The Best of 2011

Strange Mercy, St, Vincent
Since her debut album, Marry Me, St. Vincent’s Annie Clark has matured in multiple ways. 2007’s Marry Me provided sweet love notes coupled with pleasant, but forgettable, pop riffs. 2009’s Actor is a beautifully executed pop album—successful, but its lyrical content is nearly anonymous, leaving somewhat hollow sounds and words. With this year’s Strange Mercy, though, Annie Clark stood naked for her fans and critics: finally honest, personal, and accountable. 2011 marked Clark’s 28th birthday, which, for her artistry, meant an inevitable acknowledgment of adulthood’s irreversibility, responsibility, and accountability. Strange Mercy is full of allusions to Clark’s childhood, past loves, and increasing age. This album is as abundant in colorful riffs and always-pounding guitar solos as it is with hints of heartbreak in the present day. Clark has always portrayed herself as a confident, carefree artist, but on Strange Mercy, she shed her tough exterior in exchange for honesty and introspection. With this album, Clark became a self-realized, self-aware, and most importantly, emotional musician. While tracks from Strange Mercy may not be as consistently danceable and balanced as those from Actor, Clark’s heartbreaking honesty and moments of personal truth make up the difference. Solos in tracks “Surgeon” and “Northern Lights” reveal a more experimental and ever-improving side of Clark’s artistry. Strange Mercy may seem transparent at first listen, but the album is more complex and impressive than meets the eye.
-Lauralee Yeary

Helplessness Blues, Fleet Foxes
You know that light, beautiful, and lucid dream state that you fall into during the moments between your alarm clock’s ringing and the time when you absolutely must get out of bed? That’s the only way I can think to describe the music on Fleet Foxes second album, Helplessness Blues. Each song’s relaxed but pensive melodies and lyrics are hindered only by the knowledge that each will eventually come to an end. After releasing a critically and audience-acclaimed self-titled debut album three years ago, Fleet Floxes left fans and critics alike eagerly awaiting the release of a second album, anticipating greatness – but aware that lightning often does not strike twice. In this case, the lightning hit quite perfectly, and the haunting harmonies and intricate lyrics that Foxes delivered in their debut album were even more refined in Helplessness Blues. The first track on the album, “Montezuma”, repeats the lyrics, “oh man, what I used to be” over and over, as if easing the listener into the new album by reminding them of past songs but also introducing new features to the band’s already-complex harmonies and instrumental breaks. In “The Shrine/An Argument”, for instance, the latter half of the song breaks from lilting melodies reminiscent of a southern hymnal to an avant-garde saxophone rift, and “Grown Ocean” features refreshing sections flute breaks. These instrumental additions, along with Fleet Foxes’ signature melodies and trademark lyrical genius, add a welcome spice to their second album that cements Fleet Foxes as one of the most innovative and talented folk bands in the current music sphere. -Kirsty Clark

Kaputt, Destroyer
In January, Dan Bejar released perfection in the form of Kaputt. His nine-track album strays from typical pop and creates a more romantic, memorable atmosphere. Infusing brass, female ambiance, and stretched melodies contributed to making Kaputt one of, if not the, best albums of 2011. Kaputt redefines ideas of modern pop, or rather, reminisces to decades before, echoing themes from the ‘70s. Bejar’s earlier albums, such as Rubies, also have incredibly strong points, but none are as cohesive as Kaputt. Bejar manages to make complexity sound effortless and light as he creates worlds within tracks. Kaputt bounces back and forth from near jazz quality to rubato ambiance. This album greatly succeeds in not only creating art that is wisely memorable, instead of emptily repetitive, but is also adorned with multiple layers of discovery and modest proclamation. Bejar’s lyrics speak of everything from past days chasing women for empty pleasures to slyly criticizing modern America underneath pleasant synth beats and gentle pop waves. Bejar’s genius comes from his ability to evoke so many contrasting emotions within surface level “good” music. Upon listening to this album, none can deny its easy listening quality, but when decoding begins, entire layers and worlds are discovered within tracks. The gem of Kaputt lies within closing track, “Bay of Pigs”. This ambiguous track may at first seem misplaced, but provides an incredible finish to an incredible album. Somehow more multi-faceted than the entire album combined, “Bay of Pigs” explores Bejar’s dreams and nightmares in delayed drum entrances and ambient noise as Bejar dreamily washes through lyrics. Kaputt could almost be called a masterpiece of pop and perfectly-executed ideas, easily reserving its spot as one of the best albums of the year. -Lauralee Yeary

Goblin, Tyler, the Creator
Everyone knows calling Vladamir Nabakov a pedophile is ludicrous – the accusation conflates the author with his art. And calling Tyler, the Creator a misogynist homophobe is just as daft. Goblin is more than wanting to “rape a pregnant bitch to tell [his] friends [he] had a threesome,” it’s a disturbing, dark exploration of a loner, with low self-esteem, slowly losing his mind. And it’s got the best beats on any hip-hop record today. Denounce Tyler all you want for threatening to “kill those kids with dads and moms” or “shoving blunt wraps in bitches’ ovaries,” but in this dark age of hip-hop when even ‘Lil Wayne can’t make a song without a sample, Tyler and his Odd Future consortium are the only group producing raw, original beats that hit with a deep, gratifying bass. Try to listen to “Yonkers” without your stomach flipping over with every snap of the snare –impossible. And when coupled with the tenor of Tyler’s voice, every empty threat or violent fantasy takes a certain ominous undertone that leaves you amazed at the final product, but a little bit scared. Oh, but one more thing, somehow despite all the heaviness, his songs are, well, kind of funny. I mean, he raps about Reptar, fucking dolphins, and wanting to stab Bruno Mars in the (fucking) esophagus. C’mon, that’s hilarious. Sure, Goblin can be serious as it follows the speaker’s descent into madness, but amidst his cry for help, Tyler turns out phrases so clever and witty that you can’t help but laugh at the disarming hilarity of it all. In some ways, Tyler has legitimized and commoditized the great phenomenon of the 21st century: the Internet troll. -Kelsey Goodman

Bon Iver, Bon Iver
Justin Vernon has bid farewell to the woods of Wisconsin and all of the clichés that go along with it, at least for now. On Bon Iver, Bon Iver, the wintry, introspective folk of For Emma, Forever Ago appears only in flashes––the spare opening riffs of "Holocene," the tentative piano of "Wash.," the vaguely narrative lyrics of "Michicant." Instead, he explores; he crafts a collage of unexpected sounds that really shouldn’t blend or fuse at all––pedal steel guitar, banjo, piano, saxophone, synthesizer––and often, Vernon’s lyrics abandon story and emotion in favor of disjointed images, surreal and perhaps confusing suggestions of character and place. “Don’t you cherish me to sleep/Never keep your eyelids clippes/Hold me for the pops and clicks/I was only for the father’s crib,” Vernon sings in his distinctive falsetto on “Calgary.” Puzzling, yet oddly moving at the same time. The initial listen proves jarring, particularly the closing track, “Beth/Rest,” a brazen allusion to 80s soft rock that seems bizarre and tacky at first but with time proves cathartic––a sign of experiment and renewal, notions that flow throughout the entire album and make it worth revisiting. -Caroline Rayner