Albums Of The Year 2008 Part 2: 50-1

Here's the concluding part of this year's list. Comments, as always, are actively encouraged, even if it's only to quibble with what I've left out. Positive further recommendations are always appreciated too.

50. Boris – Smile (Southern Lord)
The extent to which ‘Smile’ differs from Boris’ previous output has perhaps been overstated. Yes, the opening salvos are more melodic, perhaps even pretty by the group’s usual sludgy standards, but the rest could hardly be described as accessible. With guest appearances from Ghost’s Michio Kurihara (with whom the group recorded an entire collaborative album last year) and Stephen O’ Malley from Sunn O ))), much of the record is blisteringly intense. Whilst vocals now feature on every track, there’s also a heightened interest in sound and its power to distort, disturb and confuse. It’s a shame that the international edition omits a key track from the Japanese version – try and seek out an import if you can.

49. Scorch Trio – Brolt! (Rune Grammofon)
Raoul Bjorkenheim’s frenzied guitar shredding helps make this just about the most frenetic, unhinged recording in my 2008 list. In some ways it seems defiantly unmusical – dealing more in outbursts than in clear phrases. But this is a systematic form of communication in itself, and the music is thrilling in its abrasive urgency and cathartic effect. Bjorkenheim features again higher in this list.

48. Outhouse – Outhouse (Babel)
Outhouse, the flagship band of London’s wonderful Loop Collective of musicians, looked for a while like the brightest hope for British jazz. Yet a wave of publicity and good will seemed to dissipate slightly when this album finally surfaced. Perhaps it’s just that the album took too long to emerge, and that some of the compositions had already surfaced on the band’s initial EP. Still, it seems like they’ve failed to capitalise – and this is a shame, because ‘Outhouse’ is a tremendous debut, full of fiery, gutsy playing, particularly from Dave Smith, who’s drumming is inventive and playful. Robin Fincker continues to draw a weird and wonderful array of sounds from his saxophones.

47. Max Tundra – Parallax Error Beheads You (Domino)
This wonderful set of quirky, frequently hilarious pop music is massively entertaining. It combines archness and irony with vigour and ambition. This is some of the most intricate programmed music you’re likely to hear and it must have required meticulous and patient effort in its production. The melodies are often every bit as imaginative as the stuttering rhythms and the rough edges are brilliantly contrasted by Tundra’s saccharine voice.

46.Grace Jones – Hurricane (Wall of Sound)
It’s always great to have pop artists as flamboyant and charismatic as Jones, but few could have expected her comeback album to be quite this good. Mostly, it eschews crass attempts at modernisation in favour of concentrating on what she did best in her halcyon days – that sinister, slinky, reggae-infused groove. Occasionally it veers into darker, Massive Attack-inspired territory (particularly on the terrifying ‘Corporate Cannibal’) but it manages to retain its distinctive personality and sense of humour in the process. The personal and autobiographical nature of some songs mark it out from Jones’ back catalogue – an attempt to break away from the idea of Jones as a mechanical, perennially detached and disguised figure.

45. Matana Roberts – The Chicago Project (Central Control)
More Chicago jazz shenanigans, this time on a gritty and intense workout imbued with a spiritual quality throughout. It’s an iconoclastic record whereby structure is toyed with imaginatively (improvisations are often linked by hints and snippets of themes or melodies) but it’s also appropriately reverent towards the music’s legacy. The group sounds liberated by Roberts’ overwhelming presence as a leader. The music is busy and agitated, but also utterly thrilling.

44. Pat Metheny Trio – Day Trip (Nonesuch)
Metheny’s trio with the swinging bassist Christian McBride and fluid drummer Antonio Sanchez is a group of heavyweight musicians but they manage to make the compositions here sound light and airy. This is one of Metheny’s more immediate and approachable efforts – not as sophisticated as his collaborations with Lyle Mays, but predicated on an uncommon musical empathy and a highly developed melodic sensibility.

43. Joan As Policewoman – To Survive (PIAS)
This graceful, elegant collection of modified torch songs (the emotion is present but the theatricality has been muted) shares something with Feist’s ‘The Reminder’ in its insight into human relationships and naked vulnerability. Joan Wasser’s writing is deceptively simple – these songs are beautiful, subtle and have real depth, as well as a magnetic pull that draws us right to the core of what it means to be human.

42. Matmos – Supreme Balloon (Matador)
A baffling omission from even the more adventurous end of year lists, this is perhaps the most compositionally adventurous of Matmos albums. In veering away from particular conceits (there’s no sampling of surgical procedures or sexual congress here), they have produced something free of marketing gimmicks, but which retains their core musical virtues. ‘Supreme Balloon’ is their most mysterious creation yet – crafted from a range of sonically arresting vintage instruments. It’s a thoroughly absorbing listen, one in which ideas are developed to their logical conclusions.

41. Goldmund – The Malady of Elegance (Touch)
A collection of sombre, dignified skeletal piano pieces, this is one of those records that attests to the potential for simple statements to be the most profound. The music moves as slowly as one of Bela Tarr’s infamous tracking shots – and with a similar grace and poise. The overall effect is both mesmerising and moving.

40. Marilyn Mazur and Jan Garbarek – Elixir (ECM)
I’m sometimes a little agnostic about Garbarek, but this record is a sly and magical concoction. Marilyn Mazur plays a whole wealth of percussion, including the now infamous Hang drum. At the very least, therefore, this record is notable for exposing the gimmicky limitations of the Mercury nominated Portico Quartet. Of course, it’s much more than that though – a record that makes duo playing sound rich and full, with some wonderfully expressive performances. The tracks are often brief and sketchy – but combined they make for a compelling and soothing whole.

39. Leila – Blood, Looms and Blooms (Warp)
If a couple of tracks had been excised from this, it would have been every bit as brilliant an album as ‘Like Weather’ or ‘Courtesy of Choice’. As it stands, it’s yet another statement of Leila’s peerless ability to combine unusual, homemade music with original vocal contributions. Just when you thought that there could be no more interesting Beatles covers – she produces a radical and striking interpretation of ‘Norwegian Wood’ for good measure. Immersing yourself in this music is like entering a fairytale world of magic and foreboding. Why her live set supporting Bjork was so confrontational and ultimately boring when her recorded music is so rich and fascinating makes for a somewhat baffling conundrum.

38. Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – Lie Down In The Light/Is It The Sea? (Domino)
OK, so I’ve cheated twice in this year’s list by banding two albums by the same artist together. Whilst he can be contrary and frustrating, Will Oldham still manages to be remarkably prolific. Whilst a new Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy would once have been expected to reach the upper echelons of the MOJO or Uncut polls, ‘Lie Down In The Light’ was completely ignored this year. It’s actually one of his best albums, delivered with a newfound sophistication and stateliness. The live album is more raucous and attacking, and features yet more unexpected reworkings of Oldham classics thanks to the irreverent backing provided by Scottish group Harem Scarem.

37. Polar Bear – Polar Bear (Tinted Angel)
The lukewarm reception to this album from some of UK jazz’s most reputable commentators suggests that Seb Rochford’s group are now being taken for granted. I think there’s a strong argument that this record, despite being overlong and unimaginatively titled, is the band’s finest album to date. The electronics of Leafcutter John now play a much more significant role – in conversation and sometimes in argument with the glorious saxophone duelling of Mark Lockheart and Pete Wareham. Rochford’s own playing remains groovy and defiantly subtle – he has made a name for himself as a drummer without acrobatics or showy virtuosity – just meaningful playing that informs and supports his radical, fascinating compositions. That a number of these pieces seem informed by personal experience adds to the record’s considerable charm.

36. Dave Holland Sextet – Pass It On (Dare2/Universal Classics)
I must admit to having been slightly surprised to find this coming out on top in the Jazzwise albums of the year poll. This was partially as a result of their usual preference for hip young gunslingers, but also because it initially seemed like another excellent set from a composer and performer who has never made a bad album. It mostly revisits previously recorded material, dating back as far as 1985, but it is now presented by a new group, with only Robin Eubanks remaining from the previous quintet. The major differences come with the addition of pianist Mulgrew Miller and drummer Eric Harland, who plays with an astonishing level of flexibility and dynamism. This imbues the group with a fresh impetus and a new sound, whilst sustaining Holland’s familiar compositional characteristics.

35. TV On The Radio – Dear Science (4AD)
It took me a while to ‘get’ this album whilst everyone seemed to be salivating over it. Initially it seemed like another rather calculated attempt to move into Prince-emulating territory, although further listens reveal that the unique qualities of Tunde Adebimpe and Kyp Malone’s songwriting and sound are still present. It’s unfortunate that much of the attention falls on to Dave Sitek (especially when his production work for other artists doesn’t always represent the midas touch many associate with him) – it’s really Adebimpe and Malone’s voices that make this music so refreshing and mysterious.

34. Kasai All Stars – In the 7th Moon, the Chief Turned Into a Swimming Fish and Ate The Head of His Enemy By Magic (Congotronics/Crammed Discs)
For those enchanted by Konono No. 1 and their astounding thumb piano music comes a further project from the Congotronics staple – a collective of 25 musicians. All are from the Kasai region but apparently come from a variety of ethnic groups. The result is a cultural mix that makes this exciting and striking music. The group inevitable create a fuller, denser sound than Konono, and much of the interest comes from their head-spinning rhythms.

33. Django Bates – Spring is Here, Shall We Dance? (Lost Marble)
Django Bates continues to polarise opinion in the jazz world – there are those who find him intolerably whimsical and those who admire his rhythmic and harmonic sophistication more uncritically. I have little problem with his quirky humour, and his insistence that adventurous music can be sophisticated, challenging and entertaining all at the same time. Bates remains a first class arranger whose music is full of quirks, tricks and unexpected transitions. With all the larking about, Bates also has some serious points to make here – about both personal freedom and civic responsibility.

32. Erykah Badu – New Amerykah Part 1: 4th World War (Universal)
Sadly, not much in the way of R&B or hip hop has really come under my radar this year. Whilst I wouldn’t claim to be an expert in either area, this is still quite an unusual situation. This latest album from Erykah Badu strikes me as exceptional – a record that has pushed her to a high level of creativity. It’s a defiant, politically charged statement, full of themes it might be easy to neglect in light of the election of Barack Obama. The music is also nuanced, soulful and expressive – Badu managing to avoid the mechanistic pitfalls of some contemporary soul.

31. Susanna – Flower of Evil (Rune Grammofon)
This latest collection from the dependably prolific Susanna slipped out almost unnoticed but might in fact be her best collection to date. These minimal, icily elegant cover versions will not sustain her for an entire career, but while she’s still refining her processes and delivery, every album improves on the last. The version of ‘Without You’ with Will Oldham completely transforms the song, as do the majestic interpretations of Abba’s ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’ and, more unexpectedly, Thin Lizzy’s ‘Jailbreak’. This is beautiful stuff.

30. Box – Studio 1 (Rune Grammofon)
Like the Scorch Trio album (and also featuring that group’s blistering guitarist Raoul Bjorkenheim), the Box project proved almost exhausting in its savage intensity. A supergroup brought together by filmmaker Philip Mullarkey as a film and music project, the band features the superb talents of John Zorn, Stalle Storloken (of Supersilent) and radical drummer Morten Agren. What elevates this above some of the other genre-crossing free music experiments is its occasional grasp of more pensive and reflective forms.

29. The Dodos – Visiter (Wichita)
I don’t like to advertise here, but Amazon appear to be selling this excellent record for the bargain price of £3.98 right now. I would advise readers to take advantage – as this ramshackle, clattering, spirited album is one of the most enjoyable of the year. Sounding like a less lysergic, less processed Animal Collective – The Dodos’ percussion driven music is vibrant and joyful, but also frequently aggressive and infused with the blues. The untamed momentum and yelping vocals could potentially be irritating were it not for the high quality of the songs, which are consistently arresting and infectious.

28. Hercules and Love Affair – Hercules and Love Affair (DFA/EMI)
It would take a very churlish and humourless person to resist this hugely satisfying chunk of nu-disco. It’s worth mentioning that it’s not all cheesy mirrorballs and octave bass lines though – there’s some much more unusual and subtle writing coming into play in the album’s more elusive second half. Similarly, the opening track is a quite extraordinary concoction of multi-tracked Antonys. His voice, although increasingly ubiquitous, still sounds haunting, albeit with less gravitas and more urgency in this rather different context.

27. Gnarls Barkley – The Odd Couple (Warner Bros)
As an album act, Gnarls Barkley seem to have been somewhat overlooked. ‘The Odd Couple’ didn’t exactly contain another phenomenal smash such as ‘Crazy’, but as a piece of warped, deeply unusual pop music it excelled. In ‘Who’s Gonna Save My Soul?’, a response to the death of James Brown, Cee-Lo Green crafted a modern soul classic and a song that ought to stand the test of time. Throughout, Danger Mouse’s backing tracks demonstrate a wider range of influences – including 60s psych pop, punk, folk music and punk. It’s surely one of the best albums to have come out of the mainstream in some time.

26. Flying Lotus – Los Angeles (Warp)
FlyLo would probably define himself as a hip hop artist, even though this largely instrumental music is considerably more fractured and surreal than such terminology might imply to the casual listener. There’s something ominous, foreboding, sometimes even terrifying about this music, cloaked as it is in fog and murk. It’s like entering a version of the city where the glamour has been surgically removed and only the sinister undertow remains.

25. Nico Muhly – Mothertongue (Brassland)
Nico Muhly is another Philip Glass protégé threatening to become much more interesting than his mentor (seriously – who would actually listen to Glass over Muhly or Arthur Russell?). He has made a substantial career for himself already as an arranger for the likes of Bjork, and his collaborations with Toumani Diabate and Antony and the Johnsons must have made for highlights of the Barbican’s recent concert series, although I couldn’t attend either. This work shows off his range, invoking as it does Riley, Stockhausen, early music and the folk tradition. The title track seems to string together disconnected vocal sounds to make a whole new language of its own. The guesting Sam Amidon contributes a more conventional, but no less affecting narrative. It’s a striking record, where patterns and systems help tell intriguing stories.

24. Department of Eagles – In Ear Park (4AD)
This is more than an interesting stop-gap while we wait for the next album from Daniel Rossen’s main project Grizzly Bear. It’s a fascinating, beautiful album in its own right. It has frequently been banded together with the likes of Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver as another contemporary exploration of an American folk tradition – but there’s something more theatrical and whimsical going on here, perhaps informed by psychedelia or the playful experiments of Syd Barrett. This is music full of charm and warmth with a strong helping of sugar.

23. Philip Jeck – Sand (Touch)
I only came to this album late in the year. Having had my interest in turntables piqued by Shiva Feshareki’s wondrous collaboration with Natalie Clein, I set out in search of original music using record decks as an instrument. Jeck’s work is a world away from Shiva’s rhythmic outbursts though – it’s a moody, unsettling world of scratchy, fuzzy ambience that demonstrates how versatile turntable music can be. What is particularly impressive about ‘Sand’ is the sheer emotional force of this music, even when it lacks the discernible traits of pitch, harmony and rhythm. The album as a whole has a cumulative impact that is close to overwhelming.

22. Blink – Blink (Loop)
This is one of those excellent trio albums where a group emerges that is much more than the sum of its already impressive parts. Particularly crucial to this triumphant summit is classically trained percussionist and jazz drummer Paul Clarvis, whose expressive, individual and informative playing does much more than simply gluing the group together. He pushes them into more liberated, exploratory territory. As a result, pianist Alcyona’s compositions are more interesting than those on her own album from a couple of years ago, and saxophonist Robin Fincker plays with a particularly musical intensity. Each player brings a different element to the collective and the result is a satisfying meeting of minds rather than a jarring mismatch. Blink seem to find that intriguing intersection between formal composition and free improvisation far more comfortable than many others operating in similar territory.

21. Deerhunter – Microcastle/Weird Era Cont (4AD/Kranky)
This one is less a case of cheating as Bradford Cox gave fans a little treat in the form of a bonus disc when the physical version of ‘Microcastle’ finally surfaced. The unexpected joy is that ‘Weird Era Cont’ is every bit as singular and exciting as its parent album, with plenty of weird and wonderful noises floating in and out of an eerie and disorientating mix. ‘Microcastle’ is notable for its incorporation of 50s and 60s pop influences, something which Cox has spoken about clearly, but which some critics have mistakenly chosen to downplay. Cox has not aped these forms, but rather subsumed them into his warped, outsider aesthetic. Deerhunter unsurprisingly have a loyal following, but ‘Microcastle’ gives them a strong weapon with which to break out of the indie ghetto, should the conditions be right for them to do so.

20. Elvis Costello and The Imposters – Momofuku (Lost Highway)
Why does Weller merit a space in many of the mainstream top tens, but Costello, making yet another excellent album, can barely even summon a mention? Perhaps on this occasion, it’s a result of his own mischievous engineering. Having promised in an interview with Word magazine to abandon making albums, ‘Momofuku’ appeared quite suddenly and unexpectedly as a digital release. Clearly recorded very quickly, it had a loose, spirited and rough n’ ready feel – but the songs bear the quality hallmarks of their creator, from the uncharacteristically earnest to the more predictably visceral. Costello’s voice is at its most versatile too, both raucous and emotive.

19. Vijay Iyer – Tragicomic (Sunnyside)
It’s no surprise that Vijay Iyer, whose composing and piano playing are equal parts visionary and academic, has a degree in Mathematics. He has a preference for rhythmic complexity (rock critics who think that Foals are the height of rhythmic invention need to hear this music), incorporating polyrhythms and metric modulations, but manages to soften these harsh edges with an equally strong sense of melody and harmony. As a result, this is music that sounds troubled, but which comes with an abiding faith that change is achievable. Iyer himself says, with a pomposity usually the preserve of a Steve Coleman or Keith Jarrett-esque auteur: “A tragicomic outlook can ease our pains of metamorphosis and help us dream the next phase into being.” It’s somewhat clumsily expressed, but the gist of his argument is sound – it’s important to provide levity in even the toughest of times.

18. Erik Friedlander – Broken Arm Trio (Skipstone)
At Trinity College of Music’s Open Day this year, I overheard a conversation and found myself compelled to interject. One young potential undergraduate made the bold and somewhat ill-informed claim that there were ‘no jazz Cellists’. I first pointed out that we had an impressive jazz Cellist right here in London in the form of Ben Davis of Basquiat Strings and Oriole. I then also pointed out that there were other Cellists elsewhere passionately dedicated to expanding the language of an already uniquely versatile instrument – Fred Lonberg-Holm and Erik Friedlander particularly. It’s always a joy to come across a musician for the first time and then discover they’ve produced a wealth of material already. This was the case for me when I first encountered Friedlander’s music last year. This trio date with bassist Trevor Dunn and drummer Mike Sarin is sometimes bouncy and jubilant, sometimes sober and deeply tasteful. It consistently maintains a commitment to exploring the range of acoustic timbre and in exploring the possibilities of playful rhythmic interplay. It’s a total joy to listen to, and one of the finest unsung jazz releases of the year.

17. Curios – Closer (Impure)
Pianist Tom Cawley seems like a liberated artist now. He’s absconded from Acoustic Ladyland to focus on his own trio, winners of the Best Band Award at the BBC Jazz Awards. Their second album is both playful and contemplative, beautifully controlled and a wonderful showcase of collective empathy and interaction. Cawley has a delightful touch, and an impressive range of sound. Drummer Josh Blackmore is a prodigious talent, managing to combine fearsome dexterity with a clear musical mind. Even at their most serene, the group are completely engaging.

16. Vampire Weekend – Vampire Weekend (XL)
Vampire Weekend could easily turn out to be another Strokes (knock out three albums that are basically the same and then end up with nowhere to go). But what they have in abundance that some other US indie prospects lack is a sense of fun. The focus on Ivy League campus politics won’t sustain an entire career – but this album’s geeky lyrics are enjoyable enough when taken in isolation. Musically, it’s simple, direct and immediate, making thorough and effective use of its ‘world music’ influences. Bafflingly, everyone keeps barking on about it being influenced by Paul Simon – surely Talking Heads is the more obvious and appropriate reference point for this kind of African-tinged angular post-punk? Vampire Weekend stand out from the crowd simply through having written a set of really excellent songs.

15. Vandermark 5 – Beat Reader (Atavistic)
Here’s that other superb Jazz Cellist, Fred Lonberg-Holm, adding depth and texture to the weird and wonderful music of saxophonist Ken Vandermark. Vandermark dedicates each tune to another artist, not necessarily musicians, and there’s a strong sense of a broader intellectual process at work here that goes beyond the act of the spontaneous statement of ideas. The group is relentless and unforgiving, but also one where sounds and effects are carefully juxtaposed. The result is a music that can be wild but which also comes with its own rigorous internal logic.

14. Brian Blade and the Fellowship Band – Season of Changes (Verve)
Brian Blade is a majestic drummer whose broad range of experience leads him to produce unpretentious music that communicates directly. As part of the radical group that has regenerated Wayne Shorter’s artistry, he has been partially responsible for some of the most important music of the past two decades. Some have bemoaned the fact that ‘Season Of Changes’ is uncharacteristically concise for a jazz release, but its brevity does not mean that it is slight. In fact, this seems like a lesson in how to produce detailed, composed music, with space for lyrical improvisation that is also accessible and immediate. Blade’s experience playing drums for songwriters such as Bob Dylan and Emmylou Harris seems to have directed him towards an appreciation of simple forms – some of these pieces are little more than developed melodies, but they work because of their spare beauty. Elsehwhere, the frontline players merge together with impressive accuracy, and the fluency of the playing is exciting. In its movement from righteous grooving to reflective tranquillity, ‘Season of Changes’ packs a wide range of feeling into its tight timescale.

13. Fleet Foxes – Fleet Foxes (Bella Union)
Were someone to do a poll of polls for 2008, this would most likely emerge as the overall critics’ favourite. I have no problem with this – for all the historic comparisons to Crosby, Stills and Nash or the contemporary references to My Morning Jacket, Fleet Foxes seem like one of the revelations of the year for their ability to forge their own sonic space. Neither of those bands ever explored the possibilities of baroque and medieval influences to quite the extent that FF incorporate them here. The critical emphasis is always going to be on those wonderful harmonies, which imbue the music with a strong sense of the spiritual and transcendent but it’s the music that actually interests me more. The arrangements are so much more ambitious than most rock bands of this nature can muster.

12. Bill Frisell – History, Mystery (Nonesuch)
Frisell is a dependable artist with a singular style that always sounds unique regardless of the varying contexts in which he locates himself. History Mystery is a sprawling double set resulting from two separate commissions, one for music to soundtrack a Public Radio series, the other for a collaborative work with a comic book illustrator. If anything, it’s a broad summary of his career preoccupations, incorporating original composition, Malian desert blues and interpretations from the American songbook. Much of it was recorded live, which judging by this and the equally impressive ‘East/West’ set, may well be the best environment for capturing Frisell’s qualities now. The larger octet provides a rich and full sound, but somehow sustains the kind of spaciness necessary for Frisell’s slow, ruminative and unshowy phrases to shine. Frisell is a key figure in contemporary American music – perhaps this is best attested by the peerless reading of Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’ contained here – a hopeful prophecy now fulfilled by the election of Barack Obama.

11. Benoit Pioulard – Temper (Kranky)
Benoit Pioulard’s ‘Precis’ was a fascinating but slightly sketchy debut. ‘Temper’ expands on the premise, making something that is both more accessible and more substantial than its promising predecessor. There’s still some kind of bucolic, naturalistic charm about this record, but its processed digital sounds make it feel slippery and unusual too. Any lyrics are almost completely inaudible, so an emotional connection comes not from themes or language but rather from the sound and construction of these clever modern folk pieces. Pioulard is a particularly promising example of the musician-producer auteur.

10. Fieldwork – Door (Pi)
Vijay Iyer, Steve Lehman and Tyshawn Sorey all on the same session?! This really is a contemporary jazz supertrio and every bit as dangerous and exciting as its line-up would suggest. This has a more elastic, free spirit at its core than the independent work of either Lehman or Iyer, although Tyshawn Sorey’s formidably accurate drumming ensures some sense of stricture is retained. Both fiery and respectful, there’s an energy and restlessness in the playing that brings out the most individual traits of all three players.

09. Beatundercontrol – Cosmic Repackage (Malicious Damage)‘Fusion’ is still a dirty word for many music lovers – but I can’t think of a more accurate way to describe the extraordinary sound Ulf Ivarsson has created here. Splicing together elements from jazz, dub, krautrock, even metal, he made one of the most fascinating works of the year. It’s an immersing listen, free from any conception of boundaries and full of intriguing compositional devices. The arrangements are intelligent but not overly complicated and the overall effect is striking and heavy. Sometimes the music is oppressive and dark, sometimes it is deceptively light. Perhaps its rather ugly title puts people off – this is a wonderful album that deserves more attention.

08. Bobo Stenson Trio – Cantando (ECM)
This is a record of almost unimaginable control and subtlety, one that relies on implication rather than statement and where the connection between the three players is unshakeable. Every jazz musician recognises the need for spontaneity in this music, but few can identify the distinction between instinct and intuition. Informed by experience, the best musicians can restrain themselves from splurging out everything in their heads. Drummer Jon Falt seems like a prime example here - adding conversational strokes to the music and supporting where necessary. That he integrates so warmly and intelligently with Stenson and his lyrical bassist Anders Jormin is testament to his skill and natural talent. The selections here rework pieces by Ornette Coleman and Alban Berg, which shows the wide range of Stenson’s musical understanding. Perhaps the highlight is the extended free improvisation ‘Pages’, which proves these peaceful musicians are also liberated and original.

07. The Bug – London Zoo (Ninja Tune)
This has been rather misleadingly clumped with the dubstep genre, when Kevin Martin’s real sonic concerns are a good deal more varied and complex. This confrontational, uncommonly angry blitz of digital dancehall achieves what Bloc Party failed to realise on ‘A Weekend In The City’ – an intelligent, excoriating portrait of a contemporary London riddled with violence and fear. It’s certainly terrifying – but the sheer determination to rage on is powerful. In spite of essentially consisting of individual tracks that exhibit the talents of a variety of guest performers, the whole album coheres remarkably well.

06. Portishead – Third (Universal)
Fears that Portishead would end their long hiatus with a record that merely restated their core values proved unfounded – there was nothing remotely dated or unambitious about ‘Third’. This is as claustrophobic and gripping a record as I’ve heard this year – it grasps the listener in a vice and remains unrelenting and unmerciful until its conclusion. Only the bucolic ‘Deep Water’ really changes the mood, and it has a cleansing effect, but still Beth Gibbons sounds fearful and intimidated, held down by the limitations of modern living. It’s a discomforting, disorientating and confessional work full of regret, but one that seems honest rather than forced.

05. James Blackshaw – Litany of Echoes (Tompkins Square)
It’s certainly strange and surprising to hear James Blackshaw open his latest magnum opus on piano rather than guitar. Perhaps his spare, lingering chords offer some kind of counterpoint to the rest of this album, which must be his most richly orchestrated and most technically accomplished work to date. The extraordinary sound of his twelve string guitar is difficult to describe – it’s like being faced with impassable terrain or a cascading waterfall. Yet navigating through his imposing landscapes is a great joy and a decidedly relaxing and positive experience.

04. Fennesz – Black Sea (Touch)‘Black Sea’ slipped out in mid-December and I haven’t really yet had time to compose my thoughts on it. I am clear in my mind, however, that it’s on a par with Christian Fennesz’s best work and is more than a worthy companion to ‘Endless Summer’ and ‘Venice’. It’s a more audacious record than last year’s collaboration with Ryuchi Sakamoto and one that makes more transparent use of Fennesz’s guitar amidst the hiss and hum of his laptop noise.

It’s clearer from ‘Black Sea’ that Fennesz is a dexterous and intelligent musician – there are points here where the swirling guitar becomes the dominant feature, rather than simply being subsumed into the attendant fog. Fennesz manages to achieve this without losing his music’s inherent sense of weirdness and fog though – his tracks seem to unfold gradually in a voyage of discovery, beginning quietly in confusion and ending boldly in clarity. There’s a sense of danger and malevolence at every turn, but a romanticism generally wins out.

03. Toumani Diabate – The Mande Variations (World Circuit)
Perhaps one of the major joys in exploring music from around the globe is the opportunity to hear unusual instruments unique to particular locations or cultures. Toumani Diabate is the virtuosic master of the kora, a Malian 32-stringed harp carved from a calabash that produces a wonderfully peaceful, soothing sound. ‘The Mande Variations’ presents Diabate unadorned and alone, without overdubs, and its riches are plentiful and varied. Many of these pieces are hymns to Diabate’s major influences, but they are played with a character, panache and feeling unique to Diabate himself. Although studio recorded, this is probably the closest work in recent years to the emotional abandon of Keith Jarrett’s best improvised concerts, and Diabate brings a similar sense of joy and awe to his kora playing.

02. Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago (4AD)
It’s easy to get cynical about albums like this, which build slowly through word of mouth and internet buzz and then get grasped eagerly by the music press and become ubiquitous. Justin Vernon may well have been flabbergasted that this intimate, personal record travelled so well in 2008. The backstory that surrounds it – which involved Vernon going to a rural cabin to record and hunting his own food – may well be completely fabricated for all I know but it certainly added a useful layer of mystique for marketing the music.

Really, though, it’s all inessential. It doesn’t matter whether or not the Emma of the album’s title is a real figure in Vernon’s life or not. What does matter is the extraordinary sound of this record – the warmth of the acoustic guitar and the ethereal quality of its layered choir of multi-tracked Vernon’s. Then there’s his voice itself, which is wonderfully versatile – moving from biting aggression on the choruses of ‘Skinny Love’ to haunting tenderness on the sublime closer ‘Re: Stacks’.

Few singer-songwriters manage to draw such richness from fundamentals. There isn’t much involved here except for guitar, voices and occasional percussion. The album is both elemental and elusive, direct but also ambiguous enough (not least in its unusual, poetic lyrics) to leave itself open to a variety of interpretations. It’s the album I’ve listened to the most in 2008.

01. Wildbirds and Peacedrums – Heartcore/The Snake (Leaf/Caprice)
My second case of flagrantly breaking established rules completes the 2008 chart. Sweden’s Wildbirds and Peacedrums were the revelation of the year for me both in their recordings and in live performance. I initially discovered them through the Raven Sings The Blues blog and I’ve yet to read anything substantial about them in the UK music press. Is this because they’ve won a Jazz prize in Sweden and have therefore been classified as a marginal concern? Or is it because the press here usually don’t bother investigating Scandinavian or European music in any great depth? Either way, the non-appearance of these records in any review of the year lists is absolutely criminal. Music this original and superbly executed should not be ignored.

‘Heartcore’ is really a 2007 album, but only received UK distribution through the Leaf label this year. It’s such beguiling and direct music, mostly stripped back to just drums and Mariam Wallentin’s peerless voice – and it’s amazing how much pure, genuine and unvarnished emotion the duo draw from that basic set-up. When they do add new elements, they are there for their textural effect and their emotional impact. ‘I Can’t Tell In His Eyes’ is as lush and touching a ballad as I’ve heard this year, made all the more impressive by its considered melding of electronic and acoustic sounds. Elsewhere, they can be brutal and forceful and – in spite of the absence of a harmonic instrument and unusually for a Scandinavian group, very much in touch with the blues.

‘The Snake’ develops the sound, and is closer to the overwhelming brilliance of their live performances. It’s also a darker, more opaque record, echoing some of the spirit and style of Portishead’s ‘Third’. It requires some effort from the listener in order o appreciate fully Patience is rewarded though, as the interaction of drums and vocals proves even more fruitful and creative here. It has yet to be officially released in the UK, but can be heard in full on some online outlets. Let’s hope Leaf pick it up for a proper 2008 release.

Albums Of The Year 2008 Part 1: 100 - 51

100. Magnetic Fields – Distortion (Nonesuch)
I’ve veered between finding this album disappointing and something of a guilty pleasure. By the year’s end, I’m firmly settled on the latter. Setting out his stall by claiming that the album had no ambition other than to sound ‘more like the Jesus and Mary Chain than the Jesus and Mary Chain’, Stephin Merritt made the noisiest, least original of the Magnetic Fields albums to date. Yet it’s not as if he hasn’t made an album based on a sonic rather than a conceptual conceit before. I remain a big fan of ‘The Charm of The Highway Strip’, Merritt’s country ‘on the road’ album where synthesisers replaced guitars. ‘Distortion’ works for two reasons – firstly, that Merritt does highly creative things with all the blurry noise – distorting all manner of instruments so that they sound unusual and weird. Then, there’s the incredible songs (even after exhausting the pop song form on ’69 Love Songs’ he’s still writing them). With his barbed wit still intact, Merritt can sum up lovesickness, giddiness, joy and pain in the space of a couple of minutes. Whether you take him seriously or not depends on how many layers of irony you wish to accept.

99. She and Him – Volume One (Merge)
When actresses turn to pop music, they don’t usually come up with something as joyful and unassuming as this lightweight but loveable album. With arrangements and production duties handled by the masterful M Ward, however, it’s arguable that Zooey Deschanel was in the safest hands possible. He is someone who can effortlessly breathe new life into material that is often in essence somewhat retrogressive and conservative. Although not exactly the strongest singer in the world, Deschanel’s understated and unaffected vocals made these songs seem genuine and honest.

98. Tom Richards Orchestra – Smoke and Mirrors (Candid)
Tom Richards is a Royal Academy of Music graduate and a seriously accomplished musician, but until now has mostly paid his dues as a sideman for Jamie Cullum and, ahem, Staines indie-rockers Hard Fi. Not exactly a distinguished CV and one that gives little indication of the inventiveness and playfulness of his big band composing and arranging. ‘Smoke and Mirrors’ is an excellent record – full of movement, energy and urbane humour, superbly performed with a fresh, modern take on the big band sound.

97. Ellen Allien – SOOL (Bpitch Control)
It seems unlikely that modern techno pioneer Ellen Allien will make an album as inviting as ‘Berlinette’ again. Since then, her music has become increasingly harsh and atavistic, rarely more so than on this brutal selection of relentless machine music. It has its own artistry in its refusal to compromise or to soften its impact. If ‘Berlinette’ combined hedonism with romance, this is the musical equivalent of loveless sex with multiple partners.

96. Lykke Li – Youth Novels (Warner)
Good pure pop is a satisfying rarity and in 2008, Swedish sensation Lykke Li fulfilled the duty performed so well in previous years by Robyn and Annie. There is, however, something more unconventional about her music than such a statement implies. Perhaps it’s in her vulnerable, flimsy vocals. Perhaps it’s in the percussive quality of her music. When all is pieced together, it’s a beguiling confection. If her voice sounds childlike, then it’s perfect for the combination of naivety and insight that these songs demand.

95. Jamie Lidell – Jim (Warp)
Anyone hoping that Jamie Lidell might take a U-turn and move back to more glitchy, uncomfortable electronica after ‘Multiply’ will have had their hopes dashed in no uncertain terms. In fact, ‘Jim’ almost completely excises any trace of Lidell’s electronica roots in favour of an almost too perfect facsimile of classic soul, disco and funk. It’s testament to Lidell’s talent that this isn’t completely embarrassing. His voice is gritty and stirring, and he has penned a set of songs with personality and brio, some of which balance things out with disarming tenderness. He seems to have become a male Amy Winehouse – with all of the talent and none of the waywardness or tabloid attention.

94. Fuck Buttons – Street Horsssing (ATP)
Perhaps it’s OK to have a name that ensures minimal radio play when you make this sort of music – long swathes of dense, combative noise-fog, through which the prettiest of melodies gradually emerge. ‘Street Horsssing’ is actually a serious work, in spite of the band’s moniker and their recourse to toy instruments. It’s a seamless, enveloping sound that pits claustrophobia against pure joy.

93. High Places – High Places (Thrill Jockey)
High Places are one of those bands that seem to make an effortless, beguiling combination of aimless contemplation and melodic formality. Initially, perhaps due to Mary Pearson’s hushed vocals, these tracks seem primarily mood pieces – but the integration of the voice and the animated, inventive percussion that underpins them makes them into something much more substantial and mesmerising.

92. Emmylou Harris – All I Intended To Be (Nonesuch)
It’s harsh to judge ‘All I Intended To Be’ against the quality of its three outstanding predecessors, but it’s definitely a more straightforward and less adventurous record than we’ve been used to from Emmylou in recent years. However, as a summary of her qualities as both writer and interpreter, it’s a suitably haunting and moving document. Her selection of songs remains shrewd, and her own songs continue to exhibit her extraordinary wisdom and compassion. Yes, it’s full of intimations of loss and mortality – but these are not exactly unexpected themes for a mature artist to cover. It’s nicely played, if sometimes a little too safe in its production values.

91. Matthew Herbert Big Band – There’s Me and There’s You (Accidental)
If he were working at the absolute peak of his powers, I’d expect any new Matthew Herbert album to comfortably walk into my top ten. ‘There’s Me and There’s You’, in spite of its theme of political protest, is actually his softest and most comfortable work to date, but perhaps there’s something subversive in stating your righteous anger with music that is more relaxing than it is violent. There are still some magical, ingenious touches though, and the arrangements are vibrant and compelling. Introducing some new vocalists to this project has also stopped it from being a straight retread of ‘Goodbye Swingtime’ – this time, it seems as if Herbert is taking as much influence from the world of musical theatre as from big band jazz. Perhaps this is what has made many people dislike the record – but I think it adds a fresh element to Herbert’s repertoire, even if it sometimes borders on pastiche.

90. The Hold Steady – Stay Positive (Rough Trade)‘Stay Positive’ is a very good rock record - full of brash, clamorous playing and literate, verbose lyrics. Speaking subjectively, it’s probably a bit too boorish and masculine for me to appreciate fully – there’s still the sense that The Hold Steady are a bar band made good, and they lack the shameless humour of AC/DC. If the earnestness is sometimes a little difficult to stomach, just enjoy the visceral thrill of their performance, and those wonderful flourishes of E Street Band piano. Best of all is when they get spiritual and reflective – ‘Lord I’m Discouraged’ is an amazing, genuinely touching song.

89. Arve Henriksen – Cartography (ECM)
Arve Henriksen’s move from Rune Grammofon to ECM unnerved people, not least because that label’s familiar Kim Horthoy artwork would have to be replaced by the conformist ECM packaging. Musically, however, there was little to be unnerved by, as ‘Cartography’ more than matches the rest of Henriksen’s catalogue for mystery and intrigue. The title seems wonderfully apposite – as Henriksen’s writing and playing sounds very much like a process for mapping uncharted territories. There are still no obvious reference points for Henriksen’s sound, which is among the most unique in contemporary jazz.

88. Bill Dixon With Exploding Star Orchestra – s/t (Thrill Jockey)
Chicago remains one of the best cities for forward thinking jazz. If last year’s Exploding Star Orchestra album contained moments of wild abandon, this collaboration with Bill Dixon is more exploratory and less constrained. Consisting of long pieces with plenty of strident, domineering improvisation, it’s an attempt at transcendence that demonstrates that this is a project with real ambition and imagination, much in the spirit of Sun Ra or Alice Coltrane.

87. Finn Peters – Butterflies (Accidental)
Matthew Herbert’s Accidental label really came into its own in 2008 with the signing of the very promising Micachu and this release from acclaimed jazz flautist and saxophonist Finn Peters. With the dexterous and intelligent Tom Skinner on drums and Nick Ramm on keyboards, his group comprise some of the best players in an invigorated London scene. If his debut ‘Su-Ling’ (released on the Babel label) showcased his swinging, rhythmic side, ‘Butterflies’ was a more pastoral and ruminative set, full of delicacy and calm. It’s frequently sedate, but also remarkably joyful.

86. James Hunter – The Hard Way (Rounder)
It’s unlikely that you’ll hear a better set of classic rhythm and blues than this. Hunter and his band are superb – consistently taut and thoroughly immersed in their chosen idiom. Luckily, Hunter is also a dab hand with an infectious melody and this is his most memorable set of songs so far, recorded with real empathy at Toe Rag.

85. Alexander Tucker – Portal (ATP)
Alexander Tucker’s collaboration with Stephen O’Malley at the Maximum Black Festival was a bit too much for me – essentially a relentless drone with little even in the way of textural variation, never mind rhythm, melody or harmony. His solo work is a good deal more ingratiating, and ‘Portal’ continues his fascinating revitalising of a folk tradition with influences drawn from psychedelia, electronica and jazz. His soft, delicate voice helps keep things grounded.

84. Jenny Lewis – Acid Tongue (Rough Trade)
The more Jenny Lewis gets away from preconceived ideas of what she should be doing, the more enjoyable I find her music. ‘Acid Tongue’ is quite some way from the winsome indie of the early Rilo Kiley albums. It’s also some distance from the Appalachian gospel of ‘Rabbit Fur Coat’, her collaboration with the Watson Twins that I feel has been slightly overpraised. This time she has delved into the LA Canyon and come back with an album that is in equal parts lush and rollicking. Perhaps it is at its best when at its loosest and least dutiful, a thrilling paen to the simple acts of writing and recording good songs.

83. kd lang – Watershed (Nonesuch)
It is, of course, not very cool to include an artist like kd lang in a list like this, but ‘Watershed’ merits its inclusion through sheer quality alone. It’s a languid, sublime and lush work, self-produced and recorded in a home studio, a process that has clearly liberated lang to write the most emotional and expressive songs of her career. Her voice remains an instrument of real beauty, powerful but without the kind of banal admonition that comes from singers too keen to demonstrate their range and force. She sounds like a woman who has lived and loved and this is very clearly the most striking album of her career.

82. Lambchop – OH (Ohio) (City Slang)
This is one of those albums that has been dubbed a ‘return to form’, although it’s certainly arguable that its darker predecessor was in some ways more interesting. It is a return of sorts though – a return to the warmer, sparser sound of Lambchop’s earliest records. It’s a shame that Kurt Wagner now opts to bury his idiosyncratic voice deep in the mix, overshadowed by music that is frequently more comforting than adventurous. It’s his lyrics, bizarre, individual and memorable – that really deserve to be heard. Similarly, his unusual phrasing and emphatic enunciation really helps these songs come alive when performed live. It’s an excellent set, but one that perhaps hints more at what Wagner could do to escape the constrictions of his group.

81. Nik Bartsch’s Ronin – Holon (ECM)
Nik Bartsch’s circular, minimalist, Reichian take on jazz emphasises rhythm as the predominant factor. It also makes the music more hypnotic than cerebral. It becomes very easy to immerse oneself totally in this radical, individual music. This is Bartsch’s most confident statement of what he calls ‘zen funk’ – a music that can involve adventurous abstraction, but more frequently relies on an almost mechanistic, precisely engineered groove. It is indeed an enlightening experience to listen to it.

80. Ry Cooder – I, Flathead (Nonesuch)
Completing a trilogy of conceptual album charting American social history, this might be the slightest and most lightweight of the three, at least thematically. It concerns the story of a bar-room rocker who also enjoys car racing. An album in thrall to the joy of speed, women and noise does not exactly break new ground. Yet the story has a tragic arc, and the presentation is particularly delightful (the album came packaged with a story book for good measure). I also prefer it to ‘My Name Is Buddy’ which had much to say about left wing movements in America but diluted it with too much whimsy by making its characters anthropomorphic animals. Musically, this is one of Cooder’s most fundamental and enjoyable records.

79. Wild Beasts – Limbo, Panto (Domino)
Hayden Thorpe’s extravagant falsetto is hardly going to be for everyone’s tastes, and neither is this vivacious, grandiose and excessive music. Yet this very fact alone makes Wild Beasts stand head and shoulders over the rest of the British guitar music scene (justifiably dismissed in many quarters as ‘landfill indie’). Here is a band with not just a sense of the theatrical, but that also comes with guts and passion.

78. Thank You – The Terrible Two (Thrill Jockey)‘The Terrible Two’ was one of 2008’s more unusual offerings – primal, guttural and full of ritualistic energy. It’s a cluttered, majestic mess of a record, imprecise but equal parts angry and celebratory. Its unrestrained urgency is admirable. Lots of ensembles talk somewhat pretentiously about abandoning thought and planning from their creative process. Thank You seem to be one of the few to have actually realised this intuitive alchemy with positive results.

77. Earth – The Bees Made Honey In The Lion’s Skull (Southern Lord)
I can’t really beat Pitchfork for describing Dylan Carlson’s latest template for Earth as the ‘Ennio Morricone of metal’. This description probably saddens followers of Earth’s earlier, doom-laden sludge, but rather delights me. This is one of the most deliberately slow record I’ve ever heard, evoking both barren, deserted landscapes and a concurrent sense of loneliness. It’s aided considerably by a surprising guest appearance from the brilliant guitarist Bill Frisell.

76. Benga – Diary of an Afro Warrior (Tempa)
Here is another excellent album helping to elevate the dubstep genre to maturity and distinction. If Burial’s ‘Untrue’ presented the more emotional, affecting side of this music – Bega’s ‘Diary..’ opts for something more precise and mechanical. It’s an intriguing combination of cold logic and harsh experience that initially sounds skeletal but reveals surprising intricacies on repeated plays.

75. Late of the Pier – Fantasy Black Channel (Parlophone)
I’ve not exactly been singing the praises of British music recently, but this, along with the Wild Beasts album and the Field Music projects, suggests there might yet be some form of resurgence brewing. It’s refreshing that Parlophone took the risk of boosting a band with this many outlandish ideas, making music that is very difficult to categorise. Of course, from a marketing point of view, it helps to have Errol Alkan handling production duties, and this strikes me as his most successful effort to date. ‘Fantasy Black Channel’ heads in whatever direction its creators feel like travelling – from jerky electro-funk to driving post-punk. Melody is perhaps not their strongpoint, but there’s something idiosyncratic and infectious in the way the vocals interact with the constantly shifting music. This is a group completely unafraid of ridicule.

74. Roots Manuva – Slime and Reason (Big Dada)
Whilst there are some fantastic pop moments on Rodney Smith’s latest (not least the hilarious ‘Buff Nuff’, which is either a parody of the male dancehall artist’s roving eye or a wholesale embrace of it), his strength and individuality still lies in his unshakeable honesty. Whereas most rappers opt for braggadocio and egotism, Smith admits to his very human failings. On ‘The Show Must Go On’, he discusses alcoholism and his fear of his kids seeing him in the state to which he has succumbed. That the album ends with a track called ‘The Struggle’ perhaps sums up Smith’s anxieties and dread. Musically, ‘Slime and Reason’ is another triumph – consistently stimulating and vibrant.

73. Beck – Modern Guilt (XL)
I must admit I’d basically lost touch with Beck. I liked ‘Midnight Vultures’ a lot on its initial release, but I now find its garish funk parodies quite difficult to stomach. ‘Sea Change’ seemed like an earnest failure to me, whilst ‘Guero’ and ‘The Information’ simply passed me by. How refreshing then to find that ‘Modern Guilt’ is such a superb record, brilliantly aided by sympathetic production from Danger Mouse. It’s Beck’s most concise statement for some time, and it benefits from its brevity. At one point, we might have described this as ‘all killer, no filler’ – sonically inventive and more melodically aware than Beck has been in recent years.

72. Gang Gang Dance – Saint Dymphna (Warp)‘Saint Dymphna’ isn’t quite the full-on triumph that ‘God’s Money’ was – but it’s certainly an audacious and enjoyable record. Still heavily reliant on that almost tribal rhythmic impetus, but now experimenting more with forms more closely associated with the club scene (there’s even a surprise cameo from London Grime MC Tinchy Snyder), ‘Saint Dymphna’ is a peculiar and disorienting collage with scant respect for convention.

71. The Week That Was – The Week That Was (Memphis Industries)
The demise of Field Music has proved to be something of a blessing in disguise, as the band re-emerged with two distinct projects. Peter Brewis’ take seemed inspired by a lot of the music of the 1980s, particularly those Steve Lillywhite-produced efforts from Peter Gabriel. Ostensibly a concept album about the modern media, it’s perhaps more inviting for its sonic conceits – each track bounding in on thumping, insistent drums and enlivened by some elaborate arrangements incorporating strings and percussion. It never entirely abandons the quirky, offbeat charm that made Field Music so appealing though.

70. Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Tim Story – Inlandish (Gronland)
This collaboration between the electronic pioneer Roedelius (famed for his work with Cluster and Harmonia) and the American composer Tim Story is one of the year’s most subtle gems. Certainly, it echoes Brian Eno’s ambient experiments but it’s also an elegant and awe-inspiring construction in its own right. It’s a very pure, deeply haunting record and one that, perhaps due to its early release date, seems to have been forgotten even by those publications with an interest in contemporary composition.

69. Calexico – Carried To Dust (City Slang)‘Carried to Dust’ has been portrayed in the media as a much-needed retrenchment after the failed rock experiment of ‘Garden Ruin’. I didn’t see too many critics offering a virulent critique of ‘Garden Ruin’ on its initial release and the argument is somewhat misleading in implying that the rock dynamics of that album have been totally abandoned. Whilst the Mariachi horns are certainly back, there’s certainly some residual elements of that album’s more conventional attack. The song narratives here, as always with Calexico, are lucid and compelling.

68. Steve Reich – Daniel Variations (Nonesuch)
Although premiered at the Barbican in 2007, 2008 saw the first CD release of this latest major work from Steve Reich, by his own admission his most political work to date. This is Reich’s response to the murder of American journalist Daniel Pearl in Pakistan, and the text juxtaposes Pearl’s writings with passages from the Old Testament. The usual Reichian tricks are present – this time the overlapping, polyrhythmic backdrop is provided by four pianos. Musically, it perhaps doesn’t offer much that is new (and it’s not as astonishing as ‘Different Trains’ or ‘New York Counterpoint) – but it is notable for its emotional clarity, when much of Reich’s music can seem more mechanical and less human.

67. Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds – Dig! Lazarus! Dig! (Mute)
Whilst others seem to see this as a major Nick Cave work, I’m not quite so convinced that it’s not one of his more minor efforts. It’s certainly better than ‘No More Shall We Part’ or ‘Nocturama’, but it’s not as good as the ‘Abbatoir Blues/Lyre of Orpheus’ double set and certainly doesn’t hit the heights of ‘The Boatman’s Call’ or ‘Tender Prey’. That being said, a Nick Cave album with flaws is still a brilliant, wild, unsettling beast, and ‘Dig!...’ ticks all those boxes with added vigour and humour. James Johnston’s organ and Warren Ellis’ violin continue to reshape the Bad Seeds sound.

66. Neon – Here To There (Basho)
The Neon project is audacious for its spirit of inter-generational collaboration, and for its unusual line-up. This trio of piano, saxophone and marimba/vibes is striking for its cascading, rich sound. The group manage to achieve and sustain momentum without the presence of a drummer, and the sound is powerful and full. Most importantly, it frequently sounds like an informed conversation between the three players where each is contributing an individual perspective to a wider whole. With players such as Simcock and Hart, there could easily be a temptation towards peerless but pointless virtuosity – but it’s the feeling of this music that shines through.

65. The Notwist – The Devil, You + Me (City Slang)
This long-awaited album from The Notwist seems to have been unfairly overlooked in light of not quite replicating the quality of its visionary predecessor ‘Neon Golden’. Perhaps people had expected the group to have been slaving away in the studio for every minute of the past four years, crafting some kind of modern day masterpiece. ‘The Devil, You + Me’ is undoubtedly more modest than that but, for these ears at least, part of its appeal is in its surprising level of understatement. Many of its core ideas emerge through implication and suggestion. As we’ve come to expect from the band, it merges elements of left-field rock music with electronics with surprising ease.

64. Neon Neon – Stainless Style (Lex)
Like The Magnetic Fields’ ’69 Love Songs’ this album, a concept album based on the tragic arc of the life and times of John DeLorean (echoing the music of the time), succeeds as more than parody due to the sheer brilliance of its tunes. Gruff Rhys is at his most melodically inventive here, and whilst his voice is in danger of over-familiarity, the new contexts provided by Boom Bip refresh his artistry. There’s a real sense of fun in the album’s more hedonistic moments, but the palpably melancholic undertow adds humanity to what could have been an academic, overly stylised exercise.

63. Hot Chip – Made In The Dark (DFA/EMI)
If ‘The Warning’ was a tight, considered statement of intent, Hot Chip opted to throw everything at the wall with their third album. Not all of it sticks – ‘Bendable Poseable’ lands on the wrong side of the thin line between infectious and irritating. There is, however, plenty of evidence of Alexis Taylor’s winning way with a melody and his honesty as a writer (something not always remarked upon given the emphasis on his more ironic qualities). Whilst Joe Goddard’s electronic wizardry and arranging skill are again at the forefront, there’s also a sense of Hot Chip cementing as a band, perhaps best demonstrated by the astonishing ‘One Pure Thought’. Whilst some people find the ballads whimsical or twee, I find them intriguing – melodically direct but emotionally ambiguous.

62. Was (Not Was) – Boo! (Rykodisc)
Few records in 2008 have made me smile quite as much as this belated comeback from the funk pop masters. In some ways, it takes me back to my childhood, when I couldn’t resist ludicrous songs like ‘Walk The Dinosaur’ and ‘Out Come The Freaks’ (even if I didn’t understand the full implications of the latter). That wry, zany humour permeates much of ‘Boo!’, every bit as out of step with the times as we would expect from Don and David Was. Some familiar figures return here too – including the legendary Sweet Pea Atkinson, who sounds as brilliant as ever on the wild and wonderful ‘Semi Interesting Week’. Bob Dylan belatedly gets round to offering payback for Don Was’ production work on ‘Under The Red Sky’ by offering ‘Mr. Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore’, a funky gem totally unlike anything in his own catalogue. Yet perhaps the weirdest moment is provided at the album’s conclusion – which features very gravelly vocals from one Kris Kristofferson.

61. Atlas Sound – Let The Blind Lead Those Who Can See But Cannot Feel (4AD/Kranky)
Bradford Cox may have invested more promotional energy in his group Deerhunter, but it’s arguably this solo project where he is at his most artistically honest. Whilst he’s posted 70 + Atlas Sound tracks to his blog over the past few years, this is his debut album proper under the name. It’s a record that is characerised by blurred boundaries and confusion – Cox frequently sounds lost, sometimes blissfully so, in the cascading sound with which he surrounds himself. Sometimes he’s simply defeated by his own vulnerability. ‘Let The Blind…’ is perhaps the record for Deerhunter followers who feel the band tightened up their act a little too much with ‘Microcastle’ (I’m not one of those people) but it is in itself a carefully structured work that ought to be digested whole.

60. Subtle – Exiting Arm (Lex)
Pitchfork hilariously claimed that this featured ‘the most opaque lyrics in Subtle’s catalogue’, which given that vocalist Doseone deals mainly in stream of consciousness surrealism is a bit like saying the latest Pope is the most Catholic in history. It’s a shame that not many commentators in the UK have noticed Subtle’s extravagant sound melee – an exotic fusion of hip hop, jazz, rock, dance music and funk. The contrasts between different vocal treatments perhaps remind me most of Yello. It’s a seemingly disparate, nonsensical stream of ideas, but listening to it is tremendous fun. Their Myspace blog claims they are going on hiatus, presumably to focus on the members’ myriad other projects. Yet it’s when they come together that they seem to achieve the most.

59. Sian Alice Group – 59.59 (Social Registry)
Emerging from the same label that brought Gang Gang Dance to our attention, Sian Alice Group are a much less unpredictable but no less interesting proposition. Dealing in the kind of unshakeable repetition and minimalism that requires careful handling, they somehow manage to craft music that is both steadfast and engaging. Their association with Spiritualized and John Coxon invites obvious comparison, but their music focuses more on the cascading than the abrasive. They will stick on one note for as long as is necessary, drawing out as much impulse and emotion from it as possible. Sian Ahern’s vocals are mysterious and erotic, sometimes echoing PJ Harvey and her most expressive.

58. Max Richter – 24 Postcards In Full Colour (Fat Cat)
Max Richter has described this latest release as a collection of ringtones, arguing: "Thinking about how we listen to music today, I wonder why it is that ringtones have so far been treated as unfit for creative music. Who says ringtones have to be bad? It's like saying LPs or CDs are bad—it's just a medium”. Given that it’s unrealistic to expect all mobile phones to be permanently switched to silent, I’d be a happy man if more people downloaded these little nuggets of composition. It can probably only be a good thing if Richter is striving to make interesting music more accessible in every sense. The music here is therefore understandably fragmented (and those uninterested in new technology can view the pieces as postcards as the title suggests – small, pithy snapshots of human feeling) but no less moving than Richter’s previous work, and arguably therefore no less substantial.

57. Marnie Stern – This Is It and I Am It and You Are It and So Is That and He Is It and She Is It and It Is It and That Is That (Kill Rock Stars)
If there was a prize for silliest album title of 2008, this would certainly win it hands down. Again collaborating with Zach Hill (perhaps the most technically proficient drummer in alternative rock), Marnie Stern has essentially rewritten and remade her debut album here. For once, this is no bad thing, as there seems to be plenty of mileage in the visceral thrill of this music. It’s certainly intricate and complex, but it’s every bit as immediate, furious and righteous as the rawest punk rock.

56. Skyphone – Avellaneda (Rune Grammofon)
So many groups now operate in this kind of electro-acoustic space that it’s hard to really push the boundaries now. Danish groups seem particularly drawn to this sound – Efterklang made one of my favourite albums of last year but added a hint of gospel joy to the template. ‘Avellaneda’ may be the most restrained, dignified and calm album in my list this year – it’s so warm, soothing and soft. Much of it feels weightless and liberated by its renunciation of volume and personality.

55. School of Language – Sea From Shore (Memphis Industries)
David Brewis was the first of the Field Music brothers to release his own project and this angular, detailed, impressively constructed take on rock music has the edge of the two for me, much as I admire The Week That Was. It shares with a group like XTC a preoccupation for writing memorable melodies and twisting them into unpredictable, unfamiliar shapes. Bookended by the four part ‘Rockist’ suite, it’s also a highly conceptual, brilliantly sequenced work. I suspect it’s been overlooked due to a release date early in the year, which is always a great injustice.

54. Diskjokke – Staying In (Smalltown Supersound)
For some reason, I almost omitted this thinking it had come out in 2007 – but no, it’s very much a 2008 release. It’s frequently been grouped with other 2008 records such as Hercules and Love Affair or Kelley Polar as a nu-disco work, but there’s something more ethereal and enchanting about it than that. It certainly isn’t one of those dance records that’s all about hedonism and physical energy and little else. There’s real detail and craft to the arrangements.

53. Sun Kil Moon – April (Caldo Verde)
There’s a little less of the Neil Young fury on Mark Kozelek’s second full length using the Sun Kil Moon moniker, but the feelings of desolation and loneliness certainly remain. His songs are steadfastly melancholy and paced deliberately slowly. They take as long to unfold as Kozelek feels necessary. His voice remains an instrument of quiet beauty – unwaveringly soft and haunted, about as far from the X Factor school of singing as it’s possible to get and much more convincing at conveying genuine emotion. All this requires a very high degree of patience and concentration from the listener, but Kozelek’s sublime music offers manifest rewards.

52. Okkervil River – The Stand-Ins (Jagjaguwar)
A companion piece to last year’s ‘The Stage Names’, ‘The Stand Ins’ continues Will Sheff’s transition from morose country-tinged indie to an arguably more conventional hybrid of rock, folk and Motown soul. Some of the brutality of earlier Okkervil albums has now been jettisoned (it’s hard to hear something like ‘Westfall’ or ‘Black’ fitting in here) but Sheff’s storytelling brand of songwriting continues to develop and improve apace. The lyrics here are wonderful, and he’s learning to do more with his voice than simply blast out the choruses. A handful of the songs are deeply moving. Many have suggested that the Shearwater (the group lead by departed Okkervil member Jonathan Meiburg) album is even better, so I really should investigate that!

51. Elbow – The Seldom Seen Kid (Fiction)
If we’re absolutely honest, this is neither Elbow’s best album nor the best album of the year, but I still couldn’t help jumping for joy when it was announced as the Mercury winner. There can be few more deserving bands and few more endearing frontmen than Guy Garvey. It’s Garvey’s touching humanism that wins out here yet again, his lyrics capturing small moments with keen observation and emotional clarity. At their best, Elbow remain interested in the full possibilities of sound and rhythm, as their decision to produce this record by themselves clearly attests. The group’s occasional lapse into anthemic stadium territory still jars somewhat though.

Albums Of The Year 2008: Quibbles, Omissions and Honourable Mentions

If, back in, say, 1999, someone had told me that I would at some point compile a best albums of the year list that ran to 100 records and still didn’t include the most recent efforts from REM and Spiritualized, I’d have been incredulous. Yet here is the 2008 list, and neither of those discs are present – the latter because it’s simply too tired and insipid, the former because it just isn’t the ‘return to form’ everyone has made it out to be (although I enjoy it enough). Regular readers will be less surprised that I’ve omitted Glasvegas and Paul Weller, two albums that have come close to topping some of the mainstream lists but for which I have little time myself.

I now do a top 100 because a top 50 or even a top 75 is not enough to convey the range of music I appreciate in any particular year. Obviously, the sheer volume of this undertaking makes the order outside the top 30 or so fairly arbitrary.

There are numerous other omissions more worthy of a mention, because they are records that I admire in part or that are really excellent and just narrowly missed out on inclusion: Brian Eno and David Byrne, M83, The Bad Plus, Patricia Barber, Neil Cowley Trio, Old Crow Medicine Show, Mystery Jets, Kings of Leon, Thomas Tantrum, Walter Becker, B-52s, Jeremy Warmsley, Noah and the Whale, Misha Alperin, Sparks, Marcin Wasilewski Trio, Destroyer, Alexis Taylor, No Age, AC/DC.

I don’t dislike the Eno and Byrne, but its first couple of tracks are too cheesy, and the production throughout is more characteristic of Eno’s recent tendency towards wooziness. There are a handful of excellent tracks that would have made for a much more satisfying EP. Noah and the Whale I ultimately find more satisfying live than on record, where the focus is less on Charlie Fink’s downbeat, cynical lyrics and more on their endearing ramshackle clatter. The Bad Plus made their least interesting record to date by collaborating with a singer and focusing on songs. Their amendments on this occasion are mostly mere quirks and sometimes they simply play it too straight (their rendition of The Flaming Lips’ ‘Feeling Yourself Disintegrate’ really is nothing more than the original on acoustic instruments). What a shame they’ve abandoned their intriguing original compositions.

Alexis Taylor’s debut solo album has some wonderful moments, but is a little too skeletal and half-finished. I can’t really get on with the M83 album (even though Drowned in Sound made it a surprising and original choice for album of the year) – it’s a step too far into 80s nostalgia for me and not as interesting as their previous works. The AC/DC and Kings of Leon albums I omit largely because neither band really needs any more attention, however small a fish I might be in the blogging pond. The former has some dubious lapses into soft rock territory (whist the rest is glorious in its utter predictability), whilst the latter is a powerful stadium rock beast slightly let down by its slow pacing.

Destroyer, No Age and Old Crow Medicine Show clearly have strong cases for inclusion but I just haven’t had time to digest them properly, so I apologise for that. That being said, I’ve not really been compelled to return to No Age’s noisy blast. Some of the best packaging and design of the year though.

EST’s ‘Leucocyte’ is a record I’m still grappling with – I’m not as immediately taken with it as some people seem to be. Whilst Esbjorn Svensson’s tragic death this year makes me want to include it in the top ten for purely emotional reasons, I suspect that had he lived to write more and more music, it might have come to be seen as a transitional record. Hearing the group experiment with interaction and composing through improvising largely reminds me that their strengths were more in their sound and themes. I know the Marcin Wasilewski and Misha Alperin records are both on ECM, but having not listened to them much, I suspect they veer that little bit too far into the serene and peaceful for my tastes. Neither are bad records, just not quite exciting or imposing enough to be included here.

Chris T-T’s ‘Capital’ is another omission that I feel deserves special mention. Like John Kell, my feelings toward it are somewhat complicated and, as a whole, I find it rather aggressive and charmless. Yet a number of its songs are insightful and cutting – ‘A Box to Hide In’ stands out particularly. Of Montreal’s ‘Skeletal Lamping’ is a record I wanted to like but just could not get on with at all. There’s just too many ideas, too much silliness and an overall sense of uncertainty as to whether it’s meant to be taken seriously or not. Some people think it’s art but I suspect it’s more likely pretention.

I also must nod to a handful of records that sound interesting but which I haven’t managed to hear yet. A line always has to be drawn somewhere – so El Guincho, The Present, Abe Vigoda, The Night Marchers, Lindsey Buckingham, Brightblack Morning Light and Peter Broderick will at least have to wait until I manage a ‘ones that got away’ feature early in 2009.

Before we begin, here’s a handy reminder of previous In League with Paton albums of the year:

2007: Dirty Projectors – Rise Above (Rough Trade)
2006: Bruce Springsteen – We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions (Columbia)
2005: Acoustic Ladyland – Last Chance Disco (Babel)
2004: Wilco – A Ghost Is Born (Nonesuch)

Eat This Mark Morrison and Craig David

http://www.abeano.com/blog/hot-chip-peter-gabriel-cape-cod-kwassa-kwassa

This rumoured collaboration between Hot Chip and Peter Gabriel covering Vampire Weekend's Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa really does exist - and it's brilliant! 'It feels so unnatural to sing your own name'. Superb.

A Descent Into Hell

Hunger (Dir: Steve McQueen, 2008)

NB This review necessarily reveals details of shocking scenes within the film. If you’ve not yet seen it, and would prefer to experience the full impact of these scenes (as uncomfortable as the are), probably best to read my thoughts later...

Whilst I’m certainly not averse to difficult, tough and challenging films, I still shied away from approaching Turner Prize winning artist Steve McQueen’s debut feature. A film about Republican ‘dirty protests’ and hunger striking in the notorious Maze prison in the early 1980s, ‘Hunger’ is amongst the most brutal and unflinching films I have ever seen. Some see the film as an hagiography of Bobby Sands and therefore accuse it of Republican bias. Whilst the film does make some strange judgements, I don’t quite agree with this assessment and I suspect many of the tabloid whingers have not even seen the film.

More controversial for many people will be the film’s 15 certificate. I’m not one for censorship and, indeed, I feel the film’s style and content necessitate its graphic images and sensory overload, but surely the BBFC has lost its marbles. If the film contained sexual content that was correspondingly explicit, it would no doubt get an 18 certificate straight away. If you’ll forgive me for some uncharacteristic moralising, it now seems reasonable to expect that teenagers might consider extreme savagery and brutality to be the more everyday human activity.

McQueen drags us into a murky, thoroughly unpleasant but devastatingly real world with this film. The extraordinary opening sequence shows a prison guard beginning his morning routine – mundane and casual in every sense save for the need to check his car for explosive devices before leaving. We follow him into the prison, which McQueen recreates with painstaking attention to detail. It’s not just the realist and uncompromising images that succeed – it’s also the film’s powerful sound design, which is every bit as intricate, conveying much of the tension, claustrophobia and anger without recourse to language.

Another audacious move is the film’s unconventional structure, which eschews narrative in favour of shifting protagonists and conveying a broader sense of fear and rage. Michael Fassbender, playing Bobby Sands in a way that takes method acting to new extremes, doesn’t even appear until thirty minutes into the picture. The ‘hagiography’ argument therefore completely ignores the film’s initial perspective on other prisoners and their disgusting conditions – the maggot-infested food, the walls smeared with their own excrement, the confined shared cells. These scenes are suitably stark but also grimly compelling. Whilst it’s undoubtedly painful to watch, it’s also impossible to remove one’s gaze from McQueen’s ingeniously constructed images.

We see the prisoners, naked through their refusal to wear the clothes of criminals, forcibly washed and beaten with truncheons in almost unwatchably confrontational scenes. These convey both the danger faced by the prison establishment and the abject humiliation and degradation of the protesting prisoners. Yet it’s arguable that McQueen’s film is more effective when it isn’t working so hard to be visceral and intense – its most memorable scenes include a lengthy take of a cleaner sweeping pools of urine back under the prisoners’ cell doors or close-up shots of a guard’s bloodied knuckles soaked in water.

The film undertakes a sudden and somewhat unexpected change of style and mood with the almost casual insertion of a 22 minute sequence of dialogue between Sands and a Priest, played superbly by Liam Cunningham, attempting to convince him of the futility of the hunger strike. This is expertly written by McQueen and Enda Walsh, and the fixed position of the camera, showing both figures in profile and in partial shadow for 16 minutes, maintains a detached and dispassionate gaze. Whilst this is every bit as artistic and rigorous as the rest of the film, it does represent a major and uncomfortable stylistic shift.

Perhaps it is inserted to offer a nugget of political context, which is otherwise only providing by some text at the film’s opening and conclusion and the droning voice of Margaret Thatcher refusing to countenance the protestors’ demands for political status. Whatever the purpose, its impact is to demonstrate Sands’ lack of respect for individual human life, even if it feels rather like a short film within a film. It’s also important to recognise that the scene’s effect is not stagey or theatrical but rather profoundly cinematic, in spite of the rigidity of its parameters.

Perhaps some credence is given to the film’s critics by the admission at the end of the film that more prison officers died during the protests than hunger strikers, yet this is never really made clear. There is one horrible, unsettling scene in which a guard is assassinated whilst visiting his ailing mother in a nursing home – but I felt this scene made an error in suddenly removing us from the seventh circle of hell that is the prison itself.

The film’s closing sequences, depicting Sands’ self-imposed starvation with unflinching honesty, show the vulnerability of the human body in squirm-inducing detail. These scenes don’t imbue Sands’ disintegration with grandeur, but rather simply show his gradual ebbing in a very dispassionate way.

This is, at least, until McQueen makes a fundamental aesthetic mistake. The scenes of the younger Bobby as a ghostly onlooker over his death bed and then flashbacks to him cross country running during his final gasps seem rather trite, and contrast markedly with the austerity of what has gone before. The shots of crows flocking together and flying away seem rather crudely symbolic, and really belong in a lesser film. What a shame that these final images conspire to make Sands’ death seem like a passionate martyrdom. Far better to see the protest as a desperate act whereby the abuse of the body is the only means left to achieve recognition, regardless of whether the cause is noble or not. The eleme

The more I think about this final lapse of taste, the less I consider ‘Hunger’ to be the masterpiece some claim it is, although it is certainly an auspicious debut full of real artistry and power. I suspect that McQueen does not intend ‘Hunger’ to be a political film at all. The film seems to go some way towards rejecting Aristotle’s argument that human beings are political animals. In these depraved, terrible environments it seems that any concept of rationality is abandoned in favour of what, for most people, will constitute unimaginable brutality. With such disrespect for humanity on both sides of the argument, the politics somehow become irrelevant. I usually have a strong faith in basic human decency – that most people are, in essence, good, whatever mistakes they may make. Exiting the cinema after watching ‘Hunger’, with its total debasement of human life, privacy, dignity and trust, I felt this basic principle had been shaken, perhaps even destroyed. This is testament to the film’s overpowering force, in spite of its flaws.

'Reconsider Me'...

Warren Zevon – Warren Zevon (Asylum, 1976, Rhino Reissue, 2008)

What a shame the long-promised Warren Zevon catalogue reissues have been so variable, haphazard and under-promoted. Last year’s reissues at least made ‘The Envoy’ and ‘Stand In The Fire’ readily available on CD, but there were few extras and little effort was made with the presentation. Similarly, a reissue of ‘Mr. Bad Example’ snuck out earlier this year with little fanfare and no bonus tracks. Scant respect is being paid to chronology.

This eponymous album from 1976 is the first to get more reverential treatment on its reissue. It’s often erroneously referred to as one of rock’s great debuts. Zevon himself essentially disowned his true debut, 1969’s eccentric and sketchy ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ (will Rhino manage to make that one available again?), so it’s best to see ‘Warren Zevon’ as the perfect introduction to his sardonic, irony-laden songwriting.

The Zevon story has been repeated so many times that it’s now been elevated to a legend. There’s his fraught childhood as the son of a reckless Russian-Jewish gambling man and a Mormon from Utah, his dysfunctional relationship with Tule Livingston (which went as far as producing his son Jordan), his status as a classical musician of some ability, having had some lessons with Igor Stravinsky, his work as Musical Director for the Everly Brothers and his temporary emigration to Spain when it looked like his musical career in LA had failed.

I often wonder why I’m such a vocal admirer of Zevon’s work when I’m so unconvinced by a large portion of the LA rock canon. I’ve never had much time for The Eagles and Jackson Browne, who produced this album and brought Zevon to wider attention, has always seemed a bit too tasteful by comparison. This record, with its unashamedly autobiographical songs, makes the differences between Zevon and his associates very plain. The Zevon story, whether it’s part-fabricated or the whole truth, makes for something much more snarly and sophisticated than the rest of this scene had to offer.

Having said that, the album starts far from Zevon’s own life with ‘Frank and Jesse James’, one of a number of classic songs to eulogise the American outlaws. The introductory phrasing and rolling rhythms betray Zevon’s classical influence whilst the story itself rings true with Zevon’s preoccupation with wild, radical, untamed individuals (a lifestyle he would succumb to himself). Melodically, it’s very close to another Zevon song, ‘Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner’, essentially a slowed-down, quirkier rewrite of this song that would appear on the ‘Excitable Boy’ album.

The album contains many of Zevon’s best-loved songs – drug ballad ‘Carmelita’, the break-up ballad ‘Hasted Down The Wind’, the hilarious helpless victim rocker ‘Poor Poor Pitiful Me’, the grandiose ‘The French Inhaler’, the defiant ‘I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead’ and the somewhat bizarre ‘Mohammed’s Radio’. It is, to my knowledge, the only Zevon album where he has the sole writing credit for every song, with no covers or collaborative efforts (perhaps excepting ‘Wanted…’?). Whilst the lavish arrangements and glorious vocal harmonies are characteristic features of Zevon’s sound at this time, the demos and alternate takes collated on the bonus disc demonstrate just how fully formed the songs were before the band even entered the studio.

This is the album that most effectively and concisely demonstrates Zevon’s lacerating wit as a lyricist and his mastery of the popular song form. ‘The French Inhaler’, so over the top it borders on camp, is, quite literally, an outrageous kiss-off to Tule Livingston. It’s difficult to beat a lyric like ‘Loneliness and desperation – we both came down with an acute case/But when the lights came up at two/I caught a glimpse of you/And your face looked like something death brought with him in his suitcase.’ Ouch! In the sleevenotes, Jordan Zevon admits he has to accept the brilliance of those lines, even though they were apparently directed at his mother.

The riotously entertaining ‘Poor, Poor Pitiful Me’, which puts its protagonist in the terrifying clutches of numerous predatory young women, has one of Zevon’s most ridiculous rhymes: ‘She really worked me over good, she was a credit to her gender/ She put me through some changes, lord, sort of like a Waring blender’. Towards the end of the song, it gets even better. Zevon’s next encounter takes him to a hotel room at the‘Hyatt House, but it’s too terrible to put into words (‘I don’t want to talk about it’, Zevon shrugs). The superb ‘Mama Couldn’t Be Persuaded’ tells the story of Zevon’s parents, his mother ignoring all advice and marrying the gambler Bill. He sums up his own predicament succinctly – ‘stuck in the middle, I was the kid’. It’s opening lyric also demonstrates his great talent for kicking off with a gem (‘Gambler ambled down memory lane, looking for a game of chance…’). He’d write a few more pithy opening gambits in his career. You could never be eased gently into Zevon’s wild world – he would always throw you straight into the action.

The album exhibits Zevon’s broad range by showing his tender side too. ‘Hasten Down The Wind’, one of those great songs about conflicting desires for freedom and attachment is wistful and beautiful and one of the singer’s many superb ballads. The heroin song ‘Carmelita’, both candid and audacious, is also notable for its tenderness, although the fascinating 1974 demo version on the bonus disc turns it into something unexpectedly ragged, bawdy and celebratory.

Musically, the album is something of a triumph, with superb playing from a well-rehearsed and proficient band. Zevon scored his own string arrangements and there are some superb vocal contributions from a stellar array of guests including Linda Ronstadt (who would herself cover several of Zevon’s songs, memorably role reversing ‘Poor Poor Pitiful Me’) and Stevie Nicks. The Beach Boys’ Carl Wilson provided the memorable vocal arrangement that elevates the wonderful coda of ‘Desperadoes Under The Eaves’ and concludes the album. Perhaps these grandiose ballads are a little unfashionable now – it’s certainly a very fine line between them and something like Guns N’ Roses’ ‘November Rain’. Some might argue that only their brevity keeps them in check but with such literary lyrics and elaborate musicality, they somehow surpass mere heart-wrenching indulgence.

The stomping blues march of ‘I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead’ might provide the least musically adventurous moment on the album, but it’s also the perfect context for this tribute to carefree hedonism. Even the half-heartedly funky ‘Join Me In LA’ provides entertainment and is a reminder that Zevon’s musical influences went well beyond the country rock of most of his more conservative colleagues.

Throughout his career, Zevon would make other excellent records and equal many of these songs but he didn’t release another album of such consistent quality. Whilst this may therefore be the Zevon album most deserving of a 2-disc reassessment, it’s perhaps a shame that the bonus disc doesn’t introduce any unheard songs. Six previously unheard songs from 1974-76 did admittedly appear on the ‘Preludes’ odds-and-sods compilation that emerged last year, so perhaps that seam has already been mined. The demos are intriguing nonetheless, in that some of them show changes in vocal phrasing and, particularly in the case of ‘Carmelita’, show how the entire approach to a song could change between demo and full realisation. It is, however, the original finished article – meticulously arranged and delivered with a devastating combination of venom and charm – that best proves what a superb contribution Zevon made to modern songwriting. Let's have reissues of 'Mutineer', 'Transverse City' and 'Bad Luck Streak In Dancing School' now, please...

Critical Thinking

Critical Distortions - Natalie Clein, Shiva Feshareki, Simon Fisher-Turner.
Kings Place, London, 2nd December 2008

‘Critical Distortions’ is a collaboration between three artists from what, at least on the surface, appear like very different worlds. There’s Natalie Clein, the 1994 Young Musician of the Year winner and virtuosic Cellist, Simon Fisher-Turner, the electronic sound artist probably best known for his work for Derek Jarman’s film ‘Blue’ and the young composer Shiva Feshareki, currently studying with Mark-Anthony Turnage at the Royal College of Music. I’ve been waiting a while for this intriguing proposition to arrive in London and the new Kings Place venue (lovely once you get into the music rooms but rather corporate and soulless in its lobbies) have opted to heighten the ‘look at us, we’re contemporary’ atmosphere by not providing any proper seating. There are beanbags but not nearly enough of them! The floor is hard! Mercifully the music, whilst certainly challenging, is not nearly so discomforting.

Shiva has, somewhat hilariously, been introduced as ‘The DJ’ in some of the publicity for these concerts, as if she is the first and only person to ever spin two records on a set of decks. Actually, tonight’s performance gives some credence to this implication, so inventively does Shiva transform her turntables into a credible musical instrument.

Her piece ‘Critical Distortions’ is the centrepiece of the evening and is an audacious work of real quality. Part of a series of compositions exploring the urban environment of bustling London, it is visceral, confident and aggressive but also rich in nuance and detail. Shiva places strong emphasis on honesty as the essential element of successful composing and performing. She admits tonight that, being human, a lack of subtlety isn’t necessarily negative. It is often good to say what we really mean and sometimes stark, undisguised language is the best means of communication.

Perhaps the piece is unsubtle in its effect, only in that the responses it inspires are as much physical and emotional as they are intellectual. The refreshing aspect of this approach is that there is clearly no need for one to understand the technical aspects of her compositional process – the conceptual and gestural aspects of it are far more significant. She captures the inherent links between experience, feeling, language and environment.

Having said that, it’s clear that the meticulous scoring and rehearsing that has gone into this project have paid dividends. There are some clear reasons why this piece and its performance have worked so well. There’s a strong emphasis on rhythm which makes the music both exciting and insistent. Perhaps more importantly, Shiva has given patient and careful thought to the range of sound and timbre that can be drawn from both instruments, and also to how the two can be most effectively integrated. Exposing that any dichotomy between acoustic and electronic is likely to be false is not a particularly new idea – but it’s rare that a pairing of seemingly disparate instruments manages to sound so convincingly like a dialogue. This is the sort of novel project that in lesser hands could be a total disaster, but Shiva and Natalie have rehearsed this piece so thoroughly that it seems like a real shared experience being communicated to its audience.

I’m not really an expert on classical music and this is the first time I’ve seen Natalie Clein perform, but her playing is a total revelation for me. She seems completely absorbed in the music. Her movements, somehow both completely relaxed and attacking, are transfixing and the sound produced by them even more so. Her reverent performance of part of the Kodaly Cello Sonata, which by virtue of its Eastern European sonority sounds very otherworldly and entrancing to my ears, is quite overwhelming.

Simon Fisher-Turner’s contributions are nowhere near as excoriating as his extraordinary Jarman soundtrack, rather more serene and hypnotic. This makes his role, in spite of the ubiquitous laptop, perhaps the most conventional and comfortable of the three. His duet with Clein starts off disconnected but ends blissfully entwined and somewhat catatonic. Clein seems slightly apologetic for Fisher-Turner and Shiva’s meddling with her tribute to Pablo Casals and the Bach Cello Suites but I felt they worked well by managing to combine playful irreverence with creativity and respect.

The world of contemporary music really needs this kind of boundary breaking, co-operative spirit. Musicians need to seek new contexts and pitch themselves outside their comfort zones if they are to develop further. The music must speak to broader audiences, without losing its artistry, and, through this process, direct listeners into new areas. I feel inspired to explore the worlds of Kodaly and Bach in a little more depth as a result of attending this unique performance.

If this wasn’t inspiration enough – we’re treated backstage to a private performance from Natalie and, once again, I walk out into London’s enthralling night feeling that little bit more alive.

The Price of Genius

Keith Jarrett, Royal Festival Hall, December 1st 2008

If there has been a common thread in much of the live music I’ve witnessed in 2008 – it’s been a strong sense of occasion, rarity and, along with that, financial expense. Credit Crunch be damned - Leonard Cohen, Stevie Wonder and, now, Keith Jarrett – they’ve all been event gigs with very high ticket prices (only Wonder failed to deliver value for money though – two out of three ain’t bad).

These days, Keith Jarrett is as much a self-proclaimed living legend as a widely respected pioneer. He performs infrequently and places heavy demands on his audience. Fortunately for him, they all adore him rather uncritically and are all too happy to be berated and chastised for using cameras or, heaven forbid, coughing. Coughing, apparently, is ‘a sign of boredom and inattention’. I suspect on this chilly evening in early December, it was more likely a sign of a common cold going around.

Even if Jarrett is basically right, his comments surely invite the response that it’s his job to sustain the audience’s attention. Now paid astronomical fees for these one-off performances, he’s probably earning twice as much in one night as many of these affluent punters earn all year (more like five times my annual salary). We have paid our money, and we surely deserve his respect as much as he deserves ours. No star is bigger than the audience that enables them to perform. This doesn’t mean that audiences should not be challenged and have their ingrained prejudices questioned – but that they should always be treated with respect. Also, younger musicians just beginning to build their audiences ultimately have to endure far worse – murmuring conversations during the performance, drunkenness, heckling. The odd cough is ultimately nothing much to worry about in comparison.

He can get away with this kind of contemptible and condescending behaviour because he is, even now, still the very best. Whilst the more hard-working Herbie Hancock has settled into a comfortable and repetitive routine, Jarrett still plays with a physicality and primal urgency that is basically sexual. All those grunts, moans and groans that his critics could never abide, whilst now perhaps less prevalent, are still there – accompanied by quite extraordinary physical gestures. He stands up when he’s especially impassioned, almost humping the piano. There really is as much physical ecstasy as cerebral effort involved in the process of making music for this man.

He has certainly stopped innovating now, performing exclusively with his Standards Trio and as a solo pianist. There have been no fresh contexts whatsoever for many years. Perhaps this is something to do with the effects of the chronic fatigue syndrome he endured for some time, or perhaps it’s inextricably linked with his very conscious rejection of the process of composition. Whatever the reason, this admittedly outstanding concert doesn’t offer much that’s new or unpredictable.

What it does achieve, with a generosity of spirit not evident in Jarrett’s irascible outward personality, is a very contrived but hugely satisfying summary of all the key strands of his long career. The pieces are short in comparison with his brilliant extended improvised concerts that are so revered (Koln, Paris, Bremen and Vienna especially) – but we still have the recordings for that. These concise expositions of his central concerns are expressive and move from the tightly controlled to the unrepentantly emotional.

Jarrett has said ‘the older a person gets, the more simplicity is profound – timing is the complex part of simplicity’. Much of this concert was an inspiring illustration of his point. He plays lush or impressionistic pieces with a very strong harmonic base and occasionally even indulges himself with a twelve bar blues. Yet it’s the way he develops these forms, with a language that is fluent both lyrically and rhythmically, that truly astonishes. He always imbues this flowing, spontaneous music with emotional depth, even at his most ponderous and reflective (as in the opening piece). The blues pieces he performs tonight border on barrelhouse boogie cliche at times (particularly the playful encore), but there’s always an intriguing ambiguity as to whether they are being played with a four to the bar or two to the bar feel, which creates palpable tension.

Elsewhere, there’s an example of his more atonal preoccupations, during which he also gets to exercise his considerable dexterity and four encores which offer concessions to other aspects of his work. There’s a rare outing for one of his most affecting compositions (‘My Song’) and a swooning, thoroughly charming take on ‘Over the Rainbow’. The audience are understandably elated and I’m left speechless with mirth at Jarrett’s pompous long bows and clasped hands act.

During this protracted ceremony I’m struck by the observation that even the very best, with all their ego and conviction, have some kind of vulnerability. After so many years at the highest level, Jarrett still needs this level of rapture and devotion from his followers. If it’s what he feeds on, perhaps this makes his snarly outbursts less objectionable.

The Years Fly By But End Slowly

So, the albums of the year lists are starting to arrive, still before we’ve even hit December although mercifully that little bit later this year. This still means there will be some notable late-release omissions though (Fennesz’s ‘Black Sea’ appears to be creeping out next week). This year, MOJO has got in first – and no surprise that its album of the year gong goes to the increasingly ubiquitous Fleet Foxes. I like the record a lot - although it won’t top my list - but I wonder whether it isn’t one of those debuts so fully formed that its creators will struggle to progress any further with the next one. We will have to wait and see.

As ever, MOJO indulges itself with some ludicrous selections. Anyone who considers Weller’s ’22 Dreams’ to be avant-garde and original simply hasn’t heard the Alice Coltrane music that supposedly inspired him. The Last Shadow Puppets is an endearing record, but if it’s the second best album of the year then we are really living in creatively moribund times. Elsewhere, there’s much worse – the turgid Glasvegas at 7, the ghastly Oasis propping up the list at 50 (a token entry for which there is no coherent argument provided), Mercury Rev’s twee ‘Snowflake Midnight’ at 22,Goldfrapp at 38, the overrated MGMT at 36.

It must be conceded that some choices are genuinely surprising though. There’s Goldmund’s haunting minimal piano sketches at 44 (although I’d argue that Max Richter merited an entry too), The Neil Cowley Trio at 49 (not my favourite jazz record of the year but it’s good to see a nod to it), Flying Lotus at 47, Gavin Bryars as reworked by Philip Jeck at 37 (although Jeck’s own sublime ‘Sand’ probably deserves a mention too), Kasai Allstars at 33 (so much better than the disappointing Amadou and Mariam record, placed higher at 21), The Bug at 9.

Uncut again wins the award for best review of the year package – with its lavish collection of lists of just about everything, padded out by voluminous banality and trivia. It’s all quite fun of course. It’s particularly helpful for its comprehensive polls on reissues and compilations, books (both fiction and music) and films as well as the usual Top 50 of the year. I used to like Uncut more when it was as devoted to film and literature as it was to music.

Once again, the main magazine’s list goes somewhat against the critical grain, and it’s gratifying to see that some people have noticed just what a superb, uncompromising triumph Portishead’s ‘Third’ is. Much like their choice of LCD Soundsystem last year, it seems to challenge the ingrained prejudices of both the magazine’s editor (whose unsurprising personal choice was The Hold Steady) and its core readership. This is a good thing, and its democratic polling procedures and open-mindedness should be encouraged. MOJO has probably had the bolder cover features and better articles – but Uncut has the edge on the criticism at the moment. Other intriguing and pleasing selections include TV On The Radio at 3 (I initially thought ‘Dear Science’ was overrated but it's growing on me), Neon Neon at 7, James Blackshaw at 13 (a wonderful boost for this niche artist), Hot Chip at 15, Shearwater at 19 (a record I’ve been pointed towards but haven’t actually heard), Gnarls Barkley at 30 (a superb mainstream pop record ignored elsewhere), Earth at 36, Toumani Diabate at 35, F*ck Buttons at 34, The Week That Was at 40. That’s a refreshingly diverse cross-section from the year.

Of course, the list is not free from its moments of insanity. Surely MGMT are just a flash-in-the-pan hype band? I still fail to see much merit at all in the turgid plodding of Glasvegas or the ‘bucolic’ irritations of the Goldfrapp record. It also looks like Weller’s supposed ‘return to form’ is going to grace yet more top tens. I also can’t help feeling that Stephen Malkmus’ current emphasis on noodling guitar solos is a distraction from his core qualities as a quirky songwriter. I can’t summon much enthusiasm for Sigur Ros anymore either, although I've heard intriguing reports about their recent Alexandra Palace concerts.

Omissions from both lists are too numerous to mention and I hope my own work-in-progress top 100 will point some people towards some of the more idiosyncratic and brave releases of the year. It’s certainly odd to find Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy absent from these polls – especially as Will Oldham has been responsible for two excellent albums of his own this year, as well as guesting on another (Susanna’s ‘Flower of Evil’). One significant point on omissions – if their writers can call Elvis Costello’s ‘Momofuku’ a ‘return to form’ in their comments on the Jenny Lewis album - why has it not been included in the list? With due respect to Jenny Lewis (whose ‘Acid Tongue’ I like more than most it seems), it’s a better record than hers. Regular readers will also be aware of my increasing exasperation at the use of the dread phrase ‘return to form’. You’ll have to wait until the closing stages of next month to find out where Costello, Susanna and many other overlooked curios feature in my list.

London Jazz Festival 2008

As ever, the London Jazz Festival offers a mouth-watering array of musical treats this year. Sadly, time constraints have left me only able to attend a handful of gigs, missing many of the main attractions. I would particularly have liked to see Bill Frisell’s performance soundtracking silent cinema. Never mind though – one of the undoubted plus points of this year’s festival has been the opportunity to wander off the beaten track a little, or to select gigs I wouldn’t otherwise have attended, such as Courtney Pine’s virtuosic and engaging performance.

There’s an impressive array of exciting talent on offer at Jazz on 3’s special late night festival launch gig at Ronnie Scott’s. It seems appropriate that Tom Cawley’s Curios, BBC Jazz Award winners, should open the entire festival with their short set tonight. Cawley’s piano playing is delicate, lucid and emotional, with a remarkable range of timbre and effect. Just as revelatory is the drumming of prodigious virtuoso Josh Blackmore, who not only has impressive technique but also possesses the sheer musicality and creativity to craft dramatic and suspenseful phrases across the drum kit. He must be one of the most exciting and original talents to emerge in London for many years and how encouraging it is that Cawley has acknowledged his potential. Cawley’s compositions are both playful and cerebral and whilst twenty minutes is by no means long enough to showcase the trio’s breathtaking interaction, it is more than long enough to demonstrate the sophistication and charm of their music.

Vincent Herring’s group, who had also performed the main official set earlier in the evening, were less impressive by some distance. They opened with some generic if mildly enjoyable fusion but follow it with dated synth pads and bland melodies that veered far closer to the lite jazz of Grover Washington and George Benson than is comfortable for me. Somehow it all became tremendously bland and disengaging with alarming rapidity. I rather liked the observation of one of my friends in the audience: ‘To play a synth like that is bad enough, but to play it when there’s a Fender Rhodes underneath it is a criminal offence!’ Another friend’s observation about the uncommon situation of the band being all black musicians save for a white drummer sparked a lengthy conversation about race issues in jazz history which proved considerably more stimulating than the group’s music.

Steve Bernstein’s piano-less Millenial Territory Band had a playful quality that somehow managed to treat the American jazz tradition with both respect and gleeful irreverance. The performance came with a peculiar ragged charm and a general sense of off-the-cuff disorganisation. They concluded with a wryly amusing and rousing arrangement of The Beatles’ ‘All You Need Is Love’. This proved that even one of the most overplayed songs from one of the most over-exposed groups can still be delivered with fresh vigour when the context is refreshed.

The unrelenting assault provided by the new trio of Ken Vandermark, Barry Guy and Mark Sanders probably offended anyone with an aversion to free improvisation but, for me, was a visceral and thrilling example of spontaneous alchemy. This is not music completely devoid of rules or strategy, but rather a music whereby a map is being charted in front of our very eyes and ears. In this case, it had a lot to do with experimenting with sound and colour. Sanders manages to get pitched notes from meticulously controlled cymbal scrapes, whilst Guy can vary the mood by oscillating between deep, rich, long notes, bowed bass and a sharp, staccato, attacking voice. Vandermark is a master of the aggressive, angry, volatile form of playing. Perhaps this fiery form of expression could benefit from more tenderness but with such short set times, there’s really not enough space to unravel its full potential.

Even Camden’s tiny but wonderful Green Note venue has been getting in on the Festival action this year, with a mouth-watering line-up of fresh talent. Huw Jones’ Neon Bedroom had a dream line-up, benefitting from the muscular saxophone of Tom Challenger, the expressive but empathetic drumming of Josh Morrison and the warm sound and creative improvising of Freddie Gavita. If the improvising is sometimes uncharacteristically tentative from these more frequently questing young musicians, the compositions are sophisticated and compelling. There’s a niggling sense that a certain spark or dynamism is missing, but this will surely develop over more performances. Following the group is a new quartet lead by saxophonist Pete Fraser which is a thrilling demonstration of exposition and spontaneity. The themes are mostly spacious and the creative playing of the group (which includes Nick Ramm of Oriole and Fulborn Teversham on keys and the outstanding drummer Tom Skinner) brings spirit and charisma to the occasion. It’s an auspicious start for what will hopefully become an established, successful and challenging group.

The pairing of Courtney Pine and Empirical made sense for more than the obvious reason that Empirical are signings to Pine’s label. Both groups seem to be going through a stage of looking back in order to move forward. Empirical now have a new line-up and have changed radically as a result (vibes player Lewis Wright replaces prodigious pianist Kit Downes). Their set tonight is built from their current project researching and arranging the music of Eric Dolphy – as such, it’s a much more liberated group than the hip swinging band of last year. It’s a technically accomplished performance but one that also remains very much in touch with the blues. Perhaps a little more fire and certainty would have been appreciated. A surprising lack of confidence is evident in the lengthy, ill-judged onstage chat, perhaps suggesting that the group have been elevated to a massive commercial prospect a little too early.

Pine’s set surprised me with its vitality, wit and warmth. Whilst I’ve always respected his virtuosic talents, some of his recordings have drifted a little too far into the middle of the road for my tastes. Tonight, perhaps paradoxically, saw him push back to the edges by rediscovering the tradition of the music. His latest project is partially a tribute to the music of Sidney Bechet and, as such, is steeped in the rhythms and nuances of New Orleans. Drummer Robert Forger, with his varied passions for swing and hip hop, is a master of the groove, and Pine plays with renewed vigour. Performing only on soprano sax and bass clarinet, Pine frequently defies the laws of physics in some of the sounds he draws from each. In his hands, the clarinet really does become like a drum. Omar Puente’s violin enhances the free spirited, folksy vibe of the performance and Alex Wilson’s latin-tinged Piano is, as always, rhythmically adventurous, although he could have been afforded more soloing space. Indeed, perhaps the only quibble with this fiery, energetic performance is that there is a little too much of Pine’s dexterity, and not enough individual contributions from his excellent band. The gig ends with something approaching a lecture from Pine, after his group have left the stage – ostensibly to promote the new CD, but also to draw attention to the worthiness of British jazz and the vital role of played by the LJF in promoting it.

The final gig of my festival certainly provided something completely different. A collaboration between the Homemade Orchestra (itself a meeting of minds between jazz saxophonist Tim Whitehead and composer Colin Riley) and children’s poet Michael Rosen, this gig proved not just hysterically funny but also creatively sophisticated. Rosen’s nonsense poems are ostensibly expressions of the simple joys of inventive rhyming, but many of them are not as nonsensical as they might first appear. Their scheming wordplay and sharp observations on commercialism and chaotic modern life offer food for thought for grown-ups too. Whitehead and Riley’s music is sophisticated, but in an apposite way – it is by turns slithery, slimy, frantic and mischievous. The quotations from Match of the Day and The Simpsons theme raise a smile, but the hilarious deployment of various toys and gizmos, combined with unashamedly physical playing provide both support and a neat counterpoint to Rosen’s exaggerated readings. Whilst space for improvising is understandably limited, this provided a brilliant introduction to the worlds of jazz and contemporary composition for the younger members of the audience as well as breathtaking entertainment for all.

So, whilst it seems a shame to have missed the likes of Chick Corea and John McLaughlin, Bill Frisell and Jack de Johnette, this slightly less predictable pathway through the festival proved remarkably rewarding. It’s good to find that the festival continues to offer variety and excitement for a dedicated audience.

Austerity and Sadness

Susanna - Flower of Evil (Rune Grammofon, 2008)

Susanna Wallumrod is one of the most prolific and uncompromising artists currently at work, with four albums in as many years to her name. Whilst last year’s ‘Sonata Mix Dwarf Cosmos’ focussed on her own writing, ‘Flower of Evil’ represents a return to the interpretative role she first adopted with her Magical Orchestra, although the orchestra is now no longer credited. Wallumrod remains remorselessly single-minded in her approach. Anyone hoping for a change of style or pace from her previous work, which veered between the melancholy and funereal, will not find it here. She seems very much dedicated to ploughing the same meticulous furrow with every release.

There are, however, some subtle nuances and variations to her method here that help her sustain a process that might otherwise have run dry. There’s now less focus on wispy electronics and more on Susanna’s own glacial piano playing, which makes for a more organic sound. The texture is enhanced and moods heightened by the guitar playing of Supersilent’s Helge Sten.

Luckily, this means she hasn’t suddenly embraced showy virtuosity either – the X Factor school of singing is never even hinted at here. Instead, there’s a kind of dignified restraint – an icy exterior that barely conceals untold depths of emotion. One of Susanna’s great skills as a singer is to alter the impact and perception of a song so radically as to make it her own. There are some extremely judicious song selections on ‘Flower of Evil’ that really play to her strengths.

Turning Thin Lizzy’s macho ‘Jailbreak’ into a heartbreaking ballad seems like one of her most perverse moves to date. Like her version of AC/DC’s ‘It’s A Long Way To The Top’, it succeeds not so much in feminising the song (she still refers to ‘me and the boys’) but in locating the vulnerability, inadequacy, perhaps even the impotence inherent in male aggression. It becomes a song of frustration, anguish and repression in her hands.

Even better is her extraordinary reading of Abba’s ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’, which draws out the full extent of the desperation in the lyric. It becomes less about desire and much more about possession and control. It’s a reminder that for all their garish, giddy, camp appeal, Abba’s most significant achievement was often to set tremendously painful words to music so infectious that it became imprisoned in the brain. Their music really was a form of mental torture.

Perhaps ‘Who Knows Where The Time Goes’ is a step too far into the realms of greatness, for no amount of remodelling could really improve on Sandy Denny’s peerless delivery. Having said that, I understand that Cat Power also took on the song for the ‘Jukebox’ sessions, no doubt straying wildly away from the original melody in the process. Susanna’s version simply re-emphasises the cautious beauty of the original, and has made me want to return to those wonderful Fairport Convention and Sandy Denny albums, really some of the best examples of British popular music.

Elsewhere, there are some less ubiquitous, more recherché choices, as well as two thematically and musically connected original compositions. ‘Dance On’ is an unusual, underrated choice of Prince song, whilst takes on Tom Petty’s ‘Don’t Come Around Here No More’ and Black Sabbath’s ‘Changes’ both soften the source material and provide new, spidery intricacies. It’s also good to hear her take on the mysterious, difficult terrain of a Will Oldham song with ‘Joy and Jubilee’.

Indeed, for all Susanna’s undoubted individual talents, perhaps this album’s most major coup is the presence of Will Oldham himself on a couple of tracks. He not only lends his voice to the aforementioned ‘Jailbreak’ but also to a mordant, reflective and highly moving rendition of Badfinger’s ‘Without You’. In all honesty, I’ve never really liked this song – particularly since Mariah Carey’s histrionic caterwauling made it so thoroughly dislikeable. Yet there’s something very different about this version. The dynamic never gets above a hushed whisper and the whole atmosphere seems both muted and haunted. There’s also something profound and deeply felt in the way Susanna and Oldham begin by singing separate parts but find their voices interweaved and eventually inseparable as the song progresses. This structural device brings out the song’s theme in a way that no amount of false emoting and vocal power ever could.

This last thought brings me neatly on to what I consider the essence of Susanna’s artistry. Though her voice occasionally quivers, it is completely devoid of the usual tricks and conventions deployed to try and move an audience – it is totally without artifice. Whilst the result of this is a certain kind of coldness or austerity, it is by no means without feeling. Indeed, her version of Kiss’ ‘Crazy Crazy Nights’ remains one of the saddest, most affecting pieces of music I’ve heard in the last few years, and the versions of ‘Jailbreak’, ‘Without You’ and ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’ included here come close to matching that song’s faded grandeur.

Three Cheers For Self-Indulgence!

Max Tundra - Parallax Error Beheads You (Domino, 2008)

We’ve been waiting for six long years for Ben Jacobs to follow-up the exquisite ‘Mastered By Guy At The Exchange’ but now we finally have another helping of his ingeniously quirky electro. ‘Parallax Error Beheads You’ is an irony-laden confection, full of unpredictable twists and turbulent, spasmodic rhythms. It’s something you will either find unbearably grating or frantically, deliriously entertaining.

Jacobs has a penchant for synth sounds that might well sound dated or even irrelevant in any other context (‘The Entertainment’ isn’t all that far from 2 Unlimited if we’re honest). Luckily, he’s also crafted his own fiendishly intricate editing and compositional process (everything is produced on an outmoded Amiga), which subordinates some of his more questionable tastes to a broader musical intuition. Jacobs also has the kind of silky, saccharine voice that makes this irreverent subversion of pop completely irresistible. He shares the subdued softness of Green Gartside.

Jacobs’ elaborate, unstoppable music works in much the same way as the writing of the late great David Foster Wallace (indeed titling one song ‘The Entertainment’ suggests he may have immersed himself in Wallace’s magnum opus ‘Infinite Jest’). It’s restless, indulgent and, at least on the surface, chaotic and random – but it’s also insightful, richly humorous and based on its own unique systems. There’s a sense here that no volume of ideas is ever too much – that this music can be extravagantly dense and still somehow mesmerising. With the added element of self-deprecating comedy, Max Tundra comes across as something like an electronic Frank Zappa.

I’m most drawn to the tracks where the melodies are as imaginative as the glitchy, unpredictable rhythms in the backing tracks. The bouncy ‘Which Song’ comes with barrels of charm and is the closest Jacobs comes here to replicating the classic Scritti Politti sound. ‘Number Our Days’ somehow manages to make nihilism sound cheery, whilst ‘Glycaemic Index Blues’ veers out on numerous stimulating tangents.

The self-mocking lyrics match the twitchy neuroses of the music. ‘Will Get Fooled Again’, a rapid, overheated dissection of online relationships (‘I met the girl on Google Image Search/She was in the background of a picture of a church’) sounds so nervous that it might explode. Elsewhere, there’s plenty of quasi-geeky ruminations on lack of success with women and perennial singledom. One song is even an ode of love to his keyboard (‘Nord Lead Three’ – it’s good to know he’s got good taste).

The epic 11-minute finale ‘Until We Die’ is utterly shameless in owing as much of a debt to ELO as Squarepusher. It has some of the archness of Daft Punk’s ‘Discovery’ album. Its languid mid-section is also the only point on ‘Parallax Error…’ where Jacobs allows the intense pace to dissipate a little, and for some space to creep in. But even this is rendered in an asymmetrical time signature.

It’s hard to believe that an album that indulges its creator’s every whim could possibly be quite as enjoyable as ‘Parallax Error…’ undoubtedly is. It is a rampant, near-rabid document of a frenzied mind that seemingly cannot be contained. Hearing these outpourings is like death by chocolate.

Never Likely To Be Lost For Words

Okkervil River - Shepherd's Bush Empire 11/11/08

Will Sheff isn’t wasting any time tonight. He introduces the first song but then directs his band towards blasting through a number of songs in quick succession without so much as a pause. He’s every bit as intense and melodramatic in performance as even a casual listen to Okkervil River’s dense, verbose, highly dramatic songs might suggest. He loosens his tie, flirts with the microphone and bursts on to the drum riser to have a fiery stare off with the drummer. Every gesture is exaggerated and overstated, to the extent that his genuine debt of gratitude to the audience could be misinterpreted as mocking insincerity.

It’s not exactly clear how Okkervil River now manage to fill out venues of the size and grandeur of the Shepherd’s Bush Empire. They haven’t exactly received vast amounts of column inches in the UK, although Uncut’s editor Allan Jones and his wife are visibly enjoying the show from a prime vantage point on the first level balcony. Perhaps it’s the Pitchfork effect (the band’s breakthrough album ‘Black Sheep Boy’ received a justifiably rapturous review from the influential taste-making website) or perhaps it’s simply good old fashioned word of mouth. I’m certainly surprised by the relative youth of the audience – one might expect this rather unhip and literary brand of songwriting to have a slightly older demographic.

Tonight’s performance isn’t perfect – but then Okkervil River is a band that depends on a kind of ragged glory for its impact. The vocal harmonies could do with a bit of work and there are times when Sheff’s lack of patience threatens to undermine the performance – he seems to begin singing ‘The Latest Toughs’ in a completely different key from the rest of the band. The nuances of the songs are also occasionally threatened by one of those drummers who seem to view drumming as method acting. He rarely plays anything particularly adventurous but still seems to make the basic act of keeping time look as physically demanding as running a marathon. He also has a very limited dynamic range – hard and loud to extremely hard and loud. There are times when the group look in danger of becoming a rather conventional soft rock ensemble, anchored by an occasionally leaden pace. It’s inevitable that a smaller working band would miss some of the lavish flourishes of their more ornate studio arrangements – but sometimes this level of bludgeoning is too extravagant.

Nevertheless, when Sheff is in full flight, he brings these extraordinary songs to vivid and cinematic life. He luxuriates in the spellbinding power of language, using each song to tell a story, sometimes pausing simply to linger on the pattern and flow of his words. Even songs which are based largely on an intellectual conceit (the opening ‘Plus Ones’ is based on a string of references to songs with numbers in their titles, adding an extra number to the original – ’97 Tears’, ‘The 51st way to leave your lover’, ‘8 Chinese Brothers’ etc) become something insightful and devastating in his hands. Best of all is his rare willingness to write from a female perspective (the astonishingly beautiful ‘Starry Stairs’ and ‘On Tour with Zykos’). There are some examples of women writing from a male vantage point (the excellent Sylvie Lewis springs immediately to mind), but fewer from the other way around. Sadly not performed tonight, the early Okkervil song ‘Red’ related the story of a female dance yearning for her separated daughter.

The set list is judiciously selected, with most of the key tracks from ‘The Stage Names’ and its more recent sequel ‘The Stand-Ins’ getting welcome airings (although the stellar ‘Calling and Not Calling My Ex’ is a notable omission). For me, though, the performance provided a timely reminder of just how excellent ‘Black Sheep Boy’ was, by comparison barely registering in this country. Sheff’s stripped back performance of ‘A Stone’ (during which he sadly has to command the audience to stop yacking) is supremely moving. The more aggressive ‘Black’ and ‘For Real’ (the latter notable for its visceral stop-start stabs from the band) pack a more muscular punch. Dipping into the back catalogue, Sheff also delivers the morally complex and remarkable ‘The War Criminal Rises and Speaks’ (‘Does the heart want to atone? Oh, I believe that it’s so, because if I could climb back through time I’d restore their lives and give back my own…’).

Sheff’s best songs alternate between an affecting melancholy and a rousing spirit of adventure. The very best ones combine the two, as on the wonderful ‘Lost Coastlines’, which uses seafaring metaphors to detail the perilous experience of being in a touring band. It’s one of the few such self-referential songs to manage to be moving in a much wider sense. It gives a strong sense of human relationships – the way being in a band, where everyone’s greatest passions, not to mention their finances, are at stake, can be unpredictable and dangerous, yet also thrilling. It’s a situation where the bonds of friendship can be severely tested but are most often repaired. It becomes a big audience singalong tonight. During the closing ‘Unless It’s Kicks’, Sheff has no shame in commanding the audience to raise their hands and clap with vigour. In fact, the show’s closing 20 minute stretch is as invigorating and uplifting as I’ve experienced this year.

Even better still is the encore. There’s the haunting, mesmerising ‘Girl In Port’, followed by two much earlier songs featuring two of Sheff’s most compelling narratives. ‘Okkervil River Song’ is about as keening and convincing a description of young lovers as I can remember, whilst ‘Westfall’, inspired by the Austin, Texas Yogurt Shop murders, talks of motiveless killing with dispassionate frankness. It ends with some chilling words: ‘Now, with all these cameras focused on my face you’d have thought they could see it through my skin/They’re looking for evil, thinking they can trace it, but evil don’t look like anything…’ It’s a strange choice of fan favourite.

Lyrically, Sheff is without doubt in the highest league. In fact, this seems to be a particularly exciting time for American alternative rock groups with literary imaginations – Iron and Wine, The Decemberists, The Mountain Goats – all share an unconventional and wordy writing style with OR.

Nick Golding remarked to me on the way home that the sound balance was unusually clear and carefully mixed. Whilst I sometimes struggled to hear Scott Bracken’s trumpet, it’s certainly true that Sheff’s voice came through booming with disarming clarity. It’s far too frequent a problem at gigs that so much reverb is applied to a lead singer’s voice that any attempt at enunciation is obscured. Mercifully, this was not the case tonight. Perhaps this made Sheff’s occasional pitching issues more conspicuous – but this is a small price to pay for being able to hear and understand his lucid, brave and highly original words.