Hey, there. We’ve done this annual music podcast thing for a few years now, so let’s be clear on what’s happening here, eh?
I’m Nate—the man behind the podcasting curtain. If you’re a regular listener, you’ve almost certainly heard Chad and/or Tom refer to “Nate” on numerous occasions. If they are the “talent” (scare quotes intended), then I am the producer. Nevertheless, twice a year I slink out from behind said curtain for the music podcast (this!) and the movie podcast with Tom (soon!).
All apologies, as always, for having to hear my non-radio-friendly voice talk about songs and my thoughts on them (thoughts that may be slightly shaded by a bit of podcast whiskey). That being said: Hey! Take a look at these ten things because they are ten good things, and you might think so, too!
This is my expanded year-end list of music from the Three Percent Music Podcast. They’re not all necessarily my most listened-to albums of the year, nor what I would call a “best of” list, although it’s not far from either. I’ve included a link to one exemplar from each album to give you the gist, but, to really get a good overview of each, we made a Spotify playlist at which you can conveniently listen to a few songs from each of these albums, as well of the songs from Chad and Kaija’s lists, too. (And, of course, listen to the podcast!)
So, here we go, in no particular order of operations:
Best Album to Remind You about that Rock ‘n’ Roll Is All We Need:
Idle No More by King Kahn & The Shrines
I was never too, too much of a Rolling Stones fan (team Beatles, man), but I do have a weakness for bands that have the sort-of throwback style and attitude that reminds us of the “it’s just about pure rock ‘n’ roll” attitude that they represented. Well, this King Khan album is soaking in that. Clean guitars, a driving backbeat, back-up “ba baba ba” singing parts, and just enough reverb and horns thrown in the mix all make this your favorite album of 1968 that came out in 2013. Basically, if you can listen to the first 30 second of this and say, “Goo, I just hate that.” Then, you, my friend, do not much like rock ‘n’ roll.
Best Album to Intrigue You from the First Notes:
Magic Trix by Xenia Rubinos
When you first listen to this, —the top cut on the album—you naturally try to categorize it, but the song makes that a bit of a twisty challenge. Beginning with a soft a cappella voice, the track shortly transforms when the drums and keyboard kick in. As with much of this album, the instruments (notably, there is no guitar to be found) create abrupt, syncopated rhythms that fit perfectly with Xenia’s staccato delivery and layered vocal tracks. By the time you reach the second track, you realize this album has even more tricks up its sleeve . . .
Best Album by Man Man in Years:
On Oni Pond by Man Man
I won’t say too much about Man Man, primarily because I could say far too much about them. Although I’ve been fan of there’s for many years, now, I do understand that they can be one of those bands that are either one’s taste or just . . . not. I’m drawn to what I call “persona singers,” so Man Man definitely strikes a chord with me. Filled with kinetic energy, eclectic tastes in gypsy-infused hurky-jerky beats, amazing live shows, and a voice that sounds like Frank Zappa ate Tom Waits . . . Well, just listen to a bit of this. If you like it even a little, then give the them a long listen. They’ll suck you in if you let them. Man Man have spent years creating a fascinating world of albums for you to explore, and this one is a great place to start.
Best Album That’s Easy to Love from the First Notes:
We the Common by Thao & The Get Down Stay Down
If the above category name is accurate, there’s no need to sell this one. If you haven’t heard it already, just give this about a minute. It shouldn’t take much more than that before you’re looking up the whole album.
Best Album from Someone I’ve been listening to since 1998:
Surrounded by Richard Buckner
When Pitchfork music—our favorite whipping boy—reviewed this album, they called the sound of Richard Buckner’s guitar “splintery as a raw plank.” Credit where credit is due: I have been trying to find the perfect words to describe the particular sound in Buckner’s guitar playing/recording style since I first heard it on his 1998 album Since, and “splintery as a raw plank” is exactly what it sounds like. Take a listen (at 30 seconds in). That, paired with his alternately rough/cracking and soothingly smooth voice, makes him an artist who is never less than intimately close to the listener. He was alt-country before alt-country was really a thing, and he made a couple experimental/concept albums when he seemed like a straight-up 3:30-long song kind of guy. Basically, he has never been anything less than himself, and, in many ways, this album is a return to the same form that made me fall for his stuff 15 years ago, so it’s a great place to dive in.
Best Album That Also Has One of the Best Tracks of the Year on It:
Muchacho by Phosphorescent
Don’t mistake me: This entire album is magnificent. In fact, this standout track is a bit of a bad example of what the whole album actually sounds like, since every other song is of a distinctively different style than this one—think old Will Oldham stuff with better production value—and I love that style. That being said, this song flows for over six minutes so gracefully that you may think it all washed over you too quickly, and you might just go back to listen to it, again, right after.
Best Album with Unapologetically Catchy Melodies:
The Speed of Things by Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr.
Yes, their name is awful—so bad, in fact, that I avoided them for a long time, assuming they must be awful, as well. Turns out I was wrong. If you want some upbeat pop that you can dance to with bouncy melodies that you can fall for upon first listen, this you can definitely do worse than this.
Best Album Written in a Subway Station:
Moon Hooch by Moon Hooch
Two saxophonists and a drummer and all the squeaky, unbridled energy you can ask for is what you’re going to get here in this album of instrumental tracks. They started by busking in New York subway stations until they were recently discovered, and they definitely deserve a wider audience because this is some addictive, propulsive stuff.
Best Album from My Hard-Rockin’ Days:
Found by Rival Schools
The NY post-punk and post-hrdcore pedigree of this band is simply too long to get into here (that’s what the podcast is for. Go listen to it!), so I’ll just say that the lead singer and songwriter was in two of my favorite bands when I was a high-school skateboarder punk. We’re all older now, but he’s still got it.
Best Album by a Legend:
Push the Sky Away by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
With decades of albums under his belt, Push the Sky Away finds Cave at his most quietly reflective and paced. That’s not to say that the songs don’t still carry all the weight and otherworldliness that we expect from him, though. In fact, the sparse arrangements and low-tempo songs only increase the eerie uneasiness. What can I say? It’s Nick Cave, man. Just listen.
The opening of Jón Gnarr’s novel/memoir The Indian is a playful bit of extravagant ego, telling the traditional story of creation, where the “Let there be light!” moment is also the moment of his birth on January 2nd, 1967. Then. . .
Mahasweta Devi is not only one of the most prolific Bengali authors, but she’s also an important activist. In fact, for Devi, the two seem to go together. As you can probably tell from the titles, she writes about women. . .
The prolific Spanish author Benito Pérez Galdós wrote his short novel, Tristana, during the closing years of the nineteenth century, a time when very few options were available to women of limited financial means who did not want a husband.. . .
Pedro Zarraluki’s The History of Silence (trans. Nick Caistor and Lorenza García) begins with the narrator and his wife, Irene, setting out to write a book about silence, itself called The History of Silence: “This is the story of how. . .
There are plenty of reasons you can fail to find the rhythm of a book. Sometimes it’s a matter of discarding initial assumptions or impressions, sometimes of resetting oneself. Zigmunds Skujiņš’s Flesh-Coloured Dominoes was a defining experience in the necessity. . .
In a culture that privileges prose, reviewing poetry is fairly pointless. And I’ve long since stopped caring about what the world reads and dropped the crusade to get Americans to read more poems. Part of the fault, as I’ve suggested. . .
I would like to pose the argument that it is rare for one to ever come across a truly passive protagonist in a novel. The protagonist (perhaps) of Three Light-Years, Claudio Viberti, is just that—a shy internist who lives in. . .
The last five days of the eleventh-century Icelandic politician, writer of sagas, and famous murder victim Snorri Sturleleson (the Norwegian spelling, Snorre, is preserved in the book) make up Thorvald Steen’s most recently translated historical fiction, The Little Horse. Murdered. . .
We all know Paris, or at least we think we know it. The Eiffel Tower. The Latin Quarter. The Champs-Élysées. The touristy stuff. In Dominique Fabre’s novel, Guys Like Me, we’re shown a different side of Paris: a gray, decaying. . .
One hundred pages into Birth of a Bridge, the prize-winning novel from French writer Maylis de Kerangal, the narrator describes how starting in November, birds come to nest in the wetlands of the fictional city of Coca, California, for three. . .