Albums You Missed in 2010, Part One
At the end of each year, music writers give a great deal of attention to a rather small array of albums. This annual heralding is great, and it helps to focus listening patterns and fuel conversations—the sort of things that good music tends to do. And while 2010′s crop of "best of" is well worth your listening time and energy (The National, The Arcade Fire, Kanye, Best Coast, The Tallest Man on Earth, Sufjan, and so many others), I want to also make some space in January for the records you might've missed in 2010… the albums that, for whatever reason, just didn't get the love or the press or the online attention. I'm not going to say that these records have mass appeal (what ever does?) or are perfect compositions, but I think that within each of these albums there's something to appreciate and to dwell on, something worth focusing on—and returning to.
Jim Bryson & The Weakerthans: The Falcon Lake Incident
[image error]Unfamiliar with Jim Bryson's work, I picked up this record solely for the Weakerthans—and wow, what a surprise. If you're a fan of the Weakerthans, this is more of what we've come to expect and love: midtempo tracks with smart lyrics and instrumentation that ranges from the perfectly sparse to the appropriately brash. "Freeways in the Frontyard" is a standout a track, a quiet number worth a few minutes of your time:
There's something pretty incredible in those drawn out verses, and there's something immediately likeable in nostalgia-heavy lines like "let's watch the clouds collide and cover up the setting sun / just like we did when we were quite young." In many ways, this record feels like it should be a soundtrack to a film: A movie where people kick around a small town filled mostly with porches and diners and the ghost of something industrial. I think I've seen that movie—or maybe I've just listened to this record so many times that the narrative has built itself from the verses. Regardless, this is absolutely one of 2010′s hidden gems. And if you're not yet familiar with the Weakerthans, consider this an introduction to your new favorite band.
Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin – Let It Sway
Let It Sway marks the next step in an impressive evolution for Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin (SSLYBY), a growth from droney bedroom lo-fi (see, for example, Broom, their standout debut album) into something of a power-pop group. Then again, "power pop" has a number of connotations attached to it, and it's not entirely fair to toss SSLYBY into that mix. Consider, for example, "Back In The Saddle," Let It Sway's opener, and my hands-down favorite track of 2010. It begins with the quiet, almost muted sound of bedroom lo-fi but then kicks into something more anthem-like, a whirlwind of guitars and sing-along vocals and deceptively simple lyrics. But then, just when you think you have the pattern figured out, the song stumbles into an outro, spiraling out of hand in its closing moments. It's totally impressive and beautiful. (And I'll link here, for the time being, to an incredible mashup of "Back In The Saddle" and various Aerosmith footage, which is equal parts awesome and a reminder of how terrible Aerosmith is):
There are, however, poppier moments on Let It Sway, and the album's title track is a reminder that, despite all of the subgenres and splinters of contemporary rock music, there's a lot to be said for some verses and choruses and a good hook:
To be totally honest: On the first few listens, Let It Sway seems much stronger in its opening throes than it does in the second half. But this record is a grower, the kind of thing that blossoms with additional listens and attention—really, the best kind of pop record. When I look back and think about the albums that have moved me most, they're always the ones that, on first listen, seem too simple or too odd. But through the repetition of a single track, I find myself exploring the neighboring songs, and then the songs that neighbor those songs, until I've wound my way through the whole collection. And then the whole thing comes together as an obsession, an infection, a reminder of why I'm drawn to new music. Start with "Back In The Saddle" or "Everylyn" or any other hooky track on the record and then work your way through the rest. I'm pretty sure you'll find yourself in love with one of the most (tragically) underrated albums of 2010.
Against Me – White Crosses:
Unlike The Falcon Lake Incident or Let It Sway, White Crosses isn't a record for everyone, and if you're not drawn to punk or brash vocals or stacks of electric guitars, I probably wouldn't recommend this record. But for the rest of us, those who cut our teeth on punk and have since pushed into other directions, I think there's a lot of great things happening on White Crosses. I found White Crosses when, in the space of a long drive, I had the iPod set to shuffle through some new albums, and—wham—the opening chords hit hard, a sort of audio brick through the window, a reminder of the first punk records I purchased that were equal parts aggressive and electric.
Now, a bit of necessary context: Against Me gets a lot of internet hate for "selling out," and a cursory Google search will yield any number of stories and opinions about the band's move from an independent to major label—as well as changes in lyrical content or musical stylings. And once upon a time, at age 16, in my punk rock prime, I might've been concerned with such things. Not so much now. I'm not the biggest fan of major labels, but I do understand the desire to have health insurance or to put some money in savings, and I also know that the interests and perspectives of artists shift over time. Fair enough. So, in short, I'm not entirely interested in the punk rock community's problems with Against Me.
What I am interested in, however, is the way that White Crosses paints a sort of picture of youth. It's a move you can see in so many songs (I think immediately of the differences between "Bastards of Young" and "Love Untold"), but Against Me really manage to weave the bittersweet with the angry. Look at "I Was A Teenage Anarchist":
There's the obvious-enough sing-along chorus — "Do you remember when you were young and you wanted to set the world on fire?" — but the truth, the energy, the crux of the song boils down to that last moment of the last verse, after the melody has just slightly shifted upwards and everything comes to a halt on "The revolution was a lie." There's a break there, an understanding that time morphs and attitudes shift and that what once worked or was promised won't always be that way. That what once seemed so genuine and honest was always marketed, always constructed, always impossible. And for me, mixed with the whole of a loud, uptempo, four-four record, there's something to really like in that honesty and that memory and the music that grows from it.
I do think that New Wave was a stronger record, and if you haven't heard New Wave, even if you're kinda sketchy on brash rock-n-roll, the first track (and its Replacements-homage video) is absolutely worth a spin. Still, White Crosses is a fine successor (with a opening track that's just as good as New Wave's) and a reminder that Butch Vig still has the same sort of sonic grasp that we once heard on Experimental Jet Set, Thrash and No Star and Siamese Dream. I'm not, mind you, saying that White Crosses is on that level… instead that, maybe, I have a lot of love for the music of the early/mid-90s, and that, occasionally, there's a track or an album that echoes something from that era. White Crosses is that kind of an album, and it's one that just didn't see enough love in 2010.
