Well, it’s nearly the middle of February already – so it seems as good a time as any to wrap up this round up of the previous years best songs. They don’t call me The Timely Content Kid for nothing. Also some might call having 25 songs on a top 20 list something of a cop out. To which I have no real argument.
It was a great year for music though and I think this list demonstrates just how good. Especially since it was a year in which I didn’t find much time to delve into all that much hip hop – Busdriver and Milo narrowly missed the cut for the list but that was about it for my rap listening in 2015, bar a couple of L’Orange produced albums – and almost completely ignored what was by all accounts an excellent year for black metal. It was a year of Too Much Music and this, for better or worse, is how I spent it. And given how much fun I’ve had putting this list together I’m leaning towards, “for better.”
I was going to include this in the main playlist but once again my integrity, my decency, my unassailable moral core got the better of me. The truth is I didn’t hear this song until 2016. It would have made a sorry mockery over this hallowed list if I were to include it.
Also I already had my 20 and couldn’t bring myself to trim any further. So 21 songs it is.
Brought to my attention by the ever excellent Independent Music Podcast‘s 2015 round up episode the ludicrously named Dokkerman and the Turkeying Fellaz are a Hungarian Afro-beat combo who released a record on the also ever excellent German label Tramp Records last year. If that sentence doesn’t get you excited I’m honestly not sure what you’re looking for in life. It’s an insanely catchy, maddeningly funky piece that has inspired me and my girlfriend to spend a decent chunk of our winter in Wales singing, “Mango mango! Mango mango!” at each other in between debates over whether to put the heating on or not. Not a bit of it makes sense and I love it dearly for that.
There is a nagging worry in my mind about the cultural appropriation of a white Hungarian dude singing about ‘Mango Season’ in a vaguely Caribbean accent, but I’ll leave that for people cleverer than me to worry about. It sounds so damn celebratory of funk and afro-beat it’s incredibly infectious and impossible not to get swept up in.
Part 20 of a 20 part rundown of my favourite tracks of 2015
“You fucked each other and dried out in the light of day/you must get in the car and drive/and wait for the moment you forget what day it is/and what you did not say.”
So ends She Calls After You, a vivid sketch of the afterglow and aftermath of a one night stand (or maybe a one last fling). Pete Simonelli’s spoken word pieces often come with a little sting in the tail but few are a simple and devastating as those last few words. “And what you did not say.” As a piece it’s defined as much by what it leaves out as by what it does say – the nature of the relationship is never made clear, the context of this short walk of shame is never outlined for us. All we know is that as a second person protagonist we’re, “less of a presence than an urge to be moving on.” That we have no choice but to leave and to try our best to shake the regret of leaving. It’s an exercise in weary fatalism that makes the act of quiet retreat sound as thrilling as a car chase, right before the searing guitars ebb away to set the stage for that cutting dénouement.
There are subtle layers of shimmering guitar that drip and glide like rain down a window before the crunch kicks in and it marches towards it’s churning crescendo. I sent my review on Echoes & Dust to guitarist Kevin Thompson who took issue with me comparing Enablers to Slint, pointing out that he’s been ploughing this furrow before they were even a thing. In my defence I find it baffling that people who rave about Breadcrumb Trail and Good Morning, Captain don’t spend their days screaming about the virtues of Enablers similarly narrative based post-punk/post-rock/post-whatever songs from the nearest available rooftop. But after several months with The Rightful Pivot since writing my review I’ve realised just how much they’ve evolved in the 12 years since End Note. It’s lazy shorthand I should probably be put to bed.
Part 19 of a 20 part rundown of my favourite tracks of 2015
Notch up a second appearance for Patrick Kinlon in this years list (the first being Drug Church’s Aging Jerk). That’s a first in the long, illustrious 2 year run of this feature. Well played.
I like Self Defense Family best when they’re playing with a straight bat. As enjoyable as the longer, more obtuse numbers on Heaven is Earth are – for instance the title track and opener In My Defens Self Me Defend – they just don’t stick in the mind for me quite like their neat and tidy 3 minute numbers do. Everybody Wants a Prize for Feeling is probably the best example of the poppier end of their work – a catchy post punk yell-along song coloured by a whimsical melodica backing and capped off with a ragged, hollered chorus of “I feel! I feel! I feel!” it clings to your brain like some kind of mind limpet.
Kinlon often writes his lyrics in first person from the point of view of some character or other, but it’s not always clear what his point is amidst all the seething and arch shouting. Usually his wry, myopic company is enough to sell a track all the same but every now and again you get a blast of clarity like the repressed, frustrated narrator of Everyone Wants.. and it cuts through like a draught of fresh air in a stuffy room.
Part 18 of a 20 part rundown of my favourite tracks of 2015
Another track I wrote about in Wanton Miscellany #2, That Battle is Over stayed on my ‘current listening’ spotify playlist for pretty much the whole year. I never did quite get into Apocalypse, Girl as a whole but this track was amongst the most startlingly brilliant things I heard all year.
If it wasn’t for me watching this video on whim me and Jenny Hval’s work would never have gotten along. I tried listening to Apocalypse, Girl on the advice of some usually reliable sources and immediately hit a brick wall. The free poetry delivery of the opening track was too worthy, too self-consciously in my face for my taste. Perhaps that had something to do it being a drinking alone on a Tuesday sort of evening, but it was a bit too much.I didn’t get it. “Why is this woman singing about rotting bananas?” I wondered. “What was that about beckoning the capitalist clit?”
Then I saw this. I watched as Hval walked through a house full of sketches of traditional ‘womanhood’ – baking, reading to a child at bedtime, applying lipstick. I witnessed as she took a seat and lit a smoke as they gradually disintegrate – humorously, horrifically. l listened as she intoned, “Statistics and newspapers tell me I am unhappy and dying,that I need man and child to fulfill me,” with equal amount of sneering and of fear. And I listened as she shoved a stick into the sand to redraw the battle lines of the 21st century. Simply, eloquently, angrily: “You say I’m free now, that battle is over, and feminism is over & socialism’s over. I can consume what I want now.”
And that’s how Jenny Hval made a fan out of me.
Part 17 of a 20 part rundown of my favourite tracks of 2015
Father John Misty might be a bit too popular for this here blog. He made the top of many an AOTY list for 2015 after all and I’d be risking my reputation as a Pointless Contrarian if I were to start agreeing with people, especially Indie Tastemakers.
Lucky then that the record didn’t make a great deal of sense to me as a whole. Despite it’s attempts to puncture its own sense of smugness, going out of it’s way to show how knowing it is about it’s own sense of self-importance, I couldn’t help but feel that I Love You Honeybear was still a bit too pleased with itself for my liking. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it but ultimately it felt like it was trying to have it’s unappetising looking cake and eat it. So I checked out.
Later I heard The Ideal Husband by chance during one of the three or four occasions I tuned into 6 Music throughout the year. It’s slightly ramshackle nature seemed kind of appealing all of a sudden and it’s lyrics seemed to strike the right note of both revelling and revulsion in the worst aspects of the male ego in a way that reminded me of Greg Dulli’s work, so I threw it on my current listening spotify playlist. It ended up being brought with me to St Ives for me and my partner’s annual trip down there with her family. With no internet connection of any kind in the flat we stayed in the songs I had on my phone were the songs I had for the whole week. And I kept coming back to The Ideal Husband. It accompanied me during a few nights where I had more than a few too many drinks – through drunken breakdowns and bouts of bracing self-loathing. It’s not a song you’d really want to strike a chord with you. But there I was belting out the line, “wouldn’t I make the ideal husband?” with the same knowing snarl as Misty, three sheets to the wind on the end of a pier wondering what the hell I was doing with myself.
I listened to Honeybear again since, thinking it might have been my way in, that I might finally see what all the fuss was about. But I still got nothing out of it. The Ideal Husband is a one off moment of connection I guess. A brief instant where me and Father John Misty shared a knowing glance across the bar, from one fuck up to another. But I still wouldn’t want to have a drink with him.
Part 16 of a 20 part rundown of my favourite tracks of 2015
I spent a decent chunk of 2015 singing Hey Colossus’ praises to anyone would listen. And to a fair few who wouldn’t. Before getting around to reviewing both their 2015 records at the same time (here at WD we* pride ourselves on our** efficiency) I’d been screaming at people in supermarkets and yelling at passing cars to try and get the word out. “They’ve taken it to the next level!” I’d be saying into their terrified faces, “you’ve got to hear In Black & Gold!” Eventually it struck me that using this here blog might be more socially responsible, even if it would mean speaking to a smaller audience than the usual Saturday afternoon Tesco crowd.
At the time I said this about Hop the Railings:
“Hop the Railings is propelled along with the kind of almost motorik rhythm that can put some verve into the most languid of steps as gradually builds quietly to something of a stealthy crescendo. I’ve been listening to it on my morning walk to work and I swear I’m getting in 5-10 minutes earlier than usual. Unfortunately it also has the kind of don’t-give-a-fuck swagger that can lead to wanton jaywalking – there’s been at least on instance of me stepping out into traffic at the “if something’s worth doing/it’s worth doing wrong/you better run along” refrain, feeling so full of piss n’ vinegar that I figured that the cars better get the hell out of my way if they know what’s good for them.”
I stand by that awkwardly phrased sentiment. And I can also happily report that I’m yet to be involved in any accidents that listening to Hey Colossus was directly responsible for.