It's been a while since I've bombarded everyone with words. Last year, I had a problem listening to anything other than Kaputt, not just because it was so good, but school and life and stuff got in the way too. This last year, I graduated and found myself with an incredible amount of time at work, home, in the car and whatnot to gather and listen. Unfortunately, I didn't have access to a lot of the records that I more than likely would have ignored if they hadn't come in to WLFM (I don't work there anymore, sad faces). So there are a decent amount of records I never got around to acquiring this year (most notably: Kendrick Lamar, Killer Mike, Tallest Man on Earth, Aesop Rock, etc). I mean I tried, but there's only so much one bro can do. I also avoided downloading things I hadn't purchased, a strategy I am currently re-considering. For the most part, I only picked these things up if something peeked my interest somewhere somehow this year. If you're like, “Hey, where's blah blah,” there's a good chance I just didn't listen to it (or I just might not have enjoyed it that much, haha).
With that said, the main reason I still feel the urge to do this is based solely on how little contact I've had with most of you re: music. I've had very few conversations about non-academic music with any of you this year and that' totally not cool! I'm also posting it in Note form so I can hear what you guys loved and what you think I shouldn't have. 2012 really was a fantastic year. Some may say this is me going overboard, but I think I've conveyed my general feelings about my top 10 pretty well. So, let it begin. Tell me what I did wrong.
Also, how excited are all of you for Harmony Korine's Spring Breakers?? I'm so excited.
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1) Burial – Kindred EP | Truant/Rough Sleeper
Burial hasn't released a what-they-call “proper” LP in over 5 years. The only two he has released (debut Burial and follow-up Untrue) have, by now, garnered more acclaim and critical admiration than any other electronic release since. Critics, journalists, etc went ape-shit over the deeper implications of an unknown making these things. As if self-promotion and personal-elevation were somehow intertwined in the creation of music – that an unknown musician would deny the ability to make himself more famous was hard for most to figure out. It took three-years for Burial to re-enter the conversation. In 2011, he released three EP's, Ego / Mirror, Four Walls, and Street Halo. In total, Burial has now released 5 EP's since Untrue's release way back in 2007, avoiding a full-length release entirely. There's probably some angle in this – maybe the pressure seemed fake, the hype over-blown, the prospect of giving critics more of what they loved loathed – but the most important thing right-here is that he's released enough material in the last two years to make at least 2 full lengths. Kindred and Truant/Rough Sleeper (his 2012 releases), alone, fill close to an hour of space themselves. They also represent some of the most fascinating, captivating and emotional material electronic music's ever seen. So, yeah, some angle's there, just waiting to be taken.
Burial has always stuck to his sound. There may have been some influences here and there, some now-forgotten UK-underground that found itself evolved, some remnant of early computer-produced dance-music that favored bass over melody – maybe bass as melody. But once Burial came out, Burial owned this shit. Everything that came before Burial in the development of early dubstep disappeared; it stopped mattering. If you've ever listened to one of his records, its his fucking sound, and the two EP's he's released this year represent some of the strongest and most effective material rooted in this sound. Kindred and Truant//Rough Sleeper are, while still steeped in this, quite different from everything he's done before. There are three tracks in total on Kindred and two in total on T//RS, as opposed to the 13 respective tracks on both of his previous LP's. These three tracks contain what might easily make up eight or nine songs on a Zomby or Mount Kimbie record; three arbitrary-distinctions-that-exist-just-for-the-label-and-fans named just for-the-sake-of-being-named (I wouldn't be surprised if Hyperdub named them). Within the context of Burial's body of work, these three distinctions function in an entirely different way.
Burial often felt like an incredibly prodigious exercise in technique – testing which found-sound might work percussively, what drone might replace the wobble of mid-2000's two-step, how one might distort and pitch-shift the most out-of-place vocal sample to fit perfectly in an entirely different harmonic atmosphere, Burial ultimately represented a collection of songs. While Untrue was similar in its album structure, these prior techniques found themselves more refined. The drops on Untrue hit harder, the vocals meant more, the effect of the album was stronger because Burial as a producer was stronger. And although his name hasn't been everywhere in oh-11 and 12, Burial as a musical creator has most fucking definitely not stopped growing.
Kindred and Truant//Rough Sleeper represent the purely-emotional; a type of sound that rarely graces any genre, let alone electronic music. Kindred and Truant//Rough Sleeper exist in a world without logical ends. They exist in a world of ambiguous emotion, some indescribable feeling that plays well-beneath our senses. It's this effect that sets both of these combined-efforts above the rest this year. Within the five tracks that comprise both EP's, ideas contort, feelings sway, fragments interrupt fragments, conclusions answer the wrong questions. The notion that one might come close to capturing pure-emotion by somehow avoiding expression seems to have challenged Burial for the duration of his existence, but these two EP's represent the closest he's come to actual emotional replication. This music defies genre or style, names or influences, it exists as frequency with no baggage//no persuasion, hits in ways no other release could, connects to places we're not aware of. Kindred and Truant//Rough Sleeper are subconscious to the point of subliminality. While 2012 saw some truly spectacular releases, none pushed a musical genre further nor suggested such a limitless future. It's a shame that T//RS came out in mid-December. In the current state of music criticism, the “best-of-the-year” list only counts Janurary-November. I mean, y'all gonna think I stole all this shit from Mark Richardson, now that his review's out.
TLDR: Burial's the best. These two EP's are probably his best. Cause it's like true emotion. Ya know, like no words getting in the way, or like any kind of face we can visualize singing and shit. AND his beats are dope.
2) Fiona Apple – The Idler Wheel
To avoid any kind of misconception about me as cultural commentator or whatever the fuck it is that I'm doing right now, I have to admit that I had never properly listened to any of Fiona Apple's records before this 2012 release. Most sources will tell you that this is her first album in seven years. From my own experience with The Idler Wheel, it sounds as if she's been releasing records for the last seven years (read: it doesn't sound like she's been away that long). Sure, this record makes a great deal of sense when viewed as a long-term project, not unlike Big Boi's Sir Lucious, D'angelo's Voodoo, The Wrens The Meadowlands, etc, but the length of time it took The Idler Wheel to find fruition has in no way diminished its incredible immediacy. Point: I don't need to know the inevitable backstory to say that Fiona Apple's The Idler Wheel is a fucking bizarre collection of songs. But even through the jarring timbres, incredibly sparse ensemble support, angular melodic and uninviting lyrical content, The Idler Wheel's ability to connect is incredibly unique, almost unheard of.
In 2012, Fiona Apple finds herself in an extremely similar position to that of Joanna Newsom upon her 2010 release of Have One On Me. Ms. Newsom was already a critical darling by 2010. Having been briefly associated with the freak-folk movement (Walnut Whales, Milk-eyed Mender), a New Americana that placed her firmly in a trend of the time, by 2010, Joanna's peers and the movement itself had disappeared. 2010 saw Cosmogramma, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, Swim, This Is Happening, Teen Dream, etc – from these classics alone, we may draw an argument that purely-acoustic music was dying. As Simon Reynolds prophesied, 2010 was truly a year of Cyborg rock (like most years now). Have One on Me, however, was not that. Painstakingly long, entirely acoustic, unamplified to save-your-life – I mean christ, Joanna Newom's instrument is the harp – Have One on Me stood alone. Joanna Newom's music was never meant to exist as a trend.
The Idler Wheel, it seems, isn't suppose to either. Again, we find a similar mix of the electro-acoustic, hybridization, ambiguous origin, and the unknowns among 2012's great releases. And again, one album stands completely apart from the rest. There's nothing all that original about Fiona Apple's content matter either: self-doubt, relationships, heartbreak, dread, regret, lost-love, fucking-being-genuinely-crazy... this stuff's all been done before, and although arguably never as good or as unique, it's still the same. I thought this shit may have run its course, played itself out, but I have to argue that Fiona Apple's constructed one of the weirdest and most original vessels to bring us this same-old played-out material shit.
These songs shouldn't work. The chromaticism of Fiona's piano often leads nowhere, she disregards any proper popular harmonic structure entirely. It's as if harmony's been forced against its will while chords beg to function. The psuedo-throwback-croonery of “Valentine” is accompanied by unnecessarily extended chords which never resolve... the rhythmically-simple albeit brooding chords of “Regret” clash against one another, within each other... “Jonathan”s implicitly playful meandering is almost child-like, “Left Alone”s rolling chromatics in the left hand really just exist because. A lot of this shit seems to exist just because. The instruments in this album sound like they don't want to be here. With true grace and command, Fiona Apple condemned harmony to the morose, a truly legitimate parallel with her fucking-nutso aesthetic. Basically, she gave herself a shit more room up top.
What makes The Idler Wheel truly spectacular, what cements it well-within that large cannon of piano-pop is just how well Fiona Apple's voice sits on top of this dreary landscape. Not only are her melodies&vocals&lyrics more effective than any other pop album released in 2012, they hold everything around her together; the instruments on The Idler Wheel function solely as support. Point-in-case: “Left Alone.” Fiona controls the ensemble – her voice ushers in the incredibly gorgeous drones that swim below the chorus, her voice defines the subtlety and destroys the explicit, it conducts. Without it, the song is cacophonous, it's uninformed and misdirected. What truly sets The Idler Wheel apart from Shields or Lonerism or even Channel Orange, is that everything within the album represents a part of Fiona Apple. Or at least whatever form of Fiona Apple she decided to divulge. If I may pull a far-fetched comparison here; Destroyer's Kaputt is Dan Bejar's conversation with others, The Idler Wheel is Fiona Apple's conversation with herself.
TLDR: Fiona Apple's The Idler Wheel is really fucking bizarre. Just like her. If we have to have lyrics with a face, I'd prefer no one else (save Joanna Newsom) sing them and like totally morph into it. Ya know?
3) Andy Stott – Luxury Problems
Luxury Problems was my favorite release of oh-12 for a good two months following its release. I've now had a bit of time to re-calibrate and analyze and what not, but the fact remains: this albums was this-close to number 1. The main reason being quite simple – I fucking love Andy Stott. There's not much more to it than that, and although fairly shallow and a little boring, I think it's fair. He's really just got everything for me; crazy good production, slamming beats, stark timbres, and Modern Love's great musical image for the sound. With Luxury Problems, it seems as though Andy Stott's perfected much. This kind of bias and personal taste never plays into the The Lists, and I miss that a bit.
I mean, I guess the “Staff Lists” do; they never align with the actual carved-in-stone “forever” lists (just like mine looks nothing like any other commentator's), but websites still post them. I'd be lying, like most would, if my own opinions aligning with the taste-makers didn't bring incredible satisfaction to, well, me. For instance, if I personally thought that Kendrick Lamar's record was the best of the year, and then pitchfork went and picked it best-of-the-year, Jesus. Especially if I was pushing it on a whole shit-ton of people. It's pure vindication, and while quite unhealthy, it is selfishly rewarding. Sometimes, I can't help but feel that this need-for-vindication may have somehow at some point found root deep within my subconcious; maybe it's the reason why I force so much music on so many people. It's a terrible thing to think, I know (or maybe y'all feel this way, lol). Or it could just be that I like fucking awesome music a ton and can't help but talk about it. It's one of those
Anyway, back to Mr. Stott. Luxury Problems is fucking awesome. Yeah. There is a decent amount of history behind Andy Stott and this album specifically – at least more than his previous releases – but I think it adds nothing to the experience. I could talk about the implications of utilizing an actual human voice for manipulation and application rather than vocal samples, and how that human voice happened to be his former piano teacher, or whatever. I think this approach is dumb and detracts from its effectiveness. If you don't like it, then I'll just assume that it's not your thing and we can agree to disagree. But check it out. It represents the best release within it's electronic sub-genre, in my opinion. I'm going with the more optimistic approach here: I love awesome music and want you all to listen to this and tell me if you like it, ya know?
4) Laurel Halo – Quarantine
Laurel Halo has become part of an ostensibly continuous albeit unique breed of DIY twenty-ten's electronic musicians. Unique in that, while the DIY-mentality has always existed, well beneath within and around electronic music, never before has it been the norm. Sure, some of electronic music's masterpieces were constructed entirely by their creators (Twoism, Ambient works 1985-1994, Since I Left You, BCD), but it seems that only recently has this DIY mentality become something held in higher regard to that of the standard: record label promotion, pre-purchased gear, alternative radio spins, and thousands upon thousands of dollars in whatever. Andy Stott, Lee Gamble, Grimes, Demdike Stare, Actress, Lindstrom, Vatican Shadow etc. The relative ease at which album-ready material can be achieved via the plethora of “professional” software suites readily available to you-and-me surely accounts for this rise in trend... perhaps even a little from the decline in price and availability of old semi-pro and pro-level reel-to-reels, DAT's, even cassette recorders (this may be more of a shameless-plug than I'm comfortable with).
I had the incredible pleasure of seeing Laurel at the 7th street a couple months back, and boy was it mind-altering. She may very well be one of the most-talented electronic performers among this bunch, definitely the most-talented I've seen. Her command of an entire table of hardware, pedals, keyboards and effected microphones was dazzling. And so much different from this album. It's pretty clear where Laurel Halo came from. Her last LP, Hour Logic, is much more dance-floor than the introspective post-ambient experiement of Quarantine. Hour Logic sounds like a live-set, where Quarantine doesn't quite immediately reveal it's ability to so-easily move. And while her latest effort plays much better on headphones than it does in, say, a venue, she didn't play Quarantine at the 7th street. She played something entirely different, but much more unique. Each track was manipulated, each track transformed via improvisation and effection. While the melody of “Years” was audible, the structure of the album version was not. And even though Quarantine strays from dance's roots, favoring slowly filtered synths-as-bass over implied kicks, startling-verging-on-annoying mixing techniques, and effect efficiency, the energy of the club is still present. But It's hardly noticeable. Live, it was obvious what her intentions were: She was taking just as many shots of Jameson as the crowd (even offering her handle to the bros up front). Laurel Halo's in this for a great time.
But Quarantine “The Album” is much more of a downer than Laurel would have you think. While I wouldn't necessarily call “Airsick” a jam, it certainly focuses much more on the textures of the rhythm than the often explicit nature of the words. Now, this may very well be my ostensibly deaf ear for lyrics, or more exactly, my inability to really understand what anyone's truly singing about, but I (like I'd like to imagine some others) had to look up the lyrics to kind of, ya know, get examples for y'all. That is, the lyrics are not what this albums is initially about. Sure, she sings and there's words and stuff, but it's clear that Laurel doesn't want us to really pay much attention to them. She'd rather have us hum along enough so as to almost subconsciously memorize them. The sounds always take precedent, right up until they don't. And even when she's singing and her voice is full-front-up-on-stage-like, she's taken a sort top-down approach to harmony not unlike This Heat's approach on Deceit.
Amongst all of this, there's a spooky notion that may very well trump most of the sounds: she's having a fucking great time singing some just downright aching shit. “Your eyes make all the misery come worthwhile/ Yet all I want is to rid of them” || “They come and fuck alone / the blackest night I saw you cry” || “You'll make love to cold bodies / Fresh after they're gone” || etc. I mean, there's a ton of heartbreak and misery buried here. And this misery is always obscured by her approach to harmony and her continual focus on electronic textures that tend to forcefully shift our attention elsewhere. But nonetheless, I've found myself unknowingly singing “I will never see you again / You're mad because I will not leave you alone,” only later (kind of right now) realizing that these songs really do pack a heartfull of punch. While it's rare (and still almost cliché) to have sad lyrics paired with happy music (a bad summation, I know), it's rarer still to have such ambiguous emotions tied to each aspect of a record (lyrics vs. sound). There's hurt in this record, and Laurel Halo's done a spectacular job confusing, denying, and messing with it's ultimate meaning. She's done singing a favor. Hyperdub, you always choose the best.
TLDR: Laurel Halo's messed up cause she's looks so happy singing this stuff, and it's really morose. I guess it does take a while to realize that, maybe she hasn't realized that yet.
5) Liars – WIXIW
Liars' prodigious ability, the one where they regularly make great records and whatnot, has become a bit of a problem for the band. The consistency they've always watermarked every record with, one their strongest attributes, appears to be hurting their once-solid ability to generate hype. Nothing else seems to explain why WIXIW was ignored so thoroughly this year. By now, it's fair to say that Liars has amassed the strongest body of work among any band in the past decade. Their 2012 addition to this incredible oeuvre is no different, a record complete with: new thematic material, an incredibly stark aesthetic change, and a genuinely self-reflective voice that had always been ignored for their hilariously ironic socialist-commentary. Unlike the years '01, '04 '06, '07, '10, however, people kind of forgot about this new addition. It may be their strongest effort to date, but I have this strange feeling that WIXIW didn't happen...
So, why? Well... Liars had previously approached every record before with a new sense of purpose, each album a new derision, new aggression, new comedy, in brief, they'd always donned a new muse: They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on top their definition of 21st century post-punk, They were Wrong, So We Drowned a bizarre trip into experimental dance-rock, Drums Not Dead one of the wildest concept albums ever created, and so on. Each record found them in new-form, and each record forced the listener to adapt to whatever aesthetic they were currently exploiting. Their consistency of embodying modernism's defining characteristic (change through positive progression) kept them comfortably nestled in the critical arms of admiration. Up until this record, their shocking ability to stay fresh through re-invention assured their widespread critical acclaim.
What makes WIXIW's release so puzzling, then, is how little attention their starkest-change-yet has garnered; I mean they really fucking changed it up. Most every instrument they used to rely-on has been replaced by their “color” instruments of the past: electronics, synthesizers, drum-machines, sequencers, analog circuitry, etc. The heavy-as-hell distortion that so ruthlessly defined this band is gone, along with the hardcore heaviness it (they) used to shove in your face. Subtler and more obscure electronic acts like Bjork and Tricky have replaced their long-term devotional influences; bands liked This Heat, Killing Joke, Can and Faust have disappeared from the palette. Where pre-2012 Liars was a constantly evolving shape-shifting motherfucker of a band, 2012 Liars is something I haven't had enough time to call by weird phrase.
The only explanation I could convoke is based on the experience of another band's from a couple years ago, Radiohead, specifically, The King of Limbs. And it's not even that great of an explanation because TKOL had a shit-load of hype surrounding it's release, it just wasn't very good. But in similar fashion, expectations surrounding a band that had, like Liars, defined itself through constant evolution got boring for the press. With TKOL, Radiohead lost their entitled-voice because the record kinda sucked (or at least kinda sucked in comparison to the rest of their incredible albums, which is unfair). WIXIW, however, does not, in both regards. This record is a Liars record; it does what every one of their records does, and it does that shit well. Maybe they reached the point where people stopped caring whether they might finally fall off, if they could finally be forgotten, that one bad record might cement them in the past.
WIXIW is what The King of Limbs wanted to be, without the newspaper-edition-hype or confusing blotter-paper-insert. It's startlingly depressing, genuinely beautiful, and moody as all hell. They've traded in their guitars for orchestral synthesizer washes (The Exact Color of Doubt), rock-drums for minimal, downtempo club (His and Mine Sensations), and about as good a dance track as any made this year (Brats). They've completely changed their influences – Bjork, Tricky, and the minimalism of Basic Channel rather than the typical dose of experimental-rock prophets. WIXIW is a record of introspection, self-reflection, and solitude. It's dark and desperate, anxious and unsettling. It's not going to ruin your friends the way “Plastercasts” or “Scarecrows” did, nor exude the type of evil their live shows used to (although Angus' childlike delivery of “WIXIW” live may have been eviler than anything I saw 2 years ago). It is, however, going to stick around longer. It's going to effect you more than anything they've done before. That kind of staying power's a high-commodity this day and age.
TLDR: You can still dance to it.
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