NYC Music

New York may have turned into Yuppie Paradise but musically it has closed the decade in style, on top of the pop heap. Excuse me then if I indulge in some dancing about architecture.

It has been a fantastic Indie decade for the city, contributing more unforgettable albums to these fragmented ten years than any other time since the CBGB’s heydays in the late 70’s. Be it The Strokes’ Is This It? or TV on the Radio’s Return to Cookie Mountain and Dear Science or Vampire Weekend’s eponymous debut, its been a thrilling ride. In my opinion though, 2009 has put all the other years in the shade.

Just take a look at this year’s releases. Among the countless hipster faves, you’ll find such gems as Antony and The Johnsons’ The Crying Light, Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion, Julian Casablancas’ Phrazes for the Young and arguably the best album of the year- Dirty Projectors’ Bitte Orca.

Pic: Antony Hegarty, beautifully brittle

The Crying Light was the first of the lot that I managed to get. Its impossible to go through the strangely luminous, teasingly seductive songs that makes up the album without being profoundly moved. Everyone knows about Antony Hegarty’s much talked about sexuality, but it really amazes how few have actually heard the music. A great amalgam of jazz figures, understated autumnal strings and Hegarty’s beautiful voice, The Crying Light is absolutely brilliant. Although the album deals with issues like death and decay it’s a classic statement of the creative will turning fear into a defiant celebration of life. Epilepsy is Dancing, based in part on the famous Japanese Butoh dancer Kazuo Ohno, who at 106, is still performing, is a case in point. And then there are deeply sexy, playful songs like Kiss My Name, one of the most accomplished come-ons set to music that I can think of. On top of all that, Hegarty’s album makes one of the most personal environmentalist statements in music. In the haunting Another World, he sings, “I’m gonna miss the sea, gonna miss the snows; I’m gonna miss the trees, miss the things that grow.” A beautiful album.

Pic: Animal Collective, Good Vibrations

Very happy with life seem Brooklyn favourites Animal Collective. They delivered another early stunner when Merriweather Post Pavilion was released in January this year. MPP is like most other AC albums in one way- it takes time getting used to. At least so I thought, before I heard the album a second time. Its no understatement to say that this is veritable candy-shop of an album- immensely accessible, and with new sound-treats in store every time you visit.

Lyrically the songs move away from the tribal hootenannies of yore, peopled by strange animals and colours, as Panda Bear and Avey Tare write about the joys of domesticity on Summertime Clothes. Of course, if you’re as Day-Glo as these gents, even your domesticity’s slightly weird. They write love paens to wives and children in the band’s surreal metaphors on My Girls and Also Frightened. On Brothersport As opposed to being slightly cheesy, its actually exciting and very touching, especially when coupled to the fairground music that goes with it. Ah the music! All AC albums have followed the relatively simple but hard-to-execute sonic architecture of overlapping circular arrangements culled from samplers and damaged-guitar tones, that come together for soaring choruses and then break down again, creating a compelling ebb and flow. In MPP, they get it very right because all the sounds chase the very conventional song structures in a dizzying sound that’s designed for the inside of your head. Grounding this kaleidoscope wash of sounds are deep bass pulses, tambourines and the occasional tribal thud. By the time the album orgasms in the joyous Brother Sport, you’re left breathless and grinning. AND they made Billboard Top 20! Last month’s Fall Be Kind EP’s no slouch either.

Pic: Julian Casablancas, Synth Popper!

Strangely enough, you hear distinctly AC-ish sounds at 1:53 of 4 Chords of the Apocalypse, a great blue-eyed soul number delivered with uncharacteristic ferocity by Strokes-man Julian Casablancas. Yes, you read right- Casablancas and ferocity in one line. Nearly all the members of the Strokes had released multiple solo albums- barring guitarist Nick Valensi- but what people were really eager to hear was new music from the band’s singer and songwriter Julian Casablancas. Finally released, his debut solo album Phrazes for the Young is a triumph.

It starts out on familiar Strokes territory with the chugging, chiming guitars of Out of The Blue bursting from the speakers. But by the time the glorious chorus comes on, it isn’t guitars that come to the fore, but synthesizers! And this from a man who we all thought was a late-Seventies, guitar chewing, Velvet Underground-loving pop purist!But the song’s so good, you can hardly imagine it existing in any other sonic context. The other tune on this short album that most resembles The Strokes is the raging River of Brakelights. But the other six songs take one musical left turn after another, all the while retaining their quality pop hooks. So while Glass can only be described as a combination of Western Classical motifs and shiny, glacial electropop, 11^th Dimension wanders through a looking glass world of cheesy 80s synth pop, treated percussions and a decidedly 50s guitar figure. These wildly disparate elements should never mix, but here they do so, miraculously. In a similar vein, the deep soul of 4 Chords of the Apocalypse suddenly morphs into sampler-led sonic terrorism in the chorus, which then leads to a delightful sweeping guitar solo. It’s a mesmerizing mix, one that feels perfectly logical.

Casablancas has often been accused of singing in a sullen whine. On Phrazes he buries his vocals deep in the mix ala Mick Jagger on The Stones’ Exile on Main Street, and just as Jagger did on that album, Casablancas proceeds to unveil his rich range- considerably better than on the Strokes’ albums- from the fantastic soul croon on Apocalypse to a warped, wry sing song on the country ditty Ludlow Street. His voice is expansive and expressive. It grows on you, and soon you’re humming the tune. Ludlow Street, another strange mix of styles, is the masterpiece on this album. It starts with an ominous drone like something out of the There Will be Blood soundtrack before morphing into a country lament for the soul of New York City. While Casablancas rips into the gradual marketing and yuppification of the world’s greatest- and once the most bohemian- metropolis, banjos duel with pianos, drum machines and loud brass. I’ve never been this pleasantly surprised.

And finally, Dirty Projectors.

Pic: Dirty Projectors, obstinate eccentrics

When I saw Bitte Orca, it looked strange enough for me to get it. And when the heavily reverbed prog guitar intro of Cannibal Resource started, with the very Led Zeppelin heavy drums, I was lulled for a second into thinking that this would be a straightforward pop album. Of course, I knew nothing about band mastermind David Logstreth. Pretty soon the soaring, ethereal voices of singers Angel Deradoorian and Amber Coffman started floating all over the place, in precisely written parts over stop-start rhythms, Tinariwen-like handclaps- all tied into a very Captain Beefheart-like approach to songwriting. Its difficult music, but one that let’s you in if you give it enough time. And once you’re in, the pleasures- melodic and rhythmic- just keep on coming.

Take Temencula Sunrise for one. Soaked in the same warm communal vibes as Merriweather- is this the dawn of an East Coast love-in?- this songs winds its way into your skull through a beautiful chordal acoustic guitar figure that is as eccentric as Longstreth’s high, keening voice; which suddenly leads up to a gloriously electric chorus and then breaks for the second verse which is arranged like a song from Tinariwen’s Aman Iman from two years ago. Longstreth evidently takes African music seriously, and you can hear his influence on the band that two of his erstwhile protégés formed- Vampire Weekend. Anyway, the song then goes into a compelling, driving yet utterly inscrutable guitar solo- more inventive than anything Jack White has recorded in the past few years.

Further on you have the brilliant Timbaland soul r’n’b pastiche Stillness is the Move. Amber Coffman outdoes herself in a masterful vocal turn of glorious radiance. Then you have the unsettling folk ballad Two Doves and other highlights like Useful Chamber which winds all over the place over eerie keyboard figures and voices, a dancefloor beat before convening for the strangely uplifting chorus of “Bitte Orca Orca Bitte” and another blistering solo that Jimmy Page would have been proud of, as would be Thurston Moore. Its mesmerizing music, messy by design and rich in melody and rhythm. Its my favourite album of the year by miles.