In 2010, I graduated from sixth grade. Today, as 2019 comes to a close, I gear up for my final semester at Harvard University. This list below features the 35 albums that narrated my journey through this decade, from Hempstead Elementary to Harvard. These are the albums to which I danced, wept, belted and loved over the past decade. These albums delivered me from 12 to 21 years old, feeding and cultivating me along the way.

This is in no way meant to be a definitive, elitist list of the “best” music of the 2010s. I have no right to declare that. So many talented artists released incredible projects over the past ten years, some of which I probably have never heard and some of which I did not listen to enough. For that reason, there is an honorable mention list of projects whose impact is undeniable but were not as salient for me as the thirty-five below. I also have a bias towards pop and R&B in general — so don’t be shocked if your favorite album isn’t represented here. Please comment and I will add it to my list of music to listen to in 2020!

This is a list of the projects that touched me most. The first requirement was that I knew every song on these albums. I have a visceral reaction to the track list of the albums below. A glance at it brings me back to a specific moment, a memory, an interaction, a relationship. I delve into those moments below for each album. By sharing it, I hope y’all can resonate with my taste and perhaps learn about some new music as well. Again, I welcome feedback and listening suggestions!

Lastly, if you’re reading, I challenge you to reshare this article on social media with your favorite songs of the 2010s. Tag me on Twitter and I’ll repost you! Let’s share the music that touched us this decade, and pray that the 2020s are as sonically rewarding as the 2010s were. Here we go!

WRITER’S ADDENDUM (2024): Feelings change! This is a snapshot of my taste and musical preferences 5 years ago. But if I were writing it now, some of the below “honorable mentions” would probably have a better shot—Summer Walker’s Over It and Ari Lennox’s Shea Butter Baby would be LOCKS—it was just the same year they came out so I hadn’t felt that long term impact yet. Ariana Grande—sorry about the Sweetener snub. Megan Thee Stallion’s Tina Snow would be here too, Nao’s For All We Know, Nicki Minaj’s The Pinkprint as well. Teenage Dream by Katy Perry would CERTAINLY be here—I paid her dust. What would’ve been replaced for these? Don’t have time for that!

Honorable mentions (alphabetized by title):

African Giant (2019) — Burna Boy; Because the Internet (2013) — Childish Gambino; Cuz I Love You (2019) — Lizzo; Fever (2019) — Megan Thee Stallion; For All We Know (2016) — Nao ; H.E.R (2017) — H.E.R; Kaleidoscope Dream (2012) — Miguel; Magna Carta… Holy Grail (2013) — Jay-Z; My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010) — Kanye West; My Everything (2014) — Ariana Grande; Over It (2019) — Summer Walker; Process (2017) — Sampha; Paramore (2013) — Paramore; Shawn Mendes (2018) — Shawn Mendes; Shea Butter Baby (2019) — Ari Lennox; Teenage Dream (2012) — Katy Perry; The Electric Lady (2013) — Janelle Monáe; The Pinkprint (2014) — Nicki Minaj; The 20/20 Experience — 2 of 2 (2013) — Justin Timberlake; To Pimp A Butterfly (2015) — Kendrick Lamar; Unapologetic (2012) — Rihanna; Watch The Throne (2011) — Jay-Z and Kanye West; When I Get Home (2019) — Solange; When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? (2019) — Billie Eillish; 21 (2011)- Adele; 24K Magic (2016) — Bruno Mars; 88 (2019) — Klark.

35. Bangerz (2013) — Miley Cyrus

While Miley’s early 2010s culturally appropriative persona has aged rather poorly, I’m reluctant to admit that her fourth studio album truly hasn’t. On Bangerz, Cyrus demonstrated how a desperate attempt to escape a past persona can lead to a bizarrely eclectic yet super successful album. She bounces from tasteless hip-hop to raunchy country throughout the album, never letting us forget her goal of reimagining herself. High school me definitely spent my fair share of hours watching Wrecking Ball parodies, but the frivolity of her publicity stunts cannot overshadow the sheer amount of talent displayed on this album.

Choice Track: #GETITRIGHT (prod. Pharrell Williams)

34. Unorthodox Jukebox (2012) — Bruno Mars

Bruno Mars is a vocal powerhouse. He sports one of the most impressive vocal ranges in music, and Unorthodox Jukebox is a perfect display of his artistry. He spans over several genres throughout the album (pure pop, funk, disco, reggae) while still maintaining a certain groovy cohesion. Bruno and the Smeezingtons are a match made in heaven, and Unorthodox Jukebox could not be left off my list.

Choice Track: Treasure

33. After Laughter (2017) — Paramore

“They say that dreaming is free/But I wouldn’t care what it cost me.” Ten years after their breakout effort Riot!, Paramore delivered another masterpiece with After Laughter. Hayley Williams defines pop punk — she breaks our hearts with “26” and validates our feelings during “Hard Times.” The album experiments with funky production and bizarre diction more than any of their old efforts, and the risks they take reap huge rewards. This past year, we learned that we’ll never get another album from Paramore after After Laughter. As devastating as this news is, I am happy to have this on replay as our last memory of a brilliant band that paved the way for pop-punk in the 2000s and 2010s.

Choice Track: 26

32. Camp (2011) — Childish Gambino

If you take a gander at Childish Gambino’s quiet 2011 debut, it would be hard to believe that he would end the decade with five Grammys and one of the biggest cultural moments of the last 10 years (see “This is America.”) However, despite the commercial impact of Gambino’s later work, Camp is an unforgettable tribute to the rapper we fell in love with. It takes some parsing through very cringey festishizations of Asian women to get there (and it makes plenty of sense if you skipped it altogether as a result), but this album got me through arguably the most uneasy time in a kid’s life — middle school. It is named what it is for a reason — cheesy and campy, yet boundlessly honest and relatable for the angsty middle schooler who truly just wanted to “Keep Up.”

Choice Track: Kids (Keep Up)

31. Trilogy (2012) — The Weeknd

I associate Trilogy with Camp because they were the center of my angsty middle-school soundtrack, and like Camp, Trilogy is also a pre-cursor to an incredibly mainstream career trajectory that I would not have predicted. Trilogy is a giant three-disc compilation album and to me represents the sound that I hoped The Weeknd would embrace during his mid 2010s break out. The album is impressive purely because its themes — sex, drugs, fame, money and depression — were things 13-year old me could not begin to conceptualize, yet it was my soundtrack on my way to school everyday. The Weeknd blends eerie, dreamy vocals with overembellished production and very disturbing lyrics to communicate how truly fucked up he and the world around him are.

Choice Track: What You Need

30. Nothing Was The Same (2013) — Drake

Drake is undeniably the biggest rapper to have debuted in the last 10 years. He has taken over the world, and although many have opinions regarding how deserving he is of this (some of which I share), Nothing Was The Same is one of those projects that upon revisiting remind you that there is a reason why Drake is the superstar he is. Masterfully produced tracks like “From Time” and “Too Much” merge with timeless hits like “Hold On, We’re Going Home” to remind us that Drake deserves (some of) the space he takes up today.

Choice Track: From Time (feat. Jhené Aiko)

29. Invasion of Privacy (2018) — Cardi B

She may be the most controversial rapper to enter the scene this decade, yet her 2018 effort is undeniably masterful. It’s no secret that Cardi B isn’t the lyricist that rappers like Nicki or Missy are, but you cannot deny that she gave us a ridiculous amount of bops on her debut album Invasion of Privacy. She has the unique ability to make me feel like I have a husband to confront or someone to fight (see “Be Careful”). What’s most important about Invasion of Privacy is that Cardi took the narrative back in her hands. So much airspace in music is filled with men speaking about what they “do” to women, and Cardi B flipped the script and gave us her perspective — and how refreshing it is indeed.

Choice Track: Ring (feat. Kehlani)

28. Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded (2012) — Nicki Minaj

There’s a lot of jargon about Nicki and her “conduct” and her “attitude,” but frankly I couldn’t care less about any of it. Nicki’s impact is undeniable. Her contributions to music single-handedly paved the way for pop-rap and pop-rap theatrics. What Roman Reloaded showed us was that Nicki has depth. She can top the pop charts with “Starships,” and tell us all to “suck a big dick” on “I Am Your Leader.” Most importantly, she can rap and entertain time and time again. She always delivers, and that can never be taken away from her.

Choice Track: Beez in the Trap (feat. 2 Chainz)

27. Doo-Woops and Hooligans (2010) — Bruno Mars

In my humble opinion, despite all of the greatness Bruno Mars brought us this decade, he never bested his debut effort. Song after song is a smash. He brings on brilliant features like Damian Marley and CeeLo Green to tell a story of doing your own damn thing, without anyone telling you otherwise. I remember my sister and I driving in the car in 2010, screaming out the lyrics to “The Lazy Song” and “Marry You.” Bruno channeled the joy of youth and reminded us of the power we all have to truly give no fucks.

Choice Track: Liquor Store Blues (featuring Damian Marley)

26. Acid Rap (2013) — Chance the Rapper

“Everybody’s somebody’s everything/Nobody’s nothing.” I have to admit that I inadvertently slept on Chance the Rapper for too long. However, his unforgettable, cartoon-like crooning rap voice, along with his impeccable songwriting, is impossible not to love, and Acid Rap was the spark that incited my version of that love. “Cocoa Butter Kisses” is timeless, a nostalgic and charming tune that bolsters the vibe at any function. “Everybody” is the uplifting song you need to remind you that you are indeed loved. Juice is the feel-good track you need to get you from point A to point B, whether it’s a brisk walk, a short car ride, or a long flight. Acid Rap is brilliant because it remains fresh sounding while leaning so heavily and gracefully on the legacy of funk, soul, and old-school hip-hop to construct its unique sound. It feels like the perfect acid trip — expansive, creative, colorful, cohesive and everlasting. The dynamism of Acid Rap is why seven years later, it’s still an album I play every day.

Choice Track: Cocoa Butter Kisses (feat. Vic Mensa and Twista)

25. K.T.S.E (2018) — Teyana Taylor

My boss at my booking agency internship this past summer played K.T.S.E on repeat several times a day everyday and I can’t thank him more for it. Teyana Taylor’s debut effort proves that she did not come to play. Although K.T.S.E was not featured on most major outlets’ decade end lists, to me, it exists at the epicenter of an artistic era defined by black women. Teyana Taylor is unabashed about her sexuality (see “3Way”), her iconic queer anthems (see “WTP”), and her brilliant samples (see “Never Would Have Made It.”) The result is an album which I predict will continuously be revisited for years to come.

Choice Track: Hurry (feat. Kanye West)

24. G I R L (2014) — Pharrell

“Life to me is easy/People make it complicated/When love is the tool/There’s no reason we can’t make it.” Usually having a smash hit first single off of an album helps your the record shine, but in Pharrell’s case,

G I R L may have actually been overshadowed by the monstrous 2014 single “Happy.” A deeper dive into the album reveals that Pharrell did not take the offer from Columbia Records to make an album lightly. The blaring horns of “Brand New” and funky guitars of “Come Get It Bae” remind us that this album should be brilliant — it sits at the nexus of Pharrell’s knack for production, a star studded features list (Alicia Keys, Miley Cyrus and Justin Timberlake to name a few) and his signature groovy, falsetto-based vocal performance. Thank god that Columbia was impressed enough by Pharrell’s work on Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories to fund his second studio album. “Brand New” has been my alarm ever since.

Choice Track: Brand New (feat. Justin Timberlake)

23. In The Lonely Hour (2014) — Sam Smith

Many closeted boys in high school used Sam Smith to cope, and I was definitely one of them. The album’s placement on this list is bittersweet — almost every song on this album takes me back to a place of fragile insecurity and solitude, wondering if I would ever feel (loved) enough to write a song about someone. However, In The Lonely Hour also reminds me of how powerful music can be — how music can keep one alive. Sam Smith’s mezzo-like range and prophetic, heartbreaking pengame were enough to take me out of my rut at 16, and I thank them endlessly for it.

Choice Track (TIE): Nirvana / Drowning Shadows

22. The Life of Pablo (2016) — Kanye West

“I just want to feel liberated, I, I, I/If I ever instigated I’m sorry/Tell me who in here can relate.” Close your eyes. Its early 2016. Barack Obama is still president. Kanye West’s social media behavior is unnerving at best, but he hasn’t begun sporting the infamous red hat yet. Now remember how you felt when The Life of Pablo dropped, and yet another Kanye masterpiece was in your library. What we witness on The Life of Pablo is some of the last of Kanye’s genius. He channeled gospel (properly this time) with the iconic “Ultralight Beam” and made waves with his controversial Taylor Swift drag on “Famous." He gave us psychedelic journeys on “30 Hours” and “Highlights,” and provided the most rappable verse of 2016 on “Father Stretch My Hands Out Pt. 1.” On The Life of Pablo, Kanye gifts us with what pressure, fame, and unnurtured genius can breed for the mind, how it can both mangle and irrigate at the same time.

Choice Track: Ultralight Beam

21. Journals (2013) — Justin Bieber

I’m not going to say I’m a Belieber because, frankly, I’m not. I’m the first person to remind y’all about how he said the n-word with the hard R several times. However, I’m also the first person to remind y’all that his sneaky, digital-only 2013 compilation album Journals was the best piece of work he produced during his entire career. My first break coming home from boarding school, I was hanging out with my friends and they mockingly asked me if I was bumping that new JB album with my new “rich, white boarding school friends.” I was honest and said yes, expecting to get roasted. Instead, it was just a signal that we were all on the same page. They put on “All That Matters” in that moment and we released a heavy sigh of relief as that sexy guitar line snuck into the car speakers and the booming bass line filled the car. Bieber showed on this album that years of studying black culture actually can lead to impressive results. In all his problematic glory, Bieber made an R&B masterpiece that will never leave my library.

Choice Track: Confident (feat. Chance The Rapper)

20. 2014 Forest Hills Drive (2014) — J. Cole

“I keep my head high/I got my wings to carry me/I don’t know freedom/I want my dreams to rescue me.” The night the album dropped, my R.A-equivalent “proctor” appeared at my door at midnight on the dot with his iPhone and Bluetooth speaker ready. We sat in complete darkness and listened to the album in full in silence. We were speechless after one listen. 2014 Forest Hills Drive solidified J. Cole’s positionality as an artist. The album stands out because of Cole’s ability to tell stories, both in each individual song (see “Wet Dreamz”) and as across the album as a whole. He speaks candidly about what it means to be a young black person, at the crossroads of fame and a family at home. On “Apparently,” he raps to his mother, apologizing for the times when he chose hedonism over providing for her. He never runs out of stamina throughout the album, closing with the 14m:35s “Note to Self.” He takes the “to self” part seriously, slowly unraveling until he declares “don’t shit matter.” For me, its J. Cole’s honesty that makes this album unforgettable.

Choice Track: Apparently

19. ANTI (2016) — Rihanna

“You know I got the sauce/You know I’m saucy/And it’s always wet/A bitch never ever had to use lip gloss on it.” It’s no secret that up until 2016, Rihanna hadn’t quite found her sound. The truth is, like many internationally renowned pop stars, she wasn’t allowed to. Rihanna was an automated hit-making a machine, pushing out a record a year from 2005 to 2012. Her team’s execution was arguably brilliant — each release consisted of a year long era that would end with a late summer/early fall smash in August (see “Cheers,” “What Now,” “Break It Off,” “Don’t Stop The Music,” “Cockiness”) and before that single left the top 40 charts, the first single of her next album was already being pushed to mainstream radio everywhere. As a result, she monopolized airwaves for seven straight years. Her rapid ascension to pop stardom was especially impressive considering how Jay-Z, the man who signed her, felt that her debut single “Pon De Replay” was “too big for her.” Clearly, he was wrong.

You could feel how rushed Rihanna’s first eight studio albums were — loaded with filler album tracks save the three to five guaranteed smashes, Rihanna rode the genre wave and did what she had to do to top the charts. On ANTI, Rihanna decided to make songs that reflect her interior life instead. She masters the art of the late night drunk voicemail on “Higher,” and leans into her vocal rasp on “Love On The Brain.” She is unabashed about her role as a sex symbol with “Sex with Me,” and stays true to her Caribbean roots on Billboard’s 4th most popular single of 2016, “Work.” After a four year break, ANTI displayed that you cannot rush perfection. When Rihanna was finally allowed to take her time, she produced an unforgettable masterpiece.

Choice Track: Higher

18. good kid, m.A.A.d city (2012) — Kendrick Lamar

I’m not going to lie — upon Kendrick Lamar’s debut, I wasn’t fully convinced of his rap prowess. This may be as a result of my allegiance to Cole World, but I heard “Swimming Pools” and just didn’t get the hype. However, it was “Poetic Justice” that showed me that Kendrick Lamar was going to be one of the biggest rappers of all time. Anyone who samples Janet Jackson has already won in my book. Lamar erects the West Coast funk of Tupac, with the swagger of a man who refuses to have his vibe killed (see “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe.”) The record teems with humor and the reality of Lamar’s gangsta upbringing in Compton’s section 8 project housing. good kid, m.A.A.d city blends a versatility of characters, flows, rhymes and rhythms that leave you certain that Kendrick’s potential is boundless.

Choice Track: Poetic Justice (feat. Drake)

17. Saturn (2018) — Nao

Nao is an artist who hasn’t quite found her audience in the states. Saturn, however, which is nominated for the 2019 UK Mercury Prize and 2020 Grammy Award for Best Urban Contemporary Album, displays that her time is coming. If you don’t mind her (completely unedited) infant-like, spacey mezzo-soprano tone, you will fall in love with this album in just a few listens. She tells the story of when her “Saturn returned,” a phenomenon which describes a time in your life, usually in your late 20s ,when it feels like everything’s falling apart. She describes the album as her story of coalescence, of realizing that she may in fact “Make It Out Alive” of this time period in her life. That coalescence is palpable without an explanation of the project — you can feel her desperation, her journey through space, and her afro-futuristic declaration that we all will make it out of this hellscape alive.

Choice Track: Make It Out Alive (feat. SiR)

16. Born Sinner (2013) — J. Cole

“Got me up all night/All I’m singing is love songs.” This was the album that turned me into a Cole stan, so naturally it’s in my top 20. “Power Trip” was my most played song in my iTunes library in the 9th grade, and “Forbidden Fruit” showed me that sometimes the most bare production can produce an incredibly effective track. This album may very well be one of my favorite rap albums ever made. Cole tells the story of trying to live life authentically, what it means to be a Born Sinner, entering the world with a negative balance and spending the rest of your time crawling into the positive. Cole also demonstrated his gall with this album. “I’m drop the album same day as Kanye/Just to show the boyz the man now like Wanya.” He decided to risk foregoing a #1 album and prioritize challenging himself the most he could. And well, it paid off, because it went to #1 anyway — two weeks after its release.

Choice Track: Power Trip (feat. Miguel)

15. Thank U, Next (2019) — Ariana Grande

“If you take too long to hit me back/I can’t promise you how I’ll react/But all I can say is at least I’ll wait for you.” This is a hard one for me. I became an Ariana Grande stan the day I watched the Victorious/iCarly crossover episode and she had a brilliant 4 second solo. I found her YouTube covers shortly thereafter, and vowed that she would be a popstar one day. When she released “The Way,” I was there. When pop masterpiece “Baby I” unfortunately flopped, I was there and confident that one day her talent would secure her a spot on the A-list. Thus, it’s sad to see that someone who I supported for so long perpetuate the same B.S that so many white celebrities manipulate to gain success — appropriation of black and Asian identities, literal blackfishing, etc. Ariana Grande turned from my fave to my problematic fave in 2019. However, I cannot ignore how my stomach feels when I hear her music. Thank U, Next came just six months after Sweetener yet felt so much more honest, more raw. Songs like “Ghostin,” which detail Ariana’s emotional turmoil after Mac Miller’s death, are heartbreaking. “I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again/Over him.” After a mass shooting at her concert, the death of the love of her life, and a very public breakup with her fiance, Ariana took the time to be honest with us about how hard it is to exist in such a cruel world. At the end of the day, that artistry spoke to me.

Choice Track (TIE): imagine / needy

14. Pink Friday (2010) — Nicki Minaj

This is the album that properly introduced the world to one of the most impactful rappers (not female rappers — rappers) of our generation. Nicki Minaj represents what it means to work tirelessly, to work twice as hard. America loves blackness without the black person attached to it, and Nicki is someone who fought to take up the space she does based on talent and talent alone. Pink Friday is a rare kind of debut era that simply continued waxing. Her first single, “Your Love”, was a modest top 20 hit, enough for her label to fund more singles. Then they gave us more top 20 hits like “Right Thru Me” and “Moment 4 Life,” followed by breakout top-5 smash “Super Bass,” and iconic hits like “Did It On ’Em” and “Fly.” Pink Friday showed us that Nicki had what it takes to define rap for the next ten years — and she did indeed. If you try to clown Nicki’s legacy today, newsflash: your misogynoir is showing. If you are struggling to remember why Nicki has the legacy she has today, I welcome you to take a trip back down memory lane and #StreamPinkFriday.

Choice Track: Your Love

13. Everything is Love (2018) — The Carters

“Patiently waiting for my demise/’Cuz my success can’t be quantified/If I gave two fucks two fucks ‘bout streaming numbers/Would’ve put Lemonade up on Spotify/Fuck you.” Phew. I remember 2018 as a relatively sparse year for R&B, but Everything is Love was one of the few albums that really touched me during Summer 2018. I am one of the members of the BeyHive who usually loathes Jay-Z’s presence on a Bey track, and while I would definitely bump a version of Everything is Love without him, there’s an undeniable charm to the artistic chemistry Bey and Jay have. They riff off one another with such ease, crooning about their troubled yet beautiful love on tracks like “LOVEHAPPY” while showing us that Beyoncé is indeed a rapper on “NICE.” Bey reminds us that she does not need validation from award shows, chart accolades, or the press to be confident in her positionality as Queen Bey. Ultimately, the album is a beautiful showcase of black love, and although some of us (tag yourself: I’m us) would prefer Beyoncé’s love to exist without the trauma and cheating that has characterized it, Everything is Love reminds us that there remains a certain beauty to the trials and tribulations of black love.

Choice Track: HEARD ABOUT US

12. Dirty Computer (2018) — Janelle Monáe

Respectability politics means that the black artists at the forefront of the industry are typically straight and cis, instructed to not rock the boat as much as possible. Janelle Monáe broke that mold by serving us black femme queerness and black femme futurity in its most honest form. Her emotion picture and third studio album Dirty Computer is powerful in that it reimagines a dystopian world where black femme queerness exists at the center. Her work empowers me and my black queer friends to take up space wherever and whenever, helping us envision a world where the norm is a boundless proliferation of queer bodies and stories. One of my best friends’ senior theses is on the album’s genre/gender-bending, queer worldmaking capabilities. A part of her analysis declares that songs like “Don’t Judge Me” are a vulnerable plea to Monáe’s fans to accept her in all her queer glory — to understand that her queer identity is not to be compartmentalized but wholly embraced. I knew this album would impact me because upon its first listen it gave me a tangible amount of strength. I felt a new vitality in my step that came from watching a black queer woman declare herself powerful.

Choice Track: Screwed (feat. Zoe Kravitz)

11. Beyoncé (2014) — Beyoncé

It was sophomore year of high school in the depths of finals period. I woke up and saw my sister’s unforgettable tweet: “Beyoncé done got up and dropped an album. Don’t text. Don’t call.” I gasped. My jaw dropped. We left the library in droves, released from the shackles of a blindingly white New England winter by the most impactful, black femme musical moment of the last decade. The level of success that Beyoncé has attained has caused a lot of people to try to differentiate themselves by declaring her overrated. However, these declarations are so silly because the receipts are there. An album has not had a proper release date-announcement-preceding singles as promotion- rollout since Beyoncé released her critically acclaimed self-titled in 2014 with no promo and no prior announcement. It wasn’t leaked. Nobody knew. She completely shifted how music is released. She obliterated the status quo. She created the trend of the visual album. She put black womanhood on the forefront of everyone’s mind. She used her platform to declare black women as vital, as powerful. She showed us black women are allowed to be mothers and be sexual. She took us through the story of her miscarriage (see “Heaven”), showing us that black women are not perfect nor infallible. They are not superheroes. They are people. To quote the top comment on Beyoncé’s “XO” video on YouTube, “this song makes me feel a type of way I cannot understand, and I know that I am not the only one who feels like that.”

Choice Track (TIE): XO / Mine (feat. Drake)

10. The Thrill of it All (2017) — Sam Smith

While Sam Smith’s 2014 debut album helped me navigate the closet, their 2017 follow-up helped me trudge through the cruel world that awaited me outside of it. 2017, the year I came out, threatened my life. I thought that many of my close relationships would never be the same. But, Sam Smith showed me there was a light at the end of the tunnel. “’I’ve cried a thousand tears/And here we are after the war/But we’re so much better now the skies are clearer/ Now there’s no more slamming doors.” Smith sung passionately about what it means to feel unloved, and to feel wrong in your body, in your desires. They also let their listeners know that there is a life that extends past what my friend has named the “gay sadness,” the inexplicable feelings of self-loathing and melancholy that come with being queer in a homophobic world. Sam Smith told me that there is an “after the war,” and what a relief it was to know there was a world where I would feel comfortable in your own skin. Another bittersweet album, it soothed me to bed after many nights of sobbing in my pillow in 2017. “Say I shouldn’t be here but I can’t give up his touch/It is him I love/It is him/Don’t you try and tell me that God doesn’t care for us/It is him I love/It it him.” This album gave me the language to soothe my own cognitive dissonance.

Choice Track (TIE): HIM, No Peace (feat. Yebba)

9. The 20/20 Experience (2013) — Justin Timberlake

Although I’ll never forgive him for what he did to Janet Jackson at the 2004 Superbowl, I also will never forget how masterful his third studio album was. Justin Timberlake continued his trend of the Very Long Song, weaving in several motifs into one track. In a way, it’s almost unfair how many songs we get from JT in this album. To me, The 20/20 Experience is peak artistry. The multi-layered string and keyboard introduction of the narcotic-obsessed “Pusher Love Girl” is a proper usher into a musically complex, old-soul flavored album about love, sex, and sonic transformation. “That Girl,” whose cringey lyrics about loving a girl from “the other side of the tracks” are laughable at best, demonstrate that Justin Timberlake has a handle on what it means to be soulful. Although his invitation to the cookout was hasty (and in my opinion should be rethought), he definitely is a talented R&B artist. Sing, JT.

Choice Track: Pusher Love Girl

8. Take Care (2011) — Drake

“Live for today/Plan for tomorrow/Party tonight.” Drake created everlasting anthems by which to live with his second studio album in 2011. Although Drake’s bizarre co-opting of Afrobeats and Dancehall has made his latest work age poorly, Take Care had an undeniable impact on middle school me. Every single song is unforgettable. Andre 3000, Lil Wayne and Drake team up to tell the story of a girl whom they can’t get over on “The Real Her.” We are still saying Y.O.L.O (although it may be ironic at this point) in 2019. When “Practice” comes on during a sesh today, it’s impossible to forget the lyrics. Every middle schooler cried to “Marvin’s Room” in their room (both Drake’s original and JoJo’s stellar remix). The album’s title track also provided us with a long overdue hard-hitting and heartbreaking Rih and Drake collab. There’s something special about hearing Drake croon “I guess we’ll never know where Harvard gets us.” Although the line is less relatable for me now, it reminds me how integral Take Care was to me becoming a lover of music, and how you never quite know where your life will take you. I have declared for a long while that Drake will never make something quite like Take Care again. And honestly, that’s okay. The album’s lasting impact showed me that good music has the power to redefine an entire era of your life.

Choice Track: Crew Love (feat. The Weeknd)

7. A Seat at the Table (2016) — Solange

“I’m weary/Of the ways of the world.” A third of the top ten is albums by black people released in 2016, clearly showcasing how amazing of a year 2016 was for black music. Solange helped lead the charge with her third studio album. Despite A Seat at the Table being her breakout record, it was not my first time listening to her. I have fond memories of my mother and I dancing to the radio-friendly and clever psychedelic soul sounds of “T.O.N.Y” and “I Decided” from her debut album. However, A Seat at the Table demonstrates the moment when Solange found her sound, her lyricism and her story. There is a certain beauty in watching a black woman take the creative reigns and shine as a result. While her earlier hits were relatable, clever and mirthful, she shifted gears with her third album, using her platform to speak up about the experience of being black in a country that was built by you and not for you. A Seat at the Table gave black people music that was for us.

Released two months before Donald Trump’s election in 2016, the album became a soundtrack for black people to lean on in an especially precarious time. In all its beauty, sometimes blackness can be wretched and the articulation of those feelings — “And it’s like/Cranes in the Sky/Sometimes I don’t wanna feel those metal clouds” — were so long overdue from a mainstream album. She made us feel valid in our anger, declaring that we do in fact have “a lot to be mad about.” She sparks a conversation about feeling simultaneously exotified, commodified, and ignored by the same consumptive white gaze. She spoke with a collective “we” that made the album feel like an intracommunity conversation: “Don’t touch my hair/When it’s the feelings I wear/They don’t understand/What it means to me/Where we chose to go/Where we’ve been to know.” Most importantly, she declared herself an artist of her own. She shined a light on her artistry and message that eradicated any shadow of her sister that masked her potential before. Solange fought for her seat at the table and earned it with a stellar, unforgettable record of the same time that truly was for us, by us.

Choice Track: Weary

6. Blonde (2016) — Frank Ocean

“Keep a place for me/I’ll sleep between y’all/It’s nothing.” There is no way to quantify or qualify how much this album means to me, how much pain it encapsulates. Frank Ocean was the first queer black man who I saw. He was the first queer black man to tell a story with which I could resonate. On this album, he so perfectly captures what it means to be lonely (see “Solo.”) What it means to long so deeply for touch, for love, for a hug, and to be left alone with nothing. He also so flawlessly capsulizes the black experience, in perhaps a less literal and accessible way than Solange. In an especially intimate setting, he articulates how it feels to be black, queer, and depressed, often cemented at a nexus of invisibility, erasure and incorrectness.

The album is exhausting to listen to because of how intensely emotional it is. Frank poured every piece of himself into each and every minute of the album and it is palpable from the first listen. “Nikes” is an introspective critique of hedonism, while the deceivingly resplendent “Nights” details in two parts the vicissitudes of a deteriorating relationship: “Every night fucks every day up.” “Self Control” vividly paints a photo of the desperation that accompanies being all too aware of your tertiary status in relation to another: “Keep a place for me/I’ll sleep between y’all, it’s nothing.” The album is sumptuous and ornate in its sound in a way that Ocean’s debut album was not, yet it remains profoundly somber and rousing. Unlike many other albums on this list, it is not one I listen to all the time. Despite its masterful beauty, it can be exhausting to revisit the sadness that it evokes. However, I thank Frank regardless for giving me an album that put melodies and lyrics to feelings of sadness that are all too familiar for those who are black, those who are queer, those who are depressed, those who feel unloved and those who live with all or some of the aforementioned. Blonde is for them.

Choice Track (TIE): Solo / Self Control

5. Yours Truly (2013) — Ariana Grande

“You give me chills/Everytime we chill.” My favorite era of music is the 1990s. I wholeheartedly believe it was black R&B’s peak and truly an incubator for the sonic artistry that would go on to influence all of the pop and R&B that followed it. This means two things: 1) nothing can compare 2) any record that calls back to that time period is an automatic favorite. Ariana’s 2013 debut studio album is exactly that — such a refreshing, graceful ode to the 1990s and to Mariah, Monica, Whitney, Brandy, Deborah Cox, Tamia, and the other black women who defined the decade. Before blackface and cheesy culture-vulture trap beats, Ariana gave us her raw talent with her incredibly sophisticated 2013 debut album Yours Truly. She showed us that sometimes landing the supporting role on a Nickelodeon show is a blessing in disguise. It means the network doesn’t use their resources to manipulate you and thus your first record can be unapologetically you. Yours Truly feels like cruising in a car on a long, once quotidian and now distant road, nostalgic in its production yet hopeful in its lyrics. The album is simply joy. She calls back to 50s doo-wop with “Tattooed Heart,” and creates a perfect dramatic Broadway-esque pop duet with The Wanted’s Nathan Sykes on “Almost is Never Enough.” She displays that she has closely studied Mariah Carey on tracks like “Baby I,” and captures unadulterated bliss on “Lovin’ It” and “Piano.” Yours Truly embodies how music can make your heart race, erasing the anxiety you felt before it began and replacing it with euphoria. This album is fifth on my list because the tingles I feel in my chest and stomach when I hear songs like “Honeymoon Avenue” remind me why I love music more than anything else.

Choice Track: Honeymoon Avenue

4. 4 (2011) — Beyoncé

“I want to leave my footprint/On the sands of time.” I consider 4 to be for Beyoncé what ANTI was for Rihanna. Before 4, Beyoncé was clearly an international pop star. She delivered bop after bop, dominating the pop, R&B and hip-hop charts. But in 2011, she severed ties with her manager and father, took full creative control over her art and delved into the personal with her fourth studio album. 4 was the first time Beyoncé did not land a top ten pop hit off of an album, and it is no coincidence that it was her most honest record up to that point. It marked a moment when Beyoncé decided to prioritize her art before her chart accolades and awards. She delved into neo-soul and funk, and transitioned into motherhood with a more mature record, adult R&B oriented record. She also showed us her vulnerability — songs like “I Miss You” and “I Was Here” demonstrate that even Beyoncé has insecurities unreconciled and goals unsettled. She also tapped into her heart in a way she never had before. “1+1” is a song bore from the soul. It demonstrates that me and the Beyhive’s criticisms of her marriage, no matter how valid, stand meager when you consider the fact that someone can sing with such unrestrained love and fervor about a person. The album has something for every mood. The desperation of “I Care,” the felicity of “Party,” the range and zest of “Countdown,” (tell me y’all haven’t been practicing that iconic opening riff for the last 8 years) the sheer vocal mastery of Love On Top and its four key changes…4 is an album that is unforgettable because it was truly flawless. 4 showed us that Bey will never stop delivering.

Choice Track: 1+1

3. CTRL (2017) — SZA

“All I got is these broken clocks/I ain’t got no time/Just burning daylight.” It’s rare that an album can remain so newfangled and gratifying almost three years later. SZA’s debut studio album CTRL was scheduled for a 2015 release, but was delayed due to a “a kind of blinding paralysis brought on by anxiety.” SZA never got over this anxiety — the album was literally never finished. Her label took her hard drive away in 2016 because she would not stop reworking it.

You can sense this very anxiety in the album. SZA captures what it means to be a 20-something artist, stuck in limbo, begging for an out and a sign that you’re doing something right. She expresses how it feels to be a second choice, desired or lusted after but never prioritized, an experience all too familiar for black women of darker complexions. In detailing her experiences, she makes an album for black girls to resonate with: “Picking up a penny with a press on is easier than holding you down.” She begs her future man to “lie to me and tell me my booty getting bigger even if it ain’t.” SZA’s album is so relatable because she doesn’t pretend to be secure or confident. Even in the creation of the masterpiece, SZA was never sure it was good enough. She channels the insecurity that comes with a world that tells you you are not enough. She makes commutes feel possible with “Broken Clocks,” reassuring us that it is normal to be sick and tired of watching each day happen to you. SZA begs to just be a “Normal Girl,” the one who you can “bring home to mama” and who will not be judged for their intricacies, idiosyncrasies, skin tone, interests, or aesthetic. The struggles and pain that she details are the realities of young black people and black women who live in a world that feels like it is crumbling around us. It takes so much to push yourself to keep going when everything seems to say otherwise. She reminds us that sometimes, even if we know what we want is toxic, we want it anyway. In being brutally honest about her position in the world, SZA reminds us that we are never alone in our thoughts of self-doubt and destruction, self-loathing and deprecation. We are human. CTRL makes us feel comfortable in our own skin and that’s why every time I listen, it feels as if the album was released yesterday.

Choice Track (TIE): 20 Something / Broken Clocks

2. Lemonade (2016) — Beyoncé

“Nothing real can be threatened/True love breathes salvation back into me/With every tear came redemption/And my torturer became my remedy.” I wasn’t quite sure if Beyoncé could best the cultural moment she created with the unannounced release of her self-titled in 2014.

It seemed she heard my doubts — Lemonade proved to me that peaking is a word absent from Beyoncé’s lexicon.

Her 5th studio album, released once again with no promo nor warning, came at a time when hope felt bleak. A racist, xenophobic, misogynistic predator was gaining traction in the United States Presidential Election. Black bodies were being slain in cold blood with no legislative justice in sight. It felt that any progress made in our world was being robbed from us in front of our very eyes. What Beyoncé’s Lemonade declared is that black people have never and will never backed down in the face of oppression. Black stories, black voices, and black beauty have always prevailed over the antagonists who tried to silence and repress us. In “Formation,” Beyoncé declared that black people must get in formation and get information, her double entendre declaring that when we gather and stand resolute in what we know about ourselves and the historical lineages of struggle and persistence from which we stem, we are invincible. In her visual album, she captures the rage that comes with being a black woman every day in this country. She sports a bright yellow dress and an even brighter smile in the visuals for “Hold Up,” brandishing a baseball bat as she smashes everything in her sight along the way. She details the pain of heartbreak, at the hands of a black man who vowed to love her — “You know I give you life/If you try that shit again/You gon’ lose your wife.” She recounts the anxiety of infidelity, her “lonely ear/Pressed against the walls of your world/Prayin’ to catch you whispering.” She defends sex workers, reminding us that “she work for the money/she work for the money/From the start to the finish/And she worth every dollar/she worth every dollar/And she worth every minute.”

She shatters the confines of genre. No other woman in the industry today can snag Grammy nominations in pop, rock, urban and hip-hop with an album that spans across top 40, rap, country, alternative and R&B. Her rejection of being put in any one box is exactly why she looks us in the face and says “suck on my balls, bitch!” Lemonade is Beyoncé leaning fully into her artistry, collecting the stories and tribulations she saw and experienced throughout her life to deliver her story of black womanhood. Thank you, Queen Bey, for giving us the strength to persevere in a seemingly bleak world.

Choice Track: All Night

1. Channel Orange (2012) — Frank Ocean

“Looks like all we have is each other/The truth is obsolete.” Channel Orange is my absolute favorite album of the last ten years. It arrived at a very timely moment in my life. As I left my predominantly Black, Latino and immigrant suburb to embark on a journey to the ritzy, elitist Hotchkiss School boarding school on a full scholarship, the lyrics of Ocean’s “Super Rich Kids” heavily resonated with the ostentatious displays of white wealth that awaited me in the depths of Connecticut. “Too many bottles of this wine we can’t pronounce/too many bowls of that green no lucky charm/Maids come around too much/Parents ain’t around enough.” Ocean so aptly described the super rich kids with nothing but fake friends and loose ends that I would spend the next four years of my life with. White people with old money, money that precedes America itself, looked at me with disgust when my middle school was not recognizable to them. “You got a landscaper and a housekeeper/Since you were born/The sunshine always kept you warm/So why see the world?/When you got the beach.” He helped me comprehend their mindset. Why see the world when you got the beach? Channel Orange helped me make sense of the bizarre world of unimaginable privileged that I had entered. This world oftentimes made me feel microscopic. It made me resent my family. It made me wonder why we didn’t live a life like them. But what Ocean so perfectly articulated on Channel Orange was that white, privileged wealth was as static an identity as race itself. It was planned, institutionalized, and carefully curated. His response to deride and critique the overconsumptive, oblivious lives of the wealthy elite gave me the language I needed to relocate peace with the upbringing I had and make sense of the nonsensical life that those around me were so painfully unaware of.

Ocean also aptly described the queer desire that was slinking its way up my back and neck, chasing after me like a clock I could not beat. Besides the creeping intrusive thoughts that perhaps my transfixion on the bodies of boys in my middle school classes was indicative of something more than curiosity, I had not yet confronted my queer desires at the point of Channel Orange’s release in 2012. When I heard “Forrest Gump,” I felt an indescribable feeling of visibility. I hadn’t let myself think about a boy long enough to declare my love for him, but it showed me that perhaps one day I could. “You run my mind, boy/Running on my mind, boy.” Even my hypermasculine, straighter-than-an-arrow friends could not deny that “Forrest Gump” was a brilliantly constructed song. I recall one friend saying “I don’t care if he’s singing ‘bout a boy, it’s my favorite one.” It showed me that when art is beautiful, its message is universal.

For a black boy who grew up on faith, Ocean also described how terrifying it is to learn that your own being is antithetical to the man in the sky who you were raised to unequivocally trust in. To learn that he may hate you, and that people who love him may want to hurt you because of who you are is a harrowing, arduous experience. “This unrequited love/To me, it’s nothin’ but a one-man cult/And cyanide in my styrofoam cup/I can never make ’em love me.” I can never make him love me. It felt I could never make God love me. I had never in my life heard a song that described the feelings and thoughts I had in my head about my sexuality. I had never heard a black man talk about his struggles with his queerness. Ocean’s lyrics provided me with an extrication from my own head — he made me realize I wasn’t the only person feeling this way. He made me realize that perhaps, if others had these thoughts, then maybe they conquered these thoughts too. He saved my life.

The 2010s brought us so many brilliant albums, but it was Frank Ocean’s Channel Orange that impacted me most. Thank you, Frank, for allowing a young black queer boy to be seen.

Choice Track: Forrest Gump

Cahleb’s 35 favorite albums of 2010–2019:

Channel Orange (2012) — Frank Ocean
Lemonade (2016) — Beyoncé
CTRL (2016) — SZA
4 (2011) — Beyoncé
Yours Truly (2013) — Ariana Grande
Blonde (2016) — Frank Ocean
A Seat at the Table (2016) — Solange
Take Care (2011) — Drake
The 20/20 Experience (2013) — Justin Timberlake
The Thrill of it All (2017) — Sam Smith

Beyoncé (2014) — Beyoncé
Dirty Computer (2018) — Janelle Monáe
Everything is Love (2018) — The Carters
Pink Friday (2010) — Nicki Minaj
Thank U, Next (2019) — Ariana Grande
Born Sinner (2013) — J. Cole
Saturn (2018) — Nao
good kid, m.A.A.d city (2012) — Kendrick Lamar
ANTI (2016) — Rihanna
2014 Forest Hills Drive (2014) — J. Cole

Journals (2013) — Justin Bieber
The Life of Pablo (2016) — Kanye West
In The Lonely Hour (2014) — Sam Smith
G I R L (2014) — Pharrell
K.T.S.E (2018) — Teyana Taylor
Acid Rap (2013) — Chance The Rapper
Doo-Woops and Hooligans (2010) — Bruno Mars
Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded (2012) — Rihanna
Invasion of Privacy (2018) — Cardi B
Nothing Was The Same (2013) — Drake

Trilogy (2012) — The Weeknd
After Laughter (2017) — Paramore
Camp (2011) — Childish Gambino
Unorthodox Jukebox (2012) — Bruno Mars
Bangerz (2013) — Miley Cyrus