I don't have a lot of words for my music habits this year. The paradox of my 2021 in music is that I'm listening to more music than ever, but I feel like I'm increasingly disconnected from the broader culture of music. I guess this is what all those old people have been warning me about for so long. Now, as an old person myself, I'm joining the chorus: [Abe Simpson voice] It could happen to you. But in all seriousness, really great year for music. Per usual, I missed out on more rap and metal than I'd like, and also, unusually, I feel like I'm starting the fall out of touch with modern jazz in favor of experimental and ambient music. Being old is weird.
As always, feel free to share your own favorites! That's the best part of year-end list-making anyway. Hope you enjoy my picks and maybe find something enjoyable that you didn't already know about!
Favorite Albums:
Hasn't lost a single bit of its power since I first heard it. A masterpiece whose nuances keep unfolding with every subsequent listen.
One of my best memories of 2021 is cruising around Knoxville in my car just blasting this album—and I hate driving, so that should tell you something about the transformative power of Afrique Victime. A great guitar album, a great mind-expanding album, a great album in general. I liked it a lot in the beginning, but it's grown even more positively on me since.
Remains a beautiful warm blanket of an album that I love to wrap myself in.
Otherwise known as plan-period-core. Listened to this untold times as I assembled Romeo and Juliet lessons. The wittiest spoken word with the coolest instrumentals.
A sprawling everything-and-the-kitchen-sink epic, evoking everything from indie pop to freak folk to prog to synth rock to glitch to X-Files theme music to baroque to goth to ambient... etc. It's transfixing and utterly unpredictable, particularly the brooding, subterranean second half of this double album. This is all bolstered by the surreal flights of fantasy that the lyrics take. A carnival funhouse of an album, only if that funhouse was also a cosmic rumination on life in the context of a grand, unknowable universe. I'm going for the big adjectives because otherwise, this album is pretty singular and hard to describe. More "indie" music like this, please.
On her Bandcamp page, Block describes the premise of this album as imagining the pandemic as a sci-fi movie, with the album being the score for that movie. She also says she was on mushrooms a lot in composing the record. That all makes sense to me. This is an album whose sweeping synth and mellotron landscapes feel cinematic in scope, while also being punctuated by strange, even psychedelic flourishes. It's gorgeous and mysterious and everything I like out of modern experimental music.
This is apparently a reinterpretation of a 2018 Gazelle Twin album called Pastoral, which I'm not familiar with. But apparently it's the same sort of thing: using a fusion of electronic music and English folk music to evoke a pre-Christian England that comments on the English national identity and specifically the kind of reactionary nationalism that has motivated Brexit and that sort of thing. It's a very cool, very witchy record. This album first came on my radar because of its ominous cover of the already ominous "Fire Leap" from the movie The Wicker Man, itself a commentary on England's modern identity in relation to its past. I'm not sure if "folk horror" can exist as a musical genre in addition to a film genre, but if so, Deep England is it.
I've always thought of William Maranci as a fun, funny, but ultimately kind of disposable mashup artist, nowhere near the ecstatic heights of Neil Cicierega; Maranci is much more willing to play to the cheap seats to get an easy laugh (see "Bohemian Wapsody" later in this post). There's nothing wrong with that; Maranci works hard to commit to every bit he cooks up, and the results are often amusing. That style just isn't usually sustainable over an album length. Until now, I guess. Meat Mountain feels like a major level up for Maranci, often approaching something closer to plunderphonics than straightforward sound-clownery. It's kind of majestic.
It's nowhere near as weird as 2019's Girl with Basket of Fruit, but what is? Instead, OH NO is a kind of collaborative celebration, though as usual; it may sound weird to describe a Xiu Xiu record as celebratory, and the music itself retains the band's vaguely unsettling, open-wound sound. But the production of the album is so full of guests that it feels warm and communal all the same. Each song is a duet, and the artists brought for those duets on form a veritable Who's Who of modern left-of-center indie (Sharon Van Etten, Twin Shadow, Liars, Chelsea Wolfe, etc.). Taken as a whole, the project and its host of voices become a tribute to the power of human connection. OH NO, am I talking about collective action again?
Rock music had it's most exciting year in recent memory with a wave of ambitious bands coming out of the UK, including Black Midi and Black Country, New Road. Squid was the one of those groups whose release I got into most (I feel like if I'd spent more time with the Black Midi album, it would be in this spot, though). Like a lot of the others, it's a post-punk album with an experimental edge—in this case, you've got some Talking-Heads-ish guitar work stretched into fascinating contortions as songs extend into 6, 7, or 8 minute epics under the sway of the hypnotically repetitive yelps of vocalist Ollie Judge. The strange, often abrasive edges of this record aren't for everyone, but I sure enjoyed it.
Great 2021 Songs Not On These Albums:
Adele: "To Be Loved"—I still need to spend more time (read: any time) with the new Adele album, but this one song has really wormed its way into my head. Probably Adele's most impressive vocal performance in her career in terms of how dynamic it is, as well as some of the most moving songwriting of her career, too. Her album has made some waves for being more sonically adventurous than her previous work, and in some ways, "To Be Loved" is pure convention: a weepy, classicist piano ballad about love. But this track also feels daring and comparatively experimental in terms of just how much it commits to its slow emotional crescendo—it is the *most* Adele song, and the fact that it's so saturated on the pure concept of delivering that, it feels paradoxically like something new.
Fleet Foxes: "Sunblind (Solstice Version)"—This was my favorite song off of last year's Fleet Foxes album, so of course it's the standout on the Fleet Foxes live album that came out late this year. The song feels cathartic even with just Pecknold and his guitar alone in a church.
Dylan Henner: "2nd Movement"—I'm really just putting it on here because it introduced me to Su Tissue's 1984 album Salon de Musique, which is a great, extremely hard-to-find record of minimalism. Henner basically recreates this piece from that album whole-cloth because, in the words of the liner notes of the album this came from, "Su’s work is too rare to warrant changing." Agreed.
illuminati hotties: "MMMOOOAAAAAYAYA"—A weird thing keeps happening where illuminati hotties songs sneak onto my year-end lists, despite me not listening to much illuminati hotties stuff otherwise. The full record didn't grab me, but I was addicted to this unhinged lead single. Channeling big Kim Gordon energy.
Eiko Ishibashi: "contentless dream"—I reviewed this as an album, but I'm counting it as a "song" here. Whatever. It's my blog. This track is still mesmerizing.
Lil Nas X: "MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name)"—Really, I'm just happy he's still having a good time with musical success and trolling the haters along the way. Good song, too.
Machine Listener: "Mineral Wells"—A subtle current in my 2021 listening was me discovering that I love analog synths now. In light of that, this track is 9 minutes of bliss: a cross between '90s trance and '70s kosmische musik that I just couldn't get enough of.
William Maranci: "Bohemian Wapsody"—Did you ever wonder what "WAP" would sound like if it were "Bohemian Rhapsody"? Me neither, but here's this. Puerile; also incredibly clever (like "WAP" itself).
Megan Thee Stallion: "Thot Shit"—Megan Thee Stallion takes a well-deserved victory lap of a year, the peak of which was this track, an exuberant declaration of absolute sovereignty over the hip-hop world. She's right; nobody on her tier of pop-rap even tries to match her serpentine rhymes and unstoppable flows—and why would you when you would face such withering contempt from her majesty at even having attempted to touch the untouchable? In some ways, she's the last bastion of genuine word-smithery in radio rap in an environment increasingly reliant on producers and vibes over lyrics, but in other ways, one gets the impression that she simply murdered all the other contenders by sheer force of personality.
Radiohead: "Follow Me Around"—Most of the previously unheard material from the new Kid A / Amnesiac reissue (Kid A Mnesia, natch) feels like the product of shuffling through the bottom of the near-empty bin leftover from the legendary recording sessions that birthed Radiohead's two early-millennium masterpieces: incomplete scraps of ideas, instrumental stems, unused production experiments, etc. The collection is mixed together in a pretty cool way that makes a good case for this archival material being released, but it didn't yield many actual songs. One of the few exceptions is "Follow Me Around," a for-real song previously only heard live. The studio version is a slinky little folk song, just Thom Yorke and an acoustic guitar. It's a rare treat to hear Radiohead in this form, and as a Radiohead fanatic (I think I'm probably fooling myself to call myself anything else at this point), I lapped it up.
Olivia Rodrigo: "good 4 u"—Seems like everyone found something to like about Olivia Rodrigo this year. This song reminds me of Paramore (it apparently reminds Rodrigo's team of Paramore, too), a band I was never heavily into but nonetheless have a certain nostalgia for. So I listened to this one a lot. I guess that's the level of sophistication on which I'm engaging with pop these days.
SAULT: "Bitter Streets"—I don't know much about SAULT, but their album 'NINE' was pretty cool this year. That album has a lot of modes, but this—hooky, groovily produced neo-soul—is my favorite from the record.
Sufjan Stevens & Angelo De Augustine: "Reach Out"—This is kind of a placeholder from the album it's from (A Beginner's Mind), which just barely didn't make the cut for my album top 10. This is just my favorite tune from the record. Allegedly inspired by Wings of Desire (still need to see that movie), but even having not seen the film, it's still profound. Too many great lyrics to quote them all, but "I come from conscience where there is no conjugation" might be my favorite single line of the year, from any song.
Taylor Swift: "All Too Well (10 Minute Version)"—Weird to think that I'm now enough of a Taylor Swift fan to be pandered to, but boy golly, did I love this pandering as much as every other slobbering fan who lapped up this long-mythologized, heretofore unheard "original" version of Taylor Swift's best song. Messier and meaner than the original, and you have to wonder if Jake Gyllenhaal deserves some sympathy for having millions of Swifties descend upon him for being a bad boyfriend in a relationship that lasted a couple of months a decade ago. But this song rocks. Best new line: "I was never good at telling jokes, but the punch line goes, 'I'll get older, but your lovers stay my age.'" Dead.
Tindersticks: "Man Alone (Can't Stop the Fadin')"—I dunno what this song is about (isolation? fading?), but it sure feels paranoid and jittery. Its 11 minutes are a journey through some really ominous loops and repetitions and what feels like found sounds. I haven't paid attention to Tindersticks since their '90s stuff, and this is certainly a cool change of pace from the exquisite, baroque compositions the band produced then.
Jessie Ware: "Please (12" Extended Mix)"—An unstoppable disco bop. What else is there to say?
Wet Leg: "Chaise Longue"—Wet Leg has only released four songs as of right now, and all of them have been bangers to one degree or another. But this, their first, is the bangest, for sure. It kinda feels like Wet Leg's litany of sonic and cultural '90s-indie references are a bit to calibrated to my tastes to trust, but if the music is this good, who am I to complain?
No comments:
Post a Comment