At The Closing Of The Year

Choosing a year-end best of list gets me to pulling out more preciously few hairs in frustrating with every passing year. I look back on the scant number of albums that I bought in 2005 (it had initially been my new year's resolution to buy less music this year, though only for financial reasons, and I certainly seem to have achieved that goal) and I'm rather surprised considering what little funds I had to work with at some of the selections that I chose to make: Remarkably mainstream, very rock-oriented, and extremely influenced by the music of my past. No rap or R&B, no blues or jazz, no country or punk or classical made it onto my list this year, which is astonishing considering that I probably spent more time soaking in those genres this year more than anything else. It's just that Miles Davis, Doc Watson, and De La Soul didn't exactly come out in 2005. And I have admittedly been more song-oriented this year rather than album-oriented since acquiring my iPod last Christmas and I like to keep my jogging mix on shuffle most of the time. Yet looking back on the albums that I bought which actually came out this year I can sort of see a trend, a pattern if you will, as to were my mind was at throughout the past 12 months. On second thought maybe it's not such a good idea to go back and revisit all that. But what they hey...

Since I don't really have a particular order for any of these I'm just gonna list them alphabetically by artist.

Extraordinary Machine, Fiona Apple. Which version? Both, actually. Each has its own equal parts strengths and weaknesses, but I think that just the fact that both productions work so well says a lot about Apple's increasingly maturing skills and the sheer strength of the songs themselves.

Aeriel, Kate Bush. She's in some ways very much an altered woman. And yet every fraction the same. She's awakened from an ageless slumber and strokes her long white Van Winkle beard thoughtfully as she describes to us all the dreams that she had. "Mrs. Bartolozzi" is hands down the most devastatingly heartbreaking song I've heard all year, whether it was intended to be or not. Awfully glad to have you back, KT.

Closing In, Early Man. Something about this album reminds me of a Halloween party that I attended back in 1982. A backyard shed lit with a single red bulb, an enormous bowl of dubiously spiked punch, and a slutty girl in a devil suit giving all the stoner boys lap dances as the radio blasted Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath. Meanwhile I sat perched in a corner by the stereo speakers while my drunken ex-boyfriend tries to grope me awkwardly. Ah, to be 14 again. That's pretty much how this album makes me feel.

Blessed Black Wings, High On Fire. Every time I'm out walking with my iPod and the thundering rumble of that rhythm section rolls over me I feel myself pick my feet up a little higher with each step until the bone-crunching guitar chords strike me across the face, gripping me with an icy hand like a rapist who keeps me from screaming and my feet carry me faster in a vague intangible panic state, running away from or towards my assailant, whichever direction leads to my salvation. And I guess its a damn swell metal album, too.

Frances The Mute, The Mars Volta. Earlier this year I described this album as my lover, but although now we have decided to just remain good friends this disk still knows how to touch me in all the right places to make me quiver. A mixture of 70's Led Zeppelin-era metal and prog rock with synapses of jazz and salsa knits everything together in a structure of perfectly well-mannered chaos. Not to mention nostalgia inducing to the extreme. Put me down for "L'Via L'Viasquez" as song of the year, también.

Arula, M.I.A. It took some time for me to warm up to this disk, and once I did I hardly even registered when the transition took hold. All I ever noticed was that when I put on this CD and I was up and moving about I found I had developed a sort of pogo to my step that made me bounce involuntarily to the amalgam of thumping hard sounds rippling through this disk. A few familiar samples here and there mixed with scattered skits, pulsing beats and earth-deep global rhythms makes one feel as if they are strolling through every urban city in the world simultaneously. And I'm still liking it more and more with each listen.

Pretty In Black, The Raveonettes. Y'all didn't think I'd forget about these guys, did ya? Their first album sounded like The Everly Brothers singing for The Jesus & Mary Chain, and I was all over that baby like, er well, like me on Sune Rose Wagner (and please cut your hair this year, son). And I admit I miss the noise. They dropped the B-flat Dogme restrictions and honed in on their love of 50's and 60's bubblegum pop, bringing their influences even further to the surface. Yes, I was initially disappointed with the tame results. But it's grown on me. Little sparkling fragments of real beauty coruscate amidst the newly polished hit factory, and as cool and as static as it can be I'll always be a fan of Sune and Sharin's ethereal harmonizing.

Looking back now I think I was subconsciously, or maybe not so subconsciously, seeking comfort in the familiar. From the hard rock from my childhood to the Kate Bush that I knew and loved in the 80's and the Fiona Apple in the 90's -- now that I think about it all the more, remembering what a weird, wonky, emotional year this became and how difficult it was for me this past spring to carry myself down from high atop my Misery Tree I think I wasn't in the mind frame to introduce something new into my life. I think I instinctively sought out the auditory equivalent of old friends who would pet me on the head and tell me not to be such a silly goose and then proceed to give me a thorough and richly deserved ass beating. I'm not one to spend too much time wallowing in self pity, but sometimes I need to be reminded that I don't, or else, y'know, I'll forget and stuff.

Anyway, out with the old and all that. Rubbing my hands with barely contained glee over what the new year might bring. I think I may do a best of with movies this year as well, but that may prove even more difficult than albums to sort through and cripes!... remember. Seen so much this year. So damn much. Or at least the ones that I was awake for, that is.