And now for the last twenty. Will your #1 be mine?
20. Dancing on My Own
by Robyn
from Body Talk Pt. 1
[Electronic / Pop]
If Ke$ha is the disease then Robyn is the cure. Open-minded enough to appreciate dumb pop music on its own level but sick and tired of someone like Beyoncé being considered a “star”? I might suggest rooting through Robyn’s back catalogue for a few infectious winners, but she started out as unlistenable as any of them (echoing TLC and predating “Baby One More Time”). Instead, I’ll point out that some time this decade, she began morphing into a new queen of electro-pop and fashioned songs universally appealing regardless of race, gender and sexuality. Then I’ll insist that you check out “Dancing on My Own,” as plain and undemanding a torch song as anything else of its ilk on the US countdown, but I’ve never counted down the seconds until I discover what a bullet tastes like before someone switches it off. This one’s the real deal—impeccably crafted, reminiscent (and reverent) of past club smashes without sounding copycat, ironic or retro. Even through her appealing emotive-glam voice, “I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her,” is a fairly typical heartbroken dancefloor grief, but thanks to swamp bass waxed to a brilliant sheen and the muffled jackhammer synth hook, you’re dancing when it comes on—even if you’re all alone.
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19. Scarecrows on a Killer Slant
by Liars
from Sisterworld
[Alternative / Rock]
Is this the lukewarm sign of fitting in? Can anyone really denounce Liars for making their most song-oriented album since, well, their last one that hinted in this direction? Not when you devise a rock song so grimy and bleak that it can actually steal away your breath. Like Grinderman a few spots above, its homicidal rampage bargained by ominous commentary makes it caustic but utterly absorbing—not content to merely wallow in abrasion, it has an artful, accusatory purpose. Broiling riffs, a storm of bees wreaking havoc, and an obstinate backbeat played with thunderous impact; add the morbid, frightening intensity of the singer’s observations, and you wind up with perhaps the most unforgettable hard rock song of the year. I don’t think if I ever witnessed a murder I’d be compelled to write a song about it, but I’m not Angus Andrew. “We should take the cretins out at night/Drag 'em incomplete by their ears/We should nail their thoughts to the wall/Stand them in the street with a gun/And then kill them all!” Chilling…and, yes, furiously catchy.
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18. Faster / Locked Inside
by Janelle Monáe
from The ArchAndroid (Suites II and III)
[R&B]
If half its songs were half as good as this pairing, The ArchAndroid would have been considerably closer to the masterpiece status many were quick to exclaim back in May. Revelatory but deeply flawed, The ArchAndroid announced the promising young talent that is Janelle Monáe; the debut missed the conceptual mark but worked splendidly as a rendering of her strengths (infectious, nubile funk-pop) and weaknesses (slow, sinuous ballads and superfluous interludes). No surprise, then, that the first half was stronger, featuring fan favorite singles like “Tightrope” and “Cold War” along with Saul Williams’ guest appearance on “Dance or Die.” That one leads directly into “Faster,” an energetic, genre-defying rump-shaker that roils and bristles with anxiety that then pours straight into the mid-tempo soul swinger “Locked Inside,” asserting an entirely different type of desperation. For all the easy Prince comparisons (the album even has a Sign ‘☮’ the Times ambition to it), these two actually echo closer to Michael Jackson's m.o., particualrly in the latter's drum roll—either way, not bad company to be in.
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17. Bloodbuzz Ohio
by the National
from High Violet
[Rock]
The National have long been a fairly solid (if still egregiously overpraised) rock band that had a tendency to drag when, against instincts, I wanted them to soar. The world probably doesn’t need another U2-type band, but all of the gloomy moodiness can get tiresome after a while—especially since they didn’t have Robert Smith’s surefire penchant for pop hooks. Near the center of High Violet, the latest (solid if overpraised) National LP, is proof that the potential lurks underneath the drama—“Bloodbuzz Ohio.” It’s a rumbling but severely catchy, almost anthemic, rocker with a knack for pulling and pushing, undercurrents followed by upsurges, all briskly bubbling in a stormy but hook-heavy stew. Matt Berninger’s baritone seems to drop another octave here, issuing an extra helping of smoky asceticism—all the better to serve up peculiarly morose lines like, “I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees” and “I’ll rest my eyes to the rivers in the sea.” All of the band’s inscrutable gloom needs to go somewhere, but while I quickly tire of their lukewarm smoldering stews, the understated earworms of “Bloodbuzz” translates it into something memorably potent.
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16. Power
by Kanye West [feat. Dwele]
from My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
[Hip Hop]
Nowadays, the only reason why I would ever tune in to Saturday Night Live is for the occasionally intriguing musical guests; too bad that most of them suffer through muddy acoustics and a cramped, unflattering stage. But not self-absorbed showman Kanye West, who performed “Power” in a field of blinding white, with ballerina-models rotating poses on all sides, wearing a golden laurel wreath like he was Caesar reborn (too bad he changed the verse that declared, “F-ck SNL and the whole cast”). Of course, compared to the wreathed crown, humility would be an even more ludicrous thing for this man to don, and “Power” is a maze of narcissism and contradictions—crowing one minute and fostering suicide fantasies the next. So while we believe he’s moderately sincere when he announces that, “no one man should have all that power,” he’s more believable when he declares that he’s “the abomination of Obama’s nation” and he embodies “every characteristic of the egotistic.” Also believable is when he claims to be “f-ckin’ gifted,” but let’s not feed his pride; hungry as it is, someone’s gonna lose a finger.
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15. Ready to Start
by the Arcade Fire
from The Suburbs
[Rock]
After the fact, I thought myself somewhat hypocritical to scold those who dismissed Neon Bible for its lack of swelling, cathartic, arena-friendly rockers while freely confessing that my two favorite songs from the album were “The Well and Lighthouse” and “No Cars Go”…a pair of, erm, swelling, cathartic, arena-friendly rockers. So you can imagine how conflicted I then felt for (gently) scolding The Suburbs for featuring only a handful of unforgettable tunes. But when Win Butler’s indistinct melodrama starts wearing a little thin, it’s the surfeit of sticky hooks that overcomes those dips—lacking the magnitude, the hour-long LP has unmistakable dry spells. The most memorable song on the album was “Sprawl II” (for reasons already stated earlier on the list); the most anthemic was “Ready to Start.” With its urgent, galloping beat and tightly-coiled guitar riffs, the song charges ahead with the sort of flight anxiety that usually erupts best out of Jersey. Butler is so desperate to get out of there that he’s willing to take a chance with a girl who doesn’t share his heartache (“And if I was yours, but I’m not”). Though to be fair, I’d probably be willing to cling to pipe dreams if it got me out of Texas, too.
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14. Miami
by Foals
from Total Life Forever
[Alternative / Pop]
Once described as post-rock (still one of the most perplexing of all mainstream genre terms), Foals joined ranks with Stereolab this year as being a “post-rock” ensemble with better pop chops than 95% of the straight acts out there. “Miami” is watery funk pop, as soothing as it is excitable, with loose, burbling rhythms that could sound at home just as easily on island beaches or jungle villages. But instead of waxing those beats into restless loops that seem to spiral into fragments before reforming like you’d hear from recent Animal Collective or High Places, this five-piece slots it into finessed verse/chorus structure. Add Yannis Philippakis’ ghostly falsetto and Luke Smith’s crisp production emphasizing its tropical warmth and you’ve got one of the year’s most infectious winners. Settling somewhere between the abstract and the accessible might alienate parties from both extreme camps, but more likely, serves as a navigator between for those not reticent.
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13. Thieves in the Night
by Hot Chip
from One Life Stand
[Electronic / Pop]
Hot Chip’s One Life Stand was another of this year’s “disappointing” LPs, but still had several individual winners that, when pieced out and framed, almost made you forget how sluggish and lukewarm other offerings were. These included the title track, the comparably muscular “Hand Me Down Your Love,” the peculiarly maligned “Brothers” (even by the album’s numerous ardent defenders), and, especially, opener “Thieves in the Night.”
Since their electro-pop tends to be bubbly instead of bristly, the chipper beats and fizzy synth lines played to their strengths, but there was just enough force in its airy construct to keep from submerging into the quivering pulp—even a wiry guitar riff during the bridge. They may never be a great lyrical outfit (“A want is a lack but also desire/A need can be nothing but should be held higher"), but when they put Alexis Taylor’s almost frighteningly fey voice to good use—typically over a snappy beat and roughhouse percolation—it doesn’t much matter. With this album leadoff, heavenly headphone pop collides again and again with day-glo dance, dodging and scissoring through the sparkling backdrop. It runs more than six minutes but feels a fraction as long as the disc’s aptly-named “Slush.”
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12. On Melancholy Hill
by Gorillaz
from Plastic Beach
[Alternative / Pop]
Plastic Beach may very well be the most consistent record that Damon Albarn has ever “starred” in; consistent sonically and quality-wise. It still has numerous stylistic diversions and the usual standouts and slow spots, but everything feels part of a singular piece instead of the usual collection of radically shifting pop songs (and not just because of its loose album concept). With very little true hip hop to be found on the album, it’s also the closest that Gorillaz has sounded like Blur (both an acclimation and drawback), and “On Melancholy Hill” fits the mold perfectly. Pitched between Albarn’s gift for eerily beautiful psych-pop drifts and wriggling, hook-heavy enchantments, he sounds wistful if not downright depressed over the cheery notes that play out one of the album’s most irresistible hooks. “Up on Melancholy Hill,” he mourns, “Sits a manatee…just looking out for the day…when you’re close to me.” It couldn’t have possibly been easy for him to pull off simultaneous references to romantic longing and ecological tragedy, but it also isn’t easy to realize how brilliant this tune is. Back in April, I suggested that there wasn’t a “Clint Eastwood” or “Feel Good Inc.” on this album; after absorption, I stand by that—this one might even be better.
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11. Glitter
by No Age
from Everything in Between
[Alternative / Rock]
“Glitter” in No Age’s hands might sparkle in the light, but up close, you can see it’s actually bits of crusty shrapnel, and if you drag your skin against it, you’ll need an immediate tetanus shot. But this isn’t another of those occasions where a band takes a bouncy tune and then Jesus-and-Mary-Chains the f-ck out of it; “Glitter” is actually a bonafide pop song, with the expected scruffiness, but you might as well be describing a puppy in those terms because it’s still adorable.
But don’t be frightened. The guitar squalls are still tuned to Thurston Moore’s favorite spot, and despite the flutter of the countermelody, the bottom of the fuzz is ornery. Earnest and youthful (but not specifically adolescent), drummer/singer Dean Spunt wisely lays out, “Everyone is out to get you again/But I want you back underneath my skin,” with neither whine nor ache. And without a clearly defined chord progression for the riff, it all sort of feels unwound and reckless, a grumbling haze amidst the optimistic beat. Pete was spot on—I guess the kids really are all right.
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10. Giving Up the Gun
by Vampire Weekend
from Contra
[Alternative]
Bafflingly, Vampire Weekend has become the Family Guy of musical acts—either someone really likes them or really despises them, and everyone has an opinion. The perceived elitism is ridiculous, their appearance as well-groomed preppy types upsets the awkward notion of rock n’ roll status quo, and the fact that their even keel harmonics are so casually denounced as posh and passive resorts to the very “elitism” the hecklers decry.
Well, it doesn’t help matters that the music video for the gracefully complex and hugely melodic “Giving Up the Gun” features characters playing tennis. Nor does it help that instead of cowing to the critics, Ezra Koenig and company embrace their outsider/insider status, and respond with incisive clarity: “I heard you play guitar down at a seedy bar where skinheads used to fight…your garbage style used to save the night…but in the years that passed since I saw you last, you haven’t moved an inch.” A curt dismissal wouldn’t suffice where an eloquent one would; the tennis ball’s in your court, skeptics.
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9. Zebra
by Beach House
from Teen Dream
[Alternative / Pop]
If by some miracle, Beach House had managed to keep going at the same heights of the first four songs on Teen Dream, they would have had not just an album of the year contender but an album of the entire dream pop-style contender. Lacking that early magnitude all the way through is a minor misstep, especially when returning to the beginning over and over again to be greeted by “Zebra,” which immediately signals a deeper, more purposeful sound for the still-young band. Better hooks, more churning in their slumbering blurs, greater emphasis on melodic sweep, the recession of reverb—all of these choices magnify their gifts while adding diversity. A flawlessly constructed song; with the gradual inclusion of yearning and force, Beach House’s glistening dream spells are beginning to take impressive shape.
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8. One Touch
by LCD Soundsystem
from This Is Happening
[Electronic]
I won’t lie and pretend that I wasn’t consumed with the anticipatory hope that James Murphy would be able to craft another insanely catchy but also intensely heartfelt opus in the same vein as “All My Friends” and “Someone Great” from Sound of Silver, but the closest he managed was the more solitary and narcissistic excellence of “I Can Change” and the “Heroes” rewrite of “All I Want.” So the best song off of This Is Happening had little depth but endless appeal to body music fanatics—“One Touch,” an epic dance club jam that sounds built for the hot new “dance of the week” and endless DJ remixes, but is too whip-smart for such petty diversions.
Murphy comes across as a discotheque messiah, preaching from a neon-glazed art nouveau pulpit suspended uver the shade-and-capped DJ. He did not come for parables or praise, to teach or to enlighten—just to instruct from on high. No one wants to hear him command us to to dance, though; the guitar-like scratches, churning beats, whistle chimes, and squeaking jabs do that for us. He’s telling us the great truth between partners in a relationship (romantic, sexual, illusory or committed): “One touch is never enough.” Based on the teeming masses gyrating below, his directions to touch again and again are being heeded.
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7. All to All
by Broken Social Scene
from Forgiveness Rock Record
[Alternative / Rock]
Because they’re so damn good at it, I sometimes celebrate Broken Social Scene’s knack for winding, excitable guitar jams and frantic rhythm exercises too easily, all chockfull of jagged, dodgy hooks, anthemic crescendos, and crashing breakdowns. This makes me forget another critical facet of their seemingly effortless abilities—crafting finely-tuned and severely catchy bedroom pop.
As if they didn’t already have enough fine female vocalists on their large roster to choose from, current touring frontwoman Lisa Lobsinger takes the reins on “All to All,” aching tactfully over rippling guitar figures and subtle bass texture. Her words are puzzling but memorable—“Call of forgiveness/I’m like the clean in the dirt/I’m not the only one/You tried to crave when you fell out.” And when the slumbering beast awakens, the steam train whistles urgently but Lobsinger’s register hardly reacts, just swimming upstream with unfussy earnestness. A remarkably beautiful song from a collective that makes the busy and complex sound perfectly manageable. Note: A series of remixes for “All to All” was prepped earlier this year (most can be heard and downloaded here) but nothing will top the slow-waking brilliance of the original.
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6. Desire Lines
by Deerhunter
from Halcyon Digest
[Alternative / Rock]
Although Bradford Cox’s lyricism climbed another notch with his latest effort, the overall quality of songwriting seemed to favor the creation of “spells” more than real “songs.” So it’s quite a turnaround then when “Desire Lines” washes in since it’s not far removed from Deerhunter’s previous best song, “Nothing Ever Happened,” but the attention to pop hooks cuts even deeper. Even a bigger turnaround is that this one more or less belongs to guitarist Lockett Pundt, not just for his contributions to the writing and singing, but the extended guitar-flickered coda, which echoes not only of the denouement of the aforementioned “Nothing,” but also of Tom Verlaine’s famed guitar exercises more than thirty years ago. But this is a fully-realized song; without the completely engaging draw of the refrain melody it would have been at service of “exercise” only. So when Pundt hums, “Walking free, whoa oh oh…come with me, whoa oh oh…far away, whoa oh oh…every day, whoa oh oh…” I can only declare that I’m throwing on my coat, ready to go.
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5. Not in Love
by Crystal Castles [feat. Robert Smith]
from the Not in Love single
[Electronic / Rock]
With their video game sounds, abrasive volume and cheerfully antagonistic skill with shrieking beats, Crystal Castles had primarily become associated with violent glitch and weird pop. Any accusations of succumbing to mainstream pressure with songs like “Celestica” or their cover of the semi-obscure 80s song “Not in Love” are bitten by the teeth of its assurance, though—never this skillful or streamlined, but they always had pop chops even when they were trying to prove they weren’t a pop band. When spruced up for the single release, the latter became this year’s “Blind”—a rousing, immaculate electro-pop melody braced by adroit flanges of loud, dense noise, supplanted (or even outright stolen) by a guest vocalist with richly emotive pipes. Taking over the Antony Hegarty role is Robert Smith, last seen spending the last decade and a half pounding out passable lovesick rock from the venerable Cure franchise. To call it a return to form isn’t accurate, but declaring that it’s the best thing with his vocals attached since the Crow soundtrack dropped is. Whatever you happen to be doing while it’s playing, you can’t keep focus when the chorus comes roaring in like a flash flood storm (MGMT, are you listening?); quite honestly, there might not have been a more fantastic refrain all year.
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4. I L U
by School of Seven Bells
from Disconnect in Desire
[Alternative / Pop]
Like Abe Vigoda, I wish that School of Seven Bells had kept exploring their infatuations with world music (in SVIIB’s case, Indo-krautrock and Eastern melodies) instead of polishing themselves to a more familiar sound, but if all of them had been as perfect as “I L U,” I wouldn’t have hesitated in heralding the greater nationalistic spirit. This was, quite simply, the year’s most luxuriantly gorgeous song, the sort of warm but melancholy dream pop that can accurately be described in “sigh-worthy” terms (and, yes, a dense, spectral sigh is used as a chorus hook).
Characteristically, SVIIB’s lyrics are mysterious (if not outright inscrutable), as much so as the otherworldly fog created by the Deheza sisters’ twin vocals. But “I L U” hides nothing to imprecision. “I didn’t realize I’d lost so many nights just trying to lose the pain,” and, “It’s hard to breathe ‘cause all I feel when I do is this aching heart,” could be plugged into almost any other pop song and you’d hear the creaks before the syllables could even form. But from those lips, over that gently insistent melody reaching through the hazy glow, it emerges just short of rapturously devastating—ponderous atmosphere matching the majestic tones. And then the straightforward skeleton and soul of the refrain: “I want you…to know that…I loved you.” It stirs different memories and emotions in each and every listener.
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3. Round and Round
from Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti
from Before Today
[Alternative / Pop]
Perhaps the year’s biggest diamond in the rough, “Round and Round” was initially elusive but sticky—I couldn’t figure out why it made such a lasting impression, but it rattled in my brain constantly, even after listening to entire albums of material from other artists. A na-na-na intro, a Spandau Ballet-esque side quest, answering a ringing phone, actually murmuring “breakdown” during the breakdown—what doesn’t this song have? What it does have is at least three incredibly memorable bite-sized passages that gloss over the brain before sticking like it was fly paper. Ticky tack beat goes tock tock, an unforgettable bassline that’s hardly even noticed with all the sprinkles dusted over it, a notch between two segments only barely noticeable, lyrics that reference merry-go-rounds and air guitars; it’s full of ludicrous turnarounds that succeed again and again. With “Round and Round” I thought I had found a secret treasure, one that few would notice and even fewer would realize how brilliantly it was executed. But nothing is a secret with the Internet Age fully upon us; I might be sour to not feel so special months later, but it’s a nice little thrill to see so many others seeking it out and finding plenty to cherish.
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2. Sea Talk
by Zola Jesus
from Valusia EP
[Electronic / Rock]
“Sea Talk” began life in 2009 on Zola Jesus’ Tsar Bomba EP as a semi-industrial lo-fi burner, crackling constantly with audio distortion and abrasive skulking. A strong effort, to be sure, but certainly polarizing, too, and it was clearly a masterpiece in chrysalis. Most notable in its splintered sound is how the opera-trained chanteuse was wasting an opportunity to really show off the power of her voice. That was rectified this last year on the Valusia EP, and the hidden potential proved even greater than anyone could have surmised. Reminiscent of the gothic grandeur and soaring melodrama from the likes of Kate Bush, Siouxsie Sioux, and Shara Worden, Nika Rosa Danilova commands your attention absolutely; it seems impossible for me to listen without imagining her black-clad figure standing alone in a blinding spotlight while the surround is engulfed by impenetrable shadow. Where once rankled and grinding, she now sounds glossy and stunningly majestic, and after bemoaning that, “You are no angel because I can't give you what you need…all by myself,” she suddenly stiffens to blast, “Do you want to go? Do you really know? I don't ever stay awake for you." Suddenly you understand a little better why so many are so easily consumed by shamefaced, treacly power anthems. But give them this one to chew on instead.
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1. Odessa
by Caribou
from Swim
[Electronic]
It’s a little depressing that the classic style has given way to patchworks, sequences and processes, but creativity can’t be limited by technique. I’m not oblivious to the tragedy that so few of the basic rock combos deliver unparalleled successes these days; instead, we usually have to rely on machines, samples and loops to devastate the brain functions. Who’s got time to devote themselves so ruthlessly to down-and-dirty guitars, drums and bass when tracks like “Odessa” are out there?
I thought I knew what to expect from Dan Snaith, mathematician-slash-composer better known by his stage name Caribou. Even as someone who appreciated Andorra more than most, I thought I knew what he was trying to do. But there I go with my limitations again. As timid and cornered as his voice sounds throughout the song (fitting since it’s about an abused and neglected woman), the complex sounds on display are anything but—phase shifts galore, hungry breaths, squeaking spikes, nicked guitar scrabbles, polyrhythmic jungle beats, sticky piano, jangling tambo, triangle strikes, bubbling and digging restlessly for supremacy. It ought to be all over the place, an insane conflagration of too much too quickly, but instead it’s all piled up with careful precision—no matter the additions or recessions, the rhythm is all a restless loop, fighting for the freedom that Snaith’s central character demands. “Odessa” doesn’t get it (pop songs never do), no matter how many times I play it over and over. Please let it never change.
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(#100 - 81)
(#80 - 61)
(#60 - 41)
(#40 - 21)
