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The staff of Mother Jones is, once again, rounding up the heroes and monsters of the past year. Importantly, this is a completely non-exhaustive and subjective list, giving our reporters a chance to write about something that brought joy or discontent. Enjoy.
I have always thought the music-for-charity genre was irredeemably corny. “We Are the World”? Far from “the greatest gift of all”—sorry! Band Aid’s, “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” I hope they don’t know it’s Christmastime at all, because I’m returning this gift. Let’s not even get into that hauntingly bad celebrity cover of “Imagine” from the darkest days of March 2020.
Music for charity is, often, just bad. And it can read as patronizing, frivolous, and a useless effort by out-of-touch celebrities who could help needy masses a lot more by giving money directly to everyone as opposed to donating a song.
But this year, two different albums were different. In 2024, the Charity Compilation was good.
Transa, a Red Hot release from November, is a four-hour, hundred-artist behemoth. Often heavy on the ambient, you should expect tons of reverb, harp, and flute. At its core, the record isn’t so much about being transgender as it is about loving trans people. Sade’s standout hymn to her trans son, “Young Lion,” distills that spirit. (So do the samplers from the New York City Trans Oral History Project included on the album, as does André 3000’s 26-minute instrumental track, with the unwieldy title, “Something Is Happening and I May Not Fully Understand But I’m Happy to Stand for the Understanding.”)
Producer Dust Reid and artist and activist Massima Bell started developing the album in 2021. Since then, things for trans folks in America have gone from bad to worse. Twenty-six states have passed bans on gender-affirming care for young people. Adults are rationing hormones, and some are rushing through legal name and sex changes before President-elect Donald Trump comes to power again. Just last week, a provision banning gender-affirming care for the children of military families passed as part of the National Defense Authorization Act, which caused a friend to text me, baffled, “What does that even have to do with defense?”
It would be naive to suggest that music can do much to solve anti-trans law or even really counteract the reactionary wave we’re now caught up in. Transa won’t stop America from throwing people under the bus. But here’s the reason it’s important: This is good music. And good music matters. It tells the listener, we survived. We are still here, and we are making something beautiful.
Another mammoth compilation album released this year proves the same point. Cardinals at the Window, a 10-hour Bandcamp exclusive released 12 days after Hurricane Helene devastated Western North Carolina. The record—well over 100 tracks long, with over 100 artists pitching in—admittedly lacks the sonic cohesiveness of Transa. Instead, it sounds like a jam session among old friends meeting up after the storm passes. Thus far, the album has raised over $340,000 for organizations like Holler Harm Reduction and BeLoved Asheville, bringing tangible help to a region too often neglected. (North Carolina is still very much recovering from Helene: Some survivors are turning to yurts and tents for winter housing after their homes were destroyed.)
Other musical aid efforts this year merit a mention, too. From cramped house shows to sold-out arenas, artists have raised money for the people of Gaza and Sudan—often at a cost to their careers. (One surprise: Macklemore, of “Thrift Shop” fame, has reinvented himself as a protest artist.)
I can’t find a non-trite way to write about how music keeps us human when our worlds collapse around us. But I do know that from now on, I will not be disregarding Charity Compilation Albums. These artists aren’t heroes in the sense of saving lives, really, but I think that those who give us little moments of joy and hope in cataclysmic times deserve hero status, too.