The Year in Noise

REDCAT

The Arcade Fire's The Suburbs was one of the best five albums released in 2010

By Shane Danaher

Five outstanding albums from 2010

Declaring any of the past year's albums to be "the best" would be kind of a warped sentiment. A decade ago, such veneration may have made sense, but with the internet fracturing the way we listen to music, it's not clear what the word "best" would even mean at this point.

Still, there's good music being made, and plenty of it too. But in the micro-constituencies that make up hip-hop, thrash metal, or dub step listeners, who can say one group is head and shoulders above another when we aren't even using the same measurements of greatness?

Yet, there still is a zeitgeist and as withered as it may be, representative cases do exist. Below are five albums that encapsulate some of the best things that happened in music this year. Instead of a coda, see these as more of a jumping off point, the proverbial tip of an iceberg that we could and probably should spend the next year exploring.

Crazy For You, Best Coast, Mexican Summer/Wichita

 

Los Angeles native Bethany Cosentino was a 23-year-old experimental rocker and a slacker of immense potential when she joined up with compatriots Bobb Bruno and Ali Koehner to play surf rock, as interpreted through the crackle of a broken speaker and the inches-thick reverb of a mid-60s doo-wop band. The result was Best Coast, and in the past year the trio has shrugged its way to national renown. Even before Crazy For You had a title, Spin Magazine was clamoring for Cosento and company, Pitchfork.com was itching for advance tracks, and kids in wayfarers across the nation were giving approving nods to the group's singles. When Crazy For You finally did appear, it validated the hype and then some. Taking the gauzy ballads of '60s surf-rock and imbuing them with a dark malaise, Best Coast created something that was both gruff and hypnotically Stygian—beach music for a 21st century California coast.

Crystal Castles, Crystal Castles, Fiction/Last Gang/Universal Motown

 

Crystal Castles are the poster children for next-century gothic menace. The Toronto duo is composed of Ethan Kath and Alice Glass, a pair that has spent the past five years tearing Bonnie and Clyde-like through the world of electronic music. Kath's beats constantly twitch, splutter, and threaten to erupt with dial-up-noise dissonance. The group's real soul, however, is Glass. A feral-looking dark pixie, Glass deploys her lyrics in breathless gasps. She would be a goth if she weren't howling her disaffection over menacing dance cuts, and, in fact, the group has kept its commitment across two albums (and countless remixes) to remaining combatively haunted. On Crystal Castles (the duo's second self-titled LP) Glass and Kath perform a tense balancing act between the soothing trance of their dronier pieces and the razor-sharp electronic violence that gives those periods of calm their irresistible tension.

I Am Not a Human Being, Lil Wayne, Cash Money Records

 

I Am Not a Human Being? Sure you aren't, Lil Wayne. Actually, no, I take that back. This is Weezy we're talking about, and in his case reality is going to have to make an exception for him. Claw your way to the top of the hip-hop world only to release the world's most ill-advised rock album? Sure. Get sent to prison on a weapons charge only to buck the system by not only releasing an album while in the joint, but also using that album to declare you are not human and therefore not subject to the justice system? Yeah, sounds about right. I Am Not a Human Being is Lil Wayne's thankful return to the rap game, and the unhinged lyrical talent that marked his rise has returned along with him. Though there is really only one hit single from the album (the legitimately lauded "Right Above It"), Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr. has proven that even behind bars, and on an off day, he's still one of the best in the game.

Lisbon, The Walkmen, Fat Possom

 

I saw The Walkmen perform earlier this fall, and from the first notes sounded by the Brooklyn-based quintet it was clear what adjective most appropriately summed up the group: professional. The Walkmen dress like day traders, write rock and roll straight from a tightly wound gut, and play with the absolute precision of people who have chosen a discipline and mastered it through years (and years and years) of practice. It makes sense when you think about it. Formed from the ashes of Jonathan Fire*Eater in 2000, The Walkmen have had six albums and a solid decade to perfect their craft and Lisbon maintains the same crisp, howling momentum that made hits out of the band's earlier singles like "The Rat" and "In the New Year." On Lisbon, however, The Walkmen expand into the tasteful horn flourishes of "Stranded," and the measured melancholy of "Blue As Your Blood" without so much as a single plucked guitar string or organ chord falling out of place. And like true pros, The Walkmen make it look easy.

The Suburbs, The Arcade Fire, Merge Records

 

Back in 2004, when The Arcade Fire released its debut album, Funeral, an unmistakable ambition was in the hearts of this Montreal-based indie rock orchestra. There were art rock flourishes, some involved structural chicanery, and a grand, nearly apocalyptic momentum – a momentum that seemed, even at that earliest of junctures, like it was aiming for arena-sized sentiments. In the years since that debut, The Arcade Fire has proven itself to be one of the finest rock groups of its generation, regularly indulging in its aforementioned fetish for epic scale in a manner that is, well, epic. The Suburbs showcases husband-and-wife songwriting duo Win Butler and Regine Chassange employing their love of hyperbolic scale with the intelligence and insight that has made The Arcade Fire the undisputed king of the independent rock world. With a melancholic kiss-off to its early fans ("Rococo") and a few sing-along choruses that would make The Boss blush ("We Used to Wait"), The Arcade Fire might be the first band of its generation to not only have attained super-stardom, but to have actually earned the honor.

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