As usual, apologies for the delay. This is probably one of the most diverse Top Ten lists I've ever written since beginning this adventure. I would not have expected the list to contain a rapper, a pop punk band and whatever the hell Portugal. The Man is. But here we are. We also had a tie this year. 3 and 4 below landed in the exact same spot to me but are listed consecutively for aesthetic reasons. Enjoy!
When Kevin Devine announced his plans to record and release two albums funded by Kickstarter, the usual concerns instantly popped up. Is he being too ambitious? Not with the fundraising part, of course. If there is one thing you can learn from the internet, it is to NEVER underestimate an artist's loyal fan base. We may be a generation raised on Napster, AudioGalaxy, KaZaA and now torrenting, but people are still willing to contribute to their favorite independent musicians. When Kevin Devine asked his fans for $50,000, we ended up giving him nearly $115,000. Fundraising definitely is not the issue.
But what about quality? Whenever an artist tries to put out a ton of music, it seems like the quality inexorably suffers. Look at Say Anything's In Defense of the Genre. The first disc was golden, packed to the gills with amazing songs. The second disc, minus maybe one or two tracks, was completely forgettable. With these two releases, Kevin Devine planned a completely different approach to each album. Bubblegum is a record that Kevin recorded with the God Damn Band to indulge his desire for a true "full band" release. This record, Bulldozer, was billed as the acoustic album. And much like Dashboard's The Shade of Poison Trees, I find the "acoustic" billing to be a bit misleading. Bulldozer is not just Kevin and his guitar - it features every bit as much instrumentation as its sister album. It's just used in very different ways. Kevin Devine attested to as much during an Audiotree interview where he admits that he heard Bulldozer as being more of a spare album whereas producer Rob Schnapf didn't hear it that way. The two albums rarely end up encroaching on each other but unfortunately, Bulldozer does fall victim to the same plague that rendered the second disc Say Anything's In Defense of the Genre completely irrelevant.
The record begins with the engaging coupling of "Now: Navigate!" and "Little Bulldozer". It's evident from the get go that Devine's typical lyrical brilliance has once again returned to shine. Devine's pop sensibilities are also put on display as he charges through "Now: Navigate", an upbeat musing on the complex nature of our existence and "Little Bulldozer", one of the album's catchiest tracks and also a mysterious and optimistic tune.
From there, Bulldozer hits varied points. "From Here" is an intriguing song about the horrible aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, albeit slightly esoteric. "Couldn't Be Happier" is a plodding track that just doesn't resonate with me. Both "You Brushed Her Breath Aside" and "The Worm In Every Apple" find Kevin toying with his new sound, throwing in bits of folk twang, though both end up being a tad forgettable.
"Matter of Time" makes an appearance in a re-recorded version, also featuring more of an Americana vibe this time around. You'll remember it from last year's list as it appeared on the live release Matter of Time. I still love the song for its endearing and sweet lyrics, a rarity in Devine's discography.
"She Can See Me" is the proverbial Constant between Bubblegum and Bulldozer, appearing in drastically different forms on both albums. This version ended up being my favorite of the two. Whereas Bubblegum's version was muscular, this version stays truer to the acoustic demo that was released prior to the albums and rests much more on the laurels of the chorus. Even in this version, you can hear the influence of Nirvana on the song.
The album ends on a down note with "For Eugene" and "Safe". The former is the better song while "Safe" completely misses its mark. As a song, you can't relate to it and as a closer, it leaves you feeling incomplete. All in all, Bulldozer contributes a couple more timeless tracks to Devine's discography but Bubblegum, as you'll read further up, stands tall over this unmemorable sister album.
Recommended Tracks: "She Can See Me" and "Little Bulldozer"
Recommended If You Like: Bright Eyes, Bad Books, or The Spill Canvas
There's a pretty wide variety of music on this list ranging from rap to indie to folk but nothing even comes close to being as straight forward rock and roll as this record. It is a brooding record in every sense of the word. Increasingly dark and gritty as the band tears through their collective psyche while lead singer Jon Simmons belts out lines like "Come at me horrid eyes that seep into my system / Crush all and set on fire, the things we think we're missing / Cause it's all fine, a pillow and a blanket / Take your precious time at staring at the ceiling." The post-hardcore influences are evident as Simmons masterfully transitions between his forceful singing and diaphragm bending howling.
The band never loses focus as they forge ahead through track after track of driving, melodic post-hardcore. The transitions between songs are so seamless that sometimes the tracks have a tendency to blend together. "Dirty Head" is a break in the rest of the album in the form of an all acoustic number that sounds like it was plucked off of an album by Thrice frontman Dustin Kensrue.
If you've felt a hole inside of you since the loss of Thrice (or Far or Boys Night Out), Balance and Composure will help you at least fill a little part of that.
Recommended Tracks: "Notice Me" and "Reflection"
Recommended If You Like: Boys Night Out, Far, or Thrice
In the years since frontman Matt Pryor and The Get Up Kids changed the face of emo, fusing it with energetic, midwest pop punk, Pryor has found plenty of creative outlets to stretch out his legs. His first side project was The New Amsterdams, which evolved from a solo acoustic affair to a more full-fledged folk-rock outfit. Five years into the New Ams, when The Get Up Kids officially broke up the first time, Pryor's focus shifted to his kids. It was from this adorable love that the New Ams had their alter-ego's, The Terrible Twos, who produced such classics as "We Can All Get Along With Dinosaurs" and "Great Big Poop".
It wasn't until The Get Up Kids started to discuss getting the band back together in 2008 for an anniversary reunion that Pryor finally took the plunge and released a truly solo disc, entitled Confidence Man. In the intervening four years, he's released another full length, a compilation of b-sides and rarities, and has hosted a whole ton of your favorite artists on his podcast, Nothing To Write Home About. Needless to say, it is impressive that he is still producing with the quality and quantity that he is.
The depressingly titled, and yet surprisingly upbeat, Wrist Slitter was an unexpected surprise this year. This is not your usual "solo" album, unlike Pryor's first offerings with The New Amsterdams, these tracks are fully fleshed out. With the exception of some guest vocals, Pryor handles all of the instrumentation on the album and shares production duties with Ed Rose. No time is wasted jumping in with opener "The House Hears Everything". It begins with a jazz recording (and closing track "Won't Speak To Me" ends with the end of that same jazz recording) before launching into a rapidly strummed acoustic guitar driven number that blows by. Pryor's lyrics are as strong as they ever have been and there's plenty here for both old and new fans to latch onto.
"Kinda Go To Pieces" is a sprightly, catchy tune that will leave you tapping your toe. There's a subtle sadness lurking below, poking through with lines like "Oh oh oh, give a good show \ I I I am dying inside", that adds a depth to the proceedings.
The title track is the first sign of this album's dissociative identity disorder. It's an abrupt song that clocks in at just a shade over a minute. Driven by banjos and layered call-and-response vocals, "Wrist Slitter" is so awkwardly out of place and yet it carries a certain backwoods charm. The two tracks that follow, "Words Get In The Way" and "Before My Tongue Becomes A Sword" both feature guest vocals but fall on opposite ends of the spectrum on how effective they are. "Words Get In The Way" features Steve Soboslai from the pop punk band Punchline and is a zippy (albeit slightly repetitive) number that feels right at home on the album.
"Before My Tongue Becomes A Sword", on the other hand, is such an odd track. Written by Braid's Bob Nanna and Saves The Day frontman Chris Conley, the transition to this track is jarring. It begins with Bob Nanna singing the opening - I would normally have no problem with this, being a long time Braid fan. Except that it's completely out of nowhere. The second verse finds Conley showcasing his caricatural vocals. I have never been a Saves The Day fan and his vocals are why. They are the worst kind of high and end up grating on your nerves. The only time they have been bearable is when tempered by a co-vocalist in a lower range (See: Max Bemis and their supergroup Two Tongues). Unfortunately, neither Nanna's nor Pryor's voice is enough to offset Conley's contributions. Combined with the electronic backing instrumentation that sounds plucked from a completely different album, you get a track that just falls short.
The album delivers a lovely ballad in the form of "As Perfect As We'll Ever Be" before misstepping slightly with the too-generic, adult-alternative-friendly "Foolish Kids." The last four songs find Pryor toying with tempo, trying to find the perfect ground to occupy. The album is closed out nicely by "Won't Speak To Me", which features a non-stop drum lick accompanied by a frolicsome piano.
As the album fades into the jazz recording, you're left content with what the former Get Up Kid has accomplished. His previous efforts, especially as The New Amsterdams, had a tendency to lack panache or a hook. It's really nice to hear him firing on all cylinders once again.
Recommended Tracks: "Kinda Go To Pieces" and "As Perfect As We'll Ever Be"
Recommended If You Like: The Get Up Kids, Superchunk, or Kevin Devine
Tim Kasher's debut full length, The Game of Monogamy, was a depressing and highly introspective album that found the Cursive frontman waxing philosophical on the nature of love and relationships while being backed by a symphony orchestra. On this second full length, Kasher makes the surprising move of completely ditching the orchestra and making heavy use of electronic music.
It's not really that surprising of a jump when you consider how popular and widespread synthesizers have become in modern music. And if Kasher has proven anything with his time in Cursive, it's that he can effectively incorporate just about any instrument into this kind of music. Though with as effective as the synthesizers are, one can't help but feel that this great album would have been amazing if he had instead leaned solely on standard rock and roll instrumentation. The electro-pop vibe isn't a perfect fit; it sometimes doesn't work as complimentary nor juxtaposition against Kasher's typical morose, angst-ridden lyrical backdrops. At times, the programmed backing even ends up overflowing into distraction on songs like "You Scare Me To Death".
Like an alcohol addled spider feverishly weaving an erratic web, Kasher weaves together disjointed melodies into a tapestry of self-loathing and introspection. Adult Film finds our favorite unlucky lover ruminating on everything from mortality to loyalty. Opener "American Lit" is about as perfect an introduction as there is. Vivacious and lively - Tim Kasher's lyrical acrobatics never cease to amaze. "Where's Your Heart Lie" is Kasher's honest attempt at a ballad, featuring him hammering out his musings on infidelity via an inharmonious piano melody. Tim is joined on the track by Laura Stevenson (from Laura Stevenson and the Cans) whose voice compliments Tim's mournful singing.
"Life and Limbo" and "The Willing Cuckold" elucidate the stronger dance elements now coursing through Kasher's veins. "Lay Down Your Weapons" is another slow-burner that showcases his usual immature narrative in a relationship ("Mine was a landmine / Left out in the unkempt yard / Cigarette butts stained with lip gloss / You had been away on a four day weekend / I could have picked them up / But what's the fuss?") before evolving into a surprising clarity ("The problem lies / Not in that we fight / But the weapons that we choose / So lay your weapons down").
As I mentioned before, "You Scare Me To Death" is almost completely ruined by the backing instrumentation. To tie into the ghostly theme, it is loaded with a very Halloween-esque Theremin sound. It's a shame because it ruins what would have otherwise been a powerful and heartrending track.
The album finishes strong with a triplet of very different songs. "A Looping Distress Signal" plays like an indie rock song tinged with electronics though lyrically it feels like it should have been on Cursive's The Ugly Organ. The lyrics bound up through the meta-barrier and tackle the songwriting process once again, which makes this song feel like the red headed stepchild of the album. "A Lullaby, Sort Of" is a sentimental closer that confronts mortality and family head-on.
But third-to-last song "A Raincloud Is A Raincloud" is what really sums up the album to me. Buried beneath the overwhelming layer of bouncy and upbeat instrumentation, the song carries the weight of a sad bastard that has spent an entire career (lifetime?) finding the worst in situations. As he confesses "Waiting for my ship to come / I'm afraid it may have sunk", you're hit by a pang of sadness. It's not until the last line that the dance and bravado begins to make sense, where after all of his dwelling on the downsides, he sticks himself with the most important question, "What if rain clouds have silver linings?"
Recommended Tracks: "American Lit" and "Lay Down Your Weapons"
Recommended If You Like: Cursive, The Good Life or The Faint
Having not listened to Eminem since high school when the first Marshall Mathers LP came out, I was unaware that Slim Shady had taken a vacation and that it was just Eminem putting out all of those albums. But now, with this sequel 13 years after the original, Shady's back.
Some things have changed for Eminem. Modern hip hop/rap is dependent on having a hook, often sung by a woman, and most of the tracks on this album follow suit. Running time is also adapting. Since Death Cab decided that that an eight and a half minute song would be a perfect lead single and Justin Timberlake said "If Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin can do 10-minute songs and Queen can do 10-minute songs then why can't we? We'll figure out the radio edits later.", it seems that modern music is moving in that direction. The shortest song on this record is still nearly 4 minutes song.
Some things have not changed for Em. His frequent use of gay slurs and rampant homophobia still mar small parts of the album. But when you take in the album as whole, you get the impression that he knows exactly what he's doing. I doubt Marshall Mathers is really homophobic at all, but he knows controversy sells and he knows how to insult other rappers. With his appearances on SNL, ESPN and Jimmy Kimmel, Eminem has really transcended himself with humor.
All of that would be irrelevant if this album wasn't so god damn good. From the uncharacteristically rock oriented (and infinitely catchy) lead single "Berzerk" to the almost completely sung "Stronger Than I Was", LP 2 features a diverse offering of amazing songs. A familiarity with the first LP will allow you to understand some of the inside references but is not at all necessary to enjoy this album.
Em is as irreverent as he has always been and even at the more mellow points, he sounds fired up beyond belief. The album indulges his ego, as on display in the song "Rap God", a blistering track with a verse featuring 97 words in 15 seconds. Do the math, I'll wait... (it averages out to 6.5 words per second). But also tempers his arrogance with remarkable introspection and maturity. On songs like "Brainless", he talks about being bullied and how learning to rap was the only thing that kept him from being a psychopath and a good-for-nothing bum. On "So Far...", he spits out "They call me classless, I heard that, I second and third that \ Don't know what the fuck I would doing if it weren't rap \ Probably be a giant turd-sack." He also points out the hypocrisy in his stance on women considering that he'd kill someone if they ever talked about his daughter the same way.
Various artists and songs are sampled throughout the album, ranging from the Beastie Boys to Billy Squier to The Zombies ("Time of the Season" is sampled quite effectively on "Rhyme or Reason"). The album even ventures off the beaten path with "Stronger Than I Was", a song that features very little rapping and focuses on Eminem's singing. Production is handled quite well, for the most part. I am still not a fan of Rick Rubin's production style (he's on the wrong side of the Loudness War) and the songs he produced are among my least favorite on the album. There is also an annoying pattern on this album of having the beat drop out right after a line is delivered, to emphasize the delivery. It's an unnecessary tic that distracts more than it works. It is even more unnecessary when you come to understand Eminem's technical prowess. There is a reason that a scrawny white kid has been able to earn and keep the respect of the entire rap/hip hop community and still be considered one of the all time greats.
LP 2 hits its emotional climax on the penultimate track "Headlights", which features vocals from fun. frontman Nate Ruess. It's a combination that doesn't seem like it would work and yet it ends up producing the most touching piece of music Em has ever composed. His near-death from an overdose prior to his last album really pushed him towards understanding his mom's addiction. "Headlights" finds him remorseful over the way he treated her. It is a powerful testament to how much he has grown as a human being. Let's not forget that Marshall Mathers is now 41, though it's easy to forget because good white don't crack.
The last endearing part about this album is how Mathers sneaks in his geekiness. Name dropping Forgetting Sarah Marshall brings a smile to my face every time. Reigning at the top of the rap game while name dropping Asgard and Thor can't be easy. Doubly so when he raps lines about Star Wars and even throws in a verse rapped in Yoda's voice.
Recommended Tracks: "Headlights (feat. Nate Ruess) " and "Brainless"
Recommended If You Like: Dr. Dre, Mindless Self Indulgence, or D12
When talking about Into It. Over It.'s new album, one has to inevitably bring up Mike Kinsella, of Owen, American Football, Owls, Cap'n Jazz, etc. The similarities in tone between mastermind Evan Weiss' band Into It. Over It. and Kinsella's discography as Owen are undeniable. Their voices even seem to occupy the same octaval territory. It is a comparison made all the more relevant by Kinsella and Weiss joining forces to make music as Their/They're/There (see Top EP's).
Please bear with me through another major digression - I'd argue that it is relevant for context. Owen's music played an integral part in my musical development, granting me an avenue into highly introspective acoustic indie rock (emo, if you're so willing) before I'd ever heard of Dashboard Confessional. Initially, Kinsella's lyrics tackled the usual fare, including insecurity, loneliness, and family. As time went on, the albums seemed to vary less and less and grow increasingly more depressing. 2013's L'Ami du Peuple saw Mike Kinsella trying to incorporate assorted instrumentation but ultimately creating another plodding release that is so depressing that I am surprised he didn't fight Matt Pryor for his album title of Wrist Slitter.
What keeps you listening to music from your younger days is that the music grows with you. It feels like Kinsella's music as Owen has never done that. Sure, the lyrics have evolved to now reference his wife and children but it's all painted in such a bleak light. Lines like "Is this really all there is? / Cough syrup to sleep / 'Til an alarm clock reminds us to breath" are just a little too dark. Yes, music should be relatable, to some degree. But it should also be some form of escapism and not just reinforcing never-ending dread. The write up for his new album included lines like "Emphasis on the rock." and "And now, he expands his repertoire as a solo songwriter to include a touch of female vocals, pounding drums, and even dueling electric guitar lines that are the closest thing he’s done in tribute to his 80s hair metal obsession."
With all of that said, Into It. Over It.'s new album Intersections feels like the album that Owen should have eventually evolved into. It is infinitely more complex, more infectious, more melodic and, well, more ROCK.
While other bands whittle away with soft-spun and delicate indie, Evan Weiss is diving headlong into the fray. He doesn't shy away from where the songs take him, ranging from acoustic driven numbers like "Your Antique Organ" to rollicking, bouncy numbers like "Spinning Thread" that are driven by moving guitar lines and a thick bass line. There are even splashes of piano spread throughout the album, provided by producer Brian Deck. Aside from the piano and some help with the percussion, Weiss follows Kinsella's footsteps and provides the rest of the instrumentation that you hear on the album.
This is one of those records that encapsulates a season - in this case, autumn. Lyrically, Weiss ponders on everything from relationships to school shootings to the death of his mother (the absolutely heart breaking "No Amount of Sound"). There is an unexplainable quality to this record, a certain "je ne sais quoi" (yeah, I went there). It sounds familiar to me, like the records of yesteryear that I grew up with. But at the same time, it is far more mature and calls to me in a way that is nearly unexplainable.
Recommended Tracks: "Obsessive Compulsive Distraction" and "Contractual Obligation"
Recommended If You Like: Owen, Death Cab For Cutie or Dashboard Confessional
No matter where my musical development has gone over the years, it is no secret that I began with pop punk. Whether it began with The Ataris' Blue Skies or New Found Glory's Nothing Gold Can Stay is a distinction lost to time. I tried to stay with both bands as long as I could. Kris Roe didn't make it easy for me as the rest of the original members left the band and he tried to turn The Ataris into My Bloody Valentine for the subpar Welcome The Night. In the wake of that, fans have waited years upon years for the supposed follow-up, The Graveyard of the Atlantic.
New Found Glory has been more successful, coming to be royalty in the modern pop punk scene. 2006 saw the release of Coming Home, a nearly perfect record that encapsulated how much they had grown as a band. Jordan's voice was less nasally and the band as a whole displayed more mastery over their art form. When they released "Not Without A Fight" in 2009, I suddenly wasn't feeling as enraptured as I once was. The band had taken a step backward towards basic pop punk, only retaining a small semblance of the maturity and mellowness that Coming Home had brought.
By 2011's Radiosurgery, I kind of assumed that pop punk was dead to me, no matter if New Found Glory was headlining a "Pop Punk's Not Dead!" tour. This was an album they had written to be in the vein of Green Day or The Ramones. In that regard, mission successful; the lyrics were a large leap backwards to the point of being disingenuous. I could no longer accept a band that was over 30 singing a song like "Summer Fling, Don't Mean A Thing" with the chorus of "But when you need a boy around you / Just for the summer / Don't come knocking on my door."
Sure, there were bands that would come along and show me a spark of how pop punk could be great once again. Chiefly among them was Man Overboard. If you're into pop punk, I would recommend checking them out. They released an album this year entitled Heart Attack. Unfortunately, Man Overboard just sounds too much... like pop punk. So I can't officially sign the death certificate for pop punk but it is clear that I've certainly grown out of it.
With all that said, I love The Wonder Years so much. I can honestly say that I am not aware of any other band in the pop punk scene that could create an album quite so good. Listening to this album is like getting that first gasping breath of cool, fresh air after being swallowed in a stinky, hot mosh pit for hours. Lead singer Dan "Soupy" Campbell has such a raw voice that, combined with the intricate and multifaceted musical layers, makes for an album that is unmistakably unique.
Campbell has an undeniable way with words. Much like Kevin Smith's cinematic View Askewniverse, the band's discography exists within its own interconnected world. Every song ties back to another, weaving together a patchwork quilt of stories, experiences and emotions. Whereas New Found Glory is singing lines like "I can't get your face out of my head / It makes my brain hurt / I need radiosurgery, radiosurgery" off of the title track to Radiosurgery, The Wonder Years is pulling off "And I watched the storms light up the clouds / They hung like paper lanterns / To guide the way back toward your house." This band is what you wish every pop punk band would mature into. They are part of a new breed of hyper-literate bands that are educated and well-spoken.
Rather than focusing on girls and love, The Greatest Generation tackles complex subjects such as growing up in a broken home, fighting depression that runs in your family, being socially awkward and worrying about a family member dying in the hospital. The album's only barely-there stumble is "The Bastards, The Vultures, The Wolves", a punk rock song that blows by at breakneck speeds without any real hook to it. It's the only time that the excellent production by Steve Evetts (a veteran producer known more for his work in the metal scene) muddies up a song. "The Devil In My Bloodstream" is a standout track featuring Laura Stevenson (who also featured on Tim Kasher's album this year). It begins with softly sung verses being led by the piano into a massive chorus.
"I Just Want To Sell Out My Funeral" stands tall alongside Frank Turner's "Broken Piano" as one of the greatest closing tracks of the year. In seven and a half minutes, The Wonder Years incorporates elements and themes from the rest of the songs and sums up the entire experience of The Greatest Generation and of life itself. And as the album rings out its final lyrics: "We all want to be great men and there's nothing romantic about it. / I just want to know that I did all I could with what I was given", you are left completely satiated.
Recommended Tracks: "There, There" and "The Devil In My Bloodstream"
Recommended If You Like: New Found Glory, Man Overboard, or Fireworks
Wow. Where in the hell did this album come from? Portugal. The Man was a band that I had heard of but never listened to. When I saw they had come out with a new album entitled "Evil Friends", I procured it and figured I'd give it a good listen. I burned it to a disc with a bunch of other new releases and made my way through slowly. But this album was a showstopper.
Like fun. before them, Portugal. The Man (from here on, PTM) decided to skip the usual music producers and find an outsider. This led them to collaborate with Danger Mouse, who you may know as being one half of Gnarls Barkley and a producer who was worked with Beck, The Black Keys, Gorillaz, and Frank Ocean. And like fun. before them, the resulting album is just stellar.
There are a lot of things to notice when you press play on Evil Friends. The music has a vintage quality to it, like classic rock mixed with some kind of 70's groove/funk (though that doesn't even come close to explaining it). Lead singer John Gourley has an impressive falsetto that is used to such a great effect that it is sure to take a place in the great gender confusions of history (See also: Davey Havok of AFI, Brody Dalle from The Distillers). And if you're astute enough, you may notice the theme that runs throughout the album. I'll admit that I failed to hear the shared lyrics that pop up in a couple of the songs on my first listen through.
The album begins with a bit of a slow start with the lingering "Plastic Soldiers". It might seem like an inauspicious start but as the acoustic guitar bleeds into the percussive backbeat and distorted synth sounds and the entire band joins in on the refrain of "The rest of us will live and die / Like plastic soldiers / Only growing older", it's hard to deny the appeal.
The band wastes no time before launching into "Creep In A T-Shirt", a spirited track that pulls no punches and only pauses to incorporate some of the floating lyrics from throughout the album ("It's not because the light here is brighter / And it's not that I'm evil, I just don't like to pretend /
That I could ever be your friend.") The title track picks right up with the same theme, incorporating those lyrics into a song that dilly-dallies with its first minute before crescendoing into hand-claps and na-na-na's.
"Modern Jesus" might just be the Song of the Year for me. Be forewarned, I think meth is a little less addictive than this song. It's essentially an atheistic anthem (as is much of the album) that rallies against organized religion and god. "Modern Jesus" and "Hip Hop Kids" are the 1-2 punches of protest against the norm, with the latter being PTM's statement that they don't give a shit what anyone thinks about them.
The midpoint of the album "Atomic Man" is one of the only weak points on the entire album. It's an entirely too repetitive track that fails to make its point. Thankfully, Evil Friends quickly recovers with "Sea of Air", a plucky sing-a-long and "Waves", a sweeping, piano-driven anti-war tune. The remaining four tracks are all outstanding. "Holy Roller (Hallelujah)" is one of my favorites off of the album; it's a lively track with a monster hook. As for "Purple Yellow Red And Blue", well, you'll know when you hear it.
The album closes out beautifully with "Smile". It's during this song that the theme of the album really coalesces. "I don't need to talk about the world, alright? / I just want to sleep with a smile tonight / And I don't want to talk about the hungry people / People down and out." When singer John Gourley sings "I just want to be evil", he isn't talking about being malevolent. Rather than pretending to be someone's friend or pretending to be concerned about all of the terrible things happening in the world, he just wants to be happy in his own life. It's only evil by the standards of those people who are so morally upright that they feel it necessary to force their false sense of morality onto those around them. By the end of "Smile", Gourley brings the lyrics about plastic soldiers back into the theme. In the beginning, they were "plastic soldiers / only growing older." But by the time we have reached the acme of the album, he has learned to live for himself and refuses to dwell on everyone else's tragedies, becoming "plastic soldiers / never growing older."
Recommended Tracks: "Modern Jesus" and "Holy Roller (Hallelujah)"
Recommended If You Like: Circa Survive, Foster The People, or The Black Keys
Years ago, in my review for Kevin Devine's 2011 release Between The Concrete & Clouds, I complained about how "mellow and complacent these songs seem." I longed for the dignified anger of songs like "Another Bag of Bones", the playfulness of songs like "Just Stay", or even the youthful vigor of songs like "Cotton Crush".
I'm not so sure about the playfulness but on Bubblegum, Kevin Devine has certainly rediscovered his anger and vigor. Eschewing his softer influences like Elliott Smith, Devine has reached into a different realm, plucking inspiration from bands like Nirvana and the Pixies. The God Damn Band joins him on this record, providing the concrete foundation necessary for each song to stand tall.
The opening triplet of "Nobel Prize", "Private First Class" and "Fiscal Cliff" kicks off the record at breakneck speeds. The first note out of your speakers draws the instant distinction between Bubblegum and Bulldozer, as well as the rest of Kevin's discography. Bubblegum feels like his ode to punk rock, loaded with distortion, fuzzy guitars and noisy vocals. And much like punk rock, Devine doesn't shy away from skewering the political nonsense going on in the world.
"Nobel Prize" blazes by as it takes its shots at the drone program and foreign policy. It seems like the God Damn Band (GDB) finally figured out how to inject guitar solos without moving things into the unnecessary realm of musical masturbation. As you might guess, "Private First Class" is a song about Bradley (now Chelsea) Manning's bravery in exposing the horrible things going on overseas. It's actually a poppy tune whose upbeat tone belies the content. "Fiscal Cliff" closes off the roaring opening and it is probably my favorite song off of the entire album. It strays so far from the kind of music that Kevin has produced in the past and yet it is crafted so perfectly. The music and instrumentation sounds like the bastard child of a Southern California punk band and a surf band. Vocally, Devine blends infectious melodies with lyrics that are almost spoken (and at times, whispered) as it is when he drives home the verse "But talkin' shit about the '1%' / Well, that isn't gonna get you anything / It's another slogan - it's been co-opted! / It's just a clever bit of marketing."
After that, the album slows down from its full sprint to catch its breath. "I Can't Believe You" is a mid-tempo pseudo-ballad that blends the best of Devine's older sound with his new direction and it flows seamlessly into the brooding and haunting "Redbird". "Redbird" is a nearly seven minute epic that begins like a solitary lit match before growing voraciously into a roaring house fire. It is a brutal opus that steeps itself in the symbolism and suffering of water boarding and torture, approaching it from both sides of the coin.
No time is wasted lunging back into the buzz, with the distortion heavy "Bloodhound" and the abstruse (and seemingly very personal) title track, which saves itself from its own esoteric demise with a monstrous hook that ranks right up there with The Candy Man's right hand. Kevin tries his hand at a song ("Sick of Words") expressing some of the discontent of being an artist without it sliding into the dark depression of similar songs from Mike Kinsella (Owen) or Tim Kasher (Cursive).
Jesse Lacey (of Brand New fame) handles production on the album and his influence bleeds through at multiple points, as with the instrumental transition "Capybara", a song that surely counts Brand New's "Welcome To Bangkok" and "Untitled" (both off of 2006's The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me) as its spiritual siblings.
As I mentioned in my review for Bulldozer, "She Can See Me" is the one song that ended up on both albums. The version that appears on this album is very much amped up and brawny, making it fall closer to Nirvana on the sonic spectrum, which is where Devine undoubtedly drew influence. It's still a great song, even if I prefer the Bulldozer version. Penultimate track "Somewhere Unoccupied" is probably the most straight-forward rock song on the record.
Like Dennis Rodman in a crowd of Koreans, the closer "I Don't Care About Your Band" sticks out like a sore thumb. It is the only real example between both albums where they encroach on each other's sound. This track really feels like it should have been on Bulldozer. Aside from that, it's a slow song that doesn't build into anything. It's a diffident ending to an otherwise boisterous effort.
Bubblegum is a perfect snapshot of an artist who has complete confidence in his art form. Rather than turning in another "typical" album, Kevin walks a path that he hasn't traveled before as a solo artist. And the result is simply stunning.
Recommended Tracks: "Fiscal Cliff" and "Redbird"
Recommended If You Like: Brand New, Nirvana or The Pixies
Despite coming out towards the beginning of 2013, it was clear that nothing was going to be able to relieve Tape Deck Heart of its Album of the Year crown. Turner's last full length, England Keep My Bones, was an admirable and mostly enjoyable album, though it was dripping with way too much national pride. I love England as much as the next red-blooded American but relating to the English Channel, growing up on an island and living in Wessex was a bit much to ask of the average listener.
And this year came Tape Deck Heart. Without compromising Turner's sound, Tape Deck Heart takes everything that was great about the rest of his discography and tunes it up. The end result is more refined, introspective and focused than I could have possibly imagined. At its heart, the music is still Frank Turner and his acoustic guitar but on this release, Turner finds himself leaning on the brilliant Matt Nasir to provide additional instrumentation ranging from the accordion to a wurlitzer to a mandolin.
The opening salvo of "Recovery" and "Losing Days" (the first and third singles, respectively) took a bit to grow on me but once they began growing, they were like an unstoppable cordyceps fungus burrowing itself into my brain. They represent the best of Frank Turner's lively and passionate brand of folk punk while embodying a sense of inward contemplation that was almost completely absent on England Keep My Bones.
Turner turns the tempo down a skosh with "The Way I Tend To Be", an excellent second single that really showcases how much Frank has matured and evolved musically since his days fronting post-hardcore act Million Dead. The song builds into a beautiful pinnacle as Turner belts out "You stood apart in my calloused heart / and you taught me and here's what I learned / That love is about the changes you make and not just three small words" right before delivering a softly sung bridge that stops you in your tracks.
Not content with letting you passively absorb the album, "Plain Sailing Weather" picks up at a rapid clip with the self-deprecating sing-a-long chorus of "Just give me one fine day of plain sailing weather / And I can fuck up anything, anything. / It was a wonderful life when we were together / And now I've fucked up every little goddamn thing." Frank's lyrical prowess is really on display as he writes about "loss and failure in relationships" and "what happens when something that was supposed to be timeless runs out of time." Tape Deck Heart is absolutely a break-up album, written and recorded during the disintegration of Turner's long term love.
"Good & Gone" is a slow-spun ballad about searching for true happiness and damning Hollywood and rock stars for misleading us into believing that it would be easy. He follows up it up with "Tell Tale Signs", an acoustic driven number that is even slower. This is a threadbare song that feels obscenely intimate. It is heart-wrenching to listen to and so powerful.
"Four Simple Words" is a proper kick off to the second half of the album. As Turner himself admits, this track was intended as a Queen homage. He sums up the song perfect, "I tell people it's about dancing but it's really a song about punk rock and the pleasantly surprising revelation that, at 31, my ethics and approach to music are the same as when I was 15." This is simply one of the most fun and punk rock songs that Frank Turner has ever released as a solo artist. It might be the pariah of the album but it is one hell of a midway mile marker.
The album continues its crescendo with "Polaroid Picture", a polished lament at losing one's youth and watching everything change. It's around this point that you come to realize that every single track on this album feels like a complete picture, perfectly designed and constructed. The production is top notch and Turner's ability to find the most infectious melodies is astounding. Producer Rich Costey really challenged the band (at one point Frank had to do 42 vocal takes because Costey knew there was something there) and the end result proudly bears all of that hard work.
The album's upward ascent is stopped completely by Track 9. "The Fisher King Blues" is a dud of a song. It's like being presented with the 64 Crayola pack filled with all of these amazing new colors, neons, scented crayons (!) and everything you could possibly want. Think of the art you can create! And then there's "The Fisher King Blues", the dull gray crayon that isn't really good for anything. It might have been pretty once. Maybe it just looks bad because it is surrounded by greatness. Who knows? But you know what makes the whole thing so bad? The Deluxe Edition has six bonus tracks and five of them are simply phenomenal.
Turner approaches the topic himself, "Track listing an album is a fine art, and usually a pretty agonising process. I’m glad I've had the opportunity to do the extended version for this one – all these songs belong together. That said, I think an album is a piece of art in its own right and can be too long, so it’s worth making the twelve-track definitive version. Choosing what makes it and what doesn’t is agonising, though." Unfortunately, I wish he'd have left this song off. "We Shall Not Overcome", one of the bonus tracks, is an action packed adventure that is marvelous and would have fit like a proverbial glove. The last half of the album would have had a much better flow as well. However, near perfection is still better than being far from it.
As if to rub salt in your wounds, Turner delivers the sleepy and heartbreaking "Anymore", another song that hurts your soul to listen to. I don't mind some suffering in my art, but this is like being hit in the face with a cactus and then having a super soaker full of lemon juice sprayed on you. Your heartstrings aren't tugged so much as ripped from your core. You can hear his deep breath in at the beginning of the recording, as if trying to muster the strength to go on.
Mercifully, a pounding piano line drives "Oh Brother" to a marching cadence. This penultimate song soon climaxes into its refrain "Time it will change us but don't you forget / You are the only brother I've got" before seamlessly fading into the opening distortion of beautiful and discordant closer, "Broken Piano".
This is a song that didn't really hit me at first. You wonder why he's singing some of the lines with a forcibly strained falsetto. And then you sit down and truly listen. The way he weaves the minor melodies into the lyrics, painting a sorrowful picture of longing for someone, is masterfully done. "I found the hulk, the rusting bulk / Of a shattered old piano. / Someone had torn out some of the keys / With cruel care, not thoughtlessly, / In such a way that one could only play / Minor melodies."
The accompaniment is intentionally sparse. Unlike the other songs on the album, all densely populated and filled out with tambourines and mellotrons, this closing track finds Turner crooning alongside a piano and backing distortion. It's not until halfway through that the song adds another layer with a huge, reverberant drum beat. Everything else dissolves away as the drums carry the record to its conclusion.
All in all, Tape Deck Heart is one of the most perfect break-up albums ever crafted. Just push play and take it all in.
Recommended Tracks: "Four Simple Words" and "Polaroid Picture"
Recommended If You Like: Lucero, The Gaslight Anthem, or Biffy Clyro
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