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I won't do it. Uh-uh. No sir. I will NOT be writing a “Best Albums of 2011” column this year. Not for love or the thousands of dollars Grand Junction Free Press editor Tracy Dvorak is surely bound to wave at me. Not even if you say “pretty please with sugar on top.” (But go ahead and say it anyway, because I never tire of hearing that.)
Do I really need to spell out the reasons for my recalcitrance? Must I convince you that this widespread annual tradition is a needlessly capricious ritual more intended to fill column inches and satisfy impending deadlines than to educate or inform? Is it not obvious that no music writer today has tastes sufficiently wide to meaningfully assess the nearly infinite expanse of the popular music world, and that therefore any “best of” list is bound to be a cramped, aberrant exercise in over-specificity?
Furthermore, isn't it by now apparent that not all years are created equal — that some years see the release of dozens of doozies, while others bear little musical fruit? That to arbitrarily draw the curtain at December and raise it again the following month is an accident of the calendar, not a critical act? And that to claim a perch in winter allows us any insight into our immediate cultural history is specious and absurd?
So it is settled. Craven will not stoop to submit a “Best Albums of 2011” column this year. He will not, for instance, note that Tom Waits released his best (and, perhaps not coincidentally, most accessible) album in more than 20 years, “Bad As Me,” a couple months ago, or that its ramshackle, roughshod pleasures succeed in creeping up on its listener with repeated spins, until, at last, it stuns with sheer greatness.
Nor will Craven allude to any of the excellent debut albums released in 2011, especially that of the two-person group, Cults, who followed up a well-received E.P. from last year with their self-titled, full-length inaugural release in June of 2011. There will be no mention of that album's textural richness and its delightfully echo-drenched amalgam of girl group dynamics and noise rock.
He won't reiterate his love for the comeback album by the Original 7ven (aka the Time), or the fine 2011 releases by They Might Be Giants and Mike Doughty. He certainly won't reference “Born With Stripes” by San Diego's the Donkeys, whose “Don't Know Who We Are” vies for the title of Craven's favorite song of 2011.
And by no means will Craven point to Nick Lowe's latest album, “The Old Magic,” which once again finds the Basher in a gentle, romantic and melancholy mood — but this time, presenting some of the most memorable hooks and lyrical conceits of a career positively festooned with ‘em, and in the process crafting what is surely Craven's pick for best album of 2011... not that you'll ever know.
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Notes is supported by the Gay and Lesbian Fund for Colorado, partnering with the Interfaith Alliance of Colorado to promote the values of mutual respect, religious diversity, inclusiveness, compassion and justice.
Craven Lovelace produces Notes, a daily cultural history of popular music, for KAFM 88.1 Community Radio, kafmradio.org. You can visit cravenlovelace.com for more of his musings on the world of popular culture.
Do I really need to spell out the reasons for my recalcitrance? Must I convince you that this widespread annual tradition is a needlessly capricious ritual more intended to fill column inches and satisfy impending deadlines than to educate or inform? Is it not obvious that no music writer today has tastes sufficiently wide to meaningfully assess the nearly infinite expanse of the popular music world, and that therefore any “best of” list is bound to be a cramped, aberrant exercise in over-specificity?
Furthermore, isn't it by now apparent that not all years are created equal — that some years see the release of dozens of doozies, while others bear little musical fruit? That to arbitrarily draw the curtain at December and raise it again the following month is an accident of the calendar, not a critical act? And that to claim a perch in winter allows us any insight into our immediate cultural history is specious and absurd?
So it is settled. Craven will not stoop to submit a “Best Albums of 2011” column this year. He will not, for instance, note that Tom Waits released his best (and, perhaps not coincidentally, most accessible) album in more than 20 years, “Bad As Me,” a couple months ago, or that its ramshackle, roughshod pleasures succeed in creeping up on its listener with repeated spins, until, at last, it stuns with sheer greatness.
Nor will Craven allude to any of the excellent debut albums released in 2011, especially that of the two-person group, Cults, who followed up a well-received E.P. from last year with their self-titled, full-length inaugural release in June of 2011. There will be no mention of that album's textural richness and its delightfully echo-drenched amalgam of girl group dynamics and noise rock.
He won't reiterate his love for the comeback album by the Original 7ven (aka the Time), or the fine 2011 releases by They Might Be Giants and Mike Doughty. He certainly won't reference “Born With Stripes” by San Diego's the Donkeys, whose “Don't Know Who We Are” vies for the title of Craven's favorite song of 2011.
And by no means will Craven point to Nick Lowe's latest album, “The Old Magic,” which once again finds the Basher in a gentle, romantic and melancholy mood — but this time, presenting some of the most memorable hooks and lyrical conceits of a career positively festooned with ‘em, and in the process crafting what is surely Craven's pick for best album of 2011... not that you'll ever know.
----------------------
Notes is supported by the Gay and Lesbian Fund for Colorado, partnering with the Interfaith Alliance of Colorado to promote the values of mutual respect, religious diversity, inclusiveness, compassion and justice.
Craven Lovelace produces Notes, a daily cultural history of popular music, for KAFM 88.1 Community Radio, kafmradio.org. You can visit cravenlovelace.com for more of his musings on the world of popular culture.
