Quarterly Review: The Best of 2009’s First Quarter
The first three months of 2009 have been ridiculous. There’s just been so much good that has come out, leading me to feel wholly inadequate to truly judge it fairly. The truth is, however, I like all the albums mentioned here as much as one person possibly can, making me dubious that anything else could have been much better from the last three months. Of course, this is all said without me having listened to new albums by Fever Ray, Antony, Propaghandi and who knows how many other artists, so I could still really be missing out. With that said, with the exception of number one, I’ve enjoyed everything here pretty evenly and deciding which albums not to write on was based almost solely on what I wanted to write about the most. Here’s to the remaining nine months of the decade.
Building on every good idea they’ve ever had and expanding and extrapolating from there, Animal Collective have made the masterpiece we all knew they were capable of and all feared they would never quite reach. Taking every notable quality from the best of indie’s class of ’08 (Fleet Foxes’ vocal synergy, TV On The Radio’s aural detail, Vampire Weekend’s afro-beat love affair) and giving it considerable jolt, the Brooklyn duo of Avey Tare and Panda Bear have seemingly concocted the ideal capper to the decade – both theirs and ours.
Ever since 2004’s Sung Tongs (and arguably even before that) Animal Collective have been about marrying their experimental leanings with the true joys of a good all-encompassing pop song. On Merriweather Post Pavillion they have done that. Again and again. Even on opening track “In The Flowers,” where in the past the group would let the meandering gurgles and ambient hiccups be the whole point, Animal Collective let the song blow wide open at the two-and-a-half minute mark like a time elapsed video of a blooming sunflower. Of course, the album rarely lets up from there, jumping from high point (the heavenly familial rave-up “My Girls”) to high point (the charming young love mantra of “Summertime Clothes”) to high point (the sped-up chorus of “Lion In A Coma”) to high point (party starting album closer “Brothersport”). MPP catches Animal Collective at their most inspired, their warmest, their most palatable and their most consistent. It’s unlikely another album will inspire hearts, minds and asses as much in 2009.
“Lion In A Coma”
Two absolutely huge metal albums were recently released with two diametrically opposed goals. The first, and more popular (and therefore divisive) of the two is Mastodon, who have released their second major label album and one that seems to simultaneously pull towards the seemingly unpenetrable mainstream while simultaneously pushing away from it. Toning down the thrash qualities of Remission and the still incredible Leviathan and upping the southern rock qualities of Brett Hinds and Troy Sanders singing voices, Crack The Skye is Mastadon’s most mid-tempo album - always building, but rarely melting your face. By that same token, Crack The Skye is quite easily the band’s most prog album to date, with two of the seven tracks lurching past the 10-minute mark and jazz flourishes bubbling to the surface at a constant rate. While the new one doesn’t quite burn with adrenaline the way the band’s past albums have, it’s an absolutely essential listening experience on headphones. Listening to these songs morph and change shape from second to second is a deeply satisfying experience, whether or not it’s a move towards the middle of the road (hint: it’s not).
Kylesa’s Static Tensions is another beast all together. This one is a face melter that thrives in a open listening environment. Kylesa kills it at every angle on this album, making for an album that is more immediate than it’s more publicized counterpart. With that said, Static Tensions grows and improves with each listen as well. More than just riffs and huge voices, Kylesa’s latest offers a double drummer assault that reveals sonic subtleties and co-singer Laura Pleasant’s foreboding coo – a beacon of hope in a scene that all too often overlooks the fairer gender.
With Crack The Skye expanding the horizons of contemporary mainstream metal and Static Tensions blasting another breakthrough metal band into our faces, last year’s prize genre looks to be in no hurry to slow down.
It’s a new Super Roots album, same as the old Super Roots album, right? Well, yes and no. The Boredoms Brand – overlong tsunami’s of tribal drums and wayward pitch shifters, Yamantaka Eye’s majestic hollering and endless synth scales - is as solid as ever with the nine-and-a-half minute long “Ant 10,” which plays out in typical Boredoms fashion (that is, mind bendingly awesome and uplifting) only to be re-mixed five more times. Most of the remixes follow a fairly straight-forward path, adding bigger beats, messing with Eye’s vocals - chop, slice, serve, etc. - but they all serve as a tribute to the original feel of the song and the whole thing remains a celebration. The highlight of the remixes comes from Norwegian producer Lindstrøm, who effectively takes things down a notch, slowing down some of the spacey scales from the original track and infusing it with a whole bunch of his own moog-inflected intergalactic disco (and a quick, soulful reference to Boredoms’ masterful Vision Creation Newsun). It’s an about face for the album, but one that serves the whole of the album and ensures a more fulfilling listening experience. Boredoms may not be doing anything fresh and new with their sound these days, but their sound still amazes, especially when put into the able hands of others willing to add new context to the tribal celebration.
4. Bonnie “Prince” Billy Beware
Beware has taken a bit of a critical beatdown as of late by critics who don’t have much time for Will Oldham’s dalliances with straight(er) ahead country. Admittedly, Beware doesn’t feel like the “big” album it was purported to be in the New Yorker earlier this year - it might actually be more quaint than last year’s sweetly Lie Down In The Light – and the Tonight’s The Night referencing album cover can only promise something the album can’t live up to, but expectations aside, Beware remains a strong, frequently lovely album. We’ve had the haunted and spare Bonnie “Prince” Billy. We know what that sounds like. Let’s enjoy this new version in all it’s gawky, conventional glory because it feels good and sounds right.
It’s a funny thing with musical comedy albums, once you find one that works, it’s nearly impossible to put it down. Such is the case with this one from Saturday Night Live’s Andy Samberg, Jorma Taccone and Akiva Schaffer, who have essentially crafted an EP of new songs and skits padded by some of their more popular pieces from SNL (“Dick In A Box,” “Lazy Sunday,” “Jizz In My Pants,” but unfortunately no “Iran So Far”). Previously televised tracks like “Lazy Sunday” and the underrated “Space Olympics” actually work well without the visual element, the former because it’s actually a legitimately good song and the latter because the lyrics are hard to understand whenpaired up with SNL’s thoroughly piped-up audience laughter. While some of the other popular ones require some visual element to truly make them work, the album is really about the new songs, which are almost uniformly excellent. Great lines of absurdity and comedically perfect repetition make tracks like “Who Said We’re Wack?” (“To say that we’re wack/You’ll probably get smacked/If you said we’re wack/Did you say we’re wack?”), the glorious “Boombox” (featuring not only copious references to boiled goose, but the immortal line “Waaho-ooh/Everyone was wearing fingerless gloves/Waaho-ooh/I saw a Spanish guy doing the ‘Bartman’”) and “Dreamgirl” (Chex Mix!) ideal for repeat listens. Who knows if this baby’s going to last (if I remember correctly, the first Tenacious D album was a constant favorite for about four months), but the boys Lonely Island have crafted a musical comedy album that puts equal emphasis on both the comedy and music, leading to an album with way more repeat value than many of their contemporaries of comedic forefathers.