Previously:
120-101,
100-91,
90-81,
80-71
Spotify Playlist
70. Japandroids - Midnight To Morning
Even with a couple of their edges smoothed out, Brian King and David Prowse still sound like they're having fun. I imagine this track as their attempt - a really good one, honestly - at dipping a foot in the adult-alternative crossover waters. There's still that soaring element that all the best Japandroids songs have, but the vocals are softer and hookier. It isn't until about three minutes in that things just a little mosh-y, but the table is quickly reset afterward. It's a unique combination and progression within a track for this band in the wake of the likes of
Post-Nothing and
Celebration Rock.
69. Childhood - Too Old For My Tears
This lo-fi bopper sounds like it should be playing softly in the background of the pool party scene of some slightly overdramatic rom-com. I mean, that's what I hear, anyway. It's got a nice, steady groove; has enough 80s and 90s influence to swing the pendulum back from "dated" to "informed"; and that warbly guitar solo outro really has a nice flow to it. Sometimes I wonder if this song wasn't actually released in 1993, and I'm only just now hearing of it. Either way, I'm glad I have.
68. Perfume Genius - Otherside
First: No, it's not a Red Hot Chili Peppers cover. Second: I'm prone to putting songs on this list despite not having a connection or full understanding of lyrics, and so I won't try to explain what the lyrics of "Otherside" mean. The most plausible theory I've found mentions something about an amalgam of quick phrases and sayings that have given singer Mike Hadreas comfort over the years. I'm fine going with that, but that's not why I think so highly of this track. I'm a sucker for emotional swells that really hit their mark, those momentary bursts or slow builds that erupt in a spectacular cloud of sound at their apex. When I first listened to this track - the first on
No Shape - I absolutely did not expect the track to suddenly explode into the musical equivalent of a sun shower with its rainbow already in full view. And it happens twice! It's a glorious moment, and it alone is enough to propel this song deep into my list this year.
67. Japanese Breakfast - The Body Is A Blade
"Try your best to slowly withdraw," Michelle Zauner coaxes you. She's not imploring here; there's a calmness in her words that's neither forceful nor desperate, like she's some sort of guru. There are other little nuggets of advice and zen-like guidance sprinkled throughout: "Try not to get so righteous about what's fair for everyone," "Your body is a blade that cuts a path from day to day," it all sounds a bit like someone talking themselves up from a downer situation, which is a perceptive and insightful way to look at things. It's important to remember that, if all else fails, we can be our own best ally.
66. Peter Silberman - Karuna
While it's a shame that hearing issues have forced Peter Silberman to change the way he plays and records music these days, it's a gift that that change in philosophy has produced as pretty a track as this. The first track on Silberman's first proper solo effort apart from The Antlers is a methodical, layered soundscape that proceeds at as gentle a pace as any song can. It's nine minutes long, and half of that consists of one or two guitars, Silberman's voice, and echoes of the guitars' pedals that fade into brief silences. It's bare. It's sparse. It's soothing, in the way a Silberman-sung track not involving odes to Sylvia Plath or terminally ill relationships could be expected to be. This track both requires and rewards patience, and the payout is large.
65. The Shins - So Now What
James Mercer has a nice falsetto, and we get to hear it at the start of "So Now What," one of those rare songs that immediately starts with a pass through its chorus. From there, we get a track that fits snugly in with the rest of the latter-day Shins discography: More production value, less acoustic guitar and less
sotto voce from Mercer. The aforementioned chorus has that airy, feel-good aura about it with an easy hook that makes it eminently hummable.
64. Future Islands - Ran
You can say this about a-few-to-a-lot of bands right now, but...man, no one else really sounds like Future Islands. A lot of that has to do with Samuel Herring and his super-emotive voice and delivery, but their mix of desk-pounding drum beats and high-in-the-mix bass also play a huge part in their sound. In fact, they may even play a bigger part in this track than Herring, as Samuel is (relatively) laid back on this track. It channels a lot of what made "Seasons (Waiting On You)" such a huge crossover success a few years back, and continues the group's progression toward sounding (a bit) more polished on record since
In Evening Air.
63. The National - The System Only Dreams In Total Darkness
A harmonic vocal intro? A pronounced synth bridge? A
guitar solo?! Who are you, and what have you done with The N--...oh, no, wait, you're still The National. You still have a song rife with tension and foreboding. You still have wine-bottle-in-hand Matt Berninger penning your lyrics. Everything's still intact, whew. Still, this track - and album, on the whole - represent enough of a sonic shift for The National as to make them feel fresh in spite of the volume of their discography (seven albums now, geez).
62. Slowdive - Don't Know Why
Rachel Goswell and Neil Halstead trade verses in a type of call-and-response breakup song here, one about the need to forcibly disconnect oneself from a former partner in order to move on. Goswell's verses, barely intelligible, are best summarized as "do what you gotta do, but I don't want to know about any of it." Halstead's objections feel futile, as his refusal to try and truly move on both hinder him and push Goswell's character further away. The layering of vocals in the chorus - a restating of the verses with additions of "bury all the magic" and "bury all the treasure" interwoven - is immersively beautiful stuff.
61. Jessie Ware - First Time
Counterbalancing the song before it on this list, here we find Jessie Ware fighting against the dying of the light and working to preserve a relationship that's been dimmed but not extinguished. Think back to how we used to be, she pleads, when everything was new. "Remember how we kept this love alive?" she asks, and even though I'm unsure if she's talking about a previous rekindling effort, or if she's simply being optimistic. Either way, her intent is clear and direct: "Don't hold me like you already know me / I'm not leaving 'til I get you to show me," Ware sings as she puts her foot down and makes her position known. For her, this is worth fighting for, and she's going to give it all she's got.
Next:
60-51
