Top 10 of 2020

These records may or may not be "the best," art is not sports, I no longer have to review 250 new records a year (though I listen to at least that much), and so much of my listening this year was coloured by the state of the world. Make of all that what you will. This glorious music made 2020 somewhat bearable for me, hopefully for you as well: music of joy, pain, therapy, escape and beauty. Dancing, not so much. 

If this is all TL;DR, here's a 38-song playlist of single tracks from my top 40 albums (two are Bandcamp exclusives)


1 Perfume Genius – Set My Heart on Fire Immediately (Matador). "Half of my whole life is gone" is the opening line here. It's not a lament. Not a regret. Mid-life crisis? No. Instead, it's a time of forgiveness—of the self, more than anything—and for moving toward a time when "shadows soften toward some tender light." Not that Perfume Genius's Mike Hadreas is a shiny, happy person peddling you some self-healing. This album, like all his work, mines a lot of pain, mixed with a romanticism and eroticism that's all the more powerful when it's clear how important—and difficult—it is for a lot of people to transcend mountains of negativity to achieve those idealized states. 

All of that is evident only if you listen to his lyrics—which you obviously should—but his skill as a songwriter is that it also doesn't really matter. If you listen to the incredibly sensual "Jason" and all you hear is a seductive tale, that's fine; read closer and only then will you realize it's about a one-night stand with a straight man who leaves his boots on, and sneaking a $20 bill out of his wallet after he tells you to leave. Or how a seemingly simple pop song about longing with the chorus "It's been such a long, long time without you" is actually about body dysmorphia. Does it matter? They're both perfect pop songs with or without the lyrics. The melody, the vocal performance, the production, the players all offer plenty to distract you, if distraction is what you're after. And sometimes a hot and horny song of pent-up sexual release like "Nothing At All" is simply exactly that.  

There are pop records I loved this year, experimental records I loved, sad music I loved, joyous music I loved. This is my No. 1 pick because it's all of those things. There are songs here that can easily appeal to anyone who loves Roy Orbison as much as Hadreas does. And there are songs here for people who love the "difficult" deep cuts on Peter Gabriel and Bjork albums. There's one song here, "Leave," that features what sounds like a pack of coyotes duetting with a gorgeous string arrangement. Several songs are incredibly sparse and haunting. There are five rousing anthems that should be played as loud as possible, at least one of which could be capable of creating the cinematic synergy that happened when his 2017 song "Slip Away" was used in Booksmart, in a scene that had me weeping with joy in the theatre last year.

Producer Blake Mills (Alabama Shakes, Fiona Apple, John Legend), who also helmed 2017's No Shape, deserves a lot of credit for how this record sounds, and his bass playing on "Jason" and "Just a Touch" manages to outshine even studio vet Pino Palladino, who plays on most of the rest of the album. Speaking of studio vets, heavyweight drummers Jim Keltner and Matt Chamberlain are also all over this, tasteful as ever. But it's what Mills does with Hadreas's longtime partner Alan Wyffels with the otherworldly synth textures here that provide each song with its own unique world to frame Hadreas's gorgeous melodies. 

Hadreas breaks down each song for this feature in Pitchfork, and for these liner notes on Apple Music.

2 Shabaka and the Ancestors – We Are Sent Here By History (Impulse). Shabaka Hutchings has become a jazz crossover sensation through his work in Sons of Kemet and the Comet is Coming, both of which are thrilling, visceral and ecstatic; it's not hard to understand their appeal to non-jazz audiences. This more traditional group, with South African musicians, is more laid back. Though Hutchings's melodic style is unmistakable, this music is driven largely by upright bassist Ariel Zamonsky's Mingus-y lines, while drummer Tumi Mogorosi and percussionist Gontse Makhene lay down some Afro-Caribbean grooves underneath him. The poet Siyabonga Mthembu's gospel-esque Zulu vocals bring a lot to the table, but are never the focal point. He does, however, provide the the context for an album inspired by Extinction Rebellion and other crisis points: the songs were composed based on his titles, which include "They Who Must Die," "Run, the Darkness Will Pass," and "Beasts Too Spoke of Suffering." "We are here because history called," he sings. Hutchings says the music is "a reflection from the ruins ... Music is the seed from which new worlds must grow." In a year when it became more important than ever to reimagine a "new normal," this was a spiritual salve. 

Great New York Times profile here, and one in the Guardian here. 

3 Agnes Obel – Myopia (Deutsche Grammophon). Piano, cello, voice, and absolutely haunting minor-key melodies steeped in melancholy: perfect for lonely, uncertain times. Every song is a miniature sonic film, and titles like "Broken Sleep," "Island of Doom" and "Won't You Call Me" reinforce the mood. What makes it even better, however, is this Berlin-based-Belgian's approach to production: all the instruments are often pitched higher or lower, including her voice—like Fever Ray, she likes to harmonize with a "male" version of herself in a lower register. If that wasn't otherworldly enough, the drum sounds and overall use of reverb make this seem like it was made at the bottom of a frozen lake in the German Alps. Which seems like a nice enough spot to get myopic and shelter in place. I listened to this daily, almost obsessively, at the beginning of the lockdown. It's lost none of its magic and mystery since. The one concert ticket I had pinned to my wall when the pandemic hit was to see her open for—wait for it—Dead Can Dance. 

4 Junia T – Studio Monk (Pirates Blend)

Wrote about this here and here.

This album should be to the next generation of Toronto what Broken Social Scene’s You Forgot It In People was to indie rock in the early 2000s. Junia T steps to the forefront after being Jessie Reyez’s tour DJ for the last few years to craft this masterful collection of grooves built from the bottom up with live musicians and invite an array of mostly Toronto talent to shine in his stead. It functions not so much as a solo record but as a mixtape with all-stars like Reyez, Sean Leon, and River Tiber, but relatively unknown singers Storry and Faiza, as well as highly underrated Toronto vet Adam Bomb. Sometimes this much talent on one record means a lot of compromise and mush, but every single artist here brings their A-game. (Well, maybe not Nate Husser.) Jessie Reyez is the only big name here, but every guest here shows off big personalities while never overshadowing the brilliance of Junia T’s arrangements, which draw from vintage funk, neosoul, reggae, triphop, Brazilian beats and jazz. The beats are killer; the bass lines even better. The singers are all pitch perfect. Slakah the Beatchild is behind the boards, ensuring a rich, warm, vintage sound. This album was two years in the making, and it shows: there is a deep attention to detail and mood on every track. 

An in-depth short doc about the artist:

5 Melt Yourself Down – 100% Yes (Universal). One of my all-time favourite jams is Pigbag's "Papa's Got a Brand New Pigbag" (a.k.a. the theme from CITY-TV's The New Music), and so to discover a current London band mining a similar vibe is nothing short of glorious. But nothing else sounds like this, and if it does I need to find it: Killer grooves, heavy percussion (timbales, congas, darbuka), a raunchy two-saxophone attack (bari and tenor) run through distortion, and a compelling singer howling in Mauritian, English and made-up languages. There's no doubt this is a party band, but so were the Specials and Mano Negra and Asian Dub Foundation, and, like those bands, the lyrics here are rich with reactions to racism and recent British history (i.e. the indifference to the Grenfell highrise tragedy). There's been an explosion of creativity in British jazz lately, and it should be noted that this band—which is not jazz—dates back to 2014, after which two founding members left to form Sons of Kemet, among other projects (including Shabaka and the Ancestors; see above). Between that association and a jump to a major label, this band should be much better known than they are. This is perhaps the one 2020 record I regret most not being able to see live (this is kind of fun but doesn't really cut it); that said, it's a hot, sweaty mess even just coming out the headphones.

6 Pantayo – s/t (Telephone Explosion)

Wrote about this here and here.

It’s safe to say that few people, if anyone, in North America has heard a band like this, which combines traditional Filipino percussion (kulintang) with modern R&B and pop. Producer Alaska B (Yamantaka//Sonic Titan) ensures everything sounds rich, thick and totally pro: deep Solange-ish grooves over which the Moondog-ish metallophones and other kulintang percussion sparkle with life. If this were just a novel and evocative instrumental record, it would already succeed, but these women are also great singers: check out the sultry soul ballad “Desire,” which absolutely could and should be a pop hit. The brooding pulse of “V V V” is a 2020 anthem (“They lie / they will never tell the truth”). “Heto Na” and “Taranta” have some serious ESG vibes, while obviously sounding nothing like them. I was thrilled when they made the Polaris shortlist, because this deserves to be heard around the world.

  

7 Kathleen Edwards – Total Freedom (Dualtone). Edwards is a master of economy: lean but lovely arrangements, great players, and 10 songs so good that her long hiatus has been entirely justified. But bring hankies—especially if you're forty-ish or over and living with a bunch of regret. For those rare moments when you're not, "Glenfern" might just be the greatest song ever written with affection for an ex, remembering the good times with gratitude and moving past the hurt. (After years of armchair trainspotters wondering who Edwards's songs were about, that one is quite explicitly about ex-husband Colin Cripps.) And though I'm not well versed on the canon of canine songs, I'd hazard a guess that "Who Rescued Who" is also near the top of that niche. As always, there's an ace band behind her: longtime friends and collaborators Jim Bryson (keys, guitar), guitarist Gord Tough (also heard on Sarah Harmer's record), drummer Peter Von Althen and bassist Darcy Yates. Extra points for the driving kosmische Canadiana of "Hard on Everyone." I have to admit that I took this record for granted: on many levels, it sounds like Another Kathleen Edwards Album—an extension of 2012's fantastic Voyageur and entirely predictable, for better or worse. But as the weight of the songs began to sink in, it was not only a reminder of what a great writer she is, but that she keeps getting better: the character portraits, the tiny lyrical details, the turns of phrase, the earworms. Take your time, Ms. Edwards. You've more than earned it. 

  

8 Witch Prophet – DNA Activation (independent)

Wrote about this here and here.

“Bow down to queen,” demands Ayo Leilani on her second album as Witch Prophet. As we should: DNA Activation is a completely captivating, entrancing journey through trippy soul with an Eritrean Erykah Badu bent. Jazzy vibes, deep grooves and synesthesiac textures abound, creating a sonic splendour in which it’s easy to get lost. Leilani’s vocals aren’t a focus as much as they are a centring guide, a soothing presence asking, “Where do we go from here, when the whole world is falling?” Karen Ng’s saxophone plays a key role on three of the 10 tracks, indebted to Ethio jazz. “Makda” comes off like a trippier Dan the Automator. Everything about DNA Activation is a huge step up from her promising debut; its only real drawback is that it’s incredibly brief: 10 songs in 24 minutes. This is hypnotic, healing music for humid days, during days when these lyrics strike deep: “Where do we go from here / When the whole world is falling / Through darkness / And we cannot see the light.” The woman known as Witch Prophet brings that light.  

9 Frazey Ford – U Kin B the Sun (Arts and Crafts)

Wrote about it here and here.

Words will always fail to describe Frazey Ford’s voice, probably because she fails to enunciate most of her words in the first place. Such is the magic and mystery that this soulful singer brings to everything she does, whether it was the folk revivalism of the Be Good Tanyas 20 years ago (!) or the soul music she immerses herself in here. This is not exactly retro R&B, but it is a solid live band with a Hammond organ (or imitation) hovering over the bass-heavy grooves and gospel-tinged backing vocals. She’s a devoted D’Angelo fan, and her last record used the same band Cat Power did on The Greatest; Ford brings her own hippie B.C. vibe to the genre. She’s not in this game to win; she can take or leave the music business, as she’s proved over the years while moving at her own pace. The music she makes is for healing, for uplift, for the spirit. Which is all well and good and inspiring, but the songs she brings to the table this time, and the players she gathered to perform it, that elevate this far beyond mere good intentions. The Aretha Franklin of the Kootenays?

10 U.S. Girls – Heavy Light (4AD / Royal Mountain)

Wrote about this here and here.

This was recorded by humans in a room together at the same time. Crazy, right? Meg Remy and her circle are politically progressive but have decidedly old-school beliefs when it comes to musical chops: you should be able to play, you should be able to play well with other people, and no amount of multitracking can substitute for the sound of amazing singers surrounding a microphone in real time. 

Heavy Light aims to be a What’s Going On of this generation: lyrics that address personal and systemic pain, enveloped in melodies, grooves and arrangements that seek to soothe rather than confront. “You gotta have boots, if you wanna lift those bootstraps,” goes the opening track, addressing historic economic inequality in the guise of a sweet soul song. “Overtime” is a first-person song about a widow discovering that her overworked husband drank their savings away. “Born to Lose” could be a Sarah Kendzior or Barbara Ehrenreich book about American decline in a torch-y song with a choral chorus, set to ’50s lounge exotica. A Latin excursion on “And Yet It Moves / Y Se Mueve” works surprisingly well—or, not so surprising at all, considering the calibre of musicians involved. The entire record is lush and expansive, and yet always in subtle ways; this is not a record that wants to show off, it wants to draw you in.

Remy has a lot of top-shelf help here: Basia Bulat, Arcade Fire’s Tim Kingsbury, partner Slim Twig, the band Ice Cream, future superstar James Baley, the E Street Band’s Jake Clemons, the underrated Geordie Gordon and Michael Rault, engineer Howard Bilerman, and vocal arranger Kitty Uranowski. It’d be hard to make a bad record with those people in the room. But with Remy at the helm, the result is an instant classic.

Everything about this exudes empathy and community, which is exactly what we need right now.

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RECAP!

11-20:

11 Nihiloxica – Kawali
12 Lido Pimienta – Miss Colombia 

13 Marlaena Moore – Pay Attention, Be Amazed! 

14 The Dears – Lovers Rock
15 Wye Oak – Horizon EP
16 Deerhoof – Love Lore

17 Fiona Apple – Fetch the Bolt Cutters

18 Nels Cline – Share the Wealth 

19 Sault – (untitled) Rise

20 C. Diab – White Whale

Blurbs for those are here. 
Playlist for all top 20 albums is here. Shuffle it up: 

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21-40, in alphabetical order:

79ers Gang – Expect the Unexpected

Allie X – Cape God 

Julianna Barwick – Healing is a Miracle 

Bloto – Kwiatostan 

Budos Band – Long in the Tooth 

Caribou – Suddenly 

Jennifer Castle – Monarch Season 

Brandy Clark – Your Life is a Record 

Alabaster DePlume – To Cy & Lee: Instrumentals Vol. 1

Sarah Harmer – Are You Gone 

 

Blurbs for the above 10 are here

Blurbs for the below 10 are here 

Quin Kirchner – The Shadows and the Light
Mourning (a) BLKStar – The Cycle 

Owen Pallett – Island
Prince Nifty – We're Not in Kansas Anymore
Slow Leaves – Shelf Life 

Julian Taylor – The Ridge 

Throat Funeral – OU812212
Etuk Ubong – Africa Today
Wolf Parade – Thin Mind
Donovan Woods – Without People

 

Playlist for these 20 full albums is here. Shuffle it up: 

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10 more of interest: 

Destroyer – Have We Met 

DijahSB – 2020 The Album
Dana Gavanski – Yesterday Is Gone

Magnetic Fields – Quickies 

Jon McKiel – Bobby Joe Hope
Terrell Morris – Lavender 

Sneaks – Happy Birthday 

Charles Spearin and Josefin Rusteen – Thank God the Plague is Over
Tricky – Fall to Pieces
William Tyler – New Vanitas

Blurbs for those are here.

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Honourable mention, about which I can't possibly be objective:

Gord Downie – Away is Mine. Wrote about it for Maclean's here. 

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My favourite singles and non-album tracks by artists not in the top 40: Magnetic Fields, Anderson Paak, Terrell Morris, Regina Gently, Destroyer, Sufjan Stevens, Will Butler, Buddy & Julie Miller, Serena Ryder, The Weather Station, Guiding Light, Eric Bachmann, The Ropes, Karen O & Willie Nelson, Beverly Glenn-Copeland

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Reissue:
Beverly Glenn-Copeland – Transmissions
Runners-up:
Prince – Sign O the Times
Pylon – Box

Blurbs for those are here. 

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2019 albums I was late to in 2020:
Bon Enfant – s/t

Kaytranada – Bubba 

Little Scream – Speed Queen

Little Simz – Grey Area 

Lankum – The Livelong Day

Lightning Dust – Spectre 

Mdou Moctar – Ilana: The Creator

Junius Paul – Ism 

Wilco – Ode to Joy

Yola – Walk Through Fire

Blurbs for those are here.

Playlist for those is here:

Perfume Genius - No Shape

Perfume Genius – No Shape (Matador)

Mike Hadreas is the man who calls himself Perfume Genius, but that’s not even the most audacious thing about him. He writes with candour about disease, addiction, queer identity and other topics often avoided in pop songs. On his breakthrough record, 2014’s Too Bright, the single “Queen” contained the proudly defiant chorus: “No family is safe / when I sashay.”

This time, however, he’s not just writing about pain or revenge; he’s writing about finally reaching the other side of sobriety and domesticity and true love. (“Did you notice we sleep through the night? / Did you notice, babe, everything is all right? / You need me / Rest easy / I’m here / How weird.”)

Sound boring? Not in these hands. Not in the least.

First of all, no matter what he might choose to sing about, Hadreas’s voice will send shivers up any spine; the only white North American man he could remotely be compared to would be Roy Orbison, for that unique combination of strength, fragility, intensity and emotional depth that precious few can even begin to emulate. Hadreas has that. He’s a big fan of Mary Margaret O’Hara, whom he’s covered often live, and tracks here like “Every Night” share the majesty of her best ballads.

Everything about his fourth album is incredibly intense and rendered in explosions of auditory colour, in part thanks to producer Blake Mills and engineer Shawn Everett (both were behind Alabama Shakes’ Sound and Color). Perfume Genius can do glam cabaret or art-damaged R&B or stripped-down piano ballads, but there is an ever-present tension and slight discomfort beneath even the prettiest moments. He knows he can slay with just piano and voice—which is what we heard on his first two records—and he’s not interested in that anymore. Instead, the surrounding sonic world is just as, if not more, important than the songs at the core. The combination of cocksure confidence and avant-garde exploration also makes him perhaps the only person to ever reference both Bruce Springsteen and filmmaker Peter Greenaway in his bio—alongside Prince’s Black Album and Kate Bush’s The Dreaming, neither of which are unfair reference points. (May 11, 2017)

  

Stream: “Slip Away,” “Just Like Love,” “Every Night”

  

2014, super peachy keen

1. Owen Pallett – In Conflict (Secret City)

(Excerpted from Exclaim’s year-end list, where In Conflict placed #3). Every one of Pallett’s records is better than the last; it goes without saying that this is his best. It’s supposedly his most personal; the only way you would know that would be if he told you so. Because other than silly love songs, what more universal themes could there be than control and chaos, fertility and faith, memory and motion, drinking and depression, and the “terror of the infinite”? Pallett not only transforms philosophy and poetry into pop songs, he’s increasingly deft at balancing beautiful abstraction with a visceral punch, never more so than on the thunderous “Riverbed.” Bringing his old Les Mouches bandmates Matt Smith and Rob Gordon into the fold brings a live energy to half the tracks here; elsewhere, Pallett plunges into whirlpools of synth arpeggios just as often as he wields his trusty violin. (Read full blurb here)

Read my Maclean’s story about Pallett here. My original review and interview with him is here. My conversation with Nico Muhly about him is here. My conversation with our mutual friend Carl Wilson is here. My conversation with Pallett about Toronto now and then is here.

Also for your viewing pleasure: "Riverbed," "In Conflict," "Song for Five and Six," "On a Path"

2. Rosanne Cash – The River and the Thread (Blue Note)

I’ve heard and admired Rosanne Cash in the past, but from a distance. Nothing until now has made me want to dive in deep. Either The River and the Thread just happened to hit me at a certain time in my life (42, dad, formerly huge roots music fan who left the flock long ago and got hooked on the TV series Nashville last year), or Cash is getting even better with age and this is her masterpiece. It is, I’m told, her most personal, based on southern travels she took to her father’s home state, where she reconnected with generations of family stories that were largely alien to a songwriter raised in comfort in California and New York City. The storytelling and lyrics are unquestionably part of this album’s strengths, but the music overshadows all: killer melodies (co-written with husband John Leventhal), meticulously tasteful arrangements that still have plenty of soul, and, obviously, top-notch players and singers all around. The middle of the road rarely ever sounds this good. Yes, it’s too clean and pat for those who like their music a bit messy, but I can’t fault perfection. Post-script: After falling in love with this record, I highly recommend you read Cash’s memoir, Composed, from a couple of years back; it’s just as delicious and beautiful.

My review for The Grid (R.I.P.) is here. (And my obit for The Grid is here.)

Also for your viewing pleasure: "A Feather is Not a Bird" 

3. Perfume Genius – Too Bright (Matador)

(Excerpt from October review) Few musicians, if any, have used their art to suggest just how subversive queer culture was and is, how dangerous it is to embrace supposed “flamboyance,” the marginalization that exists outside of mainstream assimilation. Then along comes a guy who calls himself Perfume Genius, with a song called “Queen,” with a chorus that baits: “No family is safe / when I sashay.” This man does not want a peaceful life in the suburbs and settling for tolerance rather than acceptance. He’s a queer Stagger Lee, a homophobe’s worst nightmare, “casing the barracks / for an ass to break and harness / into the fold / marry.” And he does so with a voice that struts and seethes, staring down death and disease and contempt, backed by a sparse and gutsy rhythm section that crafts majesty out of a bare minimum of notes. (Read full review here.)

Also for your viewing pleasure: "Grid," "Fool"

4. Tanya Tagaq – Animism (Six Shooter)

There is nothing more I can say that Geoff Berner didn’t already say when he introduced her performance at the Polaris Music Prize gala. Here is an excerpt from that speech:

“Animism is a masterpiece because it transcends opposites. Dizzyingly complex and sophisticated in structure, it also completely hits you in your guts, in your soul. It takes traditions that are tens of thousands of years old, and makes truly innovative music … If you listen, you will careen through a panorama of the contradictions of existence. You can hear the living land, and the land under assault. You can hear children being born—and conceived. You can hear the torture of the innocent, and the glory of the tenacious, unstoppable force of life. If you listen you can actually hear the sound of a people defying genocide to rise, wounded but alive, strong, and ready to fight. There is no artist working today more emphatically herself, more incomparable than Tagaq. There is no musician in this world more powerful. Animism is the album that finally translates her unique power to the recording studio.” (Read Berner’s full text here.)

My original review is here. My piece for Maclean’s about her Polaris performance is here. My piece about what her Polaris win means—or doesn’t—is here.

Also for your viewing pleasure: her legendary Polaris performance

5. EMA – The Future’s Void (Matador)

Among the many things to love about The Future’s Void, it has the best song ever written with word “interweb” in it. Erika Anderson is 27 years old, which makes her skepticism of tech utopians much more interesting than a 70-year-old grandpa with an acoustic guitar. EMA doesn’t shy from technology in her synth-heavy music or her art—this album was accompanied by a visually provocative webzine—but she is suspicious of social media’s societal effects. She flips between harsh and industrial noises and pretty piano-based art rock, with a full-on ’90s grunge throwback single (“So Blonde”) and a breezy Fleetwood Mac-ish acoustic pop song (“When She Comes”) as red herrings; it’s telling that she can play to mass appeal if she wants, she chose to play the considerably more aggressive and jarring “Neuromancer” for her network TV debut on Letterman. Her howl is a glorious thing: not since PJ Harvey in her prime or the early days of Karen O has a female rock singer managed to snarl and scream while maintaining full control of her pitch. No tracks here sound particularly alike; this woman is not likely to run out of ideas in the near future.

My original review is here.

Also for your viewing pleasure: "3Jane" 

6. Mary J. Blige – The London Sessions (Universal)

Didn’t Blige once promise “No More Drama”? It’s always a life-and-death struggle in song for this icon, but there are few singers today who can convince you that they’ve hit bottom and crawled back up and still fear slipping back every day. The London Sessions is not a resurrection story, exactly: Blige’s career was doing just fine before this. It is, however, a relocation and a revelation, placing her largely in in stripped-down situations where her raw voice reveals her to be the true queen she is. But five of the 12 songs here are also club bangers, with shades of ’90s acid jazz, rave culture and modern EDM—except with a significant dose of serious soul usually lacking in those genres. And if the 12 months of headlines that comprised 2014 left you feeling punched in the stomach, then there’s no better remedy than “Whole Damn Year.”

My original review is here.

Also for your listening pleasure: "Therapy," "Pick Me Up" 

7. 36? – Where Do We Go From Here? (independent)

I wrote this for Exclaim, where they placed this album #10 on their Underrated Records of 2014 list: Calgary's Taylor Cochrane is at once a snotty punk, an ambient balladeer, a swaggering falsetto singer and a folkie delivering soaring anthems — and that's all on the first five songs. He's backed up from brilliant work by drummer Ryan Kusz and two multi-instrumentalists who make sense of Cochrane's mayhem. Most bands who try to do everything fail miserably; this one succeeds brilliantly, despite an ungooglable name.

My original review is here.

Listen to the whole thing here. 

8. Meridian Brothers – Salvadora Robot (Soundway)

My review from June: Your summer should sound like this: drunk, demented, delirious—and South American. This is what your World Cup party feels like after your underdog team beats all odds and you find yourself using a vuvuzela to imbibe multi-coloured sugary drinks you’ve never seen before, kissing people in the street and waking up in a strange part of town.

Elbis Alvarrez is the one-man operation from Bogota calling himself Meridian Brothers. On his third international release—not counting his side projects, including the mind-melting Los Piranas—he mashes together every equatorial genre of music (cumbia, calypso, reggae, samba) and escorts you through a funhouse of mirrors. Whether you dance or just sit there dazed is up to you.

Alvarrez has a simple methodology: set up a killer percussion track, employ minimal rhythm guitar, and then wig out on either processed lead guitar or fuzzy organs that sound like bees—all while cackling maniacally like a Latin American Jean-Pierre Massiera. Evil genius, or just plain genius? Maybe just the album of the summer. 

9. Bahamas – Is Afie (Universal)

Timing is everything. Some acts peak with their first album, only to become popular later. Some acts get major hype right out of the gate, and then no one is still paying attention when they start making far superior music 10 years into their career. Afie Jurvanen, on the other hand, gets better with every record, and was starting to sell out major theatres even before we got to hear this, his third, on which his soft sell is seductive and soothing. He’s a killer guitarist who directs his energy into crafting arrangements rather than soloing, and the female voices and strings with which he surrounds himself sweeten the pot even more.

My review from August.

10. Reigning Sound – Shattered (Merge)

This one is personal. I’m 43 years young. Lemme tell ya, kids, life gets rougher as you get older; some days it’s tough to see the love in the world and in each other. This summer, my ladyfriend and I drove down to Merge Records’ 25^th anniversary party week in Carrboro, N.C.; we fell in love there at the label’s 15^th anniversary. This album had just come out. Driving around the back roads of “North Cackalacky,” these garage rock geezers told me everything I wanted to hear: that it’s never too late to start again, to start working on new dreams, to rediscover the sparkle and shine in a lover’s eye. (It takes work, of course. See: “I’m Trying (To Be the Man You Need.”) Staying up late, talking all night, and dancing at rock’n’roll shows is not the exclusive domain of the young; indeed, it’s what keeps one young. Greg Cartwright, formerly of the Oblivians and the Deadly Snakes, has been around a few blocks, so he should know. The romantic lyrics aren’t the only sign of mellowing: the rich organ and string sections bring out his deep love of Memphis soul. Is Shattered one of the best records of 2014? Objectively, I’m not sure. But it meant the world to me.

  

My original review is here.

Also for your listening pleasure: "North Cackalacky Girl" 

11. Kevin Drew – Darlings (Arts and Crafts)

Kevin Drew deserves credit for many things: for co-founding Broken Social Scene and keeping it together, for being Toronto’s best ambassador pre-Drake, for at least two great BSS albums, and co-founding the Arts and Crafts label. On this, his second solo album, Drew truly emerges as a songwriter who doesn’t need a small army behind him; his production is also top-notch, warm and inviting, rich in atmosphere even in its loudest moments.

My original review is here. My Q&A with Drew and Andy Kim for Maclean’s is here.

Also for your listening pleasure: "You Gotta Feel It," "First In Line" 

12. Death Vessel – Island Intervals (Sub Pop)

I saw this band open for Shearwater in the spring, and they drove me nuts. My ladyfriend bought the record, however, and I slowly realized how lovely these songs actually are. They soundtracked many late evenings for the rest of the year. Lesson learned—yet again—about books, covers, and all that. My review from May:

Joel Thibodeau, a eunuch-voiced singer/songwriter from New England, sums up the ever-elusive and mysterious creative process better than most: “I don’t know what to do when the universe is in my room.” Clearly, however, he figured it out on this, his third album, for which he travelled to Iceland. Sure enough, Jonsi from Sigur Ros—a man with an almost identical range and timbre as Thibodeau—shows up. Arrangements of Thibodeau’s wonderfully wistful, melodic folk songs are adorned with marimbas, glockenspiels, fuzzed-out bass, pump organs, accordions and other instruments that seem to be always lying around Icelandic studios (see also: Bjork, Mum, Nico Muhly). On first impression, Thibodeau is too fey by half, with lines like, “I have an unbridled ideation / jumping over every moon with indignation.” He also enjoys employing words like “derring-do” and “looky-loo” with a straight face. He’s nothing if not earnest, and it wouldn’t be surprising to discover that he spent the six years since his last album in a seaside cabin with a library of pre-Victorian literature. (He didn’t—to my knowledge, anyway.) No matter your take on the lyrics, however, the melodies and arrangements are consistently and almost undeniably gorgeous.

13. Robert Plant – Lullaby and the Ceaseless Roar (Nonesuch)

No one would ever accuse Robert Plant of having a more successful career outside of Led Zeppelin than when he was in one of the biggest rock bands in the known universe. But judging by his last three records, that may yet be the case. The lessons he learned from singing with Alison Krauss have served him immensely: when a voice with such power chooses to focus with such restraint, it’s chilling and gorgeous—never more so than on “Stolen Kiss,” which must surely stand with his greatest vocal performances in his 45-year career. West African and Arabic influences abound here, as do those of his British Isles old and new: folk music and Bristol beats. With an ace band surrounding him dealing in textures and rhythms, this new Robert Plant we’ve come to know and love continues to surprise. My original review is here.

Also for your listening pleasure: "Little Maggie"

14. Adrian Raso and Fanfare Ciocarlia – The Devil’s Tale (Asphalt Tango)

My February review: This Guelph guitarist is noted for his wailing heavy metal leads in his rock band the Big Idea, where he has collaborated with Prince percussionist Sheila E. and members of the Stray Cats and Extreme. But he has a whole other acoustic side of him that revered Django Reinhardt’s style of gypsy jazz. It’s that pursuit that led to this collaboration with arguably the best Balkan brass band in the world, the 12-piece Fanfare Ciocarlia, who hail from a remote region of Romania. They specialize in a blistering, relentless tempos and virtuosic display. It’s hard to imagine them taking a back seat to anyone, never mind a Guelph guitar teacher. It’s just as hard to imagine Raso carving out a space for himself amidst Fanfare Ciocarlia, who have played together for decades. And yet: both camps meet here as complementary equals. Neither is here to upstage the other. Even though Raso’s fingerwork can match the brass players 16^th note for 16^th note, more importance is placed here on the actual songs and group dynamic. We know these people are all incredible; they don’t feel they have to prove it in every phrase. On “Spiritissimo,” Raso even makes room for another guitar hero, Rodrigo Sanchez, of Rodrigo y Gabriela, with whom he shares a similar love of metal shredding and flamenco.

15. Leonard Cohen – Popular Problems (Sony)

This octogenarian doesn’t need Lady Gaga’s starpower to help him deliver a bestselling album (though there are plenty of lady voices throughout, of course). His previous record, Old Ideas, is far superior, but Popular Problems shows that it wasn’t a fluke: this creative comeback is going to last as long as he wants it to. My original review is here. And let's not talk about that album cover.

16. St. Vincent – s/t (Universal)

  

Excerpted from my February review: Annie Clark, a.k.a. St. Vincent, has always been smart. Too smart, as if she’s approaching her music like an algebraic equation rather than creative expression. She’s always been talented. Too talented. She’s an operatic singer and a shredder on the guitar and loves to immerse herself in distorted electronics, and often she liked to flex all those muscles at once. Such is the folly of youth. She’s now 31. This is her fifth album, if you include her full-length collaboration with David Byrne, on which she began to leave her head and loosen up her body. (Byrne knows more than a few things about that divide. See: Stop Making Sense.) St. Vincent, the album, is a bold new statement of purpose. (Could you tell from her new look?) Clark has always had the confidence, the swagger, the chutzpah to go for the gold and hope her technical prowess would carry the day. This time, she’s also got guts and heart and grooves and songs to complete the package. Read the full review here.

17. The Roots – And Then You Shoot Your Cousin (Universal)

What the hell is going on here? Exactly. Questlove describes this as the Roots’ first opera; the most ambitious hip-hop band in history has dealt in concept albums before, with mixed success, but this definitely sounds theatrical, with classical and jazz and noise interludes, operatic vocals, crooning, soul claps, ’70s soundtracks and full orchestration. Ever since they took the Jimmy Fallon gig—which no doubt pays a few bills—the Roots’ albums have taken increasingly left-field turns, and this is the wildest of them all. Conversely, it also has some of their best pop hooks. Now that their day job has imbued them with unlimited mainstream visibility, it’s easy to take this band for granted. Don’t. They never would. My original review is here. 

18. Jack White – Lazaretto (Third Man)

It’s not enough that White already embodies everything I love in a great rock’n’roller (he’s one of the only interesting rock guitarists alive) or that his move to Nashville has brought welcome country elements into the mix, but with the title track to Lazaretto he even manages to borrow from hip-hop: specifically, the Beastie Boys circa Check Your Head. White’s talent is so sickening that there are times when Lazaretto feels a bit contrived, a bit too precious, a bit of an Americana museum piece. But that’s all in the mind of an academic, emotionally constipated listener; on a gut level, Lazaretto is fantastic, with White surrounding himself with ladies—lots of ladies—and gentlemen who bring out the best in him. Songs take detours and cross genres on a whim and White is the squealing ringmaster conducting it all. Spreading himself thin hasn’t hurt him a bit.

My June review is here.

Also for your viewing pleasure: "Would You Fight For My Love"

19. Aphex Twin – Syro (Warp)

Excerpt from my October review: I’ve never cared for Aphex Twin in the past. Yet I love this album. Has he changed—or have I? (We’re the same age.) It’s natural for an innovator to sound benign two decades after first turning tables (or turntables). It’s entirely possible that Aphex Twin’s influence—digitally deconstructed beats and tones that can sound randomly generated to the untrained ear—is so far-reaching that we now take it for granted. Squiggly bass, spasmodic rhythms, melodies as fleeting as jazz improvisations, played on alternately soft and distorted synthesizers—Aphex Twin weaves various discombobulated layers together to make something dense yet danceable, distant yet strangely seductive. Syro displays a maturity, a confidence in which James doesn’t feel like he has to prove anything to anyone or even himself. There’s no need to be oppositional for the sake of it; there’s no envelope to consciously push against. Left on his own, in that small Scottish village, the mad musical mind of Richard D. James doesn’t have to compete with the noise of the world. He’s already changed the face of music; now he can sit back and enjoy it. So can we—some of us, for the first time.

20. Timber Timbre – Hot Dreams (Arts and Crafts)

This band has been working a noir-ish, twangy shtick for years now, but it’s not getting tired—it’s getting even better. The grooves, the textures, the melodies, the overall balance between spooky seduction and downright discomfort is struck perfectly. It’s been a good year for them: a spot on the Polaris shortlist, an unforgettable debut headlining slot at Massey Hall (where the carefully chosen, celebratory exit music over the P.A. was Yello’s “Oh Yeah”), and an acclaimed side project (Last Ex). Sure, all the songs sound the same. Carolyn Mark once asked, “Is it a groove, or is it a rut?” This is most definitely a groove. My original review is here.

Also for your viewing pleasure: "Curtains"

20 more for good measure, in alphabetical order:

BadBadNotGood – III (Arts and Crafts)

Neneh Cherry – Blank Project (Smalltown Supersound)

Amelia Curran – They Promised You Mercy (Six Shooter)

Lynne Hanson – River of Tears (independent)

Hidden Cameras – Age (Outside)

Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings – Give the People What They Want (Daptone)

Daniel Lanois – Flesh and Machine (Red Floor/Anti)

Shane Abram Nelken – Your War is at Home (independent)

New Pornographers – Brill Bruisers (Last Gang)

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers – Hypnotic Eye (Warner)

Rodrigo y Gabriela – 9 Dead Alive (ATO)

Sagot – Valse 333 (Simone)

Shabazz Palaces – Lese Majesty (Sub Pop)

Slakah the Beatchild – Soul Movement Vol. 2 (BBE)

The Touré-Raichel Collective – The Paris Session (Cumbancha)

Tricky – Adrian Thaws (Arts and Crafts)

Tycho – Awake (Ghostly International)

Mirel Wagner – When the Cellar Children See the Light of Day (Sub Pop)

Scott Walker and Sunn 0))) – Soused (4AD)

Pharrell Williams – G I R L (Sony)

Reissues:

Native North America: Aboriginal Folk, Rock and Country 1966-1985 (Light in the Attic). Reviewed here. Q&A with curator Kevin Howes here.

Lavender Country – s/t (Paradise of Bachelors). Reviewed here. An appreciation of the fantastic liner notes here.  

Best of 2013—albums I totally slept on until this year:

Brandy Clark - 12 Stories (Slate Creek)

John Grant - Pale Green Ghosts (Nevado)

Nick Buzz - A Quiet Evening at Home (Six Shooter)