I'm back and I blew it. DP39: #30-26
Well, the good news is that I'm back in cyberspace. The bad news is that Pitchfork already issued their Top Albums of 2005. I tried to get it out there before that happened, to not be perceived as a copy cat, or be actually influenced by their list. Pitchfork is increasingly becoming the Steven Spielberg New York Yankees of the indie world, it's undeniable that they are good, sometimes really good, but goddammit, let me get in there first! Oh well.
30. Devendra Banhart - Cripple Crow (XL)
My god, man. Cut cut your damn hair. Wash your clothes. Stop dating that Frida Kahlo-wannabe (albeit hot) psuedo-intellectual folkie. All signs point to no for Devendra and I becoming best buds, but his Cripple Crow is an outstanding release of playfully odd folk and painfully beautiful ideas. He, unlike most worthless hippies, have found a way to put it all together, combining surprisingly structured melodies without compromising his freaky quirks. It' s a wacky children's show, equally fucked up on mind-bending drugs and the love of life. Whether he's rocking out pysch-steez ("Long Haired Child") or he's lullabying in Spanish ("Luna De Margarita"), Banhart has released his best and most accessible album to date, which is a quite feat, considering he probably had to stop staring at a lava lamp long enough to push this little gem out. Bravo, my new patchuli-smelling friend, bravo.
29. Low - The Great Destroyer (Sub Pop)
Which is heavier: a ton of bricks or a ton of feathers? Yeah, I probably fucked that one up in 9th grade Physics, but I bet Alan Sparhawk, Mimi Parker and Zak Sally, aka Low, didn't. On The Great Destroyer, the Duluth trio weaves a stinging melodicism into their dense slowcore noise for a refreshing and simulataneously gloriously intense masterpiece. David Friedman helmed the production, and the pounding drums and acute sounds unearths all the gold that the band tried to so hard to bury in their sonic muck of previous releases. It's Friedman's alchemy that really packs the punch and the band thrives on his direction, finding a medium that maximizes their strengths. What good is a ton of feathers strewn about? Or a sack of bricks that is too heavy to lift? Or a metaphor that barely fits?
28. Stars - Set Yourself On Fire (Arts and Crafts)
Since I'm in the habit of bashing every type of genre/lifestyle (see above, hippies) these days. Let me compare my love of Set Yourself On Fire to ravers and rave culture. Seriously dude, these people are so blind to their own grossness that it's almost admirable. The huge pants, the glo-sticks, the pacifiers. If they are willing to be seen like that, it must be love. My love for Stars is that blind, something so heartfeltly cheesily pop shouldn't belong on an "intellectual" list like this one. Now let me step back for a sec and call horseshit on myself. First of all, I essentially exclusively listen to pop. Secondly, Set Yourself On Fire is a smart person's love album; not only is it catchy but it's complex, witty and emotional. It's like a David Sedaris book, self-conscious of its own silliness yet unwilling to have it any other way. Now knowing that singer Torquil Campbell was a child actor, come someone please set the wheels in motion for a Sedaris biopic with Torq in the lead role and Amy Milian as Amy Sedaris? Wow. That, my friend, is a romantic thought.
27. M.I.A. - Arular (XL)
Thanks to M.I.A., I have this absolutely brilliant excuse I can use anytime I hear Arular and get accused for not shaking a leg: "Sorry I can't dance, I jumped on this bandwagon so hard, I have shin splints." Someone sign me up for Premium Blend. Really, there is nothing more to say.
26. M. Ward - Transistor Radio (Merge)
I'm guessing Matt Ward gets a lot of ass. Like, boy-band ass. Transistor Radio is as grand as the critically acclaimed Transfiguration of Vincent if not better. The album displays a tremendous collection of originals and well-chosen covers (J.S. Bach, WTF!), with americana styles including but not limited to balls-out, gunslinging spaghetti western guitar noodling, classical finger picking (J.S. Bach, WTF #2!), hushed folk and jazzy country. His ranging voice is the real draw though, from sweet croon to husky howl, it's no wonder the ladies beckon. And if there was any justice in this world of show, with an AM radio sound this perfect, I see Mr. Ward with some classier, distinguished older-type beauties but in boy-band quantities.
Devendra Banhart: http://www.cripplecrow.com/
Low: http://www.chairkickers.com/
Stars: http://www.arts-crafts.ca/stars/
M.I.A.: http://www.miauk.com/
M. Ward: http://www.mwardmusic.com/
30. Devendra Banhart - Cripple Crow (XL)My god, man. Cut cut your damn hair. Wash your clothes. Stop dating that Frida Kahlo-wannabe (albeit hot) psuedo-intellectual folkie. All signs point to no for Devendra and I becoming best buds, but his Cripple Crow is an outstanding release of playfully odd folk and painfully beautiful ideas. He, unlike most worthless hippies, have found a way to put it all together, combining surprisingly structured melodies without compromising his freaky quirks. It' s a wacky children's show, equally fucked up on mind-bending drugs and the love of life. Whether he's rocking out pysch-steez ("Long Haired Child") or he's lullabying in Spanish ("Luna De Margarita"), Banhart has released his best and most accessible album to date, which is a quite feat, considering he probably had to stop staring at a lava lamp long enough to push this little gem out. Bravo, my new patchuli-smelling friend, bravo.
29. Low - The Great Destroyer (Sub Pop)Which is heavier: a ton of bricks or a ton of feathers? Yeah, I probably fucked that one up in 9th grade Physics, but I bet Alan Sparhawk, Mimi Parker and Zak Sally, aka Low, didn't. On The Great Destroyer, the Duluth trio weaves a stinging melodicism into their dense slowcore noise for a refreshing and simulataneously gloriously intense masterpiece. David Friedman helmed the production, and the pounding drums and acute sounds unearths all the gold that the band tried to so hard to bury in their sonic muck of previous releases. It's Friedman's alchemy that really packs the punch and the band thrives on his direction, finding a medium that maximizes their strengths. What good is a ton of feathers strewn about? Or a sack of bricks that is too heavy to lift? Or a metaphor that barely fits?
28. Stars - Set Yourself On Fire (Arts and Crafts)Since I'm in the habit of bashing every type of genre/lifestyle (see above, hippies) these days. Let me compare my love of Set Yourself On Fire to ravers and rave culture. Seriously dude, these people are so blind to their own grossness that it's almost admirable. The huge pants, the glo-sticks, the pacifiers. If they are willing to be seen like that, it must be love. My love for Stars is that blind, something so heartfeltly cheesily pop shouldn't belong on an "intellectual" list like this one. Now let me step back for a sec and call horseshit on myself. First of all, I essentially exclusively listen to pop. Secondly, Set Yourself On Fire is a smart person's love album; not only is it catchy but it's complex, witty and emotional. It's like a David Sedaris book, self-conscious of its own silliness yet unwilling to have it any other way. Now knowing that singer Torquil Campbell was a child actor, come someone please set the wheels in motion for a Sedaris biopic with Torq in the lead role and Amy Milian as Amy Sedaris? Wow. That, my friend, is a romantic thought.
27. M.I.A. - Arular (XL)Thanks to M.I.A., I have this absolutely brilliant excuse I can use anytime I hear Arular and get accused for not shaking a leg: "Sorry I can't dance, I jumped on this bandwagon so hard, I have shin splints." Someone sign me up for Premium Blend. Really, there is nothing more to say.
26. M. Ward - Transistor Radio (Merge)I'm guessing Matt Ward gets a lot of ass. Like, boy-band ass. Transistor Radio is as grand as the critically acclaimed Transfiguration of Vincent if not better. The album displays a tremendous collection of originals and well-chosen covers (J.S. Bach, WTF!), with americana styles including but not limited to balls-out, gunslinging spaghetti western guitar noodling, classical finger picking (J.S. Bach, WTF #2!), hushed folk and jazzy country. His ranging voice is the real draw though, from sweet croon to husky howl, it's no wonder the ladies beckon. And if there was any justice in this world of show, with an AM radio sound this perfect, I see Mr. Ward with some classier, distinguished older-type beauties but in boy-band quantities.
Devendra Banhart: http://www.cripplecrow.com/
Low: http://www.chairkickers.com/
Stars: http://www.arts-crafts.ca/stars/
M.I.A.: http://www.miauk.com/
M. Ward: http://www.mwardmusic.com/
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