(If you missed it, the list of 20 favorite albums from 2015 is here!)

I.

First, not an honorable mention and not an additional favorite song, but important. We’ll call it Omission Of Note:

Kendrick Lamar — To Pimp a Butterfly

We all have our favorite musical genres. But you can’t live in a little indie/folk/rock/pop bubble and pretend that rap isn’t being created and isn’t having an enormous impact. And when an album is hailed as the defining statement of our time, released by the greatest rapper of a generation… well, everyone needs to pay attention.

The opposite of ignoring To Pimp a Butterfly is tempting but also be troublesome. Can you immediately declare you Get It? Can you really speak authoritatively as you congratulate yourself for “recognizing and respecting” its genius and reflexively plunk it at the top of your 2015 list, without really getting it yet?

The still-evolving listening experience is powerful but also difficult, unsettling and awkward. The music is not immediately accessible and comfortable — because, guess what, it shouldn’t be. It’s the height of racial self-centeredness to think that everything should be conveniently packaged to those it is not immediately written for.

As kris ex wrote on Pitchfork: All of this Blackness is important. Important because sometimes white people need to take a metaphorical seat — to sit down, shut up, and listen to conversations in which they are a cultural object, not the center. This is not an easy task. White people have been way too comfortable for way too long in this country, in this world.

I need to keep listening. Honest, careful, thoughtful listening doesn’t merit an award, and it’s not the central story. It’s just a critical first step.

II.

Five quality 2015 releases that didn’t quite make my top 20 list but certainly merit a mention:

Alanis Morissette – Jagged Little Pill (2015 Remaster)

I owned this iconic album on cassette in sixth grade. Which meant casually leafing through the liner notes during school breaks to seem tough, and innocently misunderstanding nearly every lyric. What a difference 20 years — not to mention remastered and CD-quality audio — makes. New instrumental layers emerge in the mix, and songs like “Perfect” and “Forgiven” deliver gut-punch lines on human behavior and realities. Revisiting this album might’ve even reoriented my attention on few members of a new generation of female musicians with similarly honest, raw lyrics who wound up being 2015 favorites.

The Antlers – In London

Having seen The Antlers in concert for the first time this year, I can verify that they are absolutely in the “even better live than recorded” band category. The vocals are more emotional, the dramatic guitar passages are louder and more frenetic, and a real, live trumpeter (a rarity among average modern indie bands) adds an unexpected intensity. Each live track also features a couple minutes of vocal-less introduction — like an orchestral warmup or a gentle, wandering interlude — before the song coalesces. All this is captured on In London, a special vinyl-only release.

Rhett Miller – The Traveler

Whether as part of the Old 97’s or on his own, Rhett Miller somehow always as a new album out. Even more impressively, they’re usually pretty high-quality. Backed by Portland-based bluegrass group Black Prairie, The Traveler offers the usual smart storytelling — complete with lovelorn characters and wry plot twists — wrapped into catchy pop choruses and adds new instrumental textures. While the album lacks the Nashville Skyline-style cozy country intimacy that made The Dreamer my favorite of his four solo records, the fiddling and guitar-picking seamlessly complement these tunes without ever feeling trendy or overdone.

Son Little – Son Little

Discovered purely by chance when I fell in love with the classic 1960s soul sound of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home and scrolled through a list of “similar artists,” Son Little’s self-titled album spans numerous decades and styles, incorporating thumping blues-rock beats, folk grittiness, modern hip-hop elements and electronic flourishes. The high-energy blend contrasts with the frequently quietly despondent lyrical mood — a perfect combination for catharsis.

James Taylor – Before This World

Does James Taylor strike you as Mom Music? That’s quite all right. I grew up listening to him and pretended to dislike him for a while, but eventually realized he’s a legendary singer/songwriter for a reason. Before This World covers a range of topical and emotional ground, from the sweet tearjerker “Angels of Fenway” to the gentle seize-the-day anthem “Today, Today” to the chilling war commentary on “Far Afghanistan,” all delivered with that eternally smooth, soothing voice.

III.

Five songs I really liked from albums not on the list:

Amason – “Flygplatsen”

A really lovely pop song. It’s in Swedish, so I have nothing substantive (or otherwise) to say about the lyrics and only two unrelated observations to make: First, the descending opening notes (appear to be F-sharp, C-sharp, B — yes, I nerded it out on the keyboard) sound just like the beginning of Dawes’ “Things Happen” (B, F-sharp, E), though they’re in different keys. Second, it mentions piña coladas multiple times.

Chelsea Wolfe – “Crazy Love”

Multiple people recommended Chelsea Wolfe’s album Abyss as “more accessible” metal for someone who typically finds the genre overwhelming. Alas, my weakling ears still found some of the songs too heavy. This song — one of the album’s “lighter” tracks — skips some of the deepest, most droning guitar layers while keeping the dark edge, haunting string arrangements and beautifully restrained vocals.

Jazmine Sullivan – “Stupid Girl”

Spot-on commentary on relationships and their all-too-common results for women, dressed as a catchy anthem with bouncy vintage R&B beats and singalong background vocals. Despite the title, everything is laid out without judgment, with an “I’ve been there” first-person plural perspective: sometimes you just get swept up, but watch out.

Ryan Adams – “Style”

Why is a pop album suddenly “authentic” and worthwhile now that a dude has covered it and made it scruffy? The release of Ryan Adams’ version of 1989 sparked valid, important discussion about sexism in music and indie snobbery that can’t be isolated from the music itself. Ultimately, in 2015 I came around and liked the original album. These covers are also really good. especially this motorcycle-ready Springsteen-esque take on “Style.”

Weyes Blood – “Some Winters”

Discovered thanks to NPR’s annual SXSW present — a massive downloadable mix of songs by artists performing in Austin — this song, officially dubbed “experimental rock,” takes an intriguing journey. With a steady piano melody weaving through its core, it traverses multiple moods: at its folksiest moments, it’s reminiscent of classic Joan Baez music. Then it veers into a dreamlike electronica before splintering into a spooky, glitchy opera.

Next: 2016 favorites! Published promptly this time!

Not a Typo II: Honorable Mentions, Additional Favorite Songs of 2015 was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Twenty favorite albums, presented in alphabetical, unranked order. To my credit, I did write 90% of this last year.

Beach House – Depression Cherry

Beach House lyrics are painted with blurry watercolors; you perceive a few recognizable themes and outlines, but mostly just see mesmerizing colors and shapes. The gorgeous Depression Cherry seems to capture passage of time, its inevitability and the multitude of tiny losses it constantly creates. Less overtly “sad” than its title might connote, the album lulls with its gently looping drums and satisfying keyboard arpeggio resolutions, while minor keys and occasional discordant notes suggest a (possibly to-be-transcended) psychological heaviness and unease. Down to the deep red velvet-textured album sleeves, it’s an enveloping, transportive sensory experience.
Choice track: “PPP”

Beach House – Thank Your Lucky Stars

Somewhere, someone has created a personality test for Beach House fans based on their dual 2015 releases: Are You More Thank Your Lucky Stars or Depression Cherry? The latter scoops listeners up and swirls them around a twinkling, iridescent sky, while TLYS skulks around a dusty attic for a while. It’s not a bad thing: That dusty attic is filled with vintage organs, drum machines, and ambiguous scraps of stories. The scene cranks to life most beautifully on the closing track, “Somewhere Tonight,” which conjures elegantly painted carousel horses and tiny mechanical dancing figurines in velvet jewelry boxes.
Choice song: “Somewhere Tonight”

Leon Bridges – Coming Home

There are records influenced by past eras, and then there are straight-up flawlessly faithful re-creations of classic genres that transport you to another time. Coming Home, of course, is the latter, down to backup singers’ vocal style, the album art and audio production. Sung by someone born in 1989, this is classic 1960s soul music to sway and sing along to — it’s effortlessly smooth without ever being bland, sweet without ever being saccharine. It’s unlike anything else I heard this year, but probably an entry point into the history of a rich and previously under-explored genre.
Choice song: “Better Man”

Calexico – Edge of the Sun

Appearing surprisingly infrequently on the major year-end lists, Calexico’s eighth studio album once again transports us to the intriguing American Southwest. These days, the landscape feels more weathered and the mood feels wearier than before. Even on tracks with brightly harmonized pop structures or foot-tapping beats, gnawing anxiety pervades. On the opening track, “Falling From the Sky” an exuberant chorus melody and chiming keyboards belie its alarming central questions: “Where do you go when you have nowhere to fall? Where do you when you have no one to see?”
Choice track: “Tapping on the Line”

Dawes – All Your Favorite Bands

Even as they’ve grown more popular over the past few years, Dawes still seems to suffer from an unfortunate public misperception that music firmly anchored in styles of the past is derivative and boring — or that a laid-back, breezy Southern California mood denotes a lack of gritty spirit and “art” (see: The Eagles, even as Glenn Frey enjoyed some posthumous retroactive appreciation earlier this year). Truth: This is Dawes’ best album yet. The songs feel like instant classics — comfortingly warm and familiar, but wholly original in their detailed stories — and the musicianship has reached new, impressive heights.
Choice track: “Somewhere Along the Way”

Father John Misty – I Love You, Honeybear

Sure, this album might all be a cleverly executed joke. After repeated listens, I still can’t tell you for sure what percentage is earnest and what percentage is ironic. But the smart, hilarious lyrics won me over, whether lead character Mr. Misty is delivering hyper-realistic, pretentious social commentary (or, perhaps, satire of pretentious social commentary?), harping on the misuse of the word “literally” or just expressing genuine love. Musically, it’s a delightful, enthusiastic romp through the 1970s, from sweeping orchestral pop (Electric Light Orchestra!) to gentler, folksier singer-songwriter fare.
Choice song: “The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apt.”

Girlpool – Before the World Was Big

In 2014, I saw Girlpool three times as an opening band and Just Didn’t Get It. Then the video for “Chinatown” appeared. The album version — with its gently dialed-back tempo, muted acoustic guitars, and ever-so-slightly more restrained, hushed vocals — sounded like an older, wearier, wiser incarnation of what I’d heard on stage. Sonically, it really wasn’t that different at all, but it suddenly felt heartbreakingly beautiful and universal. Alas, those raw doubts, anxieties and longings that Girlpool expresses so powerfully throughout this album — whether through blunt statements or well-crafted metaphor — aren’t just for the young.
Choice song: “Chinatown”

Grimes – Art Angels

What is all the fuss about Grimes? My belated investigation came too late for the “indie purist” era of her earlier albums and the fan backlash that apparently accompanied the more mainstream/dance-pop-minded Art Angels, so I can only appreciate this album for what it is: an unique, captivating, and sometimes dizzying collage. There’s a satisfying nearly physical sense of physical collage layers, dominated by rough-edged, ripped-up rainbow construction paper, generous splashes of glitter paint, and enormous canvases scrawled with feathery jet-black ink of a fountain pen.
Choice song: “Flesh Without Blood”

Janet Jackson – Unbreakable

I owe my 2015 rediscovery of Janet Jackson to Mariah Carey. Twenty years before, “Runaway” and “Fantasy” simultaneously dominated top 40 radio for an entire summer, providing my introduction to both artists. Upon finally seeing Queen Mariah in concert, I started wondering what her fellow 1995 ruler was up to. Turns out she had released an excellent album. Unbreakable is heartfelt and irresistibly catchy, energetic yet restrained. It’s the music of a longtime master who’s in command. She doesn’t need to jump on trends; she knows what she (and her legendary songwriting team) can do is more than enough.
Choice song: “The Great Forever”

Lord Huron – Strange Trails

This year, I tried to branch out beyond my usual roots rock/Americana/indie-folk/whatever diet… until discovering another band that fits squarely in those boxes and created a fine 2015 album. Strange Trails is a seamless story. Not only does the atmosphere never allow us to escape the cold, desolate woods, but the music flows continuously from track to track, looping back to familiar melodies. Yes, every song kind of sounds the same. But as as the gripping tale of death, love, ghosts and regret unfolds, the uniformity somehow transforms from a curiosity to a deficiency to a cohesive strength.
Choice song: “Meet Me in the Woods”

The Mynabirds – Lovers Know

Alliteratively, it’s pretty, peppy pop that ponders pressing personal/philosophical perceptions. This surprise gem, discovered late in the year thanks to a year-end roundup on Saddle Creek Records’ email newsletter, got better with every listen. The propulsive, just-layered-enough synths and drumbeats recall 1980s dance music and 1990s top 40 radio in the best possible way, while the lyrical depth and rich vocal tone firmly ground the album. It’s like life truths delivered by a wise and very cool older sister. The perfect soundtrack for hiking a mountain while thinking about love, life and the universe.
Choice song: “Semantics”

Palehound – Dry Food

This album doesn’t sit still. Buzzing with emotion and big guitar chords, it slides through changes in key and tempo, and hits diverse corners of the vast “indie rock” space. There’s some jittery 90s rock, some scratchy and intimate “recorded in my basement” folk, some flourishes of psychedelic pop. But it’s the slightly abstract, off-kilter lyrics that truly encourage repeat listens. Like the words in a stream-of-consciousness novel, they don’t always make sense within each small phrase, but they collectively conjure up fascinating imagery and say something quite memorable.
Choice song: “Easy”

Natalie Prass – Natalie Prass

Any well-crafted, satisfying composition — from a gourmet dish to a perfume – needs balance. Push and pull. What makes this album so pleasing and so unexpected is the contrast between vocals and music. Led by strings and horns, the instrumental arrangements are generously layered and full of dynamic emotion. But her voice remains feather-thin and icily detached, gliding along the surface even as the songs descend into the deepest emotional valleys and soar into the most exuberant, nearly Disney Princess-esque melodies (“It Is You”). “Now she’s really going to belt it,” you keep thinking. And it never happens.
Choice Song: “Bird of Prey”

Josh Ritter – Sermon on the Rocks

What a year for longtime favorite artists to release their best works to date. In contrast to its predecessor — 2013’s inward-facing “divorce record” The Beast In Its Tracks — Sermon on the Rocks is gigantic and expansive (without being grandiose) in music and lyrics. I once read that the most resonant songs deal with The Big Three: love, religion, and time. SOTR doesn’t just grapple with these hemes; it flings them around, then contorts, reveres, flippantly challenges and ultimately celebrates them with driving beats, pure lyrical poetry — alternately dark and wry, literary and gripping — and boundless instrumentation.
Choice track: “Homecoming”

Nate Ruess – Grand Romantic

Not the album if you’re looking for subtlety and/or emotional detachment. Nate Ruess is, as the title helpfully informs us, a Grand Romantic who spends the album wrestling with that identity and the intense feelings that come with it. Exuberant, frenetic, dramatic and conflicted, he swings from proclamations of pure love and lust to confessions of regret to grave concerns about his family and mortality. Musically, the fully built out pop arrangements, complete with enormous, hook-laden choruses and swooping falsetto, harken back to fun.’s showtunes-eque, Queen-influenced and blissfully pre-Autotune era.
Choice song: “Great Big Storm”

San Fermin – Jackrabbit

Classical-influenced, string-heavy, multi-layered pop, with alternating male/female vocals and frequent noisy jolts and minor-key swoops to swerve into a new mood just when things might start feeling too calm or pretty. The evolution of the listening experience reminded me of understanding and appreciating the Dirty Projectors years ago. Are these dissonant bursts just inserted tor the sake of being edgy and avant-garde? Actually, no — they serve a purpose and work as part of the whole artistic composition. Odd, imaginative stories told through unique sounds.
Choice song: “Jackrabbit”

Shamir – Ratchet

The most immediately distinctive feature of this album is Shamir’s voice — a striking countertenor (thank you, NPR, for that educational tidbit). But what drove repeat listens was the winning formula of deceptively dark — if often flippant — lyrics wrapped in bouncy music. Disco and 90s dance-r&b influences lend a party-ready atmosphere until you notice that much like in his native Las Vegas, which appears as a lyrical theme in several tracks, there’s a gritty sadness often buried in this weird and ultimately fake cartoon-happy world.
Choice song: “Call It Off”

Sufjan Stevens – Carrie & Lowell

Brutal/beautiful. Sometimes music doesn’t need jagged edges and aggressive claws to slice at your heart. Measured, close-to-the-mic vocals with tightly whispered harmonies float on understated yet complex arrangements led by fingerpicked guitar (cue Elliott Smith echoes) and piano. It’s all as smooth and lovely as a glassy lake in the evening. Serene, even. Until you realize the intensely personal — yet chillingly inclusive — lyrics have left you in tears. Confession: I was scared to even listen to this album until three weeks ago. If I’d started back in March, it’d undoubtedly be #1.
Choice song: “Fourth of July”

Tame Impala – Currents

Rarely can a successful band transition its sound so thoroughly without backlash, but Tame Impala appears to have only increased its stock by making the jump from guitar-driven psychedelic rock to something synth-y, plush and… dance club-ready? Even the trippiest, most satisfyingly squishy tracks, though, can’t cushion the bitingly dark lyrics, which appear to center on the end of a relationship. Turns out that this popular №1 selection on many critics’ lists is actually a really good album and even more impressively when you remember that it was essentially created by one person.
Choice song: “Let It Happen”

Waxahatchee – Ivy Tripp

Call it the Alanis influence. Revisiting Jagged Little Pill this year courtesy of the 20th anniversary reissue sparked a need to listen to the next generation of skilled, fearless ladies with electric guitars, killer songwriting skills, and brutally honest voices. The full spectrum and complexity of universal human emotion, from vulnerability and nostalgia to defiant anger, plays out over the 13 songs. The metaphors and melodies are memorable and novel, yet the experiences feel alternately raw and comforting — and, most of all, familiar. Highlights include the slow, deliberate simmer of powerful closing track “Bonfire” and the bite of “Poison.”
Choice song: “Poison”

Companion piece: honorable mentions and some notable additional songs!

Not a Typo: My Favorite Albums of 2015 was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

30 Very Good Reasons to Not Update Your Music Blog for More Than a Year was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Early to mid-March in climates with cold winters and hot summers is a conspicuously transitional time. It’s hopeful and light, yet fragile and frustrating. Daylight stretches on noticeably longer than before, and on the first day that everyone can switch from a heavy winter coat to a merely medium-weight winter coat, there’s practically singing in the streets. Then you look at the ground and remember it’s still covered in snow.

You need some music that sheds a little winter cozy folksiness, but isn’t too hot or not too harsh or too fast — that’s for July. March is for music that literally has just a little spring in its step. Cautiously and gently ebullient. Old familiars and maybe something new(ish). And no, it’s not coincidental that it’s bookended by “bright” titles.

(Listen on Spotify)
Brighter! — Cass McCombs
Ventura Highway — America
Everday — Vetiver
#9 Dream — John Lennon
Windmill Wedding — Air France
House of Diamonds — Bowerbirds
Tout Doucement — Feist
Someone’s Singing — Donovan
Cherry Tulips — Headlights
Bright Whites — Kishi Bashi

Sprightly and Bright(ly), Yet Suitably Gentle: Songs for the Verge of Spring was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

1. [Even (especially?! — one can dream) your role description includes “Grammy voter.”]↩

Some Kind Of Awesome on Twitter

@beck hey we made you a Valentine. <3

So Here’s the Thing (re: Album of the Year Brouhaha) was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Turns out, though, concerts are deeply personal, nuanced experiences, and a knee-jerk ranking based on the artist’s stature the and venue’s fame is pretty simplistic.

Not to say that the show wasn’t excellent. What was most striking was how much it differed from my first Neil Young show, back in 2011. He (and my other “legend favorite,” Bob Dylan) are masters of reinvention. The chosen layer or version of themselves they present on stage any given time effortlessly creates a whole new artist, and almost any of the dozens of layers available is better than almost any other artist’s full self.

The 2011 concert in Boston was Le Noise era, with a crush of aggressive electric guitars selected from the full guitar workshop set up on stage. No time or space for casual banter between songs. A full-on rock show.

Perhaps fitting for the setting, the Carnegie Hall show was a quiet acoustic affair, with a guitar and a piano providing most of the accompaniment. So quiet, in fact, that at one point, security approached two gentlemen seated nearby and told them they were in danger of being ejected. Why? Their occasional setlist commentary had prompted complaints from neighbors, and the clinking of the ice in their drinks was deemed too loud.

Even from my distant balcony seat, the show felt intimate, a testament to his on-stage power. For 25 whole songs. No small feat in the attention-deficit era. (Though if you paid hundreds of dollars, you’re probably a pretty big fan and are likely to pay sustained attention.) Between the long, rich setlist, which blended classic favorites and some less frequently heard songs, we were treated to running commentary and stories on everything from friends who had been lost to selfies. (I’ve felt very conflicted about hearing Neil Young talk about selfies. All year, in fact. Still don’t think I like it.) Lots of gentle, Carnegie Hall-appropriate laughter.

It would sound silly for a blog to offer up comments like, “hey, did you know that this guy plays guitar pretty well?” or “he sure can sing!” at this point in a legend’s career. It goes without saying that the musical experience was outstanding, as expected. I kept marveling at how different even the songs I’d heard at the first show seemed to have a completely different mood at this one.

I still have yet to hear him perform any songs from my favorite album, On the Beach. Someday? There would probably be tears. The more music history I learn, the more I mourn having missed so much and so many incredible people simply by being born too late. But certain shows — and especially Neil Young show — present a thousand moments of gratitude.

Setlist (seriously, just look at all these treasures):
From Hank to Hendrix
Helpless
On the Way Home
Only Love Can Break Your Heart
Love in Mind
Birds
Mellow My Mind
Are You Ready for the Country
Someday
Changes
Harvest
Old Man
Goin’ Back
A Man Needs A Maid
Ohio
Southern Man
Needle of Death
The Needle And The Damage Done
Harvest Moon
Flying On The Ground Is Wrong
After The Gold Rush
Journey Through The Past
Heart Of Gold
Comes A Time
Long May You Run

2014 Concert Highlights: Neil Young At Carnegie Hall was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

There’s been a lot of talk about music and feminism this year. Taylor Swift! Beyonce! Going so historically male-heavy on concerts was never intentional: my top five artists are all solo dudes or bands made up of dudes. Note: After these three shows, that’s now a top six. 100 percent men no more.

The truly outstanding, soul-shaking, life-changing music, to some degree, is universal. Brilliant lyrical metaphors and sweet pedal steel transcend gender. Sounds are sounds; words are words. But during this three-concert run, a warm sense of belonging, connection, identification and admiration unexpectedly began swirling each night. It’s a a unique feeling that can’t be duplicated at dudeshows.

At some moments, it’s the lyrical perspective of the songs, and at some moments, it’s simply being able to look up and think “I want to be more like you in my everyday life.” The crowd also contributes. Unlike at, say, a Neil Young show, where I’m surrounded by a lot of people who look like my dad, the magical rainbow pastel world of Voyager-era Jenny Lewis has a lot of inhabitants who look like me.

It’s a Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper folder come to life — a dream come true for 90s girls. Maybe, like me, they came of age during the Rilo Kiley college radio heyday and now get to see their idol in her prime, performing her best-yet solo songs with a top-notch band, wielding effortless power over a spellbound crowd — even a packed house at the notoriously oddly structured, cavernous Terminal 5 on the first night.

The tri-level space was filled to the rafters. And from the barricades to the upper-upper-level seated stations, everyone was captivated. Terminal 5 has historically been plagued with attendees who don’t pay attention. This time, though, even a group of drunk girls nearby proved to be full participants in the lovefest. The second the first song began, they began loudly singing along off-key to every single word, arms wrapped around each other and swaying. It was actually really sweet.

Night 1, Terminal 5 — NY, NY. 11/5/14

“Silver Lining”– Ah. Yes. Starting off with something from the Rilo Kiley vault. From the first notes, the surround-sound cheers and screams started. This wasn’t just the standard stage-welcome screaming. It was an indicator of the entire night. This level of enthusiasm would be sustained.

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security guard lookin’ good and security guard-y[/caption]

“Just One of the Guys” — Is this is a feminist anthem? Is it all a joke? Is it serious? The song has been deconstructed to pieces, so let’s just enjoy its Beck production and catchy chorus. By the way, every single time, she delivered the infamous “just another lady without a baby” line with a giggle, if you want to read into that. Related: I considered sending that line to my college alumnae magazine as my “life update.”
“Head Underwater” — Seemed a bit faster than on the album — very suited for the live setting. Such a strong singalong song. It’s like “A Better Son/Daughter” (which we heard later!) revisited, but for a more mature era. And performed from behind a rainbow-draped piano.
“Slippery Slopes” — I think we totally made eye contact during the “sleeping with bros” line. Terrifying. I really hope that is, in fact, the line. Singing along accurately to these songs is quite hard. Girl is the queen of the variable, progressive chorus.
“The Moneymaker” — In its full strutting glory. Men and women alike swooning. Every smile, every half-sneer, every hip-shake, every hand-raise elicited more screams.
“The Next Messiah” — Songs within a song — the country hoe-down moments, the rock moments, and through all of it, those drums! The lyric change on father not beating cancer reappeared. A little sad, but delivered so matter-of-factly and followed up so swiftly with “but I am a survivor” that she’s convinced you it’s okay — we don’t need to dwell on the sadness.
“Pretty Bird” — This is such a beautiful song, and perhaps underrated. Enhanced with arm motions (corresponding to west, south, east, north) that I now try to duplicate when listening in the car.
“The New You”– “About the loneliest Metallica fan,” per the on-stage intro.

“Late Bloomer” — Heard this one live for the first time. This is certainly one of the most Fleetwood Mac-sounding songs off The Voyager, and that element came across even more live, especially in the low-pitch chorus.
“You Are What You Love” — What a glorious surprise. This has been a mainstay on my “top five at the moment” playlist for… seven years or so? Adore its economy — it’s like a written poem. Every word and every note is important. Even more distilled live. Also never really noticed until this live version the somewhat Bob Dylan-esque biting delivery of each line that remains still remains balanced with vulnerability. “Tim” was replaced by “Jim” tonight. (And the next two nights, it turned out.)
“Melt Your Heart” — One of the quietest moments of the set, and it was astounding how everyone piped down. Even the drunk girls faded out. High-five, drunk girls.
“Rise Up With Fists!!” — Everyone rose up with fists. Nice transition away from the quiet of “Melt your Heart.”
“Aloha & The Three Johns” — Could I have done without the really disturbing/hilarious story about the inspiration for the song? Yeah, perhaps. But finally started to “get” this song (expectations vs. reality, maybe?), and really enjoyed the wave effects. And how certain lines were delivered with wide-eyed mock horror.
“Love U Forever” — Enormous spherical balloons — maybe three feet in diameter — in every color of the rainbow dropped from the ceiling at the bounciest, most 80s-esque moment during the instrumental break at the end. They bopped around in the crowd for the next few songs. At one point, Jenny tapped one with the heel of her pastel boot and it instantly, silently, neatly collapsed on itself, reduced to a little rubber puddle. Even the giant rainbow bubble balloons are powerless. (#symbolism) Also, at the end of the night, I spotted some people trying to lug them out on their shoulders like a rainbow-y Atlas statue. Further enhancing the perhaps dangerously non-expeditious group egress. Thanks, guys.
“A Better Son/Daughter” — This one. As soon as the opening guitar chords began shaping themselves into that familiar sound, the crowd — which had already maintained a decent consistent roar for more than an hour — lost it. We sang quietly during the quiet moments, then shouted along as the big crescendos kicked in. This was the song we all sang to ourselves to get through the days/weeks/months/years. I held it together this first night and the second night.

Encore:
“With Arms Outstretched” — Performed just as a trio. Didn’t even recognize at first, but once again, pandemonium as everyone realized what it was. Everyone clapping along.
“Acid Tongue” — With the usual “choir” with harmonies and just acoustic guitar. Everyone quiet again — well done.

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balloons ‘n lens flare[/caption]

“She’s Not Me” — “For all my ladies.” My favorite song on The Voyager. Like during the Newport performance, it was an early departure as the vocals finished, disappearing into the rainbows with a raised hand-lettered paper cup and leaving the band to finish out. Never seen anyone else do that in concert, but it works. Totally works.

Random 1: She tried to come down between stage and barrier to sing, but screeching feedback immediately ensued. Still ran along front row (greeted with universal shrieks of course), touching everyone’s hands. Side note: Never washing right hand again. Side note 2: That’s a joke, don’t worry.
Random 2: Capturing what was on everyone’s mind, a dude shouted “Why are you so awesome?” Answer: “It’s the rainbows, man.”
Random 3: My iPhone “review notes” to myself written that night just read “magical show.” Not useful, but true. So true.

Show-specific lyric changes:
Acid-dropping location, “Acid Tongue”: “been down to Brooklyn”
Mode of communication, “You Are What You Love”: “that’s why you keep texting me back”

Night 2, Space at Westbury — Westbury, N.Y. 11/6/14

The setlist was similar to the previous night’s, except with “Pretty Bird” deleted and, most unexpectedly, “The Voyager” added. Only the first or second time it had been performed live. The sound folks produced a very cool spacey effect with the microphones and mixes. It was almost like a floating three-dimensional choral feeling, but distant. Whatever it is officially called, it was perfect for the themes of the song, and quite haunting.

The only downside was that the sound never fully returned to normal after that. Even to my just-a-girl-who-goes-to-shows ears, sometimes it sounded a little muddy sometimes, between-song banter became tough to decipher, and sometimes certain elements kept jumping too loud in the mix. Still absolutely worth it to hear that song: For a moment, we saw a a different kind of vulnerability and emotion, from someone whose on-stage persona is always so effortless. Or, if the maybe-even-a-bit-of-nervousness was just another element of the stage act, it was certainly believable.

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the neck-craning view[/caption]

During “With Arms Outstretched,” someone in the crowd who decided to take the lyrics even more literally than everyone else very nearly toppled over headfirst over the barricade trying to touch her hand. Center of gravity, dude. At another moment, someone else in the front row almost succeeded in making the elusive hand-to-hand contact, but she suddenly drew back, theatrically and maybe almost admonishingly, and glided to the other side of the stage without missing a beat.

Afterward, I started thinking those moments — about feminism and objectification and stage presence. And “I’m not yours for the taking.” Maybe because I very rarely see women perform. Maybe because all of those articles about female artists started popping up around this time. At these shows, I overheard a ton of “so hot” comments, but really, it’s a playful, deliberate “hotness.” She is totally in control of it and is going to give you just enough so that you’re under the spell. And “you” means men and women alike — this is universal. It’s always very clear who has ownership of the room and, by extension, of everyone. And you know, that’s exactly the kind of power that a girl might dream of having in her own, off-stage setting.

Speaking of objectification, guys… no iconic rainbow suit during this show. (My mom, who’d expressed mom-like concern about its laundering frequency, was relieved when I informed her afterward that a shiny black ensemble had been rotated in.)

The biggest difference from the previous night was the crowd. The smaller room was more loosely packed. Although the front row had some diehards, the enthusiasm and attention levels couldn’t match the stratospheric highs at Terminal 5. No matter the performer, the crowd always makes the show.

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“Acid Tongue” choir[/caption]

Random 1: No balloons during “Love U Forever” (come on, that can’t happen every night), and no story about the real-life origins of “Aloha & the Three Johns (yay?).
Random 2: By the second night, opening band Girlpool was starting to grow on me. (Night one impression: Wait, why are they scrunching their faces and intentionally shouting-singing like that? I don’t get this. I’m old.) They are sort of baby hipsters, but in a sweet, sincere, artsy, Rookie magazine sort of way? Plus, they’re young! So, impressive no matter what. By the third night, I loved the fearlessness of their deceptively simple lyrics and genuinely liked their music (except for the screaming bits in “Jane,” but at least I knew when they were coming).

Show-specific lyric changes:
Acid-dropping location, “Acid Tongue”: Montauk
Mode of communication, “You Are What You Love: Skyping

Night 3 — Calvin Theatre, Northampton, Mass. 11/7/14

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(joking) tweet from that night[/caption]

First things first.

But let’s back up. I’d originally bought a seated ticket to this show. By night three, I’d be tired of standing, right? I also wasn’t sure if standing there at three consecutive shows would be considered creepy. After two nights in the front row, though, I realized there’s no other way to go. One last chance for that immersive experience. Unfortunately, the general admission tickets were sold out. I wandered into the box office in Northampton to make sure, and just when I was about to leave, the attendent told me that I could actually stand in the GA section with my seated ticket. Totally legal.

So tired legs or not, potential creeper or not, there I was again in the front row. And that’s how I received my flowers, which I’ll take as a sign that my presence was okay. And as a sign of marriage. I mean, it was during “Love U Forever,” so duh. (Let’s throw in another “kidding” side note just to be safe.)

At this show, the crowd enthusiasm returned, rivaling the levels seen two nights ago and giving the entire performance wonderful energy. Really, many of the comments from Night 1 apply here. Some other song-specific highlights:

“Shakedown Street” — Grateful Dead cover! (“Do you guys like the Dead? Of course, it’s Northampton — I don’t even have to ask.” Fair enough.) So much fun.
“The Voyager” — It’s back. And as the opening song. The girl next to me nearly had a heart attack. Leading off with a quiet song always strikes me as a risky move (will the crowd settle down in time?), but when it’s executed well and the audience behaves, it’s instantly powerful. Reminded me of the times Josh Ritter has started his shows with “Idaho,” sometimes solo and sometimes on his knees.
“With Arms Outstretched” and “Rise Up With Fists!!” — Timing of the crowd’s lyric-appropriate arm motions was flawless. Arms were outstreched and fists rose up in unison. Nice visual representation of how into it everyone was. Pretty sure I saw some literal bowing down happening during several songs, too.
“Pretty Bird” — It returned! So, with this and “The Voyager,” this was definitely the best setlist of the three shows.

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Candyland[/caption]

“A Better Son/Daughter” — If you ever need to teach dynamics to kids, this might be the song to use. They’ll be okay with the lyrics. Quiet moment. Loud moment. The full-force, multi-guitar sound unleashed near the end carries so much raw power — considerably expanded from the album version. Even got a little emotional. Only the fourth teary-eyed incident ever at a concert. Also, this is as close as I’ll ever get to seeing a Rilo Kiley show. Sigh.

Show-specific lyric changes:
Acid-dropping location, “Acid Tongue”: Dixie (the original lyric… I was pulling for “Springfield” for some reason)
Mode of communication, “You Are What You Love”: texting

p.s. Random of Randoms:
For posterity, this happened on Halloween, less than a week before the shows. I mentioned it was The Year of Jenny Lewis, so I’d be remiss not to include it.

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art project[/caption]

Best social media moment(s) of 2014 as a music fan, or best social media moment(s) of 2014 as a music fan? Technology is terrifying and yet wonderful.

2015: See more shows performed by women!

2014 Concert Highlights: Three Nights And Three Jenny Lewis Shows was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I’m duty-bound to report back on all concerts, even ones that take place in the most unexpected settings. At the awards gala during my own company’s big annual event, as we progressed through a sit-down dinner, the standard house band suddenly was suddenly supplanted by some big names.

First up was Eddie Money. (“Do I even know any Eddie Money songs?”… “Ah! Yes!”) He performed “Two Tickets to Paradise,” “Take Me Home Tonight,” and a few of the other most popular hits. Time and addiction have not been kind to his body, but his appearance alone would have been enough a nifty little music surprise.

Then a parade of others from a similar era began taking the stage, sometimes one by one, and sometimes in combination. Squeals escaped from previously serious businesspeople in town for a serous businesspeople conference as they recognized the names and faces: .38 Special. Chicago. (Technically, I don’t think this was the actual, full band, but I was far back and didn’t have a great view.)

A highlight was Gary Wright. I was introduced to his music back in 2006 and actually own a couple of albums. Naturally, he performed “Our Love is Alive” and “Dream Weaver.” Guys, The Dream Weaver himself was standing there in front of us! I might have spent half the song frantically messaging a friend who would understand the significance of this. By the way, he still sounded very good.

The biggest surprise came at the end of the night: Journey. There was some confusion over whether this was “real Journey” (i.e. with Steve Perry), but I’m pretty sure that it was not. Still. I was finally able to let go of the odd, conflicting feelings of “I am at a concert but this is a work event so I have to be uptight?” when they launched into “Don’t Stop Believin’” near the end of the night. Kicked off my painful stiletto sandals, climbed on a chair next to my coworkers, and we all raised our arms and shouted along. Completely cliched, but what fun.

2014 Concert Highlights: Back to the 1970s and 80s… at a Work Gala was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Sidebar One: Yay!
Four other albums I liked (alphabetically)

Lake Street Dive — Bad Self-Portraits
A new discovery in 2014, thanks to a performance at Newport Folk Festival that I casually wandered by, then stuck around for, thoroughly impressed. (Mavis Staples’ surprise participation might have helped.) Is it rock? Is it blues? Is it jazz? Is it pop? Haven’t quite figured it out, but I keep listening to the album.

Spoon — They Want My Soul
This is the album that’s been praised as demonstrating Spoon’s return to top, tight form. I’ve always liked — but never been able to love — the band, though. I know, a bannable offense in indie rock listener circles. “Do Ya” will nevertheless be stuck in my head for the next several months. Or forever, maybe.

Sun Kil Moon — Benji
Another artist I saw at Newport this year (after being vaguely familiar with him since the college radio DJ days). This album is so ruthlessly morbid that he almost seems to take a weird delight in just how sad it is. Raw, plain-spoken lyrics, delivered calmly over sparse acoustic instruments. It’s hard to listen to but really compelling.

Tweedy — Sukierae
This placement is, perhaps, unfair. A complex, 20-song, somewhat quiet album deserved a lot more attentive listening. Not at work and not driving, when the vast majority of music-listening took place this year. So far, so good with these songs. I just ran out of time to get to know them this year.

Sidebar Two: Confusion
Four critically acclaimed albums that I don’t quite get (yet?). Check back in a year?

FKA twigs — LP1
Everyone’s top pick this year, basically. Intriguing, but all the repetition and tiny voice feel grating for now. This has been described as a challenging. I’m still challenged, I guess.

Future Islands — Singles
An artist description somewhere said that their performance of “Seasons (Waiting on You)” left David Letterman “dazzled and speechless.” Really? It’s fun and dance-y — and not bad — but as the albums go on, all the songs sound pretty similar.

St. Vincent — St. Vincent
Artists I am perpetually trying to love and be amazed by, because I feel like I should be and it’s shameful that I’m… just not: #1: Radiohead. #2: (Probably) St. Vincent. (Seriously, what am I missing?) Maybe the trick is to see a live show sometime.

Taylor Swift — 1989. This is the year she went from “mainstream favorite” to also appearing on the most hipster-y hipster lists that ever hipstered, because is just that universal. Still feel neutral at best. I do like the satire of “Blank Space.” And her clothes.

Sidebar Three: ??
Four albums I felt compelled to like based on previous artist enjoyment history but couldn’t love yet. Check back in a year?

Delta Spirit — Into the Wide
Change is hard. Delta Spirit’s shift from a rootsy classic rock sound to something heavier and slicker wasn’t sudden (elements were already creeping in on previous albums, including the 2012 song “Tear It Up,” one of my favorites). But on Into the Wide, the transition moves forward even more boldly, and it certainly requires some adjustment. The songs seem busy and crowded, with no space between the notes or the layers. It’s a very New York sound that almost reminds me a bit of those 2004-ish slightly-dancey-but-dark-indie-rock (technical term) college radio bands (ya know, like Interpol, Antics-era), with more urgency and even less dancing. The overall effect is stressful and muddy, but might come around to this one.

The New Basement Tapes — Lost on the River
This should have been such an exciting album for a Bob Dylan fan to devour. An all-star group of musicians, under the direction of T-Bone Burnett, creates music based on recently unearthed Dylan lyrics and records an album. Cool, right? But something still doesn’t feel quite right about this album. It’s Bob Dylan songs… but it’s not? Maybe I just like his songs when they’re 100% his. Even covers (with the exception of The Byrds Play Dylan, and when performed by The Band, for obvious reasons) sometimes seem wrong, so this is even more of a stretch. The songs sound perfectly fine, but fail to feel special. Even lag a little at times.

Old 97’s — Most Messed Up
I really dig this band. The recipe of twisted, sad lyrics over dance-worthy punk-country music is a winner. I’ve seen Rhett Miller perform at City Winery like 80,000 times. And even in a dude’s garage in the Hudson Valley this year. More on that later. But this album somehow feels too loose and too forced at the same time. (“We can still be wild! Wild! Wild!”) The same thought sequence happened during every listen. First few songs: This is fantastic. So much energy. Why have I not been enthusiastic? Middle section: Oh. Hmm. The songs are all sounding a little similar. End: It’s not bad music. It’s probably great fun live. Just somehow not grabbing me as much as some of their other albums. It received nearly universally positive acclaim, but I was relieved to find that there is, at least, an Amazon commenter who feels almost exactly the same as I do.

Neil Young — Storytone
Poor Neil Young. I love him (spoiler alert: he performed one of the best shows I saw this year) and actually kinda like several songs on the album in their solo versions. But even as a fan of big, silly orchestral arrangements, I have to admit that the full-band versions on Storytone are more than a little too much. Full-on Disney-fication. “Who’s Gonna Stand Up?” is very… curious. Despite wholeheartedly agreeing with his anti-fracking, pro-environment stance and loving that a high-profile artist is using his music to speak out about it, I cringed at the literal, predictable, oddly contrived-sounding lyrics. This is a terrible thing to say about an artist who’s in your top five artists of all time (and, you know, generally accepted as a legend), but the song sounds like a Sesame Street segment.

Next up: Concert Highlights 2014: Everyone’s a Winner!

2014 Sidebars: The Best of the Rest and Others That Should Be Mentioned was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Perhaps the most pure rock album on this list, Lost in the Dream has a readily apparent, oft-cited Springsteen influence. It’s also another of those “more Tom Petty than Tom Petty [this year]” albums. The organ swirls and vocal echoes provide a lot of atmosphere, but the overall structures are pulled taut.

Wandering psychedelia this ain’t. The songs firmly, steadily build the tension — musically and lyrically — for the couple minutes, then satisfyingly let loose with either a shout and slam of sound (like the “whooo!” and pounding drums in Red Eyes), or a drawn-out instrumental resolution (like the “and I’m alone here, living in darkness… all right” at 3:34 in Eyes to the Wind).

But it’s not just a nonstop wall of electric guitars, drums, and keys. The comparatively sparse songs, like the title track, also really highlight some nasally, stacatto Bob Dylan-esque vocal delivery. That’s a lot of heavyweight comparisons crammed into a short review, but given the band’s rise this year, it all seems deserved. This album also gets better and better with every listen.

Note 1: This Top 12 list is not ranked. It’s generally a good idea to have 2014 coverage be published in 2014. Before Christmas, even. If I had to rank these, we wouldn’t be done until next August.

Note 2: More on the “Put Your Money Where Your Typing Is” selection methodology here. Short version: These are the 12 albums I bought on CD/vinyl/both this year.

Top 12 Albums of 2014: The War on Drugs — Lost in the Dream was originally published in stereosunset on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.