Hear the days go

Before January ends, I wanted to look back, and write about my favorite music from the year just passed. I used to do this on a regular basis, starting from my days as a staffer in Pulp magazine; to when I was music editor of Burn, the magazine I co-founded; and as the editor-in-chief of the online music magazine Pulse.ph — and most recently, as one-third of the people behind The QLE Awards. It’s always a process fraught with frustration and fun, though usually more of the latter, fortunately.

A lot happened in music last year, as is true of basically every year. New and noteworthy releases by bands like Ang Bandang Shirley and Up Dharma Down came out; foreign artists galore came to these shores; Cynthia Alexander went away, her motivations misreported and debated and finally set straight; a film (Ang Nawawala) that wouldn’t have existed without the local music scene found an appreciative audience; the Death of OPM was declared and refuted (again); and so on, much too much to fit into this paragraph. People made music, period: some of it released on vinyl, much of it as digital downloads (free or otherwise). Much of it good, much of it bad, some of it great.

The more I thought of the music I loved in 2012, though, the more it boiled down — for me — into two releases. “Follow the Leader” by Ciudad and “No End in Sight” by Outerhope: my album of the year and my EP of the year, respectively.

It’s true, I have personal connections to these bands, particularly Outerhope, and thus complete objectivity is impossible. But, first of all, loving music is not a matter of objectivity, and second, this is just wonderful music, whatever the circumstances behind my discovering it.

Ciudad’s “Follow the Leader” is a glorious pop record: you’ll find yourself listening to song after song, enjoying each one, each time dreading a dud and being happily surprised to find not a single one. You Know the Answer, Just Follow the Leader is irresistible and slightly demented in the best possible way (just like its video); Leads ambles along charmingly and is likely to inspire singing along; There’s a Lonely Road to Sunday Night, an instant favorite, is somehow sad and inspiring all at once; Things I Don’t Need is clever and catchy and will have you making your own lists in your head. You get the idea.

Outerhope’s “No End in Sight” marks the natural evolution of the brother-sister duo’s sound, as they draw on deep memories and new discoveries and craft songs that strike me as both fresh and timeless, subtle yet immediately pleasurable. Hear the Days Go glides along on intertwined synths and guitar work and the twin-like interplay of their voices, filling the listener with yearning and a kind of internal humming; Lost Year is heartbreaking and hypnotic, bittersweetness in slow motion; title track No End in Sight is a bright star of a song; and the uncharacteristically strummy Pale As the Day is as welcome as deadline-free days or old friendships. The EP is, quite simply, four of the best songs of the year, assembled in one impeccable release. It is, by the way, still available for free download at the Number Line Records site.

(Incidentally, the Number Line Records site has been totally revamped. If you’ve been there before, it’s time to revisit it; if you’ve never been, and you possess ears and access to the internet, I have no idea what you’re waiting for. Aside from Outerhope’s excellent EP and tons of previous releases, they just came out with their year-ending — or year-starting, depending on how you look at it — compilation, with tracks by some of the label’s best acts. Go get it.)

I’ll leave you with an excerpt from Lyrics and Backstories, the book included in the thank-you package that Outerhope gave to the people who supported their celebrated performances at the NYC/SF Popfests. It’s a glance behind the scenes of the making of Pale As the Day, written by Micaela Benedicto, and I think it ends this look back on an appropriate note.

“Months after the trip, this is the song that reminds me of it most, among all the songs in the EP. The two people meeting, or ‘appearing,’ were my brother and me smoking outside JFK about to begin our first real tour, or me and my friend meeting beneath the clock in Grand Central Station five years ago, a year before she had her first child. On repeated listens the song makes me think about other friends and other times, of first encounters and last ones, and the pale gray color of being in between.”