I never got around to writing about Pinegrove’s Cardinal, mainly because it came out last February, and I didn’t get into it until months later, while hearing about it roughly around “Best Of The Year So Far” times (mid-June).  But I suppose that’s just the effect this album has had on most of its admirers, since you could probably make a case for Cardinal being the best “grower” album of the year.  I guess that could come from the fact that at first, Pinegrove’s sound seems a little non-descript, as it pulls from a lot of different white people musical references in a way that could be described as Wilco-esque.

But like the best of Wilco (and other alt-country of this ilk), that easy-going shapelessness, sort of starts to become weirdly comforting at a certain point.  And for that reason, this has easily become one of my most listened to albums of 2016.  It’s an album that is just pleasant enough to serve as good background music, but at the same time, the nervous anxiety of Evan Stephens Hall’s lyrics are enough to draw you in if you need some music to lean your head on after a long day.  And even though it’s an album that may take a few listens to truly appreciate, with a 30 minute running time, I’d say Cardinal is a pretty low-risk/high-reward endeavor, so I say check it out why don’t ya?

Favorite Tracks: “Old Friends”, “Then Again”, “Size Of The Moon”

That’s right, it’s that time of year again. The time of year where I (and hopefully Sean and John) dump any thoughts they had about albums we never got around to writing about in to posts that will probably be of questionable quality, while our annual top tens wait just beyond the horizon. There’s no doubting that 2016 was a crap year, while it’s harder to say whether it was a not-so-crap year for music. Though it’s starting to feel like it was, as I begin whittling down my top ten and it looks like there was a lot of good stuff that probably won’t squeeze their way onto my list, but I guess that’s another upside of these yearly round-up reviews – to talk about good stuff that we might not get another chance to talk about.

I guess the biggest reason I never got to writing about Beach Slang’s sophomore album – which I would certainly put in the category of “good stuff” – is that I kind of feel like I already wrote about this album around this time last year.  You see, this is one of those classic “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” follow-ups that often come from rock bands who come storming out of the gate with a fantastic debut like Beach Slang’s The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us.  In addition to also being a heart-on-your-sleeve mouthful of an album title, A Loud Bash Of Teenage Feelings retains all of the shaggy-dog bluster and youthful abandon of the band’s 2015 debut. And in the process, it sees the band combining piercing guitar riffs with mantras like “I can’t love you raw enough” and “I’m hardly ever right, but I’ve never been wrong”, while ever-deepening the band’s underdog worldview.

And I guess that’s why I’m ok with Beach Slang kind of doing the same thing on this quickie follow-up.  It doesn’t necessarily feel like they’re repeating themselves, because despite their scrappiness, this band’s ambitions seems bigger than just one song or one album. That was pretty apparent when I saw Beach Slang live earlier this year, at their Seattle gig that happened just after the band came mighty close to breaking up just one show prior. But thank goodness, they’ve soldiered on. Because a band like this has to soldier on, and keep reminding their small but devoted following of the almighty power and redemption that lies in sweet, beautiful rock and roll.

Favorite Tracks: “Spin The Dial”, “Hot Tramps”, “Punks In A Disco Bar”

(note: At first, I accidentally wrote in “Hot Trumps” as one of my favorite tracks, because fuck 2016)

Speaking of the late ’00s/early ’10s era of indie rock that marked my college years, Bon Iver was a pretty inseparable product of that era, and for that reason I wasn’t sure whether I should care about a new Bon Iver record.  I guess it has to do with the fact that you could say Bon Iver was a pretty pivotal artist in the wimpification of indie rock that was no doubt started with Arcade Fire’s Funeral over a decade ago.  But, at this point, that seems kind of irrelevant, because what the hell even is indie rock right now?  It’s hard to say, but what isn’t terribly hard to say is that whether you like it or not, this a fairly bold and offbeat record that some people seem to like, and some people think is just too weird.  And I can see why this is, though the more I listen to it, the more I’ve found that beneath its weirdness, 22, A Million has all the warmth and sensitivity that made white people fall in love with Bon Iver in the first place.

I could tell immediately that this was going to be a fairly experimental record, since on first listen, my reaction to 22, A Million was, “Yeah… I’m not really hearing any songs here”.  Meaning there didn’t appear to be much rhyme or reason to the mix of electronic percussion, manipulated vocals, and intermittent use of more of traditional instrumentation that permeates the record.  And I have to think on some level, that was Justin Vernon (aka Mr. Bon Iver)’s intention.  He appears to be a guy who’s uncomfortable with the level of fame and attention he’s gotten since Bon Iver’s 2011 album, and looking at the album’s nonsensical track-listing, there was an intentional bucking of expectations going on here that made it feel like he was just screwing with people.

Or maybe 22, A Million was Vernon’s way of weeding out the phonies in his audience.  Because Bon Iver does strike me as the kind of artist that your typical (I hate to use the phrase) hipster music fan is into, whether they actually like Bon Iver, or just feel obligated to say they like Bon Iver.  On that level, I think Vernon has succeeded in creating an album that will test people’s patience, but will reward those that are patient enough to stick with it, and see that there’s a weird beauty to this album.  I know I’ve talked about it before that music listeners nowadays seem less likely to really sit down and spend time with a challenging album, and this album’s embrace of that I’d say is more than welcome.  Which in the end has made it feel like quite the opposite of the “fuck you” it initially felt like.

Favorite Tracks: You know, the ones with the weird symbols in them.

At this particular point in time, it’s getting very hard for me to think about anything other than the election we’re currently sitting on the precipice of, and the possible terrible ramifications we could be looking at.  I mean, sure there was that Cubs World Series victory that just happened, which was nice and all, but doesn’t it on some level feel like an inevitable sign of the apocalypse?  I know, that’s being a bit over-dramatic. Since clearly it was just a nice thing that happened to a long-suffering baseball team that by no other reason than bad luck had to wait 108 years to see their bad luck dissipate amongst the drunken roars of Chicagoans the world over.  Either way, it seems secondary to whatever the hell will happen on Tuesday, and in a way most of what has happened in this unrelentingly long year (pop culture included) seems secondary to whatever fate awaits us on Tuesday (trust me, this’ll become an album review eventually).

So hopefully, very hopefully, on Wednesday, we can finally begin to look back on this year with some sense of normalcy, and see that yeah, there was some horrible crap to come out of 2016, but maybe we can look towards the future with some sense of hope.  I guess I’m talking about the kind of hope we saw back in 2008, on that Wednesday after Obama took the presidency and it seemed like America could truly be a better place (which it kind of technically was, but also not really).  And listening to an album like Hamilton Leithauser’s latest, it’s hard not to be reminded of the early part of the Obama administration, as it marks a collaboration between two artists whose bands were at their peak in the late ’00s/early ’10s, when Obamtimism was at its peak.

I guess another thing that was remarkable about Hamilton Leithauser’s The Walkmen and Rostam Batmanglij’s Vampire Weekend, is they were both the rare indie bands that were able to age gracefully.  Because sure, The Walkmen’s Bows + Arrows and Vampire Weekend’s debut were no doubt ’00s indie classics that reeked of the kind of bratty confidence that could only come from young men in their 20s.  But I think you could make a case that these bands’ “mature” albums — 2010’s Lisbon and 2013’s Modern Vampires of The City — were the best things that they ever put out.

So perhaps it only makes sense that these two New Yorkers would end up collaborating in 2016, freed from the constraints of their respective bands, and record an album that has an heir of maturity and calm, in a year that’s been anything but.  While at the same time, I Had A Dream retains that vocal-straining recklessness that has always made Leithauser such a thrilling singer to listen to, while Rostam adds a sound that has all of the pristine flourishes of a very classic-sounding pop record.  Also, much like any Walkmen record, the album does feature one absolutely perfect single with “A 1000 Times”.  It quickly became one of my favorite tracks of 2016, and I hope when I listen back to it in the future, the song’s doe-eyed romantic optimism will remind me that, hey, 2016 didn’t turn out so bad after all.

Favorite Tracks: “A 1000 Times”, “You Ain’t That Young Kid”, “1959”

Angel Olsen’s Burn Your Fire For No Witness made a bit of a stir when it came out back in 2014, but for whatever reason it never really clicked with me. Which is a bit surprising, since I tend to gravitate towards female singer-songwriters that are able to splatter all their messy emotions all over their songs in a raw and honest way, which Olsen certainly has a knack for doing. Or maybe it just took Olsen making a more “rock” record like My Woman to lure me in, though I’d say the more appealing, poppier songs are just one piece of the puzzle that makes this such an eclectically awesome record with a clearly strong voice at the heart of it.

Though listening back to Burn Your Fire For No Witness, this newest release isn’t really that much different in terms of accessibility. Though I suppose My Woman does have the song “Shut Up Kiss Me”, which is both very catchy, but also captures the kind of messy intensity that most catchy love songs usually fail to capture. This song then leads in to “Give It Up”, another very catchy, pretty rockin’ song that makes you start to think that Angel Olsen might be positioning herself as the next coming of Chrissy Hynde or something.

And then you get into the second half of My Woman, and that’s not quite the case. I’m glad I ended up buying this album on vinyl (purple vinyl no less), since in an interview Olsen said that she intentionally made side A more upbeat, while side B is a little more introverted and reflective. Which may have made me a little hesitant to completely embrace this record at first, but now I find this to be an absolute asset. Because now that the first half of My Woman has lured me in with its summery fervor, it’s getting to be just about time for some wistful reflection as we move deeper into the Fall and Winter months.

Favorite Tracks: “Shut Up Kiss Me”, “Give It Up”, “Sister”

I think at this point I might be the king of the 3 1/2 star Wilco album review.  This can be attributed to the fact that I am a pretty big Wilco fan, even though I realize they’re not really the sexiest band to admit to being a big fan of.  Also, my Wilco fandom has blossomed mostly during the latter years of Wilco’s run as one of the more ubiquitous American indie rock bands.  Which means I still like them enough to write about them, it’s just that the Mildly Pleased era of Wilco hasn’t been the most exciting phase in their career.

That said, it doesn’t mean this hasn’t been a rewarding part of their career for longtime fans of the band. In retrospect, 2011’s The Whole Love I’d say is more of a 4-star album (if that means anything), as it saw the band recapturing the glitchy noodling that marked their best work in the late ’90s/early ’00s, and even last year’s lazily named Star Wars had more than its share of moments, even if it felt sort of half-finished.  Of course, we can see that it was kind of half-finished now that the band has released its follow up Schmilco, which not only might be even more lazily named, but also serves as a nicer, softer counterpoint to Star Wars. And in the process, it creates a pair of albums that both distinctly embody what I referred to in my Star Wars review as “weird Wilco” and “pretty/pleasant Wilco”.

Now, if I’m being honest, I’m usually a bigger fan of the weirder, more rocking Wilco numbers than the “pretty/pleasant” ones, but maybe that’s because a lot of the time there can be such a stark contrast between the two.  Like as much as I’m a fan of The Whole Love, the album does have a kind of weird rhythm to it, since the tracklisting feels like every other song falls into either one or the other of the two categories I’ve been talking about.  And since the weirder songs on that album were also super catchy, the ballads tended to feel like somewhat of a burden. So I do almost appreciate the cohesiveness of an album like Schmilco, where every song fits the kind of laid-back reflectiveness you hope to find in a Wilco ballad.

I’m sure if you’re just a casual Wilco fan (which I assume most people with a passing interest in indie rock are), this album probably sounds like it might be a bit boring if you’re not a Wilco die-hard.  But what do you expect?  At this point, Wilco’s most recent run of albums have been marked by their consistency, now that the band’s current line-up has been rock solid for many years, while Jeff Tweedy has clearly been writing songs for long enough and is a smart enough guy to know where his (and his band’s) strengths lay.  And sure, that consistency may not be terribly sexy, but it should be good enough to keep me listening, and it should be good enough to keep me writing even more 3 1/2 star reviews for years to come.

Favorite Tracks: “If I Ever Was A Child”, “Cry All Day”, “Someone To Lose”