Year in Review: The 10 Best Albums of 2017

When listening to any artist’s music we tend to gravitate towards their command of emotion and vulnerability before anything else, and this year that pull was stronger than ever. 2017 was an incredibly stressful year in just about every sense of the word, and yet music remained the same, fearless medium it always has been, offering solace and motivation during the times where it was needed most. These ten albums were absolutely exceptional in the way they conveyed the same passion and vulnerability that society continues to tell us time and time again to conceal, and proved that succumbing to that emotion is what truly makes us human.

10. King Krule, The Ooz

King Krule has always had an intimidating, even polarizing demeanor about him that has the ability to either completely attract or turn people off the first time they hear him – perhaps it’s the thick English accent or the audible, even seemingly tangible sneer in his voice even when he’s singing about longing love, or perhaps from the intricate, experimental compositions that shouldn’t be able to exist hand in hand with his lyrics, and The Ooz is perhaps the most experimental album Archy Marshall has ever released. It lived up to its namesake, with its often gritty, grimy compositions and visually graphic lyrics, with an added veneer of self-deprecation that sounded more indulgent than torturous this time around. Sleepy saxophones crawl out of murky lakes of bass and cricket chirps of percussion on “Logos,” silvery water swirls in whirlpools in the heavy, jazz laden ballad “Slush Puppy,” and tendrils of smoke curl around talons while he laments to himself in “Czech One,” saying “Loverboy, you drowned too quick/ you’re fading out of sight,” proving that there has always been a soft center beneath his sharp exterior, that pain still gets through. And the pain gets through various times within The Ooz, literally as well as figuratively.

photo by Geordie Wood

9. Tennis, Yours Conditionally

Tennis’s fourth full-length album Yours Conditionally had the husband-wife team sounding less like a quirky caricature of sunny guitar pop and instead more sincere, uninfluenced by outside forces, unafraid to fully embrace their real emotions. Half of Yours Conditionally was written on dry land, and the other half was composed while Moore and Riley were sailing from San Diego to the Sea of Cortez, the journey perhaps contributing to the album’s themes of bittersweet loneliness and detachment from the outside world. The combination of the stress in constantly manning a boat as well as the divine romance of being alone with your significant other on the open seas made for ten absolutely gorgeous tracks. Of course, the isolation also made for some intense soul searching on Moore’s part, and she’s even made clear that “lyrically, it is a consideration of [her] relation to the world as a woman, as an artist whose work is transformed by another’s experience of it, and the conflicting needs that arise from these intersections.” Musically, Riley provides instrumentals that act as both stabilizers and enhancers, but Moore’s lyrics and vocals provide warmth and sincere introspection – they personify a body and the heart that powers it respectively.

photo via noisey

8. Alvvays, Antisocialites

Following their signature style of hiding dark, visceral lyrics under the facade of bright, shimmering instrumentals, Alvvays’s sophomore album Antisocialites didn’t stray too far from the path they paved with their self-titled debut, but it did change their lyrical tone. Mostly gone were the narratives that touch on dependence on another’s touch; instead, the Toronto four-piece explored the ideas of separation and escapism, at the same time fleshing out their jangly, colorful sound, which resulted in a saccharine sweet, yet remarkably tenacious collection of tracks without the sugar crash. Molly Rankin and Alec O’Hanley’s songwriting skills haven’t diminished in the slightest, considering the narrative grandeur of “Saved By a Waif” or the emotional, yet self-empowering ballad “Not My Baby.” The latter as well as “Plimsoll Punks” is among the most dynamic tracks the band has ever released due to the way they transformed into something completely different halfway through or towards the bridge, proving Alvvays’s immense skill in composition that will no doubt continue to improve.

photo by Arden Wray

7. The National, Sleep Well Beast

Sometimes its hard for us to listen to The National as readily as some of the other artists we write about on this blog, mainly due to the way they make you feel, really feel, their music. Their deep lyrical narratives are repeatedly arresting, and Matt Berninger’s voice are the lock and key that places the handcuffs on your wrists, the voice that evokes their every emotion so gently and yet so fervidly at the same time. It’s easy to get too involved with the dense narratives and begin to compare them to your own life experiences, and since hearing Berninger admit “I have only two emotions/ careful fear and dead devotion” in Trouble Will Find Me I’ve always been a little scared that I’ll get called out again. That’s why we, ironically, slept on Sleep Well Beast until December, where we finally gave in and listened to “Dark Side of the Gym.” I was met with the softest I had ever heard the band, and that led to even more surprises – lead single “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness” had Berninger on a whole other vocal register, one that, while yelping in desperation, also had a glimmer of hope attached to it, one that I was pleased that I heard throughout the album. To be honest, we’re still taking our time with it, but we know that there’s still that tinge of darkness that The National has utilized over the years, but in Sleep Well Beast, it sounded far more manageable, even coveted.

photo by Graham MacIndoe

6. Sufjan Stevens, The Greatest Gift

Technically speaking, The Greatest Gift isn’t really an album at all – rather a mixture of demos, remixes, and unreleased tracks from Sufjan Stevens’s most recent album Carrie & Lowell, an absolutely album that, despite the time elapsed from when it was released, still manages to reveal something new with each listen. And yet his musical potpourri remained one of the most stunning releases of the year, proving Stevens’ unparalleled aesthetic appeal – what other artist’s music could be amplified in emotional power just by recording it on an iphone? –  as well as a specific desire for that often well concealed, vulnerable center of our souls to come alive for a moment or two before hiding it away again to face the world. Our favorite track off Carrie & Lowell, “Drawn to the Blood,” had not one, but two remixes  – the “Sufjan Stevens” remix pulsated and contracted like a beating heart, the “Fingerpicking” remix hollowing out a larger space for Stevens’ voice to reverberate freely within the walls of his guitar. The specific ways in which the remixes contributed to the tracks without completely mutilating the original sentiment was perfection – the “Helado Negro” remixes of both “Death With Dignity” and “All of Me Wants All of You” give each track more tension and heartache, while the “900X” remix of “Fourth of July” was eerie and glitchy, an otherworldly dirge, complete with distorted whispers of the afterlife whispering into your ears. As for the previously unreleased tracks, “The Hidden River of My Life” and “City of Roses,” they achieve something deeper with being released separate from its larger work, for they evoke a much different mood in its lyrics – Stevens tells us through a gorgeous menagerie of banjo in the former that “I’m a walker, I’m a drinker, Safeway shopper, thunder egg reader/ I’m biker, yeah I’m a beaver, web-foot walker, trail blazing fever,” the “yeahs” peppered in too playful for the somber affair of its predecessor. But it was “Wallowa Lake Monster” that completely stole our hearts, as it offered another otherworldly, almost transcendental narrative on the death his mother, as well as their troubled, strained relationship. Though the track exists as a continuation of the solemn nature of its larger work, its clear that this is perhaps the most solemn of all, due to Stevens’s absolute acceptance that “no oblation will bring her back,” that he has seemingly understood everything within the span of its seven minutes, as his voice gradually frays and hollows out betwixt a glitchy, cacophony of angelic wails. The arrangements and additions within The Greatest Gift did their namesake proud, and where these came from, there’s bound to be more, if Stevens will ever grace us again with the art that goes on inside his head.

photo courtesy of Asthmatic Kitty Records

5. Perfume Genius, No Shape

Mike Hadreas’s career as Perfume Genius has always been one driven by emotion. His heartbreaking narratives always came through with potent immediacy, whether it was sparse, minimal, and dark like in his debut Learning, more matured like Put Your Back N 2 It, or more experimental and passionate like in 2014’s Too Bright. Needless to say, there’s immense power in being soft and somber, two concepts that Hadreas has undoubtedly mastered throughout the years in his attempts to both constantly and brilliantly oppose a grossly ignorant society denying him the right to exist because of all the concepts he represents – homosexuality, androgyny, male vulnerability – as well as embrace his own humanity at the same time, and that has never been realized as confidently and as gorgeously as in No Shape. There was more than just a voice and piano – there was texture, depth, more freedom, in style and in spirit. His past makes his music honest, something in which to comfort himself as well as let others take comfort in him, and perhaps he owed it to his audience to give them something to truly lose themselves in, and considering the vast expanses heard in tracks like “Slip Away” and “Die 4 You,” there was definitely the opportunity to do just that. He also references his partner of eight years Alan Wyffels – who also plays in his supporting band – as well as their relationship that clearly exists as one built on mutual respect and fascination. There’s constant yearning and never ending desire, both of which sounded just a little more attainable with every track.

photo courtesy of artist/ Matador records

4. Tim Darcy, Saturday Night

Darcy played both the existential philosopher and the starving artist in one of Saturday Night’s stunners “Saint Germain” as he told us “creation is the loudest screech of escape/ which explains why mine sounds like a scream.” But as the frontman of art punk band Ought, Tim Darcy is no stranger to vulnerability or sensitivity; in fact, his lyrics and the melodies that escape his guitar seem to feed off their presence. Ought, of course, being a band party born out of protest, perfectly rides the line of being intellectual but constantly pissed off, and Darcy’s contribution is similar; Darcy’s lyrics, yelped out with a tone existing somewhere between vitriol and inquisitiveness, touch on existentialism and human nature as well as the monotony of everyday life. In Saturday Night, Darcy’s experimental debut solo album, however, he became a human conduit for emotion, and, as a result, the vulnerability appeared less like divine annoyance and more like a lovesick serenade. Obviously, the songs were much more introspective, perhaps a result of allowing ideas to flow freely rather than attach them to any specific sentiment, and there were a few overarching themes – toxic masculinity, vulnerability, gender dynamics – expressed through half-fluid, half-disjointed instrumentals and more experimental effects. But the most gorgeous part of it was the lyrics, how they most indicative of Darcy’s attempts to understand himself, and, by extension, the world in which he exists – he summed it all up in “Tall Glass of Water,” asking “if at then end of the river/there is more river/ would you dare to swim again?,” then answering, saying “surely I will stay, and I am not afraid/ I went under once, I’ll go under once again.”

3. Baths, Romaplasm

Romaplasm is quite possibly the most gorgeous album that Will Wiesenfeld has ever released as Baths. Sure, we’ll always have the fresh, playful sounds of Cerulean and the dark matter of Obsidian, but there’s something so tantalizingly human about both the unique, otherworldly sounds that make up each track, as well as Wiesenfeld’s purpose and inspiration behind the album itself. This time around, he wanted to be as self-indulgent as possible, and thus tapped into what truly gives him the most joy in life, the specific things in which his “heart lies” – books, comics, anime, video games – and yet it doesn’t sound as self-indulgent as he believes, but honest and genuine instead, considering just how unparalleled his sound really is. These passions are portrayed an brilliantly subtle manner, however, the emotion is placed on display, even though we hear things like 8-bit orchestrals, pan flutes, and bouncy, disjointed bass and percussion every now and again like we’re stuck in a never ending video game glitch. Wiesenfeld takes you around the world and back again, taking on various personas as you go: he’s a lovesick, starry-eyed passenger on an airship pining for its particularly appealing captain in the breezy fantastical “Yeoman,” an intrepid space explorer in the Cowboy Bebop-esque “Extrasolar,” where textured effects ricochet off his elastic, oxygenated voice like space debris, as well as a medieval hero scaling castle walls to win the heart of the prince inside in “Abscond,” telling him “you’re the ire of your father but the other half of me” as he wipes the sweat from his brow, taking him by the hand, asking “do you have everything?” before they escaping the castle on horseback. With such dense narratives, it only makes sense to have equally dense, complex instrumentals, and each track has that tenfold – “Abscond” has everything from the sounds of horse hooves to perfectly timed medieval violin blares,“Wilt” is deep, lush, and sensitive, a bleeding heart set to music as Wiesenfeld asks “so, who will house my sentiment?/ it comes in floods and runs me red.” And “Human Bog,” perhaps the most beautiful song Baths has ever released, is sparse and echoed, Wiesenfeld addressing his struggles with his identity in the most direct way he’s ever done. And therein lies the essence of the album – as anticon puts it, it is ultimately a “post-modern take on Romanticism,” with added emphasis on “emotion and individualism,” confronting “the gnawing chaos of life with a focus on beauty and the sublime.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. In that regard, the album absolutely beautiful in that strange, otherworldly, ethereal way that I truly think we will never be able to fully understand, much less accurately describe, and the more I think about it, the more I realize that perhaps that’s the point. Romaplasm will always remain a testament to just how rewarding it can be to truly embrace yourself as well as your passions,  – those things that truly bring you ultimate joy and grant you feelings that others are unable to create or reciprocate. Those feelings are valid, and the ability to get so caught up in them, while it might seem like a curse at times, ultimately make you human.

photo by Mario Luna

2. Fleet Foxes, Crack-Up

Robin Pecknold named Crack-Up after the F. Scott Fitzgerald essay of the same name, where the author expounds the state of being broken, evaluating everything that has happened up to the point of breaking, and ultimately having to venture back inside yourself in order to come out whole, albeit a bit shaken, on the other side. It was for this exact reason why the album wasn’t as immediately arresting as their first two albums, and for this reason why it rivals both of those works in the amount of introspection and honest emotion it offers its listener. In the years after releasing Helplessness Blues, Pecknold went back to school only to come back to music, solidifying that his purpose in the world is to tap into his own ability to understand it. In fact, Crack-Up was best when Pecknold was caught up in his own emotions and possessed by real-world nostalgia, so taken with what he’s communicating that the instrumentals all tended to blur together into euphoria: “Third of May/ Odaigahara” was nostalgic and sprawling in its narrative about his and co-founder Skye Skjelset’s friendship; “Fool’s Errand”’s piercing instrumentals simulate galloping horses or crashing waves, Pecknold’s vocals soaring and gliding in betwixt them; “On Another Ocean (January / June)” had Pecknold riddled with hesitation until it suddenly transitioned to June, where all those questions are treated with sense of self-reliance. Pecknold screams into the void amidst blossoming instrumentals that, in one of the most beautiful phrases of the album – “I won’t bleed out/ if I know me” – back to emphasizing the importance of self-indulgence in order to survive in a continuously changing society. Even if you’re fortunate enough to have never experienced your own crack-up, the search for something bigger and bolder than yourself is, for the most part, universal, and Fleet Foxes offered to give you the first push with this gorgeous album.

photo by Sean Pecknold

1. Grizzly Bear, Painted Ruins

Daniel Rossen repeats twice within Painted Ruins that “it’s chaos, but it works,” which seems to be a catch-all phrase for Grizzly Bear’s entire discography, from the quiet calamity of Yellow House to the colorful, bombastic Veckatimest, to the textured, complex Shields. And Painted Ruins was, from beginning to end, also an absolute chaotic experience to listen to, in the best way possible. Beginning with Daniel Rossen’s lurching, mesmerizing inquiries (“were you even listening”) pulling you into their fantastical world at the very beginning and ending Ed Droste’s near existential crisis during the last quarter of “Sky Took Hold,” Grizzly Bear finally placed the heart its been slowly and painfully carving out for the past thirteen years and placed it on a silver platter, handing it to us mid-beat. The amount of poetic narration and direct introspection were equal, the instrumentals ricocheting off each other as Droste and Rossen acted as a tag team vocally. “Four Cypresses” and “Systole” solidified Rossen as that ethereal, wistful voice guiding you into soft and somber reflection, Droste unearthing more of his deep, bleeding drawl in stunners like “Cut-Out” and “Three Rings.” Although the album contains the feelings of self-doubt and unease, the sense of hope and the chance for rebirth always seems to sit idly by, even sometimes embedded in the fibers of its complex instrumentals. In this, the image of the title’s painted ruins comes to mind, in both its negative and positive connotations; on one hand, the process of painting over something that has shattered seems fruitless, but on the other, it also symbolizes the act of moving on, taking into account your pain and your flaws and using them as the foundation for something even more beautiful than it was before. It’s an amazingly complex, textured album flawlessly conveying the process of decay, epiphany, and, partly, the slow, grueling process of rebirth, a project that reflects those concepts inward into the souls of its creators as well as out into the world around it.

photo by Tom Hines

Thank you so much for visiting kidwithavinyl throughout all of 2017! Here’s to more amazing music in 2018.



Year in Review: The 25 Best Songs of 2017

While 2017 was one of the absolute shittiest (yes, this is the first time we’ve cursed on here – we’re not apologizing) years on record politically, socially, and just about everything else-ly, the songs and albums that were released either in direct and indirect response or in complete indifference to it were on a completely different level of artistic ambition and passion for the delicate art form that is pure, unadulterated music. It was a distraction at the very least, an expanse to lose yourself completely and forget all the indecencies of the world at the most, and there was something for everyone, although we chose to go with the deeper, denser tracks, the ones that weren’t afraid to show emotion despite the call to remain stoic and detached due to the nature of society, to express vulnerability in every sense of the word. And, while doing best of lists this time around, I realized just how lucky I was to have started this blog when I did, because it has allowed me the chance to understand just how much music can change with the times as the years go by, as well as how much it stays the same – the twenty-five tracks presented here are honest, sincere, and gorgeous in their own respective ways, a playlist that kept us sane during a torturous whirlwind of a year.

25. Garbanotas Bosistas, “Last Summer’s Day”

The dreamy psychedelic sounds of Lithuanian band Garbanotas Bosistas were further realized with Room for You, released earlier this month. “Last Summer’s Day,” the first official single for the album, is one of the most gorgeous, a highly textured ballad devoted to the end of the daydreaming during the warm months and the embracing of new ideas. Lead vocalist Šarukas Joneikis asks the universe to bring him back to his good graces, to “bring back [his] heart, reunite with [his] mind,” but also understands that its ultimately up to him, lamenting “Lord, I really need to get moving on,” his voice lingering with something between desire and fear. The instrumentals, slow and saccharine sweet at the beginning, are perfectly in step with the vocals like a delicate waltz, only to quickly condense and explode in a cacophony of sound towards the end, a last hurrah both passionate and reverential in nature.

photo courtesy of artist

24. Peach Pit, “Tommy’s Party”

“Tommy’s Party,” the six minute closer to Peach Pit’s stunning debut Being So Normal released back in September, is perhaps the most minimal and sparse of its nine tracks, and yet, it just might be the most sincere the group has ever composed. Though highly specific in its narrative – frontman Neil Smith explaining upon release that the song is from the perspective of his roommate Tommy the night after a wild party where everyone seemed to have a bit too much to drink – the emotion in Smith’s voice amongst the bright, shimmering flourishes of guitar is what makes the track nostalgic and oddly relatable, especially if you’ve ever grown apart from one of your closest friends due to a new relationship or new life experiences. There’s hints of sadness in Smith’s voice as he tells us everything Tommy told him the morning after the party, that ultimately he was hurt that Smith brought a girl along with him and therefore ignored him the entire night. Tommy says in the last verse that when they were younger they thought that they’d only have each other to rely on, “but now she’s knowing you, just like I used to,” Smith lingering on the last two words as if introducing a painful surge of guilt, the guitar solo that follows afterwards a means to simultaneously suppress and acknowledge it.

photo by Lester Lyons-Hookham and Kelli Lane

23. St. Vincent, “Pills”

Masseduction, Annie Clark’s fifth album as St. Vincent, is something eerily close to post-pop, if we can be so bold as to even suggest that as an actual genre. There’s flashy neon colors, dramatic outfits, scripted, comic interviews, and yet the music itself has no gimmick – its pure, unadulterated St. Vincent as she has built herself up as over the years. “Pills,” not about the overarching presence of the pharmaceutical industry, but instead a brief look at a moment in Clark’s past, where she had once relied on sleeping pills. It’s also a wonderful example of the multi-faceted nature of the album as a whole, seein it feels like two songs in one. After the barrage of hallucinatory nursery rhyme choruses (“Pills to wake, pills to sleep/ Pills pills pills every day of the week”) the track comes down from the high, Clark’s voice melting into a passionate croon before a smooth sax solo. It’s reality in the style of fantasy, a surreal, out of body experience set to music.

photo by Nedda Afsari

22. Tennis, “I Miss That Feeling”

Tennis might be one of the hardest working couples in the indie music industry, as well as one of the most passionate due to the sheer amount of music they have released over the past year. While potentially any track from their fourth album Yours Conditionally could appear on this list, including the ethereal “Modern Woman” as well as the bright and cheerful “Fields of Blue,”  “I Miss That Feeling” from their more recently released EP We Can Die Happy deserves the spot, with its lush, atmospheric choral interludes as well as Alaina Moore’s clever songwriting – we still can’t get over her rhyming of “trembling” with “EKG.” But as always, the duo’s contribution is in constant balance, with Patrick Riley’s signature shimmering guitar melodies lying dormant underneath before erupting into its stunning closing solo.

photo via noisey

21. The Drums, “Heart Basel”

The Drums have always presented their albums with a certain mood in mind, and it feels like they’ve done almost everything with the classic indie sound  – their self titled debut was breezy yet complex in technique with hints of surf rock, Portamento was giddy but considerably darker in overall tone, and Encylopedia was the strange, yet oddly charming experimental outlier – and with Abysmal Thoughts, their first album in three years, it was as if all of those moods had seamlessly converged into one – even the hints of surf rock – with an added newfound aura of confidence. “Heart Basel” is somehow both breezy in composition and piercing in frontman Jonny Peirce’s vocal delivery, fighting the two separate feelings of infatuation and apprehension. He repeatedly asks a faceless, nameless entity in each chorus to “call me and tell me that you want me,” but its clear in the verses that he doesn’t really mean it, later telling him that “the tropical weather must have softened your heart,” that he “don’t make no sense.” Despite the frustration, the track still sounds bouncy and energetic, the pinpricks of guitar hopeful rather than dismal in nature.

photo by Moni Haworth

20. The xx, “On Hold”

I See You was, no doubt, the brightest xx record ever released. Each of its tracks, though still housing that signature heaviness equivalent with the trio’s sound, had an airiness about it, a glimmer of hope amongst all the despair. No other track really expressed this more than “On Hold,” also the first official single for the album. Romy Madley-Croft’s vocals hovered above her echoed guitar melodies, and even Oliver Sim’s signature deep drawl sounded just a touch lighter than usual. Though the narrative is about letting go of love (“and every time I let you leave/ I always saw you coming back to me”), the vocals, as well as the electronic compositions courtesy of the incredibly talented Jamie xx, point to something bright and hopeful, the result of learning from mistakes in life and love.

photo by Laura Jane Coulson

19. Temples, “I Wanna Be Your Mirror”

Volcano might be one of the most overlooked and underrated albums released this past year, and we found that to be an absolute travesty, considering the amount of work and passion that went into its creation. Perhaps it is because some believe Temples’ ambitious compositions emulate classic psychedelic rock just a little too perfectly, or that the complex instrumentals and often inscrutable lyrics make the Brit quartet’s music a little too much to take in all at once. However, what these critics miss out on is the passion and color that Temples place into everything they release, as well as their genuine love for the genre, and the album, to us, was a perfect continuation of everything they introduced with Sun Structures. Among the bubbly, high energy tracks, “I Wanna Be Your Mirror” was our absolute favorite off Volcano, mainly due to  the brilliant ways it melded together the energy of rock with the tenderness of a love song. Frontman James Bagshaw allows his vocals to both soar and condense, sometimes surrounded by walls of sound, but they are most stunning when they crumble down towards the chorus, accompanied only by shimmering guitar.

photo by Ed Miles

18. Rhye, “Taste”

Mike Milosh’s voice is, by far, Rhye’s best instrument. Both his control over it as well as the perfect way in which the instrumentals rush to surround him are absolutely mesmerizing, as heard in the Los Angeles duo’s debut, Woman, released back in 2013. “Taste,” one of the first teases of their upcoming album due next year, pointed to a slightly different, more experimental sound, with Milosh’s relatively deeper, yet still delicate falsetto at the center of a vortex composed of bass and synth, playful and eerie all at once. There’s also a distinct, simultaneous heaviness and playfulness, heard more in the accompanying tracks “Summer Days,” “Please,” and the most recent “Count to Five,” but it is most tantalizing here, the complex mixture of synth, metallic effects, and orchestral interludes conjuring an aura of mystery that Rhye will no doubt have fun with come next year. They’ve always been sensitive and vulnerable, but with these new tracks, they prove they can be a little dangerous as well.

photo by Dan Monick

17. Gorillaz, “Saturnz Barz”

Although Humanz was incredibly ambitious in its creation – complete with various collaborators, a lengthy tracklist, even a new plot and new art style for each fictitious band member (Murdoc’s was especially jarring – who told Jamie Hewlett to get rid of the green skin?) – we think we can all agree that it wasn’t Gorillaz’s best. However, there were moments of brilliance on the album, little melodies and earworms that seemed to linger well after the final note. “Saturnz Barz” was one that harkened back to that classic Gorillaz sound, and we also just had to include it based on how effortlessly cool it sounds. Glitchy synth and bright, metallic effects introduce distorted bass and drums, the sharp vocal delivery from Popcaan the cherry on top, the soft vocals from Damon Albarn peeking out underneath as well as towards the end another damn cherry on top of that one. It’s an absolute masterpiece of a track, proving Albarn’s continued excellence in composition. There never has, and never will be, a band that so perfectly pushes the limits of just about anything music can be – from its “band members” to what sounds go with others, to its incredibly creative music videos – and not even a so-so album can topple that.

photo courtesy of artist

16. Marika Hackman, “Boyfriend”

I’m Not Your Man was yet another incredibly overlooked and underrated album, again with no good reason behind it – Marika Hackman’s take on guitar pop was deliciously fresh and inspired, and the songwriting was impeccable – we couldn’t even decide on a favorite for this list without agonizing over the decision afterwards. Despite the soft fluidity of “Cigarette” and the stunning guitar melodies of “My Lover Cindy,” ultimately we had to go with the bouncy, energetic “Boyfriend,” a gorgeous song that isn’t what you first expect from the title. Though she admits she’s got a girl’s boyfriend “on her mind,” he isn’t the one she wants, instead confessing to stealing her away from him (“I held his girl in my hands/ She likes it ‘cause they’re softer than a man’s”). However, she doesn’t apologize, instead injecting everything from the tone of her voice to her meticulous guitar melodies with a healthy dose of sarcasm, making fun of him while commenting on how she isn’t taken as seriously. It’s the perfect introduction to her unique personality and writing style, showing that instead of feeling sorry for herself, she’ll have fun and steal your man in the process, just because she can.

photo by Pip for Dirty Hit Records

15. Tim Darcy, “Tall Glass of Water”

Ought frontman Tim Darcy took on a different persona in the the composition of his debut solo album Saturday Night, swapping out his mile-a-minute cynicisms with softer, lovesick serenades and sprawling, esoteric narratives. “Tall Glass of Water,” the first track released in anticipation for the album back in February, leans more towards indie rock in it’s heavy, balanced guitar melodies, but Darcy’s signature croon still hovers above, with his lyrics both asking and answering questions about his own abilities to muster on and understand himself as an artist (“If at the end of the river, there is more river, would you dare to swim again?” Surely I will stay, and I am not afraid / I went under once, I’ll go under once again”). These sorts of musings come complimentary with the singer/songwriter, it seems, regardless of what name or group he releases them under. However, rather than only bathe them in tension and angst, there’s also a sense of peace in his conveying himself, which makes the track all the more satisfying.

photo courtesy of artist

14. Japanese Breakfast, “Road Head”

The soft, mesmerizing guitar melody that courses through the entirety of “Road Head” was more than enough to grant it a spot on this list, as well as the fact that it was one of the many stunning tracks on Soft Sounds From Another Planet, Michelle Zauner’s sophomore album as Japanese Breakfast. It lived up to its namesake, each track expressing something otherworldly and ethereal, Zauner’s vocals its own instrument of despair and euphoria. Despite the brevity of its lyrical narrative, the emotion is still vivid and sincere, with super-sensory instrumentals – the guitar and bass the steady rolling of tires along the highway, Zauner’s voice whispering “run,” cooing towards the end, emulating the red and white flash of headlights through the dark as it soundly dissipates into the thick void of synth. It’s a surreal, almost hyper-realistic experience, and considering the short amount of time between projects, proved both Zauner’s passion and immense skill for her work.

photo by Ebru Yildiz

13. Gus Dapperton, “Miss Glum and the Pursuit of Falling”

Gus Dapperton was one of our absolute favorite musical discoveries of this past year, with his Yellow and Such EP offering up a different chunk of his quirky, yet highly intellectual writing and performing style. Working off his love of cinema, each track had a robust, full-bodied aura to them, heavy with thoughtful instrumentation and poetic, often witty and esoteric lyrics. “Miss Glum and the Pursuit of Falling” showed a more eclectic side, piecing together different techniques and moods into one cohesive track. There’s a colorful, yet muted menagerie of sounds – pinpricks and swelling flutters of synth, soft swells of melancholic guitar, a brilliant orchestral interlude that sounds as if it’s on a rocking boat, swaying from side to side – all floating underneath Dapperton’s echoed, ominous vocals. However, it is the implicit sadness evoked in the last minute of the track that makes it especially irresistible, a hotbed of sound where every delicately chosen note can combine and grow in focused succession.  

photo courtesy of artist

12. Alvvays, “Not My Baby”

There were a few tracks within Alvvays’s gorgeous sophomore album Antisocialites that sounded like two or three songs rolled in one, and “Not My Baby” was one of its best, not to mention its unapologetic narrative. Everything about it is soft yet visceral – the drums explode on impact, little flourishes of synth flutter underneath like sparks before swelling to the size of boulders. Molly Rankin’s voice changes right along with the muted, muffled instrumentals in tone, but remains static in her indifferent mood, only growing in power as the track plays on. TIt becomes especially enraptured towards the bridge, where she tells us all the things she did to get over someone from her past, trading her “rose colored shades for a wide lens,” how she used to make noise but now she “much prefers silence.” It’s a song about maturing and elevating your own perception of yourself for the better, and empowerment never sounded so saccharine sweet.

photo by Arden Wray

11. Alt-J, “In Cold Blood”

Relaxer was Alt-J’s shortest, most bizarre album yet, chock full of experimental instrumentals and insane references that, while more than anticipated due to the inspired nature of their past work, would undoubtedly take months to decipher. “In Cold Blood” was one of the most accessible of the bunch, the shallowest of the deep dive that is the three minds of its creators, but not without its individual merits that makes it that classic, albeit strange Alt-J song with an even stranger, specific narrative. “In Cold Blood” begins with a slew of binary, arresting, piercing and esoteric. While the track sounds bright and energetic, a deeper listen and brief glance at the lyrics reveals that a man has been killed during a pool party, and that same positive energy turns frantic and chaotic, the horns and glitchy keyboards mingling together in some sort of demented, violent menagerie. And yet, with it’s addictive “la-la-las,” it also sounds sunny and bright, but its ultimately its multifaceted nature that keeps us in the pool.

photo by Gabriel Green / big hassle

10. Porches, “Find Me”

Aaron Maine returned this year with news of his upcoming third album The House, the two singles shared in anticipation hinting at a project even more personal than his past work. “Find Me” had Maine foregoing instrumentals and instead used synth exclusively, stacking the varying layers on top of each other thoughtfully to create a stable, unwavering foundation for a minimal, yet highly emotional narrative that expounds the torturous nature of anxiety. Maine, through a jungle of tense, earth-shattering synth, desperately begs a faceless, nameless being not to let “it” find him. Despite his attempts to resist, “it” eventually finds him just before the chorus, and with it comes a powerful wave of bouncy, glitchy synth that washes over as Maine succumbs to the influx of thoughts and emotions. Yet his voice towers over the surge in acceptance, and he explains that he’ll go “somewhere else, where I can sink into myself,” and asks those around to watch him go, to watch him try and escape from the most unforgiving entity – himself – to attempt to find peace through internal chaos.

photo by Jason Nocito

9. King Krule, “Dum Surfer”

Archy Marshall’s sophomore album as King Krule was definitely more of a grower than his debut, but surprisingly, that ended up working in his favor. The Ooz steadily diverged from any trace of softness that showed its face now and then in ballads like “Baby Blue,” and instead embraced the deepest, darkest parts of Marshall’s already jagged, twisted musical persona, amplifying nearly every part of his aesthetic to the point where it truly became unparalleled – as if it wasn’t already before. In “Dum Surfer,” one of the highlights of the album, you can hear the signature sneer and snarl in Marshall’s voice so clearly its almost tangible, delivering a perfectly rhymed, snarky narrative about the hellish, alcohol soaked night he and his friends were in the process of enduring. He’s only accompanied by bass and guitar at the beginning, that is, until a glimmering guitar melody gradually slithers its way out of the heavy carpet of percussion, seemingly crawling into the open mouth of a saxophone that adds even more texture with every sultry blare. And yet, even Marshall can’t pull off a track that’s all grime and growl – towards the middle we get a brief moment of introspection, an indication that the zombie he portrays himself to be in the accompanying video has a heart himself.

photo by Geordie Wood

8. Cloud Castle Lake, “Twins”

We will never stop talking about, nor will we ever apologize for our unwavering love for Cloud Castle Lake, as well as their absolutely stunning track “Sync” – a track that, despite being almost three years old, continues to grow in brilliance every time we listen to it. Just when we thought nothing could rival that track in the feelings of transcendentalism and euphoria, the Dublin quartet released “Twins,” the first teaser for their upcoming debut album Malingerer, out next year. They’ve mentioned that the album will pull away from the experimental post-rock aesthetic they began with and instead lean more towards the raw complexity of jazz, and, according to the band, “juxtaposes lyrical darkness and despair with an almost euphoric catharsis.” Though that could be said for their entire discography up to this point, “Twins” seems like the true epitome of that statement, with McAuley enduring what seems like every human emotion to an incessant, brawny menagerie of bright, colorful jazz instrumentals. It’s colorful, explosive, and so wonderfully unique its easy to get lost within it, but after the first minute, you’re almost glad you are.

photo courtesy of artist

7. The National, “The System Only Dreams In Total Darkness”

Sleep Well Beast was an album that, ironically, we slept on until the beginning of December, where we finally gave into The National’s inevitable darkness and listened to lead single “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness,” originally released back in May. As you can probably imagine, one listen to the arresting, aggressive instrumentals and we immediately regretted all the time we could have spent diving deep into the vast world they’ve slowly been cultivating over the past four years. Matt Berninger’s voice is completely different from the deep drawl it took on during Trouble Will Find Me, even sometimes entering a vocal register we weren’t aware he could deliver. It’s a whirlwind beginning to end, chock full of little surprises on equal caliber with Berninger’s newfound vocal energy – Aaron Dessner’s guitar solo in the middle is smooth and calculated, an outburst of power that sounded as if it was held captive for far too long. Berninger repeats “I can’t explain it any other/ any other way,” an unapologetic tone that stays constant throughout the entire album.

photo by Graham MacIndoe

6. Sufjan Stevens, “Wallowa Lake Monster”

It seems like it has always been Sufjan Stevens’s mission to make anything painful sound beautiful beyond what is humanly possible, and that was exactly the case with “Wallowa Lake Monster” from this year’s release The Greatest Gift, the supplemental album filled with outtakes, remixes, and demos from Carrie & Lowell. The track follows the same narrative of love, loss, and regret potent within the album, offering another otherworldly, almost transcendental narrative on the death his mother, as well as their troubled, strained relationship. Both piano and voice are somber and delicate, each trying not to overshadow the other, conveying a sense of mutual respect and admiration in signature Sufjan Stevens fashion. Though the track exists as a continuation of the solemn nature of its larger work, its clear that this is perhaps the most solemn of all, due to Stevens’s absolute acceptance that “no oblation will bring her back,” that he has seemingly understood everything within the span of its seven minutes. His breathy vocals periodically rise into a beautiful falsetto during certain parts of the verse, strained and tired in response, but beautiful all the same, greeted with a cacophony of angelic wails that seem to carry a lovely weight towards the heavens.

photo courtesy of Asthmatic Kitty Records

5. Ought, “These 3 Things”

Art-punk quartet Ought surprised us all with news of their upcoming third album Room Inside the World, due out early next year. The first track from the album “These 3 Things” was noticeably different from the grit of their past repertoire, and instead leaned towards the gorgeous instability and unpredictability of post-punk, complete with synth and dulcet orchestral tones. Darcy’s voice sounded different as well, more mellifluous and elastic than ever, only occasionally returning to the brooding, acerbic tone he emulated in their past work, the unique vocals that immediately and unmistakably identified them as Ought. However, despite the stark differences in tone, “These 3 Things” stayed true to the feelings of suppressed turbulence and anxiety and instead sounded like a seamless progression for the band, an evolution that still thankfully takes advantage of their unique recording style – where it constantly sounds as if, through the separate energies of every component involved, that something large, potent, and powerful is brimming just underneath the surface, gaining energy, yet only to stay trapped, smoldering and hot to the touch, that tension more coveted and gorgeous than if it had burst.

photo courtesy of artist / merge records

4. Perfume Genius, “Slip Away”

There’s immense power in being soft and somber, two emotions that Mike Hadreas has mastered throughout the years in his attempts to both constantly and brilliantly oppose a grossly ignorant society denying him the right to exist because of all the ideas he represents – homosexuality, androgyny, male vulnerability – as well as unapologetically embrace his own merits at the same time. In “Slip Away,” Hadreas’s first release from No Shape, his fourth album as Perfume Genius, he fought back against those who denied him the basic right of humanity, and embodied the idea of love over hate, explaining to his partner that “they’ll never break the shape we take,” to “let all them voices slip away” amongst bombastic, pastel-tinged synth blossoms that exploded with each note. It’s enamored, luxurious, and yet with a wonderful message of love in both its romantic and platonic forms.

photo courtesy of artist / Matador records

3. Fleet Foxes, “Third of May/ Ōdaigahara”

Crack-Up contained some of the most gorgeous, dense, sprawling narratives ever written by Robin Pecknold, with lead single “Third of May/ Odaigahara” basically being the thesis statement for the entire album. The nine minute epic is nostalgia epitomized, a track whose first half is more for Pecknold himself than for anyone else, given the amount of breathtaking introspection about himself, his friendships, and his career – which is okay, given its energy and vivid imagery in as well as how much honesty and genuine emotion oozes out of every second. It is essentially a track detailing the close friendship of Pecknold and band co-founder Skye Skjelset, and details of him are everywhere, including the title (Skjelset’s birthday falls on May 3rd). Pecknold explained the song’s poetic narrative in full soon after it was released: “It addresses our distance in the years after touring that album, the feeling of having an unresolved, unrequited relationship that is lingering psychologically. Even if some time apart was necessary and progressive for both of us as individuals, I missed our connection, especially the one we had when we were teenagers, and the lyrics for the song grew out of that feeling.” It’s an anthem for their friendship as well as what Pecknold believes to be his personal responsibility as an artist as well as a human being, made especially clear in the second half, dramatically different from the first in tone. He practically grabs us by the collar and lectures that every day is a gift, that “life unfolds in pools of gold,” and that we “are only owed this shape if [we] make a line to hold,” that with the gift of life comes “the responsibility to transcend solipsism and offer connection beyond yourself.” When combined with the stop-and-go instrumental explosions and the echoes that Pecknold’s voice transforms into, the track showcases something close to divine intervention, given the way in which these elaborate, enamored instrumentals that rush to raise his speech up. It ends softly and sweetly with medieval sounding orchestrals that will soon make up most of the rest of the album, a nostalgic reminiscence, a respectful, mutual admiration, and a hopeful premonition rolled into one.

photo by Sean Pecknold

2. Grizzly Bear, “Three Rings”

Painted Ruins was Grizzly Bear’s most introspective album to date, filled with moments of heartache, hope, and epiphany, and lead single “Three Rings” managed to express all three to near perfection. The instrumentals at the beginning are composed of Christopher Bear’s relatively minimal, yet chunky percussions and Chris Taylor’s steady bass drone, only to later be met with a wave of techniques and styles that wash over to fill the space near the bridge, where Droste begins to question the emotions long since buried deep inside. He asks through the midst of experimental, industrial sounding guitar melodies courtesy of Daniel Rossen if this is “the way it is,” before sinking into a somber, teary-eyed “Ready, Able”-esque bridge of desperation and anguish, begging his beloved “don’t you ever leave me,” promising he can “make it better,” to supposedly make himself better too, if he can fit it in. It’s a desperate plea for acceptance that sounds more like a shout into the impenetrable void, but with an added aura of dignity in Droste’s vocal delivery that strips it of any futility that might come supplementary with such yearning. We root for him to succeed in the end, for him to become the best version of himself, although we can’t help but save a little bit of that pride for ourselves as well.

photo by Tom Hines

1. Baths, “Human Bog”

Though it was released less than two months ago, Romaplasm was one of the most gorgeous albums of the year, not to mention Baths’s most gorgeous album to date, mainly due to its genuine honesty and complex, fantastical compositions. In a similar regard, “Human Bog” was among the most stunning tracks Wiesenfeld has ever released dealing directly with personal identity, and contains a heartbreaking lyrical narrative that begins with the outside world and steadily retreats inward, the mind finding an respite within the heart – an ill respite, as we soon realize, but respite nonetheless. Wiesenfeld states his grievances of both night and day, day including seeing people “positioning pearls on younger girls who couldn’t be bothered” and “buttoning poise on younger boys avoiding their fathers,” minuscule at first glance, but holds a deeper meaning with every listen – by emphasizing the importance of outward appearance, superficial or not, the more he “conducts [himself] invisibly” due to his differences in how he chooses to spend his time, where he finds solace, who he decides to love. He cannot even find peace “by moon,” where he tells us in softer tones just how pathetic he feels he is, whispering “the lengths I go to get held onto” like a secret he’s held in for far too long. Wiesenfeld continues to admit in an increasingly fraying, porous voice between puddles of murky, treacherous synth that he’s “queer in a way that works” for whoever he’s with, but ultimately “queer in a way that’s failed [him], the instrumentals afterwards introducing soft orchestral flourishes that again allows the track to be both sad and beautiful, self-indulgent but honest. He claims before a glitchy, exasperated sigh that “everyone alive live fuller lives than me,” repeating “lie lie lie” before falling in a falsetto laden pit of self-deprecation. It’s incredibly hard to listen to if you or someone close to you, like us, has ever had these sorts of torturous feelings, feelings due to the inability to accept who they are due to the polarizing nature of society, or if you, also like us, wish nothing but peace and happiness for Wiesenfeld – but in the end, its an incredibly important message for others blessed enough to not go through these sorts of social indecencies need to understand. And, though it may hurts, it pays to stay true to yourself, to be honest with your own thoughts and feelings, because if you’re lucky, you’ll create your own sort of peace, or even, as Wiesenfeld has, art of the highest caliber.

photo by Mario Luna


Year in Review: The 10 Best Music Videos of 2017

Considering we’re a one woman operation here at kidwithavinyl (even though I tend to refer to myself as a hive mind or collective consciousness here as well as on social media for some reason), writing out end of year lists always pose itself as an arduous task. And this year, we’ve (there I go again) decided to make things even more difficult and add another category besides songs and albums: music videos. But, considering how many incredible ones there were this year, we couldn’t just ignore them. Though music videos can sometimes exist as sort of double edged sword – some can completely destroy an interpretation of a brilliant song, and some can breathe new life into an otherwise uninteresting track, confusing its purpose – the ten presented here are beautiful examples of how the right visuals can transform a song into something more substantial, carving out a space in time in order truly experience every feeling, every mood, every hidden sentiment the track has to offer. That, as well as the fact that they are nothing short of art in their own right.

10. Washed Out, “Hard To Say Goodbye” (dir. Jonathan Hodgeson)

Ernest Greene’s third album as Washed Out definitely stayed true to its name. Not only was the music delightfully mellow and charming in nature, but so were the images that accompanied every track, considering Greene’s desire to release a “visual album” as well as an auditory one this time around. Colorful and playful in tone, the use of live action, jumpy graphic designs, and hyper-realistic effects border on everything from the quirky to the unsettling, and yet, none of them feel randomly thrown together – in Mister Mellow‘s stunner, “Hard to Say Goodbye,” the movement of various images, colors, and shapes are orchestrated in such a way that they are able to perfect synchronization with both the synth and orchestral melodies as well as Greene’s gauzy vocals. The “redacted” protagonist moves through his complex world without a care, a white glowing orb in a sea of color, a ghost among people. It is also slightly reminiscent of both A-Ha’s “Take on Me” in its pacing and speed, as well as The Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby” in its cut and paste visual style – all three videos examples of reality and reverie coexisting in perfect harmony.

9. Moaning, “Don’t Go” (dir. Michael Schmelling)

New Sub Pop signees Moaning recently announced that they will release their self-titled debut early next year, releasing first official single “Don’t Go” as a teaser for their own specific brand of post punk. The accompanying video for the track is both minimal and chaotic, due to its monochromatic color scheme and sporadic cuts to the trio and friends performing various random actions – applying makeup, dancing, giving impulsive haircuts – and yet it all feels seamless, the feeling of each moment absorbed into the clash of guitars and drums. In its short duration, the video houses tenacity and humor, angst and euphoria, aggression and softness, and those contradicting energies fit incredibly well with the similar nature of post punk, where calculated unpredictability suddenly becomes entirely possible.

8. The Lemon Twigs, “I Wanna Prove To You” (dir. Nick Roney)

Last October, brothers Michael and Brian D’Addario released their debut album Do Hollywood, a stunning project made up of colorful chamber pop and psychedelic rock. After releasing the videos for “These Words” and “As Long as We’re Together” shortly afterwards, they released the video for opener “I Wanna Prove to You” at the beginning of this year, and arguably remains their best video yet, mainly due to its humorous narrative. Director Nick Roney breaks the fourth wall at the beginning, explaining that he brought the “Twigs” to his grandparents’ house in Utah to live with them in the hopes to show them what true love looks like, and it begins on a whimsical note. To his surprise, however, what follows is the brothers slowly being assimilated into the family – playing board games and having dinner, even getting baptized – and Roney slowly being cast out, the jaunty nature of the song the perfect little ironic soundtrack to it all. In the end, a broken Roney leaves with his crew, his grandparents and their new grandsons the “Twigs” waving goodbye, smirks stretched across their faces.

7. Tim Darcy, “Still Waking Up” (dir. Meg Remy)

Ought frontman Tim Darcy released his debut solo album Saturday Night in February, with tracks leaning more towards rough, coarse indie rock rather than the poetic, intellectual art punk he’s brought to life in Ought’s first two albums (with another on the way next year). While Darcy tends to embody various personas throughout the album – the intellectual protagonist, the enraptured existentialist, the hopeful cynicthe video for “Still Waking Up” shows him as what he really is underneath it all – the hopeless romantic. Directed by U.S. Girls’s Meg Remy, the video shows a lovesick Darcy standing outside a girl’s window, serenading her. After a grainy, muted interlude of various blooming flowers, it focuses on the girl’s unimpressed, empty stare, afterwards showing her slowly closing her blinds and shutting her door, leaving Darcy alone in the cold, with only his guitar to keep him warm. Maybe it’s because the lyrics to his serenade are more piercingly forthright than starry-eyed and romantic, but the implicit, heartfelt nature of them mixed with the overall simplicity of the video assure us that his effort wasn’t entirely in vain.

6. SZA, “Drew Barrymore” (dir. Dave Myers)

SZA’s debut album Ctrl was a delicate balance of aggression, sensuality, frustration, and vulnerability, and offered up a treasure trove of singles – “Love Galore” and “The Weekend” are two in particular that are sure to be played with the same level of adoration for years to come, . Yet we couldn’t stop returning to stunner “Drew Barrymore” due to its soft yet eerie instrumentals, the direct, textured vocals, and, most of all, its honest and sincere emotional transparency. The video is sentimental and playful in tone, shot in a vignette style that casts a soft, nostalgic veneer on everything she and her friends are up to in the city – partying, pretending to walk on airport conveyor belts, hanging outside laundromats, sledding –  yet its clear there’s also a sadness somewhere deep inside her, especially when it gets to the chorus, asking her lover if its “warm enough” inside her, clear that he doesn’t care about anything other than his own comfort. However, the video doesn’t show a disparaged or weakened SZA, rather the opposite – the people that care about her well-being are still there for her, the ending scene on the rooftop something all friends need to do at some point in their relationship. Meeting the actual Drew Barrymore isn’t bad either, but one thing at a time.

5. Alt-J, “3WW” (dir. Young Replicant)

The creative vision behind Alt-J’s entire discography has always been thoughtful and respectful to the people and concepts that appear within it, and the vision for their third album Relaxer was absolutely no exception. Each of their carefully crafted videos for “3WW,” “In Cold Blood,” and “Deadcrush” had its own separate plot and mood, with that signature confusion that Alt-J has trademarked over the years. “3WW” is perhaps the most ambitious of the three, with a dense, monochromatic color scheme and convoluted plot line left up to the viewer to understand. Set in Real de Catorce, Mexico, the video also features stunning villages and deserts, the backdrop to a love story that goes beyond the grave. The repetitive nature of the introductory instrumentals provide an eerie soundtrack to the village people carrying one protagonist’s coffin up into the desert, where another protagonist, the boy she fell in love with, takes on the task of carrying it the rest of the journey, fending off any predators that come his way. There are moments, like the scene with rabid wolves, where everything is in slow motion, yet still feels immediate in the way the camera pans in and around the action –  a brilliant move, considering those little bursts of adrenaline appear numerous times throughout Relaxer.

4. Japanese Breakfast, “The Body Is A Blade” (dir. Michelle Zauner)

Michelle Zauner’s sophomore album as Japanese Breakfast strayed somewhat from the bittersweet, sentimental nature of her debut Psychopomp, a beautiful project inspired by and dedicated to her late mother. Soft Sounds From Another Planet was just that – a collection of otherworldly, eccentric tracks that, thankfully, still contained that giddy, energetic Japanese Breakfast sound while at the same time experimenting with new techniques and effects. It was incredibly difficult to pick from the videos released for the album, due to “Machinist”s futuristic aesthetic and “Road Head”’s quirky narrative, but we decided on the nostalgic visuals for “The Body Is A Blade,” simply because it is the one that directly connects the debut and the sophomore albums in subject matter. Old pictures of her and her mother phase in and out while Zauner swims in a lake, climbs jagged rocks by the ocean, and traverses fields, blade in hand to cut the tall grass in her way, all with a smile on her face. The video becomes especially powerful towards the middle, where the song falls into its menagerie of shimmering synth flourishes, seeming to swell and grow in power as the child and adult Zauner repeatedly swap places on screen. It’s a surreal video in many ways, but it is also ultimately one of hope and positivity, as Zauner acknowledges her past as something that has made her stronger today.

3. Porches, “Find Me” (dir. Nicholas Harwood and Aaron Maine)

When regarding it in relation to the torturous nature of anxiety disorder, the visuals for “Find Me” – the second single from Aaron Maine’s upcoming sophomore album as Porches – become both illuminating and a touch surreal, both especially true if you or someone you love suffers from it on a daily basis. In some cases, you wouldn’t even know for sure if that person was suffering from it at all, due to the lengths they go to hide it or make it less troublesome for the people they love. Maine frantically gels his hair, shaves, brushes his teeth, and works out before he leaves, though its clear that he’d much rather “stay inside” in bed, readying himself for something that seems immensely important. He repeats, however, that he is not really going anywhere, but he can’t let “it” find him, and we see him in various places regardless – he becomes a tiny red dot in the middle of a lush green field, a lone wanderer in a dark supermarket parking lot, a static figure while two other similarly dressed characters flail around him. However, it’s clear when listening to the lyrics (“think I’ll go somewhere else where/ I can sink into myself”) that explode through the dense wave of synth and glitchy effects, that he doesn’t want to truly escape from the affliction – maybe from a deep rooted fear that it may be impossible to do so – but instead escape to a place in order to allow it to consume him for a little bit without completely inconveniencing the people around him. The cinematic quality of the video, also seen in the video for “Country,” should be noted as well, for everything from the colors to the pacing of each scene point to something done with immense care and consideration for the specific feeling they chose to evoke.

2. Perfume Genius, “Slip Away” (dir. Andrew Thomas Huang)

No Shape, Mike Hadreas’s fourth full length album as Perfume Genius, is the first in his repertoire to completely abandon the ideas of fear and remorse, instead marked with a blaze of confidence for the life he has fought for time and time again, with a stream of unapologetic love and rapturous passion coursing through each track. The gorgeous video for “Slip Away” portrays the album’s overarching theme of love over hate, as well as the intimacy of close friendship, all expressed with a menagerie of baroque and modern instrumentals as the soundtrack. Hadreas, hand in hand with a female friend, dances, runs through fields, eats handfuls of peaches, and runs from demonic creatures, immersed in a Victorian inspired fantastical world matching the track in both grandeur and hazy iridescence – the colors are incredibly vibrant and saturated, and yet still somehow muted in tone, emulating everything from a scene from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer’s Night Dream to a Grimm’s fairy tale. It’s a beautiful, unique take on love’s ability to conquer every opposing force, and Perfume Genius has made it clear that it doesn’t matter if that love is romantic or platonic – both can empower you in countless ways.

1. Fleet Foxes, “Fool’s Errand” (dir. Sean Pecknold)

Fleet Foxes only released one official music video for their stunning third full length album Crack-Up, which was odd considering the lush imagery and dense poetry expressed in each of its eleven tracks. However, the ambitious and gorgeous set up for “Fool’s Errand,” directed by Sean Pecknold (brother of frontman Robin Pecknold) was the entire reason why we decided to make this list in the first place, so maybe one was more than enough. While the scenery is absolutely breathtaking – showing everything from grassy hillsides, desert sands, dense forests, as well as a rocky shoreline with jagged cliffs that could very well be the image on the album cover itself – it is the casting, costume design, and the unique choreography that makes this video exceptional, proving what a video for such an evocative track should be. Main lead Jane-Lorna Sullivan stands along the most aggressive and unpredictable environment of the bunch, as well as the most complicated of choreography, yet her sharp, powerful gyrations are in perfect balance with the nature of her surroundings, with a stoic determination seen each time we are placed in front of her piercing blue eyes, unable to look away. Sullivan even appears to be possessed by the music just as the sky begins to grow darker, falling to the ground in defeat and resignation. The video holds such suppressed, contained power that if the lyrics, music, and visuals are all taken in equally and simultaneously, what results is something close to transcendence, where human and nature can both be evoked in each other effortlessly.


photos by Sean Pecknold, Jason Nocito, Ebru Yildiz, Shawn Brackbill

Album Review: Fleet Foxes – Crack-Up

When I got my first car, Fleet Foxes and Helplessness Blues were two of the very first albums I bought, partly a side effect of my frantic attempts to absolve myself from succumbing to the toxic abyss of pre-teen pop music that still had a hold on me judging from my music library, but mostly because I had become infatuated with the music itself. I remember I wanted something more, something better from music at that time, and that I specifically wanted physical copies to put in my car’s driver’s side pocket even though during that time it seemed to me as if everyone was still drunk on digital downloads, still in the honeymoon era of marrying technology with, considering the state of affairs today, no divorce in sight. I listened to Robin Pecknold’s honeyed, passionate vocals and his guitar’s melancholic plucks mixed with the feeling of warmth due to the sunshine filtering through the windshield and the potent smell of my old volvo’s musty seats, and soon I began to equate Fleet Foxes with the ideas of freedom and independence, both of which I had to briefly set aside the moment I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped onto the pavement. Pecknold’s commanding, intellectual songwriting and intricate, thoughtful compositions managed to rid my adolescent mind of any anguish I had compiled throughout the day, and I could focus on the road ahead of me, save for the occasional existential thought now and again.

With the gift of the car came a series of unavoidable events that come with growing older – graduation from high school, entrance into college, the required reading of what seemed like hundreds of poems and essays for my English degree, writing countless papers over the research of countless literary ideas, and finally, early graduation from college with said English degree – and afterwards, perhaps because I didn’t seize as much from the experience as I should have, I couldn’t help feeling as if I was ripped painfully down the middle, simultaneously reaching for the future while beckoning for the past to continue. Pecknold drew a similar conclusion for himself after touring for Helplessness Blues, and in turn, returned to college and took up several recreational classes to clear his mind, shortly afterwards returning to music once he realized those things didn’t help him return to a sense of peace as much as songwriting and composition did.

And now, six years after the release of Helplessness Blues and five years after sliding it into my car’s cd player throughout the stress of growing up and realizing personal responsibility, I know that if I tried to listen to Crack-Up while driving, it wouldn’t give me the same freeing feelings of independence, but hopeful wistfulness instead – Pecknold’s journey, while perhaps not able to be replicated or even fully understood by the next person, the emotions experienced throughout are at least, to some effect, relatable, and after a few trying years of my own I understand that due to living in a world so unforgiving and unfair, it seems necessary to indulge in one’s own thoughts and desires – while at the same time avoiding to some extent the pressures and recent events of society – in order to provide it with any form of worthwhile contribution. And, Crack-Up, beautifully cinematic and painfully thoughtful, might be Fleet Foxes most meaningful contribution yet.

Part of the reason why Fleet Foxes and Helplessness Blues (as well as their Sun Giant EP) were so highly regarded when they were released was due to their sheer accessibility while simultaneously expressing such intellectual and visually dense narratives; you could instantly be transported to the Blue Ridge Mountains where no one knows your name, or lost and starry-eyed on Mykonos, or be placed at the edge of the ocean with hope and wistfulness wound so tightly together you couldn’t tell which you were feeling. The music, pure indie folk at its core, evoked ‘60’s instrumentals and nostalgic tones, somehow managing to be soft and piercing in delivery. The lyrics were thoughtful, even prophetic at times, as Pecknold lamented his struggles so eloquently you’d think they were yours – and in a way, they were, for his writing addressed relatable topics, including growing older, pining after love, and the various idiosyncrasies that come with being a human being – one listen to “Montezuma” and you’ll notice they can nail all three within a few minutes.

Crack-Up, on the other hand, doesn’t seem geared towards immediately pleasing the masses, or inciting one same stirring feeling of warmth or acceptance for a packed festival crowd. Instead of being a prophetic voice, Pecknold takes the role of quiet (and at times not so quiet) observer, making his comments on the injustices of the world then stepping aside for someone of higher privilege to take command. And, when considering all that’s changed since the release of their sophomore album, listening to Crack-Up just makes sense, more if you consider the current state of affairs to be even a little bit askew, or if you find yourself pining for who you used to be. Even the title, which is taken from an F. Scott Fitzgerald essay of the same name, is a reference to the state of being broken, evaluating everything that has happened up to the point of breaking, and ultimately having to venture back inside yourself in order to come out whole, albeit shaken, on the other side.

Whether you take Pecknold himself, the world, or even your own experiences into consideration when listening is completely up to you – even just regarding Crack-Up as a purely aesthetic album filled with beautiful noise would surely be completely valid in Pecknold’s eyes – there’s that much happening all at once. Of course, there are moments where Pecknold addresses said social injustices – “Cassius, -” narrates his participation in protests following the murders of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, and “If You Want To, Keep Time on Me” as well as the title track both address post-election anxiety. All three, however, sound so incredibly heavy in terms of instrumentation and emotion and not easily able to latch on to in terms of a set melody or vocal line, solidifying his desire to not be that higher voice that guides others, and be more of a supporter of those who can do so more eloquently. Gone are the soft, colorful images of working in orchards and sitting in ragged woods – Pecknold instead places you at the edge of the jagged cliffs that appear on the album’s cover, forcing you to think rather than sing along with the melody so comfortably.

Though Pecknold has stated he doesn’t quite understand the over-analyzation of lyrics in music criticism, it’s incredibly difficult not to at least address them in Crack-Up, for they are incredibly and unbelievably beautiful – the main subject of the medieval, rustic tinged “Kept Woman” is addressed as a “rose of the oceanside,” and she’s asked to “widow [her] soul for another mile,” perhaps worn after years of being someone else’s possession. Pecknold claims she is not broken, but instead stronger than he, and, insisting he’s changed, claims they’re bound to be reconciled at some point in the future, revisiting that half-hopeful, half-wistful character once again.

Crack-Up is best, however, when Pecknold is caught up in his own emotions and possessed by real-world nostalgia, so taken with what he’s communicating that the instrumentals all tend to blur together into euphoria. “Fool’s Errand,” perhaps the cleanest and most evocative in terms of composition, are the first of the cinematic tracks, as the jolted, piercing instrumentals simulate galloping horses or crashing waves, while Pecknold’s vocals soar and glide in betwixt them. He is both enchanted by and disgusted with his desire to remain in his current state until he sees a sign, until his “sight dream” comes to mind – the chorus sang and supported instrumentally with such simultaneous chaos and frustration that it begins to sound like divine catharsis. It’s even better when the track has a moment of sudden epiphany – “On Another Ocean (January / June)” begins, as the title says, in January, with Pecknold riddled with suspicion and hesitation, then suddenly transitions to June, where all those questions are treated with sense of self-reliance where Pecknold screams into the void amidst blossoming instrumentals that, in one of the most beautiful phrases of the album – “I won’t bleed out/ if I know me” – back to emphasising the importance of self-indulgence in order to survive in a continuously changing society.

And of course, there’s the nine minute epic “Third of May / Ōdaigahara,” the track that is nostalgia epitomized, the track that is more for Pecknold himself than anyone else – and that’s okay, given just how much honesty and genuine emotion oozes out of every second. It is essentially a track detailing the close friendship of Pecknold and band co-founder Skye Skjelset, and details of him are everywhere, including the title (Skjelset’s birthday falls on May 3rd). It’s an anthem for friendship as well as personal responsibility – Pecknold is “only owed this shape if [he] makes a line to hold” – and both seem to be needed today more than ever.

Crack-Up, though not as immediately warm and inviting as its predecessors, still succeeds in evoking that sense of breathless admiration and intellectual emotion Fleet Foxes began with, as well as the feeling of being lost in time. Even if you’re fortunate enough to have never experienced your own crack-up, the search for something bigger and bolder than yourself is, for the most part, universal.



photo by Sean Pecknold

Fleet Foxes – “Fool’s Errand”

Next month, indie folk group Fleet Foxes will share their third full length album Crack-Up, their first official release since 2011’s stunning album Helplessness Blues. They’ve already shared the sprawling, masterful “Third of May / Odaigahara,” which was just as thoughtful and euphoric as everything they’ve ever created. Late last week the group shared the equally majestic second single “Fool’s Errand,” perhaps one of their most beautiful tracks to date. The instrumentals, full and robust, simulate galloping horses, while Pecknold’s enamored voice reverberates freely within them. He expresses his mistake in waiting for his “sight dream” – whether that be fulfillment, love, or some other otherworldly phenomenon – while simultaneously reveling in the time spent in limbo, explaining that he “can’t leave until the sight comes to mind.” The big, swooping instrumentals periodically dip down and settle into the shimmering chorus, like a soaring desert bird that lands into what it thinks is an oasis. Pecknold’s voice is almost prophetic, the large sound pointing towards a more thematic and stylistic approach for the new album.

Crack-Up will be released on June 16th.


photo by Sean Pecknold

Band Appreciation Friday – Fleet Foxes

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

Fleet Foxes will forever be one of my favorite indie folk bands simply because they never fail to provide me with a song for any of life’s unbearable or beautiful moments, which is a quality I definitely hold dear. They are accessible yet cryptic, melancholic yet sanguine, restrained yet always evoking a hint of hopefulness. I will always hold folk music in high regard because I believe that it has the tendency to be some of the most raw and pure sounds there are. Like I have said before, folk music, especially Fleet Foxes, has a predisposition for hiding, but I honestly think that the chase for meaning is worth it in the long run.

220px-Sun+giantFleet Foxes is fronted by lead singer and songwriter Robin Pecknold, whose outward appearance immediately gives away the whole genre of the band, which I absolutely love. This is a man who literally is his music, and it’s refreshing in a way. His parents were the type that wholeheartedly enjoyed music and understood it’s magical qualities (his father was even in a band), so he was exposed to all this amazing music at a very early age. He started Fleet Foxes with a friend many years after that and started to record demos. Many were impressed with Robin Pecknold’s songwriting, to which I would describe as being incredibly mature and evocative. As for his voice, it’s one beyond his years. The rest of the band formed soon after, and the band was born. Fleet Foxes released their debut EP Sun Giant in  2008, having only five songs. From the first track “Sun Giant,” Pecknold’s musical abilities are clearly showcased, and the songs that were released were each more impressive than the last. Fleet Foxes took aspects of many different genres, including the purity of church-choir music mixed with the riffs of classic rock, for example, or soothing interludes meshed with indie overtones. “Mykonos” is my favorite from this EP, and it’s a song I have a deep, personal connection to. There’s just something about it that yearns for the past; something about it that beckons for the times you’d rather forget but must keep near for the sake of sentimentality. It’s an enigma of a song, and it’s one that I will always hold dear to my heart. Sun Giant was an impressive start, to say the very least, and it’s brilliant uses of falsetto and reverb left the listener with a sense of longing for more.

220px-Fleet_foxesFleet Foxes then released their debut album Fleet Foxes the same year as Sun Giant, and it proved to be quite a treasure. Rather than elaborate off of the already relatively fresh EP, the folk band decided to do some sampling – namely, mix together aspects of the best of the best to create music that could be listened to by everyone – no matter your music taste, there was a song for you on this album. Yes, the range was broad: “White Winter Hymnal” and “Ragged Wood” set the stage for a whimsical, fluttery scene in which you imagine woodland animals scampering about, while “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song” quickly turns your mood dark and somber. “Your Protector” and “Blue Ridge Mountains” are one of my favorites off of this album because they erupt with an overwhelming sense of power and resilience that inspires me each time I listen to them. Again, the folk melodies are subtly nestled in between classic rock beats and smooth choral interludes, and it all turns into a new, different sound. Robin Pecknold has such an amazing grasp on his own voice, and that control really matters with passionate songs like these. Soft rhythms and folk references make Fleet Foxes a stand-alone album, one that deserves to be held with high praise.

220px-FleetFoxesHelplessness_Blues2011The Fleet Foxes trifecta was then completed with the release of their third album Helplessness Blues. This album was undeniably their most mature and focused album yet, and it clearly showed with Robin’s songwriting and the rest of the bands mellow undertones. This album has one of my absolute favorite songs of all time: the melodic, brilliant masterpiece titled “Montezuma.” The lyrics in that song are nothing sort of perfection to me, and it will always somehow leave you both inspired and crestfallen all at once. “Helplessness Blues” is the showstopper here, and it doesn’t disappoint. It brings the tension of love and loss to a new angle, and the battle between them is breathtaking. “Sim Sala Bim” is poetic and lovely, while “Lorelai” is a waltz of joy. Overall, Helplessness Blues evoked a sense of introspection and sincerity, all while portraying a more mature image.

Fleet Foxes has a different sound to me mainly because their album was the first physical CD I had bought in a very very long time. I bought both their albums and kept them both in my very first car immediately after I had gotten my license, and so they had a bit more sentimental value that way. Since then, I always attribute Fleet Foxes with a sense of independence and the feeling of being carefree for once in a very long time, which is why I am always filled with nostalgia when I listen to these beautiful songs.





Covers – Fleet Foxes’ “Electric Feel”

I really love Fleet Foxes. And I really like MGMT’s song “Electric Feel.” So, you know that whenever the two come together I’m one happy camper. Granted, this is not actually Fleet Foxes and it’s actually one guy impersonating them (which he does a damn good job of). I honestly thought it was Fleet Foxes the first time I heard it. That’s how talented this guy is. He sings all kinds of songs by all different artists in the style of Fleet Foxes and it is absolutely brilliant and incredible. I’ve been listening to his cover of “Electric Feel” on repeat all day.


Fleet Foxes – “Montezuma” (Song of the Week 2/11/2014)

Every Tuesday and Thursday, the Fox and the Sound will have a song that showcases what is right with music today.

Helplessness-Blues-Fleet-Foxes2School was cancelled today, thank the heavens. So, I’m just sitting in my room listening to music and watching band interviews on YouTube (A.K.A bliss). For today’s Song of the Week, I have chosen “Montezuma” by Fleet Foxes. I’ll probably have to do a “Band Appreciation Friday” on Fleet Foxes soon, because they are one of my favorite indie folk bands. Montezuma is possibly my favorite Fleet Foxes song, although it’s a close call between “Your Protector” and “Blue Ridge Mountains.” What really stands out in this song is the lyrics. The very first line is genius and holds a special place in my heart as being one of the most well written lines ever. The song opens with a mesmerizing guitar melody, then main singer Robin Pecknold sings (“So now I am older/ than my mother and father/ when they had their daughter/ so what does that say about me?”). This line is so meaningful. He is saying that now he’s reached an age where he should have settled down and had a child himself, he realizes that he’s no longer a child, and, more importantly, that he’s still alone. It explains that at this point, he doesn’t know where he is going or what he is doing with his life and starts to do some serious introspection (“oh man what I used to be/ oh man oh my oh me”). His voice is simply perfect, and his lyrics are pure poetry. They really spoke to me and continues to. It’s definitely one of my better songs to play on the guitar, and to sing it really takes stress away. Fleet Foxes are amazing, and I will talk more about them and why they are so incredible in perhaps a week or two. “Montezuma” is from Fleet Foxes’ third album, Helplessness Blues.