Phoenix, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
– I started this post almost a 7 months ago. It’s tough to see good musc reviews languish in queue for ages. Since I’m in the mood for emancipaton and such, I’m freeing my back log of posts.
Yet another shout out to the MMC folks for sending this along back in Spring. I have a feeling that 2009 will be remembered as the year Minneapolis set all of my trends. When was the last time the Midwest was more progressive than California? Ah yes, Iowa has a little something to say about that… So it goes without saying, that this album is pretty stellar. In an unassumingly stellar way. Some say this would be the French appeal (see exhibits Daft Punk, Air, and Justice ). I say it all started with the end of the Strokes. Well, they never ended, but they faded extraordinarily. In this void of leadership in independent rock, Phoenix arose (yes, I DID get a corny, ubiquitous mythological reference in. I feel the giant hand patting my back). Extremely listenable yet not widely recognized (until an intern at GM went to CMJ and raved about it a little too much at the office). Catchy in the best possible sense. And, they’re French. What else do you need? Apparently not much. Me, I think it is very solid. It lacks a certain silliness that I’m fond of these days. But ultimately, it’s completely worthwhile and will most likely have some staying power. Or at least cause a few “ahh, that takes me back, what a good album”. Most will put this album in their tops of 2009. I may reserve a spot, but it won’t be at the top.
You blink and half a year passes. Worse yet, it takes a long weekend, exposed bone on my shin and a late night to provide the illumination of my priorities in life – eat, sleep, hike (the exposed bone as testament), listen, review. Now I know that this isn’t particularly novel (yeah, I tried the ol’ 
Continuing in my further neglect of actual album review lists for 2009, I choose to propagate badness. As in album artwork. Which never ceases to produce laughter year after year. That moment when someone said “yes, that’s EXACTLY what I want” to bird nest on there forehead will always remind me that artists are a rare breed . My personal favorite happens to be the very first one on the list. Diana, I had to stick it to The Boss. Simply ludacrous. No one’s working on that dream.
Grizzly Bear, Vekatimist
Get Me Bodied by Beyoncé