If you haven’t heard of The Arcs or listened to their debut album, Dreamily, Yours, the time is now! The Arcs is the side project for the lead singer from The Black Keys, Dan Auerbach.
While maintaining pretty true to his vocal range (and distinct growl), the album paints more psychedelic rock rainbows than garage rock fire, more nature’s child than a lonely boy.
It’s a welcome departure for Auerbach, and something I wish The Keys had done themselves as I tend to think too much of their music is too synonymous. Auerbach himself said the album is a bit more weird and trippy than anything he’s done prior.
"Yes, I'm changing," Kevin Parker sweetly serenades the critics, haters, and trolls, "Yes, I'm gone / Yes, I'm older / Yes, I'm moving on / And if you don't think it's a crime / you can come along with me / Life is moving / can't you see?"
The most talented musicians in the world adapt. They don't find one sound and stick to it. They become restless, striving to create something that makes their ears ring anew.
Vampire Weekend completely departed from its upbeat and poppy sound and made their best album to date centered on death and dark subjects. Arctic Monkeys did something similar. Kendrick Lamar's release this year sounded almost nothing like his prior classic album, but it was Lamar adapting to his life, circumstances, and influences, and responding in his own way. Bon Iver's Justin Vernon recently said in an interview (I'm somewhat paraphrasing) that the hardest thing about becoming a famous musician is losing sight that creating music should be for you. When you lose sight of that, you begin to create for others and lose a bit of identity and ownership as a creative. "It has to be real," Vernon said.
Luckily, Tame Impala's mastermind Kevin Parker keeps it real. Tame Impala's third album, Currents, is a wonderfully freeing musical expression and acknowledgement of adaptation for the sake of Parker and no others.
If A$AP Rocky’s first album was fogged in codeine and cough syrup and chopped up like his influences down South, his new album is a hazey dream on doper hallucinogenics searching for substance. In what is a surprising display of restraint and patience for an artist on a second album, A$AP’s record drifts along while I slowly visualize the world he sees. The world as described isn't all that interesting, but the music sure as hell is.
The Waterfall runs on a theme of water, its never ending flow and seemingly endless supply stream rampant through our lives and veins, yet as humans this breath of life is finite. We live before we die, we attempt to swim through the currents, sometimes we drown. "Time has come / world in motion / Heart of man swept into the ocean / like a river flowin' / like a river washes away," James sings in "Like A River."
This idea of water, life, and death plays itself throughout the album as James seems to be wandering himself.
The new album sounds more adventurous, such as "The Greatest," a weird punk rock hootenanny. It's a bit more exploratory like the psychedelic "Gemini." The band clearly had a few more options and instruments to experiment with which can be seen by the additional members in their touring band. But overall, I think they found a pretty good vibe for an album and avoided the dreaded sophomore slump.
Sophomore albums are always tough. There's too much expectation and too much to lose. Usually you're left disappointed as the songs sound like the first album, just not as good. But our faithful Father John Misty has made one of my favorite albums so far this year and expanded on his lyrical and songwriting abilities to bring together a gorgeous and sarcastic album on love.
As you may have read or already know: Father John Misty, real name Josh Tillman, first struggled to make somber, depressing music under his own name, became the drummer of Fleet Foxes, left the band, created Father John Misty, made Fear Fun, got critical acclaim, got married, made I Love You, Honeybear, got even more critical acclaim.
The Maccabees, a pretty well known band in the UK pretty well forgotten in the States, released their third album, Given to the Wild, in 2012. The album won NME's Best Album of the Year. It was listed as #15 in my Top 25 Albums of 2012, and now that I'm listening to it again, I think it deserved to have a higher ranking.
The album is an original. I can't think of any apt comparisons other than Bombay Bicycle Club's So Long See You Tomorrow (especially the atmospheric intro tracks that flow right into the second) sounding somewhat similar, but the BBC album pales in comparison.
This album is all about love - that which we follow, idealize, grab and grasp for, then take for granted and ultimately lose.
“As I’m getting older, chip up on my shoulder, rolling through life to roll over and die.”
Mac Demarco’s first line on the title track (and my #2 Top Song of 2014) of his album Salad Days perpetuates the strange dichotomy between Demarco’s public persona and his writing as a singer/songwriter.
One one side, there's his public persona - goofy, humorous, playful, idiotic, likable, and crude (instead of a band prayer/pep talk, I envision Demarco and his buddies playing the “Penis” game prior to stepping on stage). There's his ridiculously and I presume intentionally stupid documentary, Pepperoni Playboy, that has amassed over 500,000 views. His music videos are beyond comprehensible. His live shows are messy and completely enjoyable. I saw Demarco at The Great American Music Hall in SF, and Demarco broke his strings on three separate occasions, once asking his bassist to do a cover of Coldplay while he restrung his guitar. “Let Her Go” was played completely out of time, and Demarco laughingly stated so after they got through it. Demarco and Co. were in the middle of one song, and a fan jumped on stage, put his arms around the bassist and took a selfie. The bassist smiled happily for the camera. The show was more like a circus act, and I loved it. Demarco’s crazy persona was in full force.
Then there’s the other side.
Vampire Weekend’s Modern Vampires of the City is a gorgeous landscape of bright colors and sounds mixed into dark tones that will age with time. Lead singer and songwriter (along with Rostam Batmanglij), Ezra Koenig, is no longer singing about a fucking oxford comma - he’s gotten older and wearier and its effect is apparent. In the first track, “Unbelievers,” Koenig sings, “Got a little soul / The world is a cold, cold place to be / Want a little warmth / but who’s going to save a little warmth for me?…Want a little grace / but who’s going to say a little grace for me?”
His pessimism turns into an obsession with death for the remainder of the album.
2012 starts and ends with Frank Ocean. Channel Orange is an album that I will play until the day I die. It’s beauty - naked and fragile at times yet full bodied and confident in others - is unlike any other album to compare to in the past decade. Ocean’s falsetto on “Thinkin Bout You” wails in sincerity. His epic “Pyramids” runs a wild gamut of funk, R&B, hip-hop, and electronic elements. I always find it an amazing accomplishment to have a song that’s over 6 minutes (this being 9:53) that I can listen to constantly.
A Moon Shaped Pool is a dark confessional, most likely about the ending of his relationship with his girlfriend of 23 years. This album is a mini-orchestra with horns, cellos, violins, who knows what else. It all starts with the first notes - the strings - of the album on "Burn the Witch. "
It's further explored on "Daydreaming" and all of the orchestral elements come to an unforgettable crescendo on the most delicate song of the album, the wandering "Glass Eyes":
And the path trails off and heads down a mountain through the dry bush. I don't know where it leads and I don't really care.