Gregory Alan Isakov – "Gregory Alan Isakov with the Colorado Symphony"
Label: Independent Release (Orchestral Folk)
Highlights: "Liars," "Master & a Hound," "Saint Valentine," "That Sea," "The Gambler"
Isakov's best work to date, and about 65 percent of the credit is due to the symphony playing alongside him. This is Isakov's fourth album, but he hasn't changed all that much since "Songs for October" (2005).
Most of Isakov's discography is about bouncing around this little tiny globe of ours that we need to, y'know, not die. However — the orchestra here makes everything just absolutely amazing, like an animated Disney movie about Isakov's life, experiences and stories. Suddenly his ol' “where-is-home” trope is vivid and intriguing again.
The symphony that cradles every track with this cascading layer of emotion and it's like honey to whatever area in my brain comprehends beauty. It enhances Isakov's songwriting so much because he is, by nature, a very emotional songwriter.
Like OK, I know I'm ragging on Isakov, but he is quite possibly the most stereotypical folky songwriter on this side of the Mason-Dixon. It's easy for him to get carried away into his own little wallowings, but I'll be gosh darn danged if he isn't eloquent and articulate while doing so. His clichés shouldn't undermine his abilities as a composer. Every song is in some way either sweepingly gorgeous or compellingly epic.
Mothers – "When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired"
Label: Grand Jury Records
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Highlights: "Too Small For Eyes," "It Hurts Until it Doesn't," "Nesting Behavior," "Blood-letting"
The first album from the solo project of multi-instrumentalist Kristine Leschper, whose heart seems to be perpetually tearing at the seams. “Too Small For Eyes” is all you need to understand how this album is going to play out: the longing, dendritic voice; the hollow ukulele echoes in a ghostly room; the crescendo of strings during the climax.
It's not innovative, it's not shiny nor brand new, but "When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired" is so good at what it's trying to do that I can't help but fall into Leschper's black ocean. The lo-fi quality of the recordings and her scratchy voice fuse into something more than the sum of its parts.
Instrumentally some songs feel like chilled-out female Car Seat Headrest tracks. They're often a really simplified four-piece band over Leschpers, like Toledo's, colorless vocals. Which is a compliment here; she feels colorless and does a good job at evoking that.
"When You Walk a Long Distance" is a piece of work I never expected to enjoy so much, considering how hit or miss just singing alone with so few backing instruments can be. At first I grew quite weary of every song being about a “you," a recipient or source of sadness that Leschper is trying to convey.
We're only getting one perspective each time for the poems she recites about this formidable “other." It's a silly issue, but considering she's not writing about anything else in this record... just write lyrics about more things! Perhaps, stylistically, it reinforces how hopeless she feels.
The album title would definitely suggest something of the sort — a long relationship, and the fatigue one feels after a dissolution. Leschper complains so well, it hurts how sad she is. There's something worth it in letting her make you feel depressed.
Bon Iver – "22, A Million
Label: Jagjaguwar (Experimental Folk) (34:10)
Highlights: "715 (Creeks)," "33 'God'," "#29 Strafford Apts," "8 (Circle)"
I will never understand the bits and pieces that make this album the dense, sporadic, emotionally piercing supernova that is so beautifully... is.
"22, A Million" is a glitch in the matrix that, still, after four months of listening, continues to routinely blow my mind away. In case you forgot, here's a reminder: Justin Vernon is a musical anomaly. He dares to question how exactly one consumes melodies and rhythms through time.
Some of the songs don't sound like music, they're sometimes just distorted noises; yet, the most beautiful noises I've heard this year. Everything (everything!) about "22, A Million" is weird and different and strange, and in turn... innovative? These songs are way ahead of their time.
It's more than the songs too: with the way they're written, it feels like a new way to spell. With the album art, he's trying to create these new weird ways of comprehending information that, well, it's kind of stupid. But the music is to die for.
"22, A Million" is a niche form of elegance that, seriously, has not come to light prior its release. His gasping, asthmatic cries on “715” define the song. As in, that's it. It's just his voice through a vocoder. But the timbre is so evocative and heart-wrenching, its drives a spike through your head.
The beauty is in the minimalism, but it doesn't stop him from going out on tracks like “10” and “33." Songs often glitch out of existence as though the record briefly skips dimensions. “8” is essentially a lost Boyz 2 Men track that I never knew I wanted coming out of Vernon's music factory.
Lastly though: the refrain on “29” — quite honestly the most beautiful eight seconds in all of music this year. Bar none. It twists the knife in my amygdala every single waking moment in time I hear those howling words.
Also Kanye shows up for a little bit, so that's always fun.
Sturgil Simpson – "A Sailor's Guide to Earth"
Label: Atlantic (Alternative Country) (38:54)
Highlights: "Breakers Roar," "Keep it Between the Lines," "Call to Arms"
The finest piece of country music you'll hear coming out of 2016.
Simpson sings like an outlaw, plays like a virtuoso and writes like an aesthete. "A Sailor's Guide to Earth" is dedicated to his son, who he references in most tracks. “Welcome to the World (Pollywog)" greets Simpson, Jr. with a delicate, fragile piano ballad that grows up to become a bombastic symphony of joy.
“Breakers Roar” is gorgeous, a tumbling ballad warning the little dude of all life's turbulence that's undoubtedly gonna crash in like a hurricane. “Keep Between the Lines” is an awesome track if only for the line:
“Don't do as I've done,
it don't have to be like father like son.”
Before exploding into a layered solo, one guitar playing slightly behind the other. It's one of many really small, interesting things here. Shout out to Matt for pointing that one out. Thanks Matt.
Simpson also completely transforms Nirvana's “In Bloom” into a folky, downtempo ballad which came so far from left field you have Bernie Sanders throwing the pitch.
Björk – "Vulnicura Live"
Label: One Little Indian (Experimental Baroque) (78:47)
Highlights: "Stonemilker," "Lionsong," "History of Touches," "Notget," "Wanderlust"
It seemed right to put this in folk considering Björk's music now is so vividly dreary and morose. Her sodden voice crawls on the floor and the instruments curl up around your ears like vines on a facade.
The avant-garde Icelandic singer just went through a divorce after a 16-year relationship and wrote this album in the wake of picking up the pieces. In turn, the lyrics and tone are extremely fragile; her heart is out for the offering. She portrays feelings of unending yearn, and the volatility it afflicts.
"Vulnicura" is a eulogy for what was, at one point, so indescribably magnificent.
“What is it that I have
that makes me feel your pain?”
Throughout the album she poetically likens herself to the process of metamorphism, constantly how she would change herself, vividly, like a Kafkaesque nightmare, just to live certain moments again.
Björk cuts a vein on this album and it's deeply thrilling, albeit violently gloomy, to get caught up in her inanimate world.
Each Björk album confirms her position as the queen of anomaly, daring the audience to understand her. For me, it kind of goes back to that string section. Can we talk about those strings for a minute? They string themselves into my heart and don't let go.
Audrin Baghaie is the music editor at the Daily Lobo. He can be reached on Twitter @AudrinTheOdd.
