We'll continue today with our top 25 countdown with albums #15 through #11.
#15: Destroyer - Kaputt
Dan Bejar is somewhat off-putting at times. The super-literate and carving intellectual drive of his work with Destroyer and The New Pornographers, mixed with his Gordon Gano-like vocal renditions were a constant confinement to me; respectful of the craft and ethic, but disappointed often in the execution. As it is, Kaputt, Destroyer and Bejar's best output yet, kinda curves the perennial temperament. The free-flowing jazz inspirations aren't terrifically overwhelming (good), and play a common chord in the back on songs like "Suicide Demo for Kara Walker," placated by Bejar's indelible song-writing, that finds its place comfortably. And for all the profoundly intellectual moments that tended to make or brake the Bejar status quo, they stand firmly on Kaputt. Pitchfork found a word for the album, "redeeming," that in a very strong sense, fits well. If anything, after all my biased notions, I'm underrating it.
#14: Smith Westerns - Dye It Blonde
Dye It Blonde could be effortlessly tagged as a less-egotistical glam rock staple of the early 70s, with all its wistful keyboard back-pulls and single-string guitar riffs, and it'd probably be remembered much more fondly then than it would be now. That isn't to say that Smith Westerns self-titled debut is anything like Dye It Blonde. There's confounding maturity and technical prowess that allows itself to be taken seriously, even if the songs come out like dripping call-outs to love and all its nurtured positives. It's a proud leap from the band's 2009 debut, but still comes out fun.
#13: The Antlers - Burst Apart
Two years ago, The Antlers emerged out of the woods with Hospice, a charming, if not too delicate of an album. Lead-singer Pete Silberman's vocal were swept in downplayed and underwhelming pieces, which tends to work fine if there's little directive promise for much else. Burst Apart, however, allows Silberman to show that his high falsetto's can blend and carve a much more grandiose effigy in front of sparkling spirals of slow, decadent outputs. I'm not calling this anything close to stadium-esque profoundness, but the extra effort the Antlers push through is welcomed.
#12: Kurt Vile - Smoke Ring For My Halo
Philadelphia-native Kurt Vile rarely sounds like he's trying, whether he wants to or not. The majority of the tracks on Smoke Ring For My Halo and the rest of the Vile catalog are essentially easy progressions of the prolific singer-songwriter; loneliness, emptiness, feelings of more, etc. It's a deceptive measure of people like him, who aim not to show their tirelessness, even if their reputation says the opposite. Smoke Ring For My Halo is full of tracks that sound carelessly stacked, even behind cleverly displayed layers of musical prowess. And for musicians, maybe that's the correct mindset: work, work, work until getting it right just comes naturally.
#11: Girls - Father, Son, Holy Ghost
How can a band like Girls that in all rights doesn't sound like they're doing anything terribly new, also sound like they're completely in their own world? Father, Son, Holy Ghost are borrowed pieces: surf rock, 60s pop, West coast garage rock, mixed with tempered sides of psychedelia and soul, that can be found anywhere in pop history, but really it's Christopher Owens that makes it stick. His well-documented background as an effeminate singer-songwriter raised in a cult (true) make him endearing as if he were some kind of well-read movie character. Maybe that's why Father, Son, Holy Ghost continues to surprise, replay after replay. You figure at this point you'd know Owens, but he surprises you with catchy, elaborate rock tracks like "Die" and you forget everything you suspect about what's next. Some albums are good because they make sense; their structure, songwriting, and progression. But here, you aren't supposed to suspect much, and it creeps forward even better that way.
We'll continue tomorrow with albums #10 - #6 ...
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