Dr. Spin's Best of 2017: Part 1

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.

13. Dungen - Allas Sak: Allas Sak has reinvigorated my respect for Dungen. There may be a journey into their back catalog in store sometime in the near future.

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.

Mind the Gap: A Post-Summer Roundup

It’s probably not a surprise that a significant gap has emerged since I posted celebrating the birth of O, our third child.  My output became similarly sparse after EJ was born last year, but I was hoping that my discovery of voice-to-text dictation would have granted me a little more productivity.  I admit, though, that I spent what little quiet time I had watching and speculating on the new Twin Peaks season, and my thoughts on that experience could be its own post, if not its own blog.

So in this time, of course, much has happened.  Little O is fine, and much cheerier than his colicky older sister was at this same stage in her development.  These days, however, EJ is a super happy-go-lucky kid and is part-timing in the toddler program at a local Montessori school.  P has finally settled into a life in Denton, starting first grade at the local neighborhood school which is literally around the corner from our house.  

Marching season has started, so my days start early and end late. I still have not given up on reinventing Ethnos and pursuing a musical outlet for myself, but this endeavor is on hold, at least until the end of marching season.  I am, however, still trying to make it to the dojo a couple of times a week to train and teach. Additionally, my wife has begun pursuing a long-time goal of attaining her PhD, and I am very proud of her being brave enough to step into this endeavor. If all this sounds busy and demanding, it is, but we have surrounded ourselves with an interesting and diverse village of people to act as extra hands when needed.

Although I am usually apologetic when the busyness of life causes gaps in my blogging to arise, this time I feel more forgiving of myself. Still, it is also important to me to capture and document this time and its associated music.  This summary is particularly long this time because it includes the music I purchased with my Father’s Day gift cards, way back around the time when Little O was born, so push play below, read on, and minimize to hear the whole list.

Xylorous White - Goats: An interesting intercultural lute/drumset project that ended up being far more improvisational than I had anticipated.  The jury is still out on whether White’s restless drumming is a boon or a bane.

Roger Waters - Is This the World We Really Want?: Despite being largely up to his old tricks, Waters makes a surprisingly respectable stab at remaining relevant. Ever tenacious, he downplays melody for subversive lyrics and bleak soundscapes.

Rupert Gregson-Williams  - Wonder Woman OST:  A few years ago, I adopted Paledouris’ theme from Conan the Barbarian Cas Wonder Woman’s theme song.  Gregson-Williams’ score for the 2017 movie features the same melodic strengths and warlike drumming that inspired that choice.

Talking Heads - Speaking in Tongues: While I experience most Talking Heads albums relatively free of nostalgia, Burning Down the House is very securely set in my middle school years.  Although I think it's safe to say that I would not have connected with  the album back then, I find it quite an enjoyable listen now.

Anathema - The Optimist: This album’s predecessor was a strong favorite in 2015.  There is a lot to like on The Optimist, but it hasn’t gripped me in nearly the same way. 

Tim Bowness - Lost in the Ghost Light:  Stylistically, Tim Bowness owes a lot to mid-period Genesis, and his penchant for storytelling and syrupy voice brings to mind Fish’s softer moments.  There is a sense, however, that his melodic approach is limited.

TV Eyes: A great send-up of 80’s era synth-pop by Jellyfish alumni Jason Falkner and Roger Joseph Manning Jr.  This American release has a few remixes on the album, however, that bring the whole experience down a notch.

Accordo del Contrari - Violatto Intatto: This band is nostalgic towards Italian progressive rock in the same way that Tame Impala is to 70’s psychedelia and M83 is to 80s new romanticism.  Violatto Intatto is a nostalgic distillation of all that was great about that very distinct branch of prog rock.

The Fleet Foxes - Crack-Up: While Crack-Up undoubtedly recaptures the open ambience that The Fleet Foxes have come to be known for, it also broadens the band’s scope into nonstandard songwriting.  Its an album that rewards patience and attention.

Tom Waits - Swordfishtrombones: Every few years, I get another Tom Waits album, and rarely am I disappointed.  He was, and is, a musical mad scientist that can take the ugliest sounds and make them beautiful.

Contact - Zero Moment: An amazing synth-rock project that features the drummer from 2016 favorite Zombi.  The melodic material on Zero Moment is incredibly strong and executed with no small amount of intensity.

The Amazing - Gentle Stream:  This album also has a noticeable nostalgic sound, no surprise due to the presence of the guitarist from Dungen.  The Amazing is more straightforward than Dungen, but are no less entertaining.  

Shearwater - Jet Plane and Oxbow: This album came on the tails of a top twenty album from 2013.  Again, it hits a lot of the same marks but falls short of recapturing what I loved about its predecessor.

There is much more to say about these albums, but as is usually the case when I get backed up, it is hard to know where to start. If any of my readership is interested in seeing a more focused look at any of the above albums, please let me know.

Seryn: More Than A Band of Foxes

I put This Is Where We Are on my list early this year after countless ringing endorsements from many people whose musical opinions I respect, but I just never quite got around to ordering it. It’s not that I didn’t try - I looked into Seryn on a few occasions, and there was nothing about them that I didn’t like, but, despite having some common ground with the Fleet Foxes (whose album Helplessness Blues was my top album of 2011), they didn’t quite hook me into taking the plunge. Still, advocates of the band were unrelenting. Finally, one devoted fan, who is an ex-student and fellow blogger, was insistent enough to send me a copy of This Is Where We Are through the mail. You can’t get much more fervent backing than that.



So, OK, I get it already. Especially as a relatively young, local Denton group just starting to get their work more widely recognized, Seryn is impressively mature.  When I was involved in the Denton “scene” in the late 90s, it was not much more than an appendage of the Dallas live music scene, which circled greedily around the promising success of Deep Blue Something and Tripping Daisy. More and more, I am surprised to see adventurous Denton bands getting national and international attention through current information sharing conduits.  Unlike the pop feeding frenzy that preceded it, the current Denton scene seems more artistically motivated.

As an example, there is a lot more to Seryn than is superficially apparent. At first, I thought that they neatly occupied a space right between Fleet Foxes and the Band of Horses, so I jokingly referred to them as the Band of Foxes.  In the long run, however, this easy and prematurely flippant categorization did not do justice to the way the album evolved in my experience. The tone of This is Where We Are is a bit restrained on the surface, but peeling back the layers reveals a vibrant, radiating, creative center.  Although I still think that they have a certain Appalachian tone that overlaps the Fleet Foxes’ style, there is also Peter Gabrielesque transcendentalism that lifts their work above being merely “folk.”



Also, it does not take much insight to see that Fleet Foxes is centered on the inestimable talents of Robin Pecknold. In comparison, Seryn feels more like a collaborative effort. The band's identity is generated by the synergistic interactions of the band's members rather than a singular musician’s presence. Seryn does, indeed, have some standout performers, but their individual musicality focuses purely on enriching the moments that arise in their music as it happens

Obviously, although I do get a kick out of discovering good music out of the widely available options, I find it much more gratifying to spread the word on local artists with a smaller visibility profile. Seryn has their own distinctive approach - one that I think that is artistically gratifying but also harbors the potential to be widely popular. By potential, I don't mean to imply that sometime in the future, they might release a great album. Seryn has an audience out there right now: This is Where We Are would not be out-of-place playing overhead during your daily Starbuck's constitutional, a medium that by itself probably reaches more people a day than current commercial radio.

Album of the Year: "Helplessness Blues" and Parenthood

Although I have always been open to parenthood, for the majority of my adult life I have experienced pretty significant anxiety about the reality of being a parent.  For the past couple of years, however, undoubtedly influenced by my impending 40th birthday, I increasingly felt the desire to don that mantle.  So, when, a little over a year ago, in the parking lot of a Starbucks, my wife handed me a container of Sunny Bears with “For new Dads only” scrawled across the top in Sharpie marker, I found that there was actually very little fear.  There was, I think, the nervousness that often comes with the unknown, but overall, accepting that container of candies felt quite natural.

Within a few months, my wife and I were sharing the seemingly endless succession of awkward moments that arise in birthing classes. Although these classes are meant to prepare new parents for what is to come, they do not do much to relieve apprehensions. After several hours of video footage that very directly addressed the realities of natural child birth, the tension of the class was palpable. As usual, my mind often drifted into song as a coping mechanism, and repeatedly, it was these lyrics that came up: 

So now I am older,
Than my mother and father,
When they had their daughter,
Now what does that say about me?

Oh how could I dream of,
Such a selfless and true love?
Could I wash my hands of
Just looking out for me?

Oh man what I used to be
Oh man oh my oh me

This is the opening lines to my album of the year, the Fleet Foxes’ Helplessness Blues. The track, Montezuma, is a rumination on a lonely life as it ponders its end.



The song asks questions that strongly resonated with me. My parents were a little over half my current age when I came into their lives, and I was old enough to clearly remember when my father turned 40.  My daughter will never know how I was in my 20s and 30s.  This divergence from my parent's path was generated in a very egocentric worldview that, up until about three years ago, was so deeply embedded in my everyday existence that it was impossible for me to see.  In fact, if you knew me during or before that time, I probably owe you an apology for some reason or another whether you know it or not.  I was, in short, not the best version of me.  If not for making some serious life changes, I would most likely still be in that place, and I probably would not be looking forward to fatherhood with the same kind of joyful anticipation that I enjoyed earlier this year.

Although Montezuma as a whole does not directly map onto my experience, the song’s overall message is open-ended enough to shed light on an introspective dialogue that was familiar to me this year.  Throughout Helplessness Blues, lead songsmith Robin Pecknold pens lyrics that are perhaps enlightened, but not enlightened in the transcendental sense. Instead, they examine a mythical realism grounded in the everyday, and are crafted to ask more questions than suggest answers.  As a result, the album's haunting qualities have a benevolent overtone, as if the spirits brought wisdom, comfort and insight rather than fear and distress.

Despite all of the competition, Helplessness Blues ended up being my album of the year, not just because it is full of amazing songs and exquisite musicianship (although it is), but because many of those songs opened up powerful moments of reflection like this one. In 2011, this sort of self-examination was both humbling and gratifying. I am very thankful for the birth of my daughter, and am grateful that I am in a place where I can appreciate the mindblowing reality of her existence.

The Beach Boys of Winter: The Fleet Foxes

The move to Austin in 2008 was a particularly traumatic one.  On the weekdays I was commuting from Carrollton to Denton for work and school and to Austin on the weekends to visit my soon-to-be wife.  At the same time, I was selling a house during a panicked recession, writing my thesis, and generally coming to terms with myself.  I despise the feeling of chaos that moving brings, but in this particular case, I think that being unseated in such a way gave me the opportunity to be more contemplative and reflective than usual. 

Both in the car and in the nearly empty house, The Fleet Foxes was playing non-stop during this introspective end of the "Carrollton Period."  There was a buzz surrounding this band online when their debut album was released, but it was this video that sold me.

White Winter Hymnal is immediately haunting and engaging, characteristics that spill over into the entirety of Fleet Foxes.  These qualities are very, very difficult to describe, and it was a struggle to write a review on Amazon that really captured how I was experiencing the album's nearly instantaneous nostalgia.  Another reviewer, however, simply described the Fleet Foxes as “The Beach Boys of Winter,” which has stuck for me ever since (can't take credit for it, though).

Although the Beach Boys metaphor is generally appropriate in regards to the obvious vocal prowess of the Fleet Foxes, I also interpret it as a specific reference to Pet Sounds.  There is a complex history and many assumptions surrounding this album, but in short, it was Brian Wilson at his creative and expressive peak.  It is a singularly unique entry in the Beach Boys canon, and even if you normally don’t like the band, it is difficult not to at least appreciate its childlike exuberance.

Granted, the similarity between the two albums is not measureable.  Undoubtedly there is a lot about the Fleet Foxes that says “campfire” rather than “surf’s up.”  There is something passionate and intimate that both albums capture, however, that is, to me, perhaps inexplicable but intuitively palpable.   

 
Earlier this month, the Fleet Foxes’ second album, Helplessness Blues, was released, and is becoming the soundtrack to a current, but far less stressful, move.  This recent effort is perhaps a bit more experimental and opaque than their debut.  It does not, however, eschew the evocative ambience that I associate with the band.

For the sake of accessibility, I might suggest their debut as an introduction.  If you are already a fan, however, I think that Helplessness Blues will similarly capture your interest, and it will probably stand on its own quite well as a starting point.