Best New Albums I Heard in December, 2024

I'm still not quite caught up - 2024 was an excellent year in music

Willie Nelson – The Last Leaf on the Tree. While I am always happy to hear Willie Nelson sing country music, I have a special love for the times he steps out of his comfort zone and tries something different. Encouraged by his son Micah, Willie covers songs by Tom Waits, Neil Young, Beck, Warren Zevon, Nina Simone, and the Flaming Lips. I’m kind of surprised that I only knew three of these songs (at least that I can remember). A number of them are somewhat somber meditations on life, mortality, and making the most of every day (I didn’t realize the Flaming Lips song had such a potent message). Nelson, at 91, has been singing about those subjects for a while now. Micah’s production gives us plenty of room for Dad to play guitar parts on Trigger, which is always what I want to hear. Maybe “Broken Arrow” would have benefited from eliminating the “Mr. Soul” part of the intro, which only makes sense in the context of Neil Young’s career. The two songs Micah had a hand in writing (one a co-write with his pop) reveal a strong compositional voice. Ending things with an obscure Willie original from decades ago was a nice decision, too.

Shirlette Ammons – Spectacles. This North Carolina woman can sing and rap with equal facility, though I like the music best when she leans into the hip hop thing. Actually, the grooves on this record harken back frequently to early 80s synth-funk, which makes me super happy. She’s not trying to recreate old rap styles, but mixing her contemporary flow with the retro influences of the music works wonders. Lots of guest appearances by people I’ve not encountered before, but Ammons is front and center most of the time. Two tracks including snippets of quotes from her friends on the subject of the title word do their best to instill thematic unity, but I’m not sure it qualifies as a concept album. There’s already a remix available of this record, but I swore off remixes after 1984, and I’m not looking to add another thing to pay attention to at this late date.

Various Artists – Can’t Steal My Fire: The Songs of David Olney. David Olney was one heck of a songwriter, though it took me a long time to realize how good he was (aside from the immediately obvious brilliance of “If My Eyes Were Blind”). Then, just before the pandemic shut us all down, he passed away on stage in the middle of a song. Now, as a singer, he was, as I said, a great songwriter, and many of his peers – both those blessed with the ability to hit the right notes on a regular basis and those who, like Olney, have had to figure out a way to make do with what they got – have put out this excellent collection of his best material. Honestly, the first seven tracks are worth the price of admission alone – Lucinda Williams, Steve Earle, the McCrary Sisters, Buddy Miller, the Steeldrivers, Willis Alan Ramsey, and Mary Gauthier perform the pick of a very good litter. Each of them puts a personal stamp on a great song, which is what you want from a tribute album. The rest of the record may not hit those highs, but some talented people sing some pretty good songs, and I can’t find a dud among seventeen cuts.

Isaiah Collier & the Chosen Few – The World is On Fire. Listening to this album, you could imagine it’s 1967 and the energy jazz musicians (mostly recording on Impulse at the time) were lamenting injustice and blowing anger and African-American solidarity with inspiration and passion. Except, of course, that the news stories which are dropped in on several cuts are all from recent years – African-Americans killed because they were black, along with anger at the Jan. 6 insurrection. Collier’s saxophones harken back to the furious power of late Coltrane, Archie Shepp, and Pharoah Sanders, though he rarely goes as far outside as any of those titans. Pianist Julian Davis Reid reminds me of McCoy Tyner, all pounding left hand and rippling right. And the rhythm section of bassist Jeremiah Hunt and drummer Michael Shekwoaga Ode are as hard and explosive as any I’ve heard.

The Dictators – The Dictators. When I was a sophomore in college, my friends and I spent many an hour in the cafeteria trading our favorite lyrics from the 1975 album The Dictators Go Girl Crazy. Over the years, some of those lyrics seem more sophomoric than they did at the time, but others hold up – songwriter/vocalist Andy Shernoff understood in a way few if any other performers ever did that it was possible to combine great rock’n’roll with a freaky and wild sense of humor. The band did a couple other records which were okay, but not very funny, and they would get back together in the 90s to do it again. But this new reunion album – even though only Shernoff and lead guitarist Ross the Boss remain from the original line-up – gets the mix of yuckin’ and rockin’ better than anything else in almost 50 years. The songs are much faster and more furious than the band was when they were young, but they are as catchy as ever. And the words can make me laugh when I pay attention enough to catch lines like “The drummer’s drunk / The singer’s bored / I can’t even remember the chords” in “Let’s Get the Band Back Together.” At the end, there’s a heart-felt and memorable tribute to the late Joey Ramone, too.

Messiah in Glytch – Geisha in the Machine. It says on their Bandcamp page “Messiah in Glytch would like to thank all hip hop not stuck in a box.” This group (or is it a person?) doesn’t even get near the box. I’ve not encountered anything else that sounds like this EP. The first (and best) song here is called “Confessions of a Chipped Wrist.” Over perhaps the most abrasive music bed in hip hop history – it’s built on a tight loop from traditional Japanese instruments I can’t identify, with ugly but effective guitar chords chomping down at times – the rap comes from a deep growling voice: “Perverted clicks in internet slits / They rent clits with a load collector / A bundle of chode erectors / Big dictators as court jesters.” It’s some sort of dark sexual sci-fi dig at consumerism. And it grasps hold of my ears every time I hear it. Four more songs show off sonic variety and even harder to parse lyrics, with “Three” sounding more like poetry over music than hip hop. Intriguing stuff.

The Fleshtones – It’s Getting Late (. . . And More Songs About Werewolves). Peter Zaremba and Keith Streng have been working together for 48 years, proudly flying the garage rock flag and carrying on the traditions they learned from the classic Nuggets compilation. I haven’t heard all their albums – Wikipedia lists 24 – but I’ve heard enough to know they’ve been extremely reliable. It’s hard for me to imagine staying so focused on a single approach for so long, and even harder to imagine remaining inspired the whole time. There are no unbelievably great songs on this record, but there are no bad ones, either. It’s all crunchy chords, singable choruses, wacky b-movie inspired lyrics, and energetic performances. You can’t have a bad time with a Fleshtones record.

Jamey Johnson – Midnight Gasoline. Johnson has been laying low for a long time – this is his first album in twelve years, his first with mostly original material in fourteen. He’s had time to let his beard grow even longer and have all the hair on his head turn white. He’s also come back with a rock solid collection of country songs that remind me why I fell in love with his music in the first place. He wonders how he became the bad guy in his own song, he makes earnest fun of trying to be sober in a world of honky tonks, he imagines an old age handing treats to grandchildren while paying $18 per gallon of gas, he puts himself in the role of God simply so he can hold the one he loves one more time, he even covers one of the greatest Charlie Daniels songs. All these stories are sung with clarity and truth; his baritone voice simply can’t sound phony. Great arrangements by whoever is playing behind him, too.

Kasey Chambers – Backbone. My favorite Australian country singer comes up with fifteen new cuts on this long but consistently excellent new record. It’s always great just to hear her sing – she has that quirky tone that flits up and down from soprano to alto without ever missing a note. She’s very expressive, and makes sure she captures the proper emotional feel for each song. Speaking of songs, they’re almost all earworms, with catchy choruses and singable melodies. She sings of her children, one of whom seems to be somewhat estranged. She sings with her ex-husband of how well they get along now that they’ve been divorced over ten years. She sings of desire for a glorious love while shoveling in as many Bruce Springsteen song title allusions she can come up with. She sings a great update of the Little Red Riding Hood fable. And, most unexpectedly, she sings Eminem’s classic rap “Lose Yourself” in front of a live audience, accompanied for half of the long cut only by a banjo, and then by a full rocking band as she inhabits the angst of the explosive song.

The Vondrukes – Too Many Monsters. They’ve downsized from the band I fell in love with here in St. Louis14 years back, but even with just two guitars, trumpet, bass, and drums, the Vondrukes rock hard and catchy as ever. I guess as long as old friends Bob McKee and Jeff Griswold are writing songs, they’ll find a way to make this band keep going. This album has more political songs than I remember, which can be a bit distracting from the propulsion and enthusiasm of the music. Or maybe it’s just that I wish they’d acknowledge that in their well meaning attempt to bridge the gap between city dwellers and small town folks, they kind of hand wave past some of the reasons for the political differences. But I don’t mind so much when they skimp on nuance in the anti-gun song. I still love hearing the record, though, because naivete combines with urgency to equal passion, and there aren’t any other bands that double up guitar licks with a trumpet while rocking out like this.

Lyrics Born – Goodbye, Sticky Rice. I can’t say he lives up to his claims of being “the funkiest rapper alive” but he does work with some of the funkiest music tracks this side of everything I heard on black radio stations in 1981 and ’82. This record got my attention in the first five seconds, with that low rumbling synth bass note holding and throbbing while the handclap/synched snare drum snaps hard beats. There are only three cuts here as powerful as this opener, but even the rest of the call-backs to old school rhythms are enough to get my body moving throughout the album. L.B. himself has a sinuous voice and a nice laid-back flow to go with the music. He’s got partying on his mind, while he reveals his favorite thing is to smoke some primo with his wife and then cook breakfast for dinner. He likes to brag, as many rappers do, but he seems to be down to earth at the same time, even admitting to loneliness and speaking to a therapist about it. All while the rhythms – in one song, riddims – offer nothing but support.

The Cowsills – Global. Back in 1998, four Cowsills – Bob and John from the very earliest days of the family group, along with Susan and Paul who were younger and joined as things went on – recorded and released a magnificent reunion record which, honestly, I never knew existed until recently. Now it’s back in print, along with three bonus tracks (on the digital and CD versions, anyway), and I can experience the power pop glories of these siblings harmonizing on delirious melodies over crackling and ringing guitars, bass, and drums. Susan was still in the Continental Drifters at this point, but she has always been ready to join her family for any project. I believe Bob wrote most of these songs – his melodic gifts and penchant for letting his brothers and sisters deliver infectiously dramatic hooks are all on display. It’s a record for all who love rock’n’roll with melody and harmony and energy front and center.

Kevin Gordon – The In Between. This Louisiana singer/songwriter/guitarist has been making cool records for more than 30 years. This new one was all written and mostly tracked a few years back when Gordon received a throat cancer diagnosis before he could put down most of his vocals. After getting through treatment, he was able to sing just exactly the way he did before, and we finally get to hear these strong songs which stick to the template he’s been working with for years. His guitar has a growling tone which matches his emphatic vocal approach. His songs tend to take multiple scenarios to ruminate on a bigger theme – the most obvious example here is his dramatic views of horrible racist killings and injustices in “Keeping My Brother Down” or the different life experiences he conjures up in his love letter to a lost gay acquaintance “Marion.” The rest of the songs are more personal – memories of people he’s known and things they’ve done, including an ex-girlfriend, an ex-wanna-be girlfriend, an uncle, and others. It’s a nicely evocative experience that never settles for comfort over empathy.

Dwight Yoakam – Brighter Days. Dude’s been making great records for more than 40 years now. I honestly don’t think he’s ever made anything not worth hearing in his life. But this one just might be exceptional even for his track record. I’m pretty sure the songs here are strong enough he could have sat around with an acoustic guitar and just one vocal track and they’d hold up. But he doesn’t do anything like that. Instead, he brings a crack band to the studio, and they fire up the country rock or rockin’ country that he’s made his trademark. (If you think about it, Yoakam has been sui generis his whole career – nobody else has started out with his powerhouse voice and his penchant for hooks and melody, and nobody else has imagined what Buck Owens might have sounded like backed by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.) There’s a point in the middle of “Can’t Be Wrong” where I started imagining this as the 21^st Century version of Elvis Presley at Sun Studios – Yoakam’s not discovering a new found freedom, as Elvis did, but he’s sure running with that exhilaration generated by those records. And then he goes and rocks up the Byrds classic “Time Between” before practically punking up “Keep on the Sunny Side.”

Ivo Perelman – Supernova. I keep having a blast digging into the impossibly prolific output of Brazilian saxophonist Ivo Perelman. This record is a saxophone quartet, with Perelman on tenor, Livio Trgatenberg on bass clarinet and alto sax, Rogerio Costa on soprano and alto sax, and Manu Falleiros on soprano and baritone saxophone. Right away, you can imagine a lot of sonic possibilities, as each track makes use of a different combination of reed sounds. The music is largely improvised, but clearly focused, with individual players free to set little melodies in play, or to riff over others staccato phrases, or to come together in searing high register chords, or to dance together, pushing and pulling each other’s ideas so you can’t tell which horn is which. The song titles are all from astrophysics, specifically types of stars. This is appropriate because these tracks burn hot and shine bright, even as they suck in all the energy around them.

Haley Heynderickx – Seed of a Seed. Impeccable finger picking guitar skills, a soprano voice of exquisite beauty, and a creative, inventive melodic sensibility – what more could I ask for from an artist new to me? I actually think the lyrics are probably pretty good, but my ear keeps getting distracted by something other than the words. That might be a fault of Heynderickx, though more likely it’s just the way I listen to things. Sometimes she reminds me a little of Joni Mitchell, occasionally of Laura Marling, once or twice of Waxahatchee, and even a little of Laurie Anderson. But Heynderickx is as original a singer and songwriter and guitarist as the way she spells her last name.

Jason Robinson – Ancestral Numbers II. I never heard the previous album, or, for that matter, anything by this saxophonist / composer. Somebody on the Internet recommended this record, and I was very happy to discover it. Robinson plays tenor and soprano saxophones and flute. He’s joined by Michael Dessen on trombone, Joshua White on piano, Drew Gress on bass, and Ches Smith on drums and occasional glockenspiel. The tunes are catchy whether the harmonies are inside or outside. There are solos, of course, but frequently different instruments add counterpoint to the one playing lead. This music doesn’t roar or churn, but it has depth and intensity nonetheless.

Kendrick Lamar – GNX. I don’t have a close relationship with Kendrick Lamar’s music – I’ve enjoyed what I’ve heard, but I’m not sure how much I know. So, when I read about people being disappointed with this new one compared to past work, I can’t relate. I can say this is a damn fine hip hop record, with creative and intoxicating rhythms on most of the cuts, and state-of-the-art rapping from the man himself. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve heard two better hip hop cuts back to back on any album than “Reincarnated” and “TV Off.” The first has Lamar imagining he was John Lee Hooker and/or Billie Holiday in previous lives, or at least characters similar to them, with some details that don’t match. The sound of this cut and the intensity of his rapping here are spectacular. “TV Off” combines bragging about his own success with urging others to act and avoid dangers all around them – again, the sound and intensity are intoxicating, with guest vocals from one Lefty Gunplay adding to the power of the cut. The album doesn’t always reach these levels of brilliance, but it never falls below being very good.

Meridian Brothers – Mi Latinoamérica Sufre. I’ve heard these guys before, but I think I’ve spent more time with this new album than the passing acquaintance I’ve had with some of their others. This band out of Colombia takes some getting used to. At first, I wondered if maybe there was a Latino contingent playing with the musicians in the Star Wars cantina scene. Then I started thinking maybe this was what early XTC might have sounded like if they’d grown up in Colombia. Ultimately, I just relaxed, and decided the wild pitch intervals and the chittering chattering guitar parts were just cool sounds that fit the cumbia and other Latin rhythms that serve as foundations. It’s catchy, it’s intensive, and it’s danceable (though it might require some old school New Wave moves mixed with salsa). Of course, I have no idea what they are singing about, but I definitely feel good whenever I hear this record.

The Bug Club – On the Intricate Inner Workings of the System. This English two person band with hired drummer just might be the finest punk-related outfit working today. They sound as if they could have come out in 1978 or 79 with a heavy dose of Wire minimalism and the indie scene’s sonic distortion. Their songs are catchier than I can possibly describe – this record is made to be sung along with at the top of your lungs. But beyond the repetition of lyrics and banging simplistic but irresistible riffs, the Bug Club is just plain funny. They look at the world, see the things they and everyone around them do, and write songs wondering why their new microwave doesn’t have the spinny plate that their old microwave had, or noting this sexual intercourse was just okay, or naming all the war movies they watch every night. They happen to be “The Best Looking Strangers in the Cemetary” – they’re “not dead, just drop dead gorgeous.” This band singlehandedly makes up for every half-assed generic punk record I’ve heard in the last thirty years.

White Denim – 12. I’ve had trouble for years trying to express what I like about this Austin, TX band. They write carefully crafted songs which draw from jazz, r&b, rock, and other influences. Melodies are vital to them, but they don’t let up on the groove in the rhythm section. They mostly play a mid-to-fast tempo, but they can slow down for something quite lovely for a ballad. Lyrics seem smart, but don’t call attention to themselves the way the sound and structure of the music does. This new one is both more of what they’ve done for a couple decades now, and fresh explorations of music which stretches their approach in new directions.