My Top 10 Albums of 2011
It'll be a clean, succinct top 10 this year. Just The Ten Of Us. Right, then.
10.The Strokes — Angles
I seem to recall a friend of mine saying this album was awful. Maybe it was a disappointment, but awful? No, that didn't seem right. Angles is actually pretty good. Maybe we all expect too much of the Strokes, but don't forget that First Impressions of Earth was no great shakes. This is better. "Machu Picchu," "Under Cover of Darkness," "Taken For a Fool," "Gratisfaction" ... I wouldn't kick any of those tunes out of my ears. I'd say half of this album holds its own against Room on Fire. Maybe that's not everything we've ever wanted, but what else can we ask for at this point?
9. Okkervil River — I Am Very Far
Speaking of holding a band up against prior expectations, I Am Very Far doesn't grab me like, oh, just about every other Okkervil River album. It's hard to put a finger on why, exactly. Maybe the emphasis on making the sound bigger doesn't give any time for rest — the coherence of the album actually takes away from the smaller, affecting moments found on past works. That's just a theory. Maybe the songs just aren't quite as good this time around.
8. Wilco — The Whole Love
Kind of a provisional ranking here, because I feel I haven't spent enough time with The Whole Love yet. But I really like what Wilco has done here — this is more of a push back to the sound and experimentation of the group's peak era. "I Might" is the band's best song in ages.
7. They Might Be Giants — Join Us
The Johns haven't lost it, have they? I'm starting to wonder if they're just ingeniously designed song-making automatons, never slowing down, never growing old, writing unforgettable melodies all the while. In some cases, the band that created "Boat of Car" is getting even weirder ... listen to "Cloisonné." But I suppose one wouldn't expect any less from two guys who have continued to push themselves in every and any direction for the better part of three decades.
6. Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks — Mirror Traffic
Good to see Malkmus didn't follow Real Emotional Trash down the jammy rabbit hole. (Oh, you've never met the jammy rabbit? He loves carrot-based clothing and his guitar solos never end.) Mirror Traffic is more vintage Malkmus — sly melodies, full of Malkmus lines: "For history is not a phase/a doughnut glaze/will rot your teeth/and leave you crazed." "I have no idea when we crystallized into talking bookends." "We're unevolving, have you heard of us?/Virtual unvirtuous/A game of faro, can't you see?/Bastardized biology." And so on and so forth. I suppose I should mention something about how Beck produced the album. Well, I don't see how it could have hurt.
5. My Morning Jacket — Circuital
First off, at the top, I'm going to have to address this again. I know I've written about it before, and I talk about it too often. I don't want to do this, but I read too much stuff this year that forced my hand. So, once more, with feeling: Evil Urges is, at the very least, the band's second-best album. And maybe the best. So stop letting "Highly Suspicious" mess your entire perception of MMJ's strongest overall collection of songs. I will argue this for as long as necessary.
Anyway, where were we? Ah, yes, Circuital. There's a lot of groove going on here. "Holdin' On to Black Metal" is one of the coolest things I heard all year. Then you have "Wonderful (The Way I Feel)," which is such a quintessential Jim James song — he brings that gorgeous warmth to the slower tracks. I feel like he could write a few classic songs like this every year. It seems effortless. To me, most of Circuital feels like a natural expansion of the MMJ sound, and I wouldn't mind if the group pushed it even further next time around.
4. TV on the Radio — Nine Types of Light
It seems I always end up thinking the newest TV on the Radio album is the band's best. But this time, I mean it. I swear. More of a grower than anything the group has done before, TVOTR brings a confident, assured sound to Nine Types of Light. And I find myself going back to it more than any other TVOTR album in the past. It came on quietly, but it's the group's strongest set of songs.
3. tUnE-yArDs — w h o k i l l
Who is this? That was my first thought when I heard "Bizness." Man? Woman? Otherworldly being? Merrill Garbus is a woman, but her voice is from another realm. And so is this album. Garbus layers sounds and loops — anything goes, really — and creates something unique. Which, I realize, is similar to what I wrote about Sufjan Stevens' masterpiece The Age of Adz. But although neither discriminates when it comes to merging noise and melody, Garbus and Stevens go about their work in different ways. Garbus doesn't mind jarring and shaking you a bit more — one gets the sense that, often, she's going for just that. And her voice is so reckless, it's glorious. Take-no-prisoners, pull-no-punches vocals.
The only thing I don't like about the album or the artist are the crazy spellings. I suppose you could say its reflective of her sound or ethos or whatever, but c'mon now.
2. Let's Wrestle — Nursing Home
There will always be a place in my heart for brilliant British pop-punk/post-punk. And if it comes with some humor, even better. Let's Wrestle carry on that tradition proudly.
Many seemed to enjoy the group's debut full-length, In the Court of the Wrestling Let's. But few people seemed to pay attention to Nursing Home. (It doesn't even have a Wikipedia page, for crying out loud.) Maybe they thought Let's Wrestle was an amusing one-trick pony. Maybe it was the too-clever King Crimson reference.
Well, whatever the case, you folks are missing out, because this trio has gotten even better. Wesley Patrick Gonzalez's songwriting is stronger, the Steve Albini production is stellar (of course), and Let's Wrestle is just as funny as before. But, lest you be concerned that Let's is too immature (one song is titled "Bad Mammaries"), be assured that the guys are in on the jokes. Gonzalez wrote the second great "Suburbs" song in the last two years. But where Win Butler and Arcade Fire looked to the suburbs with bittersweet nostalgia and found those times didn't always lead to an ideal future, Let's Wrestle is younger. These guys love the suburbs, and they'll miss it, and they're not afraid to admit it:
"In the suburbs,everything will be all right/In the suburbs, friends will come over each night/In the suburbs, I'll have dinner with my mother, then play computer games all night/All I'll ever worry about is feeling out of sight/'Cause I feel so safe here." But they're also worried about when school ends, " 'Cause that's when I'll have to move from here." It doesn't have the scope and vision of the Arcade Fire song, sure, but it's just as honest. Maybe even more so.
If nothing else, enjoying Nursing Home lets me know that I'm not too old yet. Because when you're too old, sometimes, it's hard to know.
1. Fleet Foxes — Helplessness Blues
This is what you want a second album to be. Fleet Foxes' full-length debut was very good, with some amazing high points. But spots of the album did drag just a bit. Not the case here. The sound is larger and completely assured. Rather than just a talented band carving a niche for itself, on Helplessness Blues, Fleet Foxes sound like a group fully aware of its many powers.
The opener, "Montezuma," grabs you from the outset. Shimmering and wonderous, I believed almost immediately that it was the band's best song. But it has major competition on this album alone. "Battery Kinzie," the title track, "Lorelai," "The Shrine/An Argument" are all worthy foes.
Fleet Foxes have earned comparisons to Simon and Garfunkel and Crosby, Stills and Nash, among other classic bands. There are times when I sense a bit of slower prog-rock influences creeping into their work, as well. But all of these comparisons — which can be scattershot — only convince me the band has its own sound now. Its own instant-classic sound. Maybe we couldn't all hear that before, but it's been solidified with Helplessness Blues. And the lyrics are a thing of beauty. From the majestic title track:
"I was raised up believing I was somehow unique, like a snowflake, distinct among snowflakes, distinct in each way you'd conceive. And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be a functioning cog in some great machinery, serving something beyond me. But I don't, I don't know what that will be. I'll get back to you someday, soon you'll see."
Podcastin’
Plenty of flux in my life right now. So much so that I wish I had some kind of capacitor to harness the power of it all.
But one thing is new and certain: A podcast I'm hosting with my good friend Kevin Purdy. It's called In Pod Form, and it deals with matters tech-related, entertainment-related, and so forth. That "so forth" could include any number of topics and tangents.
Note: We are not yet experts in matters broadcasting or podcasting, so if we're a little rough around the edges, well, that's part of the appeal, innit? At least we're hoping.
What's that link again?
The Super Furry Animals record store theory
You've only got a couple minutes to decide whether or not you want to spend your time in any given record store. What do you do?
I maintain that you can usually tell the quality of any music store by its Super Furry Animals section. Checking the SFA stock is my quick, go-to litmus test. Here's why:
1. Super Furry Animals are a great band, and a personal favorite of mine. I wouldn't care to base a theory around a band I didn't like. Obviously.
2. Super Furry Animals are just obscure enough. They're obscure enough that most people haven't heard of 'em, but they're not so obscure that it would be unfair to expect a store to carry 'em. The group has plenty of albums, all of which are fairly acclaimed.
3. Super Furry Animals are foreign. Welsh, to be exact. If you see foreign copies of the group's albums, any of the group's albums before they're released in the U.S., or a copy of Mwng? That's a good sign you'll find other albums you've been targeting.
4. Super Furry Animals have rarities. Again, most of these are not so rare that it would be unreasonable to expect a store to stock them, but rare enough — Out Spaced is a B-sides and rarities compilation, Phantom Phorce is a remix album of Phantom Power that I see from time to time and Songbook: The Singles, Vol. 1 is a rarely seen greatest hits comp. Any of these sightings is a plus. SFA's first EP was called Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyndrobwllantysiliogogogochynygofod (in space). I've never seen it in person. If you find it in a store? Chances are, there's plenty of gold in them thar' shelves.
5. If the store has a SFA section, but they're all out of stock, by all means, do not dismiss the place! After all, someone took the time to write (or type) Super Furry Animals on a white plastic divider, which shows they care. Pick your own band as a litmus test and move along. (If you have hours to browse, you didn't need to use the SFA test in the first place.)
Fifteen Shots: Now available on NOOK
So, my novella, Fifteen Shots, is now available for the Barnes & Noble NOOK. No foolin'. Click here.
(I know I could just write "Nook," but Barnes & Noble always lists it as "NOOK," so I usually always go along with that. Just like the exclamation point in "Yahoo!" The actions of a journalist, an editor or someone with random occurrences of extremely mild OCD? Perhaps all three.)
If you're wondering why I didn't make the e-book available on the other major book reader earlier, well, once I fought through the tedious process of formatting the book for the Kindle, I didn't feel like doing that sort of thing all over again. Little did I know about Calibre, which made the conversion process easy. I mean, embarrassingly easy. Like, "I can't believe how easy that was, why didn't you do that earlier, you ignorant, lazy fool?" sort of easy.
So, I guess it boils down to laziness. Sorry. Lesson learned. But the book is there now! And still just $2.99!
Ticket Stub Tales: Nov. 22, 2005
Pittsburgh Penguins vs. Washington Capitals, Mellon Arena, Pittsburgh - 11/22/2005
The very first Crosby vs. Ovechkin game. There was a lot of hype, of course. It was obvious that greatness was already in reach for both of these guys. But even more importantly at the time, everybody WANTED them to be great. You couldn't get much more anticipation for a regular season hockey game, and justifiably so.
The Pens have a program called Student Rush, where your student ID gets you a decent ticket at a reasonable price. ($25 now, but I believe it was $20 at the time.) The Penguins don't need to do this — especially now, when every game sells out — but they keep doing it anyway, even though fewer tickets are available these days. Why? Well, the Pens are a class organization. But that's not all. Student Rush is a great idea, because it continues to build a fan base. Young folks, some who have never been to a hockey game before, get to see sold-out games for cheap. You may lose a few bucks on ticket prices, but you might be adding new fans for life. And it adds to the game atmosphere. Because, hey, you know those college kids. Not afraid to get loud and rowdy. It's really a great idea, and I don't understand why more teams don't have similar programs.
Student Rush. That was the path we took that night. It was just me and my friend, Allan. The line was long and the air was cold, but the tickets were cheap. Crosby and Ovechkin waited inside. And the rest of the Pens and Caps, of course. Those Pens included some guy named Lemieux. And...Ziggy Palffy! Sergei Gonchar! John LeClair, who could hardly skate at that point! Steve Poapst! LASSE PIRJETA!
So, we waited in line. And waited. And it was colder than we thought. I was just wearing my Lemieux jersey over a t-shirt, and after a while, that just wasn't cutting it. God, it was freezing. We were out there for at least an hour, probably longer.
Finally, the line started moving. It was a very long line, and they could have run out of tickets at any second, but we had faith, and hey, we had waited too long to leave. We got closer. And closer. The gate was in sight. That's when it happened.
It wasn't quite what you'd see in a cartoon, with the two of us bounding happily to the ticket window, only to see a metal SOLD OUT gate slammed in our faces. But it wasn't far off. We were only a few people away from the final tickets to be sold that night.
So, that was it. The game had already started. But we weren't about to get this far and not get in. A quick decision was made: Find a scalper and pay up. We found a guy with $75 tickets. Pretty good seats. The game had already started by now, so it wasn't tough to talk him down. I think we got to $60 or so (could have been less), and we were finally in. Ah, the (relative) waiting warmth of Mellon Arena.
By the time we got to our seats, it was 4-0 Pens, and getting near the end of the first period. I knew we'd be lucky to see another Pens goal. (We saw one, from Palffy, with Crosby picking up an assist.)
The Caps came back, but ended up falling short, 5-4. I don't remember much about Crosby from the game, other than getting ready to catch my breath every time he touched the puck. The Kid was great. We all knew it.
Ovechkin, however, was the most noticeable player on the ice. I didn't say he was the best player on the ice, though. He was out of control. Whereas Crosby seemed to take the game in stride, you could tell Ovechkin knew the hockey world was watching that night, so he cranked it up. He was trying to stick handle through three guys at once, throwing his body around, taking wild shots. I specifically remember a whiff and a wipe out at some point from Ovechkin, much to the delight of the crowd. He was TOO amped up.
It didn't help that the crowd was already booing him every time he touched the puck. The booing got louder as the game went on, though, and that had everything to do with Ovechkin playing like he was on speed. He single-handedly wanted to bring his team back that night. He wanted to be the star of the show. He and the crowd pushed each other all game long.
In the end, it wasn't enough. I wonder if that night showed me something about Ovechkin that I didn't realize at the time. His blessing is his curse. Yes, he'll usually be the most noticeable player on the ice, and he can always wow you with his ability. But maybe, he still doesn't know when to let off the gas a little bit, when to make the smarter play, when to make the right pass, or how to let his talent work in more subtle ways.
When you show a hockey fan Ovechkin and Crosby for the first time, all team biases aside, chances are, that fan will gravitate toward Ovechkin. (Casual fans or non-hockey fans will likely choose Ovechkin by a wide margin, I'm assuming. At least, Ovechkin circa 2005-2009. But that's a point for another time.) But during the course of a few more games, or a season — maybe during the course of a career — that's when you really notice the genius of Crosby.
Now, it's not like Crosby's a boring player. Nothing could be further from the truth. He's the best. He's got oodles of sick plays in his oeuvre, but his skating style is strong and smooth. Ovechkin is wild and choppy, like all of his energy is going to burst right through his skin.
Ovechkin took the third star that night, with one assist. With one goal and one assist, Crosby got the first star. (Though Ziggy Palffy probably should have gotten the first star that night, with two goals and one assist.)
I never got a program when I walked through the door, but as I was leaving the arena that night, I saw one on the floor. The cover was ripped and partially stained.
"Are you sure you want to keep that?" Allan asked me.
I looked at it again. "Yeah."
I still have that program.