First up are the LPs. EPs, tapes and demos will follow in separate posts. It's 11 insteada 10 'cause I got drunk and fucked up the numbers. Whatever, the Broken Water releases this year were ragers, all of 'em!
1. Wonderfuls-Salty Town (self-released)
If you only buy a handful of records
in 2013, this should be one of them. This is the only record I’ve heard this year that gives Kitchen's Floor's Bitter Defeat EP a run for its money. It shares the
same gripping melancholy of that release, but lacks the dynamism that Bitter
Defeat has, by virtue of the organ and drums. On Salty Town, The Wonderfuls are obsessed with capturing the sound of desolation; listening to this album is like staring at an ice pond on an overcast day for an hour, completely alone, only to see the sun suddenly peek out from the clouds. Perhaps this isn’t entirely coincidental-Bobby Bot, aka Robert Vagg, drums in Kitchen's Floor, and he sings in the
Wonderfuls.
The
Wonderfuls debuted in 2011 with a savage piece of noize schlock on Negative Guest List, and
this is a complete 180: instead of Raw
Power on steroids, Salty Town is
six tracks of hushed guitar and vocals, awash in layer upon layer of echoing effects.
The music, care of Bobby’s cousin, Danny McGirr, envelops the vocals like a warm
echo chamber: it sounds like Bobby’s singing in a Gothic cathedral. There’s
nothing else: no further instrumentation, no attempt at mediating between the
listener and Bobby’s tales of childhood nostalgia, adult problems, and efforts
to come to terms with them.
Bobby’s
singing voice is a hollow, flat distillation of raw emotion that may have some
echo in early Death in June, but in a completely different context. He stretches out each word,
almost each syllable, until the vocals match the phrasing and glacial pace of
the music. “Relapse,” as far as I can hear, is a tale of battling one’s demons
and grappling with one’s inability to connect with other people: as the song
closes, he repeats “I…think…they’re…out…there….” insistently, as if he can call
some sort of companionship into being. It’s one of the best songs I’ve heard
all year.
This is extremely bleak, melancholic music-in an intriguing interview, Bobby said that “I think Salty Town is about accepting
that you may not be happy, and that this may be as good as it gets.” Yet, like
the Bitter Defeat EP, my other favorite record of the year, by creating such
a bleak and introspective album, the Wonderfuls are transcending isolation and
anomie. Music doesn’t have to be therapeutic to be good, but most of the best
records are, and Salty Town is
absolutely that. Listen here.
2. Beach House, Bloom (Sub Pop):
"What comes after this/momentary bliss/[is a] consequence/of what you do to me..."-"Myth"
I usually steer clear of what
passes for indie rock these days, but Beach House is an exception. Sneer and
mock all you like, but Beach House is probably the best, and certainly the most
consistent, indie/rock band of the last ten years. What I respect most about
Victoria LeGrand and Alex Scally is their ability to maintain the same ambiance
across four LPs, while changing and developing within that basic framework.
This is not the same thing as making the same album over and over again (like
the Ramones, for example). Rather, Beach House is still working with the same
dynamic that produced 2006’s self-titled debut, while incorporating new
dimensions and, fundamentally, working a lot more space into each new album, even into each song. It’s like living in a house that you
gradually refurbish and personalize over the years: it’s the same structure, completely transformed.
Scally and LeGrand hinted at this
in their May interview with Pitchfork: Scally noted that a lot of people
probably just listen to their sound, instead of their songs. I’m certainly
guilty of this: I heard Devotion
first, loved the self-titled LP but thought I was bored by it, and then, when Bloom dropped, thought it was just a
slicker version of Teen Dream. This
is a result of the sort of superficial listening that has overtaken most of us with
the advent of the internet and all the changes it’s brought to music and its
reception; Legrand cuts to the heart of the matter ten minutes into this interview-cum-live-show.
Bloom
works with the same palette, maybe, as Teen
Dream, but the canvas is much bigger; or maybe it’s the same canvas with an
expanded palette. Whatever, Teen Dream-from
Scally’s vibrant guitar notes at the beginning of “Zebra” to the surprisingly
cheery organ of “Take Care”-was speaking the same language of Devotion and the self-titled LP, but in
another register, another voice. The sadness and graying beauty of the first
two LPs was still there, but a lot of the bitterness of Devotion was gone, replaced with a knowing refusal to wallow in
self-indulgence: when LeGrand sang, in the chorus of “Zebra,” “Don’t I know
you/better than the rest….”, she could be talking to her past self as well as
an ex-lover.
Bloom is delivered in the same voice as Teen Dream, but the breathlessness of
the 2010 LP is mostly gone, in favor of slow-moving songs that unfold at their
own pace. Listening to “Myth,” the opening track and debut single, is like
watching a flower, well, bloom: the more you listen to it, the more details you
spot; as the song progresses, the more texture develops until it sounds like a
full-on orchestral piece at the end. Again, patience and repetition is the key
to appreciating Beach House: I hated this thing when it came out, thinking “Eh,
Beach House has even slicker production so they did a fancier job of making
their first LP again.” This is just the sort of lazy listening that Scally and
LeGrand rightfully denounced in the above-mentioned interview. All music worth
listening to demands something from the listener, and Bloom is no different. Released in May, it’s still surprising me in
December, and I can see myself listening to it for years. How many other bands
or albums can you say that of in this age of instant obsolescence?
I demand that you sit down with this and listen to it
repeatedly. It’s well worth it.
One last note, though: Scally and LeGrand seem like
fundamentally decent people who have kept clear heads despite the whirlwind of
publicity (at least on the indie level) they’ve lived in since “Apple Orchard”
hit on Pitchfork. In interviews they sound intelligent, and I’m guessing
they’re nice to their fans. I’m pretty sure most pop stars aren’t like that. Check it out here.
3. Merchandise-Children of Desire (Katorga Works):
“we’re still young, baby, but we’re getting old..."-“Time”
In 2012, the rest of the world (by which I mean the sort of
people who attend that Pitchfork festival in Chicago, as opposed to those of us
who got into Merchandise ‘cause they come from the hardcore scene )
acknowledged Merchandise’s existence. Honestly, I hope these guys become huge.
God knows that growing up in Tampa counts as serving time off in Purgatory, and
their songs are good enough that they deserve a wider audience than can fit in
your local basement punk venue. It won’t be the same, but whatever: I'd be happy to see Merchandise in Chicago's Metro.
(Strange Songs) In the
Dark grew on me after awhile, but Children
of Desire had me hooked right from the beginning. Chris Cox’s voice is so
impossibly, melodramatically sodden with emotion that I challenge anyone who’s
not dead and who loves rock ‘n’ roll to hate this LP: even if the band sucked,
and they don’t, the singing would be enough to make the LP noteworthy. “Thin
Air,” a synthesizer-and-vox intro, merely warms you up for “Time,” which might
be my favorite song of 2012. The keyboard notes are downright dreamlike as the
song starts, and this slightly surreal feel only grows as the song ends its
beginning and kicks into full gear. A burbling bass line underlies the swirling
synthesizer box and massive guitar leads.
I don’t wanna turn
this writeup into a mush of references to ‘80s bands, but I will say that
Merchandise, based on the core of this album-“Time,” “Become What you Are,” and
“In Nightmare Room”-write some of the best, most heartfelt music I’ve heard in
years. The music soars above the maudlin singing, with Vassoliti’s riffs
creating a cocoon for Cox to gush in; heartbreak hasn’t sounded this wonderful
in quite awhile. Don’t take my word for it; check out the video for “Time” on
Youtube, and fall in love with the song. On
“Become What you are," soft synthesizer fuzz and a drum machine
set up another majestic riff.
Cox’s first verse contains one of the best, and most dismissive, lines I’ve
heard in a long time: “The music started/I realized it was all a lie/the
guitars were ringing out/last year’s punk.” Check it out yourself, dear readers.
“Satellite” and “Roser Park” throw casual listeners for a
loop and, even though “Roser Park” is the weakest track here, the last two songs
show how ambitious Merchandise is. I dunno, I’m sick of talking about these
guys, so just fucking get into ‘em already. Then go hassle Katorga Works to
re-press this LP! Listen to "Time" here.
I guess a lot of people hated this one because it wears its
influences on its sleeves, and is a much more straightforward rock ‘n’ roll
record than Immaculada. If you’re
expecting innovation and new sounds from a rock ‘n’ roll band in 2012, you’re a
moron: any musical genre going on 60 years simply cannot break new ground, in my
opinion. If your band consists of a drummer, guitarist, bassist, and singer,
there’s only so many sounds you can create, and most of them have been done.
Quality rock ‘n’ roll in this day and age consists, as so much of it always
has, in playing it like you mean it, not blazing new trails (listen to Chord if you want that!).
Another
thing I hate about how The Men have been treated in the press/blogosphere/whatever
is that, like Fucked Up, they’ve been hailed by lame cunts such as Pitchfork as
the “saviors of punk” among other horseshit. Any asshole who would write
something like that was never part of the punk scene, and I resent the idea
that punk somehow needs to be “saved.” Us losers are doing just fine, thankyaverymuch.
A lot of my favorite music in 2012 came from Hungary or
Australia, for whatever reason. Most of this music, from both countries, was
rambunctious, fundamentally obnoxious and/or simply nasty noise. Bitch Prefect, on the
other hand, offers twelve songs that remind me of nothing more than Beat
Happening if Calvin Johnson was an Austrlian instead of a hippy.
Bitch Prefect’s songs are so disarmingly direct, it’s
downright offensive. Witness “Bad Decisions”: barely rhythmic drums, a basic
chord change I could probably learn in an hour, and lyrics on the order of
“then I got in a car and went into the city. And I was making bad decisions
every opportunity. Bad decisions, bad life decisions.” Seriously, what’s with
these guys? I dunno, but if you can move past the cotton candy quality of BP,
they really grow on you. This LP works in a very perverse way. You keep waiting
for the hidden brilliance to reveal itself, for some sort of subtlety to emerge
after the Nth listen…but it never does. BP simply makes dirt-simple, clean pop
songs that stick in your head. I keep wanting to hate this band and this LP,
but I instead I just keep listening to it. Over and over again. Hell, if I was
religious and/or dated a religious girl, I’d probably be able to keep listening
to BP. I can’t say that of anything else in my collection except maybe the
Byzantine liturgical chants I spin when I’m really blasted on Xanax. Buy it over here.
6. Grass Widow-Internal Logic (HLR):
All of Grass Widow’s previous releases are solid, but
Internal Logic is their most consistent release so far. Their sound has evolved
considerably since their self-titled debut EP of 2009. What has changed is
their mastery of the complex, interlocking harmonies. The obvious comparison for this band has
always been post-punk pioneers like the Raincoats and Slits, but it doesn’t do
credit to GW to dismiss ‘em as revivalists. This comparison is usually followed
by the obligatory “all-girl group” or “feminist band” blahblahblah, which
really irks me. Why can’t people discuss Grass Widow or other post-punk bands
whose membership happens to be all women without gendering the discussion? It’s
reductive and stupid to assume that GW’s music is somehow determined by their
gender. I’ll conclude by saying that “Internal Logic” is a fun piece of rock
‘n’ roll: come for the surf guitar, stay for the harmonic duets.
I certainly wasn’t expecting a country rock album to rear its mullet-besotted head on this year-end list. The Abigails’ stunning debut wasn’t something you’d expect from Los Angeles: the cheerfully dark atmosphere of these songs places it deep in the desert or high up in the Rocky Mountains. The key to the album is Warren Thomas’ deep-throated croak and the twangy guitars. “Black Hell” gets a lot of mileage out of a basic riff and Thomas’ noirish tale of being stuck in some nameless hellhole of a Texas town….”there’s no comfort in black hell.” Put this on for your next gunfight or lover’s spat. Buy it over here.
White Lung was the only new (i.e., a major album released in 2012) punk band I got excited about this year. In fact, Sorry was the only urgent album
of the year: White Lung plays every song like there’s something their lives depend on it, as if they’re playing because they have to. I’ve been listening to punk
long enough that I hope I know when a band’s faking it, and I think White Lung
is f’real.
Militancy, in the best sense of the
term, spews from every chord. The opener, “Take the Mirror,” was one of the
best rock songs of the year, and White Lung keeps up the same frantic pace
through all ten tracks. “Bag” is a frantic dance number, snazzy enough to get
you moving but it’s over so fast you can barely get on the floor. I don’t know
what White Lung is so freaked out about, but their passion and energy is
infectious. Try listening to “Thick Lips” and not wanna punch someone in the
face. It helps that that “someone” would probably be some chauvinist frat boy. Call
it riot grrrl, call it punk, I don’t give a fuck: White Lung is angry, tuneful,
and passionate, and this fucking shreds. Buy it here.
9. Cavedweller-2016 Pts. II & III (Business Deal):
Michener
specializes in lightly distorted, heavily reverb’d lo-fi blues that I hesitate
to to call country only because that word conjures up images of Garth Brooks in
a lot of peoples’ minds. Yet this is country, in a good sense: music for
driving down a desolate, lonely highway somewhere deep in the American
heartland, with nothing but your memories, heartbreak, and Dead Moon tapes to
keep you company. “Kevin grows Gills,” despite being about that wretched Kevin
Costner flick Water World, hasa ghost town vibe all its own; “Stacy” is a
jangly, bittersweet ode to.
You get the
idea. This is a record for the long morning after New Year’s, when you’re
sitting around your apartment, gutpit depressed, facing another new year with
not a whole lot of options and even less faith in the world around you. Slip it
on and focus on the groove. Michener's such a nice guy, you can download it for free, but really you should buy it!
10. Crooked Bangs-s/t (Western Medical):
I was having an exceptionally shitty day when this thing
landed in my inbox. If memory serves, I had almost gotten hit by a bus on my
way to work, had a panic attack at the archive, lost my cigarettes in the rain,
then some asshole tried to sell me brown “coke” when I was drinkin’ a beer at
the end of the day and wouldn’t leave me alone. This tight, clever, and fucking
bouncy record changed everything. Within five minutes of putting it on, I was
awkwardly dancing around my one-room apartment, guzzling beer cause I wanted to
(instead of from frustration), and was screaming mangled endearments out my
window at passers-by.
The Misfits references are everywhere on this LP, but the
song writing, thick bass, and crisp singing really set Crooked Bangs apart.
CB’s sense of balance is fantastic: the mix mediates the surf guitar, melodically
snarling vocals, tight drums, and infectious bass in a way most punk bands
could only hope to do. “Blood Castle” is a good example: Guitar vamps duel with
a sinuous bass line until the singer almost whispers around the one-minute
mark. The song is a slow burning post-punk dance number firmly anchored on the
“punk” end of that hypen. It’s an important distinction.
This LP is for all you punks who, like me, spend most of
your time bummed out and cranky but still have enough youthful(?) enthusiasm to
get happy just by listening to music. Listen to, then buy LP here.
11. Broken Water-Seaside and Sedmikrasky (Hardly Art):
I’m treating this as an LP, even though it's only two songs: they're both epic, clocking in at plus 10 minutes, and require sustained listening to really get into. Broken Water is better known for its
colossal riffs, snide Sonic Youth-isms, and its genius for channeling 90s
heavyweights like Dinosaur, Jr. and Nirvana without sounding like a copycat
band.
On this, we get a very different side of them, something
approaching post rock. “Seaside” is a slow burning drums-cello-guitar piece
that drifts along for 9 minutes like a leviathan at the bottom of the sea.
Finally background vocals kick in, but they’re completely indecipherable; a
ghost has joined the leviathan. Things falter and almost collapse around 11
minutes; then the cello kicks up a droning, whiney dirge that you expect to
explode. It never does, but “Seaside” is a challenging mood piece that works
(barely). “Daisy Version 2” is slightly shorter. The opening evokes the
Nio-John Cale tune “It was a pleasure then,” but then it breaks down into
stumbling piano and guitar hiss, punctuated by the band members’ laughter. The
piece doesn’t really go anywhere and is a freeform exploration of structureless
composition, in my opinion. Whatever, this EP hints at how ambitious Broken
Water were getting just before they broke up. Bummer. You can buy the LP here.
These should be in the mix somewhere, too....:
Peaking Lights-Lucifer (you should still be able to get this, here.)
Sharpeye-Beyond the Realm of Reason (here).
Opus Null-Alkotmanyos Anarchia-They live over here.
The Dictaphone-Let's Not (lives here ).
Crazy Spirit-s/t (buy it here.)
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