The albums that moved me this year, that occupied my record player and my headspace and more often than not, my conversations with anyone and everyone. Read and then listen and be moved.
St. Vincent, Los Ageless
Dancing delicately and painfully between seduction and frenzy, this album is a slap in the face. It’s an evocative power play that is smooth and aggressive and has awaited no permission. Annie Clarke, working closely with producer Jack Antonoff, was encouraged (or so I heard… somewhere) to focus more on the lyrical structure of this album rather than playing on every single song, something that I would imagine she initially fought against, but then got off on taking complete control of. Her voice feels stronger, her lyrics more biting, the meaning of each song more acidically palpable. The irony of Pills, a song about drug addiction sung as a nursery rhyme, and the relentless heartbreak of Hang On Me, a song that is almost deceiving as an album opener as it feels personal and necessary for the artist. New York is the best raw ballad of actual life and love in this town since LCD sung it their way. (ok, and I’m going to throw it in here… Ryan Adams too.) She herself was cast at times in a different (spot)light this year, as the object of affection (or destruction?) of Kristen Stewart and Cara Delevingne, and appearing in cheesy photographs on Taylor Swift’s Instagram, and perhaps lost a bit of control of her own mystery that way. However, Annie continues to flawlessly negate any norms or expectations. In the title track, the line “I can’t turn off what turns me on,” is an indirect response or explanation of slap-in-the-face that once again proves that her sound and her soul and her every move still turn us on, and we won’t turn it off.
LCD Soundsystem, American Dream
I discovered LCD Soundsystem about a month before their last show at Madison Square Garden. I remember nearly salivating as I consumed song after song, album after album, again and again and again and thinking, what the fuck. How did I miss this? And how are they about to stop playing, forever? Well, the music gods had other plans and this band has made a comeback. Their first album in 7 years, this one has just the perfect amount of nostalgia, taking very palpable inspiration from songs like Home, All My Friends, and You Wanted a Hit, they maintain that distinctive, unpredictable, alive and twitching rhythms that sound funky and fresh, danceable, and fucking addictive. I saw them at Brooklyn Steel two weeks ago and I’m not exaggerating when I say it was the best show I’ve ever seen. They hold nothing back. They give the crowd exactly what they want while keeping you on your toes. James Murphy has a unique grasp on musical composition that the crowd becomes puppets, reacting and living and breathing only through every next note. Their sound transcends genres; it’s a heartbeat. It’s a next step. It’s something to move you. Be thankful that they came out of retirement, and not in a Michael Jordan way but in a way that said, “We have so much more to give you.” More hypnotism. More audible layering. More that keeps us hanging on. More that we can believe in. More of what at least feels like the American Dream.
Mondo Cozmo, Plastic Soul
I can’t say enough about Mondo Cozmo (and actually, I already have). He has the introspective grit of Bob Dylan with a melodic approachableness, and choruses that have your heart beating and bleeding right along with him. I discovered him through the song Hold On To Me, which, when I first heard it, gave me one of those unique visceral reactions that every moment, beat, every note of the song felt so good I was afraid to keep listening, worried the rest would let me down. And it didn’t, not for one second. It developed into a stunning and permanently moving sound that hasn’t let me go.
That initial discovery led to a fascination Josh Ostrander’s story of changing his life with no means or promise or permission and chasing after his dream without looking back, and he has become an inspiration in my own creative soul searching. I’ve found myself so thankful to discover his sound and energy, and I’ve been holding on to him as this debut album has developed, after seeing him in that acoustically magical back room at Baby’s All Right when he had all of 5 songs (one of which was a cover) in his repertoire.
Other stunning singles on this album include the energetic and addictive Automatic, the captivating modern-nostalgic feel that carries you through Plastic Soul, and the tangible, relatable soul-searching that inspired Shine. Read his story. Listen to his songs. Get lost in this album. See him play as soon as you can, although trust me, he’s not going away anytime soon.
Perfume Genius, No Shape
It feels like a relief and a victory to hear how Mike Hadreas continues to grow his sound and share his soul, as if, hopefully, we have determinedly opened doors to acceptance despite the bigotry and ignorance that has tainted our reality this past year. And the best thing? He’s never intended this album to be any sort of fuck you or even to glorify our progress, but simply to commemorate and elevate the love he shares with partner (and collaborator) Alan Wyffels. It hits you, the beauty and intensity. It gives you something to believe in, and quite simply, to listen to. To get lost in. To dance along with.
The first song of the album is what hooked me. Otherside is an elegant harmonic dance that carries you, almost against your will, before smashing into a stunningly audible celebration where you’ll gladly lose your way. It’s inflated yet elegant and sets the tone perfectly for an album that speaks to a transgressive, and progressive, beauty.
The fierce, melodic “Just Like Love” commands, When it happens again, baby hold on and stare them down. A message, a challenge, a confidence seems to shape and yet be defined by no boundaries, no walls, no limitations; an album you can agree is pure beauty, without shape.
Bleachers, Gone Now
Let’s be honest, it’s rare that we listen to an album in its entirety, in order. We cherry-pick our songs, we put them on playlists. We isolate and recreate an artist’s intended experience, and inevitably, it creates a jaded experience from the songs we decide to love and a watered-down experience of the ones that don’t initially stick. We’re audibly fucking ourselves, guys.
Artists that recognize this and determinedly build an album as a cohesive and intentionally inseparable collection gives us reason to actively and thoroughly listen. It’s no surprise that the best example of this, and one of my top albums of the year, is from infamous producer and artist Jack Antonoff and his selected moniker “Bleachers”. Listening to the album Gone Now, each song pulls a little bit of another song into it and the effect creates an audible montage of familiarity, like a feeling you’re constantly trying to chase. It’s youthful and magnetic while still being one of the most mature compositions in his personal repertoire.
Note that this isn’t an album to be scrutinized for lyrical content, rather to recognize that the words contribute to the overall effect. It’s fresh, it’s bold, and Antonoff continues to somehow ignore everything that is currently going on in music to produce an album that is raw and audibly engaging and really fucking addictive. Don’t Take the Money is the song that first drew me in, perhaps because it felt refreshing amid the perceptively sexy and sleek songs commanding the audio landscape today. Always a sucker and purveyor for bold and bombastic sound, Antanoff stands out with Foreign Girls and I Miss Those Days, anthems that will play again and again in your head and will feel just as good every time you listen. It’s as if he’s taken pieces of the undeniably successful albums he’s produced this year (St. Vincent, Lorde, and Taylor Swift) and both inflated them and toned them down and mixed them into this unabashedly ambitious project and the result is pure magic.
Sampha, Process
The song that introduced me to Sampha was No One Knows Me, a song that is powerful in its simplicity and understanding of the beauty of melody and power in strong lyrics. Having come from a certainly notable background singing background with Drake, Frank Ocean, Solange, and Kanye, his debut album is meditative and self-explorative, with a hard-hitting dose of grief and confusion.
I’ve been lost in the modern exploration of R&B and soulful electronic music from Jack Garrett and James Blake and this takes notes from both while bringing the sound back to hip-hop. Deeply personal and intentionally memorable, the album’s standouts, which are all magnificently complex, heartbreaking, and audibly stunning are the aforementioned No One Knows Me, Timmy’s Prayer and Blood On Me. Focus on they lyrics, the feeling, and his soulful voice each while letting the entire album unfold, again and again.
What are your favorite albums of 2017? Tell me. I’m listening.
<3L.
LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!