Honorable Mention: Music in 2012

The amount of albums that came out in 2012 is staggering.  Wikipedia can give you a general idea but the truth is unless you're Michael Fassbender in Prometheus, that's not a math problem you'll have fun solving.  Yet it's become increasingly apparent that when I roll out my end of the year lists, I spend I great deal of time with records that don't end up represented in that coveted collection.  So here are the less-sung heroes for me, the albums that brightened my 2012--the ones worth your time but impossible to place.  Enjoy!

Alabama Shakes- Boys & Girls (***½): Brittany Howard’s soulful pipes and brash blues riffs are tailor made for fans of Sharon Jones and the Black Keys’ most recent stab at retro chic.

Amanda Palmer & The Grand Theft Orchestra- Theater Is Evil (***): The Wagnerian/Elton John ambition is there, but Palmer’s Kickstarter-funded project plays more like Dresden Doll b-sides instead of a creative manifesto.

Bad Books- Bad Books II (****½): A bit foggier, and sporting more keyboard quirks, Bad Books II finds the Andy Hull/Kevin Devine braintrust going strong with sensitive-guy charm.

BADBADNOTGOOD- BBNG2 (****½): Anything but bad, BBNG2 finds basement jazz masters balancing tight drums, slinky bass twitches, and a healthy side of hip-hop swagger, mingling with their free-form ambitions.

Beach House- Bloom (***½): Playing like Teen Dream at midnight, Bloom continues Beach House’s preoccupations with ethereal chimes, breathy whispers, and cooler end of 80s new wave.

Ben Gibbard- Former Lives (***½): The sweeping string arrangements and sweet sentimentality owe a great deal to the Beatles, but much like Gibbard’s idols, solo record will make fans hungry for his former band.

Blockhead- Interludes At Midnight (***½):  Aesop Rock's favorite DJ casts swervy, late-night shadows and sports dense beats that would make Beck Hansen blush.

Clams Casino- Instrumental Mixtape 2 (*****):  Dramatic without being overly pretentious, Michael Volpe's latest batch of larger than life beats borrows from nightmarish landscapes, intoxicating trip-hop, and just enough movie score gravitas to make E.S. Posthumous proud.

Cat Power- Sun (***): Charlyn Marshall’s fascination with David Bowie's Low era pushes her band to try on summertime synths and trip-hop thumps where her smoky bar presence would typically reside; call it sobering if a bit somber.

Crystal Castles- Crystal Castles (III) (***½): Alice Glass' Apocalypse-pixie shtick is warped into oblivion but Ethan Kath's thin, fluttering beats, make longtime listeners hungry for the thick low-end of Crystal Castles (II).

David Byrne & St. Vincent- Love This Giant (***½): Floating in a sea of clamoring horns and awkward funk, David Byrne and Annie Clark only really click when they focus their energy onto icy synth-sprawls.

Death Grips- The Money Store (****): This chopped up punk-rap is blasted with noise and staccato samples, while MC Ride's tortured braggadocio makes Tyler, The Creator look like Bruno Mars.

Divine Fits- A Thing Called Divine Fits (***½): Sporting Wolf Parade's wavey atmospheres and Spoon's angular bass-heavy work-outs, Divine Fits' 80s-ramped debut is the perfect antidote to a lonely night drive with nothing to do.

Fiona Apple- The Idler Wheel Is Wiser That The Driver Of The Screw And Whipping Cords WIll Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do (****): Older, wiser, and more neurotic, Apple's fifth LP specializes in free-jazz anachronism and bitter communication breakdowns.                                                   

Flying Lotus- Until The Silence Comes (***): If you can stand how ADD-riddled FlyLo's Alka-Seltzer style beats are, his Miles Davis approach to warped dubby samples might just be for you.

Garbage- Not Your Kind Of People (*****): Butch Vig and Shirley Mason's victory lap; an LP that truly embodies their band from film-score grandeur to electronic-robot rock, and the effervescent cool-gaze that separated them from their 90s contemporaries.

Gold Motel- Gold Motel (***½): Sleepy and subdued, Greta Morgan continues to plunk around her keys while the rest of her group channels retro-Beach Boy vibes.

Green Day- ¡Uno! (****½): Berkeley’s National Treasure keeps it short and sweet with songs about personal empowerment and love, channeling Cheap Trick and their Gilman days with Ramones-style energy.

Green Day- ¡Dos! (****): If you were looking for the 60s trash-rock sequel to Foxboro Hot Tubs’ Stop Drop & Roll!!!, look no further than this lustful batch of garage-ready cuts—just don’t be surprised when the party comes crashing down.

Green Day- ¡Tré! (****): After Billie Joe and Co. made a mess of the whole damn place they put the evening and their lives in perspective; ¡Tré! fluctuates between lean and mean pop-punk, 50s rock n’ roll glamour, and Green Day’s multi-suite American Idiot ambitions.

Hot Water Music- Exister (****): With some modern production and heaving bass lines, Chuck Ragan’s rag-tag punk battalion sounds like the powerful basement band he’s heard in his head since the very beginning.

How To Destroy Angels- An omen_E.P. (***½): Feeling more like sketches than a full body of work, Trent Reznor’s anxiety humming glitches and twitches coast under his wife’s siren-worthy presence.

Jack White- Blunderbuss (***): The Hardest Working Man at Third Man Records opens up his blues-rock vault, revealing that the discipline in his other groups allows him to serve up sizzle instead of the lukewarm Grammy fodder on this solo LP.

Japandroids- Celebration Rock (****): Earnestness never felt so tremendous as this duo powers through 9 cuts of “forever young” epiphanies, sounding like a proper 5-piece in the process.

Lamb Of God- Resolution (***½): Randy Blythe may be facing criminal charges overseas but let’s not forget his band’s immense fury—Resolution marries expansive dirges with rattlesnake riffs, making Blythe’s legal battles sound like child’s play.

M. Ward- A Wasteland Companion (***½): Playing like the kind of songwriter that plays bars in the evening and sleeps during the day, Ward conjures up some old folk magic on his latest album.

Macklemore & Ryan Lewis- The Heist (***½): The synthesizers are glitzier, the beats bigger, and the sound brighter as hip-hop’s resident boy scout churns out an album of strikingly honest rhymes.

Matt Skiba & The Sekrets- Babylon (****): As if Matt Skiba’s back catalog wasn’t expansive enough, the hyper caffeinated power-punk punch and textured Cure-keyboards on Babylon remind us all why he inspires such a devout, albeit gloomy, following.

Memoryhouse- The Slideshow Effect (***½): Soft and sweet, like a mid-afternoon nap, The Slideshow Effect is an exercise in syrupy melodies and breathy allure.

Mumford & Sons- Babel (****): Though the group trades in some of their quaint bluegrass flair for some feverish acoustic energy, Babel is the kind of album that ascends on the backs of thick harmonies and heartfelt stories.

Muse- The 2nd Law (****): Looks like Matt Bellemy just flipped through the Mos Eisley jukebox: Some flashy Zeppelin riffing, operatic Queen flourishes, blitzed-out electronics, and some blooming snyths jettison The 2nd Law into its own musical galaxy.

Motion City Soundtrack- Go (***): Slightly more subdued, Justin Pierre leads his usually bouncy band through the inner workings of his half-acoustic Atari heart—think bed room confessionals for gamers.

Neon Trees- Picture Show (***½): Mining the 80s for all their pulpy thrills, the Neon Trees move past their Sandals-ready sound to something bigger, brasher, and surprisingly artier.

Norah Jones- Little Broken Hearts (***½): Danger Mouse is gonna Danger Mouse, which amounts to a smoky record with tight drums, but Jones reminds us that her honey-smooth voice is the real reason we’re tuning in.

oOoOO- Our Love Is Hurting Us E.P. (****): Call it make-out music for ghouls but these witch house pioneers continue to take their warped vocal warbles and click-clack beats to Halloween-style heights.

Passion Pit- Gossamer (****): Holy 1980s Batman--If you’re looking for some slick keyboards, hooks engineered to move Mentos, and some spaztic pixie wailing, look no further than this glimmering LP.

Purity Ring- Shrines (***): Unsure if it wants to be Depeche Mode or the next witch house flavor of the month, Shrines is as sexy and scary as Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice, with its music box keys and dime-a-dozen programming.

The Raveonettes- The Observator (****½): Eisley Brothers sensibilities intact, the Ravenonettes continue to toy and tinker with shoegaze fog over their usually gloomy valentines.

Say Anything- Anarchy, My Dear (***): Max Bemis’s marriage has mellowed him some, so Anarchy… doesn’t blister and burn like his previous work, but in between dorky string laced come-ons and Weezer earnestness, it’s good to hear Bemis happy.

The Shins- Port Of Morrow (***½): Garden State might have been eons ago but the fuzzy radio transistor vistas on Port Of Morrow will take you back to a time where people got excited about The Shins.

Sigur Rós- Valtari (****): Thanks to Sigur Rós, I’m convinced that the expansive Icelandic country side resonates with the sounds of fantasy creatures swooning (or dying) in slow motion—so if you like that, plus healthy does of ivories, check this album out.

Silversun Pickups- Neck Of The Woods (****½): Channeling their inner Radiohead, the Pickups grow into a spacious sound that’s lush, angular, and down right mesmerizing, finding a happy medium in between dizzying and despondent.

The Smashing Pumpkins- Oceania (***½): Billy Corgan’s Curmudgeon Republic channels spacey synths, incense and peppermints psychedelia, and world religion mysticism, but this record really comes alive when Corgan splatters his guitar solos like it’s 1993.

Trash Talk- 199 (****): Everything here is sharp, overblown, blasted, smashed, and on fire—you’ll be hard pressed to find a more immediate addition to your hardcore punk collection in 2012.

The xx- Coexist (****½): Even if they’re spearheading this new dub-inspired PBR&B aesthetic, The xx keep their stark minimalism intact while adding some lightness and softness to their sound.

Walk The Moon- Walk The Moon (***½): A dizzy stab of indie dance jams that you’d swear Maroon 5 would try to make; then again, what’s refreshing about Walk The Moon is that no one has a record quite like it.

Yellowcard- Southern Air (***): They may not be tearing up the OC anymore, but Yellowcard continue evolve in interesting fashions, especially with some Americana flourishes creeping into their violin-powered pop-punk.

2012: A Playlist

There was a point where I promised a part deux to a large compendium of summer listening.  Man, that was a delightful idea.  You were going to marvel at how eclectic my listening was and we could discuss the relative merits of everything revolving Kendrick Lamar and Frank Ocean.  (Spoiler: Frank Ocean is wasting your time, half the time).

Oops.

2012 has been an exceptionally busy writing year for me, both at my internship and at school.  As such, this blog has had to be unusually patient for me to...you know....get with it.  But my ears have been busy.  They always are.  And in an attempt to stay on top of my massive year end roll out, I thought I'd kick it off with a Spotify playlist detailing some my favorite songs from 2012.  While my more in-depth analysis of this year's albums is coming, this is to give you an idea of what some of my mixtape staples were in 2012.  Enjoy!  (Spoiler: There's no Frank Ocean to waste half your time).

The Subversive Dichotomy Of Adele Adkins (Or The Frenemy Of My iTunes Is Still My Frenemy)

Adele bothers me more than most major pop-stars.

This sentiment comes on the heels of her James Bond theme hitting the Internet (which to my surprise is a fairly strong effort) as well as my latest attempt to give 21 another umpteenth listen in the hopes that I’ll finally “get it."  I suppose part of this also stems from the fact that I glanced through her Rollingstone cover story, which also added gasoline to the hypercritical flames I usually hold her over.  In any event, I’m bothered.  This is gonna be a long one, buckle up.

Though I’ve long ago resigned to the fact that my listening habits are not of the Top 40 variety, Adele is something of an anomaly for me.  She is the only artist in recent memory that's compelled me to obtain her records, listen to them with escalating levels of rage, delete them from my iTunes, forget about her, and then obtain her records again in some sort of vicious Groundhog Day/Mobius Strip of hilarity.  This is problematic for me because I generally stick to my opinions.  Except with Adele, that is.  With Adele, I weigh the evidence, make a rational decision, and then offend all my friends that have “Rolling In The Deep” as their ringtone.  It is what it is, and the snark remains the same.

I guess my relationship with Adele is a complicated one because I WANT to cut her a break and understand what 24+ million people find appealing.  Like most human beings, I want to be part of the party.  Yet, something happens mid way through 21, where I'm consumed with resentment that she's got my attention again, and it's wasting my time.  And for some absurd reason, I still stop just short of dismissing her completely.  The cycle repeats endlessly, and it’s quite the sinister enigma to solve.  She’s the third shooter in Dallas, my Cubs World Series, my white whale (and no, that’s not a weight pun).

Thanks to “Skyfall,” and Rollingstone, I think I now know why.

There are two Adeles within Adele Adkins, two distinct narratives that are simultaneously interwoven with each other.  Interestingly, the manner in which they're blurred has left me with the inability to decide how I feel about her artistic output.  More to the point, the fact that these two narratives are twisted in on themselves might just be indicative of where pop culture is going in the next decade or so, which is either terrifying or hilarious depending on how your listening habits function.  Allow me to elaborate on these two very different Adeles:

Adele #1—Adele The Sophisticated

This is the Adele 24+ million people think they’re getting when they watch Adele in an interview, a music video, or what they imagine her artistic persona to be.  This is the Adele I want to buy into: The smoker, the drinker, and the girl with the broken heart.  The earnest little artist that could, telling super producers like Rick Rubin and Paul Epworth to strip back all the studio trappings on 21 to make it raw and immediate.  She’s a songwriter.  This Adele is visceral, tapping into a rich Motown tradition that’s all but been forgotten.  She doesn’t play to “traditional” body images, and she’s ambivalent to the press that picks her part for it.  This Adele has a boyfriend, a reclusive private life (in fact, she CREATES a private life), and is the most technically proficient singer of the past five years.  She’s Dusty Springfield and Joan Holloway, all chutzpah and hand grenade vocals.  She’s a champion, a storyteller, and alchemist that can translate talent into mountains of awards, and legions of followers.

Adele #2—Adele The Ordinary

This is the Adele 24+ million people get when they hit play on 21, who we read about in the gossip columns, and who’s real legacy is grounded in manufactured awards show buzz.  This is the Adele that functions within the rigid pop-paradigm, with enough raw talent to support an album full of three singles and indistinguishable filler, a Grammys' reckoning.  She’s the kind of radio wonder that will put out a decidedly nostalgic sounding LP plagued by the hilariously modern Loudness War—A record constructed to feel resonant and warm but comes across as flat and cold.  You hear this singer in the super market aisle while you’re shopping at Whole Foods.  This is the kind of malleable talent that Columbia Records will hand-pick to work with super producers like Rick Rubin and Paul Epworth, focus-grouping ballads about John Q. Anybody-But-Somebody-Specific.  This is the Adele that swings the pendulum the other way for me, the one that exists in a manufactured pop-vacuum, not a cultural revival.  More to the point, this is the Adele Columbia Records tries to hide from you.

If you’re feeling a bit like Keanu Reeves right now, I can assure you that was planned.

I suppose this is sort of true for any artist.  There is a romanticized ideal that we think we’re experiencing juxtaposed with the cold calculating reality we’re oblivious to.  Art is a reaction to commerce and commerce reacts to art.

Then again, some musicians really create art with a message and drive.  Sometimes that romantic rock n’ roll narrative is 100% true--your Iggy Pops, the Tom Waitses, and the Johnny Cashs.  There, it’s harder to differentiate danger from the "narrative" because they truly live their story.  Kurt Cobain was an insanely depressed drug addict.  Raise your hand if you wince(d) when watching Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged?  These artists embody the kind of stories that shake us as listeners, and these narratives help us create lasting bonds with musicians--endearing us to records we’ll listen to over and over again.  The closer the connection to reality and art, the more human, personal, and resonant it becomes.  We love to be immersed in this mystique because it simultaneously validates the artist and ourselves.

We like manufactured pop music for different reasons.  With pop music, with Top 40 radio, the invented narrative you’re being asked to believe is never hidden.  We ALWAYS see the Wizard behind the curtain. Here, HOW the narrative is constructed helps us shop around. For as ridiculous as the 90s boy-band explosion was, as well as the bubblegum-glam of everyone from Debbie Gibson to Britney Spears, no one will mistake who made these stars popular and how they did it.  This is why we loved them, and why they've sold more records than God.  The beauty of Top 40 is these artists don’t have to hide how the sausage is being made—people will eat it up because they like the way it’s made.  If you’re loyal to the process, who cares about substance?

If you buy into Top 40 pop-stars, you buy into what you’re expecting.

The problem is that market is only so large, and record companies are greedy little greed mongers.

Adele is a fascinating exception, the pop-star disguised as sophisticated songstress.  In a technological age that blurs reality more and more, Adele effortlessly muddles the line between romantic and manufactured.  Her personas are not divided by authenticity, but by weapons grade advertising.  She’s a massive success because her reach extends past those who traditionally buy into constructed pop-escapism.  This is because in the modern warfare of democratized digital listening, Adele is the perfect stealth bomber to sneak past enemy lines.  She looks, feels, and embodies the serious and dramatic, but she’s been assembled a few doors down from Katy Perry, Ke$ha, and Rihanna.  She’s the perfect product.  With Adele, the fact that you can’t always see the Wizard is why she’s a massive success.  She consciously appeals to those that would normally buy her records as well as those that would typically shun such a massive commercial titan, totaling 24+ million Adele-colytes in the process.

Then again, maybe I’m just bitter that Adele continues to trick me into listening to 21 over and over again, without really enjoying more than three tracks on it.

Oh well, fool me once, right?

How I Spent My Summer Non-Vacation: Episode IV--A New Update

Yo Bruce Springsteen...you wrote Born To Run and all, and I'mma let your finish...

We open on what seems like an ENDLESS spaceship as it shoots at a much smaller, more rundown spaceship.  There are lasers, and definitely some ooozin’ ahhs from the crowd.  A film like that would probably be pretty rad, especially when the black caped villain shows up.  Guess I need to finish my screenplay...

This post is kind of like that sort of movie.  Except, you know, with the music critique and all.  In case you were curious, my ears were as busy as I was this past summer.  Here’s what kept them company…in the first of two rad installments…

BADBADNOTGOOD- BBNG2 (****½)

Talented jazz trios that love the antagonistic and violent stylings of Odd Future don’t just drop out of the sky, do they?  They do if you’re BADBADNOTGOOD, a group that specializes in tight Charles Mingus grooves while sporting an ear for contemporary hip-hop and electro-soul, wrapping their big beats in smoky atmospheres.  The result is one of the more interesting jazz efforts to come along in a long time, simultaneously paying homage to the past and the present, with deft precision.

Key Cuts: Earl (Feat. Leland Whitty), Limit To Your Love, Flashing Lights

Bloc Party- Four (*****)

Those that had a raging conniption about the electronic leaning Intimacy and Kele Okereke’s synthed-out solo project, The Boxer, can rest easy.  Four is the masterpiece Bloc Party fans have been waiting for since the early aughts, its raw, “live-in-the studio” swagger energizing the group’s most immediate set of songs since Silent Alarm.  From twangy, angular space-punk, to palm-muted, sweeping ballads, Bloc Party gives fans an impressive comeback record that’s as confrontational as it is comforting.

Key Cuts: Octopus, The Healing, We’re Not Good People

Cat Power- Sun (***)

When she’s not recounting her fractured past in broken down bars, Charlyn Marie Marshall is apparently indulging in the coldest kind of sunbathing.  Hovering between scattershot trip-hop beats and Bowie-esque keyboards, Sun revels in Marshall’s indie-R&B fascinations, stretching them in more somber directions than lustful ones.  Though Sun isn’t as consistent as her past offerings (it lacks anything resembling a radio-earworm), these hypnotic atmospheres help keep her afloat without an abundance of memorable hooks.

Key Cuts: Cherokee, 3,6,9, Nothing But Time

Childish Gambino- Royalty (****½)

Donald Glover might be the newest prince in the rap game, but his charisma and talent is undeniably earned.  After last year’s breakthrough Camp, Glover chose to keep grinding on his 808s and came up with Royalty, a mixtape that plays like a list of his hyper-caffeinated YouTube favorites.  You simply won’t find a more fun sounding hip-hop recording this year, where 80’s neon glitz, deeply dark bass, quirky brass touches, and diverse MCs (Everyone from GZA to Tina Fey) add fuel to Glover's urgent, fiery flow.

Key Cuts: One Up (Feat. Steve G. Lover), American Royalty (Feat. RZA & Hypnotic Brass Orchestra), R.I.P. (Feat. Bun B.)

Fiona Apple- The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than The Driver Of The Screw & Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do (****)

There might not be an artist out there that makes you feel the labor of her music more than Fiona Apple, maybe because there are no other artists out there that are as ruthlessly self-critical.  Multi-syllabic title in hand, Apple is back with one of the more frantic entries in her deeply confessional catalog.  Sporting broken lullaby bombast, free-form jazz percussion, and enough sardonic spite to sink an aircraft carrier, Apple is still plunking on her ivories as the Internet burns.

Key Cuts: Valentine, Left Alone, Werewolf

Frank Ocean- channel ORANGE (***)

It’s impossible to talk about Odd Future without mentioning Frank Ocean’s pure, unadulterated talent.  He’s got silky smooth pipes, but his ambition is stretched too thin, crushing an otherwise interesting stab at future soul.  There are complicated vocal runs, space-age blips and strings, and about a million rappers coming out of the wood-works to support Ocean, but channel ORANGE is classic case of having too many cooks in the kitchen, overwhelming the most devout listener.

Key Cuts: Pyramids, Crack Rock, Pink Matter (Feat. André 3000)

The Gaslight Anthem- Handwritten (*****)

Brian Fallon writes the kinds of songs Bruce Springsteen wishes he could write.  That statement isn’t hyperbolic: Handwritten has guts, an LP chock full of the self-reflection that often comes with staying honest in desperate times.  Super producer Brendan O’Brian adds some texture, encouraging the group to incorporate blusier melodies into their punky chug, but it’s Fallon’s images that keep listeners grounded, spinning tales of American ghosts that were made to crash through muscle car radios.

Key Cuts: “45”, Mulholland Drive, Biloxi Parish

Gold Motel- Gold Motel (***½)

Going the DIY route takes chutzpah but it also takes the kind of meticulous follow through that Gold Motel exhibit on their new self-titled, self-produced album.  The group's chemistry is endearing, mixing hazy guitars with chunky slabs of Beach Boy pop and girl-group charm.  The slower mood might make it seem like there's a bit of a hangover from partying at the summer house, but Gold Motel’s latest effort feels like the work of real musicians playing real songs, the best kind of result from a DIY mentality.

Key Cuts: Brand New Kind Of Blue, In Broad Daylight, Slow Emergency

Japandroids- Celebration Rock (****)

There is nothing more rock & roll than feedback and anthems, two things Japandroids has in spades.  Celebration Rock is quite the statement, marrying driving rhythms with stadium punch, and enough late-night ennui to choke the dudes from Hüsker Dü.  Though the group is only two albums into their career, this sophomore effort hints at a bright future for Japandroids, full of the kind of music that embodies mix tapes and feelings that forever stay in our bones.

Key Cuts: Adrenaline Nightshift, The House That Heaven Built, Continuous Thunder

Tons Of Tunes Comin’ At You

"Wait, which one of you knows where the camera's at?"

Oh look…tunes n’ such.

Alabama Shakes- Boys & Girls (***½): Thank goodness Brittney Howard has come along to disrupt the malaise of Top 40 Adele-like “soul singers.”  Alabama Shakes rumble with some real blues fire, from their gospel-organ swells to their raucous riffing.  There’s power in their chords and in Howard’s vocal chords, the sort of presence that used to punctuate the Grammys way back in the day.  Maybe Alabama Shakes will be the ones to shake that up.

Key Cuts: Hold On, Heartbreaker, I Ain’t The Same

Beach House- Bloom (***½): Chances are if you didn’t hitch your wagon to 2010’s Teen Dream, Bloom isn’t going to do much to change your mind about Beach House.  The music is still wobbling between glacial and celestial, and the choruses tend to rise instead of sporting punchy hooks.  Still, Victoria Legrand and Alex Scully have supped up their keyboards and added a little weight behind their typically chiming guitars, just so to remind you that you’re listening to the new stuff.

Key Cuts: Myth, Lazuli, The Hours

Best Coast- The Only Place (**): Jon Brion works his producer magic and polishes up The Only Place into a shimmering 1950s dreamland, but the results are less than stellar.  Without all that bitterness and lo-fi crunch of her debut, Bethany Cosentino is forced to come to terms with the fact that she’s a flat singer with a fairly limited emotional pallet.  Bummer city, but at least she left us swimming in a handful of drifting ballads and the hope that she’ll bring the fuzz one her next go around.

Key Cuts: My Life, No One Like You, How They Want Me To Be

Blockhead- Interludes After Midnight (***½): Insomnia vibes wash all over Blockhead’s new LP, whether it’s the narcotic trip-hop stomp, the fractured jazz samples, or the flickering electronics that color his music.  Though Blockhead originally broke out making beats for Aesop Rock, Interludes After Midnight’s late night crawl is more indebted to instrumentalists like Fat Jon or DJ Shadow, rather than underground hip-hop.  Tense, claustrophobic, and immersive, Interludes… displays an instrumental alchemist that’s content to experiment well into the night.

Key Cuts: Never Forget Your Token, Meet You At Tower Records, Midnight Blue

Death Grips- The Money Store (****): If you’ve ever wondered about dropping your old SNES into an echo chamber owned by Public Enemy, you should probably pickup The Money Store.  Death Grips’ brand of hip-hop is an assaulting amalgam of noise rock collage, chip tune freak-outs, and Stefan Burnett’s junkyard dog flow.  Though the smashed together, clipped-to-death nature of these tracks isn’t for everyone, there’s an energy about Death Grips that will shock even the most fervent Odd Future supporter.

Key Cuts: Hustle Bones, I’ve Seen The Footage, Hacker

Garbage- Not Your Kind Of People (*****): Butch Vig leads Garbage through a veritable IMAX-sized mix on Not Your Kind Of People, and it makes for perhaps the most thrilling record of the year.  Electronic squeals blast and buzz from every angle, waves of blissed-out fuzz drag listeners into almost spacey dreams, and group’s mechanized rhythms punch alongside Shirley Manson’s timeless presence.  The end result sounds like the biggest rock record of 1999, recorded in the biggest spaceship of 9991.

Key Cuts: Automatic Systematic Habit, Big Bright World, Felt

Hot Water Music- Exister (****): Hearing an old band revitalized on their latest LP is like a breath of fresh air…and a punch to the gut.  Enter Hot Water Music, playing things lean and mean on their seventh album, Exister, which sports charging power chords, beefy bass lines, and a lock-step drummer that’s fast as all Hell.  Vocalist Chuck Regan seems to get angrier and courser as the years go by, reassuring fans that not everyone mellows with age.

Key Cuts: Mainline, Boy, You’re Gonna Hurt Someone, Exister

Jack White- Blunderbuss (***): The world knows how talented Jack White is, but it’s quite a shock hear him so tame on his first solo record.  Blunderbuss draws from the pantheon of White’s past blues travels: 60s pop, rootsy Americana, Paul McCartney rambles, but for some reason the sprawling and eclectic nature of this LP fails to give the songs any bite.  White could have used some restraint to focus his meanderings, and while there’s nothing here that should offend longtime fans, there’s also not a whole lot that will make you pay attention (the exception being Sixteen Saltines).

Key Cuts: Missing Pieces, Sixteen Saltines, Trash Tongue Talker

M. Ward- A Wasteland Companion (***½): M. Ward always has a story to tell, and A Wasteland Companion is no exception.  The characters in A Wasteland Companion’s musical vignettes all struggle-- with being alone, being together, and being themselves.  But no one quite ties it together like Ward with his dry rasp, finger picked acoustic, and jumpy piano making you feel like they’re right in the room with you.

Key Cuts: Clean Slate, Primitive Girl, There’s A Key

Matt Skiba & The Sekrets- Babylon (****): In retooling several cuts from 2010’s Demos alongside Hunter Burgan (A.F.I.) and Jarrod Alexander (My Chemical Romance), Matt Skiba proves yet again that he’s got a thing for gory anthems.  Everything gets butchered on Babylon, Skiba’s mournful memories drowned in soaring choruses, 80s snyths, and buzz saw riffs.  While the album expands to include sounds reminiscent of The Cure and The Chameleons, Skiba taps into a romanticism largely avoided on his previous work with Alkaline Trio, which should please new and old Skiba acolytes alike.

Key Cuts: Voices, All Fall Down, Luciferian Blues

Neon Trees- Picture Show (***½): When they’re not busy kicking it at Sandals, the Neon Trees are adding some technicolor flair to your Internet radio. What’s surprising is the amount of growth the Trees are sporting this go around—The record’s second half is considerably artier than longtime fans have come to expect, exploring an almost layered, robotic sheen. While Picture Show might carry less blockbuster singles than its predecessor, it may ultimately prove to be a more satisfying album overall. 

Key Cuts: Moving In The Dark, Everybody Talks, Trust

Norah Jones- Little Broken Hearts (***½): Though not as consistent as The Fall, Norah Jones’ Little Broken Hearts packs a surprising punch.  Danger Mouse’s production keeps the snare hits snappy and the guitars smoky, but it’s Jones’ velvety voice that continues to age like fine wine.  Maybe she’s a bit far removed from her good-girl Grammy days, but Little Broken Hearts splits the sultry difference between a midnight dream and a distant memory.

Key Cuts: Good Morning, She’s 22, Miriam

oOoOO- Our Love Is Hurting Us E.P. (****): If witch house is officially passé, no one told oOoOO.  Consider this a great big win, for 2012 electronic music and the genre in general.  His latest E.P. continues the set the bar for the witch house scene, adding clarity and crispness to his jerky beats and séance-ready atmospheres.  Spooky, twitchy, and definitively witchy, Our Love Is Hurting features several strong contenders for your future “Halloween” mixes.

Key Cuts: TryTry, Spring, Break Yr Heart

The Shins- Port Of Morrow (***½): When we last cared about The Shins they were blowing up Zach Braff’s iPod, right before their sharp descent into mediocrity.  Port Of Morrow is the sound of the righting their ship, a vibrant, full-band effort that takes their soft folk leanings and blows them up with all manner of twinkling atmospheres and slow burn distortion.  If they keep this up, they just might secure a soundtrack spot in Garden State 2: The Gardening.

Key Cuts: The Rifle’s Spiral, Simple Song, September

Silversun Pickups- Neck Of The Woods (****½): Teaming up with Jacknife Lee was a stroke of genius for the Silversun Pickups.  On Neck Of The Woods, the group scales back their neo-shoegaze plod for a more angular, percussive, and groove-oriented batch of songs.  Electronics play a more pronounced role on ...Woods than on their previous material, but the biggest change seems to be in the Pickups’ willingness to reach for bigger vistas and splashier crescendos, a sound that suits them well.

Key Cuts: Make Believe, Mean Spirits, Simmer