that one guy's 2009 music post
2009 Releases
in which that one guy recounts his favourite albums of 2009
1. The BQE by Sufjan Stevens
that one guy's album of 2009
Sufjan Stevens has recently denounced his seriousness in the admittedly ambitious 50 states project. In recent press, this has garnered him a lot of unpleasant labeling. More often than not these claims are further accompanied with Stevens' quote, "What is a song even?" Out of context, this does sound a little trite, but the interview from which it is lifted is actually a fantastic insight into this man's brain; his struggle with the creative process, the worth of the output of makers in general, and information overload in the digital age.
However, none of those talking points really matter. The BQE is 40 minutes of Sufjan Stevens with an orchestra. If that sounds the slightest bit enticing to you, then I can guarantee that you will be positively smitten.
In 2007, the Brooklyn Academy of Music commissioned Sufjan Stevens to write an orchestral tribute to New York's Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Stevens, given artistic freedom in the endeavour, used a Super 8 to film footage of the expressway, which was then projected onto a screen during live, onstage performances of a 36-piece ensemble during the BQE tour.
In October of 2009, Stevens released The BQE as a package consisting of a DVD of the film, a CD of the performance, 40 pages of liner notes, and a 3D View-Master reel. The limited edition vinyl release also includes a comic book depicting the adventures of The Hooper Heroes, the hula hoopers that accompanied the orchestra for its onstage performance.
There are many directions a discussion on the BQE could take. One is the popularity of physical merchandise being used in recent years used to create a more "complete" package. Special editions, collector's sets, preorder incentives - swag that's been bundled with nearly all the big title game releases in the recent past, or the still-young iTunes LP - all have been on the rise as of late. Some interpret these sets as a deterrent from pirating - one can't download a Viewmaster Reel or a Master Chief helmet. But in this case, the box set really is not an addition to the main event - but enhancements to it.
The music itself is truly magnificent. It's exactly what you'd expect from an orchestra penned by Stevens: emotional storytelling with swells of confidence, fear and impatience - everything that Stevens is capable of is depicted in this new (multi-) medium. There's even a stint of noisy electronica for several minutes in one of the movements - a bright and bouncy segment in which I like to imagine Sufjan walking calmly from his station at one end of the stage (which consists of his trumpet, banjo, guitar and drum set, etc.) to another corner which houses a moog, a trusty Casio and a Korg, and then proceeds to hark back to his college days' Enjoy Your Rabbit while the rest of the orchestra sits quietly in their seats until their part begins again.
The BQE paints pictures. It portrays information in the fashion that artists can't help but express. This album is joy, and it sets a precedent that has been proudly displayed in the indie scene over the past decade: When you're the one making it, music can be whatever you want it to be. Sufjan Stevens has taken this mantra and has produced, what I think, a paradigm shift of the industry as a whole. Creative output in its most distilled, this album is, just like Stevens' last one (and the one before that), his apparent endgame. Music as a whole has been moved forward thanks to this album, and, at risk of appearing to gush, I am thankful for it.
2. Aim & Ignite by fun.
The Format is responsible for one of my all time favourite albums, Dog Problems (thanks, keto-galin!). Nate Ruess has a voice that has been unfairly compared to Freddy Mercury; both are notable for pushing their voice to extreme heights, ignoring their falsetto as if they held a grudge against it. But The Format were something new. Something refreshing in the suddenly-stale musical landscape in the mid 2000s.
The Format have since disbanded, but Ruess still had music in him. So he courted members of Anathallo, Steel Train and Jellyfish, and created fun., a powerhouse of a band that exists solely for the joy of music making. That joy, upon listening, is positively palpable in Aim and Ignite.
The record opens with a nervous, self-conscious recount of a failed relationship - a favourite subject of Ruess' - and continues to grow into an anthem of self affirmation and facemelting rock, using his voice as a weapon to combat despair.
"At Least I'm Not As Sad (As I Used To Be)", arguably the strongest track on the record, tells a story of rediscovering a social circle that Ruess has thoroughly grown out of, and acts as another affirmation that he's progressing through life as best as he can manage. The track is presented in the style of a call and response between himself and the tragically hip, hopelessly ironic and perpetually lit-up deadbeats that he's long since left behind. And in "All The Pretty Girls", fun. shakes the walls with an intro that combines all the lush choral fervor of Queen, Journey and Scissor Sisters hooks, and builds a pop song around it - hints of which that are present in nearly every song, but with such glee and determination that it sounds neither tiresome nor borrowed.
Not a single track on this album is skippable - no small feat - and the chemistry among the bandmates is exactly what keeps such a complicated pop album as cohesive as it is. A must-listen for anyone who enjoys being happy.
3. Actor by St. Vincent
Annie Clark started her career in The Polyphonic Spree (of which many people to this day still have their doubts about). She then joined Sufjan Stevens' touring band in 2006. She learned to be happy with her voice, and to be angry with her guitar (not unlike Emily Haines). This year she toured with Andrew Bird, a show which I was fortunate enough to see.
If you haven't heard Clark's work before, and you aren't yet intrigued, then there's a very good chance that you and I are not friends.
Her sophomore album, Actor, was written entirely in GarageBand, and uses a digital (yet organic - we're not talking MIDI, here) orchestra to complement her expert vocals and downright visceral lyrics. "All of my old friends aren't so friendly", she croons in one track, and in another she decrees "I'm a wife in watercolours; I can wash away" - this woman has things to say, and will use everything in her power to say them. Her voice is distinct and controlled in one moment, and then light and playful the next when the songs turn airy. This album is a menagerie of tightly disciplined emotions, all with an apocalyptic overtone - everything may or may not be alright, but Clark is going to keep on smiling anyway.
4. Dark Was the Night
Dark Was the Night is a compilation album assembled for HIV and AIDS awareness. Generally speaking, albums contributed to for political message or gain are usually, in a word, terrible. This is not one of those albums.
In this two-disc record you will find original music from Arcade Fire, Spoon, Iron & Wine, My Morning Jacket, The National, Grizzly Bear, and literally dozens more. In it you will find José González teaming up with The Books to perform a Nick Drake cover. Sufjan Stevens creates a noisy, dirty 10 minute rendition of Castanets' sublime "You Are the Blood". The New Pornographers covers Destroyer. If there isn't a single name on this dangerous and brooding compilation that you recognize from the past five years, then you haven't been paying attention. Some of the superhero-caliber collaborations within this compilation result in pairings so organic, so empowering, one can't help but wonder how some of these powerhouses haven't shared studio space before.
Another notable track on Dark Was the Night is the debut of Riceboy Sleeps, a new project from Sigur Rós singer Jón Þór Birgisson and his boyfriend Alex Somers. Their song, entitled "Happiness", is more or less Sigur Rós drone rock. Utilizing Birgisson's evocative songwriting abilities and combining them with electronic ambiance, "Happiness" will make you sleepy and content as consistently as Hoppípolla can make you cry. Similar to Sigur Rós' apparent mission to fill you with so much incredulous emotion that you can't help but bubble over, Riceboy Sleeps redirects their talents into inducing peace and pleasure.
There is something for everyone on this record - in both quality and quantity. The density and scope of dense musicmaking that occurred to create this compilation is staggering, and all for a charitable organization. Even the weaker, country-flavoured tracks are worth a listen at least once, but after a single run through you'll be picking favourites to play over and over for months to come. If nothing else, this record acts as a primer - a snapshot, perhaps - of independent music today. For the historic significance alone, this record deserves your attention.
5. Bitte Orca by Dirty Projectors
This album is a game changer.
Other people have said things about Bitte Orca already this year, and it's difficult to say what's been hasn't already been lamented on nearly every music blog ever. At times, Bitte Orca is overwhelming; not in the sense that there's too much information being presented at a given time, but that Dirty Projectors' blatant disregard for conventional meter, tonality and presentation are used in such a way that many people have literally never heard before.
Bitte Orca drips with style, and it's obvious that Dirty Projectors on multiple occasions went out of their way to create sounds that were unconventional. The thing about this, though, is that this dangerously high-brow fashion of experimentation resulted in something accessible and magical. Each track is an enterprise into the weird, but not in a "weird for weird's sake" sort of way, or so alienating and off putting that only the 'elite'-most scene dwellers can appreciate (see: early Animal Collective). It's, quite simply, new.
This is certainly a rock album. But at the same time, it's so, so much more.
6. Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix by Phoenix
Broken Social Scene, one of my favourite musical acts of all time, is a 19-member-strong collective of basically every relevant Canadian indie rocker from the past decade. Take a look at their related acts. No, really. Go look. I'll wait.
See? It's exclusively comprised of amazing people, all hailing from the same cultural upbringing and geographic setting. Imagine if every one of the people from high school/college/cult/religious commune that you're still friends with - the folk who you still meet with regularly, the good ones; the "keepers" - were all ridiculously musically gifted. Every one of them. And then you all got on a tour bus together, and made music. Forever. That is Broken Social Scene.
Phoenix has a similarly star-studded background. They hail from Paris, France (which is like Canada, except it's France), and started as the backing band for Air. They then later formed a fleeting band with Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thom Bangalter, the duo more commonly referred to nowadays as Daft fucking Punk. So, France? They've got their contribution to modern music covered. Good job, France. You did good.
Phoenix is, and I know I've been saying this word a lot in these reviews (one might even see a common theme in music that I enjoy), joy. I started off with only two songs of theirs in my iTunes library. The first was "Everything is Everything", which, if I recall correctly, I obtained through some file sharing service or another while searching for the Lauryn Hill song of the same name. The second, which I got from a friend, was Consolation Prizes. Both of these tracks would continue to be my sole exposure to Phoenix for, well, years.
Then, after noticing that Consolation Prizes had well over 50 listens in a few months' time, I decided on a whim to allow iTunes to complete my album.
Upon the first listen of It's Never Been Like That, I immediately purchased their entire discography.
Needless to say, this French incarnation of happy on guitars (or is it happy with guitars? or perhaps happy, because I have guitars?) has been an endless source of joy for me, and their latest, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, has only added to their library of pure, charming happiness. From the party-demanding bounciness of "Lisztomania" to the truly awesome, tension-filled 6 minutes in "Love Like a Sunset" followed by 60-seconds of blissfully cloudy release, every single track has something to make your hips move.
Their live show was pretty rad, too.
7. de Blob OST by John Guscott
de Blob is a charming video game for the Wii. The premise is this: black puddles of ink in adorable, itty bitty totalitarian police hats (dubbed as INKT) invade a world inhabited by equally-adorable globules of coloured ink. The INKT then proceed to fire up giant vacuums that steal all the colour in the world of Veridian Chroma City. And then, out of nowhere, a mythical, sasquatchian being known only as de Blob shows up, smashes all the vials of colour, rolls around in it like a dog in a pile of shit, and spreads colour back to the world again.
Why should you care? Because the soundtrack for this game is phenomenal. John Guscott created a multilayered big band, acid fusion jazz composition for each environment, and each layer is activated depending on the colour that de Blob is painting the town with. Get some red on a building, and a squeaky saxophone plays. Roll over some yellow? Now you're orange, and each paint stroke sounds a voice track. Roll over blue next, and de Blob turns brown: turntables. Without this gameplay element, de Blob would not have held my interest. Sometime after I annihilated this game to absolute completion, the soundtrack was released on Amazon. I bought it as soon as it was announced (The soundtrack was released in December of 2008, but since everyone had already done up their albums-of-the-year lists by then I figured it'd be considered late enough to NO YOU'RE IN THE WRONG LIST). It's got New Orleans jazz reminiscent of the also-notable Voodoo Vince, and lyrical trumpets in the same vein as Mark Ronson's rearrangements of 2007 hits. If Cake ever scored a video game, it would probably sound like something this.
8. Here We Go Magic
Take the chillest tracks of Animal Collective, combine them with a dash of Silversun Pickups and you've got Luke Temple's Here We Go Magic. The first song, "Only Pieces", starts out with tribal drums hammering beneath the buzzing steel strings of an acoustic guitar. It's nervous and awkward at first, but once the vocals kick on ("What's the use of dying, if I don't know when?") you'll come to realize that this album is much, much greater than the sum of its parts.
Temple says this album was created in his bedroom, and at times it shows - the endearing fuzz of lo-fi microphones is present in most of the tracks, proudly announcing its homegrown pedigree, but not to the point of it sounding unprofessional. That is to say, this approach to recording leads his artfully distorted sounds to act more as a grain-filter on film than a poorly lit soundstage. It adds to the aesthetic in a sleepy, murky way that further shapes the calculated sounds of this each track. Glittery white noise and synthetic drones reach out for minutes at a time throughout the record, breaking up the jingle-jangle of glitterpop singles sprinkled about the album.
The number one track that merits your time is, without a doubt, "Tunnelvision", an at once sleepy and chaotic march begging you to hang on to each sustain of Temple's chorus of not-unpleasantly-breathy falsetto. That said, the mixing of each track to the next makes Here We Go Magic a short morsel of auditory delight that begs to be consumed in one sitting.
9. Ordinary Riches by Company of Thieves
A few years ago, I saw Annuals (another favourite of mine) live; they opened for Minus the Bear, but Annuals absolutely stole the show. My head was swimming for days afterward - passion, talent, heart and chemistry abound. This season, I saw they were still, inexplicably, an opening band.
Despite Annuals having two albums and a handful of EPs to their senior, the headlining band they were passing through my town with was newcomer Company of Thieves. Intrigued (and not wanting to go into a show cold), I checked them out. Their big hit single, according to The Internets, was called "Oscar Wilde". Off to a great start, I thought to myself. So, naturally, I checked out their video, and was hooked. I went from knowing nothing at all about them to wanting desperately to give them my money in under 10 minutes.
God Bless The Internet.
Ordinary Riches is a replete, guitar-heavy rock album with lyrics that are both intelligent and pop-worthy. Oscar Wilde's hook, "We are all our own devil", showcases Genevieve Schatz's nuanced sustains and crooning bellows. Her range is incredible, and is skillfully complemented by the lush, politely distorted guitars reminiscent of Blonde Redhead's 23. It seems like an insult to call "Oscar Wilde" an earworm, but that's what it is - in fact, every song on Ordinary Riches will get into your head. What earns it a spot in my top ten albums of the year, though, is that you'll be glad that they did.
If only I didn't have work that day after all. That would have been one hell of a show.
10. The Hazards of Love
The Decemberists are still relevant. Not in the same way that they were relevant when they first started, mind you; The Decemberists of today are far and away a different band than they were in the days of Her Majesty. Their folk sensibilities are still present - it's in their blood, what the band was built upon - but using tweedy niche appeal as their sole delivery method is all but an anachronism from years past.
The Decemberists have grown up, and boy do they have a story to tell.
The Hazards of Love is a rock opera. It begins with exposition, climaxes with conflict, and resolves in sorrow. The Hazards of Love, which one could deduce from the title, is not a happy story. Meloy et al borrow talent from Lavender Diamond, My Brightest Diamond and My Morning Jacket (My Lavender Diamond Jacket?) to sing a multi-character narrative. The opener sets the tone of the whole record with dark swelling ambiance - wooden drums, organs and anxious cymbal taps crescendoing towards the strike of the first track: a bold, triumphant declaration of the chastity of Margaret, the apparent heroine of the tale. Meloy bellows out the exposition required to get the ball rolling, and once the momentum is built up, it doesn't stop until everyone has had their say.
This transformation for The Decemberists has been an apparent one - Hazards is more accessible than their humble twee beginnings, and much more mature. Over the past decade they have developed their tools of trade, and in Hazards use each one to their fullest extent to tell a rich narrative. Each song in the album stands on its own without explicit context, but like The Crane Wife before it, they benefit from the framing of the record as a whole. It's loud, cathartic rock with substance. One of the year's best.
2009 Discoveries
in which that one guy is late to the party
1. For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver (2008)
Justin Vernor has created what might be the most sincere album of all time. There's the sincere that lives dangerously to the edge of cliche (see: Damien Rice's O, in which Rice bares his soul with lines like "We might kiss when we are alone, when nobody's watching"), and there's sincerity in flawed performances (see: Bright Eyes, Owen). Vernor, however, has created a record that was crafted entirely in a vacuum: while recovering from a liver complication, a breakup of a band and of a relationship, Vernor locked himself in a cabin in the woods of Wisconsin, where For Emma, Forever Ago was born. This sincerity - this genuine, visceral view into his recesses - is apparent in each song recorded. His delicate, almost apologetic falsetto sails over a chorus of acoustic guitars, bringing forth stoic acceptance and sorrow about the world around him, creating the most beautiful indie-folk album I've ever heard.
In "re: Stacks", the closer of the album, he pops lines like:
There's a black crow sitting across from me;
his wiry legs are crossed
And he's dangling my keys;
he even fakes a toss
Whatever could it be
That has brought me to this loss?
The imagery present in every (and I mean every) track is so profound, it's enough to set you reeling if you're caught off guard. His meek presentation is bolstered only when he has a point to make - such as in the transient and overwhelming "Creature Fear", or the apprehensively incredulous "Flume" ("Sky is womb, and she's the moon"). This album is an event, and I'm most sad about discovering it a year late because, quite frankly, that's an entire year that could have been spent listening to it even more.
2. Stateless (2007)
The first track in Stateless' eponymous and only full-length release to date starts out stark and atypical: a piano strikes a single dark chord, and a shamelessly woeful voice sings out: "Woke up with a start, your voice in my head last night; Now I can't remember a single word". The vague, ambiguous beat solidifies with the delivery of the next line, "Images come back, flashing like a broken light; Everything has gotten a little blurred", then a dirty snare roll introduces one of the sickest drum hooks I've ever heard and suddenly I'm listening to hip-hop in 7/4 time.
The rest of the album does not disappoint.
With all the intensity of Massive Attack, the soul of Buddy Guy and a drummer the likes of which I've never before had the pleasure of witnessing, Stateless came out of nowhere and completely dominated my music library for weeks. Their psychedelic turntables and liberal use of deep vibraphones in "Radiokiller" shows just how committed they are to filling the room with heavy, penetrating sounds that beg to be blasted at 11. Stateless have created a name for themselves in England, and with more widespread exposure, hopefully they will continue to make music for many, many years to come.
3. Loney, Noir. by Loney, Dear. (2005)
Everybody has a go-to song for when they're feeling down. If you want to cry it out, Do You Realize?? by The Flaming Lips is a surefire way to start the waterworks. Alternately, you can pick anything from Sigur Rós's discography.
If the goal is to cheer up, one might bust out some Beach Boys or Matt and Kim (protip: if you need to get out of a funk fast, I highly recommend "Island In the Sun" by Weezer - just try to be unhappy while singing "And it makes me feel so fine, I can't control my brain").
This past year, if I started to hate life, people, or the world in general, my never-fail remedy was Loney, Noir.
The whole album.
Sweden-born Emil Svanängen's self-released festival of happy makes me grin - the kind that grin that starts small and grows and grows until your whole face is contorted into a goofy, almost guiltily indulgent, gleeful reverence that stays until your cheeks hurt. Flutes, clarinets, guitars and strings all accompany Svanängen in "Sinister in a State of Hope": his wispy tenors and bouncy handclaps are discreetly ushered in, until the whole song swells into a flurry of na na nas, tambourines and downright glee. Basically this album is The Polyphonic Spree on speed.
"Bubbly" isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.
4. Tones of Town by Field Music (2007)
Fiend Music is one of those acts whose work requires a little bit of concentration upon first listen. They aren't trying as hard to impress as, say, Battles, Minus the Bear or other math-rock enthusiasts. But very seldom to they stick to a single meter in one song - and when they do, they're sure to change the tempo at least once or twice. At times, it seems like they ran out of material for a full-fledged track, so they just started playing something else entirely for another couple of minutes like they do in the first song of Tones of Town, "Give It, Lose It, Take It".
Luckily for them - and, more importantly, for us - this is a very, very good thing.
Tones of Town is a scant half hour of hit after hit: powerfully poppy rock songs enlist the help of clean electric guitars, snappy drums and delightful vocal harmonies. The vocals shine in the restless "She Can Do What She Wants", with the snare snapping an itchy violin to attention. A Menomena-esque two-tone piano walk introduces "A House Is Not a Home" before a guitar slides in to the line "If time is tight it's right to stay another night", a mouthful of an invitation followed by punctuation in the form of a chirpy woodblock throughout the rest of the song.
Field Music have a simple formula: create a hook, attach it to another equally catch hook, and repeat until you have an impenetrable chainmail of keen and memorable rock.
5. Ghost by Radical Face (2007)
This entire album feels like the backdrop for a precious indie film, to be played while a shiny, precociously geeky (yet independent) girl runs in the snow with their lanky love interest trailing behind. Sleepy rock swells and ebbs like an orchestra, but with a bit more urgency - as if the musical cues are being dictated by the happenings on a screen somewhere. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, as it results in a busy, sweeping album that is an exercise in less-than-subtle ambiance. Ben Cooper uses his guitar to carry drone-y white noise, creating rainy atmospheres of introspection.
The first track is almost entirely sounds of a train traveling on rails, which sets the tone for the following song, "Welcome Home, Son", where childlike wonder relishes in the little things that make home, well, welcoming. Hand claps and choruses build and give way to strings and meek observations of sheets on clotheslines, then the soaring arrangement returns to illustrate joy and reverence. The album goes downhill from there, but only a little - but the finesse and heart present in its presentation was enough to keep me coming back to it all year.
2009 In Seasons
in which that one guy recounts the year, quarterly, in singles he enjoyed
Winter
Things I Did When I Was Dead by No Age
Blood Bank by Bon Iver
Spring
Naturally by Middle Distance Runner
Funeral Face by Suburban Kids With Biblical Names
Summer
THE SUN SMELLS TOO LOUD by Mogwai
Fences by Phoenix
Fall
Rainbow Flows by Husky Rescue
Another Universe by Golden Silvers
2009 Awards
in which that one guy decides who gets what without explicitly explaining why
Mashup of the Year
Single Foxes (Put A Wood On It)
by The Hood Internet
(Beyoncé + Fleet Foxes)
Cover of the Year
Cello Song
by The Books and José González
(originally by Nick Drake)
Dark Was the Night
Remix of the Year
Daylight (Stic.Man Remix)
by Matt and Kim
Best Use of Autotune
Woods
by Bon Iver
2009 Song of the Year
in which that one guy tells you which song he liked the very most from the past year
Big Red Machine
by Justin Vernon & Aaron Dessner
Dark Was the Night
tl;dr: that one guy is still gay for sufjan, happy music, and thesauruses
in which that one guy recounts his favourite albums of 2009
1. The BQE by Sufjan Stevens
that one guy's album of 2009
Sufjan Stevens has recently denounced his seriousness in the admittedly ambitious 50 states project. In recent press, this has garnered him a lot of unpleasant labeling. More often than not these claims are further accompanied with Stevens' quote, "What is a song even?" Out of context, this does sound a little trite, but the interview from which it is lifted is actually a fantastic insight into this man's brain; his struggle with the creative process, the worth of the output of makers in general, and information overload in the digital age.
However, none of those talking points really matter. The BQE is 40 minutes of Sufjan Stevens with an orchestra. If that sounds the slightest bit enticing to you, then I can guarantee that you will be positively smitten.
In 2007, the Brooklyn Academy of Music commissioned Sufjan Stevens to write an orchestral tribute to New York's Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Stevens, given artistic freedom in the endeavour, used a Super 8 to film footage of the expressway, which was then projected onto a screen during live, onstage performances of a 36-piece ensemble during the BQE tour.
In October of 2009, Stevens released The BQE as a package consisting of a DVD of the film, a CD of the performance, 40 pages of liner notes, and a 3D View-Master reel. The limited edition vinyl release also includes a comic book depicting the adventures of The Hooper Heroes, the hula hoopers that accompanied the orchestra for its onstage performance.
There are many directions a discussion on the BQE could take. One is the popularity of physical merchandise being used in recent years used to create a more "complete" package. Special editions, collector's sets, preorder incentives - swag that's been bundled with nearly all the big title game releases in the recent past, or the still-young iTunes LP - all have been on the rise as of late. Some interpret these sets as a deterrent from pirating - one can't download a Viewmaster Reel or a Master Chief helmet. But in this case, the box set really is not an addition to the main event - but enhancements to it.
The music itself is truly magnificent. It's exactly what you'd expect from an orchestra penned by Stevens: emotional storytelling with swells of confidence, fear and impatience - everything that Stevens is capable of is depicted in this new (multi-) medium. There's even a stint of noisy electronica for several minutes in one of the movements - a bright and bouncy segment in which I like to imagine Sufjan walking calmly from his station at one end of the stage (which consists of his trumpet, banjo, guitar and drum set, etc.) to another corner which houses a moog, a trusty Casio and a Korg, and then proceeds to hark back to his college days' Enjoy Your Rabbit while the rest of the orchestra sits quietly in their seats until their part begins again.
The BQE paints pictures. It portrays information in the fashion that artists can't help but express. This album is joy, and it sets a precedent that has been proudly displayed in the indie scene over the past decade: When you're the one making it, music can be whatever you want it to be. Sufjan Stevens has taken this mantra and has produced, what I think, a paradigm shift of the industry as a whole. Creative output in its most distilled, this album is, just like Stevens' last one (and the one before that), his apparent endgame. Music as a whole has been moved forward thanks to this album, and, at risk of appearing to gush, I am thankful for it.
2. Aim & Ignite by fun.
The Format is responsible for one of my all time favourite albums, Dog Problems (thanks, keto-galin!). Nate Ruess has a voice that has been unfairly compared to Freddy Mercury; both are notable for pushing their voice to extreme heights, ignoring their falsetto as if they held a grudge against it. But The Format were something new. Something refreshing in the suddenly-stale musical landscape in the mid 2000s.
The Format have since disbanded, but Ruess still had music in him. So he courted members of Anathallo, Steel Train and Jellyfish, and created fun., a powerhouse of a band that exists solely for the joy of music making. That joy, upon listening, is positively palpable in Aim and Ignite.
The record opens with a nervous, self-conscious recount of a failed relationship - a favourite subject of Ruess' - and continues to grow into an anthem of self affirmation and facemelting rock, using his voice as a weapon to combat despair.
"At Least I'm Not As Sad (As I Used To Be)", arguably the strongest track on the record, tells a story of rediscovering a social circle that Ruess has thoroughly grown out of, and acts as another affirmation that he's progressing through life as best as he can manage. The track is presented in the style of a call and response between himself and the tragically hip, hopelessly ironic and perpetually lit-up deadbeats that he's long since left behind. And in "All The Pretty Girls", fun. shakes the walls with an intro that combines all the lush choral fervor of Queen, Journey and Scissor Sisters hooks, and builds a pop song around it - hints of which that are present in nearly every song, but with such glee and determination that it sounds neither tiresome nor borrowed.
Not a single track on this album is skippable - no small feat - and the chemistry among the bandmates is exactly what keeps such a complicated pop album as cohesive as it is. A must-listen for anyone who enjoys being happy.
3. Actor by St. Vincent
Annie Clark started her career in The Polyphonic Spree (of which many people to this day still have their doubts about). She then joined Sufjan Stevens' touring band in 2006. She learned to be happy with her voice, and to be angry with her guitar (not unlike Emily Haines). This year she toured with Andrew Bird, a show which I was fortunate enough to see.
If you haven't heard Clark's work before, and you aren't yet intrigued, then there's a very good chance that you and I are not friends.
Her sophomore album, Actor, was written entirely in GarageBand, and uses a digital (yet organic - we're not talking MIDI, here) orchestra to complement her expert vocals and downright visceral lyrics. "All of my old friends aren't so friendly", she croons in one track, and in another she decrees "I'm a wife in watercolours; I can wash away" - this woman has things to say, and will use everything in her power to say them. Her voice is distinct and controlled in one moment, and then light and playful the next when the songs turn airy. This album is a menagerie of tightly disciplined emotions, all with an apocalyptic overtone - everything may or may not be alright, but Clark is going to keep on smiling anyway.
4. Dark Was the Night
Dark Was the Night is a compilation album assembled for HIV and AIDS awareness. Generally speaking, albums contributed to for political message or gain are usually, in a word, terrible. This is not one of those albums.
In this two-disc record you will find original music from Arcade Fire, Spoon, Iron & Wine, My Morning Jacket, The National, Grizzly Bear, and literally dozens more. In it you will find José González teaming up with The Books to perform a Nick Drake cover. Sufjan Stevens creates a noisy, dirty 10 minute rendition of Castanets' sublime "You Are the Blood". The New Pornographers covers Destroyer. If there isn't a single name on this dangerous and brooding compilation that you recognize from the past five years, then you haven't been paying attention. Some of the superhero-caliber collaborations within this compilation result in pairings so organic, so empowering, one can't help but wonder how some of these powerhouses haven't shared studio space before.
Another notable track on Dark Was the Night is the debut of Riceboy Sleeps, a new project from Sigur Rós singer Jón Þór Birgisson and his boyfriend Alex Somers. Their song, entitled "Happiness", is more or less Sigur Rós drone rock. Utilizing Birgisson's evocative songwriting abilities and combining them with electronic ambiance, "Happiness" will make you sleepy and content as consistently as Hoppípolla can make you cry. Similar to Sigur Rós' apparent mission to fill you with so much incredulous emotion that you can't help but bubble over, Riceboy Sleeps redirects their talents into inducing peace and pleasure.
There is something for everyone on this record - in both quality and quantity. The density and scope of dense musicmaking that occurred to create this compilation is staggering, and all for a charitable organization. Even the weaker, country-flavoured tracks are worth a listen at least once, but after a single run through you'll be picking favourites to play over and over for months to come. If nothing else, this record acts as a primer - a snapshot, perhaps - of independent music today. For the historic significance alone, this record deserves your attention.
5. Bitte Orca by Dirty Projectors
This album is a game changer.
Other people have said things about Bitte Orca already this year, and it's difficult to say what's been hasn't already been lamented on nearly every music blog ever. At times, Bitte Orca is overwhelming; not in the sense that there's too much information being presented at a given time, but that Dirty Projectors' blatant disregard for conventional meter, tonality and presentation are used in such a way that many people have literally never heard before.
Bitte Orca drips with style, and it's obvious that Dirty Projectors on multiple occasions went out of their way to create sounds that were unconventional. The thing about this, though, is that this dangerously high-brow fashion of experimentation resulted in something accessible and magical. Each track is an enterprise into the weird, but not in a "weird for weird's sake" sort of way, or so alienating and off putting that only the 'elite'-most scene dwellers can appreciate (see: early Animal Collective). It's, quite simply, new.
This is certainly a rock album. But at the same time, it's so, so much more.
6. Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix by Phoenix
Broken Social Scene, one of my favourite musical acts of all time, is a 19-member-strong collective of basically every relevant Canadian indie rocker from the past decade. Take a look at their related acts. No, really. Go look. I'll wait.
See? It's exclusively comprised of amazing people, all hailing from the same cultural upbringing and geographic setting. Imagine if every one of the people from high school/college/cult/religious commune that you're still friends with - the folk who you still meet with regularly, the good ones; the "keepers" - were all ridiculously musically gifted. Every one of them. And then you all got on a tour bus together, and made music. Forever. That is Broken Social Scene.
Phoenix has a similarly star-studded background. They hail from Paris, France (which is like Canada, except it's France), and started as the backing band for Air. They then later formed a fleeting band with Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thom Bangalter, the duo more commonly referred to nowadays as Daft fucking Punk. So, France? They've got their contribution to modern music covered. Good job, France. You did good.
Phoenix is, and I know I've been saying this word a lot in these reviews (one might even see a common theme in music that I enjoy), joy. I started off with only two songs of theirs in my iTunes library. The first was "Everything is Everything", which, if I recall correctly, I obtained through some file sharing service or another while searching for the Lauryn Hill song of the same name. The second, which I got from a friend, was Consolation Prizes. Both of these tracks would continue to be my sole exposure to Phoenix for, well, years.
Then, after noticing that Consolation Prizes had well over 50 listens in a few months' time, I decided on a whim to allow iTunes to complete my album.
Upon the first listen of It's Never Been Like That, I immediately purchased their entire discography.
Needless to say, this French incarnation of happy on guitars (or is it happy with guitars? or perhaps happy, because I have guitars?) has been an endless source of joy for me, and their latest, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, has only added to their library of pure, charming happiness. From the party-demanding bounciness of "Lisztomania" to the truly awesome, tension-filled 6 minutes in "Love Like a Sunset" followed by 60-seconds of blissfully cloudy release, every single track has something to make your hips move.
Their live show was pretty rad, too.
7. de Blob OST by John Guscott
de Blob is a charming video game for the Wii. The premise is this: black puddles of ink in adorable, itty bitty totalitarian police hats (dubbed as INKT) invade a world inhabited by equally-adorable globules of coloured ink. The INKT then proceed to fire up giant vacuums that steal all the colour in the world of Veridian Chroma City. And then, out of nowhere, a mythical, sasquatchian being known only as de Blob shows up, smashes all the vials of colour, rolls around in it like a dog in a pile of shit, and spreads colour back to the world again.
Why should you care? Because the soundtrack for this game is phenomenal. John Guscott created a multilayered big band, acid fusion jazz composition for each environment, and each layer is activated depending on the colour that de Blob is painting the town with. Get some red on a building, and a squeaky saxophone plays. Roll over some yellow? Now you're orange, and each paint stroke sounds a voice track. Roll over blue next, and de Blob turns brown: turntables. Without this gameplay element, de Blob would not have held my interest. Sometime after I annihilated this game to absolute completion, the soundtrack was released on Amazon. I bought it as soon as it was announced (The soundtrack was released in December of 2008, but since everyone had already done up their albums-of-the-year lists by then I figured it'd be considered late enough to NO YOU'RE IN THE WRONG LIST). It's got New Orleans jazz reminiscent of the also-notable Voodoo Vince, and lyrical trumpets in the same vein as Mark Ronson's rearrangements of 2007 hits. If Cake ever scored a video game, it would probably sound like something this.
8. Here We Go Magic
Take the chillest tracks of Animal Collective, combine them with a dash of Silversun Pickups and you've got Luke Temple's Here We Go Magic. The first song, "Only Pieces", starts out with tribal drums hammering beneath the buzzing steel strings of an acoustic guitar. It's nervous and awkward at first, but once the vocals kick on ("What's the use of dying, if I don't know when?") you'll come to realize that this album is much, much greater than the sum of its parts.
Temple says this album was created in his bedroom, and at times it shows - the endearing fuzz of lo-fi microphones is present in most of the tracks, proudly announcing its homegrown pedigree, but not to the point of it sounding unprofessional. That is to say, this approach to recording leads his artfully distorted sounds to act more as a grain-filter on film than a poorly lit soundstage. It adds to the aesthetic in a sleepy, murky way that further shapes the calculated sounds of this each track. Glittery white noise and synthetic drones reach out for minutes at a time throughout the record, breaking up the jingle-jangle of glitterpop singles sprinkled about the album.
The number one track that merits your time is, without a doubt, "Tunnelvision", an at once sleepy and chaotic march begging you to hang on to each sustain of Temple's chorus of not-unpleasantly-breathy falsetto. That said, the mixing of each track to the next makes Here We Go Magic a short morsel of auditory delight that begs to be consumed in one sitting.
9. Ordinary Riches by Company of Thieves
A few years ago, I saw Annuals (another favourite of mine) live; they opened for Minus the Bear, but Annuals absolutely stole the show. My head was swimming for days afterward - passion, talent, heart and chemistry abound. This season, I saw they were still, inexplicably, an opening band.
Despite Annuals having two albums and a handful of EPs to their senior, the headlining band they were passing through my town with was newcomer Company of Thieves. Intrigued (and not wanting to go into a show cold), I checked them out. Their big hit single, according to The Internets, was called "Oscar Wilde". Off to a great start, I thought to myself. So, naturally, I checked out their video, and was hooked. I went from knowing nothing at all about them to wanting desperately to give them my money in under 10 minutes.
God Bless The Internet.
Ordinary Riches is a replete, guitar-heavy rock album with lyrics that are both intelligent and pop-worthy. Oscar Wilde's hook, "We are all our own devil", showcases Genevieve Schatz's nuanced sustains and crooning bellows. Her range is incredible, and is skillfully complemented by the lush, politely distorted guitars reminiscent of Blonde Redhead's 23. It seems like an insult to call "Oscar Wilde" an earworm, but that's what it is - in fact, every song on Ordinary Riches will get into your head. What earns it a spot in my top ten albums of the year, though, is that you'll be glad that they did.
If only I didn't have work that day after all. That would have been one hell of a show.
10. The Hazards of Love
The Decemberists are still relevant. Not in the same way that they were relevant when they first started, mind you; The Decemberists of today are far and away a different band than they were in the days of Her Majesty. Their folk sensibilities are still present - it's in their blood, what the band was built upon - but using tweedy niche appeal as their sole delivery method is all but an anachronism from years past.
The Decemberists have grown up, and boy do they have a story to tell.
The Hazards of Love is a rock opera. It begins with exposition, climaxes with conflict, and resolves in sorrow. The Hazards of Love, which one could deduce from the title, is not a happy story. Meloy et al borrow talent from Lavender Diamond, My Brightest Diamond and My Morning Jacket (My Lavender Diamond Jacket?) to sing a multi-character narrative. The opener sets the tone of the whole record with dark swelling ambiance - wooden drums, organs and anxious cymbal taps crescendoing towards the strike of the first track: a bold, triumphant declaration of the chastity of Margaret, the apparent heroine of the tale. Meloy bellows out the exposition required to get the ball rolling, and once the momentum is built up, it doesn't stop until everyone has had their say.
This transformation for The Decemberists has been an apparent one - Hazards is more accessible than their humble twee beginnings, and much more mature. Over the past decade they have developed their tools of trade, and in Hazards use each one to their fullest extent to tell a rich narrative. Each song in the album stands on its own without explicit context, but like The Crane Wife before it, they benefit from the framing of the record as a whole. It's loud, cathartic rock with substance. One of the year's best.
2009 Discoveries
in which that one guy is late to the party
1. For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver (2008)
Justin Vernor has created what might be the most sincere album of all time. There's the sincere that lives dangerously to the edge of cliche (see: Damien Rice's O, in which Rice bares his soul with lines like "We might kiss when we are alone, when nobody's watching"), and there's sincerity in flawed performances (see: Bright Eyes, Owen). Vernor, however, has created a record that was crafted entirely in a vacuum: while recovering from a liver complication, a breakup of a band and of a relationship, Vernor locked himself in a cabin in the woods of Wisconsin, where For Emma, Forever Ago was born. This sincerity - this genuine, visceral view into his recesses - is apparent in each song recorded. His delicate, almost apologetic falsetto sails over a chorus of acoustic guitars, bringing forth stoic acceptance and sorrow about the world around him, creating the most beautiful indie-folk album I've ever heard.
In "re: Stacks", the closer of the album, he pops lines like:
There's a black crow sitting across from me;
his wiry legs are crossed
And he's dangling my keys;
he even fakes a toss
Whatever could it be
That has brought me to this loss?
The imagery present in every (and I mean every) track is so profound, it's enough to set you reeling if you're caught off guard. His meek presentation is bolstered only when he has a point to make - such as in the transient and overwhelming "Creature Fear", or the apprehensively incredulous "Flume" ("Sky is womb, and she's the moon"). This album is an event, and I'm most sad about discovering it a year late because, quite frankly, that's an entire year that could have been spent listening to it even more.
2. Stateless (2007)
The first track in Stateless' eponymous and only full-length release to date starts out stark and atypical: a piano strikes a single dark chord, and a shamelessly woeful voice sings out: "Woke up with a start, your voice in my head last night; Now I can't remember a single word". The vague, ambiguous beat solidifies with the delivery of the next line, "Images come back, flashing like a broken light; Everything has gotten a little blurred", then a dirty snare roll introduces one of the sickest drum hooks I've ever heard and suddenly I'm listening to hip-hop in 7/4 time.
The rest of the album does not disappoint.
With all the intensity of Massive Attack, the soul of Buddy Guy and a drummer the likes of which I've never before had the pleasure of witnessing, Stateless came out of nowhere and completely dominated my music library for weeks. Their psychedelic turntables and liberal use of deep vibraphones in "Radiokiller" shows just how committed they are to filling the room with heavy, penetrating sounds that beg to be blasted at 11. Stateless have created a name for themselves in England, and with more widespread exposure, hopefully they will continue to make music for many, many years to come.
3. Loney, Noir. by Loney, Dear. (2005)
Everybody has a go-to song for when they're feeling down. If you want to cry it out, Do You Realize?? by The Flaming Lips is a surefire way to start the waterworks. Alternately, you can pick anything from Sigur Rós's discography.
If the goal is to cheer up, one might bust out some Beach Boys or Matt and Kim (protip: if you need to get out of a funk fast, I highly recommend "Island In the Sun" by Weezer - just try to be unhappy while singing "And it makes me feel so fine, I can't control my brain").
This past year, if I started to hate life, people, or the world in general, my never-fail remedy was Loney, Noir.
The whole album.
Sweden-born Emil Svanängen's self-released festival of happy makes me grin - the kind that grin that starts small and grows and grows until your whole face is contorted into a goofy, almost guiltily indulgent, gleeful reverence that stays until your cheeks hurt. Flutes, clarinets, guitars and strings all accompany Svanängen in "Sinister in a State of Hope": his wispy tenors and bouncy handclaps are discreetly ushered in, until the whole song swells into a flurry of na na nas, tambourines and downright glee. Basically this album is The Polyphonic Spree on speed.
"Bubbly" isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.
4. Tones of Town by Field Music (2007)
Fiend Music is one of those acts whose work requires a little bit of concentration upon first listen. They aren't trying as hard to impress as, say, Battles, Minus the Bear or other math-rock enthusiasts. But very seldom to they stick to a single meter in one song - and when they do, they're sure to change the tempo at least once or twice. At times, it seems like they ran out of material for a full-fledged track, so they just started playing something else entirely for another couple of minutes like they do in the first song of Tones of Town, "Give It, Lose It, Take It".
Luckily for them - and, more importantly, for us - this is a very, very good thing.
Tones of Town is a scant half hour of hit after hit: powerfully poppy rock songs enlist the help of clean electric guitars, snappy drums and delightful vocal harmonies. The vocals shine in the restless "She Can Do What She Wants", with the snare snapping an itchy violin to attention. A Menomena-esque two-tone piano walk introduces "A House Is Not a Home" before a guitar slides in to the line "If time is tight it's right to stay another night", a mouthful of an invitation followed by punctuation in the form of a chirpy woodblock throughout the rest of the song.
Field Music have a simple formula: create a hook, attach it to another equally catch hook, and repeat until you have an impenetrable chainmail of keen and memorable rock.
5. Ghost by Radical Face (2007)
This entire album feels like the backdrop for a precious indie film, to be played while a shiny, precociously geeky (yet independent) girl runs in the snow with their lanky love interest trailing behind. Sleepy rock swells and ebbs like an orchestra, but with a bit more urgency - as if the musical cues are being dictated by the happenings on a screen somewhere. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, as it results in a busy, sweeping album that is an exercise in less-than-subtle ambiance. Ben Cooper uses his guitar to carry drone-y white noise, creating rainy atmospheres of introspection.
The first track is almost entirely sounds of a train traveling on rails, which sets the tone for the following song, "Welcome Home, Son", where childlike wonder relishes in the little things that make home, well, welcoming. Hand claps and choruses build and give way to strings and meek observations of sheets on clotheslines, then the soaring arrangement returns to illustrate joy and reverence. The album goes downhill from there, but only a little - but the finesse and heart present in its presentation was enough to keep me coming back to it all year.
2009 In Seasons
in which that one guy recounts the year, quarterly, in singles he enjoyed
Winter
Things I Did When I Was Dead by No Age
Blood Bank by Bon Iver
Spring
Naturally by Middle Distance Runner
Funeral Face by Suburban Kids With Biblical Names
Summer
THE SUN SMELLS TOO LOUD by Mogwai
Fences by Phoenix
Fall
Rainbow Flows by Husky Rescue
Another Universe by Golden Silvers
2009 Awards
in which that one guy decides who gets what without explicitly explaining why
Mashup of the Year
Single Foxes (Put A Wood On It)
by The Hood Internet
(Beyoncé + Fleet Foxes)
Cover of the Year
Cello Song
by The Books and José González
(originally by Nick Drake)
Dark Was the Night
Remix of the Year
Daylight (Stic.Man Remix)
by Matt and Kim
Best Use of Autotune
Woods
by Bon Iver
2009 Song of the Year
in which that one guy tells you which song he liked the very most from the past year
Big Red Machine
by Justin Vernon & Aaron Dessner
Dark Was the Night
tl;dr: that one guy is still gay for sufjan, happy music, and thesauruses