The perception of an artist’s’ prolonged excellence can often thank gradually reduced expectations for that longevity; same applies for Animal Collective. After the underwhelming but still compelling Centipede HZ. and the largely uninteresting Painting With, this year’s EPs have seemed like a resurgence – even if they’re not. Continue reading
There have been many months of music, film and anything else noted and not uploaded here. But when you unload those thoughts and experiences, surely best to start from the present rather than the past? Here are a selection of albums that caught the ear – or, more often in the process of discovery, the eye – over the past month or so.
2//I, Daniel Blake
6//Hunt for the Wilderpeople
7//Under the Shadow
11//Hell or High Water
12//Captain America: Civil War
13//A Monster Calls
15//10 Cloverfield Lane
Look past the losses of 2016 and what you’re left with is an otherwise stellar year for music. It speaks volumes, however, that so many of the year’s finest albums predicate on darker themes. But across albums that tackle topics as diverse as racism, sexism, age, death, tragedy, loneliness, what proves profoundly striking is the shared sense of fire, grit and perseverance that resonates through each. It has been a year in which so much of our music has dealt with despair and yet managed to deal out hope. Acceptance is perhaps the other big theme; self-acceptance, mainly. Whether it’s Angel Olsen’s defiant Woman, Chance’s celebratory Blessings, Bowie’s terminally beguiling Lazarus, or Solange’s soul-searching Cranes in the Sky. The mutual catharsis of this year’s best music seems to have given artists an urgency and vitality, a striking sense of relevance, that has allowed 2016 to become a year of music in which a Kanye West release can seem like only an afterthought.
For an album whose mode is most often melancholic, Michael Kiwanuka’s Love and Hate translates into a surprisingly energetic, even joyous live experience. These aren’t radical reconstructions of the album’s original tracks, but they are injected with a vitality and momentum that unearths the latent funk buried in the album’s slow-build introspection. Continue reading
Nick Cave is often at his most pretentious, and his most farcically overblown, when he indulges his demonic preacher alter-ego. As his croon has deepened and mellowed in his later years, he has developed a voice that is almost excessively rich in drama. His lyrics, which already walk a fine line between the poetic and the ponderously cliché, can seem exaggerated into melodramatic farce.
This, however, is a rare record where Cave truly sounds sincere. I have no doubt that his previous works have been performed with unshakeable sincerity and conviction – his passion and presence is undeniable – but here it for once sounds less like an act, a character, a stylisation. It is almost painfully real. Continue reading
Quieter, moodier, and more spacious than Passenger’s music of migration, At Swim marks a sea change for Hannigan. A decisive move away from her folk based roots into less easily-definable territory, At Swim is an album that shifts its sounds from song-to-song. Her more traditional songcraft, and with it some of her knack for narrative, fades from the foreground here, resulting in a work that is more abstract, more downbeat and more unpredictable. Continue reading