Attack & Release -- The Best of Music in 2008

Well, it's that time of year again -- time to recap the year that was and celebrate (however modestly, with our five loyal readers) our official one-year anniversary. That said, here are my picks for the best music released in 2008 -- argue and enjoy them at will... -- Roberto del Sol

The Best of 2008:

1. The Black Keys – Attack and Release -- The boys from Akron, Ohio come back on their fifth LP and deliver a hammer-headed gem, a more polished, potent blend of their standard gritty blues that soars like gospel and smashes like a sledge. By now you probably know the story -- they wrote these songs for Ike Turner, whose album they were producing for his comeback, and were about to begin recording them in the studio. Then Turner died suddenly and the boys decided the songs were too good to cast aside, so kept them for their own and delivered the year's best album.

They ease into it, welcoming you in with the folksy sway of "All You Ever Wanted" before unleashing the onslaught, dropping a four-song run of sheer and utter perfection -- the incendiary guitar licks on "I Got Mine;" the concussive stomp of "Strange Times;" the sexy smolder of "Psychotic Girl;" and "Lies," which reproduces Led Zeppelin's power and prowess with half the participants. (Honestly, the entire album sounds like drummer Patrick Carney stole John Bonham's kit, with each thud of the bass drum threatening to eradicate your speaker; it's Levee-type loud and just as great.) This is Sherman's march in song, leaving only ashes and embers in its wake.

Things slow down momentarily with the album's sole misstep (and even that's a marginal call), "Remember When (Side A)," before exploding out again and continuing through another run of classics -- that song's B-side, "Same Old Thing," "So He Won't Break," and "Oceans and Streams," which nearly match the brilliance of the first half's quartet. The massacre doesn't stop until the final track, which lets us exit the album the same way we entered, with the warm embrace of "Things Ain't Like They Used to Be." (Which features lead man Dan Auerbach harmonizing with his protégé, 19-year old songstress Jessica Lea Mayfield, a nice change from all the testosterone flying around the previous hour.)

This is simply a monster rock album and everything I wanted the new Kings of Leon disc to be -- loud, muscular, and oh-so undeniable. It cements the Keys as one of the nation's top rock outfits (and best kept secrets) and captures them at their strongest. Absolute required listening...

2. The Kills – Midnight Boom -- A very close second, as I don’t think I listened to any other album on the list as much as I did this one this year, commandeering the ‘Pod for months upon its release. (Which may explain its getting edged out by the Keys – I still have OD symptoms for some of the songs, despite their brilliance, having listened to them so much.) If the Keys represent rock’s powerful, thunderous capacity, the Kills represent its sexy, gritty other half, the no-frills, fuck-me-in-the-bar-bathroom-type that will consume you and discard you for dead when they’re done without batting an eye.

This is the third full-length from these guys and it proves to be the charm, showcasing the duo's twerpy electronic percussion, sexy vocals, and thunderbolt guitars on an album that is a blitzkrieg run to the Keys’ carpet bombing campaign. Of the 13 tracks here only a handful last longer than 3 minutes, including the sultry “Black Balloon” and “Goodnight Bad Morning,” two high points on the album and its sole slow songs. The rest are laser beams through the fog, short blasts that leave nothing in their wake but the heat of their passing. Jamie Hince's guitar licks, which growl and churn like firewater in an empty stomach, are the reason you start playing guitar -- not Page-styles solos or Hendrix-esque virtuosity, but the ability to make noise like this; pure, raw power with the ability to anger the neighbors and waken the dead.

"Sour Cherry" shows them at their best -- irresistible beat, punk rock attitude, stutter lyrics, and droning guitars. It's badass, do-it-yourself stuff from the depths of the garage that was made to be listened to at high volume. (Just as the band is made to be seen live, at the shittiest dive bar you can find. I had the pleasure of doing so twice this year and it was instantly the best 15 bucks I’ve spent.) This is rock at its rawest and most irresistible – crank it up and start strutting.

3. Portishead – Third -- Hands down the best comeback this year, this one's another masterpiece of creepy, dread-ful (though in no way dreadful) music from a band long since thought dead. After 11 years in hiding, the trio of beloved Britons return with a dense, unsettling gem along the lines of their first two, full of moodiness, lush melody, and dark foreboding that earns it a place on the list in line with its title.

From the moment the crackly Portuguese voice comes in at the beginning of the album opener "Silence," you know you're in for something unique. Love them or hate them, you cannot argue that Portishead sounds like anyone else in the marketplece, and in a year of almost uniformly disconcerting news their music provides an appropriate accompaniment to the decline. Beth Gibbon's eggshell-delicate voice, Geoff Barrow's doom in outer space beats, and Adrian Utley's eerie layered guitar build until combustion time and again and leave us with an album that rewards listening to it as a whole, rather than sampling it in pieces on the 'Pod.

4. The Walkmen – You & Me -- Another pitch-perfect offering from the band of DC-cum-NY lads, these guys still do shambling hangover shanties better than anyone in the business. This one marries that day-after weariness with a sort of 1940s nostalgia (who else sings songs to men named Eugene?) that never misses, each song shining like glass in the magisterial sand dune that is the album -- impressive and solid when viewed from afar, slowly shifting waves of a million brilliant pieces when held up close.

As I said when it came out earlier this year, there's really not much to quibble with here. It's chock full of everything you expect from the band -- murky, middle of the ocean organs and shiny, echoing guitars; dreary, despondent lyrics and Hamilton Leithauser's saintly, ethereal voice splitting the exhaustion. The only time this band has misstepped in its six-year career is when it isn't their material (the Harry Nilsson cover album Pussy Cats, which was a song-for-song recreation of an album that had been forgotten for a reason) -- when they release a disc of originals under the Walkmen banner, you can expect confident, pristine execution from beginning to end. This one is pure smoldering brilliance.

5. Cold War Kids – Loyalty to Loyalty -- The shock of their debut and its uncanny polish and power may have worn off, but these boys from Cali are no worse for the wear, coming back a year later with an album that balances slow-burning blues gems with shambling guitar rockers and results in one of the year's best. Still here are the signature storytelling of the band's debut and lead singer Nathan Willett's soaring vocals -- as strong and happy a marriage as your grandparents' seventy-five years in -- and the pair have aged just as nicely.

The album draws you in with the cool opener "Against Privacy" before clobbering doubters with the emphatic one-two-three punch of "Mexican Dogs," "Every Valley is Not a Lake," and "Something is Not Right with Me." The trio marries the band's swirling guitars with dirty bar piano -- another of their trademarks -- and carries the album along until the stellar "I've Seen Enough," which has everything you want from the band -- foreboding piano, killer guitar lines, and middle finger in the sky lyrics. A great second effort from the band, solidifying their status as one to watch going forward.

6. Mates of State – Re-Arrange Us -- The beloved husband and wife duo from Lawrence, Kansas, return with their fifth full-length and an album that matches the excellence of their previous offerings (which is substantial), maybe even exceeds it. What is here, as ever, is the heartbreaking harmonization between the two – a pairing so perfect and pretty it can draw tears to the eyes (as in the stellar opener “Get Better,” which is instantly among their best songs), a fact magnified by their matrimonial status. Most couples today are lucky to even communicate effectively, let alone create something of such beauty so regularly.

What’s new, however, are the notes of discord lying beneath the shiny pop veneer. Not dire, we’re-not-gonna-make-it-type stuff, just the regular trials and tribulations that go into every relationship, let alone a marriage with children. And what results is incredibly refreshing -- a song arc of honest, adult sentiments wrapped in the bubble gum pop of our youth; cold truths in a warm, sunny embrace. Most groups would consider themselves successful to have one, maybe two songs of such unbridled beauty, pep, and honesty on an album. These guys cram them in by the fistful. Another gem from the band you can’t help love.

7. Kanye West – 808s and Heartbreak -- I know, I'm crazy, right? This was a steaming pile of Auto-Tuned "music," not worth the drivespace it consumed or the material it was printed on. (If you actually still buy CDs instead of downloading, that is.) Everybody said so. The major papers and review sites panned it, talking about the possible demise of Kanye, while the blogosphere was far more unkind.

And it is a mess. There is no monster single like "Jesus Walks" or "Gold Digger" to latch onto and get the masses dancing. (Though "Love Lockdown" comes close after it works its way into your brain.) But in a year that saw the death of his mother and the destruction of his relationship with his fiancee, his life was a mess, so any music made during that time is going to bear the marks of those wounds.

I understand the resistance. Kanye's as easy to hate as Coldplay, if not moreso. He's cocky, pompous, and brags likes it's as integral to his survival as breathing. But as any creatively minded person can tell you, misery makes the best art, and Kanye is no different. For all the past braggodocio about the material possessions -- his Louis Vuitton fetish, his cars, his houses and infinite travel itineraries -- and the resulting vapidity that was so off-putting to many critics, this one is all emotion. It cuts through all the superficiality and is Kanye at his most honest and open, his most flawed and vulnerable. And it makes for a great listen.

The panners all latched onto the immediate dreariness of the album's tone, and it is there. That's partly the Auto-tune and partly the subject matter's fault. But what lies underneath is what makes the CD brilliant and what makes Kanye so special -- what in another person's hands could come off as trite, whiny, and/or uninteresting glows in his hands. There's the irresistible tribal beats from the titular 808 drum machines; there's the slyly funny line snuck into the woe-as-me tales of heartbreak; there's the quiet "FU" attitude that's still there, albeit muted in the depression. It's the irrepressible parts of his character (some would argue persona) shining through, just as they do in each of us when in similar straits. They're just more subdued than their normal setting of 11, if you're Kanye.

What's left is an album full of songs from a guy who admittedly can't sing, unashamedly pouring his heart out like a teen taping his teary-eyed lamentations in high school; it's the battered and bruised ego maniac -- the enormous intergalactic superstar and narcissist -- taking the dents in his armor and making them shine. If you were ever curious about Kanye, but couldn't get past the materialistic arrogance and superficiality, this is your opportunity to see him at his rawest and most true.

8. Ray LaMontagne – Gossip in the Grain -- The third offering from the man from Maine (as always, a little bit Van Morrison, a little bit Iron & Wine) finds a man reinvented – and happier! – in songs that are no less beautiful than their predecessors, just a little less black than before. The tales of heartbreak and pain sung in a hushed whisper are by and large gone, but what remains are just as heartfelt and sincere. It's just that this time they're framed by a vocal power (and occasionally horns) that we haven’t heard from LaMontagne before. From the triumphant opener “You Are the Best Thing” (a perfect example of both) to the beautiful “I Still Care For You” and the playful ode to the White Stripes drummer “Meg White,” this is a great one for a relaxing Sunday morning drive.

9. Death Cab for Cutie -- Narrow Stairs -- To be honest, I initially forgot to include this one when I was going back over the year's releases for my list, and that's somewhat appropriate for how this album unfurls. It's not as immediately accessible as previous offerings like Plans, for example, and the songs don't latch onto your heart (or eviscerate it) quite as quickly. There are songs that are brilliant out of the gate, like "Twin Sized Bed," "Cath...," and the pristine opener "Bixby Canyon Bridge," but the bulk of the album takes time to reveal true nature to you.

It's like that person who you see daily for months and never think much of -- there's nothing wrong with them, per se, and you like what you've seen, but nothing captivates you or drives you to change your opinion of them as merely passable. Over time though you'll find yourself thinking about something they said or going back to them with growing frequency before you finally realize that what's in front of you is far better than you initially perceived. It was the same way with this album -- I'd catch myself thinking about a lyric or humming a melody before realizing it came from here -- and now, months later, I know this is a far better album than I'd initially believed, one that stands among their best. Songs like "You Can Do Better Than Me," "No Sunlight," and "Long Division" all have the capacity to flay once you dive under the sunny veneer and ponder the lyrics in the shadows, as does the lead single "I Will Possess Your Heart." It's another album of rich, rewarding stuff from the boys from Washington, if you give it half a chance.

And two that technically don’t count (but still ruled the ‘Pod this year):

10. Jose Gonzalez – In Our Nature -- The follow-up to his 2005 US debut, the Spanish-speaking Swede returned late last year (too late to make the 2007 list) with another album full of beautiful classically-plucked guitar and hushed vocals in songs that call to mind shades of acoustic troubadours like Elliott Smith, without the heartbreak and sadness. Gonzalez’s songs are more straightforward and uniformly resilient than someone like Smith’s, but no less beautiful when taken on their own terms. Check out gems like the driving “Down the Line” or the remake of Massive Attack’s “Teardrop” for a taste.


11. Justice – Cross -- The opening strains of “Genesis,” when the fuzzed up, ominous horns are gliding you inexorably towards the cliff of the beat’s arrival, are your only moments of doubt for what lies in store. Is this some arch movie soundtrack? A lousy Christian metal album (from the giant cross gracing its cover) or some shitty French dance album? The answer, naturally, is none of the above, but instead an undeniable debut from the protégés of Daft Punk – a danceable, infectious gem that draws more on rock’s oeuvre than their mentors, but assaults your brain just as hard. Released late last year, this one didn’t sink its claws in soon enough to make the 2007 list, but is worth knowing about nonetheless. It's place on the list is an appropriate one for an album that will obliterate your inhibitions and have you dancing around with your fist in the air and your speakers set to 11. Check out “Waters of Nazareth” for signs of the second coming and get ready to move.

A Few More Before Leaving:

One they got right:

Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago -- A beautiful, beautiful album, this one shows up on lots of the year-end lists and does so for a reason; I haven’t stopped listening to it for weeks. The album was recorded by newcomer Justin Vernon, who retreated to a cabin in the Wisconsin hinterlands (is there any other type of land up there?) for three months to mend a broken heart. What results is a hushed, lush treat and a song cycle of folk-style acoustic that will warm you over the cold winter. Check out the album’s opener “Flume” for a taste – a pitch-perfect mix of melancholy and magic that you’ll find yourself singing long after.

One they got wrong:

TV on the Radio – Dear Science -- This topped loads of the major “Best of 2008” lists and is off the mark on every one. TV have been critical darlings since their 2004 debut, with steadily diminishing returns. Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes was an indie classic, a brilliant mix of layered harmonies, electronic quirkiness, and stacked, dissonant beats, but its follow-up, Return to Cookie Mountain, was a more uneven affair. It found the band expanding its sound and ambition, striving for big name numbers and recognition, but missing the more they stretched.

Dear Science completes their reach for grandeur – the album is almost universally described as “arena-ready” in size and scope in those write-ups – but what’s left is music devoid of substance; of heart, soul, or anything that resonates on more than the basest cerebral level. This is music you know you’re supposed to like – the guys look the definition of New York cool and used to sound that way -- but it all comes across as forced. It’s manufactured hipness and feels that way, and as a result just leaves you feeling empty.


And one for the Latins:

Los Bunkers – Barrio Estacion -- The third album from the deities of Chilean pop rock, this one is another mix of irresistible surf-style rock and big pop anthems from my favorite gang of chilenos. Still not largely known outside Latin America, these guys continue to make virtually flawless pop songs that will have you singing along – or trying to -- regardless of whether you understand what they’re saying. (It's all sunbeams and unicorns, if you must know.) Check out “Nada Nuevo Bajo el Sol” for a taste of their pop prowess.