JB's Best Music Of 2009

[note: I didn't mean to post this so late, but I got caught up in the holidays, didn't have time to finish it.)


St. Vincent - Actor

I can pinpoint exactly where Annie Clark (stage name St. Vincent) clicked for me. It was in this video, a solo live performance of "Your Lips Are Red", a highlight from her first album "Marry Me". I like to think I'm past any gender biases in terms of music (for the longest time I scarcely even listened to female musicians, thank god I forced myself to grow out of that), but Clark caught me offguard. I mean, I don't think it was just that she was a woman; she's got a particularly polite, delicate appearance, rather in line with the standard "indie chick" look. Also, the work of hers I was previously familiar with was the quirky chamber-pop "Jesus Saves, I Spend" (cutesy, sure, but catchy enough to bring me back to this). Whatever it was, when I heard this, I was blown away. Clark is an excellent guitarist, and a fierce one too, when the time comes (her solo live stuff is arguably even better than with full band, especially for "Marry Me" material). Here, "Lips" snarls like an attack dog pulling at its chain. It's rough and jagged but tight. And that break-down; borderline proggy, played with punk ferocity. She even crunches her voice into a near-growl. It's a hell of a performance, and she was the last person I would've expected it from.

For a while, I felt almost guilty at my response to this. Then a few listens in to "Actor", it struck me: that was exactly the point. Clark's music is all about this juxtaposition. It leads you in with soft, pretty orchestral arrangements, then ambushes you with dark waves of distortion. See opener "The Strangers"; Clark's dreamy one-woman choir and delicate arrangement is suddenly ripped asunder by an aggressive, noisy guitar solo. None of it feels artificial, mind you; the soft parts are never just a set-up for the loud, nor the loud an obligatory twist - the balance gives each their due power. Even the lighter fare has its dark currents; a black lining for every silver cloud. The billowing strings, horns and choral vocals of "The Bed" frame Clark's lyrics reminiscent of a childhood nightmare, "Black Rainbow"'s angular chamber pop ends with a single phrase repeating into the void, gathering sonic debris along the way (upon first listen, I described it as sounding "like the Flying Monkeys winning"). In interviews, she's often mentioned the album being cinematically influenced, and it's easy to hear; the album is crafted with the grace and dynamics of a great film. Specifically, she referred several times to old Disney movies - again, you can see the traces. But that's an oversimplification. Maybe if Walt had teamed up with David Lynch.

Of course, part of why this all works so well is the grace with which all its parts are rendered. The productions and arrangements are lushly detailed, making for tremendously rewarding relistens, and always a perfect fit. Clark's vocals are at the center of the whole thing, alternately complementing and contrasting the arrangements: achieving a soaring elegance in the coda of "The Party", like a glass statue in a hurricane amidst the guitars of "Actor Out Of Work". And lest it be neglected amidst all the praise for the instrumentation, contrasts, etc. - there are some great songs here too. The album's singles are gems of tightly-composed noise-pop. The clattering, metallic "Actor Out Of Work" is a pop sugar-rush that seems more shockingly mechanical and dissonant with each listen, and the distorted funk stomp of "Marrow" (one of the first tracks I heard) absolutely slays (even moreso live).

From the initial announcement, I was tremendously excited about this record. I checked Soulseek literally daily for a leak (sorry, Ms. Clark), scanned YouTube for live performances (was thrilled by the above performance of "Marrow"). And it didn't let me down. In fact, it may even have exceeded my expectations.


Sunn O))) - Monoliths And Dimensions

It's a fine line between interesting idea and good music, and Sunn O))) has made a career of walking it. One can't help but consider that this may be part of how they've fallen in with the Pitchfork crowd as of late; they're like a badge of "sophisticated taste" for advanced hipsters. They're far too good a band for that kind of bullshit. If one thing can be said for them, it would be that they do not make easy music. It requires open-mindedness and, most of all, patience. Everything about their presentations bears this out; the epic song lengths, the elaborate packaging and limited-edition, vinyl-only releases, the big Druid robes they're always seen wearing. It's intimidating from the outside. For the first couple of listens, you wonder how anybody could possibly consider this "music". Then, once the initial shock wears off, you start to see the subtler elements, and it all starts to make sense. "Monoliths" continues in this vein, for sure, but this time there's less to cut through and richer rewards to be found. This is Sunn, for the first time, playing actual "music". The greatest testament to their art is that they manage this without compromise. The tracks are as long, dense and droney as ever, but there's something new: structure.

Previous Sunn efforts, great though they may be, are a little much sometimes. I hesitate to call them self-indulgent, but it's hard not to; they're long, long, long and usually seem to go nowhere. They're conceptually fascinating, with much to be appreciated, but sometimes it feels like more effort than it's worth to really get it. The kind of music that's more interesting to read about than to listen to. That was rather my feeling towards Sunn before listening to "Monoliths": I liked them, I respected them, but I had to kind of struggle to enjoy them. The first time I listened to the album, I was on vacation. I had read a piece about "Monoliths" in experimental music magazine "Signal To Noise", and of course, was intrigued. I sat down in my hotel room and listened to the album. What astonished me is that I never got distracted; I didn't read, my thoughts didn't wander - I was completely enthralled in the music. It was on constant repeat for the rest of the trip, and still it never got dull. And the most amazing part? Since then, the rest of Sunn's discog makes all the more sense. Things I used to find a real challenge to sit through, I now take great pleasure in. It's like all it needed was something a little clearer to stand it next to.
When "Monoliths" was announced as featuring orchestral instrumentation on several tracks, the band was careful to note that it wasn't going to be "metal meets orchestra". And indeed it isn't. On "Agartha", it's almost abstract - more reminiscent of a ship in turmoil at sea than any musical arrangement. The strings come on about halfway through, wailing like gale-force winds against the sea of rumbling guitar. Upright basses buzz and pop like a wooden hull pummelled by raging waves. Eventually, all give way to the calm of the storm; a warm drone of horns. All the meanwhile, guest vocalist Attila Csithar plays angry Neptune; his growling recitation lording over the chaos, commanding and ancient. The imposingly titled "Big Church (Megszentségteleníthetetlensé-geskedéseitekért)" boasts a choir, lending it a sense of gothic grandeur in addition to making it the most conventionally "listenable" track on the disc (it's also the shortest, at 9:43). But by far the best use of the orchestral instrumentation comes on the final track, the 16-minute "Alice" - my vote for Sunn's masterpiece. It's a beautiful piece; a culmination of Sunn's oeuvre thus far and a defining statement if ever there was one. As always, the key is patience. The piece builds and takes shape slowly across the span of its grand runtime. Strings and horns shine through the cracks in the guitars' tectonic shifts - organic and electric tones interweaving - until the entire piece reaches full sonic bloom; massive and glorious like the rising sun. At this point the guitars recede, leaving in their wake a glimmering orchestral twilight, which, over the span of the final 3 minutes, instrument by instrument dissolves. The trombone plays the last few notes, then silence. It's over, on record - but in our heads, it resonates for days.


Brother Ali - Us

When you've got Chuck D doing your intro, you know you've made it. And few deserve it more than Minneapolis MC Brother Ali - with his 3rd full-length "Us", he's not only lived up to his potential but in the process proven himself one of the best artists working in hip hop today. "Us" is one of the most intelligent, sincere and, most importantly, compassionate albums we've seen in a long time.

The key to Ali's brilliance is his humanity. He eschews street theatre for domestic drama, thug posturing for street-smart morality, self-mythologizing for humble, frank relatability. Despite his self-applied label of "street preacher", one of Ali's greatest gifts is that he never feels preachy, and god knows he's walking on dangerous ground for it: race and the struggles of the lower class, by far two of the most overworked topics in hip hop, are both themes running through the work. Seldom have either been addressed with such grace. Ali, though Caucasian by race, is an albino, and has often mentioned growing up feeling far more of a bond with his black friends than those of his own race. This rather complex relation would seem to have greatly influenced Ali's take on race; one of the most sensitive and insightful ever seen in hip hop. Take "Breaking Dawn", for example: Ali tells the story of a leper boy who, turned out of his white home, finds true family with the home's slaves. He takes up their music, and, one day, is invited into back into the home to sing, but leaves upon realizing their hypocrisy. This is not only a clear allegory for Ali himself, but also an well-rendered observation on the treatment of black music over the last century - far smarter and subtler than "fuck whitey" bullshit like Mos Def's "Rock 'N' Roll". The standouts are many; domestic vignette "House Keys", "Slippin' Away", an elegy to a friend lost to the streets, and "Tight Rope" (perhaps the best track on the album), which touches upon the culture clashes of immigrants, the family dynamics of divorces and the struggles of self-loathing homosexuals.

Content aside, the record sounds great. Producer Ant must be mentioned; his beats are so great, you hardly even notice the first couple of listens. This is no insult; it's just that they complement Ali perfectly and never draw the focus away from him. Not to say there aren't a few knockouts; opener "The Preacher" tears down the gates with funky horns, blazing guitar and handclaps, and "Crown Jewel" is excellent slow-burn soul. Ali has great delivery; a raspy, soulful voice and nice flow - he's able to alternate between breathless hard-and-fast ("The Preacher", "Fresh Air") and a chilled drawl ("Crown Jewel", "House Keys").


DOOM - Born Like This

I'm disappointed in myself that it took me this long to get into Doom. But really, this was a perfect jumping-on point; it's a little more polished and digestible than "Madvillain" or "Dangerdoom", but at no expense to Doom's eccentric talents. Lyrically, he's consistently on point; from the very funny superhero piss-take "Batty Boyz" to the off-kilter exploitation-noir of "Angelz". His rhymes, usually eschewing traditional punchlines, have a real way of worming their way into your brain - chunks of "Gazillion Ear" and "Ballskin" are permanently stuck in my head - and his voice, still gravelly as fuck, sounds better than ever. He's a generous host, too; he hands several tracks over to guest MCs, such as Empress Starhh's all-around standout "Still Dope" and Raekwon's typical(ly excellent) gritty sketch "Yessir!" The beats are also top-notch, by an all-star cast of modern rap, including Dilla, Madlib and Doom himself. And how many rap albums can boast not only a Thom Yorke remix but a Charles Bukowski sample? And while it's certainly more song-oriented than stuff like Madvillain, "Born Like This" is still very much a Doom album in terms of structure; it's made up of mostly short-ish tracks, often feeling rather like dream fragments, loose and strange. And I wouldn't have it any other way. It's said a lot these days that hip-hop is dead. If you ask me, as long as we have DOOM....it's got some life left in it yet.


Kate Simko - Music From The Atom Smashers

"Music From The Atom Smashers" was composed as the score for a documentary about Fermilab physicists searching for the legendary Higgs boson. I haven't seen the movie, which is perhaps an even stronger testimony to the album; only a select highest-tier of scores can work as completely independent albums. I don't know a thing about physics either, if that makes a difference. But perhaps that's for the better. Simko's music sounds like science. It's clearly intricate, gracefully and deliberately crafted, but it seems impossible to a layman to fathom the process. It's almost intimidating. Most tracks are pieces of warm, rather shapeless ambience; clicks, buzzes, bleeps and hums floating about in their own little sphere. There's more a sense of melody than actual melody - there's no apparent structure, they feel like pieces of some great unseen whole. Yet at the same time, it feels natural and coherent, fascinating, even beautiful. Occasionally it forms something recognizable, such as the Philip Glass-esque "The Creative Part", or the hypnotic minimalist-beat of "God Particle" (pretty much the only track here to betray Simko's background as a house producer). The fact that it was created as for a film should be considered - the music is far too interesting to be confined to the sole purpose of score, but perhaps being created in that framework leaned it towards coherency as a single work. Despite its lack of clear form, it remarkably never feels a mess - we get the sense Simko placed every note with care and specificity for maximum effect. Like the layman watching the work of science, we're left in naive awe; it seems almost magical.


Worriedaboutsatan - Arrivals

First things first: this is a headphone album. Drawing influence in near equal parts from ambient, post-rock and IDM, it's richly crafted and immaculately detailed, immediately engaging yet rewarding in the longterm, stunningly atmospheric, haunting, etc. None of this is to say you need to completely immerse yourself in it, though. In fact, I find it best to listen to it in a public place, at a volume low enough that outside sounds can leak in. To call this mere music does it a disservice; it's more a kind of living sound art. It adapts to any space and takes in the sounds around it till you can scarcely tell them apart. For example, the other day I put "Arrivals" on while walking around the mall, to give it a re-listen for consideration on this list. I found myself constantly pausing to figure out whether sounds were inside or outside. Everything around me - the hiss and rumble of passing cars, footsteps, voices, music on store radios - became a part of the music, complementing it as well as if it had been a deliberate addition. Sometimes the parts I most expected to be part of the music turned out to be coincidental outside sounds; a horn solo playing over the crappy loudspeaker fit right into "History Is Made At Night", the rattle of people going through CD racks sounded like another drum track in "I Am A Crooked Man". I'm as loyal as the next geek about the importance of the album, of active, focused listening, all of that - but let's be realistic: this is the iPod generation. About half the time most of us spend listening to music is in environments that aren't really conducive to sonic isolation. We need somebody music made with that in mind - music that can play off it and work within it instead of denying it or struggling against it. Worriedaboutsatan is it.


HONOURABLE MENTIONS



N.A.S.A. - The Spirit Of Apollo

"The Spirit Of Apollo" is all about the cast. It's not really a coherent album - it's not even really great song-for-song - and the production is functional but nothing special. Anything that works about it is thanks to the well-stocked guest list. I mean, just look at it: KRS-One, David Byrne, Chuck D, Karen O, Scarface, Fatlip, M.I.A., Ghostface Killah, Ol' Dirty Bastard, RZA, Kool Keith, Tom Waits...and that's not even all of them. As you might guess, it gets kinda cluttered at times. Some of the guests make such subtle contributions they're pretty much present in name only. But sometimes it works. "A Volta", with SYAP-approved Amanda Blank and reggae star Sizzla, is a real banger, and "Hip Hop" - well, it's got KRS and it's great to see Fatlip again. Specialest of special props goes to "Spacious Thoughts" - Tom Waits and Kool Keith on one track. It's about as awesome as you'd imagine.



Method Man & Redman - Blackout! 2

It's hard to go wrong with Meth & Red. Their collab albums are exactly what you'd expect of the premise, two veteran MCs having some fun: it's not hardcore, it's not gonna save hip hop, but it's a hell of a fun album. Frankly, both MCs have earned this kind of throw-away; they've been around since the golden age of the 90s and each has multiple classics to his name. And they're still both in good shape too - perhaps not as jaw-dropping as their early years, but still tight enough to show most MCs half their age how it's done. Opener "I'm Dope Nigga" packs 20-ton chrome swagger, they turn in a smooth ladykiller routine on Erick-Sermon-featuring "Mrs. International", and of course there's the obligatory stoner boast track "Dis Is 4 All My Smokers". Single "City Lights" featuring Bun B is a standout; slow-drag funk that fits all 3 MCs like a glove. Ultimately, the pro and the con are one and the same; they've done all of this a million times before. There's nothing new here, for sure - but what is here is 10 plus years well-honed.



Apostle Of Hustle - Eats Darkness

"Eats Darkness" is a real clusterfuck. You can never get a handle on exactly what AoH leader Andrew Whiteman is trying to say (he describes it as "a serial poem about some struggles people go through. Battles, from the macro to the micro. Songs about tactics and attitudes needed in 'life during wartime'. Each track is like tapas at the banquet of conflict. A small contribution to the articulation of a fucked and beautiful world".....ummm, okay); the songs are messy and the album is sprinkled with short and fucking baffling audio-collage interludes. The amazing part, given all this, is that the album isn't that bad. I admire it for its oddball tenacity anyway, but the songs themselves often work out quite well and all in all it's a solid disc. Not to say it isn't pretty flawed too - the tracks tend to be more clusters of ideas than real songs; "Soul Unwind" closes with all the soar of an anthem but never really earns it, the title track meanders for nearly three minutes around a dull electronic beat. Save said title track, none of them are at all unpleasant to listen to, though. Special note must go to "Eazy Speaks", the only track here bearing the Cuban influences that marked much of AoH's previous work, and the brisk indie-rock of "Xerses". Lyrically, it feels fittingly strange and fragmentative: "Eazy Speaks" alludes to hip hop, "Soul Unwind" consists of nothing but its title, "Xerses" is a collage of strange images and corporate namedrops. And those interludes...gun sounds, weird bits of speech, clips of music; there's a running theme of war and violence, but other than that they're so bizarre as to work almost as palate-cleansers between tracks. It should be noted that none of this feels forced; Whiteman seems genuine, though it's hard to tell what he's being genuine about. In anything I've read, though, I've found Whiteman smart and sincere about even the most obscure subjects (see his Top 10 list of Doo-Wop songs). As seen here, he has a hell of a lot of ideas, and I have hope that someday he'll manage to make something great out of them. If there are a few "Eats Darkness"s along the way, I can deal with it.


The Dead Weather - Horehound

One of Jack White's primary virtues and flaws is the same thing; his restlessness. It does always keep things from getting boring; the Stripes never feel samey from record to record, and we get plenty of interesting detours like this and the Raconteurs. However, interesting doesn't always equal great: much of "Icky Thump" (which I did quite like regardless) just felt like White trying on different musical styles. It's not that he seemed insincere (far from it, actually) or even that the songs weren't done well...it just didn't feel natural. This is the flipside. It's quite possibly the weirdest record in White's canon, yet it never feels forced. But I must stop here; truly, this isn't White's record. It belongs as much or more to vocalist Alison Mosshart, and in no small part to multi-instrumentalist Dean Fertita. It comes out like the best possible result of a bunch of very talented people having a jam session - loose and idiosyncratic but consistently interesting and enjoyable. Highlights are numerous; opener "60 Feet Tall" reunites Zep-style stadium blues with some of the ghostly weirdness lost in translation from the Delta (also, Mosshart is at her absolute best), "I Cut Like A Buffalo" sounds like alien reggae, and Mosshart's "So Far From Your Weapon" even has a vague hint of 60s-style soul, if you really listen (take the "get up, let go" stomp, replace the guitars with horns and put Aretha in for Mosshart...trust me, it's there).


Japandroids - Post-Nothing

"Post-Nothing" is all about simplicity. Simple instrumentation (guitar and drums), simple lyrics ("The Boys Are Leaving Town" consists entirely of the lines "the boys are leaving town/will we find our way back home?" repeated like mantras), simple melodies (big garagey riffs repeated almost hypnotically). You'd think it'd get boring fast, but in fact quite the contrary: you know how sometimes a hook is just so catchy you always wish they'd play it one more time? Well, Japandroids are for you. Japandroids are big rock gone minimalist; cut away the excesses (solos, pseudo-poeticism, showy song structures) and double the hooks. It's all about youth, too; lyrics like scribbles in a notebook margin, songs sprawled out lazily like summer afternoons. Innocent and carefree though they may, they're not naive - "Young Hearts Spark Fire" boasts the album's best and most poignant line: "We used to dream/Now we worry about dying/I don't wanna worry about dying/I just wanna worry about those sunshine girls".