5. Contra / Vampire Weekend

Vampire Weekend has more rhythm, funk, syncopation, and flow than nine out of every ten rappers. The Columbia-grads put on two great shows this year and sounded tight, inspired, and fresh. Contra is a natural extension of the band's phenomenal debut, and the album shines after getting waxed with additional eccentricities. These guys are keepers.

Thankfully, the band's sophomore album stays faithful to their sonic identity while also expanding into varied musical spaces. The ebullient production allows the band to redefine their intellectual indie-pop with genre-defying songs. Contra is mature, perhaps more subtle in parts than its predecessor, but it never sacrifices its sense of playfulness and, notably, its sense of joy.

Ezra Koenig's literate allusions to the obscure or arch-elite continue to impress. His observations are as sharp as the band's precise and inimitable musical direction. Best line on the album (or maybe any album this year): "The little stairway / A little piece of carpet / A pair of mirrors that are facing one another / Out in both directions / A thousand little Julias / That come together / In the middle of Manhattan."

Opening track "Horchata" is the perfect late-winter antidote, while "White Sky" breaks through the cloud cover with a series of chorus yelps as only Koenig can deliver. (The keyboards alone on these tracks are worth paying full admission). Other favorites: the escapist electro-violins of "Run," the ultra-fast drum fills and prickly guitars of "Cousins," the sing-along chorus and bridge of "Giving Up the Gun," and the reggae-fied nostalgia of "Diplomat's Son."

Some misguided listeners have questioned the band's authenticity. After all, didn't they get an Ivy-league education? (Yes.) Didn't they grow up in upper-class privilege? (Sort of.) Didn't they exploit globe-trotting musical references by bringing them to the masses? (And your point?) The D Man has little time for identity politics when listening to music, especially music this diverse and refreshing. When assessing artistic merit, socio-economics never held much sway for The D Man. So Van Gogh was poor. So Picasso was rich. Interesting, no doubt. But that does not necessarily mean that "Sunflowers" is greater than "Guernica."

Likewise, if Ezra Koenig can so convincingly break down Congolese soukous inside an Upper West Side narrative, it makes little difference what high school he went to--The D Man will be listening. Indeed, few complain when Lil' Wayne exploits his quasi-surroundings for serious monetary gain, and he doesn't even write compelling songs, something Koenig seems incapable of doing. But when your skin color is of the paler variety, heaven forbid you co-opt culture and music that moves you. You're called a cloy.

But I digress. Vampire Weekend seems to have few musical horizons, especially when considering how effective--and comfortable--the band is when playing with electro-pop, new wave, Afro-ryhthms, punk, and whatever else catches their fancy. The D Man's only advice: Go on, go on, go on.