Special Issue: The Best?

On looking back.

Part I: The List™ (in no particular order)

• Fiddlehead – Between the Richness
• Drug Church – Tawny
• Hundreds of AU – Acting From Remote Satellites
• Ekulu – Unscrew My Head
• Angel Du$t – YAK: A Collection of Truck Songs
• King Woman – Celestial Blues
• Møl – Diorama
• Wowod – Yarost’ I Proschenie
• Aesop Rock x Blockhead – Garbology

(Click the release to go the corresponding Bandcamp page)

Part II: What Happened?

There you have it: my favourites of the year that was, as in my physical possession. Another year-end list offered on the altar of self-importance. With this slightly self-denigrating comment, I just mean to say: there are so many year-end lists out there it’s hard to keep them apart. The best this. The best that. Many things you might have missed. A few things we recommend. And so on. And so forth.

Terror Management started this year because my brain is broken in a very specific way: there are just some thoughts I can’t ignore and need to get out into the world. What better way than to fling them into the endless void that is the internet: out, damned brainwave! And so I started a newsletter that is only updated sporadically, with long-form essays containing personal stories and philosophical ideas based on mostly underground music. In other words: there is not much more I could’ve done to create a smaller potential audience for myself than start this project.

Which is fine.

But now, at year’s (if not wit’s) end, the creeping spectre of nostalgia in its infantile stage compels me to look back, resulting in the list you see at the top of this post. Getting into specific thoughts on each of these was the original intent of this piece, but frankly, when it comes to music the old adage ‘the less said, the better’ is usually true. (Which is ironic considering I spent this year typing over 13.000 words about the subject.) There are links up there, so just listen to these albums and EP’s and hopefully there’s something in here that you haven’t heard before but will find to your liking.

More interesting than this list, or any other list, I would think, is reflecting on the concept of looking back and making lists. Organising our thoughts. A practice that perhaps would be beneficial throughout the year, not just at its end.

Doing it at a specific, marked moment in time is, of course, an integral part of our yearly timekeeping ritual. Another building block in the immense construct of our collective wish for immortality that is our culture. “Hear! These are my allegiances,” we shout. “This is what will stand after I have perished. I was a part of it. Remember me!”

What a bunch of drama.

But we live for it, don’t we? So let’s leave that for now.

Then, let’s turn our attention to a more practical consequence (as opposed to cause) of the list making: it’s a great way to re-appreciate the music we’ve loved but have perhaps left by the wayside in months past.

Let us first appreciate and praise the value of social media in discovering new music. For any music lover who actively seeks out new musical experiences, the likes of Instagram, Twitter and yes, even Facebook, are amazing tools. Follow artists and bands, see when they’re playing near you, when they’re releasing new work – all things made so easy because of these relatively new tools. I particularly love artists supporting each other and promoting other artist’s work, thereby opening new doors for the likes of me without having to dig too deep throught he muck of the internet.

Part III: New Music Addiction

With all that said: there are downsides. Let’s forget, for a moment, about how the most popular social media networks are owned and operated by a handful of extremely big companies run by obscenely wealthy people who have made it a mission to impose their Christian shame on the world by limiting what can be expressed on these platforms. And let’s forget that this unilateral control of these means of expression also means they can very easily stop existing, taking down with it everything they contain. Atlantis, enormous in its hubris, but always on the verge of being swallowed by the endless ocean.

So those are Bad™ things, no doubt.

Rather, I want to focus on something that is the unfortunate byproduct of a system that is constantly trying to feed us something new.

Let me put it this way: at about sixteen years old, I was doing a lot of cycling. To get to school, to get to friends, to go to shows – my bikes over the years have made lots of miles. My trusty walkman and collection of tapes made these hundreds of hours bearable. There is no way known to humankind to count how many times the likes of Hello Nasty and Black Sails in the Sunset got into these ears, but the lyrics of records I listened to in this period have been massaged into the folds of my brain to such a degree that I could still recite Intergalactic to you at the drop of a hat.

In the last five years, no records have seen the light of day that I have listened to as much as I did to those cassettes then. They just don’t stick around as long – not because of any lack of quality, but simply because of the plentiful bounty that the internet now brings. In this era of musical hyperinflation, we always have something new to occupy us, for free or a relatively low price, with social media always igniting our excitement to hop to the next big thing.

(And of course, let’s not discount that a lot of this ‘new’ is being served in playlists which to a large extent are being dictated by the powers that stand to make money off them.)

The disruption of the economy of music has brought us much versatility, but has simultaneously robbed us of the forced opportunity to create a deeper appreciation of certain works of art. Once was, one would buy a record and that would be their record for the next few weeks, at least. Perhaps because of lack of funds, or just because physical distribution has its limits.

Now, a tidal wave of new releases floods our senses on a weekly basis, a forever high that finds us constantly scrambling for something new to listen to – anything! Just because it’s there. Always.

Deconstructing strange rituals and behavorial patterns usually comes at the cost of seeming to degrade and trivialise them. To say something doesn’t make sense, implies it’s a futile exercise. That’s incorrect. Just because the End of Year List is a weird ritual that doesn’t make a whole lot of rational sense when you break it down to its core components, doesn’t mean that it’s not worth doing. After all, being human is an irrational endeavour.

What I’m pleading for, more than anything, is to take this custom that is already so ingrained in our music culture, and turn it into something even more meaningful: a chance to re-engage and reappraise. A chance to dig deeper, and form true bonds with these releases. Doing so transforms the way we listen to music. It allows us to define what parts connect with us, and opens our eyes and ears to the possible intent of artists – even when the melodies don’t directly connect on first impact.

In other words: it opens the door to engaging with an artist through their work on their terms, rather than ours. And because of this, we learn to listen from another perspective.

What a gift that is.

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