Normally I try to live up to the sunnier side of my nickname and focus on the positives here in lieu of the sarcastic side and its shadows, but as I’ve spent the better part of the last three weeks watching my Cubs self-destruct (losing 13 of the last 19 to almost certainly torpedo their post-season chances), the Bears continuing a year-long tradition NO one in town thinks is wise (losing thirteen in a row with a possible fourteenth in line tomorrow, as they’re somehow underdogs AT HOME to a team that just got lit up for 70 points), and work remaining an almost perpetual infuriation (bringing flashbacks to the 12-14 hour daily dances with the DPM when I worked for Uncle Sam) I’m struggling to fulfill that goal a bit. As such I thought I’d take a moment to dip into the darkness, engaging a string of recent albums from artists I normally love that’ve been a bit disappointing to highlight the bright spots and try and drag things back into the light. After all, there are still two games left for the Cubbies — and fourteen for the Bears! — so you never know what’s going to happen. Who knows, maybe even work can turn things around after nearly four years of momentum and certain people’s perpetual prickishness/stupidity. NOTHING’s impossible, after all — or I’m not Bobby Sunshine!
We’ll start simply — with bands whose stuff I’ve enjoyed over the years, but who don’t have as much material under their belts as the others — before diving into the deeper cuts (both in terms of catalogs and subsequent wounds). First up comes the latest from Boy and Bear, the Aussie band whose first two albums (2011’s Moonfire and 2013’s Harlequin Dream) won me over before their next two committed the dreaded Sunshine Sin and amped up the synthesizers. (Thankfully not on every song, just enough to buck me off the bandwagon.) The new one continues that trend some, sprinkling that slick 80s feel in more than I care for, but there are a few tracks that still caught my ear — the opening “Strange World” and the bouncy “Silver Moon.” Both sport some catchy little riffs and frontman Dave Hosking’s voice remains as warm and inviting as ever (the former even surpasses the knock of a little synth!) Check out the duo here:
Next comes a duo of dancers — or what used to be acts that inspired said activity — and a pair of pairs, both of which beam in from Britain. The first is the relative newcomer Jungle, back with their fourth album, Volcano. (Their last, 2021’s Loving in Stereo, landed at #16 on my year-end list.) Despite the fiery name, the thought that most comes to mind for this one is “remarkably unremarkable” — the songs, while pleasant enough, sound so similar to one another that they all sort of run into one another after awhile. This unfortunately is something that has plagued the band before — their sophomore album For Ever was also an uneven disappointment after their exciting debut — but I’d thought they’d recaptured the magic after their last outing. Unfortunately not (maybe this is just an on/off band who alternates albums every other time), but there were fittingly two tracks that stuck out to me — the buoyant “Candle Flame” and the bright “PROBLEMZ,” which sounds like a Caribbean disco. They both stand out amongst the otherwise underwhelming remainder — give em both a spin here:
Next comes the latest from the legendary Chemical Brothers, back with the tenth album of their illustrious career. And while the boys can almost always be counted on to boost the mood and raise the temperature of whatever room they’re playing in, this one feels much more muted in its impact. Almost every Chems album plays like a mixtape or DJ set in miniature — slowly building you to a series of climaxes before ultimately setting you on your way with a nice, soft landing. (Their last landed at #12 on my 2019 list.) This one feels more like an extended session from the tail end of one of those sets, though, largely keeping things subdued and serene, like a nice long cooldown after a leisurely jog. There’s hardly any vocals and scarcely a single celebrity (Beck, who adds some croons to his tune towards the album’s end, being the sole anomaly) and while what’s here is the typically well-made music you’d expect from someone doing this for nearly thirty years, it lacks the punch of their more memorable material. That said there were a trio of tracks I thought were reminiscent of their old glory and possible harbingers of the album kicking into a higher gear — “No Reason” with its tribal drum breakdown at the end, “The Weight” with its “Block Rocking Beats” style bass, and “Feels Like I Am Dreaming” with its jittery “Under the Influence” style squelches — but they never really erupted into a characteristic explosion, more serving as momentary exclamation points before settling back into the soothing post-run stretch. Still worth giving them a listen, though — cue em up here:
Batting fourth are New York’s Woods, back with their eleventh album Perennial, their first since 2020’s Strange to Explain, which landed at #13 on that year’s list. This one finds them mining similar territory — toggling between pastoral homestead and spaced out dreamscape, as I wrote then — but this time the balance isn’t as sharp and the album suffers as a result. Here they veer more towards the latter with a series of instrumentals and songs that essentially are, sporting the barest of vocals before dropping back into the groove. As a result they (and the album) never quite take off, squandering the momentum generated by the more “traditional” songs, which are quite good. “Between the Past” has that blissed out hypercolor vibe the band’s best songs often evoke, while “Sip of Happiness” and “Weep” have a slightly darker sense of propulsion that’s equally irresistible. They definitely sparkle against their otherwise nondescript surroundings and leave you wishing there was more like them — see what you think here:
Fittingly up fifth is Austin’s Shakey Graves, who recently released his fifth album overall and his first in five years, Movie of the Week. (His last was 2018’s equally disappointing Can’t Wake Up.) As I recently wrote on the ‘Gram I was 50/50 on the tracks he’d released thus far — the excellent “Ready or Not” and the gonzo drum freakout of “Playing Along” being two distinct faves — and sadly that ratio has largely stayed the same upon listening to the full album. Graves is still spending more of his time with his more modern sounding music — which could, in fact, lend itself nicely to the soundtrack of various movies or TV shows, as the title seemingly implies: it’s pleasant, it’s innocuous, and it’s almost tailor-made to be the secondary focus of whatever scene it’s supporting.
There’s none of the emotional fire and potency that propelled so much of his earlier material — when it was just him onstage with his acoustic and suitcase kick drum. Strangely the more musicians Graves has surrounded himself with (he now tours with a five piece supporting him), the more diluted and disconnected his music has become. This is a tremendous disappointment, as he was one of my favorite discoveries of the past decade, sounding like some unearthed treasure from a time capsule or tomb. (He made my anniversary list for the best albums of the past 15 and has made the year-end list several times, most recently in 2017.) There’s still glimmers of that past, but they’re sadly becoming more of a rarity, so we’re left to savor those scant glimpses when we get them. In addition to the previous two songs posted on the ‘Gram, I also enjoyed “Evergreen” and “Century City,” which are actually much more in line with his recent material (at least the latter), but catchy nonetheless. See what you think here:
Last comes the latest from the National — a band that used to be one of my absolute faves, but one that has lost a lot of its luster in recent years. Five, ten years ago hearing that I’d get not one, but TWO albums from this band in a six month period would have been enough to send me into the stratosphere — Boxer remains one of my top shelf, close to the heart listens and Alligator isn’t far behind, and the guys have made my annual lists several times since then. (They last did so in 2017 with Sleep Well Beast, which landed at #9.)
Unfortunately they seem to have lost their way recently — the first signs of danger were when they did the typical veteran rock band thing and invited a bunch of guest musicians in to spark some new ideas on their previous album (the flurry of female vocalists from 2019’s disappointing I Am Easy to Find). The fact they did so again for this year’s outings only furthered the concern, broadening it to both genders this time with the likes of Bon Iver, Sufjan Stevens, Taylor Swift, and Phoebe Bridgers showing up. And despite some solid efforts by those artists, what’s left is less than you’d expect from all that firepower — songs feel somewhat diminished and diffuse in their impact and almost as easily forgotten.
I struggled with the first album a lot this year — more than almost any other so far — in part because guitarists Aaron and Bryce Dessner contribute some of their best work in years. The riffs on songs like “Eucalyptus,” “Tropic Morning News,” and “Grease in your Hair” all soar and immediately draw you in. Unfortunately frontman Matt Berninger’s lyrics and his croaky delivery all too often counteract those elements and grate. Berninger has been known to be somewhat cryptic before, however here his choices are esoteric to the point of being exclusionary. Mentions of tangerine perfume, Japanese novelty bongs, talking to sharks in a Kentucky aquarium, and water balloon eyes seem deliberately inscrutable and sap the songs of their relatability by being too specific. Before it didn’t matter where the nearest city middle was (the one where they hang the lights), you just knew you wanted to go there (maybe looking for astronauts or the geese of Beverly Road on the way.) Now Berninger — potentially in an attempt to shake the writer’s block he said he’s had for several years — seems to have overcorrected, bearing down on details to the point that he’s left with an audience of one. Gone is the slightly fuzzy universality of his most affecting, emotional stuff, where you might not understand everything he referenced but could easily find something comparable from your experience or share the feelings he exuded in his delivery. Now the pictures he paints feel superficial in spite of the precision and unnecessarily narrow, draining them of a much broader appeal and impact.
And yet I keep coming back, unable to fully shake it — just like the aforementioned teams at the top. Maybe this bodes well for them — if I can come around on these albums, finding positives amidst a pool of problems, maybe they can too for? Probably not (at least not for the Cubbies — time’s just too short at this point), but it’s worth a shot. Maybe once the dust has settled we’ll find a few more highlights to hold onto for next season. (Or the next listen.) Either way, check out a few of my favorites from the two albums — “Once Upon a Poolside,” “New Order T-shirt,” and “Deep End (Paul’s in Pieces).” Give all three a listen here:
That’s all for now, my friends…
–BS
15. Tre Burt — Caught it From the Rye / Gerry Cinnamon — The Bonny: this slot’s for a couple of harmonica-wielding first timers, one a soothing folkster from Sacramento, the other a full throated belter from the highlands. Starting with the former, I 
As for Mr Cinnamon, I 
14. Catholic Action — Celebrated by Strangers / Silverbacks — Fad / Idles — Ultra Mono: we’ll keep the trend of the previous slot going, both in terms of first-time entrants for the year-end list and hailing from the UK. (We’ve got three quarters covered — you gotta want it, Wales…) We’ll start where we ended with another batch of Scotsmen (Glaswegians to boot) and the sophomore album from Catholic Action. 
Speaking of moving, we’ll shift to the emerald isle for another buoyant affair, this time the full-length debut from Irish five piece Silverbacks. I’ve written about these guys 
Hitting with the proverbial power of said locomotive comes the final member of this slot, British punk band Idles. Here for the first time with their third album, Ultra Mono, this was one of the rare releases to address the endless outrages swirling around us this year, from racial injustice to gentrification, gropey guys, and more. You can argue with the lyrical effectiveness of the attacks, which alternate between nonsensical word collages and simple sloganeering (and whether this is deliberately done tongue in cheek as suggested in songs like “Mr Motivator” and “The Lover” or inadvertently remains at best unclear if not wholly beside the point). What you cannot deny, though, is the power and catchiness of the songs, which have always been the band’s strong suit. Part Jesus Lizard war machine, part vintage British punks, it’s on balance a solid set of songs — with tracks like “Reigns,” “Danke,” the blistering duo “War” and “Kill Them With Kindness,” and lead single “Grounds,” which sported my hands-down favorite line of the year (“I say what I mean, do what I love, and fucking SEND it…”) it felt good to get a little fiery.
13. Mt Joy — Rearrange Us / Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever — Sideways to New Italy / Woods — Strange to Explain: this slot’s for bands who routinely conjure the shine of our sunny friend in the sky (and the namesake of everyone’s favorite blogger), brightening otherwise dreary days with their music. First up is the sophomore album from Philly band Mt. Joy (named after a proverbial place I think ALL of us hoped we could find this year), returning for the first time since their self-titled 2018 debut. That album was pure, unadulterated sunshine — positive sentiments wrapped in a hippie hemp blanket, their melodies and cheer strong enough to win over even the most calcified, jaded hearts. (Not speaking about anyone in particular here…) This one allows a few storm clouds to darken the horizon (lyrics occasionally touch on things like depression and adultery this time around) without sacrificing the underlying optimism. Songs like “My Vibe,” “Death,” “Strangers,” and the beautiful “Witness” all glow, warming the windshield as you glide on down the highway.
Another band built for the open road is Australia’s RBCF who are also back with their sophomore album, their first since their 2018 debut, Hope Downs. Thankfully the Blackouts haven’t changed the formula that 
Lastly comes the similarly evocative Woods (back for the first time since the overly cheeseball 2017 Love is Love), though the locale they call to mind is often tougher to pin down. At times pastoral homestead, others a spaced out dreamscape, this one bridges the gap between the ethereal aspects of the latter and the lush warmth of the former. Calling to mind the slinky, almost African rhythms of their 2016 album City Sun Eater in the River of Light (
12. X — Alphabetland / Magnetic Fields — Quickies: this slot’s for those showcasing the benefits of brevity, albeit using two VERY different palettes. The former takes the sounds of revved up rockabilly and singsong harmonies that made the LA punks famous and brandishes them again to terrific effect. Back for the first time in 17 years and the first in 35 with the original lineup, the band fires off 10 rapid winners in a brisk 27 minute sprint to the finish. (The spoken word piece at the end is forgettable.) The interplay between frontman John Doe and frontwoman Exene Cervenka’s voices has always been a signature, and their breathless delivery of numerous lines get stuck in your head again here. Guitarist Billy Zoom’s riffs remain pristine, rattled off with the effortless flair of someone who’s been at it for close to 40 years, and DJ Bonebrake’s drums haven’t lost any of their pop. Songs like “Water & Wine,” “Strange Life,” “Goodbye Year, Goodbye,” or the pair of old tunes finally properly recorded (“Delta 88 Nightmare” and “Cyrano De Berger’s Back”) all smoke. This one’s every bit as good as the band’s early classics.
The Mags return for the first time in three years with yet another concept album, this one requiring all songs be under three minutes long. (Previous themes required all songs have fuzzed up guitars or start with the letter I, to name just two recent ones.) Beyond that frontman Stephin Merritt was free to roam and he covers a ton of ground over the course of the album’s 28 songs. Visiting castles (twice), spinning yarns about Shakers, bikers, Jesus, and Beelzebub, celebrating historic tits (not what you think) and outstanding coffee, or simpler things like his favorite watering hole or his musical neighbors. Merritt’s limitless imagination and wicked sense of humor are both on display, presenting some of the best material since the band’s unparalleled classic, 69 Love Songs. The highlights are almost too numerous to recount — “The Day the Politicians Died,” “When She Plays the Toy Piano,” “(I Want to Join a) Biker Gang,” “Let’s Get Drunk Again (And Get Divorced), “I Wish I Were a Prostitute Again,” “The Best Cup of Coffee in Tennessee,” “My Stupid Boyfriend” (which is laugh out loud funny). They all shine, full of Merritt’s characteristic heart, humor, or wonderful melodies — a great return to form.
11. Doves — The Universal Want / Bright Eyes — Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was: this slot’s for a pair of improbable reunions from bands I’ve really enjoyed over the years, but who’d been in hibernation for a good chunk of time, seemingly gone for good. Thankfully they’ve returned, both with lavish, kitchen-sink style albums that add layers to their signature sounds. Doves add the least flourishes between the two, but have been away the longest so get to go first.
Gone for a mere 9 years, Bright Eyes are another band that slipped away into the night and were seemingly forgotten. Frontman Conor Oberst remained busy, releasing several solo albums and pairing with other artists like Phoebe Bridgers for side project Better Oblivion Community Center, but the rest of the band (Mike Mogis and Nate Wolcott) were much more quiet. So it was a surprise when there was news they’d signed to a new label (“why does a dormant band need a label?”), which was quickly followed by talk of reunion shows and ultimately an album. And it’s a good one — an ambitious, reach for the stars type outing where everything is taken up a level.
10. Built to Spill — Built to Spill Plays the Songs of Daniel Johnston / My Morning Jacket — The Waterfall II: this slot’s for some long running bands opting to run in place for a minute rather than charge forward with some new material, utilizing two of the four universal indicators for “we’re taking a bit of a break right now.” (Not represented — greatest hits or live albums, or the fabled ultimate phone-in signal, the live album of OTHER people’s greatest hits.) Thankfully they’re both entirely pleasant outings, so no real complaints here.
For their part of the equation, MMJ decided to mine their archives and put out an album of previously recorded material rather than hit us with some new songs. It’s not a traditional outtakes set, filled with one off demos or rarities scattered from throughout their career, but rather an entire album they decided not to put out until now. Originally recorded as part of the 2015 Waterfall sessions, the band initially debated releasing the material all at once, but for whatever reason balked. Thankfully they finally decided to share the other half of those sessions and the fully restored duo work nicely when played back to back.
9. Jeff Tweedy — Love is the King / Matt Berninger — Serpentine Prison: this slot’s for a couple old favorites stepping out on their own, temporarily leaving the comforts of their beloved bands (Wilco and the National, respectively) to uphold one of the pandemic’s primary edicts, that of isolation. For Tweedy this is nothing new — he’s been sporadically taking breaks from the band to do solo tours for years, and truthfully I enjoy those shows even more than the full family affairs. (No offense to the guys — there’s just something about the intimacy of Jeff and an acoustic guitar that is incomparable. Watch 
For Berninger this is the first time he’s given it a go on his own — there have been one-off tracks here and there and the El Vy side project, but this is the first time he’s hanging a shingle entirely of his own. Initially intended to be a covers album, he went into the studio with producer Booker T (sadly sans MGs) and instead ended up recording an entire album of originals. (Allegedly the covers that started the fruitful sessions still exist and will be released later.) The interplay between the two is noticeable on a number of tracks, albeit subtle — there’s no Booker T of old whipping folks into a funky frenzy (although picturing Berninger trying to do so is comical to envision, like your kind uncle rattling off some Death Certificate-era Cube in an attempt to look hard), just understated keys gliding lightly through the background to buttress the songs.
8. Waxahatchee — Saint Cloud / Kevin Morby — Sundowner: this slot’s for two independent faves who somehow prove even more enjoyable together. Ladies coming first (both in courtesy and release order), we’ll start with the latest from Ms Katie who’s back for the first time since 2017’s Out in the Storm. Having previously dealt with the pain and insecurities surrounding love and loss, giving us three excellent albums bursting with vulnerability and quiet honesty, that album was all fiery guitars and full throated resilience, letting everyone in earshot know she had finally found her footing and was no longer going to be dominated by those ghosts — which while great from a personal perspective was not what drew me to her music. Thankfully she seems to have come out of that phase of overt trumpeting and settled into one of more comfortable confidence, giving us an album that exudes warmth and beauty. Songs like the title track, “Fire,” “The Eye,” and “War” all shine, while the twin singles of “Lilacs” and “Can’t Do Much” rank among the finest things she’s written.
For Morby’s part he continues his prolific pace of release, having just put out the full length Oh My God last year. (It 
7. Guided by Voices — Surrender Your Poppy Field / Mirrored Aztec / Styles We Paid For: in a year where there was so much upheaval, so many confusing experiences and terrible firsts, it was nice to have at least one reliable thing to count on, something as steadfast and unrelenting as the virus’ case count and death toll — only positive! That comes to us from our old friend Dr Bob, who may not be able do anything to cure us of the disease, but CAN do a lot to improve our pandemic playtime. That’s because — yet again — the beloved band of Ohioans are back with another album — THREE of them. Which would sound impressive or improbable if they didn’t do the exact same thing LAST year! THAT trio of albums 
6. Cut Worms — Nobody Lives Here Anymore / Andy Shauf — Neon Skyline: this slot’s for a couple first-timers that I discovered thanks to Spotify’s spot-on suggestion algorithm, which was on a tear earlier this year. Thanks to the lockdown keeping us stuck in place, the need to get away was a growing concern as time (but not much else) oozed onward. Some turned to travel shows on Netflix, some wandered down memory lane looking at old photos, while I found myself time traveling to earlier eras musically to stave off the stasis. One of the more frequent vectors for that was Cut Worms, a 
For his part Shauf takes you a decade or so later to a Paul Simon of the 70s sound on his fifth album, a brisk 35-minute gem that nails Simon’s narrative songwriting and sing-speak style of delivery. Covering the exploits of a single night out, this is the second album in a row that Shauf dedicates substantively to a specific theme (his last outing revolved around a night at a party, 2016’s aptly named The Party.) And while the thought of 11 songs about a night at the bar (the titular Neon Skyline) might seem suffocating or bland, Shauf finds plenty to keep you interested.
5. Nathaniel Rateliff — And It’s Still Alright: released before the world shutdown, this was the first album I knew would be showing up at year’s end and was the front runner for a long time. Coming out waaaaay back in February, this marks a return to pre-Night Sweats Nathaniel — softer and more introspective, working on his wounds with his acoustic guitar in hand — but with a few more flourishes this time around. The substance is still the same — the tried-and-true stalwarts of love and loss — but what’s new is what surrounds them: sweeping orchestral sections, forlorn horns, and the occasional choir. It all adds up to a grander affair than before, while still representing the most naked, heartfelt album of the year.
4. Muzz — Muzz: this was one of the year’s most unexpected surprises, a return of components from some of my favorite bands, specifically Interpol’s frontman Paul Banks and the Walkmen’s former drummer Matt Barrick, here with indie hopscotcher Josh Kaufman. Together the trio delivered one of the year’s best debuts, an endlessly engaging album that exemplifies easygoing. If the previous album was emblematic of the year’s emotional anguish, this one was all about staying calm, cool, and collected — the absolute epitome of “chill.”
3. Car Seat Headrest — Making a Door Less Open: if the last two entries represented opposing sides of the emotional spectrum, one tumultuous, the other tranquil, this one slides squarely in the middle and maps its effervescent peaks. Arriving just as the lockdown was settling its jaws into the globe, frontman Will Toledo and company are back with their first batch of new songs since 2016’s excellent Teens of Denial and what should have been the album of the summer. In any normal year going to hear this live would have been one of the hotter tickets in town, captivating concert-goers with its infectious melodies and soaring spirit, a self-assured danceparty waiting to happen. Instead, like everything else we were left to enjoy it from the confines of our homes, attempting to approximate that communal release from our couch.
2. Run the Jewels — RTJ4: aside from the unending pandemic and the lack of live music, the real reason the previous album didn’t rule the summer was because just after its release, video of George Floyd’s murder in Minneapolis came out and the country exploded in protest — at a man’s excruciating extinguishing under authority’s knee (8 minutes and 46 seconds of absolute agony to watch), at years of systemic racism and injustice that enable things like that to happen, and at the overall deluge of difficulties that hit people this year, sparking a sense of righteous indignation and outrage that spilled into the streets around the world. Arriving a mere one week later, THIS album — with its focused fury and awakened anger gave folks the music they were looking for and the soundtrack to the summer.
1. Pottery — Welcome to Bobby’s Motel: having come through the previous four stages of tumult, tranquility, exhilaration, and indignation, we arrive at the end and the thing that will ultimately get us across the finish line — pure, unadulterated adrenaline. This is the album I listened to more than anything else this year by a country mile. (As evidenced by almost each of its 11 songs being in my 2020 Wrapped playlist on Spotify.) Whenever any of those previous stages threatened to tip out of balance and overwhelm, this album was there to give you the energy to keep going — to push thru the pain or manage the anger, to snap out of the fog or keep driving towards that daydream future — the one where you can dance amongst friends, drink amongst strangers, and deliriously drift back and forth between the two.