In Search of the Albums of 2009, part one

So, has it been a vintage year for new music? If so - and I get the impression that it might have been - I haven't really noticed, and the fault is my own. Well, not entirely - the lack of a working laptop (a problem remedied yesterday) has hamstrung my ability to seek out new stuff; meanwhile, a lack of money means that actually buying music has become an impossibility. Which is a shame: plenty of what has been released has been of interest to me, be it new releases from some of my favourite artists (such as Daniel Johnston, The Fiery Furnaces, The Mountain Goats, Sonic Youth and Wilco) or debut long-players from much-touted bands (Cymbals Eat Guitars, Girls, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, The xx) and a great deal besides. Don't get me wrong, I've heard many of these albums. They just haven't become familiar to me, in the way that many of them should have. So over the Christmas period and beyond, I've been remedying this problem.

Since some of these capsule reviews are my first (or second, or third) impressions, I might choose to offer fuller reviews at a later date, because some of these albums might be growers. Time will tell.

On that note, though, time has done nothing to improve my opinion of Eskimo Snow, possibly the biggest disappointment of the year (much as I hate to say that). First song "These Hands" - what with its plaintive keys and fantastic opening lines ("I wear the customary clothes of my time/Like Jesus did, with no reason not to die") - promises much, but the album never truly takes off, consistently passing the listener by without leaving much of an impression. Comprising of songs mostly written around the time of Alopecia, most reviewers have been of the opinion that a full release was a mistake. I'd echo that sentiment - it might (just about) have made for a decent E.P. - whilst hoping that Why? spend more time on their follow-up.

Meanwhile, I feel as though my review of Casiotone For The Painfully Alone's Vs. Children may have been a touch too generous. Initially describing it as Owen Ashworth's "most complete album to date," my enthusiasm towards it has dimmed slightly - perhaps unsurprisingly, in retrospect, it is still Etiquette I usually turn to when I want my CFTPA fix. I appreciate what he's achieved here, though - creating an interesting narrative that throws up some wonderful instances of self-doubt and self-loathing that aren't so firmly rooted in the seemingly minor personal failures detailed throughout his previous output definitely represents a step forward, and a step beyond the expected limitations of the name Ashworth bestowed upon himself.

On Setting the Paces, BOAT offer their usual collection of scattershot punk-lite catchiness mixed in with the occasional slower jam. They're a fun band to be sure - and have enough great songs spread over three albums that they deserve to be an indie disco staple (this time round, the standout party tunes are "We Want It! We Want It!" and "Lately (I've Been On My Back)," both of which feature choruses just begging to be sang aloud after four beers too many) but unfortunately, it's difficult to make a convincing argument that beyond that, their music isn't essentially throwaway.

Despite all the hype, to my mind, Phoenix fall into the same category. Offering hooks and vocals that will sound immediately familiar to anyone with even a passing knowledge of alternative rock, fourth album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix has still ended the year as one of the most highly-regarded releases within the music press. It holds up well enough when you consider how unquestionably derivative it sounds, but it remains hard to understand why people have embraced it to the extent they have done. Catchy in places but meandering in others ("Love Like A Sunset Part I" could be argued as the build-up to "Love Like A Sunset Part II;" it could just as easily be described as an unnecessary diversion during which nothing of interest happens), when they're pop, they're a lot of fun, but the more downtempo songs offer little.

The Rural Alberta Advantage took a stab at self-releasing their debut album Hometowns last year, but it is the Saddle Creek re-release that has seem them garner a lot of well-deserved attention. Songs like "Sleep All Day" and "In The Summertime" show them to be adept at the difficult musical task of evoking moments you may not have lived through personally, but which seem familiar nonetheless; meanwhile, songs like "The Ballad of the RAA" and "Don't Haunt This Place" show them to have a good ear for a pop tune. It's not all perfect - "Rush Apart" has a touch of the hoedown about it, whilst "The Dethbridge in Lethbridge," and its unmistakable desire to be "Holland, 1945," takes the Jeff Mangum influence a little too far. All told, though, I'm a little bit in love with this album, and expect even more from them with their next release - there's enough evidence to suggest that they're keen to forge their own distinct sound, rather than following in the footsteps of their forebearers.

That said, Throw Me The Statue were a band I would've said exactly the same about, and yet to my mind, Creaturesque is an inferior effort to their 2007 debut Moonbeams, an album that contained a handful of should've-been "hit" singles - "Lolita," "About To Walk" and "Take It Or Leave It" amongst them - that have yet to be embraced by indie discos across the land (much like BOAT). The same cannot be said second time around: standout track "Dizzy From The Fall" aside, the album is a somewhat low-key affair, lacking in any sense of immediacy, often rather reflective and, dare I say it, even melancholy (which, in fairness, is a direction their first album occasionally hinted at), at times sounding like early CFTPA with better production. Indeed, all the most upbeat tracks come in the second half of the album, a strange sequencing decision which makes building up momentum difficult even before penultimate track "Shade For A Shadow" effectively grinds proceedings to a halt. Ultimately, a disappointing sophomore effort.

In the end, then, it was left for Micachu and the Shapes to bring the fun, impressively managing to give art-pop a good name in the process. Songs as infectious as "Vulture," "Golden Phone" and "Wrong" deserve the wider audience that all the praise for their debut album Jewellery looks set to gain them, and the fact that they're a great live band will only contribute to their success.

(A number of end-of-year lists and websites have proved invaluable in finding any releases that might have passed me by, all of them well worth reading through: The A.V. Club, Coke Machine Glow, Piccadilly Records, Pitchfork, Pop Tarts Suck Toasted, Spin, and The Line of Best Fit.)

I'm getting back into getting back into getting back into this writing thing

Sure, maybe the title of this piece should've been something simpler, rather than a Silver Jews lyric that, almost typically for the band, manages to straddle the divide between amazing and tortured. But, seeing as how they regrettably broke up at the start of this year, it seems fitting. David Berman's explanation for the decision, and what appears to be his retirement from music - "I always said we would stop before we got bad. If I continue to record I might accidentally write the answer song to Shiny Happy People" - was typically fantastic. The band will be missed.

Anyway, since my laptop completely fucked it late this summer, actually writing anything has become a bit of a nightmare (as has listening to music in general - more on that in a later post). But now that I'm back home for Christmas, with nothing to do but listen to things/watch things and then write about them, it seems as good a time as any to get back on the horse (or do whatever the title of his piece implies, I don't know). So I'm currently working on listening to as many 2009 albums as possible, in preparation for an eventual list; possibly compiling a list of my favourite albums of the decade; and maybe doing the same for films, I don't know yet (I haven't seen that many this year - although the ones I have seen have often been excellent). In the meantime, I'm going to look ahead towards next year (and not just because a new, working computer is in my future):

A decent place to start would be here: Stereogum's list of sixty-nine albums worth looking out for in 2010. On this evidence, it looks set to be a good year. Some of those acts have already started previewing new songs ahead of the release of their latest efforts. Vampire Weekend currently have three tracks from their second album Contra up on their MySpace page, offering a glimpse of what we can expect - which is "pretty much the same as last time," albeit with a few added bells and whistles (almost literally, in fact). That shouldn't be a problem, though - Vampire Weekend remains an excellent album, and I'm staying positive that the lessons they should have learnt since then puts them in a position to improve upon it.

A new Liars album is also in the offing, and they're always worth checking out. The first song is available free from their website (or listen to it here). Once again, it marks a drastic shift from their last release, but at this point that's what we've come to expect from them. At this point, they probably don't get enough credit for pushing the boundaries of alternative music (Animal Collective are too busy soaking up all the plaudits).

Meanwhile, another promising upcoming release is the James Mercer/Danger Mouse collaboration. Going by the name of Broken Bells, they've put their first song out into the wide world (or worldwide web, if you prefer). "The High Road" might not be much to go on, but hopes remain high, considering the talent the two men possess.

In other words: plenty to be excited about. On a different note: Deerhunter are offering a free download of experimental 2005 home recording Carve Your Initials Into the Walls of the Night; inexplicably, Death Cab guitarist (and producer) Chris Walla teamed up with hardcore legend (and producer) J. Robbins to create "Mercury"; a shoutout to my favourite discovery of the year with regards to online comics, Hark! A Vagrant, which crafts its humour from historical figures/events, often juxtaposing them with modern day sensibilities (take Lord Byron macking on Mary Shelley, or Kierkegaard concerned with his public image); a new Channel 4 comedy starring Arrested Development alumni David Cross and Will Arnett; and a couple of end-of-decade A.V. Club lists, the best books and videogames of the the '00s. I've only read two of those books myself - The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (which I disliked, despite the praise everyone poured upon it) and Carter Beats The Devil (which I would wholeheartedly recommend to everyone).

Why? "Eskimo Snow"

Three plays in, and I can't shake the feeling that Yoni Wolf and co. have blown their unbeaten streak of fantastic records...

I don't say such a thing lightly. After all, I consider Elephant Eyelash and Alopecia to be two of the best albums released this decade. Yet Eskimo Snow has caught me off guard in pretty much every sense. I've been a little out of touch lately, and didn't even realise there was a new Why? album due until a few days ago. What they've offered is something very different to that which preceded it - it actually seems appropriate to tag Eskimo Snow with the word "mature," as though they've consciously decided to shake off any last vestiges of the hip hop stylings that are tied into the origin of the band, in favour of a sound that has more in common with the alt folk movement. Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, but what they've offered is strangely flat.

Things start off promisingly enough. "These Hands" is a good opener, brief and understated with some fantastic lines (such as "these hands/are my father's hands but smaller") that highlight the subtle emotional depth that Yoni Wolf injects his songs with. Further proof of this is "This Blackest Purse," with Wolf asking "mom, am I failing or worse?" (another example of a seeming obsession with parents. There are others, too) before trailing off, clearly unconvinced that the answer is going to be to his liking. It's the strongest track on the album, bristling with a sadness that slowly transforms into desperation, scaling the heights (and depth) of the beautiful "Gemini (Birthday Song)". And "Into The Shadows Of My Embrace" is an excellent ditty (and yes, that really is the best word to describe it, at least as far as the fantastic intro is concerned) that serves as a necessary mood-lightener.

"One Rose" references both "A Sky for Shoeing Horses Under" and "The Kill Tone Two" (an Odd Nosdam track Wolf provides vocals for), which is a nice touch, in that it adds a sense of continuity to Wolf's oeuvre. But it also suggests that perhaps Eskimo Snow would have worked better as a companion to Alopeica, rather than as a standalone album. They did the same thing in 2005, to great effect - the Sanddollars EP was released a few months prior to Elephant Eyelash, and is arguably the stronger work. Most of Eskimo Snow manages to pass the listener by, which is the last thing you would expect from such a distinctive, inventive band. "January Twenty Something" starts off promisingly, but as it develops the percussion washes over everything else, and what remains is relatively bland. "Against Me" leaves no particular impression in its wake, and "Even The Good Wood Gone" makes it three similar-sounding and unsuccessful songs in a row, a passage that kills any momentum the album could ever hope to gain. Things do pick up in the second half - "On Rose Walk, Insomniac" and "Berkeley by Hearseback" are both more than passable - but not enough to raise the album to the level of its predecessors.

The lifelessness that pervades much of the album is a real surprise. Why? are never usually anything less than interesting, yet much of Eskimo Snow seems somewhat insipid. Maybe it's a grower (I'm clinging to the hope that this is the case). But initially, it sounds like something of a misfire. And from a musical standpoint, one of the biggest disappointments of the year.

Brendan Benson "My Old, Familiar Friend"

Brendan Benson's debut album One Mississippi was something of a revelation, a heady mixture of infectious pop songs and balladry that worked perfectly. He followed it up with Lapalco, which was solid, but lacked the inventiveness of his first. By The Alternative to Love - best described as "ponderous" - any remaining magic seemed to have disappeared, and as a consequence I almost entirely ignored his high-profile venture with Jack White (The Raconteurs). Yet whilst his fourth solo album offers definite reasons to be positive again, it also feels like further proof that he's content to stick to the middle of the road.

"A Whole Lot Better" starts proceedings off in a musically upbeat manner, with the song detailing the narrator's inability to decide whether or not the girl in his life is good for him - he keeps falling in and out of love with her, and cannot make up his mind one way or another (a wonderful breakdown sums up the dilemma perfectly). It has the kind of energy that powers nearly all of Benson's best tunes, and such is certainly the case on this album. The clear standout track "Poised and Ready" is fantastic straight-up rock, catchy as hell and fit to soundtrack any indie disco where the kids just want to dance. It also kicks off the best sequence on the album - it's followed by a couple of songs in a similar vein, "Don't Wanna Talk" and "Misery." Elsewhere, the slow build of "Feel Like Taking You Home" works perfectly, offering a balance between drive and restraint that the album benefits from; and the kitchen-sink-esque quality that runs through "Garbage Day" lifts it above most of Benson's ballads.

However, the "other" side of Benson's work is also on evidence here. "Eyes On The Horizon" is an uninspired, classic rock by-the-numbers effort; "Gonowhere" is a plodding track that, appropriately, goes nowhere, and "You Make A Fool Out Of Me" is pretty much identical to it. Songs like these serve to highlight the problem with Benson's output. About half of his songs can be filed under power-pop, and half under easy listening, and that kind of constant switching between the two vastly different genres comes across as somewhat schizoprehnic, and the gap between the highs and the lows is positively chasmic.

It is this level of inconsistency that makes My Old, Familiar Friend so difficult to recommend. When it is good, it genuinely is very good, but when it's bad, it ranges from mediocre to painfully dull, and ultimately, not really worth your time. It's only right to hold true to the belief that albums are intended to be heard as a whole, and the number of skippable tracks this one contains seriously damages its worth.

Moon

In the not-too-distant future, Sam Bell (played by Sam Rockwell) is the sole operator of a moon-based facility that mines Helium 3 - an alternative power source - so that it can be utilised to cater for the vast energy needs of Earth. He's coming to the end of his three-year contract with Lunar Industries, and can't wait to get home to see his wife and daughter. The opening scenes are beautifully paced, as much an exploration of human loneliness as an entry into the science fiction genre, as Sam goes about his daily routine, which reveals the isolation he is forced to endure as part of his job. Not only is he alone on the station, but the lines of communication that would enable live conversation with people back home have never worked, meaning that he's limited to the recorded broadcasts sent to him. And his only companion is Gerty, a talking computer voiced by Kevin Spacey.

The similarities between Duncan Jones's directorial debut and 2001: A Space Odyssey are more than just superficial, but Moon cleverly plays upon the expectations Kubrick's masterpiece have raised - about a third of the way in, there is a significant twist that takes the film down an entirely different route. Of course, the problem with films that employ this kind of narrative shift is that they're difficult to talk about without ruining for anyone who hasn't already seen them. Moon is no different - the first twist is just the beginning, as the truth unfolds slowly, one reveal after another, until the true nature of Sam's contract is revealed.

Whilst it might be difficult to discuss the plot without giving anything away, it certainly isn't difficult to recommend the film. Sam Rockwell's performance is magnificent. Tasked with carrying proceedings almost single-handedly (Spacey's role is minimal, although full credit to him for getting the tone of Gerty spot-on), he excels, giving further evidence of the reasons he's spoken of so highly. Well worth a viewing.

Modest Mouse "No One's First and You're Next"

Modest Mouse's 2007 release, We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank, cemented the band as a mainstream concern, in that it reached #1 in the US Billboard chart - something which would have been inconceivable for the band at the start of the century. Even third album The Moon & Antarctica - tamer than the efforts that preceded it - was still abrasive enough to dissuade most people. That said, the transformation the band have undergone makes perfect sense in the context of their entire oeuvre - it feels like a natural progression, rather than the result of a band actively striving to make more commercially viable music. But whichever way you look at it, it's hard not to argue that the results of this change have been much less interesting than their earlier output.

No One's First and You're Next exists in order to bring together unreleased tracks and B-sides recorded over the last five years or so. As would be expected from such a release, there are songs that can be described as throwaway: "Perpetual Motion Machine" and "History Sticks To Your Feet" are easily dismissed as inconsequential. "King Rat," meanwhile, simultaneously calls to mind "Dance Hall" and "Bukowski," although you wouldn't want it taking the place of either.

That's not to say that all the songs are misfires, though. It's interesting to try and find spaces for the better material of this collection on the last Modest Mouse album - of the stand-out tracks, opener "Satellite Skin" follows the template laid out by singles "Float On" and "Dashboard," whilst not quite matching their heights; "Autumn Beds" is a laid back, banjo-driven tune with a fantastic melody that should have taken the place of the similar but vastly inferior "Little Motels"; meanwhile, the epic/rambling squall of "The Whale Song" is much more interesting than "Parting of the Sensory" or "Spitting Venom." What these songs illustrate is that the band could have offered a much better album than We Were Dead (which trails off spectacularly after a strong four-song opening salvo). It's not that they didn't have the songs - they simply chose the wrong ones. Even "Guilty Cocker Spaniels" and "I've Got It All (Most)" are decent enough to have improved We Were Dead significantly.

Ultimately, then, No One's First and You're Next proves to be more interesting than their last full album, although it remains to be seen which direction the band will choose to move in come their next release. After all, this is essentially a deck-clearing exercise - hopefully, its release constitutes the band drawing this chapter of their history to a close, and moving onto to something a little different.

Upcoming...

So, this last week kind of got away from me. Mostly, the (hopefully temporary) return of my insomnia has been my undoing - it's very difficult to compose decent sentences when you're barely getting any sleep at all. Then, there was the usual weekend revelry (including an incredibly impressive performance on my part at the launch of the Manchester Metropolitan University Art & Design degree show - so much free wine, that led to all manner of questionable behaviour afterwards, and a fair amount of memory loss) acting as a further distraction. Which is why my last entry was over a week ago. Which I'm not thrilled about - I really did want this to be a regular thing. Which is why I've decided to outline what I expect to be posting in the following days - as much as a reminder to myself, as to anyone who might be reading this.

Firstly, I'll be continuing The 69 Love Songs Project. I haven't decided on songs six through ten yet, but I have plenty of candidates in mind, Pasty Cline's "Crazy," Elton John's "Your Song," Nilsson's "Without You," Roy Orbison's "Crying" and Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" amongst them. As those songs would suggest, the next instalment will be more about acknowledged classics of the genre.

I'll probably be offering a review of Milan Kundera's Life Is Elsewhere at some point in the near future; I've barely picked it up this week, due to my aforementioned difficulties/distractions, but I'm sure I'll get it finished presently. I hope so - I'm not reading anywhere near as much as I'd like to be. And considering that we're planning on setting up a library in our new house...after that, I think Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities may well be my next port of call - I'm really trying to take this 'English Literature Student' thing to new extremes, with the loose aim being to have read as many classics by this time next year.

And at some point, a trip to the cinema to see Looking For Eric needs to happen...any film centred around Eric Cantona is certainly going to get me out of the house. Hopefully, it'll live up to its promise/premise.