December 29th, 2006
In Alphabetical Order
The 1900s-”Bring the Good Boys Home”
It’s fitting that a group called the 1900s would write a song called “Bring the Good Boys Home” as the title makes it seem like a song written by a WWI pacifist. The sound however is perfect light-hearted pop, full of pounding drums, synths and a few fluttering Pro Tools strings. Relentlessly upbeat, the 4 and a half minute song talks about tea and licorice and yes, bringing the good boys home. Rumor has it, it was co-written by Cam’ron.
The Arctic Monkeys-”Who the Fuck Are Arctic Monkeys”
Released off the EP of the same name, “Who the Fuck Are Arctic Monkeys” gives me hope that Alex Turner will continue writing great songs in spite of the pressures of the British hype machine. Hilarious and packed with trademark dry British humor, “Who the Fuck Are Arctic Monkeys” soars atop an elastic bass line and sneering lyrics to effectively quash any one-hit wonder notions. At the end of the song, Turner mocks critics by shouting at them: “Bring on the Backlash.” But you won’t hear it from me.
The Cold War Kids-”Hang Me Up to Dry”
The Cold War Kids must’ve learned something from touring all year with Tapes N’ Tapes because this sound is just drums. Matt Aveiro, the group’s drummer is this song’s star, contributing crashing hip-hop sounding sticks that turn this song into an anthem.
Daniel Hutchens-”Blood From the Rock”
I don’t know if its technically possible for blood to come out of rocks and quite frankly, I’m not sure if I want to know. Instead, I’ll just listen to this song from Hutchens Autumn Tone Records’ Debut. With crunching Crazy Horse-esque guitars and bluesy vocals, Hutchens’ lament is surprisingly head-nodding. Plus, the title of the album (Love Songs For Losers) is easily one of the year’s best.
El Perro Del Mar-”God Knows (You Gotta Give to Get)”
I have a lot of respect for Sarah Assbring, the Swedish singer behind El Perro Del Mar. Namely, that she got out of elementary school in one-piece despite having the last name, Assbring. That’s perhaps the second worst name I’ve ever heard (only behind a friend of a friend named no-joke, Dick Dangles). Despite her bizarre nomenclature, listening to Assbring’s light and airy lilt on “God Knows” is one of the most pleasurable four minutes I heard all year.
Elvis Perkins-”While You Were Sleeping”
It’s too bad Elvis Perkins didn’t write this song a decade ago so that it could’ve been featured in the Bill Pullman/Sandra Bullock romantic comedy of the same name. Dude could’ve made a fortune. But the bottom line is we should just be thankful that it was written at all. A gorgeous and simple acoustic melody that picks up steam across its six minute length, “While You Were Sleeping” was my #2 pick for Best Song on my Stylus Singles Ballot. Download it. You won’t get it out of your head for weeks. I promise.
Franz Ferdinand-”L. Wells”
A B-Side from “The Fallen” single, “L. Wells” is a stomping Newcastle drinking anthem about “Lindsay Wells” and “Western Wind Catching in Your Celtic Hair.” It is awesome and proves that dashed off-Alex Kapronos B-Sides are better than almost anything made this year. It might not be “cool” to like Franz now that they’re MTV darlings, but forget about all that stuff. These guys are one of the 10 Best Bands working today.
Head Like a Kite-”Noisy at the Circus”
The title itself seems redundant. Of course, it’s noisy at the circus. There are lots of lions, tigers and bears. And clowns. I hate clowns. I don’t hate this song though. In fact, I kind of love it.
The Hold Steady-”Stuck Between Stations”
I could try to write something about this song, but why bother when Crime Notes over at The Cole Slaw Blog could do it better.
“Somewhere in the ether, there is an ideal platonic Bruce Springsteen song, and somewhere else, there is an ideal platonic Billy Joel song, neither of which exist in real life. On their new album, The Hold Steady will have a song called “Stuck Between Stations” that is one of those songs — the Springsteen and Billy Joel that never existed, but should. It’s a story about the poet John Berryman. Any song that pays tribute to On the Road, the Golden Gophers, and a celebrated American poet is going to be intriguing; what I can’t do justice is the sweep and the sweetness of the sound.” (Read the Entire Post Here)”
Islands-”Where There’s a Will There’s a Whalebone”
Let’s just say you’re in the mood to take a couple tabs of acid. This is your soundtrack. Backbones sliding into Ether. Laying low in Tropical Hideouts. Busdriver and Subtitle unleashing frantic helter-skelter raps into the belly of the song. Then it stops on a dime, as the Islands let loose, anvil drums and off-kilter harmony. This is psychedelia for the new millenium.
The Little Ones-”Cha Cha Cha”
This song isn’t deep. It doesn’t need to be. It’s pop at its best. There was a reason why The Little Ones blew up this year. This is it. Nearly 5 minutes of sing-a-long melodies, a danceable bridge and harmony that would make the Shins proud.
M. Ward-”Right in the Head”
To me the greatness in this song is revealed at about the minute and 45 second mark, when Ward lets off an fuzzy crackling electric guitar riff that winnows through the track’s spin. Then he starts bellowing about how he lived with many ghosts when he was younger and how he’ll live with many ghosts until he’s old. And it gets me every single time.
Midlake-”Roscoe”
If every song on The Trials of Van Occupanther could’ve been as good as the first single “Roscoe,” it would’ve been the best album made this year. The album wasn’t bad or anything but it failed to capture the power and majesty of this song. It’s made practically every single year end list of the best songs. It’s not hard to see why, all washed out synthesizers and weird meditations on what it would’ve been like to have been born Roscoe in 1891.
Monkey Swallows The Universe-”Sheffield Shanty”
Not to be an asshole or anything, but if you aren’t at least a little moved by “Sheffield Shanty” than you probably have no soul. A simple folk melody, this song’s shimmering acoustic cords frame lead singer Nat Johnson’s beautiful voice. Seriously, treat this song with caution. Play it at the wrong time and you might be reduced to a basket case. It’s that strong.
The Parson Red Heads-”Punctual As Usual”
The Parson Red Heads are one of those bands that you can’t help but like. You might not love them, but you can’t deny their infectious rhythms, hand-clapping melodies and good-natured warm stage demeanor. Live, this song is one of the highlights of the set. It’s is so catchy it could make Gerald Ford rise from the dead and start dancing. What? Too soon?
Peter, Bjorn & John-”Let’s Call It Off”
Forget “Young Folks.” It’s a great song and all, but for my money, this is the highlight of Writer’s Bloc. When after hearing seven straight gems, you come to track 8, “Let’s Call it Off,” Starting with its so-simple-its-genius bassline, the song confirms exactly how good these guys are. At that moment you start to wonder if an album can really be this good, this fun, this simultaneously heart-breaking and life-affirming. But it can and this is the proof.
The Raconteurs-”Steady As She Goes”
2006 was not a good year for guitar rock. Sure, you got a lot of pop rock gems that predominate this list, but there were few great RAWK songs. This is one of them. The rare song that feels at home on both KROQ and NPR. Jack White proves his genius once again. Even the haters can’t deny that he sounds pretty damned great behind Patrick Keeler’s gorilla snare hits.
Sound Team-”Your Eyes are Liars”
So what if their debut didn’t live up to the hype? “Your Eyes are Liars” proves that Sound Team has talent. Even if the bassline on this song does sound like it was written by Carlos D., this isn’t a straight up Interpol rip-off (that would be She Wants Revenge). This song merits inclusion if nothing else for the goose-bump inducing crescendo when the icy synths build and build against the tense relentless drums and then finally let loose gracefully on a descent so smooth that United Airlines would ask for tips.
Sparrow House-”When I Am Gone”
With its deceptively complex acoustic chords, this song sounds like something Bob Dylan would’ve written in 1963. In the process, Jared Van Fleet proves that Ramesh Srinastava isn’t the only one worth checking for in Voxtrot. As Gorilla Vs. Bear so aptly put it about this record: “The best compliment I can pay Falls is that everyone I played it for ended up falling in love with it. And I do mean everyone.”
The Strokes-”You Only Live Once”
If this had been released as the first single instead of the abominable “Juicebox”, First Impressions of Earth might’ve sold a million copies. Somebody at RCA should be fired. This song is evidence that The Strokes are far from finished, as it shows them in top form, Casablancas’ Lou Reed whine, Albert Hammond running circles around the track, Fab whipping the melody forward.
Swan Lake-”All Fires”
Is it possible not to get chills whenever you hear this song? I’m not sure. Haunting and reverb-soaked, the first single from Beast Moans is the best track on the record. Spencer Krug again proves that he doesn’t know how to write a bad song. This song has a timeless record that few records can ever match. Just listen and you’ll see why the Wolf Parade album is my most anticipated in 07.
Sunset Rubdown-”Shut Up I am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings”
As far as I see it, there is no point to describe this song. You just have to listen. As Oceans Never Listen put it: This song is a journey of incredible depth, I think it will have the ability to resonate in 20 years.” I couldn’t agree more. It’s easily my favorite song of this year. Of any year. If you download one song from this list, this is the one.
TV On the Radio-”I Was a Lover”
I might not have been a fan of the album, but I’m certainly a fan of its first track, the woozy hip-hop stomp of “I Was A Lover.” Listen to the piano bridge at the 2 and a half minute mark, as Tunde’s voice washes over the track like a heavy hail storm and you realize that even though this band might be overrated, there is no denying their prodigious talents.
Voxtrot-”Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives
This is the best tribute to someone’s mom since “Dear Mama.” While I’m not exactly sure if this was at all written for Ramesh Srinastava’s mom (probably not), I’ll stick with that statement. All crisp transitions, Smiths homage, and shimmering guitar melody, even if this song doesn’t make Mama Srinastava proud, it would bring a smile to Morrisey’s face at the very least.
Wolfmother-”Joker and the Thief”
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like this band. That song “Woman” is one of the most abominable things I’ve ever heard, but “Joker and the Thief” kicks ass. It might be a blatant Jack White rip-off, but I’m willing to let it slide. It’s that damned catchy and it makes you understand why this is the song playing on a thousand 13-year old boys’ Myspace pages. Truth be told, I can’t blame ‘em.
Posted in Lists, Are You From the Lester Bangs School of Thought?, Best Of | 8 Comments »
December 28th, 2006
Paris Hilton-Paris
Two Warner Bros. Records Executives Sitting in an Office in Burbank, Ca. Both of whom are smoking Cuban cigars and sipping champagne. Presumably.
Record Executive #1: So….I’ve got this problem and uh I uh….
Record Executive #2: What is it this time? Did you get drunk and start ordering Russian women from the back of the LA Weekly again?
Record Executive #1: Worse. Much worse. I slept with Paris Hilton.
Record Executive 2 begins hilariously laughing.
Record Executive #1: Big deal, so has the rest of this office. You probably should get tested though.
Record Executive #2: Look, I promised we’d give her a record deal.
Record Executive #1: Obviously. I tell that to every girl I sleep with.
Record Executive #2: Yeah, but I signed the paperwork.
Record Executive #1: You what!!! How could you have done such a thing? She gave you paperwork? She can’t even read.
Record Executive #2: No, she learned. After that whole Rick Solomon, One Night in Paris Thing, she makes you sign a contract before fucking her. It’s legally binding.
Record Executive #1: You’re fired.
Record Executive #2: No wait, we can make this work. We’ll get that what’s his name, the little Jewish boy, Storchstein..We’ll get him to produce and we’ll get that Fat Joe and that Jadatongue to be on it. The kids will eat it up.
Record Executive #1: I like where you’re going with this. I hear she’s big in Japan.
Record Executive #2: And Huge in Belgium!
They toast.
The Verdict: The album sells 500,000 + worldwide, going #1 in Belgium, proving once again that the Belgians should stick to making waffles. Miraculously, it only sells 140,000 domestically, proving that Americans have better taste in music than they have in picking presidents. U.S.A.
Young Joc-Young Joc City
Setting: Puffy and Young Joc sit in the back of Justin’s. Plotting.
Puffy: I have this vision of a city filled with Young Joc’s.
Young Joc: A Young Joc City if you will.
Puffy: Exactly.
Young Joc: Here’s how I’m gonna’ make it happen.
Puffy: I’m listening.
Young Joc: I’ll do the motor-bike dance. People love the motorbike dance.
Puffy: You’re right. People do like the motor-bike dance. I’ll call Tom Cruise and teach him how personally. I’ll make him do it live on 106th and Park. He still owes me a favor for that one time I got him out of trouble.
Young Joc: What did he do?
Puffy: Does the word NAMBLA mean anything to you?
Young Joc: No.
Puffy: Good. Good. Stick to the motor-bike kid, stick to the motorbike.
The Verdict: Young Joc sticks to the motor-bike, sells 800,000 copies. Tom Cruise does the Motor-bike live on BET. I will never be the same again.
Gwen Stefani: The Sweet Escape
Setting: Gwen Stefani applies suntan lotion onto to the back of her husband, Gavin Rossdale, somewhere along the French Riviera.
Gwen Stefani: Gavin, I really don’t know what to do about my next album. There aren’t any cultures left for me to steal, I mean pay homage to.
Gavin Rossdale: Whoah….
Gwen Stefani: Seriously, I’ve been a Harajuku girl, a Ska chick, A hip-hop dance ho and a super-fly eskimo. Too bad that Eskimo track didn’t make the last album.
Gavin Rossdale: Whoah….
Gwen Stefani: Wait a second, what was the name of the last country we went to.
Gavin Rossdale: Bush?
Gwen Stefani: No Gavin, that was the name of the last band you were in….no, we were just in Switzerland.
Gavin Rossdale: Switzerwhatzer?
Gwen Stefani: That’s it, I’ll be a sexy yodeler. No one’s ever done that.
Gavin Rossdale: Uh…what…except that dude in Star Wards.
Gwen Stefani: That was Yoda. Anyhow sweetie, can you be a dear and dial Pharrell for me.
The Verdict: The album debuts at #3, moving 243,000 units. It probably won’t go triple problem like L.A.M.B., but it ensures a place in our culture for the yodel. Something I wish died with The Sound of Music.
Kevin Federline-Playing With Fire
Setting: Several months ago in Camelot. Or the Federline Family Malibu Estate or it was then commonly referred to. Strung out on a Cheeto and Red Bull induced haze, Kevin Federline is in the midst of a deep conversation with first lady Britney Spears.
K-Fed: It’s a concept album about Fresno, y’all.
Britney: Y’all. No one knows about Fresno, Kevin. Think bigger.
K-Fed: Okay…a concept album about elephants?
Britney: Y’all??
K-Fed: Wait Brit Brit, I got it…a concept album about our life…about how America hates me and how I like weed and alcohol and sex. Wow, that’s exactly what I need to break into the mainstream. It’s never been done before.
Britney: Can I be on it?
K-Fed: Word. It’ll be ill.
Britney: What’s ill?
K-Fed: Life.
Britney: Just wait.
The Verdict: According to Wikipedia, Playing With Fire sold exactly 1 copy in its fourth week of release and under 10,000 total. Federline got divorced mid-tour via text message. This will likely be the last album ever released on “Federation Records.” Perhaps there is a god.
Rick Ross-Port of Miami
The Setting: In front of a meeting with the top brass of the Vivendi SA, the French Multinational Corporation that owns Def Jam, Jay-Z pleas for another chance in front of his Gallic Overlords.
Jay-Z: Sirs, I have just the solution to our woes.
French Overlord 1: Have you cloned Young Jeezy yet?
Jay-Z: No, but our scientists are working overtime to do so. In due time. In due time. Never fear my liege, I have the next best thing, a man named Rick Ross.
French Overlord 2: A Jew….ha? The world will not stand for a Jewish rapper.
French Overlord 1: Don’t be so foolish Pierre, that Matisyahu is a veritable gold mine for Sony. And you said it would never work.
French Overlord 2/Pierre: Bah.
Pierre turns his attention back to Jay-Z.
Pierre (cont’d): Now tell me, Jigga, what is this Jewish fellow like?
Jay-Z: Well, he’s from Miami.
Pierre Overlord: Aren’t they all.
Jay-Z: And he likes cocaine.
French Overlord 1: Does he like cocaine or does his like “like” cocaine.
Jay-Z: He like “likes” cocaine. He loves to rap about it.
Pierre: Perfect, that will appease the American hipster music critics and solidify street cred.
French Overlord 1: What else is this Ross like?
Jay-Z: He’s a fat man and he likes to hustle.
Pierre: Outstanding…being portly will endear him to the plus-sized hip hop community.
French Overlord 1: Plus, his sheer tenacity will make him loved by High School Basketball Coaches everywhere. Do not hesitate a moment. You must go Jigga…you must go to the Port of Miami.
Pierre: Godspeed.
The Verdict: The album goes platinum in spite of the fact that Rick Ross does not endear himself to hustling-mad basketball coaches nor Fat Boys fans.
Posted in Are You From the Lester Bangs School of Thought?, Best Of, It Got Weird, Didn't It? | 10 Comments »
December 27th, 2006
“This is that real hip-hop. You understand that? Because real hip-hop is in danger and we out to protect it. Who here loves that real hip-hop? If you love that real hip-hop than throw your hands in the air.”
Raekwon is screaming this to me and the other 1,000 people or so packed into the House of Blues in Los Angeles on the Sunset Strip. It’s a few days before Christmas and everyone seems to be a in good mood. Los Angeles has already started to empty out like it always does right before the holidays, but still, the House of Blues is nearly at peak capacity to see a lineup that might as well be a who’s who of mid 90’s NYC hip-hop. Rae. Ghost. Red. Three HOF’ers, still hanging in there roughly a decade after their classic debuts. So it’s no surprise that the crowd erupts into a paroxysm of cheers, heeding Raekwon’s call, waving their hands frantically, jostling wildly, nodding their heads in unison to the raspy bass booming out of the speakers.
You don’t need to be Hunter S. Thompson to detect a palpable sense of fear and loathing in the air. An undercurrent of rage is running beneath this superficial exhortations to get the crowd going. On-stage, a hard menacing glint shines in Raekwon’s eyes as he makes subtle digs towards the current state of hip-hop. He isn’t happy with it and neither is the crowd. Or else they wouldn’t be at The Rock the Bells Tour, which bills itself a music festival that “strives to expose all the elements of Hip Hop culture. Whether it’s an emcee battle, turntable exhibition, or b-boy circle, Rock The Bells represents, respects, and recognizes all aspects of the culture.”
But everyone involved knows that Rock the Bells doesn’t represent, respect and recognize ALL aspects of hip-hop. It’s a narrow interpretation of the culture focusing squarely on the brand of street hip-hop that New York City spawned from roughly 1988-1998. The South, which in recent years has become the most commercially viable region, is nowhere to be found, unless of course, New Jersey happens to be your definition of the South. But the South is certainly present in every performer’s mind, as everyone on-stage endlessly repeats how they represent the “real hip-hop and not the commercial bullshit you hear on the radio.” For a second, you can hear the echos of Young Jeezy’s taunting ad-libs, whispering, Ha-Ha….
Young Jeezy and Nick Cannon: Presumably, Not that “Real” Hip-Hop
Rock the Bells is a portrait of hip-hop in the midst of Civil War. And no, it isn’t the East Coast/West Coast beef of the mid-90s. In 2006, hip-hop is undergoing its own equivalent of the Iraqi Civil War, as the New York City rappers that gained fame during the mid-9os have found themselves trapped in a hip-hop landscape that looks increasingly strange and unfamiliar. With the rise of file-sharing and media consolidation and the demise of powerful indies like Loud Records, Rawkus,Tommy Boy and others, veterans have been dropped, driven to labels with infinitesimal PR budgets or at best, seen their release dates perptetually pushed back. The vets have taken on the mentalities of Sunnis in Iraq, losing their stranglehold at the top and trying to take down the new rulers.
The specter of the South hung heavily over the event. Just like the Shiites, Southern Rappers, after years of being unheard have asserted their control on the industry. Guys like Young Jeezy who would be laughed out of any freestyle cipher are suddenly not just receiving record deals, but becoming the biggest sellers in the game. And like the Shiites, the Southerners aren’t afraid to fight back (see Young Jeezy Al-Sadr’s recent attack on one of the old-guard’s last hopes, Nas.)
Of course, this isn’t just an East Coast/Southern beef, there are wild cards, namely The West Coast and Chicago. The West seems like the natural analogue to the Saudi Arabians, a strong neighboring state with vast influence. Of late, both the “charity giving” Saudi’s and the Iraqi Sunnis, and the East and West Coast have formed unlikely alliances (Drereminem signing Queens-born 50, The Game claiming to be a West Coast rapper with a New York state of Mind/Raekwon signing to Aftermath.) Also around are the Chicagoans/Iranians whose main seems to be status as a regional giant (see Kanye West’s man-whoring of the last two years, and Common’s lame GAP ads.) Of course, completely out of sight and mind are the underground hip-hoppers best repped by Stones Throw, Def Jux and Rhymesayers. Labels that put out great music every year that most people never hear about. Just like the Kurds. Sort of.
I Used to R.E.S.P.E.C.T. You 
Meanwhile, back on-stage, the performers stalked around, agitated and venemous, with Rae bragging about how hungry he was, spitting out choppy fierce flows, running through a greatest hits set that included “C.R.E.A.M,” “Verbal Intercourse” “Mystery of Chessboxin,’” “Glaciers of Ice” and others. At one point, the RZA came out to do his verse from “Ain’t Nothin’ To Fuck Wit.” The set was good no doubt, but you couldn’t be help but notice that it didn’t include a single song made in the last decade. As much as Raekwon (and later Redman) claimed how the East represented real “hip-hop” it’s hard to forget that their brand of “real hip-hop” (Ghost aside) hasn’t exactly been churning out classics either. And forget about young jacks trying to replace them. Papoose isn’t the second coming of Biggie, he’s the second coming of Big L. (at best). As for Saigon, he’s more likely to give Johnny Drama massages than he is to drop an album anytime this millenium.
But the show most go on. Talib Kweli came out to do a surprise guest appearance with Planet Asia, spitting a few energetic but ho-hum verses, promoting Kweli’s new imprint, Blacksmith Records and just being competently boring. Next came Redman, who delivered an impressive, well-rehearsed and professional set, per usual, complete with stage dives and cuts from Whut thee Album, all the way up to Malpractice. At points, he shouted out boasts about how his voice was strong and how people needed to go cop Redman Gone Wild, now supposedly coming out in March. But instead of Red passing the microphone to Ghostface to close out what should’ve been an impressive declaration of continued relevance, he did nothing of the sort. Ghost never came on-stage despite Raekwon having earlier proclaimed that “Ghostface was in the building. No explanations were given for his absence.
Instead closing-out duties were handed to the “legendary” DJ Kool. I’m not exactly sure who he’s “legendary” to, but he certainly wasn’t to the crowd, as most people wrinkled their faces, clueless to exactly who DJ Kool is. Granted, if you hadn’t heard his 1996 novelty hit “Let Me Clear My Throat” which Kool doesn’even really rap on, there would be no real reason to even know his name. On-stage Kool, who’s pushing 50 (according to Wikipedia), kept huffing and puffing, making all sorts of windy declarations about preserving that “real hip-hop,” dancing incessantly and making stale remarks about how he knew that one side of the crowd was louder than the other side. Which just seemed kind of annoying because we all just wanted to see Ghost, whose name was promised on the fliers, not to mention the More Fish posters blanketing the walls. Meanwhile, we got DJ Kool, the low-budget equivalent of DJ Kool Herc (No Sr. Spielbergo.
OK Dude, We Get it, Your Throat Isn’t Clear
Look, I can’t deny that I’m rooting for these guys. To me, the rap music made in New York City during the 10-year span between 88′ and ‘98, IS the real definition of hip-hop and the best music the genre has ever produced. But these very talented rappers need to stop complaining and/or talking about the good old days and start making great albums again. Guys like Redman need to stop spending the money made off the Red and Meth sitcom and invest in a label of their own. They need to develop talent. They need to do it themselves, because god knows the major-labels aren’t going to help them. These dudes need to build from the ground up, build grass-roots movements and forget about going platinum. It probably isn’t going to happen in the near future, if ever again.
Ultimately it comes down to the music. The East Coast’s “keepin’ it real” mantra grew empty and stale (Kweli, being the best example.) Meanwhile, no new artists have arrived to fill the void. 2007 is looking like an increasingly crucial year for this branch of hip-hop as both Rae, Red the Wu and other vets are slated to drop records. But the truth is, these guys are getting old, the youngest of them are in their mid-30s. Art forms need to evolve to stay relevant and unless the East can evolve and produce a third generation of classic MC’s, we seem destined to hear lame songs like “We Fly High” being passed off as NYC anthems.
Of course, things work in cycles and now the South is having its moment in the sun. But if the New Yorkers really want to reign once more, they need to start listening to themselves. “Real hip-hop” isn’t deodorant commercials, skit-laden 1 hour and 20 minute long albums, or rappers no-showing at their own concerts. Real hip-hop is hungry MC’s with their ear to the ground, rapping about what they’ve seen and heard, like Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, or off-the-wall Redman and Method Man cuts about smoking with college students, most of whom weren’t graduating and they knew it.” Chuck D said was right, hip-hop was “the CNN of the Streets,” but right now as 2006 draws to an end, the reception looks pretty blurry.
Also Check Crock Tock’s Review of the LA Show
And Oh Word’s Review of the NYC Performance
Download:
MP3: Chef Raekwon-”Glaciers of Ice”
MP3: Chef Raekwon-”Verbal Intercourse”
MP3: Redman-”Whateva Man”
MP3: Redman-”Da Bump”
Posted in Beards, Blazers, & Glasses | 8 Comments »
December 21st, 2006
25. Camera Obscura-Let’s Get Out of This Country
Let’s Get Out of the Country is a charming collection of 10 relentlessly pleasant twee pop songs. I only have one problem with it. Every time, I hear its breakout single, “Lloyd, I’m Ready To Be Heartbroken,” I become convinced that the song is about Lloyd Christmas, Jim Carrey’s character in Dumb and Dumber. I can’t help but picture Camera Obscura’s lead singer Tracyanne Campbell holding hands with Lloyd Christmas in a video montage set in Aspen Colorado. The entire time they have goofy smiles on their faces and they constantly pour beer like it was wine. People claim this song was written for Lloyd Cole, the British singer/songwriter behind the song “(Are You) Ready to Be Heartbroken.” I know differently. It was for Christmas, damnit. It was for Christmas.
But if you can get past that unforgettable revelation, Let’s Get Out of the Country reveals its remarkable consistency, its delicate orchestral arrangements filled with swooping strings sighing organs and the elegiac poetry of its lyrics. Perpetually compared to fellow Glasswegians Belle & Sebastian, Let’s Get Out of the Country remains introspective literate pop in the vein of If You’re Feeling Sinister. But rather than seem derivative, Camera Obscura’s lyrical melodramas set to skipping sing-a-long melodies have their own unique and evolved sound. This is the perfect album for a long drive on a blindingly bright summer day or a lazy hungover Sunday morning cleaning up a living room littered with empty beer bottles. Even Lloyd Christmas would be hard-pressed not to admit that Camera Obscura are better than the Monkeys, who were a huge influence on the Beatles.
Download:
MP3: Camera Obscura-”Lloyd, Let’s Get Out of the Country”
24. The Rapture-Pieces of the People We Love
Sometimes I worry about myself. In the past year, I’ve really liked records from both The Rapture and LCD Soundsystem. I’m not neccesarily worried about my taste in music. I’m worried that I’m become taken over by the hipsters. Its like James Murphy is Soylent Green. Sure, I don’t own a blazer, nor have I let my beard get beyond a day or two of growth. But I do have a pair of black plastic glasses and even though I almost never wear them, this Rapture/LCD Soundsystem thing has me worried.
Ian Cohen has said before that we have no tangible proof that Luke Jenner, lead singer of The Rapture is not retarded. And at times throughout this album it’s perfectly reasonable to question whether or not Corky from Life Goes On handles the vocals , particularly when the Jenner opens the albums with the lyrics: “high…high as the sky. Low….low as it goes. Purple dragons fly into your eyes. Milkshake shimmy, cry and cry and cry.” Seriously, who writes this guys’ lyrics? A precocious kindergartener being paid in high-powered blotter acid. But lyrical inanities aside, this is the party record of the year. Propulsive head-nodding rhythms, catchy as hell breakbeats. Forget that Justin Timberlake brings Sexybackk blah blah B.S. that everyone’s been spouting. Luke Jenner should be the hipster candidate for the King of Pop. Take a look at this man. There is just no way that he has a right to be this funky.
Download:
MP3: The Rapture-”Down for So Long”
23. Golden Smog-Another Fine Day
Another Fine Day is one of the most underrated albums released this year. It makes sense. The group hadn’t recorded an album since 1998’s Weird Tales, letting any and all buzz die down in the interim. After all, in 1998, half the blogosphere was in high school, myself included. To add to the momentum-killing hiatus, Another Fine Day, only has one Jeff Tweedy-solo song. It also has a former member of Soul Asylum writing most of the songs. No, not Dave Pirner, but the name Soul Asylum alone can conjure enough shivers to frighten away interested listeners (though you know that you got choked up the first time you saw “Runaway Train” video…it’s okay to admit it.) So when the mostly middling reviews for this album trickled in weeks if not months after its release, no one really paid much attention.
But in a year without a Wilco record this was the next best thing. Sure, Tweedy’s actual presence is scarce on the album, but his sound is evident throughout. Like Wilco, Golden Smog have broadened out beyond alt-country, while retaining that familiar twang. The sound is pure Americana in the vein of Wilco and The Band. The organ and two-part harmonies on “Strangers” sound straight from Big Pink. The album is sprawling but consistent, experimental but traditional. It might never reach the stratospheric heights of the bands name-dropped above, but Another Fine Day remains a very strong record, 15 warm upbeat tunes seemingly tailor-made for a summer road trip through the midwest.
Download:
MP3: Golden Smog-”Long Time Ago”
22. Britta Persson-Top Quality Bones and a Little Terrorist
Pull out a copy of Top Quality Bones and a Little Terrorist in front of your friends and there is a sizeable chance that within 50 seconds one of them will crack a groan-inducing joke about the album title that will involve our limited skirmish in the middle east and/or pornography. However, other than its absurd title, this album is nearly perfect, a spare, personal and trance-inducing work of art. As for what it sounds like, think of Joni Mitchell’s penchant with quivering pianos and acoustic guitar confessionals with Bjork’s off-kilter falsetto. And like both Mitchell and Bjork, Top Quality Bones excels at creating moods: at various times brooding, haunting and even up-beat and (almost) danceable.
Released in September, Persson’s import-album flew largely under the radar. Stylus was the only major website to review her import-only record (though Brooklyn Vegan praised it it here) but we gave it a Stylus Recommends, and for good reason. Britta Persson is a compelling songwriter and real knack for indulging an eccentric streak while balancing it with pleasant lo-fi folk melodies. So maybe her skills at naming an album aren’t fully formed. But give the girl a break. She’s just 24 years old and she’s Swedish. Which means she’s pretty much infallible (or so the world of 2006 popular music would have you believe).
Download:
MP3: Britta Persson-”Bellamy Straat Straat”
21. Camp Lo-Fort Apache (The Mixtape Album)
You’re probably thinking, this album again? Granted, it seems like overkill, considering I blogged about Fort Apache here, reviewed it for Stylus here, and named it the fourth best rap album of the year here. And no, I’m not getting a blizzard of PR e-mails from Lo’s publicists. Hell, it’s hard to figure out if these guys even have a real label, let alone a publicist. So consider the repitition a testament of my esteem for Sonny Chiba and Geechie Suede, one of the finest and unluckiest rap duos of all time. If you aren’t familiar with Lo’s saga, (covered at length in the Stylus piece), it isn’t hard to summarize: these guys got screwed. Hard. By label politics. Like these guys but much much worse.
You might recall the glistening sheen of “Luchini (This is It), or the brassy horns and nostalgiac stomp of “Black Nostaljack” on Lo’s 1997 debut, Uptown Saturday Night, but its follow-up, 2002’s rarely-heard Let’s Do it Again was similarly excellent and wildly underrated, a fate it seems certain to share with its follow-up, Fort Apache. I’ve written about Fort Apache’s virtues ad nauseum before, so it seems a bit redundant to impress exactly how technically brilliant Sonny Chiba and Geechie Suede are. All satin-smooth flows, complex slang and Golden Age-era chemistry, the pair call to mind a hybrid of Tribe Called Quest and Wu-Tang. But all the comparisons in the world can’t do these guys justice. In a rap world of carbon-copy cokeslingers, Lo are true originals.
Go to my original post for MP3’s (links still active)
20. Comets on Fire-Avatar
I once read an interview with Ethan Miller, lead singer of Comets on Fire and in this so-called “interview,” this so-called “Miller” tried to claim that he and the rest of the band don’t take acid. I call bullshit. First off, Comets on Fire are from Santa Cruz, a town where it’s easier to get acid than red meat. Second of all, Avatar itself sounds like the missing link between Moby Grape and the Quicksilver Message Service, all squalls of blistering psychedelic freek-outs set to howling bluesy vocals. Third, the fucking Sub Pop website itself describes Avatar as having “riffs from mighty warriors on acid.” Nice try Miller, but all those “kids, don’t do dope” proclamations don’t fool me.
So stoners and trippers of America, get yourself a copy of Avatar, the album of the year for the narcotically inclined. (Don’t believe that DARE shirt Miller was trying to rock. It’s just hipster irony) College kids this means you. Throw it on right after bong rip #4 and watch it perfectly soundtrack a night of staring at the black light with glazed eyes, studying the trippy suddenly glowing Pink Floyd poster on your wall. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that). Don’t be fooled by the respectable but unspectacular reviews that this album got (Pitchfork: 7.7…Stylus: B), Avatar is consistently mesmerizing. Retaining the thrashing guitars of their Sub Pop debut, Blue Cathedral, the Comets have expanded their sound to include slower, stoned ballad/jams, perfect to play on repeat when that high is waning. If you somehow aren’t convinced by the album, be sure to check out this band’s live show. The sound is so thunderous it practically melts faces.
Download:
MP3: Comets on Fire-”Dogwood Rust”
19. Danielson-Ships 
Out of the 100-plus albums I listened to this year, Ships is by far the best album that I expected to hate. That doesn’t exactly sound like a ringing endorsement, but it is. And to be completely honest, I can’t see how I would’ve thought otherwise, considering that reviews often compared Ships to the Blueberry Boat and Sung Tongs, two albums that will forever have a special rung in Passion of the Weiss hell for making me waste my hard-earned money on such indie-rock wankery. But it wasn’t just the Animal Collective and Fiery Furnaces comparisons that had me convinced Danielson would be Public Enemy #1 (or at least #3) in my mind. To quote Pitchfork’s review:
“In his decade-long run as the ringleader of art-rock collective the Danielson Famile, Daniel Smith has practically defined the term “cult artist.” His records– most of them highly conceptual paeans to God– can be exhausting, barraging listeners with surprise twists and turns and tangled song fragments. Smith himself has an inimitable vocal style: a twisted melange of bleating, twinging yelps, whoops, and screeches.”
I like my music listenable, so needless to say “bleating, twinging yelps” usually aren’t my thing. But beneath its penchant for avant-garde experimentation, Ships has a pop heart. Sure, it retains certain annoying qualities endemic in indie rock (song titles include “Ship That Majestic Suffix” and “He Who Flattened Your Flame is Gettin’ Torched) and sure, half the time I listen to it, I debate who would win the ultimate nautical-themed indie rock celebrity death match between Danielson and Colin “Herman Melville Gets Me Hot” Meloy (coming in 2007 on the Passion of the Weiss…stay tuned), but its quirkiness feels like real authentic weirdness rather than obnoxious gimmickry. Ships should serve as a blueprint for how to balance experimentation and melody, bleating yelps with infectious keyboard strokes and triumphant trumpet blasts. It might suffer at times under the weight of its own pretensions, but Ships is a fun and compelling record, one way better than it should have the right to be.
Download:
MP3: Danielson-”Did I Step on Your Trumpet”
18. The Game-Doctor’s Advocate
I’ve written at length about this album before, giving it a glowing review and naming it the third best hip-hop album of the year, so I won’t spill many more words in its defense. It’s earned a great deal of praise and an equally great deal of criticism, some of it warranted, most of it not. But I’d just like to add one more thing that Doctor’s Advocate’s detractors should consider. Namely, the high caliber of the guest appearances that it features. Now I know it seems a tad strange to defend a Game album by lauding people who aren’t the Game. But there’s often more to a guest appearance than meets the eye. Rappers are notoriously competitive and are loathe to get one-upped. That’s why it was such a big insult when Nas chided Jay-Z for getting killed by Eminem on “Renegade.”
In truth, the better a rapper is, the better his guest appearances are. Compare Kanye West’s pathetic and empty braggadocio on the Pharrell track “I’m #1″ to his well-written and funny verse on The Game’s “Wouldn’t Get Far.” But it wasn’t just Kanye who stepped up to the plate on Doctor’s Advocate. Veterans like Snoop, Daz, Kurupt, Nas, Xzibit deliver fierce verses recalling their mid-90s heyday. Why? Because they all know what you should: that like it or not The Game is one of the best five best rappers in major label hip-hop.
Download:
MP3: The Game-”Let’s Ride”
17. LCD Soundsystem-45:33
No, I haven’t jogged to this yet. But I imagine it’d be kinda’ cool. 45 minutes of light airy instrumentals, with soul samples and eerie voices scratched into the background. After all, what says “I really shouldn’t have eaten all those chips and guacamole when I had the beer munchies” than a ghostly voice buried in the mix, whispering “Shame on You.” Or something.
Forget any “sell out” accusations that people might’ve thrown at James Murphy, this is damned good stuff, even if Phil Knight is using the profits made from this Nike tie-in product, to buy his fourth vest made of real gorilla chest. Truth is, I’m becoming convinced that James Murphy is a genius. Yeah yeah yeah, I know that’s “like so totally dance-punk/2003″ (seriously guys, not everything’s a trend) but truth be told, I dismissed it as mere hipster blathering. But that all changed with 45: 33 and the recently leaked and staggeringly good, Sound of Silver. I’m convinced that this guy could write jingles for Cosco hot dogs and it would come out sounding transcendent (and tasting delicious.) Forget all that jogging nonsense that this track was made for and just focus on the fact that this might be the best electronic album made in 2006.
Download:
LCD Soundsystem-“Daft Punk is Playing at my House” (not from 45:33)
16. Brightblack Morning Light-Brightblack Morning Light
I have a feeling that if Brightblack Morninglight had gone to my alma mater Occidental College, they would’ve fit right in with the sizable hippie population, which generally broke down into two distinct tribes. The first were a sour-lipped and self-righteous bunch, future-hipsters-to-be, who listened to Rage incessantly (not like there’s anything wrong with that) and never seemed to do anything other than issue vague proclamations about “the man” despite having never actually worked a job or known anything other than their upper-class white bread private school lives. The other sect of hippies was more peaceful and fun-loving. The kinds of kids who might’ve belived in all that hippy dippy nonsense but were less prostylizing in their approach. The kinds of kids who you might’ve disagreed with occasionally, but were more than happy to kick it with for a quick game of hacky-sack or a trip down to their dorm room to take vaporizer hits underneath their poster of Bob Marley. In short, good people.
Brightblack Morning Light would seem to fall into the latter category. They aren’t about to shove their beliefs down your throat, even if it isn’t hard to tell where they stand (their website boasts links to the Circle of Life Foundation, Coyotes and Wolves Forever and Free Leonard Peltier). And like the friendly tribe of hippies at Occidental College, Brightblack Morning Light’s music seems less about convincing you to start the revolution and more about good vibes and like “the tunes… man!!” Accordingly, the tunes on Brightblack Morninglight, their Matador debut, are nothing short of stellar, 10 druggy songs emerging from the shadows, full of whispered vocals, rolling drums and drowsy Rhodes organs that sink fast into your dazed cerebellum. This isn’t protest music. This is the music for the after-party, around 3:00 a.m. when most of the guests have left and the girl next to you starts telling you about the cosmic experience she had at Burning Man 2002. Far out, man. Far out.
Download:
MP3: Brightblack Morning Light-”Everybody Daylight”
15. Swan Lake-Beast Moans
Out of any album on this list, this is the one most likely to inspire nasty anonymous comments. Hell on the Stylus message board, admitting to liking this album seemed tantamount to admitting that you’d gotten an obscure sexually transmitted sexually disease from a one-legged prostitute in Papua New Guinea. (sorry for the Papua New Guinea jokes…that’s the last time I get drunk and look up esoteric countries on Wikipedia…but seriously, did you know that Papua New Guinea has a greater density of languages than any other nation on earth except Vanuatu. I didn’t.) Okay, now where we? Yes, the Swan Lake album and how in spite of its sprawl, self-indulgence and occasional down right awful moments, it remains one of the finest records made in 2006.
The secret to enjoying this album? The wonder of iTunes. Uncheck the dud tracks (I recommend doing away with “City Calls,” “The Partisan He’s Got to Know,” and “Shooting Rockets”) and Beast Moans hits level of brilliance reached by few albums. For my money Dan Bejar’s work on “A Venue Called Rubella” “Widow’s Walk” and “The Freedom” outshines anything he did on Rubies. Meanwhile, Spencer Krug continues to make a case for best songwriter of his generation with gems like the reverb-soaked lament “All Fires,” the chaotic twinkles of “Bluebird” and the folky acoustic murmerings of “Are You Swimming in Her Pools.” If you aren’t a Destroyer or Spencer Krug fan, you’ll probably hate this album. But with some judicious editing, Beast Moans grows on you with each claustrophia-inducing listen.
Download:
MP3: Swan Lake-”A Venue Called Rubella”
14. Califone-Roots and Crowns
For some reason, every time I listen to Roots and Crowns, I get a vivid image of Beck sitting on a throne somewhere in a hidden annex in the massive Scientology Center on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles. Surrounded by Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes, their strangely coiffed alien baby and half the cast of That 70′s Show, this devious cabal plots how they are going to take over the world. Suddenly, one of the lower level Scientology minions bursts into the room, hanging his head with sorrow and holding a copy of Roots and Crowns in his hand. Approaching the stereo, he inserts the compact disc and presses play. Immediately, Beck runs out of the room crying, devastated, understanding that this was the album he was supposed to have made.
Not that there was anything so bad with The Information, the album that Beck released earlier this year. The tunes were catchy and all, but its just that things felt like Guero redux, which in turn was Odelay redux. And it certainly doesn’t come anywhere near Roots and Crowns. Sounding like a cross between Beck and Jeff Tweedy, Tim Rutili, the mastermind behind Califone has released a masterpiece of twisted folk, found sounds and poppy world music-inspired guitar licks. More than just a singer/songwriter album, each track on Roots and Crowns sounds meticulously constructed, brimming with snaking sitar lines, elegiac violins, fuzzy white noise and tear drop bass lines looming beneath the surface. If Mutations is your favorite Beck album, Roots and Crowns is the album for you, a moody wistful collection of 13 rootsy numbers, each of them intricately constructed and unmistakably gorgeous.
Download:
MP3: Califone-”A Chinese Actor”
13. Kelley Stoltz-Below the Branches
If I were Kelley Stoltz I’d be pissed. After all, the guy dropped one of the best records of 2006 on one of the best labels around (Sub Pop), got to tour with one of the biggest bands in rock music (The Raconteurs) and still, couldn’t get any buzz. (No buzz vertigo). Sure, a couple tracks appeared on Aquarium Drunkard and Fluxblog, but extremely negative Pitchfork and Stylus reviews helped squash any chance he had of getting much-deserved recognition for Below the Branches. (That’s unless you read You Set the Scene, who named this the #1 album of ‘06.)
Truthfully, I can’t figure out for the life of me why bloggers and the online music magazines didn’t pick up on this, considering its pedigree, its significant level of pop craftmanship and its sheer undeniable sense of fun. Indeed few records made in any year are more pleasant than Below the Branches, a breezy collection of 13 songs that at times recall Brian Wilson, Ram-era Paul McCartney and even Lou Reed (on the Velvet Underground-esque “The Rabbit Hugged the Hound)” Unlike the other singer/songwriters on this list, Stoltz’s melodies are imbued with a genuine sense of joy, bursting with upbeat percussion, rollicking pianos, warm sunny-day vocals and round jangly guitars. It’s enough to make you think that in spite of the minimal publicity, he’s received, Stoltz is doing just fine. And maybe next time he won’t release the summer album of the year in the middle of Feburary.
Download:
MP3: Kelley Stoltz-”Memory Collector”
12. The Decemberists-The Crane Wife
I certainly understand how people have problems with the Decemberists. In a way, listening requires a certain suspension of disbelief, You can’t ask yourself questions about how Colin Meloy picked up an English accent in Helena Montana. Or where he picked up the extensive nautical experience allowing him to non-ironically write songs entitled “The Island, Come And See, The Landlord’s Daughter, You’ll Not Feel The Drowning.” And of course, you have to try to pretend that you didn’t see this picture of him sitting on Janeane Garofolo’s lap.
But if you can forget all those things and focus on the music, there’s no denying that Meloy is fiercely talented. Read some of the Decemberists lyrics (bring a thesaurus), the guy can write. Truth is, few rock lyricists can match Meloy’s spare and elegant poetry. But lyrics had never been the problem for Meloy, pre-Crane Wife. The problem had been the simplicity of his arrangements, which often seemed boring and too-similar sounding over the course of a full LP. Not to mention, they put his strange voice front and center, never a good thing when you sound like Billy Budd. With The Crane Wife, the Decemberists simulaneously complexified and relaxed their sound adding funky organs, crashing drums, and an added sense of majesty, which served to enhance Meloy’s epic intentions. Hell, “The Perfect Crime 2″ is almost danceable. Meloy’s never going to be James Brown. But with The Crane Wife he succeeds in being the slightly cooler-than-the-rest college professor who starts doing the funky chicken after a few too-many drinks.
Download:
MP3: The Decemberists-”The Perfect Crime 2″
11. Benoit Pioulard-Precis
Great albums rarely blow your mind on first listen. Sure, every now and then a Funeral or a Yankee Hotel Foxtrot will be released and immediately embed itself into your musical DNA, as though it had always existed. But more often than not, great albums reveal themselves with slow subtle strides, each track quietly soundtracking some random task: a drive around the city, folding laundry, or writing sessions that spill into a ragged gray morning. Precis is that album that emerges in the squinting dawn, swirling with 15 songs full of haze and dust, smoky vocals and carelessly crafty acoustic guitars.
The first time I heard Precis I wasn’t very impressed. Singer-songwriters are a dime a dozen, and the bar to mediocrity is set rather low. (Bright Eyes, I see you). But every now and then, one emerges from the miasma and issues a debut so striking that you can’t help but notice. Just 22 years old, Benoit Pioulard is one of those rare talents. I hate to compare someone to Elliot Smith, but at times Precis seems reminiscent of Smith’s pre-Dreamworks records. The sound of a precocious talent, whispering hushed vocals seemingly on the verge of desperation. But whereas Smith attacked directly with plain vocals and hauntingly simple melodies, Pioulard buries his in a mess of ice and wind, and a rain of extra sounds that wash through the the album. His lyrical chops might not yet match Smith’s but his talent for composition is already fully formed. This is an outstanding debut, startlingly graceful but laden with heart and emotion. It might not yet be on the level of classic Elliot Smith or the artists mentioned above, but Pioulard flashes enough talent to leave you convinced that he might one day produce something equally brilliant.
Download:
MP3: Benoit Pioulard-”Triggering Back”
10. Belle & Sebastian-The Life Pursuit
Garnering prominent placement on most of the Year-End lists, headlining at the Hollywood Bowl with the LA Philharmonic and even peaking at #65 on the Billboard 200, Belle & Sebastian had a strong 2006. But when The Life Pursuit was released in early February, more than a few long-time fans grumbled about the band’s evolution. Indeed it seemed jarring to hear Stuart Murdouch sounding this funky, loose and confident. Gone was the timid sickly sounding vocalist behind If You’re Feeling Sinister, and in his stead, a real rock n’ roll frontman that led one of my friends to declare, “this isn’t why I listen to Belle & Sebastian. If I wanted this, I’d just listen to T. Rex.”
Indeed Marc Bolan’s sound repeatedly that comes to mind when hearing The Life Pursuit. But these aren’t exactly T. Rex’s champagne and coke fantasies, this is sunny gorgeous funk with a distinct pop sheen. You can take the boy out of the city. But you can’t take the twee out of Stuart Murdoch. Kinda. Never in my wildest 1997 dreams would I have expected B&S to produce blistering guitar solos as seen on “Sukie in the Graveyard,” or the gorgeous stomping piano and life-affirming horns of the single, “Funny Little Frog.” I suppose you could’ve seen this coming from Dear Catastrophe Waitress, but The Life Pursuit is the fullest realization of B&S’s new gloriously symphonic sound. It might not satisfy the kids who had Tigermilk posters taped to their bedroom walls, but Life Pursuit more than succeeds in its ambitions to provide a fun, intelligent pop record, that might one day be considered the best in the band’s already storied discography.
Download:
MP3: Belle & Sebastian-”Funny Little Frog”
9. Grizzly Bear-Yellow House
Yellow House seems refreshingly anachronistic in this age of MP3’s, the all-too-rare album that sounds incomplete when broken into individual songs, as though its full power is only released by its fluid sequencing and odd sounds bleeding from track to track. Nearly every review has compared Grizzly Bear to Animal Collective, but that comparison seems unfounded. Recorded at Grizzly Bear leader Ed Droste’s mom’s yellow house in Cape Cod, the band’s music has a wamrth and earthiness that Collective lack. Sure, their version of folk is freaky (No Silk), with strange campfire harmonies supplemented by a penchant for experimentation coming from bird chirps, weird electronic squiggles, the occasional Pro-Tools strings. But this album’s roots lie in deceivingly simple 60s pop, reminiscent of The Beach Boys, and at times even The Band.
In Alphabetical Order
Midlake-”Roscoe”
Peter, Bjorn & John-”Let’s Call It Off”
Sparrow House-”When I Am Gone”
Sunset Rubdown-”Shut Up I am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings”
