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| Lowlight at the Asbury Music Awards |
At the Deadline
Lowlight were one of my favorite discoveries of 2015. Their sound sits somewhere in the spaces that exist between country and rock, and you even get the occasional hint of the members' prog rock backgrounds. They brought out a new song at the Asbury Music Awards that had them sounding absolutely epic.
I'd been seeing Renee Maskin out at shows for a while. We'd had some pretty good conversations over whiskey and beer, but -- if my Flickr account is to be believed -- I'd never seen her perform with her band before February of this year. Since then, I've made it out to as many Lowlight shows as I could. I've also regretted every one I've missed.
I asked Renee if she and the band would like to contribute a list to our year-end round-up here, and she agreed. After some consultation with bandmates Dana Sellers, Derril Sellers, Colin Ryan, and Rey Rivera, Renee got me Lowlight's favorite albums list just under the wire.
Check out their thoughts on 2015 below; and, if you get the chance to check Lowlight out at a show, don't blow it.
Our Favorite Albums of 2015
by Lowlight
Renee from Lowlight here! CoolDad asked us if we could come up with a year-end list of sorts for 2015. So here are our five favorite records of the year, accompanied by some smart and thoughtful commentary. Please enjoy.
Father John Misty, I Love You, Honeybear
In its own weird little way, I Love You, Honeybear was one of the most challenging records on my radar this year. It's also my favorite. The best way I can describe this album is "dense." The production is lush and cinematic, filled with strings, horns, and electronics. Lying like a canopy over that jungle of instrumentation is a barrage of lyrics that are as brilliant as they are cutting. Almost every line Joshua Tillman sings is filled with wit. And just when you're getting the joke, there's an amazing new one-liner coming at you and now you're two steps behind. But for all of the sarcastic cynicism rampant in this record, there's also a fierce underlying sense of love and humanity. If you've put this album on and thought, "I don't think I like this," give it about fifteen more listens and then see where you stand with it.
Ryan Adams, 1989
I'll preface this with saying that I'm am not a Taylor Swift fan. There's something about her saccharine delivery, the super slick production, and the overall sheen of mega pop girliness that makes me want to gather up all the Barbie dolls in the world and burn them at a beach bonfire. The sight of synthetic blond hair follicles curling dark into the flames, while tiny fabricated smiles melt into grotesque frowns. The smell of burning plastic wafting through the air, filling the nostrils of creeped out summer tourists who are wondering what the hell is wrong with me. So when I heard that Ryan Adams released an album covering Taylor Swift's 1989, I ignored it at best. At worst, I wrote it off as "pandering." And then, one day, I actually fucking listened to the thing. To my pleasant surprise, it is a really, really great record. By stripping out the production luster that is the "Top 40" sound of a Taylor Swift track, Adams made me realize that what you're left with is undeniably great songwriting. You also get a much better sense of how sad and messed up some of the protagonists in Swift’s songs actually are. In addition, this record is a testament to Ryan Adams's vision of these songs, and his craft in general. He's always been able to write a pop song that doesn't feel like it's trying too hard. Applied here, these songs take on that easiness, as well as his particular brand of raw emotional depth that elevates them even further. Thanks, Ryan. You did it.
Phosphorescent, Live At Music Hall
Full disclosure: I attended some of the shows that this album was compiled from, so this record’s being in the "favorites" list might somewhat come from a sense of my own nostalgia. However, I will go ahead and say that Phosphorescent is the best band that New Jersey has never heard of. They are a Brooklyn staple though, and I've been fortunate enough to have seen Matthew Houck and his group many times now. Phosphorescent live shows are always fantastic. They are a mix of the quiet coolness of Houck as a front man, paired with a Hard Rain-esque energy that is not always captured on their studio albums. Thankfully, when Phosphorescent did a 5-show run at Music Hall of Williamsburg a few years ago, somebody managed to press the "record" button. This year, they decided to compile some of the best moments from those shows and put out a record. It's an honest record, too. The live-show fuck-ups are right in there alongside the moments of pure magic that can never be conjured up amongst a click track and a pair of headphones. If you're new to Phosphorescent, this is not a bad place to start. And if they're swinging through a city near you, don't stay home.
Houndmouth, Little Neon Limelight
I discovered Houndmouth a little while ago and got hung up on a song of theirs called "Casino (Bad Things)," a song soaked in boozy, loner, degenerate glory that reminded me of nights spent wandering around Atlantic City, getting into trouble. Houndmouth's new record picks up these themes right where they left off. Little Neon Limelight is pure raucous energy and youthful defiance, even in its quiet moments. The music itself is endlessly fun, begging for a boisterous sing-and-dance-along. The lyrics, though, hover in a darker place, dealing with heartbreak, loss, and reckless abandon. There's also a dash of American history peppered about as well, which is a nice touch. Little Neon Limelight is an American soundtrack for those who have chosen to live the wild life, knowing full well what kind of line they are walking and exactly where it may lead. "Gasoline, it don't burn as fast as me, poor boy / Maybe I'll meet my maker on a bedroom floor."
Bob Dylan, Shadows in the Night
After several records of Bob Dylan sounding as much like a crazy, raspy, dirty old man as he could possibly muster, it's both surprising and telling that his delivery on his most recent record, Shadows in the Night, is relatively smooth and deliberate. However, Bob Dylan is still no Frank Sinatra, and his vocals leave the album resting in a weird, unsettled space. I have gone back and forth between believing it's purely a genuine attempt at the "The Great American Songbook" by a guy who has written far better cuts than anything in there, or that there’s an intentional edge to it. Either way, it’s definitely one of the more interesting records to be released this year, and one that has gently floated from my speakers into the night over and over again since its release last February. Also, let's not forget the weirdest Late Night Television performance of the year. Dylan on Letterman was one for the books. Mark it, Dude. Another fascinating year for Bob Dylan and his legion of fans.
That about wraps 'er up. Thanks again to our bud CoolDad, cheers to another crazy year!
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