Does anyone even watch Saturday Night Live any more? SNL used to be appointment television for successive generations of teens and young adults – the demographic (myself included) that would reliably watch TV at 1 am. The secret to the show’s longevity has been Lorne Michaels’ ability to keep reinventing the roster of performers and writers. But obviously, the show goes through peaks and troughs. Instead of recent skits hitting 70% of the time and falling flat 30%, the ratio has flipped. Or sometimes worse.
It probably doesn’t help that a lot of the guest hosts are unfamiliar to the public at large. And the less said about their musical guests of late, the better. Yikes. At this point, I record the show on my PVR and shamelessly skip through all the lameness. “Weekend Update” is usually good for some chuckles, but there are episodes where a whole lot of skipping goes on. If the premise of a skit looks terrible, or if the characters make me want to punch them very hard in the face, I hit the FFWD button. Better to waste 15 minutes of my time than 90.
I think the SNL writers know that the monolith known as “pop culture” has splintered into a thousand pieces. There is no “mainstream” any more. This was perfectly encapsulated by the “Big Hollywood Quiz” sketch a few weeks ago, when Pedro Pascal was the host. It was one of the funnier skits I’ve seen this year, because it revealed a pop culture truth. Everything is “niche” now. With five hundred ways to watch television programs on your own schedule, there is no such thing as “appointment TV”. Same goes for movies – does anyone still go to the sticky-floored theatre to see a new film? The setup of this sketch was a “Jeopardy” style game show with three American entertainment-biz types as the contestants. They were asked a series of questions about movies, TV, etc. The joke was that all three panelists could easily recognize the five biggest grossing movies of 1989, but had absolutely no clue what was in theatres or on Netflix last week. The “mainstream” is dead.
In a world with a thousand satellite radio stations and infinite Spotify streams, we have also witnessed the collapse of “mainstream music”. Records that you and all of your friends buy (or download) are basically non-existent now. You can barely have a water-cooler conversation at work these days about new music, or TV shows, or movies. Nothing cuts across the zeitgeist. I don’t even mention my favourite bands any more, because I already have a lifetime’s supply of blank stares. And the written media – music journalists, newspapers, magazines, etc. – have gotten so lazy and terrible that it’s pointless to seek out their critical recommendations. AI will make this even worse in the coming years. The best you can hope for now is to start with a genre that you know you like, then let The All-Knowing Algorithm introduce you to new sounds.
All of this preamble is a long-winded explanation for why I haven’t blogged in a couple of years. Does anyone really care what the Craven Hermit thought were the best albums last year? Hardly anyone even buys albums any more; virtually everyone has migrated to the cloud. And let’s face it – blogging is “so 2008”. I am still a Luddite that collects records – actual physical media that clutters up my listening room – but for how much longer? And for the love of Gord, if I’ve spent $35 on a poorly-stamped chunk of vinyl covered in cardboard dust, why can’t the record company at least include a free download code? It’s not good enough that I’m single-handedly keeping a dying medium going – now you want me to ALSO pony up $10 on iTunes to buy the mp3s?
That is a rant for another day. I digress.
I’ve been posting my “Best of the Year” album lists since the glorious, early days of online discussion. I can chart my annual favourites back well into the 1990s (fact: I am old). That’s why I now feel obligated to make note of my favourite albums of 2021 and 2022. It appeals to the “completist” part of me that must have ALL of the albums by my favourite artists. Having a gap in my “Best of 20XX” lists would just feel… wrong.
But as always, dear reader, you are under no obligation to read this scribble, let alone follow my recommendations. It will become evident soon enough that I’m hopelessly stuck in my own Forlorn-Dad-Rock niche. Meanwhile, the all-knowing Algorithm will still be there 24/7 to guide you on your journey.
Let us begin.
Craven Hermit’s Favourite Albums of 2021:
Big Colors by Ryan Adams. Whoo – might as well start with something controversial! You might have heard Ryan Adams’ name come up in the news in recent years. Yep, he can apparently be a pretty shitty person from time to time. Drugs and fame will do that to a guy. But damn, can he ever write magnificent songs. So if you can separate the artist from the art, you might have noticed that Adams is experiencing a creative renaissance. He used to blurt out 2-3 albums a year that were sorta crap. Now he’s blurting out 2-3 albums a year that are kinda fantastic! Big Colours is the sound of Ryan Adams returning to his AOR muse with killer tunes.
How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? by Big Red Machine. The first collaboration between The National’s Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon (aka ‘that Bon Iver guy’) went so well, they found a way to do it again mid-pandemic. The new album ropes in a large array of guest vocalists and performers, with predictably mixed results. I find the album as a whole is a little too eclectic, an inevitable by-product of their kitchen-sink approach. But when it’s good, it’s pretty great. And if the album helps a few Swifties retroactively learn about their parents’ record collections, then so be it.
Screen Violence by Chvrches. Yet another lovely album from the ever-dependable Glaswegian synth-poppers, this time with a noticeable hint of LA production sheen. One of those rare albums with nary a bad track on it.
Flying Dream 1 by Elbow. Somehow these fellows keep making interesting and emotional albums, perfect for unwinding in an easy chair on a Sunday afternoon. Proving once again that the epithet “dad rock” doesn’t have to be a put-down.
Flat White Moon by Field Music. The adjective “quirky” pops up a lot in respect to Field Music, as they reliably make albums that draw musical stylings from pop, indie rock, and a smattering of psychedelia. Flat White Moon is one of their better efforts to date – hooky and surprising in equal measure.
Open Door Policy by The Hold Steady. If I’m honest, Open Door Policy isn’t the greatest album in the Hold Steady canon. It would be tough for any band to match their purple patch from Separation Sunday to Stay Positive. But it is pretty great to hear a few new cautionary tales from the broken characters inhabiting the twisted mind of Craig Finn.
Raise the Roof by Alison Krauss and Robert Plant. Another “second collaboration” makes my list, and deservedly so. Coming more than a decade after the first Krauss and Plant cross-pollination of styles, it’s great to hear them firing on all cylinders again. Raise the Roof is a collection of expertly curated country-folk-roots tunes that is just as enjoyable as its highly-touted predecessor – perhaps even more so. And once again, T-Bone Burnett’s unmistakable production stitches things together.
Dark In Here by The Mountain Goats. Another year, another glorious Mountain Goats album. John Darnielle is nothing if not prolific. The album’s title might hint at closed-down introspection, but there’s something curiously uplifting about the melodies on Dark In Here. Miles away from Maroon 5, obviously, but the album’s song cycle plays around with colours and shades in enjoyable fashion.
I Don’t Live Here Anymore by The War on Drugs. I was lucky enough to catch this crew at the Edmonton Folk Festival this past summer. Their languid, well-constructed tunes are perfect for sitting on a hill at sunset, enjoying the groove. I think they may have set the all-time Folk Festival record for “most guitar solos in one 75-minute set”. In a good way!
Strike Me Down by Whitehorse. Luke Doucet and Melissa McLelland have been keeping busy of late, releasing roughly an album a year through the pandemic. And yet quality hasn’t suffered at all. Strike Me Down strikes just the right balance of classic songwriting and modern production, drawing in the listener with throbbing bass lines, twangy electric guitars, and hooks galore.
And without further ado, my Favourite Albums of 2022:
Devolver by Ryan Adams. Jeez, again with this guy? As hinted above, Adams is crawling from the wreckage of the last decade by re-embracing his songwriting muse. Newly sober, he sounds like he’s genuinely enjoying writing about his experiences. Devolver is a strikingly good album of honest, suburban rock music. And if you really want to hear what the super-depressed and introspective side of him sounds like – well, there’s about three new albums of those songs available as well!
Dropout Boogie by The Black Keys. If you keep hoping for the Black Keys to make a synth-pop record or dabble in hip-hop, well… keep hoping. They do blues rock and they do it very, very well. Dropout Boogie isn’t quite as meat & potatoes (drums & guitars) as some of their earlier efforts. Much like on 2019’s Let’s Rock, Dan Auerbach and Pat Carney have found clever ways to add multi-tracked vocals and the occasional snatches of synths to their basic blueprint. The tightness and focus of the songs is what sets the band, and this excellent new album, apart from their peers. Like AC/DC or ZZ Top before them, they have created and perfected their own sub-genre of music.
Into The Blue by Broken Bells. I’m always up for a musical collaboration between The Shins’ mastermind James Mercer and production whiz Danger Mouse. I’m happy to report that their third volume of songs together as Broken Bells is possibly their best effort yet. Melodic, wistful, modern, and playful in equal measure.
Extreme Witchcraft by Eels. Eels front-man Mark Oliver Everett (aka the Man Called ‘E’) often chastises himself on stage for playing too much “bummer rock”. And Gord knows that there are some extremely harrowing and melancholy songs in his back-catalogue. Which is why it’s always great to hear ‘E’ have a little fun, as on Extreme Witchcraft. It’s playful, scrappy, and soulful without wandering so far from the Eels blueprint that they can’t find their way home. “Better Living Through Desperation”, indeed.
Will Of The People by Muse. It’s yet another Muse album! Angular guitars? Check. Snappy synths and arpeggiated bass lines? Check. Thumping drums? Oh yeah. Overwhelming sense that the zeitgeist is fucked? Yup! But the melodies and rhythms and performances are, as always, effortlessly brilliant. So even though you’ve been here before, you should buckle in and enjoy the ride anyway.
Above Cirrus by Pure Reason Revolution. After about a decade of inactivity, it’s so great to see my favourite early-2000s space-rock band getting back to making albums. 2020’s Eupnea was very enjoyable; Above Cirrus is an even stronger return to form. Pitched somewhere between Muse’s guitar crunch and Pink Floyd’s somnambulant melodic lines, these seven new tunes take the listener on an epic musical journey. Pour a glass of whiskey, turn down the lights, turn up the volume to 11, and rip off the knob.
A Light For Attracting Attention by The Smile. While the world waits with bated breath for the next Radiohead album, this side-project will tide us over in surprisingly strong fashion. Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood spent their time in epidemic lockdown bashing around some musical ideas with their pal Tom Skinner on drums. As always, Nigel Godrich manned the sliders and transmogrified their ideas onto various hard drives. And lo, an album emerged. To be clear, this isn’t a Radiohead LP; to my ears it’s missing the secret sauce of Ed’s rhythm guitars and vocals and Colin’s bass. And not surprisingly, Skinner’s drums are decidedly jazzier and busier than Beatmaster Phil on the kit. But the songs are mostly great, and it’s fun to hear Thom and Jonny taking a busman’s holiday and experimenting a little.
Lucifer On The Sofa by Spoon. I honestly don’t think that Spoon is capable of making a bad album. It’s borderline ridiculous, but every LP they have released since the turn of the millennium has been exceptional. Even though Britt Daniels reportedly pulled up stakes and moved from LA back to Austin before writing Lucifer, the new songs on the band’s 10th LP fit seamlessly alongside former glories. Those that continue to predict “the death of guitar rock” really ought to hear this record.
Cruel Country by Wilco. I have to admit, I was really worried about Wilco for a number of years. After morphing into a fearless amalgam of alternative rock and country-folk in the early 2000s, Jeff Tweedy and his minstrels seemed to run out of steam part-way through Star Wars. Highlights on Schmilco and the inaccurately-named Ode to Joy were few and far between, and I began to think that Tweedy’s muse was gone for good. Which is why it’s a relief to hear Wilco revisit their heyday on Cruel Country, a double-album of “dad rock” largely filtered through an unabashed alt-country lens. Not coincidentally, it sounds once again like a “band record” and not just the fellows backing up Tweedy on demand. It may not scratch your ears with face-melting guitar solos or abrasive keyboard patches, and I dearly miss that prog-rock energy that illuminated YHF and A Ghost Is Born. That aside, Cruel Country is the sound of a sextet that once again sound like they’re living in each others’ dusty pockets.
The Overload by Yard Act. It can be tough to find exciting new sounds in today’s “all niche” musical landscape, but somehow I came across the darlings of the UK indie music scene in early 2022. Seeming to emerge fully-formed out of nowhere as the epidemic waned, these post-punkers from Leeds have introduced a few modern ideas to the classic fare purveyed by Pulp and The Fall. Sardonic vocals are met with angular guitars at every turn, and musical inspiration reigns supreme. It will be interesting to see where Yard Act chooses to go from here, but The Overload is a promising debut effort. Now if only I could find it on vinyl; it’s rarer than hen’s teeth in North America. Thankfully, I’m planning a trip to the UK and Europe for later this year; stay tuned for details on that!
And there you have it – the Craven Hermit’s favourite albums of the past couple of years. I promise to check back in with y’all more often from now on. And if you’d like to hear me pontificate about my other hobbies of late – most notably, camping across western Canada – just drop me a line.
Craven Hermit 