(t5!) My Year In Lists 2012: Songs!

Shortened blurbs means no more differentiating singles from album tracks, mixtape tracks, digital downloads, and remixes. Here's the top 50 songs of 2012!

Between the island groove, the skank piano on the off-beat, and Santigold’s “oh ah oh ah” vocal hook in the chorus “Disparate Youth” is evocative of 311’s “Amber”, which I’m perfectly fine with because amber is at times the color of my energy. Where it differs though is by adding spazzing percussions and jabbing guitar flourishes, “Disparate Youth” suddenly becomes a lot more dynamic. You do a disservice to this if you’re just planning to lounge around and smoke weed while this is playing on your house speakers.

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I feel that Aluna Francis’ voice is too flimsy to compete with some of the personality-filled female R&B vocals that popped up recently. However, when paired with George Reid’s mixture of handclaps, R&B synth comet trails, and the hollow bass drops borrowed from dubstep, it is given a chance to be rambunctious and lively. I would like to imagine that Aluna Francis' pronunciation of “Follow Me” in the chorus is a subtle homage to Nelly Furtado. I’m pining for a duet between the two for 2013.

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On Frank Ocean’s way home, the taxi cab hears his confessions. To be this emotionally barren on a track takes courage. To reveal your sexual preference on a track doubly so. In fact, rather than shying away from the barrage of questions he generated by using the pronoun “him” in this song, he instead laid it all out and performed “Bad Religion” on his first nationally televised performance in Jimmy Fallon. The strings that come in late and Ocean’s stirring, effortless falsetto lift this up into overwhelming highs.

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This melody is plenty manageable enough that any great singer could slay this song. This could’ve produced Adele or Alicia Keys’ wildest moment. But sometimes it’s not about how great you are, but how bad you want it. Jessie Ware is as great a singer as any out there, but she animates “Wildest Moments” by singing it like the core of her happiness, her lifelong companion, depended on it.

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“Why They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garage?” may replace “Monster Mash” and “Werewolf Bar Mitzvah” as my go-to Halloween song. I’ll just blast this heavy on loud speakers, and the low rumbling bass, horror screams, and repetitions of the gruesome title should provide a nice soundtrack for the trick-or-treating neighborhood kids.

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The Raveonettes have been around for eleven years now, and they’ve been above average enough to remain relevant for this long. And eleven years after debut, they may have released their most transcendent song in 2012. “The Enemy”, with its foggy metallic guitars and sweet melody, best encapsulates the inspirited gloominess that the Copenhagen duo has been messing around with their entire career.

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Rap hooks that don’t catch, that’s that shit I don’t like! Anemic beats on hubristic hip-hop, that’s that shit I don’t like! Kick drums that don’t kick, that’s that shit I don’t like! Kill-joys who dismiss repetition as an invalid rhyming tactic, that’s that shit I don’t like! Chief Keef and a world-crushing beat that can shake even the dullest dance floor, that the shit I do like! People who wear shades indoors, that’s that shit I don’t like!

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It can’t be this easy. By simply taking the “running away with me” part in the Temptations’ “Just My Imagination”, looping it forevermore, and layering it among with other vocal bits over a rotund house beat, John Talabot has intricately constructed a wintery dance track that can freeze the hottest beaches in the Meditteranean. Who needs a recording studio?

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If I had a voice as breathtaking as Jessie Ware, I’ll just continually unearth 90s R&B pearls like this Brownstone single that time has forgotten. If Jessie Ware can be as superior in these renditions as she was in “If You Love Me”, then she can easily fill up an entire second album. She can do Kut Klose’s “I Like”, Tatyana Ali’s “Kiss The Sky”, Angela Winbush’s “Treat U Right”.

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I have personally titled this “Marc eats his words”. “Locked Out Of Heaven” certifies that even the most garden-variety of voices gets a personality if it rips the right stuff, this time almost a complete biting of The Police. He even sings the “your sex takes me to paradise” in a voice resembling Sting. I still can’t forgive him for bringing the malevolent “The Lazy Song” into our lives though.

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I’d love to think that whenever I listen to “Destiny” on my headphones, John Talabot and his featured artist, Talabot, is in there somewhere with a blueprint, slowly cultivating a build-up, waiting for the precise millisecond to unleash these layers of amethyst synths, rumbling house beats, and dark-hued Junior Boys-inspired sighs. I talk to them once in a while.

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Everyone can make a scorching, sexy R&B track, but it takes a special artist like Miguel to perfect one. And after listening to “Adorn”, it's so easy that it seems like it doesn’t even take an arm and a leg to construct one. The “Adorn” and “Sexual Healing” comparisons are a little played out, but if you think about it, if it took twenty years for an R&B artist to come along and match the sultriness of Marvin Gaye’s monumental hit, even with all of these pretenders attempting to homage it, then it must warrant its distinction.

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There are two separate parts to Todd Terje’s “Swing Star” but like karmic soulmates, they’re bound to be together forever. “Swing Star pt 1” is a refreshing waterfall of synth arpeggios. It’s also a suited introduction to “Swing Star (pt 2)”, a jaunty disco house dance floor filler, an electronic track that aliens would make after meticulously studying 70s disco for several years.

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Let’s just concede that Beyoncé is the better sibling, even though shadow lurking, younger sister Solange is steady as she goes here. Thankfully “Losing You” is a can’t-miss trans-global pop hit that any Knowles can’t mess up, whether it would be Solange, Beyoncé, Nixon, Tina, Mathew, or Blue Ivy who handles it. Queen Bey could’ve made this a number one hit though.

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Renamed as “If You’re Never Gonna Move” for the LP release because 110% is impossible. By definition, 100% is the most anyone can give. But a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, especially if sung by Jessie Ware. In “110%”, her tranquil vocals are exquisitely contrasted by post-chillstep cackling drum beats and synthetic bottle blowing. This chick can sing on top of anything.

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Novices see the word “remix” and they think that it’s as basic as speeding up the track and adding an EDM beat. CFCF’s remix of Elite Gymnastics “Here, In Heaven 2” is so much more than that. He strengthens the Southern rap beat and added piano adornments and incising strings, resulting into an interpretation that swirls regally in your brain for eight blissful minutes.

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Once in a while, a song is released and there’s something about it that sounds familiar but you can’t put a finger on what it is. When we hear it, it’s as if we’ve known it forever. There’s a sense that Chromatics’ “Cherry” has always existed. Maybe it’s just the simplicity of the bassline, an arrangement of notes that I almost guarantee to have been done before. Nevertheless, no matter how unoriginal it may seem, it still buries into your brain and fucks around with your memory.

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I lauded the fact that Beach House became accessible by lessening the haze and learning how to write an infectious melody. But as heard in “Myth”, they have been able to also imagine instrumental hooks that remain with you even when you dream at night. “What comes after this momentary bliss?” How else can they improve upon this? By adding a 2 Chainz guest verse?

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TNGHT, the Hudson Mohawke and Lunice team-up, hates bullshit as much as they hate vowels. “Higher Ground” is a straightforward banger. Cut-up vocal phrases, greasy trap music beat, elephantine horns resembling the hook line from Busta Rhymes’ "Tear Da Roof Off"—all thrown together gracelessly, like concocting the tastiest protein shake by using a cement mixer.

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Chris Brown almost ruined “Clique” for me, but there’s no denying its catchiness and danceability. Ain’t nobody fucking with Big Sean, getting on base so that rap’s Ruth and Gehrig can drive him in for a run. Ain’t nobody fresher than Jay-Z when he is emboldened by a championship-level beat he can ride smoothly on. As I look around, they don’t do it like Kanye, who sounds like he’s sitting comfortably on the throne.

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Malaysian singer Yuna’s original version of “Lullabies” is beautiful in its weightlessness, but Jim-E Stack tethered it down so that it doesn’t float away into the abyss. The New Orleans DJ administered a proper structure to Yuna’s empyrean vocals by simplifying the chord progression and adding a tickling synth vibraphone and insouciant reggaeton groove.

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“Fuckin’ Problems” is rap’s tomorrow. Torches snatched rather than torches passed. A$AP Rocky could’ve asked for the services of Lil’ Wayne, Rick Ross, or Jay-Z, but those are entities that are on the back nine of their careers. A$AP Rocky, Drake, Kendrick Lamar, 2 Chainz are rap’s most skillful ascending stars, and they will posse cut on this sinister 40 beat to grandstand their arrival.

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Chromatics’ “Back From The Grave” is a ravishing sounding track, all effervescent bass, sparkling synths, and guitar crashes, an opaque dream world seducing the listeners to sleep forever. The sonic mournfulness can become a little thick. But then Ruth Radalet’s drowsy, barely processed vocals become a guiding light, taking your hand and shaking you out of your insentience.

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It’s interesting that the most harrowing song of the year is advocated by a familiar Eminem beat. Once upon a time, I used to listen to Marshall Mathers’ intense disclosures and feel the pain with every rhyming couplet. Angel Haze hasn’t reached Eminem’s prowess just yet, but she recounts her tragedy with the same devastatingly detailed storytelling.

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It’s a little uncomfortable to know that the woman singing so provocatively in “Demonstrate” and the thirteen-year old sitting in the high school bathroom floor in 2004’s “Get Out (Leave)” video is the same person. But after hearing Jojo pleading for a chance to demonstrate the freaky shit running on her mind, there’s no doubt that Jojo is all grown up now, and she’s turning out to be one of the most skilled R&B singers around.

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This may have been just a song from a viral video, but a great song is a great song regardless of where it came from. What I love about this is that these could’ve easily been instructed to rap about snapbacks and tattoos, and they would’ve sounded like they’re hopelessly pretending to be mini versions of the Maybach Music Group. Instead they rapped what they know, and you can feel the unabashed glee they were feeling while they declared love for their favorite snacks.

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It was disappointing that Diddy’s Dirty Money can only hold it down for one album since it was clear that the duo were talented enough to become an iconic R&B group. On the bright side of things, because Dawn Richard and Kalenna Harper split up, we now have two admirable futuristic soul singers releasing interstellar outputs. “Intro (Call To Hearts)” is probably not the best showcase of Dawn Richard’s powerful vocals, since she’s confined to uttering a few abbreviated phrases in it. The frenetic production is so imperative though, and served as a powerful intro track to her top-notch EP, Armor On.

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When Jessie Ware showed up as the frontwoman for British post-house and dubstep producers some time ago, she was assumed as a discounted substitute for Adele. Now that she’s a household name (among certain houses), it’s certain that between the two singers, she may be the best option. As heard in “Running”, they’re on par in terms of skill but she’s clearly more sensual. Her voice steams here like mulled wine, smoldering on top of subdued beats and flirtatious guitar licks.

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I fell in love with this song thinking that the vaporous bedroom vocals moving gently above the tranquil chamber pop arrangement. It turns out that Mike Milosh, the singer half of the Los Angeles duo, sings like a lady. Not that finding this out affects my enjoyment of the song—“The Fall” has the ability to tranquilize even the most hyperactive person on Red Bull—but it is a little surprising. It’s like the music fandom version of The Crying Game.

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Conscious rap can sound condescending at times, no matter how sincere. You may never know with “Swimming Pools (Drank)” though, Kendrick Lamar’s public service announcement against alcoholism. Because of its “drank” call-and-response and Kendrick’s angel-on-a-shoulder second verse, it’s so anthemic that you’re having way too much fun singing along to notice that it’s being contemplative.

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Thanks to the tremendous SNL performance, and in part to Justin Bieber’s cover, “Thinking Bout You” is the reason why Frank Ocean is a household name. But this sweaty-palmed love poem to the ones who got away, this impressive display of Frank Ocean’s heartbreaking falsetto, is just the tip of the iceberg. What a sublimely gorgeous and insanely addictive tip though!

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I don’t do drugs. I don’t drink much. I’m all set in the love department. I’m not planning to skydive or bungee jump anytime soon. Listening to music is one of the only forms of thrill I seek, I guess, and Miguel is one of my most reliable dealers. I imagine that the angular guitars and the syncopated staccato harmonies in “The Thrill” shivers my spine the same way a base jump from the Kuala Lumpur Tower would. But I’ll never know, I’m afraid of heights.

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I usually hate these newcomer rappers whining about staying authentic in the face of fame. But what separates Kendrick Lamar’s “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe” to, say, B.O.B.’s “Airplanes” is that Kendrick Lamar has skills to spare and B.O.B. does not. But more than that, the dreamy soundscape of “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe” gives the track an ATLiens feel. Pair that with Kendrick’s style that has garnered Andre 3000 comparisons and “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe” becomes a psychedelic trip to memory lane.

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Back in the day, a fledgling R&B artist like Tinashe would need a high-priced producer, a guest verse from an established rapper, a feature in a magazine, a music video, and consistent airplay on the radio to blow up. Now all that is necessary is to hi-jack “Love” by Daughter, sing one's saccharine melody on it, and release “Another Me” in this universe of interconnected computer network they call the Internets.

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Either Jai Paul has unparalleled restraint or he’s only inspired to write a song as often as the Olympics. Two years have passed since this UK singer-songwriter released his debut track, and it’s well worth the wait. Whoever “Jasmine” is, she better be as sexy as this track, with its locomotive percussions, oscillating guitars, and silky smooth falsetto. If Jai Paul keeps up this pace, he’ll have a first-rate album twenty years from now.

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You would think with all this technology readily available that there’s no room in music for a lo-fi sound. Well, you are wrong, stupid! There are still bands like Best Coast who are up all night recording their music on cassettes. Sure, “Up All Night” would sound just as soul stirring without all of that reverb, but it would ruin all of the 60s surf rock girl group aesthetic they’re striving to homage.

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“Starships” and “Pound The Alarm”, NIcki Minaj’s pop detour were overplayed so much that it’s easily forgotten that she has the ability to shit on your whole life as a rapper. You don’t realize how much swagger and attitude it takes to own the greatest hip-hop beat of 2012—all icicle pops and synthetic growls—until someone else raps over it and ruins it all. 2 Chainz is great for several bars, but then he realizes that he’s too heavy-footed for it, and quickly steps off.

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Kanye West has conquered so many aspects of rap, but he hasn’t flipped the posse cut script quite like he did in “Mercy”. Not to slight everyone else in here, because everyone is enormous, especially Big Sean, who must have sold his soul to the devil to come up with a verse like this. But Kanye’s the main event. He decides to switch the beat when it’s his turn on the mic, because he can, and he goes about his business with the focus of a mad genius.

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Sky Ferreira has been on the edge of a breakthrough for so long now, and after listening “Everything Is Embarrassing”, it is hard to comprehend why she remains fairly anonymous until now. Sky’s voice is like a cold beer after a long week. The backing track consisting of synth pads and arena rock drums are like the server who doesn’t mess up your order and doesn’t try to start a conversation with you about something inconsequential like she gives a fuck.

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The xx’s 2012 second album, Coexist, was just average, but I wanted it to be so much more mainly for two reasons: one, their self-titled debut was one of the best albums of the last five years; and two, “Angels”, the single deployed to generate buzz for Coexist, is phenomenal. The subtlety of the timpani and cymbals, the ringing of the guitars, and the emotional coos of female lead Romy Madley Croft sounded like they picked up exactly where they left off. Too bad the sophomore slump got to them.

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I didn’t know that a female Busta Rhymes is something that I would be longing for in 2012, but here’s Angel Haze, motherfucking faster than a cheetah in the jungle, and what a delight she is to have in my musical listening life. In “Werkin’ Girls”, her nimble tongue is in full effect, spitting pleasurable similes like they’re morning phlegm. Props to the ambrosially minimal beat for keeping up.

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By now, everyone and their mothers are familiar with everything that made Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe” monumental—the high-spirited strings, the playful second melody near the end, the effortlessness of it all. No offense to “Gangnam Style” and its billion YouTube hits, but the song that will be remembered the most from 2012 is this single. The biggest compliment I can give this track is that no matter how overplayed it was, I was never sick of it.

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“Give In (For The Fame)” is delicate chaos. Considering all of the stuff that Canadian electronic producer Kuhrye-oo threw in this track—echoing glitchy R&B samples, a limber bassline, ricocheting snares, various synth ripples, alarm horns, dial tones—you would think that “Give In (For The Fame)” would be a complete mess. Yet somehow this tune belongs in a music box. Kuhrye-oo has an adept sense of layering and understanding when to swell and when to pull back.

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Introspective, subtle, and deep electronica is great and all, but sometimes it’s just nice to hear music designed to make you dance. Unfortunately, whether it be the EDM type or the Grammy dubstep, the dance music that we hear often these days are mostly sandpaper to the ears. Todd Terje’s “Inspector Norse” is wonderfully vivid and bubbly. Before you listen to this, you better make sure you have enough energy in the tank for seven frolicking minutes.

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I don’t know if it’s the baby in the music video, the fact that they’re singing about mothers, the realization that adorable lead singer Lauren Mayberry looks and sounds like she’s twelve, the endearingly clumsy way they play the synth pads, or the fact that they can’t even spell their own name right; “The Mother We Share” sounds like innocence in aural form, and by math’s transitive properties, this single automatically sounds like bliss.

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When male R&B singers try to sex up their tracks, they are almost always predatory, which is why the passive portrayal of sexuality in the verses of “Use Me” is so appealing. At first, Miguel tries to bring sexy back from a position of vulnerability, singing lines like “my pride is waving a white flag” while the expansive drums and guitars-on-parallel pummel him into submission. In the chorus however, he gives you a taste from both perspectives, switching it up from victim to aggressor, confirming that both sides of the bed can be just as effective at bringing you to ecstasy.

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“Arch & Point” is basically an instructional manual for the doggystyle position, but it also proves that the line that separates sexy and sleazy is rubbed out when the delivery is spot on and the messenger is full of confidence. With its panting power chords, moaning guitar licks, and rock ambitions, listeners also get a chance to hear Miguel explore sonic sectors that very few contemporary R&B artists dare to go.

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Kendrick Lamar is not just a rapper with deep thoughts. “Backseat Freestyle” shows that he can just revel in a good moment. In this track, he plants himself in the backseat of his car, forgets his m.A.A.d. city problems for five minutes, and yells out frivolous lines like “I wish my dick is as big as the Eiffel tower so I can fuck the world for 72 hours”, the most quotable rhyme couplet of 2012.

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Music sabermetricians, not so long ago, have figured out that the ideal length for a pop song is two minutes and 42 seconds. Frank Ocean’s “Pyramids” is three-and-a-half times more than that. I hate when things are described as ‘epic’ and I’m all for efficiency in anything that I do, but sometimes a song just needs to expand itself to accommodate for all the sonic deviations, lyrical allusions, and all of the details of the story of the Pyramid’s saddest employee, Cleopatra. And yes, “Pyramids” is a little under ten minutes long, but Frank Ocean performed and structured it in a way that it never feels daunting while you’re immersed in it. Time goes by when listening to something perfect.

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Usher is a future first-ballot Hall-of-Famer. You won’t find many people that couldn’t name several Usher songs that they’d bounce for (top 5, not including this: “Yeah”, “Confessions Part II”, “Love In This Club”, “Nice & Slow”, “U Don’t Have To Call”). Having said that, he’s been in a total rut as of late, mainly because he’s convinced (probably by David Guetta) that what sells in today’s pop music market are songs with EDM in the background. That's why lately, we have an Usher who isn’t pushing himself sonically, contempt with being in the same level as Will.I.Am, Pitbull, and disposable R&B singer x. Everytime I hear “Scream”, “Dirty Dancer”, or “Without You” on the radio, I shed a tear for him because there are lesser talents who deserves to sing these songs.

Aaah…EDM. That’s “Electronic Dance Music” to you, person who likes his acronyms unacronymed. It has truly become the official pop music structure of the Tens so far, infiltrating not only the Top 40 but also TV commercials, movie soundtracks, and viral videos. EDM annoys the living daylights and nightlights out of me. It scares me that I praised the fusion of electronica and R&B once upon a time, basked at the refreshingness of hits like Ne-Yo’s “Closer”, Chris Brown’s “Forever”, and Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance” as recently as five years ago. I’ve also congratulated Britney and Katy B the last couple of years for introducing dubstep to the mainstream; now, I vomit every time I hear a Skrillex drop. Is there a new genre innovation I’m praising today that I’ll eventually hate in the near future? I hope not.

One genre that never gets old though is an old-fashioned, ultra-sappy mid-tempo slow jams, the kind that Usher used to murder on a regular basis in the late nineties and early zeroes. "Climax" belongs in this category, and it's pretty much like riding a bicycle. I don’t know what pushed Usher back into the style that made him famous; I would like to assume that Usher got wind of the influx of all the blogworthy R&B artists (listed above), and “Climax” is Usher’s way of reminding his denigrators that he still has a fifth gear he can go to when needed. It’s also a reminder that drugged-out, midnight-synth-filled R&B, as great as it is when Drake or The Weeknd is at the helm, is that much more magnificent when there’s a technically proficient singer on the vocal track. Here’s hoping that “Climax” is the wake up call that his discography desperately needs. Seriously, stop hanging out with David Guetta, Usher.

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Here is a link to my top 200, with Youtube, Spotify, and Rdio links:
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0AloloizM8us8dHRTU2xLeGdyV3VXTTI4RW5lYlJsWHc#gid=0