Reviews

First, the details. Here’s a partial list of artists with records on which saxophonist Scott Robinson has appeared: Ella Fitzgerald, Sting, Elton John and John Scofield. In 2001, Robinson was named a jazz ambassador by the U.S. State Department. Over his career, he has received a total of four fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Now, to bassist Ken Filiano. In addition to teaching master classes in bass and improv, he also owns a Bachelor of Music degree in Double Bass from Syracuse University. Within the avant-garde jazz world, he is one of the most in-demand players and while he hasn’t been part of as many Grammy Award-winning recordings as Robinson has, he’s been doing studio work for more than 30 years.

And then there’s … Jeff Cosgrove. The local jazz drumming powerhouse is coming off two tremendously impressive sets, 2015’s “Conversations With Owls” and 2014’s “Alternating Current.” While the former featured a fantastically innovative take on Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “My Favorite Things,” the latter showcased “Bridges Of Tomorrow,” a sprawlingly ambitious opus that clocked in at about 38 minutes. All told, if his previous work hadn’t done so, those releases alone established the drummer as a local musical heavyweight.

So, combine the three, and what do you get? “Hunters & Scavengers,” the first release in Grizzley Music’s new digital series. Not only is it just so damn good, but it also marks the first time this trio of title-holders has been on a record together. Throw in an Ornate Coleman classic — the album-closing “Lonely Woman” — and the result is 10 tracks of Cosgrove’s most varied (if not best) work to date.

Proof of that is found in “High, Low.” Making his name by being as obtuse and abstract as possible, this is the first time in Cosgrove’s last three records that he … wait for it … swings, even if it is the tinniest bit. Sure, he wouldn’t dare allow the groove to hold for too long, but it’s refreshing to hear someone typically so challenging appear so accessible. Or, well, relatively accessible, at least.

Just as memorable is “Don’t Look (Just Run),” which often dips into sounding like the vision of a spastic bee navigating its way through blades of grass. Cosgrove’s sprinting cymbal work catches the curiosity while Filiano and Robinson combine for a delicious undertone of tension as the track buzzes itself through the finish line. It’s exhilarating in all the right ways.

Speaking of Filiano and Robinson, though, they each get ample time to shine in the back-to-back showcase of “Rays Of Dawn” and “Simple Justification.” Slowed down and gorgeous, “Rays” grants Robinson the space to stretch out his emotive playing, sustaining layered notes beyond atypical parameters. The conversation between him and his fellow players is stunningly subdued, a melting of classicism and patience that grants the production an impressive amount of levity.

“Justification,” meanwhile, allows Filiano an ominous turn at about the minute-and-a-half mark, his voice moving with purpose and grace — especially when he runs up and down the instrument with admirable pacing. Another twist comes when the band rejoins him, only to settle into some semblance of a pop groove, be it for a measure or three. Toe-tapping is usually not synonymous with Jeff Cosgrove records, and while you still have to think about which toe you want to tap, it’s the closest he’s ever come to settling in.

Besides, when you have the ferocity and ambiguity of “Instinct,” a quick 39-second blast of sound, energy and vigor, you can afford to ever-so-slightly dip a toe into more structured seas. Ditto for opener “Eyes Of The Hunter,” which kicks things off in usual Cosgrove style — a flurry of syncopated rolls underneath long, sustaining notes from his peers — and announces the set with proper pretense.

Yet with “Hunters & Scavengers,” that pretense goes down a little smoother than it did previously. Cosgrove, Filiano and Robinson are all top-shelf players, and combined, they bring out a level of comfort in each other that hasn’t been heard on Cosgrove’s recent work. It’s enlivening to hear such fascinating musical minds combine to create such timeless work.

Needless to say, if Cosgrove’s been hunting all this time, it looks like his days of scavenging ought to soon be coming to an end.

*** 3 1/2 STARS OUT OF 4 ***

“Hey Josh, it’s Crystal at the Herald-Mail … I was wondering, maybe, if you could give me a call today. I know you’re going to be part of the Boondocks Festival, and I can’t get any of the big celebrities … .”

And that’s where the clip cuts off — but only before the words “big celebrities” repeat themselves incessantly, eventually fading into nothingness. It introduces “Haggard and Hank,” the final song on Josh Morningstar’s “Whole Lotta Crazy.” The soundbite’s placement could be a lot of things, but it’s easiest to label the message as a shot: “You, Mr. Morningstar, are not a celebrity … and we don’t really think you’ll ever be a celebrity … and if any of the actual celebrities wanted to talk to us, we would not be talking to you … but … .”

Sure, the Crystal in question most likely never meant much harm. But when you’re a musician, a chip on a shoulder is as common as a broken guitar string on a basement floor. It’s clear the voicemail left a mark on the Hagerstown country music artist, and when you have as many marks as Morningstar has accrued through the years — drug addiction, heartbreak, jail stints — it’s hard to blame him for calling her out. After all, his defiant self-awareness is perhaps his best tool.

And, much to the delight of many a Morningstar fan, it’s all over “Whole Lotta Crazy.” Take “Damn These Birds,” which features a laundry list of drugs as lyrics over a lazy country-western groove tailor-made for the shadiest of honky-tonks. Swinging with a tasteful electric guitar and Morningstar’s understated, thin vocals, it turns out to be one of the funniest moments of the record, a tale of hazy vignettes that illustrate the singer’s darker days (or should that be daze?). It’s both endearingly light-hearted and deliciously self-revealing.

Kind of like the title track, which is the best song here. Taking half a page from the bro-country that has infiltrated pop radio in recent years, the song is driven forward by a simple backbeat that almost never stops, even when everything else around it does. In its own way, it’s anthemic, made for county fairgrounds filled with patrons who fancy a concert only once a year and are ready to stomp and clap upon request. Above all, it’s the most accessible the songwriter gets, his taste for sugar overriding any other potential palate passion.

Getting quiet serves him well, too. “Melody” is pretty and delicate and when Morningstar hits the line, “You took everything that’s ever meant everything to me” while the track winds down, it’s hard not to feel him pour each inch of his soul into what he’s doing. “Hangovers and Heartbreaks” is similar in texture but more yesteryear-Nashville than modern-day-Austin, its sadness piercing through with a line like, “I drank my breakfast this morning just like my dinner last night.” For a recovering addict, he sure knows how to make a lack of sobriety feel intensely sobering.

Perhaps the most unexpected takeaway here is the singer’s similarity to another hard-living producer/songwriter Butch Walker. “Miss Bobbie Jo” is jangly to the point that you might even be able to call it pop-reggae. The only thing keeping that from happening is the pedal steel that peeks its head in and out of the proceedings — a trick Walker perfected years ago when he ditched the glam and took up the denim. “Cryin Eyes Of Blue” echoes the same approach, a (somewhat) steady kick drum anchoring the feel as an acoustic guitar helps listeners get out of their respective seats.

As far as traditional country music goes, however, “Drivin Nails In My Coffin” ramps up the tempo and dusts the cowboy boots off in the same way traditionalists such as … well … Haggard and Hank would be known to do from time to time. “I’m just drivin nails in my coffin/Every time I drink a bottle of booze/I’m just drivin nails in my coffin/I’m drivin them nails over you,” the chorus explains before our main character shouts solos to his cohorts. It’s ruckus, it’s fun, it’s authentic and it’s a welcome shout to the roots that helped spawn a singer/songwriter such as this.

And thank God they did. Because despite his best efforts, Josh Morningstar has become one of the premiere artists in the Hagerstown/Frederick area, if only for his ability to palpably portray his past in ways that must be equally therapeutic and tempting. So, here’s hoping he can keep his “Whole Lotta Crazy” in check as he moves forward. Because if he does, he might one day be the big celebrity refusing to return the Herald-Mail’s request for an interview.

*** 3 STARS OUT OF 4 ***

“Real question: What bands have you discovered by staring at a patch on the back of someone’s jacket at a show?”

That’s a tweet and it came from the Washington Post’s Music Writer Du Jour Chris Richards only a couple weeks ago. It’s an intriguing concept for those of us who have been to a considerable amount of shows. Sometimes, we take the patches we see for granted, dismissing them as another glob of color taking up space in front of us as we focus on whatever musical act plugs in. Sometimes, though, we see the patch and think, “Hmm. Maybe I’ll check that out.”

Why wax poetic on patches? Because local punk-poppers Cosmic Halitosis feels exactly like a band that deserves its own patch. Driven by adrenaline, piss, vinegar, sweat and angst, this power trio deserves space on the back of an entire jean jacket with its debut LP, “Where Is She?” To say that these 10 songs are in your face is kind of like saying the music space at Guido’s hasn’t run a sweeper across its floor since 1985. The obvious is only half the story.

As for the other half … well, it’s unapologetically fierce. Opener “Shead” announces the group as accurate as any first line of a record in recent memory when singer Matt Henry proclaims, “I’m a shead and a half, I guess I’ve always been that way.” It’s offered on top of a clean guitar that feels like it came straight from an early Foo Fighters b-side. Naturally, it eventually explodes into the type of grunge that Dave Grohl’s other band helped invent, and yet when it does, it simmers down nicely, opting to end the track instead of fleshing the idea out further with verses and choruses.

It’s a trick Cosmic Halitosis perfects throughout the set and it ultimately heightens the anticipation for each venture coming around the bend. The other profanely titled song, “Mr. Ahole,” stands its ground more impressively, considering how it lacks the musical fervor of its closest rival. The chillest these guys get, the song echoes a Seattle band like Harvey Danger as it leans heavily on the type of bass guitar textures that are synonymous with the blend of slacker rock that dominated the world more than two decades ago. Bonus points go to Henry for his fearlessness in stretching his vocals to inventive lengths while the track’s first half unfolds. It would have been a slam dunk on WHFS.

And yet it isn’t entirely representative of the band. Instead, that award goes to songs like “STFU (Please)” and “Never Getting Outta Bed Again.” Curiously sharing an almost identical lead guitar riff as Max Detrich’s combustible drums blast both tracks into space, they are the epitome of what makes this collection a must-have for poppers and punkers alike. Clocking in at a crisp 1:40, the former is a declaration of demand, the NSFW hook proving to be as defiant as it is antagonistic, while the latter utilizes a catchy burst of electrified six-string before the verses commence. Sure, the songs are similar, but why fix what’s not broken?

Especially when it leads to “Intergalactic Infidelity,” which is both the set’s finale and its best song. Calmed down just enough not to alienate the mohawks — but rockin’ enough not to alienate the plaid shirts — it’s the moment where everything comes together. Complete with Henry’s signature sugary vocal manipulations, it rocks back and forth between a tempo cut in half and a tempo that drives forward, all beneath some killer shredding from the leader’s guitar once the middle section comes around. And … wait … is that a theremin!?! Sure sounds like it, and man, these guys instantly add about 500 cool points to whatever they have going on because of it.

The only thing revoking those points? The questionable first few notes of both “Cosmic Queen” and “Bid Adieu.” While this trio makes its bones rocking harder than anyone around, the acoustic textures that paint the beginnings of these two tracks feel shoehorned into the fabric of the production. It’s easy to understand why they would be looking for dynamism, but getting soft for the sake of getting soft doesn’t always translate well when your forte is pure, unadulterated belligerence. Or, in other words, go hard or go home — even if going hard in this context means fully committing to slowing down for the entirety of a song. Here, the moves feel token.

Still, such bellyaching is rendered moot when considering “Where Is She?” as a whole. Brazen in its delivery, profane in its soul, and unrepentant at its core, this collection takes no prisoners and gives less than a hoot about names. More importantly, it captures the naivety of inspiration and the arrogance of youth in ways that aren’t often seen in rock music anymore, cementing the fact that these songs combine to form one gigantic breath of fresh air.

Or, for that matter, one gigantic patch on the back of a sleeveless blue jean jacket somewhere in the back of a bar.

*** 3 STARS OUT OF 4 ***

 

“This EP is dedicated to the fight. Whatever your fight may be, you will persevere.”

That passage is printed on the inside of Atomic 26’s latest EP, creatively titled, “The EP.” If such a passage exists to embody five songs of music, that’s as good as any — at least for this body of work, which feels like the sonic equivalent of … well … fighting the good fight. Aggressive in nature and assertive in tone, this set is filled with double kick-drum patterns, earnestly metal-tastic growls and a shredding guitar that takes no prisoners in its execution.

Yet even with that considered, what makes “The EP” so lasting is its pristine production. Recorded at Antithesis Studio in Sabillasville, this looks, feels and smells like a big-time recording. Heavy music can so often be watered down by lackluster production, the bass not chugging the way it should and the vocals not dominating as much as they need to in order for the music to get the listener’s best shot. Here, though, the performances are spotless, the end product impeccable.

All that begins with “Relentless.” Stepping to the plate with only guitar and vocals, it instantly grabs your attention because of how menacing everything sounds. When the vocals expand from simply scary to downright demented, you know you’re in for a treat, especially considering how taxing such an approach to vocals can be. Sprinkle in a desolate palm-muted rock guitar middle section and the anticipation rises with each note. Once the rest of the band returns to the party with an inescapable six-string riff, all bets are off on how irresistible this stuff can be.

Which is why there’s so much to value here. Like the crunchy radio rock best heard from bands like Breaking Benjamin or Three Days Grace? Check “Substrate,” which is relatively tame when compared with its brethren. Featuring a mid-tempo alt-rock groove, this isn’t not something you could hear on DC 101 some day. Not only is the screaming half-abandoned, but the chorus opens up in ways that ought to make you nostalgic for the late-‘90s music festival scene.

How about something a little heavier, made for the side stage at Ozzfest? “Circle” might be for you, with its pugnacious vocals ticking up the angst ever so slightly. Better yet is the double-kick drum that paints the chorus, anchoring the chaos that’s unfolding around it, the singer exploding in rage before a smooth bridge takes hold and calms the production down. By the time the pedal pounding returns to close out the track, you’ll need to regroup with a long, well-earned exhale.

Even that pales in comparison, however, to the final song here, “Wrongway.” The set’s clear crescendo, it furthers the narrative that these guys chose the track-listing smartly, seemingly building to an explosion of a finale that leaves it all on the stage without a single ounce of energy left unused. Bursting through the door with a punk-rock tempo, the growls feel more worn and the guitars more assured before the halfway point changes everything on a dime, trading punk for rock in the way the genre used to before Fall Out Boy came along and messed it up for everybody.

And then there’s “Harder They Fall,” which is, without question, the poppiest these guys get. Thundering drums and a simple guitar riff can take you a long, long way, and this trio utilizes that notion to its fullest extent, crafting a song that should make early-era Papa Roach proud. “Never back down,” you hear in effects-laden vocals during the hook and the lyric cements this band and these songs as the ultimate inspirational, seize-the-day combination, tight, crunchy guitars and all.

Those words also reiterate the relevance of the opening mantra: “This EP is dedicated to the fight. Whatever your fight may be, you will persevere.” Cliched? Maybe. But with “The EP,” Atomic 26 establishes itself as a band that practices what it preaches. Unapologetically antagonistic and deliciously energetic, these are songs built for Soldierfit classes everywhere — hard enough to keep your endorphins flowing and stubborn enough to ensure you never give up.

Fighting the good fight, indeed.

** 2 1/2 STARS OUT OF 4 **

Can you believe we’ve been doing this since 2011?! Notice both the exclamation point and the question mark, combining for double enthusiasm. Indeed, this is the seventh year-end list I’ve compiled for 72 Hours/Frederick News-Post/Frederick Playlist/my own damn archives. I say that last part, of course, because I know nobody’s reading. But I digress.

2017 was quite the year in music (at least for me, as I wound up in a band called DoubleMotorcycle — shameless plug fully acknowledged). It was a particularly great year for R&B on a national scale, which means a lot to me. And as for things that aren’t so national … well, we debuted the Frederick Playlist podcast this year, as well as a video series called Frederick One Take (to access that, you must go to the World Wide Internet), and those things have been a lot of fun. We also continued the Frederick Music Showcase (coming back at you, Feb. 15!), and The Thing (coming back at you … hopefully).

Yes, it was quite the 12 months, and now we have an opportunity to look back. What does that mean? Well, it means that I revisit all the records we reviewed in 2017 (yes, I know some of these were released in 2016, but hey — our catalog is backed up!), and pick my favorite local songs of the year. Why songs? Because, as I always explain, there are many more local songs from which to choose than there are local albums. Variety, friends. That’s what we’re looking for.

And so we stand: My 10 favorite local songs, picked from all the albums reviewed for The FNP in 2017, as well as my 10 favorite national albums and 10 favorite national songs. Debate them. Hate them. Ridicule them. Make fun of them. Smile at them. Throw tomatoes at them. It’s all in good fun. Except for those who take it wayyyyy too seriously — I mean, honestly, dudes: Settle down.

So. A Happy New Year to all, and to all, a good night. Now, let’s go.

LOCAL

10. The Fun Boys — “Boringville”

Perhaps Frederick’s most eclectic rock band, The Fun Boys have been turning heads with their live show for months, but it wasn’t until 2017 that we finally received a studio effort from the quartet. And while “Boringville” might be the simplest of the bunch lyrically, the music, structure and attitude of it vaguely recalls Frank Zappa, which is a compliment not handed out regularly. “Nobody loves me,” lead singer Sam Whalen insists through the track’s second verse, yet with songs like these, hate couldn’t be further away from the proceedings.

9. Miss Lonelyheart — “A Call”

From the band’s first EP in more than 15 years, Miss Lonelyheart came back better than ever with the three-song “Ordinary Living,” a release no less memorable for its lack of length. Better yet, “A Call” harkens back to when Chicago pop-punk flirted with the mainstream on a daily basis, allowing a band like Spitalfield to sell tens of thousands of records. Propelled by an inescapable chorus, check the most grin-tastic moment of the song when the bridge appears and the whisper of “Swing to the rhythm, to the beat, to the rhythm/Swing to the rhythm, to the rhythm, to the beat” takes hold. It will make you want to renew that subscription to Alternative Press pronto.

8. Hard Swimmin’ Fish — “No Shortage Of The Blues”

For being around as long as Hard Swimmin’ Fish have been around, it’s a wonder that they don’t churn out records every couple years. And yet, they don’t, which means whenever they do, we oughta listen. This, off their most recent excellent release, “True Believer,” is quintessential Fish: jangly harmonica on top of lazy, bluesy, funky guitar and Waverly Milor’s uniquely gruff vocals. Plus, once guitarist Demian Lewis gets to shreddin,’ you can practically feel the blues leap from the speakers and into your soul. It’s like walking down Bourbon Street in the middle of July — the atmosphere sticky, the mood sweaty, and the music sincere. No shortage of the blues, indeed.

7. Mr. Husband — “Can’t Sleep”

It’s just so … beautiful. The brainchild of Kenny Tompkins, he of New God and Yellow K Records fame, Mr. Husband uses Tompkins’ Brian Wilson instinct and indie rock upbringing to craft the prettiest song Frederick heard in 2017. Though he amassed a killer band behind him for the project, the singer flies largely solo here, his angelic, layered vocals translating into a bed of feathers for the listener. With barely more than a quiet acoustic guitar filling out the canvas, this is the perfect piece of sound to help get you to sleep … as you listen to someone else’s battle with insomnia. Ironic? Yes. But Mr. Husband wouldn’t have it any other way.

6. Middle Kid — “Black Out”

Zack Willis sure knows how to craft some serious angst-rock, and this, the epic centerpiece of his debut EP, “Yeah, Sure,” is Middle Kid at its most dynamic, its most memorable. Eased in by grunge-d out electric guitar, Willis begins telling the tale of a wasted night with his quirky, emotive voice, eventually landing on a line like, “The incredible string band/Delivers its melody/Haunting at half-speed.” Foreboding? For sure. And this is all before the band explodes into a furry of rock that borrows as much from Pixies as it does Pearl Jam. Getting the spins never sounded so inspiring.

5. Cheshi — “Thank You”

2017 was a breakout year for Cheshi as they released their debut EP, played the Weinberg Center as part of the Frederick Music Showcase and established themselves as one of the premier music acts Frederick has to offer. This, the opening track off that aforementioned debut EP, is the most exercised song of the set, rising up with angst throughout each hook and mellowing out with grace as the verses unfold. Ashli Cheshire has the most moody, trance-like voice in town these days and each note that escapes her mouth is shrouded in atmosphere. Not only does it impress; it leaves impressions. And lasting ones, at that.

4. Gloop — “I Heard Her Talkin’“

Perhaps the most intense local album of 2017, Gloop’s five-song EP, “Junk Drawer,” produced a wicked shot of adrenaline impossible to ignore and imperative to turn up from front to back. This, the best, most defining moment of the record, sums up the trio perfectly, spotlighting dynamism in the verses and aggression in the choruses. From the buried vocals to the driving drums to the petulant guitars, this is local hard rock at its finest, most ominous. Turn the lights off, turn the music up and let it all out.

3. Karen Jonas — “Ophelia”

Karen Jonas can do no wrong, and with “Country Songs,” the anticipated follow-up to 2014’s brilliant “Oklahoma Lottery,” she proved once again that hers is an essential voice in local music. “Ophelia” is the best example of as much, Jonas showcasing her signature snark and top-shelf storytelling by way of advice for what may or may not be a daughter figure. She’s never been one to put up with crap of any kind, and her advice here is equally poignant and imperative — most notably when she advises her mentee to take a deep breath. Combine that with Tim Bray’s excellent honkytonk guitar work and Jonas scores another undeniable hit.

2. Christian Lopez — “1972”

From the only album to receive four stars in the 72 Hours/Frederick Playlist pages, Christian Lopez’s “Red Arrow,” comes a shot of Southern-pop-rock-soul that’s as irresistible as it is comforting. There’s just something about the woolly production that makes this one of the year’s best songs, matching the Band-lite approach with the same type of recording ethos only really found in Nashville these days. Add in a B-3 Hammond and a quirky breakdown for a bridge and you have the best song that a year like … well … 1972 never heard.

1. Fractal Cat — “Streets Are Burning”

This Baltimore collective went from Beatles-esque retro-fitted Brit-pop to slinky, sweaty, horn-filled soul-funk between 2014’s “Lovingkind” and 2017’s “The Tower,” and man, did that step do them well. This, a slightly more epic, funky track than the group’s other candidate for Song Of The Year, “The Tower,” is a tour de force through everything that made their 2017 set so memorable: Spectacularly soulful drum work, powerhouse horns that give the song character, confidently light vocals, and some serious guitar shredding.

… And that’s only for the first half! Just when things seem to settle down, a second movement unfolds with Mary-eL scatting beneath a deliciously lazy groove and the whole thing blasts into a higher stratosphere. Two-stepping their way to the finish line, that warm horn section provides a fun backbone while handclaps emerge to kick up the party. “We need an answer, not a new excuse,” Keith Jones asserts at the end of the first verse, before concluding, “We’ve got to end this culture of abuse.” Looking back on 2017, there isn’t a more apt lyric in all of local music.

NATIONAL ALBUMS

10. The Killers — “Wonderful Wonderful”

Going the route of Train and … well … pretty much every other pop rock band that has experienced a lull in popularity after a string of hits, The Killers have downsized and essentially become The Brandon Flowers Show. But that’s OK, considering how much fun “Wonderful Wonderful” is. “The Man” is the 2017 version of Peter Gabriel’s “Big Time” and the title track drives with a menacing bass line and drum pattern that suggests a rock harder than they’ve called upon previously. And “Some Kind Of Love” is a blend of beauty last seen in 1988. Nearly 30 years later, these guys make it sound as gorgeous as ever.

9. Starsailor — “All This Life”

Yeah, make fun of me for this, but honestly: After breaking up for a handful of years, nobody really thought Starsailor would ever matter enough to make a comeback, let alone sound this good while doing it. A more diverse band now, the Wigan lads get groovier than ever (see “Take A Little Time” and “Caught In The Middle”) and experiment with textures darker than even they have seen before (“Fall Out”). Plus, once you realize what “FIA” means, you’ll have a chuckle yourself. Even so, take notice: The notion that “All This Life” could be one of the year’s best is no laughing matter.

8. Sampha — “Process”

It won the Mercury Prize this year and for good reason: The debut LP from Sampha is simply one of the most promising releases an R&B artist has released in a long, long time. “(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano” is quite literally the saddest song of 2017 as the singer sits with — surprise! — nothing but a piano and pulls on all the heart strings with the help of sparse production and that outrageously solemn croon. “Blood On Me” then gets up to get down, a funky backbeat leading the way, and opener “Plastic 100°C” has a hook that will take a lobotomy to get out of your head. If there’s only one new artist from 2017 you pick to check out, it’s gotta be Sampha.

7. Jay-Z — “4:44”

You knew Jay couldn’t not make an album like this, right? The extended apologies to Beyonce were both expected and affecting — the title track is almost uncomfortable with how raw it feels at first glance and “I’ll f— up a good thing if you let me/Leave me alone, Becky” from “Family Feud” is both defiant and hilarious — but it’s his reflection on other issues that ultimately lands like glitter to a glue stick. “The Story Of O.J.” comments on continued racial inequality in a world where so many insist things are getting better and “Kill Jay Z” is as humble as the guy has ever sounded on record, more than two decades into a career that has dominated hip-hop in a way like none other has before it. I saw him in D.C. a month ago on this album’s tour and it had been years since he sounded as inspired as he did then. Such motivation is captured brilliantly throughout all of “4:44.”

6. Kendrick Lamar — “Damn.”

He’s the most important rapper today and it’s not close. It’s hard enough to craft one classic, like he did with 2015’s “To Pimp A Butterfly,” but you reach entirely new heights if you come back and do it again, only two years later. And not only did he do that with “Damn.,” but Lamar also did it while expanding his palate to become as accessible as he became, brilliantly combining his conscious-heavy storytelling with production that isn’t not made to dominate clubs. Check the Rihanna collab “Loyalty” for proof of that. And while “Humble” might be anything but, it’s still one of the most unforgettable songs of 2017, no matter the genre. If dude somehow one-ups himself again in 2019, he might just kill hip-hop.

5. Somi — “Petite Afrique”

Shame on you for not going to see this angelic voice dominate the Weinberg like no other artist has done this year! Do you even know how great you have it, Frederick!? Inspired by the gentrification of an African community in Harlem, Somi expanded on her 2014 breakout moment, “The Lago Music Salon,” with an album as assured as it is gorgeous, as provocative as it is accessible. “Alien” borrows from Sting in the most affecting of ways while “Black Enough” takes no prisoners with its Caribbean funk and “Am I black enough for you?” hook. “I’m trying to disrupt the model,” she told me in October before coming to town for her performance. Never stop trying, girl. Never stop trying.

4. Ambrose Akinmusire — “A Rift in Decorum: Live at the Village Vanguard”

One of the most innovative, exciting players in contemporary jazz music, Ambrose Akinmusire thrills with “A Rift In Decorum,” a two-disc masterpiece of a live set from the Vanguard that also features his longtime band behind him in inspiring form. The 12-plus minute highlight “Maurice & Michael (sorry i didn’t say hello)” is a whirlwind of insight, the star trumpeter stepping up with provocative phrasing and palpable energy as Justin Brown’s drums fearlessly unfold like a fury of Fourth of July fireworks. And if you don’t feel like completely attacking the day, “Taymoor’s World” is a work of beauty, Sam Harris’s piano often leading the charge with pretty, subtle brushes. If Ambrose Akinmusire is a painter, the Vanguard spreads broader than any other canvass he’s faced. It’s a must for any fan of jazz in 2017.

3. Brand New — “Science Fiction”

“So, what do we do with Brand New?” a friend texted me only a couple months ago. It was in reaction to the sexual misconduct accusations made against bandleader Jesse Lacey, and I had no idea what to say in return. Catching up with the friend recently, he told me he has since refused to listen to any Brand New records. Similarly, if you check other year-end lists, this album is by in large omitted, most likely because of what we now know about Lacey.

So, I don’t really know what to do here. When the album came out, I said to anyone who would listen that I believed this was the best Brand New album ever. I still believe that. And because Brand New is one of my favorite bands, I would be lying if I said this wasn’t one of my favorite albums of the year. Thus, its placement on this list. I realize that it’s useless to dissect the album if only because I don’t defend or condone or forgive any of Lacey’s actions, but if we’re talking about favorite albums — and only albums, outside of everything except the music — “Science Fiction” is near the top. Please don’t hate me.

2. Becca Stevens — “Regina”

It was hard to think Becca Stevens could follow up the brilliance of 2015’s “Perfect Animal” with something as diverse, complex and memorable, but here we are. “Regina,” her fourth LP, is slightly more accessible than her previous efforts yet no less intriguing because of it. Based around queens in every sense of the word, you can call it a concept album if you must, but don’t let that cloud the fact that Stevens is making some of the most interesting pop music in America.

Take “Mercury,” a clever homage to the Queen singer, which sounds like nothing she’s ever done before, complete with a Police-esque groove and percussive handclaps that keep the energy moving from measure to measure. Still not sold? Check “45 Bucks,” one of the most biting songs of the singer’s career, that expertly marries her simplest musical tendencies with her fantastically vivid storytelling. Need more? Well, “Lean On” has fun with time signatures while “Venus” is harmonious on infinite levels. There isn’t a single misfire throughout all 13 tracks here. Gorgeous. Intricate. Poignant. Catchy. Unforgettable. “Regina” is proof that brains can coexist with pop. And in 2017, that means Becca Stevens is the closest thing to a miracle worker that music has.

1. The XX — “I See You”

And for the XX’s third trick, watch as they dazzle you with florescent lights, singalong melodies and undeniable hooks! No, but honestly, though: “I See You,” Album No. 3 from the London trio, is easily the group’s most accessible thus far, continuing the upward trend of their releases with a fuller, more complete sound. Sure, they made their bones by living in the World Of Minimalism, but as the band grows so does the excess and these 10 songs spotlight a group not afraid to expand beyond the skeletons for which they’re so brilliantly known.

Opener “Dangerous” cements that very reality with its bright electronic horns and Ibiza-loving, rave-inducing percussion to which sitting still is an impossibility. Shoot. Even their signature sparse evolves from rainy English afternoons to sweaty Brazilian nights on songs like “A Violent Noise,” which adheres to the strobe-light-ification of today’s pop music, and “Lips,” which is quite possibly the sexiest song the XX has produced, tropical groove and all. Plus, where else can you find such an infectious use of Hall & Oates’ “I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do)” than the way this trio inventively weaves the 1981 hit into their “On Hold?” It’s a victory in vision.

It’s also a microcosm of why “I See You” is so addictive. The XX have always known how to keep you hooked, yet here, they make it easier for your electro-pop-hating, jaded-music-fan uncle to grab onto it as well. “I’ll put on a show,” singer Romy Madley-Croft croons on the heartbreakingly beautiful “Performance.” With “I See You,” the lights have never been this intense, the future never brighter. And that says something for a group who’s lived its life almost exclusively under the heat of a spotlight.

NATIONAL SONGS

10. Paramore — “Told You So”

That chorus, though. To think this came from the same band who wrote “For A Pessimist, I’m Pretty Optimistic” a decade ago … well, it’s pretty remarkable. Making the leap from pop-punk to pop-pop is never easy, but these guys utilize the secret weapon of retrofitted ’80s-style pop-funk to help make the transition and it works in spades. The clean guitar run that announces each chorus is so unique in contemporary pop that it almost feels wrong, and singer Hayley Williams provides an attitude imperative to exude in order for this song to work. And boy, does it.

9. Khalid — “Young, Dumb & Broke”

It’s the anthem of a generation! Or, well, something like that. Anyway, Khalid was easily one of 2017’s breakout stars, his “American Teen” one of the best R&B releases of the year, no matter the age. It’s one of the few times in recent memory that an artist actually lived up to the hype, the singer being buzzed about for what felt like lightyears before his first official release. “Young, Dumb & Broke” cemented the fact that Khalid, with his laid-back, vaguely tropical voice and wise-beyond-his-age wit, deserved all the accolades he received. Here’s to never growing up.

8. Haim — “Want You Back”

Weirdly, Haim’s “Something To Tell You” felt like it came and went without much fanfare, considering how 2013’s “Days Are Gone” was universally praised by critics and fans alike. This, “Something’s” best single, is everything you could hope to find in a Haim song: synths, impossibly beautiful vocals that are smartly layered, and finger snaps to which a toe must tap. They still have that staccato enunciation that would make Michael Jackson grin and they also know how to write anthems made for stadiums. “Want You Back” has it all.

7. Kendrick Lamar — “DNA”

“My DNA not for imitation/Your DNA an abomination/This how it is when you’re in the Matrix/Dodgin’ bullets, reapin’ what you sow/And stackin’ up the footage, livin’ on the go/And sleepin’ in a villa/Sippin’ from a Grammy and walkin’ in the buildin’/Diamond in the ceilin’, marble on the floors/Beach inside the window, peekin’ out the window/Baby in the pool, godfather goals/Only Lord knows, I’ve been goin’ hammer … “. I mean, really. I could go on, but this doesn’t even begin to do justice to the tantrum Kendrick throws as he offers these words during the song’s latter half. Do yourself a favor. Stop reading this nonsense and look up the song. Fast-forward to 2:06. Press play. And let the greatest rapper of his generation blow your mind.

6. Starsailor — “Take A Little Time”

It’s just so smooth. Clearly learning a thing or two from their time on the road with Mike & The Mechanics, Starsailor somehow went from early Aughts Brit-pop-rock to mid-‘80s-adult-contemporary-brit-pop-funk and man, it works. The groove here is something the band never revealed they could do previously and lead singer James Walsh’s falsetto is as strong as it’s ever sounded. Bonus points for the elevator-music acoustic guitar that obscurely lands in the background, giving the song a grown-up texture these guys have lacked. The Weather Channel should be collecting royalties.

5. Jay-Z — “The Story Of O.J.”

This deserves to be on any year-end list if only for Jay-Z’s bewildering “OK” that you hear early in the song. No matter how many times you listen to it, you can’t help but laugh just a tiny, tiny bit. On an album filled with admissions and apologies and regret and humiliation, perhaps the most striking track is the one where the man born Shawn Carter ruminates on adult-ing. “You wanna know what’s more important than throwin’ away money at a strip club?” he asks at one point. “Credit.” And the award for Things I Never Thought I’d Hear In A Rap Song goes to … .

4. Brand New — “Same Logic/Teeth”

See, National Albums No. 3.

3. Sampha — “(No One Knows Me) Like The Piano”

Indeed, the most touching track of the year comes from the most stunning debut of the year as well. Left to only a piano and Sampha’s exquisitely soulful, undeniably lasting voice, there’s no reason to feel ashamed if you need to grab a tissue or two upon first listen. Brave and sparse, this song reminded us that in a musical world filled with advanced technologies and formulas and gadgets and innovations, real, honest, raw music can still reign supreme and be as powerful as ever.

2. The XX — “On Hold”

I’ve listened to this song so many times that I’ve played it out. But if I can transport myself back to when it first attacked my conscience, more than a year ago, I remind myself that there was a time when I couldn’t get enough. The lead single off the band’s excellent “I See You” is a fantastic reflection on the kind of failed love that you just know had every reason to succeed. The interplay between singers Romy Madley Croft and Oliver Sim is always delicious in its own right, but when you add a Hall & Oates sample as the cherry on top, you oughta know that you have a hit on your hands. Here’s hoping we don’t have to wait another five years to hear from a band that constantly leaves us thirsty for more.

1. Becca Stevens — “45 Bucks”

“Why don’t you just try writing a really simple, catchy song. Do your own thing with it; make it interesting to you. But just try.” That’s what Becca Stevens’ manager told her before she wrote “45 Bucks.” “My response to that,” Stevens told me earlier this year, “has always been, ‘Well, I fart those things out for breakfast.’ Ever since I was a kid, I make a billion of those songs a day and they bore me.’”

Maybe. But man. If she could just sacrifice a few moments of boredom every now and then … .

“45 Bucks” is my favorite song of the year for a lot of reasons. It’s biting, yet subtle. Bouncy, yet solid. Powerful, yet reserved. The adjectives could go on and on and on. But the true intangible here is that sometimes a song comes along and it just grabs you by the throat and there’s nothing you can do about it. It had been a long time since I felt that feeling, yet “45 Bucks” broke the curse. When Stevens asserts, “I don’t even think you’re funny/I only laugh ‘cause I could tell you wanted me to,” you can feel the soul of whomever she’s confronting crush itself and wilt into a pile of nothing. Fade out with some pop-jazz drums and a touch of stunning harmonies and you have a classic spurned-love song (even though — spoiler alert — spurned love is not what the song is actually about). For sounding so innocent, Becca Stevens can cut deeper than the blackest of black metal, expertly proving here that sometimes being bored isn’t that bad at all.

The best music is supposed to transport you. It takes you to a place far away from wherever you are. Such is why nostalgia is such a prominent element in the art. Never mind the objective quality of a song; good or bad, if you associate it with a certain memory, you’ll continue to return to it for as long as it activates a certain feeling within your soul. Smash Mouth’s “All Star” isn’t a particularly great song by any standard, but to those who have longing memories for the summer of 1999, it can provide something other songs can’t.

Speaking solely to that idiom, Guillermo Pizarro’s “Harmonic Poems” is a masterpiece. It’s truly transportive. Grab a pair of headphones, press play, and you’ll lose yourself in these six tracks as they confuse you, irritate you, inspire you, scare you, and most importantly, leave a lasting impact on you. It’s not easy listening by any stretch, but it’s also not a flurry of reckless sounds combining to form an end game that makes no sense. This guy knows what he’s doing.

In fact, this guy really knows what he’s doing.

Still, you can take “Harmonic Poems” one of two ways, both of which are justified in their own right. Composed via a series of found sounds, field recordings and objects that are turned way, way up past 11, this album is a true work of art. Pizarro himself lends excruciatingly haunting spoken word layers to a couple tracks, including “13 Years — Deep Creek Blues,” where the vocals could be used on the soundtrack to a “Saw” movie. Reciting his poetry, the effects placed on Pizarro’s voice are so evocative, leaving the lights off while listening sort of feels like an impossibility.

Adding to the legend of the recording, of course, is the length to which the artist goes to get his sounds. The aforementioned “13 Years,” as an example, makes use of a homemade lung, a rainstorm and the tones of a flowing creek. It’s nothing if not ambitious, inventive and boldly imaginative. Yeah, it’s not going to make you tap your toe, but while considering the intellect and acumen behind everything, you can’t help but pause to appreciate how original the West Virginian is.

Plus, there are occasional moments of familiarity that cut through the noise enough to make things feel at least a tiny bit more recognizable. The one-two centerpiece of the album is “Aokigahara” and “Aokigahara Pt. II,” and in addition to creating an exceptional amount of atmosphere, experimentalist James Wolf’s violin appears, adding a new layer to the production that ultimately gives things an added dash of traditional musicality. It’s also creepy as hell, which doesn’t hurt, either.

As for the other way you can take this set? Well, you can have your pick. Pretentious. Over-indulgence at its most over-indulged. Inaccessible. Pointless. The list goes on and on. In fact, it’s almost easier to ridicule something like this for its lack of apology than it is to find the many things here one can value. A single listen and the arguments become clear as day.

Supporters argue that if you don’t like it, you just don’t get it.

Critics argue that this simply isn’t music.

Supporters argue that this is art in the highest form.

Critics argue that there’s nothing artistic about three-and-a-half minutes of static.

The disagreements could go on for days and it’s impossible to claim one side as right and the other as wrong. Above all else, this is the kind of stuff that speaks directly to preference. It’s not an easy listen and it almost singlehandedly redefines the word abstract. But damn if it doesn’t immediately take you to a very specific place you previously never knew existed.

Which, of course, is what makes “Harmonic Poems” a success and Guillermo Pizarro a musical mind worth celebrating. It might not be an attraction you’re used to riding, but if nothing else, the ticket you buy will grant you access to a journey you won’t soon forget.

** 2 STARS OUT OF 4 **

Underlined Passages have the college rock thing down. Literally. Check the band’s website and in the tour dates section, you’ll see slots for performances at places like WTMD, WRSU and WFDU. In their bio, they tout being requested for a repeat in-studio performance on Rutgers University’s radio station and, according to them at least, their songs have charted in the top 20 at (at least) six different radio stations.

And yet all that quantitative success in the college rock realm doesn’t even scratch the surface when it comes to the group’s qualitative success in the genre. 2016’s “The Fantastic Quest” was novel in its commitment to the kind of harmlessly pointed, emotionally driven, nice-guy, sad-sap rock that turned R.E.M. from university heartthrobs into arena gods. It established the very real fact that band braintrust Michael Nestor knows what he likes and likes what he knows. Droning guitars. Rock-solid backbeats. A voice as inviting as it is harmonious.

It’s Nestor’s signature and it’s all over his band’s latest set, “Tandi My Dicafi.” A natural step forward for the Maryland duo, it takes the “Quest” formula and expands it with maturity and vision, slowing things down more than its predecessor and understanding the value in variety. The lyrics still take aim at your heart and Nestor’s voice still sounds like a bed of warm feathers, but this is a quicker listen than the band’s previous effort, making for a pleasant, concise experience that deserves as many accolades as anything Underlined Passages has ever done.

Some of the most memorable moments come in the form of the one-two-punch that is “Thinking On A Sunday” and “Ruthenia.” The former is as uptempo as these guys get here, Jamaal Turner’s drums driving forward a dance-tastic groove that evokes visions of women in puffy hair shoulder-dancing in oversized long-sleeved, cut-off shirts. Plus, at a crisp 2:34, there’s no reason it wouldn’t fit brilliantly on any playlist curated at any American college in 1987.

Meanwhile, “Ruthenia” announces itself with a guitar lick most likely found on the cutting-room floor of Gin Blossoms’ “New Miserable Experience.” As accessible and infectious as the verses are, the song’s shining moment comes each time the chorus takes hold. Complete with lush backing vocal harmonies and a beat that cuts in half, it’s the sonic equivalent of clouds breaking after days of rain for an afternoon of sunshine. It’s the most epic moment of the record.

And that says something for a band that works just as well never attempting to scale grand heights. Case in point: “Your Bedroom.” Launching with an effects-laden groove from Turner, the single gives the band a new layer as it offers up a blend of balladry they’ve never revealed previously. Subdued and pretty, the prevalent synths give the production a level of warmth and levity these guys had yet to utilize. The result is deliciously moody, a formula you’d love to hear them explore more extensively somewhere down the line.

Instead, however, we receive a lot of what has garnered them success in the past. That’s not a bad thing, of course; it’s just the tinniest bit frustrating to see something new around the bend and feel as though it might have been a mirage. Take opener “Feelings,” which, with an added touch of synth, epitomizes the droning, straight-forward rock that this band uses as a base for its sound. “Silverlake” is similar, minus the prevalent electronics, and plus a Cure-esque guitar lead that adds an impressive atmosphere to the recording.

All of this says nothing of the set’s best song, “Bottlerocket.” Slowed down and moody, the star here is Turner’s interesting drum parts, from the inventive rim-shot-laden verses to the hazy ride cymbal that paints the chorus. Completing the production is the repetition of Nestor’s longing ending hook, “And I know you’re waiting for me now.” It’s the perfect period on a sentence colored with blue and gray strokes, a fantastic combination of rejection and hope.

Which is, of course, not unlike one’s college years — the thrill of independence, maturity and life’s next steps mirrored by the agony of crushing defeats like romantic heartbreak, bad grades, or the responsibility of paying an Internet bill. It all sums up Underlined Passages perfectly and it comes to life on “Tandi My Dicafi.” Sad, but promising. Burned, but optimistic. Eager, but cautious.

“I notice you are just like me,” Nestor proclaims on “Silverlake.” “We want to be seen, we want to be seen.”

Consider the eyes on you, sir. Now, what are you going to do, knowing everybody’s watching?

*** 3 STARS OUT OF 4 ***

“I don’t want to work a 9-to-5/ It’s easy to be dead, but you get paid to be alive.”

Words of wisdom from a band you might not expect would offer sophistication (hey, don’t be mad: The stanza, “Welcome to Boringville/ I live in Boringville/ Welcome to Boringville/ Where no one has fun” is literally an entire verse repeated). Plus, these are The Fun Boys, who in addition to calling their debut EP “Too Fun” also have a (vaguely graphic) illustration of what seems to be a mouse and rabbit making out on the EP’s cover. They aren’t here to wax poetic. They are here to make your night hashtag-toofun.

Yet that’s the beauty in these five songs and in the band itself. Everything involved is crazy, wild, weird, fun, loose … the list goes on and on. There isn’t a premium on stuffy, buttoned-up performance perfection; rather, these guys want to hit you in the face until you bleed, blood tricking through your teeth as you smile each time the fist hits your nose. It’s a cannon of quirk ready to blast with the hit of every snare drum and the screech of every gnarly scream.

And with five songs, all under two-and-a-half minutes, The Fun Boys also understand the strength in not overstaying their welcome. One listen is over before you know it, almost making you wish there were another five songs stuck onto the end of this collection. It’s like a party you leave too early, longing for the next weekend you’re able to let loose. Or, in other words, it’s as far away from Boringville as possible.

Speaking of that small town, though, the song named after it is perhaps the most Zappa-esque moment here, right down to lead singer Sam Whalen’s Ike Willis-lite baritone throughout the track’s first half. Jangly and bluesy, the song kicks up a notch when the tempo shifts forward and the guitar run-ups evoke some vintage soul that would make the experimental icon grin. Add a dash of brilliantly placed falsetto and the song is just weird enough to snatch your attention and poppy enough to keep it.

The other standout is “Lambo,” which in all the best ways sounds like a leftover from the rhythm section’s previous band, Seaknuckle, especially as the chorus unfolds and the pleasant high vocal harmonies commence. Taking the song to the next level is the bridge, where Whalen makes his case for being a Snapchat generation’s Stephan Jenkins, picking rhymes out of the air like they are raindrops in a hurricane. The aggression recalls Refused and the sensibility harkens Hot Hot Heat. It’s an infectious combination that these guys would be wise to explore more in the future.

But wisdom, if you remember, isn’t what makes the Fun Boys fun. That award goes to the collective’s unabashed commitment to youthful angst. Opener “Malt Shop” bleeds that very thing as it begins with an innocent, “Goin’ to the mall with my best friends, here we go/Goin’ to the mall ‘cause we’re meeting for a rock show.” Backed by a smart use of obligatory keyboards that fill the track out, the song is a memorable display of punk funk that climaxes at the bridge with a singalong that’s equally longing and versatile.

Energy is the name of the game, however, on “Hangin” and “Play,” two espresso shots of sound that will exhaust even the fittest of listeners. Eased in by a catchy bass line, the former brings drummer Colin Shultzaberger’s gritty growls to the forefront, providing a vocal that feels like cats scratching their claws down chalkboards (and that’s a good thing). The nod to Destiny’s Child as the song’s midsection begins is also a … fun … twist. The latter, meanwhile, closes out the EP in style, a killer keys riff kicking the proceedings into gear before dissolving into a dramatic space for Whalen to showcase his still-evolving vocals. It’s the most dynamic song in a collection of songs proud of its marriage to dynamism.

Such is why “Too Fun” pulls off the always-impressive feat of feeling both complete and incomplete, too short, yet too long. The songs here turn so fervently and the structures contain movements rather than verses. In a lesser group’s hands, these ideas could have been 12 4-minute songs that begin to weigh themselves down before track six even begins. Here, though, The Fun Boys make no apologies for their commitment to evolution, their commitment to energy, their commitment, unsurprisingly, to fun.

So, yeah. It might be easier to be dead. But with these five bombastic songs, The Fun Boys prove that sometimes being alive isn’t all that bad, either.

*** 3 1/2 STARS OUT OF 4 ***