Its almost mid-December, which means its time to start revealing my Top 20 albums for 2017. As usual, I will present this in two parts, with entries 11-20 posted below and the Top 10 going up in a couple of weeks. I follow this format mostly to generate some vague feeling of anticipation to those who follow the blog, but it also allows me to spend just a little extra time with the Top 10 for some last minute tweaking if necessary.
Truth is, though, the harder of these two posts to write is undoubtedly this one, because it represents the cut-off - what albums “made it” and what albums “didn’t.” Last year, I kind of cheated by expanding the list to 30, but even so, there were several great albums that I didn’t include. I have been more diligent in my “roundup” practices this year, though, and in the process have created a relatively accurate record of what has gone through the player.
As a result, I have gone back to 20, and in the process have sadly left off many great albums by longstanding favorites and newer artists that might need the exposure. If these albums prove their mettle in the long run, however, they may receive a dedicated post at some later date.
The same criterion apply as in previous years. An album doesn’t have to have a 2017 release date to qualify, but it has to have connected with my 2017 experiences in one way or another. An album cannot be repeated from a previous year or be strongly associated with experiences previous to 2017, and there can be only one entry per artist.
20. Twin Peaks -The Return OST: This entry represents a whole lot of Twin Peaks music I listened to this year. Although I strongly reconnected with the Fire Walk With Me OST before the new series began, it has past associations preclude its status as a clear representation of 2017.
19. Steven Wilson - To the Bone: I have a few reservations about this release. It’s many good moments, however, represent some of the best music I have had the pleasure of checking out this year.
18. Fleet Foxes - Crack-Up: Where Wilson’s above-noted album represents more accessible aspects of his style, Crack-Up veers towards a more contemplative and open-ended approach. If you perceive the Fleet Foxes to be “The Beach Boys of Winter,” this might be considered their SMiLE.
17. Roger Waters - Is This the Life We Really Want?: To pose a third contrast, Water’s newest release is no more experimental or accessible than his previous work, but instead digs further into his already well-established style. Times have come back around to meet him, however, and his acerbic social commentary seems more relevant now than it was during the last conservative political cycle.
16. Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith - The Kid: Smith is one of the more original artists that I have had the pleasure of discovering in the past couple of years. It is encouraging to hear the arc of her artistic development on The Kid.
15. Geinoh Yamashirogumi - Akira Symphonic Suite: This is an incredibly innovative recording for the time that it was released. When Paul Simon was barely scratching the surface of intercultural syncretism in his music, this collective had already reconciled the tuning discrepancies between Western keyboards and gamelan, cultivating a compelling pan-Pacific style that is crucial to the eerie feel of Akira.
14. Johann Johannsen - Orphee: Johann Johannsen’s soundtrack for Arrival was my most-played album of the year, but his free-standing 2016 album Orphee is a superior work by a small margin. Its subtle narrative provides an autonomy that Arrival, as great as it is, does not require in as great a measure.
12. Weezer - Everything Will Be Alright In The End: I would confidently argue that Everything Will Be Alright In The End is the best album from the band in many years, beating out even last year’s Weezer [white]. It reinvents what was so compelling about the band in the first place by focusing on adult insecurity rather than faux teen angst.
11. Gaye Su Akyol - Hologram Imparatorlegu: Gaye Su Akyol is an amazingly quirky and daring Turkish art-rocker that I was fortunate to stumble upon this year. I still insist that the world would be a better place if someone could get her contact information in front of David Lynch.
My stint as a record store employee in the late 80s and early 90s had a big impact on widening my taste in popular styles, but in retrospect, my preferences for soundtracks and instrumental music was still relatively narrow. Shortly after my good friend Snoopy and I invented binge-watching on a now well-worn Twin Peaks VHS box set, however, I purchased the Twin Peaks soundtrack. It might have seemed a bit incongruous with the rest of my collection back then, but Angelo Badalamenti’s unique mix of environmental synthesizers, emotive piano, dreamy pop, and dark four-dimensional jazz caused this soundtrack to emerge as a personal favorite that endures as a classic to this day. I used to put it on headphones and go on walkabouts, pretending like I could see into the inner worlds of people passing by and perceive the whispers that exist outside of everyday existence.
It was this album that allowed me to see the fascinating paradox that lies at the root of any good soundtrack. The various tracks on the Twin Peaks OST are able to stand on their own merit as self-encapsulated compositions, but are also inextricably bound to the show’s uniquely surreal narrative. While various tracks serve a multiplicity of purposes throughout the show’s run, no singular track sums up Twin Peaks more effectively than Laura Palmer’s Theme. Its seamless travels through cycles of melodramatic ecstasy and sinister darkness unerringly reflects both the character Laura Palmer and the show as a whole.
The Twin Peaks soundtrack broke me out of a flattened and somewhat limiting rock sensibility that laid at the very foundation of my musical identity. It's effectiveness in bringing the playfully surreal tone of the show back to life for the listener is, in its own way, as masterful as anything produced by King Crimson’s technique or Jellyfish’s songwriting. It ended up playing a very important role in my musical history, so it is understandable that when the new series was announced and Badalamenti was confirmed as its composer, I was very eager to get its soundtrack in rotation as soon as possible.
The burning question on my mind, of course, was whether or not the new series soundtrack would strike the balance between autonomy and association as effectively as the original. Although it similarly connects with the narrative of the new series, it doesn’t stand on its own as effectively as its predecessor, which is, again paradoxically, due to a change in the show’s narrative approach. David Lynch’s increased creative control in this new run has resulted in a darker, more ethereal, and often impenetrable version of Twin Peaks. Badalamenti’s new cues reflect this with less melodic, more ambient compositions.
There are other distinguishing factors that, I think, also have something to do with Lynch’s greater creative control. With the exception of the original Twin Peaks OST, most of Lynch’s soundtracks are usually a mix of composed musical cues and curated tracks, and the soundtrack for Twin Peaks: The Return is aligned with this tradition. Badalamenti’s cues are prominent, but I admit that I am a bit disappointed that the soundtrack is not entirely his music. The curated tracks pulled in from other sources, however, play significant roles throughout the series and would be noticeable in their absence. As an example, Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima, which is presented in its entirety on the soundtrack, and used to devastating effect in the show.
Clearly, patience is the name of the game with the new series, and subsequently there are portions of the soundtrack that require a similar mindset. While the “coffee and cherry pie” crowd might have been largely chased off by this new approach, I found it compelling, if not always entertaining. Entertainment, however, at least in the superficial sense, is perhaps not the immediate point of Twin Peaks: The Return. The real value of David Lynch’s idiosyncratic style, and what makes this run so appealing, is that it demands that the viewer participate in creating meaning. Valued on this criterion, Twin Peaks: the Return was an unmitigated success, and its soundtrack is similarly successful in capturing its open-ended mystery.
Since O came into the world, I have not posted very often on individual albums, but I have remained diligent in keeping track of what albums I have been listening to and with what frequency. As a result, 2017’s roundups serve as a pretty complete document of my listening this year. There is a small gap, however, that began in September and ends now, in mid-November, that I still need to document. These final albums are the last contenders for my 2017 favorites.
Grizzly Bear - Painted Ruins: From a songwriting standpoint, Painted Ruins is perhaps a bit less memorable than Grizzly Bear’s previousalbums. In the end, however, its sonic characteristics push their sound to its most theatrical and refined iteration, making for a consistently engaging listening experience. Steven Wilson - To the Bone: Wilson’s most recent effort is an intentional break from the progressive masterworks that have defined his solo work. It is, instead, a somewhat inconsistent but successful move towards a more concise and accessible sound. Twin Peaks: The Return OST: The soundtrack to the recent Twin Peaks series is as effective in representing the show as its predecessor. That doesn’t mean, however, that it is necessarily an easy or accessible listen as much as it is an intriguing one. Twin Peaks: Songs from The Return: I am usually ambivalent about curated soundtracks, but my quest for answers to the myriad questions posed by the new Twin Peaks piqued my interest. Of course, it doesn't provide any obvious answers, but it does reveal the subtle influence that Lynch’s work has exerted on popular music. Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith - The Kid: Smith’s last album immediately grabbed my attention and blew my mind, and I was concerned about her capacity to follow it up. With its linear narrative and streamlined song structures, The Kid is a worthy successor. Geinoh Yamashirogumi - Akira Symphonic Suite: My current interest in soundtracks landed the rerelease of the Akira OST in rotation on an impulse. Although I have seen the movie several times, I did not remember it being so “world-fusion” in execution, and I certainly did not realize that it was written and conceived by such a fascinating collective of musicians. Lunatic Soul - Fractured: Lunatic Soul has been on my wishlist since the KScope Sampler a couple of years ago. Positive reviews on this most recent release forced my hand, and it has not disappointed. King Crimson - Starless and Bible Black: I was fortunate enough to see King Crimson on their most recent tour, and in the process of preparing myself I spent a little time reviewing their back catalog. This is a gem from the John Wetton era that I have often overlooked but that has taken on new life in the wake of the concert. Mark Mothersbaugh - Thor: Ragnarok OST: Mothersbaugh’s (of Devo fame) name caught my attention, but a cursory listen really got me excited. Thor: Ragnarok is a compelling blend of orchestral grandeur and retro-synth mayhem that really hit me where I live.
It was probably around 1991 when I purchased the full Twin Peaks series box set on VHS. At that point, I had never seen the show, but was my intention to watch it in Denton while a couple of close friends from High School simultaneously watched it in Austin. In theory, we agreed to watch an episode a week and have discussions when we visited every few weeks. In practice, none of us had any idea how addictive the show would be. We quickly became prototypical “binge-watchers,” secretly going ahead with “just one more episode.” Our plan to watch the show over the course of months barely lasted a week, but our respect and interest in the work of David Lynch stretched out into the decades to follow.
After Twin Peaks, I followed Lynch’s work unwaveringly, and I started to notice that some images and events recur in his work. I started to give them pet names: The Transformation, the Jagged Carpet, The Scream, etc. These Lynchian tropes seemed symbolic in a way similar to Salvador Dali’s use of melting clocks and ants as surrealistic images. In an attempt to give this armchair analysis of his work some credence, I often referred to these as Lynch’s “iconography.”
One role I named “The Chanteuse.” It takes the form of a lip-synched musical performance, almost (but not always) performed by a female actor in a private late-night setting. In Twin Peaks, this character was represented by Juliee Cruise, but it shows up in nearly all of David Lynch’s films in one form or another. In 2001’s Mulholland Drive, for example, he goes so far as to acknowledge the symbolic nature of this character, providing some uncharacteristic insight as to its meaning.
Lynch is gearing up to be back in the spotlight again with the imminent release of the new Twin Peaks season this coming May. Suffice it to say that I am extremely excited. If the hints that we have gotten through the show’s casting are any indication, the role of The Chanteuse might very well be played by Austin musician Chrysta Bell. Which is great - Bell is an incredible artist that fits the aesthetic perfectly. If the Twin Peaks revival is the beginning of a new creative arc, however, I would make a case to Mr. Lynch to consider the Turkish art-rocker Gaye Su Akyol for a future incarnation of The Chanteuse.
Gaye Su Akyol’s most recent release Hologram Imperatorlugu is an engaging blend of gypsy-flavored tradition and twangy guitar rock that seems ready-made to plug into one of David Lynch’s late-night soirees. Her image fits seamlessly within the already established characteristics of the role. Not only does her music blend “otherness” with familiarity, Gaye Su Akgol also captures the aloof distance that The Chanteuse almost always exudes. Bubituzak, her backing band, extends the sense of mystery by performing in cyptic black masks. It is not a stretch to envision her performing to an enthralled audience teetering on the brink of an otherworldly encounter.
I feel pretty certain, however, that Chrysta Bell has a lock on the role for the new Twin Peaks episodes. I am grateful in any case, because I never realistically thought that I would see a continuation of the Twin Peaks series. Her presence in the cast is particularly exciting because it suggests that Lynch might be as interested in injecting new blood into the show as he is in revisiting the things that made it so engaging in the first place. This makes me think that Gaye Su Akyol could not only play the part of The Chanteuse in the future, but also could contribute to its continued evolution by diversifying its cultural background even further.
Although I am not a huge fan of soundtracks, every now and then I will pick one up. I appreciate that TV and movie scores are one of the last arenas in which instrumental music still has the public’s ear, and some compelling scores exist. For me, scores are most interesting when they work on their own as standalone compositions or when they evoke a particularly distinctive atmosphere that brings the movie back for the listener. The best ones do both, but I feel like I rarely hear either in most contemporary scores, so there are not many that I get into these days.
Soundtracks did play a significant role in my musical concept, though, particularly John Williams’ work in the late 70s and early 80s. I have a youthful memory of listening to the original Star Wars soundtrack on my parent’s LP, trying to match the pictures on the inside sleeve with the music. Furthermore, it was impossible to be a public school band student during that time and not play some of Williams’ work. I think his work stands on its own quite well, and still helps to keep the sound of the orchestra fresh to contemporary ears.
The thematic style that Williams and other composers used during this era has seemed to fall out of favor in recent times, a tendency reflected in other soundtrack genres. In the early 90s Angelo Badalamenti’s soundtrack to Twin Peaks was hugely successful in merging atmosphere with melody. Listening to this soundtrack out of context in everyday life brings back the uneasy surreality that the show created, making you want to peek around corners and talk in poorly executed backwards-masked accents. Seriously. I did it all the time.
Now run the clock forward a decade to the "theme" from one cerebral, metaphysical drama to another:
Meh. Granted, the “theme sound” from “LOST” became iconic in itself, and as a piece of soundscaping it is interesting. It doesn’t, however, make for particularly engaging listening on its own unless you have a really short attention span. Now, I certainly don't pretend to say that I could do any better, but considering but how much thought and imagination was invested in the show itself, it seems a little lackadaisical.
Alas, these days, a movie or TV “soundtrack” is usually a compilation of songs that may or may not even be in the originating work. This works well for the Showtime’s “Weeds,” but that show's producers are quite meticulous about how songs are chosen and placed. Most of the time, this format doesn't do anything for me. So, when I heard that Daft Punk was doing the soundtrack for “TRON Legacy,” I thought I might get a theme song out of them, but that was as much as I had hoped. Fitting Daft Punk’s cerebral house-style of electronica seemed to be too perfect a match to actually see light of day.
But...I have to hand it to them, Disney does have a history of cleverly using of popular music stars, particularly with their 90s animated features. Elton John is still banking on the “Lion King,” and Phil Collins extended his career by a few more years with “Tarzan.” These stars lent credibility to Disney’s films by the virtue of their top 40 identities. With Daft Punk, however, it was a significantly more compelling choice. Their identity points to a rugged cyberpunk intellectualism that coincides beautifully with the existing TRON universe. It was no stretch to see that if Daft Punk was given free reign, they would do something that would, at the very least, be appropriate and possibly interesting.
Fortunately it was true, and the resulting “TRON Legacy” soundtrack is actually quite clever and enjoyable on many levels. Wendy Carlos’ soundtrack to the original TRON blended the orchestral with the synthetic, and Daft Punk’s foray into similar styles is even more seamless than its predecessor. It is equal parts James Horner and Jean-Michel Jarre, carefully balancing the digital and orchestral with the nostalgic and innovative.
This is the closing credits track. It encapsulates the idea of soundtrack pretty well in its entirety, particularly when it opens to the orchestral part towards the end.
The soundtrack excels admirably at conveying the bombastic grandeur of a TRON film. In addition to its overall atmospheric strength, it also has compelling melodies, as well – perhaps to its detriment. When taken out of the context of the movie, the main TRON theme begins to feel a bit overused. In other words, Daft Punk is not quite poised to dethrone Williams as the king of clever thematic score composition (although some clever arranging might produce a usable concert medley). The "TRON Legacy" score may not quite stand on its own as a "work," but I think that the movie would not succeed as well as it does without it. As someone pointed out, although the movie itself is pretty good, as an extended Daft Punk video, it’s quite amazing.
Plus, that theme IS pretty memorable. And it sounds good in traffic. Go figure.