Top 10 CDs of 2016 - #10 - #6

Finally, with just a couple days to spare, my Top 10 of 2016, Number 10 – 6.

For those landing here for the first time, not sure who I am or why you are reading this, I am just a singer/songwriter who loves music more than most love life. HERE is the Preamble I posted yesterday, go read that, so you can understand this next section.

EPs – since I do not include EPs in my Top 10 CDs of the year, I did want to mention a few artists who released EPs that would have probably made the list, had they added a few more incredible songs: The River Kittens, The Sleep Rubies, The Wild Reeds, and William Wild.

 #10 Explosions in the Sky – The Wilderness

This spot is always the hardest for me because there are approximately 20 albums all fighting it out for the final position on the Top 10 list. This year an instrumental band won, despite my clear, and unapologetic, love for great singers. Like many I learned about Explosions in the Sky through the Friday Night Lights movie and subsequent TV show. As a collector of football movies, I was a fan of both and became a fan of the music. With the exception of my collection of jazz recordings, the only other instrumental CDs I own are all from Explosions in the Sky, and I own everything they’ve put out. Their music speaks to the closet looper in me. The kid that recorded his first full length on an old 4-track using anything he could get his hands on to add layers and textures to the recording. So, I had to show this incredible four piece some love. The Wilderness is everything you would expect from Explosions. What they have created is much more than a painting on a canvas. It is a movie with expansive soundscapes that open up the mind and beg it to create the visuals and emotions that accompany the soundtrack.

#9 Warpaint – Heads Up

I forget when I first learned about Warpaint, but I’ve been following them for a while now. Their 2014 self-titled release was probably #11 for the year, just outside of my Top 10. What helped them crack the top 10 this year was clear and decisive growth. This album shows maturity of voice and confidence of direction. They are doing their thing, and I am pretty sure they give zero fucks if anyone has a problem with their direction. You can always tell when a great band is being controlled by the machine because they put out some bubble gum piece of shit album that sounds like they are trying to sell CDs to the cool kids at the junior high lunch table, not the kids sitting in the back of the cafeteria writing poetry and losing themselves in their doodles. While I acknowledge a recording is an opportunity to expand beyond what a band can do live, it shouldn’t cause the listener to question the voice of the artist. Although Head Up is a great example of a band pushing themselves, of pushing boundaries, you can tell they are the ones driving the car, and the roadtrip they are taking us reminds us why we love to be on the road.  

#8 Beyonce – Lemonade

Every time I put a curveball on the list I feel like I need to spend some time explaining, and for those that follow my blog, my Facebook page, or my Twitter page this selection may seem like a curveball. Those that really know me know my music collection is pretty diverse. What you see me posting daily is usually what I listened to the night before as I was going to bed. My wife has some very definitive opinions on what sleepy-time music is, so I am usually posting things on the softer side. That doesn’t mean that that is all I am listening to. While this is my first Beyonce CD, I do have a pretty good collection of female R&B singers, lots of Erykah Badu, India Arie, Lauryn Hill, and Alicia Keys. To this point, Beyonce always seemed to be speaking to a younger generation, but as folks get older the gap diminishes. Lemonade is powerful. It speaks to the musician in me. It speaks to the lover of big voices and expertly placed runs. It speaks to the poet soul that loves a good story. Most importantly it speaks to the step-dad who wants to encourage his very independent little girl to continue to be strong and brave, to never take shit from a man because no one deserve that. In all honesty, this could have been my #1 of the year. It is that strong, but it just didn’t get the same amount of spins as some of the other CDs. As I am listening to it now, I am not sure why, probably because it is too powerful for sleepy-time music.

#7 Daughter – Not to Disappear

I was bouncing between videos on KEXP; I heard Elena Tonra’s voice and the atmospheric guitars, and I was hooked. I went to my friend iTunes and bought everything I could. I am pretty sure I listened to nothing but Daughter for the entire month of February. It is rare that an album released in January makes my Top 10 list. The CD has to maintain relevance for 12 months, as I am continually distracted by new releases, but Not to Disappear did not disappear (Yeah, I just did that; come on, you telling me you weren’t thinking it? Please). I’ve mentioned this in other Top 10s, but I love when a recording gives space to the instruments. It’s so easy to set the beat and let it carry the song, but when there is space and movement it gives life to the songs. Daughter does an excellent job of allowing things to breathe in this recording. In addition to Tonra’s distinctive voice and the energy of the recording, when you peel away the instrumentation the lyrics are incredible:

No Care

No one asks me for dances because I only know how to flail
I always hit like I'm drowning, dead arms around him
I'd rather stand still, hold tightly to the walls

No care, no care in the world
No care, no care in the world
I don't care, I don't care anymore
I don't care, I don't care

Love you in a panic because I prefer to sit on fences
Spit-kissing on my sickbed
I'm not searching for replacements
But we are like broken instruments
Twisted up and wheezing out the runnels
Sleepless folks watching light grow
Through their early morning windows

I don't care, I don't care anymore
I don't care, I don't care

Oh, I'm too drunk to fight, hurlings curses at your surface
Because I'm aware, because it hurts that I'm in love again
And you have kissed my neck so your arguments are insane
Fighting over the way something was said
Well, I'm still here like a cheap threat

No care, no care in the world
No care, no care in the world
I don't care, I don't care anymore
I don't care, I don't care

Oh, there has only been one time where we fucked
And I felt like a bad memory
Like my spine was a reminder of her
And you said that you felt sick
I was so heavy hearted, lying side-on with you afterwards
How I wanted you to promise we would only make
How I wanted you to promise we would only make
How I wanted you to promise we would only make love
But my mouth felt like I was choking, broken glass
So I just slept it off
You see, my mouth felt like it could talk the end of us
So I just slept it off, slept it off

No care, no care in the world
No care, no care
I don't care, I don't care anymore
I don't care, I don't care

Ah, I'm too drunk to fight
I only wanted you to promise me we would only ever make love
But my mouth felt like I was choking, broken glass
So I just slept it off
Wanted you to promise me we would only ever make
Wanted you to promise me we would only ever make love

#6 Rachael Yamagata – Tightrope Walker

It was September 2008, Hotel Café was coming to Blueberry Hill, and I was going to see Rachael Yamagata for the first time. She did not disappoint; I’ve seen her five times since, including a roadtrip to Indianapolis, and she never disappoints. She is prolific, a sought after collaborator that is equally powerful behind 88 keys, 6 strings, or a microphone stand. Had I been doing a Top 10 list in 2008, Elephant… Teeth Sinking into Heart, would probably have been #1. I wore that album out. Listening to Tightrope Walker, I am sad that I haven’t had a chance to listen to this more. It is Yamagata at her best. The instrumentation strikes a beautiful balance between luscious acoustic instruments (“I’m Going Back” has some of the best strings I have heard recorded) and driving electro-pop. Her songwriting is earnest and thoughtful, and her voice is the smoke cloud where dreams are born.

As to prevent the post from being TOO long, I will give you #5 - #1 tomorrow. 

Stay tuned!!!

Preamble: Top 10 CDs of 2016

Well, it’s that time again. The time when I remember that I actually have a blog – oh my pour unused blog. The time when I ramble in an effort to let you know what albums I think were the best in 2016. But not so fast. First we need to cover some details about my list, talk about music consumption, and ease you into the music that got me moving in 2016.

I posted my first public top 10 list in 2009, over the last seven years the requirements of the lists have remained pretty consistent, but for new readers I like to provide a quick review. My list tends to be singer/songwriter heavy. I am a singer/songwriter, so it stands to reason that I enjoy listening to other singer/songwriters. As in years past, to make the list, I have to own the CD. Like most, I subscribe to a variety of streaming services, so I end up listening to a lot of music, but in order to be considered for the top 10, the recording had to be so good that I opened the wallet and dropped coin for the CD.  Other factors that are taken into consideration, vocal quality – what can I say, I like big voices, unique voices, solid voices – total spins, lyrical content, and the ability to pull it off live. I realize the last shouldn’t be in consideration for album of the year, but it’s my list, so… Also, I will not consider EPs. Don’t get me wrong, I like EPs. I listen to EPs, but they always leave me wanting more. I understand that that is often the point, leave them wanting more has long been the motto of many a performer, but I want to be satiated by the music. I want to be fat-full. Laying on the couch in a tryptophan stupor, full. I want a post-orgasmic state where the body can do nothing but tingle as the mind reflects on what just happened. That rarely happens in four songs.

So, let’s talk about what has changed for me – consumption. For years I’d sit in my office and work the day away as Pandora spoon fed me new artists that they felt were similar to artists that I was already enjoying. I learned about a lot of new artists that way. Well, I changed jobs this year, and my new employer blocks all streaming services. ALL. STREAMING. SERVICES. However, YouTube is wide – the fuck – open. As a result, YouTube has become my new radio, and sites that share consistently great new artists like Audiotree, KEXP, and NPR Music have really had an impact on what I am listening to this year.

Now, before I get into my actual list, we need to address the incredible elephant that is in the room. I am a 42 year old dad that hasn’t toured with a band in 5 years. I work my 7 to 3, spend my free time coaching my son’s 2^nd grade football team and playing fantasy football. Sure I go to concerts frequently, will even travel with the family to see bands we love, and I still play the occasional solo show, mess around making crazy experimental loops in the basement with the kids, and have friends over once and a while for a good jam to knock off the rust, but my hip-factor is as fleeting as my hairline. While I’d love to claim to be current with the new musical trends and groups, every once and a while great new artists slip by me and they miss their shot at the list. If I am being completely honest, the three artists that got the most play this year did not release full lengths in 2016 – Julien Baker, William Wild, and Sylvan Esso.

Although I knew the name Julien Baker because she made just about everybody’s 2015 list, I consider her to be an Audiotree find. It was the end of the year. I was reading other people’s lists, and I didn’t think it was right to rearrange my list just because everyone else was infatuated with this girl, so I didn’t really dig in. Well, I was wrong. I should have. I watched her Audiotree performance and was mesmerized. Six string, one voice, and some ambient delays. She is incredible. She is intelligent. She is thoughtful. She is everything I love about singer/songwriters. I just kept replaying the video. I bought the Sprained Ankle CD, bought the Audiotree recording and she entered into weekly rotation. I have listened to her CD at least once a week since first watching the video.

By the time I found William Wild, I was already allowing Audiotree to think for me. Daily I go out and look for the new releases, and no matter what it is, I listen. Sometimes its thick sludge rock, sometime hip-hop, sometimes it is new artists still struggling with keeping pitch, sometimes it is seasoned pro’s that are graciously offering up themselves to hungry ears, sometimes it is new cats whose voices are gifts. That was William Wild, aka Garrett Sale. If I had a formal tracking system, I’d bet William Wild and Julie Baker are tied for most plays this year. Like with Baker, I purchased everything I could from William Wild. While the rest of the world was on a collective conscious journey to merge electronic and folk-rock, Garrett and crew keep it pure, understated but expert production featuring heavenly guitar tones and all the pedal steel my happy ears could handle, and as mentioned his voice is a gift. It is the kind of voice that makes other singers wish they sang like him.

While Julien Baker and William Wild definitely got the most plays at home, Sylvan Esso most certainly got the most plays at work. There is nothing better than making sense out of rows of data, fully in the zone, and chair dancing to the fresh grooves concocted by Nick Sanborn while losing myself in Amelia Meath’s incredible voice. I have not created an Excel chart, PowerPoint presentation, or status report in 2016 without the assistance of the Sylvan Esso dance party. Unlike the other two artists, I found Sylvan Esso during my weekly Tiny Desk Concert search which often results in me falling down an illuminated rabbit hole of Tiny Desk performances, as YouTube serves me up artist after artist. Most become background for my work, but not Sylvan Esso. They took over the moment and produced multiple queries as I sought to learn more about this band. Like the others, I purchased everything I could find and wait patiently for more.

So, while none of them can make the official Top 10 CDs of 2016, these three were my top new finds of 2016.  Tomorrow I will unveil the official 10-6, and on Friday I will give you 5-1.

Stay tuned!

Don't Hate Me because I am Not Native: Fish Fries and the Labyrinth

I moved to St. Louis in December of 1998, a fresh eyed Californian grateful to be on a full ride. One thing that was immediately apparent was the massive amount of Catholic influence. I knew one Catholic in high-school, but it definitely appears to be the dominant religion here.

This influence colors the region in a variety of ways, there are Saints everywhere you look, and Lent means Friday Fish Fries. Somehow I managed to miss out on that action for the first 18 years of living here, but yesterday I changed all that.

To be honest, I may have attended one early on, but it was college, and I wasn’t a Saint, so things can be fuzzy at times.

But, before we get to fish fry, let me tell you a little story about a 37 year old watching Labyrinth for the first time.

For a while my circle was doing weekly movie nights. When they found out I had never seen the Labyrinth they lost their minds. HOW. COULD. I. HAVE. NOT. SEEN. THAT. MOVIE? Clearly, it was next week’s selection. As we piled into Julie’s and Vinnie’s living room, sprawling ourselves across coaches and chairs, I was ready to have my mind awakened, to witness the missing piece to my childhood, to experience cinematic greatness. What I saw was one of the most ridiculous, corny, films I had ever seen. The acting was horrible, and the production was abysmal, but they LOVED it. It was as if the seed that had been planted so many years ago, rooted itself so deeply, that it was altering reality. The memory of the magic was far greater than the reality of the movie itself. The only thing we could agree on was there was some SERIOUS moose knuckle going on. 

That was my fish fry.

From an outsider’s perspective, I think the fish fry is more about nostalgia than great food. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t awestruck. I didn’t find myself lamenting over the flavors tangoing across my tongue. I didn’t stare down at my plate wondering how they made this magical fish like I have done when eating meals at Niche, Home (RIP), Southern, Juniper, Three Flags Tavern, and Quincy Street Bistro, to name a few. For the locals, the diehards, you are probably thinking I didn’t go to a good one. Well, that may be, but I went to the one that got the most votes on my SM poles, so some people clearly think it is good. And no, I will not say where I went. That is not the intent of this post.

The point is, I suspect the memories of those early fish fries, the running around the gym floor with your friends while your parents talked politics in their best Charlie Brown voices, the first bites of freshly fried fish after waiting in the eternal line, the greasy French fries that filled your hungry little bellies, those moments of freedom and satiation left such an indelible impression that you still look forward to the experience thirty years later. This, folks, is the magic of the mind.

Will I go again?

Sure.

Teddy thought it was the best fish he had ever had, and Wendy Mae loved her shrimp. I don’t want to take that from them, but I’ll be going in knowing it is the Labyrinth, not Dead Poets Society. 

Warning for Concert Goers: Don't Poke Papa Bear

First, no I am not turning this blog into a Dad blog. My wife and I are planning a parenting blog, but we are still trying to solidify the voice and title. We had a GREAT idea, and we knew it was great because someone already took it, so… In the meantime, being a step-dad is my current station in life, so it is bound to find its way into my musings. Luckily, this time, it is also about music.

Amanda and I are very big on experiential gifts, so this year one of the family gifts was to see Jason Isbell at the Peabody. Because I ain’t cheap, I got us good seats, like 10 rows back. The seats were perfect, patrons around us seemed chill, and we were ready for a great night of listening to our favorite as a family.

The evening kicked off with a rumpus set from Shovels and Rope. Always great to see a group really feeling it, and they were so gracious. I will say they were a bit loud for my taste, and not loud in the “get off my lawn” kind of way, loud in the we are a two piece so we are going try to fill the void with volume. This happens. Hell, I started running split amps when Corey Woodruff  and I were playing out as a duo. I’m not mad at them. I know why it happens. I am just saying the songs were strong enough to stand on their own without being propped up by volume causing uncontrolled feedback.

After a lengthy change over, Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit took the stage, and we lit up. For the first time in the six times I have seen him, his wife, Amanda Shires, was on stage with him. There is something so incredibly moving about seeing a husband and wife perform together, when the looks of love are not a mere façade. Plus with a budding 8-year-old fiddle player in the house, we were thrilled for her to be able to witness greatness. As they always do, Isbell and the band destroyed the stage. They were tight as a hipster’s jorts. Their joy and enthusiasm for the music could be felt everywhere in the room. They brought smiles and tears, bringing the house down with “Cover Me Up” which, by all accounts, was everything. It was shaping up to be a perfect night, and then there was the encore.

As is common, folks tend to inch their way forward during the pause between the last song of the main set and the encore. Some people bail, hoping to avoid traffic, while others clamber to get closer. The majority around me were sitting still, so I didn’t think much of it, but behind us was a row of folding chairs reserved for folks attending the concert with someone in a wheel chair. The row was vacant for the entire show, until the encore. That’s when things took a turn for the worse.

Behind us stood a very intoxicated Mid-Life Crisis Barbie, well into her 40’s and dressed for clubbing, and her friend I am Too Old for American Idol but I Think I Can Sing Barbie. Now, I am not mad at AI Barbie. You do you. If you are feeling it, sing your ass off. As a performer, we LOVE it. It helps that you were almost in tune, too. Crisis Barbie, on the other hand, not a fan. As the band returned to the stage, they eased into “Flagship.” As you will see below, this is not a rocker; this is a subtle ballad that begs to be listened to. Crisis Barbie didn’t see it that way. She was very content to loudly hackle and talk with AI Barbie. I kept my cool. Rolling my eyes and breathing, and then she dropped her drink, almost dropping it on my step-son. I gave a quick cutting glare, but still maintained. Then as AI pointed out what she had done, I hear Crisis say, “Fuck that kid.” I was in her face in a nanosecond. I am not entirely sure what all I said, but I know there was a “Shut the Fuck Up” and not like the way Elaine would have said it to Jerry if Seinfeld was on Showtime; more like Stone Cold would have said it to Vince McMahon. She gave me a couple “Fuck Yous,” but the only thing I heard from her the rest of the night was the rattle of her ice cubes against the plastic up, as she tried not to waste the remaining drops of vodka.

Now, I will be the first to admit I did not handle this situation well. I definitely needed to be more tactful. I envision she is telling stories about the asshole at the concert as I write this. Clearly she isn’t going to own that she was the asshole. Drunk people rarely do. And I know I made an impact because, at some point, her fella came to her side. Like many, I’ve been there before, where the girl I was with was running her mouth, justified or not, and I had to step in to end the conflict. When the show ended and the lights came up, he made eye contact and offered a “good show” fist-bump. This is similar to a bear showing a submissive posture or yielding space. While his mouth said, “Good show, right?” his eyes said, “Look Bro, I see you. I get that your arm is as big as my leg, and you are sober while my reaction time clearly is impaired. Let’s chalk this up to what it is: she’s drunk, and I don’t want to fight you.” I nodded and helped little man get his coat on.

While I regret the manner in which I approached the situation, I do not regret responding and, frankly, I am TIRED of people not doing anything; of people enabling this kind of behavior or biting their tongues because, “(s)he’s drunk.” In an effort to avoid similar situations in the future, I will offer a few tips. I am pretty sure I have written something like this in the past, but it needs to be repeated.

• If your intention is to talk through a show, please stay home. People have paid good money to HEAR the performer. And, as a performer, talking is seriously disrespectful. What I have written has meaning, and I am offering it to you, so please listen. If you are more interested in hearing the sound of your voice, belly up to a bar somewhere without live music and talk until you are hoarse.
• If you are going to the show because it presents a good chance for you to become intoxicated, please stay home. Think about the cost savings. That $80 worth of rail drinks would cost you about $25 at home with the good shit, plus you don’t have to worry about paying for Uber, or worse, driving drunk. You can be as obnoxious as you want and no fucks will be given. Well your friends may, but they already love you, so they’ll likely forgive you.
• If you try to get slick at a show and move into some vacant seats with a better vantage point, realize you can easily be removed, so be on your best behavior.
• Lastly, if you see a bear and his cub, don’t poke the bear.

Choosing Effort: Shoveling at 4:30 a.m.

Why did I shovel my drive way at 4:30a, filled with the fear of pissing off my neighbors as the dull blade scraped across rough concrete breaking the silence of early morning, you ask?

I mean I certainly didn’t need to. What appears to be a little more than two inches is definitely no match for either of our cars, and the driveway isn’t really steep enough to cause any issues with getting up it. In addition, Amanda’s school called off and I can work from home, so we really don’t need to leave the house today. And it’s Missouri. We’ll heat up above 32 this week, and it will all be melted by Friday. So, why, indeed?

Well, there are actually a few reasons.

First, the kids were getting dropped off in the morning, and I didn’t want them to have to walk through the snow to get into the house. That may sound pretty caring, like I am concerned for the warmth of their little tootsies, but I can assure you it is less altruistic than that. Have you seen a 5 year old and an 8 year old walk in the snow? It’s never just walking. As soon as the first snow boot hits the fluffy white flakes of good-times and magic, the bitter dichotomy of ecstasy and pain would descend upon that moment like Dionysus showing up to a party on a three day wine bender. It would only be a matter of time before someone would end up with icy tears and a face full of snow. Hell, even with the shoveled drive way that happened, but at least they didn’t track it through our clean house.

More importantly, it is the example I am trying to set for the kids. I want them to understand life, want them to realize life isn’t all snowball fights and snow-angels. I want them to know that their step-dad believes in hardwork, and, through my example, I am hoping they adopt the same philosophy. Not now, not when they are teenagers, necessarily, but when they are on their own trying to figure it all out. I want them to think back to these moments and allow them to be their guide. I want them to take pride in their property, as they have seen me and their mom showing our pride by keeping the house clean, the lawn mowed (okay, I have a lawn dude, but still…I work hard to pay him J), the and driveway shoveled. I want them to know that there was an easier way, a lazy way, to deal with this little snow storm, but I chose to deal with it by putting forth a little effort; I chose to deal with it the right way. And they need that. They need those examples because the car they were dropped off in was still covered and looked like Hailey’s Comet as it sped away.

Lastly, I would be lying if I didn’t say I find it somewhat cathartic, despite the fear of waking the neighbors. The silence of early morning. The snow glistening under a tired streetlamp. The cold air making nose run and cheeks rosy. The rhythm of the scrape and step. The sense of accomplishment as something that was once covered in snow is now clean.