While perhaps not a vintage, 2017 was certainly an interesting and entertaining year in the world of videogames. A clutch of fresh ideas, combined with a few beautifully crafted sequels and franchise follow-ups made sure the quality still floated to the surface of a genre that was, at times, saturated with distracting titles.
2017 was the year I began to feel my age. It started with mild fatigue and soon progressed to general world-weariness. I wasn't the only one feeling worn-out. This year everyone seemed tired and angsty. From Brexit to Harvey Weinstein, hardly a week went by without some section of society becoming upset. The world was in dire need of some old-fashioned peace, love and understanding. I got my dose from Yusuf's The Laughing Apple.
I first heard the songs at the album's launch party in London where Yusuf was playing live. On the walls were a selection of photos from the Cat Stevens days, showing the singer looking handsome and freewheeling. The man in front of us, by contrast, looked calm and wise. And yet, as soon as he struck the opening chords of "See What Love Did to Me", that old wild-eyed optimism started to shine through
The Laughing Apple was a deliberate attempt to recreate the feel of the Tea for the Tillerman era. It was made up of three new songs and eight re-interpretations of forgotten tracks from the Sixties and Seventies, all infused with childlike wonder and avuncular wisdom. Three songs, in particular, stood out: "See What Love Did to Me" was full of warmth and thoughtfulness. "Got a Thing About Seeing My Grandson Grow Old" oozed empathy and emotion. My favourite was "You Can Do (Whatever!)". It made me feel like I was fifteen, again, full of plans and schemes.
There were many other fine albums I could have chosen as my album of the year. St Vincent's Masseduction, for instance, or Laura Marling's Semper Femina. But, ultimately, the former was a little too hipster and the latter, a tad too earnest. Both were also very 2017. The Laughing Apple, on the other hand, felt timeless. It rose above the here and now and spoke with existential force. The result was a genuinely restorative experience.
Two More Essential Albums from 2017
St Vincent - Masseduction
Laura Marling - Semper Femina
Gigs of the Year
Nick Cave at the O2
Track of the Year
Kindling (Fickle Flame) - Elbow ft John Grant
Overleaf: Yusuf's video for "See What Love Did to Me"
“Passion! You gotta have passion!” I still feel the full force of Tricky’s conviction, as I was filming him in 1997, for my film Naked and Famous. He’s right: music works better than words when expressing the deepest emotions.
At two minutes and 39 seconds, Music For People in Trouble’s “Good Luck Bad Luck” executes an abrupt shift. An examination of whether a liaison would end up as “an empty cup” suddenly stops and the sound of a smoky jazz combo takes over with a melody bearing no relation to what preceded it. The composition unexpectedly passes into entirely different territory after Norway's Susanne Sundfør had been singing to her piano accompaniment, .
“Good Luck Bad Luck” was, in part, inspired by Elizabeth Strout’s short story The Piano Player and the music forming the surprising coda conceptualises what might have been heard in the bar in which the story’s protagonist plays the piano.
Similarly, the album’s “The Sound of War” comes in two parts: the first a sparse disquisition in which Sundfør finger-picks an acoustic guitar; the second a lengthy marriage of shape-shifting electronica and a wordless vocal with a sepulchral melody signifying the sound of war itself.
Music For People in Trouble is a collection of songs but goes further by soundtracking the content of the songs themselves. Sundfør’s fifth album is a twin-track experience asking the listener to pay attention to the mood and substance of each song. On one hand, it is about her startling, malleable voice, the gorgeous melodies and the words sung. On the other, it is about what frames these songs: a manifestation of the experiences which have helped create them.
What's drawn from is a period of travel throughout the globe’s edgiest regions. As well as this commentary on the state of the world. personal relations are pivotal too. The profoundly haunting album closer “Mountaineers” examines environmental disaster while the subject matter of “No One Believes in Love Anymore” is explicit.
Though certainly a work of art, Music For People in Trouble is wonderfully approachable. At its heart, the album is about beautiful, heart-rending melodies. The Gram Parsons-influenced ballad “Undercover” is pop at its most eloquent.
Two More Essential Albums from 2017
Foxygen - Hang
Sumie - Lost in Light
Gigs of the Year
Žen, Kultuuriklubi Kelm, Tallinn, 1 April; Susanne Sundfør, Norwegian Wood festival, Oslo, 15 June; Mercury Rev & The Royal Northern Sinfonia, Barbican, 14 July; Karpov Not Kasparov, Kablys, Vilnius, 8 September
Track of the Year
Mammút – “Breathe Into Me”
Overleaf: watch Susanne Sundfør perform “Undercover”
2017 has been a time of change if not turmoil, on both personal and political stratospheres. So the music of two sisters whose jam is made up primarily of protest and healing songs, is the perfect antidote.
I’ve long thought there should be an arts website called ‘On Second Thoughts’ where critics post their reconsidered opinions of albums, books, films or whatever, once they’ve been properly digested. After all, it’s often the case that either first-love euphoria turns to over-exposure ennui or vague curiosity grows into lasting admiration.
A regular reviewing gig inevitably opens the ears to lots of “stuff”, what with the CDs (and downloads, so irritating to review from) dispatched by hopeful PRs and Spotify (great for browsing, crap for artists) offering the opportunity to dip in and out of music you might otherwise miss (and much you could live without). 2017 was not without its ear-catching moments.
For the past few years my Album of the Year has leapt out at me, craved attention, stood out from the competition. With no disrespect to Nick Mulvey’s fine second album, that wasn’t the case in 2017. Many albums this year had vital, enjoyable music, but marred by much lesser songs.
In March, Bristol’s Idles drove up and down the country, leaving painfully small quantities of their debut album Brutalism in each independent record shop they went into. The lucky among us who managed to get a first-pressing copy of the beautifully packaged LP felt a part of something small and exciting, something important on the verge of blowing up. Now, lauded by the music press and owners of their own Wikipedia page, it’s fair to say that Idles have well and truly conquered 2017.
Disc of the Day reviews new albums, week in, week out, all year. Below are the albums to which our writers awarded five stars. Click on any one of them to find out why.
SIMPLY THE BEST: THEARTSDESK'S FIVE-STAR REVIEWS OF 2017
Alan Broadbent: Developing Story ★★★★★ The pianist's orchestral magnum opus is packed with extraordinary things