My Favorite Albums of 2015

I normally try not to get too Buzzfeed-y around here, but I let myself have fun at the end of every year. 2015 was a fun year in music, highlighted by the fact that over half of this list was nowhere near my radar 12 months ago. As much as I anticipate certain albums and count the days until a release, six or seven of my top ten every year is something I didn’t see coming. This year is no different. Without further ado, my (fourth consecutive?) Top 10 albums list:

10. Father John Misty — I Love You, Honeybear

Cynical, sappy, self-deprecating, and blunt, I Love You, Honeybear, by the alter-ego of Josh Tillman, is an interesting adventure from front to back. Lyrical dissonance abounds, as upbeat, sunny instrumentation is laced with self-loathing and underhanded love songs. “People are boring, but you’re something else completely,” Tillman sings. The same could be said for the album itself. Jangly, folksy musicians are a dime a dozen, but Father John Misty keeps this interesting with razor-sharp writing.

A song called “Bored In The U.S.A.” features a “save me white Jesus” outburst in the middle of the first chorus, and a “save me President Jesus” in the second. The whole thing is so rich that I found myself picking up a new nugget on each listen. It’s not happy. In fact, it’s pretty bitter and resentful. None of that should matter, because it’s really, really good.

Listen to: “Chateau Lobby #4”

---

9. The Weeknd — Beauty Behind the Madness

2015 was the year The Weeknd finally clicked with me. Aside from a passing enjoyment of a few early singles and features, I’ve never really bought into the hype. I’m extremely picky when it comes to R&B, and The Weekend was simply annoying to me. There are only so many hazy, drugged-out ballads I can listen to before I just give up. Hardcore fans have told me this album was a disappointing turn towards the mainstream, and that’s apparently what it took to catch me. This album is incredibly poppy, zipping right past “annoying radio hits” to Adele’s these-songs-are-everywhere-because-they’re-amazing territory.

Beauty Behind the Madness served as sort of a 2015 Michael Jackson album, both in style and success. “Earned It” tore apart the radio last year, going double platinum and peaking at #3 on the charts. How can you top that? By doubling down and hitting #1 twice in 2015 with “The Hills” and one of the biggest singles of the year, “Can’t Feel My Face.” Beauty Behind the Madness as a whole will go platinum shortly, and it’s no wonder. This is a parade of pop R&B magic.

Listen to: “Tell Your Friends”

---

8. Justin Bieber — Purpose

Alright, maybe it didn’t quite reach my overly-lofty expectations, but this was still a really good album, and I’ll defend that stance until I’m blue in the face. It’s not 2010 anymore. If you still laugh at Justin Bieber’s music, you can go back to listening to Mumford & Sons, or Katy Perry, or whoever else was a big deal five years ago. This was Bieber’s best shot to cement his place in the future of pop music, and he pretty much nailed it. A faulty album here and I think he would’ve been left in the dust with the Jesse McCarnteys and the Hilary Duffs of the world. Stacked front to back with huge production and grand slam hooks, Purpose checks all your boxes for pop music in 2015. It’s catchy. It’s genre-bending. It has good features. It’s extremely marketable, and most importantly, it’s really good. It seems like listeners are starting to sour to entire albums of bubblegum pop, and Bieber deftly avoids that trap here.

It has huge staying power, as nearly every song has single potential. “What Do You Mean?” kicked off at #1. “Sorry” currently sits at #2. “Love Yourself” found its way to #4. That makes 3-for-3 on singles hitting the Top 5. If Bieber decides he wants to keep doing the music thing, Purpose will be seen as a career cornerstone.

Listen to: “Company”

Read my review.

---

7. Drake — If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late

The “surprise, here’s an album” release strategy seems to be something that’s here to stay. In Drake’s case, not only was the release date a shock, but so was the entire existence of the album. Nobody had If You’re Reading This on their radar in February, yet this mixtape-y album managed to be a major milestone in music this year.

If I were forced to pinpoint a favorite singular musical moment in 2015, it would be awfully hard to find anything that topped the beat switch on “Know Yourself.” I’m pretty sure nobody knew what Drake was talking about when he shouted that he was running through the 6 with his woes, but that didn’t stop it from being a smash. I think roughly half the tracks on the album underwent a stretch as an anthem. When Drake’s career is reviewed in hindsight, we’ll wonder how he was able to cram so many good songs into one project and keep it under wraps until precisely the right instant. The man has an incredible knack for timing, and this is further proof.

Listen to: “Know Yourself”

---

6. The World Is A Beautiful Place And I Am No Longer Afraid To Die — Harmlessness

Harmlessness is stubborn, headstrong, and powerful. Harmlessness is the calculated, angry response that follows life’s beatdown. Harmlessness feels like a shouting, teary-eyed monologue, which is what made me fall in love.

Humans by nature are drawn to comeback stories and tales of underdog success. Harmlessness is the musical form of that. So many parts of this album made me feel like applauding. The opener (“You Can’t Live There Forever”), the single (“January 10th, 2014”), and one of the closers (“I Can Be Afraid of Anything”) all come to mind. Rather than wallow in sorrow, this album makes me want to fight back. I really, really like this album, so its placement in the bottom half of this list should tell you all you need to know about how fun 2015 was.

Listen to: “January 10th, 2014”

Read my review.

---

5. Runaway Brother — Mother

There’s something to be said for experiencing music live. I saw these guys play four times in 2015, all before autumn rolled in. Having this music cranked into your ear canal by large speakers or belted at the top of your lungs in the middle of a crowd only makes it more endearing, which is something the album succeeds at anyways. If coming-of-age is your cup of tea, Mother is your album.

This one’s an 11-track marathon, opening with the dulcet chords of “Harvest” and closing with with the 7-minute “Youniverse,” which features a dead sprint of crashing guitars. It’s young and defiant. “We’re in a boat with many holes, but I can swim and I don’t need a life vest, thanks,” quips lead singer Jacob Lee. “I can preserve my own life.” It also perfectly captures the growing pains of the adolescent to adulthood transition, grasping some kind of maturity along the way. “I will rise above my pessimism. It’s ruining my life.” Mother has something to teach us all.

Listen to: “False Halo”

---

4. Travis Scott — Rodeo

“Let’s be clear–he’s punk rock.”

Music industry kingpin Lyor Cohen’s description of the 23-year-old Travis Scott isn’t entirely accurate, but the sentiment says a lot about the attitude and aggressiveness that Scott brings to the table. Rodeo is a writing mass of raw energy, splayed over 75 minutes. Nearly every track on this album is designed to rattle your brain a little bit, and the others are buttery smooth. Travis isn’t going to blow anyone away with lyricism, so he bolsters all his work with impeccable flow and melody, weaving in and out of some of the year’s best production like a snake.

Every track on Rodeo has the unique trait of seemingly snowballing out of control by the time it ends. Raw electric guitars on “90210” give way to airy female vocals before piano riffs jump in and nudge the track over the cliff, gaining steam as Travis rides on top. At this point, I’m not really surprised at Bieber jumping on a song and throwing down a rap verse, which means the most unique twist comes on the finale, “Apple Pie,” as Travis ventures away from his mom’s home in search of success. “I don’t want your apple pie, mama. I need my own pepper, please. My own legacy, my own recipe.” With instrumentals that hit you like a sucker-punch and relatable themes that bubble beneath the surface, you gotta believe he’ll find it.

Listen to: “Apple Pie”

---

3. Sorority Noise — Joy, Departed

Much like Harmlessness at #6, Joy, Departed aims to overcome life’s struggles. While Harmlessness feels like angry determination, Joy, Departed feels like heartfelt longing with a healthy dose of irreverence. “I just hope to be the one you call when you can’t sleep,” begs “Corrigan.” The album also comes to a realization that you’ll almost never hear from emo types. What if I’m just being a little melodramatic? “Maybe I’m my own greatest fear. Maybe I’m just scared to admit that I might not be as dark as I think. Maybe I am not the person that I never wanted to be.”

Depression can be a fickle beast that chews you up and spits you out. It’s hard to get momentum moving in a positive direction, and I think this Sorority Noise captures that struggle here. Joy, Departed is has its ups and downs, but you reach the end with optimism, screamed loud and proud: “I stopped wishing I was dead. Learned to love myself before anyone else. Become more than just a burden. I know I’m more than worthy of your time.”

Listen to: “Blissth”

Read my review.

---

2. Kendrick Lamar — To Pimp A Butterfly

There are a handful of ways to rank albums, or any art form for that matter. For the purpose of this post, I’m just picking my favorites. However, if you had to rank based on importance and cultural impact, it would be basically impossible to choose anything other than this one. Rarely do you finish your first listen of an album and realize that it will be something that matters decades from now, but that’s exactly what I did.

I was in Europe when To Pimp A Butterfly hit the internet. There’s something bizarre about listening to this album while wandering the streets of Paris or zipping around France and Switzerland on bullet trains. Not only is Kendrick’s story brutal to listen to, but it’s also incredibly American, for better or worse. NPR’s Oliver Wang noted that the album aspires to be a musical version of the Great American Novel, which is the perfect way to describe it. This is 2015’s Grapes of Wrath. Looking at it from a literature context, modifying To Kill A Mockingbird for the title makes perfect sense.

It’s entertaining and captivating in the sense that it’s incredibly well-crafted, but it’s difficult to listen to by any other measure. To Pimp A Butterfly was born out of deep pain, so don’t expect many cheery moments. Kendrick waxes poetic about personal and racial struggles over 79 minutes of funk-ified hip-hop beats, bearing his scars for all to see and, hopefully, understand. At least a little bit.

To Pimp A Butterfly captures America in 2015 better than any other piece of art can. In a year where protesting was such a big deal, Kendrick provided an anthem. Plenty of terrible things happened this year, but Kendrick chimes in with defiance in the face of oppression: “But if God got us, then we gon’ be alright!”

Listen to: “King Kunta”

---

1. Sufjan Stevens — Carrie & Lowell

I’m drawn to sad albums like mosquitoes to a bug zapper. Last February, Sun Kil Moon’s Benji swept me off my feet with raw, unfiltered emotion, hardly even dampened by melody. 13 months later we got Sufjan Stevens’ Carrie & Lowell, and I fell in love again, further proving that I’m an absolute sucker for this kind of stuff. The album features a lot of Sufjan’s trademark flowery prose, although it feels more stripped back and straightforward than before. It’s almost as if the subjects he’s singing about have him so worn down that he’s left with no energy to do anything but tell it how it is.

On “Fourth of July,” we hear a deathbed conversation between Sufjan and his mother Carrie, and Sufjan plays both roles, offering parting remarks to himself from his mother’s perspective: “Did you get enough love, my little dove? Why do you cry?” On “The Only Thing,” Sufjan describes his fragile mental state following his mother’s death: “Should I tear my eyes out now? Everything I see returns to you somehow.” Eventually he finds the resolve to push forward: “The only reason why I continue at all … Blind faith, God’s grace, nothing else left to impart.”

Carrie died in 2012, so this album’s release in 2015 is proof positive that these emotional wounds are slow to scab, and that Carrie & Lowell probably plays an integral part of the healing process. It’s visceral and beautiful.

Listen to: “The Only Thing”

Read my review.

---

Honorable Mention: Modern Baseball — The Perfect Cast EP (read my review), The Wonder Years — No Closer To Heaven, Destroyer — Poison Season, Miguel — Wildheart, Drake & Future — What a Time to Be Alive

What Happened to Snacs?

I wrote about Jadakiss, SimCity, and a search for answers

As you have hopefully noticed by this point, the site looks a little different. I finally got fed up with Tumblr and its multitude of limitations and moved everything to WordPress like an adult. It’s not quite perfect, but it works for now. (UPDATE: I’m on Medium now.) I’ll have to iron out the kinks as I go along. In the process of migrating everything over here, I embarked on the envious task of reformatting all my old Tumblr posts so they looked okay over here. In doing so, I came across some early stuff I had forgotten about.

One of my first posts on From Loveland was about Snacs, aka Josh Abramovici. I had recently been made aware of the NY producer by way of his single, “Art Shadow” which had been circulating on the internet a little bit prior to the release of his Weird Ontology project. It’s smooth from front to back, and contains the world’s most beautifully bizarre Jadakiss sample. Check out the old post if you want more thoughts, but the whole thing is really great.

In retooling it for From Loveland 2.0, I thought Huh, I haven’t heard from this guy in a while. I wonder if he’s put out any new music. I search for his Twitter, but it would appear it’s been deleted. A quick glace at his Bandcamp page returns a resounding no. The most recent project available is Weird Ontology. Good, but not new. I head over to Soundcloud, and I’m onto something. Posted three months ago are a slew of tracks with bizarre artwork, all tagged #backlog. Naturally, it looks like this is all old material that has been thrown online rather than collect dust on a hard drive. I’m starting to think Snacs dumped his reserves and called it quits. Following these eight tracks is a set called Backlog, with a description confirming my assumption:

FLUSH EM OUT
OLD TRACKS

Underneath it is something else, however:

STILL OUT HERE THOUGH
@vose106

Ta daaaa! It would seem Mr. Abramovici is still kicking around some new tunes after all. The Vose 106 profile contains a few three-month-old tracks, but a quick Google search reveals a Bandcamp page with a full album. Released August 10 under a Nashville label called Kudzu Productions, CAN’T FIND ME by Vose 106 is the latest from the artist formerly known as Snacs.

---

“CAN’T FIND ME” by Vose 106

It doesn’t sound quite the same as earlier work like Weird Ontology or Swim Tape, but it’s still unmistakably Snac-y. There’s the same trance-like loopiness that listeners will recognize. It’s still very atmospheric, but far less murky and ethereal. On earlier projects, Abramovici always seemed to have a knack for coming up with the perfect song titles, and that trend continues. “Envoy Bop” sounds like something that would play in some kind of futuristic dystopian nightclub. It’s spacey and hypnotic, like something that would make sense in The Matrix.

“SMILIN’,” which seems to be pitched as the single, is not nearly as happy-go-lucky as the title would suggest, featuring a repetition that bores into your head. There’s almost a menace to it. It has the same kind of stark, sparse bounce that made Yeezus so polarizing, just on a much more subtle level.

The thing finds more of an sunnier tone on the finale. “Complexion” introduces more lighthearted bongos in place of the lurching percussion in earlier parts of the project. Despite being much more upbeat, it still has an ominous tone to it. Did you ever play SimCity 3000? That game is awesome, but the music eventually gave me the creeps. It had this unsettling, existential Koyaanisqatsi vibe that parts of CAN’T FIND ME is able to pinpoint. It sounds like elevator music with a dark secret.

---

It took me some getting used to, and it’s definitely not quite as no-brainier lovable as Weird Ontology was, but I’m still glad to see Snacs is putting out music. As a bonus, my curiousity/stalking unearthed some random Snacs throwback gems like this mix for Utopie Tangible, this interview/mix for The Soul Electronic, and this charming collaboration project with rapper Young Windex called Bomb Ass Soup. Snacs and a rapper sounds as good as you’d imagine.

I guess this was a long-winded way to say that Snacs is kinda still making music, only he’s not Snacs. No word on whether or not Snacs will return. Until then, dive into the weird world of Vose 106.

The Rebirth of Bieber

Back in September, I wrote about Justin Bieber’s renaissance. Since 2013, I’ve felt like there’s been a shift occurring in his career. It was something that most people were totally oblivious to because of his early music and inescapable persona, but I’ve always separated the kid from the music, so I latched on to him as a fan of his talent and potential. I’m not necessarily unique in this. Plenty of listeners like me have touted him as a capable musician, artist, and human. If you’ve followed his career, it’s not hard to see that there was a lot going on beneath the surface. He’s stayed afloat on the backs of his undying legion of fans, but there’s a reason he’s maintained a sizable portion of followers outside of the teenage girl demographic. That quiet portion of his fan base has steadily grown over the past few years, all the while predicting that a day would come where Bieber would attempt the tricky artistic leap between adolescence and adulthood, finally realizing his true potential as a musician.

For better or worse, successful or not, that day has come.

Purpose is here, giving us our first real, carefully crafted look at Adult Justin. No more swoopy hair. No more high-pitched singing voice. No more singles with Usher, Ludacris, or Nicki Minaj. No more poppy dance instrumentals. This is it. Fans like me have been waiting years for this.

The album opens with “Mark My Words,” which kicks things off softly, taking a more pensive tone. The muted, slow-burn instantly reminded me of the opener that a fellow Toronto native chose for an album in 2011. It must be a big temptation with highly-anticipated albums to open the show with fireworks, but songs like this almost always catch my attention more. Just like Drake, Bieber wasted no time after the opener to throw things into gear.

JB kicks back atop a bucking Skrillex instrumental for “I’ll Show You.” Although the beat hits a fairly chaotic stride for the hook, Bieber’s vocals never progress past a relaxed tone, making this one feel like an epic movie explosion in slow motion. Lyrically, he promises to prove doubters wrong in the face of his struggles with fame. He reminds listeners that he’s a human being after all, which is something that often seems lost on celebrities, especially those of Bieber’s ilk. The song plays a role in the scope of the album, and the production and melodies salvage it all, but I can’t help but feel like this whole thing is a bit trite. Yes Justin, we know “Sometimes it’s hard to do the right thing/ When the pressure’s coming down like lightning.”

The unassailable “What Do You Mean?” is next, quickly righting the ship and making me wonder again how J Biebs on tropical house music seems like the most obvious choice on this whole album, and possibly my favorite artistic decision of his career. He goes back to the well with “Sorry,” which is the ultimate collision of old and new Bieber. This is a 2015 version of “Baby,” riding on an Latin-influenced house beat, bolstered by Bieber’s finely tuned falsetto. His bread and butter has always been upbeat, danceable, carefree pop music, and this is the most well-executed version of that we’ve ever seen from him.

It’s ironic that after all the talk of Bieber finding his niche on house and EDM production that the album’s lasting moment comes on one of its most humble, stripped down tracks. Batten the hatches, because “Love Yourself” seems poised to annihilate Top 40 radio. This is criminally catchy, and employs the same kind of lyrical dissonance that made “What’s Up Fatlip?” and Foster The People’s “Pumped Up Kicks” interesting. Beneath the upbeat, cute pop ditty exterior is a tale of lost love that Bieber has apparently gotten over, channeling a beautiful irreverence that works so well in any breakup song. This one also contains one of the best underhanded burns you’ll hear in 2015: “My mama don’t like you, and she likes everyone.”

Sheesh, Justin.

Before easing to a stop, the song makes sure to slide into a gentle trumpet riff, channeling the chart-topper Bieber shared the Song of the Summer 2015 crown with.

The tag team of pop music titans seems to have created one of those “impossible to fail” scenarios. Captained by Justin Bieber. Co-written by Ed Sheeran. Produced by pop mega-producer Benny Blanco. Again, this will be all over your radio before you know it.

If you’re somehow bored at this point, we switch gears again for “Company,” which sees Bieber play around on an EDM beat with subtle trap influences like snare rolls. Despite not consisting of any actual lyrics, the back half of the chorus is one of my favorite parts of the album, riding a throbbing bass that makes it impossible not to move around a little bit. At least a toe tap or a head nod. I don’t know if nightclubs are open to playing Justin Bieber, but this seems like a perfect playlist addition.

It’s at this point that I feel like the album makes its first true misstep. There is nothing compelling about “No Pressure.” The whole vibe is cookie-cutter R&B, and the guest appearance from World’s Most Mediocre Rapper Big Sean doesn’t help things at all:

I know you don’t wanna talk, right
We’ve been on and off like the cross lights
You heard I’m playin’ with them h — s like I golf, right?
When I touch you, I get frostbite
Girl you’re so cold, so cold, so cold
How we so young but livin’ so old?

Those are actual lyrics from a world-renowned hip-hop artist. Ugh.

“No Sense” feels more like what Bieber and Sean should’ve aimed for. This one is produced by Travis Scott, and the trap influences here are much less subtle. The vocal performance is still too R&B for my tastes, but at least the beat has some teeth to it. Despite not being known for lyrical talent by any means, Scott still manages to outshine Sean here. Neither are very impressive. I’ve always been a fan of Bieber teaming up with hip-hop artists, but both of these were letdowns.

I’m sure most people have experienced a moment where they wonder if they really love a person, or just the idea of them. Is it love or lust? It’s safe to say that something like this would not have been fair territory for Bieber just an album or two ago, but he doesn’t hesitate to dive into the idea on “The Feeling.” The entire concept almost feels anti-Bieber, at least the version of him that preceded this album. It’s not the kind of happy-go-lucky thing that teenage fans slurp up.

If you’re into production surprises, your time has come. This is the most interesting backing Bieber has ever enjoyed, powered by skittering, rickety percussion and a pounding bass line. Adding to the appeal is the gloriously airy vocal assist from Halsey. I’ll be honest: I have no idea who this girl is. But she’s doing all kinds of awesome things here. Props.

The album continues with its maturity — albeit in a more introspective tone — on “Life Is Worth Living.” JB has never been known for his lyrical prowess, but this track actually leans on songwriting and it works. It’s hard to have a ballad without good writing, and Bieber & Co. pulled it out.

After a short detour into “Where Are U Now,” the album returns with its most baffling choice. I don’t have a single idea what “Children” is supposed to be. Based around some ridiculous The children are the future concept, the song inexplicably lurches into some chaotic fever dream of a beat by Skrillex. I guess it takes something like this to remind you why Bieber and Skrillex have never been known for their artistic sensibilities. Given all they did on this album together, I’m willing to just chalk this up as a loss and move on.

In his cover story with Complex, Bieber turned heads by speaking frankly about his faith:

“We could take out all of our insecurities, we could take away all of the hurt, all the pain, all the fear, all the trauma. That doesn’t need to be there. So all this healing that you’re trying to do, it’s unnecessary. We have the greatest healer of all and his name is Jesus Christ.”

The album comes to a close with its title track, which is a musical manifestation of this idea. I’m sure Justin’s life, especially the most recent chapter, has felt like a marathon. My own life is tiring enough, and I didn’t grow up in the spotlight, living under a microscope. It must be exhausting. The finale reveals the meaning behind the album’s title, as Justin thanks God for putting him on earth for a reason, and for giving his life purpose.

For newer fans, I’m sure Purpose seems unwieldy. When your only experience with an artist is tabloid stories and teenybopper music, something with this kind of ambition is going to catch you off guard. I saw it coming, and some of the nuances still surprised me.

It’s certainly not perfect, and there’s a lot lost in throwaway Big Sean verses and muddled concepts near the end of the album, but Purpose does its job. It’s a proof of concept. JB can make mature music. I’ve been waiting for this album since I first heard “One Time” in 2010. For Justin, this apparently feels like the end of a journey. To me, it sounds like the beginning. Justin Bieber has arrived.

---

Originally published at fromloveland.com on November 17, 2015.

The Curious Case of Lana Del Rey

Lana Del Rey swept me off my feet. I still remember watching the “Born To Die” video for the first time and being absolutely blown away by the impeccable cinematography, the baroque production, and the way Lana’s voice seemed to fill in all the gaps. I was in love. I had a frame from the video as my desktop background for a while. Just a few days later, Kanye was tweeting his own favorite shots, and I knew this new girl was on to something.

She had the aesthetic, she had the lyrics, she had the production, and she had the best videos. She played Marilyn Monroe to ASAP Rocky’s JFK. It was random and perfect. She was working this angle between Kennedy-era nostalgia and Internet-era style.

Born to Die came out, and I liked it from front to back. 2012 was a pretty stacked year for music. If you release an album in January and — before the year is up — I have albums from Kendrick Lamar, Frank Ocean, Tame Impala, etc. it’s going to be hard to stay at the forefront of the year-end discussion. But she did. Born to Die was one of my favorite albums of 2012.

She followed up with the Paradise Edition of the album, which included a handful of songs I really enjoyed. For a bunch of bonus tracks, they were really impressive. Lana Del Rey had hit machine written all over her. In my eyes, she could do no wrong.

Then something did go wrong.

“West Coast” kicked off publicity for her next album, Ultraviolence. It wasn’t too bad, but it had me really worried. Gone was the baroque pop and soaring vocals, instead replaced by a weak beach vibe that didn’t seem to suit her at all. I wrote about my worry that the new single was a sign of a change in direction and mentality. Unfortunately, I was right. Ultraviolence hit, and it was a bit of a misfire.

Rather than take what worked from the first album, go back to the drawing board, and try some new things, it seemed like Lana and her team spun some kind of wheel and landed on “beach vibez” before heaping extra helpings of the best parts of Born To Die into some precast mold. “Less is more” is an expression. “More is more” is not an expression. Someone should’ve told Lana Del Rey this, because Ultraviolence brimmed with excess and overindulgence.

The project had a few high points, to be sure, but most of my favorites paled in comparison to the successes she had earlier in her career. I was able to sum up my thoughts on the album in fewer than 400 words.

Skip ahead to 2015, and she’s back with Honeymoon. I intentionally avoided singles, aiming to swallow the album whole once it came out. I hoped Ultraviolence was a fluke misstep. I noticed critics seemed to be enjoying the album, almost universally, so I was excited to dive in.

Nope. The magic is gone. I needed just 365 words for Ultraviolence. I could’ve done Honeymoon in 140 characters. Evidently it’s just me, because the project managed to earn itself a 78 on Metacritic. (Not that Metacritic is some kind of end-all-be-all, but clearly most people liked the album.) One review seemed to nail my feelings.

Q Magazine wrote:

“At 65-plus minutes’ duration, Honeymoon’s submarine/somnambulant vibe does rather overstay its welcome.”

That’s exactly what it is. I feel like the album drove me into a coma and I came out the other end 12 days later with the desire to listen to something, anything with some life in it. It was an hour of musical quicksand that swallowed me whole. I don’t know what happened to the Lana Del Rey that made Born to Die, but The Ghost of Lana Del Rey isn’t striking the same chords with me.

I haven’t completely written her off, to be honest. I’ve liked a few songs from each project since Born To Die, so I have hope that she’ll come back around. She has the talent, and this isn’t the worst downward spiraling relationship I’ve had with the music of a favorite artist.

I have faith. Things can change. I just want old Lana back.

Modern Baseball Exhales

I wrote about A Goofy Movie, life at 23, and Modern Baseball’s new EP

Modern Baseball recently cancelled a string of Austrialian tour dates. “It’s time to put everything else aside to focus on making steps towards positive mental health,” lead singer Brendan Lukens wrote on Facebook. Speaking from experience, it’s never easy to admit you need help, especially with something like mental health. I’m willing to bet it’s even more difficult if you’re the face of a band on the rise, doing what you love, and touring the world. For that reason, Brendan’s honesty and his decision to take a step back is admirable.

“I was relying on alcohol and weed to get through any day of the week,” he told Noisey. “The only time I was getting out was when we were touring, which was a lot, but everyone else could notice a change because if we weren’t on the road or practicing, no one was going to see me. It was kind of like that for two years.”

Like any proper musician, Lukens channeled everything into music, compiling six songs into Modern Baseball’s The Perfect Cast EP and releasing it for free. It’s still very recognizable as a Modern Baseball project, but there seems to be a lot more candidness here. It’s a well worn narrative with bands of this age, but the maturity is coming.

Lukens criticizes himself, his actions, and his way of thinking. We hear his inner dialogue on the opening track, “The Waterboy Returns”:

“Hey you, that’s no way out
You can’t find help in a bottle or a cut”

He pushes for maturity from himself, acknowledging there’s more to write about than sad songs about jilted love:

“That’s so typical, Bren 
all you sing about is girls
Take a stand, man, you can find a voice 
that’s not haunted by old flings”

These guys seem world-weary but relieved. Lyrics acknowledge simply being tired on multiple songs, but I get the sense that it’s the kind of tired you get when you finish a marathon or finally hit the pillow after a long day. It’s a big, deep exhale.

“But everything is changing even faster than it was back then
You hold me
It feels like I am finally closing my eyes after a year and a half long day
And I am tired as hell”

Being a 23-year-old myself, I can sympathize with a lot of what Modern Baseball sings about. The transition from youth to adulthood and college to the real world feels like life is whipping past you at warp speed, and everything around you is constantly slipping through your fingers. I can picture the football player who just dropped an easy pass, staring at his palms wondering how he missed it. Life lately has me feeling like that pretty frequently, and so does this EP. Whether it’s the exhausting journey, change, self-improvement, or growing pains in relationships, this all feels extremely… 23.

The band’s next album, titled Holy Ghost, seems on track for release in the next few months or so. By that point, the guys of Modern Baseball (along with myself) will have graduated college and will be expected to contribute to the real world.

It’s an exhilarating and terrifying phase of life.

Complete with a title that’s a flawless Goofy Movie reference, The Perfect Cast is a pretty perfect EP in that it will hold fans over for a few months and set the table for what’s to come. This feels like the preamble for what should be an big album.

Sorority Noise — Joy, Departed

Emo is a funny word. For one, it seems like very few bands want the label associated with them. There isn’t really anything inherently bad about the subgenre, but it’s definitely something that bands seem to shy away from. Lead singers get funny when the e-word is brought up.

Maybe it’s because emo typically means sad, sappy music. And sad, sappy music often means immature music. And few bands are willing to embrace the “depressed high-schooler” vibe that emo carries with it so often. People want to be taken seriously, and nobody is going to wax poetic in Rolling Stone about some high school kid wallowing in his pain.

For all intents and purposes, Sorority Noise is an emo band. “I have no problem with people calling us that, because in the strictest of senses, we are an emotionally driven band,” says lead singer Cameron Boucher. He’s right. But if you’re the type to buy into stereotypes, you’re not giving Sorority Noise the credit they deserve, because Joy, Departed is not about a bunch of sad teenagers.

Your stereotypical emo album wallows, but Joy, Departed aspires.

That isn’t to say it’s a happy record. There’s still a strong emo stain here, and the album has its fair share of pain and heartache. But Sorority Noise separates themselves by having a determined outlook in spite of a troubled past or present.

“Blissth” opens the album softly:

“Let me be the drug
That you use to fall in love
The heroin that keeps you warm enough
Let me sink to your skin
Like water in a wound
Stitch me up when you are done”

The song eventually explodes into an empowering finale. It reminds me a lot of Noah And The Whale’s “Blue Skies” in the way that it’s bittersweet and sorrowful while still being hopeful and sending chills down your spine with uplifting riffs.

“Corrigan” is up next and continues the theme:

“I will never be the one you need
I only hope to be the solid ground beneath your feet
I will never be the turning of your leaves
I just hope to be the one you call when you can’t sleep”

The lead single, “Art School Wannabe”, shares the sentiment yet again. I don’t know if anti-emo is a genre, but this would be it. What if, maybe, things aren’t so bad after all?

“Maybe I’m my own greatest fear
maybe I’m just scared to admit that
I might not be as dark as I think
maybe I am not the person
that I never wanted to be”

I love how feisty this whole album is. Almost as if it’s saying Things aren’t great right now, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let them stay that way. It just seems like an impressive and healthy way to frame depression and anger. I’ll admit to being much less positive and determined when ailed with the two.

Which brings us to the song that got me into Sorority Noise. “Using” is painful. It’s a roller coaster ride through the everyday battle that is depression. The constant cycle of losing and winning, failing and succeeding, falling and rising.

It charts defeat before proclaiming victory, guns blazing:

“I stopped wishing I was dead
Learned to love myself before anyone else
Become more than just a burden
I know I’m more than worthy of your time”

This is a product of Boucher, who — despite being diagnosed with manic depression — is incredibly admirable in his outlook on life. He spoke to Alt Press:

“The song “Using” is the first song I’ve ever written that I felt took a positive focus on my life. It allowed me to look back into my life and realize every issue and every struggle I’ve faced and express my realization that no matter how unbelievably terrible things are and how low you feel as a person, there is no greater idea than accepting yourself for what you are and doing your best to make a positive impact on the world you live in.”

Being sad is normal, but defeating sadness is really cool. And that’s what makes Joy, Departed different.

The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die — Harmlessness

Despite being at the forefront of the “emo revival” over the past five or six years, I’ve never been able to get into this band. Wonderfully cumbersome name aside, The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die (or TWIABP, for short) has never clicked for me. Either way, that name is an exclamation mark or two shy of being a Sufjan Stevens song title, so they’ve always done enough to catch my attention and at least warrant a cursory listen or two.

Harmlessness had me from the start. Both pre-album singles were something that instantly drew me in and had me coming back after my cursory listen. This feels much more accessible and user-friendly than their previous releases, but still holds enough nuance and exploration to keep things exciting. That said, it really does feel like a departure, at least from my outsider’s perspective as a new fan. For that reason, I wouldn’t be surprised if TWIABP alienates some older fans with this album. I’ve been that fan, so I understand that.

The band is made up of nine members, which is obviously a big group. It pays off though, because much of this album has a scope to it that’s enamoring. Bands like Explosions In The Sky are famous for their overall grandeur and anthemic sound, and parts of Harmlessness give me the same vibe.

The lead single, “January 10th, 2014″ feels epic. Epic the adjective, and epic the noun. If you count the preceding interlude that functions basically as the intro to the song, you’re looking at a nearly 7-minute power ballad. Rousing instrumentation and rising and falling guitars serve as the backdrop for the story of Diana, The Hunter of Bus Drivers, a woman who murdered two bus drivers in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico to avenge for a string of un-prosecuted sexual assaults. In the song, Diana vows to “make Evil afraid of Evil’s shadow” over crashing guitars. If it doesn’t get you amped up, you are dead inside.

Diana’s story was made popular by the radio show This American Life, which ran a segment on her back in 2013. As a huge fan of TAL and host Ira Glass, I can say that listening to that show is my preferred way of finding out about anything. It’s awesome that TWIABP did the same thing.

The whole album feels like one big “finally fighting back” story, played out in multiple ways. One of my favorite tracks is the second single, “I Can Be Afraid of Anything”. It’s a tale of beating depression, beginning with the struggle: heavy buckets, empty parking lots, anhedonia, and being left in the dust, before showing a triumphant glimmer of hope.

I really did dig my own hole, and I’m climbing out.
I really did dig my own hole, but I can see the top.
I’m climbing out.

It’s not all soaring and yelling though. The album finds time for pondering on the opener, “You Can’t Live There Forever”. After warm, restrained whispers about tiny worlds and distant skies, the song blossoms into something more in line with the rest of the album.

Where is the action?
Where are the streets that take you to bed?
What is your name and what do you do here?
We have the same thoughts clouding our heads.

It’s always fun when you find something and have the thought, “This is really good!” It’s especially exciting when it’s from a band you’ve never felt that way about before. Every year I make a stupid list of my favorite albums from that year, and every year there’s usually one or two that come completely out of left field. Harmlessness is one of those for 2015. This album is great. It makes me feel strong, and it makes me think happy thoughts. Butterflies, waterfalls, sunsets, etc. The world really is a beautiful place, huh?

— Spencer Tuckerman

---

Originally published at fromloveland.com, October 20, 2015.

Spencer Radcliffe Has Me Looking In

Spencer Radcliffe shares my name and my home state, and is signed to the lovely Run For Cover Records. I was basically forced to listen to his music. I should’ve made up a cooler story, but that’s the truth. Fortunately, I stumbled into something worth stumbling into.

Have you noticed that music sounds better when you’re traveling? Because that’s an undebatable fact. Spencer Radcliffe’s debut album Looking In came into the world on a travel day, so it was my soundtrack. I was traveling from Cincinnati to Minneapolis alone, and therefore free to fall into the antisocial space I occupy so well. Looking In occupies it pretty well, too.

It’s rough around the edges. This album feels like an old book, the kind you want to keep sniffing because it smells musty and nostalgic.

I’m bad with genres, so I usually wrap my head around new music by triangulating it using other artists. Looking In has the eroding parade of sound I love about Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. It’s like Jandek in its plodding hollowness, although it feels like you’re listening to a friend, rather than a mysterious man who may have murdered people. It’s also experimental, yet somehow cozy like Zammuto. I’m not really sure what I expected from Spencer Radcliffe, but it wasn’t this.

The moment Looking In went from something I’d play in the car to something I’d remember as a favorite of 2015 was track number three. “Folded” enters with a crackle and a shudder. Radcliffe sighs, “You cannot expect the world to unfold right in front of you / Certain things were made for a later time and a better point of view / It’s true.” He then gives way to horns, and suddenly I’m in love.

We’re operating on the same wavelength, because I can tell this album was born from isolation, anxiety, and spending an unhealthy amount of time hunched over a computer, tinkering. Between the intricacies of this album and the loneliness of it, it comes off sounding like some weirdo loner’s magnum opus. There’s a lot going on here, sonically.

I’m a big fan of fine tuning your work beyond what’s reasonable. I used to torture myself when I made music (once upon a time), and I still have great respect for my fellow tinkerers. This album samples a barking dog, and has little bits of sound crammed into every little nook and cranny, so it’s two thumbs up for me.

Despite the idiosyncrasies of it all, Radcliffe still finds a place for something catchy. “Mia” sounds like a lost Pavement song, reminding me that he’s signed to Run For Cover, and serving as a good entry point for anyone slow to warm up to the rest of the album.

With the endless fine tuning comes little restraint. Radcliffe indulges himself on just about every musical whim, seemingly determined to explore every corner of his psyche. It makes for a very personal experience. You get the sense that if you gave him another 44 minutes he’d eventually end up revealing his innermost secrets.

It’s as if Radcliffe popped the top on his brain, allowing everyone to take a peek inside at the crowded expanse. The album’s title obviously refers to Radcliffe’s own introspection, but the rest of us are looking in, too. As he examines himself, we’re all peeking over his shoulder, saying, “Yep, this is pretty nuts.”

He tells FADER why he did it: “I guess I made this album for the same reason I find myself making them again and again — to put something into the outside world that only existed within before, then sit back and admire the mess in front of me.”

I like his mess.

Donnie Trumpet’s Ambitious “Surf” Is Almost What I Hoped For

Let me start by saying that Donnie Trumpet & The Social Experiment’s Surf is a pretty great album. The production is lush and warm, and the number of hands on this album is absolutely unreal. Free albums aren’t supposed to feature this much hard work, dedication, and coordination. It’s remarkable, especially for a bunch of scrappy kids from Chicago. These musicians are all my age, and they’re making huge, positive moves. I wish more artists worked with this kind of sincerity and conviction.

I suppose the sentiment stated above probably contributed to my slight disappointment with this album.

Just prior to Thanksgiving 2014, the first single from Surf appeared in the form of “Sunday Candy”. The ode to grandma anthem blew me away with its instrumentation, melody, and heartfelt lyrics. How many artists are better at covering relatable, humble topics than Chance The Rapper? Who knew a jazzy hip-hop song about Chance’s grandma would end up being the feel-good song of 2014? Who knew the subsequent music video would be one of my favorite pieces of art this year? Seriously, watch that video and try not to fall in love with these kids. There’s a nauseating level of talent and creatively being lobbed around.

So when the outfit returned with a full-length effort last Thursday that felt like more of a ground rule double than a home run, it’s hard not to leave with a twinge of disappointment.

A Reddit user succinctly described it as feeling like a 52-minute interlude, which seems apt. For as focused and soaring as “Sunday Candy” is, its album companions feel loose and meandering. Perhaps it’s the free-flowing nature of jazz rubbing off, but I was hoping for more bonafide hits and fewer cuts that feel this fleeting.

It’s like butter. Delicious and smooth as hell, but not something you’d want to make a meal out of. I think I just got served a plate of butter.

Okay, now that I’ve successfully hated on an album I honestly enjoy, I should note that there are a handful of successes here. The aforementioned “Sunday Candy” is still phenomenal. “Nothing Came To Me” feels bizarre and jazzy enough to be a 21st century Bitches Brew piece. The melody it stumbles into by the end makes the wandering worth it.

“Familiar” is the summer smash I was hoping for. Between a quintessential Chance The Rapper contribution and verses from Migos’ Quavo and Chicago’s own King Louie, this is going to be quickly inserted into all of my summer playlists.

“Go” is wonderfully random. It’s got a beat that’s all over the place and the absolutely unexpected appearances of Francis Starlight and Chicago native Mike Golden. This counts as the “didn’t see that one coming” moment we were promised in the buildup to this release.

Is this something I’ll listen to all summer? Yeah, probably. Is it something I’ll be coming back to for years to come? Probably not. Was it fair to place that kind of expectation on this album? Probably not.

There’s an incredible amount of ambition in these 52 minutes. To be honest, any shortcomings are smoothed over by the fact that Donnie Trumpet and gang are bursting at the seams with potential. We’re not all the way there yet, but it’s gonna happen.

Take Surf for what it’s worth, because these kids are positioned for a home run.

Lana Del Rey — Florida Kilos

I needed a couple weeks to chew on Lana Del Rey’s latest album, Ultraviolence. Back in April, I posted about how I was a little underwhelmed by “West Coast”, and expressed my concerns and optimism for the new direction she seemed to be headed. After hearing the album, I guess I can say it was both exactly what I hoped for and exactly what I was afraid of.

The album ran amok in all the ways I expected. The chorus on “Sad Girl” features Lana literally repeating “I’m a sad girl” over and over again. “Pretty When You Cry” is exactly what that title sounds like. There’s an incredible amount of melodramatic sappiness on the album.

Additionally, the intro track is over six and half minutes of stuck-in-the-mud wailing. In fact, overkill is a downfall of this album. I feel like most of my least favorite songs suffered from being entirely too long. The lows on Ultraviolence are drenched in overindulgence.

All is not lost. The album hit a few high points, and I felt they were fantastic. “Money Power Glory” felt very familiar to fans of 2012’s Born To Die. The radio mix of “West Coast” is fantastic, and fixes a lot of issues I had with the original. Bonus track “Black Beauty” seemed to succeed in much of what the album was aiming for, finding a perfect balance of melancholy while maintaining engaging production and lyrics.

My favorite is another bonus track, “Florida Kilos”. When I wrote about my expectations for this album in April, I said that I felt the surf rock aesthetic could work. This song is what I was hoping for.

Featuring perfect guitars and a flawlessly nostalgic beach vibe, “Florida Kilos” is everything this album could’ve been. It’s perfectly summer, and perfectly Florida. If Miami Vice were set in the 60’s, this would be the theme song. Given the content, it doesn’t come as a total shock that Spring Breakers director Harmony Korine is a co-writer. This one falls in his wheelhouse.

And give Dan Auerbach his props for the production side. I questioned his ability to produce for Lana, but he hit this one out of the park.

Snacs — Weird Ontology

The timing on this thing was actually impeccable. I had planned to write my next post on Snacs, and then he randomly dropped this album/EP today. This post has been ordained by the gods of internet music.

Snacs is Josh Abramovici, a producer from New York City. He currently has a handful of brief (but captivating) projects up on his Bandcamp page, although I came to find out about him through his incredible single, “Art Shadow”. If you’re a fan of instrumental tracks, Snacs is your guy. As I mentioned in my Astronomyy post, the internet and Soundcloud has made these types of artists commonplace, yet the best stuff still sticks out. Snacs is another example of a diamond in the rough artist, and his latest effort proves that.

Weird Ontology opens with “Retreat”, a track that sounds exactly like the title. Without being too cliche, it quickly sets the stage for the rest of the project. This one gives me vibes of Toro Y Moi or even early Washed Out.

As of this writing, “Art Shadow” is still my favorite song on the project, and also easily one of my favorite instrumentals so far in 2014. It’s immersive and cozy, but the percussion and sampling still gives it an expansive and sprawling feel. There’s something in there that sounds like somebody is playing racquetball, and it’s fantastic.

In case you’re too comfortable at this point, “Better Cobra” features a Jadakiss sample. Because, of course, right? If you put the Jadakiss track in a blender with a wind chime and a handful of nickels, this is the song that comes out the other end. It’s short, but wonderfully jarring.

The project heads towards the home stretch with “Love Me Now”, which is basically 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea meets jazz sax. If I ever become a billionaire and buy a submarine-yacht, this is the song that’s gonna play in the elevator.

It all culminates with “Luxury Ride”, which almost sounds like it fell off the Sim City 3000 soundtrack (which is incredible, by the way). The track hits a wonderfully electronic, trance-y stride before going fully industrial and then abruptly ending.

Weird Ontology is the perfect name for this thing, as it manages to be relaxing, yet disorienting. Familiar, yet unpredictable. There have been a handful of albums that have instantly struck a chord with me this year, and this is certainly one I can add to that list. I can’t wait to dig deeper into this.