A Listful of Mahlers
Unlike the last two decades, I didn’t compose a yearly musical top ten list prior to the conclusion of 2022. As of now, I’m uninterested in counting how many new releases I heard, but my guess is it topped five hundred, easy. A shortlist of roughly two dozen was kept throughout the year to whittle down during 2023’s first couple weeks, partially due to observing continuity compliance and partially because ten song cycles required addition to the lifelong Must re-listen pile.
As for the cheeky Sergio Leone-meets-Gustav title, I like to believe that any synoptic musical grouping contains surprises worthy of both Ennio Morricone’s playfulness (witness Adrianne Lenker blurting out “That’s my grandma!” on one track from the year’s finest long-player) and bits of Mahler’s magnum opuses (okay, maybe nothing below ignites visions of Bernstein conducting No. 3, but hearing lyrics like those to follow reminded me why I continue to love hip-hop when it rises to the level of a headphone symphony: “Early African or European, which was more supreme / The visions vary, this shit get scary, inform your team / My dignitary consigliere is more of a dean / My skin tone is aubergine, I'm a war machine”).
Here is where I would provide a link to a playlist chronicling 2022’s aural fixations. Unfortunately, I do not make playlists; I make list lists. Voila.
2022
Big Thief, Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You (4AD)
“When I say celestial
I mean extra-terrestrial
I mean accepting the alien you've rejected in your own heart
When I say heart, I mean finish
The last one there is a potato knish
Baking too long in the sun of spud infinity”
Croatian Amor, Remember Rainbow Bridge (Posh Isolation)
The creator says it’s about liminal spaces. I say it’s premium (instrumental) background music, a genre I value dearly, especially as a soundtrack to work calls while riding a hilly wave of silence-chatter-silence-chatter.
Danger Mouse & Black Thought, Cheat Codes (BMG)
Rugged and raw like EPMD. My pal Geoff insists Black Thought’s one of hip-hop’s three or four finest lyricists ever; all evidence here says he’s onto something. Never envisioned hearing a forty-nine-year-old emcee release a single album bounty this rich. Beats by slay.
Fresh Pepper, s/t (Telephone Explosion)
Smooth jazz with a culinary theme: “New Ways of Chopping Onions,” “Prep Cook in the Weeds,” and “Congee Around Me” are funny enough titles but wait until you give your lobes some licks. I’m sorry. Dan Bejar sings on one song, a welcome cameo from a guy who released a rare dud last year. You will not forget the album cover.
The Mountain Goats, Bleed Out (Merge)
John Darnielle used to post on ILM, the one message board I’ve never stopped visiting in the last twenty-five years, and his love of Steely Dan and death metal has fascinated me since I learned of it firsthand. What Dan fan wouldn’t be drawn to a man as lyrically gifted as Becker/Fagen? As long as I’ve wanted to fall in love with a full album by his band, it never happened until this one whose lyrics drew inspiration from action movies. Set the mood, J.D.:
“Floor the pedal at the green light
Watch the traffic all drift right
Barrel forward unimpeded
Switch lanes as needed
Be flexible, be unreplaceable
In a world of heavy footprints
Be untraceable”
Angel Olsen, Big Time (Jagjaguwar)
Loved her previous album a bit more, but these country-centric esoteric rafter reachers linger just as much. Hate to see a potential major artist steal her album name from a Tom Waits live collection, yet its pure, straight-faced retro songs could soundtrack a double homicide or a prom slow dance or both (“Oh, you mean a David Lynch scene?”).
Beth Orton, Weather Alive (Partisan)
Have been hip to her since she featured on the Chemical Brothers’ brilliant “Where Do I Begin,” which later was implemented perfectly in Vanilla Sky, a movie where we’re supposed to accept that my ex-wife, Penelope Crooth, enjoys the company of Tom Cruise’s disfigured face. Lost myself there. Much like Darnielle, this is the album that finally sold me as Orton’s high watermark, a loose, leisurely paced atmosphere-laden chunk that forces you to immediately join in. I’m listenin’.
Real Lies, Lad Ash (Unreal)
House money says each
Year’s best house LP earns my
annual acclaim.
You’re right: House is not a poem.
Amanda Shires, Take It Like a Man (ATO)
Despite being a Drive-By Truckers loyalist, I’ve long believed the Jason Isbell era sits between the band’s high points. This album by Isbell’s wife tops any solo work by the man. So, is this a Fuck Jason Isbell placement or a glowing recommendation for the year’s most memorable southern fried alt-folk-pop? Ms. Shires will take both. (Penning music criticism terrifies me.)
Tears for Fears, The Tipping Point (Concord)
This year’s legacy entry is a grower and a rich addition to a faultless, if slim, discography. Seems that the giants of ‘80s synthpop/rock all matured enough that the ‘20s may yield ample masterpieces further disproving any people who foolishly persist in dismissing melancholic British keyboard-driven alchemy.