A lot of people these days have a problem with pathos. It might be just the general vibe of a period in history, where everything could runneth over in disaster any minute, to be naturally skeptical about thinking big thoughts, or applying big sounds to things seemingly trivial in the big picture. I am skeptical about empty pathos too (don't get me started on White Lies or Band of Horses!), but when pathos isn't empty, it can be goddamn beautiful, and that's how it works on Austra's incredibly impressive debut album, Feel It Break. There's asperity lurking in every bend of this album, but when it's tied together by jiving rhythms on 'The Future', and by Katie Stelmanis' angelic voice all throughout the record, but especially on 'Lose It', it really works. It doesn't have quite the obscureness and mystique of Silent Shout, but it comes pretty damn close, which itself is a feat. From the merciless drive of 'Beat And The Pulse' to the vulnerable and courageous closer 'The Beast', Feel It Break is one of the best things 2011 has given us yet.
OK, so the hands down biggest musical discovery I've made this past year has been The Tallest Man On Earth. In some ways, he sounds like something from deep in the Midwest, but now and then you can hear his Scandinavian heritage in his songwriting and lyrics - there's an outlook and perspective to it. His very distinctive voice may scare off some, but if you get around that, you get rewarded with some really impressive lyrics and melodies, such as on the debut's 'Shallow Grave', 'Where Do My Bluebird Fly?' and 'This Wind', and on 'King of Spain' and 'Kids On The Run' on sophomore album The Wild Hunt. The latter is a bit warmer and softer than the former, which, purposely or unpurposely, doesn't seem as polished, which serves to its advantage. There's more of an urgency to Shallow Grave, and you get the feeling that it's a bit more heartfelt, but The Wild Hunt is a highly enjoyable record on its own.
One can really only bow down in awe and gratitude of Arcade Fire. With The Suburbs, the Canadians aim their megaphonic expressionism at an entire generation of suburbianites born and bred, and they do it bloody well - not only lyrically, where tunes like 'Suburban War' and 'Deep Blue' stand out, and evoke such a plethora of feelings and memories, but also musically, with a kick ass tune like 'Month Of May'. When they're at their best, Arcade Fire manage to unify their lyrical and musical talents and create pure and powerful magic. That's on tunes such as the wildly igniting 'Ready To Start', the beautifully melancholic 'We Used To Wait' and the magnificent, all-embracing and dystopic 'Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains', where Régine Chassagne's wail echoes that of an entire generation of originals forced to keep their mouths shut. The Suburbs is an impressive, but also frightening, ode to the suburbia which at once carries such vivid and cherished memories of childhood and dire reminders of the normalcy it often nurtures. It creates an urge to break out, to fight, to scream, and to throw in the towel all in the same instant.
Part of making a list like this involves looking back at which albums one has actually heard a lot. Not because a lot of spins and plays on repeat are necessarily a quality, but some albums just end up being the soundtrack of a certain period, and that's how A Collection of Vibrations for Your Skull has ended up. Through the countless times I've put on the beautifully defiant 'You and The New World' on my iPod heading somewhere, through marvelous cuts like 'Facing The Sun' and 'Riddles In Rhymes' to the graver psychedelia of 'The Universe is A Woman' and 'Time Stretcher', this album just works all the way through. It's only slightly more than a half an hour in length, but this way, this young outfit avoids one of the most common pitfalls of debut albums - the songs you feel were tucked in at the end, just to give the album some length. Although keeping themselves within a certain frame, Treefight For Sunlight subjugate impressively many different timbres and moods beneath their formidable vocal work, which easily propels A Collection of Vibrations for Your Skull skywards.
A gimme? Perhaps. Even though Bon Iver isn't as magic as its predecessor, there's no way I can picture any other album atop this list. Bon Iver could have gone in many directions from For Emma, Forever Ago, but the one he/they (I can't make up my mind on whether to surrender to the fact that most now refer to Bon Iver as a band...) chose, floats my boat pretty damn well. The combination of electronic experiments on a base of classic, acoustic timbres, topped with Justin Vernon's enchanting vocals is just marvelous. These days, I've fallen for 'Towers', which is formidably uplifting, but so is 'Michicant', and so is 'Minnesota, WI' too. Then there's lead single 'Calgary', and the crookedly intriguing 'Beth/Rest', the modest whispers of 'Wash.' and 'Hinnom, TX', and the pompous, riveting opener 'Perth', but above it all, 'Holocene' reigns supreme. The sheer beauty and potency of that tune rivals anything on For Emma, Forever Ago, and proves that Justin Vernon is among the most gifted artists around these days. Fuck how he hangs out with Kanye West, 'Holocene' displays Vernon at his absolute best, creating beauty out of simplicity, and making everything come together in a cascade of aural magnificence.
