Without further adieu, here are 2017's Albums of the Year:
3. Kelly Lee OwensKelly Lee Owens
Electronic/Ambient : Listen
When you first see the album art for Kelly Lee Owens' debut self-titled release, you expect a very specific thing, that is to say, if you have no knowledge of the Welsh singer-songwriter going into your first listen, like me. What you think--I know because it's what I thought--is incredulity at having to slog through another god-awful, indie, guitar-and-vocal performance like the nigh insurmountable numbers of weird-folk troubadours that have sprung up in the wake of Pavement. But what you hear when you first listen to Kelly Lee Owens' debut self-titled album, especially if you have no knowledge of the Welsh singer-songwriter, like me, will blow your goddamned mind.
To say that my first listen was puzzling is the most terrible of understatements: I was left literally dumbfounded. I didn't see any of this coming, an intense, atmospheric blend of electronics and vocals delivered so softly you'd think she was whispering in your ear. There are not enough adjectives synonymous with awe to adequately describe how I felt after listening to this album, suffice to say that this may be, by a wide margin, the most surprised I have ever been while reviewing music.
The first listen, however, was literally through the speakers of my iPhone, which, despite what I'm sure were someone's best intentions, suck. So, for my second listen, I donned my studio headphones for the first time in months, finally having found an album that gave me occasion to do so. And was it ever as glorious as I remembered. Listening to Kelly Lee Owens, you are immediately wrapped in sound, the scintillation of every note passing ever so faintly over you. By the time you reach the second song, you're wondering what aural pleasures rest within the remaining confines of such mysterious yet inviting soundscapes.
But not all is warmth and tantalization in the land of Owens. Songs like "Anxi." and "Evolution" follow more straightforward lines, but with a dark twist. There's always some...thing underneath the surface; transfixed by both amazement and horror, all you want it is to discover what "it" is, but terrified that reaching into the murky depths could result in pain, or worse.
Then there are gorgeous, ambient songs like "Arthur" and especially "8," the album's nine-minute closing track that is every Grimes song and every Aphex Twin song played over top of each other, the layers washing over you wave after wave, until eventually all that's left is a simple Kraftwerk beat ticking down the seconds until your journey through time and space comes to an end.
I can't say how many times I have listened to this album, trying to discover every secret, every hidden place. I can't say how many more times I will listen to it again--a vein this rich begs to be mined. I have actively listened to it, I have passively listened to it: driving, cooking, doing laundry. I have used it to fall asleep. I have had to listen to it first thing upon waking. I'm listening to it while writing this very article. There is nothing more addictive than the puzzle only you can solve. This album is that puzzle
...for everyone.
Peasant
Avant-Folk : Listen
Have you ever wondered if music could break your mind, or unlock the mysteries of the universe, or answer every question about existence you've ever had, if only you could just...understand it? I know, it's strange to say that a folk album (with some serious metal and industrial influences hidden in there ever so expertly) with lyrics inspired by dark ages English diaries could be the key to something so important this far in the future.
I can't explain how I feel about this album properly. The more I listen to it, the more I wish all folk sounded like this, but then this wouldn't be SO unique. I am still utterly confused as to its production, conception, and even its very existence.
I know I'm rambling, but this album does that, it's like the King in Yellow or discovering R'lyeh, its non-euclidean geometry twisting your every conventional thought into a four-dimensional mobius. If artists are directors, Richard Dawson is David Lynch. If albums are paintings, Peasant is Saturn Devouring His Son.
The album opens with a gorgeous brass chord progression, more a soundscape than a song, but it soon devolves into various...well, to be honest, farty noises that had me laughing harder than anything Weird Al's done in years. But jokes aside, the non-conventional structure and lack of respect for anything resembling music theory is a great introduction for how the rest of this album will go.
"Ogre," perhaps the song getting the most press, and rightly so, is where the true body of the album begins. Slowly, we enter the world of Bryneich, with a beautiful string arrangement that could have you easily slip into a medieval court. Shortly voices enter, a boisterous choir, not unlike those of a charivari that begins (or ends) many a joyous gathering, but something is off. Dawson's own voice is clear but distinctly unsettling and his guitar is plucked so hard it might break in half. The suite eventually transitions into a chorus so catchy and powerful that Sufjan Stevens would bow in admiration.
The other standouts on this album--and considering its place in this list, there are many--also conjure the same sense of unease, giving you glimpses of the structures and sounds you are so familiar with from folk, or just music in general. But the glimpses are fleeting, and their presence is only there as a fix, a morsel to make you beg for more. "Weaver" also ends with an epic group-vocal that booms through whatever listening device you prefer, its slow build proving worthy of such a din. Never before has folk-music been appropriate for a mosh pit.
I could keep going...and going, and going. "Prostitute" sounds more like it's coming out of today's Silence Breakers headlines than from the ninth century, proving that even the incredibly old can be incredibly prescient; "Shapeshifter" is both creepy and fun, the Nightmare Before Christmas of folk songs; "Scientist" could go toe-to-toe with any classic metal song and win, its Jethro Tull-inspired licks as heavy as a brown dwarf; and "Beggar," my god, a sadder, more beautiful ode to man's best friend has never been heard, and will never be heard again.
It is clear that Dawson put the time, the work, the blood and sweat in to become intimately familiar with a period of such brutality and squalor. But his ear for sumptuous strings, clever songwriting, and resonant lyrics makes the era not only intriguing, but intrinsically beautiful. Peasant is more--so much more--than a distraction. It is a ode, a tome, an epic poem. It is the present full of past; a timely work from another time.
DAMN.
Hip Hop : Listen
Once upon a time, hip hop was sorely lacking in concept albums. Not even that long ago, the genre was derided for creating albums that were just filler to bump out the couple dancefloor singles a rapper would put out over the course of a year. That was before, before Kendrick Lamar. With his last three albums: Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City, To Pimp a Butterfly, and now DAMN.; he has created three true works of art, full of brilliance in both their writing as well as their delivery. Lamar is the messiah hip hop has been waiting for.
To be honest, there's not a lot I can say here that hasn't been said countless times about DAMN.; it's on so many year-end lists for a reason: mainly, it's astounding. There aren't many artists that can be continually surprising with their seemingly never-ending well of creativity, heart, intelligence, singularity, individuality, idiosyncrasy, specificity, and ingenuity like Kendrick.
This entry could be entirely about "DNA.," a song so fantastic it puts the rest of the hip hop world to shame, but that would be a disservice to the peerless, furious, precious, funny, vivid, precise, intimate, merciless, distinct, inimitable, stirring, effortless, original, electric, curious, enthralling, sincere, philosophical, fun, tender, sheepish, bouncy, fast, lucid, schizophrenic, fluent, scathing, smooth, homegrown, seamless masterpiece that is every single moment on DAMN.
This entry could be entirely about the loop samples from "ELEMENT.," a combination of gorgeous hums, strings, and piano that is so ethereal in an album so grounded in earthly problems that it could be the starship we cling to to escape this cold, dead place. But that would be a disservice to the incredible work put into every detail of every sound on DAMN.
This entry could be entirely about "HUMBLE.," a banger if Kendrick ever wrote one, and a damn catchy tune with a chorus we've all felt like yelling at a coworker/celebrity/worst-president-ever or two ("Bitch, sit down / Be humble"). Its accompanying music video (which I know technically goes outside the purview of an album review) is wildly arty, bold, and often insane, but so encompasses both the sound of the album in a single visual and the musical mission statement of Lamar himself. But that would be a disservice to every jaw-dropping, hard-hitting rhyme on DAMN.
Kendrick Lamar is a wordsmith of unknowable proportions, buoyed ever higher by insanely talented guests from Rihanna to, inexplicably, U2, and Lamar squeezes every sound for all it's worth by filling the space with lots of words. But not a single syllable is wasted--each specifically chosen to tell his story exactly how he wants, with every recitation so flawless you wonder when, or even if, he breathes. And while DAMN. is a beyond-extraordinary rap album, it is also a phenomenal dissertation on fate, and how, no matter where you come from, you can chase it, rather than run from it.
For it's originality, its depth, and its wondrous vision, DAMN. is the best album of 2017.
And that's it everyone! The Baltimore Music Festival has come to a close, as has a god-awful year, but here's to a better 2018, and the great music of 2017!
If our Albums of the Year aren't enough to hold you over, check out our Honorable Mentions and Runners Up.
--S^E
