In the five years since we started doing this feature, changes in the music world that were set in motion almost a decade ago really started to take hold. The wholesale move away from critiquing the things that are actually happening in an art form and toward simply trying to predict what's going to happen next became firmly ensconced in how we do business. It's tied to the nature of hype and the internet and blogs and the death of print and all that stuff people are always blabbering about, to the point where even mentioning it seems hopelessly trite. When it comes down to it, though, it's still happening. And it's still depressing.
And we're as guilty of it as anyone, I guess. When Rolling Stone decides that a band you wrote about two years ago is "breaking," you want to gloat, even if just for a moment. When a band playing Saturday Night Live appeared in a feature you wrote three years earlier, it's hard not to make a joke about it. I don't think I've ever let the perceived potential for future boasting ever play too big a part in the choices we've made, but it'd be disingenuous to say it doesn't cross my mind. Being right begets credibility, which begets pageviews, which begets ad dollars, which begets a raise for me, maybe, which begets, I dunno, happiness?
But this year, I made a concerted effort to think as little as possible about that sort of stuff because, aside from it being a rat-race in which I see practically no critical value whatsoever, I also know that I couldn't even begin to guess what will be popular six months from now, let alone three years from now. If you'd asked me 18 months ago what would be happening in Brooklyn in 2010, I never in a million years would have guessed we'd still be struggling to get beyond the tyranny of careless and, more importantly, tuneless lo-fi, or that so much of our city would be shamelessly trying to re-make Merriweather Post Pavilion. That's exactly where we're at, though, and it has me extremely worried. Or it had me worried, anyway.
Every time we've done this feature, I've been genuinely surprised by the quality of the bands that make the final list, which is to say nothing of the countless great bands we've had to leave out over the years. And yet, when it came time to start work on this year's feature, I genuinely had no idea if I'd be able to do it. But for every, let's say, six or eight bands that forced me to get up from my desk and angrily walk outside, only to remember that, fuck, I quit smoking eight months ago, there was one that consoled me: North Highlands for their beautifully rickety take on classic indie rock, Ball of Flame Shoot Fire for their deep, abiding strangeness, Ava Luna for their inventive arrangements and huge, sneaky hooks, Nohow On for their refreshing, almost single-minded respect for melody. And so on.
Now that it's done, I might be more pleased with this year's list than I've been with any other, and it's a heartwarming testament to the city's character that, even when you fear the worst, a couple dead-end trends don't stand a chance against the spirit of creativity that's always been so plentiful here, especially in the face of adversity. Not even, it turns out, when the adversity is coming from within. -- Mike Conklin
Ava Luna
MP3: "Pass the Barbary"
The driving force behind Brooklyn's Ava Luna is a talented young songwriter named Carlos Hernandez. He's a producer and the son of a well-known soul DJ, with the attention to detail and the wide-ranging tastes that come along with those things, but he's far from the only thing the band has going for it. Ava Luna's great charm lies in its many disparate parts: Hernandez's smoothed-out vocals, the minimalist keys and synths, the deep, stuttering bass, the awkward but still danceable vibe and, perhaps most notably, the all-female trio of back-up singers who are actually anything but backup. Nothing is ever really front and center here, rather pushed just off to the side, briefly passing through your periphery and then disappearing just moments before popping up somewhere else entirely, and the result is some of the most immediately engaging and smart music currently coming from our city.
Favorite NYC Venue :
Silent Barn. Joe Ahearn is the coolest—he's always been really supportive, and he's been doing shows with us since 2006. Our friend Kunal recently moved into the Barn and has been throwing afternoon stew-and-homemade arcade game parties. Does life get better?
What NYC band would you give up your spot on the list for?
Recently we've gotten re-excited about a band we played with when we were first getting started—Glass Ghost. Their album, Idol Omen, has been on repeat for weeks. Laura Stevenson and the Cans is another favorite, and also keep an eye on Stalley, an amazing MC who actually recently asked us to remix one of his tracks. Do we have to pick just one?
One thing you'd like to change about being a band in NYC?
[Carlos Hernandez] I can't imagine making music anywhere else. No matter what type of thing you're doing, you'll find people who can get into it. One downside for this band is that we're scattered around the city... it takes over two hours by subway to get between some of our apartments.
What's the biggest misconception about being in a band in NYC?
To be honest I'm not sure what conceptions people have about being a New York band. I guess people seem to think New Yorkers are mean, but I don't think that's true at all, and especially not in the music world.
If you could be an NYC band in any other year in history, which year would you choose?
The early 70s. Downtown composers, the birth of disco, the New Wave thing... seriously, it's hard to imagine a crazier time.
Favorite song about NYC:
Bobby Womack, "Across 110th Street."
Slideshow
MiniBoone
MP3: "Rosalina Must Dance"
So here's a weird thing about MiniBoone: They write really, really fast songs. This wouldn't typically be considered all that weird, of course, but go ahead, we dare you to get real lost in a web of Brooklyn bands' MySpace pages and tell us that shit hasn't slowed down to the point where you can't figure out how people are even staying awake at the Market Hotel every night. MiniBoone is a breath of fresh air: The songs on their debut EP, Big Changes, burst at the seams with a frantic energy that hasn't really been prevalent around here since, god, maybe Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. And in fact, there are elements of that band at play here, as well as the standard Talking Heads thing, plus maybe some early Weezer and some mid-90s post-punk. When it comes down to it, though, they're in it for the hooks, and you will be too, because they are fucking huge.
Favorite NYC Venue:
We find ourselves playing Bruar Falls all the time, so that's probably our favorite these days. They put in a real sound booth, so they've worked out any sound problems they had at first, and the booking, the crowd, staff and all that have been great from the start. Brooklyn Cake Shop sounded like a great idea and it turns out it is. Shout out to the Charleston, too. They've had our back from day one.
What NYC band would you give up your spot on the list for?
We really like Quiet Loudly a lot. They combine Motown beats, scuzzy feedback and huge vocals in ways that shouldn't work at all, but end up with epic, awesome songs. They're also good men, which are hard to find.
One thing you'd like to change about being a band in NYC?
Right now, how much it costs to insure a van.
What's the biggest misconception about being in a band in NYC?
That you don't have, need, or want a day job. Most of us don't have trust funds, and some of us are even not boring jaded people.
If you could be an NYC band in any other year in history, which year would you choose?
Everyone idealizes mid-to-late 70s New York, and with some good reason, but we'd fit in better in the 20s. The Gatsby era seems like it would've been more fun than the Sid and Nancy era.
Favorite song about NYC:
When Andrew WK sings "I Love New York City" it's so heartfelt and amazing that we're sometimes convinced that we actually love New York City, too.
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Twin Sister
MP3: "All Around and Away We Go"
If any of you young bands out there are still debating the merits of giving away your music for free at first, please see Twin Sister. The Brooklyn/Long Island dream-pop quintet are giving away their debut EP, Vampires With Dreaming Kids, on their website, along with basically everything else they've ever recorded, which all told, is somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 songs. And now look at them: The blogs can't stop talking about them, they're currently on a totally legit tour that was booked by a totally legit booking agent, they've got some dates opening up for Xiu Xiu, and they signed a deal with Brooklyn upstart Infinite Best Records, who are releasing their brand new EP, Color Your Life, which people will have to pay for with real money. See how that works? It doesn't hurt that their songs are stylish and refreshing, not to mention subtly hooky and perfect for daydreaming, so you should consider trying that, too.
Favorite NYC Venue:
Silent Barn. It's walking distance from Dev's place, beers are cheap, it's low key, and there are always great small bands playing.
What NYC band would you give up your spot on the list for?
The Kitchen Cabinet.
One thing you'd like to change about being a band in NYC?
Having a car in New York is really hard, so getting your equipment to a venue is really tough.
What's the biggest misconception about being in a band in NYC?
That we like the nightlife.
If you could be an NYC band in any other year in history, which year would you choose?
1960 or 1980. John Cage or Afrika Bambaata.
Favorite song about NYC:
Nas, "NY State of Mind."
Slideshow
Asa Ransom
MP3: "Relic"
Well, jeez, for all the bitching we've done that every band in this godforsaken city sounds exactly the same, it's a shame that we only recently came across Asa Ransom. We once wrote of their "hyperactive, heavily percussive Moroccan-post-dance-punk," and we stand proudly by it. We'd like to add, though, that they also call to mind the mighty Destroyer, and in a way, the even mightier Van Pelt. The vocals are more spoken than sung, delivered in a way that doesn't so much demand your attention as it does convince you that only an unfeeling know-nothing would dare not pay attention. They've already released a free EP called The Gold, and they've taken their show on the road, too, like bands used to do before the internet. Also, they have Asa Ransom-branded pashminas.
Favorite NYC Venue :
Cameo Gallery—personal, professional and, hell, we're doing a residency there in April.
What NYC band would you give up your spot on the list for?
Agent Strange.
One thing you'd like to change about being a band in NYC?
People aren't necessarily eager to go out and hear new music in New York. You really have to prove how good you are to them. All over the country people are eager to hear new music, but in New York people hear every new thing, and you have to give them a reason to stay past their friend's band.
What's the biggest misconception about being in a band in NYC?
The thought process that moving to NYC is to get signed, without entering the mindset of truly developing an interesting and innovative sound. Thinking you can "hit it big" here easily.
If you could be an NYC band in any other year in history, which year would you choose?
2012. To be the soundtrack for the end of history.
Favorite song about NYC:
"The Message" by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
Slideshow
Nohow On
MP3: Back in the day when these guys were called No Eye Contact, which was, like, three weeks ago, they made an album that opens with an a cappella choir singing Appalachian gospel music. It's a decidedly uncool move—probably not something that will get the chillwave kids riled up—but opens a direct line to the rousing heart and charm that makes You and Me and Other Fables so special. As far as indie cred goes, it's full of nods to Neutral Milk Hotel, from its curiosity-shop assortment of instruments (banjos, squeezeboxes, shakers, harmonicas, whistles) to its warm lo-fi imperfection, and it wears enough heartbreaking earnestness on its sleeve to recall the Mountain Goats. For just-plain-good-music cred, the trio, having now changed their name to a Samuel Beckett fragment, stands as a testament to the power of melody, something that seems to flow so effortlessly from them that it's not even fair.
Favorite NYC Venue:
Zebulon, because there is no cover, there's always people there, and they book a very eclectic range—you never know what you'll get.
What NYC band would you give up your spot on the list for?
Heather Christian and the Arbornauts.
One thing you'd like to change about being a band in NYC?
Parking tickets.
What's the biggest misconception about being in a band in NYC?
That it's still 1965.
If you could be an NYC band in any other year in history, which year would you choose?
1524 when Giovanni de Verrazano discovered New York—so we could say "Yeah, we were here before it got hip."
Favorite song about NYC:
"Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" by Bob Dylan.
Slideshow
Ball of Flame Shoot Fire
MP3: "Patience"
Ball of Flame, as we will hereby forever call them, make songs that sound slightly familiar but mostly strange, as if the weirdo-voiced trifecta of Dan Bejar, Spencer Krug and Carey Mercer flopped between fronting a vaudeville troupe and Animal Collective—also a prog-rock band and a circus. Erratic, at-times-cartoonish vocals run all over their full-length debut, Jokeland, overlapping mini orchestras of guitar, organ, trumpet, saxophone, upright bass, electronic samples and everything else under the sun. But there's a dogged devotion to melody too; those spastic yelps may tempt it off course, but the rest of the band refuses to let it get lost. With so many cooks in the kitchen (all five members live together, putting in time as songwriters), it's clear that they're a band with lots of ideas. They just happen to also be really good at turning them into interesting, unpredictable songs. And you know what else? Best band name ever.
Favorite NYC Venue:
Union Hall is pretty great. We've only played there twice, but we've seen plenty of shows there and it always makes for a great night. Also, the sound guy there, Jesse, is extra friendly and helpful and they also have great burgers and bocce.
What NYC band would you give up your spot on the list for?
Elizabeth Devlin has been around for a bit, but we're into her music right now. She plays autoharp and her sound has this delicate but engrossing feel. It's like you're seeing her play in a snow globe.
One thing you'd like to change about being a band in NYC?
One problem is that you try to see as much as you can, but once you do, you get the feeling that you're probably missing just as much as you're hearing. Since we're relatively new here, it's hard to have gripes about being a band in the city. I feel like we haven't earned that yet.
What's the biggest misconception about being in a band in NYC?
We knew that moving in together and trying to drop right into the city would be tough, but we never expected so many other bands to be so helpful and friendly. It's difficult because there are so many different bands trying to get heard through so many different avenues, not because anyone is cutthroat or anything. I think we kind of expected it to be more like Glengarry Glen Ross.
If you could be an NYC band in any other year in history, which year would you choose?
We're split between 1979 and the late 19th century, when our money would be worth a lot more, not having a van wouldn't seem as bad, and we would have been the loudest non-thunder sound anyone had ever heard.
Favorite song about NYC:
Harry Nilsson's "I Guess the Lord Must be in New York City." That or most Moondog songs.
Slideshow
North Highlands
MP3: "Sugar Lips"
At a time when one of the most common gripes against the indie-rock hype machine is that too much is gleaned from a band's earliest material, and that they wind up written off before they've had a chance to develop, or praised to the high heavens before they're able to live up to it, it is perhaps a bit gauche to do what we're about to do. But man, the first song these guys ever wrote together is just brilliant: It's called "Collar Bones," and it's an irresistible bit of chamber-pop—airy and gently swaying, and eventually a little bit jumpy, with singer Brenda Malvini's vocals adding an almost vaudevillian quality to the mix. And here's the kicker: Everything they've done since is just as good, if not better. Their debut EP, Sugar Lips, was released back in December of last year, and it's just dripping with homespun charm, all warm and comforting, but never boring. You'll want Ms. Malvini to be your grandmother, basically.
Favorite NYC Venue:
We are real appreciative of new DIY promoters who keep venues open to smaller local and traveling bands. They book eclectic shows and take risks, giving new bands their start. The show could be anywhere, we just love playing with bands who keep us excited to be living in New York City.
What NYC band would you give up your spot on the list for?
Dream Diary.
One thing you'd like to change about being a band in NYC?
It wouldn't hurt for it to be more affordable. More free beer tickets and sandwiches maybe. Ideally grants would be more available to musicians and composers. Isn't that why Scandinavian bands are so good?
What's the biggest misconception about being in a band in NYC?
Some blog comment pages show a skepticism that many New York bands are insincere, contrived and undeserving. There are definitely a lot of developing bands in New York who bust their asses hard making music because they love it.
If you could be a NYC band in any other year in history, which year would you choose?
1984.
Favorite song about NYC:
"Springtime in New York" by Jonathan Richman.
Slideshow
Oberhofer
MP3: "Away Frm U"
Other writers have described the once solo project of Brad Oberhofer as a less bizarre version of the Unicorns, a one-man MGMT, or a descendent of the Dodos, and while we get what they're going for—there's lots of eccentric quirks, oddball timing and tribal-like percussion—they're not accounting for the post-punk jitteriness that very much informs his seven-song EP (available for free on his blog). This is key. Reckless energy runs deep, and between the distortion and unhinged emotion, his vocals are hard to keep contained, making the entire operation feel like it's about to spin out of control. Despite the kaleidoscopic whirl, there's an emphasis on straightforward lyrics; it's almost as if he's a 19-year-old kid who started writing music as a competitive freestyle rapper in the fifth grade, recently moved to New York after his family home in Tacoma burned down, and has songs bursting to get out of him. Actually, it's pretty much exactly like that.
Favorite NYC Venue:
The Market Hotel is one of a kind. It has a capacity large enough to make a full event seem huge, and just small enough to feel equally intimate. Attending and playing shows at the Market Hotel reassures you that there is a large community of people making, supporting and genuinely enjoying art for whatever it is.
What NYC band would you give up your spot on the list for?
Beach Fossils.
One thing you'd like to change about being a band in NYC?
The giant degrading "X" policy.
What's the biggest misconception about being in a band in NYC?
I really don't know what people say about that.
If you could be an NYC band in any other year in history, which year would you choose?
1977. Post-Television and Ramones, though still tons of room for innovation within pop/punk. I want to witness a less gentrified New York and a more rebellious brand of musician.
Favorite song about NYC:
"Pacifics" by Digable Planets.
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Honorable Mentions
Pet Ghost Project
Originally the recording project of one Justin Stivers, Pet Ghost Project reminds us of the halcyon days of, what else, 90s indie-rock, when rehearsal spaces were littered with empty beer bottles and stacks of cassette tapes, full of schizophrenic 4-track recordings that captured the spirit of that day and that day only. Distorted, squiggly guitars are intertwined with high-impact keyboards and vocals that are content to add texture as opposed to stealing scenes. Stivers has released a huge amount of music already, and as the one-time bassist for the Antlers, it should come as no surprise that he's got a pronounced flare for the dramatic. Refreshingly, though, he steers clear of the melodrama. Now more of a full band than at any other time in the past, they've got a new full-length, Shelf-Life, set for
release this year.
Shark?
God, we seriously love it when bands have a song named after themselves. What we don't love, though, is that at the time of this writing, only 38 people have listened to "Shark?" by Shark? on their MySpace page. We also don't love that this question mark, officially part of their name, is making this whole thing very difficult to read. Anyway, let's do this: Modern Lovers, Go Betweens, Pavement, and, sorry, but the Strokes, at least insofar as they've perfected the sound of not caring while clearly caring very much. It's grimy and blaring, but there's also a noticeable elegance to their best material, where they build something beautiful and serious, only to knock it down and laugh at it. Lo-fi with a purpose, basically.
Ribbons
What we have here is a perfectly executed take on gloomy, 80s-style post-punk most identified with smarty-pants outsiders Felt, Orange Juice and, obviously, Joy Division. But the California-bred, Brooklyn-based duo adds to the equation a penchant for instrumental flourishes that are as technically impressive as they are tasteful.
Food Stamps
There's something you should know about Food Stamps: They're so totally Brooklyn 2010, as their somewhat tasteless band name can attest. It's almost as if they're asking to be pegged with hipster stereotypes, but being in Brooklyn in 2010 also means having the opportunity to make exactly the kind of music you want to make. The boy-girl duo opts for pitting speak-sung vocals against a mix of guitar and programmed beats, coming off like a less-abrasive, pop-oriented version of Sleigh Bells. At the end of the day, they're two kids who made a wildly catchy EP, which is something no one—not even the anonymous "meh" guy on
BrooklynVegan—should oppose.
Cults
Honest? With no MySpace page and virtually no information about these guys online, they exist almost exclusively on Pitchfork after having been granted a coveted "Best New Music" tag in early March for their track "Go Outside." We read what P-fork had to say, listened to the song, and suddenly felt like high-fiving strangers. That said, we can't claim to have found Cults on our own, but we knew we had to do our small part and help spread the word about them. The three tracks on their Bandcamp page—pared-down, Fisher-Price versions of something by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros with glockenspiel, bouncy piano and childlike vocals—point to a band that could be really special. Pass the Kool-Aid, man.
Akudama
Akudama should've had a cameo on The OC. Seth Cohen would totally dig 'em, with their accessible, everyman take on classic indie and touches of nerd rock, plus their song "Dishes" reminds us of Phantom Planet. Rogue Wave comes to mind as well, especially in how frontman Blake Charleton's natural, unpretentious vocals roll over air-tight arrangements marked by an obvious focus on hooks. Then there are songs like "Sun (From Underneath the Lake)" and "Fireflies." Here they step things up with cascading melodies, caveman drumming, prickly guitars and punctuating shouts, giving current buzz band Local Natives a run for their money in the "best band to encompass more than three current indie-rock trends in one song" category.
Led er Est
There's a bit of cruelty in the fact that the minimal synth revival's first breakout band, Cold Cave, came from Philadelphia of all places. New York's had a colder, truer scene for years, though its finest full-length triumph just came with Led er Est's debut, Dust on Common, released late last year by local alpha-gloom label Wierd Records. This most subterranean of sub-genres has trouble sucking in anyone who doesn't specifically go searching for it, but Led er Est makes smart, romantic, if unabashedly dark pop that should appeal to any soul resentful of being spoon-fed a cozy beach holiday.
Human Resources
Feel like the city's bands are just a little too easy to categorize? Fancy yourself a cutting-edge type who assumes that Brooklyn's resurgent cassette culture is pointless format nostalgia? Wanna hear something odd? All nodding heads are encouraged to track down Human Resources', Fast Times c15 tape (or at least download it like a reasonable person). You'll find clatter-drones that surprise with bursts of wit rather than endless expanse, and the wobbly, floating heartbreak of "Song for Karen" burning out after only a minute. And that's before the sarcastic pop chaos of "Yellow Cake," which is delightfully baffling enough that it's unclear whether it's actually about illicit uranium or office birthday tedium, as both seem totally plausible.
Diehard
With such a large portion of music made these days coming from people who came of age in the grungy glow of the 90s, its token slacker rock has become a go-to influence for what seems like every other band in the city. Diehard is another with undying respect for the decade, it's just that they hone in on all the best aspects and leave out the bad, which is to say there are guitars—driving, crunchy and distorted, just so. Boy-girl harmonies recall the Rentals, precise arrangements are played with reckless energy like Superchunk, and everything's cloaked in the pop fuzz of Lou Barlow's Sebadoh. We're going to totally mail-order their debut EP, Oh So Premier, and blast it from our compact-disc player.
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