For the third year in a row, Low are part of my reflection on the year that just happened. But this time I don’t want them to be. They didn’t put out a record, I didn’t see them play live (virtually or not) even once. I don’t really want to spend a ton of time going over Mimi Parker’s death and the reactions to it (including my own); I can say this is the one time ever in my life that mourning an artist whose work I love felt anything at all like mourning someone I actually knew. For at least a month I thought about it all the time, read about it constantly, watched and listened to everything I could get my hands on, talked about it often. It felt ridiculous and necessary. I don’t know what happens with my favorite band now; I mainly just hope her family and other loved ones are doing as ok as possible. One wonderful and horrible thing about the reactions is that they were both more numerous and more heartfelt than I would have guessed; up until a few years ago running into other fans of their work felt a lot more rare. 30 years into what I personally think stacks up as one of the greatest creative runs in all of popular music (I’ve been ringing the bell about Low doing better, more vital and interesting work than other bands [x] years into their career since… 2007’s The Great Destroyer at least), I’m glad that people were noticing what they did. The bittersweetness of that, that at least by the end Low were a lot more widely and deeply loved than I would have guessed... I hope she knew that too. How many artists have passed before they made their Double Negative and HEY WHAT? We can never really know the extent of what the world misses out on when someone dies.
Other than that horrible pall weighing down the end of the year, though, at least on the small scale 2022 was pretty good to me. The world in general continues to feel more and more fraught (here in Canada too!) and we’re still not properly dealing with a pandemic. With us being an immunocompromised household… when you see people talking about leaving behind the chronically ill, it absolutely includes those of us who, pre-COVID, nobody could tell weren’t “normal” or “healthy.” I did get to a very few shows this year, masked. But mostly this was a third year in a row of just… never going out or doing most of the things we used to do. Both my wife and I switched jobs to positions that are both much more satisfying and important to us and, not incidentally, quite a bit better paying. By the end of 2022 we’ve hit the first time in our adult lives where (despite how little it would take to knock us back down) we’re not experiencing constant financial stress.
I could have guessed this would change my relationship with music, but honestly, would have underestimated the degree to which that would be true. I’m happier with my writing this year, both frequency and end result, although there’s always more work to do on those fronts. And without feeling like I was trying very hard to do so, I somehow listened to 170 new LPs and EPs over the course of the year. And I found a lot to like, too: my 2022 playlist in Swinsian (which I tried out and then switched to when the Apple Music program started having weird glitches and hours of tech support couldn’t help at all) currently has a little over 1000 tracks in it, equaling over 3 days of music. There’s still a near-infinite amount of stuff out there I’ve never touched or even heard of. But more than ever, it feels like I covered my particularly bailiwick(s) as thoroughly as could be expected of someone who still has a day job and relatively normal life.
This increased volume of input doesn’t necessarily make me think 2022 was a better (or worse!) year for music than any other, but it does lead to a list of records that I feel more strongly about. There are plenty of good records I am keeping in full that just didn’t make it onto my list(s), especially since I’m sticking with a top 40 like I did in 2021. In years where I’ve ‘only’ managed to check out 80-90 records, even a top 20 often covers just about everything I’ve solidly enjoyed from the year. In 2022, 40 records isn’t even half of that group. It has made me reflect a bit on just how sustainable this all is — do I just keep accumulating dozens of records I love every year I’m here? How often am I going to go back to any of them? And sure enough, one thing all this new listening has done has drastically slowed progress on my now years-long effort to corral and organize my existing collection. But I do feel strongly enough about what I loved this year, both from existing favorites and acts totally new to me, that I’m probably just going to kick those cans a little further down the road. I’m also mulling over how, if at all, I want to change my listening in the new year, not least because one of the major ways I discover new things ended in 2022 (RIP, The Singles Jukebox).
As I’ve mentioned before in these roundups, I don’t necessarily feel like every year these days I have an “album of the year” (and am generally loathe to try and rank things). This year I can’t decide if I have one or two; Cloakroom’s Dissolution Wave was one of my most anticipated and ever since I first got the promo back in January, I’ve been listening to it very regularly. One of the things I like about music writing (at least the way I do it) is that it forces me to listen to records a lot more than I would even if I otherwise adore them, and at this point I have an almost Pavlovian joy reaction to the beginning of “Lost Meaning.” For a long time, it seemed like it stood alone for me, and I think it still does, but I need to give at least an honorable mention to Let’s Eat Grandma’s Two Ribbons. It didn’t have the immediate impact on me the Cloakroom did, even though that first half, especially, is immediately ingratiating. But over months I found myself going back to it more and more and in another year, I could easily see it having the unquestioned top spot. I’ve seen neither in most year-end stuff, which makes me a bit sad.
So here are the lists; my 40 favorite LPs, followed by 5 EPs, 5 reissues and/or compilations, 5 releases from Aidan Baker (which makes up not even half of the releases from his various projects!), and 20 ‘loose’ songs either from records I liked but who don’t make it into the main list, or where this song was really the only one I liked, or just ones that came out on their own. If all the little extra lists seem like cheating, well, they kind of are. But this was as narrowed down as I could get it. All of the lists are in alphabetical order, and for all but the songs list any links are to where I’ve written about them here at Dusted. For the songs, partly because so many of them do have music videos (and I love music videos), I’ve actually just provided a link to the song on YouTube should you be so moved. Last year I ended by saying I hoped we’d all continue to get better at taking care of ourselves and each other in 2022. On a micro level, I can say that did happen for us, and many of our loved ones. I hope as much as possible it did for you too, and we can all find the strength to keep at it in 2023.
40 LPs
Aarktica — We Will Find the Light
Alvvays — Blue Rev
Aoife O'Donovan — Age of Apathy
Beyoncé — RENAISSANCE
Billow Observatory — Stareside
Black Ox Orkestar — Everything Returns
The Body & OAA — Enemy of Love
Bruno Bavota & Chantal Acda — A Closer Distance
Carly Rae Jepsen — The Loneliest Time
Charli XCX — Crash
Chelsea Jade — Soft Spot
Cloakroom — Dissolution Wave
Earthless — Night Parade of One Hundred Demons
Eric Cheneaux — Say Laura
Esmerine — Everything Was Forever Until It Was No More
Ethel Cain — Preacher’s Daughter
Fujiya & Miyagi — Slight Variations
Hagop Tchaparian — Bolts
Hatchie — Giving the World Away
High Vis — Blending
Horsegirl — Versions of Modern Performance
Hot Chip — Freakout/Release
Jessica Moss — Galaxy Heart
Kali Malone — Living Torch
Let’s Eat Grandma — Two Ribbons
Locrian — New Catastrophism
Loop — Sonancy
loscil — The Sails p.1/p.2
Michael Beharie — Promise
Oneida — Success
Party Dozen — The Real Work
SASAMI — Squeeze
Spiritualized — Everything Was Beautiful
Szun Waves — Earth Patterns
Use Knife — The Shedding of Skin
Vince Staples — RAMONA PARK BROKE MY HEART
Water Damage — Repeater
Wet Leg — Wet Leg
Winged Wheel — No Island
Winter — What Kind of Blue Are You?
5 EPs
Gillian Stone — Spirit Photographs
Greet Death — New Low
Picastro — I’ve Never Met a Stranger
Sun’s Signature — Sun’s Signature
Trauma Ray — Transmissions
5 Reissues/Compilations
Broadcast — Maida Vale Sessions
Laddio Bolocko — '97-'99
Les Rallizes Dénudés —’77 LIVE
Prolapse — John Peel session 20.08.94/John Peel session 08.04.97
Wire — Not About to Die
5 Releases From Aidan Baker
Aidan Baker — The Evelyn Tables
Aidan Baker — Tenebrist
Baker Ja Lehtisalo — Crocodile Tears
Nadja — Labyrinthine
Nadja — Nalepa
20 More Songs
Animal Collective — “Prester John”
Boy Harsher ft Lucy - Cooper B. Handy — “Autonomy”
Caroline Polachek — “Billions”
Chappell Roan — “Casual”
Death Cab for Cutie — “I Won’t Give Up on You”
Diatom Deli — “False Alarm”
Duke Deuce ft GloRilla — “Just Say That”
Flume ft Caroline Polachek — “Sirens”
HAAi ft. Jon Hopkins — “Baby, We’re Ascending”
Ibibio Sound Machine — “Protection From Evil”
Miči & Sun-EL Musician — “Respond”
MUNA — “Anything But Me”
Porridge Radio — “Back to the Radio”
Spoon — “Wild”
Steve Lacy — “Bad Habit”
Storefront Church ft Phoebe Bridgers — “Words”
Stromae — “L’enfer”
Sudan Archives — “Selfish Soul”
Yeah Yeah Yeahs ft Perfume Genius — “Spitting Off the Edge of the World”
Bruno Bavota & Chantal Acda — A Closer Distance (Temporary Residence Ltd.)
Listening to the most recent releases from Bruno Bavota and Chantal Acda, it’s not immediately apparent where the two artists would fit into each other’s work. Italian composer Bavota’s Piano Works Vol. 1 features the kind of crystalline miniatures that almost resist further embellishment. Whereas Belgian singer-songwriter Acda’s Saturday Moon is the kind of lush, warm indie folk that, while not exactly more-is-more, certainly benefits from a certain level of textured layering. But the two have been interested in collaborating since first meeting years ago, and even if the pandemic means they had to do so from their respective homes, on A Closer Distance the combination seems so natural as to be almost elemental. This is the kind of record where its sparseness and concision feel like products of intense focus and care, both for the sounds produced and the people who might hear them.
It’s also an example of what artists can do with a significantly limited palette. Acda’s singing and Bavota’s piano make up the bulk of the record with few additions (most notably acoustic guitar on “Sirens”), and the record gets through nine songs in just under half an hour. And yet those 30 minutes enclose everything from the gently pulsing reverie of “Still I,” to the stark rustlings of “Days Like These,” to the beautifully tumbling vocal loops of “Lullaby for Loved Ones.” If the format and emotional range bring to mind a record like Paul Buchanan’s great Mid Air, the biggest difference here can be traced back to that artist credit. A Closer Distance really does make sense as a kind of duet record, even though it’s Bavota’s close-miked, probing piano and Acda’s rich, bracing voice circling and playing off each other. If there’s a single biggest third party it might just be room(s) sound; at various times you can hear creaks, the physical elements of the piano and so on. It’s the kind of close-up feeling that can make it seem like you can see the afternoon dust suspended in sunlight midair, somewhere where these songs were being created. On “Slowmotion” Acda sings “I am here / in distant ways,” and that’s as close to an explanation for the alchemy on display here as we’re likely to get.
That space, strictly speaking, doesn’t exist; Acda and Bavota were never even in the same room while making A Closer Distance. That fact doesn’t make a bit of difference to the quality or intimacy of the results, or how this quiet, small album can be overwhelmingly emotional at times, and shockingly beautiful. “We will break some rules / step out of the comfort / and make some space for all that hides inside,” Acda sings on the closing “Everything Collides,” in the midst of making music that does exactly that.
Venerdì 19 settembre Chantal Acda presenta il suo nuovo album “The Whale”, un lavoro che nasce con un approccio diverso nel fare musica: la cantautrice olandese – ormai belga d’adozione – questa volta ha deciso infatti di di creare un nuovo disco in collaborazione con la band con cui è stata in tour per più di dieci anni, tutti musicisti che ovviamente conosce bene e con cui c’è la massima…
Sharing a small benediction upon writers - in video form, with song.
This is something I’ve been yearning to share for over two years.
I hope those of you who’ve been following the Writer’s Diary will understand.It’s something I’m proud of and which still moves me.Whilst I was writing the first draft of A Writer’s Diary, partly during the early lockdowns, one entry in particular came straight out as a little piece that I felt would have a wider life. I had a…
Top 40: Bruno Bavota & Chantal Acda — A Closer Distance
With Bruno Bavota & Chantal Acda’s A Closer Distance, this alphabetically sorted “top 40″ hits its first entrant that I reviewed at Dusted. I won’t repeat what’s there too much here, but want to mention two things I would never include in that kind review.
The first is just a small bit of ego; I was overall happier with my writing this year (it’s weird that having more money and less stress in my life helped with my creative outlet, huh?), and the last sentence in the first paragraph of this review is maybe the best I’ve done (that I can recall) at summing up how an album feels to me in such a short space.
The second is that, by pure coincidence, I first listened to my promo copy of A Closer Distance the evening that I got some very upsetting medical news about a relative. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned bits around that on here before, and it’s not about me so I’m not going to go into too much detail, but the blunt truth of it is: it felt like I’d just been told someone I love very much was about to die. The situation has improved somewhat since then (long term prognosis is... not amazing, but short term we’re doing ok), but that evening in particular I was basically in a fugue state, pretty much shellshocked. I would have loved this record no matter when or how I heard it (if you get me to compare your record favourably to Paul Buchanan’s Mid Air, I am not fucking around), but listening to it that evening felt like someone sitting down next to me and taking my hand. There are not many records from the past few years where I feel the sense of gratitude for how it came into my life that I do here.
A Closer Distance, the new collaborative record by composer Bruno Bavota and singer-songwriter Chantal Acda, happened under the now-typical circumstance of long-distance remote creation. What was originally imaged as a small EP blossomed into a full album, with both parties finding the process “weirdly natural” (to quote Acda). Dusted’s Ian Mathers calls the result “the kind of record where its sparseness and concision feel like products of intense focus and care, both for the sounds produced and the people who might hear them.” The two artists have split this Listed between them, with each selecting five records that are important to them.
Bruno Bavota Picks
I'm picking music that had a real impact in my life before I became a musician. I started playing piano at 26 years old and before that I started playing acoustic guitar at 24 years old. Music has had a great impact in my life filling a big emptiness I felt during the beginning of university (18 years old) to my twenty-sixth year. This is really a selection that helped me a lot and as I’ve always said, music saved my life. This is also a music selection for things we lost.
Damien Rice — O
2004. I was in a car with one of my dearest friends. We were parking and the radio started playing “Cannonball” by Damien Rice. It was in the afternoon, a very strange hour to listen to this kind of track on the radio programs. I was 20 years old and that is the exact moment when music came into my life. Before that I didn't properly listen to music — it wasn't part of my life. I went to the music shop and bought the album that kept me company for the whole year, changing my feelings as a human being.
Nick Drake — Pink Moon
I really don't know how to start talking about this. After I discovered the album by Damien Rice, the guys from the music shop told me “Bruno, If you like folk, singer-songwriters you should listen to Nick Drake, who probably inspired all the current songwriters scene.” I never heard about him before and I bought Pink Moon at face value. When I went back home and put this album on my home-stereo I understood, not immediately I have to say, how powerful this album is. I’ve listened a thousand times to “Pink Moon,” “Place to Be” and “Things Behind the Sun”.
Balmorhea — All Is Wild, All Is Silent
This is home for me. I remember exactly the day when I discovered them. I was just surfing around on YouTube and then there was the “suggested for you” feature that worked really well before losing everything with the explosion of the digital era. The track I heard literally blew me away. It was something that I was looking for but never found. This album has always been a safe place for me and I always return to this album. I played “Settler” at my wedding.
Antony and the Johnsons — I Am a Bird Now
This is the time where I discovered new music at the music shop. In my town Napoli we used to have a very nice music store with wonderful staff that always suggested A LOT of wonderful music to me. I always trusted them and one day I came into the music shop and they called me. “Hey Bruno, I think you're gonna like this.” I put my headphones on and “Hope There's Someone” started. The right song and the right time — I was probably also hoping that there will be someone for me.
Micah P. Hinson and The Gospel Of Progress
I clearly remember when I saw him live for the first time in my hometown Napoli (South Italy) playing this album live. As I said, I picked music for the things that we lost and the place where this concert took place is gone. The concert was so intense and it was really for a few people in the audience and I still keep those memories. A really beautiful album.
Chantal Acda Picks
Music has always been a huge part of my life growing up, with a dad who was obsessed with pop music and a mother who was an opera singer. I always felt a bit weird within the kids in my school. But music gave me a safe haven and that actually never changed. It’s not what I choose to do. It happened and it makes me breathe.
Joni Mitchell — Blue
I refused to sing until I was 16 years old. I was quite an intense teenager and because of that I wanted to do what my mother did not! I also spent a lot of time surrounded by horses. A totally different world, but still the combination in my life that works best. My mum was often teaching in my house. In the room next door. I fell asleep with people singing. At a certain moment I took my guitar and started humming a bit. Someone waiting in the hallway heard me, drove home and took this record with her for me. I totally loved it. The stunning combination between melody, craft and depth really inspired me to start singing.
Nils Frahm — Felt
I love this record in so many ways. The sound of this record is just breathtaking. That on top of the choice in melody really sticks with me. I can listen to this album any moment of the day. Nils got on stage with me 10 years ago in Paris and we instantly connected. We decided that he would be the one recording my first real solo album. I had the best time. We were like two kids in a candy store. He put me in his strength. I guess we are both intense people. Both putting music first always. I will never forget what he did for me.
Amenra — Mass IV
Might sound like a weird choice for me. This is loud music. I play very slow music most of the time. But if there is a band I feel really connected to it's Amenra. Their music and being is all about connecting earth with all that’s above. Their approach is vertical in that way. Like mine. We both go for total surrender. To the music, to the energy and to each other. I don't think in genres or styles. I only think music. And they really touch me very, very deeply.
Kae Tempest — The Book of Traps and Lessons
What to say about Kae. How to love somebody you have never met. They are capable of changing people. Their words are reaching the bottom of my heart. They can break me and be soothing at the same time. They are impressive in being vulnerable and the biggest strength in one split second. Intensity. Depth. Realness. Truth. I saw them live once. The room shifted. Nothing felt the same anymore. The song “People's Faces” is not just beautiful but above all necessary. We need it. I need it and I will never be able to listen to this without tearing up.
dEUS — The Ideal Crash
The band that made me move to Belgium 22 years ago. This Antwerp band has been a part of my life since I was 16 years old and I followed them everywhere. They are exciting, different, edgy but soft at the same time. This record is full of beautiful songs. Great guitar parts. I know it by heart. I sing it when I am alone. It's my ideal crash.
