(pair of mirrors)

#1. Bon Iver - Bon Iver 

“Michicant” 

The year 2011 produced a perfect album.

Bon Iver is the artist whose legacy with outlive us all. Years from now, he will be up there with Bob Dylan, Neil Young, and Nick Drake. Bon Iver is the ultimate modern songwriter – he is at once cryptic, passionate, complicated, versatile, and profound.

The most incredible thing of all is that in 2011 Bon Iver resisted the urge to remain Bon Iver. The songs from his 2008 debut For Emma, Forever Ago, in light of this year’s self-titled release, seem infinitely dwarfed. Before 2011, I would classify as quintessential Bon Iver songs like “Skinny Love” and “Re: Stacks”. These songs from For Emma were gritty, guitar-ridden spectacles of a broken heart. They were painful and sometimes even unbearable. Justin Vernon’s sadness on those songs was infectious and overwhelming, but the music itself, while in many ways very creative, was nowhere near this year’s Bon Iver.

Bon Iver is not an album about love – it’s an album about life. That is the biggest difference from 2008’s For Emma. Sometimes Bon Iver isabout the nostalgia and the sadness of life, but at the same time it’s about the power that can be drawn from those moments. There are lines on Bon Iver that can be interpreted in a million different ways – “I can see for miles and miles and miles,” for instance, or “and at once I knew, I was not magnificent”. It’s a kind of album that seems enchanted and dreamlike – the way it transitions from movement to stillness, from silence to sound. Every single song on Bon Iver contains an infinite number of layers. Every time you listen to the songs, you feel like you’ve peeled back one more layer, you feel like you’re that much closer to the very heart of Vernon’s voice, and to its meaning.

If I could describe Bon Iver in one sentence it would be that the album is the very manifestation of a living, breathing, human being’ soul. It’s the brain, the heart, and the body combined, within one devastatingly perfect 40-minute package.

-L 

#3. tUnE-yArDs - w h o k i l l 

“My Country” 

You’ve never heard music that sounds like Tune-Yards before, which in many ways is the reason for Whokill’s high placement on this year’s countdown. Tune-Yards manages to marry fierce experimental pop with insatiable listenability. Songs like “Bizness” and “Gangsta” are funky and creative to the core. You’re never quite sure if what you’re listening to is the chorus, bridge, or verse - no such definitions exist in front woman Merrill Garbus’ musical universe. And yet, what ends up happening is that the words, guitars, hooks, drums, beats, and whatever else you hear on Whokill, blend and mingle together to create a massive, catchy, 42-minute party anthem. 

Whokill sounds like all the musical genres got together and had a dance party. Parts of Whokill sound like Dirty Projectors, Lauryn Hill, Micachu, Animal Collective, Braids, Erykah Badu, Beyonce, and Lady Gaga. Yet, the biggest achievement of Whokill is not the endless juxtaposition and amalgamation of musical genres - after all, that has been done before - but rather the fact that Garbus has managed to do it in a catchy and listenable way. No longer is experimental pop only for people who like weird music! No longer is experimental pop frowned at at a party! No longer is it somewhat tedious to listen to experimental pop! Tune-Yards put an end to all such pre-conceptions with Whokill, a pop album that is both weird and wonderful, eccentric yet accessible. 

It’s the pop sound of the future. 

-L

#6. Destroyer - Kaputt

“Chinatown” 

Kaputt is a weird little album. First of all, you will never find cohesive, non-nonsensical lyricism on Kaputt. Every line uttered by Dan Bejar on Kaputt seems to emerge from the dark and mysterious depths of his brain. It’s a free association game at its finest. Lines like “I wrote a song for America, they told me it was clever,” followed by “Jessica’s gone on vacation on the dark side of town forever” from “Song For America” make you just sit and wonder where on earth that came from. Another good line is from “Chinatown”: “The wind and the rain: to your detriment you try to explain / The government swallowed up in the squall / I can’t walk away, at all - in Chinatown”. 

On top of the above-mentioned lyrical free-for-all comes a side of musical accompaniment that is decidedly stuck in the eighties. And not just eighties in general, but the cheesiest of eighties. Suave smooth-jazzy soprano saxes and clarinets accompany Bejar’s voice on “Chinaown” and “Downtown.” Light percussions and snazzy synths dominate “Savage Night at the Opera”. Easy listening flutes provide the melody for “Suicide Demo for Kara Walker.” In the words of my ever-wise boyfriend: “They kind of sound like Pet Shop Boys.” 

On paper, Kaputt as an album should not add up to much. And yet the eighties-ness of the music, the whimsical subject matter, and the nonchalance of Bejar’s voice as well as his fake British accent all combine to make a brilliantly light album, one which borders on ironic, sarcastic, and, well, insane. 

-L

#8. M83 - Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming

“Reunion” 

There is a special category of albums that always seems to weasel their way into listeners’ hearts. They are the albums that seek to sound like life itself. They attempt to capture the inaudible joy of blood flowing through your veins, air pumping through your lungs, and neurons firing in your brain. M83’s Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming is exactly that kind of album.

I can’t say it any other way – listening to Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming, gives me this amazing natural high. The album is hugely atmospheric. You can walk down the street listening to it and you’ll be convinced you’re listening to the soundtrack of your own life. A song like “Intro” conjures images of a beginning of a great adventure. “Midnight City” and “This Bright Flash” capture the feeling of the most amazing night in the world, in the most amazing place, with the most amazing friends. “Soon My Friend” is just about that – missing an incredible person, but knowing that you will be reunited with them soon. “Wait” is a gentle little song, about sad endings, but new beginnings.

And “Reunion”, the standout track of the album, is probably the most magnificent proclamation of undying, earth-shattering love that I have heard in years:

You came out of nowhere, stealing my heart and brain.

Flaming my every cell. You make me feel myself.

Oh oh oh oh oh oh! Will you stay in this land forever?

Across the time and space, a never-ending dance.

A blooming and a trance. You make me feel my soul.

There’s no more loneliness, only sparkles and sweat.

There’s no more single fate. You make me feel myself. 

Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming is a laugh-to, cry-to, walk-down-the-street-to, make-love-to, have-an-epiphany-to, and just love-your-life-to album. It’s stunning, magnificent, and real. It’s perfect.

-L

#10. Radiohead - The King of Limbs

“Lotus Flower”

The King of Limbs is a kind of album that gets better with every week that goes by. In January, when King of Limbs came out, I was intrigued by the album. By the summer, I was hooked. Now, I’m in love.  

The King of Limbs is great because, on pretty much every song, you hear elements of the kind of musical song-crafting which made Radiohead such a widely renowned band in the first place. The runny piano that opens “Bloom” and closes the album on “Separator” is one example. The piano melody is sporadic, cryptic, and intense – just like The King of Limbs, and just like Radiohead. But at the same time, the fact that the album opens and closes with the same riff implies that there is meaning and purpose to that little piano. And that’s the great thing about Radiohead – nothing is ever random, even if it appears so. Radiohead is the great philosopher-band of our time. 

It is also impossible to talk about The King of Limbs and not talk about “Lotus Flower”, as well as its truly magnificent video. On “Lotus Flower” Thom Yorke shows how much of a virtuoso-mastermind he really is. The song itself joins the ranks of all-time best Radiohead songs, up there with “Karma Police” and “Idioteque”. And then there’s the video - the way Thom moves to the beat of his own music, the way he mouths his own words, really the way he becomes one with his music is simply stunning. 

Overall, The King of Limbs is a classic album. It may not be Radiohead’s best album ever, but that’s an incredibly high mark to clear. Rather, The King of Limbs is as good as any album that came out in 2011, and definitely better than most. 

-L

#13. Bright Eyes – The People’s Key  

“Beginner’s Mind”

Bright Eyes got no love in 2011. BBC Music compared Conor Oberst’s recent songwriting to Bob Dylan’s “mid-60s period of surrealism”, one which left “a few people cold.” Pitchfork gave The People’s Key an unkind 5.0, and even that seems only because The People’s Key was directly inspired by a suicide of Oberst’s close friend. Even blogs who initially gave The People’s Key positive reviews, like NME and Rolling Stone, have forgotten about the album for purposes of their year-end reviews. This Listermas, I haven’t heard a whisper about The People’s Key.

And that’s a shame. The People’s Key is among Oberst’s best work. It is an album in tried and true Bright Eyes fashion. It is cryptic and tough to level with; at points it’s emotional, brooding, psychotic, hysterical, and over-the-top. The subject matter has definitely changed – The People’s Key is no longer the dark poetry of a troubled youth, circa Lifted, or The Story is in the Soil, So Keep Your Ear to the Ground. In the almost 10 years which have passed since the release of Lifted, Conor has grown up and moved on to new paradigms of contemplation. On The People’s Key,references abound to Haile Selassie (an Ethipian emperor), the Queen of Shebah (a ruler from biblical times), the Lion of Judah, and pretty much everything to do with Rastafarism.

Personally, the fact that Conor has moved on to new, mystical subject matter did not bother me very much. Bright Eyes have always been somewhat inaccessible to the average listener. On Fevers and Mirrors, Lifted, and I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning, Conor sang about his rage for things like love and war. He was furious, depressed, and violent. I can’t say I ever completely got what he said, but I could certainly appreciate its gravity.

The lyrical power that Bright Eyes are so famous for is everpresent on The People’s Key. Even the shamanic prayer that kicks off the album carries a certain je-ne-sais-quoi. “What if this leads to ruin?” asks Conor on Halie Selassie, which immediately leads to the response – “You got a soul. Use it.” On “Jejune Stars,” Conor offers cryptic words of wisdom: “Come fire, come water, come karma, we’re all in transition.” But most importantly, throughout all of The People’s Key, Conor keeps coming up with entire segments of the type of transcendent poetry which made him famous in the first place:

A cocktail napkin epitaph,

Some psycho babel telegram,

Message written in the sand,

The tide rolls in.

Swear you’ll do the opposite,

Of all those tangled hypocrites,

Who say that the experiment has failed.

Don’t go there – cause you’re getting nowhere…

(“Beginner’s Mind”)

-L 

#16. Washed Out - Within & Without

“WIthin & Without” 

Washed Out’s breakout EP, which surfaced in March of 2010, was aptly titled Life of Leisure. That 2010 EP was light and easy to like. Tracks like “Feel It All Around” and “Hold Out” were lively and synthy while still managing to remain loose and sleepy. The album evoked relaxation – and yes – leisure.

It also helped that the infamous “chillwave”, which Washed Out, a.k.a. Ernest Greene, pretty much started, was the most happening musical genre back in March of 2010. So when Life of Leisure dropped, every scenester quit what they were doing and proceeded to actively pursue chilling out.

I have to say that when Life of Leisure came out, I actually very much liked a handful of tracks on it. However, I quickly got tired of Life of Leisure’s repetitive lo-fi electronica, which caused this EP to quickly disappear from my radar. Life of Leisure was a good album, but it was never a particularly compelling one.

 What was supposed to happen is that Washed Out, having had his brief moment in the “chillwave” sun, would soon disappear along with “chillwave” itself. But things didn’t quite pan out like that – in the summer of 2010, Ariel Pink put out one of the genre’s – and the year’s – best albums (Before Today), and this year Neon Indian followed up with Era Extraña, another outstanding “chillwave” album which was literally the first album out of our top 20 (sorry!).

Added to that list is Within & Without, Washed Out’s 2011 release. This first full-length album by Washed Out is much more mature and engaging than its predecessor EP. The album is less about leisure, and more about subtle, building tension. The opening track, “Echoes”, sets the mood. In that song beats and loops continue to layer on top of a basic synth line until, at about 30 seconds to go, the song gets to a point where everything that was introduced throughout the song is present at once. The resulting combination is truly beautiful, almost metaphysical, and the growth of the song towards that point is very organic. The whole thing is just effortless.  

The title track, “Within & Without,” is the standout of the album. The piano-like melody which permeates that song is sad and melancholy. You can’t really tell what the lyrics are, but they sound downcast. The main hook is not far from Bon Iver’s latest. Instead of relaxing and falling asleep, Within & Without makes you want to stare and wonder. It is the soundtrack to the coldest of winters; the dark night of the soul. And with this album, Ernest Greene has made a big statement – “chillwave” or no “chillwave,” Washed Out is here to stay. 

-L

#18 - Gillian Welch - The Harrow & The Harvest

“Down Along The Dixie Line” 

2011 was the year that Gillian Welch and her longtime musical partner David Rawlings finally ended her 8-year hiatus. The Harrow & The Harvest, Welch’s latest release, is everything you hope and dream a Gillian Wench work would sound like. The Harrow & The Harvest is pure poetry; it is a collection of beautiful stories unpolluted by production or percussion. The Harrow & The Harvest flows peacefully along a gentle river of sound, supported by not much more than Rawlings’ six-string (and banjo).

In this day and age, this kind of simplicity is stunning. Welch sounds like she belongs in pre-industrial Tennessee, not modern day America. Her songs conjure up visions of farmhouses, humid southern nights, creaky veranda floorboards, straw hats, and lullabies. Welch makes you want to lead a simple life, circa fifty years ago. 

“Banjos are strumming / Horseflies are humming / Ripe melons on the vine” croons Welch in “Down Along The Dixie Line”, and you can just sense what she is singing about. Somehow, if you really listen to the way Welch sings that line, you can detect life, peace, joy, longing, sadness, reconciliation, acceptance, and love. And that’s just one line.

Such narrative energy is present on every one of Welch’s songs on The Harrow & The Harvest, really on every one of Welch’s songs ever  – that’s what makes Gillian Welch so great. However, the narrative is not always about “the river of whisky that flows down in Dixie”, or similarly whimsical subject matter. Sometimes the narrative is pretty hard-hitting. Take, for instance “Way it Goes”. “Becky Johnson bought the farm / Put a needle in her arm” sings Welch, which leads to “And her brother laid her down / In the cold Kentucky ground.” The lesson? Things end, things begin, and that’s the way it goes:

That’s the way,

That’s the way that it goes

Everybody’s buying little baby clothes…

And that’s the way that it ends –

Though there was a time when she and I were friends.

Gillian Welch comes up with pure poetry on The Harrow & The Harvest. If you’re looking for an album to bop along to, chat to, drink tea to, then this isn’t the one for you. This album is so elusive and subtle that, if you’re going to do it justice, you need to sit down and listen it – like a book. 

-L