From an editorial standpoint, the Year-End features are a lot of fun, despite the hectic scheduling and frenetic coordinating necessary to ensure we meet our [perpetually-malleable] deadlines. This is especially true for the Users’ Year-End list, which requires me to rely on the site’s contributing contingent to create the blurbs that complement each album in the feature. Not only are the Contributors tasked with all the writing, but there are occasions where they need to identify and recruit other users to alleviate the burden with similar energy and gusto.

Regardless of your opinion on the Users’ list – yes, we’ve heard plenty of you in regards to the Staff list – it takes an enthusiastic and reliable bunch to pull this off without a hitch. I’d wager that, all things considered, both features turned out rather well.

To say thank-you to the contributing reviewers for their hard work for the 2015 list, I’ve awarded them some additional, one-off “face time” on the blog. I left the theme open-ended and to each individual writer’s own devices. Where one might want to write about his favorite album this year, others might prefer instead to champion for an album that seemed to have gone under-appreciated or unrecognized on the site. Perhaps someone else wanted to write a treatise on why Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz is really 2015’s Album of the Year.

Please enjoy this 10-item featurette, and if you have other ideas that you’d enjoy contributing to or reading, don’t hesitate to keep in touch. –Jom

Snarky Puppy f/ Metropole Orkest – Sylva

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What’s a jazz write-up in 2015 without mentioning The Epic? Even if it wasn’t the only jazz album really gaining traction this year, it would deserve all the comparisons. The sheer breadth and depth of the album rewards repeated listens, almost to the extent that it’s easy to forget about listening to other albums. But as far as jazz-albums-in-2015-that-aren’t-Kamasi go, Snarky Puppy is undoubtedly the frontrunner; for this reviewer, Sylva even eclipses that aforementioned release. These days, I find myself tending away from albums that are difficult to get into or have a steep entry curve. At the end of the day, music is entertainment, and I’d much rather have fun listening to an album than reflecting on darker things. And whatever Sylva lacks in terms of scope and depth, it more than makes for in being goddamn fun.

Sylva pulls in stacks of disparate influences from the jazz fusion world and wears those influences proudly on its sleeve. Often settling into grooves uncomfortably similar to revered jazz classics, the album risks being called a mere imitation for brief moments before they cut loose with something out of left field (like the intense Mahavishnu-inspired guitar solo at the end of “The Clearing”). Whenever the album starts to feel too familiar, the band settle into a totally different groove, relying more on the guitars and symphonic elements in the lengthier tracks.

But I must admit, I don’t really think about all these things while I’m actually listening. Even after scores of listens, I still find myself switching off and grooving whenever “Atchafalaya” hits. Sure, I’m doing them a bit of a disservice by selling the depth and complexity of the album short, but for most of 2015, this is the album I came to when I just wanted to have fun. No album can best it in that regard. –ComeToDaddy

Polar Inertia – Kinematic Optics

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Arctic-themed ambient music can feel isolating, and perhaps that’s the point. It’s ideal for a sense of escapism that places you where no one can see you, in an environment that is captivating but fairly inactive. The frozen tundra is about as serene a landscape as you’ll ever find. Netherworld’s Zastrugi from earlier this year was detailed ambient techno, and focused on the geological and spiritual aspects of icy realms at an analytical level. Polar Inertia’s newest effort represents a different take, channeling raw energy and introspection in a loose narrative. The double EP Kinematic Optics defines their namesake: arctic ambient with a driving force, with the tracks moving in a straight path at constant velocity. Opener “Floating Away Fire” successfully captures feelings of both focus and panic, with a steadfast beat barraged with radiation. “Vertical Ice” is one of 2015’s best techno cuts, and changes the perspective from the victims to the victors: we get a sense that we’re peering at the cold landscape through the eyes of renegade machines rather than the oppressed living.

Few producers can pull off long-form techno that maintains momentum without getting stale, but Polar Inertia demonstrate flexibility and function. “Can We See Well Enough To Move On?”, a forty-minute ambient composition split in two comprising the EP’s second half, is the fallout of a worldwide disaster and the ensuing existential crises. Well-focused ambient pieces aren’t known to have unpredictable musicality – we can usually expect fluid transitions and steady pacing – but the enigmatic French duo are nerve-wracking anyhow. This, their best work to date, narrates the progression of great technological gains to all-encompassing loss: a world collapsed on itself. What makes Kinematic Optics particularly absorbing is how, after all is said in done, you’re convinced you have only yourself to blame. –Tristan Jones

Motörhead – Bad Magic

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I thought Lemmy was indestructible. I’d spent most of my youth idolizing him, believing him to be some rocker borne of sin and willing to die for the lifestyle my friends and I were obsessed with. We’d sit around at lunch trading anecdotes left behind by the now sober likes of Ozzy Osbourne and Keith Richards, neither of whom could muster the sheer kick-assery of what Lemmy seemed to toss off as casual habits. It was the sort of stuff any rock fan could admire, each tale of decadence confirming the legitimacy of our love. Without wanting to get preachy, sacrilegious, or hyperbolic about the matter, Lemmy was in many ways a ‘Rock & Roll Jesus’, willing to die for his art and audience. When I had heard of his passing, I felt like Don McClean throwing the headline of Buddy Holly’s death onto the front porches of the neighborhood, uneasy yet anxious to inform others of the news. No matter how predictable it may have been, it shocked me past a point of somberness. I felt cold. Motorhead et al had defined the greater enjoyment of my teenage years, only to suffer from what something children could not process: mortality.

I’ve stopped listening to classic rock as religiously as I did in high school. I became interested in other stuff along the way, and whilst the music was always there, it all sort of sat idle whilst I tried to will myself into other facets of popular music. I listened to Bad Magic earlier this year because I had faith in Motorhead to hit me in a way no other artist could. I got exactly what my $19.99 paid for. It wasn’t particularly impressive, but Motorhead records never really are impressive. They’re records made to satisfy children, of which I never really grow out of being. They’re primal displays of uninhibited behavior. They’re savage in a way nobody else can be bothered to muster, afraid it may make them look unintelligent or one-dimensional. They are, as a rule, really fucking great, and Bad Magic is no exception. Motorhead built a legacy on making albums of nothing but gut feeling, and Bad Magic is just another album in what is, arguably, the most consistent catalog in rock and metal music. Motorhead were never anything more or less than heavy metal; I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

“We are Motorhead, born to kick your ass.”

We love you, Mr. Kilmister. –Jordan

Manilla Road – The Blessed Curse

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The recent loss of Lemmy brought to the surface a number of virtues that tend to be forgotten, but many times play a role that’s as important as the music in metal: honesty, integrity, commitment, dignity, and perseverance. Lemmy’s loss is so significant because, in the eyes of metalheads, he was a true ambassador of the aforementioned traits. In a somewhat similar vein, Mark Shelton – Manilla Road’s founder and longtime leader – is an old-school character who has remained loyal to his principles for more than 35 years, a proverbial Don Quixote who always released under-produced music revolving around fantasy themes. He has been asked several times about the production issue, and in a recent interview stated that the reason behind it is that he doesn’t want ephemeral fans, but Manilla Road’s followers to spend time understanding the music.

The Blessed Curse lacks the immediate nature of Crystal Logic and catchy tunes in the form of “Necropolis” or “Divine Victim”, but those who persevere will find redeeming qualities and tracks that will stand the test of time. In particular, the Middle Eastern sound of “Tomes of Clay” and the potential classic “The Muses Kiss” are two such works. As a whole, Manilla Road’s 17th release is probably the most upbeat LP since Mysterium, and for the band’s standards, one of their better-produced efforts. It doesn’t have the thrashy elements of The Deluge and features a variety of acoustic passages. Even though the songwriting is once again solid, what really stands out is Shelton’s guitar playing. In addition, its running time, clocking at more than 90 minutes, will be deemed as overwhelming by some and doesn’t make checking the album out in one listen easy.

Nevertheless, what is probably the most important aspect of The Blessed Curse is that Mark Shelton, after all these years, still makes music that he loves and performs at a high level. With lyrics revolving around ancient Sumer (the Mesopotamian region), he offers his followers a safe haven from the relentless rhythms of modern life. Manilla Road’s music is certainly not for the cynical listener, but one has to respect a band that ruled the underground before the Internet and stuck by their ideals through thick and thin. –manosg

Joanna Newsom – Divers

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Sadly, the inevitable and misguided comparisons to Ys were always going to put a dampener on Divers‘ reception, just as they did for Have One On Me and will continue to do for any subsequent release bearing Joanna Newsom’s name. I’m not surprised, of course. It’s typical for an artist’s “masterpiece” to be used as a yardstick, with which people try and validate their presuppositions by treating any deviation in style from said piece of work as an inherent negative. No, Divers doesn’t quite have the long-winded, sprawling soundscape of Newsom’s 2006 opus, nor is it quite as ambitious, lyrically or compositionally speaking. You might even say it’s not trying to be another Ys!

This is an infinitely more personal record, and what makes it so relatable and heart-wrenching is partially due to it not hiding its subtext behind tales of monkeys exploiting their grizzly companions, or anything else to that effect — it wears its heart on its sleeve. However, one can’t mistake its candour for a lack of depth, because Divers still contains a labyrinth of a narrative to dissect and comprehend. Contextualising this album’s subject matter is also imperative, with Newsom having only recently wed; it is the first album in which she genuinely sounds as though she has something to lose. It is the first album in which the enormity of death appears to have dawned upon her. Some tracks say so much in so few words that their impact only deepens with each and every listen, having initially appeared as inconsequential ear-candy. On Divers, Newsom pairs her allegorical complexities with clarity of vision that we have seldom seen from her before, which results in easily the most concise – and, by extension – the most captivating release of her career so far. –Jacquibim

Windfaerer – Tenebrosum

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Now that we’ve said goodbye to 2015 and brace ourselves for another year of too much time spent on this site, I can’t help but wonder why Windfaerer’s Tenebrosum never gained much traction. After all, the black metal/folk hybrid’s latest effort is an absolute juggernaut of epic proportions. Not unlike Saor’s music, one can’t help but feel like they’re transported to a land of mist and legends when Windfaerer’s folk-inspired riffs come tumbling through the speakers. Of course it doesn’t hurt that the vocalist himself sounds like a vile creature amidst the fog. With a performance that rests comfortably between the most guttural of death metal growls and the most sinister black metal shrieks, he fits right into the ominous landscape.

Although the band is based out of New Jersey, the album pays homage to Latin folklore. What’s so fascinating, though, is how a band from The Garden State can pay tribute to ancient folklore and mythology in such an authentic way. None of the music feels contrived, instead flowing together so convincingly that it’s hard not to get lost in its gloomy, archaic atmosphere. All the instrumentation is incredibly balanced as well, with Celtic influences and strings adding personality to the galloping guitars without meandering from the album’s highly coherent sound. Tenebrosum might be Windfaerer’s first full length in five years, but they’re sure as hell making up for the lost time with one of the most engaging metal albums of 2015. For fans of Saor, Panopticon, or just epic metal in general, this one shouldn’t be missed. –Atari

Neon Indian – Vega Intl. Night School

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Alan Palomo’s always had a knack for creating mellow, playful pop music drenched in the synthesizers and guitars of the ’80s. However, Vega Intl. Night School proves to be his most dynamic album yet. “Annie” sounds like something straight out of an L.A. nightclub in 1985, with brisk electronic beats, flourishing synth melodies, and a captivating chorus. Lush electronic beats prevail throughout, with layers of coordinated melodies constantly changing to provide a contrast to Palomo’s breezy, placid vocal work. “Slumlord” starts off with a somber synth solo, then segues into a groovy bassline, frisky electronics, and one of the strongest choruses on the album. Every song transitions without a hitch into the next, and Palomo always keeps things interesting. Even if you don’t consider Vega Intl. Night School to be Neon Indian’s strongest album, you sure as hell have to admit that it’s the most fun. –ExplosiveOranges

Black Bombaim, Isaiah Mitchell, Rodrigo Amado, and Shela – Live at Casazul

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As this forty minute jam session between four collaborating artists plays out in the openness of the gardens of Casazul, situated in Barcelos, Portugal, one member very suddenly and very noticeably disappears from the swirling, chaotic wall of psychedelic noise that brings Live at Casazul into what would prove to be its final stages. Moments later, the rest of the performers seemingly decide it’s time to bring the curtain down. As explained in the LP’s liner notes, albeit with an intriguing lack of context, this abrupt ending was a result of police raiding the stage and pulling out Isaiah Mitchell’s guitar lead from its amplifier. It seems almost appropriate that such a spontaneous performance would come to such a fittingly unorchestrated end.

In keeping with the improvised nature of the performance, and indeed the unorganized chaos of its finale, this live session was recorded exclusively by an audience member and was never planned to be released as an official live recording. Given the quality of performance that unraveled, though, it’s unsurprising that this fan-recorded material was deemed worthy of a label-endorsed release. The apparent chemistry between the six-piece jam ensemble makes this much more than just a collaborative experiment; this is the sound of a group of musicians who are playing for themselves just as much as for those in the audience.

Black Bombaim are essentially the headline act here, but it’s the way in which all four artists play as a collective and complement one another which makes Live at Casazul so engaging. Rodrigo Amado’s sax is particularly effective, giving a jazzy and, at times, almost avant-garde edge to proceedings whilst never at any point sounding misplaced or forced. Shela (synthesizer) and Isaiah Mitchell (guitar) are appropriately subtle and in-your-face respectively, with the former adding depth and texture and the latter adding greater energy and intensity. You get the impression that the musicians involved could have quite comfortably played on even longer than what was allowed to them given the session’s unanticipated end, but these forty minutes, fortunately caught on tape, proved to be more than enough to make for one the most exciting psychedelic releases of 2015. –JamieTwort

Turnover – Peripheral Vision

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Turnover are a band that I wasn’t really familiar with up until a few months ago. I’ve still yet to listen to their other material besides this album, but maybe that is for the better. Peripheral Vision sounds as if American Football decided to make another album, but choose to integrate elements of Dream Pop and Pop-Punk into the proceedings. The vocals cleanly echo simple, yet relatable lyrics while the instruments (especially the guitar) paint a picture perpetuated by a beautiful and glowing haze. There is a layer of depth to the guitar that many bands in the emo genre try to replicate and fail, but Turnover don’t disappoint. The glossy guitar lines are a true highlight of the album and hold a consistent and heartfelt approach to one of my favorite instruments. “Cutting My Fingers Off” is perhaps one of my favorite songs of the year, with honest lyrics that portray loving someone so much that it pains the narrator when it comes to being away from their partner, yet it proves to be an uplifting tale that I myself can relate to significantly. Perhaps that’s what is most powerful about this album: the sense of relatability and nostalgia backed up by beautiful instrumentation. I highly recommend listening to “Cutting My Fingers Off”, and I’d be hard-pressed to see you not enjoy the rest. –Hogan

Kathryn Joseph – Bones You Have Thrown Me and Blood I’ve Spilled

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Among music fans and connoisseurs, it’s widely accepted that the vast majority of records take their time to settle. For all its celebrated complexities, it seems the details and subtleties of a succession of songs are simply too much for the human brain to process in one sitting — no matter whether said sounds are of a decidedly melodic variety. To prove an exception, a record must possess a rare quality: the ability to cut straight to the jugular, all while withholding enough of its secrets to ensure longevity. A debut of poise, power and poignant beauty, Kathryn Joseph’s Bones You Have Thrown Me and Blood I’ve Spilled is truly one of those delicacies.

From the harrowing piano notes which herald the arrival of “The Bird”, this is a record which hits you like a stone. Its emotions are naked, desolate and candid, and the same can be said of the musical backing, which amounts to little more than stark piano and the odd shimmering touch of cymbal. Striking, self-deprecating and perennially stirring, it plunges you headfirst into its deep, melancholy depths, relieving its grip only when its full 37 minutes have elapsed. The focus sharpens upon repeat exposure, but what makes Bones – and in particular that first listen – so special is the way it divulges these core elements from the get go. In what, for me, proved a pretty ordinary year, it made for a gem that shone brighter than all others. –Ali