It's nearly impossible for me to listen to Tame Impala without thinking of the Beatles and getting a bit nostalgic about classic rock. On Innerspeaker, there's no shortage of psychedelic jams; Zeppelin, Hendrix are all invoked here. And surely some of the credit for this big "classic" sound is due to Flaming Lips producer David Fridmann. Remember that supposed garage rock revival in the early 00s? Tame Impala's high octane riffs and melodic vocals wouldn't have sounded out of place during this retro revival, but their Aussie rivals (i.e., the Vines) would have fled for the hills.
"Solitude is Bliss"
9. Arcade Fire - The Suburbs (Merge)
This record provided part of the soundtrack for my relocation to Edmonton. It was especially appropriate for the drive through Calgary (shudder). The Suburbs isn't perfect, but it has the kind of emotional energy that only Arcade Fire can provide. Thematically, it's also the group's most sophisticated record; sure, the ideas are big and obvious (that's kind of a given in pop music), but the Arcade Fire handle them with delicacy and nuance. (Read my initial review.)
"Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)"
8. Joanna Newsom - Have One on Me (Drag City)
With every release, Joanna Newsom becomes more surprising and less compromising. That being said, Have One on Me is more relaxed and refined than both Ys and The Milk-Eyed Mender. When the drums kick in on the effortless, swaggering "Soft as Chalk," for example, Newsom seems unsurpassable in her coolness. She steals a few octave jumps from Joni Mitchell, clumsily pounding the ivory like every great folk artist before her. By now, it seems inappropriate to even question her place among the finest of folk-singers.
"81"
7. Future Islands - In Evening Air (Thrill Jockey)
Over the last six months Sam Herring has become one of my favourite vocalists. Channelling Frank Black, Carey Mercer, and Ian Curtis, Herring's ecstatic growl cuts against up-tempo beats and new wave ornaments. Amounting to nine tracks in under forty mintues, In Evening Air is a punchy record, as affective as it is economical. (It also doesn't hurt that In Evening Air boasts some of the best album artwork of the year.) Musically, Herring & co. demonstrate plenty of range (from the angsty "Tin Man" to the hopeful, introspective "Swept Inside"), and the emotional drive that sustains this album (which rests heavily on Herring's vocal maneuvers and the chugging basslines) never feels forced or contrived.
"Tin Man"
6. Deerhunter - Halcyon Digest (4AD)
2008's Microcastle seemed like a big leap for Deerhunter (a leap that ended up being my favourite of the year); on Halcyon Digest, the band's feet are firmly planted. The ambient diversions and transitions have all but disappeared. Instead, we get a more diverse display of Deerhunter's best qualities. At times it's a pretty heavy record: mortality, aging, and transcendence are, as usual, heavily mined themes. Bradford Cox still seems preoccupied with obscure stories of religious affectation ("Revival" and "Helicopter"), while secondary songwriter Lockett Pundt aims for arena-rock with "Desire Lines." Cox & co. have yet to disappoint with their songwriting, but it's the stylistic moves and the instrumental additions (like the wicked saxophone solo on "Coronado") that make Halcyon Digest a great record.
"Desire Lines"
5. Beach House - Teen Dream (Sub Pop)
Sometimes its a good thing that music puts you to sleep. On Teen Dream, Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally practically pull open the covers and crawl into bed with you. When this album leaked early last spring, I made sure to keep it circulating through my stereo. Nearly every song could be a single and nearly every song could make for a great cover by a children's choir (please do yourself a favour and check out "Zebra," sung by the P22 Chorus). No record this year was as soft around the edges, as warm or as comforting. Teen dreams make for the best kind of nostalgia; Beach House present them with all of emotion and none of the regret.
"Norway"
4. The National - High Violet (4AD)
I like to imagine that The National's frontman Matt Beringer is the Don Draper of the indie rock world. It works on a few levels. Both dudes manage to embody a sadness that's not only believable, but attractive; they're both solitary figures with family problems (see, for example, the heart-wrenching "Lemonworld") and neither one is shy about his dependence on certain substances to make it through the day (and night). But the parallel breaks down just as easily. Beringer comes by his confessions honestly. Not only that, he's a sad dude you can actually relate to. I've given up wondering whether High Violet improves on 2007's Boxer, or even 2005's underrated Alligator. It may take less time to warm up to the National's new material than it used to be, but songs like "Anyone's Ghost," "Bloodbuzz Ohio," and the unbelievably epic "England," have serious staying power. And how can you not love I guy who confesses, "I was afraid I'd eat your brains"? I want to see this song ("Conversation 16") on The Walking Dead. I love albums that finish strong. High Violet ends as strongly as it begins. (Read my initial review.)
"England"
3. Menomena - Mines (Barsuk)
No one sounds quite like Menomena; but somehow Menomena manage to sound like almost everyone. Paradox! Well, it might be if I didn't have qualify it so much. But the point still stands. Menomena dwell in contradiction, and it appears they're quite suited for it. Brent Knopf's slight vocals appear pinned against massive walls of sound, while the rich baritones of Danny Seim and Justin Harris are just as often laid bare. If this is music for the end of the world, why do these guys insist fighting the forces of darkness with the weapon's of a bygone era? Why do they keep singing about religion when it's just as dead as everything else? Those familiar tropes keep popping up, and just as often, Menomena go for boldly sentimental choruses, with equal parts squealing guitar rawk and booming choral chant. With three brilliant multi-instrumentalist songwriters working together, Menomena's music is always more than the sum of its parts, and the songs on Mines move around so much you never know quite where you'll end up. (Read my initial review.)
"Lunchmeat"
2. Balmorhea - Constellations (Western Vinyl)
Thank God for this album. For most of the semester it was the only music I could study to. But classifying it as "study music" sells it short. Constellations is an achingly beautiful hybrid of southern folk and classical arrangements; imagine a cross between dust-bowl sounds of Gillian Welch and the careful precision of the French pianist, Debussy. It's the only instrumental album on my list, but the fourth album by this band from Austin, Texas seemed like a special discovery this past year and I'm grateful for the composure it offered during the long autumn months. There's nothing immediately jawdropping here; instead Balmorhea strive for slow-building understatement while staying true to their southern beginnings. Perhaps this strange fusion explains why these carefully arranged Constellations sound so warm and inviting.
"Bowspirit"
1. Women - Public Strain (Flemish Eye / Jagjaguwar)
Women had a mixed year. After releasing their second album to critical acclaim, the band made headlines for self-destructing on stage at show in Victoria, BC. I had tickets for their show in Edmonton the following weekend. I've never had to return tickets and I never expected that I'd have to do so because a band broke up the week before I was supposed to see them. By this point in November, I knew Public Strain was my favourite album of the year. It may be odd to say for an album this noise-y, but this was my go-to album when I felt stressed out during the past semester. Like the snow storm featured on their album cover (totally surrounding its victims, making for poor visibility), Women smother their surf-guitar pop in dissonant feedback. That might have been too obvious, but I'd add that Women's musical blizzard is the kind of storm you take comfort in. At times Public Strain feels like the musical equivalent of wearing beer-goggles: disorienting, disconcerting, and kind of fun. Like the best experimental art-rockers (seriously, Sonic Youth, just quit and pass the torch to these guys; the same goes for No Age), Women make you work for those melodies; there's some digging to do here, but when you find that golden chord it feels new every time. I'm looking forward to their reunion tour. (Read my initial review.)
I'd be lying if I said I had a great summer. There were certainly some great moments, but my departure from Winnipeg cast a large shadow over much of it. So, here I am in a new city with a new vocation and a familiar climate. I'm still working my way through some difficult transitions, but what I've been dreading most is now behind me. And the stage has been set for a whole new kind of anxiety.
Here, in typically cryptic fashion, is my summer narrated through seven noteworthy tracks that I've been listening to over past few months. The list could have been much longer, but you know how it goes.
1. The theme song for every cool guy who struts his stuff on a street where nobody notices: Panda Bear - Slow Motion, from Tomboy 7" (Paw Tracks)
2. When you're so chill that the intense heat is the least of your worries, and the beach remains nothing more than a refreshing idea: Gorillaz - Rhinestone Eyes, from Plastic Beach (EMI)
3. For the inevitable return to suburbia and all the strange feelings (nostalgia, self-consciousness, anxiety, and isolation) that follow: Arcade Fire - Rococco, from The Suburbs (Merge)
4. A lackadaisical, nostalgic embrace of that which is out of your control: Wild Nothing - Chinatown, from Gemini (Captured Tracks)
5. More of the same via surf-rock; this time with a pseudo-romantic twist : Best Coast - Boyfriend, from Crazy for You (Mexican Summer)
6. Here, finally, is some motivation; that boost you thought you needed is really an invitation to get over yourself: The Roots - Right On (ft. Joanna Newsom, STS), from How I Got Over (Mercury)
7. Through the confusion, the false stops and starts, and all the static of interfering frequencies, something emerges -- not quite what you expected but the beauty is there if you let yourself see it: Baths - Hall, from Cerulean (Anticon)
I was recently asked for my favourites of the year so far. If you're like me, being asked a question like this is easy bait. We're only just past the half-way point and it didn't take long for me to ramble off a smattering of albums I've really been enjoying. Unsurprisingly, I've already written about most of them on this blog.
Balmorhea - Constellations A strange fusion of familiar sounds, this group of musicians from Texas have produced a stunning album of classically minded instrumental folk-music that is profoundly affective and moving. There's just something about the combination of a banjo, a small orchestra and a kickdrum that ties my stomach up in knots. Constellations may end up being my album of the year. See my review. Menomena - Mines I've written of this album extensively. It's not even officially out yet, but already I've listened to and thought about Mines more than anything else released this year. It helps to have a few pals that are as captivated by Menomena's way with composition and melody. It also might have helped that I've been reading Dante's Divine Comedy ("Killemall") and Moby Dick ("BOTE"). See my reviews. The National - High Violet The National came alive for me with High Violet. Sure, I was a fan of Boxer and Alligator. But something about Matt Beringer's melancholy seems more realized on the new album. I think it's their best album and you'll be hard-pressed to find a better executed rock record this year (unless it's by Menomena, but, then again, I've got another five months to back up that claim). It probably helped that I had become a huge fan of Mad Men in the mean time. See my review. Joanna Newsom - Have One On Me Could this be Newsom's most straight-forward album? It's certainly her most consistent. And when you consider that it's a triple album (!), it's hard not to call it her best. Lyrically, she's still full of wit and an attention to diction that's rarely found in most contemporary songwriters. I love hearing moments borrowed from Joni Mitchell, as well as great accompaniment. Newsom has done something excessive and audacious (arguably moreso than with Ys.) and has once again miraculously avoided falling flat on her face. Lord knows, that's what anyone else would have done.
The above are the cream of the crop, in my opinion. Below is my long list, in no particular order.
Surfer Blood - Astro Coast These New Puritans - Hidden Toro Y Moi - Causers of This Crystal Castles - II Frog Eyes - Paul's Tomb: A Triumph Future Islands - In Evening Air Gorillaz - Plastic Beach Beach House - Teen Dream Tara Jane O'Neill - A Ways Away The Morning Benders - Big Echo Caribou - Swim Ariel Pink - Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffitti Owen Pallett - Heartland Shearwater - The Golden Archipelago
I'll be quite busy from now until the end of the semester (yesterday it hit me just how much work I still have to do for one of my classes), but study and solitude aren't half as bad if you have the right music playing on your stereo/computer. I stumbled into Balmorhea's third album Constellations not knowing quite what to expect. When I noticed the instrumental Texas band had listed Debussy as an influence, I was intrigued and sure enough, "Steerage and The Lamp" sounds like a wonderful homage to the classical pianist's work. "Bowspirit," on the other hand (a rival for Constellations' best track) is a spare and spacious, as it eases along into a lush wall of strings, driven by handclaps and a lonely banjo: a hard song not to love once you've heard it through. Combined with upright bass, banjo, violins and other alt-folk staples, Balmorhea's sound is hard to pinpoint but I don't know if I've ever heard such a satisfying instrumental record. I'm hoping to catch up on their back catalogue. Here's a video of them performing "Steerage and The Lamp."
In a similar vein, I've been enjoying new releases by Shearwater and Joanna Newsom. Shearwater's wonderfully lame The Golden Archipelago is like Shearwater's previous work, unabashedly grandiose and sweeping. At its best, Jonathan Meiburg's baritone croon is akin to that of David Bowie. Tracks like "Corridors" and "Black Eyes" tread the same battered territory as "Seventy-Four, Seventy-Five," one of my favourites from 2006's Palo Santo, while "God Made Me" is a haunting acoustic ballad that erupts into a sweeping dirge part way through, and nicely sums how easly Shearwater can turn sublte sounds into massive epics. Epic. There's no getting away from that word with Shearwater, for better or worse. The Golden Archipelago? Do these guys really take themselves this seriously? Judging by their album covers, I'm going to say, "yes." I'm still unsure whether my admiration for Shearwater partly stems from their artistic desire to go for broke, or it has to do with how uncool this music would be if anyone else was performing it.
Joanna Newsom's third LP, Have One On Me, has been getting unanimous support from critics and I have to throw mine into the mix as well. I adored TheMilk-Eyed Mender and, like everyone else, didn't quite know what to do with Ys., but was impressed and engaged by it. It's been emphasized again and again how long her new album is, but there's nothing on it that even comes close to filler. I confess that I still haven't had time to listen to it all the way through, but I've heard most of it sporadically and I'm particularly fond of the moments where Newsom aspires to the vocal heights of Joni Mitchell. But it's still unmistakably Newsom, plucking away at her harp, chirping through poetic lines that'll stick with you; that is, unless you can't get past her disarming vocals.
The final album I'm going to tout on this post comes from a much-hyped band from California. The Morning Benders' sophomore effort, Big Echo, not only boasts one of the best album covers of the year, but delivers a huge slab of easy-going, inventive indie-pop. This is surely going to be a big hit this summer when things start warming up. The opening track, "Excuses," has already been making its rounds on music blogs, but what first drew me in was the jangle-pop, non-chalance of "Promises," a perfectly executed summer pop song that admits "I can't help thinking we grow up too fast . . . No, I know this won't last a second longer than it has." This is going to be a moderately big record. That's my prediction.
Joanna Newsom - The Milk-Eyed Mender (Drag City, 2004) - Ys. (Drag City, 2006)
In the interest of time, I've decided to treat two albums at once (I'll also be doing this with a few other lucky artists). Joanna Newsom almost got lost in the great freak-folk trend of 2004/05, but unlike Devendra Banhart and Akron/Family, she's got real staying power; not only is she a witty lyricist and a creative-genius, she's demonstrated serious constraint and hasn't produced a single dud. Every song on the Milk-Eyed Mender is quirky, but you can tell pretty quickly that it's not a put-on. Newsom is genuinely weird and genuinely talented. A harpist with the voice of an infant who writes hyper-literate folk-pop sounds like a potential disaster in theory, but Newsom's attention to craft is nearly unmatched in the indie-world (obviously this massive generalization is fundamentally flawed, but let's try not worry about it).
I'll be honest. I slightly prefer Newsom's first, more conventional album to the sprawling complexity of Ys. In my mind, you can't get much better than a song like "Sadie," which might be (suprise!) her most melancholy composition. Her lyrics are worth quoting at length:
And all day long we talk about mercy: lead me to water lord, I sure am thirsty. Down in the ditch where I nearly served you, up in the clouds where he almost heard you. . . .
This is an old song, these are old blues. This is not my tune, but it's mine to use. . . .
Down where I darn with the milk-eyed mender you and I, and a love so tender, is stretched - on the hoop where I stitch this adage: "Bless our house and its heart so savage."
I first heard Joanna Newsom in my first year painting class. Someone put on "The Book of Right-On" and I was instantly transfixed. Ys. came a couple of years later and seemed to fit perfectly into the more charming aspects of the Winnipeg winter. Of course, it helped to be so close to Assinaboine Park. A good forest to wander through while listening to the tale of "Monkey & Bear." The whole album feels like it belongs to a distant past that's slightly medieval. I'm obviously just skimming the surface.
It's nearly impossible for me to listen to Tame Impala without thinking of the Beatles and getting a bit nostalgic about classic rock. On Innerspeaker, there's no shortage of psychedelic jams; Zeppelin, Hendrix are all invoked here. And surely some of the credit for this big "classic" sound is due to Flaming Lips producer David Fridmann. Remember that supposed garage rock revival in the early 00s? Tame Impala's high octane riffs and melodic vocals wouldn't have sounded out of place during this retro revival, but their Aussie rivals (i.e., the Vines) would have fled for the hills. 
