Are these really my Top 10 albums of 2012? I mean, over the last 12 months I’ve been making mental notes of LPs I’ve come across that really stood out to me as Top 10 material but it wasn’t until I started ranking them that it sank in how much I’ve enjoyed, learned from, and connected with each one of them in different parts of the year.
2012 has been a really special year for me and one I’ll probably look back on as the year I chose to be happy. I’ve never consciously thought about happiness as being something I choose to attain or achieve for myself. I had always expected for happiness to simply happen as a reaction to something.
I’ve had the pleasure of travelling overseas by myself for the first time this year, I’ve met and hung out with some awesome people in London, Paris, Brisbane and here back home in Melbourne. Making the move to breakfast radio and receiving a broadcasting award from the station after five years on air was such a surprise and delightful moment of validation. I felt my confidence come back to me, not as it was before I lost it, but in a new and slightly more bulletproof form. I was excited by change, I was opening myself to new experiences and beneath all these experiences, the music never stopped.
Although it has been a year of playlists and tailoring my own listening experiences, I’ve been really inspired by a handful of artists who have come through with really good albums. These Top 10 albums of 2012 have all inspired me and my personal exploration as a songwriter and artist (it still feels weird for me to refer to myself as a singer even though I know I can sing. I am not ready for the pressure of being a ‘singer’). There are glossy pop albums here, creative projects that opened me up to new styles and influences, and grand singer/songwriter albums.
As much as I love blogging about music, I’m really excited to explore the possibilities of being an artist myself and that’s pretty much what I’m gonna focus my time and energy on in the new year. Friends, you gotta follow your bliss.
Is Robyn Fenty‘s new opus Unapologetic up in here? No, hunty. I am not part of that circle jerk committee.
I know I promised this post would drop, like, last Tuesday or something but let’s face it – the five of us that read this countdown could probably wait until now. I had all sorts of things going on this week that kept me occupied, which didn’t involve drinking, strangely enough (I’m making for that right now as we speak).
The basic reality about 2012 for pop music is that there hasn’t been that many really good albums this year. But before you check me for grasping at 20 or so very short straws, I’m gonna say that this Top 30 is actually the best indication of the variety of music I have really enjoyed this year.
Even though pop continues to dominate a good deal of my aural persuasion, the last 12 months have left me thirsty for different kind of beats, different styles and characters.
Getting my ass on Spotify and discovering new artists I normally wouldn’t have come across has been really instrumental in broadening my tastes, which was kinda a little mission of mine when I put the blog on hiatus a few months ago.
Well. Now that I’ve cleared the room of all One Direction and Calvin Harris fans. Let’s go check out my Top 30 albums of 2012, starting from #30 to #21 this week:
I’ve never been in a position where I’ve felt equally frustrated and excited about a Leona Lewis album before. That’s actually a lot of passion and fuss over a “beige balladeer” most of my peers have little time for these days.
However, if you’ve spent any more than three minutes on this blog, you’ll find that I do rep hard for premiere female vocalists a lot of tastemakers happily dismiss as irrelevant.
Glassheart is Leona Lewis‘ third studio album and – without question – her most eclectic record to date. In its finest moments, the project captures Leona‘s preference for love-bled songs and renders it to elements of drum ‘n’ bass, trip hop, and alternative pop. All of which are sonic styles the X Factor siren has never dabbled in before.
But I’d be wary to label Glassheart as some vigorous artistic overhaul for Leona Lewis because it is sorely inconsistent in parts – and that’s where the struggle I mentioned before comes in. There’s this strange tension between the aforementioned innovative new styles and the shackles of tired “Leona-format” balladry that we’ve all heard before in her first two albums.
Glassheart just feels like one of those bodies of work that tastemakers are likely to pick apart and re-assemble in a way they see fit, much like the approach to Christina Aguilera’s Bionic.
One would give approving nods to standouts like ’Come Alive’ – a formidable storm of grime and drum ‘n’ bass – that feels like the album’s true opener once you’ve placated Leona’s conservative fans with the single (‘Trouble’) and two dutiful ballads.
Elsewhere in ‘Glassheart’, a sinister cross-pollination of Leona‘s ethereal vocals with aggressive dub step beats hit the lights with blindingly great results.
There has never been a more exciting Leona Lewis uptempo created. It legitimately snatches wigs in the hardest way, from the cold and bemoaning verses through to the head-splitting dance breakdown.
However, that walloping bass-heavy breakdown is something of a new addition. If you play back the first performance of ‘Glassheart’ Leona did at G-A-Y a year ago when the album was originally slated to drop, you’ll find it pounding to a more poppers o’clock, Euro-dance production. Just a little bit of trivia you can share with your friends between sips of strawberry daiquiri next time you’re cruising at the bar.
However, not every square inch of Glassheart flares with ostentatious displays of new styles and colours – you would actually need to listen closely to some of these tracks to pick up the subtle flavours in Leona‘s experimentation.
The bittersweet ‘Favourite Scar’ – which samples Tears for Fears‘ ‘Head Over Heels’ – hears the Hackney diva adopt a bossier swag in the verses. The way she dismisses “it don’t matter, it don’t matter, it don’t matter… boy, you better turn up your ste-ree-oh!” sounds like something Rihanna would put down.
Props must be given to the diverse producers and songwriters who collaborated with Leona to make Glassheart sound as vital as it does.
Emeli Sandé – one of the most celebrated breakthrough British artists this year – lends her songwriting abilities to three tracks on the album’s final tracklisting. It’s a stellar collaboration that I never wanna see diminished in any way because these two talents fit each other so damn well.
The most memorable of Sandé’s contributions is ‘I To You’ - a smouldering, strings-soaked James Bond-theme in waiting that casts Leona as a love-imprisoned siren, delivering line after line of intense drama.
“I will stay home with the kids, everyday cleaning up where you live even though I’m educated. ‘Cause you are great, you are big. And I don’t mind givin’ in, givin’ in for free, for free. You are love, you are sin, you’ll always be everything, everything to me… What am I to you?”
My personal appreciation of ‘I To You’ comes hand-in-hand with a relief in hearing Leona deliver a song so capably without the vocal acrobatics and escalation to glass-piercing high notes she is typically known for.
Elsewhere, the album’s next single ‘Fireflies’ is constructed on and driven by an emotive piano melody so stunning in its own right, it almost absorbs the spotlight from everything else happening in the song – including the gospel vocals and Leona‘s crescendoing ad libs.
I mean, there’s a time and place for it, I’m not in favour of stamping out those vocal tricks in Leona‘s repertoire per se, because in the context of the right song it can be so fucking electric.
‘Lovebird’ – which is a textbook example of your standard Leona Lewis/Ryan Tedder ballad – is shining proof that the winning formula is what it is for a reason. I fucking broke down in tears behind the steering wheel when I first heard the massive break up ballad. The lyrical themes of growing apart from someone you love and that guilt-ridden desire to want to be set free felt like it was written about my last relationship.
“But the time went on, the wind has blown, and I have grown. And I started feeling that my wings have been broken. And I can’t believe that I ever want to be set free, but I just can’t stay. So your love bird’s flying away…”
The intensely personal song was of course written about Leona’s own separation from her long-term boyfriend, who she had known since she was 10.
There are some extraordinary songs written on this album that just sound like honest and vulnerable accounts of love’s many kinds of bruises. Although, Leona’s no stranger to singing tortured break up ballads in her six-year discography, they feel chillingly personal this time around.
Glassheart feels like a worthwhile investment in establishing the singer’s versatility even if it wasn’t a committed effort from start to finish. The overall quality of the songs on this album is the stronger than any of Leona‘s previous releases, which I think more than compensates for her dwindling record sales and general commercial relevance.
Footnotes:
Leona Lewis‘ Glassheart debuted at #3 on the UK charts, making it her first album to not enter the British charts at #1. There is no Australian release date confirmed as yet, so I’ve imported by copy of the deluxe edition, y’all.
The project’s proper lead single ‘Trouble’ (remember, she’s pretending that ‘Collide’ never happened) managed to peak at #7, while the album’s title track ’Glassheart’ cracked the UK Dance charts at #27, based on downloads alone in the week the album came out.
As a fag scorned and spat upon for never following the Eurovision Song Contest, I would say my immediate attraction to this year’s winner is something of a hallowed turnaround. I may, once again, hold my head up high in a gay bar.
Sweden’s dance/pop raven Loreen captured me at first instance with her bewitching interpretative dance performance of the champion Eurovision song, ‘Euphoria’, which swiftly raced up the charts around the world after taking the crown and even became the first non-UK Eurovision song to make the Top 3 in the UK charts since 1987.
I had so little knowledge of the mononymed artist that every move felt like she was deliberately building a mystery. The heavy bangs, the steely gaze, and that icy-yet-pleading vocal performance in ‘Euphoria’ all set the tone for what was to complete my Loreen experience.
The 29-year old’s debut album Heal is an alluring blend of pulsating dance pop that feel more subtle than what one might initially expect from a Eurovision pop purveyor.
In the current pop market that is already fluent in electronic dance music parlance, Heal speaks a language of its own – shrugging off trendy dubstep inflections in favour of a richer soundscape that enhance its emotive lyrics rather than compete with it. Most tracks on the album are smoothened with waves of atmospheric synths and lush orchestral strings, which really complement Loreen‘s own chilled vocal delivery.
Standouts like the tormented ‘My Heart is Refusing Me’ is a showcase of pedigree dance balladry – just like ‘Euphoria’ – it comes complete with a chorus that formulaically expands after periods of restraint verses. If there is any justice, her international label would release this 2011 single now following her mainstream breakthrough.
The splendid ‘Crying Out Your Name’ – with its percolating synths and drum ‘n’ bass beats – is such a relatable self-destructive break up track. It totally got me with its raw flares of frustration and desperation.
“So don’t you ask me where I’m gonna be tonight. Don’t ask me if I’m gonna be alright. I’ll be crying out your name, drink through all this pain tonight. I don’t even want to fight. I know when the battle’s lost… the painful things you did to me. I’ll do them all to someone else. And that is how it’s gonna be – it takes a lot of self-defence.”
The aforementioned three singles – all produced by SeventyEight (who worked on Kerli‘s ‘Zero Gravity) – make sense as the shining ambassadors of Loreen‘s album but they’re not necessarily indicative of its scope.
Elsewhere, the ethereal ballad ‘Everytime’ harks to the downtempo gems Anggun used to turn out in her prime. I mean, this song was almost designed for soundtracking introspective moments when you’re soaking in the bath, contemplating your next move. I appreciate the deliberately stripped back, acoustic setting in the opening recital of verse one before she repeats it over a bed of winding synths and claps.
As far as cohesion goes, Heal serves a masterful blend of crowd-pleasing Eurodance in its obvious singles candidates and more distilled, chill out sounds. It’s essentially a cathartic break up album – as the title would suggest – offering salvation for disparate moments, whether you’re throwing on the Louboutins to dance the tears away or simply staying at home with the cat, blogging your feelings on Tumblr.
Footnotes:
Loreen‘s Heal will be released digitally in Australia on 26 October.
Just between us gurls – can I just say how glad I am that I didn’t review this album when it first leaked last Friday night?
My exclusive Two Eleven listening party of one in bed with a bottle of wine was an experience I’d rather forget. Even as a long time Brandy fan, I found this new album to be her most inaccessible work yet.
Those waiting on the sidelines with baited breath for a second helping of B-Rocka‘s slayfest radio-ready hits like ‘What About Us?’ and ‘Right Here (Departed)’ need to remain seated.
Two Eleven is very much an album designed to be consumed as an entity rather than an incoherent smattering of random styles that buck to familiar flavours of the moment.
Its subversive beauty - and the sole reason why I’m even bothering with this review today – didn’t take long to emerge once you put aside your preconceived notions.
The soundscape we’re traversing here is a slick fusion of futuristic hip hop beats with pure grown ass woman soul. It’s a modern combination that is its own identity, that is tailored to Brandy, and one that puts nothing above her signature vocals and multi-tiered harmonies.
The ice-cool mid tempo ‘Slower’, which was hemmed by M.I.A.‘s producer Switch, is an immediate winner. It’s a Chris Brown contribution that hears B-Rocka swiftly manoeuvre between smooth soulful verses to rapid-fire spoken word rap hooks.
Worshippers of Brandy‘s 2002 opus Full Moon would probably immediately match ‘Slower’ to some of its slicker album tracks like ‘All in Me’ and ‘Anybody’. [Side bar: that album was the soundtrack of my high school years and it remains one of my all time faves.]
Sean Garrett, who has written countless blockbuster hits for Beyoncé, contributes several standouts to Two Eleven - including the current single ‘Wildest Dreams’, a soulful ballad about finally experiencing love that is too good to be true.
“It’s hard to hold back tears whenever you hold me close. I think about the years I spent saying this is all I want. Just wanted someone real to love me for me, me… just Brandy.”
This sentiment and cautious approach to love is a theme firmly threaded through Two Eleven, when it’s done right – the honest lyricism here recalls the greatness of Brandy‘s last critically acclaimed album Afrodisiac.
Elsewhere, ‘No Such Thing As Too Late’ – a nocturnal slow jam penned by Rico Love and Jim Jonsin - hears the 33-year old diva talk about not rushing into something serious. While the pleading ‘Without You’ reveals a woman struggling to overcome trust issues in a new relationship.
“Somewhere along the line I lost my way and I made you pay for the mistakes he made… it’s not fair to take it out on you. I’m done hanging my baggage all over your head.”
Some divisive stylistic risks were taken on Two Eleven that probably would have worked if the songs itself were stronger.
A-list urban producer Bangladesh (who is responsible for bangers like Beyoncé‘s ‘Diva’ and Rihanna‘s ‘Cockiness’) became the swag enabler on the record – pushing Brandy into a new, hip hop intensive direction with ‘Put It Down’ (featuring Chris Brown), which ended up becoming her first US R&B Top 10 hit in over a decade.
Further down, the messy ‘Let Me Go’ – which samples Lykke Li‘s ‘Tonight’ – feels like a poorly executed attempt at being edgy. What with lyrics mentioning about Brandy‘s mum on Twitter? Gurl.
Despite the range of popular and prolific producers masterminding Two Eleven, every track feels like it was designed with a shared vision and with Brandy‘s performance as a priority.
You could not imagine there being another artist in the game right now even coming close to canvassing the complex vocal extravaganza showcased here.
The title Two Eleven is a reference to Brandy‘s birthday (11 February), which she treats as a symbolic reminder of growth with every year, but also – perhaps just as significantly – the date is also a nod to the day her idol and mentor Whitney Houston died this year.
With ‘growth’ being the operative word at every stage of Brandy‘s staggered discography, I honestly hope she doesn’t take another four years to produce another album.
I kinda feel like I’m ready for an anthemic, more uplifting album from Brandy now. Y’know, something like the commercially poo poo-ed Human, but with the musical innovation of this album?
Perhaps something that feels less like it needs to prove a point and just delivers music as an accessible soundtrack to our lives. Because I know next time I get behind the pulpit and preach ‘Brandy‘s back‘, I want to have all ears and eyes in the room.
Footnotes:
Brandy‘s Two Eleven hits Australian shelves on Friday 19 October.
The album was launched everywhere else on Monday 15 October and swiftly scaled to #1 on the US iTunes R&B/Soul album chart and #2 on iTunes Top Albums chart.
Here’s the deal with Nelly Furtado‘s new album. It’s thoroughly irresistible yet in parts, strangely inaccessible. But it is this interesting push and pull dynamic that keeps you coming back for more of The Spirit Indestructible.
This opus is the Canadian singer/songwriter’s first English-language album since 2006′s Loose.
The game plan wasn’t to replicate the mainstream sounds of her last effort, but rather have The Spirit Indestructible be a reflection of all the best flavours fans savoured from Furtado’s previous studio albums.
The raw juxtaposition of hip hop beats and pop melodies purveyed in the her debut Whoa, Nelly!, the sentimental lyricism of Folklore, and the sense of creative liberation she took with Loose – they’re all embedded in the DNA of The Spirit Indestructible.
It is positively one of the most enjoyable albums I have heard this year – bringing to the table real personality, depth and variety.
Much like all the best albums, The Spirit Indestructible grows on you. Some songs you’ll gravitate to in the first two plays, others will emerge from the background in subsequent listens.
However, the one resounding concern some fans have expressed with this album is the distinct lack of radio-friendly singles. To date, Furtado has despatched three solid numbers – all I would endorse to be the right choice – but none have stuck with the mainstream media.
