Yet again, the keepers of wilful obscurity have pored over this year’s Ritalin-fuelled bleepings and selected their Albums of the Year. Call me old fashioned, but I think an annual top 100 is a bit over the top. Can you really collectively evaluate 100 albums in any meaningful way?
I listened to samples from the higher-ranked albums and the top-placed Dances/Curses by Hey Colossus is the only one I’d explore again. If you are feeling virtuous you may want to sample the eighth-placed offering, described as thus: “On her fourth full length release, Nadine Shah engages with the gendered politics of interpersonal arrangements, keeping her gaze fixed on the time pressures of maturing womanhood”. Bonzer.
I like some of the writing in The Quietus (especially that by Chart Music’s Taylor Parkes, who is essentially me if I’d made less sensible and more interesting life choices), and it’s touching to know that there is still an audience for smugly defiant obscurism, but fuck me, their office parties must be unbearable.