Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Favourite Songs and Albums of the Decade #10-1

Albums

10. This is Happening - LCD Soundsystem


LCD Soundsystem’s farewell album is enriching, piercingly genuine, and inescapably sad. From the grooving purge of ‘Dance Yrself Clean’ to the resolutely confident, pertinently titled closer ‘Home,’ there’s a pervasion of ending, of the realisation of outgrowth. James Murphy and his human soundsystem came late to the party as international Popstars, and their overwhelming popularity frightened them. They appeal to millions because they’re countercultural with a brain. They rage against both the machine and hipster twee but realise they do so in vain, and that’s okay. In the end it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re content with yourself. It’s a comforting thought, but that doesn’t mean they don’t want to have fun. They go out with a euphoric bang, with all the funkadelic synthesisers and infectious beats they can muster. They’re my second favourite band for a reason.


9. Channel Orange - Frank Ocean

When you hear the acclaim ‘genius singer-songwriter’, you’d be forgiven for picturing a scruffy, chain-smoking folk singer rather than a weedy, introverted R&B idiosyncrat. But Frank Ocean is a genius singer-songwriter, and this is coming from an initial sceptic. Dwelling under the attention-drawing Hipster-Hop behemoth that is Odd Future, Ocean’s sensitivity, humanity and talent could flourish in stark contrast with his groupmates. Following on from his terrific debut, Nostalgia Ultra, Channel Orange is an opus of human emotion and social critique. As ambitious as it is, both thematically and musically, it’s Ocean’s personal direction, his endearing modesty, which really hits home. Robert Christgau summarises this elegant restraint better than I ever could; ‘when he's the sole composer Ocean resists making a show of himself—resists the dope hook, the smart tempo, the transcendent falsetto itself.’ It’s the humbling easiness of his meditation which vindicates him.


8. Bon Iver, Bon Iver - Bon Iver

Okay, Justin Vernon didn’t cathartically confine himself to self-imposed isolation in some backwater cabin with a guitar, a pen, some paper, and presumably a fuck-ton of soup, but I think Bon Iver is even better than For Emma. Vernon expanded the project by inviting in external parties, but while horns and steel drums are introduced, the record can’t be reduced to some pigeon-holing music industry cliché such as ‘natural progression’ or ‘sideways move’. As critic Josh Jackson agreeably observes, ‘it retains the beautiful melancholy of For Emma, but in nearly every way, it’s just more.’ As the title itself intimates, it’s exactly the same, only it isn’t. For this is still Vernon’s voice; the thunderous brass on ‘Perth’ or breezy horns on ‘Beth/Rest’ supplement his echoey waver and hazy guitar. Forgetting comparisons to previous work, Bon Iver, Bon Iver triumphs as an incandescently forlorn poem, illuminated in flowery synths, cryptic, moving lyrics, and the most gorgeous harmonies you’ll hear this decade.


7. On The Impossible Past - The Menzingers

My favourite Punk album of the decade, Greg Barnett’s lyrical pattern follows the Americana-glossed storytelling of Brian Fallon and The Gaslight Anthem. But boy do they surpass it. I mean sure, there’s still anecdotes about sitting glumly in Philadelphia bars, sobbing over break-ups, and dancing like you don’t care, but there’s also the ominous stench of mortality and excruciating reminiscence which drenches everything. Whether it’s the jaw-dropping confessional ‘The Obituaries’-‘Cause I've cursed my lonely memory with picture-perfect imagery’-or the impudent shrug of ‘I Can’t Seem To Tell’-‘Remember the days when I had a conscience? Yeh me neither’-it’s a gut-wrenchingly earnest work of admission. Death envelops the album, especially in its assessment of memory; its illusoriness, its deceptive falsehoods, and its aura of future possibility. It’s music of yearning nostalgia and bitter remembrance, of hope and despair; a lyrical masterpiece, handsomely augmented by aggressively emphatic riffs and soul-raising choruses.


6. Southeastern - Jason Isbell

What makes Southeastern a great album? At the time I made my end-of-year list even, my favourite album of 2013? Is it the effectually sparse chordwork? Jason Isbell’s graceful yet quietly booming vocals? It might be, but it’s probably his conceit. For in each of his songs, Isbell adopts the persona of a different, incredibly flawed American male, and opens up their humanity. He plays an ex wife-beating alcoholic on ‘Live Oak,’ and a womaniser-turned-carer for a dying woman on the incredible ‘Elephant.’ After exposing the fragility of human relationships, existence and our arbitrary concepts of morality, he concludes with a scathing indictment of first world problems on ‘Relatively Easy,’ asserting that, essentially, we’re worried about the wrong stuff. It’s soothing, tranquil, cold, jagged, tender, and indispensable. It’s simply one of the best Folk records in a long, long time.


5. The Greatest Generation - The Wonder Years

I never had an Emo phase. I had an 80s phase instead. I thought My Chemical Romance and 30 Seconds to Mars and Paramore and all that undulated stud-belted angst was a bit silly. It’s only been in last two or three years I’ve realised that there’s good and bad Emo in the same way there’s good and bad British Indie; there’s a Wonder Years and Brand New for each MCR and 30STM in the same way there’s a Bloc Party or Los Campesinos for every The Enemy. Underneath the indubitably catchy riffs and driving one-liners of Pop-Punk is a uniquely introverted, nostalgic, almost solipsistic voice. Some of the best lyricists working today deal in the oft-vilified realm of Emo, and possibly the best of all is The Wonder Years’s Dan Campbell. It’s tried-and-tested territory; invocations of heartbreak during teenage summers, confrontations with mortality in suburbs, but Campbell’s flair with turn-of-phrase reveals a conflicted disposition which both demonises and glorifies our ‘generation,’ and stresses the consequence of our adolescent upbringing. Will we be the ones to destroy our world or save it? Campbell doesn’t have answers, but he’s determined to find them in his, and our, past. The Greatest Generation is ultimately about the most Emoey of things; that interminable, desperate search for an identity. Campbell flirts with the frontier of the personal, national and humanist identity, and their expected paradoxes, and that’s why it’s so amazing. It’s about everything and absolutely nothing. One of the greatest Pop-Punk albums of all-time; fuck it, it’s my favourite.


4. My Beautiful, Dark, Twisted Fantasy - Kanye West

While it’s not quite my favourite album of the past five years, in my honest opinion, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is one of the greatest artistic statements of the decade so far. It is, essentially, Kanye’s pathological megalith, appropriating him as a singular extreme of the human condition – pride, insecurity, and the dangers of self-reflection. MBDTF depicts Kanye at his most alien and relatable, a living personification of postmodernism’s headache, self-veneration, and complicitly self-destruction; the emptiness of the dream of corporate Eden. With all this heady subject matter, the most amazing thing is that Kanye appears entirely self-aware, entirely transparent. Every track offers something different. The hostile, toxic ‘Monster’ (dat verse from Nicki tho), the exhausted anxiety which props up the album’s opening and ending in ‘Who Will Survive In America’ and ‘Lost In The World’; Justin Vernon’s ethereal wail the impeccable companion in relaying this loneliness. In the indomitable, rumbling, intricate centrepiece, the brilliant ‘Runaway’, Kanye breaks down and builds himself up again arbitrated by the simplest, blandest piano chord. It’s the best song he’s ever recorded. MBDTF works as a thrilling, moving, terrifying essay on the inextricability of self-worship and self-loathing.


3. Benji - Sun Kil Moon

I know it’s been out for less than a year, but Benji is one of my most treasured albums. A series of wistfully told excerpts from Mark Kozalek’s weary, loosely fatalistic autobiography, accrue in one vividly sprawling canvas of the inaccessibility of life. I’m not sure whether it’s the elegant simplicity of the melodies, the sighing expectancy of Kozalek’s growl, or the neutrality of the lyrics, but it touches me in ways the vast majority of music can’t realise. Crackling with childhood nostalgia and a near-overbearing sense of mortality, Benji’s existential haughtiness is tempered by moving devotions to family and friends, and genuinely funny and profound recollections about fame (‘Ben’s my Friend’) and sex (‘Dogs’). The impassivity of the words is disarming at first, but it implores a resounding universality; in Kozalek’s stories we find ourselves and our own thoughts and emotions and passions and fears and sorrows and joys.


2. Celebration Rock - Japandroids

Celebration Rock is a fairly non-sequiturial album name; I mean sure, it’s triumphant in a carefree, belligerently philanthropic sort of way, but this celebration is more defiantly, spiritedly decadent, than just flippantly decadent. ‘Mortally Urgent Celebration Rock’ would be a more appropriate title. Japandroids aren’t focussed on Japandroids, and all its synonyms of 30s mid-life crisis, anymore. Nah, now they’re obsessed with that most gargantuan ubiquity of living, as well or as shittily as you possibly want. Brian King implores that how you live is irrelevant to actually living. My favourite song is LCD Soundsystem’s All My Friends because it captures perfectly the transubstantiation of friendship, experience and situational ephemerality, the best of active living. This is an entire tracklist of that. Celebration Rock, with its irreconcilable guitars, translucent drums and unapologetically Punk-Pop ‘Woah Oh Ohs’ roars living with a resonant, air-punching clarity.


1. Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City - Kendrick Lamar

Section.80 defines flawed masterpiece, a rambling mess invaded by frequent flexes of utter genius. Good Kid M.A.A.D. City is more rapt and lucid, a tightly woven narrative simmering with ideas and emotions held together by Kendrick’s intensive musicality. His flow and production is predictably immaculate, so we’ll move on from that. The autobiography is one of the most common subsidiaries of the ‘Concept Album,’ with Pink Floyd’s groundbreaking The Wall still holding rank as its definitive ideal. Somehow Good Kid feels more personal than even The Wall, more deep-rooted. The very title explicates the record’s central dichotomy; the ‘good kid’ struggling in the ‘M.A.A.D. City’. The frayed portrait of gang existence on ‘M.A.A.D. City’ and ‘The Art of Peer Pressure’ illustrate a fragile boy desperately trying to survive in violent conditions. It’s powerfully inventive, the transition in ‘M.A.A.D. City’ announced by the ‘WAKE YO’ PUNK ASS UP’ soundbite a microcosm of Kendrick’s terrible epiphany. Conversely, the album is peppered with familial warmth, humour and affection, whether it’s a voicemail with his uncle yelling at him about a Dominos pizza or his mum warbling a genuinely heart-warming plea to be better. Sure he raps about pussy on ‘Sherane,’ but only to convey teenage Kendrick’s self-conscious, perturbed sexuality. Sure he raps about having bags of dolla on ‘Swimming Pools,’ but only to express his anxiety over how extreme opulence will corrupt him. ‘Backseat Freestyle’ is ripping the absolute piss out of the Rap culture teenage Kendrick adulated. That it’s a banger with the sultriest of beats is a bonus. In ‘Real’ he croons that ‘none of that shit made me real.’  True that. It’s a celebration of the power of family, music and self-empowerment, and a devastating subversion of the frivolity of New-School Rap. Not only my favourite album of the decade so far, but my favourite Hip-Hop album of all-time.


Songs

20. Ill Manors - Plan B


19. No Black Person is Ugly - Lil B


18. The Devil in my Bloodstream - The Wonder Years


17. Two Heavens - Death Grips


16. Dancing on my Own - Robyn


15. Pyramids - Frank Ocean


14. I Am Disappeared - Frank Turner


13. Your Love is Killing Me - Sharon Van Etten


12. M.A.A.D. City - Kendrick Lamar


11. Can't Do Without You - Caribou


10. Ya Hey - Vampire Weekend


9. Desire Lines - Deerhunter


8. Dance Yrself Clean - LCD Soundsystem


7. I'm Not Part of Me - Cloud Nothings


6. Werewolf - Fiona Apple


5. Calgary - Bon Iver


4. Midnight City - M83


3. Hold on We're Going Home - Drake


2. Runaway - Kanye West


1. The House That Heaven Built - Japandroids


Tuesday, 30 December 2014

Favourite Albums/Songs of the Decade #20-11

Albums

20. The Money Store - Death Grips

You could call Death Grips avant-garde; experimental; even progressive, but that’d be an artifice. Yip, they’re unique, but that’s not why people love them. They’re unabashedly, comprehensively mental. The Money Store is their most naturally commercial output, with some faint echoes of melody and traditional songwriting structures, but it’s still bonkers. The sultry bass of ‘Blackjack’, the flaring synths of ‘I’ve Seen Footage’, the manic paranoia of ‘Punk Weight’, the gleeful turpitude of climax ‘Hacker;’ it’s one hell of a journey. Nothing more to be said really.


19. Halcyon Digest - Deerhunter

The notorious eccentric Bradford Cox had been producing some of the most interesting Art-Rock of the noughties but 2010’s Halcyon Digest showed Deerhunter as something refined, complete, and eminent. Allegedly a chronicle of ‘queer’ familiarity, it charters various elements of factual and fictional gay experiences, from Art, and from Cox’s own understandings. It’s sweeping, documenting the fall from grace of a fashion designer into gay pornographer in ‘Helicopter,’ and the effervescent wheeze of ‘Sailing’ identifying a inimitable idea of inaccessibility. And it’s all done with the cleanest, most sophisticated compositional accompaniment. A record of comfort, for anyone who's ever struggled with loneliness. So everyone.


18. Carry on the Grudge - Jamie T

On Carry on the Grudge, Jamie Treays is evidently suffering from an early-life crisis. Post-adolescent disillusionment, even depression, is a topic barely touched upon in media, ostensibly because the idea that young, healthy people could be cynical and exasperated is ridiculous; what could we possibly be dissatisfied with? Treays gives a voice to this silent underground, one which is sophisticated, articulate and concerted. There’s still an undercurrent of juvenile hedonism. There’s still allusions to boozing and shagging, but he does so with a heavy heart. His songwriting is tighter and more focussed, and his lyrics more relatable for their protracted heft. It feels like Jamie’s first cohesive record, rather than a collection of great songs.


17. Modern Vampires of the City - Vampire Weekend

Vampire Weekend take their avant-garde Pop sensibilities into bold thematic territory in Modern Vampires, tackling actuality, religion, faith and the incomprehensibility of love; all in relation to the equivalence of an omniscient, omnipresent God. It approaches philosophy and theology with the excessive eagerness of an undergrad, but Ezra Koenig handles it with maturity and a pleasing dispassion. Alongside all this heavy speculating, their happy-go-lucky enthusiasm for music and artistic potential still resonates brightly. Furthermore, New York’s hipster prince Ezra Koenig proposes the idea that joy and sorrow are inextricable, the fun ‘Diane Young’ a weirdly apposite twin for the dystopian ‘Hudson.’ After all, all life is superimposed.


16. Hurry up, We're Dreaming - M83

I honestly doubt there is a more epically orchestrated Pop album than Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming. M83’s Anthony Gonzalez has always had a flair for the melodramatic taste of the future, like a House-club Vangelis, but Hurry Up revealed a vastly improved songwriting style which added lyrical fusion, tempo and a structured pacing to the discharging canvas of synthesisers and guitars. From the majesty of ‘Midnight City’ (is there a more apt representation of our decade’s optimism and parochial narcissism?) to the hazy luridness of ‘Steve McQueen,’ there’s a definable emotional journey established for the hearer. Thankfully though, this is not at the expense of some of the most listenable soundscapes ever produced.


15. Present Tense - Wild Beasts

The Line of Best Fit called Present Tense ‘the most intelligent, involving and profound record since OK Computer'. A pretty bold claim. But it is fantastic. To my discredit, I’d always appreciated Wild Beasts more than I enjoyed them. To me they were talented and interesting, but the disharmony of Thorpe’s alto and Fleming’s lower register always recorded as a bit twee for my taste. Not on Present Tense. Within three minutes Thorpe sneers ‘don’t confuse me with someone who gives a fuck,’ setting the tone pretty well. There’s nothing twee here, just a satisfyingly direct, and immensely compelling, approach to the link between consciousness, sex, class politics and philosophy.


14. The Idler Wheel - Fiona Apple

The Idler Wheel is something special. The entire 45 minutes seems distilled from studio gentrifications and inauthentic overproductions. It’s positively putrid of reckless honesty. She has no pretensions of Popstar or cult Folk-hero; she herself simply remarks ‘what I am is what I am, and I does as I does.’ In manner with her sentiments her percussion is teasingly sparse and esoteric, a lot of bottle taps and boot clomps. And fittingly, her percussion is her piano’s solitary friend. That is, of course, except for her storyteller voice. Proudly defiant, yet shakingly insular, she pokes and prods at identifiable situations with alarming clarity considering they’re disguised in abstruse, provocative, and tender allegories.


13. Old - Danny Brown

‘They want that old Danny Brown/to bag up and sell a whole pound,’ Danny kindly explains to us on his title track. The title of the album itself is a dichotomy; it’s a reference of his diffidence towards the fans campaigning for a return to the smart meta-Hop of his discography pre-XXX, and also a reference of his, well, ageing. It’s productively solid across a variety of Rap angles and subgenres, exemplifying shrieking synths and rapturous kick-drums, selective sampling, and even an oddly chillwave undertone spills through on the existentially inquisitive ‘Lonely’ and ‘Float On.’ but it’s Brown’s poignant self-awareness, and willingness to mature and grow, that really appeals.


12. Bloom - Beach House

Beach House are the quintessential Dream-Pop band, and Bloom is them at their unparalleled finest. Their overtly synthesisers-circulated assembly caresses almost as serenely as Victoria Legrand’s angelic chorus. She speaks of ‘momentary bliss’ and ‘the moment when a memory aches,’ somehow fusing emotional entanglement and unflustered commentary. They’ve been criticised previously for being overproduced and frigidly clean, but I challenge anyone to not fall in love with the silk-coated sheets of Bloom’s melodies, their strikingly opulent sound evokes a very real sense of time and place-of joy, sadness, love-and the necessity to appreciate its transient splendour. For Beach House are obsessed with the progressive disintegration of everything, but also its eminent bloom.


11. RTJ2 - Run The Jewels

Petrifying, vitriolic, malevolent, misanthropic, and entertaining as hell, the second harvest from El-P and Killer Mike’s collaborative mind-fuck is superb. This time their target is ‘fuck boys,’ who I can only assume, based on their colourful descriptions, to mean absolutely everyone, ever. The beats and hooks are frantic, fraught and frighteningly filthy, the production is an onslaught of furious fun. The wordplay is even better, contaminated with some of the wittiest and most vile insults and boasts I’ve ever heard in a rap song. It’s indescribably tough to pick my favourite line, but I might have to settle with ‘you can run backwards naked through a field of dicks.’ This is Hip-Hop more violently splendid than you've ever heard it.


Songs

40. Shutterbug - Big Boi


39. Latch - Disclosure


38. Ben's my Friend - Sun Kil Moon


37. Keisha's Song - Kendrick Lamar


36. Laura - Bat For Lashes


35. Wicked Games - The Weeknd


34. Zombie - Jamie T


33. Oh My Darling - Run The Jewels


32. A Dog's Life - Wild Beasts


31. The Greatest Bastard - Damien Rice


30. Elephant - Jason Isbell


29. Bring the Noize - MIA


28. Lazuli - Beach House


27. Sprawl II - Arcade Fire


26. Float On - Danny Brown


25. Comrade - Volcano Choir


24. Song For Zula - Phosphorescent


23. Niggas in Paris - Kanye West & Jay Z


22. Gates - The Menzingers


21. Pink Rabbits - The National


Sunday, 28 December 2014

Favourite Albums/Songs of the Decade #30-21

Albums

30. Kill for Love - Chromatics

A sonic painting of a dense, futuristic but graspable cityscape. Textured nearly to the point of insipid perfection, it clogs every sense with a deep impassioned timbre. Tired synths and distant guitars float along Ruth Radelet’s disengaged, machinelike voice, troubled by the sinister social cessation of this nameless epoch. This is a world in which only pop music can be used to emotionally communicate; subsequently a world where Chromatics are kings. An enveloping atmosphere of longing for connection and tireless ardour, it’s a science-fiction noir-romance epic exploding through my speakers, and I love every second of it.


29. Ill Manors - Plan B

One of the best British albums of recent years is also one of the most (pleasantly) unexpected. I’d always associated Plan B with inoffensive Soul-Pop, largely ignoring everything he’d ever done before. Then Ill Manors pops up, and one thing it does particularly well is grab your attention. Following the aftermath of the London riots, Ben Drew’s patience with the demonization of the urban classes had withered. Loud, brash beats underscore Drew’s venomous, vilifying spits. Parallels can be drawn with his contemporary Killer Mike, but this political indictment hits closer to home. It’s Hip-Hop angrier, and more scathingly powerful, than I’ve ever heard it.


28. Kaputt - Destroyer

When people talk about the vast genre behemoth that is Indie Rock they generally ignore the jazz-infused Romantics which populate it. You know the bands, Dirty Projectors, Lambchop, and of course Destroyer. Since the late 90s Destroyer have been commanding this underappreciated niche, their wistful jaunts as memorably soothing as they are dissonantly critical. Kaputt bears an oracle’s wisdom, on, of all things, decadence and hedonism. The reverbed brass and mystified synths wander into the acid-dropped distance, leaving behind Bejar’s bemused pontification on the disappointments of superficial pleasures. The final track is suitably titled ‘Bay of Pigs,’ a reference to the hapless US invasion of Cuba in 1961, suggesting the vanity of excessive overambition.


27. Father, Son, Holy Ghost - Girls

Girls’s presence in music remains mythological, an ephemeral phase of modernised classic rock which vanished as inexplicably as it popped into existence. Everything from the Stones, to Zeppelin, to Deep Purple, are invoked in its stoically old-fashioned song-structures. There’s massive guitar solos, impeccably adjusted backtracks, flutes, organs, everything you’d expect from an album hypothetically classified under Rolling Stone’s ‘best rock records of all time.’ Father Son is no anachronistic elegy to the ghost of guitar music though, it might not be quite as thoughtful or as layered as Album, but Doug Boehm’s words are eloquent, provocative, self-aware, and occasionally they completely hit the spot.


26. Obsidian - Baths

Baths is one of the rarest of things in musicians; someone whose work can be legitimately categorised as poetry. A breathing contradiction, his overt Anime fanboyness on Twitter discords with his deeply morbid, obsessively erotic, beautifully expressive music. A malign product of Weisenfeld’s spat of E. Coli in 2012, he concocts something terrifying and interminable and gorgeous. The clinks of minimalistic percussion, the whispers of spectral piano, the glint of a reclusive violin, all balance Will Weisenfeld’s uncomfortable reflections, tainting them with requisite sympathy. For all his references to overtly sexual images, it’s his brief instances of agonising meditation which last; he comments, ‘I was never a poet.’


25. England Keep my Bones - Frank Turner

You can’t keep Frank Turner down. There’s not much subtlety to him, he bears his politics emboldened on his chest, and his reverence of rock’n’roll is celestially tattooed on his voice. England Keep my Bones is something slightly different (though ‘I Still Believe’ is probably the most explicit tribute to rock there’s ever been), an uplifting yet pensively sad testament to England. And here’s where the subtlety comes in. There’s patriotism in his glorifications of England’s landscapes and cultures, his venerations of its social institutions and traditions. However, there’s also the idea that something of England’s soul has been lost, that Turner actively trundles its landscapes in search of spiritual affirmation and simply can’t find it. It ends on a bizarre if interesting celebration of unilateral secularisation.


24. Sunbather - Deafhaven

In a curious defiance of the laws of sound, Deafhaven string together elements of Shoegaze, Post-Rock, and Heavy Metal to form something puzzlingly mellifluous and even beautiful. Sure it’s just rapid-fire drumming, screaming, and heavily dubbed guitars, but fragments fit the whole so well that it births melody, and I’m by no means a Metal fan. I can only put this discrepancy down to spotless song structure, a near perfect cohesion of isolated instrumental parts. So, what happens when you correspond the frantic magnetism of Metal sound and sincere musical melody? You get something that feels absolutely significant, that I have to listen to each chord and syllable with utter attention, even though I haven’t a bloody clue what he’s on about.


23. The Suburbs - Arcade Fire

The Suburbs is a rich eulogy of Arcade Fire’s formative years, and they’re lavished with a quadruple coat of nostalgic whimsy. It captures the excitement, the imagination, the boredom, the disappointment, the unbridled passion and austere disenchantment of childhood. It’s about how you could build a majestic empire from sticks and bricks in a day and then forgetting about it the next morning. It’s also about how this is gone, and gone forever. This naïve exuberance can never be reconciled, and it is just about as heartbreaking as anything. Right until the philanthropic, all-encompassing epic ‘Sprawl II’ sounds out Butler and Cos cavalcade of adolescence in a blistering, triumphant, and yes, elegiac march.


22. LP1 - FKA Twigs

FKA Twigs had been bubbling under the surface for much of 2013, the release of her single ‘Water Me’ had the internet converging in on itself, you know, because it was unprecedentedly good. Her first LP, suitably titled LP1, was anticipated so extremely that editors were complaining about the number of emails from staff writers begging to be the one to review it. So there was hype. Does it live up to it? More or less. Her uniquely pained vocals invoke an achingly vulnerable intimacy; she details sexual neuroses and catalogues romantic anguish. The album is essentially the diary of a dysfunctional teenager, but it works. Her quirkiness intoxicates rather than infuriates, a fascinating, haunting psychological study.


21. Trouble Will Find me - The National

One of The National’s greatest strengths is their consistency, their ability to produce pensive, emotionally charged, bitterly honest music ceaselessly. But on Trouble Will Find Me, which can sort of be construed as a break-up album, they out-do themselves. Whether it’s the Rocky surges of anger and frustration in ‘Sea of Love’ and ‘Graceless,’ or the achingly heartfelt ‘Heavenfaced’ and ‘I Need My Girl,’ Trouble Will Find Me is entirely regulated by turmoil of love. Each song is a singular appropriation of Berninger’s index of despondencies and successes, but ‘Pink Rabbits’ is possibly the best song Berninger has ever written, and one of the best break-up songs, well, ever.


Songs

60. Throw me in the River - The Smith Street Band


59. Wolf Dix Rd. - Iron Chic


58. Rapping 2 U - Das Racist


57. Wildest Moments - Jessie Ware


56. Anywhere But Here - Killer Mike


55. Phosphorescence - Tall Ships


54. Honey - Torres


53. We All Try - Frank Ocean


52. Yonkers - Tyler, the Creator


51. Kill For Love - Chromatics


50. Black Skinhead - Kanye West


49. Heavenly Father - Bon Iver


48. Use Me - Miguel


47. Destroy This Poem - Hallelujah the Hills

*No Video on Youtube. Listen to it though. Honestly it's good.

46. My Kind of Woman - Mac de Marco


45. There he Go - Schoolboy Q


44. I Belong in Your Arms - Chairlift


43. Ebony Sky - Young Fathers


42. Hannah Hunt - Vampire Weekend


41. California - EMA