Pretty Goes with Pretty

My Listening Year: My Favorite Albums of the Year

My priorities this year were so far from keeping up with new releases that I've totally failed at coming up with a respectable best-of list—one comprised of actual 2009 releases, that is. I probably could have come up with eight or ten new albums I heard this year that I liked, or that were solid (see last week's post for recommendations of that nature.) But I can't bring myself to make that kind of list. This is something I went on about last year, but my simple stance is that an end-of-year list should be as long as the quality of records dictates it should be. So, if I were to do a list that only included 09 albums, I'd have a top two, maybe a top three. That seemed insufficient as far as a worthwhile blog post goes. So this year I'll dispense with the 09 list and the rundown of favorite old stuff and just jump straight to my own personal favorite acquisitions of the year. I've neglected to include mp3s this time around because all of these acts are going to show up in my playlist post tomorrow (75 songs!). If you're especially eager to hear any of these bands, however, I encourage you to click on the categories at the end of this post; somewhere or other on this blog I have done mp3s for all of these before.

Animal Collective: Merriweather Post Pavilion
Merriweather Post Pavilion is such a transcendent success because it works on the two most essential levels: one, it's a riveting album if for no other reason than its sound—the samples, the harmonies, the songs' cohesiveness, all adding up to something greater than the sum. But two, it's also just a straight-up jam. It's just a fucking fun record to play! "My Girls," "Summertime Clothes," "Brothersport" (especially the big instrumental ravey moment toward the end)... these songs appeal to the head-nodder, the car-dancer, the occasional funky boss that I am. Avey Tare and Panda Bear's voices blend with each other and with the music itself, creating a kind of sonic morass with a shining pop core—it's like the aural equivalent of looking at a searchlight in deep fog: ominous yet comforting. MPP weaves its thread through foreboding numbers like "Almost Frightened," through romantic sentiments like "Bluish," through flirtations with the abstract in "Daily Routine," yet remains compelling and, again, simply pleasurable, throughout. At this point I'm exhausted by talking about this band at all—praising them, defending them, parsing them, dissecting them. Then again this album isn't really for talking about—at its core, no classic album is. It's just for putting on and feeling in your gut that it's incredible.

Faust: Faust IV
Did I really only pick this album up this year? I guess I did—I bought it right around Christmas 2008. But man, it feels like I've known this album forever. I prefer that lie; otherwise I'd have to feel the ache of knowing that I'd made it to my third decade without this in my life. (Confidential to all Animal Collective fans: I've said this before but will reiterate that I find Faust to be a kind of spiritual ancestor to AC—they have a similar blend of seriousness and playfulness, of accessibility and experimentation, of genre jumping and genre defining. You owe it to yourself to dig up at least one of AC's roots by getting this album.)

Dr. Dog: Fate
Wait: Fate was on my 2008 list! I know. It was my fifth favorite album of last year. But it deserves a second shout-out because I think I wound up listening to it more this year than last. If I were to remake last year's list, this would be #1. Unlike the top two on the present list there is nothing remotely experimental about Fate; it happily, confidently blends an adoration for the Band and other classic rock acts, all of whom you've heard of before. The album is also structured like a conversation, with main songwriters Toby Leaman and Scott McMicken trading tunes back and forth, each grappling with themes of religion, free will, and yes, fate. By the end of the album you almost feel like they might have even reached a healthy conclusion. Fate is a smart, compelling album—and it's become an essential part of any road trip or pick-me-up playlist.

Neko Case: Middle Cyclone
Neko Case made the best record of her career. It can be hard to settle in with—most of the tracks on Middle Cyclone are aching ballads, and it can feel monotonous during the first few times through—but once the record clicks, those aches are your aches. As with the Dr. Dog record, Middle Cyclone mostly sinks its teeth into a lyrical theme—bad romance—in which each song adds a level of depth to all of the others. You hurt for the woman in "Pharoahs" in part because you already felt for the narrator of "Middle Cyclone." You worry for the person behind "This Tornado Loves You" after you meet the protagonist of "The Next Time You Say Forever." And so on. It's not all like this: "Prison Girls" is some hot noir; "Never Turn Your Back on Mother Earth" is just a powerhouse (and a little nuts); and I'm not going to say no to a Harry Nilsson cover ("Don't Forget Me"). Neko Case made the best record of her career—did I say that already?

The Byrds: Ballad of Easy Rider
Dillard & Clark: The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard & Clark
These two albums came out in the same year, 1969, and they make a good pair. Easy Rider is the second Byrds album to feature Roger McGuinn and a bunch of guys who weren't original members (and it's also an excellent country record that is as good as Sweetheart of the Rodeo, maybe better). Fantastic Expedition, meanwhile, features three ex-Byrds in Gene Clark, Chris Hillman, and Michael Clarke (and is also an excellent country record that is as good as Sweetheart of the Rodeo, maybe better).

Animal Collective: Sung Tongs
What can I say? This one was new to me this year. (Richard, after so many conversations in my comments about the merits of Sung Tongs, I hope you feel vindicated that this album has risen in my esteem with every passing month.) Yeah, I still like MPP more, but the allure of this record is so different it's difficult to compare. MPP is immediate; the melodies of Sung Tongs burrow. The rhythms of Sung Tongs waft past you if you let them, but they're not aimless. (And to my surprise it was produced by a kid I knew in high school!)

The Feelies: Crazy Rhythms
See last week. I still love it.

Tomorrow: 75 songs. Portrait of a listening year.

Greece Soundtrack

 

Tortoise, s/t (2), Millions Now Living will Never Die, TNT (2), Standards (3), and It's All Around You (4)
Dr. Dog, Fate
Akron/Family, Set 'em Wild, Set 'em Free (2)
Little Joy, s/t
Neko Case, Middle Cyclone (2)
Panda Bear, Person Pitch
Minutemen, The Punchline
Philip Glass, Solo Piano
Franciose Hardy, La Question (3)
Brightblack Morning Light, s/t (3)
Antonio Carlos Jobim and Elis Regina, Elis & Tom (2)
The Radio Dept., Lesser Matters
Four Tet, Rounds
Nina Simone,  Bittersweet: The Very Best of Nina Simone
Astrud Gilberto, Verve Jazz Masters 9 (2)
Iron & Wine, The Creek Drank the Cradle, Our Endless Numbered Days, and The Shepherd's Dog
The Grateful Dead, Workingman's Dead
Simon & Garfunkel, Sounds of Silence
The Ruby Suns, Sea Lion
Air, Talkie Walkie
The Stone Roses, s/t
Travis, The Man Who, The Invisible Band, and 12 Memories
Sam Cooke, Best of Sam Cooke
Sonic Youth, Daydream Nation
Pavement, Slanted and Enchanted, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, and Wowee Zowee
Okkervil River, The Stage Names
Scratch Acid, s/t
Echo and the Bunnymen, Stand Up and Sing
Morrissey, Bona Drag

It's been about three weeks since I've updated things around here, but I have a good excuse: I was in Greece. Hence this week's soundtrack post is pretty long. It's actually more than the Greece trip: first there was the Tortoise marathon at home; then the next day we took a quick road trip to Santa Barbara—you know we took a road trip because Dr. Dog and Little Joy were played in close proximity. For some reason those have been the road trip albums for the last six or eight months, whether as far as San Francisco or Arizona or as near as Malibu.

• Dr. Dog: Uncovering The Old
• Little Joy: The Next Time Around

Then there are the other fallback albums for long traveling. Philip Glass is my go-to when I'm trying (unsuccessfully) to sleep on an airplane. Elis & Tom, Astrud Gilberto, and Air always seem to crop up when my brilliant wife and I are in vacation relaxation mode. (It helps that we're typically near a beach; the bossanova and relaxed electronica seem especially suited to that environment.)

• Antonio Carlos Jobim & Elis Regina: Só Tinha De Ser Com Você
• Air: Universal Traveler

Somewhere during the second week of the trip, as we'd settled into our hotel in Santorini and committed ourselves to doing nothing, I shifted into mini-marathons: Iron & Wine and Travis. This continued on the plane ride home with a little Pavement.

• Travis: The Cage

And now we're back. Been back all week. Back to my daily routine—one album walking to work, one album riding the bus home.

• Echo & the Bunnymen: Seven Seas

A Note on Dr. Dog

After a week's worth of posts on my new-to-me albums of the last three months, I still feel a need to pipe up about one more album that doesn't fall in that category. In my 2008 wrap-up, I placed Dr. Dog's Fate at #5 on my best-of-the-year list. Here's what I said at the time:

[Fate is] such a rock record, so straightforward, so classic, so Beatlesy, so Bandy, so easily digestible indie-y. But six months since buying it, Fate has continued to grow on me. I originally thought it had two or three really fantastic songs and the rest good but not great. I'd go a month without listening to it, then I'd put it on again. I'd reconsider: like, four or five really fantastic songs and the rest good but not great. By now I'm up to about nine or ten really fantastic songs and the other three pretty good. By March this ought to be a masterpiece.

Honestly, I was being cheeky with that last line. But you know what? I think it happened. Listening to Fate has only become more enjoyable. If I were to remake my list today, I'd bump this up to #2, possibly even #1—it already feels like it's going to have more longevity than Fleet Foxes, an album I still love and will continue to defend against the haterz but which I admittedly haven't put on much since last year. Fate, on the other hand, continues to grow in my esteem. The five guys that make up this band are all confident, talented musicians—they have chops and they aren't afraid to put them to use. Co-leaders Scott McKicken and Toby Leaman essentially trade songs back and forth like a conversation, each track a meditation on religion, meaning, fate, will. The result is, while not exactly a concept album, a thematically linked record that moves from a song full of questions (opener "The Breeze") to songs of searching, desperation, and joy, and concluding with the hopeful "My Friend," which literally melts everything that came before it into a single song—as if to say it's all important, the questions and the searching, the desperation and the joy. 

• Dr. Sog: The Breeze

My Listening Year: The Rest of the Best of 08

So here's the full list. Beyond the first two or three or four, don't take the ranking too seriously. 9 could be 5, 6 and 7 could swap, and 8 could be 9. And 10 is like a ninja; it could spring into action at any moment, wreaking havoc on the list.

1. Fleet Foxes, s/t

2. The Ruby Suns, Sea Lion

3. Vampire Weekend, s/t
Last time I wrote about Vampire Weekend—not counting my Gilmore Girls fan fiction—I advised that everyone stop reading about Vampire Weekend, stop writing about Vampire Weekend, and just listen to Vampire Weekend. Many months removed, it's sort of amusing to think about how riled everyone got about this record. Inflated issues of privilege or colonialism aside, Vampire Weekend is just a really fun album to sing along to, to dance to, to smile with. It's a pleasure from beginning to end. I do wonder if the boys will be able to find a subject matter for their next record that isn't New England coeds, but for the time being this is remains a wonderful, light, fun album.

• Vampire Weekend: The Kids Don't Stand A Chance

4. Little Joy, s/t
This is a late addition to the list—I've only had it for about three weeks. When the album came out it went right over my radar since it was marketed as a "Strokes side project"—three words that don't really generate much enthusiasm over here. Happily my wife took the time to listen. Now Little Joy has made itself nice and comfy around the house. We put it on while we cook, while we drive, while we read the paper, whatever. It's a relaxing, lighthearted record clearly made by a relaxed, lighthearted band. This short album is eleven simple songs that don't overstay their welcome—in the case of many, you wish they'd stay longer! These are pop songs made by friends looking for nothing more than the pleasure of each others' company.

• Little Joy: No One's Better Sake

5. Dr. Dog, Fate
Like Little Joy, Fate required someone intervening in my life and telling me I had to listen to it (in this case a good friend—one without a blog! crazy!—rather than my brilliant wife). It's such a rock record, so straightforward, so classic, so Beatlesy, so Bandy, so easily digestible indie-y. But six months since buying it, Fate has continued to grow on me. I originally thought it had two or three really fantastic songs and the rest good but not great. I'd go a month without listening to it, then I'd put it on again. I'd reconsider: like, four or five really fantastic songs and the rest good but not great. By now I'm up to about nine or ten really fantastic songs and the other three pretty good. By March this ought to be a masterpiece.

• Dr. Dog: Uncovering The Old

6. Beach House, Devotion
Devotion turned out to have more longevity than I originally expected it to. The same caveat still applies: you have to like the song this duo does, because they keep doing it over and over again. Maybe it just suited my mood this year, but I kept coming back. Victoria Legrand's voice is one of the best in indie rock at the moment, and Alex Scally does an exceptional job of adding just enough guitar to each track—coloring the song in without overtaking it. The whole of Devotion is like walking through a dense fog, with just enough light to lead you further in.

• Beach House: Home Again

7. Okkervil River, The Stand Ins
The Stand Ins was the third of three Okkervil albums I purchased this year, which really was a kind of overdose. If I could rank The Stage Names in this list, it would probably be number one—but that was 2007. This year's album is still really terrific, thanks mostly to three or four songs as good as anything Sheff has ever done—among them "Singer Songwriter," and "Pop Lie." It took a little distance from my Okkervil Obsession, however, to notice that the rest of The Stand Ins is solid, but not consistently top-notch. A more than worthy album, though I'll still take The Stage Names for the best and most cohesive album Sheff's done so far.

• Okkervil River: Pop Lie

8. Shearwater, Rook
I feel about Shearwater the way I feel about mushrooms: they are both delectable and detestable, awesome and awful, simultaneously. When I listen to Rook I hold my nose with one hand and make dramatic, swooping, Ronnie James Dio-like arm movements with the other. Yes, Rook can be overwrought at times, but it can also be captivating and powerful.

• Shearwater: Century Eyes

9. The Walkmen, You & Me
The nice thing about doing your end-of-year list in December is you get to read up on all the giddier bloggers' premature lists. I've had You & Me for about six days now, thanks to seeing it on a few different lists and checking out an mp3. Hearing "In the New Year" reminded me that I like the Walkmen. I dug Bows + Arrows when it came out a few years back but was scared off by all the tepid reviews for A Hundred Miles Off in 2006. After all, Bows + Arrows did demonstrate that the Walkmen had a specific sound they were going for; it could, conceivably, get old. That sound—a total absence of low end; the way the drummer seems to be hanging on by a thread; Hamilton Leithauser's disassociative lounge act—is still in place here, but that's okay. You & Me is far superior to Bows + Arrows. It's a more cohesive album, a more emotionally resonant album.

• The Walkmen: In The New Year

10. To Be Announced
Within days of posting my list last year, I discovered at least two albums that in retrospect belonged on the list. So, rather than toss on MGMT (which has four outstanding tracks—you've heard all of them—and a lot of okay songs) or some other album I'm lukewarm on just so I can round the list out, I'm going to leave this space open for now. I'll let you know if and when I fill it. 

My Listening Hours: The Best of July–September

Fleet Foxes, s/t
I'll stick with what I said in my original review—namely that this is the only 2008 release I've heard so far that took my breath away from note one. One of my qualifiers for a great album is noting how many songs become "my favorite" the more I listen. Thus far I think I've declared four or five different tracks here as my favorite. Most recently, "He Doesn't Know Why."

I look forward to Fleet Foxes' next album, whenever it may come, for two reasons. Now that they've got J. Tillman in the band, I'm curious to see whether his songwriting has any influence. More importantly, I saw Fleet Foxes live a week or so back and they were phenomenal, in a way that clearly shows that they have become better than what is currently on record.

• Fleet Foxes,  He Doesn't Know Why

Brian Eno: Another Green World
Carrie Brownstein at Monitor Mix had a post a while back about playing a classic album for virgin ears, wondering whether it could hold up on its own merits, cannonization aside. her example was Patti Smith's Horses, but she could just have easily used Another Green World as her example. Eno is someone I'm shamefully unschooled in, considering my soft spot for the quietly abstract. He's surely a primary influence for plenty of artists in my collection, yet I've never heard any of his albums, other than an early Roxy Music album which I can't stomach. I always understood his solo material to be the starting point for ambient, so I was (pleasantly) surprised to hear how pop-oriented much of Another Green World is. It didn't start well, though: I was taken aback by "Sky Saw," which is almost comically dated, with its flanged-out guitars and fretless bass noodling. The fretless bass continues into the second track, too, so on first listen I was beginning to think all the uber-music nerds were playing a joke on me. Happily from there things get on track. All of the pop-oriented tracks—those with vocals, choruses, pop structures, like "St. Elmo's Fire" or "I'll Come Running"—are catchy yet complex. Then there are the instrumental tracks, which, aside from the first two, achieve a kind of timelessness. "The Big Ship" could have been produced last year. This is one of my favorite acquisitions of the year by a few yards.

• Brian Eno, The Big Ship

Okkervil River, The Stand Ins
2008 could arguably be described as my year of Okkervil River. The Stage Names, Black Sheep Boy, and now The Stand Ins (in that order) were all new to me this year. Taken together, Will Sheff and co. have occupied a substantial chunk of my listening hours (rivaled only by Andrew Bird, I'd guess). The Stage Names remains my favorite, but its companion holds its own pretty well. I'm especially pleased to see OR continue to bring the rock. The band's bouncy and propulsive rhythms complement Sheff's cascade of vivid lyrics better than the more morose, plodding ballads (compare highlights "Lost Coastline," "Singer Songwriter," and "Pop Lie" to the good-but-tiring "Blue Tulip" for evidence). Anyone can moan out a dramatic turn of phrase in a ballad, but it takes real skill to paint a nuanced lyrical portrait in a rocker, where so often simple chants about sex or nonsense suffice for all the rump shakers. Taking Sheff's many references to film as my cue: anyone can over-emote in their Oscar Monologue, but the true talent lies in sharp satire.

• Okkervil River, Pop Lie

Dr. Dog, Fate
I wasn't expecting much from Dr. Dog. For one, how much stock can you put in a band dumb enough to call themselves Dr. Dog? Too, my brilliant wife downloaded a sampling of tracks from all their early albums, most of which I found workmanlike at best. But upon the urging of a friend who couldn't stop listening to Fate, I took a chance. Though I still wouldn't take the "workmanlike" tag away from them completely—it's straightforward indie rock no matter how you slice it—I nevertheless grant big points to a band that has a true sense of craft when it comes to pop songs. Just about everything here, especially in the first half, is a total earworm, not to mention played with confidence by all members. The second half gets to feel a little samey—it could probably have lost at least two songs and been a stronger record for it—but then again the more I listen to it the more some of the later tracks reveal their quality. One more thing in Dr. Dog's defense: the Beatles comparisons made in nearly every mention of the band I've come across have got to stop. Yes, you can hear a little late-period Beatles in their songs, but the band is hardly ripping them off wholesale. I hear the Band in there too, not to mention the singer's voice resembles Wayne Coyne's more than anyone from the 60s, never mind Lennon or McCartney. They're contemporary indie more than they are some kind of throwback band.

• Dr. Dog, The Breeze

Holy Fuck, LP
Nearly two-thirds of the way into 2008, it is really dawning on my how great of year 2007 truly was for music. By the close of last year, I already had a top ten list I was pretty confident about. By the spring of this year I'd picked up a few more albums—The Stage Names, Strawberry Jam, and others—that would've placed high on that list as well. Still, I figured my 2007 purchases would taper off by April or so, but they didn't: I added Fiery Furnaces' Widow City to my list some time in May. Now, Holy Fuck. This album gets off to a so-so start—the music can feel a little faceless, so it really needs a strong melody or an unbreakable backbone to rise above Workout Mix caliber. Once "Lovely Allen" kicks in, segueing fluidly into album highlight "The Pulse," the entire rest of the record quite simply kicks ass.

• Holy Fuck, The Pulse

Four Tet, Ringer
After a Fridge reunion and three records with Steve Reid, I was beginning to wonder if Kieren Hebden was ever going to return to his Four Tet moniker. Looks like he has, if only for a quick four-song EP. Don't let the name on the album cover fool you, though: Ringer is a departure from Hebden's previous work. Most of the songs here remind me more of Orbital than Four Tet. That's not a bad thing by any means, unless the incessant 4/4 beat drives you up the wall. At thirty minutes, it doesn't get to me. In fact, it's encouraging to hear Hebden continue to branch out.

• Four Tet, Ribbons

MGMT, Oracular Spectacular
My love for MGMT has waned slightly since the last time I talked about them, mostly due to overexposure and their pitiful live show, which I caught when they opened for Beck and Spoon at Hollywood Bowl. Putting that aside, though, Oracular Spectacular is still a solid album and still great fun.

• MGMT, Weekend Wars
  

Philip Glass, Solo Piano
Steve Reich, Different Trains
This year I've begun to pick up more and more contemporary composers, finally wading a little deeper into a pool which I'd previously only dipped a toe or two. Earlier this year I picked up Glassworks, which I enjoyed immensely (though I know there is a lot out there more ambitious in intent). I like Solo Piano for the same reason: it's relaxing, it's not a single hour-long piece (so I don't feel obligated to concentrate on it from beginning to end when I put it on). I wouldn't go so far as to call it background music, though I do default into a relaxed mood whenever I put it on.

Different Trains is another beast, though. Far from relaxing, I've actually found it to be a great workout album! About thirty minutes long, steady and repetitive rhythm, and a narrative arc to keep you engaged as you go. As for the composition itself, the strings follow melodies dictated by voice samples of people talking about trains—first about travel in the U.S., then morphing into discussions of trains used during the Holocaust. It's affecting, if heavy-handed. I found it quite powerful on first listen, and still feel that power (though slightly less so) with repeated listens. Like a movie with tough subject matter, I can't say I'll reach for it over and over—unless I'm on a treadmill!

• Philip Glass, Metamorphosis One
• Steve Reich, Different Trains I: America - Before the War

Later this week, the rest and the worst of the last three months.