My list of 2020 picks (rather than best of’s) comprise what I consider to be distinctive, generally uncategorizable recordings that were the most memorable, stood up to and encouraged repeated exposure, were enriching and hugely enjoyable, and seemed determined to push/pull on established norms and boundaries.
Distinctive, generally uncategorizable recordings
Isolationism. Destroyer of worlds or fount of creation? If we are to judge by the enormous amount of music released in this most despondent of timeframes, I’d say the latter. Out of necessity or desire, whether the suppression of live performance provided impetus, or musicians just used their newly-discovered free time to produce in abundance no matter the circumstances, pandemic or not, 2020 felt like a constant airburst of artistic engagement, actualization, and realization. As always, there’s just simply too much, and never enough money, time, shelf space, etc. Of course, not a bad thing for those who drink deep of the art form, but such considerations mandate choosing wisely and acclimatizing your ears selectively.
Nevertheless, my tastes run broad and wide—I’m eclectic, I contain multitudes—crisscrossing the readymade, journalistic shorthand for rock, jazz, electronic, experimental, what-have-you. In that spirit, my list of 2020 picks (rather than best of’s) comprise what I consider to be distinctive, generally uncategorizable recordings that were the most memorable, stood up to and encouraged repeated exposure, were enriching and hugely enjoyable, and seemed determined to push/pull on established norms and boundaries.
Listening habits, acquisitions, and investigations from 2020 (and beyond): An ever-deepening love and appreciation for the vibraphone and its nuclear family of instruments; the ongoing mission to curate a sub-library of 60s/70s Japanese jazz, fusion, and avant/free/improv material; the perpetual hunt for synth/electronic treasures that fell between the cracks; being regularly impressed by the astounding sounds emanating from such labels as Hubro, Sofa, Jazzland, International Anthem Recording Co., Mikroton, Confront, Spool, Evil Clown, DiN, Txt, Carpe Sonum, Neotantra, et al, and the bottomless congregation of artists and labels residing on the planet Bandcamp.
Final footnote: all the recordings listed below are CDs, the media to which I continue to pledge unyielding fealty and, for me, the sole, best format for sound reproduction, presentation, and archiving that matters. So, in alphabetical order:
Top ten picks ::
EIVIND AARSET & JAN BANG :: Snow Catches On Her Eyelashes (Jazzland 377 925 0) — Aarset is all over this list, and serendipitously or not, it’s only coincidental by virtue of his range extending beyond that of a mere ‘guitarist’. He’s not only of the most in-demand musicians working, but like the best character actor, his mere presence on a recording automatically raises expectations to the next level. Joined by fellow auteur and longtime foil Bang, himself no slouch in the innovation department, the two sculpt immaculately conceived electronic tone poems whose wayward, liquifying textures, rose-colored hues, and eccentric matrices ravish the ear. Whether Aarset waxes au naturel or complements the big Bang is irrelevant; the duo’s mercurial creations effervesce colors out of space, refracted through digital prisms bending the wavelengths of jazz and electronica.
BVDUB :: Ten Times the World Lied (Glacial Movements GM041) — Brock Van Wey, aka bvdub, has built an immense catalog spanning the ambient/drone/dub-techno divide. Founded in 2007, and though originally a more bass-ic, bottom-up construct, successive years have seem him adopt a starkly minimalistic posture, but don’t be fooled—his leviathanic walls of sound align him as one of the key architects of such musics operating today. Before you grimace in displeasure over yet another trawl through aimless drift however, rest assured that with Brock you’re in good hands. The man surely didn’t invent melancholy, but he wields its pronounced affect like a pro, each track’s luxuriously blossoming and immersive loops discomfiting enough to deflect even the slightest bit of listening malaise. Yes, strict ambient music (of which this album isn’t), taken in large doses, magnifies Eno’s original dictum of it being simultaneously ignorable and listenable. Bvdub emphasizes the latter; you want to get lost in his timestretched emo-scapes, and the honing of this milieu has birthed his best record to date.
EXTRACTOR :: Echo Train (Greyscale GRSCL 15) — Dub techno brilliance from Russia on the increasingly necessary Greyscale imprint. While epitomizing words like “lush” and “deep” (and surely revelling in those descriptors), Extractor’s take on the genre doesn’t truck within the kind of passivity that many outlier critics dismiss as coffeehouse beat-zak. Dub-techno routinely embraces cavernous echo, swampy reverb, atmospheric tonewash, and lo-fi rhythmic propulsion, but those characteristics are its fundamental hallmarks, what literally defines the genre. Extractor amps the lush factor in spectacular fashion, unabashedly exploiting every rule in the d-t playbook; crazy thing is that he does it so well. For me, I can put this thing on endless repeat and let the images rush by: sinking into a bathtub of velvet, charcoal skies shifting overhead, riding that twilit train to a city on the edge of forever.
TRILOK GURTU :: God Is A Drummer (Jazzline D77075) — Peripatetic master percussionist Gurtu might create ‘world’ music, but not from the one the rest of us occupy; his own self-ascribed world transcends time, space, locale, dimension. Though his Hindu heritage and musical upbringing is never in the rear-view mirror, Gurtu’s nomadic m.o. has long embraced fusion, indigenous musics, multikulti chamber cells, and a gaggle of other imperatives, all subsumed, digested, realized, and performed with the utmost brio. This recording recalls nothing less than the halycon days of his work for the late, lamented CMP label, an energized, simply dazzling display of jazz thermodynamics cast aloft cresting waves of interlocking tabla, spiritualized drumming, and a palpable exuberance that is positively life-affirming. That the band behind him stirs up the diverse Asian underground, London’s irruptive club aromas, and widening electronic eddies from various stylistic soups only boosts his well-earned cred. Like an exquisitely crafted pinot noir, the man gets better with age.
JON HASSELL :: Seeing Through Sound (Pentimento Volume Two) (Ndeya NDEYA7CD) — Hassell might be eighty-three years old, but he has the musical sense and sensibility of a young turk in his 20s. Still spry, vital, and forward-thinking, we should count any new work from him as a blessing, and this, the second volume in a (hopefully) ongoing series, is a godsend. The previous volume seemed somewhat erratic, maybe a bit too ‘edited’ in spots, even for an iconoclast like Hassell (and his ‘lesser’ records lay shame to most progressive artist’s highest achievements), but this one is utterly startling. All the idiosyncrasies he’s developed while engaging his Fourth World concepts are in full tilt here. Alien topographies are introduced with Hassell’s typical flare, augmented by his patented trumpet daubs, extraordinarily other electronics, and arsenal of effects, with ample assistance by simpatico experimentalists Eivind Aarset (again), Michel Redolfi, percussionist Adam Rudolph, and many others. Hassell and crew re-enact the flora and fauna populating a rainforest on Mars from one million B.C., its chameleonic inhabitants erecting simmering biospheres under their shaman’s eyes. Poetics aside, no one sounds like Hassell; his verdant reality zones are his own. I’ve been wowed by his work ever since the unassailable Power Spot, and this one cuts the mustard (nearly) as much as its classic predecessor. Bold, bodacious, and totally essential. For those of you who haven’t bought this yet, what the hell are you waiting for?
JOHN MCLAUGHLIN, SHANKAR MAHADEVAN, ZAKIR HUSSAIN :: Is That So? (Abstract Logix ABLX061) — Place these three visionaries in a room, sit back, and watch magic happen. The CD cover’s intricate mandala acts like a time portal; gazing upon its embroidery, one is instantly transported to a ‘60s Haight-Ashbury psychedelic hoedown, where cultures clash and Love Devotion Surrender blasts out from the windows. What can be said about McLaughlin that hasn’t already been said? While other guys his age are watching the days go by from the comfort of their easy chairs, he continues to crank out some of the most vital music of his career, and that’s saying something from the former Mahavishnu kingpin. Is That So? fixes his gaze inwards, a meditative set of tracks created predominately with guitar synth (yay!) that fold out into widescreen vistas of absolutely gorgeous technicolor. Tabla prophet Hussain takes your pulse while providing earthly anchors, the rhythmic temperature set on low simmer, but as the sparks fly from McLaughlin’s frets, he quickly goes raga a-gaga. Mahadevan’s aching voice is manna from heaven; he’s the ancestral glue that binds the trio together in pantheistic fashion. Immediately disavow yourself of the notion that this is just Shakti 2.0; more like a gathering of elders showing the young’uns how it’s all done. As for JM? Still blazing after all these years.
DAVID LEE MYERS :: That Which Is It (Pulsewidth PW010) — Post-Arcane Device, his original imprimatur, Myers’s works have tilted towards a somewhat more ‘melodic’ accessibility that runs counter to the dense waves of sounds forged through those early feedback generators. Whatever tools he employs now to foment his art (soft synths? Modulars?) doesn’t mitigate his expert knob twiddling one iota. Mentors both literal (Tod Dockstader) and figurative (Louis & Bebe Barron) inform these burbling, bubbling, transformative works; the inventiveness on display here is, quite frankly, stunning. From whirlygigging datastreams that sound like anthropomorphic plasma to the verdant ritual beat patterning of farflung tribes, Myers’s breadth of ideas appears boundless; he’s one of a dwindling pool of artists whose reach never exceeds his grasp. And it’s a marvelous thing to behold.
CARLOS NINO & MIGUEL ATWOOD-FERGUSON :: Chicago Waves (International Anthem Recording Co. IARC0033) — It’s impossible to underestimate the Windy City’s influence on the evolution and discourse of jazz in all its forms. For uncountable years, from the AACM to the Tortoise/Isotope 217 contingent, the city’s been a hotbed of improvisational and compositional mutation that periodically reinvents itself like the proverbial phoenix. Discovering the IARC label back in 2019 was one of those rare, galvanizing experiences for me, the ones that stop you in your tracks, whose sheer audacity takes your breath away. The music released on the label by Makaya McCraven, Angel Bat Dawid, Junius Paul, Jaimie Branch, and many others seemed to signify a grand reawakening where jazz was but a springboard for limitless ideation where genre confines don’t exist. Nino and Atwood-Ferguson carry on as if the term ‘category’ was a dirty word; this picturesque, unclassifiable music sets its own standard. Nino’s mysterioso percussives and atmospheric conjugations vie with Atwood-Ferguson’s effects-drenched violins to call forth a divine rush of Alice Coltrane spirituality, Ariel Kalma’s misty mountain hop, and Laraaji’s ecstatic chakra-boosts. More nu-age than new age, a pure, enraptured music, the ideal soul-balm for tattered times.
OZRIC TENTACLES :: Space for the Earth (Kscope KSCOPE678) — I’ve bowed in reverence to Ed Wynne & Co. since first discovering them in Claremont, California’s Rhino Records shop around 1991 (though they’d been self-releasing tapes on the UK’s festival circuit since the mid-80s). Over the ensuing decades and a catalog as large, I’ve never missed a single one of their psychedelic space rock mindfucks. Influenced by Gong, Steve Hillage, Hawkwind, Here and Now, and whatever ganja was available at the time, this free-wheeling collective of trippin’ misfits minted perhaps the most formidable archive of interplanetary ear sauce ever, unparalleled in its breadth, scope, imagination, and sheer musicianship. Leader Wynne remains the mainstay, but he’s got his son, keyboardist Silas Neptune, in tow, and some choice crewmembers from the past helping him out as well. Revolving door notwithstanding, space is still the place these lot reside in, chock-a-block with supernova guitar licks, oodles of soaring synthesizer, burping, splashy fugs of sequencer, and neck-snapping drumming, emphasized by the fusoid interstellar overdrive of “Popscape.” Vita voom!
WIRE :: 10:20 (Pinkflag PF26CD) — The enigma that is Wire twists the old maxim of age before beauty—as the years progress, their beauty appears infinite, their constitutional architecture ageless. The band calls the tracks herewith strays, the first half from 2010, the second from 2020, but the history of these tunes run the gamut of Wire’s idiomatic legacy. “Boiling Boy” and “German Shepherds,” two 80s chestnuts, are reduced to their bare essence, members Colin Newman, Matthew Simms, Graham Lewis, and Robert Grey (with additional contributions by Laika’s Margaret Fielder) expertly tracing the graceful lines across each track’s precision-etched chassis. The flip’s opening “The Art of Persistence,” all throbbing gristle and Neu-inflected discipline, eclipses their finest work, new millennium tensions deconstructing the minutiae of post-rock and the quartet’s lineage within it. To coin a Wire-ism, it’s beginning to and back again.
HONORABLE MENTION ::
LINKWOOD & OTHER LANDS :: Face The Facts (Athens Of The North AOTNCD 042)B — The message in Herbie’s (Hancock) shirts spelled out this, a merging of Balearic disco swagger, outlander slo-mo house, and Arp/Moog airbrushing by this savvy duo. Delightful home-listening for the jet-set, picking o’er the bones of early Paul Hardcastle, Fila Brazillia, and Juan Atkins’ blacktronic-science daydreams.
MIKE MANGINO :: Coisas (Ideal) — Robo-electro riddim riders with a sweet center, initiated by crusty analog noisemakers that reveal their mecha-pretty selves, like a long-lost IDM classic from the glory days of the 90s when electronic sound exploration, post-dance music, ruled the roost. Richard D. James, eat your heart out.
MARILYN MAZUR’S FUTURE SONG :: Live Reflections (Stunt STUCD 20082) — Miles’ protegé Mazur’s organic fusion ensemble meets its maker subtly at times, brashly at others, featuring (yet again) Eivind Aarset, trumpeter Nils Petter Molvaer, drummer Audun Kleive, and others in a contemporary bitches brew of cosmic proportions.
HERVE PEREZ & ALEX HEGYESI :: Garden Of Secrets (Discus 97) — Strangers in strange lands, these two act as cartographers marking their territory with a fusillade of struck objects, coiling appendices, neo-primitive paraphernalia, and (un)found sounds. Prickly perverse, and all the richer for it.
J. PETER SCHWALM & ARVE HENRIKSEN :: Neuzeit (Rare Noise RNR125) — Neuzeit (“new time”) like the present for these dedicated, hard-working tonal extremists throwing ambient jazz tropes and shuffleboard electronica together to see what sticks. It all does, superbly. Third millennium shock bop in a nutshell, primed by guile and awe—make of that what you will.
