Burn Your Hits: Scott Lawson

Happy holidays, y’all!!! Having been lost in the wilderness, I’m now back in the fold and offering my first list in a few years. Sharp-eyed listeners will note the number of North Carolina artists on this list. This is explained by my wife and I having bought a house in Durham last year. Great music (and basketball) town. Come visit!

Nilufer Yanya, “midnight sun”

An insinuating slow-burn whisper of a song.

Yumi Zouma, “In The Eyes of Our Love”

Best artist from New Zealand since Flight of the Conchords.*

Caroline Polachek, “Billions”

That backing vocal stab is ridiculously infectious.

Little Quirks, “The Rain”

This song feels like really good aerial footage of a pine forest.

Men I Trust, “Billy Toppy”

I could play this song on repeat all day and never tire of it.

Madison Cunningham, “Hospital”

Every time this song comes on, my wife says “I hate Sheryl Crow.”

Alvvays, “Easy on Your Own”

Hypothesis: Juliana Hatfield is the most influential artist of the last forty years. Discuss.

Abraham Alexander, “Stay”

This is a nearly perfect song (why doesn’t he go to the high note on the third “stay”?).

Watchhouse, “New Star—Duo Version”

If you put a gun to my head, I’d have to say that Watchhouse is currently my favorite band (wise choice changing their name from “Mandolin Orange,” which was just plain stupid).

Kate Rhudy, “Ships in the Night”

You can’t be sad when Kate Rhudy is singing her sad songs.

The Mountain Goats, “Make You Suffer”

It’s hard to pick one song from Bleed Out, but this one (recorded in Durham) has the two key elements of a great TMG song: obsession and (at-least-implicit) violence.

Bill Callahan, “Coyotes”

Perhaps the most complicated simple song of all time.

Tyler Childers, “Angel Band—Hallelujah Version”

I believe.

S.G. Goodman, “Teeth Marks”

Breakup songs have come a long way since The Partridge Family.

Jake Xerxes Fussell, “Frolic”

Yes, Durham has people with names like Xerxes.

Leyla McCalla, “Dodinin”

I feel a spirit possession coming on.

Calexico, “Harness The Wind”

Arguably, every Calexico song is essentially the same song. I love that song.

PLAINS (Waxahatchee and Jess Williamson), “I Walked with You A Ways”

I cannot explain my excitement that this album (recorded in Durham) is even better than I would have imagined an album by these two would be.

First Aid Kit, “Out of My Head”

Let’s get Adele out of the house and take her to the disco.

Mary Gauthier, “Fall Apart World”

Since 1999, Mary Gauthier has been a better Lucinda Williams than Lucinda Williams has been (someone tell me why Lucinda stopped writing beautiful poetry and went with teenagedly sexual nursery rhymes instead).

Courtney Marie Andrews, “Satellite”

Her solo albums are a much better use of her talents than singing backing vocals for Jimmy Eat World.

Bonny Light Horseman, “California”

This particular song may resonate with me because, for part of the year, I’m now seeing California from afar.

The House of Love, “Light of the Morning”

Although Guy Chadwick is the only original member still present, the new album feels like old times.

Carson McHone, “Still Life”

Ceci n’est pas une pipe.

Tommy McLain, “No Tomorrows Now”

Arguably the best swamp-pop record released by an octogenarian this year.

Erin Rae (feat. Kevin Morby), “Can’t See Stars”

She actually grew up in Nashville. Who knew that was possible?

River Whyless, “Michigan Cherry”

This band is one of many reasons to go to Asheville, NC.

Secret Emchy Society, “Down to the River”

Best queer country band in Oakland.

Aoife O’Donovan, “B61”

I love LOVE her voice.

Molly Tuttle and Golden Highway, “Crooked Tree”

Like my wife, Molly Tuttle went to Palo Alto High School. But of course you knew that based on the banjos.

Government Cheese, “Younger Than I Was”

There’s nothing I could possibly say that could explain this song or affect your experience of it.

The War on Drugs (w/Lucius), “I Don’t Live Here Anymore”

When I heard that Roxy Music was releasing a new album in 2022, my first reaction was “I thought they already had.”

Phoebe Bridgers, “So Much Wine”

How fortunate are we that Elliott Smith was reincarnated as this woman?

Panda Bear, Sonic Boom “Edge of the Edge”

Hidden track from Pet Sounds.

The Beths, “Expert in a Dying Field”

Best artist from New Zealand since Yumi Zouma.*

Soccer Mommy, “Shotgun”

I love everything she does, and this song rocks. Someone should, however, tell her that shotguns don’t have bullets.

Angel Olsen, “All The Good Times”

Kill me, pedal steel, kill me dead.

Anais Mitchell, “Bright Star”

Although we, sadly, lost Nanci Griffith, Anais Mitchell channels her perfectly.

Wilco, “Falling Apart (Right Now)”

Be still my heart! Twenty-one new “country” songs by Wilco. Now I’m on the edge of my seat for Summerteeth version 2.0.

Big Thief, “Certainty”

She is one of a kind.

Sobs, “Air Guitar”

See above re Juliana Hatfield.

Beach Bunny, “Entropy”

This song really holds together.

Sunflower Bean, “Moment in the Sun”

I don’t need money. I don’t need to be cool.

Elvis Costello & The Imposters, “Magnificent Hurt”

I always knew he had a second Get Happy in him.

Freedy Johnston (w/Aimee Mann), Darlin’

Can’t a guy re-live his 1990s every once in a goddamn while?

Jamestown Revival, “Young Man”

Make mine sepia-toned, thank you.

Friday, December 25, 2020

GLW.20.11: Scott Lawson

100 SONGS: Aaron Bergstrom

GLW.20.01: Ilana Bergstrom

GLW.20.02: Curt Trnka

GLW.20.03: Remko Van Knippenberg

GLW.20.04: Jem Woodward

GLW.20.05: Erik Kristjanson

GLW.20.06: Marisa Plaice

GLW.20.07: Russell Abdo

GLW.20.08: Garrett Bukunt

GLW.20.09: Megan Swidler

GLW.20.10: Garrett Tillman

GLW.20.11: SCOTT LAWSON

GLW.20.12: Carl Anderson

GLW.20.13: Ryan Joyce

GLW.20.14: Nick Leddy

GLW.20.15: Desa Warner

***

Scott Lawson’s Best Albums of 2020

2020 was - somewhat against type - a pretty great year for music. Part of that has to be that, motionless in our Covid stymy, each of us was forced to spend a lot of time inside ourselves. As a result, it has necessarily been the most introspective and reflective year of any of our lifetimes. The combination of boredom and shitless fear will do that. Oh, and Trump.

As always, my listening habits tended this year toward women. There’s no question that there were dozens of great albums by male artists this year, including by Jason Isbell, Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, Olafur Arnalds, Perfume Genius, Thundercat, Jake Blount, Tame Impala, Andy Schauf, Ben Glover, Bill Frisell, Brian Fallon, Bruce Hornsby, Caleb Caudle, Chatham County Line, Chuck Prophet, Clem Snide, Dan Penn, Hayes Carll, Kruangbin, Marcus King, Matt Pond PA, Matt Rollings, Nada Surf, Nathaniel Rateliff, Paul Kelly, and Peter Himmelman, but it was the female artists who really shined. So, if you’ll forgive me, I’m limiting my list to a group of women who, along with my wife and daughters, made this horrible year bearable.

As is my wont, my list includes the best albums, rather than the best tracks, and they are presented in no particular order. The track referenced in each case is meant to be reflective of the album as a whole.

Soccer Mommy - Color Theory

Track: “Circle The Drain”

Sarah Jarosz - World on the Ground

Track: “Johnny”

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher

Track: “Kyoto”

Fiona Apple - Fetch the Bolt Cutters

Track: “Cosmonauts”

Waxahatchee - Saint Cloud

Track: “Can’t Do Much”

I love rock and roll Waxy, but this year she came my way, toward Americana, and I couldn’t be happier.

Kathleen Edwards - Total Freedom

Track: “Glenfern”

In which one of my favorite singer-songwriters obliquely explains why she decided to give up the music world more than a decade ago in favor of running a coffee shop in Hamilton, Ontario.

Mary Lattimore - Silver Ladders

Track: “Pine Trees”

That rarest of rarities: non-precious harp music.

Adrianne Lenker - songs

Track: “zombie girl”

Big Thief’s singer and songwriter explores more personal and somber themes - if you can imagine that - in this case, sleep paralysis, like, you know, most songs.

Ashley Ray - Pauline

Track: “Lawrence, Kansas”

Tenille Townes - The Lemonade Stand

Track: “The Most Beautiful Things”

Samantha Crain - High Horse (one of three EPs she released this year)

Track: “An Echo”

In which Roy Orbison is a woman.

Buscabulla - Regresa

Track: “El Aprieto”

Taylor Swift - folklore

Track: “august”

Combining Taylor Swift with The National? Be still my heart.

Katie Pruitt - Expectations

Track: “Expectations”

Lianne La Havas - Lianne La Havas

Track: “Can’t Fight”

HAIM - Women in Music Pt. III

Track: “Gasoline”

Cindy Cashdollar - Waltz for Abilene

Track: “Waltz for Abilene”

Anyone who, like me, plays, or has tried to play, dobro and pedal steel worships Cindy Cashdollar.

Elizabeth Cook - Aftermath

Track: “When She Comes”

The Innocence Mission - See You Tomorrow

Track: “Movie”

In which The Innocence Mission travels from 1989 to rescue 2020.

Jenny O. - New Truth

Track: “Even If I Tried”

Lily Hiatt - Walking Proof

Track: “Some Kind of Drug”

I can make a good argument for this being the album of the year.

Lori McKenna - The Balladeer

Track: “The Dream”

Lydia Loveless - Daughter

Track: “Love Is Not Enough”

Margaret Glaspy - Devotion

Track: “So Wrong It’s Right”

The Go-Go’s - Got the Beat

Track: “Club Zero”

Jane Wiedlin is a great pop songwriter.

Friday, January 8, 2016

The Return of Guest List Week: Scott's Best of 2015

[Hey, do you guys remember 2015? We do! There was some great music, and we're not done talking about it. It's the Return of Guest List Week! With Scott Lawson!]

Scott Lawson’s Best of 2015 List

As in previous years, my list is of songs representative of the best albums of the year. So, if you like any of these songs, check out the albums.

Courtney Barnett, “Depreston”—Her songwriting is like no one else’s. It’s totally mundane and completely not mundane.

Father John Misty, “The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apt.”—He is wicked. He is hilarious. He is wickedly hilarious. “Josh Tillman” is one of the meanest/funniest songs ever. It’s “Positively Fourth Street” for Millenials.

Calexico, “Falling from the Sky”—Although I have always loved this band and their mariachi horns, I love the addition of the Moog line. This is their best album yet.

Sufjan Stevens, “Fourth of July”—The first time I heard this song was (oddly) on the radio and I had to pull the car over. You’ll only appreciate this song if you’re a parent or the child of a parent. Beautiful. Sad.

J.D. McPherson, “You Must Have Met Little Caroline”—The second I heard this song, I knew that my band had to play it. It cooks.

Pops Staples, “Somebody Was Watching”—One of the great guitarists and vocalists comes back from the dead and kills it.

James McMurtry, “You Got to Me”—Just one of a dozen breathtakingly literate and heartfelt songs on an amazing record.

Kurt Vile, “Pretty Pimpin’”—The jam song of the year.

William Elliot Whitmore, “Ain’t Gone Yet”—This is a classic soul ballad. Sort of an antidote to Sufjan Stevens.

Waxahatchee, “Under a Rock”—I love everything about this song and this album. The single fact that this album and Courtney Barnett’s were released in the same year makes it a great year for music.

Great Lake Swimmers, “Zero in the City”—These guys can’t make a bad album.

John Moreland, “Cherokee”—Enjoy John Moreland while you can. He doesn’t look well—and sounds a little depressed.

Great Peacock, “Take Me to the Mountain”—They do a kind of a Head and the Heart thing, but it’s good.

Lilly Hiatt, “Too Bad”—“You think the townies even give a shit? They’re drinkin’ their dinner just to deal with it.”

The Mountain Goats, “The Legend of Chavo Guerrero”—I don’t know how it happened, but this song has become my jam. One listen and I’m coming off the top rope.

Rocky Votolato, “Let Go”—I always like singers who release songs that sound like early Ryan Adams.

Sharon Van Etten, “I Don’t Want to Let You Down”—I’m just thankful SVE released something this year.

Chris Stamey, “Where Does the Time Go?”—All these years after the dBs and Stamey is still writing great quirky pop songs.

Lee Harvey Osmond, “Hey Hey Hey”—He is more than just a great band name. (Not on Spotify, Soundcloud link below)

Jim White vs. The Packway Handle Band, “Smack Dab in a Big Tornado”—These guys would be great at a house party.

Phoebe Bridgers, “Killer”—With Kathleen Edwards retired, I was thrilled to hear this record.

Sorority Noise, “Art School Wannabe”—This is poppy, smart and sardonic.

Purity Ring, “Stillness in Woe”—Soak in the atmosphere, and the cool melodies.

Mew, “Water Slides”—Denmark’s best band.

The Weather Station, “Floodplain”—Worth listening if only because the singer sounds very much like Sandy Denny or Linda Thompson.

Faith Healer, “Again”—This is one of those languid, half-committed would-be Seventies poppy-kinda bands that I always like. If I’m being honest, they sound at least slightly like The Partridge Family fronted by Christine McVie. But better than you’d think that would be.

Will Hoge, “The Last Thing I Need”—A certain kind of country, done right.

Galactic, “Does It Really Make a Difference?”—Oh, yes, you are hearing that right: it’s Ms. Mavis on the vocals. So good.

American Aquarium, “Family Problems”—Good songwriting and good playing. A slow burn.

Desaparecidos, “Slacktivist”—The title alone sells this song. Conor Oberst’s “garage emo” project apparently almost killed him, as he ended up in the hospital and had to cancel their tour this fall.

Jason Isbell, “24 Frames”—On the wagon, Isbell has proven himself one of the best songwriters of this age (not that he was bad before). Almost makes one want to give up drinking.

Gill Landry, “Take This Body”—Landry was formerly in Old Crow Medicine Show. As this song reveals, his solo work is more introspective.

Jon Cleary, “Beg Steal or Borrow”—One of the remarkable number of excellent new- soul albums released this year. The horns, the muted bass, the sandpaper vocals. The genuine article.

Craig Finn, “Sandra from Scranton”—If Finn will be releasing solo records as good as this on those years when THS is silent, we are all winners.

Maia Sharp, “Little Bottles”—This is a nearly perfect song. I always wanted to write a song called “Little Bottles,” but she’s now done what I’d hoped to do. I don’t begrudge her, as she’s done it so well.

EL VY, “Return to the Moon”—For those of you looking for a less dour version of the The National, here you go. Almost a pop song.

Reno Bo, “Strange Maps”—I love this song, but I like it even more because, when it was released as a single, the flip side was a faithful cover of “Box of Rain.” In the Year of the Dead, one of the best Dead-related things to happen.

Andrew Combs, “Long Gone Lately”—All These Dreams was one of the best albums this year. On this song, and much of the album, he sounds like a perfect combination of Gordon Lightfoot and Roy Orbison.

The Orphan Brigade, “Pale Horse”—The album Soundtrack to a Ghost Story is a ghost story set to music, plus a cool film to accompany it.

Lindi Ortega, “Tell It Like It Is”—I will not be ignored, Dan.

Anderson East, “Devil in Me”—This guy has an amazing voice and writes really good songs. One of the best albums this year.

Dave Rawlings Machine, “Short Haired Woman Blues”—I love the presto-chango thing that Rawlings and Gillian Welch do, where one year they do a DRM album and the next they do a Gillian Welch album. Whatever they call them, they are always really good.

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, “Ballad of the Band”—The new kings of jangle pop.

Bjork, “Stonemilker”—One always has to resist the urge to wish heartache on their favorite songwriters, but Bjork’s misfortune is our gain on Vulnicura. The album reminds me a lot of her masterwork, Homogenic. Majestic.

Tame Impala, “Let It Happen”—Why does then sound so good when it sounds like now?

Beach House, “Majorette”—What a great album. I could listen to just this one syncopated arpeggio all day.

Ona, “Ides of July”—I don’t know who these guys are, but The War on Drugs didn’t release an album this year, and this’ll do.

Lucero, “The Man I Was”—He writes great songs. Don’t tell anyone, but I wish he hadn’t shredded his voice.

Daniel Romano, “The One That Got Away (Came Back Today)”—For me, Romano is this year’s Sturgill Simpson. Doing the old school stone country thing perfectly.

The Minus 5, “It’s Magenta, Man!”—Scott McCaughey is the Honey Badger.

Best Girl Athlete, “Talk”—I probably would have picked this for the band’s name alone, but they’re good too, so everybody wins.

Lord Huron, “Hurricane”—Good Lord!

Robert Pollard, “What a Man”—Guided by Voices is one of those bands I missed while they were actually around. I’m just thankful that Pollard continues to make great music. I’m still waiting for him to do that “Frozen Sissy” project with his brother, but this will do for now.

The White Buffalo, “Go The Distance”—This guy constantly surprises. In amongst his sensitive singer-songwriter musings, he proclaims “You’re not just a woman, you’re a piece of ass!” OK.

Friday, January 2, 2015

Guest List Week 2014: Scott's Best of 2014

It's the triumphant return of Guest List Week! Every day from now until I run out of lists, we'll take a look at 2014 through the eyes of people who are not me. (My list, if you missed it, is here). I'm lucky that my friends have such uniformly exquisite taste in music.

Closing out Guest List Week Two, it's Scott Lawson! Scott's 2013 Guest List is here, his 2014 Guest List is below.

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD

CLICK HERE TO ADOPT SARAH

Following is a selection, in no particular order, of song samples from albums I find to be among the best released in 2014. If anyone wants my entire list of the top 150 albums of the year, just let me know and I’ll email you.

Sharon Van Etten, Are We There (“Afraid of Nothing”)

This was the album of the year. For that matter, Sharon Van Etten’s last three albums form the best three-album stretch of any artist over the same 2010-14 period. From the first notes, these alternately soaring and intimate portraits swoop beneath the surface and immediately and mercilessly swirl the deep sands. The album as a whole sounds like a giant dare—or, perhaps more accurately, a threat. “Afraid of Nothing” is a startling opener, announcing the dramatic emotional stakes to come. It’s almost impossible to pick one song from this collection, so please listen from start to finish. Van Etten’s songwriting confidence is remarkable. The artist she most clearly resembles is Patti Smith (listen, particularly, to “Your Love Is Killing Me”), but the overall result is more approachable—albeit with caution.

Elbow, The Takeoff and Landing of Everything (“New York Morning”)

Elbow’s 2011 album, Build a Rocket Boys, was an eye-opening coming-out party for a band that had, in fact, been around for years (those in the know had thought The Seldom Seen Kid in 2008 or Cast of Thousands in 2004 should have broken them as pop stars of a U2 level). Still and all, while big in England, the band has never fully caught on here. That’s a shame. This record is utterly gorgeous—a fully-realized masterpiece of restraint and drama. Guy Garvey’s beautiful poetry is again on display, backed as always by a subtly progressive musical underpinning. The album is almost novel-like—a series of portraitures and delicate social commentaries that feels a little like Joyce or Sherwood Anderson. “New York Morning” is, to quote my wife, “the best song Peter Gabriel has done in years.” It develops slowly and dramatically, adding new rhythmic and melodic elements over a steady repeating harmonic base—like Philip Glass or Steve Reich if they hung out in British pubs—until, by the end, it’s a vast post-modern kumbaya.

Steve Gunn, Way Out Weather (“Milly’s Garden”)

Steve Gunn is a longtime sideman and journeyman guitarist who hits his stride on this record. His new 8-song album, Way Out Weather, is a beautifully-recorded amalgam of country, blues, rock and (sorta) pop. His anguished voice sounds slightly choked, as if he recorded the lead vocals in a fit of asthma. As exemplified by the track here, “Milly’s Garden,” much of the album sounds like the long-separated conjoined twin of the Stones’ Exile on Main Street. The interplay of the lead guitar, slide, bass and drums sounds so much like what oozed out of Nellecotte in 1972 that it’s almost eerie. There is a relaxed ease about this record that begs repeated listening.

Jeremy Messersmith, Heart Murmurs (“Heidi”)

Two years ago, Jeremy Messersmith’s sole “Bay Area” concert was an appearance at a 12-table family-run Thai restaurant in Davis. Sad, considering that his then-current album was arguably the best record released that year. Some justice that with his new album, Heart Murmers, he got an appearance on Letterman this year. Heart Murmurs is a fantastic slice of power and baroque pop. “Ghost” was a minor hit (very very minor, although Campbell, my 12-year-old daughter, can pick it out on the radio), but every song is a miniature masterpiece. “Heidi” is everything I want a pop song to be—romantic yearning, unrequited love, beautiful melody, and a Spector-like closing build that ends up drenched in melancholy and reverb. A master class in pop arrangement. Fantastic.

Jenny Lewis, The Voyager (“The New You”)

I’m not sure anyone would have predicted this, but what Jenny Lewis apparently needed was the production hand of everyone’s favorite rock-and-roll bad-boy genius, Ryan Adams. This album is a timeless marvel. I dare you to place it in any particular era. It seems clear that Adams learned a lot of lessons working with Glyn Johns on his 2011 album Ashes and Fire. Lewis’s The Voyager is infused with an insistent-if-idiosyncratic groove and a low-key energy, emphasizing a rock-solid rhythm section and perfectly understated vocal harmonies. On it, Lewis comes into her own, realizing the promise of her Rilo Kiley albums and the sometimes-brilliant work she did with Jenny and Johnny. Every song is good, but “The New You” is as good a place to start as any, as it highlights four key elements of the album: Lewis’s smart, sardonic lyrical imagery, a spot-on pop arrangement, lovely vocal harmonies, and Adams’s subtle jangly lead guitar playing.

Bob Mould, Beauty and Ruin (“Low Season”)

Twenty-five years into his post-Husker Du solo career, Bob Mould has hit his stride. Bolstered of late by the rhythm section of bassist Jason Narducy and drummer Jon Wurster (Superchunk/Mountain Goats), this record continues the great work of The Silver Age. Beauty and Ruin combines the melodicism and subtlety of his solo debut Workbook with the sheer electric power of the best of Sugar and early albums like Black Sheets of Rain. There’s a reason Mould is one of the godfathers of Post-Punk, and this album shows it off in spades.

The War on Drugs, Lost in the Dream (“Lost in the Dream”)

Adam Granduciel is ready to share, and share he does on this ambitious tome of a record. Song after beautiful song, this record reveals Granduciel’s melancholic world—full of hope but draped in despair. The production and engineering, by Granduciel himself, is exquisite. With the possible exception of the coda to the lovely “Under The Pressure,” which lingers like a pesky houseguest who stays a week too long, the arrangements are subtle and powerful. The guitars are spare and evocative, bathed in delays and tremolo, a pedal steel here and there for atmosphere. Hard to pick any one song here (“Eyes to the Wind,” for example, is a phenomenal piece), but “Lost in the Dream” is a good example of the craft at play here.

Hotel Lights, Girl Graffiti (“All My Asshole Friends”)

Although Hotel Lights continues in much the same vein as its previous outings, new intriguing elements are added here—strings, Mellotron, keys and banjo—and the result is a fuller realization of Darren Jessee’s quirky and often hilarious songs. “All My Asshole Friends” makes me laugh every time I hear it. It’s a song every songwriter wishes he/she’d written.

The Hold Steady, Teeth Dreams (“The Ambassador”)

After a pretty lackluster last album, THS is back on this record. Craig Finn remains one of the best lyricists on the planet, and the energy of the music here—particularly the layered guitars, which would make Bob Mould proud—finally again matches the energy and inventiveness of the tales Finn is so adept at spinning. The rock songs here truly rock, but the heart of the record is “The Ambassador,” the ballad of the year. Beautifully recorded, arranged and produced, this one song makes the album one of the best of the year. It sounds like a Denis Johnson short story set to music—desperation, aimlessness, confusion, with a vaguely sinister overlay. To properly use the term so currently misused, it is EPIC.

New Pornographers, Brill Bruisers (“Champions of Red Wine”)

I admit that I’m fonder of the power-pop version of New Pornographers than I am of the more prog-rock leanings of the last few albums, but Brill Bruisers strikes a nice balance between the two. On “Champions of Red Wine,” the Rick Wakeman-inspired keyboards and Carl Palmer drums are balanced by Neko Case’s subtle-yet-soaring vocal, the beautiful layered harmonies supporting her, and the four-to-the-measure power chord backing. Taken as a whole, the work of this band over the last ten years is pretty amazing (even if you don’t consider the solo works of the band’s members).

Jeffrey Dean Foster, The Arrow (“The Sun Will Shine Again”)

Jeffrey Dean Foster is an old-style purveyor of power pop and lush ballads—underappreciated but remarkably talented. Here, with the help of “old-school” producer Mitch Easter (of early-REM fame), he covers a lot of musical ground, but every song is marked by exquisite production, tasteful playing, and perfect arrangements. “The Sun Will Shine Again” is a good example—a return to the great sophisticated pop records that came out of the Athens scene in the early 80s. Check it out.

Gruff Rhys, American Interior (“Walk into the Wilderness”)

Gruff Rhys, formerly of Super Furry Animals, was fiddling around on ancestor.com and discovered that he is a descendant of a Welsh explorer named John Evans, who in the last decade of the 18^th century undertook a voyage across the still-untamed American continent. Rhys decided to duplicate the journey and this album is the quirky-yet-affecting result. It is the kind of record that makes you think music will survive whatever may happen to the so-called “record industry.”

Field Report, Marigolden (“Home”)

Field Report’s first album remains one of my favorite records ever. It is my standard airplane listening fare—utterly absorbing and perfectly distracting. After a long long wait, Marigolden came out this year displaying many of the same traits evident in the earlier effort, including odd enigmatic song subjects and countless curious couplets. The album rewards repeated listenings, as its highly-literate writing is not first-listen friendly. That said, “Home (Leave the Lights On)” is a pretty darn poppy song that may permeate the membrane of what passes for AOR radio (e.g., XM’s The Loft) these days. A great album—again.

Cory Branan, The No Hit Wonder (“The Only You”)

On The No Hit Wonder, Cory Branan realizes the promise of his inconsistent earlier records. This great record defies categorization. Drop the needle in one spot and it’s a stone country record. Drop it in another spot and it’s pure punk revelry. In still another it’s old-school rock. Throughout, the songwriting is excellent. On “The Only You,” Branan sings “I hear you got another boy / I hear he looks a lot like me / Did this one come with some kind of guarantee? / Well, I got me another girl and she looks like you at 23 / While she sleeps I trace the places where your tattoos used to be.” You can’t go wrong from there.

Sturgill Simpson, Metamodern Sounds in Country Music (“The Promise”)

This album was the revelation of the year. It would seem to have fallen from outer space. Simpson’s voice is startlingly like Merle Haggard’s and the production has an occasional Bradley’s Barn sensibility to it, but the lyrics are genuinely odd and not a little psychedelic. “The Promise” is arguably the oddest song on the record, as it is a very very country cover of an 80s post-New Wave song. But Simpson so owns the song that it is not even fair to call it a cover. The album is undeniably one of the best of the year, and one of the best country records in years.

The Antlers, Familiars (“Palace”)

I still haven’t recovered since, at Aaron’s recommendation, I first heard “Two” five years ago. It’s hard ever to top that song, but the collection of songs on Familiars does its best and some come pretty close, although it’s unlikely any of them will be the theme music to an Anthony Robbins seminar any time soon. The instrumentation has expanded, and the song structure is broader than on previous efforts, but the lyrical content remains deeply affecting. “Palace” is a wonder of a song. The trumpet line is somehow both mournful and hopeful, and the singing is fantastic. The song builds persistently and leaves you in a place that, although not so dark and almost a little optimistic, is not unlike the heap of despair I find myself in whenever I put “Two” on.

Real Estate, Atlas (“Talking Backwards”)

I don’t know enough about the members of Real Estate to say why, but something happened between their first two albums and their latest, Atlas. Although offering up much of the same instrumental lightness and cheery Vampire-Weekend like chiming guitars of the earlier efforts, the emotional heft of Atlas is significantly increased. Suddenly I find myself stopping along the frat row of their music and actually interested in what they’re singing about.

Frontier Ruckus, Sitcom Afterlife (“Sad Modernity”)

Although silly record industry folks use the term “Americana” to describe the band, Frontier Ruckus’s new album proves that to be utter nonsense. Although there are banjos here and there and a honky-tonk piano or two, this is primarily a power pop/jangle pop record—and a good one at that. “Sad Modernity,” with its lilting horn riff, slinky Stratocaster licks, and Philly-sound stringbed on the chorus, is a perfect example. If any of you didn’t listen to this record because of the genre label associated with this (Detroit-based!) band, toss away your preconceptions and take a listen. Good stuff.

Justin Townes Earle, Single Mothers (“White Gardenias”)

It can’t be easy to be the son of an ex-con, former heroin-addict, absentee father who also happens to be one of the most acclaimed songwriters of the last thirty years. It would seem that Justin Townes Earle has tried a number of different ways of working through whatever issues have plagued him, including a pretty significant drug problem of his own. But he seems more together now than in past years, and this album reflects both a coming-to-grips and a certain kind of artistic directedness that his prior records have occasionally lacked. This is an excellent collection of songs that ranges from obvious kiss-offs (“Single Mothers”) to swaggering guitar-driven rockers (“My Baby Drives”) to contemplative what-if ballads (“White Gardenias”). With Single Mothers, dare I say it, JTE threatens to become the songwriter his father was.

Strand of Oaks, Heal (“Goshen ‘97”)

First of all, I don’t have any idea what “Strand of Oaks” is supposed to mean (did he mean to name the band “Stand of Oaks”?). Regardless, this is a great collection of songs by Timothy Showalter. The album deftly explores a broad swath of emotional territory—and it rocks. I personally like that he refers not only to “singing Pumpkins in the mirror,” but also to listening to Sharon Van Etten on his headphones. Nice.

John Hiatt, Terms of My Surrender (“Long Time Comin’”)

John Hiatt has been one of the world’s great songwriters since the late-1970s. He has popped his head up into the world’s consciousness a few times—most notably during the period from 1987 through 1990, when Hiatt produced a set of albums (Bring The Family, Slow Turning, and Stolen Moments) that well showcased both is lyrical finesse and his various bands’ (particularly the slide work of Ry Cooder and Sonny Landreth) remarkable flexibility. He hasn’t produced a crappy album for 30 years, which is remarkable considering the subject matter he takes on. Terms of My Surrender is no exception. Low-key and casual, but at the same time harrowing and hilarious, the songs have the feel of a bunch of musical compatriots sitting around a campfire. His vocals justify the long-held critical belief that his is among the most soulful and expressive of all voices in contemporary music. This record rewards repeated listens.