I am among several people who enjoys listening to music. I will now summarize for you, the sensual, gyrating masses, my favorite new music of 2009. Feel free to obtain this music for yourself and thank me later when your life becomes awesome.

Favorite Albums

Avett Brothers – I and Love and You

This was my most enjoyable musical find of the year. This rootsy, North Carolina-based trio has been around for a while, but their new album received a lot of attention because it was produced by the bearded zenmaster Rick Rubin. The album sounds gorgeous and organic, and I just couldn’t believe how many songs I loved the first time through. The album felt familiar, yet its warmhearted themes and tight brotherly harmonies were punctuated with plenty of unexpected left turns that kept me guessing.

Doves – Kingdom of Rust

Doves were a moody British band I loved back in the early aughts who I thought had started to slide with their last album. Happily, they rebounded this year with what I felt was their best effort. Doves’ best material has a melancholy sweep to it and is able to build and crest under Jimi Goodwin’s beautiful alto. This album has no shortage of such cinematic loveliness. Kingdom of Rust is definitely worth checking out and giving a bit of time to let it seep under your skin. (Incidentally, this seemed to be Bridgette’s favorite of the new albums I got this year.)

U2 – No Line on the Horizon

Read my full review from earlier in the year here. Many listens later, it’s still a great album with tons of layers. I’ll only add that the album’s elusive, slow-burning songs have gained stature in my mind while the middle stretch of radio-oriented material feels a bit more out of place.

Wilco – Wilco (the Album)

My brother in law and I are each big Wilco fans, but this is an album we disagree on. He’s inclined to favor Wilco’s fractured, dissonant, “challenging” material from earlier this decade like Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (which I also dig) and A Ghost is Born (not as much). A few years later, lead singer Jeff Tweedy is apparently in a happier, more contented mental space and he’s produced another straightforward “mature” album. While its heights aren’t as towering as 2007’s Sky Blue Sky, this is a great album with warmth, wit (see “Wilco [the Song]“), and impeccable craftsmanship.

Runners Up:

EELS – Hombre Lobo: 12 Songs of Desire
E sacrificed some melodic consistency for thematic purity on this album. It’s probably destined to be a worthwhile curio in the EELS catalogue, but it doesn’t stand up next to their last effort.
Mark Knopfler – Get Lucky
Same as Knopfler’s last three albums: expertly-performed, authentic, and relaxed.
Michael Bublé – Crazy Love
A wonderfully tuneful, tasteful album for any pop-jazz vocal afficianado. I’m honestly not sure how much of the artistry is his though, so I can’t put it on my most-recommended list.
Joshua James – Build Me This
Singer-songwriter’s inevitable band-oriented sophomore effort. Good stuff, but bigger isn’t always better.
Peter Bradley Adams – Traces
This guy keeps making the same album, but who cares when they’re so damn good?
Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers – The Live Anthology
Rocking and revelatory.

A Disappointment:

Derek Webb – Stockholm Syndrome
The controversial album from this important Christian artist was a mixed bag for me. The daring production style (see: Yorke, Thom) was great and created a freshness to the material, but the songs just weren’t strong enough musically. Christian reviewers (especially those with more progressive inclinations) bent over backwards praising the album’s sometimes ham-fisted lyrical content. On the other hand, I just couldn’t get past the fact that a lot of melodies felt undercooked. It’s a fine album if you’re the type to read and reflect on the words without ever desiring to sing along.

Favorite Songs:

Doves – “Kingdom of Rust”: A dark, textured epic.
EELS – “Beginner’s Luck”: Catchy and deserving to be heard.
Rocket Club – “One More Day”: Local country-rock effort written by a father who lost his daughter to a fatal illness. Always gets me a bit misty-eyed, like “Christmas Shoes” but better. (FREE DOWNLOAD)
Wilco – “One Wing”: Great mix of Wilco’s beautiful and artistic ambitions.
Derek Webb – “What Matters More”: The best and worst of Webb’s album is distilled into this pretty remarkable track that his record label refused to release.
Jars of Clay – “Headphones”: A stirring call to Christian love.
Avett Brothers – “I And Love And You”: A wonderfully broken, rootsy ballad.

(See also their hilarious video for “Slight Figure of Speech”)
U2 – “Moment of Surrender”: For me, this was the best, most beautiful, most movingly-performed song I came across this year.

(See also my musical roundups for 2008, 2007, 2006, & 2005)

I picked up a bunch of the newly remastered Beatles albums today. Because I am not a man of unlimited means like Kent Hrbek, I had to choose only what I felt were their five MOST essential albums – Rubber Soul, Revolver, Sgt. Pepper’s, the White Album, and Abbey Road.

Handing my sweaty, saved-up cash wad to the cashier, I scurried out the door to the safe confines of my car where I unwrapped Revolver popped it in the CD player. Safely within the conservative confines of my Hyundai, the droning blast of “Tomorrow Never Knows” blew back my hair and tickled my tender underbelly. The sounds were crisper, clearer, and Paul McCartney’s basslines wrapped themselves around me like a python in heat.

It was as if I was transported back in time to Abbey Road studios. I could close my eyes and witness George Harrison’s glowering mutters, McCartney’s smiley bossiness, and Yoko Ono’s atonal screams from a bed positioned in the corner of the studio for unexplained reasons. I could even inhale deeply and smell the foul mixture of weed and John Lennon’s beard. Despite these things, the remastered album experience was great.

Speeding home at 85mph in my maroon Korean steed to the raunchy swirl of “Helter Skelter”, I rolled down my windows and screamed obscenities at passing vehicles like Michael Richards on the last day of school. In recognition of what I was experiencing, several drivers of other vehicles similarly rolled down their windows and shouted, “BEATLES NUMBER ONE!” and drove their cars off a bridge.

So the remastered albums are worth checking out. I recommend listening to them in a Hyundai. I doubly recommend listening to them in a Hyundai while groping a loved one, but maybe that’s just me.

Of all the things my long-suffering wife has had to endure in our marriage, surely the strangest must be my genuine enjoyment of the works of Mr. Neil Diamond.

Yes, I know about the sparkly shirts, I’m aware of his extended detour into schmaltz from 1977-2000, and I’m aware that he has the hair of a Jim Henson creation. However, I’m also appreciative of the fact that he’s a remarkably expressive singer who has written an incredible number of quality songs and huge hits (though the two often weren’t mutual). Like a spear-fisher with a gleaming brass trident, he stabs his songs into existence and bellows the haggard shout of life.

Don’t bother to analyze that last sentence.

Diamond was the longtime victim of snobbish disparagement by music critics, but recent years have seen a welcome re-evaluation of his gifts as a songwriter and showman. A cursory cruise through his copious catalog reveals a cornucopia of catchy choruses: Cherry Cherry, Cracklin’ Rosie, I’m a Believer, Sweet Caroline, I Am…I Said, Brooklyn Roads, Forever in Blue Jeans, Love on the Rocks, etc. A celebration of these songs is not what this blog entry is about, however. Like my Paul McCartney post a few weeks back, this entry is here to direct interested listeners to a few lesser-known Neil Diamond gems. These songs might suprise you with their quality, or maybe they’ll make you hate me. Either way, the important thing is that I’m making you read this.

The Boat That I Row (1967):
This track has all the appeal of Diamond’s early hits like Solitary Man, but without their over-familiarity. It allows the listener to hear him for the miner of high-quality pop nuggets that he was. This song’s subject matter was also prescient, noting that he didn’t fit in well with any musical category (nor would he ever – whose career does his parallel?).

Lordy (live, 1969):
For all the dippiness his studio recordings occasionally demonstrated, Neil Diamond has a longstanding reputation as a remarkable live performer. This early live recording is shocking in its intensity – the reserved, polite audience gets a growling, howling performance by a lean band. It certainly ain’t The Who, but it’s pretty good nonetheless. (Check out a fun cover by Nine Inch Neils, a metal tribute band, here.)

Captain Sunshine (1972):
For my money, Diamond’s peak years were 1968-1972, when he began asserting a measure of creative independence and maturity but hadn’t yet descended into AOR schlock (albeit well-crafted, occasionally worthwhile schlock). This track is an example of the understated, wonderfully melodic quality of much of his work in those peak years. It’s California-influenced, country-twinged pop – doing the Eagles thing when they were just getting started. While his albums are notoriously scattered affairs, there’s a few from this era worth investigating for their lesser-known tracks like this one.

Gitchy Goomy ; Porcupine Pie (both 1972)
Neil Diamond is a part-time purveyor of goodtime nonsense songs – instantly likeable, singalong tunes that mean absolutely nothing at all. These are two of my favorites in this category. The lyrics are genuinely head-scratching, but if they catch you in the right mood, you’ll be tapping your toe in seconds.

Here’s a great, goofy video I found online for one of these songs by a couple high school kids. I got a real kick out of it.

Hooked on the Memory of You (1988):
Here is this list’s sole representative of Diamond’s schmaltz years. The song is a pretty, affecting ballad notable for its (relatively) understated production – no dramatic key changes here. There’s an audience for this material (i.e. moms), and I can appreciate it in bite-sized portions. I like this song a lot, and it demonstrates that for all the producers he handed over the musical reins to, he never lost his touch for writing melody.

Hell Yeah (2005):
After the chart hits died out in the mid-1980s, Neil Diamond spent the 90s churning out greatest-hits packages and Christmas albums (notable because he’s Jewish). There were sporadic sparks of life, but most Diamond fans simply assumed his best was now clearly behind him. 2005 marked the release of 12 Songs, an album produced by uber-producer Rick Rubin (Metallica, Beastie Boys, Johnny Cash). Diamond and Rubin also partnered on 2008’s Home Before Dark, with yet another album in the works for next year. The albums are sparse affairs – the instrumentation is primarily organic and acoustic but the spark was back. Their work together hasn’t been flawless, but it is regularly excellent. This track, Hell Yeah, demonstrates the verve and potency of these albums. It was Neil Diamond re-introducing himself, and not apologizing for anything.

Delirious Love (2005):
This was the first single from 12 Songs, notable for the involvement of Brian Wilson. As a result, the studio version sounded like a mash up of Diamond’s 60s-era style with the Beach Boys. It’s a fun, infectious tune. When he performs it live, it’s more of an intense, churning style built on chugging acoustics.

Another Day That Time Forgot (2008):
This is a brooding rumination of a song performed as a duet with Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks. The lyrics are somber but captivating, and the performance itself it haunting. He sticks with the minor chords here, feeling no need to oblige his mom-audience with a chipper resolution. Notably, many of his latter-era songs like this demonstrate qualities in his songs that weren’t evident until this point; clear evidence that he was no longer on autopilot.

If I Don’t See You Again (2008):
Here’s a startlingly honest break-up song that demonstrates that, when he picks his moments carefully, Neil Diamond is the king of the dramatic buildup. If this song had been around back when I was dating and breaking up with some regularity, this would have been a tune I would have held on to. At the same time, it’s a strange song – it’s over seven minutes long, there isn’t really a chorus, and no lyrics repeat except for the title. It’s a hell of a thing.

Here’s video of him performing the song with the Rubin’s session men, including Mike Campbell and Benmont Tench from the Heartbreakers.

By the way, I should apologize. I know that 1,000 words on Neil Diamond probably wasn’t what you were looking for when you visited my blog today. Come back tomorrow for a post on mule hoarding.

Sorry folks, no goofy post today. I’m actually going ahead with a post I’ve long been ruminating on: my top ten Paul McCartney songs you probably don’t know but should definitely check out.

For years, McCartney struggled to garner much critical respect; most critics dismissed his work as slight and throwaway. This was due to two factors: McCartney’s own inconsistant output, and the effort to canonize and mythologize John Lennon at the expense of his former songwriting partner. The last ten years has seen a welcome critical re-evaluation of Paul McCartney’s solo work. He was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, and his bold, creatively-vital albums this decade have led people back to an appreciation of his career highlights since the Beatles ended. Now he headlines Coachella festivals and collects stellar reviews for new albums. How do you like him now?

Over the past few years, I’ve been poring over a lot of his work. Certainly not all of it is great, but it’s a pleasure uncovering more hidden examples of his effortless melodies and playful song suites. You don’t need this blog to tell you that “Maybe I’m Amazed” or “My Love” are gorgeous, or that “Jet” and “Live And Let Die” kick ass. Instead, I wanted to point you toward ten lesser-known tracks you won’t find on any brief greatest hits album. A couple of these were singles, but none were massive hits. Most of them are album tracks that have worn well. Think of this list as a multicolored buffet of sweet ear-pudding.

1. Junk (1970): McCartney’s first solo album was a homemade batch of songs that initially didn’t sit well with fans or critics expecting a sound on par with the superb production of the Beatles. “Junk” is a lovely little tune about a lonely antique shop, and its homespun, snapshot charm is part of its appeal.

2. Big Barn Bed (1973): This is a bizarre tune with an infectious groove. Like a lot of these tracks, McCartney played every instrument himself, and the production is strong (Jeff Tweedy nodded to this era McCartney and Wings as partial inspiration for the sound of the last Wilco album). The song is about life on his rural Scottish farm with wife Linda and their kids.

3. Rock Show w/ “Venus & Mars” intro until 1:10 (1975):
McCartney has a reputation as a balladeer, but his rock output is regularly awesome. “Helter Skelter” and “Jet” are his most celebrated songs in this vein, but I’d put “Rock Show” up with any of them. In it, he turns the tables, singing about the excitment at a big concert, the moment before the band takes the stage. The tune is fun puzzle with odd little side sections and a drug reference or two. It’s a bummer he doesn’t seem to pull this one out in concerts anymore – he tends to rely too heavily on the crowd-pleasers these days.

4. Goodnight Tonight (1980)

Here’s a song from the late disco era with hooks galore. It’s a clever little tune, with the singer pleading with his date to stay with him, while the countermelodies offer her replies of “I gotta go home”. Great singing, catchy melodies, and offbeat instrumentation make this a fun song to uncover. The 1920s-themed video has a goofy charm to it as well.

5. Tug of War (1982): This is the title track to an acclaimed album McCartney put out in the wake of John Lennon’s death. There are allusions to his relationship with Lennon in this song, which adds an emotional heft to it that isn’t always present in his work. The song itself is fine, but for me the real payoff is the bridge (at about 2:05 of the song) – it’s a soaring, yearning moment that can give me goosebumps if it catches me in the right mood.

6. Calico Skies (1997):

With a few exceptions, the late 80s and early 90s were creatively barren years for McCartney (and most of his generational peers). He seemed to break out of his slump with 1997’s Flaming Pie album. This track displays his deft acoustic guitar skills (similar to “Blackbird”) and the lyrics are a lovely ode to his wife Linda. He wrote it when she was dying of breast cancer, making it all the more touching.

7. Your Loving Flame (2001): Here’s an excellent late-period ballad from McCartney – just a beautiful, lovely song. The key to the song for me is the switch into the minor chords for the chorus. It adds enough bitter to the sweetness to make it a song worth returning to.

8. Friends to Go (2005): This is from Chaos & Creation in the Backyard, an excellent album produced by Nigel Godrich (Radiohead, Travis) and again featuring McCartney playing every instrument. I could have picked 5 or 6 songs from this album, but I chose this midtempo rocker with a sturdy groove and catchy hook. He said he felt like he was channeling George Harrison when he wrote it, which definitely comes through.

9. That Was Me live (2007): This is a fun autobiographical tune, like his memories being run through kaleidoscope. Again, the hooks are plentiful in this song, tossed out offhandedly with supreme confidence.

10. Sing the Changes (2008): This was released last year under the pseudonym The Fireman, a name he’s used for some of his past experimental electronic projects. This track, however, is a gorgeous, swirling song that soars beautifully. Written and recorded in a day, it demonstrates that McCartney, even at age 67, still has some magic left in him.

Today marks the official release of U2’s No Line on the Horizon.

I’ve been a pretty massive U2 fan since 1991’s Achtung Baby, so the fact that I’m about to give a positive review of the album should come as no surprise. However, not all U2 fans are the same. In my case, my fervor for the band probably peaked with 1997’s much-maligned Pop, and while I hold a fond affectation for the songs on All That You Can’t Leave Behind (2000) and How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb (2004), I never felt that those albums were transcendent in the way their best work has been.

So here are my obligatory thoughts on the new U2 album, after having listened to it a half-dozen times or so since downloading it (don’t worry, Mr. McGuinness, I’m still buying the physical copy for display):

Overall, the album is great. Really great. Maybe even transcendent. Certainly the mainstream press reviews have been excellent (Rolling Stone, Blender, Entertainment Weekly). Produced (and co-written!) by Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois, it is not the classicist’s U2 from their last two albums, but an assured, darker, looser band. Not many tight song structures or obvious hooks to be found here, and the album is better for it.

Thoughts on various tracks:

No Line on the Horizon: As I sat at my kitchen table, listening to this song the first time, I kept expecting the huge, chiming U2 from their last few albums to show up. Instead, I got this churning, layered song with an understated chorus and great bassline. My first reaction was a touch underwhelming, but repeated listens have really melted my initial feelings away. This song is an epic, swirling table-setting tune, like Zoo Station or Zooropa from their early 90s output.

Magnificent: Okay, HERE’S your classicist’s U2. Heck, this song might as well be Pride, 2009-style. It seems to me that this could be a massive single.

Moment of Surrender: This is my favorite song on the album to this point. For a band that spends 18 months recording and re-recording tracks, this is a song that they only performed once for tape. By all accounts, the moment was too magical to go back and tinker with, and I can’t disagree. It’s a song about giving in to something greater than ourselves, and it’s gospel-tinged chorus is the most moving moment on the album for me. It’s like a subtler version of One, recorded by a band uninterested in making it a hit.

Unknown Caller: This is an odd one. A chanted chorus reciting operating software shorthand sounds like a recipe for a Radiohead song, but in this case (unlike Radiohead) there’s a heartbeat at the center of the lyric, urging the listener to “shout for joy if you get the chance.” Despite the un-hummable melody, this song features a gorgeous (and extremely rare) extended guitar solo by the Edge, worth the price of the album for a Edge-o-phile like myself.

I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight – Remember everything I said about this album not stretching itself for a hit single? Well, ignore all that in the case of this song. This is a paint-by-numbers U2 single, with Bono belting out a set of charming non-sequiturs and a fat, happy chorus. I’ve already heard this on Cities 97, and I suppose that’s fine, but it isn’t one I’ll return to often.

Get On Your Boots – Read my thoughts on this song here. Within the context of the album, this song is part of a 3-song halftime party that just barely fits in with the rest of No Line on the Horizon.

Stand Up Comedy – Everything that I said about I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight probably holds true here, except for the fact that this song kicks ass. I love the hugeness of this song, and the cleverness of the lyric takes the edge off the preachiness. Apparently this song was inspired by an upcoming documentary film that featured the Edge woodsheddin’ with Jimmy Page – a listen to the first 15 seconds of the song bears that influence out.

White As Snow – This song sounds like an old western song, but from a backdrop of the Middle East. It’s a quiet, haunting tune, with excellent harmonies and backing vocals from the Edge and co-producer Daniel Lanois. As a matter of fact, this album features a softer, more delicate bed of harmony vocals than any previous U2 album.

Cedars of Lebanon – As U2 is wont to do, they wrapped up this album with a highlight. This sparse, haunting meditation is delivered in a gravelly whisper, and ends with an exhortation to “choose your enemies carefully, because they will define you.” This is the sort of disquieting tune that makes it difficult to step right back into your life once it’s over.

Like I said earlier, it’s too early to tell if this album is one of their best. Certainly, it’s excellent to an unprecedented degree for a band in its 33rd year of operation. Unlike their last few albums, it’s no collection of hits. Instead, it’s a challenging, cohesive slow-burner, beautifully performed and immaculately crafted. It’s definitely worth picking up and lingering over for a while.

2008 was a banner year for music around the Welle household. Well, it was for me at least. I don’t know that my wife listened to any music this year. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her since summer ended…

Setting that issue aside for the moment, here are my favorite albums of 2008:

The Hold Steady: Stay Positive

These ex-Minnesotan rockers now stationed out of Brooklyn just keep getting better and better. Like Bruce Springsteen crossed with American Movie’s Mark Borchardt, singer/songwriter Craig Finn pens lyrics that examine waning youth, Midwestern adolescence, and defiant Catholicism and chemical dependency. Despite the fact that none of those themes has any personal resonance for me, I find my ears straining to catch the next great line out of my favorite rock lyricist (my favorite from this album was the logical conundrum, “If one townie falls in the forest, does anyone notice?”) Meanwhile, the rest of the band rocks along like the greatest bar band in purgatory. This was my favorite album of 2008. Everybody should own at least one Hold Steady album, and I hope that Barack Obama will make this vision a reality.

Fleet Foxes: S/T

I don’t know much of the backstory of this group, but judging from the band’s sound and appearance, five Appalachian hill people wandered into a time-travel vortex in 1911 and were transported into a 2008 Seattle recording studio. The songs are rustic, melodic, and otherworldly – strikingly pretty and familiar while remaining unconventional. The four-part chamber harmonies don’t hurt either.

Coldplay: Viva La Vida

Whether it be the momentous hype that heralded the album’s arrival, the pedestrian first single, or just nine years of Coldplay fatigue, I heard a few friends express a resigned ambivalence about this album. Whether the album is what they wanted is one matter, but I think it’s a confident step in a new direction for this great band. Producer Brian Eno seems to have really stretched them to take some of the air out of the songs and go for smaller, less obvious pleasures. Whereas X&Y felt like A Rush of Blood to the Head, only with a longer runtime, Viva La Vida is elusive, and rewards repeated listens. Song fragments dip in and out, and structures are much more untraditional. The title track is one of the odder hit singles in memory – a rock band putting out a song with only a string section and timpani, yet the song flies out of the speakers. (The excellent addendum EP Prospekt’s March only heightened my esteem for the album by showcasing the beautiful songs they intentionally left off.)

Elbow: The Seldom Seen Kid

Yes, this was about the same as 2006’s Leaders of the Free World, but it’s still a damn good album. The thing about Elbow is that the absolutely gorgeous singing and stirring melodies distract from the fact that the musical textures they create are wholly original. They sound more conventional than they actually are. Haunted instrumentation, oddball production flourishes, and patient buildups mark the Elbow sound, yet it’s never hard work to like them.

The Hopefuls: Now Playing at the One-Seat Theatre

These Minneapolis rockers (formerly The Olympic Hopefuls) feature the tandem talents of my two favorite local musicians, John Hermanson (Storyhill) and Darren Jackson (Kid Dakota). Their brand of power pop features a slippery bed of guitars and tinkling percussion, sweet synth like the Cars, and classical songwriting like Fountains of Wayne. The eleven songs don’t let up to take a breather and leave you with a sugar headache by album’s end, but it’s worth it.

(Download a free mp3 of Stacey, by the Hopefuls, compliments of the John Larroquette Project!)

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Other solid albums from this year:
Snow Patrol: A Hundred Million Suns
Pretty much like their last two albums – solid, agreeable stuff with a few great singles.

Bon Iver: For Emma, Forever Ago
Rural Wisconsin dude retreats to a hunting cabin to record a haunting lament in multitracked falsetto. Tough to return to repeatedly, but compelling stuff.

Neil Halstead: Oh! Mighty Engine
Mojave 3 frontman records a pretty solo album indistinguishable from Mojave 3, but that’s fine with me. This guy shits wistful.

Peter Bradley Adams: Leavetaking
L.A. songwriter’s second solo acoustic album is tastefully written, produced, and performed. I keep it at my desk at work – it’s background music, but it’s legitimate.

Oasis: Dig Out Your Soul
Now in their late 30s, these guys dug out some dirty grooves on this album. Some of it is filler, like it always is with them, but some of it is turn-up-your-speakers great.

Neil Diamond: Home Before Dark
Second stripped-down album helmed by uber-producer Rick Rubin. The law of diminishing returns was perhaps in play here, but Diamond’s eternal skills as a songwriter are still sharp, and that’s good to hear.

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Disappointments:
Ben Folds: Way to Normal
Dude, looking down on the characters in your own songs starts to turn people off after a while. You’re a talented, witty songwriter – how about saying something positive instead?

Travis: Ode to J. Smith
In an effort to shake up the doldrums, our Scottish friends wrote and recorded an entire album in a few weeks. The sound is refreshingly rough, but the songs just weren’t there.

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Favorite songs of 2008, for you chronically impatient downloaders out there:

Oasis: The Shock of the Lightning
Best rock song of 2008, hands down.

Bon Iver: RE: stacks
A haunting heartbreaker of a tune.

Fleet Foxes: Ragged Wood
A great, beautiful, otherworldly tune.

The Hold Steady: Magazines
The Hold Steady: Constructive Summer
Two favorites from an excellent album

Ben Folds: Cologne
Amid a snarky, coarse album lies this gem of a song for saying goodbye to someone dear.

And lastly, though this song isn’t technically from 2008, here’s a free mp3 for you: Nels, by aging Minneapolis hipsters Kubla Khan, perhaps the most inexplicably awesome song I came across this year.