2022, I think, has been a difficult year for many of
us. I cannot imagine how difficult the
past few years have been for musicians with the closures and shut downs taking
away essentially every opportunity to perform and share their art or even
create it.My goal in sharing the music
I love with as much gusto as I have is to celebrate it!Not just those that I champion here, but all
of it.I admire the effort and passion
to not only have the talent and creativity and vision to make music, but to
also bring it to the public for those of us who struggle to make things
happen.Considering all of the
obstacles, 2022 has been as vibrant and exciting as any other year in music.These choices below are an approximation of
what I believe my most listened to albums of the year have been.
There are those times in High School
and college, or thereabouts, where most of us start our search for how we want
to be identified. Identity is important
to us when we’re young, because we don’t know what we are. We’ve been told how to be by our authority
figures, but at some point, we begin to question things and try to understand
what type of person we want to be. It’s
an exciting and dramatic time, because it feels lonely to search for meaning
and direction and exciting, because there’s so much opportunity and
discovery. Oftentimes, the music we
develop a taste for becomes a tangible source of community. We begin to gravitate to others who like
similar things. We change our look and
adopt new personas to fit in with a new clique or scene. Sometimes it can go deep and it is all very
serious and very important.
Now that I’m old, I am both mystified
by it all, and I miss the promise of those days. I never really felt like I found a niche when
I was young, because I really never wanted to fit in. I did desperately, but at the same time, was
mostly content with being by myself. It
was a time of being sad, because I was lonely, and yet never comfortable with
others – especially in groups. I do,
however, miss how fired up I would get when I ran across new music that I felt
an affinity for. That felt like
home. That spoke to me. That taught me. That helped me not feel so alone. Music still does these things for me. I still get energized when I run across music
that fits into my narrow-ish tastes.
However, most of those harken back to those earlier times. They are nostalgic, even if they are new and
by younger artists.
Having said that, within the last few
years, I have learned about Portland’s own Soft
Kill. They are fantastic! They exude that perfect band for young
discovery. At least that’s what I think
and feel when I hear them. They write
songs that remind me of “In-Between Days” Cure,
that are a bit more “street,” yet which are genuinely sad and reflective, and
yet incredibly catchy earworms that can fill one with energy and a real passion
and angst.
Soft Kill’s latest offering is Canary
Yellow. I originally got sucked into their energy
with their previous proper LP, Dead Kids
R.I.P. City, from 2020. Yes, they
remind me of younger days, and I’m okay with that. I listened to Dead Kids a lot and reveled into those old angsty feelings. It reminded me how important those times were
and thankful that most of those old anxieties became meaningless to me
now. Don’t get me wrong. My anxieties are numerous – just different. Canary
Yellow is very similar to the previous album with songs full of an
energized sadness that are absolutely tuneful.
I mean, this is a fun and enjoyable listen no matter what.
Songwriter, Tobias Grave, has a knack for catchy melodies. The pre-LP single “Magic Garden” with its
acoustic strums and hummable guitar and keyboard melody should be heard by a
wider audience, or the endlessly addictive tune that is “Rocks & Blows,”
will creep into one’s head and stay there, in a good way. The piano anointed “Domino” is another
favorite with its inherent drama that hints of the magnificent Stars at their best. The ballad, “The Line” sung by Ruth Radelet formerly of another
long-time Portland stalwart, Chromatics,
is a touching moment of loss and heartbreak, as well as sweet moment of
variety. I love the police station free
phone message that is “Joey,” which opens the album and provides the title, and
the epic album closer, “Lake Shore Drive,” with its music box like piano melody
crossed with a “Love in a Car”-esque high end guitar atmospherics, is dreamy
and momentous.
The entire damn album passes by too
quickly. Lucky for all of us, we can
play it over and over again, which I will continue to do.
