This is Fifty Second Week.

This has become one of my favorite annual traditions, and I hope it’s as much fun for you as it is for me. I hear so much music every year that it would be impossible to write reviews for everything, so I came up with this idea that allows me to rip through a ton of them in a couple hours. I have 52 records sitting in front of me, and I plan to give myself 50 seconds to review each one. I have a timer that will emit a loud, shrill tone when we get to zero, and when I hear that sound, I will stop writing, no matter where I am in a particular review. Middle of a sentence? Middle of a word? Doesn’t matter. Pencils down.

This is also my way of waving goodbye to the year. While everyone else is counting down to 2015, I’ll be here counting down from 50. (Not really. I’m writing this a couple weeks early. But I couldn’t resist the turn of phrase.) Are you ready? Good.

This is Fifty Second Week.

Alt-J, This is All Yours

That this band is popular at all anywhere astounds me. They write patient, slowly unfolding songs based on atmosphere more than anything else. This second record is more of a refinement of the first, and it’s really beautiful, if you’re in the right mood. Love any song called “Gospel of John Hurt,” too.

Basement Jaxx, Junto

The long-running dance party duo changes absolutely nothing on Junto. It’s still old-school beats and samples and booty-shaking. A second disc is more of the same. Good for what it is, though.

David Bazan and the Passenger String Quartet, Volume One

I love that Volume One there, because it means we might get more of this. Familiar Bazan songs are given new shapes with the strings, and they become even more beautiful. If you thought Bazan hid his razor-sharp words behind sweetness before…

The Black Lantern, We Know the Future

I bought this for Prayer Chain guitarist Andy Prickett, and while it’s nowhere near his pedigree, it is pretty fun. Loud, piercing punky songs sung by a woman in a shrill yet awesome voice. This is fast, stomping stuff.

Camper Van Beethoven, El Camino Real

A companion piece to their last record, this is more prime Camper Van goodness courtesy of David Lowery. These songs are in no way second-place also-rans. They’re just as intricate, just as biting and just as hummable as those on the previous disc. I should have reviewed this.

Julian Casablancas and the Voidz, Tyranny

This should have gotten a WTF Award. I don’t know what the hell it is. It’s more than an hour of electro-trash awfulness, and Casablancas only got to make this thing because he’s in the Strokes. I hope that free pass runs out soon, because this shit is absolutely unlistenable.

Celldweller, End of an Empire: Time

Klayton is releasing End of an Empire, his new Celldweller album, in chapters. This one is pretty great, combining pop, industrial, metal and dubstep in some fascinating ways. The title track is one of my favorite Celldweller pieces, and the remixes are really good.

Celldweller, End of an Empire: Love

The second chapter is longer, but less amazing than the first, specifically due to the juvenile and vulgar “Heart On.” But the remixes and instrumentals are again pretty great, and the fact that this chapter is 90 minutes long makes it a winner to me.

Mark Chadwick, Moment

The second solo album from the co-frontman of the Levellers is leagues better than the first. Here are some classic Chadwick folk-rock songs, with searing lyrics and that immediately recognizable voice. This one’s definitely worth picking up.

Coldplay, Ghost Stories Live 2014

If you still have doubts that Ghost Stories is intended as a single unbroken thought, here is a live album and DVD featuring nothing but that album played in sequence. It’s not worth it for casual fans, as it sounds exactly like the record, but for those who love this one (like me), it’s a good watch.

Jonathan Coulton, JoCo Live

Over the past few years, Jonathan Coulton has truly come into his own as a songwriter, and the evidence is all here. This blistering live set with a full electric band shows off his versatility as a writer, jumping from sweet observations like “Glasses” to geeky sing-alongs like “Re: Your Brains” with aplomb.

Mike Doughty, Live at Ken’s House

Who would have thought that covering his old band’s songs would revitalize Mike Doughty? Live at Ken’s House is all Soul Coughing tunes reimagined, but Doughty sounds alive and invested in ways he hasn’t in a long time. You can hear that continue on Stellar Motel, his best album in years.

Enuff Z’Nuff, Covered in Gold

This is more of a compilation of scattered tracks than a new album, but it shows off the versatility of this long-lived power pop band. They do a fine job covering the Beatles, Nirvana, Cheap Trick, David Lee Roth and the theme song to The Greatest American Hero, believe it or not.

The Fray, Helios

The Fray gets louder and better than they’ve been in a while, thanks to an injection of rock into their staid piano-pop sound. “Love Don’t Die” was the best single this band has ever released. When I say it’s a good Fray record, that doesn’t mean it’s a good record, but it’s good for them.

The Ghost of a Sabertooth Tiger, Midnight Sun

Sean Lennon impresses for the first time with this weird psych-pop project. It’s not bad, and I’d like to hear more, but I can barely remember what these songs sound like.

Hammock, The Sleepover Series Volume 2

Another collection of beautiful beatless drones from Hammock, who weave guitars and synth sounds into thick and lovely atmospheres. This one has a 30-minute track that is sublime. Perfect to lull even insomniacs to sleep, in the best of ways.

Emerson Hart, Beauty in Disrepair

The Tonic frontman sticks to what he knows best on his second solo album, which is straight-ahead acoustic-based pop songs. Nothing here is bad, but nothing here is particularly memorable either. I do still like his voice, though.

Jon Hopkins, Asleep Versions

I’ve never reviewed a Jon Hopkins record. Sad. The electronic maestro here presents four songs from last year’s Immunity in stretched out and ambient forms, the better to send you to dreamland. They sound great, as always.

Bruce Hornsby, Solo Concerts

Bruce is one of my piano-playing idols, so the chance to hear two CDs of him behind the ivories is like gold. Nothing disappoints here, particularly when he sends these songs into more dissonant waters and really shows what a tremendous player he is.

The Horrors, Luminous

Less another evolution than a refinement, this album builds on the swirling cacophony of Skying and darkens it up. It’s still pretty great stuff, confident and propulsive, and “I See You” is the best seven-minute single you’ll hear all year.

Michael Jackson, Xscape

I wish this hadn’t happened. But given that, it could have been a lot worse. These gussied-up demos rarely sound like finished songs, but it’s nice to hear Jackson’s voice again, and the producers of choice rarely push this into embarrassing territory. I know there’s more to come, and I’m already despairing.

Jars of Clay, Jars 20

To celebrate their 20th anniversary, Jars asked fans to pick 20 songs and then reimagined them as acoustic numbers. The changes are not as dramatic as you’d think, but it’s nice to hear so many of these songs together, and played by an older and wiser band.

Kele, Trick

Second solo record from the Bloc Party frontman is much like the first, based in pulsing, low-key electronica. This is good stuff, and Kele Okereke is still one of the finest frontmen around, but there isn’t anything here as arresting as “Tenderoni.”

Lenny Kravitz, Strut

It’s right there in the title. This steaming pile of clichés is Lenny’s return to sexy funk, and he’s just not very good at this. Songs like “Sex” and “She’s a Beast” are exactly as cringe-worthy as you’d think.

KXM

Here’s an unlikely supergroup: Dug Pinnick of King’s X, George Lynch and the drummer from Korn. What could this possibly sound like? Well… like straight-ahead groove-metal with Pinnick’s soulful yet frayed voice on top. Meh.

Hamilton Leithauser, Black Hours

How did Hamilton Leithauser transform that howl of his into such a supple and warm instrument? The answer is slowly, over several Walkmen albums that led to this solo bow full of string sections and sweet little tunes. It’s actually grand.

Manchester Orchestra, Hope

The companion piece to Cope features every song from that record played acoustically. It’s fun to hear a mirror version of these kickass rock tunes, but not essential. Enjoyable enough.

Mastodon, Once More Round the Sun

Mastodon’s evolution continues, as they present another record of stomping rock-metal with psychedelic overtones. I miss the days of Leviathan and Blood Mountain, but I have to admit that this new, tight Mastodon sound is pretty great as well. Better than their last one.

Blake Mills, Heigh Ho

Second album from this critically acclaimed songwriter and guitar virtuoso. I enjoyed this a great deal, particularly “Half Asleep” and “Don’t Tell Our Friends About Me,” but it slipped out of my memory as soon as it was finished playing. Still, would revisit.

Peter Murphy, Lion

Murphy’s tenth album continues the hot streak of Ninth, setting his still-shiver-inducing lowlowlow voice atop guitar-heavy rock towers. If you ever liked Murphy before, you should give Lion a go.

Karen O, Crush Songs

20 minutes of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs frontwoman noodling around with an old tape deck. This is not even worth the recyclable packaging it came in.

Christopher Owens, A New Testament

That’s a bold title for an album of pretty typical country-folk from the former Girls frontman. I like the opener, “My Troubled Heart,” but after 12 tracks of simple chords and simpler sentiments, this starts to feel like a betrayal of the man’s talent. I want more out of him.

Owen Pallett, In Conflict

Another complex and fascinating piece of work from the string arranger to the indie stars. Pallett layers his own violins atop one another to create striking songs of surprising power. This one deserved a full review.

Real Estate, Atlas

Aw, this band is adorable. Chiming guitars, sweetly nostalgic songs, not an ounce of angst or venom to be found. Perfect music for a rainy Sunday afternoon, though it will waft out into the air and disappear before you know it.

Philip Selway, Weatherhouse

What does it say about Radiohead that their drummer is the only one who remembers how to craft a song? This second solo record is more atmospheric pop from Selway, who has a serviceable voice and an ear for melody that his bandmates could stand to make more use of. The best damn Radiohead-related anything since Selway’s last record.

Sisyphus

A rap album masterminded by Sufjan Stevens? Why didn’t I ever review this? Not sure. It’s a mostly successful and yet mostly baffling effort that pairs him with Serengeti and Son Lux, laying down rhymes on some Sufjan-y soundscapes.

Skrillex, Recess

First full album from the dubstep superstar is surprisingly diverse, but just as juvenile as anything he’s done. The latter half contains some convincingly chill tunes that point in a more grown-up direction, so I’ll keep listening.

Snowbird, Moon

Simon Raymonde teams up with a clear-voiced woman to create shoegaze-y songs of often stunning beauty. Sound familiar? This is Cocteau 2.0 in a lot of ways, with Stephanie Dosen filling in for Elizabeth Fraser nicely.

St. Vincent

Someday I will review a full St. Vincent album, and maybe get at the heart of why, despite the fact that I admire Annie Clark to the ends of the earth and think she’s remarkably talented, I just don’t like her stuff all that much. This record is pretty good, but not earth-shatteringly good like people say.

Stranger Kings

Another new Northern Records band starring Holly Nelson, Herb Grimaud and Eric Campuzano. If those names mean nothing to you, the low rock Stranger Kings makes might not resonate as much. This is a decent first effort, and it’s nice to hear Nelson sing again.

Sun Kil Moon, Benji

The first of two records here that every critic adored, and I never bothered to review. This is a pretty typical Sun Kil Moon album, save for the devastating stories that populate the lyrics, and it’s beautiful and disturbing in all the ways Mark Kozelek usually is. Not sure why it was so acclaimed.

Chris Taylor, Daylight

New record from the former Love Coma frontman was completed quickly, and you can kind of tell. The songs are decent, particularly “Set Our Sail,” but the recording is bare bones, and the album has a ramshackle feel about it. Not bad if you like this sort of thing.

Temples, Sun Structures

Maybe my favorite thing relegated to Fifty Second Week this year. Temples plays ‘60s-inspired pop and rock, and they do it with flair and verve. I liked this record a great deal, and I can’t quite figure out why I haven’t said so before now.

Chris Thile and Edgar Meyer, Bass and Mandolin

Chris Thile has had quite the couple of years, with Nickel Creek reforming and Punch Brothers set to return. This set with bassist Edgar Meyer is the cherry on top, a fine, fine set of performances that puts two virtuosos together and comes up with gold.

Tweedy, Sukierae

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Various Artists, The Art of McCartney

This celebration of Macca’s wonderful songs, starring everyone from Billy Joel to Brian Wilson to the Cure to Def Leppard to Perry Farrell, is somewhat marred by the decision to use session musicians to slavishly recreate these songs instead of putting new stamps on them. Still, good, good songs.

Various Artists, Nashville Outlaws: A Tribute to Motley Crue

A country tribute to the Crue? Of course I’m gonna buy that. The idea of this record is a lot more interesting than the reality of it, alas. But many of these blues-metal songs make the jump to twangy town a lot better than you’d expect.

The Vaselines, V for Vaselines

The renaissance continues for these foul-mouthed rockers. Their second album since reuniting is the same as the first, just a little bit cleaner and more produced. It’s snaky sexy romps on simple, pounded guitar.

Rufus Wainwright, Live from the Artists Den

This looks like a bargain basement knockoff CD, but it’s truly excellent, showcasing Wainwright’s Out of the Game live show. He’s a consummate performer riding his best set of songs in many years, so of course this is gonna be awesome.

The War on Drugs, Lost in the Dream

Here’s the other critically adored record that didn’t make much of an impression on me. I did include it in early drafts of my top 10 list in March, but it fell off quickly because it’s just so simple and repetitive. It’s not beer commercial rock, but it does kind of put me to sleep.

We Shot the Moon, The Finish Line

Yet more decent yet unremarkable piano-pop from Jonathan Jones. When he wants to stretch out, he’s something special. When he writes a bunch of simple little ditties like these, he’s a dime a dozen. I will buy the next one, though, because I believe in him.

Steven Wilson, Cover Version

Collection of six covers and six originals from the Porcupine Tree frontman. This shows the range of his influences nicely, and caps off with “An End to End,” a song that stands with the best of Wilson’s solo work. He chooses Alanis’ “Thank You,” not Led Zeppelin’s, which is fascinating.

And that, as they say, is that. Hope you had fun. I’ll be taking next week off, but diving back in with Year 15 on January 14. Thank you again, more than I can say, for reading this thing I do. Have a very happy new year.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

It’s Christmas Eve, and that means you don’t have time for my babble. You’re here to see which 10 albums made this year’s list, and you’re fitting this in between last-minute shopping and caroling with the neighbors. I appreciate even a little of your time on this hectic day, so I won’t waste any of it droning on and on about my choices this year, except to reiterate what I said last week: in a year with so many great options, I picked the 10 that resonate most with me, personally. If you don’t see one of your favorites here, check the honorables from last week. (Unless your favorites are Sun Kil Moon, the War on Drugs or Run the Jewels. Those aren’t here.)

Ladies and gentlemen, my 10 favorite records of 2014.

#10. Andrea Dawn, Doll.

Yes, Andrea is a good friend of mine. No, that did not play into my decision to include this album here. Yes, I expect you to be suspicious of that statement. But also yes, I expect one top-to-bottom listen of Doll will eradicate those suspicions. This is an extraordinary album, a song cycle that leads you from the first blush of romance to the bitter ashes of regret, each song sparking off the last. Dawn’s writing has grown to match her piano playing and her always-remarkable voice, and these songs bloom and burst with honesty, joy and pain. Taken on its own, “Love Always” is one of the year’s best laments. In the context of this record, though, it’s one of the most heartbreaking things I can imagine. That’s the mark of a great record – when each song is wonderful by itself, but it rises to another level when taken as a whole. Doll is one of those records, and one that everyone should hear. Go here.

#9. Sloan, Commonwealth.

Believe it or not, this album has actually dropped a lot in my estimation, but not enough to keep it from the list. There are only good and great Sloan records, and Commonwealth is a great one, an experiment in crafting a whole from the sum of its parts. Each of Sloan’s four singing songwriters took a side of this double album, writing to their own strengths, and the result is a smashing tour through the four personalities that make up this Canadian institution. My favorite sides belong to Chris Murphy, who penned the most infectious songs – “Carried Away,” “Misty’s Beside Herself” and “You Don’t Need Excuses to Be Good” – and Andrew Scott, who took the challenge of filling an entire side with an 18-minute suite called “Forty-Eight Portraits.” Commonwealth is an ambitious effort, and a near-complete success (only Patrick Pentland lets the side down). It’s proof that even 23 years into their run, Sloan can keep on finding new ways to be one of the most interesting bands in the world.

#8. Coldplay, Ghost Stories.

Yeah, get out the pitchforks, I don’t care. This album resonated with me like few others this year. Coldplay’s sixth record sets a consistent melancholy tone, inspired by frontman Chris Martin’s very public breakup, but in so doing, it takes the band’s sound through avenues they have never explored. They rarely sound like themselves here, most notably on “Midnight,” a slice of shivery electronic moodiness that is one of my favorite things from this year. Only Martin’s weak lyrics keep this album from soaring ever higher, but even so, this record contains his most honest and heartfelt work. These nine songs should not sit comfortably next to one another on an album. That they not only do that, but in fact play like a single thought is utterly remarkable. Ghost Stories is a Coldplay album like no other, and the one that I have revisited more times than any other. I think it’s the best thing they have made.

#7. Elbow, The Take Off and Landing of Everything.

British ambient-rock gods Elbow are incapable of bad work. They’ve never made an album that deserves less than devotion, and yet they’ve never landed one in my top 10 list, for reasons unfathomable. I’m happy to break that streak here. The Take Off and Landing of Everything is the band’s most luminous, most beautiful work, from the whispered opening of “This Blue World” to the fragile conclusion of “The Blanket of Night.” Guy Garvey’s voice remains one of the smoothest instruments you’ll find, and the band stretches out here, giving their ideas ample room to breathe and develop naturally. There were few songs as emotionally affecting as “Real Life (Angel)” and “My Sad Captains” this year, but the prize goes to “New York Morning,” an ever-unfolding circle of light that envelops you in its warmth. If they continue to make albums of this quality, this won’t be the last time you see Elbow in the top 10 list.

#6. Steve Taylor and the Perfect Foil, Goliath.

It’s been 20 years since Steve Taylor graced us with a new set of songs, and I’m trying not to let that fact color my assessment of Goliath. This honestly is just one of the best rock records I’ve heard in years. The Perfect Foil is a supergroup backing up Taylor, one of the most riveting lyricists and frontmen I’ve had the pleasure of hearing, and these songs, crafted for the band, are sharp, strong, powerful things. The first ten tracks comprise a full-on kickass slice of rock, tumbling from one stellar melody and witty insight to the next, and the finale, a six-minute epic called “Comedian,” turns the entire album on its ear. This is vital, explosive stuff, and it validates my longtime love of Taylor and his work. This is the year’s most welcome return to me, and it’s a wonderful, cranky, blistering, funny, brilliant thing.

#5. Dan Wilson, Love Without Fear.

Do you want to learn how to write a peerless pop song? Step one is to buy this album. Step two is to listen and listen and glean every single thing you can from it. Dan Wilson is a master of his craft, which is why so many people, from Adele to Spoon to John Legend to Taylor Swift to Mike Doughty, have tapped into his talent for their own records. That leaves Wilson with little time for his own music – this is only his second solo record, seven years after his first. Love Without Fear is a rare treat, and it’s practically perfect, from the ringing strains of the title track to the witty and heartbroken “A Song Can Be About Anything” to the skipping “Your Brighter Days” to the epic closer “Even the Stars Are Sleeping.” And somewhere in the middle there, Wilson gives us “Disappearing,” the year’s prettiest sad song, and yet one more feather in the cap of this songwriter’s songwriter.

#4. Husky, Ruckers Hill.

Who knows if American audiences are ever going to get to own a copy of Ruckers Hill, the phenomenal second album from Australian band Husky. So far, it’s on iTunes here, but on CD and vinyl only in the band’s native country. But if U.S. music fans do get their hands on this, they’re going to love every second of it. Husky Gawenda has blossomed into a truly excellent writer, caressing his folksy epics into new shapes before your ears. Husky’s sound combines elements of Simon and Garfunkel and Fleet Foxes, ending up with a rustic yet modern feel that snakes its way around these lovely, deceptively intricate tunes. “I’m Not Coming Back” remains a favorite, but every song on Ruckers Hill shows growth from the band’s already impressive debut, and officially heralds Husky as one of the best new acts out there. If you can find this, snatch it up without hesitation.

#3. The Choir, Shadow Weaver.

You all know that the phrase “new Choir album” is one of my favorites in the English language. Even so, this album is stunning, one of the long-running band’s very best. Funded through a Kickstarter campaign, Shadow Weaver finds every element of the Choir’s sound gelling, and every minute of it bursts with inspiration. The band has rarely delivered a knockout punch like “What You Think I Am,” and even more rarely followed up with a genuine epic like “It Hurts to Say Goodbye.” “The Soul of Every Creature Cries Out” is exactly the kind of spiritual yearning song the Choir does better than any other band, and is one of my favorite 2014 moments. I am always beyond grateful to get a new Choir album, but to get one this good, one that stands up with the best work they have ever done, one that even brings them to new and magical places – well, grateful barely seems to cover it.

#2. U2, Songs of Innocence.

I wish Bono and company had not tried to give free copies of Songs of Innocence to every iTunes user earlier this year, but not for the reason you think. I wish it hadn’t happened because the ridiculous, privileged, invented furor over this so-called invasion of privacy overshadowed the fact that Songs is the finest U2 album since Achtung Baby. If you deleted it without listening to it, you missed out on the most riveting, vital, alive set of songs this band has delivered since the glory days. The sound of an invigorated, emotional, flat-out powerful U2 is like no other sound, and on this record, they dig deeper than they have in years. The soaring moments, like “Song for Someone” and “Iris,” soar higher, and the grittier songs, like the remarkably dark “Raised By Wolves” and the stunning “Cedarwood Road,” sink in more fully. Songs can serve as a summary of everything U2 has ever been good at, from the classic “Every Breaking Wave” to the electro-crawl of “Sleep Like a Baby Tonight,” and taken as a whole, it’s about holding on to the wide-eyed past. But when U2 decides to sound like U2, there isn’t a single one of the hundreds of imitators who can come close to them. And on Songs of Innocence, they sound like U2 in ways they haven’t in two decades. This album is a beautiful gift, and as Bono sings on “The Miracle,” we get so many things we don’t deserve.

Which brings us to my top pick. And it should be no real surprise.

#1. Imogen Heap, Sparks.

Imogen Heap is a genius. This has been true for a long time, and hints of the breadth of her talent have slipped out before. But Sparks is the record I’ve been waiting for, the one that fully explores just how astonishingly brilliant this woman is. No record this year has a story like Sparks – it was created specifically as a way of shaking up Heap’s life, sending her out of her comfort zone, dropping her in new and unfamiliar places (often other countries) to see what she could do. Each song has an origin tale, each one a fable of renewed confidence and exploded possibility. Sparks is the sound of a true original discovering just what she can do.

And no record this year has the scope, ambition and sheer go-for-broke-ness of Sparks. Heap traveled to the homes of more than a dozen fans to record their various pianos for the remarkable opener “You Know Where to Find Me.” She layered her voice a million times for the insane a cappella piece “The Listening Chair,” a song she will add to every seven years until she dies. She traveled to Hangzhou, China, and recorded random people on the street, stitching them together into the background of “Xizi She Knows,” one of the year’s best songs. She worked in audio 3-D on “Propellor Seeds,” collaborated with a host of unlikely musicians (including Indian composers Vishal-Shekhar on the great “Minds Without Fear”), and invented an entirely new way to play her electronic instruments for “Me The Machine.”

This should be a mess, but incredibly, even with all these separate ambitions pulling at it, Sparks flows beautifully as an album. Heap’s songs are always at the center of her experiments, grounding everything, and on this record, she’s written her very best. Taken as a whole, it’s a testament not only to her blossoming brilliance, but to the spirit of adventure, to the wonders people can achieve if they close their eyes and leap. This is the kind of album I live for. The sheer amount of work that went into realizing Sparks – Heap hunched over her keyboards and computers, tweaking every element a thousand times – is evident in the astonishing amount of detail woven into the electro-organic sound. But it’s the inspiration – the spark, if you will – behind everything that truly makes this record. This is the sound of freedom, of possibility, of a wide-open universe, and one woman determined to see it all.

And that’s it. For those keeping track, this is column number 717, and we’re nearing the end of my 14th year writing this thing. As always, I cannot thank you enough for reading and for supporting this labor of love. Next week is my annual Fifty Second Week, which will put a bow on 2014. I hope you all have a very merry holiday season. I’m grateful for you all.

See you in line Tuesday morning… and to all a good night.

Well. That was certainly a year.

It’s interesting that even with so many changes and upheavals, both good and bad, a year can still feel, here at the end, like it flew by in the space of heartbeats. I was told early on that time speeds up as you get older, and it’s absolutely true. Appreciate every moment, you young kids. Take it from me, a middle-aged balding guy who wears dress slacks and button-downs to his 8:30-5:30 job and… yeah, I know, I wouldn’t have listened to me when I was your age either.

But it’s true. 2014 seemed to melt away before I knew what was happening, even though parts of it felt endless while I was living through them. I can’t pretend this is a new observation – hey, did you know time is relative? – but at this time of year, I’m always struck anew by my own experience of it. And I remain grateful that I have this column, which serves as a way to mark out all that time. I can look back over the 51 entries from this year (including the two that will follow this one) and see that yes, I actually lived through all these weeks, even though they blend together in my memory.

I mark my days with music. I always have. This year’s crop was so good, so diverse, so surprising that even my honorable mentions are brilliant. Really, it’s been that kind of year, and I don’t suppose I realized it until I took stock for this column and the next one. There’s a particular thing that happens in years when there’s an abundance of good material – the ones that rise to the top for my list end up conforming more to my personal taste than in years when there are fewer clear winners to choose from. My taste generally runs to the pretty, the melodic and the intricate, and my top pick certainly epitomizes all three of these things.

So there are records on the official list that are just as good as the albums I’m about to list off here, the ones that are receiving honorable mentions. In this case, an honorable isn’t like a patronizing pat on the head. It’s an acknowledgement that there really were about 25 albums worthy of my list this year, and I can only name 10, and I’m going with the ones that mean the most to me. I’m about to rattle off the names of 17 records, and I wouldn’t argue with anyone suggesting any of them as one of the 10 best.

I loved this year, in case it’s not apparent.

Longtime readers know how this works, but for the benefit of newbies (and I personally know a couple of you), let me run down my rules for the year-end list. There’s really only one, but there are a bunch of corollaries and ramifications of that rule. Here it is: only full-length albums of new original material released between January 1 and December 31 are considered for the list. That means no live albums, no compilations of previous material, no EPs (although the definition of EP and LP has blurred considerably), and no covers projects. It also excludes soundtrack compilations and various artists collections, since they don’t meet this particular definition of album. Only new full-length statements may apply.

Every year, that rule excludes at least one record I think should be honored. This year, it’s the new double-disc collection from the 77s and Michael Roe, called Gimme a Kickstart and a Phrase or Two. It’s an absolutely delightful run through 20 covers, half with Roe’s long-running, amazing band the 77s and half with Roe on his own, making magic with an acoustic guitar. Roe’s tender take on the Waterboys’ “How Long Will I Love You” is one of my favorite things from 2014, and the fact that it’s ineligible for the top 10 list shouldn’t dissuade you from hearing it.

On to the honorables? Here goes.

After the wonder that was A Church That Fits Our Needs, I paid special attention to Lost in the Trees this year, and while their third record, Past Life, didn’t quite scale the same heights, its spare, haunted tones definitely left an impression. Past Life came out in February and has held onto my heart since. Neneh Cherry’s Blank Project, her first album in 18 years, also hit in February, and nothing else this year ended up sounding like it. Minimal, dark, almost difficult, and yet dazzling, Blank Project hopefully signifies a long-lasting return for this singular artist.

There were a couple records I didn’t get to this year. But just because I couldn’t fit in full-length reviews for them, that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve mention. Specifically, Sharon Van Etten’s latest and strongest, Are We There, delighted with its wind-swept folk and hard-won optimism. And The Soil and the Sun delivered another intricate, swirling set of one-world music with Meridian, perhaps the strongest argument this year for the complete dissolution of genre barriers. I plan to get to both of these not long into the new year, so look for those reviews.

Jenny Lewis teamed up with Ryan Adams to create The Voyager, the album on which her entire career dropped into focus. It’s her sharpest set of songs, and her most transcendent record. But she didn’t deliver the biggest surprise on the female singer-songwriter front. That belongs to Tori Amos, who – for the first time in longer than I care to remember – invested completely in one of her albums. Unrepentant Geraldines contains half a dozen songs I would rank with her best stuff, and the fact that those songs are accompanied by a bunch of lesser material dims this record’s light, but doesn’t extinguish it. I’m excited to hear what she does next, for the first time in ages.

The same goes for Weezer, who stunned me with the quality of Everything Will Be Alright in the End. It’s not quite as good as their early stuff, but it’s right up there – they sound alive, like they’re taking their silliness seriously for the first time in a while. Also revitalized is Aimee Mann, who teamed with Ted Leo to form The Both. Their self-titled record manages the difficult task of taking two songwriters with long-established styles and sending them both into new directions. It’s a great, great pop record, and “You Can’t Help Me Now” will go down as one of Mann’s finest.

The quiet ones crept up on us this year with some tremendous work. Ben Howard’s second album, I Forget Where We Were, is a confident stroll through spacey, atmospheric melancholy. And Over the Rhine gave us their third holiday-themed record, Blood Oranges in the Snow, and it plays like a third disc of their rustic masterpiece Meet Me at the Edge of the World. Minus a pair of covers, this album is all original winter-themed tunes, and with “Let It Fall” they penned my anthem of the year.

Now we get to records that held onto the list longer than any others. I can’t even explain how surprised I was when I first heard Stay Gold, the third and (by far) best album by Swedish sister act First Aid Kit. This record is glorious, swelling with absurdly lovely harmonies and the best set of songs the pair has written yet. And neither of these girls are even 25 yet, so stay tuned. At the opposite end of the age spectrum is Canadian icon Leonard Cohen, who turned 80 this year. His 13th record, Popular Problems, continues his remarkable creative resurgence, matching spiritual laments like “Born in Chains” with cynical crawls like “Nevermind.”

And then there is D’Angelo, who surprised me and everyone else by returning after 14 years with Black Messiah, an album that was announced on a Thursday and made available on the following Monday. December 15 is seriously cutting it close to be included in the year-end lists, and I have only heard this record a handful of times – not enough to know if it belongs among the 10 best, or where to rank it in that list. I know it’s damn good, good enough to deserve at least the honorable mention I am giving it. But I am not ready to review or rank it quite yet. Look for a full examination of this thing after the New Year. I’ll just have to be comfortable with keeping it off the list for now. (The moral of the story? Release your masterpiece earlier in the year, dude.)

Finally, we have the three Number Elevens. I wrote drafts of the top 10 list with all three of these records on it, and should anyone quibble with my bottom three choices, I wouldn’t argue that any of these three honorables could go in their places. First up is the Roots, who continued a long hot streak with …And Then You Shoot Your Cousin. A genuine rap opera, this record packs a ton of remarkable arrangements and bizarre sonic choices into its 30 minutes, at times going full-on Frank Zappa, but never leaving the core of the Roots behind. It’s an extraordinary piece of work, easily the best rap record I heard in 2014.

Nickel Creek made a much-heralded return with A Dotted Line, and though this record is similarly brief, it runs through just about everything that makes the combination of Chris Thile, Sara Watkins and Sean Watkins great. They delivered a killer pop song with “Destination,” a pair of intricate bluegrass instrumentals, an out-of-this-world cover of Mother Mother’s “Hayloft,” and, with “Where Is Love Now,” one of the most haunting pieces of music this year. It’s one of 2014’s most welcome returns, and I hope it’s not a temporary one.

And at the last, there is Beck, who once held the number one spot on the list. Morning Phase is a deeper, fuller sequel to his introspective Sea Change, and it sparkles with melancholy. Beck made his name as a pop chameleon, but he’s never better than when he channels Nick Drake and writes from the heart. Songs like “Say Goodbye” and “Blackbird Chain” and the luminous “Waking Light” were among the year’s most beautiful gifts. It will probably be a while before Beck puts down the drum machines and gives us something like this again, so Morning Phase is a record to treasure.

OK, that’s it for the honorables. Pretty damn good group, though, right? Next week, the 2014 top 10 list. Be here. Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am, and Twitter at www.twitter.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

I’m not going to lie to you. I’m going to cheat a little this week.

This column, the one before the big year-end extravaganza begins, is generally reserved for catching up with the stragglers, records released in November and December that just barely sneak in. That was the plan this year as well, and I had a few I was going to discuss – Cracker’s new double album Berkeley to Bakersfield, for example, which is the first Cracker album I’ve bought in years. Wu-Tang Clan’s A Better Tomorrow, their umpteenth comeback. She and Him’s new Classics, the first one without a volume number. Live records from Coldplay and Leonard Cohen.

And then a funny thing happened. I didn’t find time to listen to any of them.

They’re all sitting right over there, in a nice neat stack, along with the new Celldweller and Donnie Vie CDs. Just sitting there. It’s been a ridiculously busy time for me, as it often is with year’s end looming, and time has kept on ticking away. So this grand plan I had to round up all of these year-end releases in one mega-column before the top 10 list isn’t going to happen. But don’t fret, because I did listen to one of the new releases, and in my mind, it’s the most important of them. (Your mileage may, and probably will, vary.)

It’s Monuments to an Elegy, by the Smashing Pumpkins.

Of course, the Smashing Pumpkins is kind of a misnomer these days, unless you agree with Billy Corgan that his voice and vision were the only things that ever mattered. I’ve never felt that way – the Pumpkins were a band at the beginning, despite the fact that the Big Giant Head called all the shots, and James Iha, Jimmy Chamberlin and D’arcy Wretzky contributed quite a bit to the sound of that band. I always enjoyed and appreciated Corgan’s ambition, though – when he decided to create a 30-song double album in 1995, and then pulled it off with some of his very best compositions, I was ecstatic. I even loved Adore, the pullback record that found Corgan working with drum machines and synths, but losing none of that grandiosity.

But ever since the Pumpkins turned into a Corgan vanity project (well, more of one), it’s been hard to know what to do with them. Corgan keeps on using the band name, despite the fact that he’s the only original member left and he keeps swapping out other contributors. And his pretension has only grown – the band’s last album, Oceania, formed the middle part of a box-set-in-progress called Teargarden by Kaleidyscope, which is honest-to-Christ its real name. Between that and stories about Corgan staging eight-hour performances based on Siddhartha and feuding with journalists and comparing himself to Kurt Cobain, well, it’s been difficult to get on board his train.

As I understand it, Monuments to an Elegy and its still-to-come successor, Day for Night, will conclude the Smashing Pumpkins project. Before I heard Monuments, I would have said that it’s not a moment too soon. But here’s the crazy thing – Monuments is every bit a Corgan solo project posing as a band record, but it’s pretty damn good. Better, in fact, than just about anything he’s released since Adore. Granted, that says more about the dismal quality of Corgan’s output since the 1990s than anything else, but faint praise is still praise, and I come to praise Monuments, not bury it.

Why does this one work? A couple reasons I can think of. First of all, it’s short – nine songs in about 33 minutes. That makes it by far the briefest Pumpkins album ever, and only one of these songs tops four minutes. It turns out that Corgan thrives in this format – he states his ideas quickly, and then backs off and makes room for what he has up his sleeve next. None of these songs are amazing, but all of them are tight and compact and alive. I enjoy the odd nine-minute epic as much as anyone, but Monuments is all the better for not including any.

Another reason, against all odds, is Tommy Lee. The Motley Crue drummer plays on all of these songs, and while one might miss Chamberlin’s more technical style, Lee pounds the skins with a force that has rarely been heard on a Pumpkins album. Even the sleepier pieces, like “Being Beige,” benefit from the life Lee pumps into them. It’s Lee who allows a stomper like “Anaise” to not only exist on this album, but to not be embarrassing. I never would have guessed that the missing element would be the guy who played on Shout at the Devil, but there you go.

And I have to give some credit to Corgan himself, I guess. He wrote some pretty good songs for this record, most notably “Drum and Fife,” probably the best Pumpkins tune in more than a decade. Corgan also figured out how to use his synths here, more effectively than he ever has – this isn’t some TheFutureEmbrace new-wave stumble, this is snaking synthesizer lines sitting nicely next to the walls of guitar noise Corgan and Jeff Schroeder bang out, like an integral part of the sound. For those of us hoping since Adore that Corgan would get here, this record’s a treat. The man’s voice is still a take-it-or-leave-it proposition, and it’s grown weaker with age, but you know what you’re in for when you buy a Pumpkins album. And he reins himself in here pretty well.

I would never suggest that Monuments to an Elegy is in the same league with early Pumpkins classics like Siamese Dream. But for latter-day Corgan, this thing is pretty good. One more like this and he may be able to go out on a high note. (Or at least something close to the note… nah, too mean.) And if he’s serious about his line in “Drum and Fife” about banging the drum until his dying day, well, this is a step in the right direction, and I wouldn’t mind hearing a few more. The fact that I’m saying that is as big a surprise to me as it probably is to you.

Next week, the year-end-apalooza starts in earnest with my (damn long) list of honorable mentions. Then the top 10 list, then Fifty Second Week, and we’re calling it a year. Thanks so much for sticking with me. Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am, and Twitter at www.twitter.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

I don’t know about you, but Christmas music is a tradition in my house.

It’s like egg nog, though. There are only a few weeks a year in which it’s OK to listen to holiday tunes – from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Day, with special dispensation given until New Year’s Eve. Before that, you’re cheating, and after that, you’re annoying. I’ve always found, though, that the fact that I can’t listen to Christmas music the other 48 weeks of the year makes me appreciate it even more.

Thankfully, we’re right in those candy-cane-flavored weeks right now. I love Christmas music – it’s almost a genre unto itself, with a deep, rich, storied catalog of classics (and not-so-classics). This is my favorite time of year, and nothing puts me in the spirit like good Christmas music. I buy a few each year, although there are perennial favorites around my house, including Quiet Company’s awesome Winter is Coming, Vince Guaraldi’s score to the Peanuts Christmas special, Timbre’s Silent Night, and both volumes of Sufjan Stevens’ incredible Christmas box sets.

But we’re not here to talk about those. We’re here to discuss the new stuff, the Christmas music of 2014. I bought four of them this year, and to varying degrees enjoyed them all. We’ll start with the most traditional, because I always like to buy at least one record that my mother will like when I go home for the holidays. This year, that record is The Spirit of Christmas, by Michael W. Smith and Friends.

I will admit a soft spot for Smith, dating back to my more Jesus-y youth. He’s a cheesy adult-contemporary kind of guy, but he does have chops, and his songs are often more interesting than you’d expect. This is Smith’s fourth (!) Christmas album, and his most cheeseball, as you could probably tell by the “and Friends” on the cover. The lineup of those friends doesn’t inspire much confidence: Vince Gill, Lady Antebellum, Little Big Town, Martina McBride, Amy Grant, Carrie Underwood, Jennifer Nettles, Michael McDonald and a spoken word piece by Bono. That just sounds awful, doesn’t it?

And for a while, the record lives down to expectations. Goopy strings, overemotive vocals, a precious performance by Smith’s daughter, and on and on. The first half is predictable and mostly blah, which is a shame – Smith’s first couple Christmas albums were surprisingly complex affairs. But about halfway through, I started enjoying this more. McBride’s turn on “What Child is This” complements the tender arrangement nicely, and the original song “Almost There” is a winner. Bono’s spoken piece (“The Darkest Midnight”) leads into the lovely “Peace,” a Michael McDonald original from his own Christmas record, which ends this one on a nice note. While only half of this is worthwhile, that half is surprisingly effective.

My mother will probably also like Mark Kozelek Sings Christmas Carols, perhaps more than I do. Kozelek has had a hell of a year, releasing a critically acclaimed album (Benji) and then wiping away all that goodwill in a one-sided feud with The War on Drugs, one that outed him as a heartless troll. It’s hard to separate that Mark Kozelek from this one, but it’s absolutely necessary if you’re gonna enjoy this. (Or anything he does from now on, for that matter.)

Sings Christmas Carols is exactly what it sounds like – Mark, his acoustic guitar and his hangdog voice, playing 14 classic Christmas songs in his slow, spectral style. It’s almost inhumanly pretty, like most of the man’s work, although he sometimes chooses joyous songs like “O Come All Ye Faithful” and “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” and vacuums all the verve out of them. This album begins with “Christmas Time is Here,” from Vince Guaraldi’s Peanuts score, and perhaps this is what he was going for, but I have even less trouble picturing Michael Cera walking away dejectedly to this take. (Kozelek retains the spoken dialogue here: “Of all the Mark Kozeleks in the world, you’re the Mark Kozelek-iest.” I laughed.)

If you want something with a bit more life to it, and perhaps a bit more goofiness, you could do worse than A Collection of Recycled Gifts, the new compilation from Marillion. Each year since 1999, the venerable British band has created a Christmas EP for fan club subscribers, including at least one newly recorded song. Recycled Gifts brings those songs together, and as you might expect, it’s a mixed bag. This disc runs the gamut from the beautiful to the ridiculous, from great ideas to lousy ones, but overall, it gives a strong picture of what Christmas sounds like on Planet Marillion.

My favorite track comes early – Steve Hogarth, owner of one of my very favorite voices, singing “Gabriel’s Message.” It’s a song I have loved since Sting’s ethereal version from the ‘80s, and this take is incredibly beautiful, Hogarth’s high, strong tenor floating above waves of keyboards. While much of this collection is similarly serious and gorgeous, from a straight read of “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” to a stunning “I Saw Three Ships” to the biggest, proggiest version of “Carol of the Bells” you’ve ever heard, much of it is also clearly the product of drunken jam sessions.

Just listen to the a cappella take on “That’s What Friends Are For,” or “The Erin Marbles,” which casts their Marbles quartet in a Christmas-y context. Or the version of “Little Saint Nick,” which transposes the Beach Boys’ lyrics onto the band’s own “Thunder Fly” music. (Strangely enough, it works.) The biggest shambles is “Lonely This Christmas,” a jam that finds Hogarth pulling out his Elvis impression. The tone shifts on this record are enough to give you whiplash, and it’s clear that these songs were originally intended as little presents for the faithful. But it’s fun, and it’s never boring, and you get Hogarth singing “Gabriel’s Message,” which is worth the price of the record on its own. (Go here.)

But the big winner this year is Over the Rhine. Their third Christmas-themed collection is called Blood Oranges in the Snow, and they actually finished it last year, but not quite in time to get it out before the holidays. Over the Rhine’s Christmas records are never typical – they’re always collections of original songs that have just as much depth to them as their non-holiday releases. That’s what you get here: nine songs that can stand with the best of their output, featuring Linford Detwiler’s graceful piano playing and Karin Bergquist’s undeniable, unbelievable voice.

This album was recorded at roughly the same time as last year’s double album Meet Me at the Edge of the World, and the sound is similar. The same band is here, including drummer Jay Bellerose and pedal steel player Eric Heywood, and the rustic, down-home feel is preserved. The songs are simply lovely, as always. “Another Christmas” is a beautiful classic, “My Father’s Body” thoroughly haunting, and the title track a superb piece of country-folk. Detwiler stepped up as a singer on Meet Me, and he continues that here, taking a couple leads and intertwining with Bergquist. This new style suits them perfectly.

Jack Henderson joins the duo on his “Bethlehem,” a stunning reworking of the traditional carol, and the band also covers Merle Haggard’s “If We Make It Through December,” further proof that this isn’t your usual Christmas record. My favorite thing here is “Let It Fall,” a piano-led meditation on letting go of things you’ve lost. Bergquist and Detwiler dance their voices around one another while Heywood adds perfect accents. This is already one of my favorite Over the Rhine songs. The record ends with the hopeful “New Year’s Song,” and it makes me think of everything I love about this season.

I might call for an exception to my rule about only listening to Christmas music during these few weeks, if only so I can hear Blood Oranges in the Snow all year round. Then again, its absence from my life will make our reunion even sweeter next November. It’s always great to have something to look forward to. And man, do I look forward to this season, every single year.

Next week, some stragglers at the end of 2014, before we wrap this puppy up with a bow. Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tm3am, and Twitter at www.twitter.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.