10. Manchester Orchestra – A Black Mile to the Surface
Genre: Indie Rock // Released: 2017
I remember things that I have business remembering. I remember things that are strangely specific and serve no purpose other than adding another aspect to a memory. It might be that it helps me connect to it easier, yet the last thing I desire is for it to remain in my head, its lingering ghost consistently roving about whenever a single thought drifts towards it. The crux of the occurrence is unchanged; I still ran out of a crowded room, I still ended up on a street corner in the cold winter of the Appalachian outskirts, I still got picked up by a patrolling police car, I was still at in a room where I heard the same comments as I’ve always heard, and I still ended up in my dorm—no escort or assistance other than a throwaway recommendation. But what constantly reappears during this recollection is that while curled up in a fetal position, rocking back and forth in a torn sweatshirt that hardly protected against the lowering temperature, I repeated to myself the same phrase: “It’s no cold.” I kept count and reached 121 utterances of this hollow mantra before the officers came by, doubtlessly believing I was yet another drunk college student out of control. Though the former was false,…
Death sucks. That goes without saying, especially now, yet we never seem to grow tired of those artists who explore the topic, at least where broached with due care and respect. Those aren’t words I would typically associate with Mark Kozelek, were I to fixate on the brash manner in which he tends to conduct himself in the public sphere, but that’s exactly what Benji is: intensely contemplative and deeply respectful. The arbitrary injustice of that senseless equaliser is addressed via anecdote, through tales whose underlying meaning (or lack thereof) is seldom unpacked. The tragedy of Jim Wise is recounted without passing judgement, favourable or otherwise. Purpose isn’t grafted onto Carissa’s passing, although Mark searches. Micheline and Brett are mourned, with no overarching narrative plastered over their loss. There’s no silver lining to be coloured in; no higher meaning to be gleaned or uncovered. It is what it is. Yet this acceptance of meaninglessness is meaningful, in and of itself, and with it Benji becomes more than just another folk record about death. Unadorned and matter-of-fact, absent vague platitudes and superficial conjecture: it’s the real deal. And it’s terrifying. – Asleep
I’d bet Michael Gira still cracks a good chuckle every now and then when recalling that time he tried to sell his soul to the Devil in exchange for eternal inspiration and unbridled creativity, and the Lord of Flies laughed at his face arguing he had no use for a soul like his. Post-reunion Swans’ unholy run of three albums, namely The Seer, To Be Kind and The Glowing Man, certified that Gira and co. had reached a musical ecstasy desired by many and achieved only by a few, and that a spirit binding contract was, thus, unnecessary.
Sandwiched between two of their most acclaimed releases, To Be Kind seems to have been driven by one of the most devastating existential crisis experienced by Gira. Going in you’ll be welcomed by an asphyxiating apathy which slowly evolves into hypnotic instrumental lunacy. Gira’s singing suffers a transfiguration throughout the album. It’s the sound of a man forlorn into his self-imposed quest for meaning, which mid-album ejaculates the overwhelming grandiosity of the infamous 34 minute epic combo baptized as “Bring The Sun/Toussaint L’Ouverture”. And the band tails the deranged frontman toe-to-toe, stretching from the unsettling calm of songs like “Some Things We Do” to the infuriated euphoria of enrapturing jams like “She Loves Us” or “Nathalie Neal”. Even if To…
There’s a case for any Hop Along album to be placed here, but Bark Your Head Off, Dog stands out as their most accessible and most innovative work. It saw them shift from releasing superior versions of the records every other indie band was churning out to making the record those bands *wished* they could. Bark… is equal parts coffee shop and arthouse, full of adventurous songwriting that sees the band eager to expand their sonic palette. It packs punchy hooks, but for every “Somewhere a Judge” there’s a “Look of Love.” Frances Quinlan is unafraid to meander here, yet she’s a mature enough writer that these parts are considerable assets. The best cuts combine both: “The Fox In Motion” and “Prior Things” are indie wet dreams, sophisticated arrangements supporting freeform vocal tour-de-forces. In a few years we may look at this as the album that ruined Hop Along; if that’s the case, they’ll have taken a sizable chunk of the hipsterverse with them. – Johnny
74. Casualties Of Cool – Casualties of Cool
Genre: Ambient/Blues/Country// Released: 2014
While Devin Townsend temporarily abandoned gonzo theatrical progressive metal for the sparse and spacious Casualties of Cool, his attention to sonic detail and willingness to fearlessly experiment made it a…
The version of Thrice that made Major/Minor was an enviously well-oiled machine, a savvy group of veterans effortlessly creating some of the best rock music of the decade. A natural conclusion to the band’s sonic transformation, in some alternate universe where the hiatus is a permanent break-up, Major/Minor is viewed as the perfect swan song. Thrice’s return five years later, however, does not make Anthology any less anthemic, nor negate Yellow Belly as the best opener in the band’s catalog, nor does it diminish the irresistible groove the Breckenridge Bros lock into on some songs. Teppei found many of his best textures and tones here (see Treading Paper and the underrated Blinded), and Dustin’s vocal performance (aside from some rehashed lyrical themes) is refined to the ideal mix of soul and grit. Everything fits together perfectly, making Major/Minor one of the best albums from one of the 21st century’s most reliably great bands. – BroFro
99. Cult Of Luna – Vertikal
Genre: Post Metal// Released: 2013
At once claustrophobic and expansive, Vertikal’s oppressive, dismal industrial atmosphere builds titanic walls around you that slowly but surely close in, crushing all in their path. Opener The One explores decaying brutalist synth tones punctuated by distorted kicks; the totalitarian mood further probed for I: The…
The Weeknd – “House Of Balloons / Glass Table Girls”
This is one party that I wish I wasn’t so late to. Hell, by the time I got there the party was over.
I discover The Weeknd when “Can’t Feel My Face” hits the airwaves in 2015, which I think is a catchy tune so I download it. I check out samples of few other songs and decide it’s not for me. Yep, I’ll just stick with that one song and add it to my upbeat party mix. Cool.
Then comes 2016’s “Starboy” – which I hear at a night club/bar as I’m halfway to my goal of not remembering a damn thing from the night – and I think to myself that it’s the greatest fucking song ever. Spoiler: it isn’t, but consuming copious amounts of alcohol helps.
Skip ahead four years and After Hours is receiving all kinds of acclaim on sputnikmusic dot com; I’m skeptical, but I dive in. As I’m clicking “play”, I peruse the album’s ratings and I see that Doof gave it a 2/5. I immediately raise one eyebrow and my expectations as well.
Fast-forward another two hours and I’m finding After Hours to scratch an itch that R&B rarely does for me. I slap an admittedly hasty 4/5 on it,but I still find myself more intrigued by everyone’s comparisons to this “Trilogy.” I press on, and download the whole thing on an impulse.
As House of Balloons begins, I’m immediately sucked into…
Can desire best be described as a train running into a tunnel? In popular culture, desire is rarely written with the nuance (or maybe, the trepidation) it deserves, reduced as it is to the slickest surface of its skin and hardly deeper. Sex is a commodity that enforces possession and hierarchy, something to receive or give depending on a narrative. In music production, we can find erotic platitudes that extend the length of an appendage environed by the digital squalor of diamond-studded algorithms. Pop music, great trains, running into tunnels: sex as a deliberate force acted upon us by the external forces we internalize and, by god, in turn, externalize. Art as submissive constructs to societal norms. If not trains, what then?
The answer Jenny Hval offers is immediate, though you’d be forgiven for thinking it the iconic opening gambit: “I arrived in town / with an electric toothbrush / pressed against my clitoris.” Rather, we are drawn inward by the quiet intensity of her arrangements, in the discordant ambiance that slowly envelops the stark percussive elements. There is a timeless quality to the mixture of industrial and folk music, in the glacial way the tracks erode and subside only to build into discomfiting calamity. The songs unspool with seeming spontaneity…
It’s strange that a twenty-year-old has seemingly been through it all. Julien Baker sings and plays with such confidence and writes about such harrowing circumstances that it’s easy to forget she was barely out of her teens when recording Sprained Ankle. Eight guitar songs and one piano track are all it takes to convey Baker’s rock bottom. Sprained Ankle was recommended to me by a dear friend shortly after I had hit rock bottom in my life. It’s hard to even articulate what this album did for me emotionally. It’s like salt into wounds except that’s exactly what you need. Much of the subject matter here is Christian related which normally does nothing for me, but Baker’s blunt lyricism and blunt songwriting have me singing along like I’m in the pews at church. Julien Baker says what she means and says it loudly. Sparse arrangements and forthcoming lyrics allow Baker to get straight to the point and get you completely broken down in just over thirty-three minutes. She could offer an emotional cleansing service with this album. Go ahead and cry the next time you spin Sprained Ankle; it’s all right, everybody does. –Trebor.
One of the graver losses of the 2010s, Fair to Midland outdid themselves with sophomore (and ultimately final) album Arrows and Anchors. While the band have straddled genres from alternative, metal, folk, and prog throughout debut Fables from a Mayfly, Arrows and Anchors managed to tighten up the band’s genre fusion, drive the sound into heavier territory, dial up the catchiness of nearly every track on the LP, and reinvent timeless children’s story Rikki Tikki Tavi into something you can headbang your brains out to. Need I say more?
Darroh Sudderth’s vocals remain as iconic as ever, warbling with passion as he projects clever twists of common sayings over fuzzed out guitars sparkled up by just enough keyboard to transform a dirt foundation into a more respectable pavement. Describing Arrows and Anchors can sound almost formulaic, but each and every track is just so much fun that it’s hard to care. While every track manipulates the ratio of keyboard twinkle to guitar crunch to similar spectacular results, the meat of each is seasoned just appropriately enough to feel freash and fun. There’s an undeniable menagerie of influence and expertise compiled into Arrows and Anchors, but ultimately it’s the the levity of the music and lyrics like “If…
Over the past two decades mewithoutYou have been ever present, but not necessarily in the foreground, in comparison to their peers. However, unlike many of the bands they have played alongside, mewithoutYou are more relevant than ever, even as they plan on disbanding. [Untitled] starts off unrelenting with “9:27a.m., 7/29” until “[Dormouse Sighs]” provides a brooding release from a three song barrage of chaotic harmony. Where mewithoutYou shine is found in their ability to balance emotion and volume. That balance blows past albums away with how seamlessly [Untitled] transitions from song to song. From “2,459 Miles” to “Wendy & Betsy” to “New Wine, New Skins” provide some of most graceful yet ferocious moments. [Untitled] provides a glimpse at how mewithoutYou have learned to adapt and evolve with time, especially coming off their landmark effort in Pale Horses. Look no further than the post-hardcore ballad in “Julia (or, ‘Holy to the LORD’ on the Bells of Horses),” where every element feels perfectly placed and timed. As mewithoutYou wind down, they leave a blueprint for the next decade of upstart alternative rock bands to follow.–IsItLuck?
The urge to repost lyrics in lieu of a blurb? Strong. (In all caps, obviously.) Maybe italicised, maybe emboldened, undoubtedly justified. That’d require, though, some prior knowledge of the album, its melodies; and as much as I’d like it to be, this isn’t karaoke. (You might as well listen to the album; not a bad idea.) A case regardless:
Despite my unfortunate Australian identity, On the Impossible Past makes me feel American. A weird thing, I imagine; after all, I don’t feel Japanese driving my girlfrend’s Toyota, listening to Kero Kero Bonito. (Make a bounce playlist: start with Iggy, transition into KKB’s ‘Trampoline’. You won’t regret it, I promise.) It’s testament, though, to the impressive songwriting capacity of the band’s two frontmen, Greg Barnett and Tom May — their underwrought narratives, and the ease with which one relates to them. And though it’s far from the album’s best song (fans could debate this forever), nowhere is this better epitomised than on closer ‘Freedom Bridge’, a song that anthemises (with irony, of course) suicide, detailing in vignette-form the short lives of victims of the so-called American dream. It is, as far as I’m concerned, a perfect (pop) punk song, perfect in its capacity to make earnest and powerful a line that would…
lol owned u guys so hard. April fools! get rekt losers!!
Can’t give y’all the decade list just yet (altho expect it soon!). Instead, here’s the next best thing: the OFFICIAL Sputnikmusic Staff’s ranking of the Top 50 Songs of 2018!
Me and the boys have been working hard on refining this since November of ’18, arguing intently for months on end as to which song belongs where, whether some of us listen to too much K-pop, where robertsona’s blurbs are, and so on. Nonetheless, I assure you that the below ranking is as accurate as we can possibly get it and we hope you guys appreciate the work.
I’d note in advance for you that some of the blurbs may be a little dated at this point (but really, I feel like you guys won’t even notice). Anyway, much love from all of us, and stay safe out there (note: for most of you, “out there” should be inside)!
50. “Baby Pink” – Moe Shop
This one radiates good vibes, and idk I just feel like the next few years are gonna be smooth freakin’ sailing for everyone.
49. “The Joke” – Brandi Carlile
Just a funny song about crackin’ silly jokes with the fellas. This would actually be so fitting for a list published on April Fool’s day, but sadly this list will
Lost in the wave of protest songs that washed over us from 2016-2019 is perhaps one of the most important messages to come out of the entire decade. “Noble Soldier/Dystopian Lament” is the curtain call and thematic crux of 2018’s Vitriola – an album whose overarching themes damn both politics and society, deeming both “fucked” as guitar chords slash away at listeners’ optimism. Lead vocalist Tim Kasher laments the abuse of power and financial wealth, self-prioritizing civilizations, and endless finger-pointing – frequently wrapping it all up into plainly stated disgust. The culmination of this miserable album is this seven minute all-damning epic, in which Kasher lists a series of things that used to give him hope, then swats down each one with a reason why it is corrupted:
I used to fall for love For family and for friends I used to fall for unity Despite our differences I used to fall for trust The decency of man I used to fall for secrecy ‘Til a neighbor played my hand I used to fall for math A universal truth I used to fall for science books Until they were removed I used to fall for hope The promise of our youth I used to fall for change ‘Til our youth became recruits I used to fall for currency To dictate what I’m worth I used to fall for ancestry Now I know we’re fucked from birth I used to fall for news I’d check…
When I first reviewed Aviary, I surmised: “At fifteen tracks, each hovering in the six-to-nine minute range, Aviary presents a daunting task. It’s a world that requires dedicated immersion; a commitment to its unwieldy time length but also a staunch distancing that allows you to engage its thousands of intricacies. It’s like a dot painting; there’s plenty that can be observed up close, but it’s prudent to step back and see the entire picture for what it was intended to be.” While that remains true of the album in its entirety, I’d like to think that “I Shall Love 2” does a damn fine job of capturing all of the record’s best traits in a tiny gorgeous bubble. Holter breathes enticing melodies into the music seemingly without effort, and they swirl around like leaves caught in an updraft – wispy and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Chimes echo, strings swell from miles off, drums clatter, and electronics bubble and murmur. Her voice sways with the flow of the song, adding in a gorgeous hum or chirpy quip in spurts and however the music dictates. A grander nature surrounds this mini-opus, and it feels as though Holter is merely observant, as opposed to in charge. It all feels very autumn-esque, and it’s hands down one of the most beautifully picturesque tracks of her entire career.
Read more from this decade at my homepage for Sowing’s Songs of the Decade.
Magdalene is backloaded with some of FKA Twigs strongest individual tracks to date. ‘fallen alien’ is a career highlight and immediate song of 2019 contender, possessing one of the most rhythmically complex and aesthetically rich atmospheres that she’s ever crafted. The track commences with gentle piano notes and electronic effects that are jolted to the forefront with the synth-equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. FKA Twigs’ opening verses are then interrupted by extremely high-pitched, digitally-altered chants of “I feel the lightning blast”, and it’s clear that this is going to be the most epic bid on all of Magdalene. Thematically, the song again deals with relationships gone awry – in this case, that feeling of claustrophobia when you sense that someone is restricting your potential: “I never thought that you would be the one to tie me down…but you did.” FKA Twigs went on record confirming as much, stating, “For me, it’s that line, When the lights are on, I know you/When you fall asleep, I’ll kick you down/By the way you fell, I know you/Now you’re on your knees. You’re just so sick of somebody’s bullshit, you’re just taking it all day, and then you’re in bed next to them, and you’re just like, ‘I can’t take this anymore’.” Of course, as per Twigs’ reputation, the song’s motives aren’t overly transparent – so while such meaning can be derived through interpretation, ‘fallen alien’ is, at least from a technical/musical standpoint, an absolute blast.…
