He was only 18 at the top of the decade, when he and his childhood friends were dubbed the Next Great Punk Band, and across four albums and countless shows, they put in the work needed to uphold the claim. With limbs flailing and sweat matting his hair, Iceage frontman Elias Bender Rønnenfelt grew up before our eyes. “All you had to do was listen,” she said. Legend has it, she hung up on the first interviewer she spoke to about the record-the question was about Shelton’s new partner, Gwen Stefani-and decided that she would do no press surrounding the album, letting the music speak for itself. For Lambert, redemption comes from buying a cheap pair of plastic sunglasses, by spending late nights alone at the bar, in knowing that she alone controls her destiny. Its songs are torch ballads and highway anthems with a live band that feels borne of late night jam sessions, raw and unglamorous. Her ambitious double album The Weight of These Wings carries on in a grand tradition of messy relationship statements: It has the grit of Tom Petty’s Wildflowers and the uncertainty of Bruce Springsteen’s Tunnel of Love, wrapped up in Lambert’s fiery, down-home charm. But when they divorced in 2015, the breakup encouraged her to go down a darker, more existential path. Miranda Lambert: The Weight of These Wings (2016)įor the first half of the decade, Miranda Lambert was a country superstar with a string of radio hits, a recurring spot on The Voice, and a picture-perfect marriage to fellow singer Blake Shelton. Listen/Buy: Rough Trade | Apple Music | Tidalġ89. It's music that rewards close attention in an age where that is increasingly rare. The wistfulness is often self-referential, as on “Snowed In at Wheeler Street,” a tale of star-crossed lovers with lyrics threaded with references to her old songs. The material is more wistful: Where Bush’s best singles have often been about having something beautiful that you’re about to lose, much of 50 Words for Snow addresses things that are already lost. 50 Words for Snow, named for the myth that the Inuit have such a vocabulary, boasts all of her trademark magical realism, fantastical lovers, and far-flung settings, but the songs are more quietly ambitious than past works-almost like chamber pieces. And she does so wide-eyed and full-heartedly, even painstakingly. On Kate Bush’s only studio album of the decade, she sings about catching a snowflake out of the sky, warning a hunted yeti, and sleeping with a dissolving snowman.

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