Tag: albums of the year 2015

11: Grimes: Art Angels

~ Lex Leeson ~ 1 Comment

Claire Boucher is an absolute motherfucker, releasing her fourth album as Grimes in early November and forcing me to attempt to force feed the work into my brain, employing young Victorian urchins to shovel piles of it into my ears for 20 hours a day as I considered whether the work deserved a place on this list, the most desired attainment in the business.

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…and it absolutely does, ‘Art Angels’ is an absolute masterpiece that I imagine will be regarded in the future as one of 2015’s most significant albums, maybe one of the decade’s. I have a feeling that if this were released in June it would be number 1 on this list, it demands infinitely more time poured into it than I have managed. Grimes possesses the astonishing ability to shine as both an experimental avant-garde art project and also retain the ability to craft absolutely irrefutable perfect pop. There are whole dissertations to be written on the way Grimes subverts and exposes sexist ideas and assumptions of females in pop music, but I feel after less than a month clutching this album close to my breast has afforded me time ‘only’ to marvel at the astonishing production, incredible ambition, and the songs themselves which are…

                 so…

                           fucking…

                                          good…

In the future Grimes will be regarded as maybe the most critical and substantial artist of the 2010s, so you may as well get on board now.

‘Fun’ Fact: The online music magazine Pitchfork once described Grimes as a ‘human Tumblr’. Honestly, we should organise a boycott or something…

‘Human Tumblr’? What does that even mean?? I have no fucking idea, to be honest I’m not 100% sure what ‘Tumblr’ is. I’m also struggling to recommend just one song here, the album is just hit after hit, maybe just start with the single ‘Flesh Without Blood‘

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12: Young Fathers: White Men Are Black Men Too

~ Lex Leeson ~ 3 Comments

Young Fathers have very quickly become one of British music’s stand out acts, mainly because of the fact they simply don’t sound remotely similar to anyone else (though there are occasional flashes of TV On the Radio). They’re usually (and lazily) referred to as rap, but their songs often lack any hip-hop production and the lyrics are delivered in a style more easily comparable to some sort of perverted gospel or even peculiar terrace chants. Their second album comes less than a year after their Mercury Prize winning debut and so predictably lacks some of that record’s impact, it’s more concerned with expertly honing their heavily individual sound right now rather than ripping everything up starting again. There’s a little more of a rock influence here than on their debut, while as the title suggests there are lyrics slightly more concerned with racial politics and identity (‘I’m tired of playing the good black/I’m tired of having to hold back…I’m tired of blaming the white man/His indiscretion don’t betray him…Some white men are black men too/Nigger to them, gentlemen to you’) but mostly it’s more about evolving an already spectacular sound before any serious ideas of revolution. Still, if they agree to release an album a year of a quality that’s this stunning then I’m definitely on board.

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‘Fun’ Fact: Young Fathers member Alloysious Massaquoi is the enemy of spellcheckers everywhere

Is it actually better than the first though? Whisper it, but it might be, though it could never possibly match the shock to the system when you first hear their music, as fantastic as tracks like ‘Rain or Shine‘ are

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13: Dan Deacon: Gliss Riffer

~ Lex Leeson ~ 2 Comments

Even if you didn’t love Deacon’s fourth album it’d still snuggle up close to you and embrace you in a strong bear hug you couldn’t escape from, it’d still brush your face tenderly and tell you how beautiful your eyes are, it’d listen to your opinion on why you don’t love it and still pay for your bar bill while you weren’t looking. Luckily this is all deeply hypothetical because there’s absolutely no freaking way on God damn Earth that you wouldn’t fucking adore this album. It’s batshit mental, but in a gloriously controlled and deliberate way, utilising such a rich musical palate that letting it wash through you is the lushest thing you’ve done to your ears since you decided to attach kittens to your ear buds when you last cleaned them out. DD seems to have discovered a special kingdom underneath the synth stabs and reverb that is sheer splendour to spend 44 minutes prancing around inside. He obviously can’t decide whether to be a portrayer of dance bangers or throw out arty minimalism more beloved by the intellectuals and so simply tries to do both, some of the songs here sound simply like the two approaches played on top of each other and it works magnificently. An utterly life-affirming experience.

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‘Fun’ Fact: Deacon’s initials- DD- are also the name of a rather large bra-size

Wh… Really? That’s your fact? Ah come on, while listening to ‘Feel the Lightning‘ it’s impossible for either me to think straight or for you to stay angry

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14: Kendrick Lamarr: To Pimp a Butterfly

~ Lex Leeson ~ 8 Comments

Jesus, where do you even start with this…?

I’m probably going to write 200 or so words here about Lamarr’s third album, but it’d be ridiculous to even attempt to dip my toes into the themes, the lyrics and the general commentary offered by a set that is so layered, complex and intelligent that it can be almost intimidating. I’d need far more space to even scratch the surface of this record, I’d need twenty big books to put them in, twenty pretty girls to carry them down and twenty deep holes to bury them in. This is an album that opens with a track that turns the story of Wesley Snipe’s incarceration on tax evasion charges into an operatic parable on how poor black males are never schooled in correct management of money and celebrity, and then never lets up. Bizarrely even at 78 minutes it doesn’t feel overlong. ‘To Pimp A Butterfly’ is an insanely ambitious album, at once loose and intense, funny and deeply serious, unashamedly theatrical in places and absolutely chaotic throughout. If there’s one complaint it’s that Lamarr’s lyrics seem to often to be concerned with inner-improvement and self-belief rather than the angry commentary on wider society exhibited by D’Angelo (‘i’ sounded disappointingly prosaic as a lead single), but that’s just an idiotic complaint by a dumb guy who hasn’t delved near far enough into the record: if you were literally going to listen to one album this year it’d be this, as 365 bouts of 24 hour days would still feel like not enough time spent unravelling its many layers.

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‘Fun’ Fact: ‘How Much a Dollar Cost’ is the second best song to sample Radiohead’s ‘Pyramid Song‘ ever, after Plan B’s original version of ‘Missing Links‘

OK, I’ll dedicate some time to this album, though certainly not an entire year, in fact right now I can only really spare three minutes and 55 seconds: Enough time to take a swing at ‘King Kunta‘ then. Coincidentally, ‘King Kunta’ was my nickname at school

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15: Public Service Broadcasting: The Race For Space

~ Lex Leeson ~ 1 Comment

PSB’s debut in 2013 was an extremely diverting collection, though their technique of laying the sound of old public information and propaganda films over jaunty dance music couldn’t fail to mark them out as almost a borderline novelty act who were unlikely to have much of a career ahead of them. On their second album though they have chosen to focus entirely on the space missions that took place between 1957 and 72, and in doing so have made the unlikely jump to being altogether unique and rather important musical documentarians. It isn’t just the samples of 60s news reports, Kennedy’s speeches and Neil Armstrong interstellar responses that male this album so fantastic though, the music itself is an inspired and affective soundtrack that can call to mind Kraftwerk one minute, Daft Punk the next, and The Duratti Column after that. It expertly captures the excitement, tragedy, suspense and downright joy of the space missions and is so richly evocative of the thrill of the time. It makes you deeply excited to hear what they try next, though considering they have now covered up to 1972 I did contact the band and suggest they should next attempt to soundtrack humanity’s next monumental recording: ‘1994’s ‘Wibbling Rivalries‘. The band haven’t replied to my email yet.

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‘Fun’ Fact: We haven’t been to the moon since 1972 because as head of NASA Charles Bolden explained ‘It’s fucking shit up there’ and that he ‘can’t be arsed’

Great, ‘musical documentarians’, can you really imagine me dancing to that when I go out to Staley Vegas on Friday? You fool, have you not seen the video to ‘Gagarin‘?

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16: D’Angelo and the Vanguard: Black Messiah

~ Lex Leeson ~ 1 Comment

Despite the soggy biscuit currently being passed around the media in excitement over the new Adele record, no album released over the past 12 months felt close to being bigger than the third from Michael Archer (how disappointed are you to find out ‘D’Angelo’ isn’t his real name?). D’Angelo’s exploits since the release of his last album ‘Voodoo’ back in in 2000 were already at urban legend status, with sightings of him in the proceeding decade and a half usually limited to mugshots of an overweight and ’emotional’ man on his latest drug, alcohol or solicitation arrest. Nonetheless Archer was planning in secret to release a new album with his new backing band The Vanguards in 2015, only when he saw how the situation playing out in Ferguson, Missouri throughout the end of 2014 sadly mirrored many of his new music’s political themes (‘All we wanted was a chance to talk/ Instead we only got outlined in chalk‘) the album was rush released in December 2014 to become the biggest surprise release since U2 went from door to door lighting bottles of their own farts and smashing them through people’s windows. With such a complex and intriguing back story it would almost be understandable if the actual music was something of an afterthought, but ‘Black Messiah’ has been so fervently and unanimously received as a masterpiece that some people will if anything be shocked and appalled that it placed so low here. D’Angelo is obviously of the opinion that if it ain’t broke then you should absolutely fix it, here he refuses to just settle for his previous rock/R’n’B style and instead touches on many genres in the fruitful way Prince used to, ‘Black Messiah’ is a masterful 56 minutes of controlled disorder and disciplined chaos. Perhaps the true highlights are slightly too sparse, but it’s still brilliant to hear not only a top drawer musician working at the top of their game but also an artist attempting to insert themselves into modern debate and provide soundtrack.

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‘Fun’ Fact: The game ‘soggy biscuit’ is actually called ‘limp biscuit’ in America (though without rugby you wonder how often they have the chance to play), hence the band’s name. We should never be allowed to forget just how awful that band were on every level.

It’s a ‘masterpiece’ yet the highlights are ‘sparse’?? It’s all relative old chum, while tracks like ‘Ain’t That Easy‘ stand out explicitly, the ‘lesser’ tracks are still far better than almost anything else you’re likely to hear.

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17: Björk: Vulnicura

~ Lex Leeson ~ 1 Comment

How much praise does Björk get, really? Even if she was canonised as a saint, even if Wednesdays were officially renamed Björkday in her honour, even if the queen read out her Christmas message wearing the swan dress that Björk wore to the 2001 Oscars, even if it were decreed that your first born child had to be thrown into the Icelandic volcano she lives in so she can feed upon it and give her blessings that the crops shall grow this year, even if we did all that I feel it wouldn’t be enough. Compare the respect and reverence meted out to Keith Richards, where every time he farts in the bath it’s reported as major news and a turning point in music itself, yet Björk- who is legitimately one of the best things ever!!- is looked upon as an elfin oddball who doesn’t do big enough choruses any more. Fuck them all: ‘Vulnicura’ (a portmanteau of the Latin words ‘vulnus’ and ‘cura’, or a ‘cure for wounds’, perhaps as close as Björk gets to a pun) is an absolutely stunning album, perhaps her best latter-day work (i.e.: the best album your Mum’s unlikely to own). For an artist that often deals with multi-layered meanings and interpretations, ‘Vulnicura’ is often disarmingly frank, despite the complex arrangements this is probably Björk’s most simple and nakedly emotional record- a break up album?? It works as a great companion piece to Sharon van Etton’s wondrous ‘Are We There’ album from last year, but while that record deals with the overbearing sadness of struggling along with a relationship slowly deteriorating, ‘Vulnicura’ is more of a grand outpouring of the lacerating emotions that commence when a relationship ends, yet is also cautiously optimistic about what the future may hold. It’s an absolutely astonishing piece of work, it’s actually quite awkward to place it on a list alongside albums with track titles like ‘Bang Me Box‘ and ‘Kookseverywhere!!!’

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‘Fun’ Fact: Björk was conceived the day Malcolm X was assassinated, you do wonder what kind of things turn people on in Iceland.

I think it’s well established now that I’m generally made of much stronger stuff than you: See if you can survive the 10 minutes of ‘Black Lake‘

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18: Waxahatchee: Ivy Tripp

~ Lex Leeson ~ 6 Comments

Waxahatchee is such a wonderful reason to be alive. One of the (many, many, many) pleasing aspects of listening to her music is how you can hear her growing with confidence and even ability with each record, this is the sound of an artist who was always great slowly evolving into something spectacular. Katie Crutchfield’s third album as Waxahatchee has a generally ‘bigger’ sound than her previous releases, though it’s hardly ‘Tales From Topographic Oceans’ and none of Crutchfield’s enchanting and approachable intimacy is lost: each time the album is on Crutchfield is in the very room with you. The lyrics wonderfully capture the slightly apathetic ennui of being in your mid-20s in 2015, while ‘<‘ (yes, that’s actually what it’s called) contains 2015’s best put down with ‘You are less than me and I am nothing’. As brilliant as the album is though, you can’t help but feel that it’s merely a stepping stone to the even more fabulous music Waxahatchee promises to deliver in the future.

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‘Fun’ Fact: I love Waxahatchee so much I actually went out and bought this album on CD!!

This is turning into a bit of an awkward Waxahatchee love-fest now, do you want to just take a cheap shot at the Pixies now to lighten the mood somewhat? Good idea: imagine if the Pixies’ comeback album had anything on it half as good as ‘La Loose‘

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19: Hudson Mohawke: Lantern

~ Lex Leeson ~ 1 Comment

Ross Birchard is a man of many, many talents, but subtly is absolutely not one of them. Hudson Mohawke’s second album is essentially one exhilarating and impassioned 48 minute scream, it has its hands in the air and a whistle in its mouth, chewing his cheeks so hard that blood drips from its mouth as it swears it can see God in the club lights. Listening to ‘Lantern’ (especially on headphones) shakes your brain so comprehensively, so aggressively hyperactively, that the pure milk of your synapses are churned into the most beautiful cheese, yet always with its arm tight around your shoulder as its sweaty lips kiss your cheek. Even quieter (‘quieter’ being extremely loosely used here) songs like ‘Warriors‘ crescend so spectacularly that you’re taken to heaven, while ‘Portrait of Luci‘ initially tricks you into believing you can have a lie down, before you realise you’ve been sold a massive red herring as you’re soon swerved onto your feet again. Perhaps wary that his Kanye West collaborations may have had people pencil him in as a purely hip-hop artist, here Hudson overcompensates thrillingly by dipping his toe into every other genre of music. I’m sorry to use such a tired and cliched phrase, but this kind of fun can’t be legal.

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‘Fun’ Fact: Given his birth date, Ross must have been conceived on May 11th 1985. The date of the Bradford Fire. There’s some freaky parents.

Mate, mate, mate, mate! I love you man, like, I really fucking love you! Come here and give me a hug! I think ‘Scud Books‘ should keep your current feeling going nicely.

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20: Lonelady: Hinterland

~ Lex Leeson ~ 3 Comments

Is Julia Ann Campbell’s merely a pastiche of the greatest achievements of her home town of Manchester?All the moves are here: the songs could fit snugly onto the hypothetical third Joy Division album released in 1981, the production mirrors the best of Martin Hannett, the dark shards of post punk mirroring Manchester’s post-industrial fall-out, I’m pretty sure the catalogue number is FAC502. The main difference is that Lonelady is absolutely good enough to be ranked alongside her biggest influences, rather than a talented tribute act enclosed in bondage by her own reverence. Lonelady’s 2nd album is simply brilliant, a brisk 9 songs and 47 minutes of infectious and angular new wave, there’s certainly tributes being paid here but they never over weigh the sheer quality of the songs. Manchester has been accused (often justifiably) of being a city far too in thrall to its own legacy, but ‘Hinterland’ shows exactly just how amazing it can be if you tune this worship into precisely the correct direction.

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‘Fun’ Fact: The title track is one of the best songs to have ever come out of Manchester. Fact.

Sounds a little too objective to be considered a ‘fact’. Since I’m obviously going to go on and love this artist you may as well recommend another song for me: Absolutely no problem, try ‘Flee‘

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