Boxes and Bytes: rock

Yep, it's that time again. I get to list my favorite albums of the year. 2010 is a tough gig -- there were many highs (and tons of lows) spanning several genres that tend to attract me. Here in no particular order are the albums that caught my ear, picked me up, slowed me down, made me stop and think, made me laugh, and even at times pissed me off. The best art causes some type of reaction in its consumer, and these all were successful at that.

Roky Erickson w/ Okkervil River: True Love Cast Out All Evil

Roky (Pronounced "Rocky") Erickson is the driving force behind the 13th Floor Elevators. The Elevators had a profound impact on what would eventually be called the "San Francisco" sound in the 60s. Hailing from Austin, the Elevators combined electric blues with Roky's distinct rock n roll wail to define what became known as psychedelic rock. Roky's struggles with drug abuse and mental illness led to a 3-year stint in a hospital for the criminally insane, where he was reportedly subjected to Thorazine, electroshock therapy, and other experimental treatments. While committed, he spent a lot of time writing. After he was released, he connected with fellow Austinites Okkervil River to help bring the songs to life. The result is the Grammy-nominated True Love Cast Out All Evil, an explosion of raw, nihilistic, blues-tinged hymns and emotionally haunting songs. These tunes are his catharsis from insanity, and provide the listener with a resonating and unforgettable experience being inside a master's mind as he struggles to cast out his demons.

Best tracks: Goodbye Sweet Dreams, Forever, Think Of As One

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The Black Keys: Brothers

Loose, gritty blues rock is the best way to describe this collection. Full of souled-up, funked up riffs, the Black Keys create a musical universe of love gone too wrong, fragmented relationships, and party-vibe guitar head-banging. The tremulous falsettos are a new Keys twist, but they're not overdone, they're just right -- and Auerbach hits the notes well (he doesn't go too far) he pulls back just in time. This music is meant to be heard live, but until you can see them on stage, listen to this one on headphones, and soak in the rich, thick production's thudding drums and uber-heavy bass bottom -- your brain will vibrate all the way to ecstasy.

Best tracks: Everlasting Light, Next Girl, Tighten Up

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Jamey Johnson: The Guitar Song

When I "go country" I usually stick to the classics like Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, George Jones and sometimes a sampling of Tammy Wynette for the heart-ache of it all. Rarely, do I listen to what is categorized as "country" nowadays. Until now. Jamey Johnson is to me classic country. This album brings together all the lessons the masters preached about in one sprawling 25-song cycle of despair, outrage, and redemption. On the opening track, "Lonely At The Top", Johnson re-establishes what real country should sound like, and keeps that standard going throughout. This is not your daddy's Garth Brooks: Johnson channels the classic country gods, but adds his own dusty, gravelly voice to the mix. He takes us on a fleeting journey of outlaw-like takes, Townes Van Zandt-like trips through sadness and inspiration, and ultimately lifts us up from a hazy fog of loneliness and depression to show us what countrified soul really is. He single-handedly re-defined what "country" is in 2010.

Best tracks: Lonely At The Top, Playing The Part, For The Good Times

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Arcade Fire: The Suburbs

I usually conjure up adjectives like "murky" or "prog-like" when thinking about previous Arcade Fire albums. But for The Suburbs, the band has recorded an intimate, reverberating song-cycle, more reminiscent of concept-rock albums from the 70s. The opening track "The Suburbs" jumps out at you as if the band is in mid-conversation. The panoramic narrative created is loaded with catchy, jangly tunes powered by a rankled indignation -- are they judging or fantasizing? As in previous outings, the band has a glut of good ideas, but here they have finessed them into a cohesive, wry expression of sonic force. This is user-friendly Arcade Fire, ready for take-off.

Best tracks: The Suburbs, Modern Man

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Kanye West: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

Kanye's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is a musical renaissance -- this album demonstrates how an artist can mashup hip-hop, rock, and the blues to create an entirely new sound. This album is a brilliant, capricious effort that blends lyrical eloquence with an expansive array of rippingly vibrant beats, samples, grunts & groans, and eccentric harmonies. This, to me, is a cultural breakthrough, and represents an achievement at the level of Thriller, or even Sgt. Pepper. It now becomes the standard for all hip-hop, and even concept albums, to strive for going forward. Presented as a fearless indictment of the Obama age, West's ingenious graft of political protest and ruthless sexual prowess emanates from every corner of his hauntingly majestic, yet twisted fantasy. Kanye's lyrical vistas are expanded into gleaming pop songs with seemingly endless possibilities. He reveals all and nothing, spinning a tirelessly intense experience, while producing the finest work of his career, and the best record of this year, if not this decade.

Best tracks: Gorgeous, Power, Monster

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Robert Plant: Band of Joy

Robert Plant's solo renaissance started with 2007's Grammy-hogging Raising Sand duet with Alison Krauss. Even before that, he became more interesting as a solo artist with the Strange Sensation. Here, he rewinds back to his Led Zeppelin III days, and crafts a shimmering collage of covers, imprinting his own style on several lesser-known songs by an eclectic sampling of artists like Los Lobos, Richard Thompson, and Low. Before playing this, put on the aforementioned Led Zeppelin III. You'll instantly recognize the similarities in vocal style. Although his post-Zeppelin musical journey has had its ups and downs, with Band of Joy, he has finally carved a distinct identity as a performer in his own right. This may help to squash the ever-irritating calls for Zep reunions. Plant is now securely his own artist.

Best tracks: Angel Dance, You Can't Buy My Love, I'm Falling In Love Again

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Eminem: Recovery

In some ways, Eminem is a lot like Madonna... he reshapes the pop landscape, goes away for awhile, and returns with a deft re-invention of himself. Since his last album, Relapse, he has been to rehab and came out the other end a changed man. Here he's writing about redemption and finally uncovering his real self. This Marshall Mathers has carefully constructed a masterpiece of song-craft and assembled an all-star cast including Rhianna, Lil Wayne, Pink, and others to help him deliver it. One the year's best songs, "Love The Way You Lie" is a blistering documentary of insecurity, jealousy, and rage, delivered with an emotional force that can only come from a truth that's been lived. Marshall is hurting and baring his soul. Rihanna provides the counterpart harmony in a moving "part" that hits close to home. On "Not Afraid" Eminem takes us through a time-capsule of his experiences falling into the empty abyss of celebrity and excess, finally wrenching himself out of the morass, finding who he really is, and what now matters in his life (kids, sobriety). This could have easily devolved into a turgid tale of rock-star life -- the theme here is not unique -- however, Eminem is able to stand up and face his demons in the public eye while spinning an elegiac musical metamorphosis full of selfishness, recklessness, and ambition -- yet, leaves you rooting for him, and happy that he's come through his relapse and made it into the light... for now.

Best Tracks: Love The Way You Lie, Not Afraid, Won't Back Down

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Jackson Browne & David Lindley: Love Is Strange

This album is the third in an acoustic "series" Jackson has been releasing over the past few years, and was recorded live in Spain. On the previous two albums, Jackson stepped through an interesting array of deep cuts from his extensive catalog, as well as some familiar hits, providing an "intro" for each song with a short backstory. He continues that style here, but what sets this album apart is Jackson's collaboration with David Lindley. Lindley, a guitar master, has worked with Browne in the past, and has also worked with David Crosby, Warren Zevon and others. His contribution is what elevates this album to "Top 10" status. Combining Browne's vocals with Lindley's acoustic treatments, the back-catalog songs are transformed into "new" stories -- raw, stark statements on our human condition. The guitar work takes these songs and strips them to gut-wrenching tales of love gone bad, redemption sought, and forgiveness rarely found. Over the 17-song set, we are also treated to some of Lindley's solo work, including a masterful version of "Mercury Blues," a Jackson-produced track from 1981's El Rayo-X. One highlight is a "reunion" duet of "Stay," the track that ended Jackson's classic Running On Empty album, with Lindley hitting that ringing falsetto, this time a bit more seasoned, but still on the mark. If Jackson Browne continues his oeuvre "review" in this manner, we can only hope he brings Lindley along for the ride.

Best Tracks: I'm Alive, Mercury Blues, For Everyman

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Mavis Staples: You Are Not Alone

Mavis Staples, now on the other side of 70, has spent the last several years collaborating with a stellar array of friends and fans, including Curtis Mayfield, Bob Dylan, Prince, and most masterfully with Ry Cooder on 2007's We'll Never Turn Back. Staples' experience in the pre-Civil Rights South of the 60s (She spent a night in a West Memphis, Arkansas jail at the behest of a racist cop) has infused her art for over 40 years with a streak of protest and activism. That element of protest continues on this album, most notably with "You Are Not Alone," an invidious expression of hope mixed with a penultimate need to be understood and valued. It's as if Staples is channeling her personal journey from gospel great to soul legend and finally to an original American treasure. I can hear her asking me to just listen to her stories, and in them I'll find my own path to enlightenment. Wilco's Jeff Tweedy brings his production and writing talent to Mavis' shimmering, blues-infused voice, and together they craft a diversely brilliant set of secular and non-secular songs, threaded with beautiful and uplifting melodies.

Best tracks: You Are Not Alone, In Christ There Is No East Or West, We're Gonna Make It

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Buddy Guy: Living Proof

I made my "pilgrimage" to the rural south a few years back. I drove the route 66 down to Mississippi and Louisiana, and made it to Clarksdale, the Crossroads, where Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the devil. I also visited Memphis, Sun Studios, Stax Records, and saw Al Green preach in his church. It's one thing to "experience" the blues on a stereo at home, it's another to visit where the blues started, and where a lot of struggling musicians are still plucking away trying to make a living. To walk the dusty sidewalks where blues music is baked in is quite enlightening. To me the blues are timeless, embedded in the air, always around, never changing -- and here in the south, you can feel it all around you. I recently stumbled onto this Buddy Guy album, and after multiple listens, am still marveling at the scalding-hot guitar work, wailing vocals, and bitingly, bitterly honest lyrics. Buddy is reaching deep into his soul, and singing about his life, all 74 years of it. In this guitar playing you can hear why Clapton, Page, and Hendrix were inspired to play -- this is the work of a master, not at the end of life, but re-invigorated, recharged, and on fire -- playing brilliantly, and singing with the conviction of a man at his own Crossroads.

Best Tracks: 74 Years Young, Where The Blues Begins, Too Soon

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I remember the Sunday school bus rambling down our street stopping in front of all the houses, patiently waiting for kids on the block to pile in. Our mom always wanted us to go to Sunday school. Probably so she could have a few hours of kid-free peace. We used to go back and forth on wanting to go. If you sat through all the hellfire and brimstone there was a supremely large barrel of candy waiting at the end. The big-bellied Brother would smile and tell us we could scoop us much candy as our little hands could hold, and then he’d thank us for coming.

I didn’t always feel up to Sunday school, though. I would often squat below the window sill hiding from the driver... picturing him peering in through the curtains -- his eyes searching for those that needed God the most -- kids that came from families like mine. The bus would idle for a few minutes and then take off down the street, hunting for more kid prey -- I often wondered if the driver worked on commission (“bring us those young souls, Brother Bob -- we need a lot of em today”).

Since those days, I’ve always equated religion with candy. I haven’t been able to divorce the rush of throwing both my arms into that big barrel of sweets with minutes earlier being warned about the hot fires of hell waiting to burn me for all eternity if I didn’t repent and “do the right thing” -- whatever that right thing is. I didn’t care though -- I was ready to sell my soul for all that bounty.

All through my adolescence in the south, religion was there -- usually sidelined, barely mentioned, not playing a major role in my day-to-day. My mom wasn’t a holy roller type, although she often invited them in when they came knocking (and they did that quite a bit). The undercurrent of this bubbling religiosity kind of sums up a lot of the 70s for me -- the realization that the “free love” 60s was evaporating into recession, war, political corruption, and a rising tide of conservatism. What else was there but God?

Dylan released “Slow Train Coming” in August 1979. I was 14, and had moved away from religion's "sense of wonder". But this was a jolt. Dylan a born-again Christian? He’s Jewish! How could this be?

He recorded Slow Train Coming in 8 days. Along with Jesus, Dylan was admiring the players. He was in awe of Willie Nelson. He told producer Jerry Wexler, "I’ve done the 'word trip', now I want to do the 'music trip'". Wexler brought Dylan to Muscle Shoals and introduced him to Mark Knopfler. Dylan said, "Knopfler does me better than anyone." After hearing the STC songs, Wexler said, "looks like we have wall to wall Jesus here." Bob proselytized Wexler, asking him if he had gotten into the New Testament. Wexler replied, "Bob you’re talking to a 63 year old card-carrying Jewish atheist."

For me, STC is not really about Jesus -- it's about the raving, primal, elemental vocals -- they float eerily into my psyche and become a familiar, yet delirious sense of presence -- a booming reminder of that bus driver peering into the curtains -- peering into my soul. I can hide today, but I can’t hide forever.

In truth, the Christian albums are quintessential pop classics: Knopfler’s rich, nerve-wracked guitar playing is like a sunnier, distortion-free Jesus and Mary Chain, or like some early pre-fifties Chicago blues music. Dylan’s lyrics are at times erratic, vicious, laced with vehement proclamations. Obviously, he’s awakened, and uses the words as his instrument -- there’s guttural blasts of rage and love, and they collide with Knopfler's slavering runs -- they don’t really fit together at times. Dylan’s vocal bursts make him sound like a really “down” son-of-a-bitch on these discs. He’s got this “shine your light” thing going on, really strong. Should make Van be almost ashamed for even trying to "do" religion.

Slow Train Coming, Saved, and Shot of Love: I hear so much and so little here. Infidels too -- it’s really his “fourth” Christian album. He channels Sha-Na-Na, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Astral Weeks, and even Eno. Ringing out the 70’s, these albums are a precursor to the coming conservative revolution. Dylan, not Reagan, set the stage for the right’s rising.

I often complained to my mom about going to Sunday school. I mean, other than the candy, it made me feel real little. I never got the right vibe. She didn’t care -- she just wanted a 4-hour babysitter. And she’s the one that told me I couldn’t buy the Sex Pistols record. I had to get Saturday Night Fever instead. Dylan brought me full-circle with this perfect blast of heathen-hunting music, though. What else could he really do, BUT find Jesus? The Ramones and the Sex Pistols had made him irrelevant. The Ramones were quintessentially American -- taking Dylan’s place, if you will. The difference between Slow Train Coming and the Ramones debut is only three years -- but that gap made Dylan the stranger, the unwanted. I mean STC ended the decade of KISS and Alice Cooper.

I bet Dylan would like these four albums to be in his time capsule. Of all Dylan albums, they capture who he really is and is not -- but more than that, they capture the essence of America at that crossroads in musical time: the rise of punk, the end of anything the 60s really stood for, and the emergence of Reagan. God, the 80s sucked. It’s like Dylan knew the suckiness was coming. He unloaded all this moral blathering, while painfully exposing us for who we really are. Look at us now. These albums are still a part those of us not willing to let go of the feeling that we can live without war -- peace and harmony will reign. Listen to all 8 sides in order. If you get to side 8 without thinking there is a better way -- then you don't "get it" -- maybe go back to those Alice Cooper records.