Best Of 2011 … So Far

Because I’ve fallen way behind on writing album reviews (due to very good and justifiable reasons, I assure you!) I remembered how much I enjoyed writing about music when I finally completed my long overdue Best Of 2010 … The Rest. Still, if there’s anything to be proud of, it’s the fact that I take an absurdly long time to write these Best Of lists – but at least I’m consistent! So, without further ah-doo, I present to you the Best Of 2011 … So Far.

Honorable mentions:

The Civil Wars, Barton Hollow
Let me just say that I have invested a lot of money into this band. I picked up their Record Store Day exclusive, ‘Dance Me To The End Of Love’, and then while perusing the laughable music section in Target, saw their Barton Hollow CD for sale. (So when I say “a lot”, I mean a total of $15. Whatever, that’s a lot.) There was something alluring about them to me, something that drew me in, and Barton Hollow is full of haunted, aching beauty, which I was in need of at the time. Being a fan of all aspects of folk music, I was able to appreciate the organic production and the lovely harmonies of Joy Williams and John Paul White, a modern-day (albeit romantically-unlinked) Richard and Linda Thompson. The aching beauty and dirge-like ballads can be a little overwhelming at times, and they’re balanced out with the rollicking blues crunch of the title track, but ‘Forget Me Not’ straddles that fine line and is a relatively jaunty, straightforward love song. Barton Hollow is a lovely album, and well worth the vast amounts of cash I’ve pumped into the Civil Wars, so it’ll be interesting to watch their career progress.
Defining song: Forget Me Not

Radiohead, The King Of Limbs
Years back, the release of a new Radiohead album was An Event, something that my similar-minded friends and I looked forward to, but I fear that those days have long passed. I’ve gotten more pleasure out of trawling through their back catalog than over their new material, though In Rainbows was an exciting release, simply because of its industry-shattering method of distribution. The King Of Limbs is a long-awaited follow-up, and I was initially underwhelmed. The first half is based on loops, which isn’t entirely surprising, considering the band’s previous paths, but they’re fairly inaccessible. Only as the album progresses do melodies and hooks start to appear, and with the back four, the album finally warms up – though the overall listen is chilling and gloomy, which is good for certain times of the year, but not all times of the year.
Defining song: Give Up The Ghost

Top 10 Albums of 2011 … So Far:

10. Fleet Foxes, Helplessness Blues
It’s taken me awhile to warm up to Fleet Foxes, and I believe that if I had published this list earlier (ie, on time), I would have placed them in the Honorable Mentions section and not on the list itself. When I first heard Helplessness Blues, I thought it was a quaint, if slightly unimpressive, folk album. But the more I listened to it and explored its nuances, the more my opinion changed as I found the songs embedded deeper into my consciousness, and I was able to remember hooks and melodies a lot more. And there are hooks and melodies aplenty here, though the mood is darker, more autumnal, than their eponymous debut album from three years ago; that’s not to say it’s a dour album, as there’s plenty of optimism among the romantic self-doubt and professional uncertainty. The harmonies are beautiful, sounding like a modern-day Simon and Garfunkel, or even Yes (at times) minus the studio wankery but with all of the musical invention. It’s the nooks and crannies of the album that are most appealing, with unusual instruments or chords or phrases tucked away unassumingly; superficially, it’s a simple acoustic folk album, but, upon digging just a little bit deeper, it’s anything but.
Defining song: Battery Kinzie

9. Explosions In The Sky, Take Care, Take Care, Take Care
Four years after the excellent All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone, Explosions In The Sky have returned with another album of swelling, melancholy epics (apart from ‘Trembling Hands’, which runs at 3:30 and is the shortest song to grace one of their albums – not counting EPs or soundtracks), and it would be easy to say it’s a case of the same-old-same-old; there are the familiar crescendoes, the climactic e-bowed guitar drones, the trance-like melodies, and the clattering, thundering drums. But the softs aren’t quite as soft as they were before, and the songs on Take Care, Take Care, Take Care sound like actual, almost conventional compositions. That’s not to say it’s a bad thing, or that this album is just like all the rest; here, Take Care, Take Care, Take Care grows in intensity throughout the album, instead of throughout each song, with ‘Trembling Hands’ a manically raucous composition of drums and chanting. It all leads up to ‘Let Me Back In’, an almost funky 10-minute composition that serves as a perfect climax. Unlike ‘So Long, Lonesome’, which closed their last album, ‘Let Me Back In’ is more optimistic in its finality.
Defining song: Let Me Back In

8. PJ Harvey, Let England Shake
Just as I often mistook XTC for TLC, I too had an issue with PJ Harvey, often mistaking her (name only) for former ’60s pop idol PJ Proby. (Yeah, I dunno.) This probably accounted for my delay in acquainting myself with her music, and I regret this blunder, much like I did the XTC/TLC mix-up; luckily, her new album is so good that it’s allowed me to go back and evaluate her catalog. Let England Shake is a very English record (as its title would suggest), but it’s not nationalistic or stiflingly specific so as to exclude the diversity of fans around the world; it’s more of a history lesson in the futility and senselessness of war, with the Great War serving as a launching pad for her frustrations with the tangled mess we’re in these days. Let England Shake isn’t a pretty album in its subject matter, but as a whole, Harvey has woven a beautiful tapestry with intricate arrangements, the odd, unorthodox instrument – autoharp, zither, brass, and mallets – and musical references dotted throughout (‘Summertime Blues’ in ‘The Words That Maketh Murder’, ‘Instanbul (Not Constantinople)’ as the melody to the title track, and Niney’s ‘Blood And Fire’ in the Iraq War-inspired ‘Written On The Forehead’). It’s not an easy album to get into, but it’s a rewarding listen, and its universal message of ceasing endless, pointless wars is poignant and powerful.
Defining song: The Words That Maketh Murder

7. TV On The Radio, Nine Types Of Light
Back in 2007, I went out to Portland, Oregon, to visit some friends of mine and experience the American northwest. It was an eye-opening experience, and I was determined to move out there, but life and other annoying little things got in the way, and I remained an east coast kid. While out there, in addition to some light hiking and eating at Voodoo Doughnuts, I saw TV On The Radio at a sweaty little venue, the details of which are completely lost to the ether. Needless to say, it started a wavering interest in them; they’re one of those bands that I like when a new album comes out, but forget about otherwise. This means that when their new albums come out, I’m pleasantly surprised; true to form, Nine Types Of Light was a surprise, and a happy one at that, though it’s not a happy album. That’s not to say it’s a downbeat one, or even an unhappy one, but it’s a more romantic, love-fuelled album, with moments of high energy nervousness punctuating the hearts afloat feeling. As I enjoy diversity in albums, the languid, pastoral ‘Killer Crane’ is the highlight of a stellar album, and proves that even without the high energy nervousness, TV On The Radio is a compelling and engaging listen.
Defining song: Killer Crane

6. The Decemberists, The King Is Dead
The days of rock operas are long gone, with linear stories now irrelevant in the age of MP3 players and downloads. Albums as a concept are slowly withering away, replaced by hit singles with a few surrounding throwaways. Yet that didn’t stop the Decemberists from issuing The Crane Wife and The Hazards Of Love, the former which is a loose concept, and the second a denser, more lugubrious listen. I gave the band a nod on the Best Of 2009 list, but, truth be told, I didn’t listen to the album much after that. Not so with The King Is Dead, a more conventional album in that there isn’t a theme running through it; whereas its predecessor was bulky and its songs dense and rooted in British prog-rock and folk, The King Is Dead is lighter and airier, with a hint of Americana. Still, that doesn’t mean the natural Decemberists charm is lacking; there are still stories told in the songs, but they’re a bit tamer; there are still female counterpart vocals, with Gillian Welch providing some much-needed levity on seven of the ten songs; and the production is still slick, despite the ramshackle and homespun approach to recording in a converted barn. The guest musicians – Welch, as mentioned, and R.E.M.’s Peter Buck – threaten to overshadow the album, but the songs are so strong and catchy, with obvious hints toward Wilco, Neil Young, and – yes – R.E.M. that it marks The King Is Dead as their most accessible album in years.
Defining song: All Arise!

5. Amos Lee, Mission Bell
As a fan of folk music, I find that I’m able to distinguish really good folk from really bad folk – and I haven’t even been listening to it all that much as it is. (I’d say I’m a fair-weather folk fan, with an interest in diving deeper and exploring the many nuances of the genre. But I digress.) And so, there’s not much to distinguish obviously talented singer-songwriters like Ray LaMontagne and Son Volt from others, and I thought this would remain true with Amos Lee. Having done a mild bit of research on him for the never-ending saga that is the progress on my Elvis Costello book, I became suitably and mildly interested in his music, and listened to a few things. Mission Bell is the first Amos Lee album I’ve heard in full, and is the perfect soundtrack to an early morning/late afternoon springtime commute on back roads through rural, suburban Philadelphia. There’s a sepia-toned edge to the songs, as if they were thrown off in a barn on a late summer’s day, and are cause for introspection. The roots folk shines through in the ballads, and there’s a host of guest musicians – Lucinda Williams on ‘Clear Blue Eyes’, Willie Nelson on a reprise of ‘El Camino’, Sam Beam (of Iron & Wine) on ‘Violin’ – but the most moving and affecting song is the ragged, uplifting shuffle of ‘Windows Are Rolled Down’, which shows off the power his rich voice possesses. Most of the other songs fail to reach these heights elsewhere, with only ‘Flower’ and ‘Violin’ coming close, but as an album, Mission Bell is an effective collection of good to great songs.
Defining song: Windows Are Rolled Down

4. Thao and Mirah, Thao and Mirah
Partners often share many things together – bank accounts, toothbrushes, lives – but one of the most personally beneficial is the sharing of music, which I’ve been doing since beginning a committed relationship. One of my favorites of my girlfriend has been Mirah, whose You Think It’s Like This But It’s Really Like This has been in regular rotation on my iPod, and I’ve been digging through her extensive back catalog since the beginning of January. So imagine my delight to discover that Mirah and Thao Ngyuen have partnered up to release a pretty outstanding self-titled collaborative album. Being unfamiliar with Thao with the Get Down Stay Down, I came into this with mixed expectations, which were met and exceeded: the duo’s eponymous album is a conjoined twin of their varying musical styles, with Thao’s noisier stuff contrasting Mirah’s quieter, acoustic songs. That’s not to say it doesn’t always work perfectly – ‘Spaced-Out Orbit’ sort of lumbers along pointlessly – but when it does, it’s a wonderful fusion of their talents. The album is bookended by ‘Eleven’, with its clattering electronic drums and relentless chorus, and the gloriously chaotic ‘Squareneck’, both the undisputed highlights of the album. With the first collaborative album out of the way, here’s hoping they come up with an even better follow-up.
Defining song: Eleven

3. R.E.M., Collapse Into Now
As a child of the late ’80s and early ’90s, who got into music just as the gettin’ into it was gettin’ good, you’d think that R.E.M. would be one of those bands that I absolutely adore – and, having been inundated with their music (I remember ‘It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)’, ‘Everybody Hurts’, and ‘Losing My Religion’ being played constantly on the radio), this should have been the case. However, I seemed to have completely missed the boat on them up until a few years ago, when I finally listened to some of their albums and found them to be great. And so it goes with Collapse Into Now, an album that sounds like almost every R.E.M. album before it, but with enough defining characteristics to distinguish it from the rest. Michael Stipe’s voice is a little more weathered – he sounds almost ancient on ‘Walk It Back’ – but Peter Buck’s jangling guitar and Mike Mills’ bass and backing vocals keep the trademark R.E.M. sound familiar. The rockers start to sound samey after awhile, and it’s on the atmospheric tracks – ‘Discoverer’, ‘Blue’, ‘Walk It Back’, and especially ‘Every Day Is Yours To Win’, the highlight of the album – that the band is most successful. Collapse Into Now is the sound of R.E.M. creeping into middle age and finding it oddly accepting and comfortable. (Note: this review was written before their disbandment.)
Defining song: Every Day Is Yours To Win

2. The Low Anthem, Smart Flesh
Who’s surprised that Smart Flesh, the Low Anthem’s follow-up to Oh My God, Charlie Darwin, is on this list? Who’s surprised that Smart Flesh isn’t at number one? If you know me and you raised your hand to the second question, you win a prize! (The prize is continuing to read what I write.) I love Smart Flesh as an album and a collection of songs, and find it to be as cohesive and brilliantly homespun as its predecessor, but I’m not in love with the album. It’s a mellow collection of songs, with the mood set by the spectral opener ‘Ghost Woman Blues’, a song so delicate that it threatens to fall apart if it were to speed up even fractionally, and Ben Knox Miller’s nasal, upper register voice strains on many of the songs, leading the listener to wish some had been transposed down a few keys so that his rough-hewn cords could lend some much-needed oomph to the bottom end. But there’s a quaintness to the album, with its production – at an abandoned pasta sauce factory in Providence, Rhode Island – exposing the gauziness of the songs, to their benefit. Still, there are only two songs here where they get particularly rowdy: ‘Hey, All You Hippies!’, the paean to the mid-1980s politics of Ronald Reagan, and ‘Boeing 747′, an ode to the September 11th attacks. But ‘Apothecary Love’ balances that fine line between delicate and riotous, unweaving a heartbreaking tale of love and loss – subject matters which aren’t unfamiliar to this band.
Defining song: Apothecary Love

1. Paul Simon, So Beautiful Or So What
I often forget about Paul Simon when it comes to favorite songwriters, simply because he releases an album whenever he feels like it; he’s not prolific like Elvis Costello, nor is he a tortured genius, wrapping grand, elaborate plots into theatrical rock, like Pete Townshend or Ray Davies. But considering I place Graceland as the best album ever, that certainly must mean that Simon’s work counts for something. Witness So Beautiful Or So What, an album that honestly caught me off guard – not only that it appeared (I could’ve sworn ‘Getting Ready For Christmas Day’ was a Christmas-only performance on The Colbert Report), but how refreshing and invigorating it sounded. I still rate Surprise as a more accessible album, but So Beautiful is a more delicate and nuanced album, tight and focused in its brevity (38 minutes) and arrangements, with a homespun feel to it that gives it a delightful charm. The most accessible songs are both bluesy, swampy stompers: ‘Getting Ready For Christmas Day’, which opens the album, is based on a 1941 sermon by Reverend J. M. Gates, and the title track, which closes it, is a brazen mission statement, to either appreciate the simple things – or don’t. But it’s ‘Dazzling Blue’, built around drum loops and chock full of romantic and domestic imagery that comes across as charming instead of mawkish, that is the most affecting.
Defining song: Dazzling Blue