Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

Apocalypse Now's Best Albums of 2015

Scout Tafoya
Viet Cong - LP
Eric Chenaux - Skullsplitter
California X - Nights in the Dark
Torche - Restarter
Kendrick Lamarr - To Pimp a Butterfly
Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Asunder, Sweet and Other Distress
Lower Dens - Escape From Evil
Leon Bridges - Coming Home
Screaming Females - Rose Mountain
Guantanamo Baywatch - Darling...It's Too Late
Hot Chip - Why Make Sense
Kamasi Washington - The Epic
Goatsnake - Black Age Blues
Errors - Lease of Life
Place To Bury Strangers - Transfixitation
The Decemberists - What A Terrible World, What a Beautiful World
The Helio Sequence - The Helio Sequence
Disappears - Irreal
Beach House - Thank Your Lucky Stars
Desaparecidos - Payola




Marissa D'Elia

Donnie Trumpet and the Social Experience - Surf
Pingrove - Everything So Far
Tyler Burkhart - Back Against the Wall
Title Fight - Hyperview
Shannen Moser - You Shouldn't Be Doing That
Hop Along - Painted Shut
Loose Tooth - Easy Easy East
Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp a Butterfly
Asap Rocky - At. Long. Last. A$AP
Drake - If You're Reading This It's Too Late


Desmond Thorne

Vince Staples - Summertime '06
Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp a Butterfly
Alabama Shakes - Sound & Color
Tame Impala - Currents
The Internet - Ego Death
Beach House - Depression Cherry
Panda Bear - Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper
Natalie Prass - Natalie Prass
CHVRCHES - Every Open Eye
Drake - If You're Reading This, It's Too Late


Greg Marchand

Christina Vantzou - No. 3
Cloakroom - Further Out
Ceremony - The L Shaped Man
Baroness - Purple
Joanna Gruesome - Peanut Butter
EZTV - Calling Out
Shlomo - Dark Red
Loma Prieta - Self Portrait
ELO - Jeff Lynne's Electric Light Orchestra
Hollow Sunshine - Bring Gold


Lucas Mangum

AWOL Nation - Run
Muse - Drones
Marilyn Manson - The Pale Emperor
Chvrches - Every Open Eye
John Carpenter - Lost Themes
Imagine Dragons - Smoke and Mirrors
Title Fight - Hyperview
Death Cab for Cutie - Kintsugi
Puscifer - Money Shot
Deafheaven - New Bermuda


Ashley Tryba

Alex G - Beach Music
Blue Smiley - Ok
Courtney Barnett - Sometimes I Sit And Think, Sometimes I Just Sit
Pile - You're Better Than This
Nots - Virgin Mary
Sheer Mag - Il
JEFF The Brotherhood - Global Chakra Rhythms
Amanda X - Hundreds and Thousands
The City & I - Downer
Together Pangea - Phage
Lady Part - Undone


Theodora Blasko

Sufjan Stevens - Carrie & Lowell
Donnie Trumpet & The Social Experiment - Surf
Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp A Butterfly
The Internet - Ego Death
D.R.A.M - Gahdamn!
Kamasi Washington - The Epic
PigPen Theatre Co. - Whole Sun
Justin Bieber - Purpose
PWR BTTM - Ugly Cherries
Viet Cong - LP


Chloe Stewart

A Place to Bury Strangers - Transfixiation
Jesse Malin - New York Before the War
Crocodiles - Boys
Acid - Tales of Contempt
Jesse Malin - Outsiders


Mark Lukenbill
Grimes - Art Angels
Downtown Boys - Full Communism
Jenny Hval - Apocalypse, girl
US Girls - Half Free
All Dogs - Kicking Every Day
Oneohtrix Point Never - Garden of Delete
Holly Herndon - Platform
Bully - Feels Like
Empress Of - Me
Aye Nako - The Blackest Eye
Girlpool - When the World Was Big
Circuit des Yeux - In Plain Speech
Slutever - Almost Famous
Julia Holter - Have You in My Wilderness
Lower Dens - Escape from Evil

Our Bloody Valentine

The real challenge in brit rock, specifically shoegazer music as we've come to call that style of sound painting from the late 80s and early 90s wasn't the second album, but the third. Ride's first album is an established masterpiece; its greatness is public record, so far as I see it. Their second was still great, if less so, because they tried, not without reason to branch out stylistically: be bigger, be louder, be more than they really were. Their third album was their last. Carnival of Light was the band at war with itself. No one much cared to see a band struggling in quite this way. Nor did the members themselves. It was over. Their fourth album came out posthumously. Slowdive got out three albums before realizing their ambitions lay elsewhere, specifically Mojave 3, and eventually to be roped in with Jack Johnson. The Catherine Wheel's third album was where their sound got harsher and they lost some of their early devotees. Chapterhouse's masterful debut gave way to an ugly, confused, and tellingly harsher second album. Then they were done. A third never arrived. My Bloody Valentine's story is familiar to anyone who's ever picked up a copy of spin or magnet. A good first album, a genius second album, then nothing. Twenty years of it. But they didn't break up, like the others. They just stopped. And so the curse was broken, because the world waited for that third album that never came, but seemingly could at any moment.

But now that's over. And here it is. It's not a prank, not a copycat band's imitation, not a bootleg made up of snippets stolen over the years. It's the real thing. It could only be. Kevin Shields is the only guy alive who could have written those chord progressions, as David Bowie said of The Man Who Sold The World. But more to the point, he's the only person with any right playing his guitar like that. That effect's been used in the years since Loveless, that perpetual bending of the bar while strumming, but no one in the world would do it for a whole album, speaker cones giving way to the pressure. Not unless they were in My Bloody Valentine. The rest of the musical world knows that this is sacred ground, not to be trod upon by pretenders. Many people will probably be more surprised that a legion of albums didn't come out in the wake of Kevin Shields expensive career killing, legendary album that attempted to fill the void, however feebly. But everyone knew that Shields and Co. were the only ones allowed to sound like this. 

So what does M B V actually sound like, other than utterly like the band playing it. In short: it's very good, but not quite good enough. Isn't Anything was very clearly the band finding its songwriting and production style and sort of hitting it hard. It's minimal, brash and prickly. Not quite industrial, not quite pop. The genre hadn't really arrived, thus they were essentially experimental, even if in the somewhat safe confines of rock. Isn't Anything is the sound of a band very aggressively finding its feet. When they discovered that they could do much more they did and nearly got lost in the process, Loveless was Kevin Sheilds painting a carefully considered masterpiece. It very nearly became his Magnificent Ambersons. But Loveless is a record to study, to fall in love with; you bathe in Loveless. If it leaves you cold, it's going to, but it works not merely as music, but a document of music itself and the possibilities afforded a musician unafraid to try everything. If rock music weren't still the house around Shields, he might be living under a bridge in Dublin, or collaborating with Yoko Ono doing residencies at whatever MOMA's within a stone's throw. It's a boldly anarchic record, finding melody in entire cities of sound. No one else has had the balls to do anything like it. 

In the bands evolution, M B V makes perfect sense. They first discovered their sound, then perfected it, and here they take it to a number of different extremes. In other terms: they mixed the paint, they painted a masterpiece, and now they're coloring outside the lines. I don't think anyone expected the band to make Loveless 2; those who did are the kind of people who thought Chinese Democracy was going to outdo Use Your Illusion. Their sound here is perfectly fine, expected, even, but only if they'd released it on time.  If M B V is a disappointment it's because it's only the Carnival of Light of My Bloody Valentine's development and not the record we all wished they'd been perfecting since 1993. The songcraft is most assuredly still the best of Shields, but without the sense of discovery, of a dystopian soundscape pouring out of headphones or car speakers, it sounds far too ordinary. Too tame. Loveless doesn't seem real, like it should have been given to us. M B V only makes sense. By the time "new you" arrives, and it's just a song, even a very catchy and pretty one, it feels like a comedown. Shields can build worlds so why should he be content building houses? The beats and riffs he chooses to punish in the album's last act are exciting and interesting, but not nuanced enough to warrant this much attention from him. It feels like there ought to be more. More layers, more harmony, more texture. But frankly we didn't have this record for twenty years, so what's a few rough spots?

Which brings me to this: My Bloody Valentine are impervious to criticism. I'm as interested in music criticism as I am in music itself these days (or more, I'm as infuriated and beguiled by modern music criticism as I am entertained or captivated by most new albums) and what I'm anticipating now is the reaction. What will this mean to the band that no longer means anything tangible. They're legends now. Everyone in the world is preparing a review for this record, probably as I write this one. You'll hear people talking, they'll post it on facebook or twitter or tumblr. And that's just the point: Everyone's going to think they've discovered its meaning, or they'll feign indifference, or they'll simply say it's good or bad. But none of that will matter. A bad review won't diminish concert attendance because people want to say they were there. They saw My Bloody Valentine in concert. It's a right of passage. I would have paid Coachella prices to see Rage Against The Machine by themselves back in 2007; that LCD Soundsystem, Arcade Fire, The Decemberists, Interpol, Rufus Wainwright, and The Good, The Bad & The Queen were also playing was (admittedly insane, untouchable, unforgettable, some of the best concerts I've ever seen) silver lining next to that badge of honor. I foresee the album getting B+'s and A-'s by most reasonable, read music publications and I also know it won't make an iota of fucking difference. I want to see what this album, which is really more of an event, like a Tarantino film or a Pynchon novel, will become. It will be consumed. So what I want to know was: how does a reputation like that affect the making of an album like this? 

Blur keep trying and failing to make new music, I think largely in part because they don't think see the point in adding to their stellar back catalog. How do you sound like yourself when you've all changed so much? My Bloody Valentine haven't exactly been busy since Loveless, so that begs the question: how organic was M B V? Was this the album that they felt they had to make? Or was this just what happened when they picked up their guitars again? Had Shields been saving all these ideas in a diary somewhere, waiting for the day he got his band in the same room again? It seems doubtful, doesn't it? But then, who's to say? We've been sitting around building them up every new week that an album hasn't come out. All they had to do was release an album, any album and it would become part of their legend. It had an entry on their wikipedia page before anyone had any real proof that the album existed. Myth moves at the speed of thought today. But were they aware of that? My Bloody Valentine were in the museum of modern art in our collective unconscious for so long that it might be too late to change the plaque beneath them reading "indefinite hiatus. Third album forthcoming but don't hold your fucking breath." Will this album or anything they ever do, bring them to life again? Do they even want it to? Can't give bad notices to something that, to shamelessly quote the band themselves, isn't anything at all. You can't converse with legends. To me, it still feels like they're more an idea or a memory than a band again. I suspect I'll always somewhere still be used to the idea that they're gone and beyond reproach or comment. They're still a myth. Nevermind that they're four people who just made an album (which actually isn't a bad review of the record, either. Four people making an art rock album. Very good stuff). They've ensured their legacy, but they'll always be encased in amber because of it, even if they deafen people after today. And I suspect they'll always be someone willing to go deaf for My Bloody Valentine. 

The Best Records of 2012

Dan Khan

1) Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend!
2) Beach House - Bloom
3) Grizzly Bear - Shields
4) Four Tet- Pink
5) Jack White - Blunderbuss
6) The Helio Sequence - Negotiations
7) The Walkmen - Heaven
8) John Frusciante - PBX Funicular Intaglio Zone
9) David Byrne & St. Vincent - Love This Giant
10) Leonard Cohen - Old Ideas
11) Rufus Wainwright - Out of the Game
12) Metric - Synthetica
13) Ty Segall - Twins
14) Sleigh Bells - Reign of Terror
15) Sigur Rós - Valtari


Scout

1. School of Seven Bells - Ghostory

        - Maybe there were better albums this year, but none that burrow into my soul and sit there, forcing me to feel things I don't always want to. Their music can, at its best, pull emotions out of your lowest depths. This is their most complete album and can feel like it lasts for days and days.

2. Father John Misty - Fear Fun
     
        - Whatever name he chooses, he's still one of our best songwriters, and this is a bigger canvas for him to paint on, so his voice gets to roam, his guitars get to play dress-up, and we get to enjoy the beautiful, haunting, unforgettable show again and again and again. I've listened to this maybe a hundred times this year and I'm still not sick of it.

3. Patrick Watson - Adventures In Your Own Backyard
        - I can't even imagine how much time he spent on each of these songs. What a fucking brain on the guy! You get lost in the gorgeousness of his songs and this album is especially bountiful. 

4. Beak> - >>

5. Crocodiles - Endless Flowers

6. Godspeed You! Black Emperor - 'Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend!

7. Grizzly Bear - Shields

8. The Ty Segall Band - Slaughter House
        - Hearing any of Ty's albums is like discovering Rock music all over/for the first time/whatever. He's a mad genius and his lab is constantly exploding. Ty made three albums this year and I just like this one best. That second song, holy shit. This album is like watching an artist 'slash his canvas' to coin a phrase. 

9. The K-Holes - Dismania

10. Bahamas - Power Chords
        - I call having loved him first. Afie must be having the time of his life right now and he absolutely should be. He's so good at this, he was born to do this, so I'm glad people noticed.

11. Disappears - Pre Language

12. David Byrne & St. Vincent - Love This Giant

13.   Chromatics - Kill For Love

14. We Avalanche - Time Travels
       - Like Elliott Smith doing Lomax. They're going to get huge, these fellows. They play music in the vein of a lot incredibly popular bands, but they put so much care into the texture and nuance of every moment, while others are content to just play the song. They have the precision of scientists which doesn't diminish from the awesome force they use to shred. 

15. Screaming Females - Ugly
        - All my heroes are getting huge. Soon I'm not gonna have anyone left to myself. Which is almost sad. 

16. Tindersticks - The Something Rain
        - Their best album as a band. Such a great way to spend a rainy night. 

17. Rocket Juice & The Moon - Rocket Juice & The Moon


18. Guillemots - Hello Land!

19. Rufus Wainwright - Out of the Game

20. Moonface - With Siinai: Heartbreaking Bravery


Fox Johnson 
(I could annotate, but I like the minimalist format chosen - Ed.)






















Look Out Hollywood....

Compulsive listmaker that I am, I keep a running tab on the best releases of the year, every year. I hear something good, it goes on there. My thinking is that if I write it down, I'll have more time to live with the albums and sort out my feelings about them by the time I have to share the list with you fine people. Though, it must be said that occasionally something gets a touch more consideration than anything else. When I found out that Chromatics had put their latest, the moody Kill For Love, on Soundcloud, that was all I listened to for several days. When one day my friend Joe Montone sent me a text asking what I thought of Father John Misty, it set off a chain of events, the latest of which is this post and which won't conclude until well after the first of May. Not only had I not listened to it, I had no idea what it was. Which made me feel rather silly because it was only the nom de plume of J. Tillman, the man whose music litters my film I Need You and who provides one fourth of the harmony voices of Fleet Foxes as well as playing their drums. He'd quit the band with the promise of new music, but how was I supposed to know that he'd be this quick about starting his third life? The album promised by the little I could find to read on the subject suggested something bigger and more open than his beautiful, sparse early efforts. Something that dripped with the ethos of its California spawning location. No familiar names in the liner notes, no familiar notes in the music. I was intrigued, if unnecessarily. The man could cough into a mic with the flu and I'd pay twice what it was worth to hear it. So when the promo showed up at Siren the other day, I threw it on so fast everyone's goddamn head spun.
 I played it twice in a row and then left it there. I talked it up with my friend/co-worker Ash, who, it should be said, is maybe the most picky human being alive when it comes to music. She digs old folk, blues and country, but draws lines even there that I often strain to fathom. She hears the new releases week after week of new artists yet only seems to enjoy the band Pontiak. I recommend music sparingly; I've been burned before. So it wasn't lightly that I offered the incredibly light seeming: "You might not hate it." The following afternoon I was at home when she asked me over the phone who this guy was. "He seems very nice from what little interaction we've had." "There are references to ethnobotany all over this record." I came in to the store to hear her namecheck somethings I recognized but couldn't put any meaning to, but evidently he was speaking her language. She caught the namechecking of Joseph Campbell, Cosmic Serpent, Ayahuasca, and heard what she thought might be references to Daniel Pinchbeck. She's an aspiring ethnobotanist and as such seemed to hear things in this album that I wouldn't. I caught his musical influences and all the references to the post-60s view of Hollywood, when they finally sat about discussing what they had just started to call the Golden Age. To me, the songs have the second-hand smoke of Jim/Brian Jones, Charlie Manson, Sharon Tate and Bob Rafelson about them. She heard something else entirely, but we'd both heard it loud and clear. That is the mark of a great work of art.
When I heard the opening minute and a half of School of Seven Bells' Ghostory I called it the best album of the year, half-jokingly, but half-seriously because I could tell that they'd filled out their sound in a way that was logical given the . By one minute twenty one seconds it had been dethroned by Fear Fun by Father John Misty. The first song encapsulates the whole album pretty squarely, but it doesn't quite give you the whole picture. Listen to "Funtimes in Babylon" and you'll know that all of Fear Fun, due on the first of May, is unpretentious, just as expansive and gorgeous as he's ever been (though the mud covered forest floors and mist-shrouded barren landscapes of his earlier efforts have been replaced with flourishing farms and hills so green they're almost golden), and rounded out by orchestration that runs into every corner of the space, making sure that his voice is backed at every turn as if laying on a sea of hands carrying him from one end of a concert hall to another. Of course, what it doesn't tell you is how fun the record is in the meantime. You'll miss the hallucinogenic Van Morrison vibe of "I'm Writing A Novel," the honky-tonk revivalist pop of "Tee Pees 1-12," the acidic slow-burning waves of "This is Sally Hatchet" which features the greatest instrumental closing of any song this year (and that includes "Rodent" by Pharoah Overlord, but just barely). The album's influences are borderless, but also exactly late 60s California on the nose. It's a little overwhelming at first, but that feeling goes away when you realize how perfectly considered every song is, independently and in the context of the album. Tillman comes across as both disheveled truth-seeker, small before creation and ever eager to have his mind expanded and bed-hopping wise-ass lucky but not precisely grateful about not having been killed by his lifestyle. I'm not sure which I like better. The man with the shit-eating grin wearing a full beard and yesterday's clothes at the banquet gives us "Only Son of the Ladies Man" and "Well, You Can Do It Without Me," and truly sets the record apart from the first five Tillman records. But the man frightened and humbled by not understanding his place in the universe is the one whose voice goes to the most stirring and resonant places, as on "Now I'm Learning To Love The War," and stunning album closer "Everyman Needs A Companion," which is the most confessional song on a very personal record, and features maybe my favourite lyric he's ever sung: "I got hung up on Religion, though I know it's a waste. I Never Liked The Name Joshua. I Got Tired of J." How do you not fall in love with a crisis so identifiable which is yet the definition of exclusive? Everyone has to live with their name; you can change it, but who are you trying to convince ultimately? Tillman has thus explained the reason for his new moniker and closed out a completely shattering collection of sun-dried chamber pop right where we started, but infinitely better off. He still stands tiny in the face of the mysteries of the universe, every blade of grass, folk song and drunken evening a new universe to be contemplated, but we've got this record, and that, as he well knows, will last forever.

Best albums of 2011

Sorry for the delay, but we've all been a touch busy.

Tim!

Paul Simon - So Beautiful or So What

The man is 70 but after about twenty years of relatively sedated albums Paul Simon's newest entry is strangely rejuvenating. He brings back his African and Latin American influences for a subtle complicated sound that simmers beneath his insightful, touching, and often hilarious lyrics.

Tyler, The Creator - Goblin

This album is seriously sick. It's disgusting. I was physically overcome with nausea while listening to this album. That's how offensive it is. I haven't been so shocked and revolted by someone's lyrics since I first heard the Marshal Mathers LP when I was 12. And I couldn't be more pleased.

Fox!

Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues
The Decemberists - The King is Dead
Florence + The Machine - Ceremonials
Radiohead - King of Limbs
Coldplay - Mylo Xyloto
Tom Waits - Bad as Me
Danger Mouse - Rome
Robbie Robertson - How to Become Clairvoyant
Cliff Martinez & Various - Drive

Scout!
1. Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues
-Well, what'd you expect. I'm not immune to beautiful harmonies, or sundrenched folk/country mixed with indie sensibilities. They might as well be recording these things just for me. I love Fleet Foxes. I think their compositions show a growth and ambition that outstrips even the "can you believe how easy we make this sound?" effortless gorgeousness of their debut. The first time I listened to this all the way through I saw an epic, a tragedy, the spanish civil war rendered in sonic brushstrokes. Maybe I'm the crest of a wave in an immeasurable tide by putting this at the top of my list, but I cannot refuse that this album had the deepest effect on me this year.

2. The Horrors - Skying
-Maturity means something when you talk about The Horrors. Listen to their debut album and EP and see five goths looking to spook the squares with their aggressively loud swamp punk. One album later and they'd accrued a sound that made perfect sense given the influences that occasionally broke through the impish twelve bar blues and yet represented a massive amount of growth. With their third album, they've expanded that sound to something with enough hills and valleys that you can lose yourself for days. Ride, Jesus & Mary Chain, Stone Roses, Sisters of Mercy, My Bloody Valentine, sure, yeah, but there's an optimism that escaped those bands. Maybe because they know they're just getting started. I realized not too long ago that whenever I can't think of what to listen to, I just put on Skying. After the thousandth time, you think I'd be even a little bored. Don't ask me, I'm just a fan.

3. TV On The Radio - Nine Types of Light
-I hesitate to make so much of this band's legacy about the death of multi-instrumentalist Gerard Smith, because while this record is a tribute to his contributions to the group's ever-evolving sound, it's also a celebration of not only his, but all of the band member's love of life. The most upbeat and beautiful of their albums to date, Nine Types of Light feels the most like a band playing in the same room. Whereas before they were architects building worlds together or chemists experiment with the DNA of post-punk and rock-and-roll, this album found them at their most relaxed. They've always been a kind of hive-mind, as evidenced by their trademark vocal blending, which here is more about support than mixing. Tunde and Kyp sing for each other, rather than as one voice, each given the breadth and space needed to showcase the resplendency of each man's range. And all the while Dave, Jaleel and Gerard split their time between crafting the usual tapestries of sound, but also just grooving. This was the band as we've never heard them, the same but different. Their sound may change forever; if so Nine Types of Light was as enlightening a closure to this part of their lives as anyone could ask for and will always be a testament to the five blinding talents that this band houses.

4. Wye Oak - Civilian
-If I ever meet the two people who create the boundless, ecstatic rock music on each Wye Oak album, I have to first apologize for stealing one of their songs in my zombie film (I've made 70 cents so far; we can certainly split it, though my cast might be angry). Then I have to thank them for making something new and inspiring out of something so simple. Jenn Wasner's guitar works as a microcosm of the miracle of the band's sound. On "Two Small Deaths," the album's opening track, the tone is threadbare, only increasing in tremolo for the chorus, yet between that and the muffled bass, the plain keyboard hum and light drumming, there's a sound big enough to blanket a city. Wasner's voice by itself is a thing of mysterious beauty, and Andy Stack, her one-man rhythm section keeps up beautifully. They never overdo it, but every song sounds impossibly big. The whole canon of 90s rock was digested to make their sound, but it's given back in the form of an understanding hug. They've taken aggression and angst and softened it to comfort their listeners. The album has its somber passages, but the feeling one is left with is overwhelmingly hopeful, as if Wasner has seen what hurts you most and, as she professes in tragic album closer "doubt," she'd do anything for you if it felt right. An honest and humble rock album that has something deeply warming at the heart of every song.

5. The War on Drugs - Slave Ambient
-I have a weakness for bands with big, friendly sounds. Arcade Fire's oddball debut gave way to an immutable call to action. Broken Social Scene's sexy shyness has since become a clear throated shout, imploring you to feel at all costs. The War On Drugs have the same peaks in them, but their delivery is quiet, brotherly and cool. Each song, whether it's a laid back guitar painting, a slight but charging rocker or an icy wall of noise, has a welcome feeling, like a dozen hands on your shoulder affirming that you've done alright. The sound is effusively pleasant and everyone's on the same page, wrapping each other in their instruments, never letting anyone go it alone. A familial familiarity greets you with each return.

6. Dirty Beaches - Badlands
-My only complaint: I want more. Badlands couldn't serve up enough of Dirty Beaches trademark (in my head) mix of Warholian buzz and old fashioned rock and roll. Like entering an abandoned factory and breaking every window on your way in (Speedway King) Badlands soon gets down to business, playing Link Wray through a hundred year old ham radio. Taking rock arrangements, cutting them with distortion and playing them ad infinitum, Dirty Beaches does for rock what Godard did for genre; cut up it up, show you its insides and then see if his meddling makes you love it any less. A statement, sure, but also one hell of a good time.

7. Psychic Teens - TEEN
runners up: The Psychic Paramount - II/Psychic Babble - My Brother's Ears/My Sister's Eyes
-One of the best parts of editing this blog is that I get to make the rules. So while some people might recuse themselves of reviewing an album made by someone they knew, I get to celebrate them. I take no little pride in saying that I know some of the Psychic Teens and they're all awesome guys. That said, I was a fan first and TEEN is one of the best fusions of styles I've ever heard. Like Joy Division meets Lunes, Psychic have a sound I find irresistable, all reverb and gliding guitar and glorious, glorious feedback. This is dark and sexy as post-punk gets.

8. Radiohead - The King of Limbs
-A friend once said that anyone who doesn't like Radiohead is trying not to like them. Their sound's been picked apart, especially on this record which was born in the age of instant gratification and rabbit-hole style music criticism. What I will say is that after hearing this album, it very suddenly became difficult to listen to their earlier albums. If they were capable of this, why hadn't they always made albums this minimal, yet striking? It's a ludicrous question, because obviously it took years to get them here, but I couldn't be more pleased that they're here. Now if only they'd release a new record a year like the free jazz mavericks they've become. I love Radiohead and won't make excuses about including them on my top 20.

9. Real Estate - Days
-Being a fan of post-punk often makes you easy to please. Like a game of spot-the-reference, I feel happiest when I can put on a new album and hear that the people making it love the same things I do. Sometimes that's enough. Real Estate take the elements I love about The Feelies, The Replacements and R.E.M. and stir them into a shimmering, shining good time. With the layers of a Philip Glass Etude, the four members of Real Estate craft a timeless feel good record that's as relentless in its way as any metal record. The guitar sound here was chosen for a reason and its legacy is assured. By never wavering from their sound, Real Estate are placing themselves daringly in rock history. Let's see what they do next.

10. The Coathangers - Larceny & Old Lace
I like the idea of Riot Grrrl more than I've ever connected with any of its tentpole albums. I was never a girl in the 90s and so I miss out on the politics to a degree and can't see through the sound to the message as clearly as its proponents. An album with all the hallmarks of that sound but whose style is much more about the No-Wavers of the late 70s? Pull up a chair and tell me about yourself. From the first time I heard them, while filming their performance in Siren Records, the Georgia quartet roared their way into my heart. Half saccharine posturing, half dissonant violence (their named after an illegal abortion, after all), The Coathangers would be a tough listen if the hooks weren't so indelible. The fact that they're adorable in spite of themselves helps too. They have it all, really.

11. The Rapture - In The Grace of Your Love
-If this record had nothing but "Blue Bird" it'd still be on here, but it's also got the typical electro funk fusion I love so much about The Rapture. And of course, it's got Luke Jenner's one-of-a-kind voice. Loving The Rapture means loving Jenner's raspy howl first and the band's dark disco sound a distant second. This time around they prove equally adept at rockers as with their usual Parisian salon electro pop, and thank god. If they'd never written "Blue Bird" my life would be less full.

12. Lisa Hannigan - Passenger
-"Home," the name of the first song, would have made a fine album title. The Irish singer-songwriter's sophomore release is the aural equivalent of laying by a fire in a cabin with the love of your life, boundless potential stretched out in front of you. Her compositions are stronger, her arrangements richer, her sound that much more endearing, her voice as warm and sweet as hot cocoa and soft as snow.

13. St. Vincent - Strange Mercy
-Though she has the avant streak of Kate Bush, not to mention the capable voice, Annie Clark's goals are a little different. She's outthinks her rock contemporaries and outplays most of them too, like Thurston Moore doing Philipp Vandre. The hooks occasionally get lost under her dissonant orchestration, but they're there. She's at once more adventurously strange and poppy than on either of her last two records, producing pop gems like "Cruel" and "Cheerleader" and journeys like "Strange Mercy" which meanders through an electronic haze to reach one of her greatest choruses and that's saying something. It was for her that I coined the phrase "Transcendental Pop." She evolves more each time and watching her do so is always important, but the record has joys that even the uninitiated will love.

14. Gauntlet Hair - Gauntlet Hair
-Gauntlet Hair sounds like a demolished apartment building screaming its history in the seven seconds between implosion and full collapse. It shares the lives that have passed through it in abstraction and delivers it in the kind of echo-filled howl you can only hear when you live up the stairs from a passionately argumentative couple. It boils with life and feels loved and hated, angry and content. No other record this year sounded like Gauntlet Hair; rather, the feeling I got listening to it was more of a half-remember conversation, an overheard flirtation, of kids playfully laughing at a public pool. It's the rhythm of life transcribed in crashing symbols and guitar that's stuffed with chorus and reverb.

15. PJ Harvey - Let England Shake
-Again, what could I say that you haven't thought? Harvey's most cinematic and playful release in her life. Like Serge Gainsbourg producing wartime blues, Harvey's found a niche she's never explored, sounding like the kind of thing you'd hear in a tube station during the blitz or at a mod club while David Hemmings tries to solve a murder, but of course much more modern and sexy than that implies.

16. Tom Waits - Bad As Me
-Heart Attack & Vine: The Reckoning.

17. Sonic Youth - Simon Werner A Disparu
-In a cruel twist of fate, an album made for someone else, a movie that most of their fans will never see (indeed that most have never heard of), may wind up being the last Sonic Youth album. If the legendary group doesn't survive the divorce of Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon, most people will believe (through stubbornness or perfectly understandable ignorance) that The Eternal is their final statement. And in a way it is. It's the last album they grew from nothing. Simon Werner was born out of a truly sexy French film of the same name and so the image spawned the sound (though try watching the film and imagining it without SY's involvement. It's impossible), but as a career summing cap, it would stand if it had to. Though it has the simmering rock of their later records, it also draws heavily from the shimmering slinky sounds of Sister, one of their most under-appreciated records. No one says a word the whole time, they let their guitars and drums talk for them, which is how I'll remember them. Not a rock band, but four people in synch, letting their hands guide their conversation and letting beauty rise to the surface, whether by design or by accident. They might shy if you called them artists to their face; Simon Werner is a minor masterpiece. Whether or not it's their last, it's just as brilliant as any in their canon.

18. Dum Dum Girls - Only In Dreams
-Sticky sweet and lovely as sin, like The Ronettes blasted through a jet engine.

19. Chad VanGaalen - Diaper Island
-Chad will always do precisely what he wants to. His sound is unique and lovely and I hope he never changes.
20. Washed Out - Within & Without
-Diaphanous bedroom music that sounds like lovemaking instead of crying, for once.


Honorary - Thai? Dai! - The Heavier Side of the Luk Thung Underground
- A brilliant compilation of Thai psych music from the 70s. Truly amazing sound.

Best Songs of 2011

The Rules: The songs need to have been released this year and not be on any album that makes my best of the year list.

Final Fantasy - Hard to Explain

The internet has become great at facilitating bizarre cover songs. Thanks to blogs trying on Magazine-size scope and ambition, compilations of strange and marginal bands covering the hits they were influenced by has become something of a reliably pleasant surprise every few months. Several of those covers made have the sort of unrelenting pleasantness that make them unforgettable, a kind of pocket of urgency because the band needs to not only justify his inclusion in a Nirvana tribute record, but also justify the whole endeavor. Owen Pallett taking on The Strokes' "Hard to Explain" sounds utterly mad until you listen to it and indeed your glad Stereogum bothered paying tribute to a record that has amounted to a promise delivered broken regarding one of Rock's great unrealized debuts. But between those furiously sawing violins and Pallett's beautiful whine, this song is, to me, even more essential than the original.

Telekinesis - On A Plain

Except knowing that the AV Club adored them I'd no idea who Telekinesis was or why they were deemed important enough to cover one of the most highly regarded modern albums. Now, I don't go around singing the gospel of Nirvana. I'm a casual fan at best and I can only listen to them in waves. Yet something about Telekinesis' straight forward take on one of the band's lesser hits grabbed me in just right the way. It's simplicity is its saving grace, delivering the hook with a little of the band's personality as a filter, and passing it's running time quickly and with a kick.

Dum Dum Girls - September Gurls

It wouldn't be a best songs list around here without something from AV Undercover, the AV Club's great idea-turned-phenomena where they invite bands into their round room to play something from an ever-dwindling list of songs. The highlight this year (narrowly beating out Of Montreal doing "Fell In Love With A Girl," Sloan doing "Cars," The Fruit Bats doing "The Other Woman" and The Decemberists playing "If I Can't Change Your Mind") was definitely the sunglass-clad Dum Dum Girls doing a better job on Big Star's "September Gurls" than Big Star. The icy reverb that the girls seem to keep in massive store serves them splendidly as they harmonize their way through the easy rocker.

The Kills - Future Starts Slow

I wanted to like The Kills' new album more than I did because I'm sick to death of The Dead Weather and want everyone to go back to where they came froml; respectively The Greenhornes, The White Stripes and The Kills. I like those bands better than the sludgy side project they've become mired in. The White Stripes are no more and the Hornes are erratic at best, so I was definitely looking forward to the new Kills album. And I do really like it, but just not enough that it made my top twenty. Some of the group's best material is hidden throughout, including the growling opening number, which "Howls, screams and wails" in just the right way. This is what I want from Allison Mosshart.

The Chemical Brothers - Container Park

The Chemical Brothers joined Daft Punk in that odd section of purgatory labeled Bands Whose Soundtrack Work Kicks The Shit Out Of The Film It Was Composed For when they delivered a vibrant and angry electronic album to support the horrendous actioner Hanna. The film was a mess, a rash of embarassing stylistic choices, horribly earnest performances and cringe-inducing dialogue, but the score came this close to redeeming it. Take the film's unbearably pleased-with-itself action set pieces. In what should have been a thrilling, high-stakes fight scene Hanna and some thugs have it out in a Spanish shipping yard. Instead it barely registers because you everyone can't stop letting us know that they're making a film. The blistering song beneath the fight scene almost saves it. Almost.

Austra - The Beat & The Pulse

Austra's Feel It Break was almost compelling enough to make it on the list and I still love it dearly, for when the former Opera hopeful gets it right, it's a thing of beauty. "The Beat & The Pulse" is a dark wave wet dream, a latex-coated fantasia both old and thrillingly new. And when Katie Stelmanis goes for the full-throated chorus, my spine melts.

Susanne Sundfør - Black Widow

I didn't know anything about Sundfør when Cooper McKim handed me her album The Brothel. After hearing it, I chose not to do any research because the majestic otherness of songs like "Black Widow" might not have the same edge to them. I want to keep a blindspot up in front of her face so that I can continue to be confounded and tempted by her gorgeously warped voice and compositions.

My Morning Jacket - Circuital

After Evil Urges I'm just thankful that Circuital wasn't a goddamn tragedy. Better still, there are great songs on this new record, most notably the rollicking title track which starts as smoke wafting through mirrored halls until it explodes into the kind of rocker I'd come to expect from the hairy southerners captaining the ship known as My Morning Jacket. It's good to have them back, even if it's only for seven awesome minutes.

Radiohead - Staircase/Little By Little [Shed Remix]

As it wouldn't exactly be fair to give two spots to songs by band whose album made my best of the year list, I've decided to split it halfway between their b-sides and gargantuan remix album. There was enough Radiohead to fill a cruise ship this year and though it wasn't all gold...a lot of it was. "Staircase" is my favourite of the non-album tracks and never more entrancing than when they performed it on SNL. And from the Remix album, I like Shed's remix of "Little By Little", maybe the least genius song on the album. To see it given a make-over that me appreciate its original context better was rather exciting.

Feist - Undiscovered First

Feist came this close to nailing the album form this time around, but someone keeps telling her to put those watery jazz numbers in between her soul-scorching rock songs. There are great songs on Metals ("The Bad in Each Other," "Graveyard," "How Come You Never Go There," "A Commotion") and then there's "Undiscovered First," which I'm prepared to say is her best song. Primal, loud, boisterous and catchy, it's everything she's good at, cranked up loud enough to kill someone.

Sondre Lerche - Private Caller

Yes, it's a wafer-thin little pop song, but sometimes that's all I need from Sondre Lerche. He's already given me an album that is a fusion of his best instincts in Phantom Punch, so I can't ask him for another masterpiece and am just thankful for every little gem like "Private Caller". God speed you beautiful Norwegian boy. Your pop songs make me smile.

We Avalanche - Ornette

Admittedly I don't know when this song was actually written, but I'm including it because I heard it for the first time this year and the band's only got one album, so I'm calling it kosher. The three folk shredders of We Avalanche are never more fleet fingered than on this song and Brady Custis' voice soars over the weaving and winding string playing, all deft, brazen and warm.

Devotchka - All The Sand In All The Sea

It's a hundred miles from what their known for, but the echoing, screaming, galloping "All The Sand," the song that properly kickstarts DeVotchka's little loved but pretty great 100 Lovers, is just as heartsick and loveable as their best early material.

The Decemberists - Calamity Song

For the record, no I don't hate or even dislike The King Is Dead, it's just a massive comedown from the nerdgiastic heights of The Hazards of Love. Hazards was a career-defining epic that outdid and expanded on everything they'd ever done. It's probably their best album to date. So no it's that there's anything wrong with The King Is Dead, per se, it just isn't nearly enough after The Hazards of Love. The case in microcosm is "Calamity Song". It's a great little pop song with its guitar sound borrowed from early R.E.M. albums (indeed they even borrowed early R.E.M.'s guitar player to do it) and it's impossible not to hum after you've heard it, but it sounds like it could have been written and recorded at any stage of the band's career. It sounds like it could have been a Tarkio song. Which, when you consider how massive a step The Hazards of Love was after The Crane Wife, is as good as a step backwards. They can do better than this, even if they don't have to. They sound good when they tread water, I just wish they'd tackle giant waves again

Dan Mangan - Post-War Blues

I don't know what you'd call the production on this song, it's definitely its own thing and dozens of artists have adopted the sound before, but I don't know what to call it. Anyway, Mangan's "Post-War Blues" is like a classic Dylan tune supercharged and shot through space. I love its momentum, I love Mangan's voice and how it builds on top of itself.

Coldplay - Hurts like Heaven

I'm not the biggest fan in the world of Coldplay's latest album, but shit can they write a pop song when they care to. "Hurts Like Heaven" is what I've taken away from Mylo Xyloto and if it was the only song on the album, it'd still be an achievement. I love how sweet Jonny Buckland's guitar sounds when he plays the lead-melody thing after the first chorus. And there is a hugeness that these guys just get right everytime. That pre-chorus instrumental build-up is unbeatable. The chorus itself ain't bad either.

Lykke Li - Silent My Song

Lykke Li's Wounded Rhythms was 21 on my list. It's very good. My only issue was that all the songs weren't as good as "Silent My Song". And frankly my issue with that song is that it doesn't sound as good on the record as it does live. I've listened to her performance on the Late Show at least a dozen times since I ripped it from a youtube clip. Her well-deep voice carries you ever downward as the brilliantly minimalist arrangement clangs in the deep, half-whale song, half-bell from hell.

The Dears - Thrones

I feel for The Dears. They make consistently great albums that are constantly compared to their first album, as if somehow they've been tarnishing their own legacy. Fuck that. Every album since No Cities Left has been achingly human and heartbreaking and stays with me for a long, long time. "Thrones" has a huge chorus that's not even as good as it's paranoid verse. A fine song in a career full of them, as always under-appreciated.

Cults - Abducted

Cults are occasionally too saccharine for me, but "Abducted" has enough sneer to cut through the sweetness. This is hands down my favourite song from their self-titled debut, a will-they-won't-they tale of hearts stolen and lost again.

Bonus:
Ok Sweetheart - Before You Go

Ok Sweetheart are a little out of my area of expertise and if it weren't for tragic news I'd never have heard of them. TCM's touching In Memorium segment was scored by the Tulsa, OK band's sweetly melancholic "Before You Go" this year and something about it stuck with me as I was watching the faces of actors I'd never work with, craftsman I'd taken for granted and directors who I'd never be able to tell how much they meant to me.