Andrew's Best Albums of 2009

Well, here we are again at the end of another sensational year for music and pop culture, and here you are, reading a list of the best albums of 2009 for the umpteenth time. (It’s the third list on Stark in as many days, because that’s how we roll.) I really feel for you. These lists can get grating, and they can also get to be a little redundant, especially when they all pile up in the last few weeks of the year and tend to feature a lot of the same artists. It’s no different this year, but for the first time in a long time, the handful of albums we see topping most lists in December actually deserve to be there.

That’s why I’m referring to 2009 as the year the bloggers got it right. Go us! I don’t remember the last time so many albums lived up to the ridiculous hype that bloggers bestowed upon them prior to their release. This year, we got a couple of bonafide classics, most of which were heralded months in advance and proceeded to dominate our playlists long after they came because of how great they actually ended up being. Not so long ago on this here blog, I famously derided the band whose album tops my list this year for being noisy and indulgent. But then, after I could no longer resist the deafening buzz surrounding their upcoming album, I gave in, listened to the disc and was utterly blown away. I opened up my ears, and my throat, and my universe shifted forever.

So here are my favorite 20 albums from the last 12 months – the ones that I consider the best. I’m glad that others think some of them are, too. It was excruciatingly difficult to narrow down a list of hundreds of albums to a mere 20, and even harder to put my love for these bad boys into words. But in the end, the music makes the struggle worth it. The list begins after the jump!

20. Camera Obscura: My Maudlin Career (4AD)



Sugary sweet but never to a fault, My Maudlin Career is a lush, string-laden affair that takes its cues from the Motown Sound. But beneath the sweeping production lies a profound sadness. Lead singer Tracyanne Campbell is careful to mask her emotions at first, but as the band breaks down behind her with each progressive song, her heartache becomes clear when all that’s left to hear is a morose, Scottish voice lamenting on love lost.



19. Relient K: Forget and Not Slow Down (Mono Vs. Stereo)



There’s no doubt about it: Forget and Not Slow Down is absolutely, positively Relient K’s breakup album. And if you subscribe to the school of thought that most great albums come from the dissolution of a relationship, then Forget just might be the group’s best. But there’s a twist. Instead of singer Matthew Thiessen moping around for 45 minutes, he writes a cathartic, undeniably hopeful album for himself. His credo is right there in the title track: “I’d rather forget and not slow down / than gather regret for the things that I can’t change now.” Thiessen’s bandmates provide him with just the right amount of spunk on hooky songs like “Part of It” and “Savannah” for him to pick his life back up and move on.



18. Phoenix: Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix (Glass Note)



Was there a better surprise in 2009 than the emergence of Phoenix as the year’s breakout rock band? Propelled by two instant classic singles in “1901” and “Lisztomania,” Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix sent the veteran French quartet to Saturday Night Live, Cadillac commercials and even a Grammy nom. How perfect that for once, there was little disparity between a band’s critical and commercial success. Wolfgang’s immediately accessible, airy synth-rock makes it the band’s best album by a mile.



17. Girls: Album (True Panther)



Forget, for a moment, the impossible hype and grossly compelling back story that preceded Girls’ debut album this year. When you cut out the perfectly nostalgic videos and lead singer Christopher Owens’ escape from the Children of God cult, you’re still left with a remarkably assured debut. The 12 songs on Album are washed in lo-fi San Francisco surf, recalling classic Beach Boys melodies sung in Owens’ heartfelt snarl. The centerpiece is the psychedelic “Hellhole Ratrace,” which finds the drug-addled and heartbroken Owens professing “I don’t want to cry my whole life through / I want to do some laughing too.”



16. Julian Casablancas: Phrazes for the Young (RCA)



It’s far too easy to call Phrazes for the Young the best album from any of The Strokes members’ side projects, because it beats its middling competition by a landslide. (No offense, Nickel Eye.) It’s probably more appropriate to compare frontman Julian Casablancas’ first solo effort to the three Strokes albums: It can’t hold a candle to Is This It (then again, what can?), but it suits up well against Room on Fire and First Impressions of Earth. Phrazes is a giant mess, with delightfully schizophrenic pop songs transforming into futuristic blues jams mid-verse. Casablancas’ familiar croon and songwriting almost make the whole thing work, if not for a few tracks of filler toward the end. Still, if this is what we’re left with in the Strokes’ prolonged absence, we could do far worse.




15. Roman Candle: Oh Tall Tree in the Ear (Carnival)



Oh Tall Tree in the Ear, the third album from Nashville-via-Chapel Hill roots rockers Roman Candle has a crisp, natural air to it. The Metheny clan – singer Skip, his brother Logan and his wife Timshel – approach each song with little to no frills, preferring to let the songs breathe as songs and not as bloated productions. And there are some mighty fine songs here, from the driving pop of opener “Eden Was a Garden” to the disc’s best ballad, “Big Light,” a slice of Americana with swirling organs. For such a wonderfully simple album, it sure went woefully unnoticed this year.

Roman Candle "Eden Was A Garden" from Lake Fever Sessions on Vimeo.

14. Wilco: Wilco (The Album) (Nonesuch)



Wilco (The Album) is the most disappointing album on this list, if only for what it had the potential to be. There’s not a better opening salvo of songs this year than the 1-2-3-4 punch that begins with the joyous “Wilco (The Song)” and concludes with “Bull Black Nova,” a frantic piece of krautrock that teeters on chaos for much of its six-plus minutes. The songs that follow are certainly adequate, but none reach the kind of diverse and dizzying heights found at the top of the album. For diehards, (The Album) falls short of being essential, but for Wilco virgins, it’s a fine introductory set – a palette of styles from the band’s storied career thus far.



13. The Antlers: Hospice (Frenchkiss)



Trying to summarize the emotional weight that Hospice brings in a mere sentence or two feels cheap, so instead, try this: Listen to the entire thing from start to finish, and if you aren’t left with a giant lump in your throat (or bawling your eyes out) by the end of it, then you’re not human. Lead Antler Peter Silberman crafts a heartbreaking song cycle – ostensibly from his own personal experience – around a terminally ill cancer patient and her caregiver, detailing the fractured, complex relationship the two figures share. In the end, resolution isn’t as inevitable as death. “Some patients can’t be saved, but that burden’s not on you,” sings Silberman in the penultimate “Wake.” Hospice shows there’s no easy way to cope with loss, and while that uncertainty is rarely less than heartbreaking, it’s almost always beautiful.




12. Morrissey: Years of Refusal (Lost Highway)



There isn’t much new to be found on Years of Refusal that Morrissey hasn’t already uncovered a million times before. Yet the sad sack’s tried-and-true formula combining gloriously sardonic wit and theatric guitar pop still manages to surprise. The Moz has hardly ever sounded as aggressive as he does on “Something is Squeezing My Skull,” or more aching than on “It’s Not Your Birthday Anymore,” which strays dangerously close to contemporary emo but rapidly shifts gears from syrupy verses to a primal scream in devastating falsetto. Much of Years’ success can be attributed to the singer sounding completely invigorated on the album. That excitement is no doubt spurned by his powerful band and sterling production from the late Jerry Finn, who died after recording the album last year. It’s refreshing to hear the so-called ‘pope of mope’ write and sing with such assault in middle age.



11. WHY?: Eskimo Snow (Anticon)



It must have been daunting and nearly impossible for Yoni Wolf to follow up his magnum opus from last year, Alopecia. The fact that the WHY? frontman matched, if not bested, himself on Eskimo Snow shouldn’t be a total bombshell – the man is a neurotic genius – but it’s more remarkable when you consider that Wolf wrote and recorded both albums simultaneously. Since the two works must therefore be looked at together, Eskimo is Alopecia’s quiet, more fragile cousin. Compared to its counterpart, there’s nary a trace of hip hop present. The album is almost exclusively melodic, and actually very sweet in some parts (“This Blackest Purse,” the title track). But thematically, much is the same between the two: Wolf’s fears and phobias are still uncomfortably front and center, and we still marvel at the bizarre ways in which he puts them to words. Unless the band has a third disc culled from the same sessions hidden up its sleeve, now Wolf has the unenviable task of topping two brilliant albums.



10. Manchester Orchestra: Mean Everything to Nothing (Favorite Gentlemen/Canvasback)



The second proper full-length from Manchester Orchestra is a revelation, earning just comparisons to two of the best sophomore albums from 1990’s alt-rock heavyweights: Weezer’s Pinkerton and Foo Fighters’ The Colour and the Shape. Like those two gems, this album expands upon its predecessor in every way: It's full of raw angst and unfiltered poetry from frontman Andy Hull. He captures what it's like to be a twentysomething on the precipice of a new, adult life, split between shunning that tide and reluctantly embracing it. The music is so perfectly composed of passion, quirk and feedback that the band's sound and influences are immediate: Nirvana (“In My Teeth”), Neutral Milk Hotel (“The Only One”) and Modest Mouse (“I’ve Got Friends.”) At the ripe old age of 22, Hull possesses songwriting talent far beyond his years, which is a joy for the rest of us waiting for his next move.



9. Passion Pit: Manners (Frenchkiss)



At the end of last year, Passion Pit was blowing up in the blogosphere with its infectious Chunk of Change EP, which was rife with goofy dance beats and an even more outlandish falsetto courtesy of singer Michael Angelakos. The EP was a delightful diversion, but there seemed to be a consensus that the band was little more than flash-in-the-pan, and couldn’t possibly sustain its sound – especially that inane voice! – for an entire album. Manners triumphantly proved the skeptics wrong. It beams with light and unbridled energy, weaving through an array of styles with astonishing ease. Angelakos and co. also proved they were capable of creating moments of sheer splendor, like the collision of sitar and vocal chants in “Moth’s Wings” and the enchanting final choruses of “Seaweed Song.”



8. Sondre Lerche: Heartbeat Radio (Rounder)



Somewhere out there, in an alternate universe where restrictions of time and trend have no bearing on popularity, every song on Sondre Lerche’s Heartbeat Radio is a massive radio hit. Unfortunately, today’s Top 40 airplay – hell, even modern rock – has no room for the superbly weird Lerche, the rare artist whose every left-field move gets thrown to the wall and has a habit of sticking. The young Norwegian songwriter does it all on Heartbeat, from lounge balladry (“Like Lazenby”) to Tin Pan Alley (“Words & Music”) to space-age psychedelia (“Pioneer.”) Lerche may never earn the type of ubiquity that he deserves (nor does he want it), but as a consolation prize, he’s got a long, unpredictable career ahead of him.



7. Brand New: Daisy (Procrastinate Music Traitors/Interscope)



The members of Brand New are relentless in their refusal to stay in one place for too long. After three albums that sound virtually nothing like each other, Daisy keeps to the same pattern. But for the first time, the band doesn’t just jump styles between albums – this one follows 2006’s The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me – it takes jarring leaps between songs on the same one. Daisy kicks off with the oddest and heaviest song in the Brand New catalog (“Vices,” a post-hardcore stomp with illegible screaming) and is immediately succeeded by the quietest (“Bed,” a lazy grunge ballad that finds singer Jesse Lacey doing his best Kurt Cobain impression.) It’s by far the most mystifying set by the band yet, but like each one before it, it’s dazzling.



6. fun.: Aim and Ignite (Nettwerk)



When Arizona pop maestros The Format called it quits early last year, singer Nate Reuss wasted no time in picking himself up, moving to Brooklyn and starting a new band with members of Steel Train and Anathallo named fun. Just as The Format’s final opus, Dog Problems, was a slice of sweeping, 1970's pop, so is its logical successor, Aim & Ignite. There's so much to love here: orchestral flourishes, enchanting harmonies, tinges of gospel and a wonderful dichotomy between Reuss's melancholy words and happy-go-lucky hooks. Appropriately enough, it’s really the most fun put to tape all year.



5. Fanfarlo: Reservoir (Atlantic)



Matched with the same dramatic intensity and penchant for slow-building climaxes, Fanfarlo sounds like a more twee version of Arcade Fire. Similarities between Reservoir and the landmark Funeral abound – horns and strings, male and female vocal interplay, marching rhythms – but unlike so many copycats that blatantly imitate the Canadian behemoths’ sound, Fanfarlo might actually improve it. Win Butler doesn’t quite have the tremendous pop sensibility as Fanfarlo bandleader Simon Balthazar, who effortlessly twists out charming melodies in his soothing drawl all over Reservoir’s songs. His voice rarely rises above a hush, instead honing power from the instruments behind him to drive the point home. Debut albums with such stunning focus don’t come around often.



4. Grizzly Bear: Veckatimest (Warp)



Veckatimest has the potential to be a classic just from its soft, striking bookends: A dirty jazz riff gets fiddled around in the background at the start of “Southern Point,” and a haunting piano refrain fades into stillness at the end of “Foreground.” These are two amazing moments, but what about when every soaring height and lingering low that’s in between is even better? Well, that’s when an album is timeless. The four masterminds in Grizzly Bear laboriously created Veckatimest with precision and finesse, aiming to challenge our pre-conceived ideas of what constitutes beauty in modern music and succeeding more than anyone could have imagined.



3. Dirty Projectors: Bitte Orca (Domino)



There’s no middle ground with Dirty Projectors. You either emphatically love or diabolically loathe them. You either want to ascend to the heavens with Dave Longstreth and company or off yourself for fear of further subjection to the band’s incessant noodling and obvious pretension. Depending on which camp you fall in, the group’s sixth album Bitte Orca is either a sprawling mishmash of fractured song ideas and odd time signatures, or an inspired masterpiece of fully formed songs with so many complex layers that you discover something new and great each time you listen. With that being said, this is the third best album of the year.



2. The Avett Brothers: I and Love and You (American)



In contrast to Dirty Projectors, it’s hard to find anyone who doesn't like The Avett Brothers. The folk rockers have been pouring their hearts out with acoustic guitars and banjos for close to a decade, building a big adoring, fan base and just as many casual admirers. For their major-label debut, I and Love and You, the group scaled down much of the raw, rollicking sound that defined its earlier albums in favor of a more polished collection of midtempo ballads. While a move like that often spells trouble, the group pulled off just the opposite: These are the best songs they’ve ever written. Every word on the album is personal to brothers Scott and Seth but profoundly universal to the world at the same time, and it takes exceptional artists to find that kind of balance in their songwriting. With I and Love and You, The Avett Brothers have given us two things: an enduring piece of work, and a collection of songs to speak for us when we can’t find the words.



1. Animal Collective: Merriweather Post Pavilion (Domino)



In the end, the best album of the year ended up being the very first one to be released, even though most of us were rocking the leak last December. Merriweather Post Pavilion’s January 6 arrival not only set the bar ridiculously high for every release to follow, but it made it virtually impossible for anyone else over the next 12 months to even try to play catch up. Somehow, in a perfect bit of serendipity, three experimental musicians whose prior recorded output had won them just as much ire as it did reverence happened to construct a sonic tour de force that managed to resonate with just about anyone with a pulse. It’s the first album since Kid A to render the structure of a song and the concept of a hook entirely meaningless, yet retain an unparalleled accessibility – the sort of phenomenon that unconsciously prompts you to evaluate what it is you love about music. It’s all the more remarkable when you consider that Animal Collective made the world go crazy for an album with hardly any actual instruments on it at all. Technology instead supplants live instrumentation and blends with the magnificent harmonies between Dave Portner and Noah Lennox that float through the ether of Merriweather from beginning to end. A big reason why the album struck a chord with so many kinds of listeners is its openness; unlike much of the band’s previous material, it presents us with no aural or thematic restrictions. At its heart, Merriweather is simply one giant love song. Its creators love their spouses, their children, their brothers, the nature that surrounds them, the feeling they get from the most mundane occurrences, and the idea of love itself. That’s translated through the uncomplicated words and warm, radiant sounds that pervade through our speakers, and it’s precisely why it kept our hearts beating the whole year. Merriweather Post Pavilion is everlasting. There might not ever be anything like it again.

Andrew's Best Albums of the Decade

So apparently the decade is ending. Have you seen this? Have you heard about this? Time Magazine says the 2000's were "the decade from hell." That's very rude of them! Shame on you, Time Magazine. I mean, the last 10 years gave us some pretty horrible things that were just the pits (9/11, Hurricane Katrina, Lady Gaga) but hey, I liked this decade a lot! I've really only been alive for two whole decades and just a smidge of a third, so the Naughty Aughties were definitely the best out of all the decades. I am very qualified to make such a statement. Moral of the story? You're a Negative Nancy, Time Magazine.

But more importantly, I made a list of my 50 favorite albums from the last ten years. Rather than painstakingly write about each one (that's what the forthcoming Best Of '09 list is for), I decided to try a little something different. Twist! I thought I'd let the artists talk about their albums themselves. It was really hard to get a hold of most of those dudes, though, so I had to do this in the form of their own lyrics. I picked my favorite lines that sum up each album's significance to me. Disclaimer: Because 10 years is a very long time, my tastes have changed tremendously since the start of the decade. But I still thought it was entirely appropriate to include albums that I dug eight, nine years ago. Even though I might not be into a few of these anymore, they meant a lot to me at the time, so that's why you'll find a few questionable choices. So enjoy this, because I did, and because it's kind of like looking through a SCRAP BOOK OF MY LIFE! Plus, lots of YouTubes. The list begins after the jump.

1. Wilco: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002, Nonesuch)

"All my lies are always wishes / I know I would die if I could come back new."

2. Brand New: Deja Entendu (2003, Triple Crown)

"You are calm and reposed/ let your beauty unfold / Pale white like the skin stretched over your bones / Spring keeps you ever close / You are second hand smoke."

3. The Strokes: Is This It (2001, RCA)

"You say you wanna stand by my side / Darling your head's not right / You see alone we stand, together we fall apart / Yeah I think i'll be alright / I'm working so I won't have to try so hard / Tables they turn sometimes."

4. The Format: Dog Problems (2006, Nettwerk)

"Sometimes, when sailors are sailing / they think twice, about where they're anchoring / and I think, I could make better use of my time on land."

5. Radiohead: Kid A (2000, Capitol)

"You can try the best you can / if you try the best you can / the best you can is good enough."

6. Jack's Mannequin: Everything In Transit (2005, Maverick)

"Maybe we were made for each other / is it possible for the world to look this way forever?"

7. Relient K: Mmhmm (2004, Gotee/ Capitol)

"I've thrown away / so many things that could've been much more / and I just pray / my problems go away if they're ignored / but that's not the way it works."

8. Jimmy Eat World: Bleed American (2001, Dreamworks)

"If you were with me tonight / I'd sing to you just one more time / a song for a heart so big / God wouldn't let it live."

9. Nightmare Of You: Self Titled (2005, The Bevonshire Label)

"But I'm yours if you want it / I can be yours to spend your life with / I can be yours / we'll hide indoors / petrified of the world."

10. Death Cab For Cutie: Transatlanticism (2003, Barsuk)

"All I find are souvenirs from better times / before the gleam of your taillights fading east / to find yourself a better life."

11. Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin: Pershing (2008, Polyvinyl)

"Do people, when they're older / see distances on maps get smaller / and promises of happiness stalled? / I wanna see you again."

12. My Morning Jacket: Z (2005, ATO)

"Truly, truly we have become / hated and feared for something that we don't want / listen, listen / most of us believe that this is wrong."

13. Motion City Soundtrack: Commit This To Memory (2005, Epitaph)

"These are the things I think about / when I'm alone without you / I wonder of your whereabouts / and hope like hell / you're happy where you are."

14. The Postal Service: Give Up (2003, Sub Pop)

"I want so badly to believe / that there is truth, that love is real / and I want life in every word / to the extent that it's absurd."

15. Frightened Rabbit: Midnight Organ Fight (2008, Fatcat)

"When my blood stops / someone else's will not / when my head rolls off / someone else's will turn / and while I'm alive, I'll make tiny changes to Earth."

16. Saves The Day: In Reverie (2003, Dreamworks)

"To the sunlight shining on my cheeks / and the wind sweeping me away / far away from every memory / with your face in the frame / that'll be the day."

17. Brand New: The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me (2006, Tiny Evil/Interscope)

"Is it in you now? / to better hear the truth that you have spoken / twisted up by knaves / to make a trap for fools. / Is it in you now? / to watch the things you gave your life to, broken / and then stoop and build them up / with worn out tools?"

18. Say Anything: Is A Real Boy (2004, Doghouse)

"So now i'm forging ahead / past all the plutocrats who sold me out /go sob in your bed / if life is twice as pretty once you're dead / then send me a card / I'm still the optimist, though it is hard / when all you want to be is in a dream."

19. The Weakerthans: Reunion Tour (2007, Anti-)

"I see you suddenly alive / and nearly smiling / I stop and hold my breath / and watch the way you used to be."

20. Limbeck: Hi, Everything’s Great (2003, Doghouse)

"And if my fingers should start to crack or blister / I guess that's just what happens / don't you forget the things you're leaving."

21. Radiohead: In Rainbows (2007, Self-released)

"I am a moth who just wants to share your light / I'm just an insect trying to get out of the night / I only stick with you because there are no others."

22. Days Away: Mapping an Invisible World (2006, Fueled By Ramen/Lava)

"Now you've got me thinking I'm amazing / cause I've built this all on my own / go on, tell me what you think before you fake it / and I might believe you."

23. Dr. Dog: Fate (2008, Park the Van)

"Cause love that never leaves is never ever welcome back / and i'm running out of skin thick enough to hide in."

24. Animal Collective: Merriweather Post Pavillion (2009, Domino)

"Sometimes the sun will shine / yes I am just doing fine / sometimes I'm not aware / where I am or what I care / sometimes I'm well-to-do / but I don't know what to do / sometimes I don't agree / with my thoughts on being free."

25. Green Day: American Idiot (2004, Reprise)

"And in the darkest / if my memory serves me right / I'll never turn back time / forgetting you / but not the time."

26. Why?: Alopecia (2008, Anticon)

"I'm lucky to be under / this same sky that held / the exhale from your first breath / like a ring on a pillow of clouds / by you my tongue may stutter / but my gift heart screams clear and swells / to burst between the wrapped lengths / of its bowed ribbon cell."

27. The Avett Brothers: I And Love And You (2009, American)

"I wanna fit in to the perfect space / feel natural and safe in a volatile place / and I wanna grow old without the pain / give my body back to the earth and not complain."

28. The Shins: Chutes Too Narrow (2003, Sub Pop)

"Mercy's eyes are blue / and when she places them in front of you / nothing holds a Roman candle / to the solemn warmth you feel."

29. Cursive: The Ugly Organ (2003, Saddle Creek)

"Oh, please don't barrage me with the questions / to all those ugly answers / my ego's like my stomach / it keeps shitting what I feed it."

30. Arctic Monkeys: Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not (2006, Domino)

"Anticipation has a habit to set you up / for disappointment in evening entertainment but / tonight there'll be some love / tonight there'll be a ruckus yeah / regardless of what's gone before."

31. Kanye West: Late Registration (2005, Roc-A-Fella)

"Before you ask me to go get a job today / can I at least get a raise on the minimum wage? / And I know the government administered aids / So I guess we just pray like the minister say."

32. Down to Earth Approach: Come Back To You (2007, Vagrant)

"Don't be so forgetful / and just let yourself be happy for a minute / be forever grateful / that she changed your mind to a warm home from a prison."

33. Fleet Foxes: Self Titled (2008, Sub Pop)

"The world is alive now / in and outside our home / you run through the forest / settle before the sun / darling, I can barely remember you beside me / you should come back home / back on your own now."

34. Fountains of Wayne: Welcome Interstate Managers (2003, Virgin)

"And here is your reflection / in a building uptown / a ghost inside some Madison Avenue display / like water under bridges / you're slowly passing by / as you sail between the rooftops and the sky."

35. The Hold Steady: Boys and Girls in America (2006, Vagrant)

"I feel Jesus in the clumsiness / of young and awkward lovers / I feel Judas in the long odds / of the rackets on the corners / I feel Jesus in the tenements / of honest, nervous lovers / I feel Judas in the pistols and the pagers / that come with all the powders."

36. Ben Folds: Rockin the Suburbs (2001, Epic)

"Next door there's an old man / who lived to his nineties / and one day passed away / in his sleep / and his wife, she stayed / for a couple of days / and passed away / I'm sorry / I know that's a strange way to tell you / that I know we belong."

37. Northstar: Pollyanna (2004, Triple Crown)

"And there's God / there's me / there's Saturn / there's me / and forget everything in between."

38. Punchline: Action (2004, Fueled By Ramen)

"With the world in my hands / could I change it if I want? / and who are you to answer that for me / if by chance, or a cheater/ I'd leave it up to neither / confidence rules present tense / and it could shatter all my dreams."

39. Wilco: A Ghost Is Born (2004, Nonesuch)

"And the sun gets passed from tree to tree / silently, and back to me / with the breeze blown through / pushed up against the sea / finally back to me."

40. Midtown: Save The World, Lose The Girl (2000, Drive-Thru)

"Regrets are worthless / they misconstrue the past in sight and sound / and as lines recede / no one speaks a word of his lust / a word of dreams that've been left to rust / the TV's on and everyone stays calm."

41. Blink-182: Self Titled (2003, Geffen)

"My head is made up of memories / most of them useless delusions / this room is bored of rehearsal / and sick of the boundaries / I miss you so much."

42. Ryan Adams: Gold (2001, Lost Highway)

"Well, everybody wants to go on forever / I just wanna burn up hard and bright / I just wanna be your firecracker / and maybe be your baby tonight."

43. Rufus Wainwright: Poses (2001, Dreamworks)

"Can't expect the world to be your Raggedy Andy / while running on empty / you little old doll with a frown."

44. Vampire Weekend: Self Titled (2008, XL)

"Oh your collegiate grief / has left you dowdy in sweatshirts / absolute horror!"

45. Taking Back Sunday: Tell All Your Friends (2002, Victory)

"Think of all the fun you've had / the finest line divides a night well spent / from a waste of time / and think of all the days you spent / alone with just your TV set / and I / well I can barely smile."

46. John Mayer: Room for Squares (2001, Aware/Columbia)

"Friday evening we've been drinking / 2 AM I swear I might propose / but we close the tab / split a cab / and call each other up / when we get home / falling asleep / to the sound of sirens."

47. New Found Glory: Self Titled (2000, Drive-Thru/MCA)

"Here's to us fools / that have no meaning / I tip my glass to you / let's toast the night away to friends / and forget about tomorrow."

48. Audio Recording Club: In the End, We Are All Light (2007, Self-released)

"Doing 80 / down the highway / as Jim Adkins sings the lullabies into my head / he swears he’s one small instrument / and every car I pass along / is one more car closer to home / to everything I know and love / cause that’s all I’ve been thinking of."

49. Fall Out Boy: Take This To Your Grave (2003, Fueled By Ramen)

"My smile's an open wound without you / And my hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back / Tonight the headphones will deliver you / the words that I can't say."

50. Race The Sun: The Rest of Our Lives is Tonight (2004, Fidelity)

"Farewell pleasant town / hope you sleep well tonight / again we'll race back to you / fight to get lost in your streets / cheat toll booths as locals / engrave our names in park benches / we'll find an alias."

Shameless Self Promotion: Listen to My Radio Show Tonight

Hi. Have you ever wondered what it would be like if this blog you're reading right now was in audio form instead of written form? You've absolutely wondered that. Wouldn't you like to save yourself the trouble of reading through our spelling errors and poorly used metaphors and just get to the songs? Probably. (For the record, I am an immaculate speller and an adequate metaphor user. Eat it.) If any of this is the case, BOY ARE YOU IN LUCK.

You see, I am a very famous radio broadcaster. As a matter of fact, beginning tonight, I return to the airwaves for the fourth straight year as host of the hit show, The Honker Burger. You've definitely heard of it. Listening to the show is essentially like reading one of my blog posts, but way easier on the eyes: indie flavors of the week introduced by someone who thinks he's way funnier than he really is. Throw in some anti-drug PSA's and plenty of angry enthusiastic callers, and you've got the recipe for an UNDISPUTED HIT RADIO SHOW THAT YOU'VE DEFINITELY HEARD OF.

Anyway, The Honker Burger is on WLVR, which you've also heard of. It's the student radio station at Lehigh University in Bethlehem, Pa., which means there's always lots of really professional broadcasting all the time. GUARANTEED. I really hope you tune in tonight and every Monday for the rest of the year because my paycheck is contingent on how many listeners I get. Just kidding, I don't get or need a paycheck. I own the radio station. I am president and CEO and Dean of Lehigh University.

Here's how you can listen! See you tonight!

The Honker Burger 4: Cruise Control: Havana Nights!

Premiering TONIGHT, Monday 9/14 from 8 p.m. - 10 p.m.

Listen LIVE on www.wlvr.org

Call and request: 610-758-3913

AIM: WLVR913FM

Request on Twitter: @thehonkerburger

* The radio show is in no way affiliated with Stark, Matt or Vince. I am simply an attention-loving whore.

Andrew's Top 25 of 2008

Andrew Daniels' Top 25 Albums of 2008

Two-thousand and eight has been a breath of fresh air, a year for unprecedented change. Shut up about the recession for a second and focus on the positives: we as a country experienced a historic election (and came out on the right side!), the Philadelphia Phillies won their first world series in 28 years (and I'm still reeling) and Axl Rose finally released Chinese Democracy. (To no one's surprise, it was awful.) But the best thing to come out of the year, as always, was the music. While 2008's list is the most diverse collection of albums in the six-year history of my long-winded diatribes, as usual there is a self-imposed central theme loosely connecting each of my choices together: each album in its own way possesses that same 'breath of fresh air' that characterized this year's events. Don't roll your eyes. It's my list, and I make the rules.

And now, the Top 25 Albums of 2008.
(That means click me.)

Andrew's Top 25 of 2008

Andrew's Top 25 Albums of 2008

Two-thousand and eight has been a breath of fresh air, a year for unprecedented change. Shut up about the recession for a second and focus on the positives: we as a country experienced a historic election (and came out on the right side!), the Philadelphia Phillies won their first world series in 28 years (and I'm still reeling) and Axl Rose finally released Chinese Democracy. (To no one's surprise, it was awful.) But the best thing to come out of the year, as always, was the music. While 2008's list is the most diverse collection of albums in the six-year history of my long-winded diatribes, as usual there is a self-imposed central theme loosely connecting each of my choices together: each album in its own way possesses that same 'breath of fresh air' that characterized this year's events. Don't roll your eyes. It's my list, and I make the rules.

And now, the top 25 albums of 2008.

25. The Spinto Band: Moonwink (Park The Van)

To refute the claim that there's nothing interesting going on in the state of Delaware (no doubt propagated by its nondescript locale or by a classic "Wayne's World" scene), Wilmington's The Spinto Band shuts everyone up with Moonwink. The album, their first on Park The Van, is a carnival-like celebration of pop theatrics and outside influences. Opener "Later On" is an accurate microcosm of the whole collection: A driving but slightly jilted rhythm, elegant vocal harmonies and a vaudevillian midsection. Fun and complex, with one trait never dominating over the other, Moonwink is a concentrated blast.

24. Valencia: We All Need A Reason To Believe (Columbia)

Written in the aftermath of the death of Valencia frontman Shane Henderson's girlfriend, We All Need A Reason To Believe is a heartbreaker; it's a devastating piece of art capturing a tumultuous, painfully real period in the singer's life. The band ably masks his grief with straightforward pop rock veering on the Midwestern sound of The Get Up Kids and Hey Mercedes, pulling off a winning contrast between melancholy content and soaring, hopeful hooks. Henderson's simple and honest lyrics aren't always profound, but they don't have to be, given the context of death and the unfamiliar territory that comes with it. He's given himself a reason to believe, and we can't help but hope along with him.

23. Conor Oberst: Conor Oberst (Merge)

Ditching the Bright Eyes moniker and choosing Merge instead of Saddle Creek to release his first traditional solo album in thirteen years was a wise move for Conor Oberst. The self-titled collection finds Oberst the loosest and most comfortable he's been in several albums, wonderfully relaxed and -- temporarily, at least -- at peace with himself and his surroundings. "Sausalito" and "I Don't Wanna Die (In A Hospital)" are churning country-rock songs likely conceived in the easy Mexican sun, where the album was recorded. Even the ballads have a kick to them: "Lenders in the Temple" thankfully never hits the predicted lull that's bogged down so many of Oberst's sparse recordings in the past. While the troubadour will more-than-likely put on his old hat again, let's hope it happens later rather than sooner, or at least not until he squeezes out another album under his given name.

22. Kings Of Leon: Only By The Night (RCA)

Don't look now, but it appears that the Kings Of Leon have finally broken through in the United States, after toiling away for years as one of Europe's biggest American bands. After only hinting at their stadium-rock potential on last year's Because of the Times, the Followill brothers made good on their promise and released this, their unabashedly huge fourth LP. A sonically rich affair with massive guitars and choruses, Only by the Night is a rarity; it's radio-friendly, and it doesn't suck. And really, wouldn't we rather have mainstream audiences pick up on a great rock single like "Sex On Fire" than latch on to the same Nickelback-lite trash that's populated car stereos for the last decade?

21. Punchline: Just Say Yes (Modern Short Stories)

After more than ten years together, Punchline refuses to acknowledge their supposed restrictions as a pop-punk band. Not only did their stubbornness factor into them making a great record in Just Say Yes, it also led them to leave the once-proud Fueled By Ramen with dignity intact and start their own label, Modern Short Stories. The new-found freedom is evident in daring songs like the industrial-tinged title track and the hushed "Castaway." What's always been noticeable is the band's genuine penchant for crafting great songs instead of an image that sells, a choice that ultimately buried the band under more marketable groups on FBR. But there are so few bands in this genre making music for the right reasons anymore that a band like Punchline is not only appreciated, but necessary to the species' survival.

Read the rest of the top 20 after the jump.


20. Less Than Jake: GNV FLA (Sleep It Off)

Less Than Jake also eschewed the idea of the major label this year, cutting ties with Warner Bros. in search of a creative rejuvenation. Their move to Sleep It Off, owned by drummer Vinnie Fiorello, seemed to do the trick: GNV FLA is the band's best album in arguably a decade. Lyrically and sonically, the songs have a fire that was sorely missing from In With The Out Crowd. For one, the re-introduction of horns to the front of the mix has done wonders for song structures, and lyricist Fiorello has used the backdrop of the band's home -- the broken state of Florida -- to give a major spark to his writing. Don't call it a comeback, because they've been here for years, but it sure feels like one.

19. Nada Surf: Lucky (Barsuk)

Lucky, Nada Surf's fine, unheralded fifth album, is unusually bright and assuring. The songs move along at a quick pace, with ample room to breathe but little room for embellishments. And that's fine; lead singer Matthew Caws has spent the better part of the last two decades perfecting the kind of simple, assertive pop songs that make up Lucky. "Whose Authority", "Beautiful Beat" and "I Like What You Say" might be a bit suspicious in their complete blissfulness, but there are no complaints here. Lucky finds the band tickled pink at one end of the indie spectrum, having completed their transition from a more somber group akin to Death Cab For Cutie on past records to now rivaling Fountains Of Wayne in sunniness.

18. Adele: 19 (Columbia)

Those who were skeptic about how Adele would fit into the mainstream when Amy Winehouse already filled the role of "neo-soul British sensation" -- myself included -- should breathe easy now: it's painfully clear that Adele isn't only the real deal, but that she might just outlast Winehouse and the rest of the pack as the shining star of her class when all is said and done. Wino's Back to Black was an excellent record, but it wasn't as interesting as the phenomenal 19, a collection of soul-baring tracks that relies little on Mark Ronson's production flourishes but heavily on the young chantreuse's powerful pipes. The range of emotion Adele is able to convey so unassumingly is remarkable; she's the shy, quiet girl in the back of the classroom who you never knew had it in her.

17. What Made Milwaukee Famous: What Doesn't Kill Us (Barsuk)

To quote Rob Gordon in the movie High Fidelity, when he's talking about a former love: "She didn't make me miserable, or anxious, or ill at ease. You know, it sounds boring, but it wasn't. It wasn't spectacular either. It was just good. But really good." That same backhanded, faint praise can be awarded to What Made Milwaukee Famous, a band forever destined to be under the radar, but certainly worthy of more attention upon further thought. What Doesn't Kill Us is always enjoyable and occasionally thrilling, often sounding like a beefed-up Spoon album. The monster single "Sultan", which evokes Billy Joel during his late-70's heyday, is the winner here, but the idiosyncratic "Resistance St." and the rolling "The Right Place" aren't far behind.

16. Vampire Weekend: Vampire Weekend (XL)

Almost a year later, Vampire Weekend is still great after all the inevitable post-hype backlash. The album remains the best debut from an indie act since The Strokes' Is This It in 2001, and for good reason: it's a charming melting pot of styles and cultures that, in its short existence, has already signaled a change in the popular landscape. Yes, many of the Afro-pop sounds found on the LP were already fused with the mainstream on Paul Simon's indelible Graceland, but not to the same dizzying heights the band achieves on "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa", and certainly not for the same tastemaking, Internet-savvy audience that has fueled Vampire Weekend's rise. Add in an expert display of classical prowess (the harpsichord-laden "M79"), and new-wave smarts ("A-Punk") and you've got an utterly impressive, game-changing hybrid of an album. And now we wait for act two.

15. Girl Talk: Feed The Animals (Illegal Art)

Gregg Gillis is throwing a party for the world, you're invited, and so is Jay Z, Roy Orbison, Twisted Sister, Radiohead, Yo La Tengo and Salt-n-Pepa, yada yada yada. Now that the arbitrary references are out of the way, can we talk about how much fun this album is? Trumping 2006's Night Ripper, Feed The Animals cannot be classified as a collection of mash-ups, but rather, a separate work on its own. It takes a gifted musical ear and tremendous creativity to piece together sample upon sample and craft something entirely new, and Gillis certainly possesses both when he does things like drop Lil Mama's "Lipgloss" rap over the piercing double-bass drums of Metallica's "One" on "Like This." The album contains hundreds of moments like these, making it a perfect study for the music geek (seriously, try identifying all the samples without following along on Wikipedia) and the perfect soundtrack for a power hour.

14. Old 97's: Blame It On Gravity (New West)

Blame It On Gravity is a triumphant return from the roots rock veterans, a snapshot capturing a band of middle-aged men writing and playing like they're in their 20's again. Rhett Miller and the gang were beginning to sound slightly out of gas when we last left them on 2004's underwhelming Drag It Up, but they've regained the energy that typified classics like Wreck Your Life and Too Far To Care. Gravity is full of country/punk pearls like "The Fool" and "Here's to the Halcyon", both equally suited for the bar and the open road. There are very few, if any, missteps in the batch, proving that the band never went away -- they just needed to find their footing again.

13. Death Cab For Cutie: Narrow Stairs (Atlantic)

For all intents and purposes, Ben Gibbard could be defending Narrow Stairs's initial lack of appeal on the single, "I Will Possess Your Heart": "...You gotta spend some time with me." Death Cab For Cutie's sixth studio album is the least immediate upon first listen of the band's tenured career, but with a little persistence, it reveals itself to be their most rewarding. Opener "Bixby Canyon Bridge" lazily builds until it reaches its psychedelic climax, while the glum "Grapevine Fires" hides subtle harmonies under its bare-bones orchestration. But even if this is the band's "difficult record", it is still Death Cab For Cutie, which means the album's accessibility was never truly called into question. "Cath..." and "No Sunlight" rank among the band's catchiest tunes to date, and producer/guitarist Chris Walla makes sure not to stray too far out beyond his comfort zone. Still, give the guys credit for attempting something interesting -- on a major label, nonetheless -- and largely succeeding.

12. Okkervil River: The Stand Ins (Jagjaguwar)

Okkervil River's Will Sheff is making his case for being the best lyricist in rock and roll, propelled by the hellishly real and hilariously biting prose found on The Stand Ins. The man is a pop culture library, able to constantly dispense literary and cinematic references into his vivd portraits of failures ("Singer Songwriter" and the haunting "Bruce Wayne Campbell Interviewed On The Roof Of The Chelsea Hotel, 1979") with the turn of a phrase. The album, a sister collection to last year's superb The Stage Names, already contains some of the band's most enduring songs: single "Lost Coastlines" may just be the song of the year, and the synthesizer-fueled "Pop Lie" is a pub-rock nugget that wouldn't sound out of place on Elvis Costello's classic This Year's Model.

11. Smoking Popes: Stay Down (Curb Appeal)

If an unforgettable band reunited in the forest after a decade apart, made a killer record on par with anything from their classic catalog, and nobody was there to witness it, would they still make a sound? Such is the dilemma with the Smoking Popes, together again after a 10-year layoff, and their great, seemingly-untraceable new album Stay Down. It's frustrating how little attention this album received upon its quiet release in June, even though it came on the heels of a much publicized reunion tour in 2006. Stay Down is vintage Popes, from the unpredictable song directions to singer Josh Caterer's irreplacable, loungy croon. Little has changed, and I wouldn't have it any other way. But for fans who are sorely in search of fearless, daring pop-punk, they should look no further than to one of genre's most perennial, pioneering bands.

10. Kanye West: 808's & Heartbreak (Roc-A-Fella)

For the majority of his still young, undeniably brilliant career, Kanye West has spent his life on top of the world, t-top of the world, touching the sky. But the tragedies that struck the larger-than-life icon this year -- namely, the bizarre, sudden death of his mother and the dissolution of his longtime engagement -- weighed heavy on him, leading his fans and critics to speculate how the personal traumas would affect his music. The result is 808s & Heartbreak, one of the most personal, intriguing albums from a major mainstream act in recent memory. Built entirely around a Roland TR-808 drum machine and an Auto-Tune voice processor, West uses the two devices to evoke naked emotion, somberly singing over minimal, quasi-futuristic tribal rhythms. Gone are any traces of West's bombast found on previous albums; harsh confessions and paranoid thoughts are in their place. It is in no way off base to label Heartbreak as West's Kid A; it's a brave, lonely masterpiece, intensely therapeutic for one man and profoundly rewarding for the rest of the world.

9. The Explorers Club: Freedom Wind (Dead Oceans)

Let’s acknowledge the elephant in the room, so as to not resort to using it as a crutch any further: Yes, The Explorers Club sound like The Beach Boys. On Freedom Wind, the band has painstakingly patterned themselves after the California giants, right down to their summer aesthetic and their reverb-soaked drums and harmonies. It would be foolish not to draw parallels between the bands, simply because of how proudly the young sextet wears their influences on their sleeves. Freedom Wind sounds effortless. It stands as a winning tribute -- and a worthy adversary -- to a seminal work like Pet Sounds. If that sounds blasphemous, don't let it. The Explorers Club pull it off.

8. Jukebox The Ghost: Let Live and Let Ghosts (Rebel Group)

Jukebox The Ghost may be the best discovery in a year full of great ones, and their debut LP Let Live and Let Ghosts is supreme entertainment at its finest. A jittery exercise in pushing the limits of power-pop, the album accentuates pianist/vocalist Ben Thornewill's lively histrionics and classical playing. The ritzy "Victoria" is an example of such, twisting and turning from quiet to loud to reserved to jumpy, borrowing dynamics from symphonies and dramatics from Freddie Mercury. "Hold It In", a Cars-tinged standout, rides a herky-jerky groove until it reaches a soaring chorus of jam-packed lyrics and enthusiastic hand claps. The band also takes cues from early-day Ben Folds Five, especially on the superb "Good Day," which bats leadoff. Let Live and Let Ghosts is electric, contagious and with any luck, the start to a long, illustrious career for Jukebox the Ghost.

7. Fleet Foxes: Fleet Foxes (Sub Pop)

My God, those harmonies! You'd be hard pressed to find anything this year as natural sounding as the seamless blend of vocals between Fleet Foxes singer Robin Pecknold and his band of brethren on their stunning, uncommonly assured self-titled debut. A friend of mine described the sensational feeling he gets each time he listens to the album on his iPod. As he walks out of his front door in the early morning onto a bare city street that will soon be vibrant with life, "Sun It Rises" starts to play and signals the start of a new day, each time with the potential to be a perfect one. In the last year, thousands of music fans across the country have flocked to the band looking for similar results. Fleet Foxes' rustic folk, a modern update of CSNY, has a mystical, enchanting quality to it, seemingly capable of erasing any withstanding problems and obstacles. As Pecknold's voice floats alone in the final seconds of the ethereal "Oliver James", we get washed in the rain, back to reality as the album ends. But for the forty minutes before that, we've all escaped.

6. My Morning Jacket: Evil Urges (ATO)

Evil Urges, My Morning Jacket's gloriously rambunctious fifth album, adds fuel to the notion that this is Jim James's world, and we all just happen to live in it. We're merely guinea pigs in his elaborate experiments, such as evaluating how a band's audience that is still predominantly comprised of southern rock fans might react to an electro-funk freak-out complete with Nordic chants three songs in to that band's new album (as in "Highly Suspicious", the set's most polarizing, perplexing song.) Or ending said album with a four-second snippet of applause and the words, "okay, cool." If 2005's Z was a stylistic left turn for the band, Evil Urges drives them 10,000 miles off the map. James sings entire song in a tacky falsetto (the title track), decides to emulate James Taylor and Kermit The Frog at the same time ("Sec Walkin") and affectionately seduces a bespectacled bookkeeper ("Librarian"). Some of his decisions are hilarious, but they can never be argued with, because they all work. Extraordinarily well. Yes, My Morning Jacket are now indisputably America's Radiohead, but Thom Yorke was never this funny.

5. Annuals: Such Fun (Canvasback)

Similarly riddled with musical ADD is Annuals' leader Adam Baker, who can't make up his mind over what kind of band he wants to be in. But the high placement on this list of Such Fun, the band's all-too-appropriately named sophomore album, would indicate that to have too many ideas isn't necessarily a bad thing. The hodgepodge of concepts that Baker and company throw on the table is far more thrilling than would be dangerous, and it's that no-fear mentality that allows the band to play with such strong conviction. Parts of songs transition to each other with striking ease, making seismic shifts from backwoods country to glam punk ("Down The Mountain") go down smooth. While the frequent transformations lend the songs their bravado, it's the unquestionably excellent songwriting found throughout Such Fun that gives the album its charm. "Blue Ridge" and "Hardwood Floor" are tranquil meditations that contain some of the year's richest, most satisfying melodies. While the band is clearly painting with an overflowing palette of colors on Such Fun, in no way does the album suffer because of it.

4. Why?: Alopecia (Anticon)

While only Why? frontman Yoni Wolf knows the reason for naming his band's third, genre-shattering album after a medical term for hair loss, it's within the realm of understanding that baldness is likely one of his many fears and potential undoings. Alopecia is perhaps the most uncomfortable album dealing with anxieties and neuroses since Eels' Mark Everett released Electro-Shock Blues ten years ago. Wolf, in a snarky monotone that conjures David Berman and even Cake's John McCrea, spits out stream-of-consciousness raps about sex, drugs, gay sex, bowel movements, breakups and art -- all things that may conceivably kill him -- over tightly-constructed, deeply percussive rock. It's damned near impossible to even attempt to classify Why?; neither hip-hop nor indie, punk rock nor folk. But it's an even harder task to listen to Wolf's sobering lines without first grimacing at their graphic indecency only to soon-after appreciate their sheer brilliance. It raises the question of whether or not it's perverse to find joy in other people's troubles, but Alopecia is such a complex album that to find a cut-and-dry answer may ultimately be futile.

3. Dr. Dog: Fate (Park The Van)

By contrast, there is little room for ambiguity on Fate, the third excellent record in a row from Philadelphia's Dr. Dog. It's another refreshingly simple, nostalgic piece of pop greatness from a band set on honoring their influences and then improving upon their own shortcomings. One of the band's best drawing points is their borrowing from so many kindred spirits: quite obviously The Beatles, The Band, and The Beach Boys are all apparent benchmarks, but a closer look will point to influences like Wilco, David Bowie and even James Brown. That "something for everyone" approach is what has carried the band so far in such a short time, and they don't dare mix up the formula on Fate. "The Breeze" is a lilting half-acoustic opener set against a grainy, analog backdrop, with a classic vocal from co-frontman Scott McMicken musing on life's odd contradictions. Fellow lead Toby Leaman follows it up with "Hang On", a classic rock showcase with tinges of gospel that highlights the singer's husky, soulful Seger-esque voice. It's a flawless one-two punch to kick things off, and on the nine songs that follow the pair, the dynamic between Leaman and McMicken provides for the album's best quality. There is no hidden truth to Fate, only that it's an unblemished collection of songs, and the band's most realized work to date.

2. Frightened Rabbit: The Midnight Organ Fight (Fatcat)

Had Scott Hutchinson and Frightened Rabbit come from somewhere like New Jersey, and not Scotland, where the accents and sincerity pile on thick, The Midnight Organ Fight would only be a great record, and not the emotional magnum opus that it ends up being because of the band's heritage. Lines like "...it takes more than fucking someone you don't know to keep warm" wouldn't take on half the weight they do when sung in the vocalist's squeaky, vulnerable drawl than if they were to be delivered in an American dialect. The level of urgency Hutchinson is able to channel through his bitter words and unguarded voice is alarming, making us passionately resent the unfaithful ex he sings about with the same ferocity that he does. On the epic, arresting "Keep Yourself Warm," he bellows over pulsating open chords, "Did you really think that a fuck at half speed you'll find love in a hole?," almost indirectly instructing his listeners to find the girl that caused him so much pain and ruin her themselves. But then on "The Twist," Hutchinson desperately implores the same girl to twist around him, because he "needs human heat." The words he's able to cull from such agony and heartache are astonishingly poignant and completely believable; it's as if he's fetched every emotion you've ever felt following a particularly bad split and assembled them together in 45 minutes. But lest you think The Midnight Organ Fight is an overwhelmingly morose affair, the opposite is true: even though malicious and lonely words serve as subject matter, songs like "Old Old Fashioned" are downright sublime, bouncing along with acoustic guitars and fiddles as a way to at least milk some happiness from suffering. By the end of the album, when Hutchinson resolves to "save suicide for another year" on "Floating In The Froth" with sweeping organs and an angelic choir behind him, the healing process has begun. We can only hope the next Frightened Rabbit album can extract half as much grandeur from Hutchinson's peace than The Midnight Organ Fight does from his anguish.

1. Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin: Pershing (Polyvinyl)

In the end, there was never any contest. There was not one album released this year that allowed me to fall in love with it so quickly like Pershing did, or enabled me to come back to it day after day, hour after hour, desperately craving its irrefutable optimism. Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, a modest, unassuming quartet of indie-pop dreamers from Missouri, quietly built the album of the year out of a couple guitars and a few seasoned harmonies. Look to Pershing’s opening track, “Glue Girls,” which begins with an acoustic strain and no sooner develops into an aerial indie pop assault for the reason why the album works so effectively. Phillip Dickey and John Cardwell’s transient vocals soon enter the mix, cooperating immediately with each other to emphasize the simplicity of lyrical vignettes like “tongues sticking to the sun.” Pendulous clean guitars appear, disappear, and reappear again amidst a backdrop of syncopated rhythms, and this is all before it hits: that giant chorus. A melody so good that neither Rivers Cuomo, Brian Wilson nor Adam Schlesinger thought of it first, it briefly arrives, and teases us like a double entendre, and then is put to rest for the next minute before it comes back and lets us breathe and smile again upon its return. And that's just the start. As a whole, Pershing could easily fit right next to Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted and The Pixies' Surfer Rosa in the grand scheme of seminal indie works from the late 80s and early 90s. Rather than merely being content with these just comparisons, though, the band one-ups its elders by adding decidedly modern cues from today’s playbook: the fuzzy bass in “You Could Write A Book” and the stuttering hi-hat in “Modern Mystery” are taken from some of the band’s contemporary kindred spirits. There’s so much to become infatuated with throughout the course of Pershing’s 34 minutes that to point out every hook in every nook would do the entire record a severe disservice. Fall for the whole thing in one sitting – I can guarantee you will – and then pick up on its subtleties with every repeated listening. You’ll notice the Herp Alpert horn section in “Boring Fountain”, and the warped use of Pachelbel’s Canon in the infectious “Think I Wanna Die”. The production, both shoddy and pristine, cannot and should not work any other way. It suits the band perfectly; fitting, as they recorded the record entirely themselves. To add another outside hand in the process would’ve perhaps taken away from the creativity the band achieved as a whole. In the process of celebrating the old and fusing it with the new, SSLYBY has set its own standard – and perhaps every like-minded independent band’s as well – with Pershing, the best album of 2008. This is perfect pop music with delightful imperfections.

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Until next year,
Andrew Daniels