Top 10 Albums of 2015

Here they are, ladies and gentlemen: the ten best albums of 2015, as I hear them. I run the gambit on this list, from pop to jazz to classical. Read, listen, and enjoy!

(*5 Honorable Mentions: California Nights by Best Coast, No One Ever Tells You by Seth MacFarlane, Water Walker by Folk Family Revival, You Were Never Alone by Emery, 2.0 by Big Data)

10.) Good Girl by Julian Moon: Equal parts pop and sarcasm, Good Girl is a dreamy yet biting record. It's honest, funny, and incredibly catchy (and "A Cup of Coffee" is one of the year's best songs...seriously).

9.) The Epic by Kamasi Washington: Although this record is far longer than it needs to be (a whopping 2 hours 53 minutes!), this is nonetheless a fine work of jazz. It lives and breathes, swelling with soul and alive with unusual composition.

8.) My Favorite Things by Joey Alexander: Somehow, one of the decade's best jazz albums burst forth from the imagination and ability of a 12-year-old. Joey Alexander is a musical prodigy, and on My Favorite Things he shows off his impressive, eclectic, and incredible skills.

7.) What A Terrible World, What A Beautiful World by The Decemberists: This is familiar territory, but it's never seemed fresher. Here, The Decemberists craft a bubbly album, one with introspective lyrics and tight arrangements.

6.) Higher Truth by Chris Cornell: An album of unbelievable warmth, creative melodies, and astonishing musicianship. Cornell's voice is timeless, and so is this record.

5.) Star Wars: The Force Awakens (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) by John Williams: Orchestral music is certainly out of the pop culture these days, but with this soundtrack, Williams again proves how wrong we all are. Apart from the standard Star Wars fare (beautiful in its own right), there are some stunning new compositions, notably the heartbreaking "The Scavenger" and the haunting "Snoke."

4.) Invisible Stars: The Choral Works of Ireland & Scotland by the UCD Choral Scholars & Desmond Earley: Again, classical songwriting can be some of the most expressive, most engaging music available. Here, we have a collection of choral pieces from Ireland and Scotland, and they are utterly captivating.

3.) 1989 by Ryan Adams: In all honesty, I listened to this album thinking I was going to hate it. I'm not infatuated with Adams or Taylor Swift, and thought this record was going to be a hokey, pretentious musical experiment. And while there are a few moments of faux avant-garde nonsense, this is nonetheless a fabulous recording. Adams' quaint vocals pair beautifully with arrangements ranging from downbeat folk to bouncy pseudo-funk. This is an undeniably cool, interesting album.

2.) The Weather Below by Sister Sparrow and the Dirty Birds: Holy crap, this album is up my ally. This is a mammoth throwback to the hits of yesteryear - phenomenal funk, sensual soul, unending awesomeness. Sister Sparrow herself is a bit like Joss Stone, but without all the pretentious political posturing. The overall sound quality is textured and organic, like what you might hear on an Avett Brothers or Mumford album (which makes sense. Producer Ryan Hadlock is known for working with The Lumineers). I love the way it shuffles past your ears; bounces in your brain. Highlights include the searing "Borderlines" and the bubbly "Sugar." 

1.) Besides by Pomplamoose: If there's such a thing as post-postmodern music (maybe altermodern?), then Besides by Pomplamoose is the quintessential example. This album is a hybrid of original material, covers, mash-ups, and everything in between. It simultaneously explores music of the past with that of the present, blending familiar hooks and melodies with quirky, borderline surreal chord structures and arrangements. Miraculously, this is a record free of pretension, thanks in part to its modest production and small scale. But there's nothing small about the musical innovation and freshness of Besides.

STAR WARS (Episode VI): Return of the Jedi - Review

Wow...what a nostalgic journey this has been, eh? Pouring over these 6 Star Wars films has been immense fun, and really taken me back to the old days. The digitized nonsense of the prequel trilogy - Phantom with its stupid story, Clones with its atrocious acting, and the relative resplendence of Sith - was a huge part of my childhood. (So too was discovering that they're all sub-par.) But the original trilogy? My cinematic compass. A New Hope taught me the importance of imagination, showing me fantastic creatures and outrageous settings. The Empire Strikes Back proved that pulpy sci-fi didn't have to appeal to everyone, that it could be dark and introspective. And the final entry in the series, Return of the Jedi? What did that teach me?

Let's save that until the end. For now, I'd like to simply give you my impressions, and tell you my personal experience with Episode VI. Let's dig in...

Our heroes embark on a final mission...

My sharpest memories of the original trilogy all revolve around Jedi. As a 7-year-old, I recall sitting in the theater seeing it for the first time, squirming and squealing at all the right moments (I hated Jabba the Hutt, cried when Yoda faded away in the dark, and cheered when Vader decided to save his dying son). The following weekend, I attended a friend's birthday party, and we all went to see it again. The novelty retained its freshness. I played the Super Nintendo game (Super RETURN OF THE JEDI) until my fingers were numb and my eyesight blurred. I talked for hours with my neighbor down the street: Why did Jabba want to keep Han so badly? How come the Emperor's face is all screwed up? After the Death Star is destroyed and the galaxy finally set free, what happens next?

Yeah, as maybe you can tell, Return of the Jedi was my favorite Star Wars film, my gold standard for years. Why wouldn't it be? It somehow managed to exceed Hope in terms of action and spectacle, yet still explored character motivations and themes like Empire. As a kid, I was in awe of this movie. I laughed at Han, cheered for Lando, was nervous for Luke, and fell in love with Leia. It was everything I wanted and more.

Gotta love the Emperor. Gotta.

But as the years zipped by, I grew tired of it. In my high school days, when it seemed like every blockbuster was suddenly serious and somber (from Batman Begins to Casino Royale), I became less interested in Jedi. Jabba and his desert palace seemed so silly; the Ewoks and their cuddly last stand so stupid. Even the great Han Solo, with his unending quips and cartoonish faces, annoyed me. Why wasn't this film as brooding as its predecessor? Although I always loved the scenes on the Death Star, in which Luke squares off against ultimate evil, I grew to hate the rest. Even in college, when a resurgence of Star Wars love settled into my bones, I never again warmed to Jedi. It was the flagship of my childhood, the royal sail barge of my former obsession, and could never again be anything else. It was the Back to the Future Part III, even the Godfather Part III of the original trilogy. I tolerated it. That was all.

And then a funny thing happened. Somehow the smoke cleared, and I was able to rewatch Return of the Jedi with an ounce of objectivity. And you know what? It's terrific. Really, truly terrific. As a twenty-six year-old adult, I have somehow come full circle. While it's not my favorite entry in the series (that honor still rests comfortably with A New Hope), I can nonetheless say that Jedi is far from disappointing. It is excellent.

On the surface of everything, it has incredible special effects, production design, and sound. Even with all its craziness, you buy into Jabba's palace because of its detail and authenticity: the way dust settles across the ground, how the various aliens move and bustle and breathe. The scream and squelch of lightsaber combat has never been more dramatic - the blades cackle, sizzle, slide. And the space battle? Great. While it lacks intimacy, it excels at pure pop fun.

Hands down, my favorite duel in the entire saga.

Beneath all that, the film has its best quality: the final curve of each character's story arc. Han is now a loving, albeit rough-around-the-edges general of the rebel alliance. Leia is the definition of confidence, free from sardonic quips, finally ready for love. Luke becomes a Jedi, overcoming his fear and anger and doubt, to become a guardian of peace and justice that Ben Kenobi once spoke of. And Vader? He ceases to exist, instead becoming what Luke hoped for all along - a good man, one who sees through the cloudy dark side and crawls back to the light. Luke doesn't just herald the return of the Jedi, but Anakin returns to being a Jedi. For these reasons alone, the argument can be made that this is the best episode overall. The characters no longer seem like characters at all. They're real. Jedi taught me this: when it comes to storytelling, characters should always come first.

And what about those Ewoks? They seem to be everyone's major complaint. It's George Lucas giving in to his greed, right? Thrusting those adorable little teddy bears center stage so he can sell toys and market to the kiddies? Well, I don't see things that cynically. For me, Ewoks represent the ultimate rebellion against the Empire - a seemingly harmless, oafish band of ragtag warriors who stand together and fight. They throw rocks, roll logs, and hurl spears at the technologically superior stormtroopers, and somehow do enough damage for the trained rebels to get things done. From an autobiographical standpoint, I can't help but think they're symbolic of George Lucas's artistic struggle against big studios. He wanted freedom from oppressive cinematic standards, and armed with only a slingshot and unending bravery, persevered against an empire of big money. I like that.

Return of the Jedi is yet another terrific Star Wars film. Its grand operatic razzle-dazzle pairs perfectly with climactic characterization. At times campy, at times silly, it nonetheless ends the trilogy on a very, very high note. While this movie perfectly completes the series, rounding out our characters and tying up every loose end, it still leaves us aching for more. I simply can't wait. Final Grade: B+

STAR WARS (Episode V): The Empire Strikes Back - Review

Like its predecessor, The Empire Strikes Back is one of the greatest movies of all time. It's a sci-fi epic, one that ventures past the shallow waters of typical blockbuster filmmaking and into deeper, murkier territory. Although it initially garnered lukewarm reviews, many fans and critics now cite this episode as the best in the entire saga. Understandably so. It's a dark film, daring to plumb the depths of its characters' minds and souls. Action sequences share time with intensive characterization, and the pace is slower, almost meditative. It's eerily hypnotic. As an adult, I adore Empire. It's a grim, but fitting, middle chapter.

As a kid, though? Not so much. In elementary school (before the prequel trilogy, mind you), everybody either loved Hope or Jedi. I felt the same way. Those movies were action-packed roller coasters, with lots of cheeky humor and optimistic moments. But Empire? The black sheep. I remember seeing it in theaters and experiencing all kinds of emotions I wasn't used to feeling as a child. Mostly fear. To me, this movie was truly scary. The wampa snow monster, with its jagged teeth and white fur matted with blood, was an absolute nightmare. So too were the flying parasites inside the asteroid, which squeaked and squealed in hideous tones. Worst of all, though? I hated the pivotal lightsaber battle between Luke and Vader. Strangling tension, punctuated by a particularly brutal jump-scare? No thanks. I couldn't handle any of it.

...the Empire literally standing between their friendship. Love it.

Even worse? There was a lot I didn't comprehend. My 7-year-old brain just couldn't handle it. Luke's trippy encounter in the cave, ripe with symbolism and surreal visuals, was an absolute mystery. What was going on? I was equally confused by the character of Lando. Why would somebody do that? I wondered. Isn't he their friend? My mind whirred, and all the while I hated the character more and more.

Sure, there were things I liked. Yoda, for one - I became obsessed with that little guy. I also loved Cloud City, the look and feel of it. I even enjoyed the deepening mystery of Darth Vader, with that quick glimpse beneath the helmet and the implications of his once-glorious past. But like Vader himself, the bad outweighed the good. Internally, I bounced between surprising fear and irritating confusion. Not exactly the recipe for a kid-friendly adventure flick.

Luke's training scenes are some of the saga's finest.

But I warmed to Empire. As I grew older and experienced more, it became essential. I remember sitting in my 9th grade health class, talking to my friend Bill about Star Wars. He said his favorite installment was Empire because "it's got balls and brains." In that moment, I decided he was right. When he asked what mine was, I too said Empire. And just like that, Return of the Jedi was dethroned (permanently) and I had a new number one. It remained my favorite for years. The more I rewatched it, the deeper I fell under its spell. I became infatuated with certain moments and characters: The opening Hoth scenes are beautifully staged and photographed, from the frigid exteriors to the gloomy interiors. Lando, with his sleazy swagger yet assertive leadership, is a fantastic foil. Han and Leia's love story is funny and deeply moving. Best of all? Luke's training on Dagobah, and his subsequent lightsaber duel with Vader. All these varied pieces fit together with mechanistic precision. Everything works beautifully.

Fantastic love story.

Even the gloomy mood works. The buoyancy of A New Hope is wiped away, and we're treated to the darker side of a galaxy far, far away. There's in-fighting, betrayal, jealousy, and a whole lot of insecurity. The production design mirrors this emotional shift - everything is dingy, foggy, on the verge of collapse. Even Cloud City, with its pearly facade, seems dangerous. What's going on below the surface? What threats lurk just out of sight? John Williams' score is equally menacing. The infamous "Imperial March" establishes the film's first act, with "The Clash of Lightsabers," a truly haunting piece, near the end. The only real musical stability provided, the placid "Yoda's Theme," nonetheless aches with sadness.

Heartache? Confusion? Anger? The Empire Strikes Back is a dusky tapestry of negative emotion. It's also a cinematic contradiction: thrilling yet thoughtful, expansive yet intimate, frustrating yet fun. As a kid I couldn't handle everything it threw at me, but now I understand. Empire is an incredible film, heavy on atmosphere and thematically versatile. It is perfect. Final Grade: A+