Favorite Music of 2014

It's list-making time again in the pop culture world! Barring possible album releases from Kendrick Lamar and Chance the Rapper, I don't think I'll listen to much more new music this year, so hopefully this list will remain accurate for the remaining few weeks of December.

I won't weigh this post down with a long preamble this time around (does anyone read those anyway?). As always, I'd love to hear your own ideas about the year's best music—what did I miss? What did I like that you didn't? Let me know! Anyway, here's the list.

Favorite Albums:

1. Sun Kil Moon: Benji
There's a real chance that Benji is the most human record I've ever heard. I can only imagine that sentence sounding like hyperbole to someone who hasn't listened to the album, because with Benji, Mark Kozelek has captured the sprawling messiness, the pain, hilarity, and complexity of human nature with a depth that's rarely been achieved before—think John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band; In Utero; The Wall. This album would be a masterpiece if its only song were "I Watched the Film The Song Remains the Same," an opus that ranks among the all-time great singer-songwriter moments. But that's not it; there are eleven in total, all in the same spirit of confession and compassion.

2. St. Vincent: St. Vincent
Let's get this out of the way first: St. Vincent is not as good as Strange Mercy. It's not nearly so sonically adventurous, it's thematically looser, and it's the first time in Annie Clark's career that a new release hasn't signaled a significant expansion of her sound. All in all, St. Vincent is a lateral move. But here's the thing about lateral moves: their laterality doesn't matter one bit when they're as confident, winsome, and blisteringly virtuosic as St. Vincent's is. Clark's not just the guitar wizard we've seen in the past—she's a master songsmith whose pop precision is formidable enough to make even the weirdest effects sound tightly melodic. Just ask "Birth in Reverse."

3. The War on Drugs: Lost in the Dream
A large part of the pleasure of Lost in the Dream is the rather dorky gratification of seeing a good band turn into a great one. The War on Drugs have taken an enormous leap in quality from their previous album, Slave Ambient, and it's one of those rare moments that geeks like me relish—Bleach to Nevermind, The E Street Shuffle to Born to Run. With this one, the War on Drugs have taken their Dylan/Springsteen/Dire Straits influences and crafted them into the fullest realization of their potential, a sound that's both huge and personal. For evidence, look no further than "Red Eyes," which is one of the best "broken heroes on a last-chance power drive" songs the Boss never penned.

4. Against Me!: Transgender Dysphoria Blues

The problem I have with a lot of punk is that it tends to be a little one-note, emotionally. Aggression and devil-may-care self-righteousness  can only go so far before they wear thin, so thankfully this latest album from Against Me! is as rich as any album in any genre this year. Lead member Laura Jane Grace sings about the struggles of coming out as a transgendered woman with intensity, confusion, hurt, and vulnerability. "You want them to notice the ragged ends of your summer dress," she sings on the opening title track, and it's a sentiment so sweet that the revelation that "they just see a faggot" hits all the more heartbreakingly.

5. Spoon: They Want My Soul

Spoon is a weird band to write about. On the one hand, there's almost nothing to say besides, "Well, they've made another great album." On the other hand, as I've just proven right now, that unremarkable consistency actually is quite remarkable. So, here it goes: they've made another great album. There's nothing here that's significantly different from the band's previous output (though "Outlier" seems to have picked up a few cues from singer/guitarist Britt Daniel's Divine Fits side project), but the album also has that wonderful Spoonian quality of sounding both familiar and fresh. In this humble blogger's opinion, Spoon's rarely been better.

6. Ex Hex: Rips
I'm not going to say that guitar rock is extinct or even that it's rare (heck, at least half of the albums on this list could easily be considered guitar rock), but it's still a distinct pleasure to encounter a record rocking as unquestionably hard as this one. There's a straightforward, upbeat energy to Rips that you hear less and less these days in riff-heavy music, making it a record that actually rocks without being tortured or ironic (something that actually is rare). That's not to say that Rips is emotionally simple or anything like that—songs like "I Don't Wanna Lose" and "War Paint" contribute plenty of complexity—but it's also brash and loud and fast and unapologetically fun. Party on, ladies! 


7. Badbadnotgood: III
Full disclosure: I've no idea what's going on in the jazz world these days. The most recent full-on jazz album I have any familiarity with is Brad Mehldau's Elegiac Cycle from 1999, and even that one's a throwback, as I understand it. Fuller disclosure: I've little idea of what's ever been going on in the jazz world; I've listened to plenty, but if you want me to spout definitions or trace its history Ken-Burns style, I'll have to see myself out. What I do know is Badbadnotgood makes excellent music. III is less rambunctious than its predecessor (I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the Kanye West and My Bloody Valentine covers), but it's also BBNG's most sophisticated, atmospheric work yet. 

8. tUnE-yArDs: Nikki Nack
I never listened to tUnE-yArDs' (try typing that five times fast!) debut, but if this one's any indication, I need to seek it out pronto. Nikki Nack's a phenomenal work of progressive traditionalism, a purely pop album at heart thrown cockeyed by a terrifically fun infusion of the weird. Polyrhythms surround flourishes of psychedelia and chants, electronic whistles swoop in and out of the mix, and a "Modest Proposal"-esque skit takes a 1.5 minute break from melody and song structure altogether. And yet, somehow, none of this stops "Water Fountain" and "Real Thing" from being among the most infectious songs of the year. A high-wire act, but tUnE-yArDs pull it off gloriously.

9. White Hinterland: Baby

In the year of St. Vincent, it's tempting to label Baby as simply "indie art pop that isn't as good as St. Vincent," but of course that's not fair. This is a work with way more heart than Annie Clark has ever displayed; for all of St. Vincent's virtues, there's no getting around that moniker's iciness. While White Hinterland certainly shares some of that iciness around the edges, it also bares a sloppy, beating core—foremost is the harrowing title track, where singer Casey Dienel cries raggedly, "Is this my weakness?" over and over, even when the instruments falls away. It's about as emotionally naked as they come.

10. U2: Songs of Innocence
In my book, it's U2's strongest album since at least All That You Can't Leave Behind, and I say that as someone who, to varying degrees, likes How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb and (especially) No Line on the Horizon. Like those last two albums, Innocence slumps in its middle third; unlike those albums, though, there's an urgency and lyrical complexity that recalls the band's early post-punk years by way of their '90s darkness. The latter stages of the record shine in particular with their War-meets-Pop fervor. And I'll be darned if "The Troubles" isn't one of the best album closers of the year.



10 Great Songs Not on These Albums:

Chance the Rapper & the Social Experiment: "Wonderful Everyday: Arthur"—Remember Arthur? The suspiciously humanoid aardvark who taught us kids to laugh and play and get along with each other every weekday on PBS, 4/3 Central? Well, Chance the Rapper turned that show's theme into a soulful concert staple this year, and the results are lovely. Bonus nostalgia points for folks like me who grew up with the show.

Coldplay: "Magic"—Ghost Stories isn't my favorite Coldplay album, but I appreciate the quieter approach after the booming, often garish Mylo Xyloto. "Magic" is the best recipient of that approach. The melody blooms beautifully from the initially sparse production, and by the time Chris Martin's singing falsetto, it's Coldplay perfection.

Father John Misty: "Bored in the USA"—Despite the Springsteen allusion of the title, this song is most indebted to the singer-songwriters of the '70s, only a version of those '70s icons that recognizes how self-obsessed and solipsistic they could be. It's dark and funny and sad, and it's got me pumped for the full album next year.

Ariana Grande: "Problem (feat. Iggy Azalea)"—By the end of the summer, I was at risk of getting sick of this song. Thankfully, Meghan Trainor swooped in with a song of her own for me to get sick of, and here I am now, still digging "Problem." The Iggy verse still sucks, but the rest is great pop and a wonderful showcase for Ariana Grande's vocal flexibility. Her full-length is pretty good, too, if any of y'all are looking for more of that four-octave range.

Mick Jenkins: "Jazz"—So, this song's from Mick Jenkins's mixtape The Water[s], which is a concept album about (you guessed it) water. It's kind of goofy in theory, but in practice it's a striking listen that does some cool thematic work with its central concept. I've heard it derogatorily described as "honors student rap," and that's definitely true of some of the album's more heavy-handed moments. But then you get songs like this, which, with its namedropping of John Coltrane and Charles Mingus, is definitely honors-y but also completely fresh in its comparison between hip-hop culture and jazz culture. Plus, the jazzy production used throughout the album is never more appropriate than it is here.

Kendrick Lamar: "i"—Kendrick Lamar songs have a way of shifting meaning when placed in the context of their albums (ever try listening to "Backseat Freestyle" without the rest of Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City?), so who knows what this track will sound like once the rest of the album is released. Right now, though, it's an uncharacteristically upbeat track, a moment of optimism and self-actualization in the face of disenfranchisement that, after the depths plumbed by his previous album, feels rather beautiful and redemptive. Plus, Kendrick's instrumentation doesn't get much more lush than it is here.

Taylor Swift: "Shake It Off"—When this song first dropped, there was this weird thing among some critic types where they called it a mortal error of Swift's, one that perhaps signaled the end of her pop dominance. 2.5 million sales of 1989 later, I think we can all agree that those critics were dead wrong. Besides, c'mon, this song's awesome.

Sharon Van Etten: "Your Love Is Killing Me"—Van Etten is usually an intense presence on her albums, but before this year, I sure didn't think she had this level of intensity in her. It's a monster track, six minutes of self-effacing fury that hits its climax early and somehow keeps building.

Yellow Ostrich: "Shades"—Unfortunately, Yellow Ostrich is no more; the band dissolved a near the end of the fall. I've been following these guys from their DIY Bandcamp days, and I'm sad to see them go. However, they did leave a very good swansong in this year's Cosmos, and "Shades," with its Krautrock-on-speed riffage, is a highlight. It's Yellow Ostrich at their off-beat best, throwing in some new-found (an, as it turns out, short-lived) guitar rock chops for flavor.

Thom Yorke: "Nose Grows Some"—The more Thom Yorke drops solo material, the more it becomes apparent that, for all Yorke's ostentatious frontmanship, the magic of Radiohead is built on the alchemy of all five band members in collaboration, not just the manic genius of the singer/lyricist. That being said, Thom's BitTorrent-released album this year, Tomorrow's Modern Boxes, is pretty strong stuff, and this song's the strongest of the bunch. It's a piece that approaches the sensuality and sublimity of The King of Limbs while still maintaining the austerity of Yorke's driving aesthetic, flowing organically from the song suite that closes the album.