—I Don't Want Love
TOP ALBUMS OF 2011
And so, we’ve reached the year of the year, and it’s time for the annual roundup of the year’s albums. 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.
6. Diaper Island - Chad VanGaalen
At times, it seems like Chad VanGaalen really, really doesn’t want you to like his latest album. First of all, it’s entitled Diaper Island, which is about as off-putting a name as you can create, especially when the album makes no reference to this location anywhere in its twelve tracks. Then there’s the closing track “Shave My Pussy,” which feels like almost a joke until you hear it – and there’s the lyrical elements that at times are more vulgar than you’d expect from VanGaalen; for example, in “Blonde Hash,” he screams, “…it’s shooting out from in-between her thighs.” All of this is a quite a departure for VanGaalen, whose earlier work suggests a more lonesome appeal – and this album, when you finally let go of these original aspects, is relatively the same. There’s a stark difference between his debut Infiniheart, and even a larger difference from Skelliconnection, despite reoccurring themes throughout all such as album artwork and VanGaalen’s patented high-pitched voice. Soft Airplane harkens a lot closer to Diaper Island in both length and appeal – they both feature a level of electronic work, long winded moments that seem to fade in and out of composure, and that same loneliness that embarks on all of VanGaalen’s albums.
Loneliness and emptiness seems like a theme that VanGaalen likes to play with, and for good reason. Even on Infiniheart, an essential collection of VanGaalen’s early works, there’s a level of this on songs like “The Warp Zone/Hidden Bridge” and “I Miss You Like I Miss You,” and this was clarified in Skelliconnection, which is probably VanGaalen’s best work. Skelliconnection was probably a little bit too lengthy, but it had elements that we wanted to hear, like the opening “Flower Gardens,” the eerie “Wing Finger,” and the closing “Dead Ends” and “Sleep Me 2 Sleep,” which I would consider VanGaalen’s greatest accomplishments. However, Skelliconnection was exhausting, and Soft Airplane put him into a league of creating an actual album from start to finish, perhaps more so than Diaper Island does. That album had its annoying moments, but it came closer to what VanGaalen wanted, and Diaper Island seems to be a clarification even more so of that theme he’s been searching for. And it hits pretty close.
There are obvious homages to Women here, the Chad VanGaalen produced group whose latest album Public Strain rides close to this album, which was one of the original fears I had for Diaper Island. The grainy guitars are here, especially in the opening three tracks, but after that we get a little bit more into his style and he shies away from this comparison. “Do Not Fear” is VanGaalen’s best opener since “Flower Gardens,” which is saying a lot considering how good “Willow Tree” was. And “Peace On The Rise,” is that aimlessness track we’ve been waiting for, the quintessential VanGaalen piece for any new listener. And once that can be appreciated, the rest of the album pretty much falls into place. “Burning Photographs” and “Heavy Stones” compliment each other incredibly well, both lyrically and instrumentally – the former being a louder track, and the latter being a more reflective one. And then, of course, there’s “Sara,” which I might say is VanGaalen’s best ever: it’s an incredible sad piece, honed in on one woman, apparently, and as we here him sing into infinity, “Sara, wake me up when you’re home,” we feel more in touch with VanGaalen than we ever have. And this whole track, if not anything else, is a reference to how far he’s come – this wouldn’t have been possible four records ago, and it might not be possible again. The apathy we feel here is something new for VanGaalen, and if it’s truly a different piece, then he absolutely blew it out of the water. I have no qualms with calling it maybe the best track of the year.
“Replace Me” falls pretty close to a louder, angry VanGaalen song, while “Blonde Hash” is another album gem – a rugged piece that is probably the second best of the album; the way it builds and echoes is insanely addictive. The album quiets after these tracks, which is probably a good thing, for VanGaalen is learning that on an album, we don’t need sixteen tracks to feel tired and accomplished. This all culminates on “No Panic/No Heat,” which is an ode to the struggle we’ve all felt and how satisfied we are. However, if this were the album end, we’d be left wondering what is next, and that’s where “Shave My Pussy” comes in. Sure, it’s a song that makes little sense, but then again, much of what VanGaalen does doesn’t make sense. The lyrics are just as amazing as the little tune: “Her credit card was worn out, embarrassment at the checkout, all she needed was some honey, the lineup was getting impatient” – it doesn’t exactly fit the melody or really fit anything, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s by far the best album closer VanGaalen has produced, even better than “Sing Me 2 Sleep,” which despite being a better song, doesn’t leave us feeling the way VanGaalen wants us to feel – we get that loneliness and emptiness, but not what to do with it. “Shave My Pussy” is closer to that, the acceptance of what VanGaalen knows to be true. And maybe that’s why it is a shocker of a title, because in the end, it’s just as much a mystery as it is beautiful. Diaper Island is another Chad VanGaalen album, yes, but as VanGaalen progresses further and further into his career, he gets closer to uncovering what this music is, and his latest provides us with not only many amazing tracks, but also the comfort of the loneliness he provides.
5. Burst Apart - The Antlers
I’ve talked a lot about maturity within albums this year, and the differences between a sophomoric album and one by a fully-formed band - and probably the staple of this statement is The Antlers’ Burst Apart. There’s a comfortably from the immediate start of the album that just sinks into your skin, and it’s very telling of what kind of band The Antlers are - they’re comfortable with what’s going on. That can really only come from the hardship and pain expressed in their second album Hospice, which for its part is probably one of the most beautifully tragic albums ever released - and the road back to regular music has been one that was most likely hard. That album told a story, one that was somewhat autobiographical about lead singer Peter Silberman - but whether it is a true story or not, the emotion expressed behind the darkest moments of that album has to be true. That’s why at first Burst Apart feels a bit strange, because it doesn’t have an intro and an epilogue like Hospice did, or a reoccurring theme - an immediate one at least. What it does have, however, is a power behind it that is comfortable: a mature album from a mature band that’s been through enough just to make beautiful music like this now. Sure, there’s still all that emotion and feeling behind the album, but its cooled to the point of transmission to the general public that knows what it’s like out there, and can connect with Antlers because of it. You hear it almost immediately on “I Don’t Want Love,” which borrows its slow opening from Hospice, but explodes into in the march that is the track, with Silberman’s voice pioneering the way: “You want to climb up the stairs, I want to push you back down… I don’t want love,” he sings, before letting his voice surge forward, as it also does on “Rolled Together” - especially the version down with Neon Indian. When you hear him talk about the album, he referenced sex that doesn’t matter, drugs that don’t matter, and pretty much everything else that doesn’t matter. Those are heavy subjects, and relatively immature ones, and yet Antlers deals with it in a way that makes it all seem more relatable - like on “French Exit,” where we get lines like, “Everytime I speak, you are spitting in my mouth…” What this means, I have no idea, except you can glean just about everything it means from how its told to you.
There are elements to the album that prove as dark as Hospice, and that’s probably due to the songwriting and new electronic structure that Silberman and company have adopted on tracks like “No Parenthesis,” where you kind of have to let go of the fact that it doesn’t sound like “Two” or “Bear,” but is a lot closer to comfort than Antlers used to be. “No Widows” does the same thing, despite being a bit scary in its departure - and annoying as the repetition of “Rolled Together” is at first, it’s probably one the Antlers’ best tracks, just because its capable of harnessing all the power within the band and releasing it in a way that doesn’t have to come across as too much. Probably the best track on the album, however, with maybe the exception of “I Don’t Want Love,” is “Hounds,” which finds itself in perfect formation in the album, a point where you feel lost in the doorway that is the album’s artwork and even more lost in the beauty of the track. And maybe it’s Silberman’s high-pitched voice, and the overlapping that takes place, or maybe its just because this is where Antlers is most mature, and it just feels so right.
Songs like “Every Night My Teeth Are Falling Out,” however, are more of a challenge, just because they offer us the turmoil going on inside Silberman’s mind more than any other track. It’s not necessarily a band thing - in fact, it’s a big step for the group, but it catches us on edge midway through the album, and maybe that’s what Antlers do best: they can produce an album that is both calming and alarming at the same time. And it’s the ending moments of “Putting The Dog To Sleep” that really hit home, tired out by the strength of the album and conformity it produces to comfort. I’ve probably listened to Burst Apart during the most quieting moments of the year, at two, three, four a.m., just because it has that effect that both feels like its too late and too early. And Burst Apart as a whole exudes all of that both on first listen and second listen and so on. It’s the most mature album of the year, and at the same time maybe the album that offers the most in the most mysterious way possible. It’s what made Antlers as a whole so appealing then and makes it so appealing now - and definitely will in the future.
