2012 Albums of the year READER EDITION(s)

Today's post is the first READER EDITION 2012 Album of the year list!

I may have started this blog to share my music finds, but it was never intended to be just my views. Anytime I catch up with a music friend, the first question is "Whatcha listening to these days?" Likewise, while putting together my year end lists, I asked a few of my music enthusiast friends to contribute their lists as well!

The first post is from James Ferris, a Pittsbugrh local, college friend, and one of the few people I know with a music collection that puts mine to shame.  He likes The Weedrags, Leadbelly, and Kid Rock.

READER EDITION 2012 Album of the year list - JAMES FERRIS EDITION!

1 – 3. The Weeknd, “Trilogy”

The Weeknd emerged into the world so fully realized, so self-aware, it’s hard to believe that Abel Tesfaye was only 21 when he simultaneously released three albums last year, each one a fully formed, unique piece of music. Tesfaye’s delicately balanced falsetto summons up a world of coked up party girls and strippers in dark rooms, a fragile psyche wrecked by drugs and narcissism; perhaps not far removed from standard RnB lyrical matter, but musically, The Weeknd is his own game, evoking Portishead more than the slick grooves of modern day hip-hop: dark, atmospheric, somewhere between music and textures, melodies and sound effects. House of Balloons, the first disc in the trilogy, alone would have been enough to establish The Weeknd as a force majeur in the fragmented and unfocused musical landscape of the 21^st century, but combined with the equally powerful Echoes of Silence and somewhat lesser Thursday, no one has made an impact with a premiere work like this in years.

4. Fiona Apple, “The Idler Wheel…”

Shape shifter. Although the first notes of album opener “Every Single Night” hint at the same delicate melodies found on Extraordinary Machine, by the time it reaches the tribal, chanted chorus, it’s clear Fiona Apple is an altered beast, embracing the primal jazz influences she’s always hinted at but never fully explored. Lyrically, she’s much the same as she ever was: full of self-doubt and keening for a lover, destroying the relationship from within or its hapless victim, but now with the added gravitas of adulthood bearing down on her. Separated from the layers of orchestration of former collaborator/producer Jon Brion, Apple instead explores a much sparser dynamic, opting to work with drummer Charlie Drayton, and it shows: musically, The Idler Wheel… is an examination of rhythm and percussion, floating from hushed whispers to jagged attacks of piano, drums, and strings, her voice at times buried deep within the mix, now half a world away from the slick pop production of Tidal. Although the rambling “Jonathan” and “Left Alone” go around in circles and threaten to derail the entire album early on, by the time she silently segues into “Werewolf,” the second half of the album follows through on its initial promise and delivers some her finest songs to date.

5.  Jonny Greenwood, “The Master” OST

Jonny Greenwood’s score for The Master suggests a lot of things: Confusion. Uncertainty. Sinking.  Indecision. Anger. Tentative melodies weave around one another, woodwinds ease in and disappear, strings attack violently. In short, it’s the perfect analog accompaniment to Radiohead’s recent electronic explorations, reimagined via an all-night brandy tasting session with Stravinsky. Brilliant with or without having viewed Paul Thomas Anderson’s accompanying film, but seeing it will definitely add layers of appreciation.

6.  Jack White, “Blunderbuss”

It is perhaps somewhat snarky to suggest that every White Stripes album was really, after all, just a Jack White solo album, so what’s the big deal? That said, the bloat of the duo’s last two albums suggest White had lost focus, or at the very least was just going through the motions: Blunderbuss doesn’t necessarily come across as White answering those critics with something to prove, but he’s obviously reconnected with the thrill of making music that drove him on the Stripes’ early albums. Apart from “Sixteen Saltines” and “Freedom at 21,” he almost entirely eschews the floor stomping, hard driving rock music that drove his commercial success, opting instead for the country and piano flavored material that harkens back to De Stijl. One of the last remaining rock stars of an age that didn’t produce a lot of them to begin with, Blunderbuss doesn’t suggest a desperate grab for continued relevance so much as the second stage of a vital career still in full swing.

7. Various Artists, “Moonrise Kingdom”  OST

For every Wes Anderson film, there’s an accompanying soundtrack that introduces at least one song that sounds so immediate, so necessary, the listener is left to wonder how they ever missed it before, and suddenly it becomes one with the cosmic zeitgeist (see: Rushmore: “Ooh La La”; The Royal Tenenbaums, “These Days,” The Life Aquatic, Seu Jorge’s Portugese renditions of David Bowie’s oeuvre, etc.). While Anderson is not without responsibility for this, a large chunk of credit is due to music supervisor Randall Poster, who has worked with Anderson since Bottle Rocket suggesting music, picking out songs, and securing rights to otherwise seemingly unobtainable works. Considered together, the soundtracks are as indispensible as the performances themselves. However, Moonrise Kingdom is a departure from the typical obscure-or-underappreciated-rock-and-pop fare typically found in Anderson’s films: between classical works by Benjamin Britten and Alexandre Desplat, there are songs by Hank Williams and selections from the operetta Noye’s Fludde. While it probably won’t become a classic along the lines of Rushmore, it’s an interesting variation on the structure of Anderson’s past soundtracks, although some judicious editing to lessen the considerable running time would have been welcome.

8.  Leonard Cohen, “Old Ideas”

I suspect that there are two groups of Tom Waits fans: those who first discovered him in his L.A. troubadour period, and those that found him after he did Bone Machine. I’m not saying there aren’t people out there that followed him through that transition from piano based ballads to guttural howls recorded in a basement over a thumping bass drum, but there probably aren’t many; it’s probably easier for the latter day fans to appreciate the earlier stuff, instead of vice versa. Accordingly, I suspect Leonard Cohen fans suffer the same lot, although his later output certainly hasn’t been as prolific. If anything, his voice has gotten deeper and richer with age, but there isn’t a lot musically to connect his earlier work with tracks like “Going Home” or “Amen,” which sound like whispered church hymns filtered through eight decades of regret. With Cohen’s advanced age and the themes of mortality throughout the album, it’s tempting to view this as a farewell, the final sum after decades of recording; but Old Ideas suggests that if he sticks around, there might be life in the old dog yet.

9. Poliça, “Give You The Ghost”

Like The Weeknd, Poliça’s debut album instantly conjures up a dark landscape of atmospheric beauty, but Channy Leaneagh’s soft and delicately auto-tuned vocals suggest a feminine but no less confusing world. Layers of instrumentation often mask the ferocious and intricate percussion, but repeat listening is a reward in itself.

Less than a year old when the album was released, it’s still too soon to tell whether the band is a one-trick pony or not, but in the meantime just sit back and enjoy the ride.