SPIN's 50 Best Albums of 2014

With 2011’s *Slave Ambient*, The War on Drugs offered a collection of emotionally rich, guitar-driven grandeur that earned songwriter/bandleader Adam Granduciel accolades from far beyond his hometown scene in Philadelphia. The War on Drugs’ fourth full-length operates with a bigger, bolder agenda—evident in the clattering electronics and hypnotic production of the nearly nine-minute opener, “Under the Pressure”. From there, *Lost in the Dream* unfolds with warm, melancholic rock that combines Granduciel’s mystical tenor with a blurry haze of vintage synths, chiming guitars, horn accents and reverb-soaked ambience. Uptempo tracks like “Red Eyes” and “An Ocean in Between the Waves” juxtapose pulsing, mechanical backbeats with droning synths. Ballads, like the heartbreaking “Suffering” and the gently paced title track, float along in a beautiful fog. After *Lost in the Dream* closes with a couple of minutes of wordless feedback, the album leaves a hypnotic, lingering impression.

'Lost In The Dream' is the third album by Philadelphia band The War on Drugs, but in many ways, it feels like the first. Around the release of the 2011 breakthrough 'Slave Ambient', Adam Granduciel spent the bulk of two years on the road, touring through progressively larger rock clubs, festival stages and late-night television slots. As these dozen songs shifted and grew beyond what they’d been in the studio, The War on Drugs became a bona fide rock ’n’ roll band. That essence drives 'Lost In The Dream', a 10-song set produced by Granduciel and longtime engineer Jeff Zeigler. In the past, Granduciel built the core of songs largely by himself. But these tunes were played and recorded by the group that had solidified so much on the road: Dave Hartley, (his favorite bassist in the world), who had played a bit on The War on Drugs’ 2008 debut 'Wagonwheel Blues', and pianist Robbie Bennett, a multi-instrumentalist who contributed to 'Slave Ambient'. This unit spent eight months bouncing between a half-dozen different studios that stretched from the mountains of North Carolina to the boroughs of New York City. Only then did Granduciel—the proudly self-professed gearhead, and unrepentant perfectionist—add and subtract, invite guests and retrofit pieces. He sculpted these songs into a musical rescue mission, through and then beyond personal despair and anxiety. 'Lost In The Dream' represents the trials of the trip and the triumphs of its destination.

Parquet Courts’ highly flammable third album clinches their place as one of the best—and smartest—rock bands of the post-grunge era. They\'re capable of mixing psychedelic looseness with the muscle of hardcore (“Sunbathing Animal”), odd post-punk experiments (“Vienna II”) with rambling, romantic ballads (“Instant Disassembly”), blues with Black Flag (“Ducking & Dodging”), and poetic visions with moments of hilarious plain-spokenness (“Whoever she might be going to bed with/You can read about that in her Moleskine,” goes a line on “Dear Ramona”). Students of history without being beholden to it, the band manages to synthesize about 70 years of guitar music into a strange, lopsided groove all their own.

The year and change since the release of Parquet Courts monumental Light Up Gold is reflected in ways expected and not with Sunbathing Animal, its sharper, harder follow up. Light Up Gold caught the ears of everyone paying even a little bit of attention, garnering glowing reviews across the board for its weird colors and raw energy, saturated punk songs that offered crystal clear lyrical snapshots of city life. It was immediately memorable, a vivid portrait of ragged days, listlessness, aimlessness and urgency, broadcast with the intimacy of hearing a stranger's thoughts as you passed them on the street. As it goes with these things, the band went on tour for a short eternity, spending most of 2013 on the road, their sound growing more direct in the process and their observations expanding beyond life at home. Constant touring was broken up by three recording sessions that would make up the new album, and the time spent in transit comes through in repeated lyrical themes of displacement, doubt and situational captivity. To be sure, Sunbathing Animal isn't a record about hopelessness, as any sort of incarceration implies an understanding of freedom and peace of mind. Fleeting moments of bliss are also captured in its grooves, and extended at length as if to preserve them. Pointed articulations of these ideas are heard as schizoid blues rants, shrill guitar leads, purposefully lengthy repetition and controlled explosions, reaching their peak on the blistering title track. A propulsive projection of how people might play the blues 300 years from now, "Sunbathing Animal" is a roller coaster you can't get off, moving far too fast and looping into eternity. Much as Light Up Gold and the subsequent EP Tally All The Things That You Broke offered a uniquely tattered perspective on everyday city life, Sunbathing Animal applies the same layered thoughts and sprawling noise to more cerebral, inward- looking themes. While heightened in its heaviness and mania, the album also represents a huge leap forward in terms of songwriting and vision. Still rooted firmly in the unshackled exploration and bombastic playing of their earlier work,everything here is amplified in its lucidity and intent. The songs wander through threads of blurry brilliance, exhaustion and fury at the hilt of every note. Parquet Courts remain, Austin Brown, A. Savage, Sean Yeaton, and M. Savage.

After a prolific first decade as a recording artist—between the band Rilo Kiley, her solo efforts, and side collaborations, she released eight full-length albums—Jenny Lewis took her time working on *The Voyager*, her third solo album. The six years that followed her sophomore release (2008\'s *Acid Tongue*) let Lewis refine and polish these 10 buoyant tracks. Working with two producers who are worthy of her wickedly intelligent songwriting—Ryan Adams and Beck—she devised her most mature and confident album to date. Lewis has rarely sounded in greater command of her versatile vocal gifts, from the sharp, vaulting chorus of the beat-driven opener, “Head Underwater”—which chronicles her emergence from a dark period (“I put my head underwater, baby/I held my breath until it passed”)—to the classic soul melody of “She’s Not Me” and the pleading western noir “You Can’t Outrun ‘Em.” The effervescent, summery production contrasts thoughtfully with Lewis’ piercing lyrics, which find her surveying life with restlessness and resignation in equal measure.

Following the liquid beats of his 2010 breakout, *Swim*, Caribou’s Dan Snaith has fallen further in love with the dance floor. In his entrancing follow-up, *Our Love*, Snaith blends house, hip-hop, garage, and vintage soul. On “Can’t Do Without You,” Snaith flips a slowed-down soul sample into a vocal mantra that eventually bursts amidst rave-ready synths, while on late highlight “Mars,” he mixes intricate drum patterns, hip-hop samples, and one very nimble flute melody.

Future Island’s fourth album and debut for 4AD deserves the title *Singles* since it does play out like an album of individual tracks with great commercial potential all joined as one. The Baltimore trio’s powerful sound is based in synths and electric basslines, from J. Gerrit Welmers and William Cashion, respectively. Together, they layer and push forward an orchestrated groove that’s both modern and steeped in the tradition of Philly soul, glam rock, and postpunk. Singer Samuel T. Herring—a stage hound who captures the audience’s imagination with the movements of a boxer—provides a soulful croon on record that can turn into a virile growl. It’s Joy Division as ballet for “Back in the Tall Grass” and Blue Nile/Talk Talk/Roxy Music for the inescapable hooks of “Seasons (Waiting on You),” “Spirit,\" and “Doves.” Producer Chris Coady (known for his work with Beach House and Grizzly Bear) works with Welmers’ synth loops and smartly composed parts until everything meshes together beautifully for a perfect musicality.

Contemporary R&B is enjoying an embarrassment of riches, with innovative albums by FKA Twigs, Banks, and Kelela stretching the genre\'s boundaries. Tinashe\'s debut raises the bar yet again. Building on the momentum of the roiling summer jam \"2 On,\" *Aquarius* features a who\'s-who of names, from R&B iconoclasts like Blood Orange\'s Dev Hynes to bankable pop pros like Stargate. \"How Many Times\" is a throwback slow jam enlivened by Future\'s staccato vocals, while \"Pretend\" out-Drakes Drake with its liquid production and earworm hook. Tinashe remains the star of the show, cooing, rapping, and ruminating (via several interludes). It\'s one of the year\'s most adventurous pop records.

Merrill Garbus and Nate Brenner believe that anything is possible and that every genre has its place somewhere in their music. That so many others relate to this eclectic, unpredictable mix of sounds proves they’re tapping into a sound that’s greater than themselves. Listeners love to be dazzled by sound and even the sharpest critics are left wondering what’s exactly happening here. Garbus chants into her vocoders and steps out into the spotlight for a guiding lead vocal on “Real Thing” that’s accompanied by a complex mix of odd rhythms, synthetic sounds and swooping bass lines. Producers Malay (Alicia Keys, Frank Ocean) and John Hill (Santigold, MIA, Shakira) keep the minimalism rocking. The synths frequently sound like sketches that have been cut-up beyond recognition while vocals sound like schoolyard taunts and personal moments caught on tape (“Hey Life,” “Stop That Man”). This mix of casual, random and precise captures a relatively conventional tune and pop arrangement in “Wait for a Minute” and a field holler for “Rocking Chair.” Eclecticism is in.

Betty Who brings a sharp intelligence and warm heart to her debut album, *Take Me When You Go*. The Australian songstress combines tracks from her two EPs with new material under the guidance of producer Peter Thomas, resulting in a high-gloss but very human set that suggests the balladeer passion of Dusty Springfield filtered through the hyperactive pop of Katy Perry. Big-beat workouts like “Somebody Loves You” and “Heartbreak Dream” are exuberant, body-grabbing, and lyrically substantial. The smoldering “Alone Again” and the ethereal “California Rain” reveal Who as a singer of depth and nuance with artistic ambitions that go beyond the next hit single.

You can purchase this album on vinyl or CD at store.spoontheband.com.

Tom Krell speaks in R&B, cloaked in the reassuring, unassuming wrappings of intimate indie pop. His voice is silky and limber and flows with ease and grace, like the best R&B singers—just without getting lost in the trappings of dance beats and saxophones. The Colorado artist has steadily refined his sound for his third album, “What Is This Heart?”. Krell’s cynical lyrics (“Tell me what love’s supposed to be,” \"Who knows if I love you, baby?”), his regal synth washes (“Face Again” has a stupefying numbers of soundscapes for such a cohesive track), and the collection’s dark, hope-perforated tones (especially on “See You Fall”) are inarguably seductive. Disembodied vocals, fingersnaps, and plentiful reverb might offer no real surprises, but delivering those (masterfully used) alongside sweeps of orchestral grandeur (“Pour Cyril”) and commercial pop sensibilities (“Very Best Friend”) takes special vision. Influences as disparate as Prince, Michael Jackson, Tracy Chapman, and even Whitney Houston have never been treated like this.

What Is This Heart? is an ambitious 21st century pop album that takes influence from artists as varied as Prince, Lou Reed, Burial and Tracy Chapman – creating and inhabiting its very own hinterland of fragility, sexuality and overwhelming joy.

*Transgender Dysphoria Blues* is a powerful album that features many changes. Two previous band members (drummer Jay Weinberg and bassist Andrew Seward) had left the group, leaving just guitarist James Bowman and guitarist/leader Laura Jane Grace. However, as the album title and songs make clear, Grace—who’d made previous references to wishing she’d been born a woman—was now going through the changes and issues that come with transitioning one’s gender. As music, the songs on *Transgender Dysphoria Blues* are more powerful than ever: electric punk-pop (in place of folk-punk-pop) that shows that this Florida band are fully capable of performing under pressure. In fact, Grace now writes songs with stronger hook-filled melodies and a better-defined sense of purpose. The emotions of the agitated bellows of “Drinking with the Jocks” and the hummable melody of “F\*\*\*MYLIFE666” are so refreshingly honest and heartfelt that it’s just as incredible that Grace and Bowman crafted the record as a universal cry for anyone who\'s struggled with their identity or place in the world.

Sia Furler’s sixth album immediately unveils its kinetic potential with the unreined anthem “Chandelier”. *1000 Forms of Fear* offers the artist’s most thunderous and frenetic sound to date, employing her powerful voice to punch through layers of tinny electric drums and glitchy synths. Sia teams with The Weeknd and Diplo on “Elastic Heart”, an uptempo electric ballad that uses a dizzying composition and polished harmonies to showcase both Sia’s talent as a songwriter and the album’s skilful production.

At two hours in length, *To Be Kind* shows Michael Gira’s Swans are as serious, demanding and extreme in 2014 as they were back in the early ‘80s when their music was either greatly praised or harshly condemned. There is little middle ground for this group and anyone spooked by the 12-1/2 minute Howlin’ Wolf Tribute “Just A Little Boy” should probably not go forward. However, for fans of slow, gothic, death-rattle Swans, the track is just one sign that the band’s sessions with John Congleton at Sonic Ranch, outside El Paso, Texas were an overwhelming success. Much of the material was developed live during the tours of 2012-13 and explains why there is so much to sift through. Special guests such as Little Annie, who duets with Gira on “Some Things We Do,” Cold Specks, whose multi-tracked vocals guide “Bring the Sun” and honorary Swan Bill Rieflin filled out the sessions that were recorded with a solid sextet in place. “A Little God In My Hands” adds a touch of Krautrock to its elliptical groove. The 34-minute “Bring the Sun/ Tousaaint L’Ouverture” is a complex epic worthy of their reputation. 

A NOTE FROM MICHAEL GIRA: Hello There, We (Swans) have recently completed our new album. It is called To Be Kind. The release date is set for May 13, 2014. It will be available as a triple vinyl album, a double CD, and a 2XCD Deluxe Edition that will include a live DVD. It will also be available digitally. The album was produced by me, and it was recorded by the venerable John Congleton at Sonic Ranch, outside El Paso Texas, and further recordings and mixing were accomplished at John’s studio in Dallas, Texas. We commenced rehearsals as Sonic Ranch in early October 2013, began recording soon thereafter, then completed the process of mixing with John in Dallas by mid December 2013. A good portion of the material for this album was developed live during the Swans tours of 2012/13. Much of the music was otherwise conjured in the studio environment. The recordings and entire process of this album were generously and perhaps vaingloriously funded by Swans supporters through our auspices at younggodrecords.com via the release of a special, handmade 2xCD live album entitled Not Here / Not Now. The Swans are: Michael Gira, Norman Westberg, Christoph Hahn, Phil Puleo, Thor Harris, Christopher Pravdica. Special Guests for this record include: Little Annie (Annie sang a duet with me on the song Some Things We Do, the strings for which were ecstatically arranged and played by Julia Kent); St. Vincent (Annie Clark sang numerous, multi-tracked vocals throughout the record); Cold Specks (Al contributed numerous multi-tracked vocals to the song “Bring the Sun”); Bill Rieflin (honorary Swan Bill played instruments ranging from additional drums, to synthesizers, to piano, to electric guitar and so on. He has been a frequent contributor to Swans and Angels of Light and is currently playing with King Crimson)... FULL MUSICIAN CREDITS:Swans: Michael Gira - vocals, electric and acoustic guitar; Norman Westberg - electric guitar, acoustic guitar, vocals; Phil Puleo - drums, percussion, dulcimer, piano, keys, vocals; Christoph Hahn - lap steel guitars, electric guitar, vocals; Thor Harris - drums / percussion, vibes and bells, wind instruments, handmade viola, vocals; Christopher Pravdica - bass guitar, acoustic guitar, vocals. Honorary Swan Forever: Bill Rieflin - (on multiple songs throughout the record) drums / percussion, piano, bass, guitar, synths, keyboards. Guest Musicians: Duet with MG on Some Things We Do - Little Annie. Strings and String Arrangement on Some Things We Do - Julia Kent. Background Vocals on Nathalie Neal, Bring the Sun, Screen Shot, Kirsten Supine - St. Vincent (appears courtesy of Loma Vista Recordings). Background vocals on Bring the Sun - Cold Specks (appears courtesy of Mute Artists LTD). Background Vocals on She Loves Us, A Little God in My Hands - Jennifer Church. More Musicians (Dallas): Violin - Daniel Hart; Mandolin - Rex Emerson; Trombone - David Pierce; Trumpet - Evan Weiss; Piano, Harpsichord, Synth - Sean Kirkpatrick; Piano – John Congleton. I love you! Michael Gira

Miranda Lambert is known for being a renegade, unafraid to let it all hang out—and this is probably her loosest album of all. She makes *Platinum* a party, opening up her door to a host of talented friends, including Little Big Town on the slow-rolling, R&B-flavored \"Smokin\' and Drinkin\'\" and Carrie Underwood on the blues-rocking roof-raiser \"Somethin\' Bad.\" And whether she\'s delivering a honky-tonk ode to aging, like \"Gravity Is a B\*\*ch,\" or the wry, folky anthem of anachronism \"Old Shit,\" Lambert sounds supremely comfortable in her own skin.

FKA twigs’ first full-length album brims with spartan, icy songs that whisk between distorted R&B and ethereal pop. While twigs’ pristine vocals and sensual lyrics are the cornerstone, *LP1* showcases the kind of confident production and instrumentation that play easily alongside celebrated pop minimalists like James Blake. Album highlight “Pendulum\" sees FKA twigs dabbling in manipulated vocals, as wavering guitars and electric drums stutter-step intoxicatingly, while “Video Girl” finds her melodic falsetto fluttering over churning, wobbling synths and creaking percussion.

On their third full-length, Cleveland-bred outfit Cloud Nothings give joy a hard, sharp edge. “I was feeling pretty good about everything so I just made stuff that made me happy,” says founding member and mild-mannered chief songwriter Dylan Baldi of "Here and Nowhere Else." “I had nothing to be angry about really so the approach was more positive and less ‘fuck everything.’ I just sat down and played until I found something that I like, because I was finally in a position to do that.” Utilizing every possible opportunity to write while on the road for 18 consecutive months following the release of 2012′s "Attack on Memory," Baldi presented an album’s worth of new material to his bandmates with just days before they’d enter the studio with esteemed producer John Congleton. “I’m pretty sure every song was written in a different country,” he says. “It’s the product of only having a couple of minutes here and there.” But Cloud Nothings would enjoy a full week with Congleton at Water Music in Hoboken, New Jersey, followed by three days of mixing at his own studio in Dallas shortly thereafter. The result is Cloud Nothings, refined: impossibly melodic, white-knuckle noise-rock that shimmers with sumptuous detail, from Baldi’s lone, corkscrewing guitar to his dramatically improved singing to bassist TJ Duke’s piledriving bass lines and drummer Jayson Gerycz’s volcanic fills. “It’s more subtle,” says Baldi. “It’s not just an in-your-face rock record. There’s more going on. You can listen to a song 20 times and still hear different little things in there that you didn’t notice before. Every time I listen I notice something that I didn’t even realize we did.” It’s yet another staggering show of a progress from a songwriter and band still coming into their own.

On his first album in 13 years, Richard D. James, the godfather of cerebral electronic music, is in top form. This isn\'t a comeback, nor a departure of any kind: *Syro* sounds like highly concentrated, classic Aphex Twin, a singular aesthetic that dates all the way back to 1982: beat patterns wiggle into the foreground, then disappear; analog synths snap, crackle and pop; moods vacillate between aggressively percussive and smoothly melodic. These tracks – they work together like one long set -- demand to be listened to with excellent headphones, the better to discern their highly intricate sequencing, arguably some of James\' most ambitious. Each tune is teeming with juicy noise, all of it gleefully arranged. What comes through most is joy: it sounds like James is having so much fun. 

At first glance, the pairing of producer Madlib and rapper Freddie Gibbs seems unlikely. The former is the ultimate crate-digger, known as much for his reclusive tendencies as his endless collection of obscure soul, jazz, rock, and other musical ephemera; the latter is a street-hardened former dealer who rhymes about the perils of the dope game. But they say opposites attract, and in this case their two aesthetics complement one another. Gibbs is a nimble, gifted rapper, his syllables quick-stepping around Madlib\'s many twists and turns, from the grainy \'70s soul-funk of \"Scarface\" to the half-time disco of \"Harold\'s\" to the hazy West Coast G-funk of \"Thuggin.\" The duo\'s credentials are strong enough to pull some of hip-hop\'s finest into their orbit: oddball Danny Brown contributes a verse to the squirming \"High,\" while the crews from The Wu-Tang Clan, Top Dog Entertainment, and Odd Future are all represented (via cameos from Raekwon, Ab Soul, and Earl Sweatshirt, respectively). As a final shot of gravitas, Scarface drops a verse on \"Broken.\" It\'s a deserved blessing from one of hip-hop\'s finest MCs to one of its most unlikely but successful pairings.

Singer/songwriter/guitar-shredder Annie Clark\'s fourth studio album as St. Vincent is, simply, her best yet. While her catalog is full of twists and turns, including 2013 David Byrne collaboration *Love This Giant*, this self-titled release is both audacious *and* accessible, a canny balancing of Clark\'s experimental leanings with her pop sensibility. Amid a flurry of sonic textures ranging from the clamoring horn section of \"Digital Witness\" to the subdued balladry of \"Prince Johnny,\" Clark critiques our technology-obsessed culture (\"Huey Newton\"), satirizes suburban ennui (\"Birth in Reverse\"), and shares about her love for her mother (\"I Prefer Your Love\"). Her anxieties laid bare, the songwriter asserts herself via pyrotechnic guitar riffs, rhythmic somersaults, and a wayfaring vocal range, resulting in a vertiginous set that\'s as dizzying as it is captivating.

In the short timespan that they’ve been a band, Little Rock Arkansas’ PALLBEARER have literally defined and set a new standard in the realm of modern-day doom metal. Their 3-song “The Legend” demo which was first released already had made a huge impression in itself amongst the doom metal scene. Said demo would just be a harbinger for what would become the band’s debut full-length LP, 2012’s “Sorrow and Extinction” which made a massive impact not only in the doom metal scene but the entire metal scene in itself along with crossing over even within more mainstream territory. In turn “Sorrow and Extinction” was one of the most praised metal albums of 2012, landing on pretty much every metal best-of year end list and being praised by such notable outlets as Pitchfork, Decibel, SPIN, Rolling Stone, Stereogum, and Entertainment Weekly, just to name a few. The band would do some great tour runs likewise in support of “Sorrow and Exctinction” touring with the likes of St. Vitus, Boris, and Enslaved, and along with playing such notable festivals as Roadburn, Hellfest, MDF, Scion Rockfest, Fun Fun Fun Fest, and Hopscotch Fest respectively. Now, with their new album “Foundations Of Burden”, PALLBEARER are prepared to take it to the next level unparalleled by creating an album much more advanced, moving, and sonically glorious than their debut. If “Sorrow and Extinction” created massive waves in the metal scene, “Foundations Of Burden” will create the stuff of legends. Captured by legendary producer Billy Anderson (Agalloch, Sleep, Neurosis, The Melvins etc.) at Type Foundry studios in Portland Oregon, “Foundations Of Burden” sees PALLBEARER expand their sound even further and going beyond into an emotionally driven sonic landscape more epic, vast, and ultimately more glorious and triumphant.

Every time Ryan Adams thinks he’s out, he pulls himself back in. It turns out the follow-up to 2011’s *Ashes & Fire* isn\'t the completed album he made with Glyn Johns but a self-produced collection of songs recorded at Adams’ recording studio, PAX AM. (Some tunes were coproduced with Mike Viola.) The mercurial singer/songwriter who broke up his band (The Cardinals), flirted with retirement, and formed a punk group sounds plenty much like the Ryan Adams we’ve come to expect. The alt-country sounds are scrubbed down for an electric guitar–based heartland rock that gets a touch of Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, thanks to the involvement of longtime Petty organist Benmont Tench. “Shadows” is the loudest cry in the dark, with Adams’ guitars ringing and clashing over Tal Wilkenfeld’s stalking bassline. “Feels Like Fire” follows up the existential ache, with Johnny Depp playing guitar and adding a backing vocal. “I Just Might” pulses with a hint of Bruce Springsteen’s “State Trooper.”

With 17 songs and over an hour of music, *Pom Pom* reminds us of the daring experiments from Ariel Pink\'s formative DIY releases. But the eclectic songwriting, turn-on-a-dime influences and lush production demonstrate just how much the California musician has evolved. Sure, the album is all over the place—we’re warmed by the ‘60s-influenced pop sunshine of “Plastic Raincoats in the Pig Parade” one moment and tangled in the knotty guitars of \"White Freckles” the next. But the everything-at-once aesthetic is held together by an undercurrent of electro melancholy that’s most evident on icy, synth-based tracks like \"Picture Me Gone” and the ultra-poised “Lipstick\". As the mosaic ends with the bittersweet shimmer of “Dayzed Inn Daydreams”, *Pom Pom*’s kaleidoscopic beauty leaves our head spinning.

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Taylor Swift\'s \'80s-inspired fifth studio effort is her first \"official pop album,\" with heavyweights like Max Martin, Shellback, Ryan Tedder, and Jack Antonoff helping construct a sleeker, glitzier sound. \"Shake It Off\" mimics \"Hey Ya,\" OutKast\'s own pledge of allegiance to populism, and echoes of Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, and Belinda Carlisle can be heard throughout. *1989* is a juggernaut, as brash and brilliant as the lights of Times Square.

Homeboy Sandman’s second full-length album on Stones Throw. "Hallways is simply the sound of a master rap writer at work" – Village Voice's #1 NYC rap album of 2014.

Cymbals Eat Guitars’ lead singer Joseph D’Agostino reveals his rock ’n’ roll heart on the Staten Island indie quartet’s third album, 2014’s *Lose*. Written in memory of his friend and musical collaborator Benjamin High, *Lose* also confronts the loss of one’s youth and one’s ability to believe that a single album can change the world. Of course, that hasn’t stopped the band from trying. And just as The Gaslight Anthem or The Hold Steady grab ahold of their guitars and aim for reviving the masses, Cymbals Eat Guitars have found their own distinct voice for rallying the troops. Songs like “Jackson,” “Warning,” “XR,\" and “Place Names” start the album on an aggressive note, with D’Agostino’s vocals working from a Conor Oberst–type cry to a Prince-like falsetto to get his point across. The instrumentalists aren’t afraid to explore the songs\' outer reaches, and whether it’s the gentler cadences of “Child Bride,” the epic stand of “Laramie,” or the slowly swaying waltz of “2 Hip Soul,” this is a band that play with determination and a sense that they’re still discovering where their music can go. 

Though beset by label delays and Twitter squabbles, no amount of innuendo could stymie the vividly original debut by Harlem pop iconoclast Azealia Banks. The snaking electro-house breakout \"212\" remains essential listening, flanked by a kaleidoscopic mélange of Latin, funk, trap, and hip-hop: forget naming styles, they\'re all here. Rapping and singing with equal aplomb, Banks anchors the spooky U.K. garage of \"Desperado\" as ably as she does the industrial skronk of \"Yung Rapunxel\" (the conflation of \"rap\" and \"punk\" there is no accident). The Ariel Pink collaboration \"Nude Beach A-Go-Go,\" with its echoes of Gidget and \'50s pop, is positively flummoxing in the best way.

Do to the Beast is the first new album by The Afghan Whigs in over a decade and a half. Founded in Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1988, the band has long stood out from its peers, with their savage, rapturous blend of hard rock, classic soul, and frontman Greg Dulli’s searing obsessions. The new album serves as both a homecoming – it marks their return to Sub Pop, for whom the Whigs were the first signing from outside the label’s Northwest base – and a glimpse into the future of one of the most acclaimed bands of the past thirty years. Do to the Beast proves an appropriately feral title for one of the most intense, cathartic records of Dulli’s entire career – one that adds fresh twists to The Afghan Whigs canon. On it, one finds the film noir storytelling of Black Love, the exuberance of 1965, the brutal introspection of Gentlemen, but rendered with a galvanized musical spirit and rhythmic heft that suggests transcendence and hope amidst the bloodletting. “A lot of records I’ve done stemmed from epochal experiences in my life – and this time I’ve used them all,” Dulli says. “These new songs are very visual to me. They come from the neighborhoods of my mind. It’s like Rashomon, with the story told from different points of memory.” Do to the Beast was created in L.A., New Orleans, Cincinnati, and Joshua Tree – a virtual map of the band’s past and present homes. “The album was named in Cincinnati, which is especially fitting,” Dulli notes. “I was recording a beatbox track for the song ‘Matamoros,’ and my friend Manuel Agnelli (of Italian rock band Afterhours) was in the control room. After I finished, he said it sounded like I was singing ‘Do to the beast what you do to the bush.’ And I thought, ‘Brother, you just named the record.’” Do to the Beast features Dulli and Curley joined by the Whigs’ current core players – guitarists Dave Rosser and Jon Skibic, multi-instrumentalist Rick Nelson, and drummer Cully Symington. While original Whigs guitarist Rick McCollum does not appear on the record, a panoply of notable personages from the group’s past and present make memorable cameos: soul maverick Van Hunt, Mark McGuire (Emeralds), Usher’s musical director Johnny “Natural” Najera, Alain Johannes (Queens of the Stone Age, Arctic Monkeys), Clay Tarver (Bullet LaVolta, Chavez), Dave Catching (QOTSA, Eagles of Death Metal), Patrick Keeler (Raconteurs, Greenhornes), Ben Daughtrey (Squirrel Bait), Joseph Arthur, and a host of others. For Dulli, these outside collaborators add crucial dimension. “Someone like Alain is a great texturalist,” Dulli says. “He and Mark McGuire create these, womblike tapestries and nuances. And Johnny Natural blew our minds when we played with him and Usher at South By Southwest. They were all instructed to play guitar not as guitar, but to create a supernatural sound – and each one of them ran with that.” Likewise, “It Kills” contrasts its lush Gamble and Huff-style orchestration with Van Hunt unleashing a passionate virtuoso howl – transforming the song in the process. “We’d brought Van Hunt on tour with the Whigs, and began duetting on his song ‘Mean Sleep’ together every night.,” Dulli notes. “He’d do this scream live that he didn’t do on the recording; and I thought to myself, ‘Wow, he sounds like Bobby Womack!’ When I wrote ‘It Kills,’ I wanted another voice on it, like a Greek chorus, so I called Van. I said, “Do whatever you like, just try not to use actual words – and if you can do that Bobby Womack thing, do that, too!” Indeed, Do to the Beast takes The Afghan Whigs to previously uncharted zones. That’s clear from the Lennonesque primal screaming announcing album opener “Parked Outside” – one of the hardest-rocking Whigs songs ever, propelled by a pile-driving riff that would make Malcolm Young envious. First single “Algiers,” meanwhile, hotwires a pounding “Be My Baby” drumbeat with spaghetti-western atmospherics. Elsewhere, “Matamoros” – named after a town in Mexico cursed by a series of Satanic murders – finds Dulli at his most psychosexually sinister: over its relentless, Zeppelin-meets-disco groove, he coolly threatens to expose “every little crime that you hide.” Such themes of duality, viscera, and love destroyed echo throughout tracks that dynamically flow in and out of each other – from ambitious revenge fantasy “These Sticks” to album centerpiece “Lost in the Woods.” Here, Dulli imagines himself on his deathbed in an especially haunting lyric, set to a swinging melody evoking Duke Ellington and Cab Calloway. “That song resonates the most with me,” he says. “It reminds me of my childhood; sitting in the back of my parents’ Bonneville hearing ‘You’re My Best Friend’ by Queen on AM radio. I played a distorted Wurlitzer at the end to capture that feeling; I did a lot of little personal homages like that throughout this record.” That there’s even a new Afghan Whigs release at all comes as something of a surprise, even to its members. After the band initially split in 2001, Dulli went on to considerable notoriety with his bands The Twilight Singers and The Gutter Twins (the latter an ongoing collaboration with close friend Mark Lanegan). While Whigs songs would pop up occasionally in his sets, Dulli didn’t fully engage that material again until a solo acoustic tour in 2010, which Curley joined for a few dates. The Afghan Whigs subsequently reunited for a successful 2012 tour that found them headlining major festivals like Lollapalooza, curating their own All Tomorrow’s Parties gathering, and selling out prestigious venues throughout the U.S., Europe, and Southern Hemisphere. But once the tour was over, so, apparently, were the Whigs. “We played a final New Year’s Eve show in Cincinnati,” Dulli recalls. “And I assumed we were done. We’d completed the cycle.” That wasn’t actually the case, however. The Afghan Whigs were unexpectedly brought back into the ring by The Fader, which had arranged for them to play a surprise collaborative set with R&B superstar Usher at 2013’s SXSW conference. “That moment crystallized the possibility that we’d record together again,” Curley says. “Soon after, Greg began compiling the ideas he’d kept in his pocket that he felt were distinctly Whigs songs.” Reunited anew, The Afghan Whigs will tour worldwide in support of Do to the Beast – kicking off an extensive jaunt with a performance at Coachella 2014 in April. “It feels like a celebration, and the start of something new,” Curley says. “Something that’s exhilarating and scary at the same time.”

Certain art forms are deceptively simple: calligraphy, still-life painting, dream pop. In the case of the last, details like the shimmer of a ride cymbal or the exact tone of a clean guitar can make all the difference. To listen to *Atlas*, the exquisitely produced third album from New Jersey\'s Real Estate, is to hear a quartet of master practitioners of the dream pop craft. Casually sanguine yet precisely composed, the album is moody but not mournful, peppy but not cloying. In the grand tradition of bands like Luna, Heavenly, and The Sundays, the songs here rarely feature more than a few chords, a few parts, or a few lyrical ideas (the suburbs, fatherhood)—yet everything fits together perfectly. Matt Mondanile\'s lead guitar is playful but not ostentatious, expertly complementing Martin Courtney\'s plainspoken vocals, his languid phrasings soaring above the gentle din. Snare drums sizzle and pop, basslines pogo gracefully, the mood is wistful and breezy. The cascading guitar riff of \"Talking Backwards\" will have you dreaming of The Smiths, while the cowpunk swing of \"Horizon\" shows off just how many tricks Real Estate have up their sleeve.

Despite his reputation as something of a hard-partying rock prankster (not many musicians play a guitar customized with an old beer bottle cap), Mac DeMarco, on record at least, has always been a hopeless romantic. And here, on his second album, the Canadian singer/songwriter effectively leans into loverman mode (just see “Let My Baby Stay”). But “Passing Out Pieces” is a particular marvel: Cast in cloudy synths and dark humor, it’s the sound of slacker rock’s clown prince getting serious.

“As I’m getting older, chip up on my shoulder…” is the opening line from Mac DeMarco’s second full-length LP ‘Salad Days,’ the follow up to 2012’s lauded ‘Mac DeMarco 2.’ Amongst that familiar croon and lilting guitar, that initial line from the title track sets the tone for an LP of a maturing singer/songwriter/producer. Someone strangely self-aware of the positives and negatives of their current situation at the ripe old age of 23. Written and recorded around a relentless tour schedule (which picked up all over again as soon as the LP was done), ‘Salad Days’ gives the listener a very personal insight into what it’s all about to be Mac amidst the craziness of a rising career in a very public format. The lead single, “Passing Out Pieces,” set to huge overdriven organ chords, contains lines like “…never been reluctant to share, passing out pieces of me…” Clearly, Salad Days isn’t the same record that breezily gave us “Dreamin,” and “Ode to Viceroy,” but the result of what comes from their success. “Chamber of Reflection,” a track featuring icy synth stabs and soulful crooning, wouldn’t be out of place on a fantasy Shuggie Otis and Prince collaboration. Standout tracks like these show Mac’s widening sound, whether insights into future directions or even just welcome one-off forays into new territory. Still, this is musically, lyrically and melodically good old Mac DeMarco, through and through. The same crisp John Lennon / Phil Spector era homegrown lush production that could have walked out of Geoff Emerick’s mixing board in 1972, but with that peculiar Mac touch that’s completely of right now. “Brother,” a complete future classic, is Mac at his most soulful and easygoing but with that distinct weirdness and bite that can only come from Mr. DeMarco.“Treat Her Better” is rife with “Mac-isms,” heavily chorused slinky lead guitar, swooning vocal melodies, effortless chords that come along only after years of effort, and the other elements seriously lacking in independent music: sentiment and heartfelt sincerity. We’re only at Part 2 and 1/2 (one EP and two LP’s in) into Mac’s career.

Avant-hip-hoppers Shabazz Palaces finally let it be known that they\'re the master duo of former Digable Planets member Butterfly (now known as Palaceer Lazaro) and instrumentalist Tendai “Baba” Maraire. After the critical success of their debut, *Black Up*, it’s likely the follow-up, *Lese Majesty*, will draw even more critical and commercial interest. The sounds themselves are low-key, letting the various instrumental patches respond to one another or enhance the atmospherics. Maraire excels at minimalism and texture, creating a complete track with the least amount of ingredients and thriving on providing seamless interludes. Lazaro provides a variety of vocals that shift from philosophical quips to word-associated ramblings where seriousness and clever thinking often work together. “Dawn in Luxor,” “Forerunner Foray,” and “They Come in Gold” form an intense opening trilogy, while “Motion Sickness,” “New Black Wave,” and “Sonic MythMap for the Trip Back” close the album with a similar focus.

'Lese Majesty' is the follow up album to 2011's 'Black Up' by Shabazz Palaces.

The title tune is a raging outlaw anthem full of stadium-sized hard-rock riffs, but it\'s followed by the sparsely produced, intensely inward-looking ballad \"A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young.\" Church manages to maintain the dynamic tension between these two poles throughout the album; \"A Cold One\" and \"That\'s Damn Rock & Roll\" explode with bluesy, roughneck rock licks, while \"Talladega\" and \"Like a Wrecking Ball\" stick to an impressively soulful simmer. The most strikingly ambitious track falls outside of this template, though; the eight-minute \"Princess of Darkness/Devil, Devil\" is an ode to surviving Nashville that starts with a poetic spoken-word piece and segues into a grinding blues-rock stomper. Now, *that\'s* how an outlaw rolls.

Featuring four college friends from Gainesville, Fla., Hundred Waters are an unlikely signing to Skrillex\'s OWSLA label, home to such EDM big shots as Porter Robinson and Zedd. Instead of dubstep bombast, this four-piece traffic in ethereal post-rock, a mix of soaring ambient textures, melancholic synth melodies, and fidgety rhythms, all anchored by Nicole Miglis\' seraphic vocals. With its celestial strings and deep bass, \"Cavity\" evokes Portishead, while the stuttering beats and airy melodies of \"Xtal\" (plus the title itself) are directly descendent from Aphex Twin. If there\'s one thing the band have in common with their iconoclastic label head, it\'s scale: both acts are enamored of grandly cinematic electronic statements, of which *The Moon Rang Like a Bell* is a stunning example.

TV on the Radio\'s fifth album sounds as fresh as their debut, proving that the band\'s incandescent fusion of alt, world, and electronic influences remains as inimitable today as it was in 2004. There are subtle tweaks to the formula, though: producer and founding member David Sitek employs a warmer sonic palette, and the songs aren\'t as frenetic. With its lockstep drums and whirring guitars, the single \"Happy Idiot\" nods to the saccharine precision of The Cars, while the horn section on \"Could You\" lends vibrancy to the song\'s motorik pulse. *Seeds* manages the neat trick of being the band\'s most accessible release to date while still being characteristically adventurous.

Sound artist and composer Ben Frost can both scare the pants off you and transport you to a distant place where, for a brief spell, nothing really matters except the aural experience around you—and it’s incredibly freeing. Frost’s work compels the listener to listen—he doesn\'t make music for backgrounds. On his fifth album, the artist cements his fondness for unexpected textures and drones, loud-soft lurching, and unsettling noise. From the muted chimes and bells set against the percussive clatter and dissonance of the remarkable “Venter” to the sustained, cicada-like hiss on “No Sorrowing” and the high-frequency static on “Sola Fide,” Frost continues to create sounds that feel unquestionably *his*, as experimental as they may be. “A Single Point of Blinding Light” is filled with mesmerizing, dread-filled, industrial clatter and chaos. “The Teeth Behind the Kisses” is a ghost in the machine, silently lurking and threatening although it’s barely there. Much of *Aurora* was composed while Frost was in the Democratic Republic of Congo, collaborating on a film reflecting the region’s notorious violence. Forget “Eraserhead.” This is the new industrial revolution.

A U R O R A is Ben Frost’s highly anticipated fifth solo release, his first since the widely acclaimed 2009 album BY THE THROAT. A U R O R A aims directly, through its monolithic construction, at blinding luminescent alchemy; not with benign heavenly beauty but through decimating magnetic force. This is no pristine vision of digital music, it is a filthy, uncivilized offering of interrupted future time where emergency flares illuminate ruined nightclubs and the faith of the dancefloor rests in a diesel-powered generator spewing forth its own extinction, eating rancid fuel so loudly it threatens to overrun the very music it is powering.

Chillwave, shoegaze redux, coldwave, garage revival, math rock ... with all the subgenres of indie rock out there, it must be difficult for some bands to figure out where they fit. Yet the name Tacocat pretty much points the way to this group’s territory (pop-punk nirvana). With three women (often decked out in polka-dot dresses) and one guy, all hailing from the Northwest, Tacocat are indeed fun, with songs about—well, you know: boys, aliens, dreaming, snow days. If you remember bands like The Muffs or The Fastbacks, Tacocat will sound familiar to you. If you’re a fan of newer female-led groups, like Shannon & The Clams or Grass Widow, Tacocat will feel like someone you met last week at a backyard barbecue. They do a superb job of meshing first-wave punk-pop girl groups with the nuances of today’s femme faves, and their songs are short and sweet, punchy as a prizefighter and catchy as that legwarmer trend that won’t go away. With punkier kickers like “Hey Girl,” sing-along pop treats like “Bridge to Hawaii,” Elastica-flavored nods like “Pocket Full of Primrose,\" and frothy surf songs like “Alien Girl,” *NVM* is one big party waiting to happen.

Following in the footsteps of fellow Black Hippy member Kendrick Lamar, ScHoolboy Q makes his major-label debut with *Oxymoron*, an album as thematically ambitious and sonically adventurous as Lamar\'s celebrated *good kid, m.A.A.d city*. Detailing Q\'s days as a drug dealer, hustler, and father, the record doesn\'t just open a vein; it practically bleeds to death, as on the album centerpiece \"Prescription/Oxymoron,\" a menacing track about the litany of bad vibes caused by drug use: \"I cry when nothing\'s wrong.\" Not that *Oxymoron* is a downer–far from it. \"Collard Greens\" is addictively rambunctious, daring listeners to not bounce with its circular bassline and jittery beat. And Q\'s flow is a thing to behold. He snarls, wheezes, croons, coos, barks, and caws, playing the lascivious lothario on \"The Studio,\" the boisterous party-starter on \"Man of the Year,\" and the unapologetic recidivist on, well, pretty much on every track. Indeed, Q more than lives up to his rep as Black Hippy\'s unhinged id.