• LEGO Architecture’s Fallingwater model
• Framed embroidery featuring one of Kanye West’s wise tweets
• A Squishable Rooster (or—wait—is the Squishable Buffalo better?)
• A steer’s head made from recycled farm machinery
• Some Mark Nason loafers that are either killer or are totally the first step toward a career as a full-time shuffleboard player

I came of age—in just about every meaningful sense of that term—in the 1980s.  My interests, my worldview, and my aesthetic will, I guess, always have an 80s vibe.  In fact, God willing, I’ll still be rocking out to Guadalcanal Diary when I’m in the nursing home.

Apparently, I won’t be alone.

Gotye is the project of Wouter De Backer, a Belgian-Australian songwriter and multi-instrumentalist musician.  Making Mirrors is his third album, but—thanks to my album club—it’s the first that comes to my attention.  And though De Backer was himself born in the 1980s (gulp!), it’s obvious that he’s wallowing in the sound and feel of that decade as much as I still am.  In fact, nearly every review seems to compare his sound to Peter Gabriel, early-solo Sting, or, for gosh sakes, Hall & Oates.  It’s easy to see why.

Making Mirrors

Yes, nearly every track on Making Mirrors sounds like something you might’ve heard on the radio in, oh, 1985.  Is that a good thing?  For me, of course, the answer is yes.  Is that the sign of a mature artist—or, for that matter, a mature listener?  You tell me.

The first couple of tracks on Making Mirrors (a wee title track and “Easy Way Out”) certainly had me thinking of a certain breed of 80s-era “experimental” rock.  Oh, hell, I just say it: The songs had me thinking Peter Gabriel-esque thoughts.  From there, though, the album moves into other terrains.  Other 80s-style terrains, anyway.  “I Feel Better” evokes late Motown.  “Eyes Wide Open” is a little INXS-ish.  “State of the Art” is early techno—if one can still produce “early” techno in the 21st century. I’m thinking Gotye can.

Gotye has some real range here.  Making Mirrors is a tour of the 80s.  And that’s a tour I’ll always sign up for.

“Somebody That I Used to Know” is the standout on the album.  De Backer’s vocals on the track—about lost love, naturally—will probably have you thinking of Sting.  De Backer usefully pairs his vocals with those of Kimbra, a New Zealander who, I swear, sort of reminds me of a cross between Kate Bush and Bonnie Tyler.  I just can’t stop with the 80s references!  Whatever—”Somebody” has a great sound.  It’s the song that’s going on my iPod.

On a scale of one to 10, Making Mirrors gets a seven.

Somehow or other, my friend Jenny convinced me to join her album club.  This is really a tribute to her, and my fondness for her, because I’ve had some bad experiences with clubs.  The office book club, for instance, has had me on a steady diet of Thackeray, way-too-serious nonfiction, and Thomas Pynchon for, oh, about 10 years now.  I yearn for a little light reading, you know?  Would it really hurt the group to—hey,  just once in awhile—pick a little mystery novel?  Or to read something about love?  Apparently so.

I’ve actually been threatening to leave the book club.  And when the Pynchon-lovers ask why, I just say something about being middle-aged.  About time being short.  About wanting to spend my limited free time reading what I want to read.

So, erm, maybe it’s not a good sign that I’m just not too wild about the album club’s initial selection, Over the Rhine‘s The Trumpet Child.  The band—centered around a husband and wife—is from southern Ohio, and it’s apparently even named after a Cincinnati neighborhood.  I took that as a good sign.  After all, I’m drawn to music that’s rootsy, to music that’s marked by regionalism of some sort or other.  Indeed, Americana music is one of my favorite genres.  And my friends in the club were toying with the Americana label as a possible way of describing Over the Rhine’s music.

The Trumpet Child

To my ear, though, this is not an Americana band.  And I don’t mean that as criticism.  Not really, anyway.  There is just very little about this band that draws from or speaks to any sort of American roots music.  Karin Bergquist’s vocals, for instance, are completely untraceable to any region.  She could be from Cincinnati or Chicago or Tacoma or San Mateo.  For that matter, she could be from Brussels or Munich.  She has a sort of bland, mildly jazz-y vocal delivery—something on the order of what you’d expect from a contemporary Christian artist who’d suddenly forsaken Jesus for Ella.  Likewise, the vibe provided by pianist/guitarist Linford Detweiler is more Suburban Strip Mall™ than Dusty Honky Tonk™.

Again, that Over the Rhine isn’t an Americana band is not criticism.  But this is.  Even on its own terms, the music just isn’t very compelling.  The songs are banal, and Bergquist adds almost nothing in the way of interpretation.  She sings well but not interestingly.  If you were at a jazz club or a hotel bar, with a gin-and-tonic in one hand and your beau in the other, you’d have a pleasant enough time listening to songs like “Trouble,” “Entertaining Thoughts,” and the title track.  But you wouldn’t remember the songs later.  Later, you’d remember the times when (as on “I’m on a Roll,” “Who’ I Kiddin’ but Me,” and “If a Song Could Be President”) Bergquist’s delivery became too precious—almost downright twee.

For me—and know this: I’m a sucker for songs about love and desperation—what’s most unforgivable is to sing a song called “Desperate for Love” in a way that suggests neither love nor desperation.  And that’s true whether the singer works in jazz, Americana, or Hotel Bar Generic™.

My favorite song on the album is actually “Don’t Wait for Tom,” a song featuring Detweiler’s mildly quirky vocals.  The song is insubstantial, but Detweiler—a poor man’s Tom Waits—at least tried to have fun with it.

On a scale of 10, I’d give The Trumpet Child a three.

P.S. Despite this review, I’m looking forward to the album club’s February selection.  But wait—is there a musical equivalent of a Thomas Pynchon novel?

Because I’m just that much of a music geek, I try every year to put together a list of my 10 favorite albums of the year. Too often, I get bogged down and never actually winnow my list of, say, 23 albums down to 10. Other times, I manage to pick a Top 10 but then never actually finish writing the post, er, announcing them. This year, though, I was disciplined, and my list—of, hey, an actual 10!—is ready for you.

If you’re here, you probably already know that I enjoy country music, especially music on the Americana fringes. But you’d definitely know it after you see the list. It was certainly a good year for Americana.

So, in reverse order, here are my Top 10 albums of 2011.

10. Here We Rest, Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit – “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s this bar and this cover band, trying to fake their way through ‘Castles Made of Sand.’ That’s one thing I can’t stand.” That’s how the year’s best (really!) song, Jason Isbell’s “Codeine,” begins. The narrator’s complaints go on, culminating in a story about his drug-addicted ex, his broken heart, and, well, beautiful fiddle sounds. I find Isbell’s bluesy vocals almost irresistible, but I’m not resisting—especially when they’re paired with such a well-written, well-structured song. Also highly recommended: “Alabama Pines,” a complicated story of nostalgia for, and alienation from, one’s birthplace.

9. Hayes Carll’s KMAG YOYO (& other American stories) – When I grow up, I want to be a songwriter like Hayes Carll. The title track is written from the point-of-view of a 19-year-old soldier. It’s Carll’s appealing voice, sure, but he’s somehow channeling an entirely different being—a kid caught up in the manic craziness of one of our current wars. The superb “Another Like You,” a duet with Cary Ann Hearst, immediately follows. The back-and-forth between Carll and Hearst—playing two wildly incompatible honky-tonkers who are nevertheless about to hook up—makes me smile every time. And when I get to “Grateful for Christmas,” an earnest appreciation of getting together with aging family, I’m just downright impressed with Carll’s emotional range. So good!

8. Oh Fortune by Dan Mangan – Canada’s Dan Mangan first grabbed my attention with “Robots” (“robots need love, too,” you know?), a quirky, upbeat folk-pop song from his 2009 release Nice, Nice, Very Nice. So when I heard that Mangan’s follow-up was darker and moodier, I wasn’t sure I’d like it. But, oh, I did. With its lush orchestration, moody sounds, and brooding vocals about war and death, Oh Fortune demanded my attention. I’d be hard-pressed to pick just two or three songs to call to your attention; this is really an album that you should consider as a whole. But if you twisted my arm, I’d play the opening (“About as Helpful as You Can Be…”) and closing (“Jeopardy”) cuts for you before pronouncing Oh Fortune a real artistic breakthrough.

7. Gillian Welch’s The Harrow & The Harvest – In the eight years since her last release, Soul Journey, Gillian Welch’s work hasn’t changed all that much. The neo-Appalachian instrumentation, the masterful harmonies (with longtime partner David Rawlings), the strong songwriting—they’re all still there. Thank goodness! Even if I’d forgotten—just a little, I promise—how much we needed Welch, I’m grateful now for this album of small-scale gems. Standouts: “The Way It Will Be” and “The Way the Whole Thing Ends.”

If you’re on Spotify, you can listen here to The Harrow & the Harvest.

6. Blessed by Lucinda Williams – Confession: I’ve been taking Lucinda Williams for granted. I played Blessed at my first opportunity and liked it immediately. But when it came time to pick my favorite albums of the year, I just sort of assumed Blessed wouldn’t make the list. Williams’s best work occurred more than a decade ago, right? Why would it be in this list? Well, as I listened to this year’s contenders again (and again!), I kept nudging Blessed higher and higher. Williams’s voice is as strong as ever, and this is an album of songs, each one full of content and emotion. Blessed deserves to be on the list. I’m particularly drawn to the title track—and, on the other end of the emotional spectrum, “Buttercup,” a song of angry heartbreak.

5. Rip Tide, Beirut – At one time, Beirut was just another way of saying Zach Condon’s name. He was Beirut. But Condon has become a bandleader along the way, and Beirut has become a real band. It’s no ordinary band, of course. It’s a Balkan brass band gone Mariachi. Or vice versa. Or something. Nothing sounds quite like Beirut, anyway—which, of course, means I love it. You’ve surely heard “Santa Fe” by now. If you liked it, you’ll like “East Harlem” and “Vagabond,” too. (P.S. For what it’s worth, the best concert I found myself at in 2011—and I managed to attend a lot of concerts—was Beirut’s. See this band in person.)

4. Looping State of Mind, The Field – Words fail me. Maybe that’s just because I don’t listen to enough techno—or, rather, read enough reviews about it—to know what to say. What I do know is that The Field is Sweden’s Axel Willner and that the tracks on Looping are built around fairly straightforward repeating loops. These loops change and grow, becoming more and more melodic. It’s truly beautiful. If Looping doesn’t win this year’s Nordic Music Prize, it’ll be a travesty. My favorite tracks: “Arpeggiated Love” and the title track.

On Spotify, listen here to Looping State of Mind.

3. Chief by Eric Church – I’m genuinely surprised that a mainstream country album is so high on my list, but it’s hard to deny the quality of Chief. And I sure won’t. Admittedly, there’s some silly country-music posturing here—ok, we get that Church wants to be an outlaw!—but even the worst of that (maybe on “Keep On,” about a drinker who’s ready to fight for a woman he just met) is done with style and charm. What’s most appealing are the slow songs—of love and respect for staples as diverse as “Jack Daniels” and “Springsteen.” It’s a shame there isn’t more honky-tonk in today’s country music, but at least we fans have Eric Church.

2. Portugal. The Man’s In the Mountain in the Cloud – I’m not really sure why the reviews of Portugal. The Man’s In the Mountain weren’t more consistently positive. Maybe there was some sense that the long-established band’s major-label debut would necessarily have to be inferior or, at least, show telltale signs of selling out. That kind of thinking is hogwash, of course. What matters, anyway, is that In the Mountain contains gorgeous psychedelia, some of the best work ever by the band. And In the Mountain truly holds up as an album, with each track flowing naturally and logically into the next. The album sets a mood right away and sticks with it. I’ve been playing the heck out of it since the summer, and I won’t be stopping anytime soon. Favorite tracks: “So American” and “Senseless.”

1. Indestructible Machine by Lydia Loveless – You probably haven’t heard of Lydia Loveless, and that’s a downright shame. Barely 21, she already sounds like the second coming of Loretta Lynn. Loveless’s songs, anyway, are about the same kinds of things—womanizers, booze, men who won’t take the hint—that Lynn built a career on. But this Loretta Lynn has gone (cow)punk. “Bad Way to Go” starts off the album at breakneck pace, and the album barely lets up for the next 40 minutes. Along the way, there’s a stretch of three songs that, I guarantee, will pretty much take your breath away. Those songs—“How Many Women,” “Jesus Was a Wino,” and “Steve Earle”—are among the year’s absolute best. And the fact that they’re on the same album, one following the other, is stunning. Hands down, Indestructible Machine is the year’s best.

On Spotify, you can listen to Indestructible Machine here.

Honorable mentions: Brooklyn Rider Plays Philip Glass, Brooklyn Rider; Go-Go Boots, Drive-By Truckers; The Party Ain’t Over, Wanda Jackson; Little Red Boots, Lindi Ortega; New History Warfare Vol. 2, Colin Stetson; and Sleep with One Eye Open, Chris Thile & Michael Daves.