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The Best Albums of 2022 So Far

From Rosalía to Harry Styles to Bad Bunny, here are our favorite albums of the year so far — unranked

Sacha Lecca, 2; Lillie Eiger; Griffin Lotz; Renell Medrano

This year we’ve already seen epic albums from the Weeknd and Kendrick Lamar, a legendary farewell from Daddy Yankee, breakout debuts from Fivio Foreign, Koffee, and Wet Leg, as well as new artistic peaks from FKA Twigs, Charli XCX, Angel Olsen, and others. Here is our (unranked, alphabetically ordered) list of the best LPs of 2022 so far.

From Rolling Stone US

56

The Weeknd, ‘Dawn FM’

We love our artists fucked-up, frankly. There’s something in the deep recesses of self-induced suffering that seems to bring out the best in them. But it’s all fun and games until they wind up a walking self-help aisle. The 16 songs on Dawn FM don’t grapple with the idea of addiction in the way we’ve come to expect from him (none of the addled “glass-table girls” of last decade’s demon time), and infidelities amount to wistful moments of vulnerability as opposed to tortured diatribes. If there’s a self-help vibe here, it’s refreshingly light and accessible — self-help for the selfie set. —W.D.

57

Wet Leg, ‘Wet Leg’

Two women with guitars, coming on fierce, cool, arrogant, lusty, funny, not the least bit apologetic. Wet Leg might revel in Pavement-style guitar slack, but, again like Pavement, they turn it into deceptively crafty tension-and-release eruptions. It goes with the emotional roller coaster of the songs — for all the sardonic laughs, Wet Leg don’t play coy about sexual politics. “Piece of Shit” seems like a funny diss song, but it’s full of acerbic reflections on misogyny. Same with “Loving You” and “Ur Mum,” where Rhian Teasdale rips an ex to shreds: “When I think about what you’ve become/I feel sorry for your mum.” —R.S.

58

Wilco, ‘Cruel Country’

The fact that they’ve decided to detour back to the country roots they never wanted isn’t as big a deal as it might have been 10 or 15 years ago. But it’s not nothing, either, as their new record’s ironic title suggests. Mostly, they evoke Americana at its folkiest and most comforting, from the New Morning-era Dylanesque “I Am My Mother” to the cosmic pastoralism of the Dead-like reveries “Many Worlds” and “Bird Without a Tail/Base of My Skull.” These songs, all 21 of them, flow by at a languid pace, rolling into dark eddies of moody personal reflection, then opening out into warm vistas of guarded generosity. —J.D.