Obscure Sound's Top 50 Albums of 2013

The main feeling that Kevin Shields felt upon the release of *m b v* in 2013 was relief. The process of making his band’s third album—and first since 1991’s era-defining *Loveless*—had begun almost two decades before, and, after a last-minute race to complete it before a planned tour, it was done. “We had a six-month tour in front of us and we literally just finished it in time,” Shields tells Apple Music. Continuing a theme begun by *Loveless* and 1988’s *Isn’t Anything*, Shields compromised nothing on *m b v*. This time, though, it was a totally independent production, all on him. “I spent about £50,000 mastering it,” he says. “If we were with a record company, they would have been going absolutely crazy, but we paid for it ourselves and we put it out ourselves and we made a lot more money than we would’ve made if we’d put it out on a label.” *m b v* began back in 1996. The band’s classic lineup had started to disintegrate, with drummer Colm Ó Cíosóig and bassist Debbie Googe departing. Perhaps in a reflection of this unsettling period, Shields began to approach songwriting in a much more experimental manner. “I went on this process of recording a lot of ideas in a purposely abstract way,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to write a song with a beginning and an end. Instead of writing a part in a song, I’d record it and then record another part. I was doing the writing process and the recording process at the same time but in different ways. It might be weeks between a verse and a chorus…well, I don’t do choruses.” The idea was that eventually these ideas would form a coherent whole that would be a new my bloody valentine record, but the project stalled in 1997 when Shields ran out of money. “And then I started hanging out with Primal Scream and I kind of drifted into that world, which was fun for quite a while.” It wasn’t until Shields was remastering the band’s back catalog in 2006 that he listened back to the unfinished sessions. “I realized it was actually better and more relevant than I thought it was,” he recalls. “I’d kind of forgotten about the more melodic parts of it and realized they were quite strong. I thought, ‘I should finish this and make it into an album.’” It was a freeing process, Shields says, filled with lots of “crazy shit.” At one point, they paid to fly people from England to Japan with proofs of the artwork because they didn’t trust just seeing it on a computer. “We were literally throwing money at it to make sure it was as good as possible,” he says. “Every single penny was justified.” By the end, Shields felt vindicated. “We did it our way and it was perfectly good.” No my bloody valentine record ever sounds of its time—they all sound like the future. But there is something especially reinvigorating about listening to their third album, perhaps because of how unlikely its release seemed at points. To hear Shields still erecting signposts on where guitar music can go on the sensational closer “wonder 2,” which sounds like a rock band playing drum and bass from inside the engine of a 747, or the slo-mo sway of “if i am” is to be reminded that this is a visionary at work. One of the central themes of *m b v*, says Shields, was a strong sense of everything coming to an end. He thinks that’s why it still resonated when he listened back in 2006, the feeling growing as he recommenced work on it in 2011 and even more so now. “We’re in a cycle of the world of things coming to an end and moving into a new phase,” he says. “The record is more relevant as every decade goes by.”

Boards of Canada return to album-making with a meticulously realized creation that both fascinates and disturbs—often simultaneously. *Tomorrow’s Harvest* marks how far the Scotland-bred duo has come since starting on the fringes of ‘90s electronica. Dark shadings and ominous textures have largely replaced the more pastoral atmospherics of earlier releases like 2002’s *Geogaddi*; the tone of these tracks suggests sinister forces hovering behind the facades of a futuristic cityscape. “Gemini,” “Collapse,” “Nothing Is Real,” and similar cuts unfold with a sense of mounting tension conveyed by jittery keyboard figures and furtive pulsations. At times—especially in “Palace Posy”—the duo achieves a Teutonic pop grandeur. There are lighter moments too, such as “Jacquard Causeway” (built around a woozy loping beat) and “New Seeds” (almost cheerful with its funk-tinged groove). More typical, though, are moody, insinuating pieces like “Telepath” and “Uritual,” which suggest soundtrack excerpts from long-lost sci-fi films. Boards of Canada render these aural visions with cool intelligence and hints of deadpan humor.

Deerhunter’s 2010 opus *Halcyon Digest* captures the dream-pop savants at their most elegant and fragile, but on their follow-up album, *Monomania*, Bradford Cox and company rediscover their scuzzy punk roots. “Neon Junkyard” rattles out of its cage with inhuman vocal contortions while “Pensacola” straddles over a hooky cowpunk guitar riff. The noisy title track cranks up the volume further and further, drowning out Cox’s screeching vocals with a torrential downpour of twisted feedback.

The immediate pop hook of “The Greatest Jewelry Thief in the World” and its lyrics of praise (which are exactly as its title insists) are the most hopeful signs a fan of Prefab Sprout’s Paddy McAloon could ask for. McAloon’s lately been in the press more for his hearing and sight difficulties than his creative output, though it’s been pointed out that only four years have passed since *Let’s Change the World with Music*. Here, McAloon sounds completely unharmed by his issues and remains in a charitable and playful mood throughout for one of Prefab’s finest albums since *Jordan: The Comeback*. Jimmy Webb is honored with “The Songs of Danny Galway.” Bob Dylan is treasured on “Mysterious.” McAloon praises, savors, and forgets “Adolescence” in four and a half minutes. Heartbreak is addressed on “Grief Built the Taj Mahal.” Soul-selling and fellatio are handled on “Devil Came a Calling.” The lure of music in service of romantic love drives the optimistic “Billy” and supports the poetry of “The Dreamer.” Thankfully, McAloon still has time before he reaches the diminished returns that befall “The Old Magician.”

Melbourne\'s Cut Copy came together in the early \'00s, when the rediscovery of \'80s electro and dance pop was in full flower. Yet one of the group\'s great strengths is the fact that it *is* a group, with a flesh-and-blood rhythm section—not just one person behind a bank of gear. The Aussie quartet\'s fourth album reinforces that notion, putting crucial human muscle behind the sparkling synth riffs. Sure, tunes like \"Footsteps\" are fueled by an Italo-disco-flavored, club-friendly feel. But it\'s Ben Browning\'s bass guitar lines that lend the greatest gravitas to the elegant synth-pop of \"In Memory Capsule,\" while Mitchell Scott\'s analog drum kit brings a bit of vital rock ballast to \"Dark Corners & Mountain Tops\" and the luminous, power ballad–esque \"Walking in the Sky.\" So while there\'s little on *Free Your Mind* that couldn\'t drive dancers to exhaustion, the album\'s essence is more than just momentum.

The debut full-length release from the duo of Sam France and Jonathan Rado—a.k.a. Foxygen—is exactly what we\'d been hoping for. In 2011, Foxygen unleashed the EP *Take the Kids Off Broadway*, which encouraged careful and gleeful discovery, layer by layer, revealing two talented guys with an uncanny skill for harvesting the past in order to nurture the future. On *We Are*, they further refine their methods. Lou Reed, The Kinks, and The Beatles all flavor the outstanding \"No Destruction\" and \"In the Darkness\" (we\'ll let you discover the configurations). The title track is an ultra-cool \'60s rocker with a touch of Elvis (or Suicide, take your pick), and \"Shuggie\" is a perfect hybrid of contemporary indie pop, Neil Diamond, and vintage soul. \"Oh Yeah\" is what The Jackson Five might\'ve sounded like had they been produced by Richard Swift (the production guru here). The smooth genre-splicing that deftly glues together \"On Blue Mountain\" is genius; fat bass lines and Elton John piano notes downshift into sultry, late-night meandering. Then vintage organs and shiny choruses rise to a blissful finish in a rush of chaotic guitar squalls. Did we use the word \"genius\" yet?

'We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace & Magic' is a precocious and cocksure joyride across California psychedelia with a burning, bursting punk rock engine. In the same year as Scott McKenzie the singer of "San Francisco (Be Sure To Wear Flowers In Your Hair)" leaves this mortal coil, Foxygen delivers unto us the dandy Glockenspiel-packing "San Francisco," which both circumvents and dissects McKenzie's tune and its many cousins of the era. "I left my love in San Francisco/(That's okay, I was bored anyway)/I left my love in a field/(That's okay, I was born in LA)" goes the lovely call-and-response chorus, slamming together the archetypal flower children of the 60s and the archetypal ADHD vapidity of our recent generations. Another highlight, "Shuggie," manages to fit all the light bounce of the song's namesake and the climbing choruses of ELO into it's 3 minutes while still filling the tune with imagery of "rhinoceros-shaped earrings" and haunted parlors. Every nook and cranny of the record is loaded with their unflappable, brazen personalities. Foxygen takes "swagger," that as-of-late misused adjective, back once and for all. It's flipping pyramids old and new upside down — from the miracle demo hand-off to their Richard Pryor-as-Jagger live shows to their singular idiosyncratic vision of rock n' roll.

Don\'t get the wrong idea—just because Julia Holter has expanded her sound and her scope for her third album, *Loud City Song*, it doesn\'t mean she\'s leaped ill-advisedly into entirely foreign waters. It\'s not like the electronic art-pop auteur has gone country or something—just that after earning attention with the previous year\'s *Ekstasis* and finding herself on a larger label with more ears angled her way, she decided to open things out a bit. Holter\'s hypnotic, blown-glass vocal tones and gracefully angular, electro-minimalist approach to making music are still the defining factors here, but this album feels richer and more varied than its predecessor. Touches like the jazzy acoustic bass of \"In the Green Wild,\" the staccato horn section punctuating the appropriately titled \"Horns Surrounding Me,\" and the late-night piano languor of \"He\'s Running Through My Eyes\" all enhance Holter\'s approach. When she lays into an ambient-pop version of Barbara Lewis\'s \'60s soul hit \"Hello Stranger,\" it seems like there\'s nothing she can\'t do if she sets her mind to it.

Loud City Song is the new studio recording by Los Angeles based artist Julia Holter. The album is her third full length release in as many years – following 2011’s groundbreaking debut Tragedy and last year’s follow-up, the critically lauded Ekstasis. Her first studio album proper, Loud City Song is both a continuation and a furthering of the fiercely singular and focused vision displayed by its predecessors, taking as it does Holter’s rare gift for merging high concept, compositional prowess and experimentation with pop sensibility and applying it to a set of even more daringly beautiful arrangements and emotionally resonant songs. The songs were coaxed out and finessed as demos in Holter’s bedroom studio and then coalesced into one thrillingly cohesive experience by Holter and co-producer Cole Marsden Grief-Neill and an ensemble of Los Angeles musicians. The result is an album of enormous ambition - taking its cues from the likes of Joni Mitchell and the poetry of Frank O’Hara but forging those inspirations into something resolutely unique.

James Blake\'s second studio album, *Overgrown*, is a hypnotizing foray from an artist whose influences have grown from the subtle, futuristic textures of his eponymous 2011 debut to embrace everything from gospel choirs to post-dubstep. On *Overgrown*, Blake further expands his omnivorous influences and yields eclectic results—from a hip-hop track featuring RZA (\"Take a Fall for Me\") to a piano ballad that foregoes synths and electronics entirely (\"Dlm\"). *Overgrown* is challenging but accessible, confidently pacing through a multifaceted garden blooming with complex electronic layers, styles, and emotions.

There is an early Daft Punk track named “Teachers” that, effectively, served as a roll call for the French duo’s influences: Paul Johnson, DJ Funk, DJ Sneak. Within the context of 1997’s *Homework*, “Teachers” presented the group as bright kids ready to absorb the lessons of those who came before them. But it also marked Daft Punk as a group with a strong, dynamic relationship to the past whose music served an almost dialogic function: They weren’t just expressing themselves, they were talking to their inspirations—a conversation that spanned countries, decades, styles and technological revolutions. So while the live-band-driven sound of 2013’s *Random Access Memories* was a curveball, it was also a logical next step. The theatricality that had always been part of their stage show and presentation found its musical outlet (“Giorgio by Moroder,” the Paul Williams feature “Touch”), and the soft-rock panache they started playing with on 2001’s *Discovery* got a fuller, more earnest treatment (“Within,” the Julian Casablancas feature “Instant Crush,” the I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-The-Doobie-Brothers moves of “Fragments of Time”). The concept, as much as the album had one, was to suggest that as great as our frictionless digital world may be, there was a sense of adventurousness and connection to the spirit of the ’70s that, if not lost, had at least been subdued. “Touch” was “All You Need Is Love” for the alienation of a post-*Space Odyssey* universe; “Give Life Back to Music” wasn’t just there to set the scene, it was a command—just think of all the joy music has brought *you*. “Get Lucky” and “Lose Yourself to Dance”—spotlights both for Pharrell and the pioneering work of Chic’s Nile Rodgers—recaptured the innocence of early disco and invited their audience to do the same. There was joy in it, but there was melancholy, too: Here was a world seen through the rearview, beautiful in part because you couldn’t quite go back to it. “As we look back at the Earth, it’s, uh, up at about 11 o’clock, about, uh, well, maybe 10 or 12 diameters,” the sampled voice of astronaut Eugene Cernan says on “Contact.” “I don\'t know whether that does you any good. But there\'s somethin’ out there.” This was the Apollo 17 mission, December 1972. It remains the last time humans have been on the moon.

Since The National\'s 2001 debut, the world-weary baritone of frontman and songwriter Matt Berninger has become one of the most compelling voices in Brooklyn’s well-groomed indie scene, begging comparisons to darkly tempered rock outsiders like Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen. The follow-up to 2010’s celebrated *High Violet* is a set of beautifully produced contemplations on shadowy love, self-destruction, and urban ennui. Chipper? Hardly. But songs like “Demons,” “Heavenfaced,” and “I Need My Girl” are impossible to shake.

In January 2012, following a twenty-two month tour to promote the band’s previous record, High Violet, guitarist Aaron Dessner returned home to Brooklyn, where the fitfulness of his newborn daughter threw Aaron into a more or less sustained fugue state—“sleepless and up all the time,” as he puts it. Punch-drunk, he shuffled into the band’s studio (situated in Aaron’s backyard), where he amused himself writing musical fragments that he then sent over to vocalist Matt Berninger. Recalls Matt of Aaron, “He’d be so tired while he was playing his guitar and working on ideas that he wouldn’t intellectualize anything. In the past, he and Aaron’s twin brother, Bryce would be reluctant to send me things that weren’t in their opinion musically interesting—which I respected, but often those would be hard for me to connect to emotionally. This time around, they sent me sketch after sketch that immediately got me on a visceral level." From beginning to end, Trouble Will Find Me possesses the effortless and unself-conscious groove of a downstream swimmer. It’s at times lush and at others austere, suffused with insomniacal preoccupations that skirt despair without succumbing to it. There are alluring melodies, and the murderously deft undercurrent supplied by the Devendorfs. There are songs that seem (for Matt anyway) overtly sentimental—among them, the Simon & Garfunkel-esque 'Fireproof', 'I Need My Girl' (with Matt’s unforgettable if throwaway reference to a party “full of punks and cannonballers”) and 'I Should Live In Salt' (which Aaron composed as a send-up to the Kinks and which Matt wrote about his brother). While a recognition of mortality looms in these numbers, they’re buoyed by a kind of emotional resoluteness—“We’ll all arrive in heaven alive”—that will surprise devotees of Matt’s customary wry fatalism. Then there are the songs that Aaron describes as “songs you could dance to—more fun, or at least The National’s version of fun.” These include 'Demons'—a mordant romp in 7/4, proof that bleakness can actually be rousing—and the haunting 'Humiliation' in which the insistent locomotion of Bryan’s snarebeat is offset by Matt’s semi-detached gallows rumination: “If I die this instant/taken from a distance/they will probably list it down among other things around town.” Finally there are songs—like 'Pink Rabbits' and the lilting 'Slipped' (the latter termed by Aaron “the kind of song we’ve always wanted to write”)—that aspire to be classics, with Orbison-like melodic geometry. In these songs, as well as in 'Heavenfaced', Matt emerges from his self-described “comfort zone of chant-rock” and glides into a sonorous high register of unexpected gorgeousness. The results are simultaneously breakthrough and oddly familiar, the culmination of an artistic journey that has led The National both to a new crest and, somehow, back to their beginnings—when, says Aaron, “our ideas would immediately click with each other. It’s free-wheeling again. The songs on one level are our most complex, and on another they’re our most simple and human. It just feels like we’ve embraced the chemistry we have.”

Though Chicago\'s Smith Westerns continue to expand their sound far away from their lo-fi beginnings, they haven\'t lost the wistful longing that makes their music such a serious headgame. Layers of instrumentation add some high-class psychedelia to the final instrumental pieces of \"XXIII,\" which starts like The Beach Boys gone sadcore before the final Pink Floyd–like grandstand, all in four and a half minutes. Producer Chris Coady (Beach House, Wavves) keeps the soft-focus lens on the group, giving such powerful pop exercises as \"Fool Proof\" and \"Best Friend\" an endearing sense of mystery that requires dozens of replays to fully appreciate the depths of emotion and harmonic weaving. \"White Oath\" shows a touch of John Lennon–to–Oasis balladry in its soothing early-morning gait. \"Cheer Up\" takes everyone back to the sockhop for a last dance before \"Varsity\" sends us on our way with another nostalgic look back to a past that few have had but many wish could be their own.

Virgins was recorded during three periods in 2012, mostly in Reykjavik, Montreal and Seattle, using ensembles in live performance. The sound palette of this work is wider, almost 'percussive' and tighter sounding than previous works. While this album remains committed to a painterly form of musical abstraction, it is also a record of restrained composition recorded live primarily in intimate studio rooms. This record employs woodwinds, piano and synthesizers towards an effort at doing what digital music does not do naturally—making music that is out of time, out of tune and out of phase. This follow-up to his Juno-awarded Ravedeath, 1972 album exchanges gristled distortion and cavernous sound in favour of a close, airy, more defined palette. At times it points to the theological aspirations of early minimalist music. But it is not 'fake church music' for a secular age, rather something like an attempt at the sound of frankincense in slow-motion, or of a pulsing, flickering fluorescence in the grotto. Some pieces go off the rails before forming into anything, others eschew crescendo compositional structures or bombastic density while going sideways instead. It points to the ongoing development of Hecker's work. It suggests illusory memories of drug- hazed jams or communal music performance that may have never been performed or been heard. These are mp3s that give confusing accounts either of sound's glowing physicality or of its prismatic evasiveness. It is an offering of music into the void, a gift of digital filler between distractions. Yet hopefully it also stands as a document of the enduring faith in the narcotic, enigmatic function of music as long-form expression.

The music recorded by Ernest Greene as Washed Out has been nothing if not dreamy, and on his second full-length, Paracosm, he takes the dreamlike, otherworldly atmospheres of his music a huge leap further. The title refers to a phenomenon in which people create detailed imaginary worlds, and the idea of escaping is all over Paracosm’s music and lyrics. Paracosm finds Greene reaching beyond the computers and synths that filled Washed Out’s previous recordings, expanding his sonic palette to include over 50 different instruments, the most significant of which turned out to be old keyboards like the Mellotron, Chamberlin, Novatron, and Optigan. “I’ve grown as a songwriter to the point where I want to have more involved arrangements, and that’s really hard to do with sampling,” says Greene. “These machines were kind of a happy medium: The sounds have a very worn, distressed quality about them, much like an old sample. But they also offer much more flexibility because they’re playable.” Following two years on the road in support of the critically-acclaimed Within And Without, and the lauded Life Of Leisure EP (which can still be heard during “Portlandia’s” opening credits), he and his wife, Blair (who plays in the Washed Out live band), relocated from the big-city hubbub of Atlanta to a house outside Athens, where Greene could shut out the real world in favor of an alternate universe of his own making. Listeners will be immediately struck by Paracosm’s seamless melding of organic and synthetic sounds, and its lighter tone. Greene says: “I knew from the beginning I wanted this record to be optimistic, very much a daytime-sounding album. I think the last record felt more nocturnal in some ways. This one I just imagined being outside, surrounded by a beautiful, natural environment.” With its gorgeous execution and uplifting attitude, Paracosm is primed to be this year’s summer record. And it promises to do what its name suggests: take listeners to a better world. Paracosm was recorded at in Atlanta with Ben H. Allen (Animal Collective, Deerhunter, Gnarls Barkley, Washed Out – Within and Without) at Maze Studios.

There are deftly wielded forces of darkness and light at work on Vampire Weekend’s third record. Elegiac, alive with ideas, and coproduced by Ariel Rechtshaid, *Modern Vampires of the City* moves beyond the grabby, backpacking indie of its predecessors. In fact, whether through the hiccuping, distorted storm of “Diane Young” or “Unbelievers”—a sprinting guitar-pop jewel about the notion of afterlife—this is nothing less than the sound of a band making a huge but sure-footed creative leap.

Sometimes stargazing and sunset-watching is just what the doctor ordered. For those moments, you might want the smooth R&B/rap-infused electronics of Ryan Hemsworth to pull tight around you, warding off the chill and soothing a rattled soul. *Guilt Trips* is the full-length debut of the Canada-born Hemsworth. Opening with the kaleidoscopic, slow-motion cartwheels of “Small + Lost” (featuring the sultry vocals of London singer Sinead Harnett), *Guilt Trips* reflects Hemsworth’s studied ear for collaboration and genre-melding. The floating “Against a Wall” features Miami rapper Lofty305, with the vocals playing second string to a heady ebb and flow of synth patterns and shifting backdrop textures. Baths (Will Wiesenfeld) appears on the mood-shifting “Still Cold,” giving the collection a skewed dose of pop melancholy. Instrumentals like “Weird Life” put atmospheric washes to work balancing out the crackle and pop of electronic polyrhythms and echoing vocal loops. “One for Me” drips with Tinashe’s buttery, soulful voice before the hard edge of rapper Haleek Maul glints on “Day/Night/Sleep System.”

Hailed as his "most diverse and satisfying statement to date“ (Resident Advisor) and a “victory lap for the power of the loop“ (XLR8R), THE FIELD’s LOOPING STATE OF MIND (KOMPAKT CD 94) – Axel Willner’s third full-length under his most prevalent moniker – ranked high in those 2011 charts, being featured on virtually every “best albums“ list known to man and reaching well into 2012 with sold-out concerts and its universally acclaimed remixes (KOMPAKT 263). Now, the Berlin-based Swede presents CUPID’S HEAD, the first album recorded solo since his debut FROM HERE WE GO SUBLIME (KOMPAKT CD 57) and a powerful touch-up of his landmark hypnotism, but also a departure for new shores both personal and musical. A first glance at the black cover already signals the profound changes entering the well-defined artistic framework of THE FIELD, where the tools may remain the same, but the outcome significantly differs from what has gone before. “When I started to work on CUPID’S HEAD, it was quite awkward“, says Axel, “I felt that I had nothing to put into a new album and I’m not the type to sit down and force something out in the studio. But then, after a few modest attempts, I got a first loop together and running.“ That initial loop acted as a breakthrough agent and became NO.NO..., an intense piece of concrete poetry dissolving in gorgeous swathes of sound and CUPID’S HEAD’s key tune…“it sets a mood for the entire album“. This mood is a discernibly complex one and not easy to categorize, for THE FIELD’s multi-layered approach to sound now transcends its technicalities and reaches far beyond mere production values, entering a phase where its original message has become the medium for wildly differing emotions that also draw from Axel’s many side-projects: “take the end of BLACK SEA for example and then listen to what I’ve done as BLACK FOG... there’s a strong connection“, says the producer, referring to the ubiquitous traces of his alter egos - like LOOPS OF YOUR HEART’s ambient bliss or BLACK FOG’s dark disco inspired by classic horror movie soundtracks - that can be found all over CUPID’S HEAD. From opening epic THEY WON’T SEE ME to the more upbeat (and very “Field-ish“) title track, the gauzy softcore of A GUIDED TOUR or the intriguing ambient ornamentation of 20 SECONDS OF AFFECTION, CUPID’S HEAD invites the listener to a highly immersive experience that feels as comfortable on the dance floor as it does in private. Continuously wandering off into the woods of its very unique sound world, the album finds not one, but many rabbit holes to bravely explore, basically rewriting the love letter to the loop that lies at the center of THE FIELD’s quasi techno to include more than that one recipient. More open than hermetic, CUPID’S HEAD presents itself as tremendously accessible work, whose focus lies well beyond the tunnel vision of studio-bound antics or sophisticated navel-gazing. Or, again in Axel’s own words, “CUPID’S HEAD is about visions of the future, tiny actions and their consequences, about sentimentality and most certainly... about life.“

Over the years, Chicago’s Russian Circles have honed their craft of creating brash, instrumental rock music that can be intimate and subtly emotive—not an easy feat without vocals. They diffuse what can be a disconnect in instrumental music with an organic warmth balancing beauty and beastliness, chaos and serenity. *Memorial* offers listeners the chance to naval-gaze in a variety of atmospheres: a soft gale of brooding, distorted guitar cedes for echoes of acoustic notes; avalanches of tumbling floor toms roil under staccato guitar shards; classic metal riffs chew up postapocalyptic scenery, letting rays of light stream through. The circling riff of urgency on the monstrous “Deficit” spools out in layers: a regal, elegiac opening shifts almost imperceptibly with a muted buzz of ominous guitar before a stack of drum rolls announces a stream of corrosive, metronomic guitar shards. They change tone slightly, but their intent never waivers. Russian Circles keep raising the bar on their own mixology.

After kicking in the door as a 16-year-old rap phenomenon, Odd Future\'s Earl Sweatshirt, now 19, is unleashing *Doris*. His first full-length album further establishes him as a promising talent in hip-hop. With production from The Neptunes (\"Burgundy\"), drunken ad-libs from RZA (\"Molasses\"), rapping by Frank Ocean (\"Sunday\"), and energetic cameos from Tyler, The Creator (\"Whoa\", \"Sasquatch\"), Earl\'s introduction is assertive. Swerving among hard raps, smooth melodies, and jazz-infused chords, *Doris* is eclectic, elusive, and hard to pin down. By the time the record finishes with the sweeping soul samples of \"Knight,\" Earl\'s outing makes for an entertaining ride.

Best known for ethereal and atmospheric post-rock, Sigur Rós\'s seventh studio album, *Kveikur*, makes a bold departure from that sound in favor of tracks that are darker, heavier, and louder. Filled with industrial crunches, cymbal crashes, and moody synths, *Kveikur* is both stunningly aggressive and intricate. The band\'s signature sounds—Jonsi\'s featherweight falsetto and bowed guitar—ring out across each song like a church bell in a thunderstorm. The impenetrable weight of tracks like \"Brennistein\" makes its uplifting songs (\"Stormur,\" \"Rafstraumur\") glow with transcendent warmth. All told, *Kveikur* is an exceptional achievement—simultaneously harrowing, heavy, and beautiful.

*Dream River* is Bill Callahan’s 16th (or so) release, including those he recorded as Smog. His music is mysterious and intense. Even after 25 years, it remains filled with surprises. Where in the past Callahan has thrived on repetition, here nothing is static. *Dream River* is sublime in its subtlety; each word and pause feels essential. The instruments are in sync with Callahan’s drowsy and understated baritone, and the arrangements fully support the freeform lyrics and open song structures. The music is lush and the backing band inspired, particularly the remarkable guitar work of Matt Kinsey. His guitar tones play off Callahan’s vocals beautifully as keyboards, flute, congas, and percussion add texture and motion on standouts like “Javelin Unlanding” and “Spring.” Another highlight is the opening “The Sing,” a Callahan classic featuring pedal steel, electric guitar, country fiddle, and a hint of mariachi rhythm. *Dream River* is an affecting album that ranks among Callahan’s best work.

Ol' man Eagle is back, floatin' Apocalyptically on a Whaleheart down the Dream River. Eight gentle percolations fire the pressure-cooker of life, dialing us into the Callahanian mind- and soul-set. Deep like aqua, soulful like man and animal alike.

On their self-titled first album, Zac Steinman and Sam Haar offered a heady but rhythmically precise blend of ambient, techno, and house sounds. But for their follow-up, *Swisher*, the New York City duo amp up the exploratory tendencies and jump the rails, heading into more atmospheric, less linear realms. That\'s not to say that much of *Swisher* doesn\'t revolve around danceable beats, but this time out Blondes seem to have more in mind than the dance floor. Tracks like \"Andrew\" and \"Poland\" have moments that wouldn\'t sound out of place at a club—but anyone trying to dance to the ecstatic electronic explosions of \"Rei,\" the robot sonogram \"Wire,\" or the tumbling, cinematic opening cut, \"Aeon,\" will face an uphill climb. Equally influenced by the German synth masters of the classic Krautrock era, the chill-out charmers of the \'90s, and the muses of the moment, *Swisher* shows Blondes\' knack for being both beatwise and bewitching: sometimes alternately, sometimes simultaneously, but always at just the right moment.

Swisher is a bold expansion of Blondes’ recorded repertoire and an evolution of their sound for intense club atmospheres. A meticulous production with a distinct percussive focus, Blondes’ second album exhibits the duo’s infatuation with the dark side of techno and immersive sound environments. For More Info: shop.igetrvng.com/collections/all/products/rvngnl21

Daughn Gibson developed a love of country music while working as a truck driver; his stage name is a pun combining country pioneer Don Gibson and blues-rocker Stevie Ray Vaughn. A physically imposing man with a deep, rich baritone voice, Gibson recorded his second album with guitarists John Baizley (Baroness) and Jim Elkington (Brokeback), supplementing his own synthesizers, loops and samples. The 21st-century rockabilly gallop of the opening \"The Sound of Law\" and first single \"Kissin on the Blacktop\" bring the most energy, but the wistful pedal-steel-driven ballad \"All My Days Off\" is equally effective.

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Though the Preservation Hall Jazz Band has been performing and recording since 1963, *That\'s It!* is their first album of entirely original material. Although it may seem counterintuitive for an ensemble devoted to maintaining the original spirit of New Orleans jazz to present all-new songs, co-producers Jim James (My Morning Jacket) and Ben Jaffe suffuse these tracks with an authentically vintage aesthetic that\'s enriched with the city\'s rich musical heritage. The style is raw and soulful, from the trumpet-blaring fanfare of the title track to the growling gospel of \"Dear Lord (Give Me the Strength).\" Still, despite all the brassy bombast, the album\'s most sublime moment comes with the haunting piano solo \"Emmalena\'s Lullaby.\"

At a moment when musical streams are crossing with unprecedented frequency, it’s crucial to remember that throughout its history, New Orleans has been the point at which sounds and cultures from around the world converge, mingle, and resurface, transformed by the Crescent City’s inimitable spirit and joie de vivre. Nowhere is that idea more vividly embodied than in the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, which has held the torch of New Orleans music aloft for more than 50 years, all the while carrying it enthusiastically forward as a reminder that the history they were founded to preserve is a vibrantly living history. Preservation Hall Jazz Band’s That’s It! (2013) is an eclectic album that draws on the collective experience of players nurtured in the New Orleans tradition but determined to build something fresh and exciting on that foundation. It marks an important milestone in PHJB Creative Director Ben Jaffe’s crusade to carry forward the Hall’s original mission while making it relevant to today’s audiences.” For his part, co-producer Jim James (My Morning Jacket) is convinced that the PHJB has a future as vibrant as its past: “The music will speak forever,” he says. “Will people stop listening to Beethoven? Will people stop listening to Bob Dylan? Will people stop listening to the Preservation Hall Jazz Band?” So It Is (2017) finds the classic Preservation Hall Jazz Band sound invigorated by a number of fresh influences, not least among them the band’s 2015 life-changing trip to Cuba. A visit to the island, so integral to the evolution of jazz and New Orleans culture in general, had long been in the works when President Obama’s diplomatic opening suddenly allowed for a more extensive journey than had originally seemed possible. Producer David Sitek, a founder of art rock innovators TV on the Radio who has helmed projects by Kelis, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Santigold among others, offered both a keen modern perspective and a profound respect for the band’s storied history. Both albums are now back in print on vinyl and CD via Sub Pop, which signed Preservation Hall Jazz Band in 2018, and will soon be releasing new music by the band.

Grouplove is a band seemingly powered by exuberance and optimism, even at its most bittersweet. The L.A.-based outfit\'s first album, 2011\'s *Never Trust a Happy Song*, beamed its music into the hearts and minds of the willing and enjoyed enormous success. Any band\'s sophomore release can be a tough one, and to Grouplove’s credit, it didn’t dither and wait five years; *Spreading Rumours* arrived just as the hottest tracks from its debut were cooling. Grouplove\'s confidence is justified. *Spreading Rumours* uses the same components—Christian Zucconi’s endearing pinched wail, rhythm-section parts that inspire handclaps and shouting, cellos and pianos exactly where they need to be—but this time, there’s a little less helium in the mix. The rollicking piano and gales of synth notes in the opener, “I’m with You,” give the tune some gravitas before it takes off in earnest, never to be roped in. A funky itch is scratched in “Borderlines and Aliens” with an insistent, kinetic geyser of keyboard notes.

By the time of *Southeastern*’s release, Alabama singer/songwriter Jason Isbell had spent as much time out of his old band, The Drive-By Truckers, as he had in it. After a clutch of celebrated releases with his new backing band, The 400 Unit, *Southeastern* is his first full-on solo effort, and dominated by quiet ballads and exceedingly personal songwriting. Whether writing about his own struggle with substance abuse or the trials of other carefully drawn characters—like the cancer patient at the center of “Elephant” or the protagonist of \"Live Oak,\" who feels strangely stuck between his troublesome past and his reformed present—the album contains Isbell’s most introspective tunes to date. All told, *Southeastern* is a collection from a cuttingly crafty songwriter at a crucial point in his life and at a high point of his career.

Spencer Krug (a.k.a. Moonface) is a heartfelt and intelligent singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist whose talents exceed the limits of music formatting. He’s already contributed mightily to albums by Wolf Parade, Sunset Rubdown, and many other groups, but none have provided him with the right format for these grand-piano based songs, which bleed with the emotional intensity of Meatloaf but with spare arrangements that keep the songs within a small club’s reach (piano and vocal). This isn’t even like previous Moonface releases. From the first notes of “Barbarian,” one imagines Krug alone on a stage bearing his soul under a single spotlight—sitting at a piano and only stopping long enough to denote a new composition or sneak a sip of water. “Everyone Is Noah, Everyone Is the Ark” adds trills and vocal gymnastics, and from there the songs flow like a guilty confession that’s been pent up for too long. Fans of Scott Walker, Laura Nyro, Robert Wyatt, and other complex, unpredictable songwriters should thrill to unravel these musical and lyrical mysteries.

Paul McCartney’s first album of original material in six years lives up to its *NEW* title. Recorded in part at London’s Abbey Road Studios and with a fleet of top-notch producers, from Mark Ronson (Amy Winehouse) and Paul Epworth (Adele) to Ethan Johns (Kings of Leon) and Giles Martin (son of Beatles producer Sir George Martin), *NEW* pulses with current energy and legendary talent. Coming after the sunset-feel of 2007’s *Memory Almost Full* and a 2012 album of traditional pop and jazz standards (*Kisses on the Bottom*), *NEW* isn\'t the sound of a 71-year-old rocker but of a vital musician hitting his spots. Aside from the Beatles history lesson of “Early Days,” McCartney focuses on a musical authority and melodic sensibility that’s timeless and up to date. A sense of psychedelia filters through tracks like “Save Us,” “Alligator,” “New,\" and “Everybody Out There,” along with a sense that he’s only getting started.

Mount Kimbie released a series of EPs that made them among the most name-checked outfits in the Warp Records\' roster, and they earned critical praise for their 2010 full-length, *Crooks & Lovers*. The return of the British production duo is filled with intricate, cerebral grooves, hazy digital textures, and cut-and-spliced samples that constantly muddle the boundaries between IDM, dubstep, garage, and hip-hop. It’s exciting stuff on its own, but the guest vocal of up-and-coming singer/songwriter/rapper Archy Marshall—a.k.a King Krule—makes riviting highlights out of “You Took Your Time” and “Meter, Pale, Tone.\" By the time the looping sample of \"Fall Out” fades, *Cold Spring Fault Less Youth* offers a head-spinning tour of genre-defying musical frontiers.