Two months ago, I wrote about The Antlers. In that post (which can be read here), I gushed about the song “Two.” Now I want to gush about the album Hospice. Especially now that I’ve had some time to digest it. But before I start, I must disclose something: I’m completely obsessed with Hospice. With a fair amount of confidence, I can say it will top my year-end list. I realize 2009 is only half over, but it’s that good. Here’s why.

Much like Blind Pilot’s 3 Rounds and a Sounds, Hospice is a complete album. As much as I love “Two,” the other nine songs on the album are just as good. “Kettering” sounds ethereal, “Sylvia” soars to ridiculous heights, and “Epilogue” features some of the most gorgeous vocals I’ve ever heard. With the exception of the opening track (which is ambient), there is no filler.

And much like Frightened Rabbit’s Midnight Organ Fight, Hospice has many layers. Most tracks reveal their beauty only after repeated listens. The album is packed with so much emotion it’s almost overwhelming. I can’t imagine the events or experiences that inspired some of these songs (nor do I want to). But while there is an abundance of sadness and heartbreak, the album also contains moments of inspiration and joy. In short, Hospice is a roller coaster of emotion.

Below I’ve posted my two favorite songs from Hospice (“Kettering” and “Two”), though it was difficult narrowing it down to only two. I’ve also included the title track from The Antler’s debut album Uprooted, which clearly hints at the band’s enormous potential. Potential that has been fully realized with Hospice.

• The Antlers – Kettering
• The Antlers – Two
• The Antlers – Uprooted

By the way, you can download the iTunes bonus tracks “Sylvia, An Introduction” and “Nothing Matters When We’re Dancing” for free here.

I am not a spontaneous writer. When I come up with an idea for an article, I usually spend several days (or even weeks) tweaking and polishing it before posting it on my site. The extra time helps me better organize and focus my thoughts.

I think this approach has worked out pretty well so far. When I look back on older posts, I’m usually pretty happy with what I read. I’m even happier to see that, for the most part, I still like (and listen to) the music I wrote about.

But tonight I am abandoning this approach. I discovered a song and I need to write about it. Now.

As I made the usual rounds on the internet this morning, I caught a feature on eMusic called “2009 Sleepers.” I noticed Hurray For the Riff Raff on the list so I decided to check out some of the other bands. One of them was The Antlers. After reading a few reviews of Hospice and listening to some clips, I jumped over to last.fm to see if I could stream some full tracks.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) there were only two full songs posted: “Bear” and “Two.” I listened to both tracks as I hung up some shirts in the other room. The sound was a little muffled, but through the wall I heard an incredibly beautiful and haunting melody. It was the song “Two.” I had to listen to it again, except this time give it my full attention.

During my second listen, I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to focus on: the slow, gorgeous build of the instrumentation or the heartbreaking lyrics. After nearly a dozen listens, I still don’t know what to focus on. It’s one of those songs that causes paralysis: when it comes on, I stop whatever it is I’m doing and just listen. It’s also one of those songs that ends way too soon (despite being almost 6 minutes long).

Ultimately, however, the words I write will fail to convey just how remarkable this song is. Maybe I should spend a few more days tweaking this post. Kidding of course. Just give the song a listen.

• The Antlers – Two

As I sit here thinking about the angle I want to take in writing about my latest obsession, a million thoughts race through my head. How do bands come up with their names? Can I finish this article in the next few days? What will I write about next? Have I run out of good ideas for my site? Will I eventually lose interest in music? Why am I never satisfied with the music I have?

I forgot to mention that when I’m stressed out, my mind refuses to shut off. It bounces randomly from thought to thought, unable to focus on anything. As a result, I worry a lot and accomplish very little. So if the previous paragraph hasn’t already given it away, I’m a little overwhelmed with life right now (which, coincidentally, explains the recent lack of activity on my site). But at least it has given me an angle: during stressful times, I rely on music more than ever. Especially relaxing music.

Luckily, a few weeks ago I stumbled upon Hurray For the Riff Raff, an amazing little band from New Orleans. Their debut album, It Don’t Mean I Don’t Love You, is the perfect escape from a stressful world. It sounds timeless – like what music from the south must’ve sounded like at the turn of the 20th century.

After listening to the gorgeous intro of “Daniella” for the first time, I knew I had found my next obsession. The song, which starts with a simple banjo riff and beautiful vocal harmony, melts away all my problems (at least for a few minutes). “Junebug Waltz,” another one of my favorites, plods along at a snail’s pace, reminding me of a hot, muggy summer afternoon.

Both songs are posted below for your enjoyment. If you like what you hear, I highly recommend purchasing the entire album – it’s fantastic. I’ll definitely have it on repeat over the next few weeks as school continues to bear down on me. With that said, I’ll try my best to post again relatively soon, but can’t promise anything.

• Hurray For the Riff Raff – Daniella
• Hurray For the Riff Raff – Junebug Waltz

Despite listening to an insane amount of music, I have yet to encounter the “perfect” album. To be clear, I define the “perfect” album as one containing absolutely no filler, sounding best when played in its entirety.

This honestly surprises me. With all the music I listen to, I thought there’d be at least one album in my collection that fits the bill. But no. Even my all-time favorites contain a few tracks I could live without. In 2008, Frightened Rabbit came pretty close with The Midnight Organ Fight. And in 2007, Menomena’s Friend and Foe flirted with perfection. But as good as these albums are, I still skip a few songs on each.

I’m starting to think I should lower my expectations. With the music industry fully embracing the internet, focus has shifted from albums to singles. Pretty soon, I envision some musicians abandoning the album format altogether. After all, if most people download only one or two tracks, why waste time and money recording the entire album?

Maybe I shouldn’t be so cynical. Every now and then I stumble upon an album or band that renews my faith in the music business. This time it’s 3 Rounds and a Sound, the stellar debut album from Blind Pilot, a tiny band from Portland, Oregon that apparently only tours via bicycle.

Musically speaking, 3 Rounds and a Sound breaks little new ground. I’d describe the album as a straightforward mix of rock, pop, and folk. But what it lacks in complexity it makes up for with raw emotion, beauty, and catchiness. Further proof that the best music is simple and direct.

And while 3 Rounds and a Sound still isn’t perfect, it’s damn close. I can’t remember the last time I heard such a confident, effortless debut. Maybe Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago. Anyways, I’ve posted two tracks from the album below: “Oviedo” (the opener) and “3 Rounds and a Sound” (the closer). Pick up the rest of the album to find out what happens in between. You won’t be disappointed.

• Blind Pilot – Oviedo
• Blind Pilot – 3 Rounds and a Sound

PS – I want “3 Rounds and a Sound” played at my wedding, along with Beirut’s “Postcards From Italy.” So romantic.

So I have a theory that there are two basic responses to breaking up with someone: sadness or anger. The first reaction produces the kind of music I normally listen to – sorrowful, introspective stuff – while the second produces punk music.

And I support this theory with the following observation. I’ve never really warmed to punk music. The reason for this is simple: I’m a moper. My response to most situations (including break-ups) is sadness. I rarely get mad – unless I happen to be driving. As a result, I have a hard time identifying with angry, bitter music.

Or so I thought. A few years ago I stumbled upon Deja Entendu by Brand New. While I remember cringing at some of the louder, heavier tracks (especially the ones with screaming), I really enjoyed the album’s slower songs. Especially “The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot” and “Play Crack the Sky.”

But lately I’ve been warming to the entire album (including the screaming). It’s just too good – amazing hooks, epic riffs, and heartbreaking lyrics abound. It took a few years, but I’ve finally come to appreciate both the quiet and loud moments of Deja Entendu.

The song posted below isn’t necessarily my favorite track from the album, but it features the band sounding both quiet and loud. There’s even some screaming!

Note: For those of you worried about the direction of my blog, rest assured. At my core, I’m still a moper (and always will be). But every now and then I feel like screaming and rocking out.

• Brand New – Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving! And now that it’s the day after, it’s officially acceptable to talk about Christmas. So here it goes…

Apparently, it’s a tradition for musicians in the UK to pump out cheesy Christmas songs right before the holiday. The ridiculously-sappy Christmas movie Love Actually confirms this: part of the story revolves around a burned-out musician competing with a popular boy band for the top Christmas song. You can probably guess who grabs the No. 1 spot.

This tradition was further confirmed by the guys in Frightened Rabbit. Before their show at Bottom of the Hill a few weeks ago, I asked them about their Christmas song (“It’s Christmas So We’ll Stop”) and how it came to be. They joked about how they were just following tradition when they released it last Christmas.

If their song is a joke, it isn’t very funny – in fact, it’s actually a little depressing. On second thought, cynical might a better word to describe it. The song talks about how people are nice to each other only around Christmas time.

Like all good Frightened Rabbit songs, “It’s Christmas So We’ll Stop” uses seemingly disjointed thoughts and images to convey a simple, yet powerful story or idea. When you add in a gorgeous melody that grabs you and refuses to let go, it’s easy to see why this is the greatest Christmas song ever.

• Frightened Rabbit – It’s Christmas So We’ll Stop

For the second greatest Christmas song ever, I highly recommend “Sister Winter” by Sufjan Stevens, which I wrote about last year. The original article can be found here.

After five months of constantly listening to Frightened Rabbit’s Midnight Organ Fight, I still find myself untangling its contradictions and unraveling its many layers. Which is quite amazing considering my hyperactive listening habits.

I’ve finally figured out why I like the album so much: it is, more or less, the soundtrack to my life. It simultaneously encompasses the good times and the bad, the highs and lows. Despite this contradiction, or maybe because of it, Midnight Organ Fight always inspires. It’s a strange phenomenon: the louder I play it, the better I feel.

Like most great albums, Midnight Organ Fight reveals itself in layers. It took nearly a dozen listens before I could distinguish individual songs. Had I written this review back then, my favorite tracks probably would’ve been “Good Arms vs. Bad Arms” and “Poke.” Now I can’t decide. My favorite songs seem to change every time I listen to the album.

Frightened Rabbit hails from Scotland, a fact immediately confirmed by Scott Hutchison’s vocals. Thankfully, his accent is noticeable but not overwhelming. In fact, it often adds an extra dimension to the music. I love the way he stretches out random words and phrases. At times, his voice nearly buckles under the weight of emotion.

The lyrics inhabit the gray area between breaking up and getting back together (which helps explain all the contradiction). On “The Twist” Hutchison sings, “It’s the night, I can be who you like / And I’ll quietly leave before it gets light.” Later, he asserts, “I need company / I need human heat.” But then on “Keep Yourself Warm” he belts out, “It takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm.” So which is it? Anyone who’s ever inhabited this gray area knows it’s actually both.

Last but certainly not least is the music. The wailing guitars in “Good Arms vs. Bad Arms,” the hypnotic piano melody at the end of “The Twist,” the slow steady build in “Backwards Walk,” and the simpleness of “Poke.” It’s overwhelming at first, but with repeated listens the layers start peeling apart. Soon, you will find yourself coming back for even more of exactly the same.

• Frightened Rabbit – The Twist
• Frightened Rabbit – Backwards Walk

Download three more Frightened Rabbit songs for free here. I highly recommend “The Modern Leper” and “Head Rolls Off.”

I’m a total sucker for epic (7+ minute) album closers. Actually, you might even say I’m a sucker for epic songs in general. Not, however, extended “stoner” jam sessions where every instrument under the sun gets its own two-minute solo. You know what I’m talking about.

There’s definitely a fine line: some songs need more time to evolve and expand while others just sound bloated and self-indulgent. Songs that fall into the former category include “Cortez the Killer” by Neil Young, “The Trapeze Swinger” by Iron & Wine, “Duk Koo Kim” by Sun Kil Moon, “Mogwai Fear Satan” by Mogwai (obviously), “Oh Comely” by Neutral Milk Hotel, “Desolation Row” by Bob Dylan, and, why not, “Stairway to Heaven” by Led Zeppelin. Just to name a few.

So how do you make an epic song even better? Put it at the end of an album. For example: My Morning Jacket’s “Strangulation!” and “Dondante,” Built to Spill’s “Broken Chairs,” and Gillian Welch’s “I Dream a Highway.”

You can add “All of My Trains” by Robert Francis to this list. Like Deer Tick, Francis is an insanely-talented young singer-songwriter (albeit with slightly less buzz). Hailing from Los Angeles, he sounds nothing like his surroundings. Actually, he doesn’t even sound like he’s from this century.

His music exudes both innocence and angst, hope and despair. His debut One By One is an earnest, introspective, timeless folk record that will undoubtedly be cherished by those lucky enough to stumble upon it.

• Robert Francis – All of My Trains

Let me start by saying that I can’t believe I haven’t posted on these guys yet. I’ve been listening to them almost continuously for the past 3 months. I honestly don’t know what happened.

Horse Feathers is two-man band from Portland, Oregon. Their music reminds me a lot of my (brief) visit to the city last summer: serenely beautiful, yet overcast and dreary most of the time. These are rainy day songs through and through.

Intense string pieces and delicate acoustic melodies create an interesting juxtaposition. The resulting music sounds passionately resigned. Lyrics like “It’s in our blood to watch each day go by” reinforce this feeling (and also resonate with me at this particular moment in my life).

Their debut album Words Are Dead, released back in 2006, hasn’t gotten much attention, which I can’t quite understand. It’s a remarkably solid release; I always listen to the album in its entirety. If I had to pick a favorite song, I’d ask for permission to choose several, it’s that good.

If you enjoy the two tracks posted below, I highly recommend checking out the entire album. You won’t be disappointed.

• Horse Feathers – In Our Blood
• Horse Feathers – Like Lavender

Ryan Adams has always taken a beating from the press: he releases too many albums, he always changes his style, he is wildly inconsistent, etc. And while this may be irritating from the standpoint that it takes more effort to wade through his catalog, it makes finding those hidden gems much more special.

The song posted below is a prime example. Perhaps the best track on Gold, “When the Stars Go Blue” was unfortunately heard by most people in the wrong context: a disgustingly-inadequate live cover by The Corrs and Bono.

Now everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion, but Ryan Adams’ vocals on the original are mind-blowing. No one can do them justice, especially not Bono. And while “When the Stars Go Blue” may cast a giant shadow over the rest of Gold, I’m okay with that. The song is just that damn good.

• Ryan Adams – When the Stars Go Blue