Showing posts with label Jenny Hval. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jenny Hval. Show all posts

Saturday, February 11, 2023

Favorite Music of 2022

If you missed my Favorite Movies of 2022 list, here it is! Now here's my companion music post. I usually do the music post first, but my scheduling is weird this year. I'm genuinely sorry for how long this took, but at least here we are now!

I don't have a lot to say up here. Per usual, my usual disclaimers: I don't listen to enough metal, I feel out of touch with whatever's going on with rap, I'm slowly turning into a jazz dad. I also haven't had as much time as usual to review music on my weekly posts, so when there's a chance to link to a review, I will, but that doesn't happen a ton.

Anyway, enjoy! As always, I view this as a conversation-starter, not a definitive list; there's always more to hear, and I'm on the prowl to hear it! So let me know what music you enjoyed in 2022.


Favorite Albums:

1. The Smile: A Light for Attracting Attention
Am I just nostalgic for Radiohead? Probably! This side project is the closest we're going to get to new Radiohead music for a while, and I ended up listening to it a ton in 2022. Probably not going to blow anyone's mind, but it's good music, y'all!

[Read original review]






2. Sudan Archives: Natural Brown Prom Queen
I remember hearing the debut album from Brittney Parks, aka Sudan Archives, a few years ago and thinking it was good but never really returning to it. I should probably go spend some more time with it, because Sudan Archives's second album dominating my listening habits for the last month of 2022. A diverse collection of pop styles bent into beguiling, surprising shapes by Parks's penchant for exploration, I just couldn't get enough of Natural Brown Prom Queen. It really scratched an itch for me, an itch I didn't realize I had, honestly. Probably the catchiest album that I listened to this past year.



3. Makaya McCraven: In These Times
I coined a term last year to describe Blue Lick's Hold On, Hold Fast: plan-period core, and while this funky, orchestral-tinged jazz record doesn't really have a lot sonically in common with Blue Lick's experimental skitter, this was definitely the album I kept flipping on as soon as the bell rang and my planning block full of grading or lesson prep began at school. I hope this doesn't come across as me saying that In These Times is "background music," because nothing could be further from the truth. It is, above all, a surprising album, relentlessly inventive, folding big band flourishes into jazz fusion grooves that juke into twinkling string flourishes or percussive digressions. Love McCraven, love this record.

4. Alvvays: Blue Rev
I spent a long time more or less addicted to "In Undertow," the hazed-out anthem from Alvvays's previous album, so it's no surprise I cottoned to their album this year. I don't think there's anything I'm quite as in love with as "In Undertow," but there are an awful lot of ear-wormy tracks lurking in this record. "Easy On Your Own?" is probably the one sticking with me most right now, but plenty of other tracks could overtake it. It feels like over the past 5-6 years, we've seen a lot of bands trying to revive '80s/'90s indie rock sounds, and this is basically doing that UK fuzzy twee pop thing, but that's cool because Alvvays has the melodic chops to prove they could have cut it back in the heyday of that style.


5. Mary Halvorson: Amaryllis
Mary Halvorson is one of the great 21st century jazz guitarists and overall jazz innovators in general, and 2022 was a great year for her. Amaryllis is my favorite of the duo of records she released in May (the other being the still excellent Belladonna): technical yet playful, mind-bending, weirdly catchy. Belladonna is the more obvious showcase for Halvorson as a guitarist, but the fuller sound of Amaryllis gives her a much bigger canvas. I love her ability to make me think, "Oh, I think I know where this is going" right before juking into some completely unprecedented direction.



6. Jenny Hval: Classic Objects
The obligatory Jenny Hval spot. It feels like I put her in here every year. Looking back at my archives, I guess that's not true, but it's comforting to imagine her music as a constant presence in my life. As long as she keeps delivering songs like "Jupiter," I don't imagine that changing any time soon.







7. William Basinski & Janet Schaefer: "...on reflection"
Supremely relaxing. A piano piece edited ("woven," as the liner notes say) around itself for 43 minutes. I just got done assuring you that In These Times isn't background music, but "...on reflection" absolutely is, intentionally so, and it's beautiful.








8. Seabrook Trio: In the Swarm
A terrific jazz trio prominently featuring a diddley bow, which gives this album's uneasy, proggy sound an oddly Americana flavor. It's a weird juxtaposition, but I like it a ton.









9. SAULT: Earth
This enigmatic British soul group released six(!!!) albums in 2022, all of them worth a listen, each of them an incredibly distinct sonic object, from the symphonic choral music of Air and its sequel to the sincere gospel of Untitled (God). My favorite of the bunch is Earth, probably because it sounds a lot like a Parliament-Funkadelic record, which is hard to pass up.





10. Beyoncé: RENAISSANCE
In the 6 years since Lemonade, I had kind of wondered if Beyoncé had decided to wind down into a quiet, safe legacy act, what with misguided Lion King tie-in movies and such. But nope, she's still got it. There are some absolute monster dance-floor tracks here; my favorite is the stunning, Donna-Summer-sampling closer "Summer Renaissance," but few tracks on this album aren't monsters. Much as I continue to find the "Beyoncé as divine-right monarch" thing off-putting in theory, I continue to find her music irresistible in practice. Just banger after club banger here. I dunno if the house revival that Beyoncé and Drake seemed to want to will into existence will happen, but if all we got out of that was this album, I'd say we still ended up on top.



Great 2022 Songs Not On These Albums:

Arcade Fire: "The Lightning I, II"—It was a bad year to be an Arcade Fire fan, for reasons both quotidian (the new album was kinda meh) to catastrophic (Win Butler is a serial and pretty unrepentant sex pest, it turns out). But this track, the lead single for the new album, really captured the old magic. The moment when it shifts from "Part I" to "Part II" is that same goosebump-inducing crescendo they've been mining their whole career, and dammit, it still works. I don't know how I'll feel about Arcade Fire going forward, post-allegations, but at least there's this unintentional swan song.

Björk: "Fossora"—A lot of the press surrounding the new Björk album described a "mushroom rave," and this is the most mushroom ravey on the record. It melds the woodwind-heavy arrangements of Utopia with heavy, almost industrial beats in a way that evokes dank underground caverns, and I'm very into it. Oddly catchy.

Father John Misty: "The Next 20th Century"—I had a hard time getting into the new Father John Misty album, which was, bizarrely, very swing-jazz heavy, but this song, the final track, blew me away, and not just because it's mid-song explosion of guitar noise is a change of pace from the rest of the record. It's a song that opens with the lyric, "The nazis that we hired for our wedding band played your anthem like I wasn't there for the father-daughter dance," and doesn't let up with that sort of eerie, politically uneasy juxtaposition. Captures perfectly the weary paranoia I feel about the future. The prospect of another 20th century is a dreadful, apocalyptic one, but at least we'll get another round of good music.

Floating Points: "Vocoder"—I'm not 100% sure if it actually is a vocoder that Sam Shepherd's using on this club banger, but whatever it is, that liquid metal texture it has is incredible.

HAIM: "Lost Track"—At least once a year, it seems, HAIM just casually release these earworms that simply won't let me go. I couldn't even begin to estimate how many times I flipped this song on because it was stuck in my head.

Kendrick Lamar: "Mother I Sober"—A lot of Kendrick's album this past year felt like a response to his landmark Pulitzer award: a lugubrious, over-cooked record anxious to say Big Things. It was okay. "Mother I Sober" is maybe the most lugubrious and over-cooked track on the album (either that or the honestly kind of unlistenable "We Cry Together"), but for whatever the reason, it's the song of his I've returned to most from this album cycle, even more so than the critical favorite "The Heart Part 5." Built from a solemn piano loop and a knotty, emotionally anguished narrative (even for Kendrick) surrounding cycles of abuse in Black communities, it's a tough listen, but I find it riveting and profoundly poignant. I'm sure for some the "I broke the cycle" conclusion of the song feels like a self-aggrandizing manifestation of the savior complex Kendrick Lamar (and his fandom) has wrestled with for years now, but I find its admission profoundly moving.

Maren Morris: "The Furthest Thing"—I've heard Maren Morris compared to Golden Hour-era Kasey Musgraves, and while that's kinda true in places, this is really the only track of hers that registers as fully indebted to the Musgraves masterpiece. Golden Hour is great, so of course this is great, too, and the song has that knack that a lot of Morris's work has, i.e. taking fairly archetypal material (in this case, missing a distant lover) and making it feel distinct to her. Some really great, understated piano from co-writer Greg Kurstin on here, too.

Caroline Polachek: "Billions"—I guess I should start getting into Caroline Polachek. She kinda fell off my radar after Chairlift disbanded, but this song is great.

Wadada Leo Smith, Henry Kaiser, & Alex Varty: "Pacifica Koral Reef"—I'm cheating by including this, because it's basically an album: a 55-minute track, the only track from the one-track album of the same name. But it's good! Wadada Leo Smith is still out there doing his thing, and I love him for it.

CC Sorensen: "Alter Destiny"—An intoxicating synth (I think?) loop mixed with what sound like field recordings of frogs and other nocturnal creatures. Great, vibey, mildly kosmische stuff.

Spoon: "The Hardest Cut"—We need to be careful not to underappreciate Spoon, because it's not nearly as easy as they make it seem to churn out lithe indie pop-rock year after year like they do. One of their bouncier tracks in recent memory.

Szun Waves: "New Universe"—Szun Waves' typical electronic pulse mixed with spiritual jazz sounds great in this standout track from their album Earth Patterns, which was my #11 album of the year (if that makes any difference to you).

Jessie Ware: "Free Yourself"—Jessie Ware is easily the best person doing this disco-revival thing that's been going on for the past few years, and this is easily one of her best songs in that vein.

 

Honorable Mention:

Alison Swafford: Sonnets—My buddy Alison made a great album this year! It's a loose concept album inspired by Shakespeare's sonnets, and you should go listen to it (and buy it!) if that sounds at all interesting to you. One of my most-listened-to albums of the year, and I would have put it in the top 10 if that didn't feel like a conflict of interest.

Friday, December 27, 2019

Favorite Music of 2019

Insert my usual caveat that I didn't listen to nearly enough metal or rap. I also probably listened to a disproportionate amount of jazz, hence marking my full transition into "Dad."

As with last year, there wasn't really an album that stood out to me as my definitive "favorite" in 2019, and in fact, the top 5 are probably interchangeable as far as preference goes. For the albums I reviewed, I linked to the original reviews. It's most of them.

Anyway, as you can tell, I don't really have much of a preamble to this one. Hope you like the picks. Enter list.

Favorite Albums:

1. Jenny Hval: The Practice of Love
Hypnotic, beautiful, conceptual, yet immediate. I've been a Jenny Hval fan for a while, so it was probably just a matter of time before she topped one of these lists.

[Read original review]







2. Holly Herndon: PROTO
"There’s a pervasive narrative of technology as dehumanizing," Holly Herndon says in the liner notes to PROTO. "We stand in contrast to that." Clearly; PROTO is an album created in collaboration with Spawn—an A.I. created by Herndon and her colleagues. It's far from the cold experiment that genesis implies, though, and as Herndon's notes indicate, it's an oddly tender and even spiritual work. Herdon's notes go on to compare this album to the Appalachian church music she experienced growing up, which is both an appropriate and a radical comparison to make: if the capacity for worship and wonder is part of what makes us human, what does that say about Spawn?

3. Ariana Grande: thank u, next
One of the best pop songs of the decade births one of the best pop albums of the decade. No surprise.

[Read original review]








4. Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah: Ancestral Recall
Scott has been one of the best, most forward-thinking jazz musicians out there for a while now, so when I say that Ancestral Recall is just more of the same, know that that's the highest praise.

[Read original review]







5. William Basinski: On Time Out of Time
Black hole space ambient drone—possibly the most exciting string of nouns I've ever written.

[Read original review]








6. Xiu Xiu: Girl with Basket of Fruit
Unless you're looking in danker corners than I am, Girl with Basket of Fruit is probably the weirdest album you'll hear all year. Keep on keeping on, Xiu Xiu.

[Read original review]







7. Thom Yorke: ANIMA
I've been a fan of pretty much all of Thom Yorke's solo output, so I didn't really connect to the "return to form" conversation a bunch of people were having around this album. But that doesn't mean it isn't still great, and it has that awesome Paul Thomas Anderson Netflix collaboration connected, too.

[Read original review]





8. Vampire Weekend: Father of the Bride
Bloated and inconsistent, sure, but try telling that to me when that "Harmony Hall" piano hits.

[Read original review]








9. Lana Del Rey: Norman Fucking Rockwell!
If we're all still around in 2049 or whatever, people will probably think of this album (either that or "Old Town Road") when they think about 2019 music, or at least 2019 music culture. The disaffected despair, the meta games, the cutting, allusive lyrics, the brutal intimacy cloaked in a distancing persona—this just feels like what music in 2019 is all about. It's pretty sad. It's also pretty great.

[Read original review]




10. Elder Ones: From Untruth
Probably the more formally challenging album on this list—an off-kilter, dissonant 47 minutes of avant-garde world music/jazz. But if you can get on its wavelength, it's powerful, and Amirtha Kidambi's intensity is infectious.

[Read original review]






Great 2019 Songs Not On These Albums:

Bobby Krlic: "Fire Temple"—From the Midsommar score. If you've seen Midsommar, then you know what happens here, and oh man. If you haven't seen the movie, well, that's fine. It's still one of the most stunning pieces of music you'll hear all year.

Bruce Springsteen: "Hello Sunshine"—Bruce was pretty open about his struggles with depression on his autobiography a couple years back, and "Hello Sunshine" feels like an extension of that honesty. "You know I always liked that empty road," he sings, "No place to be and miles to go." Springsteen often sings in characters, but this is maybe about as personal as The Boss has ever gotten.

Carly Rae Jepsen: "Now That I Found You"—An absolutely buoyant pop gem from CRJ. So you know, business as usual.

Cykada: "Third Eye Thunder"—Despite being ostensibly jazz, this is one of the proggiest tracks I heard all year. Cykada's self-titled album was #11 on my list, and it's another great record from the London jazz scene.

Don Campbell: "All Too Well"—Covering a song as personal and beloved as Taylor Swift's best song is a tall order, but Don Campbell manages it by turning it into a sort of emo anthem. Taylor Swift has always been a couple steps from being an emo artist herself, so it works great.

Flying Lotus: "Fire Is Coming" (feat. David Lynch)—About as freaky as you'd want a David Lynch collaboration to be.

HAIM: "Summer Girl"—If my pattern tracks, I'll be lukewarm on the next HAIM album when it comes out, even after being over-the-moon about its lead single. But whatever; I've worn this magical, warm, slinky little track out in the months since its release, and its Paul-Thomas-Anderson-directed music video is probably my favorite of the year.

Lil Nas X: "Old Town Road" (feat. Billy Ray Cyrus)—Undeniable. The two biggest pop songs of the year were off-format oddities by internet weirdos, and this is pretty much the only thing about the wider world of 2019 that made me feel hope.

Margo Price: "Cocaine Cowboy" (live on Jimmy Kimmel Live!)—"Cocaine Cowboys" came off Margo Price's 2017 record All American Made, where it's a brisk little blues stomp. But when Price performed it live on Kimmel's show, it became a Rolling-Stones-esque jam, the "Can't You Hear Me Knocking" of country music, if you will, and the result is some of the best music of Price's career.

Matmos: "Silicone Gel Implant"—Experimental duo Matmos is known for high-concept playfulness, and their 2019 album Plastic Anniversary is no different, an entire record crafted from sound samples made with plastic. This is my favorite track off that record, the most danceable, fun few minutes on the album.

Octo Octa: "I Need You"—I first listened to this warm, spacious electronic track late at night in the hospital after my son was born, which, as far as I'm concerned, is the best place to hear it. Hasn't left me since.

Powder: "New Tribe"—I also heard this in the hospital after my son's birth. It's the polar opposite of "I Need You": animated by an ominous, machine-like drive. It's just as infectious, though.

Sharon Van Etten: "Comeback Kid"—Van Etten pivots from a folksy sad sack to an anthemic sad sack. I can dig it.

Taylor Swift: "Cruel Summer"—The best purely pop moment on Swift's new album. In fact, the best moment in general.

Wilco: "Love Is Everywhere (Beware)"—Typical Wilco lyrics of oblique paranoia in relief against bright folk music. This elder-statesman stage of Wilco's career is a lot more complex than people are willing to give it credit for, and this track is a great example of that. It also has that effervescent guitar refrain.

Sunday, September 22, 2019

Mini Reviews for September 16-22, 2019

Finally got to get to the theater to see a new release! First time in a while!

Movies

Ad Astra (2019)
This movie is about space exploration and the search for extra-terrestrial life, so you know I'm there. But also, it's about daddy issues—which at first I was like, "Ehh, I dunno, my dad's alright" but then the movie went, "Oh, we meant your heavenly daddy, too," and then I was back onboard. I kind of wish this movie was weirder than it is (it doesn't have to be 2001, but when you're making a movie about the Meaning of Life, I dunno, maybe untuck your shirt just a little), but it ticks a lot of my boxes and in a pretty convincing way, too. The movie's depiction of our solar system is gorgeous (the orange lights and claustrophobic spaces on Mars are particularly great), and the depiction of a near-future space-traveling society as one ravaged by both corporate capitalism and international violence over the contested ownership of space resources is one of the more (depressingly) plausible takes on what space travel will actually look like in the next century that I've seen in a movie. And for a space movie in the lineage of something like 2001, it's curiously fascinated by politics—we always get someone's rank/position alongside their name when we're introduced to them, and the way that power is distributed among these ranks is a quiet but consistent thread throughout. I wouldn't say that 2019 has been a great year for movies in general, but the fact that we've gotten two major, ideas-driven auteurist space films in the past few months (I usually have to wait years between these things!) makes me feel a little better about it. Grade: B+

Hustlers (2019)
A lot of people have tried to remake Goodfellas, including Martin Scorsese himself (twice!), but I don't think any of those movies have gotten quite what makes this genre—we can call it a genre now that there are like a dozen movies doing this, right?—tick as well as Hustlers does. Having the 2008 financial crisis be the dividing line between the golden years and the dark years in the same way that the introduction of hard drugs in Goodfellas and the 1980s in general in Boogie Nights are is a stroke of structural/thematic genius, and grounding this movie in milieu of 1. women 2. of color who are 3. sex workers plants Hustlers in that lived-in, sociopolitical sense of operating within the experiences of a marginalized people that hangs so heavily over the early parts of Goodfellas (in fact, that sense is even stronger here)—something that Wolf of Wall Street, the other Goodfellas riff on 2008, sorely lacked and that propels an already extraordinarily entertaining film toward greatness in Hustlers's case. It doesn't *quite* get there, largely due to a few glaringly bad bits of dialogue in this generally strong screenplay—the final line of the movie is almost embarrassing in how much it bends over backwards to unnecessarily explain the film's themes—but this movie is very good nonetheless, buoyed by a terrific cast (that is, to a subtly devastating effect, basically halfed once 2008 rolls around) and some of the best editing and camerawork I've seen in years. This will in all likelihood be the best mainstream American studio movie of the year, so get it while it's hot, folks. Grade: A-

The Standoff at Sparrow Creek (2018)
A decently directed thriller that has an admirable patience—basically Reservoir Dogs without the smirking irony and meta references, which is maybe missing the point of Reservoir Dogs, though I'm open to this premise being a good idea. But unlike Reservoir Dogs, the screenplay is dumb, and after a while, that accumulates into some pretty face-palming twists in the back half of the movie. Also, given that the movie does not mention ideology or racism or literally anything specific to white supremacy, I can't think of a single reason why this movie had to be centered on a far-right militia group other than just sheer shock value. So edgy. Grade: C+



Frankenweenie (2012)
Completely whitebread comfort food, and Burton is basically on autopilot here—Danny Elfman, too (he almost quotes his own Batman theme, like, a lot here). But it's autopilot set to the configurations of their good output, and familiar or not, it's an entirely pleasant ride. Probably the most conventionally successful of Burton's 2010s output? Given his 2010s output, that sounds like a backhanded compliment, but I really did enjoy this. Grade: B+






Wanda (1970)
The movie opens with the image of a mountainside completely turned to coal dust by the hulk of industry, and it doesn't really get any cheerier from there on out. When we first see the titular Wanda (played note-perfect by writer/director Barbara Loden herself), she's listlessly abandoning her marriage, which might tempt viewers to take an antagonistic stance toward her if the movie didn't make so clear just how mind-numbingly plain her life is, a life caged by those coal mines and desolated mountains. And in no time after that, Wanda is thrown into situation after situation that show just how little agency and control she has—none of which are intended to excuse her behavior so much as it is to contextualize it within the larger purgatory of mundane lower-middle-class existence on the fringes of American society. It's relentlessly unsentimental—and, to that end, a little meandering at times until it arrives upon its bank robbery finale—but we could do with de-sentimentalizing rural American life. Grade: B+

The Hobbit (1977)
At least 50% of this movie looks pretty shoddy: the character designs for the dwarfs are not great, for example, and a lot of this movie could have used a few more animated frames per second. The music is pretty goofy, too, and though the same must be said of many of Tolkien's original songs, those at least didn't have '70s soft-rock folk for backing instrumentation. That said, there are also some terrific pieces here, including some great character designs for Smaug and Gandalf (also, John Huston voicing Gandalf is wholly inspired) as well as consistently incredible watercolor-inflected backgrounds—created by a bunch of future-Studio Ghibli animators, so of course. It's not exactly a functional movie or even a great adaptation of its source (whose episodic structure makes it tougher to adapt to film than I think a lot of people give it credit for), but it's certainly not bad. Grade: B-

Music

Jenny Hval - The Practice of Love (2019)
The Norwegian singer-songwriter and experimentalist returns for what's probably her most immediate album in a decade: a soothing, trance-indebted collection of songs that form a concept album about Love—a conceptual far cry from the same artist's work a few years ago about menstruation and vampires. But typical of Hval, her take on Love isn't programmatic or thinly cliché in the least; this is an album obsessed not with romanticized love as some sort of transcendental concept but more with the strange corners of mundane existence within love, a complicated treatise that's both philosophically weighty and also compellingly banal. And the music itself, sounding like Hval's take on what Grimes was doing on Visions, is hypnotic and lovely. One of my favorite albums of the year so far. Grade: A-

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Mini-Reviews for July 16 - 22, 2018

Only a handful of non-Disney movies this week. Almost done with Disney, y'all. Hang in there.

Movies

Won't You Be My Neighbor (2018)
As a documentary, there's nothing particularly exemplary about Won't You Be My Neighbor? and its mix of historical footage and talking head interviews. Even as an archive of Mr. Roger's craft and demeanor, it's not really anything special, as the bulk of its content was already told in Tom Junod's 1998 Esquire profile on the man (Junod himself is one of the documentary's talking heads). But the point of the movie isn't really to be informative—I mean, that's there, and it's fine, but that's not why people are reacting to this as strongly as they are, or why I did either (and based on the sheer number of people who have told me throughout my life that Mr. Roger's Neighborhood is boring, I imagine people aren't really that interested in Fred Rogers, when you get right down to it). No, above all, Won't You Be My Neighbor? is a meditation on kindness and human dignity, and in our particular cultural moment that makes very little time for kindness or meditation, there's real power in that project, to be invited into a dark room and asked for an hour and a half just to think about the worth of human beings through the avatar of an exceptionally good man. There are precious few icons in modern society—icons in the old religious sense—and even fewer of them ask us to be as introspective as Fred Rogers does. It doesn't really matter if this movie will change the world (as its most enthusiastic proponents claim) or not. There's just something fundamentally therapeutic about what this movie invites us to participate in, and for goodness sake, that's valuable. Grade: A-

Leave No Trace (2018)
Sometimes, you just have to be alone. You step into a car or an empty room or a closet and feel the isolation surround you like a blanket, no one but you and your thoughts and the quiet ticking forward of the emptiness around you. More than any other movie I've ever seen, Leave No Trace understands both the joy and the self-destructiveness of this impulse, the tension between the fundamental sociability of the human race and the reality of just how excruciating it can get to be surrounded by other humans, even humans you love. The movie dramatizes this tension wonderfully and heartbreakingly through the relationship of a girl and her father, the contours of their dynamic astoundingly mapped out by the performances of Thomasin McKenzie and Ben Foster. That Foster is out-acted by McKenzie is less an evaluation of his performance than a testament to the stunning greatness of Thomasin's, but even so, both contribute essential pieces to the movie's sharp and emotive treatise on community, modernity, and family. Grade: A-

You Were Never Really Here (2017)
The movie never coheres into a functional whole (especially once it becomes apparent that this is more or less a genre exercise), but there are some magnificent pieces: Jonny Greenwood's score, the water burial scene, the security-camera fight/massacre scene. I don't know that Joaquin Phoenix's character—either through his performance or through the film's screenplay—merits quite the amount of sympathy the movie seems to want me to feel for him, and the implications that he may be suffering from PTSD from his military deployment sometimes seem like cheap justifications for what is a much, much ethically thornier character than just that. Grade: B



Mo' Better Blues (1990)
The plot just keeps ambling on and on in this aimless fashion, like a bad jazz musician trying to improvise. But everything else about the movie—the music, the acting (Denzel in his peak years, y'all!), the cinematography (and the lighting, my goodness the the lighting is amazing and colorful and great)—is just so good that it almost makes up for it. The years-spanning sequence near the end of the film, scored by John Coltrane's "Acknowledgement," is incredible. But golly, you have to wade through some tedious two hours of go-nowhere plot to get there. Grade: B-




Books


The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories by Angela Carter (1979)
Taking all ten stories as a whole, it's easy to see the formula in Carter's modernist retellings of fairy tales: transpose them into a modern context, play up the sexual subtext (and make it no longer subtextual but merely textual), subvert the roles that women play in the stories. And at times, this formula wears thin—I'm thinking of the "Beauty and the Beast" analog, "The Courtship of Mr. Lyon," and the "Puss-in-Boots" retelling. But it's still a noble project, and when Carter's at the top of her game—as she is in the title story's revision of "Bluebeard" and the "Little Red Riding Hood"-connected "The Company of Wolves"—the results are stunning. Grade: B



Music


Jenny Hval - The Long Sleep EP (2018)
The last we heard from Jenny Hval, that Norwegian madame of weird and wonderful music, was her 2016 album Blood Bitch, a prickly concept album about menstruation and gender roles. 2018 finds her in a better mood. The Long Sleep's 23 minutes are considerably less fractured and avant-garde than Blood Bitch—it ends, after all, with Hval saying softly into the microphone, "I just want to say thank you; I love you" over a soundscape of strings and soft guitar noise. It's beautiful in all the ways that Blood Bitch was ugly, but don't take that to mean a slackening of Hval's aesthetic; she remains fascinatingly post-structural, and her compositions are still delightfully odd and unexpected, from the hypnotic chant of "The Dreamer Is Everyone in Her Dream" to the nearly 11-minute ambient drone of the title track. The Long Sleep is as beguiling as any music put out in 2018, and I've probably listened to it more than any other single release this year. Grade: A-

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

Favorite Music of 2016

2016 has been a rough year by most metrics, and 2017 isn't looking to be much better. But one thing we can take comfort in is that, regardless of circumstance, the arts reminded us of beauty and pain and awe with the firm insistence that has characterized them since time immemorial. The arts are the distillation of the human tenacity into objects, be they digital or plastic or vinyl, and 2016 music was in no short supply of striking and unshakeable human objects. Below, you can find catalogued the ones that struck me the most, although even more than usual, culling this list down to just ten was a mighty challenge.

My usual blind spots persist, although they are shrinking: metal has no presence on this list and occupied a pretty narrow band of my total listening habits in 2016, and for such a rich year in hip-hop releases, my listening probably did not give the genre what it deserved. But it is what it is, and what this is is my favorite albums and songs from the year. Enjoy!

[Note: I started weekly reviews this year, so in the interest of not being redundant, if I had reviewed one of these albums this year, I've simply linked to the review page rather than create a new blurb.]

Favorite Albums:

1. David Bowie: Blackstar
We lost so many artists in 2016 that it's frightening to even begin to count them, but losing Bowie really, really stung, all the more so because Bowie's music felt more alive than it had in a decade at least. Blackstar ranks among the late legend's masterpieces, and what—in that blissful weekend that separated the release of this album from the man's death—initially seemed to be one of Bowie's strangest works soon snapped into focus as one of his most openly personal. Scratch that: not just one of his most personal—one of the most personal albums of all time. "You know I'll be free, just like that bluebird," he sings. "Ain't that just like me?" Exactly like David Bowie: brilliant.


2. Esperanza Spalding: Emily's D+Evolution


[Read original review here]









3. Radiohead: A Moon Shaped Pool


[Read original review here]










4. Kendrick Lamar: untitled unmastered


[Read original review here]









5. Beyoncé: Lemonade


[Read original review here]









6. Vijay Iyer & Wadada Leo Smith: A Cosmic Rhythm with Each Stroke


[Read original review here]









7. Shearwater: Jet Plane and Oxbow


[Read original review here]










8. Margo Price: Midwest Farmer's Daughter


[Read original review here]










9. Regina Spektor: Remember Us to Life


[Read original review here]










10. Jenny Hval: Blood Bitch


[Read original review here]









Great 2016 Songs Not On These Albums:

Black Mountain: "Mothers of the Sun"—Black Mountain's 2016 album, IV, evokes Black Sabbath all over the place, but this opening track is probably the Sabbathiest, a grimy, relentless march of classic-rock-style heavy metal with a killer riff. It's apologetically nostalgic; it's also apologetically awesome.

Carly Rae Jepsen: "Cry"— "He never wants to strip down to his feelings/He never wants to kiss and close his eyes" is the sort of is-it-cheesy-or-well-observed line that has become Carly Rae's bread and butter. But the real charm here is the crystalline production, which gives the song the rich, faux-'80s sound that's become the 2010s bread and butter.

Car Seat Headrest: "Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales"—The dirty secret of this "songs" section is that a lot of these picks are just chances for me to acknowledge albums that might have made the Top 10 if I had had a chance to spend more time with them. In the case of Car Seat Headrest's Teens of Denial, you've got a batch of literate, prickly-sweet indie rock songs of the variety that we might have heard from Pavement had they kept in the direction they started with on Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. Although to be precise, this pick, the standout "Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales," sounds a lot more Weezer-y. Which is cool, too. Whatever the case, it's a fantastic song from an album I really need to hear more from.

Chance the Rapper (feat. T-Pain, Kirk Franklin, Eryn Allen Kane, Noname): "Finish Line"—Chance the Rapper spun gold out of the "gospel rap" sound that both he and Kanye touted this year. Of the two, Chance wins the gospel rap crown by a country mile, and this is exhibit A.

Brian Eno: "Fickle Sun (iii) I'm Set Free"—I'm not sure if this Velvet Underground cover makes sense outside of the context of its place as the closer for Brian Eno's solid album from early in 2016. But as a climax to a classically spacey Eno record, it's sublime.

INGA: "Volunteered Slavery"—I don't even know where I found this song. It was some random Bandcamp download. But it's a great little piece of modern jazzy something or other.

Kamaiyah: "I'm On"—A great rags-to-riches brag. Kamaiyah is one of several promising young voices to ascend the hip-hop ladder recently, and I'm all for that. She's a tremendously captivating MC.

Maps Need Reading: "Altar Ego"—Local Knoxville band spot here. Maps Need Reading released their debut album this year, and this 12-minute opus is far and away the best song on it. Recalling bits of Rush and Genesis and Pink Floyd while still establishing its own sonic identity, "Altar Ego" is fantastic justification of Maps Need Reading's central spot in Knoxville's prog scene.

M83: "Solitude"—M83's album Junk was dismissed as kitschy and hollow. I didn't spend enough time with it to know if that's true (and to be honest, I generally don't love M83 stuff to begin with), but "Solitude," with its majestic, cinematic sweep, is breathtaking. 

Noname: "Yesterday"—Noname just makes me smile. There's a joint humility and verve to her delivery that makes her music irresistible to me, and no more so is this true than in the opening track to her excellent 2016 mixtape, Telefone. Not that Chance is going anywhere, but Noname is the perfect inheritor to his throne as the feel-good conscious rapper of his era. Look her up if you haven't already.

PJ Harvey: "The Wheel"—A furious, scorched-earth rocker from one of alt-rock's perennial earth-scorchers. Harvey's foray into international social consciousness was kind of hit-and-miss this year, but this song, focusing on a small, almost inconsequential scene of photos fading in sunlight, is a powerful bit of Kosovo metonymy.

Preoccupations: "Degraded"—The band formerly known as "Viet Cong" lost little in the voyage from one name to the next. "Degraded" delivers the same characteristically aggressive post-punk you've come to expect from the band's debut last year, this time zeroing in a bit more intently on Joy Division as an influence.

Savages: "Evil"—And speaking of aggressive post-punk, get a load of Savages.

Solange: "Cranes in the Sky"—This is another "want to spend more time with the album" pick. Those harmonies! That chorus! It's a beautiful song every bit the equal to (and maybe even surpassing) the music put out by that other Knowles woman this year.

Kanye West: "Saint Pablo"—Even by the scattered logic of contemporary Kanye releases, The Life of Pablo was an especially scattered album, but in the wreckage of what has turned out to be an unfortunately unfortunate 2016 for Ye, we can still pick out the jewels, and "Saint Pablo" is chief among them. In light of what the last few months of the year looked like for Kanye, "This generation's closest thing to Einstein/So don't worry about me, I'm fine" are a pair of lines that have taken on perhaps more meaning than the man himself ever intended, but if anything, West's music only becomes richer through the lens of the conflict between author and audience.

White Stag: "Mothouse"—More Knoxville pride. Of the two Knox prog bands represented here, White Stag is the clear visionary, infusing their 10-minute suites with ambient and black metal textures that place them on the vanguard of what's looking to be an exciting 2017 breakthrough.

Wilco: "We Aren't the World (Safety Girl)"—Modern-day Wilco is a band of two ambitions: the scrappy, noisy rock of 2015's Star Wars and the scrappy, finger-picking rock of 2016's Schmilco. Both versions feel intermittently tossed-off and brilliant, and I honestly prefer the noisier side of the band. But there's still lots to love about the quieter, more acoustic stylings, as evidenced by the sweet sarcasms of "We Aren't the World (Safety Girl)." "Let's pretend we're hundred-dollar bills, like so, and complain every day there's a spider in my soup," Tweedy sings, "Tired of my opinions like everybody else, is that so?" It's some of his best songwriting in recent years, and given how I don't at all agree with the meme of Wilco being in decline, that's saying something.