My personal Polaris 2020 long list part 4

Day four!

Recap: I cast my ballot for the Polaris Prize this week. Jurors only get five slots. Almost 200 albums were suggested by fellow jury members. A long list of 40 will be published next week. As always, there’s no shortage of excellent Canadian music. But this year there’s no one album—or even three—that I feel so obviously tower above the rest. Which makes the winnowing even more difficult.

I’m not going to tell you what’s on my ballot, but these are the 40 records I considered (10 in each post). Most of these have been discussed by the Polaris jury at some point, but this is a very personal list that no one should read into deeply. Many of these will likely not make the long list, and many not mentioned here most definitely will.

Final caveat: I’m a 48yo anglo white dad who lives in Toronto with all the obvious blind spots that entails, so prepare yourself with as many grains of salt you feel are required.

Part 4/4: 

Owen Pallett – Island: This long-delayed album came out two weeks before the Polaris deadline, and yet I wouldn’t at all be surprised to see it become one of the most-discussed albums this year. And not just because the first single (with its excellent accompanying video) contains this lyric: "Do not be scared / Surely some disaster will descend and equalize us / a crisis / Will unify the godless and the fearless and the righteous.” Though as lushly orchestrated as much of his work, these songs are centred around acoustic guitar, marking a new(ish) direction for Pallett: very little evidence of his violin-virtuoso past, few of the electronics that shaped 2014’s In Conflict, the orchestration never draws attention to itself, the music rich with subtleties and no concessions at all to pop audiences (usually Pallett would throw a bone or two). This sounds like Pallett’s most musically personal album; it also features the loveliest vocals he’s ever put to tape. For day-one fans, it’s as much a mature, one-man version of Les Mouches as it is a Final Fantasy record. Bandcamp link here.

Pantayo – s/t: Now here’s something you haven’t heard before: a group of Filipinas integrating traditional percussion (kulintang) with R&B and pop that lies somewhere between ESG, Massive Attack and Solange. Yes, the novelty is part of the appeal, and that will help this land on the long list and go possibly much further this Polaris season. But, like Tagaq or Jeremy Dutcher’s work, this is far from mere novelty: it’s an incredibly strong record: the grooves, the vocals, the songs, the sonic textures, the production by Alaska B (Yamantaka // Sonic Titan). Pantayo didn’t start out like this; when I saw them perform at a Long Winter event several years ago, it was definitely more on the traditional side. Now, “V V V (They Lie)” and “Desire” are total radio summer jams, uptempo and down, respectively. There’s even, it seems, some ’80s new wave in the mix here, but that could just the Scarborough boy in me being brought back to a time when I would have first heard traditional Filipino music at high school talent shows 30 years ago and now I’m weirdly conflating a bunch of my own memories in what is apparently a record review. Anyway, this is going to be the record that will make the list and have industry veterans wondering, “Where the hell did this come from?” Bandcamp link here.

Lido Pimienta – Miss Colombia: Is it okay to say now that I didn’t like Pimienta’s 2017 Polaris winner La Papessa? That was a milestone win for many reasons (first allophone winner, entirely indie release), but I still heard a nascent artist who had yet to fully bloom. The conversation around the win—and the way Pimienta dealt with an onslaught of hateful criticism—was more worthy than the album itself, in this random white guy’s opinion, FWIW (not much). The Toronto artist took a lot of time and care following it up, and now we can talk about the music again. Everything has stepped up, starting with Pimienta’s own vocals: they’re stronger, express more dynamics and inflection, and generally more emotionally resonant. That’s true of the electronics as well; she’s said part of her challenge here was to make the technology sound beautiful, and she succeeded. The brass arrangements throughout are also a nice touch. Prince Nifty, a.k.a. Owen Pallett collaborator Matt Smith, co-produces here (check out his lovely new solo release), and guests include Colombian palenque group Sexteto Tabala (the collab here will sound familiar to any fans of Caribbean-Colombian legend Toto La Momposina) and South American superstar Li Saumet of electro-cumbia-pop band Bomba Estereo. One could argue that Pimienta won the Polaris prematurely, but if she hadn’t, then this superior record would likely not be getting an international release; its ambition might not even have been possible. Bandcamp link here.

Slow Leaves – Shelf Life: It’s not like critics are stumbling over themselves in a hunt for the new Lightfoot in 2020. But hey, FWIW, Slow Leaves is likely the new Lightfoot, or at least the most worthy contender since Doug Paisley dropped the 2011 classic Constant Companion. Davidson sings with a gentle lilt and affecting tremolo, his breezy folk rock designed to be played on crackly vinyl or around a campfire. Davidson sounds like a middle-aged dad, which he is, and this is an ideal midlife rainy day record when accompanied by coffee and/or scotch. It’s not new or dark or sexy; it’s just life. Hard to make that sound exciting in a record review. But hey, if the likes of Leif Vollebekk can crack the shortlist, surely Slow Leaves can. Bandcamp link here.

Rae Spoon – Mental Health: This artist has had quite a rollercoaster two years: they continue to run the best truly indie label in Canada (Coax Records) and they released two of the best albums of their career (including this one). But shortly after cancelling a tour due to the pandemic the non-binary artist announced they were diagnosed with cancer before even turning 40. Rae Spoon’s music has always been about resilience, which means in 2020 an album like Mental Health strikes particularly potent chords. As a former folk country artist who now makes what could be called electro-tinged indie rock, Spoon is first and foremost a classic pop songwriter: their songs are full of earworms, no matter the arrangements underneath. Lyrically, this record taps into the anxiety age with precision, which makes it essential listening. Bandcamp link here.

Storry – CH III: The Come Up: The back story behind this record is fascinating, terrifying, tragic, and a whole other tale unto itself (read Nick Krewen’s profile here). But the short on Storry is that this debut album (don’t let the CH III title fool you) is about her past life as a sex worker after an opera career went astray. She turns her classically trained voice to gutsy and jazzy R&B with some ace players behind her. The slick veneer might be suited to upscale jazz clubs, but the narratives pull no punches. Even if there wasn’t a back-Storry here (sorry), the woman’s voice is enough of a draw on its own. Ain’t no AutoTune here, she belongs on a stage. Won’t even need a microphone.

US Girls – Heavy Light: It’s weird to think of Meg Remy as a Polaris veteran, but this is likely to be her third appearance on a shortlist and another likely winner—I thought she’d take it for 2018’s In a Poem Unlimited, my favourite record that year. Heavy Light picks up where that record left off, and, inspired by her 2018 Polaris performance, features a strong vocal presence from backing singers including arranger Kritty Uranowksi, James Baley (remember that name), and Basia Bulat. E Street saxophonist Jake Clemons also shows up, as do members of Arcade Fire and Ice Cream. The album was recorded largely live in Montreal by Howard Bilerman, and the electric energy is evident. Hard to go wrong with that many all-stars on board, and Remy rises to every challenge: she’s one of the most astute and fascinating lyricists working today, set to beautiful melodies steeped in the history of pop music. Part of this album’s success is due to Remy’s generous and collaborative spirit: she’s not precious about empowering her collaborators, working with co-writers (including Bulat), or even revisiting earlier material from her lo-fi solo days (“Overtime” and “Red Ford Radio” are highlights here). Everything about this exudes empathy and community, which is exactly what we need right now.  

Whoop-Szo – Warrior Down: I’m a lightweight when it comes to heavy music, which makes Whoop-Szo all the more surprising. This is stoner sludgy grunge that packs a wallop, even more so when Adam Sturgeon sings about his family’s experience in residential schools or a cousin being shot by cops in Saskatchewan (The chorus “Warrior down in a Saskatchewan town” says so much with six words, a Neil Young-esque simplicity all political songwriters should study). But this isn’t just a Sabbathian sonic anvil; this band started out as a considerably more experimental project, and there are more delicate moments here and prog diversions and deliciously dirty synth interludes and piano instrumentals. I don’t know who London, Ontario engineer Kyle Ashbourne is, but he’s heavy as fuck when he wants to be, with a Blurtonian touch that serves this material extremely well. Watch out for Whoop-Szo: at least one more record like this and they could turn into the most important rock band in Canada. Bandcamp link here.

Witch Prophet – DNA Activation: I certainly didn’t hear any other Canadian record like this in the last year: Habesha hip-hop beats with an Afrofuturist bent and jazzy saxophone (Karen Ng) throughout. Fans of Erykah Badu’s work with Georgia Anne Muldrow will find a lot to love here. 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. Bandcamp link here.

Wolf Parade – Thin Mind: All great bands who feel like they’re hitting a wall should take a seven-year break. It did wonders for Wolf Parade. Both 2017’s Cry Cry Cry and now Thin Mind take everything that was ever intriguing about this group of musicians—as players and songwriters—and amplify all their strengths. Rare is the rock band that actually gets better with age, but this new chapter of Wolf Parade is the prime of their career, and Pacific Northwest star producer John Goodmanson captures it perfectly. Other than the obvious strengths of frontmen Dan Boeckner and Spencer Krug, the MVP here is drummer Arlen Thompson, who gives the material a real swing and swagger. Fuck nostalgia, forge the future. Bandcamp link here.

I’ll feel extremely lucky if even half of those 40 records make the longlist.

These next ones are not my bag, but here are 15 artists whose albums are likely to be longlisted, so give them a listen if you haven't already: 

Marie-Pierre Arthur

Backxwash

Daniel Caesar

Dvsn 

Grimes

Flore Laurentienne

Men I Trust

Nap Eyes

Nehiyawak

William Prince

Jessie Reyez

Andy Shauf

Super Duty Tough Work 

Wares

The Weeknd

The official long list will be announced on Monday June 15.

Jurors will then have a chance to submit their shortlist ballot; the shortlist will be announced July 15, and the winner on Sept. 21.

Happy listening! Buy the music you love! 

 

Polaris Music Prize, day 4: Pup, Jessie Reyez

Day four of five examining this year's Polaris Music Prize shortlist, and some should've-beens. Day one (Marie Davidson, Elisapie) is here; day two (Fet.Nat, Dominique Fils-Aimé) is here; day three (Les Louanges, Haviah Mighty) is here.

The shortlisters: 

Pup – Morbid Stuff (Little Dipper)

The album: It’s my own ignorance that I can’t tell the difference between this and Sum 41. Musically, anyway: it’s clear that Pup wade into much deeper, darker lyrical territory, grappling with myriad mental health issues—could you tell from the title? Or maybe from the ferocious sounding “Full Blown Meltdown,” which is as heavy as it should be. As far as pop-punk with unison gang vocals go, this record is likely as good as it gets. My hang-ups with this album are entirely subjective and likely related to my age; it says a lot that my favourite thing about it is the accordion coda at the end of “Scorpion Hill.” Bonus points for having one song in 6/8 with a chorus in 5/8 (“Bloody Mary, Kate and Ashley”). Looking forward to hearing where these guys are in 10 years.

The chances: Nil. I do not think an all-boy, straightforward punk guitar quartet will ever win Polaris, no matter how good they may be. And no, please, for the love of your Christian god, please do not write an unreadable, interminable Quillette "think" piece about it. 



Jessie Reyez – Being Human In Public (Universal)

The album: This seven-song EP is a follow-up to her sensational 2017 EP Kiddo, which announced this major new talent to the world. She slayed on The Tonight Show and had a star turn with Daniel Caesar at the Junos duetting on “Figures.” Expectations were sky-high, and yet Being Human in Public sounds like Reyez slamming on the brakes and taking time to collect herself. She’s as fiery as ever on “Dear Yessie,” “Body Count” and “Saint Nobody,” all of which exude the confidence and prowess as a singer and rapper that set her far apart from her peers. “There is no template for Jessie Reyez: she is the template,” wrote Ryan Patrick in his Exclaim review—and yet “Fuck Being Friends” is almost a parody of herself. “Apple Juice” is a lovely soul waltz, and “Sola” is a solo acoustic number sung in Spanish (Reyez is the daughter of Colombian immigrants). Yet there’s nothing here that’s as bold or gripping as “Blue Ribbon,” “Figures” and “Gatekeeper,” the killer triumvirate at the heart of Kiddo, three of the greatest pop songs written in this country in the last decade. After arriving as one of the most original new voices in pop music—and a welcome antidote to the morose moping that passes for cutting-edge in both pop and rap—Reyez still sounds like she’s just warming up.

The chances: Slim. Reyez is a goddam superstar, but this feels like a mere stopgap.


The could’ve/would’ve/should’ve beens:  

Orville Peck – Pony (Royal Mountain / Sub Pop)

The album:

From my May review: 

Let’s say you’re a Toronto guy via Vancouver with a strong lower-register who loves country crooners. You’re also queer and you love Joy Division as much as you do Johnny Cash. At best, you’ll appeal to the same crowd as Timber Timbre, who certainly do well enough, but there’s a glass ceiling there. What do you do?
 
You dandy up in full rodeo regalia, develop a persona named Orville Peck and reveal very little about yourself—including your face, which you keep veiled behind a mask. The result: everyone is intrigued, no one asks about authenticity, and the music speaks for itself. 

Start with the voice: Peck has a commanding presence, his low tenor enhancing the gravity of whatever it is he’s singing about. If we are to believe the little about himself that he’s revealed to the press, he’s a classically trained singer who did time on stage in London’s West End. It’s not hard to believe. There’s certainly some Ian Curtis in the mix, although Peck’s particular accent calls to mind a much more unlikely ’80s reference: Stan Ridgway of Wall of Voodoo. The ’80s loom large here: not just in the overall Twin Peaks vibe (Peck would be a shoo-in for a gig at the Bang Bang Bar featured in the series’ 2017 sequel), but in that decade’s reverb-heavy approach to country music in what was then rebranded as “roots rock”: Steve Earle, BoDeans, Blue Rodeo, R.E.M.

Twangy guitars alone do not country music make; no, it’s the melancholy balladry that puts Peck in a country tradition. A song like “Kansas (Remember Me Now)” or “Roses Are Falling” aches like Patsy Cline, devoid of the drippy string sections, as if Cline were produced by Lee Hazlewood and not Owen Bradley. And titles like “Queen of the Rodeo,” “Old River” and “Big Sky” don’t hurt, either.

There’s a danger that all of this could just add up to shallow shtick, a male counterpart to Lana Del Rey (against whom I hold no prejudice, but also have no love). But Peck is no cypher. The man’s voice has passion and personality to burn—there’s a helluva lotta Elvis in this here building. He sounds completely invested in every note here, as does his backing band (comprised largely of angular Toronto postpunk band Frigs). Even his whistling is on point.

Time to ride Peck’s pony.

Why it didn’t shortlist: I was convinced it would. Alas. Among some jurors there is some deep resistance to Peck’s shtick—why, I don’t know. I thought authenticity died sometime in the ’90s. I think some critics feel conned by someone hiding behind a mask; a journalist’s instinct is that the public has the right to know everything about public figures—especially in this era of excessive sharing, on social media or otherwise—and so when someone purposely messes with that, critics get their collective back up. Of course, plenty of people just subjectively don’t like Peck’s songs. I’m sure the mask doesn’t help. Yet I’m not sure this project would work otherwise; Peck’s vibe doesn’t fit into modern sounds in country and western music, and would likely fall through several cracks without some other way of getting your attention. Remember Daughn Gibson? Right, exactly. 

Rae Spoon – Bodiesofwater (Coax)

The album:
 
From my September 2018 review:

“Should I be an artist, even after I turn 40?” asks Rae Spoon, rhetorically, on a peppy song they titled “Do Whatever the Heck You Want.” The answer, as shouted back by a sudden chorus of onlookers on the track, is, of course, “YES!” Especially if, like Spoon, you’re just hitting your prime.

Bodiesofwater, however, sounds very much like the culmination of a life’s work, and not only just because it’s so good that it sounds like a greatest-hits, with pop melodies that rival Alvvays and other current master crafters. Spoon has successfully integrated their electronic influences, which in the past often felt like slightly ill-fitting clothes, into their often sparse, guitar-based arrangements with live drums. The one time they dive deep into the electronics, on the stirring, dirgey anti-pipeline protest song “You Don’t Do Anything,” they sound like the Eurythmics’ earliest work (i.e. “This is the House,” from 1983’s Sweet Dreams). As an arranger, a producer, a songwriter and a storyteller, Spoon is at the top of their game.

Why it didn’t even longlist: That’s a bit of a crime. All these songs are killer, not to mention total earworms. I can only guess that a prolific artist of Spoon’s age is easily taken for granted, and people with a set impression didn’t open their ears. Don’t make the same mistake. Unrelated: there’s been some internal Polaris jury discussion about the lack of longlisters from the Prairies, which is entirely valid. (See also: Christine Fellows, Belle Plaine, John Wort Hannam.) Rae Spoon’s inclusion would have made a difference. They have a brand new record, Mental Health, which is almost as good. Let's talk about it in the next eight months.

Tomorrow: our final look at the shortlisted albums, with Shad and Snotty Nose Rez Kids, along with two final should've-beens.

Best of 2018

1. U.S. Girls – In a Poem Unlimited (Royal Mountain/4AD)

There’s no reason pop music should be “important.” But when an artist hits that sweet spot between great songs, catchy melodies, solid grooves, top-notch production and lyrics seeped in empathy that also fume with fury and challenge listener’s assumptions—well, that’s perfection. U.S. Girls, which has evolved from Meg Remy’s solo bedroom project into a brilliant band that encapsulates a tiny corner of Toronto’s creative community, not only made a brilliant record that sounds timeless, but also a record that encapsulates 2018: rage against rampant misogyny, writ large (“Pearly Gates”) and small (“Velvet 4 Sale”); questioning the legacy of political heroes (“M.A.H.”); the personal toll of environmental destruction (“Rage of Plastics”); yadda yadda yadda (“We all know what’s right … so what are we going to do to change?”). That Remy does this inside slinky pop songs that sound better every single time you spin them makes In a Poem Unlimited an absolute triumph. On top of all that, her live band is killer, and her a cappella gospel ensemble performance at the Polaris Music Prize gala was one for the ages. This poem is indeed unlimited. Original review here.

2. Low – Double Negative (Sub Pop)

In one of the best punk singles released in this year of incredible corruption and distortion of truth and dissolution of shame, Superchunk sang about how “to see the rot in no disguise / oh, what a time to be alive.” On one of the year’s best albums, Low sang about “Always Trying To Work It Out” while the lead vocal mutated and warped over guitars and electronics distorted beyond recognition, morphing and mutating over a steady floor-tom pulse; only drummer Mimi Parker’s backing vocal holds fast as a single source of purity in what otherwise sounds like beauty and purity rotting before our ears. Twelve albums into their career, Low is still challenging itself and scaring the crap out of everyone else. Double Negative sounds the way 2018 felt. Which makes it a shoo-in for this year’s time capsule. Original review here.

3. TuneYards – I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life (4AD)

Much like US Girls, TuneYards tackles many modern woes: social alienation, the perils of technology, California wildfires, the bubble of white privilege, colonial co-option of music of stories—you know, all the fun stuff. Oddly enough, Merrill Garbus and company do have a lot of fun, and manage to make all this a part of a wild dance party that’s largely delivered just by the duo of Garbus and right-hand man Nate Brenner. This Private Life has a plethora of layers, both musical and lyrical, in which one can dive in deep while dancing down the street. Original review here.

4. Jeremy Dutcher – Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa (independent)

Yes, part of the appeal of this Polaris Prize-winning record is that there is literally nothing else like it in the world: an opera singer and pianist who sings exclusively in an almost-forgotten North American Indigenous language spoken by fewer than 100 people in the modern age. But concept aside, it’s also simply a powerful and emotional listening experience, listening to Dutcher dance with the ghosts of his elders. Small wonder he’s smashing barriers left, right and centre, and finding a global audience of music fans for his hyperlocal history project. Original review here.

5. Bonjay – Lush Life (Mysteries of Trade)

If Lush Life contained only the unadorned vocals of Alanna Stuart, it would still be on this list—for she delivers the most shiver-inducing, knockout vocal performance of the year on this record. But it’s the music here, co-written with Bonjay’s other half, Ian Swain, that truly transforms Stuart’s vocal skills into a killer pop record that, at times, sounds like Kate Bush making a shockingly successful stab at dancehall, produced by Bjork in a pre-dawn Berlin. And yet: it sounds so fully and completely Toronto at the same time. Original review here.

6. Lotic – Power (Tri Angle)

This sound sculptor is a trans Texan woman living in Berlin. Needless to say, their music crosses borders effortlessly, finding exquisite beauty in off-kilter or even scarred sounds, borrowing equally from the avant-garde side of trap hip-hop, neo-classical composition and the icy edges of European minimal techno. Original review here.

7. Dennis Ellsworth – Things Change (independent)

Singer-songwriters rarely cut it for me anymore—unless they’re this good. This Charlottetown record-store clerk is a prolific guy with plenty of pleasant-enough albums, but he knocks it out of the park here, with the help of producer Joel Plaskett. Twelve songs in 40 minutes, staving off one midlife crisis after another, each encapsulating all the best singles of ’90s indie rock and alt-country, enough to make Jeff Tweedy jealous. “Life is cruel but beautiful,” goes my favourite song here, one that’s been on constant repeat since the first day I heard it. Easily the most underrated record of the year. Original review here.

8. Cadence Weapon – s/t (EOne)

Most MCs are more than happy to talk primarily about themselves; Cadence Weapon, on the other hand, is an astute observer and portrait painter: of people, of music scenes, of urban ennui. His lyrical game has a poet’s eye, one that continues to improve with age, but it’s the musical vision here that’s truly captivating. Birthed in both Montreal and Toronto, the music here is big, bass-y and bold, hip-hop informed by EDM trends without ever succumbing to the noisy, ham-handed clichés of that genre. It’s also diverse: no two tracks here sound the same, which is a rarity these days in albums of any genre. Original review here.

9. Sons of Kemet – Your Queen is a Reptile (Impulse)

Saxophonist Shabaka Hutchings has been a light in London’s jazz scene in recent years, fronting several bands and floating just under the radar—until now, with Sons of Kemet’s debut for venerable label Impulse, and a spot on the Mercury Prize shortlist. Backed up by a tuba player and two drummers, Hutchings delivers one breathtaking performance after another, drawing from New Orleans funk to reggae to Mingus swing to hip-hop to wherever the rhythm takes him and his cohorts. They’re brilliant at raising the roof; it’s the quieter moments here that are more surprising, and make for a well-rounded record. Plus, the song titles send you scurrying down wormholes of Black history. Original review here.

10. Anna Calvi – Hunter (Domino)

Calvi is a close runner-up to Bonjay’s Alanna Stuart for delivering the vocal performance of the year, displaying an operatic breadth over dramatic art-pop that draws from a template seemingly specified to British music in 1997-98: Radiohead’s OK Computer, PJ Harvey’s Is This Desire, Portishead’s Dummy, Bjork’s Homogenic. But if the musical template sounds familiar, Calvi’s vocals take everything to a whole other plane, bending gender stereotypes at every turn. She’s also a killer guitarist, and her drummer is a perfect match. Original review here.

11. Janelle Monae – Dirty Computer (Universal)

“If the world should end tonight / I had a crazy, classic life.” Sure sounds like it: Monae is a consummate entertainer, especially now that she’s dropped the more robotic elements of her “Arch-Android” persona. Dirty Computer delivers on all the promise she’s ever shown; we always hear about who’s supposed to be the new Michael Jackson, a debate that Monae can easily put to rest. Original review here.

2. Hubert Lenoir – Darlène (Simone)

The first three tracks on this Québécois francophone’s debut move from jazz to glam rock to metal, and the rest is just as successfully eclectic. This kid has total starpower, the talent to back it up, and the curiosity that will ensure a long career. This is just the start. Extra points for the tenor saxophone, which U.S. Girls also put to good use this year. Original review here.

13. La Force – s/t (Arts and Crafts)

In 2013, Ariel Engle made my favourite record that year as one-half of AroarA (with Broken Social Scene’s Andrew Whiteman). La Force is her solo debut, and it’s a stunner: her haunting vocals sing torch melodies and droning folk songs over syncopated rhythms and new wave textures. Original review here.

14. Neneh Cherry – Broken Politics (Smalltown Supersound)

Neneh Cherry has had many phases of her 30-year career: pop star, African music explorer, midwife to Massive Attack, collaborator with FourTet and free jazz trio The Thing. All those sides of her unite on this, her second album with FourTet, moving easily through a variety of moods and genres.

15. Fucked Up – Dose Your Dreams (Arts and Crafts/Merge)

As someone who only ever enjoyed this hardcore punk band in the smallest of doses—despite their oft-grandiose, artsy ambitions—I fell hard for this opus, which delivers the kind of musical diversity they’ve always strived for, complete with many guest vocalists lifting the weight off Damian Abraham. This is the album they’ve been aiming to make all these years. Original review here.

16. Zaki Ibrahim – The Secret Life of Planets (independent)

With both Ibrahim and Neneh Cherry putting out albums in 2018, here’s hoping they get a chance to meet, play some shows together, and trade notes, because they’re very much cut from the same cloth. Though she shares Cherry’s jazzy bent, Ibrahim has a thing for classic synths that sets her apart from elders or the new crop of nouveau R&B singers. This record sums up why I once dubbed her approach “sci-fi soul,” a descriptor she’s taken to heart. Original review here.

17. Onyx Collective – Lower East Side Part Three (Ninja Tune)

This NYC jazz ensemble is known for popping up in random spots all over the city, so it’s apt that this record sounds like it was made in a subway station, both sonically and for the raw energy and conversational tone between the players. This is the antithesis of smooth jazz, but neither is it abrasive or deliberately challenging. Isaiah Barr’s saxophone is a siren’s call that draws you deep into a dance with the rhythm section. Before you know it, you’ve missed your train and learned a valuable lesson: the journey is more important than the destination. Original review here.

18. Richard Reed Parry – Quiet River of Dust Part One (Arts and Crafts/Anti)

A member of one of the world’s biggest rock bands wants you to simmer down and immerse yourself in a two-part concept album (the second instalment drops on March 21) about life, death, and the liminal space between the two. It doesn’t sound that good on paper; thankfully, it does on record—and even more so live. Parry shies away from the term “psychedelic folk,” but that pretty much sums up this amalgam of very early Pink Floyd, Brian Eno, Arthur Russell, Caribou, and those very tiny parts of Animal Collective that aren’t inherently terrible. This is the kind of record that will suspend time—if you let it. Original review here.

19. Rae Spoon – Bodiesofwater (Coax)

I’m a sucker for artists who hit their stride on the other side of 40, and Rae Spoon is one. Bodiesofwater finds the Western Canadian artist chock full of pop hooks and interesting arrangements that draw from between indie rock, folk-country and electronic textures. “Do Whatever the Heck You Want” is an irresistible earworm of affirmation, while “You Don’t Do Anything” is the sharpest political song of the year, next to Steven Page’s “White Noise.” Original review here.

20. Jack White – Boarding House Reach (Sony)

This is just so delightfully batshit crazy. The Jack White I love best is when he really doesn’t give a shit and just lets loose. Also: if Beasties besties Mike D and Ad Rock ever feel like kicking out some new jams, they should give White a call. Original review here.

Tribute acts—as good or better than the originals: 

Angelique Kidjo – Remain in Light (Kravenworks). In which a modern African artist reimagines the Talking Heads’ greatest album and recasts it with a decidedly modern bent that crosses just as many borders as the original. In doing so, Kidjo also illuminates subtexts and prescient points in David Byrne’s original lyrics. This is essential listening that works on several levels—including just pure pleasure.  Original review here.

Meshell Ndgeocello – Ventriloquism (Naive). Lots of people cover pop and rock songs from the ’80s and ’90s, but Ndgeocello illustrates that the R&B of the time was also full of solid songwriting that transcends time, even if the names Al B. Sure and Ralph Tresvant and Force MDs don’t get bandied about much anymore. Yes, there are songs here by Prince, Sade, Tina Turner and Janet Jackson, but they don’t stand out any taller from the many underrated gems here, and Ndgeocello breathes welcome life into each equally. 

Reissues:

Alanis Obomsawin – Bush Lady (Constellation).

I didn’t even know the legendary filmmaker was a musician until relatively recently. Seeing the then-85-year-old play a 15-minute set solo, with just a drum, at the National Arts Centre as part of a Native North America gathering this past February, was, quite simply, one of the most mesmerizing and inspiring performances I’ve ever seen in my life. This woman exudes otherworldly charisma in the same way Patti Smith, Bjork, PJ Harvey, Nick Cave or Gord Downie all do for me, yet she does so with just her Piaf-like voice and the tiniest of gestures. That this recording sat in her closet for the past 30 years, after a very brief private run, is insane to me. It’s gorgeous, haunting, and vital. Original review here.

Prince – Piano and a Microphone 1983 (Warner).

There is always more to Prince—and there’s always more Prince. This previously unearthed solo set is exactly as advertised, and it’s revelatory in many ways, not the least of which is his skill as a pianist. (Yes, we always knew he could do everything, but hearing him naked here is a whole other trip.) This is hardly for hardcore fans only. Original review here.

2017 albums I fell in love with in 2018:

Snotty Nose Rez Kids –  The Average Savage. Review here.  

Amyl & the Sniffers – Big Attraction. Review here.