A 2005 best-of list like all others

After promising myself that I wouldn't do a best-of 2005 list (and after giving up my Best-Of lists in 2000), I relented and threw one together. It seemed like a fun thing to do, and besides, I didn't really have anything else to write about.

One of the main reasons that I wasn't going to do one is because my list isn't much different than most every other music blogger or indie site's list. But in a way, that kind of made it more intriguing. We're in a time where, theoretically, we should be discovering all sorts of different artists, and that everyone's lists should almost be wholly unique. But instead, we have a world where hype and advance word have become even more important. It's easy to overlook one post on one blog about one band, but if all of the blogs are talking about it, you tend to take notice. In other words, in a world where there's so many voices, it seems like it's gotten even harder for a single voice to stand out.

Don't get me wrong: I don't think it's a bad thing at all. I actually like the NME-style hype machine that it's created. The last couple of years have felt really exciting in a lot of ways. While there's lots of different kinds of music to be taken in, it seems as though there's more scenes and styles popping up. And there's certainly a lot more that's being talked about.

It also seemed a little silly to compile a list of my favorite albums when I very rarely listened to a full album all the way through. I lived in the playlist world this year and only heard these albums from beginning to end a couple of times each. But I also realized that my lack of focus has always meant that I rarely listen to full albums from beginning to end, whether it was scrounging through my box of cassettes in high school or jumping from CD to CD to hear that one song, I've always been a scattered listener. It's just that now, it's a lot easier to shuffle digitally instead of dig in a box.

Albums are collections of songs, and the larger number of great songs, the better the album, right? With that in mind, here they are:

REID'S ALBUM OF THE YEAR AWARDS (R.A.Y.A.s) - 2005

1. LCD Soundsystem, LCD Soundsystem
In the jukebox: "Tribulations"
When I first got this album, I thought was pretty good. It was fun enough, well-recorded, good beats. But that was before I saw LCD Soundsystem at the 9:30 in June, and it all made sense after that. I realized that the vocals weren't monotone, but dual-tone: James Murphy would simply raise the intensity of the vocals, and it would work every time. I found that the music-geek arrangements made for some of the most exciting "here's where the _____ comes in" listening of all time. And they were some slamming beats. After that show, I craved this album on a daily basis, and found that songs like "Yeah" and "Beat Surrender" got me so worked up that it was almost scary. It's the perfect sound, and it sounded perfect so many days of 2005. The easy #1 choice.

By the way, I should also mention that, while I first dismissed Pitchfork's review as snobby, in that they rated the singles compliation disc higher than the new disc, I have to agree now. I really like the style-jumping of the first disc, but it's the pure dance-punk songs of the second disc that blow my mind.

2. Sufjan Stevens, Illinois
In the jukebox: "Chicago"
So there it is: the album that's on everybody's list, and almost always at the top. Since the release of this album, I've found that Sufjan Stevens is more polarizing than you think he would be. A lot of people love his stuff, but a lot of people just don't like him at all. The insane amount of love that he's getting is naturally going to raise the amount of expection of new listeners to impossible-to-meet levels, but I think that he just sounds too precious, too showtune-y, too third-grade-music -class, too sad, too Christian, too too. I suppose I can understand that.

But there are also a lot of people like me: folks who liked Michigan and Seven Swans, but were amazed at how much of a leap he took with this album. Even with all the dinky little interludes cluttering up the disc, it seemed like every listen presented a new amazing song. Months after the disc was released, I was still finding songs I love, wondering why I hadn't heard its brilliance every other time I'd listened to it.

It's Sufjan's patriotism and faith that raised him and his music to lofty heights with me. In spite of the feelings among so many music geeks that Christianity could only be bad and that pride in America is only arrogance, Sufjan Stevens openly sings about both, criticizing where it needs to be, but also finding the pride and value. In this way, it almost sounds like protest music, and the fact that it's attached to music that's impossibly beautiful and brilliantly arranged is exactly why this album is all over everyone's year-end list.

3. M.I.A., Arular
In the jukebox: "Fire Fire"
This past spring, as this album was destroying my ears with repeated plays in my darkened apartment, I never could have thought that anything could top it. There wasn't a bad song on the album (though I usually skip over "Sunshowers") and the beats were as strong and exciting as you could find anywhere else. It seemed revelatory.

What happened between then and now? Mostly time. It's not that I got sick of the album; it still sounds amazing. But she wasn't that great live (and was blown away by LCD Soundsystem), and, while I don't have a problem with songs being in commercials, that car commercial that used "Galang" was really bad. It's unfortunate that those two things dropped my feelings about this albums a bit, but even so, it's a fantastic album and even listening to it now, it still sounds fresh and exciting. I have no idea how she'll follow this up, but I can't wait to hear it.

4. The Decemberists, Picaresque
In the jukebox: "On The Bus Mall"
One of the most annoying trends of the last couple of years is the insistence of a lot of singers to sing with massively affected voices. They'll make up their own word pronunciations, sing as nasaly and childlike as possible, and just generally aim for vocals that are, to put it charitably, challenging. Cynically, I wonder if maybe it's a deliberate attempt to avoid the dreaded "soccer mom" fanbase, to sabotage songs that would otherwise appeal to a large fanbase by making you sit through near-torturous vocals to get to an otherwise beautiful song.

While Colin Meloy's vocals aren't as affected as Devendra Banhardt's (tolerable) or Coco Rosie's (painful), they were still the main reason I never gave the Decemberists much of a chance. But this album (along with Joanna Newsom's The Milk-Eyed Mender last year) was one whose songs were so well-crafted, so literate, so beautiful that no voice could ruin them. I'd still like to hear the trend swing back to sincere, clearly sung vocals, but as long as the songs are this good, it doesn't really matter.

5. Spoon, Gimme Fiction
In the jukebox: "The Beast And Dragon, Adored"
Before this album came out, I didn't really get the fuss over Spoon. I kept hearing talk about how they sounded like big Prince fans and that they combined soul and indierock, but all I could hear in their music was the indierock part, and it never seemed that interesting or unique to me.

At this point, you may be asking the same question that I'm asking myself: "Well, then why did you buy the album?" I have no idea, but I did, and I loved it. There's plenty of Prince going on with this record, but more than that, it's some of the most original, beautiful production I've ever heard: a bold room sound that never sounds lo-fi, and perfect piano parts that act almost as bass. Stunning.

6. Maximo Park, A Certain Trigger
In the jukebox: "Going Missing"
In an amazing feat, Maximo Park managed to make an album that was both dumb fun and brilliantly complex. The crunchy guitars and bubblegum hooks are the sorts of things that normally spell out "guilty pleasure", but when the immediate catchiness starts wearing off, what's left is subtlely complex arrangements that extend the life of A Certain Trigger well beyond the expiration date of Maximo Park's refried-Britpunk contemporaries. This is a record that should be selling hundreds of thousands, but it's all too easy to write off as unoriginal and brainless, though it's neither. It's a shame.

7. The Lucksmiths, Warmer Corners
In the jukebox: "Now I'm Even Further Away"
A lot of the early reviews of the Sufjan Stevens album had the criticism that he was dangerously close to repeating himself. It drove me nuts. After all, don't you listen to a band because you like their sound? It's true that the novelty can wear off after a while, but as long as the songs are good, who cares if it sounds the same as the stuff that came before it?

The Lucksmiths have been doing pretty much the same thing over their entire careers, and I've never gotten tired of it. Their arrangements have gotten a little more complex and the production has been fleshed out with strings and horns, but the sound is the same: clever, sweet pop songs. Amazingly, this far into their career, they can still turn out songs whose quality is immediately exciting, and they can still push all the same buttons and make it sound like a different machine altogether. Long live the Lucksmiths.

HONORABLE MENTION

Nouvelle Vague, Nouvelle Vague...for taking a novelty album and making it brilliant.

Sigur Ros, Takk...for bringing out even more beauty in their music.

The New Pornographers, Twin Cinema...because "Carl just does not write a bad song." Amen.

---

If anyone feels like chiming in with their 2005 loves, the comments are waiting anxiously. The 2005 mix, which I feel is a better gauge of my musical year, will be up next week.