So, I'm only halfway through the year of 2008 in Gregorian calendar terms, but it certainly feels like a lot more things have happened to me in these last six months than maybe the last few years. Noteworthy life passages that have had their cherries popped include one letter of resignation, two illicit overseas sojourns and three Gay Pride events, not to mention my first ever night spent in the sweaty stalls of a live music concert and my first ever credit card. Rather tragically, at the same time it has been a year of rude awakenings, relating to matters a helluva lot more universal than my personal life and my first credit card bill ("Page 1 of 2(!!!)"). Between the meteorological, geological and political upheavals our world seems to continually pummel itself with via our own collective selfishness and ignorance; I personally couldn't be more grateful for so much gorgeous music to be floating around in the ether right now.

And through it all, last.fm has been there to see me through a heady six months of new music from impressive ingénues and established soundscapers, coming up with all kinds of sonic delights that, without the recommendations from last.fm and my friends on this less-than-evil social networking site (unlike Facebook... so evil!!!), I wouldn't dare listen to otherwise. Big ups to Omissi0n too, for making sure that access to all of these treats was never less than facile with regards to my badass computer! And with that, here is my attempt at condensing the greatest musical months of my web-life into a wordy journal entry. (Though please bear in mind, I have a horrible habit of mentioning Björk in every journal, so let's just get this out of the way!)

It¹s a web journal!! It¹s allowed to be hideously over-indulgent!!!


POP! Goes My Credibility!!
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It's not so much that pop music has slowly but surely been dying a death with regards to media/consumer interest, rather that the pop music has been subsumed with so many sub-genres that it is honestly difficult to categorize what is pop and what isn't anymore. What we can be sure of though is that pop music today seems to constitute of watered down, anemic tracks that often veer the wrong side of platitude with the aid of various stylish production tweaks, hooks, distortions and bombast. Admittedly, some truly remarkable musicians can often be found operating behind the decks of these projects front-lined by otherwise attractive ciphers and that, as cynical production/songwriting showcases, they offer their own contradictory comments on the world of pop in general (Britney Spears' Blackout being the most recent and fascinating example).

However, more often than not, lightning fails to strike quite so indelibly for others following the same sonic flight plans... This can be forgiven (to an extortionately generous extent) from debut artists such as Adele, Duffy and Gabriella Cilmi, who in vain tribute to Amy Winehouse and vainer attempts to recreate her success have plundered the retro-soul market to diminishing effect. Even pop's most respected matrons, Kylie Minogue and Madonna herself, have fallen short of expectations with regards to record sales in a bid to emulate the likes of Gwen Stefani (one asks why??) and Madge's one-time protégé, Britters. Minogue's failure remains a financial one, seeing as X is still a finer-than-most pop gem, even if it remains a little on the formal side compared to today's edgier fare, but Madonna really outdoes herself here with regards to her previous career clangers.

Armed with the knowledge that Hard Candy is Madonna's last album of original material in her deal with Warner Bros. Records, the whiff of contractual obligation is undeniable. Though laden with the requisite production flourishes her collaborators have milked dry over the good part of the last decade and unmistakably catchy arrangements, Madonna's mere presence ensures that nothing is ever truly felt and some results are shockingly inane. 4 Minutes (Featuring Justin Timberlake), the "heavily anticipated" (by whom??) collaboration, is little more than a half-hearted dance anthem that falls shockingly low of its two formidable stars' reputations. Being a blah collaboration wherein the sparks fail to fly, it couldn't be a better trailer for the rest of the album.

The reason this album has polarized a lot of Madonna fans lies simply in the fact that Madonna used to utilize cutting-edge dance trends and sub-genres to help give her music a "step-ahead" edge away from her desperate constituents rather than lazily tap Timbaland and Justin Timberlake for beats and signatures that could be copied and pasted onto any single hip-pop princess. So, could it be time for another pop marvel from the '80s to usurp Madonna's influence...? If Cyndi Lauper's Bring Ya To The Brink is anything to go by, and given that Euro-inflected dance-pop is enjoying something of a resurgence these days, it's not only feasible but entirely legitimate.

Compared to Pharrell and Kanye West's trying to urbanize Madonna (don't chuckle!), Lauper's team on Brink includes the likes of Basement Jaxx, Dragonette and Kleerup to not only help amp her up back to the camp ferocity of her earlier successes but also let her crowbar herself back into the modern dance community. Tracks like Same Ol' Story and Grab A Hold are rollicking dance anthems waiting to be discovered, whilst Rocking Chair (a surprisingly laidback contribution from the Jaxx) and Into the Nightlife swoon handsomely, all held together by Lauper, ribald as ever. Unlike Madonna, Lauper's tenacity and resonance isn't lost in the melée either, the core difference between Brink and Hard Candy (and Confessions On A Dancefloor, which bears closer resemblance to Cyndi's work here) being that the focal point of the album believes every word that she's singing... it's something that the pop world is finding hard to procure these days.

One album that actually has more than one idiosyncratic female voice permeating through it is producer Kleerup's eponymous debut, though his song with Cyndi isn't featured (Scandie pop thrushes only, if the tracklist is anything to go by!) Rising to international prominence via the justly revered hit single With Every Heartbeat alongside pop minx Robyn, fans of that song will be pleased to know that his signature sound is present but that we are also allowed different combinations of this musical rubix cube. Peppering the indelible house beats and undeniable keyboard sequences are performances from some of the more attitude-filled popstrels of today, the best being the track Forever's more-than-welcome appearance from Neneh Cherry. It's teary-voiced disco balladry done right, with the man himself contributing a heartfelt parting shot on Thank You For Nothing...

Of course, no mention of disco balladry could be complete without a reference to one of the more music press-galvanizingly exciting projects to release an album this year, this being Hercules and Love Affair. The result of mastermind New York DJ Andy Butler, this collective did well to bring the darker underground disco anthems of the early 1980s back to popular consciousness, all slithery sensuality and heartbroken menace seeping from every track like cocaine dribbling out of a drug fiend's nose. Though the album doesn't boast a single weak track (Athene and This Is My Love in particular are the stuff of tainted disco dreams) it is the tracks featuring Antony Hegarty (he of The Johnsons) that punch through with an irresistible emotional power. Time Will benefits greatly with his archaic voice layered over itself as it slow burns through a typically heartbreaking trajectory but Blind presents the collective at its most sublime; a seven-minute calling card of conga drums, heavy bass and fabulous brass. It's perversely charming and testament to his gifts that Mr. Hegarty can still summon up a wealth of emotional responses nestled within one of the best dance-beat signatures of the year, don't you think?

The only other singer that could honestly rival Hegarty for such rapt delivery has to be Gamine singer/songwriter Camille, who released her English debut album, Music Hole, this year. Picking up where Björk's acapella-inspired Medúlla left off, Camille works with a palette almost entirely made up of the human voice, and echoes that albums sentiments in that most of the songs concern themselves with singing in general or are simply a series of abstract moans and groans. This isn't to say that Hole is just gauche nonsense though... Gospel With No Lord in particular conveys Camille's soulful nature, vividly evoking the spiritual release that harping at the top of your lungs provides. Meanwhile, Money Note is honestly one of the funniest songs to turn up in a long while, lampooning over-produced diva warbling yet still featuring the singer doggedly completing her quest to "beat Mariah"; I can't be certain if she technically does, but her pastiche in the middle eight is genius! And there are melancholy lulls to be lost inside of, best amongst them being her near-mythic The Monk, only to be followed by adorably weird whimsy in Cats & Dogs. Yet, Camille's voice wrestles all of these elements into harmony via one of the most expressive and raptly emotional new voices to burst into pop music for this decade. One can't help but feel that, if she wanted to, she could really hit it big...

Thus concludes Part One of my Best Of, but not without a mention for Martina Topley-Bird, who is still summoning up some sweet tunes... For Part Two, expect an alternative whitewash!

xxx