#7: Cold Beat – “Into the Air”

Cold Beat’s debut album, Over Me, was one of my favorites of last year, and the Hannah Lew project wasted no time following it up with Into the Air, which improves on the first by expanding and refining the group’s sound. While Over Me sometimes felt repetitive, every song on Into the Air feels different from the next, and the album tells a cohesive story as it progresses and the sounds change.

I get really geeky about album sequencing sometimes, and I got especially into the sequencing on Into the Air. The early songs on the album are more in line with what I expected after Over Me, with relatively straight-forward new-wave rock like “Broken Lines.” But about halfway through, the music starts to change, starting with “Cracks” which adds synths to the mix, and then the electronic instrumental “Clouds” that segues into the final part of the album, where “Spirals” and “Ashes” continue down that electronic path.

The way the album is sequenced, there is a feeling of ascending “Into the Air,” among the “Clouds,” and ending up in the ominously pretty blue sky portrayed on the album cover. This is reinforced by lyrical motifs about ashes and dust, like a wind is blowing you away into the sky. While ascending into the sky is typically considered positive, like going to heaven, on Into the Air the technology has an icy, creepy vibe to it that makes it more like OK Computer. “Cracks” in particular feels frantic and paranoid, and it’s the track that starts the upward ascension of the rest of the album.

I don’t know if the band intended any of what I just wrote, but part of what makes Into the Air so replayable — beyond the quality songwriting — is that Lew’s lyrics lend themselves to interpretation and don’t have a specific, obvious meaning. Yet there is still a story being told on the album, a sense that all the tracks are tied together and going down the same path. Where exactly that path goes is up to the listener to decide.

#8: Girlpool – “Before the World Was Big”

A cool part of music that I’ve overlooked is how it’s often about group collaboration, and the bonds that develop from working together to create something. When you hear a band’s song, it’s the result of people who (presumably) like each other working together to make music that they believe in. This would be very obvious if I’d ever been in a band, but as a listener I often don’t think about the actual work that goes into these songs, and instead just assume that they like… happen out of nowhere.

Girlpool’s debut album, Before the World Was Big, is what made me start thinking about this. The teen duo of Harmony Tividad and Cleo Tucker make incredibly simple music, with just guitar, bass, and interlocking vocals. Out of this simplicity comes great power, and there is a sense of deep friendship and connection between the two that is conveyed in the way they write and perform their songs. Before the World Was Big is the sound of two friends making music together in the most direct and honest way they know how.

The sound of Before the World was Big is simple, but its songs are full of nuance and ambiguity. It obviously is from the perspective of two young people, yet it never feels naive. The songs have a darkness running through them as the pair confront the real world and deal with already feeling kind of old while also not really being adults. I could see people saying the pair are “wise beyond their years,” but I actually think part of the album’s power is that they do sound their age — with all the anxieties and feelings that entails — and aren’t afraid to be achingly sincere about it.

Earlier this year, I compared Girlpool to The Shaggs, but they’re also likened to Marine Girls or (often derisively) Kimya Dawson and the Juno soundtrack. But while Girlpool are hardly the first band to come up with the “simple = good” idea, they are the first to be Harmony and Cleo, and it’s their unique point of view and connection with each other that makes this a great album.

#9: Tamaryn – “Cranekiss”

Tamaryn’s first two albums often had moments of genius (“Love Fade,” “Heavenly Bodies”), but sometimes could feel one-note. Her third album, Cranekiss, is a big step forward because it feels like a much more complete album and vision from the singer, who collaborated with Weekend’s Shaun Durkan to make a more pop-influenced record.

Which isn’t to say Cranekiss is pop, exactly. It takes Tamaryn’s established shoegaze sound and adds a layer of sheen and brightness to it, resulting in songs that are more danceable than her previous efforts and recall some of the more upbeat moments of Cocteau Twins. The layers of sound and additional percussion give Cranekiss a wintry, romantic feeling, which is reminiscent of other bands but still feels like its own.

What I’ve always liked about Tamaryn — and especially on this album — is that it’s shoegaze-style music that is built around the singer, who in other similar bands often takes a backseat to the noise. While Cranekiss has many musical upgrades, they’re all done in service to her vocals, which shine even more with the slightly new direction. Tamaryn’s wide range and natural tone lends itself to dramatic songs, and Cranekiss makes good use of that talent with its lush sound.