UTK Off The Rails

Best Albums of 2023

I do this every year and if you’re not into it, just hit delete. I know you don’t come here for the music reviews, but maybe you’ll find an album you didn’t know about - my taste isn’t terribly mainstream - or you can just use this Apple Music playlist as you read the column.

Speaking of, I made the switch from Spotify to Apple Music this year. Spotify continues to hold back the planned “Hi Fi” upgrade, Apple Music came to my car, and the Apple One subscription just made sense. There’s almost no difference in selection anymore and while Apple Music is still held back by the legacy parts of iTunes hiding there, the quality and integration just works better for me.

My tastes are varied and I’m disappointed there’s not more diversity here. The albums I wanted to really like - Killer Mike’s solo, Black Thought’s jazz experimentation - left me without a hip-hop album in its 50th anniversary year. It’s just how it fell this year.

I was really tempted to put 1989 (Taylor’s Version) in this mix, but while I missed it the first time around - she wasn’t on Spotify, remember? - it would clearly be at the top of this list, or that one. It’s simply too good, too classic, too culture to be anything else. But even with the re-records and the vault tracks, that album is of that time and place, though it remains relevant now. I’ll wait to see what kind of album we get in or after the Kelce Era. Rumors of a 2024 angry and political album intrigue me greatly.

As always, this is my list, my criteria, and your mileage may vary. There are plenty of good, even great albums, that fell outside it and I’d love to hear about things you think I missed via the comments. Let’s get to it:

Holly Humberstone, Paint My Bedroom Black

This album snuck up on me, despite the fact that Holly Humberstone has been on numerous “one to watch” lists, and toured with Sam Fender. I didn’t expect the kind of music she makes to speak to me. It’s not far off from Olivia Rodrigo, and yet Humberstone’s similar (whispery soprano, though Rodrigo has more upper range) voice seemed to go right at me, while Rodrigo’s goes right past me, as I think Rodrigo intends. That Humberstone toured as Rodrigo’s opening act is a great fit.

The sound is phenomenal, modern, and cutting. There’s elements of Fender, of The 1975, and even Gang of Youths, all of which I love. Yet it’s entirely original. Humberstone’s radical transparency is refreshing rather than cloying. Her song structures go away from form and rhyme and end up closer to conversational and confessional. Her voice stays consistent, but not monotonous. When the music gets bigger, on “Into Your Room” and “Flatlining”, the moment is felt because it’s dramatic.

Comparing this album to Taylor Swift’s 1989 shows the differences. Swift treats each song like a moment, even within the scope of an album that’s thematic. Humberstone also has the theme, but it’s more subtle, less focused, and the album reads like a novel rather than Swift’s short stories. Both work and I won’t be surprised if Humberstone’s album holds up as well a decade from now, informed by a few more eras of her own.

There’s a part of me that hears Leonard Cohen in the lyrics. There’s odd twists of phrase, overspecific language and examples, and simplistic lyrics that just throw open the bucket of emotions Humberstone seems to carry. That’s high praise, maybe too high for a first album, but it works. Tell me you don’t catch the twist on Say Anything and get it deep in your bones inside “Into Your Room.” It’s moments like that and something that makes this album quickly connect to me in a way that seldom comes so great. No album this year made me feel like this one.

Inhaler, Cuts & Bruises

Yes, Elijah Hewson can sound a lot like his famous father, and yes, Inhaler can sound a lot like U2 at times. If that’s a bad thing for you, hit skip. Inhaler is a far poppier outfit, but they’ve managed to find their own sound and their own place, while also becoming a band that can hold up to being Pearl Jam’s opener. That’s not an easy spot for such a young band. While the kid should know about stage presence, he was born fourteen years after Bono’s iconic Live Aid performance that broke U2 in such a big way.

It would be easy, but a trap, for Inhaler to simply be U2 Junior. The sound is obviously there, especially in the vocals, but aside from tribute bands, it’s hard for anyone to sound like anyone. Even familial, the experience and the influences aren’t the same. “If you like this” style algorithms really fail on this, because Inhaler doesn’t really sound like anything. There’s some late Oasis, some very late Pulp, some Brit-Pop from the Oughts, but it comes out a bright, almost poppy sound that is catchy enough for radio but not calculated enough to be a hit. “Indie Pop” sounds like something that shouldn’t be a thing, but I don’t have a better descriptor.

With this album, Inhaler completely dodged the sophomore slump. While It Won’t Always Be Like This may have had a fresher feeling of discovery, Cuts & Bruises is tighter, more focused, and in almost every way, just better. It’s an establishing album, showing what they can do, album after album and show after show. This isn’t likely to be a band that vanishes like so many, running out of things to say or not finding an audience they can connect to closely. My guess is that their next album is going to be the one that breaks them big and I can’t wait.

Hamish Hawk, Angel Numbers

This Scottish singer was an early year find for me and I think I played it more than any other. (My Spotify/Apple split will throw off my year-end recap numbers.) Someone explained Hawk as Morrisey without all the problems, and there’s similarities in both the voice and the wordy, talkative songs.

Hawk’s songs are wordy. Call it literary, call it early Springsteenesque, call it a bit twee; all of those work, and yet Hawk makes it somehow … fun. I can’t remember ever thinking that about Morrisey, no matter how hard Johnny Marr was working to make it sound that way. Hawk can do that too, as he channels The Killers on “Dog Eared August”, which is basically a 2023 version of what The Smiths did mumble-mumble years ago.

The album swings from chamber pop to Killers-style songs to chamber pop, with Hawk’s distinctive voice and lyrics holding everything together perfectly. “Elvis Lookalike Shadows” is the most Smiths on the album, Hawk sliding his voice across the notes like the King’s shadow he describes. It’s an album that rewards close, multiple listens, both in the lyric and the often nuanced production. Even with all the references, this is a unique album and a unique talent that deserves far more attention on this side of the Atlantic.

Gabriels, Angels & Queens

Last year, the first half of this album made nearly this spot and I worried that I was putting it too low. It’s so good in whole that I worry I’m low again. I often look back at previous years lists and see things where I wonder what the heck I was thinking. Maybe in ten years, I’ll still feel this way, but to me, I can’t put this above the others, but that’s just strength and no knock on this album at all.

As with last year, there’s something mystical here. Jacob Lusk has always had a great voice, even back on American Idol, but that’s not enough, as Idol and Voice contestants find quickly. (How many even get a first album these days, let alone a career?) Lusk needed the right collaborators and the right sound, modernizing his classic soul voice, but never constraining it.

(Hmm, albums with ampersands or angels are having a good year on my rankings.)

Lusk’s voice is just gutting and he knows how to use it to cut and to soothe. He needs big songs, big emotions, and big settings. His instant-legend performance on the BBC’s iconic Later shows all of this. Watch him, but watch Jools Holland, who’s seen everything. Holland’s face lights up with surprise, with delight. He knows people are going to watch this moment, that this feels like small history.

The downside? It didn’t find an audience. That this kind of thing can be on a big British show and a season of a big American show and almost no one knows this is an indictment of the entertainment economy. Give this man the Chris Stapleton slot at next year’s Super Bowl and let him go at it and we’ll see if America is worth saving.

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, Weathervanes

Jason Isbell isn’t ever going to change. He’s much more popular than he was when he first went out on his own, leaving the Drive By Truckers behind. He’s different, in many ways, and DBT is different as well, able to go their own ways on good terms, with even the occasional reunion. Isbell’s residencies at the Ryman, an HBO special, the emergence of his wife, Amanda Shires, as her own artist and with an album that can best be described as very tense and often angry, Isbell’s just Isbell.

I mean this in the best of ways, a unique artist that knows who he is and what he wants to say. He’s political without being too snarky. He’s a must-follow on Twitter, if only for the responses and the feral pigs. He’s great live. He’s faced comparisons to everyone from Willie Nelson to Bruce Springsteen and not buckled under that pressure (or the watchful eyes of sportswriters everywhere.)

Isbell is somehow a more connected Springsteen. I mean, do any of us really know Bruce? We hear anecdotes, we know the stories and legends, but people know Isbell from his Twitter wars and jokes, his marriage from shows and songs, his daughter from the same, and his battle with alcohol from everything about him. Isbell’s never as preachy as Springsteen, never quite as in your face, and never really has the anthemic moments.

I don’t think Isbell’s next album will be Born To Run or Born in the USA and I don’t think his next tour will be in stadiums. I wish he had that kind of success, but I also like being able to see him in Nashville, Indiana as well as the Ryman in that bigger Nashville. I do think whatever he does next will be just as good. While Weathervanes won’t be one of the top albums of his career, it will hold up as well as the rest of his work.

The Rolling Stones, Hackney Diamonds

A brother and a drummer down (mostly), the Stones are coming back after almost two decades. They’re all 80 or close by. Their last great album came … well, I enjoyed Undercover but most didn’t … maybe Some Girls? That’s 1978. I had that on bloody 8-Track!

Yet somehow, the Stones sound absolutely great. The Stones give credit to Watt for the production, but this is more the just modern production. In ways and definitely in comparison to classic (ancient?) Stones records, it’s almost too clear. It’s not overproduced, but the big gap is almost like when you see a distant cousin for the first time in a while and now he’s 6’2. It takes a bit to get used to. But it’s more than that I think. This is one of the best, cleanest sounding albums ever, which is not what you expect from late-stage Stones, or from Jagger and Richards, at all. The more I listen to it, the more I think this might be the best sounding album of all time and that a lot of albums in the future are going to aim for this. Not bad for a band that started in 1962. (Watt is due to work on Pearl Jam’s next album, so I’m very curious how that will sound.)

The best example of this is, for me, the song “Mess It Up”. There’s a classic Richards riff through the verse, and then at the chorus, there’s a shift in the smooth tones of Wood over the Richards layer. But then there’s a bridge section, where Wood does a shuffle over the Richards rhythm. At the same time, Jagger’s voice gets bigger. There’s a backing vocal, overdubs, but somehow the effect is that Jagger’s voice just hit another gear. I’ve played this thing a million times trying to separate out a backing vocal and it’s honestly of a single piece. The effect is astounding and I’ve never heard anything like it that didn’t come off completely artificially. (I’m very curious if they ever play this live.)

Which isn’t to say these don’t sound like Stones songs. They do, to a T. There’s a lot of great Keith Richards riffs, starting from the very first track and going to the blues that full circles the album and maybe their career. Jagger sounds great, and engaged like he hasn’t in a while, even live. Ronnie Wood absolutely shines on this in a way he hasn’t, well, ever. He’s always been overshadowed by Richards. Understandable, but while Wood wasn’t there for some of the classics, he makes those his own live and re-established the bands sound post-Some Girls, allowing the rest of the band to explore the space a bit. Wood is one of the underrated guitarists of all time and if you spend an afternoon going back to The Faces and his overlooked solo work, you’ll be rewarded.

Speaking of Wood, if you do go back and listen to his stuff, especially the solo stuff, the easy comparison is to Richards’ contemporary work. It’s not close. Richards’ solo stuff is absolutely classic, where Wood is at his best when he’s supporting, shuffling, and filling. Neither has a classic voice, which is why Jagger is so key to both of them. Wood’s his own thing and if he’s short of being Keef, well, it’s a very short list of people who aren’t.

Is this the last Stones album? I hope not. I’d like to see them do a run of this stuff live, maybe at The Sphere, and get right back in the studio. (Ha! After I wrote this, they announced a tour, sponsored by - I’m not kidding - AARP.) Maybe there’s tracks left over, maybe they’re more inspired, or maybe they look in the mirror and hear a ticking clock. I never thought I’d hear this album, or any album from the Stones again and the fact that it’s this good is so tantalizing. I’m trying not to be greedy, but there’s a chance for this band to have a really late renaissance.

Mammoth WVH, Mammoth II

Wolfgang Van Halen is doing the number thing, like his dad’s first two albums. Those two hold up and are touchstones here, but this isn’t homage and while Van Halen played “Panama” at the Taylor Hawkins memorials - and killed it - he’s not doing that on his albums. Sure, there’s echoes of Eddie here - how could there not be?

This time around, Wolf had his touring band in the studio, but it feels like when Prince had a band. It was still him doing most of the tracks and that is decidedly not a bad thing. He’s not only technically dazzling, but the songwriting is solid. While his singing is perhaps his weakest tool, even that is enough to carry the songs well. Ballads? Well, not yet.

What Van Halen (Wolf’s Version) does best is have fun. The songs are clever, the videos are funny, and the musicianship is great. I’m told he’s getting better live, or rather more comfortable with it. He’s not the prototype rock star in terms of look, but he has all the talent, and more. With a second album that didn’t take a single step back, he feels ready to take a step forward.

If the Foo Fighters are the biggest band in the world, why couldn’t some version of Wolfgang Van Halen be much the same? The golden pedigree, the musical talent, the hard work despite the pedigree, and the fact that the world is sorely lacking for rock stars right now should leave the lane wide open. I was wondering what Wolfgang’s “Beat It” might be, and who the Michael Jackson of today would be. Maybe he pops up with a wicked solo at Usher’s Super Bowl performance? Maybe Lady Gaga needs a shredding opening to her next work? Maybe Wolf’s 1984 comes in 2024. I do know this is an album worth cranking up in the car and I have almost no higher praise.

Foo Fighters, But Here We Are

There’s no escaping Taylor Hawkins on this album. Where Charlie Watts, at his age, was inevitable, Hawkins was a shock and a loss. In the shadow of his death and on the heels of the tribute shows that had some amazing moments, Foo Fighters move on with a new drummer. It’s still very much Foo Fighters, an oddly disparate entity that seems more than just Dave Grohl’s backing band, when that’s actually what it is. Most of the musicians have side projects or solo work, but they come together as a very functional and tight unit with most of them (save Josh Freese) having played together for twenty years or more.

Grohl was “just the drummer” from Nirvana when he started Foo Fighters and it was almost entirely Grohl on the first album. The band was made to tour, but some silly videos and great chemistry made Hawkins, Pat Smear, and Chris Shiflett more than just the touring band. Grohl’s gone from a problematic rocker to America’s BBQ Dad. Nirvana is classic rock now and Grohl may be the last rock star from that classic era.

(Do you ever think about what Kurt Cobain would be today? If we assume that Grohl would have gone on to do what he did, I think Cobain would be the John Lennon in that equation. Like Lennon, he’d make some good records and some indulgent records. He’d gravitate to some weird things and some things you’d never think, like Lennon hanging out with Geraldo Rivera, and imagine an aging Lennon as a MAGA icon and someone pour me a stiff drink please.)

There’s more emotion here, as you’d expect, and in concert, there’s still a sense that repetition is helping Growl past it, but he’s not there yet. He’ll sing it one more time, with you, in hopes that this is the version, this is the time, and then he’ll sing a song and, no offense to Freese, it’s not Taylor back there and the feeling comes back. The loss is still too raw and this album lives in the rawness.

Tyler Childers, Rustin’ in the Rain

Tyler Childers has already had one of the more interesting careers. Still just slightly under the public’s consciousness, he’s been able to do some things that non-stars can’t do. Three versions of the same album? Check. Full bluegrass album that comes with hard politics attached? Check. Now, he’s done a short album - not an EP, but just seven songs - and done the best work of his career.

From his standard version of Appalachian country on the first few songs, to a heartfelt Kris Kristofferson cover, Childers is actually just warming up. The last two songs go so far over the things he’s done to be full audio shock. “In Your Love” is one of those heartbreaking love songs - with a video to match - that should end up in weddings and funerals for the next century, both appropriately. Following it up with the Elvis-like “Space and Time” that just slightly takes the twang out of his voice for a moment, shows that Childers could still go a lot of directions, all of them interesting.

Childers, like Jason Isbell and Sturgill Simpson, seems like they can take their own road and do whatever they want at this stage. Isbell’s been a bit more conventional and while Simpson’s vanished for a while, Childers is flourishing. He owned the stage at Farm Aid and I have a feeling he might not feel like a secret for much longer.

Shooter Jennings and the Werewolves of Los Angeles, Do Zevon (Live)

Normally I don’t put live albums on here. This gets an exception since, while all obviously covers, there’s no corresponding non-live album. (Willie Nelson’s 90th celebration, titled “Long Story Short”, is also worth a long listen.) One of my favorite people doing songs from one of my favorite artists? Yeah, that’s worth an exception if it just meets the very high expectations that combination sets. It does that, and more.

I’d always wondered if REM could have done a Zevon album, and yes, they did an actual album with the actual Zevon. It was good, not great, more a bunch of guys having fun than making a real work. I knew Shooter was a fan, but to commit to a whole show of nothing but Zevon songs in his hometown is bigger, more dangerous, and probably a big part of the appeal. He doesn’t just play the hits. Starting with “Lawyers, Guns, and Money” and ending with “Werewolves” and “Desperados” is almost too easy, but he really curates the selection, both to showcase Zevon’s songwriting and his interpretations.

The band is rock solid, Shooter’s voice never wavers, no matter the song. People forget he was the first choice for Velvet Revolver - another what if - so it’s no surprise he can rock. What he does with some of the slower songs is the real revelation and says as much about the material as it does Jennings’ voice. There’s no denying he’s always had Waylon’s voice. This is the first album where there were points I heard more Jessi than Waylon.

Jennings never gets the credit he deserves. He was Sturgill Simpson before Simpson, with a better voice. He’s never relied on the name and pedigree, but never shied from it. An album of Waylon songs is easy; an album of Zevon songs is anything but. He’s spent two years touring with Brandi Carlile and I’m very curious what’s next. It could be anything - even a sequel to Black Ribbons - and I’ll always root for Shooter.

The Hives, The Death of Randy Fitzgerald

One of the stories I always use when discussing marketing is one about Lemmy Kilmister. Lemmy would walk out on stage, tilt his head up at the mic he set up like no one else, and introduce the band the same way: “We’re Motorhead. We play rock and roll” and boom, they’d hit you like a truck. Similarly, Kilmister was once asked why Motorhead didn’t grow or do much differently. He’d done a LOT differently in Hawkwind, but he answered just as simply “We like this. Why change?”

The Hives don’t sound anything like Motorhead, but they similarly are simple, loud, and haven’t changed much. “Hate To Say I Told You So” is my declared theme song and it’s one of few songs that I never tire of. This whole album has the same energy and nearly 20 years on, that’s somewhat surprising. What makes it great is just how wholeheartedly the whole band goes all in. It’s the suits, it’s the sound, it’s the single-minded punch of each and every song. Want a ballad? Want a break? Go somewhere else.

The lyrics still don’t make a lot of sense, but Pelle sounds good yelling them. The grooves are groovy. The bass is punchy. The drums are brutal, almost to the point of Meg White-ing it. The guitars crunch. This is the formula and when it all comes together - and every album has one or two of them - it’s the greatest thing ever. I don’t know why “Countdown To Shutdown” works so well or any more than something like “The Bomb” or “Bogus Operandi” but to me, it does and is some of the Hives most engaging stuff since, well, Veni Vedi Vicious. That’s high praise. No, the highest.

Caroline Polachek, Desire I Want To Turn Into You

I don’t know what Caroline Polachek is, and I think that’s the point. Is she a pop singer with a bit of an indie edge? Is she a librarian glasses and leather dress sex symbol from her singular Late Show appearance (see below) or is it an act? Is she a wink-and-nod Lana Del Rey adjacent songwriter, concocting moments inside of carefully constructed pieces and enhanced by autotune, or is she just a super talented artist that inside the modern context of the music industry appears to be as crafted as everyone else?

The answer is completely unknown and that’s the point. (Aside from the last one. Polachek’s voice on the live, unamplified Tiny Desk Concert put to rest any autotune rumors.) Polachek can be any of those things, or none. What she’s done is meticulous in construction and still thoroughly authentic. While the music is modern and even poppy, Polachek’s soaring voice reminds me in ways of Kate Bush. The control and focus is even more so, as are the performances that I’ve seen of her. She’s definitely someone I’d like to see live.

On “Fly To You”, she offers a frenetic beat, an acoustic guitar that seemingly floats above the mix, and then has Grimes and Dido on to show a perfect compare and contrast of similar artists. Sure, it’s her song and her show, but Polachek is the standout voice here. There’s moments all over the album that catch the ear, snapping my head towards speakers the first time and an appreciative nod the next hundred times I hear it.

Polachek has worked with artists like Charlie XCX and Beyonce. It’s clear she took detailed notes and then figured out a way to apply it in (and to) her own voice and her own work. This year, more women stood out, but too many of those just didn’t land with me. If Boygenius is our CSN, maybe they need their Y. Muna was just electronic Haim, no matter how much I wanted to like it. Lana Del Rey’s album was a Lana Del Ray album, about as take it or leave it a proposition as exists in music. In a world where Taylor Swift is the sun, Polachek is clearly a star.

Brent Faiyaz, Larger Than Life

Since Justin Timberlake doesn’t make albums anymore, Timbaland took his talents elsewhere. Brent Faiyaz had a great album in 2022 that didn’t really speak to me and felt just a bit too typical Timbaland for me. It’s instantly recognizable as a sound, which kind of renders Faiyaz a bit irrelevant at times. If you told me this was a Timbaland album on the first listen, I’d nod. It’s on the later listens where Faiyaz comes out, with his personality in the lyrics and his voice seemingly growing as you get past the Timba-ness.

Faiyaz uses the old trope of the between song skits and it almost never works. This reminds me so much of the drastically underrated Alexander O’Neal album, Hearsay, in many ways. It’s functionally a modern version; not a remake, but an update of the mood. Think of it like when they redid Shaft with the grandson as the main character.

Faiyaz hits his stride on “WY@”. It’s a near perfect toxic liveblog, a broken set of characters doing things they know are wrong. It’s universal and could be forgettable outside of finding a new smart way to do it, both lyrically and musically. Faiyaz goes to his lower register, which is more vulnerable, and nearly cries with pain throughout the song. I hope this one didn’t take a lot of takes.

This wasn’t presented as an album, but a “mixtape,” a term which has utterly lost its meaning in the streaming age. It’s cohesive and if shorter than his previous Wasteland, it’s better for it. Faiyaz is young, talented, and surrounded by similar talent. Timbaland’s been doing this for a long time, but part of that is recognizing talent. While this isn’t a masterpiece to me, the tools are all there.

The Pretenders, Relentless

If Mick Jagger can sound this good at 80, why shouldn’t Chrissie Hynde at 72? In fact, as with Jagger, Hynde sounds better, using where her voice has gone over the years to her advantage rather than detriment. It’s one of the most distinctive voices in rock history and on the well named Relentless, this version of The Pretenders stands up pretty well against even their best work. There’s a couple songs on here, fast and slow, that I think would have been Pretenders classics if only they’d been released in the 80s.

Hynde can rock still and she can soften up for a “Stand By You” ballad. In fact, play this album then go back and listen to “classic Pretenders.” There’s a bunch of eras, of course, with only Hynde as the real through line. Pick any of them, pick your favorite, and this holds up. Drop one of these songs onto one of those albums and you wouldn’t really pick out that this is from forty-something years later, or thirty, or twenty. Somehow, The Pretenders are still just The Pretenders.

This reminds me a bit - slightly - of The Kinks pseudo-comeback in the 80s, where “Come Dancing” was almost a gimmick single, music to accompany the video, but seemingly detached from The Kinks we think of now. We didn’t have streaming and you couldn’t flip cassettes or vinyl fast enough to really compare and drop songs like that into the old stuff and … it wasn’t as far out as we’d thought. I’m just glad Chrissie Hynde is around, sounding this good, and rocking this much.

The Gaslight Anthem, History Books

When The Gaslight Anthem broke up a decade ago, they were one of those bands that could have been remembered fondly by critics and a certain subset of music fans, but not broadly. That’s probably still true, but as Brian Fallon and the rest of the band have come back together, they seem more comfortable being themselves, or rather, who they are now. Fallon may be writing songs to sing with Bruce Springsteen these days, but he still remembers he’s just from Jersey, not The Boss.

That comfort comes with songwriting that has matured into a comfortable place. It’s not lazy, but it’s seldom really reaching away from what they do well, perhaps better than anyone. Gaslight isn’t a bar band that got big; they’re a band that fits in with a place and a mindset, not unlike The Hold Steady, Drive By Truckers, or Bad Religion.

It’s the latter that seems more present on History Books, with the noisy guitars, tighter band, and hyper-smart lyrics at the forefront. Fallon isn’t scared of being heard or sounding smart or turning the volume and distortion up, all at once. Bad Religion did all that, the “smart punk band” that could actually play and write. Gaslight isn’t punk, but there’s an element there, traces that probably came cross-country and seeded across a generation. The fact that there’s smart rock and roll still out there in the world, played with such passion, gives me hope.

bar Italia, Tracey Denim/The Twits

Bar Italia was formed in the heart of the pandemic and kept anonymous until early 2023. That anonymity led to a lot of speculation, but the story is mostly that there’s no story. The London-based trio basically used lockdown to develop a sound that synthesized 90’s shoegaze and early 00’s Brit pop without sounding nostalgic. At their best, Bar Italia can sound like Chrissie Hynde fronting Pulp. (Yes, Pulp is vastly influential these days, despite most Americans not being able to name a single song, though they’ll all go “AWOO HOO” when prompted. It makes it surprising that Pulp’s own album left me very flat.)

They did not only one, but two albums and they’re not the same. Tracey Denim could stand alone here and The Twits wouldn’t be far behind if I ranked them separately. Most bands don’t put out two full albums this quickly, but this isn’t your normal band in any way. The UK has its share of mysterious bands who seem a bit too artificial and seem eternally on the edge of a breakup, but isn’t that the Pulp/Oasis model to a T?

This album(s) is one that you’ll know if you’re into quickly. The voices, both of them, can be polarizing. Nina Cristante isn’t afraid to stretch her range or just ignore what you think the melody should be, while Sam Fenton echoes Robert Smith, Jarvis Cocker, and Leonard Cohen and yes, that’s as weird as it should be. I’m not sure this will hold up, but it might end up being one of those post-pandemic experiments, one that will act as a signpost ahead of the apocalypse.

Westerman, An Inbuilt Fault

I hate flat comparison, but this album sounds so much like a Peter Gabriel album. There’s a gracefulness to the experimentation, to the levels and rhythms it finds, changing from song to song, but always somehow of a piece. There’s moments of head swaying coolness and head snapping shock at others. (And yes, I know Gabriel put out new work, but I simply couldn’t get into i/o. There’s no on-ramp to that album.)

Will Westerman says he’s influenced by everything from Nick Drake to Bronski Beat and that’s about as niche a pairing as you could get. Very British, yes. Enduring, yes, to a degree. Again, this goes back to pre-Sledgehammer Gabriel for me and he doesn’t have to say it in interviews for it to be there. (I saw someone say early Sting, and yeah, I get it.)

I don’t say this is accusation. Westerman isn’t a copy, but the stylings are something so unique that I’m almost glad to have someone doing what Gabriel has done, hopeful that someone could follow something of that path, albeit without the flower costumes, ugly breakups, and sudden explosion in popularity that led to withdrawal. We could use more Gabriel albums, and more Westerman albums.

The last thing of note here is the sound. It’s constructed and deserves a close listen. Most people’s best sound system is probably in the car, but Apple’s done so much with AirPods that with the spatial, it might be getting close. I used to have a demo list for new cars, a burned CD that had a variety of things I knew really well, from the way the bass moves on Biggie’s “Hypnotize”, the hidden triangle in Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature” (it’s on the upper left and most tweeters at the time couldn’t reproduce it), and the multitrack mastery of Donald Fagan’s “IGY”. Add this, and Rolling Stones’ new one to that. (Actually, here’s the full playlist, if you’re interested.)

Arkells, Laundry Pile

Still virtually unknown in America, The Arkells are a Canadian treasure. While the fill arenas there, this album was a step back to something more comfortable, more cozy, but just as good as their recent work. This is more coffeehouse music and I wonder if Max, Nick, and the boys are thinking music for a smaller venue might open up some of those venues across America.

Regardless of planning, this album works as a more quiet or less anthemic outing. It’s not sad, not downbeat, just … a different context for what Arkells have done over the last few albums. They went bigger and bigger and sometimes, smaller is nice too. Songs like “Skin” and “Quiet Love” highlight what the band can do in this context, a bit more acoustic, but still very clearly Arkells, and very clearly a nice addition to their setlists.

There’s not much to analyze here. If you like Arkells, you’ll like this. If you don’t know Arkells, this is a pretty good starting spot and you’re welcome if you get to go back and discover their back catalog anew. When they played the Grey Cup halftime a couple years back, they played with The Lumineers. Arkells are simply a better band, more than a one trick pseudo-Mumford act, and they deserve to be more widely heard.

Treaty Oak Revival, Have A Nice Day

I’m a huge fan of Koe Wetzel and yes, Treaty Oak Revival often sounds like Koe Wetzel. Both come from similar backgrounds, if different sides of Texas, but the material and the delivery differ radically and end up in interesting places. Wetzel is the outlaw, the rebel, and as close in attitude to what some though Outlaw Country was, filtered through a youth listening to as much Nirvana as Willie Nelson. Revival is more the friendly local band who you saw before they hit it big, closer to the mainstream for sure, but with the same dual influences in a world gone monoculture.

The whole idea of rock-influenced country isn’t new, but we’re hearing a different version recently. Kids didn’t grow up listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd, at least not at first. Nineties grunge, power pop, and even The Killers Britpop-Americana show up across the spectrum. In the end, it becomes about the songs and how a band like this can pull it off. Revival does it, in spades.

On their second album, Revival sounds rock, but sings country. The lyrics have those smart twists that good country songs have had, along with hooks, solos, and crunching guitars. This is probably your last chance to get behind a Texas band that’s about to break out of the borders. My expectation is we’ll see them open for one of the major adjacent acts and while they might not go Luke Bryan nuclear, a slow burn is something a Texan gets.

Extreme, SIX

Wait, Extreme? The late 80’s hair metal band? I swear, there was a show back like 10 years ago, I think on VH1, where they tried to get bands back together. (Aha, it was called Bands Reunited and it was on VH1 in 2004!) In that, the band did not reunite and seemed to close the door. They had an album in 2008 though and here in 2023, with guitarist Nuno Bettencourt now Rihanna’s touring guitarist, he took the break and wow, I did not expect this. I loved Extreme back in the day. Absolute technicians, fun songs, and near-concepts like Pornograffiti and Three Sides to Every Story were classics of late-stage 80’s metal.

In the age of YouTube, Extreme gave all the guitar vloggers something to scream about, with an absolute face melter of a solo on the first single. Again, this shouldn’t be surprising but it feels like they vanished and in a way they did. Like the Stones, they came back full force and that’s part of the surprise, but the album sustains it. It’s very clearly Extreme - the ripping guitar, the voice that was good enough to be in Van Halen, and even the lovely ballads that made them famous are all here. It’s a tight 40 minute package with no breathers, no filler.

There’s really no “growth”. This is what they used to do, a seeming continuation of 80’s metal, a genre that’s all but dead save the touring classic bands. Yes, there’s metal - lots of death metal, speed metal, whatever you call bands like Mastodon and Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs (who almost made this list) but little like the golden era of the 80’s. Only Metallica gets much commercial attention from new work and even then, it gets pretty complicated with that band as well. You could argue that Wolfgang Van Halen is doing the same thing, or that Sammy Hagar’s Chickenfoot revival Van Halen tour will be big, but Extreme takes this to the, well, extreme. What’s surprising is that it seems so natural and frankly, so good.

And good lord, what is Nuno doing on the solo in “Rise?”