7. Conor Oberst , Conor Oberst (Merge). Oberst, otherwise known as the wunderkind behind the hugely successful indie act Bright Eyes, has released his first solo effort in thirteen years. It is a powerfully poetic, heavily acoustic, and frequently poppy chef d’oeuvre. Take “Milkthistle,” a song based around the figure of apostrophe, where the poet addresses an inanimate object as if it could respond. Having addressed the milkthistle, he moves on: “Newspaper, newspaper/Can’t take any more/You’re here every morning/Waitin’ at my door/I’m just trying to kiss you/But you stab my eyes/Make me blue forever/Like an Allen Sky.”
And yet he shows an emotional and intellectual maturity in this one verse. Spare him the accusations of naiveté: “And I’m not pretending/That it’s all okay/Just let me have my coffee/Before you take the day away.” More than a few of us can relate to that hardship of concern and exasperation, but could never formulate it so well. Clearly one of the brightest figures in contemporary indie songwriting.
8. MGMT, Oracular Spectacular(Red Ink). It wouldn’t be far off to speak of a new New Wave, a generation that has studied and appreciated the synth-pop pioneers of the 80s and the flourishes of 70s glam and classic rock and built upon them with the hindsight of 90s indie rock-pop. Beautiful melodies and hooks, almost all imminently danceable and drenched in a not too pretentious irony. “I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw I'm in the prime of my life./ Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives” (“Time to Pretend”). Vanwyngarden and Glasser, with the virtuoso production guidance of Mercury Rev’s Dave Fridmann, have a stellar first effort. Oh the pressure of great beginnings.
9. Raveonettes, Lust, Lust, Lust (Vice). This Danish duo is critically loved and hated. Their sound is extremely reminiscent of the wall-of-sound demigods like the Jesus & Mary Chain, My Bloody Valentine, and Mercury Rev, with definite nods to the trailblazing Velvet Underground. Yet, I would argue they inject a kind of driving pop melody in that tradition that sets it slightly apart. Besides, some critics torpedoed The Strokes fabulous first album for being too much a derivative pastiche of Television, The Gang of Four, and others.
Yet it was catchy as hell, something Television certainly never pulled off. The Raveonettes are very good at what they do, and this album knows how to bring the fuzz to a precipice and drop it off into a “Dead Sound” canyon. Not all good albums have to consist of multi-instrumentalists mastering multiple genres on one album. There are greater things in musical heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt in your criteria of bricolage.
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