8. Gossamer / Passion Pit

Michael Angelakos has some problems.  But making intricate, vibrant, maximalist pop music isn't one of them. Taking his songs at face value, his drinking has led him to dark places.  His shifting personalities has cost him friends.  His overwhelming anxiety has paralyzed his efforts.  Yet, if there is one constant he can cling to, he has been carried (perhaps literally) by his girlfriend.  In a way, Gossamer is his unblinking gratitude.

Like Passion Pit's debut Manners, the tracks on Gossamer are buoyant electro-pop confections, bubbling up and spreading out in colorful swaths of effects and melodies.  But the canvas is much bigger this time, both in terms of the advanced arrangements and the deeply-personal lyrics.  A song like "I'll Be Alright" feels supercharged with a million pop particles firing in all directions.  And it is difficult to think of another artist creating a sunny, sophisticated R&B slow-jam like "Constant Conversations," while at the same time rendering genuine insights into alcoholism and relapse.  Angelekos examines his life with an unflinching eye, and when his unsettling behavior is intertwined with the self-assured brightness of the music, it makes for jarring juxtapositions.  In reference to his drinking, for example, Angelekos notes his "life has become some blurry little quest," while the music bounces along with synth-gurgling glee.

Though the personal difficulties are undoubtedly real--Passion Pit canceled shows this summer so that Angelekos could regroup--it sure embeds a pop record with extra gravitas.  The soul-baring struggles, paired with the heady hooks, are immediate and immersive.  And despite the bewildering problems portrayed throughout the album, one thing is certain: it may take some time for Angelekos to figure out his personal life, but his music is only getting better.

9. The Haunted Man / Bat for Lashes

On the album's actual cover photo, a naked Natasha Khan carries a naked man on her shoulders.  The private parts, ahem, are covered up, barely.  (Yeah, I expected all of you would click on the link before reading this parenthetical--some readers you are).  The D Man imagines the provacative photo is a feminist metaphor for the emotional and physical burdens that women must carry for the haunted men in their lives.  Perhaps this is too literal of an interpretation, but I doubt it.  After all, we are somewhat problematic as a gender and species and, well, you saw the photo, didn't you?

So if you are an emotionally stunted male, it looks like this record could pose some problems.  But there is hope.  Once the music begins, all potentially contrived attacks will glance off your (brawny?) chest, and you will be hardpressed to excuse yourself from listening.  Because the songs are visceral enough, so right in front of you, so intoxicating, the only thing that will matter is the dark beauty of another Bat for Lashes record.

Artful and unguarded, The Haunted Man is Natasha Khan at her most elemental.  Her lyrics are raw, her melodies succinct and urgent.  Unlike the embellishments in past records, the production here is meticulous, cutting away unwarranted intrusions into Khan's subterranean world.  On tracks like "Laura" and "All Your Gold," there is little to interfere with her direct, emotive ambitions.  Yet she remains just as mysterious, sensual, and compelling as ever.

The songs are mostly flights of fantasy.  On "Winter Fields," the track swirls over a bed of strings, and then marches forward with perfectly-placed drum fills, evoking a bleak scene from a dream: Oh mother, I'm scared to close my eyes / Some winter dreams make you dive and dive, and dive down.  On "Wall," Khan sings over stretched-out synth lines, sultry and confident, imagining a woodland path to redemption: when you see a wall, I see a door.  On "Marilyn," her tremulous falsetto rises above dark-shaded electronica for a brief, shining moment: holding you, I'm touching a star!  Steeped in pop-culture romanticism--turning into Marilyn, leaning out of a big car--Khan's marriage of sound and voice is sublime.

Though some artistic chanteuses overdo the drama, Khan is not content to draw out her pain and longing with slow, dirge-like compositions.  There are no look at me writhe before you moments that, for better or worse, frighten away many would-be male listeners.  She prefers movement, pulsating rhythms, flashes of color, carrying songs forward with purpose and emotional thrust.  Some of her songs could even be described as club music cloaked in arthouse cinematics.  Indeed, songs like "Daniel" from Two Suns, or "All Your Gold" from this record, are really just Phd versions of Ke$sha dance tracks.  This may be the best thing about Bat for Lashes: she moves.

10. Kill for Love / Chromatics

Kill for Love's spacious electro-synth pop casts an alluring gloom over the after-party.  Listeners will not want to leave.  Grand and foreboding, the record is replete with the kind of pulsing, nocturnal Euro-disco that can carry you off deep into the night.

Johnny Jewel's evocative soundscapes are well-suited for Ruth Radelet's thin, dimly-cast vocals.  The multi-instrumentalist indulges in spectral beats, with founding guitarist and synth-man Adam Miller pushing the songs through dark, glossy, New Order-inspired territory.  The promise of the band's 2007 release, Night Drive, is fulfilled here with icy studio precision.

The album opens with a cover of Neil Young's "Into the Black," foretelling the descent into enveloping shadows.  The engrossing run of songs includes the excellent title track, "Lady," and "A Matter of Time."  The album turns in at 77 minutes, and while the music is refracted through a narrow prism, it never feels like too much.  There are changes in tempo, rhythm, and texture, keeping the record sounding like a consistent, if not cryptic, whole.  By underscoring tragedy and romance with masterful atmospherics, Kill for Love is a downright cinematic pleasure.

11. Blunderbuss / Jack White

Though Jack White is no longer lording over a record with wrecking-ball riffs (see Elephant or Icky Thump), Blunderbuss is a strong first album as a nominal solo artist.  Instead of blasting away at the blues idiom with anthemic aplomb, White sits down lower in the grooves, a flotsam of old-rock guitars, pianos, and drums delivering a compellingly strange batch of songs.  But do not worry too much, as there are still moments of uncanny guitarness in the midst of rag-tag, blues doo-wop mish-mash.

White is razor sharp as a songwriter, and his songs on Blunderbuss are as direct as he has ever been.  He is contradictory, mysterious, and magnetic.  His bemused, almost maniacal lyrical and vocal approach emphasizes the serious emotional baggage he unloads.  He rages at his independent and elusive woman, then he places her on a pedestal for being just that.  He rips out his heart for love, then he wants to take it back and lock it away in the deep.  On "Hypocritical Kiss," he chides incredulously:  "And who the hell's impressed by you? / I want the names of the people / That we know that are falling for this."  He never gets a straight answer, despite his constant hounding.

As Jack White the solo artist, he is free to run down any rabbit holes, get entangled in any thicket.  The White Stripes' overwhelming canon may serve as a counterpoint rather than a burden.  On Blunderbuss, he plays Brer Rabbit with a fierce musical curiosity, and the chase is at once thrilling and befuddling.

12. I Know What Love Isn't / Jens Lekman

So let's get married . . . but only for the citizenship.  Ah, yes, it can only be Jens Lekman.  Hard to believe it has been five years since his masterful album, Night Falls Over Kortedela.  Lekman's first proper album, When I Said I Wanted to Be Your Dog, established the Swede as the go-to troubadour of pop earnestness and romantic melancholy.  How many times has he fallen in love since then without ever quite getting it right?  

Lekman's witty, sample-laden tracks are unforgettable, and his Morrissey-esque voice carries tunes to exquisite little epiphanies.  His early efforts contained a wistful majesty to the lo-fi production, while his subsequent output is arguably better in terms of melody and polish.  Indeed, his ear for melody is impressive, bringing magic to the small (and funny) stories of heartbreak and misunderstanding.  Meeting chicks at anti-war demonstrations.  Cutting his finger while slicing avacadoes.  Visiting an Iraqi barber in her apartment salon.  Singing with the perspective of Rocky Dennis from Mask.  There is very little that Jens can stay silent about.

On I Know What Love Isn't, Lekman embellishes the sweet and the bitter with lovely piano lines, rich saxophones, and lilting flutes, drawing out the songs into fluid verses and choruses.  Call it emo for people with graduate degrees in melody and heartbreak.  Lekman sings, "A broken heart is not the end of the world / Because the end of the world is bigger than love," which ultimately seems like a grand conceit to convince himself otherwise.  Listeners with dark, cold hearts may find this all to be a bit too much, but others will revel in the humor, pathos, and sweetness that Lekman reveals in his clever songs.

13. Move, Lord / Markarians

Chad Murphy has recently released some excellent EPs under the moniker Markarians (so cosmic and deep!).  He is a micro-culture renaissance man of sorts, as he has fronted bands, obtained his masters, painted with oils, and generated all-around good vibes.  He just wrote this excellent piece regarding his father's rightful place in the baseball Hall of Fame.

Markarians' dreamy DIY sound is riddled with laid-back galactic energy, a sweet amalgamation of soft-pyschedelia, acoustic strums, and bedroom thoughtfulness.  There are faint sonic traces of Kurt Vile's ambling guitar passions, but Murphy's lyrical dexterity surpasses even those comparisons.

On Move, Lord, easily Murphy's signature work to date, he is downcast, hushed, and conflicted.  One can almost hear his weary, existential sigh, as the heaviness of the universe consumes his inner world.  The weight of his dilemma is enhanced by deft religious allusions, seeking the Divine and worrying about its elusiveness.  On "Domino," Murphy's literate concerns tumble forth:

True believer
There's no end to times like these
It's no wonder
She speaks unknowingly of grief
and talks of death in dulcet tones

You will never understand
So will you comfort them?
Or comfort you?

She dreamed this:
A white horse running through the fog
Helpless
Aching thunder, you were wrong

If so, what's that say for joy and hope?
So what.
Put that collar on my throat
And lead me on, I need the peace 
of pretty fictions, mercy seats

If this sounds like poetry, it is.  The record's most impressive achievement is the way these words roll effortlessly off Murphy's tongue, sluffing off in a half-whispered intimacy that only conspiring spirits could understand.  If Murphy needs a lift, the music's subtle gorgeousness will have to do.  Otherwise, he may need reminding that heaven is not in the grain of sand, but in the glass of water, as comforting the weary is sharing in that same love that formed the stars.

(Enjoy "Rip Through Sunsets," from another fine EP, Ten Means Heaven).

14. Confess / Twin Shadow

If you must reassert loverboy bona fides, this is your record.  If you are aiming to get her back, this is your roadmap.  If heartbreak is your modus operandi, if relationship drama is your preference, if emotional wreckage is your thing, Twin Shadow is your muse.  If you feel inclined to throw on your black leather and motorbike your way to redemption, this is your Purple Rain.  (No doubt Confess could provide the overemoting backdrop for a biker gang trying to save the leader's girfriend from the clutches of a less worthy lover.  Oh, wait, the record actually did provide the overemoting backdrop for a biker gang trying to save the leader's girlfriend from the clutches of a less worthy lover).

At the strange intersection of nu-wave and R&B, Confess lays bare George Lewis, Jr.'s bleeding, how-could-you-do-this-to-me heart.  The songs are pointed barbs, confessionals, pleas, and arguments, making a case for love that was always there for the taking.  He ditches the synth-and-guitar driven subtleties of Forget in favor of direct vocal confrontation, underscored by driving beats and slick production.  The result: an over-the-top performance filled with glittering confrontations and comebacks.  He is betrayed.  Then he betrays.  You don't run my heart, he says, so don't you dare.

Lewis, Jr. is a musical chameleon, and for the most part his channeling works.  Though he apes down-and-out Bowie, glides through rainy-day Morrissey, and gets desperate like Prince, he convinces as an obviously talented vocalist and stylist, even if he is still searching for that final voice that will be his alone.

By several accounts, Twin Shadow emerged as a surprising guitar hero during last summer's festival circuit.  Apparently, he rips.  Here, his guitar is often a mood-inducing sidelight to the record's big production of backbeats and keyboards, which largely push the singer's heart-searing agenda forward.  On "Run My Heart," for example, he employs Andy Summers-style guitar pick-ups before launching into the song's chorus payoff.  Although this record eschews his debut's more overt and pristine nods to new wave, and it certainly increases some of the stylized bombast, it still feels like an exciting ride in the right direction.

15. Coexist / The xx

The xx dissipate farther into the darkness on Coexist.  Somehow, the London group scatters into more space, and serves up even more minimalism than their phenomenal self-titled debut.  The spare beauty in this exercise, however, is just how effortless, even natural it all seems.  As if the songs just wisped out from the shadows.

At the same time beguiling and isolating, Coexist is almost an extended metaphor for intimate relationships.  If you could ever just get close enough to truly see the other person.  To have your hearts beat in unison with each other.  "Separate or combine? / I ask you one last time," sings Oliver Sim, to which Romy Madley Croft responds, "Did I hold too tight? / Did I not let enough light in?"

The understated vocal tension between Croft and Sim is intriguing, providing the perfect nighttime passage for lovers.  Where the interpersonal drama never seems to fully resolve itself, the music also hints at beat-filled drops that never come.  Instead, Jamie xx's production is restrained, mirroring the notion that suspense (and sexiness) is sometimes better than actual fulfillment of the real thing.  Stretched out with quiet moments, the record allows for austere rumination over subtle, treasure-filled listens.

16. Port of Morrow / The Shins

On the strength of the radio-friendly single, "Simple Song," The Shins' fourth album, Port of Morrow, merits Top Twenty inclusion.  Men have drowned in their tears trying to create a song so splendid and accessible.  The overarching melody and chorus is exceptionally strong, it seems almost irrational to deny the song's multi-faceted pleasures.  It represents another polished pop gem that will continue to garner The Shins all of those Beatles comparisons.

Of course, Port of Morrow is really James Mercer's album, as was the case for the band's first three records.  A largely new cast of players took the challenge to develop his superbly-crafted songs into larger sonic spaces.  Mission accomplished.  Listeners can hear some of the residue from Mercer's recent work with Danger Mouse; the record's production sounds gigantic when compared to The Shins' earliest material.

That said, Mercer attempts to cull the best sounds from prior records, too, from the elliptical indie rock of Oh, Inverted World, to the propulsive intracacies of Chutes Too Narrow, to the glossy production sheen of Wincing the Night Away.  He is mostly successful, and the finished product is safe harbor for listeners seeking refuge from the storms of unoriginal, overprocessed pop music.

Port of Morrow's pleasures come from its cohesive variety: the pyschedelic folk strum of "September," the golden AM radio of "Fall of '82," the hypnotic trip-hop of the title track, the spindly guitars of "Bait and Switch."  Without ever abandoning his big-tent appeal, Mercer's musical ideas are legion.  So it makes sense that The Shins remain one of the biggest bands in indiedom, if that realm even contains the mainstream success at this point in time; most listeners have long since figured out that "New Slang" will change their lives.  Though this record may not be that transformative, one cannot help but hope that Mercer will be writing songs for as many listeners as possible, for a long time to come.

17. Boys & Girls / Alabama Shakes

Feels much better now that he's a black chick.  The D Man texted that message to Stark the Vinyl Shark after listening to Alabama Shakes a second time.  The first time listening to the band's debut, Boys & Girls, I actually thought the singer was a stringy-haired white dude from the South.  Nice to have that cleared up.  And nice to have this notable response from Stark:  This is the best text I have ever gotten, no matter the context.

Brittany Howard and the boys do some serious soul-shaking and self-affirmation on the album's opening track, "Hold On."  "Must be somebody up above / saying c'mon Brittany / you got to get back up!"  Howard's soulful, nearly-there, but always reaching delivery sets the positively great groove on fire.  She knows how to simmer, too, on tracks like "I Ain't the Same" and "You Ain't Alone."  Though the record's vibe hails back to numerous old-school influences, it sounds urgent, in the here and now.  Stark the Vinyl Shark later noted that this was the record he wished Kings of Leon had made.  Listeners will nod their head in agreement, understanding that Boys & Girls is authentic, southern-rock soul music.

18. Break It Yourself / Andrew Bird

By my count, Andrew Bird's albums have appeared on The D Man's year-end list four times.  As I've written before, "his baroque, lyrically whimsical chamber-pop has no other peers, largely due to his violin virtuosity and looping build-ups performed with multiple instruments."  My loyal cadre of readers know this blog is getting long in the tooth, or I am running out of things to say about Bird, when I have to quote myself.

If you have never seen Bird live, well, you should.  His considerable gifts are on full display.  His pipes are nimble and strong, which is a necessary skill if you are pulling off some of the taffy-stretching lyrics he offers up.  And his astute musicianship is readily apparent, to say nothing of his compositional acumen.  Bird's music beats with a Midwest heart, but it is set to the metronome of classical European training.  And did I mention that he is a world-class whistler?

So it seems routine that our master of picking and palindromes recorded another fine album, Break it Yourself.  One critic said that if you like smart pop music and are not familiar, hearing Bird for the first time will feel like discovering a new planet.  This observation is a welcome reminder for long-time Bird listeners, too.  Because we should never take for granted an artist so gifted, an artist sharing tonal and melodic moments that are so lovely, so likeable.

19. Runner / The Sea and the Cake

Chicago's veteran post-rock musicians, The Sea and Cake, somehow just keep getting smoother.  Helmed by Sam Prekop's lush and unhurried vocals, tenth album Runner is the band at its comfortable best.  Trading in some guitars for even more synths, these guys are finding subtle but ever-welcoming ways to dazzle.

The band rarely strays from its seemingly effortless formula: precision guitars + smooth rhythm + Prekop's delivery = brainy pop escapism.  On Runner, the songs are constructed with such a cool restraint, the record is more of a paean to tone and efficiency than to any overzealous sense of songcraft.  The band's cult-like staying power has been strengthened by its devotion to always-pleasing intracacies that sound so unforced.  These talented musicians do not yell for attention, but they know how to make seriously fine indie pop records.

Highlights include album opener "On and On," breezy single "Harps," and light-as-a-feather "A Mere."  The rest of the songs on Runner follow suit--smooth, immersive, and easy on the ears.

20. Battle Born / The Killers

Brandon Flowers is your man.  The Desert Highway King.  The Trans-Am Warrior.  The Arena Rock Balladeer.  The Sad-Eyed Sage of the Vegas Strip.  Neither the cords of time nor the rust of cars can prevent him from immortalizing every magical moment, every epic makeout, that still, in hindsight, stings the best of us.

To say Battle Born is all earnest nostalgia is an understatement.  But the album is less about memories of intense loves and big dreams as it is providing the right soundtrack--the right overwhelming feeling--to frame those loves and dreams.  Served in oversized pop anthems and overwrought rock ballads, it just may be The Killers best album since their loaded debut.  It is essentially hair metal for dudes who prefer pop over thrash, keyboards over six-strings.

Though Battle Born does not have the same tantalizing glow of singles lit up by Hot Fuss, or even that one transcendant moment like Sam's Town (see "When You Were Young"), the record possesses a consistent collection of songs that can carry listeners to the mountaintop by the strength of Flowers' undiminished belief.  If he can sing it, you can believe it.

Not too long ago, Flowers mused that his band could be as big as U2.  While this will never happen, it is not for a lack of trying.  These songs reach for a populist connection that would make the Boss blush, but not with contrived working-man tropes.  Here, Flowers talks about fast cars, tan girlfriends, and fighting against the march of time that will prevent us from realizing our neon-light dreams.  Sure, Flowers can be redundant as a lyricist (see his penchant for couplets like "eager eyes," "neon nights," "golden nights," and every other kind of nights), but his ability to tap into the exaggerated essence of our attachment to youth and its exhilaration, his reaching for the big universal moment in a song, is uniquely suited to his rock-vocal prowess.

Two passages sum up the album best.  The first is from "The Way It Was."  "I remember driving in my daddy's car to the airfield / Blanket on the hood, backs against the windshield / Back then this thing was running on momentum, love, and trust / That paradise is buried in dust."  That description just might be the fate of our golden past, but it will not stop Flowers from looking back at the brilliant flash.  On "Miss Atomic Bomb," he resolutely sings, "Making out, we've got the radio on / You're going to miss me when I'm gone."  And we don't doubt it for a second.

Ten Best Musical Moments of 2012

(My Morning Jacket show:  Rizzo, Rip, J, The D Man, Stark the Vinyl Shark)

Before the world ends in a few weeks, The D Man would like to reminisce about the best musical moments from the past year.  The Mayans would have enjoyed Japandroids.

• 10.  Catching bits of live performances from this absurd trifecta during our trip to New Orleans: KISS, Avett Brothers, and Jimmy Buffett.
• 9.  Streaming the Wild Nothing and New Order stations on Pandora during countless runs and workouts.
• 8.  Letting Brandon Flowers soundtrack our entire stay in Southern California.
• 7.  Enjoying Snow Patrol and Switchfoot live, two of the best feel-good bands on earth.
• 6.  Rocking with The Black Keys and believing in their arena bona fides.
• 5.  Shimmering under Victoria Legrand's spell during a splendid summer concert.
• 4.  Bouncing to "Mahgeeta" with My Morning Jacket and then having the band thank me on their Twitter and Facebook feeds for choosing the epic song for their set list.
• 3.  Hitting Mimi's in the Marigny on Saturday night and catching DJ Soul Sister spin obscure underground disco and old-school funk records.
• 2.  Hearing Bon Iver in concert and witnessing an artist transfigured in the zeitgeist at the summit of his powers.
• 1.  Listening to "The House That Heaven Built" while racing from Baton Rouge to New Orleans.  The bayou flashing by in the car.  The D Man, my brothers, and my Dad, ready to set Final Four weekend on fire.  After almost forty years of coaching basketball, and winning more than 700 games, the old ball coach was hanging the whistle up for good.  So our anthem for the week, our sendoff to decades of battling in the arena with our Dad, was this parting message: If they try to slow you down, tell them all to go to hell.  Though my Dad may not have agreed with the music being cranked up so loud, it was fitting.  It was catharsis.

Five Things

(Sufjan Stevens may be singing carols in your neck of the woods)

Thanksgiving was excellent.  But now it is officially time for some Christmas music.  Too bad Sufjan Stevens' Friendship Sleigh Ride is not coming through my town because the tour looks totally awesome.  Oh, well.  Burl Ives will have to do.

• Check out the videos for two excellent tracks from The Sea and Cake's Runner:  "Harps" and "On and On."
• Chromatics have released a new song and video called "Cherry."  It would sound right at home on this year's Kill for Love.
• William Basinski just reissued the experimental music classic, The Disintegration Loops.  For an excellent primer, check out this article.
• This song streamed through Pandora while I was working out the other day.  Thanks, The Mary Onettes.
• Making out, we got the radio on.  Amen, Brandon Flowers.  Amen.

Five Things: Roadtrip Edition

(The Killers)

The D Man recently enjoyed a trip to the Magic Kingdom with his entire clan.  So it feels appropriate to share another roadtrip musiclogue.  We made it there and back, and always with the right tunes.

• Among the Leaves by Sun Kil Moon.  Mrs. D Man said this song was depressing.  I disagreed, calling it contemplative or mood-inducing.  Regardless, it was perfect listening for considering the wide expanse.
• Celebration Rock by Japandroids.  Needing a palette cleanser, we hit this hard through Cedar City.  Mrs. D Man could barely handle a three-song set, so I gave her the best the record could offer:  "Adrenaline Nightshift," "Younger Us," and "The House That Heaven Built."
• Nocturne by Wild Nothing.  The November sun was slanting.  The canyons were rising.  Slipped this record in at just the right time.
• Demolition by Ryan Adams.  Going nuclear was maybe too appropriate while driving through the downwinder desert of southern Nevada.
• High Violet by The National.  I let Mrs. D Man pick this one.  I think we both just wanted to sing to "Bloodbuzz, Ohio."  I still owe money to the money I owe.  Yeah, we know what you mean, guys.
• Declaration of Dependence by Kings of Convenience.  With the time change, we left Las Vegas the next day much earlier than expected.  The rising sun was masking everything in a yellowish hue.  We needed a record to appreciate the isolation and vast beauty, yet music that would not snap us out of our early-morning reverence too quickly.
• Gossamer by Passion Pit.  These songs made the empty spaces bounce.
• Heaven by The Walkmen.  Not surprised by how well this record sounded on the open road.  Coming out of Barstow, everything seemed to click.  How many times can you say that?
• Bloom by Beach House.  The exquisite accompaniment for descending into California's coastal valley.
• Battle Born by The Killers.  Our Orange County soundtrack.  We listened to this album non-stop for five days, and we will likely forever associate Disneyland and Huntington Beach with Flowers' vocals and the band's earnest romance and nostalgic anthems.  And guess what?  We loved every minute of it.
• Bloom again.
• Zonoscope by Cut Copy.  The trip home is always difficult.  The music can lose that sense of anticipation.  Striking the right tone is important and delicate work.  I figured some savvy, bright-eyed pop could carry us through the first stretch of California desert.
• Confess by Twin Shadow.  The clouds gathered and the rain started to fall.  So Twin Shadow's nocturnal beats were not premature.
• Era Extrana by Neon Indian.  The icy future-gloom from this record was a nice change of pace, and it still managed to accentuate the foreboding change in weather.
• Songs for a Blue Guitar by Red House Painters.  At the first sign of snowflakes somewhere in central Utah, we fully embraced the need for something pensive, quiet, and striking.
• In a Safe Place by The Album Leaf.  Mrs. D Man laughed when I put this record on, astutely observing my need to always create the perfect mood or the right memory.  When the traffic slows and the snow piles up, few records could serenely take in the surrounding whiteout.  This was absolutely one of them.

Song of the Week

I woke up stronger than ever!  Possibly the best refrain from the past year in music.  It makes me feel good--no, alive--every time I hear it.  Check out the magical new video for M83's "Steve McQueen."  Anthony Gonzalez drills into the wonders of youth, something he has recently mined more than anyone on the planet, to undoubtedly sparkling results.

Five Things

(Jon Foreman and Drew Shirley from Switchfoot)

• Sun Kil Moon plays the biting "Track Number 8" backstage at Fallon.
• Who says rock music cannot have a great message?  Not these California surfers.  The D Man and Rip hit the Switchfoot show this week.  The San Diego band played a fun and inspiring set, swelling with the accessible dare-you-to-move anthems they do so well.  After eight albums, Jon Foreman's lead vocals could not sound better, and his bandmates could not sound tighter.  It was refreshing to see a regular-looking crowd, too, complete with college and high school kids, suburban dads, and a sprinkling of skaters and punks.  The overwrought hipsters and less-showered were noticeably absent.  Highlights included big hits "Stars," "Meant to Live," and "Dare You to Move."  Lesser known tracks "Needle and Haystack Life" and "Restless" really struck a chord with me, too.
• Check out Natasha Khan in the ballad "Laura" from The Haunted Man.
• Check out the video for "Chained" from the xx.  
• The D Man has been obsessed with this song and this song the past couple weeks.  It invariably happens this time of year.

Song of the Week

My man Mark Kozelek made his national television debut this week on Fallon.  Hard to believe for a guy who has one of the most staggering songwriting catalogs of the past twenty years.  He performed two songs with the Roots, starting with a restrained but noteworthy version of "The Moderately Talented Young Women" from Sun Kil Moon's new release, Among the Leaves.  And imagine my surprise when he closed things out with a plugged-in rendition of the Red House Painters' classic "Mistress."

Five Things

(Grizzly Bear's Daniel Rossen, Ed Droste, Christopher Bear, and Chris Taylor)

• Prepare to have more holiday cheer than you can possibly fathom.  Sufjan Stevens is out with his second Christmas box set, titled Silver & Gold: Songs for Christmas, Vols 6-10.  The 5 EPs were recorded between 2006 and 2010, and are sure to contain intimately epic classics and all-new originals.  You can pick up the ultimate stocking stuffer on November 13th.
• Check out the new video for Grizzly Bear's "Yet Again."  And a live take of "Sleeping Ute."
• Chad Murphy's (aka Markarians) Move, Lord is excellent.  Enjoy "Go & Ask Shelly" and "Alligators." Easily the coolest stuff to come (in a round-about way) from the Beehive State in a long time.  And his tight-end brother just had a nice reception in the Utah-USC football game.
• Beth Orton released her new album, Sugaring Season, her first collection of songs in six years.  Take a listen to "Magpie."
• Seems natural that Adele, the current world-conquering Brit, would get a shot at the new Bond theme.  You will have to Google the elusive and just-leaked "Skyfall."

Song of the Week

Bat for Lashes' new album is called The Haunted Man.  So it is appropriate the the early singles are spectral wonders.  Check out "All Your Gold" and the sparkling "Marilyn," where Natasha Khan's tremulous falsetto rises above dark-shaded electronica and twisted soundscapes for a brief, shining moment: holding you, I'm touching a star.  Steeped in lyrical mysticism and pop-culture romanticism--turning into Marilyn, leaning out of a big car--Khan's haunting marriage of sound and voice is exquisite, even exotic.

Song of the Week

Looking for the perfect fall soundtrack?  It will be tough to beat Wild Nothing's Nocturne.  The sepia-toned, synth-and-guitar pictures from Gemini have been developed with even more fidelity, and the results are vibrant and transportive.  Enjoy "Paradise" below.

Five Things

(Frank Ocean)

The D Man neglected to share some videos that he enjoyed during the summer.  A few spots you may have overlooked.

• Check out the video for "Lazuli," the stunning song from Bloom.
• That certain band from Iceland.  That certain feeling you get.
• Enjoy the companion piece to the "Midnight City" video: "Reunion."
• Frank Ocean's video for his biggest single to date is, well, not your typical R&B joint.  Of course, neither is Channel Orange.
• Check out "The Descent" from Bob Mould's Silver Age.

Song of the Week

So let's get married . . . but only for the citizenship.  Ah, yes, it can only be Jens Lekman.  Hard to believe it has been five years since his masterful album, Night Falls Over Kortedela.  Lekman's first proper album, When I Said I Wanted to Be Your Dog, established the Swede as the go-to troubadour of pop earnestness and romantic melancholy.  How many times has he fallen in love since then without ever quite getting it right?  

Lekman's witty, sample-laden tracks are unforgettable, and his Morrissey-esque voice carries tunes to exquisite little epiphanies.  His early efforts contained a wistful majesty to the lo-fi production, while his subsequent output is arguably better in terms of melody and polish.  Indeed, his ear for melody is impressive, bringing magic to the small (and funny) stories of heartbreak and misunderstanding.  Meeting chicks at anti-war demonstrations.  Cutting his finger while slicing avacadoes.  Visiting an Iraqi barber in her apartment salon.  Singing with the perspective of Rocky Dennis from Mask.  There is very little that Jens can stay silent about.

The D Man is giddy over the title-track from his forthcoming album, I Know What Love Isn't.  Call it emo for people with graduate degrees in melody and heartbreak.  Of course, listeners with dark, cold hearts may find this too much (I'm talking to you, Harrington), but others will revel in the humor, pathos, and sweetness that Lekman reveals in his clever songs.

Out of the Blue and Into the Black: Stark's Night with Neil

(Stark the Vinyl Shark taking in some Neil Young)

Attending a large, multi-day music festival has been on my musical bucket list for quite some time. I’m happy to announce to the readers of The D Man’s Music that I’ve just returned from attending the Outside Lands Music and Arts Festival held in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. 

The reason I chose this particular festival, besides the great location, is because Neil Young & Crazy Horse were headlining (along with Jack White, Foo Fighters, Stevie Wonder, and Metallica). I’ve been a fan of Neil Young for many years, including his work with Crazy Horse, Buffalo Springfield, and Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young.  So I jumped at the opportunity to see him play Outside Lands. 

I was anxious going into the festival for a number of reasons.  First, because it is huge – 65,000 people per day were expected (the festival officially sold out a few weeks prior to opening day). Second, it would be my first music festival experience. Third, it would be my first opportunity to see Neil Young play live, so I was constantly calculating the odds of obtaining a decent spot for the main event. 

Friday proved to be cool and overcast. I began the day at the Sutro stage watching White Denim and Sharon Van Etten before moving to the main stage to watch Beck and the Foo Fighters, both of whom played a great festival set of mostly “hits” with some rarities thrown in to mark the occasion. The Foo Fighters did their best to remind the huddled masses that they are the best rock band in the land, while constantly reminding the audience of who was playing next. By the time the guys were through with “Everlong,” my fleece and ball cap were on (undoubtedly the only Twins cap in a sea of Giants gear). The temperature had dropped and the fog rolled in – it was like the ghosts from Sun Kil Moon’s “Lost Verses” had decided to linger over the festival’s main stage above the thousands of fans below. 

Neil Young & Crazy Horse started with a twenty minute rendition of their early 1990’s track “Love and Only Love” off Ragged Glory before transitioning to older material like “Powderfinger." Neil seemed to be in good spirits, taking every opportunity to indulge his musical whims – including extended jams and lengthy feedback experimentation. “How many of you were conceived in a Ramada Inn?” Neil asked before launching into the new track “Ramada Inn” – which should give you an idea of the feel of the evening. 

Skipping material from their latest effort Americana, Neil Young & Crazy Horse blended brand new, soon-to-be-released material and classics with relative ease - a wise decision in my estimation. Let's face it, who wouldn’t want to hear Neil go crazy during the Ragged Glory classic “F***ing Up”? It’s a favorite and showed his playful side when gesturing to an engaged audience. While transitioning to his acoustic guitar only once (for Harvest’s “The Needle and the Damage Done”), the set was loud, loose, and always exciting. 

Though only a 13 song set, the band played for more than two hours, finishing the evening with “Mr. Soul” and “Roll Another Number." While not the Greatest Hits style set many might have expected, Neil proved he can still perform at a high level and that he is one of the more unpredictable artists in his class.

While I’ll remember my first Outside Lands for many things, I’ll mostly remember it as the time I saw Neil Young & Crazy Horse for the first time. He rocked, he rolled, he shook the earth…Everyone (including the fog) left feeling enriched and fortunate to have spent the evening in a park with one of the world’s most revered musicians.

Song of the Week

Grizzly Bear is back. "Yet Again" is a splendid-sounding track from the band's forthcoming third album, Shields.  It seems to have everything you could want: the prolonged, uncanny electric strums, the crackling, off-kilter drums, and the haunting, harmonic hums.  Vocal prominence and instrumental breakdown, of course.  You may recall that Veckatimest was the best album of 2009.  If this track doesn't get you excited for its follow-up, you must prefer this kind of grizzly experience.

The D Man

The D Man is a commercial litigator and has too much iron in his blood.

Among other things, The D Man enjoys music, the Chicago Cubs and Boston Celtics, Sufjan Stevens, Mark Kozelek, poets, lists, The Wall Street Journal Editorial Page, Cormac McCarthy, Harold Bloom talking about Cormac McCarthy, concert posters, South Africa, sons (Dylan, Colin, Evan), theology, Adam Miller, Terryl Givens, and Truth with a capital T.

His blog is dedicated to sharing the best in contemporary music.

Consider this Bloomian rip-off: we have but one life, and cannot listen to everything.  If we choose to listen, and I believe we should, as it allows us to enjoy or contemplate our mortality, what shall we listen to?  The "popular" music shared on this blog is an attempt to answer this question.  Because you value life and what you listen to enough to visit this blog, The D Man thanks you for your participation.  Listening to great music is a pursuit that can augment your consciousness in ways that only reading can rival (and arguably even trump).

Perhaps music's prime concern is similar to reading, which Bloom suggests is to discover, in the words of Samuel Johnson, "what comes near to ourself, what we can put to use." We may likewise apply Sir Francis Bacon's solemn recommendation for reading to the realm of music: "Listen to not contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk or discourse, but to weigh and consider."  Finally, we may paraphrase Emerson regarding the best books, and argue that the best songs also "impress us with the conviction, that one nature [sings] and the same nature [listens]."  Pragmatically, all of this means the following: learn to listen deeply, not to believe, not to accept, not to contradict, but to learn to share in that one nature that sings and listens.

Song of the Week

Chicago's precision post-rock musicians, The Sea and Cake, somehow just keep getting smoother.  Helmed by Sam Prekop's lush and unhurried vocals, the new single "Harps" from the soon-to-be released tenth album, Runner, is the band at its comfortable best.  Trading in the guitars for even more synths, the band is apparently finding new but ever-welcoming ways to dazzle.

My Morning Jacket

(Jim James from My Morning Jacket)

My Morning Jacket ring the guitar-driven sweat out of songs.  The Louisville band builds songs up, only to punish them with joyful, explicit shredding.  They just can't seem to leave a song without a defining, soul-stamped moment, whether it be a perfect groove, a soaring yelp, or a thrashing instrumental breakdown.  Hands down MMJ is one of the best live rock'n'roll bands on the planet.

Jim James skulked around the stage, his hair melding into his beard, or vice versa, playfully leading out on his flying-V guitar with untold swagger.  The poncho didn't hurt.  A royal purple poncho slung over his shoulders like he was some regal guitar-slinger sent from the lands south to pillage and burn.

The set list was curated by local fans via Twitter, and The D Man thoroughly enjoyed the wide-ranging selection.  Few bands can open up their entire catalog for a potential spot in their set, as it speaks volume to their talent as musicians, in addition to their genuine willingness to embrace their fans.  The D Man even received a shout out from the band for providing one of their selected tunes.

To the set list!

• Evil Urges.
• Off the Record.
• Circuital.  Simply a great acoustic jam.  Like many of their songs live, it builds into a killer groove, and shows off each musician's strengths, in the pocket and getting somewhere.
• The Way That He Sings.
• Outta My System.  Did anyone complain that they shared this wisdom from their latest effort, Circuital?
• First Light.
• Lay Low.  Track 8 from the perfectly-sequenced Z.  How did I forget about this gem?  The back-end shredding went to another level, lifting everyone in the park with it.
• Holdin' On To Black Metal.  Stark the Vinyl Shark correctly pointed out this song was much better live.
• Phone Went West.  Showing off some of their reggae-tinged psychedelia.
• Golden.  A feeling in my bones, I've never felt before.  Pure steel-guitar bliss-out.
• Evelyn Is Not Real.
• I'm Amazed.
• War Begun.
• Touch Me I'm Going to Scream Part II.  The audience turned into a glowstick wonderland.  The band turned into a dark, groovy club reveling in dance music.  One of the best moments of the night.
• Mahgeetah.  The D Man requested this favorite twice over Twitter.  And he got it.  A few years ago, I took a few liberties and rated "Mahgeetah/Golden" as the #16 song of the decade, and rightfully declared the tandem as two of the best driving-on-the-open-road songs ever recorded.  If you had just one song to explain My Morning Jacket, this might be it.
• Dondante.  Aural, raging, guitar-explosions. Awesome.
• Gideon.
• Encore
• Victory Dance.
• Wordless Chorus.  No need for words.
• One Big Holiday.  I told everyone that this song enjoys one of the best guitar-intros of all time.  Did not disappoint.  Not. One. Bit.

Rizzo, Rip, J, The D Man, and Stark the Vinyl Shark.  

J even said something interesting last night, but I can't remember what it was.

Song of the Week

Band of Horses new album hits shelves this September.  Check out "Knock Knock" from Mirage Rock.  The band recently played a fun set in Pioneer Park.  And, of course, they finished it off for the locals with "The Great Salt Lake."

Chicks, Man

(Victoria Legrand from Beach House)

The D Man is covered in Beach House's Bloom.  Splendid stuff.  The Baltimore band played a nice set in Pioneer Park, delivering the perfect vibe for a beautifully overcast summer night.  I recently told Mrs. D Man that I have a major musical crush on Victoria Legrand.  I note this because, in the past, she has accused me of going a little light on the ladies.  In other words, she thinks I listen to way too many dudes.

But I believe my love for women is not so skin deep.  Not surprisingly, The D Man has little time for female singers like this and this.  I am easily uninspired by Mariah vocal theatrics or over-the-top schmaltz.  Sure, some ladies like Carrie Underwood have a pleasant voice and can sing quite nice in a traditional sort of way, but their collective aesthetic is ultimately uninteresting.  Nothwithstanding such gripes, there are many talented female artists that I have loved and listened to throughout my life.  After enjoying Legrand's strong vocal presence perched behind her signature organ, I figured it was worthwhile to reminisce.

As I look back at the female artists that I have admired, a descriptive pattern emerges.  First, their voices are often striking in ways that conflict with mainstream radio.  Second, their songcraft is strong, establishing an identity distinct from prevailing trends.  Third, and perhaps most importantly, their aesthetic self is unique, inhabitating a realm unlike others.  Little wonder I enjoy Beach House so much, as Legrand easily embodies all of these noteworthy traits.

• Kate Bush.  Yeah, she gets name-dropped plenty as an influence for arty indie types everywhere.  But that does not mean her voice hasn't served as the expressive archetype for an entire generation of hip female singers.  Plus, her duet with Peter Gabriel beats anything between Tim and Faith.
• Cocteau Twins.  Nobody like Elizabeth Fraser.  No band like Cocteau Twins.
• Sinead O'Connor.  Before she went crazy, she was stunning.  And I loved this song.  Something mystical about her musical choices and vocal delivery, something that seemed to be welling deep at the edges of human emotion.  No one can argue that "Nothing Compares 2 U" is not one of the great female vocal performances of the past 25 years.
• Frente!  This Australian group with singer Angie Hart at the helm gave us one nice record, Marvin the Album.  During the early-90s alt days, Hart provided an acceptable foil to harder chicks like Kim Deal and Courtney Love.  The band's cover of New Order's "Bizarre Love Triangle" is a gem, and there were many summer nights when Rizzo and The D Man played it unashamed, in the Jeep Wrangler, with the top down.
• The Sundays.  The other day I heard "Here's Where The Story Ends" on satellite radio. I love everything about Harriet Wheeler's voice.  The fragility.  The restraint and then the reaching.  The fact that you instantly know she is cute.  For me, she will always be one of the sounds of summer.  Static & Silence tagged along with me and future Mrs. D Man for seemingly endless sunny months.
• The Innocence Mission.  Husband-and-wife singer-songwriters Don and Keren Paris have created spare but beautiful folk scenes, with deft Christian undertones that put them in a small category of faithful yet aesthetically pleasing artists.  The group's 1999 album Birds of My Neighborhood is my particular favorite.  "Lakes of Canada" is as good as traditional songwriting gets.  Just brilliant.
• More. In the past few years, The D Man has been pleased with the women throughout indiedom.  Romy Madley Croft lit up the dark nights and took home a Mercury Prize with The xx.  Alison Mosshart slinked around the stage with Jack White and held her own.  Natasha Kahn (aka Bat for Lashes) glowed under the embers of Two Suns.  Tracyanne Cambell made life sweeter on My Maudlin Career.  And Neko Case deserved constant airplay thanks to Mrs. D Man's absolute love for this ditty from the excellent Middle Cyclone.

Thanks to Beach House and others, 2012 could prove to be a banner year.

Song of the Week

Will there only be endless drifting? On Beirut's gorgeous epic from the excellent The Rip Tide, Zach Condon contemplates as much.  So the waves and I found the rip tide. Yet somehow, amid the wanderlust, Condon makes all of the right connections.  Check out the beautiful video for one of The D Man's favorite songs from the past year.


An aside.  Last November, while driving through the Mojave desert, we listened to Beirut's ever-appropriate album.  In and out of sleep from the backseat, Rizzo finally cried out to turn off this crappy, half-formed music.  Something to that effect.  At the end of our trip, however, The D Man slipped in The Rip Tide for a second run at Rizzo.  I pushed play on this track.  After listening to the song without a word, the late-night stars arcing overhead, I quietly said that is some beautiful, epic stuff, right?  Rizzo agreed and asked who it was.  My reply: Beirut, b#@%h!  Best moment of the trip.

Song of the Week

Californians can be annoying when they visit or move to your neck of the woods.  Everything is better in the Golden State, and they have no problem in letting you know.  Of course, they have reason to be proud.  As Best Coast proclaims in their song, "The Only Place," Cali's got the ocean, got the babes, got the sun, and got the waves.  So why would you live anywhere else?  Well, there is that little traffic problem.  And I hear that Modesto is sketchy.  But whatever your reasons for living outside of the left coast, there is no denying the good summer vibes of this tune.