Author: Riley Urbano
It’s 2021, and music has never sounded better, or mattered less. Some of it did, at least to me, but so much of the work that churned out of our increasingly derelict culture industry seemed to arrive already compromised. In 2020, label tycoons and critical arbiters gave in to their most decadent impulses, streaming services quantified and commodified creative success on their own predatory terms, and here in the United States, the neoliberal regime’s refusal to provide for struggling artists throughout the Coronavirus pandemic made it almost impossible for them to survive, let alone seriously compete for the kind of clout that lands you in any of the year end lists or streaming algorithms that matter.
In short, 2020 was one of the worst years in my lifetime to be an artist and, therefore, one of the worst years in my lifetime for art. What does it mean to discuss the “best art” under such dire circumstances? To hear Pitchfork tell it, it was yet another year brimming over with pleasant middle-brow excursions and empowering cultural victories that all square neatly with the liberal leanings of that outlet and its parent, the “global mass media” conglomerate Condé Nast. This approach was repeated ad nauseam by everyone from the Youtubers hoping to be the next Anthony Fantano to the New Yorker Magazine, the staff of which was apparently blown over by that sullen Dua Lipa record (as were, inexplicably, the writers at the Quietus). So instead of that, I want to try to break at least a little from the critical consensus that’s got underpaid freelancers deigning to celebrate the “coolness” of major label schlock – unless I’m wrong, and the people who still read stuff like this really would like to hear yet another faint voice rushing to agree about the undeniable goodness of the same few records everyone else is talking about. It helps that, for all the doom and gloom of the last year, a lot of really good music did make it out of the whirlwind. Without further ado…
10. Tricot – Makkuro
Of course, I’m a hypocrite, and this list begins with a major label release. Not an American major, but a titan nonetheless – Avex, a massive corporation that handles Japanese releases for artists like Miley Cyrus and Selena Gomez, although in fairness they’ve released plenty of Boredoms as well. Fortunately, the trade up hasn’t seemed to blunt any of Tricot’s delightfully weird edge, and Makkuro (along with a companion album celebrating the band’s tenth birthday) is just as tightly coiled, creatively composed, and propulsive as anything the band’s ever released. One of my favorite tracks on Makkuro, whose title roughly translates as “Look At Me,” jumps from one of the group’s characteristically angular math grooves into a sinister verse that honest-to-God reminds me of the Teen Titans theme – the other record, 10, also demonstrates a bit of a pop punk influence, demonstrating that the group still has plenty of tricks up their sleeves. I’ve got to say, I’m incredibly happy to see a band find success seemingly on their own terms, working their way up the ladder without ever sacrificing the unique qualities that captured me when I discovered them back in 2017. Tricot’s a solid J-Pop group disguised as a math rock band, or maybe it’s the other way around; either way, what’s not to like?
9. Bent Arcana – Bent Arcana
I’m ready to argue that Bent Arcana is the best thing that John Dwyer put out this year. It may be an all-time career highlight, right up there with his most inspired work with Thee Oh Sees, Damaged Bug, et cetera, and I’ll argue that even knowing that it’s probably impossible to listen to everything the guy’s ever had a hand in. What’s especially impressive about that is that Dwyer’s never played further against type, forgoing all of his usual obsessions and assembling a completely new band to record, of all things, a seriously exceptional jazz fusion record. Dwyer’s newfound expertise as a producer post-Mutilator hasn’t been put to better use since Orc, and the expansive instrumental palette, including modular synths, strings, and brass, add a lot of depth to these explorative, completely improvised jams. It would take most people at least a year to make a record this good, and this group made it in five days. Bent Arcana is more than just a curio for Oh Sees fanatics or Bandcamp kids – it’s easily one of the most essential jazz records by anyone not named Shabaka Hutchings in the last decade.
8. R.A.P. Ferreira – Purple Moonlight Pages
A victory for independent artists of all shapes and sizes, but especially for Rory Ferreria, F.K.A. Milo, A.K.A. Scallops Hotel, working here under the nom de plume R.A.P. Ferreira with production from the Jefferson Park Boys, them being Kenny Segal, Mike Parvizi, and Aaron (“Mr.”) Carmack. That all may sound terribly complicated, but really, Purple Moonlight Pages is probably the most straightforward thing Ferreira has ever done, a nearly perfect hip hop record from an artist who hasn’t stopped picking up momentum since 2015’s So The Flies Don’t Come. Ferreira’s more interested in the history of rap (and music in general) than a lot of his peers, which comes out in Purple Moonlight Pages mostly in the form of little touches – deep-cut jazz beats, DJ scratches sampling other rappers, deeply referential lyrics, and so on. The stunning exception here is the closer, “Masterplan,” a completely out-of-left-field homage to the epochal Pharoah Sanders cut that comprises the majority of his landmark record, Karma. That’s the kind of boldness I find to be sorely missing in a lot of the last year’s hip hop, considering all the major artists that totally whiffed (Jay Electronica, Eminem, Lil Uzi Vert), and all the cynical posthumous releases from former new kids that the industry killed far too young (Juice WRLD, Pop Smoke, Mac Miller). The fact that albums like this still happen, and even manage to find success outside of the horrifying major label system, gives me a glimmer of hope for the future of independent music.
7. Pet Shimmers – Face Down In Meta
I’m not really sure what it means to call something a rock record anymore, but I’m reasonably confident that Pet Shimmers’ Face Down In Meta (along with its solid companion record, Trash Earthers) is the best rock record of the year. The band is wildly free in their approach to songcraft, gleefully augmenting (and sometimes destroying) their performances in post to create the kind of raw feeling you can’t just buy from an expensive producer. There are moments where Meta feels as massive and psychedelic as the best work of the Flaming Lips or as digitally fried as MGMT’s best material, and they’re somehow reinforced by complete left turns into acoustic balladry or lofi ambience that keep the listening experience exciting from front to back. I’m almost reminded of a quote from someone behind the last record that made me feel this way: I believe it was Rostam Batmanglij, speaking about Modern Vampires of the City, who said that it was rock music, but it was composed more like electronic music, with a surgical sense of precision. You can hear something like that in every second of Face Down In Meta, and I only hope that other artists follow them down their weird-but-completely-undeniable creative path.
6. Bob Dylan – Rough And Rowdy Ways
I find it fitting that the man who defined the culture of the Sixties felt he had something to say in 2020, which came as close to 1968 in terms of sheer political insanity as I ever hope to get. I also find it fitting that, as in ‘68, Bob Dylan appears to be completely disinterested in politics; four eventful years out from “The Times They Are A-Changin’” and well into his electric period, Dylan wouldn’t pen anything explicitly political again until 1976’s “Hurricane”. Even the most political song on the new record, “Murder Most Foul,” devotes plenty more time to ruminations and reveries of ‘60s radio than it does to its ostensible subject, the murder of John F. Kennedy. Still, that isn’t to say that Rough And Rowdy Ways isn’t a work of depth, wisdom, and even catharsis. Furthermore, it’s a masterclass in performance and composition – Dylan’s never been more in control of his instrument, and the band behind him is understated, but effective. Having spent the months since June turning these songs over in my mind, researching the lyrical references, taking in the sometimes surprising wit and clarity of the now 79 year old singer, I’ve kind of arrived at the conclusion that Rough And Rowdy Ways is, like much of Dylan’s late period work, a reminder that art doesn’t need a stated political message in order to convey powerful ideas. A wide-eyed survey of aesthetics, of literature, of music, of life and death: good for the soul, if you have one.
5. Sault – UNTITLED (Black Is) / UNTITLED (Rise)
It’s easy to commend SAULT and the two LP’s they released last year for their politics, which are laudable – few records in 2020 addressed the racial tensions that erupted throughout the year more directly or more compellingly. However, much more interesting is the way that this thematic focus is reinforced by the group’s kaleidoscopic celebration of black musical styles from the seventies up to now – these are some of the best “sound” records I’ve heard in years. Just listen to the marching band drumline on track one of (Rise) and you’ll see what I mean… Some aspects of SAULT’s sound are wildly fresh and forward thinking, like the totally raw, distorted vocals (a huge contrast to most vocal production in today’s pop “R&B”) or the sharp digital edges left wildly visible in the mix on most tracks; however, what really makes the new and exciting stuff pop is that it’s all anchored to the very live feel of a real band performing in a room. There are moments across these records that recall legends like Prince and Stevie Wonder, held tight against excursions into traditional African music and even a few attempts at conventional hip hop. All things considered, SAULT is easily one of the most exciting groups to emerge from the world of soul or R&B in years, and it was heartening to see such a talented group of fresh faces stick the landing – twice! – in 2020.
4. Adrianne Lenker – songs / instrumentals
Every time Adrianne Lenker releases something new, whether it’s a solo record or something with her exceptionally talented band, Big Thief, I’m impressed all over again with how deftly she bucks all going trends within the realm of “singer/songwriters” and positions herself completely beyond her peers in the genre. Despite being some of her most understated and subtle work, songs and instrumentals may be Lenker’s boldest statement yet, a reconfiguration of her style into something so nakedly minimal and gossamer that it almost threatens to dissolve at the first hint of resistance. Fortunately, it never does – just like everything else Lenker’s ever written, these songs are almost all instant classics, and they’re elevated towards the sublime by the naturalistic analog recording and presentation. On highlights like “zombie girl” or either of the second disc’s long instrumental pieces, the wind whistling around the microphones are about as loud as the instruments – and it works as well here as it works on The Glow Pt. 2, which is really the only record I can think to compare these discs to. These songs sounded like they’d been with me for years from the very first time I listened to them; like the best work of the masters, Adrianne Lenker’s songs are fast friends.
3. Autechre – SIGN / PLUS
Few artists have experimented so boldly with the new rules of art in the information age as Autechre, so the duo’s return to the LP format is shocking after a decade of unconventional releases like 2018’s eight hour NTS Sessions. That being said, the fact that the companion records SIGN and PLUS can fit on to a reasonable amount of vinyl discs doesn’t mean they aren’t as forward thinking or impossibly intricate as anything Autechre’s done since 2013’s Exai. In a fitting reflection of the last year’s isolation, these records are much more introspective and meditative than the speculative architectures of their other late works – on SIGN especially, melody and progression have taken precedence over Autechre’s usual preoccupations with texture and space, presumably to foreground all the melancholy they’ve written into these songs. PLUS presents a manic counterpart to SIGN’s near ambiance, indulging in higher tempos and longer track lengths while maintaining a stronger link to the virtuoso sound design experiments of records like elseq and the NTS Sessions – there’s also “marhide,” the weirdest thing they’ve cut since the zanier bits on Quaristice. Across both discs, Autechre once again elevates computer music, now the most common and banal thing on the market, into a vehicle for sincere emotion, vigorous creativity, and genuine artistry. Exceedingly rare!
2. Jeff Parker – Suite For Max Brown
Between Bent Arcana and Suite For Max Brown, 2020 was probably the best year for American jazz in decades. Suite For Max Brown takes an entirely different approach than Dwyer to the genre: while Dwyer seems mostly interested in the proto-prog ‘70s work of Miles Davis and his acolytes, Jeff Parker is much more expansive, nodding to more than a few eras of jazz while also deftly working soul, R&B, hip hop, and even ambient music into his sound throughout Max Brown’s airtight forty minutes. So much of Max Brown shouldn’t make sense, like “Del Rio’s” early bop progression retooled into a quasi-hip hop track led by a kalimba; who thinks of stuff like this? The same can be said of “After the Rain” and “Metamorphoses,” an ingress towards Pharoah Sanders-esque spiritual ambiance that swerves abruptly into “Gnarciss,” the record’s jazz rap inflected centerpiece (and highlight). It’s a testament to Jeff Parker’s boundless skill as a guitarist, composer, and bandleader that a record this expansive and weird holds together, and it’s a testament to Jeff’s love for his mother, the record’s dedicatee, that every song brims over with warmth, joy, and emotional resonance.
1. Machine Girl – U-Void Synthesizer
Machine Girl released their best album to date, U-Void Synthesizer, on February 26th. Within a week or so, America began to spiral as pestilence (and eventually, racial violence) took hold of the country; politically, things have really only gotten worse from there. Very few artists made art that grappled with the desolation of the last twelve months seriously; like most Americans, they were more or less compelled by the state to keep their heads down and keep working, no matter how dangerous things got. In this context, it’s remarkable just how clearly U-Void Synthesizer seems to predict with such specificity the precise awfulness of the last year, without even trying. The group has never been more in command of their sound – every scream, every blast beat, and every glitch is deployed for maximum impact, and the group’s songwriting abilities, as demonstrated on highlights like the dystopian synth-pop of “Scroll of Sorrow” or the harsh noise of “Fully In It,” have never been sharper. Artists and critics seem to think there’s a lot of money in pretending things are normal beyond a superficial allusion to “these uncertain times,” and, how would I know? Maybe they’re right. Still, there’s much more artistic value in engaging honestly and seriously with the world you live in, and by that token, U-Void Synthesizer is undeniably the music of the moment. We’re all fully in it now.
Riley Urbano | batsu forever | KXSU Music Reporter