2008 in Music
I present my more-or-less annual list of my favorite musical releases of the year with the usual caveats: These are my personal favorites, not some objective “Best Of”. The only criteria is my personal enjoyment, not any sort of critical perspective or agenda. This is unranked. There is no logic to the order I’ve listed the albums in. There are three categories: The Best: for my favorite 2008 releases. Disappointments and Near Misses: Not exactly the worst, but more like the releases that should have been good but weren’t quite there. And finally, Non-2008 Releases: for the albums I fell in love with this year that didn’t happen to be released this year. Chronology be damned! Without further ado, let’s talk music.
The Best:
Why?: Alopecia: Yoni Wolf broke from his indie hip-hop roots with 2005′s Elephant Eyelash, bringing his neurotically morbid obsessions into the realm of oddball indie rock for the first time. Alopecia refines this formula, bursting at the seams with verbal gymnastics, free-associative ruminations on death, sex, dying, living, shame, perversity, love and health (or lack thereof). If it sounds like a challenging listen, maybe it is, but you wouldn’t know it from the inventive and catchy musical trojan horse hiding these shockingly frank lyrics. “Good Friday” was probably my most-listened song of the year, with Yoni deadpanning his neuroses, addictions and obsessions over a loping hip-hop beat and acoustic guitar riff. It’s at once funny, sick, and affecting in ways that very few artists can pull off, and the rest of the album sticks to that same general standard.
Max Tundra: Parallax Error Beheads You: This is an album that can’t decide if it came from the past via an old Amiga computer, from a musically evolved and unapologetically whimsical future, or from a present grounded in social networking global interconnectedness. Maybe trying to piece together a sensible worldview from the pop cultural ephemera and lovelorn soul-searching that make up this album is a fool’s errand. Or maybe it’s the most fun you’ll have all year. Either way, nothing sounded quite as giddy, joyous, inventive, and downright original as this album this year.
Cut Copy: In Ghost Colors: In a year when dance music sounds and structures dominated the underground and seeped over to the mainstream, Cut Copy reminds us that pop smarts and affecting songs are the only surefire way to get to people’s heads, hearts, and feet all at once. MGMT may have stolen the indie/disco/pop spotlight, but Cut Copy served up a superior experience on In Ghost Colors, with far less irony and self-referentiality. Eschewing the ironic distance adopted by their peers, they delve straight into the territories of disco, house music, and electro, melding it all to perfectly crafted pop music and a sense of sonic adventure. This is dance music with something for everyone, dance music that’s universal without pandering, and without hedging it’s bets with nudges and winks.
M83: Saturdays = Youth: There was a heavy streak of revivalism in the air this year, but while everyone else was strip-mining obscure disco scenes for some semblance of legitimacy, M83 leapfrogged past disco to early 80s new wave and synthpop. Not to say that particular sound hasn’t been revisited and commodified lately, but M83 bring a dense shoegazer sensibility to the party, swapping layered guitars for buzzing sawtooth synths. Their sonic maximalism pairs well with straight-forward song structures and an aesthetic perfectly married to the era they’re recalling. Lyrics, album art, and production align to create a barely revisionist celebration of the best of a decade.
Mates of State: Re-Arrange Us: I’ve had a soft spot for this band since I first saw them belting out sickly-sweet and nuanced pop with an organ, a drum kit, and two perfectly paired voices singing harmony with all their might. They’ve stayed strong over the years, taking small steps to expand their sound with each album, and refining their skills steadily. They’ve gone from tiny backwoods bars to support slots on big tours, and seeing them in front of hundreds at Bumbershoot two years ago was a complete head trip. Re-Arrange Us is their fifth and strongest album, and that’s no faint praise after a great record like Bring it Back. They’re more direct, more confident, and wielding a set of songs that are more intimate than even their previous standard. The expanded instrumentation (check out that excellent bassline on the chorus of “The Re-Arranger” and the string outro to “Get Better”) is a welcome cherry on top of this record.
TV on the Radio: Dear Science: Now here’s a band that has it figured out. They’ve got songs that are immensely catchy and deeply weird. They can handle heavily polished grandeur (“Family Tree”) and twitchy funk (“Dancing Choose, “Golden Age”). They can be light hearted, affecting, and topical, sometimes in the space of a single song. And yet they never sound scattered or haphazard. I don’t know how they make it work, but I want them to keep doing it. I want their next album to be as big a leap forward as this one is from it’s predecessor, Return to Cookie Mountain. And at this point, I don’t doubt that it will be.
The Decemberists: Always the Bridesmaid: This short EP was a return to form for the Portland band, after the prog rock trainwreck of the Crane Wife. Always the Bridesmaid finds them returning to their strengths, marrying literate and reference-laden narratives to strident indie-pop that borrows heavily from folk and Americana. “Valerie Plame” opens the affair by imagining the shock of a Baghdad cabbie discovering the true identity of his favorite fare over a bouncy, tuba-anchored tune. The ending almost explicitly cribs the coda of “Hey Jude” before delivering 5 other solid songs (including a tasty cover of Mo Tucker’s featured moment with the Velvet Underground, “I’m Sticking With You”).
Fennesz / Dafeldecker / Brandlmayr: Till the Old World’s Blown Up and a New One Is Created: Christian Fennesz released a proper solo full length this year (Black Sea), but I find this collaborative effort more satisfying. He’s teamed up with the members of Polwechsel before, on the excellent Wrapped Islands collaboration album, and this second pairing expands on the foundation they laid there. Four years in the making, this double-disc EP features three original improvised tracks by each artist, plus a 35-minute suite combining elements of all three. Deft jazz drumming, wisps of processed guitar, and various synthetic and acoustic textures pile up then dissipate, with silence playing just as important a role as any other element. Spacious and thoughtful, this album combines improvised spontaneity with meticulously sequenced elements, and spans immense amounts of stylistic territory.
Deadmau5: Random Album Title: Now don’t keel over in shock, but I’ve actually included a straight up dance record in this list. Deadmau5′s set at Decibel Festival this year was apparently a highlight, converting at least a few tech heads into progressive house fans, at least for that evening; and though I missed the set, I made a point of checking out his material afterwards. Maybe it’s my unfamiliarity with the genre, but this album feels particularly well crafted yet surprisingly minimal for straight-up dance music, and rewards repeated listening even off the dance floor. The 6-bar phrasing of “Brazil” builds tension expertly, a perfect example of the way this record coasts on swells of pulsing synths and slowly evolving filters.
Eero Johannes: Eero Johannes: The increasing balkanization of electronic music continues with the introduction of yet another micro-genre, the ridiculously named Skweee (count the E’s). Centered in Sweden and Finland, and best represented by the Museum of Future Sound andSkandinavian Skweee compilation series, this genre is still seeping between the cracks of the sub-Google underground. Eero Johannes’ self-titled debut is seemingly the first skweee full length available to the world at large, and not just a tiny circle of Scandinavian vinyl enthusiasts and internet trainspotters. This 8-bit R&B bastard is an ideal ambassador for the genre. His bouncy electro-funk surprises, delights, and bewilders all at once. This style will probably never float into the mainstream’s attention, but it’s good that there’s some truly enjoyable work available to a wider audience (if Planet Mu’s audience can be called wide) to mark it’s existence.
Honorable Mentions: Zeigeist: The Jade Motel; Glasvegas: Glasvegas; Various Artists: Skandinavian Skwee; Various Artists: Museum of Future Sound Volume 1 & 2; Hot Chip: Made in the Dark; Deathcab For Cutie: Narrow Stairs; The Fiery Furnaces: Remember; Autechre:Quaristice/Quaristice Versions.
Disappointments and Near Misses
Squarepusher: Just a Souvenir: Tom Jenkinson is a perpetual entry on my year-end list, and it’s often in this category. His ambition is admirable, but his stylistic experiments don’t always satisfy. He’s a mad genius for sure, but it’s a tossup as to which adjective is the most appropriate on any given project. This release revisits his jazz-funk fusion obsession, but from a poppier and more structured direction than the stellar Music is Rotted One Note. Unfortunately, that structure and restraint leaves this feeling like every other mediocre jazz-funk fusion record you’ve heard in your dentist’s office this year, with a little bit of SupaTrigger and vocoder thrown on top for good measure.
Kanye West: 808s & Heartbreak: I can’t exactly call this album a failure, but it doesn’t quite succeed either. It’s a compelling mess, and that always makes for interesting and rewarding listening. Highlights like “Paranoid” and “Love Lockdown” keep me coming back for more, while overindulgent excess derails promising exercises like the overlong “Say You Will”. And don’t even get me started on “Robocop”, which could be either the best or worst thing on the album, depending on your tolerance for puns and schmaltz. This is an interesting detour, and that’s not a bad thing, but it’s wildly inconsistent and could have used some editorial revision.
Beck: Modern Guilt: Look, here’s my problem with Beck of late. He’s become a craftsman. This is a solid enough album, but why does it exist? What’s the guiding principle here, other than having Danger Mouse produce a batch of songs? The same goes for the Informationas well (substituting Nigel Godrich for Danger Mouse). Beck used to put out albums that were statements, singular records with a unified voice that was married to a particular moment in time. Sea Change had a raison d’etre. So did Midnight Vultures, Mutations, Odelay, One Foot in the Grave, and Mellow Gold. This is arguably true for Guero as well, and even if it comes up short in comparison, it’s still a solid and sometimes surprising enough record that it’s shortcomings are forgiven. There was a reason those albums work, as albums, and not just collections of the most recent songs Beck wrote. I don’t get that from Modern Guilt or The Information. Where’s the thematic unity, the sense of newness and exploration? He’s stopped putting out albums that make a statement, and started churning out collections of nice enough songs that are only held together by their production values. In short: He’s firmly entrenched in a rut at this point. It’s a rut that’s still better than a lot of artists can hope to achieve, but still I expect better, based on past examples of what he’s capable of.
Non 2006 Releases
Bark Psychosis: Hex and Codename: Dustsucker: I should have heard these albums much sooner, if only for the tenuous connection to Talk Talk (drummer Lee Harris appears on Codename: Dustsucker) and Disco Inferno (keyboardists Daniel Gish joined prior to Hex‘s release). Maybe I’d always written them off because of the awful band name (a leftover from their days as a Napalm Death cover band). If that’s the case, I was unwittingly missing out on one of the seminal bands of the early post-rock years, and two excellent and understated records.
Venezia: Venezia: Oh math rock, why can’t I quit you? While some would say the genre’s musical riches have been pretty much exhausted, the sharp eared listener can still dig out a gem like this self-titled release by Venezia. This one was found on one of the many MP3 blogs that clog my Google Reader on a daily basis, and it stands head and shoulders above most of the rock I heard this year, instrumental or otherwise. It’s raw and dirty, with guitars that slice through the mix and drums that sprawl across the soundstage; the entire band swerves through treacherous rhythmic gotchas, and builds an epic thunderstorm of sheer brutal intensity. Who are they? Where are they from? I don’t know, sad to say. But that’s not going to stop me from listening tot he only evidence I have of their existence.
Nicholas Makelberg: Dying in Africa: Another record I know very little about. What I do is that it came out in 2007, was mastered by Andreas Tilliander (aka Mokira, Lowfour, Repeatle, etc.), and it’s a perfect slice of clean, crisp 80s-style synthpop. Croony vocals, lots of surprisingly tasteful reverb, and a retro sound that avoids sounding cheesy. These last two records on this list kind of highlight for me how the internet has made more music available than most people ever realized existed. And while this music is getting into people’s hands, sometimes it’s coming to us completely free of any sort of context. How odd is it that two of my favorites over the last 12 months are by artists who are anonymous as far as I can tell? And what does that mean for the argument that digital distribution and the growth of mp3 blogs is good for smaller artists? Do they benefit from people being exposed to their music, even in circumstances where there is no context provided beyond a band name, and maybe a label? Food for thought.
The Tuss: Rushup Edge and Confederation Trough EP: OMG teh AFX!Or, er….maybe not. Regardless of how Easy Street Records files these albums, or the flimsiness of Rephlex Records’ non-denials, I’m not convinced they’re the work of the infamous Richard D. James. Sure, there’s plenty of similarity; the microedited, twitchy drum programming, the rich and spastic synthesizer arrangements, the melodic sensibility combined with acid techno and early IDM. But something about the voicing and texture doesn’t quite feel like circa 2007 Aphex Twin should. So I’m inclined to believe that Brian and Karen Tregaskin exist, and are responsible for these two remarkable visits to vintage Braindance territory.
Belle & Sebastian: Um…pretty much everything: Yes, I know. I’ve talked a lot of shit about this band over the years, but I’ve always had a soft spot for a handful of songs (“If You’re Feeling Sinister”, “It Could Have Been a Brilliant Career”, etc.). Well, this is the year it finally clicked, and I became an unabashed fan. The perfectly crisp recording style, Stuart Murdoch’s breathy and lightly accented vocals, the wit in the lyrics and arrangements….it works for me. And so I dig my way slowly through their large back catalog, eating a little bit of crow with each listen.
