Stereogum's Top 50 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.

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.

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.

For their seventh album in 10 years, The Walkmen keep refining their strangely catchy brand of moody indie rock. *Heaven* is a bit slower than its predecessors, but Hamilton Leithauser’s wonderfully drawn-out and affected voice is there at the forefront, floating atop a choppy sea of strummed guitars and thick bass lines. Thanks to the renowned Seattle-based producer Phil Ek (his generation’s answer to Joe Boyd), the electric sparks of a great live show combine with the layered intricacies of a labored-over studio album. “Heaven” is a detuned jangle-romp that flirts briefly with being an anthem before going home and crawling into bed. “Line by Line” is an unabashed lullaby. “No One Ever Sleeps” is the soundtrack to a waking dream. And “Heartbreaker” is a suave little foray into the post-Velvets night. When Leithauser intones “We’ll never leave/The world is ours” on “We Can’t Be Beat,” you pray he’s even a little bit right.

Slimmed down to a duo, Brooklyn’s Chairlift combines a sharp pop sensibility with eerie techno ambiance on its sophomore album, *Something*. Beneath the music’s sleek surfaces, Caroline Polachek and Patrick Wimberly capture a sense of emotional volatility. *Something*\'s mood veers from the elegant melancholy of “Cool as a Fire” and “Ghost Tonight” to the jumpy angst of “Amaneaemonesia” and the surging, ominous thrust of “Sidewalk Safari.” The unearthly, echo-bathed “Turning” could fit comfortably on a David Lynch film soundtrack. Polachek’s lithe, immaculately controlled vocals remain seductive even when tinged with shadows of paranoia (as in “Guilty as Charged”). With seasoned pop hitmaker Dan Carey producing, *Something* emphasizes Chairlift’s affinity for ‘80s-era new wave sounds. “I Belong in Your Arms,” for instance, has the bass-driven aggression of a natural radio hit yet mixes its erotic abandon with enough weirdness to remain distinctive.

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 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.

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.

Although Chromatics have substantially changed their lineup since 2002, their 2012 configuration shows a huge development in both musicianship and songwriting. Now with deadpan chanteuse Ruth Radelet on the mic, *Kill for Love* opens with her demure vocals giving “Into the Black” even more tension than on Neil Young’s 1979 recording. The title track blends Italio Disco flourishes with \'90s-inspired indie rock, as Radelet contrasts a catchy vocal melody with a coolly aloof performance. She looks toward Velvet Underground–era Nico for inspiration in “The Page,” most noticeably when singing “I could be your mirror” over cold, gothic guitars that sound imported from The Cure’s *Disintegration*. “These Streets Will Never Look the Same” taps into every young woman’s desire to be Stevie Nicks, with a muted “Edge of Seventeen” guitar stutter that sounds identical to the original.

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.

The Men break all kinds of rules. Their music’s bark is as bad as its bite; it rages and pummels, burying perfectly capable hooks and melody under an avalanche of guitars. Yet they do it so smartly, so efficiently, that not a riff is wasted, not a layer of grime yearns to be wiped away. And they dare make instrumentals a large part of their weaponry (one even mixes twangy slide guitar with a Spacemen 3 haze). They serve up songs that easily crash the three-minute barrier, with two beauties clocking in at more than seven minutes each. The Men unabashedly beg, borrow, and steal: their last LP title (*Leave Home*) was lifted from The Ramones, and riffs and tones on songs like “Open Your Heart,” “Animal,” and “Oscillation” are inspired by antecedents The Buzzcocks, The Damned, and Sonic Youth. The clamorous assault of guitarists Mark Perro and Nick Chiericozzi recalls the sheer power of bands like Hüsker Dü and The Stooges. So why aren’t we complaining? Because each release by The Men leaves us a little more in awe, and they prove, again, that punk rock seeds sown 35 years ago can still sprout fresh, green shoots that impress and thrill.

Ironically referred to by Time Out New York as "Thurston Moore & the E Street Band," The Men have never been a band to play by categorical punk subgenre rules.

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.

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.

With leader Jason Pierce pushing his vocals closer to the front of the mix in recent years, *Sweet Heart Sweet Light* again finds Spiritualized coming close to accessible pop music in key spots. It provides clarity to a music that previously excelled as an oblique blur. \"Too Late\" cruises near convention, with a gentle folk melody that could pass for a Mojave 3 number. Elsewhere, there\'s still plenty of sonic detail; buzzing fuzz and psychedelic orchestration make \"Get What You Deserve\" a looping narcotic hit that ends in a torrent of feedback. \"Headin\' for the Top Now\" dives deeper into the distorted sonic soup that made Pierce\'s work with Spacemen 3 such a welcome enigma. Weirdest of all is the unexpected team-up with New Orleans\' gumbo-voodoo legend Dr. John for the co-written \"I Am What I Am,\" where both artists find a way to make their presence felt and reach a common ground, where gospel vamps marry Pierce\'s harshest sonic attacks.

Pierce is still using large orchestras and choirs to take his Robert Johnson blues way past the crossroads, to vistas that are as endless as they are empty. He's still singing his own rock'n'roll gospel: Jesus, fast cars, girls named Jane and Mary, pimps, death, fire, freedom, and God all show up, giving life to Pierce's alternate-universe Eden, inhabited by Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, self-loathing, and a spitty syringe. He's still his own genre-- this tiny voice elevated by the super-church-sized arrangements in his head. "I want to make music that catches all the glory and beauty and magnificence, but also the intimacy and fragility, all within the space of the same 10 seconds," Pierce has said. It's a mad goal. But it's also an inherently intriguing and universal one, just as ancient myths or Biblical tales can be. Pierce isn't religious, but he uses Christian language and figures as a thematic shorthand. "As you have a conversation about Jesus, you know you're talking to him about how it is to be fallible and question yourself and your morals," he told me. "When I sing, 'Help me, Jesus,' you know I'm not asking for help fixing the fucking car." Such an all-or-nothing attitude is risky, but that's the whole point. Pierce mixed Sweet Heart over eight drawn-out months under something of a drug-induced stupor. But it wasn't the kind of drug-induced stupor Pierce is known for. At the time, he was being hit with experimental chemotherapy treatments to combat a degenerative liver disease. (Three doctors are thanked in the liner notes; Pierce is apparently OK now.) During this album's creation, the singer referred to it as Huh?-- a nod to his jumbled mental state. All of which would make one assume that Sweet Heart would be messy, fucked-up, and completely depressing. That is not the case. This is probably the most uplifting album of his career.- Ryan Dombal Pitchfork.com 8.8/10

Purchase physical LP/CD/Cassette via the label store www.omnianmusicgroup.com/collections/captured-tracks/products/oshin One part THC and two parts MDMA; the first offering from DIIV chemically fuses the reminiscent with the half-remembered building a musical world out of old-air and new breeze. These are songs that remind us of love in all it’s earthly perfections and perversions. A lot of DIIV’s magnetism was birthed in the process Mr. Smith went through to discover these initial compositions. After returning from a US tour with Beach Fossils, Cole made a bold creative choice, settling into the window-facing corner of a painter’s studio in Bushwick, sans running water, holing up to craft his music. In this AC-less wooden room, throughout the thick of the summer, Cole surrounded himself with cassettes and LP’s, the likes of Lucinda Williams, Arthur Russell, Faust, Nirvana, and Jandek; writings of N. Scott Momaday, James Welsh, Hart Crane, Marianne Moore, and James Baldwin; and dreams of aliens, affection, spirits, and the distant natural world (as he imagined it from his window facing the Morgan L train). The resulting music is as cavernous as it is enveloping, asking you to get lost in its tangles in an era that demands your attention be focused into 140 characters.

We’re not sure if there\'s anyone left in Brooklyn who\'s not in a band, but another name to add to the “Wow, Brooklyn” list is the trio Nude Beach. Its music has a ragged, denim-wrapped feel, falling somewhere between American post-punk like The Replacements and The Hold Steady and the best commercial rock of the last 40 years (think Petty, Springsteen). However, both ends of the spectrum are clearly seasoned with early-‘80s power pop, and that’s not an easy thing to do. On the track “Cathedral Echoes,” the band sounds like it\'s playing in some dank, sticky-floored club in 1982: a trio of young scruffy guys wondering if they’re more Johnny Thunders or Rockpile, guitars blazing with a jangly edge that oozes melody. Singer/guitarist Chuck Betz’s sandpaper voice morphs easily from a strained croon reminiscent of Elvis Costello (“Loser in the Game”) into a Tom Petty yelp (“Love Can’t Wait”), but on songs like “Radio” and “Some Kinda Love,” he’s just a damn good rock singer with a short fuse. Drummer Ryan Naideau and bassist Jimmy Shelton provide a solid anchor for Betz’s fertile guitar work, and together they deliver a stompin’ good time.

Recorded over three weeks in a darkened room, the third album from Canadian singer/producer Grimes, a.k.a. Claire Boucher, packs an idiosyncratic punch. At once grating and soothing, melodic and dissonant, *Visions* manages to sound like a pop record above all else, with contorted melodies that seep into your brain. Boucher tangles up her eerie falsetto with crackling beats and pinging synths, resulting in a gnarled amalgam of textures—electro-pop rendered as splatter art. It\'s fascinating and wholly original all the way through.

After two albums of harmony-heavy dream pop, Beach House continued its dazzling evolution with 2010‘s *Teen Dream*, which we named Best Alternative Album in iTunes Rewind. The ethereal, hypnotizing melodies are as gorgeous as ever on the duo’s forthcoming *Bloom*. From the jump, a sinewy guitar melody gets blanketed by blissful atmospheric mist on “Myth.” While *Teen Dream* introduced more complexity (which is echoed on the weightless, organic melodies floating from composition like “Troublemaker”), *Bloom*’s “On the Sea” proves that Beach House can also drop our jaws (and give us chills) with stripped-down, piano-driven journeys.

Bloom is the fourth full-length album by Baltimore-based Beach House. Like their previous releases (Beach House in 2006, Devotion in 2008, Teen Dream in 2010), it further develops their distinctive sound yet stands apart as a new piece of work. Bloom is meant to be experienced as an ALBUM, a singular, unified vision of the world. Though not stripped down, the many layers of Bloom are uncomplicated and meticulously constructed to ensure there is no waste. Bloom was recorded in 2011 at Sonic Ranch Studios in Tornillo, TX and mixed at Electric Lady in NYC. The band co-produced the record with Chris Coady.

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 the acclaimed independent album that preceded his mainstream breakthrough, Quincy Hanley developed his gruff voice and reluctant gangsta persona with complex, emotionally ambivalent songs like “Sacrilegious.” Q and A$AP Rocky also establish what would be a fruitful chemistry on the hedonistic cult hit “Hands on the Wheel.”

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.

How to Dress Well is musician Tom Krell, one of a score of American artists making lo-fi bedroom pop. But his niche is particularly narrow, and it’s difficult to find another singer in the genre capable of setting the mood and hitting the notes that Krell has mastered. He grew up loving R&B, and he clearly learned a few things along the way; the ease with which he coaxes a note into silken bliss or coos atmospherics into a microphone is impressive. *Total Loss* is the Colorado native’s second full-length release, and those who were troubled by the hiss and grit of 2010’s *Love Remains* will be pleased to hear his new appreciation for cleaner, lighter production values. If you’re an indie pop fan who\'s unsure about R&B speaking to you, first give a listen to the slowly building, almost a cappella gem “& It Was You.” If Krell’s own backup harmonies and big, empty-room beats interlaced with crisp shakers and fingersnaps don’t pull you in, well, we might suggest a spiritual intervention. *Total Loss* feels well-named, with hollow piano loops, hazy strings, and sheets of echo coloring the collection with melancholy, while Krell’s voice alternately lifts and devastates.

A singing drummer who writes psychedelic pop music, Chris Cohen also records his own bass, Casio MT65, piano, and guitar. Tracks like "Caller No. 99" and "Monad" follow idiosyncratic forms, but are still melodic in an unconventional and homegrown way like the best of Robert Wyatt, Mayo Thompson, Syd Barrett, and Jerry Garcia. Overgrown Path unfolds its delicate and unexpected arrangements around Cohen s relaxed baritone, unhurriedly revealing the detailed world wrapped up in each song.

Joey Bada\$$\'s breakout debut *1999*, initially released in 2012 as a free mixtape, reveals the then-17-year-old as a true rap prodigy. Over jazzy production from his PRO ERA crew and repurposed beats from MF DOOM, Lord Finesse, and the late J Dilla, Bada\$$ delivers couplets with fervor, confidence, and a clear intent to impress—the same way he would have at his Brooklyn high school’s lunch table. Young Joey favors a vintage New York boom-bap aesthetic far beyond his years, forged by influences like Boot Camp Clik, Wu-Tang Clan, and Nas. The album\'s official release here, six years later, is as much a testament to its staying power as to the timeless sound of Joey Bada\$$\'s forefathers.

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Having formed during the winter of 1990, Boston quartet Converge is considered pioneers of metalcore. Their eighth studio album finds them reclaiming their sound — the preceding *Axe to Fall* was riddled with more guest musicians than a hip-hop album. Opening cut “Aimless Arrow” makes good on its name by throwing fans a curveball with Jacob Bannon trying his hand (or larynx, rather) at melody. But the following “Trespasses” returns the mentally disturbed frontman to his throat-ripping howls and growls with a feral abandon. But things get really interesting with “Sadness Comes Home,” a shape-shifting sock in the clock that opens with a Sabbathesque sludge before erupting like a sonic volcano of hyper-fast fretboard shredding and propulsive, explosive drumming that feel like a thousand fists punching one face. Over this Bannon channels all his inner demons into one ferocious beast doing battle with his own soundtrack. At under two minutes, “Vicious Muse” plays like a stormy tantrum tailor-made for the mosh pit. Conversely, “Coral Blue” stretches out almost five minutes of sludge-infused aural brutality.

*Tramp* is a study in controlled power. Soft yet muscular, vulnerable yet tough, the music moves at a languid pace while also conveying urgency and unresolved tension. Sharon Van Etten’s striking voice is the album\'s central feature. Her vocals are commanding throughout, resonating when surrounded by ample space (“Give Out”, “In Line”), in the midst of precise arrangements using strings, keyboards, and artful drumming (“Leonard”, “We Are Fine”), or backed by a squall of electric guitar (“Serpents”). Van Etten closely doubles her vocals on many tracks; by hitting two closely related notes at once, this gives her voice a haunting, ethereal quality. Produced by Aaron Desner of The National, the album also benefits from contributions by drummer Matt Barrick (The Walkmen) and vocals by Zach Condon (Beirut) and Jenn Wasner (Wye Oak). *Tramp* is a triumph of understated beauty and grace.

The shimmering sound of Sharon Van Etten’s Jagjaguwar debut album, 'Tramp', both defies and illuminates the unsteadiness of a life in flux. Throughout the 14 months of scattered recording sessions, Van Etten was without a home -- crashing with friends and storing her possessions between varied locations. The only constant in Van Etten's life during this time was spent in Aaron Dessner's garage studio. Tramp contains as much striking rock (the precise venom of “Serpents,” the overwhelming power of “Ask”), as pious, minimal beauty (the earnest solemnity of “All I Can,” the breathtaking “Kevins,” “Joke or a Lie”); it can be as emotionally combative (“Give Out”) as it can sultry (“Magic Chords”). Contributions from Matt Barrick (Walkmen), Thomas Bartlett (Doveman), Zach Condon (Beirut), Jenn Wasner (Wye Oak), Julianna Barwick, and Dessner himself add a glowing sheen to the already substantial offering.

Big Inner is Matthew E. White's debut album, a timeless record told in seven songs that mingle memory with the rawness of any given human moment.

After Portland-based The Shins received a GRAMMY® nod for 2007\'s *Wincing the Night Away*, mastermind James Mercer proceeded to collect another nomination (again for Best Alternative Music Album) as half of Broken Bells. Now Mercer has put the finishing touches on The Shins\' fourth studio album, *Port of Morrow*—writing every song, performing all lead vocals, and playing most of the instruments. It\'s highlighted by \"Simple Song,\" which boasts the band\'s hallmark baroque-pop leanings; it\'s like an intricate, modern spin on work by \'60s greats The Zombies and Love.

Combining lean, spastic post-punk with the fractured charm of ‘90s indie-rock pinups Pavement, Parquet Courts’ debut is probably the only place you’ll ever hear anyone shout about Socrates in such close proximity to shouting about donuts. Opening with the whip-smart one-two punch of “Master of My Craft” and “Borrowed Time,” *Light Up Gold* reads like a poetry chapbook and sounds like an overheated garage, anchored by offhand beauty (“N Dakota”), jagged, surrealistic rants (“Donuts Only”), and the locomotive drone of “Stoned and Starving,” which turns a routine trip to the corner store into an odyssey of ancient-Grecian proportions.

Little was said about Parquet Courts' debut effort, American Specialties. Released exclusively on cassette tape, the quasi-album was an odd collection of 4 track recordings that left those who were paying attention wanting more. A year of woodshedding live sets passed before the Courts committed another song to tape. The band's first proper LP, Light Up Gold, is a dynamic and diverse foray into the back alleys of the American DIY underground. Bright guitars swirl serpentine over looping, groovy post-punk bass lines and drums that border on robotic precision. While the initial rawness of the band's early output remains, the songwriting has gracefully evolved. Primary wordsmiths A. Savage and Austin Brown combine for a dynamic lyrical experience, one part an erudite overflow of ideas, the other an exercise in laid-back observation. Lyrically dense, the poetry is in how it flows along with the melody, often times as locked-in as the rhythm section. “This record is for the over-socialized victims of the 1990's 'you can be anything you want', Nickelodeon-induced lethargy that ran away from home not out of any wide-eyed big city daydream, but just out of a subconscious return to America's scandalous origin," writes Savage in the album's scratched-out liner notes. Recorded over a few days in a ice-box practice space, Light Up Gold is equally indebted to Krautrock, The Fall, and a slew of contemporaries like Tyvek and Eddy Current Suppression Ring. Though made up of Texan transplants, Parquet Courts are a New York band. Throw out the countless shallow Brooklyn bands of the blasé 2000's: Light Up Gold is a conscious effort to draw from the rich culture of the city - the bands like Sonic Youth, Bob Dylan, and the Velvet Underground that are not from New York, but of it. A panoramic landscape of dilapidated corner-stores and crowded apartments is superimposed over bare-bones Americana, leaving little room for romance or sentiment. It's punk, it's American, it's New York... it's the color of something you were looking for. Austin Brown guitar A Savage guitar Max Savage drums Sean Yeaton bass

Electronic pop auteur Flying Lotus (a.k.a. Steven Ellison) displays a new clarity of vision on Until the Quiet Comes as he reins in the scattershot tendencies of 2010’s Cosmogramma in favor of a more unified approach. The composer/producer still offers inspired pastiches of jazz, hip-hop and ambient sounds. But where his earlier work could be intentionally jarring, this album takes the listener on a smoothly-sequenced journey through inner landscapes. Ellison is aided by such notables as Erykah Badu (floating diva-like above the tribal groove of “See Thru to U”), Radiohead’s Thom Yorke (making his dark presence felt in “Electric Candyman”) and the Long Lost’s Laura Darlington (cooing her way through the eerie expanses of “Phantasm”). There’s plenty of sinewy pulsation amidst the billowing electronica, supplied by Stephen “Thundercat” Bruner’s insistent bass lines and Ellison’s jittery programmed beats. From the funkified growl of “The Nightcaller” to the robotic munchkin twitch of “Putty Boy Strut” and the sweet psyche-soul of “DMT Song,” Flying Lotus infuses the album with mystical vibes laced with subversive humor. Unearthly yet inviting, Until the Quiet Comes’ sonic spell is hard to resist.