Albums with Closing Tracks That Change How You Hear the Record

“Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler)” puts the album’s big opening question next to the pressure of trying to get by. Near the end, the title song’s melody returns in a quieter form. After hearing what comes between those two appearances, the opening sounds less like a greeting and more like a question somebody has to answer.

The poem that accumulates across the album finally comes out whole on “Mortal Man,” leading into a conversation assembled from a recording of Tupac Shakur. Go back to the fragment at the end of “King Kunta” and it sounds like the beginning of a much longer address. The closer changes who you imagine is listening to the words.

“Nearer to Thee” brings back the strings from “A Lot’s Gonna Change” and lets the instrumental arrangement stand on its own. When you return to the opener, it is easier to follow the movement beneath Natalie Mering’s voice. The short closer gives the album a second way to say what its first song was reaching for.

The interlocking parts of “Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On)” set the album moving. “The Overload” keeps the insistence of a repeated pattern but slows the feel to a crawl. Go back to the opening after that and the repetition sounds capable of unsettling you as much as it can make you dance.

“Geyser” builds toward an outburst. “Two Slow Dancers” gives its older couple a little time together at a reunion and knows it will end. The change in pace makes it easier to hear how much longing sits beneath the album’s quicker songs. Even the bright pulse of “Nobody” can feel different after the last dance.

After the tenderness of “All Night,” “Formation” restores the snap of a beat and the force of a public address. Its confidence changes the scale of what came before it. The intimate repair in “All Night” can stand on its own, while the last track sends the album back into the wider world.

“Drive” opens with a clipped vocal over a tense guitar figure. By the time the album reaches “Find the River,” the acoustic movement and layered voices make setting out sound gentler. Play it after “Nightswimming” and hear how a record so interested in looking back manages to end in motion.

The medley seems to have delivered its big farewell with “The End” when the tiny acoustic “Her Majesty” appears after a pause. The song was unlisted on the original sleeve. Its timing lets the grand ending stand for a moment before giving the record a small, funny afterthought.

The album finds several ways to let light in, from the patient build of “Slow Burn” to the dance-floor pulse of “High Horse.” “Rainbow” ends with a voice and piano at the center. Its plain reassurance makes the pleasures elsewhere on the record feel like things the singer worked to notice.

The opening “Mysterons” keeps you at a distance with its eerie high notes and measured beat. “Glory Box” keeps the slow pulse but gives Beth Gibbons room to put her desire into words as the guitar grows louder. It makes the earlier reserve feel like part of the album’s argument about what a voice will give away.

“I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” lets its words and sounds get in each other’s way. On “Reservations,” Jeff Tweedy can finally make a plain statement about one person, and the instruments keep going softly after he stops singing. The spare ending makes the earlier noise sound more like trouble finding the words.

An astronaut’s voice gives way to drums, a rising synth, and a long surge of noise on “Contact.” Earlier, “Giorgio by Moroder” also moves from speech into a performance, but its speaker is looking back. The last track takes that same idea somewhere much less settled.

“Cashout” opens the record’s run of songs with a scene of people being pushed out of their homes. The closing “Argument” turns the attention to the way people talk themselves into fighting, with a quieter guitar setting that makes the words hard to miss. It gives the anger elsewhere on the record a question to sit with.

“Plainsong” opens with a wash of sound big enough to make the voice feel far away. “Untitled” ends the record with a smaller keyboard figure and a voice caught up in regret. The contrast makes the scale of the opening feel like one way of holding a feeling at a distance.

“I Want You to Love Me” opens with a piano figure and a direct appeal to another person. “On I Go” ends the album with a repeated line whose stresses keep changing against the percussion. Hearing the two together makes the opener sound like the start of a long argument about what it takes to move under your own power.

“Big Exit” opens in a rush of guitar with the feeling that there’s somewhere you need to get to. On the standard 12-track edition, “We Float” gives the rhythm more room and eases into a refrain that can stay in place. The last song makes a little suspension feel like something the rest of the album had to earn.