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When it comes to posthumous albums, it’s wise to be cynical. Too often, hastily compiled collections of unfinished demos or songs the artists themselves deemed unfit for release end up in the public sphere, as record labels and family estates rush to cash in on the grief of fans.
In some cases, though, an artist dies right before the record is released, leaving us to unpack what turned out to be their swansong. In others, a dedicated group of trusted friends, family and former collaborators work together to create something fitting for that musician’s legacy.
Alt-pop pioneer Sophie’s posthumous, self-titled work was almost finished when she died, aged 34, in 2021. The album’s loose ends were tidied up by her brother and closest collaborator, Benny Long, resulting in a brilliant experimental pop record spiked with trance and techno.
In honour of Sophie, here are 15 of the best posthumous albums of all time.
15. Songwriter – Johnny Cash
“Hello out there, this is planet Earth,” Johnny Cash sings into a blinking cosmos of bright piano keys and shimmering hi-hat, on the surprising, wonderful 2024 record, Songwriter. When the country legend recorded the demos that would eventually end up on this album, in Nashville in 1993, he had no idea that he would end up working with producer Rick Rubin, a collaboration that breathed life into his flailing career.
Those demos, based on songs Cash had written over the past three decades, sat forgotten in the years after his death until his son, John Carter Cash, found them in 2023. With the help of some of his father’s former bandmates, he replaced the more dated arrangements with classic country instrumentation: wails of slide guitar, elegant filigrees of piano and sedate percussion.
The Vietnam war-referencing “Drive On” seems to touch on Cash’s feelings about his career, as he reminds himself to be thankful for what he’s got: “Drive on, it don’t mean nothin’/ My children love me, and they understand/ And I got a woman who knows her man.” “I Love U Tonite” is a playful and romantic ode to June Carter Cash. A tender and moving collection from the Man in Black. Roisin O’Connor
14. Sophie – Sophie
Sophie’s self-titled posthumous album was released nearly four years on from her accidental death in Athens. The visionary pop pioneer was 34 when she died, a Grammy nominee teetering on the mainstream thanks to her work with Madonna, Charli XCX, and Vince Staples.
According to her label, the album was almost finished when she died – any loose ends have been tied up by her brother and closest collaborator Benny Long. It’s a sprawling album of 16 tracks, many of which move away from her more abrasive, clashing aesthetics in favour of cleaner dancefloor pop.
Of course, Sophie being Sophie, it’s experimental pop spiked with heady amounts of trance and techno as on “Do You Wanna Be Alive” and “Elegance”. SOPHIE is the first and last posthumous album, her brother has said. This is a parting gift for old fans to savour – and new fans to discover. Annabel Nugent
13. The Shining – J Dilla
From his hospital bed, his mum apparently massaging his aching hands, Detroit-born rapper J Dilla worked on what would be the first of several posthumous albums, while being treated for complications brought on by the blood disorder thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura (TTP) and a form of lupus.
The Shining serves less as a cohesive body of work and more as a testament to Dilla’s versatility as an artist. Finished and mastered after his death in 2006, aged 32, it includes the woozy “E=MC2”, with Common rapping sharply over a sludgy bass line and shuffling beats. Dilla’s ear for a hook is evident on the psychedelic “Body Movin’” and dreamlike “So Far to Go”, the latter starring D’Angelo’s honeyed tones.
Each track seems tailor-made for Dilla’s guest stars, from the elaborate, orchestral arrangement of “Love” that backs Pharoahe Monch’s cerebral flow: “Open your heart I’m sure you’ll find a way to truly get this/ To cure a man from all his disease and from all his sickness.” It’s easy to imagine the gospel influences and hopeful prayers were as much for him as the listener. ROC
12. Originals – Prince
There have been three posthumously released Prince albums since his death in 2016, not including compilations and reissues. The best of them is Originals, a collection of songs written and recorded between the early Eighties to the early Nineties, which were first given by Prince to other artists.
“Manic Monday” – offered by Prince to The Bangles under the pseudonym “Christopher”, the name of his character in the 1986 movie Under the Cherry Moon – is endearingly complacent compared to the pop group’s version (he was perhaps less knowledgeable about the 9-5 grind). “Baby, You’re a Trip” outguns Jill Jones’s take thanks to his soul-melting falsetto and seductive guitar licks.
“Nothing Compares 2 U”, the torch song that turned the late Irish artist Sinéad O’Connor into an international star, closes the album with its sparse, superb arrangement. Prince allows subtle tremors into his voice as he delivers those opening lyrics, seemingly exhausted and broken-hearted. Comparison to O’Connor’s version is pointless – each artist made this song their own. ROC
11. Yeaaah Baby – Big Pun
Why is it that Christopher “Big Pun” Rios is so often marginalised in debates about hip-hop’s GOAT? Perhaps it has something to do with his death – the Bronx rapper’s demise from a heart attack and respiratory failure, aged 28, was no less tragic than Biggie and Tupac Shakur. Perhaps it lacked the myth-making violence of his Nineties peers, but there is also the matter of his output: Capital Punishment, Pun’s 1998 opus, was the only record he released during his lifetime besides a slew of (often spectacular) guest appearances.
Yeaaah Baby (2000), the follow-up, didn’t come out until two months after his death. It’s spottier and more eclectic than Capital Punishment, but frequently and compellingly brilliant: Pun’s rapping here is dense, forceful, and features of some of the most intricate multi-syllabic rhymes ever committed to record. The beats evoke a heady and slightly dated mix of genres, from R&B to Latin music, but Pun’s rich, punchy voice binds it into something cohesive. Louis Chilton
10. Circles – Mac Miller
Pittsburgh rapper Mac Miller was working on a companion record to his critically adored, Grammy-nominated 2018 album Swimming when he died from an accidental overdose, aged 26. Completed with the help of producer Jon Brion and released with his family’s blessing in 2020,Circles showed the artist at the height of his creative powers, and seemingly on a quest to reach a state of balance.
In what proved to be his last interview, Miller spoke of how “the beauty is in being able to be in both places” – good and bad, peace and chaos. That explains the to-and-fro nature of the album, from the waltzing piano of “That’s On Me” to the cyclical “Good News” . It’s like sitting on a rocking horse that topples you gently into the next song. On Swimming, Miller was adrift, searching for self-acceptance. Circles sounds like he could have found it, even if just for a moment. ROC
9. The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory – Makaveli / Tupac
Recorded in just three days, The Don Killuminati served as the third and final release of Tupac Shakur’s Death Row contract, which he signed while in prison (the “seven days” referred to how Pac laid down his vocals in three days, while mixing took another four).
Critics have argued that TDK – released under the artist name Makaveli – is Tupac’s personal statement, in contrast to his acclaimed fourth record, 1996’s All Eyez On Me, which represented Death Row and the West Coast. Now his eye was fixed firmly on asserting himself as the king of hip-hop, not just his own territory.
It explains the opening salvo on “Bomb First”, as he spits, over a sly-sounding keys motif: “Money-making plans, pistol close at hand, swollen pockets/ Let me introduce the topic, then we drop it/ Expose snakes ’cause they breed freely/ See me ride! Located worldwide like the art of graffiti…/ Extreme venom, no mercy when we all up in ’em/ Cut ’em down, to hell is where we send ’em.”
TDK dropped less than two months after Pac’s murder, fuelling conspiracy theories that he might have faked his own death (the sleeve copy included the words, “Exit 2Pac, Enter Makaveli”). For many fans, AEOM was the greater album, but TDK offered a tantalising close-up of the rapper’s soul, as he stated on closer “Against All Odds”, this was “the realest s*** I ever wrote… the truest s*** I ever spoke.” ROC
8. Pearl – Janis Joplin
More polished than any of Janis Joplin’s previous releases, 1971’s Pearl still crackles with energy thanks to the might of her unmistakable voice, and the chemistry between the Full Tilt Boogie Band.
The Texan tearaway’s cover of “Cry Baby” is a throat-shedding masterpiece, while her sweet country stylings of Kris Kristofferson’s “Me and Bobby McGee” would help her achieve her first and only No 1 single. On the gospel-influenced “Half Moon” you have a funk groove on the electric guitar and the clatter and clamour of the piano.
There’s a bitter truth to be heard on “A Woman Left Lonely” – on the night of her death from an accidental heroin overdose, Joplin was said to be disappointed by two friends who had bailed on their plans to hang out at the Landmark Motor Hotel in Hollywood. “A woman left lonely will soon grow tired of waiting,” she sings, “She’ll do crazy things, yeah, on lonely occasions.” These songs, and Joplin’s voice, leave an imprint on the soul. ROC
7. MTV Unplugged – Nirvana
Released seven months after frontman Kurt Cobain took his own life, Nirvana; Unplugged topped the album in seven countries and won a Grammy for Best Alternative Music Album. One of the greatest live recordings ever made, it has grown a near-mythical status due to the belief by many that it was Cobain’s version of a suicide note.
The stage was set with candles, lilies and a crystal chandelier, at Cobain’s suggestion. “You mean like a funeral?” producer Alex Coletti recalled asking. “Exactly,” Cobain replied. “Like a funeral.” In footage, he looks weary, almost on the verge of tears, as he strums along to “About a Girl” (he cheated on the “Unplugged” segment by running his acoustic guitar through pedals and an amp disguised as a monitor).
But there’s no denying the magnetism of the performance. Cobain’s take on David Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World” remains one of the greatest covers of all time, laying bare the anguish in the original lyrics. The setlist, presented to MTV without any room for negotiation, featured just one hit, “Come As You Are”, for which Cobain sang in a strangled yelp. On “The Man Who Sold the World”, his voice is a rough, slanting drawl – emotionally tense and full of grit. “Polly” is extraordinary, subdued and backed by the sombre glide of the cello and eerie harmonies from drummer Dave Grohl, lit cigarette in hand. ROC
6. Preludes – Warren Zevon
After being diagnosed with cancer in 2002, rock maverick Warren Zevon wrestled through a relapse and declining health to record The Wind, a poignant and profound farewell album that came out just two weeks before his death in 2003. There was, however, more to come, and the 2007 album Preludes: Rare and Unreleased Recordings was an invaluable gift from beyond the grave.
Painstakingly compiled by the artist’s son Jordan from an archive of hundreds of old recordings, Preludes features demos, interviews, and unreleased recordings, including six early songs that had never been heard before.
On the potent album opener “Empty Hearted Town”, a graceful ode to LA loneliness, Zevon sings: “Cigarettes make the sun come up / Whiskey makes the sun go down / And in between / We do a lot of standing around.” They might lack the polish of a full studio recording but the songwriting here is classic Zevon – mordant, humanistic and dryly funny. LC
5. From a Basement on a Hill – Elliott Smith
There are sad songs and then there are Elliott Smith songs, which are near-suffocating in their misery. This is no more true than on From a Basement on a Hill, the artist’s sixth solo album released almost a year to the day since his suicide, in 2004.
The majority of the record’s 15 tracks are said to have been finished by Smith before his death, perhaps explaining why, unlike many posthumous releases, it sounds like a complete work. It also bears the undeniable weight of what came next: “I’m through trying now, it’s a big relief,” sings Smith on “The Last Hour”.
It’s far from the only lyrical reference to the musician seeking out oblivion. Sonically, the album continues in the tradition of Smith’s lovely folk-pop – beatific harmonies and unearthly, stacked vocals. But there is a new plainness here, lo-fi arrangements that foster an atmosphere of isolation. AN
4. First Rays of the New Sun – Jimi Hendrix
Posthumous Jimi Hendrix albums are a dime a dozen. After the guitar legend died in September 1970, his management, record company and past collaborators scrambled to release seemingly anything and everything he had recorded – often yielding dubious results. It was only when the musician’s estate set up the Experience Hendrix label that some proper consideration was heeded in forthcoming releases.
The foremost of these is arguably the first. Featuring hits like “Ezy Ryder” and “Angel”, 1997’s First Rays of the New Sun is the best (and closest) attempt at reconstructing the album that Hendrix had been working on when he died. The venture had reunited Hendrix with bandmates Billy Cox, Mitch Mitchell, and producer Eddie Kramer – though none could predict exactly what songs from the huge mass of material Hendrix left behind that he would’ve selected for the record, hence why it was released as a compilation album as opposed to a studio album.
Nonetheless, First Rays of the New Sun is a cohesive and good-faith effort at doing right by the late guitarist. The material here is mainly rooted in blues rock, but there are moments of experimentation as on the highlight “Angel” and “Drifting” where Hendrix strays from formula to stunning effect. AN
3. Dreaming of You – Selena
When José Behar, founder of EMI Latin, signed Selena and her family band, Los Dinos, in 1989, he did so on the condition that they would release an English-language album. That album, titled Dreaming of You, would become the Tejano superstar’s last. Released in July 1995, months after the 23-year-old was shot and killed by the president of her fan club, it became the first majority Spanish-language album to debut at the top of the Billboard 200.
Selena’s signature mariachi and cumbia sounds are in abundance here, but the album also sees her venture further into pop and R&B – the genres du jour thanks to the success of Mary J Blige and Janet Jackson. Dreaming of You not only showed off Selena’s superb skill for experimentation, but also her prophetic ear; the dancehall-infused “Techno Cumbia” helped sow the seeds of today’s reggaeton phenomenon. An unfinished masterpiece, Dreaming of You paved the way for Latin American artists to come. AN
2. Closer – Joy Division
There’s a brutality to Joy Division’s second album. Opener “Atrocity Exhibition” is laden with snarling guitars; the drum beat is like a heralding call, luring the listener deeper into its dark jungle. Frontman Ian Curtis moans and howls like a wounded beast: “This is the way, step inside.”
Released two months after Curtis’s suicide, aged 23, the album one-upped the paranoia and claustrophobia of 1979’s Unknown Pleasures. The bass on “Isolation” chugs along beneath spiky, erratic synths; “Heart and Soul” is ominous and jittery, like the manic rolling of eyeballs. You can almost feel the chill in the air – producer Martin Hannett turned the heating down in the studio until the band could see their breath.
Closer, the title of which implies a sinister double meaning, successfully intertwines the minimal and the ornate. The band have never been as glum as they are on “The Eternal”, a funereal procession with Curtis at the centre, singing as if from behind a shroud: “Stood by the gate at the foot of the garden/ Watching them pass like clouds in the sky.” “A Means to an End”, meanwhile, is a dark disco anthem, a skeleton’s dance. ROC
1. Life After Death – Notorious BIG
Released 16 days after Biggie’s murder, Life After Death opens where his first album, 1994’s Ready to Die, ended. The narrator lies in a hospital bed, dying from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, while his best friend (played by since-disgraced label boss Sean “Diddy” Combs), struggles to accept his demise: “We were supposed to rule the world, baby… this s*** can’t be over.”
Over the double album’s sprawling 24 tracks, the artist born Christopher Wallace deftly demonstrates his storytelling prowess. The devil’s in the details, he evidently knew, and so his characters are spotted in a “cherry M3” or “marine blue 6 coupe”. The sound effects – pouring rain, a woman screaming, a baby crying, gunshots – are as good as you’d hear in a Scorsese flick.
Then there’s the sheer range of the thing, from the blood-soaked noir of “Somebody’s Gotta Die” to the euphoric bounce on the brag-filled “Hypnotize”. There are lively skits that interrupt “Kick in the Door”, which features a superb looping sample by DJ Premier of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ spooky “I Put a Spell on You” – the macabre mingling with the machiavellian. Though he never lived to see it, Life After Death immortalised Biggie as the man behind one of the greatest hip-hop records of all time. ROC
