One of the most impactful albums on my life is The Human Condition by Jon Bellion. Released in 2016, this album sees Jon examining what it means to be human and the control he has over those factors. From pop culture, to fashion, relationships, nostalgia, technology, Jon comes to the understanding that the uncertainty which comes with them is not his to carry the burden of or be controlled by, and he’s okay with that. This album also explores a varying array of genres, bouncing around from pop, hip-hop, R&B, electronica, soul and even gospel, leaving every song feeling very unique and interesting, while simultaneously having a feeling of connection between each other. The final track, Hand of God, sees Jon reinstating his realization that he does not need complete control over his life, before being joined by a gospel choir who combine lyrics from almost every song on the album into one final celebration of what this project meant, and the journey the listener just went through. This moment obviously hits hard on its own, it’s a gospel choir, but when listened to in the context of the album, it is elevated so much more. 

I think this feeling of cohesiveness is something that is lost in most mainstream music. Projects that were made to be looked at as a whole piece of art have been traded for a collection of singles meant to be consumed outside of the context of which it was released, meant to be turned into a relatable TikTok trend, meant to be added to your “Chillhop lofi study vibes” playlist. What feels lost in most modern music isn’t just the structure of the album, it’s the sense of intentionality. When songs are created to stand alone, they lose the thread that ties them to something larger. There’s no buildup, no resolution, no emotional journey to follow. Everything starts and ends within three minutes, and the listener moves on without ever being asked to sit with a feeling for too long. In a way, the idea of an album, being a complete, intentional piece of art, has started to feel lost. 

This isn’t meant to say the entire music industry has thrown the album to the wayside, there are still many artists who care about making music this way, and many more listeners who seek it out. hypochondriac by experimental-pop artist Brakence examines the impact his egoism has on his life and personal relationships, and uses aspects of glitch-pop to depict the destructive impact it has on himself. This summer, Quadeca, an artist I’ve written about before, released Vanisher, Horizon Scraper, a psychedelic folk album from the perspective of a sailor making a perilous voyage to reach the horizon. Samurai by Lupe Fiasco is a concept album written from the perspective of Amy Winehouse becoming a battle rapper (yes this is real). Each of these albums have individual tracks that I listen to alone all the time, but they show that when an artist takes the time to craft a complete work, the songs elevate each other more than any single track could.

At the end of the day, I don’t think it’s a bad thing that some music is meant to stand on its own. I don’t always want to go through some emotional journey on my walk to campus, sometimes I just want a good song to get me from point A to point B. But I think when you only look at songs in that way, you miss out on what they can do as a piece of a whole. There’s something special about when tracks connect, when they build off each other and tell a complete story. When an album comes together like that, each song elevates the next, creating something bigger than any single track could be. Sure, stained glass is pretty, but mosaics are beautiful.