The Factual Opinion

The Best of 2006: #9

Scott Walker
The Drift

What the fuck does Scott Walker do for fun? His use of the phrase “swanky suit” is close, but not good enough. Here’s a guy who once joined a monastery in order to learn Gregorian chants. Here’s a guy who dive-bombed his career as a pop star in order to make impenetrable works of existentialist art—he’s put out only three albums in 25 years. (Name one other existentialist musician. Go ahead. We’ll wait.) Seriously, what does he do in his down time? I can’t imagine that he sits in an armchair resting his baritone voice—which most people would find more suited to Andrew Lord Webber than to political indictments—for ten years while his ideas form. Then again, I can’t imagine him not doing that. I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if he spent ten years setting his EQs. The music either pulverizes with industrial squeals and thunder, or everything drops away to highlight one particular—and, usually, particularly unnerving—sound, be it crickets or footsteps or squiggly white noise. But always there’s that voice, singing precious bits like “Can’t turn from a crotch in the darkness/ To turn to the valley of a king/ ja-da ja-da ja-da ja-da jing jing jing.” 

With most of our picks for albums of the year, you’d be hard-pressed to name the most genius moment. With The Drift it’s the same, except that genius=terrifying. How about the moment when the footsteps get closer and closer and closer? Or how about the moment in “The Escape” when Satan speaks through the voice of Donald Duck?  Or how about the jarring “Pssst pssst”s in “A Lover Loves” that ends the album by making you feel like there’s someone with you in the empty room? How about when Brogue says, “I’LL PUNCH A DONKEY ON THE STREETS OF GALWAY”? With most of our picks for albums of the year, we enjoy listening to the music. With The Drift, we stand in awe that the album ever got made. We can’t imagine life inside Scott Walker’s head, but we’d love five minutes to try it out. The Drift gives us seventy. 

-Marty Brown, 2006

You want some more impenetrable masterpieces, eh? Well… I’ll let Tucker field this one. Tucker?

Tucker here: If you like your music to require a little exploration, check out Ornette Coleman's new album Sound Grammar--it's not his best, but average Ornette is better than anything then the Marsalis family ever did.  Wolf Eyes put out two powerhouses this year as well: Human Animal and the incredible, transcendent, ugly Anthony Braxton combo single, Black Vomit.  Derek Bailey unfortunately passed away early in 2006, but his final studio release the Play Sessions is a quiet, but fitting goodbye.  The Sub-Rosa Noise Anthology 69-2005 is one of the best all-inclusive noise compilations ever released, if you can't find a copy of the ten album California noise anthology (vinyl only.) 

If you can find that ten record set, give it to me immediately.  I'll like it for you.

The Best of 2006: #10

Burial
Burial

If one maintains one's patriotism, living one's life as closely to the teachings of Aaron Pierce as possible, one doesn't pay much attention to the music scene in Europe (specifically England) excepting whatever information the 'fork, the 'glow, and the 'pedia sneaks it's way across the bandwidth border.  This isn't a bad, xenophobic thing to do--after all, the last 15 years of music in Europe (specifically Great Britain) is so schizophrenic and herky-jerky that it would give anyone (specifically Glenn Morshower) a serious head injury, and Glenn can take a punch.  Even a rudimentary off the cuff time line (like the one coming) is educational.

It's something like this: trip-hop to pop to alterna-pop to Robbie Williams back to electronica then drum n' bass to bad French rap back to Robbie Williams swing by Pulp than back to electronica for a little minimalism than back to Robbie Williams than to grime, hang around grime, talk about grime, say grime is going to be huge, grime falls down and minimalism runs back in again, give some girl a microphone, Robbie Williams shows up, again, Pulp already fell apart, Jarvis Cocker loses all sense of direction, Robbie Williams releases a comic book, seriously and then, for the last twenty minutes of January 2006, dubstep.  Which has probably already ended.  Or it will, when Robbie Williams releases a novel, movie, soccer team or free make-out sesh's.

If anything, Burial shouldn't even exist--according to some dude on Amazon, there was only one copy of it at California's Amoeba Records, which has so many albums that it already has the three concept opera records you were thinking of releasing in two years when the man you haven't met yet breaks your heart.  On top of that, Burial is an album that's been referenced as an argument a hell of a lot more than it's probably even been played, which begs the question, "When an album is read about far more than copies of it have been spun, should it be in the top ten?" 

And the answer, simply put, is Yes.  Not only is Burial one of, if not the, strongest debut LP's of 2006, it's one of the most innovative pieces of electronic music in a long while.  Whereas the equally strong beats of Kode9's 2006 release are hidden beneath the dub vocals of Spaceape (who shows up on Burial as well,) the Burial LP is a near pristine gem of moody, dark sound, nearly unsullied by any perceivable human influence.  The whole modus operandi behind Burial's attack on the overly sentimental sound coming from the equally influential Touch records, or the almost non-human robot sounds coming from Sweden and Denmark courtesy of minimalist 12-inchers is found, excitingly, in a sample from Jim Jarmusch's Ghost Dog, "We gotta keep the old ways..."  Electronic music, long before it became the soundtrack for movie action sequences, ecstasy and goofball dancing was an attempt by innovative artists to explore the potential of sound, the potential of music to be made in a way that had never been done before--it was tedious, difficult work, and was often a product of curious technicians exploring art after hours: people weren't using Protools or Macs, they were using card systems and room-filling servers.  Is much of that stuff listenable, enjoyable--is it even interesting beyond a history lesson?  Not really.  But you can count, on one hand, the amount of times electronic music has done anything with the type of courage and ambition so often displayed in jazz and rock music, with the type of curiosity that inspired solitary technicians to punch numbers to make 20 second tracks.  DJ Shadow did it, a cracked out Tricky did, and, in 2006, so did Hyperdub's Burial.  While the album is something that comes across as fuss over nothing to many, and it makes for an immeasurably different experience on the headphones vs. speakers listen, it's an album that, will survive the six month love affair with dubstep and become a required listen for anyone who is craving something different than what rock and hip-hop have to offer.

-Tucker Stone, 2006

While Kode9's album gets a little too "huh" after a while, it's still an exciting listen.  For other boundary pushing albums in genre's content to navel-gaze, check out Neck from The Chemists, a hypnotic jazz album that rivals Burial in the hard-to-find department, and Keith Fullerton Whitman's Lisbon, an album consisting of one 40-odd minute live track that trumps the critically-heralded Tim Hecker album by a ratio of 10,000 to 4. 

The Best of 2006: #11

Califone
Roots & Crowns

Califone’s songs live in the spaces between their music. For a band so dedicated to silence and delicacy, when they comes, they comes with the thunder. From the opening drum warfare of “Pink & Sour” to the throbbing feedback on “A Chinese Actor” to the slow burn of “Black Metal Valentine,” Califone have never held onto the kind of exquisite tension that abounds on Roots & Crowns. Their rhythms have never been so relentless. Their blues have never been so murky. Their lyrics have never been so sharp. “It’s almost surgical/ The way you shatter/ When you hit the water,” Tim Rutilli growls in one memorable chorus. “The Orchids”—a cover of an old Psychic TV song Rutilli rediscovered on a forgotten mix-tape—provides a centerpiece that stands in contrast to the rest of the album. As perfect a song you’ll find this year or any, Califone play it mostly straight. Rutilli had just about given up music, songwriting, and Califone at the moment he happened upon “The Orchids.” When he sings, “And in the morning after the night/ I fall in love with the light,” at the end of that song, he not only articulates his own journey out of darkness and back into music, he makes plain the metaphor that gave birth to the entire album.

-Marty Brown, 2006

For more quietly experimental, blues-infested dirges, give a listen to TV on the Radio’s Return to Cookie Mountain.

The Best of 2006: #12

Spank Rock
YoYoYoYoYo

It's about an "ass shaking competition champ."  What's your problem?  For those under the age of 25, you probably don't remember what it was like to head to your local music store and take a gander at the various tapes by Luke, memorizing the images into an already fevered brain while on the way to a locked closet somewhere in your parents house.  In The Nude, Freak For Life--these were albums that were not, by any estimation, very good--but they sure as hell were honest.  Luke liked sex, he liked it in quantity, and he liked it with any version of female he could find.  Rapping was always secondary.  So were beats.  So was a quality hairstyles or some cosmetic dentistry.  In years past, hot sex hip-hop has been in short supply: sure, B.I.G. has that ridiculous track on Ready To Die, and Too Short seems incapable of dying, but as 2006 indicated, hip-hop's still more focused on dealing coke, shooting folks and making money.  Except for Kool Keith, everybody who raps about sex does it quickly: entire story arcs constructed around the things one can do with one's hard dick are, unfortunately, in short supply.

So ye ask, so ye shall receive.  To anyone who received a delay of game penalty because they didn't lay a hand on the controller while Spank Rock revealed the truth of "Backyard Betty" during a Madden 07 tournament, we salute you.  To those in Chinatown (yes.) who played "Coke & Wet" until their ears bled, we salute you.  To any Cuban-Americans who refuse to moderate the volume on "Rick Rubin" for the sake of a conversation regarding faith, we salute you as well.  And to Spank Rock, the second best thing to come out of Baltimore, after The Wire? 

Well, although we don't biologically have what you want, we're certainly stand idly by a dark alley while you have your way with some high school girls.  That's the best we have to offer--and after Yoyoyoyoyo, it's clearly not going to be enough.

-Tucker Stone, 2006

There wasn't anything like Spank Rock out this year, but you should still support fellow Baltimore heavyweights Wilderness and their sophomore release, Vessel States.  While you're at it, skip right past 2006's The Return of Dr. Octagon and pick up Kool Keith's 1997 banger Sex Style if you haven't already--Spankrock clearly kept his copy close by.

 

The Best of 2006: #13

Voxtrot
Your Biggest Fan
Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives
Raised By Wolves

Ramesh Srivastava feels nostalgia for things that haven't happened yet.  "When you wake up tomorrow,” he asks on “Rise Up In the Dirt”, “Will you be the father of something terrible?” Then, he reminds himself that “someday you will feel young again.” This is a dude in his early twenties, mind you, suffering from an acute feeling that his life is slipping away from him. Srivastava and his band, Voxtrot, craft immaculate songs cut from the same mold of maudlin, upbeat rock as Belle & Sebastian and the Smiths. But the thematic unity that Srivistava brings to each of their three EPs skyrockets them into a higher level of craftsmanship than any other group of Morrissey wannabes. When Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives culminates in the coda of “Soft & Warm”—with Srivastava leading a sing-along of the plea, “You are so young/ So feel alive/ And someday you will live on your own”—an entire journey has taken place from self doubt to reassurance. These kids will undoubtedly overcome the weighty feeling of youth, and they may never improve upon the songs of their first three EPs. On the other hand, they may shed their imitative song-structures and emerge as a real creative force. The full album will come out in 2007 and give us a clearer idea of where this band is headed. In the meantime, it’s more than okay that they sound familiar and impossible to place—it means they probably sound like your new favorite band. 

-Marty Brown, 2006

Don’t worry, Belle & Sebastian, we still love you. And although The Life Pursuit gave us diminishing returns as an album, it’s still a collection of pretty fantastic songs.

The Best of 2006: #14

Tom Waits
Orphans

A Faustian bargain is a simple procedure. You pledge your soul and the devil gives you whatever you want in return. But Tom Waits was too clever for the devil, and he flipped it on him. Tom Waits took the devil’s soul, and, in return, the devil will never allow Tom Waits to die. When Waits asks “What Keeps Mankind Alive?” on the opening track to the third CD of his triple-album monolith of 2006, he asks because he’s seen generations come and go and he can’t believe he’s still here. Neither can we. Remember that there’s no precedent for the work that Waits does. Rock & roll is the newest art form, aside from, I don’t know, web design. It hasn’t been around long enough that we know—or really understand—what a career artist in rock & roll looks like. Waits is the first. His contemporaries—Dylan, Costello, the Rolling Stones—have jettisoned their own voices for the voices of those who came before them. Waits spends the entirety of Orphans fleshing out his own voice, and—though it seems incongruous to call his artistic voice “singular,” since even he divides his psyche into three distinct parts—there’s nothing else like him. “Two Sisters” rests on a spare, broken-sounding violin. You can hear Waits’ lips smack as he gnaws through the lyrics. “Danny Says” turns a Ramones song into a mournful ballad. “Puttin’ On the Dog” finds Waits in rumba form, tapping on glass bottle and doing the slow twist. “Missing My Son” isn’t a song at all—it’s Waits telling (inventing?) the story of a woman in a grocery store telling him he reminds her of his son. Any fan will have a decent idea of what they’ll find on Orphans, but that’s hardly the point. This is Waits digging into the corners of his art form and expanding the size of his workroom by doing so. Each song comes from its own idea, and three CDs are far too little for a man with a million ideas.

-Marty Brown, 2006 

We’re in a new era of rock artists. You should listen to Bob Dylan’s Modern Times, an album that’s good and good for you, but don’t get too comfortable, because Tommy’s waiting.

The Best of 2006: #15

Quantic
An Announcement To Answer

One wonders if Quantic was hacking DJ Shadow's email this year.  Finding out that the pre-eminent turntablist/wizard/found sound extraordinaire was going to mess around with trite vocals and alienating his fanbase must have brought Mr. Will Holland (Quantic's nom-de-plure) almost as much joy as when RJD2 provided dull-ass Keds-style beats behind Aceyalone's moronic nose-dive of an album.  After all, without Shadow and RJD2 for competition, this could be the year of the Quantic explosion.

Then again, an explosion of turntablist/wizard/found sound proportion has about as much cultural impact as A & E canceling re-runs of MI-5: it gets a small group of vocal people really excited while failing to make any impact on the ratings of CSI: Miami.  (CSI: Miami took over MI-5's spot on the former Law & Order network.)  Still, Quantic made a strong showing, and considering the over-the-top derision fired at Shadow, it's nice that somebody who still makes music with samples and records could get love in 2006, otherwise known as the year of Night Ripper.  It's also nice for that someone, Will Holland, to be screwing around with samples south of the border (the border of Mexico.)  The only stuff that makes it across the shores of Florida since Elian Gonzalez in 2006 was a whole lot more Tom Ze than anybody needed, and an interminable string of Carnivale-style booty music set to late 90's trance.  Quantic took what worked--whether it was old school bossa nova or not, than he added new school Japanese flutes: and on top of that, everything that has yet to be re-released by Verve that involves A) Paris and B) Jazz.  On top of the top of that, there's only two tracks (the opener and closer) that utilize solely studio mixing.  This is new school electronica: live instruments abound (although a considerable amount of the instrumentation is studio musicians) and it's that live instrumentation that pulls the album further into such obscure genre specificity that almost no one ended up paying attention.  Hopefully, a little time will remedy that mistake. 

-Tucker Stone, 2006

No one, in good conscious, would recommend that you actually pay for DJ Shadow's misstep The Outsider.  We will firmly recommend that you remember that Shadow is, after all, only human, and he seems to like his album very much.  Take with that what you will.

The Best of 2006: #16

Asobi Seksu
Citrus

Listening to Citrus reminds me quite a bit of listening to the RAD Soundtrack growing up in the 80’s. A Brooklyn-based band playing shoegazey pop with a bombshell singer who alternates between English and Japanese lyrics may have little in common with a long-forgotten movie about BMX bikers, but vocalist Yuki Chikudate makes the comparison implicit. You might remember a little number on the RAD Soundtrack called “Send Me An Angel.” Real Life’s monster 80’s hit might not have gathered the same critical cachet over the years as some of its contemporaries, but it still has the potency. David Sterry’s voice rang with equal measures of lust, innocence and indifference—and that’s the exact alchemy that Chikudate has, the exact moment in pop history she harks back toward. But where Sterry swore, “If a girl walks in and calls her name in my heart, I’ll turn and walk away,” Chikudate intimates that she’s “awaiting an audience.” That coy attitude (the band’s name means “playful sex” in Japanese) sets Asobi Seksu apart from the mysterious barrage of dream-pop bands who have managed to somehow grow and thrive in the current musical landscape. As guitars and keyboards swirl and churn underneath her, Chikudate retains a sweet, come-hither purr. Yes, they owe an enormous debt to My Bloody Valentine. But, for a band working in a genre where the very name implies a disconnection with one’s audience in favor of a fixation with one’s sneakers, Asobi Seksu play a miraculous game of courting folks. Carefully styling themselves like a J-Pop band, the Brooklyn quartet have built up quite a mystique about them. Citrus only enhances that mystique. It may be the most elusive and ephemeral album of the year.

-Marty Brown, 2006

Yo La Tengo’s I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass is loose and rambling where Citrus is tight and potent, but both would be perfect companions if you wanted to stay inside on a sunny day.