1.
Foxy Shazam The Church of Rock & Roll
I didn’t know how to take this at first, then realized that’s a function of the band’s genius. Lead singer Eric Nally is equal parts Freddy Mercury and Andy Kaufman, and in concert the band behind him is capable of the kind of clowning that can upstage their frontman at any given moment, but on record the obvious weapon is the songwriting. As well as these guys can play (in at least two definitions of the word), they also manage to write songs brimming with hooks, intelligence, power, sensitivity, vulgarity and outright weirdness, each one better than the last, and all polished to a professional sheen. I can stand back and laugh at it all from a distance of detached irony, or I can get sucked into the moment, helpless to resist the pop drama in every 3 minute over-the-top opera they concoct. Both and either. Genius.
2.
My Jerusalem Preachers
Maybe a whole new brew of “cosmic American music,” incorporating strains that didn’t yet exist back when Gram was first coining the term. I hear the expected melodic folk and rootsy Americana in this soup, but they’re boiling in a mishmash with the smooth gloom of 80s goth and the noisy clamor of 90s alt.rock. That’s a gumbo I ain’t never even smelled before, let alone tasted. Their debut last year was similarly schizo, but nowhere near so clearly the work of a single artistic vision (possible kudos to the production of Spoon’s Jim Eno, but probably more to do with the simple math of time x distance), and that makes all the difference.
3.
Ian Hunter & the Rant Band When I’m President
In a year that tossed accolades at the geriatric set, further lionizing the likes of Neil, Bruce, Van, and (that charlatan of charlatans) Dylan, the one old guy who truly delivered has been roundly ignored. Hunter is over 70 years old, and here he’s put out the album I would’ve hoped the Stones to make as a follow-up to
Exile. Profound, pissed off, and still plugged in to the r’n’r source, he also benefits from having an actual touring band rather than an assemblage of session musos. They don’t simply back him up, they step on his toes and elbow for space. Hunter’s Achilles Heel remains his penchant for the same tune-challenged ballad he’s been writing since “Trudy’s Song” derailed
The Hoople (although his apparent insistence on hideous album covers is perhaps an even bigger weakness), but he keeps those moments down to a minimum, instead concentrating on the kind of surging rockers he’d mostly abandoned after Mick Ronson skipped out on his mortal coil. Easily his best since ’78.
4.
The Pilgrims It’s Not Pretty
Roughly a zillion bands have worshipped at the stained altar of the Replacements in the last couple decades, and maybe five of them have even come close to matching the glory of their ragged idols. It’s the contradictory vectors that give most bands (and casual fans) the trouble, because the ‘Mats simultaneously distrusted success even while they held ambitions of immortality. The Pilgrims somewhat miraculously contain that same magic dichotomy.
It’s Not Pretty sounds like it took as long to record as it took the band to run through a first take, and at the same time it sounds like a buncha guys putting it all on the line, reaching for the moon and stars, and taking a shot at greatness. For anyone who still believes in that stuff of old dreams, it’s like getting a hit from a defibrillator.
5.
Needles//Pins 12:34
The brittle concision of
Pink Flag meets the pure pop instincts of
Singles Going Steady, and the fact both of those references come from the top of the class of ’77 is no mistake. These guys tap into a similar redefinition of rock moozik fundamentals as that first wave’s urge to kill the king. There’s no fat here. It’s all been trimmed down to their own singular vision of pop essentials. Vocals bark out hooks while guitars grind out their own, and it all tumbles out in an exuberant rush that’s over before you can settle on the couch.
6.
Nick Waterhouse Time’s All Gone
Unapologetically retro, Nick Waterhouse starts with a foundation of 50s rock ‘n’ roll and rhythm ‘n’ blues, tosses in some soul and a modern eye to cool, and comes up with something that struts more than it rocks. Probably sounds best in a small dingy club rather than a concert hall too. Waterhouse’s reedy vocals and twangy geetar hold their own charm, but it’s the way he uses the horn section to propel the momentum that pushes this album over the top for me.
7.
Devin Romancing
The voice is an acquired taste – a gravelly rasp so cartoonish it could emanate from a muppet – but once it clicks, it sticks. The sound around that voice nestles somewhere between punk and rockabilly, which isn’t exactly a new idea, but it’s all in the delivery. Commitment is the word, and Devin commits to this pose as if he was born a true believer. The cover pic makes me assume it
is all a pose, however – and he seems too ambitious or too smart (or too dumb) to stay in this particular wheelhouse – but for right now right here a song like “I Don’t Think I” is as good as it gets.
8.
Salim Nourallah Hit Parade
There’s really no use fighting that this album will get filed under the power pop category, but there’s much more to it than that modifier suggests. Nourallah knows his way around the Beatles-esque hook, no doubt, but he also knows how to play against that hook with surprising arrangement touches. Opener “38 Rue de Sevigne” starts as a soft ballad, but flashes of electricity playfully interrupt, portending its eventual acceleration. The witty character sketch “Travolta” openly hints at disco during the verses, then gives way to power chords at the chorus. “Goddamn Life” uses a circular guitar riff as both a thematic motif and its melodic hook. Every song holds some kind of subtle invention that rewards repeated listening. And as much as Nourallah is a craftsman of pristine pop, here he’s also surrounded himself with a band that doesn’t mind tracking a little mud on the carpet. The end result is fairly magical: power pop that transcends its own genre.
9.
Archie Powell & the Exports Great Ideas in Action
Sometimes it’s all in the details. Archie Powell may not challenge the poppunkrockwhatever paradigm in any meaningful way, but he does manage to inject these songs with his unerring sense of dynamics. Sometimes, like on “I Need Supervision,” he’ll keep his foot off the gas until the 2nd chorus. Other times, like on “Metronome,” he’ll withhold the climactic hook until the song’s time is ticking down to near zero. And what’s remarkable is how those tiny twists pay off in such big ways, how effectively they sink in after repeated plays. If you wanted, I guess you could argue that it’s a case of craft over art (although I wouldn’t), but it’s doubtful anyone could argue that this is an extremely high level of craft.
10.
Blackfoot Gypsies On The Loose
Don’t look here for anyone re-inventing the wheel. Instead, it’s all about looking at that worn-out old radial and realizing what a miracle of perfection that simple shape represents. This is yet another guitar ‘n’ drums duo, a configuration that has been abused a fair amount since you-know-who (White) and you-know-what (Black), but Blackfoot Gypsies mostly stay away from blooze and instead stick to rollicking party R&B, sounding a whole lot like ’65 Dylan fronting ’65 Stones (although occasionally breaking out the Ronnie Lane “Ooh La La”-style ballad). Yeah, you’ve heard it before, but you’ve also seen the hero’s journey a million times before and yet you’re still gonna line up for that next super hero flick at the multiplex, arncha? Some things are just part of human DNA. Might as well appreciate it when it’s done right.
