Will Hoge - Small Town Dreams

Rock 'n' roll has always been obsessed with the idea of escape. From Springsteen's Born to Run to Green Day's American Idiot, the small town has been repeatedly painted as dead end stagnation, while the big city has always symbolized the promise of the American Dream. Those are two of my favorite albums of all time, but I'll tell you, I've never been able to fully relate to either one—if only because I'm a small town born and bred guy who finds the idea of living in the big city about as appealing as drinking gasoline. I'll take my American Dream in a world where I can own a house, see the stars, get some peace and quiet, and drive around without feeling like I'm cruising down the trench of the Death Star, thank you very much.

Luckily for me, Will Hoge is here to offer a manifesto in defense of small town life. On his 10th studio record, aptly titled Small Town Dreams, Hoge gazes back wistfully at the place he grew up. And whether he's telling autobiographical stories, or dreaming up characters and narratives to populate his world, he does so in a way that anyone who's ever grown up in a so-called "dead end town" will be able to understand and appreciate.

Hoge's last record, 2013's Never Give In, was a big one for me. I ranked it as my album of the year (a title that it would have since lost to Jason Isbell's Southeastern), and I called Hoge "the underground version of Bruce Springsteen." On Small Town Dreams, though, he's a lot closer to John Mellencamp. Having gotten a taste of mainstream success around the release of his last album—first when the Eli Young Band cut his song "Even If It Breaks Your Heart" and turned it into a number one hit on country, and second when Chevrolet used another single of his, titled "Strong," for an ad campaign—it's not terribly surprising that Small Town Dreams is Hoge's most overtly countrified album to date. It's also his most mainstream, featuring co-writes on nearly every song and plenty of bids for radio airplay.

For those who have followed Hoge since the early days, parts of Small Town Dreams might be tough to swallow. Lead-off single "Middle of America," for instance, is a far-cry from the barn-storming, anti-establishment rock 'n' roll of The Man Who Killed Love, a jangly and easily digestible anthem about life in the heartland. When he released the song last summer, Hoge joked that he could have easily sent it to Blake Shelton and made a pile of money off it. He's not being big headed with that statement, either: "Middle of America," from the brief character sketches of its verses to the big "We're letting our freedom ring" hook, sounds like a surefire hit. You can bet that any number Nashville's biggest stars would have paid handsomely to snatch it up as the lead single for their respective albums.

There's no denying that "Middle of America" is the closest Hoge has ever come to sounding like everyone else, and it's not the only song on Small Town Dreams that could be described that way, either. "Better Than You" has a "woah oh" bridge section that sounds like something from Keith Urban's last album, or like Billy Currington's current hit, "We Are Tonight." The good news, though, is that Hoge is still Hoge. He's still one of the deftest songwriters in the game, capable of penning tunes that pack poignant storytelling into the confines of an instantly memorable melody. And then there's his voice, an impressive instrument with the dexterity to hit the high notes, and the weatherworn intensity to make each of songs feel genuine and lived-in. If there's one thing that sets Hoge apart from every other singer/songwriter in mainstream country music right now, it's his vocal ability, and the songs on Small Town Dreams offer strong evidence that he is aware of the fact.

Hoge plays to his strengths on the album's emotional peak, a gospel-laced homerun called "Just up the Road." Though it starts out as a simple highway-bound piano ballad, "Just up the Road" builds to a sublime and well-earned zenith, with a spot of high-wattage lead guitar improvisation (courtesy of country legend Vince Gill) and a call-and-response section built for gang vocals and live concert sing-alongs. Hoge may be a mid-level artist who mostly plays clubs and dive bars, but with this song, he's got a number that could bring out the cigarette lighters and cellphones in any arena or stadium.

What ultimately makes Small Town Dreams a great record—and one that can stack up to Hoge's past work, even if it's a bit streamlined for the mainstream audience—is its devotion to a core theme. Where most of his radio country competitors or contemporaries are putting out disconnected collections of singles, Hoge is still an album man, through and through. With Small Town Dreams, he's exploring the aforementioned rock 'n' roll ideal of escape, but looking at that concept from the other side of the tracks. Instead of mirroring Springsteen, whose characters either dreamed of getting out of their hometowns, or got trapped in them by circumstance and responsibility, Small Town Dreams is an album about how settling down in the same place where you grew up doesn't always mean settling for less.

Granted, the youthful ideal of escaping is still there in some of these songs. "I swore I'd never come back to this sleepy little one-horse dot on the map," Hoge sings in opening track and propulsive anthem "Growing up Around Here," adding "I spent 17 years trying to find my way out." But then he changes his mind: "Took a whole lot of miles, but I finally know now/I'm kinda proud of growing up around here."

A similar thing happens in "Little Bitty Dreams," a classic acoustic ballad, and the only song on Small Town Dreams that Hoge wrote solo. At the outset, the song seems like an examination of the titular small town dreams that so many of us have as kids: dreams of being a movie star, or of "thinking some day a fastball might get me out of this town." Eventually, those dreams tend to fade away, but "Little Bitty Dreams" isn't a song about the lost hopes of youth. Rather, it's a love song about how finding the right person at the right time can change your dreams and make them all come true in one fell swoop. "I met you and then I knew that my big dreams were done/I settled down in this same small town and swore you were the one/Some might call it giving up, but it don't feel that way to me/I think it's just the two of us, and our little bitty dreams," Hoge sings in the chorus. Sometimes, the greatest dreams are the people we choose to share our lives with, and this wonderful song is a reminder to cherish those things that matter most.

Themes of family and devotion run deep throughout this record. "They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To," for instance, is a loving elegy for a role model who I presume to be Hoge's grandfather. The song explores the numerous ways in which a legacy can hold strong, even long after the person who built it has stopped breathing. With lyrics like "They don't make 'em like they used to, you always used to say/That's why everything you ever built is still standing here today/That old Camaro in the carport, the fence along the lane/All the walls in this old house, right down to the family name," the song hits hard—especially if you've recently lost a parent or grandparent. The bar-band rocker "Desperate Times," meanwhile, is told from the perspective of a husband and a father who sticks around and buckles down when the waters get rough, rather than "packing the cars and running" like other weaker souls. And while "Better Than You" falls into the category of "breakup song," it comes from a narrator who can see so clearly that the best thing in his life just walked out the door.

A friend of mine, who is a fellow music writer and a fellow Hoge fan, is disappointed in this record, and thinks that Hoge is no longer pushing himself or exploring new creative ground with each album. He's not entirely wrong: even at its best, Small Town Dreams is comfortable, with songs that can often be traced back to comparable forerunners Hoge's discography. The easy thing to do would be to blame the co-writers, or the country radio establishment that Hoge is trying to cater to here. You could even blame Hoge, for being ready and willing to trade in the outsider's badge he's carried for so long. But then you have to realize that this guy has released eight LPs and two EPs in the space of 13 years, and that he's done most of it with little to no help, and minimal mainstream success or recognition.

Said another way, Hoge is long past overdue for a big break. And if he can find it by playing things a bit safer and releasing a mainstream country record like Small Town Dreams, then I'm all for it. After all, if there's a album that can make his a household name, it's the one, so tailor made it is for summertime road trips, backyard barbecues, and outdoor concerts. Sure, it's not the cathartic masterpiece that Draw the Curtains was, nor is it as wall-to-wall consistent as The Wreckage or Never Give In. But if Small Town Dreams is Hoge's ticket to bigger venues, better pay, or even just a tour bus that he doesn’t have to drive himself, I honestly can't think of a guy in the music industry more worthy of the success. The songs are still great, the live shows will still be raucous, and as evidenced by fiery album closer, "Til I Do It Again," Hoge's still got plenty of rebel left in him anyway. It's just that, with Small Town Dreams, he's ready for the big rooms.

Will Hoge - Never Give In

With a suitcase full of empty dreams
A guitar with broken strings
A busted heart that longs to sing the blues
A mind that always leads me wrong
A head full of Hank Williams songs
I’m sorry honey, but this highway’s home

The above lines were the last words that Nashville country music artist Will Hoge delivered on his 2007 masterpiece Draw the Curtains, my favorite album from that particular year and one of the five best records anyone wrote all last decade. The song they come from, “This Highway’s Home” has long functioned more or less as a weather-worn mission statement for Hoge’s career. He’s a lifer, a wandering troubadour who has never gotten to experience much of the glamor of the mainstream music industry, but a guy who has still made due with a fiercely loyal fanbase, a collective of terrific live and studio musicians, a beat-up van that functions as a tour bus, and a penchant for writing honest and heartfelt songs that bridge the gap between sun-kissed country twang, anthemic Americana, and barnstorming rock ‘n’ roll. From the wrenching break-up tunes that populated Draw the Curtains to the rage-fueled political tirades of last year’s Election-time EP, Modern American Protest Music, Hoge has always felt to me like this generation’s underground answer to Bruce Springsteen.

All of those ingredients coalesce on Never Give In, Hoge’s eighth full-length studio record and arguably his tightest and most consistent work to date. It’s also the first record he’s made in the wake of his newfound success in the mainstream country music world, though that success has not come in the traditional manner. In fact, most fans of country radio probably still don’t have a clue who Will Hoge is, but they’ve certainly heard at least one of his songs. Last year, the Eli Young Band re-recorded Hoge’s “Even If It Breaks Your Heart,” a roots pop gem from 2009’s The Wreckage, and turned it into a number one hit on the country charts (and a top 40 hit on the pop charts). Award nominations from the Grammys, the CMA, and the ACM followed, and to add to his good fortune, Hoge even landed a support slot on a Dierks Bentley arena tour. Suddenly, the workmanlike, everyman singer-songwriter was hitting the big time.

Hoge’s golden year continued this summer, when Chevy tapped a song he had written—“Strong,” which appears in bonus track form here—as the tune that would ground its 2014 Silverado ad campaign. As I watched all of this sudden success, remembering the one time I had gotten to see Hoge live—in a miniscule venue, with a crowd that couldn’t have been bigger than a hundred people—I was thrilled to see people finally discovering the guy who I’d held for years to be the best kept secret in the music industry. However, as Hoge was folded into Nashville’s mainstream country world, with an album announcement for Never Give In timed perfectly to take advantage of all the industry buzz, I worried that the album would be his sell-out record.

Instead, Never Give In is arguably Hoge’s most confident, focused, and dare I say best work to date. Drenched in E Street swagger, gospel-infused back-up vocals, and layers of B3 organ ripped straight from the finest folk-rock records of the nineties, every one of these songs feels like an instant classic, from the pile-driving anthemia of “A Different Man,” the album’s resurrection-themed commencement, to the autumnal, Kris Kristofferson lilt of “Pale September.” Not only is Never Give In devoid of weak points, but it also just feels like the record that Hoge was born to write, distilling every element that has made each of his records special into a singular work that consistently reflects his best qualities as a singer and songwriter. The gospel choirs are a callback to “When I Get My Wings,” the triumphant, church-bound closer from Number Seven (Hoge’s last full-length), while the soulfully climactic guitar solo from the piano-based, blues-laden ballad, “This Time Around,” effectively revisits “Silver or Gold,” a key track from Draw the Curtains.

However, while the nostalgia is firmly in place, the melodies strong, and the performances nothing short of incendiary, Never Give In ultimately triumphs because it does what every great country music record should: it tells vivid and wonderful stories. Hoge’s storytelling has never been stronger than it is here. He’s learned to balance massive and punchy choruses with eloquent and concise turns of phrase, and he’s also gained a touch of subtlety that was missing from much of his early work. Where the political musings of last year’s Modern American Protest Music occasionally came off as a bit heavy-handed, or where a few of Number Seven's lesser tracks felt like blatant attempts at Springsteen-like “issue” songs, the songwriting on Never Give In has a kind of effortless flow that only comes from years of experience.

For the most part, Hoge accomplishes the feat by keeping his writing in the autobiographical zone. The chiming title track, for instance, is a hymn to undying resilience, written both for Hoge’s durable marriage and for his ever-loyal fanbase, while “Damn Spotlight (Julia’s Song),” the proper album closer, is an emotional lullaby about life on the road and the toll it takes on families. But even when Hoge examines outside characters, as he does on “Daddy Was a Gambling Man,” the album’s centerpiece story song, the result feels timeless in a way that not a lot of modern country music does. The organic, full-bodied arrangement doesn’t hurt, with delicate acoustic guitars, a mournful pedal steel, and a flickeringly nostalgic electric guitar solo all working as callbacks to country music 40, 50, or 60 years in the rearview. But it’s the words that hit the hardest. The song weaves a tale of a man, good at heart but lost to his own compulsive gambling habit, and the woman who stands by his side with love and devotion, even as his destructive habits threaten her happiness, her family, and her entire way of life. When Hoge sings “Mama said love comes with a price/It’s a turn of the cards, it’s a roll of the dice” on the bridge, it’s a remarkably simple moment, but one that is utterly devastating as well. The song wrenchingly shows the rough side of unconditional love, and it’s not difficult to imagine the same notes and lyrics coming from the lips of a country music legend like Hank Williams or George Jones. On Never Give In, Hoge has absolutely reached the level of the all-time greats.

But Never Give In isn’t all sad-sack balladry. The redemptive “Goodbye Ain’t Always Gone” turns the bittersweet emotions of a farewell into a rousing and hopeful road trip song, while the record’s two most raucous rock songs, “Home is Where the Heart Breaks” and “Bad Old Days,” turn old cliche phrases on their heads and use them as the backbone to some of the most lively, potent, and resilient songwriting in Hoge’s catalog. The former is a Springsteenian examination of broken American dreams, while the latter is a fond, tongue-in-cheek glance back iat the bad decisions and unforgettable nights that come from being young, dumb, and broke. The songs may be similar in tempo and structure—both rely on soaring choruses, tightly wound verses, and domineering guitar riffs—but their moods differ entirely. “Home is Where the Heart Breaks” is biting and indignant (“To me he was never more than just a picture on the wall, and for my 16th birthday all he could give me was a call,” Hoge sings about an absentee father) while “Bad Old Days” blends sarcasm with nostalgia (“Women and whiskey and wicked ways, sometimes I long for those bad old days”) for a track that recalls “God Don’t Make Lonely Girls” from the 1996 Wallflowers classic, Bringing Down the Horse. Both are searing live staples in the making.

It’s hard for me to say outright that Never Give In is the greatest album Will Hoge has ever made, since his older records, The Wreckage and Draw the Curtains especially, mean so much to me. But without a doubt, this record is the best one-album snapshot of who Hoge is as an musician. It’s one of those records that catches its artist at the top of his game from all angles, whether the songs are loud or soft, country or rock ‘n’ roll, sad or uplifting, serious or sarcastic, or some all-encompassing blend of everything. At times, Never Give In is a rousing send up of 1970s E Street proportions; elsewhere, it’s a reminder of a time when the country music on the radio was deep and vibrant and full of feeling; and at other times, it’s a glance back at the early and mid-nineties, when bands like the Wallflowers, Counting Crows, and Whiskeytown were still contending for mainstream recognition. In other words, it’s a time capsule record, not just of Hoge’s career—though it is that—abut lso of folk, country, and rock music from the past half a century. Suffice to say, it’s a trip that any music fan should be happy to take, and the fact that a guy as likable as Hoge is the curator of it all just makes the journey that much more rewarding.

Keep on dreamin', even if it breaks your heart...

Next to Butch Walker scoring songwriting credit on major hits and earning the distinction of Producer of the Year from Rolling Stone magazine back in 2005, hearing Will Hoge's "Even if it Breaks Your Heart" on the radio waves is one of the most satisfying occurrences to take place within the mainstream in years - even if it's not Hoge singing on the record. I've gotta say, there have been a few moments this year that have almost given me hope for mainstream popular music. First, Adele's continued domination of the charts showed that the album format still had some gas left in it; next, fun. hit number one on the charts and even now continue to display a surprising amount of longevity with Some Nights; and now, Will Hoge's song, one of my favorite songs from 2009, is making waves on the radio waves, three years down the road from the first time it graced my ears. Of course, it's not his version: the "hit song" status that now lies on "Even if it Breaks Your Heart" is thanks to the Eli Young Band and their version of the tune. It's been bizarre hearing the song issuing from speakers that don't belong to either myself or my older brother, whether I was hearing it on the radio waves or in the midst of a slew country standards playing on my co-worker's iTunes, but I'd call it a good kind of bizarre. Even in decidedly less talented hands than Hoge's, "Even if it Breaks Your Heart" remains as great a song today as it has always been.

I always thought that "Even if it Breaks Your Heart" had crossover potential, from the first time I listened to The Wreckage and fell in love with Will's music, and I suppose I have been proven right there. Still, it makes me wonder: why isn't this guy a huge country music star? Eli Young is clearly a more talented individual than the majority of the stars in pop music today, and I think that, in general, country music, even in its most mainstream forms, is a much less egregious and offensive genre than the majority of what crops up on top-40 radio. For the most part, the singers can still sing, the players can still play, and the records still have a measure of emotional force and artistic integrity to them. That said, Young's take on "Even if it Breaks Your Heart" doesn't add anything new to it: he plays the song straight, which is fine, but the only notable difference is that it sounds more generic, more stereotypically "country," but only in a modern sense. Hoge is very much in the vein of classic country and rock music stars: he's Tom Petty, Hank Williams, and Springsteen rolled into one, with a twinge of Johnny Cash thrown in for good measure. His voice is distinctive and unique, his vocal performances sparked with an emotional honesty that is impossible to doubt, no matter what he's singing about. His songs are, across the board, stellar, flitting between rock, pop, country, folk, and even gospel, and breaking down the barriers between all of them. And more than anything else, he's a force of nature onstage, ranking amongst the greatest performers I've ever seen. If there were any justice, this man would be a living legend.

A cover song is a weird route into fame for any artist. Even if your performance of another artist's song takes it to a new level (basically, if you're Jeff Buckley), it still has an asterisk next to it. That's a bit odd to me because, inevitably, we all start out as little more than a collection of our influences. We take our first steps into music by learning how to sing and play other people's songs, and we channel that experience into our own music, if and when we begin to write it. The Eli Young Band doesn't exactly fit into any of this, since they had one big hit prior to "Even if it Breaks Your Heart," but the idea still remains: cover songs as hits are a tricky beast - especially if much of your audience will probably never even know there's another version of the song in question. And I guess, ultimately, it doesn't really matter, because Will's song is speaking for itself: a lot of people obviously love it, and it could mean big things for him. Maybe he'll take a leaf out of Butch Walker's book and start doing some songwriting for other artists; maybe it will filter out into bigger tour opportunities, more fans, bigger album sales, and a better life for Hoge; maybe he won't always have to drive his band from town to town in a beat up old van, foregoing sleep in order to get to the next venue and play a kick ass rock 'n' roll show. I don't begrudge Eli Young his success with the song, I just wish that the success were Will's to call his own, and I just hope that he's getting the recognition and compensation he deserves for it.

The Tower & The Fool - How Long

The Tower & The Fool - How Long

Run For Cover Records/Earshot Media, 2012

4.5 stars

Every once in awhile, an album comes along, out of nowhere, and just stops you in your tracks. It's a rare but beautiful thing when you can listen to a record for the first time, completely free of all expectations, and have it knock you down. Last year, a pair of records landed in my top ten from artists that I had known nothing about prior to my first listen: the first was Charlie Simpson's Young Pilgrim, a gorgeous folk-pop effort that was right up my alley from the get-go. The second was Mansions' Dig Up the Dead, an emotionally intense set of break-up songs that wormed its way into my consciousness as the year moved on until I couldn't ignore it: I expect that a similar fate will befall How Long, the excellent full-length debut from Rhode Island-based rock band The Tower & The Fool, a break-up album that encompasses some of the best melodies, the most emotional vocals, and the most stunningly heartbreaking lyrics that I've heard all year (or, perhaps, all decade). 

In the realm of musical statements, I find a well-executed break-up album to be among the most fascinating. Undoubtedly, some of the greatest art of all time has been the product of personal disaster. When artists let the world in to see them bleed, put all of themselves and their lives into a musical work, the result is the rawest, most unadulterated portrait of them that we can ever glimpse. Its why so many of my favorite records have this associations: albums like Butch Walker's Letters, or Will Hoge's Draw the Curtains, Fleetwood Mac's Rumours or City And Colour's Sometimes, Bruce Springsteen's Tunnel of Love or Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks. Each of these records, whether or not I consider them the best the artist in question has to offer (which, except for Springsteen and maybe Dylan, I do), has a raw honesty that is truly enrapturing, and each of them include some of the greatest songs I have ever heard. Were it not for Springsteen's protest-album masterpiece Wrecking Ball, which will very likely be my album of the year, I could say that none of those artists ever again reached the dizzying heights of their break-up masterpiece. There's something electric about a break-up album, something real and fleeting that is impossible to re-capture, but difficult to walk away from, and few artists are ever able to achieve that emotional apex more than once. Here's hoping that the guys from The Tower & The Fool don't succumb to that curse, but from the moment frontman Alex Correia references "Tangled Up In Blue," the definitive break-up anthem from Dylan's Blood on the Tracks, on album-highlight "Broken," it's clear that he's not kidding around.
 

The band isn't kidding around with their list of influences either, which reads like a 90s-throwback compilation and includes artists like Counting Crows, Whiskeytown, and The Gin Blossoms. There are shades of those bands' folk and alt-country leanings all over How Long, but Correia's whiskey-drenched vocal tone is a bit rougher around the edges than those groups' respective frontmen, and some finest moments here veer closer to more recent artists like Jimmy Eat World and The Dangerous Summer: emotional lyrics, set to sweeping melodic choruses and devastating verses. It’s a formula that never lets the band down, and there isn't a moment that even comes close to being weak across the record's ten tracks. Anthems of heartbreak, like "Dive Bar" and "Broken," give way to more pensive numbers, such as the title track, "My Heart is Dead in NYC," and "Breach," with Correia delivering a handful of lines in each that hits like a ton of bricks. In "Dive Bar," the album's rousing opener, it's "maybe you fell in love with a feeling and not a girl," while in "How Long," the album's elegiac centerpiece, it's lines like "And at night when I sleep, her ghost crawls in my sheets/I hear her voice calling out my name" that will transport us all back to those moments when we were forced to get over a person we had no interest in moving on without.

A swell of B3-organ keys and a scorching guitar solo are the cornerstones of penultimate cut "Die Alone," which serves as the climactic peak of a heartbreaking record. Desperation cuts through Correia's voice as he belts out the song's chorus ("And I'm praying to God that her love keeps me afloat/'Cause man, I don't wanna die alone") but we feel distinctly like there's no end to his suffering here, and the closer, though it reaches resignation, is one of the album's hardest-hitting moments. Set to the backdrop of a single acoustic guitar, softly finger-picked in a swirl of intimacy, "Who Does She Think She Is?" lands very much in the tradition of great break-up album closers. It's a slow-burn of regret and resignation, where Correia sounds tired and broken, and just like many of his predecessors in this tradition, like he has nothing left to give or to say. "Love is a horrible thing," the album concludes, and though The Tower & The Fool may be inviting a pity party of sorts with this record, that's an important part of the tradition as well.

Ultimately, How Long earns itself the rather dubious honor of being the saddest album of the year (at least so far), and while the constant surge of heartbreak and bitterness that Correia sings about may grow tiring for listeners who aren't going through a similar situation (such as myself), we've all been through a romantic disaster at least once, and these songs express those feelings perfectly. It's the kind of record you can disappear into, an album full of lyrical gems and musical triumphs that build to a sublime catharsis, and the overall impact is breathtaking. Only time will tell whether or not anyone will construct a better ode to a relationship or a more emotionally intense record this year, but for now, The Tower & The Fool is in about the best position any 2012 release could be: in my number two slot, right after Springsteen.

This Highway's Home: Will Hoge Live in Grand Rapids

The Will Hoge Band

Live at the Pepsi Stadium Club - Fifth Third Ballpark

Grand Rapids, MI, 2/09/12

Will Hoge's music has saved my life, on numerous occasions. That might be a bit of an overstatement, but I can't do justice to how much his records, especially the last three, have meant to me over the past couple of years. On my list of all time favorite artists, only Will Hoge and Chad Perrone have come into my life since I started college. The other ones, the ones who have released truly terrific records since 2009, the ones who have big potential to be on that list, still have another album or two to go before I'll feel comfortable giving them that distinction. I think that really speaks to the power, the immediacy, and the strength of Hoge and Perrone's music, both the albums that made me fall in love with them and the back catalogs that turned me into a die hard fan. Both have songs that have completely leveled me at some time over the past three years. Perrone's music served as soundtrack for the best summer of my life, for the first time I fell in love, while Hoge's has helped me through some difficult moments: he was there with The Wreckage in the fall of 2009, supplying the musical backdrop to my first semester in college and for the transition therein; his latest, Number Seven, simultaneously drove me to tears and inspired me on the night last fall when I first started to consider pursuing a different major; and Draw the Curtains has always been my favorite and has been a record I've returned to for answers, for comfort, and for inspiration time and time again over the years. So after all that, it was a dream come true finally getting a chance to see Hoge play a live show. To put it simply, I wasn't disappointed.

Hoge, who is currently touring in support of last fall's Number Seven, made a stop in Grand Rapids two Thursdays ago, playing in a reception venue off of the Fifth Third Ballpark (which took the title of "weirdest place I've ever seen a show" pretty easily). The opener for the show (who I gathered was not actually on tour with Hoge and his band, but a Grand Rapids native who was offered the slot separately), was the acoustic duo of Flashing Blue Lights. Their set was intimate and laid back, establishing a nice coffee-house atmosphere with their pleasant originals and recognizable covers. After the band had played a Noel Gallagher song ("If I Had a Gun") and a Ryan Adams one ("Two"), my brother and I started taking bets as to what would be covered next: I guessed Counting Crows. I wasn't too far off, as the band bid farewell with a nice rendition of the Foo Fighters' "Next Year."

Hoge and his band are unique in the artists I've seen in that they have no road crew. The band was out onstage, setting up their gear, doing sound check and tuning their instruments, and once they were ready, they just walked out and rocketed into the first song of their set: "Fools Gonna Fly," also the opener off Number Seven and one of my favorite songs on that record. The song's singalong chorus proved to be the perfect orientation to Hoge's live sound. The band was clearly on point from the get go, and lead guitarist Adam Ollendorff immediately distinguished himself as one of the best guitarists I've seen with any band, a title he'd defend on numerous occasions throughout the night. "Secondhand Heart" reminded me why I need to give Blackbird on a Lonely Wire, Hoge's second (or third? I'm really not sure of this) record, more credit, and "Sex, Lies, & Money," a big, dumb, blues-rock song with shout-along lyrics, was a no-brainer for a live set, even if it is probably the weakest song off of Hoge's masterpiece, Draw the Curtains. As for "Too Old to Die Young," which capped the near-perfect four song introduction, the song cemented itself as an anthem as I sang along with it at the top of my lungs, and it was easily one of the Number Seven cuts that thrived the most in its live setting.

The band broke for a few moments, allowing them to tune their instruments, grab a drink of water, and banter with the audience a bit. Hoge explained to us that the name of the town on the setlist tonight was "Cold Ass, Michigan," and added that his band would be compiling a database of setlists from this tour so that when they come back, they won't play all the same songs. It's an interesting idea that I wish more acts would undertake, though to be honest, if I've seen Butch Walker seven times and have never minded seeing songs multiple times, I doubt I ever will. "I'm actually here for a baseball tryout," Hoge laughed, riffing for a moment on the curious venue we'd all found ourselves in. He went on, explaining the initial confusion he'd encountered in regard to the White Caps, the team who plays at the Fifth Third Ballpark. "At first I thought your team was called the White Chicks," he said. "That would have been way cooler. It would have been awesome to say I was the pitcher for the White Chicks." As laughter washed over the audience, Hoge walked around to the back of the stage and sat down at his piano, launching into a raw and visceral take on "When I Can Afford to Lose," the opening track from Curtains. It's a song I've always liked, but it soared even higher in this environment, distancing itself from the production values of the studio and allowing Hoge's exquisitely moving vocal to radiate through the venue.

After an extensive anecdote about a show he played recently at an all girls catholic school and his penchant for offending nuns, Hoge played through a pair of sparse acoustic numbers: the first was "Trying to be a Man," a tragic storyteller song from his latest album, the second "The Wreckage," a meditative break up tune that also probably had some connection to the near-fatal motorcycle accident Hoge suffered prior to the recording of the album the song lends its name to. The band added musical flourishes to both pieces, but for the most part, both achieved the "pin drop" dynamic amongst the audience, and only exemplified Hoge's magnetic and entrancing ability as a performer. The silence was not prolonged, however, as the band rocketed into "Ms. Williams," one of two songs tonight from the Carousel album, and one of the few songs of the night that I felt less familiar with. The opening riff to "Highway Wings" sounded like a summer anthem waiting to happen, and the band built around that euphoric opening to create one of the absolute highlights of the night. "Highway Wings" is a song I've always loved, but I've also always felt that the studio version on The Wreckage doesn't nearly do it justice, that the production doesn't make it sound as anthemic as it should. However, hearing it live only doubled my adoration for it, and I hope someday, we'll see a live album with the more recent stuff on it, that song included.

Speaking of songs that found new life in their live formats, "Just Like Me," a Tom Petty-ish rocker, became even more scorching here as Hoge channeled all of his anger and bitterness into the lyrics and left them dripping off the stage. "Silver Chain," a darkly atmospheric rocker from Seven reached heights I never thought possible, with Ollendorff delivering an extended guitar solo that was nothing short of mindblowing, and "Pocket Full of Change," a commentary on the music industry that served as the opener for Hoge's 2006 album, The Man Who Killed Love (another one I think I'm guilty of underrating), tore the stage apart with raucous energy and rock 'n' roll charisma. Hoge took center stage with an acoustic again for "Goodnight/Goodbye," a song from The Wreckage that was instrumental in making me love his music in the first place. It's a heartbreaking song that tells the tale of a couple who have fallen out of love with each other, but aren't willing to face that truth. While the original version is enhanced with elegiac piano lines and a gorgeous female back-up vocal, the song cut right to the core of me tonight, stripped down to its barest essentials, and as Hoge's voice broke on the bridge, I couldn't think of many songs that are sadder.

"This Highway's Home" has long been one of my favorite Hoge songs, and the Draw the Curtains closer was more than flawless tonight. It's probably one of Hoge's most definitively country songs, name-dropping Hank Williams in the chorus as a stunning pedal steel guitar floats through the entire thing (delivered perfectly by Ollendorff). As I watched Hoge and his band play the song live, I gained a new appreciation for it, because really, this song is their theme song: these guys are working musicians, no major label behind them, no road crew to set up their shows, and not even an opening act to keep them company on the road. Hoge drives the band from show to show in a beat up old van, and none of them probably ever get a good night's sleep. And yet, despite all of this, here they stood before me onstage, giving every bit of themselves to these songs and to their audience. So when Hoge sang that last chorus, it really hit hard:

"With a suitcase full of empty dreams

A guitar with broken strings

A busted heart that longs to sing the blues

A mind that always leads me wrong

A head full of Hank Williams songs

I'm sorry honey, but this highway's home."

It's like Hoge and his band have no choice but to give themselves over completely to the music, because they can't imagine doing anything else, because nothing else would ever feel right, and as someone who has certainly felt that way in moments of his life, that idea really resonated with me. It was the night's key moment, but there were still a few more to go: Hoge appropriately segued into a snippet of the Hank Williams classic "I'm So Lonely I Could Cry" before exploding into "Goddam California," another one of the highlights of Number Seven and of the night. The song's bridge is one of the best parts of any song Hoge has written, and hearing him sing it live only made that more evident. "No Man's Land" didn't come across quite as strongly, but the clever tongue in cheek lyrics made it a welcome enough inclusion. And the a guy standing a row or two behind my brother and I asked the band to play "Better off Now That Your Gone" for his "bitch ass ex-wife," and Hoge happily obliged, dedicating the kiss-off anthem from Blackbird on a Lonely Wire as such.

In the past year, Hoge has been invited to play at the Grand Ole Opry on multiple occasions, and he introduced his final song of the night by explaining that the band had been trying to get back to the Opry's roots, which were in music that was performed entirely acoustically. The "house lights" (if you can call them that in this venue) went up and the band unplugged their instruments, jumped down from the stage, and walked to the center of the room. The song of choice was "Washed by the Water," yet another Draw the Curtains classic, and one that Hoge wrote for the people of New Orleans following the devastation of Hurricane Katrina (think Springsteen). The song has always been a favorite of mine, but seeing him perform it in a format that almost no live acts ever attempt made it completely transcendent. Whether it was the tweaked chorus harmonies (which I'm almost certain were a clever nod at "The Weight," a classic tune by The Band), or the way Hoge closed his eyes as he played, even as he was surrounded by dozens of fans and listeners, it was a breathtaking moment, and while the lack of a traditional encore was slightly disappointing, I could think of no better way for the band to cap off such a stellar show.

I've always felt that Hoge was a musician from a different era: he's a troubadour and a storyteller in the truest sense of the words, and tonight, he reminded me of many of the great songwriters that came before him. On Draw the Curtains, Hoge broke down the barriers between himself and his audience, baring his soul and delivering something that was so relentlessly honest and so palpably visceral that it struck a chord with me right from the get go: he did the same thing onstage at this show, and even after I'd waited two years just dying to see him live, he still exceeded my expectations. It's a shame Hoge isn't more popular than he is, because I can't think of many artists of this era with more great albums, more perfect songs, or with more of a tendency to leave everything they have on the table, whether it's on an album or as part of a live show. But the fact that this show was probably the smallest I've ever attended, in terms of audience size, that information only served to prove two key points: one, that Hoge and his give their all during every performance, no matter the circumstance, and two, that they're the single best kept secret in music today, and I'm just thrilled to be in on it.

Short Takes/Albums Revisited: Ryan Bingham - Mescalito

Ryan Bingham - Mescalito

Lost Highway Records, 2007

 

The past few years, spurred on by my interest in the music of Ryan Adams and Will Hoge and by the increasing level of influence the genre seems to have on Butch Walker's recent music, have seen me really getting into alt-country. Indeed, rootsy-rock and folk music dominated my best-of list this year, and the aforementioned artists continue to be some of my favorites making music today. Ryan Bingham fits right in with Hoge, especially. He had a break-out year in 2010, when he won the Best Original Song Oscar for "The Weary Kind," a fantastic tune he contributed to the soundtrack of the Jeff Bridges Best Actor vehicle Crazy Heart. That song pretty much gave the film it's heartbeat, and I made sure to check out Bingham immediately after seeing the film.

His 2010 full length, entitled Junky Star and made with a group of musicians he called the Dead Horses, actually closed out with "The Weary Kind" as a bonus track. It was a solid set of songs that made it into my honorable mentions and just missed my top 20 or so last year. Similarly, Roadhouse Sun, his more rock-oriented sophomore record from the year before, was something I liked but never loved. The first one I listened to, though, was his solo debut from 2007, called Mescalito, and revisiting the album yesterday (during the lengthy process of wrapping Christmas presents), reminded me of what a terrific record it was, and what a great songwriter this guy can be. Bingham has one of the most distinctive voices out there, a whiskey-drenched growl that lands somewhere between Will Hoge and Tom Waits, and on this record, he uses it to perfect effect. You can hear the nuances and subtleties of the stories he tells in that voice, and while it's not technically an amazing instrument, it's so distinctive and so perfectly suited to these songs that I can't imagine anyone else singing them.

The two subsequent records saw a more fleshed out, full-band approach to Bingham's sound, but he has some truly terrific moments here, as a lone-troubadour with his acoustic guitar, a harmonica, and a notebook full of songs and stories. There are still plenty of full-band traces though, like on the fantastic, absorbing opener, "Southside of Heaven," where percussion and bass keep the song driving, and electric and steel guitar flourishes (and even a bit of mandolin and banjo) turn it into a five-star opener. "Bread and Water" gives Bingham and co. the chance for a honky-tonk breakdown, and "Hard Times" is a more rock-driven number that wouldn't have been out of place on this record's follow up. Meanwhile, the band is mostly dismissed to let Bingham do his thing on songs like "Don't Wait For Me," "Ever Wonder Why" and "Sunrise," which opens with an instantly nostalgic duet between an acoustic guitar and a fiddle. But Bingham saves the best for last in the form of the gorgeous "For What It's Worth," a summer-night campfire song if there ever was one, where Bingham pushes his voice to the limit. It's a song so good that it's often led me to overlook much of the record that preceeds it, which is shame, because there are a lot of terrific things going on here. Perhaps it's time to revisit the rest of Bingham's catalog as well.

A Year in Review: The Best Music of 2011

It has been one hell of a year, in all ways, but especially musically. The unbelievable slate of releases contained work from many of my top artists, follow-ups to a few stellar debut records that could help earn the artists in question a place on that list, and plenty of brand new discoveries. That slate of releases combined into a perfect storm of albums and songs that made this my favorite music year in recent memory. It seemed like every morning when I signed onto my computer, there was a new album waiting to be heard, or an old one that I was dying to revisit. This list represents the twenty-five records that I lived, loved and listened to the most throughout the past year, but those qualifications didn't make the ordering or the inevitable cuts I had to made any easier. The top ten especially was a battle for me, as there were 11 records I desperately wanted to include but only ten slots to do so. The casualty is no less fantastic than any of the records that come before it, though, and in my eyes, they're all winners. The order is, of course, rather arbitrary: it has changed dozens of times since I started compiling this list a solid month ago, and I'm sure it will continue to do so as these records go on providing the soundtrack to my life in the coming months and years. The top five is pretty set, but beyond that, the order is a mere formality to catalog the musical moments that meant the most to me this year.

1. The Dangerous Summer – War Paint

 

Not since 2004’s one-two punch of personal soundtrack moments (Butch Walker’s Letters and Jimmy Eat World’s Futures) has a new album so thoroughly defined my life or intertwined itself so thoroughly in my day to day experiences. That’s high praise, as those two albums both sit now (and probably forevermore) in my all time top 3, but after spending this past summer with this album almost literally in constant rotation, I don’t think it’s any stretch to say that this thing has cracked my top ten, if not my top five. Every single moment of this album, every line of every song, every vocal melody, every massive wall of guitar chords, engraved themselves into countless moments from this summer that I will never forget and, in doing so, have become a part of who I am. There can be no higher praise for a set of songs than that, and this album, from the first chord to the very last note, is something I will treasure for the rest of my life. It’s been an incredible year for music, but really, this one is a no-brainer. (Full review here).

Key tracks: “No One’s Gonna Need You More,” “Siren,” “Waves,” everything else....

2. Butch Walker – The Spade

 

For those who haven’t read his book (Drinking With Strangers, which is a terrific read), Butch Walker has had quite the career in the music business, full of ups and downs, record deals gone bad, stolen songs, big hits, botched tours and everything in between. But nowadays, Walker has settled into one of the most consistently great solo careers anyone has had in ages, releasing great album after great album, always morphing his sound, and his latest continues that trend. Ever since the wildfire that took his home and everything he owned in 2007, Walker has seemed like a man reborn, a different artist than he was in the Letters or Lets-Go-Out-Tonites! days. The rise-from-the-ashes folk-rock glory of Sycamore Meadows gave way to the experimental alt-country and Beatles pop of I Liked it Better When You Had No Heart. The Spade is, again, a different beast entirely: a spontaneous, raucous rock n’ roll record that Walker and his Black Widows recorded in less than a week. The result is the most fun record of the year, one that shaped one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen, one that has provided me with plenty of sing or shout-along moments in the car, and one which, surprisingly, hit me just at the right time. At first, I thought The Spade was a perfect summer record that dropped at the wrong time, but looking back, I’m not sure I would have it any other way. The Spade released on the day I returned to school for the fall, and hearing the album’s dusky alt-country ballad (“Closest Thing to You I’m Gonna Find”), the gorgeous chorus of goodbyes on “Day Drunk,” or a grand send-up to a perfect summer (“Summer of ’89”), as I drove away from my hometown and yet another glorious season felt strangely fitting. Then again, Butch’s music has always come to my aid, even when I least expect it to, and this record is no different. It’s something that has caused me to reevaluate this record since its release as something I didn’t think I would ever call it: one of his best. (Full review here).

Key tracks: “Summer of ’89,” “Day Drunk,” The last four tracks...

3.  Damnwells – No One Listen to the Band Anymore

 

Two and a half years ago, the Damnwells offered their fourth record, the stellar acoustic-based folk of One Last Century, for free download on their site. This record came into my life at the beginning of the summer, and right from the first listen, I was hooked. No One Listens to the Band Anymore takes the folk of One Last Century and adds a little bit of rock and roll and a little bit of pop, leading to the band's best record to date and one of the best sets of songs I heard this year. The album somehow manages to contain what might be the most gorgeously perfect pop song of the year (“Last Day of the New Age”), a pair of instantly nostalgic acoustic ballads (“The Monster” and “The Same Way”), and the glorious summer night classic rock of “Werewolves,” a beautiful, mystifying piece of balladry that came alive for me on late night drives at the end of the hottest days of the year. Those are the standouts, but in between is plenty of roots-rock goodness that amounts to one of the best albums of the year; there’s not a less than great song in the set.

Key tracks: “Werewolves,” “Last Day of the New Age,” “The Same Way,” “The Monster”

4. Bon Iver – Bon Iver, Bon Iver

 

The story of Bon Iver’s first album has been recited so many times, in so many different reviews, that it’s become the stuff of myth, a story so open to hyperbolic retellings that it’s hard to know what actually happened. The story goes that Justin Vernon disappeared into the Wisconsin woods to mend his broken heart, lived in a log cabin by himself, and came back with For Emma, Forever Ago. Four years later, a bunch of Kanye West guest features and a few eclectic (read: weird) side projects later, and Bon Iver is back. His latest is a significantly more fleshed out effort, more suited for late summer nights than the winter afternoons and evenings that Emma soundtracked perfectly (as evidenced from the muggy opening of the record on the near-perfect “Perth”). This album is all about atmosphere: Vernon seems to fill every corner of each arrangement, and the flow is hypnotic, sometimes feeling like its all one song, but never coming across as redundant or dull. The gorgeous acoustics of “Holocene” fly the closest to the sound that defined Emma, and the ethereal piano loops on "Wash." make that song a highlight, but the finest hour is the keyboard and synth heavy closer Beth/Rest, an 80’s inspired piece of power balladry that owes a lot to the likes of Peter Gabriel and Bonnie Raitt. For some, it will sound unspeakably cheesy, but for me, on late summer night drives, it sounded immaculate. When the guitar solo comes in during the final minutes of the record, it almost feels like Vernon has transported you to another world.

Key tracks: “Perth,” “Holocene,” “Beth/Rest”

5. Jack’s Mannequin – People & Things

Much like Butch Walker, Andrew McMahon, the mastermind behind piano-rock groups Jack’s Mannequin and Something Corporate, has never been the type to make the same record twice. Though his work with both of his bands has followed an eerily similar arc, where the first and second Jack’s records seem to be perfect companion pieces to the same respective SoCo albums, in mood, theme and flow, each album has arrived with its own unique approach to McMahon's sound. He never made it to record number 3 with Something Corporate though, and from the sound of this album, won’t make it to record number 4 with Jack’s either. People & Things, for all of it’s pop and folk music tribute-paying, is most notable for how strikingly final it feels. Andrew’s perfect pop songs are as good as ever (and there are plenty on display here: “Racing Thoughts,” “Television,” “Amelia Jean,” “Hostage”…the list goes on and on), but it’s in the album’s final two cuts (and on repeat listens) that the album becomes a revelation. The slow acoustic based lullaby of “Restless Dream” is different from anything Andrew has ever done before, and “Casting Lines” is a rousing finale, one about endings and homecomings that hits incredibly close to home, no matter where life has taken you. For Andrew, it feels like the conclusion and realization of a story that began with him taking off to California for a whirlwind summer on Everything in Transit, and if he is to be believed, that’s how he intended it to be. If this is the last Jack’s album though, then it’s a damn fine way to go out. It’s not Andrew’s best or his most immediate, but it’s an album full of meaning and life, and even if it will never displace Transit as a favorite album of mine, it’s one I can see myself returning to in search of answers for years to come. (Full review here).

Key tracks: "Television," "Amelia Jean," "Hostage," "Casting Lines"

 6. The Horrible Crowes - Elsie

 

I’ve never quite bought into the endless stream of Springsteen comparisons thrown towards Brian Fallon, the frontman for punk-rock outfit the Gaslight Anthem (whose last album, American Slang, rounded out my top five last year). On this album though, a side project made with Gaslight guitar tech Ian Perkins, I’ve finally begun to understand what that comparison is all about. My brother asked me if I thought this record was Brian Fallon’s Nebraska, and that’s certainly a fitting comparison, as this album’s darker, more stripped down material echoes the contrast between Springsteen’s early records and the huge departure Nebraska was. And really, Fallon might be this era’s Boss (though The Killers, Will Hoge and The Hold Steady have all made records that sound more definitively Springsteen-ian than any of Fallon’s), but it’s more about the charisma he exudes and about the lyrical content of his songs than it is about that patent E-Street sound. He certainly sounds like a rock star here, whether the songs could have been on Gaslight records (“Behold the Hurricane,” “Go Tell Everybody”) or not (the glorious closing trio or the evocative "Cherry Blossoms"). I still think Fallon has got his masterpiece(s) ahead of him, and the Gaslight album on it’s way for next year might be prime time for him to make good on that promise, but for now, I’m tempted to call this his crowning achievement.

Key tracks: “Crush,” “Black Betty & the Moon,” “Blood Loss”

7. Charlie Simpson – Young Pilgrim

Since it made it’s way onto my computer in mid August, Young Pilgrim has wandered around my list quite a bit, but a recent revisiting has reminded me how utterly splendid it is. This album didn’t get an official release in America, which is a shame, because it’s one of the most gorgeous singer/songwriter records I’ve heard in a long time. I found so much I could relate to in these songs on nights in the late summer, and I continue to find more every time I listen. From the glorious pop/rock hooks that pervade most of it’s first half, to the quieter, folkier and less immediate (but no less terrific) second half, Simpson has created a truly beautiful set of songs. “I get dressed up in my autumn clothes and step outside to look at the leaves/I cannot believe a whole year has gone/I open my arms to embrace you/It’s time to go right back to the start,” he sings on “Thorns.” As the days got shorter and the summer began to fade away, that song, that verse especially, was one I revisited time and time again, like I was trying to hold onto the feeling of the season, even as it slipped away from me. That the record has continued to grow on me through the seasons that have followed is a testament to it’s greatness.

Key tracks: "Down, Down, Down," "Thorns," "Riverbanks"

8. Mat Kearney – Young Love

Kearney’s previous two records are both favorites of mine for different reasons: City of Black and White became the soundtrack to my summer in 2009, with it’s soaring hooks and gorgeous singer/songwriter mentality, while Nothing Left to Lose was a record I revisited over and over again for the emotional, genre-blending rap verses Kearney employed on many of the record’s best songs. Young Love tries to blend the two and, while it comes out as the weakest of the three, it’s still a great record and one that came to be extremely important to me during the summer. Kearney has said he sought to write from a more naïve, innocent point of view on this record, and the resulting set of songs is as thrilling and euphoric as its title suggests. The songs here are among the poppiest stuff Kearney has written, with a few faux-rap sections thrown in for the old fans and a lot of beat-heavy production to convert a new audience (the production is among the best of the year). The album thrives on it’s unique pop sound, and songs like “Ships in the Night” and “Sooner or Later” perfectly transition Kearney’s old sound to this new template. That said, though most of the album is loud, fun and catchy, the few sparse acoustic moments are among the most effective on the album, like the flowing “Learning to Love Again,” a callback to the ballads from the last two records, or “Rochester,” a homage to Nebraska-era Springsteen that sounds a bit too similar to one of that album's songs for comfort. The album’s biggest flaw is relegating it’s natural closer, the gorgeous “Seventeen,” to bonus track status. Without it, the album feels incomplete, but with it, it’s one of my favorite records of the year. (Full review here).

Key tracks: "Ships in the Night," "Sooner or Later," "Learning to Love Again," "Seventeen"

9. Matt Nathanson – Modern Love

At no point this year have I been able to mention Kearney’s record without also mentioning Nathanson’s (or vice versa), and I’m not about to start now. Despite the ironic similarity in the album’s titles (and the artist’s names), Nathanson’s record develops its own theme. Where Kearney explored the innocence of first love, Nathanson’s examines love in a world that has lost its innocence, and the two sit together as perfect companions for one another: two terrific summer pop albums that had similar effects on me, and two records that I simply could not bring myself to separate on this list. Nathanson plays pretty close to the sound that made his last album (2007s Some Mad Hope) one of my favorites of that year. The ballads don’t hit quite as hard this time around, but Nathanson has clearly gained some prowess elsewhere, as he delivers some of the finest hooks I’ve heard anywhere this year. The first four tracks are all big pop songs, culminating with “Room at the End of the World,” the album’s best song, and one that should have been a hit on every radio station in the country this summer. 

Key tracks: "Room At the End of the World," "Drop to Hold You," "Run"

10. Mansions – Dig Up the Dead

The brainchild of singer/songwriter Christopher Browder, Dig Up The Dead is the most heartbreaking album I heard all year: a staggeringly desolate set of songs full of loneliness and pain. From the striking opening of the title track, to the grungy guitar distortion that cuts across the hopeless resignation of “Call Me When It’s Over,” all the way to the shattering conclusion of “Yer Voice,” which takes the album out in truly climactic fashion, there hasn’t been a more atmospheric break up album in ages. “I don’t want your life, where everything’s easy,” Browder sings on “Yer Voice.” “That Midas touch will unwind, that gold has no meaning.” It’s the perfect ending to the heartbreak, a resignation that things have to change, even though it’s so hard to let go. You can hear every ounce of pain and regret in Browder’s voice, and that’s what makes this album special.

Key  tracks: “Call Me When It’s Over,” “Seven Years,” “Yer Voice”

11. Will Hoge - Number Seven

 

Will Hoge’s records sound like they come out of a different era, and this one is no different. His mix of classic rock and alt-country recalls rock and roll and country music legends, from Springsteen to to Petty to Muddy Waters to Hank Williams, and his latest record finds him in familiar but welcome territory. From storytelling acoustics ("American Dream," "Trying to Be a Man," "The Illegal Line") to gospel infused sermons (the fiery album closer, “When I Get My Wings”) to Hoge’s trademark rock n’ roll (the killer opening trio), there’s nothing Hoge doesn’t do well here, and he’s pretty much at the top of the list for must-see live artists at this point for that reason. Number Seven, though it dips a bit in quality when it reaches its mid-section (how could it not, with five straight classics as an opening?), but regains all of it’s power on its final numbers, and ends up being one of the most satisfying and altogether best albums of the year. Not as strong as Hoge’s career best (Draw the Curtains), but from the first moment his voice entered on the first track, I felt like I was listening to an old friend, and that’s always a good sign.

Key tracks: “Fool’s Gonna Fly,” “Goddam California,” “When I Get My Wings”

12. Yellowcard - When You're Through Thinking, Say Yes

 

For how much I played this record last spring and for how much I loved it, it actually makes me a little bit sad to place it this far back on the list, but I honestly can’t listen to it in the same way anymore. It definitely found me at the right time in my life: I was stuck in a seemingly perpetual winter, nearing the end of the worst semester of my life and wanting nothing more than to escape all of this bullshit and get back to the carefree glory of warm summer nights, of being home and in love with my girlfriend and doing shows three times a week for my job. This record came along and seemed to bring a piece of summer with it. Even though it seemed so out of reach in the April snows, that feeling I was looking for came pouring out of songs like “With You Around” and “Soundtrack” in spades, and when I was finally done with school, I ran to my car and got the hell out of that town as quickly as I could, with this record providing soundtrack for my freedom and for a great summer to come. When I hear songs like “The Sound of You and Me,” I hear the end of a year that I’m not at all eager to go back to, and as a result, this record hasn’t gotten much play since that drive, but it’s still Yellowcard’s best set of songs yet, and one of the most well executed pop-rock albums of the year. Perhaps after I’ve put a little more distance between myself and that semester, I’ll be able to look back a little more fondly on this record.

Key tracks: “The Sound of You and Me,” “With You Around,” “Be the Young” 

13. Florence + the Machine - Ceremonials

 

U2's most recent openers made a name for themselves last year with the song "Dog Days Are Over," a rousing pop single that caught my ear immediately. Their first album, Lungs, never quite had the same magnetism for me as that particular single, but the follow-up is a realization of everything Florence Welch's voice was ever meant to do. The darkness closes in quickly and heavily on this record, bringing pounding tribal drums, far-off chants and baroque instrumentation with it, and the resulting set of songs is both atmospheric and deeply emotional. Most of that is owed to Welch's rocker charisma and her willingness to give herself entirely to every song she sings in a way that even the album's weak moments resonate. Whether she's embracing the darkness ("Never Let Me Go," "No Light, No Light") or reaching for the clouds and coming up with one of the year's finest pop songs ("All This and Heaven Too"), the resulting record is one that I've come back to over and over again, even if it's one I never imagined loving half as much. (Full review here).

 Key tracks: "Shake it Out," "Never Let Me Go," "All This and Heaven Too"

14. Switchfoot - Vice Verses

Switchfoot has been one of my favorite bands since The Beautiful Letdown played a big part in making me fall in love with music, and this record is just another solid release from them. The grunge inspired rock n' roll that dominates many of the album's cuts ("Afterlife," "The Original," "Dark Horses") eventually gives way to the kind of earnest balladry the band has made their name on, like on the gorgeous "Souvenirs" or the acoustic based title track, which recalls the music lead singer Jonathan Foreman was writing for his Seasonal EP project. They save the best for last in the form of "Where I Belong," a huge, climactic anthem that recalls U2 and Springsteen, and sits as one of my favorite songs of the year. With this record, Switchfoot continue their streak of solid releases that are just shy of great, but there are a handful of perfect songs in this collection, and just like with the two records that preceeded it, those will keep me coming back, again and again. (Full review here).

Key tracks: "Where I Belong," "Souvenirs," "The Original

15. Adele - 21

The last time the year’s top selling record made my personal best of list…well, that’s never actually happened, but I’d have to go all the way back to 1987 and Born in the U.S.A. to find one of my favorite records on that list. That just goes to show that sometimes, out of the wreckage that pop music has become, a true artist can emerge. Adele is certainly a shining example of this, a true talent, both as a singer and a songwriter, and this album could very well go down as her magnum opus. It’s a break-up record, in the tradition of Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks, Springsteen’s Tunnel of Love or Will Hoge’s Draw the Curtains, and its songs run the range from soulful rave-ups (massive single “Rolling in the Deep”) jazzed-out pop (“Rumor Has It”), or gospel catharsis (“Take It All” or “One And Only”, whose building bridge section is one of the year’s best musical moments). The dark pop of “Set Fire to the Rain,” is especially striking, but the best moment here is the final one, the stripped down piano ballad that is “Someone Like You.” It’s as simple as pop songs get, just Adele’s voice over a piano line of arpeggiated triads, but the lyrics and how Adele delivers them make it one of the best songs of the year: a stunning rumination on heartbreak that reminded me of the very best that pop music can achieve. And Adele’s vocal? It’s a revelation.

Key tracks: “Rolling In The Deep,” “Set Fire To The Rain,” “Someone Like You”

16. The Civil Wars - Barton Hollow

 

The Civil Wars at once recall the best moments of both Damien Rice and the Swell Season (and the film Once, whose soundtrack has to be among my favorite albums). Their mix of folk and alt-country sits perfectly on each of this album’s 12 tracks, and creates an evocative, entrancing listen that sounds like it came out of a different era. The best moments come when dual singers John Paul White and Joy Williams let their vocal performances carry the arrangements, like on the gorgeous swell of “Poison & Wine,” a remarkably simple song that is elevated to an emotional tour de force by their voices, or on the heartbreaking “Falling,” a rumination on a break-up where Williams has her definitive moment. I’d listen to either of these artists’ solo efforts, but together, they become the kind of musical force that was clearly meant to be; it’s not hard to see why these songs have become TV and movie soundtrack gold.

Key tracks: “Poison & Wine,” “Falling,” “To Whom It May Concern”

17. Ryan Adams - Ashes & Fire

One of the industry's most prolific musical chameleons, Adams' music has ranged from alt-country to rock and roll to folk to metal (true story), but has recently fallen a bit silent. His last full length of new material, 2008's Cardinology, was a decent if somewhat underwhelming collection that epitomized every problem I'd ever had with his work with the Cardinals. On his first solo album since 2007's Easy Tiger, Adams rediscovers the magic he's been missing. The set is sparse, simple and relatively quick, but recalls great moments from every stage of Adams' career, from the alt-country of Whiskeytown to the folkiest moments of the his work with the Cardinals, and the result is probably my favorite front-to-back record he's made since Gold. Ashes & Fire is made up of the kind of gorgeous folk tunes Adams has always excelled at, from the 90s inspired folk rock of "Dirty Rain" (think Counting Crows or the Wallflowers at their best) to the piano led gospel-tinged finale of "I Love You But I Don't Know What to Say." In between, Adams doesn't use much but his own acoustic guitar, but every time there's a piano lick, an organ flourish or a steel guitar moan, it feels like I've been transported back to the music of my childhood.

 Key tracks: "Dirty Rain," "Come Home," "I Love You But I Don't Know What to Say"

18. Foo Fighters - Wasting Light

When Nirvana's Nevermind celebrated its 20th birthday this year, Dave Grohl was immediately dragged back under the shadow of a record he's been trying to escape ever since that band imploded. He's done well finding a second career as part of the Foo Fighters, who have evolved from the one-man-band project of their first record into one of the most successful and most respected outfits in modern rock music. The band has switched the sound around with each record, going as far as to close their last record with a piano ballad and populate other parts of it with a folk or heavily classic rock influenced sound. Here though, they're back to their roots: Grohl and co. called up Butch Vig, who produced that legendary Nirvana album so many years ago and made a record in their garage. The result is their most consistent work in over a decade. The hooks on Wasting Light pile high and rock hard right from the get go, recalling that 90s sound without ever taking a step back from the evolution they've gone through since. That's evident on some of the album's darker moments, like the Zeppelin-flavored "I Should Have Known," or the rousing "Miss the Misery," from which the album takes its title. But right from my first listen, the album went from good to great when that epic guitar riff heralded the arrival of "Walk," the album's closer and its shining moment. "Walk" builds into the kind of anthemic rock and roll this band has made their name on, like "Everlong" or "Learn to Fly" or "Best of You," and as a result it feels both nostalgic and remarkably fresh. That the guitar riff pretty much rang in my summer just earns it bonus points; even more bonus points for Grohl's cameo in The Muppets.

Key tracks: "Walk," "Dear Rosemary," "I Should Have Known"

19. Iron & Wine - Kiss Each Other Clean

Sam Beam has made a career out of writing the kind of gorgeous acoustic lullabies that so many artists try and fail to pull off, and his profound lyrics and soothing voice have made songs like “The Trapeze Swinger,” “Fever Dream,” and “Flightless Bird, American Mouth” some of my favorite songs ever. He went a different direction on his last record (2007’s The Shepherd’s Dog), enlisting a full band and inspiring mixed reactions, from fans saying he sold out to many publications calling it his best and most fully realized effort yet. On his latest, Beam continues in that direction, and the results are mixed. Of course, the ballads are typically good: lead single and opening track, “Walking Far From Home, while the gorgeous “Godless Brother in Love” established itself early as my favorite song of the year and will probably still claim the title, all these months later. The full band material runs more of a range, but when it’s good, it’s great, like on the funky “Big Burned Hand,” or the gloriously strange closer “Your Fake Name is Good Enough for Me.”

Key tracks: “Godless Brother in Love,” “Walking Far From Home,” “Big Burned Hand”

20. Dawes - Nothing is Wrong

Yet another great album of roots rock and folk music, Dawes' second album was one of my favorite new discoveries of the summer. Gorgeous guitar solos, vocal melodies and fantastic lyrics are the cornerstones of these songs, and much like Will Hoge's records, they feel like they come to us from a different time. Comparisons to Tom Petty, Jackson Browne and The Eagles are all justified, and that Southern California rock and roll sound permeates every single song on the disc, from the wake-up call on "Time Spent in Los Angeles" to a pair of sweetly mournful ballads ("Moon on the Water" and "Million Dollar Bill"), and a titanic guitar showcase on "My Way Back Home." The lyrics remain strong throughout, but they hit their peak on the album's finale, the piano based "A Little Bit of Everything," which paints numerous portraits of men down on their luck, but finds meaning in them and manages to do so without coming across as heavy handed or cheesy. "It's not some message written in the dark, or some truth that no one's seen," frontman Taylor Goldsmith sings in the album's final moments. "It's a little bit of everything."

Key tracks: "Time Spent in Los Angeles," "Million Dollar Bill," "A Little Bit of Everything"

21. The Decemberists - The King is Dead

It feels a bit strange for me to consider this record alongside others from 2011, as it came into my life almost exactly a year ago, serving as soundtrack for the first leg of my drive home for Christmas break. That was a leak though, and since the release date fell in January, this record is still fully eligible to be here. What a great record it is, too. I've never listened to the Decemberists much, but after this record (and an equally good EP, also from this year), I hope to change that. The King is Dead is a straightforward 70s/80s inspired folk record, drawing influence from the likes of R.E.M. (whose guitarist, Peter Buck, even makes a few appearances), Springsteen, Richard and Linda Thompson and a little bit of Dylan thrown in for good measure. The resulting set of songs ranges from rousing (opener "Don't Carry It All") to gorgeous ("June Hymn," "Dear Avery") and demands to be heard, especially with the season that's just around the corner.

Key tracks: "Don't Carry it All," "Dear Avery," "This is Why We Fight"

22. Augustana - Self-Titled

Augustana made one of my favorite records back in 2008 with Can't Love, Can't Hurt, and even though their latest doesn't come close to that one, it's still one of the best pop-rock records I heard all year. Some members of the band went their separate ways shortly after the album dropped (though lead singer Dan Layus and the other remaining members have decided to keep the Augustana moniker), so this record is the final portrait of the band as they once were, and it's a good one. This record got a bit overshadowed by a torrent of great releases last spring and summer, but it's still as solid a record as I've come to expect from this band. They had a lot of competition in the roots-rock genre this year, from the likes of the Damnwells, Ryan Adams and Dawes, but the album's finest songs stand easily with the best of those, and the band's albums continue to remind me of the golden age of radio rock that was happening when I was a kid. It's a shame that these guys never got beyond "Boston" as far as radio airplay went, but this album is full of great songs that would have made worthy hits.

Key tracks: "Just Stay Here Tonight," "The Wrong Side of Love," "You Were Made For Me"

23. Death Cab For Cutie - Codes and Keys

Despite the fact that it lacks the emotional force of their best work (which, to me, remains the one-two punch of Transatlanticism and Plans), Codes and Keys is an intriguing piece of work from a band that I've always liked but rarely loved. Sonically, it sounds as great as anything they've ever done, with the production and the instrumentation immediately creating a musical landscape that proves to be simply rapturous. The songwriting rarely reaches the height of their best material, but when it does, like on the thrillingly beautiful ride of "Unobstructed Views" (which recalls "Passenger Seat") or the bright acoustic finale of "Stay Young, Go Dancing," the record truly soars. Both of those are among the purest love songs frontman Ben Gibbard has ever written, and even though they take on a heartwrenching edge now that the relationship that inspired them has come to an end, they're still among my favorite songs of the year. One of the year's many great nighttime records.

Key tracks: "Home is a Fire," "Unobstructed Views," "Stay Young, Go Dancing"

24. Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues

Three years ago, Fleet Foxes' debut self-titled album was the last piece of the puzzle for a top ten that I still regard pretty highly. The order may have switched around, but every record that I placed on my list that year has stood the test of time, and the exquisite, atmospheric vocal harmonies of Fleet Foxes' appalachian folk music were no different. The highly anticipated follow up doesn't quite reach the level of its predecessor as a whole, but the finest moments find the band nearing perfection: I couldn't stop listening to the vocal splendor of the title track when this album came out, and I still think it's one of the year's best songs. "Someone You'd Admire" is a sparse acoustic number that feels both fresh and classic, while "The Shrine/An Argument" has a tumultuous build that allows the anger in frontman Robin Pecknold's voice to really stand out. And "Grown Ocean" is one of the year's most driving and epic closers. Those four songs overshadow the rest of the record a bit, but the first half is exceptional as well, with "Montezuma" picking off where the last record left off; it's not much a departure, but the second the vocal harmonies kick in, you'll be hard pressed to care.

Key tracks: "Helplessness Blues," "The Shrine/An Argument," "Grown Ocean"

25. Transit - Listen & Forgive

Transit spends much of their excellent third full length record recounting nostalgic experiences and basking in the power of music to move the soul. It's perhaps appropriate that I begin and end my list with two records that have a lot in common, as Listen & Forgive is an emotional pop-punk album that reminds me in a lot of ways of both Dangerous Summer records.  It's probably the third or fourth obvious "break-up record" on this list, and while that type of album in this genre can easily come across as whiny and one-dimensional, the songwriting skills on display here escape that fate with ease: see the emotive, wistful chorus of the album's first single, "Long Lost Friends," the instantly infectious hook of "All Your Heart" or the acoustic swell of "Skipping Stone," whose tour-de-force vocal harmonies actually result in some legit overtones (who ever heard of that in pop-punk music?) And even though slot 25 is a precarious position for any record to be in, since plenty of records contended and plenty more could still grow on me enough to take its place, every time the shout along chorus comes in on "The Answer Comes in Time," the album's climactic moment, I can't help but feel like putting it at the end of this list just feels right.

Key tracks: "Skipping Stone," "Long Lost Friends," "The Answer Comes in Time"

The Honorable Mentions

Those 25 records represent a lot of what defined 2011 for me, but of course, there were countless more songs and albums that earned special places in my heart this year, and it hurt to cut a few of them from this ultimate list. Out of the 150 some new albums I listened to this year, here are some of the exclusions I had the hardest time making:

Snow Patrol and The Script made terrific pop-rock albums that I would have been absolutely crazy about 5 or 6 years ago, but that I still enjoyed immensely today for their big, earnest, soundtrack-ready sound. I could not find a way to include either of them.

Peter Bradley Adams and Mree both released gorgeous, moving and incredibly calming records that I found myself returning to over and over again. I still think both deserve more time than I gave them though, and as a result, I could not find room for them either.

The Swellers and The Wonder Years both wrote records that, much like Transit and The Dangerous Summer, took the often formulaic pop-punk genre to another level. Each hit me hard, mostly for nostalgic reasons, but both had individual songs that were greater than the whole, and as a result, I felt inclined to leave them off when all was said and done.

Blink-182 delivered a comeback record that featured some of the most addicting pop rock songs of the year, a set of songs that amounted to one of their finest records, but one that left my regular rotation too quickly to make my top 25.

Sleeping At Last and Jim Ivins both released incredible EPs (in the former's case, a whole set of them), with songs that were easily among my favorites of the year, but I've never felt comfortable putting EPs on a list of full length albums, and the task of getting through 12 EPs of material was simply too daunting for me to get a full grasp on the Sleeping At Last Material.

Chad Perrone, the guy who took my album of the year title last year, released a home-recorded, stripped down project that was half new material, half acoustic reinventions of old stuff. The presence of pre-released stuff made me more inclined to consider it a live album, and as a result, it was ineligible for my list, but it's something I can fully recommend.

The Horrors made a record of retro, 80s-esque rock and roll that reminded me on first listen of how I felt when I first heard the Killers' debut record. It also never got enough listens, though the album's centerpiece cut, "Still Life," hasn't left my rotation.

M83 put together a double album of U2-sized atmospherics that I'm only just getting into. It's far too early for me to judge it as a whole, but suffice to say that Pitchfork might not be too far off in naming "Midnight City" the best song of the year.

Go Radio and I Can Make a Mess Like Nobody's Business both made inconsistent albums whose finest moments resonated with me in astounding ways on summer nights. Those moments will appear on my song list, even though both albums fall a bit short of this one.

Lydia, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and City & Colour all released records that I would classify as disappointments due to the high level of quality achieved on previous records in their careers, but all three records had shining moments that made me really want to love them as a whole. Sadly, I never did.

Matthew Ryan and Jon McLaughlin both released new records, but I believe both deserve more time before I judge them fully, and as a result, I had to leave them behind.

This Love released a moving, inspirational collection of pop-rock songs by interpolating famous presidential speeches into their music. It was a close one, but I ultimately couldn't quite justify its presence on the list. The same can be said for The Cinema, a pop side project (the lead singer of Lydia) that I liked right away, but never delved far enough into to truly love.

Manchester Orchestra created a disjointed, heavily flawed record that I still found myself coming back to repeatedly, for reasons that I still can't explain completely. 

The Summer Set put out an album of catchy power pop that was mostly disposable, but which spawned a few staples for my summer soundtrack.

Frank Ocean made an innovative R&B mixtape that featured originals and clever re-imaginings of other artists' songs. This style has never been my thing, but Ocean's voice is fantastic, and his unique approach to this type of music caught my ear. It deserves a mention.

Meg & Dia made a ridiculously fun summer pop album that I never gave the time it deserved. It's a record I expect will grow on me in the year to come, but for now, it misses the list.

And R.E.M. said their goodbyes to the music industry with Collapse Into Now, where they referenced every one of their eras before closing the book on their illustrious career with the album's coda, "Blue." It's a record I always admired more than I loved, especially since their break-up, but even though it didn't make my list of favorites, it deserves the most honorable of mentions.