Why I Loved Music in 2013 (albumz edition)

This year, perennial LB favorites the Avett Brothers, Iron & Wine, Pearl Jam, and even David freaking Bowie released albums. All of them were great. None of them cracked my Top Ten.

That’s how incredible it was to love music in 2013. It seemed like, whether it was Beyonce dropping a record in the middle of the night or a sixteen year old from New Zealand becoming an international sensation or a Beatle releasing his strongest solo effort in years, there was wonderful music lurking around every corner.

This was the year that Jay-Z and Jack White collaborated on the soundtrack to The 3D Great Gatsby (I had to type that sentence because I still can’t believe that it actually happened). This was the year that Daft Punk conquered the world, without saying a single word. This was the year that Justin Timberlake released not one but TWO albums and even reunited N’sync for about thirty seconds. Oh, and about that Beyonce person? She also broke the Super Bowl this year.

Suffice it to say, it was exceptionally difficult to narrow it down to a list of ten. And that, in and of itself, is a reason to be joyful.  Because more than any other year in recent memory, 2013 was a great one full of inventive artists pushing boundaries and creating amazing music.

Still, I'm not one to shy away from a challenge, so here are my TEN FAVORITE ALBUMS OF 2013. 

10. KURT VILE- WAKIN ON A PRETTY DAZE

No other album in 2013 was as aptly titled as the fifth LP from Philly’s own grungy folk-lord Kurt Vile. With its gorgeous layers of guitars unfurling under Vile’s effortless lyricism, the entire album occupies that mental space in between sleeping and waking.  A lot of these tracks hit the six-minute mark or beyond, but they never seem to feel it, perhaps because they lull the listener into a hypnotic or often meditative state.  The ghost of Lou Reed hovers in the air, especially when Vile delivers deadpanned poetry like “Don’t worry about a thing, it’s only dying.” But the real star, as always, is Vile’s guitar, which is so simple and yet so highly emotive, it makes you want to stay in this dreamworld forever.

9. MILEY CYRUS- BANGERZ

While everyone else was debating whether Katy or Gaga would be the reigning pop queen of 2013, Miley Cyrus slipped in with a foam finger and a fearless attitude and stole the throne from under them. Say whatever you like about the way that Cyrus dresses, her Kardashian-like manipulation of the media, or Hannah Montana, but the music speaks for itself. Bangerz is kind of a masterpiece. It’s a total amalgamation of everything that’s going on in popular music right now. It’s hip-hop, country, EDM, glam-rock, R&B and Miley sings the shit out of all of it. Screw the haters. Let Miley do her thang.

8. THE LONE BELLOW- THE LONE BELLOW

If I told you that the Lone Bellow consists of three people, you would not believe me. Their songs are so powerful and so intense; it’s easier to think that they’ve got an entire gospel choir backing them. Perhaps its because they are rooted in an almost uncomfortable level of emotional honesty (lead vocalist and songwriter Zach Williams started writing music after a tragic horseback riding accident left his new wife paralyzed). I saw these folks play a show last spring and even without a drummer, it felt as though a locomotive tore through the room. Of course, there are inevitable comparisons to new folk royalty like Mumord and Sons and the Lumineers, but The Lone Bellow’s country-gospel-soul music is in a league of its own. This is the strongest debut of the year, by far, and I can’t wait to see what these guys do in the future.

7. NEKO CASE- THE WORSE THINGS GET, THE HARDER I FIGHT, THE HARDER I FIGHT, THE MORE I LOVE YOU

Neko Case has been everywhere and done everything. She has ties to Virginia, Seattle, Canada, Chicago, and Arizona. She’s been a country singer, an indie-rock babe, a punk rocker, a New Pornographer, and one of my favorite Twitter feeds of all time. But this year, she was mostly just a great songwriter and a great singer. The Worse Things Get is the best thing that she’s ever done and not coincidentally, it’s also the most personal. Case has always hid behind the veil of abstraction and fantasy rather than opening up about her own life.  This time around, everything feels autobiographical. It’s easier to connect with, even when the result is an acapella number about a mother telling her child to “get the fuck away” at a bus stop in Hawaii.

6. JIM JAMES- REGIONS OF LIGHT AND SOUNDS OF GOD

A solo album for My Morning Jacket’s Jim James seems outrageously excessive at first. After all, the man has been the engine of MMJ for a decade and a half, as well as part of the indie-folk super group Monsters of Folk. He even released tributes to George Harrison and Woody Guthrie under the pseudonym Yim Yames. After all of that, is a solo album really necessary? Of course it is. Less a record than it is a symphony of sorts, Regions of Light is thematically and sonically different from anything else that James has ever done. It sounds like the future and the past at the same time. On one hand, there are the blips and beeps of modern technology. On the other, it’s the doo-wappy optimism of “A New Life.” MMJ has always sounded otherworldly, but this is the first time that James has been borderline celestial. And with a title like Regions of Light and Sounds of God would you expect anything less? This is straight up 70’s soul and R&B meets hip-hop with a bit of eerie electronica mixed in. My Morning Jacket never could have gotten away with it, but Jim James certainly can. It’s brave and weird and ultimately incredible.

5. THE CIVIL WARS- THE CIVIL WARS

When a band’s name recalls the greatest internal crisis in American history, it probably shouldn’t be surprising that they spontaneously combusted on the eve of great success. But what an explosion it was! It kind of blows my mind that more people aren’t listing this record among the year’s best. It’s a modern day, country-folk Rumors, simmering with sexual tension and naked confessions. On the surface, it’s the year’s prettiest record, full of gorgeous harmonies, Joy Williams’ stunning voice and John Paul White’s immaculate guitar work.  It’s just as much of an accomplishment for producer Rick Rubin, who manages to explore new ground for the duo without overpowering the melodic sensibilities that made Barton Hollow so endearing. But where Barton Hollow was gentle, the self-titled follow up is sharp and rough.  The desperation and longing and bitter regret that accompany the end of a relationship is all there for the world to see. It’s no surprise at all that the duo isn’t even on speaking terms. We may never know what happened. We may never get another Civil Wars album. But somehow, that makes this record even more compelling. 

4. DAFT PUNK- RANDOM ACCESS MEMORIES

RAM was not the Daft Punk album that I was expecting. In fact, my first reaction to it, after months of hype and listening to thirty seconds of “Get Lucky” on an indefinite loop, was: This isn’t a Daft Punk album. Maybe it’s not. But maybe that doesn’t matter. In 2001, Daft Punk reinvented the notion of what successful pop music could be on Discovery. Here, two French guys in ridiculous robot costumes brought EDM to the masses, spawned an army of vocoder clones, and managed to do it all while seeming more human than 99% of the artificial, manufactured pop music that dominated the charts. In 2013, they reinvented what Daft Punk could be, and in doing so, transformed popular music for the second time. RAM is a disco record, complete with Niles Rogers. It is much more a collaborative effort than anything they have ever done. It keeps the synthesizers to a minimum, opting instead for live performance-based tracks in the vein of Led Zeppelin or The Eagles. While their other albums were characterized by what they could do with computers, RAM is characterized by what they did without them. And what they did was craft an expansive, sonically astounding record of which the highlight is an eight minute spoken word track. Sometimes defying expectations is a beautiful thing.

3. THE NATIONAL- TROUBLE WILL FIND ME

On “Don’t Swallow the Cap” Matt Berninger quips that he “has only two emotions/ fearful fear and dead devotion.” And if you’ve listened to The National’s last three brilliant albums, it’s hard not to think, “Well, duh.” That kind of vague, self-awareness is rampant on the band’s latest great release. By now, these guys have firmly established themselves as the current most prolific band in rock and roll. But, seriously, have they ever sounded better than they do on Trouble Will Find Me? Berninger’s regal baritone is more resonant, Bryan Denendorf’s percussion more inventive, the songs are streamlined and more efficient, and the lyrics are as clever as ever. This is the sound of a band that is comfortable in its own skin. It’s the sound of a band that is 100% confident of what kind of band it should be. The result is their most direct and accessible album yet. It may not be breaking any new musical ground for them, but its full of the kind of songs that will seduce you and stick around for weeks, or maybe years, on end. 

2. VAMPIRE WEEKEND- MODERN VAMPIRES OF THE CITY

I never really understood why people were so crazy for Vampire Weekend, until I heard "Diane Young" for the first time. "Okay, boys," I felt like saying. "You have my attention." By the time that Modern Vampires was released, they had more than just my attention. Vampire Weekend has grown up. They've gotten philosophical. They've tossed off that indie-rock, Ivy League pretentiousness that everyone accused them of and replaced it with questions about mortality and spirituality and honest to god soul-searching. It suits them. It really does. Especially because they've miraculously managed to keep their music as effervescent and fun as it was before. How does a band manage to get heavier and lighter at the same time? How do you make lyrics like "We know the fire awaits unbelievers, all of the sinners the same," sound like a carnival instead of a death march? How do you write a break up song about god? Vampire Weekend figured all of that out, and they did it exuberantly. 

1. JASON ISBELL- SOUTHEASTERN

Everyone's a sucker for a good redemption story and Jason Isbell had the best one of the whole year. He had the best damn album of the year too, but I'll elaborate on that in a bit. You've probably never heard of Isbell, but he's been around for a while. He's an Alabama native who inadvertently joined the Drive-By Truckers at the age of 22 and wrote a few of their most memorable songs. He also liked to drink. A lot. He estimates that during his time with the Truckers, he was drinking a fifth of whiskey a night. By the end of the live shows, he could barely stand. He was kicked out of his marriage, as well as the band, in 2007. He kept drinking, got bloated, and picked fights with Dierks Bentley on Twitter until now-wife Amanda Shires (who is also a songwriter/fiddle-player) got him into rehab. Once sober, he married Shires and filled his life with positive influences (like Ryan Adams, who took Isbell with him on an international acoustic tour) and wrote an entire album of confessional, incredible songs. It's called Southeastern and it's kind of a marvel. There's no technical wizardry here. This doesn't sound like anything new. It is, simply put, phenomenal songwriting. Every single track is the kind of song that you want to replay as soon as it's finished, even though many of them are equivalent to emotional sucker punches. The first track, "Cover Me Up" is Isbell's firsthand account of the night that he decided he needed to quit drinking. In the hands of a less capable songwriter, that would have been maudlin, but here it is a delicate love story. It doesn't get any lighter.  The song "Elephant" is play of mortality about a friendship between a man and a woman that is dying of cancer. "Yvette" is about a young boy who levels a gun at a female classmate's abusive father. Life is hard, Isbell says over and over again on Southeastern, but it's not hopeless. In the final and best track on an album full of standouts, he sings, "You should know compared to people on a global scale, our kind has had it relatively easy." And something about that simple message has stuck with me more than any other thing I've heard this year. "Here with you there's always something to look forward to, my lonely heart beats relatively easy." 

Amen. With all of the great things that happened in 2013, it's easy to look forward to 2014. 

Why "Feed the Birds" is the Greatest Song Ever Written About Feeding Birds

Merry Christmas! 

Santa Claus (or maybe just my brother) brought me the beautiful new Mary Poppins Blu-Ray, which is perfect since  (in between watching NPH host the Parks parade!) I've been meditating on Saving Mr. Banks. Anyway, here's a bit of trivia:

Unlike the film claims, it was actually "Feed the Birds" which convinced P.L. Travers to allow the Poppins film to be a musical. Coincidentally, that was also Walt Disney's favorite song. Until the end of his life, he would instruct the Sherman brothers to "play it" and they would know exactly which tune he meant. 

Here's some audio from the actual Travers meetings with the actual Shermans which includes "Feed the Birds." You can hear P.L. Travers humming along. 

Why Saving Mr. Banks Might Actually Be Saving Mr. Disney

He's won more Oscars than any other human, but in spite of being the most formidable figure in the history of Hollywood, Walt Disney has never been in a movie. 

The reason for that is pretty simple. From the moment that Walt died in 1966, the company he founded started manipulating his image into one of a benevolent, unimpeachable deity. In the fifty years since then, they've guarded it closely. Perhaps too closely. And Disney the Man has kind of disappeared behind Disney the Brand. Which is a real shame, because Disney the Man is one of the most fascinating and brilliant humans of the 20th century. 

So when the Disney company announced that they were making Saving Mr. Banks and that Tom Hanks would be portraying Walt, I was excited but also extremely apprehensive. With the Disney name attached to it, would the film be just another entry into the company-approved mythology of Walt?

P.L. Travers is not very optimistic.

Imagine my surprise when the first thing you see or hear of Walt Disney in Saving Mr. Banks is a loud and horrible smoker's cough. It's the kind of thing that never would have been approved by the Disney company that I grew up with. 

Then again, neither would most of Saving Mr. Banks. 

What appears to be a family-friendly comedy about the making of the Mary Poppins film is actually a deeper and darker examination of childhood traumas and how they can inform the rest of a person's life. And, eventually, how those traumas can be transformed into the highest caliber of art: the honest kind. From the get-go (and from that smoker's cough) this is a film that defied almost every expectation that I had for it and made me love it even more.

Jason Schwartzman and Ryan the Temp compose a musical interlude to British frumpiness. 

Saving Mr. Banks is split between two places and time periods. The first is Los Angeles in 1961, when author P.L. Travers (the sublime Emma Thompson) visits the Disney studios to collaborate on a script to a Mary Poppins movie that she hadn't yet relinquished the rights to make. The second is turn of the century Australia, where young Helen Goff grows up adoring her alcoholic father (played with such a delicate, endearing sadness by the always underrated Colin Farrell) and distanced from her suicidal mother. The scenes in California are mostly humorous, with the obstinate and opinionated Travers wreaking havoc on Disney's creative team. She insists that the color red be left out of the film, that Mr. Banks shave his mustache, that Dick Van Dyke has to go, and that, under no circumstances, should there be any of Walt Disney's "silly cartoons" in the picture.

Colin Farrell's sad, puppy-dog eyes are the break out stars of this movie. 

As the film goes on and spends more time on Travers' unhappy childhood, it becomes painfully clear that she has her reasons for clinging so desperately to the characters that she created. Emma Thompson has never been better than she is in this film (admittedly, she is almost always good). In the hands of a less capable actress, the adult Travers would have come across as a cold, unfeeling British caricature. Thompson plays her as a woman with a tempest of emotions raging underneath her exterior, beaten down by the necessity of neglect. If anyone at the movies this year is begging for catharsis, it's this P.L. Travers person. 

Of course, that doesn't happen without the perquisite spoonful of sugar. In this case, that is a trip to Disneyland (filmed at the actual Disneyland! Dressed up in 60's accoutrements!) with its very namesake.

The carousel horse that Emma Thompson is sitting on in this scene really is named "Jingles". She was rededicated in 2008 to honor Julie Andrews. Though not visible in this picture, her saddle is adorned with the letters "JA" and a picture of Mary Poppins with her famous umbrella. 

Walt himself is only a secondary player in this film, but what little we see of him both surprised and impressed me. This is the first glimpse we've been allowed of Walt the Man. He tosses back Scotch! Gets angry! Curses! Smokes a cigarette! Tom Hanks embodies him with the same tinkle-eyed and playful spirit that we've come to expect from Walt Disney, but there's something else here, too. There's the unmistakable scent of desperation. In real life, this man was used to getting what he wanted and there was nothing he wanted more than Mary Poppins, especially after being told no for twenty years. He cajoled and manipulated his way into getting this movie made, and it goes without saying that it was the greatest film he ever did. Ultimately, Walt was so passionate about it (they even played "Feed the Birds" at his funeral), that it's not hard to believe, as the film supposes, it must have  been somehow connected to his strained relationship with his own father.

I've read quite a few criticisms of this film for its historical inaccuracies. And for its portrayal of Travers and the many aspects of her life that went without mention (her estranged adopted son, her fascination with mysticism, her unconventional romantic relationships with both men and women) and it all seems so unnecessary to me. Saving Mr. Banks simply wasn't meant to be about any of that. It is a sweet and emotionally resonant film about the powerful nature of storytelling and the ways that the stories we tell can change the world- for other people and, most importantly, for ourselves.

Wait! I forgot to tell you how adorable Paul Giamatti is in this movie! 

Why Nebraska is Not as Depressing as it Looks

I've never thought of Nebraska as a particularly magical place. For one, it's the ninth least populated state in the US. I think they grow a lot of corn there? I'm not entirely sure.  Like most of the middle parts of the country,  Nebraska is merely a pit stop on the way to some infinitely more interesting place.

But it's also the setting for Alexander Payne's latest Oz meets Cervantes addition to his brilliant body of work.

Three minutes, Macgruber!

The premise for Nebraska is deceptively simple. Prickly old alcoholic Woody Grant (Bruce Dern, in an Oscar-worthy performance) thinks he's won a million dollars in a sweepstakes and wants to go to Lincoln, Nebraska to collect his winnings. After some convincing, his sort-of-a-loser son David (Will Forte, the guy who played MacGruber),  agrees to drive him. Everyone knows that it's a scam, except for Woody himself, who believes with an almost religious fervor that the money is his to collect. "Why would they say that if it wasn't true?" he asks so earnestly that your heart actually aches for him.

The two men wind up in Hawthorne for the better part of the film, the small Nebraska town where Woody grew up. And, of course, their journey is ultimately more about their own relationship than it is about the prize at the end.

Forget Gosling, Bruce Dern is a real lady killer in this one.

There are many times when the film ventures into predictable territory, but Dern plays Woody with a tremendous sensibility that never fails to be compelling. It's not only his rambling gait and his hunched over posture, but his eyes, which perfectly capture that wide-open, almost child-like naivety that often returns to humans in the twilight of their life. Like Don Quixote, he believes his own delusions so whole-heartedly that, much like the town of Hawthorne, it's easy to get swept up in them. And it's damn near impossible not to root for him, even with all of his obvious flaws. 

Shooting the movie in black and white was, I imagine, a huge risk. But it's a risk that ultimately pays off. It lends the grim, Midwestern atmosphere a haunted, apocalyptic vibe. Particularly in Hawthorne, you feel like you are staring into the ruins of some long forgotten civilization. This isn't a thriving culture, but a way of life that is dying out forever. As Woody tours the house where he grew up, with his two sons and his smack-talking wife, he might as well be leading a tour through a particularly decrepit museum. 

This is exactly what my house looks like on most holidays, plaid and all.

It would get unbearable after a while, if it didn't lead into one of the greatest pay-offs of any movie that I've seen this year. 

Alexander Payne's last film, The Descendants, was full of vibrant colors, beautiful Hawaiian beachscapes, and charming ukulele music (as well as a thoroughly depressing story about a man taking his wife off of life support- but you know). I can't imagine a less likely follow-up than the bleak visuals of Nebraska. But Payne is one of this generations most effortless directors, oscillating back and forth from uproarious humor to quiet devastation. Nebraska has plenty of both. And, at any rate, the film itself is never as bleak as it's stark black and white visuals would suggest. This is ultimately a story about redemption and it's a good one which culminates in the most thrilling, slow-moving truck ride through a Midwestern town that I have ever seen. 

Why You Should Feel all the Feelings with 12 Years A Slave

I wasn't sure that I wanted to see 12 Years a Slave. I knew that it was probably an excellent film and that it was going to be nominated for all of the awards this year, but I just wasn't sure that I could stomach it. I also wasn't sure that I wanted to subject myself to two hours of movie that would ultimately make me feel horrible about a past that I can never truly understand. 

But curiosity (as well as an obsessive need to bite at every single bit of Oscar bait) won out and I wound up spending a Saturday night at the movies, in a theater full of people who were sobbing as loudly as I was. 

And I am very glad that I did because 12 Years a Slave is not only the best film I've ever seen about slavery. It's one of the best films I've ever seen about anything. 

It begins with the familiar text; “this film is based on a true story”. I’ve seen those words so many times that I normally wouldn’t think about them. But 12 Years A Slave isn’t just some approximation of America’s most terrifying institution. It’s the very real, very true story of a man named Solomon Northrop, who lived in Syracuse with his family and woke up one morning to discover that he’d been chained to the floor of a dungeon. It sounds more like a setup for a horror film than a thing that actually happened in the real world. Nevertheless, free men like Northrop were kidnapped from the North and sold into slavery.  Solomon Northrop was lucky enough to escape and wrote a book detailing his experiences, but how many more died quietly in captivity, taking their secrets with them to the grave?

Michael Fassbender is good at making friends.

It's one of the many things that 12 Years leaves you to ponder. 

There are many brutal scenes of people being whipped, raped, separated from their children, but it is the quiet moments in between those things that are even more impactful. Within the first five minutes, Solomon is beaten by a man with a board and it is awful, but not as awful as the moment afterwards, when he removes his shirt and you get just a glimpse of the ripped bloodstains on the back of it. Or the way he pleads with the man to let him keep his clothing because it was a gift from his wife and the man insists that it’s just “rags and tatters.” The violence in itself is devastating, but the existential reality is even more so. Solomon must silence his intellect if he wants to survive. He must hold back his talents. No one can even know that he can read or write.

I can't wait until the awards, when I can finally learn how to pronounce Chiwetel.

Music plays a key role in 12 Years a Slave, from Solomon's fiddle-playing to the aforementioned funeral scene to the cruel taunts of a particularly brutal overseer. So does the actual landscape of the deep South. There are so many extended shots that revel in the Louisiana wilderness where the movie was filmed. The plantations themselves are physically beautiful, which only elevates the more horrific scenes, including one where Solomon hangs from a noose for an entire day, while the surrounding people go on with their lives. 

So much of this is just an incredible accomplishment for Steve McQueen. He shows a remarkable amount of restraint as a director. This is not a film that attempts to lecture or shame anyone. And while there are certainly elements of 12 Years that are shocking, it never succumbs to sensationalism, which is an achievement on its own. It does not feel the need to preach to anyone, because there is no one underlying message here. Slavery is bad? Okay. We all knew that. 12 Years is the first film about slavery that is brave enough to say: “This is the way things were and that’s it.”

Okay, Miss Alfre. I see you. 

By the end, when a man shows up calling Solomon by his actual name, we- the viewers- and Solomon himself barely even register it. Everything but the plantation feels so long ago and so far away. I’m not ashamed to admit that I spend the last twenty minutes of the movie in tears and the very end caused me to sob. I wasn’t the only one. On the walk back to the car, in the freezing cold, my brother said to me, “Why were you crying? It had a happy ending.”

“But it didn’t!” I said and the tears started coming again. Because, yes, Solomon Northrop is a free man. He leaves the plantation, but he also leaves behind countless others who will never know a life outside of slavery. Patsy clings to him like a life raft, but he makes no promises to save her. This isn't Django and Solomon is not going to return and kill all of the white people and Sam Jackson and rescue Olivia Pope from Leo's evil clutches. This is the most painful part of the history of our nation. And like those twelve years that Solomon spent away from his family, we will never be able to take back those atrocities.

I expect that in the coming days and weeks, I’m going to continue to digest this film. I’m going to think of other things that I really liked about it and I’m going to maybe think of things that I didn’t like as much. But I will say this: If you are on the fence about going to see 12 Years A Slave, don’t be.