The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, Neko Case, Destroyer, etc.

(Rip and Kip)

The D Man and Mrs. D Man enjoyed a solid show on Friday night.  Familiar faces dotted the crowd*: Rip, Stark the Vinyl Shark, Hans, and Sjoblom found ways to stay hip and classy among the disposable-income throng.  Hearts were light; heads were clear.  The music was uplifting in that strange communal way that only pop music can deliver, sending your soul slightly aflutter.

• The Pains of Being Pure at Heart.  The D Man has been a big fan from the beginning, relishing the band's warm and fuzzy hooks, which drip with clever songwriting and saccharine melodies.  The Brooklyn-based band's first two albums, the self-titled debut and Belong, scored coveted spots in my year-end Top Ten.  The band's third album, this year's Days of Abandon, is another fine record, releasing some of the Flood-produced fuzz of their last album and settling into sparkling jangle pop circa 1987 (think a softer version of The Smiths, The Cure, and The Pastels).
• The band played a fun 45-minute set and mixed in songs from all three records.  We missed Peggy Wang on the keyboards, so their touring sound was noticeably leaner without the synth lines to undergird the buzzy guitars.  Highlights included new cuts "Simple and Sure," "Kelly," "Until the Sun Explodes," and "Eurydice," in addition to Belong's "Heart in Your Heartbreak" and the debut's "Young Adult Fiction."  Don't check me out, don't check me out, don't check me out ah-out out out!
• After the set, we said hello to Kip Berman, the band's lead singer and songwriter.  He has a distinctive voice--high and scattered--and an eagerly sincere presence that is unsurprising given the earnest music he creates.  Rip had him sign a record for Bones, and Kip flipped out when he learned that he was signing an autograph for a favorite baller.  "No way!  I love Brent Barry!"  I told Kip he is a great songwriter (he seemed genuinely appreciative) and that I already owned everything at the merch table.  He scrambled around and hooked me up with a free tote bag that will be perfect for taking to church:  The Pains of Being Pure at Heart is scrawled in big cursive letters.
• The New Pornographers.  The band name is still terrible.  But The D Man is a big fan of Dan Bejar aka Destroyer and his evocative, literate take on Big Questions and anything and everything.  Mrs. D Man loves Neko Case and her knockout vocal confidence.  With the Canadian super-collective (including the power-pop glue of A.C. Newman), there is something for everyone: melodic folk and country giving way to a jaunty sort of pop that is galvanized with a harmonic indie sheen.  Though the band is unlikely to be anyone's favorite group, and it likely hasn't equalled the individual output of some of its members, the seasoned musicianship offers plenty of excitement with their considerable talents.
• The vocal interplay was hands down the most enjoyable part of the set.  With such distinctive voices at work--Newman's clear tenor, Case's soaring magpie strength, and Bejar's slinky backstreet croon--it was amazing how tight their harmonies were, and almost every song was designed to showcase their vocal togetherness.
• Bejar moved on and off the stage in between songs, only performing when he was needed to provide vocals.  He couldn't be troubled with picking up a rhythm guitar or tambourine on other songs, and we wondered what he might be doing backstage in between special appearances.  The best track of the night was "Spidyr," which sounded like it could have been an outtake from Kaputt, especially when the band broke things down into an extended, groovy late-night synth jam.
• Other highlights included songs from this year's Brill Bruisers: "Champions of Red Wine" (Case's crystal vocals over the cascading laptop synths!), "Dancehall Domine," and "War on the East Coast"; "Moves" and "Crash Years" from Together and closer "Sing Me Spanish Techno" from Twin Cinema.

*The next day we learned via a series of texts (and underlying miscommunications) that Rizzo was, in fact, back from Vegas and game for a show.  We missed you, Robert!

25 Bands That I (More Than) Like

The D Man has been asked recently "what bands do you like" or "what type of music do you listen to?" Though I am certainly well versed in who I like and what I am listening to, I am usually at a loss of how to respond to such questions.  I figured that I need a quick link, a shorthand of sorts, that I could easily share with people.  Just check this out.  It explains enough.

I like a lot of artists (big circle).  I love many artists (smaller circle within big circle).  I adore and worship at the feet of a few artists; artists that capture my aesthetic imagination in profound and prolonged ways (smallest circle within the two bigger circles).  This list captures artists within my two smallest circles.

If you have not engaged with any of the following folks, you are simply missing out.  So in alphabetical order, and limited only to artists/bands that have been creative from 2000 to the present, here you go.  The short descriptions are hardly necessary.  Just listen and explore.*

• Arcade Fire.  Blame them (and this majestic song) for all of the awful wordless choruses from crap bands on modern rock radio.  Don't blame them for taking their earnest indie rock to the masses--it was a self-fulfilling prophecy bound to happen.
• Band of Horses.  Hello, we're Band of Horses, and we're from America.  Ben Bridwell's concert introduction (the best I've ever heard) concisely describes the band's reverb-turned-wide-open indie rock style.
• Beach House.  Victoria Legrand's vocals and keyboards mesmerize while Alex Scally's riddling guitars round out the Baltimore band's swirling, dreamy confections.
• Bon Iver.  From the woods of Wisconsin (For Emma, Forever Ago) to wide-screen continental grandeur (Bon Iver), Justin Vernon's first two albums with his formidable band are already American classics.
• Daft Punk.  Robots?  I'm in.
• Destroyer.  Kaputt is one of my favorite albums of all time.  Desert island stuff for sure, even if it takes you through the backrooms of the world.  Enter through the exit, and exit through the entrance when you can.
• The Flaming Lips.  She's a black-belt in karate!  Whoo whoo!
• Fleet Foxes.  These sly guys do throwback better than almost all of the throwbacks.
• Jens Lekman.  This sensitive Swedish troubadour blends heartbreak and humor like no one else.  Receiving haircuts at illicit Iraqi barbershops.  Making hospital runs after missing the avocado with a knife.  Rating women while driving dilapidated European cars.  The splendid list goes on and on.  So ask yourself, what would Jens do?
• Kanye West. Even if his more recent fare (or public persona) is not your thing, it is difficult to deny the soul-bared pleasures of The College Dropout, Late Registration, and Graduation.
• Kings of Convenience.  Two soft voices, blended in perfection.  Easily one of my all-time favorite musical endeavors.
• Modest Mouse.  Hardscrabble vocal theatrics and brilliantly off-kilter guitars have always accentuated Isaac Brock's near nihilistic poetry.  Dark tragicomedy hailing from the Northwest.
• My Morning Jacket.  Nothing quite like Jim James in a poncho, shredding on his flying-V.  Have I mentioned that "Magheetah" and "Golden" may be two of the best open-road tracks of all time?
• M83.  Starry-eyed electro-pop that is gloriously intertwined with American nostalgia and optimism.  Anthony Gonzalez's records have been a staggering achievement for a small-town French kid.
• The National.  Stay inside our rosy-minded fuzz for days.  Four elegant rock albums in a row: Alligator.  Boxer.  High Violet.  Trouble Will Find Me.
• Radiohead.  From the millennial masterpiece Kid A to the beautiful colors of In Rainbow, Thom Yorke and friends would still be rock legends for their post-2000 output alone, to say nothing of the band's titanic 90s albums The Bends and OK Computer. 
• Ryan Adams.  The D Man is tired of hearing about Adams's prolific output and inability to self-edit.  The man is a brilliant singer-songwriter.  Please keep it coming.
• Sigur Ros.  One can only use the same descriptors that thousands of others have used: otherworldly, forlorn, beautiful.
• Sufjan Stevens.  When I first picked up Illinois, these piano lines kept me up the entire night.  I couldn't sleep.  I rolled around in my bed.  So mystified and thrilled, so beholden to a monumentally original record.  And I was receiving chills even a dozen listens in to "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!"  (I should also mention my early love affair with the quiet folk hymns of Seven Swans, arguably the most overlooked (and finest) Christian recording of the new millennium.  And then there was that gloriously cathartic Age of Adz concert!
• Sun Kil Moon.  Mark Kozelek is currently the best singer-songwriter alive.  Ghosts of the Great Highway.  Tiny Cities.  April.  Admiral Fell Promises.  Benji.  His lyrical artistry seems to have no end.
• Vampire Weekend.  Pure pop genius.  You've heard these guys. 
• The War on Drugs.  Lost in the Dream is one of the best American rock records of the past 15 years.
• The White Stripes.  In the event you have forgotten: it's fact that I'm a seventh son.
• Wilco.  I discovered Being There and Summerteeth post-2000; I enjoyed the accessible racket of dumped-by-a-big-label Yankee Hotel Foxtrot; and I experienced the band at their height during a Columbus concert (with Barndog) for A Ghost Is Born.
• Wild Nothing.  I have been listening to Jack Tatum's band (seriously non-stop) since the release of 2011's Gemini and 2012's Nocturne.  Wild Nothing is the sound of the band I never formed.  Dreamy.  Sepia-toned.  Perfect.

*Sincere apologies to Andrew Bird, Bat for Lashes, Death Cab for Cutie, Iron & Wine, The Pains of Being Pure At Heart, Josh Rouse, and numerous others.

Five Things

(Jens)

Still waiting for the perfect fall album to drop.  Excited to check out Interpol on Friday night.  In the meantime, enjoy some choice cuts below.

• Jens Lekman just dropped a surprise mixtape with three original tracks and some other cool tunes.  The sensitive Swede takes "WWJD" to an unsurprising conclusion.  What would Jens do?
• Really enjoying The Moon Rang Like A Bell by Hundred Waters.  Maybe this is the perfect fall album.  Check out the nocturnal "Xtalk."
• Digging "The House of Yes" from Mr. Twin Sister's new joint.
• Apparently the party is over and everyone is coming back down to earth.  Check out Bryan Ferry's vocals on "Johnny and Mary," an excellent track from Todd Terje's debut album, It's Album Time.
• Enjoy the video for Interpol's "All the Rage Back Home" from El Pintor.

Five Things

(The D Man, Bones, Rip, and Rizzo)

Bones & Bros 2014 went down in Hermosa Beach over the long weekend.  The D Man, Bones, Rip, and Rizzo spent plenty of time chilling in the water and listening to some great tunes.  We hit the Spazmatics show and had a riot.  We watched Bones do some shredding on his guitar, though he is too modest to let on that he has some serious chops.  And his ability to ad lib lyrics was spot on.  He threw shade at The D Man with some personalized guitar ditties that questioned my ability to swim outside the lifeguard's purview and sit in an airplane exit row.  But I took it in stride because, well, I'm The D Man.

• Check out the perfect video for the perfect opening track from Lost in the Dream.
• Enjoy Ryan Adams performing his fine new track "Wrecking Ball" on Fallon.
• Dan Bejar aka Destroyer aka The D Man's lyrical/musical savant leads out on the new track "War on the East Coast."  He chills/walks in his long coat while A.C. Newman lip syncs in the video.
• If you have time, it is well worth watching The Kate Bush Story: Running Up That Hill.  The enigmatic Bush just performed live in England for the first time in 35 years.
• Mac Demarco's Salad Days keeps bringing The D Man back.

Five Things

• Ryan Adams' self-titled album is due in September.  Check out his video with that creepy Elvira chick.
• Caribou's new joint is already sounding downright delicious.  Check out the title track "Our Love."
• Vampire Weekend discuss making the band's excellent second album, Contra.
• Check out Arcade Fire's video for the weirded-out sock hop, "You Already Know."
• Watch a fan tribute video for "I Watched the Film The Song Remains the Same," a song that Pitchfork just named one of the 100 best tracks of the decade.  Tellingly, the gloriously hazy strummer may not even rank among the best five songs on Benji.

Song of the Week

Desertshore's second all-instrumental album, Migrations of Glass, is another beautiful collection of songs from the Bay Area.  Featuring Red House Painters/Sun Kil Moon guitarist Phil Carney and classical pianist Chris Connolly, the tracks stretch out, unhurried, with lovely little surprises in texture. Their last album, Mark Kozelek and Desertshore, was chock-filled with their expert playing, but it was always going to be overshadowed by Kozelek's inspired lyrical presence.  Here, Carney and Connolly express their languid musical ideas without the heft or expectations from their longtime collaborator.

Check out "Until Morning Comes" and "Forevermore" right here.

Song of the Week

Spoon just dropped a new album called They Want My Soul, the band's first full-length since 2010's Transference.  Check out the bouncy groove of first single "Inside Out."  The D Man is listening and liking.  A lot.

Song of the Week

In a summer devoid of great jams, it is nice to know that JT can still spin gold.  Sounding more like the summer of 1994, "Not A Bad Thing" could have cozied right up next to SWV, TLC, and Boyz II Men.  Check out a live performance on Fallon.  Feeling left out by not catching his current 20/20 Experience Tour.

Several Things

(The Antlers)

• The D Man, Rip, and Rizzo enjoyed The Antlers late-night atmospherics at the Urban Lounge. The set was heavy with tracks from this year's Familiars, with some choice cuts from Burst Apart and Hospice.  Two take-aways.  First, Peter Silberman carries the vocal torch with aplomb; his falsetto is full and unforced, and his lower register shines.  Second, multi-instrumentalist Darbi Cicci was impressive, and his work on the lead trumpet throughout the set was superb, if not the highlight of the entire show.

• Mark Kozelek released the excellent Live at Biko, recorded in Milan on April 6th.  The set primarily features tracks from Benji, Perils from the Sea, and the Desertshore album.  Check out set-opener "Gustavo" and the finest song ever about that girl from the short bus, "Micheline." The album is worth picking up just for Koz's in-between song banter.

• Read a metaphysical discussion of graffiti as it relates to the Kurt Vile mural in Philly.  It is worth your time.
• Ryan Adams is dropping a self-titled album in September.  Enjoy "Gimme Something Good."



• Lost in the Dream may be the best cycling-up-the-mountain music of all time.  Indeed, The D Man may have proved that maxim over the July Fourth weekend.  Check out a live version of "Red Eyes" at the Primavera Festival.

• Bon Iver has a new song for Zach Braff's forthcoming film, Wish I Was Here.  Check out "Heavenly Father."
• Jack White still wants you to listen to him.  Check out the video for "Lazaretto."

• Twin Shadow will be starting off his Eclipse Tour at the Twilight Concert series.  Check out the new song "To The Top."

• Hamilton Leithauser  (the Walkmen frontman) has some solid tracks on his debut solo album.  Check out "11 O'Clock Friday Night" from Black Hours.

Song of the Week

Dan Snaith is a chilled-out electro wizard of sorts.  The D Man still loves the lo-fi homemade stuff like "Jacknuggeted" when he still went by Manitoba.  Since then, under the moniker of Caribou, Snaith has taken his productions to ultra-deluxe places.  Digging this new groove from the forthcoming Our Love.

Erlend Oye

It has been five years since the Kings of Convenience released the even-better-with-age Declaration of Dependence.  The Norwegian duo takes their time between records, but thankfully the musical kaleidoscope that is Erlend Oye will be gracing us with his second solo album since 2003's Unrest.

In 2012, Oye moved from Norway to Italy.  It didn't take him long to discover the goldmine of Italian music of the 60s and 70s and start taking inspiration from its arrangements and style of melodies.  From Oye's own Bubble Records:  "Neither did it take him long to take inspiration from the lives of the people around him in the Sicilian town of Siracusa, his new home, and learn enough the language to write this song, "La Prima Estate," his first song in Italian, which centers around his friend Lucia and her day of graduation.  Recorded in Berlin, backed by the musicians of his other band The Whitest Boy Alive on bass, drums, and synthesizer, Erlend plays the electric guitar and mandolin, while new face Victor Abrahamsson is responsible for the track's signature flute melodies.


After the recent Italian detour, The D Man has learned that Oye will be dropping Legao later this year, and English album which was recorded in Reykjavik with Icelandic reggae band Hjalmer.  Check out a preview of the track "Fence Me In."

Song of the Week

The world is a colder place without your mother.  Though Memorial Day was marked by love and remembrance, we recognized again how hard it will be for Mrs. D Man to live without her dear mother.  On that same note, Mark Kozelek is already dreading that moment when his steadfast mother will leave him.  Check out a recent live performance at SXSW of "I Can't Live Without My Mother's Love" from the instant-classic Benji.

Song of the Week

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart just released their fine third album, Days of Abandon.  After the Flood-produced crunch of Belong, the Brooklyn band's second straight album that made The D Man's Top Ten, Kip Berman and Peggy Wang have softened the corners of their eminently catchy twee-gaze.  Check out the great video for first single "Simple and Sure."

Matt Pond

Matt Pond is celebrating the 10th anniversary of Emblems by playing the album from front to back.  The D Man and Mrs. D Man had a blast on Saturday night catching the show.  After eight albums and constant touring, Pond is now a seasoned front man; his vocals are strong and dexterous and he can annunciate his lyrics over the top of the music, allowing listeners to catch each word supported by his slight gravelly tone.  We were thoroughly impressed with his performance.  And he was cool enough to chat with fans, take pictures, and even hang out with the crowd during the enjoyable opening set from The Lighthouse and the Whaler.

Emblems is arguably Pond's best album (along with its 2005 follow-up Several Arrows Later); the melodic guitar-pop songs are driven by Pond's observational lyrics and accented by astute cello work.  Pond grew up in northern New Hampshire, the son of a minister, and Emblems evokes distant summers and loves among the trees and streets of his home.  On the current tour, Pond is backed by long-time guitarist Chris Hansen, bassist-keyboardist Tierna Tough, drummer David Montague, and cellist Shawn Alpay.  The band rocked harder in person, but this is still accessible and earnest pop music at its core.

Pond recently described his fifteen years of album-making and touring:

"I think I just write a ton of songs, for some reason or another.  In one way, I feel lucky and in some ways it's like a burden.  I never really thought I'd do this for a living.  I thought I'd be some kind of lazy history professor, so this is a weird thing.  I just keep writing songs and keep the best ones and throw out the clunkers.  I mean, we might come out with another album this year.  I don't know.  You gotta get some kind of . . . it becomes how you live your life.  When you make an album, you go on tour and all of that, so it's a part of my life.  I just don't know anything else."

Mrs. D Man also thought Pond was handsome.  So there was that.

• KC.  It is always interesting when a band sounds heavier and harder in person, but they still manage to retain their melodic essence.  Such was the case with songs like KC.
• Closest (Look Out).  Just a great power-pop song.
• Lily Two.
• Bring on the Ending.  Pond seemed to hit full vocal stride while dealing with this different time signature.
• The Butcher.  The album's sonic centerpiece.  The song's warm immediacy and cello lines turn into something desperate.  The guitars and cello were driving.
• New Hampshire.  Perhaps the band's signature song, "New Hampshire" was featured on the indie-rock soundtrack of the Fox series The O.C. (which apparently favored the sweet melancholia over geographic accuracy).  I'm going home / back to New Hampshire / I'm so determined / to lay in lakes / and see my sisters / I will hit my brother / and hold my mother.
• Claire.
• Summer (Butcher Two).  The D Man has always loved the lazy nostalgia of these romantic memories.
• East Coast E.
• Last Song.
• Grave's Disease.  Definitely one of the show's highlights.  The cello shined on this lovely number.
• Close (KC Two).

Encore

• Halloween.  The encore consisted of four great songs from other Pond albums.  The opening track from Several Arrows Later has always been a favorite.  Strangely, I have often listened to Pond records while working out.  So I have hit the treadmill with "Halloween" on more than one occasion.  Heard it's modern to be stupid.  You don't need to talk to look good.
• Measure 3.
• Love to Get Used.  This song just makes me happy.  Catchy and unadorned.  I give my love to get used!
• Starting.

Song of the Week

Check out the lovely video for Elbow's song "My Sad Captains," another fine track from The Taking Off And Landing of Everything.  Similar in tone to "Lippy Kids" on Build A Rocket Boys!, Guy Harvey pulls some nostalgic strings and sings like a sad-eyed British angel.  When are we going to have him sing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir?

Damon Albarn

Blur.  Gorillaz.  You know this guy.  The uber-talented Brit recently dropped his first solo album, Everyday Robots, a somewhat downtempo affair musing on our isolation and interconnection via technology.  Though he touches on some themes of alienation, this is not a screed.  Albarn is a brilliant modernist and demonstrates his artisty with an iPad throughout the videos for "Lonely Press Play" and "Heavy Seas of Love."

Song of the Week

The D Man has been buried in trial prep for a month.  I feel anxious because I haven't even shared stories about Paul Stimon & Sting, Kip Winger, and Real Estate.  April will be better, I promise.  My head is down and I'm cranking.  But after I come up for air in just ten more days, I cannot wait to crank down my windows and play Lost in the Dream.  Good hell, this album is superb.

Song of the Week

Elbow drop their sixth studio album in March.  Check out "Fly Boy Blue/Lunette" from The Take Off and Landing of Everything.  Crisp.  Clear-throated.  Decidedly British.

Song of the Week

Sun Kil Moon will officially release Benji next week, the sixth studio album from Mark Kozelek's alter ego.  (Enjoy an interview here).  Having already lived with the record for the last month, the early reviews have been unsuprising to The D Man, as critics have been justifiably astonished by the record's arresting, deeply-personal artistry.

Benji is powerful, poignant, funny, and devastating.  No doubt "Ben's My Friend" is an incredible closer, and "Richard Ramirez Died of Natural Causes" is a killer track, but man, "Carissa" has been hanging with The D Man for weeks.

Song of the Week

 

The D Man raved about Days, Real Estate's excellent 2011 debut and certified Top Ten album.  With luminous guitars and reverb-drenched harmonies, the New Jersey band seems to be driving at the essence of whatever indie-rock is supposed to be, especially on lyrically and musically deft tracks like "It's Real."

Real Estate will release Atlas in March.  Check out the video for first single "Talking Backwards," another shimmery little guitar ruby.

Song of the Week

The War on Drugs released two excellent spins in 2011, and The D Man simply wore out the full-length Slave Ambient and the EP Future Weather.  Adam Granduciel is a wide-open guitar whiz like his mate Kurt Vile, and the close friends and former bandmates share the same penchant for exploring the alternative side of the Traveling Wilbury road.

The Philly band is set to release their third album, Lost in the Dream.  The D Man has been stoking out on "Red Eyes," an incredible track that stirs up massive, open-road guitar dreams.  Don't forget about this song later in the year when you need to roll your windows down and exorcise your winter demons.

The D Man's Top Twenty Albums of 2013

2013 was a great year in music.  Similar to 2000, 2003, and 2007, the year teemed with excellent albums.  Big and important artists--indie and mainstream--released big and important records. Vampire Weekend released an American pop classic.  Arcade Fire hit #1 on the charts with the dark and dancey Reflektor.  The National made it four great albums in a row with the velvety arrangements of Trouble Will Find Me.  Even established and successfully arty bands like Sigur Ros and The Flaming Lips defied conventions and dropped potent records deep into their respective careers.  And Daft Punk, of course, ruled the world.

Kanye West made headlines with the most provocative record of his career.  Where his earlier records used deftly curated soul samples for musical uplift, Yeezus used them for pulverizing confrontations.  Though the production values, song structures, and lyrical themes are forcefully rendered, the record's relentless assault proved to be too much.  The D Man has always balanced his appreciation of aesthetic greatness with that most basic of pursuits: the pleasure of listen after listen.  The records on this list settle into that sweet spot of praiseworthy (even challenging) artistic merit and accessible enjoyment.

Speaking of the polarizing West, sometimes The D Man hears from well-meaning people that there is no good music anymore.  The music on the radio is trash and the lyrics are offensive, etcetera etcetera etcetera.  One odd duck even told me that there has not been a decent record since The Beatle's Rubber Soul.  My response: you have no clue where to look.  Let me help you.

The D Man agrees that mainstream radio is a wasteland of over-sexed, uninteresting, and, yes, offensive music.  But if you are looking there for artistic or moral guideposts, you will be lost and left wanting.  Notwithstanding such deplorable distractions, the world is still alive with beautiful human noise.  Go exploring.  Check the interweb.  Read some magazines.  Visit a record store.  Click on this blog.  Ask for directions.  Trust me, there are many artists who make them like they used to, and their music can augment your aesthetic and emotional sensibilities.

If you proudly limit yourself to Mozart or show tunes, you are not sitting on higher moral ground.  The Western world and its music wasn't exactly pure when Eine kleine Nachtmusik or Oklahoma premiered (slavery or Nazis anyone?).  Mozart had multiple affairs with his pupils and Broadway has long been a den of iniquity, so can their fruit possibly be good?  What makes a classical chamber piece or an overwrought musical number more meaningful or dignified than, say, The National's "I Should Live in Salt?"  In my mind, such cultural and moral assumptions are quaint, misplaced, or uninformed.  Notable artists have created superb music in every age and in every format.  George Handel's Messiah is a religious and devotedly Christian masterpiece.  But so is Sufjan Stevens's lesser known, quiet folk album Seven Swans.  They were created more than 260 years apart by singular artists in tune with inspiration.

If you have decided that you can live without contemporary music, there is nothing inherently wrong with your decision.  Just know that your life will be a little less interesting.  This year alone, you would have missed out on the pure ecstasy of a Daft Punk track, the melodic wordplay and striking originality of Vampire Weekend's "Step," the devastating (and danceable!) Reflektor, or the instrumental awesomeness of Sigur Ros.  If you are a Believer like The D Man, you probably feel strongly that the world has been lovingly arrayed for your benefit and enjoyment.  Don't stick your head in the sand because you may accidentally run into an awful Miley Cyrus song.  Keep your head up.  Be open.  Pay attention.  And you just might hear the beautiful human noise.

There is a new documentary about Bill Watterson, the creator of Calvin & Hobbes.  It reminded me of his final comic strip in the splendid series.  His philosophical and aesthetic outlook sums up best what The D Man is trying to say.

1. Random Access Memories / Daft Punk

If love is the answer, you're home.  -"Touch"

Dad, can we listen to the two mysterious robots?  When Colin slipped into the car and asked me this question, I felt exhilarated.  My six year-old son would ask for Daft Punk on dozens of ocassions as my boys piled into the back seat, and it became quite clear that the global-dominating French duo would provide our soundtrack for the year, our family album of smooth and dancey disco-funk.  By delivering love and balming heartbreak throughout interstellar space, the robots seemed to open up our collective future possibilities.  We were connected.  My boys (and I) simply loved these songs.

The robots are sad!  Yes, son, they are sad, proving that even the most hard-wired among us can get down in the mouth, can sometimes feel like losers in the game of love.

Why is he talking?  That is weird.  Yes, it is weird, which is one of the reasons the synth pioneer's spoken word is so affecting as it precedes the record's most clever drop: "My name is Giovanni Giorgio.  But everybody calls me Giorgio."  Cue the laser-tight synthesizers running into the distance.

This song makes me think about when I was little.  It makes me sad.  The techno theater of "Touch," with its soliloquies, its children's choir swells, its love is the answer message, developed into the ridiculously incredible track that intrigued my boys the most.  They debated about the song's meaning.  They wondered at singer Paul Williams's sadness (and couldn't possibly know that he had long ago written two of The D Man's favorite songs).  A few weeks ago I turned around as Williams finished the song with his vocal introspection.  Colin was crying in the back seat.  "Touch!  Sweet touch!  You've almost convinved me I'm real."  Touching, indeed!

Another story.  One summer evening I came home and popped my head out the back door.  The sun was setting and it was perfect.  Dylan and Colin were swinging together on our little playground. They were singing "Doin' It Right."  Dylan was repeating the robot refrain: "Everybody will be dancing and be doin' it right!"  Colin was singing the Panda Bear part: "If you lose your way tonight that's how you know the magic's right!"  They were performing the entire duet with surprising accuracy.

Question: what other record this year could produce such a magical moment?

The D Man could wax on about Nile Rodgers's glittery guitars saving the planet, could break down Pharell's in-the-zone performances, could delight in the future moment when my boys will finally understand the gloriously innocuous double-entendre of "Get Lucky," could celebrate the pristine production and the $2 million it took to record the album in an age where such studio investments have almost entirely disappeared, could bemoan the meathead, sexist, and artless state of most EDM and house music, or could praise two anonymous French dudes for breathing life back into music in 2013.  There is no need to do any of that, of course

From the backseat, Colin summed up the record best:  When I listen to Daft Punk,  I feel cool.

2. Modern Vampires of the City / Vampire Weekend

Modern Vampires of the City is an American pop-music classic. Vampire Weekend's glorious third album is arguably stronger than their first two albums, which was almost inconceivable given the strength of those records and the feeling in some quarters that they had exhausted their available musical avenues.  Man, were the unbelievers wrong.

Ezra Koenig, Rostam Batmanglij, Chris Baio, and Chris Tomsen are no longer college kids and their arch insights have given way to arresting ruminations, yielding to heavier subjects like the thin-lines in long-term relationships, the tenuous nature of (un)belief, and the creeping fear of aging and death.  And they manage to unpack these burdens while remaining the most accessible and enjoyable pop band on earth.  The album's target demographic is broad, and in no particular order: suburbanites, New Yorkers, aging hippies, Yiddish professors, kids, preppy college students, Orthodox Jews, lapsed Catholics, faithful Mormons, housewives, and girls who want to marry Koenig.

Koenig's incisive lyrics are optimistic, clear-eyed, and deeply troubled. But as arty as his observations sound, and as penetrating as his eye-brow raising Jewish doubt may be, the band's underlying music is the saving grace, a perfect blend of heady populism and high-brow accessibility.  As usual, the melodies are moneymakers. And Batmanglij's and Baio's rhythm section is consistently creative.  With the record's meticulously produced bass, drums, and keyboards, the album is both spare and maximal, with everything coated in studio bubble wrap.  Significantly, the lead Afro-guitars from the first two records are almost entirely missing--Koenig doesn't even play guitar on the album tracks--yet the band simultaneously reinvents and retains the Vampire Weekend sound.

So where to start scratching the surface? 

How about the gorgeous two-part harmonies during nothing-like-it opener "Obvious Bicycle."  (Are you listening high school a capella teachers?). How about the unbelievers bound to the tracks of the train, wondering what holy water contains a little drop, little drop for me? ("Unbelievers").  What about the French Revolution harpsichord synths entombed within boombox and walkman, and the vivid love/rap song complete with references to Angkor Wat, the Communist Manifesto, Modest Mouse, and the Resurrection ("Step").  Or perhaps the warped barbershop baby-baby-baby during a punny song about dying young ("Diane Young").  I suppose we could start with the joyful bounce of bass on "Everlasting Arms," and those infectious guitars forever reminding Paul Simon that he missed out on writing this one. 

Of course, there is the stunning novel-as-song "Hannah Hunt", detailing the cross-country disintegration between longtime companions--weeping willows, hidden eyes, and Santa Barbara lead to a torn up New York Times, a brilliant piano sendoff, and the narrator's final exclamation, an album centerpiece of sorts: if I can't trust you then damn it, Hannah.  There's no future.  There's no answer.  Though we live on the U.S. dollar, you and me, we've got our own sense of time.

Or we could dive into more detail and discuss the perfectly-placed spoken word on the frenzied "Finger Back:"

Sing next year in Jerusalem
You know, the one at
W. 103rd and Broadway?
Cue this Orthodox girl fell in love
With the guy at the falafel shop
And why not?
Should she have averted her eyes and
Just stared at the laminated poster
of the Dome of the Rock?

Or maybe we turn to the hopeful, searching pleas in the soaring harmonies of "Worship You:"

We worshiped you
Your red right hand
Won't we see you once again?
In foreign soil, in foreign land
Who will guide us through the end?

But then we should finally consider "Ya Hey," a play on Yahweh, that inscrutable Old Testament prankster, where Koenig wrestles with His seemingly strange games and the dissolving belief of modern Zion and Babylon:

Through the fire and through the flames
You won't even say your name
Only "I am that I am"
But who could ever live that way?
Ya hey, ya hey, ya hey

Does he find some sort of musical solace?  Perhaps that brief moment where

outside the tents
on the festival grounds
as the air began to cool
and the sun went down
my soul swooned as I faintly heard
the sound of you spinning "Israelites" into
"19th Nervous Breakdown."

One thing is certain: during my first run through the album, I swooned.  And knew that I was listening to an all-time classic record.  Whether the realization dawned during the piano in "Hannah Hunt" or the guitar breakdown in "Everlasting Arms," I cannot be sure now.  But it was an engrossing feeling, a self-aware recognition of timeless pop genius unfolding in real time.  Perhaps other listeners experienced the same sensation with Bridge Over Troubled Water, Pet Sounds, Rumours, or Graceland.  Believe it.

3. Trouble Will Find Me / The National

Trouble Will Find Me is a flawless collection of elegant rock songs.  With slow burns and gradual builds, private torches and communal liftoffs, the record is all devils and grace.  The thirteen tracks are cohesive and impeccably sequenced, an exquisite exercise in dour transcendence.  And the songwriting is so rich with melody and world-weary texture, it would almost be insufferable were it not so velvety.

If you are counting at home, The National have now recorded four excellent/classic albums in a row: the elliptical rock of Alligator, the masterful apartment stories of Boxer, the brooding grandeur of High Violet, and the private demon theater of Trouble Will Find Me.  Like the band's previous albums, this record is a musical grower, slowly revealing layer after layer of personal paralysis and heartache.  And seven months after its release, the record is still growing and taking shape and making a case as the band's very best to date.

To spare you from my overwrought praise, I will simply point you to my review of the band's superlative summer concert.  I cannot sum up the The National in 2013 any better.  But I will share with you some of my favorite lines from the record, which display Matt Berninger's wry empathy, caustic wit, and heartwrenching monologues.

• I should live in salt for leaving you behind.
• Every day I start so great and then the sunlight dims.  The less I look, the more I see the python's in the limbs.  I do not know what's wrong with me, the sour is in the cut.  When I walk into a room I do not light it up.
• And if you want to see me cry, play Let It Be or Nevermind.
• I see you rushing down.  Tell me how to reach you.  I see you rushing down.  What did Harvard teach you?
• I am in your arms.  I wish someone would take my place, can't face heaven all heavenfaced.
• Oh, when I lift you up you feel like a hundred times yourself.  I wish everybody knew what's so great about you.  Oh, but your love is such a swamp.  You don't think before you jump, and I said I wouldn't get sucked in.  This is the last time.
• Graceless.  I'm trying, but I'm gone.  Through the glass again, just come and find me.  God loves everybody, don't remind me.  I took the medicine and I went missing.  Just let me hear your voice.  Just let me listen.
• Grace.  Put the flowers you find in a vase.  If you're dead in the mind it will brighten the place.  Don't let them die on the vine, it's a waste.  Grace.
• I can't blame you for losing your mind for a little while, so did I.
• Tried to call you from the party, it's full of punks and cannonballers.
• All the L.A. women fall asleep while swimming.  I got paid to fish them out then one day I lost the job.
• You didn't see me I was falling apart.  I was a white girl in a crowd of white girls in the park.  You didn't see me I was falling apart.  I was a television version of a person with a broken heart.
• They can all just kiss off in the air.

4. Reflektor / Arcade Fire

On Arcade Fire's fourth album Reflektor, the band gazes across the gulf and explores the emotional terrain at the edge of life and death, that great chasm before our universal change.  Though the views prove difficult, even elusive, the music drives forward into the darkness, undaunted.

Paul said we see through a glass, darkly.  Reflektor grapples with the hazy and distorted image coming back, lyrically and musically exploring themes of death, obfuscation, and modernity.  Of course, when a rock band is as earnest as Arcade Fire, there is bound to be backlash.  Some critics have maligned their overzealousness or asexuality.  So you want detached irony?  Pavement broke up fifteen years ago. You want sexual energy? The (faux) prowess of Kings of Leon will do just fine.  Arcade Fire is still a band for serious-thinking people, and if you would rather drink and score, go listen to Jet. 

Sure, Reflektor may not share the same heft as The Suburb's holistic and epic post-suburban narrative.  And the record may not share the same heart-ripping urgency of Funeral.  But the band is too good to ever get comfortable, and Reflektor takes real risks, resulting in numerous righteous-sounding and forward-thinking tracks.  It is the sound of a band charging at the vanguard and brimming with unusual and vivid ideas.  Most of the tracks throb with an insular and weird danceable energy, the cavernous bass lines pounding deep and mysterious throughout the record's entirety.

The opening title track is one of the year's great dance-rock tracks, introducing bongos and Bowie into the band's canon.  In Kierkegaard's The Present Age, he discusses the "reflective age," a troubling self-absorption at the expense of passionate action. In our age of digital narcissism, the Danish philosopher's words ring through the years when Win Butler sings it is all "just a reflection of a reflection of a reflection." And it is a perilous proposition "to fall in love, on a stage, in a reflective age," especially when being viewed through a camera lens, or worse, being terrorized by heads buried in phones.

"We Exist" follows with an anthemic rebuttal that would have easily fit on Neon Bible.  Then things get even more interesting with the next four songs on Side One, as the band demonstrates their ability to thread together wild and disparate moments.  "Flashbulb Eyes" is a scuzzy island jam, a twisted Haitian voodoo club mix, while "Here Comes the Night Time" moves clubgoers even further toward doom, hailing the impending twilight with dread-filled bass and steel drums. "Normal Person" blisters the dispassionate conformist with Dinosaur Jr.-style riffs and "You Already Know" lights up a weirded-out sock hop.  This is not the usual fare that reaches #1 on the Billboard charts.

The record's themes climax with Side Two's triumvirate of "It's Never Over (Hey Orpheus)," "Afterlife," and "Supersymmetry."  The album's cover art features Rodin's sculpture Orpheus and Eurydice, and their tragic love is emblematic of our terrible parting.  We stood beside a frozen sea / I saw you out in front of me /  Reflected light / A hollow moon / Oh Orpheus, Eurydice / It's over too soon. 

On "Afterlife," Butler resists death and tries to pierce the veil, but it proves to be the darkest glass.

Afterlife, I think I saw what happens next
It was just a glimpse of you, like looking through a window
Or a shallow sea
Could you see me?

If peace is to follow between now and then, perhaps it is part of some larger design, which is hinted at by the gentle pulse of closer "Supersymmetry."  But even then, the sting of death is omnipresent:  I know you're living in my mind / It's not the same as being alive.

We want connection in our fractured world, that divine spark to manifest itself, but the smoke-filled skies are deeply disconcerting.  Reflektor holds a mirror up to our modern age (the preachers! the technology! the disconnection!) and the image is frightening.  Are we connecting to the real thing? Are we connecting to each other?  And will we ever see our loved ones again?  Sometimes Arcade Fire's troubled agnosticism reveals an underlying desire to believe, and it is possible the band uses their songs to combat the riddling fear, hoping to ward off the inevitable.  But even if the stars simply wink out, make no mistake: Arcade Fire will be playing well into the darkness.

5. Mark Kozelek

No songwriter had a better 2013 than Mark Kozelek.  The original songs on his two collaborations with Jimmy LaValle and Desertshore are prime examples of his revered songcraft--and twenty-one additional reasons why he is a songwriter's songwriter.  As his canon evolves and expands, it is too easy to place him among our very best.

Mark Kozelek never seemed like one for electronic music.  As a master of the open-tuned electric and nylon-string guitar, Koz surprised longtime listeners when he laid down his axe and collaborated with synth-symphonist Jimmy LaValle, best known for his work as The Album Leaf.  Strangely enough, however, the partnership proved fruitful for both artists, as it teases out some of the most interesting writing of Koz's career and breathes new life into LaValle's music.

The songs on Perils from the Sea are like electronic tone poems, where Koz shares deeply personal observations and experiences over LaValle's intricate keyboards and drum machines.  Koz's stories are delivered by a kind of slowcore rapping, if there is such a thing, and he uses the open-ended soundscapes to jumpstart his melancholic musings.  Koz pulls no punches--"like when Manny Pacquiao had an easy night"--and one critic compares his impressive lyrical flow to the hard-hitting Rakim, a godfather of unceasing vocal runs.  (The extensive lyrics to Perils are hardly contained on a fold-out poster).  Though Koz's world-weary cadences are almost lackadaisical, there is a powerful force produced by his counterpunching, especially when his out-of-vogue mastery of rhyme and meter seems so spontaneous.

Listeners have glimpsed Koz's inner world before, most recently during his autobiographical and off-the-cuff yarns on Sun Kil Moon's Among the Leaves.  But his unflinching admissions here have never been so direct, so heartbreaking.  On "What Happened to My Brother" he sings about a family member's isolation and addiction, the heartache of their "first violin" going solo.  On "1936" he confesses his foolish boyhood mistakes that broke his mother's heart.  On "Ceiling Gazing" he lies awake at night and ruminates about his grandfather's death, his sister's divorce, and his girlfriend's companionship.  Throughout the record, he discusses familial discord, tragedy, and death with piercing poetics.  Koz loves the powerful closer, and The D Man was floored by "Somehow the Wonder of Life Prevails," a fitting thematic capstone to his twenty-five years of songwriting.

Perils from the Sea is a nocturnal collection that is best rendered by headphones.  Listeners can pick up the subtle nuances of LaValle's electronic arrangements.  (The Jonsi-produced In A Safe Place is still one of The D Man's all-time favorite listens).  And listeners can fully appreciate Koz's vocals, which he recorded and turned around within a short time of hearing LaValle's tracks, sometimes within twenty-four hours.  Despite this unlabored approach during their Postal Service-like recording process, the songs are fully formed.  "Caroline" is one of the best songs Koz has recently written.  And "Gustavo" is one of the best songs of the year, period, a funny and moving tale of the illegal immigrant that Koz hired to fix up his house.  "Gustavo" and "You Missed My Heart" also proved to be revelations as a live acoustic experience, easily two of his finest moments in his recent slate of solo shows.

 

*******

On "Livingstone Bramble," a Crazyhorse-style guitar churn, Mark Kozelek sings about his day. Livingstone Bramble / had a pretty good run though / with Ray Boom Boom Mancini / I watched it last night on my TV / on classic ESPN / laying in bed next to my girlfriend / drifted off looking at the ceiling / with a pretty good feeling / and I laid awake all night long / thinking man that Bramble sure was strong.  The next day at his San Francisco studio, his vibe is loose and assured.  And I worked out a couple of songs and I played my guitar all day long.  He even brags about his guitar virtuosity, name-dropping fellow guitarists with his tongue firmly planted in cheek: I can play like Malcom and Neil Young / and I can play circles round most anyone / I like Kirk Hammett and Steve Vai / but I hate Eric Clapton and Nels Cline / I hate Nels Cline!  This funny line is enhanced by the artsy guitar send-off that sounds just like a Cline solo at a Wilco show.  Clearly, Mark and his mates are having a great time.

Mark Kozelek & Desertshore is a casual record spanning the spectrum: Motown swing, classic rock, folk, alt-country, slowcore, and piano ballads are confidently developed across ten distinctive tracks.  Desertshore consists of former Red House Painters guitarst Phil Carney, classic pianist Chris Connolly, and Sun Kil Moon drummer Mike Stevens.  The band first recorded an instrumental album on Koz's Caldo Verde label, 2010's Drifting Your Majesty.  On their second effort, the excellent Drawing of Threes, Koz played bass and wrote and sang vocals on six tracks, resulting in gems like "Randy Quaid."  This time around the band decided to make Koz's residency permanent across the entire record, and the collaboration is a time-tested sound that appeals to no trend other than fine songcraft and musicianship.

Lyrical themes range from a day spent in New Orleans, an encounter with Church of Satan Founder Anton Lavey, and the passing of friends and relatives.  On the jazzy swing of "Mariette," Koz describes his stay in the Big Easy while Carney's luminous, textured guitar shimmers and Connolly's beautifully understated piano runs through the city.  I hear the drunken hearts / coming up from St. Charles / here in New Orleans / can't complain about anything / the sweet taste of everything / walking down Magazine / or down Esplanade / for the cool oak tree shade.  On the roiling track "Hey You Bastards I'm Still Here," Koz remembers watching Papillon and Kung Fu with his Dad, dreaming about moving to the West Coast, and meeting Lavey in San Francisco.  And if I'm ever near the corner he lived on / I always think about the day I met Anton / his old Victorian was black as bondo / they tore it down now it's shiny new condos.

On the poignant and folk-tinged "Tavoris Cloud," Koz half-jokingly recalls the death of his longtime cat:  I miss my afternoon naps / my kitty cat sleeping on my lap / she died August 2011 / I just got back from Norway / she slipped off to kitty heaven.  Then his mind drifts to boxing:  Last night I had to laugh out loud / when Hopkins beat Tavoris Cloud /  at the age of 48 / no fighter ever was that great.  Finally, his thoughts grow somber and rest on the death of his friend, the longtime drummer for American Music Club: 2012 last July / for a week I cried and cried / when I got the news that my old friend Tim Moon had died.  Koz shares the crushing news as if it just happened yesterday--and sometimes I still cannot believe / Tim Moon he died at 53! / there in Petaluma in his kitchen / oh how his wife and daughter miss him!  All of these thoughts circle back to his own mortality, his own weaknesses, and his own journey through life:  And though I moved out here I know / I'm still that kid from Ohio / who's living in a world / I'm still getting to know.

The seemingly off-hand details of Koz's personal life provide profound meaning in his songwriting.  It is the minutiae that matters.  Whether he tears up at Steve McQueen's defiant message in Papillon or finds strange solace in the cemeteries near his home, Koz shares deep thematic connections that are culled from the everyday.  And when these intimate observations coincide with the sweeping moments of his life--the mistakes, the loves, and the deaths--his lyrics often move toward the sublime.  Unlike the painstaking poetics of albums like April or Admiral Fell Promises, his writing here is relaxed and plainspoken, a conversational approach that befits the music's unhurried direction. And while this record went somewhat under the radar, it will prove with time to be numbered among his best.

6. Wakin On A Pretty Daze / Kurt Vile

Kurt Vile's free-flowing Americana seeps into your consciousness.  An amalgamation of classic, stoner, and folk rock, like Tom Petty skewed through an alternative lens, Vile's music hits the right vein again and again.  On his fifth solo album Wakin On A Pretty Daze, Vile unfurls blissed-out guitar magic, another effortless yarn in his unspooling vibe.

One of ten children and now a devoted father to two of his own, Vile was raised in West Philly and has made the city his inspirational canvas and long-term home.  For the album's cover and video for "Wakin On A Pretty Day," Vile painted up an inner-city building with clever references to his songs.  On the video for "Never Run Away," he is featured in a series of this-is-my-town clips, dressed in his signature white-on-white, long-haired zen ensemble.  His love for his hometown was recently reciprocated when the city presented him with the Liberty Bell Award, apparently the "highest honor" that Philly offers.  And GQ named him rocker of the year, validating the six-string king as more than just a local icon.

Though he still needs more confidence in his live vocal delivery, his in-person guitar playing is golden.  He rocked a righteous set at the Urban Lounge that featured an impressive interplay between acoustic and electric guitars.  Like the studio tracks, Vile switches back and forth from acoustic to electric, and his talented bandmates--affectionately called The Violators--jam with the ease of long-time garage and couch friends.  The follow-up to his excellent Smoke Ring for My Halo is the kind of album that curmudgeonly record store clerks will swoon over for years to come.

Vile told Spin that Wakin On A Pretty Daze is like Fleetwood Mac's Tusk.  "It's totally our Tusk, but no cheese, just rock.  You turn it on and it sounds like me.  But the guitar playing is better and the ideas are new.  It's classic, it's epic, with many more solos." His lyrics are loosely autobiographical but open enough to invite listeners in with his stream-of-consciousness abstractions, delivered with his distinctive and sprawling vocal phrasing.  He sings about his life as it passes by--feeling good, being bummed out, loving his wife and kids, traveling on the road--and he has the unique ability to capture nonchalant but memorable lines as the jams just roll on.

7. Kveikur / Sigur Rós

It is difficult to discuss a band when you cannot understand what they are saying.  Perhaps that is why writers typically describe Sigur Ros as a sonic experience: eerie, alien, otherwordly, and yes, beautiful.  Because the only signifiers are the sounds themselves (including Jonsi Birgisson's voice), the emotional and aesthetic depth of the music can only be described by the varying and subjective degrees of how you feel.  Listening to the band is nothing short of tapping into your primal responses.

For The D Man, no other music makes me feel this way--an array of emotions spanning perceived epochs, like watching a fast-motion camera capturing skies that will never repeat themselves again, or  observing a thousand moons rising with a thousand turns of the earth.  Their best tracks conjure up untold ages of men, ghosts, summers, winters, suns.

On 2008's Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust, the band's quirky post-rock migrated to verdant, orchestral, tribal-thumping places, which subsequently led to the colorful sound of Jonsi's feather-clad solo album. But the band retreated into the barely-there sonics of 2012's Valtari, a lovely but largely ambient affair.  Compared to Valtari's ethereal droning, Kveikur is the equivalent of bone-crunching black metal, undoubtedly the band's most aggressive work to date.

"Brennisteinn" is the heaviest song Sigur Ros has recorded.  The song's bass-lines are barges breaking through north Atlantic ice, and its guitars are oceanic squalls dispensing heavy rains.  "Hrafntinna" chimes with a foreboding, subterranean fury, a racket of perfectly placed dissonance and Jonsi's bow-played guitar.  "Isjaka" competes with the band's best tracks, a towering grey sky spiraling into the majesty of warped strings.

Like the Danish band Mew, Sigur Ros implements hints of Scandinavian metal, and perhaps with the loss of founding keyboardist Kjarten Sveinsson, the band focuses on their rediscovered rhythm section, taking firm command of the harder-hitting material and merging it with their haunting melodies.  The result is a rattling rock album with driving bass-lines and uncanny drum patterns, a reinvigoration of their sound that stands among their best work.

Is there a non-English speaking band that has captivated Western listeners like these Icelanders?  None come to mind.  It has always been difficult to pin down outside influences in the band's catalog, let alone find a contemporary with similar success crossing the language divide.  The band has bridged the gulf by the hurtling force of their imaginative creations, and their remarkable success can only be explained by their emotional resonance and peculiar-sounding genius.