One of the best, and most unexpected, songs to come out of the community of unsigned artists in 2013 is Evan Andree's "Falafal". The phonetic get-around in the title is an analog for "Feel awful", the song's real title lyric. Breathy synthesizers and plaintive guitars open and close the arrangement, the middle full of Andree's affected falsetto. It's a plea for common ground, even if the common ground is troubled: "I want to share something with anyone else," he sings before spinning into the sky under the power of the song's chorus, "I feel awful, feel awful/ Won't you feel awful, feel awful with me?" Objectively, it isn't the most inspiring edict, but the hook is an electric mixture of Arcade Fire tropes and Oberhofer execution, a refrain with snapping downbeat and soaring, singable, four-note signature. It will be in your head for days, demanding repeat, a towering pop monolith to the depths of codependent misery.
Welcome to our annual countdown of the 50 best songs of the calendar year. Songs must be from an EP, LP or demo released during 2012 and no band may appear twice. Today, we count down 40 to 31.
Howth, all rich with horns and moral victories offered the outlines of a clandestine financial reserve on glittering single, "Secret Goldmine". A down-stroke guitar and drums cribbed from the National's catalog, "Secret Goldmine" was an unrequited love song, pitched at the last minute in hopes that the feeling would be mutual. "I'm thrilled to be your secret goldmine," was code for something else: unconditional and long form duets.
39. Maps and Atlases - "Fever"
In a year lacking big, bold rock songs, "Fever" did its best to roll the collective windows down and jam the collective accelerator pedal to the collective floor. It was supposed to be a transfiguration, a dreamed moment when the "Fever" passed and we were a more reasonable, less knee-jerk, rational species. Of course, the wailing guitars and slamming drums did little in this stead. "Fever" passed, tipping five minutes, but not without the break that comes in the middle of the night and at high temperature.
Donora, a Pittsburgh band with brash enough chops to make a name for themselves on the national scene, broke through in 2012 with a rigorous touring schedule and a singular moment on, "And Then The Girls". There was an argument that it was the year's best chorus, a refrain that drove over and over and over at the same idea: the title lyric in falsetto, four notes in play and all of them pleasing to the ear. It was maybe vapid, but so was Le Tigre, and "And Then The Girls" recalled a glossy riot grrl chic, girls in revolt but tastefully done.
For anyone waiting on the Future Islands record that never came in 2012, Mirror Talk was the baritone synth pop of which your dreams were made. Rooted in an oblique question - "Is it true love?" (and the comma placement or lack there of made all the difference) - "Choose Life" was the grinding, industrial jam to architect the last stages of a disaster. It was New Order for kids that knew New Order; it was Future Islands for people that already loved Future Islands.
36. Eliza and the Bear - "Brother's Boat"
The insistent opening guitar chords of "Brother's Boat" announced the arrival of Eliza and the Bear. It was post-Mumford pop, folk music with a touch of bombast, Edward Sharpe without all the commercial overtones. The final explosion, "Just let it go," was built for Beasts of the Southern Wild, an anthem for where the wild things actually were.
35. Princeton - "Remembrance Of Things To Come"
Princeton does baroque pop better than anyone in indie rock and "Remembrance Of Things To Come" was no exception. It was all build and no payoff, strings frantically chasing a syncopated piano progression around a falsetto vocal. It was indie rock for a string quartet, things lost and forgotten or, as the band suggested, those memories yet to be made.
34. Oberhofer - "HEART"
No one went more for broke in indie rock this year than Oberhofer on "HEART". The all caps title was an overture, an introduction, to what was a twitchy and bombastic arrangement. The final movement, one of the best 90-seconds of music this year, was a crashing, tumbling conclusion to an already bold arrangement. It was about losing love, a shuddering coda to a brilliant bit of somber pop, Bradley Oberhofer cooing down the back of the disaster.
33. Chairlift - "I Belong In Your Arms"
There is a world where Chairlift's "I Belong In Your Arms" was the single best song of 2012, a glittering bit of synth pop built for an 80s movie that was never made. Like The Chocolate War, the gags are slapstick and the allegories are hard to miss, Polachek and her crew making a crystalline arrangement that drives restlessly forward like a lost and improved Kate Bush single.
32. Lord Huron - "Time To Run"
Things fell apart internally in 2012, or at the very least, continued their pattern of utter instability. So pardon Lord Huron for looking outward on lead single, "Time To Run," a banging and clattering slice of world pop that served a bit of footnoted notice to bands like Local Natives and Vampire Weekend. The truth was out there, to be sure, a mixture of love and loss in the service of foreign interests and neocolonial ideas.
In the era of the overly certain opinion, "How Do I Know" presented a pleasant countretemps. All about not knowing if she or he was the one, Here We Go Magic offered a bit of indecision - and this is completely absurd because "How Do I Know" is also so clearly a love song - in a time and place where everyone, everywhere, all the time, has a take.
There is no good way to leave the world and only few good ways to get old in it. Long Walks On The Beach, one of our favorite projects for myriad reasons, offer a case for maturity that is both clear-eyed and stupidly romantic. The lyrical references chart territory regarding the power of "moonlight", and lines like "in our dreams, the crowd swells" all over shabby guitars and crystalline strings. The final shambling conclusion brings the arrangement to a moment of self-actualization around the tautology of the title, "We're Growing Up". Never has this felt more true and more valuable and, blessedly, without the specter of nagging injuries, day jobs, consumer debt, the grinding uncertainties of adult life that never make the cut at college commencement addresses. If there exists a good way to get old, this is surely it, three minutes of perfect pop music and a sense that all cannot be lost when so much unfolds to the vanishing points forward.
Bradley Oberhofer has a thing about leaving. On first break-though 2010 demo, "I Could Go", Oberhofer, yelped about the need for some kind of escape velocity, the kind of thing you imagine a 19-year old thinks about before they become a minor establishment on the New York indie rock circuit. With a full length debut out on Glassnote, Oberhofer now turns his attention to the haunting piano hooks of Kanye West's "Runaway". It is a predictably self-loathing affair, opening with high-fret guitars before finally settling into a falsetto chorus that could almost merge with a half-the-BPMs version of, "I Could Go". As the piano chimes against the grubby little guitars you can almost hear the brittle and fractious Oberhofer yelping out, "I could go ... away" against the real lyrics about "douche bags" and "assholes". At once faithful and playful, Oberhofer's version is gorgeous in spurts and ironic without cracking a smile. Either way, honest or not, he and Kanye are both certain about needing to get away from everyone, maybe even themselves.
There are a few Bradley Oberhofers on the cusp of the release of his debut full length album. There was the college student and label intern, so absurdly precocious that his demo songs demanded attention. The cuts were organized cacophony, colliding time signatures and arrangement shifts all thrown against Oberhofer's trademark, tweaking caterwaul. He had just moved from Tacoma, Washington and most of his song lyrics involved either staying ("Haus") or going ("I Could Go"). Then there was the Oberhofer I saw at Bowery Ballroom, shrieking with such intensity that the upstairs bar shook and the British girls to my left wrinkled their noses and said, "What the fuck is that?" This was not a compliment. The frenzy - frenetic and urgent - didn't always deliver. Then there is the Oberhofer of lead single, "HEART", the promotional track from his upcoming Glassnote debut. It is more plaintive, the mercy of a furious style worn smooth with time and a terrible relationship. The lyrics handle the latter in negative space, the architecture of the arrangement mirroring this impulse, rising and dwarfing the lonely narrator. The vocals, piano, and strings collapse into each other and Oberhofer finds himself all these people at once. A murderous young talent, unstoppable in so many ways, anxious and tweaking in so many others, sailing to the top of his ability, collecting all of his selves in one triumphant, terrible, moment.
Some people just have a flair for departure. Brad Oberhofer, the label intern and NYU student turned serious indie rock commodity, spent most of his first best song, "I Could Go" yelping the title lyric to the enjoyment of everyone who listened. It was a mantra for a generation of shrugging kids who were content to, pardon the reference, take it or leave it. Newly signed to Glassnote, Oberhofer's latest track, "Gotta Go" is a different animal, suggesting a more lilting, emotional pathos about the power of a reverse impulse, the power of not leaving. If 19 year old Bradley was into the fact that he turned his back on Tacoma, Washington in a flourish, he has turned into more of a New York kid, full of solipsisms, a measure of rye self-pity and a narrative of co-dependency that is as intently argued as it is probably untrue. It is, in part or parcel, for show. When he rhymes "I don't ever want to leave" with "that would be too sad for me", he's putting us all on a bit. It doesn't mean that you can't grow up and lean yourself against someone else. It's just that he seemed a shade more earnest when he chirped about leaving us all behind.
Wolf Parade released perhaps their last and perhaps their best record, 2010's Expo 86. Lovers of the Apologies-era Wolf Parade found something in this smoother, darker version of the band. On "Ghost Pressure," haunting, frozen synths dance around the ceiling like spectres before a playful, upstroke chorus implies that this paranormal activity might not be all bad, "Little vision come shake me up, shake me up." Dan Boeckner spends the song's final two minutes in a direct conversation with these chilly keyboards, barking about swarms of bees and this imminently altering vision.
Uber-pretentious Brooklyn duo, Tanlines forecast a world in which we are perpetually promising to begin anew. It seemed that this urban-tribal pop was all the rage in 2010 and no one did it better than the two-some with the bad habit of saying about New York, "Um, yeah, we're from here." Despite their weak stage banter, the band proved a winner with "Real Life," and its concurrent assurance, "It was a passed life thing, it was a passed life thing." For New York kids with a ton to work on, it wasn't a flawed promise. For a song with nothing but sweetness in its borders, it wasn't anything at all.
28. Various Cruelties - "If It Wasn't For You"
A slice of throwback pop and a conditional message about love, Various Cruelties delivered one of the catchiest singles of the year with "If It Wasn't For You." The backing swells with some well-intentioned keys playing the role of strings. We can't promise this band will explode in 2011, but with a one-off this good, it would be an absolute shame if they didn't.
In the 2008 version of this list, we listed Temper Trap's "Sweet Disposition" in the 20s. There was no clear sense that the song was not only the song of that year, but, in all probability, one of the best rock songs of the last ten years. On Mr. Little Jeans' "Rescue Song," we can't be certain of a similar explosion of this one song, but what is certainly true is that this girl is a comer, destined to invade your 2011 in a bizarre combination of Lykke Li and Feist. Put simply, if you're not ready, be ready.
26. Oberhofer - "I Could Go"
If repetition is the soul of pop music - and those songs we take most seriously to heart, those we hear most serially - then Brad Oberhofer is the dealer of this new brand. On "I Could Go," one of the most unbelievably catchy songs of 2010, Oberhofer utters twinkling keys behind a motivated rock arrangement that finally explodes into a million little pieces. It was the most explosive, true indie rock of the year and for that there are no apologies or explanations.
The mixture of Andy Hull and Kevin Devine didn't result in a fantastic record, but it generated a stunning and erupting single from Bad Books. The initial acoustic underpinnings hide all of the final thrashing aesthetic of the chorus and its singular message about things being either so good or so bad that you, well, shouldn't have to ask. An attention span under two minutes doesn't stop "You Wouldn't Have To Ask" from being one of the best rock songs of 2010.
24. The New Pornographers - "We End Up Together"
In all probability the New Pornographers made 2010's best song to characterize a fracturing and faithful American landscape. We are both certain that we are screwed, and for the damage that will necessarily ensue, and yet we are unavoidably in favor of our own co-dependence. Yes, we are for damage, sweet damage, and yet, in the midst of what might be our favorite but not best song of the year, we will all be in the same boat as we fly over the top of the falls.
It was club music for the kids partying at the bottom of the local swimming pool. Twin Sister was cold medicine techno for kids with down-stroke sensibility and affection for a laissez-faire female vocalist only matched by Victoria Legrand. The bass line was out to lunch and the guitars were only built to shuffle feet. The sea sick vocals and Dramamine synths were what made this unique, one of the few songs to encourage and demand our attention from a New York band with nothing but future in front of them.
Opening with the persistent rain that colors none of the rest of "Mighty," Lord Huron, LA's answer the Vampire Weekend problem so aptly posed by the band of the same name in 2007, offered nothing but sunshine on their most stunning single of 2010. "Mighty" was to indie rock what the Lion King was to the world of animated movies in the mid-1990s. Certainly it was full to brim, and unapologetically so, but it was the pop swell of the chorus that stuck well beyond the pop of the moment.
21. Stornoway - "I Saw You Blink"
Stornoway produced not only one of the great folk records of 2010, but two of the great singles, "Zorbing" and "I Saw You Blink." After weeks of internal debate and much fuss, we decided that "I Saw You Blink" was the superior of the two, leaving "Zorbing" out in the cold with its artistic integrity and pop-hooks as its only sustenance. Well, we have no such grandiose vision. "I Saw You Blink" is one of the best singles of the year. Beyond that - Lucy, whoever you are - we refuse to provide answers to the band's central question. We assume "the one," is in all of us and out there somewhere for everyone.
One of our favorite new New York acts is the poverbial young gun, originally from Tacoma, Washington; Bradley Oberhofer. Playing under simply his last name, Oberhofer, we shot some emails back and forth about monikers, sonics and how his band didn't end up being called Quick Tit.
32feet: Last five songs played on your iTunes? Only lie if they're super awful or incriminating.
Bradley Oberhofer:
1. “Stillness of the Mind”- Abel Korzeniowski 2. “Flytrap”- Ace Tone Fuzz Master 3. “Black Rice”- Women 4. “You Have My Eyes Now”- Clues 5. “Cold Wind”- Arcade Fire
Describe the thought process behind naming a band after your last name. If this trend had taken off in the early 1990s, we all we could have loved and then boycotted, simply, Matthews' "Ants Marching." Subquestion: Was it tempting to ironically name yourself The Bradley Oberhofer Band? (I recognize you address this in dramatic succinctness on your myspace.)
I could really just never come up with anything else I felt enthusiastic about. There were a lot of things I considered, but I didn't find anything else as interesting. “Teeth” was taken, and I was contemplating a few others. Someone nearly convinced me to change the name to “Quick Tit”. Part of me regrets not taking their advice. I would never call it my band mostly because the live show is way better than the recordings thanks to the other people in the band. (Mike, Andrew, Pete). I kind of just like the meter of my last name.
I called your songs post-apocalyptic, orchestral pop. How far off is that?
I mean, as of now it's not as orchestral as I can afford, but it's definitely post-apocalyptic. I think I aspire more toward “apocalyptic”, than “post-apocalyptic”.
If Oberhofer was stranded on a sinking ship and help wasn't going to arrive in time, who gets the only life preserver you find?
Well Andrew's beard is pretty buoyant, and Mike can swim like a fish. So, Pete gets the life preserver, plus he's the cutest.
What is the biggest secret plan for the band in 2010 that you can tell us right now? Well I mean, if it were secret, I wouldn’t tell you. Let’s leave this part mysterious.
Ok, fair. What is one thing people should absolutely remember about Oberhofer that they don't know or consistantly get wrong?
That I wouldn’t be able to achieve much at all without the band I play with (Andrew, Mike and Pete), but I also really want people to pay more attention to the musical talent that exists in Tacoma, WA. It’s there. Sorry, that’s two things.
There is a restrained mania to Oberhofer's "I Could Go." Buzzing synths, a haunting whistle and air-puffed drum-loops finally give way to an ebullient rain of chimes, and all of this is before we've heard word-one from vocalist Bradley Oberhofer. The arrangement is borrowed from the Win Butler school with different aesthetic choices place-holding for the Arcade Fire's orchestral pop. Or maybe more accurately, this is post-apocalyptic orchestral pop, with all the electronic influences of a digital age, but the human howl of Oberhofer finding its way into the song's final third. The singular suggestion of the narrative is in the haunting chorus, the arrangement collapsing and changing around Oberhofer as he indicates that he could go, he could go, he could go ... away. It is truly the contest between the planned and the unexpected that makes "I Could Go" so moving - the sound of pop music being let outside, taken off the leash, and left to do battle with the electric fence at the edge of the yard.
