The Music of 2011

ARTIST OF THE YEAR: Bon Iver

You could’ve given me 50 options for who I thought would be my favorite musician of 2011 and I would never have come close to guessing Justin Vernon, a.k.a. Bon Iver. The bearded wonder symbolizes everything I’ve come to loathe about indie music. Or so I thought. The story of Vernon’s first album, where he poured his heart out after a bad breakup while sequestered in a Wisconsin cabin, just seemed way too precious for my tastes. 

But Vernon has a tougher edge to him than I gave him credit for, despite the falsetto. This year I’ve bought just about every Bon Iver track ever released (which, admittedly, isn’t much), and the band’s dominated my year like no other. I have no idea what Vernon’s singing most of the time, and it really doesn’t matter. He has a way of evoking emotion just the way he delivers his music. It’s addictive, challenging, and, ultimately, rewarding work.

Honorable Mentions

The Avett Brothers

Brian Fallon

Florence + the Machine

Dave Hause

John Mark McMillan

My Morning Jacket

Radiohead

Chuck Ragan

ALBUM OF THE YEAR: “Bon Iver,” Bon Iver (2011)

I undervalued this album when I reviewed it earlier this year. I was probably just looking for an out so as not to seem like a sucker for giving yet another glowing review to one of the most acclaimed releases of the year. My main complaint—that the middle trio of songs drags the album down—has been eradicated. Instead, I hear in “Bon Iver” a kind rock symphony, where groups of songs hang together in distinct movements. The first four tracks offer a breadth and scope of sound that continue to reward repeated listens; the middle complements all that earlier bombast like a deep breath; and then the final trio blends together with cathartic fire and releases you into the night. 

Sometimes albums just grab you, and that’s what “Bon Iver” did for me in 2011. I didn’t expect it, and secretly didn’t even want it to happen. But I’ve returned to this disc over and over and over again this year. It works just as well on a breezy summer night as it does on a foggy, rainy, afternoon in November. Like The National’s Matt Berninger, Vernon provides snatches of imagery that stick with you, like “Christmas night, it clutched the light, the hallow bright.” “Bon Iver” is packed with moments like these.

Some of my all-time favorite artists released new albums this year, and each one I thought would replace “Bon Iver” as my favorite—or so I hoped. But none did. And so I’m left to admit that, much to my own annoyance, Bon Iver won a new convert this year.

Honorable Mentions

“Circuital,” My Morning Jacket

“Covering Ground,” Chuck Ragan

“Elsie,” The Horrible Crowes

“Going Out in Style,” Dropkick Murphys

“iTunes Session,” The Gaslight Anthem

“The Medicine,” John Mark McMillan (2010)

“Paper Airplane,” Alison Krauss & Union Station

“Resolutions,” Dave Hause

“Rome,” Danger Mouse & Daniele Luppi

“Ukulele Songs,” Eddie Vedder

SONG OF THE YEAR: “Perth,” Bon Iver (from 2011’s “Bon Iver”)

This was a tough year for me on a number of fronts, yet one I’m better for having lived through. “Perth” sums that feeling up perfectly. It opens with plaintive, barely audible guitar and then steadily adds more pieces—and more volume—until it absolutely explodes into a percussive extravaganza 2 minutes 32 seconds in. This is my single favorite moment of any song this year, and it is the sole reason why I bought “Bon Iver” in the first place.

Vernon’s lyrics are nearly indecipherable on the album, and reading them often leads to just more confusion about what this guy is actually trying to say. But the chorus (if you can call it that) in “Perth” embodies the mixed bag that was my 2011. “Still alive for you, love,” to me, is a statement of honest hope, which is what I’m always looking for. That line admits that there’s been pain to bear—otherwise why would you need such reassurance in the first place? But there’s a dogged determination to it, an intentional optimism. This, in essence, is how I try to live my life: I have no patience for people who live in a bubble, yet I also have no tolerance for those who refuse to try for something more, something better, something greater. 

That’s a lot to read into one line, I know, but favorite songs have a way of doing that for me. Here are some more …

“Art of Almost,” Wilco (from 2011’s “The Whole Love”)

This seven-minute epic opener to Wilco’s latest album summarizes everything I hope the band can be in its latter days. It finds the perfect balance between Wilco’s various shades, while pressing through to new ground at the same time. There are too many layers to unpack here, but this is a strong Song of the Year contender … just a brilliant piece of work that I love, love, love. From Nels Cline’s fiery solo to Glenn Kotche’s superb percussion to Jeff Tweedy’s recapturing of his sense of adventure and melody, it’s the type of track you hope a band still has the energy and vision and balls to create as they grow older. Too bad the rest of “The Whole Love” wasn’t nearly as good. 

“Baba O’Riley,” The Gaslight Anthem (from 2011’s iTunes Session)

My new favorite cover of this Who classic. Every band member is pitch-perfect here, but special shout out to Alex Levine for his sick bass work in the final minute. 

“Balthazar, Impresario,” Frank Turner (from 2011’s “England Keep My Bones”)

Tough call here picking a favorite from Turner’s excellent new album, but this acoustic bonus track paints such a beautiful picture of a musician making his last, unheralded stand, it wins out. 

“Barton Hollow,” The Civil Wars (from 2011’s “Barton Hollow”)

You know the music that plays during the commercials and credits for “Justified” (my favorite show on TV)? Yeah, this is like that, minus the rapping. Incredible song. Just wish there had been more of this and less mopey Swell Season ripoffs on the rest of the album.

“Behold the Hurricane,” The Horrible Crowes (from 2011’s “Elsie”)

OK, so Brian Fallon’s side project didn’t quite live up to my expectations. Nevertheless, he still delivered three outstanding tracks on that album that I find it impossible to choose one over the other, so I’m going with all three. This is the purest “Gaslight”-type track on the record, and it’ll leave you humming the melody long after the music stops.

“Biloxi Parish,” The Gaslight Anthem (unreleased track debuted live in 2011)

Yes, my favorite songwriter on the planet is gonna pop up a lot on this list. Deal with it. This new cut takes Gaslight in yet another new direction, with its crunchy riff providing the most classic-rock Anthem in the band’s young catalog. 

“Black Betty & the Moon,” The Horrible Crowes (from 2011’s “Elsie”)

When I first heard Brian Fallon was taking a break from Gaslight to make “nighttime music,” I had no idea what to expect. But somehow when I first heard this tremendous lounge-y number it was exactly what I wanted from the project, without knowing how to articulate it. Fallon is forceful but subtle, singing right in the sweet spot of his range about a tale of a woman who allowed the world to change who she is into what she thinks people want her to be. “Black Betty,” at just 3 minutes flat, is one of the best songs Fallon’s ever written.

“Carolina Tide,” John Mark McMillan (from 2010’s “The Medicine”)

If I could write a song, I’d hope it would come out something like John Mark McMillan, a Christian guy who sounds like he grew up listening to Pearl Jam, Led Zeppelin, and Tom Petty and found a way to infuse those influences with his own faith. I came across “The Medicine” a year later, but it instantly became one of my favorite albums of recent years. This is exactly what Christian musicians should aspire to be. There are any number of choice cuts from this album (which can’t be said, unfortunately, from his new record that came out this year), but “Carolina Tide” wins because I love the central image of going to the beach to try and rid yourself of guilt and come back a refreshed, reclaimed person.

“Cready Stomp,” Pearl Jam (from 2011’s “Vs./“Vitalogy” re-issue)

How did this incredible demo jam never become a full-fledged Pearl Jam track?!?! This is one of the hardest-rocking cuts the band’s ever written; so tough, in fact, it actually sounds more like Soundgarden than “classic” Pearl Jam. I’m mystified and annoyed that Eddie Vedder never put lyrics to this piece, because just imagining his voice soaring above this maelstrom gives me a little bit of the chills. Argh …

“Dirty Rain,” Ryan Adams (from 2011’s “Ashes & Fire”)

Adams’ first album in three years isn’t quite the comeback I was hoping for—a bit too much of the same droopiness throughout—but this album-opening track reminds me why I’ve followed this mercurial man for a decade through all his various shape shifts. This stripped-down country/blues is straight outta “Heartbreaker” awesomeness. It’s Adams at his very best.

“Discoverer,” R.E.M. (from 2011’s “Collapse Into Now”)

R.E.M. called it quits this year, but before they left the trio dropped one more classic on us. I’ve never been a big fan of the band, but this is certainly my favorite type of R.E.M. track. Soaring chorus, catchy melody, a tough edge but still poppy, and chiming guitars. Nice job here, boys. 

“Give It Up,” Gangstagrass (2011)

Did I mention “Justified” is my favorite show on TV? Yeah, any song associated with that series is likely gonna show up on this list. This one was used in the Season 2 promos.

“Houses of the Holy,” Led Zeppelin (from 1975’s “Physical Graffiti,” as performed live at Constitution Hall on 2.1.11 by Robert Plant and the Band of Joy)

This has never been one of my go-to Zep tracks, but Plant’s slowed-down, country-fied re-imagining turns it into a masterpiece. 

“Into the Mystic,” Van Morrison (from 1970’s “Moondance”)

Tony Kornheiser calls this the greatest single song ever written. After giving it a good many listens this year, I can’t say I exactly agree with him … but I definitely see where he’s coming from. Gorgeous stuff. 

“Ladykiller,” The Horrible Crowes (from 2011’s “Elsie”)

Fallon reached out to his full range of influences for this album, so it should come as no surprise that Springsteen pops up. Only this is the “Tunnel of Love” version, which is a surprise. This song is so smooth. It fits Fallon’s voice wonderfully. 

“Lay My Burden Down,” Alison Krauss & Union Station (from 2011’s “Paper Airplane”)

You know why Alison Krauss and Robert Plant were so great together? Because they’re both just great. Plant was the first to get an album out following the duo’s one-off Grammy-winning duet from 2007, but Krauss more than held her own with this outstanding effort back with her old mates from Union Station. Krauss has the voice of an angel, and nowhere on the new album is that quality more apparent than here.

“Lost in the World,” Kanye West (from 2010’s “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy”)

Kanye West’s latest solo album—like all of his work—is massively overrated. But sampling Bon Iver’s little-known “Woods” and spinning it into this big-beat manifesto was pure genius. 

“Meet You in the Middle,” Chuck Ragan (from 2011’s “Covering Ground”)

Ragan’s ode to life on the road is one of my favorite records of the year, offering innumerable choice tracks. This one gets the nod for prominently featuring—who else?—Brian Fallon. Do yourself a favor and go find this album. Ragan is so intense, you probably won’t even notice he’s playing punk rock on acoustic guitar and violin with no percussion. His Leonidas roar voice fills all the empty gaps.

“Murder in the City,” The Avett Brothers (from 2006’s “The Second Gleam,” as performed live on 2.18.11 at Constitution Hall)

There could’ve been no better way for the Avetts to open their first show after a game-changing performance at the Grammys than this tender track about the love only a family can provide. One of four brothers, the line about their father’s love sticks out to me, in particular. But moreover this was a statement by the Avetts that no matter how much success they experience, their core will remain the same. 

“No Weather,” Brian Fallon (from 2011’s Revival Tour compilation)

Fallon had himself quite a year for having no official Gaslight releases. This song was contributed to a comp heralding his tour of Europe with Chuck Ragan and Dave Hause, and the acoustic country stomper is a stirring reminder of the breadth of his musical range. 

“Peg O’ My Heart,” Dropkick Murphys (from 2011’s “Going Out in Style”)

This light-hearted rocker probably would’ve been on this list even without Springsteen’s guest spot. The Boss’ invigorating cameo just makes it that much easier to select from all the other excellent tracks on this record.

“Pray for Tuscon,” Dave Hause (from 2011’s “Resolutions”)

I first heard this song way back in January 2010 when Hause opened for Brian Fallon at the Black Cat, and I was absolutely blown away. It took another year for the Loved Ones frontman to officially release his first solo album, but it was well worth the wait. “Resolutions” came out just two weeks after the horrible shooting spree in Arizona, and “Pray for Tuscon” instantly took on a higher meaning. A Song of the Year contender, for sure.

“Saints and Sinners,” Flogging Molly (from 2011’s “Speed of Darkness”)

Flogging Molly haven’t released a truly great record in nearly a decade, but each time out they seem to manage one or two cuts that recall their former unhinged, unabashed glory. This is one. 

“Season’s Trees,” Danger Mouse and Daniele Luppi (from 2011’s “Rome”)

When I first heard Danger Mouse was working on a faux Spaghetti Western soundtrack with songs featuring Jack White, the mention of Norah Jones’ involvement in the project was merely an afterthought. Well, turns out she outshines White on the album, especially here in a song destined more for a Tarantino movie than a Western. 

“Shake It Off,” Florence + the Machine (from 2011’s “Cermonials”)

Flo’s hit HUGE in the two years since releasing her debut album, “Lungs,” and that may have gone to her head a bit. The new album is a much more somber affair than the charming kitchen-sink mentality of her first effort. “Shake It Off” is Florence at her bombastic best, though, rattling windows with her clarion call of a voice soaring over top of a nu-gospel sound. 

“Skinny Love,” Bon Iver (from 2008’s “For Emma, Forever Ago”)

So when I went down the rabbit hole this year on Bon Iver, this is one of several standout tracks I discovered (go find his “Blood Bank” EP on iTunes, btw). It’s harder and tougher than you’d think this guy could and should be, bringing in a bit of acoustic Zeppelin flair. It’s also one of the tracks where he doesn’t employ his trademark falsetto, and I wish he’d do that more often.

“Staircase,” Radiohead (from 2011’s “From the Basement” session)

It started with “15 Step” from “In Rainbows,” but “Staircase” is the song that finally made me, if not a Radiohead fan, then at least a secret admirer. I’ve never denied the band’s talent; it’s merely Thom Yorke’s dying-cow voice I haven’t been able to abide (and stlll cannot, for the most part). He tones that down here, though, making room for Radiohead’s incredible rhythm section—my favorite element of the band, here boosted by Robert Plant’s drummer on a second kit. “Staircase” is the kind of song U2 tries to write when they want to sound cool; Radiohead, on the other hand, seems able to toss off cuts like this effortlessly. 

“Victory Dance,” My Morning Jacket (from 2011’s “Circuital”)

For as seminal a band as Pink Floyd is, you don’t often hear them referenced as a benchmark for newer acts. That’s probably a testament to how unique Floyd truly was. But My Morning Jacket’s dark, swirling, ethereal opening track to their outstanding new album comes as close to evoking Floyd’s sound as any band I’ve heard in recent memory, albeit with a touch of The Grateful Dead thrown in for good measure. This song will haunt your dreams. 

“You’re True,” Eddie Vedder (from 2011’s “Ukulele Songs”)

You gotta hand it to Mr. Vedder for sticking with it. When I first heard he was releasing an album of only songs featuring the tiny instrument, I figured it would either suck or be totally great. Thankfully, perhaps surprisingly, the result is the latter. Vedder’s obsession with an instrument most people think of as a joke is just one more reason why I can’t help but love the guy. And he gets more out of it than probably anyone in history ever has.

The Music of 2010

Despite my CD of the Day project that dusted off some older CDs in my collection, I still made plenty of time for great new music in 2010. As is my Black Friday custom, all of the music below comes with the highest possible recommendation as you search for stocking stuffers and the like.

ARTIST OF THE YEAR

Trombone Shorty

I’d never heard of this young New Orleans phenom until this year, and then it seemed like he was everywhere. And with good reason. Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews plays with a fire in his belly, whether he’s attacking his audience with his eponymous instrument, squealing on trumpet, singing, or dancing his way across the stage. The guy is electric, both on his new record, “Backatown,” and in concert. His blend of rock, funk, hip hop, and R&B is infectious, envigorating, and, as a trombone player myself, inspiring. His show at the 9:30 Club in August was so great, we’re going back for more on New Year’s Day.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

The Avett Brothers

The Gaslight Anthem

Patty Griffin

Robert Plant

The Whigs

ALBUM OF THE YEAR

“American Slang,” The Gaslight Anthem (2010)

This should be no surprise, really, since I devoted five days and thousands of words to this spectacular album earlier this year. Everybody always talks about a “sophomore slump,” but third albums are tricky, too, and dangerous. Gaslight had a lot of pressure living up to “The ’59 Sound,” and they nailed it. And not by simply re-recording that album, but by going in a new, more difficult direction.

“American Slang” is the band’s finest record, their most well crafted. Brian Fallon was already one of my favorite songwriters of all time before this album, and yet his work here reaches a new level of depth. These are lyrics you want to sit with and read along to the music, spend time thinking about; I could quote at least a dozen favorite lines. What I love most is that he tackles difficult personal issues without losing his inherent optimism. This may be Gaslight’s version of “Darkness on the Edge of Town,” but there’s light at the end of their tunnel.

And the songs! As you’ll see below, I finally managed to settle on one, but at least five tracks from this album were considered my “favorite” at one point or another this year, and I still haven’t fully decided. Pop, punk, soul, classic rock … “American Slang” has it all, yet it all still sounds distinctly Gaslight.

The band set itself apart from its peers with this record.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

“Backatown,” Trombone Shorty (2010)

“Band of Joy,” Robert Plant (2010)

“Crazy Heart,” soundtrack (2010)

“Ghosts on the Boardwalk,” The Bouncing Souls (2010)

“Good Morning, Magpie,” Murder By Death (2010)

“I and Love and You,” The Avett Brothers (2009)

“In the Dark,” The Whigs (2010)

“The Promise,” Bruce Springsteen (2010)

“Soulsville,” Huey Lewis and the News (2010)

“Why You Runnin’” EP, Lissie (2009)

“You Are Not Alone,” Mavis Staples (2010)

DISAPPOINTMENTS

“High Violet,” The National (2010)

“Maya,” M.I.A. (2010)

“The Suburbs,” Arcade Fire (2010)

SONG OF THE YEAR

“Suburbia,” Trombone Shorty (from 2010’s “Backatown”)

Never would I have thought my favorite song of 2010 wouldn’t have a single lyric, but greatness is greatness, and “Suburbia” is great. There’s so much going on in this trombone-and-guitar manifesto I don’t know where lyrics would even fit, anyway. There’s so much power in this track; Trombone Shorty is absolutely blasting away on his instrument, with a backing band equal to his call. What I really love about this song, though, is how it moves and changes, shifting shapes in so many ways over the course of just 3 minutes 20 seconds. And yet, the powerhouse core riff is always there, waiting to explode again. Since I first heard this song, whenever I needed a boost of energy in 2010, I went straight to “Suburbia.”

25 HONORABLE MENTIONS

“Ain’t No Grave,” Johnny Cash (from 2010’s “Ain’t No Grave”)

Johnny Cash’s final album isn’t as good as the other American Recordings, but this track, which plays like a sequel to “God’s Gonna Cut You Down,” was worth waiting for. The sparse, chain-rattling chiller is one of his best from this series.

“All Those Yesterdays,” Pearl Jam (from 1998’s “Yield,” as performed live 5.13.10)

As I wrote back in May, this was one of my Pearl Jam “bucket list” songs. Never thought I’d hear it in person (they’ve only played it 13 times since 1998), but always hoped to. It did not disappoint. The closing track to my favorite Pearl Jam album was as majestic as ever.

“Awake My Soul,” Mumford and Sons (from 2009’s “Sigh No More”)

In the Star Wars novels from recent years, there’s a phrase the authors like to use: suit action to words. That’s the idea with this song. I do actually feel revitalized after listening to it. This was a strong contender for Song of the Year from a brilliant new band.

“Big Eyes,” The Bouncing Souls (from 2010’s “Ghosts on the Boardwalk”)

The Souls continued to stretch themselves with this album, and this song, in particular. It plays like a more serious take on the front-porch feel of “The Pizza Song.” With its acoustic rhythm guitar and overall toned-down vibe, this shows real growth and is one of the band’s best tracks.

“Bloodbuzz Ohio,” The National (from 2010’s “High Violet”)

Yeah, I hated this album. But if I only had one song to try and make someone a National fan, “Bloodbuzz Ohio” wouldn’t be a bad choice. Everything I love about the band is in this song: the pounding drums; the swirling guitars; the piano flourishes that dance around the edges; and Matt Berninger’s resonant voice, which sounds as good as ever here. This is the one song from “High Violet” that holds up to “Boxer,” which is the best compliment I can possibly give it.

“Cry to Me,” Huey Lewis and the News (from 2010’s “Soulsville”)

There’s a full post coming about this album of Stax covers, but for now let me just say: How great is this?!?! Huey and the News may be a fun bar-band-gone-huge from the ’80s, but this release, their first in years, demonstrates there was a lot of depth hiding behind those winking and smiling hit songs. Tough to choose a favorite, so this one may or may not be here for its association with the “Dirty Dancing” soundtrack.

“The Day,” Murder By Death (from 2010’s “Good Morning, Magpie”)

After a wonderfully idiosyncratic album, MBD reminds at the conclusion to “Magpie” they can still bring the apocalyptic heavy. “The Day” is spooky, scary, spectacular stuff. The last 30 seconds alone make this song one of my favorites of the year.

“Everywhere I Go,” Lissie (from 2009’s “Why You Runnin’” EP/2010’s “Catching A Tiger” LP)

If you’re gonna sing about angels, then you should probably have the voice of one. That’s Lissie, who stunned me with her 2009 debut EP's stark beauty. “Everywhere I Go” gets the nod here, but really any of those five songs could be considered a favorite of the past year. Unfortunately, she fell victim to pop sensibilities on her first official LP, which makes the inclusion of this song stand out like a sore thumb. Still, when she hits that “ANGELS” note … wow.

“Fallin’ & Flyin’,” Jeff Bridges and Colin Farrell (from 2010’s “Crazy Heart” soundtrack)

There are a handful of great songs from Bridges on this outstanding soundtrack to a spectacular film, but I went with this one because it was my favorite scene in the movie, when Farrell joins Bridges onstage. Bridges does this little motion telling Farrell to get back on the mic that I just love, like a dad showing pride for his son. Bridges is magnificent as both an actor and singer, and this is just one of several examples. (Farrell’s shockingly good as a Western vocalist, too.)

“Far Away,” Jose Gonzalez/“Deadman’s Gun,” Ashtar Command (from 2010’s “Red Dead Redemption” soundtrack)

“Red Dead Redemption” is one of the best video games I’ve ever played. Entertainment Weekly described the smash hit from Rockstar (“Grand Theft Auto”) like walking around in “Deadwood,” and that’s just about right. And not only is the game awesome, but so is the soundtrack. These two moody Western ballads come at crucial points in the game and set the perfect tone for what’s happening on screen. They’re a testament to the level of quality Rockstar achieved with this singular title.

“Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise,” The Avett Brothers (from 2009’s “I and Love and You”)

The Avetts’ voices speak to me in an elemental way I’m a little at a loss to explain. It’s the clarity, I think. They sing with such grace, and power, and finesse, and energy—sometimes all at once, sometimes just pieces of those things. This song is also a good representation of the positivity the Avetts strive to create—in themselves, in their fans, in their world. It’s right there in the title: Everyone has doubts, but there’s always reason for hope; you have to use that hope to drown out the darkness in yourself. Be aggressive about it. It’s a song about living out your dreams, but the subject matter is handled frankly, realistically, and in that acknowledgement is its power.

This song includes one of my favorite lyrics of the past year:

When nothing is old, deserved or expected

And your life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected

If you’re loved by someone you’re never rejected

Decide what to be and go be it

Match lines like that to a sweeping, moving score, and you have one of my favorite songs of the year.

“Heavy in Your Arms,” Florence + the Machine (from 2010’s “Eclipse” soundtrack)

Florence Welch is on the verge of exploding into the popular consciousness. Her 2009 debut, “Lungs,” was one of my favorites from last year and it’s still gaining traction—one of those slow-burn situations. Last weekend she delivered one of the best “Saturday Night Live” performances I’ve ever seen, and next year she’s opening for U2. This song isn’t one of her very best, but it’s a more than serviceable introduction for the Twilight crowd, which certainly can’t hurt (just ask Paramore and Muse). The thunderous percussion, dramatic pauses and changes of direction, and, more than anything, Welch’s clarion-call of a voice … it’s all here in this track.

“Hundred/Million,” The Whigs (from 2010’s “In the Dark”)

The year I finally joined Facebook, The Whigs’ Parker Gispert summarized the digital age with this song: “There’s a hundred million people in my mind/Which is me, and which is not?” That’s the chorus of this sinewy rocker, which kicks off one of my favorite albums of the year.

“Hustle and Cuss,” The Dead Weather (from 2010’s “Sea of Cowards”)

I instantly fell in love with this lowdown, dirty piece of blues when it was used on the soundtrack for UFC’s hype series for the Brock Lesnar/Cain Velasquez heavyweight title fight in October. It played in the background as Lesnar went through his grueling, ferocious workout, and fit the mountain of a man perfectly. Even though Lesnar went on to lose that bout, I’ll always think back on the mixture of those images and this song with fondness. It takes Jack White an album to figure out his bands; he’s now three-for-three on second efforts, as “Cowards” is a significant improvement over last year’s “Horehound.”

“Kentucky Rain,” Elvis Presley (from 2009’s “From Elvis in Memphis: Legacy Edition”)

As I mentioned last year at this time, my appreciation for Elvis has grown steadily since visiting Graceland in 2008. It culminated this January, as there was quite a bit of hype surrounding Presley’s 75th birthday. I’m actually drawn more to his latter-career period, so after putting “Suspicious Minds” on my list for 2009, I went looking for more of the same and found this stirring gem on the bonus disc of “From Elvis in Memphis.” The entire album is great, but this was the track that most captured the power of “Suspicious Minds.” That man sure could sing.

“Long Hard Times to Come”/“On the Run,” Gangstagrass (from 2010’s “Justified” soundtrack)

My favorite new TV show of the season, Timothy Olyphant’s modern Western “Justified” was accompanied by two breakthrough tracks from Gangstagrass, who mixes bluegrass and hip-hop so well, I wonder why someone didn’t think of it a long time ago. “Long Hard Times to Come” plays over the show’s opening credits, while “On the Run” was in the trailer. Both songs perfectly capture the sentiment of the show and were crucial elements of why I loved the series so much. Can’t wait ’til February for Season 2!

“The Only Sound That Matters,” Robert Plant (from 2010’s “Band of Joy”)

Plenty of goodies to pick from on Plant’s outstanding new album, but this simple country-feeling ballad rose to the top, if for no other reason than the main guitar lick reminds me of Springsteen’s “My Hometown.” The only thing that could’ve made this charming effort even better is Alison Krauss’ voice.

“Orphans,” The Gaslight Anthem (from 2010’s “American Slang”)

I’ve gone back and forth and back again on which song to select from my Album of the Year. I finally settled on “Orphans” because it’s the capstone for the album—the mission statement. If I had to pick one line to summarize the entire record, it would be from “Orphans”: “And the clothes I wore just don’t fit my soul anymore.” It’s a song about moving on, standing on your own, establishing yourself. It is “American Slang.”

“Radioactive,” Kings of Leon (from 2010’s “Come Around Sundown”)

I love the sentiment of this song, that no matter how much things change you can always go back to your roots to find some clarity. It’s a fitting first single for this band, who became insanely popular between this release and their last, 2008’s platinum-selling “Only By the Night.” The gospel choir is a great touch, too, for one of the band’s best efforts.

“Rock Problems,” The Hold Steady (from 2010’s “Heaven Is Whenever”)

Craig Finn’s self-deprecating sendup of frontmen complaining about their success is a breath of fresh air. Over one of the hardest-rocking songs on his band’s new album, Finn speaks from a fan’s perspective about how those of us in the real world just can’t sympathize with his “rock and roll problems.” “This is just what we wanted,” Finn agrees. 1993 Eddie Vedder, are you listening?

“Snow Is Gone,” Josh Ritter (from 2010’s “Hello Starling” re-release)

So this folky gem would’ve been great any time I heard it, but it just happened to come across my radar following the worst snowstorm of my life. There couldn’t have been any better timing for a track that sounds like spring breaking through winter's gloom. I defy you not to at least tap a toe to this, which is like the best type of Ryan Adams song—only joyful instead of drunkenly morose.

“Sons of Liberty,” Frank Turner (from 2009’s “Poetry of the Deed”)

I’m sure Frank Turner is a liberal (aren’t they all?), but this song was a personal anthem this year as I watched President Obama, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, and their ilk reshape our nation in their own socialist image. The last line of this rousing Irish folk/punk monster track eviscerates those who want the government to run their lives for them:

’Cause a man who’d trade his liberty

For a safe and dreamless sleep

Doesn’t deserve the both of them

And neither shall he keep

Amen.

“You Are Not Alone,” Mavis Staples (from 2010’s “You Are Not Alone”)

The inspired pairing of this gospel legend with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy led to the latter’s best song in years. Tweedy’s duet here with Staples meshes so perfectly, it’s like their two voices become one. It’s a beautiful song, both lyrically and musically. More of this on the next Wilco album, please, Jeff.

‘Crazy Heart’

“Crazy Heart” is like a more uplifting, more satisfying version of 2008’s “The Wrestler.” Where Mickey Rourke played Randy “The Ram” Robinson, a broken down, washed up wrestler, in “Crazy Heart” Jeff Bridges plays a broken down, washed up country singer, Bad Blake. The two movies follow a remarkably similar path—until the end, anyway.

Bridges is outstanding as Blake, a 57-year-old former country star who, when he’s not playing ignominious venues like bowling alleys, divides his time between one-night stands, Spanish television, cigarettes, and bottles of whiskey. His only constant companions are his ’78 Chevy Suburban—about as junked out as he is—and his electric and acoustic guitars.

But, like Rourke’s “Ram,” Blake still loves what he does—he just wishes it paid more. He comes alive on stage, and honors requests for old favorites he’s played hundreds of times. And that’s where this movie really takes off: the music. T-Bone Burnett proves once again why he’s the go-to guy when it comes to soundtracks with a sparkling collection of country and blues choices, along with several fantastic originals he wrote for the film. Bridges is a revelation as a singer—who knew?—with a voice that sounds a little like a Southern version of Huey Lewis. He’s convincing at every musical turn (so's Colin Farrell, for that matter), and first-time director Scott Cooper makes the wise—and all-too rare—decision to let the actor sing live in the scene instead of lip-synching.

In an era where the term “sellout” is thrown around everywhere, “Crazy Heart” has a lot to say about music—how it’s produced and consumed—without making any high-handed judgments either way. Blake makes no bones about his desire to make money from playing and writing music, but he doesn’t want to whore himself out, either. He sticks to his own code of artistic integrity, and it’s fascinating to watch that play out over the course of the film. One of my favorite little scenes occurs when a music journalist (the ever-engaging Maggie Gyllenhaal) asks Blake if he ever gets sick of playing one of his hits. Blake’s response: No way. That song’s been good to him, and he’ll be loyal to it forever. That's just one of many, many more music-related moments to cherish in this film.

Though it mirrors “The Wrestler” in almost every aspect, “Crazy Heart” is different in one critical way: it provides closure. Where “The Wrestler” just sort of … ended, this movie concludes. Not that everything wraps up in a nice, neat little package; Blake’s done too much hard livin’ and made too many bad choices for that to happen. But the main characters have definite arcs. I left the theater supremely satisfied, something that couldn’t be said for my walk out of “The Wrestler.”

I guess having two such similar pictures arrive so close together is why “Crazy Heart” hasn’t earned the type of buzz of the former, and that’s a shame. Don’t miss this show.

Grade: A-

I’m Your Third Man, Girl: Gaslight Title Next Record ‘American Slang’

"There are no names and none of the old stuff. I feel like I've said a lot of what I had to say about that old stuff. I'm moving on. ... ['American Slang'] is a hyper-literal album. These stories are coming out of my life and the reflections on the things I've gotten as I've gotten older. It's more autobiographical, definitely more direct. Not so shrouded in mystery. I'm not trying to confuse anyone with a trail of images on this one." —Brian Fallon of The Gaslight Anthem, talking about his band's forthcoming album, "American Slang"

Third albums proved game-changers for many of my favorite bands. For some reason, that third release always seems to make a dramatic impact on the artist’s career, whether positive or negative.

Going by Fallon’s quotation above, looks like The Gaslight Anthem are following in that tradition. I’m trying not to read too much into it or allow one comment to influence my feelings toward a CD before I’ve even heard one cut. But when he talks about getting rid of the stories and the names, etc., it gives me pause. This could be reflective of an entire identity shift for the band, because I’d argue those are some of the core elements of The Gaslight Anthem.

But I don’t want to go too crazy. Fallon has yet to write a song I don’t like, so why all of a sudden should I think he’s going to start now? If he’s writing about more personal stuff, fine—I like him, so I’d like to know more about him, anyway.

The possibility that "American Slang" could change Gaslight forever got me thinking about other third records. Here’s a look at some of my favorite artists’ third albums, and what those records meant to their respective careers:

“Rock N Roll,” Ryan Adams (2003)

Forced by his record label to record this train wreck as a more “appropriate” follow up to his previous album, “Gold,” Adams traded in his country blues for awful rock and roll imitation. Though he’d come back with some spectacular songs over the next several years, after this his career never got fully back on track and didn’t fulfill the promise of his first two CDs.

“A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar,” Dashboard Confessional (2003)

Dashboard plugs in! It was a pretty big deal at the time, and led to a great album. Unfortunately, it was the last great one for Chris Carrabba. Electricity has not served him well in the years since, as he’s drifted further and further into the morass of weak, generic pop/punk. “Hands Down” is gold, though.

“Before These Crowded Streets,” Dave Matthews Band (1998)

OK, technically it’s their fourth album, but “Remember Two Things” is more like an extended EP than a full-fledged album. Regardless, the wheels started getting a little loose on what was certainly the band’s weakest album to date. At the time I convinced myself all of these longwinded tracks were awesome, but turns out there were only a couple truly great songs: “Crush” and “The Dreaming Tree.” The rest are just OK, and it would take the band more than a decade to recapture their previous glory.

“To Bring You My Love,” PJ Harvey (1995)

For her third album, Polly Jean expanded her palette by creating a fuller, thicker, almost industrial sound at times around her incisive voice. In moving away from the raw-nerve feel of her first two albums, Harvey created what was hailed by many as one of the best albums of the ’90s.

“Boys and Girls in America,” The Hold Steady (2006)

The hardcore fans can argue all they want over which of THS’ four albums is best, but most people had never heard of the band before this one. It put them on the map in a major way, landing on several year-end top 10 lists.

“Led Zeppelin III,” Led Zeppelin (1970)

The turning point in Led Zeppelin’s career, “III” saw the band step outside the hard-rock blues of their first two albums to embrace wider sounds, namely acoustic folk. At the time people didn’t really know how to handle a beautiful track like “That’s the Way” coming from the malevolent gods of thundering riffs, but without “III,” there probably would’ve been no “IV.” Oh yeah, “Immigrant Song,” “Gallows Pole,” and “Tangerine” weren’t half bad, either.

“Vitalogy,” Pearl Jam (1994)

This album was just weird and dark enough to do exactly what the band hoped: Blow a hole in their popularity and bring their stardom down to a more manageable level. They'd never be on the cover of Time magazine again, and that's the way they wanted it. "Vitalogy" also, by the way, includes some of their greatest songs, including “Corduroy,” “Immortality,” and “Better Man.”

“OK Computer,” Radiohead (1997)

Not a Radiohead fan, I cannot comment with authority on the specifics of this album. However, I do know it was a watershed moment for the band and was hailed as one of the best albums of the decade. Seems to me it set the path for all Radiohead would accomplish in the next one.

“Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness,” The Smashing Pumpkins (1995)

Billy Corgan and the Pumpkins peaked both artistically and popularly with this monster double-disc set, which featured some of the band’s biggest hits including “Tonight, Tonight,” “1979,” “Thirty-Three,” “Bullet with Butterfly Wings,” “Zero,” and my favorite Pumpkins song, “Muzzle.” Corgan has been no less ambitious since, but the results haven’t been nearly as satisfying as this mid-’90s classic.

“Final Straw,” Snow Patrol (2003)

With this record the Irishmen shed some of the idiosyncrasies of their first two albums and moved toward a slightly more traditional pop/rock form. Songs like “Run,” “How to Be Dead,” “Chocolate,” and “Spitting Games” set the stage for their U.S. breakthrough three years later with “Chasing Cars.”

“Born to Run,” Bruce Springsteen (1975)

This needs no explanation, I presume.

“Tiny Music … Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop,” Stone Temple Pilots (1996)

“Huh?” That was basically my reaction when I first heard this album. Over time, I’d come to appreciate this record very much thanks to great tracks like “Seven Caged Tigers,” “Trippin’ on a Hole in a Paper Heart,” and “Art School Girl.” But in the “Led Zeppelin III” tradition, “Tiny Music” sounded absolutely nothing like anything STP had done before. Much of it was psychedelic avant garde art-pop, and my teenage ears just weren’t ready for it. Looking back, it was the band’s best artistic achievement, if not their best album (that goes to "Purple").

“War,” U2 (1983)

The band’s first mega-album, “War” propelled U2 to superstar status on the backs of “Sunday Bloody Sunday” and “New Year’s Day.” They’d never be the same again. Nor would rock and roll.

“White Blood Cells,” The White Stripes (2001)

Though it’s not one of my favorite Stripes albums, Jack White wouldn’t be Jack White as we know him today without this breakthrough effort, thanks to the two-minute ditty “Fell in Love with a Girl.” The Lego-ized video caught everyone by storm, and White went on to become one of the most important and productive musicians of the decade.