This year was a rich one for Canadian music, complete with history-making moments and much-anticipated performances.

Jeremy Dutcher became the first ever artist to win the Polaris Music Prize twice; Céline Dion released a documentary about her stiff-person syndrome diagnosis that broke our hearts, and then she sang them back together with her breathtaking comeback performance atop the Eiffel Tower; Joni Mitchell made her Grammy Awards performance debut; and Taylor Swift's Eras tour descended upon Canada — all while Drake and Kendrick Lamar have been embroiled in a year-long rap beef.

And then there was all the new music: from Shawn Mendes's folksy comeback, to Nemahsis's against-all-odds debut, to Charlotte Day Wilson's now Grammy-nominated sophomore album. We've had an incredible selection from which to make our list of best albums of the year.

So sit back, put your headphones on and have a look at our 2024 list of best Canadian albums, as chosen by CBC Music's editorial team. What have we missed? Let us know in the comments.

"'Cause I don't really know who I am right now/ no, I don't really know who I am right now," Shawn Mendes quietly repeats on his new album's opening track, "Who I Am." It's a vulnerable start to a record that comes two years after Mendes cancelled a tour and took a break from live music to prioritize his mental health, setting the tone for a 12-song tracklist that wraps with a cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." On Shawn, the Grammy-nominated, Juno-winning pop singer from Pickering, Ont., relies on folk and country to get him through this challenging time, giving us standout songs including "The Mountain," where he navigates his sexuality, and the stomp-clap-hey warmth of "Heart of Gold," about a friend who died from an overdose. The man is clearly going through something, and we are here for his open heart and genre shift. — Holly Gordon

You've never heard anything quite like Jonah Yano & the Heavy Loop. Distortion, neo jazz, indie rock, R&B, experimental, ambient noise, melodic (sometimes!) chaos — often all in one song — and yet every moment feels intentional, warm, soulful and divine. Textures abound: a soft crunch on the tender duet "Snowpath" featuring Clairo; a delicate shimmer floating atop a moving river of cello on "No Pretty Magic" featuring Helena Deland and Ouri; a playfully fuzzy cacophony on "Romance ESL." In crafting something as surprising as it is delightful and heartfelt, Yano reveals there's more than method to this madness: there's actually endless emotion and artistry here, too. — Andrea Warner

Ruby Waters first burst onto the scene in 2018 with her spunky, authentic single "Sweet Sublime," setting herself apart with her unfiltered lyricism and powerful voice. Six years later, after a handful of EPs, tours with City and Colour and a Juno nomination, she dropped her debut album, What's the Point — and it was worth the wait. Waters' colourful depictions of growing up and getting it on are rife with introspection, yet always exploding with passion. Her signature raspy vocals add a layer of novelty to each track, shining on standouts such as the slow-burn breakup song "Liquor Run" and the anthemic, rip-roaring "Numbers," on which she proclaims: "I don't give a f--k what comes next." It's clear that Waters' gift as an artist is that she's never pretended to be anything other than herself, and What's the Point retains the rawness that has been present across all of her releases, even that first single. By the time listeners get to album closer "Droppin Out," it's as if they've been through the pages of Waters' diary, listening to her as she blooms. — Natalie Harmsen

Clairmont the Second's new release is built for headphones. The entirely self-produced album, his first since 2020's It's Not How it Sounds, presents an eerie, immersive soundscape complete with G-funk-inspired swirling synths throughout, as well as a mix of singing and rapping. On standout tracks "bbhr" and "ushudcry," Clairmont balances introspection and emotional depth with sonic richness, not to mention a subtle nod to New Orleans' love of the "Triggerman" loop. The album opener, "lately," begins with a lone bongo drum before introducing a smooth, slinking bassline, steadily layering elements to create the lush, cinematic atmosphere that defines the next 35 minutes of the album. Songs effortlessly bleed into each other as the Toronto-based rapper/producer deals with topics like ambition, vulnerability and strength of character for one of his most cohesive projects yet. — Jesse Kinos-Goodin

"Can a thought grow wings and ascend in turn?" Luna Li's Hannah Bussiere Kim ponders on "Bon Voyage," a track off her sophomore album. While that question is posed near the end of its 11-track run, the entire project is proof of Kim turning thought into action, capturing some big changes in her life since her 2022 debut, Duality. From navigating a significant breakup to uprooting her life and moving to Los Angeles, Kim turns these transformative experiences into her signature dreamscape pop melodies, showing off a notable poise and maturity in the process. Her lyrics have gained strength through vulnerability, her instrumentals have grown more lush and full, and her sonic experimentations (from multiple key changes on "Fantasy" to her classical interpolation on "Confusion Song") show a continually expanding range in creativity. Kim has undoubtedly grown her wings and taken full flight on this gorgeously elevated new release. — Melody Lau

In a time when forward-thinking innovation is valued most — just think of the rapidly evolving conversations around AI this year — Cindy Lee's Diamond Jubilee is an invitation (or challenge) to slow down and look back. What makes a perfect pop song? What does it feel like to not make music as a means for virality? Cindy Lee frontperson Patrick Flegel circumvented traditional platforms for their throwback pop-rock opus, perhaps as a way to protest modern-day streaming structures — but they also proved that a great album can still thrive and be discovered on its own terms. Over the course of two hours, Flegel weaves yearning, romance and hope together through '60s girl-group melodies, glam-rock riffs and psychedelia that feels breezy and effortless, but can only be accomplished by a skilled visionary. It's dangerously easy to get lost in the timeless tunes of Diamond Jubilee. — ML

Red Future marked a shift for Snotty Nose Rez Kids: it's the first major label release for the Haisla rap duo, who used the opportunity to turn up their sound and amass a series of genre-spanning collaborations (Princess Nokia, Jeremy Dutcher, Tia Wood and more) to help them tap into themes of Indigenous futurism. Boisterous bars and sharp political commentary are all trademarks of Darren "Young D" Metz and Quinton "Yung Trybez" Nyce, and they flex these skills with aplomb on fizzing songs such as "Future Ancestors" and "Peaches." "Red Future is just about us thriving, for the next generation and the generation after that and the generation after that," they said when describing the concept of the album, and if the depth of the tracks is any indication, Young D and Yung Trybez have executed on what their vision for the future looks and sounds like. The vivid lyrics and eye-catching music videos contribute to the record's avant-garde esthetic, and the end result is fiery, rambunctious and fun, delivered with a fierceness that is distinctly Snotty Nose Rez Kids. — NH

"Pleure pas ma fille, sinon Maman va pleurer" is something Sarahmée's mother said to her after her brother, Karim Ouellet, tragically died in November 2021. The phrase — don't cry, my daughter, or else Maman will cry — can be read as a kindness, as Sarahmée told La Presse, but also asks: "But can I finally cry?" The answer, she decided, was yes, and a year into her grieving the Senegalese Canadian rapper was able to return to music and make an album that she says feels the most true to herself yet. Pleure pas ma fille begins with a moving homage to Sarahmée's family and brother, sung by griot Fatoumata Koné in Wolof. Afrobeat follows on "À la dur," or "the hard way," as Sarahmée nimbly raps about what she's been through while buoyed by a chorus of women fishers from Senegal. Her mother, Carole Audet, plays the kora on trap-inspired "Reines," and fellow Montrealer Dominique Fils-Aimé brings the album to a touching end with the R&B and hip-hop fusion of "Juste du love." Pleure pas ma fille is a communal celebration and commemoration — and Sarahmée's best album yet. — HG

"They all want a kitten, but nobody ever wants a cat/ she taught me that," Kaia Kater sings on Strange Medicine, a timely and genre-defying (neo-folk-jazz-traditional barely covers its breadth) record that's among the most inventive, daring and creative releases of the year. Kater, a singer-songwriter, producer and clawhammer banjoist, creates and plays from a place of curiosity, a musician whose natural inclinations toward intersections and confluences have made her an artist who is impossible to define. Her first new record in six years, Kater has described writing Strange Medicine, not just from the perspective of telling the stories of historically oppressed folks, but to also "finally write about the times in my life when I didn't feel like I had a voice, in order to give myself one now." — AW

Caribou's eighth album, Honey, opens with "Broke My Heart," a high-octane, bubblegum house number that makes it demonstrably evident that subtlety isn't the aim here. There's less of the wistful emoting and nostalgic introspection of his previous albums, 2020's Suddenly and 2014's Our Love, and instead more simplistic animalism; Caribou is honing in on sounds that make bodies want to move. Honey is rife with endorphin-rushing, pupil-dilating dance music — although made in Dan Snaith's basement studio, it's primed to fill an entire warehouse. The production is as lush as ever, and it begs to be played on the best speakers possible. An at-home setup will do, but this is music that takes on new life when heard live, from the subwoofer bass of the title track, to the shiny '80s synth on "Over Now," to the propulsive wall-of-sound on album closer "Got to Change." Snaith surprised many when it was announced that he used AI on this record to make his voice sound like a dozen other voices, from the washed-out female vocals on "Come Find Me" to the R&B-style vocal delivery on "Volume." It mostly works, because the essence of Snaith is still there under the manipulated voices: "It is some kind of alchemy — changing my voice into something that is both mine and not mine," he shared in a press release. — Kelsey Adams

It takes so much skill and artistry to sound this effortless and natural, and Wyatt C. Louis is just getting started. On their debut, Chandler, the Treaty 6 singer-songwriter, who is nêhiyaw, establishes themself as a gifted vocalist, producer, guitarist, collaborator and lyricist. They are not an overnight success — Louis's first release was in 2017 — but that's partly what infuses Chandler with its lowkey confidence. Against vivid arrangements that feature pedal steel, dobro, trumpet, cello and banjo, to name a few, Louis invites us inside the lives of narrators who we know right away because they're us and we're them, and the result is intimate songs that sprawl across myriad landscapes. Making the ultra-specific universal affirms Louis's place among the new generation of great singer-songwriters. — AW

Charlotte Day Wilson's second album, Cyan Blue, is aptly titled, as a palette of vivid blues drives the storytelling on each song. For Wilson, blue is not the colour of sadness but rather, the vibrant hue she associates with falling in love: "Am I the same as you? Just a different shade of blue?" she sings on "Canopy;" there are the "always blue and sometimes green" eyes of a lover on the title track; and the simple line "skies are blue" on her gorgeous cover of "Over the Rainbow." Love is the fuel across the record, and whether she is falling out of it, chasing it or tasting it, Wilson paints each piece with her emotions echoing through. Her deep and dulcet vocals pop on the softer tracks such as "Money" or the piano ballad "Forever," and her songwriting is also stellar, but it's the production and engineering that really shine: fellow Torontonian Jack Rochon co-produced the album, which afforded Wilson the freedom to have fun, while still focusing on writing and singing. It's no wonder Cyan Blue recently earned a Grammy nomination — Wilson's first as a lead artist — for best engineered album, non-classical. — NH

The story of Verbathim, the debut full-length album from Toronto-based pop artist Nemahsis, is one that was almost never told. In early October 2023, Nemah Hasan, a.k.a. Nemahsis, signed to a record label in L.A. with a fully formed album and plan ready to go; a few days later, Oct. 7 happened. By Oct. 12, the Palestinian Canadian artist posted a drastic change to her trajectory on TikTok: "My label just dropped me, a Palestinian artist, for being pro-Palestine." As she told Q's Tom Power, no label she called afterward would sign her. She was too "controversial." Finally, by May 2024 — just a few months after Stevie Wonder made a venue delay her show so he could catch it — Hasan decided to go it independently, giving us one of the year's most exquisite albums.

Verbathim is the culmination of so much for Hasan, as her voice rings clear as a bell through thick fog. With sharp and intuitive pop production, Verbathim's songs overflow with heart and skill, revealing a catalogue that's better than much of what's on the Billboard charts — but delivered by an artist whose experience as a Muslim Palestinian hijabi in the West keeps her from being heard as a chart-topping pop star. "I swear if I showed you a song I made/ you'd say it's not your taste/ if anyone else but me wrote it, it's a masterpiece," she sings on standout "stick of gum," which she paired with a joyful video filmed in Jericho in the West Bank while visiting family earlier this year. On Verbathim, Nemahsis is giving us everything she's got — and everyone should be listening. — HG

Kaytranada begins his third solo album declaring it a classic. It's a bold proclamation, and one he backs up over the course of its 21 songs. His style of dance music has always been influenced by his deep awareness of other Black genres — not just hip-hop, but also new jack swing, house, soul, funk and more. Kaytranada's work exists on a continuum that threads the past, present and future of Black musicality, making Timeless a fitting title for his most ambitious project to date. His selection of vocalists reflects that sensibility: Childish Gambino, Rochelle Jordan, Tinashe, Channel Tres, Charlotte Day Wilson, Anderson .Paak, Durand Bernarr and more provide gospel soul, disaffected rap, alt-R&B, and '70s funk. Beyond the vocal choices, he pushes his productions, playing with unexpected drum patterns, live instrumentation and inspired samples ("Drip Sweat" featuring Channel Tres samples Lyn Collins's song "Think (About It)," produced by James Brown). With each new release Kaytranada just gets deeper into his pocket, and Timeless is proof that he's in a class all his own. — KA

"Name of God," the first single off Mustafa's Dunya, arrived almost a year before the full album was released. It was an introduction to many of the themes the Toronto artist is contending with throughout his first full-length: crises of faith, community violence and grief. Dunya is the followup to his debut, When Smoke Rises, an EP heavy with loss that cemented Mustafa as a formidable new voice in folk following its release in 2021. The new album finds him apprehensively figuring out how to move through the world in the aftermath of his loss: "It's me trying to do everything in my power to uphold the world that's actively, kind of falling apart around me," he said in an interview with CBC Music.

There's a singularity to Mustafa's music, captured with lyrics that reflect a subject matter never before explored in Canadian folk: "And the day that I had you/ yelling, 'Gang-gang-gang' in my room," from "SNL," or "And if they ever kill me/ make sure they bury me next to my brother/ make sure my killer has money for a lawyer," from "Leaving Toronto" are just glimpses into his lived experience growing up as a Black man in a disenfranchised part of the city. Each Mustafa project is a colossal offering, and beyond the revelatory nature of his songwriting, the music itself is sonically riveting. On Dunya, he blends American-style folk with traditional Sudanese instrumentation, enlisting the help of songwriters and producers including Aaron Dessner, Nicolas Jaar, Dacoury Dahi Natche, Rosalia, Abdel Gadir Salim, Clairo and Simon Hessman to bring his hybrid style to life. Dunya sounds both nostalgic and fresh, a new take on a well-trodden genre — as Mustafa continues to etch his people and their stories into the collective remembrance. — KA