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User
Soundoffs 20
Album Ratings 412
Objectivity 54%
Last Active 12-18-22 9:45 am
Joined 02-17-18
Review Comments 703
| Best 25 Albums of 2022 (25-13)
This took a long time and although I am under no illusion anyone will read it, I enjoyed creating 25 mini-reviews and re-listening to each album 2 or 3 times as I did. A tremendously strong year. Apologies to Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Sam Prekop & John McEntire, Dry Cleaning, Belle & Sebastian, Ariel Zetina, Just Mustard, The Weeknd, Djo, Rina Sawayama, Sylvan Esso, Ravyn Lenae, HAAi, Tourist and probably heaps of others I never got around to listening to. | | 28 |  | Working Men’s Club
Fear Fear
25 Fear Fear sounds like a classic early 80s synth album that never was. Reminiscent of Depeche Mode, Gary Numan and early New Order while simultaneously embracing elements of industrial and post punk electronica, Working Men’s Club somehow succeed in making the past sound contemporary. Widow sounds like a modern cover of something that could have been on a various artist compilation from 1981 and is dominated by a synth hook that somehow sounds both nostalgic and fresh. Ploys is tighter, more techno-influenced, and highlights Minsky-Sargeant’s enigmatic, monotonal delivery, before Cut lets the guitars loose to duel with the keyboard riffs in a low-key epic. | | 27 | | Working Men’s Club
Fear Fear
25 Circumference’s nihilistic lyrics, “These days, this fucking time, a blissful circumference of a broken life” belie its soaring, optimistic backdrop. Heart Attack is funky but not especially noteworthy and is outdone by Money Is Mine’s similarly repetitive but more memorable lyrical refrain, “Endless depression, it's time, suicide is yours when the money is mine”; the latter also more successfully capturing the kinetic vitality of a subterranean indie dance club. Fear Fear demands to be played loud, and preferably somewhere dark, hazy and a little dangerous, and you need to move while you listen. 4 (76) | | 26 |  | Placebo
Never Let Me Go
24 Placebo have always been a bit of a contradiction; intermittently brilliant and slightly shit. Their first few albums leant more into the former than the latter, but there was always that ever-present niggle that the insidious guitar squelch and Molko’s distinctive voice were masking an empty core; the lyrics to Pure Morning for example… what the actual fuck is he talking about? And yet there was always an abstractness, a poetic beauty that made you wonder if there was something all-knowing and insightful going on underneath all the blather of sucker-love, tarty hearts and friends with weed. And there was often genuinely unsettling emotion and vulnerability. I lost interest this century though, and didn’t expect Never Let Me Go to be up to much. Beautiful James came along and seemed perfectly fine if unremarkable, but then Surrounded by Spies hit and it was the best thing I’d heard from them in over 15 years – good enough for the genesis of anticipation anyway. | | 25 | | Placebo
Never Let Me Go
24 Turns out the album is terrific. Still slightly shit in places - Hugz is pure wack, if fun - and the lyrics are still simultaneously visceral and indecipherable (“grow fins, go back in the water…”) but Placebo sound reinvigorated. The run from The Prodigal (a contender for best song on the album with its ascendant orchestral splendour) to Sad White Reggae is phenomenal and combines the experimental with the formulaic to create an anthemic mid-section reminiscent of their peak 90’s output. It’s perhaps a little overloaded, and This Is What You Wanted sounds too Clocks-ish, but there’s a lot to appreciate here. Went Missing and Fix Yourself close the album beautifully and Molko’s habit of repeating mantras ad infinitum ensure you will be singing along in your head long after the final notes fade away… “go fix yourself, instead of someone else, go fix yourself…” 4 (76) | | 24 |  | Quadeca
I Didn't Mean to Haunt You
23 Ever wondered what it would be like to commit suicide and find yourself trapped in some limbo existence, able to observe your loved ones, be witness to their pain and grief, but lack the power to do anything about it? Quadeca explores this idea in the folktronica I Didn’t Mean to Haunt You. Combining electronic and acoustic elements, Lasky alternates between singing, rapping and something in between. But the most striking thing about the album is the production; it’s unique, very inventive, and establishes Quadeca as an artist not content to follow a formula, or be constrained by convention. His approach is somewhat reminiscent of mid 90’s Beck, and it will be fascinating to see how his music develops over time – anything seems possible. This is a concept album – unfolding from the point of view of a ghost who suicided, struggling to come to terms with existence between “a coma and some anaesthesia”, consumed by guilt, watching his family deal with the aftermath of his death. | | 23 | | Quadeca
I Didn't Mean to Haunt You
23 It’s a strange concept, and the result is, unsurprisingly, haunting, and sometimes quite moving – as in Fantasyworld where Lasky in the most intimate and heartfelt vocal on the album cherubically recognises, “…I float, mountains away, where no one can stay.” The disturbing House Settling sees the ghost trying to poison his loved ones through carbon monoxide poisoning so they can join him in his nowhere state, only to have his efforts dismissed as the “house settling”; it’s all very weird (especially Danny Brown rapping from the perspective of the carbon monoxide), but also very good. In retrospect, it’s apparent lead single Born Yesterday was a microcosm of the album, acting as a trailer for the story, themes and music from the main feature. I Didn’t Mean to Haunt You is a strange, emotional, reflective, frequently thrilling and extremely ambitious effort by a fascinating young artist. 4 (77) | | 22 |  | Let's Eat Grandma
Two Ribbons
22 Named after a famous punctuation misconception that allows teachers to make jokes about cannibalising family members, Let’s Eat Grandma created one of the songs of the decade in Donnie Darko on their 2018 album I’m All Ears. And while there’s nothing quite as career defining on Two Ribbons, the album has enough synth-pop stompers to satisfy most. An album of two halves, the first five tracks are fast-tempo, hook-laden anthems, while the second is made up of slower, more contemplative arrangements and instrumentals. | | 21 | | Let's Eat Grandma
Two Ribbons
22 The four singles are probably the best things here, and depending on mood I could make a case for Happy New Year, Leviathan or Hall of Mirrors as the standout. The vocals are consistently compelling and the lyrics, although relatively slight, and focusing mainly on relationship-based themes, are poignant and sometimes bittersweet. The finale, Two Ribbons, is a reflective, melodic almost-folk song that ends the album beautifully. Maybe a great track or two short of a triumph, Two Ribbons is nevertheless a satisfying listen. 4 (78) | | 20 |  | Shygirl
Nymph
21 Nymph was a long time coming; over five years, Shygirl released a glut of singles and EPs but the album status remained frustratingly “imminent”. Happily, when it finally surfaced, it was a sleek shade of wonderful. Nymph is a mix of UK hip-hop, trap, R&B, hyperpop, garage, and probably 10 other sub-genres I am unqualified to identify. It all sounds great, like the stuff you would expect to hear on Top of the Pops in 2022 if it still existed, and the charts were still relevant and somewhat representative of quality mainstream music. Woe opens the album with a lush groove before breaking into addictive grime. Arca’s production elevates Come for Me, and it’s not hard to predict the lyrical theme of Shlut (not my thing but it’s a great song anyway). | | 19 | | Shygirl
Nymph
21 First single Firefly is fantastic – one of the year’s best – and together with the playful Coochie (a Bedtime Story) begins the strongest run on the album, culminating with the sexual physicality of Nike – minimalist old-school hip-hop over which Muise raps mantra-like, “Hands on my breast, hands on my breast, do it, hands on my breast and my batty like he knew it”. Things slow down over the final three tracks, but by then we’re already hooked; Nymph isn’t going to win any awards for lyrical excellence, but it’s an infectious and confident pop highlight. 4 (79) | | 18 |  | Sarathy Korwar
KALAK
20 KALAK is a word derived by Korwar from the Hindi word ‘kal’ (meaning both ‘yesterday’ and ‘tomorrow’) to reflect the circularity of time; KALAK has at its core the idea that the past, present and future are all inter-related and cyclical – not linear – as the track, Remember Circles Are Better Than Lines, and the album cover emphasise. The album begins with a spoken word culinary metaphor establishing the damage colonialism has wrought in South Asia. As KALAK is largely instrumental, deeper meaning has to be inferred from the music, influences and song names, and the titles, read consecutively as in the spoken word closer, act as a literary summation of the major themes of the album. | | 17 | | Sarathy Korwar
KALAK
20 First track proper To Remember contains the only real lyrics on KALAK and although I have no idea how they translate, they sound both exotic and exhilarating amongst the vibrant flute motif and saxophone interludes. Utopia Is a Colonial Project references Thomas More’s 500-year-old text and is a dynamic sax-driven romp. The clubbiest moment emerges when Back in The Day, Things Were Not Always Simpler pulses with deep rhythms and looped vocal effects. Kal Means Yesterday and Tomorrow builds suspense gradually, flute and percussion harmonising inventively and threatens to explode half-way through, before receding back where it came from – its shape reflecting the album’s palindromic title. Begum Rokeya was a Bangladeshi feminist who championed women’s education and employment rights in the early 1900s; her celebratory song has a catchy vocal riff, mirrored by saxophone, which is hard to dislodge from your head. | | 16 | | Sarathy Korwar
KALAK
20 That Clocks Don't Tell but Make Time is all Korwar’s impressive percussive skills and acts as a bridge to the spacey synths of the house-infused aforementioned Remember Circles Are Better Than Lines before Remember to Look Out for The Signs closes out the main set with a bacchanal of percussive instruments and circular rhythms. KALAK is revelatory; by blending South Asian influences, captivating rhythms and contagious sax, flute and vocal hooks with themes surrounding the nature of time and colonialism, Sarathy Korwar has created a monument. 4 (79) | | 15 |  | Yeule
Glitch Princess
19 Glitch Princess is an inventive and highly engaging mind trip. It is crawling with insidious electronic moments which always manage to escape before monotony traps them. The music contorts and mutates and remodels in a darkly enticing mess of tunnels and threads; Fragments, in particular, feels like a wild odyssey and Bites on My Neck is an eruption of twisted satisfaction. Lyrically, Glitch Princess is damaged, with songs about self-harm, self-hatred, broken and scarred bodies and minds, and flirtations with the edges of death porn culture. And this is where Glitch Princess glitches somewhat… some of the ideas seem affected - more like inauthentic performance art. | | 14 | | Yeule
Glitch Princess
19 The opener, My Name is Nat Ćmiel, perhaps aiming to establish an unsettling or enigmatic tone, instead elicits incredulity and ridicule. Electric would have been a far more effective and representative beginning, and the album doesn’t truly ignite until Perfect Blue, which ultimately begins an unbroken stretch of amazingness. Best of all is Friendly Machine, which brilliantly combines sentiments of youthful nihilism, mental illness and confusion with flashes of hope, naivety and a simultaneously innocent and menacing nursery-rhyme melody. I will shadow Yeule’s next trip with fascination. 4 (79) | | 13 |  | Dubstar
Two
18 The second resurgent mid 90’s Brit-pop band on this list (with a third still to come), Dubstar appeared to be a product of their era, contributing two solid albums and a classic single – Stars – before releasing an album in 2000 no one heard and seemingly fading away in a haze of unfavourable Saint Etienne comparisons. Yet they never officially disbanded, and in 2018 released a new album – One – followed by the imaginatively titled Two this year. The first surprise was how fresh they sounded, the second was that I missed them – especially Sarah Blackwood’s distinctive and compelling voice; Blackwood enunciates the final phoneme of each word more completely than any vocalist I can think of, and somehow manages to sound endearing in the process. | | 12 | | Dubstar
Two
18 Token is monumental – premium electro with soaring riffs and touching lyrics, it climaxes in an explosion of nostalgic melodiousness in the final minute that empowers its status as one of the songs of the year. I Can See You Outside is almost as good, a sophisticated pulsing groove that epitomises elegance. Hygiene Strip showcases Blackwood’s stylish vocal phrasing and is an effortlessly assured standout. But the biggest surprise is the closing track, a cover of Murmur-era REM track Perfect Circle that imbues the song with an emotional power that rivals Stipe’s version. Two is beautifully produced, overflowing with quality songwriting, and is so classy that you feel underdressed listening in anything less than classic black-tie attire. 4 (80) | | 11 |  | Roza Terenzi and D. Tiffany
Edge Of Innocence
17 Writing about electronic music doesn’t come naturally to me. I don’t have great understanding of what sub-genre I’m listening to at any particular point in time and my appreciation for the music is pretty much exclusively based on how it makes me feel. Edge of Innocence makes me feel like moving. Fast. And looking around wildly while I do. There is a driving momentum to most of these tracks that pushes the music relentlessly forward, yet there is always something demanding attention in the background – a mess of peripheral distractions that act something similar to superlative cinematography in a movie; do we focus on the main story or indulge in the minutiae of the scenery? | | 10 | | Roza Terenzi and D. Tiffany
Edge Of Innocence
17 Gravity Bongo is simply too propulsive to make sedentary listening an option, and the start-stop nature of many of the tracks lead to multiple bursts of spontaneous adrenaline rushes. Paparazzi is reminiscent of Skee Mask’s brilliant Pool from last year; gurgling layers of acidic techno cocoon a cacophony of blips and beeps and saws and scrapes persistently threatening to escape their confines. Consistently engaging with only limited lulls, Edge of Innocence is an interactive and innovative indulgence. 4 (82) | | 9 |  | Pantha Du Prince
Garden Gaia
16 Nothing on Garden Gaia is going to change the world, or propel electronic music into new frontiers, but it’s a kaleidoscopic and reassuring way to spend 45 minutes when you feel like sinking into a dreamy soundscape. Like most Pantha du Prince projects, it’s an album best experienced as a whole, an organic, twinkling exploration of the concepts of nature and environment. Despite its holistic vision, Garden Gaia’s standout moments rank with the better electronic tracks of the year. Crystal Volcano gurgles and tinkles along happily, ebbing and flowing through deeply satisfying melodies. Liquid Lights is the most danceable track on the album with Weber expertly crafting his familiar bells and chord progressions around a propulsive rhythm. | | 8 | | Pantha Du Prince
Garden Gaia
16 And Golden Galactic may be best of all; skittering and murmuring synth noises play delicately to a backdrop of expansive strings – bringing to mind epic and colourful alien landscapes inhabited by digitalised creatures with sharp edges and unconcerned natures. Garden Gaia is a vivid, rich and lovingly created album that only loses a little of its lustre when vocals arrive and spoil its otherworldly ambience on Blume and Heaven Is Where You Are. That minor annoyance aside, Garden Gaia is a blissful retreat. 4 (83) | | 7 |  | Jockstrap
I Love You Jennifer B
15 Some first listens are more memorable than others; albums can disappoint and then evolve to become favourites, or impress and then diminish as the flaws metastasise. I Love You Jennifer B was a hectic initial listen: an unpredictable blancmange of genres, vocal styles, tempos and ideas; songs with false fronts giving way to seemingly unrelated midsections; unconventional and erratic percussive effects; eclectic instrumentation and indiscriminate tonal shifts. Definitely not boring. But once all the stagecraft and melodrama is revealed, the songs ultimately need to be substantive for an album to be remembered. Are they? Yes. Second track Jennifer B is genuinely great – showcasing Taylor Skye’s intuitive production skills and at least three stylistic transformations. | | 6 | | Jockstrap
I Love You Jennifer B
15 I’m not convinced of Georgia Ellery’s skills as a pure vocalist, but her versatility and creative vocal choices are both inventive and effective, and Greatest Hits has her alternating between mid and high registers and spoken word interludes that complement the energetic funkiness of the song flawlessly. About two minutes into Concrete Over Water squelches and screaks launch an assault on the gentle synths before the song pretends to end and a piano ballad emerges, only for the spacey electronica to unleash a second wave; for some reason backwards vocals begin and end the track – not sure why – it’s all a bit nuts really. | | 5 | | Jockstrap
I Love You Jennifer B
15 Angst features slightly twisted lyrics seemingly comparing the metaphorical birthing of a foetus in an egg to having an anxiety attack, and culminates in a frenzied but melodious acapella finale. Debra is another chameleon, transitioning from atmospheric angst to distorted dance beats and Kill Bill sirens. Glasgow, eventually, settles into acoustic indie that could almost pass for Haim when the violins aren’t interrupting, and is an album highlight. I Love You Jennifer B concludes with an extended mix of 2021 single 50/50, and it is magnificent – no other song I know could make me sing along to the inspirational lyric, “Aah, ayy, ooh, eee, ahh” while pulling out all my best dance moves on public transport. So yeah, the album may have a superabundance of flashy tricks, but it’s also a keeper. 4 (84) | | 4 |  | Destroyer
LABYRINTHITIS
14 Ironically, the greatest achievement of LABYRINTHITIS is that it finally gave me the motivation to listen to Kaputt (an album I have come to consider an all-time favourite). Perhaps unfair, as LABYRINTHITIS is a phenomenal album that effortlessly wooed me into the canon of Dan Bejar. Lead single Tintoretto, It's for You was the song that did it; a meteoric mindfuck that describes Death “ringing” to take Tintoretto away to wherever you go when you die. When the line, “Tintoretto it’s for you” drops and the intense synths take control the drama of it all is overpowering – just wish the song was longer. It’s in Your Heart Now features a choppy intro that I have come to realise is a common attribute of many Destroyer songs, and gradually evolves into a lush instrumental in its final three minutes. June sounds like it could squeeze unobtrusively into Kaputt’s tracklist with its harmonious keyboard riff and meandering guitar melodies. Lovely rant at the end too. | | 3 | | Destroyer
LABYRINTHITIS
14 Album highlight The States is apparently autobiographical to an extent, with Bejar singing to a 20-year younger version of himself. I love the way the verses are nearly identical but with slightly different information at each iteration, a futile effort to control fate: “No matter how you frame it, sun ain't gonna shine through your window or your front door.” The equally fatalistic and appropriately named, The Last Song, finishes LABYRINTHITIS on a sad, but not inconsistent note; after all, this is the album that declares, “A snow angel's a fucking idiot somebody made, a fucking idiot someone made in the snow.” My first encounter with the virtuosic force of Destroyer, but definitely not my last. 4 (84) | | 2 |  | Suede
Autofiction
13 In 1996, after the departure of their great guitarist Bernard Butler, Suede reappeared with one of their greatest songs – Trash – lead single from the excellent Coming Up, surprising many who thought they were finished, and beginning their second incarnation. They eventually disbanded in 2003, but reformed a decade later; Autofiction, the fourth album of their third era, is massive. Easily their best effort in at least a quarter of a century, the album sounds like the work of a far younger band in their ascendency. Autofiction sounds huge – blistering guitars, soaring melodies, urgent drums… and Brett Anderson’s unique voice at its absolute best. How did they do that? The opening five songs run into each other and sound like a ferocious live set. She Still Leads Me On is a glorious rush; Anderson singing of his dead mother and how he is, “still a young boy, waiting patiently for four p.m.” But it’s not a grief-stricken ballad, it’s a celebration of her timeless guidance. | | 1 | | Suede
Autofiction
13 Personality Disorder continues the guitar blitz as it explores a maladjusted relationship in quintessential Anderson-style; the revelation here is how powerful Anderson’s spoken-word verses sound. 15 Again is equally as chaotic and twice as anthemic, and That Boy on the Stage hits the hardest of all – a frenetic tour de force that rocks extremely hard and, again, sounds like Suede have been possessed by a different band. But it is still Suede, and a Suede album isn’t a Suede album without exquisitely tormented mid-tempo epics and an emotionally wrecked ballad or two. The two best are It’s Always the Quiet Ones and What am I Without You? The former is a powerful rumbling behemoth with a magnificent cloud-bound chorus, while the latter is a reflective, impassioned acknowledgement of the band’s fans, “I'm nothing without you”. I’m not sure about that Brett, but I am grateful you are still here, and making music as monumental and refreshing as this. 4 (85) | |
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