Here’s to 2011 – the Best Albums of the Year
So 2011 wasn’t like 2010, when Titus Andronicus worked its way inside my head and wouldn’t leave and LCD Soundsystem continued to be, by a number of measurements, the best band in the world. And it wasn’t like 2009, when Japandroids and Pains of Being Pure at Heart and Telekinesis exploded into the world and Dan Boeckner and Spencer Krug released their finest moments (so far) respectively, as Handsome Furs and Sunset Rubdown. Instead, 2011 had a different kind of satisfaction – mostly steadily great bands releasing solid records, up and down the list. There are notable exceptions (Weekend, Big Troubles, Cloud Nothings), but for the most part, music in 2011 seemed to me a bit like comfort food – nothing to challenge you too much, but it never lets you down.
With that said – here’s Part 1 of Song-o-Matic’s end of year list:
Seam: The Problem With Me (favorite albums of all time, pt. 12)
When I broke up with my girlfriend in 1995 and fell in love with someone else, I needed a soundtrack for driving around late at night feeling elated/sorry for myself/whatever. Because it’s downbeat and beautiful and lonely, but still driving and melodic, that void was filled by Seam’s Am I Driving You Crazy, but that’s not my favorite Seam album. That title belongs to The Problem With Me, about which, I have often thought to myself, “I don’t understand how anyone could not like this album.” Read More…
Titus Andronicus: The Monitor (favorite albums of all time, pt. 11)
Although I’m not under any misapprehension that Arcade Fire winning a Grammy for best album will change anything at all in the music world at large (look here for proof), I’m still happy for them. It’s nice! It’s nice when good things happen to good musicians. Unless you happen to feel that Eminem has been criminally overlooked for his string of fabulously-selling and generally well-reviewed albums which have afforded him the ability to live a life not often afforded to trashy douchebag assholes, then it’s hard not to feel like it’s a nice thing that the Grammys stepped outside of their comfort zone of aging rock star MOR and current chart hip-hop and R&B (which, you have to admit, are pretty strange bedfellows).
No, I’m happy for Arcade Fire (and for Merge Records), even if the Grammys were, even in their most cutting-edge choice in years, still about six years behind, considering that Funeral is and probably will always be the best thing Arcade Fire has ever released. The larger problem, if it could be called that, is that the best album of last year (and actually, of any year since 2006) wasn’t even on the Grammys’ radar (hint: they don’t have any radar). Read More…
The Afghan Whigs: Gentlemen (favorite albums of all time pt. 10)
(I’m counting down (or up – I’m not sure yet) my favorite albums of all time. I’m not sure how long this will take or how often I’ll write one. But this is Part 10. Other posts are linked here.)
Greg Dulli recently released his fifth album as The Twilight Singers. Since the dissolution of the Afghan Whigs, he’s also released a solo album and several collaborative albums/EPs with Mark Lanegan as the Gutter Twins. These songs and albums are, as a rule, incredibly consistent for someone who’s well into their third decade of writing and recording music – I mean, have you heard No Line on the Horizon? It’s an impressive feat that the quality of his music has never really wavered.
However, the other thing it seems we can conclude about Greg Dulli at this point is that he, like most (all?) songwriters, has a limited number of tricks up his sleeve. I’d wager that a casual fan, listening to the entire Twilight Singers discography on random, would be hard pressed to figure out which songs belonged where – they’re all of a piece, which in a way makes their quality even more incredible. But while I was listening to The Afghan Whigs’ Gentlemen this morning, it occurred to me that Dulli’s musical career really can be divided into two distinct eras – pre- and post-Black Love. Read More…
Built to Spill: Perfect From Now On/Keep it Like a Secret (Favorite Albums of All Time, pt. 8)
If I’m forced to choose my favorite Built to Spill record, I like Perfect From Now On a little better than Keep it Like a Secret. But this is my website! You can’t make me choose, and so for this edition of my favorite albums of all time ™, I decide to treat these two records as one.
What’s a little odd to me about these records is how much better they are than the albums that come both before and after them (sorry, TNWWL enthusiasts, but that record doesn’t hold a candle to either of these. Fact.). It’s not like Doug Martsch has lost his touch – each of the three records that follow Keep it Like a Secret are completely listenable with moments of greatness, and generally they become a bit better with age – I’ve gone back to each of them after a period of months and/or years and upgraded them considerably in my estimation.
But. These two records are easily the pinnacle and complete statement of what Built to Spill is capable of – constantly shifting, energetic, inventive guitar rock. It’s a genre that really shouldn’t have anything new to say, even in the mid-90s, but for 18 songs, Doug Martsch disproves that admirably, with a perfect combination of 3-minute pop songs, 8-minute slow burns, and just enough guitar heroics to give him something to build on when he wants to do a 20-minute live version of “Broken Chairs” or whatever.
I also kind of forget how perfect these albums are until, well, every time I put them on. So I’m rectifying that now – putting them forever in their proper place in my personal pantheon (alliteration!) of the best records I’ve ever heard. And to commemorate that, a taste of each:
Built to Spill: “I Would Hurt A Fly” (from Perfect From Now On)
Built to Spill: “Center Of The Universe” (from Keep it Like a Secret)
cjkc best of 2010: Lali Puna
Well done 2010. You reminded me how very deep my ethereal blood flows.
#1 – Lali Puna: Our Inventions
I knew Our Inventions would top my 2010 list the instant I first heard it. This is an absolute masterpiece of sounds and melody, dreamy vocals and gentle, inventive percussion. The timing and sampling on each track is brilliant. The sequencing is perfect. Valerie Trebeljahr’s vocals are thin and alluring. There is not one second where I’m anything but entirely enthralled. It has provided me months of new surprises . . . another discovered noise, a blip, an off beat, or sigh that takes my breath away. Now over five years since Faking the Books, this new release has given my ears more than I could have hoped for in all of 2010. Lali Puna, I worship you, and your captivating, carefully crafted art.
#2 – Beach House: Teen Dream
Meeting Teen Dream late in 2010 has sustained me through the lulls of year-end new releases. Just entering track one, with the opening soft-yet-still-driving guitar line, I knew I’d be hooked. But then! Then came Ms Legrand. . . Oh Victoria, and your wonderfully deep, commanding vocals. Plus synth work, fantastic drum bits, genius backup vocal additions of ooohs and awwwes that make my heart want to burst. I don’t wonder at all why this album stayed on repeat for weeks, and in fact might hold my favorite song of the year: “Take Care.”
#3 – Thieves Like Us: Again and Again
Thieves Like Us totally know how to work a classic 80s sound, and prove with Again and Again why it’s still a fresh and worth-revisiting style. This album could have become a mess with the many electric pieces going at once, but instead is weighty and full, and generous with pensive emotion. Here again, true artistry proves that many ingredients can blend to give massive life and flavor.
#4 – Blonde Redhead: Penny Sparkle
I will admit, I was surprised by Penny Sparkle, and it’s kind of dumb for a girl like me to be that way, because on my softer side, I know about patience. This 2010 has reminded me just how much I’ve missed new beloved ethereal sounds in recent years. The kind of music that washes over you like a dream, offering earned energy in the process as opposed to quick jolts of pop, rock, electronica highs.
#5 – Broken Bells: Broken Bells
Broken Bells was the first new music to get me very excited this year. I listened to the NPR stream and fell more and more in love with every succeeding track, playing the stream straight through for something like 3 days in a row. I’m glad that Brian Burton is so genius and chose to work with James Mercer in making this album for me. Did anyone else see them play live on Ellen? The vocal variation at the end of “The High Road” absolutely blew me away. youtube it!
#6 – The National: High Violet
This one might have ranked higher on my list if I’d not been so infatuated with my first 5 all year. As it stands, I’m still swimming into the first few listens of High Violet. I know it will have staying power, even though there is melancholy there that keeps me cautious. I like to stay in the shallow end of this pool, as my tendency is to get swept away, and I’d rather temper my sad songs these days. I mean, he is evil, afraid he’ll eat your brains, you know?
#7 – Crystal Castles: Crystal Castles II
I guess I understand why some people can’t get into Crystal Castles. They are tough. Raw and dirty, sometimes so harsh it makes me want to punch someone in the mouth. I’d say this new album is the perfect follow-up to their freshman self-titled album. We still get Alice’s thrash-punk vocal effects, but then celestica and suffocation have her sounding oh so lovely. If only I could see her live . . . with Robert Smith. . .
#8 – Wild Nothing: Gemini
I don’t know why this is my hardest review. So much brooding for me in this album. I’m not fascinated with it like Lali Puna and Thieves Like Us. It doesn’t make me happy like Two Door Cinema Club, or riotous like Crystal Castles. It’s not sad as The National, but there is something so deceptively somber in Gemini. I think maybe it just makes me feel vulnerable. Whatever it is that I can’t quite put my finger on, this album does for classic 90s sound what Thieves Like Us is doing for the 80s.
#9 – Two Door Cinema Club: Tourist History
Hands down the funnest album of the year. No patience necessary on this one. Front to back up-beat pop goodness. Sugar in a syringe type stuff. Fast strumming. Hands clapping. Double time vocals. Drums that make you want to be sneaky and do something irresponsible. My playcount on some of these tracks hit the 30s in no time (and that’s not counting ipod plays.) If this album doesn’t make you happy, you might be dead inside.
#10 – The Radio Dept: Clinging to a Scheme
And here we are. Number ten was a hard fought slot. In many ways The Radio Dept shares this rank with Mr Kurosky and Arcade Fire. In the end, though, I give Clinging to a Scheme the nudge because where those lower two are expected awesome, The Radio Dept is brand new to me this year, and “Memory Loss” is one of my absolute favorite songs of the year with its hollow vocals and sparse percussion. Love the masculine side of dreamy vocalists.
very honorable mentions:
miles kurosky – the desert of shallow effects
arcade fire – the suburbs
broken social scene – forgiveness rock record
minus the bear – omni
school of seven bells – disconnect from desire
lcd soundsystem – this is happening
vampire weekend – contra
surfer blood – astro coast
los campasinos! – romance is boring
***cjkc 2010 digi-mix super deluxe double edition coming TOMORROW!***
Some more of my favorite albums, or, Welcome to Obvioustown
(I’m counting down (or up – I’m not sure yet) my favorite albums of all time. I’m not sure how long this will take or how often I’ll write one. But this is Part 7. Other posts are linked here.)
So I realized that in making my best records of all time list, I’ve been gravitating towards albums that, although not critical pariahs or anything, are close to my heart, but somewhat off the beaten path. In part I’m sure that’s because I find them more interesting to write about personally, but it occurred to me that there are several albums that I should probably mention briefly and get out of the way, not because they’re inferior to the ones I’ve already included on my list (except in cases where they rank lower numerically, duh), but because probably everything that can ever be written about them has already been written, and I’m certainly not going to try and one-up Sasha Frere-Jones or whatever. Read More…
Plastic Mastery: In the Fall of Unearthly Angels (My Favorite Albums of all Time, Pt. 6)
(I’m counting down (or up – I’m not sure yet) my favorite albums of all time. I’m not sure how long this will take or how often I’ll write one. But this is Part 6. Other posts are linked here.)
Today’s entry into the hallowed list (ahem) of my favorite albums of all time would also top a list of the most underrated albums of all time, although that list would also probably be very boring to everyone except me. The backdrop – I’m driving along Orange Avenue in Orlando, probably going to or coming from the hospital, and I’m listening to the local college radio station, and a song comes on that I love and have never heard. Originally, I think that it sounds a little like Portastatic, and I wonder if they have a new record coming out, which is a nice thought.
However, when the song is over, the DJ doesn’t say who it was, so I call the station when I get to the parking lot of the hospital (aha – that is where I was going) and ask what the song was. They tell me Plastic Mastery – “Before the Fall,” and I write it down somewhere so I won’t forget. Then I go to the record store and I find a copy of the album and buy it, and… there are a couple things that can happen when you buy an album from which you’ve only heard one song. Read More…
Explosions in the Sky: The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place (My Favorite Albums of All Time, Pt. 5)
I didn’t think this album belonged on this list till yesterday, when I was driving to the airport and put it on, at which point I realized a couple of things. 1) “The Only Moment We Were Alone” might be my favorite song of all time. 2) When I get a new album I really love, I frequently kill it over a period of 2-3 weeks – I’ll think about listening to something, anything else, but just can’t see the point. With The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place, I realized that I’ve been sort of portioning it out to myself over a period of years, so as to not blunt its impact. I’ve never overlistened to it, and it’s been intentional – I play it once every three or four months, and then I put it away again.
The odd thing about this is that I’m not a huge fan of either instrumental music or post-rock in general. Middle-period Mogwai is ok (Rock Action and Happy Songs for Happy People, most notably), but generally I need slightly shorter running times and/or more hooks per capita than long-form instrumental rock music generally bestows. And even within the catalog of Explosions in the Sky, this record is the only one that really does it for me – the first one is ok, the second one a little better, the most recent one less so… but man. This record.
And why? Well, the title is informally a little longer than it first appears, and that’s sort of the key to what I love about it. I own it on vinyl, and on the otherwise blank fourth side is etched several doves and the inscription: “The earth is not a cold dead place because you are listening because you are breathing.” Instrumental rock of this stripe is good at grandeur and pomp, but less often at resolution and satisfaction. This record is unique for me in that it sounds like life. And hope. And love. If I’m going to apply adjectives to it, they’re less about the sounds and more about the feelings the sounds evoke: it’s hopeful and disconcerting and depressing and uplifting. It’s EITS trying to package the amazing experience of being alive into rock music, and getting pretty damn close to doing it.
Portastatic: Slow Note from a Sinking Ship (My Favorite Albums of all Time, Pt. 4)
(I’m counting down (or up – I’m not sure yet) my favorite albums of all time. I’m not sure how long this will take or how often I’ll write one. But this is Part 4. Other posts are linked here.)
I mentioned the other day that this would make it to this list, so this is sort of just a formality, but also… along with Prince, Portastatic is the band that I most credit for whatever musical talent or drive I have. Since I was very young, I loved the romantic ideal (in my eyes, anyway) of one person creating a piece of music. I’ve been in bands and I’ve loved the experience, but with my own songs, I always felt hemmed in by other musicians – not by their talent, which is usually greater than mine, but just by their mere presence, their tendency to play things differently than I would. By having to think about what they might want or like, or whether they’re bored of practicing that song (or if they even like it), or whatever.
And so I like it best when it’s just me and guitars and drums and Pro Tools, and I can make whatever I want at whatever pace I want. I love Superchunk, but when I heard of Portastatic, which was, for the first couple albums, mostly just Mac McCaughan and whatever instruments he felt like playing at the time, I finally understood what I wanted to do musically. And so I realize that this album probably has far more resonance for me than it does for most of the rest of the world, but then again, maybe not, because it’s fantastic.
Sonically, it’s a big leap forward from his first full-length Portastatic album - basically, from lo-fi to mid-fi – but the biggest jump is in the songwriting. Where I Hope Your Heart is Not Brittle is tentative and not quite out of the shadow of Superchunk, ...Sinking Ship is assured, flows perfectly, and embraces its lo-fi flourishes. Lyrically, it’s probably the strongest album in McCaughan’s catalog. There are full-band rockers where Mac enlists the help of friends (“A Cunning Latch“), perfect little off-kilter indie pop songs (“Isn’t That the Way“), an exquisite closer in “In the Manner of Anne Frank,” and, of course, the best song that he’s ever written (ok, maybe), “San Andreas.” And that’s that.
