DP39: The Aftermath

I really fooled you, dude. There's no way I'd fit everything into 39 neat little spots. I figure I'm probably the least critical critic out there, so why not embrace it? Well, I don't have the energy to write a dozen more blurbs but I will share with you the album covers of a generous baker's dozen more, for nice little pretty entry into the new year (would have been 16 if I had good pics of Hold Ghost Revival's Bleeding Light and Tangiers' The Family Myth).

Anyway here they are the best of the rest (in alphabetical order), and no more words until 2006, when I drop the insane 2005 songlist. I'll give you a preview... the folder containing the songs is >150. Ouch! Happy new year!

(Jon Brion Version, duh)

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Yes! DP39: #5-1

Whew!

5. The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema (Matador)
How is it that our world is inundated with tired, uninspired, recycled music coming at us from all corners, with consequent upheaval and moaning sighs about said garbage invading our space, yet, The New Pornographers whose newest album Twin Cinema is really not radically different from their previous albums, avoids the proverbial guillotine (for the most part, see Vice)? And How do I get away with run-on sentences like that one? The old adage "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" is an understatement for the Vancouver supergroup, really no one should ever question the pop-blessed hand of Carl Newman and his disciples (in a non-condescending way). Twin Cinema has everything you want out of a New Pornos record: Wilson meets Davies melodic gold, the knee-weakening drawl of Neko Case, the quirky genius of Dan Bejar and the steady and workman-like craft of Dahle, Thurier, Fancey and Collins. If the band follows the same format that brought them praise in three successive albums, there's no reason to see them becoming one of rock and roll's greats, because after all, like the saying goes "Don't shit where you eat."

4. The Clientele - Strange Geometry (Merge)
Heartbreak and elegance. One you try to avoid, the other you strive to achieve. Yet, after The Clientele's Strange Geometry, they seem so extricably connected. The London trio glorifies melodrama and makes it cool, poetically painting a picture of introspection. It doesn't get more romantic than stumbling down foggy cobbled streets, coat collar up, wondering where it all went wrong. The string arrangements of the great Louis Phillipe only makes Alasdair MacLean's twee melodies more astonishing, creating a gentle juxtapostion between the jangly finger picking, the pyschedelic fuzz outs and sweeping strings. Immersed in all of the sadness, the most poignant feature of Strange Geometry is the control of MacLean. Through the opaque sheen of fogginess, MacLean lets bits of light in, sunny-pop, bits of optimism. The control of this makes for a tremendous display in subtlety and as we all know, control, subtlety are all parts of elegance. Strange Geometry is a dream steeped in reality or perhaps real life perceived as a dream. Either way, it is lovely, graceful and you never want it to end.

3. Sufjan Stevens - Illinois (Asthmatic Kitty)
Committing to an idea like Sufjan Stevens' 50 states project is practically marriage, and one that is doomed to fail. With a goal ambitious as that, victory seems like a remote possibility at best, and he is either doomed to fall short of completing the quota, or worse, release a string of mediocre, half-baked albums. Fortunately, we can only hear what we have in front of us and Illinois, the second in the series, builds on the solid foundation of Michigan. Stevens takes the intimate and extremely personal Michigan and glitzes it up; Illinois is larger than life, full of child-like wonder. The tunes play like musical theatre: choral harmonies, orchestral arrangements, historicall literate lyrics and Stevens is able to step back from the intense relationship between his homestate (MI, duh) and himself and let loose. The result is a vibrant and thoughtful depiction of the Prarie state and a celebration of America that doesn't involve the name Toby or Keith. Yes, Stevens might eventually fail in his noble quest, but shit, I made it to #3 on my top 39, and considering my notorious penchant for slacking off and his up and at 'em enthusiasm, Sufjan might just make it.

2. Wolf Parade - Apologies to the Queen Mary (Sub Pop)
Every year there's one seemingly subversive album that everyone universally loves. It usually straddles the line between pop genius and quirky faux-dissonance. Apologies to the Queen Mary is that album for 2005. Everyone from the pop culture columnist of USA Today to the small-bill capped, moustachioed fixed gear enthusiast who hates everything has sung Wolf Parade's praises with good reason. With Isaac Brock at the helm and massive tours with The Arcade Fire and Modest Mouse, not many are crying foul about the silver spoon firmly in Wolf Parade's mouth, mainly because their art rock is so engaging, subtly unique, driving and packed with power. Co-vocalists Dan Boeckner and Spencer Krug trade off each of their unconventionally quirky howls, so much so that they compliment each other in some sort of gonzo harmony. They meld into one voice and every single track of Apologies to the Queen Mary contain so much fluidity and accessibility, that it's kinda like in the future when Wyld Stallyns inspires world peace. It's that mind blowingly good.

Drum Roll Please...




1. The Fiery Furnaces - Rehearsing My Choir (Rough Trade)
The Fiery Furnaces - EP (Rough Trade)



Wait, is there some sort of mistake? Is it possible that the Pitchfork-panned, Rosenberg-disapproved bomb is at the top of this hot shot's list? In the immortal words of Daniel P. Duggan, "Dude, it's me." If anyone has spent more than 5 minutes with me, they know that I swoon for the Friedbergers but I assure you, this crummy accolades list is not rigged. I genuinely believe Rehearsing My Choir is a unique and amazingly concocted success. Grandma Sarantos' Bea Arthur-esque spoken word is a slight hurdle for the unfaithful, and though Matthew's arrangement is as frenetic as it's ever been, there hasn't been a record this imaginative and out of left field as far as I can remember. No wait, there was Blueberry Boat. Rehearsing My Choir takes the Blueberry Boat model to a new level of inventiveness, musical historic nostalgic storyelling and song structure. Admittedly, its predecessor is slightly more accessible and well executed, but if Blueberry Boat shot for the moon and landed, Rehearsing My Choir shoots for Pluto and lands in some other alternate dimension through some hidden wormhole. It's dynamite.

Oddly enough, mere months ago the Furnaces collected their B-sides and rejects to put together the wildly poppy and accesible EP. Dancy, melodic and comparably straight-forward against its surrounding discography, EP is the exact opposite of Rehearsing My Choir and yet it still holds its own. What it lacks in cohesive storytelling and experimental arrangement, it makes up for those shortcomings with solid hooks and pop sensibilities. Okay, now I'm just gushing. Stop me before I turn into a blubbering idiot. Too late.

Isn't it absolutely wonderful that after making staunch rules for the game, I go and completely break them in the end (read the "Pre-Show" blog)? Well, you don't need me to tell you that rules are made to be broken. Fuck all y'alls, that's how I roll.

The New Pornographers: http://www.thenewpornographers.com/
The Clientele: http://www.theclientele.co.uk/
Sufjan Stevens: http://www.sufjan.com/
Wolf Parade: http://wolfparade.cjb.net/
The Fiery Furnaces: http://www.thefieryfurnaces.com/

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DP39: #10-6

Ooh. Into the Top 10...

10. Thunderbirds are Now! - Justamustache (Frenchkiss)
Not that I want to remind anybody, but in 2004, the Boston Red Sox won the World Series. By adopting the "Idiots" mantra, they meatheaded the their way to a championship. In 2005, Thunderbirds are Now! released the splendid Justamustache. Though they may not subscribe to this dogma, it has the same sort of "do before think" attitude. Justamustache rips and roars like a blind epeleptic in a china boutique; it's seemingly out of control and unruly. But when the last timbers finally turn to ash, you realize that TAN! had a thoughtful plan all along. Blending endless pop hooks with Les Savy Fav truculency, every snare shot, every cutting guitar line, every fiery synth are well planned out like some kind of genius arson mastermind. This leads me to believe that the Sox were smarter than advertised, that they fooled teams and the world into believing their caveman-style gameplan and it makes me even more pissed. And I refuse the acknowledge this.

9. The National - Alligator (Beggars Banquet)
On a movie and burger date a few years ago, the girl watched me carefully assemble my Fudd's burger with the precision of building a model airplane, picking and finicking so much that by the time I was prepared to devour my creation, she was half done. She proclaimed that "Pickiness is a sign of OCD." Since then, I've been noticing more and more quirks and mannerisms, sure signs that I suffer the same disorder as the old host of Double Dare. This spring, I received a burned copy of Alligator from a raving and ranting fan and I instantly took a liking to its blue collar rock dressed up elegant styles. I adored it so much that I bought my own copy. Then the unthinkable. I found the burned version was a completely different track order as the real thing. Absolutely crushed, I thought the love affair was over. After surviving the jarring first listen through, I was cured. Alligator is amazing anyway your order it, a tremendous balance act of delicate melancholic melodies and a "New" New York meets U2 rock glimmer, led by Matt Berninger's low, brooding voice. From my history of messy rooms, I might never have been obsessive compulsive, but I couldn't find a better way to receive confirmation.

8. The Decemberists - Picaresque (Kill Rock Stars) While cover songs can be loaded with irony and sarcasm, cover bands signify true love and devotion. So when Christopher S. Oveis and I, Christopher S. Wu (new band name idea: The Christopher Esses?) decided we were gonna embark on the amibitious quest to become a Decemberists cover band, bells were ringing and doves were afloat. Ironically, not so long ago, I deemed the Portland band a Neutral Milk Hotel cover band, a very good 60s brit-folk-vaudeville troop but doomed to the ominous fate of being compared to perhaps the best indie band ever. Maybe it's time away from Mangum or quality time with Meloy, but Picaresque breaks the mold, complete with twee-pop, sea shanties and Victorian melees. Colin Meloy's lyrics are littered with cartoonish literature and a whole host of big words making for wonderful storytelling. This is their own sound. Speaking of "own sounds", I need to get back to unleashing a killer UK-grime arrangement of "The Sporting Life" on the unsuspecting world. How's that for irony?

7. Architecture in Helsinki - In Case We Die (Bar None)
In the case of Aussie octet Architecture in Helsinki, whose decent 2004 release Fingers Crossed displayed an aptitude in crafting simple but off beat melodies, sometimes pop music doesn't need to be re-invented, and bands don't need to flip a 180 to make a statement. Quirky as the Corliolis Force (or in layman's terms, toilet water swirling counter-clockwise) and an as cute as an infestation of Koala Bears, In Case We Die is a bright eyed child's soundtrack to his imagination. The band shifts from complex and frenetic arrangements to bare bones rock pop, employs the use of a myriad of instruments and moves with the jerky but playful exuberence of a junior soccer team. Mayhem has never been so darn adorable, and Cameron Bird's geeky whine with Kellie Sutherland's sugary peep creates a imperfectly wonderful vocal harmony that nonsensical but radical dreams are made of. Furthermore, the percussion on In Case We Die is out of this world, an insane mix of bleep and clickity clacks while giving off an almost Japanese woodblock vibe. AiH hasn't rewritten history. They haven't broken any new ground. And even in their own growth, they've progressed only a modest amount. But if they had grown up any more that this, it just wouldn't have been this much fun.

6. Deerhoof - Runners Four (Kill Rock Stars)
In somewhere in the magical urban wilderness that is Oakland, there is a band's practice space that really is more of a laboratory. Rza and other rap producers have made reference to their studio as a lab, but this is more true to the idea. In this laboratory, there are explosive, hazardous, bubbling materials and substances. I'm pretty sure this is where Deerhoof practices. On The Runners Four, there is a beautiful marriage of their signature frenzied spazzy art rock and an exquisite taste for melody that transpires, something Deerhoof has tested in previous experiments to sometimes successful, sometimes freakish, and sometimes plain unlistenable results. But here, Satomi's airy chirp synthesizes seamlessly with the haywire guitar/bass work and Greg Saunier's inspired and perspired drum ingenuity. Like most wily mad scientists, there have been major accidents and bursts of brilliance, but it finally, everything has clicked. The Runners Four is a serum for boredom, a cure for idleness. It's a breakthrough for modern music and one can only hope that the collective scattered brains of these alchemists can lock on this strand and expand. Genius can never sit still, but for now, by jove, they've got it!

Thunderbirds are Now!: http://www.thunderbirdsarenow.com/
The National: http://www.americanmary.com/
The Decemberists: http://www.decemberists.com/
Architecture in Helsinki: http://www.architectureinhelsinki.com/
Deerhoof: http://deerhoof.killrockstars.com/

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DP39: #15-11

15. Bloc Party - Silent Alarm (Vice)
It's a hit. Silent Alarm is a hit. The crazy thing about it all is that it's so damn good. Hits are supposed to be catchy and flavors of the moment, they're not supposed to be earth shattering and impressionably lasting. Bloc Party has put together a ginormous guitar rock album for the dance floor using all of its most powerful weapons: snaking and visceral guitar lines, the savage drumming of Matt Tong, rock solid basslines and Kele Okereke's emotional vocal, an urgent and epic yelp that makes each song some sort of youth anthem. While Franzie carbon-copies continue to try to out sass each other, Bloc Party has created a great pop record that isn't easily swallowable. And if you look past the haircuts, whitebelts and throngs of teen fans, you'll find a worthwhile and legitimate rock and roll treasure.

14. LCD Soundsystem - LCD Soundsystem (DFA)
How much longer can I keep this charade up? Everytime I talk ass-shaking, I must preface my inability and lack of desire to cut a rug. LCD Soundsystem nearly outright ruined me. James Murphy's dance band project has been killin' em softly with singles over the past few years but his debut full length is hands down the best dance album of the year, a mix of big beat, post-punk disco and a sick amount of percussive ingenuity. While the rest of meathead America has finally come around to mis-quoting the famous Blue Oyster Cult SNL skit, Murphy just lets the cowbell do the talking, and man, is he wearing gold diapers. Murphy's sonic gumbo is unbelieveably tasty, from the Pink Floyd hallucinatory "Never As Tired As When I'm Waking Up" to the shit-is-bananas robot dance-inducing "Disco Infiltrator", and he does it seemingly effortlessly, nine solid tracks seem like a just a test-drive for the DFA head. One of these days, Murphy will force me to crossover for good. But until that day, I'll continue to nod my head civily, still retaining a shred of dignity. Just a shred.

13. Animal Collective - Feels (Fat Cat)
For some reason, I was contemplating the other day that the Brooklyn art-folk group Animal Collective should play an insane asylum. It'd be like Cash at Folsom prison, except at a nuthouse. I can picture the foursome rifling through their nutty and frentic pop songs from Feels while being showered by maniacal laughter and incessant crying. And when performing a slower ballady track like "Banshee Beat" they'd gather a group of patients who could "perform" their "imaginary tasks" as a sort of weird hand dance. It'd be lovely time, full of punch and pills, and some of the most crazy, beautiful, crazy/beautiful and imaginative music ever conceived. Then naptime would follow, or electro-shock therapy for any jerkface trying to stagedive.

12. of Montreal - The Sunlandic Twins (Polyvinyl)
With every new of Montreal release, I feel like a father with a new child. I'm well-meaning, and have nothing but love to share with each of my "kids", but helpless favortisms and unneccessary comparisons begin to take shape. I feel guily. But today, I stand for this injustice no longer. It simply is not fair to compare. The Sunlandic Twins stands on its own as a brilliantly crafted electro-disco pysch-pop achievement by the Athens, Ga band. Barnes employs funky disco basslines, intertwined guitar and keyboard work and his signature pop hooks and melodies, almost like it's the same loveable music dressed in new threads. It might not play soccer as well as Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies, get better grades than The Gay Parade, or stay within the drawling lines of Satanic Panic in the Attic, but goshdarnit, it's still special child and it won't be neglected anymore.

11. Broadcast - Tender Buttons (Warp)
At first sampling, Broadcast's Tender Buttons seems like a gyp. A once great pyschdelic jazz space-lounge foursome have downsized to a duo, the drum machine is in full effect and the minimalist songs sound like they're never going to blossom. But Tender Buttons goes from being a drifting piece of debris to a divine pearl with each passing listen. Subtle and gauzy layers of electronic sound build around the fragments and with each layer, Trish Keenan and James Cargill's project takes more and more shape. This pearl is not perfect though, far from it, but its unique beauty is part of the attraction. Distorted keyboards and muddled noises makes Keenan's voice all the more at the forefront; her eerie and dreamy coo is like an echo, like a ghostly voice calling through the dense fog. It might be easy to spot blatant beauty when it's gleaming in your eye, but unearthing the oyster, cracking the shell and discovering the gem is far more rewarding.

Bloc Party: http://www.blocparty.com/
LCD Soundsystem: http://www.lcdsoundsystem.com/
Animal Collective: http://fat-cat.co.uk/
of Montreal: http://ofmontreal.net
Broadcast: http://www.broadcast.uk.net/

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DP39: #20-16

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah, party people and music lovers! Let's cut the chit-chat and get to business. What do you say?

20. Bad Dudes - Bad Dudes (Brain Burger)
Rad name. Check. Awesome song titles. Check. Pant-soaking spazzy math rock. Check. It's all there, folks. From the ashes of the underappreciated and short-lived Dim Mak, spazz-pop genius Miracle Chosuke rose Bad Dudes. After you wonder whether they named themselves after the 8-bit NES game or whether they're street-tough, chain-wielding, leather-bearing thugs for about 15 seconds, your ass will be blown away by the thunder they bring. Noodling guitar lines bounce over neck-breaking drum beats, melodic meets robotic, and shit actually gets blown up ("F.F.B.O."). Yes, the "Dawn of the Dudes" is upon us, and it's really your choice as to whether to join up in arms or be trampled by the oncoming juggernaut of dudes.

19. Clor - Clor (Regal)
I'm not exactly sure what "plotz" means but the first time the ringing of Clor's bubble synth pop touched these virgin ears, you could say I "plotzed". You see, I don't speak Yiddish and certainly don't speak "dance", so the amount of joy and unbridled passion running through my veins in the opening bleeps of "Good Stuff" was unexpectedly great and extremely confusing. Channelling Gary Numan, Kraftwerk and at times more current brit-poppers like Futureheads ("Stuck in a Tight Spot") and early Blur, Clor avoids cliche suped-up revival modes of synth pop. This bouncy sound is real, almost lo-fi new wave in a very subtle way, and at the same time their tunes are bubbly and certifiable dance hits. Nearly every single track on Clor is club ready, and certainly Cool Kids Club ready.

18. Edan - Beauty and the Beat (Lewis Recordings)
Disenchanted by hip hop as a whole, I turned to MF Doom and hibernated, only bringing myself to listen his records. When I figured out I couldn't hide from the evils (and mediocres) of hip hop any longer, I was rewarded by my courage to resurface. Edan's Beauty and the Beat found me and restored my faith. Not since Cannibal Ox's The Cold Vein or Madvillain's Madvillainy has there been a rap album so unique and innovative, so fresh and self-inventing. Mixing rock pyschedelia and 70s funk, Edan melts your brain with layer upon layer of sonic bliss, confusing and hazy at first, but like a Magic Eye optical puzzle, when you lock on, things become so fucking clear, you feel like the Dalai Lama. His flow and lyrics are more a product of old school hip hop and backpacking coffeeshop indie-rap, clever and at times weird as hell. The combination of Edan's words and sound is not only intelligent and artistic but the first trippy ass groove where when you dance you don't look like a complete tool. For most people.

17. Menomena - Under An Hour (Film Guerrero)
My whole idea of modern dance revolves around the scene in The Big Lebowski, where the trio goes to see the interpretive dance performance by Marty. The thought of Menomena, one of Portland's brightest and best, soundtracking a group of bald, pudgy dudes, clad in leotards and leaves, doing some over dramatic twirlie-whirlies sounded amazing as much as amusing. However, upon hearing Under an Hour and viewing photos of the Monster Squad dance troop performing, I realized this was serious shit. Hard-bodied athletes, complex and engaging instrumental arrangements and expressionistic use of water, light and flour? I felt ashamed and disappointed. I was ashamed because I mocked something so ingenius, original and surprisingly accesible. And I was disappointed because my baseless and unrealistic dream of Menomena playing a Lebowski-fest came to crashing, burning end.

16. Headphones - Headphones (Suicide Squeeze)
God music is totally making a come back with Sufjan and it's somewhat surprising Pedro the Lion's David Bazan hasn't gotten a little recognition for being one of the original indie rock god-rock gods. Last night in a classic Jewese-Chinish X-mas celebration tour of any open bars in the Mission, Jacob "Hanukkah" Rosenberg and I discussed how Pedro the Lion (and other Jade Tree bands) were emo before emo actually became emo. Yeah. Headphones' lo-fi, bare-bones keyboard/drums sound is the perfect vehicle for Bazan's liberal-tinged, lyrically-visceral drone-pop melodies and his introverted, understated voice. These are some of the best songs Bazan has written, and if emo was actually like this, you wouldn't see fucks wearing "cheer up emo kid" t-shirts on the street, you'd see them sporting beards and corduroy jackets with elbow patches. That's a style I can roll with.

Bad Dudes: http://www.baddudes.net/
Clor: http://www.clor.co.uk/
Edan: http://www.humblemagnificent.com/
Menomena: http://www.menomena.com/
Headphones: http://www.headphonesmusic.com/

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DP39: #25-21

25. Maximo Park - A Certain Trigger (Warp)
A few months ago I proclaimed that A Certain Trigger "is just there. Nothing more. It just exists to be a continuation of the soon to be faded post-punk rebirth." I might have actually believed this or more likely, I was trying to impress my then girlfriend who seemed to not buy into da Park, with some hip indifference. I was wrong and I am stupid. First of all, this pop music at it's classiest: hooks galore, jagged guitars and slightly subtler than the all out raucous Futureheads. Secondly, my girlfriend probably didn't even read this web log, so who the hell was I trying to impress? I'm still listening to this album, months later, with my foot securely in my mouth.

24. Chad VanGaalen - Infiniheart (Sub Pop)
The holiday season is upon us and my roommate Panther has been crushing mad hard on the festive tunes. So I revealed to her I recorded a Holiday EP nearly 5 years ago. What I didn't tell her was that I recorded it in my parent's bedroom, fearing some weird but fairly unprovoked oedipal accusation. In any case, Infiniheart is Chad VanGaalen's bedroom recording and its singer-songwriter meets indie rock is heavenly. VanGaalen's talent lies in his refined songwriting style and his unique presentations. One second, we're bumping to an electronic drum machine, the next, he's crooning folk-tastic. Furthermore, it's actually somewhat refreshing that Infiniheart has no semblance to a cohesive album. His random and succinct songs are more ideas, accentuating the sort of lo-fi genius in brilliant bursts. Suffice to say, Inifiniheart is about one billion times better than my EP, music-wise, but if we're talkin' geeky hilarity-wise, I think I might be able to hang.

23. Silver Jews - Tanglewood Numbers (Drag City)
A lot is made of David Berman being a poet, but how about the fact that he's got a fantastic ear for melody? Tanglewood Numbers is the album that cements this theory, a true rock band album ranging from the rollicking, psuedo-Sesame Street "Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed" to the crunchy and contemplative "Punks in the Beerlight". Berman's lyrics are of course, goofily scholarly and off-kilterly beautiful, and there are tons references and metaphors to his dark times of depression and substance abuse. But seriously when I hear him harmonize with Cassie Berman on the twang-pop of "Animal Shapes", everything surrounding the enigma that is Berman dissipates, and he simply is no longer just the troubled poet, but a fucking fantastic songwriter.

22. Danger Doom - The Mouse and the Mask (Epitaph)
All I want for Xmas is to hear the MF Doom/Ghostface collabo. If this makes me a spoiled little brat, so be it. The Mouse and Mask should be sweet enough to satiate the biggest of hip hop appetities, but I guess you can say I'm just a glass half empty kinda person. I want more more more. Eventhough Doom brings his B+ game in lyrics, it's really all he needs as Dangermouse's beats completely carry the record. "El Chupa Libre" opens with Tribe-like hook while "Bizzy Box" recalls Dre on a happier (dre) day. But it's the orchestral soul delights of "Sofa King" and "Crosshairs" that really bring the house down. Doom is fine, just along for the ride; he must be saving his real good shit for a Ghostface collaboration, which if a rosy cheeked fat dude with toys happen to be reading this, I want right fucking now. Seriously Santa, let's make this happen.

21. Rogue Wave - Descended Like Vultures (Sub Pop)
"AC Newman, Matthew Friedberger and James Mercer all walk into a bar..." begins Jeremiah, to which we both almost simultaneous say: "and they all know Zach Rogue." Okay, so it lacks a punchline, but in all actuality, the joke is really on us. While we linger on how the Oakland-native dot-commer left his creatively-hindering yet super duper awesome band Desoto Reds to form a little act called Rogue Wave (an obligatory fact needed to be brought up in every mention of Rogue Wave), Schwartz aka Rogue and his misfit team of pop-lovers continue to forge on, making beautiful indie-pop music. "Catform" is at the top of the list going from twee folk finger picking to ominous fuzzed out atmosphere. It's a perfect example of how Descended Like Vultures is not as sacchrine as the mindblowing Out of the Shadow. However, this collection of strong tunes are arranged with much more density and complexity and a conscious effort to wander "out of shadow" (hi-oh!) of plain jane arrangements. Thank you, I'll be here all week.

Maximo Park: http://www.maximopark.com/
Chad VanGaalen: http://www.subpop.com/scripts/main/bands_page.php?id=445
Silver Jews: http://www.silverjews.net/
Danger Doom: http://www.dangerdoom.com/
Rogue Wave: http://www.roguewavemusic.com/

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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/

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DP39: #35-31

Alright friends, here is "part two" of today.

35. Six Organs of Admittance – School of the Flower (Drag City)
There was a point in my utmost desperation that I thought listening to Ben Chasny’s Six Organs of Admittance and reading Siddhartha would save my life. Everytime I laid down with the stereo on and book in hand, I ended up falling asleep, and consequently it took me weeks to finish the brief Hesse novella. Though I never achieved ultimate enlightment enough to pick myself out of the dregs, I did take some killer naps, which is more therapeutic than credited in most circles. School of the Flower is painted with atmospheric, spiritual pysch-folk, absolutely beautiful and haunting, and the mere fact that I was able to sleep to it is not a testament to its boredom but to its serenity. To say its blissful existence is merely a"nap album" would be like saying Buddha was just a man. Sure, there is truth in that statement but there’s a bigger picture to be seen, and more immaculate naps to be taken.

34. Metric – Live It Out (Last Gang)
A little dissonance never hurt anybody. With Live It Out, Metric push the limit of balance they strive to hold. In trying to make pop as edgy as possible, they trade in some of the top notch hooks and melodies that made their debut Old World Underground, Where Are You Now? such a knockout, and just crank the gain way fucking up. Seriously, they’re not essing around here. As a result, Live It Out for the most part is a pure art rocker, melodically abrasive, noisy and lovely and a visceral head bopper. Emily Haines is naturally the star of show, cawing and cooing as if she’s using her voice as a machete to chop her way out of a rainforest of noise. There’s no subtlety here, the salute to Sonic Youth is obvious, but that’s the way they prefer it. Ain’t no pussyfooting ‘round here.

33. Head of Femur – Hysterical Stars (spinART)
I, like most people, will periodically slip into absurdly childish silliness. For example, today I sent a real business letter to Mr. Thomas Grindrod. My spontaneous uncontrollable giggling broke the stale office silence, almost to point that I was embarassed. But I wasn’t, at all. It is this sort of unpredictable child-like exuberance that is bottled up into Hysterical Stars. With caution to the wind, Head of Femur create a largely dorky but shameless pop gem. They don’t have a care in the world. Their naivete and refusal to sit still is incredibly endearing and their mixing of pysch-pop, string/horn arrangements, 70s sunny rock and even two tone ska is borderline accidental genius. Reckless fun has never seemed so innocent, and there’s no real reason to wipe the shit-eating grin off your face, even if there are people watching.

32. Keren Ann – Nolita (Blue Note)
It really can’t get much more simple than this: French chicks really rev my engine. Israeli-French chanteuse Keren Ann Zeidel’s Nolita is half folkish noir, half wistful twee and all hubba hubba. Succinctly put, Nolita is a dream, bursting with delicate tunes and Keren Ann’s silky, hushed vocal. “Chelsea Burns” is a reverb-y Velvets/Nico-esque ballad and “Le Forme et le Fond” is a sexy ass groove, and all the while Keren Ann effortlessly glides with absolute grace and an admirable pretention that seemingly only the French can carry. Am I in love with this album? Yes, or if I’m permitted, Oui. (French for “fuck yeah” or so I’m told.)

31. Black Mountain – Black Mountain (Jagjaguwar)
Long hair, cut off jean shorts, meandering aimlessness. Yeesh. Beards, hard rock riffage with pop sensibility and a who gives a fuck attitude. Yeah! I am in a pickle! Or as Ron Burgundy would have it, I am in pickle? Perhaps not. Stephen McBean’s Black Mountain is a 2005 homage to Sabbath, Pink Floyd and Neil Young with a surprisingly fresh take. There is an unspeakable amount of vibrance that exudes from the wailing horns of “Modern Music” or the neck breaking guitar of “Don’t Run Our Hearts Around”. But it’s the spaced-out, at times uncomfortably confrontational “Druganaut” that schizophrenically flips back and forth from funky jam to head banging rocker and sums up the band’s brillance. If I see any pathetic hippie on the street, I’ll hold my nose and put my head down, but when a bum starts talkin up the crazies, I might toss him a coin or two. Whether it’s out of amusment, pity or fear is sorta undefinable. It’s sort of this goulash of sentiments that make Black Mountain such an appealing release. And of course, it helps that it fucking rocks.

Six Organs of Admittance: http://www.sixorgansofadmittance.com/
Metric: http://www.ilovemetric.com/
Head of Femur: http://www.headoffemur.com/
Keren Ann: http://www.kerenann.com/
Black Mountain: http://www.thewaxmuseum.bc.ca/jwab/

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Dude. DP39: #39-36

The lack of internet at the pad has delayed the list. Fortunately, I was semi-responsible and wrote a portion. Today is Saturday and we should be through #26 by now, but instead I'll get you up through #31 (in two parts). I know, it's savage to make you read so many words at once. It was meant to be five at a time... but tell that to scumbags at earthlink. While the re-emergence of access into cyberspace is not in the foreseeable future (target date: friday), we will nonetheless forge ahead. And away we go.

39. Nedelle – From the Lion’s Mouth (Kill Rock Stars)
Sentimentality can be a real bitch when it comes to objectivity. Nedelle Torrisi‘s got a voice that will lull you into a blissful complacency and doe eyes that’ll make you feel all fuzzy inside but all my hardest critics will call me out on this pick, saying “brotha has fat crush on her”. That might be true, I might be too wrapped up in hardcore admiration to see this clearly. But solid melodies, acute pop sensibilities and gooey, heartfelt subject matter make From the Lion’s Mouth legit in my book, and I can’t say no, even with my detractors claiming foul. I guess I’ll never know what drove this selection, but sometimes you gotta go with your heart and I’m sure Ms. Torrisi would approve of that.

38. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (self released)
The way I see it, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah have everything working against them. After immense praise from every corner of the world, the band must be bracing for a backlash that’ll leave them with stiff necks and an unwanted throng of pre-teen fans. A unstellar live set and serious over-exposure might be the death of the party, but nothing can take away what got them hype in the first place: a collection of quirky and well put together songs. The album is less than perfect and Alex Ounsworth’s voice can range from vintage Byrne to nauseating annoyance, but tracks like “The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth” and “Is This Love?” are certifiably catchy-as-fuck and hipster dance club gold. I see their eponymous debut as an inside the park home run with a misplay in the outfield. They have the potential to be mashers, but if they don’t start pulling their weight behind the hype machine, they might not be this lucky everytime.

37. Spoon – Gimme Fiction (Merge)
There is a reason why Spoon is playing the Warfield these days; plain and simple, they are that f’ing rad. Gimme Fiction is the most mediocre Spoon album (by comparison) in their 10+ illustrious years of existence (with an enormous exception of the completely creamy “I Summon You”), but that doesn’t mean the album isn’t still chock full of razor sharp attitude and rough edged elegance. Piano bangers, funky slow disco and classic rock piece together Gimme Fiction, and it makes for their most diverse record, for better or worse. But in the end, Britt Daniel’s voice is still the raspiest, sexiest croon in rock and roll (I even warmed up to the falsetto of “I Turn My Camera On”, Eric Bachman eases the pain quite a bit) and really that’s all Spoon ever needs to get on this bullshit list.

36. The Boy Least Likely To – The Best Party Ever (Too Young to Die)
The Best Party Ever might very well be the cutest album ever. The yellow album artwork is covered with kidz drawings of furry animals playing instruments. The album matches this unabashed, brink-of-hurling cuteness with an array of the plucky, plinky sound of banjo, glockenspiel, xylophone, beepy synths and the tunes are twee as Belle and Sebastian and as sunny as the Beach Boys. So, with song titles like “Warm Panda Cola”, “My Tiger My Heart” and “Fur Soft As Fur”, what makes The Boy Least Likely To not a sickeningly gross Hello Kitty band? The Best Party Ever is about growing up and the hardships of living a life of failures, which no Keroppi will ever have to worry about. Life is grand when you can eat ice cream for dinner and watch rated R movies when you parents aren’t home. But like we found out in Home Alone, sometimes you have to take some responsibility, especially when Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern is trying to rob your shit.

Nedelle: http://www.nedelle.org
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah: http://clapyourhandssayyeah.com/
Spoon: http://www.spoontheband.com/
The Boy Least Likely To: http://www.theboyleastlikelyto.co.uk/

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Roll out the red carpet...

Here it is, as I promised. The Dave Parker 39 Favorites of 2005 Pre-Show. I think I probably could have come up with something catchier than that. Oh well.

First, the explanation. Why Dave Parker? At the time of its conception, it made so much sense. I was thinking, Pitchfork does a Top 50, CMJ has a Top 30, andTop 40... well, I just didn't want it to get confusing. So Dave Parker, who wore #39 when playing for the Oakland A's in the late 80s, came bursting into my mind like the bull that he is. This is a man I loved at an impressionable age, and a man who would at times swing so hard he landed in the other batter's box. So why not honor the former Pirate, who was photographed in 1980 by great sports photographer Walter Iooss, Jr. smoking a cigarette, wearing a bright yellow uniform like a true player in the dugout (I wish I could find a copy of the pic to post, visit Iooss' website to catch a glimpse)? It can't make more sense.

I put a lot of consideration into the list. It can't be a reissue. It had to be released in 2005. It can't be a compilation of previously released material. Fiery Furnaces can only appear once on the list. It's all regulation, Michael.

There were two huge casualties to my strict and iron-fisted requirements, two that would have made the list easily if I didn't have these goddamn rules. Both of these albums saw a US release in 2005, but one had been out for over a year by the time hit the US, the other one, I actually already had in 2004 (UK connex, for realz).

First, Feist's Let It Be (Interscope) is a transcendent album of jazzy folk-pop, folky jazz-pop and flat out funky-ass disco. Her songwriting is top notch but it's Feist's voice that really carries the record, as Bright Eyes' cover of "Mushaboom" on the live disc Motion Sickness hardly does the song justice. And that's not even me bashing Conor, she's that unbelieveable. Her Broken Social Scene contributions ain't too shabby either.

Second, The Go! Team is flat out ass shaking amazing. I mean here we have an amalgam of 70s TV theme shows, 80s hip hop, 60s pop and timeless rock and roll fun. "Ladyflash" might be the sweetest of the bunch, but "Bottle Rocket" and "The Power Is On" both live up to their high energy names. I'm pretty f'ing lazy but if Thunder, Lightning, Strike (Columbia) comes on, you'll at least get a head nod outta me. Trust me, that's a pretty major victory.

Along with these two I'd like to present the obligatory "Award before the Awards Show" (recorded before the ceremony) award, which is pretty damn necessary. Given that I like round numbers and didn't want the year to end without me mentioning this one, John Vanderslice's Pixel Revolt (Barsuk) wins my Rick Honeycutt Just-a-bit Outside Award (lefty reliever Honeycutt was #40, duh). Pixel Revolt is Vanderslice's most solid album to date. Top to bottom, the record is full of great hooks and delicate melodies, such as the better than Digital Ash in a Digital Urn "Dear Sarah Shu" (I swear, I'm not trying to pick on Oberst, he's good, he's good) and the lilting, gentle "New Zealand Pines" (with vocals by Nedelle, who also appears on "Peacocks in the Video Rain"). With an all star support group behind him (including The Mountain Goats' John Darnielle and Silver Jews' David Berman),Vanderslice's descriptive mini-stories flourish with his rich arrangements, melding electronic with chamber-pop and straight ahead indie rock. Bravo, Mr. Vanderslice.

It's on!

Feist: http://www.listentofeist.com
The Go! Team: http://www.thegoteam.co.uk/
John Vanderslice: http://www.johnvanderslice.com/

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I live with an awesome and rare jungle animal

Hippie elf-chick with a can of Bud: Does it get any hotter?

The pressure is mounting, yes. I'm getting really excited to start this damn favorites of 2005 list. But as one half of me is cracking while considering what makes the list, the other half still gets to enjoy shit while the process is being completed. Thanks to "Panther", my folk-centric flatmate, I've been blessed with a baker's dozen of Joanna Newsom bootleg tracks, all unreleased songs. Many of them are lose-your-shit fantastic as the one which I remembered from her live performance. Tentatively entitled "Emily", here's a sample of the lyrics:

the meteorite is the source of the light
and the meteor's just what we see
and the meteroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee

the meteorite's just what causes the light
and the meteor's how it's perceived
and the meteoroid's a bone thrown from the void that lies quiet and offering to thee

Zoiks! I 'sploded when I heard this the first time. I was full-blown obsessed. Let me say it was much easier transcribing this from the mp3 than asking D-Wayne to write down lyrics in the dark when she went to see her the next night (if I'm correct, Joanna didn't even play it the next show).

I'm a n00b when it comes to stuff like this but I made a yousendit link, knock yourself out during the very short time it's available:

Joanna Newsom - Emily (live) (yousendit link)

I don't really know how this all connects but right now I'm listening to the new Fiona Apple album. I know, ewww gross. But the blogisphere has been buzzing about this for what seems to be about 2 years, ever since the "uncommercial" Jon Brion-produced album leaked, leading to the bigwigs shutting that shit down. Apple gets Mike Elizondo to re-produce the record, and bam, on the shelves and on my laptop.


Poor, poor Jon Brion. You just got served.

Sure, there are annoying parts and it is Fiona Apple, but goshdarnit, I'd be a damn liar if I didn't say it wasn't half bad. I was fooled a bit though. The first song, the title track "Extraordinary Machine" is crazy good. Apple's smoky croon bounces through a quirky-as-hump chamber arrangement as the plucky jazziness floors any unsuspecting humps, ie me. Then the album goes on being what I thought it would be.

You might have noticed I used the word "hump" in place of "fuck". I was reading my good friend, Jessica Crase's myspace blog about Apple's live show, where Apple "plays the piano like she's fucking it!!!" And for some reason though in plain sight it says the f-word, I read it as "hump" and laughed out loud that someone would use such an archaic euphemism. Imagine yelling "Hump you!" and meaning it. What world that would be. A great, great, hilarious world.

Next time: The Pre-Show!

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