The Long Salt comes with some anticipation as there is some serious hype about this group, and it follows the accolades of their last few records. As it turns out, it feels like a snowstorm in your head. And it is a particularly harsh one: unrelenting and, at times, physically exhausting. Unlike Snow Globes, a record that landed on the Wire’s top 50 of 2005, there are precious few breaks, moments to reflect. It will surely provoke less meticulous chin-rubbing, but rather some furrowed brows.

Highlight "The Burns of Them," with its tic-tock rhythms chiming under thick noise and trademark indiscernible chants, demonstrates why Mouthus is making some of the most interesting music around. Add this to your collection, and look out future generations.

“Gold Leaf Branches” walks the tricky line between providing an interesting sampling of an extremely diverse label’s offerings while providing enough solid content to be more than just a jumping off point. It gives Rose a chance to promote some of the artists he’s come to love and, in a good many cases, play music with. The vast majority of them have released discs on the Foxglove or Digitalis labels, but there are plenty of kindred souls who throw in their own ingredients to this stew. In fact, the discs have the feel of a potluck dinner where friends bring dishes which are delicious and distinctive. Like that imaginary dinner, no one is going to be able to swallow everything (and certainly not at one sitting), but the bounty speaks to the breadth of the community that is drawn to the table.

Given that some of the offerings may not always sit well together, the sequencing of a project like this is key. Fortunately, the way the compilation is laid out may be its greatest strength. Clearly a lot of thought and many hours of listening went into deciding what went where. There are whole sets of tracks that fit so well together they form their own mini-compilations. Other times only the overall mood of two consecutive pieces is similar and sometimes it’s downright impossible to figure out what the connection is at a logical level; you just have to let go of that need to know. It’s at these times that the sequencing can seem more like free association than any kind of sensible progression. But even free association has its own twisted logic and usually it’s not all that twisted once one understands what the desired effect is.

The only real way to get a feel for how this baby flows is to run down the songs one by one so that’s what comes next. But if what you’ve heard so far has intrigued you, go ahead and take the plunge. Odds are that if you like a few of the better known contributors already (each one of which by the way contributes some serious quality stuff), you’ll discover some new favorites along the way and end up with a great overview of the crazy mixed up world that is the Digitalian diaspora.

Disc one kicks off with a solo acoustic rendering of Six Organs of Admittance’s Dark Noontide closer “Thousand Birds.” Despite the liner notes’ “Paul Is Dead” hints at Ben Chasny’s passing, he’s clearly alive and very well and proves that “Birds” is just as good a way to begin a record as it is to end one. Next up come Kuupuu’s atmospheric jangles, squishes, and caterwaulings which are an ominous Halloween creepy crawl while Stuart Busby’s stately and minimalist “First Steps” is the perfect ordered antidote to Kuupuu’s incipient dementia. Hala Strana’s “Fanfare” continues the processional with a signature joyous reel. This piece is easily the match of anything on Steven Smith’s other Hala Strana releases, yet another example of a primo quality contribution to “Branches.”

Alligator Crystal Moth’s off-center “Epicenter Crystals” combines spastic tribal drums with slurred vocal snippets and tinkling plinks while Gray Field Recordings’s “Rune of the Moon and Endymion” trumps a delicately plucked mandolin air with whispered poetry dropped in behind backwards tape scrapings and mournful violin. Maniacs Dream “Wayke Up” ironically returns us to the land of fevered dreaming as the ghosts in the attic clatter and rattle their chains. Like a lot of Maniacs Dream, one feels as though there are probably ten different songs going on at once. The resultant effect is both disorienting and curious. Next up is the rolling swell of Courtis’ “Insolacion De Soles Aledanos.” It only lasts for slightly more than four minutes, but I could be swaddled and rocked in its arms for hours.

Guitar hero in-the-making James Blackshaw contributes some of his signature brilliantine twelve string picking and bowed drones to “No Ghosts.” The combination is not necessarily new (e.g. Jack Rose or Steffen Basho-Jungans), but Blackshaw’s fluency is impressive and his sundazed sound sets it apart from mere aping. Next, the incredibly prolific Robert Horton spins a complex web of sound in “Beauty of Decay” that abruptly resolves into a hovering drone. This is fitful, agitated music never content to remain at rest. Horton’s view of decay is that it is an active process.

Annelies Monsere’s “You were on my side (guitar)” is a minimal and gorgeously breathy miniature ode to a friend’s support. The simplicity and brevity of the composition emphasize Monsere’s lovely voice. Soarwhole’s “Kronosdilutze” could well be a smacked up outtake from Public Image Ltd.’s heyday during an unguarded moment when John Lydon had relaxed his sneering front (but only slightly). Keeping things off-kilter, Keijo Virtanen and his merry band of pranksters the Free Players engage in more haunted house rickety organ and drum stumble as they document what sounds like an accident waiting to happen.

Timothy, Revelator offers up his take on “Friday Morning”, Sydney Carter’s spine-chilling front porch banjo ballad that voices frustration with an impassive God who allows his only son to be (quite literally) hung out to dry. As if to continue the feeling of mourning, Pefkin’s plaintive dirge “Blast Beach” floats in on bent accordion notes crying to the sky. The darkness continues with Visitations’ tentative backwoods lo-fi murder ballad which seems to have been recorded from a forgotten mike buried in a drum that occasionally thumps like a ghost in the attic.

Itdreamedtome’s brief “Duneuuic” opens hesitantly like a flower on a beach on some cold Northern shore, slowly building in strength like the warmth of the sunrise. Confounding the tendency to lighten things up, next comes Silvester Anfang’s cavernous and lugubrious dirge “Corporelijck Punieren.” However, it’s not merely pain and suffering as it manages to resonate with an uplifting clangor before returning to its belly crawl along the scorched earth. Elephant Micah’s “Ruination of the Runaways” might be the straightest singer-songwriter “folk” entry in the whole compilation; its only peculiarity might be the rough edges of a live recording’s saturated distortion crunching the bright acoustic strum and earnest vocals.

Oxblood Reincarnation’s “Milkstone” floats a distant mandolin finding its way inside a vapor chamber of slowly undulating shimmer and Kulkija’s “Hiljaa Hiivin Pois Aurinkoon” is a beautifully simple swaying lullabye. Finally, disc one comes to a close with Snake Oil’s “Untitled” consisting of tape loop hiss and shuffle, meandering guitar chords with some barely recognizable field recordings buried somewhere in the mix.

Disc two begins with Hertta Lussu Assa’s “Live at Potlatch.” This starts off with more herky jerky guitar and tambourine jingle. Like Soarwhole’ entry on disc one, this summons intriguing bloodlines between post-punk spasticity and “free folk” before slide whistles, kazoos and stumbling drums resolve into spectral vocal swirls. Now that’s some kind of journey. Next, Wolfmangler’s “I Dance Because She Likes It” crawls along the floor on a bass heavy rumble as the ectoplasm covered chrysalis of Nick Cave tries to burst through Smolken’s throat.

Charalambides’ “Voice Box” is one long arc of Tom Carter’s instantly recognizable guitar, organ swell and ethereal voices entwined in a tense embrace leaving me wondering how so much space can sound so claustrophobic before everything opens up again on the back of Carter’s soaring yet laconic lead work. My only complaint is that after nearly nine spellbinding minutes, Christina Carter’s vocal swoon gets rather short shrift on a hasty fadeout. Nonetheless, fans of the band will find this essential listening.

The North Sea “Guiwenneth Of The Green Wood” features the host’s own dish at the pot luck; Brad Rose’s sun-dappled and cheery guitar, hazily moaned vocals and bird calls in the background. As if to refute the theory that confident optimism is the way to salvation, Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood follow with a loose, spacey, though hardly shambolic jam that approximates a midnight stroll in a somnambulistic trance.

The Weird Weeds contribute “Soda Jerk” which is just getting started on its woozily precise guitar interplay before the Laudable Pus intrude with their far more raucous live take on what David Thomas would sound like as an advocate of anonymous promiscuity. The whole thing reminds me a bit of The Fall’s “Paint Work” except that the Laudable Pus would never be confused with a documentary on Red Dwarfs. That’ll teach the Weeds to leave their tape out on the table where anyone can just fiddle with it before sending it in. Leighton Craig & Eugene Carchesio’s “Here I Give Thanks No.1” balances crazy slashes of echoing guitar with foghorn blasts of saxophone in a divine free improvisation racket. So it is quite a shock when Rameses III’s “The Tidal Draw” touches down with gently lapping waves of airy guitar and accordion.

Snowfoxx’s “Love Style One” plays out like the soundtrack to the alien abduction of the Flaming Lips circa 1998. This missing link explains how the Lips earlier acid-kissed overdriven guitar anthems softened into the more orchestral sound we’ve all come to expect. Whether Snowfoxx was actually aboard the mothership taking notes or whether this is a brilliantly whacked out piece of historical revisionism hardly matters when it’s this much fun. The strange otherworldly fun continues with Phil Legard’s Xenis Emputae Travelling Band’s “Song from a Wasted Orchard.” Legard manages to make even a quiet glade seem as if it is an alien landscape. Picking up on Legard’s skewed pastoralism, The Magickal Folk of the Faraway Tree contribute their beautiful harmonies to the wistful “Being Here Has Caused Me Sorrow.” This is one of my favorites on the compilation because The Magickal Folk are one of those bands that have a strong grasp on tradition without being held in its thrall as they re-imagine folk forms.

Claypipe uses the strangely warm acoustics of an abandoned bunker as a staging ground for Antony Milton’s mosquito like violin skittering and careening off the walls while Clayton Noone’s spare guitar totters drunkenly around in “The Slow Dust of 60 Years.” The tape hisses are as dust motes in the still air. Next we go from huge spaces to tiny ones as Rose messes with our sense of scale with Wax Ghost’s “Fall City.” This is the sound of elves loose in a music box as its gently pulsating spare drone mimics the little people’s discovery of a funhouse of sound.

The Golden Oaks’s “Grower’s Communion” sounds like Henry Flynt sitting in a back porch rocking chair sipping lemonade in the late afternoon at harvest time while the dusty breeze comes in hot off the wheat fields. Little vortices of chaff build and unravel as he sinks into his chair and lets the music take the edge off a day spent in the fields. If Grower’s Communion is about the harvest, M Jarvis and A Jarvis’ loping “Rice Leaves” is the feel of a warm autumn kitchen making loaves of bread. There is peace and ease here in addition to all the yummy smells. Even 6majik9 appear to be eschewing their usual crazed clatter in “Debris” to capture some quieter moments in their shamanic quest for enlightenment. But they can’t help themselves and a deep tom rumble rolls over the encampment threatening a soaking. Lampukello’s “Metsa Mansikka Mehu Lasi” is an intriguingly unassuming and minimal mix of backwards tape loops rushing wind and barely audible drums. The result sounds like it was set up beforehand and just let to run its merry course but of course that’s just the effect achieved. Hypnotic and gorgeous it is the perfect follower for “Debris.”

Plat Ypus’ whacked out take on “Jazz” is certainly never going to find its way into any fancy hotel cocktail bar and more is the pity if you ask me. Marissa Nadler’s disc two closer “Lily, Henry & the Willow Trees” is as fine as any track on her albums though her honey voice and echoic picking hardly break any new ground above what we’ve already heard from her.

Disc three starts off with the floating and endlessly repeated mantra of Drekka’s “Possibilities.” Taken from a live performance and consisting only of vocals and viola, the two musicians repeat the chorus of “the world is full of endless possibilities” through myriad variations in tune, pacing and phrasing making its form the proof of its content. Next comes the truly wonderful though not very well known Anvil Salute balancing an open circular guitar riff that picks up slide whistle, trumpet and violin in its infectious parade. This is one of those tracks that ought to make people stand up and notice these guys. Keith Wood’s Hush Arbors project should need no introduction but “Far Away I Have Been” is one of the deepest and most musically varied pieces I’ve heard from him. Starting off with minimally plucked guitar, Wood’s achingly fragile voice and woozy violin playing could raise goose bumps even on the hottest summer day. Then in the second half of the piece Wood plows his almost-breaking-apart wail under a growing storm of bass heavy hum topped with sheets of scouring guitar. What a breathtaking catharsis.

Following up that kind of emotional rollercoaster is not trivial, and the wide open improvisation of The Lost Domain’s “Death Dances” comes as a welcome relief. Slightly less manic than Maniacs Dream, these guys are no less weird and they are damn proud of that fact. As well they should be; I can almost see the skeleton’s popping out of their graves for a hoedown as the band creaks along. Lau Nau’s “Kuutarha” album made a lot of “best of” lists last year. On her contribution, the intimate ”Hidas Kuula”, the beautifully organic combination of accordion, triangle, bells, and Laura Naukkarinen’s gorgeously expressive voice is the equal of any track on that release. Next Keith Wood pops up again as the spare banjo backdrop in a new spooky folk classic from Wood and Wand (an impromptu session featuring Wood, and cohorts Wooden Wand Hassara and Aaron Rosenblum). Bleak in both its outlook and its spectral mood, “Death Dealer Blues” laments the eternal pull of that other, darker side.

If you were looking over your shoulder one last time before plunging into Wood and Wand’s underworld, you might see Friendly Keys calling you back with “Sea Lions” a soft spoken meditation on the power a good friend can have to compensate for those losses we all suffer in life. Once you’ve turned around to face life, Keijo’s bent and ruminative chamber piece “Moving Beyond” marries Indian slide guitar with hovering drones in a wonderfully balanced tone poem that makes the case for those endless possibilities that Drekka mentioned earlier. Juniper Meadows’ bright open ringing banjo and guitar chords recall a walk through the title’s “A Mess of Cedars.”

Unlike the sunshine in the Meadows’ cedars, Agitated Radio Pilot’s claustrophobic “Innumerable Night” lays itself down like an evening fog complete with haunting spectral voices on the wind calling from beyond the grave. If I had to pick one thing not to be listening to home alone, this would be it. Thankfully Terracid’s inspired use of a jaw harp to punctuate an otherwise stately processional dispels all the ghosts. Music, your mind does love you. Once the bleating goat guitar introduction of Dead Raven Choir’s “We Will Not Whisper” crests, what is revealed is a ballad that plays like a shriveled husk of a more grandiose past. This is sound imploding on itself albeit in an orderly fashion - like a well-detonated building.

The rarely heard from Master Qsh make a great percussive rumble in “Saunankatolla 2004” before bringing in a wooden flute to soften the edges. This piece works as a free improvisational interlude to break up the intensity that has been building before Nick Castro’s delicate live version of the ballad “Unborn Child.” The spritely recorder that weaves over Castro’s introduction is far more disciplined than Master Qsh’s noodlings, but there are resonances here as well. The disciplined commingle with the free often on these discs.

A far cry from his bubblegum pop destruction work in Sonic Temple Assassins, Jani H’s “Last Sunbeams in a Darkening Hall” is a brief undulating flow that calls to mind those final moments before day gives itself over to night’s embrace. The Does’ “Lullaby” invokes the eerie whisper of one who craves control (think Kim Gordon on “Shadow of a Doubt”) over a deceptively calm backdrop as the band explores the fine line between comfort and obsession. Mike Tamburo’s harmonica in “No More Dripping from Windsor’s Beard” stretches out to infinity as it chases itself through space trailing comet dust. Finally, Braspyreet leads a slow dignified march down pitch black back alleys searching for the ghost of Alfred Jarry. Mystical incantations abound in the demented parade that is “Kuu Putoaa.” The title itself is shrieked several times like an asylum mantra before complete glossolalia ensues. I would love to see these guys jam with Visitations as there are a lot of similarities in their approaches.

If you made it this far in this review, you can see that fifty nine tracks clocking in at nearly four hours can seem completely unmanageable and indeed the prospect of absorbing all of it is a bit daunting. The best plan seems to be to take these gems a little at a time, go back for a second listen when you hear something that strikes your fancy and skip what doesn’t match your mood. My advice is to give “Gold Leaf Branches” the time it merits and while you may never love everything here, you’ll at least come to recognize it for the wonder it is.

As “Bonanza” bursts from the speakers to open the disc, a million layers of static meet the ears in a solid mass. The track proceeds into a gauntlet of piercing cut and paste assemblage, not so hyperactive as to match some of Wiese’s most frenetic work, but rapid enough in its transitions as to keep the listener on guard. “Luxor Skyship” follows suit for a time, but just after the track hits the two-minute mark, near silence signals that Multiplication won’t be just another ear-piercing, brain-slapping storm of uninterrupted aural artillery. The music quickly builds to a reprised frenzy, and similar lulls on subsequent tracks are equally short-lived, but they’re just one sign of an approach by Akita and Wiese that’s not dependent on muscle and force. The majority of the album is still a boisterous and punishing affair, though the two collaborators seem particularly in tune with a mode of composition that more obviously lays bare the multitude of transitions and overlaps in the music’s construction, like a quilt of barbed wire, chain mail, and asphalt.

The album’s title track is its finale, a relative opus of twenty-seven minutes, and the piece that best evidences the spectrum of sound that lies within Multiplication’s crowded clouds. Repetitive motifs snake from underneath the crowded overgrowth in the music’s foreground, and shifts in sound that might have formerly taken place in hairpin turns and jarring redirections occur more slowly, to allow the more staid of the duo’s source material to come to the surface. The listening is no easier on delicate ears, but it’s nice to find added space in a recording that was formerly so dense. In encountering Multiplication, those expecting a full-on throttling from Wiese and Akita won’t be disappointed, but this track proves that those afraid of a monotonous affair needn’t be, either.

Live in Japan documents the 2002 jaunt that Monotract made through Japan, and features a side of their sound that’s distinct within the scope of the band’s oeuvre. Perhaps because flying and/or traveling with too many guitars and drums would’ve been tenuous, the tour seems to have been heavy on electronics, brimming over with crunch, crackle, and sizzle. It’s some of Monotract’s most inorganic music, robust and unintelligible. But, as usual, Roger, Nancy, and Carlos find room within the crowded mix for a rhythmic base, and much of Live in Japan (and most of the disc’s best tracks, at that) are built upon beats. But, whereas other artists in their position might use a well-defined beat as a familiar anchor upon which to moor their wilder meanderings, Monotract make it another conflicting voice within many, creating music that’ll initiate head bopping and ass shaking as surely as it’ll serve up a healthy helping of cognitive dissonance.

A new release on Ecstatic Peace! due this summer promises variations on the drums/guitar/electronics line-up Monotract have been showcasing lately, and, if the live set they played at No Fun Fest 05 is any indicator, will likely contain more beguiling mishmashes than the ones on this disc. Live in Japan, though, isn’t an ugly, forgotten sibling, and whereas Monotract’s last live document ( a 2001 cdr on Freedom From) didn’t do the group justice, this disc comes close. When learning a new language, the full immersion method is always best. This disc may offer only a few of the dialects within Monotract’s native tongue, but it’s still mandatory homework for any of their serious students.

This year we will take advantage of the polls that appear on the site, and automatically nominate the top 3 releases reviewed on the site, as already rated by the readers. At the time of THE LIST, there is a tie for the third slot at 9.35 out of 12, so it will actually be the top 4. Those four releases are Jack Rose - Kensington Blues, Mike Tamburo - Beating of the Rewound Sun, Vibracathedral Orchestra - Tuning to the Rooster, and Six Organs of Admittance - School of the Flower. Now on to the writer's nominations...

ROUND 1

Andy Beckerman
Animal Collective - Feels (Paw Tracks)
I heard a lot of clamor over how song-oriented Feels was as opposed to their earlier efforts. This, I think, is the bogus claim of a mass (indie) media trying to justify some or other desire to reduce Animal Collective to a point attractor. The new album continues along the same path of experimentation with the pop medium that made me love Animal Collective in the first place, and like each of my other choices does this through the combination of many different factors in such a way as to create a flux.

Adam Strohm
Matthew Welch - Dream Tigers (Tzadik)
This guy is far too unfamiliar to people interested in contemporary American composition. Welch is best known for his utilization and integration of bagpipes in the contexts of the more conventional "classical" line-ups, as well as his injection of Gamelan influences into the same. This disc offers a great look at three different sides of the composer's work, and the string quartet that opens the disc is its jewel, a piece of great lyricism and beauty. Great stuff, all around.

Dick Baldwin
Feathers - s/t (Feathers Family)
This third spot was very hard to fill. There were so many other records that felt like they could be in this spot. Six Organs of Admittance, Devendra Banhart, one of the many Wooden Wand and the Vanishing Voice, Davenport, Skaters or Ben Reynolds records from this year, The Decemberists, Animal Collective, Eyes and Arms of Smoke, Matt Valentine, Marissa Nadler, Hush Arbors, Drona Parva, Jason Anderson... the list goes on. The reason I chose the Feathers album over the rest is because while it isn't terribly similar to the rest, there's a thread tying most of these together that simply isn't there for my other picks. I could hardly claim there's a single scene that could claim both the newly major-label-signed Decemberists and The Skaters, but I also don't need to go on about the swelling of folk-based music (flirting to varying degrees with the avant garde), as it's been obvious for the past couple years. Feathers' personality is entirely unique and engaging. Captivated by their gentle harmonies they pull you into the woods, rather than evoking a landscape.

Jim Steed
Wooden Wand and the Vanishing Voice - Buck Dharma (5RC/Time Lag)
This nomination goes out to Davenport, The Skaters, Double Leopards, Ben Reynolds, and every other fucked up folkie and primitive pot banger that released ten times as many records as I could realistically keep track of. Leave it to me to take the asshole accessible pick. Man, actual songs! But, fuck, the lazy handed acid guitar on this album took me by surprise, and when combined with the spiritual vocals and collective ommm that makes up the Vanishing Voice, it's my pick from that pack. Could just as easily throw in The Hands of Worman Heaven, Silver Songs, or A Hole is Through instead, but I could only pick one.

Steve Rybicki
V/A - The Invisible Pyramid Elegy Box (Last Visible Dog)
In the year of the monster compilation (aside from this behemoth, you've got Psuedoarcana's The Tone of the Universe..., Music Your Mind Will Love You's Sound Surrounds Us series, and Digitalis' Gold Leaf Branches and the Wailing Bones series), I had to nominate at least one. And if you're going to pick one, this is it. Nearly eight hours of music spanning the spectrum from clatter to hum, impeccably sequenced, featuring old and new favorite artists, and with an underlying theme of wistful remembrance. This is one stop shopping for the sound of the present honoring the passed while becoming the future.

ROUND 2

Andy Beckerman
Eyes and Arms of Smoke - A Religion of Broken Bones (Cenotaph)
Forget trying to place this within some neo-folk trend... I’m not saying you can’t but this is so far beyond the standard conception, like Bablicon’s position to indie rock being above and beyond, with their incorporation of jazz and modern composition... Eyes and Arms of Smoke has those same elements, but the desire to try new things never reduces the songs to mere experiments.

Adam Strohm
Hair Police - Constantly Terrified (Troubleman)
The boys do it again. The bar's been raised with this hair-raising creep-fest, as Hair Police continue to fall into a dark chasm that threatens to swallow them whole. Seeing this material performed live was a highlight of my musical year, and, luckily, this disc didn't disappoint. Here's hoping that those listeners turned off by the group's more spastic early material will finally give them another listen and see what they're missing.

Dick Baldwin
Boris - Akuma No Uta (Southern Lord)
Sunn O)))'s sense of atmosphere and The Melvins' punishing aggression coalesced into this amazing trio from Japan's impressive discography. 2005 was a pretty good year for them, having released the fantastic At Last - Feedbacker album, their 3rd collaboration with Merzbow, and Akuma No Uta on Southern Lord. Made somewhat infamous for its cover art, which duped many by it's near perfect recreation of Nick Drake's Bryter Layter, with their guitarist Wata, trading Drake's acoustic guitar for her double neck electric guitar. The difference this implies is born out as Boris delivers intense, detuned sludge rock. This album provides a good glimpse of Boris' range. The sludge-punk "Ibitsu" and the thick, fuzzy drones of "Introduction" and parts of the title track and "Naki Kyoku" are infused with Boris' unique take on high energy, low freqency, speaker melting drone-rock.

Jim Steed
Antony and the Johnsons - I am a Bird Now (Secretly Canadian)
This spot belongs to Four Tet's endless ecstacy, which I probably listened to more than any album this year, or Konono Nr. 1, the most truly outside artists in the year of outsider folk, but I find myself unable to let THE LIST go by without including Antony and the Johnsons. Never have piano ballads been so brutal and heartbreaking. Honestly, the album is a bit uneven for me. "Hope There's Someone" is devastating and leaves me in a corner reeling every time I hear it. But, on other songs, the authenticity and honesty can't make up for the simplicity. "You Are My Sister" is little more than a greeting card, and "For Today I am a Boy" is a chorus with nothing around it. Still, if there is a face for music in 05, for me, it was Antony's, looking pensive and intense as he pounds out the instrumental part of "Hope There's Someone" on BBC's Later show.

Steve Rybicki
Alvarius B - Blood Operatives of the Barium Sunset (Abduction)
Alan Bishop digs deep into his bag of tricks and showers the unsuspecting masses with a record of exquisitely off-kilter and grimy salutes to his favorite anti-heros. No mere thugs these; each has a well-developed code that defines their morality and a fanatical compulsion to impose it on the world. The production is a few thousand notches up from Bishop's customary lo-fi grit which only works as a coercive hand around your shoulder to draw you close and hold you fast while he hisses his warnings in your ear.

ROUND 3

Andy Beckerman
New Pornographers - Twin Cinema (Matador)
At first I didn’t like this so much but not only has it grown on me, but I think it’s my favorite of their albums. The complexity of their songwriting just keeps increasing and increasing, here taking on new rhythmic dimensions (with song structure, with drumming – Jesus, the drums in "Jackie Dressed In Cobras") and in general with harmonies and subtle melodies that are woven into the song – and not one bit of this complexity comes at the expense of the song itself.

Adam Strohm
Zs - Karate Bump (Planaria)
Another band whose live performance was an undisputed high point for me in 2005, Zs, and their excellent Karate Bump, though truthfully only an ep, need to be on my list. The opening "Bump" captivates while barely rising above a whisper, a seriously intoxicating and energizing composition that shows that intensity need not only manifest itself in loud, demonstrative fashion. The only thing that would've improved this disc is had it been a full-length.

Dick Baldwin
Of Montreal - The Sunlandic Twins (Polyvinyl)
The most infectious pop album I've heard in years. Despite the mountains of music that accumulated "to be heard," I couldn't seem to pry this disc (and the bonus EP) from my CD player for a solid 7 months of the year. So many catchy and fun songs caught my attention. After several listens, I began to hear so many intricacies I'd missed before. As much as my interests have been firmly attached to more "out" music, this album reminded me of the thrilling potential of creativity and songwriting. The musicianship that the Elephant 6's reputation was built on is alive and well.

Jim Steed
Smog - A River Ain't Too Much to Love (Drag City)
There's not a note out of place. The more traditional country songs make the album a little uneven, but the strength of the rest of the album is more than enough to make it the greatest Smog album yet. This, along with the Jack Rose album already nominated, are just so perfectly cast. They reaffirm my faith in punk/indie/etc. to not just create works of great enthusiasm but also true works of art and the best songs of the year.

Steve Rybicki
The Mountain Goats - The Sunset Tree (4AD)
This is the Mountain Goats record that finally hooked me. John Darnielle tells what are probably his most personal stories without resorting to characters (or caricatures), fables, and other misdirections. Astonishingly open, beautifully recorded and played, and brilliantly conceived, it could be the album he never tops. Even after playing it to death on its release, it's the one album this year that I can still put on now and be transported right back to the joys of discovering it for the first time.

Daron Gardner: Hi everyone. It looks like I will be taking over as host for THE LIST this year. I think our list of records this year is a pretty good one. There are a few obviously great records missing that I can only assume you didn't pick because you knew I wouldn't let them be forgotten – thus leaving you open to pick some other fine records. So let's get that all out of the way (oh, and I forgive you). Lungfish – Feral Hymns is quite possibly the best Lungfish record... and easily their best in a few years, which is saying a lot given how great Love Is Love is. If you missed out on this record, you have missed out on what I think is easily the record of the year. The other forgotten record is of course Bonny `Prince' Billy & Matt Sweeney's Superwolf. While it might not be quite as perfect as Master And Everyone, it is easily the 2nd best record of the year, and I actually listened to it more than any other record this year. It is a very poignant and intimate record, and one that deserves to be listed in the best of the year. Okay, so with those few additions/corrections, I open up THE LIST to eliminations and discussion. Lets get this shit going.

JIM STEED'S ELIMINATION

Jim: If I wanted to listen to the Fairport Convention, I am pretty sure I would just listen to the Fairport Convention and not put on Feathers. And, really, in most cases, I wouldn't be too into listening to the Fairport Convention. So while I admire the skill and musicianship behind the Feathers LP, I think it should be taken off THE LIST. I was only able to listen to it once, and really, if we're going to appease the Renaissance Faire crowd by putting up a prissy folk record, I'd much rather the Marissa Nadler album be nominated instead.

Dick: I agree that if you want to listen to Fairport Convention, then you should just listen to Fairport Convention. Lumping this in with them and Marissa Nadler is obviously not an outlandish claim, but it makes me think you didn't listen too carefully. Try listening to it more than once.

Jim: I did listen to two songs again this morning to make sure I was not totally off base by saying it sounded like the Fairport Convention. And it sounded exactly like the fucking Fairport Convention. It was even more similar to the Fairport Convention than I remembered. Don't make me do a candy-bar lineup for you - Invisible Jukebox-style - between the two. You will fail. Next.

Steve: Feathers sounds *exactly* like Fairport Convention if only:

1. Fairport Convention spent more time inebriated in the hash bar than the cash bar.

2. Fairport Convention had a penchant for woozy vocal harmonies and blurred psychedelic fuzz guitar backgrounds and chirping birds instead of their relatively crisp arrangements.

3. Fairport Convention had David Tibet, Marc Bolan or one of their acolytes as one of their singers or at least decided to adopt a more nasal intonation.

4. Fairport Convention did not execute their shifts in dynamics with the same assurance that they do.

So yea, I see the connection/affinity, but exactly like Fairport Convention? I think not. For the record, why all the hate on Fairport Convention? Is it due to the "revival" thing? Is updating an ancient musical form now all of a sudden a taboo genre for FJ? I guess we cannot review any more Sharron Kraus albums. What a pity.

As for the Marissa Nadler comparison... Marissa is definitely prissy, but I've listened to the Feathers stuff a few times recently and although they are certainly fey, I wouldn't put them in the same bucket as I would the far more static Nadler. I'd be more likely to lump them in with Devendra's fweep than Nadler's brand of stiff formalism.

By the way, if half of the music played at Renaissance Faires was as well-executed and composed as the Feathers album is, I might even brave the SCA types to check it out once in a while.

Daron: Jim and I watch a lot of TV together. Specifically, we watch the TV show "Freddie" a lot, and if there is one thing I have learned about Jim after all these years, it is that he really knows what he is talking about when it comes to entertainment. He knows when something Freddie says or does is funny, and he rewards Freddy with a pleasant, if not slightly reserved laugh. And, when Freddie isn't on his game, Jim knows that too, and responds in kind. So while I totally disagree that Feathers sound exactly like Fairport Convention, the fact that he even chose this record out of the bunch makes me comfortable sticking by his elimination. The Feathers' LP is removed from THE LIST.

DICK BALDWIN'S ELIMINATION

Dick: I'll get rid of Antony & the Johnsons - I am a Bird Now. One time, I tried to listen to this, and after I got through the first song I remembered that I'd chosen to put it on and could just as easily turn it off. So I did. I could listen to the whole thing before eliminating it, but I'd really rather not have to.

Jim: Interesting turn given your response to my valid criticisms of Feathers. I don't think you should listen to it again - if you don't like the first song, you won't like any of it. It just outs you as a tough guy. Let me guess, you were too much of "a man" to see Brokeback Mountain? Instead you saw King Kong twice? Sounds about right.

Dick: That's right. I'm tuff as shit. King Kong's a fucking pussy. I'd dance Swan Lake on his fucking grave.

Daron: Based on Dick's indepth research into the album, I am going to have to let this elimination stand.

Jim: I am pretty sure both of you are going to get your asses kicked by some drama club kids now.

Daron: Bring 'em on! I can out cry them, and out punch those bitches.

STEVE RYBICKI'S ELIMINATION

Steve: I liked VCO's Tuning to the Rooster and consider it one of the better *reissues* of 2005. But is lengthening pieces from their original releases and throwing them together enough to make it "LIST-worthy"? Not to me it isn't. Add to that my disappointment that the normally prolific VCO hasn't released anything this year featuring the new "Bowered" lineup outside of extremely limited editions of mostly live recordings where you can just as easily hear bar orders as you can the music, and this Rooster's got elimination stamped on his forehead.

Daron: No one really fought for this, so I will let the elimination stand. VCO's Turning to the Rooster is removed from THE LIST.

ADAM STROHM'S ELIMINATION

Adam: I hereby eliminate the New Pornographers. Sure Twin Cinema's got some solid power pop songcraft on that album, but it's surely not top three material, if for "Three or Four" alone, which grates on me. Don't get me wrong, there are some songs I like, and some are as catchy as hell, but I can't let the disc stay on THE LIST, it just doesn't belong. I'm sure I'll be vilified for this choice, but I have a lot of trouble thinking of this disc as one of the year's best. It's not insipid, and does have some good qualities, but overall, leaves me pretty cold.

Andy: Wow, I'm actually going to not argue against this...the fact that not only is Adam well versed enough in Twin Cinema to namecheck a song, but that he listened to a pop album made after 1979 at all is reason enough just let it go. Like they say, if you love something, let it go and if it returns to you, then you are A Wizard of The First Degree (an unreleased Todd Rundgren album). Well, by letting this go, I have shown that I am the bigger man, not literally because I am only 5'5" and Adam is 5'9" or so, but synecdochially, in that part of me is bigger than Adam, if you catch my drift: my brain because I am the alpha and the omega. In other words, good choice, Adam; I shall not contest your elimination, even though you're obviously wrong and probably haven't listened to the album more than twice.

Adam: Andy makes good points. I rest my case.

Daron: Adam's elimination stands, and New Pornographers is removed from THE LIST.

ANDY BECKERMAN'S ELIMINATION

Andy: Time to rip an elimination a new asshole. And what will come out of that hole and into the garbage bin of music history? Why Smog's shitty album. Now, to be fair, I only listened to it twice, but those two times were enough for me to think that this was boring and not only boring, but also boring. It reminded me of many times I have beeen bored. But wait there's more! No, there isn't. Get rid of this album and let me go die in peace. Peace out, shittits.

Jim: Total nonsense elimination. Best Smog album since Red Apple Falls. Are you saying there's something wrong with Smog or something wrong with you for not liking Smog?

Andy: What I'm now going to say is that anyone that likes any Smog album at all is a piece of shit. I was earlier going to just say that I simply didn't enjoy the new album, but thanks to your words, I now think that all lovers of anything that dude has ever done are horrible and ethically deficient. I think you now owe a debt to society.

Jim: Oh snap! Ohhh snap! I think he is calling you out directly, Daron!

Steve: Andy, A River... has it all - understated musings on everything from divinity to pornography, immaculate pacing, and Callahan's brilliant delivery. You need to check the exhaust system on your tour vehicle for leaks, because either you are suffering from CO poisoning or there's a fine dusting of spray paint shimmering on the edge of your nostrils. Talk about ethically deficient; huffing and posting is on a par with drinking and dialing. Not only is this elimination way off base, it's not even in the ballpark.

Andy: It has been said that the reason a puff of opium will cause one to grow tired and lethargic is due to the opium's sleep-producing powers....in much the same way does the new Smog album have these powers. Inherent in its existence is a boredom so all-encompassing, so complete, that the very essence of the album is that of total tedium. If there is a fault in any of this, do not locate it in me, like some Lockean fiend, but rather in the album itself. And you're right, it's not in the ballpark because I just hit a homerun, numbnutz.

Steve: OK sizzle chest, point taken; I was merely responding in kind to your own employment of ad hominem arguments. Of course, you're still wrong about Smog.

Daron: Sorry, Andy, I have to agree with everyone here, Smog's A River.... is not only one of Smog's best records, but it isn't even slightly boring. I realize that you mostly listen to music while playing Dance Dance Revolution, but just because it drags down your game isn't a good enough reason to kick it off. Please choose again.

Andy: Can I choose to replace you as the leader of this shambolic mess because obviously you're not in full control of your faculties? Or as Sartre said, can I choose to not choose, for even not choosing is a choice, and if I wasn't choosing, Smog would still be ejected from this horseshit sham of a LIST due to the fact that it is about as interesting as a paper bag filled with smaller paper bags which inside them contain not even smaller paper bags but instead pieces of paper with Staind lyrics written on them. Staind is that one band that eats its own feces on stage right? Maybe that *is* interesting.

Well, I can't remember what's on THE LIST anymore, so just take off something Adam put on that isn't Hair Police. I am feeling vindictive, but not that vindictive.

Adam: Andy can remove Hair Police if he likes, though I doubt he's heard that record. Don't let him remove Matthew Welch, though, he knows not what he does.

Andy: I dug the Hair Police album as well as the Zs one, and since I never heard Welch, I'm not going to knock it off. I think then that I will remove The Sunlandic Twins. I thought Satanic Panic in the Attic was an incredible pop album, but it was followed up with this enjoyable, yet lackluster affair. The album starts out nicely enough, but by the end it kind of peters out. Was it too soon for a new album? Was it that I had unreal expectations after Satanic Panic...? While I really enjoy The Sunlandic Twins, I don't think it's as innovative nor as interesting as the preceeding album, and therefore not LIST-worthy. And now, thanks to Adam's poor New Pornographers choice, almost all the great pop has been removed. Enjoy your heartless world, you pricks.

Dick: I had reason to suspect this in the past, but your comment has confirmed it. Andy, you have bad taste in music and couldn't spot a good pop song if it fucked you in the eye.

Andy: Now you're going to get it, shitface. Not only have I been skullfucked by pop before, but I wrote the fucking book on spotting pop songs. The two-breasted warbler? Discovered it. The red-ranged torbling. I created that piece of horseshit at Monsanto's laboratory. Flengrove and the Feathered Skywhinge? I made that one up just now, but you get the point. You want to tell me I have bad taste in music? I'm going to fuck your shit up, bitch. Just kidding! I like you, Dick, but you have no one to blame for picking The Sunlandic Twins but yourself. Don't take out your feelings of guilt and angst on me for pointing out what you already knew. The first step on the road to acceptance is accepting that you were wrong. Take that step and be free. Just like Flengrove.

Dick: Funny. Also, wrong. I'm proud to have nominated The Sunlandic Twins. It beats out Satanic Panic in the Attic and every album released last year, no sweat.

Daron: Well, I guess Jesus isn't even going to try and stop this from being removed, so your elimination stands.

Andy: Who is Jestus?

Jim: I think he fought with Captain Moroni against the Native Americans.

Daron: That's it for THE LIST this year. Here are the final nominees for the reader poll: