It is hard to imagine electronic music experiencing a stranger and more unsettling year than this one; only something like the collapse of the internet, or the electrical grid itself, might inflict even more damage than the pandemic has wrought on dance music’s customs, economy, and morale. But the music has always been among the most utopian of art forms, and in the absence of clubs, this year’s most visionary electronic musicians kept us dancing in our kitchens and our living rooms and our minds, dreaming of a day when we might finally come together once again. Encompassing singles, EPs, albums, and compilations, from artists as varied as Autechre, Róisín Murphy, Jayda G, Theo Parrish, and Lyra Pramuk, these were the records that made isolation bearable. (The following list, sorted alphabetically, includes albums and tracks found on Pitchfork’s main year-end tallies, as well as additional entries that did not make those lists but are just as worthy of your time.)
Check out all of Pitchfork’s 2020 wrap-up coverage here.
(All releases featured here are independently selected by our editors. When you buy something through our retail links, however, Pitchfork may earn an affiliate commission.)
Haus of Altr
AceMo: I Want to Believe / AceMoMA: A New Dawn / Gallery S: Gallery S / MoMA Ready: Deep Technik / Various Artists: HOA011
It would have been easy for DJs to feel dispirited by 2020’s club closures, but not AceMo and MoMA Ready. As rising central figures in the New York underground, the two producers took advantage of their forced sabbatical by immersing themselves in the studio. The result was one of the most remarkable and prolific runs in recent dance music. AceMo’s I Want to Believe and MoMA Ready’s Deep Technik both lean into the lush chords and wistful emotions of classic Detroit techno, and are delivered with a raw, unvarnished immediacy. On his self-titled album as Gallery S, MoMA Ready balances blissfully deep anthems like “Grace Under Pressure” with hardware-centric forays into jungle and footwork. And together in the duo AceMoMA, the two zig and zag between sampled soul, cut-up breaks, rave stabs, and radically swung machine grooves, folding disparate influences into an ecstatic shot of energy. Combined with a string of compilations from MoMA Ready’s Haus of Altr label that showcased the strength and creativity of “unabashed black electronic expression,” they proved that, despite everything, dance music remains not just alive and kicking, but urgent as ever. —Philip Sherburne
AceMo, I Want to Believe**:** Apple Music | Bandcamp | Spotify | Tidal
AceMoMA, A New Dawn**:** Apple Music | Bandcamp | Spotify | Tidal
Gallery S, Gallery S**:** Apple Music | Bandcamp | Spotify
MoMA Ready, Deep Technik**:** Apple Music | Bandcamp | Spotify | Tidal
Various Artists, HOA011**:** Bandcamp
XL
Arca: KiCk i
In February, electronic experimentalist Arca dropped @@@@@, a 62-minute song framed as a pirate-radio broadcast from a post-singularity future that begins with whispers of a “diva constructed.” KiCk i, released four months later, is the Barcelona-based musician’s more straightforward take on diva-hood. Bullet casings fall to the floor on opener “Nonbinary,” but Arca isn’t under attack: “I do what I wanna do when I wanna do it,” she deadpans, and then proceeds to prove it by remaking herself with each track. KiCk i is her first record to prominently feature several guest singers, with Björk, Rosalía, SOPHIE, and Shygirl all present to witness her various metamorphoses. She turns liquid on the synth-sheathed “Time,” raps on the chaotic “Riquiquí,” and glitches with her voice pitched high on “Rip the Slit.” Presented as the first of four eventual albums, KiCk i shares all the promise of becoming, in both its pain and its joy. –Colin Lodewick
Listen/Buy: Rough Trade | Apple Music | Spotify | Tidal
Warp
Autechre: SIGN
Autechre’s method lends itself to difficulty. Working remotely in separate cities, the duo’s members collaborate in code by testing, tweaking, and endlessly reiterating upon one another’s software patches, yielding unpredictable patterns and perpetually bifurcating fractals. Over the past decade, their output had become increasingly convoluted, but with SIGN, they reined in the sprawl and got in touch with their emotions. The result: an hour-long mood piece that infuses their dazzlingly abstract sonic world-building with deep feeling, giving us a refreshingly complex take on melancholy. –Philip Sherburne