9. Admiral Fell Promises / Sun Kil Moon

Few artists can carry an album with just a guitar in their hands. On Admiral Fell Promises, singer-songwriter Mark Kozelek plays completely solo on the nylon-string guitar; classical flourishes accompany novel-like passages of lost loves and foregone places, lending a stark and spiritual gravity to the latest songs from Sun Kil Moon's increasing (and impressive) catalog. To be clear, this music is not on trend. Indeed, there was nothing else released this year that could match Kozelek's private and singular intensity, and the music's sense of timelessness. That feeling elicited a sense of mystery that was difficult to describe, listen after listen.

The album's deep-set tone is established by opener "Alesund;" with its intricate classical fingerpicking, the song immediately pulls you in with its spacious, meditative introduction. The narrator then moves into epic introspection, reflecting on a muse that is both person and place, the Scandinavian beauty of the song's namesake. Other highlights include "Third and Seneca" (another road trip marked by the passage of time, place, and heartache), "You Are My Sun" (as lovely as anything The Beatles ever recorded), and "Admiral Fell Promises" (a private reassurance to a signature love).

When The D Man introduced Sun Kil Moon for my brother's 40th birthday party (a thrill I will never forget), I told the audience that "Mark's music compels listeners to contemplate their mortality, and moves listeners to become more wholly themselves." Admiral Fell Promises is no exception.

10. Plastic Beach / Gorillaz

When the world is running down, you make the best of what's still around. On their third studio album, Plastic Beach, Gorillaz dream up a new kind of ecology, a new kind of green. Given the synthetic leftovers from the end of days, it is time to rebuild, reorganize, and reaffirm the power of plastic, and ultimately escape to a sustainable island refuge. These are not cartoon monkeys anymore; they are primates with a plan.

Damon Albarn's once-virtual band thrives in the popular arena, and his latest creation is an eclectic mishmash of electronica, hip-hop, pop, and retro-soul, that faithfully delivers the album's visual message in a way that lyrics never could. Easily one of the most enjoyable listens of the year (and Gorillaz' best album to date), Plastic Beach features guest performances from Snoop Dogg, Mos Def, Lou Reed, De La Soul, Gruff Rhys, and Bobby Womack, among others, and the trove of pop offerings is worthy of an island paradise, albeit one born of ingenuity and studio magic. The record features some of the best production of the year, and further suggests that Albarn is a renaissance man of sorts.

"Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach" features Snoop Dogg's most inspired work in years. "Stylo" is a combination of futuristic synths and retro stylings, thanks to singular turns at the mic from Albarn, Mos Def, and Bobby Womack, who apparently free-styled his powerful verses off the top of his head ("In another world, in the universe!"). "Superfast Jellyfish" is more than an inside joke, as it makes perfect use of De La Soul's wit and Gruff Rhys' melodic charms. Lest listeners come away with the notion that reinvention is all fun and games, several tracks contain a yearning kind of melancholy that breathes humanity into the record.

"On Melancholy Hill" and "Empire Ants" are the best tracks on the album, and the perfect examples of Albarn's considerable production skills without sacrificing aching, heartfelt emotions. "Meloncholy Hill" floats over a memorable, lilting synth-line that reaches the sublime when a crestfallen Albarn sings the chorus: "Cause you are my medicine / when you're close to me." "Empire Ants" is a master class in seamless juxtaposition; what begins with Albarn's windblown vocals amid dreamy keys and strums, suddenly turns into electronic transcendence with a thrilling vocal performance from Little Dragon.

Welcome to the Plastic Beach!

11. Gemini / Wild Nothing

Wild Nothing's dreamy, shoegaze guitar-pop hints at the ineffable. Gemini is awash with starry-eyed synths, crystalline guitars, and fuzzy atmospherics, reimagining a vein of iridescent, wistful, 1980's pop music, where the answers just lead to more questions. Jack Tatum's debut is an understated affair that sulks, seeps, and sears into listeners romance-fueled memories, and the album is a clear indication that he is an unabashed fan of his brooding, mysterious, and melodic forebears, the touchstones that mopey teens of yesteryear listened to and adored (Joy Division, The Cure, The Cocteau Twins, to name just a few).

As an aside, and in the spirit of full disclosure, The D Man is beholden to new wave and many of its permutations. The reasons are deep-seated and likely originate from happy, early years in a lower middle-class neighborhood, listening to the magical (and seemingly exotic) music older brothers brought home. Upon further reflection, and apart from my native affinity for the distinctive sounds of that era (the icy guitars! the evocative keyboards! the vocal deliveries!), social dynamics and musical elements also play into an affection for popular music's reawakening after rock'n'roll's glorious implosion. After twenty-five years of rock music, its excesses, its machismo, its blues-oriented sound, and its culmination in punk, listening to the intelligent artists of the loosely-defined new wave feels like starting over. Like painting with a new brush and new colors. Moreover, these same artists brought long overdue emotions back into the sonic landscape: sadness, melancholy, longing, romance.

Gemini captures all of this sepia-toned nostalgia, and along with the excellent Golden Haze EP, it is a breathtaking demonstration of the elusive genre's experimentation, complexity, and production. Indeed, Wild Nothing's evocative debut is another example of new wavers meaningful contributions to current indie musicians, almost as if the 1960's never happened. And for some, like The D Man, they never did.

12. Go / Jónsi

Jón (“Jónsi”) Pór Birgisson, the frontman for Sigur Rós, seems like he is from another planet. Given the sonic palette of his solo debut, it would be a lush, dreamy world of vegetation and color, prone to occassional fits of weeping rain. Like Pandora. Isn't he wearing feathers on the album's cover?

Go is a remarkable symph-pop record--inspiring, even--with beautiful flourishes of flutes, horns, percussions, and strings. Indeed, avant-garde indie-composer Nico Muhly's string arrangments are heavenly, while Samuli Kosminen's poly-rhythmic percussions help the music feel earthworn, elemental. "Go Do," as its title suggests, runs with wide-eyed, unbridled abandon ("We should always know that we can do anything"); "Animal Arithmetic" celebrates life's joyous cacophonies ("We should all be alive!); and "Boy Lillikoi" urges individual illumination ("We all grow old, use your life, the world goes and flutters by"). From other artists, these sentiments would sound trite; for Jónsi, they are empowered with wonder and innocence.

How is Go different from a Sigur Rós record? There seems to be a tighter pop-song focus--perhaps a natural extension from the first-half of 2008's splendid Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust--and the result is warmer, denser, more intimate than the ethereal, sometimes alien wonders of Sigur Rós. Jónsi also sings entirely in English, however, for most songs, it appears to make little difference, as his vocal intonations remain otherwordly.

Jónsi is now burdened with a stunning back catalog, and all of his efforts, solo or otherwise, may be unfairly weighed against his singular output. To be sure, had Go been our first listen to his distinctive world, it would have garnered more attention, and it would have been included in more discussions of the year's best albums. We simply take for granted beautiful things that we have seen or heard before. Regardless, there remains immense listening satisfaction from the record's sense of treasure, its sense of being untainted, unfound.

13. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy / Kanye West

Don't believe the hype. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy has bite, but it is not a better listen than Kanye's previous albums, particularly the multi-faceted flow of The College Dropout or the candy-gloss shine of Graduation. The album is strong, no doubt, but it is not once-in-a-generation material.

In a genre with few interesting moments this year (yes, that means you hip-hop, minus this song, of course), Kanye is hailed by critics as the latest and greatest hope, and this album is viewed as the most audacious rap record of the past several years. There is little doubt that Kanye is a better recordmaker than his peers, but The D Man is confused as to why this effort has garnered such over-the-top praise. We rave about his self-awareness, his honesty, his bravado, but with so few competitors, where exactly is the critical bar? Where does dirty self-congratulation end and true lyrical deftness begin? (Note to parents: The D Man highly recommends the edited version). Several of the tracks are massive and original, while others result in numbing fatigue, and the album's sum total is an erratic depiction of a talented but troubled soul.

So why the Top Twenty? Despite the above disclaimer, the record still has potent musical moments, and the artist's attempt at global pop domination is too convincing to overlook. Kanye culls inspiration from all of his previous material, and his hard-hitting and bombastic production (great samples and guest stars abound) give life to his innermost grievances, fantasies, and lyrical postulations. (Best line: "Too many Urkels on your team/ that's why your Winslow.") The songs are wide-ranging and, for good or ill, depict the many faces of Kanye: Kanye, the grand minister of inspiration ("Dark Fantasy"); Kanye, the dark-tribal overlord ("POWER"); Kanye, the pensive relationship-hero ("Runaway"); Kanye, the furious MC tag-teamer ("Monster"); Kanye, the major hit-maker ("All the Lights"); Kanye, the hedonistic apologist (multiple tracks). You get the idea; the man is so complex. But with so many different faces, one is left wondering: will the real Kanye please stand up?

14. Infinite Arms / Band of Horses

We're Band of Horses. And we're from America. Three albums in, Band of Horses has established itself as a quintessential American band that successfully blurs the boundaries of indie-rock, folk, and country, and continually makes some of the best open-road music of the day. Infinite Arms is a comfortable collection of tunes, filled with sweet guitars, accessible hooks, and leisurely harmonies, and it feels about as well-worn as your old plaid button-up.

Taking off from previous releases, opening track "Factory" features a rising chorus backed by heavy-hearted strings, and the song successfully pulls off a "snack machine" reference. Second track "Compliments" is a zippy rocker, while third track "Laredo" is wide-open, American country-rock, easily the best driving song of the summer. From there, the album moves through Shins-like shuffles ("On My Way Back Home"), dreamy pysche-folk ("Infinite Arms"), poppy guitar-pop ("Dilly"), and back-porch reveries ("Evening Kitchen," "Older"). There is no rush, no hurry, especially when all the parts equal more than the sum, and the sum equals none . . . .

If Everything All the Time was their swirling reflection of the Northwest, and Cease to Begin their shimmering return to the South, then Infinite Arms is the band's meandering, shuffling trek West, with big skies, empty roads, and welcoming porches ahead. So keep on moving.

15. Astro Coast / Surfer Blood

Astro Coast packages power-riffs, power chords, and power choruses with meticulous guitar arrangements, creating a big-sounding surf-rock record. The spacey guitars and buoyant melodies are the show, and the show delivers hook after hook that would make classic indie bands blush. Surfer Blood was made for Rock Band.

"Swim (To Reach the End)" is swelling and anthemic, a song that would have been comfortable on MTV's 120 Minutes in the early 1990's. "Floating Vibes" is attention-grabbing, dueling guitar-pop, and "Harmonix" patiently builds, cresting at intervals, just like, you guessed it, waves of the ocean. But passing off Surfer Blood as merely an alt-rock revivalist with a penchant for water imagery (the name, the album cover, the song titles) discounts the promising guitar intricacy--and intuitive feel for a great hook--that imbues the band's entire debut record. After hearing Surfer Blood play live, there is little to doubt: crowdsurfing is encouraged.

16. Spoon / Transference

Spoon guts their last album's full-bodied production, leaving behind only thin membranes of guitar, piano, and Britt Daniel's pointy vocals. But the result is spare, brainy rock'n'roll consistent with some of their best work, if not downright subversive in its barebones construction. The Austin band's post-punk and garage-rock come unadorned, yet, surprisingly, bursts of groove and space still give way to seriously funky moments.

To call this album challenging would be a disservice, especially considering past efforts Kill the Moonlight or Gimme Fiction, and perhaps that sentiment is more of a nod to Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga's polished accessibility. Transference is merely another shift in the band's relentless desire to make intriguing music in what can be a tired genre. Like The White Stripes, Spoon rarely compromises its approach to rockmaking, blasting away at the construction of songs, or in this case, ripping out their heart and stringing the pieces together.

17. The Drums / The Drums

In a year of exquisite and nuanced 1980's revivalism, The Drums self-titled debut is straightforward, late-decade, Anglo guitar-pop that pleases at almost every turn. The Drums limited sonic vocabulary is effervescent (rather than an impediment), as the Brooklyn-via-Florida band understands their influences and wears them on their big-hearted sleeves.

Lead singer Jonathan Pierce prances, struts, and sings with an overwhelming sense of romance and a deep longing for connecting to his musical forerunners. His lyrical hooks are simple by design, and they are the perfect compliment to Jacob Graham's spindly guitar work. The tinny drums bely the album's solid production, but that may also be an intentional retro vibe in addition to the handclaps, reverb, keyboards, and harmonies that permeate the band's singular sound. A strong, imminently listenable debut.

18. Troubadours

Fionn Regan and Kristian Mattson (aka The Tallest Man on Earth) are folk troubadours in the finest sense. An impeccable sense of songcraft weaves its way through their sophomore albums, Shadow of an Empire and The Wild Hunt, respectively.

Fionn Regan's debut was a masterful folk record in the vein of Nick Drake and Bob Dylan, albeit more propulsive than Drake and more pastoral than Dylan. On Shadow of an Empire, the Irish lad plugs in and leaves the acoustic guitar behind for a few tracks, driving home a ragged (but always melodic) rockabilly with his usual literate flair. A formidable, second triumph.

Kristian Mattson's voice always leads to comparisons with Dylan, and, indeed, his spare acoustic production is a folk-revival of sorts, even though his songs are decidedly forward-looking in their ultimate tone. The Wild Hunt displays Mattson's vibrant finger-picking and vocal agility, and his strange Southern drawl swagger (again) belies his Swedish roots. Heady, dexterous, and enthralling stuff.

19. The Place We Ran From / Tired Pony

Tired Pony's strong debut came as something of a surprise. The individual members of the so-called supergroup are certainly talented in their own right (Gary Lightbody, Peter Buck, Richard Colburn, Jacknife Lee, etc), but their proposed collection of "country" songs--something Lightbody has always wanted to record--failed to garner much enthusiasm from critics or The D Man. Turns out, shame on anyone who didn't pick up this excellent set of somewhat dark, mellifluous tunes.

The Place We Ran From contains an assortment of Americana: late-night scorchers ("Get On the Road," recorded with indie-darling Zooey Deschanel), strong alt-country rockers ("Dead American Writers"), catchy sing-alongs ("I Am a Landslide"), early R.E.M.-sounding outtakes ("Point Me at Lost Islands"), and tracks that belong in late-night-drive movie scenes teetering between bewilderment and self-pity ("The Good Book," "Pieces"). Ultimately, the best thing about this record may be Lightbody's jump from the mainstream, and his ability to use his brilliant voice in entirely new contexts.

20. Treats / Sleigh Bells

Treats sounds like a bunch of physcadelic cheerleaders playing extremely loud rock music. Yep, that's about it. At least the album cover is somewhat telling. The D Man's sister's cheerleading squad should do a Sleigh Bells routine during halftime of a high school basketball game. Now that would be a real treat. As for the album, it is a total one-off (not sure where Sleigh Bells go from here), but it is definitely fun until the final horn sounds.

Ten Best Musical Moments of 2010

(The D Man, Rizzo, and Rip prepare for Sun Kil Moon)

Music is a private and communal experience. In 2010, The D Man, as always, enjoyed great musical moments in solitude and with others. These were the ten best.

• 10. Enjoying Fallon's spot-on version of "Pants on the Ground" as Neil Young.
• 9. Listening to LCD Soundsystem's "Pow Pow" with Rizzo and Schwarzy on the Vegas Strip.
• 8. Hearing "M79," live, two times in the same year.
• 7. Watching Conan O'Brien play "Freebird" with Will Ferrell and company during his last Tonight Show.
• 6. Listening to Beach House's Teen Dream while driving on the Pacific Coast highway after a great day at Lego Land.
• 5. Hitting the high notes on "Is There A Ghost" during the Band of Horses show.
• 4. Listening to Declaration of Dependence at least thirty times all the way through. Listening to the same while bringing my third son home from the hospital.
• 3. Introducing High Violet to Viwe Xozwa, my (much darker) South African counterpart, during a beautiful autumn drive in the mountains.
• 2. Attending the Sufjan Stevens concert, and specifically, experiencing the 30-minute existential catharsis of "Impossible Soul."
• 1. Watching Mark Kozelek play in my brother's backyard, and listening to "Salvador Sanchez" under the late-summer night sky.

Five Things

The D Man has finally come down from his Sufjan experience. Since then, Deerhunter and Twin Shadow have been in constant rotation, a few jumpshots have been knocked down, and two court hearings have been completely dominated. Still got it.

• Deerhunter's "Helicopter" is all gossamer, gauzy threads of gorgeousness.
• Twin Shadow"s "Castles in the Snow" and "Slow," among others, are pure bada$$.
• Band of Horses' "Dilly" goes for a ride. Dirtbags, linedancing, and roadblocks included.
• "Arcade Fire's "The Suburbs" gets the Spike Jonze treatment.
• "Belle & Sebastian's "I Didn't See it Coming" will make you feel better after watching "The Suburbs."

Sufjan Stevens in Concert

Boy, we can do so much more together. --"Impossible Soul" by Sufjan Stevens

In The Book of Moses, Moses speaks with God "face to face." In that intimate setting, the Creator tells Moses "thou art my son: wherefore look, and I will show thee the workmanship of mine hands; but not all, for my works are without end, and also my words, for they never cease." God also explains to Moses his divine origins: "I have a work for thee, Moses, my son; and thou art in the similitude of mine Only Begotten; and mine Only Begotten is and shall be the Savior, for he is full of grace and truth."

In the promised vision, "Moses looked and beheld the world upon which he was created; and Moses beheld the world and the ends thereof, and all the children of men which are, and which were created; of the same he greatly marveled and wondered." After his grand vision, Moses states: "Now, for this cause I know that man is nothing, which thing I never had supposed."
Finally, in the wake of Moses' divine knowledge of Self and Creation, Satan comes and tempts Moses. Moses commands Satan to depart.

I could not help but relate this (true) story after seeing Sufjan Stevens in concert. It somehow fit into how I was feeling, how I was registering my own internal sense of something profound. In some small but weighty measure, Sufjan's music and performance captured the vastness and intimacy of God's designs, the cosmic juxtaposition of our insignificance relative to His creations and the immediacy of our relationship to Him. Sufjan's impressive ability to expand and then diminish his complex song structures--to depict the personal and Universal in his storytelling--stirred within me with the willingness to wrestle with demons, internal or otherwise.

Three random thoughts.

First, if the above seems heavy, well, it is. Sufjan Stevens does not do the unimportant. The reach of his new album--sonically, lyrically, thematically--penetrates the heart with elemental magnitude. Stevens replaces the autobiographical, historical, and topographical narratives with an internal dialogue of the Self. Stories are replaced by his primal utterances. Secrets, worries, hopes, and confessions are paraded through rich contours of orchestral and electronic music, unleashed to discover private meaning.

Second, Age of Adz was meant to be heard live. It seems foolish to try to explain the performance, other than to say it sounded--and looked--fantastic. Sufjan's cast of players were phenomenal and deserve credit for bringing to life the endless musical ideas that spin out from his elliptical orbits. And the intergalactic, multi-media experience was a perfect complement to his musical message.

Third, I left the concert inspired. I have seen many shows from artists that I enjoy, but rarely, if ever, have I felt the kind of resolve to improve, be better, lift. It is difficult to describe the goodness that permeates Sufjan's music, but it is a tangible quality, interspersed with the flights of lyrical and musical whimsy, that is nothing short of divine.

• "Seven Swans." A prophetic, apocalyptic vision turned nightmare by the (almost) spiritual death-metal interludes. A surprising twist that seemed to unlock the seals of the Apocalypse. Or at least open the show.
• "Too Much." When we first saw Sufjan dance. Oh yes, there was dancing.
• "Age of Adz." Stunning. The rise and fall of the music and lyrics--the massive crescendos followed by intimate admissions--was breathtaking. Easily one of the highlights of the night. Life. Love. Death. The end of times. This song has it all.
• "Heirloom." The first of several well-placed folk comedowns where Sufjan would take the stage, guitar in hand, with a few select players from his ensemble. Beautiful.
• "I Walked." Sufjan described this as a "slow jam" for some lady love. Niiiiice.
• "Enchanting Ghost." Another fine song from the All Delighted People EP.
• "Vesuvius." Sufjan's internal struggle with existential ennui and the meaning of it all. This song was large, as were the lighting effects to go with it.
• "The Owl and the Tanager." A haunting solo performance on the piano with Sufjan's backup singers and their absolutely gorgeous voices.
• "Get Real Get Right." Sufjan gave a ten-minute discourse about, among other things, the shapelessness of his music and his artistic venture into the void since the making of his last proper album, Illinois. He spoke of collecting soundscapes and returning to a primitive approach to songwriting, unformulating all that he had known before. As the story goes, Sufjan finally received inspiration from the late prophet Royal Robertson, a black Louisiana-bred Baptist and schizophrenic sign-maker, and his B-movie, sci-fi apocalyptic artwork, which ultimately gave form and companionship to Sufjan's musicmaking and ushered in the Age of Adz. "Get Real Get Right" is an ode to that relationship and a description of the inscrutable Robertson that alleviated Sufjan's formlessness. Got it?
• "Futile Devices." We were privileged to hear the first-ever solo on a handheld Casio keyboard. Lovely.
• "Impossible Soul." The climax of the night. Maybe the the most ridiculous, thrilling, entertaining, and spiritual 30 minutes of music I've ever experienced live. Space harmonies. Electronic backbeats. Changing costumes. Autotune. Dancing. I got whatever it was that Sufjan was doing; overwhelmed in the closing acoustic minutes of this epic song, I felt myself on the verge of tears. It was utterly carthartic, in-the-moment musicmaking that will be impossible to reproduce in the future. Sorry, but you really did have to be there.
• "Chicago." Before the encore, Sufjan closed with his magnum opus of sorts. The magnificent horns still sound magnificent.
• "Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois." Sufjan played this solo. The piano refrains from this song kept me up at night when I first bought the album over five years ago. Splendid.
• "Jacksonville." Who doesn't like Andrew Jackson?
• "John Wayne Gacy, Jr." I would have preferred "Casimir Pulaski Day," a much more uplifting downer. But you cannot deny this is potent stuff.

*Rizzo, Whitney, Rip, Ty, Kate, G-Reese, and Bruce the CEO likewise enjoyed the performance with The D Man. Good on ya!

Song of the Week

Belle & Sebastian Write About Love. Of course. Over the years, Stuart Murdoch and his Glasgow faithful have written a churchful of wry, literate, and spiritually-satisfying pop songs--and almost all of them are about love, incarnate or otherwise. Recently, fans from all over the world responded in kind with little love letters. How many artists inspire this kind of artful participation?

"Come on Sister," the second track from the new album, is as delightful as anything the band has played before. Have a seat and enjoy the polished sheen of the band's latest vibe.

Thirteen Random Songs To Listen To Before Halloween

The rain has settled in and the clouds are downcast. The leaves are falling and the trees are gold. The week before Halloween is the perfect time to listen to the right music. Any of the songs below, culled from the last several years, would be perfect for your party mix-tape; you could avoid the usual fare without giving up any of the atmosphere.

• "It Ended on An Oily Stage" by British Sea Power. Drenched in proper Anglo-Saxon pop theatrics.
• "Get On, Me" by The Brother Kite. Yep, it's the guitars.
• "Tyrant Destroyed" by Twin Shadow. From a killer album hot off the press.
• "Of Montreal" by The Stills. Arguably the best song from Logic Will Break Your Heart.
• "Moon and Moon" by Bat for Lashes. Check. And check.
• "Bleary Eyed" by Annuals. Guess you'll have to buy their debut.
• "The Last Broadcast" by Doves. May as well play the whole album.
• "Munich" by Editors. Is someone going to complain if this makes your mixtape?
• "Hunters Map" by Fionn Regan. The End of History is a fine album. This is a great all-hallows track.
• "Central and Remote" by Grizzly Bear. Arguably the sound of late October.
• "Halloween" by Matt Pond P.A. Okay, may as well get literal for one song.
• "Special" by Mew. Most of this Danish band's oeuvre would make the cut.
• "Cemetary Lawn" by The Rosebuds. Scary with a backbeat.
• "Shade and Honey" by Sparklehorse. Can I tell you how much I love this song?
• "Island, IS" by Volcano Choir. Played this last Halloween while driving home. Perfect.

Song of the Week

"Futile Devices" is the gorgeous introduction to Sufjan Steven's intergalactic apocrypha, The Age of Adz. The D Man thought he should share the 25-minute, five-suite closer "Impossible Soul," but he understood that your workplace perusal would not allow for such high adventure.

Words are futile devices. Yet somehow Stevens fleshes out the longing that we feel for someone so close to us, be it mother or lover. Its been a long time since I memorized your face . . . and don't say "I love you" without saying it out loud. Enjoy the fan video below.

Five Things

The D Man is back after some serious legal training. His trial team won a large (imaginary) verdict and The D Man brought down the house with a stirring closing argument. ("Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"). Unfortunately, all of that heavy lifting ultimately left The D Man in the throes of pneumonia. That's right, good old-fashioned pneumonia. Wish me well, but the music must go on.

• The Dewars opened up for The Drums and Surfer Blood last week. They may be the worst opening band I've ever seen. We wanted to punch them in the face, and the Rizzo got out a few well-timed cat calls that they definitely heard.
• The Drums needed to turn down the reverb on Jonathan Pierce's vocals. Otherwise, cool band with some serious potential. Jacob Graham's washed-out guitar playing was definitely the highlight.
• Surfer Blood sounded excellent with a no nonsense performance. Played some new tunes that were very promising.
• This song came on while celebrating the end of a long week, straight from the jukebox in the hotel pub, and made my entire night. In a perfect world, that should happen much more often.
• "Lemonworld" is a great track from High Violet. Found this live performance. And "Modern Man" from The Suburbs seems to be a first cousin.

Song of the Week

Still listening to the loose, propulsive, and serious "Ready to Start" from Arcade Fire's excellent third album. Indeed, The D Man has been living in The Suburbs all week. October is a great time to be there. Sometimes it is a wise decision to shelve a new release until the initial reaction has blown over and your first listens are entirely your own. Plus, The D Man knew this was absolutely not a summer album. Another good call.

Band of Horses

Highlights from the Band of Horses concert. Rip, Rizzo, Whit, Kate, J, and Viwe all took in the show with The D Man as their shaman guide.

• "We're Band of Horses. And we're from America." Best greeting ever. Still pumps The D Man up.
• After declaring "this one will surprise you," Ben Bridwell and company opened with "The Great Salt Lake." As if that was not enough, the band ripped into "Is There A Ghost" for the 6-4-3 double-play. J commented that it may have been the best opening combination he'd ever seen, and who was The D Man to argue?
• The band refused to come down with ringing versions of "Weed Party," "Islands on the Coast," and "Ode to LRC."
• Bridwell mentioned that his voice had been struggling the past few days. But he said it was better to press on than cancel the show. Thank goodness. A few songs in he started to get into the groove, and by the time he hit open-throated anthems like "No One's Gonna Love You," he was in full stride.
• Ben put down his guitar and lit one up for the breezy lovelorn road-trip "Laredo." That decision was probably not going to help any voice problems, but he sure looked cool.
• Other set-list highlights included the large-sounding "Factory," the downright happy "Older," the rarely-played live "Dilly," and the guitar-heavy "Cigarettes, Wedding Bands."
• The look of the line-up is perfectly constructed for the band's sound and style. The two key characters, after Bridwell's rural hipster vibe, are easily Tyler Ramsey and Bill Reynolds. Tyler is a hulking but peaceful bearded giant, while Bill is Kip from Napolean Dynamite, complete with a foam hat, cut of t-shirt with impossibly skinny arms in tow, and a large feather hanging out of the end of his overwhelming bass guitar. Watching Bill make sweet love to his instrument was as entertaining as it gets.
• Torched a massive version of "The Funeral" right before the encore. One of the twenty best songs of the new millenium.
• The encore consisted of a bass-heavy "Our Swords," a swirling master-class "The First Song," and a delightful comedown "Monsters."
• Viwe Xozwa, my dear South African friend and longtime reader, enjoyed his first true American rock experience. He gave it a "7," which is high praise for someone who loves Janet Jackson, hails from KwaMagxaki, and clicks when he speaks.
• The band sounded expansive and clearly had a good time playing for the crowd. Just knowing that Band of Horses are on the road playing each night makes The D Man feel good. Three albums in, we are lucky to have them; a quintessential American band that successfully blurs the boundaries of indie-rock, folk, and country, and continually makes some of the best open-road music of our day.

Sun Kil Moon: Part IIIV: The Performance

The setting was perfect. We had invited people to hear a Concert Under The Sun Kil Moon and we got just that: a crisp late-summer evening, the night sky brimming with stars, and a brilliant sliver of moon hovering in the west. There could have been no better time and place to listen to Mark's sacramental guitarwork and lyrical elegance.

Mark sat down and fine-tuned his instrument. We were spread out on the lawn in chairs, close to the stage, eagerly awaiting his performance. During the third song, we had a scare that resurfaced from the problems at soundcheck, as the power went out for a second or two. Fortunately, the soundguys honed in on the right mix, and Mark was able to get into a confident groove. My small prayers had been answered.

Mark set the tone with "Alesund;" with its intricate classical fingerpicking, the song immediately pulls you in with its spacious, meditative introduction. The opening track from Admiral Fell Promises is epic introspection in a manner that only Mark can deliver, reflecting on a muse that is both person and place, the Scandinavian beauty of Alesund.

Mark went even more epic and intimate with his next song, if that is even possible, playing the incomparable "Duk Koo Kim." The song is a breathtaking fourteen minutes, the number of rounds the tragic Kim lasted in his final bout. During the extended bridges, Mark's acoustic version became an exquisite display of the sublime.

Mark moved into a lovely rendition of "Moorestown," as nostalgic a remembrance of lost love as pop music can project, followed by a crystalline version of "Carry Me Ohio." In the original, the words, halfway-submerged in the music's dense soundscape, slowly reveal themselves, mimicking the fleeting, hazy nature of memory. On this night, Mark's emphasis on the penultimate plea transformed the song into private prayer: Heal her soul, and carry her my angel, Ohio.

"Third and Seneca" was followed by "Cindy," a famous American folk song that Mark managed to keep humorous and serious at the same time. It was clear everyone loved Mark's clever take on the number, even if many failed to realize the song has been around for a long time in various incarnations--long enough to even meet the approval of my a cappella teacher as we performed it in high school.

Mark's banter throughout the evening was loose and pleasant. Mark asked if everyone was doing all right. He said "we don't have backyards in San Francisco." A dog barked in the distance. Everyone laughed when he noted it was the first time that had happened during a show.

"You Are My Sun" was beautiful. I could not get the "Leona" refrain out of my head for days. Given the natural beauty of the surroundings, Mark probably felt compelled to play the new song "Church of the Pines," one of the most pastoral numbers he has ever written.

Mark again asked if everyone was doing all right. He said he was just doing what he normally did, and he hoped it was all appropriate for a family show. He paused and then joked that "we don't have families in San Francisco either."

Mark asked what other songs we wanted to hear. Rip called for "Salvador Sanchez." Mark joked that he couldn't remember the song. Rip also asked for "Glenn Tipton" for my Dad. (The old ball coach could appreciate opening lines like "Cassius Clay was hated more than Sonny Liston."). A few more possibilities were called out, at which Mark joked, "hey now don't boss me around." He was clearly feeling good. And with the next run of songs, Mark would hit a high that I have still not come down from. We later remarked that we could feel Mark wanting to make the night special, and during the next three songs he certainly accomplished that objective.

"Salvador Sanchez" gave me the chills. Mark's delivery was divine. And "Glenn Tipton" seemed to strike with great force, especially during the rising choruses. Mark then surprised everyone with "All Mixed Up," one of the best songs from his Red House Painters catalog. It was a magical three-song run only to be followed by another trifecta.

"Heron Blue" was dark and mysterious and displayed the lower range in Mark's unique register. "Rock 'N' Roll Singer," another audience request, was pure acoustic candy; AC/DC never sounded so interesting or contemplative. Mark ended his performance with "Blue Orchids," the graceful closer from April. Mark's classical guitarwork was stunning--at times it sounded as if two guitars were playing, one for rhythm, one for melody.

We gave Mark a standing ovation. During his performance, I had constantly looked up at the night sky and tried to soak in the entire experience. Thankfully, I am still enjoying it now. That is what makes his music so special: it lasts.

Enjoy "Have You Forgotten" from the Vanilla Sky soundtrack. (Check out the original version from 1996's Songs for a Blue Guitar).

Sun Kil Moon: Part IIV: The Morning After

Mark decided to stay in the guest room and forego spending the night at the hotel. We were pleased that he had felt so comfortable. In the morning, we relaxed some more and Mark said that he would love to return to spend more time with us. On that note, Mark asked me to check out potential venues for a future concert and send him the information. He also promised to send me his new September 2010 concert poster before leaving on the next leg of his tour. A few days after he left, two signed posters appeared in the mail with a handwritten postcard from Mark. He is a man that makes good on his word.

On the ride to the airport we discussed his apartment in San Francisco, his love interests, and his family in Ohio. Mark also made several interesting observations about our own family dynamics. We talked more about his music, as I had strategically peppered him with questions throughout his stay. I asked him if he had ever had a problem with some of the unique covers that he has recorded. He said Neil Diamond threatened to sue him for a Cameron Crowe-commissioned cover for Elizabethtown. Apparently, Neil wasn't "comfortable" with Mark's reinterpretation of "Kentucky Woman," failing to realize that he might actually have a chance to be relevant again.

We parted with Mark at the airport and exchanged hugs at the curb. Mark reiterated that he had a great time and looked forward to coming back. Over the past twenty-four hours, we had become friends. No doubt his music will never be the same.

Enjoy an alternative acoustic version of "Salvador Sanchez" from 2003's Ghosts of the Great Highway.

Sun Kil Moon: Part IV: The After-Party

We made a late-night run to In-N-Out with my favorite singer-songwriter alive. Bob Dylan or Neil Young could not have made the excursion more enjoyable. Mark was hungry after his performance so we all piled into the truck and went through the drive-up window. Mark did not mess around and ordered two hamburgers, fries, and and a large iced tea.

We hung out in the kitchen and talked music and families. Mark was happy to hear that so many enjoyed the show including people that had never heard his music before. He seemed relieved that his performance had delivered for neophytes and longtime listeners.

We convinced Mark that he needed to play Rock Band so we ventured down to the theatre room for some vicarious jamming. Mark unsurprisingly had never heard of the game before. We wanted to test our theory of whether the game was actually more difficult for a virtuoso guitar player than a couch-concert wannabe. But really we just wanted to play in the same line-up as Mark for one night, even if it meant pretending to play fake plastic guitars.

We first demonstrated our chops for Mark with a solid run of "Float On," "Wonderwall," and some other crap band that eludes me. We then gave Mark an axe and he played lead on The Cars "Just What I Needed." Mark reclined back in his chair and appeared to finger the buttons on the neck with ease. But after four straight failures, our band getting thrown off the stage, we deemed our theory correct and Mark retired from the make-believe world of gaming for the first and last time.

Enjoy Mark (in the shades) singing "Tiny Dancer" from 2000's Almost Famous.

Sun Kil Moon: Part V: The Party

Mark enjoyed the beautiful evening with the rest of the guests. He met family and chatted easily with longtime fans. He even endured a few strange comments from a distant uncle (on the in-law side), who stated with certitude that all music has been crap since Rubber Soul. I put my arm around the perpetrator and walked him in the other direction, shielding Mark from any more ridiculous statements. Our friend has obviously never listened to Ghosts of the Great Highway, an album of absolute perfection that was not recorded in the 60's.

As the night grew crisp, Mark told me he was concerned about his fingers in the cold. (After watching his fingers move across the strings, it is easy to understand why). I said we would run to the store and grab a space heater to place next to him on stage. He said he felt pretentious even bringing it up, but I quickly dismissed the notion as we wanted him to be completely comfortable during his performance. I had spent most of the night pacing back and forth among friends and family, too nervous and excited for the concert to sit still. I was not about to let Mark's fingers feel the least bit disenchanted.

Mark jumped in with the soundguy to pick something up--he said he wanted to see some more of the place. Nothing like a Saturday night run to Lowes to capture the essence of our community. Indeed, I laughed thinking about the scene: Mark searching the aisles of a big box hardware store right before playing a show. A man the Sunday Times recently said had "assembled one of the most impressive and indivdiualistic song canons American music has thrown up in the last 20 years." To be sure, his humility was a godsend on this unpredictable night.

Enjoy "Moorestown" from 2008's April.

Sun Kil Moon: Part IV: The Sound Check

Mark needed reverb. And he was not getting it. Not delay. But perfect reverb. Three seconds for vocals, two seconds for guitars. In the most tense part of the day, at least from our perspective, the sound system was not cooperating. We all looked at each other with over-worried glances.

Eventually, the reverb box crashed and the power went down. We sent one of the soundguys for reinforcements and had to wait for an hour for Mark to finish the soundcheck even as guests began arriving. Mark had to calm our nerves, and I reminded everyone that this is precisely why you do a soundcheck--and that this was not Mark's first rodeo. Thousands of concerts flashed before my eyes from Stockholm to San Francisco. We would get the sound right and his performance would be fine.

When Mark played the opening passages of "Alesund," sitting alone in the backyard, it was surreal. And not in the overused sense of that word; it was dreamlike, a moment that this longtime listener cannot fully explain. Having spent countless personal moments with Mark's music, the simple fact that he was playing here was pure fantasy.

Ohio. Long drives to southern Utah. Early morning hours and late nights. Listening to Tiny Cities for the first time in a Civil War-era cemetary, the burning leaves of autumn swept across the graves. Listening to April on the way home in the car and "Blue Orchids" making my wife cry. There were too many intimate experiences through the years for me to contextualize actually having Mark play before us in this setting. It was like a character from your favorite novel appearing to discuss their very real lives with you. It was, in every sense, surreal.

Enjoy "Alesund" from 2010's Admiral Fell Promises.

Sun Kil Moon: Part III: The Arrival

When we arrived at the house Mark pulled from his bag a limited edition vinyl for the birthday boy--only twenty-five of them ever pressed. This kind of forethought was the perfect example of his desire to provide a memorable experience. He later told us this was the first time he had performed in these circumstances, and one could sense that he was concerned about doing things right.

Mark met my parents and was gracious with his time. He seemed especially intrigued with my father and asked questions about him throughout his stay. Men like my father do not run in the same circles as Mark. An enthusiastic old ball coach, weathered by wins and losses, Dad has the presence of a personal mentor in just about every situation. Dad pointed out to Mark that many people have talents, but few make the sacrifice to develop them fully. This sentiment seemed to strike Mark as truth and he wholeheartedly agreed.

Mark settled into his guest room after taking a walk around the premises. He had noted how the view of the lake reminded him of the Bay Area and the surrounding mountains suggested Norway. We could sense he was pleased with the set-up and location. He emerged to check his email on the office computer, something he likely couldn't do from his dated-looking flip phone. In response to a comment about his prowess as a classical guitarist, Mark had told a recent audience you can get good at shit if you don't mess around on Facebook all day. Needless to say, he has little need for new technology. Gets in the way of writing beautiful songs.

The weather was brilliant. Mark asked me if it was all right if he went for a walk in the neighborhood. He walks five or six miles every day through the streets of San Francisco, and one cannot help but think it has some connection to his artistic process. So I helped him on his way to make sure he was firing on all cylinders. Least I could do.

Enjoy "Space Travel is Boring" from 2005's Tiny Cities.

Sun Kil Moon: Part II: The Pick-Up

We had some discussion about how many guitars he would bring. I maintained he would only bring one. So when we saw him walking toward us near the baggage claim, my intuition felt justified when he approached with a single black guitar case and a small light-blue bag. Like any true artist, Mark traveled light.

He was wearing a stylish white-collared shirt, sleeves pulled up to the elbows, and jeans and black shoes. He was handsome like his pictures and performances suggested, sleight but well-built. We have long judged men and their proportions, and I was happy to report that Mark was tall enough, and there was something magnetic in his physical persona. My wife would later comment about his deep-set eyes and this sort-of beautiful sadness that seemed to reside there. She was right. His eyes belied a resovoir of introspection, a place of deep-rooted observation and feeling.

After we made some introductions, I carried Mark's guitar through the airport and slid next to it in the backseat of the truck. I carried his guitar on several ocassions, my self-awareness getting the better of me. I felt like I was guarding the medium of his wonderments, protecting Van Gogh's brushes and colors. So I was always surprised at Mark's absolute ease in letting it go.

During our drive we talked about his concert in San Francisco the night before. We talked about his upcoming tour dates, Ben Gibbard and his new life with Zooey, and Alan Sparhawk from Low. I pointed out that Mark name-dropped just about every western state but Utah in his new song "Third and Seneca," an oversight he would have to remedy in the future. There could have been little doubt after the first fifteen minutes that we loved his music and were thrilled to have him as our special guest.

But Mark seemed even more interested in us, our lives, our families. His questions were genuine, and throughout the rest of the weekend, we felt like he wanted to learn as much from us as he could. Our inquiries about his life and music were returned with equal interest in our experiences and viewpoints. Every conversation that we had together seemed to be filled with a searching import. And it was exhilarating for this devout follower.

Enjoy "All Mixed Up" from 1996's Songs for a Blue Guitar.

Sun Kil Moon: Part I: The Set List

The set list was perfect. Four new songs. An American folk song. An AC/DC cover. A Red House Painters favorite. Three songs from April. Four songs from Ghosts of the Great Highway. "Salvador Sanchez" played on demand, and "Glenn Tipton" played for my Dad. No words.

• Alesund
• Duk Koo Kim
• Moorestown
• Carry Me Ohio
• Third and Seneca
• Cindy
• You Are My Sun
• Church of the Pines
• Salvador Sanchez (open tuned) or (acoustic)
• Glenn Tipton
• All Mixed Up
• Heron Blue
• Rock N Roll Singer
• Blue Orchids

Five Things

The next few months are some of The D Man's favorite listening moments

• Vampire Weekend were fantastic in concert (again) and reminded The D Man that they are cooler, smarter, and better than just about any band you used to like. The pop-masters delivered too many great moments to count, but "M79" was a number worth remembering.
• Beach House opened the show with splendid atmospherics. The D Man loves Victoria LeGrand's voice (and her savage hair that needed a weapons permit). She sounded downright epic on the closer "10 Mile Stereo."
• Cannot help it--still love this song on a late-summer day.
• No, this is not my guitar / I'm bringing it to a friend. Best opening lines of any album this year. Exquisite song, too.
• Yes, he has a new EP. Yes, he has a new album coming out. Yes, you can have a sneak peek here.

Song of the Week

That is the coolest, spookiest, most haunting, transcendant thing I have seen in some time. So said the Rizzo after watching the ingenious, interactive multi-media experience that is the video for Arcade Fire's "We Used To Wait," from the band's third album The Suburbs. The short film from Chris Milk is called "The Wilderness Downtown," and it takes viewers on a nostalgic-winged journey to (and maybe away from) their childhood homes. Backed by an absolutely epic song from the Montreal collective, the video is deeply moving. After typing in 1386 East 600 South, The D Man cannot put into words how the song made him feel--too personal, too foreboding, too beautiful, all at once. Homesick and grateful to be gone. But I can share with you what I wrote to my former self: hang in there . . . it gets better.

Song of the Week

"Heirloom" is beautiful, haunting, enchanting, exciting--a secretive gift among the rococo pleasures of All Delighted People. For the centerpiece of ornamental wonder, enjoy the title track too.

A word on the EP from Mr. Stevens' bandcamp: "All Delighted People is built around two different versions of Sufjan's long-form epic ballad "All Delighted People," a dramatic homages to the Apocalypse, existential ennui, and Paul Simon's "Sound of Silence." Sounds delightful, yes! The song was originally workshopped on Sufjan's previous tour in the fall of 2009. Other songs on the EP include the 17-minute guitar jam-for-single-mothers "Djohariah," and the gothic piano ballad "The Owl and the Tanager," a live-show maintstay (and Debbie Downer if you ask us; what's it doing on a "Delighted" EP?)."

Classic D Man

Paul Simon has written The Great American Song on more than one ocassion. "Bridge Over Troubled Water." "Sound of Silence." "The Boxer." "Mrs. Robinson." (Just to name a few). He repeated the feat again in the 1980's with "Graceland," among others. But there is another oft-ignored song from that same fruitful period that we should probably add to the list.

Several years ago while delving into Simon's solo work, The D Man discovered this beautifully-penned song: "Hearts and Bones," from the 1983 album of the same name. Apparently, Simon himself thought it was one of the best songs he ever wrote. And rumors have it that it was about his soon-to-be wife Carrie Fisher, er, Princess Leia. The personal nature of this and other songs may be one of the primary reasons Simon and Garfunkel fought so arduously during their post-reunion recording sessions--eventually, Garfunkel left and Simon wiped his partner's vocals from several tracks, refashioning them into a solo production.

"One and one-half wandering Jews" may be the best opening line Simon wrote this side of "Hello darkness my old friend." The lyrical song followers our travelers as they wind through love and distance, accompanied by a graceful guitar line and a traditional verse-chorus verse-chorus climax. But Simon's bridgework is the real payoff: the suspension exquisitely flows to some sort of epiphany in response to the poignant question, "Tell me why you won't love me for who I am, where I am?" We are never certain if the answer to that question is enough, but it doesn't stop our lovers, if for a brief moment, from achieving something more.

Song of the Week

The Drums cashed in early on the recent indie beach-pop trend with "Let's Go Surfing." To accentuate the point, The Drums will be opening for Surfer Blood this fall, another band that rode the waves of a massive water anthem, "Swim (To Reach The End)." But The Drums may be more than a one-trick pony, or at least that is The D Man's first impression after listening to some of the new tracks from the band's anticipated self-titled debut. With strains of New Order, The Smiths, and the Cure, the band's synthy and glossy spaces are both minimalist (see "I'll Never Drop My Sword") and filled with hooks (see "Best Friend"). For maybe the biggest summer glow on the album, enjoy the video for "Forever and Ever (Amen)" below. Randy Travis would be proud.

Five Things

Five songs that grabbed my attention at the perfect time this past week. Thanks to talented people who make great music. The D Man is always appreciative.

• "The End of the World Is Bigger Than Love." We all know Jens Lekman doesn't really believe this. But after a painful breakup since his last proper album, Night Falls Over Kortedala, Jens is back with another bittersweet string and piano-soaked epic, saving your heartaches one soaring melody at a time.
• "Meloncholy Hill" is an utterly glossed-out electro track from Plastic Beach. Enjoy another cool video from your primate friends.
• "Guys Eyes" is another outstanding track from last year's Merriweather Post Pavillion. Check out the surf-and-skate vibe for its chilled-out video.
• "Admiral Fell Promises" has long been a staple at Kozelek shows and only recently became the title track for Sun Kil Moon's graceful new album. Enjoy a lovely live version.
• "Laundry Room" came on at the right time this weekend. Twilight. Mountain road. Pine trees. Perfect. Thanks to The Avett Brothers.