1: David Bowie – Blackstar

Here, at long last, is my pick for the best album of 2016, weeks after that year sputtered ignominiously into oblivion and a full 11 days too late to honour the first anniversary of its maker’s passing. So much for my new year’s resolutions to be more efficient and punctual. Maybe I should start my best of 2017 list tomorrow.

But it’s fitting that my accolades for the brilliant “Blackstar” are behind schedule, seeing as how I put off listening to it for months following David Bowie’s death, a mere two days after the album’s release. Continue reading →

3:  case/lang/veirs

Dear Neko Case, k.d. lang, and Laura Veirs: Please make 10 more albums together. At least. The origin of this astoundingly simpatico collaborative effort may have been casual—out of the blue, lang emailed Case and Veirs to propose recording together and they quickly agreed—but it’s clear that once in the studio, these seasoned solo artists worked diligently to blend their differing styles. The truest vocal collaboration is the opening track, “Atomic Number,” on which each takes a line in the verse.  lang’s hot-buttered-rum alto gives way to Veirs’ sweet folkie timbre which cedes to Case’s high, emotive twang before the trio unites in exquisite harmony on the chorus. It’s the aural equivalent of a flower unfolding to full bloom. On the rest of the tracks, one sings lead while her cohorts chime in with pitch-perfect backing vocals. Veirs, previously the least-known and most stylistically constrained of the three, really holds her own, co-writing every song and taking the reins on many, including “Song for Judee,” a lovely, evocative tribute to obscure ‘70s folk artist Judee Sill, who succumbed to drug addiction. “They found you with a needle in your arm,” Veirs sings, “Beloved books strewn around at your feet.”  Producer Tucker Martine, Veirs’ spouse, adds charming ‘60s pop touches here and there. As effortlessly gorgeous as this album sounds, Veirs has said that the recording process was difficult and there may not be a follow-up. Let’s hope that’s not true. This formidable threesome is too good to be a one-off. (And that countdown pun merits a score of zero.)

• 10: ABC – The Lexicon of Love II
• 9: M83 – Junk
• 8: Bon Iver – 22, A Million
• 7: Angel Olsen – My Woman
• 6: Andrew Bird – Are You Serious?
• 5: Underworld – Barbara Barbara, We Face a Shining Future
• 4. The 1975 – I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful yet So Unaware of It

4: The 1975 – I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful yet So Unaware of It

Like its title, the 1975’s sophomore album is alarmingly long, equal parts amusing and pretentious, and ultimately unforgettable. And like the act ranked #9 on my year-end countdown, these Manchester lads pay homage to/shamelessly steal from the ‘80s pop canon—at times they sound like INXS, Scritti Politti, and Howard Jones formed a supergroup. But “I Like It…” (I won’t even attempt an acronym) manages to be both an entertaining throwback and refreshingly forward-looking at the same time. The melodies and production can feel akin to scanning through one of those “Just Can’t Get Enough” new wave compilations, but frontman Matthew Healy—a polarizing Brit brat who regularly vexes critics with proclamations like “The world needs this album”—sings lyrics that are in general wittier, more explicit and definitely more social media-savvy than his Thatcher-era forebears. “You said I’m full of diseases, your eyes were full of regret,” Healy warbles pleasingly on the sublime ballad “Change of Heart,” before adding, “Then you took a picture of your salad and put it on the internet.” But just when you’ve given yourself over to the Gen X-meets-Millennial groove, the 1975 disperses a handful of downtempo change-ups into the mix, of which the dreamy six-and-a-half-minute title track is the standout. The U-turns in tone might be jarring in less assured hands and at 17 songs, “I Like It…” threatens to wear out its welcome. The fact that it never does is something of a mini-miracle and a credit to this ambitious and hugely exciting young band.

• 10: ABC – The Lexicon of Love II
• 9: M83 – Junk
• 8: Bon Iver – 22, A Million
• 7: Angel Olsen – My Woman
• 6: Andrew Bird – Are You Serious?
• 5: Underworld – Barbara Barbara, We Face a Shining Future

5: Underworld – Barbara Barbara, We Face a Shining Future

Much like New Order’s 2015 comeback “Music Complete,” which topped my 10-best list last year, Underworld’s latest is an all-too-rare example of an aging group that hasn’t lost its youthful potency. Nine albums in, electronic envelope-pushers Karl Hyde and Rick Smith can still school the current crop of interchangeable EDM newbies on how to make dance music with substance. “Barbara” bats away all doubts with its striking opener, “I Exhale.” Over a throbbing industrial pulse, Hyde spits out spoken-word snippets that evoke overheard bits of conversation on a busy street corner or crowded Tube train. Crackling with urban tension, it’s the highlight of this concise seven-song set. A close second is “Nylon Strung,” the album’s closer. Where Hyde’s delivery is all edgy confrontation on “I Exhale,” here it’s warm and soothing as he chants “Open me up, I want to hold you, laughing” over a percolating techno beat. The tempo ebbs and flows in between these bookends, with the Latin-kissed “Santiago Cuatro” providing a lovely chilled-out interlude, but “Barbara” never loses its swagger. Bonus points for the year’s most intriguing—and touching—album title, taken from an exchange between Hyde’s mum and dad shortly before his father died. If this late-career triumph is any indication, Underworld’s future shines bright indeed.

• 10: ABC – The Lexicon of Love II
• 9: M83 – Junk
• 8: Bon Iver – 22, A Million
• 7: Angel Olsen – My Woman
• 6: Andrew Bird – Are You Serious?

6: Andrew Bird – Are You Serious

Following a succession of releases that showcased a delicate, cerebral sound, as if it were emanating from a bespoke jewel box, Chicago’s own Andrew Bird cranks up the amps on his latest effort. But not to 11, just to about 5: Where once dainty fiddles and whistling dominated, comparatively brawny guitars and drums now propel a few songs. The added instrumental oomph isn’t always welcome. The opening track, “Capsized,” is a generic ‘70s-FM rocker that would sound at home on side two of a Stephen Stills album. Bird also dials back his dense word-nerd lyrics, opting for a more heartfelt, direct approach, although he still can’t resist the occasional egghead verse or two, like this one from the bouncy title cut:  “Used to be willfully obtuse/Or is the word abstruse?/Semantics like a noose/Get out your dictionaries.” The new direction seems a tad tentative, giving “Are You Serious” the feel of a transitional work.  But all the tinkering pays off with the profoundly moving “Valleys of the Young,” which maps out in vivid detail the perilous peaks and valleys of parenthood. It’s a sprawling, guitar-fuel rock opus worthy of Neil Young himself and it lifts this intriguing-if-flawed record to greatness.

• 10: ABC – The Lexicon of Love II
• 9: M83 – Junk
• 8: Bon Iver – 22, A Million
• 7: Angel Olsen – My Woman

7: Angel Olsen – My Woman

Previously a purveyor of doleful indie folk—check out her relentlessly bleak 2014 breakthrough “Burn Your Fire for No Witness” for proof—this North Carolina-based singer-songwriter aims for a  broader, brighter sound on her fourth album. The results are fairly spectacular. “You’ll Never Be Mine,” an incandescent ode to unrequited love, shimmies to a ‘60s girl group beat. “Give It Up” hits the grunge-pop sweet spot between the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Nirvana. And “Heart Shaped Face” is a country-tinged weeper that recalls Lucinda Williams at her most poignant. Olsen still occasionally lapses into the Debbie Downer doldrums, especially during the album’s slower second half. (Or side two for you vinyl nerds). And the instrumentation and production are scruffy to a fault. One wonders how someone like Butch Vig might tweak the grunge-y guitar riffs on “Give It Up”— he’s had some success with that after all. But flaws aside, “My Woman” is a damn good, stylistically diverse set that hints at even greater things to come.

• 10:  ABC – The Lexicon of Love II
• 9:  M83 – Junk
• 8: Bon Iver – 22, A Million

8: Bon Iver – 22, A Million

To be honest, until now I haven’t thought much of Bon Iver, the hipster folkie act founded and fronted by Wisconsinite Justin Vernon. Something about Vernon’s plaintive falsetto, at times layered into an Enya-like ooze, as well as the sleepy, strummy melodies and the vague, non-linear lyrics left me shrugging. I even pooh-poohed the Grammy love the band reaped in 2011 for the indie hit “Holocene” and its source album “Bon Iver, Bon Iver,” which bored me silly. On the surface at least, Bon Iver’s third full-length album doesn’t appear to be aimed at doubters like myself. From its esoteric cover art to its eye-rollingly cryptic song titles (one track is actually named “__45__”) to the jarring electronic effects that punctuate its 10 songs, “22, A Million” almost seems designed to repel less daring listeners. But it’s the challenging aspects that make this the group’s best record by leaps and bounds. Whereas previous releases wafted by, barely registering, this one demands that you prick up your ears and pay attention. One minute you’re being pummeled by the software-generated tribal drums on “10 Death Breast,” the next you’re trying to parse the gospel hymn-meets-Laurie Anderson’s vocoder weirdness of “715 CrƩƩks.” It’s an exhilaratingly difficult work and one of the biggest artistic leaps forward by any act this year. But those song titles? They have GOT to go.

• 10:  ABC – The Lexicon of Love II
• 9:  M83 – Junk

9:  M83 – Junk

How much cheese is too much? French electronic whiz Anthony Gonzalez, the brains behind M83, tests the limits of that question on his seventh album. “Junk” is an unapologetic tribute to ‘80s pop that is sure to separate the fromage connoisseurs from the lactose intolerant. We’re not talking about the hipster-sanctioned ‘80s sounds of the Cure or the Smiths, no sirree. As the album title suggests, we’re in much less treasured territory—think T’Pau, Go West, and even, gulp, Peter Cetera. Goofy gimmicks and musical clichés are proudly present. There are power ballads, including the hilariously sappy “For the Kids,” which features a spoken-word interlude by an otherworldly child. There is a guitar solo by none other than Steve Vai, the king of overwrought ‘80s axe work. There is even an instrumental that sounds disturbingly like the theme song from “Gimme a Break.” All this pop detritus has prompted some critics to moan that Gonzalez has sacrificed the nuance and cinematic sweep of his previous works, including the widely praised 2011 opus “Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming.” I might agree if “Junk” weren’t such giddy fun in its entirety. If you’re looking for a tasty break from the cold gruel that 2016 has consistently served up, spread this on a cracker and enjoy.

• 10:  ABC – The Lexicon of Love II