For a year that consistently felt like a do-over and a time loop at the same time, 2021 featured some great music from artists old and new.
Read MoreBest of 2020
One of the reasons I love music is it’s unique ability to lift us away from our troubles. And in a year that was chock full of moments that we all wanted to escape from, there were plenty of great albums to escape into.
Read MoreFavorite Albums of 2019
As I write this, I’m listening to Brittany Howard's stellar solo debut, Jaimie. Like it’s creator, it is singular and captivating. A true one-of-a-kind document. It stands on stage and commands your attention. It’s righteous, it parties, it chills, it rages, and it absolutely breaks your heart. All of the formidable talent that Howard showcased with Alabama Shakes is unleashed in full, and it is formidable. Jaime is genre-less and adheres to no I don’t envy her for having to follow-up such an incredible album. Taken as a whole, it’s my favorite of the year.
After that, it gets really tough to distinguish any sort of order.
Sharon Van Etten - Remind Me Tomorrow is simultaneously epic and intimate, which has always kind of been her specialty. Her turn toward a more synth-heavy sound that sounds like second nature on first blush. If Seventeen isn’t my song of the year, then I don’t have one. I’ve heard it dozens of times now and the hairs on the back of my neck still stand on end when she unleashes the “afraid that you’ll be just like me” crescendo. Although, when I caught her live at the Crystal earlier this year and she opened the show with a jaw dropping take on Jupiter 4 that was absolutely incredible. It’s so good to have Sharon back making music.
Actually, both of these albums highlight one of my favorite themes of my year in music - being pleasantly surprised by albums. So many of the artists that I was looking forward to hearing from this past year surprised in one way or another. Whether they expanded their sound, exceeded expectations, or showed a new side of themselves - there were a lot of new paths being taken and it was a pleasure to listen to.
That said, why not just get right to the most off-the-wall release of the year, Sturgill Simpson - Sound and Fury. It’s gritty, grimy, surprisingly danceable, and catchy AF. It’s the musical equivalent of giving a honky tonk band ecstasy and acid and letting them loose in the studio filled with black coffee, whiskey and effects pedals, with the best imaginable results. The anime short that it was released with is a thing in and of itself, despite being the last thing I’d expect from an ostensible country music artist. But when you look at the persona that Sturgill Simpson has cultivated over the years, it fits like a glove. In the the same way, the record itself is a sonic 180 from his last release, A Sailor’s Guide to Earth, which itself was a detour from Metamodern Sounds in Country Music. Sturgill is so steeped in country that he obviously feels comfortable expanding its definition to meet whatever he has in mind. So far, it’s working like gangbusters.
Robert Ellis is a singer-songwriter that I've been tracking for a few years now. He’s one of those “in a parallel universe, this person is insanely famous and successful” artists, and Texas Piano Man is another prime example of that. His smart, clever lyrics and finely-crafted songs are criminally under appreciated. While not groundbreaking in style or substance, it is nonetheless a front-to-back excellent album. He veers from wry humor (Fucking Crazy, Nobody Smokes Anymore, Passive Aggressive, Toro Chico) to beautiful examinations of the human experience (Aren’t We Supposed to Be in Love, Let Me In, Father) without batting an eye. It’s an impressive trick to make them all work together on the same album, but Ellis pulls it off in his blazing white suit with tails.
I honestly can’t remember when or where I first heard of Madlib, but I know that at the time he wasn’t even close to on my radar. He hasn't strayed far from it since. I’ve had his masterful reworking of old Blue Note jazz recordings, Shades of Blue, in rotation for years. With Freddie Gibbs I’m the opposite. I’m sure I’ve seen his name over the years, but I can’t recall where. Regardless, if it’s a Madlib album, I’m always going to at least give it a spin, and in the case of Bandana, it hits just right. Gibbs’ lyricism is often brutal, both in context and structure. The juxtaposing it with Madlib’s incredibly smooth beats is delicious, like pairing salty and sweet. If you don’t believe me, check out the best Tiny Desk Concert of 2019 (which is really saying something, given the year they’ve had!) -
There is forever a spot in my heart for ratty jacket and worn jeans rock records that are filled with good hooks, and this year Stef Chura - Midnight slotted into that spot perfectly. This album could’ve come out in 1993 and ruled MTV’s Buzz Bin and 120 Minutes. (If you’re old enough to know that that meant something) Despite a very strong opening, with the jaunty All I Do Is Lie, it manages to get better as it goes on. The building tension of Sincerely Yours and 3D Girl cathartically release in the shambolic Sweet Sweet Midnight is a prime example. Midnight is filled with songs that play off of each other and build on each other’s energy in that way that some albums inexplicably do. It just works.
Sometimes, you just want to sit back and vibe out to some bouncy bass lines, buoyant strings, soulful horns, and a smooth, crooning voice. Iceland native Junius Meyvant has you covered, serving up a heaping helping of blue-eyed soul on Across the Borders, his most complete album yet. Excellently produced and incredibly tight throughout, it floats above the cares of the world instead of addressing them head-on. When the world is on fire and all you want to do is get away from it, you can count on the native of an island that’s about as disconnected from the rest of the world as you can get to deliver.
Speaking of getting away from it all, let's head up to the Northwest Territories of Canada, north of Yellowknife, atop Great Slave Lake. Just to find someplace quiet and peaceful and sit. That’s exactly what I want to do when I listen to Yellowstone, the achingly honest album by Digawolf. Lead singer, guitarist, and songwriter, Diga, is a member of the Tlicho nation in Canada’s Northwest Territories. After starting things off with a stomping rocker By the Water, the album quickly mellows. Songs like Northern Love Affair and the title track, Yellowstone, are soaked through with the harsh beauty and icy mystery of the far north. “Touch my soul and I’m forever yours / I will dream a thousand years just to walk with you” is a line that speaks to anyone who has a homeplace that holds their heart, regardless of how far away or long ago.
Chaz Bear (ne’ Budnick), the mastermind behind Toro y Moi, has always been blessed with the ability to conjure a killer bassline or catchy back beat. Despite that, most of his releases since 2010’s Causers of This and its follow up, Underneath the Pine, have been uneven. Outer Peace is one of his best outings in years. The songwriting is crisp and clever, the production is on-point from start to finish.
Timothy Showalter’s career as Strand of Oaks has been one wild ride. From self-releasing contemplative, quiet folk records to releasing two of the better rock albums of the past decade in 2014’s HEAL and last year’s stellar comeback, Eraserland, he has remade himself and rebooted his career more than a few times over the years. Eraserland sees him staring down 40, surrounded by friends like Jason Isbell and most of My Morning Jacket, making some of the most accessible rock and roll since Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers were in their prime.
So that’s the top ten. But there were so many albums and artists this year that put out some really good music. Narrowing them down is such a tough thing to do. If I had put this list together a month ago, or if I was in a slightly different mood, it could’ve been vastly different. That’s true every year, but it feels especially so in 2019. These albums were also very good and well worth your time.
Sudan Archives - Athena
Spielbergs - This is Not the End
Control Top - Covert Contracts
Anna Tivel - The Question
Apex Manor - Asked and Answered
Saul Williams - Encrypted and Vulnerable
Lizzo - Cuz I Love You
Jenny Lewis - On the Line
Favorite Albums of 2018
It’s 2019, people! We are living in the future. Exciting, right? Doesn’t it feel like just last year it was 2011? No? Just me? And I suppose I’m the only one making “1999 was only ten years ago” mistakes, too, huh?
2019 is a year that seemed impossible to me when I was a child growing up in the ’80s. The 2000s I could kinda picture. It’s hard not to think ahead a few years when Prince is singing about 1999 from every stereo around you. Beyond that seemed like a no-man’s land, though. Are you familiar the oldie “In the Year 2525” by Zager and Evans? Probably not. Here, check this out
Strangely dark for a summer Billboard chart topper, right? In 1969, no less. I listened almost exclusively to oldies radio as a kid, and that song was heavy in my local station’s rotation, so I heard it often. Whenever I thought about a time past the year 2000, that’s exactly what it felt like — some far-off date in the future when humanity and the world we’ve created are barely recognizable. And now here we are. Things pretty much the same, only we zip around on e-scooters. What a time to be alive.
If you’re anything like me, you’ve waded through dozens of Best Of, Top This, and Best That lists over the past few months. Pile those on top of the Most Anticipated This, That, and the Other lists and it can be exhausting just trying to comprehend what the hell happened in 2018. Like most years, I’m not sure if I managed to have my finger on the pulse of every great piece of pop culture, or if I missed everything that really mattered and should take some time to re-evaluate my life.
Typically, I would have been right there in the middle of those glossy lists, trotting out my own humble favorites on my scrap of the internet before the calendar turns over. I’ve been doing it in one form or another since 2002. It all started when some friends and I sat down in the control room of our college radio station to discuss our top albums of the year, which of course sprawled into a multi-hour argument about music and pop culture that, surprisingly, still makes me laugh when I listen back to it today. I even flew back from Portland the next year to do it again. The year after that, I called in on a very dodgy early version of Skype the year after that. From then on, it’s been strictly a blog thing.
Like the other list-makers, the schedule had become second-nature. I start thinking about what albums are first half of the year contenders over Memorial Day weekend, and then start contemplating my full list over Thanksgiving weekend.
This year, though, I decided to wait.
It never occurred to me to wait until someone I follow on Twitter wrote that all of the year-end lists should come out not in November and December, but in January, after the year is actually over. That way you have more time to digest the year as a whole. It made such sense that I wondered why it had never occurred to me before.
Over and over, I’ve been burned by some album that I overlooked late in the year, only to have it crash into my orbit after I’ve posted my picks for the year. It’s happened almost every single year I’ve been at this.
The earliest one I remember well is an album by Tim Fite. He self-released Over the Counterculture on the internet way back in the halcyon days of 2006, when releasing albums online was still an oddity worth noting. I didn’t stumble upon it until after I’d published my list for that year and was so mad I ended up posting an addendum almost immediately. It’s a psych-folk hip-hop amalgamation that works better than that description would lead you to believe. You still can, and should, download it here. It’s a real time capsule of the aughts.
More recently, in 2017, I missed The Cribs’ excellently loud and grimy 24/7 Rockstar Shit and Autonomics’ power-pop gem Debt Sounds, and spent all of January and most of last February kicking myself over it. (and the rest of the year listening to them both over and over)
So this year, instead of cramming month’s worth of analysis and hand-wringing into a few frantic hours at the end of December, I waited.
I also listened more than I have in awhile. Casually, not critically. I got up and did stuff — cleaned the house, puttered around the yard, worked out, walked the dogs — it gave me another chance to live with that particular album in my head. I let my mind wander, remembering where I was when I first listened to it, how I felt, who I was with, what I was doing.
And that’s really how we enjoy music, isn’t it? Not for all of the rank and file aspects of who wrote what song or where the drum parts were recorded, or what label put it out. Sure, those tidbits help inform what it is and who created it. It fills out the narrative. But what really matters is how that particular album or song makes you feel. How you the fun little breakdown before the second chorus in song five makes your knees go weak every time. Or the way that the guitar shimmers on track seven puts an extra spring in your step. That amazing little bass line hiding just behind the guitars and organ on track nine is waiting to make you smile every time. And then there’s that contented feeling you get after the last song goes out on the perfect note. That’s what matters, how music can capture and cauterize a singular moment in your brain.
I’ve always loved the way that a single song, or album, or artist can transport me back to a moment so completely that I can almost taste and smell and feel it materialize around me. I even love it when it’s some ear worm-y song I never liked is forever stuck in my head, regardless. Like how Amy Grant songs takes me back to the early ’90s, laying around on Sunday mornings, reading my dad’s Time-Life The Old West books while listening to Casey Casem’s Top 40 Countdown. Y’know, normal kid stuff.
So what got stuck in my head, in a good way, from the past year? Let’s do a nice, sloppy, narrative list that follows no particular order and has no set amount of entries.
One album from this past year that really felt like an old staple right from the jump was Middle Kids’ debut LP, Lost Friends. I really enjoyed their eponymous 2017 EP and while Lost Friends isn’t perfect, it has a real electricity to it. Sara and I caught them at Mississippi Studios this past summer and left feeling like it had been our one chance to catch the band at an intimate venue before they come back to town headlining the Crystal Ballroom or opening for someone big at the Moda Center.
Jeff Rosenstock more or less opened 2018 with POST- (it came out on January 1st, 2018), his rollicking, cathartic follow-up to 2016’s over-stimulated /WORRY/. POST- is filled with sing-along choruses and enough energy to buoy even the weakest tracks, it’s as sloppy and fun as his live shows, and sometimes you just need that kind of album in your life.
Speaking of catharsis, IDLES’ Joy as an Act of Resistance takes a fistful of seething rage, beats it into a shiv, grabs another fistful of broken glass, and starts swinging wildly. There’s an almost gleeful anger to lead singer Joe Talbot’s lyricism that really strikes a chord with the general sense of unease that many are feeling nowadays. (hence the album title, I guess) /Joy as an Act of Resistance/ is barely-contained and righteous as fuck and its glorious.
I’ve always been a fan of confident women, and 2018 featured no shortage of great albums by talented women artists.
Dessa’s first new album in five years, Chime, only gets better upon repeat listens. I’ve never been a huge fan of melodic hip hop. Her thing isn’t usually my thing. But there’s a certain strut to this album that makes it so magnetic. Plus, she can really write (her first book came out last fall) and the production by the Doomtree crew is top notch.
The always amazing Neko Case dropped the captivating Hell-on, her first solo album in five years. What can I say about Neko? Ever since she stepped out from the shadow of the New Pornographers with her solo work — not an easy task, especially when she’s also a New Pornographer! — each album has been more entrancing, more fully realized, more impressive than the last. I don’t even know if I could pick my favorite song off of Hell-on. Each time I hear one, I have to listen to the rest.
Actually, I take that back, it’s Curse of the I-5 Corridor. Easily. But the rest are great, too.
Courtney Barnett’s second full-length, Tell me How You Really Feel, combines the best of power pop and grunge with prime Neil Young-ish song craft.
Mitski’s Be The Cowboy stole my heart. Kinda like this a cappella performance of Nobody steals your breath away -
Black Belt Eagle Scout’s Mother of My Children rocks me as much as it haunts me. I must have listened to the single, Soft Stud, a couple dozen times before the rest of the album was released.
Speaking of northwest locals, Laura Gibson, Laura Veirs, and Haley Heynderickx all released wonderful albums this year, too. Plus, there was also some really solid new music from Natalie Prass, Amanda Shires, Tune-Yards, Cat Power, Dream Wife, and Sudan Archives — and I KNOW that’s only a fraction of what I should be mentioning.
Basically, 2018 was awash in some great music made by really talented women.
Every year, I get caught up in a a little bit of jazz. My understanding of the intricacies of the genre isn’t as deep as my appreciation. I’ll never be able to tell you who was in Miles Davis’ second great quintet off of the top of my head, or be able to rattle off what genre of jazz an artist inhabits, but I know what I like when I hear it. Especially since whatever that “it” is tends to result in me listening to the album from front to back repeatedly.
Last spring, I stumbled upon Kamaal Williams’ debut, The Return. It’s a swirl of mellow and funky grooves, the kind of album I can just get lost in over and over.
Speaking of great grooves, Portland’s own 1939 Ensemble’s latest, New Cinema is percussive tour de force that stays int he pocket from start to finish. David, Jose, and the gang have always made compelling music, but /New Cinema/ feels like a big step forward.
I also really enjoyed R+R=Now’s Collagically Speaking and Kamasi Washington’s Heaven and Earth. They’re both as forward-thinking as anything out there right now.
So, did I use this lag in putting out my list to listen to some albums that I had missed during 2018? As a matter of fact, I did. Portland husband and wife duo bed. released their long-awaited debut, Replay, in December, and it does not disappoint. After roughly a dozen listens over the past month and a half, I’m pretty much in agreement with my buddy Jerad Walker over at opbmusic, who calls it a “shoegaze masterpiece.”
That extra time also gave me a chance to go back and give /Be the Cowboy/ another listen. I’m so glad I did. I don’t know if it got lost in the shuffle or what, but on second listen, it shined. That whole thing is its own mood.
I was blown away by *Dream Wife’s* self-titled debut. Alice Go’s guitar especially stands out. It’s edgy and staccato and brilliant. I’ll definitely be keeping an ear out for more from them.
Post Animal’s Shame has dipped in and out of my radar since it came out. So I took some time to dip back in. Psych rock has always been a fickle thing for me. Some days, I’m all about it. But on others, it’s the worst. Post Animal caught me on a good day, and not just because of their crazy-ass video for Gelatin Mode -
I took some more time to digest Ordinary Corrupt Human Love by shoegaze/metal band Deafheaven. It came out this past summer and scratched an itch I never know I had.
And I finally found time to sit down with the late Richard Swift’s posthumous The Hex, a jaunty, sweeping nugget of pop genius. It sounds far too alive for his passing to be true.
So that’s my year in music for 2018. Other stuff happened that I forgot to mention, like a bunch of sessions with opbmusic that you can check out over here, and some really good shows that showed up for from time to time.
2019 has already had a handful of solid albums come out. Sharon Van Etten, The Delines, and Aesop Rock have already graced us with some good music. I’m sure there’s much more to come as we continue on into the futuristic year 2019…
Favorite Albums of 2017
The end of the year is a little over a week away and 2017 is wrapping up just as I expected. I’m sitting here on the Friday before Christmas, scrambling to complete a list that I’ve had literally an entire year to put together.
Procrastination — 1 / Nate — 0.
Let me be honest from the jump — I didn’t pay nearly as much attention to music this year as I usually do. When I first took note of it earlier in the year, I assumed that the inevitable decline of interest had finally caught up with me in my late 30s. I’m talking about that point where people slowly give up trying to keep up with new music/film/TV and stick to more well-worn pathways.
But that’s not really it. Okay, maybe a little.
I have lost a step. That’s undeniable. The “new” bands that I’m “discovering” already have an album or a handful of EPs under their belt. The bleeding edge is beyond my reach. A couple of years ago, that would’ve bothered me.
The bigger reason is that my mind has been…preoccupied, to put it mildly. Turns out, its stressful to watch a vindictive bull stumble around a china shop (or a horse loose in a hospital, if you prefer) on a daily basis, especially when they’re the face of the country you love. More than that, though, it’s the constant lies and deceit.
When I get frustrated, depressed, or angry, I turn to music. It’s always been my safest refuge.
It wasn’t easy to keep up with all of the really strong albums that came out in 2017. There weren’t many that completely blew me away, but plenty grabbed my attention. To awkwardly slip into a baseball analogy — there were a lot of stand-up doubles this year, not many home runs.
Whittling down all of the albums and artists that I enjoyed was difficult. This could’ve easily been extended to a Top 15 or even Top 20. But again, procrastination wins. I’ll include some of the other albums I considered at the end, just to be safe.
Here’s my list, in no particular order.
Yeah, yeah, technically Mike and El dropped RTJ3 in December of 2016. But that was after I put out my 2016 list, so it has to be in this years’.
It’s not as classic as RTJ1 and it’s not as bombastic as RTJ2. But like those two albums, it matched the cultural moment almost perfectly, sliding seamlessly into the zeitgeist.
It also helps to have the best producer working in hip hop today. El-P has been on a completely different level for well over a decade. Teaming up with Killer Mike just put him over the top. Every track crackles and thumps and turns your head.
This album makes me ache for my youth. The gauzy pop hooks that surround Molly Rankin’s breezily direct delivery take me back to any summer evening between the ages of 16 and 24. Right in that moment before the last rays of the day bleed out of the sky, when the smell of dew in the air is intoxicating.
There’s aching and longing here. “Don’t sit by the phone for me / wait at home for me / all alone for me / your face was supposed to be hanging over me like a rosary / so morose for me / seeing ghosts of me / writing oaths for me” But Rankin doesn’t bask in it so much as exorcise it.
Antisocialites is one of those albums that bears repeated listens. I love that more and more bands these days are putting effort into crafting full albums, instead of a few singles with some slop slapped around it. And *Alvvays* has created — both sonically and lyrically — a wonderful album.
Priests — Nothing Feels Natural
You ever see a band live that blows you away so completely that their album is a letdown to listen to afterwards? Not because the album sounds bad, but because the band was so incredibly locked in and the vibe in the room was perfect.
Sara and I saw *Priests* at a small art-house show back in January and that’s exactly how it went down. Nothing Feels Natural is a fantastic, taut, raucous album. It’s incredibly poised for a full-length debut. But it doesn’t match how great they are live. Go see *Priests*. Now.
We already knew that Kendrick Lamar was a powerhouse storyteller. Good Kid M.A.A.D. City taught us that. And we knew he wasn’t afraid to expand his sound after To Pimp A Butterfly blew our minds.
But Lamar has honed himself to an even finer edge on DAMN. It’s more raw, more urgent. This is the sound of pretense being set to the side so real shit can be heard loud and clear.
The National — Sleep Well Beast
*The National* are a band best heard in small, partially underground clubs. Some place that’s a mirror of their sound — part jazz club, part industrial space where the thundering drums echo for days.
You can hear it from the opening notes of “Nobody Else Will Be There,” dark and dusty and sensual as ever.
Sleep Well Beast is a return to the more claustrophobic sound of Boxer and Alligator. The expansiveness bursts forth on occasion, but this is an intimate record. And it’s not because the mix often makes it sound like Matt has crawled into your head. (in a good way!) It feels like the band found dark, sweaty, boxy studio and holed up in it for a month or two.
Call me crazy, but I love those kind of records.
I’ve always been a sucker for Americana. Give me a pedal steel guitar in a song steeped with longing and I fall head over heels every time. It’s the music of the boxy flyover states that I call home. So imagine my surprise when I discovered that Middle Kids are closer to Middle Earth than Minnesota.
By now, I’m used to hearing that Americana sound from Sweden’s The Tallest Man on Earth and First Aid Kit, or Lay Low out of Iceland. I suppose it makes sense in Australia, too. It has, like the US, experienced a “settling of the frontier” in the past 150 years. That sense of expansiveness and the wide-open sound that comes with it fits for Aussies, too.
There is a confidence here that makes this EP feel like a full-length. There’s a toe-tapping drive forward that makes it stretch beyond it’s six songs, hinting at something bigger over the horizon.
It must get exhausting to be Britt Daniel and crew. Since 2001’s Kill the Moonlight, Spoon has been the very picture of consistency. Even the minor stumbles, like 2010’s muted Transference, are solid records. While standouts like 2007’s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga still sizzle ten years on.
Hot Thoughts is a strut. It’s taut and confident. It’s the kind of album Prince would’ve made if he grew up listening to indie rock and Motown in equal measure. This is the sound of a band at the height of it’s powers, doing whatever it wants. But then again, Spoon has always sounded that way.
Hurray for the Riff Raff — The Navigator
I’m not sure what it is, exactly, that gives a voice authenticity. But whatever it is, Alynda Segarra has it in spades. She wraps it around whatever she’s singing and makes it completely hers. She’s defiant and self-assured, without the need to veer into bombast.
“Do your best, but fuck the rest. Be something” she sings on the plaintive Pa’lante (which means “forward”). It’s not necessarily delivered in anger, but with an internal steeliness that is indomitable.
The slow build of that song mirrors the arc of the album. And it’s fist-in-the-air culmination lays bare a powerful force that had simmered throughout. It’s a hopeful, constructive, progressive drive that calls for building off the past to make a better future, together. Oh, and on top of all that, it’s just a great listen!
Waxahatchee — Out in the Storm
You know those movies that, if you ran across them on cable back in the day, you HAD to stop what you were doing? Even today, if I’m channel-surfing and stumble upon Shawshank Redemption or Die Hard, then I have to sit and watch the rest. That’s the kind of album Out in the Storm is. If I hear one song on shuffle, I HAVE to pull up the album and listen to the rest.
Out in the Storm is one of the most complete front-to-back albums I’ve heard this year. Though it is a bit strange to hear echoes of ’90s alternative bombast on a record put out by a 20-something. Given current musical trends, though, I’m learning to live with it.
Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit — The Nashville Sound
From the opening note of The Nashville Sound, there’s no place I would rather be than driving down the gravel roads I grew up criss-crossing. Windows down. The sweet smell of high summer in the air. Dust billowing up behind like a thunderhead. And Jason Isbell slinging harsh truths and choice lines on ten songs that should all be in heavy rotation on your local country station.
Albums that are also very good
(Bandcamp links when available)
Japandroids — Near to the Wild Heart of Life
White Reaper — World’s Best American Band
Dan Auerbach — Waiting on a Song
Algiers — Underside of Power
Ted Leo — The Hanged Man
Favorite Albums of 2016
This year man, this freakin’ year…
With the unrelenting torrent of bullshit that was most of 2016 almost behind us, it’s time to look back at one of the bright spots in a year full of dark corners —the music. Much has been made of all of the musical icons that we lost in the past year. But amid all that loss were some really great records that should give any music lover hope for the future.
Emo’s revival is apparently in full swing. I was not prepared for this. Emo was a brief but brightly burned memory in my early 20s that I had almost entirely buried by 2005 (a handful of Get Up Kids songs notwithstanding). I must say that some of the results of this revival — PUP, Pinegrove, The Hotelier, Martha — have been much more promising than the whiny, heartsleeved Dashboard Confessional-clones that overwhelmed the genre the last time around. Heck, early 2000s proponents of sweaty, underwear-only house parties Jimmy Eat World even got a fair amount of publicity for their latest album, Integrity Blues.
But I digress…
The newest wave of “outlaw” country music continued to spread it’s wings. I grew up with Johnny, Willie, Waylon, and Merle, so it has been a real treat to see Sturgill Simpson, Robert Ellis, and Portland’s-own Richmond Fontaine release fantastic albums this year.
Jazz, soul, and funk kept seeping into hip-hop. Or maybe it’s the other way around…either way, the result was a summer dominated by Anderson .Paak ’s stellar Malibu. (nxworries wasn’t too shabby, either)
And speaking of summer airwave dominance and hip-hop, the Bay Area’s Kamaiyah came out of left field and dropped A Good Night in the Ghetto, basically torpedoing anyone else’s chance of having the jam of the summer. If you didn’t bounce to “I’m On” at least once this year, you were missing out.
Amidst all of that, we had some stellar debuts (Sioux Falls’ Rot Forever), haunting finales (David Bowie’s Blackstar), forceful follow-ups (Savages’ Adore Life, Aan’s Dada Distractions), supergroup albums (Case/Lang/Veirs), rousing returns (A Tribe Called Quest) and so much more.
So let’s get to it.
Sturgill Simpson — A Sailor’s Guide to Earth
Coming off the breakout that was Metamodern Sounds in Country Music, it was anyone’s guess what Sturgill Simpson would come up with next. There are country elements here, sure, but not as many as you’d expect. I’d be willing to bet that there are as many instances of strings as there are of pedal steel. Some songs sound more like some ’60s era Stax recordings than anything else, especially the rollicking Keep It Between the Lines. The second-to-last track, Oh Sarah, is a chamber-pop masterpiece worthy of Brian Wilson. For a record that is all over the map, stylistically, A Sailor’s Guide to Earth still feels tight and cohesive. If Sturgill Simpson is the new face of outlaw-country, at least we know it will keep us on our toes.
Adrianne Lenker’s voice is a force to be reckoned with. It’s bold and brassy, yet on the verge of breaking into a thousand pieces at the same time. The same could be said for Buck Meek’s jittery, livewire guitar playing. Together, they paint bold strokes across these songs of friendship and love and life. Masterpiece feels like the result of years of songwriting, the culmination of a band’s celebrated career, not a debut from a band formed only a few years ago.
Kamaiyah — A Good Night in the Ghetto
While my introduction to hip-hop came at the hands of Run DMC, Sir Mix-a-Lot, and LL Cool J, it was The Chronic and Doggystyle that really captured my attention (thanks, Dre). A revival of that era of West-coast sound is all over A Good Night in the Ghetto. You can bounce to Kamaiyah just as easily as you can sit back and appreciate her raw honesty.
Car Seat Headrest — Teens of Denial
If I was twenty years younger, I would have spent most of the past year scribbling Car Seat Headrest lyrics onto notebook pages. Making lines into little totems and talismans to stave off the harsh reality of being a teen. Will Toledo’s bedroom project came into the full light of the studio with Teens of Denial, an album filled with witty observation, razor-sharp guitars, and thunderous drums — just a few of my favorite things.
By the time the horns kick in on I Have Been to the Mountain, I was hooked. There is a certain apocalyptic sound to the songs on Singing Saw, a dusty not-long-for-this-earth feel. At the same time, they are precious things, carefully crafted and finely tuned. Morby’s deliberate delivery and cunning lyricism can bite hard when it needs to. There’s a lot about this record that is basic, but sometimes the basics done very well are better than any gimmick you could come up with.
It’s difficult to give a nod to a musical genre’s heyday without getting tangled up in nostalgia. The music itself can end up evoking a bygone moment, instead of speaking to the present condition. So imagine my pleasant surprise upon hearing Malibu for the first time. Anderson .Paak easily straddles hip-hop, funk, and soul. And even though he is reaching backwards, it feels like something altogether new. Using a live band, the Free Nationals, helps. I’m occasionally a willing luddite when it comes to electronic music, because things funk and soul (and blues, and rock and roll) sound rudderless when there isn’t a beating heart playing the notes. If I numbered this “best of” list, Malibu would be right up at the top.
“This don’t feel like livin’, just surviving.” feels like the entire narrative of Robert Ellis’ self-titled album distilled into a single line. The songs, even on the outwardly jaunty Drivin’, are mediations on restlessness and broken relationships. Every time you start to settle in, his aching lyrics remind you that things are not okay. Happiness is fleeting, life is full of fitful moments of joy, and in the end, none of us really know where we’re going.
Drive-by Truckers — American Band
Patterson Hood has always had a gift for capturing the essence in an elegantly blunt manner. Both Hood and Mike Cooley are in rare form, lyrically, on American Band. “If you think it wasn’t racial when they shot him in his tracks, well, I guess that means that you ain’t black, it means that you ain’t black.” That’s from the raw, open wound of What It Means, just one haymaker in a song that’s full of them. It’s surrounded by songs that tackle head-on the NRA and gun rights (Ramon Casiano), school shootings (Guns of Umpqua), and just plain defiance in the face of obstacles (Surrender Under Protest), it’s an album that feels like essential listening for our times.
From the opening drumbeat of Lookout Aan’s sophomore effort is cocky and bombastic. There is a singular focus that shines through the course of this perfectly balanced nine-track onslaught that is undeniable. Their 2014 debut, Amor Ad Nauseum was stellar, but it hinted at something deeper, and that shows up in full force on Dada Distractions. It takes a ton of confidence to seemingly effortlessly blend so many elements from the last 50 years of popular music, while still sounding so singular, and Bud Wilson and company seem to do it without even breaking a sweat.
Sioux Falls (now Strange Ranger) — Rot Forever
This album sprawls. Clocking in at 72 minutes and 16 tracks, it’s quite a debut. You’d expect to hear over-indulgence, and there is that, but not in a bad way. The opening track, the excellent 3fast, clocks in at 6:19, so you know from the get-go what you’re in for. There is a charm in the roughness around it’s edges, like a practice session we’ve been allowed to sit in on. The result feels surprisingly intimate, for all of it’s noise and bluster. And if that practice session ended up running longer than expected, it’s hard to mind too much, because Rot Forever is a good hang.
I’m a sucker for ethereal, dreamy pop infused with a post-apocalyptic tenor and expansive lyrics. That is to say, Not to Disappear is right in my wheelhouse. New Ways, Numbers, Alone/With You, and To Belong are all songs that make me stop in my tracks and pay attention. And the uptempo No Care practically thrums with nervous energy. I’m not entirely sure where Daughter goes from here, because another album along the same lines would feel stagnant, but as a stand-alone statement, Not to Disappear speaks pretty loudly.
There’s a certain rough, bedroom-recording feel to Cardinal that I can’t quite place. There’s a uncertain melancholy running through the whole album. “how long will i wander by your side / how long will i wander? / i wonder if that’s what it might feel like / i figured i’d warn ya” sings Evan Stephens Hall on Visiting. And yet, it’s hard not to feel a little more grounded after listening to Cardinal. Speaking so directly to the human condition tends to bond us to one another, I guess. This album reminds me very much of The Promise Ring’s stellar Wood/Water, in a good way.
---
Also excellent —
A Tribe Called Quest — We got it from Here…Thank You 4Your service
LVL UP — Return to Love
Tom Brosseau — North Dakota Impressions
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds — Skeleton Tree
St. Paul and the Broken Bones — Sea of Noise
Angel Olsen — MY WOMAN
Junius Meyvant — Floating Harmonies
The Paranoid Style — Rolling Disclosure
Blind Pilot — And Then Like Lions
case/lang/veirs — S/T
Richmond Fontaine — You Can’t Go Back if There’s Nothing to Go Back To
Laura Gibson — Empire Builder
Telethon — Citrosis
Thao & The Get Down Stay Down — A Man Alive
Savages — Adore Life
David Bowie — Blackstar
Summer Cannibals — Full of It
Favorite Albums of 2015
With each passing year, it gets harder and harder for me to make these lists. It’s not that I’m less interested in music. More like my fingers seem to get further and further from the pulse of the music industry and what is popular now.
I’m 36, so this was bound to happen. There are whole new genres of music that I am simply not aware of.
Dubstazz? A mashup of dubstep and jazz? Really?! This was a style of music that someone actually thought the world needed to hear?
CDM? I can’t even stand to listen to mainstream country music or mainstream dance music. Why would I subject myself to Country Dance Music? In fact, why would actual /fans/ of country do this to themselves? Two scions of country music who knew how to whip a crowd into a dancing fury, Earl Scruggs and Lester Flatt, have got to be turning in their graves.
Heroine Pop? A good friend played a Lana Del Ray track for me a couple years ago. It wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t half great, either. It just was. And really, let’s be honest here, Lana Del Ray, Charli XCX, and Iggy Azalea sound like second-tier 1980s pornstarlet names.
Despite all of that, over the past year I have noticed a few interesting and encouraging trends in music — jazz making it’s way back into indie rock, the rise of grunge-revivalists, more politically-aware songwriters finding their voice. Foremost for me has been the rise of the empowered, no-nonsense female lead singer. I’ve long been a fan of Neko Case and Sleater-Kinney and other female-fronted groups. And while they obviously had some sort of influence on the younger generation, there’s something different about this younger crop of artists.
The songwriting feels much more like a statement of their womanhood rather than an excuse. Too often, it felt like female artists either avoided their sex almost entirely, fell back on stereotypes, or subsumed it by trying to write and sing like “the guys” did. While they were consistently turning out very good music, none felt fully authentic.
That’s not a knock on those artists at all. It’s an acknowledgment of the societal and generational norms that they operated within and the music industry that shaped their sound in one way or another so that it would palatable to the right audiences.
For example — No Doubt’s “Just A Girl” pushed against the silly stereotypes that confined women at the time, but Gwen singing in her cutsy, pouty little girl voice effectively neutered the harshest social critiques in the song.
So when I hear musicians like Bully singer/songwriter/guitarist Alicia Bognanno sing about one-night stands, waiting for her period, and getting hit by a man — with no apologies, no excuses, and an attitude that definitely does not give a single fuck — the difference is palpable.
It’s also wonderful.
So many very good records came out of that younger crop of female artists this year. We were treated to great records from Summer Cannibals, Hop Along, Ibeyi, Courtney Barnett, Alabama Shakes, Coleen Green, Torres, Eskimeaux, Palehound, Beach House, and Natasha Kmeto, and many more.
Women making music that is true to their experience without trying to sand off the rough edges or cater to male expectations of female artists is exhilarating to hear. That punkish, Patti Smith-type of self-confidence is, honestly, incredibly attractive — and not necessarily in a sexual way. I’ve always enjoyed hearing people who are being true, in one way or another, to themselves. It takes guts to put yourself out there like that.
That true-ness is a common thread in the records that caught my ear this year (and, honestly, most years), so why not jump right into my favorite records from?
Recently, I’ve held off on actually arranging my picks in a true, numbered “Top 10,” opting for a random list. It’s a cop-out, of course, but one I readily took. But as I started putting together my list this year, it became clear almost immediately what my top two records were, so why not let that continue?
Here are some of my favorite records from the year that was.
1. Titus Andronicus — A Most Lamentable Tragedy
2. Kendrick Lamar — To Pimp A Butterfly
6. Sleater-Kinney — No Cities to Love
7. Protomartyr — The Agent Intellect
8. Jason Isbell — Something More Than Free
9. Young Fathers — White Men Are Black Men, Too
10. Courtney Barnett — Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit
Just missed the cut
Dan Deacon — Glass Riffer
Summer Cannibals — Show Us Your Mind
Father John Misty — I Love You, Honeybear
Tom Brosseau — Perfect Abandon
Joe Pug — Windfall
The Mountain Goats — Beat the Champ
Alabama Shakes — Sound and Color
The Tallest Man on Earth — Dark Bird is Home
Leon Bridges — Coming Home Algiers — Algiers
Natasha Kmeto — Inevitable
Son Little — Son Little
Beach Slang — The Things We Do to Find People Who Feel Like Us
The Districts — A Flourish and a Spoil
Favorite Albums of 2014
Top 50, Top 100, Top 25, Top 5, Top 10. They’re everywhere. A million different opinions flood the internet this time of year, each vying for your attention, screaming “Me, me mememe! I have the best taste in music!!”
If we’re being honest, any and all of these lists are entirely subjective (especially this one), and in the end, are kind of pointless. Yet still we feel the need to share. It’s a natural by-producte of any sort of artistic expression. Once a piece of art touches you, you feel the need to share it with those around you in hopes that they will enjoy it as much as you did.
Of course, that’s not always the case.
What [Bob Boilen] or the [AV Club] or [Aquarium Drunkard] or [Pitchfork] think was the hottest of hot shit may not pique your interest. Then again, you may discover a gem that you missed in their lists. I know I did. In fact, one of the albums that ended up on my list this year is just such a late-arriver. I’m not proud of missing out on it in the first place, but I’m a busy man, I can’t possibly catch everything.
In fact, I try to avoid other lists like the plague as I’m trying to construct my own. I like to think that isolating myself from outside opinions will keep my own choices “pure.” That is, of course, complete bullshit. I read the same publications, media orgs, and blogs throughout the year. I know what their opinions on records and artists are. Plus, I’m bound to stumble across at least a few Top Whatever lists. But, I do try to limit how many I do see. I want these picks to be as much my own as I can manage.
It may just be me, but 2014 has felt like a banner year for music. The complete album continues to make it’s surprising comeback, just a few years after it was declared dead and the digital single was crowned the new king of music. As an increasingly older fella, one who grew up on the ebb and flow of full albums, I love this reniassance for the full album. It’s a joy to see concept albums and albums with themes and over-arching narratives again. I’ve always liked being taken on a journey.
Without any further ado, let’s get to my list. Once again, these are albums that were my favorites from the past year. I’ve long since stopped trying to pretend that I’m presenting you with the “best” albums of the past year, because, like I said earlier, it’s all subjective. Plus, I miss a fair amount of stuff. There are also a few albums (St. Vincent, for one) that I listened to this year that are objectively “better” than some of my choices below. I simply happened to like these albums more.
Here’s the list, in no particular order.
Most every Spoon record since Kill the Moonlight in 2002 has made it onto my year end list. Like clockwork, every two to three years you were going to get a rock solid album. But 2010's Transference sounded a little tired in places, worn out, like they were pressing. And who could really blame Britt Daniel and crew? They had put out four straight killer records and spent nearly a decade atop the indie music scene. That’s going to wear on anyone.
Turns out, four years away made all the difference. You can hear the rejuvenation throughout They Want My Soul. From the summer-friendly “Rainy Taxi” and “Do You,” to referencing the classic “Jonathan Fisk” in the title track “They Want My Soul,” you hear a band enjoying themselves. Maybe it was the time away working on other projects (Divine Fits), or adding new member Alex Fischel (keys, guitar), or working with a new producer on a new label. Whatever the catalyst, the end result was one of my favorite records of 2014.
Black Pistol Fire — Hush or Howl
Sometimes I crave simplicity. It’s what attracted me to the White Stripes and the Black Keys. The primal duo of guitar and drums just gets me. So when I first saw Black Pistol Fire perform a studio session for KEXP, I was all-in.
Drummer Eric Owen wearing running shorts, athletic gloves, a full beard, and nothing else was a surefire indication that, come hell or high water, these guys came to rock. And that’s just what Hush or Howl does.
There’s beauty in simplicity, and riffs like the opener in “Hipster Shakes” (one of the songs of the year, in my humble opinion) or the backbeat that churns through “Dimestore Heartthrob” are indicative of musicians who know who they are and know exactly how to deliver their own kind of beauty.
Hush or Howl may not be the most innovative, experimental record, and Black Pistol Fire is certainly barreling down a well-rutted road. But sometimes it’s not how much new ground you cover as much as how well you churn up that dirt.
Centro-Matic — Take Pride In Your Long Odds
I first heard about Centro-Matic on Twitter. I was scrolling through my feed one day when I came across a tweet from Justin Townes Earle -
“This record is incredible. Do yourself a favor and get it when it comes out. Don’t be a dick.”
So in an effort not to be a dick, I grabbed that record.
I had never heard Centro-Matic before, so I had no earthly idea what to expect. The rusty-nail guitar, haunting organ, and distant wail of the album-opening title track captured my attention. What was this I was listening to? Was it some sort of concept record, a broken-down version of Explosions in the Sky?
Listening to Take Pride in Your Long Odds, it’s hard to believe that I completely missed out on this band for the entirity of their existence. If they had only put out a couple of records over a long period of time, like say, The Wrens or Cotton Mather, I could excuse the oversight. But this is Centro-Matic’s 11th full length.
Dipping into their back catalog, they’re obviously my cup of tea. Yet here we are, they’re calling it quits for good, and I’ve only just fell in love with their music. It’s a fucking shame. But at least I have their back catalog to explore.
If you’re going to pack it in after 17 years and 11 albums, it’s hard to think of a more triumphant way to do it than with a record like this one. Every song weaves a vivid story, shot through with fuzzed-out guitar and whiskey-weary vocals.
It’s been interesting to watch Jack White go from scrappy Detroit rocker to one of the few bona fide “rock gods” of my generation. I mean, aside from Dave Grohl, who else fits that bill?
Lazaretto sounds like an album made by a man who knows exactly what he wants to say and how he wants to say it. Whether seething through “Entitlement” or digging in for some guitar histronics on “High Ball Stepper,” White’s doing what he wants without stopping to worry about the consequences. I mean, the first single is an instrumental. This from a musician who is almost as well known for his signature howl as he is for his guitar sound.
And if there was a better “fuck you, I do what I want” song than “That Bat Black Licorice” released this year, I’ll eat my hat.
Jack White rapping to a hip-hop backbeat seems like it should be surprising at first. But then you remember that this is a man who came to fame wearing candy cane outfits and pretending to be brother-sister with his ex-wife, Meg.
Lazaretto jumps around a lot. From country to prog to blues to hip hop to straight up White Stripes punk. All of it tied together around Jack’s carefully crafted persona. This is the sound of Jack White having a hell of a lot of fun, getting some shit off his chest, and expecting us to like it. I’ll be damned if he didn’t nail it.
Robert Ellis — The Lights from the Chemical Plant
I came to this album late in the year. But I get the feeling it’s going to stay with me for awhile. Great songwriting does that. It worms it’s way into your brain and makes a home.
Ellis evokes some of the best country music storytellers, like John Prine or Willie Nelson, and storytelling songwriters in general. Even going so far as to include his faithful-but-full-of-life cover of Paul Simon’s “Still Crazy After All These Years.”
At a time when a contemporary sounding album can sound out of place, Lights sounds like a Nashville studio album without going over the top into schmaltz, an impressive feat. This isn’t the highly-polished corporate country you hear on the radio, but it isn’t quite outlaw country, either.
The Lights from the Chemical Plant is only Ellis’ second full-length, but it certainly doesn’t sound like it. There isn’t any filler, no throwaway songs. It ebbs and flows and every song, even the standouts like the title track or “Steady as the Rising Sun” sound better in context with the rest of the album. So sit back, crack open a beer, and settle in to Ellis’ consistently entertaining album.
Sharon Van Etten — Are We There
It takes real talent to turn sadness, melancholy, existential pain into triumphant art. Sharon Van Etten is one of those people.
Are We There builds on the sonic palette of 2012's excellent Tramp and at the same time, reconfigures it into an even more intimate sound. Tramp’s producer, Aaron Dessner of The National, left his fingerprints all over that album, and Sharon must’ve taken notes. She self-produced Are We There and a more personal touch is evident from the opener, “Afraid of Nothing.” The instrumentation floats above Van Etten’s husky-yet-delicate voice. Instead of weighing her down, it lifts her up.
Even at her most explicitly vulnerable in “Your Love is Killing Me” — /Break my legs so I won’t walk to you/cut my tongue so I can’t talk to/burn my skin so I can’t feel you/stab my eyes so I can’t see/you like it when I let you walk over me/you tell me that you like it when our minds become diseased —/ there is an underlying sense of being in control. Instead of being consumed, she finds strength, and we benefit, because front to back, Are We There is a fantastic album.
Booker calls his sound “punk blues,” a moniker that immediately draws me in. I love the blues. I love punk. I grew up with Pearl Jam and Nirvana and came of age with The White Stripes and Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, so anyone using “punk” and “blues” to describe their music has me hooked from the get-go.
In Benjamin Booker’s case, it helps to kick off your album with a perfect rave up like “Violent Shiver.” The hits just keep on coming as you get further into his self-titled debut. There’s loss, there’s anger, there’s the sense of detachment of a new generation coming into it’s own. Each song feels like a postcard — earnest and direct with no time for fluff.
This is one of the more promising debuts I can think of in recent years. Booker has made one hell of an introduction. I can’t wait to hear what he has to say next.
Not many of us can say that we’ve ended up just where we imagined we’d be when we were teenagers. Justin Showalter can, even if it’s been a rocky ride to get there. HEAL is a triumphant, celebratory, and at times brutally honest record. Showalter pulls no punches, with lines like — /“I know you cheated on me, but I cheated on myself” —/ a reference to his high school sweetheart cheating on him after they had gotten married.
HEAL is a catharsis. A cleaning out of hangups and regrets and disappointments to make way for remembrance of the good, like making music in a basement, finding beauty in loneliness (Goshen ‘97) — /“Then I found my dad’s old tape machine That’s where the magic began I was lonely, I was having fun / I was lonely, but I was having fun.”/
HEAL feels like a man pouring everything he has into one cup and asking you to not just take a sip, but drink the whole thing.
I first heard Tom Brosseau in 2007. His album, Grand Forks, initially caught my attention because it’s not very often I see things titled after the area where I grew up (The movie Fargo is the only other one I can think of). It wasn’t until I sat down and listened to it that I realized what a brilliant musician and songwriter Brosseau is.
The fact that such a talent was growing up right across the river (he’s almost exactly three years older than I am), coupled with his remembrances of the historic Flood of 97 that permeated that record, made it hit even harder. We saw that devastation with similar eyes. Even the most subtle reference hit like a hammer.
Grass Punks is more playful. From the opening “Cradle Your Device,” it’s clear that Brosseau is reveling in his talents. This culminates in the unabashed “I Love to Play Guitar,” before the heartfelt coda of “We Were Meant to Be Together.”
This is another great album by one of the better songwriters out there today. At times melancholy, at times playful, this record is a joy to listen to from start to finish.
The War on Drugs — Lost in the Dream
This is what nostalgia sounds like, if it were warped and twisted and run through about five different effects pedals and slathered in a shimmery glaze.
I liked The War on Drugs second record, Slave Ambient, but I love Lost in the Dream. The man behind The War on Drugs (War on Druggist?), Adam Granduciel, seems to have found the best parts of the 80s and used them to their fullest. There are also some elements of shoegaze throughout the record and the songwriting is often heartachiningly beautiful.
I really don’t know what to say about Lost in the Dream. It’s just an album that you have to sit down and live with for a bit. Like so many of my favorite albums from this year, it’s one that needs to be listened to as just that, an album. Individually, the songs are fantastic, especially the wide-open “Under the Pressure” and the driving “An Ocean Between the Waves.” But taken altogether, it’s a pretty great high.
!!!Last-minute Addition!!!
Vikesh Kapoor — The Ballad of Willy Robbins
I didn’t hear this album until midway through 2014, and on the Bandcamp page, it says “released 15 October 2013.” But I’ve now seen it pop up on [Rough Trade’s Top 100 of 2014 at #70](http://www.brooklynvegan.com/archives/2014/11/rough_trades_fa.html). I’m taking that as license to tack /The Ballad of Willy Robbins/ onto my list, as well.
I’ve had the amazing opportunity to work on a concert series this year as a videographer and editor. The series is called Stagepass and we’ve been featuring local and regional bands from Portland and the surrounding area.
Basically, I’ve been getting paid to do what is a dream job for an a/v nerd who loves live music. Crazy.
We’ve had so many fantastic musicians be a part of this series, but so far one of my favorites has been Vikesh Kapoor.
Ever since I heard songs like “This Land is Your Land” and “Big Rock Candy Mountain” as a kid, I’ve been partial to folk music. It wasn’t necessarily something I sought out, but when I did stumble across it, like with Wilco and Billy Bragg’s Mermaid Avenue albums, I was always enjoyed it. Those kinds of artists are, unfortunately, few and far between these days.
So when I picked up The Ballad of Willy Robbins to familiarize myself with Vikesh’s music before the show, I was blown away.
I believe that we need protest songs and story songs that illustrate the lives of everyday struggles of everyday people. It may not be the most commercial path for an artist to take, but listening to Vikesh tell how his music moved people makes me think that it can still be a very worthwhile path in this day and age.
The Ballad of Willy Robbins is a damn fine record. that would have been a hit 40, 50, 60 years ago, and is rightfully garnering plenty of praise today. Vikesh’s strong, clear voice and excellent songwriting paint such vivid, world-weary stories that it’s hard to believe he’s still in his 20s.
Just Missed the Cut:
Angel Olsen — Burn Your Fire for No Witness