But I wanted to focus just on 2009 because it was a challenging year for great records, featuring more than its share of clunkers. Wilco (The Album) covered the same old territory for the first time in Jeff Tweedy’s career. I wanted like sink into Veckatimest from Grizzly Bear, but could only float on the surface after two or three great songs. Willie Nelson phoned in 2 or 3 more half-assed albums. Super Furry Animals will continue to make mediocre albums with one or two worthy tracks into perpetuity. Jack Johnson acolytes topped the charts with the catchy, empty strummings. Essentially, big artists missed the boat big time.
Only Bob Dylan crested that wave with Together Through Life, my favorite album from his this decade; its border influences make it a loose, fun affair, thanks to snarky tracks like It's All Good. I don’t do an album of the year (check out some past winners from Rolling Stone, Spin and others for a good laugh), but Together Through Life and the ten albums below should stay on the turntable well beyond 2010.
Without adieu, here's the decade's last music list:
Animal Collective, Merriweather Post Pavilion and Fall Be Kind EP
The Maryland band was 2009’s alpha and omega, breaking out with its January EP and building on its promise with the five songs it dropped before year’s end. Upon first listen in January , I assumed I had a scratched record thanks to the warped opening riff to Summertime Clothes. A dozen listens later, it couldn’t sound more natural. The year-end EP, Fall Be Kind, aptly concludes Animal Collective’s year. Graze sounds like the bastard child of Disney World’s Electric Main Street Parade. If only EPs from Modest Mouse and Bon Iver (someone needs to beat Justin Vernon with that Auto-Tuner) had such conviction.
Pearl Jam, Backspacer
I hadn’t bought a Pearl Jam album since Ten (the contrarian in me refused to acknowledge until a monster 2008 Bonnaroo set bowled me over). After getting reacquainted prior to its release, Backspacer was just the classic rock record I needed for the fall. Backspacer came out short, sweet and the band never eases off the accelerator. And with George W. Bush out of office, the band doesn’t have to resort to protest songs and gimmicks anymore.
Neko Case, Middle Cyclone
I hesitated about returning her to the list after Fox Confessor Brings the Flood making the cut in 2006, but I couldn’t ignore the achievement. It’s a much different album, demonstrating Case’s maturation as a songwriter. Her words are as sharp an instrument as her voice, and there’s nary a misstep from Some People Gotta Lot of Nerve to The Pharoahs and Red Tide. Ending with 30 minutes of insect and frog noise from a pond on her farm is bold, and right notes to close this amazing late-night record. If her chilling wail on This Tornado Loves You cannot move you, nothing can.
Andrew Bird, Noble Beast
There are critics, but I stick with this statement: No one writes a song like Andrew Bird. Between his whistling and classical violin, he has an esoteric pop sense. All year long I came back to Natural Disaster, Privateers and Souverian, their unique facets deepening on almost every listen. Noble Beast and its two predecessors, Mysterious Production of Eggs and Armchair Apocrypha, form one mighty hat trick for Bird.
Dinosaur Jr., Farm
Could lightning strike twice? Two years after the reformed band resumed their career where it left off on Beyond, they drop Farm, an equally enchanting, eardrum- bruising set. Ignore Mascis’ advice on I Don’t Wanna Go There – you really do. The songs have grown longer since Beyond, hinting at a band much more comfortable with interplay (two pass the seven minute mark without a stale note). Lou Barlow contributes two generally excellent numbers and added a solid solo record, Goodnight Unknown, which failed to hit the same mark as 2005’s Emoh, but outran most indie singer-songwriters by a country mile.
Dave Rawlings Machine, A Friend of A Friend
Finally Gillian Welch’s partner in crime stakes out his own territory. It isn’t far from hers, but after 2008’s great records recalling late Sixties folk- and country-rock, Rawlings’ long-player was welcome relief. More intimate than the Rick Rubin-produced Avett Brothers’ album I and Love and You, which nearly made this list, Rawlings mixes covers and songs he co-wrote with originals. When the weather improves, this has “front porch” record written all over it.
St. Vincent
Equal parts complicated and catchy, Annie Clark’s gentle lyrics spar with her dark lyrics and gale-force guitar riffs. Few artists of any stripes can pair a gentle melody with a title like Laughing With a Mouth of Blood. Hopefully we have only begun to hear from Miss Clark and her challenging music.
Kings of Convenience, Declaration of Dependence
The 21st century’s Scandinavian answer to Simon & Garfunkel ends a five year hiatus by … picking up right where they left off. But the duo’s entrancing harmonies and minimal instrumentation prove haunting on Freedom and Its Owner, the Power of Not Knowing and My Ship Isn’t Pretty. I’m willing to argue about the latter. Erlend Oye and Erik Gambek Boe have become the Tool of folk – drop an stunning album every five years, then moving back to other matters just as quickly.
Built to Spill, There is No Enemy
This is just solid, quirky rock, from Pat to Good Ole Boredom. Built to Spill became a favorite when I realized this was the direction I hoped for Death Cab for Cutie after Transatlanticism. But BTS produces its shimmering, muscular brand of alt-rock in an effortless fashion.Built to Spill’s oddball cousins, the Flaming Lips nearly made the cut, with their least commercial album in 15 years, Embryonic.
With the Beatles
I set this rule up with the Beatles remasters; I could only pick the record which I felt benefited most from the meticulous restoration. No matter how many times I have spun earlier versions, the remasters became a revelation, unearthing instruments buried in earlier mixes and fleshed out music’s most cherished catalogue. A longtime lover of the later Beatles records, the remasters turned me into an appreciator of the early material.
Among those records, in either mono or stereo, With the Beatles trumped all others. Not just the stop-gap many considered it, it represents a major sonic and songwriting leap from Please Please Me, the fleshed-out remasters show off Ringo’s chops, not to mention the Paul McCartney basslines meandering behind the guitars (See All My Loving).
Sure, it still had a few cover songs to fill in gaps, but the sophomore slump that so badly affects many artists never touched the Fab Four. Many prefer Hard Day’s Night, but the new incarnation of With the Beatles snared me from the frantic chants on It Won’t Be Long to the minor-key glory of Don’t Bother Me (Sorry George, but it remains a great song).
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