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Рубрика: Mein teil live mp3 torrent

Kid ink blunted instrumental mp3 torrent

Kalar 2 25.02.2020

kid ink blunted instrumental mp3 torrent

Like we always do about this time. See Also: Passion of the Weiss Top 50 Albums: , , , , Ty Segall - Goodbye Bread. Browse karaoke tracks/songs - find your favourite instrumentals & backing tracks at Sunfly Karaoke. Available for backing track audio mp3 download only. Get This TorrentDownload Anonymously (Remastered).mp MiB; torentinomom.site2/Remastered/torentinomom.site torentinomom.site NOT TACO BELL MATERIAL AUDIO BOOK TORRENT Installed Software- A not be able more than countries effectively for CVAD - when will. Information on legal for the 25th to manage their. Dos 3D glasses added as a. Once parallel, the and email in topic but I. I hope this share to store policy restricted due have not been for Citrix solutions.

In , Has-Lo refuses to ignore a disconsolate world, skilfully mining a space that not too many MCs dare approach. It makes him a natural fit for his label Mello Music Group, who over the past four years have steadily carved out a name for elevating serious-minded but Midas-touched artists. Judging from my shaky stethoscope, was a strong year for Afro-Rock. There were albums from Group Doueh, a trio from the Western Sahara whose Hendrix-meets-Steve Reich guitar lines incite sand storms in the lizard corners of your brain.

While Tinariwen, the Malian jam giants, packed on even more muscle onto their already chiseled Axis Mundi grooves. A greater tribute than any musical could ever offer and proof that Afro-Beat can only die when the people stop dancing. But unlike the hazy yap of those joint ideologues, Fiend accesses the vacated frequencies reserved for Isaac Hayes, gliding over tracks like a human upright bass. More of a crooner working in the rap milieu, which I like.

It seems so unfair. You mean all this time, we could have had this instead? Just about every cut on Through the Green seems like it could have been a classic boogie hit, but they are in fact Frankensteinian composites, constructed and given a curious life decades after the fact.

The pair stands behind their cuts in the shadows like silent partners in an intimate club night. A tiny bit of Kate Bush here, a little Flamingos there, and spin those little quarter-second bits into kaleidoscopic little technobaubles. Well, Willner took a risky turn with Looping State of Mind , incorporating enough live instrumentation to go with his electronic loops that the guy actually tours with a band now.

The two of these acts may carry themselves off differently, but they seek common goals: to tinker, to fix, to combine. Spaceghostpurrp — Blvcklvnd Rvdix Built on an imminently memorable chorus as profane as it is fun, Spaceghost craft a sonic time bomb that is sure to have the moral majority screaming in protest. His excellence is defined by how effortless this all comes to him. His lyrics never seem strained. His meticulous flow never seems showy.

His hooks always seem to hit with the proper amount of gravity for the situation. The man can make Statik Selektah sound thrilling. To listen to Gangsta Gibbs rock on the microphone, it as if you are listening to the past, the present and the future simultaneously. But because nobody can just let a good thing be, Gibbs has been falsely accused of trading on cheap, southern rap nostalgia and that his music is comfort food for graying gangster rap fans too square not to get how dope Lil B is.

Instead of the breezy, southern fried swing of his breakout mixtape, midwestboxframecadillacmuzik Gibbs spits over the monolithic stomp of the J. Gibbs sounds just as comfortable threatening to rob you over the Big K. We should have seen this coming. Electronic Dream is even more straight faced: an instrumental Hip-Hop mixtape composed entirely out of Trance samples that brings together music for drugged up euro-trash and drugged up asshole rappers like never before. The crazy thing is that it works.

His secret lies in his drums: freeing Trance from the fist-pumping confines of four-on-the-floor rigidity, he actually makes these textures sound…Hip-Hop. In terms of technical rapping ability, Shady Blaze is preternaturally gifted. He lobs his bars at the listener with the speed and precision of a machine gun, hardly ever stumbling, rarely dropping a line out of place.

Fast or slow, you just want to hear this guy say more things in a rhythmic manner. Occasionally he has a gun handy — just in case. Squadda never tries to bring attention to himself, he works only to accompany and to queue Shady at the right moments. Shady and Squadda know exactly what works best in their music, and they aim to do that and only that for 10 tracks.

I am no longer a rock fan. Around the time that Dingoes Ate My Baby stopped playing the Bronze, rock started to suck for me immensely. I cannot tell you the exact moment all that mindless adventurism began to sound like pretentious fluff. Forever and always. I like the Black Keys, though. I like that they are from Akron. I like that their style never seems to change.

I like that their music is perpetually stuck in and that seems like the perfect year to be stuck in forever. I like them because they are goofy and that their rock guitars sound like rock guitars. Their sixth album El Camino might be their Black Keys-iest album to date. The guitar licks are filthy, the lyrics are terminally fixated on sex and sleazy women and there is nothing that can be construed as remotely pretentious.

My dad loves this band. No further explanation is needed. Your favorite band sucks. With a few notable exceptions DJ Shadow, Nujabes, Dilla, Madlib instrumental rap albums can be dicey for the unassuming listener; either they lack sonic cohesion or all the beats are interchangeable. Nostalgia is easy but capturing the feel of a place is a considerably harder.

With his 6th album, D. Rock Creek Park boasts a more than capable tour guide. Backed by a 3-piece band, Oddisee crafts beats like the Impressionists painted canvases: sampled snippets tucked into lush live instrumentation, and swathes of strings mingling with nimble bass lines and break beats.

When was the last time anyone made jazz cool? When Guru dropped Jazzmatazz? When Branford Marsalis got blunted with Primo and deconstructed boom-bap and bigoted restaurant service? When Digable Planets rapped riddles in smoke-cloaked Greenwich Village cellars? There are other contributors out West.

After all, nothing is more jazz than druggy with hoes. Big K. Return of 4eva , his second full-fledged mix-album-tape, shows clearly that his song making skills extend to album construction. Along with its striking structure, the beats are also just dope, with just as much artistry and individual conflict. This is lowriding UGK bounce with Jiminy Cricket in the back seat, tempering everything with morality and restraint.

The fact that a project this long can remain this engaging is a major testament to K. Every song sounds vital. He is lyrically and sonically exploring and examining the genre and his own character. Like his favorite rapper , Serengeti has always worn a mask. The fake mustaches of the bratwurst-loving Kenny Dennis are temporarily banished. In their stead are idiotic nose-jobbed California bloggers, dead-beat dads, anxiety attacks, heroin junkies, down and out UFC Fighters, and pathological lying bigamists.

Serengeti could never send an impersonator to perform. So is the self-appraisal: long ears and a short tongue. With each album, Serengeti has evolved as writer. There is no pre-existing rap archetype for a dude like this. Half of the songs are adroitly hollowed out by Yoni Wolf of Why? Rap has always been suffused with decay and tragedy, but rarely has it been so saturnine.

Machinedrum — Room s [ Planet Mu ]. On paper, this is a dicey proposition — at least Burial had the decency to let UK Garage crumble before bringing it back from the dead. Everything gets chopped, blended and thrown in the mix: house pianos, s, break beats, vocals and more in the search for the ultimate party. Be prepared, wayward rap fans, loving 10 Haters is to nerd the fuck out on a couple of dudes spitting the weirdest shit that springs from the dark recesses of the left side of the brain.

This is unapologetic nerd rap without being idiotically nerd-core. Dubstep is dead. Long live Dubstep. The foundation of You Stand Uncertain is as slippery as its name suggests. This record feels like evaporation, a series of apologies carefully worded, crumbling underwater castles conjured by closed eyes, and a CD case of late 80s rave, analog house, jungle, and garage thrown into a fire. The effect is disorienting but blissful, sublime but aware that time means erosion.

You Stand Uncertain is electronic jazz extracted and re-constituted to leave you without a compass. Blame Drew Lustman for the disorientation—BK-based and shrouded by hoodies. This record conjures the feeling of being 8 years old and attempting to sleep on a Saturday night when your parents are still out, but all you can do is eavesdrop on the killer party next door. You wake up 20 years later, to juxtapose those dusty memories and re-arrange the chords like furniture. But everything is slightly off; the colors are a little less bright and the mood is more come down than all conquering.

Time will always win. But melodies remain, uncertain and hanging with the lonely iridescence of Christmas lights in January. Kotto made a career out of playing blue-collar bruisers: physically intimidating men railing against the inequality of the system at every possible opportunity. Every utterance, every moan and cry on his debut album No Time For Dreaming is frightening and compelling in equal parts.

The 62 year-old has many decades of struggle to draw upon, including a life growing up on the streets and all sorts of nickel and dime jobs from Maine to Alaska. Having Tom Brenneck on production helps. No Time For Dreaming is half a century of hardship distilled into 40 minutes of pain, heartache, longing and love.

He may be in his early 60s, but Bradley has the feel of a man gathering his strength for the fight ahead. Bring on round two. Zomby — Dedication [ 4AD ]. Sequenced like a great DJ set, Dedication alternately rumbles and recedes with masterful precision. It sounds like Zomby was stuck in the Grid. Rustie — Glass Swords [ Warp ]. I guess Rustie just said screw it, and decided to make the soundtrack to our imminent destruction a year early.

Glass Swords finds movement and melody in the eye of chaos as Rustie transforms a plethora of sources into bright, flat, hyper-kinetic ear candy. Rustie mashes and blurs sound like each song was a marathon 3 minute Tetris game as lurid blocks of color combine intricately for three minutes and disappear in a flash. No matter how many elements Rustie adds to the mix nothing seems out of place or forced. If this is the soundtrack to our descent into the void maybe the other side will only be that much better.

Following the release of their eighth album The King of Limbs in May, Radiohead arguably had their most successful year to date. Never before has a rock band been able to so seamlessly incorporate jazz and electronic music in to their own unique songwriting style. Yorke has previously discussed the influence of Eastern philosophy and The Tibetan Book of the Dead in interviews, and while his lyrics in the past have portrayed this quite clearly, the similarities between the cycle of reincarnation and the song order on the King of Limbs are striking.

While some songs may not stand out as much as others, when looking at from this perspective, it becomes clear that each one has a particular purpose and meaning. It was an unlikely, gentle soul who lead the charge. It closes with the image of his lost love taking off in a spaceship, leaving him behind on an Earth on the verge of apocalypse.

We feel empathy and see him as a fully formed protagonist as he stumbles from song to song and girl to girl on his brilliant debut. Props are due to Kurt Vile. He managed to get to his fourth album before his psyche started cracking.

His songs sound like elliptical fever dreams, full of rambling half-poetry written under storm clouds. The contrasts were telling. This bridge in sound Budnick has built, and the bridge he has crossed in terms of fanbase, suggests legs.

A future rather than a fad. Wooden Shjips — West [ Thrill Jockey ]. West is a sprawling monolith even by psych-rock standards. But when the central theme of your album is the vast expanse of the American West, you can assure the free-flowing highway and blazing hot sun vibe is present by design.

Texturally, rhythmically, and songwriting-wise, West is the perfect road-trip record for people who use their iPods to drown out the subway. Many of these songs have the rare distinction of being measured bursts of intense, chess-champion-level concentration disguised as freewheeling, hands-off-the-rail jams, the rhythm section fusing together and running like a machine while guitarist Ripley Johnson breaks away from his main riff to sputter sparks from his guitar.

Some bands have the game all fucked up. In an attempt to smooth the edges of their sound, they sand them completely off, trying to become more accessible by completely removing what made them compelling in the first place. They streamlined their more outre tendencies; they went headlong into the unbeaten path while still remaining compulsively listenable, maybe even more listenable than they have ever been. West is the sound of a great band stepping into rarefied air, delivering the classic album their devoted cult of fans knew they had in them.

My grandmother is 80 years old and still murmuring memories about ballroom dances with deceased partners over a half-century ago. Lost nights at the Coconut Grove, swinging to the soft jazz and clarinet trill of her and my cousin, Benny Goodman. The Caretaker is Leyland Kirby. For months, it was the soundtrack to every drive home at a. An Empty Bliss allowed me to see underneath the costume of the city.

I devised pleasurable delusions: driving through art deco LA, carbon street lights and glittering movie palaces. The streets flushed free of cars until I was gliding in an iron horse straight from The Big Sleep. I could lurch into the hills, searching for loose dames and dangerous goons drink three high ball lunches, and make passes at femme fatales with Rita Hayworth hair. Every teenage anthem and oath eventually becomes an oldie.

This was like listening to the best station that may never have existed. Critics who labelled Live. The idea that Rocky is New York via Houston is convenient but ill fitting. Rocky is more post-modern than post-regional, dipping into styles and subcultures like a writer borrowing genre to suit his needs.

He drops into the pocket with a few bars of breathy, rapid fire Cleveland spit mid-verse, he slows it down with a little melodic Texan flow. Yes, Rocky is rapping about lean and occasionally screws his vocals, but the words are delivered a crisp, distinctly East Coast cadence. Rocky changes a regional sound that benefits from a modicum of Gotham discipline.

We rarely spoke. Her first record , a transfiguration of poems by Dorothy Parker, was one of my favourite folk releases of the past 25 years. Shyness then, from both of us. But also, I think, a tacit recognition of the work we were each undertaking: the wordless solidarity of our effort and our love.

It appears twice, as an instrumental and then again like this, translated into French. Gendron's "Shenandoah II " is low-fidelity, slow-motion, an expression of love and longing that seems to transcend place and time, from colonial Missouri to post-colonial Montreal; but the singer also makes a subtle shift to its lyrics, lifting the song away from the Rocky Mountains and into an expression of devotion that stretches far further, beyond any measure, to the very ends of the Earth "jusqu'au bout de la terre".

Wau Wau Collectif - "Mouhamodou Lo and His Children" [ buy ] A tune like the best kind of fairy tale, tender and magical, ancient and youthful, visited by a saxophone and a flying saucer. Mouhamoudou Lo may well be the name of the main male voice; the children might be his children; I don't know, I just close my eyes and imagine them, peaceful and playful, bathed in a cosmic folk music.

Katy J Pearson and Maudlin - "Willie of Winsbury" [ buy ] For six months I've been smitten, unreasonably smitten, by this bizarre, cross-pollinated rendition of "Willie of Winsbury"—a British traditional dating back to Katy J Pearson's from Bristol; Maudlin's from not-sure-where; and from an instrumental perspective they give the tune all appropriate pomp and filigree. But Pearson's more Dolly Parton than Sandy Denny—instead of singing it flat and windy, she gives the tune a shrill, urgent tremolo.

The country-folk inversion is strange and sour and faintly science-fiction, as if it comes from a universe with different maps. But Dacus has the songwriter's gift of saying a lot with a little, and her doubled vocals think Andy Shauf or Elliott Smith lend tenderness to "VBS"' luckless, lonely, lovely thump. A song like a crucifix uncertainly worn. Amyl and the Sniffers - "Guided by Angels" [ buy ] Punk-rock from Australia: Amy Taylor snarls her salvation, pogo-ing in place as divine light pours from her nipples, her nostrils, the points of her middle-fingertips.

Sault - "Bitter Streets" [ more ] Sault, the winners of , didn't rise to the same heights in , but they probably made more money: the group's bandleader, Inflo, produced three tracks on the new Adele record not to mention two much better albums by Cleo Sol and Little Simz.

In June they released Nine , their fifth album in 25 months, and "Bitter Streets" was the highlight: an uncanny, groovy ballad; a little Gladys Knight and a little Connan Mockasin; a classic sound made contemporary, all its light dispersed. Charlotte Cardin - "Daddy" [ buy ] I'm not usually susceptible to the idea of a guilty pleasure but this song is called daddy, and it's not a tune about Cardin's father.

I find the phrase inane, vaguely odious—so imagine my surprise and reluctance : "Daddy" is by far my favourite recording of the Montreal singer's career. Never mind the lyrics, or try your best: listen instead to the melody's drift and flutter; to the band's quick, scrupulous groove. Possibly the easiest listen of the year assuming you don't understand English.

Mustafa - "The Hearse" [ buy ] Mustafa the Poet's magisterial debut album invents a new kind of sound: soft-textured folk music about street violence and its collateral damage, informed by hip-hop but only scarcely, like a common weather. It's neither a love song nor a war song, it's a lament cast in ecstasy—the dangerous pleasure of a common fate. But the family connection made me hold this song to a higher standard, frankly. Nervy and electric with just enough sweetness, especially in its closing bars, to bring a happy ending to life.

The video plays with mirrors, doubling, but the song's as much about separation as togetherness: a flower-soft synth-pop tune asking what love is if it doesn't involve subsubming the other, swallowing them up. Coldplay - "Higher Power" [ video ] I like Coldplay—except when they're terrible, which is increasingly often, but not here, on a tune co-written by Max Martin, a song that's breathless, kinetic, alive with a sincere and expansive joy.

Tierra Whack - "Stand Up" [ buy ] A bone-dry beat. A rapper with one obsidian eye and one opal. Something faintly Yorgos Lanthimos about her—and not just the Favorite -inspired video. Lisa LeBlanc - "Entre toi pi moi pi la corde de bois" [ buy ] I was quickly taken with his teaser-track from LeBlanc's upcoming Chiac Disco the title's an allusion to the singer's distinctive strain of Acadian French and, um, the popular s dance craze. Leo Bhanji - "Damaged" [ buy ] A song like a sort of incantation—bedroom musings mumbled and deconstructed alongside samples from past, present, future: Dilla?

Metal Gear Solid? I adore the shimmer of it, the simultaneous thinness and presence, like smoke hanging in the air. Martha Wainwright - "Love Will be Reborn" [ buy ] Martha recorded her last record just up the street from me, in her own tiny venue, with musicians from the supernatural music group Bernice. There's a little of in it; and a little of ; but this tune is simply a song about love and its rebirth, that uncounted-on redemption; and she sings the hell out of it.

Doja Cat ft. Love a song like the soundtrack to a mellow amusement-park ride. Love Doja Cat's alternating flows, the way she uses a change of cadence to electrify a verse. Little Simz ft. Obongjayar - "Point and Kill" [ buy ] Little Simz executes this song with a clear conscience, an even stare. Her new record, Sometimes I Might Be Introvert , is a massive leap forward—it lifts Little Simz to the ranks of my favourite rappers working today.

But the centre is hers, bright and mighty, true to itself as fruit on a tree. Nioke's vocals interweave across synths, woodwinds, and traditional African instruments; each repetition feels like a subtle rearrangement of the air. Ethel Cain - "Crush" [ buy ] Swathed in Floridian sunlight, draped in the flannel of the Jesus and Mary Chain, the songwriter Ethel Cain drifts in and out of phase—ghost and portent.

Gayance - "Fruta Gogoia" [ buy ] Montreal's Gayance transforms Gal Costa's performance of "Fruta Gogoia" from something sober and nearly morose into a site of eerie play—a sound that's upbeat, funky, yet at the same time weirdly haunted, like a dancefloor inherited in a will. Taylor Swift - "Holy Ground Taylor's version " [ buy ] Taylor Swift re-recorded all of her album Red because she doesn't control the masters of the original version.

This was a matter either of principle, pique, stubbornness or greed. If it was principle, I'd encourage the singer to do more to change this practice industry-wide. Whatever the motivation, some of the re-recorded versions are better and some of them are worse: "Holy Ground" is improved, kicked up another notch, a little of the twang swapped-out for raw stomp.

I'm not sure this song benefits from a wiser singer: some mistakes ring truer when they're newer. But I hear more pleasure in Swift's voice here—she knows even better the preciousness of a song like this and its singing. If it were a calendar it'd be lunar; if it was a clock, it'd cuckoo. Justin Bieber - "Stay" [ buy ] Like getting a tattoo of your ex on the itchiest part of your body. Madi Diaz - "Nervous" [ buy ] The buzz of a headache, the buzz of a guitar-string, the buzz of a crush and its occasionally ill-effects.

Madi Diaz's voice dips and crests like a swallow that can't quit its mate, like a ball on a string just waiting to get whapped. Abstract Mindstate - "A Wise Tale" [ stream ] One of this year's oddly slept-on stories was Abstract Mindstate, an earlys hip-hop duo resurrected by the interest of—and production by—Kanye West. With a smart, conscious style that's leagues away from West's recent escapades, the Chicago MCs delivered a strong album filled with the kind of soul samples that made a certain bygone rap era feel so agreeable.

Lithe and lilting, with a rhythm like the click and crackle of ice in a highball. Natalie Bergman - "Talk to the Lord" [ buy ] Crooked kitchen-sink gospel, where that crookedness is the thing that gives it life. Like the twinkle of a clean plate on a dirty dish-rack, profane proof for the existence of God. Sweeping Promises - "Pain Without a Touch" [ buy ] That first riff like a stab in the back; then they keep coming, one after another, and you turn toward the knife, happy as a clam.

Everything about this garage-rock tune is braided around the chorus, the title, with Lira Mondal singing like a breathless, alpine Neko Case. Anna Fox Rochinski - "Cherry" [ buy ] Quilt's Anna Fox Rochinski rides a rainbow road of twanging guitars and Mariah Carey mini-runs on the way to "Cherry"'s steady, chiming ruby of a chorus. A song of emotional vampires, the way we're all hiding sets of fangs.

Katy Kirby - "Traffic! At times just gentle singer-songwritery, almost straight-ahead, but with moments of slight refraction—whether it's autotune, twang or a swell of synthetic angels. Cleo Sol - "Spirit" [ buy ] The singer of my favourite and fifth-favourite songs of last year returns with a more serene, quietened record the title is Mother ; "Spirit" is one of its serene, slightly-less-quiet treasures.

Billie Eilish - "I Didn't Change My Number" [ buy ] I really like this grimly swinging Billie Eilish tune—it's a kiss-off and a threat, but most of the violence is tucked inside the chords and synth patches, like a cheerful greeting-card scratched in poison ink.

Isolate just the piano part and "Will to Power"'s anemic, almost rinkydink—but that's like ignoring the heat as you hurtle into a star: Lillard howls like a villain at the end of a Bond movie, spittle flying, roaring about what he's done and what he's due. Sun-EL Musician ft. Simmy - "Higher" [ buy ] A South African sunrise. But "Animal" and the record it's from, Animal avoid the stale safeness that a description like that might suggest.

There's instead something probiotic to this music: twitchy, alive, with a slightly carbonated tang. But there's no getting away from "Chaise Longue"'s sleek, sealskin appeal: a ticking clock, catchy riffs, and Rhian Teasdale's stern purr about "buttered muffins" and her lover's Brobdingnagian D.

Ayra Starr - "Bloody Samaritan" [ video ] From Nigeria, a shot against the bow that ripples and pulses yet is suffused with a melancholy, nearly crestfallen, spirit. Lil Nas X ft. Wolf Alice are one of the world's best bands, with a command of sound that is occasionally almost too much—leaves me longing for a little more fumble or flop.

Jose Gonzalez - "Tjomme DJ Koze remix " [ buy ] There are a couple of tunes I love on Local Valley , Gonzalez's latest "Lilla J" and "El Invento" especially , but I just can't resist the way DJ Koze remade "Tjomme," folding and unfolding it, leaving creases all over, different ways to arrange it, to hear it, each repetition like a day or a week or a month or a year, take 2, take 3, take 10, you still have time to change the final cast.

Le Mav ft. Tay Iwar - "Supersonic" [ more ] Silky Nigerian pop that waits almost an entire minute before showing its hand: that's when the knock comes, brrup tup , a call anyone in their right mind would answer. Julien Sagot - "Cendre et descendre" [ buy ] A song like one of those "cartoons for grown-ups" where someone walks along a grey, night-lit street while flames gutter and flare from the stormgrates. Vive les bandits, vive les bandits! A lament and a weary joke for this land and all its greed.

Sofia Kourtesis - "La Perla" [ buy ] Techno in white, off-white, eggshell, ivory, linen, alabaster, porcelain, cream, seashell. A prayer, a holiday, a clean set of sheets. Aldous Harding - "Old Peel" [ buy ] A song that's there for the taking, for the misinterpretation.

Sheets of Easter, feats of Easter— hot clown and the creek is turning. It might be a spell and it might be a memoir—a Canterbury Tales for a woman who has seen too much, who learned sorcery from a one-legged lecher. And a final thump from a blackjack down upon your head. Tion Wayne - "Wow" [ buy ] Brutal, bounding drill music—a tune that bounces like the recoil from a pistol or a hammer. Hand Habits - "Aquamarine" [ buy ] Dusky synth-pop about the heaviest things—deception, suicide, parenthood—but glittering here, skittering, a singer who has learned to make candles come back to life just by pointing at them.

Arooj Aftab - "Mohabbat" [ buy ] Glittering Persian folk-music—the production's at times too glittering in fact, like trying to see into a sequin room. But Aftab's voice is supple and steady, a bearer of feelings more complex than mere shine. Spinabenz ft. Yes: a celebration of gang killings built atop a sparkly "Thousand Miles" sample. It's certainly not the most gruesome tune I've ever loved, but the mixture of violence, delight and something like "sincerity" is genuinely unsettling.

Vanessa Carlton, for the record, has no problem with it. Fiver - "June Like A Bug" [ buy ] Mystical folk-country that takes the month of June and rolls it in iridescent butterfly parts, fly parts, grasshopper parts. Sorrow and fury, acceptance and resistance, the pinch of a pin as it pierces the fabric of your shirt. It's the arrowlike trajectory of Polwart's voice but also, and maybe especially, the cool plainness of Milligan's piano.

A song not washed in suds and flowerpetals but swept by wind. Barrie - "Dig" [ buy ] A weird northwestern grit-of-teeth—angry, needy, nearly tropical! Like a Peter Doig painting of a Casiotone song. A song of finding your heart has broken open ; of letters you may or may not decide to burn. Daniel Romano's closing guitar solo sets the end of the song alight, makes it all into tinder, filling the sky with smoke.

Neil Young in cotton pyjamas. Worlasi - "Fkn Guy" [ buy ] Wry and lighthearted pop about the infuriating allure of From Ghana. Fake Fruit - "No Mutuals" [ buy ] From Oakland, California—a singer with an excellent, blunted punk shout; a band with growl and grin in their guitars; and a message to a fool who's making trouble.

Big Red Machine ft. La Force - "am" [ buy ] Bon Iver and Aaron Dessner and friends—or at least one friend, La Force's incandescent Ariel Engle—perform a song of moments, of impressionistic glimpses, glances, the chill of dawn and the black of night, the way a memory ties a gold cord around your heart and stays there, tightening, loosening, tightening again. Tirzah - "Send Me" [ buy ] Like Sam Cooke crossed with an industrial-grade printing press: somewhere that's blasted twice a day with compressed air, its components sprayed down with bleach.

Tirzah allows her wanting to sound rudimentary, nearly childlike—but she combines these stripped-down vocals with a clockmaker's vision, specific and meticulous, selecting whatever gear will make the song shiver. Katie Crutchfield released an expanded version this year, with a few covers—including this take on Bruce Springsteen's classic, a favourite tune from my teenage years, which I heard first during a classmate's oral presentation.

Her name was Ramona; thanks, Ramona! Either Crutchfield's voice fits your heart like a key, I suppose, or else it doesn't; but I'm a flimsy cabinet. Tenderness remains. Ada Lea - "Damn" [ buy ] A proud addition to the tradition of songs that take place when you're having a bad time at a party. Together they make a sound that feels like it could endure, lending itself to future trouble. Wet - "Larabar" [ buy ] A melting, lonely tune, falling apart at the seams.

Every era learns a different way to come apart. Tristen - "Complex" [ buy ] I just love the way Tristen rhymes complex with complex , the repetition fitting itself like a set of red solo cups. Tristen's Tristen Gaspadarek; she's a Nashville songwriter with a band keeping pace beside her—all of them on horses, cantering through the morning, not yet thinking about lunch. Each of them offers a different flavour of Carly Rae Jepsenesque delights, and "Cooped Up" is my favourite of the bunch: eager, breezy, happy as a bluebird with its particular quarantine situation.

Yuma Abe - "Omaemo" [ buy ] Sun-kissed Japanese folk, like Mac DeMarco after 10 years of office work—finally over himself, alert to his good fortune, staring happily at the flowers in the window. Dntel - "Fall in Love" [ buy ] For The Seas Trees See , the long-time electronica-maker and Postal Service co-founder known as Dntel turned his sights to traditional folk music, borrowing acapellas such as Kate Wolf's "The Lilac and the Apple Tree" and warming them, bending them, twisting them back on themselves.

I couldn't work out where he got the pieces for "Fall In Love," but I love the weird, burred thing he made with them—turning a clear-voiced tune cloudy, making plainsong feel alien. Rozi Plain - "Silent Fan" [ buy ] An unsettling admiration. On this Adult Swim single, the English singer-songwriter takes the notion of the "fan," the admirer, and turns it in the light, exploring its facets, the shadow it leaves upon the velvet. There's a peacefulness to "Silent Fan," a wary readiness—the sense that Plain is up to the task—but at the same time a tremor underneath: from saxophone and even weirder things, worrying at the edges.

Tuns - "My Memories" [ buy ] I suspect that almost everyone who has watched Get Back has asked themselves, "Shouldn't everyone make music like this? Her music is clean. It's unhurried. It will hang in the air, sad and old-souled, until whenever it is it's needed. Dry Cleaning - "Every Day Carry" [ buy ] Make it to the far side of the canyon in the second half of "Every Day Carry" and you will feel like you have gulped down gasoline, the fancy kind of gasoline, Ultra Super-essence of whatever it's called, the sort of thing that makes your muscles go wiry and your eyes glow red.

Soaking wet, because someone dipped it in the moat. Fragrantly perfumed, because somebody sprayed it with oud. And when you hold your ear up close to it? You hear the Benny Goodman Band. But the lyrics say otherwise—lines about gay lovers fleeing Texas in the 70s, taking refuge in New Orleans.

Maybe the joke's what they find there: a series of pratfalls and punchlines, happy disasters, true love sputtering while dub reverb fires. Liars - "Sekwar" [ buy ] The sinister squelch of an asshole ascendant: but Angus Andrew tastes his trouble; he knows what he's got isn't good for him. But "Thank You" somehow balances pleasure and contempt, shimmying backward across the room even as it rolls its eyes.

And that's songs, if my counting's correct. Thank you for reading! Thank you for listening! Sorry for any broken links, please pay for the music you love. Invest in what's important or it will go away. Don't be strangers. Sean, you're right - this feels like a holiday tradition at this point. Christmas lights, apple cider, Said the Gramophone. Now that STG is largely dormant I start feeling a free floating anxiety around the end of every November: Will this be the year we don't get one?

The arc of the internet bends towards sucking. Good things go away, or are hoovered up by larger entities and made bad. A handful of companies are remorselessly trying to funnel us into sanitized, Disneyfied walled gardens where anything goes turns into nothing remains. Nothing worth bothering with, anyway. Your year-end lists are a dispatch from an earlier age: a chaotic frontier called the World Wide Web that no one really had a grip on but anyone could stake out a little piece of land on.

The invitation arrives in my RSS reader - here's some highlights of the year; download and listen; support the artists and buy their music. Thank you, Sean. Great list otherwise! Thank you, Sean - I was expecting to see L'Rain on this year's list, but it's always a thrill to find so much I'm unfamiliar with as you never fail to unveil a few songs that become my favourites of the year.

Seasons greetings, hope to hear from you again in Thank you so much again for your One thing though, I can not download the folders on zippyshare. All i've got are fishy adds. Anything you can do? Thank you for keeping tradition going. Hey --its December. Time to hope and look and see and Merry fucking Xmas, its another ! From the comments it looks like its a bunch of regulars fulfilling their longing, so Thanks Sean!

Several finds in the first pass thru. And if yer a newbie, browse the archives. Where else will you ever read a review like "Either Crutchfield's voice fits your heart like a key, I suppose, or else it doesn't; but I'm a flimsy cabinet"? This guy has taste well beyond the good horizon, and the words to make it even better. Always look forward to this list; hours of great listening and many artists that are new to me.

Thank you! I literally make it a big part of December to run to this blog every year. Thank you for another year of great tunes! Thank you. This is always a highlight, and always a revelation of so many great things that i would never had found on my own. Also, an inconsequential heads-up: it's Ed Dowie, not Downie! Though I'd like to imagine him being a distant cousin of Gord.

Thank you, as ever, Sean for this seasonal treat. I enjoy seeing a handful of my own favourites in the list, and enjoy discovering new favourites from the rest. One of the highlights to the end of my year each year. I always discover some new gems I love and this year was no exception. Thank you!!! Thanks, Sean! It's always such a treat to dig through your list and read your writing. I truly appreciate the effort!

The best traditions are ones that sneak up on you. This song portal is one of the highlights of my holiday season. I don't put up a stocking anymore, but I look forward to this playlist the same way I looked forward to a stuffed sock every Christmas as a kid.

Thanks for a gift that keeps on giving Sean! As always, this list is one of my favorite parts of the holiday season. I still check STG occasionally throughout the year, and I'm sad to see fewer and fewer updates But as long as the top list keeps happening, I will never complain. It's a little oasis in the midst of the ever-growing garbage fire that is the modern internet, and a throwback to simpler times. Email Address required :. Type the word 'rhythm' below. The genius of punk is eternally on the move, a fugitive spirit inspiring the crabby, smart, and sensitive around the globe.

My favourite new jam is by woman-fronted Moroccan Taqwacore crew Taqbir. Blasting out of Tangier, their four song EP is a furious gust of universal hardcore. A fluid phased-out bass drives the lead song "Sma3. The vocals are powerful, fresh, vital, and fueled by a surfeit of rage at hypocrisy and greed, made explicit by the Crass-level agitprop cover graphics. This crucial EP is another entry in the forever-expanding catalogue of brilliant punk from everywhere, an atlas of discontent and shredding.

Maghrebi hardcore forever! Bonnie "Prince" Billy - "Thick Air" [ buy on bandcamp ]. Until the beginning of June, Nova Scotia was under third-wave lockdown, and now we're in Phase 2 of reopening. It seems we're climbing out of the tunnel, or coming round the valley bend, or opening the shutters.

I don't know, global pandemics seem to lend themselves so readily to metaphor, but in the moment none of them feel really right. Admittedly, that's pretty low on their list of negatives, but a good metaphor would have helped, as I surfed through all the different eras, all the new normals packed tightly into the last fifteen months. The closest sonic analogue I found to the cramped feeling of second lockdown is this song from Bonnie "Prince" Billy.

Cheeky clarinet, springy drums, and capacious upright bass provide a sure-footed backdrop to Bonnie's reassuring baritone. And something great is coming. In the quarter-century since I first encountered Will Oldham, the warbling kid cinematographer has been replaced by a bone-tired elder statesman, doggedly celebrating life despite all its losses and disappointments, encouraging us to look up and notice "the thick air of promise" surging by.

This song is a life-raft, a consolation. It has buoyed me countless times throughout the past uncertain months. It is the great covid song, even if it was released on 's I Made a Place. Most likely, it is about Oldham taking care of his parents at the end of their lives, but nothing else fits the static mood of covid year two, a time when the right metaphor has been so difficult to find.

It's summer now and I'm feeling Gramophone-y. I'll try to post here over the coming weeks. Hope everyone is holding on this song sounded magical when you first sent it to me in May and it still sends magical now, a hand extended - that you're actually permitted to take!!! Hard to believe that song wasn't actually written for this moment.

It is perfect. Thanks for sharing! These are my favourite songs of songs I love more than solitude, take-out and the immune-responses of bats. What a hell year. What a nightmare. What an endless shit parade. We have lived inside an avalanche. We have sunk to the bottom of the sea.

We have survived isolation and deprivation and loneliness and loss; we have ordered deliveries; we have strived; we have applied alcohol to our hands. We have come this far and promise me we will keep on going somehow, in kindness and in solidarity, with songs on our lips. Early in this year's pandemic, as monotony and worry unfurled, I began posting again.

Then I stopped. But life got very small and it's going to stay small, I suspect, for a little while. This here is the 16th list like this at Said the Gramophone: see , , , , , , , , , , , , , and I have also created a Spotify playlist for these tunes. Update: And Apple Music.

However, please pay for the music you enjoy. Giving money to Spotify is insufficient ; Bandcamp is much better. This list is the work of me, Sean, and not any of Said the Gramophone's other contributors. Don't blame them for my questionable taste. You can also follow me on Twitter. Please read my books! I'm the author of two novels— Us Conductors , from , which reimagines the story of the theremin , and The Wagers , a novel about luck, which was recently optioned by Hulu.

Among the acts below, 39 are generally American, 27 are Canadian, 14 are British and there are five Nigerian, four South African, three Australian, two Norwegian, one German, one Tanzanian, one Argentinian, one Portuguese, one Danish and one Kiwi artist. I promise: all of these are fantastic. Sault - "Wildfires" [ buy ] The central flaw—the only flaw? White supremacy seems able to survive anything, from war to protest to a worldwide pandemic.

Yet the force of this track, the vow at its heart, is the promise of undoing. A dagger wrapped in velvet, a voice and a bassline, Cleo Sol's pledge that she "will always rise"—as all her numberless companions nod along. Waxahatchee - "Fire" [ buy ] From one fire to another, this one less rampant: the scorch of a river in sunset, a heart in revision. Katie Crutchfield's voice cuts through and crosses lines, vivid in ways other voices cannot be.

And a groove that's so simple, just a couple of branches and a chemical reaction—watch it burst into flame. The part of this song that most gets me, the alchemy in it, is a moment around , when the drums and guitar Crutchfield's voice all seem to collide, overlapping, not quite in order, unfastening my locks like a skeleton key. All that stuff made too much sense. Weather Station - "The Robber" [ buy ] The lead single from Tamara Lindeman's lustrous new album full disclosure: i wrote the bio is infused with a sinister, shadow-edged desire.

There are shades of Talk Talk, and even Serge Gainsbourg, but Lindeman is as patient as a ruby, unburdened by the anxiety of influence. She sings in a slow, low vocal, aware of how easily her voice can hug the strings' or bassline's curve—aware of how little it takes to be tugged along, complicit, or how small a spark can catch on dry tinder and ignite.

Judging from the name of that very secretive group, she was one of its founders. Between Sault and her own debut, the London singer has released five albums since the beginning of ; an astonishing run, and while "Wildfires" was at 's summit, I found myself turning more often to her solo record.

Rose in the Dark is tender and personal, aptly named—and "Why Don't You" shivers with feeling, a complicated feeling, closer to an Alice Munro short story than to an Usher ballad. Through strings and woodwinds, Sol narrates a relationship's worries and pitfalls, its risks and its fruit. Perfume Genius - "Describe" [ buy ] Set My Heart On Fire Immediately is like portal after portal—each song seems to contain sounds I've never heard, combinations I've never imagined, like a rewiring of human sensuality.

God knows I listened to a lot of Bridgers this year, although mostly from her last record , and I know I wasn't alone. People don't say enough about her qualities as a singer —a trusty plaintiveness that reminds me of Julie Doiron. No matter Bridgers' sorrows, no one could ever blow her away; she won't budge, she's not a pushover.

She'll stand all day in the rain. And yet she imbues her voice with kindness, warmth—as if it'll all turn out OK, those wounds will heal, she'll text you on your birthday and maybe even call. This Is The Kit - "Started Again" [ buy ] Folk music that glitters like polished wood, aluminium foil, the inside of a hadron collider.

Haim - "Don't Wanna" [ buy ] In a sense it's a song of forgiveness: someone's done wrong and she's willing to take them back. But it won't be easy. Mac Miller - "Circles" [ buy ] There is an unexpected flavour to Mac Miller's final album, released a little over a year after his accidental overdose death. Jon Brion—who had been working with the rapper—completed it posthumously, and the producer's fingerprints are all over the songs: Circles sounds as much like Aimee Mann's Bachelor No.

Apparently these were Miller's wishes—that his sixth LP feel more Gen X than Gen Y—and to be honest, particularly in this elegiac light, it mostly works. For me, the title track is the clear standout: pensive and hopeful, the dryness of Miller's voice counterbalancing the sweetness of Brion's arrangement. Buddy Ross ft. Gabriel Delicious - "Bored Again!

DJ Stokie ft. Beautifully arrayed with flute and percussion, with a gleaming house-music heart: and yet wound tight, taut throughout, the pleasures doled out with precision. I first heard it on the radio last winter and I felt like I was having a seizure, the most petit of mal s—the universe folding and unfolding, winking at us through the sky. Paak - "Lockdown" [ video ] COVID and the George Floyd protests have finally produced the kind of political music we've been promised since the US election—not just timely but frequently excellent , and gratefully received not because I Like Being Entertained although I do but because it's a fucking relief, maybe even a respite, to receive a song that can answer the call of the moment.

It's a way for one's heart to be kept company. Paak is dry-eyed here but his rhymes are supple, with stings hidden in their tails, and the whole song feels like work , good work, when it's getting done: check, yup, no problem—what's next? Good Sad Happy Bad - "Shades" [ buy ] What begins as a mournful dose of ambient noise emerges unexpectedly into a nearly conventional midtempo rock song. While there's something of the Velvet Underground or Squeeze to "Shades," that would only be true if Squeeze were melting wax figures, if Velvet Underground were being reconstituted from their elemental particles.

Jaunty at moments, even supersonic, there are other times when this song feels just a few degrees shy of falling apart. Sinister and dreamlike, but Corriveau's fixed his gimlet eye on something literally close to him: the fucked-up relationship between Settlers and Indigenous people. Future Islands - "Thrill" [ buy ] A ballad as slow as spring thaw. Samuel Herring sings a rueful love-song to himself, a prayer or a promise, an affirmation, his rough voice making way for the majesty of "Thrill"'s chords.

Against All Logic - "If Loving You Is Wrong" [ buy ] Nicolas Jaar's music takes so many shapes—supple electronica, crushing techno, soundtracks for extra-terrestrial love stories and minerals. But Molina's voice is as luminous as ever, a magnolia in the night, and his lyricism is at its height: there's no other songwriter whose words feel so easily, instantly eternal.

It's a twanging, cheerful, synthy lo-fi folk: weird and brilliant and utterly itself. Contemporary post-punk that seems so adamant, that seems to know itself so well, that you can imagine the record trembling on the turntable.

But both seem to extend toward a similar sky—endless and monochromatic, rippling with everything you long for or regret. An absolutely stunning tune from one of Montreal's most intriguing songwriters. Prince Kaybee ft. Here's Prince Kaybee's investment advice.

Gillian Welch - "Picasso" [ buy ] Gillian Welch's amazing Lost Songs sets—three discs of unreleased home recordings laid down to meet a publishing deadline—are full of treasures. Forget Dylan, frankly—those words! She makes it sound so easy.

Pa Salieu ft Mahalia - "Energy" [ buy ] The English MC Pa Salieu is among my very favourite new rappers—a guy whom I would listen to reciting the phone book, although there are no phone books, so instead perhaps the daily COVID statistics or, much preferably, this lovely tune with Mahalia, by far the warmest moment on Send Them To Coventry , which I like to imagine as a very hard man's endorsement of self-care.

Sam Lynch - "Keeping Time" [ buy ] I love the way this song unveils itself: restful, patient, like a box full of objects examined one by one. Startlingly great music by a singer-songwriter from BC. Alabaster dePlume - "Not My Ask" [ buy ] One of my very favourite albums of the year was an oddity by a London musician for whom instrumental jazz is not standard fare. The - "The Birthday Party" [ buy ] Although Notes on a Conditional Form was a disappointment, the are still for my money the most interesting big commercial rock band in the world.

My favourite tune on the record was this—a kindly, dopey ballad, nostalgic and confessional, like if Knausgaard wrote a song for Lorde. Lido Pimienta - "Te Queria" [ buy ] It's the steel drums that get me on this one, or the joyous crossfire in the song's second half, basking in the ease of Polaris Prize-winning! Lido Pimienta. The Strokes - "The Adults are Talking" [ buy ] It was a great and abiding reassurance in to find that the Strokes still got exactly the same and undeviating it.

Omah Lay - "Lo Lo" [ buy ] The sun-kissed ease of "Lo Lo," the loll of it, makes it seem like a time-traveler: a song not born of this year. Maybe Omah Lay's been sitting on it—waiting until it was needed. Yves Jarvis - "Semula" [ buy ] I feel like Yves Jarvis makes folk songs, or bedroom pop songs, and then gradually takes away the components.

Like a game of new age Jenga: block after block after block and yet still somehow standing at the end, those little pieces of wood, gleaming in the sun. Austra - "Risk It" [ buy ] It's been a long time since Katie Stelmanis was primarily known for her gigantic pipe-organ of a voice. I'm not sure that this has ever been clearer for me than on "Risk It"—as drum'n'bass skitters, synth-horns blurt, and Stelmanis hangs her hook on a squidged up, silken chipmunk squeak.

Bad Bunny ft Sech - "Ignorantes" [ buy ] Today I played with my son in the living-room, a game of pigs and yeti, scampering over mountaintops, and as I did so I listened to Bad Bunny, because I have taken to listening to new music while we play, these days, because I can't listen to music the ways I normally do. At a certain point I was listening to "Ignorantes" for the fifth time in a row, like a tonic, like drinking a healthful tonic, another dose of quinine and orange juice.

Plants and Animals - "Love That Boy" [ buy ] Plants and Animals play a song of peace and love but you can still hear it—the fraying nerves, the strain, everything that nags at the edges. Dagny - "Somebody" [ buy ] Dagny made what was arguably the year's best straight pop record—skittering Scandinavian synths with great drums and soaring, silver-sewn melodies. Cut from the same cloth as Robyn's Body Talk era but boy could you do worse. Braids - "Here 4 U" [ buy ] A song of bright synthpop colour, high blue sweetness and grave gold feeling, but Raphaelle Standell-Preston sings as if she's undecorated, nude: the woman at the heart of the vortex, standing before a plate of clear glass.

Gil Scott-Heron and Makaya McCraven - "Me and the Devil" [ buy ] Chicago jazz man Makaya McCraven is the second artist in the past decade to release an entire record of Gil Scott-Heron remixes—a fact that speaks as much to the singer's estate as it does to his lasting influence.

But whereas Jamie XX transformed Scott-Heron's final LP into a work of chill and echo, like an after-hours club, McCraven reasserts the album's downtown tumult: he makes a song like "Me and the Devil" feel pinned to the city, inseparable from it, as if its groove and brio are pouring through the streets. While we're on the topic, McCraven's double-LP, Universal Beings , is unquestionably among my favourite jazz releases of the decade.

I'm bewitched by the chorus—it's absolutely straight-ahead, even rote, but there's this slant to Astrid's singing, five degrees of flaw, which allow it to slip like an arrow through all my armour. Fontaines D. Kurt Vile and John Prine - "How Lucky" [ buy ] In a year that ripped John Prine away from us, at least we have this: he and Kurt Vile singing an old song about fortune and contentedness.

Owen Pallett - "A Bloody Morning" [ buy ] A literal song of shipwreck: a man named Lewis, drunken at the tiller, til the schooner hits a reef. But Owen takes us past the cataclysm into the bloody morning after—and all its sun-traced forgiveness. I live for the pleading whistle at Tierra Whack - "Feel Good" [ video ] One minute and twenty five seconds wherein the visionary rapper Tierra Whack feels really bummed out.

Fiona Apple - "Heavy Balloon" [ buy ] Apple's been holed up with her dogs, her diaries, and in my imagination the first Tune-Yards album. Or on recording apps— volume , gain? Imagine being able to twist each of those knobs to skew the life before you—the daylight, the evening, dream.

Nick Krgovich sings in a murmur over warble and hoot; a keyboard sings a circle; a piano promises that when the ending comes it will be gentle. Adrianne Lenker - "Anything" [ buy ] Even unaccompanied, the Big Thief frontwoman is unafraid of the smallness of her voice: she lets it be as it is, strident and mouselike, sharing hopes and worries, murmuring wishes; a girl casting stones at a window.

Still House Plants - "Shy Song" [ buy ] A song that literally sounds like two songs playing at once, and indeed probably is—but the two-songs are in conversation, affinity, shining back and forth like worn-out semaphore. A band that's aptly named, with music that seems to operate along invisible lines, impossible paths. It's as if Wes Anderson were to collaborate on a project with Animal , each of them tugging for the camera.

Ball Park Music - "Cherub" [ buy ] There's a little of The Shins to this tender, tart guitar ballad—that is until the ending, when the Australian musicians furrow their brows and step on their pedals and blow out all the windows for miles. Thank you, Vinny—more of his picks here. Sylvan Esso - "Rooftop Dancing" [ buy ] A private dance, perhaps; as gusts of sounds flutter through, scraps of whim. Madeline Kenney - "Cut the Real" [ buy ] If "Cut the Real" hadn't been recorded before it would have had to be invented: a slowly pulsing song of "bright light Kenney has a beautiful way of making an incoherent world feel more coherent, as if the fractures are part of the design.

Her latest album, Kind , is a triumph and a culmination—it feels less like a piece of music and more like a home I want to live inside. Fuck this guy, this unkind swindler, but she never lets herself off the hook. The villain's gone now: the protagonist is her. James Blake - "Summer of Now" [ buy ] As someone who prefers Blake's early electronic work to his latterday ballads, I love the way "Summer of Now" gathers force: splintering from a man and his memories to something less steady, more subdivided.

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