#brianmcbrearty

JAMES BRUBAKER 1. Sun Kil Moon, Benji

Mark Kozelek: suck my cock. Stupid, trollish click-baiting aside, Sun Kil Moon’s Benji is the masterful, confessional folk album music fans didn’t realize they were waiting for. Every second of Kozelek’s autobiographical opus is dripping with pathos and a surprising (especially for Koz) empathy for his fellow humans. This is the rare album that feels bigger than music—this is art, undeniable, raw, and full of life.

2. Grouper, Ruins

Liz Harris is on quite a run as Grouper. Still, as much as I adore her previous output, there’s something extra haunting, and especially gorgeous about the stripped-down, ambient-ish piano jams that make up Ruins.

3. How To Dress Well, “What Is This Heart?”

Here, Tom Krell moves his How To Dress Well project closer to pop music’s naked simplicity while interrogating the basic tropes on which the genre is built. These are gloriously uncomfortable and exposed blasts of pop emotion that dig beneath the genre’s usual surface-level sheen to get at the emotions always lurking beneath.

4. Ariel Pink, Pom Pom

What the fuck, right? Since Before Today, his masterful break into mainstream indie, Ariel Pink has been on a mission to combine that album’s hazy, AM-Gold vibe with his earlier ultra-outsider home recordings. As irritating as Pink’s media shtick has become, the infectious weirdness and maniacal glee of Pom Pom is hard to deny.

5. Todd Terje, It’s Album Time

One of the quieter gems of the year, Terje’s slick, electronic dance music is designed to get stuck in our rhythm bones and make us bounce along in cars.

6. The War on Drugs, Lost in the Dream

War on Drugs: don’t suck a cock, unless you want to, and then, you know, do whatever you want to do that makes you happy. Lost in the Dream could be labeled Dad-Rock, but if that’s what it is, it’s doing it in a way that makes Wilco’s last few album’s sound like Lame-Great-Uncle Rock. These songs are hypnotic and lovely, easy to get lost in and hard to shake. This is, hands down, one of the best guitar rock albums in years.

7. Run the Jewels, Run the Jewels 2

Even better than Run the Jewels’s first album, this collaboration between El-P and Killer Mike is an exceptional blending of old and new, resulting in a confrontational, at times difficult album. But don’t let that scare you away, because as hard as this album feels, these hooks and beats get under the skin and don’t let go.

8. FKA Twigs, LP1

Fuck to this album, please. I haven’t, and don’t know that I ever will. Just, please: put this record on, sit down with your partner and have yourselves a nice old time. If anyone releases a sexier album this decade, it’ll probably be illegal.

9. Perfect Pussy, Say Yes to Love

Say Yes To Love is a perfect blast of riotous punk energy. Meredith Graves’s vocals scrap and scrape to be heard over the band’s volatile blend of crunchy guitar riffs and phat punk beats. This album reminds me a lot of what it felt like to go to basement shows back in the late nineties, but it never feels like a throwback. These are passionate kids making bigger-than-fuck punk anthems.

10. Flying Lotus, You’re Dead

The ten spot was a tough fight on this list. There were a ton of great albums this year, and I had to ultimately give the nod to FlyLo, if for no other reason that You’re Dead is his most dizzying and ambitious album yet. It might also represent FlyLo’s biggest success in terms of blending wild jazz with trippy electro-inflected hip hop beats to dazzling effect. 

  MATTHEW AUSTIN (in no particular order)

  His Name is Alive, Tecuciztecatl

Warn Defever has dabbled in folk, pop, goth, chamber music, noise, jazz, and countless other genres, but this latest full length is a homage to the wah-drenched psychedelic rock operas of the '60s. There's a storyline that connects this song cycle, but the star is Defever's uncharacteristically unhinged guitar playing. 

Horse Lords, Hidden Cities

Bass, drums, guitar, and saxophone grind against each other in intricate, sprawling compositions that occasionally lock together in ferocious ways. 

Mogwai, Rave Tapes

The Scottish band's been a well oiled machine for years, and at this point they're like a painter entering their mature period: they've mastered the tools and techniques, now they're seeing all the different combinations they can create. 

DMX Krew, 100 Tears

Catchy without being sacchrine, Ed Upton has been perfecting his synth & drum machine melange for years, with his latest offering nods to 80s pop, the queasy tones of vaporwave, and videogame music, all in easily digestible 3-4 minute songs. 

Winged Victory for the Sullen, Atomos

Despite its origin as a modern dance score, Atomos works great on its own as a haunting ambient record that manages to sound fast paced. 

Aphex Twin, Syro

It's not surprising that an artist obsessed with recording gear made a record that sounds like his studio made the songs by itself. Not a knock on the result, but it underlines how Richard D. James imbues his equipment with an organic touch that few can replicate. 

Blonde Redhead, Barragan

While the trio haven't exactly been pushing boundaries in the last ten years like they did in the first half of their career, each new album is a return to comfortable mix of gauzy vocals, tasteful harmonies, and just enough rhythmic push to keep it out of easy listening territory. 

Tobacco, Ultima II Massage

Though definitely front-loaded, the latest gooey neon assault from Tobacco dives further into his homemade sound, coming off like a mad scientist with no clear influence. 

Wye Oak, Shriek

While St Vincent collected accolades on her 2014 record, it shares DNA with the similar, but superior, new album of electronic textures and passionate vocals by the duo previously known for powerful guitar rock. Abandoning guitars is a bold move that proves their skills in songwriting remain intact while using different tools. 

Terence Hannum, Via Negativa

As part of Locrian, Hannum helps create walls of brutal noise that takes cues from black metal and power electronics; his 2014 solo album is a collection of drones that, while sometimes barely being present, evoke a dire, doom filled world. 

  JEFF BOYLE (in no particular order)

  Untold, Black Light Spiral

Hobbesian techno. Nasty. Brutish.

Neneh Cherry, Blank Project

Pop music of a sort. Meandering, thoughtful, mature, intriguing.

Kim Hiorthøy, Dogs

A factoring of his previous work down to its constituent parts: mostly piano and drum machine. Liminal, almost forgettable.

Andy Stott, Faith in Strangers

Sludgy, muddy. Dance music for swamp monsters.

Actress, Ghettoville

Sad beats from far away fighting thru a bowl of oatmeal.

Kelly Hogan, I Like to Keep Myself in Pain

One of my favorite voices singing songs written just for her. Lovely.

Jenny Hval & Susanna, Meshes of Voice

Probably the record that knocked me on my ass hardest this year. Angels in a screaming match.

Selvhenter, Motions of Large Bodies

Stompy, noisy, rock-ish improv by Danish women.

Richard Dawson, Nothing Important

Like Daniel Higgs without the overwrought mysticism. Like getting punched in the chest while crying.

Laura Cannell, Quick Sparrows Over the Black Earth

Overbowed violin re-imagining ancient ballads! Improvised recorder self-duets—Roland Kirk style!

Zamilska, Untune

Urgent, violent techno with an ear toward tribalism. Exciting.

UNTUNE by Zamilska

  BRIAN MCBREARTY (in no particular order)

  The War on Drugs, Lost in the Dream

I know I said I was not ordering my picks, but this album is my personal favorite release of 2014.  No more ranking, I promise.   I listened to this album twice a day for the first two months following its release in March.  I still listen to it at least once a week.  Outstanding.

Eno/Hyde, High Life

Dense, textured and layered jams along with some of Eno’s finest vocal work in years.  The climax of the song “Lilac” is one of the best musical moments of this year. 

Strand of Oaks, Heal

This album starts out with a guest guitar solo by J. Mascis and only improves from there.

Kadavar, Live in Antwerp

I consider myself a connoisseur of hard rock live albums and this set from the German power trio, Kadavar, does not disappoint.

Chris Forsyth & The Solar Motel Band, Intensity Ghost

Television without all of those annoying vocals. Haha. Just kidding, guys. I dig Tom Verlane. This album rips.

Steve Gunn, Way Out Weather

This album is a master class in simplicity. Straightforward recording techniques applied to clean, uncrowded song arrangements yield amazing results on this slab. Vibe for daaays!

Meatbodies, Meatbodies

Riff-drenched, fuzzed-out (and drugged-out) bliss. This album is relentless in the best possible way.

Sharon Van Etten, Are We There

The vocal melodies on this album are so good.

William Tyler, Lost Colony

It’s an EP, not an album. Deal with it! I could listen to the thirteen minute opener, “Whole New Dude,” on repeat for the rest of time.

Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell, Check ‘Em Before You Wreck ‘Em

I hate it when hard rock bands feel the need to demonstrate their range. I don’t care. Show me that you can rock, and then do it again, and again. The Shove get it right and deliver rocker after rocker on this album. Just watch this video and try to contain yourself.

Rog & Pip, Our Revolution

A reissue/unearthing of material recorded by two members of The Sorrows. Rocking and sometimes heavy, but still accessible (even, poppy at times). You will like this.   

  BRIAN FLOTA 1. Grouper, Ruins

This group of desolate, haunting, spare piano-based songs make this Grouper’s best effort to date, and one of the most nakedly emotional and understated albums I’ve ever heard.

2. Ariel Pink, Pom Pom

Love him or hate him, Ariel Pink has created a warped AM radio-friendly masterpiece with this album. The stretch of the album from “Nude Beach a Go-Go” to “Jell-o” might be one of the strangest stretches of pop music ever included on an album.

3. Todd Terje, It’s Album Time

Todd Terje’s witty, sophisticated nu-disco album is loaded with infectious hooks."

4. Morgan Murphy, Irish Goodbye

Deadpan comic Morgan Murphy’s slightly warped blend of observational humor, subtle feminism, and one-liners will have you laughing over and over. Sample joke: “Abortions are not for everybody. They’re like children that way.”

5. St. Vincent, St. Vincent

St. Vincent’s self-titled album presents her music at its most sleek and state-of-the-art.

6. Mastodon, Once More 'Round the Sun

Though far from the heights of Leviathan and Blood Mountain, Mastodon's latest lacks a dull cut and synthesizes their earlier, more challenging style with their more recent stabs at the mainstream.

7. Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Soused

This unlikely pairing stretches both acts beyond their comfort zone, resulting in some of the darkest, most theatrical music of the year.

8. Freddie Gibbs & Madlib, Piñata

Gibbs, a gangsta rapper and mixtape legend, is paired with underground producer Madlib, maximizing the talents of both collaborators in the process.

9. Perfect Pussy, Say Yes to Love

Good old fashioned punk rock with a heavy dose of riot grrrl thrown in for good measure. One of the most confrontational recordings of the year.

10. Arca, Xen

Solid ambient music for pitch-black gothic dance clubs.

  KEVIN O’ROURKE

(in no particular order)

  Death From Above 1979, The Physical World

A few months ago I had a Twitter conversation with a friend who noted that DFA 1979’s 2004 album You’re a Woman, I’m a Machine “holds way, way up.” I suspect this one will too. At a tight 35 minutes, this album is pure speed rock.

Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra, Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light on Everything

Over the years, Efrim Menuck’s whine of a voice has grown more tolerable, and Thee Silver’s songwriting tighter. You know how every Godspeed! You Black Emperor song has its best loudest part, after they’ve gotten the quiet dithering over with this? That’s basically this album, plus affecting Canadian commune-rock vocals and a wall of sound that’s so big it seems to possess a life of its own.

Run the Jewels, Run the Jewels 2

In addition to having an entertaining Twitter presence, El-P continues to prove that he is one of the most important producers/rappers working right now. He and Killer Mike’s DIY Run the Jewels project—which has relied on (initially) free releases and social media word of mouth—may be the most vibrant thing El-P has done since Company Flow. Killer Mike’s lyrics absolutely seethe, and this album’s beats are, to paraphrase Phife Dawg, harder than two-day-old shit. An essential record.

Real Estate, Atlas

Atlas is a little sadder and more morose than Real Estate’s previous outing, 2011’s Days, but that’s not a knock against this record. Atlas is a tremendous piece of guitar pop. See James Brubaker’s review for more.

Sun Kil Moon, Benji

2014 was a mixed bag for Mark Kozelek. His release of Benji—which gets my vote for the best record put out this year, and which is a stunning example of radically honest, open confession folk rock—was overshadowed by that whole “the War on Drugs can suck my cock” imbroglio.

Ignoring Kozelek’s egocentric insanity for a moment, Benji remains a highlight in his already packed discography of highlights. For more, see below for Sun Kil Moon’s live performance of “Richard Ramirez Died Today of Natural Causes.” It’s fitting to close this post on a song that uses the death of the serial killer Richard Ramirez as the launching point for a musing on mortality. To wit:

Black Sabbath formed in Birmingham, England in 1968. The group’s first five albums are bona fide, first ballot hard rock masterpieces; Black Sabbath are often described as pioneers of the heavy metal genre. Certainly, Black Sabbath eventually became a heavy metal band, especially after Ronnie James Dio took over vocal duties at the dawn of the 1980s. The music produced by the original Black Sabbath lineup—vocalist Ozzy Osbourne, guitarist Tony Iommi, bassist Geezer Butler and drummer Bill Ward—was firmly rooted in the blues, however; a quality lacking in the majority of heavy metal by the mid 1980s.

  Nevertheless, Sabbath’s impact on heavy music is undeniable. The group single-handedly spawned the doom and stoner rock subgenres. Iommi’s use of detuned guitars, not to mention his distinctive riff composition and chord progressions, remain a staple of hard rock and heavy music. Even Sabbath’s album art is iconic. In other words, Black Sabbath occupies that rarefied strata shared only by other elder statesmen of rock, such as Led Zeppelin (also from Birmingham, by the way) and The Rolling Stones. Sabbath is one of the few hard rock/heavy metal bands to achieve lasting notoriety, and wield influence, beyond the confines of its genre. Sabbath songs play at the end of Disney movies.

  The world is a beautiful, perplexing place.

  It is also perplexing that Technical Ecstasy, Black Sabbath’s seventh studio album released in September 1976, is not held in the same esteem as earlier albums in the group’s catalog. Okay, maybe it is not that perplexing. I am going to be straight with you: Technical Ecstasy is a tad light on the riffs. This is the album’s downfall, but only in comparison to the embarrassment of riffs levied throughout Sabbath’s earlier records. Technical Ecstasy also contains two ballads, one of which, “She’s Gone,” may be the worst song of the first decade of Sabbath’s career. This will be the last we shall speak of the ballad “She’s Gone.”

Despite these deficiencies, Technical Ecstasy remains a thoroughly worthwhile album. For God’s sake, it features a song called “Rock and Roll Doctor.” ROCK AND ROLL DOCTOR!!  I read Tony Iommi’s autobiography, Iron Man: My Journey through Hell and Heaven with Black Sabbath, to confirm my suspicion that this song is about the band’s cocaine supplier, but to no avail: Iommi remained tight lipped. The mystery continues, and Robert Stack will not return my calls. Perhaps as an attempt to compensate for the lack of riffs, Iommi essentially guitar solos his way through Technical Ecstasy. What is a guitar solo, if nothing but a ton of sweet riffs played in quick succession and with an expression of constipation? I think Thoreau wrote that while hanging out in the woods. Anyway, this tactic more than works for me, but in case there are any readers out there doubting whether this constitutes a sound road to rock fulfillment, I have spent the majority of The Hairsplitter’s holiday party budget to hire an expert mathematician to validate my theory. With math. Here is what $175 paid to Craigslist Will Hunting buys you:

Guitar solos and a song penned in tribute to a drug dealer are just a few of Technical Ecstasy’s many pleasures. Everything that Sabbath had perfected over the course of its prior albums is on display here. Sweet guitar riffs (when available). Epic double-tracked guitar solos. Virtuosic bass playing. Gypsy-phobic lyrics. You name it; Sabbath’s got it on Technical Ecstasy.

  Technical Ecstasy also introduces some new elements to the group’s sonic palette. First and foremost, many songs feature keyboards courtesy of Gerald Woodroffe. It is therefore with deep sorrow that I raise the Keyboard Threat Level to YELLOW. Be careful out there, gang. Truthfully, the keyboards are not obtrusive and often add some nice textural elements to the album’s compositions. Although he does not receive any writing credits, Woodroffe was a sounding board for Iommi’s song ideas during the writing sessions for Technical Ecstasy, and it is clear that the duo worked well together.

  The B section of the album’s opener, “Back Street Kids,” is a good example of the interplay between Iommi’s guitar work and Woodroffe’s keyboards.  “Back Street Kids” opens with a classic Sabbath motif: a galloping one note riff punctuated by a move to a higher chord. No keyboards in sight. This is heavy. The move to the song’s B section utilizes another time-tested Sabbath device: a minor key A section that transitions to a major key B section. Once the B section begins, you can practically feel an epic major pentatonic guitar solo waiting in the wings. But before we get there, Woodroffe’s soaring keyboard line adds some welcome textural variety after the chugging A section. And we do get that guitar solo, at 2:42. It’s short, but melodic and powerful; everything you would expect from Iommi’s guitar playing. Woodroffe also adds nice support during the guitar solo, playing a gradually ascending line throughout.

  On Technical Ecstasy, Iommi is in full control of Sabbath’s music. The band’s troubles, both internal and external, during the writing and recording of the album are well documented. Fresh off of lawsuits with prior management and with a new manager more interested in hanging out with Jeff Lynne, Black Sabbath was essentially on its own at this time. Add Osbourne’s increasing drug and alcohol problems, and Ward and Butler’s interest in sunning themselves on the beaches of Miami, where the album was recorded, and all that was left was Iommi. And this is no more apparent than on the second track, “You Won’t Change Me,” which features two blistering, healthily portioned guitar solos from Iommi. Iommi puts on a master in class in using a song’s already-established momentum to launch into guitar pyrotechnics and does what few players can do: maintains and then adds to the momentum. This is essential listening.

Although Black Sabbath is known for its contributions to heavy music, most of the group’s classic albums contained at least one tune that expanded the group’s sound into territories beyond heavy music. On Paranoid, for example, there was the druggy, jazz meanderings of “Planet Caravan.”  On Vol. 4, “Changes” paired Ozzy’s melancholic vocals with piano and beautiful Mellotron strings. Technical Ecstasy’s third track, “It’s Alright,” continues this tradition. Vocal duties are ably handled by drummer Bill Ward for the first time on a Sabbath record for this piano-driven, pop tune. This song makes me wish Bill Ward had recorded a solo album after exiting Black Sabbath in 1980. Seriously, The Axel Rose Bandana of Approval speaks for itself. 

  The next two tracks on Technical Ecstasy achieve a rare and magical feat in hard rock. Specifically, “Gypsy” ends with a guitar solo, and the following track, “All Moving Parts (Stand Still),” begins with a guitar solo. I refer to this as The Omega/Alpha Maneuver. I was streaming this album during my daily commute when I first recognized this particular Omega/Alpha Maneuver. It was like Christmas morning, just with more guitar face. My initial euphoria subsided, however, when I realized these tracks are situated in the middle of the album. Sure enough, when I arrived home and checked my vinyl copy of Technical Ecstasy I saw that “Gypsy” closes the A side and “All Moving Parts (Stand Still)” opens the B side. With a heavy heart, I had to revoke Technical Ecstasy’sOmega/Alpha Maneuver status as it was clear there was no original intent to rock the listener with back-to-back wailing guitars. There are no half measures when it comes to the Omega/Alpha Maneuver.

  The album closes with the fantastic “Dirty Women.” Geezer Butler supposedly wrote the lyrics after spending a night driving around Miami ogling prostitutes. The Geez. Never know what he is gonna do next. Musically, “Dirty Women” may be the strongest song on Technical Ecstasy. The first half of the song is crowded, consisting of various sections strung together. This is 70s Sabbath at its proggiest. All of these sections lead to a chorus that contains what may be the heaviest Sabbath riff ever. It is classic Iommi: sliding power chords and syncopated rhythms.  Butler and Ward do their part as well. I am a firm believer that “heaviness” has little to do with tone and much more to do with songwriting and arrangement. This section of “Dirty Women” is an excellent example. Ward’s drumming is simple and wide open, allowing Iommi and Butler to dig in deep and fill the pockets of space. Iommi could have played this riff on a ukulele and it still would make you want to turn your jean jacket into a sleeveless jean jacket.  Ozzy shines in this portion of the tune as well. As he sings “Oh dirty women, they don’t mess around” it sounds like he is gargling whiskey simultaneously. Maybe he was.

  “Dirty Women” closes with a vamp of descending chords over which Iommi solos for nearly three minutes. It’s a great solo that reaches wah-filled heights reminiscent of Eric Clapton’s work on Cream’s “White Room.” I also think it is the only guitar solo I have heard in which the drummer double times the beat, double times the double time, and then halves the beat twice to return to the original meter. This is a band at the peak of its powers, if only for this three-minute slice of guitar wizardry.

  Technical Ecstasy may not be of the same caliber as Black Sabbath’s first five albums, but there is little separating it from those classic records. The Rock and Roll Doctor is in, and his name is Iommi. He’s got a prescription for what ails you. Chart a course to the sovereign nation of The Riff and play epic air guitar solos. Doctor’s orders! Thanks, Sabbath, for caring about my level of rock intake. And for the guitar solos! Thanks for all of the guitar solos.       

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