What a strange and slightly crazy year it has been. Apart from disgusting acts of violence across the globe and having to endure the sociopathic tendencies of an orange-skinned dictator, the music world needed another righteous shot in the arm and it emerged bloody, bruised, beaten but unbowed at different points throughout the yet to be completed 365.
I may be cheating a little, starting off with a late 2016 release that I only discovered in the early days of 2017. Beyonce’s sweet sister Solange (she who beat on Jay-Z in a lift to declaim his cheating heart) arose like a phoenix with the sublime R’n’B grooves of ‘A Seat At The Table’, a cocktail so addictive and emotionally challenging that I could not extricate it from my playlist for weeks on end. It’s still there now and sets the very high standard for the remainder of the year. Featuring voice-overs from members of her family, it tracks a story of oppression set against furious self-belief matched by ethereal melodies, multi-tracked harmonies and heart-rending lyrics.
This could happily sit alongside Frank Ocean’s ‘Blonde’ – a release that escaped me due to my Luddite need to have the CD in my hand but I came into contact with later in the year via my Amazon prime account. Oh the joys of digital compression! I have merely sampled it but its elusive genius and anti-song structures will draw me back in over and over; souls like Frank only come along every 10 years or so. We should embrace his raw honesty and distinct lack of public persona in these days of Drake and Kanye – the ultimate ‘show me nothing’ showmen.
An easier comparison lies in the direction of 70’s revivalists Fleet Foxes, whose ‘Crack-Up’ failed to bother the charts again in the middle of the year. Like Solange, they build ethereal soundscapes, suggestion becoming a loud breath, arms thrown up to the heavens, imploring the listener to dive in to their vocally symphonic tales from Appalachian legend. Theirs is an oeuvre blasting out of the amber and aspic and fastening hard onto your heart and head, refusing to let go. This is music that craves your full attention and makes you think, feel harder than before. No way indeed is this music for the background – much more the forefront of your cranium. Yes, it is difficult, lacks immediacy and takes time to unravel its secrets; yet, once ensnared you will be calling up random acquaintances to force its wonders upon them, without remorse.
Indeed, it seems that the volatile political atmosphere was both addressed and becalmed by some of the more personal offerings casting their nets wide into the ocean of public opinion. Returning to the fray after a good 5 years on the backburner, James Murphy’s LCD Soundsystem attacked mediocrity with the gargantuan concept LP ‘American Dream’, once more an explicitly political excursion into the heart of every matter going. Magnificent in every way, it grew and expanded outward, wide like a canyon, its raging river beating at the centre with tracks like ‘Call the Police’ and ‘Emotional Haircut’, sounding fresher and more urgent than ever but this time extending those motoric grooves to 10 minutes and beyond, with not one beat wasted. Hell, it takes patience but the rewards are great. I would wager Murphy has almost created his own genre – post-millennial irony anyone? All I know is I want more of this 40-something angst, which makes me want to swallow the sky and vomit up rainbows.
Where do we go from here? Down to the lake…No, into the fire of 2017 poptasticness! Everyone’s favourite three sister group of beautiful crazies Haim shot back into the public eye with the widescreen Fleetwood Mac meets West Coast wide-eyed lustfulness that was ‘Something to Tell You’. Striding down an empty LA highway in the video to the blissful ‘I Want You Back’ with funny, untutored dance moves and a huge dose of anti-ennui, these femmes flirted with insouciance but were deadly serious when it came to acquiring POP! POP! POP! legend status. Granted, it was not as drop dead gorgeous in every way as their debut but how does one follow up one of the most sparkling debuts in recent decades? You produce more of the same then shift the goalposts a little to the left of centre – more difficult to score an own goal then, eh? Either way, it spews out huge chunks of sunshine and a multitude of yellows and oranges to assault your happiness cells. Beat that Coldplay and your scraping-the-barrel flirtations with the fxxking Chainsmokers!
As you might also expect, Everything Everything blasted into the upper atmosphere for the 4th time in 8 years to surprise and delight in equal measure. They possess an uncanny knack to craft leftfield, uncompromising future pop which resembles shooting stars directly communicating with the inner sections of your burning soul. Matt Johnson eat your heart out, literally.
‘A Fever Dream’ almost eclipses ‘Get To Heaven’, a task so fiendishly unfair that the architects of the pyramids would blush with envy. It doesn’t quite reach the freakishly brilliant heights of ‘To The Blade’ or ‘Blast Doors’ but with the funk punk awesomeness of ‘Ivory Tower’ and the deathless beauty of ‘Put Me Together’ it damn well almost succeeds. Like all the finest albums, it repays repeated listens until complete surrender is inevitable.
A late entry comes in the form of the delectable Dua Lipa, whose self-titled offering is immediately addictive and, I’m sure, not meant for men the wrong side of 40. However, I can't resist a pop classic when it hits my earlobes and ‘Be the One’ is Exhibit number one – featuring a killer chorus and a verse that tugs insistently at your willing heartstrings. The remainder of this debut never fails to impress: I’d wager there’s only one potentially duff track out of 12. I’ll use that sometimes-neglected phrase - ‘all killer, no filler’. 750 million streams of ‘New Rules’ on YouTube tell you summat. A lot of people dig her and so might you…
Early doors witnessed the return of two stalwarts on the song-writing scene – Ryan Adams and Elbow. Both deal in purity, wide soundscapes, music that breathes deeply and wraps you in rapture. Both on constant repeat for the first quarter of this year, they remain very close to my listening affections even now.
The former stayed solo with ‘Prisoner’ unleashing his uncanny knack to sound half-asleep yet completely committed to mainlining heartbreak straight to your emotional bank account, leaving you hopelessly in thrall to his paeans to sweet desolation. Guy and crew cast their nets far and wide, across oceans of regret and unabashed romantic liaisons, catching you in a deep and everlasting hug where mountains become hills, waves engulf you in pure love and joy you’ll want to experience over and again till the tears of happiness flow freely. They are beyond national treasure status. They are as we are – furious and unbridled in their humanity. Put simply, when listening to ‘Little Fictions’ you will feel more alive and more grateful for the gift of melody than ever before. As for those lyrics, let’s make Guy the next poet laureate and be done with it. Yes, we’ll be crying into our empty pint pots but those tears will glow with hope and immortality, all crooned in a Bury burr. There’s no going back me dears…
I’m a little spent after that. However, there will always be room for The XX, whose third release proper ‘I See You’ meets and exceeds expectations with muscular bass lines and confessional balladry set against Jamie XX’s otherworldly late night club land grooves, deeper than the dive of a sperm whale and more refreshing than a bottle-nosed dolphin’s ever present grin. Matched to their sublime set at Glasto, this album lit up the landscape throughout 2017, wearing its beating heart very much on its pulsating sleeve. Innocence lost , yet passion regained. Celebrate this unique band with everyone you come across – they’ll love you for it.
Honourable mentions go to cuddly curmudgeons The National, whose ‘Sleep Well Beast’ creeps up on you unsuspectingly before lodging its charms into your willing memory banks. Not as instantaneous or thrilling as ‘Trouble Will Find Me’ but it digs deep into the darker layers of existence before taking a hold and forgetting to let go. A grower. Mark Eitzel’s umpteenth solo excursion ‘Hey Mr Ferryman’, produced with excessive humility by Bernard Butler, is both intimate and troubled, although shot through with a double measure of optimism whilst still dwelling on mortality, as is his wont: surely an international symbol for the troubled soul.
It’s getting late and to bed I must head but I can't leave without disclosing my personal highlight above all colours. His third album proper and no less ground breaking than previous outings, this artist blows my preconceptions away like so many cobwebs each and every time he puts pen to brain to mind-altering backing track. He puts almost every poet to shame (although he has an equal in Black Thought) and barrels the likes of Lil Pump, Gucci Mane and any other mumble rapper over with his phrasing and multiplicity of voices – sometimes 3 or 4 in one song. K Lam, K Dot, King Kendrick- what ever you may want to call him-reignited the fire below and set off a storm of jaw-droppingly intense raps about Trump’s America, the vagaries of fame and the political landscape blasted into submission by right wing rhetoric that feeds off latent racism and intolerance. Kendrick Lamar’s vision is clear, so ‘Damn’ clear, so right, righteous, upfront, declarative and energetic and his constant ability to effortlessly reinvent himself defies belief. A true original, whose legacy is already secure for generations to come. He makes me proud to be alive and human in his lifetime and this applies to all of the above.
So, go on then, fellow humans, carpe diem and dive in, if you haven't already. What do you have to lose, except for your preconceptions?
Words by Hugh Ogilvie