SPIN's 50 Best Albums of 2012

Stepping away from both the pop songwriting machine and his former crew Odd Future’s stoned anarchy, Frank Ocean guides us on a meandering but purposeful journey through his own vast mythological universe on his major-label debut. *Channel ORANGE* breezes from sepia-toned Stevie Wonder homage (“Sweet Life”) to the corrosive cosmic funk of “Pyramids,” which stretches from ancient pharaoh queens to 21st-century pimps. Rendered in pristine detail with calm, dazzled awe, even his most fantastical narratives feel somehow familiar—at once unprecedented and timeless.

© 2012 The Island Def Jam Music Group ℗ 2012 The Island Def Jam Music Group

West Coast hip-hop elders like Snoop and Dre have virtually anointed Kendrick Lamar to carry on the legacy of gangsta rap. His second studio album *good kid, M.A.A.d city*, conceptual enough to be a rock opera, certainly uplifts the genre with its near-biblical themes: religion vs. violence and monogamy vs. lust. Verbally nimble, Lamar experiments with a variety of different lyrical styles, from the Bone Thugz-type of delivery on “Swimming Pools (Drank)” to the more straightforward orthodox G-funk flow on “m.A.A.d. City feat. MC Eiht.” Like prog rock, Lamar’s tracks have songs within songs—sudden tempo changes with alter egos and embedded interludes, such as unscripted recordings of his parents asking for their car back and neighborhood homies planning their latest conquest. These snippets pepper the album providing an anthropological glimpse into his life in Compton.

With fizzled record deals and forced image makeovers in his past, a frustrated Miguel Jontel Pimentel took control of his career and creativity on *Kaleidoscope Dream*. As a result, his second album not only sounded utterly singular—a swirling, moody mix of hip-hop, rock, and psychedelic soul—but it also placed the Southern Californian singer in a vanguard of new artists redefining the idea of the male R&B star (see also Frank Ocean, the Weeknd). Though just as sex-obsessed as the smooth lovermen who came before him, Miguel here projects a far more fractured and colorful view of romance tinted by deep self-reflection, hallucinogenic augmentation, and spiritual yearning. All of which tracks for a guy who grew up idolizing artsy types like Prince, Bowie, and Hendrix, but whose voice happens to sound like crushed velvet. To that last point, there’s “Adorn,” a tribute to wholehearted love that evokes Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” and shows just how sweet a Miguel album of simple, throwback R&B would be. But *Kaleidoscope Dream* is not that album—and it’s better for it. The next song, “Don’t Look Back,” lays shuffling ’60s pop over throbbing electro-house as Miguel warns a partner to run before the moon turns him into a womanizing beast. And then comes “Use Me,” where, over a plush blanket of grinding guitar, he cops to being nervous in bed. Whether he’s likening coitus to ballet (“Arch & Point”) or vamping with Alicia Keys over a tumbling drum loop (“Where’s the Fun in Forever”), Miguel proves himself a thrillingly unpredictable host. It’s no wonder this breakthrough LP led to sonic trysts with artists as wide-ranging as Kendrick Lamar, the Chemical Brothers, and Beyoncé.

A NOTE FROM MICHAEL GIRA “The Seer took 30 years to make. It’s the culmination of every previous Swans album as well as any other music I’ve ever made, been involved in or imagined. But it’s unfinished, like the songs themselves. It’s one frame in a reel. The frames blur, blend and will eventually fade. The songs began on an acoustic guitar, then were fleshed out with (invaluable) help from my friends, then were further tortured and seduced in rehearsals, live and in the studio, and now they await further cannibalism and force-feeding as we prepare to perform some of them live, at which point they’ll mutate further, endlessly, or perhaps be discarded for a while. Despite what you might have heard or presumed, my quest is to spread light and joy through the world. My friends in Swans are all stellar men. Without them I’m a kitten, an infant. Our goal is the same: ecstasy!" HOW THE SONGS CAME TO BE The songs The Seer, Ave. B Blues, Avatar, and The Apostate were developed organically as a group in rehearsals and on tour. They morphed constantly throughout the last series of Swans tours, and were captured and lovingly adorned in the studio. The remaining songs on the album were developed from the ground up in the studio with the participation and input of all the contributing musicians, guided by an invisible hand... Recorded at Studio P4 and Andere Baustelle in Berlin, by Kevin McMahon and at Marcata Studio, Gardiner, NY, by Kevin McMahon. Additional recording at Trout Recording, Brooklyn, NY, engineer: Bryce Goggin. Mixed by Kevin McMahon at Marcata. Produced by Michael Gira. FULL CREDITS SWANS Michael Gira voice, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, harmonica, casio, sounds Norman Westberg electric guitar, voice Christoph Hahn lap steel guitars; electric guitar, voice Phil Puleo drums, percussion, hammer dulcimer, voice Thor Harris drums, percussion, orchestral bells, hammer dulcimer, handmade violin thing, vibraphone, piano, clarinet, voice Christopher Pravdica bass guitar, voice, incredible handshake Honorary Swan: Bill Rieflin piano, organ, electric guitar, acoustic guitar, drums, percussion, casio, synthesizer, bass guitar, voice, bird idea SPECIAL GUESTS Karen O lead vocal on Song for a Warrior (Karen appears courtesy Interscope Records) Al and Mimi of Low co-vocals on Lunacy Jarboe backing vocals and voice collage on Piece of the Sky and backing vocals on The Seer Returns Seth Olinsky, Miles Seaton, Dana Janssen (Akron/Family) backing vocals on Piece of the Sky Caleb Mulkerin and Colleen Kinsella of Big Blood accordion, vocals, dulcimer, guitar, piano and assorted other instruments on the Seer Returns Sean Mackowiak (the grasshopper) acoustic and electric mandolins, clarinet, various songs Ben Frost fire sounds (acoustic and synthetic) on Piece of the Sky Iain Graham bagpipes on The Seer Bruce Lamont horns on The Seer Bob Rutman steel cello on The Seer Cassis Staudt accordion various songs Eszter Balint violin, various songs Jane Scarpatoni cello various songs Kevin McMahon additional drums on the Seer Returns, electric guitar, sounds on various songs Bryce Goggin piano on Song for a Warrior Stefan Rocke contra bassoon on the Seer Produced by Michael Gira. Recorded at Studio P4 and Andere Baustelle in Berlin, by Kevin McMahon, assistants Marco and Boris, and at Marcata Studio, Gardiner, NY, by Kevin McMahon. Additional recording at Trout Recording, Brooklyn, NY, engineer: Bryce Goggin, assistant: Adam Sachs. Mixed by Kevin McMahon at Marcata. Mastered by Doug Henderson at Micro-Moose Berlin. Pre-mastering by Jamal Ruhe at West Westside Music. Artwork: Paintings and Swans photo portraits by Simon Henwood.

Dark, crusty fuzz guitars dominate the music of Ty Segall, whose prolific output threatens to dilute the attention that should be paid to his committed allegiance to vintage rock \'n\' roll. Shades of psychedelia present themselves in the mercury-like lead guitar lines and translucent melodies that date themselves back to the mid-to-late 1960s. \"Love Fuzz\" takes on guitar work worthy of modern fuzzheads like the Bevis Frond and Dinosaur Jr. and matches it with a rhythm track copped from the Stooges and a mock-falsetto that exposes Segall\'s love for bubblegum 60s pop. \"Handglams\" throws in a descending guitar riff worthy of any garage-punk collection. Fans of MC5, The Pink Fairies, Blue Cheer, the grungier tones of Monster Magnet and the Stooges should find much to outright *love* with this swamp of sound. \"Gold On the Shore\" throws in an acoustic number with harmonies that are enhanced by a production that keeps things a beautiful blur. 

It ain't two records, but it is called Twins. Ty's new mind-blow won't just make you see double, it'll make you be double! Fold in on yourself endlessly, hold your own hand, and leap towards the mega-Segall-meteor of 2012, Twins.

*No Love Deep Web* is the equivalent of an exposed nerve: raw, throbbing, and deliriously painful. Where previous albums showcased Death Grips’ dense productions, this time the trio strip their sound to its barest essentials. “Come Up and Get Me” and “No Love” are skeletal monstrosities built from subterranean boom, technoid synths, and MC Ride’s tormented lyricism and gory acrobatics. The group also increase their reliance on programmed drums (as opposed to Zach Hill’s live drumming). As a result, cuts such as the paranoid “Lock Your Doors” possess a hulking, Techno Animal-style cyborg propulsion.

In 2009, Cleveland’s Dylan Baldi began writing and recording lo-fi power-pop songs in his parents’ basement, dubbing the project Cloud Nothings. His music quickly started making the Internet rounds, and fans and critics alike took note of his pithy songcraft, infectiously catchy melodies, and youthful enthusiasm. Baldi soon released a string of 7”s, a split cassette, and an EP before putting out "Turning On"—a compilation spanning about a year’s worth of work—on Carpark in 2010. January 2011 saw the release Cloud Nothings’ self-titled debut LP, which, put next to Turning On, found Baldi cleaning up his lo-fi aesthetic, pairing his tales of affinitive confusion with a more pristine aural clarity. In the interval since the release of Cloud Nothings, Baldi has toured widely and put a great deal of focus on his live show, a detail that heavily shapes the music of his follow-up album, "Attack on Memory." After playing the same sets nightly for months on end, Baldi saw the rigidity of his early work, and he wanted to create arrangements that would allow for more improvisation and variability when played on the road. To accomplish this desired malleability, the entire band decamped to Chicago—where the album was recorded with Steve Albini—and all lent a hand in the songwriting process. The product of these sessions is a record boasting features that, even at a glance, mark a sea change in the band’s sound: higher fidelity, a track clocking in at almost nine minutes, an instrumental, and an overall more plaintive air. The songs move along fluidly, and Baldi sounds assured as he brings his vocals up in the mix, allowing himself to hold out long notes and put some grain into his voice. Minor key melodies abound, drums emphatically contribute much more than mere timekeeping, and the guitar work is much more adventurous than that of previous releases. For all of early Cloud Nothings’ fun and fervor, Baldi admits that it never sounded like most of the music he listens to. With "Attack on Memory," he wanted to remedy this anomaly, and in setting out to do so, Baldi and co. have created an album that shows vast growth in a still very young band.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s first proper LP in forever is either a rallying cry released on the cusp of a contentious election cycle or a return to form with the forward momentum of a runaway train. The band of post-rock pioneers certainly isn\'t subtle on *Allelujah! Don’t Bend! Ascend!*. As you might imagine, given how…uplifting!…that!…title!…is!, Godspeed’s fourth studio album is heady but hopeful, with an ominous but non-overbearing mood that sounds like the collective’s secular take on a tent revival. With REALLY loud guitars. And divebombing drums. And strings that are plucked, slapped, and sideswiped. Of the two 20-minute pieces here, “Mladic” is the one you might not wanna play at midnight, what with the way it bursts through your speakers screaming after just a few minutes. “We Drift Like Worried Fire,” on the other hand, raises its fists to the heavens while showing the group’s many disciples how instrumental melodrama is done. As for the record’s other pair of tracks, they’re both riff-raking meditations on the Power of the Drone. Guess GY!BE wasn\'t kidding about that whole *Ascend!* thing.

These are the first new recordings by Godspeed You! Black Emperor since 2002. Featuring two twenty-minute slabs of epic instrumental rock music and two six-and-a-half minute drones, ‘ALLELUJAH! DON’T BEND! ASCEND! provides soaring, shining proof of the band’s powerful return to form.
 Having emerged from hiatus at the end of 2010, GYBE picked up right where they left off, immediately re-capturing the sound and material that had fallen dormant in 2003 and driving it forward with every show of their extensive touring over the last 18 months. The new album presents the fruits of that labour: evolved and definitive versions of two huge compositions previously known to fans as “Albanian” and “Gamelan”, now properly titled as “MLADIC” and “WE DRIFT LIKE WORRIED FIRE” respectively. Accompanied by the new drones (stitched into the album sequence on CD; cut separately on their own 7″ for the LP version), GYBE have offered up a fifth album that we feel is as absolutely vital, virulent, honest and heavy as anything in their discography.
 
We don’t have much time for mythology, but we’d be lying if we said the return of Godspeed You! Black Emperor in 2010 didn’t signify a whole lot to us as a marker from which to look back on the past decade, to reflect on what’s been gained or lost within the confines of independent music culture and what’s been gained or lost in the socio-political landscape writ large. Godspeed’s music will do that to you. It is music that bears witness to, channels and transforms this predominantly terrible, infuriating, venal and nihilistically sad story we’re all living, sharing, resisting, protesting, deconstructing and trying to change for the better. We think GYBE has once again provided a uniquely moving and compelling soundtrack for these acts of analysis, defiance and ascension. * * * Hard to believe a full decade has passed since the release of Yanqui U.X.O., the last album by GYBE. Never a band to care for conventional industry wisdom, Yanqui was released shortly before xmas 2003 with little publicity and no press availability, no marketing plans or cross-promotions or brand synergies, with back cover artwork tracing the inextricable links between major music labels and the military-industrial complex. Driven by word-of-mouth from a passionate and committed fanbase galvanized by the group's sonic vision and its dedication to unmediated, unsullied musical communication, the album found it's rightful audience. To suggest that such simple principles and goals have become harder to maintain and enact a decade later is an understatement. For all the contents and discontents – for all the "content" – of our present cultural moment, the idea of circumventing the glare of exposure, the massaging of media cycles and the calculus of identity management appears quaint, if not futile. But Godspeed is looking to try all the same. The band wants people to care about this new album, without telling people they should or talking about themselves. They want to hold on to some part of that energy that comes with the thrill of anonymous discovery and unmediated transmission, knowing full well that these days, anti-strategy risks being tagged as a strategy, non-marketing framed as its opposite, and deeply held principles they consider fundamental to health as likely to be interpreted as just another form of stealth. Truly, thanks for being open to hearing it.

Baroness audaciously moves far beyond the conventional confines of metal on its third album, *Yellow & Green*. This two-disc set (the latest in a series of color-themed releases from the Georgia quartet) incorporates an amazing array of hard and soft sonic textures as it freely shifts between delicate interludes and harrowingly heavy passages. “Twinkler” and “Cocainium” shimmer with Fleet Foxes–like vocal harmonies, while “Take My Bones Away” and “Board Up the House” flex the group\'s rock biceps with brutal riffage and slamming drumwork. Baroness knows how to delve into prog-rock complexity (“Psalms Alive”), ride currents of overdrive guitar (“Sea Lungs”), and settle into the misty shoals of melancholy folk (“If I Forget Thee, Lowcountry”). What binds these sprawling tracks together is the lyrics\' pervasively ominous mood, hinting at psychic crises and societal chaos with imagery recalling Pink Floyd at its most alienated. Songs like “Eula,” “Collapse,\" and “The Line Between” lace their darkly surreal visions with undercurrents of irony and spiritual longing.

Baroness' Yellow & Green finds a band that has developed into more than just giants of the metal underground, they are now fully formed hard rock titans. Fans of the band have come to expect nothing less than constant evolution from Baroness and that is precisely what the band has delivered, but in ways noone could have anticipated: the hooks are immediately seared into your brain, riffs that take just one listen to fully lodge themselves in your consciousness and vocals that are sung both heavily and beautifully. Some songs are more delicate than Baroness ever hinted to before while others are straight up arena rockers—yet all along Yellow & Green is unmistakably the Baroness that the world has come to love and look to for Record Of The Year quality rock and roll. It’s not hard to imagine any one of the 18 songs that fill out the Yellow & Green 2CD/2LP being rock radio anthems, and deservedly so. At no risk of hyperbole Baroness’ ‘Yellow & Green’ is on a very short list as one of the new millennium’s best rock records.

With disparate contributions from its four members, Grizzly Bear’s sound has long been multifaceted and thoughtfully layered. Repeated listening is frequently rewarded with newly discovered textures and details. “Sleeping Ute” opens *Shields*, the group’s fourth studio album, and is almost like a three-movement piece; alt-country–tinged guitar and bass introduce the song before a swirl of keyboards, buzzy guitars, and thunderous drumming transpires. A vocal and Spanish-style acoustic guitar outro make for an unresolved conclusion. *Shields*\' most straight-ahead modern rock number, “Yet Again,” is in the melodically accessible vein of “Two Weeks” from Grizzly Bear’s previous release, *Veckatimest*. A showcase for multi-instrumentalist Christopher Bear’s tuned percussion and lyrical drumming, “A Simple Answer” is bathed in emotive longing. There’s an addictive new wave pop sound to the nuanced “gun-shy,” while “Sun in Your Eyes” starts and ends as a piano ballad, transforming into a chamber rock *pièce de résistance* in between.

King Tuff is the new record from King Tuff—his first for Sub Pop and his second album overall. Was Dead, King Tuff’s 2008 debut, captured the attention of the rock underground and quickly blew through its limited pressing (it now resides on ebay, being snatched up for hearty sums). His gem of a new album was produced by Bobby Harlow, of The Go and Conspiracy of Owls, and recorded during a furious two-week run in Detroit. And Bobby has the following, among a great many other things, to say about it: “After investigating Was Dead I realized that, with his latest offering, King Tuff’s songwriting was stretching far beyond the thrill of the immediate dance-floor reflex and now revealed a songwriter with a keen eye inside everyone. That was the stuff that I was interested in. Embarrass me! I don’t give a fuck about your ex-girlfriend. We’ve created something here. King Tuff should not be inspected or even listened to with critical ears. Cut your ears off. Rock & Roll is meant to be blasted into your cells, penetrated, and absorbed. It’s a visceral experience. Seek solace in solitude when you’re dead. If you aren’t able to recognize the genius in this epic album, then you’re already dead. Kill yourself. Or get a job. Your choice." Please do not really cut off your ears or kill yourself. These are rhetorical devices meant to convey some variation on the following: King Tuff might just save your life AND your ears. All hail the King.

Take note: the shortest song on this five-track LP from the Arkansas doom-rock upstarts is more than eight minutes long. But who cares that brevity isn’t Pallbearer\'s strong suit? The punishing lethargy and smear of sludgy, distorted guitars give tunes like “The Legend” and “Foreigner” a furious, protracted intensity. An impressively mature debut, *Sorrow and Extinction* sounds a bit like playing a Sabbath record at 15 RPM. Or in a word: awesome.

Harmonicraft is Torche in their most unfiltered form and the result is a collection of songs that prove that heavy music can be progressive without being predictable. From the relentless groove of "Roaming" to the melodic grandeur of "Kicking" and sinister syncopation of "In Pieces," Harmonicraft stretches toward the sonic stratosphere and illustrates that the band are growing tighter and more powerful with each passing release.

On Dirty Projectors sixth album, Swing Lo Magellan, songwriter and leader David Longstreth shows he really doesn't know how to do the same thing twice. Where prior Dirty Projectors albums investigated 20th-century orchestration, west African guitar music and complex contrapuntal techniques in human voices, Swing Lo Magellan is a leap forward again. It's an album of songs, an album of songwriting. Swing Lo Magellan has both the handmade intimacy of a love letter and the widescreen grandeur of a blockbuster, and if that sounds like a paradox -- it's because it was until now.

Australian musician Kevin Parker is a bit of a musical savant. Although Tame Impala tours as a band, the group\'s psychedelic trip-pop is pretty much due to Parker\'s writing, playing, and even producing. Parker sidekick and collaborator Jay Watson shares songwriting credit this time around, notably on two standout tracks: \"Elephant\" (an impossibly delectable blend of Sabbath stomp and Syd Barrett trippy-ness) and \"Apocalypse Dreams\" (a gorgeous, chameleonic tune that reflects Parker\'s noted influence, Todd Rundgren). And though it\'s hard to hear the opening \"Be Above It\" or \"Mind Mischief\" without detecting some *Revolver*- and *Sgt. Pepper\'s*–era Beatles in the songs\' DNA, *Lonerism* is loaded with more synthesizers and ambient sounds than guitars. It\'s definitely a more pop-oriented album than the crunchy *Innerspeaker*, and it reveals another compelling side to Tame Impala. (Check out Watson\'s other band POND, and its LP *Beard, Wives, Denim*, for another dose of satisfying psych-rock.)

With decades of experience behind them, the members of Dinosaur Jr. know how to shift gears where necessary. The band\'s earliest works were bludgeoning efforts; even when there was a hummable melody in the chaos, the band shoveled a ton of guitar sludge on top. It gave Dinosaur Jr. an appreciable charm and clearly defined it as a new sort of guitar hero band. In 2012, the group has dialed back the assault to feature additional tonal colors. The opening track, \"Don\'t Pretend You Didn\'t Know,\" adds keys and a gentler jangle. \"Watch the Corners\" pushes the vocals to the front to prove that its melodies are as strong as ever. J Mascis\' guitar solos are still the gold standard for alt-rock (an unintentionally ironic role, considering that mainstream rock rarely rocked back in the \'80s). \"Almost Fare\" adds Lou Barlow\'s near-funky bass. Barlow takes the lead for the punk-pop \"Rude,\" which shows the kids how punk-pop is supposed to sound. His \"Recognition\" is another album highlight. No longer fighting to be heard but an acknowledged rock superpower, Dinosaur Jr. has rarely sounded more relaxed or more fun. 

'I Bet on Sky' is the third Dinosaur Jr. album since the original trio – J Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph – reformed in 2005. And, crazily, it marks the band’s 10th studio album since their debut on Homestead Records in 1985. Back in the ‘80s, if anyone has suggested that these guys would be performing and recording at such a high level 27 years later, they would have been laughed out of the tree fort. The trio has taken everything they’ve learned from the various projects they tackled over the years, and poured it directly into their current mix. J’s guitar approaches some of its most unhinged playing here, but there’s a sense of instrumental control that matches the sweet murk of his vocals (not that he always remembers to exercise control on stage, but that’s another milieu). This is head-bobbing riff-romance at the apex. Lou’s basswork shows a lot more melodicism now as well, although his two songs on 'I Bet on Sky' retain the jagged rhythmic edge that has so often marked his work. And Murph…well, he still pounds the drums as hard and as strong as a pro wrestler, with deceptively simple structures that manage to interweave themselves perfectly with his bandmates’ melodic explosions. After submerging myself in 'I Bet on Sky', it’s clear that the album is a true and worthy addition to the Dinosaur Jr. discography. It hews close enough to rock formalism to please the squares. Yet it is brilliantly imprinted with the trio’s magical equation, which is a gift to the rest of us. For a combo that began as anomalous fusion of hardcore punk and pop influences, Dinosaur Jr. have proven themselves to be unlikely masters of the long game.

The title *Interstellar* accurately reflects the atmosphere here—and considering Frankie Rose\'s previous work, it’s a surprising direction. She\'s a former drummer for Vivian Girls, Crystal Stilts, and Dum Dum Girls, and her earlier solo release (backed by her band The Outs) was noisy, reverb-rich, and influenced by \'60s girl bands. On *Interstellar*, she works with producer Le Chev to create a glossy and spacious synth-pop album that echoes \'80s new wave. The first crystalline notes of the opening title track signal the reinvention of her sound, which is anchored by sparkling, highly polished production. Her vocals are dreamy and clear, light enough to float pleasantly into layers of keyboards and synths. The songs are minimalist, precise, and ringing with clarity. “Know Me,” “Daylight Sky,” and “Night Swim” are bouncy and mesmerizing, with shimmering guitar figures and crisp drumming. The gorgeous ballad “Pair of Wings” has a similarly spare structure but unfolds with a slow, subdued power. It repeats the same sweet melody for three verses, adding texture until the song dissolves into space, creating one of the more memorable passages on an album full of meditative and ethereal moments.

We were all knocked out by the Frankie Rose and the Outs album from 2010, the effortlessness of its gorgeous girl-pop mantras, the intimate immensity of its Spector-esque walls of reverb, the beauty of a song sung sweetly over the most graceful two-chord vamps. But are you ready for the new Frankie Rose? – her transformation into a wholly other kind of pop, the reverie and revelation of "Interstellar," an album that floats free of its maker’s history – time spent with Vivian Girls, Dum Dum Girls, Crystal Stilts, and creator of one of the most breathlessly compelling girl-pop albums of the past few years – and offers the listener something strangely other, as alien as it is familiar, as compelling as it is enchanting. Talking with Frankie about the record, it’s clear she was itching for a new start. The first big indication – production by Le Chev, remixer supreme (for Lemonade, Narcisse, Passion Pit, and Frankie’s own “Candy”), an ensemble member of Fischerspooner, etc. “We recorded the record in a private studio dubbed The Thermometer Factory in Park Slope. I wanted this record to be totally different and in so doing I knew I had to work with someone who would lend fresh ideas and know how to make sounds that I wouldn't know how to make. I wanted to make a particular record and I knew Le Chev would be the one who could help me do it.” So, out with the reverb of the Frankie Rose and the Outs, and in with something altogether more glam, glittering, shivering. On "Interstellar" Frankie takes the lessons learned with her debut album – like reverb as the holy route to pop-grandeur, scaling a wall of teenage tears – fully digests, and transfers those skills into the brave new world mapped out by ten new songs. In its place is the confident swagger of a singer and auteur fully aware of how to build the simplest of pop moves into aching, full-blown melodramas, how to grab hold of an emotion and ride its darker waves. “I always have a big picture in mind,” Frankie reflects. “I knew I wanted a HUGE sounding record. Big highs, big lows, and clean. There is no fuzz on this record. I knew I wanted to make a streamlined, spacious record with big choruses that sometimes referenced 80s pop.” But that referencing never swamps the melodies: this record isn’t a retro trip. If anything, it liberates sounds familiar from that decade and gives them new context, breathes life into clay golems of sound that too often become basic, pre-set triggers. On "Interstellar," Frankie Rose goes epic, goes widescreen. “Had We Had It” spins the sweetest sugar from chords that ascend into the firmament, a heavenly, palatial blur. “Gospel / Grace” rumbles with passion, a New Order-esque one-finger guitar figure leading the listener into the choral depths mapped by the chorus. “Apples For The Sun” is breathtaking, with Frankie singing out across a lone piano, before a glorious web of voice and organ pirouettes into the air, an arbor of pleasure connecting the verse with its instrumental shadow, a coda that slowly slips from your view, before making the briefest, most tantalizing of returns. A lot of "Interstellar" seems to be about disappearing into, or finding and reveling in, this kind of imaginary zone, something Rose confirms: “The whole record is about dreaming of some ‘other’ place.” And as you drift into the heartbreaking “The Fall,” which floats out to sea on a lunar-aquatic cello riff that’s pure Arthur Russell, you’re ready to conquer those other places, too, to let Frankie Rose guide you out of the album’s spell and land you back in the sensual world, slightly altered, adrift and in awe. How does it feel to feel? With Interstellar, your emotions come out so alive, your only escape is to dive right back in.

There\'s not a whisper of second album jitters on this follow-up from fearsomely singular childhood friends Jamie Smith, Oliver Sim and Romy Madley Croft. But—while opener “Angel” plays like an even leaner take on their signature witching hour sound—there’s discernible evolution in all those sonic spaces. “Reunion” boasts the unexpected calypso of synthesized steelpan, and “Our Song” is a warped, strangely intimate duet that lets Madley Croft and Sim’s vocals intertwine like tangled limbs.

We are extremely excited to announce that World Music, the debut album by the band Goat is to be released on Rocket Recordings on 20th August 2012. For those who are unaware, Goat are a collective of musicians who hail from a small and very remote village called Korpolombolo in deepest darkest Sweden. Legend has it that for centuries, the inhabitants of the village of Korpolombolo were dedicated to the worship and practices of Voodoo. This strange and seemingly unlikely activity was apparently introduced into the area after a travelling witch doctor and a handful of her disciples were led to Korpolombolo by following a cipher hidden within their most sacred of ancient scriptures. The reason it led them there is unknown, but their Voodoo influence quickly took hold over the whole village and so they made it their home - there, they were able to practice their craft unnoticed and unbothered for several centuries. This was until their non-Christian ways were discovered by the Church and they were burned out by the crusaders, the survivors cursing the village over their shoulders as they fled. To this day, the now picturesque village of Korpolombolo is still haunted by this Voodoo curse; the power of the curse can be felt throughout the grooves of this Goat record. The nine track album follows the underground success of the now sought after 7” Goatman, which is also included in this selection. The band takes in many influences, from the Afro groove that is central to the album, through to head nodding psych, post-punk, turkish rock, kraut repetition and astral folk.

Though \"Wax Face\" opens *Putrifiers II* with the mind-melting ferocity that so intoxicated fans on past T.O.S. tunes, the album as a whole is a white-hot brew of everything the supreme psych-rockers do best. If one could distill their two 2011 releases into one edited, cohesive whole—or perhaps distill their entire vast catalog into such a thing—it would come awfully close to *Putrifiers II*. There are strings and woodwinds among other instrumental delights here; we love the droning cello and violins on the Velvets-ish \"So Nice.\" There are also mind-melters (\"Lupine Dominus\" snaps and growls with appropriately feral organs and guitar) and artfully sculpted bad-trip soundtrack music (\"Clouds #1\"). Plus, there are almost-breezy psych-pop tunes with summery strings (\"Goodnight Baby\"), as well as sweetly \'60s-style vocal harmonies and crisp, just-before-the-red production (\"Flood\'s New Light,\" \"Hang a Picture\"). Thee Oh Sees even toss in funhouse-mirror doo-wop (\"Will We Be Scared?\") and dew-kissed baroque pop (\"Wicked Pop\"). John Dwyer and his merry band continue evolving before our very eyes, and that is, literally, awesome.

In a primary color, Taylor Swift captures the essence of her fourth record: it represents her taste for vengeance, her hot-blooded romantic streak, and the neon-lit pulse of a dance floor. The banjo pluck of the title track and acoustic ballad “All Too Well” will resonate with country fans, but glossy singles like “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together\'\' and “I Knew You Were Trouble” seem destined for a broader audience—one that’s just as vivid as the title suggests.

Having waded deeper into electronic waters with *Merriweather Post Pavilion*, the onetime freak-folkies in Animal Collective discover vast new worlds of color and texture on *Centipede Hz*. “Applesauce” tosses jangly ‘60s garage pop down a funhouse hall of mirrors; “Today’s Supernatural” heaves like a roller-coaster in a hurricane, yet it\'s also one of their catchiest songs ever. “Rosie Oh” exemplifies their effortless balancing act between lilting vocal harmonies and wildly psychedelic details: Writhing like a bag of centipedes, it’s nevertheless eminently hummable.

On Centipede Hz, Animal Collective return to being a four-piece, an event that is reflected in the widescreen completeness of the album. This is a panoramic set of songs that shimmer with the confidence and wonder of Animal Collective’s unique inner logic and the luminous warmth of their sound world.

Producer Hans-Peter Lindstrøm credits his deep love for nightclub jams to the fact that there was never an anti-disco campaign in Norway. His sophomore studio album, *Six Cups of Rebel*, takes on another synth-based genre that’s been similarly demonized: prog. The unwinding flurry of electric organ notes on the opening song, “No Release,” seems born from the fingertips of Yes’ caped wizard, Rick Wakeman. But with the following “De Javu,” Lindstrøm sounds like a completely different musical beast. Hearty elements of dance floor funk expand the bottom end. Wonky, distorted bass lines accompany hard-grooving drum machine patterns that sound imported from Manchester’s infamous Haçienda club circa 1989. Lindstrøm fuses prog and disco in “Magik,” an especially infectious number spanning more than eight minutes of complex mathematical keyboard arrangements. It approximates a spiral helix of notes over a bygone bellbottomed strut. The title track’s braiding of *Miami Vice*–era synth-pop with disco’s wah-wah guitar nearly invents a new genre.

With bass player Chi Cheng still in a coma from a 2008 car accident, Deftones enlisted help from Sergio Vega (formerly of post-hardcore band Quicksand) for their sixth album *Diamond Eyes*. And now with 2012’s *Koi No Yokan* their seventh studio LP, Vega has contributed more to the band’s sound. This results in an album that’s noticeably more dynamic than preceding recordings. The Japanese titled *Koi No Yokan* (which translates to \"Anticipation of Love\") opens with “Swerve City,” a barrage of pummeling sludge-metal that’s instantly disarmed by Chino Moreno’s breathy, melodic singing. “Romantic Dreams” follows with cascading walls of guitar distortion that briefly recall *Siamese Dreams* era Smashing Pumpkins, save for Moreno’s vocals howling elongated vowels here to sound more like Ozzy than Billy Corgan. Standout single “Leathers” delves deeper into the band’s penchant for contrasting gossamer soundscapes with sonic temper-tantrums. After some ambient panorama the band explode like a volcanic avalanche. “Tempest” makes good on its title with a six-minute plus song that gradually builds on ascending layers of guitar distortion and harmonious melodies like a gradually violent windstorm.

If Nicki Minaj\'s *Pink Friday* was an exercise in camp, *Pink Friday ... Roman Reloaded* was a master class in pop absurdity. Released nearly two years after her transformative debut, the 2012 LP saw Nicki at her maximalist extreme, threading technically proficient raps with Day-Glo production and the fluttering cadences of her alter ego Roman Zolanski, the namesake of the album. The persona is as roaring and raging as it is dexterous. Whether channeling late 2000s Lady Gaga or trading bars with 2 Chainz, Nicki-as-Roman embraces all of her stylistic quirks, connecting them with quippy charisma and acrobatic lyricism. A slice of microtheater, \"Roman Holiday\" distills confidence and manic intensity through pulsing synths, jittery flows, and a faux-British accent; it sounds like a personality split. \"Stupid Hoe\" is Roman in full Mean Girl mode, with Nicki\'s prissy diction, dismissive lyrics, and a clap-laden instrumental playing out like a locker room roast session. Coated in an animated flow and a sun-soaked instrumental, \"Pound the Alarm\" is whimsical and unfailingly energetic, a soundtrack for Electric Zoo or a commercial for Disney World. She finds room for more conventional raps, too, trading bars with street-rap titans while recontextualizing her own roots in Queens, New York. \"Beez In the Trap\" sees her turn the sounds of dripping beakers into a trapper\'s anthem, flaunting fluctuating rhythmic tempos as she nods to regional hustlers in the mix. 2 Chainz matches her wit and agility on the track, while Rick Ross and Cam\'ron infuse effortless yet theatrical opulence into \"I Am Your Leader.\" The cypher-dwelling Nicki eats well, but sunshine electro-pop Nicki soars. If it isn\'t already, \"Starships\" will be seen as a stylistic microcosm for a generation of rap\'s colorful-wig wearers and over-the-top vocal spectacles designed for Broadway. Meshed with gleaming synths and Nicki\'s expressive, Auto-Tune–drenched vocals, it\'s the euphoria of a Barbie\'s triumph.

With *Synthetica*, Toronto-bred electro-rockers Metric continue to blend sharp lyrics, memorable melodies, and formidable beats with modern instrumentations. “Speed the Collapse” presents an unfolding drama driven by nervous-sounding drumming; “The Wanderlust” perfectly contrasts Emily Haines’ sweet singing with the legendarily unflappable delivery of guest duet partner Lou Reed. The horns toward the end of the title track, in turn, warmly complement its raw guitar power.

Never has such unadulterated glee, desire, and youthful exuberance been so perfectly filtered as it has on anthems like \"We Are Young,\" \"All Alone,\" or \"Some Nights\"; rarely has a pop vocalist come through such lavish instrumentation and prodigious production with the results Nate Ruess delivers. His voice reaches and stretches, always with enough plaintive sincerity and sparkling energy that it avoids saccharine pop purgatory with room to spare. Producer Jeff Bhasker (who produced Kanye West\'s *My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy*) knows the meaning of the word \"big,\" and precious few are the studio wizards who know exactly when to rein it in. *Some Nights* is an undeniably massive record, in all the good ways.