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.

 

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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.