3. Slowdive

Slowdive's self-titled record straddles time and space.  Having already established themselves as one of the leading lights of shoegaze, and having already recorded three classic albums exploring most of the genre's musical boundaries, Slowdive resurfaced in 2017 with dreamy and dissonant textures to rival anything from the band's '90s alt-rock heyday.

Principal songwriter Neil Halstead said the band wanted "to create something big and beautiful and sort of timeless," and it only takes one listen to appreciate their colossal success.  The British stalwarts radiate inspiration after their 22-year hiatus; indeed, it is difficult to think of any band that has taken such a lengthy break only to return sounding both in-the-moment and wholly their own.

The songs are thrilling and transportive. The circulating wash of guitars is almost tangible, while the arrangements showcase a startling range in mood that usually flutters somewhere between Rachel Goswell's evocative register and Halstead's ringing guitar.  Sweetness, melancholy, yearning, soothing, sadness--the tides of feeling rise and fall over the course of 8 songs and 46 minutes, impeccably produced and sequenced from start to finish.  (It is easily the best headphone experience of the year, a masterclass in form, movement, and texture).

The album opens with "Slomo," a reverie that casts a shadow with Goswell's gorgeous vocals and the band's shimmering guitar swells.  "Star Roving" is a victorious anthem with quasar riffs ranging across the cosmos, crunching under the weight of their planet-hunting feet. "Sugar for the Pill" is desolate beauty, the half-way there, the almost said, as the reverbed licks mimic the sound of that hollowed out space between emotions.  (It also just may be the closest thing to a real pop song the band has ever played).  "Everyone Knows" finds Goswell singing to spirited heights, knowing and hopeful.  As always, the human voice is first and foremost an instrument.  The signifiers of language are much less important than the pitch, shape, and substance of Goswell's and Halstead's chemistry.

The guitar lead sparkles on "No Longer Making Time," building to feverish and fuzzed-out choruses before finally receding into the outro.  "Go Get It" is the record's hardest-hitting track.  When the guitars wail and spin, the track almost comes of its axis, only to recover into a low-grade boil of bass, drum, and disembodied voice.  "Falling Ashes" is an epic elegy, as haunting piano lines close out the record, thinking about love, thinking about love.  When I came home one day to find my son playing this finale on our piano, it was a proud fathering moment for The D Man.  Dylan picked it out by ear, obviously drawn to something deep and eternal.