I think this column in the New Yorker brilliantly sums up the way I feel about lists and the simple fact that it has become impossible to listen to all the music the year has to offer. Do we go for the obvious choices? Do we follow the trends? Do we stick to our favourites or jump onto the new sensation bandwagons?
I’m not here to give any answer to any of these questions.
There’s a lot of music I’ve disliked this year, and there’s quite a bit of music I’ve really, really liked, too.
The following are the 10 albums that have made me the happiest about taking my bike and hitting the record stores.

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Battles – Gloss Drop

Superbands are, by definition, a sum of their parts, for better or for worse. What makes a superband work is the concentration of its individual voices into a cohesive whole, when you stop thinking about the different players but rather focus on their concerted effort as their new means of expression. And when you talk about Battles, the result is distinctively idiosyncratic: a little Helmet, a little Don Caballero, a little Bartok, a lot of Tom and Jerry. At least, that was Mirrored, and Tyondai Braxton’s playful use of samples, vocal lines, vocoders and warped autotune presets.
With Braxton gone, Williams, Konopka and Stanier had to come up with a new formula. With a debut album like Mirrored, there is no obvious next step: reproducing its sound would be out of the question, and going back to the EP templates would feel like a step back. And, miraculously, Gloss Drop is its own thing, a Braxton-less Battles that doesn’t feel like something is missing. Williams clearly steps forward in the record, as the live performances suggest, but the rhythm section feels also more present, more instinctual, and definitely more dance-oriented. The interplay between the core members feels more organic on tracks like “futura” or “wall street”, and when they let guests fill in as vocalists, the result is closer to a straight bona-fide Battles pop song than ever before (if you have not seen the Gary Numan cameo in My Machines, you’re missing out on one of the great videos of the year, too.)
With Gloss Drop Battles find a new breath and prove that they are as relevant and vital as ever.

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Elbow – Build A Rocket Boys!

I’ve learnt to lower my expectations this year. Bands that I’ve loved came out of hiding with diminishing returns, more often than not. But that’s the thing about relationships: sometimes you just drift apart, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And that’s the thing about expectations, too: never place them too high, or let anyone place them too high for you.
Fortunately for Elbow, the press never seemed to want to mythologize them more than they needed, at least outside of England. In fact, at this point they are becoming almost criminally underrated.
None of their releases are hailed as “events”, they don’t come with elaborate multimedia adventures. They come with great songs, though. I’m not sure Elbow ever felt the need to radically reinvent themselves, and I don’t think they would have to anyway. Their formula might not be groundbreaking, but their honesty as songwriters and musicians sets them apart from many of their peers, younger or not. Their music feels lived in, and sometimes that’s all you need.
Because I’ve always felt more comfortable in my worn-out shirt than in the emperor’s new clothes.

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Feist – Metals

I don’t mean to praise a record by criticizing another, but in a year marked by a certain disappointment with comeback albums, listening to Metals comes as a relief. While it is a departure from her breakthrough hit The Reminder, Feist’s new record still largely focuses on her most marketable gift. As far as I’m concerned, Feist has no rivals as a vocalist: honey-tinged rather than crystal clear, powerful but not owerpowering. It’s like Brandy Alexander in a song.
The arrangements, the production, and the careful mixing highlight the singer’s voice in ways that are reminiscent of Joni Mitchell’s 1970s period: she is not above the rest, but every other instrument complements her singing.
The recording itself is remarkable: dynamic, sparse yet spacious, and more restrained than its predecessor. This truly is an album to savour at night, on a good stereo with adequate speakers.
Not as obviously iPod-friendly, Metals ultimately rewards the listener for its cohesion and its subtle arrangements, and its overall darker tone doesn’t diminish its staying power. Quite the contrary.
Let’s hope we won’t have to wait another 4 years next time.

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Ben Frost/Daniel Bjarnason – Solaris

Readers of this blog will already know about my obsession with Ben Frost, and with Bedroom Community in general. As a label the Iceland-based collective has been delivering one stellar release after another, from neo-classical compositions to intriguing explorations of American Folk music to, well, Ben Frost.
Few artists in recent years have had such a powerful impact on how I feel about music, and what makes music. His visceral approach to sound manipulation, guitar textures and restrained instrumentation have an enormous visual potential without being overtly cinematic. and this is why Solaris works so well.
Of course it’s not just Frost’s doing. The orchestral arrangements and prepared piano parts are the unmistakable touches of Bjarnason, and both artists meet at the crossroad as it were, to re-create a soundtrack to one of the most enigmatic science fiction movies ever directed. But, as is the case for all great soundtracks, they exist on their own right. Sure, they are enhanced by the visual medium, but listening to them separately creates its own particular experience. Here, everything moves at a glacial pace, but the subtle changes and repetitions and inner motifs hint at the inner drama unfolding: drops of treated piano, plaintive strings, distant hums and sheets of white noise. And by the time the last chords ebb away, you realize how affecting the process has been without resorting to cheaper, Hollywood-style tricks.
If you ever wondered how lonely interstellar space travel can be, this record would be an accurate description. It would sound like this, and it would feel like winter.

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Mastodon – The Hunter

I’m not a metal purist. I’m not even that much into metal. But I love every single Mastodon album, from the early growling releases to the ambitious prog-driven Magnum Opus Crack The Skye. There is just so much raw energy, so much inventiveness in the rhythm structures of their songs. Of course, there’s enough riffage to choke a horse, but the way I see it, Mastodon truly shines thanks to Brann Dailor.
Too many mainstream bands play it straight to the point of boredom, or, to the opposite end of the spectrum, their use of odd time signatures feels so forced and contrived that you can’t help noticing they’re just trying too hard. But Dailor’s drumming is so effective that all his efforts seem effortless, and this has always been the strength and the backbone of Mastodon.
Of course, you can’t have a great album without great songs, and even though I can’t say The Hunter is the band at the height of their powers, as a mainstream heavy rock album it is the best of 2011. Never mind what the purists say: it isn’t metal, it isn’t pop, it isn’t crossover. It is bloody good fun, though. And in a musical decade that is distinguishing itself by the abysmal quality of its mainstream releases, The Hunter feels like a miracle.
Now, Josh Homme, hurry up and top this soon, yes?

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Mogwai – Hardcore Will Never Die But You Will

Ah, faith. Just when you think it’s over for good, the musical gods send you a reminder of their all-power.
I have to admit, I was disappointed by Mr Beast and the Hawk is Howling. The records seemed almost too loud for no real purpose and lost a lot of the dynamic outbursts that had cemented Mogwai among the luminaries of post-rock. Or maybe post-rock could only go so far without some game-changing retooling? And what is still considered post-rock, anyway?
Hardcore doesn’t try to answer the question. Instead, it takes the better elements of the previous recent albums and crystallizes them with more precise songwriting, more effective instrumentation and a heightened sense of purpose. The result is a very strong collection of tunes, instrumental or otherwise. “Rano Pano” and “You’re Lionel Richie” probably deserve spots in an all-career high, which is not a small feat considering the band’s longevity at this point. And if I have to sit through autotuned vocals, at least let Mogwai completely mess them up to show me how ridiculous a human can sound with excessive tweaking.
I wasn’t hoping for much, and I was thankfully proven wrong. Expectations, once again…

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Russian Circles – Empros

I was wondering where Russian Circles would go after Geneva: the songs had taken an expansive, mellower turn, and the inclusion of strings and horns gave the album its poised elegance. In short, Geneva had opened up new possibilities for the trio. Where they would decide to go could be anybody’s guess.
I guess I didn’t see Empros coming then. Not that it departs radically from the Russian Circles trademark sound (layered bass-heavy riffs, ingenious guitar looping, relentlessly inventive drumming), but it distills all these elements into perfect concoctions. Not a note is wasted, not a moment is lost. Every track is perfectly composed and nuanced, melodic but never too obvious. The heaviness of the record doesn’t come out as forced, but is actually necessary to reveal its inherent beauty.
Russian Circles have matured so much as a band that the interplay between them borders on the telepathic, something that becomes even more apparent when you see them live. Empros has a sense of direction and purpose that surpasses its predecessors, and sets the trio apart in their field.
I’ve probably listened to Empros more often than any other record since it came out, and every time my only complaint is that it almost feels too short.
But then I hit repeat, and the problem is solved.

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Colin Stetson – New History Warfare Volume II: Judges

I think there has been a “before/after” type of paradigm shift about Colin Stetson. And I’m not sure what else I can add to what I previously wrote here.
Except that I had written that blog before seeing him live, and nothing prepares you to that experience.
This is what music should be all about: total dedication to an idea, an instrument, a singular approach to making new forms with old things.
Without a doubt my favourite record of the year.

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Tom Waits – Bad As Me

Sometimes I wonder how to write about Tom Waits without resorting to the same old cliches: the bourbon-soaked voice, the bric-a-brac arrangements, the Brecht-meets-Bauhaus aesthetic… and then I realise that writing about Tom Waits is pointless. Because the cliches write themselves, the imagery is so idiosyncratic that it creates its own legend. And each release adds a facet to Tom Waits’s mythology.
In Bad as Me, it’s Elvis, for example, in “get lost”. Try not to shake your hips like it’s still 1957.
The first collection of originals since 2004’s Real Gone, Bad as Me is also an ideal entry point to discover Waits’s wonderful world: beautifully recorded, the album has more variety and dynamics than his work in the past decade, and even sounds as instantly accessible as any Tom Waits album could ever be since Rain Dogs .
Some artists should know when to call it quits before they dilute their work with unnecessary diversions. Others only get better, and more relevant. Tom Waits only becomes more Tom Waits. And I will always be thankful for having him.
This is a cliche, but it’s the only thing that’s true.

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Wilco – The Whole Love

Expectations, once again. I don’t think Wilco ever disappointed me as a music lover. I might not like all their albums as much, but there isn’t a single record in their discography that I never listen to. And The Whole Love seems to be getting really close to Yankee Foxtrot Hotel and Summerteeth in my personal favourites.
The new album finds the band in superlative form: from Glenn Kotche’s peerless drumming to Nels Cline’s spidery guitar lines, each song is beautifully crafted, wonderfully recorded, and always genuinely heartfelt. Jeff Tweedy has always had a way with the poetry of simple images, and The Whole Love is no exception: listen to “Rising red lung” or “one Sunday morning” for an example of honest-to-goodness songwriting.
At this point in their career, Wilco could do anything. They have been experimental, they have delved deeply into Americana, and they have done all this with a sense of wonder and excitement that has always prevented them from becoming too pretentious or self-indulgent. And as a listener, it is immensely rewarding to listen to an album of such levels of musicianship.
The Whole Love is not the best album in this list, but it is the most accomplished.
Then again, I would expect nothing less from Wilco…

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Bring it on, 2012!

To be continued soon

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For better audio quality:
One Year (September is coming soon) by amberhaze

When is the last time you listened to something truly new, something that bears no resemblance to anything you’ve heard before, something that invites, requires a vocabulary you never used for music? An experience like this is a rare and precious thing. It is also a frightening one, when you are faced with an object that both fascinates and eludes you, like the dream you keep trying to remember.

I often dream in music. In my dreams, the songs always develop into strange themes, held together by this gossamer logic of things oneiric. They make sense as they are, sound like nothing I have ever recorded before, and yet they sound so familiar. They sound as though they had always been there, as though they had always belonged to my subconscious. Or everybody’s, maybe.
These dream pieces don’t really exist within a specific time-frame, devoid of clear spatial references, and yet they are fully formed and self-contained. They get to the essence of music without the cumbersome baggage of conscious thought and excessive rationalisation.
But then I wake up, and they are gone forever.

Listening to Colin Stetson’s new album, New History Warfare Vol.II: Judges, reminds me of this dream state I often find myself in, and it is an encounter hard to describe if you haven’t already felt it for yourself. I’m consciously using the verb feel rather than hear or listen, because the record works on more sensory levels.
As an artistic statement, few albums have matched its cogency and sense of purpose in recent memory, and as a musical journey it brings you as close to this unattainable source of pure music as possible without ever losing its immediacy and accessibility. As uncompromising as Stetson’s aesthetic principles may seem, they are made of the simplest, most elemental components of music in its essence: sound, pulse, vibration, tension, release.

Judges

Stetson describes the process involved in the recording of the album in his Pitchfork interview, and the review does an admirable job describing to what extent the resulting sound deeply affects the listener. This atavistic return to an organic form feels even more miraculous as it takes place in a period over-reliant on electronics, which has made looping and overdubbing almost too easy to use, and abuse. How well do you know yourself, your instrument, if you don’t push it to its (un)natural limits?
The Silent Ballet, usually shy about undeserved superlatives, makes a case for the record’s importance in its groundbreaking approach and dedication to a single instrument, and watching Stetson play Judges makes it abundantly clear. This goes beyond mere performance: there is a visceral response to what he does that transcends styles, genres and musical boundaries. Is this jazz, contemporary, avant-garde? Does it even matter?

red horse (Judges II)

Of course, Stetson did not make Judges in a complete vacuum, and the roster of collaborators speaks volumes about the place this particular record should keep in your personal pantheon if you have been following the Montreal instrumental scene. Or Ben Frost.
As the man in charge of mixing 24 different tracks of the same take, I can only imagine the insanity of the task. Then again, it’s Ben Frost we’re talking about. There is not a sound or vibration wasted: clicks and pads become percussive patterns, breathing pauses take a life of their own, and the entire range of the bass saxophone overtones is emphasized in the same nocturnal way wolves and otherworldly textures were used to fill the space between fear and familiarity in By The Throat.

Listen to Red Horse for example. This is the music you’ve always had in the back of your head: deceptively simple, organic and visceral. It could have been conjured up centuries ago, and our descendants will feel it with the same primal intensity. It comes without artifice, without pretense. It just is what it is, pure music, not unlike ancient chants, or Bach’s Goldberg Aria.

Colin Stetson – Fear of the unknown and The Blazing Sun by Inc4estimation

In the end, and most importantly, this is what makes the strength of New History Warfare, Volume II. It can be as experimental and leftfield as you want it to be, but there is no denying its immediacy. The experience is so engrossing that I surprised myself craving for it once
fear of the unknown and the blazing sun gave way to in love and justice and its ominously enigmatic ending. And at the same time, I was relieved that music of this caliber would, and should, retain a spirit of genuine humility.
I was showing those videos to the kids this morning, and watching them intently studying the monstrous size of the instrument, instinctively keeping the natural beat of the songs, unable to avert their curious gaze, I knew Stetson had reached what few have: a sense of wonder.

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Colin Stetson is playing at the Drake on Friday, 26th of August. Tickets are sold at the usual outlets. I really can’t wait.

One of the highlights of the year so far. That was last Monday at the Sound Academy.
What a difference two days make.

RIP Gerard Smith.

…And before you know it April’s almost over, and I’m almost 34.
Things have been quieter than usual over here. Canadian Music week was fun, but that was over a month and a half ago, and for some reason I’ve found it hard to focus on music lately. And even though the experience of playing in such a huge festival was positive overall, it sometimes feels that your showcase is just a drip in an ocean of bands competing for some elusive buzz, and I’m not sure I want to play that game…

There is more on the subject, and I suppose I’ll write about it soon, but in a way this past month and a half has shifted some of my priorities and altered a perspective that I had spent a few years building. It’s not a bad thing, mind you, au contraire. But it’s change, and change takes a while to set in. Let’s just say for now that what is going on in the ‘real’ world has somehow been making more sense and becoming more important than, you know, chasing blogs and making it…

Now, this doesn’t mean the end, if you are reading and are suddenly getting worried. It’s not even a hiatus. You probably won’t see the difference, which is good. New tracks should see the light of day in the coming weeks, or months. And ultimately, isn’t it what really matters? You lose track of music per se unless you decide to take a measured step back from time to time. And right now, for me, it feels really healthy.

There are a few things I’d like to write about. Some of them are trivial, some of them really matter to me, and I suppose they could matter to you, too. Stick around if you’d like.

Artist: Amberhaze
Album Title: Raleigh EP
Catalog No.: KWR010
Format: Digital only
Street Date: 11 January 2011
Label: KittyWu Records

On the record
This is my first winter in a while. After living on the equator for so long, you forget what makes cold seasons so special: the light changes, the nights grow longer, things become still and then it starts snowing..
I hadn’t seen snow in a while, either. Or leaves falling.
These are some of the landscapes that you will find here. Places play a major part in the way I see music, and this new EP is a collection of sketches about this new life in Toronto. For a big city, it sure is quiet and contemplative.
It really feels like home now.

This is a collection of songs recorded at home, at night, on the brink of winter. There’s a railroad track right across the street.
I hadn’t seen trains in a while, now that I think about it.

New beginnings. New horizons. New soundscapes.
I hope you will enjoy them. They are for you.
- Giuliano (Amberhaze) , 11.1.11

track by track

I took pictures around my neighbourhood as the primary source of inspiration for my EP. The drawing for ‘Igloos and Forts’ was made by Luca. The photo for ‘Vermont Square (first snow)’ was taken by Joanne.
The art direction was lovingly rendered by Errol, once again. I thank him and the KittyWu family for the support and friendship, which goes well beyond this EP.

1 pumpkinseed

Halloween night
Annex mansions and dinosaur kids
The first chill of the year
Empty streets and skulls swung from the branches
under sodium lights
way past bedtime.

2 Howland

The streets were meant for bicycles here. This is what an early morning ride feels like.

3 From Foxpoint to Vermont Square

December is about falling in love. It’s about meeting when you know you have to leave. It’s about walking to Fox Point (then) in the snow and adjusting your pace to hers. It’s about remembering why you fell in love ten years ago, why you fell in love with a lock of hair on her neck or the position of her hands on a table, and feel it even more so now.
It becomes too easy to take for granted, and it never should.
And as the leaves fall on Vermont Square (now), we know this much.

4 Igloos and Forts

I remember the first snowballs I made with my father. And the red sled they bought me to slide down the park slope. We started an igloo but didn’t finish it.
The slope was not that steep, and the igloo would have melted away, but that’s now how I remember it.
I wish I were still a child sometimes.

This is for Luca and Dante.

5 The C.P.R

What is it with trains? Why are we so fascinated by their inexorable machinery, their relentless progress as the tracks endlessly unfold?
The Canadian Pacific Railway goes on for 20000 kilometers.
And it stops right across the house.

6 The C.P.R (beyond Christie)

And at night, it sounds like this.

7 Vermont Square (fresh snow) – bonus track

(coda)

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We don’t make music in a vacuum. Our works exist and our pleasure lies in sharing them with you, wherever you are. Thank you for listening. Really. Share this if you think it would make someone else happy.
I can’t thank my parents, and Lisa and Thom, enough. For everything.
Once again, this is for J and the kids, and this love we share.

And once again, alphabetical order abides.

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1. Sam Amidon – I See The Sign

My love affair with Bedroom Community started early this year when I finally got a chance to listen to Ben Frost’s By the Throat, and irrevocably fell under its (and his) spell. There was something truly new and exciting, a record as radical and experimental as it was simple and accessible. Everything was recorded at the Bedroom Community’s headquarters, Greenhouse Studios, under Valgeir Sigurdsson, who in my opinion, is largely responsible for Bjork’s only great CD of the past decade. More importantly, the album placed itself in a certain artistic vision and aesthetic of the record as craft more than a commercial product. And as record labels go, very few can compete with this Icelandic collective, in terms of cogency and sonic palette.
I see the sign will become timeless, a delicate balancing act between American folk tradition and avant-garde electronic flourishes. And tagging it under folktronica would totally miss the point of the record: it does not follow the trends and obvious sonic tricks of the genre; instead it charts new territories through well-worn melodies.
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2. Arcade Fire – The Suburbs

I find it amusing that most magazines, blogs and influential tastemakers eventually looked at this record with a certain elitist disdain on the grounds that it tried to make Arcade Fire the biggest band in the world right now, as though popular acclaim by the masses somehow necessarily equates musical mediocrity. Some critics also pointed out that the subject matter was part of the problem, because, you know, it’s ok for an artful indie band to delve on death and religious fervour, but growing pains, puh-leaze…
Well I’m sorry critics: Arcade Fire still got it, and they got it good. As songsmiths, there is no denying their artistic integrity and credibility, and the fact that they are extending their reach while retaining their unique sense of urgency is all to their credit. Some of us have no need for spiritual exploration, some of us have not experienced the pain of our loved ones’ passing, but we all felt the alienation of teenagehood, and this is why The Suburbs is stirring, and a very important record. An artistic statement that cements the Montreal collective as one of the very few acts that can succeed on a global scale without sacrificing what they still proudly stand for..
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3. The Bad Plus – Never Stop

“What? No covers?” would be the first, normal, reaction to this album. After all, the Bad Plus probably carved their own niche as jazz iconoclasts on the merits of their astute reinterpretation of popular music, thereby blurring genre boundaries and giving uptight purists the finger. But as much as their versions of ‘Smells like teen Spirit’ and ‘Velouria’ display a certain post-modern flair for tongue-in-cheek playfulness, there is also a self-referential aspect to them, and it would be a pity to reduce this wonderful trio to just that.
This album contains only originals and expands upon the musicians’ individual strengths: Ethan Iverson’s idiosyncratic piano phrasing and dexterity, David King’s gentle pummeling and keen sense for Americana, and especially Reid Anderson’s late-Romantic sensibility. This Stravinsky-meets-Sabbath-meets-Schumann sound ultimately works best on its own terms, when you have tunes of this caliber, from Anderson’s soulful meanderings in ‘people like you’ to the lean and mean workouts that are usually the trademarks of Iverson and King.
Never stop, please.
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4. Daniel Bjarnason – Processions

What is it with Iceland? I remember reading an article about the typical households in different countries when I was a kid, and the picture of the Icelandic family showed way more books and musical instruments than all the other ones in that selection. Does the severity of the climate invite you to develop a sense for introspection, spend more time indoors on creative pursuits? And how could the music not be inspired by the atavistic beauty of the landscape?
Another stellar release from Bedroom Community, Bjarnason’s Processions is a double bill of sorts: a multi-tracked and slightly experimental cello piece is followed by a rather classically-formed piano concerto. What surprises the listener is the maturity of Bjarnason’s musical idiom: this is a collection that is bold and contemporary, urgent and visceral. It does not try to break new grounds or alienate its audience, because it doesn’t need to. Instead Processions (and especially its second half) achieves a miraculous task: it sheds new light on a 400 year-old idea.
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5. B quartet – Conformity Has Replaced Consciousness

“For a local band they sound really good”. This kind of comment always cracks me up. Unfortunately is also shows how music still has a long way to go in Singapore, and it is not for lack of trying on the musicians’ part. Does a remark like this imply that local audiences somehow expect local bands to be sub-par by default, or does it suggest that local audiences would rather just get into whatever international (and sometimes local) tastemakers dictate them to endorse, only to realise that local bands are capable of the same level of songcraft and artistic vision?
Duke Ellington had it right: there is only good or bad music. And in B-Quartet’s case, the answer is a no-brainer. They could be based in Brooklyn or Toronto and still be among the best of what those cities would have to offer, not because their music is local, but on the contrary, because it is universal. Conformity…might not be as immediately rewarding as their debut, but its richness lies in the intricacy of the arrangements and in Bani Haykal’s timbre. Very few singers can pull off the kind of vocal and lyrical pirouettes that come as second nature to him and not sound contrived or affected. The songs are beautifully executed and they retain their sense of urgency through Leonard Soosay’s expansive sound production.
Many Singaporean bands deserve to ‘make it big’ beyond their shores. B-Quartet deserves it the most.
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6. Matthew Dear – Black City

When Midnite Vultures came out, Beck had answered many a music geek’s prayer for the ultimate guilt-free party album: a record you could play from start to finish, safe in the certainty that it would get the job done. You could dance to it or simply enjoy it as a listener, and as a whole, it still stands the test of time as the sound of the end of a carefree decade.
Black City is an updated version of Midnite Vultures, so to speak. But instead of its day-glo aesthetics and bright LA sheen, what we have here is a pulsating dance record dipped in the same dark matter that permeates the opening sequence of There Will be Blood. As a vision of a world filled with obsessions and the need for release, Black City is utterly compelling. I can imagine how these cuts would be infectious on the dance floor, but in my living room they work as well. Sleaze had not sounded so addictive since Trent Reznor asked us to get closer back in 1994.
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7. Charlotte Gainsbourg – irm

It was bound to happen. Few producers channel the ghost of Serge Gainsbourg as meticulously as Beck, as demonstrated by his Melody Nelson-influenced Sea Change. But even as you can appreciate that album on its own merits, the imprint of the French master is hard to shake off: he’d been there, done that, 30-odd years before. The fact that producers and engineers still try to emulate the Nelson sound speaks volumes about what Gainsbourg had achieved.
Maybe Beck needed a muse, and in this logic Charlotte Gainsbourg is the obvious choice. IRM borrows from such a rich lineage, of course, but it manages to retain its own identity, and it ultimately sounds like Beck’s best effort since Sea Change. Each song is exquisitely crafted and arranged, and the album has enough variety to invite (and command) repeated listens. It probably doesn’t fit in the ‘in’ sound of 2010, which is a good thing: we’ll still be listening to this one years from now.
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8. Her Name Is Calla – The Quiet Lamb

Sometimes the Internet does things right. An album like The Quiet Lamb would not have been possible even a couple of years ago: band members living in different parts of the UK, self-produced and self-assembled recordings sent online, and a resolutely DIY attitude towards promotion and marketing. This kind of modus operandi has now become the ubiquitous bedroom-pop artists’ bread-and-butter, but it rarely showcases the heights and ambitions displayed in this particular record. The compositions are long without overstaying their welcome, the sound is dynamic without resorting to the facile fake loudness of today’s self-made projects, and the attention to details results in a terrific (and terrifying) album.
Her Name Is Calla understand the trappings of a certain idea of post-rock: there is only so much that you can still achieve through the soft/loud/soft/loudest paradigm of old, or the more recent incessant barrage of saturated guitars and pummeling drums, which eventually flatten one’s initial jolt down to a rather linear response. The Quiet Lamb is a music of peaks and valleys, filled with silence and tension, which is beautifully rendered through their extensive use of classical instruments and their eschewing of the tired tropes of the genre.
A stellar release.
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9. LCD Soundsystem – This Is Happening

Here’s a chicken-and-egg conundrum: what comes first, the hipster or the music? Was James Murphy an early inspiration for Brooklyn’s bros, or did said bros elevate LCD Soundsystem to the highest pedestal of hipster bon ton? Is the joke on the 40 year-old, or on his younger audience? After all, irony is the hipster’s credo, right?
Snide remarks aside, this is a terrific party record, and not unlike Matthew Dear’s, its pleasures are derived as much from its innate danceability as from its close listening’s staying power. Murphy borrows, of course, and glimpses of Kraftwerk are mashed-up with Eno-tinged guitars and New Wave synth patches, but it’s the songwriting that glues all of these disparate elements together. Wonderfully produced, This Is Happening is also one of the most dynamic records of the year, which should be a given in the genre it is usually associated with, but in fact isn’t. Listen to the first 3 minutes of ‘Dance yourself clean’ to finally have the whole song kicking in, your woofers suddenly bursting at the seams: you don’t get this kind of sonic depth in dance-ish music very often.
Is this the perfect album for people who are getting ‘too old for this shit’? I can’t say. But if James Murphy decides to call it quits, he will leave LCD Soundsystem with a bang and on a resounding high.
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10. Brad Mehldau – Highway Rider

Brad Mehldau is arguably the most gifted and inventive jazz pianist of the current generation, and after a 15 year career and a dozen releases, he is also finally establishing himself as one of its finest original composers. Not unlike the Bad Plus, Mehldau managed to blend a self-professed love for indie rock and pop music with an irreverent attitude towards the more rigid tenets of a certain idea of jazz. What sets him apart from the Minnesotan trio is his more introspective take on the material he covers, which is often accompanied with erudite (but never pedantic) essays as liner notes that namecheck Adorno and Schumann as much as Radiohead or Elliott Smith. This intellectual effort is not lost on the listener, far from it. His world is intensely personal, but his imagery is universal: love, longing, loss, nostalgia. His choice of covers has always exemplified how he wears his heart on his sleeve: listen to his live rendition of “Exit Music” or “River Man” to fully understand the devastating power of his sense of melody and improvisation.
Here though, he returns with his first collection of originals in a while, and a double album at that, augmenting the usual trio format with electro-acoustic instruments, a string section, and a Jon Brion treatment. Both artists had previously collaborated on the more hit-and-miss Largo, but here the formula works like a charm: the production benefits from Brion’s trademark warmth and organic sound, and Mehldau uses overdubs and electric textures with more restraint and sense of purpose. As double albums go, the 100-over minutes on offer here feel completely justified: Mehldau saw big, and we should thank him for that.
His masterpiece.
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Hors concours

I am David Sparkle – Swords

I’m only separating this record from the rest simply because of the slightly nepotistic nature of the choice. But all subjectivity and sense of label loyalty aside, the Sparkle boys have seriously upped the ante for their follow up to This is the New.
Not that their first release felt underwhelming or incomplete, far from it, but the effect here is akin to watching The Good the Bad and the Ugly on a restored 70mm print rather than the usual 16mm copy. Both have their charms, mind you, and I might still be more attached to their debut (partly on the merits of ‘Dance of Death’, which is still one of my favourite post-rock tunes overall), but Swords finds the band in fine form, and ready to ride all the way to the Apocalypse. They are, once again in this list, served by Leonard Soosay’s tight grip on the reins, as he manages to give the songs’ raw power the unbridled energy they deserved.
But for all the sheer wattage of the album’s more exuberant cuts, it’s their sentimental side that truly shines, with ‘Everybody Loves Somebody’ as the album’s highlight. The first time they played this song was for Errol and Lesley’s wedding party/concert. Fireworks above our heads.
There couldn’t have been a more fitting image to how this song will make you feel.

But this is the reality that most musicians face, one way or another.
1: You have a dayjob, you hate the fact that it takes time away from music, you can quit and do music full time. Not necessarily wise, but an option all the same.
2: You have kids, and it’s a different ball game. You can’t quit your kids, and you should never shortchange them either.
3: You are Coldplay, or Pink, or Gwen Stefani, and all is good in the world for you.

As much as I would like to put the finishing touches for the EP to be ready by next Friday, I have to be realistic here and concede that the next few days will probably mostly be about games, cartoons, walks in the snow and streetcar rides to the library. And there is nothing wrong with that actually. Childhood is a fleeting thing, it’s gone before you know it. I don’t want to miss theirs for a self-imposed deadline. And I don’t want to rush something I feel quite happy about when I know I could make it sound better with a little more time. And time, these days, is relative.

Sorry if you were expecting it on 1.1.11, but it will have to be on 11.1.11

I’ve been trying to finish up this new batch of songs for a few weeks now, and it turns out that being a full-time father is way more taxing and demanding than most jobs I can think of… It’s probably also the most satisfying and rewarding experience I’ve ever had, and now what we are spending Christmas and most of next week without J, it feels even more special.

But as much as I love the kids, and I love them more than I could express, there is still this urge to make music, make something that is personal. It’s not without its challenges, and it boils down to making the most of their time at kindergarten, or the quiet lull of the late evenings, where I usually have to remind myself that I still need to get up in the morning and try to get 6 hours of sleep…at least…

It’s been an eventful year. It started with a wonderful project I was lucky enough to collaborate on, after which most of our energies have been focused on preparing for the move, packing, leaving and settling down here. After almost four months it looks like home now, and our neighbourhood is great. One of my friends gave me one of his old bikes, and this has been the best way to discover the city, along with the street cars (take that, new mayor!). And more than anything else, the feeling of happiness on the boys’ faces for the smallest things (fresh snow, falling leaves, trips to the libraries) is all I should ever ask for to be really content. Unconditionally.

The Raleigh EP was inspired by these walks and bike rides, by autumn and colder nights, and by the train line that runs in front of our house. Here is the tracklist:

1 pumpkinseed
2 howland
3 vermont square
4 the C.P.R
5 igloos and forts

Recording is almost done, give or take a few audio tracks on the later tracks. I would consider them works in progress but not just simple demos, because I’ve been trying to give them a sound as close to what I have in mind as possible, but they come at a point where I feel like going somewhere else with my music. Hopefully I’ll be able to take them further in a second album later next year, but for now this seems to be an accurate document of how things are. And i would love to share this with you.

Wait for the new year. Thank you for listening, always.

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I’ve been recording more of late, and a lot of the music seems to be inspired by the time i spend walking and cycling in Toronto. The Fall is also affecting me in ways that I had forgotten, and while I tend to get more introverted this time of year, it does give me more time to explore new material and try new directions. It must be the long nights and the steady drop in temperature.
Or maybe just the fact that I seem to be focusing more on making new songs rather than finding gigs around town at the moment…

2010 started with a collaboration with Sonicbrat and a full hour of music devised and composed for the show.
It might very well end with an EP informed by where I now call home.