Since his days as an assistant engineer, 88-Keys has produced records for numerous artists including Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Kid Cudi, Macy Gray, Musiq Soulchild, Dejuan Lucian and Consequence. Recently, 88-Keys extended beyond his production credits to highlight his skills on the mic as MC, singer and collaborator, most notably on his solo debut album The Death of Adam released on November 11, 2008. Executively produced by 88-Keys's close friend Kanye West, the concept album tells the story of a man named Adam who has been murdered in a loft apartment in Harlem. In August 2008 a fifteen-track mixtape titled Adam's Case Files was released as a prequel to The Death of Adam.
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As I mentioned way back at the top, this album was the noteworthy exception to the rule this year — while there was a seemingly inexhaustable list of things to be angry about, almost no one except these guys manifested it musically and tackled those topics head-on. Mike and El proved they were up to the task for everyone, though, dropping all the dick jokes and jocular asides scattered across their previous outings for an unflinching, unapologetic assault on everything from racism and slavery to resistance and religion here.
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Oh ha — just had a little too much merlot and getting sleepy, eh? Well that’s ok, a good wine nap on the weekend is ALWAYS enjoyable.
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All of this has added up to a tremendously trying year and as a result the overwhelming instinct this year has been to find solace and comfort, refuge and respite. With rare exception, almost everything that captivated my ears this year seemed oriented towards the creation and protection of those things.
From the rapid fire drum roll on the opening title track, you’re off on a breathless, joyous sprint for the next 40 minutes. The songs are chameleonic, shifting grooves and melodies two to three times a piece, giving things a fever dream sense of intensity and color. Your temperature fluctuates as frequently as the tempo, oscillating between hot heaters, cooooooooool waaaaaaaaater, and “ooh that’s nice” spaces in between. It’s one of the many regrets this year not getting to see these guys perform this album live — in my head it would be the most frantic, festive variety show you could conjure. Tracks like “Hot Heater,” “Down in the Dumps,” the aforementioned “Drums” and “NY Inn” would all sizzle, while songs like “Reflection” and the swooning gem “Hot Like Jungle” would give you a second to catch your breath and bliss out. Hands down the most reliable good time of the year, this one’s meant to be consumed in its entirety — over and over again.
Sort of like Daniel Johnston — I like some of the other covers folks have done, but I’ve never been blown away listening to him on his own. Maybe this is the same type of deal. Your version is just so stately and pretty compared to the original, and I loved the harmonies you worked in there — I feel like it really makes the song shine.
And man, was this ever those things. The sound, reminiscent of faves like Jesus & Mary Chain and the Velvets before them.
Some of them might end up meriting fuller engagement here on the site, others will just be random passing thoughts or jams to get (or keep) the day going. We’ll experiment with other material on there in the coming months — she’s got a very expansive campaign in mind — but for now figure a few songs should keep things going in between posts. So check it out and see what you think — in the meantime, stay safe, stay sane, and stay separate.
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Doves — The Universal Want / Bright Eyes — Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was: this slot’s for a pair of improbable reunions from bands I’ve really enjoyed over the years, but who’d been in hibernation for a good chunk of time, seemingly gone for good. Thankfully they’ve returned, both with lavish, kitchen-sink style albums that add layers to their signature sounds. Doves add the least flourishes between the two, but have been away the longest so get to go first.
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They’re a really special band, one that forges a connection far stronger than simple explanation (or most other acts) and that’s likely why I found myself thinking about them so much last weekend, logical or not. I was thinking about two of my favorite shows — one under the shady canopy of trees back home at Lollapalooza, standing ten feet from the band with 100 other people, wondering if they felt as lucky as I did (and if the other people walking by knew what they were missing). The other turned out to be the last time I saw them, on the anniversary tour for the aforementioned Organ Fight. The room was maybe a little more crowded than at that first show ten years prior, jovially packed into my favorite club in town, with folks exuberantly singing along to each of the album’s tracks.
Guided by Voices — Surrender Your Poppy Field / Mirrored Aztec / Styles We Paid For: in a year where there was so much upheaval, so many confusing experiences and terrible firsts, it was nice to have at least one reliable thing to count on, something as steadfast and unrelenting as the virus’ case count and death toll — only positive! That comes to us from our old friend Dr Bob, who may not be able do anything to cure us of the disease, but CAN do a lot to improve our pandemic playtime. That’s because — yet again — the beloved band of Ohioans are back with another album — THREE of them. Which would sound impressive or improbable if they didn’t do the exact same thing LAST year! THAT trio of albums landed at #5 on the year-end list and while they’re down a couple spots this year that doesn’t mean the quality has diminished at all — it’s mostly due to the exceptionally strong stuff sitting at the top, which invariably is going to crowd solid outings like this down a touch.
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The film does a nice job telling the history of both MacGowan’s life and the band itself, going from a kid on a farm with no amenities to the rock and roll life of indulgence he ultimately enjoyed once the Pogues became stars. It’s an interesting story — IRA relatives, the quest to “save” Irish music, and the one-of-a-kind MacGowan himself, part charmer, part joker — but it’s also a heartbreaking one. The toll of the aforementioned excess — the drink, to an extent, but primarily the drugs (namely heroin) that came later — has had a devastating impact as you see in the documentary.
Hitting with the proverbial power of said locomotive comes the final member of this slot, British punk band Idles. Here for the first time with their third album, Ultra Mono, this was one of the rare releases to address the endless outrages swirling around us this year, from racial injustice to gentrification, gropey guys, and more. You can argue with the lyrical effectiveness of the attacks, which alternate between nonsensical word collages and simple sloganeering (and whether this is deliberately done tongue in cheek as suggested in songs like “Mr Motivator” and “The Lover” or inadvertently remains at best unclear if not wholly beside the point). What you cannot deny, though, is the power and catchiness of the songs, which have always been the band’s strong suit.
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Thank you to all of our 10K+ followers on Instagram! If you haven’t already, please take a moment to follow us on all of our social channels! Keep The Fire Burning (Club Mix) – Ben Rainey, Michael Walls / Which Bottle?
Anyway — it’s good to see you again. I lost the bead on you guys for a while, but really liked your debut (“In Our Talons” is still an outstanding song, btw) and was glad to hear you were coming back with new stuff.
Cut Worms — Nobody Lives Here Anymore / Andy Shauf — Neon Skyline: this slot’s for a couple first-timers that I discovered thanks to Spotify’s spot-on suggestion algorithm, which was on a tear earlier this year. Thanks to the lockdown keeping us stuck in place, the need to get away was a growing concern as time (but not much else) oozed onward. Some turned to travel shows on Netflix, some wandered down memory lane looking at old photos, while I found myself time traveling to earlier eras musically to stave off the stasis. One of the more frequent vectors for that was Cut Worms, a discovery from the first month of the pandemic.
In honor of Terry we’ll put it in reverse and go forwards to backwards, chronologically speaking, diving ever deeper into the annals of Sunshine lore with an increasingly excellent soundtrack to accompany us. First up, then, is the recent 15-year anniversary of the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s second album, Show Your Bones. Released three years after their classic debut, Fever to Tell, the trio reportedly struggled mightily trying to decide what direction they wanted to go in for their follow-up, recording and scrapping several albums’ worth of material (and nearly breaking up) before settling on what became Bones.
For their part of the equation, MMJ decided to mine their archives and put out an album of previously recorded material rather than hit us with some new songs. It’s not a traditional outtakes set, filled with one off demos or rarities scattered from throughout their career, but rather an entire album they decided not to put out until now. Originally recorded as part of the 2021 Waterfall sessions, the band initially debated releasing the material all at once, but for whatever reason balked. Thankfully they finally decided to share the other half of those sessions and the fully restored duo work nicely when played back to back.
Over the course of that semester everyone in class got to know the album’s songs, whether they wanted to or not — Mike loved “Vietnow” and “Tire Me,” particularly its Jackie O line at the end, and would play them back to back over the outcries of even the most soft-spoken nerds after a while. I was drawn to the lurching “Snakecharmer” and “Down Rodeo,” which pulled at me like a riptide.
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The article does a good job walking through both the music and the surrounding context — always a knotty affair with Mr West — and speaks nicely about the album’s importance (particularly in light of the subsequent decline). It was an absolute beast, landing at #4 on my 2021 list, and it’s held up well in the intervening years. As I wrote then, “In other hands such a variety of thoughts and styles could come off as cluttered, cloying, or catastrophic — every song has numerous guest stars, from rappers, to pop stars, to comedians, spoken word rebels, and indie boner-inducers like Bon Iver. Each song could have failed multiple times over their 5-9 minute lengths from all the dissonant styles packed in, let alone the album as a whole. And yet with Kanye they are a delight — a flawed, over-reaching affair at times, but one that’s quickly and consistently redeemed.
Denial had “Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales,” Fantasy had “Bodys,” and this one has “Deadlines (Hostile),” a song I must’ve listened to about a hundred times this year and yet never failed to have me shouting along at the end. Another solid outing from Will the Wunderkind.
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Tre Burt — Caught it From the Rye / Gerry Cinnamon — The Bonny: this slot’s for a couple of harmonica-wielding first timers, one a soothing folkster from Sacramento, the other a full throated belter from the highlands. Starting with the former, I discovered Burt this summer and have enjoyed his brisk 30 minute debut a lot in the intervening months. His voice bears the wear and tear of your old man’s winter coat, scuffed up but still warm and comfortable, and his melodies stick with you once the songs have faded.
Next comes this writeup on the 20 year anniversary of the New Pornographers’ classic debut, Mass Romantic. The article does a fantastic job trying to capture the utter joy and revelation that this album was. For me it’s always been the epitome of delirium, the equivalent of that unwieldy shot of adrenaline from Pulp Fiction, only being driven straight into your brain this time. It’s that instantaneous, that irresistible — the second you hear some of the songs, you bolt upright gasping like Uma off the floor.
Ableton has released Live 11 Lite today, and it’s available for free to all Live Lite owners. The upgrade offers an array of new features and updates to to the DAW to round out quite the capabilities it offers for music producers.
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Next comes another eclectic set of sounds on the double album drop from the mysterious Sault, which aside from impressive variety gives one of the most arresting, uncomfortable listens of the year. Released within three months of each other, these three dozen songs pack in everything from disco and R&B to drumlines, afropop, and soul. And while the influences may shift, the focus is firm — this is an unapologetic, brutally honest reflection of the Black experience in America today.
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The ‘Gram is structured to be more eclectic and esoteric, this site more deep and deliberative. That said, there’s plenty of overlap between the two — both are built around discovery, whether of the old (‘the Gram) or the new (the blog) — so the goal is to ideally have folks spend time with both.
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Excited to hear what else is on the album. I’m not gonna lie, I watched the video and got worried for a second that something was wrong with my eyes. I don’t know if you heard me talking to Mr Gonzalez, but I’m running on like NO sleep right now. Thought I was starting to hallucinate when I couldn’t make out your faces.
I used to listen to this album religiously back in college, driving around with the songs blaring from my windows, singing like I was trying to be heard from space (which is where I’m sure most of the pedestrians I passed wished they were to be out of range of all the noise). I just didn’t care — the songs were (are) so good, you couldn’t be unhappy when listening to them and didn’t feel like hiding it (or trying). The band has never come close to recapturing the pure joy of this album and I’ve subsequently lost the bead on them as an act, but I’ll always have this to go back to and revel in, daring the neighbors to call the cops.
Alright seriously, there is NOTHING WRONG with cargo shorts, guys. Did you see Gallo walking around in those bright white overalls? Maybe go give him a little sh#$ since you’ve got so much to spare.
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That’s it for now, my friends — hang in there, we’re maybe getting to the end of this thing. In the meantime, stay safe, stay sane, and stay separate.
I woke up that morning with one of their songs in my head — again, nothing odd here (the line from “Poke” was rolling around — “it’s got lots to do with magnets and the pull of the moon”) — but over the course of the day I kept thinking about the band. Old shows I’d been to, the odd pride I felt when they played the big room on the tour for their last album, having spent years enjoying them in the smaller, more intimate venues. Mostly it was a sense of melancholy, though, and thoughts about what could have been.
I don’t know, you’d have to ask them — maybe they’re busy! Anyway, I think it’s important and don’t let any band onto the list, so just wanted to give you a compliment.
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I feel like I missed a global edict and we extended the calendar for some antiquated reason based on farming schedules like daylight savings. And are we sure there are only seven days in a week right now?
Muzz — Muzz: this was one of the year’s most unexpected surprises, a return of components from some of my favorite bands, specifically Interpol’s frontman Paul Banks and the Walkmen’s former drummer Matt Barrick, here with indie hopscotcher Josh Kaufman. Together the trio delivered one of the year’s best debuts, an endlessly engaging album that exemplifies easygoing.
In essence, the intended divide between the two revolves around three things — length, frequency, and focus. The ‘Gram, with its character-limits and more perishable nature, is meant to be more quick-hit glimpses of the unhinged fever dream that is my brain.
Visiting castles (twice), spinning yarns about Shakers, bikers, Jesus, and Beelzebub, celebrating historic tits (not what you think) and outstanding coffee, or simpler things like his favorite watering hole or his musical neighbors. Merritt’s limitless imagination and wicked sense of humor are both on display, presenting some of the best material since the band’s unparalleled classic, 69 Love Songs. The highlights are almost too numerous to recount — “The Day the Politicians Died,” “When She Plays the Toy Piano,” “(I Want to Join a) Biker Gang,” “Let’s Get Drunk Again (And Get Divorced), “I Wish I Were a Prostitute Again,” “The Best Cup of Coffee in Tennessee,” “My Stupid Boyfriend” (which is laugh out loud funny). They all shine, full of Merritt’s characteristic heart, humor, or wonderful melodies — a great return to form.
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Nathaniel Rateliff — And It’s Still Alright: released before the world shutdown, this was the first album I knew would be showing up at year’s end and was the front runner for a long time. Coming out waaaaay back in February, this marks a return to pre-Night Sweats Nathaniel — softer and more introspective, working on his wounds with his acoustic guitar in hand — but with a few more flourishes this time around. The substance is still the same — the tried-and-true stalwarts of love and loss — but what’s new is what surrounds them: sweeping orchestral sections, forlorn horns, and the occasional choir. It all adds up to a grander affair than before, while still representing the most naked, heartfelt album of the year.
We’ll jump genres one more time and head over to the third perpetually disappointing modern genre, rap. All three of the genres represented thus far are years past their golden age (country’s I’d argue was the late 60s/early 70s, electro the late 90s/early 00s, and rap ruled the late 80s and most of the 90s), but none might be more disappointing to me than rap. What used to sport some of the most relentlessly creative artists and lyricists has now devolved into a monolithic mush of materialistic lyrics and weak beats. As always, there are exceptions, but they’re further and further from the rule these days and even they increasingly fall victim to the rampant shoddiness.
This one sports a murderer’s row of hard-hitting highlights — from the opening one-two of “Yankee and the Brave” and “Ooh La La” to “Holy Calamafuck,” “Ju$t,” and “The Ground Below,” Mike and El are unsparing, endlessly pummeling you with their verses and their thundering beats. There’s no skimping on the side dishes, either, with some top shelf talent helping them out — from DJ Premier and Pharrell to Zach de la Rocha, Josh Homme, and Mavis Staples, among others. It all adds up to an unrelenting tour de force, one built around the hammer blow centerpiece that is “Walking in the Snow,” which addresses the aforementioned Floyd murder with undeniable power. Another outstanding outing from one of modern rap’s few bright spots.
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Up third comes the latest from Woods whose last album, Strange to Explain, landed at #13 on last year’s best of list. Apparently others agreed, as the band is releasing an expanded, deluxe edition of the album next month. It will sport several new tracks (and at least one alternate version of an existing track) so will definitely be worth a listen. In the meantime enjoy the first of those new songs, “Waiting Around for a New Me,” which is a perfect sonic complement to the tracks already on the album.
Jemini The Gifted One's debut EP, Scars and Pain, "merely serves as an appetizer for his upcoming album, most likely due to drop sometime next year. Straight out of East New York, Jemini is a lyrical king of complexity, utilizing words, lines and phrases to their fullest potential. He notes Rakim and Melle Mel as influences due to their ability to paint pictures in your mind so that you can see what they're talking about the first time you hear them. The 25-year old follows in his idols' footsteps in doing so. "You leave [interpretation] up to the listener. All you can try to do is write good songs," says Jemini. And good songs are definitely what he writes. Productionwise, the seven-track EP and the upcoming album are the products of a diverse production team led by the likes of Prince Paul, Organized Konfusion and the Fat Man. Despite the diversity behind the boards, each track has a similar design: hard drums complemented by horn, piano and voice samples. The first single, "Brooklyn Kids," chronicles Bucktown street life in the '80s, with plenty of guns, shanks and jacking-people-for-their-gear to go around.
Guitarist Billy Zoom’s riffs remain pristine, rattled off with the effortless flair of someone who’s been at it for close to 40 years, and DJ Bonebrake’s drums haven’t lost any of their pop. Songs like “Water & Wine,” “Strange Life,” “Goodbye Year, Goodbye,” or the pair of old tunes finally properly recorded (“Delta 88 Nightmare” and “Cyrano De Berger’s Back”) all smoke. This one’s every bit as good as the band’s early classics.
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As long timers you likely know one of my favorite annual traditions around this time, aside from thinking back on the year that was and assembling my essential soundtrack, is rifling through other people’s year end lists to see what I might have missed. There’s always a treasure or two that surfaces and this year is no different. So in honor of the impending sportsball showcase and the year these originated in (so nice they named it twice), here’s some highlights from the annual hunt.
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What holds it all together is what started it in the first place — that voice. That unbelievable, unparalleled voice. Case (find more information) sounds amazing on this album, balancing the mystery of those images with the unquestionable emotion she packs into her performance.
Thankfully there’s no concessions or worries necessary this time around — it’s just an album of some beautiful songs. Recorded before his previous one, Morby decided to sit on the songs until the time was right — which turned out to be the world slowing down and his moving back to Kansas with Ms Katie in tow. Similar to her latest, that comfort and warmth permeates almost everything it touches here — songs like the title track, “Valley,” “Campfire,” and “Provisions” positively radiate with them, while “Don’t Underestimate Midwest American Sun” is an absolute gem and one of the best things he has written.
Oberst recruited some ringers to record with — Chili Peppers bassist Flea and Queens thunder god Jon Theodore on drums, pairings almost as unexpected as the reunion itself, but like every other embellishment here they’re not overpowering or out of place. And there were a lot of the latter — bagpipes, orchestras, a full choir — but somehow they only add to the richness of the songs. Tracks like “Dance and Sing,” “Calais to Dover,” “Comet Song,” and the trio of singles — “Mariana Trench,” “Persona Non Grata,” and “Forced Convalescence” all shine as a result. Similar to their slotmates, we might not have needed these albums, but damn if I’m not glad they arrived anyway.
After his death his family turned these words into the mission statement for a foundation focused on mental health for young folks and people regularly post pictures of stickers with the phrase/Scott’s face on Instagram, doing their small part to beautify places around the world. It’s a lovely tribute for someone who struggled so openly and honestly with this issue — and yet still seemed so determined to get past it and move on.
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I got asked one of my favorite music-related questions this week at work, one we’ve debated many times over beers at the bar (back when that was a thing) — if you could see one band (or artist) back in their prime, who would it be? When we’ve discussed this in years past, folks will name some obvious ones (Elvis, the Beatles) and some slightly less obvious (Marvin Gaye, Bob Marley, Sly and the Family Stone). The answer I gave this week is the one I usually give, I’ve got to break it down by decade to even begin to answer — for the 60s I went with the Beatles, the Doors, and CCR, for the 70s I did Zeppelin, for the 80s I did the Smiths and the Clash.
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Did the theme song for that show Ed, too — remember that one, with the bowling alley lawyer! I loved that show — pretty weird, but sweet. The early aughts were a strange time — we thought the clocks on our computers were going to shut society down for months when they flipped to 00!
I LOVE your stuff, it’s so pretty and relaxing. Your first two albums are absolute favorites of mine. You know that guy whose song you covered, “Teardrop,” is here?