2010: The List, #15-11
Feb. 18th, 2011 04:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urgencytobleed15. Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
Here is what it took for me to finally settle on my opinion of Arcade Fire and, specifically, their latest album, The Suburbs: the album winning a popular yet rather meaningless honor at a flashy nationally-televised awards show. Of course I'm talking about the band's surprise Album of the Year win at this year's Grammy awards because, despite the often populist slant of the awards in the past few years that has stripped them of most of their credibility, it's still a wonderful feeling to witness a hard-working and talented band on an independent label receive the widespread accolades they deserve. It also put the album in perspective for me. Though it's not my personal favorite album of the year, it's certainly one of them but it's been difficult to decide exactly where it ranks for me. Because of its length, it can sometimes be a bit tiring to take in all in one sitting. Yet it's impossible for me to come up with which songs should have been cut; even the ones that leave the slightest impression on me hold at least one redeeming factor in their favor. So can the length really be called a fault if every minute of it feels necessary? I'm not sure so instead, I suppose the thing to ask is how the quality of the album's best tracks compare to those found on other albums here. That's an easier question to answer. The brilliance of a handful of The Suburbs' songs is nearly unrivaled by all but the top few albums on this list. Though the overall sound of the album is more controlled and mature than Arcade Fire's past releases, many of the songs are no less emotionally satisfying. The title track is gorgeous and nostalgic and feels like a sprawling epic without ever actually changing tempo much. "Empty Room" and "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)" allow Régine Chassagne to take the lead vocally for a change and the results are glorious; the former has one of the most stirring string arrangements I've heard in awhile and the latter is synth-drenched and the closest to danceable Arcade Fire has ever come. They also both have big choruses full of unbridled energy that are hard not to sing along to at the top of your lungs. Chassange's high, child-like vocals compliment her husband Win Butler's gruffer tone perfectly and this is no more clearly evident than in "Half Life," both the beautifully subdued first part and the more intense second. But perhaps The Suburbs' brightest moments are the slightly looser, more rocking "Ready to Start" and "We Used to Wait." These are easily among the best songs Win Butler has ever written and they are practically impossible not to love. The first is rollicking and aggressive but never comes completely unhinged, which quite adequately illustrates the difference between this album and the band's lauded debut, Funeral: they have mastered the fine art of controlled chaos, of making a massive impact without going over the top. "We Used to Wait," meanwhile, is easily the album's highlight for me. The plodding one-note piano intro is instantly attention-grabbing and memorable and while its subject matter - the increasing lack of necessity for writing physical letters in this modern age - seems slightly pretentious on the surface, the lyrics are anything but. In fact, they are surprisingly touching: "It seems strange how we used to wait for letters to arrive/But what's stranger still is how something so small can keep you alive." Based on all this, I almost want to place this album far higher but, still, there's something unexplainable keeping me from doing so. I think, mostly, I don't have quite such a visceral reaction to The Suburbs as I do many of these other albums. But it's certainly one of the most consistent and well-crafted here.
14. Jónsi - Go
Sometimes, I have trouble believing Jónsi is actually a human being. That voice, surely it must come from an alien, some ethereal being from another planet, and not a mere mortal who is just like the rest of us. The Sigur Rós frontman, who, with Go, is branching out for the first time on his own, has a truly spectacular gift. Maybe his voice isn't the most powerful or expansive from a purely technical point of view but the things he can do with it, the emotions he can create are nothing short of astonishing. I am convinced the man could sing the alphabet and still, it would be one of the most beautiful, heartbreaking sounds you've ever heard. But don't worry, there's no alphabet-reciting going on here. On Go, not only are we treated to his lovely voice but also to breathtakingly gorgeous harmonies and intricate, elaborate musical arrangements. None of it is terribly dissimilar to his music with Sigur Rós but it makes sense that it's been released under his own name for there is something different about it, a youthful, vivacious energy that permeates even the slowest of songs. Also differentiating Go from Jónsi's past works, most of the lyrics are in English, though his voice is so otherworldly that this is not always completely obvious. The album's most upbeat songs, like "Animal Arithmetic" and "Boy Lilikoi," are great fun and the closest to danceable Jónsi's music has ever come, immediately accessible but, also, upon closer inspection, full of fascinating and unique sounds. Opener "Go Do" is the most impressive of this group; it swells and builds expertly as Jónsi coos over a bed of fluttering woodwinds and subtle electronics, a combination of opposing sounds that works surprisingly well. But where the album most shines is in its quieter, more naturalistic moments. "Tornado" is easily one of the most achingly beautiful things I've heard all year. The song starts off very simply, with only a sparse piano melody and subdued vocals, but then it begins to erupt one layer at a time into controlled cacophony. Yet Jónsi's delicate voice is never swallowed up by the heavy instrumentation; instead, his fragile falsetto rises above it all, soaring like an angel over the destruction below until, finally, it dies back down into nearly nothing. "Grow Till Tall," though not one of the most aurally stimulating songs on the album, rewards listeners who are patient enough to lose themselves in its slow, subtle build-up, a build-up that is crafted almost entirely by the rising and falling of Jónsi's vocals alone. Then there's "Around Us," which falls somewhere in between these two categories of songs, with a lively, catchy chorus and a musical backdrop that seems to include everything but the kitchen sink. Despite its energy, the atmosphere is very different than that of the other upbeat songs, less playful and more melancholy. At nine songs that total to around forty minutes long, Go is the perfect kind of album; it doesn't overstay its welcome. Instead, it leaves you wanting more, not in an unsatisfying way, but in a way that will keep you coming back to it time and time again. It's the kind of album that, at times, can seem perfectly tailored to your mood, an immensely rich emotional experience. Even when you're not in the mindset to get the most out of it, it is, at the very least, still some of the most pleasant background music imaginable, so pleasant that it might be difficult to leave it in the background for long. Soon enough, it will be front and center.
13. Zola Jesus - Stridulum/Valusia
Nika Roza Danilova is the twenty-one year old mastermind behind Zola Jesus and her music is full of contradictions, which is perhaps what makes it so intriguing. Her songs are all built up from the same foundation: stark, simplistic and incredibly lo-fi instrumentation and production values; yet, in spite of this sparse aesthetic, her songs also sound surprisingly dense and rich, mostly due to Danilova's staggering vocal prowess and her uncanny ear for a brilliant melody, even if that melody is at first hidden by distortion and droning keyboards and drum machine beats. Above all, the tracks found on the two EPs Danilova released this year, Stridulum and Valusia, are tight, catchy little pop songs trying their very hardest to convince the listener they are anything but. And, at first, how nearly purposely polarizing they seem to be is a bit frustrating. But still, something you can't quite explain keeps you listening and then, suddenly, before you know it, you've managed to fall in love. Taken at face value, Danilova's compositions may come across as cold and impenetrable, a first impression which isn't helped any by their noisy, slightly gothic musical backdrops and Danilova's voice which, impressive as it is, cannot exactly be described as subtle or nuanced. However, once you start to really pay attention, to notice the straightforward, unmasked desperation in the lyrics and the delectable melodies that have been lying just out of reach, waiting for the perfect opportunity to spring up and catch you off guard, it all suddenly makes sense. Because, really, these songs are anything but cold. In fact, they are brimming with barely-contained emotions. When Danilova confesses, her words regretful yet strangely comforting, "I can't stand to see you this way/It's going to be alright" or "I don't have a reason to go back home/So what am I supposed to do?/What am I supposed to do?", we believe her every word. Her voice may be big and bombastic but it works perfectly here; in fact, a less powerful voice would strip these songs of much of their memorability and lasting value. It's hard to imagine Stridulum's closing track, "Manifest Destiny," ending any other way than with Danilova's wounded and passionate final battle cry, "Yeah, don't worry about/Don't worry about the rest." That moment right there is truly spine-tingling and showcases exactly what Danilova is capable of at her best, a place I think she is very close to but still has yet to reach. This isn't easy music or the kind of music you put on in the background to multitask to and it's not going to suit everyone's tastes. But it is the kind of music that is ultimately very rewarding for those patient enough to sit back and let it work its magic. And even if it never quite clicks, you've got to at least admire Danilova's singular vision and her fearlessness in striving to achieve it.
12. First Aid Kit - The Big Black and the Blue
Who would have guessed that one of the most engaging debut albums of the year would come from two Swedish teenage sisters? But that's exactly what Klara and Johanna Söderberg have managed to craft: an album that is both full of promise and nearly too good to possibly top in the future. The Big Black and the Blue is a charming collection of songs, built mainly on acoustic instrumentation and the Söderberg sisters' flawless harmonies, that I think you would probably have to be dead not to fall in love with. The album is at once remarkably mature and incredibly youthful, mixing equal parts folk, pop and alt-country with a dash of twee into a delightfully infectious concoction. Opener "In the Morning" works as a perfect warm-up to the rest of the album. Mostly a cappella, the Söderbergs' vocals are placed front and center here and they are commanding enough to not even need any additional instrumentation. From there, the harmonies only grow lovelier, the melodies catchier and more intriguing. The lyrics are also more remarkable than one might expect them to be. "Waltz for Richard" is a stripped-down, nostalgic and slightly twangy ballad and the girls sound far wiser than their years as they sing, "See, no living is that easy/No living is that fair/Of course I was going to lose you/Were you ever even there?" Later on, "Ghost Town" is slightly spooky while also carrying a very regretful tone, like a good old-fashioned torch song: "Maybe I should just turn around and walk away/For no matter how much I really do want to stay/You know I can't/Know it's too late." But the album isn't all sad ballads; in fact, much of it is far from that. Songs like "Hard Believer," "Sailor Song," "Heavy Storm," and "Winter Is All Over You" are lively and fun, with fresh, feisty melodies that keep you, as the listener, constantly on your toes and lyrics that combine sincerity and just the right amount of black humor. For example, "Winter Is All Over You" contrasts a weary, pleading chorus of "Don't leave this world to me" with playful verses rich in unusual imagery: "Well, you drove off in the summer rain/I waved to you like a sleeping dream... I saw your mother at the department store/She looked innocent like a stillborn." By the time you've reached the end of The Big Black and the Blue, you'll likely find yourself unwilling to believe this is First Aid Kit's first full-length release and then you'll probably want to play it all over again. It's got incredible repeat value, both as one complete package and by individual song. I personally find it impossible to listen through this album without repeating about half of the tracks at least one additional time. Honestly, the back button will be giving your finger the best workout it's ever had. And so, with The Big Black and the Blue being as impressive as it is, it's hard to imagine where these girls will go next. Hopefully, it will only be on to bigger and better things, which will be quite a feat indeed.
11. Azure Ray - Drawing Down the Moon
I've been trying to figure out why Maria Taylor and Orenda Fink sound so good together. I'm not sure my explanation makes sense to anyone but me but I've decided it's because Taylor's voice is cooler-toned and Fink's is warmer. This is even evident in the stylistic differences between the ladies' solo work: where Taylor's first album on her own was heavy on layered, wintry and vaguely electronic songs, Fink's was sultry, sensual and extremely Haitian-inspired. On their own, they're very good but there's nothing better than the way their two voices work together, which has made it all the more troubling that Azure Ray's last (and best) album, Hold on Love, was released way back in 2003. But finally, seven years later, after releasing slightly lackluster solo albums in 2009, they have come together again to bring us Drawing Down the Moon, a stunningly beautiful collection of songs that sounds almost as if they were never apart in the first place. Though not much has changed in Azure Ray's sound all these years later, in their case, that's not a bad thing. In fact, their very specific, constant sound is what makes their music so appealing. It's the perfect kind of music to fall asleep to or to get completely lost inside, depending on your mood. On the surface, it is simple but once you dig in deeper, you find that it is actually far more complex than it appears. As usual, the girls switch back and forth on lead vocal duties on a song-by-song basis. Also as usual, Taylor's songs tend to be the most instantly catchy and attention-grabbing ("Don't Leave My Mind" and "Shouldn't Have Loved" aren't the album's best tracks by far but their strong hooks will stick in your mind immediately) while Fink's tend to be more subtle and slower to reveal themselves. "Larraine" is her most affecting on first listen because it wears its heart on its sleeve; Fink's voice sounds so strained and wounded by the end of the song that it's impossible not to feel the pain in it. But songs like "Signs in the Leaves" and "Love and Permanence" are less open and instead reel you patiently in before suddenly hitting you right where it hurts. The way Fink sings lines like "I'm a little worried/That I killed/Something inside of me/When I let you go" or "Oh, I wanted love and permanence/You wanted the night when/The stars fell to their death" you find yourself hanging on to her every word; the way she delivers a lyric can enrich its meaning tenfold. Though her songs on Drawing Down the Moon are not surprising they are the kinds of songs she is incredibly good at crafting. Taylor, on the other hand, shines most when she steps slightly out of her shimmery indie pop comfort zone. "On and On Again" is as minimal as the album gets and the blankness of its canvas works greatly in its favor. When Taylor sings achingly in the chorus, with so little instrumentation beneath her it is practically non-existent, "I would give this a shot/If you would too/If you would too," that moment is utterly spine-tingling. Also spine-tingling is the whole of "Silver Sorrow," hazy, gauzy and gorgeous dream pop at its best. It is more built on harmony than melody and is, basically, just four minutes of the loveliest, smoothest vocals you can imagine. Then there's the closer, "Walking in Circles," which is short and sweet and drenched in melancholy and wouldn't sound out of place on one of Taylor's solo albums. Overall, Drawing Down the Moon is close to the best thing Azure Ray has ever done. I'm not sure if they have plans to go ahead with more music or if this is a one-off deal but, either way, this album is an essential addition to their body of work that I'm very glad they've made.
Here is what it took for me to finally settle on my opinion of Arcade Fire and, specifically, their latest album, The Suburbs: the album winning a popular yet rather meaningless honor at a flashy nationally-televised awards show. Of course I'm talking about the band's surprise Album of the Year win at this year's Grammy awards because, despite the often populist slant of the awards in the past few years that has stripped them of most of their credibility, it's still a wonderful feeling to witness a hard-working and talented band on an independent label receive the widespread accolades they deserve. It also put the album in perspective for me. Though it's not my personal favorite album of the year, it's certainly one of them but it's been difficult to decide exactly where it ranks for me. Because of its length, it can sometimes be a bit tiring to take in all in one sitting. Yet it's impossible for me to come up with which songs should have been cut; even the ones that leave the slightest impression on me hold at least one redeeming factor in their favor. So can the length really be called a fault if every minute of it feels necessary? I'm not sure so instead, I suppose the thing to ask is how the quality of the album's best tracks compare to those found on other albums here. That's an easier question to answer. The brilliance of a handful of The Suburbs' songs is nearly unrivaled by all but the top few albums on this list. Though the overall sound of the album is more controlled and mature than Arcade Fire's past releases, many of the songs are no less emotionally satisfying. The title track is gorgeous and nostalgic and feels like a sprawling epic without ever actually changing tempo much. "Empty Room" and "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)" allow Régine Chassagne to take the lead vocally for a change and the results are glorious; the former has one of the most stirring string arrangements I've heard in awhile and the latter is synth-drenched and the closest to danceable Arcade Fire has ever come. They also both have big choruses full of unbridled energy that are hard not to sing along to at the top of your lungs. Chassange's high, child-like vocals compliment her husband Win Butler's gruffer tone perfectly and this is no more clearly evident than in "Half Life," both the beautifully subdued first part and the more intense second. But perhaps The Suburbs' brightest moments are the slightly looser, more rocking "Ready to Start" and "We Used to Wait." These are easily among the best songs Win Butler has ever written and they are practically impossible not to love. The first is rollicking and aggressive but never comes completely unhinged, which quite adequately illustrates the difference between this album and the band's lauded debut, Funeral: they have mastered the fine art of controlled chaos, of making a massive impact without going over the top. "We Used to Wait," meanwhile, is easily the album's highlight for me. The plodding one-note piano intro is instantly attention-grabbing and memorable and while its subject matter - the increasing lack of necessity for writing physical letters in this modern age - seems slightly pretentious on the surface, the lyrics are anything but. In fact, they are surprisingly touching: "It seems strange how we used to wait for letters to arrive/But what's stranger still is how something so small can keep you alive." Based on all this, I almost want to place this album far higher but, still, there's something unexplainable keeping me from doing so. I think, mostly, I don't have quite such a visceral reaction to The Suburbs as I do many of these other albums. But it's certainly one of the most consistent and well-crafted here.
14. Jónsi - Go
Sometimes, I have trouble believing Jónsi is actually a human being. That voice, surely it must come from an alien, some ethereal being from another planet, and not a mere mortal who is just like the rest of us. The Sigur Rós frontman, who, with Go, is branching out for the first time on his own, has a truly spectacular gift. Maybe his voice isn't the most powerful or expansive from a purely technical point of view but the things he can do with it, the emotions he can create are nothing short of astonishing. I am convinced the man could sing the alphabet and still, it would be one of the most beautiful, heartbreaking sounds you've ever heard. But don't worry, there's no alphabet-reciting going on here. On Go, not only are we treated to his lovely voice but also to breathtakingly gorgeous harmonies and intricate, elaborate musical arrangements. None of it is terribly dissimilar to his music with Sigur Rós but it makes sense that it's been released under his own name for there is something different about it, a youthful, vivacious energy that permeates even the slowest of songs. Also differentiating Go from Jónsi's past works, most of the lyrics are in English, though his voice is so otherworldly that this is not always completely obvious. The album's most upbeat songs, like "Animal Arithmetic" and "Boy Lilikoi," are great fun and the closest to danceable Jónsi's music has ever come, immediately accessible but, also, upon closer inspection, full of fascinating and unique sounds. Opener "Go Do" is the most impressive of this group; it swells and builds expertly as Jónsi coos over a bed of fluttering woodwinds and subtle electronics, a combination of opposing sounds that works surprisingly well. But where the album most shines is in its quieter, more naturalistic moments. "Tornado" is easily one of the most achingly beautiful things I've heard all year. The song starts off very simply, with only a sparse piano melody and subdued vocals, but then it begins to erupt one layer at a time into controlled cacophony. Yet Jónsi's delicate voice is never swallowed up by the heavy instrumentation; instead, his fragile falsetto rises above it all, soaring like an angel over the destruction below until, finally, it dies back down into nearly nothing. "Grow Till Tall," though not one of the most aurally stimulating songs on the album, rewards listeners who are patient enough to lose themselves in its slow, subtle build-up, a build-up that is crafted almost entirely by the rising and falling of Jónsi's vocals alone. Then there's "Around Us," which falls somewhere in between these two categories of songs, with a lively, catchy chorus and a musical backdrop that seems to include everything but the kitchen sink. Despite its energy, the atmosphere is very different than that of the other upbeat songs, less playful and more melancholy. At nine songs that total to around forty minutes long, Go is the perfect kind of album; it doesn't overstay its welcome. Instead, it leaves you wanting more, not in an unsatisfying way, but in a way that will keep you coming back to it time and time again. It's the kind of album that, at times, can seem perfectly tailored to your mood, an immensely rich emotional experience. Even when you're not in the mindset to get the most out of it, it is, at the very least, still some of the most pleasant background music imaginable, so pleasant that it might be difficult to leave it in the background for long. Soon enough, it will be front and center.
13. Zola Jesus - Stridulum/Valusia
Nika Roza Danilova is the twenty-one year old mastermind behind Zola Jesus and her music is full of contradictions, which is perhaps what makes it so intriguing. Her songs are all built up from the same foundation: stark, simplistic and incredibly lo-fi instrumentation and production values; yet, in spite of this sparse aesthetic, her songs also sound surprisingly dense and rich, mostly due to Danilova's staggering vocal prowess and her uncanny ear for a brilliant melody, even if that melody is at first hidden by distortion and droning keyboards and drum machine beats. Above all, the tracks found on the two EPs Danilova released this year, Stridulum and Valusia, are tight, catchy little pop songs trying their very hardest to convince the listener they are anything but. And, at first, how nearly purposely polarizing they seem to be is a bit frustrating. But still, something you can't quite explain keeps you listening and then, suddenly, before you know it, you've managed to fall in love. Taken at face value, Danilova's compositions may come across as cold and impenetrable, a first impression which isn't helped any by their noisy, slightly gothic musical backdrops and Danilova's voice which, impressive as it is, cannot exactly be described as subtle or nuanced. However, once you start to really pay attention, to notice the straightforward, unmasked desperation in the lyrics and the delectable melodies that have been lying just out of reach, waiting for the perfect opportunity to spring up and catch you off guard, it all suddenly makes sense. Because, really, these songs are anything but cold. In fact, they are brimming with barely-contained emotions. When Danilova confesses, her words regretful yet strangely comforting, "I can't stand to see you this way/It's going to be alright" or "I don't have a reason to go back home/So what am I supposed to do?/What am I supposed to do?", we believe her every word. Her voice may be big and bombastic but it works perfectly here; in fact, a less powerful voice would strip these songs of much of their memorability and lasting value. It's hard to imagine Stridulum's closing track, "Manifest Destiny," ending any other way than with Danilova's wounded and passionate final battle cry, "Yeah, don't worry about/Don't worry about the rest." That moment right there is truly spine-tingling and showcases exactly what Danilova is capable of at her best, a place I think she is very close to but still has yet to reach. This isn't easy music or the kind of music you put on in the background to multitask to and it's not going to suit everyone's tastes. But it is the kind of music that is ultimately very rewarding for those patient enough to sit back and let it work its magic. And even if it never quite clicks, you've got to at least admire Danilova's singular vision and her fearlessness in striving to achieve it.
12. First Aid Kit - The Big Black and the Blue
Who would have guessed that one of the most engaging debut albums of the year would come from two Swedish teenage sisters? But that's exactly what Klara and Johanna Söderberg have managed to craft: an album that is both full of promise and nearly too good to possibly top in the future. The Big Black and the Blue is a charming collection of songs, built mainly on acoustic instrumentation and the Söderberg sisters' flawless harmonies, that I think you would probably have to be dead not to fall in love with. The album is at once remarkably mature and incredibly youthful, mixing equal parts folk, pop and alt-country with a dash of twee into a delightfully infectious concoction. Opener "In the Morning" works as a perfect warm-up to the rest of the album. Mostly a cappella, the Söderbergs' vocals are placed front and center here and they are commanding enough to not even need any additional instrumentation. From there, the harmonies only grow lovelier, the melodies catchier and more intriguing. The lyrics are also more remarkable than one might expect them to be. "Waltz for Richard" is a stripped-down, nostalgic and slightly twangy ballad and the girls sound far wiser than their years as they sing, "See, no living is that easy/No living is that fair/Of course I was going to lose you/Were you ever even there?" Later on, "Ghost Town" is slightly spooky while also carrying a very regretful tone, like a good old-fashioned torch song: "Maybe I should just turn around and walk away/For no matter how much I really do want to stay/You know I can't/Know it's too late." But the album isn't all sad ballads; in fact, much of it is far from that. Songs like "Hard Believer," "Sailor Song," "Heavy Storm," and "Winter Is All Over You" are lively and fun, with fresh, feisty melodies that keep you, as the listener, constantly on your toes and lyrics that combine sincerity and just the right amount of black humor. For example, "Winter Is All Over You" contrasts a weary, pleading chorus of "Don't leave this world to me" with playful verses rich in unusual imagery: "Well, you drove off in the summer rain/I waved to you like a sleeping dream... I saw your mother at the department store/She looked innocent like a stillborn." By the time you've reached the end of The Big Black and the Blue, you'll likely find yourself unwilling to believe this is First Aid Kit's first full-length release and then you'll probably want to play it all over again. It's got incredible repeat value, both as one complete package and by individual song. I personally find it impossible to listen through this album without repeating about half of the tracks at least one additional time. Honestly, the back button will be giving your finger the best workout it's ever had. And so, with The Big Black and the Blue being as impressive as it is, it's hard to imagine where these girls will go next. Hopefully, it will only be on to bigger and better things, which will be quite a feat indeed.
11. Azure Ray - Drawing Down the Moon
I've been trying to figure out why Maria Taylor and Orenda Fink sound so good together. I'm not sure my explanation makes sense to anyone but me but I've decided it's because Taylor's voice is cooler-toned and Fink's is warmer. This is even evident in the stylistic differences between the ladies' solo work: where Taylor's first album on her own was heavy on layered, wintry and vaguely electronic songs, Fink's was sultry, sensual and extremely Haitian-inspired. On their own, they're very good but there's nothing better than the way their two voices work together, which has made it all the more troubling that Azure Ray's last (and best) album, Hold on Love, was released way back in 2003. But finally, seven years later, after releasing slightly lackluster solo albums in 2009, they have come together again to bring us Drawing Down the Moon, a stunningly beautiful collection of songs that sounds almost as if they were never apart in the first place. Though not much has changed in Azure Ray's sound all these years later, in their case, that's not a bad thing. In fact, their very specific, constant sound is what makes their music so appealing. It's the perfect kind of music to fall asleep to or to get completely lost inside, depending on your mood. On the surface, it is simple but once you dig in deeper, you find that it is actually far more complex than it appears. As usual, the girls switch back and forth on lead vocal duties on a song-by-song basis. Also as usual, Taylor's songs tend to be the most instantly catchy and attention-grabbing ("Don't Leave My Mind" and "Shouldn't Have Loved" aren't the album's best tracks by far but their strong hooks will stick in your mind immediately) while Fink's tend to be more subtle and slower to reveal themselves. "Larraine" is her most affecting on first listen because it wears its heart on its sleeve; Fink's voice sounds so strained and wounded by the end of the song that it's impossible not to feel the pain in it. But songs like "Signs in the Leaves" and "Love and Permanence" are less open and instead reel you patiently in before suddenly hitting you right where it hurts. The way Fink sings lines like "I'm a little worried/That I killed/Something inside of me/When I let you go" or "Oh, I wanted love and permanence/You wanted the night when/The stars fell to their death" you find yourself hanging on to her every word; the way she delivers a lyric can enrich its meaning tenfold. Though her songs on Drawing Down the Moon are not surprising they are the kinds of songs she is incredibly good at crafting. Taylor, on the other hand, shines most when she steps slightly out of her shimmery indie pop comfort zone. "On and On Again" is as minimal as the album gets and the blankness of its canvas works greatly in its favor. When Taylor sings achingly in the chorus, with so little instrumentation beneath her it is practically non-existent, "I would give this a shot/If you would too/If you would too," that moment is utterly spine-tingling. Also spine-tingling is the whole of "Silver Sorrow," hazy, gauzy and gorgeous dream pop at its best. It is more built on harmony than melody and is, basically, just four minutes of the loveliest, smoothest vocals you can imagine. Then there's the closer, "Walking in Circles," which is short and sweet and drenched in melancholy and wouldn't sound out of place on one of Taylor's solo albums. Overall, Drawing Down the Moon is close to the best thing Azure Ray has ever done. I'm not sure if they have plans to go ahead with more music or if this is a one-off deal but, either way, this album is an essential addition to their body of work that I'm very glad they've made.
