Oh, me.

TOP ALBUMS OF 2011 

And so, we’ve reached the end of the year, and it’s time for the annual roundup of the year’s album. This year’s total number came out to 46, for some reason. We’ll be counting down the albums to number one this whole month.

14. Metals - Feist

Leslie Feist has to privilege of being an international superstar, to certain extent, and a lot of that has probably hurt her career as a well-established singer-songwriter. She took four years before releasing another album, this year’s Metals, and according to her, she didn’t even feel like playing during much of that time. And that kind of makes sense when you know her catalogue, and know how many iPods around the world are home to “1234” and nothing else. Feist is the perfect example of the new age one hit wonder: a incredibly talented musician somehow gets their song into the mainstream, and suffers because of it, because in the end, no one really wants to hear anything except for that one song. Which is a shame, because for my money, Metals is much better than both ”1234” and its album The Reminder. That album doesn’t flow as well as Metals does, and feels a bit like a dinner table that’s centerpiece is “1234,” whereas Metals feels like a complete piece that each part is vital to. It’s really a compliment to Feist’s career that she can put out something like this, and overall Metals soars where The Reminder and Let It Die fell: they weren’t really sure what Feist was. But Metals hits the nail right on the head, and fills you with both the expressive nature of Feist’s songs and the utter brilliance of their backwards melodies and meanings.

“How Come You Never Go There” was the original single of the album, which is probably a good notion to how the album goes. It doesn’t have the same punch as a “1234,” which is a good thing. But when you turn it up, it really feels closer to something you want to hear: it’s got an interesting title, it’s got a good background beat, and it’s got Feist’s beautiful voice to back it all (“You carry on as if I don’t love you,” she sings with confidence). The whole album is the slow, casual tone of this, however, and it’s on moments like the great “Graveyard” that you realize that just as Feist can like those calm songs, she can write ones that make you want to jump and scream just as much. “A Commotion” is another example, which strays from her usual style of song, letting yelps and howls become a part of the music, which is an experiment that works. Her juxtaposition between these types of songs and ones like “Bittersweet Melodies” is something that makes the album have the feel of a perfect mixtape, changing from slow to quick with ease. Feist doesn’t really give you much time worry about this, however, and maybe it’s her lyrical power that backs the whole album: unlike the other female songwriters out there, she’s got the talent to sing about things that really matter - the big picture, love, and everything you see. “Get It Wrong, Get It Right” might be the best example of this - it’s a bizarre ending to the album, but its a song that follows through the mundane actions in the beauty of nature before falling apart in Feist’s voice; it’s like a more effective version of “The Park,” which was already a very effective song. It’s hard to pick out the best tracks of the album, however, because it truly is one that seems to offer more and more as each song comes along, which is something that seems relatively new it Feist’s career.

Metals isn’t exactly what people were expecting from Feist, and that might be because so many of her fans aren’t really sure what to expect. The immediate disappointment of Metals was that it didn’t possess a “1234,” but the immediate pleasure of the album is that it doesn’t have to. For Feist, it should never really be about that one song, or that one music video from that one commercial. It should be about the big picture, just as her songs are and just as her themes are. What sets her apart from other artists isn’t those small moments that jump out at you, although their incredible - it’s the fact that overall you walk away with more of an understanding of her as an artist and more of an understanding of yourself. Feist’s albums have the capability to appeal to a large audience: she’s working in a medium that well-trodden territory, but she’s doing in it the most effective way possible. And so, even though Metals doesn’t have those Reminder moments that lackluster fans might love, it has so much more to offer, and so much more longevity that any one hit wonder could give us. 

13. Helplessness Blues - Fleet Foxes

One has to feel a little bad for Robin Pecknold and crew, because theoretically, Helplessness Blues should be the best album of 2011. I say Pecknold and company because in the end, Helplessness Blues is his album through and through, and the amount of effort and triumph put into it is something that isn’t accomplished by many other artists out there. This year, we tend to focus on Justin Vernon’s retreat to the woods to record Bon Iver or Christopher Owen’s unpacking his cult past to put out Father, Son, Holy Ghost, but the real star of the year is probably Pecknold, who puts so much into Helplessness Blues that it’s hard not to see it as his magnum opus. Coming off of 2008’s self-titled debut, Fleet Foxes really could have gone anyway; that album was a great one, with songs like “Oliver James” and “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song” being some of the best folk-rock tunes ever written, but something was missing from Fleet Foxes, and Helplessness Blues closes that gap, and much of that is thanks to Pecknold, who leaves nothing on behind on the album. From it’s opening moments, in which is realizes his place in the world in “Montezuma,” to the closing moments of the heavy but barren “Grown Ocean,” his brokenness resonates through the entire album. And that’s what really is the driving force of Helplessness Blues; I like to call to mind his breaking voice on “The Shrine/An Argument,” but it’s just as evident in songs like “Blue Spotted Tail,” which I’ve gone to in time of turmoil more than probably any other track. In a way, Helplessness Blues has been overlooked and should be higher on the list, even if it’s just for Pecknold’s accomplishment alone. Because in the end, the album stands alone as a turning point for Fleet Foxes, in how to be both a band rooted in the past and a band moving everything forward.

The album is like one long track, a “White Water Hymnal,” as it were. On the self-titled album, each song seems relatively contained, whereas here they all seem like part of one bigger song, moving you closer and closer to the loudness and emptiness of music as a whole, and one of the things that Fleet Foxes does so amazingly is that they can make this kind of statement while also making beautiful music. Probably what is so important about an album like Helplessness Blues is its honest and it’s rawness, which has become more and more seldom in the music scene. I draw comparisons to albums like Wish You Were Here, which demonstrate being both grow up and still childlike, being a moment of classic rock amazement while still maintaining a level of honest with the audience. On Helplessness Blues, there isn’t much that doesn’t seem like it’s supposed to mean something or do something to us, and the beauty of all that’s being done here is what really makes the album so great. And it isn’t until it’s all gone that you look back and realize what a piece of art this is, and how overlooked it will probably be. I mentioned in an earlier review of Helplessness Blues that the album has the potential to push Fleet Foxes into the popular music scene, but it also has the potential to destroy them, as people will overlook the intense sadness and joy present in an album like this. One can only hope that the beauty available here will be noticed, because even Pecknold alone presents something so precious alone, and Helplessness Blues is the immediate aftermath of the realization of that.