What Are We Gonna Do With All This Trash?: Rapid Fire 2011 Top Albums: For Dads with Babies Rolling Under the Couch

December 17, 2011

Rapid Fire 2011 Top Albums: For Dads with Babies Rolling Under the Couch

Album. Artist. Cover Art. Random lyric/blurb. GO!

Bat Meets Blaine. Qwazaar & Batsauce.

I hate "hip-hop is dead" diagnoses. Get a second opinion.

Let England Shake. PJ Harvey.

Ditto "albums are dead" diagnoses.

Rainforest [EP]. Clams Casino.

Best album art of 2011, easily. Best hip-hop sound collages. (see also: Clams' Instrumental mixtape.)

Blouse. Blouse.

Best new artist? Yeah, I'll go with that.

On the Water. Future Islands.

"I hope you have what you need/ I hope the moon is listening"

Civilian. Wye Oak.

Yeah Baltimore.

Ἀποκάλυψις (Apocalypsis). Chelsea Wolfe.

Even though the cover art and minute-thirty of screeching on Track #1 told me to run away with my fingers in my ears, the rest of the album turned into something pretty great.

Go Tell Fire to the Mountain. WU LYF.

"No matter what they said/ Dollar is not your friend"

Conatus. Zola Jesus.

Stunning voice (kinda like Siouxsie's) and goth-pop sensibilities (kinda like Siouxsie's), but also not a Siouxsie clone.

Widowspeak. Widowspeak.

Excellent Mazzy Star impersonation, especially if that Mazzy Star reunion doesn't pan out.

Early 2012 contenders: Grimes' Visions, First Aid Kit's A Lion's Roar, Nite Jewel's One Second of Love, Complex (Vol 1 - Lex Records' 10th Anniversary), DOOMSTARKS???...

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A History Of Trash

Trash, at first, was a pretty cool guy. You know, he’d come over with some beers, and you’d hang out and have a couple of laughs. Maybe Trash brought some weed with him, and you guys tried to sync up Dark Side Of The Moon with The Wizard Of Oz until you remembered you lost your VHS copy of that movie sometime in college and that you fucking hate Pink Floyd. Good times were had, nonetheless.

But then, you don’t know what changed, but Trash started to overstay his welcome. He’d just linger for hours, never taking the hint you wanted him to leave, no matter how many times you yawned obnoxiously or mentioned how early you had to get up tomorrow. Trash just didn’t get it. You were getting older. You didn’t have the time anymore to stay up until 3 a.m. to talk about the Port season of “The Wire” or how much you miss Jawbox. Eventually, you just stopped taking Trash’s phone calls and no longer replied to his group e-mails about sneaking into abandoned mental hospitals.

Last time you saw Trash, he was smoking alone outside a local dive bar, looking down at his decaying and mismatched shoes. You hoped he had been doing well. You hoped he had not been hurt by the disintegration of your friendship. And if he had, you wanted to comfort him. You wanted to tell him that even though people move on with their lives, it doesn’t mean they stop caring. You wanted him to see in your eyes a sincere appreciation for the time you shared, because all the relationships in our lives help make us who we are, and even if you weren’t the best of friends anymore, you wanted him to know that there would always be a piece of Trash in your heart.

But instead, you looked away and crossed the street. You were with your new girlfriend, and you really didn’t want to have to explain Trash to her. She’d never understand.