Keepers 2013

I can’t help but feel I slowed down my record purchases in 2013. The stacks of records around the house show a different reality. But many of them are older albums, plus a boatload of classical music.

I had trouble with many new releases. It was not a year of happy returns. Arcade Fire’s pretensions finally spilled over; I couldn’t get more than a few tracks into the self-indulgent Reflektor; at least The Surburbs was relatable to those who grew up there. Queens of the Stone Age’s uneven …. Like Clockwork included a few gems, starting with My God is the Sun and I Appear Missing. Their sometime collaborator Mark Lanegan released two records this year, the acoustic Black Pudding with Duke Garwood and Imitations, a hit-and-miss covers record. Hearing him croon You Only Live Twice makes one wonder how many lives Lanegan’s voice has endured.

Neko Case came close and if I could reward the second side of The Worse Things Get …, I would. But I am more likely to revisit Fox Confessor and Middle Cyclone thanks to one off-putting a capella track at the center of the new record.

I’m sure I’ve left out albums that stunned me, just as I’m sure there will be gems I have not discovered or songs that will catch me many years from now (Vampire Weekend, Chvrches, I'm talking about you). As always, this list is pure opinion so disagree freely.

The Keepers 
Jason Isbell, Southeastern 
 The man who drank his way of the Drive-By Truckers has sobered. Southeastern finds him in a good place. The angry, dirtiest of the Dirty South tales are not present here. But the brutality takes new shapes as on Elephant, which in this case refers to the cancer eating away a friend at the bar. Isbel has found his footing. Let’s hope he keeps it and continues to grow as a songwriter. This is probably the most “Nashville” record I enjoyed this year, even if the people who inhabit Isbel’s songs are harder and harder to find in the “it” city.

 Junip, Junip
Jose Gonzalez and Company only grant us 30-40 minutes of new music every three years, but Junip’s sophomore album continues their glorious run. If you’re not hooked by the time Line of Fire cracks open, you never will be.

Low, The Invisible Way
Jeff Tweedy’s production presents Low in a different fashion. For a band with two decades behind them, they still surprise. The Invisible Way has an organic spacious sound best heard on tracks like Clarence White and So Blue. As always, props to the band for all the extras throughout the year – a free Live EP, another EP packaged with vinyl containing alternate takes, and a split 7-inch for Black Friday Record Store Day with of all things, a Rihanna cover.

Jim James, Regions of Light and Sounds of God 
Months passed before I connected with the My Morning Jacket frontman’s first solo work under his own name. But once it kicks in, there’s no denying James’ album is distinctly different from his main band’s work. He can’t completely escape it, but who would want him to? I keep coming back to Actress, where James’ voice lines up perfectly with strings and some deep percussion. At moments, it has elements of a lost George Harrison record.

Atoms for Peace, AMOK 
Essentially the followup to Thom Yorke’s 2006 solo record, this supergroup rattles off nine numbers that range from pounding to sublime. Thanks to Flea’s bass, the songs have a funkiness no one would confuse for Radiohead. Also, as I discovered on first spin, the record doesn't sound half-bad if you play it at the wrong speed.

Better Later than Never 
My Bloody Valentine, mbv 
David Bowie, The Next Day 
Bowie’s first record in a decade seemed destined for the dustbin with all the other elder statesmen starving for relevancy. But he finds the mark here. Maybe the slow recording process (sporadic recording over two years) benefitted The Next Day. Nothing feels dashed off, but nothing comes close to a retread except the album cover. Bowie’s chameleon-like music tendencies are intact, and more importantly, his voice shows almost no signs of age. Guitars that sometimes resemble the work of Mick Ronson and Robert Fripp on his Seventies masterpieces go in new directions at the right moment. If Bowie commits nothing else to record, he went out on a surprisingly high note.

But Bowie has nothing on My Bloody Valentine, who ended a two-decade recording hiatus with a the lush, atmospheric mbv (it’s also quite loud, but that’s how this band works). I couldn't name an individual track if forced, because it is best heard start to finish, not in chunks.

Classical Keeper 
Classical increasingly creeps into my music purchases. Easily overlooked in Music City, most stores price those records low. One even charges a flat $3 for all classical vinyl. In March I uncovered Seiji Ozawa and the Boston Symphony performing Ottorini Respighi’s Roman series. Respighi’s symphonic poems about Rome (The Fountains of Rome, Pines of Rome, Roman Festivals) encompasses many moods The Pines of Rome runs through a whimsical opening about children playing at a villa, a brooding, percussive piece about the pines near a catacomb at dusk and a martial finale about the Appian Way. Alain Hohvaness’ Symphony No. 50: Mount St. Helens came in a close second. After two movements of building tension, the third movement suddenly erupts like the mountain and never lets up.

Best Crate Find 
True story about some Nashville record stores: You can find almost any country record from the 50s, 60s and 70s you want so long as you don’t care about condition. There are tons of scratched, scraped and cracked records in every store. However, I do care. For many years, every copy of Marty Robbins’ Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs failed to pass muster. After Breaking Bad used Marty Robbins’ El Paso in its finale, I expected any vinyl copies to go quickly. I was wrong. A relatively unscathed copy cost me four dollars days after Walter White’s last adventure. Now I just need to hunt down Badfinger’s Straight Up, if only for Baby Blue, which ended the series.