Want to test how good an album really is? Try to
pick a song from it that you'd like to share with your friends, to summarize
why you think the album is awesome. Imagine their reactions—from the
friend who's deeply into Lithuanian death-metal to the friend who unashamedly
loves High School Musical. Does the song make a strong case for itself? Is
it instantly catchy, yet distinctive enough in style and sound that a
first-time listener would understand why you think it's special? Is it
representative of the album it comes from, such that your friends won't feel
ripped off if they buy the whole record based on one great song? I'm not saying
that the mark of good music is that it be broadly accessible, but if you've
gone through an entire album and can't find a single track that's share-worthy,
you should at least ask yourself why you like the album so much.
I can't promise that the 30 songs below all meet
the criteria I just established. Some of these songs are abstract, some noisy,
some openly yearning, and some doggedly retro—all in ways that I can
imagine might be off-putting to people with different tastes than mine. But
taken together, they provide a fairly accurate sketch of what I've found
exciting and promising in the crop of 2008 albums I've been listening to since
October 1—as well as a fair summary of where my head is at when it comes
to contemporary music.
Exclusion from this list is not necessarily an
indicator of disapproval. There are some '08 albums I like a lot that just
don't pass the test I laid out in my opening paragraph, and some good albums by
old favorites who don't resonate as much for me in the context of what's
happening now,
on the cusp of a new year. For that matter, there are songs on this list from
albums about which I have significant qualms, yet I included them anyway
because they're terrific songs, and they represent some of what I'm looking for
in music going forward. Mostly, I tried to come up with a list that contains a
decent mix of genres and moods, though I inevitably fell back on what I enjoy
the most: hooky, guitar-based rock music that respects the past, reaches for
the future, and expresses something personal.
So,
in alphabetical order, and with a reminder that I've only been listening to
this year's music for a couple of months, here are my 30 favorite songs of
2008:
British
Sea Power, "Trip Out"
After all my jabbering about the importance of
strong songwriting, here's a track that would sound pretty pointless if someone
just stood in front of a crowd with an acoustic guitar and plucked it out. Like
most of the songs on Do You Like Rock Music?, "Trip Out" is all about
the happening.
It's a moment in time—an experience—recreated in a studio. "Trip Out"
probably wasn't recorded live, but it has that feeling of personal interaction
between musicians and a crowd, as they goose each other and build anticipation.
Also of particular appeal to me, the drums in this song are practically a lead
instrument, shifting from sudden fills to eruptive rat-a-tat.
Cheap
Time, "Glitter And Gold"
Like Reigning Sound's Too Much Guitar, Cheap Time's self-titled
debut LP cranks up garage-rock and power-pop until the needles threaten to hit
190 degrees. Not all the songs on Cheap Time merit the
push-'til-it-hurts treatment, but the album as a whole is undeniably
exciting—all fuzzed-out, yet easy to howl along with. And when the band
stomps and taunts through "Glitter And Gold," the style fuses triumphantly with
the substance.
Conor
Oberst, "Moab"
I'm still not sure why Oberst decided not to drop
the Bright Eyes name this year, given that his first "solo album" sounds not
terribly different from everything else he's recorded over the past
half-decade. I still like Oberst, but he needs to push himself more, and risk
overreaching—otherwise, he's just a talented troubadour unworthy of
fierce devotion. That said, though Conor Oberst is a spotty record, this
song is one of Oberst's best, a full-bodied West Coast country-rock number with
a catchy chorus that doubles as a plea: "There's nothing that the road cannot
heal."
Constantines,
"Brother Run Them Down"
I've read some grumbling that Constantines' latest
LP, Kensington Heights, is more contemplative and plodding than their previous two
ragers, but while I don't love it as much as I do Tournament Of Hearts or Shine A Light, I can't find much fault
with it, either. And I do appreciate the sound of the record, which
echoes and chimes like a windy alley at midnight. "Brother Run Them Down" is one
of the rare punchy, hooky tracks on Kensington Heights, but it speaks to the
same exhaustion that pervades the rest of the record, and offers its own skewed
kind of sympathy and reassurance.
Deerhunter,
"Agoraphobia"
I'm catching a vibe halfway between My Bloody
Valentine and Pavement emitting from Deerhunter's Microcastle, and while there are
countless ways that combination could go wrong—too pointlessly noisy,
say, or too willfully slack—Deerhunter pulls it together by shooting for
something like beauty. Microcastle gets a little dreary in the middle, but at the
finish and the start—especially at the start, with songs like the winsome
"Agoraphobia," with its mumbly call for salvation—the album hums along
winningly.
Drive-By
Truckers, "Two Daughters And A Beautiful Wife"
After Brighter Than Creation's Dark, I'm ready to call
Drive-By Truckers more or less infallible. They've made albums I've liked more
than others, but they've yet to make a completely bum LP, and while Patterson
Hood in particular can get too comfortable with his twangy rural tragedies, the
band's overall poise makes the hicksploitation completely credible, and even
stirring. This song—a compact sketch of the aftermath of
violence—putters along, haunting listeners with Hood's heartrending
vision of heaven: "Maybe every day is Saturday morning… two daughters and a
beautiful wife."
Eric
Matthews, "Radio Boy"
After disappearing for a decade, Matthews now
seems determined never to go away again, and to be honest, though The
Imagination Stage
may be the best record Matthews has released since the comeback, there's an
element of diminishing returns to his very samey-sounding songs. Still, it's
great that The Imagination Stage finds Matthews returning to the fuller sound of
his '90s records, and great that he's still capable of a song as stunningly
beautiful (and, I admit, painfully earnest) as this rumination on what happens
when a musician gets too popular.
Fleet
Foxes, "White Winter Hymnal"
As I wrote last week, I'm mildly dismayed by how
much Fleet Foxes sounds like My Morning Jacket and Band Of Horses, minus the
rock punch that makes those bands so impressive. But again, that dismay is only
mild. Fleet Foxes' songs are just so doggone pretty—perfect for an
afternoon nap or driving slowly toward the horizon at sunrise.
The
Gaslight Anthem, "Miles Davis & The Cool"
It took me a spin or two to get used to the
pop-punk polish and relentlessly anthemic nature of The '59 Sound, but I kept returning
because the songs are so catchy—like Bruce Springsteen's Born In The
U.S.A. as
recorded by The Bouncing Souls. The Gaslight Anthem are actively trying to move
their listeners, and while I can imagine that some might find their bold-faced
sincerity overwrought, it's exactly what I'm looking for these days:
well-written songs played simply and energetically, with a strong element of
uplift. Somewhere around the fourth or fifth time through The '59 Sound, I felt the biggest pang
of regret I've yet had during this project. If I hadn't been working on
Popless, I could've been listening to The Gaslight Anthem all year. What a
pity.
Gentleman
Jesse, "Black Hole"
I have the same problem with Gentleman Jesse's Introducing that I
have with a lot of retro-styled power-pop: I find that that most of the songs
on the record sound good superficially, but are too one-note and sugary to
reward close listening. Nevertheless, "Black Hole" is a blast no matter how
many times I hear it. From the chunky guitars to the sly backbeat, "Black Hole"
advances the cause of power-pop as the only appropriate soundtrack for
adolescent abandon.
Gnarls
Barkley, "Who's Gonna Save My Soul"
The Odd Couple is a decidedly moodier
record than St. Elsewhere, but it's also more cohesive and better-realized.
"Who's Gonna Save My Soul" is indicative of what the album does so well,
combining familiar genre elements—gospel shouting, Brazilian lounge
music, trip-hop—into something delicately textured and absolutely
riveting.
[pagebreak]
The
Hold Steady, "Constructive Summer"
Stay Positive doesn't represent much of an advance over
the previous three Hold Steady albums, but it's definitely not a step down
either, and if the band wants to settle into a groove of releasing "annual
reminder(s) that we can all be something bigger," you're not going to catch me
complaining. By an accident of the alphabet, "Constructive Summer" offers a
nice rejoinder to Gnarls Barkley just above. Who's going to save our souls?
"Raise a toast to saint Joe Strummer."
Jay
Reatard, "Let It All Go"
There was way too much Reatard in '08 for me to
make sense of it all, and since I wasn't previously aware of Jay Lindsey's
half-dozen other bands and solo projects, it's going to take a while for me to
get up to speed and figure out where I stand. In a nutshell, I'd say that I'm
not entirely convinced that Lindsey's prolific nature serves his music all that
well, though the preponderance of memorable melodies and exuberant sound on Jay
Reatard's two '08 singles collections is clearly indicative of an artist
working at such a peak that he's unwilling to stem the tide, even when leaves
behind a lot of flotsam. Can't say I blame him, actually.
Langhorne
Slim, "Rebel Side Of Heaven"
Reading up on '08 music, I've learned that even
the few critics who wrote about Langhorne Slim's eponymous LP tended to
complain that it's less raucous than his earlier records, which is arguably
true. But oh man, those songs! "Rebel Side Of Heaven" has a corny chorus, but
it's fun to hum with and it sticks in the head, which is not something I'd say
about the majority of songs I've heard this year.
Los
Campesinos!, "My Year In Lists"
Not to toot my own horn, but when I heard the Los
Campesinos! debut EP back in July of '07, I recognized the greatness
immediately, writing, "The much-blogged-about Welsh indie-pop band Los
Campesinos gets a proper introduction to North America with the EP Sticking
Fingers Into Sockets,
which compiles both sides of the band's first two singles and adds a kicky, statement-of-purpose
cover of Pavement's 'Frontwards.' Given Los Campesinos' skewed sense of humor,
as well as their preference for glockenspiels and fiddles, the band appears to
have more in common with Brakes and I'm From Barcelona than with Steven Malkmus.
But they clearly know a grand melody when they hear it, and for all the twee
trappings, Los Campesinos is surprisingly aggressive. Somewhere, in some
college dorm, someone just discovered a new favorite band." I haven't heard the
latest album—I'm waiting until my eMusic subscription kicks in for
December—but Hold On Now, Youngster… offers plenty to unpack, from the
half-dozen hooks the band introduces and dispatches in each song to the lyrics
that read like notes to ex-lovers, scrawled in haste. What more apt song could
I choose from Youngster than this two-minute indie-pop version of Nick Hornby's High
Fidelity?
M83,
"Kim & Jessie"
As a fan of M83's earlier song-suites, I probably
had too-high expectations for Saturdays=Youth, which has been described
as the band's homage to '80s pop, and specifically to the wall-of-sound
aesthetic that enveloped the British scene in the post-U2 era. I appreciate
that Saturdays=Youth stays in the familiar M83 suite mode, but I can't help noting
that most of the album's songs can't stand up to the music they're meant to
honor. Saturdays=Youth's exercises in lush technopop are, by and large, too
conventional, and not as deliriously poppy. But there are wonderful exceptions,
like "Kim & Jessie," which sounds like Simple Minds filtered through My
Bloody Valentine.
Mudcrutch,
"Crystal River"
I can dig the impulse that led Tom Petty to revive
one of his old bands and pick right up as though the last 35 years hadn't
happened, as though there was still a place in this world for proficiently
played Southern rock, outside of dank clubs in mid-sized cities. But I wish the
songs on Mudcrutch
were better. Or maybe I just wish they were all as good as "Crystal River," a
stone beauty that establishes a mystical mood and then extends it, as though
understanding that there's no need to hurry off this winding, wonder-filled
path.
My
Morning Jacket, "Two Halves"
I was disappointed to find out firsthand that Evil
Urges is
nowhere near as compact or focused as Z, but the extra space does give My Morning
Jacket more room to experiment: sometimes disastrously, as on the aptly named
"Highly Suspicious," and sometimes gloriously, as on the rumbly retro-rocker
"Two Halves."
Portishead,
"Plastic"
I wrote last week that I'm not as keen on abrasion
as I was when I was younger, but when smartly executed, songs that sound like
waking nightmares can be highly effective. The alarming pastiche of sounds in
"Plastic"—which sounds like a recurring dream of wartime—is so
arresting and unnerving that it always makes me double-check my browser to make
sure I didn't leave a YouTube video running.
R.E.M.,
"Mr. Richards"
At the risk of sounding like a hopeless fogey, I
have to say that I love the new R.E.M. album. I wasn't entirely convinced by the rave
reviews Accelerate
received earlier this year, because to me the problem with the last couple of
R.E.M. records wasn't that they were dabbling in different sounds, but that their
songwriting just wasn't up to snuff. I don't know what snapped these dudes back
to attention, but Accelerate is genuinely enjoyable from start to finish, with
songs that are nimble and invigorating. And while listening to it over the past
couple of months, I've developed a renewed appreciation for Michael Stipe, who
provides the bulk of the texture and shape of free-flowing rock songs like "Mr.
Richards." Take away Stipe's voice—or replace him with any other
vocalist—and the song would be merely serviceable. Add Stipe to the mix,
and it becomes classic R.E.M.
The
Rosebuds, "Bow To The Middle"
It's probably not fair to call The Rosebuds' Like
Life a
comeback, because they've really only made one iffy album (following two very
good ones). But given how fleeting inspiration can be in alt-rock, I'd pretty
much steeled myself to the idea that the band I once saw such promise in had
moved into the affectation-and-doodling phase of their career. But Like Life restored my confidence.
It's as tight and tuneful as Make Out, as evidenced by "Bow To The Middle," a bright,
jaunty sing-along flavored with just the right accent of bitterness.
Ryan
Adams & The Cardinals, "Like Yesterday"
As with just about every other Ryan Adams album of
the last five years, my initial reaction to Cardinology was somewhat deflated. I
felt like it was a disappointing return to superficiality for a
singer-songwriter whose gifts come so easy to him that he often doesn't pay
them the proper respect. Three or four spins later, I'm ready to say that Cardinology is as good as Easy
Tiger, Love
Is Hell, Cold
Roses—all
the greats. Just listen to "Like Yesterday," a song that introduces a new
melodic idea every half-minute, all in service of a wistful, gracious
meditation on how painful change can be.
Starling
Electric, "The St. Valentines Day Massacre"
"The St. Valentines Day Massacre" is the opening
song of Starling Electric's two-year-old self-released LP Clouded Staircase (reissued by Bar-None in
'08), and thus the first song I'd ever heard by this band, whom I came to for
reasons I can't recall. (Did one of you readers recommend them, or was I just
swayed by the review on eMusic?) After I got over the initial shock of how much
"The St. Valentines Day Massacre" sounds like Guided By Voices, I began to hear
how much better-crafted this is than the typical Robert Pollard tune. The
playing is more proficient, the arrangement more purposeful. That isn't a knock
on GBV; just a note on how Starling Electric set themselves apart. They're all
about cohesion, not entropy.
Subtle,
"The No"
I'm running hot and cold on TV On The Radio's Dear
Science,
which I'll think is brilliant one moment and clamorous the next. On the whole,
I'm sure Dear Science is probably a superior record to Subtle's science-fiction
alt-rap record Exiting Arm, with which it has some sonic similarities. But
on the simplest level, I think songs like "The No" are more immediately
effective than TV On The Radio's keep-piling-on-the-sound approach to Dear
Science.
Though Exiting Arm
is plenty ambitious too, it's playing to a select audience, unlike TVOTR's
mainstream push. Subtle has less to lose. But that doesn't make "The No" any
less magnificent.
[pagebreak]
Sun
Kil Moon, "Tonight In Bilbao"
The first two Sun Kil Moon albums seemed to signal
a maturing Mark Kozelek, now recording songs that were fuller and more
purposeful than the oft-rambling Red House Painters. April, though, is clearly a
stylistic retreat for Kozelek, sounding a lot like an album's worth of outtakes
from RHP's Old Ramon, right down to the little martial drum fills running under
the intricately woven guitars. So in terms of advancing the art, April is a disappointment. But
in terms of being a well-modulated, often gorgeous album, April works just fine. And
"Tonight In Bilbao" in particular gives me what I expect from Kozelek: a
lengthy, mesmerizing song designed to establish a mood and then pull the
listener in, one twangy pluck at a time.
Throw
Me The Statue, "About To Walk"
I stumbled across Throw Me The Statue while
perusing Amazon's best-of-'08 list a few weeks ago, and saw them again while
scanning down eMusic's list of recommended-for-you New Releases, which
convinced me to take a chance on them. To a significant extent, bands like
this—from their stupid name to their twee, lo-fi sound—are exactly
what I'm trying to move away from with my future music-listening. But
bandleader Scott Reitherman has an unusual approach to melody, and he writes lyrics
that stick. "About To Walk" is the good kind of indie: casual yet tuneful, with
a modicum of quirk, but not so much that the oddball-itude becomes the whole
point.
The
Ting Tings, "That's Not My Name"
I'll admit that about two-thirds of We Started
Nothing
is annoying in the extreme, but as with Santogold, M.I.A., and other acts that
straddle the line between hip-hop, indie-pop, and cheerleader-rock, The Ting
Tings have a sound that can be ridiculously exciting when the song's just
right. The combination of jump-rope chanting, clap-along beats, cooing
background vocals, and gradual build really pushes "That's Not My Name" past
the level of superficially kicky and into the realm of genuinely alive. This is the kind of song
that makes me wish I belonged to a gym.
Vampire
Weekend, "Campus"
Too much has been written both in favor of and
against Vampire Weekend, given how fundamentally slight—yet genuinely
entertaining—the songs on their debut album are. When I finally heard Vampire
Weekend,
I was surprised it had drawn so much ire. The record is so lively, unassuming,
and easy to enjoy, even if at times it sounds like the blueprint for the better
album that the band might make someday. Vampire Weekend reminds me a lot of
Spoon's Telefono:
It's a good album, with a few standout songs and a lot of promise. But it's Telefono, you know? It ain't yet Girls
Can Tell.
The
Walkmen, "Postcards From Tiny Islands"
You & Me takes The Walkmen's "Clinic plays Bob
Dylan" sound even further into spookville, maintaining basically one tone from
start to finish, with occasional bursts of excitement like this livewire mood
piece—a song that manages to be simultaneously tuneless and yet far, far
from forgettable. I'm not sure where The Walkmen can go with this approach
next, but they haven't made any major mistakes so far. If anything, their
albums get more impressive each time out, as they become the sole masters of
being The Walkmen.
The
Week That Was, "The Good Life"
I will miss Field Music if they have indeed
dissolved, but so long as FM's members continue on in different configurations,
I have little reason to gripe. I wasn't that wild about the Field Music
offshoot School Of Language, but The Week That Was' debut album upholds the
best Field Music tradition, with all the chimes, harmonies, disjointed rhythms,
and fascination with the everyday that made FM one of my favorite new bands of
the past five years.
Also listened to: Abe Vigoda, American
Music Club, American Princes, Beck, The Black Keys, Bon Iver, Bonnie "Prince"
Billy, Chris Walla, The Clientele, Coldplay, David Byrne & Brian Eno, Death
Cab For Cutie, Deerhoof, Destroyer, The Dirtbombs, The Duke Spirit, Elkhart,
Evangelicals, Frightened Rabbit, Future Of The Left, Girl Talk, Headlights,
Human Bell, Jack Peñate, Kaki King, Kings Of Leon, The Kooks, Lambchop, Lil'
Wayne, The Little Ones, The Low Anthem, The Magnetic Fields, Marah, Mates Of
State, MGMT, The Mountain Goats, Nada Surf, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Parenthetical
Girls, Ra Ra Riot, Retribution Gospel Choir, Santogold, School Of Language, She
& Him, Sigur Ros, Sloan, Snow Patrol, Spiritualized, Stephen Malkmus,
Stereolab, Times New Viking, Titus Andronicus, Tokyo Police Club, TV On The
Radio, Vivian Girls, Wale, Washington Social Club, The Wedding Present and Wolf
Parade
And that's all, folks. See you back in the regular
review section in '09.