Jim Guthrie's Twenty Years and Thousand Songs

Jim Guthrie released his first cassette 20 years ago. I was living in Guelph, Ontario, and had a campus radio show; so did he. He was friends with Aaron Riches and Nathan Lawr and Nick Craine; so was I. But we didn’t know each other, and I didn’t know his music. Four years later I heard 1999’s A Thousand Songs, which compiled tracks from four self-released cassettes. Now, of course, the world has recognized the genius of Jim Guthrie, a book has been written about him (Who Needs What, by Andrew Hood, out this month on Invisible Publishing), and the label that was formed to release A Thousand Songs, Three Gut Records, is universally acknowledged as a catalyst to the sea change in Canadian music that made the likes of Broken Social Scene and Arcade Fire possible (both those bands—of course—are big Jim Guthrie fans).

But at the time, I thought something along the lines of: “Who is this time-frozen freak who wants to stay home and listen to Mel Tormé, rides bikes without chains halfway around the world, and has dreams of dirty fingernails? The guy who’s as ridiculous as Ween but as heartbreaking as Elliott Smith but with more bottom end and soul than either (‘shit yeah, I can dance’), is he some kind of lo-fi Lindsey Buckingham hooked on video games, subsisting on a diet of something known only as ‘curry toast’? Is this what would have happened if Paul McCartney ditched Wings to join German weirdoes Can? Did some tracks from a Ry Cooder soundtrack for Wim Wenders get thrown on here by mistake? Seriously, what the fuck is going on? There’s no way this could be the sound of a small-town guy who only picked up a guitar a year or two ago.”

And yet it was. And it was magical. And it was leaps and bounds ahead of anyone I’d heard in Guelph—or anywhere else. “Hey there, High Fidelity record-store clerks, I see your Beta Band’s Three EPs and I raise you A Thousand Songs. Get ready to fold.” Before I heard Guthrie’s music, I assumed his pals were hyperbolic when they hyped his genius, or were at least merely using the local teen punk scene as a low-bar benchmark. They weren’t.

There are tracks on A Thousand Songs where Guthrie sounds like Carl Sagan trapped in a black hole with Blade Runner synths swirling around him, or perhaps like one of Alvin’s chipmunks fucking around with a toy piano. There are times when he gets downright slinky (“Sexy Drummer,” “Wear in the World”) and even freaks out for the DJ booth (“Focus on Floor Care,” which should have been a 12” on Ninja Tune). Some tracks should be on a Hal Hartley soundtrack. Or Friday Night Lights. Many are full of interruptions: a phone ringing, the sounds of schoolkids next door, even a toilet flushing. A Thousand Songs conflates tiny moments of perfection and imperfection and dares you to tell the difference. It’s profound and profane. Most of all, it’s profoundly curious. Sometimes it’s just a guy screaming into a crappy microphone: “Wama-lama-ding-dong-wooooo-EEEEEE—woooo!!!!” Much like life itself.

Since then, Guthrie has released three more proper albums (Morning Noon Night, Now More Than Ever, Takes Time) and written plenty more material for ad agencies (“Hands in My Pocket”), indie films (Indie Game: The Movie), and odd collaborations (the most high-profile being Human Highway, a duo with superfan—and soundalike—Nick Thorburn of the Unicorns and Islands). His work for video games like Sword and Sworcery have introduced him to a whole new audience; old fans will be surprised to learn that his gaming work is infinitely more popular than any of these classic albums he’s re-releasing now.

To celebrate the 20^th anniversary of his first cassette—which included “I Don’t Wanna Be a Rock Star”—Guthrie is giving A Thousand Songs a re-release on 180-gram double vinyl with updated artwork. But that is not all—oh no, that is not all. With it comes a Bandcamp download code for 11 new re-recordings of songs from the album, made with his current live band and recorded by long-time confidant Andy Magoffin. This summer, Guthrie will also make available on Bandcamp all four of his early cassettes (only select material made it onto A Thousand Songs): Home is Where the Rock Is, Victim of Lo-Fi, Documenting Perks Part 1, Some Things You Should Know About Sound and Hearing). Finally, Who Needs What author Andrew Hood has compiled his own mix tape as a companion to the biography, available as a download with purchase of the book: it’s a career-spanning mix of Guthrie’s greatest non-hits of the past 20 years, including a full version of his Capital One ad, “Hands in My Pocket,” never before available. Indeed: who needs what? Take what you want, take what you need.

Twenty years on, A Thousand Songs no longer seems like such an aspirational, grandiose title after all.

Full disclosure: Jim Guthrie commissioned me to write this, offering to pay me in yet-to-be-determined culinary and vinyl treats, grooming tips, and a promise to never talk to me about cats. He's written his own thoughts on all of this noise here. 

Cleaning up 2014

Most of the records I reviewed in my January columns were left over from 2014, either albums I didn’t get around to writing about or that I only recently discovered thanks to other people’s year-end lists.

Essential listening: Lydia Ainsworth

Recommended: Kevin Hearn, Mo Kenney, Sturgill Simpson, Frazey Ford

Lydia Ainsworth – Right from the Real (Arbutus)

Raised in Toronto, schooled in Montreal and New York, now back in Toronto, Ainsworth is straight from the lineage of (obvious yet inevitable comparisons) Kate Bush, Bjork, Fever Ray and Grimes: a classically trained cellist who scores films and draws as much inspiration from visual art and dream states as she does music. Indeed, she says she wants her music to feel like “shivers caused from a lucid dream.” Mission accomplished. Ainsworth’s layered cello and electronics are entrancing; her voice is conventionally beautiful; her songs unconventionally arranged, tripping over time signatures and easily melding textures both natural and otherworldly with strong melodies tying everything together. Ainsworth has a good home on Montreal’s Arbutus Records—home of Grimes, Blue Hawaii, Braids and other wonderful weirdos—and she’s opened for Owen Pallett, another kindred spirit. But comparisons and compatriots are not even necessary when she’s made a debut album as strong as this. (Jan. 8)

Download: “Take Your Face Off,” “Moonstone,” “PSI”

Ian William Craig – A Turn of Breath (Recital)

This sounds like music playing in a gallery exhibit: ambient, evocative, slightly unsettling. Small wonder: Craig is primarily a visual artist in Vancouver, who also happens to make mysterious music employing his operatically trained voice and layered, decaying loops of ¼-inch tape, which creates strange, ghostly harmonies and textures. It’s intensely lonely music, seemingly the work of the last artist standing in a bombed-out city, alone with his machines and his melancholy, documenting the decay that surrounds him and struggling to find sunlight through clouds of dust. (Jan. 8)

Download: “Before Meaning Comes,” “Rooms,” “Second Lens”

Melanie De Biasio - No Deal (Pias)

Torch songs as they should be: slinky, seductive and sparse. This Belgian singer employs only a jazz trio of piano, bass and drums, a trio that lets De Biasio’s voice do all the heavy melodic lifting. No problem there. De Biasio’s vocals—firm and bold even at the most hushed volume—come off like Shirley Bassey on opioids. Close the doors, start up the fireplace, and crack open the red wine: this is for long winter nights. (Jan. 22)

Download: “The Flow,” “I’m Gonna Leave You,” “With All My Love”

F&M – At Sunset We Sing (independent)

This Edmonton folk trio bottomed out at the end of 2013. Two members lost a load of money in a condo fraud; two of them suffered broken bones as well (for those processing that math, guitarist/vocalist Ryan Anderson was the doubly unlucky one). So what to do? Escape to Portugal in search of inspiration and healing, of course. Can’t afford to go to Portugal? Check out a bunch of fado records from the library and load up on cheap Portugese wine to help get you through the cruel Edmonton winter. The result is their fifth album, steeped in the tradition of European melancholic drinking songs, the kind to which you raise your glass of optimism and try to forget your despair, with accordions, pianos, vibraphones and violins at hand. (Jan. 15)

Download: “And We Will Mend Our Broken Hearts,” “Kukushka,” “Take Me Out”

Frazey Ford – Indian Ocean (Nettwerk)

The late Memphis musician Teenie Hodges, best known for being Al Green’s guitarist and co-songwriter, showed up in two very different Canadian contexts in 2014. One was an appearance in the video for “Worst Behaviour,” by his nephew, Drake. The other was here, as part of the backing band for Be Good Tanya singer Frazey Ford, alongside his brothers Charles (organ) and Leroy (bass). It would be the last recording the legend ever made: the 68-year-old died shortly afterwards, of emphysema. The record is dedicated to him; it’s a worthy capper to his career, capturing much of what made Green’s rhythm section so seductive.

But Indian Ocean is not, of course, about the Hodges brothers. It’s about a Vancouver folk singer fully coming into her own on her second solo album. Ford’s ghostly lilt is suited perfectly to the subtle, smooth soul sounds heard on classic Al Green records. Where someone like Green is all about tension, repression and release—both sexual and spiritual—Ford, obviously, approaches the sound from the opposite angle: almost sneaking up on the melodies, nailing all the notes with seemingly minimal effort, and generally sounding like she’s dressed in flowing robes and reclining on a sofa while recording her vocals.

It’s hard not to be reminded of Cat Power’s 2006 album The Greatest, where that normally hushed singer also teamed up with Teenie Hodges and other Memphis musicians for a complete career makeover. It worked wonders for her; it should do even more for Ford, who is a far superior singer and doesn’t get bogged down in ballads, allowing the rhythm section to actually swing. Ford gets full points for leaning on two sympathetic backing vocalists, Caroline Ballhorn and former Mother Mother singer Debra Jean Creelman, who—like the band behind them—bring out the best from one of Canada’s most beguiling singers. (Jan. 8)

Download: “September Fields,” “Done,” “Natural Law”

Foxes in Fiction – Ontario Gothic (Orchid Tapes)

This ambient pop project by Oakville-raised, Brooklyn-based musician Warren Hildebrand was initially sparked by the mourning process after his younger teenage brother died; this most recent album is dedicated to another untimely death, of a 22-year-old friend. Hildebrand has said he wants his music to provide healing—a lofty ambition, granted, but not unreasonable. Here, on an album three years in the making, he takes his love of synth textures and tape experiments and writes lilting melodies on top, inviting guest singers and—in a small coup—string arranger Owen Pallett to flesh out his vision. It’s definitely dreamy, although somewhat emotionally detached, and fits comfortably between Cocteau Twins and Beach House. (Jan. 8)

Download: “Into the Fields,” “Ontario Gothic,” “Altars”

Jim Guthrie and Solid Mas – One Of These Days I’ll Get It Right (independent)

Jim Guthrie is on a roll. After returning to his solo career after almost a decade writing soundtracks and jingles, he released the 2013 masterstroke Takes Time and re-released his beloved 2003 album Now More Than Ever. Here, he’s turned over a bunch of tracks—snippets of previously released work, including his soundtrack to the hit video game Sword and Sworcery, as well as unreleased material—to hip-hop producer Solid Mas, who sets Guthrie’s layers of melodies and cinematic motifs to much funkier beats than he usually employs. Although it’s technically a remix album, Guthrie fans will have trouble tracing the source material—not that they should bother. Fans of ’90s Ninja Tune artists like Coldcut and the Herbaliser will also find plenty to chew on here. (Jan. 15)

Download: “And We Died Younger,” “Lenny Bones,” “Red Rust”

Kevin Hearn – Days in Frames (Roaring Girl)

(Full disclosure: I was hired to write Kevin Hearn’s bio for his promotional purposes. This is not that bio. I do, however, love this record, which of course is not true of every record I’m paid to write about.) 

From 2007 to 2013, Kevin Hearn was also the musical director for Lou Reed’s band, becoming quite close with the notorious legend and his wife, Laurie Anderson, before Reed died in 2013. What most people don’t know is that Hearn, whose main gig is with Barenaked Ladies, has quietly been making lovely albums of his own for much of the last decade, and Days in Frames might be his best. Hearn is a modest man; he sings like he speaks, with a quiet, inquisitive, conversational tone. His instrumental prowess is only evident on occasion; Hearn’s solo records are all songs and textures, utilizing dreamy synths, folky mandolins, and his 22-year-old relationship with the rhythm section of Great Bob Scott and Chris Gartner (all were once in the freaky prog-rock band Look People).

Losing Lou Reed, as well as an aunt to whom Hearn was very close, has the songwriter in a more melancholic mood than usual (“Up Above,” “Floating,” “Crossing Over”). Not that Hearn ever gets morbid; after all, he already survived several serious bouts with leukemia more than 10 years ago, with his humour and optimism emboldened. “Life is a beautiful puzzle and then you fall to pieces,” he sings; he sounds more bemused by life’s turn of events than thrown off course.

Because of both his talent and his reputation as a mensch for whom people want to do favours, Hearn pulls in a lot of top-notch help here: violinist Hugh Marsh (Bruce Cockburn, Mary Margaret O’Hara), Ron Sexsmith, Dan Hill, producer Gavin Brown (Billy Talent, Metric), mixer Tom Elmhirst (Adele, Amy Winehouse), and the other members of Reed’s band (who appear on the comical death-bed meditation “Floating”). Needless to say, it sounds like a million bucks.

Based on the snapshot of his life heard here, Hearn spends his days in art galleries, in Canada’s Far North, birdwatching, searching for the meaning he once found in cathedrals, and detailing a humdrum day with a wry eye. Hearn has stared down his own mortality and seen loved ones succumb to theirs; every lyric and note here is the work of a man who marvels in the tiny details and sounds of everyday life, finding the fantastical in our common experience—and then painting it with glorious sonic colours. (Jan. 1)

Download: “Gallerina,” “Cathedral,” “You Wrecked Me”

Mo Kenney – In My Dreams (New Scotland/Pheromone)

It takes a certain talent to concoct a catchy chorus with the lyrics, “Take me outside and blow my f--king head off.” That’s what Halifax singer/songwriter Mo Kenney does here, winning the dubious honour of Most Disturbing Earworm of 2014.

That’s the only thing remotely dubious about Kenney’s second album, however: that song and the nine others here introduce you to your favourite new Canadian songwriter. Produced by Joel Plaskett—who also shares all instrumental duties with Kenney, and put out the album on his own label—In My Dreams fleshes out her songs in a variety of contexts: sometimes she’s a young Nick Lowe or Elvis Costello, sometimes she’s Elliott Smith, sometimes she’s Norah Jones’s badass little sister, sometimes she’s a psychedelic balladeer. Plaskett’s influence is obvious, but hardly overbearing: Kenney’s striking voice and approach to songwriting easily stands apart. Whether it’s her own sense of economy or Plaskett’s editing, Kenney is the rare young artist who knows how to keep it brief: none of these songs are more than four minutes long; most are under three.

In My Dreams came out in September and slipped under the radar. Shame. Expect at the very least, however, to be hearing about her again at Polaris prize time in June. She plays Harbourfront Centre Theatre on March 21. (Jan. 1)

Download: “Take Me Outside,” “Telephones,” “Untouchable”

Sturgill Simpson  - Metamodern Sounds in Country Music (Hightop Mountain)

As someone who loves country music too much to witness what’s happened to most of it in recent years, I rely on other people’s year-end lists to catch up on what I missed. Last year it was the incredible Brandy Clark album, which deservedly got a few Grammy nominations a few weeks back. This year it’s this Kentucky native, who moved to Nashville four years ago to suddenly try and kickstart a country music career. He’s now 35 and just put out his second album in two years, standing out not just for his ’70s outlaw sound—drenched in reverb, embellished with rich organs and psychedelic guitars—but his lyrics, which touch on hallucinogenic drugs, Tibetan Buddhism and string theory. Simpson can play it straight enough to win over an Opry crowd, or can freak out completely with lots of backwards tape and dub reggae influence on the wild closing track, “It Ain’t All Flowers,” which ventures into corners no pure country artist has dared to tread in eons, if ever.

Sturgill tries out two cover versions that reveal a lot about his duality. One is a straight-up truckin’ song, “Long White Line.” The other is a gorgeous, unrecognizable transformation of an ’80s new wave hit—I’d rather not tell you what it is, so that it sneaks up on you when you hear it. It could easily be novelty; it is not. Much like Simpson himself: he’s not just the “acid country” guy, he’s not the retro revivalist. He’s being true to himself, and dragging country music along with him. (Jan. 1)

Download: “Turtles All the Way Down,” “The Promise,” “It Ain’t All Flowers”

All too keen on 2013

It's the time of the year: an avalanche of hyperbole and grasping at adjectives. I review approximately 200 albums a year; these 40 make it all worthwhile, and then some. 

1. AroarA - In the Pines (Club Roll). I thought I had Andrew Whiteman figured out by now, having followed his musical career for the past 20 years. Nope. Once he disbanded Apostle of Hustle and Broken Social Scene went on hiatus, he married Ariel Engle, who appears to have turned his world on its head. Together, they dove into the poetry of Alice Notley; together, they set it to music; together they assembled and manipulated samples of old folk music, adding their own guitars and Engle’s commanding vocals. “I was born to be your poet,” she sings; it’s a line of Notley’s—as is everything here—but it could well be either partner singing to the other, giving birth to something so much more compelling and creative than the assembled parts. In the Pines is a 21st-century dialogue with the musical past, with lyrics drawn from a woman suffering from hepatitis C, a disease that spreads through infected blood. From that mortal situation, Whiteman and Engle transfuse Notley’s words into majestic, magical, melodic sonic creations that astound at every turn. Nothing else I heard in 2013 matched this level of invention, this element of surprise, this much inspiration. (Note: the complete album, now finally out on vinyl, was released in two digital installments: an five-song EP in the spring and nine more songs in August; iTunes still sells them both individually. Start with the EP.)

2. Jim Guthrie - Takes Time (Static Clang). After a 10-year retreat from making solo albums (spent largely writing soundtracks and jingles), Guthrie certainly does take his time. It’s worth it. That gap informs everything here: the attention to minute detail, the lyrical fixation on the passing of time, the musical maturity, the lush orchestration. It’s the difference a decade makes. Guthrie started out making small symphonies in his Guelph basement with whatever he could find; now 40, he’s made a perfect time-capsule album of classic pop music, autumnal in tone. Is it, as he asks, “The Sound of Wanting More”? He offers only a typically cryptic answer: “The Rest is Yet to Come.”

3. Veda Hille - Peter Panties (independent). Most people won’t get past the elevator pitch for this project: arty singer and pianist cowrites a musical version of Peter Pan with a playwright with Down syndrome, and performs it with a bunch of 15-year-old boys. Still with us? Good, because Peter Panties is not just the ultra-rare rock opera that clicks (probably the best since Hedwig), it’s 18 songs of less than three minutes each that have better melodies than Broadway has heard in at least the last 20 years. Despite the odd concept and appropriated pop culture references, Peter Panties is not just silly and fun, it has actual fist-pumping anthems and tender ballads. In a career as productive and varied as Veda Hille’s, it seems strange to elevate something called Peter Panties to the top of her discography. Until you hear it.

4. Pusha T - My Name is My Name (Universal). Like The Wire as a hip-hop musical, hardcore and harrowing in ways that Jay Z never was and never will be, Pusha T, formerly of The Clipse, details life in the crack game with electrifying delivery that’s every bit exciting as hearing top-notch producers (Kanye West, The-Dream, Pharrell Williams) delivering their best beats. The subject matter may be one-dimensional, but nothing else here is remotely so, least of all Pusha T’s rhymes and flow.

5. Lee Harvey Osmond - The Folk Sinner (Latent). Dim lights, minor keys, lonely harmonicas, rockabilly rhythms, lurching waltzes ghostly pedal steel guitars, luminescent vibraphones. It’s all tied together by the finest collection of roots rockers in Ontario’s Golden Horseshoe, led by Blackie and the Rodeo Kings’ Tom Wilson and the Cowboy Junkies’ Michael Timmins—the only one missing seems to be Daniel Lanois, though his spiritual presence is felt. As for Timmins, this might be the most satisfying album he’s been involved with since the Junkies’ Trinity Session—so when sister Margo shows up to duet on the closing track, “Deep Water,” it ties together the last 25 years of a roots music community dedicated strolling off the beaten path. (This review originally written for Exclaim's year-end roots list, where the album ranked #10.)

6. Hilotrons - At Least There's Commotion (Kelp). In fact, there was no commotion at all for this record—sadly, as bandleader Mike Dubue was ill before and after the release. Not that you’d know it from hearing his spirited vocals on this hectic, eclectic new wave rock record, driven by keyboards of all kinds; powerhouse drummer Philip Shaw Bova is the only other performer. Both production and performance are impeccable, and when Dubue squeals “I know he’s got the hooks!” on the opening track, he’s just warning you that an embarrassment of sonic and melodic riches is about to follow.

7. Daft Punk - Random Access Memories (Columbia). In the late ’70s, prog rock and disco were contemporaries, yet mortal enemies—until Daft Punk brought them together. Absolutely no one makes million-dollar-budget music like this anymore, tailor-made for weddings and bar mitzvahs and yet focused entirely on the most technically advanced studio session players still around (some of them played on Thriller, for starters). Just as Martin Scorsese’s Hugo was a cinephilic lecture couched inside a heartwarming children’s adventure, Random Access Memories is a musical history lesson delivered through drop-dead-awesome disco—and surprisingly beautiful sad-robot ballads.

8. Rokia Traoré - Beautiful Africa (Nonesuch). Imagine if Nina Simone had operatic training and grew up in West Africa, and then made a record with PJ Harvey’s guitar player—or just listen to Rokia Traoré’s fifth album instead. Mali is one of the most musically rich regions of the planet, yet precious few of her neighbours have made a record as fantastic as this one. She had every reason to despair for her homeland in the past two years, but she emerges resilient and hopeful. My interview with her is here.

9. Headstones - Love and Fury (FrostByte). Who crawls out of the grave 10 years after their demise sounding more alive than ever? The Headstones came roaring back with one of the most invigorating, near-perfect, raging rock’n’roll records to come out of this country in a long time. This is a group you do not want to mess with; singer Hugh Dillon sounds like he eats young punks for dinner. More importantly, the Headstones are writing triumphant songs that shame not only their peers and descendants, but their own back catalogue. Original review here. Original review here.

10. Man Man - On Oni Pond (Anti). Since their inception, Philadelphia’s Man Man have been a chaotic carnival, with choruses of wailing children, brash brass, furious percussion, and a gravel-voiced lead singer who parades around in furs and leaps off his piano. That hasn’t changed. But now that they’re approaching their first decade together, Man Man has corralled the cacophony into a fine, funky songcraft, the howls of pain replaced with odes to joy—though still delivered with an absurdist angle.

11. Two Hours Traffic - Foolish Blood (Bumstead). Yes, pure pop bands with “ooo-oohs” in their choruses are a dime a dozen, but precious few pull it off as the soon-to-be late, great Two Hours Traffic do here on their final album. Producer Darryl Neudorf takes Spoon’s minimalist arrangements and transfers them to widescreen California vistas, all framing 11 pop songs with at least three great hooks each. No gridlock here.

12. Darkside - Psychic (Matador). There was a highly anticipated Boards of Canada album released this year, but when it comes to electronic albums you could imagine playing around the campfire, Darkside had them beat by a country mile. A digital clicks-and-cuts approach meshes seamlessly with live drums and analog synths, while surprising electric guitar licks sound like Mark Knopfler wandered into an Orb session. True to their name, Darkside is all shadows and smoke and sensuality.

13. Basia Bulat - Tall Tall Shadow (Secret City). This is when that cute, friendly but underwhelming girl you first saw play years ago suddenly makes a record that stops you in your tracks and realize that her songwriting has caught up to her angelic voice, and the production behind her makes her sound like the love child of Aretha Franklin and Joni Mitchell.

14. Neko Case - The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You (Anti). As a poet, Neko Case all show and no tell; you’re welcome to read whatever you want into these songs (she gave some unusually personal interviews this year), but they are wide templates rich with metaphor and imagery. Likewise, her approach to instrumentation, arrangement, production and songcraft—and it’s Case, grossly underrated as a producer, who is calling all those shots—creates vivid worlds within each song, be it the rousing brass in “Ragtime,” the a cappella tone poem of “Nearly Midnight, Honolulu,” the New Pornographic romp of “Man,” the sparse, empathetic reading of Nico’s “Alone,” or the aching melancholy, love and regret that drive “Calling Cards” and “City Swans.” Neko Case is a fighter and a lover, and she’s on your side. My Q&A with her for Maclean's is here. (This review originally written for Exclaim's year-end roots list, where it ranked #3, behind Daniel Romano and the Sadies.)

15. Willis Earl Beal - Nobody Knows (XL). This wandering, hard-luck troubadour used to think he was an outsider artist, or a naïf who stumbles upon musical skill—which of course is ridiculous, because, by definition, self-awareness negates the concept of outsider artist. But Beal does exist outside of any conventional norm; his songs are modern blues sung a cappella, with most instrumentation an ambient afterthought—and yet on this, his first proper studio record, he colours in his sketch drawings every so subtly. When he fires up an actual soul band and gets Cat Power to sing backing vocals on "Coming Through," it’s almost jarring; Beal, a gifted gospel-infused vocalist, can obviously go pro if he wants to. And yet he prefers howling on the margins, conjuring unique music out of step with every corner of conformist culture.

16. Mavis Staples - One True Vine (Anti). On her second album with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy producing, the gospel great strips things back to little more than guitar, drums and backing vocals, with commissioned songs by Nick Lowe, Tweedy and the band Low, as well as a killer Funkadelic cover and a reworking of the Staple Singers’ "I Like the Things About Me." For Sunday mornings and so much more.

17. Kae Sun - Afriyie (independent). Modern R&B is stuck between AutoTuned megastars, obtuse game-changers like Frank Ocean, the noirish goth strains of The Weeknd, and retro revivalists like Sharon Jones and Charles Bradley. Which is where this virtually unknown Ghanaian-Canadian slides up the middle ala Miguel, with old-school vocal chops, the charm of John Legend, and a full embrace of modern production. On top of that, he’s got hooks to spare; “Blackstar Rising” sounds like a 21st-century Bill Withers. I almost missed this record myself; don’t make the same mistake.

18. Jim James - Regions of Light and Sound of God (ATO). In My Morning Jacket, James fronts one of the best live bands in North America. But all by his lonesome—surrounded mostly by spooky synths—he makes far better records. Sometimes he layers on eerie psychedelic textures; sometimes he just has a guitar and heaps of otherworldly reverb on his voice. Whatever it is he’s up to here, it’s pure magic.

19. Majical Cloudz - Impersonator (Arbutus). Devon Welsh sounds like an emo kid alone in his bedroom pleading for an emotional connection on message boards. His mournful, “zero-BPM” synths weep in the background while Welsh comes off like a baritone cantor contemplating mortality and the meaning of life. That may seem about as appealing as his horrible moniker, but it works. The man is intense, earnest and ultimately empathetic—and that’s just his delivery, because the lyrics don’t quite yet reach the power of the performance. Welsh is easily the most intriguing debut artist of the year, and I’ll bet that next time out he’ll no longer sound like the loneliest man in the universe.

20. Colin Stetson - New History of Warfare Vol. 3: To See More Light (Constellation). The record on this list you’re least likely to play during social occasions (it’s a room-clearer), the third record by this Montreal saxophonist is equally beautiful and punishing, an emotional roller coaster as well as an impressive physical feat (Stetson recorded these complex, layered songs entirely live with just one saxophone). To See More Light must be experienced as an album, taking one motif and extrapolating on it, stretching and pulling it any way he can, slowly encircling the listener and inducing hypnotic delirium.

Runners-up, listed alphabetically:

Arcade Fire - Reflektor (Sonovox). A flawed yet fascinating album that finds the Montreal band pushing themselves on the dance floor—sometimes awkwardly, sometimes just as every great rock band’s disco conversion should be. The OMGs far outweigh the WTFs. My Q&A with Win Butler is here; my Q&A with Tim Kingsbury and Richard Reed Parry is here; my Maclean's article is here.

Atoms for Peace - Amok (XL). Radiohead’s Thom Yorke and Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Flea in the same band? Yes, please. Amok crackles and pops and delights in sonic adventure while always putting the rhythm first. It even makes Yorke sound less mopey: miracles do happen.

Austra - Olympia (Paper Bag). Goth girl goes disco—that’s the shorthand for Austra’s second album, but it’s only part of the story. By letting her backing singers (a.k.a. Tasseomancy) into the songwriting process, and by relying more on her live band than preprogrammed tracks, former opera singer Katie Stelmanis finds her groove in more ways than one. My Maclean's article is here.

Devendra Banhart - Mala (Nonesuch). The undeniably talented Banhart usually gets too silly and distracted for his own good. Which is why it’s worth celebrating those rare moments when his love of flamenco, German techno, American folk music, Brazilian bossa nova and outsider art all manage to make sense over the course of an album.

 

Blue Hawaii - Untogether (Arbutus). In Braids, Raphaelle Standell-Preston’s main group, she fronts one of this country’s most acclaimed weirdo art bands, but this techno-tinged side project serves her sense of abstraction far better, underneath icy grooves and deep bass.

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Push the Sky Away (Bad Seed Ltd.). Outside of 1997’s The Boatman’s Call, this is the sparsest Nick Cave has ever sounded with his Bad Seeds, who manage to inject mystery and menace even when they’re playing as few notes as possible. Cave, usually a meticulous lyricist, allows himself to free-associate on occasionally absurd tangents, and yet he’s even more captivating than usual, making this one of the few essential records of his storied career.

Dirty Beaches – Drifters / Love is the Devil (Zoo). I’m not sure what’s going on here, but it sure sounds evil. Montreal’s Alex Zhang Hungtai lives in the shadow of Suicide, the droning, confrontational synth-punk duo from New York City’s ’70s punk scene, music that once sounded like a dystopian future, which Hungtai now unearths like an ancient artifact in a dislocated digital age where the tangible is ever elusive. This double album is divided into eight songs of ominous, propulsive rock music twice removed (Drifters) and eight songs of what sounds like a soundtrack to an urban horror movie discovered on a decaying VHS tape (Love is the Devil). It’s as confounding as it is compelling; ultimately, it’s nothing short of beautiful.

Haim - Days Are Gone (Sony). If Daft Punk seemed like an anomaly, this was even more so: three sisters who sing and play together like session players three times their age, and writing the best Fleetwood Mac songs since Tango in the Night. (Side note: Is this cover photo by the same guy who shot Leonard Cohen's Old Ideas, or is that just a weird L.A. coincidence?)

Heliocentrics - 13 Degrees of Reality (Now Again). Psychedelic space jazz with an undercurrent of menace, driven by drummer Malcolm Catto and guitarist Ade Owusu, who extrapolate on Miles Davis, Jimi Hendrix, Ethiopian jazz, Colombian rhythms, 21st-century classical, underground hip-hop and anything else they can hoover up and transform into strange new waveforms.

Jimmy Hunt – Maladie d’amour (Grosse Boite). Never mind “Space Oddity”—this planetarium pop record sounds like it should be the soundtrack to Chris Hadfield’s journeys. This francophone Quebecois sounds like the only Beatles song he knows is “Across the Universe” and thinks Pink Floyd quit before making Dark Side of the Moon. Or maybe he just thought he could make a better record than Beck’s Sea Change—because he did.

Jenny Hval - Innocence is Kinky (Rune Grammofon). Amidst a squall of feedback, white noise and intermittent percussion, this Norwegian novelist and performance artist intones, “I have a mouth and I want to sing like a face that is slit open / I want to sing like a continuous echo of splitting hymens.” She can do incredible things with her elastic voice, bending her pitch conversationally, turning a frayed screech into a melody, or holding a sustained, quiet note to uncomfortable lengths, at once vulnerable and determined. Producer John Parish darts and stabs around her melodies with jagged guitar and evocative soundscapes; he’s the perfect sounding board, illuminating her often opaque lyrical and musical ideas, which go to the limit of avant-garde songcraft without falling right off the edge.

The Julie Ruin - s/t (TJR). It’s been almost a decade since we heard the full power of Kathleen Hanna’s voice, last heard fronting the feminist electro queens Le Tigre. Knowing that she spent many of those years battling disease, it’s invigorating to hear her roaring back in front of a new band that marries her love of pure pop and her raw punk roots. Still fiery, she’s also deeply in love and grappling with maintaining one’s activist spirit on the other side of 40. Both literally and metaphorically, her voice hasn’t diminished one bit.

Jordan Klassen – Repentance (Nevado). Yes, it’s another sensitive soul playing a lilting banjo on hushed songs and occasionally singing wordless choruses in falsetto. It doesn’t help that he describes his own music as “fairy folk.” Except that this Vancouver songwriter has songs that silence any doubts, and instantly transport the listener away from urban hustle on a Rocky Mountain high.

Kobo Town - Jumbie in the Jukebox (Cumbancha). Reggae and ska and soca and Cuban music have been constantly evolving over the last 50 years; Kobo Town thinks it’s calypso’s time to catch up. Jumbie in the Jukebox is more than just a genre overhaul; songwriter Drew Gonsalves would stand tall regardless of the arrangements around him.

  

Low - The Invisible Way (Sub Pop). After experimenting (arguably poorly) with volume and electronics, Low knows what they do best: ultra-minimal guitar-drum arrangements with Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker’s harmonies front and centre—even better when Sparhawk hits the stratosphere above Parker. Producer Jeff Tweedy takes the same approach here he did with Mavis Staples this year: nothing extraneous, all the focus on great songs and spellbinding vocals.

Omar Souleyman – Wenu Wenu (Ribbon). Good news out of Syria? Not exactly, as the country’s best-known musical export (which is not saying much) relocated to Turkey to avoid the civil war tearing apart his home. But Souleyman did team up with British producer Four Tet to make his first official Western release (after literally hundreds of cassettes, many recorded live at weddings), and the end result captures the delirium and joy of dabke, a genre with a relentless pulse and keyboard melodies that constantly twist and turn.

The Strumbellas – We Still Move on Dance Floors (Six Shooter). Seeing how it’s not that unusual to see stripped-down folkie bands playing stadiums these days, it’s a matter of time before this Toronto band—with these nine, rousing classics sung with perfect four-part harmony and electric energy—is headlining every summer festival in 2014.

Justin Timberlake - The 20/20 Experience Vol. 1 (Sony). Soul, swagger, seduction—and pure stupidity, if you’re foolish enough to listen to his lyrics. That aside (as well as the horrid second installment, also released in 2013), this wasn’t just the return of Timberlake—it was a long-overdue comeback for producer Timbaland, who hasn’t sounded this fresh and surprising in years.

Vampire Weekend - Modern Vampires of the City (XL). If the first album was fun and the second album a bit off, this is where Vampire Weekend found their feet and made a truly inspired album with pop anthems, arty detours and clever production.

Rachel Zeffira - The Deserters (Paper Bag). A classical music student from the Kootenays in B.C. finds herself in Italian towns and British churches writing and recording her debut album, and the result is suitably haunting, restless and enchanting. Fans of This Mortal Coil, Saint Etienne and Julee Cruise will recognize these surroundings; so will any Europhile who should be sure to pack this album for that train ride through the Alps.