The Best 50 Albums of 2005

50

Vashti Bunyan, Lookaftering (DiCristina/Fat Cat)
In the mid-’90s a fledgling Devendra Banhart wrote to wayward folk queen Vashti Bunyan, asking if he should continue writing music. Bunyan responded that he must. Ironic, since at the time she didn’t even own a copy of Just Another Diamond Day, the lost ‘60s classic that brought him to her counsel. But then, Bunyan is a kindred soul, the embodiment of the wandering spirit that Banhart’s music so brazenly embraces. “I wanted to be the one with road dust on my boots…and a band of wayward children, with their fathers left behind,” she declares on Lookaftering, her long-awaited sophomore record. This floating folk opus is a masterful examination of that desire, and its application, a collection of dreamy folk ballads rife with sage-like ruminations on life’s passage. There’s a reason artists like Devendra Banhart, Joanna Newsom, and Max Richter flocked to Bunyan’s side as she recorded it. This is the record they each dream of making when their own long journeys come to an end.
Andrew Phillips PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

49

Seu Jorge, The Life Aquatic Studio Sessions (Hollywood)
I’m a Wes Anderson nut. However, there was and remains one reason why I love The Life Aquatic: Seu Jorge. Sure, the idea of troubadour transitions threatened a repeat of the maligned Farrelly-Richman There’s Something About Mary collabo. And Brazilian takes on Bowie sounds positively café cliché on paper. But the lanky grace, weathered baritone, and calloused caress ensured the idea was in good hands. Jorge uncovered newfound majesty in a master’s greatest works, and, thankfully for the film, breathed pathos into an otherwise tortured exercise. The studio sessions can some of the starboard charm of the star’s on-camera performances, but the disc is a welcome feature for a genius moment in both cinema and music.
Dan Nishimoto Amazon iTunes

48

Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane, At Carnegie Hall (Blue Note)
This has been a year for uncovering lost jazz gems, but the crown jewel is this Grade-A recording of a 1957 Carnegie Hall concert by Thelonious Monk’s working trio with the surging talent of Coltrane’s tenor saxophone. Following Trane’s extended residency with Monk at New York’s Five Spot, this is the only high fidelity recording of the two giants playing together in complete comfort and relaxation. The quirky opening duet, “Monk’s Mood”, is perfection — you hold your breath and dread the band breaking the mood. Yet when they do, Trane and Monk launch into rippling glory. Much of Trane’s ’50s output was in his scalar “sheets of sound” style, but Monk inspires him to play with a steely melodicism. Monk dances and quips on piano while drummer Shadow Wilson is the Arthur Rubenstein of brushes. The result is more than a historical find — it’s the best music of the year.
Will Layman Amazon iTunes

47

Doves, Some Cities (Capitol)
From its opening drum kicks and squealing, spiraling guitar riffs, Doves’ Some Cities announces itself as a swaggering rock ‘n’ roll masterpiece. Over three records now, Doves have crafted a signature sound awash in moody atmospherics, ringing guitar anthems, and driving dance-friendly beats. Why they haven’t stormed the tepid waters of American radio I have no clue. “Black and White Town” is easily one of the most memorable singles of the year — not since the Jam’s “Town Called Malice” has an English band conjured Detroit Soul so well. With Some Cities, Doves have expanded their palette creating a record grand and epic in its sweep, balancing the rousing rockers of “Walk in the Fire” and “Sky Starts Falling” with brooding ghostly songs like “The Storm” and “Someday Soon”. Lead singer Jimi Goodwin’s voice rough and rugged howls the question, “When is it our, our turn?” The answer should be right now.
Timothy Merello PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

46

The Go-Betweens, Oceans Apart (Yep Roc)
The Go-Betweens’ 2000 reunion was a good thing, no question. Their comeback album was pleasant; the follow-up had moments. But not until Oceans Apart did Grant McClennan and Robert Forster recapture the gifts of wit and melody that had made them such a perfect band in the first place. It’s probably because both men are having fun. McClennan outfits his wordbending ballads with keyboards and sonorous backup vocals. Forster makes his more foreboding songs catchy again, winking at Talking Heads in “Here Comes a City” and tapping a xylophone in “Born to a Family”. People who’d seen the hype about this great ’80s band but never got what made them great: Here it is.
David Weigel Amazon iTunes

45

The Mendoza Line, Full of Light and Full of Fire (Misra)
If the Mendoza Line tried to emulate its idols on previous albums, it’s become one of those idols to a future generation of songwriters with Full of Light and Full of Fire. Quite simply, the band’s seventh full-length LP is destined to be an obscure classic, an album that brilliantly captures and depicts the loneliness and resentment of present-day America. While it’s specialized in literate drinking songs on previous efforts, the Mendoza Line sounds downright literary this time out, offering poignant stories with dynamic narrators the listener actually cares about. Musically, the band blends new wave, country, punk, folk, and classic rock with ease. More importantly, the entire album — while a genre hopper — is focused: the riffs are tight and the vocals impassioned. This isn’t indie music; this is American music. It’s also an album people will refer to years from now as an example of how it’s done.
Michael Franco PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

44

The National, Alligator (Beggars Banquet)
Unassuming enough to serve as background music, but catchy enough to require several consecutive listens, Alligator was the diamond in the rough of 2005. It was the soundtrack to my unemployed New York months and futile house arrest job hunt. But whenever “Friend of Mine” came blasting through my speaker, I jacked up the volume to introduce myself to my new neighbors, yelling the “I’m getting nervous” chorus trailed by its signature ’50s doo wop “na na na na’s” and the last thing I felt was worried. The National is the split personality of a venomous 2 A.M drunk message and the bouquet of flowers that predictably awaits on your doorstep the following morning. Chalk full of non sequiter lyrics like “I am a birthday candle in a circle of black girls” that may distract the unappreciated ear, this was the album that made all the sense in the world to me when I didn’t have any of the answers.
Eddie Ciminelli PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

43

The Magic Numbers, The Magic Numbers (Heavenly)
All the rage in Britain, this debut album from the duo of brother-sister pairs deftly mixes sunny ’60s California harmonies and folky guitar jangle with the epic melancholy of today’s British rock. The mood? A bright Sunday afternoon in early October, right before the leaves begin to fall off the trees. Though Romeo Stodart leads the band, the real stars here are Angela Gannon’s aching, supple vocals; the forceful, snaky bass lines of Romeo’s sister Michele; and, most of all, the record’s gorgeous arrangements. Some have dismissed the Magic Numbers as lightweight or lyrically inane, but their work is hard to resist because it displays such a well-constructed balance between musical extremes, moving gracefully from rough to smooth, loud to soft, and fast to slow. The Stodarts, who co-produced the record with Craig Silvey, clearly possess an impressive knack for musical dynamics.
Jordan Kessler PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

42

Akron/Family, Akron/Family (Young God)
It might be a desire to return to the simpler things that has fueled the folk revival amongst the indie rockers, but nobody told Akron/Family. The Akron/Family approach to songwriting is one of building from the formless mass and adding elements to elements until a song happens. If a sound or element can be added to make the song better, it will be. As a result, we get the Family’s eponymous debut, an album that features long stretches of a cappella, tinkly synth noises, rocking chairs, and thunderclaps. Sure, there are drums, guitars, and the lovely broken vocals of Ryan Vanderhoof, but it is the “other” that Akron/Family brings to the table that makes it special. “I’ll Be on the Water” is bar-none the most beautiful folk song that was released this year, and very little can approach “Shoes” for fun and freedom in musical form. Michael Gira was wise in signing them to his label — now he gets to be a part of the evolution of one of the few bands for whom the possibilities truly seem endless.
Mike Schiller PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

41

Jamie Lidell, Multiply (Warp)
From harrowing electronic noise ballistics to Wonder-esque groove-daddy soul-funk, Jamie Lidell has made the most transgressive and immodest moves in the latest era of the acclaimed Warp label. While so many IDM artists have gone in for intense demonic attacks, Lidell’s latest record is intense funkadelic pranks: he sings (a little like Jamiroquai!) with a pleasantly infectious stupidity about the labors of love, the need for sex, the joys of being a pop star, and he does it all with the edgeless joy of a true radical. After his early work, Lidell doesn’t need to prove to anyone that he’s got the chops to break your ears. For now, he’s planning to seduce. The production of his recycled post-Google R&B is synthetic and green. This is music to help grow plastic plants. Fatboy Slim steals his funk, Lidell makes his fresh, and it still sounds more classic. And there’s less irony. Less appropriation and more dedication. Although I have no guesses as to what Lidell plans to do next, I think his growing legions of fans would like him to make the dog-ass do the dance a little longer. What he needs is a Bootsy Collins and an Indian headdress made out of rubber, 12 strippers with touchpads, and he’s the biggest rock star since Peter Gabriel. Lidell was always a collagist and his new work has the kaleidoscopic pink flush of a Dearraindrop installation. Multiply is nuts at a squirrel party. You want this winter to last forever, he’s so clever, he makes the snow melt. This is fuck music for those kids who haven’t done it since they started listening to Autechre. Put your head back in your pants and listen to something sickly sweet.
Lee Henderson PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

40-31: Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings and more.

40

Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, Naturally (Daptone)
Sharon Jones’s career arc is less dramatic than the rediscovery of Howard Tate, but her return from obscurity (and a job at Ryker’s Island Jail) is equal cause for celebration. Like fellow Augusta, Georgia native James Brown, Jones knows a thing or two about keeping the groove, and Naturally is a blast of horn-drenched, sexy, sweaty, old-school, lockstep soul. Jones even pays worthy homage to Brown on the brand new bag of “Your Thing Is a Drag”, showing off the Dap-Kings’ road-tightened sound. The album’s highlight, though, is easily “This Land Is Your Land”, where Jones and company retool Woody Guthrie’s classic as a slinky soul workout. From the funk of “Natural Born Lover” and “My Man Is a Mean Man” to the tender soul of “How Long Do I Have to Wait for You”, Naturally makes you feel like you’ve discovered your own hidden slice of classic soul.
Andrew Gilstrap PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

39

Kathleen Edwards, Back to Me (Rounder)
While I jumped up and down, drooled and pontificated a little less about this one than I did preaching to many about Failer, Kathleen Edwards’s songwriting and craftsmanship will only continue to improve, which is a blessing for anyone not going deaf (sorry Foxy Brown). The sophomore album contains gems such as “In State” and “Good Things”, the former a possible continuation of “Six O’Clock News” if her beau weren’t shot. From there you’re thrown headlong into the Petty-perfect title track and a fabulous cover of Jim Bryson’s “Somewhere Else”. Then there are the tender moments like “Copied Keys”, “Old Time Sake”, and “Pink Emerson Radio”. But the key to the album is the cocky swagger fuelling the roots rock of “Independent Thief”. Another one hard to top, but I said that about Failer. My bad.
Jason MacNeil PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

38

Supergrass, Road to Rouen (Capitol/EMI)
Not so much Supergrass is 11 as 11-going-on-40, Road to Rouen finds the band in smoked-out, nature-loving, laid back form — an almost 180-degree switch from the cool, twangy space-pop of Life on Other Planets. At times Supergrass is so unapologetic about its backward-leaning ’60s sensibility that you find yourself momentarily annoyed (as in the opening bouncy bounce of “Low C”). But like a rolling meadow the sound quickly envelops you in pastoral pop warmth: you can almost see those French starlit nights. Two months post-release, the album’s still solid, though more “Step Into My Office”-era Belle & Sebastian than classic, “Pumping on Your Stereo” fist-in-the-air ‘Grass. But listen to “St. Petersburg” and try not to smile. It won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s hardly the band’s road to ruin, either.
Dan Raper PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

37

Silver Jews, Tanglewood Numbers (Drag City)
While it’d be oblique by any other musician’s standards, Tanglewood Numbers is easily David Berman’s most direct and personal work. The album may be framed by two honest examinations of his life — “Punks in the Beerlight” (“I always loved you to the max!” he promises (presumably) his wife, Cassie) and the closer “There Is a Place”, where he alludes to the battles with drugs that resulted in his band’s four-year hiatus with the ominous “I saw God’s shadow on this world” — but Tanglewood Numbers is much more than Berman’s “recovery record”. It’s a summation of his career, from fuzzed-out indie (the aforementioned “Punks”) to alt-country waltzes (“The Poor, the Fair and the Good”) to the uncategorizable flotsam and jetsam in his and co-conspirator Stephen Malkmus’s brains (“The Farmer’s Hotel”). Tanglewood Numbers stands as the finest record in Berman’s stellar discography.
Stephen Haag PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

36

System of a Down, Mezmerize (American/Sony)
What the first disc of System of a Down’s ambitious double album may lack in focus, it makes up in fervor. The more sober Hypnotize might have been the more consistent CD, but the madness of Mezmerize provides the most thrills, whether it’s the blastbeat-driven polit-metal of “B.Y.O.B.”, the brooding “Lost in Hollywood”, the staggering one-two punch of “Question!” and “Sad Statue”, or the ferocious stomper “Cigaro”. Like 2001’s Toxicity, this record has its share of absurd, Zappa-goes-aggro interludes, but for all the caterwauling about gorgonzola, Nabisco, and Tony Danza, they seem to gel far better than the band’s earlier, more sophomoric tracks ever did. The topic of much discussion among fans, guitarist Daron Malakian shares lead vocal duties with lead singer Serj Tankian, and for all the criticism of Malakian’s nasal whine, when juxtaposed with Tankian’s more authoritative baritone, the pair offset each other surprisingly well. The fact that a band as weird, inimitable, loved, and reviled as System of a Down managed to put out two number one albums in six months speaks volumes as to how important a hard rock band it has become.
Adrien Begrand PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

35

The Mars Volta, Frances the Mute (Universal)
Barely in control, occasionally incoherent, and consistently intense, Frances the Mute lets the Mars Volta tear through as many styles as minutes on a disc, and the group melds them all perfectly. Its lyrical density will keep you occupied through as many listens as you can handle, but you’ll need a drink of water (or something) to relax in between spins. Putting aside Cedric Bixler’s difficult content, we’re still left with manic guitar work and some of the year’s finest drumming merging powerfully. The sound feeds conspicuously on the past but shows no concern for historical or contemporary context — it’s pure emotion, electric scream (even when whispered), and precise anarchy. The band rarely rests, and it expects as much out of its listeners, leading to an album that’s every bit as rewarding and enjoyable as it is intense and demanding.
Justin Cober-Lake PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

34

Kate Bush, Aerial (Columbia)
After a dozen years between records, Kate Bush begins with silence. Aerial starts with quiet, then birds tweet, and then the sound of a child quietly calling. More than a minute goes by before Bush sings, and it feels so good to hear her dulcet tones again. Her mock operatic voice sweeps and soars through two discs of grand passion and the glory of daily life experienced. The first disc, “A Sky of Honey”, contains seven songs that move through the cycle of the day. Bush goes through a range of rock styles, from the funky and dramatic to the quiet of a piano solo and ends, again, with the sound of birds and silence. The second disc, “The Sea of Honey”, collects seven marvelous songs that move from the ardor of a woman for her dead husband (“Mrs. Bartolozzi”) to the mind of a mathematician (“Pi”) with grace and flair.
Steven Horowitz PopMatters review Amazon

33

Queens of the Stone Age, Lullabies to Paralyze (Interscope)
Prior to recording QOTSA’s eagerly awaited fourth album, main man Josh Homme lost two elements crucial to his band’s past success: bass player Nick Oliveri (gone due to personal issues) and celebrity skin-pounder Dave Grohl (back home with the Foo Fighters). But rather than fold, Homme raised the stakes and returned with Lullabies to Paralyze, a remorseless and meticulous killer of an album. Other bands may be louder, meaner, or angrier, but no band can match the blend of sinister inevitability and hooky songcraft evident throughout Lullabies. Whether it’s the high octane, cowbell-driven chug of “Little Sister” or the eerie, Escher-like geometry of “Someone’s in the Wolf”, Homme and Co. cut with the macabre precision of a surgeon with a buzz saw. Lullabies didn’t capture the music public’s attention like 2002’s Songs for the Deaf, but don’t be fooled; QOTSA MK II may be leaner, but they’re also better.
David Marchese PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

32

Curumin, Achados e Perdidos (Quannum)
This Brazilian wildman is all about the swinging-butt thing, which is why he got a record deal with the mighty Quannum collective. When he turns it on, it cooks: “Samba Japa” is sublime, and he brings together Rio and Sao Paulo funk for “Cade O Mocotó?” But his song structures are much more than just mindless fun — at times, his chord changes mimic the enigmatic brilliance of early Milton Nascimento and Gilberto Gil. And when he does protest music, there ain’t no half-stepping; his charmingly accented slow burn on Stevie Wonder’s “You Haven’t Done Nothing” proves that Brazil’s President Lula has lost the support of the average joao in the streets. Forget your favela booty beats… this is the sound of the future.
Matt Cibula PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

31

The White Stripes, Get Behind Me Satan (V2)
For the last couple of years, it seems that Jack White has worn a bulls-eye on his red, black, and white outfits. Some say he’s gone commercial, some say he’s gone way too snarky, and others are tired of his supposed one-trick-blues/rock pony that somehow manages to work for he and ex-wife/”sister” Meg (who still gets slammed for not being a “real” drummer). So what does White do? He says the hell with the guitar (with a couple of exceptions), and makes the most experimental, yet engaging album of his career. Though most songs are still only two instruments long, the piano and the marimba have become White’s preferred weapons of choice. First single “Blue Orchid” is awash in squeals of both guitar and voice, but the rest of Get Behind Me Satan connects with scorching, irresistible melodies. I dare you to shake the song “My Doorbell” from your soul. “Denial Twist” and “Take Take Take” are just as catchy, while “The Nurse” and “Forever for Her (Is Over for Me)” showcase White’s marimba talents. Everyone wondered how the Whites would follow up the crazy success of Elephant, but nobody suspected it would be with an album where the guitar makes only cameo appearances. It’s that kind of risk that paid off for the White Stripes. Get Behind Me Satan is challenging yet catchy, and loaded with surprising twists and turns… and is my top album of 2k5.
Lou Friedman PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

30-21: Animal Collective and more.

30

Animal Collective, Feels (Fat Cat)
In 2005, Animal Collective was featured in Entertainment Weekly. Although this may not be the most perfect of Animal Collective’s target audience, it goes a long way to showing how admired this oddball group is. Feels finally falls into the groove that fans of the band have always known existed: that of sculptors of songs alongside their already established makers of thrilling sounds. It still remains challenging, but only in the best way because, in the end, it pays off. This is a band equally as influenced by stalwarts such as Captain Beefheart and Faust as it would be by found sounds (garbage trucks in the early morning, the staccato of beeping horns over myriad blocks in NYC, the internal noise of a person chattering their teeth). In a year that showed no shortage of experimental music, Animal Collective rose to its already set challenge and, much like a punked-out Steve Reich or Philip Glass, searched for the melodies within the mathematical equation that is music. The results really must be heard.
Jill LaBrack PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

29

Devendra Banhart, Cripple Crow (XL)
Flooded with love and inspiringly idiosyncratic, Cripple Crow engulfs in tone and timbre. Unabashedly optimistic and unapologetically earthy, this ample abundance of songs simultaneously seethes with psychedelic splendor and immediate intimacy. Giddy giggles abound, cabaret camp struts around, and sensuality smolders with a warm gauzy glow. With the record resonating to a trilling thrill distilled down from the essence of youth itself, Banhart proves all at once enchanting, engaging, and absorbing. Transcending freak folk, he boldly steps forth from pervasive dismay and disenchantment to insist upon palpable joy. A refreshingly post-irony burst of sincerity, Cripple Crow is an affirmation of hope and idealism in an otherwise abysmal era for progressive thought.
Josh Berquist PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

28

Editors, The Back Room (Kitchenware)
For Editors there are probably worse things than having every review of your record mention Interpol. Then again, Yanks have been looting the cross-Atlantic ’80s English alternative trove for decades now, so maybe such admiration is slightly nettlesome. Why not draw the comparison directly back to the roots like Joy Division, Echo & the Bunnymen, and Bahaus instead of lumping these Birmingham lads in with a cluster of American knockoffs like the Killers and the Bravery? Everyone knows the Brits always do it better anyway, and on their debut The Back Room, Editors turn up the bright lights higher than any of the recent class of throwback Wavers in the Colonies with fiery tunes like “Bullets” and “Munich”, songs with as much hopefulness as despondency. For Editors this anthology of universal themes has the aching underpinnings to persist, even after all the others have faded away.
Shandy Casteel Amazon Amazon UK

27

Babyshambles, Down in Albion (Rough Trade)
Rambling, shambling, gambling Pete Doherty has secured his freedom from the Libertines but cannot escape the shackles of his own self-destructive nature on this determinedly dishevelled yet naively charming debut set by Babyshambles, in name the band’s first release but in every other sense their leader’s premiere solo outing. Down in Albion gathers 16 songs, all characterised by hollow-eyed arrangements, deathly pale harmonies, and lyrics that wallow in a sickly self-pity. Yet there is something naggingly compelling about these highly personal cameos, mixing literary references as diverse as Susan Collidge and Dickens, Wilde and Jean Cocteau, with musical hooks that recall the Smiths (“Kilimangiro”) and lyrical themes that bring to mind Ray Davies on the magnificent “Albion”. Strands of frayed folk here, a dollop of darkly comic calypso there, production values that suggest no-fi rather than lo-fi, this collection mirrors the super muddle of Doherty’s maudlin and picaresque life. Death or glory, he muses on “Fuck Forever”. It’s going to be a close-run thing.
Simon Warner PopMatters review Amazon UK

26

Opeth, Ghost Reveries (Roadrunner)
After a decade honing its highly distinctive and progressive death metal sound, Opeth released its eighth album, the nonpareil in its esteemed discography. An exhilarating marriage of the haunted and the haunting, stately yet aggressive riffs commingle with gorgeous melodies so seamlessly, the countless stylistic shifts sound natural, not arbitrary; with several songs in the ten-plus minute range, Ghost Reveries meanders languorously, but for all the tempo changes and acoustic interludes, the meticulousness of the arrangements and the intense, confident performance of the band holds our interest throughout. The addition of keyboardist Per Wiberg adds even more depth to the band’s rich sound, but singer/guitarist Mikael Åkerfeldt remains Opeth’s focal point. He is in fine form, both vocally, displaying tremendous range from beastly growls to emotional crooning, and lyrically, as his imagery and themes of loss and regret evince a Poe-like elegance. The year’s single most essential metal release, it’s a dark, ghostly masterpiece that’s more beautiful than skeptics of the genre can ever fathom.
Adrien Begrand PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

25

Fiona Apple, Extraordinary Machine (Epic/Clean Slate)
Apple’s third collection of great songs has teeth, but there’s also enough sugar in its intimacy and immediacy to leave a few cavities after each listen. The title — a poke at the bloated, overwrought major label record-making biz that kept this gem off the shelves for so long? — serves as synopsis of Apple’s ability to manufacture smart, style-laden pop music. Producer Mike Elizondo serves up the increasingly effectual songwriting with low-fat clarity, though the first and last tracks feature healthy scoops from the seemingly bottomless bin of producer Jon Brion’s three-ring circus of acid trip sophisti-pop. Mostly, Apple’s pungent, bendy alto rides over guitar-tough harmonies that balance pop song, story-telling, and rock classicism. Of the million-and-one female singer-songwriters to emerge since Joni and Ricki Lee made the profession cool, how many have made a bid for similar greatness? Extraordinary Machine confirms that Fiona Apple is a very sharp needle in that haystack.
Will Layman Amazon iTunes

24

Lucinda Williams, Live at the Fillmore (Lost Highway)
The first official live album from the First Lady of American Song, this has been a long time coming. After all, Lucinda Williams recorded her first album in 1978. But it’s been worth the wait. As presented here, Williams’s show starts slowly, quietly. Remarkably, the first eight songs are subdued but beautiful expressions of doubt, hurt, and vulnerability. Then with the last pained howl of “Blue” still crying on the wind, she drops the bomb. The thudding drummed introduction to “Changed the Locks” leads into a series of Williams’s raw, pounding electronic blues that culminates with the fabulous “Pinoela”. The remainder of the set flits from style to style, and then draws to a close in an eloquent reflection of its opening with “Bus to Baton Rouge” and the minimal mournful blues of “Words Fell”. The only downside — of sorts — here is the song selection. Of the 22 songs on Live at the Fillmore, 11 have been taken from Williams’s most recent studio album, World Without Tears — you have to wonder what the two absentees, “Minneapolis” and “People Talking”, had done to offend her. A further seven come from its predecessor. But then this isn’t a record of Lucinda Williams’s entire career, it’s a record of her 2004 tour, so why carp about the songs she doesn’t play when you can just wallow in almost two hours of her precious essence?
Roger Holland Amazon iTunes

23

Gorillaz, Demon Days (Virgin)
Demon Days can be summed up in two words: Dennis and Hopper. The fact that Dennis Hopper does an entire track of spoken word on Gorillaz’ masterpiece-thus-far and it doesn’t sound even remotely close to out-of-place says volumes for the varied nature of the album. Of course, this wouldn’t be close to possible if it weren’t preceded on the album by a rap from MF Doom, an Ike Turner piano solo, and the presence of Shaun Ryder rambling about something or other. It’s all held together by the expert hand of the hot production whiz of the moment, Danger Mouse, with Damon Albarn serving as primary chorus writer, artistic director, and tea maker. The best part is that it’s the cartoons, those wonderful living drawings from Jamie Hewlett, that make Gorillaz palatable to the masses. There would be no hope for Demon Days if it were simply a Mouse/Albarn collaboration. Rather, the cartoons allow us to open up to the absurd, in turn allowing Demon Days to be the most willfully off-the-wall album to go platinum this year.
Mike Schiller PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

22

The Mountain Goats, The Sunset Tree (4AD)
The Mountain Goats’ frontman John Darnielle is a Booker Prize nominee trapped in a singer-songwriter’s body. His efforts have always been aural novellas masquerading as concept albums, with an uncommon literary quality and compelling stories tying everything together. Following this bibliophilic train of thought, Darnielle’s latest album The Sunset Tree is his magnum opus, the highest point where ambition and maturity meet and cohabitate. The Sunset Tree is a confessional autobiography of Darnielle’s tumultuous relationship with his abusive step-dad. Darnielle brings you down a heart-wrenching path of pain, playfulness, and passion. The 13 tracks colour an absorbing narrative arc, from the teenage angst of “This Year”, the conflict of “Lion’s Teeth”, the epiphany of “Love Love Love”, and the resolution of “Pale Green Things”. By being so blatantly honest and lyrically candid, coupled with the stellar production values of John Vanderslice, Darnielle has created one of the most gripping Bildungsroman — in any format — ever.
Kenneth Yu PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

21

Elbow, Leaders of the Free World (V2)
While you people in the States won’t get this one until early February, we north of the border have it already. Na na na na na! And finally, Elbow has ditched the softer, deft pop domain for a series of well-placed guitar riffs and airtight arrangements resulting in grand, epic tunes. Guy Garvey has found his footing, especially on the stunning opener “Station Approach” that plods along, slowly building before majestically blossoming with a “Yellow”-ish guitar riff. “You little sod I love your eyes / Be everything to me tonight” Garvey sings during the homestretch. Just as stellar are other singles, especially the bolero-fuelled “Mexican Standoff” and “Forget Myself”, the latter’s conclusion sounding eerily similar to the closing of Don Henley’s “Dirty Laundry”. And don’t let politically oriented title track fool you. It’s a rock record. A great one at that!
Jason MacNeil Amazon iTunes

20-11: Bright Eyes and more.

20

Bright Eyes, I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn (Saddle Creek)
The fact that in just a few years Conor Oberst went from playing half-empty bars in the Midwest to being covered by every major media outlet is fascinating. That he did it on his own, independent, non-commercial terms is amazing. That this coincided with a widening and deepening of his own songwriting is best of all. Both of Bright Eyes’ 2005 albums are intimate and direct, yet ambitious, pushing Oberst in new directions while crystallizing his strengths. I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning gives a troubadour vibe to Oberst’s stories of life and love in the big city, while taking his small, personal songs and turning their focus outward, increasing their universality. Digital Ash in a Digital Urn wraps self-probing songs filled with Oberst’s usual obsessions — in essence, struggling to find hope in a world of death — in an organic, rhythmic, electronic-pop sound that lifts them to exciting new heights. Together the albums represent serious sonic and emotional range, and the maturing of a constantly evolving songwriter.
Dave Heaton PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

19

Sigur Ros, Takk… (Geffen/Universal)
Iceland’s most enigmatic sons released another masterful album in 2005, delivering a stunning mix of atmospheric guitars and haunting vocals. Part way through the first proper song, “Glosoli”, it becomes instantly clear that Sigur Ros is in rare form. Takk… doesn’t find the band venturing into uncharted territory; instead it builds on the sounds explored on its previous two outings. Occasionally following down the quieter paths of the enigmatic melodies explored on 2000’s Agætis Byrjun, and at other times opting for more tumultuous paths of the bombastic drums and bass of ( ), Sigur Ros winds its way through songs that paint a pastoral landscape as gorgeous as its native country. Stunning, gorgeous, bombastic, touching, breathtaking and a host of other adjectives only begin to describe the majestic sounds that this band conjures, and the range of emotions these sounds evoke are equally unbound. Sigur Ros at its best can break your heart and lift you to the moon in the same song.
Dave Brecheisen PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

18

Kanye West, Late Registration (Roc-a-Fella)
Kanye West’s shaky, emotional voice while uttering the infamous “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” sentence on prime-time TV demonstrated what Late Registration listeners should already have known: he shoots from the heart. His rhyming style is unique for how intuitive it seems. It might not be technically perfect, but it jibes perfectly with the lyrical diversity of his songs, the way he goes from boasting and joking to crying and reminiscing in a heartbeat. It’s an album that dares to be stupid and smart, angry and silly, painful and joyous. The rhymes are further elevated by a layered, carefully crafted sound of melodic, atmospheric soul. Guest vocalists sing with yearning; strings and horns blend with samples of old soul and blues songs; MCs from disparate backgrounds make show-stopping appearances and disappear. Boundaries smoothly slide into each other, and everyday music is built.
Dave Heaton PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

17

Beck, Guero (Interscope)
I’m not a long-time Beck fan. I thought “Loser”, his debut single, was verisimilitude: you say you’re a loser? Fine. End of. But I’m now happily addicted to Beck’s sixth release, Guero. Produced with the Dust Brothers, the songs are a mix of head-bobbing bass (“Hell Yes” and Jack White of the White Stripes funkin’ the bass on “Go It Alone”) and smooth guitar (“Scarecrow” and “Emergency Exit”). Unlike cultural vampire Gwen Stefani, Guero‘s a walking tour through Beck’s artistic development as influenced by Brazil, Japan, and East L.A.: The self-deprecating Chicano slang use in “Qué Onda Guero” (“Where you going, white boy?”), bassa nova love lost melancholy on “Missing”, and the rapping nod to Japan in “Hell Yes.” And he still manages to bring it all home with electronic chip music, synthesized bleeps and arcade game noises reminiscent of his past work. Beck’s beat is nice? Hai. Hell yes.
Kimberly Springer PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

16

Wolf Parade, Apologies to the Queen Mary (Sub Pop)
Over-the-top vocals. Insipid cover art. Ill-conceived song sequence. This year’s best new underground rock band unleashes one of the best records of the year. And despite a blunt presentation, this album succeeds thanks to the songs — songs that are so thunderous and torrential, they’re unforgettable. It’s as simple and unassailable as that. “I’ll Believe in Anything” and “This Heart’s on Fire” catch you in the stomach and will keep luring you back for years. It’s the sound of shoot-for-the-moon ambition colliding with shoot-to-kill intensity. This is the foolhardy lack of restraint that separates Wolf Parade from its peers, lupine or otherwise. Storm-proof rock zealotry that’s far more compelling than the output of the other, slicker bands of the moment. Attention spans will continue to shrink, but Apologies to the Queen Mary will sustain its potency. (Recommended listening circumstances: on headphones, walking through snowstorms; driving in a shitty station wagon through rainstorms; on a crappy boombox, trapped in a storm cellar with a lovelorn lover.)
Liam Colle PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

15

Blackalicious, The Craft (Anti-)
In a year when Eminem wheezed out a Best Of and the Black Eyed Peas learned that they could sell records faster if they sucked harder, we needed a great hip-hop act to grace us with a comeback. Praise the Lord, Gift of Gab and Chief Xcel delivered. Working with a live band, serving up hooks that could be another group’s samples (the piano in “Supreme People” and “Side to Side,” the guitar riffs in “Powers”), Gab and Xcel tear through 14 songs alternately funny, sexy, nerdy, and thoughtful. On “Supreme People” they even have a political song that doesn’t make you wince. Le Tigre, take notes.
Dave Weigel PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

14

Bloc Party, Silent Alarm (Vice)
With a seemingly unending tide of bands being hyped this year by the British press (Arctic Monkeys, Test Icicles, Clor, Babyshambles), only one has remained standing at the end of the year. With its debut album Silent Alarm, Bloc Party took the angular guitar thing it seems every band on the planet is doing right now and pumped it full of everything the competition was missing — heart. The resulting 14 tracks are a mesmerizing, enthralling, and thrilling batch of songs with not one bit of filler in the bunch. Angry and romantic, urgent and thoughtful, Bloc Party navigates the complex emotions of its songs with an assured maturity and undeniable confidence. It’s not surprising, then, that each of the single-worthy tracks were given the remix treatment and re-released to fans who wanted more. The resulting disc was an equally compelling album that twisted their songs into new shapes, revealing previously unseen facets of Bloc Party’s layered songs. Silent Alarm made a big noise this year for a reason, and its depth becomes apparent and enriching with each subsequent listen.
Kevin Jagernauth PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

13

My Morning Jacket, Z (ATO/RCA)
My Morning Jacket seem to be peaceful guys, but they’ve waged war on the Flaming Lips. The title of Baddest Psychedelic Indie Rock Band in the States is now up for grabs, as Z proves the Kentucky band can transmit sunny atmospherics and lofty melodies through far more than just spectral country-rock. “Worldless Chorus” flavors the band’s previous formula with a touch of dub; at its conclusion, frontman Jim James cries like Prince reborn. “Off the Record” employs fat, syncopated rhythm for bounce, heavily reverbed guitars for depth, and keyboards for an air of classic soul. “Lay Low” rocks unapologetically: two tireless lead guitars shimmy to a keyboard-laced groove, intermingling for three of Z’s finest minutes. While this is not a perfect record, it succeeds by avoiding pretension despite banking on bliss-out, seamlessly fusing an array of impulses, and above all, being a vast pleasure to listen to.
Nate Seltenrich PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

12

Common, Be (Geffen)
I remember the first time I heard Be. The sun was setting over the Hudson River, seemingly playing hide-and-seek as it darted between buildings in the Jersey City skyline during its slow decent. I remember finishing the album and being left in a very serene and contented mood, appreciating my life just a little bit more than I had an hour before. These sentiments echo through Common’s lyrics. His verses dart from personal and cultural topics pulled from his life in Chicago to more worldly topics like spirituality. Common wears the image of a hip-hop veteran well, settling into the role with mature and unpretentious rhymes that are complimented by the soulful production of Kanye West. Common has shrugged off the critics that dogged him after the 2002 release of Electric Circus and appears to have hit another stride in his already celebrated career.
Stephen Stirling PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

11

Architecture in Helsinki, In Case We Die (Bar/None)
Is indie-pop too gentle? Not raucous enough? Architecture in Helsinki’s second album is gentle and raucous, made of a million sweet melodies, intricately woven together and then set on hyperspeed. A funeral bell opens the album, introducing its theme: not death as much as living now, in case we die. Then the group bounces forward like a rambunctious marching band/choral group, its eight members playing anything they can find that makes a sound, chanting like sugar-fed cheerleaders but also singing sensitively and sweetly. It’s big, colorful, joyous party music that’ll make you cry, scream, and dance your ass off, all the while contemplating your own mortality.
Dave Heaton PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

#10-1: The Decemberists and more.

10

The Decemberists, Picaresque (Kill Rock Stars)
Gleeful aesthetic that sounds like Art majors and English grad students raided the liquor cabinet? Lyrics obsessed with drowning, mythology, and love condemned to the widow’s walk? Yep, it’s the Decemberists, dancing to their own inner sea chanty and continuing their quirky, odds-defying run. It’s not just that Picaresque dazzles with its range, sweeping from imperial majesty (“The Infanta”) to foot-tapping protest (“16 Military Wives”) to wistful death folk (“Eli, the Barrow Boy”) with a few stops in between — it’s that the album brings all that’s great about the band, all the promise it’s shown before, under one cover. And in the case of “Eli, the Barrow Boy”, the Decemberists show that they’re also learning to transmute the base metal of arch intelligence into the gold of universal human emotion.
Andrew Gilstrap PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

9

Okkervil River, Black Sheep Boy (Jagjaguwar)
Since 1998 Okkervil River has been putting out a consistently strange and beautiful brand of twisted folk-rock. Its records were always interesting, often heart-stopping, but somehow a song or two away from perfection. On Black Sheep Boy the band came into its own by producing a focused collection of songs pondering everything from the mythology we force on our children (“In a Radio Song”) to the nature of what’s real in a culture that’s become hyper-obsessed with “reality” (“For Real”). Musically anchored by Jonathan Meiburg’s swirling keyboard patterns and a variety of acoustic and electric guitar sounds Black Sheep Boy is songwriter and vocalist Will Scheff’s most satisfying statement to date. Sheff’s wounded wail, which at times seemed forced on previous releases, is an instrument of faith on Black Sheep Boy, cracking and swimming through the dense instrumentation, punctuating the lyrical tales with convincing emotion, filling the songs with an abandon that teeters between unhinged and unforgettable.
Peter Funk PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

8

Sleater-Kinney, The Woods (Sub Pop)
I have become fully convinced that The Woods has not only obviated the entirety of Sleater-Kinney’s previous recorded output, but the sum total of all other current music as well. Quite frankly, nothing else matters next to such a monolithic achievement. Sleater-Kinney had previously made its career as a perennial critical darling, producing exquisitely wrought punk with a poppy, girl-group edge that set it slightly apart from its ostensible peers in the “riot grrrl” movement. The Woods is so heavy, and takes such unabashed glee in demolishing their reputation as finely-tuned pop-punk craftswomen, that many critics didn’t really seem to “get” it — but that’s OK, they’ve got the rest of their lives to realize that this is quite possibly the defining rock album of the decade. Just when it seemed that there was nothing new to be said with guitars and drums (OK, it seemed that way to me, at least), three ladies from Olympia produced an epic meditation on the inescapable feeling of nauseous disorientation that immediately follows the moment you realize that the world has taken a nasty turn, and that you’re too old to think you can change it. It’s not just a political album, however — I’d even go so far as to say that the political implications run a distant second to the savagely intimate emotional content. Rarely has rock so effectively captured the full spectrum of disappointment, from jaded disillusionment (“Entertain”) to bleak, suicidal nihilism (“Jumpers”) to the riotous, lustful freedom that comes from realizing there’s nothing left to lose (“Let’s Call It Love”). An expression of primal, inexhaustible passion welded to a fully articulate and ruthlessly mature worldview, The Woods is quite simply in a class by itself.
Tim O’Neil PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

7

The Hold Steady, Separation Sunday (French Kiss)
At last someone had the balls to cut the Boss with his own mythology. The ghost of Tom Joad is so flaked with Henry Fonda dander that Craig Finn — coming across like the boozy motormouth ghost of James Agee — sounds like the new day rising. That old vomit-flaked Twin Cities diary becomes the source for this astonishing frothstream of words, which channels right through the band’s tender-hearted guitar-piano-horn cacophony (just like the E Street Band used to kick up). When Finn sets down and writes a missive to the snot-nosed hoodrat winking at him from the shotgun seat, he ends up with a love letter to America: danger in Dallas and fields of speed in the amber waves of grain. Sure, Separation Sunday is mostly about the nostalgia of decadence (yea verily, all them bedspins did bestow some wisdom upon Finn), but it’s also about Catholic schoolgirls, blackouts, wrong-way drives, and putting your mouth around a difficult question. You can trip over hyperbole just thinking about this record: they really are the country’s most intuitive bar band fronted by our most original songwriter. Scratch them into your soul or stomach lining as the case may be.
Mark Desrosiers PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

6

Andrew Bird, Andrew Bird & the Mysterious Production of Eggs (Righteous Babe)
Selecting the words to adorn an album this endlessly subtle is a nightmare made worse by the fact that Andrew Bird is truly a singular musical figure; describing him as a whistling folky fiddler bluesman with a songbag of worldly fables soaked in romance, empathy, and wit… accurate, but it totally fails to prepare you for the bittersweet sweep of the orchestration, or the delightful nimbleness of touch and musicianship as he strolls through three allegories at once within one catchy, beautiful song. Bird is emphatic without surrendering to seriousness, and knows that the blues are an irresistible emotional upwelling of any and all colours; an easy smile on his lips, he croons and quips his way through a wonderland as close to a more lyrical Enid Blyton as to a relaxed David Foster Wallace. There are songs about how fantastic it is to play rock music loudly, about dating ads, about a man who buys the weather. “Tables And Chairs” plays like a little elegy to all the dreams and pleasures we need to get us through the day (and maybe the apocalypse), “Masterfade” is a magical ode to relinquishing delusions of control over life and relationships, and “Mx Missiles” is probably the least patronising yet most quietly heartbreaking anti-war song since “Two Little Boys”. All of these songs are more than description would imply, and I’ve yet to find an identical favourites list on all the web. Maybe the titular theme of the album is songwriting, maybe it’s having (and being) children in this modern world, but either way these songs are both personal and open to all. The French music press has dubbed this album a UFO (“ovni”) because it’s so different from everything else out there. Andrew Bird comes in peace and in wisdom. Welcome him.
Stefan Braidwood PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

5

Spoon, Gimme Fiction (Merge)
Gimme Fiction is a fully operational dissection of a rock record, flipped on its back and sliced down the middle with a scalpel. Hence the guts, the protruding innards of what makes an album tick: studio chatter, unspooling tape machines, bum instrumental takes left uncorrected, and close-range intimacies of skin on equipment spill out in criss-crossed patterns over the record’s taut runtime. Call it a betrayal and a bolstering of the intricacies behind the Austin band’s curtain. Spoon’s continued experimentation in the realm of controlled, meticulous haphazardness yields songs like the blooming, dissonant “The Beast and Dragon, Adored” and the dizzy “Was It You?” — proof that craft plus an embrace of happy accidents equals unexpected triumphs.
Zeth Lundy PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

4

M.I.A., Arular (XL)
M.I.A. is Maya Arulpragasam, a refugee from the Sri Lankan civil war between Tamils and the majority Sinhalese. Her album, named for her militant Tamil father, seems steeped in that kind of cultural conflict while trying to transcend it; it encompasses a variety of influences — hip-hop, dancehall, British slang, electronic music, sound collage, video-game noise — without exactly assimilating them. Nevertheless Arular proves cacophony can be catchy. Her much-heralded cut-and-paste style sets elements against each other in a delirious din of stuttering rhythms, static-laden samples, and singsong chants. The record bristles with the allure of urban violence viewed vicariously, lending radical chic to the realities of immigrant life just as gangsta rap does for the ghetto. But there’s no complacency or resolution to be found in Arular‘s abrasive, unsettling mix. And don’t assume M.I.A.’s fame has denatured her music. These songs still explode like improvised bombs; this is dance music conceived as guerilla warfare.
Rob Horning PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

3

Antony and the Johnsons, I Am a Bird Now (Secretly Canadian)
Strip away the hegemony of testosterone in rock music, brush off the twee trappings of indie pop, ignore distortion (on guitars or vocals) and electronic instruments and equipment, and what’s left is Antony and the Johnsons’ beautiful I Am a Bird Now. With songs that sound sparse even though many have complete musical ornamentation (a tribute to Antony as his own producer), there is just no escaping the feel of this record. Exemplified by the album’s standout track “Fistful of Love”, Antony’s trembling warble shakes amidst an augmentation worthy of Stax, a song that doesn’t pull at heart strings but instead breaks its own. But I Am a Bird Now is not a confessional or blistered-soul song affair. There’s a quiet, permeating hope on this album, and it takes the form of a haunting energy. There is no aggression on this record — but it’s not fey, or twee, or wimpy, or even really androgynous. No, this is music that transcends gender; this is pure human emotion.
Ryan Gillespie Amazon iTunes

2

Sufjan Stevens, Illinois (Asthmatic Kitty)
One doesn’t have to know that Sufjan Stevens is religious to understand that these songs are a kind of prayer. The spiritual intensity is clear, whether it’s in the heartbreaking story of a serial killer (“John Wayne Gacy, Jr.”) or the suffering of a friend watching another die of bone cancer (“Casmir Pulaski Day”). But all is not dark and serious. The latter song even has an upbeat banjo and trumpet played, which shows how sweet life can be, even when shortened. The second disc in Stevens’s self-proclaimed project to make an album about all 50 states, Illinois goes from the Black Hawk Wars to Mary Todd to Frank Lloyd Wright to that strange roadside attraction like a tourist on the best of road trips. Stevens writes charming melodies and catchy lyrics. Who else could rhyme “the great debater” with “the great emancipator” and still make one want to dance?
Steven Horowitz PopMatters review Amazon iTunes

1

The New Pornographers, Twin Cinema (Matador)
Amidst the near-constant search for new hooks, undeniable melodies, and messages that pierce to the heart of the soul, there are also the intangibles of music, abstract and ambiguous aesthetic forms that defy easy categorization, but are there, plain as day and yet too slippery to grasp and even harder to reproduce. One is a sense of what can best be described as “exuberance” — an internal, dizzying pull that feels rich, energized, shimmering, earthy, and vibrant — even when the songs themselves aren’t your typical brand of sunshine and smiles. For the course of three albums, the New Pornographers have simply had it, and this ineffable chemistry has bled through all the crooked tunes and barbed hooks to be the most winning aspect of their formula. Twin Cinema is, in many ways, simply a continuation of what the New Pornographers have been delivering since Mass Romantic, though it has surprisingly many (relatively) subdued songs, but the most marked difference is the clarity and crispness that the vocals are treated to, making this the first of their discs to foreground the lyrics over the rich power pop soup of the music. Because of this, songs like “Twin Cinema”, “Use It”, “Jackie, Dressed in Cobras”, “These Are the Fables”, “Broken Breads”, and “Stacked Crooked” wind up being some of the most distinctive songs in the group’s catalogue. And while there are far more restrained tracks on Twin Cinema than on their previous releases, that sense of vibrant life still runs through all of Newman’s and Bejar’s songs as the single unifying theme of the band.
Patrick Schabe PopMatters review Amazon iTunes