Provided my memory is still relatively intact 50 years from now, I imagine that when I look back at a lifetime’s worth of music consumption 2009 will best be characterized as The Year My Tastes Finally Narrowed. Up until now – for the past 20 years, actually – I’ve strived, often with some difficulty, to listen to the widest possible variety of music I could expose my ears to. (A glace at this site’s archives confirms this.) Few genres or styles were off-limits and my tastes were generally dictated by commonplace variables: mood, weather, time of day or year. I used to get a kick out of creating cryptically thematic playlists that incorporated songs from Cocteau Twins to Caetano Veloso, Satyricon to Sadat X, with Andrew Hill in the middle there somewhere.

It’s probably a good thing that I officially eased Floodwatchmusic into a state of semi-retirement a year ago, because I could have never predicted that my personal life in 2009 would be as wild as it turned out to be. When the year began I was slogging through 15-hour workdays to make ends meet. Over the course of the next twelve months I became a father, sold my house, quit my job, and packed and moved my family 800 miles away from New England, which had been my home for the past eight years. Sadly, the little corner of the Internet known as floodwatchmusic.com didn’t stand a chance at getting any attention from its curator. Yet even if I had been contributing here, its doubtful I would have been able to come up with anything possessing a modicum of depth or substance. I hardly listened to any new jazz, contented with my usual explorations of late-60s Blue Notes, the bottomless discography of Sun Ra, and the occasional Concord or Impulse! reissue. After years of desperation, I finally gave up on resuscitating the corpse of contemporary hip hop and concluded with a sad sobriety that it’s just not my thing anymore. “Indie” rock? Please. The endless range of sub-genres falling under the “electronic” banner? Yawn. Old soul and funk records provided a welcome solace every once in a while this past summer, but I hardly ventured outside of my familiar standards.

Metal was and currently remains really the only thing that excites me anymore. I spent week after week of 2009 delving into and rediscovering “classic” catalogs that I had up until then only skimmed the surface of: Morbid Angel, Pestilence, Atheist. I anticipated release dates, scoured for online interviews, transcribed songs, talked shop and/or shit on message boards, and curled up in bed with the latest issues of Decibel. I’m still not sure what prompted this sea change in my tastes – I’d always expected them to soften with age or (especially) fatherhood – but one can’t account for even their own, I suppose. And truth be told, I’m satisfied with where I’ve landed, despite my wife’s eye-rolling chagrin at times.

While it was a better year for metal than recent years past, 20 top picks seemed like too many; conversely, ten would have been unfulfilling. So here are my top 15, with a .zip file of all the audio tracks at the bottom.

15. Skeletonwitch
Breathing the Fire
Prosthetic 2009

Third time’s the charm, as they say. I’d been waiting for Skeletonwitch to fulfill the potential displayed on previous full-lengths At One with the Shadows (2004) and Beyond the Permafrost (2007), and Breathing the Fire (2009) finally lives up to its undeniably badass cover art, which has become a well-established tradition by this stage. I feel compelled to note that I’m not a subscriber to the popular NWOTHM movement (of which Skeletonwitch have unwittingly become the poster children for), generally content to revisit a classic like, say, Dark Angel’s Darkness Descends (1986) whenever I get the occasional fix, but when taken for what it is – incredibly tasty ear candy, as far as I’m concerned – Breathing the Fire serves its purpose admirably. Jack Endino’s (remember him?) production is a refreshing change of pace from the overcompressed sterility of most metal releases these days: dry but not trebly and emphasizing clarity over volume. It remains to been seen whether or not this record will have any longevity to it – Permafrost had a pretty short shelf life for me – but for now I’m enjoying the hell out of it.

“The Despoiler of Human Life” – Skeletonwitch 2:24 (Breathing the Fire, Prosthetic 2009)

14. Ulcerate
Everything Is Fire
Willowtip 2009

What a dismissive snot I was when I first heard Everything Is Fire (2009). There I was listening intently, stroking my chin in between sips of chamomile tea, and all I could respond with was a faux-authoritative “Sorry gents, but I believe a little band called Gorguts already beat you at this game over a decade ago. Ever heard of them?” Something kept calling me back to Ulcerate’s brand of hyperkinetic chaos-in-motion, however, and a dozen listens later I was chastising my kneejerk indifference to this marvelous record. I’m sure someone’s already penned some absurd descriptor like “thinking man’s metal” for the jagged monuments of dissonance here, but Everything Is Fire impedes sound, cognitive thinking and instead leaves the average listener in a dumbfounded state of shock, wondering how such music could be capable of inflicting actual bodily harm. Why do I pretend that I don’t fawn over shit like this?

“Withered and Obsolete” – Ulcerate 6:11 (Everything Is Fire, Prosthetic 2009)

13. Saros
Acrid Plains
Profound Lore 2009

I love it when debuts sound so effortlessly accomplished that they feel like swan songs. San Francisco quartet Saros’ Acrid Plains (2009) is one of those records, which was introduced to me by an enthusiastic Cosmo over at Invisible Oranges. Led by guitarist and vocalist Leila Abdul-Rauf, Saros play a kind of progressive death with subtle black and thrash metal flavors, eschewing flash and fire for mood and structure (much like fellow Bay Area outfit Ludicra). Which isn’t to say that they’re not technically accomplished: the songwriting clearly reflects Abdul-Rauf’s formal training in composition, the leads (shared with guitarist Ben Aguilar) are strong and brimming with confidence, and drummer Blood Eagle contributes a tastefully restrained performance. I’d prefer the production to have a little more bite to it, but that’s a minor quibble and a forgotten one when traversing the breadth of epics like “The Sky Will End Soon” and “Coriolis.” Highlight: the chilling acoustic chamber piece “As The Tyrant Falls Ill (Reprise)” was a complete curveball and sold me on Acrid Plains instantly.

“Devouring Conscience” – Saros 5:30 (Acrid Plains, Profound Lore 2009)

12. Napalm Death
Time Waits for No Slave
Century Media 2009

The Napalm Death institution has been in a sort of stylistic holding pattern since 2000’s career-resuscitating Enemy of the Music Business, and Time Waits for No Slave (2009) is hardly an about-face at this juncture. But I suppose if you’re going to stagnate, this is the way to do it: running through cycles of vicious hardcore riffs at a seething, unrelenting intensity with nary a moment of relief in sight. Sure, it can be a bit much by track twelve or so, but how many other musicians in their forties are putting out records like this? (As an aside, it is absolutely criminal that Danny Herrera isn’t widely recognized as one of the premier metal drummers of the past quarter-century.) Don’t forget to breathe between tracks.

“Work to Rule” – Napalm Death 3:17 (Time Waits for No Slave, Century Media 2009)

11. Gorgoroth
Quantos Possunt ad Satanitatem Trahunt
Regain 2009

What a surprise this one was. I’ve never been a fan of Gorgoroth’s, chiefly due to their cheap notoriety and (now ex-vocalist/buffoon) Gaahl’s ass-clownery, to say nothing of an endless string of mediocre releases that barely cracked the half-hour mark each. But with vocalist Pest back into the fold and Infernus regaining his stunning compositional gifts, Quantos Possunt (2009) was hard to overlook. To these ears the guitar work is immediately reminiscent of prime-era Dissection, so I was sold on this one almost instantly. Well, that and the fact that there’s no longer a member of the band credited as “King ov Hell.”  Honestly, Quantos was completely unexpected and probably 2009’s biggest eye-opener for me.

“New Breed” – Gorgoroth 5:29 (Quantos Possunt ad Satanitatem Trahunt, Regain 2009)

10. Behemoth
Evangelion
Nuclear Blast 2009

The appeal of Evangelion (2009), like most of Behemoth’s post-millennial output, firmly adheres to one of the time-honored George Costanza principles: “I like things I don’t have to think too much about.” It’s catchy as hell, bursting with thunderous stop-start riffing, passages of hyper-tremelo’ed madness, shout-along choruses, and machine-gun blastbeats. It’s flawlessly executed – Inferno’s drumming remains impossible to fathom – and could only be a product of today’s high-tech digital recording environment. It attacks relentlessly and from every angle with a beefy, keep-the-levels-in-the-red mixing job from the legendary Colin Richardson. In short, it’s the epitome of metal excess, and most elitists will rightfully snub their collective noses at it. Meanwhile, I’ll be utilizing Evangelion to carelessly push the limits of any nearby speakers, all the while making a face akin to catching a whiff of moldy cheese and nodding my head senselessly.

“Transmigrating Beyond Realms ov Amenti” – Behemoth 3:28 (Evangelion, Nuclear Blast 2009)

9. Tribulation
The Horror
Pulverised 2009

“Derivative,” “unoriginal,” “formulaic garbage,” blah, blah, blah. I heard the criticisms and I still couldn’t be bothered. While Sweden’s Tribulation admittedly gets zero points for originality, I can’t deny the tingling sensation that inches its way down my spine once The Horror (2009) throttles into full gear. I probably had more fun listening to this half-hour melodeath shitstorm than any other record this past year. Feast on its delights: meaty riffs that tear flesh from bone, masturbatory solos that incorporate everything from 32nd notes to two-finger tapping, blasphemous lyrics of the utmost filth, and cavernous drums that sounded like they were recorded during the Wolverine Blues (1993) sessions, each cymbal choke knocking the wind out of you. Is it too early to demand an immediate follow-up from these guys?

“Beyond the Horror” – Tribulation 3:53 (Tribulation, Pulverised 2009)

8. Suffocation
Blood Oath
Nuclear Blast 2009

My ticket may read Suffocation: Blood Oath (2009), but it might as well be a front row seat to The Terrance Hobbs Show, as far as I’m concerned. Nothing against longtime vocalist Frank Mullen or the airtight rhythm section of Mike Smith (drums) and Derek Boyer (bass), but for my money Suffocation has always been about Hobbs and whoever happens to be playing guitar with him – Guy Marchais, in this case (original guitarist Doug Cerrito held it down for Suffo v1.0 in the ‘90s). Seriously, just listen to these guitars. Violently sparring with each other in dexterous discordance one second, scraping the intestines of hell with riffs of dripping sludge the next. I actually have a piece of scrap paper around here somewhere with scrawls like “#7, 0:47” and “#5, 3:16” that a passing eye might mistake for random Bible passages, but are actually “riff reminders” for this record. Blood Oath includes yet another re-recorded cut from Breeding the Spawn (1993) (“Marital Decimation”), presumably not for a lack of ideas but to show the linearity in a career that’s nearing two decades now. Not to be the incessant compared-to-past-work guy, but this is the group’s finest moment since Pierced from Within (1995) – and if that album stomped your ass to a pulp years ago like it did mine, you’ll find plenty to like here.

“Images of Purgatory” – Suffocation 3:28 (Blood Oath, Nuclear Blast 2009)

7. Cobalt
Gin
Profound Lore 2009

No other metal label is experiencing such a winning streak at the moment like Canada’s Profound Lore. In fact, I was slightly nervous that this year’s best-of would read like little more than a label roll-call: Krallice, Hammers of Misfortune, Portal, the aforementioned Saros, YOB, and Nadja, among others. Their shining star at the moment, however, is Colorado duo Cobalt, who are already topping year-end lists with Gin (2009), one of the more bizarre offerings the metalsphere has seen in quite a while. Billed as “war metal” and sporting a sepia-toned Ernest Hemingway on its cover (to whom the record is dedicated), Gin is extreme metal at is most violent, malicious, and sexually perverse. As the story goes, multi-instrumentalist Erik Wunder wrote, arranged, and recorded Gin while vocalist Phil McSorley was completing tours as an Army sergeant in Korea and Iraq, recording his contributions during his brief stints on leave. Miraculously, there is no trace of the tired and hopelessly-clichéd black metal bedroom auteur here, but instead a fully-formed, ravenous beast of a record that demands multiple listens for any hope of penetrating its thick skin. An appearance by Jarboe halfway through “Pregnant Insect” is fitting for the proceedings, moaning a reprise of “Mother/Father” from Swans’ The Great Annihilator (1995) – a clear influence on Cobalt’s direction, along with the odd-signatured tribal rhythms of Tool and the moody dirges of Neurosis. Gin’s opacity is almost too much to digest in one sitting, but then again, comfort is far from its intent. There were better records this year, sure, but none of them left me as uneasy as this one.

“Dry Body” – Cobalt 8:58 (Gin, Profound Lore 2009)

6. Nile
Those Whom the Gods Detest
Nuclear Blast 2009

And to think that I’d all but given up on Nile after the disappointing (and sadly, liner note-free) Ithyphallic (2007). But I picked up Those Whom the Gods Detest (2009) at Earshot Records in Greenville, SC one day this past fall for three reasons: 1) I saw a poster for an upcoming in-store autograph appearance, which reminded me of the new release, 2) I’d read online somewhere that it was a fine “return to form,” and 3) the disc was on sale and nothing else was piquing my interest. It wasn’t until track five, the immense “4th Arra of Dagon,” which mops the fucking floor with any sludge/doom band in recent memory, that I realized the stars had finally aligned and I was in the presence of greatness. Hell, at the risk of blasphemy I’m willing to call it Nile’s finest outing to date, surpassing their near-perfect masterwork Annihilation of the Wicked (2005) because the production is infinitely better, the riffs and songwriting never falter, and drummer George Kollias is now a monstrous force to be reckoned with (the album’s opening blast beat is a reputed 280 beats per minute). “Novelty act,” my ass.

“4th Arra of Dagon” – Nile 8:40 (Those Whom the Gods Detest, Nuclear Blast 2009)

5. Drudkh
Microcosmos
Season of Mist 2009

Seven full-lengths into their calling and Drudkh’s allure remains as beautiful and mysterious as always.  (There’s still no official website for the band, they refuse to publish their lyrics [taken from the works of various Ukrainian poets] or give interviews, and most of their discography is near-impossible to acquire affordably.) The bulk of Microcosmos (2009) is comprised of four ten-minute monoliths and should hardly be a surprise to any longtime follower of the band, which in turn means that it will likely bore the hell out of unsuspecting newcomers, who will either recoil at its warm intimacy or stand bewildered at its vast expanses. It’s difficult to pinpoint what draws me to Drudkh’s class of pagan black metal: it could be the endlessly swirling textures, the unexpected major keys, its unassuming candor, the transcendent repetition, or perhaps a combination of any of the above. Maybe it’s the fact that Drudkh seem to be completely unaware of the present; Microcosmos sounds like it could have been performed and recorded at any point in the last twenty years. Call them timeless, peerless, or simply clueless. Personally, I found few things more satisfying this past autumn than waiting for a late afternoon with overcast skies, grabbing my headphones, and losing myself in this album.

“Ars Poetica” – Drudkh 9:48 (Microcosmos, Season of Mist 2009)

4. Immortal
All Shall Fall
Nuclear Blast 2009

In theory, all should have fell in the Immortal camp. I thought 2002’s Sons of Northern Darkness was a fitting conclusion to Immortal’s legacy, so when rumors began circulating last year about another entry in their catalogue, I shook my head in dismay (I found Between Two Worlds [2006], Abbath’s side project under the moniker I, to be a mild disappointment). Yet once the massive guitars on All Shall Fall’s (2009) opening salvo roared from my speakers all doubts were instantly quelled, and by the 2:50 mark I was giggling out loud in ecstasy. “Arctic Swarm”? “The Rise of Darkness”? The expectations haven’t changed and neither has the artillery: layers of flesh-searing guitars which slash and burn across the frozen tundra, exhilarating drum work from Horgh so precise you could set your watch to it, and Abbath’s usual croaks about Blashyrkh, Nordic battles, and the like. All hail. Nonbelievers can show themselves the way out to the gallows.

“All Shall Fall” – Immortal 5:58 (All Shall Fall, Nuclear Blast 2009)

3. Converge
Axe to Fall
Epitaph 2009

When was the last time the opening track – hell, the entire first half of a record – was this flat-out astonishing? “Dark Horse” is about as perfect as three minutes have ever been able to encompass, and the rest of Axe to Fall (2009) ain’t half-bad either, trust me. It wasn’t until sometime around “Wishing Well” that I was able to regain the power of speech upon first hearing this record, shocked into silence by Converge’s dizzying intensity – specifically, Ben Koller’s drumming, which could trigger natural disasters on a national scale if utilized properly. I was initially put off by the guest list and the much-publicized “collaborative” nature of the album, but the appearances (by members of Cave In, Genghis Tron, Steve von Till from Neurosis, et al) are skillfully incorporated into the songwriting without sacrificing the flow of the album (and are mostly saved for the end). And granted, I’ll hardly be the first in line to support those two experimental closing tracks, which effectively grind the machine to an abrupt and somewhat unwelcome halt, but I’ll readily give the band credit for trying something different – and the first 11 tracks are so mind blowing that I’ve more or less been numbed into ecstasy by that point anyway. Despite an overwhelming tidal wave of hype, Axe to Fall didn’t disappoint in the slightest.

“Dark Horse” – Converge 2:55 (Axe to Fall, Epitaph 2009)

2. The Chasm
Farseeing the Paranormal Abysm
Lux Inframundis 2009

Is there a contemporary metal outfit more underrated than The Chasm? These Chicagoans-by-way-of-Mexico have been gathering quite the cult following since their inception over fifteen years ago, and for good reason: they’re jaw-droppingly phenomenal. Since the turn of the decade the trio’s thrash/death hybrid has gradually been integrated into labyrinthine song structures with prog tendencies that nearly reach levels of absurdity in their scope and complexity; hell, over half of the cuts on Farseeing the Paranormal Abysm (2009) are instrumental. Recorded with a loose, raw ferocity that eschews today’s rampant and near-ubiquitous Pro-Tools precision for actual human feeling, this is metal of the highest caliber, at its purest, most distilled essence: no soaring clean vocals, fluffy keyboards, or bullshit slam breakdowns mid-song.  Countless listens later and I can still disappear inside this record.  Find a fault with it, I dare you.  (Well, other than the fact that it’s currently out of print, with no known repressing date; check the band’s site for updates.)

“Entering a Superior Dimension” – The Chasm 8:25 (Farseeing the Paranormal Abysm, Lux Inframundis 2009)

1. Blut aus Nord
Memoria Vetusta II: Dialogue with the Stars
Candlelight 2009

I’ve been sitting here in front of my keyboard for twenty minutes now trying to find a way to even begin describing this record. “Masterpiece” almost sounds laughable, a joyless understatement. When recommending it to a friend this past spring I told him Memoria Vetusta II (2009) was “like watching the end of the world explode into violent bursts of kaleidoscopic color instead of fire and rock,” which is evidently still the best quotable I can come up with; further attempts tend to involve more trite apocalyptic references, lame supernatural allusions, cosmic phenomena and other arcane shit that sounds impressive but I ultimately have little or no knowledge of. So here are the basics, for those who need them. Blut aus Nord are, loosely put, a reclusive French black metal band. In their fifteen-year existence they’ve released half a dozen full-lengths that, up until now, have grown progressively weirder and more avant-garde; many listeners have deemed past albums such as The Work Which Transforms God (2003) and especially MoRT (2006) as “industrial noise” and more or less unlistenable. Back in 1996 the band released Memoria Vetusta I – Fathers of the Icy Age, a much tamer beast in comparison and which has become a kind of sleeper black metal classic. Dialogue with the Stars is that record’s intended successor, and after a decade of highly-dissonant, free-form chaos that pushed boundaries and conventions alike, no one knew what to expect prior to its release this past February.

Memoria Vetusta II cycles through nine tracks in little under an hour. There are no live drums, only a programmed machine, and there is no way around it. The vocals are unintelligible. There is no lyric sheet. Half of the tracks push the ten-minute mark. Passages of head-spinning dissonance collide with soaring melodic leads, clusters of harmonic tension suddenly release into expansive diatonic vistas. Sephardic and Eastern-European folk scales are incorporated into thick atmospheric textures where notes and rhythms blend into a tapestry of sound so rich you could almost run your fingertips through it. Musically, the whole thing is fucking breathtaking. As far as black metal goes it has no peers – perhaps Emperor’s Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk (1997) could be argued as similar company, though its aggression sounds terrestrial and brutish when viewed alongside Memoria Vetusta II’s graceful and elegiac majesty.

This is the best music I’ve heard in years – superseding anything on any year-end list you’ll find on this site – and it couldn’t have made its appearance at a more fitting time in my personal life. It’s also clearly not for everyone, but I’m the last person you’ll find adopting a stance of self-righteous condescension, claiming that Memoria Vetusta II possesses that fleeting, indefinable quality that some will “get” while others, well, I’ll generously reserve some pity for. I listened to this album and little else religiously for nearly four months straight and I’m no closer to “getting” it than when I first heard it, though if pressed I could provide my own rambling, scatterbrained theories derived from the various time-signature patterns, modes, scales, and even the Vedic undertones in the song titles.  In the end it boils down to raw emotion, and I confess, somewhat sheepishly and well aware of the risk of absurdity, that I’ve actually wept while listening to Memoria Vetusta II on more than one occasion. That an album classified under the umbrella of “avant-garde black metal” could bring me to tears is either an undeniable testament to its awesome power or a telltale indication of an unstable and deteriorating emotional state.  I’m hoping it’s the former.

“The Formless Sphere (Beyond the Reason)” – Blut aus Nord 9:28 (Memoria Vetusta II: Dialogue with the Stars, Candlelight 2009)

Download all:

Floodwatchmusic.com Best of 2009 97:46 (.zip – 79.65 MB at 128 kbps)

Let’s get this out of the way, shall we?

20. Elzhi
The Preface
Fatbeats 2008

The Preface (2008) is a Detroit dream-team pairing unlike anything in recent memory.  Elzhi currently holds my vote as the finest traditional lyricist working today, and Black Milk’s chunky, crackling beats – which never made much of an impression on me until now, I confess – couldn’t be a more perfect foil.  “Motown 25” (with a scene-stealing appearance from Royce da 5’9”) is worth the price of admission alone, but the deeper cuts here, like “Talking in My Sleep” and “What I Write,” don’t disappoint in the least, and one could spend a lifetime deconstructing Elzhi’s cryptic, seemingly infinite rhyme patterns.  Even in a year that wasn’t as miserable for hip hop as 2008 was, The Preface would still deserve a place on the highlight reel.

“Talking in My Sleep” – Elzhi 4:22 (The Preface, Fatbeats 2008)

19. American Music Club
The Golden Age
Merge 2008

Hard to believe, but American Music Club formed a quarter of a century ago.  That doesn’t necessarily mean that they’ve been in full operation for that long; there’s a good decade of inactivity in their trajectory, of course.  Still, with an endurance as weathered as theirs, I probably shouldn’t find it surprising that the band continues to release quality records like The Golden Age (2008), but I can’t help it.  Maybe one of these days Mark Eitzel’s songwriting and Vudi’s breathtaking guitar work will no longer mesmerize me, but it hasn’t happened yet.

“The Stars” – American Music Club 5:17 (The Golden Age, Merge 2008)

18. Meshuggah
Obzen
Nuclear Blast 2008

Until this year’s Obzen (2008), Sweden’s Meshuggah were about as appealing to me as your average advanced calculus problem; there was always a mechanical frigidity to their music that I found incredibly off-putting, impressive though the execution was.  That changed immediately when I heard “Bleed,” Obzen’s sole single that’s fueled by a shocking display of double-kick dexterity that is almost unfathomable to my ears.  Seriously, I must have listened to this track dozens of times over and over again, hoping for some kind of insight into cracking the enigmatic kick-drum code, but after every marathon session there were always a few pieces of the puzzle missing.  I finally threw in the towel after watching a few YouTube vids of overweight, acne-scarred teenagers executing the pattern on their drum kits with utmost precision while folding laundry.  Eventually I got around to digesting and enjoying the rest of the record, but damn you, “Bleed,” for your constant source of vexation all those months.

“Bleed” – Meshuggah 7:22 (Obzen, Nuclear Blast 2008)

17. DJ /rupture
Uproot
Agriculture 2008

About twenty minutes or so into my first listen of Uproot (2008), I had to forcefully, and with some degree of difficulty, shut my brain off.  My mind was flipping over the technicalities: the pacing, the blending, the subtle fluctuations in mood.  I resisted the urge to compare Uproot to DJ /rupture’s triple-turntable juggernaut Minesweeper Suite (2002), a record that literally destroyed both back speakers of my old Toyota Corolla.  I seethed with envy at his impeccable taste for a music that I knew so little about.  The first half of Uproot had me nodding my head hypnotically and submissively, but the second half borders on transcendence.

“Homeboys feat. Max Normal: Maga Bo” – DJ /rupture 3:47 (Uproot, Agriculture 2008)

16. Mike Reed’s Loose Assembly
The Speed of Change
482 Music 2008

Drummer Mike Reed released The Speed of Change (2008) and the appropriately-titled Proliferation (2008) this past summer to much fanfare by yours truly; I had a fair amount of difficulty in deciding which one was a more fitting contender for this list.  The former ultimately won out, Reed’s second album in as many years with his Loose Assembly quintet, which includes Greg Ward on various reeds, bassist Josh Abrams, Tomeka Reid on cello, and vibraphonist Jason Adazsiewicz, supplemented by vocalist and flutist Nicole Mitchell on two numbers.  Reed leads the group through a set of collective compositions that range from meditative tone poems to sinuous post-bop, even ripping through a cover of Max Roach’s “Garvey’s Ghost” for shits.  A record whose vibrant instrumental colors and telekinetic group interaction ensure that its rewards are bountiful.

“Soul Stirrer” – Mike Reed’s Loose Assembly 6:40 (The Speed of Change, 482 Music 2008)

15. Lambchop
OH (Ohio)
Merge 2008

In which Kurt Wagner’s aching croak and plaintive strums of acoustic guitar numb me to sleep in the comfort of my back porch, the air traced with the sweet fragrance of pine, my hat sunken over my brow as my legs mechanically provide the gentle propulsive motion of my rocking chair.  Slumbering bliss never arrived easier than on Lambchop’s OH (Ohio) (2008).

“Sharing a Gibson with Martin Luther King Jr.” – Lambchop 4:35 (OH (Ohio), Merge 2008)

14. Daylight Dies
Lost to the Living
Candlelight 2008

Initially, I thought Lost to the Living (2008) wouldn’t stand a chance with me.  Daylight Dies’ watered-down Opeth/Katatonia formula lacked the massive riffs, lighting-fast changes, and crushing intensity that I wanted to hear from the band.  And their “doom and gloom” was from North Carolina, a climate of sunshine and humidity where I used to spend my summer vacations as a kid.  So why did I found myself hoping for overcast, rain-soaked days this past November so I could listen to Lost to the Living in all its melancholy glory?  Immaculately recorded – there is an inherent poeticism in the way the glistening acoustic guitars kiss those deafening drums – and with an atmosphere that’s almost unbearably heartbreaking, Lost to the Living is the saddest, most gorgeous record I had the pleasure of hearing all year.

“Cathedral” – Daylight Dies 7:15 (Lost to the Living, Candlelight 2008)

13. The Sea and Cake
Car Alarm
Thrill Jockey 2008

It’s difficult to not view Car Alarm (2008) as a sort of “sister” album to 2007’s Everybody; for the past decade Chicago’s The Sea and Cake had settled into a release schedule of one album every three or four years, but I’ll be the last one complaining from any appearance of new material by the band.  Car Alarm adheres to the same sonic aesthetic as its predecessor, emphasizing more of the group interplay and natural dynamics that the band was founded on.  The resulting twelve selections are as effortless as always, relaxed and carefree and as a warm Sunday afternoon in late spring.

“A Fuller Moon” – The Sea and Cake 4:11 (Car Alarm, Thrill Jockey 2008)

12. Beneath the Massacre
Dystopia
Prosthetic 2008

Another year, another release from those batshit-crazy Canadians Beneath the Massacre that melts my face off.  I’ve become fully conditioned to the routine by now: Vocalist Elliot Desgagnés roaring with the subtlety of a blast furnace.  Guitarist Chris Bradley and bassist Dennis Bradley tapping and drilling their strings like they’re boring into the center of the earth.  And it’s yet to be confirmed whether or not Justin Rousselle is some kind of tempo-programmable cyborg.  All the while I shriek like an excited schoolgirl at the mere thought of Dystopia’s (2008) hyper-technical death madness.  (Don’t be dissuaded by the Intro-to-Photoshopped-Metal-Covers artwork.)

“Bitter” – Beneath the Massacre 3:38 (Dystopia, Prosthetic 2008)

11. The P Brothers
The Gas
Heavy Bronx 2008

Nottingham’s The P Brothers (Paul C and DJ Ivory) are clearly out for my heart.  In an age when the “producer’s album” is synonymous with an overstuffed 78-minute disc chock full of throwaway sixteens from hundreds of rappers, the “gas” in The Gas (2008) is surely referring to fresh air.  Their concept is so simple: construct minimalist, gutter-scraping bangers and commission a handful of New York-area rappers – in this case mostly Boss Money, Milano, and Roc Marciano – to wreck shop overtop of them.  That’s it – no corny R&B hooks, no aimless skits, no lifeless keyboard bullshit for the clubs, no endless litanies of shout-outs from the hosts.  Does an album like this need to be such a rarity these days?  If anything, The Gas has me aching for a full-length in ‘09 from Roc Marcy, who absolutely murders the two cuts he appears on here.

“New Religion” – The P Brothers feat. Boss Money 3:03 (The Gas, Heavy Bronx 2008)

10. Marco Benevento
Invisible Baby
Hyena 2008

To simply label Brooklyn’s Marco Benevento as a “pianist” is a bit reductive; his arsenal includes organs, effects boxes, samplers, circuit-bent second-hand Casios, and even a Speak & Spell.  Invisible Baby (2008) finds him indulging in his toys with the same level of jubilance as a kid on Christmas morning, and would appear to reek of arrant self-indulgence were the material not so whimsical and fun: “If You Keep on Asking Me” is a drunken stagger home at three in the morning, “Ruby” is an elegant slice of cocktail jazz, “Atari” sounds exactly like its title, and “Record Book” morphs from a lullaby in 5/8 into a somber, reflective hymnal.  Invisible Baby is a tease at only eight tracks in 40 minutes, but the disc’s brevity only increases its replay value.

“Atari” – Marco Benevento 4:12 (Invisible Baby, Hyena 2008)

9. Stereolab
Chemical Chords
4AD 2008

Here’s the thing: there are artists that I’ve intentionally avoided covering here since this site’s inception, not because of a particular distaste or aversion toward their music, but because my loyalty and devotion is so deep-seated that I could never write about them without sickening myself and the reader with endless strings of fluffy adjectives and long-winded praises.  So after two and a half years, I’ll come clean and confess that if I had to choose an all-time favorite band or artist over the years, it would be Stereolab by a long shot.  Chemical Chords (2008) isn’t a groundbreaking release from the groop, and I won’t claim it to be their finest hour.  One could even argue its relevance in the landscape of today’s contemporary pop music.  I don’t care.  It’s Stereolab, and as my shrine of every last limited-edition 7”, Japanese import CD, and colored vinyl release issued by the band will attest, I’ll devour it with delight, just as I’ve always done with their music some fifteen years now.

“The Ecstatic Static” – Stereolab 4:44 (Chemical Chords, 4AD 2008)

8. Erykah Badu
New Amerykah, Pt. 1: 4th World War
Motown 2008

If you had told me in the neo-Soul hangover of 2001 that an Erykah Badu record would be one of my year-end favorites of ’08, I would have split several ribs from the outburst of my own violently contorted laughter.  I had bit of a crisis of conscience coming to terms with New Amerykah (2008) upon its release this past February, but couldn’t deny that long after “The Cell,” “Me,” and “Twinkle” had stopped playing, I was still nodding my head.

“The Cell” – Erykah Badu 4:21 (New Amerykah, Pt. 1: 4th World War, Motown 2008)

7. Averse Sefira
Advent Parallax
Candlelight 2008

The only thing I knew about Averse Sefira before hearing the punishing Advent Parallax (2008) was that they were a no-bullshit black metal band from Texas, of all places.  It probably took about two dozen listens to this record before I could begin wrapping my brain around it.  Or, more specifically, Sanguine Mapsama’s ripping guitar work, which seems to follow an unearthly logic completely alien to Western music systems.  I was riddled with questions: where are the requisite symphonic interludes and beds of keyboards?  What in holy hell are these lyrics about?  Why do I get the impression that, ahem, The Carcass (not sure what his mother calls him) could lease out his drumming to industrial demolition crews?  Advent Parallax is an uncompromisingly raw, mysterious, and utterly terrifying release that will likely continue to simultaneously puzzle and haunt me for years.

“Descension” – Averse Sefira 7:06 (Advent Parallax, Candlelight 2008)

6. Binario
Binario
Far Out 2008

I’ve been listening to Binario (2008) nearly every day since it arrived in my mailbox over two months ago.  This level of repeat-play value happens to me about once or twice a year, sometimes less, which is about as strong a testament to this record’s longevity as I can express.  I often romanticize how much fun it must be to perform as a card-carrying member of Binario: playing at sunset on an open outdoor stage overlooking Ipanema Beach, switching instruments with every song, making revelers dance to the sounds of distorted Casios and 7/8 time signatures.  A shame that Binario has yet to be released domestically in the States, but it’s also one of those rare cases when the import price is entirely justified.

“Ibirapuera” – Binario 2:53 (Binario, Far Out 2008)

5. Intronaut
Prehistoricisms
Century Media 2008

I suspected that Intronaut had a great album or two in them after the potential displayed on Void (2006), but never would I have imagined a blossoming as full and rewarding as Prehistoricisms (2008).  I’m such a sucker for this kind of technical prog-metal, and in this case it’s even layered with fusion and world-music overtones – nerd-alert bonus!  Prehistoricisms is overflowing with harmonic sophistication, breathtaking dual-guitar lines, avant-garde experimentation, sludge-metal riffing, and Joe Lester’s five-string fretless bass, which turns me into a puddle of swooning adoration.  This one was completely unexpected, and I’m still discovering little gems of ingenuity buried within its 53-minute running time.  I’m already eagerly anticipating Intronaut’s next move.

“Australopithecus” – Intronaut 4:32 (Prehistoricisms, Century Media 2008)

4. Q-Tip
The Renaissance
Universal Motown 2008

They slither and weave around each hit and syncopated accent, at times hushing to silence to give the other instruments room to breathe, then nurturing the music back to life with a jolt of low-end electricity.  Their latency that follows the pulse occupies an existence in just the right sweet spot, never rushing or stuttering in front of the beat but never falling too far behind and dragging the tempo. Their silences and the timing in which they’re placed say far more than their utterances.  They are animated and flavorful, emphasizing not just the roots, but the choicest notes and textures of each passing chord.  And these are just the basslines on The Renaissance (2008).  Well played, Tip.

“Move” – Q-Tip 5:49 (The Renaissance, Universal Motown 2008)

3. Portishead
Third
Mercury 2008

The epidemic hype around the release of Portishead’s long-awaited Third (2008) almost ensured disappointment, but it never happened, at least not to these ears.  My first impression of the record was one of sheer awe – mostly at how much of an audiophile’s wet dream it was, but also at the number of risks it took and how well those risks paid off.  Then I began to pick apart the individual elements of each song and marveled at their compatibility with each other.  Compare Third with those first two records – dear as they are to our collective hearts – and it’s clearly in a league of its own, with a certain haunting timelessness that its forerunners lack.  It’s almost as if the ten-year hiatus never happened.

“Nylon Smile” – Portishead 3:24 (Third, Mercury 2008)

2. Secret Chiefs 3
Xaphan: The Book of Angels, Vol. 9
Tzadik 2008

It would be convenient to regard Xaphan: The Book of Angels, Vol. 9 (2008) as yet another routine entry in the mind-bogglingly bloated discography of John Zorn: group of musicians interprets the Masada songbook for the umpteenth time, rest of the world moves on with little notice.  Xaphan, on the other hand, is something worth investigating, because here Zorn’s Sephardic hymns are filtered through the warped vision of guitarist and esoteric guru Trey Spruance, best known as one of the masterminds behind ‘90s cult weirdos Mr. Bungle and current frontman for his own Secret Chiefs 3 collective.  The spectrum of goodness contained within Xaphan is almost too much to bear: slinky spy themes, drones of radiant tranquility, bursts of drum-machine disfigurement, campy surf rock, uncountable time signatures, blitzes of exotic percussion, wordless female chanting, and perhaps best of all, Spruance’s always-inventive soloing.  Xaphan is adventurous, sophisticated, highly imaginative, and sonically, it’s unparalleled in 2008.  And it’s a mother through a decent pair of headphones.

“Akramachamarei” – Secret Chiefs 3 5:46 (Xaphan: The Book of Angels, Vol. 9, Tzadik 2008)

1. Enslaved
Vertebrae
Nuclear Blast 2008

My expectations were stacked so unfairly against Vertebrae (2008) that I initially thought it wouldn’t stand a chance on this list.  Enslaved last release, Ruun (2006), struck every chord within me with such a sobering intensity that it resonated for months.  Vertebrae doesn’t quite scale those heights but it comes damn close; at the very least it qualifies as another worthy entry in one of the most fascinating catalogues in modern metal.  I wouldn’t expect everyone to have the same where-have-you-been-all-my-life reaction as I did when I first heard this band’s music, but for those wondering what the fuss is all about, Vertebrae is a fine place to start.  The Pink Floyd flourishes are in full evidence here (fully acknowledged by the group) and are inescapable, but dive below the surface and feast on the rest of its unique majesty: the unharnessed twin guitars of Ivar Bjørnson and Arve Isdal are as propulsive as ever, keyboardist Herbrand Larsen’s organ clusters and hypnotic vocals have now become essential to the band’s sound and direction, and Cato Bekkevold’s drum work is simply exquisite.  There are even four-part guitar harmonies, for Christ’s sake.  I can’t recall another band with such a streak of quality releases this decade – five albums now, in this case – and Enslaved rightfully deserve every last bit of praise for the masterwork that is Vertebrae.

“To the Coast” – Enslaved 6:27 (Vertebrae, Nuclear Blast 2008)

FROM DORMANCY… TO EVENTUAL NORMALCY?

Perhaps.  It’s somewhat saddening and yet immensely liberating to have to lull floodwatchmusic.com into an indefinite hibernation at this point, though this news should hardly come as a surprise to anyone keeping tabs here these past few months.  A combination of 15-hour workdays and a multitude of “real life” issues have made it incredibly difficult to devote the time and effort that this site and its readers (the few that are left) deserve, and I refuse to keep it on life support by merely throwing up a YouTube vid once a week for the sake of “updating.”  I don’t get much down time these days, and truthfully, I want to be able to enjoy those few rare moments of solace that come my way without feeling guilty for not writing.  I have a few musical projects on my plate that I need to give some attention to.  I need to teach myself to play piano somewhat competently for graduate school.  I need to be able to listen to music without getting the uncontrollable urge to critically analyze it and publicly comment on it.  And so forth.

I receive just enough in Amazon referral fees for the site to pay for itself, so fear not, newcomers – the archives aren’t going anywhere.  Thanks to everyone who has supported floodwatchmusic in any way, or has ever left a comment here, for that matter.  And speaking of comments, let’s all raise our glasses to the following:

“If you don’t get the band, fine. But dont try to pass off your opinions as some kind of “truth”… You sir, are adding to the pile of pointless music discussions which go by “Oh I really like/d band X, but really were they THAT good?” We could criticise Mozart, Beethoven et al if we wanted to.” –Anthony

“sorry, flood… that smooth production and that “too close to Madonna’s ‘Cherish’” swing feel” gives my mouth this weird “I just smoked a joint of puppy pellets through a rhino’s ass” taste to it.” –duff

“You are the kind of guys sissies take their anger out on. Amazing.” –ohmytenderears

“You’re a condescending know-it-all… You and your similarly conscienced readers might enjoy a band I’m working with called the 1921a that doesn’t consciously rip off indie rock bands, but unconsciously rips off the delta blues and rockabilly dear to their hearts. I kid my brothers but I’m running a new record label called WPA Records that feeds similarly musically disaffected youth in Los Angeles… If you don’t like it, well, fuck you.” –stan

“Ha, censoring comments is the tactic of someone who knows he’s a moron. Maybe you should take your stupid opinions off the internet if you can’t defend them.” –smarterthanyou

“You are so full of yourself how could you possibly know if the music was good? You probably had one hand on your d*ck the whole time you wrote this. Even while you writing about someone else’s band you can’t keep your mind off your own failures It’s no doubt your breath smells like your own c*ck, not a wonder your ears are full of shit also.  Obviously your a frustrated a**hole who never made it playing music …so why should anyone give a f*ck what you think!!!!  Bad mistake FLOODWATCH (hope you have the balls to print this)” –Not Impressed (asterisks supplied by commenter)

“your all dumbfucks” –speedmetalman

“…You’re just another prog-rock guitar-masturbating jerk who forgot how exciting emotions and creation can be.” –guyha

“this is the worst thing i have ever read. you are seriously the biggest dumbass i have ever listened to. the comments you make have no weight whatsoever for anyone who has any sense of what music is and what lyrics are. and you clearly have no clue at all. you’re a complete moron. unbelievable.” –Dell

“…You appear to be just another one of the many, many bad album reveiwers out there. Almost nobody makes ‘album critic’ their goal in life so I’ll assume you plan on moving on and all will be well.” –Marvin Leach

I’ll be back soon, I’m sure, so don’t remove me from your feed readers just yet, peoples.

Whenever I find myself in a particularly dreary environment – whether it’s some excruciating work-related function for my wife’s job or a social gathering where I do nothing but exchange pleasantries with complete strangers – my first impulse is to locate an individual who might have a few intelligent thoughts about music, then adhere to them to ease the passing of the evening.  For some men it’s professional sports, for others it’s grills or power tools, but me – and I realize that this may come as a shock to some of you – I can spend literally hours upon hours discussing music.  I once spent six hours at an exceptionally lame party discussing the merits of Roni Size’s New Forms (1997) with an equally enthusiastic gentleman, eventually sinking to a competition of recreating breakbeat patterns with our mouths after a few too many drinks.  I stayed up until 8:00 AM after a barbeque with a few co-workers digressing upon how brilliant Common’s pre-Like Water for Chocolate (2000) lyricism used to be.  I’ve participated in marathon debates on everything from Debussy to death metal without the slightest inkling of someone’s first name hours into the conversation.  My poor wife has nothing but chagrin as she scouts the premises frantically to introduce me to someone, all the while I’m picking some random dude’s brain about Eastern European folk music.

Yet occasionally there will be times when, just as a discussion has eased into a comfortable rhythm with a healthy exchange of opinions, someone will suddenly spout something so absurd, so ignorant, so vehemently against everything I believe in that every statement thereafter becomes completely devoid of interest or reason.  My brain immediately shuts down and I find myself looking for an escape route, politely at first, then growing desperate by the minute until I’m sweating uncontrollably and I can’t possibly fathom hearing another word this person says.  Far be it for me to shit on someone because of one measly opinion that means very little in the grand scheme of things, but when someone spouts the film-buff equivalent of, “Godfather III (1990) was the best of the trilogy,” what are you gonna do, pleasantly nod your head and continue to sip your drink?  The following are four actual music conversation gaffs that I’ve experienced over the years that have only resulted in heartbreak at the promise of something more than a shallow dialogue of likes-versus-dislikes.

“I still think The Predator is the best work Ice Cube’s ever done.”

Someone actually said this, without a trace of humor or irony.  I was at a wedding reception a few years ago and found myself in the familiar “hip hop ain’t what it used to be” exchange with another reveler.  I was becoming more and more impressed with dude’s recollections of when Poor Righteous Teachers’ Holy Intellect (1990) dropped and how floored he was by the production on Son of Bazerk’s Bazerk Bazerk Bazerk (1991) when suddenly this steaming pile of insight dropped from his jaws.  I began to feel dizzy as I pondered the Jedi-like mental stamina it would take for me to wrap my head around a statement this asinine.  Sure, I mean, in hindsight The Predator (1992) holds up pretty well, but, come on – ever hear of a little record titled AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted (1990)?  To say nothing of one of the ten (arguably) most important statements in the entire canon, the peerless Death Certificate (1991)?  Any hope of a teasing “Ha! Gotcha!” became fleeting as he began decrying The Bomb Squad’s “dated production” on Cube’s debut and blaspheming about Sir Jinx’s “messy funk samples” on his shining hour.  Plus, and I didn’t realize this until later, but “ever done” carries the implication that Cube is still producing music of any sort of relevancy; wouldn’t “ever did” be more appropriate?  I bowed out of the conversation respectfully and returned to my assigned table to pick at the leftover dessert plates as I waited for the evening to end.

“Wicked” – Ice Cube 3:55 (The Predator, Priority 1992)

“J Dilla was so overrated.” b/w “All white people love J Dilla.”

I’ve stated before that I prefer Dilla’s earlier work over his post-millennium output (give or take a year), but that’s mostly because of the countless number of lesser producers who’ve bitten his signature off-syncopated shuffle and beat patterns in their drum tracks.  I can’t add anything to Dilla’s legacy that hasn’t been better articulated elsewhere, and I don’t want to get into the odd and obsessive file-sharing exhumation of his work since his passing.  But to dismiss him as “overrated” and nothing more is plain ignorant.  And (in this case) how can you claim Premier as your favorite producer ever without giving a shred of acknowledgement to Dilla?  And what the hell does “all white people love Dilla” mean?  These two back-to-back gaffs essentially halted what had up until then been an exhaustive discussion of the hip hop producer lexicon between myself and a friend, and neither of us has spoken of it since; it’s not exactly half-in-the-bag material that begins with, “Dude!  Remember that time when you said…”  Since then our hip hop-related conversations have been as dull as Q-Tip’s post-Tribe career.  A shame, really.  Speaking of Tribe…

“Climax (Instrumental)” – Slum Village 3:32 (Fantastic, Vol. 2, Goodvibe 2000)

“See, this is why Eminem is the greatest rapper of all time.”

It was a late afternoon in May as a group of my friends and I congregated around a picnic table, a few of us keeping eyes on the grill, sipping beers and enjoying the first warm breeze in eight months.  I was engaged in a lively track-by-track discussion of Midnight Marauders (1993) with a guy I didn’t know that well, as he was the new boyfriend of a friend of mine.  So far he had a thumbs-up approval from me, praising the snare hits and six-bar loops of the record, and dropping verse excerpts (both Tip and Phife’s) when necessary.  I must have slipped into a brief reverie for a moment, because the next thing I heard was something along the lines of Eminem and the word “greatest” without the slightest inkling of a segue.  I stared at him like he was a blathering, incomprehensible idiot as the guy gushed over Marshall Mathers like a proud parent whose kid just made the honor roll (this was 2003, if I recall correctly).  Look, I’m not trying to hate on some washed-up, near-forgotten white rapper who made the most out of his fifteen minutes, and I certainly won’t knock anyone who keeps a few of his discs on their shelf.  But the G.O.A.T., for Christ’s sake?  Besides, weren’t we just talking about Midnight Marauders here?  I stood up, said something along the lines of, “I can’t participate in this conversation anymore,” and broke the hell out like chickenpox.  A month later she dumped his ass.  Everything in its right place, as the saying goes.

“Doe or Die is better than Illmatic.”

I love it when folks get a hankering to take Illmatic (1994) down a peg or two on the totem pole of Hip Hop Classics (I see you Brandon and Robbie) – not because I necessarily think it’s a weak or overrated album, but because Illmatic’s ego could always use a little deflation now and then.  Back in college I was having a chat with a fellow classmate before class when he dropped the above gem on me, and the reason the conversation ended wasn’t attributed to me throwing my arms up in defeat, but rather that I had to actually pause and think about his declaration.  AZ’s Doe or Die (1995) is the wild card of mid-‘90s NYC crime rap, a record I’ve always strongly defended and championed whenever the opportunity presented itself. While I was stunned in intense consideration, he shot me a smug look of satisfaction like, “Made you think, huh?”  By the time I could retort, class had already started, so I whispered back to him, “Doe or Die falls apart toward the end.”  Without a moment’s hesitation he responded, “So does Illmatic.”  Damn! Ultimately, my opinion of Illmatic hasn’t swayed, but I’ll graciously anoint props to anyone who genuinely believes that it stands in Doe or Die’s superior shadow.

“Ho Happy Jackie” – AZ 3:34 (Doe or Die, EMI 1995)