At Least It's Friday: The Best of 2015

Well, it's been a heck of a year.  Easily the most consistently frustrating and infuriating year of my professional (and at times personal) life, this has been a year about testing resolve and one's belief in the bigger picture.  That for every battle lost on a day to day basis -- which at times seemed to number in the dozens -- the broader expenditure of energy and investment (and pain suffered as a result) would not only pay off, but was worth it. For everything from how to stand up (and then run) an enormous new venture to far more simple things like basic communication and requests, this was a war with a thousand fronts and no seeming end to the hostilities.

It was the year of the dick punching machine -- a fabled contraption that came to be emblematic of the struggle -- and standing in front of its fury for 12-15 hrs a day, sometimes longer, to get the ever-loving piss knocked out of you. You did it because you had to, you did it because it was unavoidable, you did it because you were too stupid (or tired) to find any acceptable escapes.  The phrase referenced in the post's title was a tragicomic refrain initially uttered at the end of one's wits on the appropriate day, but then gradually uttered earlier and earlier in the week until you found yourself muttering it by 9AM on a Monday and disbelieving the fact you had five more days to go.  Yes, the DPM was legion, and there was (and still is) no identified cure. 

That said, there were still bright spots hidden in the muck (I wouldn't be Bobby Sunshine if I couldn't find em!) -- I took more days off than in previous years in an effort to avoid as much punishment as possible and don't forfeit any leave at year's end for a change.  I built retaining walls and ornamentally decorated others with tiles.  I hand placed and leveled eleventy billion patio bricks. I designed kitchens and watched hockey (world champs, baby!). I read books (discovering Harry Crews and his masterful A Feast of Snakes and diving deeper into Neil Gaiman never disappointed) and watched movies (Whiplash and Interstellar blew me away as I caught up from last year). I bought expensive drums and relaxed with Ladypants.

And above all I listened to music.   I got to two festivals, a ton of shows in between, and burned through even more albums at home, the best of which are detailed below.  Some you'll recognize as I wrote about them earlier in the year, others will be completely new and appear here for the first time.  There's 29 in all, which is up a bit from last year and potentially a good reason for me taking more time off so I can find even more next year.

Similar to last year the top slot features an offering from an all-time fave that was ten years in the making, and the list is also a little lighter than previous years on electro and rap again (there's only three of the former and NONE of the latter (though I listened to "Hotline Bling" almost enough to warrant an entry), which has only happened once before on these year-end reviews).  What remains, though, truly is the best of the best.  For while the extra free time gave me the opportunity to find a lot more music, it also allowed me to scrutinize what I found even more than usual.  So what shows up below has withstood some pretty withering scrutiny (exacerbated at times by a unabashedly crappy mood), which hopefully is an indicator of its quality.  So take a walk through the forest of the unfamiliar with me and see what calls out to you -- you may not like every thing suggested below, but I guarantee you'll be able to find something.

Until next time, my friends...enjoy! (And Merry Christmas!)
--BS
---------------------------------------------------------------

1. Sleater-Kinney -- No Cities to Love: This one had the top spot from the first listen and never looked back. Similar to a few others in the top five, this came out nearly an entire year ago and has managed to stand up to an unbelievable amount of listening, which would have exposed flaws in far lesser fare.  That it hasn't after this much time and punishment speaks to its exceptional quality -- ten songs of undeniable, irresistible listening that will leave you a breathless, spent puddle by the end of it. There's the hammer blow of the opening "Price Tag," "Surface Envy," and "Bury Our Friends," the rollicking "Fangless," "New Wave," and "Hey Darling."  There's the growling thunder of the closing "Fade" and the mindfuck of the year, "No Anthems."  There isn't a bad one in the bunch -- hell, there's barely one that's not "outstanding" -- and the fact that they were away one year for every song here is amazing.  To be gone that long and come back this potent speaks to why this is one of the best rock bands out there -- period.

I listened to this album more than any others this year by far, and in a year that was as infuriating and frustrating as this one was, it was the perfect accompaniment -- to either blow off some steam and shred (as a firm believer in the merits of percussive therapy, Janet Weiss' work is one of the best to thrash along to) or to muster the resolve to pick myself up and keep punching back. No other album had as many mind melting "holy F#$K!" moments as this one, and none were even remotely of the same magnitude.  This will fry your neighbor's brains when you put it on, it's that powerful.  These ladies remain one of my overall faves and true titans of rock. I can't think of anything more to say about them than I did earlier this year, other than they continue to blow me away ten months later.  Put this one on again and turn it up -- WAY up.

2. Alabama Shakes -- Sound & Color: This one didn't miss the top spot by much, representing the most surprising, vibrant, and at times difficult album -- both to categorize and digest, based on the expectations set on the debut -- but also the most continuously rewarding.  It's an absolute masterpiece, one I turned to relentlessly over the year and was never disappointed.  As I wrote before, the band took a huge risk putting out an album so different from their first, but it pays off magnificently.  What we get in return is an album that hits harder, registers deeper, and stays with you longer, shifting effortlessly from vintage soul, R&B, and blues, to their brand of Southern-tinged rock.

It's difficult to capture just how good they are here.  The blissfully warm title track, the powerhouse lead single "Don't Wanna Fight" (which was a personal, if not also professional theme song this year), the unbelievable "Dunes" and its Stax-style siblings "Future People," "Gimme All Your Love," "Miss You, and "Guess Who."  They all continue to amaze after repeated listens, and they give the more contemplative, quiet numbers like "This Feeling" and "Over My Head" even more power. Seeing it performed live was an almost religious experience, one that actually brought a tear to my eye at one point.  Frontwoman Brittany Howard and the boys have gone WAY above and beyond here.  This is one for the ages...

3. Built to Spill -- Untethered Moon: This is another one I wrote about earlier in the year (this will be a trend, as you might already have noticed), and another that's more than held up to some heavy listening.  Idaho legends Doug Martsch and Co. charged back after a six year hiatus (their longest to date) with their eight album, and it's a seamless addition to their already impressive catalog.  There are some bands who you might want (or tolerate) changing their sound and pushing the boundaries of what they can do as a unit, just to see what comes back. (See the Shakes above for one example of how it can go really well.)

This isn't one of those bands.  BTS is SO good at what they do -- smart, thoughtful indie rock, full of incredibly intricate guitar parts and melodies, constantly shifting tempos, and an array of thoughts and moods -- that I don't want them to change a thing.  They already find so much variety within the lines of such high quality that I don't want them to color outside of them. (I'm sure it would be amazing, but I don't want a Doug Martsch R&B album anytime soon...) They're essentially the pigs of the music world -- the best, most delectable and versatile being that I want every time it's offered to me, and more of every time I'm done.

That they've been doing so at this level for 20 years is pretty remarkable, and they don't show any signs of slowing down now.  They throw down the gauntlet with the first song, "All Our Songs" (honestly, there's not a band out there that does tone-setting, monster openers better than these guys), and don't slow down much from there.  "Living Zoo" and "Another Day" are among the best things they've recorded (I must have listened to both of them nearly a hundred times this year), "So" and "Some Other Song" slowly build towards explosions, "C.R.E.B." is a shape-shifting juggernaut, and "Never the Same" and "Horizon to Cliff" show Martsch's softer, sweeter side.  There's nary a note out of place (I still think "When I'm Blind" could use a slight trim in the middle, but its bookends are great).  Add this one to the pantheon of greatness.

4. The Districts -- A Flourish and a Spoil: The sophomore album from the boys from Philly gets off to a sizzling start with "4th and Roebling" as an expectant bass line and kick drum thump along, building incrementally as singer/guitarist Rob Grote comes in with the verse, and then exploding in full flourish with the second verse.  (When Grote sings what was often a piece of inner dialogue this year, "Sunshine, I believe we're headed the right way, but then again I can't quite tell for sure...") It shows right away what the band does so well -- build songs to frantic explosions that're so fulfilling you'll find yourself circling the room punching the air or drumming along in tandem.

These guys are hands-down one of my favorite bands to come along in the last few years, and I worked the shit out of this album from the time it came out in February and it hasn't diminished an iota since. The payoffs in tracks like "Hounds" and "Bold" are still irresistible, the singalongs for tracks like "Peaches," "Sing the Song," and "Heavy Begs" are still exuberant, and even the two hushed solo moments on "Suburban Smell" and "6AM" work nicely. Grote's lyrics continue to improve, as well, with notes of bitterness and anxiety whose origins (or target) may not always be clear, but that feel honest and true, allowing you to take them as your own from song to song. (Not that I have anything to be bitter about...)

Whether you pay attention to the lyrics or not, though, these guys just flat out slay -- this is an album chock full of gems from a band that should be twenty times bigger than they are. They're even better live, and never moreso than when they play their ready-made encore epic, "Young Blood," which remains nine minutes of pure perfection. They closed both shows I saw them at this year with it, and it destroys every time (as it does every time it comes on in my car). The shouted refrain at the end felt like a mantra of mine many times this year -- "it's a long way back to the height from where I am" -- but you're pumped to go smash back into that wall every time after listening.  Another killer album from a band that hopefully has half a dozen more like it in them.

5. Father John Misty -- I Love You, Honeybear: This is another one that came out really early in the year and that has spent more than a few spins on repeat on the stereo since.  Similar to the above, it's the second album for Misty, but unlike the Districts' follow-up effort that kills you with its climaxes, what kills you here is Misty's withering lyrics.  (His amazing voice and the lovely melodies don't hurt either.) As I wrote earlier this year, every song has at least a couple lines that are sharp enough to pierce stone, and that's what makes his stuff special -- how he juxtaposes that honey-laden croon with his snarky, at times wickedly funny lyrics. 

The potency hasn't been diluted at all in the intervening months -- lead single "Chateau Lobby #4 (in C for Two Virgins)," "Nothing Good Ever Happens at the Goddamn Thirsty Crow," and "Strange Encounter" still kill, while more subdued tracks like the opener and the last three on the album only got better with more listens. (I still hate the dancy "True Affection," which just sounds out of place, and skip it every time it comes on.) The album ages really well and rewards repeated listens, particularly on those last few songs.  When this first came out my brain was fried by the time I reached the halfway point of "Crow" and I'd just go back and listen to those opening tracks again, to see "did he just say that?" or to immerse myself in the brilliance of tracks like "Chateau" or "The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apt.," which remains my favorite song on the album and the best song that came out this year.

As the year went on, though, and I got to sit with some of those quieter numbers -- particularly the last three -- I saw that they were every bit as good as the early obsessions. I especially love "Bored in the USA," which is both hilarious and so perfectly representative of the bitter cynicism and malaise that Misty radiates (and I sometimes share) it should be a national anthem. (The opening line is "How many people rise and say, 'My brain's so awfully glad to be here for yet another mindless day?'" -- and it only gets better after that.) It's a hell of an album and worth every ounce of effort to sit down and just listen to it (and nothing else).

6. Shakey Graves -- And the War Came; Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats -- Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats; Black Pistol Fire -- Hush or Howl: This slot's for my Southern soul and a couple albums that kept it going this year.  First up is Shakey's sophomore outing, which marks a dramatic leap forward from his uneven debut, Roll the Bones.  This one's borderline perfection, with songs so winning and melodies so infectious you're all but powerless to sing along.  He doesn't change the recipe -- it's still primarily him on guitar with his suitcase kickdrum and tamb -- but the songs that pair him with a full band (or better yet, his knee-buckling harmonies with Esme Patterson) give the songs an extra oomph that was often missing on the debut.  There's nary a bad track to be found -- "The Perfect Parts," "Dearly Departed," and "Big Time Nashville Star" all are rollicking, big-hearted singles, while "Only Son," "Hard Wired," "Pansy Waltz," and "House of Winston" all hit the softer, more sentimental side.  The effect overall is an unqualified success -- a little bit of heart and a little country swagger, like ole Sunshine after a couple sazeracs.  Fantastic album.

Next comes one of my accidental, but probably most prized, discoveries this year, the outstanding debut from Rateliff and his band of merry men.  Rateliff has been doing the solo singer-songwriter thing for several years now, but was struggling to break through (which is a shame because his solo stuff has some beauties tucked away), so he decided to take one more swing at it, this time ditching the melancholic man on stage and replacing him with a raucous gang of ruffians to see if that resonated.  The result was nothing short of a bomb blast, as the band offered up some of the most ebullient, uplifting music of the year -- part Mardi Gras second line, part tobacco fields spirituals, this is revival music at its finest, food for your heart and soul.  Both sides will go away more than nourished here, the former from tracks like "Howling at Nothing," "Wasting Time," and "Mellow Out," the latter from booming tracks like "I Need Never Get Old," "Trying so Hard Not to Know," "Look it Here," and the irresistible "S.O.B.," which is a close second for my favorite track of the year.  It's an infectious blend, one that'll get you moving early and often, no matter how many times you listen to it.

Last up is one that came out late last year and got lost in the shuffle of prepping for the holidays and processing the year's worth of music that came before it, but luckily wasn't lost completely.  That's because once I got around to it, it completely knocked me on my ass -- I put it on regular repeat and haven't stopped since. This is only the second album for the Austin-based blues duo, yet they sound as confident and self-assured as a band with three times as much output.  The album's brisk 30-odd minutes are chock full with some monster songs (at 9:2 it's a lot more "Howl" than "Hush") -- the opening trio of "Alabama Coldcock," "Dimestore Heartthrob," and "Baby Ruthless" are an irresistible onslaught that pauses only momentarily before thundering through another sterling triple -- "Hipster Shakes," "Run Rabbit Run," and "Honeydripper."  "Show Pony" is the album's final major assault, and it's every bit as good as its predecessors, with breaks that could smash concrete.

The band (and album) are reminiscent of the Black Keys/White Stripes with glimmers of Zeppelin (who they weave into their mixtape-like live sets, along with Marley, Springsteen, and others) as guitarist Kevin McKeown and drummer Eric Owen thrash away, but don't write them off as derivative.  This is a fantastic album, one that somehow manages to sound even better live. I've caught the guys twice this year and it didn't matter whether I was in a field with hundreds of people or a living room with a few dozen, they absolutely shredded the place.  Pop this one in and crank it up to eleven -- it's about to get swampy.

7. Astral Swans -- All my Favorite Singers are Willie Nelson; Foals -- What Went Down: This slot's for strange bedfellows -- one a strange, hypnotic debut, the other a much awaited return from a recent fave -- but a duo that worked in tandem to keep the Sunshine Express moving this year.  For the former, in a year that was a brutalizing as this past year was, little pools of solace were often all I had to keep going.  So like a shimmering pond and palm tree in the desert, I found myself pulling my bloodied husk towards the refuge and relief of things like this album time and again.  Calgary native Matthew Swann's hushed voice, fractal lyrics, and the resulting foggy, fuzzy atmosphere formed the sonic representation of my emotional resolve this year.  When he sings "it's a teeeeeeeeerrible state" over and over on "Please Don't Leave me Strange" or things like "I will never forget, even when my mind is gone" on "Holly Drive" in scarcely more than a whisper, you can picture him lying there battered on the floor, croaking out the lines that way because a whisper's all he could muster. (And that may or may not be how/where I would be listening to it, in a very similar state.)

It's a great, strange album -- part 60s folk and psychedelic, part 90s grunge -- that's tough to categorize and even tougher to turn off. The album's twelve songs fit together perfectly to create this warm, intoxicating haze, as Swann's voice and his catchy melodies reach out from the speakers and envelop you.  High points remain the opening "There are Ways to get What you Want," the punky "Let Their Faces All Blur Out," and the plaintive "What Calms you Down, Freaks me Out." And for the busted up listener on the mat, the versatility of Swann's cryptic lyrics will keep you coming back for more, as they at times seem like fragments of your own thoughts. ("Let's have the weekend, until the beginning of the end" from "Beginning of the End" or "when my mind broke to the point of not feeling" on "Grass Girl.") A strong debut, which hopefully has a near-term follow on.

The back half picks up where the former leaves off, getting me moving once I've finally gotten off the floor, completing a ritual I performed hundreds of times this year. It's the fourth album from the British five piece and it finds them sounding better than ever after a couple years off, continuing the momentum from that strong last outing. (2013's Holy Fire) It's their fullest assault to date, showcasing the band's numerous strengths -- the knotty, jaunty guitar parts that crisscross and swirl like dive-bombing birds ("Birch Tree," "Albatross," "Night Swimmers"); the insurgent rockers that trample forward like charging bulls (the title track, "Snake Oil"); the blissed out, downtempo numbers that stretch out into the black ("Give it All," "London Thunder").

All of them are propelled by frontman Yannis Philippakis, whose intensity helps lend a number of the songs a grandeur and urgency not previously seen.  The band's always had a raw, buoyant energy, but it's tended to tip more towards the cerebral side in years past.  Here Philippakis and Co. seem to be aiming more for the heart, with more unadorned lyrics and his plaintive wail, which gives the album an anthemic feel at times. It translates well live, too, with lead guitarist Jimmy Smith gleefully singing along mike free to each of the album's tracks while drummer Jack Bevan uncorks some utterly head-scratching rhythms. (I was intently watching him and still don't know how his movements match up to the sound on some tracks.)  It's a potent mix, and the band does a nice job shifting between the moods and colors to keep you off-balance.  It gives the album a rich, varied feel that keeps you coming back for more.

8. Cold War Kids -- Hold my Home;  Modest Mouse -- Strangers to Ourselves: This slot's for the bald, bearded guys who work as quality control technicians for the DPM, and a return to form for two of their favorite bands (though not necessarily their ladies'). First up are the Cold War Kids whose fifth album finds them continuing the resurgence they found on their last, Dear Miss Lonelyhearts, and stepping ever further from the overwrought mess of a middle album.  It's a welcome sight -- I'd all but written them off after that album, and it wasn't until the swing for the fences earnestness on "Miracle Mile" that I decided to give them another shot.  And I'm glad I did -- Lonelyhearts was a solid return to form, if a bit meek at times, almost like the band itself was testing the waters and seeing how it felt. This album shakes off all the shyness and is far more self-assured, as evident on songs like "Drive Desperate," "Hotel Anywhere," the title track, and "Flower Drum Song," which crackle with energy.  They shift seamlessly to slower songs as well, tracks like "First," "Nights & Weekends," and "Harold Bloom," where lead singer Nathan Willett breaks into a convincing croon. It's an eclectic mix, which is what the band has always offered at its best, and this marches them a whole lot closer to the greatness of their debut.

Speaking of eclectic mix, next is the return of Modest Mouse, six years since their last EP (the middling No One's First, and You're Next) and eight since their last studio album (the masterful We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank).  Thankfully it tips far closer to the latter, a characteristic smorgasbord of weirdness and charm as only frontman Isaac Brock could offer up. There's straightforward winners like lead single "Lampshades on Fire," "The Ground Walks, With Time in a Box," "Be Brave," and "The Best Room," slower fare like the lovely "Coyotes" and the lurching "Shit in Your Cut" and "The Tortoise and the Tourist."  And then there's the vintage Isaac weirdness -- the carnival soundtrack of "Sugar Boats," the indecipherable fragment "God is an Indian and You're an Asshole," and the serial killer on the phone vocals of "Pistol (A. Cunanan, Miami, FL 1996)," which is infectious insanity and what I imagine a clown's inner monologue sounds like. Somehow it all hangs together, though, and what would sound like an unholy mess in less skilled hands sounds like a carefully crafted monument in Isaac's. Here's to him not taking the better part of the decade off again and coming back soon.

9. Bear's Den -- Islands; James Bay -- Chaos and the Calm; The Hunts -- Those Younger Days:  This slot's for pure prettiness, with a couple of bands whose debut albums offered some of the year's lovelier tracks.  I found all of them at festivals -- the first two at my annual pilgrimage home to Lolla, the last one at the party in my backyard that was Landmark -- and each of them has stayed with me in the months since.  On paper there are a couple stark differences -- the Lolla ones are comprised of four unrelated lads from London, the Landmark one seven siblings from Maryland; the first two are mid/late twenty year olds singing of love and loss, the last one kids in their late teens/early twenties singing with the unvarnished optimism to which their relative youth typically subscribes -- but each aims for the heart and routinely finds their target.

Wielding a mess of acoustic guitars and supplementary strings, the bands offer up albums full of top notch melodies that'll weaken the knees and wound the ticker -- for Bear's Den it's tracks like "Agape," "Isaac," "Bad Blood," and "Above the Clouds of Pompeii," which still draws blood half a year later; for the Hunts it's ones like "Valentina," "Illuminate," "Douse the Flame" and "Make this Leap," which still borders on pure jubilation with every listen. 

And then there's Bay, whose album (and age) walks the line between the two, as the title implies  -- full-throated pop songs like "Craving," "If You Ever Want to be in Love," "When we Were on Fire," and "Get Out While You Still Can," each of which will have you belting the words out alongside him. He mixes these with slower gems like "Hold Back the River," "Let it Go," "Move Together," and "Need the Sun to Break," which smolder with Bay's voice and honest lyrics. In a year that was filled with frustration and fury, I often found myself turning to these for solace, to bask in the warmth of their hearths and find quarter from the unrelenting storm.


10. Chemical Brothers -- Born in the Echoes; Skrillex and Diplo -- Skrillex and Diplo Present: Jack U; Major Lazer -- Peace is the Mission: This slot's for the electroheads, and despite not being in the mood to boogie much this year thanks to my relentless friend the DPM, there were a few selections that managed to punch through the punishment and get things moving.  First up is the latest from the veteran Chems, their first studio album in five years and their eighth overall, and as I wrote earlier it's a perfect summation of their previous offerings.  There's the hard charging "Sometimes I Feel so Deserted" and "EML Ritual," the hypnotic "Under Neon Lights" and title track, the big beats of "Go" and "I'll See you There," and the spacy "Reflexion" and "Taste of Honey." It's a wide ranging affair, one that culminates with the buoyant "Wide Open," which serves as the equivalent of daybreak after the album's soundtrack to a night in the club.

Next comes the ballyhooed pairing of two of electro's biggest names, the EDM equivalent of Kanye and Jay-Z teaming up a few years back.  And similar to that offering (which also ended up on the year end list) it lives up to the hype, showcasing the strengths of each of the participants without sounding dissonant or disjointed.  Which is saying something, as I'm normally not the biggest fan of Skrillex -- his monsters-fucking-a-space-station sound can be grating at times, but here it blends nicely with Diplo's more motley assortment of tones and influences, sometimes seamlessly as on tracks like "Beats Knocking" and "Febreze."  Other tracks tip more towards Diplo's style, and actually call to mind his work on the Major Lazer album that would come out several months later (more on that in a second).  Tracks like "To U," "Mind," and "Take U" (particularly the mind-fryingly good version with Missy's verses) all soar and wouldn't sound out of place on that album. Even the track with Justin Bieber ("Where Are You Now") works well. (Bieber hands to the sky!)

It's a perfect companion to the third Lazer album, which as I wrote earlier shows Diplo and Co slowing things down a bit to powerful effect. Similar to those last few tracks on Jack U, the best moments here are the half steppers, the ones that glide along on the backs of some killer female vocals and even better beats.  Tracks like the opening "Be Together," the closing "All my Love," and the monster duo of "Lean On" and "Powerful" in between outshine almost everything around it. The uptempo tracks still sizzle, though -- maybe a little more so for the juxtaposition -- "Blaze up the Fire" and "Roll the Bass" are pure dancehall grime, while "Too Original" is the track that would burn the dancehall to the ground; an absolute fucking monster. Diplo keeps his title as electro's Midas with two more notches in the win column here.  Crank it up.

11. Catfish and the Bottlemen -- The Balcony; Hippo Campus -- Bashful Creatures/South; Atlas Genius -- Inanimate Objects: These three represent the poppier side of things, a mix of big hooks, bigger choruses, and more synth than I usually allow myself close to, but it works so I'm not going to fight it (or apologize).  First up are a couple of debuts from bands I found back at Lolla -- Catfish and company come our way from across the pond, Hippo and the kids from Minnesota -- and both were instant faves at the festival.  They've held up well in the intervening months, Catfish on the backs of their insanely catchy tunes (the opening trio of "Homesick," "Kathleen," and "Cocoon" are absolute whoppers, followed by equally winning tracks like "Pacifier" and "Business"), while Hippo does so on their pure effervescence.  (Songs like "Sophie So," "Little Grace," and the seal barking "Suicide Saturday" are pure sunshine, as are later releases "Dollar Bill" and "South.") Pop either on to put a kick in your step -- you'll be dancing around and singing in no time.

Last up is the follow-on album from Aussie synth pop dynamos Atlas, whose first album was an infectious blend of jangly guitars, shimmery keys, and big pop choruses, and this one's no different.  From the opening one-two of "The Stone Mill" and lead single "Molecules," to latter gems "Stockholm," "A Perfect End," and "The City we Grow," the band shows they can still wallop a pop hit like the best of 'em. They show some respectable range as well, on tracks like the smoldering "Where I Belong" and the lovely duo of "Balladino" and "Levitate," the latter of which closes the album on a blissful, serene note.  It's a solid showing for a band trying to stand up to some serious pressure thanks to their hit maker of a debut.  They handle it nicely, though, and keep us interested in what round III will hold.

12. The Arcs -- Yours, Dreamily; Avers -- Empty Light: This slot's for the throwbacks and a couple of albums that winningly conjure up sounds from decades past.  First up it's Black Keys frontman Dan Auerbach's side project debut, a mix of 60s psychedelia and 70s soul that for some reason calls to mind spaghetti westerns and 70s cop movies to me. A number of songs/riffs seem tailor made for movie soundtracks of that era -- "Put a Flower in Your Pocket," "Pistol Made of Bone," "Cold Companion" -- they all crackle with that vintage feel that's part scuzzy fuzz, part shimmering sunlight. Tracks like "Velvet Ditch" (which switches from a Sergio Leone style whistle to a classic funk riff before the song even starts) and "Come & Go" (which sounds like the movie it's backing is already playing in the background) only deepen the effect.  More straightforward tracks keep things from going too far into the ether -- lead single "Outta my Mind" and "The Arc" are busting with energy rockers, while "Stay in my Corner" and "Rosie (Ooh La La)" are pure soul.  Auerbach's got a hell of an ear for melody, and as with his regular gig (and solo stuff) he doesn't disappoint here.

The back half's for the debut from the Richmond six piece Avers who I managed to catch at Landmark festival and was blown away -- in part by the volume (which with a five vocalist, four guitar attack was epic), but mostly by the killer mix of psychedelic haze and garage rock they conjure up.  As I wrote then, they shift effortlessly between British invasion style rock ("The Only One," "Girls With Headaches") and fuzzed up noir ("White Horses," "Harvest," "Evil") and the overall effect is a knockout.  Even slower, more ethereal songs like the title track, "Barrel to Mouth," or "Top of the Stairs" work with their smoldering moodiness.  With so many vocalists taking the lead throughout the album, each with a unique sensibility and tone, it leads to a wide range of textures and depth that's continuously fulfilling.  This is another debut that leaves you longing for a quick follow-on.

13. Ex Hex -- Rips; Honeyblood -- Honeyblood: This slot's for the lady killers -- not hunky slabs of man meat who'll melt your heart and captivate your dreams such as myself, but rather a gang of ladies who will knock those guys, and everyone around them, on their butts.  First up is DC-native Mary Timona's latest project, a three piece I discovered at Landmark and immediately dug as they whipped the crowd up with their Joan Jett-style rockers. As I wrote then, the lyrics may not knock you over, but the attitude and hooks will, and they've got ample helpings of both to do the job.  Tracks like "Don't Wanna Lose," "Beast," "You Fell Apart," and "Waterfall" all continue to invoke the album title and rip, while songs like "Waste Your Time," "How You Got That Girl," and "Outro" smother the sneer and show a little vulnerability.  It's just a flat out fun album, chock full of energy and hooks.  Pop it in and start pogoing.

Next is the Scottish duo Honeyblood, who I sort of stumbled into by accident.  Their lead single "Bud" came out a couple years ago and I'd really enjoyed it, but hadn't heard anything more from them.  Until, that is, I bought tickets for the wrong show and ended up catching their tour for their full length debut earlier this year.  (As with everything this year, reading was apparently too taxing for me so when I thought I saw "Houndmouth" was playing and bouth tickets, this was who actually showed up...)  It turned out to be a happy accident, though, because lead singer/guitarist Stina Marie Claire Tweeddale and drummer Shona McVicar offer up a bunch of catchy, punky songs that'll get stuck in your head. From tracks like "Fall Forever" and "Super Rat" to "Killer Bangs" and "All Dragged Up," the album is chock full of brash, pissed off songs about breakups and love that are as catchy as they are unguarded.  Slower tracks like "(I'd Rather Be) Anywhere But Here," "No Spare Key," and "Joey" round things out nicely, and Tweeddale's Glaswegian accent makes everything sound more alluring throughout.  Here's to intermittent literacy and strokes of fortune (and all things Scottish!)...

14. Two Gallants -- We Are Undone; Benjamin Booker -- Benjamin Booker: This slot's for some good old fashioned blues, the first by the San Francisco twosome on their sixth full length album, the latter a solo affair by the New Orleans-based newcomer on his first.  The Gallants offer more of what we expect here -- a hearty mix of uptempo stompers (the title track, "Incidental," "Fools Like Us"), smoldering gems ("Invitation to the Funeral," "Some Trouble"), and heartfelt, winning shufflers ("My Man Go," "Katy Kruelly," "There's so Much I Don't Know").  It's even better live, as lead singer/guitarist Adam Stephens and drummer Tyson Vogel fill the room with an unexpected amount of earnest noise for a twin bill.

Booker is even more unabashed and raw on his brash, unbridled debut.  From the punky opener of "Violent Shiver" to fellow thunderpunches "Have You Seen my Son" and "Old Hearts," there's very few missteps for the 26-year old.  Add to the aforementioned the hard charging "Always Waiting," "Wicked Waters," and "Kids Never Grow Older" and you've got an album whose winners more than outpace the minor detractions.  This one came out late last year and similar to BPF's latest got caught in the end of the year frenzy that kept me from discovering it until the snow was past the roof.  I'm glad I finally dug into it, though. Even the slower tracks work well -- "Slow Coming," "I Thought I Heard you Screaming," and "By the Evening" showcase Booker's raspy voice and unvarnished heart nicely.  It's a winning affair, rough edges and all.

15. Houndmouth -- Little Neon Limelight; Thunderbitch -- Thunderbitch: This slot's another one for my backwater leanings and two more fragments from my Southern soul. First up is the follow-up from the Louisville foursome I wrote about earlier this year. As I wrote then, it's an album that showcases the band's fantastic four-part harmonies and winning melodies, but what kept it from fully resonating with me (then as now) is a mix of false bravado and insincere (or overly contrived) lyrics. That still stands -- on the songs where it's most flagrant it still sticks out like the chick throwing her hair around and dancing like a pole dancer in a crowded club -- but in the intervening months my annoyance with those aberrations has diminished.

That's probably in part to seeing them live at Landmark this summer.  What came across as cloying and slightly annoying on the album seemed more sincere in person when the four bandmates seemed to honestly be enjoying themselves and the songs; it came across as more playful and earnest than artificial and engineered. I still maintain they're at their best when they ditch the posturing and sing what they know -- tracks like "Sedona," "Honey Slider," "Gasoline," and "Darlin'" still shine this many months later -- so you hope they find that sweet spot on their third outing and really take it to the next level.

If the knock on the first one is limited sincerity in the lyrics, the knock on the second one could be limited depth there.  In its brief ten song, thirty-odd minute duration well over half the songs make references to rock and roll, guitars, parties, and a leather jacket. If you take the album for what it is, though -- Alabama Shakes frontwoman Brittany Howard's unbridled id -- it's a more excusable offense.  Impulses of the id aren't supposed to be deep, they're supposed to be raw, primal, and fun.  And these are (or to steal a line from the song on the aforementioned jacket, "totally fuckin' awesome") -- said song of bovine backwear, "I Don't Care," "I Wanna Rock and Roll," "Eastside Party," "Wild Child," "My Baby is my Guitar," "Let Me Do What I Do Best" -- these tracks are loud, rough eruptions of Howard's reptilian part of the brain (or her ample pair of she-balls). It actually calls to mind what I picture the Shakes' early days sounded like, banging away in the back room of a bar, the crowd packed in, drunk, and sweaty, but loving every minute of it.

Howard balances these songs nicely with three key emanations from her softer side, the side displayed more nakedly (and to masterful effect) on the Shakes' follow on, as noted above. Tracks like "Very Best Friend," "Heavenly Feeling," and the sledgehammer of a song, "Closer," are all perfectly positioned to break up the blitzkreig pace of the songs around it.  They're the equivalent of a tall glass of water in the midst of a night-long bender. (Shot! Shot! Shot! Water. Shot! Shot! Water.) Overall it's a fun sidestep from her day job and the soundtrack to a solid evening on the tiles for you and yours.