best pop music of 2011

Music: Manchester Orchestra: An Imaginary Country (2011)

This time every year I find myself struggling to decide what my favorite albums of the year have been. I have to dither among dozens of very worthy contenders, and I think 2011 has been one of the best years in popular music in a very long time---or at least for folks with tastes that veer toward the 80s, postpunk, goth or have come of age during that fateful decade. Digital technology and the increasing speed of---and ease of access to---the InterTubes have made it possible for even the ramen-eating artist and bathroom dubber to distribute and circulate artwork widely, and I discovered a great many artists that have no label support that I absolutely love. It's really difficult for me to narrow things down this year!

I decided on a few criteria for my 2011 list, if only to help me cut down on how much I would need to write! First, only those artists whom I found myself playing over and over would make the list. This criterion eliminated a good number of albums I would say are "among the best," even worthy of the top ten, including Active Child's phenomenal, angelic debut You Are All I See and St. Vincent's delightfully angular Strange Mercy. Second, the artists could not be mainstream, meaning they didn't chart in Billboard or, at the very least, would not be played on commercial radio (indie radio airplay is ok). This criterion eliminated discussing what I think is the best album of the year, without question: Adele's 21. Besides, so much has been written about Adele that touting the virtues of this album---which is a masterpiece of soul-pop---is really superfluous. It's simply fantastic and mark my words: Adele will sweep the Grammys this year, even though you can buy her album at the coffee shop check-out line. Finally, my third criterion was that I needed to mention top albums that many of you may not have heard of. This is the hardest criterion to meet, since a number of the albums on my list meet my first one (viz., played it a ton) and are in tension with it, but, I thought I'd veer toward making some happy introductions for you music-fiends like me if I could.

So, armed with those three criteria here is my top ten of 2011 and, notably, I'm going to list them in order of awesomeness, beginning with "awesome" and descending toward "most awesome." With Adele out of the way, who will be my number one choice? Read on, fellow pop junkie.

10. self-titled by Bon Iver: Justin Vernon's recent masterpiece of creative synth-dripping folkishness led me to an obscure musical memory: back in 1989 Eric Clapton helped to score the soundtrack to the low-budget, film version of Whitley Strieber's bestselling alien abduction yarn, Communion. The film isn't terrible (although the alien scenes are pretty bad), and Walken's portrayal of Strieber is nothing short of unintentional hilarity, however, the most memorable aspect of the film is the late night bourbon sipping musical motifs churned out by Clapton: lonesome, somewhat melodic riffs waft above filter sweeps of synth, as if laying down the last hurrah of the sanitized sound of the 80s, all punk sensibilities finally purged. Well, Vernon's sophomore effort as Bon Iver is Clapton's soundtrack unearthed, but with his charming falsetto singing old-school Michael Stipe lyrics (that is, word-images more than statements) over the top. Now, if you don't believe me, I'm going to ruin any thought you might have had that Vernon's self-titled album is original: Compare Clapton's soundtrack to Jenson's beautifully strummed "Calgary." Hear what I mean? Now, either you're delighted with this comparison (as I am) or horrified. Either way, Bon Iver is a delightful, retro-statement that reclaims what is the worst, sanitized synth of the 80s and turns it into something gentle and, for me, breathtaking. It's a late night album meant for winter, but perfectly crafted and, given the raging success of his first album, a welcome risk-taking by Vernon---either folks will "get it," or they'll hate it. I, for one, think it's in my to five of the year (although I sunk it to ten because it's been nominated for a Grammy---yawn, I'm channeling my inner-hipster, beyatch).

9. The King is Dead by the Decemberists: Speaking of Michael Stipe, R.E.M. officially died this past year---and about two or three albums too late. Their retreat to "rock" in the last two volumes spoke more desperation than wisdom, more "burn out" than "rock out." Their work has been just a fuzzy mess. Strange, then, that Peter Buck would pick up a guitar and Colin Meloy and company to help produce what is arguably the best Decemberists album of their career (if not the best R.E.M. album in a decade; the opening riff of "Calamity Song" is clearly a bald nod to the Athens giants). The lyrics are stripped of arcane literary references and pared down to simple, evocative expressions of raw emotion. The arrangements are jangly and tightly crafted, and Meloy has taken the band in a much more Americana direction (harmonicas, steel guitar, accordion (!!!!) and other folksy instruments abound). What declared the decline of R.E.M. was their deliberate purge of the Byrds; what declares the Decemberists the heirs of fantastic American pop is the embrace of that Jangly Phoenix. To be sure, the British influences are still heavy (notably late 80s era Robyn Hitchcock this time), but they're pared with a distinctly folksy roots music sensibility making for a delightful marriage. Meloy's singing, by the way, couldn't be stronger---full throated and soaring at times, plenty of harmonies (not characteristic of their back catalog), and just great, straightforward lyrical expressions scrubbed of the British pretention that mars much of Meloy's earlier work. This is just a fantastic album that got pushed to the upper-reaches of my rankings because it charted on Billboard. Still, it's unquestionably a masterpiece. Bon Iver's homage to cheesy 80s Clapton may not be everyone's cup of tea, but any self-respecting American pop fan cannot do without this album. For serious.

8. Within Without by Washed Out: Bedroom crooner Ernest Greene gets the homeboy vote (Perry, Georgia in da house!) for producing the most lavish laptop album of the year. Searing, sweet-guy vocals float along sweeping synth and hip-hop beats in a stand-out "chillwave" spectacular. This stuff is a downbeat electronic music, the sort that's ripe for television drama soundtracks---the kind of music 2011's spate of unsigned keyboard kinglets and queenlets used to replace the mousy-chick-with-a-guitar folk blather A Fine Frenzy made famous, but it's still different and nuanced enough to merit serious listening---and enjoyment. Ok, the cover of Green's SubPop is also a bit too precious, and I suspect many would label this music similarly. Even so, I enjoy Greene's unrestrained singing and full-frontal embrace of 80s romantic synth pop (including the harmonies layered with himself, reminiscent of Camouflage's "The Great Commandment" or When in Rome's "The Promise"). What makes this album endearing is the obvious unrestraint---dude's just "going with it," making his own music, and if we like it so much the better. Three electronic hand-claps for this out-of-work librarian and his bedroom recording studio!

7. Black Orchid: From Airlines to Lifelines by Ascii.Disko: I discovered Daniel Gerhard Holc's incarnation as "Ascii.Disko" over a decade ago on a dance floor. At that time, Holc was fusing infectious EBM grooves with the in-vogue rash of "electro-clash" retro-trash, barking commands in French and German, a sort of crunchy-slick combination of Niter Ebb and Legowelt. Unlike the acts that mostly crashed when the clash became "electro-house" (whatever happened to the Chicks on Speed?), Holc continued to experiment and mold his sound, keying his keyboards to the pulse of ever-changing underground tastes of goths, rivetheads, and self-proclaimed label-defying hipsters. Black Orchid is an unexpected, trend-bucking, quasi-dancey low-tempo love fest, with hushed and whispered vocals and echo-chamber backing woos and moans. Melodic, postpunk guitar riffs and fuzz permeate almost every track, bringing in a darker, gloomier vibe than anything Ascii.Disko has committed to disk. For Holc, this stuff is minimalist, even understated, and guitar work is definitely new territory for him. Fans of darkwave and postpunk ambles (especially mid-era Wolfgang Press) will love this album which, regrettably, too few have heard of.

6. Common Era by Belong: I've been following this New Orleans duo for some time, whose sound began in ambient-drone soundscapes (comparisons abound to Tim Hecker's work, discussed below) under the aegis of "experimental." Common Era sounds a bit like throwing Pornography era Cure and My Bloody Valentine's entire oeuvre into a sonic blender, then playing it back underwater. There's more reverb here than you can shake a whammy bar at (reverbarama!), making it difficult to tell if a synthesizer or guitar is churning out the melodic drones. Unlike their debut, this album has noticeable song-structures and there is an emphasis on the plaintively sung male lyrics (which you will not be able to understand). It sounds a bit, I guess, like overly processed synths with a drum machine and sweet, boyish mumbles over the top, yet it still has a mood that is strangely moving and perfectly appropriate for late night meditations. It's music to take Codeine to, really. And if you cannot have Codeine---because, you know, opiates are yummy but addictive---a close listen to this album can at least get you half there, maybe induce some sleeping. But this is a good effect---a very good effect and good ear-chomping, and was my constant soundtrack on airplanes in 2011.

5. Hurry Up, We're Dreaming by M83: Mon dieu! French synth-gaze maestro Antony Gonzalez has not only found his voice, but the symphonic gesture as well. Owing to my tastes (certainly the reader has noticed a trend in this year's top ten list? Reverb ahoy!), I've been following m83's ambient soundscapes since the turn of the century, the sucker for down-tempo synth melodies that I am. Unlike a lot of his contemporaries, what Gonzalez has done over the past decade is innovate and change, never losing his signature, overly processed sounds but still ever-exploring, trying new things, and never putting out the same boozy-synth album twice. By most accounts, this double album is Gonzalez's masterpiece, the ambling drones and melodies replaced with operatic pop and---mon dieu!---his very pleasant vocals! It's a rare event on previous albums to hear Gonzalez sing; on the past pop-oriented gem Saturdays=Youth he farmed out many of the vocals; here, he has an alternately whiney scream and understated, hushed croon on a dozen or so tracks. Admittedly, when I saw this was a double-album I was worried: every m83 album has been a tight and coherent whole (with perhaps the exception of the debut); each album has been often shorter than one would prefer and ended too quickly, leaving you wanting for more. So, would this super-long foray into more standard pop songs be too much of a good thing? NO! It's a marvelous achievement of pop sensibility, lots of layered ooohs and ahhs and harmonics that bring to mind a Beach Boy sensibility and, dare I say it? Yes: the grand, operatic sweeps of Coldpay ballads. Yes, Coldplay. But whereas we love to hate Coldplay (the last album, even with Eno's help, is dreadful), in Gonzalez's hands those big gestures of symphonic, Phil Specter slabs of sound are fun, not pretentious. There's also a lot of unexpected surprises, like the cheesy 80s sax riffs that appear in the break-out single, "Midnight City" (strangely, they don't sound cheesy in the context of the song). And weirdly, someone ad Victoria's Secret's advertising firm latched on to this album early, as it's already featured in a commercial:

(Nothing wrong with getting paid, Gonzalez. Just don't start writing music FOR commercials and you're ok.) Another break-out track is "OK Pal," a lovely pop ditty carried along by a "boo-doo-wop" loop, with power-chords and, yes, more cheesy 80s-style synth washes that, again, work for some strange reason. This album is like the roller-skating companion to Bon Iver's re-port of Clapton's soundtrack for interdimensional aliens.

4. Aurora Lies by Work Drugs: And now for something sort-of different, except that 80s cheese is still in play (sort-of). This Philly-based duo describe their sound as "sedative wave" and "smooth-fi," but most musical cats would call it what it is: yacht pop. Take two parts Hall & Oates, one part Prince (primarily vocalics, but without the grunts), and one part Steely Dan, shake, and you have an Aurora Lies cocktail, a deliberately playful, ambling, stoner kind of groove with frequent falsetto, a groove that demands a head-nod and slow dancing and another bong hit. It's completely derivative and totally new at the same time; I've had a hard time explaining why I like this album so much---I've plum worn it out. I've become such a fan I ordered a band t-shirt, which I wear around the house and sometimes, occasionally, I give myself a nipple-pinch through it when one of their soulful, castrati choruses hits the sweet spot of my inner-ear. These boys are neither on a major labor nor distributed, so ya gotta get the album direct from the source. Get stoned. Put this on. You're welcome.

Now, for the record, I do not smoke dope. And even then, I recognize the merit of a nice, stoned groove . . . .

3. Ravedeath, 1972 by Tim Hecker: Of all the albums in my top ten this year, Hecker's Ravedeath, 1972 has been listened to the most. It is an experimental/ambient album of a sustained mood, unquestionably achieved through the primary instrument woven throughout but most obvious in the first half: a pipe organ. I think it's my most played album because I can listen to it while working, trying to sleep, or wanting to relax. Some of the experimental elements (jarring, synthesized feedback) work against the purpose of relaxing, however, even when the album is its most rowdy (part three of "In the Fog," in which the growling feedback flanges into an abrasive up-top wash), there's a subtle wave of calming organ that keeps the mood anchored in a kind of melancholic peace. The album starts quite strong in repetitive cycle reminiscent of Philip Glass' Organ Works and moves to muted clarinet melodies and Mellotron drones. If you're into ambient music---or more adventuresome, non-cheesy new age-ish stuff without percussion---you'll love this album, which is phenomenal, headphone bliss from beginning to end. If you're not, I feel bad for you. Go watch an action film or something.

2. Blessed by Lucinda Williams: Williams 2010 Austin City Limits appearance was nothing short of embarrassing, and damn near unlistenable. When I caught her appearance I was astonished by how bad it was; she was so drunk she looked like she couldn't stand-up (and reports from those at the taping said it took many takes to cobble together something they could broadcast . . . although I think the final edit is still questionable). But if Van Morrison can put the booze away long enough to produce musical brilliance, I had to have the same hope for Lucinda. And she came through with an astonishing record, brilliantly penned and magnificently executed. The opener is a high-octane, Texas-boozy send-off, no question, but goddamn the woman can write and slur articulately: "Good luck finding your buttercup," sings Williams, with a fiery snarl at whomever this poor soul is (he sounds like a real loser). After a spirited opening Williams launches into a sad, steel-guitar driven ballad about a lost lover (heart-wrenching), then back to a more up-tempo ditty, and so the whole album goes. On the whole, this is not a happy record. One of my favorite tracks, apparently about a suicide---"Seeing Black"---is about as devastating as Texas rock and roll can get, with Hammond organ swirls helping to build a slow-boiling anger as Williams chastises a friend or lover for taking the "easy way out." This is the kind of powerfully expressed, earnestly written record you put on driving across the country for uninterrupted hours so that no one can see you tear up. Williams just poured this stuff out. It stands right up there with Car Wheels on a Gravel Road (heck, I like it much better). The initial pressing came with a bonus disk of demos which, frankly, I don't recommend you listen to---they're raw versions, but are also missing the talented intensity of musicians Williams assembled to create the album proper. This album came out early in 2011 to lots of initial praise, then airplay and discussion seemed to fade. That's too bad. This album should be on a lot of top ten lists for the year, and I'm surprised that it's not. It's really, really good, coming straight from the heart and gut.

1. Skying by the Horrors: I've followed the Horrors since their 2007 debut album, Strange House, got the attention of the British press as the new goth garage band flavor of the month. I liked the album, but it's an acquired taste with more in common with The Birthday Party than the Cure (to which they were erroneously compared). The innovative organ work was the hook: it was like the stadium organ at a baseball game, but with crunchy guitars and screaming. I liked the follow-up Primary Colours much better, which veered into post-punk territory, much less angry and certainly less "spooky"; the restraint paid off and the shoegaze territory they were exploring (think Jesus and Mary Chain, still angry, just not as much) was promisingly pleasant. Skying is definitely the sweet-spot: guitars are still there as are the frenetic strumming at times, but these emos have discovered Spandau Ballet and My Bloody Valentine and mixed 'em together. The result is an unquestionably British brew, but, er, happy. Farris Badwan has traded in his screaming for a surprisingly pleasant crooning, even "la la las" at times ("I Can See Through You"); Rhys Webb and Tom Cowan are now playing with Mellotrons and eighties-style sweeps (gee, I know I sound like a broken record now), and the gang has discovered the brass horn family. It works. It really works well. Skying is an upbeat, poppy, post-punk thing with an unflinching embrace of dream pop, pop with minor chords and drenched with reverb, but dream pop naked and glorious nonetheless. The stand out track, which I have played over and over and over, is "Moving Further Away," which weaves a melodic synth cycle through an eight minute epic of soaring choruses over a Stone Roses style percussive amble (it harkens, frankly, to Happy Mondays era drug-a-delic deliciousness). I couldn't be more delighted with a pop album (the good, asymmetrical hair styles of Badwan and company are a bonus)---which is why Skying is my top album of 2011.