5. THE XCERTS: In the Cold Wind We Smile
What is it about Scotland, huh? How is it that a country with such high unemployment, such significant levels of crime and such a growing need for regeneration (wander past the revitalised city centres of Edinburgh and Glasgow and you'll quickly find yourself bombarded with boarded-up windows and destitute souls) continues to produce some of the greatest music your ears are ever likely to hear? Its barren, bitter landscapes have given us the criminally underrated Idlewild, the enigmatic Biffy Clyro, the gargantuan Sucioperro and the evocativce Glasvegas, as well as some of the year's most promising upstarts in these whipper-snappers, Aberdeen's quite unbelievably teenage Xcerts. Surely there must be something in the water? (Let's just forget that Texas ever happened, shall we?) 'In the Cold Wind We Smile' is a surprisingly assured release from such young minds. Its lyrics are thankfully bereft of the usual hyperbole that typify teenage writing, and the musical accompaniment is a glorious mix of the best elements of the original emo bands (Get Up Kids, Sunny Day Real Estate, Saves the Day) and output from various contemporary Scottish acts (Biffy, Jetpacks et al.) It's an expressive, cathartic piece with a massive heart and a tonne of ambition. Domestic strife never sounded so thrilling.
4. MANIC STREET PREACHERS: Journal For Plague Lovers
It seems almost clichéd to suggest it, and doubtless there will be those who claim that it’s just a load of smoke being blown further up the arse of a man who has practically achieved God-like status in the fourteen years since his disappearance, but fuck me, ‘Journal for Plague lovers’ is fantastic. Somehow, some way, James Dean Bradfield, Nicky Wire and Sean Moore have done their lost friend all the justice they could, and then some. The music matches the lyrics so wonderfully, evoking exactly what the oft-beguiling words seem to suggest, that it appears almost effortless, as if they were intrinsically aware of what was needed without having to consciously think about it, like the interpretation just tumbled out of them, ready made and bloody marvellous. ‘Journal’ works both as a testament to a hugely talented man and as a thrill-packed rock record, full of beautiful melodies, gorgeous guitar wizardry and air-punching intensity. At times, it feels prudent to cast aside all thoughts of Richey altogether; as Christian Bale says in the first ten seconds of the album, ‘we know so little about [him]’, after all. But it doesn’t matter; Manic Street Preachers have made a record that surpasses these concerns, cutting past the distractions in trying to seem authentic and simply allowing the words to stand on their own. It's got the album sleeve of the year too...
3. WE WERE PROMISED JETPACKS: These Four Walls
As well has having probably the coolest name on the planet, Glasgow’s We Were Promised Jetpacks make one hell of a fantastic racket. ‘These Four Walls’ sounds absolutely monumental, a towering inferno of cacophonous instrument rape built on a penchant for the most intense sort of crescendo known to man. Virtually all of the album’s eleven tracks are addictively restless, starting out quiet but curiously sporadic, goading the listener into keeping a spasmodic sort of time when there is none being kept within the song. This lends a raw flavour to the music, augmented by a smattering of jagged, scattershot guitars and unusual timbre, upon which the band add layer after layer of sound with each passing minute, before finally reaching a sort of cathartic apex; the auditory orgasm, if you will. It’s the same tactic that’s allowed The Arcade Fire to become such critical stalwarts, except enhanced tenfold by the sheer bombast of the noise that the band make. They’re more like a comprehendible Die! Die! Die! or pretenders to Biffy Clyro’s throne, using the less radio-friendly song structures of their earlier material. ‘These Four Walls’ is an absolute gem, a record dripping with visceral delights that demand you return again and again, seeking the same thrills but all the while discovering spectacular new ones. It claws its way out of its own four walls, restlessly hammering at your eardrums until you just can’t help but fall hopelessly in love with it. You can have your jetpacks guys; we’ll take your music.
2. BRAND NEW: Daisy
‘Daisy’ is a miserably aggressive horror show of a record that trawls the darkest depths of the human psyche, exploring a world of desperation, loss and emotional catastrophe. Play this beast at a party and your guests are likely to start bashing each others’ brains in with the furniture. The album takes the misery and hopelessness of 2006’s astounding ‘The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me’ and reimagines it through musical cacophony; ‘heavy’ doesn’t even begin to describe the raw, distorted guitars and abrasive, crashing drums that pound at your earlobes throughout. This is less the sound of the defeated and more the sound of the disgusted: instruments are assaulted rather than played, and Jesse screams like Frank Carter’s demented second cousin twice removed over most of the tracks, obliterating any semblance of melody. It sounds like a horrific listening experience but actually, it’s quite the opposite. Like a good car crash, you just can’t help but be fascinated by ‘Daisy’; to want to stare, self-destructively, at its twisted, repugnant carcass. This is an album that demands multiple listens, that won’t escape from your CD player for months, no matter how much you may want it to. It’s another almighty swerve from a band that just won’t sit still, that refuse to be what everyone wants them to be, and for that, they should be applauded. Fuck partying guys, let’s smash shit up.
1. MANCHESTER ORCHESTRA: Mean Everything To Nothing
There’s something of a buzz surrounding Manchester Orchestra; following 2006’s impressively mature debut, ‘I’m like a Virgin Losing a Child’, the Georgia five-piece have become critical dahlings, and for once, it’s wholly justified. With ‘Mean Everything to Nothing’, the band have produced their magnum opus, a superlative distillation of their quintessentially bleak, yet unquestionably anthemic, sound. At times, it's a difficult listen; its despondency is initially unwelcoming and takes some time to truly appreciate, but, as with all good things, perseverance pays dividends. The album harnesses the kind of emotional gravitas and packs the same incredibly stomach-churning punch as tour mates Brand New’s phenomenal ‘The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me’ and that really is no small feat. Manchester Orchestra splatter heart, soul, blood and guts all over this record, giving you everything they’ve got, and for that, they should mean everything to everyone. An undisputed classic.
Well, there you go. Another year, another laundry list of wonderful records. Hope you enjoyed this rundown and feel free to point out any shocking omissions in the comments.
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