A Best Of 2023 - The Top Ten

Or, the nine albums not quite as good as 'The Ballad Of Darren'

Across the decade and a half that I’ve been publishing my end of year lists, there have been numerous occasions when readers have been surprised by the top choices. This has either been because they’d assumed something would be top and it wasn’t, or I’d gone for something a little less obvious. However, 2023 is probably the most guessable, nailed-on, is-there-any-point-scrolling-down one of them all. I care not. I love music, me, and so do you. There follows a selection of recommendations I loved more than the rest over the past twelve months.

10. Andrew Rumsey - Evensongs

    Fans of the Trashcan Sinatras may well enjoy a lovely new solo record from Andrew Rumsey, whose singing reminds me of Frank Reader’s keening majesty. ‘Evensongs’ was recorded in a twelfth-century Wiltshire church on a single day in late summer 2022 and has a heart-melting sense of space at its core. A singing bishop, Rumsey has that magical something in his voice, a quality that lingers in the room and which benefits from the air in the mix.

    ‘Favoured Son’ and ‘It’ll Come To Me’ are a pair of highlights here, blessed with aching vocals that also bring to mind the much-missed genius, Gavin Clark. Tim Oliver’s mastering at RealWorld has done a remarkable job of painting a 3D soundstage before the listener, including the natural echo of a vintage location. Rumsey is accompanied only by David Perry for additional guitar and harmonies, laying bare these evocative songs. I suspect you just need to hear it and see whether it connects. Be sure to give it your undivided attention and let the atmosphere of that venue fill the room. There’s a limited run on both CD and vinyl, as well as an accompanying book, ‘English Grounds - A Pastoral Journal’.

9. The Clientele - I Am Not There Anymore

   As I wrote back in May, the loss of Gideon Coe’s late show on 6 Music was keenly felt by many of us and it is associated with so many wonderful discoveries over the years. How much we should cherish those touchstones with whom we share considerable elements of our musical taste - Adam Walton, Laura Snapes, Pete Paphides, Laura Barton, Gilles Peterson and, of course Gid, for me - as they help us find tracks that quite sincerely improve our existence. These recordings dramatically affect our mood, influence aspects of our personality and often direct our social lives. What witchcraft lies at the heart of this obsession of ours.

   The Clientele are one of those bands that appeared on my radar thanks to Gideon and I vividly recall picking up their last album, ‘Music For The Age Of Miracles’ in Spillers having struggled to find it in local racks following a tip off on his show. But ‘I Am Not There Anymore’ is something else entirely. It’s so many different records, bands, styles and ideas fidgeting, fizzing and, somehow, coalescing across just over an hour of utterly beguiling songs. How do you go from opener ‘Fables Of The Silverlink’ and its mid-paced disco to the stately intensity of ‘Garden Eye Mantra’? A brief piano interlude, ‘Radial 'B’, seems only to draw attention to the switch.

   And listen to the percussive thunder of ‘Dying In May’, like Tindersticks on handfuls of blue Smarties. The programmed beats and sampled voices of ‘Conjuring Summer In’ sound great on vinyl but hypnotic in headphones. Truly, this record seems to take on a different shape based on the method of listening and time of day. It is quite remarkable. And let’s not forget the shimmering chug of ‘Claire’s Not Real’ and intense buzzing of ‘Chalk Flowers’. That Miles Davis’ ‘On The Corner’ was an influence of sorts makes sense, even if that’s not a helpful musical comparison. More than anything, just listen to it. And don’t dip in and out. Put it on, let it play and see what it does for and to you.

   Be sure to check out the superb Robin Allender-fronted podcast series that was released alongside the record for far more intriguing insights into the process.

8. Ivan Moult - Songs From Severn Grove

   Having been rather taken with Ivan Moult’s previous album, 2018’s ‘Longest Shadow’, I was warmly predisposed towards his latest, ‘Songs From Severn Grove’. But even this justified anticipation was surpassed by the truly beautiful record that emerged. Moult has performed, recorded, engineered and mixed the whole thing himself, suiting the deeply personal nature of the music. Possessed of a gorgeous voice, somewhere between John Martyn, Tim Buckley and Ray Lamontagne, he knows when to foreground it, when to add layers and when to interweave it with the shimmering instrumentation. 

   As with so many recent releases, work began during the pandemic months and tackles the emotional intensity flagged by going to ground, as well as the first stages of fatherhood and its impact upon a relationship. ‘Home & Dry’ presents multiple Moults as he explores the arrival of a little one and the instant shifting of the axis this presents. It highlights how evocative his electric guitar playing can be, alongside the fluid, dextrous use of the acoustic that defines much of his material. The textures of ‘Tell Me When’ are gloriously rendered in the mastering by Charlie Francis. Indeed, the whole album is a hugely moving triumph that was perfect company for summer evenings and rainy autumn mornings alike.

   In a very small way, my raving at the time helped towards the vinyl pressing selling out, so it’s CD or digital only for now. Well worth it, I’d argue.

7. Everything But The Girl - Fuse

   How is it that good? This is no re-boot for the nostalgia circuit. It’s not even a refresh of an old sound for a new scene. This is a duo feeling they have something to say and a new way to say it. Hearing Tracey Thorn’s unmistakeable voice once more is a particular pleasure, whether unfurling on ‘Run A Red Light’ or coldly intense on opener ‘Nothing Left To Lose’. Likely born of lockdown and emerging from some tentative writing that was easy to keep secret given Thorn and Ben Watt are married and the work was happening under one roof, ‘Fuse’ is clearly a record the pair felt they had to make.

   ‘Caution To The Wind’ is a particularly euphoric belter, both voices combining gloriously for its chorus but, as pure as their conjoined effect is, it is a willingness to experiment more with the vocals that is a defining characteristic of this album. ‘When You Mess Up’ and, in part, ‘Interior Space’ are oddly evocative of Low’s ‘Double Negative’ while ‘Lost’ has so many extra little clipped up words and phrases swirling in the background. It’s a remarkable record that is superb from start to finish. Sometimes returning acts get five stars out of a sense of gratitude that they’ve come back, but ‘Fuse’ received them entirely on merit. The vinyl edition is a truly magnificent Miles Showell-mastered Pallas pressing too, one of the year’s finest. What more could we want?

6. Gorillaz - Cracker Island

   Regular readers of my writing will know that I am more than a little fond of Damon Albarn’s musical output from the past thirty years or so. Whether as part of one of his trio of groups or flying solo, I would say his work moves me more consistently than any other artist. Of course, there are some releases that haven’t become firm favourites, but not many. I still marvel at 2018, when he released ‘The Now Now’ and ‘Merrie Land’ only months apart. In recent years, I’ve followed a loose policy of largely avoiding teaser tracks for especially anticipated albums and so I was tentatively excited to have my first play of ‘Cracker Island’ back in February. I listened at least two-dozen times in the first week and it’s been a regular companion since. I’ve previously suggested that my standard response to many Damon projects is to be initially quite pleased and then fall head over heels in the days and weeks that follow. But this one got me almost immediately.

   As ever, there’s a degree of genre-hopping and bending of the sound to meet any guest stars half-way. For example, ‘New Gold’ undeniably feels like a sturdy disco retooling of Tame Impala’s more exciting moments and the vocal layers for Stevie Nicks’ guest spot on ‘Oil’ could only be her. However, the fairly common criticism that this album was business as usual strikes me as a little odd. This is, at the very least, their best since 2010 and, quite possibly, their most tightly realised of all time. In a truly fantastic interview film with Damon, Zane Lowe was effusive in his suggestion that ‘Cracker Island’ is his favourite Gorillaz record and I get it. These are huge songs, with instant hooks and precision-engineered choruses. I had at least one track from it looping as an earworm for several months afterwards - pretty much until you know what - and they shuffle about, suggesting it’s not being hung on a couple of strong singles. The fruitful collaboration with revered producer Greg Kurstin has clearly energised Albarn.

   The title track with Thundercat has an irresistible propulsion to it, ‘Tarantula’ is gloriously tight and ‘Baby Queen’ is one of those mid-paced Albarn growers that shimmers and glitters its way into your affections. Oh, and ‘Precision Island’ could be a The Good, The Bad & The Queen song. But, ‘Skinny Ape’ has to be heard to be believed. It starts beautifully and ends sensationally, like one of those mis-triggered fireworks displays where everything goes off within several seconds of each other. Events may have overshadowed this, for British audiences at least, but its charms remain intact. It’s magical, ridiculous and utterly, utterly brilliant. I love him. And ‘Cracker Island’ has somehow made me love him even more.

5. Ana Frango Eletrico – Me Chama De Gato Que Eu Sou Sua

   For their third full-length, ‘Me Chama De Gato Que Eu Sou Sua’, Brazilian artist Ana Frango Elétrico teams up with Mr Bongo. It seems to be a very logical fit for an album that sounds like a satisfying rummage in the racks of an exceptional record shop. Honestly, it’s quite hard to pin down but each track comes on like the sort of thing someone would play you and say “listen to this” on the understanding that you were going to hear something instantly deserving of a purchase. Which it is. All of it.

   Both sides open with relative calm, ‘Electric Fish’ and ‘Camelo Azul’ highlighting the ornate mastering, while ‘Boy Of Stranger Things’ is one of best tracks I’ve heard all year. Starting like a quirky, vintage kids’ TV theme that would have been nicked for a rave track in the early-Nineties before executing a balancing act between funk and indie, it’s absolutely joyous. Be sure to check out the lyrics in the splendid accompanying fanzine. A pin-drop silent Optimal pressing, this has a deservedly impeccable cut. Great cover too, making it a genuinely exciting physical product to embrace when rummaging in the racks. Keep an eye out and treat yourself.

4. The Waeve - The Waeve

   I suppose I should start by apologising to Dave Rowntree*. His album, ‘Radio Songs’, is very good. I wrote about it on here, should you wish to do some searching. It just missed my end of year list but given the amount of blur-adjacent - and blur - love in this top ten, it feels a little harsh. Can’t be helped. However, the debut release from Rose Elinor Dougall and Graham Coxon as The WAEVE was very clearly excellent to these ears. If folky, synthy, new wave indie post-punk Bowie pop sounds like your sort of thing, then I’d be sure to give it a listen.

   Having long been a fan of both artists, I was little trepidatious about them combining their sizeable talents. However, this album is so good, I’ve even forgiven Coxon for the mild disappointment I experienced when reading his autobiography. While you’re probably au fait with his solo work - start with ‘Happiness In Magazines’ and ‘The Spinning Top’ in the event you’re not - if Dougall’s music hasn’t been on your radar then you’ve got a superb trio of albums to explore. Debut ‘Without Why’ is full of earworm indie and 2019’s ‘A New Illusion’ deserved more attention than it got. I interviewed her for Clash back in 2010 and posted an extended version elsewhere - several topics make for an amusing re-read from this distance!

   The thrills on ‘The Waeve’ are instant. Sample the first three tracks and then try to tell me there isn’t something for you in amongst those rather varied, genre-hopping companions. The strength of Dougall’s vocals fit perfectly with the inherent nasal fragility of Coxon’s. ‘Sleepwalking’ is one of a number of personal highlights, offering a clear bridge from the former’s previous solo work. ‘Kill Me Again’ plots a more logical course from the latter’s discography. Artists in a relationship beyond their work can sometimes stray into self-indulgent territory but this really feels like a record where they have served the songs and delivered something fully alive. Just listen to ‘Drowning’ - where did that manoeuvre at one minute twenty come from? It’s too easy to say it’s a bit like Talk Talk, because it’s not. By three minutes, it’s like several records playing at once, with Tony Allen somehow beamed in on drums.

   Its hugely endearing refusal to do what you’re expecting means it may well be poorly served when expectations are tested against a single piece of music. If you’ve previously doubted the project based an excerpt in isolation or a wildly-hyped teaser track for a click-commanding website news story, I’d urge you to try the whole thing in one sitting. Preferably after 9pm. When finalising this list, I put it on again and the reverb-soaked piano on opener ‘Can I Call You’ had me hypnotised, knowing exactly what would happen to the song in under two minutes. Turn it up and up and up. (Great vinyl mastering too)

   *I didn’t buy any of Alex’s ‘Britpop’ cider either.

3. The National - First Two Pages Of Frankenstein / Laugh Track

   I’m not sure I can separate them and it felt odd when two spots in the top ten were occupied by the same band. And, yes, I know. I wrote at length about the first, so I’ve included some of that below, before raving about the second afterwards. Relative word count is not indicative of anything.

   We bring so much to songs. Our prior fondness, our barely controlled expectations and our mood at the moment we press play or lower a stylus. In turn, the listener relies on the artist bringing everything at their end and delivering art that comes alive when those two very different purposes intersect. Sometimes, fans want a sound that no longer exists, no longer pours forth in the creative process for a particular group of musicians. On other occasions, the artist struggles to locate whatever they think they should be doing at that particular moment in their career.

   In Matt Berninger’s case, it was much worse than that as The National began to work on a new record. There was just nothing there and that absence became all-consuming. That these personal implications are the subject of one of his new lyrics - “Your mind is not your friend again, it takes you by the hand and leaves you nowhere” - at least confirms that it was navigable, but one wonders what marks the experience has left behind. There is a further fragility to his voice on ‘First Two Pages Of Frankenstein’, a quieter reticence, as if fearful that he might break things again.

   The opening track, ‘Once Upon A Poolside’ featuring Sufjan Stevens, is vital to unlocking this relatively brief (for them) album. The opening bars of stately piano will be familiar to anyone who witnessed the initial teaser for the whole campaign, but its spectral soundscape feels like a purging of the doubts. Inevitably, instant judgements will see many of these songs as tales of broken relationships, but this is actually a heartbreaking transmission from Berninger’s frustrated mind. “Don’t make this any harder, everybody’s waiting. Walk on’s almost over,” he tells himself, as if the pressure to deliver might snap him out of it. There’s even doubt in what remains certain.

   Observing the band’s efforts to rally around him at this point, as he had done for them previously, he sings “This is the closest we’ve ever been, and I have no idea what’s happening. Is this how this whole thing is gonna end?” But even the clarity of those relationships is distorted by the void, followed immediately by the question, “Is this the closest we’ve ever been?” It’s truly stunning and obviously beautiful from the first play. However, it was about a dozen listens in that it suddenly had me tearful. The true weight of his disorientation and isolation seems to seep out with repeated exposure and it’s quite something, given its story.

   With some magnificent artistry, that first track finishes with the line “I thought we could make it through anything.”

   The sequencing is excellent, using the upbeat grower ‘Tropic Morning News’ and the ornate duet with Taylor Swift ‘The Alcott’ as two enduring pillars at its heart. Where ‘Coney Island’ from ‘evermore’ was a decent song, the latter of those two album landmarks truly locates the perfect interplay for these two unmistakable voices. Not only do they seem to sit more naturally alongside each other but Swift’s capacity to weave around Berninger is strikingly natural.

   The gloriously odd construction of ‘New Order T-Shirt’ sounds even more at home when situated amongst other songs, exploring the comfort found from emotionally resonant mundanity when the person that gave these spaces and items value has gone. It’s a perfect example of the wider range of drum styles found here as Bryan Devendorf leant into the direction being pursued by the brothers Dessner. For this, some retro patterns from an app were deployed atop a previously rather gentle acoustic track to create mid-paced electro-folk for the nostalgic. It seems to gain further weight and charm with every play and it is a fine distillation of what this band sound like in 2023.

   There are plenty of other delights to be found across the eleven tracks of ‘First Two Pages…’ and it closes with a similarly exposing frailty to how it opened, even if the mood is very different. ‘Send For Me’ wrong-foots the listener with its plain and honest plea to “Send for me whenever, wherever and I’ll come and get you." While Berninger may regularly make lyrical hay exploring the hypothetical breakdown of partnerships he treasures with the intent of using such exploration to keep them strong, here he seems to favour a truth that speaks to the relief at finally having access to his craft again. It’s sincerely sweet, rather slight and purposefully hushed. Its very considered inclusion also suggests a stronger desire to ensure this isn’t how it ends than the frontman has had for some time.

   And this was not. The band spoke in interviews of a great deal of additional material that didn’t fit on the initial record, including tracks with the distinctive drumming of Bryan Devendorf at the fore. There had even been some disquiet about what had and hadn’t been put out. And then there was that collaboration with Bon Iver than had been teased well in advance. Where had that gone? Well, first came two unexpected, barely announced digital tracks, ‘Alphabet City’ and ‘Space Invader’. Both were great and both came on rather more like the ‘classic’ sound of The National. And then, with minimal fuss, the second set was out.

   Whichever way you look at it, returning from a much-discussed and band-threatening case of writer’s block with two albums in seven months is quite the story and they may well have saved the stronger of the two sets for last. While ‘First Two Pages Of Frankenstein’ is excellent, ‘Laugh Track’ has an energy and presence that seems to encapsulate the renewed sense of purpose felt by vocalist and lyricist Matt Berninger. It thrills instantly and encourages increased volume. Which will endure more emphatically is yet to be seen and, frankly, who cares? Both are great and we got them in one calendar year.

   The fresh burst of energy and intent stoked by performing again after the concerns is even captured here, ‘Smoke Detector’ having been created following a newfound interest in improvising during soundchecks. Highlights abound, including ‘Crumble’ featuring Rosanne Cash, the title track with Phoebe Bridgers and the aforementioed ‘Space Invader’ with that drum sound. It’s gifted a Joe Nino-Hernes cut via Sterling but, as with the previous volume, there are various different pressings out there. Use Discogs to ensure you get the Optimal editions of both. The soundstage is pleasing, marginally more so in the case of ‘Laugh Track’, with an open top end and a sturdy presentation of the rhythm section. 

2. Hamish Hawk - Angel Numbers

   Hamish Hawk, eh? What a talent. I loved his 2021 release, ‘Heavy Elevator’ after catching one of the tracks on a Radcliffe & Maconie show one weekend. That voice. Like Neil Hannon gargling Richard Hawley while impersonating Edwyn Collins singing Scott Walker. That doesn’t really do him justice, because he possesses a unique tone that goes beyond mere comparison. One of those artists who really resonate by singing in their own accent, Hawk isn’t just doing indie jangle. And any other year, Hamish, I think you’d be in the top spot. But ‘Best Album of 2023 that wasn’t The Ballad Of Darren’ is still a decent title, right?

   There’s soul, classic rock, vintage pop and so much more besides in the sensationally confident and perfectly constructed songs that make up Hawk’s latest record, ‘Angel Numbers’. ‘Think Of Us Kissing’ seems to switch from Joy Division to Springsteen to Maximo Park in about sixty seconds and I am very much here for it. Zoom in on the bridge and pick out all of the little things happening just prior to it exploding again. Sensational stuff.

   The track ‘Money’ has one of those sensational choruses where the bulk of the work is done by singing a single word with its syllables broken up and elongated in a variety of ways. It’s absurdly, almost obscenely catchy and it made me sad that Neil Forsyth’s tremendous comedy-drama Guilt had concluded before this could be included. At the other extreme are the aching atmospherics of ‘Frontman’, with a striking guest turn from Anna B Savage. Somehow, amongst all of this, sits the yearning, swaying warmth of ‘Bill’, foregrounding a different side of Hawk’s voice.

   ‘Bridget St. John’ isn’t what you’d expect it to be, but it’s hypnotically charming. Then try the delivery of the lyric to ‘Rest & Veneers’, which somehow sounds like it’s nearly falling over itself from the off before arriving at an understatedly beguiling chorus featuring Samantha Crain. Honestly, every song is noteworthy. Every song lingers. Every song is enchanting. This album (and its fine sounding vinyl pressing) has been a welcome and ever-present friend throughout the year, even getting a look in during the heady summer months to which we’ll turn shortly. I had high hopes for it, but its longevity and mood-altering qualities have crept up on me. Meet your new best friend.

1. blur - The Ballad Of Darren

   I wrote a lengthy review of this album earlier in the year and it’s one of the pieces of mine of which I’m most proud. I put my heart and soul into it because the record compelled me to, in much the same way that Damon had put his into it. I’ve reproduced a sample from that post below and the link to it all at the end. I think it bears re-reading, in the same way that ‘The Ballad Of Darren’ has lost nothing in the months since its release. By the time they packed up their gear again, I’d seen blur three more times, including the BBC Radio 2 show and the remarkable whole album performance at the Apollo. The atmosphere in the room for that live-streamed gig was unlike anything I’ve ever known. They are truly, deservedly loved and this album is one of their very best. Of course it’s my pick of 2023. Here’s what I said before…

   During an occasionally insightful 2014 interview with La Musicale, Damon talked about how his voice has a habit of sounding sad whenever he sings. Certainly, that rich melancholia is one of the key aspects of my undiluted adoration of his work, but there are many shades of Albarn on show here. It will be tempting for the hasty listeners to bound through the tracks, seeking to categorise them as seeming like one or the other of his extra-curricular projects but it’s a waste of time. The thought crossed my mind after the initial couple of plays, but it quickly faded and having now listened at least once – and often multiple times – daily for the past seven weeks to the whole thing, this is categorically a blur album. It’s a different sounding blur album, but that suits me just fine. Coxon’s wildly varied, always-perfect guitar parts could only be him and Alex James’ always-underrated bass playing emerges from the more instant thrills of the vocal melodies. He’s integral to that first single and he’s at the heart of a track that I just cannot shake. It has been a near-constant ear-worm and I’m increasingly of the opinion that it’s one of the greatest songs they’ve ever made.

   ‘Barbaric’ is the happiest sad song I’ve encountered in some time and is, quite sincerely, perfect. I know with absolute certainty that I will be a gibbering wreck if I ever witness it performed live and yet it is highly likely to join ‘The Narcissist’ in getting copious airplay on Radio 2. It seems, at first, to all be there in the gradually evolving refrain, “I have lost the feeling that I thought I’d never lose. At what cost, the feeling that I thought I’d never lose? It is barbaric.” From the first person, it progresses through the second and concludes at first person plural in its final iteration. But there’s so much staggering imagery in there: “Now you can’t play to every taste, the powder keg of common cause. All of us carry trauma. And, in lieu of an explanation, I will pour oil from the cup on the pyre of abdication.” Personal separation or angst about a bond unthinkably broken? I suspect we’ll never know and I’m not sure we need to, as I’ve found so much in there from my own obsessive perspective. It’s the most heartbreaking song I’ve ever danced to while putting out the washing, the catchiest meditation on what remains once what seemed permanent has disintegrated before you.

   The full piece can be found here:

   I wrote a review of the BBC show for Clash too, which is still online here.

   Thanks for reading my various things this year. I still love doing the column and I’m continuing to think about how best to use Substack alongside it. Posting turntable shots on TwitterX and engaging in chats about the music featured remains a delight. Most of all, finding out that people have picked up records - and loved them - off the back of my enthusing seems a good reason to keep on keeping on. Have a good Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all.

Buy me ‘Ko-Fi’ if you’re so inclined.