As many of the Critics approached their sixth decade on this planet, the energy for this sort of activity began to ebb. Careers, families, illness, and/or lack of desire to engage with the new Deerhunter album would get in the way, and many of us would find ourselves in November having listened to hardly any new music that year. Fewer and fewer of us bothered to fill out a ballot, and finally Tris McCall, organizer of the Poll from its inception, stopped compiling it. Fortunately, McCall – musician, music critic, one of my former bandmates, and honest-to-God genius – carried on publishing his own ballot on his website, as well as his Listening Schedule: a list of a hundred or so albums released during the past year to be (re)listened to, two per day, from early December until the end of January.
I’m not sure specifically what inspired me to take up the challenge of following along with the Listening Schedule this year. The fact that I would even consider this a “challenge” says something about my own state of mind. Too many of my waking hours are filled with social media and other nonsense, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t make time to engage with some actual art, or at least what the kids are up to these days. In any case, I’m glad I did. Despite the untimely demise of the man who was the #1 influence on my humble musical life, 2019 was a fantastic year in music.
Top Ten Albums of 2019
For the curious / bored / insomniac among you, here are my notes on the rest of the Listening Schedule. Caveat: I listened to most of the albums of this list a total of one time, so I may be way off the mark on some of them. (* = recommended)
2 Chainz — Rap or Go to The League. I don’t care how sympathetic a character you are (and 2 Chainz is an extremely sympathetic character), no one but no one wants to hear about your high school sports glory days. Still, as someone who has logged many thousands of hours shooting free throws, I do appreciate his allusion to the “BEEF” (Balance, Elbow, Eyes, Follow-through) jump shot technique. Also wins the award for best income tax optimization strategy on record in 2019.
American Football — American Football (LP3). Don’t let the band / album name fool you: these guys are harmless. A fondness for guitar arpeggios and odd time signatures. I feel like there could be a prog act in here somewhere waiting to be unleashed, but they’re too old for that. Also too much first-person singular in the lyrics.
Anemone — Beat My Distance. Reverb all around, and sustained organ running through every song like someone highlighting every word on every page of a book. The front woman sings about men she likes, and men she doesn’t (perhaps it’s the same man). The bass player keeps himself very busy.
Belle & Sebastian — Days of The Bagnold Summer. Glaswegian chamber-poppers settle into tweedy middle age, with gentle acoustic ballads, several instrumentals which sound like the soundtrack to a movie about Belle & Sebastian, and a note-for-note cover of a song off their first album. I think I liked Stuart Murdoch better when he was primarily confused and horny, but this will do.
Better Oblivion Community Center — Better Oblivion Community Center. Acoustic-y and indie-y act with male and female vocalists who often sing in unison but not in harmony just in different octaves. This could be kind of cute and joyful like Mates of State, but I found it distracting, like you can’t figure out which one of them to listen to. Some good lyrics though.
Big Thief — U.F.O.F./Two Hands. If Joanna Newsom and Jesse Sykes had a love child who put out two albums a year, this is what it would sound like.
Blood Orange — Angel’s Pulse. I was going to say that this sounds like a collaboration between The Weeknd and the guys from Air, but didn’t those guys already collaborate on something? Or maybe it was Daft Punk. This probably deserves more than one listen.
Danny Brown — uknowhatimsayin¿ He seems to have gotten things back onto the rails somewhat, which I’m happy about for his sake. However, I’m not sure if I find this version of Danny Brown as interesting as the one who spent his afternoons snorting Adderall off the kitchen counter. This probably says something not so nice about my relationship to the artist.
* Camila Cabello — Romance. The most likable of the current crop of top 40 stars. Multi-octave vocal gymnastics, sly production, and the requisite teenage friskiness.
Calliope Musicals — Color/Sweat. I’m not quite sure what this band is up to. Singer pogo-s around like Dale Bozzio. Songs that range from disco anthems to Britpop-sounding stuff to a final track that worships a paper cup of whiskey. Your guess is as good as mine.
Chance the Rapper — The Big Day. Clever rhymes and guest appearances from everyone from Nikki Minaj to Death Cab for Cutie to Randy Newman. Still, I can’t shake the impression that I’m listening to this generation’s Will Smith.
* Charly Bliss — Young Enough. They’ve gone full Metric on this one, with blaring synths outgunning the Fender Jaguars. Who can blame them, as the guys over at Netflix are probably falling all over themselves to get Charly Bliss to do the soundtrack for one of their new coming-of-age dramedies. This didn’t quite reach the heights of Guppy, but I think they’ll will be with us for a little while, which is a good thing.
Frances Cone — Late Riser. Whenever I used to put on music that my father didn’t know, he would inevitably say, “Sounds just like Fleetwood Mac.” Here’s one case where he would have been right, as the lead singer does a credible vodka-breathy Stevie Nicks impression, and a couple of these songs wouldn’t sound out of place on Tusk. Errs on the moody side.
* Rodney Crowell — Texas. If you’ve been tempted to read that Hillbilly Elegy book, listen to this instead. Telecaster twang, grizzled guest stars, and red state America in 2019.
* Denzel Curry — Zuu. Euphoric, shameless hip-hop, due east of Manny Fresh, at roughly the same latitude.
* Stella Donnelly — Beware of The Dogs. Cute Australian sings about dark stuff over bright chords.
* Drake — Care Package. The Manchester City of rap music, delivering quality each time out, if not always at the top of the table. Rich and famous people can get awfully tedious though. This album needed to be about 1/3 shorter.
The Early November — Lilac. NJ emo darlings ditch some of their guitar angst for keyboards and mellower flows. I probably need to listen to this a few more times.
Rose Elinor Dougall — A New Illusion. Piano-driven straight-ahead pop/rock, heavy on the sustain pedal, and with a punchier rhythm section that one might expect at first. The singer evidently used to be in a band called the Pipettes.
* Billie Eilish — When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? I loved the lead single from the first time I heard it on the radio. The rest of the album doesn’t quite live up to it, but it holds its own. You’ve probably read enough about her already, so I’ll just say that it’s nice to see the Leslie speaker (or the digital equivalent thereof) getting some PT in 2019.
Elbow — Giants of All Sizes. The kings of waltz time, back with big, shiny production and Guy Garvey’s presentation of every syllable of every lyric as if it were a Fabergé egg. I fear that they don’t have much interesting to say, or perhaps I’m just not listening closely enough.
Fontaines D.C. — Dogrel. Little margin for error for groups like this. You need either a consistently funny lyricist or a kick-ass rhythm section, or else a full-length becomes tedious.
* Dori Freeman — Every Single Star. A nice tidy package of a country album. No bells and whistles, just compact arrangements under thoughtful lyrics about love and loss, with a few unexpected chord changes and shaved measures.
* The Futureheads — Power. The smarter, but less successful, and therefore more bitter, and therefore smarter, and therefore less successful, and therefore more bitter younger siblings of the Kaiser Chiefs.
Gang Starr — One of The Best Yet. Old-school hip-hop revival, picking up where it left off. I was never really into them the first time around, so the nostalgia factor is kinda lost on me, but this is good.
Freddie Gibbs & Madlib — Bandana. Madlib’s tracks have always left me feeling anxious and claustrophobic, like being at one of the 1950’s cocktail party scenes he likes to sample, with shrill horns and laughing, drunk women. Freddie Gibbs’s inspired logorrhea doesn’t save the day.
GoldLink — Diaspora. Nimble, quick DC rapper. His beats become more interesting the farther they venture into “ethnic” sounds and rhythms. One to keep an eye on, I think.
Marika Hackman — Any Human Friend. Manages to sing for 40 minutes about sex without being the least bit sexy.
Courtney Hartman — Ready Reckoner. Acoustic folk aimed squarely at the “Mountain Stage” crowd. As if to leave no doubt, one track even features the sound of someone hiking, chirping crickets and all. The artist you are looking for is Laura Marling.
The Highwomen — The Highwomen. At the vertex of the Venn diagram formed by the Travelling Wilburys, The View, and Sassy Mom t-shirts, lies this supergroup of B-list female country vocalists. I imagine that there is a demographic that would adore this, and boy oh boy am I not in it
* Injury Reserve — Injury Reserve. This feels like watching an episode of Atlanta, or like watching Vines, or doing both at the same time. Clever, honest hip-hop with unexpected yet effective vocal effect glitches.
The Japanese House — Good at Falling. Inoffensive electronica.
* Carly Rae Jepsen — Dedicated. Extremely well-conceived and executed bubble-gum pop. Puzzling album sequencing, as the first two songs are kind of crappy, and the rest are great. This could be a result of some record company AI-driven algorithm that is beyond my comprehension.
* King Princess — Cheap Queen. Things seem to be calibrated just right here. Singing is soulful but not hammy or cloying. Arrangements are groovy but not overly derivative. Production throwing just enough curves to keep the batter from sitting on fastballs. Maybe I was just in a good mood the day I listened to this. Or maybe the songs are just really good.
Steve Lacy — Apollo XXI. Jazzy chords, falsetto, and sex lyrics do not a Prince make.
* Mon Laferte — Norma. I hesitate to simply label this as “Latin pop,” because it’s a genre I know nothing about, but I do think it sums up what’s going on here: Spanish vocals, Latin percussion, horns, acoustic guitar. Fronted by a Chilean dynamo who jumps from nightclub vamping to insane wailing to capable rapping to Guinness-book-worthy rolling of her “r’s.” Should probably do for Chile what Bjork did for Iceland, although for all I know she already has.
* Miranda Lambert — Wildcard. High-quality modern country with top-notch musicianship as always. I can’t look past some of the tired C&W tropes (twangy vox, pedal steel, sour mash harmonies), and the ethos that alcohol and sass will solve all one’s problems. But this is good and real.
Jenny Lewis — On the Line. I believe I’m supposed to like this artist, but I am not at all a fan of Jenny Lewis’ singing voice. Matters are made worse by the brassy, overdriven vocal effect they’ve put her through. Seems to want to channel Kate Bush or Carole King, but neither the songs nor the performance quite gets there for me. The artist you are looking for is Lana Del Rey.
* Jimmy Eat World — Surviving. Emo with a bit of the vocal edge sanded down. Do I hear Night Ranger here? Awesome guitar tone, and not afraid to let the songs breathe.
Little Simz — Grey Area. Energetic British female emcee. Sampled soul beats are a little trite, and I’m not sure she has enough to say for a full LP. A for effort.
* Lizzo — Cuz I Love You. Feels closer to an original cast recording of “Self-Empowerment: The Musical” than a pop or R&B album. A+ for effort, and a welcome and inevitable guest appearance from Missy Elliott.
Metronomy — Metronomy Forever. The artist you are looking for is LCD Soundsystem. I did like the song in which the narrator is the drummer.
Mdou Moctar — Ilana (The Creator). How do all these Touareg dudes end up with Stratocasters? This is cool for a while, but ends up drifting down the Rio de Santana a bit too far for my taste.
Maren Morris — Girl. This artist is not exactly sure what she should be. She would technically be filed under “Country,” and she does try to pull a Miranda Lambert imitation, although not really convincingly, on “Some of My Favorite People.” I think that she really wants to be Ariana Grande when she grows up, and I wish her luck with that. Winner of the Mixed Metaphor of the Year award for that single about bones and houses not falling, etc.
* Van Morrison — Three Chords & The Truth. Truth indeed, as Van the Man reminds us all how it’s done, and how much he still has left in the tank. I do feel like I deserve some kind of royalty for the drum part I played on a song called “Mergers & Acquisitions” back in ’96, but then again every note I’ve ever played on the drums is indebted to Neal Peart, so it all balances out.
Morrissey — California Son. Somehow Morrissey and Van Morrison are able to capture the angst and horror of the world in 2019 better than almost anyone. Something to be said for experience, and crotchety-ness. (See also last year’s Roger Waters abum)
The New Pornographers — In the Morse Code of Brake Lights. Carl Newman and his band of merry Canadians are back at it, and they stay faithful to their formula of unexpected chord sequences and clever-ish but indecipherable lyrics. A few songs here will get your head bobbing, but I can’t say they’ve trod any new ground this millennium.
* Olden Yolk — Living Theatre. Really good. I detect The Clientele, Real Estate, REM, Carly Simon? Moody but not morose.
Operator Music Band — Duo Duo. This aspires to Art with a capital A, from the album cover onward, à la Stereolab. Some groovy keyboard, but I fear that the quality of the songwriting doesn’t quite get there.
Oso Oso — Basking in The Glow. Pretty vocal harmonies and judicious use of guitar distortion distinguish this from your run-of-the-mill emo. One could do worse.
The Paranoid Style — A Goddamn Impossible Way of Life. I probably should have listened to this more closely, but I was cooking dinner. Like Eleanor Friedburger on amphetamines, but lower-quality musicianship, and some questionable production / engineering choices. Music like this works best when it’s stripped down (think Telecasters through a Fender Twin), but they tried to go for “beefy” (think Les Pauls through Marshall stacks), yet meanwhile the bass drum sounds like me flicking a cardboard box with my index finger. I shouldn’t be so critical.
Pedro The Lion — Phoenix. The Karl Ove Knausgaard of guitar rock. Prosaic nostalgia for lost youth, executed with shameless and tireless clarity.
Caroline Polachek — Pang. Female vocalist over keyboard tracks which alternate between moody and jumpy.
Mike Posner — A Real Good Kid. Dude knows his way around a pop song, and my sincere condolences on his loss, but this is some solipsistic, Camp-Rock-sounding stuff. It will probably sell a gazillion copies, if it already hasn’t.
Pronoun — I’ll Show You Stronger. Dense with chime-y guitars and 16th notes on the hi-hat. I have no idea what the lead singer is on about, as she’s buried deep in the mix somewhere, and she sings in some kind of ESL accent (even though the Internets say she’s from Boston?), often with some weird glottal auto-tremolo. Lyrics: they still matter.
* The Rails — Cancel the Sun. As if Richard and Linda Thompson had stayed married and gotten really into Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
The Rocket Summer — Sweet Shivers. Remember that scene in Footloose when Kevin Bacon is all angry about something, so he goes to that abandoned warehouse and dances? This album is like that. These guys are good at their instruments though, especially the drummer.
Lucy Rose — No Words Left. Despite the title, this is not an album of instrumentals. Would fit right in on the Sirius/XM “Coffeehouse” channel.
* Ximena Sariñana — ¿Dónde Bailarán Las Niñas? The Snoop Dogg of Latin pop. Laid-back clave beats, 80’s synths and a Mexicana vocalist who delivers all the songs, even the dancier numbers, without breaking a sweat. Easy listening.
* Say Anything — Oliver Appropriate. I’m very late to the Say Anything party. And while the overall style on display here – delivering every syllable and plucking every guitar string as if his life depended on it – can wear on you, there’s enough here to merit a recommendation. Songs, and song fragments (am I the only one hearing Guided by Voices here?) about drugs and love and death, fully earnest but leaving room for cleverness.
Nico Segal & Nate Fox — Intellexual. Floaty, jazzy R&B / hip-hop stylings. At my day job, we would say that this “fails to get traction.”
Sleeper — The Modern Age. Guitar-driven “alternative rock” (whatever that means these days) with a female vocalist who would benefit from some pitch correction. I appreciate the energy, but I feel like there are a fifty thousand other bands around like this, many of whom do this better.
Solange — When I Get Home. Moody / arty R&B, with great basslines and unexpected synth. I should probably appreciate Solange more.
Somos — Prison on A Hill. Apple Music categorizes this as “punk,” but this is light years away from the Melvins. I hear more REO Speedwagon, or Grace Under Pressure-era Rush. Chorus-y guitars and electronic drum fills abound, along with earnest lyrics about war and climate change.
* Bruce Springsteen — Western Stars. The arid plains and dust bowls of Nebraska and Ghost of Tom Joad have been peeled back to reveal a technicolor Western epic, swooping strings and horns ablaze like in that “Welcome to America” video they play at passport control at Logan Airport. At first, you might worry that there’s some MAGA-esque mythologizing going on here, but, Bruce being Bruce, there’s more than enough bitter to offset the sweet.
Laura Stevenson — The Big Freeze. Further evidence of the profound influence of Stevie Nicks on today’s music.
* Harry Styles — Fine Line. Very listenable MOR pop music. I should know this guy already, right?
Taylor Swift — Lover. All blemishes have been airbrushed away. There’s a clever line here and there, and the vocal performance is solid, but I honestly found Mike Posner more sympathetic than this, and that’s saying something.
Tegan And Sara — Hey, I’m Just Like You. This appeared on the listening schedule right after JPEGMafia, I suspect not unintentionally, as this is an effective palate-cleanser. Like sorbet, cool and leaving you ready for the next course. I imagine this is on heavy rotation among Women’s and Gender Studies majors.
Tyler, The Creator — Igor. Aimless and indulgent. A couple of cool beats and a bit of decent rapping and a whole lot of nonsense.
Vampire Weekend — Father of The Bride. There’s no rational reason why I shouldn’t like this. The songs are good, the singing is good, the arrangements are good, each snare drum sound is more impeccable than the last. Maybe I’m jealous?
* John Van Deusen — (I Am) Origami, Pt. 3 — A Catacomb Hymn. The drummer avoids the crash cymbal enough to keep us on just this side of the border to Emo-town. Vocals like Michael Stipe, songs like Matthew Sweet, and an album title that sounds like it came out of a Rush-song-title-generator bot. There’s something here, though, and in fact there are a Pts. 1 and 2, the latter of which Apple Music classifies as “Christian & Gospel.” I believe this guy deserves a closer look.
Vanishing Twin — The Age of Immunology. Arty psychedelia that sounds like is was made by some kind of “collective.” Being a fan of both “art” and “psychedelia,” I can dig it, although the tri-lingual spoken word bits are more Guggenheim than Ummagumma.
Wand — Laughing Matter. What the hell happened to this band? Someone probably told them that they sound like Radiohead, and they took that as a license to go on a seven-year-long aimless jam. Unfortunate.
Weezer — Black Album. I’m always interested in hearing what Rivers Cuomo has to say. This time out he’s ditched his overdrive pedal for a wah-wah and a piano, and the results are hit-or-miss. Irresistible lead single and top-notch drumming, though.
Aaron West & The Roaring Twenties — Routine Maintenance. Emo guys doing emo-Americana, with thoughtful arrangements.
Kanye West — Jesus Is King. If you’ve been following Kanye from the beginning, you know that the religion thing is not a gimmick. I’m not sure how well his theology reconciles with Matthew 19:29, though, and I get the feeling he didn’t really try too hard this time out.
* Billy Woods & Kenny Segal — Hiding Places. I had no idea what to expect when I first put this on. From the artists’ names I thought maybe country? This is a long, long way from Seals & Crofts. Cold-eyed hip-hop with beats to burn, from two guys who sound like they may have some post-Operation-Enduring-Freedom PTSD to sort out.
Jamila Woods — LEGACY! LEGACY! Confident and capable R&B, hammering home a message of self-empowerment, each track named in all caps after various idols of hers.
White Reaper — You Deserve Love. The antithesis of the Black Angels: heavy on the “white,” light on the “reaper.” Badfinger / Cheap Trick for the end of the decade.
* Y La Bamba — Mujeres. The more straight-ahead numbers sound like Camera Obscura, which I don’t think plays to her strengths. When she lets her formidable rhythm section head off at full gallop, this becomes transcendent.
Young Thug — So Much Fun. Feels a bit like a genre exercise in modern rap music, although maybe this is actually the genre and modern rap music is the exercise.
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