(t5!) My Year In Lists 2006: Albums! 5 to 1
Ys resides in a faraway place, completely remote from any conventional conceptualization. Joanna Newsom’s stories are abstract and demands further inquisition; but once unraveled, the allegories and cryptic fables reveal her innermost experiences and tragedies. Her voice, though less childlike than before, is still eccentric and frail, but its fragility is affecting. Lush orchestral strings and oboes decorate Newsom’s intricate harp rhythms; the arrangement is archaic, yet timeless. Four of the five tracks linger for ten minutes or beyond, but it’s impossible to convey these epics in fewer words. These are so much more than songs, they’re mystifying poetry. They’re excessively inaccessible, yet a necessary experience. [Emily | Sawdust & Diamonds | Cosmia]
To say that Nick Diamonds and his Islands are merely picking up where his old band, The Unicorns, left off is superficial. The undemanding tenor vocals and the playfulness of the melody survived the divorce, but Diamonds was generally responsible for those anyway. Now defunct are the superfluous idiosyncrasies that The Unicorns experimented with and a more cohesive sound ensues. Diamond’s new band is now more organic, more mature, less audacious, and less capricious. The songwriting is more legible now that there are no bells and whistles to distract and it accumulates more appreciation now that it stands alone. But, a comparison is unnecessary, The Unicorns are extinct, Islands are forever (or so they say).
[Don’t Call Me Whitney, Bobby | When There’s A Will There’s A Whalebone | Volcanoes]
“Tiny Dancer” and Biggie’s “Juicy”; Missy Elliott’s “On And On” with Phil Collins’ “Another Day In Paradise”; Annie’s “Heartbeat” with “My Humps”. Instantly recognizable when they stand alone, but these are tracks that are unaffiliated musically otherwise. Rockists have questioned the talent in simply mashing tidbits of top 40 tracks together; but, they never imagined that an “amateur” skill can potentially amass an output like this. Every sample is arranged seamlessly, every mix runs like clockwork; the transitions never sound forced or malapropos. It’s the greatest party record of the year and there’s not enough pretension that can deny that. Just because it’s from a laptop doesn’t mean it can’t be enjoyed.
[Hold Up | Minute By Minute | Double Pump]
Citrus is one of these very rare circumstances when there exists a perfect harmony between the album cover and the music. Outside, the radiant album art features vocalist Yuki Chikudate, defying gravity, centered amidst a flash of bright red, bathing in a neon glow of orange, and illustrating flawlessly the album’s overall sound. Inside, Yuki’s angelic falsetto sings a melody suffused with sweetness and effervescence, surrounded by a very loud yet very brilliant shower of guitar reverb. But no matter how brazen the encircling cloud of noise can be, Yuki never allows it to overwhelm her. There’s a balance between her ethereal tone and the instrumental intensity, resulting into a attractive offering that few can top.
[New Years | Red Sea | Goodbye]
Even after being ditched by an accomplice, Jeremy Greenspan rebounds gracefully. Rather than turning his back completely to the agonies of abandonment, he seeks closure instead by recounting his desolation, composing ten tracks that comprise the year’s best. With a newfound independence, Greenspan graciously shifts himself upfront and his vocals, dripping with blue-eyed soul, prospers when given the stage. And it thrives on the production’s spaciousness; the potency of loneliness is interpreted with remarkable accuracy this way. The synths flicker gently to the rhythm, as if they’re colorful neon lights illuminating an unescorted and melancholic Greenspan from all sides. Goodbye has never been said with more elegance.
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