Stereogum's 50 Best Albums of 2013

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.

Crisp drums, juicy chords, irresistible hooks—Disclosure’s debut album couldn\'t have sounded fresher. Brothers Guy and Howard Lawrence were just kids when their favorite styles were last in vogue, and they bring the right balance of innocence and insouciance to swinging drums and plunging organ basslines, while vocalists like Sam Smith and AlunaGeorge lend a soulful shine to the impeccably polished productions.

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.”

Sky Ferreira—a hugely talented pouty-lipped waif with an old soul—wrested what was to be her debut full-length away from her label and convinced them to grant her a do-over. The result was recorded in less than three weeks, then mixed and released in a whirlwind of alchemy. *Night Time, My Time* is an impressive and muscular collection. After a series of singles and EPs, Ferreira exudes her L.A. cool all over *Night Time*, from her nude photo on the cover to her edgy delivery. Her dusky throat and pop-be-damned attitude puts her squarely between artists like Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Icona Pop, swerving between an injured coo and a bad-kitty snarl with smooth deftness. Whether she\'s belting out the wistful ballad “24 Hours” or the stomping hissy fit “Nobody Asked Me,” there’s an appealing anthemic quality to these songs, written by Ferreira and a songwriting team that incudes producer Ariel Rechtshaid (Charli XCX, Usher, Haim). She strays into Madonna’s fertile territory on tunes like “I Blame Myself” and reaches into the icy underworld of ‘70s postpunk pioneer Alan Vega on “Omanko,” a clear measure of her intentions. The girl’s got it.

Coming out of Detroit, Danny Brown has gone from blog-friendly mixtape rapper to legitimate star in just a few short years. Now he\'s signed to A-Trak and Nick Catchdub\'s Fool\'s Gold Records, and *Old* is his third full-length (following *The Hybrid* and *XXX*). It\'s his first with major-label backing and officially for sale in stores. One of the most unusual, nontraditional emcees in the game right now, Brown has two distinct vocal styles: one mellow and laid-back, the other high-pitched and hyperactive. The songs here are also of the split-personality type; half are serious, darkly introspective, and thought-provoking (\"The Return\" with Freddie Gibbs, \"Gremlins\"), while the other half are spazzed-out let\'s-get-wasted-and-party anthems that wouldn\'t sound out of place on a LMFAO record (\"Smokin & Drinkin,\" \"Handstand\"). The production—from Oh No, SKYWLKR, Frank Dukes, and BadBadNotGood—is heavy on the freaky electronics, while vocal features come from A$AP Rocky, Schoolboy Q, Ab-Soul, and others. If you\'re already a Danny Brown fan, you\'re gonna love this.

This talented three-sister act received what felt like years of hype with its advance EPs before finally releasing its debut album, *Days Are Gone*—which sports a title seemingly aware of how much time passed while fans were waiting. With such expectations, *Days Are Gone* delivers on the hype, with self-penned songs so perfectly performed that it feels unfair that Haim has received so many comparisons to Fleetwood Mac, no matter how kind and worthy. A catchy tune like “The Wire” is so immediately likable that it\'d throw the rest of an album by a lesser act off balance. Except Haim is the real deal, and even the very next songs—“If I Could Change Your Mind,” “Honey & I,” “Don’t Save Me”—exhibit fresh excitement of their own propulsion. Producer Ariel Rechtshaid (Usher, Vampire Weekend) helped these songs flow with their identities intact. The album features the best attributes of \'80s pop; while those who lived through that era might feel a sense of untraceable déjà vu, everyone should marvel at the catchy, unforced fun heard throughout this remarkable debut.

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.

Like many musicians of his age, Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon isn\'t content with working solely on his day job; he spends just as much time on his side project. In Vernon’s case it’s with members of the post-rock groups All Tiny Creatures and Collection of Colonies of Bees. They come together as Volcano Choir, and the group\'s second album, *Repave*, shows discipline and intensity only hinted at on its casual debut, *Unmap*. “Alaskans” mutates from sounding like a lovelorn Barry White into a self-referential minor rock star during a spacey, acoustic ballad where the instrumentation appears to loop around a few piano and guitar riffs until it floats away. “Dancepack” sounds like the group decoding its own version of The Arcade Fire and its visions of grandiosity. Modern arena rock sounds pop up throughout, and Vernon’s singing veers from mock falsettos (“Keel”) to whiny, soul-demanding shouts and serious, spoken moments. Unlike arena rock bands of previous generations, there are no choruses that demand the spotlight and no rousing beats to organize the troops. This is art-rock for the experimental crowd.

It’s been four years since the first Volcano Choir album, 'Unmap', provided a glimpse into the collaborative mindset between a singer and a band that inspired him. Ideas were minted, written at a distance and realized in the studio; edges sanded back and flaps tucked in, the craftsmanship of the endeavor bearing evidence of the craft itself, and the technology used to assemble it. 'Unmap' strove to find strands of life between the ones and zeroes - a carefully constructive narrative that showed the listener through its darkest passages like a tour guide leading their wards through a cave, with nothing but a slack length of rope and the senses of sound and touch. Just as importantly, it brought these people together, setting an expectation: be your own band. Achieve transference. Learn how to play these songs in the live setting. Tour Japan. Do some dates in America. Pull the life from the record and share it with tiny segments of the world. 'Repave' brings Volcano Choir into sharp focus. The glitch-laden, cautious presentation of the band’s previous work serves as points of both reference and departure across these eight songs, the product of growing conviction and trust, of a fully-operational rock band, gifted in shading and nuance, and rumbling with power. It’s the sound of the creative process as it evolves and ultimately explodes, the seamless interleaving of electronic and acoustic/amplified instruments, multithreaded with the timbre and technology of the human voice as it enters and exits the equation. Moreover, Repave is the sound of confident musicians extending their reach to anthemic peaks and pulling back to reveal moments of real vulnerability, sure enough of themselves to let them stand on their own. If 'Repave' reminds you of other kinds of records from the past decade or so, it’s done so on the bonds between the members of Volcano Choir, how their friendships were fortified over the years-long process of writing and recording these songs. There is an openness to this work that won’t be taken for granted – real, moving tales of change, sadness, loss and truth grace the wordplay of these tracks, an account of life between the fringes of poetry and reality. With each verse you can sense that someone, somewhere is listening to this music and getting stronger, feeling better, learning to open up their soul. Volcano Choir is Jon Mueller, Chris Rosenau, Matthew Skemp, Daniel Spack, Justin Vernon and Thomas Wincek.

They’re called punk and metal, but at their hearts Norwegian berserkers Kvelertak are the living, fire breathing embodiment of rock and roll. “This is going to blow your brains out”, says singer Erlend Hjelvik.

While Waxahatchee’s debut, *American Weekend*, is often described as “haunting” (for good reason), the artist’s sophomore release exudes a more pointed, aggressive sound. Waxahatchee is Katie Crutchfield, a singer/songwriter and Alabama native doing what should be impossible by now: giving new life to a well-worn musical genre. On *Cerulean Salt*, she swings from stabbing, grimy guitars on the first two tracks to a relaxed and almost sweet-seeming saunter featuring tambourines and acoustic guitar (“Lips and Limbs“). Then a thudding, spare bass and hollow snare paint a bleak picture on “Brother Bryan.” That song opens with the line “I said to you on the night we met, ‘I am not well,’” which tells you what to expect lyrically on this beguiling work. Crutchfield’s an honest, straightforward artist who emits the smart pop-flavored confidence of Liz Phair, the mystery of Cat Power, and the melodic playfulness of Pavement, though Waxahatchee’s sound is considerably simpler. Whether she’s slamming her electric guitar or strumming an acoustic, the emotional nakedness of *Cerulean Salt* is a beautiful thing.

On her second full-length record as Waxahatchee, former P.S. Eliot singer Katie Crutchfield’s compelling hyper-personal poetry is continuously crushing. Cerulean Salt follows last January’s American Weekend -- a collection of minimal acoustic-guitar pop written and recorded in a week at her family’s Birmingham home. On this new record, Crutchfield’s songs continue to be marked by her sharp, hooky songwriting; her striking voice and lyrics that simultaneously seem hyper-personal yet relentlessly relatable, teetering between endearingly nostaglic and depressingly dark. But whereas before the thematic focus of her songcraft was on break ups and passive-aggressive crushing, this record reflects on her family and Alabama upbringing. And whereas American Weekend was mostly just Crutchfield and her guitar, Cerulean Salt is occasionally amped up, with a full band and higher-fi production. At times, Cerulean Salt creeps closer to the sound of PS Eliot: moody, 90s-inspired rock backed by Keith Spencer and Swearin’ guitarist Kyle Gilbride on drums and bass. The full band means fleshed-out fuzzy lead guitars on “Coast to Coast”, its poppy hook almost masking its dark lyrics. Big distorted guitars and deep steady drums mark songs like “Misery over Dispute” and “Waiting”. There’s plenty of American Weekend‘s instrospection and minimalism to be found, though. “Blue Pt. II” is stripped down, Crutchfield and her sister Alison (of Swearin’) singing in harmony with deadpan vox. She’s still an open booking, musing on self-doubt versus self-reliance, transience versus permanence. “Peace and Quiet” ebbs and flows from moody, minimal verses to a sing-song chorus. “Swan Dive” tackles nostalgia, transience, indifference, regret — over the a minimal strum of an electric-guitar, the picking at a chirpy riff and the double-time tapping of a muted drum. The album closes with a haunting acoustic-guitar reflection on “You’re Damaged,” possibly the best Waxahatchee song to date.

WINDHAND’S debut Relapse full length is nothing short of transcendent. On its surface it is a top 5 of all time doom record, but this record is for more than just doom-metal fanatics though—this is an epic record for all fans of guitar driven rock and roll. On Soma WINDHAND successfully make syrupy slow, downtuned doom hooky and anthemic. Propelled by singer Dorthia Cottrell’s beautifully haunting bellow, WINDHAND’s dual guitar attack sounds like the glorious misfit offspring of Black Sabbath and Nirvana. An easy candidate for heavy music record of the year.

A few years removed from *Acid Rap*’s 2013 debut as a free mixtape, it’s surprisingly easy to hear impending greatness in Chance the Rapper. This hindsight comes, of course, well after the BET, Soul Train, and NAACP Image awards for best new artist, the Best Rap Album Grammy, hosting *Saturday Night Live*, the noted influence on rap demigod Kanye West’s *The Life of Pablo*, the friendship with the Obama family, the Kit Kat endorsement, and so on. But it’s here, across 13 genre-melding tracks (14, if you count the second half of “Pusha Man”), on the follow-up to 2012\'s debut *10 Day*. In the moment, Chance the Rapper’s aesthetics—a distinct singing voice stretched in all directions over a jazzy confluence of choir melodies, R&B guitar lines, vintage soul samples, trap drums, golden-era hip-hop beats, and Chicago juke music—were something of an outlier within his city\'s emerging drill music scene. “I dropped *10 Day* the same year Chief Keef started blowing up,” Chance told Apple Music’s Nadeska. “All the labels came into Chicago and the drill movement came up and it was a lot of pressure. Also around that time was when Chief Keef worked with Ye, so there was a big question of, \'Yo, you\'re the dude that super loves Ye, you’re quote-unquote “conscious rap.” You should be doing this stuff.\' So I just had a lot of pressure to bring something.” Chance would inevitably link with Kanye, but most who found their way to *Acid Rap* were looking for an alternative to drill. Which is not to say that Chance didn’t acknowledge the plight of his hometown. Topically, the second half of the album’s “Pusha Man” (colloquially known as “Paranoia”) is one of the most affecting songs of the period, with Chance singing, “Everybody dies in the summer/Wanna say goodbye?/Tell \'em while it’s spring.” Elsewhere, he uses his melodic croak to reminisce on the simple joys of childhood (“Cocoa Butter Kisses”), the man he’s becoming (“Lost”), and problems within his relationship (“Acid Rain”). *Acid Rap*’s guests are mostly voices just left of hip-hop center (Childish Gambino, Action Bronson, Ab-Soul), but Chance also made it a point to include Chicago speed-rap legend Twista and to introduce listeners to the young genius of Noname. So who then, by way of this 13-song conflation of sounds and voices, could have have known that Chance the Rapper would go on to become one of the most celebrated voices in hip-hop and a force of pop culture in his own right? The answer, simply enough, is anyone who would have listened.

Singer, songwriter, and producer Dev Hynes’ follow-up to *Coastal Grooves* is a mix of hazy electronica, treading bass lines, and waves of stirring Prince-inspired vocals. From the stark midtempo rapping on “Clipped On” to the blog-buzzing harmonies of “Chamakay,” *Cupid Deluxe* is dimensional, hypnotizing, and amorphous. With contributors ranging from Chairlift’s Caroline Polachek to Dave Longstreth of Dirty Projectors, *Cupid Deluxe* is a distinct and mesmerizing album that proves Hynes is as talented at a soundboard as at a microphone.

Cupid Deluxe is the follow up to Devonté Hynes’ debut as Blood Orange, 2011’s Coastal Grooves. Since that album’s release, Hynes has written and produced music for the likes of Solange, Sky Ferreira, MKS, and more. Cupid Deluxe shows a more expansive aural palate than its predecessor while retaining the pop sensibilities that Hynes has showcased since his days in Test Icicles and Lightspeed Champion. Simply put, Cupid Deluxe perfectly highlights why Hynes has become one of the most exhilarating and prolific voices creating music right now. The album was produced by Hynes in his adopted hometown of New York City, mixed by Jimmy Douglass, and features amazing guest appearances by David Longstreth (Dirty Projectors), Caroline Polachek (Chairlift), Samantha Urbani (Friends), Clams Casino, Despot, Adam Bainbridge (Kindness), Skepta and many more.

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.

*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.

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.”

For his debut release on the reputed Warp Records imprint, Daniel Lopatin (a.k.a. Oneohtrix Point Never) draws somewhat on the compositional elements from his previous LP, *Replica*, but pushes them seamlessly to their breaking points—each track is a short film\'s worth of ideas and range. Referencing any number of touchstones from \'90s Internet culture to the subtle ambient works of Aphex Twin, to *Oxygene*-like swells of cinematic synths, the listener is left with almost zero ability to predict where a track will lead. Yet there\'s never the sense of being taken unexpectedly—Oneohtrix turns sound on its head to bring you to the place you\'re meant to go, which is sometimes many places at once.

Recorded and mixed by Justin Pizzoferrato at Sonelab, Easthampton, MA Mastered by Carl Saff, Chicago, IL Artwork by Sadie Dupuis July Was Hot Music (c) 2013 Carpark Records CAK97 Get IRL 12", cassette or CD here: store.carparkrecords.com/products/514163-cak97-speedy-ortiz-major-arcana

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.“

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.

* Includes PDF version of original 'Engravings' zine *

Margaret Chardiet was born and raised in New York City. As a founding member of the Red Light District collective in Far Rockaway, NY she has been a figurehead in the underground experimental scene since the age of seventeen. She points out that the environment there amongst so many other experimental artists (amongst them Yellow Tears & Haflings) inspired her to keep making increasingly challenging work. She describes her drive to make noise music as something akin to an exorcism where she is able to express, her “deep-seated need/drive/urge/possession to reach other people and make them FEEL something [specifically] in uncomfortable/confrontational ways.” Engineered by Sean Ragon of Cult of Youth at his self-built recording studio Heaven Street, Abandon is Pharmakon’s first proper studio album and also her first widely distributed release.

With her second full-length album, Janelle Monáe continues the imaginative narrative of her futuristic alter-ego Cindi Mayweather. This storyline started on Monáe\'s debut EP, *Metropolis: The Chase Suite*, and continued though the acclaimed 2010 full-length *The ArchAndroid*. The richly detailed tunes on *The Electric Lady* continue the story of Mayweather—a femme android superhero—through a funk-infused power struggle in the city of Metropolis. And even though Monáe’s concept is elaborate, hard-grooving tunes like “Q.U.E.E.N.” (feat. Erykah Badu), “Electric Lady,” and “Dance Apocalyptic” are undeniably magnetic and stand on their own merits. Tracks like “We Were Rock n\' Roll” and “It\'s Code” demonstrate Monáe’s gift for weaving influences of classic soul and exploratory funk (think Funkadelic and Nona Hendryx) with crisp neo-soul production and rock guitar flourishes. Prince makes a guest vocal on an album highlight—“Givin Em What They Love”—while reflexive ballads like “PrimeTime” (feat. Miguel), “Can’t Live Without Your Love,” and “What an Experience” feature some of Monáe’s most personal songwriting to date.

Bringing the flashiness and exuberance of Harlem with him, A$AP Ferg debuts with *Trap Lord*. Displaying anthem potential with the animated dance hall-inspired “Shabba”, combative “Dump Dump”, and adrenaline-filled posse cut “Work (Remix)”, Ferg continues the winning streak that crewmate A$AP Rocky started with flexing production and flaunting lyrics. Although the album taps into a youthful eagerness, features from hip-hop legends Bone Thugs-n-Harmony and Onyx help showcase a robust renaissance of street showmanship.

In 2011, Youth Lagoon\'s *Year of Hibernation* hit the ether; it was called a \"bedroom recording,\" but the set by Boise, Idaho\'s Trevor Powers felt like much more. Eerily intangible but melodic, elusive but memorable, *Hibernation* mesmerized fans and critics alike. Powers continues in the same vein with *Wondrous Bughouse*, which somehow feels as amorphous as *Year of Hibernation* yearned to be under its pesky melodies and song structures. Outnumbering the shapeless bad-trip excursions (\"Daisyphobia,\" \"Through Mind and Back\") are numerous actual songs, like the lovely \"Mute,\" with Smith\'s warbly voice reaching through white noise and gurgling keyboard haze, a churning rhythm section, and simple, searching guitar. \"Pelican Man\" has a Beatles-on-acid vibe that tumbles and glows under a blanket of scratchy reverb, and \"Attic Doctor\" is a woozy, calliope-soundtracked dream. \"Third Dystopia\" and \"Dropla\" build slowly and majestically, with delay and effects pedals running synths and guitars through a time machine that confounds the laws of aural physics. *Wondrous* is produced by Ben Allen (Washed Out, Deerhunter).

Beginning with the eerily prophetic opening bars of *LONG.LIVE.A$AP*’s title track—“I thought I’d probably die in prison/Expensive taste in women”—A$AP Rocky struck a unique tone on his major-label debut album. Obviously, hip-hop and the Black community at large had no shortage of justice martyrs and Dapper Dans prior to his auspicious arrival. Yet the artist born Rakim Mayers stood out most for defying trends as much as he set them, refusing to conform to anyone’s perceived norms. Guided by young luminary A$AP Yams and backed by the A$AP Mob, the Harlem-based MC didn’t sound like what people expected from NYC rap music at the time. Many of his early critics grappled with the overt Houston and, more generally, Southern hip-hop influences on his work, like “Purple Swag (Remix)” with Bun B and Paul Wall as well as the preceding *LIVE.LOVE.A$AP* mixtape. The deep, syrupy vocal effect employed for the choruses of “Goldie” and “PMW (All I Really Need)” recalls the legendary DJ Screw’s codeine-laced wizardry, while Clams Casino’s dissonant and narcotic production honors that legacy on “LVL” and the Santigold-featuring “Hell.” Yet any attempt by journalists or listeners to neatly regionalize Rocky’s musical vision for *LONG.LIVE.A$AP* would be futile given the choices and the execution that define the album. Untethered and inspired, “F\*\*kin’ Problems” defiantly mashed together Atlanta’s 2 Chainz, Toronto’s Drake, and Compton’s Kendrick Lamar into something that sounded as if it had come from nowhere or, perhaps, anywhere. On the magnificent posse exemplar “1 Train,” he wields verses by Action Bronson, Big K.R.I.T., Danny Brown, and Joey Bada\$$, among others, into a blog-rap weapon of mass appeal/destruction. Uncannily attuned to the zeitgeist, he even tapped emo dude-turned-arena DJ Skrillex for the ubiquitous trap-EDM hybrid “Wild for the Night,” which set the high-water mark for all other such rapper collabs in that part of the electronic music scene. Then there’s, of course, Rocky’s public image. Curating between streetwear cred and couture savvy, he simultaneously had the block and the runway in a proverbial chokehold. Marked by a dry-clean-only laundry list of luxe references, the Friendzone-produced “Fashion Killa” laid out a wardrobe manifesto almost as audacious as Karl Marx pamphlets or Martin Luther’s theses. Amid the song’s poetic playfulness lies a genuine heart, with its romantic reference to Rihanna and a desire for progeny “flyer than their parents” proving wildly prescient. A decade later, the power and potency of *LONG.LIVE.A$AP* has its tendrils all but fully embedded in the culture. As hip-hop’s tastes become increasingly more expensive and even rarefied, Rocky’s resonant impact appears inarguably clear.

The Athens, Ga.–based singer/songwriter Matthew Houck—a.k.a. Phosphorescent—works an alt-country/indie-pop territory occupied by Bonnie \"Prince\" Billy, Shearwater, and many other acts that get weirder the closer they come to turning pro. *Muchacho* plays out like a classic breakup album, with the singing laying claim to angst by shouting the lyrics into the night sky, where they bounce off the studio reverb caught in the stars. \"Song for Zula\" is the album\'s obvious high point: a hazy, lazy melody brought to life by a stuttering rhythm and a clunky bass line that provides the pulse. \"Terror in the Canyons\" evokes a mid-\'70s country tune rewritten by Ryan Adams and performed like Adams being backed by My Morning Jacket. \"Muchacho\'s Tune\" turns in a loose, achy vocal worthy of Will Oldham. \"Sun, Arise!\" and \"Sun\'s Arising\" bracket the album with multitracked vocal weaves; they provide a spiritual vibe that\'s both rustic and modern.