Albums of the year

There's quite a few things that carry the lofty label of a “soundtrack to life”, often with an attitude far too flippant for such a beautiful, all-encompassing idea. So is it the birdsong on a winter’s morn? Is it the sound of the M5 from the Lickey Hills? Is it the Sound of Music DVD played on repeat from your ailing grandmother’s old TV set?

Basically, what I’m trying to say is that it’s statistically unlikely that the "soundtrack to life" is any one of the seven albums that I’m about to list; but for better or worse, they were the ones that I got caught up in this year. I’m going to try and explain exactly why these albums got my attention and why they should get yours too. But I will not even countenance that they might be the soundtrack to anyone’s life, even my own; for pete’s sake, one of these is by Radiohead. Leave it. So, without further ado, in no particular order:

1. Thunder, Lightning, Strike by The Go! Team

People still talk about The Go! Team. In fact, I would even venture to suggest that they may still be a band, which is good, generally. But their seminal LP (which is wanker for “Long Play”) is one that I really grew to appreciate this year. If I remember it right, Ladyflash (the most memorable single on this one) came at me out of someone else’s Spotify playlist, and just got stuck. But maybe “stuck” is the wrong turn of phrase; the music of The Go! Team isn’t necessarily good because it’s got its fair share of earworms – though it does have those. Instead, the properly remarkable thing about this album is the beautifully lo-fi production. Apparently quite a lot of it was recorded in a kitchen, which in this singular instance is a all-too-potentially condescending compliment. Of course, the team(!) have come a long way since this album was released in 2004 and probably have bigger kitchens to record in, which are called “recording studios” in the biz. Nevertheless, it’s this jazzy, ever-so-unique blend of rocky hooks, poppy rhythms and soul samples from nowhere that will stay with me. Junior Kickstart is particularly anthemic. Equally, 2004 WAS FIFTEEN YEARS AGO AND ONE DAY WE WILL ALL DIE.

2. Gallipoli by Beirut

This album actually came out in 2019, which is me trying to stay vaguely relevant in my life as a fading post-adolescent. I’ve liked Beirut for a very long time and I even liked them during their difficult phase between albums 3 and 4 where it seems like things were getting too simple to the point that multiple bangers from album 3 used exactly the same chord progression. But Zach Condon always brings the trumpets! And when he performs live one of the other guys uses a fish as a percussive instrument. Note that it is not a live fish because I don’t like bands to contradict my staunch vegetarianism; I think the fish is probably made of polished wood, maybe oak or teak or a fortified bamboo hybrid, which, incidentally, is what Elon Musk calls pandas.

And wow! Family Curse. Listen to it. It epitomises what is good about Beirut now. They might lack some of the more worldly, plaintive hooks from their first record but in terms of almost orchestral horn combos, there is no better. Beirut is gap year chic in album form, increasingly Americanised yet somehow always pining for the faraway lands that Condon once escaped to. He’s a fan of France, this boy. Once wrote a song called Napoleon on the Bellerophon, which I also really like. It is hard to learn about Napoleon if you come from somewhere funky in New Mexico, but this Condon’s come far. He also looks a touch like Tim Key, on whom I am increasingly dependent for a laugh and don’t you forget it.

3. Viva La Vida (Prospekt’s March Edition) by Coldplay

I know what you’re thinking – in all likelihood, something with expletives, barrelling condescension or just sheer multi-storey incomprehension. But bear with; this album is quite okay, good even. And one of the most impressive things about it is that quite a lot of the deep cuts (which is wanker for “songs that weren’t as popular and usually get left towards the back end of the LP” (which, if you recall, is wanker for “Long Play”, which is dilettante for “album”)), anyway, there’s no point in continuing from before the brackets because that was quite long, so, basically, the songs towards the tail-end of this album are actually very interesting. There’s Yes! which features Chris Martin’s deepest vocals and a bunch of art-rock-y strings. There’s Glass of Water, which has power chords coming out of its wazzoo. And there’s Strawberry Swing, which I think is stupid and I will never forgive for ruining this album of otherwise perfectly listenable rocky choons. What, in the name of Bono, is a bleeding swing made of STRAWBERRIES doing in an album that has an entire song – Violet Hill – dobbing in the Iraq War? It comes right after that song, of all places to chuck your musical slop! Did Coldplay just blow through all their poignance after track 8? It clearly didn’t return for any of their following albums. Orphans? Well, I suppose that’s what Coldplay are, musically speaking (I am implying that they are cack).

4. Ribbons by Bibio

This album is nostalgic as all hell. It reminds me of summers’ days and unplaceable, wavering tree branches out in the country. It reminds me of Scarborough Fair but then I remember that Scarborough isn’t actually that fair and then I feel sorry for Bibio because he, like Scarborough, is from Yorkshire. My jury is also out on his haircut. But the man makes music like there’s no tomorrow, because most of it carries a slow, sneaking nostalgia created through lo--fi noise and instrumental “choices”. Which is to say I think there is ukulele in this album. But what I particularly enjoyed about Ribbons – beyond ear-catching melodies such as those on Wren Tails and Curls – is how the album slowly dives into the dark from track to track. By the end, Bibio has collapsed back into the familiar ambient sounds more common on his previous album Phantom Brickworks, and he has left Simon and Garfunkel in the dust of said bricks without a second thought. So the album is nostalgic yet melancholic, uplifting yet distressing all in one. It folds over like ribbons do, obscuring an image that Bibio leaves us to peer at through his beautifully, painstakingly constructed veneer of gentle English melody. Go on then, maybe Scarborough’s actually okay.

5. Somersault by Beach Fossils

I discovered this band more or less off the back of Mac Demarco, which is probably a pretty smooth back judging by the music he writes. Beach Fossils are responsible for a similar brand of “shoegaze” indie that takes lo-fi sounds and combines them with slightly obscured vocals and interesting, more-backwards-than-forwards instrumentation. They sound, for better or worse, like Mac Demarco with slightly more guitars. I have always particularly enjoyed Social Jetlag, even if the lyrics can’t cash the interesting emotional check of the song title. Somersault hearkens back to a time when everything was a touch brighter, challenging us to be better, with a dreamy, Americana flavour. It appeals to me because musically it aligns perfectly with the gentrifying hipster themes that I try not to empathise with, but secretly love to bits. Come to the UK lads, we’ll shower you in gratitude from our unaffordable flatshares.

6. All the singles Little Comets have come out with recently

Not an album, I know – this list is gently falling apart, like a Lion bar that’s just been snapped in half, or my life. But I’d wager that most if not all of the ditties Little Comets have come out with this year will be appearing on their forthcoming LP (which is wanker for “Long Play”, I know attention spans are faltering so I like to presume the worst). And frankly, they’re all excellent; The Punk Is In the Detail rhymes “Polski Sklep” with “step” and 3 Minute Faltz considers that “toxic masculinity is now a fragrance on aisle three”. Rob Coles, the lead, is a maestro when it comes to “geo+poetry”. There is so much I love about this band, so much I’ve always loved. The ability to throw politics into songs without it feeling like shoehorning; the pensive, sensitive attitude on and off the record; the subtle twang from south of the Tyne. I am one of those fake Northerners. But Little Comets make me feel a touch more like a real one, because I lament much the same things that they do. And, without turning to self-indulgence, I saw them live this year and loved the experience to bits. So it’s a pity I’m reporting on a selection of singles and not a full album – but that’s just one more thing to look forward to in 2020. It’s not quite Stormzy’s cathartic, expletive refrain on Boris, but Little Comets are my favourite subtly political band – plus, they’re equally as good when they’re just talking about love and loss. They also write lovely, thoughtful lyric blogs about their songs.

7. In Rainbows by Radiohead

When I found this one in the Crouch End Oxfam, I didn’t necessarily think I’d end up with a soft spot for it. Built on the strength of a misremembered favourite from a friend, I at least figured I’d like this zany yet profound piece by the public school boys who brought you Creep and Burn The Witch and everything in between. But this ended up being the only Radiohead album that I was prepared – excited, even – to listen to in full, at the tapered middle of a discography I’d perennially punctuated with interest and disinterest alike. I was introduced to it by Spotify a while back through its biggest single – Weird Fishes / Arpeggi, which is broadly indicative of the album’s style on the whole. It’s slightly messy and it wears a complex face but it’s properly put together, like a gorgeous gestalt. Every song is beautifully different and equally exciting, like Viva La Vida but actually a bit interesting. In terms of albums that you’d listen to in full, In Rainbows is perfect. Each song sets its own pace and finds its (jigsaw falling into) place. It’s a sweep of ups and downs, like a trippy sine wave of groovy hooks. Thom Yorke’s winge-y vocals were made for an album like this, consistently melancholic but thematically detailed and emotionally cocked, locked and loaded (okay, maybe not cocked). Total disclosure: I love this album. Like, passionate love. But it’s quite hard to consider a CD sleeve sex-wise. I have ruined the moment. Sorry.

Still, I honestly hope that this recollection has given you cause to think about the albums that affected you this year: the ones you shared with others, the ones that remind you of special moments, or just the ones from that show you binge watched by accident. In any case, I’d like to think this exercise can do one better than Spotify’s calculated yearly assumption of our musical habits. And while there’s no such thing as a universal soundtrack to life, I sincerely believe that everyone experiences a degree of musical association, be it sheer and upbeat or resoundingly melancholic. Either is good; music is built to connect us with our experiences, after all.