The Year in Music - 2009

In short, it was a bit of a crap year for music. Unless I’m getting old and nothing sounds good anymore. But it can’t be that.

Most albums I heard sounded like they should have been, at best, EPs, and at worst, shelved. For example, Julian Casablancas, Julian Plenti, Girls, Morrissey, and PJ Harvey. Almost all of these albums had a couple of good tracks, but none of them could sustain this energy and excitement all the way through.

In the battle of the solo albums by lead singers from trendy New York bands whose stars appear to be waning, Julian Casablancas barely edged out Paul Banks, who was so pre-emptively bashful about his solo output that he changed his name to Julian Plenti, just to fuck with Strokes fans and confuse everyone else into thinking he’d embarked upon a career in porn. And when I say barely edged out, I mean that the real Julian’s album had about four good tracks, whereas the pretend, porn star Julian could really only summon enough manly vigor for about two songs I wanted to hear more than once. One of those was the one with the video about the alter-egos and the hotel. Fake Julian really seems to have identity issues. Real Julian seems to be working on his.

Girls’ self-titled debut had some good parts, notably “Lust for Life” which was a fine way to kick off an album, but after that I can’t think of a highpoint to rival it. Plus it made me sad about the past when bands like Girls would have been also-rans. Now they’re the next big thing. Am I really getting old?

Morrissey is becoming (if he hasn’t already become) a cabaret star. I’m frankly surprised that he doesn’t have a Vegas residency yet. I think it would be very successful. He would certainly be better at it than Tom Jones, although he might not get quite the same volume/quality/style of underwear thrown his way. Years of Refusal had some corking moments (“When I Last Spoke to Carol,” “It’s Not Your Birthday Anymore,” among others), but Moz has yet to repeat the coherence of Vauxhall and I, after all these years.

However, my favorite song of the year on any album was, by some distance, Morrissey’s “I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris,” which gestured toward past glories, and was one of the very, very few moments of listening pleasure that caused me to drive recklessly while singing along this year. This is one of the key indicators of cultural confidence, in my experience.

As far as albums are concerned, I’m not even going to pretend there were ten worth mentioning from 2009. It was quite discouraging to witness the tyranny of the tastemakers in almost all end-of-year lists with regard to what used to be known as Freakfolk, and what is now known in our house as the Unholy Trinity of Assitude. I am referring to the triad of progressive nonsense excreted by Grizzly Bear, Animal Collective, and the Dirty Projectors. I tried to play along for as along as possible, but in the end I find myself compelled to suggest that the emperor might not be wearing any clothes underneath those nasty animal suits. Accordingly, Veckatimest, Merriwether Post Pavilion and Bitte Orca are all disqualified from this particular list, on account of unspeakable pretentious wankiness, and my newly developed allergic reaction to it. If I were stuck on a desert island with only these albums to keep me company, I would use the disks for skimming practice. I would rather live in a world without music than have to suffer the experience of listening to this effluvium. This phenomenon is perhaps the only reason I can think of not to live in Brooklyn.

As far as I can tell, then, there were seven albums that might have made a best-of list in any year, but I’m probably being generous. Of those that didn’t make the Final Seven, and excluding those which should have been EPs, there are a few I didn’t listen to frequently enough to form an opinion about, and which might grow on me in 2010. Those contenders would be The Eternal by Sonic Youth, Popular Songs by Yo La Tengo, …And The Ever Expanding Universe by The Most Serene Republic, Camera Obscura's My Maudlin Career, Bonnie Prince Billy's Beware, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' It's Blitz! and Stuart Murdoch's God Help the Girl project. Assuming that those albums do grow on me, we barely have a top ten for the year. Of course, if I could bring myself to listen to the two albums released in 2009 by the dearly departed Vic Chesnutt, then the list might reach respectability in terms of size and quality. But, like Elliott Smith before him, Vic's passing rendered his oeuvre indefinitely unlistenable for me, and Vic's death is almost harder to bear because I always found Vic amusing. Now that amusement seems like it might have been horribly misplaced. With Elliott Smith there was never any doubt that he wasn't kidding, unless you count "Needle in the Hay," which was a quite unfortunate joke to begin with.

So, the Seven, as follows:

The xx – S/T
I first came across the xx by way of a series of MP3 demos and a cover of Womack and Womack’s “Teardrops.” That early material was tantalizing, and it reminded me of my first exposure to Interpol. It’s always remarkable to come across a band who, even in their beginning, seem to know exactly what they’re doing, emerging into the open already fully formed. The album manages to maintain an underground feel while also establishing a trademark froideur which reinforces their coolness. But for all that, there’s something very soothing about their affect, and their effect. There’s a drone which becomes quite addictive, and the songs also serve as frameworks for some great remixes. Fully half the fun of the xx is hearing what other people do to their songs, so the album functions as a launching point for all those versions of the originals. It’s a very contemporary experience, and almost nothing came close in 2009.

Fever Ray – S/T
Speaking of froideur, Karin Dreijer Andersson from the Knife kind of specializes in iciness. She appears to see dead people (see below), and I assumed that the Fever Ray album would be too bleak for me to get anywhere near, but it’s actually surprisingly easy to get along with. I’m not sure I’d say that if I spent much time with the videos I’ve heard about, specifically the one for “When I Grow Up,” but the drone groove (see entry above) purveyed, if not originated, by Ms Andersson, is really absorbing. But not having seen said video, the song sounds like Bjork covering “Broken Wings” by Mr. Mister, if you can imagine. From beyond the grave, meanwhile, Nico is trying to make contact with her lawyers: “I see alive people capitalizing on my patented Teutonic Aura. Please to sue the arsches off them.”

Arctic Monkeys – Humbug
At first this album sounded like a reach. I should have had more faith in the Arctic Monkeys' irrepressible ability to find melodies everywhere, even if they are temporarily in thrall to the Queens of the Stupid Stone Age. Some people don’t like Alex Turner’s voice, but I think that’s their problem. He’s one of the wittiest lyricists out there, and his voice only enhances the barbed charm. It would also have been thrilling to hear this entire album covered by Morrissey, particularly “Cornerstone,” which in Morrissey’s hands would have sounded like an Edgar Allen Poe story.

Mark Kozelek – Ruben Olivares/Lost Verses Live
This list is starting to seem kind of depressing, setting aside the carnival barking of the Arctic Monkeys. Mark Kozelek sings like he wishes he was a cello. Some people find him kind of self-pitying. For as long as I can remember I have loathed the song “Send in the Clowns” with something more than a passion. None of the foregoing is a very auspicious way to introduce an album (well, two albums, since Caldo Verde sent me a freebie with my order – honestly, I don’t remember anymore which one I bought on purpose and which one came free) which finds its tone early and steadfastly remains there for quite a long time. But it’s a beautiful, rich tone. Plus, you find yourself imagining that you’re in Spain on a warm summer night, perhaps in the open air, hearing that voice drift sonorously toward and over you, and then you recover yourself just long enough to realize that the song you’re hearing is “Send in the Clowns” and you think to yourself, “Fuck it, even this sounds good when he sings it. I’ll have to remember never to tell anyone about this when I come down.” And then you’re lost again. Timbre music of the highest order.

Phoenix – Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
Meanwhile, back in the pop charts, Phoenix have emerged as unlikely International Idols, which is extremely gratifying to someone who was trying to get people to pay attention to “Too Young” and “Heatwave” ten years ago. What’s really interesting about this new offering is that they’ve started to blend their ridiculous pop sensibilities with an ambient dimension (see “Love Like a Sunset,” for example). This is what the charts should sound like, and while the crossover success of this album might be a blip, I’d rather hear Phoenix in my Cadillac commercials than a lot of other stuff.

Wooden Birds – Magnolia
This is an interesting new direction for Andrew Kenny of American Analog Set. It’s somewhat similar to Amanset, but it’s kind of like Amanset Unplugged. And, not to alarm you, it kind of sounds a bit like Lindsey Buckingham, but really not in a bad way. Pretty, pretty songs from the coolest indie kid ever.

Atlas Sound – Logos
I was ready to hate this album, because, well, because Bradford Cox scares me, honestly, and because it has one of those Animal Collective idiots singing on it. But it’s actually really catchy and fresh, like he’s been cleaning his room and he’s opened up the windows and everything smells good, for a brief time, before the stench of goth nastiness takes over again. “Shelia” is a terrific song, baroque, dense, and light at the same time. Bradford understands music history in a way that few can claim to, and he’s also the rare musician who can translate that sense of history into compelling music of his own. A few more months of listening might have made this an album-of-the-year candidate. Or alternatively, the heart of darkness at the album’s core might have revealed itself to me in a way that made me never want to listen to it again, thus securing its eternal banishment from this list. So perhaps I’ve heard it just enough.

UPDATE: I completely forgot to mention the White Rabbits' album, It's Frightening. I loved that album. Very Spoony in places, which is not really surprising considering that it's produced by Britt Daniel. So that would make it eight albums worth mentioning this year.