10. Josh Ritter / So Runs The World Away
The best thing Ritter has going for himself is how organic and inspired his music sounds. At its highest points So Runs The World Away feels as though the tracks are being written and played at the same pace that you listen to it. Other times, it feels more cautious and sporadic, but in a way that makes the darker songs, like "Folk Bloodbath", more moody and real. The whole album has a startling variety of production styles that range from ethereal and wistful to hard edged and filled with clatter. It makes the discovery of each new track fascinating and memorable.
9. Johnny Cash / American VI: Ain't No Grave
I'm not able to resist the velvety tones of Johnny Cash's voice, so another posthumous album of his work is an automatic endorsement from me. Yet even though the collections of his previously unreleased work has been coming for a while now, the last installment that is Ain't No Grave is still just as lustrous and potent as ever. There's a decidedly doleful tone to the album as a whole, as Cash often has, but it's not dismal or miserable. Even the hardest low of the album, "Can't Help But Wonder Where I'm Bound," still feels contented and proud. And so he should be, after all these years later, Cash still has the finest heartache around.
8. Fitz & The Tantrums / Pickin' Up The Pieces
It takes more than a call back to make something new feel like part of the past, so what Fitz & The Tantrums accomplishes by harkening back to that old school feel is more than just garnish. It's a genuine part of their inter-workings that is outright commanding at times when their ability the change up a melody or hammer on the right beat shines through in their more lively songs like "MoneyGrabber" and "L.O.V." Even their slower and more soulful tracks stand out by betting heavy on the great vocal chemistry of Michael Fitzpatrick's electricity and Noelle Scaggs' harmonizing.
7. Vampire Weekend / Contra
I give in. I'll admit it, these guys really do have it. Where I didn't feel anything from their introductory album, I really can't resist what they tapped into with Contra. Their propensity for complex and breathless melodies has always been a part of their work, but here, it's elevated by clever lyrics, both funny and ponderous, and a level of polished production that just makes every track a unique delight. And with each surprising musical homage and tricky combination, it's clear they can and will continue to impress as long they continue to step up their game.
6. Girl Talk / All Day
In the world of the mix tape, Gregg Gillis is king; a benevolent ruler who distributes his meticulously crafted tunes for free, reaping the benefits of allowing everyone to enjoy his absurdly fun mixes. I can't deny that it feels strange considering an hour stream of continuous remixes one of the best albums of the year, but it would be unfair to enjoy something as much as I have and not recognize the effort and artistry that it took to make it as good as it is.
5. Mavis Staples / You Are Not Alone
It has been my opinion for a while that while I don't have much interest in gospel music as a whole, I believe that the very best of that genre is often times better than almost any other music out there. Taking into account the earnestness and vitality that Mavis Staples can bring to her work after all these years, enhanced by the skill sets of Jeff Tweedy's production, that holds especially true here. The entire album is brimming with a deep-seated, personal passion for music and faith that is similar to none.
4. The National / High Violet
My greatest trepidation about putting High Violet on this spot is that if I truly knew what each song was really about, I may have to place it even higher. But as it stands, nothing it truly diminished in the sounds of The National's lyrics, or what they covey. There is nothing unartful about how I'm frequently unable to decipher the meaning of their word-smithing. Because the essence of the album is always in sharp focus. It comes through in the vibrant lyricism of "Afraid of Everyone" like a flame underneath a cool homogeny of emotional compulsion. It's contagious and weird and smart and probably better than I know.
3. Kanye West / My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
Before the album's release, I got sucked into West's short film/long music video, "Runaway", which presented an interesting thesis for what was going to come down the line later in the year. It promised a solid fragment of Kanye West's manic depressive mind that would later serve as an entry gate into the kind of music a man like him was capable of producing. Music that had been, up until this year, too obviously saccharine when it needed to be, and as boorish as the genre he entered wanted from him. It wasn't until Fantasy that West seemed to take the genre as his own beast, to use it instead of being used by it.
And so he expressed a dream of his that coursed in and out of reality mixed with make-believe. The super-heroic personal ballad "POWER" translates later into self-loathing perfection with "Runaway". And for all the sticking points I still have with the possessively virulent shit-talking tracks that are perniciously obligatory at this point, they remain undeniably well produced and smartly balanced with the rest of the album. So in the end I couldn't help but like Kanye West's Fantasy; I guess I'm late to the party.
2. Arcade Fire / The Suburbs
I understand that there will probably be a day sometime soon when I no longer feel any connection to the kind of music that Arcade Fire are so good at making. It seems reasonable that after a while, when I've grown old enough, I will be mostly numb to the crooning and mourning of the music that fills albums like The Suburbs. Frankly, I should be at that point now. I was never a kid with the sort of life that this album weeps with nostalgia for. For all intents and purposes, I am not the target for these themes. I don't even get homesick, really. So why do I feel some sentimentality to the the world to which The Suburbs refers.
Arcade Fire has always excelled at making me believe in tragedy as a positive force, as devastating as it is. Even more, they've be able to make those tragedies, as foreign as they are, feel uncomfortably close to home. But even as haunting as the pulsing attack of "Rococo" morphs into the slow beats of "Empty Room", what feels so urgent about The Suburbs is never too far from a comforting sensation.
1. LCD SoundSystem / This Is Happening
Previously announced as the swan song for the band, I already had some pretty heavy expectations for This Is Happening. The morose beauty of James Murphy's last album, Sound of Silver, hasn't managed to fade from my playlists. I still listen to "All My Friends" like it's my theme song. So was there any chance that the final act would be able to meet my expectations? No, probably not. So it's by the grace of Murphy's genius that he managed, instead, to subvert them.
It's not often that an album manages to undo me the way that this one has. Like the rest of Murphy's work, the more I listen to it, the more I fall in love with each of its tracks. And once you really get into the layers of a track like "Dance Yrself Clean" or "You Wanted A Hit", it's daunting to wrap your head around all of the intricate intention of the craft. And as a whole, it hits harder than any of his other albums to date largely because Murphy lets himself do what he has only flirted with in the past: actually sing. Though while he does so, he sounds at times more vulnerable and at others more resolute, projecting an incredible amount of simple honesty per-word. And that's why it's the best album of twenty ten.
And let's not forget -
10. "Stylo" / Gorillaz / Plastic Beach
For the synth-bass line, mostly.
9. "Everlasting Light" / The Black Keys / Brothers
Because it feels like a trash compactor oozing with pulverized rhythm.
8. "The Ghost Inside" / Broken Bells / Broken Bells
Because you got chocolate in my peanut butter.
7. "Shutterbug" / Big Boi / Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son Of Chico Dusty
Because you'd be damned to date it or deny it.
6. "Ain't No Grave" / Johnny Cash / American VI: Ain't No Grave
For indomitable strength in what sounds like a eulogy to himself.
5. "Afraid of Everyone" / The National / High Violet
Because everyone knows someone like this – and if you don't, you should.
4. "Wrote A Song For Everyone" / Mavis Staples / You Are Not Alone
Because it's impossible that we had to wait so long for this song.
3. "Drunk Girls" / LCD Soundsystem / This Is Happening
For - "Love is an astronaut / It comes back but it's never the same."
2. "Runaway" / Kanye West / My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
For turning nine minutes and thirty-five seconds into a track that's too short.
1. "We Used To Wait" / Arcade Fire / The Suburbs
Because the best last minute of a song makes this best song of the year.
That's all this year. Have a great Twenty-Eleven, and keep your ears open.
stg.
stg.
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