Listing the best albums released in a given year can't encapsulate the wonderful variety of music circulating the globe and Internets. Listing the best 100 songs by order of preference runs into context problems - hopping from Burial to Bonnie 'Prince' Billy to Body Parts is inadvisable. In an attempt to solve this miniscule problem, this writer has taken to creating annual mixtapes. The tradition, which began with a few dozen songs, has grown in quality and quantity over the years (now requiring 7 CDs worth of songs). Every sound, noise, or hiccup from 2013 may not be on these discs, but here's to hoping that it captures the best of the Year of Our Lord 2013.
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What a year, what a year. The world kept acting like Jay-Z and Beyonce's fecal matter doesn't stink, drugs taught us to love again, and blogs kept printing unsubstantiated Yeezus rumors. In the midst of these occurrences, there were a number of excellent EPs, albums, and singles that dropped suddenly, had lengthy rollouts, or were mentioned in ignored press releases. There's not much of a unifying thread that binds the best of 2013 together, except perhaps for a refusal to stick to a single type of music. I'll refrain from making a general statement about cultural convergence and the music world being flat, but - with the exception of Pusha T - these artists transcended genre labels. While Acid Rap might be categorized as a hip-hop album, there's more to it than just rap. Dream River is a great blend of country, folk, and Bill Callahan's almost-spoken singing. Yeezus is..... Yeezus. These albums achieved a perfect balance between playing to the artists' strengths and drowning in the experimental deep end. So, after sifting through major releases, independent albums, and 1/1,000,000,000,000th of the material up on Bandcamp, this site puts forth the following recommendations for the best albums of the year MMXIII.
Listening Priority: High
I typically ignore box sets of VINTAGE, RARE & UNRELEASED material from the vaults. They usually end up being 1. a set of inferior alternate takes that only diehard fans could value or 2. a disappointing set of songs that suggests a classic album's track listing is the ultimate version of that era's tunes*. Bob Dylan's Bootleg Tapes series are the rare exception. His 50 year career - in which he's explored every type of American music** - has yielded a seemingly infinite supply of originals, covers, and collaborations. Filled with alternate versions and demos, the best of them simultaneously appeal to Dylan completists and casual listeners. His latest offering in the series, Another Self Portrait (The Bootleg Series Vol. 10), delves into the era surrounding Self Portrait and New Morning. During that period, he excavated tunes both domestic ("House Carpenter," "Pretty Saro") and international ("Tattle O'Day"), putting his unique spin on them in the process. The melodies he arranged or interpreted in these songs are some of the best of his career and - while Dylanologists might or might not appreciate his smoother voice (sometimes reaching the silky levels of Nashville Skyline) - his vocal range at the time provided a unique opportunity to take on such melodies. Indeed, the singing (whether solo or harmonizing) is what most sticks out about this selection of songs. The more minimal (compared to the album versions) production allows a special emphasis to be placed on the voices and lyrics, making them essential pieces of Dylan's discography rather than the "shit" that Greil Marcus initially took them to be (his evaluation of this new compilation offers a much more gracious assessment). These alternate versions and demos also showcase a spirit or emotion that the album versions lacked. We find an amazingly tender version of "If Not For You," a nervously energetic return to "Highway 61 Revisited," and two versions of "Went to See the Gypsy" (one rambling, one sharp). "New Morning" is much more triumphant with horns, the first alternate take of "Time Passes Slowly" suggests the lazy days of the song's title, and the closing "When I Paint My Masterpiece" demo is sharp enough to capture the humor and beauty of the song. These repetitions are excellent in their own right, but they also provide the dedicated Dylan fan with further insight into his songs (or maybe just further confuse and mesmerize the listener). Not every one of the 35 songs is absolutely essential, but the curation of Another Self Portrait is strong enough to make it both an oddball anthology of folk music and another successful foray into Dylan's back pages. Listening Priority: High
Every hip-hop fan claims to be after something super lyrical. This usually translates to increasing the syllable-to-bar ratio and having some fun with double entendre, but what happens when a rapper actually delivers lyrical dynamite? And what if they do it in a way that puts lyrics ahead of delivery, flow, and beats? Ka's recent albums offers the perfect test case. The Night's Gambit's lyrics contain hot lines ("We ain't speak, clicking heat is our Morse code,"), a unique set of ideas and references, a mix of personal and larger struggles, and wordplay that goes beyond simple jokes. "Our Father" has Ka on a warpath, with a vengeful hook ("Our Father who art in heaven / Hollows hit my man, they sparked my brethren / Hurting so I'm certain won't be good today / All I ask Lord, is Lord look away") and an uncertainty about whether he wants divine absolution, ignorance, or intervention. In "Jungle," he sees himself as part of the human "team that never left the scene, apparently arrogant from battling the Nephilim" and notes that he "should've studied I Self Lord and Master." Ka's framing his struggles in religious terms and theological questions make for fascinating lyrics and transcend the usual gangster invocation of higher powers. Then there's the influence of the culture. On the excellent album closer, "Off the Record," Ka catalogs moments of his life phrased in classic hip-hop album terms ("my strong plea all eyes on me, this is precious / 'fore things fall apart, I pray your heart get the message") and then finishes by rapping "I was donned with the baggage / All these psalms calmed my savage / How I live was often hectic / All this is off the record." It's both a clever bit of wordplay and a great piece on the constant intersections of life and art. Ka's delivery and flow seems almost deliberately understated in a climate where the up-and-comers (Danny Brown, Chance the Rapper, Kendrick Lamar) have flashy vocal styles and adlibs. But if Ka's vocals are less accessibly showy or emotional, they're also imbued with a gravity that lends his lyrics an air of authenticity. Kanye recently kept emphasizing Yeezus's "minimalism," but it's got nothing on the Night's Gambit beats. "Peace Akhi" is little more than percussion punctuated by single piano keys. The pulsing synths and drums of "Knighthood" make it sound like an updated Liquid Swords beat. Ka's music is frequently praised as being a throwback to the 90s, but while it's as rough as early RZA-influenced sounds, it's also more subtle. Ka's beats sound like there's a live band playing them while the Wu-Tang beats sound much more like chopped samples. This isn't to say that one is better than the other - I love the way that the Wu production knocks - but it's important to differentiate and see that Ka is forging his own path. The intensity contained within this album means that it's not necessarily an album that finds itself being constantly played, but if blesses inquiring listeners with real knowledge. Listening Priority: High
Mix the spontaneous stylings of Avey Tare, the freaky folk of a young Beck, and the wit and attention to detail of The Mountain Goats' John Darnielle and what do you get? If you'll forgive the cheap comparisons, a spiky artist known as John Thill. Thill's canvas is the cassette, his brush an acoustic guitar, his palette searing vocals, and his subject the Californian locales and citizens that aren't usually immortalized in songs. Thill's tools are certainly ragtag but they're never limiting. He's free to write spur-of-the-moment lyrics to tunes that could care less about what you think (yet manage to be memorable). In a world where guyswithguitars/"singer-songwriters" have somehow become lyrically boring and overproduced, Thill's music reminds us of the possibilities of the format. The jokingly titled compilation throws together love songs ("This Bed is Not a Bed," "Love DUI"), driving tunes ("We Smoked Speed," "Farewell Pomona"), odes to certain kinds of SoCal gals ("Las Lonely Girls," "Rich Girlfriend"), sketches ("The Eclipse"), and doodles ("What is Los Angeles?"). Many of these are populated with left turns or a suddenly screamed chorus that will jolt you out of any apathy toward the music. This definitely isn't for everyone, but 1. even those who don't enjoy his music would probably politely admit that Thill is never boring and 2. Volume II serves as a fine introduction to the sprawling discography of this California troubadour. Listening Priority: High
While (No) Malice spent early 2011 promoting his memoir Wretched, Pitiful, Poor, Blind, and Naked and emphasizing his newfound faith, his brother and Clipse partner Pusha T dropped Fear of God, an unremarkable mixtape save for the Hitboy-produced "My God." On that song, Push clues us in (in case we hadn't been listening ) to who his god is: Mammon. Rappers inflate their drug tales or reflect sorrowfully on them, but few take as much joy in the act of slangin' than King Push. It may put associates behind bars or family members into rehab, but - where Malice recognized the error of his ways - Pusha laughs it off. He takes joy in not just lining his own pockets, but also acting as a corrupting influence ("they say I'm on the verge of winning / I claim victory when Malice is on the verge of sinning"). At a time when some of rap has shifted toward introspection, Pusha's attitude might seem regressive, but it's also incredibly refreshing to hear a rapper who relishes playing the villain. Where Pusha was usually a private to No Malice or Kanye West's captain, My Name is My Name lets him pull a Kelly's Heroes, as he goes AWOL over a variety of beats with an all-star cast to establish his name as a solo artist. Malice was always my favorite writer of the two, but Pusha T has upped his lyrical levels. He throws out humorously honest lines ("Always knew I could rule the world / Let's define what my world is / knee deep in this dope money / damn near where my world ends") and great images ("20 plus years of selling Johnson & Johnson," "gunshots in the dark like a sweet serenade"). Pusha also gets deeper into storytelling (see: "S.N.I.T.C.H.") and crafts multi-layered lyrics ("I wanted mine purer / Aryan blonde hair, blue-eyed like the Fuhrer"). His wild references, from his Ric Flair "WOO" to his use of Doctor Zhivago, Rocky IV, and Boyz N' the Hood within the space of three lines , sets him somewhat apart from other rappers (although he does namecheck familiar upscale brands). Beat wise, the album is broken down into: crossover attempts with stars who are past their expiration date ("Sweet Serenade," "No Regrets," "Let Me Love You"), two very different Pharrell beats ("Suicide," "S.N.I.T.C.H."), what seems like a Magna Carta Holy Grail leftover ("40 Acres"), and GOOD joints that sound recycled from the Cruel Summer/Yeezus sessions ("King Push," "Numbers on the Boards," "Hold On," "Who I Am," "Nosetalgia," "Pain"). With Pusha's relatively rough flow and lyrical content, the dark, jagged beats in the final category fit the best, but he manages to sound solid over every beat here. It seems as though, after the semi-awkward Fear of God material, Pusha's raps became as confident as his lyrics and he gained the ability to flow over anything *. The features generally serve the songs well: Future drops a nice hook on "Pain," 2Chainz does what he does best** on "Who I Am," Chris Brown haunts "Sweet Serenade," and Rick Ross delivers a shockingly solid verse on "Hold On." Big Sean takes a huge bellyflop on "Who I Am" ("I'm feeling like a grown ass lil' boy, cause I still love to get pampered"), but that's expected from him and fortunately it comes at the end of the song, so you can just skip it or get on that Audacity tip. And of course, Kendrick Lamar lyrically and flowically murders the second half of "Nosetalgia," telling a multi-generational rap game/crack game story in which even a small phrase like "your son dope" has multiple meanings. Despite the brief renegade from K. Dot (who seems to kill everyone these days), Pusha T proves himself to be a star who can carry an album without Malice or Kanye. Limited in scope but executed beautifully , My Name is My Name continues the Clipse legacy while exploring some new sonic territory. Listening Priority: High
It's fascinating to see the products of artistic intersections. Sometimes it's just a blog-buzz-baiting move, but other times it's something more. Volcano Choir, a collaboration Collections of Colonies of Bees'/All Tiny Creatures' members and Bon Iver's Justin Vernon, falls squarely in the second category. All Tiny Creatures and Bon Iver are groups whose music I find enjoyable, but - with Bon Iver's deeply personal/possibly nonsensical/opaque lyricism and All Tiny Creatures' tendency to get a little too lost in spacey jams - I can't claim to love them. After their first album, Unmap, allowed the group plenty of room to experiment and go off the rails, Repave finds them focusing their energies and creating dense but catchy songs. The album's A-side sees them rocking out a bit, putting voices together in a way that lives up to the band's name, before ending with the "Byegone" hook of "Set sail." The album's B-side does just that, letting Justin Vernon's voice roam along constantly shifting seas before pulling it all back together with the finale of "Almanac." The instrumentation works wonderfully - giving the interesting All Tiny Creatures tones direction and giving the Bon Iver sound a bit more of an edge - while Vernon also has the opportunity to use his voice as well as Kanye has used it in the past (No offense to previous Volcano Choir and Bon Iver efforts, but the usage of Vernon's voice on tracks like "That's My Bitch," "I'm In It," and "Hold My Liquor" takes his vocals to another level). On a lyrical level, Repave is full of the lyrics that are either brilliant poetry or meaningless space-fillers, but it's got hot lines that grab listeners' attention ("I won't beg for you on acetate / I won't crawl on you to validate," "With enough keif / You can really bore someone," "We were gonna hit every mark in stark / But that sutra didn't suit you that long day in the park") while they sort out the rest of the lyrics' phrasing and meaning. Repave, full of great sounds and lyrics that require deeper consideration, is an excellent album from a band that promises further evolution. Listening Priority: High
I feel like this every time one of their albums is released, but it's ludicrous how many excellent albums Yo La Tengo's discography contains. They definitely have their own distinct sound, but they don't refrain from experimenting and playing around with different musical ideas. While their previous albums seemed to split between classic pop/soul tracks ("Mr. Tough," "Beanbag Chair," "If It's True"), whispered jams ("Song for Mahila," "Avalon or Someone Very Similar,"), and longer, more free form material ("Pass the Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind," "And the Glitter is Gone"), Fade distills multiple aspects of Yo La Tengo into single songs. This convergence means less 10+ minute escapades, but it also makes for a very listenable album that doesn't compromise the complexities of the Yo La Tengo sound. The songs that they create have little lighthouse hooks that provide listeners with a guide through their foggy and melancholy soundscapes. The album never explodes as some of their previous ones did, but sustains a mellow, cohesive feel while tackling some heavy lyrical material. "Sometimes the bad guys come out on top / Sometimes the good guys lose / We try not to lose our hearts, not to lose our minds," the album quietly begins. "I know it's hard, believing in all of this / And then we run, running away from the end," Georgia Hubley sings in the final song, against a background of horns and strings that threaten to overwhelm her. Her husband, Ira Kaplan, joins her for the album's final verse: "Take me to the place, the lonely place / Take me out beyond the stress / Speak to me words we can't erase / Take me there, it's only us." Fade - which was apparently recorded after a health crisis for Kaplan - recognizes the scary, uncontrollable forces of the universe, but also finds some solace in human connection. Yo La Tengo is the rare band that releases an excellent album thirty years into their existence, delivering catchy songs while finding new ways to revise their sound. Listening Priority: Medium, but definitely pick up the key tracks.
I typically think of Will (Bonnie 'Prince' Billy) Oldham as a catalog artist rather than an album artist. Perhaps that's not paying proper respect to the album, but with an artist as prolific as Oldham - who seems to release an album (plus assorted singles and collaborations) per year, it's sometimes difficult to keep track by albums. So, what does What the Brothers Sang, a collection of songs sung by the Everly Brothers contribute to Oldham's sizable discography? It adds some find country-folk duets that surprise in their structure and arrangement. There are some more straightforward tunes ("Somebody Help Me," "What Am I Living For"), but for the most part the Brothers' songs work in mysterious ways. Just when you think you know how the next bit of melody will sound, the song takes a different direction. You think you've heard all of "Omaha," but then it has a delightfully different ending. Apart from some of the smaller reworkings that Dawn & Billy's gang contribute, the contextualization of these songs as male-female duets provides some excellent moments, as when Oldham sings "I'd like to raise a family" and McCarthy responds with "I'd like to sail away" on "Poems, Prayers, and Promises." Changing it from two brothers to unrelated male-female singers adds to the range of the harmonies and suggests that it could be lovers singing these songs. The lyrics here aren't always subtle or complex, but they sometimes communicate simple truths. "How sweet it is to love someone, how right it is to care," isn't necessarily a novel thought, but when it hits you during "Poems, Prayers, and Promises," it hits hard. The album stays true to Oldham's M.O., dropping several gems into his catalog, while also reminding us of the fun and wisdom contained in what the Brothers sang. Listening Priority: Low
[Imitating Jay-Z beatboxing] Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh Cheeeeeyuh Hold on let me get the inhaler [Chanting] MCHG we running this rap shit Jay-Z we running this rap shit Timbo we running this rap shit JT we run this rap shit Bey we run this rap shit Samsung we running this rap shit (WATCH OUT!! WE RUIN HIP HOP) I know you loving Jay all the (faaaaaaaame) But along with celebrity come some complacency to the (Gaaaaaaaaaaame) "Holy Grail" trying to jack Ye's scene when it sounds B-side Queen Went from God MC to Rakim '03 (oh my god) Fell from reasonably lyrical to "Blueprint 3" And it's still M.C.H. in two thousand one three Matter of fact, anything new about Hov? Oh I know: Red, white, and the new baby Blue But ain't really any new insights from that life Just detailing the duality and all your strife except, you ain't live it it's hard to believe the pain when you got those diamonds from Lorraine and that (sample of Jay-Z saying "Tom Ford") and so the album's just ya own private collection but it needs a little more of that Picasso injection switch up the content of your songs add more creativity and the sense that you belong in a larger community than just the Carter-Knowles and yeah, probably drop that trap drawl Use your (braiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin) You rode the first ten years well, I'll agree - but fuck Since the "Black Album?" Mostly shite like "BBC" You been paying P and Swizz and Timbo too But the shits that they're dropping is mostly doo most were "meh" and the other was "Heaven" So the average is less than one out of eleven. And that's so (laaaaaaaaaaaaaame) Cause normally you at least flow but over these beats you just aren't bringing the heat So no, you ain't Wade or King James You been simplifying lyrics to make a profit from lames. And to all the blogs advertising for Shawn You only get half a bar - fuck y'all Pitchgeons |