This little gem of an album is short (under 25 minutes), but it’s got some of the best loop-based tracks I’ve heard this year. That said, I don’t know how much of it is truly looped, since the band members are competent musicians, clearly steeped in the jazz tradition, and plenty capable of playing out the songs as if they were just cut up by somebody in Pro Tools.
The thing has soul. Makes me imagine what would happen if Sesame Street fell through a wormhole, was pulverized, then discovered by Cut Chemist in the 90s and reassembled.
The Years – Basura
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It’s never boring, but works as background music, too. The Years aren’t big on endless repetition. They want to hit you with their tunes, make you nod your head for a bit, and before you know it, they’ve moved on to the next song.
The Years – I Are
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The best part is that the album is available for free download. Go. Enjoy.
I acquired less music this year than in years previous by quite a lot. I spent considerable time listening to stuff I’d stockpiled but never played in an attempt to weed out bands and albums I’d had a passing interest in hearing due to somebody’s recommendation or critical acclaim, but that I didn’t like well enough to play a second time. There is, of course, far more to consume than there are hours in which to consume it, so choices must be made.
According to my last.fm profile, here are the top 10 most listened to artists of the past 12 months (podcasts not included):
10. Eagles of Death Metal
09. The Years
08. Animal Collective
07. Self
06. Said the Whale
05. Joel Plaskett
04. Mother Mother
03. Silversun Pickups
02. The Beatles
01. Parry Gripp
That list is a bit skewed by failing to account for what I listen to on mp3 CDs ensconced in my car’s CD changer, which I’ve been too lazy to change all year. Self should probably still be at the top, along with Wired All Wrong. Queens of the Stone Age don’t make the list and should, and Cut Copy should, as well. I have no direct input for the iPod or iPhone, and the auto adapter that plays over FM is barely acceptable quality, so I still fall back on those old(er) CDs when I want to hear really clean sound. Also, Parry Gripp‘s songs are rarely over two minutes, often under one, and he released piles of them on his blog this year; 41 of which I’ve put in iTunes.
But all that aside, I discovered Mother Mother late in the year, and although they didn’t release an album in 2009, I haven’t been able to put it aside for long in the past month or two. Hence, an honorable mention goes to the band, particularly songwriter/frontman Ryan Guldemond, for crafting a terrific album before I start blogging the stuff I liked that came out this year.
Mother Mother – O My Heart
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A couple of things prevent this from being a viral-worthy powerhouse. First, I should have made it several days ago, when the news of the Salahis crashing the first Obama White House State Dinner was fresh. Second, if I had found a picture with two cats, it would have been more evocative. And, I guess, third, it’s a tiny bit sad that Socks, the cat in the photo, of course, died in February.
But still, I’ve never made one before, and didn’t see anything like it when I was Googling around, so here it is.
The ever droll Tosh.0 Blog has a link to a Wikipedia entry that (rather weakly, in my opinion) encapsulates the past ten years in one short summary paragraph, but also discusses what nickname to use for the decade. I’m not against re-using terms for the previous century, like “oughts,” or “twenties,” when we get there, but we’ve got a perfectly good moniker already, and one that meshes well with an internet mad culture.
The hilariously goofy animator gives us his take on what goes on inside the cars with the surround-view cameras on top that snap photos of the world from its roads.
I’m a bit late to the game with this, but Two Weeks is a great song off a terrific album. And this cute animated video is a nice companion to the wistful nature of the music. I don’t even take points off for its being used in an ad.
I’ve been posting whiny Facebook statuses regarding the Station Fire, but as it grows, and starts to claim lives, I’m leaving off the witty remarks in favor of stunned reverence. We could see flames on nearby ridges Friday night when the Atwater street party was happening.
I snapped a picture on Saturday on my way back from The Valley, when it was already getting unbelievably big.
Yesterday it was just a massive wash of gray smoke, punctuated by undulating white billows that rose up like the mountains had been bombed. I woke up smelling smoke the last four or five mornings, and reports are that the fire will rage for several more days. Firefighters have died in the attempt to contain it. In some ways, it’s a bit how I used to picture the end of the world, where we all numbly continue our daily routines and watch the conflagration grow closer.
But there will be renewal. The Griffith Park fire blackened the hills nearby and made the view rather bleak for a while, but vegetation is starting to grow again. The Angeles forest will follow in the same way. We get used to the fast pace of city life, where billboards change monthly and new skyscrapers spring up every year. But, putting things in perspective, taking the long view, this fire will encourage new growth, and, okay, it will take a few years for it to take hold enough to be noticeable, but a new start is only possible when the dense, dry, dead underbrush is cleared away.
Waaay back at the end of June, we attended my first-cousin-once-removed’s birthday party. I’m not much for infants getting parties, since they won’t remember, but my cousins definitely needed one, and the adult human contact it provided.
Although, I was a bit surprised at the amount of booze.
Cousins galore showed up, as did my parents.
Morgan had a good time yakking with all, while I consumed the last alcohol I’d imbibe until after the film. Solely for the calories, not for any weird artistic reason.
Zoe seemed to enjoy what she could understand, but especially liked the cupcake she got, most of which ended up on her face, not in it. She started feeding her father some of the mashed-up crumbs after she’d mangled the top of the thing, in the cutest birthday moment, ever. So, naturally, I failed to get a shot of it.
I’ve loved Elbow since I first heard them in 2002. Their last album was a corker, full of beautiful melodies, clever arrangements, and lyrics that made me ache to hear their wit. Guy Garvey has a gift for lyrics, and The Bones of You was my favorite song on The Seldom Seen Kid. I had to learn to play it, and put it on repeat until I knew all the words intimately, like a poem I had to recite in public.
