Halftime Leisure

Best of 2023: Albums

Album cover for Janelle Monae's The Age of Pleasure (2023) Courtesy of Atlantic Records

Fountain Baby Amaarae

Foreign cars whizzing through the city, Armani and Dior, diamonds dripping from her wrists and neck—this is the life of luxury that Amaarae lures us into on her sophomore album Fountain Baby. The Ghanaian-American singer marries R&B, trap music, house influences, and Afrobeats in perfect harmony, entrancing listeners into a high-femme club fantasy. “Bling, bling, bling, bling, bling, I like chains on chains,” she chants on the first full-length track “Angels in Tibet,” never hesitating to demand what she wants. Across the album, her hypnotically sweet, high-register vocals contrast the deeper West African dunun and breakneck synths, bridged by twinkling harps and keys in the middle. Not only does she indulge grandeur, but she dives head-first into the the titular “fountain”: “Me and my bitch got matching titties / She got ‘Fountain Baby’ tatted ’cause she fucking with me,” she sings coquettishly, revealing her album to be a self-titled one. Its distinctly feminine energy is born from the dual function of the “fountain” as both her birthplace and source of desire, bringing the metaphor full-circle in this masterfully developed concept album. 

Tempted by seductively lethal “acid pussy” and the “demon with Dior on the dresser,” Amaarae’s penchant for danger lands her in lust-fueled trysts. But Fountain Baby’s excess, at times to the point of hedonism, never engulfs her completely. “Maybe the money’s in my way,” she concedes near the album’s end on the slower, more sensual track “Aquamarine Luvs Ecstasy.” It’s not revolutionary in sentiment, but that’s the whole point: Amaarae picks her moments of candor sparingly, stripping away lyrical witticisms to strike a chord of sincerity. The push-and-pull between her self-indulgent impulses and the emotions that ground her coincide with addictive dance beats and downtempo reprieves from the floor, giving Fountain Baby moments of both tenderness and unfettered fun—and what more could we want from a night out on the town? Maya Kominsky

Rick Ricky Montgomery

There is always something daring about naming an album after oneself—how can an artist embody their whole self in just a few songs? However, indie-pop artist Ricky Montgomery masterfully resolves this dilemma by breaking himself into multiple selves across multiple works. A stellar sophomore album released seven whole years after its predecessor Montgomery Ricky (2016), Rick is technically also self-titled. Rather than follow the traditional route of assuming just one artistic identity, whether it be his legal name or a stage name, Montgomery puts multiple different versions of himself on display. But which one is the real him? He forfeits his real name, Richard Owen Holmes Montgomery, to present us with Ricky, which we’ve seen the most: it’s his stage name, his social media handles, and is immortalized in his first album. But on Rick, we get a glimpse of Richard for the first time in “I’m Just Joking in This Interlude,” when his mother admonishes him for making a crude joke. We also get to know Rick, a facet of his identity that he seems to be really emphasizing, having even recruited the help of another famous Rick (Astley) to promote his album. He leaves the dramatics and theatrics of Montgomery Ricky behind to mellow himself out, resulting in a much more toned down, refined sounding album. Montgomery, as Ricky, has been long linked to sad (tragic, really) anime communities (namely Banana Fish and Jujutsu Kaisen), creating an interesting codependency between his fans and those communities; but he pivoted when promoting “Boy Toy,” the album’s second single, by calling upon less depressing fandoms—and fans of SK8 the Infinity came to answer through a myriad of edits. As the title suggests, it is an upbeat song, and a pleasant surprise given the melancholy of the rest of his discography. Montgomery goes so far as to sardonically claim “I’m not as sad as I used to be,” but listening through the rest of the album reveals that that’s not at all true. Sure, “Type A,” which he modeled after an anime opening, might support his claim, but the rest of Rick takes on a darker tone. On “Truth or Dare,” he outlines the dangers of suburban hell, and “Sometimes I Need To Be Alone” details anxiety and the need for isolation in a relationship. Most devastating, however, would have to be “Black Fins,” an ode to his father after his self-inflicted passing, exploring well-worn grief and the freedom of acceptance. With stunning production embedded within his already formidable songwriting, Montgomery displays a maturity that was clearly fostered over the extended time it took him to release his sophomore album. We can only hope Rick stays for a while longer—we’re definitely waiting to hear more from this version of him. Sagun Shrestha

BAD SON Curtis Waters

To hear Nepali being spoken in a Western album was something I never thought I would experience—it felt like a surreal punch to the gut (in a good way) the first time I listened to BAD SON by Curtis Waters. The album expands on the themes Waters first established in his debut album Pity Party (2020), which introduced strained familial ties, anger at the system, and mental health issues as central motifs of his overall work. Waters explores these topics more intimately on BAD SON by examining his own immigrant experience. “INNER CHILD” and “BAD SON,” the album’s respective opening and closing tracks, are bookends that encapsulate his deepest thoughts and feelings in his personal narrative. Waters lays out his fears, doubts, qualms, and everything in between, unapologetically baring himself to the world. In some ways, the tracks on BAD SON read like pages in a diary, with Waters including conversations with his parents in Nepali, and his worries about the family he’s left behind. It’s a sentiment many first-generation immigrants likely share, making the songs hit that much harder. On “INNER CHILD,” those conversations blend into the background under the cover of synth notes reminiscent of childlike wonder, contrasted by lyrics that serve as a harsh reminder of the cold realities of growing up. Still, in some ways the hushed cacophony of sounds does feel like home because it’s never truly quiet in a Nepali household, always hearing the quiet murmurs of my family milling around. I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so represented in an album, which makes sense considering how niche the references Waters makes are. Who else is going to mention momo, a traditional Nepali dumpling, if not another Nepali person? It’s a brave move to make an album with such a specific sound and such specific details, but Waters manages to make it work, aided in part by fantastic features who perfectly fit into the songs they’ve been invited on. R&B singer-songwriter chlothegod’s impressive presence dominates the funky-fresh “RIOT” while the lesser-known TINOO perfectly blends into the cultivated tranquility of “PEACE AND QUIET.” Though the overall mood of the album is pretty somber, we’re also provided a reprieve from the gloominess through “HIMBO” for when we’re “tired of being sad.” To juxtapose the serious social commentary in songs like “STAR KILLER” and “MANIC MAN” with the later cheeky sexual innuendos in “PETTY” and “BUNNY” is another bold choice, but there has to be something to break up the solemnity, especially as Waters recognizes his claim to fame is from unserious music. Still, he’s able to explore the introspective direction he wanted to take in standout track “AMERICAN DREAM,” which definitely deserves to be titled in all-caps, as he screams about growing up to be what he believes is a bad son. It’s a gut-wrenching moment and brings to light all the insecurities he couldn’t hide away, even though he was boasting about being a himbo not too long ago. No one sound or style of writing perfectly encompasses BAD SON—it’s a little messy and experimental, but it’s in this chaos that Waters’s voice shines through, making it all the more personal. Sagun Shrestha

Did You Know that there’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard Lana Del Rey

I was unsurprised when Spotify Wrapped told me that I was a top 0.05% listener of Lana Del Rey this year (yes, really), and I have her eighth studio album Did You Know that There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard to thank for this. It is as bold and unique as the length of the title suggests and was the entry point into my newfound obsession with this musical mastermind. While it exudes the trademark feeling of melancholic beauty Lana has come to be known for, DYKTTATUOB signaled a monumental shift in her discography as her first distinctly personal album. The opening track, “The Grants,” boldly counters the criticism that Lana presents herself as a caricature of “Americana” ideals, emphasizing her acknowledgment and pride in her legal name, Elizabeth “Lizzie” Grant. She muses on the importance of family, singing in the final verse “My sister’s first-born child […] My grandmother’s last smile […] It’s a beautiful life/ Remember that too, for me.” These lyrics are both deeply personal and deeply moving; it’s a bold move by any artist to be so open, let alone Lana. From here, the sound of the album mimics the experience of traveling through the titular tunnel—starting off with strong and spirited ballads (“DYKTTATUOB,” “Sweet”), moving towards darkness as she recalls her processing of difficult life events (“Kintsugi,” “Fingertips”), and finally uplifting to optimism and hope (“Let The Light In,” “Margaret”). Fan favorite “Peppers,” the penultimate song, is a high-tempo, feel-yourself (dance?) track—almost comically different to the prior sounds—that feels emblematic of exiting the tunnel. Yet I cannot write this review without mentioning possibly my favorite track of all time – the fourth song on the album – “A&W”. It was recently named the number one song of 2023 by The Guardian, Pitchfork and NME, and if you listen to it, you’ll see why. With a runtime of 7 minutes, be prepared for a turning point two-thirds of the way through that rivals the likes of Bohemian Rhapsody, with lyrics that will stick so deep in your subconscious brain you wake up chanting “Jimmy Jimmy Coco Puff Jimmy Jimmy Ride.” To end the album, “Taco Truck x VB” remixes the mammoth 9-minute song “Venice Bitch” from her fifth album, Norman Fucking Rockwell!—a move that had many fans nervous that this could be Lana’s final studio album for a while given the echoing final words are “signing off bang bang kiss kiss.” It’s not hard to see why many support this view: DYKTTATUOB is a testament to the timelessness of her discography, a victory tour that showcases the best of her sounds. Aspects of every prior album, like Ultraviolence’s rock ballads and Norman Fucking Rockwell!’s piano notes and hypnotic electronic beats are woven throughout the record. Taylor Swift (correctly) tweeted that this album is “just extraordinary” and that Lana Del Rey is “the best that we have”—if you don’t believe my opinions, trust hers!

 (In case this album leaves you wanting more, my favorite Lana album of the moment is 2013’s Ultraviolence – I highly recommend. Favorite songs are “Shades of Cool” or “Black Beauty.”) Gabriel Mendoza

The Age of Pleasure Janelle Monáe

Janelle Monáe’s senior album, The Age of Pleasure, solidifies exactly what we already know about her from their past projects: Monáe is a visionary, a perfectionist, and a trailblazer in the realm of contemporary music. At its core, Pleasure is an escape to a world of Monáe’s own making—an erotic, impassioned ode to sexual joy and liberation. Flooded with transitions so smooth they make you question which track you’re actually listening to, the album flows beyond seamlessly while also incorporating features from stars like Doechii, Grace Jones, Amaarae, and more. “Float” opens the album with brazen, paradisiacal horns and Afrofuturistic synths that complement exuberant lyrics like, “She throwin’ that thang in a circle,” and, “My face card don’t come with a limit.” The track flows fluidly into “Champagne Shit,” an opulent celebration of prioritizing yourself and your pleasure. It’s followed by—you guessed it!—another squeaky clean shift into the next song, “Black Sugar Beach.” Other highlights of the record like “Haute” and “Water Slide” showcase Monáe’s ability to make even the most solemn, sober individual feel like the baddest b*tch in the room. In its entirety, The Age of Pleasure is an unapologetic homage to loving yourself, sexual gratification, and the lushness of being alive. Rather than narrating a story, the true essence of the album lies in its ability to create a ‘haute’ and ‘phenomenal’ environment—an environment where you’re not just an observer but an active participant in boundless joy and self-expression. Tyler Salensky

0.1 flaws and all wave to earth

2023 might go down as wave to earth’s breakthrough year. With the release of 0.1 flaws and all and a subsequent sold-out tour, the Korea-based indie rock band made waves around the world this year. Separated into disc 1 and disc 2, the album stays true to the mellow and melodic style that characterizes the band’s small but mighty discography while simultaneously exploring darker, experimental sounds that signal an expansion in their creative range. A collection of coffee shop bops that each have their own sparkle, disc 1 invites the listener onto a soothing musical journey. Standout track “bad” might be the Asian American indie kid song of the year, with the heartwarming chorus, “How could my day be bad when I’m with you?” taking TikTok by storm. wave to earth certainly has a knack for penning delicately affectionate lyrics: on “peach eyes,” a simple but incredibly catchy tune that has become a personal favorite, they hum, “You’ll be my sunlight, how could I not rely / On you.” As a series of musings on love and the happiness it brings to life, it’s no wonder disc 1 ends on the aptly titled “love.” One of the band’s few Korean tracks, the song features strong, yearning vocals from lead singer Daniel Kim and a gorgeous guitar riff, both of which build in power as the tune progresses, elevating its feeling of reminiscence and affection. On the other hand, disc 2 is an inquiry into the darker side of love, alluding to heavier themes of heartbreak and loss. “homesick” is a reflection on the emptiness of losing one’s sense of direction and the crushing ache for home, with Kim’s vocals holding raw cracks of emotion and a drum-guitar accompaniment that packs a punch. It’s an exemplar of the band’s ability to showcase versatility while maintaining their signature sound. This is truly a no-skip album with crystal-clean production and a cohesive yet unique and dynamic sound. Despite its name, 0.1 flaws and all is undeniably flawless. Eileen Chen

Something To Give Each Other Troye Sivan

It’s impossible to sit still when listening to Troye Sivan’s latest album, Something To Give Each Other (2023). From the initial pulsating drumbeats of album opener “Rush,” STGEO implores listeners to get up and dance, preferably in an extremely loud, crowded, and sweaty environment. The album is a concise but evocative ode to the sense of release that comes with dancing freely among friends, crushes, and maybe even exes, and captures this exhilarating feeling in a tight half-an-hour runtime—a remarkable feat in today’s era of seemingly endless, streaming-optimized tracklists. But don’t get it twisted: the short length is not indicative of a lack of substance. In fact, STGEO traverses wide-ranging emotional and sonic terrain, and could be interpreted as a concept album whose songs collectively soundtrack the stages of a long night at the club (not unlike Lorde’s Melodrama [2017]). Sure, there’s the intoxication of a new love interest (embodied by high-energy, synth-driven tracks like “Rush” and “Got Me Started”), but there’s also the pangs of sadness that come with, say, an encounter with an ex who “said hello like an old colleague.” Sivan recounts that harrowing experience on the downtempo “Still Got It,” which echoes the understated yet poignant lyricism of his earlier-career ballads. Backed by melancholy organ drones and wailing electric guitars, “Still Got It” captures a quiet moment, a window into Sivan’s inner monologue as he peers into the club’s bathroom mirror. But by the album’s next track, he’s dried his eyes, headed back into the crowd, and embraced the catharsis of the collective mosh. Maanasi Chintamani

JAGUAR II Victoria Monet

A star over a decade in the making, Victoria Monet is a true embodiment of her debut studio album’s titular animal. Over the past ten years, the singer has stayed out of the spotlight while creeping her way through the industry, building a name for herself mainly through her songwriting expertise. So, while this is by no means her first musical project, it is fitting that her first studio album JAGUAR II was the perfect vehicle to give Monet her long-awaited moment in the spotlight. It’s a sleek project that boasts an impressive assortment of genres spanning across the globe and through the decades. From the 70s glamor of “Hollywood” (complete with a funky feature from Earth, Wind, & Fire) to the sensual dancehall rhythms of “Party Girls,” the album’s effortless fusion of her sonic influences with contemporary R&B gives Monet an edge over her peers that can no longer be ignored. Gliding through it all is her silky smooth voice, imbuing the project with themes of confidence and self-assuredness (look no further than the feel-good hit “On My Mama”). Now that Monet has rounded out 2023 with a breakthrough album, a glamorous tour, and recognition from the Recording Academy, it’s hard to believe the jaguar was ever relegated to the role of the underdog. Adora Adeyemi

GUTS Olivia Rodrigo

After Rodrigo’s breakout debut album SOUR (2021) propelled her into stardom, the natural question on everyone’s minds was, “What’s Next?” Two years later, as she began to tease her comeback, all eyes focused on the young starlet to see how she would reinvent herself for a new era. After all, that’s simply what popstars do. But Rodrigo rejected the industry’s expectations of reinvention and opted for something more honest. By building on SOUR’s themes with an evolved sound and pen, GUTS crafted a true and refreshing coming-of-age narrative. While SOUR emerged from the mind of a teenage girl reeling from the catalyst event of heartbreak, her follow-up features a young woman navigating the general growing pains that accompany adolescence. In true Gen-Z fashion, she pulls from the past for inspiration—in these tracks you can hear Avril Lavigne’s sneering pop-punk attitude, Fiona Apple’s theatrical ballads led by an off-kilter piano, Blink-182’s raging switches between acoustic and electric guitars. But though one could assume her Y2K sonic influences cater this project to older audiences, as Rodrigo’s age-mate I find comfort in its relatable chaos. It’s an album that reminds you that you’re not the only person who believes one bad interaction ruins your social life (“ballad of a homeschooled girl”) or who fights the urge to tear down the posters of all the unattainable images of beauty on your walls (“pretty isn’t pretty”). Although Rodrigo usually internalizes her anguish like the rest of us, on GUTS she’s brave enough to let it out (quite literally with a long, high-pitched scream on “all-american bitch”). Sharp lyrics are set against backing tracks interwoven with precise pop production, playful rock riffs, and tender acoustic moments—her cinematic soundscape reflecting the jarring range of emotions within her. She evokes tear-jerking sincerity one second then uses self-aware sarcasm to poke fun at that same earnestness in the next. To expose oneself like this takes real guts—and for almost 40 minutes, Rodrigo spills them all, opening a can of worms filled with the things you’re not supposed to admit at this age (but she does anyway). Adora Adeyemi

Desire, I Want To Turn Into You Caroline Polachek

One might expect an album released on Valentine’s Day to embrace themes of love, passion, and devotion to a significant other. But as much as it dances with romance, Caroline Polachek’s sophomore album Desire, I Want to Turn Into You feels more like an exaltation of freedom from the monotony of domestic life. Despite more than fifteen years of experience as a recording artist, the alt-pop singer-songwriter has never before broken into the mainstream, her style deemed too experimental to draw in a wider audience. Desire has very much proved that assertion wrong, as Polachek’s innovative approach to pop music brought the album critical acclaim. Permeating every track are silky-smooth synths layered over beats that evade rhythmic predictability. Combined with Polachek’s heavenly voice seemingly reaching notes and pitches otherwise humanly impossible, this approach gives all twelve tracks an ethereal, almost otherworldly quality. Listening to Desire is a religious experience—its soothing yet dissident harmonies drown out the ambient noise of life and carry you elsewhere. Even more impressive is how Polachek builds upon her cohesive sound to differentiate each track. On “Sunset,” Latin influences are woven in through a flamenco-style guitar riff and soft claps, evoking the ambience of a Barcelona street corner at dusk. “Blood and Butter” features a resonant bongo-esque drum beat combined with a bagpipe, producing a fascinating tropical-northern fusion. Even the album cover art, depicting Polachek on the subway crawling through sand towards a paradise unseen by the other commuters, serves as the perfect visual introduction to this work’s themes—because pressing play on this album provides an escape from this world, even if that escape is only sonic. Zachary Warren

Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds) Yves Tumor

A blood-curdling scream. Heaving breaths, eerily rhythmic. Yves Tumor’s rock-forward fifth album Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds) begins in a dark place: on opening track “God Is a Circle,” they muse, “there’s places in my mind that I can’t go, / there’s people in my life I still don’t know.”—a suspicion that courses through the album. While worship—whether of a god, a pop star, or a romantic partner—pulls us outside of ourselves, Tumor still grapples with the dependence it creates. On “Echolalia,” a heavy, bass-driven track oozing with the uncertainty of new love, Tumor worries, “If you say you love me and you, like, your happiness only depends on me, it might not be true love.” The agonizing, precarious transcendence of worship that constitutes the bulk of the album’s lyrical concerns creates both tremendous anxiety and unparalleled release, which Tumor captures beautifully; each track is gorgeously arranged to culminate in truly massive, anthemic moments, with forceful drums and reverb-soaked guitars shining throughout. Tumor’s nasal drawl tempers the spaces between these triumphant peaks, making each equally satisfying. Praise a Lord reaches dizzying heights, and it’s a testament to Tumor’s daring (but utterly meticulous) approach to music. Isabel Shepherd

The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess Chappell Roan

Chappell Roan has undeniable star power. Dan Nigro, her producer and one of the masterminds behind iconic albums like SOUR, GUTS, and Superache, had so much faith in her that he launched his own recording imprint to support her projects after her former label dropped her. That star power is front and center in every single song on her debut album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, making it an attention-grabbing hit. Together, Roan and Nigro composed one of the most balanced and cohesive albums released this year. Heartbreak ballads like “Coffee” and “Kaleidoscope” add texture to the lineup of club-ready powerhouses like “HOT TO GO!” and “Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl,” giving listeners so much to chew on. Roan’s uniquely powerful belt and gorgeous airy falsetto draw in crowds, but it’s her lyrics that keep listeners captivated and pressing play again and again. She is unafraid to be simultaneously playful and intelligent, with memorable lines like “I want this like a cigarette / Can we drag it out and never quit?” and “I heard you like magic / I’ve got a wand and a rabbit” scratching that itch in your brain. Throughout the album, Roan also examines different facets of queerness; “Picture You,” displays sensual desire while the dance anthem “Pink Pony Club” is an amalgamation of love and acceptance, and “Kaleidoscope” devotes itself to the all-too-well-understood experience of falling in love with a straight friend. On Rise and Fall, Roan establishes herself as an unstoppable pop force—one more bold, fun, and queer than we have ever seen before. — Francesca Theofilou

Calico Ryan Beatty

Beatty’s third solo album is a swift and simple masterpiece. In a welcome deviation from the indie-pop influences that saturated his 2018 debut Boy in Jeans, this tender, acoustic record sees Beatty embracing a more mellow musicality, spotlighting his buttery vocals and poignant lyrics. A crash course in immersive storytelling, to listen to this record is to reminisce on life’s perplexing bittersweetness. Rather than establishing firm boundaries between the good, the bad, and the ugly in hopes of sidestepping any potential for cognitive dissonance and destabilizing panic, within these nine tracks, Beatty encourages us to embrace complex feelings as a source of life’s beautiful texture. Just as joy is possible amidst indescribable anguish, sometimes a waterfall of melancholia can wash over you without clear cause; both emotional responses, though surprising and confusing in the moment, are natural—all we can do is surrender ourselves to them. “Cinnamon Bread” is one track that explores emotional confusion in the context of a strained love affair. Gentle, sugary guitar strums feel sonically equivalent to memories of dappled sunlight peeking through a sea of verdant, early August leaves. It’s a song tailor-made for driving through a suburbia awash in the golden glow of a late summer afternoon; though Beatty’s lover might be cold, this song radiates warmth. “Bruises Off the Peach” emits a similar glow, depicting the bliss that can come from phasing out what is no longer conducive to your personal flourishing. When Beatty sings “I cut all the bruises off the peach, not as beautiful, but still as sweet,” the listener experiences catharsis right alongside him. Similarly, “White Teeth” depicts the cleansing effects of an “old summer rain” with Beatty singing “I walk until I’m new.” Deeply emotive, brilliantly written, and beautifully sung, Calico is a passionate, yet easy-going, listen I am confident I will be replaying for years to come. Hailey Wharram

Zachary Warren
Zach is the Halftime Leisure Editor and a junior in the College majoring in Government and History. He likes horror movies, board games, and if you see him late at night, he might do a little jig for you.

Maya Kominsky
Maya is the Leisure Executive and a senior in the College majoring in American Studies. She took two years to write a bio and this is the best she could come up with.

Tyler Salensky
Online Executive for The Georgetown Voice

Eileen Chen
Eileen is the Halftime Leisure Editor and a sophomore in the College studying political economy. She likes dirty chai lattes, pretty flowers, and making playlists for every minor inconvenience.

Maanasi Chintamani
Maanasi is a senior in the College studying history and biology. In addition to being the Voice’s copy chief, she writes for Leisure. Her three defining qualities (in no particular order) are her love of “Promiscuous” by Nelly Furtado, her undying loyalty to the New England Patriots, and her penchant for procrastination.

Adora Adeyemi
Adora is a Contributing Editor at The Georgetown Voice. She loves to watch television, go to the movies, listen to music, and be annoying about it.

Isabel Shepherd
Isabel is a senior in the college studying sociology, English, and art history. She loves trying new hobbies, but she isn’t very good at keeping them.

Francesca Theofilou
Francesca is a senior in the School of Nursing, and a Halftime Leisure assistant for The Voice. She has been described by friends as a "jester," and has a love for the 2005 Mousercise CD.

Hailey Wharram
Hailey is a senior from Richmond, Virginia studying English, journalism, and film and media studies in the College of Arts and Sciences. When she isn’t writing for The Voice, she loves songwriting, reading, scrupulously updating her Letterboxd profile, and romanticizing her life one Spotify playlist at a time.

More: , ,

Read More

Notify of

Inline Feedbacks
View all comments