Recapping the year in music is an exercise that has been an annual tradition for me these last several years. I find it to be helpful to
orient my own tastes and preferences, to encourage revisiting and reexamining and
to more deeply consider things that I experienced, I may have missed, or that I
never gave a fair listen. It also serves to preserve my
own thoughts and feelings that I can revisit in the future– what is music,
after all, but ephemeral – so that I might remember what I liked at a given
point in time, and revisit that time and place through music, or reexamine it in a different emotional context.
While this exercise has always been one of acknowledged futility, the sense of futility felt especially pungent this year. The transformation
of the music landscape; listening mediums and delivery systems, the ease and
lowered cost of production and dissemination, have flooded the market. Music
now comes from everywhere, seemingly omnipresent. While this is
great – there is no shortage of excellent music to listen to and engage with -
it also adds to that unique 21st century despair: the feeling that
the world is unknowable, that the size and speed of information available
cheapens everything and makes it difficult, if not impossible, to understand
anything at all.
The evolution of the album as either a concept or idea was
particularly tumultuous this year. “Records” were unleashed into the wild with
little or no warning, accompanied by books and visual companions, websites,
multimedia campaigns. It is difficult to keep up, to not
just listen but to engage and contextualize, to reckon with the
increasing pressure of how everything either is or is not a statement in a world
that now moves at the speed of twitter, where music arrives unannounced, immediately,
and disappears no less quickly, and is expected, amongst it all, to comment on the world it arrives into.
That 2016 was also an American election year, and was
otherwise politically tumultuous at home and abroad, is also a fact of great
importance when taking emotional inventory. The jackhammer rapidity
and acrid tenor of the campaign took its toll on the collective conscience and provided a unique emotional backdrop for engaging with culture this
year. After all, we do not engage with culture in a vacuum. Context is relevant.
It is also worth mentioning that I spent almost a third of the year perched atop a bicycle,
riding from one coast to the other, visiting and engaging with alien places. This no doubt shaped my perception of the stuff that made its
way into my eardrums, but also changed the delivery system and primary
emotional context for my musical engagement. The back half of my year was set amidst trying to acclimate to a new city, a new coast, a new culture.
If anything, there was, perhaps, a gentle emotional tug towards more familiar
noises, to musical comfort food than a year
of otherwise general stability, where music is sought out more for excitement and challenge.
Going through this exercise I find allows some context and
clarity to try and better understand the world, those gnawing, infinite
feelings. This is what it means to be alive and conscious. Futile though it may be, making lists is one of the
ways to try and sift through all the stuff out there and make some sense of it
all.
I know that submitting a top three
of Kanye West, Radiohead, and Bon Iver, will illicit, at best, eyerolls if not outright derision and contempt from some circles. And yet, those are the albums that I lived in this year,
that despite all of the conversations and meta- and sub-conversations, despite
the tweets and the tumult, these were the albums that I turned to and engaged
with and loved more than any other and to avoid that outright because it is
uncool would be intellectually and emotionally dishonest.
The Life of Pablo is a difficult collection of songs to talk
about. It arrived over-hyped, an event, a twitter-fueled behemoth that shifted
and changed and evolved over months, that is maybe not yet complete, an album
that I even I think could be better, but I nonetheless think is the best album
of the year. While I think the conversation regarding the publicly-evolving
piece of art is interesting and worth having, what I am primarily concerned
about is the collection of songs that finally emerged and settled out by year’s
end, that exists today. I understand that Kanye West has made himself an easily
loathable figure, but the music that he puts his name on – whoever you need to
attribute the credit to so as to sleep better at night – is masterfully
executed and forward-thinking. There are more ideas per square second on this
record than on any other I listened to this year. It is so generous in its
creative energy as to seem uncontainable, it zigs and zags sometimes
uncontrollably, but never uninterestingly. It is 2016, the record. tLoP is
like, 5 guest verses away from dethroning MBDTF as Kanye’s best record, but to
say that is to nitpick and to diminish the great album that he did, ultimately,
give us. Love him or hate him, I defy you to find a collection of songs with so
much dick-out, balls-to-the-wall creative energy as this one. It is yet another
masterclass of music production. It sounds like the future. It encapsulates the
present. This is everything.
We had bit off probably more than we cared to admit, the
three of us who had stayed up all night, packing up one apartment, cleaning and
discarding it, and the life that I had lived for the last six years, and we had
gotten up too early, biked for too long, not eaten enough or applied sunscreen
like we should have. But we had the Life of Pablo. It was the album that
powered the last twenty miles of a hundred mile day that never should have
been. From the first sounds of that young child “we don’t want no devils in the
house, we want the lord” on Ultralight Beam, the unquestionably best song of
the year, I knew that we would make it, no matter the circumstances. "I met Kanye West, I'm never going to fail" Chance the Rapper declares on that opening cut. And any time I needed an extra jolt of energy this year, it was this album that I turned to.
My strongest first memory of a Moon Shaped Pool is listening
to it under a pavilion behind the Presbyterian church in Booneville, Kentucky.
It stormed with a holy fury that night. I awoke in the dead of night, having
heard the sound of our bikes blowing over and the explosive shudder of thunder, to rescue some clothes that had spun off their line having been hand
wrung and hung to dry. The sky that I saw that night; massive, beautiful,
intense and desperate, is the image in my head of A Moon Shaped Pool.
Radiohead
are three decades in, with no shortage of masterpieces under their belts, and
they added in 2016, yet another. It is stunning to see a band who has already
changed and shaped music many times in my life refusing to rest on their laurels,
constantly challenging themselves, but doing so purposefully. A Moon
Shaped Pool is nothing if not purposeful. The result, in part, of the dissolution
of Thom Yorke’s twenty year relationship – and with the subsequent news that
his former partner lost her battle to cancer - the record is devastating, startling and powerful. A Moon Shaped Pool is a personal and
intimate album from notoriously obtuse songwriters, and it is a stunning and
rewarding manifesto on life, love and loss.
Bon Iver’s 22, A Million is, in a way, the midpoint between
the massive outpouring of ego and creativity of the Life of Pablo and the
contemplative inwardness and mourning on A Moon Shaped Pool. 22, A Million is an obtuse collection of at once difficult noises and awkward, confusing song titles, a meditation on mathematics, mysticism, and the numbers that shape
the world. It is the third album from the artist that once, many years ago, won
the adoration of the indie community with his broken-hearted guy with a guitar
in the woods album. It is an album that gives no fucks, and that is all the more loveable for its singular and unapologetic vision.
22, A Million is the sound of an ego turned in, and then back out, and finally
back in on itself, a digital ouroboros manifested as enigma; a musical
Escher/Picasso/Dahli. Listen and get lost in its shifting beauty and majesty,
in its unique and gorgeous soundscapes.
MY WOMAN is a sneaky great album. It unfolds somehow both quickly and slowly. It burns bright on
the first half with brief, high intensity songs, before slowing and stretching into a long, slow burn on the back end, hiding layers of depth and
sonic ingenuity below a still and shimmering surface. It is over before you realize the journey that you have gone on, and for me, it demanded an
immediate repeat listen. And then again, yet another. After the third straight
listen, I was lost in its expanse, caught in its spell. It is the
quintessential follow up to a critical success, it grows by measures, and
suggests depth that is not lost to accessibility. It is one of those great records that rewards in equal measure the effort you are willing to commit to listening to it.
Arts & Leisure is the second solo release from Walter
Martin, the former bassist of the Walkmen. His first release was an unexpected
and delightful collection of children’s songs, a tribute to his then newborn
child, featuring a revolving door of Brooklyn indie-greats singing goofy little
songs that were just absolutely drenched in charm
and fun. His follow up is a meditation on a life half-lived, his through the lens of his college study
of art history, hence the title. It is brief and light, but it, perhaps more
than any other album this year, brought a smile to my face. Watch Down by the Singing Sea and beam with
the good vibes.
Damien Jurado’s Visions of Us on the Land is a warm and
dusty record that haunts me with images of ghosts of the American southwest.
It hums with the spirit of the red rocks and grand canyons, of an old, abandoned, rugged west, long in the past, and yet somehow just on the horizon. It is the third in the trilogy of records for which he has been paired
with producer Richard Swift, and it is a fitting and excellent conclusion.
Wilco’s Schmilco is another seemingly pocket-sized record
that though ostensibly small, seems to grow like creature of myth and fit
whatever space it is unleashed into. While billed almost as a throwaway album -even it's own title feels dismissive - as the
remnants of 2015’s excellent Star Wars sessions, it is introspective and great American songwriting fleshed out, unassumingly by
an absolutely powerhouse rock and roll band, whose restraint perfectly fits the
records mood, timbre, and subject.
Coloring Book, Chance the Rapper’s stubbornly insistent
mixtape is a joyous and vibrant collection of songs that reflect its young creator’s
enormous energy and spirit. But it is just a degree of quality control away from
being an all-time great. Chance is charismatic and delightful and
that spirit informs the album which, pound for pound, has perhaps
the most certifiable bangers per second of any album released in 2016, but
whose stubborn insistence in clinging to the “mixtape” designation – the particularities
of which are, admittedly, lost on me – holds it back from true, unfettered
greatness. Whereas Kanye West’s energies on Pablo are vast if not spastic,
confusing and distracting on the Life of Pablo, they all cohere around his ego
and the energy of the record to make a unified album. Freestyle 4,
for instance, is not a track that I would elect to put on by itself, but it serves a function greater than itself in the context of the whole. Coloring Book, frustratingly, presents as a gospel hip-hip record – and hits
exactly that concept clean out of the park roughly 80% of the time before
meandering frustratingly to “No Problem” and “Mixtape”, songs that do not contribute to the whole, which both diminish the
overall flow and quality of the album. Had the concept been realized in
greater totality, it could have been an all-timer. As it is, it is an
exceptional collection of individual tracks that serves my purposes better as a
playlist wherein I can separate the wheat from the chaff, but whose wheat is truly delightful.
When You Walk a Long Distance You Are Tired is the indie
debut of the year. Athens, Georgia’s Mothers, the vehicle for frontwoman
Kristine Leschper’s words and voice, which have been likened to the
work of Joanna Newsom and Angel Olsen, but which steps out of the shadows of them
all to be its own unique and beautiful thing. Too Small for Eyes and Copper
Mines are two examples of vastly different highlights, both of which invigorate
and excite in different ways. It is intimate and daring and well worth your
time.
Where Have You Been All My Life? By Villagers was my chief
musical comfort food in 2016, a collection, essentially, of greatest hits from
a band less than a decade old, just three LPs into their career, but an album
that is so warm, cohesive, and inviting that it got me through many cold months
and difficult emotions. Re-recorded live albums are an easy
thing to dismiss, but what emerges on this collection is the work
of a young and excellent songwriter reimagining his best work in a new context,
and presenting it cohesively and compellingly, and though it is not new, per
se, it is excellent and compulsively listenable. This scratched a similar itch as Andrew Bird’s Handsome Family
covers record from a few years ago. When I often felt lost or lonely in
2016, this was some of the best medicine I could find.
A few additional notes: I
have had many conversations regarding music in 2016 and its aims and value
particularly w/r/t its honesty as music
and art - does it matter, when considering the greatness of a thing, to consider the aims of the artist, and why and how it was produced i.e. do contract disputes weigh on the final product. I have long been an apologist for “pop” music, no less happy to
declare my love for the new Lady Gaga album (I have not yet given 2016’s effort
a spin, unfortunately) as the new indie darling, instrumental record, or
experimental noise music. That said, the one album that did particularly
frustrate me this year, as cynical, was Beyoncé’s Lemonade, an otherwise
consensus album of the year nominee, that I have listened to a number of times,
and an album that has many of the qualities that I admire in say, the
production chops on display in the Life of Pablo. It is difficult, without
producing a phD-length thing to elucidate precisely why I think Lemonade was cynical and tLoP was not, but it has a lot to do with the tertiary
conversations surrounding many of these event albums, namely the exploitation
of Beyoncé’s personal life, her alleged relationship strife, and the various
massive contract negotiations that had to have happened to produce a work of
that magnitude that had and still has Tidal exclusivity, that debuted for a
week, as a visual album on HBO, and so on and so forth. That is an interesting
conversation that I would be happy to have elsewhere, but just doesn’t fit in
the context of this thing here and now, point being that I have listened to
Lemonade, and while I like large chunks of it, no I don’t think that it is one
of the best albums of the year.
Another quick footnote is trying to consider an album or
work of art’s own aims/goals/aspirations and how to deal with them in relation
to how much I actually went back to a work or got any personal joy out of it. The conscious public art worthiness is something that I
tried to give less credence to this year, weighing more heavily works that I actually felt compelled to return to, or that I look back on with particular fondness.
Some near-misses that I would highly recommend, but didn’t
quite make the cut include: Frank Ocean’s Blonde which is basically an Elliott
Smith record, but made by one of the best R&B talents on the planet. It is
excellent and interesting and challenging. Car Seat Headrest’s Teens of Denial
which is sprawling and ambitious and heavy hitting and a must listen for fans
of Pavement and Television. Solange’s a Seat at the Table which has a quiet
cool and righteous fury and is practically a must listen in the greater context
of 2016, Margo Price’s Midwest Farmer’s Daughter which continues Jack White’s
incredible penchant for finding incredible musicians who are adapting American
southern and roots music to the 21st century, Mitski’s Puberty 2
(hilarious, frustrated, 90’s, punkish), Chris Staples’ (Not Chris Stapleton)
Golden Age (wry, contemplative) Whitney’s Light Upon the Lake (for fans of
CSNY) , Paul Simon’s Stranger to Stranger (Probably America’s greatest ever
songwriter, still going strong), Parquet Courts’ Human Performance (the best
stoner rock going, relentlessly deadpan), and the Frightnrs gorgeous Nothing
More to Say, a contemporary rocksteady record from the Daptone label.
Discussion, recommendations, and all else welcome. Thank you
for coming here and for reading this and for being you. Cheers, and enjoy 2017!
Scroll down for the top albums of the year Long Form
Top Ten Quotes about my Top Ten Albums
1.
tLoP – “It’s this
unholy amalgam of anger and swagger and self-loathing and--above all--love, all
served over some of the best production work the man has ever done.” Will
Emeritus, Sputnikmusic
2.
A Moon Shaped Pool – “Very few records are able to transport the listener to a different world
full of visceral, palpable feeling for even just one listen. A Moon Shaped Pool
manages to do it over and over again with the feelings deepening rather than
cheapening with each successive listen.” William Tomer, the 405
3.
22, A Million – “These
songs are chaotic, unexpected and jarring. Samples, vocoders, and shambling synths
crash together in an unstructured soundscape. But if you listen through the
anarchy, you will find a stirring, masterful odyssey.” Joe Marvilli, No Ripcord
4.
MY WOMAN - “On
the surface, a welcoming, accessible, wholly beautiful record, but laced with depth,
allusion, and verbal knots that refuse to be untied. It’s addictive yet
confusing, instantaneous yet difficult to fully understand--it continually
forces to you to cease arguing, and simply listen.” Robin Murray, Clash
5.
Arts & Leisure – “Arts & Leisure is so easygoing that it's easy to underestimate, but
it reveals Martin as a first-rate storyteller who captures the joys of new
sights and new ways of thinking in songs full of life and humor.” Heather
Phares, Allmusic
6.
Visions of Us on the Land – “With bountiful sonic and lyrical left turns that are full of
adventure, mystery, and soul-searching, Jurado completes his vision for the
trilogy in grand fashion.” Joshua M. Miller, Under the Radar
7.
Schmilco – “Schmilco
seems diffident and restrained, mostly built around the folk-rock strummings of
Jeff Tweedy’s acoustic guitar, with minimal embellishments. But it’s exactly
the right approach for the bitter, painfully personal songs he has written
here, which address the living and the dead, the loving and the lost, and most
of all Tweedy’s own furies and frustrations.” Andy Gill, Independent (UK)
8.
Coloring Book – “This
is a vibrant, uneven, irresistibly likable, and occasionally transcendent
release from an artist who shows no signs of falling off anytime soon.”
9.
When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired – “Consistent in character and quality, WYWALDYAT is a rare
debut, one that impacts second to second rather than by hook or groove.” Marcy
Donelson, Allmusic
1.
Where Have You Been All My Life? – “The drastic acoustic reinterpretation on this album feels
like the song’s natural state, the long-building crescendo threatens to swallow
the singer before he has finished saying his piece.” Pat Healy, Pitchfork
Best Albums of 2016:
1. Kanye West – the Life of Pablo
1. Kanye West – the Life of Pablo
2. Radiohead – A Moon Shaped Pool
3. Bon Iver – 22, A Million
4. Angel Olsen – MY WOMAN
5. Walter Martin – Arts & Leisure
6. Damien Jurado – Visions of Us on the Land
7. Wilco – Schmilco
8. Chance the Rapper – Coloring Book
9. Mothers – When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired
10. Villagers – Where Have You Been All My Life?
11. Frank Ocean – Blonde
12. Car Seat Headrest – Teens of Denial
13. Solange – A Seat at the Table
14. Margo Price – Midwest Farmer’s Daughter
15. Mitski – Puberty 2
16. Chris Staples – Golden Age
17. Whitney – Light Upon the Lake
18. Paul Simon – Stranger to Stranger
19. Parquet Courts – Human Performance
20. The Frightnrs – Nothing More to Say
21. A Tribe Called Quest – We Got it From Here…Thank You 4
Your Service
22. Vince Staples – Prima Donna
23. Andrew Bird – Are You Serious
24. Anderson .Paak – Malibu
25. Beyonce - Lemonade
26. John K. Samson – Winter Wheat
27. John Legend – DARKNESS AND LIGHT
28. Michael Kiwanuka – Love & Hate
29. Danny Brown – Atrocity Exhibition
30. Margaret Glaspy – Emotions and Math
Sturgill Simpson – A Sailor’s Guide to Earth
Animal Collective – Painting With
Childish Gambino – Awaken, My Love
D. D. Dumbo – Utopia Defeated
Daughter – Not to Disappear
Drive-by Truckers – American Band
Hamilton Leithauser + Rostam – I Had A Dream That You Were
Mine
Jeff Parker – The New Breed
Joyce Manor – Cody
King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard – Nonagon Infinity
Kyle Morton – What Will Destroy You
Lewis Del Mar – EP
Case/Lang/Veirs - Case/Lang/Veirs
Okkervil River – Away
PJ Harvey – The Hope Six Demolition Party
Ray LaMontagne – Ouroboros
Rihanna – ANTI
Sam Beam, Jessica Hoop – Love Letter for Fire
Shearwater – Jet Plane and Oxbow
Shovels & Rope – Little Seeds
Thao & the Get Down Stay Down – A Man Alive
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