It's been 30 years since Bruce Springsteen released the wildly popular Born In The U.S.A. album, which would go on to become the most popular album of his career, and one of the best selling records of all-time. It's also been 30 years since Ronald Reagan came under fire for using its title track as the theme song to his 1984 Presidential campaign. Like so many other folks, Reagan didn't seem to get the point. Despite the cheerful melody, the song was not a flag-waving anthem, but rather a sad story of a Vietnam vet who has trouble finding work after the war. But many people chose to ignore the lyrics because they simply got caught up in the melody, and how easy it was to simply chant "born in the U.S.A." without thinking of the deeper lyrical content behind those words.

To some degree, this was understandable. If we're being honest, there are plenty of people who don't pay a great deal of attention to the lyrics, and just focus on the catchy tune. That's why people were stunned to find out that Third Eye Blind's "Semi-Charmed Life" was about crystal meth, even though it's referenced directly in the lyrics without any attempt to be covert about. Most people just knew it as the "doo doo doo" song and paid no attention to whatever was going on in the verses.

Sometimes dark lyrics and a dark melody still aren't enough to get people to understand what a song is trying to do. Consider Kendrick Lamar's single "Swimming Pools (Drank)," which became one of late 2012/early 2013's more enduring hits. It's hard not to read this song as anything other than a condemnation of alcohol abuse, and when Lamar mentions his grandfather doing the "golden flask backstroke every day in Chicago," we're supposed to understand that this was a reference to someone who had a serious problem with alcohol. And if that wasn't enough, the beat is dark and foreboding, seemingly intended to warn someone of the dark road they are headed for if they don't stop turning it up a notch. While it was easier to just think of it as a fun drinking anthem, it was hard to ignore the voice in our heads that desperately wants to view the idea of getting a swimming pool of liquor and diving in it as a pretty fucking fun activity.

So, where is this conversation headed? Quite simply, people have a long history of ignoring both lyrics and their deeper meaning so that they can make the song into whatever they want. Consider the war that was fought over "Blurred Lines" last summer. For many, lyrics in the song that seem to promote rape culture were an unavoidable fact, and the song was condemned by a lot of people, but it still spent more time at the top of the charts than any other song that year. So, how could that be? Were people nakedly approving of lyrics that seemed to take some highly questionable stances on sexual assault? Well, maybe in some instances, but for the most part, people just wanted to dance to a catchy song. They didn't want to think about what the lyrics were actually saying because if we're being honest, pop music is a form of escapism. That's why the backlash to the song was met with such anger: for people who didn't consider what the lyrics were saying, they could only wonder why those pesky feminists were trying to ruin their good time.

To some degree, misinterpreting song lyrics is understandable and unavoidable. Hell, I'd be lying if I told you I never took a second look at a song I thought I had a firm grip on and thought "wait, THAT'S what that song's about?!," so I can certainly relate. At the same time, I do wonder if we're doing all we can to work towards understanding what the songs we love are actually saying. There's nothing wrong with loving music as a form of escapism, but we should spend a little time thinking about the messages our favorite bands are trying to project. If not, we risk having the message be cheapened, or worse, disappear from the conversation altogether, It's enough to raise the question: if we don't care about our favorite songs mean, do they really mean anything at all?

While the most buzzed-about event in our fair city this weekend was undoubtedly the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament games taking place at First Niagara Center, it's unlikely that anyone had a better time than the folks who were at the Town Ballroom on Saturday night, where indie-pop phenomenon MS MR performed an excellent set, along with sport from Gang of Youths, a talented, anthemic rock band from Nashville. MS MR - the New York-based duo of Liz Plapinger and Max Hershenow, who met while attending Vassar College - scored a major alt-rock radio hit with "Hurricane" and appear to be poised for big things in the near future. Saturday's excellent show certainly gave the indication that they are headed in the right direction.

While the performances from both acts were top notch, the people in the audience deserve some credit for the evening. The crowd was thoroughly into it throughout the night, cheering heavily for both acts. When technical problems became an issue in Gang of Youths otherwise excellent set (note to the crew at Town Ballroom: why did you turn the Syracuse-Dayton game on before they were done playing?), the crowd not only wasn't bothered by it, they actively encouraged the group to soldier on through it and continue. What followed were their two best songs of the night, and while their set wasn't as long as some of us might have liked, there's a good chance of lot of folks who only showed up for the headliner made a point of googling Gang of Youths after the show was over - they made a very positive impression on everyone.

After a relatively short break, MS MR took the stage, and immediately had the crowd hooked. It seemed that a good amount of the audience was already quite familiar with the numbers from Secondhand Rapture. When they went into "BTSK," an audience member could audibly be heard calling it her "favorite song ever." The band frequently made note of the contrast in styles between various songs on the album. When they went into the electric "Fantasy," Plapinger referred to it as the "dance party portion" of the concert, and the crowd helped to confirm this by creating quite a ruckus on the floor. When Plapimger introduced the better kiss off "Think of You," which appears to be the next single, she described it as being a sort of therapy session for both the band and the audience. Sure enough, as the crowd sang along to the swear-filled chorus, it was the most cathartic moment of the evening.

Since the duo has just one album to their name, there was a limited number of selections to choose from, so they naturally dipped into the cover vault. The two non-original songs of MS MR's set were excellent renditions of Arctic Monkeys' revelatory single "Do I Wanna Know?," as well as a stunning cover of LCD Soundsystem's "Dance Yrself Clean." While the former did fine job of capturing Alex Turner's potent mix of anguish and lust, the second cover was the highlight of the night. James Murphy's lyrics were granted additional power by Plapinger's evocative delivery. Murphy disbanded LCD Soundsystem before I had the privilege to see them in concert, but MS MR's brilliant rendition of one of their best songs was a nice consolation prize.

MS MR are quite clearly on the verge of hugeness. "Hurricane" has already become an alternative radio staple, and "Think of You" is catchy enough that it could not only join it, but launch them into Top 40 territory, as well. As MS MR prepare to become a household name, Saturday's show made it abundantly clear that they are more than ready for it. Despite only existing for three years, they played with the confidence and precision of a far more experienced band, and served notice to the music world that they are going to be a force for years to come.

Dropkick Murphy's - "Kiss Me I'm Shitfaced" Because this is just so much more honest than those silly "kiss me i'm Irish" shirts. There are plenty of folks at the St. Patrick's Day parade who are not Irish, but are looking for a sloppy makeout session. This is their full-disclosure theme song.

The Pogues - "A Pair Of Brown Eyes" Well, there had to be a Pogues song on this list (spoiler alert: there's two), and this one makes sense because it's perfect for a drunken sing-along, especially when you get to the "and a rovin a rovin a rovin I'll go" part, which is one of the best parts of any song ever.

Thin Lizzy - "Whiskey In The Jar" A sort of obvious pick, but a great song in any case. The Metallica version of this song is quite good, too, but it's been played to death, and it just seems more logical to give this spot to an actual Irish band. There are dozens of versions of this song floating around in the corners of the internet, so feel free to substitute whichever version you like.

George Thorogood And The Destroyers - "I Drink Alone" Parades aren't for everyone, and neither is public drunkenness, so this classic goes out to all the folks who will be getting plastered in the privacy of their own homes, preferably with no company whatsoever. A lot of folks will hanging out with their pal Johnnie Walker, and his brothers Blackie and red this March 17th, and we salute them.

Flogging Molly- "What's Left Of The Flag" Well, first of all, this is just a great celtic-punk song, and a great drinking song, but it's title could hold a deeper meaning for some. Let's be honest, Irish culture gets bastardized pretty severely at most St. Patrick's Day parades - one Facebook friend of mine expressed his dismay at the usage of the Lucky Charm logo being used in the parade. So, this one goes out to anyone annoyed at how their Irish heritage is represented on this day.

The Cranberries - "Zombie" In a similar vein of More Serious Songs, this immortal 90s hit discussed the 1916 Easter Rising, and was fairly controversial when it came out. Some praised it for calling attention to an important part of Irish history, while others thought it trivialized the events. In any case, it's certainly a memorable song, and shows the darker side of Irish heritage.

The Dubliners - "Seven Drunken Nights" To anyone thinking of making it St Patrick's Week.

Merle Haggard - "I Think I'll Just Stay Here And Drink" Hey, Celtic music isn't the only source of good drinking songs - country has a ton of classics. As with "I Drink Alone," this could go out to the folks don't go downtown to the parade, but will still be knocking back a few dozen. And also for those who don't need it be March 17th in order to do so.

The Pogues - "Dirty Old Town" The second Pogues song - they get two because they're the Pogues. This legendary folk tune was oringally recorded Ewan MacColl, but it's been covered by just about every act associated with Irish music in any way, including The Dubliners. MacColl considered the Pogues version to be the definitive take on his song, so it's the one I chose here, but feel free to substitute your own personal favorite.

The Irish Rovers - "Wasn't That A Party" A popular favorite around this time of year (I've heard it at Wegmans three times this weekend), which is somewhat ironic because it describes the consequences the next day more than the party itself. The perfect theme song for the crippling hangover you'll be waking up with the next morning.

You know what I don't get? How the dudes who seem most enthusiastic about Bob Marley's music are the ones who seem the least likely to actually need it. I mean, it's always some ultra-chill stoner bro wearing flip-flops and a Marley shirt he bought at the mall extolling the virtues of "One Love" or "Three Little Birds," but I can't figure out what that guy needs his music for. What's the point of hearing "don't worry about a thing cause every little thing is gonna be alright" if you already feel that way? Nah, you know who really needs the message of Bob? Pissed-off, perpetually high strung dudes, like me.

Mind you I'm nowhere near as angry as I used to be (middle school and high school were troublesome times for me), but I still struggle with anxiety, and there are still plenty of times when I can feel excess stress mounting in my head. I lack the ability to be in a perpetual state of mellowness, and music helps me get there.

Now, you might be saying, "John, that's true for everybody? What are you getting at here?" Simple, I think guys - and girls - with serious anxiety issues are the real Bob Marley fans, and the ones who get the most from his message. Put it this way: I would LOVE to be as mellow as Jack Johnson or Jason Mraz, but I know thats not possible. When I hear Mraz sing "I won't worry my life away," it might seem like a nice message, but I know that's not how I operate. My anxiety can be an issue at times, but deep down, I live off of it, I thrive off it. Really, it's one of the bigger things driving my ambitions.

But all of that can get really tiring, and that's when I need a little mellowness in my life. It's only recently that I've had a great deal of interest in Marley's music. I was, of course, quite aware of him, and had heard his most famous tunes, but I was somewhat apprehensive about diving full-on into his music. It's just seemed like such a Suburban White Kid thing to do - become obsessed with Marley's music, soak in the chill vibe of it, and conveniently ignore the more serious political messages (note: I'm not saying every Bob fan does that, so calm down). But recently, I've relented, and found myself embracing the good vibes more and more.

The source of this is rather unlikely. As a diehard New York Yankees fans, I hate the Boston Red Sox and everything they stand for more than anything in the world. But when Shane Victorino used "Three Little Birds" as his at-bat music in the World Series, and the entire crowd sang along with him, I couldn't help but find it endearing (note: it didn't make it any better when they eventually won). It re-invigorated my enthusiasm for the song, and in the coming weeks, I found myself adopting it as something of an anthem. After all, I'm in my first year of graduating from college, looking for consistent work, and that kind of shit can stress anyone out. Marley's message of just letting things go a bit has worked for me, and, shit, probably mellowed me out a bit.

But this brings me back to my starting point: the chill bros are the ones who claim their love for Bob the most, but it's the perpetually strung out who really need him. If you already respond to every potential catastrophe awaiting you with "No worries, bro," what good does "Sun is Shining" really do for you? You'd be smiling in the middle of a typhoon! But for the perpetual strung-out, his message really gets through, and provides a rare bit of relief between panic attacks.

Greg Klyma has been part of Buffalo's music scene for over 20 years now, winning fans over with his mix of virtuoso guitar and banjo picking and lighthearted lyrics. On Friday night, Klyma appeared at The Ninth Ward at Babeville for the release party for his new album Another Man's Treasure. It was an uproariously fun evening that featured a great deal of crowd participation. If you didn't know who Klyma was going into the show, you were likely a fan of his when you left.

Opening the show was folk singer-songwriter Savannah King. King saw her profile increase considerably last year due to The Alphabet Project, a once-a-week video project where she released a cover (and a few originals) for every letter of the alphabet. King will be releasing her third EP in the spring, and while it doesn't have a name yet, if Friday's performance was any indication, it will be very strong. New tunes like "Habit" and "Bonnie And Clyde" were huge hits with the crowd, and illustrated how King has matured as a lyricist.

Klyma took the stage without introduction (he didn't need one) and quickly launched into a raucous rendition of the bluegrass standard "Cripple Creek," which had everyone clapping and dance by the time it was over. From there, he went into the original composition "How's It Goin'," the lead track from Another Man's Treasure. Klyma was energetic enough that while he was playing by himself, it often felt like there was a full band with him.

Klyma's ability to combine the silly and the serious was best evidenced with a song left off his new album (he wants to get it just right when he records it) in which he contrasts his Grandfather's more quirky traits with his reluctance to talk about his experiences in World War II. The song is genuine, heartfelt, and likely relatable for a wide portion of the audience.

In Klyma's second set, he dipped into his back catalog, and the crowd sang along with older tunes such as "One Foot In The Grave (Ballad Of The Self-Abusers)," a song that could be a theme for anyone who has a few too many drinks now and then, and "Ex-Girlfriends Are Cheaper Than Ex-Wives," a tune that was sung along to with equal gusto by the men and women in the crowd. The heart of set, and arguably Klyma's signature song "Two Degrees In Buffalo," in which he laments that our fair city's achievements in art and culture will never been as well known as the chicken wings.

The show was uproariously fun from start to finish; a real hootenanny if there ever was one. Hopefully, this excellent gig will lead to some strong sales for Klyma's new album. He's one of the finest artists in Buffalo's folk scene, and after 20 years in the business, he's honed his craft as well as anyone else.

Last week, legendary hip-hop group De La Soul shocked the music world when they made their entire catalog free for 25 hours. What made it so interesting was how they chose to do it: by releasing it through a Russian music site. Essentially, they pirated their own music. One can safely assume this wasn't looked upon to kindly by their record label.

But while De La Soul's method of giving away their music was novel, the concept of free music really isn't. On Spotify, it's basically a fact of life: you can go online, and listen to just about any song by any band (save for a few holdouts) whenever you want. Essentially, the record labels have conceded the war against free music. They fought the Napster with iTunes, and of course, making Napster a paid site, but it didn't work. As long as you have internet access you can listen to pretty much anything you want without it costing you a dime.

This might seem like a radical, troubling concept, but really, it's no different from how we've treated literature for years. A library is essentially a place that allows you to gain the knowledge contained in a book without spending any money. This process isn't that much different from downloading music or watching a movie for free. And yet, the library is a completely accepted and admired concept, which it should be.

But why do we think of books so differently than we think of music? Why is getting to read a book for free great, but listening to an album for free is somehow bad? It could be because of where music and literature are viewed with regard to their place in culture. We see reading as fundamental and necessary, while listening to music is viewed more as frivolous entertainment. The problem with this is that neither art form is definitively serious, or definitely frivolous. You can start with a Shakespeare/Justin Bieber comparison, and I can fire back with a Beatles/Stephanie Meyer comparison.

So, the availability of music for free on everyone's computer basically puts music on the same plane, where anyone can experience it free of charge (admittedly, you still need to own a computer, but we are getting closer). Now, this tends to frighten some people because of the idea that if we can just have music, no one will want to buy it. I disagree with this logic because if you can listen to something ahead of time, you can decide ahead of time if you want to buy it - it's more of an important decision.

But more importantly, it allows us to experience music without necessarily having to support the artists who make it. If you're curious about R. Kelly's new record, but don't want to support him because of his well-documented history of sexual abuse, you can listen to it without giving him any money. You may still have anxiety about listening to his music at all, but at the very least, you aren't actively supporting him.

While we've essentially made music free via the internet, we're still making progress with movies. Yes, you can find any film under the sun on the internet, but not in a protected, legal realm like with Spotify. Which is a shame, because there are a lot of controversial movies that are difficult to make up your mind about without paying money to see them beforehand. When The Help came out in 2011, it was extremely divisive. Some saw it as a whitewashed history of racism designed to make white people feel good, while others saw it as genuinely heartwarming. I wanted to see the movie for myself and make up my own mind, but what if I ended up agreeing with the former group? I had already given the studio my money! I would walk out of the theater feeling dirty about supporting them.

This leads to the obvious case for free art: we can appreciate the work of loathsome individuals without making them richer, and we can make up our minds about controversial art without having already paid for it beforehand. We've reached a point where free books, and free music are essentially readily available at all times. This hasn't caused people to stop buying either one, but it does allow them to make a more informed decision about who they want to support, and it makes it easier to avoid supporting the wrong people. The studios and record labels will bristle, but it's hard to see how this is anything other than a good thing.

Eight days ago, during a brief respite in the middle of the Seattle Seahawks complete and utter domination of the Denver Broncos, Bruno Mars and the Red Hot Chili Peppers took the stage at Metlife Stadium to provide us with some cheerful halftime entertainment. For the most part, it went off without a hitch; Mars pulled some MJ-esque dance moves, while Anthony Keidis mugged for the camera while singing the Peppers 1991 hit "Give It Away." It all seemed like a great time for everyone involved.

Then, as the days wore on, there were some rumblings in the internet world about the authenticity of the performance. See, the Chili Peppers instruments weren't plugged in! It was all a lie! How could they do such a thing! The answer was simple: that's what every band does every year.

What the Chili Peppers did at the Halftime show last Sunday was hardly anything new. Every band plays to a pre-recorded track during the Super Bowl Halftime show, with only the vocals being truly "live." Springsteen did it. Tom Petty did it. Prince and the Stones and Paul McCartney did it. One would guess the outrage over the RHCP miming was mostly because people didn't now that was how this worked, with a little extra because the Chili Peppers weren't particularly good at pretending to play their instruments (maybe they should get some miming advice from the Heartbreakers).

But all of this controversy about nothing begs a more pertinent question: what the hell do we really need to the Super Bowl Halftime Show anyway? What good does it do to have some band from 20-years go take to the stage and mime some songs that were big 20years ago? At least when Beyonce performed last year, we knew most of it was fake, and we didn't care because it's Beyonce. But having bands go out and do this just feels like a rather pointless exercise.

Who exactly is the Super Bowl Halftime Show for? It certainly isn't football fans, who would likely prefer to see the third quarter just start already instead of sitting through an extra 10 minutes. Presumably, it's for people who don't care about football - it's the league's attempt to create viewing interest for those who don't already have a need or desire to watch the game. And I can understand that, especially since I spent weeks before the Super Bowl trying to talk my non-football loving friend into tuning because she loves the Chili Peppers. If you're wondering, it was the only part of the game she enjoyed.

But really, all the concern over the RHCP miming their instruments shouldn't cause a backlash against them, as they were just following orders; it should just make us question this entire decadent, pointless process. The Super Bowl is the biggest football game of the year. Instead of hopelessly decorating it in ungodly amounts of frosting and glitter year after year, which serves only to distract from the game it self, why don't we just enjoy the game for what it is and cut back on the trimmings a little bit? And if the non-football loving watchers don't like it, they'll still have the commercials.

I've become increasingly convinced that the Grammys' sole purpose for existence is to give people something to complain about. I mean, no one's opinion of any musician has ever been altered by finding out that that artist won a Grammy, but if the old fogies who run the joint give an award to the wrong person, we can moan about it till the cows come home. This year, we didn't even need to wait for the show to start.

In my 2014 music predictions column, I joked that at some point in the year, a recording of Bruce Springsteen defecating would surface somewhere on the internet, and that Rolling Stone magazine would be promptly give it a glowing 5-star review. Well, there's already a new Springsteen album out, and wouldn't you know it, the folks at RS absolutely loved it. It only 4.5 stars instead of the usual 5, but the message of "OMG SPRINGSTEEN IS A GENIUS! came through just as loudly as ever. The folks at RS have nothing but love in their hearts for the Boss's music, and anything he does is guaranteed a glowing review. At this point I have to wonder, could all this praise from the same magazine, over and over again actually be hurting Springsteen's rep more than it helps?

Just to be clear, I actually like the new Springsteen album quite a bit. After picking up my copy of High Hopes, I promptly listened to it three times, and plan to give it many more spins in the ensuing week. But when I heard RS had raved about the album, it had no effect on my desire to buy the album whatsoever. After giving Springsteen so many positive reviews, their critiques of his work have no authority anymore. The rave write-ups seem like rubber stamps, and they're becoming easier and easier to tune out. While I thoroughly disagreed with Pitchfork's trashing of the album, I felt assured that it represented the writer's true opinions. I no longer have the same confidence when reading a Rolling Stone review of a Springsteen album.

Now, the obvious retort to this is "but what if the RS reviewers genuinely liked all of those albums?" Hey look, I'm a pretty big Springsteen fanboy, and in general, my thoughts on his albums aren't too far off from what the RS reviewer (usually David Fricke) has to say. The only review I thought they were way off on was 2009's Working On A Dream, which was inexplicably given five stars when it's probably a 3.5 star album, 4 if I'm feeling extremely generous.

The problem is, Springsteen is the only artist who is put on a pedestal like this. usually, its generally impossible to get a five star review in RS (their top two albums of 2013, Vampire Weekend's Modern Vampires Of The City and Kanye West's Yeezus, both received 4.5 stars), and yet four of Springsteen's last six albums of original material have received five stars, while the other two were awarded 4.5. Springsteen is the only artist who is treated this kindly - even Bob Dylan, who also often receives excessive praise from RS, was given a mere 4 stars for 2009's Together Through Life. Even if they were still praising Dylan, they were at least willing to, you know, criticize him a little bit. They haven't done that with Springsteen since Human Touch and Lucky Town.

Even if David Fricke and the RS crew genuinely do love every late-period Springsteen release, it's hard not to have a bad taste in your mouth when you remember that they're never this generous with younger artists. Why not give Vampire Weekend's excellent album that extra star? Or why not bestow the honor upon a breakout record like Frank Ocean's Channel Orange or Kendrick Lamar's good kid, M.A.A.D. City? If you're going to have a five-star review, why only make it attainable for artists over 60? I mean, think of how meaningless The Source's XXL rating would become if they only gave it to veterans like Jay-Z and Nas. Often times, the five-star Springsteen review doesn't ring true. It feels like a lifetime achievement award (or six lifetime achievement awards), rather than a genuine assessment of his work. There seems to be this idea that the younger bands have to "earn" that coveted five-star mark, but the fact is, they're earning it with the work they're doing now, and giving them obligatory five-star reviews for lesser works they make later on will only start the cycle again.

I'm a huge fan of Springsteen's music, and I think his late-period work is quite good, but when a magazine goes through six straight albums of a given artist without offering any negative critique whatsoever, it's hard to take them seriously. The propping up of old dudes while being stingy with stars for younger artists exacerbates the problem. When there's a new Springsteen album, I know Rolling Stone will give it either 4.5 or 5 stars, regardless of whether it actually deserves it. On the other hand, if a younger artist is getting talked up by blogs, and reaching on Best New Music status on Pitchfork, I know RS will give them an obligatory 3.5 star review, just to let us know they're aware of all that Young People Music. Even as one of The Boss's biggest fans, Rolling Stone's act is getting predictable, and for a magazine that desperately wants to remain relevant, their credibility is fading fast.

2013 was quite a busy year for Brooklyn-based songwriter Kevin Devine. He released two albums, Bubblegum and Bulldozer, both of which showcased his ability to write ridiculously catchy songs that also contain thoughtful introspective lyrics. When listening to tracks like the addictive "Little Bulldozer," one can't help but wonder if Devine would have been more at home in the early 90s alternative radio scene. Anyone who loved Matthew Sweet's Girlfriend album would likely enjoy both of Devine's 2013 releases. Not one to restrict himself to a given style or sound, Devine is also quite active in the folk scene, and has recorded plenty of acoustic records throughout his career.

Tonight, the multi-faceted Devine, who also plays in Bad Books, makes his way to our fair city for a show at The Waiting Room on Delaware Avenue, and will start at 7 pm, with Brother Kepp as the opening act. Tickets are $12 at the door. Anyone curious about Devine's repertoire, or any longtime fans wanting to finally see him in person are likely in for a great time.

Note: sorry for being ridiculously late to the game when it comes to writing about Beyonce. If it helps, this article mostly uses Beyonce a starting point to talk about a broader subject. Still, it has been 18 days and I'm pretty fucking late. My bad.

On December 12th, 2013, the internet exploded. I had been away from my computer all night, watching LaMarcus Aldridge put up 31 points and 25 rebounds as his Blazers defeated the Houston Rockets. I assumed that was what everyone I follow on Twitter would want to discuss. Instead, Beyonce surprised everyone by releasing a new album exclusively to the internet at midnight. And when that happens, pretty much every other thing in existence is irrelevant.

But as the flood of B worshiping tweets came in, one stood out to me in particular. It came from Rookie founder Tavi Gevinson, who commented that Beyonce had "fucked up all of our listicles." It was hard to deny the truth here. Rolling Stone had already published its Albums of the Year list, as had Spin. Pitchfork's had yet to come out, but the chances are, the votes among their writers had already been placed. This was a bit of a problem, based on the early returns, Beyonce had almost certainly released one of the best albums of 2013. And yet, it would go unrecognized. This raises a question that rarely gets mentioned: why the fuck does every prominent music publication make their AOTY list in early December?

There's three whole weeks left in the year; you're just assuming that no one else is going to blow anyone's mind until after the ball drops in Times Square? Well, usually that is the case. December is a notoriously weak month for album releases. Really, until Beyonce's midnight shocker, I can't think of any major act who released an album of much consequence in December in the past decade. Now, some of you in the comments might gently remind me of one, but as a general rule, it doesn't happen.

Based on this, it seems like there's some unspoken agreement between the record industry and the music journalism industry - we won't release any key albums in December, and that way, you can comfortably rush out your AOTY lists a few days after Thanksgiving. If this code does exist, Beyonce clearly did not give one single fuck, cheerfully making every Best Albums of 2013 list obsolete. If you doubt that last claim, consider this: even if your Best Albums list wouldn't have included Beyonce, the lists were made before the voters had a chance to consider it. That along causes a conflict.

We might feel bad for Beyonce, not getting included on the major Best Albums lists, but really, it worked out well for her. Her album exists on a plain of its own. We can't stack it up against the efforts of Kanye, Vampire Weekend, or Drake because the lists were rushed out before anyone had a chance to. If Beyonce releases her album even three weeks sooner, we'd have to compare it to every other record that came out in one of the best year's for music in recent memory. But since Beyonce's albums exists by itself, we can put her at #1 without actually determining if she was #1.

Based on what happened, there's a damn good case to be made for writing until January, when every album actually has been released to publish Albums of the Year list. It's unlikely that this will happen, though, partly because situations like this are so rare, and partly because magazines and web sites might not be able to wait that extra month to sell copies and earn page views. Still, Beyonce taught every music writer a serious lesson: if you count the score before the game's over, you wind up with dozens of lists that all look pretty foolish.

Jon Krol

David Bowie - The Next Day
Bowie disappeared for nearly a decade before returning with the best album he's released since the 70's. A dynamic, familiar-yet-still-reaching, piece of work that only adds to an already great legacy. Bowie is the representation of all things great and powerful in music. His is art, pop, love, loss, thrill and despair. This album, like Bowie's best, somehow manages to straddle the line between mainstream bubblegum and seedy-city sleaze without compromise. And "Valentine's Day" is one of the best songs he's ever released. Period.

I am going to flip-flop what I said earlier in the year. Though I admire Modern Vampires of the City and Push the Sky Away about the same artistically, and both albums have resonated for me throughout 2013, I have to give a slight edge to Vampire Weekend that I granted to Nick Cave a few months ago only because of this: I listened to Modern Vampires more times. The music remains as devilishly catchy as it is profound.

In the end, what I dub the greatest album of 2013 barely matters. But the bold existence of Modern Vampires of the City seems meaningful. Not only did the album turn a good band great, it brought spiritual questions to the forefront of the alternative and indie music scene in a playful but ultimately sincere way. Vampire Weekend did not simply name-drop biblical references for poetic cred: they dealt with contemporary religious crisis as if their very souls were on the line. When the market gets hip, the hip get hungry for something more than merely being cool.


Runners-Up: Push the Sky Away, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds; Reflektor, Arcade Fire; Perils from the Sea, Mark Kozelek & Jimmy LaValle; AM, Arctic Monkeys

Janelle Monae - Electric Lady
This was not an easy choice -2013 had a ton of albums that could have taken the top honors in a lesser year, but no album in 2013 could match Monae's Electric Lady in terms of sheer ambition and creativity. Imagine if Prince, Outkast, ELO, and Funkadelic all made an album together, and you'd have a rough idea of what were dealing with. Anthems like "Q.U.E.E.N." and the title track manage to be political while not losing anything in danceability, while "Dance Apocalyptic" might be the most purely fun song since "Hey Ya." Really, though, there isn't a weak track on this album. With 19 tracks and a run-time over an hour, the album never drags or ceases to be interesting. A brilliant record from an artist who is probably just getting warmed up.



Nick Sessanna

Pity Sex – Feast of Love
Almost all of my favorite albums are “growers…” That being said, Feast of Love is an excellent album that I really wasn’t expecting to grow attached to. Looking back, had I not given this album the chance it truly deserves, I really would have been missing out. Between the blissful shoegaze of lead single “Wind-Up” and the more subdued bass fuzz of “Keep,” this is an album truly appropriate for all moods. Call it “emogaze” if you will; it’s dirty enough to get you excited when you are happy and moody enough to satisfy any level of deep depression. The true strength of this album comes from co-lead singer Britty Drake – you’ll never hear her belting it out gospel-style, but her delivery on gems like “Hollow Body” is one of the saddest and unreasonably beautiful things I have ever heard. Recommended for fans of noisy shoegaze like My Bloody Valentine, straightforward fuzz rock like Smashing Pumpkins, or pretty much anything emotive you’d expect to hear at a basement show.



Ailsa Forlenza

Unknown Mortal Orchestra - II 
Ever twist in circles while sitting on a swing? So tight that it seems the ropes are about to break, and then when you release, the whirred rush of the world undoes itself and perception ceases for a blissful moment. The release is what this album feels like to me. Guitar riffs that blur and swish a daydream paintbrush across a sonic page, and lyrics that push the boundaries of this album into a psychedelic realm. II lifted my subconscious and implanted a sweet reverie that I can access as soon as I hear "I wish that I could swim and sleep like a shark does/ I'd fall to the bottom and I'd hide til the end of time…"




Tom Etu

Tomahawk - Oddfellows
A "supergroup" of musical weirdos, Tomahawk had been silent for years until throwing this rock in the faces of music lovers who like their experimental rock with a side of fucked up. Oddfellows is not the best album of 2013, but it was widely overlooked and light needed to be shed on its grotesquely deformed underbelly. The lyrics take you into the regret of a jailbird and the patience of a sniper, with a few sprinkled references to kinky sex. It almost follows a deranged plotline. Duane Denison can still rock out with his Jesus Lizard out, and Mike Patton can still roar and then croon like a gentleman quicker than you can have a heart attack. The addition of bass player extraordinaire Trevor Dunn to the line-up gives this album a slinky jazz vibe. Sexy and repulsive. 


For Part 2, click here.