2. Lost in the Dream / The War on Drugs

Hands down the best in-song moment of the year: at about the 1:48 mark in "Red Eyes," when Adam Granduciel releases his demons and finds healing in the form of a triumphant, whooooooo!  He then rips into a sweetly ferocious guitar run that rains down relief and all but washes away his watery eyes.  Even after hearing this transition a dozen times, it can still fire you up, help ease your own burdens via the power of a righteous cry.  But you abuse my faith!  Losing every time but I don't know where.  You're on my side again.  So ride the key wherever it goes.  I'll be the one, I can't, whooooooo!

When rock music doubles as spiritual suffering and rejuvenation, it is both surprising and soul-stirring.  Guitars and drums and vocals can make listeners feel many things.  But when they simultaneously explore dark personal hallways and illuminate the path of faith, however faint, it is an empathetic, immersive experience.  Lost in the Dream walks through the mist, uncertain but reaching, walking, hoping, and stretching for an outstretched hand.  Will you grab hold of it?

Much has been made of Adam Granduciel's personal paralysis as he recorded his masterpiece.  His struggles are worth celebrating here, if only because he lets us into his private world, honest and searching, and then pushes us forward with the force of wide-open, powerful, and beautiful rock songs.  Given that strange calculus which produces some of our best records, his sorrow is our good fortune. When someone else holds the candle, we can always see a little bit better.

Lost in the Dream is the sound of American rock music, right here, right now.  Some have described its sound as Bossgaze, which is shorthand for the spacey way that Granduciel grabs Springsteen, Petty, or Fleetwood Mac and distills them through an alt-rock guitar web.  When darkness begins to creep too far, the piano and saxophone provide warmth and clarity.  Dylan is another obvious influence, especially in the way Granduciel draws out and emphasizes his long vowels.

But none of those touchstones can play the guitar like him: sprawling, dexterous, anthemic, spiritual. He uses negative space as another substance, revealing striking contours in between his notes, and allowing for the possibility that a simple chord change can shift the entire direction of a song.  His leads are a meandering revelation.

Without hyperbole, this is one of the best records of the past decade.  It taps into a universal vein of American rock music while sounding fresh and inspired.  It is generous and cathartic; an hour of epic, open-road, big-sky dreaming.  It also influenced one of my own personal triumphs during the past year, a combination of physical and mental success.  As I climbed for three hours and 4,000 feet on my road bike to the top of American Fork canyon, Lost in the Dream propelled me in a very real and tangible way.  It was electric.  The music framed every vista, every tree-lined passage.  It carried me forward and gave me vitality when I needed it most.