Pretty Goes with Pretty

The 12 Stages of Grief Mixtape

[Brief disclaimer: This is, I think, the last post of this nature. I promise more lighthearted fare next week...]

I was back home taking care of my dad, then dealing with the funeral and otherwise putting things in order, for about three weeks total. (It felt like three months.) When I returned to work last week, greeted by flowers and cards and kindness from my many co-workers, one of them—who has no idea I'm a nerd for music or that I have this blog or used to be in a band or used to run a performance space—offered to make me a mix of cathartic music. She claimed that certain aggressive songs helped her get through similar times. I told her thanks but no thanks: I was in the country music phase of my 12 Stages of Grief Mixtape.

It was just an off-the-cuff joke, but it made me think about my listening habits not just over the last few weeks but the last few months. I've obliquely made mention of it here in the past though hadn't (until earlier this week) come out and said what it was I was dealing with.

I first noticed the way my listening habits were being affected around the beginning of the year. This is the point at which my dad seemed perfectly healthy, though the inevitability of what was going to happen had been made plain by a phalanx of doctors. Because he did not seem outwardly sick, visiting Dad was not a sad experience—we'd go out, barbecue in the back yard, watch sports on TV, do the usual. There was no dwelling on the bad news, no urgent heart-to-heart talks; just laughter and crossword puzzles.

Yet once I returned home, four hours away, I'd find myself gravitating to a certain kind of music. It was hazy, hypnotic, gauzelike, perhaps with some percussive undercurrent. So, a lot of krautrock. Animal Collective's "For Reverend Green" fit the bill in a big way. Of course I wasn't in the mood for happy music, but I also wasn't in the mood for sad music. I wanted some sort of emotionless music. Something that could enevelop me and keep the world on pause or at a distance. I took long walks with this kind of music droning in my headphones, not really seeing the world outside, simply trusting my body to take me down familiar streets.

• Animal Collective, "For Reverend Green"
• Can, "Father Cannot Yell"
• Leonard Cohen, "Avalanche"
• The Ruby Suns, "Remember"
• Spiritualized, "Shine a Light"

None of these songs fall into the same genre, yet they all have that sort of enveloping feeling. Sonically they somehow embrace you without feeling comforting.

By this time last month, though, I needed comfort. I coincidentally picked up Andrew Bird's Mysterious Production of Eggs just a few days prior to the call from home, asking me to come up. I listened to the album on the drive up more or less for the first time, easing into it the same way I did Armchair Apocrypha—that is, it felt inviting at first but exhausting by the end. I knew that repeated listens would heal that. Eggs is a slower album; it feels more like Armchair's second half than its first. For my state of mind, I welcomed the lack of faster-paced numbers.

• Andrew Bird, "Sovay"

I've already written about why the album turned out to be just what I needed. Dad was declining rapidly; he was mentally sharp but physically spent when I first arrived, meaning I had a lot heavy lifting to do—getting him from his bed to his wheelchair and vice versa. It was an emotionally draining experience, to say the least, and became harder and harder each day. I continued to take those long walks but this time I needed songs that felt more soothing, warmer.

• Andrew Bird, "Masterfade"

I listened to Eggs and nothing else for at least a week straight. I guess it turned out to be my wallowing record. I'm still listening to it almost daily, though at least now I'm alternating between that and other albums. It helps that I'm back in L.A. again, with my full music collection to choose from and more opportunities to be out, listening.

Thus I unconsciously started mixing country music into my daily consumption. And when my co-worker got me quipping about mixtapes I had a sort of Freudian epiphany—that maybe my listening habits were still being shaped by my dad. He was a huge country fan, mostly bluegrass and 60s-70s style. Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, old-timey stuff.

It's hard for me to get more specific than that, though. Unlike the folky stuff he liked (which I've already written about), Dad's country tastes were exiled to his car stereo. Neither my mom nor his second wife liked it, so he kept it there. I think of his country music tastes as being more personal to him and more mysterious to me. I can't go out and buy the album I know he loved. I just have to guess, and make due with my own meager collection, most of which comes from a fairly brief alt-country phase in the late-90s/early-00s and a spate of downloading over the last few months.

• Jimmie Rodgers, "In the Jailhouse Now"
• Neko Case, "John Saw That Number"
• Gillian Welch, "Winter's Come and Gone"
• Buck Owens, "My Heart Skips a Beat"
• Willie Nelson, "My Own Peculiar Way"

That's okay though. I'm not really listening to this stuff to continue wallowing. For the most part I'm skipping past the aching ballads, opting instead for the upbeat numbers. Those are the kind of tunes Dad liked, I know that much. Right now, me too.

My Listening Hours: The Best of January–March

Okkervil River, The Stage Names
Okkervil River should have always been a band I liked. They have all the right ingredients: strong songwriting, great lyrics, nice variety. Yet my enjoyment has always been tentative—I'd download a track whenever one came up on a blog, and I'd like the song, but I'd never pull the trigger at the record store. I couldn't escape the suspicion that they were secretly mediocre—positive that all the songs I hadn't heard would be morose, meandering downers. I've voiced this suspicion before, but thanks to commenters assuring me otherwise, I finally took a shot with The Stage Names in December. In a way it was a touch leap to take, because this album's lead single, and leadoff track, "Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe," was probably one of my least favorite Okkervil River I'd encountered. There's something too melodramatic, too premeditated about it.

Hearing the full album for the first time, then, didn't get off to a great start. But then! The Stage Names quickly takes off on a string of outstanding tracks. The propulsive march of "Unless It's Kicks," the energy of "Is There a Hand to Take Hold of the Scene"—all the way to the end of the album. "Savannah Smiles" is a total button-pusher, like  the most manipulative  Oscar-baiting movie, but it succeeds  (I admit I'm a sucker for songs about fathers). "A Girl in Port" is a joy, lyrically, like sidling up to Will Sheff's barstool as he tells some tales. And my current-favorite "Plus Ones" is like a game—I'm still trying to catch all the references Sheff is making.

A couple of these songs I'd downloaded a while ago, but on their own they just didn't do it for me. As one of my commenters noted, Okkervil River is best consumed by the album, not by the track. Each part is made stronger by the sum. If I'd heard The Stage Names sooner, it would have been in my top albums of the year. In fact, it would have been squarely in the top two.

Ruby Suns, Sea Lion
I'd never heard of the Ruby Suns until my wife stumbled across them while searching for something else. She heard one track and sent off some dollars to Sub Pop for the full-length, and a week later it arrived. I forget just how refreshing it can be to hear a full album—not just a single song—completely cold. People are so used to dipping their toe in with an mp3 here, an iPod commercial there, that you typically buy an album already knowing at least one song, and therefore prepared for the overall sound. Not so with the Ruby Suns. They could've been mambo or math rock for all I knew.

That said, Sea Lion didn't knock me out on first listen. In fact it kinda floated right past me. Chalk it up to the occasional spacey song, the occasional substitute lead singer, and the overall layer of sounds and instruments. Despite being more or less a pseudonym for one guy, Ryan McPhun, the Ruby Suns sounds like a collective. Lots of voices, lots of instruments. In fact, speaking of collectives, the Ruby Suns seem to be some kind of spiritual brethren of the Elephant 6 bands. Happily, though, the Ruby Suns don't sound indebted to 60s pop—merely influenced, including by 60s acts like Os Mutantes (check "Tane Mahuta"—but to understand the variety of the album, also check "Remember").

Now I've owned Sea Lion for a few weeks, and like the best kind of album it's getting better with each and every listen. I'm almost ready to declare it my favorite album of 2008 so far. The complexities of Sea Lion have begun to reveal themselves, such as the way the vocal melody for "Ole Rinka" pops up four songs later as the instrumental hook for "Kenya Dig It." That's just one example; in short, Sea Lion is an interesting album, packed with musical ideas and full of pop hooks. It's like a perfectly cohesive mixtape: a lot of variety but glued together by some underlying similarities—and not too long, either.

Animal Collective, Strawberry Jam
I've mentioned in the past that my irrational preconceived notions kept me from ever investigating Animal Collective, so Strawberry Jam marks my first real encounter with the band, despite the handful of critically acclaimed albums behind them. I've been won over. I'm officially kicking myself that I was such a bastard about getting into these guys.

I like this album a lot—like Okkervil River, this would make it to my best-of list if I were to revise it—but I have to point out that Strawberry Jam is buoyed tremendously by three tracks in particular: "Peacebone," "For Reverend Green," and "Fireworks." The latter two in particular hold the whole thing up, coming as they do in the middle of the album one after another, both possessing similar characterstics (oohing choruses, hypnotic rhythms). They are the heart of the album and they mask some of the other (shorter and less captivating) songs. "For Reverend Green" especially has really struck a personal nerve for me. Perhaps fodder for another post, but I think the song will be one of those tunes I'll strongly associate with a specific point in my life.

Beach House, Devotion
I still feel guilty that my review (which includes an mp3 for "Gila") wound up sounding more negative than I'd intended. I'm increasingly enamoured with Beach House.

Vampire Weekend, s/t
Okay everyone, it's been almost two months since I advised you all to chill on reading, writing, and opining about Vampire Weekend. Did you? Did your hatred of their colonialist shenanigans wane? Did your loathing of their upper-class signifiers relax? Did you enjoy the simplicity of their easygoing, tuneful pop confections? Don't tell me: you did, but then Saturday Night Live and MTV ruined it all over again. Stupid backlash! It's still a good album. I'd offer you an mp3, but come on; you gotta know by now what you think.

Related: this was my favorite Vampire Weekend/Gilmore Girls scenario from the comments to Friday's post:

Emily sets Rory up on a date with one of her DAR friends' sons/nephews, who turns out to be Ezra Koenig. He invites Rory to see his band, she brings Lane, and they leave right away because of Rostam Batmanglij's awful scarf. Rory and Lorelai then go on to have an extended conversation about scarves, leading to an episode long joke of Lorelai making references to "Scarfie."

Come back tomorrow and I'll run down the rest of my listening hours for the last three months. But first—later today you'll get some bonus tracks.

Assessing the Assessments (More Best Ofs)

As previously noted, I've been clicking through Largehearted Boy's exhaustive collection of best-of posts, downloading samples of many albums that have been on my radar all year but for one reason or another I never pulled the trigger on. I've been doing this slowly but steadily since the Boy started compiling lists back in November. Feeling I've now surveyed the 07 pop landscape a little better, I thought I'd offer some further opinions on what I'm viewing as the general consensus/usual suspects that didn't make it onto my own best-of list. Some of these I've heard the entire album, some I haven't. I leave it to you to defend them and/or to push me to the point of (gasp!) paying money for the complete albums. And of course, if I've still left out what you consider the best album of the year, let me know in the comments.

Animal Collective, Strawberry Jam (listened to 7 of 9 tracks)
Encountering these guys very, very early on in their career (at which point I made numerous negative associations), compounded by previously hearing only the god-awful Campfire Songs in full, I gotta say I've been absolutely resistant to jumping on the Animal Collective (and affiliates) bandwagon. Finally in the last few months I've recognized my biases as irrational and I've begun to listen to tracks from Strawberry Jam on their own merit (here's one: "Peacebone"). I totally get why these guys are so talked about; as someone at another blog said (sorry, can't remember which one), there's a pretty good chance that this moment in music history will be identified by the sound of Animal Collective and the many bands in their sonic universe (Grizzly Bear, Yeasayer, Panda Bear, etc.)—reverbed-to-fuck, often harmonizing vocals; unpredictable song structures and dense layers of instrumentation and sounds; and a hodgepodge of influences ranging from psychedelia to folk to spastic hardcore to electronica to first-generation emo to Zappa, 13th Floor Elevators, and... no, not the fucking Beach Boys. That said, perhaps I just feel too familiar with the things influencing Animal Collective to shit myself over how original they are. Or maybe those negative associations just haven't entirely gone away.

Ultimate verdict: accolades deserved. Once I get over myself, I will likely purchase this (and one or two previous) album(s).

Arcade Fire, Neon Bible (purchased/listened to entire album)
I love Funeral to death. I think it will go down in history as one of the albums of the decade, and will influence innumerable young kids to start bands and change the world and all that. But Neon Bible? I'm shocked it is getting as much love as it is. This album is boring; this album is really boring. The lyrics are mostly idiotic and the production is muddled from beginning to end. I had mixed feelings on the album when it first came out, trying to find the goodness wherever I could out of love for their debut. But the fact is this album gets worse the further away I get from it. I'm going to bet that everyone showing love to Neon Bible was converted by a live show and not by the recording itself.

Ultimate verdict: accolades undeserved. Don't believe the hype.

Battles, Mirrored (listened to 6 of 11 tracks)
Best math rock album I've ever heard, though coming from me that could be damning with faint praise. In truth "Atlas" is easily--easily!--one of the best songs of the year, though the rest of (what I've heard of) the album does not ascend to the same heights. "Atlas" works so well because the virtuosity of the players never gets in the way of the fact that this is a party jam. But suppressing the sheen of virtuosity can be a difficult thing to sustain over an entire album.

Ultimate verdict: accolades deserved, though I trust lists that put it in their top 20 more than those that put it in the top 10.

Josh Ritter, The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter (listened to 5 of 14 tracks)
Ritter seems like a pretty straight-down-the-middle songwriter. He's never been on my radar before, but my ears perked up once I started seeing this on so many people's lists. He seems like a strong, if not totally distinctive, songwriter.

Ultimate verdict: undecided.

The National, Boxer (listened to 5 of 12 tracks)
Why does the National make me feel so unsure about myself? I can't figure them out; better put, I can't figure their fans out. What I've heard of Boxer is fine, just fine, but what are you people hearing that is making you lose your shit for them? Occasionally I'll hear a spark of something interesting in their songs, but the general tone seems a little one-note and not very engaging.

Ultimate verdict: accolades undeserved, until someone explains otherwise.

Of Montreal, Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? (listened to 8 of 12 tracks)
Of Montreal has a discography I've yet to truly navigate; I have an early, lo-fi album (Cherry Peel) and a later album (Satanic Panic in the Attic). But whenever I check their bin at the record store I see many other albums and I have no clue as to their chronology nor their quality. All I really know is that Satanic Panic is brilliant. Hissing Fauna... is pretty good. There's nothing bad about it but I can't find a toehold. Ultimately that has to count against the album, doesn't it? For a band that is so aggressively pop, I'm just not getting hooked. Then again I've only heard half the album. Does it work better as a whole? Do some songs need to work in context?

Ultimate verdict: undecided. I want to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Okkervil River, The Stage Names (listened to 6 of 9 tracks)
I have many Okkervil River songs on my iTunes, though no complete albums. I sense that that is where I go wrong with these guys. I find that I either really like or am really ambivalent to their songs. That's why I never did purchase Black Sheep Boy (despite "All the Latest Toughs") and why I've yet to buy The Stage Names (despite "Unless It's Kicks"). I have the strong suspicion that the majority of their songs are the ones I'm ambivalent to. There's something very mid/late-90s Drag City about Okkervil River, calling to mind also-rans like Appendix Out or Lullabye for the Working Class (remember them?). Those bands were (rightfully) regarded as second rate compared to Smog, Palace, Silver Jews, etc. I've yet to feel with confidence that Okkervil River transcends.

Ultimate verdict: undecided. Willing to be convinced.

Panda Bear, Person Pitch (listened to 4 of 8 tracks)
See above about Animal Collective, as all my reservations can be repeated here. I've had this album's virtues shoved down my throat by nearly every blog I read, which of course makes me rebel. Ultimately, however, I can't deny this album: it is unique and sophisticated and ambitious. But please, please, please, let's not mention Brian Wilson. Panda Bear is not fucking influenced by Brian Wilson, not in any substantial way (unless it's evident on the songs I haven't heard). Just because there are multiple vocal parts on "Comfy in Nautica" and "Bros" does not mean we've got the second coming of "God Only Knows." In terms of both melody and harmony, it's an insult to Wilson to put Panda Bear in the same room. PB has plenty of other virtues as a songwriter, but few if any which correlate to the Beach Boys. That I've heard, at least.

Ultimate verdict: accolades deserved, if misguided.

The Shins, Wincing the Night Away (purchased/listened to the entire album)
Like Neon Bible, I'm surprised to see this album popping up on lists (though thankfully, at least, not at the top of anyone's list). It's a pretty good album, sure, but it lacks real ambition. The band made a few minor adjustments to their approach on a couple songs in an attempt at setting Wincing apart from their previous work, but none were terribly refreshing or successful. Unlike Neon Bible, however, Wincing redeems itself the further away it gets from critical ears. I like most the songs when they show up on my iPod. I don't skip them, and I even sing along. But that compliment hardly qualifies Wincing for best-of-the-year status.

Ultimate verdict: accolades undeserved. A good album but not a great album.

Vampire Weekend (listened to 7 tracks)
Allergic to most blog hype, I ignored VW (along with Black Kids, et al.) when they came up earlier in the year. Listening to them now, without attaching any sort of Next Big Thing expectations, I actually like this a lot. There's nothing really groundbreaking here—it's just indie pop with a refreshing sound (example: "Oxford Comma"). Actually, that's how I would have described the Shins a few years ago!

Ultimate verdict: accolades deserved.

White Stripes, Icky Thump (purchased/listened to the entire album)
This album is a turd.

Ultimate verdict: accolades undeserved! Do not trust any list with this album anywhere on it—top ten, top hundred, whatever. If it's on someone's list then they didn't listen to enough music this year.

Wilco, Sky Blue Sky (listened to 8 of 12 tracks)
I consider myself a fan of Wilco, yet when mp3s started surfacing for Sky Blue Sky I was underwhelmed. "Impossible Germany" was wanky and a little boring. And I could've sworn my reaction was mirrored by many tepid reviews upon the album's release. Yet when it started showing up again and again on best-of lists, I gave it another chance and sampled more tracks. It's certainly growing in my estimation, thanks to songs like "Either Way" and "What Light." It's straight-down-the-middle mild country-rock, but it grows.

Ultimate verdict: accolades deserved, though I'm not convinced it should be placing quite as high on everyone's lists as it is.

Have I left anything out (other than MIA, who I just can't get excited about, sorry)? What was your favorite album of the year? What am I wrong about above? (I'm willing to be corrected if you've got a convincing argument.)