Johnny C and the Sunshine Blog

PRE-LIST RAMBLE: Firstly, his post won't be completed until I get workin' and splice out individual sections from songs (about one per album).

Secondly, I found it incredibly difficult to come up with a top list this year. It's been a great year in indie music, but what I tried to do was come up with a list of what I felt were simply the ten strongest albums. Though I'm certain that some of the below could have easily made it on the strength of a single song, they're on the list because of their cohesiveness and general quality all the way through. Oh, and yeah, the songs are fantastic.

My cat just stepped on my keyboard, meaning it's time to stop talking and time to start rocking. Or uh, talking about rocking. And sometimes electronica-ing.

I"ll just shut up.

TOP TEN 2K5

10) Pelican - The Fire In Our Throats Beckons The Thaw

What the fuck? I thought I didn't like metal!

Well, okay. This piqued my interest when I saw it on Allmusic; it just had a ridiculously pretentious title and looked all ambient and stuff. It wasn't ambient, I learned soon, but it WAS instrumental. And as icing on the cake, when I shilled for it and opened it enroute to my house, I was tickled to see that they refer to themselves as "the Pelican collective."

But what does this say about the music? Nothing. I just wanted to give you some background. The music itself is startling and striking, the logical progression of Isis' music: it takes metal and they move it from place to place, seemingly at whim or random but always beautifully and thoughtfully. Consider the ten minute opus of the second track, "Autumn into Summer." It starts out sounding like a very pretty Explosions In The Sky outtake, or maybe something from the movie Fantasia. Then the drums come in and it's very much "clean metal song," but there's something exploratory and slow-burn about it, and of course the Pelican guys stretch it as long as they can, layering and layering and then stripping to one layer again and coming back in much faster and much readier for the inevitable shift to aggression, moving ever towards it. And then it hits and it's prettier than you thought metal ever was, and it's aggressive sure but hell if it doesn't make you happy inside. They don't even bother sticking with one pretty theme, either; when they exhaust one, they move on instantly to another one, another coda, and they pile on passages and riffs which would make perfect endings but they aren't, and they build into something which is VERY CLEARLY a continuation of the double-kick bit, and then suddenly they move into something which is a little more menacing and metal and then they riff at you again and your brain submits which, you realize by now, is what it really should have done in the first place.

That's ten minutes, and it's ten of the best instrumental minutes committed to record this year. The entire album is like that: dynamic and powerful, catching you off guard and hitting you with strange moments of beauty, menace, or both, where you least suspect them.


9) Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning

Instead of writing solely about himself this time around, Conor Oberst set out to chronicle - through the magic of singer-songwriter music - the mood in urban centres across North America. And largely, he's succeeded. Whether he's singing about our giddy descent into a cultural void, separation from those we love who are so close to us, or having sex while CNN is on the TV in the background, Oberst has almost effortlessly conveyed the present on record.

Oh, and it's a damn good record.

It's full of strong country-influenced Americana like "Train Under Water" (which is my favourite country song this year and should be yours too), the fantastic waltz of "Poison Oak" and "Lua," the single that somehow managed to top Billboard's Hot 100 chart early this year, is a heartbreaking and spare on an album full of heartbreaking and spare melodies, yet with Oberst reining in the bombast and melodrama which he so effortlessly puts into his music, it's somehow the most cathartic song on the album: quiet and resigned, its final refrain of "it was so simple in the moonlight" underscores the confusion and anger that comes from rash decisions, which (surprise surprise) is what Oberst implies led to the complicated geo-political landscape, specifically what the American government has become involved in. (Translation: he thinks Great White Father fucked up.)

Or at least, it seems to be the angriest part until the very last minute of the album, in which Oberst implores his band to "fuck it up, boys, let's make some noise," at which point they rip shit. Oberst howls the opening lines of the song again, and when he screams that he's wide awake you replay what he's been saying over in your head, and suddenly you are too.


8) Caribou - The Milk Of Human Kindness

I'm not sure what "folktronica" is, really. If this album's any indication, though, it sounds like a laptop wizard got ahold of some folk musicians who were maybe taught how to play by Salvador Dali and has paired them up with a Sasquatch to create some very weird, quirky, occasionally haunting music which is inspired by the abstract sketches, paintings, and other works of an artistically gifted child. On the off-chance that didn't tell you what this album sounds like, it could possibly soundtrack a surrealist version of Donkey Kong Country: though processed and patchworked, it's also incredibly breezy, light, and - dare I say it? - ORGANIC.

Two songs are proof of the intentions of Caribou, a.k.a. Dan Snaith, on this album. One is "Hello Hammerheads," an airy acoustic-folk melody with cryptic and casual, cavernous vocals which carves an eerie hole into your life for a couple of minutes, which is one of the things Snaith's trying to do. The second thing he's trying to do is, of course, jam as many fucking ideas into this album as he damn well can, exemplified by "Drumheller," which in one minute and thirty-three seconds seamlessly travels through three fully-realized passages, movements which are over just as you start to assimilate them into your being.

And if assimilating itself into you isn't a great goal for an album to have, I don't know what is.


7) Buck 65 - Secret House Against The World

White Newfoundland man with professed love for the music of Woody Guthrie and his contemporaries continues to make unique and strong hip-hop melodies while singing about the difficulties of being an encyclopaedia salesman, the fear of monsters and sex-fiends, and what sounds like the worst birthday EVER (rapped as a better whisper song than "The Whisper Song" itself). Oh, and don't forget about his kickass live instrumentation and wicked DJ-scratches. Catchy, folk-oriented new shit, man.


6) The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema

Someone cut these kids off of their sugar, and it shows. They managed to get out "Sing Me Spanish Techno," sure, and it's one of the giddiest pop songs this year, but hell, even more attack-based songs like "The Jessica Numbers" come off as introspective.

A.C. Newman, Dan Bejar and their crew have always put out isolated snatches of pop genius disguised as music albums, weighted with incredible hooks that catch the listnere and never ever let go. Of course, as I've said, they used to be sugar-coated, hyper melodies. Now they're hook-laden, quiet songs that explore tension as far as power-pop can explore tension; "Sing Me Spanish Techno" comes at a perfect point in the album, because it's the release of pop energy that the piano-thumping "Use It" and "The Jessica Numbers" have been hinting at in between beautiful, unusual pieces like "The Bleeding Heart Show" and Neko Case's sole outing, "These Are The Fables." Even the final track, "Stacked Crooked," is a cryptic piece which builds up for four minutes and, instead of actually exploding, decides that keeping some tension around isn't so bad after all.

I'd be pissed off if it didn't work, but of course it does. I can't wait for the explosion of pop to come again, though. Don't let me down, New Pornographers. I'm counting on you.


5) Spoon - Gimme Fiction

Shit, did I just say the New Pornographers work well in creating tension? Playing this album in your house calls everything cord-like to rigid attention. Seriously. Do it. See that extension cord?

THERE IT GOES

Anyways. Spoon's created songs of whimsy and menace, driving and powerful, strong and yet sublime. Britt Daniels has found a legitimate, memorable rock voice, moving from menace to arrogance to just damn-straight cool, he imbues the song with entirely new emotion, buffetting the fantastic instrumental work on this album so that the entire record works even better as a whole. Of course, the songs by themselves are masterful at worst; consider the effortless strut of "I Turn My Camera On," ratcheted up by Daniels showing up as multiple falsetto backup singers for his own voice. Or consider the strummed, sad nostalgia of "I Summon You." Or consider the incredibly tense, creepy Kraftwerk of "Was It You?"

Or just consider the very idea of dualling handclaps and realize that this album, in fact, has it covered on the already jittery and cryptic "They Never Got You."

In summary: they write stellar tunes, and then emphasize their strong points to create odd, memorable, original music. They make it look easy.

Oh, and they never got you, and you never got them. Uh-huh.


4) Sylvie - An Electric Trace

Calling an album by a local band the fourth best of the year may seem like whoring my music scene out. Believe me, however, when I say "far from it." Instead, I'm pointing this album out partially as an example that incredible bands can make stunning music while coping with an incredibly bad scene.

Sylvie's guitarist/vocalist, Joel Passmore, used to play bass for Regina buzz-band Despistado. When that band punched itself into oblivion, he went back to this, his more serious and less quirky group; with new focus and a lot of shows, opening for DFA1979 as well as The Weakerthans and touring with Uncut and Wintersleep, they've leaped light-years ahead of their previous album. Where I Wish I Was Driving was overdramatic and occasionally emo, An Electric Trace is decidedly low-key and taut, pulling out all the songwriting stops and creating soaring, introspective melodies that stand astride a fence separating beauty and edge. Passmore's vocals alternate between gruff-yet-melodic singing and acidic barking; his guitar work varies between busy but clean melodies and abrasive-as-hell atonal distortion.

Of course, Sylvie's a four-piece band, not a solo project. Chris Notenboom's layered guitar (and uncredited keyboard & electronic work - I've seen them live, I know there's keyboards and he plays them, plus I'll be damned if keyboards aren't involved in the instrumental title track) adds depth and strength to the songs. And he takes lead vocals on a lot of the numbers, displaying a voice that's strengthened and gained incredible control and confidence since their last release. One listen to "What You Find You Leave With," "Syntax," and "Rise And Fall" makes his vocal skills apparent. Riva Farrell Racette also hella kicks the low end with her busy, precise bass that bolsters the song rather than trying to be the star; with that, it's even better and more noticeable as a melody-booster, since her ear for a clever bassline is more readily apparent.

And man, those drums! Jeff Romanyk's like a Goddamn cruise missile or something: mathematical, precise, and powerful when he strikes. The drums on opener "Hit And Run," "Anatomy Of A Headline (Media)" and "Rise And Fall" are these off-beat, incredibly memorable beats.

All this - the low-key melodies, memorable guitar interplay, great basslines, and fantastic beats - layers repeatedly in anticipation of the final track, "Small Differences." It's one of the tightest songs that a band's put onto record this year; Notenboom's incredibly emotive vocals and Passmore's gruffer tones bend with an amazing melody and rhythm section, leaving Regina and the indie scene in the country awaiting their next release.

As an aside, if you can get to one of their shows, don't effing miss it.


3) Sufjan Stevens - Illinois

I honestly can't say anything about this record that hasn't already been said. Each second is a small triumph for compelling songwriting. Airy and occasionally tense ("Night Zombies," anyone?) songs burst out from underneath the best song titles EVER and simultaneously manage to capture the EXACT MOOD evoked by said titles in order to create one of the albums this year that's guaranteed to have as much freshness for indie-lovers twenty years from now as it does for those today.

If you can, get it.


2) Sleater-Kinney - The Woods

Dark, menacing and powerful, it's pointless to talk about Sleater-Kinney in terms of their previous albums, as far as The Woods is concerned.

Case in point: brace yourself as much as you want, but the power of the first chords, heavy and chunky and fucking HUGE, will always knock you back into your seat, and Sleater-Kinney is holding you hostage. They're suddenly not so punky or girly anymore, opting instead for what a lot of classic-rock bands just WISH they could pull off.

Oh, and as dense and bowel-dwelling as this album is, they've stuck to their whole "not-using-a-bass" thing, instead using incredibly thick guitars and clever guitar counterpoints to make full, rich tones.

And Janet Weiss is like a fucking vampire slayer or something. Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein have the guitar chops and great voices, but Weiss attacks her drumkit like it was a hellbeast coming directly after her and the only way to stop it is to hit is with sticks as hard and brutally as possible. When she cuts loose, the entire band kicks up a Goddamn whirlwind in order to keep her under control. That's right: in order to keep Weiss from ruining shit, they have to lift cows into the air and destroy trailer parks.

And destroy they do. Their politics aren't so heavy-handed, really; I own a NoFX record, so I know what I'm talking about. They do sing with an incredible amount of bite and swagger, the latter of which is only matched by the sheer balls of their guitar work. Everything on this album is based around riffs which are the very definition of "riff": a melodic, hellacious guitar line that makes kids with Zepplin tee-shirts go "Yeah!" Guitar workouts like the breakdowns in "Wilderness" and "What's Mine Is Yours" and the eleven-minute "Let's Call It Love" are cock-rock moments that would be the pride of anyone who's ever appeared on the cover of Guitar World magazine (except for a few metalheads but they can fuck right off. I hate that magazine sometimes).

And speaking of "Let's Call It Love," holy shit. It's a behemoth of a song, lumbering and massive, and then in one of the best moments on record this year it breaks out into a punky double-time interlude which you quickly realize is what the entire damn album has been building for, waiting and waiting for that moment of overwhelming rock release, and then suddenly it's done and it descends into a pit of guitar wizardry, and you don't even care that it's wanking because a) it's just so damn cool and b) hey, chicks don't wank very often.

And if you have any doubt, try listening to The Woods on vinyl (thanks, Jim). It sounds like a classic already.


1) Wolf Parade - Apologies To The Queen Mary

Of course.

I can't even talk about the band, suffice to say that Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner make stellar co-lead-vocalists and split up the album very well, Hadij has the best rock band job EVER (Electronics and theremin? WOOOOOAH!), and Arlen Thompson's drums on The Arcade Fire's "Wake Up" were a good warning for this album. It's all well-served live by the addition of Dante DeCaro who has the best name in rock music besides "Spencer Krug" and a hell of a pedigree from his time in Hot Hot Heat.

Instead, let's talk about the music. Wolf Parade has lucked out in the fact that it has two frontmen who are not just great vocalists, but incredible songwriters with a firm grasp of mood.

Krug's songs, which are just barely my favourite, usually, manage expansiveness and claustrophobia with equal panache, and are built on with weird-shit keyboards and "what the fuck did he just sing - did he just tell his girlfriend to pretend buses are quiet whales" lyrics that instantly charm the pants off of anybody you play this album for who isn't just a douchebag about indie music. Boeckner has a talent for writing great indie-pop-meets-arena-rock tunes and latching on to incredible, INCREDIBLE lyrical hooks - "We're waiting on something that'll never arrive"? "I'm not in love with the modern world"? "Here comes the nighttime"? "This heart's on fire"? (Read those last two again and tell me they aren't just straight-ahead awesome.) Taking something universal and managing to imbue it with personal meaning, that's a hell of a thing.

It's not really fair to play them against each other, though. Their tunes are often as different as possible, Krug's being very quirky, memorable tunes and Boeckner's being near-perfect rock offerings. Both show off their unique voices, with Krug's gulping vocals being a really good counterpoint for Boeckner's sandpaper howls. And they all let the other two members of the band strut their stuff, usually using some kind of fuzzy noise or theremin (YESSSSSS) and featuring awesome, body-movin' drums.

I'll have to let the lyrics speak for themselves, unfortunately. You can search them out if you choose, but part of the joy of listening to Wolf Parade is trying to figure out what they're singing and what they're singing about. If you listen, it becomes clear that Boeckner is a haunted man, and Krug's got a seriously fucked up past and I guess a bit of a fuckup dad or something too. Piece together what they're trying to say, and once it all fits you see they're glorious messes of human beings, just people who aren't perfect exploring what makes them human.

And that's what this album is. It's a glorious, beautiful mess, balancing incredibly catchy songs with strong, personal, GENIUS lyrics, and it's the most perfect and treasureable album this year.




That's it guys. You can go home now. Check back in the next little while for a brief pop-culture-2005 recap as well as the two worst songs I heard all year.

posted by John @ 8:15 PM.