Best Album of 2012, Honorable Mentions

First Aid Kit, The Lion’s Roar

First Aid Kit initially got noticed covering a Fleet Foxes song on YouTube in 2008.  The song-choice proved fitting; since then, the Swedish sister-act has developed its own brand of harmony-rich, folksy Americana.  Produced by Mike Mogis (a gifted musician with production credits on records by Bright Eyes, M. Ward and Monsters of Folk), the Kit’s sophomore release has a number of tasteful instrumental touches that lend it some indie-country cred.  Bells (and whistles), glockenspiel, accordion, autoharp, mandolin, dulcimer, pedal steel and trumpet all pop in and out here and there, spicing up the mostly acoustic guitar-keys-drums arrangements.  Still, the main course, the foundation of the whole album, the engine that drives this thing, is the vocals.  Powerful yet reserved, throaty yet smooth, the two individual voices are each capable of holding their own.  But when combined, the effect is staggering.  These are the kind of harmonies that hit me deep, that seem to swell and grow and take on a vivid, luxuriant, resonant quality.  And rest assured, they’re not the result of multi-tracked studio trickery; I saw the gals play a pretty large ballroom and not only did they pull it off live, they stepped in front of their microphones at one point and filled the space with their voices, sans amplification.  Must be something in that Scandinavian water.  Highlight: Despite their relative youth (the sisters are aged 19 and 22), “In The Hearts Of Men” makes a pretty strong case for their maturity.  Reflecting on the trials and tribulations of life in general, it might be the most superbly sung tune on the album.

 

Frank Ocean, Channel Orange

Frank Ocean turned the hip-hop establishment on its ear last year when the release of his debut LP came with the revelation of his bisexuality.  The unrequited love that led Frank-O to the realization is beautifully, sometimes touchingly, chronicled on Channel Orange.  Confronting and revealing the pain and turmoil may have been cathartic for the then 24-year-old but, the album is anything but an outlet for sad-sack sulking (also, it isn’t wholly autobiographical -- Ocean peppers the set with tales of other distant, drifting or otherwise lost souls) and the accompanying music is nothing short of compelling.  The slow-burn R&B sounds at once thoroughly contemporary and respectfully Steve-Wonder-ous.  Taken as a whole, Channel Orange is a shining example of Ocean’s unique vision and noteworthy talent.  Highlight: Perhaps commenting on a generation’s attention span, the album affects a detached sense of channel-surfing as the songs cycle by.  Remarkably, even though it feels disconnected, it still holds your attention.  

Tennis, Young & Old

This, among a few other records, was the soundtrack to my summer.  Roadtrips, barbecues, yardwork sessions -- all were accompanied by the airy, unassuming pop sounds of the husband-and-wife duo from Denver.  Patrick Riley and Alaina Moore wrote their first album on a lengthy sailboat trip; it’s lo-fi, kinda surfy, and has a nice ‘50s feel to it.  This, their follow-up, picks up where it left off (the first song is appropriately titled “It All Feels The Same”) while increasing the drum presence, turning down the reverb, and generally polishing things up a bit.  Moore still sings in a delicate voice bordering on twee, her piano still anchors some songs; Riley still plays lean but loose, his guitar (along with some nuanced keyboard work) still provides brief flourishes hither and thither.  The tunes are fairly simply constructed and the entire thing clocks in at just over half an hour.  The album though, is anything but plain or trite.  Songs like “My Better Self” and “Robin” gently seep in after only a couple listens while the album-closing “Never To Part” (a cheery-sounding account of arranged marriage) does well to further the mood of the set before effectively capping it.  This mood, and maybe the whole aesthetic, might be best summed up by the repeated “High Road” lyric: “Paradise is all around but happiness is never found.”  Think about that.  Highlight: The fleeting guitar break about halfway through “Origins” isn’t overtly surf-rock but, it still rides a tasty wave of pure and easy good vibrations.

Best Album of 2012

Am I back?  Nah, probably not.  But I figured I’d blow the dust off ye olde GimDang to name the Album of the Year.

The Walkmen, Heaven
The seventh album from NY-based, DC-born band The Walkmen is a confident statement of purpose, a resounding declaration of independence, and a clear indication of the group’s mind state.  Heaven shows that America’s venerable statesmen of indie rock, active since the year 2000, are comfortable in their skin, wearing their hearts on their sleeves and their age like a badge of honor.

Conspicuously present are guitarist Paul Maroon’s now-signature chiming guitar tones, drummer Matt Barrick’s creative patterns full of tambourine and tom fills, and multi-instrumentalist Walter Martin’s (or Peter Bauer’s -- they trade bass and organ duties) atmospheric organ stabs.  Refreshingly, the whole thing sounds as if it were recorded live, with little overdubbing.  I can’t be certain whether or not this is the case but, it wouldn’t surprise me; the accomplished band is known to turn in fantastic live sets and has been playing together long enough to really establish a tight connection.

Perhaps most notable is how focused an effort the album is.  Where past material sometimes felt disjointed, like jagged puzzle pieces jammed together, Heaven presents a prettier picture.  “Song For Leigh” comes across as a fully formed, developed idea, one that the band who recorded “Revenge Wears No Wristwatch” in 2002 wouldn’t even try to attempt.

What’s more, the album presents a more grown-up, composed Walkmen.  Wait -- can it be true?  Have The Walkmen really come of age?  The opening song, “We Can’t Be Beat,” confidently affirms, setting the tone with subtle instrumentation (an acoustic guitar!) and a line that signals this sense of arrival: “It’s been so long / but I made it through.”  Halfway through the set, “Line By Line” reminds listeners that ‘the wicked will die, the honest man survives’ and that yes, “we all scrape by.”  Though the band’s old cynical distrust creeps in on “The Love You Love,” the Be-My-Baby-sounding “Heartbreaker” reinforces the album’s emerging theme and asserts “these are the good years / the best we’ll ever know.”

Seeming reflective, even contented, Heaven finds The Walkmen treading fairly new ground.  Case in point, the photos printed on the inside of the cover show the members of the band posing with their children.  Indeed, the tone and content of this album is more mature, more assured, more accepting than previous releases.  Gone is the howling Hamilton Leithauser of 2008’s “In The New Year,” gone is the angry, accusing protagonist of 2004’s “The Rat.” 

The lyrics on the title track speak to this newfound, or at least newly-realized, maturity.  Over a comfortably driving jangle, Leithauser looks back and sings “you’re my best friend / all of my life, you’ve always been.”  It’s like the band, young-ish as they may be, are finally ready to look inward, to draw their kin closer, to accept their heretofore-rejected nostalgia and settle into adulthood.  And adulthood, I should add, suits The Walkmen very well.

Foxygen at Holocene.

The far-out, fun and fresh-faced Foxygen played Holocene in Portland last night.  As a fan of the young (read: just old enough to drink) band’s newish album We Are The 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace & Magic, I was kind of disappointed with the show.  Still, I was enthralled and, perhaps more importantly, I was entertained.

The band took the stage looking kind of sheepish, maybe nervous or uncomfortable with their growing notoriety, maybe just affecting some kind of sense of road-weary ennui.  I don’t know.  Either way, they launched into “Bowling Trophies,” a fuzzy, instrumental slice of psychedelia complete with roaring engine noises and distant vocals -- the ensuing freakout would set the tone for the entire show.

Foxygen landed in Portland fresh off their polarizing appearance at SXSW, in which frontman Sam France had what some called a bit of a meltdown; they’d already been touring for months and, after taking off this April, they’ll be back on the road through July.  Maybe the life of a touring musician is taking its toll on France.  At one point last night, he started waxing philosophical, asking ‘what are we all doing in here, who are we, what are we doing?’ and talking about ‘psychological stuff’ happening in his head.  Whether or not it was all an act is up for debate but, when he sang, he came across as a totally capable showman.  His voice veered between lilting and angelic (as on “San Francisco”), deep and sultry (as on “Make it Known”), and bark-y and unhinged (as on the new album’s title track and “On Blue Mountain”).  Alternating between robot-style moves and aggressive, Jagger-like finger-pointing, he stalked the stage and engaged the audience with a wild, wide-eyed fervor.  Though he spent a bit of time with his back to the audience, singing to the drummer, France still seemed focused on the task at hand. 

France’s songwriting partner, and probably the bulk of the brains behind the whole Foxy operation, Jonathan Rado, seemed more in-control.  He stood to the side, playing guitar and taking turns on the keyboard with Elizabeth Fay (I think that’s her name) and France.  He wore a funny hat and polka-dot shirt.  Oh, by the way, France wore a denim jumpsuit. 

The set stuck mostly to material from Ambassadors, with some songs from the group’s previous release Take the Kids Off Broadway.  Conspicuously absent were standout tracks “No Destruction” and “Oh Yeah.”  Due to the album’s unabashed appropriation of sounds from the sixties, part of me also expected a couple covers from the decade to flesh out the set but alas, no dice.  Either way, the band treated its tunes less like concrete rules and more like loose guidelines.  France rapped a few lyrics on “Shuggie,” the band cut out my favorite half of the title track (which may or may not have had something to do with the fact that they invited a bunch of other dudes on stage and things got a little out of hand), and the musical twists and turns that subtly color much of the album felt way more abrupt and jagged live.  Though they didn’t perform the songs exactly as recorded, which I usually find refreshing, they got a little too far out for my tastes, which I actually found somewhat disappointing.  I ran into a friend after the show and he mentioned the bravery (bravado?) of the young, mostly unestablished band in straying so far from the script.  Maintaining your artistic integrity is one thing but, potentially alienating fans is quite another.  I suppose Foxygen has some growing to do.  They, and when I say ‘they’ I mean Sam France, came across as attention-starved theater-kids (not that there’s anything wrong with that), dramatic and flippant and unusual or atypical just for the sake of it.  Even so, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. 

Wow -- I’m still writing?  I’m really glad I got to see Foxygen and I’ll be really interested to see where they go from here.  Ambassadors is the easy (yet early) frontrunner for my album of the year pick.