Daveportivo's Cultural Evaluation Facility

I already feel bad putting the incredible Merriweather Post Pavilion in second place, after all it has been almost uniformly recognized as the album of the year. It's gotten perfect reviews from every publication in existence, and it's featured in the top two or three of every major countdown, yet, it appears to be the ugly step sister when it comes to countdowns, always finishing second. Only Pitchfork put this album in it's rightful place atop the end of year polls, and despite knowing that pound for pound that Merriweather Post Pavilion is clearly this year's greatest album I just can't give it the top spot. There's something about this record, beneath all it's brilliance, it's mighty grooves and it's incredible hooks it just doesn't quite connect to you on the personal level. It's magical, captivating and inspiring but it's not the type of album that you can truly call you're favourite, it doesn't quite make that bond. Now this may seem like a shallow reason to deny Merriweather Post Pavillion it's rightful place but it is the truth, and it's the albums only flaw, it's an album that amazes, that astounds but perhaps for those reasons I can't love it in the way a true number one should be loved.

When you first listen to Merriweather Post Pavilion you soon realize that something very special is going on, In The Flowers opens the album, and you're immediately overwhelmed by a senses of the aquatic, this album has a great liquidity, it has a natural flow, a pitter patter to it, the LP feels organic, natural and constantly beautiful. The album shimmers, like a secluded lake you've stumbled upon in the middle of the night, it leaves you transfixed as you watch the moon light dance and flicker on the lake's ever changing surfaces. Now this may sound overly grand but this is an album of rich sound, grand imagery and widescreen ideals. Of course the tranquil beauty gives way to incredible booming captivating beats, as you're thrown from you hazy hallucination by the cry of Avey Tare. "If I Could Just Leave My Body For The Night" is the dream on album opener In The Flowers and it perfectly encapsulates the entire album, this is an album that yearns for something more, something beautiful, something peaceful, an out of body experience and by the end of Merriweather Post Pavilion that wish has been thoroughly fulfilled. This mind warping opening is followed by one of the decade's greatest singles in the form of My Girls, a song whose sound is so inspiring, it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy, you'll no longer care for materiel things as long as music this heavenly continues to play, and of course it does only going from strength to strength.

The world in the 21st Century has become microscopic, for better or worse globalisation has touched almost every corner of this earth and the internet has brought us closer together with the people of the world than we could ever have dreamed possible just fifteen years ago. The musical world has shrunk even faster, while even multicultural London may not have incorporated the influence of Africa beyond the odd themed restaurant, in music sounds and ideas have clashed together and merged seamlessly to create inspiring and almost incomprehensible new sounds that have left even the most well versed music critic lost for words. Now African music, particularly the relentless tribal drum rhythms of west Africa have been thoroughly incorperated into western music, bolstering the sound of trail blazers Diplo and M.I.A and more recently adding some hypnotic beats to our brilliant number two the Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion. However, this has been very much a one way process, the West has incorporated sounds from across the world and created great works, but what makes Warm Heart Of Africa so special is the fact that the process is flipped on it's head. Radioclit took all there western influences and took them straight to the heart of Malawi and created an album where UK and US beats are subservient to tribal chants, ethereal classical African choruses and of course those stomping irresistible drum beats.

The whole experience is thoroughly thrilling, they don't stop with just bringing some production nouse and some slicker than slick beats, The Very Best Of even took Ezra Koenig from the Vampire Weekend and transported him to the middle of Africa, the result was mind blowing, the album's title track somehow managed to surpass even the finest Vampire Weekend track. It's at this point, three tracks in, when you realize just what makes Warm Heart Of Africa the album of the year, it's not it's technical nouse, it's creative brilliance or it's beautiful harmonies, it's simply the feel good factor, this is an album that plasters a smile across you're face, every inch of this album is uplifting. Africa is a continent so often associated with tragedy, it feels positively inspiring to see all it's creativity, all it's cultural, and all it's artistry on display to be celebrated. It doesn't play second fiddle, this isn't a mild drum beat hidden under a million different production effects, this is the real sound of Africa. Nsokoto is the perfect example, I of course cannot understand a word of the track, but the pulsating rhythm, the sparse drums and the gorgeously layered vocals just transport you, you feel like you're there, your head is filled with imagery, not of starving children, but of smiling faces, beautiful scenery and the world's most insane dance moves.

In many ways this is the natural successor to Graceland, to many Western ears we never got to hear these gorgeous beats and these unique song structures except on Paul Simon's career defining work. This however is not the sanitised version, this is the real deal, this is Africa, and as you listen to the sweet melodies and the epic natural sweeps of Angonde you come to realize that they are just as good, if not better, than anything the once in a life time talent Paul Simon could create. Warm Heart Of Africa though is more than just a celebration of traditional Africa, of small villages and tribes, this is a thoroughly contemporary album, just listen to the buzzsaw crunch of Julia where Radioclit really come into their own, creating a monstrous blaring rave riff for Esau Mwamwaya gorgeous vocal to ride atop. Around the half way point the album begins to evolve, both sonically and spiritually, you feel that you're been taken on a magical mystery tour of Africa, no longer confined to Malawi, this is a grand tour, incorporating sea side villages, great plains, and underground night clubs in grimey towns, they are throwing everything at you. The electronic beats really start to stack up on the imposing Ntende Uli only to be countered by the organic Rain Dance, of course instead of Western bleeps Rain Dance is boosted by the care free swagger of M.I.A. By the time we reach the albums highlight the cooling feel good majesty of Kamphopo you realize that while Merriweather Post Pavilion may be the best album of the year if not the decade, it can't make you feel the way Warm Heart Of Africa does, this is a one of statement, it's an all encompassing cultural masterwork, whose album title hit the nail squarely on the head, there is no doubt about it, The Very Best Of have given us the Warm Heart Of Africa in all it's glory.

Due to social engagements I rather left you all hanging, and so in an effort to keep the content rolling over I'm going to publish the next three entrant in the list year before uploading the top two, so you'll have to wait a little longer to find out who the winner is, but for now let's dive into the top five.

The cult of personality can get you along way in this world, where the celebrity obsessed culture has evolved to a perverse extent. Lily Allen has become this world and this scene's reluctant hero. While she may not want this mantle across two albums and over five years Lily has ascended the pop mountain and become the UK's most sought after celebrity. Surprisingly in a culture that has fixated itself upon the surreal, creating a do anything to get famous culture, Lily's rise can be attributed to two factors; honesty and abundance of genuine song writing talent. While It's Not Me It's You may arguably be the weakest start to finish album on this countdown, it is easily the most personal and the most affecting. The power in It's Not Me It's You lies in it's earthy honesty, this is an album without pretence, it's an album that for better or worse, plays like a stream of consciousness, the unravelling of an inner neurosis, a series of intimate confessions line up one after another. Therein lies Lily Allen's secret, while their are many layers to her artistry, at it's core her music is both completely remarkable and unremarkable, at the same time. It's Not Me It's You captures a moment in time in a person's life, someone's thoughts, someone's fears, someone's relationships, heartaches and occasional political musings. Lily puts forward her own internal dialogue it's personal and unique and yet simultaneously the neurosis of your average 22 year old girl (and bloke for that matter), this may seem totally unremarkable, but the level of openness, introspection and honesty is rarely heard in hushed conversations between best friends let alone on record for millions to hear. As a result Lily let people in, and they took her to heart, and as Lily found out she unwittingly made herself public property.

Now musically It's Not Me It's You's central weapon was juxtaposition, tracks like 22 saw Lily contrasting sweetie pie musical theatre flourishes with stark fears of a twenty something in London, worrying about finding love and finding direction before the prime time of her life passes her by. Never Gonna Happen and the brilliant Not Fair saw Lily in scathing form, unashamedly showing off her own cruelty as she couldn't forgive the guy of her dreams for being shit in bed, it was far removed from the sanctified balladry of Beyonce, this was real, this was honest, this was the type of girl both men and women could identify with, the genuine article, warts and all. As a result tracks that knowingly portray Allen as the villain only served to make her a hero, as these were the same moral contradictions that defined all our lives. The Fear the album's runaway number one single, remains an incredible and terrifying work. The line "I want loads of clothes and fuck loads of diamonds, I hear people die while they're trying to find them" remains eye opening, while it can be read on the one level as a simple joke about people's disposable morality it goes further, it's truthful, The Fear see's Lily admitting she doesn't know "what's right anymore". In one fail swoop Lily has defined the confused apathetic amorality that has dominated twenty first century western culture, while Lily extols societies ills she's also the first to admit that she's no better; she worries about the state of the world but really she's most concerned about making sure that she's "getting thinner". It's at this point you realize that It's Not Me It's You is not a witty jaunt played for laughs penned by a talented song writer, it's in fact someone's own deep introspection laid out in front of you, for the world to see. Of course the world saw themselves in Lily as she battled with the same fears, desires and hypocritical moral dilemmas we all have to face. In doing so Lily created the years most touching album and became a national treasure in the process. It's Not Me It's You was less an album, and more a window into a nations collective consciousness at a crucial and distinct moment in all our lives.

(Warner Bros. 2009, The Flaming Lips)

I have mixed feelings about this album, I adored it, I love it to bits, and I shall shortly shower an unending stream of praise upon it, but, on more than one occasion it has made me look very foolish. I'm not ashamed to admit it that every single time I listen to The Sparrow Looks Up At The Machine when a little electronic burble of interference causes the beat to skip I end up reaching for my phone. Yes, the Flaming Lips actually incorporated the interference noise that occurs when you receive a text message next to an amp or set of speakers into a track, and yes each and every time I fall for it. In many ways this one cruel joke defines Embryonic and everything that makes the Lips great, in the middle of a beautiful piece of instrumentation they remain unafraid to throw in a self serving joke, and ask yourself this who other than the Flaming Lips would use a textual interference noise in a piece of such beauty? Embryonic then feels more like a celebration than a conventional album, in this one double album The Flaming Lips cram in all the off the wall experimentation, all the crunching grooves, all the huge riffage, all the silly jokes, all the drugs, all the sci, all of well...everything that has made the Flaming Lips who they are today. Embryonic may not be able to capture the magic in the bottle that made Soft Bulletin and Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots pop masterpieces, it instead sees the Lips create the album they've always threaten to make, a huge sci-fi psychedelic epic of limitless boundaries and endless creativity.

Perhaps Embryonic's greatest triumph is it's ability to bring such scope and wild creative together into one coherent package across a double album. There is a genuine flow to this album, it fits together in a remarkable organic nature and the first half of the LP flows like a dream, as moods blend together and elide to create a gorgeous whole. There is no doubt that tracks like If and Evil taken in isolation seem incomprehensible but taken as a part of the bombastic journey from superb Convinced Of The Hex to the eerie emptiness of Gemini Syringes they feel utterly essential. This is without doubt a bold statement in 2009, we've had plenty of talk of the album dying as an artistic medium, and to an extent it's true, but this has not stopped The Lips crafting a knowingly expansive and independent work. Even stand out single the endlessly vibrant Silver Trembling Hands is part of a musical journey and feels hollow taken out of it's intended context. The empty space on this album is also thrilling, their are long periods of intense instrumentation, where grooves are allow to build or fade away as they see fit, the result are tracks like The Ego's Last Stand that could never be released as singles but stands as true epic master-work, of atmosphere and mood. As a result the Lips have created if not their best album to date, their most definitive, an album that encapsulates the spirit, ambition and desire of one of alternative musics true trailblazers. This is their magnus opus, for once a double album in the spirit of The White Album that benefits from it's own indulgence that would only lose it's charm were it touched by the editors pen.

In pop music every so often a band will come around with a track so staggering, so beautiful and so powerful that it stops you dead in you're tracks. It may not quite be a JFK moment, you may not remember where you were when you first heard it, but when you first hear the gorgeous Two Months it will without doubt leave a timeless mark upon you. In a year where pop music started out on the right footing with Lily Allen, La Roux, Natasha Kahn and Florence Welsh striding into the pop charts only to be replaced by the old stalwarts of conservatism Simon Cowell and the X Factor, it was in fact and an album on the fringe, never meant for the mainstream that would produce pop's most beautiful and defining moment. Away from the wars between Joe McEverly and Rage Against The Machine, it was the outsiders not the insiders who were making the year's most infectious pop music. Grizzly Bear and Veckatimest captured the spirit of the 21st Century by making music whose beauty is matched only by it's creativity and intricacy, this album never courted the mainstream, yet it flourished and in Two Months and While You Wait For The Others created two most beautiful pop songs imaginable. It followed in the newly created tradition of Fleet Foxes in creating an album unashamed of it's own folk and baroque pop sentiments and yet channelled these influences into ethereal gorgeous pop music that is simply too infectious and too heart warming to be labelled alternative and is too successful to be considered underground or arty.

What is truly staggering about Veckatimest is it's internal contradiction, across the album we are treated to these lush richly arranged track like Fine For Now or Southern Point, where the arrangements are so vibrant so crammed full of flourishes, sweeps and crescendos that it almost feels over produced or burdened yet at the tracks core are these simple beautiful melodies and multi-part harmonies that even on first listen are so striking and immediate that they reach in and pluck (or should that be coo?) at your heart strings. It's amazing that these two factors manage to balance at all, their is so much going on, each arrangement is crammed full of buzzing, wurring, cooing and pulsating drums that you should be constantly distracted and overwhelmed, and yet you're not, you're attention is never drawn from the powerhouse vocal performances. Of course all this discussion of music seems fruitless, this truly is an album to be experienced, describing Foreground will never do justice to a track so richly textured, beautifully sung or cleverly arranged. While at times Veckatimest can feel laboured it never ceases to astound, and it's most astounding feat is it's accessibility, this is an album that's open to everyone, it has all the hallmarks of the avante guard but it's simply too infectious, too hummable and too inescapable, it hooks you on the first listen, it's harmonies are too well pitched to be resisted, it's music is too inspiring and too captivating, ultimately Veckatimest is just too damn good to be denied.

10. Bitte Orca - Dirty Projectors

(Domino 2009, Dave Longstreth)

Doves have to be this decade's unluckiest band; afterall no act has released as many sure fire hit singles as Doves, only to watch each and every one of their brilliant slices of pop poetry fail to make even the mildest imprints on the charts. Thankfully it's never seemed to get them down, they still push on, boldly producing an unbroken run of staggering albums despite the continued mainstream apathy. Doves simply aren't cool, I'm sure the Williams brothers were hardly surprised to see Kasabian, The Enemy, Oasis & Coldplay soaring to the top of the charts with their more simplistic brand of pop music but when The Seldom Seen Kid saw Elbow garner mainstream acceptance they must have given up the ghost. I mean how can Elbow be cool and Doves not be? Well whatever the reason it remains beyond my understanding as 2009's Kingdom Of Rust was a sublime series of infectious beautifully crafted pop tracks, that was not only subversive and inescapably infectious but also saw the Doves push the boundaries of their sound harder than ever before creating their most daring work to date. On the downbeat but addictive album opener Jetstream Doves experimented with slick electro beats with far greater success than anything Franz Ferdinand managed on Tonight, while on the refreshing urgent House Of Mirrors Doves managed more menace and bolsh than any Kasabain offering. Yet of course as is always the case it was the two singles Kingdom Of Rust and the spell binding Winter Hill that plucked at our collective heart strings and saw our jaws smacking harshly against the floor. So it would appear that world's continued loss is our gain as Doves continue to be one of this decades most consistently brilliant acts.

A Brief History Of Love almost took too long to arrive, I was bored of it before I'd even heard it, infact after hearing the staggering singles and leaks Dominos, Crystal Visions, Too Young To Love, At War With The Sun and of course the transcendent Velvet I'd effectively played the album to death before I'd even heard the albums final six tracks, I'd moved on, infact were it not for a kindly reminder from a certain Miss Allen's Twitter (I've got to mention her less) I wouldn't have even bought this album. Thankfully with some prodding from Lily I purchased A Brief History Of Love and haven't regretted that decision for a second. Those tracks that I'd long since abandoned grabbed me once more, when Crystal Visions first creeps and squelches through your speakers, your almost underwhelmed, another U2 & Eno influenced act *sigh*, and yet the track grows, becomes irresistible, suddenly it's as if Billy Corgan were fronting Ireland's finest; only that what the Big Pink had managed to create was somehow more epic than either of those Stadium sized superstars. By the time Too Young To Love winds its way onto the scene your already lost in the lush electronic grooves and thudding percussion, and as the track slithers with a Eastern glimmer you can almost imagine George Harrison smiling down from upon high with a tear in his eye. Surprisingly for an album layered with gorgeous grooves and walls of burbling electro noise it's the subtle and tender moments that are A Brief History...'s finest. The desolate desperation of the beautiful title track is powerfully affecting, and of course the album's true stand out and signature track Velvet still sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to admit I take a deep breathe every time that chilling first vocal emerges. The track has an unholy power it feels as though the spectres of a thousand lost loves are trapped in the ragged yet ethereal arrangement. While A Brief History Of Love could never match this level of emotional intensity across the other ten tracks, the Big Pink did manage to form one of the most powerful and most importantly fun debuts of this decade, well worth the wait.

Who would have thought back in 2000 when Nu-Metal seemed so thoroughly entrenched that by the end of the decade Progressive Metal of all thing would be cool? I mean it's been a rough old decade for Metal, it still seems like the whole genre is waiting for a giant kick up the arse, for the next Metallica to emerge, for Metal to have it's own Arctic Monkeys, but hell before it finds it's own Monkeys it'll need it's own version of the Strokes, but alas the world still waits. Thankfully while the mainstream has waved good bye to Metal, and Metal has waved good bye to Nu-Metal and Emo, a group of hard working, creative and most importantly hard rocking virtuosos have been blazing there own trail, France's Gojira showed that Death Metal was still relevant, and Dillenger Escape Plan and more importantly the brilliant Mastodon kept the good ship Prog sailing in the right direction. On Crack The Skye Mastodon seemed to have finally cracked it (sorry), combining a sense of the epic verging on OTT, with a respectful nods to metals past and a forward thinking creativity and technical wizardry to produce something that was as much food for thought as it was fuel for the world's mosh pits. The albums storming opener Oblivion reminded us of Ozzy Osborne's croon but the spiralling guitar work and the ability of the track to branch of from the beaten track set it in another galaxy all together from Sabbath. It was this ability to let tracks fly of the handle that made Crack The Skye an instant classic, Quintessance started with high pitched croons and subtly layer acoustic guitar work before exploding into an opened epic full of pummelling and full steam ahead bluster. The real trick to Mastodon's success was their ability to explore these gargantuan soundscapes creating mini metal operas without losing a central sense of urgency that tied together even the most pretentious elements of their work; this skill was best displayed in their three part epic and album centre piece The Czar a track that should sink under it's own pretensions but instead effortlessly soars above them (are you taking notes Coheed And Cambria?). All in all, Crack The Skye was a more complete, more artistic and down right more interesting album than either the excellent Leviathan or the then definitive Blood Mountain, a true triumph.

Toto were damn sure as hell not in Kansas anymore. That is the feeling I'm immediately struck by when I listen to Tarrot Sport it's a record that transports to instantly, like you've been beamed in Star Trek from your sturdy sleek utilitarian star ship to some ethereal plane. The landscape that surrounds you shimmers beautifully it almost blinds you as it's glow resonates around you, yet there's a constant threat and encroaching thud of precussion before your blinded and deafened by the scorching all encompassing noise. It all sounds like over the top hyperbole but there is a certain near religious experience to Tarrot Sport, as the Fuck Buttons explore sound, exchanging their trademark yelps and scratchiness for the almost heavenly neon glare of the synathizer they have forged a truly illuminating album. There is no other word for it, Tarrot Sport is hard to define upon traditional lines, and I've never proclaimed to be a great expert in the avante garde but their is such sheer beauty in this work that the one clear image in my mind is light. A sharp definite light a blinding glimmer, that may cause you to shield your eyes but in that brief second in which it catches you, you see everything albeit fleetingly in a different way, it's a perception of sound of image that you may never uncover again, and it's remarkably rewarding. Tarrot Sport has a similar effect to My Bloody Valentine's Loveless it's an album of undoubted beauty but you never really feel like listening to it twice, it's a moment in time, it's like a great piece of abstract art you see it, you perceive it, and you react to it. Many will find Tarrot Sport perplexing, abrasive and even hideous but that is the power of the work, when you surrounded you self in the monotonous shimmer of Space Mountain you will either reach your own emotional response or it will disgust you. In that sense Tarrot Sport suffers from over analysis, it's not an album to be discussed, you must simple experience it and react, the potential reward is more than worth the minimal risk of disappointment.

An important reminder to all those young bands out there who struggled with their début offering; the mighty Radiohead's first offering was not the earth shattering The Bends it was in fact the generic and flaccid Pablo Honey. The Horrors were obviously well aware of this fact, as after the near disaster of the painfully indebted and tragically underwhelming Strange House they collected themselves and set about evolving as musicians, because after all no matter how perfect you may look not all bands can arrive fully formed some get better with age. Luckily when The Horrors sophmore effort was released in 2009 the world still thought of them kindly and they were more than happily to fulfil all that they had previously promised. Everything about Primary Colours felt better, more considered and more often than not brilliant. Even the album artwork carried the air of the iconic. Bringing in Portishead's Geoff Barrow on production was clearly a shrewd move as Primary Colours sounds like a million bucks, it's slick, it's sharp but it's still as the dirty sicky garage groove that made the Horrors so captivating in the first place. The Horrors have clearly decided to trade in the shock rock of Birthday Party meets The Misfits and Television sound for the wonders of shoegaze. The results are surprisingly thrilling, as the album now becomes full of swirling hazy noise, on Three Decades it almost treds too close a pastiche were it not for Faris dazzling vocal performance, his voice is now less cartoonish, more fragile and surprisingly endearing, and unlike the My Bloody Valentine and Spaceman 3 The Horrors firmly have their feet on the pop pedal. Faris wheels off one gorgeous ghostly hook after another and it's hard to think of a more perfect pop song than Who Can Say in 2009, and could it have come from a more unlikely source? This combination of a soothing and addictive lyrical tongue with eternally intriguing musical arrangements is a clear winner. The Horrors show just how far they have come with the closing epic Sea Within A Sea a true musical journey that shows an continued evolution of sound that seemed beyond the Horrors just two years ago. They may still wear their influences on their sleeves but when you're making music this good who cares? NME may have got a little carried away but this album deserves all the praise that's been bestode upon it, after the heavy critical backlash the Horrors have more than earned it.

I've always been sceptical of Royksopp, they are so beloved, so well received that a part of me always wanted to dislike them, inspite of their brilliant production work, but the sheer strength in depth of Junior was impossible to deny. I found myself instantly grabbed by the spacious Royksopp Forever which despite it's horrible title is a thing of sheer beauty with a string arrangement so well judged it brings a wonderful tranquillity to a sparse and subversive beat which grows in menace as each effect is stacked creating a gorgeous piece of electro opera. Yet this stand out does not define the rest of the album, Junior sees Royksopp combining their talents, bring both the downbeat and spacious to the table and blending with their radio friendly near saccharin pop. The new middle ground sound surprisingly thrills smoothing the extreme edges of their previous sounds and creating a far less grating product. The album was of course highlighted by the three big singles the Robyn assisted The Girl & The Robot, the sugary Happy Up Here, and the staggering This Must Be It. But despite the clear highlights it's that rarest of quantities: consistency that makes Junior truly stand out.

It's been over ten years since Raekwon's staggering debut Only Built 4 Cuban Linx but in 2009 I'm sure many hip hop fans and critics alike where asking themselves did we really care about Raekwon anymore? Did the world need a squeal to one the '90s defining albums? Surely this was just a cheap cash in to boost an artist whose critical credibility was on the downslide, and most importantly would kids listening to Lil'Wayne, Jay Z and Kanye still be thrilled by Raekwon? Of course now looking back at the end of the year these questions seemed foolish, ...Cuban Linx Part II was a more than worthy successor, while it couldn't surpass it's predecessor it served as the perfect next chapter to one of hip hop's great narratives. This time rather than running from the mafiaso crime game Part II saw Raekwon and Wu Tang exploring every aspect of gang life, from cooking crack to executing rivals and running from the cops. While the album seemed to lack the clear moral tone of it's predecessor, it maintains the cinematic epic feel with it's slick beats and cleverly arranged skits, while the narrative is less coherent it is nevertheless compelling and the albums scope is unparalleled in contemporary hip hop. Yet at it's heart the albums greatest strength is it's knowingly old school sound, after all this isn't a set of retrospective newcomers, this is the former kings of the game, reminding us they may not be rocking to electro squelch or dub step but they don't need to worry about sounding contemporary or cutting edge because in today's market Wu Tang's finest has never sounded fresher or more epic.

2009 was a promising year for electro fans, we were all anticipating the big releases from Royksopp and Vitalic but few would have been aware of Fever Ray, the debut album from a new act that wasn't all that new at all. After crafting some of the decades most beautiful, danceable and oft challenging music no one should have underestimated Karin Dreijer Andersson. As one half of The Knife she had achieved legendary status and the unrelenting adoration of the worlds critics, but it had been three years since The Knife's staggering Silent Shout how was she to follow such a creative peak? Well in effortless fashion it would seem; Fever Ray shares many similarities with the Knife it's textures remain steely, harsh and almost alien and of course they still come together beautiful but Fever Ray felt more relaxed, more spacious, more patient and perhaps more human. It was filled with charm rather than steely cool, When I Grow Up and Dry And Dusty felt remarkably fragile and tender despite the ping pong bass effects and starry arrangement, at their core these tracks were loveable and tender, highlighted by the fragile and strained vocals. It was as if the strangeness and inaccessibility of The Knife had being ripped away revealing a loveable often comical heart (trust me it's there buried under the ice cool beats) and best displayed on the wondrous Seven as Karin strains "We Talk About Love, We Talk About Dishwater Tablets, And We Dream About Heaven" it's not exactly Lily Allen but it's undeniably earnest and touching. Fever Ray may have been a little more downbeat and perhaps a little less thrilling but what it lack in punch it gained it atmosphere and emotional resonance.

There are few sounds in this world sexier than Karen O's ice cool croon, and when Zero was unleashed upon the world at the end of 2008 it seemed Karen had found the perfect vessel for her irresistible tongue as Nick Zimmer supplied the most divine of crunching riffs and soaring synths. Of course little did we know then that just a few months down the line the unholy dance floor beast Heads Will Roll was laying in wait. The grooves were irresistible, it's as if the Yeah Yeah Yeahs had created a direct link to the nations hips and they were commanding us to dance our collective arses off. So within two tracks the Yeah Yeah Yeahs have successfully grooved us into oblivion what could possibly follow that act? Well with Shock Shock they simply wowed us, Karen's vocal performance was impeccable and the track grows in stature as the band let it burble and develop until it becomes an understated yet sprawling epic, powerful and truly touching, a remarkable feat for a track that's starts of so sweet and so disarming. It's at this point that you realize that you no longer miss Zimmer's trademark guitar, the synths and the carefully crafted arrangements are far more engrossing. It's amazing that a band that made it's name with it's feral rage would reach their artistic high water mark when tamed. In taming their sound the Yeah Yeah Yeahs have stumbled across true brilliance, when Karen O unleashes herself in the music and loses the plot mid stream the contrast between the slick and the uncontrollable is exhilarating even on a track as polished as Dull Life. Yet when thinking back to It's Blitz! now the truly memorable moments are it's sprawling ballads Skeltons and the heart breaking Runaway, the later while unable to match the epic pop punch of Maps miraculously manages to up the emotional ante creating the YYYs most affecting and powerful track to date.

When ever I assemble these list I've always been accused of making some real head scratching decisions (Hit Me Baby, Kala and The Soft Bulletin spring to mind) but it almost always stems from my desire to put smiles on people's faces or more specifically to have a smile put on my face by music. So I'll always elevate the status of feel good music, and while the idea of putting Guns Don't Kill People Lazers Do above Fever Ray seems bizarre in hindsight it's wholy justified. While the quality undoubtedly lies with the latter it's simply no where near as much fun as Major Lazer, and that is the key to this record; fun. When two of the world's best deejays and producers Diplo and Switch combined forces to produce an album, everyone was more than a little excited, and of course we were all more than a little deflated when we heard they'd be creating a dancehall record? I mean seriously could there be a less credible genre? Well what we should have known then and what we all recognize now is that Diplo and Switch never fail, and by creating Major Lazer and redefining the dancehall sound they created one of the year's most fun and frivalous records. Instantly accessible from the first listen Guns Don't Kill People... boasted the slickest beats and the smoothest production and a unparrelled feel good factor, every track carried it's own unique charm and it's own signature groove whether it be the down tuned bass of Lazer Theme or the looped Santigold vocal on the excellent Hold The Line. The whole album was buzzing with an insatiable energy characterised by a conveyor belt of guest stars who were doing anything but going through the motions. Ultimately how could I possibly deny an album that had the sickest beats in town, now enough talking lets drop Pon de Floor and have a dance shall we? Just try and resist.