Top 25 Albums Of The Decade (#17)

17) DEERHUNTER – Microcastle (2008)

When I started working on this list, I told myself that I would refrain from three things: 1) mentioning too many bands, especially those that 99% of the population has never heard of; 2) letting my sentences become too complex and cloying; 3) commenting on the artists’ physical appearances. Since I have already failed at #1 and #2 (I mentioned thirteen different bands in the previous write-up, and I just used the word “cloying” immediately preceding a semicolon), so I might as well fail completely and come right out with it: Bradford Cox is ugly. I mean, he even gives Devin Townsend a run for his money. He’s so strange looking that when he laments that “Nothing Ever Happened” to him, we believe it. But can you really consider agoraphobia a weakness for him?—this skeletal sufferer of Marfan’s syndrome who classifies himself as a bisexual because neither males nor females want to be seen with him in public. Especially when he has put out three album-length releases in the course of the past year, along with a few other EPs that I’m too lazy to look up on Wikipedia right now. Underproduced in all the right places, Microcastle is exactly what it would seem like: a quantum realm into which one can implode, invisible to the naked eye and completely barricaded from the outside world. Distant, airy vocals merge with echoing guitars, spacious (yet concise) arrangements, requisite eeriness, 23% impenetrability and more tentacles in more pies than the Baltic kraken. Years ago I had a dream in which I was walking down a lonesome highway at night and came across a hatch in the ground. The hatch opened onto a ladder, which descended half a mile into the earth and eventually led to a vast subterrenean lake in the midst of what looked to be an abandoned nuclear testing facility. What would this dream be entitled, if dreams required labels? “Twilight At Carbon Lake,” obviously! Which begs the question: did Bradford Cox really steal his way into my dreams just to get lyric material? If he’s resorting to such tactics, then what can I do—tell him that he needs to get out more? No, that ugly bastard is welcome to pillage my dreams any time he wants. Now here’s to hoping that he never reads this review.

Top 25 Albums Of The Decade (#18)

18) DUNGEN – Ta Det Lugnt (2004)

I have a theory that, in mid-to-late 2003, a major temporal shift occurred that sent music thirty years back in time. This went pretty much unnoticed in America, where the throwback was taking a more mainstream route: the White Stripes, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the Decemberists. In other words, irony was in, and whether you were ripping off The Velvet Underground or Patti Smith or The Pogues, there was always a feeling of displacement—that this was somehow “the music of our generation” even though it wasn’t much more than tweaking sounds that had already been discovered (and I like those bands). Meanwhile, in other parts of the world—in Japan, in Germany, in Sweden—there was no need for this winking sense of entitlement. And although I’m pretty sure that no one was doing anything as heavy as Colour Haze back in ‘73, all three of these albums (#18-20) could probably be thrown onto a playlist alongside vintage psychedelic obscurites and no one at the party would notice. Dungen, however, seem to feel the most at ease with their sound, refusing to wear their influences on their sleeves—“Listen to this song that sounds just like Captain Beyond!*”—or impress us with their playing ability. Nor are they afraid to get everybody grooving. Just check out “Du E För Fin För Mig,” which moves from a schmaltzy Viking-metal-type verse/chorus harmonies, to a “Give Peace A Chance” acoustic guitar stomp, to the same rhythmic frenzy as the Stone Roses’ “I Am The Resurrection.” Simply put: no clutter, no pretension, no ironic posing. Some believe that the Scandinavian black metal scene exploded in the early nineties because the kids didn’t realize that Venom were joking. Similarly, Ta Det Lugnt was in all likelihood made by people who thought that Eric Burdon really took acid in the 60s, or that Mick Jagger actually practiced Satanism. Anyway, five umlauts out of five.

*It does.

Top 25 Albums Of The Decade (#19)

19) COLOUR HAZE – Colour Haze (2004)

It would be trite of me to say that Colour Haze necessitate/instill a certain mindset—what music doesn’t? Even all those worthless, derivative power metal bands I listened to back in the middle school bring about some form of longing for older times. I’m smarter now, and I’d like to think that my tastes have become more discriminatory. But how many years have to pass before nostalgia sets in? Two? Five? Ten? I first heard this album back in 2006, when my friend and I were laying on the floor of my room (yes, there was a blacklight involved) and “Love” was steadily boring its way into our respective headspaces. When it was over, my friend (whose familiarity with underground music goes about as far as a couple of Mogwai tracks) turned to me and said: “This is the best music I’ve ever heard in my life.” For years I had dreamed of finding an album like this, something meant to be played on shitty Toyota speakers with the windows rolled down, causing you to comment every now and then on “that bass line” or, even better, “that fucking riff,” with no responsibility, pleasantly high, on the way to Waffle House. For the rest of that summer hardly a day went by that we didn’t listen to this album at least once. That was only three years ago, and I don’t remember much about that period of my life (with good reason) other than exactly what I'd wanted to remember: those pointless afternoons, that broken air conditioner, that cheap vaporizer, the sweltering days when I “didn’t know any better,” missing lighters, beer and quite possibly the greatest guitar-and-bass jams of all time.

Top 25 Albums Of The Decade (#20)

20) GHOST – Hypnotic Underworld (2004)

There are two bands named Ghost, and both of them are from Japan. I know nothing about the newer, more straightforward Ghost, other than the fact that they aren’t as good. I haven’t validated this empirically. I also don’t know if they are more straightforward—I just assumed both. And I’m right. Honestly, I’m not even sure if this Ghost (founded in the mid-eighties) actually even exists, at least not on the same space-time continuum as the rest of us. Band bios on the internet claim that they spent their early days living in communes, busking for money in subways and hiding out in abandoned temples in the countryside. Somehow along the way they semi-learned English and fed their heads on classic Western psychedelia such as Amon Düül II, Earth And Fire, Syd Barrett and German motorik. For example: the first four tracks on the album comprise a suite called “Hypnotic Underground” (the title of which is not a fuckup on my part), an overture that lasts for twenty-four minutes, most of which is comprised of occasional bass notes, jangling chimes, “Neuköln” saxophones and whatever else on God’s Green Earth is creating all those noises (is that a washboard?). The rest of the album is a buffet of serpentine guitar solos, Japanese folk, movie soundtracks (Lord Of The Rings = “Poper”), LSD, rainy fields, bongos, flutes, poor pronunciation and just about everything else that kicks ass. This is what the 90s would have sounded like had 1977 never happened, and I’m not entirely convinced that this isn’t what music will sound like in 2148, when the Amish Psychonautic Party takes Washington by a landslide. You have been warned.

Top 25 Albums Of The Decade (#21)

21) PANDA BEAR – Person Pitch (2007)

No relation. Before you think I’m getting all Pitchfork with this list, let me quickly point out that Panda Bear is more-or-less half the brains behind Animal Collective, who the entire music press has deemed Hippest Band In The World (and who, subsequently, happen to be the most overrated). Recorded in Portugal, Person Pitch is redolent of August afternoons on the esplanade; foreign accents and beautiful women; terra-cotta; red wine and Ambien. Did I mention that I can’t understand a single lyric on this album other than “uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh?” Or that it’s likely the strangest thing on this whole list? In the previous review I praised Grizzly Bear’s originality. But while that band might stalk you ominously while you’re on a wilderness vision quest, they don’t really mean you any harm—they just want to help you go out of your mind for a couple of days. Panda Bear, on the other hand, just sits on his ass somewhere on the other side of the world, compiling samples on his computer, layering vocal harmonies, taking pills. Face it people, this is your new rock star: a skinny guy in a t-shirt who is infinitely more capable with a mouse and keyboard than he is with a guitar and keyboard. If this scares you, keep in mind that there was once another guy a lot like this back in the day—I won’t say who he is because I’m afraid I’ve already done too much namedropping (HINT: his last name is a number spelled backwards)—who said: “The ability to play music has nothing to do with the art of making music.” Right on, bro. Now if only Mastodon could figure that out…

Top 25 Albums Of The Decade (#22)

22) GRIZZLY BEAR – Veckatimest (2009)

So there’s this song called “Cheerleader,” and it’s one of the most disjointed, prettiest songs you will ever hear. In fact, you can basically say that about every other track on the album. This is the sound of the heavenly cherubim going electric, tones that are meant to play out late at night on the backs of your eyelids. I hear Buffalo Springfield in this. Gentle Giant. Robert Wyatt. Harry Nilsson. Yet nothing sounds dated, nothing sounds manufactured, nothing sounds commonplace, blah blah blah. Anyway, that’s part of what makes Grizzly Bear so brilliant—their ability to melt you into color with blissful melodies while at the same time making sure that you’re still somewhat uncomfortable. I admit, I actually sort of hated this on the first listen (much like their fellow Brooklynites Dirty Projectors, whose every song sounds like it’s meant to be played backwards). It was only when I saw the video for “Ready, Able” two months ago that I started to piece together what these guys are up to. It’s hard to believe that they’re becoming so popular—they have a song on the New Moon soundtrack, and have even been covered by Michael McDonald. Yes, Michael “Minute By Minute” God Damn McDonald. Your thirteen-year-old sister or your sixty-year-old aunt, take your pick. But whichever way this thing turns out, I’m on board. Though I have to say that if Veckatimest was some obscure LP from the late 60s, it would probably hold a place in my Top 25 Of All Time. Hipsters ruin everything.

Top 25 Albums Of The Decade (#23)

23) SCOTT WALKER – The Drift (2006)

I first heard The Drift in the middle of the night. I was reading along with the lyrics when, about fifteen minutes in, the power in my apartment went out and I was engulfed in darkness. Resisting the urge to switch to “After The Lights Go Out,” or at least something safe and familiar, I pressed on—and this was after that “swallow” part in track two (if you’ve heard this record, then you know exactly what I’m talking about). Midway through this whole experience, when the discordant strings and Walker’s black recitatives were throwing all of my life’s decisions into question, I had a sudden revelation: This is the Hell you get sent to if you die in outer space. The man who once released an album full of Brel covers now creates percussion by punching the carcass of a pig. He’s so cool, he even lets Mohawk from Gremlins 2 provide guest vocals. Later on there’s a line about “pee-pee soaked trousers.” Or at least I think that’s what he says. I don’t know—I haven’t picked up the lyric sheet since that first fateful night. Nor have I listened to it in total darkness. And I never will. Because no one should be expected to sit through that sort of thing, especially not for sixty-eight minutes straight. I’m afraid I might start paying attention again.

Top 25 Albums Of The Decade (#24)

24) TYPE O NEGATIVE – Dead Again (2007)

It’s nice when one of your favorite bands shows that they still have it. It’s even better when they do it by out-weirding everything else they’ve done previously. If this sounds like the same review as the one below, it’s no coincidence. In a decade that saw heavy metal become cross-pollinated beyond recognition (surely there was no such thing as “epic heathen blackened prog metal” in the nineties), when it became gratuitously fashionable to say that your band had a 70s rock influence just because your guitarist played through a fuzz box every now and then, novelty was at its highest premium. But no metal band did anything quite like this—taking the “parodic self-deprecating Beatlesque gothic doom” that made them MTV2-famous in the nineties and infusing it with Russian themes, crazy-ass organ solos and—saints be praised—overt Christian proselytization. And we’re not talking some kind of Orphaned Land mysticism here, we’re talking Glen Beck Storming The Gates Of Apocalypse. I mean, how can one un-hear lyrics such as: “The child is torn from the womb unbaptised / There’s no question it’s infanticide...”? Keep in mind, this is coming from a band whose biggest hit was about a woman masturbating with a crucifix. Is it a joke? If so, then Peter Steele and company have kept a straight face in public for over two years now. And the fact that all of this might be a joke tells you all you really need to know about this band’s personality. Hey, at least they still love Halloween.

Top 25 Albums Of The Decade (#25)

25) AGALLOCH – Ashes Against The Grain (2006)

The list begins, fittingly, with one of the most anticipated metal releases of the decade. When early band interviews hinted at an array of new influences—from Fields Of The Nephilim to Swans to My Bloody Valentine to, for fuck’s sake, Kent—puritans were both baffled and suspicious, while others (such as myself) promptly began soiling themselves with glee. Finally, after many weeks and countless wash cycles, the album dropped in the autumn of 2006, with the end product being something that sounded a whole hell of a lot like... Agalloch. Yes, the new influences are obvious; take the first four minutes of “Limbs,” which wouldn’t seem out of place on an Explosions In The Sky record, or the seven-minute ambient track that closes it all out. What we’re left with is a “controversial” album that retains every bit of the double-negative-using, smoky-autumn-forest vibe that made everyone fall in love with these Oregonians in the first place (I’m not going to use the word “growth” here, I’m just not) while at the same time showcasing a band that over the span of ten years has become increasingly, uh, less-than-un-vivifying.