2012: The Year In Music

You didn’t think I forgot about this, did you?

It may have taken a bit longer than usual, but after a great deal of re-listening and reflection I can definitively say THESE are the albums in 2012 that caught my ears, piqued my interest, and took up space on both my iPod and computer.  And now, without further adieu…

Best Release: Sleigh Bells- Reign of Terror (*****)

From the stereo to my ears, no album conquered 2012 quite like Reign of Terror.  Coming off 2010’s speaker blasting Treats, Sleigh Bells opted to twist their noise-crunk sound into something immense, personal, and sweeping.  Reign Of Terror is a warzone of a record; between Derek E. Miller’s spikey Slayer-sized riffing, its cold 808 drums, and Alexis Krauss’ girl-group vocals, this LP is the gritty chronicle of living in desperate times.  From pep rally in Hell clatter of “Crush” to the proto-thrash of “Demons,” Sleigh Bells expand their sound in jagged, splashy fashion, giving their particular brand of noise-pop an incredible focus.  Nowhere is this more apparent that on the suicide-valentine of “You Lost Me” a track that marries chiming Def Leppard arpeggios with a story of tragic devotion.  In many ways, Sleigh Bells have crafted an album that explores America’s culture of violence, how pain and anguish is packaged through our media and mythmaking.  Krauss and Miller’s metallic dream-pop musings aren’t simply for novelty, but in fact present the perfect mechanism to examine how fear, addiction, and combat have become so darn stylish (Must be the Ray-Bans).  Between its M16 samples and smutty bubblegum sheen, Reign Of Terror’s unyielding dread and grand scope make it 2012’s crowning musical achievement.

Key Cuts: Crush, Demons, You Lost Me

Best Debut: Gary Clark Jr.- Blak & Blu (***½)

There weren’t many debuts that caught my ear in 2012, but Gary Clark Jr. kept me interested.  The blues man splatter on Blak & Blu invites Jimi Hendrix comparisons by the truckload, but Clark doesn’t play on 60s nostalgia to captivate audiences.  Blistering blues chops aside, Blak & Blu works because of Clark’s surprisingly nimble voice, caramel smooth one moment and deep-bellied the next.  It gives the more R&B inflected numbers, like the album’s purple haze-hued title track, more credence when juxtaposed with the real barn-burners, of which there are many.  For instance, the hard riff workout on “When My Train Pulls In” is simply punishing, taking its time to ramp up before Clark’s expressive fretwork pierces through the mix.  Make no mistake—Clark slings a mean axe, from the janky, broken-down twang of “Next Door Neighbor Blues,” to the fuzz-rock bravado of “Glitter Ain’t Gold.”  He’s a musician’s guitarist, one that plays from his gut instead of the studio booth.  True, the album is a bit bloated and a tad too eager to crossover (Clark’s worst songs remind listeners of the neo-Hendrix promise Lenny Kravitz never delivered) but he’s soulful, which makes up for even the most egregious, and cheesy, editing errors.  For all its warts, Blak & Blu is a promising start for an artist that’s destined to play for a long, long time.

Key Cuts: When My Train Pulls In, Glitter Ain’t Gold, Next Door Neighbor Blues

Best Rock Release: The Gaslight Anthem- Handwritten (*****)

When you’ve got Brendan O’Brien behind the boards, you’re no longer in the underground; you’re in the major leagues.  This is a good thing for The Gaslight Anthem, because Handwritten is too impressive to keep hidden.  Gritty and sentimental, Brian Fallon’s songs act like mini movies, as powerful as a supped up Trans AM barreling down Thunder Road.  “45’s” soaring vocals and searing guitars cut like hot knives, while the hard-hitting “Biloxi Parish” finds Fallon perfecting the art of the anthem.  Long time fans will notice the bluesier touches and foggy atmospheres that punctuate Handwritten, but the biggest difference is in the storytelling.  Handwritten chronicles Fallon’s quest to reconcile the past with the man he is today.  While past Gaslight Anthem LPs relied on American icons like Marilyn and Elvis to evoke a sense of Golden Era romanticism, Handwritten places listeners in the shoes of Fallon’s characters, painting vivid portraits of what it means to deal with loss and love.  The results are mesmerizing and personal, from the flange soaked lullaby of “Mae” to the twisting guitar duals and high tension of “Mulholland Drive.”  Records like these don’t stay hidden, and Fallon reminds listeners that you don’t always need to over think music, you just need to feel it.  In the end, Brain Fallon makes records the way they used to: With a whole lot of heart—handwritten.

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

Best Punk/Post-Hardcore Release: Every Time I Die- Ex Lives (*****)

Coming from the punk/post-hardcore end of the spectrum really means you’ve got attitude, enough grit and chutzpah to douse your songs in gasoline and light the fuse.  After the brittle, ambling New Junk Aesthetic, Every Time I Die return with the soul-crushing Ex Lives and enough “everything-be-damned” fire to roast the world.  And it shows, the arrangements are schizophrenic slices of chainsaw-inspired hardcore and southern rock crunch while Keith Buckley’s serpentine scream rounds out their sound.  Ex Lives is simply bone-crushing, from the behemoth-sized weight of “Underwater Bimbos From Outer Space” to the banjo inflected, hardcore bull-rush of “Partying is Such Sweet Sorrow.”  Buckley gives the performance of this life, no longer relying solely on his deafening rasp to recount twisted social nightmares, but also implementing his rather nimble mid-range to give his punk rock sermons some sass.  The biggest surprise, however, is how Every Time I Die have really expanded their sonic palette without sacrificing their aggression.  “Indian Giver” orbits and blasts doom-laden riffs with ethereal psychedelic flourishes, while “I Suck (Blood)” sets a new bar for sludgy breakdowns.  Unafraid to charge full speed ahead, Ex Lives shows that Every Time I Die continue to take the hardcore scene by their own, aggressive terms.

Key Cuts: Underwater Bimbos From Outer Space, I Suck (Blood), Partying Is Such Sweet Sorrow

Best Metal Release: Converge- All We Love We Leave Behind (*****)

Hard to believe Converge formed their punishing brand of hardcore-meets-thrash more than twenty years ago, especially after releasing All We Love We Leave Behind.  Musicians that work within extreme music genres tend to arrange music that’s more conservative as they get older, losing aggression and replacing it with atmosphere, as if the two are mutually exclusive.  Converge, on the other hand, play like a band during the peak of their powers, continuing to preserve their intensity as the years pile on.  The slash and burn riffing is as furious as a heaven-sent swarm of locusts, while their cyclonic drumming churns and stops on a dime.  “Aimless Arrow” twists and scratches skyward while the all-out hardcore blasts of “Trespasses” and “No Light Escapes” hit with savage intensity.  When Converge shift gears however, the results don’t lose any less bite.  “Sadness Comes Home” sports titanic, heaving riffs before speeding off into a spiraling-oblivion, reaffirming the fact that Converge’s sound is as gargantuan as their ambition.  Yet what’s most refreshing about All We Love… is its enormity.  In an age where heavy music is pristine, mechanical, and sterile, Converge reminds listeners that fury and feedback go a long way, creating brutal vistas along the way.  The result is a group, 20 years in, still making some of the best and uncompromising music of their career.

Key Cuts: Aimless Arrow, Trespasses, Sadness Comes Home

Best Electronic Release: Death Grips- NO LOVE DEEP WEB (*****)

Electronic music is not known for harrowing aesthetics, but that’s the first thing that comes to mind with Death Grips’ newest album NO LOVE DEEP WEB.  Their second LP of 2012 (after the chopped up punk noise of The Money Store), MC Ride and Zach Hill twist their keyboards to mirror the real life End of Days disaster they see unfolding before them.  NO LOVE is acrimoniously stitched together with lacerated vocal samples and terrifying vitriol as the duo implements a mish-mash of stuttering 808s and synthesizers that sound like overloaded circuit breakers.  MC Ride’s death-howl flow is here too; whether it’s exploring his tortured anguish on the manic “Come Up & Get Me,” or his fire and brimstone sermon on “Lock Your Doors.”  This isn’t electronic music for background accents; NO LOVE is a nightmarish Frankenstein, every synthetic sound warped and blasted into an uncompromising expansiveness sorely needed in today’s tepid electronic scene.  Instead, Death Grips aim to shake listeners out of complacency, whether it’s the metallic clank of “Stockton” or the phantasmal-glitch rumble of “Bass Rattle Stars Out The Sky.”  Raw, immediate, and explosive, NO LOVE DEEP WEB is a force of nature for the digital age.

Key Cuts: Come Up & Get Me, Lock Your Doors, Stockton

Best Produced: Kanye West Presents: G.O.O.D. Music- Cruel Summer (***½)

Aside from the Kim Kardashian stories, the Taylor Swift interruptions, and the leather kilts, Kanye West continues to intrigue because of his Renaissance-style vision for hip-hop.  Cruel Summer culls together some of the bright up and comers on his G.O.O.D. Music label, and Yeezy directs them with a master’s sense of perspective for a rather thrilling set of collaborations.  Blending opulence and arrogance, Kanye works his studio magic to create a record fascinated with refinement but with enough crushing grooves and modernism for the clubs.  The wobbly flow of “Clique” and the pitch-shifted murk of “Mercy” act as the perfect stage for egos like Jay-Z, 2Chainz, and Pusha T to twist their punch lines around their personalities.  Crystal clear, and space-age clean, the whole experience on Cruel Summer plays like one of Kanye’s beautiful, dark, twisted, fantasies, blending 90s style excess with pristine vibrant keyboards.  Yet Kanye doesn’t just steal the show behind the boards, he makes his presence felt often on the mic, whether it’s over the aggressive buzz saw hooks of “Cold” or trading quips with Ghostface Killah on the gunshot-piano climb of “New God Flow.”  While the record’s second half loses momentum and cohesion, the sheer recklessness and confidence of Kanye’s vision makes Cruel Summer one hell of a ride.

Key Cuts: Clique, New God Flow, Cold

Best Comeback: Bloc Party- Four (*****)

Who expected Bloc Party to ever put out a record this angry?  Cut with a relatively live feel, Four is Bloc Party’s triumphant comeback after the lukewarm reception of 2008’s electronic-leaning Intimacy.  While the group hasn’t necessarily traded in all their keyboards and effects pedals, Four plays out like a much more groove-obsessed post-punk record, while incorporating spacey atmospheres and rusty dissonance.  From the rubberband rhythms on “Octopus” to the fuzzed-out blitzkrieg of “We’re Not Good People” Bloc Party explores a sound that’s primal, immediate, and surprisingly heavy.  However, that doesn’t mean they’ve let this newfound drive squeeze out their more confessional offerings.  Lead singer Kele Okereke’s falsetto is still one of the brighter portions of Bloc Party’s arsenal, especially with his lilting delivery on the shimmering late album cut, “The Healing.”  While fans of Silent Alarm may balk at the bigger, beefier use of distortion, they’ll be missing out a Bloc Party record that sounds less like a computer and more like a 4-piece again.  Drummer Matt Tong is simply relentless, whether it’s on the dizzying heights of “So He Begins To Lie,” or machine gun space-funk of “Team A.”  All in all, Four reminds listeners that no amount of bad press can knock down Bloc Party, especially when they sound this confident.

Key Cuts: Octopus, The Healing, We Are Not Good People

Best EP(s): My Chemical Romance- Conventional Weapons (*****)

If you’ve forgotten what dangerous and desperate rock n’ roll sounds like, look out for Conventional Weapons.  Originally scrapped from their 2009 sessions with producer Brendan O’Brien, My Chemical Romance is presenting this “album-that-could-have-been” in 2-song E.P.s over the course of several months.  Yet the real shocker is how these songs were shelved in the first place in favor of the synthed-out futurism of Danger Days.  The band returns to their bloody-soaked brand of post-hardcore, paying homage to punk heroes like The Stooges and MC5 with a truly liberated batch of songs.  “Tomorrow’s Money” barely hangs together with car crash drumming and Ray Toro’s blistering lead work, while “Kiss The Ring” sports hyper-macho swagger and enough sleazy riffs to burn down L.A.  Though the songs tread on MCR’s usual “us-against-the-world” pulp fiction, Conventional Weapons out shines the technicolor Danger Days because of how these songs attack our disposable culture with startling precision.  Whether it’s Gerard Way’s come-at-me sneer on “Boy Division,” or “AMBULANCE’s” movie-ready anthem of devotion, MCR continue to explore how the enduring power of love can conquer even the darkest world.  Bold, black, and still alive, Conventional Weapons finds MCR firing on all cylinders.

Key Cuts: Tomorrow’s Money, AMBULANCE, Kiss The Ring

Most Ambitious: Kendrick Lamar- good kid, M.A.A.D. city (****)

Hype is a dangerous double-edged sword, but thankfully for Kendrick Lamar, it works to his advantage.  good kid, M.A.A.D. city is the kind of open narrative statement that hip-hop is starving for amidst the Lil Waynes and T-Pains of the world.  Mentored and produced by the famed Dr. Dre, M.A.A.D. city is a sprawling concept record detailing the trials and tribulations of Lamar’s rise to fame from Compton, CA, set against smoky atmospheres, soulful production, and an ever-evolving cast of characters.  “The Art Of Peer Pressure” uses brooding string arrangements cut through Lamar’s late night anxiety with switchblade precision, while the blissful “Poetic Justice” goes down easy like fine cognac.  Though rags to riches stories aren’t anything new, Lamar’s ability to tell a multi-character story within the confines of such a sonically accessible album is impressive.  He knows when to place his tonged twisting skills to the test (“Backseat Freestyle”) and when to let the gravity of his narrative overtake listeners (“Swimming Pools (Drank)”).  While Lamar struggles to turn M.A.A.D. city into a classic, especially considering the absence of a bona fide crossover hit like “Nuthin’ But A “G” Thang” or “Jesus Walks,” there’s plenty here he should be proud of—it’s not everyday debut albums are this deep, affecting and sincere.

Key Cuts: The Art Of Peer Pressure, Poetic Justice (Feat. Drake), Swimming Pools (Drank)

Most Experimental: Childish Gambino- Royalty (****½)

Oh, to have Donald Glover’s expansive resume.  The comedy writer-turned-actor-turned-rapper continues to mesmerize with his latest mixtape under the name Childish Gambino, Royalty.  Listening to these cuts feels like stumbling onto a psychotic version of Glover’s Google search history.  All his brainiac, blog buzzing, pop-culture addled fantasies are on display, from the blinking club bang of “One Up” to the electro-Kavinsky swiping on “R.I.P.,” painting him as Jay-Z and Ryan Gosling within three songs of each other.  His tastes are diverse though, suggesting he had a great deal of fun assembling this mixtape, from the Tina Fey guest verse on “Real Estate” to RZA’s brass-band digital breakdown on “American Royalty.”  While the public jury still might be hung on what Glover can bring to the table in terms of substance and storytelling, his fearlessness is certainly engaging.  The stuttering, chopped and skewed punch lines on “Toxic” nick Britney’s biggest hit for a surprisingly dread filled atmosphere, and hell, even junk king Beck Hansen shows up with his smooth drawl for a verse on “Silk Pillow.”  While Glover is certainly making a name for himself as a kid with quick wit, it’ll be fascinating to watch him work his magic in the future because for Childish Gambino, limits don’t seem to exist.

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

Most Eclectic: fun.- Some Nights (****)

Pop music should be inclusive and accessible, which is why fun.’s major label breakthrough Some Nights is so refreshing.  Dabbling in fuzzed-out beat making, carnival-style whimsy, and Nate Ruess’ ever-impressive register, Some Nights was a 2012 smash that virtually everyone could enjoy.  “We Are Young” is a lighter waving anthem filled with hip-hop clatter and naked sentimentality, while the trip-hip bounce of “All Alone” provides playful yearning and a cotton candy hook.  The Grammy buzz is well earned though, because Some Nights hangs its hat on expert songwriting instead of an exploitation of genre trends.  From the choir-backed “All Alright” to the album’s vocoded title track, Ruess comforts and reminds listeners of the splendor found in self-defining life moments.  For Ruess, the adventure is just a lonely night away, even if mortality is fleeting.  He embraces self-revelations like adrenaline straight to the heart (“Man, you wouldn't believe/The most amazing things/That can come from/Some terrible lies...”), extolling the virtues of saying “YES” over pinch-harmonized guitars and lush production.  While pop music typically exudes positivity, it doesn’t always hit the personal kind of reflection Some Nights explores, which make this bombastic set of songs such a fascinating listen.  For lack of a better way to say it, pop music is rarely, if ever, this kind of fun.

Key Cuts: We Are Young, All Alone, All Alright

Most Crapped On: The Offspring- Days Go By (**)

Some men decide to buy an extremely extravagant car as they get older, a vessel to park not only their fading youth but to blast their homemade demo tape from the college band they used to play in.  If you’re The Offspring, however, you call up Bob Rock and make another record.  To their credit, few 90s punk revivalists have aged well, but time has been especially cruel to Dexter Holland, his voice shriller than ever.  Yet the real problem comes with passion: Days Go By is mechanical, slick, and tame, everything that doesn’t support the adrenaline-addled energy of The Offspring’s best material.  Most of the album is a mid-tempo malaise, and the jokey electro-blitz of “California (Bumpin’ In My Trunk)” makes you think they should have won a Pulitzer for “Pretty Fly (For A White Guy)” in 1999.  Still, the band shows flashes of their old selves, even for a brief moment, with the staccato crunch of “Dividing By Zero.”  Too little, too late though.  Days Go By deserves the criticism: When you’re covering your own songs (I’m looking at you “Dirty Magic”), it’s time to hang things up for good.  So long and thanks for all the jams Offspring, you gotta keep your dad selves and your old lives...yup, you guessed it—you gotta keep ‘em separated.

Key Cuts: The Future Is Now, Dirty Magic, Dividing By Zero

Biggest Surprise: Gallows- Gallows (****)

Frank Carter WAS Gallows.  His vulture scream was as recognizable as the group’s strident and angular take on hardcore punk, and that voice helped create some of the most engaging punk records of the past decade.  So when it was confirmed that Carter was leaving,  and that his replacement was ex-Alexisonfire growler Wade McNeil, there was cause for concern.  Surprisingly, Gallows is a wholly different beast that stretches the band into new and exciting territory.  “Victim Culture’s” sledge-hammer stomp and “Last June’s” swervy hardcore splatter finds the band locked, loaded, and ready for war.  Though not as terrifying as Carter, McNeil’s biker snarl adds an intimidating facet to the Gallows sound that simply feels bigger and brasher.  While there are moments of all out-white noise fury, like on “Vapid Adolescent Blues,” some of the record's brighter moments are on the second half anthems like the call-and –response depravity of “Odessa.”  Though the group trades some of their more angular sounding arrangements for a chunkier, faster slice of the hardcore pie, Gallows displays a band that’s revitalized by their line-up change, rather than hampered by it.  Frank Carter might have been Gallows, but McNeil & Co. have proven that Gallows is so much more than one man and one era in time—it’s a beast with a mind of it’s own.

Key Cuts: Victim Culture, Last June, Vapid Adolescent Blues

Biggest Letdown: Frank Ocean- channel ORANGE (***)

For a record that’s topped out nearly everyone’s End Of The Year List, channel ORANGE is expected to be a GREAT album—and it isn’t.  There’s no denying that Frank Ocean, the most velvety member of Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, is blessed with a blissful set of pipes, but his debut is simply too disorganized to take seriously.  From the celebrity bloc party of John Mayer and Andre 3000 to the bloated interludes, channel ORANGE distracts more than it immerses.  The frustrating part is that there IS a great album in there—it’s just buried.  “Pyramids” may be the most inventive, multi-suite soul song of all time, its glacial movements and cool synthesizers feelings more at home on a Radiohead record.  Elsewhere, Ocean’s free-verse inspired delivery on “Crack Rock” shows his drive to take future soul somewhere new and exciting, into the spacey abstract where slow jams rarely orbit.  Between the PlayStation samples and digital mist, channel ORANGE is certainly expansive, but it plays like a collection of Ocean’s thoughts and sketches rather than a statement of purpose.  Though interesting in scope, Ocean’s debut simply confirms what we already knew about him—his potential is only as powerful as the producer that edits him.

Key Cuts: Thinkin’ About You, Crack Rock, Pyramids

Biggest Blog Buzz: Lana Del Rey- Born To Die (***)

You couldn’t escape 2012 without talking about Lana Del Rey (a.k.a. manufactured pop queen Lizzy Grant), and with good reason: She was as divisive a pop-star as we’ve ever seen.  The “Gangster Nancy Sinatra” was a bit of a tabloid target from her barely-there GQ spread to her strange fling with Axl Rose.  Yet it was Born To Die that really set the Internet on fire, lambasting her for a less that pristine set of pipes and her comatose stage presence.  It’s understandable, mainly because Born To Die is a classic exercise in style over substance.  Lana puts on a Scorsese-sized production:  Metallic trip-hop beats and movie score strings rest against a backdrop of Hollywood glamour and enough drugs and cheap thrills to make anyone seem numb on Sunset Boulevard.  The problem is it’s hard to buy into Lana’s mystique and easy to digest her product, which ultimately makes her blasé.  There are slow burn home runs like the funeral piano crawl of “Video Games,” or the buoyant come-on of “Diet Mountain Dew” but it’s hard to know where the allure starts and the anguish begins.  For all the spectacle that’s present, there’s little tension, and Lana’s darkness is never really earned.  This lack of sincerity ends up making Born To Die feel more like a commercial—interesting to take in but dangerously disposable.

Key Cuts: Video Games, Diet Mountain Dew, Radio

The Record That Should Have Caught On: P.O.S.- We Don’t Even Live Here (****½):

Stefon Alexander’s lack of name recognition is a bit criminal at this point.  Whether it’s from his spitfire work with the Doomtree collective, or under the moniker P.O.S, Alexander is simply the most energetic presence in hip-hop today.  Combining blitzed out synthesizers with punk rock percussion, We Don’t Even Live Here continues to illustrate Alexander’s undying passion for authenticity and his love of glitched-out noise.  “**** Your Stuff” is a volatile cocktail of anarchist tongue twisters, while the graveyard clatter of “Lockpicks, Knives, Bricks & Bats” and the relentless bang and buzz of “Bumper” show Alexander’s zeal for urgency.  We Don’t’ Even Live Here ultimately amounts to the strongest musical call to arms in years, an album that reflects the pastiche instincts of our modern world while preserving something uniquely human in spirit.  In an age of cookie-cutter celebrities, manufactured nostalgia, and a never-ending cycle of tragedy addiction, it’s refreshing to hear Alexander rap about what it means to be a human being in the face of such a disposable culture (especially from a genre that’s known to perpetuate it).  So if you want your hip-hop to say something, check out P.O.S—Stefon Alexander has something to say.

Key Cuts: Bumper, **** Your Stuff, Lockpicks Knives Bricks & Bats

Worst Release: The Mars Volta- Noctourniquet (0)

If you’re a Mars Volta scholar you’ll probably be determined to like this disaster of an album.  Nothing I type about how it’s a fractured malaise of pretentious art rock noodling, wrapped with dubstep twitches and spastic wailing will deter you from liking this album.  For all I know, you’re into this too.  Fair enough.

Key Cuts: Say, how’s that At The Drive-In reunion going?

WILDCARD: Deftones- Koi No Yokan (*****)

Tragedy can really affect people, and for the Deftones it has focused them.  While the smash-and-scream of 2010's Diamond Eyes carried a sense of frustration around their fallen brother Chi Cheng, Koi No Yokan finds them reflective and contemplative.  Taking prog-rock cues from bands like Pink Floyd and Radiohead, the Deftones marry spacious soundscapes with their mammoth sized riffing to create a truly otherworld experience.  Whether it’s the crushing grind of “Swerve City” or the robo-thrash breakdown of “Leathers,” the Deftones have created one of the more immersive albums since 2000’s White Pony.  Chino Moreno is still one of the most underrated vocalists in heavy music today, continuing his impressive streak with the soothing space coo of “Entombed” and his almost rabid delivery on the lurching “Poltergeist.”  Above all though, the album’s real achievement comes in the form of “Tempest” a swirling maelstrom of polyrhythmic drumming, hypnotic rhythms, and dream-like vocals.  Replacement bassist Sergio Vega intimated that Koi No Yokan translates from Japanese to mean “the premonition of love,” or “love at first sight.”  That’s not too far off base.  After the tragedy the Deftones have endured, Koi No Yokan is the sound of a band exploring what’s next for themselves, their music, and the things they love.  As such, listening to Koi No Yokan bloom and develop should thrill fair weather and fanatic Deftones fans alike.

Key Cuts: Swerve City, Leathers, Tempest

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).

2011: The Year In Music

I know it's been a long time coming, filled with self-promotion and waiting, but I can definitively say that THESE are the albums in 2011 that caught my ears, piqued my interest, and took up space on both my iPod and computer. For a more complete list of music releases this year, check this out.

And now, without further adieu…

Best Release of 2011: No Devolución by Thursday (*****)
Complete albums, ones that make a specific statement in mood and execution, are hard to come by.  That said, Thursday’s No Devolución is perhaps the MOST complete album of 2011. Here, the New Jersey five-piece is at their most inventive, merging shimmering post-rock flourishes and icy keyboards with their already visceral, car-crash style guitarwork.  The frostbitten synthesizer stabs and twisting guitar chime of “No Answers” displays a group that’s interested in sculpting the space around them.  Elsewhere, the oozing bass driven dirge of “A Darker Forest” shows they’re unafraid explore heavy overtones without always pushing their instruments into the red.  Yet the storm-like atmosphere might be the most engaging part of No Devolución, for Thursday effortlessly shifts from bludgeoning, angular dissonance (“Past & Future Ruins”) to glistening reverb soaked heights (“Magnets Caught In The Metal Heart”).  Through it all, Geoff Rickley’s dream-like explorations of intimacy and devotion ties it together, throwing his personal struggles against this musical maelstrom.  While his prose is more abstract than past Thursday offerings, Rickley explores the tightrope we all walk in search of authenticity, acceptance, and ultimately, love.  This conceptually coalesces in the swirling, white noise dénouement of “Stay True” where Rickely ultimately reveals that devotion is only real if we ourselves remain true about our desires and dreams.  Discovering this sort of truth has lead the group calling it quits after 14 years, but even still, it’s breathtaking to see a band follow their instincts, conviction, and hearts to create a modern masterpiece.  If this is the last time we hear Thursday, at least we’ll know they went out following their vision with an incredible swan song in No Devolución.  Key Cuts: No Answers, A Darker Forest, Past & Future Ruins

Best Debut: Yuck by Yuck (****½)
Someday, the 90s will be remembered liked the 60s: As a hot bed of musical creativity both in sound and aesthetic.  Until then, however, we’ll have to settle for a handful of groups that understand that while the critics and the mainstream calls it “retro.”  Yuck is one such band invested the sonic freedom that the 90s fostered (even if it’s 2011), and they used their exciting blend of Archers Of Loaf fuzz-pop and Smashing Pumpkins style emoting to create the year’s most exciting debut.   The group’s self-titled album starts with the reckless crunch and wail of “Get Away,” while “Shook Down” incorporates pillowy vocals and drifting acoustics before the feedback-wrapped solo knocks it into the stratosphere.  Yuck doesn’t stop there; “Suicide Policeman” falls somewhere in between the quaintness of The Kinks or The Beatles if Butch Vig got them signed to Sub Pop.  But by and large, the album’s real standout is the slow-motion ballad “Stutter,” where Daniel Blumberg’s dreamy vocals make time stop over trailing guitar lines and heartbeat bass work.  Part of the charm of these old 90s groups was their knack for finding a way to make the most intimate moments seem like lifetimes, and whether you listen to Yuck with nostalgia or critical curiosity they’ve certainly accomplished that here.  Key Cuts: Shook Down, Suicide Policeman, Stutter

Best Rock Release: Belong by The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart (****½)
How do you make your charming indie debut seem like a demo tape cut in your Mom’s basement?  You write a blissfully transcendent record while hiring Flood and Alan Moulder to add some much needed punch to the mix.  For The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart this resulted in Belong, a 10-track journey through shoegaze, twee pop and everything else in between.  The album’s title song starts things off with a blitzkrieg of space-like riffs that would make Billy Corgan blush, while the 80s-inspired synthesizers on “Heart In Your Heartbreak” display the group’s ability to balance texture with swirling, kaleidoscopic guitars.  Aside from its obvious genre cues though, the thing that makes Belong sparkle is its intimacy, both in sound and in subject matter.  Kip Berman spends a lot of time using his soft, androgynous voice to explore the moments where relationships fall apart or when the realities of impermanence catch up to us.  On the hazy, haunting power-pop thump of “Even In Dreams,” Berman examines the ideal of boundless loyalty, existing in a place we could only imagine.  Like the best rock albums, Belong catapults listeners into a place where mood becomes paramount to rationality, giving us impressions of feelings all too familiar, yet larger than who we are.  At the end of the day, this accounts for very little growing pains for The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, as they've created a record that displays natural maturity while keying in on the hurt that happens when we all grow up.  Key Cuts: Belong, Heart In Your Heartbreak, Even In Dreams

Best Punk/Post-Hardcore Release: Parting The Sea Between The Brightness & Me by Touché Amoré (*****)
Urgency has always been the hallmark of great punk rock.  Today, this is doubly true to separate the spectacular from the mundane; groups are playing louder, vocalists are harsher, and with the democratization of recording technology everyone can have an “authentic” sounding record. Yet listening to Touché Amoré’s sophomore album, you get the sense that urgency may still be alive and well, even if it’s simply relegated to the underground.  Clocking in at around 20 minutes, Parting The Sea Between Brightness & Me is the most important punk record this year.  Clayton Stevens and Nick Steinhardt smash each other’s guitars together like crashing waves, while Tyler Kirby’s sliding bass hits like a low-end battering ram.  “The Great Repetition” is a driving, sonic tailspin of claustrophobia, while “Art Official” benefits from slam-and-release style distortion.  Though things slow down on the funeral-style piano ballad “Condolences,” don’t think it’s the token sensitive track on the record.  Everything on Parting… has been constructed to be immediate and raw; the group recorded this album live in the studio, drummer Elliot Babin’s brash beats stop/start on a dime, and NONE of the tracks clock in over 2:21.  In short, Touché Amoré aren’t interested in distractions, they're interested in what’s real, both lyrically and in execution.  On “~,” Jeremey Bolm’s sandpaper shouts layout the group’s musical manifesto, set against adrenaline rush riffs and shimmering vistas, “If actions speak louder than words/I'm the most deafening noise you've heard…”  Key Cuts: ~, The Great Repetition, Art Official

Best Metal Release: Time Is Up by Havok (****½)
Contrary to what every 13-year old with an Internet connection believes, metal music doesn’t succeed solely on how fast or how LOUD the musicians might be.  A great metal record creates mood, a level of energy that gets your blood pumping and head banging.  Here’s where Havok comes in, because with Time Is Up, they’ve fashioned an exciting metal record that focuses on something crucial: Atmosphere.  Of course the riffs here are mean fighter pilots of palm-muted crunch, especially like on the blistering opening of “Prepare For Attack,” but amidst the plethora of laser dive bombs and pick slides they’re able to establish some infectious grooves that add heaviness without blowing out your ear canal.  The entire disc falls firmly in between the Metallica/Megadeth school of 80s thrash, but Havok isn’t afraid to shift time signatures with purpose, which ultimately avoids the current ADD-style riffing that needlessly complicates modern metal.  “Killing Tendencies” begins with a fat, low-end march, before exploding into a frenzied onslaught, while “D.O.A.” sports an honest to goodness spider-riff that would make Dave Mustaine tear up inside.  Though Jesse de los Santos’ vocal range may only cover a howl-to-shriek type of delivery, the thing that really gives Time Is Up its teeth and its staying power its sense of melody.  The solos here twist and flurry with the best axe men, but they suit the arrangements rather than being a flavorless grab bag of self-indulgence.  Indeed, Havok have delivered something special here, reminding us that sometimes composition and tension are just as important as rocking the hell out.  Key Cuts: Prepare For Attack, D.O.A., Killing Tendencies

Best Electronic Release: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo OST by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross (****½)
Let’s get the obvious out of the way: Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ kinetic, clamorous cover of “Immigrant Song (Feat Karen O.)” is as sexy and sleek as it is gothically inclined.  Moreover, the layered, slow-burn drift of “Is Your Love Strong Enough?” (Featuring How To Destroy Angels) provides another haunting bookend for The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo OST.  But where this three-disc collection of music really ascends is in Reznor and Ross’ continued drive to retain their signature voice while expanding their sonic palate.  Decidedly less glitchy than The Social Network OST, Girl… finds Reznor residing on the softer end of the spectrum, while creating menacing and tense soundscapes.  Synthesizers swirl and moan all over Girl…, casting shadows over these creeping, slinking arrangements.  Rumbling bass work often gives the sense of impending dread, while organic percussion is looped and warped to shimmer and hum, creating an ominous instrumental fog.  Additionally, white noise freak-outs are at a premium on Girl…, allowing Reznor and Ross to display their touch for the delicate without coming across as too ballady. On “What If We Could?” listeners are treated weighty piano while tense electronics create a wailing haze against twinkling xylophones.  While it probably adds another layer of weight to David Fincher’s new film, Reznor and Ross should be proud of what they’ve accomplished here, once again proving how innovative their creative chemistry is to electronic music.  Key Cuts: Immigrant Song (Feat. Karen O), What If We Could?, The Heretics

Best Produced Release: Codes & Keys by Death Cab For Cutie (****½)
The more Chris Walla takes up the producer credit on albums, the more impressive his ear and his skills behind the boards seem.  With Death Cab For Cutie’s latest offering, Walla helps Ben Gibbard and Co. blend soft keyboards and programmed drums with an organic, live-in-the-room sound.  Most of the time, Codes & Keys comes across like a vintage photograph, evoking vivid/arresting moods while seeming distanced from the harshness often displayed in modern production.  It's a special kind of feeling on Codes & Keys, soft but clear.  Though the album’s title track is a lumbering mix of stompy piano and soothing strings, cuts like the robotic hum of “Unobstructed Views,” or the buzzed out, zippy “Monday Morning” feel effortlessly spacious, and warmer than their keyboard-centric instrumentation would lead you to believe.  Gibbard’s surprisingly self-assured song craft is in fine form here, but Codes & Keys largely succeeds because of how in balance everyone’s instruments are.  Each player’s contributions are highlighted within Walla’s pristine mix, whether it’s Gibbard’s soaring guitar lines on “You Are A Tourist,” or Nick Harmer’s decisive bass work on the echo-soaked “Some Boys.”  Yet ultimately, Walla’s touch grants some crisp cohesion to an album that could have just as easily gone off the sonic railroad track.  Amidst soaring strings, snappy cymbal sequencing, and syrupy guitar lines, Walla allows all of his band mates to shine on Codes & Keys, a feat only a deft producer could display as effortless.  Key Cuts: Codes & Keys, You Are A Tourist, Monday Morning

Best Comeback Release: Neighborhoods by blink-182 (****½)
From plane crashes to Grammy announcements, the story of blink-182’s storied reunion has been plastered all over then Internet and then some.  The biggest question after the hatchets were all buried though, was could this trio recapture the promising potential they displayed on 2003’s (untitled)?  The short answer is Yes: Neighborhoods adds some beefed-up punk punch to the group’s continued preoccupation with 80s style synthesizers, trailing delay effects, and the tried and true dual vocals of Tom DeLonge and Mark Hoppus.  Look no further than the album’s opening number: “Ghost On The Dance Floor” features Travis Barker’s thunderous drumming, shining/technicolor snyths, twitchy guitar lines, and climbing bass work before it all explodes into a raucous, flange soaked bridge.  Though the group opted to self-produce given the passing of long-time “fourth member” Jerry Finn, they seem a lot more comfortable melding their divergent musical interests without an outside influence.  From the ascending, star-struck buzz of “Up All Night” to the downstroked frenzy of “Heart’s All Gone,” Neighborhoods might be the most diverse blink record yet, even if the production errs on the dry side.  Lyrically, Neighborhoods keys in on the decay of youth and old haunts, which seems apt given the trials and tragedy surrounding blink’s reunion.  Whether it’s the broken relationships immortalized on the high-hat heavy “After Midnight” or the twisting, Cure-flavored sexual tension of “Snake Charmer,” Neighborhoods finds blink-182 looking within while sticking to their adventurous sonic instincts.  Welcome back guys, it’s been a long 8 years.  Key Cuts: Ghost On The Dance Floor, Up All Night, Snake Charmer

Best E.P.: ††† by ††† (*****)
While the Deftones had a smash album last year, leave it to lead singer Chino Moreno to get antsy on the road.  Much like his 90s electronic side project Team Sleep, ††† (pronounced “Crosses”) has allowed Chino to scratch that creative itch while exploring yet another huge electronic trend: Witch House.  Yet unlike Salem, oOoOO, or any other variant of typographically challenged acts, ††† is a shining example if what the genre can yield rather than an exercise in tired beat making and pitch-distorted vocals.  Things get witchy pretty quickly on this E.P., whether it’s the snappy clatter and keyboard shower of “Op†ion” or the phantasmal shine of “†hholyghs†.”  While considerably lighter on gothic flourishes in relation to other witch house contemporaries, Moreno makes up for that with his often breathy, desperate, and hungry croon.  ††† as a whole does a great job of continuing to showcase how gifted a vocalist he is, especially on the midnight séance come-on of “Bermuda Locke†.”  But ultimately, what separates this fabulous E.P. from the deluge of lesser bands it’s grouped with is Moreno’s sense of grandeur.  With a little bit of financial means to back this vanity project, ††† never sounds like it was recorded on a janky four-track, and the large cathartic swells here seem bigger, brighter, and more powerful then one might expect from this genre.  On the closing, middle-eastern tinged “†,” Moreno’s project sounds simultaneously dream-like and cultish, the perfect musical storm for this supernatural take on electronic music.  Key Cuts: Op†ion, Bermuda Locke†, †

Most Ambitious: Bon Iver, Bon Iver by Bon Iver (***½)
Justin Vernon couldn’t go back to crafting ramshackle acoustic numbers after collaborating with everyone from Kanye West to Gayngs in 2010.  When you fly that close to the sun, the expectation is that you’ll shine brighter, and Vernon has done everything to make Bon Iver, Bon Iver into a vivid work of art.  If For Emma, Forever Ago was the sound of a man’s heartache secluded in a winter cabin, Bon Iver’s follow up is the thaw afterwards, with percussion that sounds like babbling brooks, keyboards that rise like the sun, and an infusion of horns and electric guitars to sculpt dreamy soundscapes.  Vernon takes sonic cues from icons like Peter Gabriel and Phil Collins, all in an effort to make his record feel like expansive place, almost like its Thomas Kinkade-style cover alludes to.  From the smoky guitar ring of “Perth” to the sighing keyboards on “Calgary,” Vernon marries slick instrumentation with soft atmospheres to give these songs a quiet sense of tranquility.  Arrangements weave and bend here, rather than rattle and creak, and the warmth suits Bon Iver even if it’s a bit distracting at first blush.  While this push towards a brighter, fuller sound can sometimes get him into trouble (The horn heaving “Beth/Rest” comes to mind) it’s commendable to see an artist, so lauded for his simplicity, stepping into something that requires a bit more meticulousness in terms of composition.  On “Holocene” Vernon’s whisper-honey voice chimes “And at once I knew, I was not magnificent…” over finger picked tension, but don’t buy it, it’s a sly misdirect.  Even with its imperfections, it’s hard to deny the pristine glimmer of Bon Iver, Bon Iver.  Key Cuts: Perth, Holocene, Calgary

Most Experimental: The King Of Limbs by Radiohead (*****)
Though it might not be entirely shocking that The King Of Limbs is unlike any other Radiohead album before it, it still stands to reason that Thom Yorke and the gang continue to twist our conception of music with every successful release they put out.  Not only that, but they make it seem effortless.  Borrowing everything from free-jazz to dubstep glitches, woodsy folk, and weightless space-rock, Radiohead’s latest release might be their most genre-bending batch yet.  Whether it’s the sultry clatter and groove of “Lotus Flower” or the misty, echo-soaked acoustics of “Give Up The Ghost,” Radiohead seem more insistent to challenge their listeners (and themselves) more than ever before.  Yet despite the increased level of programmed drums and laptop buzz, there’s something about The King Of Limbs that feels organic and secluded, a hidden sort of beauty that only reveals itself after repeated listens to these sometimes fractured songs.  “Bloom” unfolds with swelling horns, thick beats, and Charles Minus swagger, while the piano dirge and sole French Horn call of “Codex” is blissfully mesmerizing.  Though if there’s one constant in the land of Radiohead, it’s Yorke’s continually ethereal voice, balancing a wistful tenor with a darkly sexy coo.  He shifts from confrontational (“Morning Mr. Magpie”) to immersive (“Separator”) with a master’s touch, often contributing the most arresting moments on the LP.  While it may only be 8 songs long, The King Of Limbs is a confident display of restraint and experimentation, a labor of love from the most forward thinking group in modern music today.  Key Cuts: Lotus Flower, Codex, Separator

Most Eclectic: Hot Sauce Committee Part Two by The Beastie Boys (*****)
One of the most exciting aspects of hip-hop has always been the cut-and-paste hodgepodge of sounds that producers and DJs string together for MCs.  There’s a beautiful sense of diversity/ingenuity that comes from mining those found sounds, proliferating the craft of turn tabling as well as allowing the music itself to be aesthetically accessible to just about anyone.  Championing this in the 80s (and making a nearly 3 decade career out of it), The Beastie Boys reminded us in 2011 just how much fun that kind of music making could be with Hot Sauce Committee Part Two.  There’s thick, overblown bass, chunky reggae rhythms, spaztic jazz passages, punk rock whirlwinds, and a song called “Funky Donkey” for goodness sakes.  While the deceptively youthful Mike D., AD Rock, and MCA keep their dynamic tag team rhymes intact, it’s the instrumentation that takes precedent on Hot Sauce...  From the metallic clang and slide of “Nonstop Disco Powerpack” to the mammoth-sized beats and synthesizer pulse of “Long Burn The Fire,” the Beasties work like musical mad-scientists.  No sound is too strange, no instrument or aesthetic too far-out to pair with their absurdist bravado.  “Lee Majors Come” again features rhymes about the 6 Million-Dollar Man, set against dirty bass work and twitchy record scratches, while the speaker blasting fuzz of “Too Many Rappers (New Reactionaries Version)” feels gargantuan.  There are guest spots of course; everyone from Santigold to Nas, but the real feat here is how the Beasties still make their “everything-and-the-kitchen-sink” approach to hip-hop work, especially after 30+ years in the business.  With cuts this good, we can only imagine what Part One might be like.  Key Cuts: Nonstop Disco Powerpack, Long Burn The Fire, Lee Majors Come Again

Most Crapped On: Lulu by Lou Reed & Metallica (***)
For reasons other than the hype and pretension surrounding its overblown release, Lulu is an easy record to hate.  It’s needlessly long, dangerously monotonous, and to top it off, Lou Reed sounds like a homeless Allen Ginsberg at the depths of a heroine binge.  HOWEVER, if you can forgive all of the above (Which believe me, is a TALL order), you may actually find something to appreciate on this two-disc monster.  This is mostly because in the midst of Reed’s self-indulgent homage to a set of German plays exploring sexuality and violence, Metallica actually strings together some interesting arrangements, even exploring texture and mood in addition to their usual savage thrash metal.  While “The View” has been ridiculed for James Hetfield’s rough proclamation of being a table, the song’s main riff is doom-inspiring and Sabbath-esque, before crumbling into a chugging bridge and Kirk Hammett’s splattering lead work.  It doesn’t stop there: “Pumping Blood” alternates from clean passages to “Leper Messiah” style crunch, while “Mistress Dread” cuts faster than some of the group’s work on Kill ‘Em All, possibly for twice the length.  Elsewhere, the menacing heave and plod of “Iced Honey” recalls RELoad’s biker metal cool, proving that with all the problems surrounding Lulu’s execution and conception, Metallica aren’t an overwhelming part of that.  Still, it’s sort of a shame to feel like this star-studded album is simply a rough draft, especially when Reed’s dried-up croak makes an interesting collaboration into painfully average one.  Key Cuts: Pumping Blood, Mistress Dread, Iced Honey

Biggest Surprise(s): Camp by Childish Gambino (****)/No Kings by Doomtree (****½)
I had to pair these next two records together because I think with their DIY aesthetic and hunger they BOTH hit me in the exact same way.  Additionally, they’re both from underground artists that have been honing their craft for a while now; ones who are just now starting to see their discipline pay off.  With Camp, Donald Glover (a.k.a. Childish Gambino) has put his pop-culture machine gun of a mouth to good use, spinning tales of his awkward upbringing, while undermining the hyper masculine bravado still prevalent in hip-hop.  Over an expansive mix of genres, Glover hits on just about area sonic area imaginable, whether it’s 90s R&B glide of “Fire Fly” or the slash and burn fuzz of “Bonfire.”  The real gem, however, is “Backpackers,” where Glover’s Hans Zimmer-meets-Kanye West clatter provides the backbone for him to call out his contemporaries with masterful precision.  Given his tenure in the television world (30 Rock, Community), Glover has a comedian’s sense of timing that truly elevates his delivery on Camp, displaying a sense of timing that other rappers would cut their arms off for.  Elsewhere, No Kings by Doomtree takes a slightly different approach: While this Minneapolis rap collective has spawned some great individual artists (P.O.S, Dessa) No Kings is the first time the group exudes confidence, both in their music and in their message.  Whether it’s the barracuda bass line of “No Way” or the aching blues shuffle of “Little Mercy,” Doomtree are able to marry the punk spirit of rebellion with the gritty realism found in hip-hop.  The music here goes for the jugular: “Bangarang” features a shower of dizzying synthesizers, while cuts like “Bolt Cutter” and “Gimme The Go” relish in chip tune dissonance and expressive electronics.  Yet what sets No Kings apart is the fact that it’s a call to arms; addressing everything from the Occupy movement to racial inequity and social justice, No Kings is the kind of record that pushes people to see how the sausage is made, and whether or not it’s worth the price.  That said, the only question left to answer is with hip-hop records like Camp and No Kings, who needs Drake?  Key Cuts from Camp: Fire Fly, Bonfire, Backpackers / Key Cuts from No Kings: No Way, Bangarang, Little Mercy

Biggest Letdown: Major/Minor by Thrice (**½)
Though the bar may have been set to astronomical heights following Thrice’s sonically adventurous The Alchemy Index and the crystalline slow-burn of Beggars, it’s hard not to be disappointed with Major/Minor simply on a basic level of composition.  This may be the most vanilla sounding album of 2011, from Dave Schiffman’s “11-hues-of-flat” mix to Teppei Teranishi and Dustin Kensrue’s disappointingly cumbersome riffs.  Riley Breckenridge’s drum kit sounds muddled and muted throughout the entire record, and his brother’s bass simply disappears at times.  Nothing leaps out of your speakers, nothing makes listeners appear that things could go off the rails at any moment, and the result is a listening experience that never really takes off.  Part of the problem may be the group’s lack of initiative to explore new sonic territory.  Thrice went back to that stripped down, live-in-room setting they explored on Beggars, but with about half as many quality riffs.  Though the group occasionally finds a grinding groove (“Yellow Belly”) or a glimmer of grandeur (“Anthology”), it all seems too careful and calculated to really resonate in a meaningful fashion.  While Kensrue’s strained and cracked vocals add insult to injury, Major/Minor ultimately suffers from lack of purpose.  The album is a re-tread of ideas that Thrice have performed better on previous offerings: Nothing here is heavy enough to grab our attention, or surprising enough to defy our expectations.  Perhaps the group’s self-imposed hiatus will allow them to think about where to go next, rather than offer us another record like Major/Minor.  Key Cuts: Yellow Belly, Call It In The Air, Anthology

Biggest Blog Buzz: Torches by Foster The People (****)
From Pitchfork to NPR, you couldn’t adequately cover music in 2011 if you ignored Foster The People’s lively debut.  Propelled by the nimble bass bump and twitchy electronics of “Pumped Up Kicks,” Foster The People’s MGMT Jr. charm either won you over or stood as the commercial thorn in your side.  Place this blog and this reviewer in the former: Torches won me over not because of its sonic similarity to a lot of other electronic indie-pop acts, but by how it was able to sound pristine and immersive while still demanding your attention.  “Helena Beat” buzzes and slides with skittering keyboard chatter while the chiming “Waste” just might be the brightest sounding ballad this year.  Though the group’s ability to craft a radio-friendly hook is well established on Torches, the sweeter part of the record is how the group is able to maintain a great sense of space and balance throughout the disc’s running time.  Most pop production smashes instruments into an unidentifiable soup of sounds, but Foster The People put in just enough ear candy (a synth line here, a looped sample there) to keep things lively while allowing each instrument to occupy its own space.  Whether it’s the two-step arcade push of “Houdini” or the drifting fog of “Miss You,” Torches was the ready-to-listen-to record no one could ignore in 2011, and it’s no wonder why the radio and blogs kept buzzing about it.  Key Cuts: Helena Beat, Pumped Up Kicks, Waste

The Record That Should Have Caught On: Elsie by The Horrible Crowes (****½)
If The Gaslight Anthem’s last album (and Bruce Springsteen elbow rubbing) made them a household name, one can only hope that Brian Fallon’s ever growing notoriety cultivates some love for his low-key side project, The Horrible Crowes.  Drawing on jazz bar angst and smoky blues grit, Elsie might be the best record you haven’t heard this year.  From the thunder and sparkle of “Sugar” to the pub-crawl slur of “Ladykiller,” Fallon and co-partner Ian Perkins weave tales about fractured love in an all-or-nothing kind of world.  While the aesthetics may not be innovative or earth shattering, the songs feel fresh and new, almost cinematic without an overabundance of fancy instruments.  “I Witnessed A Crime” benefits from weeping guitars and Fallon’s weary croak, while the finger picked “Cherry Blossoms” is as aching as the disintegrating relationship it chronicles.  Spacious and rich, Elsie is nighttime music, the kind of record that’s as confessional as it is majestic.  On the chilly hymnal closer “I Believe Jesus Brought Us Together,” Fallon explores the cold burn of emotional distance with lines like, “Do you wanna come over?/I was just about to miss you/Did you say you were lonely?/I was just about to call you…”  Though there might have been more upbeat and effervescent albums this year, the songs on Elsie demand your attention.  Fallon taps into something primal here, exploring all the worries, scars, and ghosts that creep into our heads before we hit the pillow.  If you’re looking for a new record to speak to you in that starry-eyed sort of fashion, pick up The Horrible Crowes pronto.  Key Cuts: Sugar, I Witnessed A Crime, Cherry Blossoms

Worst Release of 2011: Angles by The Strokes (*½)
If I wanted to listen to an emotionless Flock Of Seagulls tribute band, I’d hit up Google.  Were Julian Casablancas to get over himself in the slightest I might consider cutting The Strokes some slack, but this is lazy music making.  For every dual guitar thrash-out that you hope will lead to something interesting, that hope is dashed away by a nasally croon that sounds like it'd rather be anywhere else than in the recording booth.  No thanks.  Key Cuts: Machu Picchu, Two Kinds Of Happiness, Games

WILDCARD: Strange Mercy by St. Vincent (****½)
As with my past WILDCARD picks, this is always a space for me to highlight a noteworthy album that I can’t seem to highlight in anywhere else.  There’s a certain amount of irony attached to my pick this year, mainly because the music present on St. Vincent’s Strange Mercy defies any sort of traditional categorization in its own right.  A cross between a swelling Disney soundtrack and a drugged-out, electronically bent nightmare, Strange Mercy finds multi-instrumentalist Annie Clark at her most musically adventurous.  Whether it’s the quirky zips and dives during the pulsing thump of “Cruel” or the twisted, gauzy climb of “Cheerleader,” Clark has finally settled into a sound that’s as threatening as it is elegant.  Though her voice may seem sculpted by angels, Clark spends the majority of the disc lamenting on how absolute faith and devotion can destroy absolutely everything, pairing it with her icy musical touch.  Indeed, love is a dangerous proposition in Clark’s world as she coos to be cut open on the blanket soft “Surgeon,” or rants about its production and sale on the frosty drift of “Champagne Year.”  For Clark, intimacy can be as much of a suffocating monster as loneliness can, and the twisted robotic crunch she brings to her soaring sweetness sonically mirrors this lyrical dichotomy.  In the end Strange Mercy, much like love, finds its beauty resting in the womb of contradiction, a delicate tightrope of pain and passion, light and dark, feeling and numbness, a set of contradictions that Clark is able to craft within her uniquely compelling musical perspective.  Key Cuts: Cruel, Cheerleader, Champagne Year

So there you have it, the records that left a sizable impression on me this past year.  What were your favorites of 2011?  Your most hated/loved?  Underrated?  Leave a comment below and share what records from 2011 stuck with YOU.