Albums of 2014: Honourable Mentions
Posted by mperry92
All through 2013, it felt as though we were living through a stonkingly good year for fresh music, with the bar set high across genres left-right-and-centre as influences bled into one another and hyperbole came thick and fast. Titles worthy of Best-of-the-Year came rushing in from all corners of the musiplex, culminating in some delightfully colourful end-of-year lists, and some of the most lavished albums of the past half-decade.
In the wake of such a prosperous year, 2014 looked ever so slightly threadbare on the horizon, with fewer forecasts for big releases, but with promises for radical curveballs generating an insistent buzz of excitement that grew with each passing month. In fact, many albums over which I was most feverish (Warpaint, All This is Yours, Seeds) fell short of expectations, with the less assuming surprises making their mark much more insistently. It’s been an odd little year. But sifting back through the past twelve months, there are diamonds peppering the mixture, and in hindsight, 2014 was of equal – if not greater – strength than 2013, with the final end-of-year reckoning providing some revelatory moments of realisation. We’ve had some good times.
So, before unveiling the Top 10 list in full, here are a clutch of honourable mentions: ten additional records which I’ve greatly enjoyed this year, and have become integral fixtures in my personal soundtrack of 2014. They’re not necessarily placed at 11-through-20 in my end-of-year list, but they are deserving of praise and playback nonetheless. In alphabetical order:
Alvvays – Alvvays
I will gravitate towards peppy, dreamy-eyed guitar pop like a bear to honey, and the début from this Toronto quintet whoops and sighs in all the right places. On an album spring-loaded with jangly melodies and the requisite fixation on clashing hearts, the MVP in Alvvays‘ arsenal is Molly Rankin, whose deft command of that particular brand of swooning, keening vocals wins me over every time. She leads from the front in a record which counterbalances its sweetness with a crunchy undertow, indicating a firm steeliness behind the lighter-than-air earworms. The results are resplendent gems like the bouncy ‘Adult Diversion’ and the disarmingly lovely ‘Party Police’.
Beck – Morning Phase
My knowledge of Beck is far from encyclopaedic, but it’d be clear even to a non-hardcore fan that Morning Phase represents a sonic comedown for an artist renowned for fidgety reinventions. This time around, however, the shift is more akin to a personal (and musical) regeneration; the sound of coming to terms with some great burden. The sombre strings of ‘Cycle’ usher in a gentle, heavy-lidded album dripping with melancholy, studded with some confessional triumphs along the way. Syrupy it may be in places, but there’s a clarity and conviction to Morning Phase which keeps me under Beck’s spell, right through to the twanging conclusion of ‘Waking Light’. Roll on, perdedor, roll on.
Caribou – Our Love
Initially, I was a little nonplussed by Dan Snaith’s sixth album under the Caribou moniker. For me, it doesn’t quite pack the same punch as 2010’s Swim, and the quality of its constituent components occasionally wavers, especially in its mid-section. That said, I was conscious of its keepers from the get-go, and these saving graces are powerful enough to propel Our Love higher in my estimation. ‘Second Chance’ is a blissfully straightforward banger, the title track’s careful mutation retains its ability to surprise, and in the irrepressibly beatific ‘Can’t Do Without You’, Snaith has unleashed perhaps his finest work thus far.
East India Youth – Total Strife Forever
In 2012, William Doyle downed tools in Doyle & The Fourfathers, and shouldered complete autonomy for his first solo album; the sessions for which became something of a long slog. Yet his toil was undeniably worthwhile, as this year, the album’s word-of-mouth success saw him notch up increasingly hallowed festival sets as well as a Mercury Prize nomination. The album itself is an impressive construct; a bold collage of full-blooded electronica, icy ambience, and remarkably catchy vocal refrains. Even the stitches where the record hangs loosely accentuate the excitement surrounding Doyle’s talent: there is much to expand upon here, and it’ll be thrilling to see how Doyle advances from this launchpad onwards. [Full review here.]
Flying Lotus – You’re Dead!
If I dived into Steven Ellison’s fifth album with no knowledge of its name or song titles, then I’d probably respond to the end product completely differently. But thanks to those irreverently pulpy headings and some jarring online promos, You’re Dead! thoroughly mainlines the mystery, wonder, and sensory atonality signposted by that playfully brazen title. Tumbling through You’re Dead! is disorienting, unpredictable, and cohesive all at once, with Ellison’s smash-and-grab approach to free jazz, g-funk, and everything in-between both technically and aesthetically mind-blowing. Unlike the twinkling sumptuousness of Until the Quiet Comes, everything passes in freefall on You’re Dead, and the experience is dizzyingly addictive.
Future Islands – Singles
As gorgeous as it can be, the music of Future Islands is only half of the story. When an act goes interstellar after years of steadfast dedication to The Long Haul, they seem much more able to withstand the spotlight’s gaze than the poor newbies pounced upon by the bloodthirsty music press. As with many other long-awaited success stories before them, the members of Future Islands seized their moment with aplomb, but any threat of hyperbole was already nixed thanks to a cracking album of simple, synth-kissed alt-pop. There are moments of real lushness sprinkled throughout Singles, but it’s Samuel T. Herring who gives these songs the oomph required to scrape the skies; his pure conviction giving these tunes license to soar.
Grouper – Ruins
Hushed and solitary, Ruins is an unflinchingly stark work of ambience, reputedly conjured by Liz Harris with nothing but a 4-track, a stereo microphone, and an upright piano. In its fuggy, bare-bones approach, it evokes the cavernous atmosphere of its recording setting (a ruin-pocked coastal town in southwestern Portugal), yet the pooled sounds are spacious enough to allow listeners’ imaginations to plug the gaps. The omnipresent hiss of tape and the palpable limitations of the recording apparatus indicate the bald isolation at the record’s core, with each piece drifting into the next like a cycle of snowflakes. When the vocals can be plucked out from the haze, they’re often ghostlike themselves, wispy in sound and context: “Every time I see you / I have to pretend I don’t,” Harris breathes during ‘Clearing’. The entire listen is mesmerising, able to creep under the skin as something simultaneously haunting and comforting.
Kate Tempest – Everybody Down
In an illustrious career that already spans several mediums, Kate Tempest has succeeded in realigning the properties of poetry as something malleable, lending her hand in bridging the increasingly blurry divide between slam poetry, novelistic cohesion, and hip-hop. On Everybody Down, she proves her mettle as a remarkable talent, spinning a narrative around three principle characters whose lives become entangled after a number of chance encounters and dubious choices. The drama that unfolds is suitably juicy, but Tempest’s tenderness and her tangible sympathy for these people keeps the album’s heartbeat prominent throughout. While the backing beats are a little tinny, they work well in underscoring Tempest herself, whose precise, wonderfully woven wordplay is given ample room to dazzle.
Perfume Genius – Too Bright
With his third album as Perfume Genius, Mike Hadreas expanded upon his familiar fusing of fragility and boldness by stretching the two extremes further than before. The delicacy is none-more quavering, yet a furious defiance shudders throughout Too Bright. This dichotomy is unpacked cleanly and brilliantly on the opening pairing of ‘I Decline’ and ‘Queen’: the sparseness of the former blown away by the goosebump-raising glam of the latter, which stomps, huffs, and glitters in a perfect crystallisation of Hadreas’ anguished path to triumph. The remainder of Too Bright is studded with such brilliance, encompassing torchlit balladry (‘All Along’), booming ’80s soul (‘Fool, ‘Longpig’), and shrieking freakouts (‘My Body’, ‘Grid’). It’s appalling that the world is still not liberated from the intolerance against which Hadreas protests, but the man’s growing confidence and extroversion are harbingers of a beautiful ascendancy.
Real Estate – Atlas
I reviewed Atlas soon after it dropped in springtime, and my quibbles with it then still largely stand. I find the New Jersey group’s patently ‘plain’ approach a touch too conservative at times, but paradoxically, that’s the entire point of their endeavours: to echo the meandering, unassuming nature of suburbia. Ultimately, the band deserve props for sewing together a distinctive and immaculate signature sound on Atlas, evoking the atmosphere of sunbeams filtering through deserted streets. The wonderful opener ‘Had to Hear’ sets the precedent that Atlas runs with for 40 sweetly sad minutes: yearning, warmth, and loneliness, channelled through glittering jangle-pop. It’s rarely electrifying, but when it succeeds, Atlas absolutely nails the bittersweet restlessness that comes with frittered time, and the effect is wholly transporting.
And lo, there they go – every one worthy of a listen. Several of the albums listed here came agonisingly close to cracking this year’s Top 10, but hair-splitting has always been central to this list malarkey, and it just reaffirms the vastness of riches that 2014 had to offer. Return tomorrow to see my take on the record that just pipped these to the post, as the countdown gets underway. Thanks for reading!
Posted on January 5, 2015, in End-of-Year Lists, The Music World and tagged Albums of 2014, Alvvays, Beck, Caribou, East India Youth, Flying Lotus, Future Islands, Grouper, Honourable Mentions, Kate Tempest, Perfume Genius, Real Estate. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.