As much fun as it is to write (and Tweet about) the best albums of the year, I'm sure every artist on our year-end list would trade that distinction for a spot on a handful of our readers' lists of "Albums from 2009 that I'm still listening to in 2010, 2012, and 2025."
Pat Moriarity
Pat Moriarity
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What I've always found more revealing—and definitive—than a person's favorite records of the year is what they're actually still listening to. Sure, Neko Case's Middle Cyclone and Fresh Espresso's Glamour aren't on our year-end list this season. But the true test of any album's worth is how history receives it. With that in mind, here's a look at bands, albums, and songs a few of our contributors kept in high rotation this year, whether they were released in 2009 or not. —Chris Kornelis
Chris KornelisMusic editor
Cave Singers,"Beach House" (2009). This song from Welcome Joy is a lesson in patience and restraint. The Cave Singers layer it on, starting with the rhythmic lead of the guitar, then a few drums, a verse, more percussion, and a chorus. Then they repeat this layering and building, each time introducing you to another understated piece of this opus.
Laura Veirs, July Flame (out Jan. 12, 2010). This effortless record is stunning on all fronts, as much an alt-country record as it is a pop/singer-songwriter vehicle of the highest caliber. July Flame is as much a triumph for Veirs as it is for My Morning Jacket's Jim James, a welcome addition on several tracks. We're accustomed to James being the loudest voice in the room. We're not used to him being accessorized so tastefully.
David Byrne and Brian Eno, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today (2008). I have a hard time taking David Byrne seriously. He could sing about butchering fowl and I'd still feel as if I were in on some colossal joke. Don't ask me why, but "Strange Overtones" and the lyrics "Put on your socks and mittens/It's getting colder tonight" begs me to do just the opposite. It's a goofy melody that could only be executed by someone with nothing left to prove. It's as good a reason as any to greet the morning with a little light between the sheets.
The Miles Davis Quintet, Steamin' (1961), Cookin' (1956), Relaxin' (1957), Workin' (1959). Over two days in 1956, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Philly Joe Jones, Red Garland, and Paul Chambers recorded four albums for Prestige Records, so that Davis could fulfill his contract and subsequently get out of it. What they accomplished was an assault on impossibility. The chemistry is perfect, the between-song banter insightful, and if there's ever a need to say "necessity is the root of innovation," there's proof right here.
Hannah LevinSW's "Rocket Queen" columnist and host of KEXP's "Audioasis" and "Seek and Destroy"
David Bazan, Curse Your Branches (2009). From the perspective of someone who's proud to be a theologian's daughter, but also endlessly vexed by the conflicts surrounding faith, Bazan's open-ended meditation on his personal struggles with the subject was as refreshing and profound as it was brave and addictively uplifting.
The Dutchess and the Duke,Sunset, Sunrise (2009). Conceived in part while frontman Jesse Lortz's son was gestating, and released while many parties in the band were enduring breakups and the deaths of loved ones, the most impressive thing about SS was that its authors not only bested their 2008 debut, but gave themselves a blueprint for survival. Sophomore success story of the year, hands down.
Visqueen, Message to Garcia (2009). The songs on Visqueen's third album took root during the many years that bandleader Rachel Flotard cared for her dying father, and came to bittersweet fruitition shortly after he left this mortal coil. Rarely do protracted obituaries sound this elegantly catchy.
Loveland, The Beautiful Truth (2009). The death of Loveland leader John Spalding in November 2008 was a particularly brutal blow for a widespread network of musicians in Seattle and beyond. That his peers so quickly raised the funds to release this album in early 2009 was a respectful and ambitious tribute that matched the lofty dreams Spalding explored in his songs.
Rodriguez, Coming From Reality (2009). An album that was originally the opening score for a promising romance in my life ended up also being the cue for its shocking and sudden end credits. However, instead of sounding tainted or melancholy, it now just sounds like a damn fine piece of surprisingly humorous, gorgeously rendered pop-folk psychedelia by a gifted, underappreciated artist. Transcending transference is often the hallmark of good art, apparently.
ZZ Top, the entire back catalog (yes, even Afterburner). My motto for surviving 2009 and making 2010 kick-ass: When all else fails, turn to Billy Gibbons.
Sara Brickner Clubs editor
Zoe Muth and the Lost High Rollers,Self-titled (2009). Zoe Muth's voice smacks of one of my all-time favorite country stars, Emmylou Harris. Her songwriting relies on traditional, time-tested country fare; there's an ageless quality to her songs that make her sound more like an obscure vintage artist whose music got swept up and buried in the sands of time than a Seattle-born songwriter in her late 20s.
Tea Cozies, Hot Probs (2009). The first Tea Cozies song I ever heard was "Corner Store Girls," a sunny song about adolescence that quickly became my summertime cruising jam. It reminded me of "Underwater Heartbeat" by Saturday Looks Good to Me, another of my favorite summer songs. Like a summer dress, these songs are so light and airy they might just float away. It's the Tea Cozies' darker, moodier stuff that sticks to the ribs, which is why the last track on Hot Probs, a haunting song about the apocalypse called "Behind the Glass Eye," soon replaced "Corner Store Girls" as my favorite song on the album. After months of repeated listens, it's become one of my favorite songs released by anyone in 2009.
