Recording under his own name, Bill Callahan (popularly known as Smog) released an album of simple, understated real-time snapshots of his psyche. Opening with ‘Jim Cain,’ one of the year’s best songs (and containing one of the year’s most compelling lyrics: “I used to be darker / Then I got lighter / Then I got dark again”), the record contains subtle orchestral and brass flourishes to accent Callahan’s strikingly deep, surprisingly fragile storyteller’s voice and maintain the momentum of the songs. It is rare for a record this deceptively peaceful to contain such tension, Callahan capturing more in a simple key change than most artists could in the most layered, complex arrangement. The songs are noticeably efficient, without any unnecessary instrumentation. Most affecting, though, is the way Callahan expresses his insecurities (“Love is the king of the beasts / and when it gets hungry it must kill to eat”) and fears with a tired and quiet dignity.
Few songwriters possess the uniquely disarming honesty of The Scotland Yard Gospel Choir’s Elia. …And the Horse You Rode In On is full of tales of first-person relational devastation, completely without filters. Depending on your mood at the time, this album will seem either overwrought to the point of being ironically enjoyable, or will perfectly capture your thoughts and feelings that are too socially unacceptable for you to express yourself (“I hope you catch syphilis and die alone,” or “These days I find disturbing pictures in my mind of you as a mangled traffic accident…and in the daydream, I always smile”). The album is expertly sequenced so as not to lose momentum under the weight of its own lyrical sentiments. A lively, punk-inspired soundtrack for an emotional meltdown, …And the Horse You Rode In On is intensely literal, unnervingly identifiable, and strangely comforting.
It’s to the point of being predictable to include any Neko Case release on year-end lists, but she continues to make records to justify the status. It’s not just that she can sing circles around anyone else, or that she has an uncanny ability to sound equally stunning in rich or minimal arrangements, or that her songwriting continues to mature, or her the unique perspective of writing love songs from the perspective of tornados (“…carved your name across three counties…”), or taking photographs of planes by taking photos of their shadows. It’s that there is a compelling dichotomy in her reluctance to admit that all her songs are ultimately love songs, so grudgingly forthcoming in interviews yet so confidently vulnerable in her music, making for an album with arguably four of the year’s best songs (particularly the haunting ‘Vengeance Is Sleeping,’ and her cover of Harry Nilsson’s ‘Don’t Forget Me’).
It’s Blitz! successfully captures the legendary energy of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ live shows and combines it with Karen O’s signature emotional vulnerability. ‘Zero’ is arguably the most airtight, commanding single of the band’s career; the electronic/organic musical balance, bone-rattling riff and versatile vocal performance by Karen O (mysterious and restrained in the verses, a soaring knockout punch in the choruses) sets the tone for the rest of the record. The record is also drummer Brian Chase’s finest work, as he proves equally adept at power and finesse musicianship; the entire band has such familiarity with each other that they know how to balance each other to best compliment any given song. The record’s rich ballads are among the record’s most enjoyable moments, as it allows Karen O’s one-of-a-kind emotional resonance to take center stage. It’s Blitz! more than justifies the Yeah Yeah Yeahs reputation as indie rock trendsetters.
Charles Spearin (Do Make Say Think, Broken Social Scene), who had long been fascinated by the musical elements of everyday speech and language, recruited his neighbours to discuss their thoughts on happiness. He then used his neighbours’ vocal characteristics and arranged their dialogues into songs, pairing specific instruments to portray the melody of his subjects’ voices. The result is a rare masterpiece, the kind of conceptual and artistic originality that makes you feel like you’re hearing music for the first time. Additionally, Spearin’s neighbours have genuinely meaningful insights into happiness, best demonstrated by ‘Anna’ and ‘Vanessa.’ In examining what makes music music, Spearin has broadened the parameters immeasurably by making the connections to the deeper concepts of personality, sociology, spirituality, life. Stunningly fundamental, the album is uniquely relevant – the kind of album that’s as valuable as an academic study as much as a timely resource for personal spiritual renewal.
For more than a year, rumours emerged from U2’s camp about their forthcoming album, that it was to be a bold departure from their most recent decade’s worth of work. What was ultimately released was a record that was a record undeniably similar to their previous two albums, except that instead of being classy and a “return to form,” Horizon was redundant, completely without momentum, and arguably phoned in. Up to a dozen staffers participated in each song’s production, engineering, and mixing, but they were the same collaborators U2’s used for decades – this album was never going in a new direction. The only new face was will.i.am, an inevitable collaboration between a band who still thinks itself to be the world’s most important and an artist who thinks that making a pro-Obama online video last year makes him a cultural force. ‘Breathe’ is a good song, and ‘Magnificent’ has its moments, but the rest is inconsequential. And Bono barking computer metaphors (Force! Quit! And! Move! To! Trash!) was one of the year’s low points. No Line on the Horizon is ultimately the sound of a band whose legacy can’t be disputed, but who have put themselves out to pasture.
