The Year in Review :: Part Three: Quandary

In which indierocket! editor Patrick ruminates upon albums he didn’t pay enough attention to this year. More...

Against Me!, New Wave (Sire/London/Rhino)

Hey, signing to a label doesn’t mean you’re a sellout! Just about everything this Florida agit-punk quartet’s put out since ...is Reinventing Axl Rose has been filled with killer, sharp-tongued, fist-pumping anthems, and New Wave is no exception. Mostly, I didn’t listen to this because I gave it to a friend of mine.

Black Francis, Bluefinger (Cooking Vinyl)

Dear Mr. Charles Kitteridge Thompson IV: As a rabid Pixies fan, you know I love you. But I just didn’t get around to listening to Bluefinger. I’m sorry. But it’s not like Bluefinger is Teenager of the Year or anything, is it? No harm, no foul, right?

Bowerbirds, Hymns for a Dark Horse (Burly Time)

No, I don’t like freak-folk. But I like Phil Moore and Beth Tacular. (Plus I was a huge fan of Moore’s other band, Ticonderoga. Plus, Bowerbirds’ freaky folk is married with California sunshine-pop to a delightful degree.

Dälek, Abandoned Language (Ipecac)

I never watched Doctor Who. I also failed to listen to Abandoned Language. Serendipity? Perhaps. But I liked Absence.

Steve Earle, Washington Square Serenade (New West)

Steve Earle is awesome. Jerusalem is badass. ‘Nuff said. That said, I didn’t listen to this.

Earth, Hibernaculum (Southern Lord)

I like Earth. I daresay I love Earth, based on the little I've heard. And, if nothing else, I respect the hell out of the legendary Seattle drone-metal group. But while "Ouroboros is Broken" set the standard for drone-metal in 2007, that was the only track I heard from Hibernaculum.

The Field, From Here We Go Sublime (Kompakt)

Sing me Swedish techno: This made so many year-end lists that I’ll probably regret not listening to it.

Interpol, Our Love to Admire (Capitol)

I wasn’t a fan of Antics, so I avoided Interpol’s third release. But I loved Turn on the Bright Lights, so I feel bad about it. Dig that cover art, though.

Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, 100 Days, 100 Nights (Daptone)

Chalk this one up to a classic case of “Hey, I loved that one song, but I never listened to the whole record.” The title track is a modern soul tour de force, but that’s all I know.

LCD Soundsystem, Sound of Silver (DFA/Capitol)

Given its position on just about every year-end list ever, I’m actually ashamed to have not heard this entire record. As such, I have to keep it out of the big list, despite the unquestionable awesomeness of “North American Scum” and “All Your Friends.”

Lupe Fiasco, The Cool (Atlantic)

This one was a lot simpler: It came out in mid-December, and I just haven’t had time to digest it yet. But if it’s anything like Food and Liquor, it’s getting the shaft by being stuck on this list.

Madlib, Beat Konducta Vols. 3-4: In India (Stones Throw)

I’m sorry, I was too busy listening to the Yesterday’s Universe disc.

Modest Mouse, We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank (Epic)

Hey, “Dashboard” was pretty cool, wasn’t it? And that guy from The Shins was on it a lot, right? Maybe I just really want this to be good.

The National, Boxer (Beggar’s Banquet)

Another record I’m ashamed to admit I haven’t listened to all the way through, mostly because it topped several of my friends' lists.

Okkervil River, The Stage Names (Jagjaguwar)

Ditto. And I really like Okkervil River's first record.

Sigur Ros, Hvarf/Heim (XL)

This mostly good, sometimes boring Icelandic post-rock band kind of pushed me away with Takk... and flew too far under my radar this year, despite a heavy push from my boss.

Stars of The Lid, And Their Refinement of the Decline (Kranky)

Refinement received so many comparisons to Eno and Glass that I’m genuinely surprised that I didn’t listen to this.

Kanye West, Graduation (Roc-A-Fella)

Here’s my theory: Dropout was A New Hope; Late Admission was Empire. Therefore, Graduation is Jedi — not as good as either, but still a nice way to wrap things up.

The White Stripes, Icky Thump (Warner Bros.)

Yet another case of a band with a disappointing follow-up (Get Behind Me Satan) to a record I adored (Elephant). I hated The Raconteurs, too. But the single was banging. Perhaps I gave them one too many A-list sneers this year. Should’ve listened to this one; I generally enjoy The White Stripes.

The Year in Review :: Part Two: Vilification

In which indierocket! editor Patrick takes on the year’s biggest disappointments and biggest stinkers. More...














A Place to Bury Strangers, A Place to Bury Strangers (Pimp City)
Don’t believe the blog hype. Total Jesus and Mary Chain ripoff.














Arcade Fire, Neon Bible (Merge)
Whereas Funeral was an outstandingly cathartic meditation on death and the hereafter, Neon Bible is too much of a Born in the U.S.A. carbon copy. Sure, Win Butler’s still one of the better songwriters in indie rock, but there’s too much morass here (see “Black Wave/Bad Vibrations,” “My Body is a Cage,” the title track), which drags down the stellar moments (see “Intervention,” “Keep the Car Running”).














Band of Horses, Cease to Begin (Sub Pop)
Just because a record is disappointing doesn’t mean that it’s automatically bad. Au contraire: Cease to Begin is a fine record, far from a sophomore slump, applying a Southern spit-and-polish to the majestic Northwestern grandeur of Everything All the Time. But I said Ben Bridwell would miss Mat Brooke, and I was right — despite the addition of Columbia keybanger extraordinaire Ryan Monroe, Cease to Begin suffers from a ritualistic sameness, not from song to song, but within the songs themselves. While Everything All the Time relied heavily on pristine builds and emotional catharsis, Cease to Begin is too pristine, too precious and a little too tedious.














Bloc Party, A Weekend in the City (Vice)
Now this is a sophomore slump record. Was Kele Okereke too concerned about the rumours that he likes getting buggered by geezers to write good songs?














Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Some Loud Thunder (Wichita)
What did I say two years ago? Clap Your Hands Say Meh? I hate to say “I told you so” ... wait, no I don’t. I fucking told you so.














Deerhunter, Cryptograms (Kranky)
Don’t believe the blog hype, part two. Yet another begulingly Pitchfork-loved record that's no good, yet people went absolutely ape-poopy over it. Why?














Lavender Diamond, Imagine Our Love (Rough Trade)
Don’t believe the blog hype, part three. More boring than watching baseball.














The Mars Volta, The Bedlam in Goliath (Universal)
How does one say “Just stop it!” in Spanish?














M.I.A., Kala (XL)
This is what I wrote about Arular back in 2005: “oh, i'm sorry. i didn't realize "galang" was the indonesian word for 'shit.' it's as if every single genre ever known to man took a giant shit into a pot, and said, 'lo, this, too, is music!' it's not. it's the densest, most inaccessible piece of crap i've ever listened to. the only reason indie kids like it is because they think they should, because no one else gets it.” Kala is even worse, taking the worst parts of genres I both love (baile funk, electronica) and loathe (dancehall, dub, dirty house) and turning into an unintelligible mush of yelps, squawks and rattles. Sure, perhaps it’s one of those albums that I’ll never “get,” but that’s what this list is about, innit?














Minus the Bear, Planet of Ice (Suicide Squeeze)
One of Minus the Bear’s strong points has always been its temporary-yet-fleet-footed diversions into King Crimson prog. (See “Women We Haven’t Met Yet,” “Let’s Play Guitar in a Five Guitar Band,” basically all of They Make Beer Commercials Out of This.) But Planet of Ice’s downfall is its all-to-frequent excursions into bloated Floydian butt-prog. An underwhelming record from an extraordinary band with a nigh-impeccable track record.














Panda Bear, Person Pitch (Paw Tracks)
Admittedly, I’ve never been able to get into freak-folk. But after seeing this record top so many year-end lists — including the one penned by our dear indierocket! comrade Tug — I wanted to like this. But it just seems like paint-by-numbers ‘60s psychedelia a la The Beach Boys.














Pelican, City of Echoes (Hydra Head)
Disappointing only because Pelican is one of my favorite bands, and City of Echoes just isn’t up to the bar-setting snuff of The Fire in Our Throats Will Beckon the Thaw.














Rilo Kiley, Under the Blacklight (Warner Bros.)
At least Jenny Lewis is still hot.













The Rosebuds, Night of the Furies (Merge)
This hurts. I love The Rosebuds, both as a band and as people; Ivan Howard possesses one of my all-time favorite voices, and Kelly Howard is a keyboard-mashing looker with no peer. But Night of the Furies is bogged down in end-of-the-dance-party melancholy, willful hook-freedom, cheeseball-synth string arrangements and unusually flaccid songwriting. While I reiterate that not all disappointing records are bad — and Night of the Furies is by no means bad — they’re disappointments for a reason. What was wrong with being a garage band people could dance to, guys? Why go all Smiths-via-Human League on us?














Smashing Pumpkins, Zeitgeist (Martha’s Music/Reprise)
You all know how I feel about this. Worst record of the year.














Wilco, Sky Blue Sky (Nonesuch)
Anyone who says Sky Blue Sky is their favorite Wilco record is either a Nels Cline fanboy, a dad-rock apologist or a fucking liar. Sky Blue Sky isn’t bad, just boring, content to twiddle around with flat, second-rate ‘70s soft-rock songwriting. Still, “Impossible Germany” is one of the year’s finest guitar-driven songs, and Sky Blue Sky is at least better than A Ghost is Born.














Amy Winehouse, Back to Black (Republic)
There’s a web site devoted to taking bets on Amy Winehouse’s date of death for a reason. Even rehab couldn’t save this trainwreck.

The Year in Review :: Part One: Perspicacity

In which indierocket! editor Patrick identifies the albums released in 2006 that should have made last year's year-end list. More...











Cinemechanica, The Martial Arts (Hello Sir)
Speedy, strong, shape-shifting post-hardcore that grabs you by the balls and refuses to let go.













Ornette Coleman, Sound Grammar (Sound Grammar)
The free-jazz master’s best work since Science Fiction.














Colour Revolt, Colour Revolt (Esperanza Plantation/Tiny Evil/Interscope)
While the record doesn’t necessarily do the band the fullest justice, the grandiose nature of this Mississippi quintet’s epic indie rock is on full display. This is what ...Trail of Dead should be sounding like these days.














Gamenight, Simple Starts in the Mind (New Beat)
Nimble emo-prog from Knoxville buoyed by hyperliterate lyrics and acne-scarred broken-heartery.














Kaki King, ...Until We Felt Red (Velour)
Because when the horns come in on “You Don’t Have to Be Afraid,” you finally understand. Because “Gay Sons of Lesbian Mothers” is extremely elegant in its simplicity.














Kickball, ABCDEFGHIJKickball (Yoyo)
I went to Nashville with my dear friend Jordan Blackmon in May to record with our dear friend Aaron Graves. I took a bus back to Columbia, and on the way to the bus station, we listened to this wondrous gem of Franco-tinged Northwestern indie pop. After that, “Shoulders” never really exited my head.












Midwest Product, Swamp EP (Ghostly International)
I first heard “Swamp” — the World Series of Love version — in a Hummer ad. True story. This EP remixes that gem and throws in four new tracks of haunting, delicate glitch-pop.













Plastic Little, She’s Mature (Traffic)
She’s Mature is anything but — the Philly-bred raunch-rap ensemble is as nasty as it wants to be, putting Luther Campbell and company to shame. And yet, for all the smut, there’s true street intelligence (“Crambodia”), outrageous satire (see “Rap O’Clock,” “All Y’all Niggas Dead”) and flat-out club-banging genius (see “The Jumpoff”).













This Moment in Black History, It Takes a Nation of Assholes to Hold us Back (Cold Sweat)
The names are meant to be provocative; the music is, too. This Moment in Black History’s raucous trash-punk lays Dirtbombs that explode with Sandanista! fervor.













So Percussion, Amid the Noise (Cantaloupe)
When I saw this acclaimed New York Ensemble perform Steve Reich’s Drumming in Columbia, I was blown away. When I heard its foray into glitchy, percussion-heavy blip-hop, I was eminently pleased. Like any ambient music worth its salt, it adheres to Eno’s requirements to a tee.













Alan Sparhaw, Solo Guitar (Silber Media)
I’m a guitar nerd, OK? I like when guitarists from critically acclaimed slowcore monoliths fuck around with ambient guitar works, all right?