The Top 20 Albums of 2015

Hello friends.

Sad times for music.  Luminaries die every year, but the recent passing of Lemmy, Scott Weiland, and, heart-crushingly, David Bowie, is a little tough to process. 

But music is forever, and so we go.

I felt like I got behind this year, rushing to listen to a number of anticipated albums in the final days of 2015.  This led to several reviews being considered on the Spotify platform.  This horrifies me.  Spotify is a listening modality of convenience that I quite appreciate, but it is also a soulless monster that separates me from properly communing with artist/album/song.  As a dedicated collector I somehow feel I have zero rights to put an album in my Top 20 that is not physically represented in my audio room. 

Because of my tardy 2015 listening, I have less confidence in my list and my ordering.  What I do have confidence in is yet another solid pile of records that knocked my socks off – straight up indie and punk, bizarro and electro folk, poptastic rave ups, psychedelicisms, and some solid soulful rock.  And other stuff. It was really challenging to find that dividing line of “in versus out”.  What I did notice was a number of artists/bands upping their game, giving me the sort of albums I had hoped they would produce after several recent offerings fell short of greatness. 

Some Great Records Falling Outside the List

First, as always, here is a quick list of GREAT records (at least 8/10 by my reckoning) that fell short of Top 20 status:

Alex G – Beach Music:  Bandcamp darling Alexander Giannascoli keeps issuing (and reissuing) tremendously catchy and skewed bedroom folk pop. 2015’s Beach Music is perhaps the best of bunch.  Recommended if you like Mac DeMarco, Kurt Vile, and the early days of Yo La Tengo and Sebadoh. 

And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead – IX:  Another propulsive grenade of anthemic rock.  Some critics tire of what they perceive as bombast, but I feel that they just keep bringing it. 

Beach Slang – The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us:  Awesome garage punk, and heavy on the reverb, reminding of Pains of Being Pure At Heart, Ringo Deathstarr, The Men, and Eagulls – but also Broken Social Scene in that sorta wall of sound rock jamboree sort of way.  

Breakfast in Fur – Flyaway Garden:  Can’t put my finger on this one.  It’s 80’s new wave, gothy at times, but also basic indie rock.  A good pile of songs that grab me by the collar but don’t quite shake me.

Helen – Original Faces:  Admittedly an acquired taste as this is, production wise, a lo-fi fuzz-fest that sounds like it was recorded in a gymnasium.  But I adore it!  Reminds of Flying Saucer Attack, Galaxie 500, Frankie Rose and other lo-fi lovelies.  This is, by the way, a more upbeat and less spare outlet of Liz Harris of Grouper fame.

Joanna Gruesome – Peanut Butter:  Tight and gnarly punk-pop and a fabulous sophomore outing.  Like Action Pact playing red rover with Juliana Hatfield.  Rrriotus!

No Joy – No More Faithful:  Gauzy, swirling guitar pyrotechnics and gossamer voicings.  Big fan, accomplished album, but not enough overt hooks to go with the shoegaze on this one for me. 

Novella – Land:  Churning, garage psych strongly influenced by Lush, Black Angels, and Slowdive. 

Open Fields – Land:  This under the radar cassette is a continuation of the lightly psychedelic and pastoral indie-folk of The Kingsbury Manx (with KM member Ken Stephenson among other North Carolinan indie rocksters)

 

San Fermin – Jackrabbit: For some reason this album got panned in a lot of places for trying to do too much.  I disagree.  I think this is a triumphant melange of soulful and jazzy art-pop.

Twerps – Range Anxiety:  Special little aussie friends of Yo La Tengo and particularly keen students of the Velvet Underground and the Flying Nun Records sound, obviously evoking The Clean, The Bats, and The Feelies.

Viet Cong – Viet Cong:  Had high hopes after a tremendous debut last year (out of the ashes of Calgarian noise band Women).  They almost met my post-punk expectations.  Gnashing, crunchy no-wave noise. 

The Weather Station – Loyalty:  Divinely fingerpicked folk gems from Tamara Lindeman.  Intricate and beautiful.  Nick Drake would dig it.  He’d just listen and stare and his eyes would water. 

And additonal kudos to the 2015 editions of Cheatahs, Mountain Goats, Westkust, The Mantles, Wire, Yo La Tengo, The Lilac Time, Summer Fiction, Dick Diver Slow Down Molasses, Sonny and the Sunsets, and Car Seat Headrest.

Disappointments in 2015

And its time for my yearly disparagements.  My disappointments.  People that hurt me.  Again, this is not about bands I generally dislike, but those I typically like quite a bit and who deflated me with (relatively) subpar releases. 

Young Galaxy seemed to trending inexorably toward electro-centric dance music the last little while.  Falsework completes the transformation and it’s ugly.  It’s repetitive, superficial pap.  The only reason I don’t kick in my stereo is the warm and familiar voice of Catherine McCandless.  Come back YG, come back to the Invisible Republic! 

Trevor Powers of Youth Lagoon inspired with his first two strange and wonderful avant-pop records but this year’s Savage Hill Ballroom is just drab and often annoying.  Tame Impala is getting album of the year kudos from all over the place, with their reconstitution as an airy electronic outfit.  Which would be fine if there was any sort of catchiness to it.  It’s reaaaally boring to my ears.  Please bring back the firey guitars, mates!  Silversun Pickups sound like they have sold their guitars and souls to modern alternative radio and sound more like Depeche Mode, Mew, and Muse – but without any redeeming character.  I am suspicious that they were tightly directed and produced right into that blasé top 40 pop format.  NOW who’s going to replace the hole left by the death of 90s era Smashing Pumpkins?

How long have The Waterboys been back together?  Did they ever split?  Yes, I know I can google this, but I don’t feel like it.  Anyway, This Is The Sea and Fisherman’s Blues are such canonical recordings that their new record required a look-see (and I had heard good things).  What a godawful mess!  Really bad bar blues rock, with maybe one exception.  This is not my Waterboys.  Old England is dying indeed.

Alabama Shakes.  Sigh.  I still salute and support you mofos, but Sound and Color’s rough hewn RnB just ain’t my thing.  I think their first single “Hold On” set the bar so high that they can’t possibly reach it again, at least for me.  Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper is a let-down. His experimental electro-romps just don’t have the melodic brilliance displayed on 2007’s Person Pitch, an all-time fave of mine.

And the delicate topic of Sufjan Stevens.  I adore this man's music (well, most of it) and I was excited to hear he was returning with a softer, sparer album more akin to Michigan and Seven Swans.  And that's pretty bang on for 2015's Carrie and Lowell.  Yet...I can't put my finger on it, but there is a sameness throughout the record, rhythmically and melodically, that has left me...unaffected.  Which is the opposite reaction from those of critics and people I know who find it breathtaking and heart-breaking.  I'm aggravated with myself.  I'm not saying it's not a good record - it is.  But I'm used to "absolutely stellar".  This is a 8.5/10 if you are listening to it while staring through the condensation on a window on a grey fall day.  The lyrical narrative of birth/life/death and family needs attention. But if you are playing it while doing other things, it dissolves in the background.  I'm really sorry about all this.

Finally, Father John Misty is getting much love in the music criticism world, but the reviews of I Love You Honeybear confound me.  Adjectives like “bizarre”, “messy”, “unconventional”, and “warped” are being thrown around like candy mints and it’s NONE of these things, except perhaps lyrically.  Sure, he’s clever and witty, and it’s a well put together production, but the songs are quite mundane to me.  The orchestral folk angle is repetitive and tedious. This is not any sort of trailblazing in my mind, and certainly not a list-topper.  Sheesh. What’s going on?  I feel like I am missing something. 

Songs of the Year

 These are my most favorite songs of the year, consistently returning to my headphones at every opportunity (titles are linked to various streaming options).  

1.  English Subtitles – Swervedriver
2. I Wonder? –Swervedriver
3. The Scene Between – The Go! Team
4. Blue Skies– Kathryn Calder
5. Pedestrian At Best - Courtney Barnett
6. Feel You –Julia Holter
7. Felt This Way – Helen
8. Sun’s Coming Down – Ought
9. 3 Years Older – Steven Wilson
10. Bros –Wolf Alice

 Okay!  Let’s get to the list proper.  Presenting... 

The Top 20 Albums of 2015!

 

20.  Steven Wilson – Hand. Cannot. Erase. (8.3/10)

Progressive Rock is a genre that appears to be an oxymoron  – what was new and progressive in the 1970s has become antiquated and derisively associated with the bloated and self-indulgent concept records of that period.  And I kind of miss the genre.  I remain a big fan of Yes and early Genesis, and of course Pink Floyd and Rush, and I generally like records by other luminaries of the prog period, like King Crimson, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, and The Moody Blues.   I often wonder if this musical type – that marriage of rock tropes with classical arrangements, overly long song “suites”, and fantastical narratives – continues today in a way that mirrors its early form.  Did it die?  Or did it mutate over time though the continual experimentation and innovation that gave us Talk Talk, Radiohead, Sigur Ros, Dirty Projectors, Soft Bulletin-era Flaming Lips and so on?  While there are still “best of” lists of new prog albums to this day, the fan base seems relatively small and tucked away; and/or “prog rock” has become interchangeable with “prog metal”, referencing outfits like Mastodon and The Mars Volta.  Sadly, I just don’t hear anything that sounds like the old days.  That is, until Steven Wilson arrived in my headphones, courtesy of an extremely high metacritic score of 89% (this is a very high for a critical average).  Hand is quintessential progressive rock.  It sounds like a lost Yes album or what could have come between Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway  and Trick of the Tail.  It has a glorious crystalline production, richly layered songs with long instrumental forays and codas, and repeated lines and phrases that tie the album together into that concept album experience.  The Yes/Genesis/Floyd touchstones are apparent throughout but I also hear elements of Trail of Dead (oddly), CSNY, and Windham Hill new age acts.  And at times, Wilson falls into that sort of bloated and clichéd prog rock guitar solo that hamstrings half of Yes’ catalog.  He loses marks for this type of wankery, but overall, this is an amazing and immersive tour-de-force album.  Choice track:  “3 Years Older”. 

19. Ought – Sun Coming Down.  (8.3/10)

Wow.  Ought’s sophomore effort is a complex lightning bolt of a record, and is fun and challenging in all sorts of post-rocking ways.  So innovative and artful and risky, but never self-indulgent – there is always some barb or hook that sinks in and drags you along.  Listening to Ought is what I imagine it was like when people first heard Talking Heads or Joy Division.  Ought probably doesn’t exist without David Byrne or Ian Curtis.  The smarmy art-house affectations of lead singer, Tim Darcy, is part of the package, but the shtick tends to wear on me a bit.  Otherwise this would be among the Top 3, probably.  Some straight up singing would indeed put Ought into “favorite new band” territory.  Amphetamine dance-psychosis with a lizard in your pants.  Choice track: “Sun’s Coming Down”.

18.  Heartless Bastards – Restless Ones (8.3/10)

The history of popular music is also a sad and frustrating history of genres being bludgeoned into mediocrity by the music industry.  Funk begat forumlaic disco, country begat new country rock, blues became white-boy bar blues, grunge became “alternative rock”, brit-pop barfed up Coldplay, and so on.  Accordingly, nothing will turn me off quicker than the category of “modern country blues rock”, which is as accurate a signifier as any for Heartless Bastards.  But one forgets that foundational genres, before corporate mold creeped in, were pure and true and awesome and that many contemporary artists continue to do them honor and justice.  In recent years, the classic rock sound, for example, has been emulated brilliantly by The Sheepdogs, Alabama Shakes, Black Keys, and Black Mountain, reminding me that what I love has not died.  Enter Restless Ones, which takes up the mantle of countrified and electrified blues rock.  Erika Wennerstrom, who you may initially mistake for a male glam-rock singer, belts out a tremendous set of rocking tunes backed by massive 70’s garage hooks.  An old formula renewed and reenergized.  Choice track:  “Black Cloud”.

17.  Dan Deacon – Gliss Riffer (8.3/10)

Dan Deacon, that loveable 8-bit sound-nerd, returns with another set of dance tunes for the weirdo wallflowers.  What may be new this time around is a little bit more space and little bit less freneticism.  This is a good thing.  While Deacon usually tends toward the manic side of his electronic mash-ups, these songs are clearer and somehow more engaging.  I certainly wouldn’t call this a sedate record – it still gets the blood-pumping – but it projects a maturity and a degree of restraint that I had not heard in his past adventures.  And he’s largely gotten rid of the chipmunk voicings that were sometimes irritating.  He still sticks to his operational plan – successive layers of tribal rhythms and mantras that crescendo into blazing technicolor freak outs.  Choice track: “When I Was Done Saying”

16.  Wilco – Star Wars (8.3/10)

I’ve been a more than casual fan of the band since it’s humble alt-country beginnnings.  I realized that Wilco was unusual and special with the releases of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born.  These were lush, experimental, and gorgeous records, always with one toe dipped in their folk-country roots.  But I sort of lost track of them for a few years afterward.  Fast-forward to the Toronto Urban Roots Festival in the summer of 2015.  Wilco headlined one of the best shows I’ve ever seen, to my serious surprise.  Oh, Nels Cline, I had no idea!  I saw Wilco’s resident guitarist earlier at the Hillside festival, and it was an experimental, plodding set that irritated, but also made me wonder how these sonic meanderings could be reeled into the more structured songs of his parent band.  The TURF set was remarkable and mind-blowing, a wall of sound wonderfully integrated with Jeff Tweedy’s brilliant songwriting.  Needless to say, I jumped all over Star Wars, a surprise full-length dropped for free to fans online, followed by a physical release.  A mix of Lou Reed cool and the accessible facets of Mercury Rev.  Choice track:  “You Satellite”. 

15.  Great Lake Swimmers – A Forest Of Arms (8.3/10)

Occasionally I get caught in cycle of record buying based on the (usually enormous) strength of a single song.  Great Lake Swimmers’ second album, Bodies and Minds, was released a decade ago and included the compelling and beautiful track “Various Stages”.  This is an all-time favorite, landing at #122 on the Top 500.  Because of “Various Stages”, I dutifully picked up all of four of their subsequent albums, with A Forest of Arms being their most recent.  The last three (Ongiara, Lost Channels, and New Wild Everywhere) have been….good.  Good!  Pleasant!  I enjoyed them well enough.  But the Swimmers have always been a little predictable in their airy approach to melancholic folk.  I’ve been getting a little bored.  But this 2015 release is tremendous!  The songs are richer and lusher, the tempos have ticked up, and the vocal melodies are gorgeous.  Singer Tony Dekker really needs to be considered among the top vocal talents among contemporary Canadiana.  There is a wide-open, sun-kissed, Laurel Canyon sound now, pulling the Swimmers alongside Beachwood Sparks, Ladybug Transistor, Radar Brothers, and Fleet Foxes.  It’s like a brand new band has emerged.  Choice track:  “Shaking All Over” (this is a live version).

14.  Beach House – Depression Cherry / Thank Your Lucky Stars (8.4/10)

 Beach House oddly decided to release two albums less than two months apart in the latter half of 2015.  They are both stupendous, but I simply cannot allow two slots of my list to be taken up by one band.  At 9 tracks each, why not one album of the best 14 or so?  Why not a double album?  Whatever, they get reviewed together.  Are they different and unique and self-contained?  Maybe a little.  Depression Cherry is classic Beach House – lush, beautiful, soporific meditations that put the listener into a calm other-worldly place.  I love their dynamic.  Their songs, at a basic structural level, could easily be slow dance numbers from some 1950’s sock hop.  The production creates a welcome mutation, however, as notes, chords, and midi arpeggios are conveyed through warm, tremolo synth patches.  And of course, Victoria Legrand’s vocals are hypnotic and angelic.  Thank Your Lucky Stars, in contrast, is little rawer, but only a little.  What is striking and a lovely change of pace is the presence of some fuzzy electric guitar and, at times, a real drum kit (I think).  But honestly, if you mixed and matched these albums together, it would still be all Beach House, and all great.  Choice tracks:  “Levitation”, “Marjorette”.

13. Beirut – No No No (8.4/10)

Zach Condon retains some of the Balkan reggae world music feel on his latest outing, but has elected to do away with the mournful brass menagerie in favor of electric piano, synths, and strings. It is a nice change up.  The songs have a greater economy and clarity to them and I find myself even more attracted to the melodies.  His voice, unique as always and still way beyond his years, shines through like he’s an old seasoned veteran.  And can I say welcome back!  Beirut had not released an album in 4 years, a period which Condon appears to have suffered some serious life difficulties.  Returning with a simple but compelling gem like this one is heartening.  Choice track: “No No No”

12. Waxahatchee – Ivy Tripp (8.4/10)

Opening with what sounds like a drawbar organ run through a fuzz pedal, Katie Crutchfield steps to the mic and delivers the sort of open-wound manifesto that makes Erika M. Anderson (aka EMA) so darkly powerful.  But then the musical gears are neatly switched to a couple of tunes that could be lead singles on Liz Phair’s early records.  It’s a glorious mixed bag of pop candy experiments after that, sourcing Yo La Tengo, Múm, The Primitives, Belly, and Pavement.  And it exactly the sort of thing you would expect to follow her last album, Cerulean Salt, which was simpler but bursting with potential.  This one’s a treasure, top to bottom.  Choice track:  “Breathless”.    

11. Wolf Alice – My Love Is Cool (8.5/10)

Wow, where did this come from!   The casual or inattentive listener of My Love Is Cool may judge this album to be in the general category of indie-rock (whatever that might mean), but to me the tracks navigate an amazingly nuanced set of influences.  And it so happens those influences are near and dear to my musical heart.  The opening track sounds like the dream pop of Cocteau Twins or Julia Holter, followed by an upbeat shift to the indie bounce of Pains of Being Pure At Heart.  A chunk of songs harken back to Garbage, The Cranberries and some straight up 90s grunge and rrriot girl – like Hole, Elastica, Smashing Pumpkins, and Sleater Kinney.  And I hear Yeah Yeah Yeahs and PJ Harvey to boot.  Something for everyone here and track for track Wolf Alice maintains the quality.  Great stuff.  Choice track: “Bros”.

10.  Metz – II (8.5/10)

Metz has returned and it is a glorious monstrosity of guitar distortion and shredded vocal chords!  It’s like rolling in the glass after putting a chainsaw through a plate glass window. But, hmm, that sounds painful.  Metz is not painful to my ears, just exhilarating.  It’s relentless, uncompromising post-punk.  It’s completely subversive to the mainstream of…well…any genre really, following the M.O.’s of Public Image Limited, Fugazi, and the early nihilist blasts of Nirvana.  If you like the bleak, the pavement-hard, and the harrowing, look no further.  And hide the children.  Wait, no, put the children front and centre.  My one year-old totally dug the record.   Choice track:  “Spit You Out”. 

9.  Kathryn Calder – Kathryn Calder (8.5/10)

In addition to becoming a full-time member of the New Pornographers, Kathryn Calder has four albums under her belt in the dynamic Immaculate Machine and two solo records of her own.  And its all great, great stuff.  But it was nonetheless a bit of a surprise when I laid my ears on her 2015 self-titled album.  This is, top to bottom, a fantastic record.  It’s like she has taken all her various strengths and high points from her body of work and made them shine at every moment, and whole has become far more than these sums.  “Blue Skies” for example is the sort of sparkly, effervescent folk that immediately puts me into a nostalgic reverie – and I haven’t even sorted out what it’s about yet.  That melody and voice!  The gossamer blanket that wraps them!  That perfect chorus! Like listening to diamonds shine, and this is merely one gem of many.  There is a great eclecticism here.  “Take A Little Time”  is an electo-dance engine that marries the Pornographers’ sound (especially the bridge, where the NP influence is wonderfully obvious) with The Mounties or the Russian Futurists.  “When You See My Blood” is moody and expansive, sounding a bit like Little Scream or St. Vincent.  So let’s be clear here – this is not a singer-songwriter album, a reference point that seems overly, and unfairly, applied to Calder.  This is not another Sarah Harmer album (or MacLachlan or Slean, for that matter).  It’s significantly more – take a deep dive.  Choice track: “Blue Skies”.

8. The Go! Team – The Scene Between (8.5/10)

Does every written review of this album start with the (hardly astute) observation that the sound of a can of pop being opened and poured is a perfect, bubbly metaphor to open the sweet sounds of the latest Go! Team album?  See, I did it too, in a backhanded sort of way.  What other found sounds could open this record?  If only sunshine, grins, and barefoot dancing in the grass produced any discernible audio.  Man, I’ve missed the Team!  The previous LPs Proof of Youth (2007) and Rolling Blackouts (2011) tried to recapture the brilliantly sampled dance mayhem of their debut, Thunder, Lightning, Strike (2004), but fell short in my estimation.  The Scene Between is far less driven by the sampling magic of its predecessors and their ol’ school hip hop vocalist, Ninja, is absent.  In her place are a collection of guest vocalists who share in common a level of obscurity.  The new recipe works wonderfully.  Every song is a catchy toe-tapping pop anthem that is impossibly happy-hearted.  Think Belle and Sebastian’s most upbeat tunes, Japanese indie-pop, and C86 jangle pop.  Choice track: “The Scene Between”.

7.  Jim O’Rourke – Simple Songs (8.5/10)

The enigmatic Jim O’Rourke returns with a comparatively straight-up record that aligns with the more accessible areas of his catalog, recalling Insignificance, Halfway To A Threeway, and Eureka.  This is cause for celebration, as these are not only my favorite O’Rourke records, but also represent a rather small proportion of his otherwise experimental and often opaque output.  Always prolific, the man clearly does as he pleases, careening into weird jazz, field recordings, and noisy WTF collages.  Not here!  With super sheen, wide-angle production, Simple Songs sounds initially like its namesake, but what you really have are some wonderfully complex and thoughtful A.M. radio rock arrangements.  I am most strongly reminded of Electric Light Orchestra, Paul McCartney and Wings, Supertramp, and The Moody Blues.  But Simple Songs is in no way a tired recycling of those old sounds.  Those bands are touchstones, for sure, but he makes it all his own, with his own brand of repeating (rather than repetitive) earworm choruses that are slick and impossibly catchy.  Throughout, this listener is absorbed by unexpected time signatures, swelling strings, bright piano, pedal steel, complex guitar techniques, and an understated but confident voice.  Add his subtle pop-jazz acuity and you have a modern masterpiece.  Choice track: “Last Year”.

6.  Julia Holter – Have You In My Wilderness (8.5/10)

I’ve enjoyed Holter in the past (specifically Ekstasis and Loud City Song), but her songs have been far more sparse in their arrangements, darker, and generally more difficult in rhythm and sound.  I don’t quite know what you would call it – ethereal avant-jazz informed by Enya and Kate Bush?   Which is laudable and totally cool.  But this time, Julia Holter has edged her needle a tiny but significant way toward more conventional song structure and melody, and the results are glorious.  “Everytime Boots”, for example, begins as an upbeat and clever piano shuffle but then transmutes into an airy chorus invoking Kate Bush and Brian Eno.  “Feels You” sounds like she’s been listening to Grimes and Milla’s The Divine Comedy.  It is amazing what a substrate of major keys and versus/chorus/verse can yield.   This is not suggest that Have You In My Wilderness is a straight up pop record.  Her experimental roots run deep with arrangements including bubbling electronics, harpsichord, shimmering classical strings, and an ever present stand-up bass providing a dignified backbone.  Her voice is effortlessly powerful, a presence that completes these heady concoctions.  Choice track: “Feel You”.

5.  Jib Kidder – Teaspoon To The Ocean (8.6/10)

I have large soft spot for DIY bedroom recording troubadours who put out clever and often twisted versions of contemporary rock/pop/folk.  I love the idea of isolated and insular music geeks twiddling away in their cramped home studios obsessively creating and innovating on their PCs and Macs, often not knowing (or even caring) if this music will ever get heard.  Online distribution among like-minded fans often gets picked up by some interested corner of the mainstream (or at least the indie media cognoscenti), as we have seen with Dan Deacon, Youth Lagoon, Mac DeMarco, and Alex G.  Lower profile records by Pete Samples, Daniel Land, and Chester Endersby Gwazda also fit this bill and have come into my yearly Top lists.  And there are countless others floating in the netherweb, populating Bandcamp and Sound Cloud with lo-fi delights. 

          This year the nomination goes to Jib Kidder’s wonderful and whacky Teaspoon To The Ocean, and it is one of the best of the bunch.  It is infernally hard to categorize.  The opening track, “Remove A Tooth”, is a strange retro-futurist East Indian raga.  Super trippy.  Kidder uses some vocoder/auto-tune technology on his voice, and although it is likely the result of some Pro-Tools effects patch, it sounds like early experimentation from the 70s that could have come from Bruce Haack, The Silver Apples, or Mike Oldfield.  “Appetites” is a circuitous and woozy pop tune that finishes with one of the oddest guitar solos I’ve ever heard.  One wonders how intentional and planful it was.  Could Kidder reproduce it over and over again if asked?  If so, he’s a weird genius who must hear music in a completely unique way.  “World of Machines” is perhaps what you would hear inside the head of someone who has happily descended into madness – a weird, giddy set of vocal loops, vinyl crackles, twinkles, and stuttering time changes.  Over top is Jib croaking some obscure lament.  That description makes the song sound awful but it is ridiculously alluring, like watching a ferris wheel collapsing in slow motion.  The whole album is has an inimitable quality to it and I can hardly imagine how a musician/producer arrives at this document.  Kidder gives us some clues, however, posting a song mix dubbed “Woke Up Laughing” (a Robert Palmer title that appears on the mix) that represents his primary influences and muses in creating Teaspoon.  With some exceptions (Palmer, Penguin Café Orchestra, Roy Orbison, Barry White, and I guess Mike Oldfield), this is some obscure and weirdo shit.  I loved most of it.   But I was also struck by the realization that other people, like Kidder, appear to live in enormously different musical universes than I do, in this case communing with outsider synthetic art-pop that spans several decades.  And here I thought I was pretty eclectic.  Choice track: “Appetites”.

4.  Joanna Newsom – Divers (8.6/10)

Newsom stormed the indie music scene with her quirky and nerdy fairy tales and, to many ears, a horrendously whiny/weirdo vocal style.  I was immediately taken by her, as were so many others, because her vocal delivery lacked any sort of self-consciousness and, when you gave yourself a chance to dive deeper, there came the spellbinding realization that she was a literary savant/musical prodigy.  I cannot think of any other instances where a diminutive elf-women brings the coffee house down armed with thick narrative metaphors and a classical harp.  I will always accept that the Milked-Eyed Mender (her debut) will grate many listeners but I believe there should otherwise be universal acceptance that a song like “Bridges and Balloons” is an artistic folk masterpiece.  As Newsom’s acclaim grew, so did her sound and production – more instruments were added and her primary tool became the piano.  I enjoyed subsequent records (as did the critics, almost universally) but Divers provides, to my ears, the most fully realized JN record.  I’m not sure I can pinpoint the move from great to excellent  – it may be a simple set of reasons, such as a more conventional singing style, catchier melodies, and greater economy in her songs (on her acclaimed triple LP, Have One on Me, 14 of 18 songs are over 5:00 and most are over 6:00. It becomes ponderous at times).  Divers is brilliant and represents the second coming of Kate Bush (that first matriarch of unicorn-riding pixie queens).  One could argue that Newsom is already more accomplished lyrically; she at times seems closer to Shakespeare than Bush.  She can be quickly excused for a degree of academic obscurity, because interlaced in her erudite narratives are lines that, whatever their potentially haughty context, just kill me.  During “Waltz of the 101^st Lightborne” she emotes, within a perfectly affecting Gaelic-type melody:  It was there that I called to my true love / Who was pale as millennial moons / Honey, where did you come by that wound? That lyric hit me and I had to go back and find out more.  The rest is mostly confusing but always compelling – obsessively so – one can find her lyrics on genius.com with annotated explanations/suppositions made by smarty-pants fans.  Turns out this song (one among eleven beautifully crafted tracks) is about a sci-fi astro war doubling as a metaphysical treatise on space and time.  I understand about 15% of it.  But rather than feeling baffled and marginalized, I want to understand all of it.  It’s probably important.  Choice track: “Waltz of the 101st Lightborn”.

3.  Here We Go Magic – Be Small (8.7/10)

Here We Go Magic’s self-titled album from 2009 is excellent in general, but is revered for the inclusion of the sublime “Tunnelvision”, #39 in the Top 500.   The subtle, barely changing acoustic chords pass through a circular, minimalist cycle while Luke Temple croons simple plaintive statements over top.  The build throughout the song proceeds in micro increments and is so carefully crafted that you hardly perceive it happening.  Yet by the end you are in a swirling cacophony of distant chanting voices, bells and chimes, and reverberating drones.  It is truly hypnotic.  I had hoped that Tunnelvision would portend more of the same from the band, but I have a been a little let down in subsequent years – until 2015, with the advent of Be Small.  Here We Go Magic knocks it out of the park here, with a collection of groovy, bubbly electronic tunes, sometimes dancey, sometimes folky.  Every song is complex joy of intertwining analog keyboards, looping arpeggios, insistent drum grooves, and Temples mellifluous falsetto vocals.  I get the strange sense that this album could not have happened in any previous decade – it is fully modern in its sound and scope.  Choice track: “Falling” (my fave track is actually "Stella", but can't find a link).

2.  Courtney Barnett – Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit (8.9/10)

Young Aussie, Courtney Barnett, is indie rock’s newest most celebrated darling.  Her rise to stardom has been rapid, with the release of her amazing EP compilation (A Sea of Split Peas) and this, her 2015 debut LP.  I was immediately smitten by Barnett’s back to basics indie rock set up – a ubiquitous genre that is easy to learn, but hard to master – and she is masterful.  A familiar formula is at play here – compressed, overdriven guitars, mid-tempo rock drums, and that sort of literate humble/slacker attitude.  She’s adorable, tough, and authentic.  She seems really nice but simultaneously unsatisfied.  She might in fact be exactly how Alanis Morissette describes herself, but probably isn’t, in “Hand in My Pocket”.  She is musical love child of Liz Phair and Kurt Cobain.  Lyrically, she is a wonder, like a young female John Darnielle (of Mountain Goats).  Her first person narratives are incisive and super-witty and her vocal delivery is effortless, powerful, and cute.  The album feels like it could have been a flagship release of Matador, Merge, or Sub Pop records in 1995 – pure indie rock, when indie rock seemed to have some clearer boundaries.  I will be watching her career closely – probably obsessively.  I already have two autographed singles, making me a self-satisfied yet embarrassed 46 year-old.  Choice track: “Pedestrian At Best”.

1.  Swervedriver – I Wasn’t Born To Lose You (9.7/10)

Okay, um…this may take awhile.  To the point, this is not only my favorite record of 2015, but is probably my favorite record of the last 20 years.  I don’t know, I’d have to sort out if that’s true or not.  I have a lot say.  This feels like it will be more like an article on Swervedriver, in addition to a review of the new record. Read on, or not, but just know that I can’t recommend this album enough to anyone remotely interested modern rock music.

          I’ve always testified that The Beatles were the greatest band of all time; and that The Clash were the most important band of all time.  But Swervedriver are my most favorite band of all time.  It was a slow burn love that started with Raise, their 1991 debut that I liked a fair bit until something clicked one day, like a beneficial aneurysm, hooking me for life.  Three brilliant albums followed (Mezcal Head, Ejector Seat Reservation, and 99^th Dream) each housing some of my most favorite songs of all time (Swervedriver appears 9 times in the Top 500, more than any other band).  Horribly and painfully, they called it quits in 1998 after chronic label problems and the scourge of modern alternative radio shut the door on a band that failed to produce the required hits.  They had a brief time in the sun with Mezcal Head’s “Duel”, which got some airplay and accolades as NME’s best new music.  But like their UK peers of that era, they disappeared with the quick evaporation of the “shoegaze” movement.

          “Shoegaze”.  A horrible inapt term that says nothing of the music itself, but instead derides the sombre-looking blokes who stare at their effects pedals and can be barely heard over the din of their distorted guitars.  Times have changed, and the term now has some historical grounding and dignity.  Many contemporary bands now revere the godfathers of the genre – those being My Bloody Valentine, Ride, Slowdive, Swervedriver, Lush, Catherine Wheel, and a few others – revitalizing the woozy collective sound of fuzz, flange, delay, and phase.  Simultaneously, reunion tours and comeback albums have been commonplace the past few years, with all of the aforementioned bands strapping on their Jags and Jazzmasters and repopulating their pedal boards.  New music by Ringo Deathstarr, Yuck, Asobi Seksu, Fleeting Joys, No Joy, Pains of Being Pure of Heart, School of Seven Bells, Alcest, and Cheatahs all have shoegaze/dreampop pedigrees and have been great favorites of mine in the past 5 years or so.

          Swervedriver’s association with the shoegaze movement appears to be quite beneficial to them in recent years, as old and new fans re(convene) around their music.  But shoegaze was an unfortunate label in those early years, because they got unfairly stereotyped in a movement that died out before its time – and Swervedriver never quite fit to begin with.  They could do dreamy and ethereal with the best of them, but they also had a far more powerful and varied delivery than their counterparts.  I can’t claim to know what all their mates were listening to at the time, but lead vocalist/guitarist Adam Franklin’s tastes are as eclectic as they come.  In their time, Swervedriver covered The Velvet Underground, The Who and T. Rex, and post-breakup, Franklin’s solo work has included interpretations of Wire, Nick Drake, Elliot Smith, Gregory Isaacs, The Stranglers, ABBA, The Clientele, Jimi Hendrix, Syd Barrett, Wolf Parade, The Beach Boys, and Sonic Youth.   Add to this wonderfully rounded set of influences is the unmatched dual guitar sound of Franklin and childhood mate, Jimmy Hartridge, the band’s second lead.  Their technical chops are astounding.  They use numerous tunings I can’t begin to understand.  In a live setting, the two guitars sound like some unbridled army of rock.  And, finally, they are both visionary wizards with the use of their effects pedals – ominously long and complicated chains of beautiful little boxes that sculpt audio signals into otherworldly soundscapes. 

          As you can probably guess, when they split 17 years ago, I was pretty gutted.  Four albums and numerous b-sides (almost always as good as the album tracks) kept me going for a long while.  (I admit that Arcade Fire threatened to overtake Swervedriver as my favorite band.  But then of course they released Reflektor, that boring mess of an album, and I lost the faith).  Furthermore, Adam Franklin kept up the good musical fight.  While Hartridge, bassist Steve George, and drummer Jez Hindmarsh moved on with their non-musical lives, Franklin kept releasing excellent stuff as Toshack Highway, Magnetic Morning (with Sam Fogarino of Interpol) and Adam Franklin and Bolts of Melody).  His habit of reworking past Swervedriver songs, sometimes into acoustic singer-songwriter formats, helped keep my Swervie love alive.

          A 2008 reunion tour took me by surprise; as did subsequent tours in 2010 and 2012.  And then sometime in 2013 Franklin let it drop that there were plans to work on new material.  I had been wringing my hands in anticipation since.  It seemed unreal, but suddenly the band appeared live on Jimmy Fallon with a new song, “Deep Wound” and it seemed a new record was going to happen.  The song was released as a single in 2014 and it was, well, it was just fucking great.   It was, happily, pure Swervedriver – a pounding, crunchy rocker with a supremely catchy riff and melody.  I did, however, have some minor reservations.  Where would this track stand in any of their first four albums?  I confessed to myself that it would be middling at best (which is still “great”, but just not exceptional).  When the album release date was established they released a second single, “Setting Sun”.  Setting Sun is not a great track.  It has meandering circular chord progression that never resolves and the melody is drab.  I was suddenly worried. 

          Reunion albums are dangerous and are immediately exposed to a critical minefield.  At the top of this post I mentioned the disaster that is the new Waterboys album. When The Verve put out Forth I almost flushed it down the toilet.  Liz Phair’s attempt at pop reinvention was a crime against humanity.  Perhaps I am not thinking hard enough, but I can only think of one stellar return, that of My Bloody Valentine’s long-awaited follow up to Loveless, 2013’s M B V. There is simply a very good chance that recapturing the critical success of bygone musical triumphs is too tall an order.  It is rife with risk and many hearts stand to be broken.  I was worried that the new Swervedriver would come across as a new Adam Franklin record, with the old band members along for the ride in his current vehicle.  Franklin’s solo work is very very good, but it is not Swervedriver.  I was worried that the well-received touring may have led the band into the studio with renewed energy but no real ideas – and without the requisite time and focus to truly put together and album worthy of the name.

          I shouldn’t have been worried.  I Wasn’t Born To Lose You is the album I was waiting for.  Even Setting Sun, in the context of the whole, makes sense and feels right.  The album is the perfect distillation and updating of the bands first four releases, yet has its own unique character and place in their catalogue.  The production goes into the red at times, but the sound separation is beautifully defined, putting layer upon layer of guitar drones, chimes, flourish, and feedback, into sweet relief.   George’s bass is where it needs to be at all times, a booming underbelly that drives songs forward in perfect syncopation with and counterpoint to the guitar lines.  New drummer, Mikey Jones, doesn’t hit as hard as the old guard of Graham Bonnar (early years) and Jez (later years), but he is otherwise their equal, and super tight.

          “Autodidact”, the lead track, seems to pick up where 99^th Dream left off, with vocals moved further up front and guitars combining trebly arpeggios with meaty backdrop chords.  “Last Rites” follows the same recipe, while also showcasing improved vocal harmonies and super compressed and overdriven guitar runs.  “For A Day Like Tomorrow” shimmers and chimes and ends with an instrumental coda of pure serenity that reminds me of the outro to “Duel”.  “Everso” is this album’s Duress – an almost 7 minute slow burning drone with multiplying builds and crescendos, and a time signature I can’t manage to successfully count out.  “English Subtitles”, my favorite song of the year and one for the ages, recaptures the pop-single sensibilities of Ejector Seat Reservation’s “The Birds” (and channels the Byrds!).  Swervedriver has never sounded so elegant in their vocal harmonizing – Adam Franklin’s intervening years of singing has greatly improved his voice. 

          “Red Queen’s Arms” race is the only “non-Swervedriver” track on the album, and feels like a total outlier in the band’s discography.  I have to say I don’t love it, because I don’t really dig the genre, but I damn well respect it.  It’s got that sort of psychedelic stoner scuzz rock style harkening back to MC5 and similar to Queens of the Stone Age, or a number of other current blues-metal outfits.  It’s like the band said, “let’s give this style a shot”, and then proceeded to completely dominate it, as if they have been perfecting the sound their whole lives.  It really does kick some serious rock ass.  “Deep Wound” gets a noticeable production remixing, with everything turned up louder, greater vocal presence, and probably some additional tracks thrown on.  It’s greatly improved to the point that the original single sounds like a 4-track demo.  “Lone Star” is another grandiose high point and is the sort of track I would point to provide a listener with the “Swervedriver sound” – words cannot convey what this means exactly, but Lone Star encapsulates it.  Distinct component sections of the song recall “Stellar Caprice”, “Deep Seat”, “Laze It Up”, “99^th Dream”, and several others. 

          The album ends with “I Wonder”, and what an ending!  This would be the closest a song on the record comes to the classic shoegazer sound, in that there are a monstrous number of fuzzy guitar drones, swirls, and chimes backdropping languorous spacey vocals.  Franklin sings “And if the night falls around you / a dream within a dream / and if the light dies within you / it’s never what it seems / behold this rhythmic creation / it’s beautiful and true / and if the boundaries divide you / take care of what you do.  That last line repeats and song grows, dissolves, and decays over the last 3:00 minutes of the album.  The wall of sound is momentous and communicates in no uncertain terms that the mighty Swervedriver has returned.  Album of the year, and for me, probably album of the new millennium.  Welcome back.  Choice tracks: “English Subtitles”, “I Wonder”.