Albums Of The Year So Far 2018: In Association With Norman Records
John Doran
, July 30th, 2018 14:14
Here is our albums of the year so far chart. It’ll make you laugh. It’ll make you cry. It’ll change your life. Probably all three at once if you listen to Andrew Liles’ 25-hour-long Colossus Part One album (in at No. 100) while on LSD
Today's chart marks the tenth anniversary of me compiling these unwieldy inventories of innovation and sonic madness. The amount of time every single year I spend sitting on my arse listening to albums that we may have missed, trying to remember what the fearsomely complex tQ voting system actually is, then polling, compiling and building these things is utterly insane. As Oscar Wilde himself would have pointed out: the task makes my ears thank me and my hoop curse me in equal measures.
And if we're in the tenth year of these charts, we must also be due to celebrate our first decade in existence. We were born in something of a chaotic blur, but we think our birthday is in the first week in September. Because of this looming date, I've been thinking about the creation story of the Quietus a lot recently. This process of looking back has loosened up a rattlebag of different emotions, as you'd expect; most of them are positive but they include sheer incredulity that we managed to last more than six months. We didn't really know what we were doing at first, the survival rate of new websites was abysmal then, with most failing within the two months, plus we ignored all the advice doled out to us by net-savvy colleagues.
While I can't speak for Luke, I should also add to this list the fact that my reasons for wanting to launch a magazine were less than noble. In fact my primary motivation was, as it was for all things back then, to facilitate heavy drinking every single day from mid-afternoon onwards. I certainly didn't realise that this website was going to create a framework strong enough for me to quit the peach schnapps for good. I had no intention of stopping drinking until I died, and if I'd realised The Quietus was going to have anything to do with me sobering up I would have abandoned it at the drawing board stage and then kicked the drawing board down a mineshaft as an extra precaution.
But change can and does happen very quickly when it's important enough. I gave up drinking a matter of weeks after we launched and suddenly found myself realising what an incredible opportunity I'd ended up with. One that I arguably didn't deserve but an opportunity nonetheless, and one I realised I didn't want to waste. Barring illness, accident and paternity leave, I've been working solidly on the site ever since. What started off as a bit of a doss quite quickly became the framework that saved my life.
In about 14 days time, touch wood, I'll be collecting my ten year chip at AA, and do you know what? You owe me exactly the same you owed me a decade ago: absolutely nothing. It's not your job to pay for my substitute 12-step programme. I'm the one who should be thanking you for reading the bloody thing. But all of this reflection has got me thinking about just how dynamic the process has been and how change is always on the cards even if it doesn't seem likely.
If anyone had suggested that people put their hands in their pockets for this or any other music site a decade ago, I would have found it risible. The field was very crowded, then; not so much anymore. Countless magazines and websites have disappeared over the past decade. Some titles have gone through rebrand after rebrand, trying to find a new demographic to present to ever more finickity advertisers tempted away by Facebook; proudly independent institutions have compromised their independence a little too much. And it's all totally understandable because it has become untenable to run a fully independent digital magazine of this size and volume of work on banner advertising alone.
Everything has changed over the last ten years and that's why I'm confident of saying something I simply wouldn't have believed back then: you'd miss us if we weren't here.
That's a nice bit of rhetoric, but you can test it if you like. Tonight, or this weekend, or whenever you have a few hours spare, go through this top 100 and if you discover something you really love maybe consider donating some money to us. And if you already donate money to us maybe consider increasing it by a quid or two a month. And the best place to contribute is right HERE.
If you're on the dole, if you're a skint student, if you're low waged or even just a bit strapped for cash, this doesn't apply to you. Most people go through periods of being skint - we're just talking about people who work full-time and use the site on a regular basis.
We were hoping to have a new website to present to you in October but that's unfortunately not likely to happen for the time being. However - dear reader! - we know you're not with us for such frivolities as a sign-in function that actually works or automatic optimisation for mobile phones but instead you obviously value us for the kind of cultural coverage you're not getting elsewhere, right?! We'll settle for just being here to celebrate our eleventh birthday with you next year, and I'd like to say a heartfelt thanks to you if you can help us keep that date.
This top 100 was voted for by Paddy Clarke, Christian Eede, Luke Turner, Anna Wood and myself from albums released between 1 January and 30 June this year, with some excellent guidance from Tristan Bath, Cheryl Carter, Noel Gardner, Tara Joshi, JR Moores, Stewart Smith and Kez Whelan. This year we've included a smattering of EPs, compilations and reissues, simply because they were of such a high quality that to exclude them would have been barbarous. I compiled this utter bastard during a very long period that I should have spent lying in a bathtub full of ice cubes, but let the record show that the coding was done by Luke, Anna, Christian and Paddy based on clever sheets set up by Seb White.
100. Andrew Liles -
Colossus
(self-released)
99. Daniel Carter, William Parker And Matthew Shipp -
We enter the world of Omegaville at breakneck speed. This massive, conceptual double album does not begin with any grand overture or introduction – Anthroprophh require no scene setting. There is no pause, no time to gather your senses, just layer after layer of pummelling and freewheeling guitars – hectic squalls caterwauling over churning riffs, the momentum constantly searing upwards.
Hilja is an album that takes time to reveal itself, at first appearing inaccessible, strange or disorganised. Given space though, and without the expectation of constant stimulation, Cucina Povera has put together a collection that rewards you for listening carefully.
Across 12 cuts that mostly occupy the 170 BPM territory, the duo fold in flashes of rave, hardcore and dark jungle on tracks like opener 'Genetic Manipulation', 'Steppah' and 'This Generation' which is punctuated by what sounds like a sample of child reggae group Musical Youth.
The whole experience is charmingly woah-dude in a way that never feels caricatured or insincere. Great pleasure is taken in employing the familiar apparatus and codes of psychedelia and, well, making them psychedelic again.
Legend has it that Kadhja Bonet was born in 1784, in the back seat of an intergalactic seafoam-green Ford Pinto. Her glittering, celestial debut The Visitor can certainly be taken as evidence for this claim. Now, the Los Angeles multi-instrumentalist returns with Childqueen, which retains stylistic elements of that debut but packs a groovier, struttier punch.
Colin Newman (Wire) and Malka Spigel (Minimal Compact) revive their Immersion project for an excellent, understated album. While at first listen this owes a debt to the German experimentalists of the mid-70s, Sleepless is no metronome, stuck on motorik pastiche. Instead, it’s a record of beguiling and playful moods, melodious, warm and satisfying as watching the sun sink behind an ocean horizon, a murmuration in the skies overhead.
The Bristol-based Timedance imprint has become a reliable source of forward-thinking, bass-driven UK techno in recent years via releases from producers such as Bruce, Ploy and founder Batu. While the latter's music might not feature on the label's first LP, a various artists compilation, Patina Echoes opens Timedance up to a new school of producers, many from beyond the UK. All of whom carry a distinct ear for pristine sound design producing club music that pushes at conventions while maintaining one foot firmly on the dancefloor.
The Düsseldorf duo celebrate 25 years in the game with their 11th album. It's completely satisfying, occasionally thrilling, and their best work in a decade.
Where their original project Crossbred sees the pair explore more noise-based territory, as Synth Sisters they favour gorgeous, rippling melodies, MAYUKo handling synths while Rie Lambdoll takes on electric piano, synth and vocal duties - most notably captured on this record's arresting opener 'w/o/n/d/e/r/f/u/l'.
Leyland Kirby's outstanding ongoing project exploring 'dementia, its advance and its totality' enters its fourth stage. Each addition mirrors the progress of the disease, and as the first 'post-awareness' phase Stage IV characterised by elusive fragments of old melodies and the beginnings of total abstraction.
The album's last three tracks touch on jungle and footwork, though shot through with the ornate weirdness that runs through the record, particularly in the hollering vocal samples of standout closer 'Are You Still Hurt'.
This is surely one of the hardest sounding records you'll hear in 2018 – intensely precise grind-into-powerviolence with tons of bottom end, its vocals, guitar/bass and (albeit programmed) drums tilting towards Converge, Nails and Napalm Death respectively.
At over two-and-a-half hours, Heaven & Earth is a demanding experience - such is its depth and scope that one suspects that it's going to take a while for the true meaning and achievement to properly sink in. But for now, this is an album that thrills, confuses, delights and overwhelms.
Overseeing a cast of collaborators that includes Micachu, Rupert Clervaux and Cam Deas, Ben Vince pulls proceedings together on Assimilation via his stunning saxophone arrangements. It's a set-up which sees him thrive off the contributions of his co-conspirators, from the sleazy skronk of opener 'Alive & Ready', which features the shapeshifting vocals of Merlin Nova, to the more minimal, lithe territory of the Micachu-featuring 'What I Can See'.
Compro, Skee Mask's second album, sees the producer push out beyond the breakbeat and techno-driven experimentations of his debut LP, folding in a wider variety of tempos in the process. Ambient cuts, usually relegated to secondary status on numerous 'dance music' LPs, in the form of opener 'Cerroverb' and 'VLI' offer a vital counterpoint to the breakbeat science of jungle tracks such as 'Soundboy Ext.' and 'Kozmic Flush'. Melody has long been one of the producer's strong points - both as Skee Mask and in his SCNTST moniker - and Compro sees him continue to shine.
30. 700 Bliss -
Spa 700
(Halcyon Veil)
DJ Haram's serrated productions deftly compliment Moor Mother's unique flow, their sharp edges and concussive beats made somehow more brutal by melodic, sometimes delicate touches fostered by Haram's keen ear for detail.
Invasion of Privacy finds a rapper in her prime, cleverly shaping her own stardom and - hopefully - carving out a path that continues to usher female MCs into the mainstream. Shamelessly sexual, caustically comic and with breathtaking flow, Cardi B stands proud as one of trap's finest.
There's a delicious oiliness to its clippering power, like some sweating mountain of an outback sheep shearer on his 300th fleece of the day. The album ends with three tracks 'Smut', 'The Whip Hand' and 'Submit.Breathe' which, though I can see some criticising them for their overt sexuality, do rather fit the bill, all strained seams, air thick with sweat, bruises that stir up breathless memories even as they fade.
It's a record of simple beauty, exploring the place where electronic and classical music cohabit, and inspired by Cooper's childhood home of Orkney and bird-watching expeditions with his father. Via strings, piano and ambient guitar, Solan Goose pulses with Orcadian spirit. Magnificently barren seascapes, Norse mythology, Neolithic history and the poetry of George Mackay Brown gush forth from the songs, each titled after a bird of Orkney.
Oil of Every Pearl's Un-Insides, the follow-up to 2015's Product, is SOPHIE's latest stride towards whatever frenetic musical techno-future it is that she envisions, and the latest demonstration of her language: a vernacular of pounding kicks, human voices processed into oblivion, uncomfortable squishing noises, revving engines and clattering metal.
Even before you press play this record wins best track titles of 2018 - 'Aktion Toilet', 'Butt Muscle' and 'Welcum My Lord' all feature. The music matches this mucky endeavour, a rich and ribald album of electro rap muck that's like an updated take on early Peaches.
“The album title was intended as ironic at first,” says Michael Kasparis. “But as the writing process went on the album began to feel more playful, I was finding revelatory threads in it I hadn't intended. Choose Life became an imperative.”
Gaelic Psalms From The Hebrides Of Scotland Volume One
(Arc Light Editions)
Each verse is led by a precentor, who chooses a tune and leads the congregation with a couple of bars. Then everyone joins in, and a ragged and beautiful sound swells through the tiny chapel. The style of singing is known as free heterophony, with the group singing together but as individuals. Each sings at their own pitch and speed, in their own style. The result is unfiltered and unpolished, and it packs an astonishing emotional punch.
The Long Sleep opens like a jazzy, frazzled sunrise, a slow and very beautiful dawn with the musicians Hval has brought in - on piano, trumpet and saxophone - helping to create something wholesome and a bit Aaron Copland-ish, as if the day and the musicians are warming up, stretching out. The Long Sleep seems to begin with an awakening.
This is the Kali Uchis we fell in love with in her music video for 'Loner' two years ago: lips puckered, highlighter sparkling, and bubblegum American drive-in station, a purple silk-sheeted motel room. The luxury is fascinating, and the various feather-tipped sparkly disguises mixed in with her mysterious lyrics and smoky vocals.
This is a young album, too: an antidote to all the articles about house prices, feckless millennials or smashed avocados on sourdough. This is just a document of being young and uncertain and trying not to be a wanker and trying to have a good time in a city which makes all of those things extremely difficult.
The Armed from Detroit, MI, have introduced new rupturing new dynamics into the realm of what might loosely be termed hardcore, managing to be both more melodic, more noisy and more inventive than nearly anyone else doing the rounds at the moment.
16. Sons Of Kemet -
Your Queen Is A Reptile
(Impulse)
By celebrating great black women across history, by crowning Angela Davis, Harriet Tubman, Albertina Sisulu and Doreen Lawrence, Sons Of Kemet begin a new myth-making and bring afrofuturism down to earth with a beautiful bang.
'Squeeze' melds a screwface-inducing bassline with a beat that wouldn't have sounded out of place on a classic Ruff Sqwad mixtape, while closer 'Overall' comes across like a skewed take on the UK techno of labels like Livity Sound and Timedance with its starry synths and swung drums. Unfold is Lázár's most complete work to date pushing his glitch-ridden experimentations into considerably more 4x4 territory than before.
"One of the things I've always used as a tool in life and music is the adage that you are what you eat," he says. “Every time I step up to do a new project, I identify certain sounds or ideas that I'd like to see present in whatever I'm working on. Then I just consume them regularly. These are some of the things that have meant something to me along the way."
So, just when is a metal band not a metal band? Despite shedding metal's generic trappings almost completely, The Body have created some of the heaviest and most intense music we've heard this year, a devastating multi-faceted gut-punch of a record that asks you to come face to face your most primordial, deep-seated fears, acknowledge and accept your failings and emerge from the experience a stronger person. And if that's not metal, then frankly, we don't know what is.
This music strikes me as yet more evidence of an enviable heads-down industriousness and, in fact, what is most surprising is not exactly how modern or old but how a-temporal most of these tracks sound tonally, given that it is a (mainly) analogue project. If there is a narrative to this record, it's more of a personal one given that Peter Christopherson died just a few months into the project's time span. The pair, recently reunited by TG/X-TG, had been discussing Carter's circuit-building experiments when Christopherson passed, causing the project to be shelved for some time. Carter has since talked about the album in terms of coping with his grief.
As you would imagine, this level of almost berserk creative restlessness is matched by a constant adjustment in sound and process. Which might leads you to ask the very sensible question: do I need to wear a crash helmet when listening to Chapel Perilous? Where is God's great golden shovel? Being swung with great force straight at my noggin or hanging neatly from its peg back in the Arcadian potting shed? The answer is: both.
The last track, 'Breathing', is preceded by a field recording of a coal train – a moment of earthliness and a testament to the album being recorded in Wyoming. 'Birthday Song', the album's melancholic centrepiece, brings enchanted whispers and dwells on the same note. 'Breathing', that closing song, is sensual music in its most delicate form. Every track on Grid Of Points is captivating.
As well as the usual pulverising industrial textures, Nine Inch Nails' ninth (and shortest) LP sees Trent Reznor & co piling together a refreshing and enticingly bewildering array of styles, from the muttering and breakbeat of 'Ahead Of Ourselves' to unexpected and excellent sax interludes in 'Play The Goddamn Part'. The pretty hate machine clearly still has plenty of gas in the tank.
A Laughing Death In Meatspace is by no means easy listening: the playing is off-kilter, strange bursts of noise erupt from instruments, songs dissolve into a maelstrom of noises; the production, mixing and mastering bear traces of the album's speedy composition and release; and the lyrics invite us to contemplate, without histrionics or self-deception, precisely how fucked we all are. It's hot with anger and full of ugly truths about the ways we live our lives; and the effect is compelling.
On their majestic raging debut of banshee-punk-funk with extra gobshite gravy, ILL take 'You go, girl!' and turn it into 'FUCK YOU', 'FUCK THE PATRIARCHY' and 'FUCK THE FUCKING TORIES'
Le Guin and Barton create a whole other world and they are inside it rather than outside looking in. And they invite us in, not even needing to invite us really because they know this world they've made is ours as much as theirs. There's no Other here, we are all It.
This is a world away from the academia-drenched faction of the avant-garde. Slowly Paradise beguiles, seduces, transports the listener; Chenaux's care and respect for us is clear. "I'm not interested in what musicians do, I'm interested in what listeners do,” he has said. “That's where the music happens. A musician in and of himself or herself isn't necessarily psychedelic. But the way a person listens can be incredibly psychedelic."
Dirty Computer succeeds at what it came to do - it's here to make you think, and it's here to make you dance. It is the most clearly delivered result of Monáe's vision so far - the android rebirthed from the fire as a queer phoenix.
An album of extremely tactile, kinaesthetic techno that has a resilient mystery and the potential to excite and disturb the senses. Underneath the brute materialism of the domineering kick and industrial outhouse aesthetics, there are moments of deftness, such as on the closing track 'Nims', where the music slowly rises past the hardened structures as a soft drone glides on the thermals and modular chirrups sound out overhead. It's a fitting climax to an album that has Blawan back and showing us why he matters to us techno heads.
On their second album for Strut, the San Francisco bandleader and his Pyramids tackle injustice, brutality and global destruction - and give us a sweet glimpse of redemption
Can Saul Adamczewski and his new band create beautiful pop songs from paedophilia, premature death and racist imperialism? Why yes, they can. All it takes is faith in humanity and a little bit of genius
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