Greetings from a Gilmore Guy
Written by Nat Bourgon
November 2016
In September 2007, as a 19 year old university student, I was standing in the kitchen, in the house I was renting. I was pulling out expired food products from the fridge, to dispose of them, when suddenly a girl walked into the house, and smiled at me. She said hello spiritedly, but it wouldn't have mattered if there were no words uttered: It was all in her smile. From the instant that bright, upbeat, and contagious smile of hers swept across the room, and recruited my attention, I knew we were going to be friends. A connection was made that day, between that girl and I. That connection with that girl has endured to this day as the most profound, impactful, close friendship I have ever shared with another human being.
I still can't get over how such a subtle, low key smile ended up being the catalyst for a friendship for the ages. It was like this girl and I understood each other right from the get go. What's striking is that the first meeting was such a brief, and minor one. It came so unexpectedly. There was no faking, no putting on a show here. I didn't have time to be anything other than me, because the moment just sneaked right up on me. I was just living my life, going about my own business, when all of a sudden this moment materialized. Nothing was forced, there were no expectations of the girl becoming a close friend, there was just that moment happening and me being myself while the moment was unfolding, without a hyperactive, racing mind keen to make sense of the developments, and without intense self-awareness. This moment taught me to learn to appreciate the small scale, seemingly casual moments in life, as they may hold more significance and value than we could possibly imagine. Also, it taught me about the importance of being engrossed in the present moment, without over analyzing the context and meaning behind the moment. The minute you add in context and meaning is the minute that things become more complicated and messy than they need to be. Sometimes it's the most modest, unassuming moments that can make the biggest impact on a person's heart and mind, no further drama necessary.
Whenever I am feeling overwhelmed by adulthood, I bring myself back to this quiet, yet paramount fall 2007 moment of innocence, where I was just being me, and another human being took note, and we connected in a no-frills, unobtrusive, yet transformative way. In retrospect, I have realized that it is moments like this; pure, selfless love, with a side order of playfulness, that makes life such a special gift. In a technology age, I think it is so easy to forgot that comfort, connectivity and lightness can be retrieved more readily, and satisfyingly in person, sitting in a room across from a human being who you care about, yakking rehashed inside jokes from decades ago, and partaking in a bundle of laughs. Online social media is an alternative way to relate to others, but it ultimately doesn't feel nearly as affecting as being able to bond with someone where their eyes are across the table from you, instead of displaying on a screen.
With the return of Amy Sherman-Palladino's Gilmore Girls upon us in the form of a Netflix revival, it occurred to me that Gilmore Girls is important not only because it champions the underrated, subtle moments in life where we connect with each other in the face-to-face, look into my eyes style of communicating, but also because it equips us with a foolproof strategy to handle the more challenging times in life. Lorelai Gilmore often lightens the heavier obstacles she faces by adopting comical levity. She makes light of her conundrums, and laminates them in a goofy, yet whip-smart frame to get through them. Lorelai and Rory's close mother-daughter relationship expands as a result of their shared ability to deal with life's harder moments through whimsical wisecracks and clever, sheepish one liners. Gilmore Girls reminds us to enjoy our lives, even while navigating through conflict and uncertainty. For Lorelai Gilmore, positive vibes come from being able to view life as one long, loony gag reel, complete with a slew of mishaps worth laughing along with. The show demonstrates that there is great reward and satisfaction in embracing the surprisingly unexpected binds, and the bizarre and tangled circumstances that we find ourselves in, and making light of them. Oddball, quirky Kirk (and Cat Kirk) would most certainly agree!
Gilmore Girls is important because it teaches us to overcome hurdles through positive demeanor and snarky sass. The characters of Lorelai, Rory, Emily, Luke and Kirk are flawed characters; they each have areas of their life in need of attention and betterment. Yet, they find ways to come to terms with their own imperfections through witty dialogue, a commitment to making deep, close knit relationships with each other work despite the imperfections, and a willingness to gently, warmly mock their own selves. They don't run away from their problems. Even better, Stars Hollow residents are usually more than willing to enjoy the moment, and carry on with optimism and good humoured banter in between implementing changes. Gilmore Girls shows us that being positive doesn't have to mean being naive. The show reminds us that our status as "works in progress" shouldn't restrict our ability to get fired up on life, and walk around with that bounce in our step. Lorelai loves her generous helping of coffee to start the day, but even on the occasions where hasn't yet had her morning cup, she is still playful and spunky and charismatic. The series proves that laughing at ourselves doesn't have to be self deprecating. Gilmore demonstrates that living in the moment doesn't have to mean being ignorant of our warts. Ultimately, Gilmore Girls gives us permission to be simultaneously unfinished, yet sparkling.
Thursday 24 November 2016
Monday 20 June 2016
Randi Driscoll- Glass Slipper
Randi Driscoll- Glass
Slipper
A feature article by Nat Bourgon
It is telling that “Glass Slipper” opens with “The Rest”, a
song with genes as candid and gutsy as found on “Let Me Be Your Angel”, the impassioned
lead off track from Randi Driscoll’s 2000 breakthrough album “The Play.”
Indeed, Driscoll's new album "Glass Slipper" stews with the raw, confrontational sizzle that roasted "The Play” to crisp appeal. Both records inspect the way in which love writes the shape of our souls, through tests, traffic jams of faith, and transformation. If “The Play” is an angst infused, fiery diary of a romantic relationship’s circuit from delight to dissolution, chronicling the twinkle and glitter of early promise, to the ache and injustice of endnotes, then “Glass Slipper” is a matured, mindful sequel, sixteen years on. A preliminary listen may reveal steady gushing from a coupled up woman, thriving in the expanse of love’s inner circle. However, behind the swaggering gleam of a happy heart, lies a meditation on the merits of self-love. “Glass Slipper” spells out the benefits of being your own angel to yourself first and foremost, instead of determining self-worth and value from being another’s angel or easily shunned excess. “Glass Slipper” advises that it is through loving yourself fully and nurturing your own physical and mental capacities with care and respect that allows you to achieve the well-suited, harmonious love that Driscoll spends much of the record praising.
Indeed, Driscoll's new album "Glass Slipper" stews with the raw, confrontational sizzle that roasted "The Play” to crisp appeal. Both records inspect the way in which love writes the shape of our souls, through tests, traffic jams of faith, and transformation. If “The Play” is an angst infused, fiery diary of a romantic relationship’s circuit from delight to dissolution, chronicling the twinkle and glitter of early promise, to the ache and injustice of endnotes, then “Glass Slipper” is a matured, mindful sequel, sixteen years on. A preliminary listen may reveal steady gushing from a coupled up woman, thriving in the expanse of love’s inner circle. However, behind the swaggering gleam of a happy heart, lies a meditation on the merits of self-love. “Glass Slipper” spells out the benefits of being your own angel to yourself first and foremost, instead of determining self-worth and value from being another’s angel or easily shunned excess. “Glass Slipper” advises that it is through loving yourself fully and nurturing your own physical and mental capacities with care and respect that allows you to achieve the well-suited, harmonious love that Driscoll spends much of the record praising.
With “Glass Slipper”, Driscoll realizes
that you can become privy to a more profound pocket of love when you become a
thoughtful, committed lover to your own being.
Instead of placing its bets on turning to companionship for a heroic
saviour, “Glass Slipper” reframes the argument so that being loved becomes a bonus
by-product of loving yourself resolutely. “Glass Slipper” claims that having a
supportive, loving partner is a reflection of the work you have done on yourself.
The idea is that the best relationships are launched by the renaissance of fulfillment
weaved into your radiating, inviting body language, found from accumulating the
pride and courage necessary to be thoroughly true to who you are. “Glass
Slipper” places the onus for a vibrant lifestyle and inner conciliation on your
own self, and situates a prized partner as a representation of your inner
elation, instead of the reason for it.
Both “The Play” and “Glass Slipper” are
concerned with love’s implications, the type lurking on a deep down, gut level.
Driscoll’s songwriting has always been at its tallest when she becomes an
outlet and point of release for our most innate, private thoughts. Driscoll’s
music makes it feel acceptable for us to have unsorted racket inside our
brains. She takes the art of instinctual communication a step further throughout
the new album by divulging otherwise reclusive, buried layers through the
movement and enunciation of her voice. As
recently articulated by her longtime producer Larry Mitchell, Driscoll’s words
may provide a concise summary, but it is her voice itself that does the
elaborating. Despite her pictorial instrumentation and metrical lyrics, Driscoll’s
voice always manages to do the heavy lifting, and thus becomes the focal point
of the ears.
After
flexing her pop muscles a little more markedly on 2006’s “LUCKY” by raising the
melodic agreeability of her songs and upping the tempos, and then furthering
the craft of piano balladry to enchanting effect on 2009’s sparser “365 Days”, “Glass
Slipper” reacquaints us with Randi Driscoll’s activist-like spunk that
precipitated heavily over “The Play.” “Glass Slipper” contains the most
kaleidoscopic, sonorous songs of her career to date, dressed in the most
decorative apparel of sound she has sported yet. The songs on “Glass Slipper”
feel juiced up on life. They are lit up by the knock of opportunity and the
lift of an upswing, even at their most severe and baggage-heavy. Driscoll sings
like a glowing beacon, rallying others around her self-love cause, spreading
her hard fought warranty and wisdom onto trail blazing biscuits, smearing away
the smirks of cynicism and manifesting a revolutionizing sandwich of supportive
endearment.
Whereas “Let Me Be Your Angel” (From 2000’s “The Play”) is a
request for love that makes a disarmingly forward pitch for an unlimited
massage of pursuit, followed by the groove of ongoing congruence, “The Rest” is
the long awaited next chapter. Exploring the healing process for when love’s
flame flickers out, and fronted by tempestuous, flustered piano and a festering
past that won’t budge, “The Rest” examines the side effects of dissolved
connectivity. It asks: How do you regain the resources needed for self-care, a
crucial next step post-breakup, when you feel you have exhausted your bank of
love on your heart’s former muse? It ponders: How are you supposed to love
yourself, when the love that you dished out to your ex seems to stand as a
gassed, historic landmark, and when your emotional capacities are broke?
In “The Rest”, Driscoll works to make peace with her
leftover anguish that was previously closeted like a not yet unpacked storage
box. It is evident that by this point she is enough removed from the thick of
the distress, to be able to report on the hurt without flinching into slippery
turmoil’s comeback. The distance she has acquired from the events depicted in
‘The Rest” allows her the luxury of reflection first: the chance to consider
the takeaway from her experiences, and offer commentary coming from a less
fragile field. This is unlike the scenario of “Let Me Be Your Angel”, where you
can hear that she is knee deep in the struggles of the storm, and that she is extensively
dependent upon interpersonal love to make it through.
“The Rest” thrives on
providing a glimpse into what it feels like to be dealt an unfixable blow of
finality in a relationship, without turning into a rueful, regretful revisiting
of an already poached past. “The Rest” uses the disharmonious tension
productively, to zero in on the importance of moving forward and reclaiming
autonomy of the self through activities of self-improvement and mending. Even
when she recounts the time when a relationship’s unhinging led to the diminishing
of her inner light, the emphasis is placed on restoring her own psyche’s calmer
waters. Her words reveal a shattered
preoccupation, but also a great determination to get on with it and attain a
balanced outlook. “Time heals the wounds but not the scars/Close my eyes and
there you are/And it’s getting hard to breathe/Cause when you left/You took the
best of me/And now there’s nothing left of me.” Driscoll is well versed in the
damage done by a relationship’s ending, but she seems less interested here in
venting or head hanging, and is instead focused on using the fizzle out as fuel
to advance her own narrative along a forward thinking, healthier trajectory. More than anything, she wants to get back to
a place where there is more than “nothing left” of her, so she can experience more
of what life has to offer.
“Cinderella Left the Ball” is an ode to persevering with
your own handpicked settings, in a world where others ask you to cater to their
possibly limiting conceptions of you. “Cinderella Left the Ball” reinforces the
permission you granted to yourself to invent and reinvent yourself on your own
terms. It is a song about subverting outward expectations, and learning to
revel in your quirky distinctions, to breed a boosted plane of existence. “So
they built you a box but you just didn’t fit/So they built you a wall/You
climbed over it/Tried to put you in a tower/But you just ran away/Tried to tell
you what to think/Tried to tell you what to feel/Tried to tell you who to
be/But that just wasn’t real/They’ll never see you/Cause they’re looking the
other way.” Here, Driscoll reminds you that you are the author of your persona’s
dictionary. “Cinderella Left the Ball”
expresses that your curvy scribble of character and the penmanship of your
heart are special and valuable because they are uniquely yours. The arrangements in “Cinderella” are
flamboyant and therapeutic at once, as energetic yet unthreatening waves envelope
your dormant shoreline of solitude, bringing the beach’s tight-lipped mouth to
life with a crackling cackle.
It is not coincidental that the third track on “The Play” is
titled “Beautiful Disaster” and the third track on “Glass Slipper” is titled
“Beautiful.” Ditching the disaster aspect of “Beautiful Disaster” and its
dramatic underpinnings, and having gained enormous insight into what she wants
to receive from love in the decade and a half stretch that stands between the
two tracks, “Beautiful” raises the standards to which she holds love up to. In “Beautiful”, Driscoll documents her
discovery that she is worthy of a high calibre love. She realizes that she is
not willing to settle for anything less than an illustrious, evolving love that
hoists through the calendar’s turning pages, hand in hand. Driscoll wants an
unshakable bond not disturbed by a pendulum’s swing, and the changes it brings.
“When my mind is gone/And my memory fades/And I can barely speak your name/When
my legs are tired/And my hands won’t write/And my hair has all turned
grey/You’ll smile at me and say I can’t see one single wrinkle on your face/And
you’ll tell me I’m beautiful.” Musically, “Beautiful” features symmetrical acoustic
guitar jiving with spot rotations of piano flurries, and Driscoll’s voice
parleying and forecasting at its illustrative, suggestive climax. The composure
of her singing slant on her previous album “365 Days” gives way to a more
penetrating, immersed delivery throughout “Beautiful." The newfound vocal
intensity extends throughout Glass Slipper” in its entirety, which contributes to
the new album carrying itself in a bolder poise than Driscoll’s work has ever
before achieved.
On each Randi Driscoll album, we tend to get one slivered
love song for the ages; a song that hangs in the balance somewhere between the
feelings of being stifled and sought. On “Glass Slipper”, it’s the weathered,
but unflagging “Kiss Me (Like Never Before).” Her piano fizzes with the nerve of
unsettled soda water, with its bubbles of deficiency bobbing for outright domestication.
Even as her words appear encouraged by the budding moment of mouths melding in
the name of fondness, there are breaths of disenchantment exhaled. There is an
unresolved quality to Driscoll’s voice here, as if baggage came calling mid
kiss, demanding attention, disrupting the avid romance. “Kiss Me (Like Never Before)” follows
Driscoll’s tension between on one hand, wanting to trust her instincts about
love, and on the other hand, not wanting to be led astray by attraction’s hold.
“Surrender” adds deep voiced male accompaniment (in the form
of Aaron Parker) to the equation, as he duets with Driscoll over vapour-like
piano that sways like a slow dance. Parker’s voice presents itself with a
country twang in tow, and the song propels Driscoll a flight away from her
comfort zone. “Surrender” continues Driscoll’s quest throughout the album to
reclaim accountability for the wellbeing of her own heart. When she sings “I’ve
been crying these tears so long/My eyes won’t dry/Can barely breathe, can
barely hold on/Since we said goodbye/So, I’m going to drive all night/So I can
try to make this right”, she acknowledges that while another person does have
the power to pull her apart at the seams, she has it in her to lift herself
back up on her own, without needing to rely on someone else for healing. In “Surrender”, Driscoll claims ownership for
her own emotional prosperity, recognizing that she can initiate a late night
drive and enjoy her own company, to cope and find inner peace after a love
lapse. In “Surrender”, Driscoll discovers the vast influence she has on her own
state of mind, and how comforting such a revelation can be.
Musically, “The One That Got Away” is a brisker surge of backbone.
Supple strings nod like a yes-man, as if to consent approvingly to the personal
fortitude she has accumulated through being coached by reality. There is a
moment where Driscoll comes to terms with the idea that “Sometimes you’re the
one that gets left behind/Sometimes you’re the one that left.” She makes this proclamation
in a level headed, non judgmental way that shows a grown up lack of resentment towards
those that left her behind. “The One That Got Away” is her moment of awareness
that the sting of having been let go by past loves now feels more absorbable
and bearable, having lived through the experience of letting past loves of hers
go herself. It is if Driscoll recognizes here that doing the work to have an
amicable relationship with the unresolved shades of her past will be beneficial
to her forthcoming adventures. “The One That Got Away”, then, comes back to the
empowerment of self-love, as Driscoll realizes that having a healthy frame of
mind about past relationships will allow her to be able to devote more brain
space to her current relationship, which will allow for her life elevator to
climb to a new, previously padlocked floor of happiness.
“No Song” dials back the activity level musically to allow for
Driscoll to disclose a struggle with writer’s block after losing a loved one.
The song narrates how Driscoll felt like there was no tune she could write that
could adequately capture the spirit of her departed friend, and how much that
friend of hers meant to her. She felt like her writing just couldn’t live up to
the exquisiteness of her friend, but yet she kept trying to write a song in her
friend’s honour, because her lost loved one was worth the endless attempts and
piles of scrapped material.
Driscoll sings “No tune, no chorus good enough/No song good enough/This
time”, and even as her voice feels frayed, us listeners feel proud of her that
she persevered and found a way to productively channel her creativity into a touching
song that does manage to honour and exude the persona and heart of her friend that
passed. “No Song” is proof that turning to our creative voices in the thick of
hard events can help us bulk up our muscles of action, to help us find our way
back to the path of headway. As Driscoll learns with “No Song”, despite the
challenges she faced in getting back in the songwriting saddle after her loss,
it was her decision to keep at it during the backslide that allowed her to
eventually have a creative surge, and write a song that not only revered her
friend, but also helped take the pain and transform it into something much more
contributing and purposeful long term: the music of believing. “No Song” proves that Driscoll’s bout of
writer’s block was a setback, not a squashing of her faith. In “No Song”,
Driscoll perseveres and winds up creating high art with reach. With “No Song”, she
was able to connect with the being that needed to be reached the most: herself.
Beginning with a jangly, chiming guitar, and later
incorporating some soft-spoken but floral piano tinkering, “You’re My
Everything Will Be Ok” is a toasty blanket for the frigid nights where your
breath’s numbed shadow is visible in plain sight. Driscoll conforms her voice
to playfully mimic a frazzled brain saturated in soiled, fruitless gunk. Driscoll
attempts to unclog the overcrowded mind in question, by poking fun at how
littered, muddled her thoughts can get. She hopes to laugh the worriment right
out of her with her comedic imitation of the mayhem of her mental faculties.
Her strategy is a success, as “You’re My Everything Will Be Ok” excludes
anxiety from the guest list of her life festivities. It is evident how far
Driscoll has come, when she asserts “You’re my little cream in my coffee in the
morning time.” Arguably directed towards her husband, the line finds Driscoll
seeing her husband’s love as a cherry on top of an already sweet life, not a
prescribed crutch for her survival. Even as she tells her husband that “you’re
all that matters”, Driscoll reminds us that ultimately, “cream in (her) coffee”
(in this case, her relationship with her husband) is the support, not the
sustenance.
In “You’re My Everything Will Be Ok”, Driscoll diagnoses romantic love as a bonus perk that is made possible by being on side with her own lowdown, and having a strong rapport with her own scenes from living. This is substantive progress for a musician who sixteen years ago was soliciting for answers, inquisitively querying in her 2000 track “Tell Me”, in a huff, how to format love into its most operative shape, as if her livelihood depended on receiving an adequate response. “Tell me, is there something I can say?” she sang, wanting so badly to remodel her then-relationship like a house upgrade, to take her to her chosen destination. With “You’re My Everything Will Be Ok”, Driscoll comes full circle by remodelling her own life first to a place of self-affirmation and settlement, and then allowing an innately right relationship to tack onto her already heady tally of triumphs, and be the extra prop up for good measure air pump to her self-surmounted inflatable mattress.
In “You’re My Everything Will Be Ok”, Driscoll diagnoses romantic love as a bonus perk that is made possible by being on side with her own lowdown, and having a strong rapport with her own scenes from living. This is substantive progress for a musician who sixteen years ago was soliciting for answers, inquisitively querying in her 2000 track “Tell Me”, in a huff, how to format love into its most operative shape, as if her livelihood depended on receiving an adequate response. “Tell me, is there something I can say?” she sang, wanting so badly to remodel her then-relationship like a house upgrade, to take her to her chosen destination. With “You’re My Everything Will Be Ok”, Driscoll comes full circle by remodelling her own life first to a place of self-affirmation and settlement, and then allowing an innately right relationship to tack onto her already heady tally of triumphs, and be the extra prop up for good measure air pump to her self-surmounted inflatable mattress.
If much of “The Play”
is about feeling the snags of a desired but ultimately not right relationship in
real time, dragging your feet and all, and if “You’re My Everything Will Be Ok”
is the later moment when you realize that you have now found the right person
to share your life with, then “Better With You” is playing during the closing
credits. It is the daily rejoicing that happens after the happily ever after
scene. It is the giddiness that comes with sharing your life with the right
person. It is about when life’s next act measures up to the promise forecasted
by the happily ever after scene. “Better With You” is the payoff. It’s the
proceeds from all the self-improvements made, the tough blows faced, the
experiences gathered, and the impediments overcome. A large part of what
sweetens “Better With You” is that for Randi Driscoll, arriving at the
loftiness of love is such an earned feat. When you listen to “Better With You”,
you can hear how hard fought Driscoll’s newfound paradise was. You can feel all
that she had to go through to get here. In ‘”Better With You”, you can hear the
relief setting in and spreading, but you can also hear the rattle of past
checkpoints she had to silence, to reap the love she knew she deserved.
In her 2000 ballad “My Turn” (from “The Play”), Driscoll is
calling out to the universe, canvassing for a stroke of improved fortune in the
love department. “I’ve been waiting for my turn/I’ve been waiting for mine,”
she sang, with a downright heartbreaking yearning. She was pining for love’s real deal, then, a highly
relatable want. Sixteen years later, it is as if her prayers are finally being
answered with ‘Echo Coming Home”, when she harmonizes with Zach to provide a
first rate demonstration on the incentives of fullness; the tingling flush
involved in graduating from a solo lifestyle to a dazzling duo that dishes out
love daily to one another. In “Echo Coming Home”, Driscoll and Zach bind their
voices to each other snugly, like the long awaited supply of love finally being
shipped, long after placing the order. They sing to pronounce the glory of
lovers hearing each other and understanding each other soundly. “From a million
miles away/I hear what you’re saying/If the mountains don’t get in the way/I
hear what you’re playing/If I close my eyes tonight/Will you hear me
praying/Could you sing me to sleep in a dream/Is it real as it seems/Or is my
echo coming home.” “Echo Coming Home” is
a testament to that walkie talkie signal that doesn’t cut out due to
interference, or grow finicky due to static. It is a track that stands for when
the walkie talkie voice transmissions are not just detectable, but rather wholly
audible. “Echo Coming Home” is her turn that she was awaiting on “My Turn.”
“Echo Coming Home” is the song that reveals the worthwhileness of holding out
for when the constellation of connection is not just visible, but incandescent.
Finale “Maybe” broods with purpose. The mood is bent but not
broken. It seeks to achieve acceptance and thriving with connectivity’s
changing tide, rather than fight against the oft choppy shifts. It is so
touching when Driscoll acknowledges a past relationship’s lasting influence on
her, when she sings “Maybe we’re not over/We’re just breathing without each
other/Till we realize what we had and what we lost." By honouring the prior
relationship’s stronger points, and taking note of but not harping on its
weaknesses, she is allowing herself to be an open book, finally free from the
constraints of the unresolved. This
resolution also is beneficial to her current relationship, as it allows her to
give and receive love without holding back.
In “Maybe”, Driscoll offers us a generous summary of the overall message of “Glass Slipper": That
there will always be beginnings and endings, and comings and goings, but what
truly matters is the growth that our experiences spark in us. It is a huge epiphany generating moment when
Driscoll hopes that “Maybe when we’re finished, we’ll be better than we
started” as she is choosing to focus not on a relationship’s outcome, but on
the indelible mark that a relationship made. How fitting that after spending
much of “The Play” pining for the ideal relationship, Driscoll wraps up “Glass
Slipper” by learning how to have an abundant, substantial relationship with her
own self. And as for that epic romantic
love that she dreamed about on “The Play”, she obtains that too, by being with
someone who marvels at the mountain of self-love she has going for her, and
wants to add to it, because loving himself would amount to witnessing her
happiness. Sixteen years later, “The
Play” gets its happy ending, and “Glass Slipper” proclaims that Driscoll has
self-love to thank.
Friday 18 March 2016
2015 in Music: A Tour
2015 in Music: A Tour
a writing project by Nat Bourgon
I would like to honour the full length albums/EPs released in 2015 that inspired the heck out of me, by writing a blurb about each album.
25) Annabelle Chvostek- Be the Media
It's disheartening that Annabelle Chvostek is probably still best known for her contributions to The Wailing Jennys' breakthrough album "Firecracker" (2006) a decade ago. Since she departed The Wailing Jennys in 2007, Chvostek has released three solo albums, including 2015's severely underrated gem "Be The Media." Chvostek's "Be The Media" strays from the crisp, refined acoustic folk that usually rules her solo material. She swaps her acoustic guitar for an electric, wails instead of whispers, and emancipates her previously censored rock and roll virtuoso from deep within. Her songwriting sounds honed here, and her newfound sprawling, escalating stamina keeps her music budding. Lyrically, she is as poetic and eloquent as ever, graciously veering more on the side of the personal (where she thrives) after 2012's politically heavy LP "Rise." The title track "Be The Media" is flaming and suggestive. "This Night" is feel-good. "Black Hole" is sinister. Closer "Say It Right" is sentimental yet invigorated. You Can Come Now", the rare occasion on this collection where Chvostek returns to balladry, is her definitive career highlight to date (her work with The Wailing Jennys included). It was quietly released, but "Be The Media" is a fascinating work of art that is equally a departure as it is an exhibition of the goods that she's always been carrying.
Key Track: "You Can Come Now"
24) Guster- Evermotion
After a run of three incalculably esteemed records in the '90s and '00s that propelled Guster into favourite band status (1999's "Lost and Gone Forever", 2003's "Keep It Together" and 2006's "Ganging Up On the Sun" were an untouchable trio of progress), it was somewhat inevitable that 2010's "Easy Wonderful" would underwhelm a tad. Indeed, "Easy Wonderful" felt less like the work of the inventive, collaborative band I knew and loved, and more analogous to a Ryan Miller solo project, with a few throw-in, token contributions from his bandmates here and there. In my mind, when Guster wins, their success comes through utilizing a shared frontman dynamic between Ryan Miller and Adam Gardner, not only so far as vocals are concerned but also in terms of identity, presentation, and songwriting input. Also, Guster songs at their most prosperous sound simultaneously celebratory and inhibited. The best Guster tunes grapple with melancholia but manage to present grievances in a driving, appreciative-in-spite-of-it-all sort of way. "Easy Wonderful" pushed things a shake too too far in one direction, feeling a little triumphant and self-congratulatory. With that record, I kept waiting for the usually nippy draft to set in and provide some balance, but unfortunately it didn't. Thankfully, that essential tinge of dejection and longing that went missing in action on "Easy Wonderful" comes back in a big way with Guster's new record, 2015's "Evermotion". On standout 'It Is Just What It Is", Ryan Miller shares the microphone with Adam Gardner almost evenly throughout, proving how beneficial to the band's sound it is when Gardner's role exceeds that of a utility backup. "Expectation" is classic Guster, with its thoughtful lyrics about navigating adulthood, and its melodic roots accounted for. Yet, "Expectation" admirably pushes beyond the band's signature sound. It has that newbie sense of innocence that Guster always excels at, and feels reminiscent of the atmospheric production found on Guster's best album, "Lost and Gone Forever." But, it manages to push the group's sound forward by venturing closer to the sonics of electronic music than the guitar led indie-pop that the band made its name at. "Kid Dreams" is nostalgic but also feels fresh. On a lyrical level, it feels like a continuation of "Homecoming King" from Guster's 2003 LP "Keep It Together", although instrumentally "Kid Dreams" is much more exploratory, and risky. "Evermotion" is easily the best Guster record since "Ganging Up The Sun" came out almost a decade earlier, and it even rivals "Lost and Gone Forever" for the title of the band's towering achievement to date.
Key Track: "It Is Just What It Is"
23) Paula Cole- 7
Paula Cole returned to music making in 2007 following an eight year hiatus. Since deciding to make a comeback, she has now quietly released four albums in the last nine years. More crucial than the quantity of releases is that these new Cole albums are some of the best of her career. With the release of her new LP "7", Paula Cole continues to raise the quality bar. Her music has grown more emotional and expressive, and reaches a higher plane of truth here. There is an interesting tension throughout the album, as her piano narrates her fractures, but her voice carries a newfound tone of relaxation and acceptance, as if she is more secure and settled on an assured, trusting train of thought, grounded on her updated belief that she will find her way in life, converse to the pesky interference and obstructions. "New York City" conjures up a trope of lament and neglect. It is an ode to being passed by, and feeling washed up, and invisible. It expresses the ordeal of being estranged from the standing ovations that used to emerge as frequently as routine. "You Will Never Know' is a letter documenting what it feels like to have been thoroughly captivated by another, while dealing with the hassles of self disgruntlement. It examines the trickiness of being a part of a couple when you are grasping at the straws of unrealized potential as an individual. It is concerned with trying to figure out how to give ample love to a romantic mate that you adore, when you are struggling to find enough love to give to your own self. "Puncture Wound" is the best of the lot: it is a crash course in how to healthily deal with anguish, while focusing in on actualizing that determination to see everyday as a fresh opportunity to hope, create and evolve. The greatest strength of "7" is that how unabashedly intrinsic and real it is. There are no promises made here to bring back 1996 and the heyday of "I Don't Want To Wait", nor does Cole want to live in the past's pale, restrictive, enclosed ward. "These new songs excel because even as they are reflective and utilize comparisons to the past, they are willing to march onward and adapt. These are songs willing to fit into the present's pair of slippers, instead of fuss about being a different size than last time. "7" may be the most rewarding entourage of songs that Cole has written. Cole has always been a superb storyteller, but agreeably, now she is telling her own stories with more gusto and abandon than ever. In the process, "7" finds Paula Cole redefining the deepness of sincerity, and bottling the wet discomfort of self awareness's spit.
Key Track: "Puncture Wound"
22) Kathryn Calder- self titled
Ever since I heard the desolate icicle that was the Kathryn Calder penned Immaculate Machine palpitation "Statue" (off 2005's "Ones and Zeros"), I longed for more compositions in the same slivered vein from Kathryn. Ten years later, Calder has finally returned to the permafront-laden, disarmingly downcast conditions that spawned "Statue." "Beach" is topped with opaque spice, but is the most penetrable piece she has ever written. It is a song with a generous margin of space, setting the scene of a devoid beach. It carries the moody vibe of a blackout, stripping life down to its most essential, minimalist essence. In "Beach", there is no battery for the flashlight. There is just unadorned naturalness, without the artifice. Even "Take a Little Time", the grooviest thing on the release, leaves its head bobbing movements for a cushy seated position during parts of its final third. "Blue Skies" is a comforting shoulder to lean on during the tumble, propping us up a pinch thanks to the wool-like, softhearted flush of her voice. "Song in Cm" is like the idealistic counselor that actually listens with empathy, instead of spatting unhelpful words like a one-way road. "Song in Cm" brings to mind a counselor that then starts bawling in unison with us so we know there is understanding in play, not just placating at work: that we are in this together. This album establishes that Calder's gift is making music that listens to us when we need to spill. Let her album be your sounding board.
Key Track: "Beach"
21) Kris and Dee- A Great Long Game
Hearing Kris Abbott's guitar playing is like inhaling renewal. I feel exhilarated and free after listening to her guitar parts. Dee McNeil's spongy voice soaks up the guff inside your head, and helps you land back on even ground. Whether you need reassurance or a reality check, this album will set your mental capacities straight, and will be your heart's metronome. I spent the greater part of a day listening to "Trembling Aspen" on repeat, and that song was the elixir I needed to reacquaint myself with my bearings during a time when self-reinvention was necessary. "Pilot Light" is deep stuff, and Abbott's guitar solo offers some angularity, and backs up the grind of tough love being issued and received. "Cold Chisel" is that long awaited place where reality and dreams meet halfway. "A Great Long Game" is an album that asks the universe to be its pen pal, with self-betterment as the primary goal. It is a collection willing to intake and embrace the confusion of question marks, while determined to not call off the expedition for answers.
Key Track: "Pilot Light"
20) Evening Hymns- Quiet Energies
Earnestness and sensitivity are my favourite two trait in male vocalists. "House of Mirrors" is so open, so vulnerable. Sylvie Smith's harmonies add perfume to these songs. "Evil Forces" feels spiritual. It pushes me to run more determinedly, absolutely in my marathon of living. "Rescue Teams" is both troubled and attentive. These are songs that have no interest in caricatures, and photogenic editing. These are songs about not holding back, and displaying the concealed pockets of your being with pride.
Key Track: "House of Mirrors"
19) Great Northern- Tremors
I had been waiting for six years for this album to come out. It felt like twelve years. Great Northern's 2007 LP "Trading Twilight for Daylight" sure clicked with me. I used to play it day in and out during my summer job bus commute back in the summer of 2008. "Trading Twilight for Daylight" actually somehow made me look forward to the excessive travel time I endured. I also enjoyed 2009's full-length album, "Remind Me Where the Light Is." They've been talking about a third album for years, and it finally was released in 2015. The very fact of having new music from this band alone felt like a victory in and of itself. They departed from their label, and just worked away for years making the music that spoke to their impulses and inner taste. That the result of their labour is hands down the finest Great Northern album to date just makes this all feel even sweeter. Rachel Stotle's voice feels so triumphant and energized here. When her voice fills my ears' channels, I feel as though she is sharing some of her keen, animated vibes with me, and that they are translating into moments of activeness. Her voice helps me find the courage to take charge of my life and "adult" more often. The music on this album maintains the band's trademark for making melody sing, but the vision feels more interesting and developed this time. "Holes" tells us how to keep things heated and passionate in romance throughout longevity, as Stotle delivers her strongest vocal take ever. "Human" starts out as the quietest song on the record, but it evolves into something so much more pulsating and catchy. "Skin of Our Teeth" is downright thrilling. "Seasons" sounds motivating and rallying, as it glorifies sticking together as a supportive tandem, during those times when you feel stuck. This is a champion return for one of indie rock's most devastatingly underrated bands.
Key Track: "Human"
18) Damon and Naomi- Fortune
"Fortune" serves as the soundtrack for Naomi Yang's film, but more importantly, it is Damon and Naomi's first full length album since their 2011 career highlight "False Beats and True Hearts." With Naomi focusing her creative energy on the film itself, Damon takes control of the album, as it is his still boyish voice for once that takes the lead the most often here (usually Naomi leads the way when it comes to vocals). Damon's vocals have always been more poker-faced than Naomi's all-consuming delivery, so Damon's voice is certainly the right fit for the unhurried, low-pressure songs of this release. "Fortune" is the most acoustic sounding Damon and Naomi album since 2000's "With Ghost", which allows the duo's voices to be more up front. When Damon and Naomi align their voices in that mesmerizing, singular harmony, as on standout "Sky Memories", I am reminded of the beauty of each passing millisecond, engulfing life's quieter, celibate moments. While listening to "Sky Memories", time seems to slow down enough to appreciate the finer details. Damon and Naomi's music is about feeling, and this is one of the most feeling inspired records of their career to date.
Key Track: "Sky Memories"
17) Kathryn Williams- Hypoxia
There is an apocalyptic sense of doom and dread that creeps through "Hypoxia", which is appropriate considering the album was inspired by Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar." Williams employs a much more intentionally brash and choppy sound throughout this album than in her past work, and this has an unnerving affect on the songs, leaving the listener with the unmistakable vibe that something is amiss. Tension is the name of the game throughout "Hypoxia". Williams' voice, which usually comes across as direct and trustworthy, carries a newfound mysterious, deceiving tone, as though she is storytelling and improvising more than emoting and reflecting. She voice sounds weathered by misplaced trust and disappointment. There is a frantic sigh communicated again and again, as if to warn us of being conned by ourselves and others around. Her songwriting feels in line with her previous explorations, but on this record, it feels as though she then went and dipped her compositions in abrasive, rowdy coating. "Mirrors" feels cross and cluttered, and "Cuckoo" feels heavier and more austere than most theatrical productions. It is when Williams' embraces her more hospitable sounding vocal enunciation, and when she focuses on the pastoral breath of her acoustic guitar, that she really shines. The undisturbed, patient character study "Electric" that begins the record, and the grievous, touching tribute "When Nothing Meant Less both perfect the starry-eyed, minimal wonder that Kathryn Williams has been clarifying since her stunning 1999 debut LP "Dog Leap Stairs."
Key Track: "When Nothing Meant Less"
16) Cynthia G. Mason- Cinematic Turn (EP)
It's funny how this new collection from Cynthia G. Mason succeeds by de-emphasizing the element that I once considered was Mason's greatest gift as a singer/songwriter. When listening to her 2000 self-titled debut, I prized the melancholic ambiance that Mason's songs and voice mustered. Surprisingly, my most favourite of the new songs that comprise her latest EP "Cinematic Turn" is the tune that evokes the most dash. "18th Street" is indeed more driving and upbeat musically than most of Mason's catalog, with her guitar sounding enterprising and intrepid. As for her voice, while I wouldn't go as far as saying her delivery sounds downright chipper here, there is more wit and evenness, and less weep and depression in "18th Street" than in any other Mason penned song in her fifteen year plus career. Even in "One More Trip Back East", which is a much more solemn offering, she sounds down, but not out. This more levelheaded approach to singing that shows up throughout "Cinematic Turn" allows Mason's songs to wear cozier sweaters to cope with the cold endured. Case in point: The melancholia that I used to adore about Mason's music is still around, only this time it's been toned down, sharing hours with the spring solstice. Another change for the better: On her previous LP, 2007's "Quitter's Claim", Mason's voice sounded filtrated through the pudgy slime of a subterranean vent, never landing quite as audibly and ample as I would have hoped. This time, her vocals are presented much more decidedly and distinctly, and this pushes these songs a notch ahead of her past glories.
Key Track: "18th Street"
15) Megan Hamilton- Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings
In an era where singles and hype are all the rage, Megan Hamilton comes through with so much more than a pile of new songs. This is the ultimate definition of an album, and at that, one that plays supremely better as a whole. Historically, Hamilton has utilized storytelling predominantly, augmented by a personal bend. But here, her songwriting output comes from a more autobiographical perspective, which adds undertone and intensity to her songs. Waves of her folk ancestry brush up against the shoreline now and then, but she elects to incorporate a few more hooks on this particular swim. Hamilton utilizes some pop instincts here, and the result is the most sonically riveting, and lyrically atypical record of her career so far. And just because it sounds best as a whole, we should not discount the standalone strength of individual tracks on this record. "The Violins" is a dreamy number with Hamilton delivering lead vocals that are teary eyed and tightened, yet also shimmering and consolable. Her lyrics here are as poetic as ever, and inspired my own writing heavily throughout the year. The drizzling piano sound that recurs provides musical profundity. The self-diagnostic, heartfelt "Late Bloomer" emphasizes how good Hamilton is at convincing the guitar to surprise and invent. If Hamilton was previously viewed as an underrated guitarist, a listen to "Late Bloomer" should travel far in altering this perception. This is hypnotizing, boundary pushing music that thrives at accentuating the rituals and character of expression.
Key Track: "The Violins"
14) Low- Ones and Sixes
Let's get this out of the way: This is a much more grubbier, and rumpled affair than 2013's prettier "The Invisible Way", which was a career high point of theirs. Low albums tend to favour either elegance and beatific binds, or chapped, marred existence. On "The Invisible Way", Mimi Parker sang lead vocals on five songs, and the overall tone was more about embracing love's rainbow, rather than dwelling on disparaging defeat. Now, with "Ones and Sixes", the mood is much more gnarled and the lyrics focus more insistently on frazzled faith. Optimism counts are low here. But the songwriting remains solid, the band's motivation to explore shifts in sound picks up, and this is a very consistent record. "Ones and Sixes" is not as affecting an album as 'The Invisible Way", but it is still an important and essential Low album with diversity in sound and inclination. Mimi Parker's presence is reduced from her above-average level of contribution to "The Invisible Way." Parker's few lead vocals here, including the snug, amicably lifting "Congregation" and the advisory, deep-seated "The Innocents" relieve some of the scour from Sparhawk's duress-led turns fronting the band. Sparkhawk isn't without his moments too. His contribution "Lies" is a top five Low song because of how forthcoming it is toward his personal life. It examines the state of the ever-evolving marriage between Alan and Mimi in a clear cut, middleman-free expressway that gets to the bottom of it, without being overtly soapy or unfairly confrontational. The song's middle puts Sparhawk's voice on sabbatical for a time, and Parker belts out some enlightened, perceptive insight with an unprecedented feral mettle, like a position of authority's crackdown of enforcement. "Spanish Translation" demonstrates that Low can be messy and intimate at once; that these traits don't have to interfere with each other. Low are certainly at their best when they don't refuse to settle for choosing between bloom and adventure. The best moments of "Ones and Sixes" prove that this is a band that can have both, without compromise, when they choose to put in the grunt work necessary to achieve that balancing act.
Key Track: "Lies"
13) Destroyer- Poison Season
When Destroyer fever swept through the scene like a flashy fad of the year back in early 2011, I was baffled. I mean, Daniel Bejar had been making his peculiar, gleefully inaccessible, musically nervy albums for years. Why did people choose "Kaputt" as their point of entrance into the Destroyer fan club? A few years of reflection later, I have stumbled upon some semblance of understanding on this long-puzzling matter. "Kaputt" retained the fitting jabs at one dimensional lifestyles that Dan Bejar playfully mocks on every project he attaches his name to, alongside his marked freckle of prankster-like tomfoolery, but it is a much more serious album than all cousins and siblings in his discography. "Kaputt" largely abandoned the goofy, lighthearted vocal intonations that Bejar excels at. If "Kaputt' was his attempt to shirk his banter and ridiculous persona, to see what lay underneath, his latest album "Poison Season" manages to acknowledge the sophistication and melodic advances of "Kaputt" while reintroducing his audience to his archetypal madman-like, overstimulated demeanor. "Bangkok" is a metaphor for this record's award worthy intermingling of sorrow and sass. It starts out sounding like a once-hippie having a pint of nostalgia about his glory days. Candor reigns supreme, and for a time, "Bangkok" feels like a continuation of Kaputt's reserved stance. But then, towards the end of the song, it is as if the hippie decided that he's still got it, and that life is too short to be recounting when he could be out there living it up right now, having the night of his life out on the town. He gets animated and barbaric again, like a man brought back from the pits of an intended swan song. He speaks in the tongue of a riddle. "Bring out your dead/Bring out the light/Bring out your dark/Birds in flight/Bring out your red roses too/Hey, what's got into Sunny" (Destroyer- Bangkok). He sounds reinvigorated and impassioned with his songs, music, and even life itself on "Poison Season", and the record's ability to merge a jubilant spirit with blighted, scorned lyric, set to an outstretched sonic domain, allows "Poison Season" to impress and intrigue in equal measure. He's back!
Key Track: "Bangkok"
12) Michael Feuerstack- The Forgettable Truth
There is much fuss made about the aging of musicians. More specifically, there is enormous chatter about how aging affects both songwriting and singing. Many seem to subscribe to the idea that the voices of musicians they love start to deteriorate at a certain point: that time ultimately has its way. Many human beings also postulate that the music that their favourite bands made in their youth was punchier and surging with more momentum than the tunes that the same groups make later on, approaching or into mid age. Along comes Michael Feuerstack to buck the trend. At age 42, Feuerstack has made the record of his life. His voice has deepened, pushing his vocals into a territory where maturity and heartthrob sensory meet halfway. Listeners will swoon at how his delivery shifts from rugged to sensual in seamless fashion. They will marvel at the way Feuerstack's art reworks the meaning of macho, to include the discernment and sharing of feelings. His music sounds more avant-garde here than on prior releases. After two decades of writing and recording, he has a greater sense of insight into his strengths and limitations at this point, so he is freer to experiment and jerk the soundscape at his own inclination. He boldly changes up some of his signature moves, while also coming full circle by completing and actualizing musical and lyrical quests that he has spent years building toward. He allows himself to admirably smirk at his bristol board of experiences now and then. He is more on target with his musical DNA throughout the album, now fully embracing his customized style of befriending wit and deliberation without any lingering awkwardness. He pulls this off without ever coming across as self-righteous or egotistic. He is a man of modesty, and thrives off his homey, underrated attitude. His music has accumulated an extra helping of insight and wisdom since his days fronting his former band Snailhouse. "Glacier Love" initially plays as a fluid and stable river with its smooth, linear foams of guitar, but further listens reveal a certain inscrutable, sphinx-like state of commotion. Veiled dimness leaks underneath the pleasant interior of Feuerstack's songs. He sounds vehement and desperate throughout "The Forgettable Truth": Vehement from having the strength and lessons of twenty plus years in music to pull from, and yet as desperate and pleading to make art as affecting and important as the first timer just starting out a career. Anyone not convinced that age is just a number as far as musicians are concerned really needs to hear this record. I liked his past work, but on "The Forgettable Truth", Feuerstack puts it all together and delivers his magnum opus. This is work worth loving. This is work that is lovable.
Key Track: "Glacier Love"
11) Dave Rawlings Machine- Nashville Obsolete
I used to look down on simplicity. I held the firm opinion that as far as music was concerned, effortless was at odds with quality. The easier on the ears, and the more basic a song sounded, the more I would shun that song. I didn't adopt this mindset because I was obsessive compulsive with achieving some kind of hipster, indie cred. Rather, I was impressed by creativity at its peak, by shifts, and by departures from the niches that beloved artists carve out. I was so adamant for so long that success in music was bound up with complexity. I credit "Nashville Obsolete", the new Dave Rawlings Machine album, with convincing me that an artist doesn't have to be an experimental daredevil to make extraordinary music. "The Weekend" feels timeless. It has no interest in studio gags and production gimmicks. It is almost entirely built upon voice and guitar. This song is focused. The playing is tight. The harmonies are spot on, and the voices (of Rawlings and partner Gillian Welch) are so intertwined. "Short Haired Woman Blues" is pulled off because Rawlings is one of the most talented guitarists on the planet. It's got a secretive, jittery quality to it instrumentally, thanks to Rawlings' decision to abandoning melody abruptly. Somehow it doesn't sound too finicky. The dissonance never usurps the pleasurable sense of belonging that Rawlings' songs instill in the listener. Rawling's voice plays like that of a father figure utilizing his protective instincts, ensuring your safety and security no matter what. It's a comforting feeling, hearing his altruistic sounding, nurturing voice advise you against falling for the short-term rewards of a quick fix. Rawlings encourages you to hold out for something substantial in the relationship realm. "The Trip" positions Rawlings as an wordsmith to revere. He maximizes the impact of the English language at its most straightforward. A mid-song guitar solo in an eleven minute long song would ordinarily scream over-indulgence, but here it is a welcomed surprise. When Gillian Welch joins in on the song's chorus, the beauty here is beyond compare. "Nashville Obsolete" is an elite reminder of the charms of being flash-free. It is an ode to the feel-good vibes that can only come when zeroing in on real, face-to-face communication. "Nashville Obsolete" rolls its eyes at technology's imprint of rush and impatience in modern society, and then lines up for a reservation- free dinner with some old friends. This album is like a night of good old fashioned conversation in a room, where cellphones are left at home. Laughing in a room with people you love is what it's all about, and "Nashville Obsolete" reminds us of this. It also pronounces that the craft of writing great songs never gets old, especially songs inspired more by the tradition of truth than tricks.
Key Track: "The Trip"
10) Heather Nova- The Way it Feels
"The Way it Feels" resonates because of the resistance it puts up towards finality. Written during the final act of her marriage, "The Way it Feels" finds Nova clinging to the possibility of an uptick, and refuses to completely give up on her regressing relationship. Even as the reasons to remain upbeat continue to diminish, and even as mourning fills her mornings, she sings like her fate has yet not been sealed, like there is still a verdict to be made. "The Way it Feels" makes the lowest odds still feel salvageable. Nova has this gift of communicating the possibility of light, and betting on optimism's leadership, even when the sun seems to be setting. Whether through her no frills, tell-it-like-it-is lyricism that never beats around the bush, or her visually depicting, brimful easel of sonic brio, Heather Nova's songs manage to prize the unsymmetrical times of life, long enough to snatch something meaningful that hits home. Her music and words playfully splash in a puddle of dampened dreams. Her work positions the dumps as a long term funk, rather than a surrender, and "The Way it Feels" shows us how to compartmentalize life through a hopeful, seeking filter. "The Way it Feels" is Heather Nova's strongest set of songs since her 1998 treasure "Siren". Fitted in production choices that land her in the most seemly compromise imaginable between her indie-like, DIY vision and her big league talents, and containing some of the most memorable storytelling and personal postscripts I've heard this year, Heather Nova's "The Way it Feels" is an applause garnering tour guide of feeling itself. The encore rewards here are eternal.
Key Track: "This Humanness"
9) Belle and Sebastian- Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance
Having multiple songwriters in the same band allows for added opportunity for that band to have a more assorted, wider ranging identity. It is so much more interesting to me when a band's identity gets to be extended beyond the vision of their leader. Naturally then, it is a shame to me that when the band Belle and Sebastian is name dropped, peoples' thoughts land unequivocally on frontman Stuart Murdoch. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance", the new Belle and Sebastian record, is a full throttle indicator of how much this band deserves to be viewed as a legitimate group that benefits maximally from its cumulative array of talent, rather than merely just a medium for Stuart Murdoch's music making. Sarah Martin has playing violin in Belle and Sebastian since 1996, and contributing her own original material to the group since 2000. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" places Martin in a primary role, as she sings lead on album highlights "The Power Of Three" (a dreamy, theatrical pop song with brazen, charged lyrics) and "The Book Of You" (a rowdy, agile tune with a catchy chorus, and a roaring charm). Sarah Martin's voice is also well suited to harmonizing with Stuart Murdoch, as evident by the romanticized thrill ride known as "The Everlasting Muse." "Enter Sylvia Plath" makes me want to put on some blue suede shoes, and hit the dance floor for days, and once again here, Sarah Martin receives a moment to shine, delivering a mesmerizing vocal solo halfway through that alters the landscape of the entire song. Stuart Murdoch's opener "Nobody's Empire" is billed as the most personal song he has ever written. It is at once the quintessential, classic Belle and Sebastian song, yet also moves the group's sound forward by possessing hints of show tune pizzazz, incorporating gospel-like backing vocals at times, and experimenting with a much greater use of the piano than most songs in the band's discography can attest to. "Ever Had a Little Faith?" is the idealistic metaphor for how Belle and Sebastian is at is best when Jackson, and Martin share the glory with Murdoch. My favourite moment in the track is when Stevie Jackson and Stuart Murdoch combine their voices, pooling their expertise together to create something miraculous. It's one of the few times in a twenty year career where both Jackson and Murdoch sing together during the same part. The moment feels reminiscent of male bonding at its finest: of two men who have experienced endless touring and recording alongside one another, yet seem to be the opposite of sick of one another. As if that isn't enough, in swoops the voice of Sarah Martin during the song's final quarter, softening Murdoch's sorrow with her waves of femininity, and her zen-like sensuality. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" thrives because of it's ability to adequately capture the hefty talents of Stuart Murdoch's cohorts. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" makes it clear that if Stuart Murdoch is "Sebastian" in Belle and Sebastian, Sarah Martin and Stevie Jackson have now finally earned their claim to being "Belle".
Key Track: "Ever Had a Little Faith?
8) Johanna Warren- numun
Listening to numun, I am now able to distinguish between having proficiency with an instrument, and being in command of an instrument. Johanna Warren has complete, utter command of her guitar. Throughout this record, she demands her guitar to re-enact the jolts and jumps of her most innate brain activity, and her guitar obliges resoundingly. Warren's guitar playing bravely takes the listener on an extended hike through her mind's realities. Her guitar navigates the choppiest and messiest junctures of life; this is no quest to soften the blow. Warren possesses the intuition and gentleness of a non traditional healer. She taps into the vibes of well-being through spiritual rituals and the forces of the natural world. Warren's words are often swollen with the ripple effect of peacemaking with your most non-ideal, hard to swallow realizations. It is so challenging to acknowledge your areas that require improvement, yet acknowledging your imperfections allows for growth. Warren recognizes that sometimes you need to feel what you're feeling, before you can begin to feel better. "No more trying/Let's sit and stare/at the indescribable deep despair" (Johanna Warren- Found I Lost). The encouraging slant of her guitar work allows her music to feel rejuvenating and refreshing, more so than cold and self-effacing. It is more normal than not for singers to impose a theatrical presence on their vocalizations. It is a typical move for singers to emphasize the emotions they are trying to convey to an emphatic, drawn-out degree, like actors trying to inspire a certain type of reaction to the character they are portraying. But when Johanna Warren sings, there is no overdosing on emotional stakes. There is no intentional presentation to provoke a certain mindset in her listeners. Warren doesn't sing and play like she means it. She just sings and plays, and we know it's real: no convincing required.
Key Track: "Found I Lost"
7) Corrina Repp- The Pattern of Electricity
In 2001, Corrina Repp gave us a heartbreaking record called "I Take On Your Days", which documented stomped on hearts, the outs of endings, and letdowns leading the pack. After following "I Take On Your Days" with a pair of more outward looking, less personal solo records, and a stint in the band Tu Fawning, Repp finally returns to providing play by play commentary of her heart's quest for transcendence and unbreakable compatibility. Her new solo record 'The Pattern of Electricity" is full of the type of intimate self portraits of sound and musings on domestication's undoing that made her 2001 LP such a prized possession. Repp's new album is also a guide of sorts to what she wants out of love's second take. Written and recorded following a breakup, "The Pattern of Electricity" finds Repp yelping more than sighing, and creating a more full-blown eruption of sound from the foundations of her minimalist sonic sketches. If her 2001 album "I Take On Your Days" is the sound of love being negated with a subtle slip, and the mournful, laborious gasp that results, her 2015 record "The Pattern of Electricity" takes a more fiery, rebellious approach to coping with a flameout. Lyrically, throughout "The Pattern of Electricity", Repp refuses to make one-sided accusations. She does not pass the blame like a hot potato. While "I Take On Your Days" is about ruminating on what went wrong, "The Pattern of Electricity" is more invested in course correction, and learning from the disappointments encountered in her now defunct relationship. "The Pattern of Electricity" is a compromise between the panic of insufficiency, and the serenity of morning glory, before the guttural cracks awaken. Every so often, Repp transfixes us with a cameo of that low, whispery tone of voice that is as humane and settling, as it is extra-terrestrial and confounding. Closer "In the Dark, You're More Colorful" opens with a deliberating guitar, and Repp's voice floating lightly, gracefully. The electric guitar starts sweating, as her voice grows grows more provoked and ruffled. The tidy beginning morphs into a rude awakening, like being pulled out of a snug sleep into the untamed, unsafe ruins of living. Repp's craftsmanship lies in somehow making a rude awakening feel like a wake up call. Repp tears down hope, only to then acknowledge the benefits of starting anew, and building from the ground up. Thankfully, her new creative concoctions remember and celebrate the blueprints of yore. Repp reminds us throughout "The Pattern of Electricity that a clean slate doesn't have to always mean a clean break.
Key Track: "In the Dark, You're More Colorful"
6) Rachel Garlin- Wink at July
Rachel Garlin rummages through the recycling bin of life's small scale, reserved moments, and collects their charms, re-acquainting us with their worth. "Accordion Song" is musically lifting and enlightened, which is the last thing one would expect a eulogy to be. There is a magic-like quality to Garlin's voice. She does not sound indebted to her circumstance, even as she is forced to come to terms with the passing of her father. It is this lack of bitterness, and ability to look at each situation and see a way to overcome and thrive, instead of look back and contempt, which makes Garlin such a luminary. There is a determination to find a reason to celebrate and take stock of the prosperity of living, even as she is singing about the loss of her father. "The Sea You See" uses personification to superb effect. "If the island wears a hat that's made of fog" (Rachel Garlin- The Sea You See). The song is more wishful than wistful, even as it is driven by a frugal, introverted acoustic guitar line. "Stranded" sidelines her faithful guitar, in favour of piano. The tune turns to Garlin's former role as a school teacher to showcase the delicate dichotomy between wanting to help others learn and grow on one end, and the pursuit of one's own passion and dreams on the other. In Garlin's case, she realized that for all the advantages of shaping young minds and filling them with enthusiasm about discovering who they were, she needed to honour her own passion to pursue her singer/songwriting career with more oomph to fully become who she wanted to be. "So we dug a hole and/From underneath we were aware of all these engines running/We could not/We could not hear a sound" (Rachel Garlin- Stranded). "Wink at July" plays with a cordial nonchalance and coolness. Garlin's sounds and poetry are fluent at conveying gratitude and appreciation for the little things. Garlin's greatest asset is her ability to utilize tone and timbre of both instrumentation and voice to unleash pockets of emotive connotations that are in all of us, but we have never before quite understood. "Wink at July" is about understanding. It's about transitioning all the drama in our head into a more manageable forum, where we can actually make sense of it. Garlin treats the minor with a major importance, and helps us see the beauty of the less buoyant.
Key Track: "Accordion Song"
5) Amy Blasckhe- Opaline
Blaschke's music used have a pensive scramble running through it. Her 2003 self-titled album was the document of a 24 year old, soul searching her way through adulthood's opening frame, sorting through lofty decisions and earnestly conversing with herself about her chosen path. Now, with "Opaline", Blashke's new album, gone is the speculative abstraction and uncertainty. In its place is a newfound tenacity and poise that rustles through Blaschke's songs and lyrical expressions. After singing much of the material on 2013's "Desert Varnish" in a throatier, low pluck, the title track "Opaline" marks a return to Blaschke's most revered style of vocalizing: the high pitched, airy, philanthropic coo that sounds like it was birthed by angels. A shadowy, supernatural vibe hangs over the track, as if to capture the ongoing battle between dealing with the ghosts of the past, and seizing an open book ideal of the future. Her acoustic guitar is insulated here, feeling more toasty than benumbed. "Through to Blue" is a chirpy tale of empowerment and grit. Led by a savvy melodic dong, and a keen, heady sense of aplomb, this is Blaschke recognizing that what fairy tales depict as true love isn't actually what she wants. Love is in reality a messy, adulterated proposition, but this is Blaschke's acknowledgement that she values truth and the real with all its warts more than any representation or caricature of perfection. She sings "Fall through to blue with you", thus supporting the idea that true love, if built on allowing one another to see the full picture, can withstand even sickly terrain (Amy Blaschke- Through to Blue). "Walking with the Rise" is a memo about the importance of learning to rely first and foremost on your own self as your biggest supporter. The song is about self-autonomy, and how we have to be the loudest difference maker in the texture and shape of our own lives. "Walking with the Rise" indicates that waiting around for a guiding light in the form of a savior or partner is a mistake: that we would be missing out on realizing our true potential that way. For Blaschke, "Walking with the Rise" is about following your own vision thoroughly, allowing you to move that much closer to being your best self. With her "Opaline" LP, Blaschke reaches a place of embracing her inner pigmentation. This is the sound of a woman moving beyond the figuring and into the plane of complete and utter self-approval."Opaline" bids farewell to the reproachful stricture of youth, and now fully abides by the conditioning of her idiosyncratic grooves. "If I find some love of mine is leaving me behind/You can bet I'm kicking dust/walking with the rise" (Amy Blaschke- Walking with the Rise). "Opaline" is more than being on your own terms, it's loving those terms because they are yours.
Key Track: "Opaline"
4) Kodiak Deathbeds- self-titled
In 2007, Amber Webber (Black Mountain) set her quivering, gemstone-like voice to slanted acoustic guitar, to formulate thorny folk songs infused with a twist of indie spirit. This was under the moniker of Lightning Dust, also featuring fellow Black Mountain bandmate Joshua Wells. In Black Mountain, Webber's voice serves as the friendlier counterpart to Stephen McBean's grumpier, stingy vocal disposition. McBean usually takes the lead, and Webber's vocal presence tends to feel spotty and distant. Lightning Dust's 2007 self titled album found Webber thriving in a more up front and centre role. Her vocal chops alone command silence, and draw out our full attention spans, long tucked into hibernation. Eight years on from that 2007 Lightning Dust self-titled collection, and after sophomore and tertiary efforts that incorporated fuller, space-rock textures (2009's "Infinite Light") and an electronic bent (2013's "Fantasy"), finally, Webber reinstates her penchant for making tiptoe paced, understated bedroom folk music with the release of her new record, the self-titled effort from her latest musical incarnation Kodiak Deathbeds (alongside Derek Fudesco). "Cross That Line" is a song for lounging to, after surviving the demands of business hours. The rush of the work week falls away, and we are left with the ensuring, breathy voice of Amber Webber, soaring through the skies of searching. Her voice feels heightened, as though every second has a value of at least double its length. "I've been told I've been living too slow/Through the perspective of you" (Kodiak Deathbeds- Cross That Line). "Cross That Line" exemplifies the thorough presence of the moment's free cupboard space. Listening to this song grounds you in the present tense, and helps you feel the full offerings of all that this moment right now has on tap for us. "Cross That Line" eliminates all the obtrusive garbage clogging up valuable brainspace, and positions us squarely in the truth and luxury of the here and now. Keeping with its insistence on sporting an overcoat of mindfulness, "Cross That Line" finds Webber toning down her usual shriek to lower decibel levels, and delivering her vocals in a much more hushed manner. She sings with the residue of a single teardrop; the emotional wound no longer qualifies as fresh but still informs her shivering side effects, still wrecking havoc on a part time basis. "Gemini" throws us a ravaged blanket designed to help us dry off, after our run in with the dew of deprivation. However, this blanket is unpleasantly drizzled by the sprinkler's reach, so it doesn't quite provide us with the fuzzy feeling of a hug that we craved. This absence keeps love within striking distance, but still at bay. The song is the weather's equivalency of October evenings, where winter foreshadows its bite, but the sun still acts as your personal body guard, refusing to turn you over to the custody of below zero and its pummeling kick. Favourite "Saturday Night" is a swampy, dissonant trek through wild impulse itself. After following the marked route for a time, when faced with a fork in the road later on, "Saturday Night" elects for the unexpected turn, and strays from the path of least resistance. The electric guitar becomes tipsy, woozy from the shocking turn, as it encounters prickly thorns and foot-stubbing branches in its off-the-beaten-path jaunt. Webber's fearless decision to overturn security in favour of adventure's uncertainty gives "Saturday Night" roughed-up, scruffy facial hair. Weber accelerates from the secret telling, and muted volume present on much of the album at moments in "Saturday Night", as the angst starts overflowing, and she can no longer exist on standby mode. Webber knows it can no longer simmer on low. "Saturday Night" is the sound of the bubble about to burst. "Borderline" sways like the middle ground between a slow dance and the blare of an alarm that presses you into action.The acoustic guitar has a rhythmic snap to it, adding a percussive like dimension to the otherwise bare bones sonic recipe. Webber sounds lighter vocally, as though she is contemplating loosening up and having a stint of fun. Kodiak Deathbeds resets Amber Webber's compass of creativity, after a near decade of surprises. It is a return to Webber's humble entrance point. Kodiak Deathbeds allows her one-of-a-kind, wavy voice the opportunity to star, and her goth, minimalist inclinations a chance to become formed and mastered. Webber will surely go on to try on more expatriated musical hats in her career, but it will always be this type of spiked acoustic folk (as explored here in Kodiak Deathbeds) where I find her music is at its most delectable.
Key Track: "Saturday Night"
3) Michelle McAdorey- Into Her Future
Michelle McAdorey's voice sounds lived in; the byproduct of experiential accumulation of sustenance's repetoire. It is non negotiable how far from fictional her narratives stand: It is clear that these are not extrapolated feelings, or a secondary source of swelling, but rather feelings that emanate right from her own gut's dusty storage room. McAdorey has this way of making flab turbulence feel less daunting, and more manageable, with her steadiness and solidified foundation. Title track "Into Her Future" examines the path ahead for McAdorey. She doesn't try to bargain with time, or turn to implants as a coping mechanism. There is no anti-aging, barb-filled commentary about resisting what is coming her way. Rather, "Into Her Future" is about accepting the changing tide, and learning to not just tread water, but to hone the craft of the swimming strokes in order to exceed coping status. This is music about thriving, and enjoying the process. She brands love as the leader in her life, and puts her faith in connectivity with others. In doing so, she comes to the understanding that life is about loving, and that we are here to love, so she might as well spend her time loving completely and utterly, instead of lamenting the shortfalls and disappointing parts. "Run Into Me Now' is an autoharp fronted number, concerned with the intricacies of reconnecting with a soulmate from your past. It manages to be forward-looking: "Run Into Me Now" is not content to just recollect the butterflies of decades past, and replay the squashed opportunities that such a big love offered. Instead, the tune purposefully focuses on reinventing the relationship to shape it to be compatible with the present tense. It reconfigures the relationship to make it viable with who she and her past beau are now, and draws on the past only to ensure she and her beloved don't make the same mistakes this time around. It takes a special song to be able to be focused on building a future of closeness and trust and depth, while allowing us to be invested in the outcome by depicting a steamy, heartfelt history. "Run Into Me Now" fulfills our romantic and realistic sides at once. "Culvert Jack" finds McAdorey combating against the ease for us to be derailed by pockets of darkness, even during daylight's bright, clear skies. She sings the words "On the shady side of the noon day sun" with a sense of rebellious flare, as if she determined to fight against the expectation of taking steps back to take a single step forward (Michelle McAdorey- Culvert Jack). The song alternates back and forth between throwing a raspy fit, and following though on a recharging detox, lending it variety and character. "Two Tickets" is a countrified, tearful parting from sorrow's clutches. It first strikes you as weepy, and regretful, but as the song goes on, it becomes clear that there are happy tears streaming down: That this is more about welcoming in a new era, and nurturing that era, than bemoaning the expiry date of the outdated field of bygones. "Got two tickets for a bright time/I'm leaving tomorrow/For beginningless time" (Michelle McAdorey- Two Tickets). "Line Across My Heart" is a visionary primer for how to make love last and prevail over the long haul. Coated with a transfixing glaze that is stamped to inner beauty's linear notes, "Line Across My Heart" is full of a yearning itch for commitment that is not second guessed or deteriorated by diverging routes or growth's abominable hiccups. This song is a proponent of speaking up and sharing what's on your mind, constantly providing attention to your partner, and communicating openly in the special language that you and your partner create together. "Line Across My Heart" says that loving harder, and always expressing wholeheartedly how much our partner means to us without holding back are the keys to love's duration. This song simplifies and demystifies love, for those who are confused and misled by all the unfit depictions of love that our society ingrains in us. "Line across my heart/Drawn to straight to your/Wasn't always/Wasn't always/Trembling." (Michelle McAdorey- Line Across My Heart). McAdorey has such a gift of encircling the past's hangovers with the future's promise. Only McAdorey is able to sit the past and the future down to a dinner table together, after estrangement's hardships, and obtain their amicability, not through rehashing what was, but through forging a new start that puts the spotlight on the sparkle of the days and memories to come. Only McAdorey convinces us that we have not yet peaked; that there are plateaus yet to come. Michelle McAdorey's new record "Into Her Future" is the brainchild of love at its most successful. It is a driven and formidable, yet fully achievable and direct guide to building love at its most fluent and functional. McAdorey's "Into Her Future" is a portal to loving and being loved in a way where permanence becomes a tenured faculty member.
Key Track: "Run Into Me Now"
2) Heather Woods Broderick- Glider
Heather Woods Broderick excels at creating unruly astonishment. She conveys what it feels like to be lost in life's bewildering corridors, yet genuinely surprised to be aloof from the solution. This is the sound of direction losing its hold. Broderick's new LP "Glider" is about any perceived notion of found footing winding up as a misnomer. Her music sounds like the process of trying to make sense of the nonsensical. Her songs feel itinerary-free, and stray from the conformity of goal-oriented thinking. Her music reflects the disconcerting decay of disorientation, from the initial onset of abated warning signs, to the perils of being confined to no man's land indefinitely. Her songs themselves are inconsonant and chancy, and thankfully carry the underdone callowness of a proposal more so than the concreteness and fine-tuned polish of a final decision, providing them with an appealingly unsophisticated, erratic wild card engravement. Broderick's voice sweeps with the uneasiness of a balloon floating around with a sort of misleading confidence, considering how the balloon is probable to burst at any moment. "Up in the Pine" shudders like the weathered bark eroding on an aging tree. Broderick turns to the fantastical, youthful leaning of her voice to try to halt the fallout, but the hampered, haggard plummet endures nevertheless. "Up in the Pine" describes the feeling of powerlessness, albeit without the contempt of being a quitter or a loser. The track seems to speak for those scenarios where even putting the best foot forward may not be enough, but it wasn't for a lack of effort. There is a degree of satisfaction present for having tried, but there is also an unrest discord kicking around, because success is not ultimately had. "Mama Shelter" chronicles the esteemed relief that sets in when a hostile storm pauses for a brief but mood uplifting, repercussion-filled sun shower. "Fall Hard" is that crushing case when favourably unforgettable memories in the periphery's vault threaten to taint a relationship's present, and derail a relationship's future. This song is for when you can't live up to the high points procured in your relationship's glory days. Devastating lyrics coact with clunky, burdensome piano to create a weary, ripped aura of regret. "And I can't say it feels good/That I don't know you/When I'm not with you/I don't know you/I'm not near you" (Heather Woods Broderick- Fall Hard). "The Sentiments" begins with Broderick posing a simple question to her partner that she seems to already know the answer to. "Will you tell me if you like the way you're living?/You keep me in the dark" (Heather Woods Broderick- The Sentiments). The song takes us through her journey of asking this question, and then waiting for the unassured, plaintive response that will clearly be revealing traces of dread and disillusionment. "The Sentiments" reflects how the most simplistic matters can end up feeling so much more complicated and drawn out, due to the headstrong attitude of emotion. Beginning with a great sense of legibility (voice and piano presented hygienically), but then gradually overtaken by distortion, jittery rumpus, and a camouflaged vocal, "The Sentiments" is a showcase for how nebulous, blurred and heated emotional ping pong with a significant other can become. "The Sentiments" is a reminder that even if both partners actively try to meet each other in the middle, serving without bombast (a serve made with the best intentions) can still lead to the ball landing out of bounds. "The Sentiments" reminds us that each partner will always have their own way of feeling, thinking and interacting, and efforts should be made in love for barriers to be seen as interruptions and challenges to overcome, instead of the final straw. "Glider" is about facing up to the splotches of paint on your life wall; about learning to see those splotches not naively and unrealistically as enhancements, but also not with serious gripes and disdain. "Glider" is about recognizing the splotches for what they are: splotches....and learning to continue on, splotches and all.
Key Track: "Fall Hard"
1) Monuments and Statues- Fractals
"Fractals" defies its genre pigeonhole, by setting banjos, cellos to counter clockwise grooves that spill the beans on how to live an awakened life led by the leeway of variety and the hand-picked preferences that come from such customization. The voices of Reith (good-humoured, kindly) Bromstad (sharp, almighty) and Barker (sparkling, bright) take turns leading the way, and reflect upon life's zigzag of twists and turns. "Fractals" positions love as life's highest caliber. Lead off track "Oh Great Rose" is an outburst of endearment, set to a cozy, folky melody. "Oh Great Rose" is a keen sounding gust of prosperity. It is an ode to love's right stuff. The song positions love as requiring immense vulnerability and giving, to be a rousing success. Yet, "Oh Great Rose" convincingly claims that real love is incredibly rewarding and worthwhile. Standout track "Speak of the Sea" came to be when the band turned to their former 2009 track "Ghost" for inspiration. What was initially set to be a reworking and update of "Ghost" turned into a musical creation of its own, surprising even its creators in the process. A hazy, ethereal texture is augmented by the flirting of Reith and Bromstad's voices. In its final moments, Reith's voice suddenly stands in isolation. The shift from togetherness to solitariness is chilling, at once alerting us to the commodity of interpersonal connectivity, and the subsequent hole created by the absence of connectivity. "Red Dress" revels in its commitment to motion. It leaps, curves, traquilizes and soars, refusing to be stagnant. Lean percission is employed expertly, infusing the song with just a sliver of propulsion and rhythm for diversity, without compromising the satisfying lush atmosphere. Laura Barker's enticing, angelic coo drops over the twisty, bending instrumentation with purpose, grounding the song, while embodying feeling itself. When Bromstad adds her otherworldly harmonies to the mix, transcendence is achieved. "Spiral Tunnel" is brave. Spawned during a time of great uncertainty, "Spiral Tunnel" is the sound of a bond on the verge of being broken, but there is a refusal to part with possibility, and it is this sense of trust and faith that mediates. Escaping from being an exercise in self deprecation, "Spiral Tunnel" is that rare ballad that aims for resolution. It is a song that believes wholeheartedly in resiliency as a leading tactic for relationship rebirth. "Spiral Tunnel" is proof that disillusionment doesn't have to lead to dispersal. "Catch You" frames love as being the go-to, desert island adventure: if they had to choose one adventure to go on, "Catch You" is their declaration that pursuing love would be it. Catch You" zeroes in on what's most important: love. "Life" is the charged finale. A celebration of human ties, and the way in which we are bound to each other, "Life" is a celebration of the lasting, spiritual, deep glow of friendship love. Laura Barker and Mackenzie Bromstad's voices consort with each other like lifelong buds reminiscing about their shared experiences of yesterday, while whispering their hopes for tomorrow into each others ears, and sharing their secrets of today. "Life" captures the lift of examining past high points, while coming to the exciting realization that a new favourite memory is currently in the works right now as we speak. "Fractals" takes us through life's triumphs, despairs, and challenges, while vetoing silence and advocating activeness. It is the sound of authenticity: the sound of being alive. It is the sound of real, dynamic people navigating the curvy, diverging landscape of life. That the record chooses to revel instead of weep, and embrace instead of shun is a resounding testament to the record's nuanced charm and vivid originality. "Fractals" is my pick for album of the year.
Key Track: "Life"
a writing project by Nat Bourgon
I would like to honour the full length albums/EPs released in 2015 that inspired the heck out of me, by writing a blurb about each album.
25) Annabelle Chvostek- Be the Media
It's disheartening that Annabelle Chvostek is probably still best known for her contributions to The Wailing Jennys' breakthrough album "Firecracker" (2006) a decade ago. Since she departed The Wailing Jennys in 2007, Chvostek has released three solo albums, including 2015's severely underrated gem "Be The Media." Chvostek's "Be The Media" strays from the crisp, refined acoustic folk that usually rules her solo material. She swaps her acoustic guitar for an electric, wails instead of whispers, and emancipates her previously censored rock and roll virtuoso from deep within. Her songwriting sounds honed here, and her newfound sprawling, escalating stamina keeps her music budding. Lyrically, she is as poetic and eloquent as ever, graciously veering more on the side of the personal (where she thrives) after 2012's politically heavy LP "Rise." The title track "Be The Media" is flaming and suggestive. "This Night" is feel-good. "Black Hole" is sinister. Closer "Say It Right" is sentimental yet invigorated. You Can Come Now", the rare occasion on this collection where Chvostek returns to balladry, is her definitive career highlight to date (her work with The Wailing Jennys included). It was quietly released, but "Be The Media" is a fascinating work of art that is equally a departure as it is an exhibition of the goods that she's always been carrying.
Key Track: "You Can Come Now"
24) Guster- Evermotion
After a run of three incalculably esteemed records in the '90s and '00s that propelled Guster into favourite band status (1999's "Lost and Gone Forever", 2003's "Keep It Together" and 2006's "Ganging Up On the Sun" were an untouchable trio of progress), it was somewhat inevitable that 2010's "Easy Wonderful" would underwhelm a tad. Indeed, "Easy Wonderful" felt less like the work of the inventive, collaborative band I knew and loved, and more analogous to a Ryan Miller solo project, with a few throw-in, token contributions from his bandmates here and there. In my mind, when Guster wins, their success comes through utilizing a shared frontman dynamic between Ryan Miller and Adam Gardner, not only so far as vocals are concerned but also in terms of identity, presentation, and songwriting input. Also, Guster songs at their most prosperous sound simultaneously celebratory and inhibited. The best Guster tunes grapple with melancholia but manage to present grievances in a driving, appreciative-in-spite-of-it-all sort of way. "Easy Wonderful" pushed things a shake too too far in one direction, feeling a little triumphant and self-congratulatory. With that record, I kept waiting for the usually nippy draft to set in and provide some balance, but unfortunately it didn't. Thankfully, that essential tinge of dejection and longing that went missing in action on "Easy Wonderful" comes back in a big way with Guster's new record, 2015's "Evermotion". On standout 'It Is Just What It Is", Ryan Miller shares the microphone with Adam Gardner almost evenly throughout, proving how beneficial to the band's sound it is when Gardner's role exceeds that of a utility backup. "Expectation" is classic Guster, with its thoughtful lyrics about navigating adulthood, and its melodic roots accounted for. Yet, "Expectation" admirably pushes beyond the band's signature sound. It has that newbie sense of innocence that Guster always excels at, and feels reminiscent of the atmospheric production found on Guster's best album, "Lost and Gone Forever." But, it manages to push the group's sound forward by venturing closer to the sonics of electronic music than the guitar led indie-pop that the band made its name at. "Kid Dreams" is nostalgic but also feels fresh. On a lyrical level, it feels like a continuation of "Homecoming King" from Guster's 2003 LP "Keep It Together", although instrumentally "Kid Dreams" is much more exploratory, and risky. "Evermotion" is easily the best Guster record since "Ganging Up The Sun" came out almost a decade earlier, and it even rivals "Lost and Gone Forever" for the title of the band's towering achievement to date.
Key Track: "It Is Just What It Is"
23) Paula Cole- 7
Paula Cole returned to music making in 2007 following an eight year hiatus. Since deciding to make a comeback, she has now quietly released four albums in the last nine years. More crucial than the quantity of releases is that these new Cole albums are some of the best of her career. With the release of her new LP "7", Paula Cole continues to raise the quality bar. Her music has grown more emotional and expressive, and reaches a higher plane of truth here. There is an interesting tension throughout the album, as her piano narrates her fractures, but her voice carries a newfound tone of relaxation and acceptance, as if she is more secure and settled on an assured, trusting train of thought, grounded on her updated belief that she will find her way in life, converse to the pesky interference and obstructions. "New York City" conjures up a trope of lament and neglect. It is an ode to being passed by, and feeling washed up, and invisible. It expresses the ordeal of being estranged from the standing ovations that used to emerge as frequently as routine. "You Will Never Know' is a letter documenting what it feels like to have been thoroughly captivated by another, while dealing with the hassles of self disgruntlement. It examines the trickiness of being a part of a couple when you are grasping at the straws of unrealized potential as an individual. It is concerned with trying to figure out how to give ample love to a romantic mate that you adore, when you are struggling to find enough love to give to your own self. "Puncture Wound" is the best of the lot: it is a crash course in how to healthily deal with anguish, while focusing in on actualizing that determination to see everyday as a fresh opportunity to hope, create and evolve. The greatest strength of "7" is that how unabashedly intrinsic and real it is. There are no promises made here to bring back 1996 and the heyday of "I Don't Want To Wait", nor does Cole want to live in the past's pale, restrictive, enclosed ward. "These new songs excel because even as they are reflective and utilize comparisons to the past, they are willing to march onward and adapt. These are songs willing to fit into the present's pair of slippers, instead of fuss about being a different size than last time. "7" may be the most rewarding entourage of songs that Cole has written. Cole has always been a superb storyteller, but agreeably, now she is telling her own stories with more gusto and abandon than ever. In the process, "7" finds Paula Cole redefining the deepness of sincerity, and bottling the wet discomfort of self awareness's spit.
Key Track: "Puncture Wound"
22) Kathryn Calder- self titled
Ever since I heard the desolate icicle that was the Kathryn Calder penned Immaculate Machine palpitation "Statue" (off 2005's "Ones and Zeros"), I longed for more compositions in the same slivered vein from Kathryn. Ten years later, Calder has finally returned to the permafront-laden, disarmingly downcast conditions that spawned "Statue." "Beach" is topped with opaque spice, but is the most penetrable piece she has ever written. It is a song with a generous margin of space, setting the scene of a devoid beach. It carries the moody vibe of a blackout, stripping life down to its most essential, minimalist essence. In "Beach", there is no battery for the flashlight. There is just unadorned naturalness, without the artifice. Even "Take a Little Time", the grooviest thing on the release, leaves its head bobbing movements for a cushy seated position during parts of its final third. "Blue Skies" is a comforting shoulder to lean on during the tumble, propping us up a pinch thanks to the wool-like, softhearted flush of her voice. "Song in Cm" is like the idealistic counselor that actually listens with empathy, instead of spatting unhelpful words like a one-way road. "Song in Cm" brings to mind a counselor that then starts bawling in unison with us so we know there is understanding in play, not just placating at work: that we are in this together. This album establishes that Calder's gift is making music that listens to us when we need to spill. Let her album be your sounding board.
Key Track: "Beach"
21) Kris and Dee- A Great Long Game
Hearing Kris Abbott's guitar playing is like inhaling renewal. I feel exhilarated and free after listening to her guitar parts. Dee McNeil's spongy voice soaks up the guff inside your head, and helps you land back on even ground. Whether you need reassurance or a reality check, this album will set your mental capacities straight, and will be your heart's metronome. I spent the greater part of a day listening to "Trembling Aspen" on repeat, and that song was the elixir I needed to reacquaint myself with my bearings during a time when self-reinvention was necessary. "Pilot Light" is deep stuff, and Abbott's guitar solo offers some angularity, and backs up the grind of tough love being issued and received. "Cold Chisel" is that long awaited place where reality and dreams meet halfway. "A Great Long Game" is an album that asks the universe to be its pen pal, with self-betterment as the primary goal. It is a collection willing to intake and embrace the confusion of question marks, while determined to not call off the expedition for answers.
Key Track: "Pilot Light"
20) Evening Hymns- Quiet Energies
Earnestness and sensitivity are my favourite two trait in male vocalists. "House of Mirrors" is so open, so vulnerable. Sylvie Smith's harmonies add perfume to these songs. "Evil Forces" feels spiritual. It pushes me to run more determinedly, absolutely in my marathon of living. "Rescue Teams" is both troubled and attentive. These are songs that have no interest in caricatures, and photogenic editing. These are songs about not holding back, and displaying the concealed pockets of your being with pride.
Key Track: "House of Mirrors"
19) Great Northern- Tremors
I had been waiting for six years for this album to come out. It felt like twelve years. Great Northern's 2007 LP "Trading Twilight for Daylight" sure clicked with me. I used to play it day in and out during my summer job bus commute back in the summer of 2008. "Trading Twilight for Daylight" actually somehow made me look forward to the excessive travel time I endured. I also enjoyed 2009's full-length album, "Remind Me Where the Light Is." They've been talking about a third album for years, and it finally was released in 2015. The very fact of having new music from this band alone felt like a victory in and of itself. They departed from their label, and just worked away for years making the music that spoke to their impulses and inner taste. That the result of their labour is hands down the finest Great Northern album to date just makes this all feel even sweeter. Rachel Stotle's voice feels so triumphant and energized here. When her voice fills my ears' channels, I feel as though she is sharing some of her keen, animated vibes with me, and that they are translating into moments of activeness. Her voice helps me find the courage to take charge of my life and "adult" more often. The music on this album maintains the band's trademark for making melody sing, but the vision feels more interesting and developed this time. "Holes" tells us how to keep things heated and passionate in romance throughout longevity, as Stotle delivers her strongest vocal take ever. "Human" starts out as the quietest song on the record, but it evolves into something so much more pulsating and catchy. "Skin of Our Teeth" is downright thrilling. "Seasons" sounds motivating and rallying, as it glorifies sticking together as a supportive tandem, during those times when you feel stuck. This is a champion return for one of indie rock's most devastatingly underrated bands.
Key Track: "Human"
18) Damon and Naomi- Fortune
"Fortune" serves as the soundtrack for Naomi Yang's film, but more importantly, it is Damon and Naomi's first full length album since their 2011 career highlight "False Beats and True Hearts." With Naomi focusing her creative energy on the film itself, Damon takes control of the album, as it is his still boyish voice for once that takes the lead the most often here (usually Naomi leads the way when it comes to vocals). Damon's vocals have always been more poker-faced than Naomi's all-consuming delivery, so Damon's voice is certainly the right fit for the unhurried, low-pressure songs of this release. "Fortune" is the most acoustic sounding Damon and Naomi album since 2000's "With Ghost", which allows the duo's voices to be more up front. When Damon and Naomi align their voices in that mesmerizing, singular harmony, as on standout "Sky Memories", I am reminded of the beauty of each passing millisecond, engulfing life's quieter, celibate moments. While listening to "Sky Memories", time seems to slow down enough to appreciate the finer details. Damon and Naomi's music is about feeling, and this is one of the most feeling inspired records of their career to date.
Key Track: "Sky Memories"
17) Kathryn Williams- Hypoxia
There is an apocalyptic sense of doom and dread that creeps through "Hypoxia", which is appropriate considering the album was inspired by Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar." Williams employs a much more intentionally brash and choppy sound throughout this album than in her past work, and this has an unnerving affect on the songs, leaving the listener with the unmistakable vibe that something is amiss. Tension is the name of the game throughout "Hypoxia". Williams' voice, which usually comes across as direct and trustworthy, carries a newfound mysterious, deceiving tone, as though she is storytelling and improvising more than emoting and reflecting. She voice sounds weathered by misplaced trust and disappointment. There is a frantic sigh communicated again and again, as if to warn us of being conned by ourselves and others around. Her songwriting feels in line with her previous explorations, but on this record, it feels as though she then went and dipped her compositions in abrasive, rowdy coating. "Mirrors" feels cross and cluttered, and "Cuckoo" feels heavier and more austere than most theatrical productions. It is when Williams' embraces her more hospitable sounding vocal enunciation, and when she focuses on the pastoral breath of her acoustic guitar, that she really shines. The undisturbed, patient character study "Electric" that begins the record, and the grievous, touching tribute "When Nothing Meant Less both perfect the starry-eyed, minimal wonder that Kathryn Williams has been clarifying since her stunning 1999 debut LP "Dog Leap Stairs."
Key Track: "When Nothing Meant Less"
16) Cynthia G. Mason- Cinematic Turn (EP)
It's funny how this new collection from Cynthia G. Mason succeeds by de-emphasizing the element that I once considered was Mason's greatest gift as a singer/songwriter. When listening to her 2000 self-titled debut, I prized the melancholic ambiance that Mason's songs and voice mustered. Surprisingly, my most favourite of the new songs that comprise her latest EP "Cinematic Turn" is the tune that evokes the most dash. "18th Street" is indeed more driving and upbeat musically than most of Mason's catalog, with her guitar sounding enterprising and intrepid. As for her voice, while I wouldn't go as far as saying her delivery sounds downright chipper here, there is more wit and evenness, and less weep and depression in "18th Street" than in any other Mason penned song in her fifteen year plus career. Even in "One More Trip Back East", which is a much more solemn offering, she sounds down, but not out. This more levelheaded approach to singing that shows up throughout "Cinematic Turn" allows Mason's songs to wear cozier sweaters to cope with the cold endured. Case in point: The melancholia that I used to adore about Mason's music is still around, only this time it's been toned down, sharing hours with the spring solstice. Another change for the better: On her previous LP, 2007's "Quitter's Claim", Mason's voice sounded filtrated through the pudgy slime of a subterranean vent, never landing quite as audibly and ample as I would have hoped. This time, her vocals are presented much more decidedly and distinctly, and this pushes these songs a notch ahead of her past glories.
Key Track: "18th Street"
15) Megan Hamilton- Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings
In an era where singles and hype are all the rage, Megan Hamilton comes through with so much more than a pile of new songs. This is the ultimate definition of an album, and at that, one that plays supremely better as a whole. Historically, Hamilton has utilized storytelling predominantly, augmented by a personal bend. But here, her songwriting output comes from a more autobiographical perspective, which adds undertone and intensity to her songs. Waves of her folk ancestry brush up against the shoreline now and then, but she elects to incorporate a few more hooks on this particular swim. Hamilton utilizes some pop instincts here, and the result is the most sonically riveting, and lyrically atypical record of her career so far. And just because it sounds best as a whole, we should not discount the standalone strength of individual tracks on this record. "The Violins" is a dreamy number with Hamilton delivering lead vocals that are teary eyed and tightened, yet also shimmering and consolable. Her lyrics here are as poetic as ever, and inspired my own writing heavily throughout the year. The drizzling piano sound that recurs provides musical profundity. The self-diagnostic, heartfelt "Late Bloomer" emphasizes how good Hamilton is at convincing the guitar to surprise and invent. If Hamilton was previously viewed as an underrated guitarist, a listen to "Late Bloomer" should travel far in altering this perception. This is hypnotizing, boundary pushing music that thrives at accentuating the rituals and character of expression.
Key Track: "The Violins"
14) Low- Ones and Sixes
Let's get this out of the way: This is a much more grubbier, and rumpled affair than 2013's prettier "The Invisible Way", which was a career high point of theirs. Low albums tend to favour either elegance and beatific binds, or chapped, marred existence. On "The Invisible Way", Mimi Parker sang lead vocals on five songs, and the overall tone was more about embracing love's rainbow, rather than dwelling on disparaging defeat. Now, with "Ones and Sixes", the mood is much more gnarled and the lyrics focus more insistently on frazzled faith. Optimism counts are low here. But the songwriting remains solid, the band's motivation to explore shifts in sound picks up, and this is a very consistent record. "Ones and Sixes" is not as affecting an album as 'The Invisible Way", but it is still an important and essential Low album with diversity in sound and inclination. Mimi Parker's presence is reduced from her above-average level of contribution to "The Invisible Way." Parker's few lead vocals here, including the snug, amicably lifting "Congregation" and the advisory, deep-seated "The Innocents" relieve some of the scour from Sparhawk's duress-led turns fronting the band. Sparkhawk isn't without his moments too. His contribution "Lies" is a top five Low song because of how forthcoming it is toward his personal life. It examines the state of the ever-evolving marriage between Alan and Mimi in a clear cut, middleman-free expressway that gets to the bottom of it, without being overtly soapy or unfairly confrontational. The song's middle puts Sparhawk's voice on sabbatical for a time, and Parker belts out some enlightened, perceptive insight with an unprecedented feral mettle, like a position of authority's crackdown of enforcement. "Spanish Translation" demonstrates that Low can be messy and intimate at once; that these traits don't have to interfere with each other. Low are certainly at their best when they don't refuse to settle for choosing between bloom and adventure. The best moments of "Ones and Sixes" prove that this is a band that can have both, without compromise, when they choose to put in the grunt work necessary to achieve that balancing act.
Key Track: "Lies"
13) Destroyer- Poison Season
When Destroyer fever swept through the scene like a flashy fad of the year back in early 2011, I was baffled. I mean, Daniel Bejar had been making his peculiar, gleefully inaccessible, musically nervy albums for years. Why did people choose "Kaputt" as their point of entrance into the Destroyer fan club? A few years of reflection later, I have stumbled upon some semblance of understanding on this long-puzzling matter. "Kaputt" retained the fitting jabs at one dimensional lifestyles that Dan Bejar playfully mocks on every project he attaches his name to, alongside his marked freckle of prankster-like tomfoolery, but it is a much more serious album than all cousins and siblings in his discography. "Kaputt" largely abandoned the goofy, lighthearted vocal intonations that Bejar excels at. If "Kaputt' was his attempt to shirk his banter and ridiculous persona, to see what lay underneath, his latest album "Poison Season" manages to acknowledge the sophistication and melodic advances of "Kaputt" while reintroducing his audience to his archetypal madman-like, overstimulated demeanor. "Bangkok" is a metaphor for this record's award worthy intermingling of sorrow and sass. It starts out sounding like a once-hippie having a pint of nostalgia about his glory days. Candor reigns supreme, and for a time, "Bangkok" feels like a continuation of Kaputt's reserved stance. But then, towards the end of the song, it is as if the hippie decided that he's still got it, and that life is too short to be recounting when he could be out there living it up right now, having the night of his life out on the town. He gets animated and barbaric again, like a man brought back from the pits of an intended swan song. He speaks in the tongue of a riddle. "Bring out your dead/Bring out the light/Bring out your dark/Birds in flight/Bring out your red roses too/Hey, what's got into Sunny" (Destroyer- Bangkok). He sounds reinvigorated and impassioned with his songs, music, and even life itself on "Poison Season", and the record's ability to merge a jubilant spirit with blighted, scorned lyric, set to an outstretched sonic domain, allows "Poison Season" to impress and intrigue in equal measure. He's back!
Key Track: "Bangkok"
12) Michael Feuerstack- The Forgettable Truth
There is much fuss made about the aging of musicians. More specifically, there is enormous chatter about how aging affects both songwriting and singing. Many seem to subscribe to the idea that the voices of musicians they love start to deteriorate at a certain point: that time ultimately has its way. Many human beings also postulate that the music that their favourite bands made in their youth was punchier and surging with more momentum than the tunes that the same groups make later on, approaching or into mid age. Along comes Michael Feuerstack to buck the trend. At age 42, Feuerstack has made the record of his life. His voice has deepened, pushing his vocals into a territory where maturity and heartthrob sensory meet halfway. Listeners will swoon at how his delivery shifts from rugged to sensual in seamless fashion. They will marvel at the way Feuerstack's art reworks the meaning of macho, to include the discernment and sharing of feelings. His music sounds more avant-garde here than on prior releases. After two decades of writing and recording, he has a greater sense of insight into his strengths and limitations at this point, so he is freer to experiment and jerk the soundscape at his own inclination. He boldly changes up some of his signature moves, while also coming full circle by completing and actualizing musical and lyrical quests that he has spent years building toward. He allows himself to admirably smirk at his bristol board of experiences now and then. He is more on target with his musical DNA throughout the album, now fully embracing his customized style of befriending wit and deliberation without any lingering awkwardness. He pulls this off without ever coming across as self-righteous or egotistic. He is a man of modesty, and thrives off his homey, underrated attitude. His music has accumulated an extra helping of insight and wisdom since his days fronting his former band Snailhouse. "Glacier Love" initially plays as a fluid and stable river with its smooth, linear foams of guitar, but further listens reveal a certain inscrutable, sphinx-like state of commotion. Veiled dimness leaks underneath the pleasant interior of Feuerstack's songs. He sounds vehement and desperate throughout "The Forgettable Truth": Vehement from having the strength and lessons of twenty plus years in music to pull from, and yet as desperate and pleading to make art as affecting and important as the first timer just starting out a career. Anyone not convinced that age is just a number as far as musicians are concerned really needs to hear this record. I liked his past work, but on "The Forgettable Truth", Feuerstack puts it all together and delivers his magnum opus. This is work worth loving. This is work that is lovable.
Key Track: "Glacier Love"
11) Dave Rawlings Machine- Nashville Obsolete
I used to look down on simplicity. I held the firm opinion that as far as music was concerned, effortless was at odds with quality. The easier on the ears, and the more basic a song sounded, the more I would shun that song. I didn't adopt this mindset because I was obsessive compulsive with achieving some kind of hipster, indie cred. Rather, I was impressed by creativity at its peak, by shifts, and by departures from the niches that beloved artists carve out. I was so adamant for so long that success in music was bound up with complexity. I credit "Nashville Obsolete", the new Dave Rawlings Machine album, with convincing me that an artist doesn't have to be an experimental daredevil to make extraordinary music. "The Weekend" feels timeless. It has no interest in studio gags and production gimmicks. It is almost entirely built upon voice and guitar. This song is focused. The playing is tight. The harmonies are spot on, and the voices (of Rawlings and partner Gillian Welch) are so intertwined. "Short Haired Woman Blues" is pulled off because Rawlings is one of the most talented guitarists on the planet. It's got a secretive, jittery quality to it instrumentally, thanks to Rawlings' decision to abandoning melody abruptly. Somehow it doesn't sound too finicky. The dissonance never usurps the pleasurable sense of belonging that Rawlings' songs instill in the listener. Rawling's voice plays like that of a father figure utilizing his protective instincts, ensuring your safety and security no matter what. It's a comforting feeling, hearing his altruistic sounding, nurturing voice advise you against falling for the short-term rewards of a quick fix. Rawlings encourages you to hold out for something substantial in the relationship realm. "The Trip" positions Rawlings as an wordsmith to revere. He maximizes the impact of the English language at its most straightforward. A mid-song guitar solo in an eleven minute long song would ordinarily scream over-indulgence, but here it is a welcomed surprise. When Gillian Welch joins in on the song's chorus, the beauty here is beyond compare. "Nashville Obsolete" is an elite reminder of the charms of being flash-free. It is an ode to the feel-good vibes that can only come when zeroing in on real, face-to-face communication. "Nashville Obsolete" rolls its eyes at technology's imprint of rush and impatience in modern society, and then lines up for a reservation- free dinner with some old friends. This album is like a night of good old fashioned conversation in a room, where cellphones are left at home. Laughing in a room with people you love is what it's all about, and "Nashville Obsolete" reminds us of this. It also pronounces that the craft of writing great songs never gets old, especially songs inspired more by the tradition of truth than tricks.
Key Track: "The Trip"
10) Heather Nova- The Way it Feels
"The Way it Feels" resonates because of the resistance it puts up towards finality. Written during the final act of her marriage, "The Way it Feels" finds Nova clinging to the possibility of an uptick, and refuses to completely give up on her regressing relationship. Even as the reasons to remain upbeat continue to diminish, and even as mourning fills her mornings, she sings like her fate has yet not been sealed, like there is still a verdict to be made. "The Way it Feels" makes the lowest odds still feel salvageable. Nova has this gift of communicating the possibility of light, and betting on optimism's leadership, even when the sun seems to be setting. Whether through her no frills, tell-it-like-it-is lyricism that never beats around the bush, or her visually depicting, brimful easel of sonic brio, Heather Nova's songs manage to prize the unsymmetrical times of life, long enough to snatch something meaningful that hits home. Her music and words playfully splash in a puddle of dampened dreams. Her work positions the dumps as a long term funk, rather than a surrender, and "The Way it Feels" shows us how to compartmentalize life through a hopeful, seeking filter. "The Way it Feels" is Heather Nova's strongest set of songs since her 1998 treasure "Siren". Fitted in production choices that land her in the most seemly compromise imaginable between her indie-like, DIY vision and her big league talents, and containing some of the most memorable storytelling and personal postscripts I've heard this year, Heather Nova's "The Way it Feels" is an applause garnering tour guide of feeling itself. The encore rewards here are eternal.
Key Track: "This Humanness"
9) Belle and Sebastian- Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance
Having multiple songwriters in the same band allows for added opportunity for that band to have a more assorted, wider ranging identity. It is so much more interesting to me when a band's identity gets to be extended beyond the vision of their leader. Naturally then, it is a shame to me that when the band Belle and Sebastian is name dropped, peoples' thoughts land unequivocally on frontman Stuart Murdoch. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance", the new Belle and Sebastian record, is a full throttle indicator of how much this band deserves to be viewed as a legitimate group that benefits maximally from its cumulative array of talent, rather than merely just a medium for Stuart Murdoch's music making. Sarah Martin has playing violin in Belle and Sebastian since 1996, and contributing her own original material to the group since 2000. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" places Martin in a primary role, as she sings lead on album highlights "The Power Of Three" (a dreamy, theatrical pop song with brazen, charged lyrics) and "The Book Of You" (a rowdy, agile tune with a catchy chorus, and a roaring charm). Sarah Martin's voice is also well suited to harmonizing with Stuart Murdoch, as evident by the romanticized thrill ride known as "The Everlasting Muse." "Enter Sylvia Plath" makes me want to put on some blue suede shoes, and hit the dance floor for days, and once again here, Sarah Martin receives a moment to shine, delivering a mesmerizing vocal solo halfway through that alters the landscape of the entire song. Stuart Murdoch's opener "Nobody's Empire" is billed as the most personal song he has ever written. It is at once the quintessential, classic Belle and Sebastian song, yet also moves the group's sound forward by possessing hints of show tune pizzazz, incorporating gospel-like backing vocals at times, and experimenting with a much greater use of the piano than most songs in the band's discography can attest to. "Ever Had a Little Faith?" is the idealistic metaphor for how Belle and Sebastian is at is best when Jackson, and Martin share the glory with Murdoch. My favourite moment in the track is when Stevie Jackson and Stuart Murdoch combine their voices, pooling their expertise together to create something miraculous. It's one of the few times in a twenty year career where both Jackson and Murdoch sing together during the same part. The moment feels reminiscent of male bonding at its finest: of two men who have experienced endless touring and recording alongside one another, yet seem to be the opposite of sick of one another. As if that isn't enough, in swoops the voice of Sarah Martin during the song's final quarter, softening Murdoch's sorrow with her waves of femininity, and her zen-like sensuality. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" thrives because of it's ability to adequately capture the hefty talents of Stuart Murdoch's cohorts. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" makes it clear that if Stuart Murdoch is "Sebastian" in Belle and Sebastian, Sarah Martin and Stevie Jackson have now finally earned their claim to being "Belle".
Key Track: "Ever Had a Little Faith?
8) Johanna Warren- numun
Listening to numun, I am now able to distinguish between having proficiency with an instrument, and being in command of an instrument. Johanna Warren has complete, utter command of her guitar. Throughout this record, she demands her guitar to re-enact the jolts and jumps of her most innate brain activity, and her guitar obliges resoundingly. Warren's guitar playing bravely takes the listener on an extended hike through her mind's realities. Her guitar navigates the choppiest and messiest junctures of life; this is no quest to soften the blow. Warren possesses the intuition and gentleness of a non traditional healer. She taps into the vibes of well-being through spiritual rituals and the forces of the natural world. Warren's words are often swollen with the ripple effect of peacemaking with your most non-ideal, hard to swallow realizations. It is so challenging to acknowledge your areas that require improvement, yet acknowledging your imperfections allows for growth. Warren recognizes that sometimes you need to feel what you're feeling, before you can begin to feel better. "No more trying/Let's sit and stare/at the indescribable deep despair" (Johanna Warren- Found I Lost). The encouraging slant of her guitar work allows her music to feel rejuvenating and refreshing, more so than cold and self-effacing. It is more normal than not for singers to impose a theatrical presence on their vocalizations. It is a typical move for singers to emphasize the emotions they are trying to convey to an emphatic, drawn-out degree, like actors trying to inspire a certain type of reaction to the character they are portraying. But when Johanna Warren sings, there is no overdosing on emotional stakes. There is no intentional presentation to provoke a certain mindset in her listeners. Warren doesn't sing and play like she means it. She just sings and plays, and we know it's real: no convincing required.
Key Track: "Found I Lost"
7) Corrina Repp- The Pattern of Electricity
In 2001, Corrina Repp gave us a heartbreaking record called "I Take On Your Days", which documented stomped on hearts, the outs of endings, and letdowns leading the pack. After following "I Take On Your Days" with a pair of more outward looking, less personal solo records, and a stint in the band Tu Fawning, Repp finally returns to providing play by play commentary of her heart's quest for transcendence and unbreakable compatibility. Her new solo record 'The Pattern of Electricity" is full of the type of intimate self portraits of sound and musings on domestication's undoing that made her 2001 LP such a prized possession. Repp's new album is also a guide of sorts to what she wants out of love's second take. Written and recorded following a breakup, "The Pattern of Electricity" finds Repp yelping more than sighing, and creating a more full-blown eruption of sound from the foundations of her minimalist sonic sketches. If her 2001 album "I Take On Your Days" is the sound of love being negated with a subtle slip, and the mournful, laborious gasp that results, her 2015 record "The Pattern of Electricity" takes a more fiery, rebellious approach to coping with a flameout. Lyrically, throughout "The Pattern of Electricity", Repp refuses to make one-sided accusations. She does not pass the blame like a hot potato. While "I Take On Your Days" is about ruminating on what went wrong, "The Pattern of Electricity" is more invested in course correction, and learning from the disappointments encountered in her now defunct relationship. "The Pattern of Electricity" is a compromise between the panic of insufficiency, and the serenity of morning glory, before the guttural cracks awaken. Every so often, Repp transfixes us with a cameo of that low, whispery tone of voice that is as humane and settling, as it is extra-terrestrial and confounding. Closer "In the Dark, You're More Colorful" opens with a deliberating guitar, and Repp's voice floating lightly, gracefully. The electric guitar starts sweating, as her voice grows grows more provoked and ruffled. The tidy beginning morphs into a rude awakening, like being pulled out of a snug sleep into the untamed, unsafe ruins of living. Repp's craftsmanship lies in somehow making a rude awakening feel like a wake up call. Repp tears down hope, only to then acknowledge the benefits of starting anew, and building from the ground up. Thankfully, her new creative concoctions remember and celebrate the blueprints of yore. Repp reminds us throughout "The Pattern of Electricity that a clean slate doesn't have to always mean a clean break.
Key Track: "In the Dark, You're More Colorful"
6) Rachel Garlin- Wink at July
Rachel Garlin rummages through the recycling bin of life's small scale, reserved moments, and collects their charms, re-acquainting us with their worth. "Accordion Song" is musically lifting and enlightened, which is the last thing one would expect a eulogy to be. There is a magic-like quality to Garlin's voice. She does not sound indebted to her circumstance, even as she is forced to come to terms with the passing of her father. It is this lack of bitterness, and ability to look at each situation and see a way to overcome and thrive, instead of look back and contempt, which makes Garlin such a luminary. There is a determination to find a reason to celebrate and take stock of the prosperity of living, even as she is singing about the loss of her father. "The Sea You See" uses personification to superb effect. "If the island wears a hat that's made of fog" (Rachel Garlin- The Sea You See). The song is more wishful than wistful, even as it is driven by a frugal, introverted acoustic guitar line. "Stranded" sidelines her faithful guitar, in favour of piano. The tune turns to Garlin's former role as a school teacher to showcase the delicate dichotomy between wanting to help others learn and grow on one end, and the pursuit of one's own passion and dreams on the other. In Garlin's case, she realized that for all the advantages of shaping young minds and filling them with enthusiasm about discovering who they were, she needed to honour her own passion to pursue her singer/songwriting career with more oomph to fully become who she wanted to be. "So we dug a hole and/From underneath we were aware of all these engines running/We could not/We could not hear a sound" (Rachel Garlin- Stranded). "Wink at July" plays with a cordial nonchalance and coolness. Garlin's sounds and poetry are fluent at conveying gratitude and appreciation for the little things. Garlin's greatest asset is her ability to utilize tone and timbre of both instrumentation and voice to unleash pockets of emotive connotations that are in all of us, but we have never before quite understood. "Wink at July" is about understanding. It's about transitioning all the drama in our head into a more manageable forum, where we can actually make sense of it. Garlin treats the minor with a major importance, and helps us see the beauty of the less buoyant.
Key Track: "Accordion Song"
5) Amy Blasckhe- Opaline
Blaschke's music used have a pensive scramble running through it. Her 2003 self-titled album was the document of a 24 year old, soul searching her way through adulthood's opening frame, sorting through lofty decisions and earnestly conversing with herself about her chosen path. Now, with "Opaline", Blashke's new album, gone is the speculative abstraction and uncertainty. In its place is a newfound tenacity and poise that rustles through Blaschke's songs and lyrical expressions. After singing much of the material on 2013's "Desert Varnish" in a throatier, low pluck, the title track "Opaline" marks a return to Blaschke's most revered style of vocalizing: the high pitched, airy, philanthropic coo that sounds like it was birthed by angels. A shadowy, supernatural vibe hangs over the track, as if to capture the ongoing battle between dealing with the ghosts of the past, and seizing an open book ideal of the future. Her acoustic guitar is insulated here, feeling more toasty than benumbed. "Through to Blue" is a chirpy tale of empowerment and grit. Led by a savvy melodic dong, and a keen, heady sense of aplomb, this is Blaschke recognizing that what fairy tales depict as true love isn't actually what she wants. Love is in reality a messy, adulterated proposition, but this is Blaschke's acknowledgement that she values truth and the real with all its warts more than any representation or caricature of perfection. She sings "Fall through to blue with you", thus supporting the idea that true love, if built on allowing one another to see the full picture, can withstand even sickly terrain (Amy Blaschke- Through to Blue). "Walking with the Rise" is a memo about the importance of learning to rely first and foremost on your own self as your biggest supporter. The song is about self-autonomy, and how we have to be the loudest difference maker in the texture and shape of our own lives. "Walking with the Rise" indicates that waiting around for a guiding light in the form of a savior or partner is a mistake: that we would be missing out on realizing our true potential that way. For Blaschke, "Walking with the Rise" is about following your own vision thoroughly, allowing you to move that much closer to being your best self. With her "Opaline" LP, Blaschke reaches a place of embracing her inner pigmentation. This is the sound of a woman moving beyond the figuring and into the plane of complete and utter self-approval."Opaline" bids farewell to the reproachful stricture of youth, and now fully abides by the conditioning of her idiosyncratic grooves. "If I find some love of mine is leaving me behind/You can bet I'm kicking dust/walking with the rise" (Amy Blaschke- Walking with the Rise). "Opaline" is more than being on your own terms, it's loving those terms because they are yours.
Key Track: "Opaline"
4) Kodiak Deathbeds- self-titled
In 2007, Amber Webber (Black Mountain) set her quivering, gemstone-like voice to slanted acoustic guitar, to formulate thorny folk songs infused with a twist of indie spirit. This was under the moniker of Lightning Dust, also featuring fellow Black Mountain bandmate Joshua Wells. In Black Mountain, Webber's voice serves as the friendlier counterpart to Stephen McBean's grumpier, stingy vocal disposition. McBean usually takes the lead, and Webber's vocal presence tends to feel spotty and distant. Lightning Dust's 2007 self titled album found Webber thriving in a more up front and centre role. Her vocal chops alone command silence, and draw out our full attention spans, long tucked into hibernation. Eight years on from that 2007 Lightning Dust self-titled collection, and after sophomore and tertiary efforts that incorporated fuller, space-rock textures (2009's "Infinite Light") and an electronic bent (2013's "Fantasy"), finally, Webber reinstates her penchant for making tiptoe paced, understated bedroom folk music with the release of her new record, the self-titled effort from her latest musical incarnation Kodiak Deathbeds (alongside Derek Fudesco). "Cross That Line" is a song for lounging to, after surviving the demands of business hours. The rush of the work week falls away, and we are left with the ensuring, breathy voice of Amber Webber, soaring through the skies of searching. Her voice feels heightened, as though every second has a value of at least double its length. "I've been told I've been living too slow/Through the perspective of you" (Kodiak Deathbeds- Cross That Line). "Cross That Line" exemplifies the thorough presence of the moment's free cupboard space. Listening to this song grounds you in the present tense, and helps you feel the full offerings of all that this moment right now has on tap for us. "Cross That Line" eliminates all the obtrusive garbage clogging up valuable brainspace, and positions us squarely in the truth and luxury of the here and now. Keeping with its insistence on sporting an overcoat of mindfulness, "Cross That Line" finds Webber toning down her usual shriek to lower decibel levels, and delivering her vocals in a much more hushed manner. She sings with the residue of a single teardrop; the emotional wound no longer qualifies as fresh but still informs her shivering side effects, still wrecking havoc on a part time basis. "Gemini" throws us a ravaged blanket designed to help us dry off, after our run in with the dew of deprivation. However, this blanket is unpleasantly drizzled by the sprinkler's reach, so it doesn't quite provide us with the fuzzy feeling of a hug that we craved. This absence keeps love within striking distance, but still at bay. The song is the weather's equivalency of October evenings, where winter foreshadows its bite, but the sun still acts as your personal body guard, refusing to turn you over to the custody of below zero and its pummeling kick. Favourite "Saturday Night" is a swampy, dissonant trek through wild impulse itself. After following the marked route for a time, when faced with a fork in the road later on, "Saturday Night" elects for the unexpected turn, and strays from the path of least resistance. The electric guitar becomes tipsy, woozy from the shocking turn, as it encounters prickly thorns and foot-stubbing branches in its off-the-beaten-path jaunt. Webber's fearless decision to overturn security in favour of adventure's uncertainty gives "Saturday Night" roughed-up, scruffy facial hair. Weber accelerates from the secret telling, and muted volume present on much of the album at moments in "Saturday Night", as the angst starts overflowing, and she can no longer exist on standby mode. Webber knows it can no longer simmer on low. "Saturday Night" is the sound of the bubble about to burst. "Borderline" sways like the middle ground between a slow dance and the blare of an alarm that presses you into action.The acoustic guitar has a rhythmic snap to it, adding a percussive like dimension to the otherwise bare bones sonic recipe. Webber sounds lighter vocally, as though she is contemplating loosening up and having a stint of fun. Kodiak Deathbeds resets Amber Webber's compass of creativity, after a near decade of surprises. It is a return to Webber's humble entrance point. Kodiak Deathbeds allows her one-of-a-kind, wavy voice the opportunity to star, and her goth, minimalist inclinations a chance to become formed and mastered. Webber will surely go on to try on more expatriated musical hats in her career, but it will always be this type of spiked acoustic folk (as explored here in Kodiak Deathbeds) where I find her music is at its most delectable.
Key Track: "Saturday Night"
3) Michelle McAdorey- Into Her Future
Michelle McAdorey's voice sounds lived in; the byproduct of experiential accumulation of sustenance's repetoire. It is non negotiable how far from fictional her narratives stand: It is clear that these are not extrapolated feelings, or a secondary source of swelling, but rather feelings that emanate right from her own gut's dusty storage room. McAdorey has this way of making flab turbulence feel less daunting, and more manageable, with her steadiness and solidified foundation. Title track "Into Her Future" examines the path ahead for McAdorey. She doesn't try to bargain with time, or turn to implants as a coping mechanism. There is no anti-aging, barb-filled commentary about resisting what is coming her way. Rather, "Into Her Future" is about accepting the changing tide, and learning to not just tread water, but to hone the craft of the swimming strokes in order to exceed coping status. This is music about thriving, and enjoying the process. She brands love as the leader in her life, and puts her faith in connectivity with others. In doing so, she comes to the understanding that life is about loving, and that we are here to love, so she might as well spend her time loving completely and utterly, instead of lamenting the shortfalls and disappointing parts. "Run Into Me Now' is an autoharp fronted number, concerned with the intricacies of reconnecting with a soulmate from your past. It manages to be forward-looking: "Run Into Me Now" is not content to just recollect the butterflies of decades past, and replay the squashed opportunities that such a big love offered. Instead, the tune purposefully focuses on reinventing the relationship to shape it to be compatible with the present tense. It reconfigures the relationship to make it viable with who she and her past beau are now, and draws on the past only to ensure she and her beloved don't make the same mistakes this time around. It takes a special song to be able to be focused on building a future of closeness and trust and depth, while allowing us to be invested in the outcome by depicting a steamy, heartfelt history. "Run Into Me Now" fulfills our romantic and realistic sides at once. "Culvert Jack" finds McAdorey combating against the ease for us to be derailed by pockets of darkness, even during daylight's bright, clear skies. She sings the words "On the shady side of the noon day sun" with a sense of rebellious flare, as if she determined to fight against the expectation of taking steps back to take a single step forward (Michelle McAdorey- Culvert Jack). The song alternates back and forth between throwing a raspy fit, and following though on a recharging detox, lending it variety and character. "Two Tickets" is a countrified, tearful parting from sorrow's clutches. It first strikes you as weepy, and regretful, but as the song goes on, it becomes clear that there are happy tears streaming down: That this is more about welcoming in a new era, and nurturing that era, than bemoaning the expiry date of the outdated field of bygones. "Got two tickets for a bright time/I'm leaving tomorrow/For beginningless time" (Michelle McAdorey- Two Tickets). "Line Across My Heart" is a visionary primer for how to make love last and prevail over the long haul. Coated with a transfixing glaze that is stamped to inner beauty's linear notes, "Line Across My Heart" is full of a yearning itch for commitment that is not second guessed or deteriorated by diverging routes or growth's abominable hiccups. This song is a proponent of speaking up and sharing what's on your mind, constantly providing attention to your partner, and communicating openly in the special language that you and your partner create together. "Line Across My Heart" says that loving harder, and always expressing wholeheartedly how much our partner means to us without holding back are the keys to love's duration. This song simplifies and demystifies love, for those who are confused and misled by all the unfit depictions of love that our society ingrains in us. "Line across my heart/Drawn to straight to your/Wasn't always/Wasn't always/Trembling." (Michelle McAdorey- Line Across My Heart). McAdorey has such a gift of encircling the past's hangovers with the future's promise. Only McAdorey is able to sit the past and the future down to a dinner table together, after estrangement's hardships, and obtain their amicability, not through rehashing what was, but through forging a new start that puts the spotlight on the sparkle of the days and memories to come. Only McAdorey convinces us that we have not yet peaked; that there are plateaus yet to come. Michelle McAdorey's new record "Into Her Future" is the brainchild of love at its most successful. It is a driven and formidable, yet fully achievable and direct guide to building love at its most fluent and functional. McAdorey's "Into Her Future" is a portal to loving and being loved in a way where permanence becomes a tenured faculty member.
Key Track: "Run Into Me Now"
2) Heather Woods Broderick- Glider
Heather Woods Broderick excels at creating unruly astonishment. She conveys what it feels like to be lost in life's bewildering corridors, yet genuinely surprised to be aloof from the solution. This is the sound of direction losing its hold. Broderick's new LP "Glider" is about any perceived notion of found footing winding up as a misnomer. Her music sounds like the process of trying to make sense of the nonsensical. Her songs feel itinerary-free, and stray from the conformity of goal-oriented thinking. Her music reflects the disconcerting decay of disorientation, from the initial onset of abated warning signs, to the perils of being confined to no man's land indefinitely. Her songs themselves are inconsonant and chancy, and thankfully carry the underdone callowness of a proposal more so than the concreteness and fine-tuned polish of a final decision, providing them with an appealingly unsophisticated, erratic wild card engravement. Broderick's voice sweeps with the uneasiness of a balloon floating around with a sort of misleading confidence, considering how the balloon is probable to burst at any moment. "Up in the Pine" shudders like the weathered bark eroding on an aging tree. Broderick turns to the fantastical, youthful leaning of her voice to try to halt the fallout, but the hampered, haggard plummet endures nevertheless. "Up in the Pine" describes the feeling of powerlessness, albeit without the contempt of being a quitter or a loser. The track seems to speak for those scenarios where even putting the best foot forward may not be enough, but it wasn't for a lack of effort. There is a degree of satisfaction present for having tried, but there is also an unrest discord kicking around, because success is not ultimately had. "Mama Shelter" chronicles the esteemed relief that sets in when a hostile storm pauses for a brief but mood uplifting, repercussion-filled sun shower. "Fall Hard" is that crushing case when favourably unforgettable memories in the periphery's vault threaten to taint a relationship's present, and derail a relationship's future. This song is for when you can't live up to the high points procured in your relationship's glory days. Devastating lyrics coact with clunky, burdensome piano to create a weary, ripped aura of regret. "And I can't say it feels good/That I don't know you/When I'm not with you/I don't know you/I'm not near you" (Heather Woods Broderick- Fall Hard). "The Sentiments" begins with Broderick posing a simple question to her partner that she seems to already know the answer to. "Will you tell me if you like the way you're living?/You keep me in the dark" (Heather Woods Broderick- The Sentiments). The song takes us through her journey of asking this question, and then waiting for the unassured, plaintive response that will clearly be revealing traces of dread and disillusionment. "The Sentiments" reflects how the most simplistic matters can end up feeling so much more complicated and drawn out, due to the headstrong attitude of emotion. Beginning with a great sense of legibility (voice and piano presented hygienically), but then gradually overtaken by distortion, jittery rumpus, and a camouflaged vocal, "The Sentiments" is a showcase for how nebulous, blurred and heated emotional ping pong with a significant other can become. "The Sentiments" is a reminder that even if both partners actively try to meet each other in the middle, serving without bombast (a serve made with the best intentions) can still lead to the ball landing out of bounds. "The Sentiments" reminds us that each partner will always have their own way of feeling, thinking and interacting, and efforts should be made in love for barriers to be seen as interruptions and challenges to overcome, instead of the final straw. "Glider" is about facing up to the splotches of paint on your life wall; about learning to see those splotches not naively and unrealistically as enhancements, but also not with serious gripes and disdain. "Glider" is about recognizing the splotches for what they are: splotches....and learning to continue on, splotches and all.
Key Track: "Fall Hard"
1) Monuments and Statues- Fractals
"Fractals" defies its genre pigeonhole, by setting banjos, cellos to counter clockwise grooves that spill the beans on how to live an awakened life led by the leeway of variety and the hand-picked preferences that come from such customization. The voices of Reith (good-humoured, kindly) Bromstad (sharp, almighty) and Barker (sparkling, bright) take turns leading the way, and reflect upon life's zigzag of twists and turns. "Fractals" positions love as life's highest caliber. Lead off track "Oh Great Rose" is an outburst of endearment, set to a cozy, folky melody. "Oh Great Rose" is a keen sounding gust of prosperity. It is an ode to love's right stuff. The song positions love as requiring immense vulnerability and giving, to be a rousing success. Yet, "Oh Great Rose" convincingly claims that real love is incredibly rewarding and worthwhile. Standout track "Speak of the Sea" came to be when the band turned to their former 2009 track "Ghost" for inspiration. What was initially set to be a reworking and update of "Ghost" turned into a musical creation of its own, surprising even its creators in the process. A hazy, ethereal texture is augmented by the flirting of Reith and Bromstad's voices. In its final moments, Reith's voice suddenly stands in isolation. The shift from togetherness to solitariness is chilling, at once alerting us to the commodity of interpersonal connectivity, and the subsequent hole created by the absence of connectivity. "Red Dress" revels in its commitment to motion. It leaps, curves, traquilizes and soars, refusing to be stagnant. Lean percission is employed expertly, infusing the song with just a sliver of propulsion and rhythm for diversity, without compromising the satisfying lush atmosphere. Laura Barker's enticing, angelic coo drops over the twisty, bending instrumentation with purpose, grounding the song, while embodying feeling itself. When Bromstad adds her otherworldly harmonies to the mix, transcendence is achieved. "Spiral Tunnel" is brave. Spawned during a time of great uncertainty, "Spiral Tunnel" is the sound of a bond on the verge of being broken, but there is a refusal to part with possibility, and it is this sense of trust and faith that mediates. Escaping from being an exercise in self deprecation, "Spiral Tunnel" is that rare ballad that aims for resolution. It is a song that believes wholeheartedly in resiliency as a leading tactic for relationship rebirth. "Spiral Tunnel" is proof that disillusionment doesn't have to lead to dispersal. "Catch You" frames love as being the go-to, desert island adventure: if they had to choose one adventure to go on, "Catch You" is their declaration that pursuing love would be it. Catch You" zeroes in on what's most important: love. "Life" is the charged finale. A celebration of human ties, and the way in which we are bound to each other, "Life" is a celebration of the lasting, spiritual, deep glow of friendship love. Laura Barker and Mackenzie Bromstad's voices consort with each other like lifelong buds reminiscing about their shared experiences of yesterday, while whispering their hopes for tomorrow into each others ears, and sharing their secrets of today. "Life" captures the lift of examining past high points, while coming to the exciting realization that a new favourite memory is currently in the works right now as we speak. "Fractals" takes us through life's triumphs, despairs, and challenges, while vetoing silence and advocating activeness. It is the sound of authenticity: the sound of being alive. It is the sound of real, dynamic people navigating the curvy, diverging landscape of life. That the record chooses to revel instead of weep, and embrace instead of shun is a resounding testament to the record's nuanced charm and vivid originality. "Fractals" is my pick for album of the year.
Key Track: "Life"
Sunday 21 February 2016
2015 in music: A Tour
2015 in music: A Tour
I would like to honour the full length albums/EPs released in 2015 that inspired the heck out of me.
24) Annabelle Chvostek- Be the Media (full length)
It's disheartening to me that Annabelle Chvostek is probably still best known for her contributions to The Wailing Jennys's breakthrough album "Firecracker" (2006) almost a decade ago. Since she departed The Wailing Jennys in 2007, Chvostek has released three solo albums, including 2015's severely underrated gem "Be The Media". "Media" finds Chvostek straying from the crisp, refined acoustic folk that usually rules her solo material. She trades her acoustic guitar for an electric, wails instead of whispers, and emancipates her previously censored rock and roll virtuoso within. Her songwriting sounds sharpened here, and her newfound sprawling, up tempo power keeps her music budding. Lyrically, she is as poetic and eloquent as always, this time graciously veering more on the side of the personal (where Chvostek thrives) after 2012's politically heavy LP "Rise." The title track "Be The Media" is flaming and empowering. "This Night" is feel-good. "Black Hole" is sinister. Closer "Say It Right" is sentimental yet invigorated. You Can Come Now", the rare occasion on this collection where she returns to balladry, is her definitive career highlight to date (Jennys work included). It was quietly released, but "Be The Media" is a fascinating work of art that is equally a departure as it is an exhibition of the goods that she's always been carrying.
Key Track: "You Can Come Now"
23) Guster- Evermotion (full length)
After a run of three incalculably esteemed records in the 90s and 2000s that propelled Guster into favourite band status (1999's "Lost and Gone Forever', 2003's "Keep It Together" and 2006's "Ganging Up On the Sun" was an untouchable trio of progress), it was somewhat inevitable that 2010's "Easy Wonderful" would underwhelm me a tad. Indeed,"Easy Wonderful" felt less like the work of the inventive, collaborative band I knew and loved, and more analogous to a Ryan Miller solo project. In my mind, when Guster is winning, they are doing so by utilizing a shared frontman dynamic between Ryan Miller and Adam Gardner, not only so far as vocals are concerned but also in terms of identity and songwriting input. Also, Guster songs at their most successful are at once both celebratory and inhibited. The best Guster tunes grapple with melancholia but manage to present strain in a driving, appreciative-in-spite-of-it-all way. "Easy Wonderful" pushed things a shake too too far in one direction, feeling triumphant and self-congratulatory. With that record, I kept waiting for the usually nippy draft to set in and provide some balance, but unfortunately it didn't. Thankfully, that essential tinge of regret and longing that went MIA last time out comes back in a big way with 2015's "Evermotion". On standout 'It Is Just What It Is", Ryan Miller shares the mic with Adam Gardner almost evenly throughout, proving how beneficial it is when Gardner's role goes beyond that of a utility backup. "Expectation" is somehow classic Guster yet, although it admirably discards thei band's classic sound. It feels reminiscent of the atmospheric pull created by Gusters best album, "Lost and Gone Forever",but it manages to push the group's sound forward by feeling closer to the sonics of electronic music than the guitar led pop that the band is known for. "Kid Dreams" is nostalgic but also fresh. On a lyrical level, it feels like a continuation of "Homecoming King" from "Keep It Together", although instrumentally "Kid Dreams" is much more exploratory and risky. "Evermotion" is easily the best Guster record since "Ganging Up The Sun" came out almost a decade earlier, and it even rivals "Lost and Gone Forever" and "Keep It Together" for the title of the band's towering achievement to date.
Key Track: "It Is Just What It Is"
22) Paula Cole- 7
Paula Cole returned to music in 2007 following an eight year hiatus. Since deciding to make a comeback, she has now quietly released four albums in the last nine years. More significant is that the music that she has released over the last near decade has grown more and more emotionally true and expressive. There is an interesting tension here as her piano narrates her fractures, but her voice carries a newfound tone of comfort and acceptance, as if everything is actually going to be okay now. "New York City" conjures up a synergy of lament and neglect. It is an ode to being passed by, and feeling washed up. "You Will Never Know' is a letter documenting what it feels like to have been thoroughly captivated by another. Lyrically it is concerned with grasping at the straws of unrealized potential. "Puncture Wound" is the best of the lot: it is a crash course in how to healthily deal with anguish, while holding onto that determination to still see everyday as an adventure, even when it feels like your prime time is long over. The greatest strength of "7" is that how unabashedly real it is: The doesn't make promises to bring back 1996. These songs proper because even though they concern themselves with looking back and reflecting on the past, they are willing to go onward and be present. "7" is one of the most rewarding entourages of songs that Cole has written. Cole has always been a superb storyteller, but agreeably, now she is telling her own stories more than ever, in the process redefining the deepness of sensitivity and bottling the wet discomfort of self awareness's spit.
Key Track: "Puncture Wound"
21) Kathryn Calder- self titled
Ever since I heard the devastating shiver of the Calder penned Immaculate Machine palpitation "Statue" (off 2005's "Ones and Zeros"), I longed for more compositions in the same vein from Kathryn. Ten years later, Calder has finally returned to the stormy, disarmingly downcast conditions that spawned "Statue". "Beach" is topped with opaque spice but is the most penetrable piece she has ever written. It carries the moody vibe of a blackout, stripping life down to its most essential essence. In "Beach", there is no battery for the flashlight. It is just unadorned naturalness, without the artifice. Even"Take a Little Time", the grooviest thing on the release, leaves its head bobbing movements for a comfortable seated position during parts of its final third. "Blue Skies" is a comforting, secure shoulder to lean on during the fall, and "Song in Cm" is like the idealistic counselor of empathy that actually listens, and then starts bawling with us so we know there is understanding in play, not just placating at work. This album establishes that Calder's gift is making music that listens to us when we need to spill. Let her album be your sounding board.
Key Track: "Beach"
20) Kris and Dee- A Great Long Game
Hearing Kris Abbott's guitar playing is like inhaling renewal. I feel so exhilarated and free after listening to this! Dee McNeil's spongy, voice soaks up the guff inside your head, and helps you make sense of your next steps. Whether you need reassurance or a reality check, this album will set your mental capacities straight. I spent a day this year listening to "Trembling Aspen" on repeat, and that song was the elixir I needed. "Pilot Light" is deep stuff, and Abbott's guitar solo offers some angularity, and backs up the grind of tough love being issued during "Cold Chisel" is that long awaited place where reality and dreams meet halfway. "A Great Long Game" is an album that asks the universe to be its pen pal. It is a collection willing to intake and embrace the confusion of question marks, while determined to not call off the expedition for answers.
Key Track: "Pilot Light"
19) Evening Hymns- Quiet Energies
Earnestness and sincerity are my favourite two trait in male vocalists. "House of Mirrors" is so open, so vulnerable. Sylvie Smith's harmonies add perfume to these songs."Evil Forces" feels spiritual, and makes me want to be a better person, to run . "Rescue Teams" is troubled and attentive. These are songs that have no interest in caricatures, and photogenic editing. These are songs about truth itself.
Key Track: "House of Mirrors"
18) Great Northern- Tremors
I've been waiting for six years for this album to come out! It has felt like twelve years! 2007's "Trading Twilight for Daylight" really clicked with me. I used to play it day in and out on my summer job bus commutes of 2 hours each way back in the summer of 2008! This album actually somehow made me look forward to the excessive travel time. I also enjoyed 2009's "Remind Me Where the Light Is" too. They've been talking about a third album for years, and it finally was released earlier this year. The very fact of having new music from this band felt like a win in and of itself! They departed from their label, and just worked away for years making the music that spoke to their impulses. That the result of their labour is hands down the finest Great Northern album to date just makes this all feel even sweeter! Rachel Stotle's voice feels so triumphant and energized. When I hear her voice, I feel as though she is sharing some of her keen, animated vibes with me, and that they are translating int moments of activeness and taking charge of my life! The music on this album maintains the band's trademark for making melody sing, but it feels more interesting and developed than ever this time around. "Holes" tells us how to keep things heated and passionate in romance throughout longevity, and Stotle delivers her strongest vocal take ever. "Human" starts out as the quietest song on the record, but it evolves into something so much more pulsating and catchy. "Skin of Our Teeth" is downright thrilling. This is a champion return for one of indie rock's most devastatingly underrated bands!
Key Track: "Human"
17) Damon and Naomi- Fortune
This served as the soundtrack for Naomi Yang's film, but more importantly, it is Damon and Naomi's first full length album since 2011's career highlight "False Beats and True Hearts." With Naomi clearly focusing her creative energy on the film itself, Damon meantime takes control of the album, as it is his still boyish voice for once that takes the lead the most often (usually Naomi leads the way when it comes to vocals). This is also the first Damon and Naomi album since 1998's Playback Singers that doesn't include Michio Kurihara's electric guitar work, lending itself to a much more private, personal sound. "Fortune" is the most acoustic oriented Damon and Naomi album since 2000, which allows the duo's voices to be more up front. When Damon and Naomi align their voices in that mesmerizing, singular harmony, as on standout "Sky Memories", I am reminded of the beauty of each passing millisecond, and of life's quieter moments. While listening to "Sky Memories", time seems to slow down enough to appreciate the finer details, and that is certainly an impressive feat! Damon and Naomi's music is about feeling, and this is one of the most feeling inspired records of their career to date.
Key Track: "Sky Memories"
16) Kathryn Williams- Hypoxia
There is an apocalyptic sense of doom and dread that creeps through "Hypoxia", which is appropriate considering the album was inspired by Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar." Williams employs a much more brash and choppy sound throughout this album than she usually does, and the songs have an unnerving affect, leaving the listener with the unmistakable vibe that something is amiss. Tension is the name of the game throughout "Hypoxia". Williams' voice, which usually comes across as direct and trustworthy, carries a newfound mysterious, deceiving tone, as though she is storytelling more than emoting this time around. She voice sounds weathered by trust misplaced and disappointment, more so than ever before. There is a frantic sigh communicated again and again, as if to warn us of being conned ourselves. Her songwriting feels in line with her previous explorations, but on this record, it feels as though she then went and dipped her compositions in abrasive, rowdy coating. "Mirrors" feels cross and cluttered, and "Cuckoo" feels heavier and more austere than most theatrical productions. It is when Williams' embraces her more hospitable sounding vocal enunciation, and when she focuses on the pastoral breath of her acoustic guitar, that she really shines. The undisturbed, patient character study "Electric" that begins the record, and the grievous, touching tribute "When Nothing Meant Less both perfect the starry-eyed, minimal, delicate wonder that Kathryn Williams has been clarifying since her stunning 1999 debut LP "Dog Leap Stairs"
Key Track: "When Nothing Meant Less"
15) Cynthia G. Mason- Cinematic Turn (EP)
It's funny how this new collection from Cynthia G. Mason succeeds by de-emphasizing the element that I once considered was Mason's greatest gift as a singer/songwriter. When listening to her 2000 self-titled debut, I prized the melancholic ambiance that Mason's songs and voice muster. Surprisingly, my most favourite of the new songs that comprise her latest EP "Cinematic Turn" is the tune that evokes the most dash and . "18th Street" is indeed more driving and upbeat musically than most of Mason's catalogue, with her guitar sounding enterprising and intrepid. As for her voice, while I wouldn't go as far as saying her delivery sounds downright chipper here, there is more wit and evenness, and less weep and depression in "18th Street" than in any other Mason penned song in her fifteen year plus career. Even in "One More Trip Back East", which is a much more solemn offering, she sounds down, but not out. This more levelheaded approach to singing that shows up throughout "Cinematic Turn" dons Mason's songs in cozier sweaters to cope with the ever-nippy conditions endured. Case in point: The melancholia that I used to adore about Mason's music is still around, only this time it's been downgraded to part time status, sharing hours with the sun. Another change for the better: On her previous LP, 2007's "Quitter's Claim", Mason's voice sounded filtrated through the pudgy downfall of a subterranean vent, never landing quite as audibly and amble as I would have hoped. This time, her vocals are presented much more decidedly and distinctly, and this pushes these songs a notch ahead of her past glories.
Key Track: "18th Street"
14) Megan Hamilton- Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings
In an era where singles and hype are all the rage, Megan Hamilton comes through with so much more than a pile of new songs. This is a true album, that plays supremely better as a whole. Historically, Hamilton has utilized storytelling predominantly. But this time, her songwriting output comes from a more autobiographical perspective, which adds undertone and intensity to her songs. Waves of her folk ancestry brush up against the shoreline now and then, but she elects for a few more hooks on this swim. Hamilton utilizes some pop instincts here, and the result is the most sonically riveting and lyrically risky record of her career so far. And just because it sounds best as a whole, we should no discount the standalone strength of individual tracks on this record. "The Violins" is a dreamy number with Hamilton delivering lead vocals that are teary eyed and reflective, yet also shimmering. Her lyrics here are as poetic as ever, and inspired my own writing heavily throughout 2015. The drizzling piano sound that recurs provides musical profundity. The stormier, heartfelt "Late Bloomer" emphasizes how good Hamilton is at convincing the guitar to surprise and enterprise. If Hamilton was previously viewed as an underrated guitarist, a listen to "Late Bloomer" should travel far in altering this perception. This is hypnotizing, boundary pushing music that thrives at expressing the rituals and character of expression itself.
Key Track: "The Violins"
13) Low- Ones and Sixes
Let's get this out of the way: This is a much more grubbier, and rumpled affair than 2013's "The Invisible Way",which was a career high point of theirs. Low albums tend to favour either elegance and beatific connectivity, or chapped, marred existence. On "The Invisible Way", Mimi Parker sang lead vocals on five songs, and the overall tone was more about embracing love rather than disparaging defeat. Now, with "Ones and Sixes", the mood is much more gnarled and the lyrics focus more insistently on frazzled faith. Optimism counts are low here. But the songwriting remains solid, the band's determination to explore shifts in sound does not let up, and this is a very solid record. This is definitely not as affecting an album as 'The Invisible Way", but it is still an important and essential Low album. As expected, Mimi Parker's presence is reduced from her above-average level of contribution to "The Invisible Way." Parker's few lead vocals, including the snug, amicably lifting "Congregation" and the advisory, yet deep-seated "The Innocents" relieve some of the scour from Sparhawk's more menacing turns fronting the band. Sparkhawk isn't without his moments too. His contribution "Lies" is a top-five Low song because of how personal it is: It examines the state of the ever-evolving marriage between between Alan and Mimi in a very forthright way that gets to the bottom of it, without being overtly soapy or unfairly confrontational. The song's middle puts Sparhawk's voice on sabbatical for a time, and Parker belts out some enlightened, perceptive insight with an unprecedented feral sharpness, like a position of authority's crackdown. "Spanish Translation" demonstrates that Low can be messy and intimate at once; that these traits don't have to interfere with each other. Low are certainly at their best when they don't refuse to settle for choosing between beauty and adventure. The best moments of "The Insivible Way" prove that this is a band that can have both, without compromise, when they choose to put in the grunt work necessary to achieve that balancing act.
Key Track: "Lies"
12) Destroyer- Poison Season
When Destroyer fever swept through the music scene like a fad of the year back in early 2011, I was baffled. I mean, Dan Bejar had been making his peculiar, intentionally inaccessible, musically nervy albums for years. Why did people choose "Kaputt" as their point of entrance into the Destroyer fan club? A few years of reflection later, I have stumbled upon some semblance of clarity on this long-puzzling matter. "Kaputt" retained the high quality control that Dan Bejar ensures on every project he attaches his name to, but it is a much more serious album than all others in his discography. "Kaputt" largely abandoned the playfulness and lighthearted vocal intonations that Bejar excels at. If "Kaputt' was his attempt to shirk his banter and ridiculous persona, to see what lay underneath, his latest album "Poison Season" manages to acknowledge the sophistication and melodic advances of "Kaputt" while reintroducing his audience to his archetypal madman-like, overstimulated demeanor. "Bangkok" is a metaphor for this record's award worthy intermingling of sorrow and sass. It starts out sounding like a once-hippie having a pint of nostalgia about his glory days. Sincerity reigns supreme. But then, towards the end of the song, it is as if the hippie decided that he's still got it, and that life is too short to be recounting when he could be out there living it up right now, having the time of his life out on the town. He gets animated again, like a man brought back from the pits of his intended swan song. He sounds reinvigorated and impassioned with his songs, music, and even life itself on "Poison Season", and the record's ability to merge a jubilant spirit with blighted, scorned lyric, set to an outstretched sonic domain, allows "Poison Season" to impress and intrigue in equal measure.
Key Track: "The River"
11) Michael Feuerstack- The Forgettable Truth
There is much fuss made about the aging of musicians. More specifically, there is enormous chatter about how aging affects both songwriting and singing. Many seem to subscribe to the idea that the voices of musicians they love start to deteriorate at a certain point: that time ultimately has its way with voices. Humans postulate that the music that their favourite bands made in their youth was punchier and surging with more momentum than the tunes that the same groups make now, approaching or into mid age. Along comes Michael Feuerstack, whom at age 42, has made the record of his life. His voice has deepened, pushing his vocals into a territory where maturity and heartthrob sensory meet halfway. Females will swoon at his expressive, at times sensual delivery, and males will marvel how macho it is to be acing your own craft. His music sounds more avant-garde here than ever before. He has a greater sense of insight into his strengths and limitations, so he is freer to experiment and diversify the soundscape. He boldly changes up some of his signature moves, while also completing and actualizing other musical and lyrical approaches and quests that he has spent decades building towards. He allows himself to admirably smirk at his bristol board of experiences and be more secure and self-assured with his customized style of befriending wit and deliberation . His music has accumulated an extra helping of insight and wisdom since his days fronting his former Snailhouse. "Glacier Love" initially plays as a fluid and stable river with its smooth, linear foams of guitar, but further listens reveal a certain inscrutable, sphinxlike state of nebulousness. Veiled dimness leak underneath the pleasant interior of Feuerstack's songs. He sounds vehement and desperate throughout "The Forgettable Truth": Vehement from having the strength and lessons of two decades in music to pull from, and yet as desperate and pleading to make beautiful art as the first timer just starting out a career. Anyone not yet convinced that age is just a number as far as musicians are concerned need to hear this record. I liked his past work, but on "The Forgettable Truth", Feuerstack puts it all together and delivers his magnum opus. This is work worth loving. This is work that is lovable.
Key Track: "Glacier Love"
10) Dave Rawlings Machine- Nashville Obsolete
I used to look down on simplicity. I held the firm opinion that as far as music was concerned, effortless sounding songs detracted from quality. The easier and more basic a song sounded, the more I would shun that song. I didn't adopt this mindset because I was obsessive compulsive with achieving some kind of hipster, indie cred. Rather, I was impressed by creativity, by shifts, and by departures from the niches of beloved artists. I was so adamant for so long that success in music was bound up with complexity. I credit "Nashville Obsolete", the new Dave Rawlings Machine album, with convincing me that an artist doesn't have to be an experimental daredevil to make extraordinary music. "The Weekend" feels timeless. It has no interest in studio gags. It is almost entirely built upon voice and guitar. This song is so focused. The playing is so tight. The harmonies are spot on, so intertwined. "Short Haired Woman Blues" is pulled off because Rawlings is one of the most talented guitarists on the planet. It's got a secretive, jittery quality to it instrumentally, thanks to Rawlings decision to abandoning melody abruptly. But the dissonance never usurps the pleasurable sense of belonging that Rawlings' songs instills in the listener. Rawling's voice plays like that of a father figure utilizing his protective instincts, ensuring your safety and security no matter what comes next. It's a comforting feeling, hearing his altruistic sounding, nurturing voice advise you against falling for a quick fix, and encouraging you to hold out for something substantial in the relationship realm. "The Trip" positions Rawlings as an wordsmith to revere. He maximizes the impact of the English language at its most straightforward. A mid song guitar solo in an eleven minute long song would ordinarily scream over-indulgence, but here it is a welcomed surprise. When Gillian Welch joins in on the song's chorus, the beauty here is beyond compare. "Nashville Obsolete" is an elite reminder of the charms of being flash-free. It is an ode to the feel-good vibes that can only come when zeroing in on real, face-to-face communication. "Nashville Obsolete" rolls its eyes at technology's imprint of rush and impatience in modern society, and then lines up for a reservation- free dinner with some old friends. This album is like a night of good old fashioned conversation in a room, where cellphones are left at home. Laughing in a room with people you love never gets old, and "Nashville Obsolete" boldly pronounces that neither does the craft of writing great songs inspired more by the tradition of truth than by tricks wrapped in musical tinsel.
Key Track: "The Trip"
9) Heather Nova- The Way it Feels
"The Way it Feels" resonates because of the resistance it puts up towards finality. Written during the final act of her marriage, "The Way it Feels" finds Nova clinging to the possibility of an uptick and refuses to completely give up on her relationship. Even as the reasons to remain upbeat continue to diminish, and even as mourning fills her mornings, she sings like her fate has yet not been sealed, like there is still a verdict to be made. "The Way it Feels" makes the lowest odds still feel salvageable. Nova has this gift of communicating the possibility of light, and betting on optimism's leadership, even when the sun is setting. Whether through her no frills "tell-it-like-it-is" lyricism that never beats around the bush, or her visually depicting, brimful easel of sonic brio, Heather Nova's songs manage to prize the unsymmetrical times of life, long enough to feel something true and meaningful. Her music and words playfully splash in a puddle of dampened dreams. Her work positions the dumps as a long term funk, rather than a surrender, and "The Way it Feels" shows us how to compartmentalize life through the same filter. "The Way it Feels" is Heather Nova's strongest set of songs since her 1998 heydey "Siren". Fitted in production choices that land her in the most seemly compromise imaginable between her indie-like, DIY vision and her big league talents, and containing some of the most memorable storytelling and personal postscripts I've heard this year, Heather Nova's "The Way it Feels" is an applause garnering tour guide of feeling itself. The encore rewards here are eternal.
Key Track: "This Humanness"
8) Belle and Sebastian- Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance
Having multiple songwriters in the same band allows for added opportunity for that band to have a more assorted, wider ranging identity. It is so much more interesting to me when a band's identity gets to be extended beyond the vision of one leader. So naturally, it is a shame in my mind that when people think of the band Belle and Sebastian, their thoughts land unequivocally on frontman Stuart Murdoch. Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance", the new Belle and Sebastian record, is a full throttle indicator of how much this band deserves to be viewed as a legitimate group, rather than merely just a vehicle for Stuart Murdoch's music making. Sarah Martin has playing violin in Belle and Sebastian since 1996, and contributing songs to the group since 2000. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" places Martin in a much more primary role, as she sings lead on album highlights "The Power Of Three" (which is a dreamy, theatrical pop song with brazen, personally charged lyrics) and "The Book Of You" (a rowdy, agile tune with a catchy chorus, and a roaring charm). Sarah Martin's voice is also so well suited to harmonizing with Stuart Murdoch's, as evident by the romanticized thrill ride known as "The Everlasting Muse", appearing mid album. "Enter Sylvia Plath" makes me want to put on some blue suede shoes, and hit the dance floor for days, and once again here, Sarah Martin receives a moment to shine, delivering a mesmerizing vocal solo halfway through that alters the landscape of the entire song. Stuart Murdoch's opener "Nobody's Empire" is billed everywhere as the most personal song he has ever written. It is at once the quintessential, classic Belle and Sebastian song, yet also moves the group's sound forward by possessing hints of show tune pizzazz, incorporating gospel like backing vocals at times, and experimenting with a much greater use of the piano than most songs in the band's discography can attest to. "Ever Had a Little Faith?" is the idealistic metaphor for how together is better with Belle and Sebastian. Originally written in and around 1996, my favourite moment in the track is when Stevie Jackson and Stuart Murdoch combine their voices. It's one of the few times in a twenty year career where both Jackson and Murdoch sing together. The moment feels reminiscent of male bonding at its finest: of two men who have experienced two decades of touring and recording alongside one another, yet seem to be the opposite of sick of one another. As if that isn't enough, in swoops the voice of Sarah Martin during the song's final quarter, softening Murdoch's sorrow with her waves of femininity, and her zen-like sensuality. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" thrives because of it's ability to adequately capture, for the first time, the hefty talents of Stuart Murdoch's cohorts. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" makes it clear that if Stuart Murdoch is "Sebastian" in Belle and Sebastian, Sarah Martin and Stevie Jackson have now finally earned their claim to being "Belle".
Key Track: "Ever Had a Little Faith?
7) Johanna Warren- numun
Listening to numun, I am now able to distinguish between having proficiency with an instrument, and being in command of an instrument. Johanna Warren has complete, utter command of her guitar. Throughout this record, she demands her guitar to re-enact the jolts and jumps of her most innate brain activity, and her guitar obliges resoundingly. Warren's guitar playing bravely takes the listener on an extended hike through her realities. Her guitar navigates the choppiest and messiest junctures of life; this is no quest to soften the blow. Warren possesses the intuition and gentleness of a non traditional healer. She taps into the vibes of well-being through spiritual rituals and via the forces of the natural world. Warren's words are often swollen with the ripple effect of peacemaking with your most non ideal, hard to swallow realizations. It is so challenging to acknowledge your areas that require improvement in life, yet acknowledging your imperfections allows for growth. Warren recognizes that sometimes you need to feel what you're feeling, before you can feel better. "No more trying/Let's sit and stare/at the indescribable deep despair" (Johanna Warren- Found I Lost). The encouraging slant of her guitar work allows her music to feel rejuvenating and refreshing, more so than cold and self-effacing. It is more normal than not for singers to impose a theatrical presence on their vocalizations. It is a typical move for singers to emphasize the emotions they are trying to convey to an emphatic, drawn-out degree, like actors trying to inspire a certain type of reaction to the character they are portraying. But when Johanna Warren sings, there is no overdosing on emotional stakes. There is no intentional presentation to provoke a certain mindset in her listeners. Warren doesn't sing like she means it. She just sings and we know it's real. No convincing required.
Key Track: Found I Lost
6) Corrina Repp- The Pattern of Electricity
In 2001, Corrina Repp gave us a heartbreaking record called I Take On Your Days, which documented stomped on hearts, the outs of endings, and tears having their way. After following "I Take On Your Days" with a pair of more outward looking, less personal solo records, and a stint in the band Tu Fawning, Repp finally returns to providing play by play commentary of her heart's quest for transcendence. Her new solo record 'The Pattern of Electricity" is full of the type of intimate self portraits of sound and musings on domestication's undoing that made her 2001 LP such a prized possession. Written and recorded following a breakup, "The Pattern of Electricity" finds Repp yelping more than sighing, and creating a more full-blown eruption of sound from the foundations of her minimalist sonic sketches. If her 2001 album "I Take On Your Days" is the sound of love being negated with a subtle slip, and the mournful, reflective pondering that results, her 2015 record "The Pattern of Electricity" takes a more fiery, rebellious approach to coping with a flameout. Lyrically, throughout "The Pattern of Electricity", Repp refuses to make one-sided accusations. She does not pass the blame like a hot potato. While "I Take On Your Days" is about ruminating on what went wrong, "The Pattern of Electricity" is more invested in course correction, and learning from the disappointments encountered in her now defunct relationship. "The Pattern of Electricity" is a compromise between the panic of chaos, and the serenity of morning glory, before the guttural cracks awaken. Every so often, Repp transfixes us with a cameo of that low, whispery tone of voice that is as humane and settling, as it is extra-terrestrial and confounding. Closer "In the Dark, You're More Colorful" opens with acoustic guitar and Repp's voice floating lightly, gracefully. The electric guitar later kicks in, as her voice grows grows more provoked and ruffled. The tidy beginning morphs into a rude awakening, like being pulled out of a snug sleep into the untamed, unsafe ruins of living. Repp's magic lies in somehow making a rude awakening feel like a wake up call. Repp tears down hope, only to then acknowledge the benefits of starting anew, and building from the ground up. Thankfully, her new concoctions remember and celebrate the blueprints of yore. Repp reminds us throughout "The Pattern of Electricity that a clean slate doesn't have to always mean a clean break.
Key Track: In the Dark, You're More Colorful
5) Rachel Garlin- Wink at July
Rachel Garlin rummages through the recycling bin of life's small scale, reserved moments, and collects their charms, causing us to re-evaluate their worth. Garlin
I would like to honour the full length albums/EPs released in 2015 that inspired the heck out of me.
24) Annabelle Chvostek- Be the Media (full length)
It's disheartening to me that Annabelle Chvostek is probably still best known for her contributions to The Wailing Jennys's breakthrough album "Firecracker" (2006) almost a decade ago. Since she departed The Wailing Jennys in 2007, Chvostek has released three solo albums, including 2015's severely underrated gem "Be The Media". "Media" finds Chvostek straying from the crisp, refined acoustic folk that usually rules her solo material. She trades her acoustic guitar for an electric, wails instead of whispers, and emancipates her previously censored rock and roll virtuoso within. Her songwriting sounds sharpened here, and her newfound sprawling, up tempo power keeps her music budding. Lyrically, she is as poetic and eloquent as always, this time graciously veering more on the side of the personal (where Chvostek thrives) after 2012's politically heavy LP "Rise." The title track "Be The Media" is flaming and empowering. "This Night" is feel-good. "Black Hole" is sinister. Closer "Say It Right" is sentimental yet invigorated. You Can Come Now", the rare occasion on this collection where she returns to balladry, is her definitive career highlight to date (Jennys work included). It was quietly released, but "Be The Media" is a fascinating work of art that is equally a departure as it is an exhibition of the goods that she's always been carrying.
Key Track: "You Can Come Now"
23) Guster- Evermotion (full length)
After a run of three incalculably esteemed records in the 90s and 2000s that propelled Guster into favourite band status (1999's "Lost and Gone Forever', 2003's "Keep It Together" and 2006's "Ganging Up On the Sun" was an untouchable trio of progress), it was somewhat inevitable that 2010's "Easy Wonderful" would underwhelm me a tad. Indeed,"Easy Wonderful" felt less like the work of the inventive, collaborative band I knew and loved, and more analogous to a Ryan Miller solo project. In my mind, when Guster is winning, they are doing so by utilizing a shared frontman dynamic between Ryan Miller and Adam Gardner, not only so far as vocals are concerned but also in terms of identity and songwriting input. Also, Guster songs at their most successful are at once both celebratory and inhibited. The best Guster tunes grapple with melancholia but manage to present strain in a driving, appreciative-in-spite-of-it-all way. "Easy Wonderful" pushed things a shake too too far in one direction, feeling triumphant and self-congratulatory. With that record, I kept waiting for the usually nippy draft to set in and provide some balance, but unfortunately it didn't. Thankfully, that essential tinge of regret and longing that went MIA last time out comes back in a big way with 2015's "Evermotion". On standout 'It Is Just What It Is", Ryan Miller shares the mic with Adam Gardner almost evenly throughout, proving how beneficial it is when Gardner's role goes beyond that of a utility backup. "Expectation" is somehow classic Guster yet, although it admirably discards thei band's classic sound. It feels reminiscent of the atmospheric pull created by Gusters best album, "Lost and Gone Forever",but it manages to push the group's sound forward by feeling closer to the sonics of electronic music than the guitar led pop that the band is known for. "Kid Dreams" is nostalgic but also fresh. On a lyrical level, it feels like a continuation of "Homecoming King" from "Keep It Together", although instrumentally "Kid Dreams" is much more exploratory and risky. "Evermotion" is easily the best Guster record since "Ganging Up The Sun" came out almost a decade earlier, and it even rivals "Lost and Gone Forever" and "Keep It Together" for the title of the band's towering achievement to date.
Key Track: "It Is Just What It Is"
22) Paula Cole- 7
Paula Cole returned to music in 2007 following an eight year hiatus. Since deciding to make a comeback, she has now quietly released four albums in the last nine years. More significant is that the music that she has released over the last near decade has grown more and more emotionally true and expressive. There is an interesting tension here as her piano narrates her fractures, but her voice carries a newfound tone of comfort and acceptance, as if everything is actually going to be okay now. "New York City" conjures up a synergy of lament and neglect. It is an ode to being passed by, and feeling washed up. "You Will Never Know' is a letter documenting what it feels like to have been thoroughly captivated by another. Lyrically it is concerned with grasping at the straws of unrealized potential. "Puncture Wound" is the best of the lot: it is a crash course in how to healthily deal with anguish, while holding onto that determination to still see everyday as an adventure, even when it feels like your prime time is long over. The greatest strength of "7" is that how unabashedly real it is: The doesn't make promises to bring back 1996. These songs proper because even though they concern themselves with looking back and reflecting on the past, they are willing to go onward and be present. "7" is one of the most rewarding entourages of songs that Cole has written. Cole has always been a superb storyteller, but agreeably, now she is telling her own stories more than ever, in the process redefining the deepness of sensitivity and bottling the wet discomfort of self awareness's spit.
Key Track: "Puncture Wound"
21) Kathryn Calder- self titled
Ever since I heard the devastating shiver of the Calder penned Immaculate Machine palpitation "Statue" (off 2005's "Ones and Zeros"), I longed for more compositions in the same vein from Kathryn. Ten years later, Calder has finally returned to the stormy, disarmingly downcast conditions that spawned "Statue". "Beach" is topped with opaque spice but is the most penetrable piece she has ever written. It carries the moody vibe of a blackout, stripping life down to its most essential essence. In "Beach", there is no battery for the flashlight. It is just unadorned naturalness, without the artifice. Even"Take a Little Time", the grooviest thing on the release, leaves its head bobbing movements for a comfortable seated position during parts of its final third. "Blue Skies" is a comforting, secure shoulder to lean on during the fall, and "Song in Cm" is like the idealistic counselor of empathy that actually listens, and then starts bawling with us so we know there is understanding in play, not just placating at work. This album establishes that Calder's gift is making music that listens to us when we need to spill. Let her album be your sounding board.
Key Track: "Beach"
20) Kris and Dee- A Great Long Game
Hearing Kris Abbott's guitar playing is like inhaling renewal. I feel so exhilarated and free after listening to this! Dee McNeil's spongy, voice soaks up the guff inside your head, and helps you make sense of your next steps. Whether you need reassurance or a reality check, this album will set your mental capacities straight. I spent a day this year listening to "Trembling Aspen" on repeat, and that song was the elixir I needed. "Pilot Light" is deep stuff, and Abbott's guitar solo offers some angularity, and backs up the grind of tough love being issued during "Cold Chisel" is that long awaited place where reality and dreams meet halfway. "A Great Long Game" is an album that asks the universe to be its pen pal. It is a collection willing to intake and embrace the confusion of question marks, while determined to not call off the expedition for answers.
Key Track: "Pilot Light"
19) Evening Hymns- Quiet Energies
Earnestness and sincerity are my favourite two trait in male vocalists. "House of Mirrors" is so open, so vulnerable. Sylvie Smith's harmonies add perfume to these songs."Evil Forces" feels spiritual, and makes me want to be a better person, to run . "Rescue Teams" is troubled and attentive. These are songs that have no interest in caricatures, and photogenic editing. These are songs about truth itself.
Key Track: "House of Mirrors"
18) Great Northern- Tremors
I've been waiting for six years for this album to come out! It has felt like twelve years! 2007's "Trading Twilight for Daylight" really clicked with me. I used to play it day in and out on my summer job bus commutes of 2 hours each way back in the summer of 2008! This album actually somehow made me look forward to the excessive travel time. I also enjoyed 2009's "Remind Me Where the Light Is" too. They've been talking about a third album for years, and it finally was released earlier this year. The very fact of having new music from this band felt like a win in and of itself! They departed from their label, and just worked away for years making the music that spoke to their impulses. That the result of their labour is hands down the finest Great Northern album to date just makes this all feel even sweeter! Rachel Stotle's voice feels so triumphant and energized. When I hear her voice, I feel as though she is sharing some of her keen, animated vibes with me, and that they are translating int moments of activeness and taking charge of my life! The music on this album maintains the band's trademark for making melody sing, but it feels more interesting and developed than ever this time around. "Holes" tells us how to keep things heated and passionate in romance throughout longevity, and Stotle delivers her strongest vocal take ever. "Human" starts out as the quietest song on the record, but it evolves into something so much more pulsating and catchy. "Skin of Our Teeth" is downright thrilling. This is a champion return for one of indie rock's most devastatingly underrated bands!
Key Track: "Human"
17) Damon and Naomi- Fortune
This served as the soundtrack for Naomi Yang's film, but more importantly, it is Damon and Naomi's first full length album since 2011's career highlight "False Beats and True Hearts." With Naomi clearly focusing her creative energy on the film itself, Damon meantime takes control of the album, as it is his still boyish voice for once that takes the lead the most often (usually Naomi leads the way when it comes to vocals). This is also the first Damon and Naomi album since 1998's Playback Singers that doesn't include Michio Kurihara's electric guitar work, lending itself to a much more private, personal sound. "Fortune" is the most acoustic oriented Damon and Naomi album since 2000, which allows the duo's voices to be more up front. When Damon and Naomi align their voices in that mesmerizing, singular harmony, as on standout "Sky Memories", I am reminded of the beauty of each passing millisecond, and of life's quieter moments. While listening to "Sky Memories", time seems to slow down enough to appreciate the finer details, and that is certainly an impressive feat! Damon and Naomi's music is about feeling, and this is one of the most feeling inspired records of their career to date.
Key Track: "Sky Memories"
16) Kathryn Williams- Hypoxia
There is an apocalyptic sense of doom and dread that creeps through "Hypoxia", which is appropriate considering the album was inspired by Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar." Williams employs a much more brash and choppy sound throughout this album than she usually does, and the songs have an unnerving affect, leaving the listener with the unmistakable vibe that something is amiss. Tension is the name of the game throughout "Hypoxia". Williams' voice, which usually comes across as direct and trustworthy, carries a newfound mysterious, deceiving tone, as though she is storytelling more than emoting this time around. She voice sounds weathered by trust misplaced and disappointment, more so than ever before. There is a frantic sigh communicated again and again, as if to warn us of being conned ourselves. Her songwriting feels in line with her previous explorations, but on this record, it feels as though she then went and dipped her compositions in abrasive, rowdy coating. "Mirrors" feels cross and cluttered, and "Cuckoo" feels heavier and more austere than most theatrical productions. It is when Williams' embraces her more hospitable sounding vocal enunciation, and when she focuses on the pastoral breath of her acoustic guitar, that she really shines. The undisturbed, patient character study "Electric" that begins the record, and the grievous, touching tribute "When Nothing Meant Less both perfect the starry-eyed, minimal, delicate wonder that Kathryn Williams has been clarifying since her stunning 1999 debut LP "Dog Leap Stairs"
Key Track: "When Nothing Meant Less"
15) Cynthia G. Mason- Cinematic Turn (EP)
It's funny how this new collection from Cynthia G. Mason succeeds by de-emphasizing the element that I once considered was Mason's greatest gift as a singer/songwriter. When listening to her 2000 self-titled debut, I prized the melancholic ambiance that Mason's songs and voice muster. Surprisingly, my most favourite of the new songs that comprise her latest EP "Cinematic Turn" is the tune that evokes the most dash and . "18th Street" is indeed more driving and upbeat musically than most of Mason's catalogue, with her guitar sounding enterprising and intrepid. As for her voice, while I wouldn't go as far as saying her delivery sounds downright chipper here, there is more wit and evenness, and less weep and depression in "18th Street" than in any other Mason penned song in her fifteen year plus career. Even in "One More Trip Back East", which is a much more solemn offering, she sounds down, but not out. This more levelheaded approach to singing that shows up throughout "Cinematic Turn" dons Mason's songs in cozier sweaters to cope with the ever-nippy conditions endured. Case in point: The melancholia that I used to adore about Mason's music is still around, only this time it's been downgraded to part time status, sharing hours with the sun. Another change for the better: On her previous LP, 2007's "Quitter's Claim", Mason's voice sounded filtrated through the pudgy downfall of a subterranean vent, never landing quite as audibly and amble as I would have hoped. This time, her vocals are presented much more decidedly and distinctly, and this pushes these songs a notch ahead of her past glories.
Key Track: "18th Street"
14) Megan Hamilton- Forty Warm Streams to Lead Your Wings
In an era where singles and hype are all the rage, Megan Hamilton comes through with so much more than a pile of new songs. This is a true album, that plays supremely better as a whole. Historically, Hamilton has utilized storytelling predominantly. But this time, her songwriting output comes from a more autobiographical perspective, which adds undertone and intensity to her songs. Waves of her folk ancestry brush up against the shoreline now and then, but she elects for a few more hooks on this swim. Hamilton utilizes some pop instincts here, and the result is the most sonically riveting and lyrically risky record of her career so far. And just because it sounds best as a whole, we should no discount the standalone strength of individual tracks on this record. "The Violins" is a dreamy number with Hamilton delivering lead vocals that are teary eyed and reflective, yet also shimmering. Her lyrics here are as poetic as ever, and inspired my own writing heavily throughout 2015. The drizzling piano sound that recurs provides musical profundity. The stormier, heartfelt "Late Bloomer" emphasizes how good Hamilton is at convincing the guitar to surprise and enterprise. If Hamilton was previously viewed as an underrated guitarist, a listen to "Late Bloomer" should travel far in altering this perception. This is hypnotizing, boundary pushing music that thrives at expressing the rituals and character of expression itself.
Key Track: "The Violins"
13) Low- Ones and Sixes
Let's get this out of the way: This is a much more grubbier, and rumpled affair than 2013's "The Invisible Way",which was a career high point of theirs. Low albums tend to favour either elegance and beatific connectivity, or chapped, marred existence. On "The Invisible Way", Mimi Parker sang lead vocals on five songs, and the overall tone was more about embracing love rather than disparaging defeat. Now, with "Ones and Sixes", the mood is much more gnarled and the lyrics focus more insistently on frazzled faith. Optimism counts are low here. But the songwriting remains solid, the band's determination to explore shifts in sound does not let up, and this is a very solid record. This is definitely not as affecting an album as 'The Invisible Way", but it is still an important and essential Low album. As expected, Mimi Parker's presence is reduced from her above-average level of contribution to "The Invisible Way." Parker's few lead vocals, including the snug, amicably lifting "Congregation" and the advisory, yet deep-seated "The Innocents" relieve some of the scour from Sparhawk's more menacing turns fronting the band. Sparkhawk isn't without his moments too. His contribution "Lies" is a top-five Low song because of how personal it is: It examines the state of the ever-evolving marriage between between Alan and Mimi in a very forthright way that gets to the bottom of it, without being overtly soapy or unfairly confrontational. The song's middle puts Sparhawk's voice on sabbatical for a time, and Parker belts out some enlightened, perceptive insight with an unprecedented feral sharpness, like a position of authority's crackdown. "Spanish Translation" demonstrates that Low can be messy and intimate at once; that these traits don't have to interfere with each other. Low are certainly at their best when they don't refuse to settle for choosing between beauty and adventure. The best moments of "The Insivible Way" prove that this is a band that can have both, without compromise, when they choose to put in the grunt work necessary to achieve that balancing act.
Key Track: "Lies"
12) Destroyer- Poison Season
When Destroyer fever swept through the music scene like a fad of the year back in early 2011, I was baffled. I mean, Dan Bejar had been making his peculiar, intentionally inaccessible, musically nervy albums for years. Why did people choose "Kaputt" as their point of entrance into the Destroyer fan club? A few years of reflection later, I have stumbled upon some semblance of clarity on this long-puzzling matter. "Kaputt" retained the high quality control that Dan Bejar ensures on every project he attaches his name to, but it is a much more serious album than all others in his discography. "Kaputt" largely abandoned the playfulness and lighthearted vocal intonations that Bejar excels at. If "Kaputt' was his attempt to shirk his banter and ridiculous persona, to see what lay underneath, his latest album "Poison Season" manages to acknowledge the sophistication and melodic advances of "Kaputt" while reintroducing his audience to his archetypal madman-like, overstimulated demeanor. "Bangkok" is a metaphor for this record's award worthy intermingling of sorrow and sass. It starts out sounding like a once-hippie having a pint of nostalgia about his glory days. Sincerity reigns supreme. But then, towards the end of the song, it is as if the hippie decided that he's still got it, and that life is too short to be recounting when he could be out there living it up right now, having the time of his life out on the town. He gets animated again, like a man brought back from the pits of his intended swan song. He sounds reinvigorated and impassioned with his songs, music, and even life itself on "Poison Season", and the record's ability to merge a jubilant spirit with blighted, scorned lyric, set to an outstretched sonic domain, allows "Poison Season" to impress and intrigue in equal measure.
Key Track: "The River"
11) Michael Feuerstack- The Forgettable Truth
There is much fuss made about the aging of musicians. More specifically, there is enormous chatter about how aging affects both songwriting and singing. Many seem to subscribe to the idea that the voices of musicians they love start to deteriorate at a certain point: that time ultimately has its way with voices. Humans postulate that the music that their favourite bands made in their youth was punchier and surging with more momentum than the tunes that the same groups make now, approaching or into mid age. Along comes Michael Feuerstack, whom at age 42, has made the record of his life. His voice has deepened, pushing his vocals into a territory where maturity and heartthrob sensory meet halfway. Females will swoon at his expressive, at times sensual delivery, and males will marvel how macho it is to be acing your own craft. His music sounds more avant-garde here than ever before. He has a greater sense of insight into his strengths and limitations, so he is freer to experiment and diversify the soundscape. He boldly changes up some of his signature moves, while also completing and actualizing other musical and lyrical approaches and quests that he has spent decades building towards. He allows himself to admirably smirk at his bristol board of experiences and be more secure and self-assured with his customized style of befriending wit and deliberation . His music has accumulated an extra helping of insight and wisdom since his days fronting his former Snailhouse. "Glacier Love" initially plays as a fluid and stable river with its smooth, linear foams of guitar, but further listens reveal a certain inscrutable, sphinxlike state of nebulousness. Veiled dimness leak underneath the pleasant interior of Feuerstack's songs. He sounds vehement and desperate throughout "The Forgettable Truth": Vehement from having the strength and lessons of two decades in music to pull from, and yet as desperate and pleading to make beautiful art as the first timer just starting out a career. Anyone not yet convinced that age is just a number as far as musicians are concerned need to hear this record. I liked his past work, but on "The Forgettable Truth", Feuerstack puts it all together and delivers his magnum opus. This is work worth loving. This is work that is lovable.
Key Track: "Glacier Love"
10) Dave Rawlings Machine- Nashville Obsolete
I used to look down on simplicity. I held the firm opinion that as far as music was concerned, effortless sounding songs detracted from quality. The easier and more basic a song sounded, the more I would shun that song. I didn't adopt this mindset because I was obsessive compulsive with achieving some kind of hipster, indie cred. Rather, I was impressed by creativity, by shifts, and by departures from the niches of beloved artists. I was so adamant for so long that success in music was bound up with complexity. I credit "Nashville Obsolete", the new Dave Rawlings Machine album, with convincing me that an artist doesn't have to be an experimental daredevil to make extraordinary music. "The Weekend" feels timeless. It has no interest in studio gags. It is almost entirely built upon voice and guitar. This song is so focused. The playing is so tight. The harmonies are spot on, so intertwined. "Short Haired Woman Blues" is pulled off because Rawlings is one of the most talented guitarists on the planet. It's got a secretive, jittery quality to it instrumentally, thanks to Rawlings decision to abandoning melody abruptly. But the dissonance never usurps the pleasurable sense of belonging that Rawlings' songs instills in the listener. Rawling's voice plays like that of a father figure utilizing his protective instincts, ensuring your safety and security no matter what comes next. It's a comforting feeling, hearing his altruistic sounding, nurturing voice advise you against falling for a quick fix, and encouraging you to hold out for something substantial in the relationship realm. "The Trip" positions Rawlings as an wordsmith to revere. He maximizes the impact of the English language at its most straightforward. A mid song guitar solo in an eleven minute long song would ordinarily scream over-indulgence, but here it is a welcomed surprise. When Gillian Welch joins in on the song's chorus, the beauty here is beyond compare. "Nashville Obsolete" is an elite reminder of the charms of being flash-free. It is an ode to the feel-good vibes that can only come when zeroing in on real, face-to-face communication. "Nashville Obsolete" rolls its eyes at technology's imprint of rush and impatience in modern society, and then lines up for a reservation- free dinner with some old friends. This album is like a night of good old fashioned conversation in a room, where cellphones are left at home. Laughing in a room with people you love never gets old, and "Nashville Obsolete" boldly pronounces that neither does the craft of writing great songs inspired more by the tradition of truth than by tricks wrapped in musical tinsel.
Key Track: "The Trip"
9) Heather Nova- The Way it Feels
"The Way it Feels" resonates because of the resistance it puts up towards finality. Written during the final act of her marriage, "The Way it Feels" finds Nova clinging to the possibility of an uptick and refuses to completely give up on her relationship. Even as the reasons to remain upbeat continue to diminish, and even as mourning fills her mornings, she sings like her fate has yet not been sealed, like there is still a verdict to be made. "The Way it Feels" makes the lowest odds still feel salvageable. Nova has this gift of communicating the possibility of light, and betting on optimism's leadership, even when the sun is setting. Whether through her no frills "tell-it-like-it-is" lyricism that never beats around the bush, or her visually depicting, brimful easel of sonic brio, Heather Nova's songs manage to prize the unsymmetrical times of life, long enough to feel something true and meaningful. Her music and words playfully splash in a puddle of dampened dreams. Her work positions the dumps as a long term funk, rather than a surrender, and "The Way it Feels" shows us how to compartmentalize life through the same filter. "The Way it Feels" is Heather Nova's strongest set of songs since her 1998 heydey "Siren". Fitted in production choices that land her in the most seemly compromise imaginable between her indie-like, DIY vision and her big league talents, and containing some of the most memorable storytelling and personal postscripts I've heard this year, Heather Nova's "The Way it Feels" is an applause garnering tour guide of feeling itself. The encore rewards here are eternal.
Key Track: "This Humanness"
8) Belle and Sebastian- Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance
Having multiple songwriters in the same band allows for added opportunity for that band to have a more assorted, wider ranging identity. It is so much more interesting to me when a band's identity gets to be extended beyond the vision of one leader. So naturally, it is a shame in my mind that when people think of the band Belle and Sebastian, their thoughts land unequivocally on frontman Stuart Murdoch. Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance", the new Belle and Sebastian record, is a full throttle indicator of how much this band deserves to be viewed as a legitimate group, rather than merely just a vehicle for Stuart Murdoch's music making. Sarah Martin has playing violin in Belle and Sebastian since 1996, and contributing songs to the group since 2000. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" places Martin in a much more primary role, as she sings lead on album highlights "The Power Of Three" (which is a dreamy, theatrical pop song with brazen, personally charged lyrics) and "The Book Of You" (a rowdy, agile tune with a catchy chorus, and a roaring charm). Sarah Martin's voice is also so well suited to harmonizing with Stuart Murdoch's, as evident by the romanticized thrill ride known as "The Everlasting Muse", appearing mid album. "Enter Sylvia Plath" makes me want to put on some blue suede shoes, and hit the dance floor for days, and once again here, Sarah Martin receives a moment to shine, delivering a mesmerizing vocal solo halfway through that alters the landscape of the entire song. Stuart Murdoch's opener "Nobody's Empire" is billed everywhere as the most personal song he has ever written. It is at once the quintessential, classic Belle and Sebastian song, yet also moves the group's sound forward by possessing hints of show tune pizzazz, incorporating gospel like backing vocals at times, and experimenting with a much greater use of the piano than most songs in the band's discography can attest to. "Ever Had a Little Faith?" is the idealistic metaphor for how together is better with Belle and Sebastian. Originally written in and around 1996, my favourite moment in the track is when Stevie Jackson and Stuart Murdoch combine their voices. It's one of the few times in a twenty year career where both Jackson and Murdoch sing together. The moment feels reminiscent of male bonding at its finest: of two men who have experienced two decades of touring and recording alongside one another, yet seem to be the opposite of sick of one another. As if that isn't enough, in swoops the voice of Sarah Martin during the song's final quarter, softening Murdoch's sorrow with her waves of femininity, and her zen-like sensuality. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" thrives because of it's ability to adequately capture, for the first time, the hefty talents of Stuart Murdoch's cohorts. "Girls in Peacetime Want To Dance" makes it clear that if Stuart Murdoch is "Sebastian" in Belle and Sebastian, Sarah Martin and Stevie Jackson have now finally earned their claim to being "Belle".
Key Track: "Ever Had a Little Faith?
7) Johanna Warren- numun
Listening to numun, I am now able to distinguish between having proficiency with an instrument, and being in command of an instrument. Johanna Warren has complete, utter command of her guitar. Throughout this record, she demands her guitar to re-enact the jolts and jumps of her most innate brain activity, and her guitar obliges resoundingly. Warren's guitar playing bravely takes the listener on an extended hike through her realities. Her guitar navigates the choppiest and messiest junctures of life; this is no quest to soften the blow. Warren possesses the intuition and gentleness of a non traditional healer. She taps into the vibes of well-being through spiritual rituals and via the forces of the natural world. Warren's words are often swollen with the ripple effect of peacemaking with your most non ideal, hard to swallow realizations. It is so challenging to acknowledge your areas that require improvement in life, yet acknowledging your imperfections allows for growth. Warren recognizes that sometimes you need to feel what you're feeling, before you can feel better. "No more trying/Let's sit and stare/at the indescribable deep despair" (Johanna Warren- Found I Lost). The encouraging slant of her guitar work allows her music to feel rejuvenating and refreshing, more so than cold and self-effacing. It is more normal than not for singers to impose a theatrical presence on their vocalizations. It is a typical move for singers to emphasize the emotions they are trying to convey to an emphatic, drawn-out degree, like actors trying to inspire a certain type of reaction to the character they are portraying. But when Johanna Warren sings, there is no overdosing on emotional stakes. There is no intentional presentation to provoke a certain mindset in her listeners. Warren doesn't sing like she means it. She just sings and we know it's real. No convincing required.
Key Track: Found I Lost
6) Corrina Repp- The Pattern of Electricity
In 2001, Corrina Repp gave us a heartbreaking record called I Take On Your Days, which documented stomped on hearts, the outs of endings, and tears having their way. After following "I Take On Your Days" with a pair of more outward looking, less personal solo records, and a stint in the band Tu Fawning, Repp finally returns to providing play by play commentary of her heart's quest for transcendence. Her new solo record 'The Pattern of Electricity" is full of the type of intimate self portraits of sound and musings on domestication's undoing that made her 2001 LP such a prized possession. Written and recorded following a breakup, "The Pattern of Electricity" finds Repp yelping more than sighing, and creating a more full-blown eruption of sound from the foundations of her minimalist sonic sketches. If her 2001 album "I Take On Your Days" is the sound of love being negated with a subtle slip, and the mournful, reflective pondering that results, her 2015 record "The Pattern of Electricity" takes a more fiery, rebellious approach to coping with a flameout. Lyrically, throughout "The Pattern of Electricity", Repp refuses to make one-sided accusations. She does not pass the blame like a hot potato. While "I Take On Your Days" is about ruminating on what went wrong, "The Pattern of Electricity" is more invested in course correction, and learning from the disappointments encountered in her now defunct relationship. "The Pattern of Electricity" is a compromise between the panic of chaos, and the serenity of morning glory, before the guttural cracks awaken. Every so often, Repp transfixes us with a cameo of that low, whispery tone of voice that is as humane and settling, as it is extra-terrestrial and confounding. Closer "In the Dark, You're More Colorful" opens with acoustic guitar and Repp's voice floating lightly, gracefully. The electric guitar later kicks in, as her voice grows grows more provoked and ruffled. The tidy beginning morphs into a rude awakening, like being pulled out of a snug sleep into the untamed, unsafe ruins of living. Repp's magic lies in somehow making a rude awakening feel like a wake up call. Repp tears down hope, only to then acknowledge the benefits of starting anew, and building from the ground up. Thankfully, her new concoctions remember and celebrate the blueprints of yore. Repp reminds us throughout "The Pattern of Electricity that a clean slate doesn't have to always mean a clean break.
Key Track: In the Dark, You're More Colorful
5) Rachel Garlin- Wink at July
Rachel Garlin rummages through the recycling bin of life's small scale, reserved moments, and collects their charms, causing us to re-evaluate their worth. Garlin
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