The Best Vocal Performances of 2010

By Chris Moore:

Welcome back for another installment of this year-in-review list series, brought to you by the Weekend Review.  Tonight, I’m happy to present the top fifteen vocal performances of 2010.  Some, like “In Vain or True” and “White Blank Page,” are impressive for their use of complex vocal arrangements.  Others, like “Machine Gun” and “Memories” are notable for the emotive quality of Sara Bareilles’ and Rivers Cuomo’s respective performances.

There have been some excellent vocal performances this year, ranging from the raw vulnerability of Steven Page’s cover of “Virtute the Cat Explains Her Departure” to the unleashed quality of Alison Mosshart’s lead on “Gasoline.”  This was one of the most difficult lists to assemble, as the great vocal leads of the year run the gamut in various ways.  So, I’ve done my best to assemble and rank these tracks, taking into account the quality of the individual voices, the emotion behind each delivery, and the overall coherence and interest potentially generated by each vocal.

Without further ado, here’s the list, and enjoy the rest of the end-of-2010 series in the archive!

BEST VOCAL PERFORMANCES of 2010

1)  “In Vain or True” – Dhani Harrison, Ben Harper, & Joseph Arthur (of Fistful of Mercy; As I Call You Down)

2)  “White Blank Page” – Marcus Mumford (of Mumford & Sons; Sigh No More)

3)  “Machine Gun” – Sara Bareilles (Kaleidoscope Heart)

4)  “Memories” – Rivers Cuomo (of Weezer; Hurley)

5)  “Please Move” – Kevin Devine (of Bad Books; Bad Books)

6)  “Thieves” – Zooey Deschanel (of She & Him; Volume Two)

7)  “Gasoline” – Alison Mosshart (of Dead Weather; Sea of Cowards)

8)  “I Have Learned” – Ed Robertson (of BnL; All in Good Time)

9)  “Only the Ocean” – Jack Johnson (To The Sea)

10)  “Summer Sun” – Ben Thornewill (of Jukebox the Ghost; Everything Under the Sun)

11)  “The Chorus Girl” – Steven Page (Page One)

12)  “Ain’t No Grave” – Johnny Cash (American VI: Ain’t No Grave)

13)  “The Dance Class” – Rhett Miller (of Old 97’s; The Grand Theatre, Vol. 1)

14)  “Virtute the Cat Explains Her Departure” – Steven Page (A Singer Must Die)

15)  “Don’t Look Down” – Philip Selway (Familial)

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Announcing: end of the year WEEKEND REVIEW festivities!

By Chris Moore:

To put it lightly, this has been a groundbreaking year for the Weekend Review and all its various off-shoots.  Featured here weekly on the Laptop Sessions acoustic cover song music video blog, the Weekend Review has gone “one-a-week” for what will be a combined total of 52 full-length album reviews by the end of the year.  In addition, there will have been over 30 “Yes, No, or Maybe So” one-sentence reviews, the “Top Five Rock Artists of the Decade (2000-2009)” five-part series, and various other one-off segments.

As 2010 draws to a close, it’s time to go out with a bang.  Thus, I am happy to announce that a music review list was posted every day for the rest of the year.  In many cases, these were in addition to other posts, such as the regularly scheduled sessions.  These lists will include the biggies like the top twenty albums and the top twenty-five songs of 2010, as well as lesser ranked items such as the top three debuts and the top ten music videos.

Be sure to check your LS Blog.  Check it often, as there are still six more Weekend Reviews, the New Music 2010 Special Report, and so much more before the year is over.

It all kicked off — fittingly — with the Best Cover Songs of 2010 list.

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Brian Wilson’s “Brian Wilson Reimagines Gershwin” (2010) – The Weekend Review

By Chris Moore:

RATING:  3.5 / 5 stars

For songwriters with strong, distinct voices, albums populated by covers are typically stopovers between other, more serious efforts.  For Wilson, it appears that projects such as this are where he looks these days to keep himself occupied while he waits for inspiration to strike.

Brian Wilson Reimagines Gershwin delivers just about what you’d expect from the former Beach Boy: lush harmonies laid over a bed of smart, tight pop music, albeit the pop music of a bygone era.

Perhaps the slogan for this release should have been, “Brian Wilson updates the music of the Gershwin brothers… to the sixties!”

The greatest criticism I can lob at Reimagines is its apparent contentment to revisit the established.  Wilson was given access to fragments of songs written but never finished by Gershwin that numbered in the triple digits, and yet there are only two new compositions — “The Like in I Love You” and “Nothing But Love” — which provide the bookends for the full-length tracks.

Simply put, this is what prevents Reimagines from reaching the same creative heights as Mermaid Avenue (the original, and Vol. II not so much), a similar project conducted by Wilco and Billy Bragg.  The key difference there, of course, was that they dipped exclusively into unfinished lyrics and wrote the music for them.  The results on Mermaid Avenue should be attributed just as much to Wilco and Bragg as to Guthrie, whereas Reimagines often reads as a collection of Gershwin tracks with the Brian Wilson filter applied.

In other words, Reimagines often plays more as a tribute from Wilson and his band than as a fresh and creative project.

On the other hand, to label Reimagines as a straightforward tribute to the Gershwin brothers would be to unfairly marginalize the creative spirit that Wilson so evidently brought to these recordings, not to mention the crispness and emotion that each of his lead vocals are imbued with.  There can be no question as to his intentions; he clearly threw himself into the project, as supported by reports that he would spend eight hours a day in the studio perfecting his vocals.

Brian Wilson Reimagines Gershwin (2010)

Brian Wilson Reimagines Gershwin (2010)

There are many, many positive words to be said about this record.

For starters, even on a project that lends itself to slow paced, old-school compositions — and he does indulge at times — Wilson and his crack band of music makers manage to carve out a record that verges on rock.  As would be expected, there are some beautiful bass lines and some wonderfully fun harmonies that beg to be sung along with.

There are other touches, many of them subtle, that should allow for Reimagines to be accepted among Wilson’s studio discography, as opposed to a one-off side effort.  Paul Von Mertens’ contributions can’t be overstated, serving as a link between the instruments that were employed on many of the original recordings of these songs and Wilson’s more rock/pop-oriented arsenal of drums, guitar, and bass.  Likewise, Probyn Gregory’s acoustic guitars add significantly to many of the tracks, filling in the gaps admirably.  The acoustic guitar is not an instrument one might readily associate with Wilson’s general sound, which makes it all the more notable.

“Rhapsody in Blue,” snippets of which serve as the intro and outro of the record, should be familiar to fans as a song that Wilson has noted in past interviews as one of his influences.  That this is the song he chose to place at the corners is quite fitting, and that he would choose to sing the multiple vocal tracks entirely on his own may, if nothing else, be read as a sign that he is still in command of his music.  Reports of his mental acuity — or lack thereof — may not have been greatly exaggerated, but no one should presume to claim that Wilson is present on his recordings in name only these days.

“Summertime,” the first full-length cover, touches on bits of Billy Stewart’s chart-topping 1989 version in the intro but quickly spreads out into a ballad filled out with horn blasts, twinkling bursts of piano, and strings that loom ominously on the horizon.  This version is a bit slow, but after the recognizable Wilson-esque romp of “The Like in I Love You,” it’s as though he is flexing his classical muscle, as he continues to do on “I Loves You, Porgy.”

Subsequently, the instrumental “I Got Plenty O’ Nuttin’” sounds like it could have been found on a Pet Sounds outtakes tape, the bass harmonica adding greatly to that feel.  “It Ain’t Necessarily So” is probably the first track on the album that is a fully realized blending of traditional and more modern styles, to the point that the two are difficult to distinguish between.

This is when Reimagines works so well: when Wilson manages to blends a traditional approach toward these songs with his own distinctive sound.  Contrary to some recent criticism, Wilson does not merely reconfigure the words to fit over instrumentals that conjure his previous songs, except perhaps for “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.”  Where it works exceedingly well, by the way.

Where the album does fall short is on tracks like “‘s Wonderful” and “Love is Here to Stay” that fail to transcend lounge music, being little more than standard covers that don’t diverge all that much from the originals.

“I Got a Crush on You” sounds like it was ripped off a best ballads of the fifties disc, and it works surprisingly well.  It is followed by “I Got Rhythm,” which sounds like a cross between SMiLE and surf rock on the intro, before settling down into a groove that sounds like all the best parts of a sixties Beach Boys song.  Then comes the indisputable latter-half gem “Someone to Watch Over Me,” easily one of the most beautiful little tracks Wilson has recorded in years.

The original tracks are the strongest efforts on the album, and it is for this reason that the decision to stick primarily to covers will always baffle and disappoint me.  It is the single strongest justification for why I’ve denied Reimagines a rating of 4 stars: for all the promise of what could have been.  It is still an enjoyable record and I would argue that it has earned its place as a serious effort, in league with Wilson’s recent and quite excellent albums.

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Broken Social Scene’s “Lo-Fi for the Dividing Nights” (2010) – The Weekend Review

By Chris Moore:

RATING:  3 / 5 stars

Otherworldly and haunting, yet so pretty and longing.

This is the best way I can think of to describe Lo-Fi for the Dividing Nights, the EP that Broken Social Scene tacked onto some editions of this year’s Forgiveness Rock Record.  In keeping with the aesthetics of the tracks, the physical release is plain; if you’ve seen the album cover, you’ve pretty much seen it all, except for a similar back cover and a navy blue disc with white letters.

And yet, there is a simple beauty to the ten brief songs that are appended to the full album.  Forgiveness Rock Record is a solid album, one which I reviewed later that year, and yet it is not as notable as this little, possibly forgettable, largely instrumental ten-track EP.

It is in the concision of its songs that this collection shines.

Unlike its full-length counterpart, which suffers at times from not knowing when to stop, Lo-Fi for the Dividing Nights does not let any one track stretch out for too long.  No single idea, riff, or sound is carried out for more than a minute or two, and this is what propels this album.

Broken Social Scene's "Lo-Fi for the Dividing Nights" (2010)

Broken Social Scene's "Lo-Fi for the Dividing Nights" (2010)

TRACK LISTING:

1)  New Instructions

2)  Sudden Foot Loss

3)  Shabba Lights

4)  Song for Dee

5)  Eling’s Haus

6)  Professor Sambo

7)  Never Felt Alive

8)  Paperweight Room

9)  Turbo Mouse

10) Far Out

“Song for Dee,” in asking, “Good times, where’d you go?,” provides the central motivation for the melancholy that permeates these tracks.  Even the comparably brighter “Eling’s Haus” which follows “Song for Dee” is constrained by the repeated drone that sets the rhythm of the song.

“New Instructions” provides an opening for the EP that sounds vaguely like the acoustic fingerpicking from a Simon and Garfunkel single, but the subsequent layers that are added steers the track in a new direction.  “Sudden Foot Loss” follows; it is also acoustic in nature, but is much more unified in its sound, with one strong guitar up front and center in the mix.  The picking here is very simple and regular, with fleeting yet also regular flourishes between repetitions of the riff.  The background invites the mood of a dream, which is explored further on the track that follows.

“Shabba Lights” hints at human voices in the ah’s and ooh’s that accompany the horns and bells.  This introduces “Song for Dee,” which would be the simplest and unassuming track in any other context; here it is the only song that sounds like, well, a song.

Unlike the others, it has verses and words.

The second half of Lo-Fi for the Dividing Nights drags a bit, with “Professor Sambo” providing ample time and space to consider what else might be said about Dee or other causes of the somber, trance-like tone of this EP.  More vocals arrive on “Never Felt Alive,” but the words are difficult to make out, other than the three that comprise the title.

If regret could be translated into sounds, then it would sound precisely like “Paperweight Room,” a song whose title invites the listener to imagine a space, perhaps composed of memories, characterized by its ability to weigh one down.

The acoustic picking on “Turbo Mouse” is as pretty as the accompanying music is sad and offputting.  It all builds up to the aptly titled final track, “Far Out,” which sounds as though it is set in outer space.

In the end, Lo-Fi for the Dividing Nights doesn’t say much.

Literally.

And yet it is the otherworldly, haunting, and yet beautiful textures that make the EP alluring and compelling.  By saying less, it invites more imagination, and it is unsurprisingly an excellent choice of music to put on after dark.

This Broken Social Scene EP is one of the pleasant surprises of the year.  You won’t hear much about it, but it is one of the most compelling collections of stripped down acoustic instrumentals I’ve heard in a long time — I dare say, perhaps ever.

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