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Dylan Peterson writesCHIRP Radio Best of 2016: Dylan Peterson
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Throughout December, CHIRP Radio presents its volunteers’ top albums of 2016. Our first list is from DJ and Features Director Dylan Peterson. This was the longest year of my life. |
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#1 Blonde by Frank Ocean (Boys Don't Cry) And if we spend enough time with it, we will not only hear what Frank has to say, we’ll feel his arm around our shoulder, and we. Will. Feel it. The first few times I listened to Blonde it was almost like hearing ambient music, resounding a blatant disinterest in conventional song structure. Until, like a revelation, one line hits. And boy does it hit. For me it was “It’s hell on earth, and the city’s on fire.” Suddenly, the album isn’t ambient at all. It’s clear and sharp, and every moment and breath becomes vital. “Self Control” hits, then “Ivy,” then “White Ferrari,” and before you know it you’re listening to this album on repeat five times in a row, and waking up and immediately putting it on, and remembering a lyric as you walk up to the door of your apartment and getting choked up from just THINKING about it. Frank Ocean shared himself on a profoundly intimate level, but on a condition. Without taking time for empathy, this album will fall upon deaf ears. But if we can allow ourselves the opportunity to care enough about a queer, black, American man’s art, I’m telling you right now with tears in my eyes, the feel will be real. |
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#2 Psychopomp by Japanese Breakfast (Yellow K) |
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#3 Roosevelt by Roosevelt (Greco-Roman) |
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#4 Pool by Porches (Domino) |
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#5 Light Upon the Lake by Whitney (Secretly Canadian) |
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#6 Never Going Home EP by Hazel English (Marathon Artists) |
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#7 Care by How To Dress Well (Domino) |
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#8 Oh No by Jessy Lanza (Hyperdub) |
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#9 Upsweep by Hannah Epperson (Listenrecords) |
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#10 Testarossa by Yoni & Geti (Joyful Noise) |
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Honorable Mentions All the insanely great Chicago hip-hop albums and mixtapes that came out this year: Noname, Brian Fresco, Chance, Kanye, Ravyn Lenae, Saba, Kweku Collins |
The summer is over. So much happened, it was crazy, emotions ran high, we made so many memories, and friends, and mistakes, and it’s over. But Frank Ocean’s Blonde isn’t just an end-of-summer album (even though it is THE end-of-summer album) - it’s a strange, vulnerable stream of consciousness, it’s a quietly confident fuck you to industry charlatans, it’s a reflection of a poem in a zine posing as a lookbook, and most importantly, it’s a beautiful and honest expression of an individual who has something to say.
The paradox of experiencing loss is expressed so poignantly in Michelle Zauner’s debut album as Japanese Breakfast. Everyone who has lived knows the sting of loss, but this is never a consideration in the moment. We tell ourselves that nobody in the world can possibly understand this pain; it’s the loneliest and most insular experience. But, somehow, there can be communion in this solipsism. Zauner achieved it with dream pop worthy of A Sunny Day in Glasgow and the emotional weight of Fleetwood Mac’s best. The melodies here sound eternal, especially when we know that life is not.
I saw Roosevelt for the first time over two years ago in Norway. Note about Norway: the people there do not dance. But guess what Roosevelt made ‘em do? I saw dozens of bands at the Øya Music Festival, but the ONLY band that got the crowd moving that week was Roosevelt. It’s not difficult to hear why either. On this debut, it’s all about the groove. There’s something deeper here too though. Yeah we’re dancing, but we’re also falling in and out of love and making eyes across the room and feeling lost in a new city and forgetting our jacket in someone’s car and sneaking up to the roof and Roosevelt is soundtracking every moment. People of Norway, it’s tonight or never.
There is nothing more punk than soft rock. Regular punk is fine too, but come on. I saw a billboard the other day of a pretty lady smiling with her hand on her hip and the only text was “the best thing you can be is yourself” and the logo for Mailchimp. Listen, your mom can’t tell you who you’re supposed to be, neither can Mailchimp, but Porches lit one up and drove around. I don’t know how to make this any clearer to you.
Chicago band of the year. And not because it’s the dudes from Smith Westerns, or because you always see them around town at other shows and bars and stuff, but because these ten songs are like if 1970s Neil Young released an album in 2016. Nobody else in Chicago did that. Whitney also introduced me to Hoops, who will likely make a top 10 list or two in the years to come once they release some albums. Also, that dog in the “No Woman” video. Whitney, duh.
My favorite EP of the year. All five of the not-quite-lo-fi indie pop songs on Never Going Home are so achingly sweet. They’re all perfect. They’re melancholy and delicate and complementary and adorable. If Hazel English doesn’t tour with Real Estate next year I’ll take a hike. God, I would love to take a hike and listen to this EP.
It didn’t make it into my interview, but when I talked with him for CHIRP Podcasts, Tom Krell noted how, in spite of being a seemingly intangible art form, music is extremely physical. This is an album about love, vulnerability, presence, and vitality, in their most corporeal representations. Thoughtfulness abounds on Care, from the pristine production of CFCF to the existential nods to millennial dread. It’s beaming on the surface, and dense with brainy philosophy at the core. You can almost take your fingertips and touch these songs.
She sounds like the future. In a year or two, all electronic music will be trying to sound like the sonically vulnerable pensiveness that is Oh No. It isn’t happening yet, but that’s only because Jessy is so far ahead of the pack. And that’s because she’s an outsider, never coming in. Everyone else has to chase her. But, you can’t catch the future--it’s always just ahead.
OK, I’ll make the easy comparison because I know this is the artist on my list that nobody has heard of. Andrew Bird meets Julianna Barwick. Yes, Hannah Epperson sounds like that. Yes, it’s amazing. She is a mystifying violinist with uncanny looping skills, has an artfully imperfect singing voice, and her onstage banter is ahead of its time.
Chicago hip-hop could’ve filled the entire 1-10 on my list this year, but I’m singling out the main man Dave Serengeti not only because he delivered the most arresting verse I’ve heard in rap this year (“I, Testarossa”) but because while all of these amazing young Chicago rappers are blowing up left and right, Serengeti is still (STILL) low-key the most challenging rapper in the city. This album he made with Yoni Wolf is heartbreaking, too real, and totally unlike any other hip-hop album released this year.Next entry: CHIRP Radio Best of 2016: Amelia Hruby
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