Abe Vigoda
Skeleton

(PPM)

Beach House
Devotion

(Carpark)

BELL
EP

(self-released)

Bon Iver
For Emma, Forever Ago

(Jagjaguwar)

Bonnie Prince Billy
Lie Down in the Light

(Drag City)

Born Ruffians
Red, Yellow & Blue

(Warp)

The Breeders
Mountain Battles

(4AD)

Nick Cave
Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!

(Mute)

Call this the year of the Crystal band: Antlers, Castles, Stilts. The fact that Crystal Castles share their name with an 1983 Atari arcade game and play keyboards using vintage video consoles sound chips pretty much sums up the Toronto-based duo’s punk-rock/video-game chic ethic. The recent sample controversy about their track “Insecticon” should not eclipse the fact that Crystal Castles are a genuinely exciting young band, offering an innovative mixture of fuzzed-up screaming vocals and the disco-gone-wrong compositions of Ethan Kath. “Magic Spells” and “Reckless” bring to mind ultra-catchy and more danceable version of the “Legend of Zelda” soundtrack, mixed in with dissonant electro vibes for good measure. In the end, Crystal Castles is an original and fun first album that manages to retain an intense and surprisingly mature vibe amongst all the 8-bit glitches and Game Boy noises. (Morgane)

If albums were people, I’d be in much deeper trouble with my wannabe-shrink of a sister than I am already. With its barely intelligible lyrics and overall ghoulish pop drone, Crystal Stilts’ Alight of Night has at least a mild case of what in the animate is referred to as antisocial personality disorder — and boy, do I find it irresistible! Yet Crystal Stilts aren’t brooding to a fault: They can sound sweet too, maybe even transcendent, on tracks like “Prismatic Room”, “Shattered Shine” and the closer, “The City in the Sea.” A minute on Google will provide you with all the comparisons and supposed influences your heart desires (Joy Division and the Jesus and Mary Chain being chief among the name checks), but that their sound is not — gasp! — completely unprecedented shouldn’t dissuade you from getting seriously excited about this long overdue debut full-length. Alight is refreshing in its sly charisma. It is quiet abandon done right. (Jane)

Few records brought more joy to us this year than this spectacular new record from Australia’s Cut Copy. The deliriously fun and hooky In Ghost Colours is an electronic record electronica-haters could love, with dancey beats, rousing choruses and shimmering pop melodies worthy of early-80s Britpop. Skimming through reviews of the record, the word “positive” keeps coming up, and there is indeed a consistent cheeriness throughout that never gets cloying. For that you can thank in part the expert production of DFA’s Tim Goldsworthy, who builds on the promise of the band’s previous release while keeping things light and airy. Fun and utterly unpretentious, In Ghost Colours is one of the feel-good records of 2008. (James)

There’s nothing groundbreaking about Nothing Is Precious Enough For Us, the latest from Joel Thibodeau’s Death Vessel – it’s just a beautiful and strange collection of songs, with warm, sunny melodies and inventive arrangements. Thibodeau’s castrato-like voice is unusual, to be sure, but once the novelty wears off, his songs take on their own persona, shedding the “I-can’t-believe-he’s-a-dude” reaction many initially have and enveloping you with their beauty and grace. His vocals are haunting and soulful, and the album in infused with lovely and uplifting tracks, from the glorious choruses of “Fences Around Field” to the Paul Simon-esque folk gentleness of “Jitterakandie” and “The Widening.” (Joe)

Who knew? Once considered a Grizzly Bear side project, Department of Eagles prove they are a great band in their own right with the wondrous In Ear Park. Led by Daniel Rossen of Grizzly Bear and helped enormously by the band’s other members in the studio, the band delivers the same dreamy avant pop of Grizzly Bear’s Yellow House and Friends, with baroque arrangements, stirring hooks and beautiful harmonies, resulting in one of the year’s finest pop albums. The band, formed by Rossen and Fred Nicolaus in 2000 when they were NYU students, has honed its sound from its previous effort, 2003’s sprawling but entertaining The Cold Nose. Now joined by several Grizzly Bear members, Department of Eagles have a released a touching and elegiac record (Rossen made the album in tribute to his late father) that never falters. Not a bad cut on the record. (James)

The Dodos have put together such a unique combination of genres and sounds here that it’s pretty much impossible to dismiss them, with or without all of the hype. With a propulsive (almost tribal) style of percussion and finger-picking, rootsy ruckus, this album remains dynamic from beginning to end. Their live show is explosive with energy and allows you to connect the audio to the visual, discovering all of the nuanced instruments that blend so well in the recording: a toy piano, vibes, sleigh bells, a tamborine adorned for feet (for even more percussion!). Favorite new band, favorite new record. (Tammy)

The king of ambient electronica retains his title with another enchanting, engrossing album. Proving that ambient is about more than chillout, he builds magnificent yet delicate sonic cathedrals in which the wholes are vastly more than the sum of their parts. As usual, Christian Fennesz mostly works alone but has guests on two tracks: Anthony Pateras contributes prepared piano to the denser, buzzing co-composition “The Colour of Three” and Rosy Parlane co-writes/performs “Glide,” which starts as quiet noise and becomes a gently clanking drone crescendo. Easily one of the best electronic albums of 2008. (Steve)

There’s something inherently compelling about a chorus of voices joined in song. Seattle’s Fleet Foxes join that sensibility — virtually everyone in the band lends a sizable vocal contribution here — with a penchant for pop hooks (at times) and void-spanning textures (at others). While Robin Pecknold’s voice is a close cousin to those of Jim James and Ben Bridwell, the songs heard on their self-titled album head into a more self-consciously pastoral (note the titles “Ragged Wood” and “Blue Ridge Mountains”) direction. And yet for all the massed harmonies and fervent instrumentation heard here, the group’s command of dynamics is subtle but definitely present. Note the drums that advance “Ragged Wood”, or the slow, steady progression heard in “Your Protector”. Fleet Foxes borrow from the folk traditions of two continents and the songcraft of two coasts, and the result is a constantly shifting, richly adorned work. (Toby)

The masterful indie electronica of 2007’s EP Reset would have been a tough act to follow for anyone but Steven Ellison, a.k.a. Flying Lotus, a Los Angeles-based DJ, producer and electronic musician. The laptop maestro’s second long player departs from the lounge-y vibe of his earlier works and establishes a more mature, ambient sound which requires several listen before revealing the beauty of its multi-layered, almost cinematic in nature, tracks. Flying Lotus’ trademark bass-laden compositions and mysterious samples find inspiration in abstract random noises as demonstrated by the cosmic-sounding samples on “Auntie’s Harp”, Ellison’s homage to his great-aunt, jazz legend Alice Coltrane. Los Angeles’ mostly instrumental short tracks almost feel like the soundtracks to a futuristic avant-garde movie and together, those musical pieces create a complex and flawless electronic hip-hop masterpiece. (Morgane)

I was ready to declare Frightened Rabbit’s The Midnight Organ Fight one of the freshest and most exciting debuts I’ve heard this year, until I discovered that this is actually their second album. How could a band this good remain a secret? The consensus seems to be that their first album, from two years ago, was a bit inconsistent and never quite found an audience. Their fate should now change very quickly. Now with the stellar indie label Fat Cat, this Scottish trio have delivered a warm, soulful and powerful record that only grows more endearing with repeated listenings. The opener, “The Modern Leper,” is one of the year’s outstanding tracks, a slow, building anthem filled with anguished lyrics. Indeed, frontman Scott Hutchison’s dark, lyrical songwriting gives the record a unique voice, with his brother Grant’s creative drumming adding a driving force. And despite the band’s spare lineup, The Midnight Organ Fight has great range and a real depth in sound, with plaintive ballads mixed in with moments of countryish twang and a few midtempo stompers. Highly recommended. (James)

Finally, Gang Gang Dance gives us the album that unites lovers of electro, rock, hip-hop and prog – no easy thing. Brooklyn’s Gang Gang Dance has always been an enigma, and that can be a good or bad thing, depending on your point of view. Their recording output has been uneven – and I don’t mean uneven in quality, as the band’s releases have uniformly been strong, but uneven in sound and aesthetic and often, frustratingly, uneven in availability (the great Revival of the Shittest has long been out of print, and the self-titled debut on Fusetron is always hard to get too). That air of mystery has given the band many admirers but it’s also kept them from reaching a larger audience, I suspect. Well, that won’t be the case with Gang Gang Dance’s superb new album, Saint Dymphna. It is easily their most pop-friendly album, with enough smooth beats and hooks to find their way into a few dance clubs in Williamsburg, but plenty of exotic arty touches, polyrhythms, and experimental sounds, as hard-core fans have come to expect. Gang Gang Dance have dipped their toes in pop and hip-hop and art rock before, but on Saint Dymphna they’ve jumped right into the waters with no apologies: “House Jam,” the track that should raise many eyebrows, could almost pass for 80s dance-pop; “Princes” is straight-up hip-hop, rapping and all; “Blue Nile” employs funky beats with proggy guitar riffs; and the gorgeous finale, “Dust,” with its heavy synths and beats, sounds like something right out of vintage 4AD. Saint Dymphna is an instant classic that should immediately be placed alongside the finest works of Animal Collective, Black Dice and Excepter. (James)

We try to avoid sticking compilations on this list, but every now and then something so special comes along, we would be derelict in not citing it. Gas’s Nah Und Fern is essential on so many levels – as a meticulously compiled box set, as a piece of important history, as pure entertainment. Box sets are a mixed blessing – bloated, expensive, unwieldy – and an electronic box set may seem even more daunting, but Kompakt’s 4-CD package of the complete works of Wolfgang Voigt’s immensely influential Gas is truly something special. Voigt is one of the most important figures in electronica, one of the leading forces in the birth of Cologne’s minimal-techno scene, which transformed dance music into a genuine cultural force. Here is Voigt’s work in the late 1990s, digitally remastered, mostly ambient but with subtle use of rhythms and loops to give the music an atmospheric, hypnotic edge. You don’t have to be a deejay or a club hound to love Gas; fans of Eno’s ambient work will love it too. Voigt later went on to found Kompakt, one of the world’s greatest labels – of any genre – and now finally have this long-awaited compilation of his finest work, with more than five hours of music! Absolutely indispensable in every way. (James)

Hands down, the party album of 2008. The greatest mashup album ever assembled – and “assemble” is the only right word to describe this kind of music. Who else but Girl Talk can seamlessly connect Outkast, Roy Orbison, the Spencer Davis Group, DJ Funk, Cupid, Pete Townshend, Twisted Sister, Huey Lewis, Lil Mama, Ludacris, Lil Wayne, Edwin Starr, Sinead O’Connor and Rage Against the Machine – and that’s just on the first track. No bad cuts on the record? Try no bad moments. It soars from start to finish, and in the process Gregg Gillis (aka Girl Talk) has done more than make the year’s finest party album, he’s made a nice statement about the universality of pop music. Here’s your one time to buy the CD, folks, since Girl Talk has made one pressing and promises to do no future ones. (James)

We all did a double-take of sorts when we heard that Antony (of Johnsons fame, of course) was making a dance album, but damn if he hasn’t pulled it off. Here Mr. Hegarty assumes a new identity, lending his highly distinctive falsetto to a disco-y/house-y electronic outfit that might be the best thing DFA’s ever done. It’s a perfect fit for Antony’s voice, and the retroness of producer/mastermind Andrew Butler’s sound is changed up with some cool effects – there’s some real originality here in how the old-school styles are blended/contrasted. Nor is this one of those dance albums that’s all beats and no hooks – there are real melodies here, and some great horn riffs. Butler also sings a bit, and Kim Ann Foxman and Nomi add female vocals, so there’s plenty of variety in that arena as well. Ever since this came out in Europe, we’ve been besieged by requests for it. The summer’s dance soundtrack still sizzles well into winter. (Steve)

What a year this has been for Brooklyn’s High Places. They put out two full-lengths, a ton of popular 7-inches, and emerged as one of THE band’s to watch in 2008. We not only watched, but heard plenty, especially this, their proper full-length debut (the previous offering was a collection of singles). Mary Pearson’s vocals and the haziness of the music impart an ethereal mood to the proceedings, but there’s also an unabashed pop sensibility throughout, alongside a surprisingly potent low end. The duo of Pearson and Robert Barber have expanded on that sound for their self-titled debut, and while some of the songs here are rhythmically charged and catchy (“Golden,” “The Storm”), there are also more forays into a drifting, almost ambient sound. These songs also feel more complex than their earlier work; they’re clearly looking to see where the style developed so memorably on those initial singles will take them. The result here is a defiantly textured ambient pop album, with reference points spanning everything from dance music to field recordings to the drifting spatial rock of, say, Califone. (Toby)

Too many bands, eager to home in on a profitable genre, undeservedly adopt the psychedelic label, but Indian Jewelry is the real deal, Free Gold! throbs, drones and fuzzes, but the band is way too cool to get excited, so they keep their pace slow. The Houston art-rock group, which has over 20 guest members who fluctuate in and out, claims inspiration for the groundbreaking music of the 1970s, but they’ve made an experimental, psychedelic sound that’s all their own. “Bird is Broke (Won’t Sing)” has a constant pulsing that sounds the way a hangover feels, but in a good way. (It should inspire that eyes half open, slightly pissed off look in listeners.) “Everyday” pears down the instruments to focus on some sexy, echoing female vocals. And the only lyrics in the David Byrne-ish “Hello Africa” are “Hello Africa” over and over. To our ears, this was the year’s finest psych album. (Margi)

Best new artist of 2008? Very possible. Listening to the debut album from Lia Ices, courtesy of our local Rare Book Room Records, gave me a chilling, exciting feeling that I was not just listening to a good record but indeed the work of a rare and special talent. At the heart of Necima is Lia Ices and her amazing voice and piano. There is a warmth and tenderness to her singing, unusual in its depth and complexity. I’m sure many will compare her to Cat Power, and Ices does indeed possess a bit of Chan Marshall’s scratchy soulfulness, but there’s an aching vulnerability that’s all her own. And the arrangements! This is chamber pop of the highest order, with swirling strings and other acoustic instruments bringing a majesty to the songs. There’s not a bad track on the record, but my favorites are “Healed,” perhaps the most pop-friendly track on the record, the long and rich “Many Moons,” reminiscent of the best of Joni Mitchell’s early-70s work, and the uplifting finale, “You Will.” Ices is joined by some fine talent too, including David Muller of the Fiery Furnaces, Andy Macleod of White Magic and Robbie Lee of Love as Laughter. Lia Ices is going places. (James)

No question, when it comes to hip-hop, this was Lil Wayne’s year (sorry, Kanye). The “best rapper alive,” as he modestly calls himself, put together a beautifully realized hip-hop record in Tha Carter III (the sequel to Tha Carter II, natch), with a steady stream of guest appearances (Jay-Z, Kanye West, Babyface) and mixtape samples galore. The beats are smooth and easy, and with singles like “Lollipop,” “Dr. Carter” (complete with chipmunk choruses, a David Axelrod sample and Jay-Z’s vocals) and the politically themed “Tie My Hands” (a devastating post-Katrina indictment). Few rappers these days use wordplay this imaginatively and know how to tie it together musically as well. Maybe he is the best rapper alive. (Ralph)

Electronic music may not be known for tunes of Ramones-like brevity, but even the most ardent clubhound will be left a bit breathless after the knockout 30-minute opener (no, that’s not a misprint, 30 minutes) on Hans-Peter Lindstrom’s latest epic, Where You Go I Go Too. “Epic” isn’t a word tossed around much these days when it comes to electronica, but Lindstrom thinks big. And on Where You Go the Norwegian dance maestro recalls the bolder days of 70s disco (Giorgio Moroder, Cerrone) in making one of the year’s very finest dance albums. The half-hour title track is a wonder, never faltering through its many peaks and valleys, anchored by a series of synth riffs that brings ripples of joy with every chord. Not since the heydey of Kraftwerk have we seen a tune this long and exciting. The rest of the album? The pieces are shorter (two more tracks, a more 10 and 16 minutes in length) but daring and adventurous as well, floating elegantly with soft melodies, mighty fat bass-drums and bubbling basslines. (Tammy)

This one was a finalist for Album of the Year. M83’s move towards more vocals increases considerably and successfully thanks to new vocalist/keyboardist Morgan Kibby, not only because her breathy vocals are sexily intoxicating, but also for the variety she brings. Leader Anthony Gonzalez’s love of vintage keyboards remains, but he has not just moved more towards pop, he’s also honed his songwriting skills and acquired a better sense of structure. Yeah, the chiming guitars (returning multi-instrumentalist Loic Maurin) and chord progression of “Graveyard Girl” keep threatening to turn into “Money Changes Everything,” but that fits well with the ‘80s love displayed throughout. Gonzalez shows he’s still got the ability to craft lush, dreamily drifting instrumental soundscapes on the closing “Midnight Souls Still Remain.” (Steve)

With a first track that thunders in like a surf rock/Jesus and Mary Chain mashup, it’s clear from the start that Distortion represents a new aesthetic wrinkle for Stephin Merritt’s motley Magnetic Fields. While 2004’s spotty I found Merritt flailing into too-crisp adult-alternative territory, the band’s latest effort embraces noise and mess to great effect. As the title implies, the entire album is swathed in layers of feedback, which half-submerges Merritt’s dramatic baritone into an appealing intimacy. Merritt shares vocal responsibilities with the terrific Shirley Simms (who figured prominently throughout 69 Love Songs); her liquid alto hovers just above the oceans of guitar squall, bringing brightness to the album’s best songs. Distortion finds Merritt’s trademark lyric acerbity (among the topics this time around: getting drunk to avoid dreaming, a nun who wants to be a centerfold, and, well, “Zombie Boy”) combining with some of the most infectious melodies of his career. The close, intentionally murky production highlights the perfect simplicity of the Magnetic Fields’ trademark sad, bouncy love songs; Distortion reminds us that nobody does them better. (Anna)

Stern’s debut album was very guitar-focused and kinda mathy, a daring punk-metal-prog hybrid. This time out, still working with Hella drummer Zach Hill (plus alternating bassists), she’s refined her writing and structures, putting her machine gunnish hammer-on guitar heroics in more substantial frameworks. And her singing’s gotten better, though not much less aggressive, conveying her wryly witty lyrics with punchy power. This is still some wild and crazy stuff, but just enough more accessible (without compromising her sound) to be a great leap forward for her. (Steve)

So how did this become one of our most beloved records of 2008? It doesn’t hurt that the opening notes of “Time to Pretend” recall American Analog Set’s “The Postman.” Nor does it hurt that Dave Fridmann is on production duties here, lending the entirety of Oracular Spectacular a spacious, hazy air. MGMT’s debut album encompasses a wide stylistic ground: “Time to Pretend” blends an earnest fullness (think a more uptempo Mercury Rev) with sardonic lyrics about excess; the low-end-friendly “Electric Feel” is convincingly slinky; and “The Handshake” ends on a nicely anthemic, fist-pumping note. MGMT is also fond of the big finish – witness the planetarium-friendly conclusion to “Of Moons, Birds, and Monsters.” If there’s a flaw here, it may be that the album’s breadth comes at the expense of a clear, album-long progression: at times, this sounds like a solid collection of singles than a cohesive whole. But what a collection of singles. (Tobias)

Super Furry Animals' singer Gruff Rhys and hip-hop producer Bip Boom gave us one of the year’s great party records, a deliciously nostalgic 1980s rock opera/concept album recounting the life story of automobile engineer, playboy, and ultimately drug-trafficker John Delorean. The opener “Neon Theme” sets the tone for the rest of the album, with new wave synthesizers and a funky disco bass line. Also check out the hilarious “Michael Douglas,” an ode to the power-crazed fictional character Gordon Gekko, replete with sequenced beats and synthetic drum machines. In the end, Stainless Style’s ironic yet warmly affectionate musical statement about the failure of the American dream is a perfect slice of Pet Shop Boys/OMD/Duran Duran synth-pop and would be the perfect soundtrack to the VH1’s series I Love the ‘80s. (Morgane)

The thing that makes No Age’s music so exciting is there’s really no precedent for it. Sure, from a distance they look like a two-piece punk band, playing fast music to hordes of excitable kids, but look closer. The layers of atmospheric guitar noise and lopsided samples transcend punk pretty quickly, bringing to mind the more warped moments of Black Dice or My Bloody Valentine without ever really sounding like those reference points. Also it’s pretty hard to find music (punk or otherwise) so obtuse and vaguely dark that leaves such a positive feeling in it’s wake. Following last year’s Weirdo Rippers, a collection of out-of-print vinyl tracks that felt a lot more like a solid album than most of the records released last year, Nouns is the official debut long-player. Capturing the energy and impossible-to-pin down vibe of those first singles is a daunting prospect, but Nouns delivers and expands. First single “Eraser” bounces an almost neo-hippie guitar line along on a jingle-bell rhythm until everything explodes into raucous noise, gone before you realize it came. The soft and strange atmospherics of instrumentals like “Impossible Bouquet” add a sense of pacing to the record, making room for assaults like “Teen Creeps”. Easily one of the most exciting, original and oddly joyous records of the year already. Extra bonus points for great packaging with 70 pages of photos, lyrics and general weirdness. (Anna)

It’s a shame. If the year were 1978, then Todd Osborn’s first album, Osborne (why he adds the “e” to his musical persona I cannot say), would probably be a worldwide success. His beautiful warm and melodic brand of house would be at home in any disco dancefloor during the days of shag carpets and polyester. But it’s not 1978, and besides, Osborne’s brilliant self-titled record would be hard to conceive without the wonders of modern technology, so I suppose it all evens out. This deejay and producer par excellance crafts music unlike any other artist these days, from the Daft Punk-meets-Chic booty-shaker “Downtown” to the warm R&B vibe of “Ruling” to the crazy-beats syncopation of “Outta Sight.” He pays tribute to the heroes of yesteryear while looking forward all at once and never loses sight of the fact that dance music should be fun. Reportedly his admirers include Gilles Peterson to Richard James to Flying Lotus. Join the club. (James)

By expertly mixing elements of old-school punk, surf music and untamed experimental indie rock, the whippersnappers of Baltimore quartet Ponytail have managed to create something quite sonically refreshing and unique on their second album, Ice Cream Spiritual. The strongest tracks on the record “7 Souls” and “Small Wevs” bring to mind the 1980s art-rock of Bow Wow Wow and Gang of Four with Molly Siegel’s erratic yelping, upbeat drums rolls, angular guitar riffs and reverberated melodies, as “G Shock” knocks down the stunned listener with a chaotic wall of noise and ferocious rhythms. For all this sonic assault, the strength of the songwriting still manages to shine on Ice Cream Spiritual, as Ponytail capture the convulsive energy of their live shows and mix it with a funky dissonant vibe. (Morgane)

No one but Portishead could pull something like this off. Think about it; one of the three or four definitive trip-hop groups in the 90’s puts out two albums that not only set up the genre but become slow-burning classics that sculpt musical minds in all circles for years to come. They wait eleven years and put out a record that not only contends with those first classics, but branches off into sonic territory they never even touched before. If you’re expecting a rehash or even a glowing update of Dummy, this is NOT it. Instead we’re treated to eleven new scorching, inventive and outlandishly killer songs. Beth Gibbons' voice, unparalleled in haunted elegance, remains the centerpiece of the entire show, and churning, troubling, stellar production and creepy grooves seep out of every track. The aptly titled first single “Machine Gun” rides a beat so distortedly powerful the rhythm track alone makes the song. Elsewhere we find glitchy electronica, lurking yet shimmery guitars and spacey dirges that would make the Silver Apples jealous. This record is transcendent, beyond important. Fully essential. (Fred)

How can you not love Santogold? Seriously, we know how subjective music can be, but here’s an album that not only bends genres unlike just about any other we can think of, but she brings enough cheer and optimism to her music to give Cut Copy a run for their money. After cutting her teeth with the Bad Brains-influenced punk band Sniffed, here she emerges as a true solo artist, giving us a terrfic album that’s a neat hybrid of electronica, dance, world, dub, grime and punk. “L.E.S Artists” is one of the year’s most infectious singles, while “Creator” isn’t far behind. One of the year’s true anthemic party records. Irresistible! (Tammy)

It’s tempting to lump Sic Alps with the other garage bands du jour (Jay Reatard, Times New Viking, King Khan, etc.), but beware facile comparisons: the San Francisco duo of Matt Hartman and Mike Donovan have given us one of the year’s freshest (and finest) rock albums. After toiling around the Bay Area psych scene for years, the group has hit its stride with U.S. EZ, a heavy, dark and melodic record, with echo-shreiking vocals, jagged, start-stop riffs and rhythms, and thundering bass lines. The bluesy stomper “Gelly Roll Gum Drop” shows that the band can deliver some hooks, while “Mater” combines a deliriously catchy guitar riff with harmonies worthy of the Velvets. The songs are short and economical, delightful free of pretense and filler, straightforward in their exuberance and sheer joy. One of my absolute favorite albums of 2008 – check it out! (James)

One of the year’s most magical records. Harmony Korine has always relied heavily on music for sculpting the feel and identity of his movies. It’s hard to imagine the images in Gummo or Kids being half as effective without their tumultuous scores. Korine’s latest work, Mr. Lonely, is a damaged film loosely centered on the misadventures of a commune full of celebrity impersonators, and the soundtrack follows suit, hopping genres and styles through demented interludes and ambient longer songs. Spacemen 3/Spiritualized headman J. Spaceman and ethno-musicology appropriators the Sun City Girls never collaborated on any of the music for the film (which would have been a whole other experiment), but the two entities complement each other surprisingly well over the course of the soundtrack. String-heavy numbers like “Garden Walk” drift through random moments of dialogue into soft psychedelia from SSG like “3D Girls” and feedbacky tape collages of cut-up flute on “Panama 1.” A roller coaster of sprawling theatrics and calming ambiance and a listening experience equal parts disturbing and enlightening as Korine’s films. (Fred)

It’s been a while since we’ve heard from Jason Pierce’s storied Spiritualized, but he had a good excuse: a near-fatal encounter with pneumonia in 2005, which not only took its toll on him physically but artistically as well. Few artists in recent years have made out-of-body experiences as central to their work as the psych-hazed musings of Pierce and his bands Spacemen 3 and Spiritualized, but his scary flirtation with the other side has given a renewed purpose to his work. Never has he sounded this assured and focused, putting together a stunning album of plaintive, wistful songs in turn mournful and uplifting. No longer are Pierce’s tunes drowned in layers of drone and feedback; here he reveals his emotional core, confessional but never self-pitying, in an album that’s enjoyable as it is powerful. Coming on the heels of his terrific soundtrack for Harmony Korine’s Mister Lonely, Jason Pierce has shown that his best work is still ahead of him. (James)

Damn, this guy’s good. Tom Fec of the fabulous Black Moth Super Rainbow (a.k.a., Tobacco) releases his first solo album, and it’s a gas from start to finish. The music certainly dabbles in the dreamy psychedelic pop of Black Moth, but Fucked Up goes beyond in new directions, delivering some highly stylized, trippy lounge music, with heavy, fuzzy, funky beats and great grooves and riffs. And there’s no bachelor-pad cheesiness here; on Fucked Up Friends Tobacco has made a serious party record, endlessly creative in its use of sound and rhythms, with mellotrons, crackling tapes and some nostalgic nods to 70s soundtracks. He also employs the great Aesop Rock to rap on a few tracks. Fun, fun, fun. Oh, by the way: check out “Hawker Boat” and other Tobacco clips on YouTube. Delicious. (James)

TV on the Radio continue to top themselves, and they manage to do it by breaking ground every time. After the gritty, distorted, fuzzy sounds of Return to Cookie Mountain, the band defies expectations with a stripped-down, electro’d-up album. That’s not to say they’ve gotten slick; there’s still plenty of grit, but it’s buzzing, throbbing, funky grit this time out. Yes, funky – check out “Crying” and especially “Golden Age.” Other highlights include the pretty, keyboard-hooked haunters “Family Tree” and “Love Dog,” the Afro-pop-tinged “Red Dress,” and the propulsive “Dancing Choose.” The band retains its love of off-kilter hooks and knack for anthemic songs that avoid any sense of self-indulgence, if anything honed even more sharply. Scene-spotters will note guest appearances by Antibalas and Katrina Ford of Celebration. Also in a limited deluxe version with bonus tracks and remixes. (Steve)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, they sound a little bit like Animal Collective. But remember when Animal Collective came around? We were told they sounded like the Incredible String Band and Milton Nascimento. The point? No one operates in a vacuum, and the fact that this remarkable new band shares a bit of AC’s experimental acoustic musings obscures the fact that they bring a wealth of influences to their sound, from the modern classical stylings of Arvo Part and Philip Glass and Xenakis to flamenco music to sci-fi soundtracks. Led by the classically trained guitarist Anthony Lebron, this trio is nominally an acoustic act, but what a bold sound they have, with all kinds of creative percussion arrangements and harmonizing. Memorable from beginning to end, Music for Spaceships and Forests is easily one of our favorites of the year! (Tammy)

In a year of many fine psych albums, this one was near the top. Valet is the solo vehicle of Honey Owens, sometimes member of Jackie O Motherfucker, Atlas Sound and Nudge, and Naked Acid is her second collection of spectral, murky musings. The seven lengthy stretched-out pieces that make up the album flow more like a sound collage at times, with fragments of underwater vocals, washes of muted guitar fuzz, found sound percussion and the occasional Spacemen 3-style demented blues moment. The randomness of these skittering explorations gels at some point and creates a flow that makes the entire picture bigger than the individual parts, inextricable from each other. As a new generation of artists rediscover and mutate the space-rock genre, with varying degrees of success, Valet really nails it by warping the obvious influences and bringing a real darkness and paranoia to the sometimes too-dreamy shoegaze catalog. (Fred)

A band as hyped-up and blogged-out as Vampire Weekend has a lot to live up to when it comes to actually making a record. This self-titled debut sweeps the hype machine into the corner and gets down to business, eradicating anything you might have heard or imagined in favor of making a glorious, overjoyed noise. Drawing on a cannon of 80s influences (with heavy nods to Paul Simon, Peter Gabriel, Elvis Costello and the Talking Heads) for a solid foundation of upbeat, infuriatingly hooky pop songs, the band interjects Afro-pop/highlife-inspired guitar lines, cheeky referential lyrics and unexpected twists in orchestration to weave together a pristine sonic statement. The songs will stick in your head without permission, leaving impressions of ecstatic happiness and nebulous reassurance. (Fred)

This was the year of African compilations. So many great ones came out (three on Soundway alone), we could devote a whole page to them. This one was perhaps the year’s best. Strut being more focused on danceability than sociology or musical anthropology, the compilers of Nigeria 70: Lagos Jump care only about giving us great grooves, more great grooves, and even greater grooves. Even the tracks most beholden to American funk or soul have a more elliptical quality to their beats, so while there is pure highlife here (and proto-juju), there’s no pure funk. With stellar quality all around, tracks that stand out do so on context and/or oddity – the garage-rock quality of the Immortals’ “Hot Tears,” the fuzztone on the Faces’ “Tug of War” (not that a little psych was all that unusual in Nigerian rock!), the reggae lilt of Chief Checker’s “Ire Africa.” If it seems like Strut is sticking to obscurities here, well, they already covered the famous stuff seven years ago with their three-CD Nigeria ‘70 box set. When the obscurities sound this good, the strategy’s working just fine. (Steve)

The buzz was swirling about Brooklyn’s Vivian Girls months before their record hit our shelves, from the talk about their amazing live shows to the array of 7-inches that sell out here in a nanosecond and go on eBay for for triple the amount days later. Here’s their full-length debut, long out of print but rereleased courtesy of garage-punk label In the Red, and it did not disappoint. This all-girl trio is indebted to many styles and sounds: girl groups, shoegaze, garage, DIY punk, new wave – it’s all there, mixed together in a delectable stew of raw, fiery, unabashed rock. The album whizzes by at breakneck speed with no room for filler, like one of those great Ramones records from the mid-70s that clocked in 25 minutes (if that). Backlash be damned – this is music hard to dislike. It’s fun, amiable, full of hooks, good cheer and tremendous style. I can’t wait to hear what they do next. (James)

Hard to believe that not too long ago, some people were writing off the Walkmen. After some recent misfires, many wondered if the Walkmen could recapture the brilliance of 2004’s Bows & Arrows. Well, with You & Me, they have done just that. This is a spectacular return to form for this great New York City band, the driving guitars, the churning organ sounds, the energetic but understated drumming once again delivered to great effect. Hamilton Leithauser's gruff delivery continues to draw from Dylan, but he’s a compelling lead singer. With its spacious, driving and urgent songwriting, You & Me is an absolute must to own. (Joe)

No joke: This got strong consideration for Album of the Year. To be sure, it’s the best debut of 2008. I know little about this band – four dudes from Canada, they recorded it in Chad VanGaalen’s basement, that’s about it – but they’ve crafted a unique and highly appealing sound, a bit of psych and post-punk mixed with experimental electronica. Women cite This Heat as an influence, so they are immediately aces in my book, and they bring that legendary band’s aesthetic to their self-titled debut, with heavy, jagged rhythms, lo-fi pop and furious raw energy. The first few tracks give you the album’s eclectic sound. The opening one-minute track, “Cameras”, immediately brings to mind early Velvet Underground, while “Lawncare” with its layers of guitar feedback, is pure post-punk. Then there’s “Woodpine,” an instrumental track of keyboards and guitars that could pass for Christian Fennesz, followed by “Black Rice,” almost Nuggets-like with its hooks and pop sensibility. A spectacular record, one of the year’s best. (James)