Favorite Albums of 2016
This year man, this freakin’ year…
With the unrelenting torrent of bullshit that was most of 2016 almost behind us, it’s time to look back at one of the bright spots in a year full of dark corners —the music. Much has been made of all of the musical icons that we lost in the past year. But amid all that loss were some really great records that should give any music lover hope for the future.
Emo’s revival is apparently in full swing. I was not prepared for this. Emo was a brief but brightly burned memory in my early 20s that I had almost entirely buried by 2005 (a handful of Get Up Kids songs notwithstanding). I must say that some of the results of this revival — PUP, Pinegrove, The Hotelier, Martha — have been much more promising than the whiny, heartsleeved Dashboard Confessional-clones that overwhelmed the genre the last time around. Heck, early 2000s proponents of sweaty, underwear-only house parties Jimmy Eat World even got a fair amount of publicity for their latest album, Integrity Blues.
But I digress…
The newest wave of “outlaw” country music continued to spread it’s wings. I grew up with Johnny, Willie, Waylon, and Merle, so it has been a real treat to see Sturgill Simpson, Robert Ellis, and Portland’s-own Richmond Fontaine release fantastic albums this year.
Jazz, soul, and funk kept seeping into hip-hop. Or maybe it’s the other way around…either way, the result was a summer dominated by Anderson .Paak ’s stellar Malibu. (nxworries wasn’t too shabby, either)
And speaking of summer airwave dominance and hip-hop, the Bay Area’s Kamaiyah came out of left field and dropped A Good Night in the Ghetto, basically torpedoing anyone else’s chance of having the jam of the summer. If you didn’t bounce to “I’m On” at least once this year, you were missing out.
Amidst all of that, we had some stellar debuts (Sioux Falls’ Rot Forever), haunting finales (David Bowie’s Blackstar), forceful follow-ups (Savages’ Adore Life, Aan’s Dada Distractions), supergroup albums (Case/Lang/Veirs), rousing returns (A Tribe Called Quest) and so much more.
So let’s get to it.
Sturgill Simpson — A Sailor’s Guide to Earth
Coming off the breakout that was Metamodern Sounds in Country Music, it was anyone’s guess what Sturgill Simpson would come up with next. There are country elements here, sure, but not as many as you’d expect. I’d be willing to bet that there are as many instances of strings as there are of pedal steel. Some songs sound more like some ’60s era Stax recordings than anything else, especially the rollicking Keep It Between the Lines. The second-to-last track, Oh Sarah, is a chamber-pop masterpiece worthy of Brian Wilson. For a record that is all over the map, stylistically, A Sailor’s Guide to Earth still feels tight and cohesive. If Sturgill Simpson is the new face of outlaw-country, at least we know it will keep us on our toes.
Adrianne Lenker’s voice is a force to be reckoned with. It’s bold and brassy, yet on the verge of breaking into a thousand pieces at the same time. The same could be said for Buck Meek’s jittery, livewire guitar playing. Together, they paint bold strokes across these songs of friendship and love and life. Masterpiece feels like the result of years of songwriting, the culmination of a band’s celebrated career, not a debut from a band formed only a few years ago.
Kamaiyah — A Good Night in the Ghetto
While my introduction to hip-hop came at the hands of Run DMC, Sir Mix-a-Lot, and LL Cool J, it was The Chronic and Doggystyle that really captured my attention (thanks, Dre). A revival of that era of West-coast sound is all over A Good Night in the Ghetto. You can bounce to Kamaiyah just as easily as you can sit back and appreciate her raw honesty.
Car Seat Headrest — Teens of Denial
If I was twenty years younger, I would have spent most of the past year scribbling Car Seat Headrest lyrics onto notebook pages. Making lines into little totems and talismans to stave off the harsh reality of being a teen. Will Toledo’s bedroom project came into the full light of the studio with Teens of Denial, an album filled with witty observation, razor-sharp guitars, and thunderous drums — just a few of my favorite things.
By the time the horns kick in on I Have Been to the Mountain, I was hooked. There is a certain apocalyptic sound to the songs on Singing Saw, a dusty not-long-for-this-earth feel. At the same time, they are precious things, carefully crafted and finely tuned. Morby’s deliberate delivery and cunning lyricism can bite hard when it needs to. There’s a lot about this record that is basic, but sometimes the basics done very well are better than any gimmick you could come up with.
It’s difficult to give a nod to a musical genre’s heyday without getting tangled up in nostalgia. The music itself can end up evoking a bygone moment, instead of speaking to the present condition. So imagine my pleasant surprise upon hearing Malibu for the first time. Anderson .Paak easily straddles hip-hop, funk, and soul. And even though he is reaching backwards, it feels like something altogether new. Using a live band, the Free Nationals, helps. I’m occasionally a willing luddite when it comes to electronic music, because things funk and soul (and blues, and rock and roll) sound rudderless when there isn’t a beating heart playing the notes. If I numbered this “best of” list, Malibu would be right up at the top.
“This don’t feel like livin’, just surviving.” feels like the entire narrative of Robert Ellis’ self-titled album distilled into a single line. The songs, even on the outwardly jaunty Drivin’, are mediations on restlessness and broken relationships. Every time you start to settle in, his aching lyrics remind you that things are not okay. Happiness is fleeting, life is full of fitful moments of joy, and in the end, none of us really know where we’re going.
Drive-by Truckers — American Band
Patterson Hood has always had a gift for capturing the essence in an elegantly blunt manner. Both Hood and Mike Cooley are in rare form, lyrically, on American Band. “If you think it wasn’t racial when they shot him in his tracks, well, I guess that means that you ain’t black, it means that you ain’t black.” That’s from the raw, open wound of What It Means, just one haymaker in a song that’s full of them. It’s surrounded by songs that tackle head-on the NRA and gun rights (Ramon Casiano), school shootings (Guns of Umpqua), and just plain defiance in the face of obstacles (Surrender Under Protest), it’s an album that feels like essential listening for our times.
From the opening drumbeat of Lookout Aan’s sophomore effort is cocky and bombastic. There is a singular focus that shines through the course of this perfectly balanced nine-track onslaught that is undeniable. Their 2014 debut, Amor Ad Nauseum was stellar, but it hinted at something deeper, and that shows up in full force on Dada Distractions. It takes a ton of confidence to seemingly effortlessly blend so many elements from the last 50 years of popular music, while still sounding so singular, and Bud Wilson and company seem to do it without even breaking a sweat.
Sioux Falls (now Strange Ranger) — Rot Forever
This album sprawls. Clocking in at 72 minutes and 16 tracks, it’s quite a debut. You’d expect to hear over-indulgence, and there is that, but not in a bad way. The opening track, the excellent 3fast, clocks in at 6:19, so you know from the get-go what you’re in for. There is a charm in the roughness around it’s edges, like a practice session we’ve been allowed to sit in on. The result feels surprisingly intimate, for all of it’s noise and bluster. And if that practice session ended up running longer than expected, it’s hard to mind too much, because Rot Forever is a good hang.
I’m a sucker for ethereal, dreamy pop infused with a post-apocalyptic tenor and expansive lyrics. That is to say, Not to Disappear is right in my wheelhouse. New Ways, Numbers, Alone/With You, and To Belong are all songs that make me stop in my tracks and pay attention. And the uptempo No Care practically thrums with nervous energy. I’m not entirely sure where Daughter goes from here, because another album along the same lines would feel stagnant, but as a stand-alone statement, Not to Disappear speaks pretty loudly.
There’s a certain rough, bedroom-recording feel to Cardinal that I can’t quite place. There’s a uncertain melancholy running through the whole album. “how long will i wander by your side / how long will i wander? / i wonder if that’s what it might feel like / i figured i’d warn ya” sings Evan Stephens Hall on Visiting. And yet, it’s hard not to feel a little more grounded after listening to Cardinal. Speaking so directly to the human condition tends to bond us to one another, I guess. This album reminds me very much of The Promise Ring’s stellar Wood/Water, in a good way.
---
Also excellent —
A Tribe Called Quest — We got it from Here…Thank You 4Your service
LVL UP — Return to Love
Tom Brosseau — North Dakota Impressions
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds — Skeleton Tree
St. Paul and the Broken Bones — Sea of Noise
Angel Olsen — MY WOMAN
Junius Meyvant — Floating Harmonies
The Paranoid Style — Rolling Disclosure
Blind Pilot — And Then Like Lions
case/lang/veirs — S/T
Richmond Fontaine — You Can’t Go Back if There’s Nothing to Go Back To
Laura Gibson — Empire Builder
Telethon — Citrosis
Thao & The Get Down Stay Down — A Man Alive
Savages — Adore Life
David Bowie — Blackstar
Summer Cannibals — Full of It