Songs for a Snowfall

We New Jerseyans and New Yorkers might get a foot of snow tomorrow, so what better time for a wintry playlist?  Let these excellent tunes accompany your shovelling, snowball fights, and/or (spiked?) hot chocolate drinking.  The snowy soundscapes presented here range sonically and emotionally, capturing the many paradoxes--stillness and movement, warmth and frigidity, renewal and death, love and despair, youth and experience--that winter embodies.  Enjoy, and stay warm!

1. Bon Iver - "Blood Bank." A song about falling in love in winter: And the snow started falling; we were stuck out in your car.  You were rubbing both my hands, chewing on a candy bar.

2. Bright Eyes - "Gold Mine Gutted." Beginning as a love story, this song ends by describing a lover's possibly fatal drug addiction: Only smoke came out our mouths on all those hooded-sweatshirt walks. ... All those white lines that sped us up; we hurry to our death.  Well, I lagged behind, so you got ahead.

3. Kanye West - "Street Lights." Whereas the other two of Kanye's "lights" songs ("All of the Lights," "Flashing Lights") are celebrations of his fame and success, "Street Lights" captures an isolated and despondent West, who turns a cab ride (in what feels to me like a snowy New York) into an existential journey: I know my destination, but I'm just not there.

4. LCD Soundsystem - "Someone Great." The song's cold, brooding, mechanical sounds epitomize not only LCD's album title, Sound of Silver, but also the numbness one feels after losing "someone great": There shouldn't be this ring of silence, but what are the options when someone great is gone?

5. Explosions in the Sky - "Snow and Lights." Moving from heavy snowstorms to light flurries back to a climactic blizzard, "Snow and Lights" lives up to evocative its title without saying a word.

6. Vampire Weekend - "Step."  (See the post below): They didn't know how to dress for the weather.  I can still see them there huddle on Astor: snow falling slow to the sound of the master.

7. Minus the Bear - "Hooray."  Describing a snowball fight and "warming on alcohol" in bars, "Hooray" celebrates youth--or acting youthfully--and the weather that brings out our joyful qualities: It's cold, and snow's actually on the ground of this no-snow town.  And instead of cars, streets [are] trafficking in sleds.  Men become boys again.

8. Crystal Castles (feat. Robert Smith) - "Not In Love."  Synths are ideal for capturing frigid sounds, but the sleety waves of synthesizers here are especially effective--and appropriate for Smith's unfeeling exclamation, "I'm not in love." 'Cause it's cold outside; when you coming home?  'Cause it's hot inside; isn't that enough?

9. Arcade Fire - "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)."  The imaginative opening lines from Arcade Fire's debut remain among the group's best poetry: And if the snow buries my neighborhood ... Climb out the chimney and meet me in the middle of the town.  And since there's no one else around, we let our hair grown long and forget all we used to know.  Then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.

10. The XX - "Shelter."  "Shelter" reminds me of watching snow fall from behind a pane of glass: the separation between coldness and warmth is thin.  This song's warm guitars and Croft's shaking, almost insecure voice shatter that barrier, allowing these conflicting feelings to coexist in an unsettling love song: I find shelter in this way: undercover, hideaway.

11. Bright Eyes - "Something Vague."  Conor Oberst epitomized so many of my adolescent winters that he gets to make two appearances here.  On what may be his angstiest, but also one of his finest, albums, a young Oberst quivers as he paints a sad portrait of an alcoholic: You see your breath in the air as you climb up the stairs to the coffin you call your apartment. And you sink in your chair, brushing snow from you hair, and drink the cold away.  And you're not really sure what you're doing this for, but you need something to fill up the days.

12. The Good Life - "A Golden Exit." The final song from The Good Life's Novena on a Nocturn represents both bitter ends (of relationships, even of life) and cathartic renewals: I can feel the chill in the air between us.  I can feel a winter coming; we're frozen in our stares.  ... I woke up this morning to the silence of falling snow.  These graces of beauty have left me so cold.

July Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.

The Summer of Yeezus continues.

Well, this is embarrassing.  Between vacation and catching up on all the things I haven't been able to do during the fall, spring, and summer semesters, I've apparently stopped documenting my music listening habits.  So this is the shortest mix I've offered yet, but I've been listening to a lot more than two artists this month: for instance, I discovered and immensely enjoyed Yo La Tengo's Painful, which makes the closing of Maxwell's sting even more (YLT regularly played there).  I also finally got my hands on the new My Bloody Valentine, which I'm not hating, and I revisited some of the excellent music of ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead before seeing them.  Trail of Dead marked my final show at Maxwell's, and I'm still reeling from the loss of the best venue North Jersey -- or all of New Jersey, even New York for that matter! -- will likely ever see again.  Sigh.  Anyway, here are some brief and scattered thoughts on the two songs that really caught my ear this month.

1. The Wonder Years - "Came Out Swinging."  I've confessed my penchant for pop-punk several times here, and I'm not going to defend it anymore.  It's definitely a take-it-or-leave-it genre, and I understand why people are turned off by the heart-on-sleeve vocals (which often dangerously verge on melodrama) and conventional instrumentals. But I can't deny a song as catchy and well-executed as The Wonder Years's "Came Out Swinging."  Sure, I've heard the fuzzy guitars, punky chants, and fast-paced drums time and time again, but the sheer energy of the song -- kicking off by announcing "Moved all my shit into my parent's basement!" -- outshines tracks with similar components.  And it isn't all just full-throttle noise, either; "Swinging" rises and falls tactfully, not to exploit dynamics for a big payoff but instead to capture the unstable emotions of the narrative: the band collectively takes a breather when Dan Campbell admits, "I'm running on empty / The late nights and the long drives start to get to me / I'm just so tired."  The song then speeds through a chorus that's both catchy and poignant (the best qualities of pop-punk, for sure), capped off by the poignant confession, "I'm not sure where home is anymore."  It's a relatable feeling for any mid-20er, not just for a guy perpetually on the road, and it makes the lyrics all the more endearing.  After the second chorus, the song reaches its climax with a glorious bridge that sounds like a heavier version of the Ataris's most gripping music: "I came out swinging from a South Philly basement, / Caked in stale beer and sweat under half-lit flourescents. / I spent the winter writing songs about getting better, / And, if I'm being honest, I'm getting there."  After taking listeners through the volatile instrumentals and pessimistic narrative of "Came Out Swinging," the hopeful, triumphant-sounding conclusion really just feels good.  Maybe it's not the most profound stuff I've ever listened to, but "Swinging" tells a compelling story and leaves me feeling happy, even refreshed by its end.  Who would ask for more?

  

2. Kanye West - "I'm in It."  Let's get this out of the way first: lyrically, this is Kanye's shoddiest solo album to date.  One can argue that that's the point: this album is supposed to be provocative and thus needs to sound, act, and feel unrefined.  I get that, and I appreciate it, but naysayers can rightfully point out that West wrote and recorded the vocals to the majority of these songs only days before the album was scheduled to be released.  This may have resulted in some serious clunkers appearing on the album that normally would've been eliminated by the smart and articulate rapper.  So I'm ambivalent towards a stupid and racist line like "Eating Asian pussy all I need is sweet and sour sauce."  It's unnecessary, especially from someone who bemoans white privilege in what he views as an inherently racist America.  I understand that Kanye may be willingly contradicting himself, and that makes this album both frustrating and intriguing lyrically.  But I can't say it doesn't diminish the quality of the songs (particularly when juxtaposed with diatribes like "Black Skinhead" and "New Slaves") and conflict the album's overall message.  I'm very much on the fence about these lyrics, as you can tell, but that's also part of the appeal of Yeezus: I want to keep listening to formulate an opinion.

Now, to the unbelievable architecture of this song.  It begins with a trance-like beat and various moaning voices, as Kanye half-talks and half-raps while the instrumentals swell behind him.  Finally, the drums burst, introducing Jamaican rapper Assassin's absolutely rabid rap, which steals the show.  Then, naturally, Justin Vernon and Kanye West weave in and out of the hook, with Vernon's high falsetto contrasting with Kanye's more monotone rap.  It's shocking to hear these disparate elements blend so seamlessly.  And the song carries on like this for nearly four minutes, capriciously switching personalities and genres.  Sandwiched between "Hold My Liquor" and "Blood on the Leaves," "I'm in It" stands at the center of some of Kanye's most experimental, genre-bending music to date, affirming Yeezus as the album to beat in 2013.  So far, nobody's even come close.

June Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.

1. Wavves - "Post-Acid." I really like Wavves' second album, but there are some moments where he needed to drop the Animal Collective impression and embrace a punkier aesthetic.  He does that brilliantly on "Post-Acid," a raucous anthem that demands headbanging, steering-wheel-drumming, and sing/shoutalongs. (I'm guilty of all three.)  Unlike the vulnerable "Beat Me Up" (see song #2), Williams sounds cold and even cruelly calloused here, as he confesses, "I'm just having fun with you."  But while Williams doesn't sound like the ideal friend (see here for evidence) or lover, he also refuses to sugarcoat or wallow in his flaws.  I find that commendable.  When evaluating Wavves, and also Kanye (see below), moral and aesthetic judgments do not necessarily hold equal weight, and I think it's a testament to the power of art when we, as listeners, suspend or reconsider our values.

2. Wavves -  "Beat Me Up."  Woah, the chorus on this.  It's like grunge visits the beach -- Seattle meets SoCal.  The handclaps recall early Beach Boys but the drawling, echoey vocals and fuzzy guitars are much more rooted in 90s alternative rocks.  Surprisingly, Wavves blends these seemingly disparate genres in one up-tempo, self-deprecating summer jam.  Lyrically, it's simplistic, sincere, and morbidly funny: "Do you really think I easily bruise? / Or do you have a smoke that I could borrow? / I just wanna spend some time with you... / Or you could beat me up." For such a short song, "Beat Me Up" surprisingly hasn't lost it's staying power after a month of nonstop listens.  I feel confident labeling it one of the best songs of 2013.

3. Wavves - "Green Eyes."  The summer of Wavves continues!  I have distinct memories with each of these songs: I played "Post-Acid" while driving to and from Topps' diner, screaming "I'm juuuust having fun... with you-ou-ou-ooouuu"; "Beat Me Up" repeatedly on a vomit-filled NJ transit bus, eagerly awaiting my arrival to Corey/Ryan/James/Tori's house; and "Green Eyes" while driving to Annie's, navigating through traffic on 95 (what a surprise).  On "Green Eyes," Williams layers on the self-deprecation: "I try running away / I'm just not fast enough"; "My own friends hate me"; "I try staying awake / I'm just not man enough"; and "I would try and understand / That I'm to blame / 'Cause I'm so lame."  Despite all this, though, he never lets his miseries detract from the summery instrumentals.  With layers of guitars, catchy percussion, and xylophones, I guess it's hard to wallow -- much easier to sing along, shouting your own failures with Williams, or just being happy knowing you're in a much better place.

4. The Menzingers - "Mexican Guitars."  I gotta say, when I started listening to the Menzingers, I did not expect heartbreaking, beautiful, nostalgic poetry.  I was happy just to find a band that could pull off a more mature version of pop-punk than the stuff I listened to 8-9 years ago.  But wow, this song is stunning.  The singer (I'm unsure of his name) recollects his memories with an "old friend," from their drinking on porch steps to learning songs on Mexican guitars.  We never learn what ruined this relationship, but even as the singer describes leaving town "to wander around the world for a little bit," he cannot escape "the memory in the back of [his] head": "I'm on cruise control and the radio was on / Yeah, they were playing that song / That we both learned on our Mexican guitars . . . / You were my old friend." The song devastatingly ends the way it begins, only changing the indefinite article "you were an old friend" to the more intimate possessive pronoun "you were my old friend."  As the song comes full-circle lyrically, we're reminded that there is no transcendence here, only a heightened feeling of despair and loss punctuated by mournful guitars and throat-shredding vocals.

5. Deafheaven - "Dream House."  I don't ever really listen to metal, but I was lucky enough to find this on Spin's top 40 songs of 2013.  I used the playlist as jogging music, but found it mostly filled with sucky rap and hip-hop.  Just when I was about to write it off for good, a surge of shoegazey guitars flooded my headphones; finally, I thought, something to run to!  But I was quickly in awe when the curdling black metal vocals and relentlessly heavy drums emerged.  I've never heard anything so colorful and textured yet also so incredibly heavy and frigid.  And the song kept going and going: sunny guitars glimmering and rising to explosive levels while icy vocals angrily crackle.   Six minutes in, the song finally seemed to come to a close, but it was only the band manipulating loud/soft dynamics -- insisting that metal does not need to be incessantly heavy to be effective.  The song re-emerged with a blistering crescendo, as winding guitars seared through fuzzy feedback and drums escalated in a slow but commanding breakdown.  I'm still completely fascinated and inspired by this unbelievable hybrid of a song, and I'm glad to see it's getting the hype it deserves.

6. The Drums - "Days."  Sorry to the Drums, but they're totally the outlier on this mix.  Their Real Estate-sque brand of chimey guitars and breezy vocals were a nice addition to my summer commutes/workouts, but they don't gel with the rest of these songs.  Oh well.  I think that the band sounds like a sunnier version of the XX's nocturnal melodies, though their lyrics are actually much bleaker: "Days go by, and I never needed you."

7. Kanye West - "Hold My Liquor."  In stark contrast to the visceral, minimalistic diatribes that open Kanye's Yeezus, "Hold My Liquor" begins subdued and introspectively, with an auto-tuned Bon Iver somberly gurgling "I can hold my liquor."  This just gets things started on what proves to be a volatile and ornately crafted song.  Keys begin to tap quietly over cloudy ambient noise, as an autotuned Chief Keef admits, after inhaling what sounds like weed, "I can't handle no liquor."  Then Kanye emerges, rapping with conviction over two beats: one brake-screeching and the other effervescent electronics.  Despite his seriousness, he still finds room for comedy--"Slightly scratched your Corolla / Okay, I smashed your Corolla"-- though overall the subject matter is digressive [the lyrics overall on this album are often more provocative than profound].  The architecture of this song, however, is absolutely stunning, totally unlike anything I've ever heard before on a rap album (though that genre now seems too restrictive for what Kanye's creating here). For instance, after Kanye's long verse, he interpolates some robotic vocal on the bridge, which blends with Justin Vernon's auto-tuned falsetto and baritone.  This incredibly moody moment lasts only for a few seconds, as we're brought to Chief Keef's heavier hook again, which seems to direct us towards the climax -- only instead the volume completely fades.  Next on this musical rollercoaster, Bon Iver again delivers an emotionally potent mix of auto-tuned falsetto and baritone with nearly no instrumental accompaniment.  This finally leads to the song's purely instrumental climax, featuring layers of synths and guitars that sound more fitting on Pink Floyd's Animals or Wish You Were Here than on a rap album, no matter how experimental.  And exhale!  "Hold My Liquor" is such a genre-bender of a song, and Kanye makes it seem so effortless. [Note to Kanye: you need to create an LP with Bon Iver. Every song you've released with him thus far has been phenomenal ("Monster," "Lost in the World," "Hold My Liquor," "I'm In It").]

8. Kanye West - "Blood on the Leaves."  When I saw Yeezus was streaming, I decided to give it my undivided attention.  So I went in my room, put on headphones, and laid on my bed listening. [Note to self: please do this more often; this is how you learned to love music; why'd you stop?]  I was a little afraid of the album after opener "On Sight," which basks in its hideousness, but became more and more enamored as I soared through songs like "New Slaves" and "Hold My Liquor."  But "Blood on the Leaves" left me completely stunned.  When that massive, brassy beat finally drops, a smile ran across my face.  I couldn't take it off.  In fact, I'm still in awe of this.  Kanye sounds absolutely incensed, tearing through the fourth verse with furious conviction.  And the sample of Nina Simone's "Strange Fruit" is stunning.  I don't think Kanye for a second equates his relationship issues with the lynchings of slaves, but I do think  Kanye feels like a "new slave" to materialism ("single black female / addicted to retail," he sung years ago on "All Falls Down"), women, drugs, and corporate execs.  He also certainly enjoys the provocation of the sample.  There's so much more to say about this, but I'll save it for another time.  I think it easily cracks the top 3 songs of the year.

Halfway through 2013-- best songs thus far

One song per artist, starting with my favorite and working down in somewhat of an order.   I'll post May's mixtape once I make substantial progress on this final paper...

February Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.

This is unfortunately half-assed because there are too many songs this month and, surprise, surprise, I'm overloaded with work.

1. Elliott Smith - "Between the Bars."   For some reason, I always imagined prison bars when Elliott sings "I'll kiss you again / between the bars," but I recently discovered the more obvious image of the song: drunken kissing while walking from bar(/tavern) to bar.  Yet, unsurprising for an Elliott song, there are several layers to this line, like the musical pun: a kiss between the bars of the music.  Elliott's music is often about himself, and I suppose all three of these images (self-entrapment, like the awesome Arcade Fire song; alcohol-induced romance; and singing/songwriting) can be read self-referentially. I also forgot how wonderful this song is, how Elliott can sound both angelic and damned at the same time.

Top Albums of 2011, 11-6

11.  Bright Eyes - The People's Key.  After a very uneven 2007 release in "Cassadaga" and a 4-year hiatus, Bright Eyes return with a surprisingly solid album, given how spotty Oberst's side projects had been.  Oberst really sings on "The People's Key," sounding as confident as ever -- and for good reason: his lyrics, though now much more abstract than emotional, remain some of the best of our generation, and his voice has developed so he can now harmonize better than ever.  Moreover, after the grandiose "Cassadaga," Mike Mogis displays some much-needed restraint in the studio, focusing more on melodies than worldly soundscapes.  What follows are some of the catchiest songs Oberst's ever produced, with "Beginner's Mind" perhaps his band's greatest triumph.  "The People's Key" may conclude Bright Eyes' stellar, near-15 year catalog, and, if that's the case, Oberst ends his inspirational, prolific, and influential project on a high note.

10.  Kanye West and Jay-Z - Watch the Throne.  I have a major problem with songs "featuring" other artists.  I feel that more often than not the meaning of the song is compromised when another person adds in his/her verse.  Often when the featured guest tries to stay on the song's theme, he/she oversimplifies it or drops a cheesy metaphor to ruin the listening experience (see: Young Jeezy in Drake's "Unforgettable" or Lil Wayne in Drake's "The Real Her" for examples).  But when Kanye and Jay Z, two of the biggest names in the music industry, recorded "Watch the Throne" together, I was intrigued, albeit a little skeptical.  When I listened to the album, though, I heard a collection of loud, witty, brilliantly produced songs that seemed like neither Ye's nor Jay's individual work, but something that melded their two styles together: it was distinctly theirs.  You know its Kanye and Jay on radio hits "Ni***as in Paris" and "Otis," but you can also tell the songs come from "Watch the Throne:" Jay motivates Kanye to rap harder than ever, while Kanye challenges Jay's recent lyrical/instrumental complacency.  Besides being able to hear two prolific artists changing their style to make something great, it was most enjoyable to hear Ye and Jay competing with each other, ricocheting lines off each other in "Otis" or even trying to be the most introspective and, surprisingly,  vulnerable on "New Day."  Perhaps after accomplishing so many individual accolades, Jay and Ye needed to record together for inspiration.  Kanye and Jay seem to not only encourage but also to threaten one another; these guys have always been known for both their egotism and paranoia ("they want me dead," Jay admits on "Why I Love You"), so it's not inconceivable that the rappers are watching each other to protect his (however imagined) throne atop the rap/hip-hop world.

9.  Frank Ocean - Nostalgia, Ultra.  I actually wrote my first blog post on Frank Ocean's "There Will Be Tears," the ninth track off his debut mixtape.  I discussed Ocean's heart-on-sleeve honesty and poetic craftsmanship, which surprised me knowing his affiliation with Odd Future.  That basically can sum up this amazing, surprisingly endearing mixtape, as Ocean's lyrical craft and impressive ear for beats make "Nostalgia" a thoroughly enjoyable listen.  True to its title, Ocean's mixtape encompasses a wide range of feelings: the happiness, sadness, jealousy, anger, naivete, lust, and heartbreak we can vividly remember from our past.  Nostalgia emerges in the first track, where Ocean re-imagines Coldplay's "Strawberry Swing" to sing about lost love and youth during war: "When we were kids / We handpainted strawberries on a swing / Every moment was so precious then / I'm still kicking / I'm daydreaming on a strawberry swing."  That's pretty much the poem I tried to write throughout high school--it both annoys and amazes me how Ocean perfects the poetic imagery and emotions I've been searching for in five lines.

The album's nostalgia persists throughout: even the instrumental tracks, which are mainly the clicking and hissing of cassettes, are named for old NES video games.  Yet the distant past also becomes an immediate future; Ocean accesses his memories to make something timely (or timeless) and real, like on the poignant opener.  Additionally, Ocean samples instrumentals like "Strawberry Swing," "There Will Be Tears," and MGMT's "Electric Feel" to reinvent them--taking from the sometimes very distant past to create something uniquely his own.  Never does this become more apparent than of "American Wedding," which borrows from the Eagles's "Hotel California."  Ocean details a young lust/love and hasty divorce, concluding, "It's an American wedding; / They don't mean too much. ...We had an American wedding / Now what's mine is yours, American divorce."  Ocean continues by begging, "Don't break my heart / This wedding ring won't ever wipe off," only to admit: "But if you stay, girl if you stay / You'll probably leave later anyway / It's love made in the U.S.A."  Once Ocean's disillusion peaks, the guitar solos begin, sounding as if they were written for this exact moment.  The song no longer feels like a cover or a borrowed instrumental; it becomes Frank Ocean's--a remarkable feat for a song whose instrumentals are firmly planted in the rock-n-roll canon.

Ocean's original work is just as compelling; the gritty beat of "Novacane" and ominous piano and bass on "Lovecrimes" mark some of the album's standouts.  "Swim Good" is my newest favorite; there's a sense of urgency to it although the song doesn't seem to try to sound overly urgent, even as Ocean threatens "to drive in(to) the ocean."  It's hard to describe.  Ocean's music simply has many natural qualities to it.  When music is this honest, nothing feels forced.

8.  The Weeknd - Echoes of Silence.  The third mixtape released this year by the mysterious R&B artist, The Weeknd, dropped only a few days before Christmas, so I haven't had a lot of time to digest it all yet.  Which is probably a good thing: this collection contains the grimmest tales the Weeknd has told yet--not exactly ideal for getting into the holiday spirit.  Look no further than "Initiation," where the Weeknd's falsetto croons devolve into deranged, goblin whispers, which maliciously inform a drugged-up girl: "I got a test for you / Baby, you can have my heart / There's just something that I need from you / Is to meet my boys."  Pitchfork claims the song is about gang-rape, which doesn't seem all too farfetched, considering the song's violent, propulsive beat.  What is most disturbing is the song's catchiness despite its violence and cruelty; it seems perfectly appropriate for an insatiably voyeuristic American audience, which overlooks (or stampedes) morality/ethics to pry into the lives of celebrities.  We make nobodys into celebrities just to know everything about them (see: Jersey Shore) and we love to watch people fall.  The Weeknd appeals to these American vultures, first showing us the idealized party that mainstream music glorifies, then dragging us to the reality of O/Ds, false love, and the most intense suffering--showing us all the steps that lead to "the fall."

There's so much more to say about this album: its lyrical and musical cohesion, its place in the trilogy of mixtapes, and the freakin' perfect cover of Michael Jackson's "Dirty Diana."  This is quickly emerging as my favorite Weeknd album, but since I'm supplementing this information in January, I will leave my rank as is. 
 
7. Real Estate - Days.  It seems trendy and hipsterish to pick P4K's BNM's "Days," but as soon as I heard the pensive chimes and washed-out reverb on opener "Easy," I became hooked on Real Estate's breezy sound.  NJ's Real Estate have what I always considered to be an "indie" sound: moody, often brooding pop that is simplistic but meaningful.  Why I had such a precise definition of one of the most amorphous genres around today is beyond me, but hearing RE's music brought me back to "easier" listening "days" when I was first discovering independent music and hearing sounds I seemed to be searching for all my life.  Some journalists are trying to sell bullshit about how RE's music is Springsteen-esque--that it captures some NJ ethos.  But that's not really the appeal to this music (hell, I live in Jersey and don't hear a Jersey sound or influence).  What is great about "Days," though, is its cool, laid-back simplicity; you can easily get lost in the sprawling guitars and low-key vocals or you can bang out the drum beat to "It's Real."  Real Estate doesn't seem to want to fit in with the lo-fi, SO-CAL "chillwave" movement that's trending on indie blogs; their music, much like Frank Ocean's, seems to just flow naturally without trying to conform to a style or trend.  It's genuine and unadorned music--or, simply, "it's real."

6. The Antlers - Burst Apart.  After seeing them nearly steal the show while opening for Explosions in the Sky, I knew I needed to devote some serious listening time to the Antlers's newest album.  While it doesn't live up to their live experience, where the group lets their songs flow into long but tight jams, "Burst Apart" presents some of the richest musical tapestries I've heard in a long time.  The group's large dynamics and haunting vocals on "No Windows" and "Parentheses" stand out as exemplars.  And when the band chooses minimalism on the closer "Putting the Dog to Sleep," the staccato guitar strikes end the album on an emotional high, as the dog-imagery throughout the album culminates in the painful lines, "Prove to me  I'm not gonna die alone... / Don't lie to me, if you're putting the dog to sleep."  I've listened to this album dozens of times and I'm just starting to unravel the lyrics; it's so easy to get absorbed in the album's soundscapes, paired with its impeccable pacing, that it almost makes the group's acerbic lyrics an afterthought.  Which is great: an album this good should require dozens of spins, and constantly finding/hearing new things make the experience all the more enjoyable.