

I consider myself pretty good at reading people. Maybe it comes from being quiet and listening well; maybe it's a writer's skill (we are observers by trade). Whatever the reason, it's easy for me to see past façades.

Last August, then, it meant the world when Brandi Carlile (singer-songwriter of "The Story" fame) played the most genuine concert I can remember. Rarely do artists charm me so thoroughly; all concert long, her smile felt contagious. Every exuberant "yeah, man!" came from her heart. She talked with the audience as if we'd known each other forever, even inviting an 11-year-old fan to sing onstage.

That heartfelt concert brought me undiluted happiness. I wore a Brandi T-shirt to work a few days later, and I ran into a woman with merch from Iron & Wine (who opened for Carlile). We chatted about the artists, discovering that we'd both attended their show, and the woman gave me a double high-five.

It's not every concert that stays vivid after I turn in my review. I still remember Carlile's encouraging spirit; she knew winter would hit Minnesota, but she gave us advice for when our state would freeze. "Remember a beautiful day in August when we sang [...] together," she told the thousands gathered to see her play. Now, the sun, breeze, and three-part harmonies are still fresh in my brain. That night in August, Carlile transcended entertainment and reached a special place in my heart.

Danami and The Blue at the Platform

Last month, before it ever snowed in the metro, I drove two and a half hours west to a powder-dusted Morris, Minn. I'd never visited the 5,000-resident university town before, but two things drew me: friends and music. After getting into Morris, I parked on Atlantic Avenue, jaywalked across the empty street, and opened the door to a retail-space-turned-arts-venue: The Platform.

A small crowd had just started filtering in by the time I paid my five-dollar entry fee. I jogged down the basement stairs, chatted with other fans, and grinned the whole way through the first set: a pack of Prince cover songs performed by tribute band Purple Drain. At that point, only 20 of us stood under the room's low ceiling, but we cheered enough for a hundred.

I didn't know much about headliners Danami and The Blue before they took the stage, other than the fact that they'd made Andrea Swensson's list of 10 new Twin Cities bands to watch (and subsequently performed at Minnesota Next). But when they started up material from Danami's 2015 Before The Wait EP, I knew I was in the right place. Every song told a story, every solo had spirit, and both covers (James Brown's "Get Up [I Feel Like Being A] Sex Machine" and Kanye West's "Touch The Sky") made me jump for joy. Literally.

Danami's material certainly stands on its own, but the crowd turned the energy exponential. Collectively, we lost it; I'm not sure how or why, but we made a unanimous decision to jump, sing, and dance like I've never seen before. Sweat stains spread on several shirts; perfect strangers bonded; the band never held back. I glimpsed what it's like when music takes over.

Falling back in love with life in Minnesota

I spent fall 2014 studying abroad; returning home in late January spent me in a spiral. I missed my friends, hated most of my classes, and mourned my independence. When I wasn't bluffing through tedious papers or working my three jobs, I spent entire days in bed.

I didn't know how to cope with being depressed, but I knew I liked music. So I became more involved with the local scene, going to more shows and listening to more radio. As time went on, I wrote more articles and met other music nerds.

By the time my last semester of college ended, I felt comfortable calling myself a writer — not just a girl who writes. I had one of the best summers of my life, reporting on July's inaugural Eaux Claires Music & Arts Festival (with photographer Emmet Kowler) and seeing several shows in town. I divorced myself from society's expectations for post-grad me, and I do what makes me happy.

Clearly, I have music to thank for that. The Current, specifically, encouraged me to work toward impossible goals; local musicians resupplied me with hometown pride. I grew to treasure Minnesota as my home, and I learned that music is my best self-care.

Cecilia Johnson, a freelance writer from the Minneapolis-St. Paul metro, is a recent graduate from Hamline University. Her favorite things include Jerome Sala, colloquiums, and Disclosure.