We asked Pitchfork writers and editors to share their personal highs and lows of 2013. Check back for more installments of My Year in Music.

Favorite Tracks of 2013:

01 Denzel Curry: "Threatz" [ft. Yung Simmie and Robb Bank$]
02 Daft Punk: "Lose Yourself to Dance" [ft. Pharrell]
03 Future: "Karate Chop" [ft. Casino]
04 Deniro Farrar: "Big Tookie" 
05 Chance the Rapper: "Good Ass Intro" [ft. BJ the Chicago Kid]
06 Daft Punk: "Doin' It Right" [ft. Panda Bear]
07 Drake: "All Me" [ft. 2 Chainz and Big Sean]
08 2 Chainz: "Feds Watching" [ft. Pharrell]
09 Majical Cloudz: "Childhood's End"
10 Austra: "Home"

Favorite Albums of 2013:

01 Kanye West: Yeezus 
02 Deafheaven: Sunbather 
03 Denzel Curry: Nostalgic 64 
04 The Men: New Moon 
05 Daft Punk: Random Access Memories 
06 Vampire Weekend: Modern Vampires of the City 
07 Run the Jewels: Run the Jewels 
08 Drake: Nothing Was the Same 
09 Earl Sweatshirt: Doris 
10 Chance the Rapper: Acid Rap

Most Played Song of 2013: Deniro Farrar, "Big Tookie". In my review of Deniro’s The Patriarch, I likened "Big Tookie" to Rick Ross’ "B.M.F.", two great songs inspired by famed gangsters, but I still sold it short. Ryan Hemsworth’s beat is as simple as they come—a producer friend of mine remade it in a couple minutes on his phone—and that directness, plus Deniro’s hook and snarly verses, make the song so replayable.

An Old Album I Discovered/Rediscovered This Year: Young Buck, Straight Outta Cashville. "Shawty Wanna Ride" was one of my first rap-radio encounters a decade ago, but I never got into the album as a whole until the past couple years, and more so than ever this year. Buck was doing undulating goon-rap when that was a more marketable prospect nationally, and he was on center stage with 50 Cent and Lloyd Banks as a member of G-Unit. Beats-wise, a lineup of producers less famous than Dr. Dre borrowed a lot from Dre’s slamming style of the time, though there’s more guitar and a crunk influence.

Musical Highlights: Driving around on gorgeous spring days listening to Acid Rap. Picking up the guitar again and regaining a reasonable amount of skill after years of atrophy. Following Kanye’s madness from rant to rant and tense radio interview to tense radio interview. My dorky Bob Dylan-based trip in July: Seeing him (plus My Morning Jacket, Wilco, and Richard Thompson as the "Americanarama Festival of Music") in his birthplace of Duluth, MN, and driving the hour to visit his childhood home and high school in near-ish Hibbing.  

Musical Lowlights: Seeing the infamous Danny Brown blowjob show but not realizing what was happening at the time. Damaging about 25 LPs due to heat. Saying goodbye to Lou Reed.

We asked Pitchfork writers and editors to share their personal highs and lows of 2013. Read more installments of My Year in Music.

Your Most Played Song of 2013: According to iTunes, it is "Duper" by Crooks on Tape. Two-thirds of Crooks on Tape were also largely responsible for Enon's 2000 debut album Believo!, and there's a similarly loose and off-the-cuff thing going on here that I keep coming back to.  Superchunk's "Me & You & Jackie Mittoo" is a close second.

An Old Album I Discovered/Rediscovered This Year: I don't think it gets any cornier or more pedestrian than this, but the "Breaking Bad" finale compelled me to finally spend some quality time with the Badfinger catalog.

Musical Highlights: I was incredibly lucky to spend a good deal of 2013 playing music and mixing records with exceptionally talented and generous folks. 2013 will also be remembered as the year I finally came to terms with the fact that the guitar sound on Sheryl Crow's "If It Makes You Happy" is my favorite guitar sound ever, which was kind of a big one for me.

Musical Lowlights: I was absolutely gutted by the sudden passing of Scott Miller, who is unreservedly my favorite songwriter of all time. For anyone unfamiliar with his work, I recommend starting with either Game Theory's The Big Shot Chronicles or The Loud Family's Plants and Birds and Rocks and Things.

Shake Appeal is a column that highlights new garage and garage-adjacent releases. For the first installment of 2014, Evan Minsker features new music videos from Chicago's White Mystery, Los Angeles' Endless Bummer, England's Factotum, and New Zealand's Cool Runnings.

White Mystery: "Hey Shirley" and "Junglecat" [dir. Thadd Day]

Chicago's favorite brother-and-sister duo White Mystery are offering two music videos from their 2013 LP Telepathic. Both feature live footage of the band filmed in Austin, Texas (at Trailer Space Records, Beerland, and Hotel Vegas) and directed by Thadd Day. "Hey Shirley" is "Henry Rollins' favorite song from the Telepathic record", according to Miss Alex White, and the video features two kids sword fighting. 

Endless Bummer: "Such a Drag" [dir. Jessica Hundley]

From their ripping debut 7" comes the ultra-bloody clip for Endless Bummer's "Such a Drag". The video features Greg, Lance, and Liz Bummer getting doused in blood, Carrie-style. The track (as well as the band's forthcoming full-length) was produced by Ty Segall.

Factotum: "Minute" [dir. Karl Gowing]

Later this month, Al and Karl of Factotum will release their album Knife Gun on Stolen Body Records. The clip for "Minute" is fairly minimal: Just two guys hanging out, steering a boat down a river.

Cool Runnings: "Cool Death" [dir. Alexander Hoyles]

New Zealand's Cool Runnings, whose members also play in the Raw Nerves (they put out a great self-titled album in 2012) have delivered a video for "Cool Death" that has one mission: To show a bunch of people smoking weed.

We tend to think of music as escapism: that slow train out of consciousness that takes you to a place where all the piles of laundry, dishes, debt, and unheard voicemails from close family members are just specks in the distance. It’s a place that requires no mental or physical effort—just you, some expensive headphones, and your music. On the outside you appear to be just lying there with your eyes closed, calm and relaxed, but inside your head it’s a goddamn circus, a riot of neural activity that science can barely begin to explain.

I like that idea, that there’s always some kind of action, even in the most inert or catatonic of states, when I listen to music. Neural connections lighting up lobes, cortexes, and cerebellums like watching a lightning storm from outer space, small and silent. It’s easy to talk about what's knowable in music—an 808 bass, a power chord, a snare drum, vocal vibrato—but harder to talk about why we know them, or why we recall them, or which memories are triggered when sound passes through our auditory cortex and into the maze of our brain.

Neurological phenomena can sometimes disrupt how we listen to music. Pitchfork contributor Jayson Greene has written about how the music he listens to is related to his extraneous physical energy, and I've noted that my love of noise music is tied to a horrifying sleep disorder I once had. Everything that happens in our brain is in some way connected, even if we can’t quite explain how.

Which leads me to aural déjà vu.

In the early days of scientific studies of déjà vu, a psychiatrist named Vernon Neppe defined it concisely as "any subjectively inappropriate impression of familiarity of the present experience with an undefined past." While neuroscientists don’t really know why exactly this parapsychological disconnect happens, the unifying incident between the many theories is that there's just a little glitch in your brain. What is actually new sensory information (looking at Honda Civic in a McDonald's parking lot) is being processed as old sensory information (a Honda Civic you saw in a McDonald's parking lot long ago). It may be mistakenly filed into the lobe that handles long-term memory, or there may be a delay in the visual signal getting sent to the brain. 

The sensation is a fantastic moment of confusion, where we can’t tell if we’re being nostalgic or prescient. And like just waking up from a dream, we try desperately to hang on to that disorienting feeling and figure it out, right up until it slips away from us and the lobes reconnect.

I’ve found that my favorite 21st century music does this: confuses the lobes, confounds what is present and what is past into an "inappropriate impression of familiarity of the present with an undefined past." It creates something strikingly unfamiliar. Simon Reynolds examines shades of this idea in his book on pop nostalgia and the past, Retromania. Reynolds' main concern is with what he calls "pop music's addiction to its own past," and at one point he mentions Daniel Lopatin’s Eccojams, these loops-on-lean that microanalyize little moments from pop music taken from songs like Janet Jackson’s "Lonely" or JoJo’s "Too Little Too Late" as songs that can tug at and reframe our love for the familiar.

Lopatin’s best known for his work as Oneohtrix Point Never, which shifts from skittery, sample-heavy landscapes to the near sample-free drone compositions found on last year’s R Plus Seven. Chintzy synths that could have been pulled from any stock 80s educational film about "the future" are gridded out in warped constellations. He uses technology to remold the sounds-of-the-future-of-the-past, placing them in loops and setting them up at disorientating angles. In a 2009 manifesto-of-sorts, Lopatin got at the core of his aesthetic: "The machines of the past contain prenatal patterns and unborn mythologies that eagerly await for their next chance. And when they storm back from the abyss of history, they are never the same."

While Lopatin dabbles in chronological and philosophical layers of technology, two other artists use a particular musical technique to get at this glitch between the aurally known and the unknown, hauling traditional instruments out of the abyss of history. There’s saxophonist Colin Stetson, whose circular breathing and chaotic overtones make the same kinds of microanalytical loops without any pedals or electronics. Of course, everyone's familiar with a certain kind of saxophone sound, from Coltrane to Wham!, but the way Stetson plays it on his three-album New History Warfare series rips it from the context of jazz and schmaltz. The human-sized bass saxophone becomes the percussion as the pads thwack against the brass body, and Stetson's voice somehow escapes to hum a melody over his arpeggios.

Similarly, there's Dawn of Midi, whose album Dysnomia takes the traditional jazz trio setup and flips it on its head, playing as few notes as possible with no improvisation. Pianist Amino Belyamani plays with one hand dampening the strings inside the body of the piano and based on where he mutes the strings with his one hand, some notes in a chord ring out, and others just stick in the felt pad and fall to a dead percussive sound. Dysnomia is an album of overlapping rhythms, set up in little loops to which are as disorienting as they are always in the pocket. Both Dawn of Midi and Stetson (and Lopatin) owe a great deal of debt to Steve Reich's minimalism and the idea of restraint and looping. But by taking little sections of history and spinning them around, a little wobbly like a basketball on the finger, there is a hypnotic and incoherent sense of living in both the present and the past, unstuck in time.

Down Is Up discusses music that falls slightly under the radar of our usual coverage: demos and self-releases, as well as output from small or overlooked labels and communities. This week, Jenn Pelly highlights the January cassette program from Arizona's Ascetic House, as well as a public access television show in New York City that highlights underground music.

01 Ascetic House January Program - A primary goal of Ascetic House, the interdisciplinary artists circle in Tempe, Ariz., seems to be disorientation—tearing apart not only song structures but their methods of delivery, whether it's a live set that seems more like an exorcism or a tapes-to-prisoners program, a defiantly mysterious aesthetic or an air of drama in speech. "The only artists making money are con-artists," said Jes Aurelius, the guitarist in desert-punk band Destruction Unit and an Ascetic House fixture, last year. "And while we may have some shark blood in us, we are definitely not making any money. In fact, I'd say the slowest and most painful suicide is committing to life as an artist."

In its short existence, Ascetic House has produced philosophical pamphlets, psychedelic chapbooks, and around 50 noisy cassette titles from the likes of provocative performance art troupe Marshstepper, Providence-based post-punk band the Ukiah Drag, and defunct raw noise duo Foreplay, among others. By the end of January that number of tapes will nearly double, as Ascetic House embarks on its program of releasing one tape per day for the entire month. The catch is that each tape will only be available for 24 hours, through online mail-order, before it's replaced with a new one. At some point there will be tapes from Iceage and Puce Mary, the Danish power electronics artist behind last year's great Success, but it's unclear just when. The plan is outlined in their recently-shared February 2014 newsletter—here in full—a transmission from the future that feels lost in time. Even the schedules and bulletins from Ascetic House seem performative.

To celebrate the January Program, Ascetic House is sharing a free download at its website everyday, including Destruction Unit's Sandy Sessions (stream two songs above and check out the rest of their offerings here). Just as 2012's Hurricane Sandy was brewing, these heavy, blistering recordings were tracked at Heaven Street, the Brooklyn record shop/studio run by Sean Ragon of Cult of Youth. Soon after, Destruction Unit played a gig at the bar Don Pedro, one of the only venues that stayed open to stare down the storm.

Meanwhile, back in Arizona, Ascetic House just launched a new brick-and-mortar shop called the Ascetic Outhouse, which is apparently located inside the abandoned bathroom of a Phoenix arts collective. Whether it's worth visiting, I cannot say, but that sort of commitment to an idea is always inspiring. "The bathroom still doesn't work, but it's a good enough spot," Aurelius said. "If you happen to find yourself in Arizona, feel free to stop by anytime, have some wine, and listen to the sound of the future."

Frankie Cosmos & the Empiness on "The BJ Rubin Show"

02 "The BJ Rubin Show", Season 2 premiere - Until recently, public access television was something I admittedly thought only played a role in underground music in the 1970s and 80s. That changed last year when I heard about BJ Rubin, an endearingly goofy New Yorker who runs a label and blog called Pukekos and hosts the local cable access "BJ Rubin Show". The three-year-old program's second season premiered in December and the entire two-part variety show is now online (below or at Vimeo).

Relatively speaking, it is star-studded: Megan Remy of U.S. Girls sings a theme song; Maria Minerva does karaoke to Neil Young and the Miracles; ex-Parts & Labor member Dan Friel makes droning, abrasive noise; New York songwriter Frankie Cosmos sings about missing her dog and how high school made her cry; Colleen Green plays in front of a bunch of weed flowers; Alice Cohen performs her poised, buzzing synth pop lines. The entire production is full of awkward interviews, bad dancing, glitchy stop-action shots, green-screened New York cityscapes, comically deadpan talk of aliens and God. True weirdos. It is very psychedelic.

"The BJ Rubin Show" airs the first Thursday of each month on the Brooklyn Public Network at 2 p.m. It airs bi-weekly in Manhattan, every other Thursday on the Manhattan Neighhorhood Network at 4 p.m. Those in Brooklyn can catch a broadcast of Season 2/Part 2 on February 6 at 2 p.m.

This week WorldStarHipHop made its entry into documentary filmmaking with The Field: Violence, Hip-Hop & Hope In Chicago, the latest in a recent crop of firsthand investigations into the war zone that locals know as "Chiraq." The Chicago episode of HBO’s "Vice" premiered last June; in August, British filmmaker Will Robson-Scott released his "Chi Raq" project. While noble in intent, these documentations often come with a skeevy sense that the story is being told by an outsider looking in. The resulting works are incomplete at best, Kipling-ly imperialist at worst (Robson-Scott had never visited Chicago prior to 2012). With its reputation for fanuting street violence into memes, its name now a literal battle cry, WorldStar might not seem at first glance like the most natural moderator for a conversation on the ouroboric relationship between Chicago’s gang-ravaged areas and the often nihilistic music incubated within it. But Q, the site’s founder who executive directed the project, is a actually a fairly ideal candidate for the job. Though not a Chicago native, he’s more than well-versed in the content here from all angles, particularly rap-wise. Without WorldStar, it’s entirely possible that Chief Keef’s career would look nothing like it does today.

Some of the most prominent names in the city’s ballooning drill scene appear in the 40-minute film: Lil Durk, King Louie, Katie Got Bandz, Lil Bibby, Lil Herb, Lil Reese, Tink, Lil Mouse, Young Chop. Interviews and freestyles are weaved around a brief rundown of what created "Chiraq" as it stands (namely, one of the nation’s largest and sloppiest attempts at eradicating public housing, geographically displacing previously unified gangs and creating not only hyper-segregated, often block-based gang fractions that have become increasingly lawless as they grow younger and less organized). Those interviewed ping wildly between optimistic and hopeless—mostly depending on the extent to which rap money has saved their lives. Katie grins as she talks about getting arrested three or four times a week before she started recording. Bibby laughs nervously as he admits, "I don’t really like this rap shit, to tell you the truth. This shit stressful, man." L’A Capone, Durk’s OTF (Only The Family) affiliate whose debut mixtape was released this week, crows with a smirk, "We like this shit. It’s fun, really." The 17-year-old was murdered on September 26.

To even a casual observer, most of this is not news. Recall the endlessly circular debates that clamored through 2012, the year Keef broke through: Isn’t he a horrible role model? Does it matter? Which came first, the devastating rap music or the devastating environment? What I find most striking about The Field is the reminder of how much this discussion over the past couple years has been dictated by outside parties.

The word "drill" returns to its origins here. Just as "trap" has in some circles has come to mean something purely musical, devoid of all context of its unglamorous namesake, it’s easy to forget that before "drill" was a catch-all genre for young, post-Luger Chicago rap, it was a verb—see: Lil Reese’s 2011 "Letz Do A Drill", King Louie’s 2011 Chiraq, Drillinois mixtape, Katie Got Bandz’ 2012 "Ridin; Round & We Drilling". A significant amount of meaning has been lost as drill has gone nationwide, like a particularly anarchic game of telephone.

"What people don’t know is, it was blocks going against blocks, basically beefing on wax," Larry "Larro" Wilson (founder and CEO of Lawless Inc, the local label that represents Louie and Katie) says of drill’s propensity for getting lost in translation. "But nobody knew to the masses, because they don’t know anything about these neighborhoods. They don’t know who’s from this hood, who’s from that hood, or even the name of the hood, cause it’s not a real recognized neighborhood." When covering Chicago rap, there’s a tendency in internet-based music criticism to blindly toss around the term "South Side" as a faux-informed signifier of "the scary part," without any specific geographic information whatsoever. (In fact, drill has historically been more affiliated with the city’s east side Dro City neighborhood.) By contrast, interviewees in The Field are designated by names, neighborhoods, specific intersections—Durk and his family in Englewood’s Lamron hood, Lil Bibby on the east side Rock Block, Lil Mouse in the far south Wild Hundreds. It’s a small gesture, but it feels significant, symbolic of identities that go beyond "rapper" or "unlucky kid."

The Field features a memorable segment on 12-year-old Lil Mouse, who gained national attention in 2012 for his seemingly age-inappropriate "Get Smoked" (eventually remixed by Lil Wayne). A man called Big Folks responds to the track’s most common response, an aghast inquiry as to how anyone’s parents could allow this to happen: "To hear it come from a young man, so young, to the rest of the world it’s strange. But to us it’s not. Our youngins start early; they get off the porch at ten years old." Mouse giggles as his father—supportive, if not wholly at ease—recounts his "potty mouth" as a child, and shows off his baseball trophies. It’s an eerily calm reminder to anyone turned off by a preteen championing the ideals of drill; what would Mouse’s life have been if he hadn’t become a YouTube celebrity? (He’s currently being homeschooled to focus on his rap career.) Big Folks compares Mouse and his contemporaries to news reporters a bit later, and it feels like a half-truth. Certainly these rappers are doing true boots-on-the-ground guerrilla journalism in their work—unquestionably better than any of the past year of touristy "Chiraq" documentaries, if you know how to listen.

Unlike most recent Chicago documentaries, The Field offers alternatives to a life of drilling: the CeaseFire program (now called Cure Violence), which uses outreach workers to mediate gang conflicts, and rapper turned social servant Rhymefest’s songwriting program "Got Bars?". As inspiring as these organizations are, though, they're presented here with a whiff of futility. "Motherfuckers just want to fit in or something, they don't wanna be no lames out here," Young Chop scoffs at one point, scoffing at the cache of being a hitter. "Fuck that shit. I ain’t never shit no nigga, I ain’t no motherfucking lame." It's a powerful assertion. Documentaries made to raise awareness are generally positive forces, The Field is one of the better ones—but actual change comes from the inside out and rarely vice versa. It left me wondering what it would look like if a young Chicago native—a DGaines or a Young Chop—were given creative control.

It’s been just over two weeks since Americans unwrapped the bounty under the tree, and the Billboard charts have settled into their usual post-holiday funk. But the last couple of weeks on Billboard’s flagship album and singles lists—reflecting sales and airplay from the 12 days after Christmas—are revealing in their own way. I call it Kid Season, when folks under 18 exert their influence.

The big beneficiaries this year: a trifle of a single by Pitbull and Ke$ha, and a soundtrack album to a Disney animated film with surprisingly long legs.

The precedent for this kid-centric sales pattern dates all the way back to the start of the SoundScan era in 1991. Basically, as the data behind the charts has gotten more accurate over the last two decades, we’ve been able to track the difference between the albums adults buy before Christmas—for each other and for their offspring—and the stuff said offspring buy when they’re only buying for themselves.

Arguably, the first major beneficiaries of Kid Season were now-Hall of Famers Nirvana. Almost everyone who's even heard of the band knows their most famous chart stat: When their breakthrough album Nevermind topped the Billboard 200 album chart at the start of 1992, it knocked Michael Jackson’s heavily hyped Dangerous out of the No. 1 spot.

What’s less known about this era-defining moment is the importance of timing—and Christmas. The official Billboard issue date for the week Nevermind replaced Dangerous at No. 1 was January 11, 1992—but there’s a time lag between when SoundScan collects its data and Billboard publishes its charts; the data for that particular chart was gathered from December 23–29, 1991. Basically, Jackson’s album had been the top choice of gift-givers right up until the week before Christmas, but when the holiday was over, teenagers armed with Sam Goody gift cards (or copies of Dangerous to exchange) marched to stores to buy Nevermind.

The next wave of artists to benefit from Nirvana’s (accidental) example were rap and R&B acts, led by DMX. The barking rapper essentially invented post-Christmas as a premeditated release strategy with his sophomore album, Flesh of My Flesh, Blood of My Blood, his second 1998 release and second chart-topper. The industry was scratching its collective head when Def Jam dropped the DMX disc December 22—just three days before Christmas, a then-unusual move.

Who would buy a major fourth-quarter release so close to Santa Day? Young hip-hop fans, it turns out, whose parents would have been too squeamish to give junior a CD with a blood-drenched rapper on the cover; Flesh/Blood not only debuted on top, it did so with a staggering 670,000 copies in week one, knocking that year’s holiday-friendly Garth Brooks album out of the penthouse. For the next 10 years, at least one major hip-hop or R&B star—from Snoop to Nas to Jamie Foxx—would drop an album within a week of Christmas; in seven of those 10 years, the No. 1 album in early January was a rap or R&B disc.

While it might seem like young people’s top priority after December 25 is buying something to make parents’ toes curl, that’s not always the case—squeaky-clean tween fare has also done well in January.

The soundtrack to the Disney Channel’s first High School Musical movie dropped in early January 2006, just a couple of weeks after Christmas, and sold better than expected out of the gate, eventually topping the chart in late winter. Right after Christmas 2008, Taylor Swift’s blockbuster album Fearless—which hadn’t been No. 1 since its debut week in early November—rode the Kid Season wave and returned to No. 1, staying there throughout January 2009. And in one of the starkest generational shifts pre- and post-Christmas, the mom-friendly blockbuster of 2009’s holiday season, I Dreamed a Dream by Susan Boyle, was ushered out by an album that dropped on January 1, 2010, by an artist less than half Boyle’s age: Ke$ha’s debut, Animal. (Actually, maybe that disc should be filed next to Nirvana and DMX among the parent-panickers.)

This year’s post-Christmas album-chart victor is cleaner and even younger-leaning than usual: the soundtrack to the Disney blockbuster Frozen. This week, powered by sales from the week that included New Year’s, Frozen reaches No. 1 on the album chart for the first time, with an impressive-for-January sales total of 165,000. The soundtrack’s success has come as a surprise to many, given the toon’s improbably long run atop the box office and the fact that it’s only the fourth animated film soundtrack to reach No. 1 (after The Lion King, Pocahontas and Curious George).

On the other hand, Frozen is benefiting from chart trends that make its success eminently logical. For one thing, recent years have seen several soundtracks to late-in-the-year movies hit No. 1 in the new year, when the bar to reach No. 1 is lower: Dreamgirls (2005 movie, No. 1 in 2006), Juno (2007 and 2008) and Les Miserables (2012 and 2013) all hit the top thanks to January sales. The Les Miz movie soundtrack was No. 1 literally one year ago this same week—and you have to imagine tweens and teens had a hand in that.

But more important, Frozen is a fitting Kid Season hit—more early-tween than teen, obviously (but the sullen teenager who a generation ago was buying Nirvana or DMX isn’t buying many albums today, period). Just imagine thousands of pubescent Taylor Swift fans getting iTunes gift cards for Christmas, with nothing to buy from her this year while she works on her next album, clicking "buy" on Frozen instead. Although none of the soundtrack’s songs are getting much play yet at radio, four tunes from it have appeared on the Hot 100 thanks to strong digital-song sales, a further indicator of kid adoration. Currently, two versions of "Let It Go"—one by Tony-winner Idina Menzel, the other by kid-TV goddess Demi Lovato—are riding the Top 40 simultaneously.

Speaking of singles, sales of songs in the weeks just after the holidays have been equally revealing as albums over the years, especially since Billboard and Soundscan began tracking digital sales of songs in 2005. Every December in the digital era, the charts have seen a burst of singles-buying activity starting midday on December 25 and continuing through the rest of post-Christmas week, as kids who received their first i-device or, more frequently, iTunes gift cards turned on their gadgets and cashed in.

The result is a post-Christmas U.S. sweepstakes to rival the U.K.’s annual Christmas No. 1 tradition: Every January, Billboard reports record or near-record digital activity for the last week of the year, with top-ranked songs’ sales totals reliably swelling by more than 100%. While most weeks of the year, a chart-topper will move 200,000 to 300,000 copies, during post-Christmas week totals well above 400,000 are typical. Even now, when digital sales appear to have peaked as consumer behavior shifts from buying to streaming, the final days of the year are fat ones for iTunes and other digital song-sellers.

In the nine years since digital sales have been tracked, the best-selling song during post-Christmas week has universally been tween- or teen-friendly—indeed, two of the megasellers have involved Ke$ha. Here’s the list of songs that sold the most copies during the last chart week of the year:

2005: D4L, "Laffy Taffy" (175,000 downloads)

2006: Fergie, "Fergalicious" (294,000)

2007: Flo Rida featuring T-Pain, "Low" (467,000)

2008: Lady Gaga featuring Colby O'Donis, "Just Dance" (419,000)

2009: Ke$ha, "TiK ToK" (610,000)

2010: Bruno Mars, "Grenade" (559,000)

2011: LMFAO, "Sexy and I Know It" (417,000)

2012: Taylor Swift, "I Knew You Were Trouble" (582,000)

2013: Pitbull featuring Ke$ha, "Timber" (442,000)

In many cases, the post-holiday winner was already a chart-topping hit when the sales boom appeared—Flo Rida, Ke$ha, Mars, LMFAO; all that iTunes-clicking only made big hits bigger. But the very first act to ride the trend, Atlanta snap-music crew D4L, was a total one-hit wonder—"Laffy Taffy" was their first and only Top 40 hit—that never would have reached the penthouse without that one-week burst of sales. And although she’s now a household name, Lady Gaga’s career was arguably made by her post-holiday burst; "Just Dance", her debut single, had been on the Hot 100 for almost half a year, rising gradually, before her sales bonanza after Christmas 2008 finally sent the song to No. 1.

The latest beneficiary of the annual post-Christmas sweepstakes—"Timber" by club-rapper Pitbull and frequent club patron Ke$ha—waited a full month at No. 2 on the Hot 100, stuck behind "The Monster", Eminem’s sequel single with Rihanna. The iTunes sales burst eventually worked its magic for Señor Pit—this time, it actually took more than one week to kick in, narrowing the gap with Em’s single last week and finally overtaking it this week (after "Timber"'s 442K post-Christmas week, its sales two weeks after the holiday were just over 300,000, an excellent total considering iTunes sales have begun to ease up.)

With its club-folktronica beats and lyrical odes to dancing honeys’ low-dropping posteriors, the featherweight "Timber" resembles nothing so much as the victor of post-Christmas 2007, Flo Rida’s apple-bottom-jeans homage "Low". Both songs are lascivious, trivial and goofy—the sort of smut best enjoyed by the preadolescent. Behold, Kid Season in full effect—long may they click.

Welcome to Mixdown, an ongoing series where Pitchfork staffers and contributors talk about mixtapes and mixes that may not be covered in our reviews section but are worth discussing. Today we're talking about Lil B's Christmas Eve mixtape, Fabolous new Soul Tape installment, and Justin Bieber's adult turn on Journals.

Lil B: 05 Fuck Em

Corban Goble: How to even begin…

Carrie Battan: I was at my dad’s friend’s Christmas Eve party when this dropped. I should have put it on the speakers—festive!

Jordan Sargent: I rode the train into Manhattan to try and go to Trader Joe’s, which was a terrible idea since it was Christmas Eve. This took my mind off of making a colossally stupid decision, which I think is the point of "Thank You Based God."

CG: I'm hoping he makes a video for "Blogger’s Anthem"—it's just us at our respective computers while we do Mixdown.

CB: I haven’t listened to this in its entirety—every time I go to sit down with it I end up just picking out songs with titles I’m most excited about.

CG: You mean like "Hummus or Crack"?

CB: Yes. Also, "1 Night in Flordia". Shoutout Flordia Man. "Rob the Jewler", "Painful Intermission", "Hadouken", "Im Gunna Be a Doctor"—there are so many. That said, the most generic title of the lot, "New York Anthem" is sort of a monster of a song. Definitely the hardest song to ever shout out New York magazine's Vulture blog—"Shout out to New York, Vulture magazine." 

JS: There’s definitely a segment of rap fans who have no time for a conversation about what Lil B is "doing," which is valid. But it is interesting to observe a rapper toying around with the medium even if the music is (inherently?) the ephemera. So much of the discussion of rap is about how the music gets to us. Even Drake dropped two free tracks at the end of the year and as much of the chatter I saw was about the fact that he did that as opposed to the songs themselves. I’m not necessarily lamenting this—these conversations are often pretty fun.

But Lil B has always been a rogue in this sense, and with 05 Fuck Em he bends it all the way back to the early days of 100 Myspace pages. What mattered—and what was fascinating—wasn't necessarily the music, but that something like that existed. And even now a 100-track Christmas Eve mixtape is exciting. It’s fun that someone is doing stuff like this.

Also there’s a song called "I’m Gunna Be a Doctor" where he raps over the "Slow Jamz" instrumental. True inspiration.

CB: He's perfected "music as ephemera"—and is probably an influence on others in that respect—but then you go and listen to the music and so much of it so good! If he pared his releases down and put out 12-song collections every six months, they’d be some of the best internet-rap albums every year. But he has some kind of compulsive aversion to doing that, a dedication to that rogueness that is greater than his dedication to making good rap music. Anyway, all that stuff has probably been said before.

CG: I've always liked that Lil B doesn’t care about making a buck at all. Like, I’m Gay (I’m Happy) was ostensibly this for-sale thing and he leaked it on his own Twitter account the moment it went on iTunes. It's almost like he didn't want people to pay for it. 

CB: He went on tour more than he ever has in 2013, and I think that's a direct effort to earn an income so that he can ensure his ability to do stuff like that.

In the name of service, let’s each list a couple highlights… Like I said up there, I really like "New York Anthem", the "Ellen Degeneres" remix is pretty good, and the "I Own Swag" remix has nothing to do with the original "I Own Swag", but it’s still good. "So Thirsty" is particularly funny—"Put a punk-rock bitch on the map."

JS: Um, "Bloggers Anthem" is legitimately one of the best tracks on here—at least that I’ve heard, of course. Also, "10k Summa" sounds like the sketch of a Mannie Fresh beat heard in a dream and appropriately Lil B sounds barely awake. Also shoutout to "Kurt Angle" for possibly being the lowest bitrate mp3 in existence.

CG: I like "Lil Bs Layer" and "I Am the Rawest Rapper".

Fabolous:Soul Tape 3

 JS: Wait, when I said "Fabo", I meant Fabo from D4L, not Fabolous. His new mixtape is We Amongst U.

CG: I thought we were talking about Fabolous, too, but I listened to the Fabo as well, for what it's worth.

CB: Mixdown? More like...mixup. Real quick: Soul Tape 3 is a decent, efficient tape that's consistently funny from front to back, especially if you enjoy Cam/Kanye-level cracks about women being ridiculous on social media. (#nofilter=#hofilter, etc.) Jordan, tell us about the Fabo tape for a second.

JS: I watched a ton of Home Alone (all three films) over the holidays because it was on loop on AMC and I didn’t go home. Anyway, one of the pop-up facts that I saw was a quote from director Chris Columbus calling Home Alone pure cartoon slapstick comedy like The Three Stooges, which is why he thought it was okay for kids to watch what would otherwise be grotesque violence. Fabo has this exaggerated and amazing "OWWWWWHHH!" ad-lib that would have been perfect for Home Alone and pushes this mixtape far into the realm of the absurd. I mean, he’s screaming on every track. It's great.

CB: And while we're completely off track, I want to take a second to recommend this new video from Bay Area crew HBK, "Never Goin' Broke". H/T HBK Gang scholar Naomi.

Justin Bieber:Journals

CG: I’m a #Belieber so you know I’m biased, but I like the direction he took this. It’s really front-heavy, but I think that’s kind of the idea. These are sketches, not at all fully-done songs buttressed by work from the world’s biggest songwriters and producers. He has the tough task of trying to jump into a more adult phase of his career, which not many preteen stars pull off, but I think Journals shows he’s up to the task, musically speaking.

CB: I almost feel like the sketch nature of these songs, and the fact that they they were released in the way they were released—free and in spurts, in mixtape fashion—is part of the strategy of transitioning him to a more adult phase, or at least landing him in cool-kid territory. Or maybe I’m just brainwashed by reading music blogs all day—"Oh, this is Bieber trying to be an adult by... putting out music in a way that's appealing to blogs!" But I feel like there is some truth to that.

JS: I think it might also be a way of bringing his fanbase along slowly if he’s gonna be going more R&B and less pop with whatever his upcoming material is. One of way of using mixtapes is to just throw shit at the wall and see what sticks—as much of a service for the artist as the fans. As a full album it’s mostly good—but his voice still sounds a bit… young for these songs. You can hear technical talent in his singing but his voice needs to mature into explicit songs about pussy, for instance. But I remain excited about where his music is headed, he seems to have a decent idea of what he wants it to sound like.

My favorite part of this tape is Future’s backing vocals in the chorus of "What’s Hatnin'." He sings in this decayed falsetto, like he’s actually about to cry. I don’t think anyone in music could hit that note in that way—if Future is an astronaut that is him breaking apart as he crashes to Earth.

CB: "What’s Hatnin'" is my favorite part of this, too. Corban, as a #Belieber, do you think this is him at his most anguished? I feel like that component of this collection kind of anchors his unruly behavior over the last six months or so to real pain.

CG: It seems that way. I feel like any attempt to penetrate Bieber’s emotional core has been completely futile, so it’s hard to say where it comes from. I will say that, he seems like he is someone who is "out to show the haters," so the stakes are pretty high for his next studio album.

JS: I wonder if Zedd will be involved.

CG: The Zedd check cleared earlier this week.

CB:Trap Lord, in stores now.

Shake Appeal is a column that highlights new garage and garage-adjacent releases. This time, Evan Minsker looks at new material from Rall Tide, CCR Headcleaner, the Memories, the Yolks, Today'sHits, Black Mekon, and the Red Cords.

Rall Tide: World Series Hangovers [Gold Tapes]

This column doesn't often feature music that samples string sections or vintage spoken word narration, but then again, moments like those aren't often featured on records with titles like World Series Hangovers. Detroit's Rall Tide counterbalance the quieter stuff, like the bare acoustic intro of "John Wayne's Gun", with chugging guitars and juvenile lyrics. They can rip like Mascis and sing with the nasal confidence of Alec Ounsworth. Gold Tapes sent me this in a homemade box featuring a collage of images—dudes with guns, butterfly wings—beneath the words "Rall Tide." It's a fitting aesthetic for a project in which every sound is collaged around a strong central melody.

CCR Headcleaner: "Free the Freaks" [Famous Class]

Famous Class are continuing LAMC, their ongoing split 7" series with all proceeds going to the Ariel Panero Memorial Fund. Here's how it works: Famous Class asks the A-side artist to share an unreleased track, then that artist picks one of their favorite artists to provide a track for the B-side. The latest installment features Fuzz doing a Kinks cover, and for the B-side, they've tapped their former tourmates, the San Francisco sludge punks CCR Headcleaner. They've offered up a trudging, somewhat atonal track called "Free the Freaks" that'll make you wonder if you're listening to it on 33 1/3 by accident. They drag their words for a little too long, and everything sounds a little off. Mission accomplished.

Black Mekon: Stolen Bible 2 [PNKSLM]

Out of England comes Black Mekon, who have delivered Stolen Bible 2, an album of fuzz-fried blues rock. By adding bite to an old American music tradition while remaining nameless and wearing black masks, these two dudes could pass for supporting characters in a Tarantino movie. Their sound rides a similar garage blues vibe that Jack White has been cultivating for years now, and the songs kill. With an oppressive low end and moments that crash and briefly obliterate all other noise, they've got muscle aplenty, and when their vocals transition from "cartoon villain" to "cooing upper register", they find a satisfying balance. 

The Memories / The Yolks / Today'sHits: American Summer EP / "Two Dollars Out the Door" / Sex Boys EP [Randy]

Chicago's Randy Records is ringing in 2014 with, count 'em, three awesome new 7"s. First up is the Memories, the West Coast stoners whose "American Summer" is chill and moon-eyed, as befits the rest of their discography. Then, there's a great new single from the Yolks, who have been relatively quiet since they released their self-titled album back in 2009. Finally, there are new songs from Today'sHits, the fuzz-pop project of Kentucky native James Swanberg. Swanberg has apparently recorded a song per day for over 1,000 days, and the four he offers up on Sex Boys are simple and sweet.

The Red Cords: Dead Heat EP [PNKSLM]

PNKSLM has been busy—in addition to putting out that Black Mekon LP (above), they also recently put out an EP from another UK outfit, the Red Cords. Today, they've shared the video for EP opener "Punk Eye". It's a track with tons of kinetic energy; appropriately, the video is just the longhair drummer getting pelted with various liquids and powders while wearing a white T-shirt featuring the words "Punk Eye" scrawled across it. By the end, the guy's sopping wet, pounding through the downpour of mystery substances while guitars wail in the background. Oh yeah, and he gets TP'd, feathered, and a pie in the face, too. 

Last year, Grimes cancelled tour dates because of her struggle with tinnitus. Photo by Daniel Cavazos.

A few months ago while photographing a concert in Montreal, I saw something I'd never seen at a show before: audience members covering their ears.

That image came back to me a little while later, when Grimes revealed her struggle with tinnitus and tweeted that the ringing in her ears was so loud she couldn’t sleep. I thought of it again when I read an interview with Zach Hill of Death Grips, in which he mentioned the ear blockage he experienced as a result of lifelong exposure to loud music. Then I came across a story about a music fan who killed himself over chronic hearing damage incurred at a concert. And another. And then, eight others—before unearthing a jarring world of message board threads dedicated to suicidal thoughts that result from tinnitus.

Tinnitus is a neurological problem that originates in the brain, involving miscommunication between noise-damaged sensory cells; the result is a continuous ringing sound in the ears. Tinnitus is permanent. Once sensitive hair cells are damaged, they can no longer transmit impulses to the auditory nerve and to the brain. 50 million Americans suffer from tinnitus (2 million become so debilitated by unrelenting ringing that they are incapable of carrying out normal daily activities), and musicians are at significantly higher risk than the general population. The only other group who suffer so ubiquitous from hearing damage are GIs exposed to wartime explosions.

Which leads me to wonder: If musicians and listeners are both suffering as a result of exposure to loud music, then why don’t venues just turn the volume down?

Nick Cageao, head of audio at Saint Vitus bar in Brooklyn, says the typical show at his venue ranges from around 98db (louder than a power drill) to 115db (20 db louder than the level at which sustained exposure may result in hearing loss). Tests of this sound level on rats have ruptured blood vessel walls.

Cageao says he tries to wear earplugs whenever possible—he’s actually endorsed by a company called Etymotic, who make a music pro series of hi-def earplugs. Like most of us, though, he often forgets to put them in. "I have some pretty harsh hearing damage around 4/5 khz and a persistent ring," he admits.

At her clinic at the New York Hearing Center, Kathy Feng has seen many patients with temporary hearing damage from rock concerts—but, reassuringly, she tells me that their damage is rarely full-blown tinnitus. "The degree of hearing damage [from loud music] has a lot to do with how long the person was exposed to dangerous levels of noise," says a representative from her team, who (much to the support of my mounting hypochondria) points out that riding the subway is also bad for your ears. (Cell phone usage also increases your risk of tinnitus.)

Prolonged exposure increases the risk of permanent damage. According to Phonak audiologist Daniela-Simone Feit, our ears need about 10 hours of rest in between bouts of extreme noise. Marcus Rimondini, a audio technician who works various venues in Australia, backs this up. "A lot of the older audio technicians who I've worked with, who started working through the 70s, 80s and 90s, always tell me how damaged their hearing is. The same goes for band managers who are just attending gig after gig."

There's a persistent notion that earplugs "lessen" the concert experience by cutting out important frequencies—though many professionals contend that's not necessarily true.

When properly inserted, foam earplugs block out dangerous frequencies. Custom earplugs, like those Cageao mentions, are made by taking an impression in the ear and then grafting a silicon earpiece to fit the mold. (Feng makes them at her clinic, usually for professional musicians.) Silicon won’t flex or shrink, and filters can be ordered to customize what sound frequencies can enter the transmitter, though you have to order them separately (and for a price).

Most agree that if earplugs are going to "cut out" any important sounds, it’ll be vocals, which sit on the high end of the mix and are hardest to capture because of the artist’s distance from the mic and the fact that they are constantly moving. Audiologists, however, agree that vocals aren’t loud enough to be blocked out even from cheap earplugs, which are designed to cut out only the dangerous frequencies. Some, like Cageao, think that earplugs might even benefit the listening experience by cancelling out a extraneous noise and "crappy frequencies," thus making the sound a little more compressed and even.

If you’re wondering why music is played so loudly to begin with, it varies—and it’s not going to change, because it’s often hard to control. "Most [artists] just want to be able to hear themselves clearly and ‘feel’ loud," says David Lefcort, an audio engineer in NYC (and former Pitchfork intern). There are legal limits on how loud a club can get, but the volume is usually set at a threshold that’s already considered "dangerous." A small room traps sound more effectively than a large one, and a full room also responds differently than an empty one (you’re better off in a crowd). Concrete reverberates sound (it’s a good idea to wear earplugs at a basement show) and the closer you are to the stage, the louder it will be.

It seems like the largest resistance to earplugs is cultural. Our social climate relegates earplugs to the same category as sunscreen and contraceptives—proactive measures that are easily mocked only because we secretly know how important they are. "I don't think the answer is changing the way music is performed," Lefcort says. "It's on the listeners to protect themselves."

John Dwyer, photographed by Nolan Wells

Over the last few years, there's been a lot of talk about the "San Francisco garage rock scene," primarily because of critically adored records and livewire shows from Ty Segall, Thee Oh Sees, the Fresh & Onlys, Sic Alps, Mikal Cronin, and many others. (Aaron Leitko wrote a 2011 Pitchfork feature about it called "Positive Destruction".) Suddenly, it seemed, the Bay Area was playing host to a renaissance of garage weirdos and studio wizards. 

But all good things must come to an end. Sic Alps have dissolved. The Fresh & Onlys' Tim Cohen lives in Arizona. On January 1, Thee Oh Sees' John Dwyer decamped to Los Angeles. Ty Segall, who relocated there a year ago, helped him move.

Segall and Dwyer are two in an increasingly lengthy list of artists who have migrated to Los Angeles. King Tuff, Woods' Kevin Morby, White Lung's Mish Way, Jessica Pratt, and Peach Kelli Pop have all reportedly moved to the city semi-recently.

That's not to say everyone is leaving San Francisco: Producer Eric Bauer (Segall's go-to studio collaborator), former Sic Alp Mike Donovan, Sonny Smith, Kelley Stoltz, and plenty of others are still around. There are some impressive showings coming from the city by gnarly punk bands like Scraper, Life Stinks, and CCR Headcleaner. But for his part, Dwyer felt that his time in the Bay Area was up.

"Basically I am moving to L.A. for a breath of fresh air (ironic, I know)," he told me in an email. "I've been in SF for ages and I'll always love it, but it's time for new horizons. Seemingly overnight, [San Francisco] has filled up with phone-scrolling, blank-faced wanderers (particularly in my neighborhood). I prefer a taco to a vintage glasses store any day. So yeah, time to shove off. Seems like a lot of artists, visual and musical, are hightailing it out."

Segall moved to Los Angeles to be closer to his sister. (He grew up in Orange County.) But he understands why his friends are starting to leave San Francisco. "It’s hard to cut it, man," he said of the city's cost of living, which poses a harsh financial reality for working artists. "If you’re not makin’ money, you just can’t cut it." Segall has friends who have been evicted from formerly cheap housing and not able to find another affordable living situation in the area.

That's one of the perks of Segall's move to L.A.: He was able to afford a place with a garage, and now, an in-garage studio. When I ask him about his studio, he downplays its capabilities, calling it "semi-legit" and "a weird import bootleg of a professional studio." But while it may just be Ty's demo studio, he's been working on records by bands like Endless Bummer, the Zig Zags, Wand, and White Fence. 

Tim Presley, aka White Fence, is another Bay Area expat who moved to L.A., though he made the journey about 10 years ago: 

I realized I could do whatever I wanted in this creative desert. I didn't have to answer to aging punks, bitter drunks, greedy landlords, and the fog/cold-inducing sinus infections. Do not get me wrong, I love the Bay. It's my DNA, and always will be. 924 Gilman St. is still my church. I just needed to move to a wide open vast, outerspace to be on my own, and find myself…. re-invent myself. Personally, I've found it easier to disappear in L.A., which is very important to me.

There is this draw to it, a creative freedom that goes beyond that "Hollywood dream," and for those not concerned with that "dream," it is a place where creative people can come together, swap ideas; its a place of artistic cultivation. Plus I think there is a certain seedy, creepy mystery that has always lived here. It's a good place for the freak, and the phantom.

Lance Barresi, co-owner of Permanent Records and member of Endless Bummer, moved to L.A. from Chicago to open a new Permanent location. He said he's begun to notice more artists moving to the area:

I don't think the underground scene here is as vibrant or communal as it is in Chicago, but as more bands move here, I think it could be just as good or better. I think a lot of people avoided moving to L.A. previously because they got the wrong idea about what L.A. is all about. If you visit L.A. and end up getting stuck on the westside or in Hollywood, you might not think L.A. is the place for you. However, if you're into the kinds of things we're into and you visit Northeast L.A., you'll probably have a much better experience... The Northeast part of L.A. is rapidly becoming one of the raddest places to be in America, especially for people into going to shows, buying records, and going to cafes, bars, and restaurants.

Both Segall and Dwyer have plans to return to San Francisco for creative purposes. Dwyer's label Castle Face is still based in SF. He says he plans to continue the label's new Live in San Francisco LP series, though he said he might do some live records in L.A., too. And while Segall has built his own studio, his partner Bauer just signed a lease to keep his studio open for another seven years. "I’ll always work with Bauer—he's King Riff, man," Segall said. "It definitely is a huge reason to go back and work there and do stuff in San Francisco."

At some point while Segall helped Dwyer move, the two made plans to jam. When I asked if Segall thinks it could turn into something bigger, he said, "Dwyer and I have always talked about doing something, but we’ve never had the time to do anything." Now that they're in the same city again, it could happen. "Maybe we can figure something out," he said.

White Lung seem like they're due for some new music sometime soon. King Tuff has seemingly been in the studio. There are debut LPs coming out from impressive newcomers like Endless Bummer and Morgan Delt. Ty Segall is working on new material, getting the Segall Band back together this year, and producing albums for a bunch of bands. Dwyer's got a solo album and a new Oh Sees album out this year. It goes without saying, but things are definitely brewing in Los Angeles—a huge city positioned for a potentially huge 2014.

Down Is Up discusses music that falls slightly under the radar of our usual coverage: demos and self-releases, as well as output from small or overlooked labels and communities. This week, Jenn Pelly highlights music from San Francisco's Flesh World, Copenhagen's Hand of Dust, and a new set of reissues from cult Portland punk band Dead Moon.

01 Flesh World - The 2008 noise-pop boom spawned a whole new era of clangor and melody in miniature—Dum Dum Girls, Crystal Stilts, the Pains—most of whom have moved on to stake out higher-profile territory in the rock scene. One band from that wave that went a bit overlooked was San Francisco trio Brilliant Colors, who put out 2009's Introducing and 2011's Again and Again. Maybe they're more fresh on my mind because my roommate Pier wears their t-shirt around our apartment all the time (she got it at the memorable 2011 Brooklyn warehouse gig they did with Bad Banana). So when I came across Flesh World, this new punk band featuring Brilliant Colors singer/guitarist Jess Scott—not to mention members of the long-running queercore/hardcore bands Limp Wrist and Needles—I felt inclined to hit play. Imagine the spiky melodies and washes of reverb that must be ingrained in a songwriter who has done two records for Slumberland mixed with the driving intensity of cold, post-punk spirit—skull-piercing guitar feedback, scratchy riffs, anxious drum builds, ominous moods, and bright guitar hooks when you'd least expect them.

02 Hand of Dust - It's rare that I'm grabbed by a band on the basis of a YouTube video alone, but last year I was intrigued by one from the Copenhagen rock trio Hand of Dust—as featured in the first installment of this column. Anyone paying attention knows Copenhagen has recently been in no short supply of bands like this: tense, poetic, sky-summoning rock groups pulling from goth and neofolk. Hand of Dust's urgency resurfaced with one of the best tracks from last year's Dokument 1 compilation, and now they've finally let go their great, concise debut EP, Without Grace or Glory, for free on Bandcamp and on 7" vinyl in the U.S. through Blind Prophet. The band, it turns out, is led by Bo Høyer Hansen, a former member of the raw black metal band Sexdrome alongside Lower's Anton Rothstein and Loke Rahbek of Vår, Lust for Youth, and Posh Isolation.

03 Dead Moon reissues - Mississippi Records has recently done a fine job of bringing the catalogue of barebones, country-tinged Portland garage-punk legends Dead Moon back to vinyl. (The band's husband-and-wife duo of Fred and Toody Cole currently play in Pierced Arrows.) Now fellow Portland label M'Lady's Records will bring Dead Moon's incredible and largely overlooked collection of albums back into print on CD. "Dead Moon are my favorite American group," said M'Lady's co-head Brett Lyman. "They are a beautiful distillation of a lot of the values and ideas that I cherish about making art and music." On February 11 they'll reissue 1988's In the Graveyard, 1989's Unknown Passage, and 1990's Defiance, and on March 11 1991's Stranded in the Mystery Zone, 1992's Strange Pray Tell, 1994's Crack in the System, and 2000's Trash & Burn, with more to come.

Check out the trailer for the 2004 documentary Unknown Passage: The Dead Moon Story:

And their 1988 debut:

In 2007, Lou Barlow, Jason Lowenstein, and Eric Gaffney—the incarnation of Sebadoh responsible for classics like Sebadoh III and Bubble and Scrape—reunited for a tour. Shortly after it was over, Gaffney was in a bike accident in which he broke multiple bones and, in his words, "nearly died... I was in a sling with a head full of morphine, codeine, and muscle relaxers."

Gaffney has spent the years since making tons of interesting music away from the Sebadoh spotlight. Much of it can be heard and bought via three Bandcamp sites that Gaffney runs, all of which teem with sounds made in many different locales and time periods. It can be tough to sort out exactly what’s from where and when, but it doesn’t really matter—just dive in anywhere and you’ll find something worth listening to.

You might want to start with Gaffney’s current solo project, which he has humbly dubbed Jesus Christ. The JC Bandcamp page currently has 16 releases that span over 30 years, from his earliest recordings as a teenager covering Devo and the Ramones, to compelling mid-aughts material he made on a four-track while living in San Francisco (try the varied Uncharted Waters from that period), to music he’s made more recently after moving back to Massachusetts.

Everything from the latter category is pretty excellent: There’s the growling America’s Drug, the energetic Christ, the Lord, and the mellower Stop Eating Animals! (which he’s billed as his newest record, though confusingly enough it comprises material from his SF stint).  Strewn throughout are some semi-protest songs, like a punky anthem imploring people to "Go Vegan" and a teetotaller screed called "I Hate Alcohol". But it’s all done with humor and playfulness—perhaps only Gaffney could make a song about dying from "Cancer of the Face!" sound fun.

Gaffney’s other two bandcamp sites are more curio-oriented, but there’s still tons of intriguing sounds on both. The Fields of Gaffney site primarily documents his early-00s band of that name, who played a fleshed-out version of his homemade pop. In typical non-linear fashion, the site also includes solo material, like the classic-rock-cover-filled The World Turned Upside Down and the epic Face of Man, a 35-track monster that includes embryonic versions of Sebaoh tunes like "Violet Execution" and "Mean Distance". The Eric Sebadoh site is full of even more history, offering early unreleased Sebadoh, music from Gaffney’s 80s band Grey Matter, and the experimental sounds of the Gracefully Aging Hippy Soloists, his duo with the late Charles Ondras of Unsane. The latter is so unique it’s odd that it hadn’t seen the light of day before now.

The same goes for Gaffney’s ongoing Jesus Christ work, and he’s not shy about that. He's mentioned in interviews that he’s long sought someone to release his music, and on the bandcamp page for Face of Man he bluntly ask listeners to "LET A RECORD LABEL KNOW I'M INTERESTED IN GETTING MY MUSIC OUT PROPERLY ON VINYL AND CD AND CASSETTE…" A cynic might see that as desperate, but to me it’s refreshingly honest. And it’s justified: Gaffney has made fascinating music for decades, and it deserves to be heard by as many ears as possible.

The new issue of the UK magazine The Wire has the first-ever face-to-face interview with reclusive and enigmatic singer-songwriter Jandek. These may or may not be among the landmark interview’s revelations. 

10) Since 2003, Corwood Industries has been a fully-owned subsidiary of Interscope with an in-house staff of 27

9) While recording his forthcoming studio album, he "totally started getting into Fleetwood Mac and 90s R&B"

8) Nancy in "Nancy Sings" was actually then-California Democratic Party Chair Nancy Pelosi

7) When asked if he had any "funny tour stories," he mentions the time his roadie was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia 

6) After the success of 1982’s Staring at the Cellophane, he turned down an offer to form Crosby, Stills, Nash & Jandek

5) His favorite GIF is the one where Jedi cat’s paws turn into lightsabers

4) His 1996 album White Box Requiem was originally intended to be a song-by-song answer to Liz Phair’s Exile in Guyville

3) He first realized guitars needed to be tuned around the time of 1987’s Blue Corpse but decided to just roll with it

2) A Units reunion is completely off the table because, at this point, the members all hate each other

1) He did it all for the nookie

Shake Appeal is a column that highlights new garage and garage-adjacent releases. This time, Evan Minsker looks at records by together PANGEA and Pookie and the Poodlez. But first, an homage to the late Travis Jackson.

Late Wednesday night, Travis Jackson was killed. He was the founder of Windian Records and the drummer in the D.C. garage punk outfit the Points. He was a construction worker and was struck in a collision while on the job, The Washington Post reports.

It's horrible news. I didn't know Travis personally outside a few brief email exchanges. He sent me some unsolicited vinyl a couple times, which was hugely appreciated since he was behind one of the most underrated rock'n'roll record labels of the past five years. The label put out some incredible new records (Spider Fever) and reissued tons of archival punk gems. He was an absolutely ferocious drummer. He will be missed.

A fund has been set up to assist his wife Ashley and his son Link. Contribute here.

Windian still has a few records forthcoming, but here's a Spotify playlist featuring some of the label's best tracks to date (including the Points' "Shout!"). Listen here.

Here's Jackson performing with the Points:

together PANGEA: Badillac [Harvest]

California shredders together PANGEA are back with their latest album (and their first with the word "together" in the band name). Awesomely titled Badillac, it's exactly the ripper you'd expect from these dudes. When they turn the volume up, they go over the top, screaming over fuzz-thickened guitars and a belligerent drum attack. On the title track, things get markedly quieter—though the drums smack just as hard. It's actually a record that's catchy and hi-fi enough that it sounds like it could feasibly cross over. And then that notion goes away on "Sick Shit", when William Keegan sings about his flaccid penis.

together PANGEA: "Badillac" on SoundCloud.

Pookie and the Poodlez: The Last Thing I Did as a Teenager [Rubber Vomit]

The debut EP from Pookie and the Poodlez packs some sleazy glam pop that ought to appeal to any fans of the early Hunx & His Punx and Nobunny records. (The vinyl edition of this EP is out this week via Nobunny's label Rubber Vomit.) Trevor Straub has delivered eight songs—under two minutes a piece—of ridiculously catchy pop hooks. "If you wanna kiss me, baby, that's all right, but maybe I'm just too stoned right now," Straub (Pookie) sings on "Pookie Smoochez". Kissing, weed, distorted guitars, heavy percussion, and a handclap-ready pop tune. The whole thing smacks of "Hey Rocky", and along with the other six tracks on The Last Thing I Did as a Teenager, it's a great shot of sweet'n'sour rock'n'roll fun.

We often blow off doing things we know are good for us because we know they’re a drag. For some people this means learning a second language; for some it means keeping an eye on blood glucose levels. But these days, no matter what tedioius task you're struggling to accomplish, some startup's developed an app to make it seem fun enough that you might actually do it.

I’m one of what is undoubtedly a large number of musicians who’s wanted to get into modular synthesizers but haven’t because, admittedly... learning how they work sounds complicated and boring. Traditional instruments like guitars, drums, and pianos make intuitive sense, and anyone with the slightest shred of innate musical talent should be able to figure them out—to some extent—without any outside help. Modular synthesizers, on the other hand, present newcomers with a steep learning curve. To me, it's always seemed like the difference between learning to drive and learning to rebuild a carburetor.

The Synth Kit developed by Korg and NYC-based littleBits, which makes a line of snap-together electronics projects, is the least intimidating modular synth that I’ve encountered. Each kit comes with an assortment of typical modular synth components (oscillators, envelopes, filters), plus a miniature keyboard controller, a very basic sequencer, and a speaker. The components are small enough that you can hold several in your hand at once, and the whole thing runs off a 9-volt battery.

Instead of connecting each component to the next using cables, the Synth Kit's components snap together magnetically. Each kit comes with a helpful guidebook that offers suggestions about different configurations, but the ease with which the pieces can be reordered and swapped in and out encourages trial and error, which is how pretty much everyone—even the people who read manuals—learn what different parts of a modular synth are for. (You don’t need to learn what a filter cutoff knob actually does to the audio signal in order to figure out how it affects the sound itself.)

The Synth Kit’s modules are radically simple—mostly just a couple knobs and/or switches apiece. This also makes things easier (and more fun) for the novice user. With such a limited number of controls the odds are much greater that adjusting one at random will tweak the sound in a noticeable way.

As dumbed-down as the Synth Kit was designed to be, it’s still a genuine modular analog synthesizer, just like it says on the box. Like its even simpler predecessor the Korg Monotron, it’s actually a legitimately decent monophonic synthesizer, despite its functional limitations.

After spending less than an hour with it I plugged it into GarageBand and made the above (admittedly pretty basic) track using nothing but different Synth Kit configurations and a tiny bit of GB compression and EQ on the "drums," which took me about 45 minutes total. It could probably have done it in half the time I hadn’t had so many takes ruined by the magnetic connections between the modules breaking, but this is what I mean when I’m talking about limitations.

After spending some time with the Synth Kit I’m not about to go splurge on a Eurorack setup or anything, but that’s mostly a factor of my personal finances. (I really should start using that gamify-your-budget app that I have on my phone...) But I do feel like I have a considerably more developed practical grasp of how analog synthesis works. The next time I’m confronted with a big, complicated synth with more than six or eight knobs I probably won’t know exactly what I’m doing—but at least I’ll know where to start.

California rapper Hopsin doing his signature crowd-walk

Funk Volume is a DIY hip-hop label from Southern California, and despite millions of Youtube views and several sold-out shows across America, you’ve probably never heard of them. If A$AP Mob are the fashionable dudes who get the girls, Odd Future are the class clowns popping Xanax and snorting pixie sticks, and Chief Keef’s drill peers are the athletes who want to kick your ass—then Funk Volume are the dropouts.

Funk Volume was established in 2009 after one of the label’s co-founders, Hopsin, was unceremoniously dumped from Ruthless Records, the hip-hop label founded by Eazy-E and N.W.A. manager Jerry Heller. Hopsin had been a basement rapper whose YouTube videos blended the vitriolic character-spoofing of Slim Shady-era Eminem with the fisheye lens associated with late-90’s Busta Rhymes; much like Tyler the Creator, the content was self-loathing and borderline masturbatory. After Ruthless dropped him, though, he founded Funk Volume with Damien "Dame" Ritter, a former consultant whose little brother, SwizZz, they subsequently signed. Hopsin had dropped out of high school, SwizZz had dropped out of college, and Dame had dropped out of the corporate world in pursuit of something more down-to-earth. Dizzy Wright, Jarren Benton,and producer DJ Hoppa joined the three and collectively launched the label through social media—connecting with fans directly and booking their own shows without any outside sponsors.  

The hypestorm really began when Hopsin’s “Ill Mind of Hopsin 5” earned over a million YouTube views in 24 hours. Tech N9ne invited him to do a guest verse on “Am I A Psycho?”; BET put him in a cypher with Schoolboy Q and Mystikal. In February 2012, he was on the cover of XXL for their annual Top 10 Freshmen list (class of Danny Brown). Dizzy, another Funk Volume dignitary, made the same list the following year, alongside Joey BadA$$ and Travis Scott. He and Hopsin have a mixtape that is now certified Gold on DatPiff, and Funk Volume just confirmed a showcase for South By Southwest.

The artist-fan internet relationship that made Funk Volume possible is similar to the phenomenon that surrounds Lil B, and the recently released Independent Living: The Funk Volume Documentary gives us a glimpse inside that dynamic. We see Dizzy and DJ Hoppa doing ad-hoc recordings in a hotel room, apeshit loyal fans who’ve tattooed the artists’ lyrics onto their bodies, and lots of time spent on the road in Middle America. And yet, the film also captures moments that make touring worth the hustle: Hopsin hanging upside down from a ceiling pipe, rapping over hundreds of screaming fans in a basement—crowds so dense that Hopsin walks across their hands like Jesus on water.

Sure, not every lyric—“I sag my pants until my ass shows/ Because I’m an asshole”—is a winner, and Hopsin’s white contact lenses (which he wears at every show) might seem a tad gimmicky. But Independent Living is revelatory because it shows that Funk Volume have no illusions about what they aren’t. As DJ Hoppa says in the film, “We are not in the Rolling Stone lane….we aren’t there yet.” Fair enough. But so far they’ve proven that they can make a living off their independent-minded music—which is more than you can say about most people in the industry today.

Down Is Up discusses music that falls slightly under the radar of our usual coverage: demos and self-releases, as well as output from small or overlooked labels and communities. This week, Jenn Pelly highlights music from Swedish indie-pop band Makthaverskan, a new 7" from Grass Widow side-project Bridge Collapse, and a video from the Courtneys.

01 Makthaverskan - If you asked me about Swedish music in 2013, I'd likely throw my hands up and wail a very out-of-tune "Call Your Girlfriend"... or mention Goat. Pop singer/songwriter Jens Lekman would probably come to mind, as would the Knife's synth-pop manifestos, the balearic sounds of Studio (R.I.P.), and the rest of the Swedish pop tradition outlined in Marc Hogan's recent history of the Sincerely Yours label.

Guitars, and the various strands of scrappy rock and indie pop they allow, would be another story. "In Stockholm, there is no scene," Pitchfork's Jeremy Larson wrote last year in his review of Forever by Holograms, one of the only Swedish post-punk bands to recently cross my radar. And while I'd heard of the punk scene in Malmö, specifically the band Terrible Feelings, this 2013 LP from six-year-old Gothenburg band Makthaverskan has moved me most—a soaring, hard-hitting dream-pop record that's dark in theme but sonically all blue-skies.

I'd heard about Makthaverskan II (thanks to Impose) but didn't really process its raw, visceral urgency until this recent feature on the blog Coco's OCD, in which the band describes its origins setting out to fend off and totally invert the "happy and cute pop music" coming out of Gothenburg around 2008. They played their first gig at a squat with only a few songs and a drum kit made of cardboard boxes and metal lampshades. Their sound has become nearly anthemic since then, but vocalist Maja Milner still shouts her heart out like there's no microphone in sight. "Fuck you for fucking me when I was seventeen," Maja sings on II's height of power, "No Mercy", ill-wishing a lover who stole her youth and sense of self. "You never loved me/ You wanted to own me/ Your time will come, my friend." She wins. 

02 Bridge Collapse - In their seven years of existence, the leaderless San Francisco trio Grass Widow have become known for their approach to impressionistic post-punk: Interlocking three-part harmonies and an otherworldly chemistry bind members Hannah Lew, Raven Mahon, and Lillian Maring. Dummer and vocalist Maring released her first solo LP as Ruby Pins last year, while Lew, who is also a filmmaker, began a new label, Crime on the Moon. Her first release was a single from her own side-project Cold Beat. Next up is a new trio that finds Lew regrouping with Mahon to write songs as Bridge Collapse, a more driving and shambolic strand of surf-punk that brings guitar feedback, buried spoken passages, and spiky basslines into the mix. Check out the A-side of their new 7", "Wilderness" here, which also features Jon Shade of primitive SF punk band Rank/Xerox on drums.

Bridge Collapse: "Wilderness" on SoundCloud.

03 The Courtneys "Lost Boys" video - Last year Vancouver trio the Courtneys released a great and somewhat overlooked 12" of smart kiwi-style post-punk, which they're planning to follow up sometime this year with a new full-length record. Check out the video for its first single "Lost Boys" below, directed by Rose Gagnon and shot by Andrew Volk. (The song and video are an homage to the film of the same name.) "Lost Boys" will also be out as a single this month through Burger Records.

Welcome to Mixdown, an ongoing series where Pitchfork contributors talk about mixtapes and mixes that may not be covered in our reviews section but are worth discussing. Today, we're ruminating on Justin Bieber (again), talking about Young Thug's new mixtape with Bloody Jay and a new release from Tink, and looking at the state of Young Money.

Corban Goble: This is a black day for Beliebers. However, it only strengthens my faith. Jesus himself would have been destroyed by the 24-hour news cycle. Fittingly, the passage where Jesus drove his Lambo into a ditch has been excised from most major texts.

Carrie Battan: A black day? In the long run it’ll probably wind up being a great day for Bieber, who’s just gotten that much closer to adulthood and a sustainable career as a teeny-bopper-turned-grownup. I’ve also been thinking all day that if I were Bieber I’d be doing stuff like drunk drag-racing in Miami, too. I wonder if he is in therapy. Carrie Battan: supporter of misconduct (in the long run).

Are either of you guys current on the status of Bieber’s relationship with Lil Twist? They were estranged the last I checked in. It would be a really good look for all parties if Lil Twist got Bieber to contribute to the new Young Money compilation. What am I saying? If Drake got Bieber to contribute to the new Young Money compilation.

CG: I haven't heard much about the Bieber-Twist bromance lately. But in those Instagram videos Biebz posted yesterday, he's hooping with Mack Maine. So, seems like it’s not impossible!

CB: The first single from that compilation “We Alright”: really not bad! The new Young Money signee, Euro—who evidently lives in Providence, Rhode Island—sounds like a baby Drake without the singing.

JS: The hottest rapper in the game right now is named Young Thug, so I guess I shouldn’t ask how someone named Euro gets a lead single with Lil Wayne and Birdman, but: How does someone named Euro get a lead single with Lil Wayne and Birdman?

CB: Technically it's €uro. 

CG: Jordan, Y. U. Mad?  My question is, between “We Alright” and YG’s “My Nigga” remix—is Wayne back?

JS: Initially I didn’t listen to this track because I literally thought it was some European guy rapping. What it actually is isn’t any better though—I'm not sure we really need another Young Money compilation. Didn’t we just have one like three months ago? On the other hand, it probably means more Nicki, and everyone is dying for more Nicki right now.

CB: And everyone is dying to finally hear Drake’s “Trophies”, which is on the compilation (such a slap in the face to Young Money from Drake considering he put it on OVO's soundcloud weeks ago). 

Young Thug and Bloody Jay: Black Portland

CB: Back to what you said about rappers with bad names: There’s a new Young Thug mixtape with Bloody Jay, a guy who was not previously on my radar but made a really good first impression here—he makes the first reference to R.L. Stine's Goosebumps series I've ever heard on a song. Young Thug is not as spastic and through-the-roof excited as he usually is, but I'm fine with it because you can hear the nuances of his rapping without the shock value of his crazy voice. He still sounds interesting. 

CG: But then a song like ”Florida Water” approaches 1017 Thug levels of alien.

Question: What is the rationale behind the name Black Portland?

CB: That’s what I was going to ask you sports writers...

JS: Truly the most important question in America right now. I like this tape, obviously. Push comes to shove, I’d prefer an IV drip of pure Young Thug, but this is good enough. Bloody Jay doesn’t have the pop instincts or the manic delivery of Thug, but I totally get how some people might want a counterpoint.

Still, the best stuff here is from Thug, mainly the hook of “4 Eva Bloody.” He has these tracks—“Who’s on Top,” and “I Know Ya” are good examples—where it sounds like he’s recording on a rollercoaster or something. Or maybe that’s what it feels like to listen to Thug’s best stuff: Even after you’ve heard a track a dozen times, you still get the thrill of him whipping his flow around or stepping on the gas pedal has he launches into a chorus. What an original.

CG: How would you describe Young Thug and Bloody Jay in Portland Blazers terms? For Thug, I was thinking like Dame Lillard deceptiveness spliced with Robin Lopez’s more surrealist imagination, but I’m open to something involving Meyers Leonard as well.

JS: Young Thug is totally the delirious headrush of Lillard and Wes Matthews making a combined 12 three-pointers during a nationally televised home game. Bloody Jay is probably Leonard? Wild young buck who might not amount to a consistent player but still could fly off the rails at any point in time. Corban, should we alienate every single one of our readers by figuring out who is the rapper version of Thomas Robinson?

CG: Thomas himself is a huge fan of Shy Glizzy. Is it Shy Glizzy?

JS: I think he’s Wale before the career renaissance, but we should just move on for a number of reasons.

Tink: Winter's Diary 2

CB: Last time Tink was on Mixdown, we weren’t all that kind to her—I thought her last mixtape was dull and she didn’t really merit any attention. She can seem like she's trying too hard to prove herself as a lyricist, almost to an Angel Haze degree. So I was happy to love Winter’s Diary 2, which is almost strictly R&B. Tink is a great singer. If this were 2001, a song like “Dirty Slang” would maybe be a single on major-label and it’d get a “TRL”-grade video. (I keep waiting for Drake to show up on this mixtape in the male guest parts; maybe that’s because Tink shares some of her sound with Jhené Aiko.)

CG: I also thought of Angel Haze—Winter’s Diary 2 seems to be a way more honest record than the overreaching Dirty Gold. Her last mixtape didn’t do much for me either, so I appreciate the fact that she’s trying something different on Winter’s Diary 2, something that probably plays to her strengths more than Boss Up. I also like that she's loosening up in general and not building off whatever drill-related hype new Chicago rappers are subjected to. I didn’t like Winter’s Diary 2 as much as you did—a lot of the hooks didn’t stick to me—but she's going in a better direction.

JS: I think she has a bit of a richer voice than Cassie derivatives like Aiko. The two songs I really love on this are “Treat Me Like Somebody” and “2 and 2”, both of which are these little acoustic tracks. They showcase her voice more than any of the others and it’s a bit of a different sound than you hear from most underground R&B artists right now. “2 and 2” especially shows off what she can do with her voice, both in the way she hits notes and in how she plays around with phrasing. Personally, I wouldn’t mind her going full R&B, but there’s something exciting in what happens when she fuses the two. I guess that Angel Haze album is the storm cloud hovering in the distance, though.

CB: I heard you can make that cloud go away by standing in front of a mirror and chanting Broke With Expensive Taste three times in a row.

Lindsay Zoladz: Larry! Hello. I haven't seen you since the Grammys aired, so I feel like the Ryan Lewis groom to your blushing Macklemore bride. Much to discuss about the night my mom realized for the first time that Lorde is a singer and not "Madonna's daughter with the eyebrows." How did you celebrate Music's Biggest Night™?

Larry Fitzmaurice: Some would say I rang in Music's Biggest Night exactly how our dark Grammy overlords would have wanted me to—sitting in the back of an empty Williamsburg bar & grill, watching it on a projector screen. The tomato soup was too salty, but it had more flavor than most of the telecast (BAZINGA!). Lindsay, I heard your MBN Experience™ was, uh, a bit more eventful. Do share!

LZ: Yes, so, because I cannot resist the promise of elaborate hors d'Oeurves and also the antenna on my TV does not pick up CBS, I ended up at the Recording Academy's New York viewing party at a club in Chelsea called Marquee. To set the scene: As I was waiting in the line to get in, a woman in a fur coat walked up behind me and said, "Why is there a line?" I don't know, sometimes there are lines? It was at that exact moment I realized that my nail polish was chipped.

On the bright side, I walked in right as Beyoncé started "Drunk in Love", and one of my favorite moments of the night was hearing an entire room full of fancy people shout "HOW THE HELL DID THIS SHIT HAPPEN OH BABUH" into the void created by the FCC's inexplicably long Beyoncé bleep. It was almost like being in the "Picasso Baby" video. What did you think of the Bey/Jay performance? 

LF: I mean, I'm not going to deny the awesomeness of the performance itself, but my heart sank when the opening moments of the telecast revealed that Bey would be kicking off the show. As usual, there were a lot of potentially boring-to-terrible performances planned this year, and when you kick things off with Beyoncé, you're saying to everyone who's chosen to engage in the self-flagellating activity of watching this goddamn thing, "Things will only get worse from here." It should be noted, though, that I watched the entirety of the pre-telecast, so I sorely needed the burst of energy that Beyoncé and Jay-Z provided.

LZ: Wow, Larry, I can't believe you watched the entire pre-telecast; I'm sorry that you hate yourself. I saw you Instagramming screenshots of Cyndi Lauper and thought for a second, "Aww they are letting Hayley Williams' mom host this, cute."

LF: Cyndi! LL Cool J is obviously a pro at hosting this show at this point—he's endearingly corny, even if our own set drinking game of "drink every time it's unclear if LL's banter is leading into a joke or not" resulted in a high bar tab—but I hereby nominated Cyndi Lauper to host every awards show ever. She was constantly asking the audience how they were doing, rhapsodizing on the wonders of music in general, and flubbing pre-written introductions as if she had just learned how to read the morning of the ceremony. At one point, she began to introduce a musical act that wasn't even scheduled to play at that moment—and when she realized her mistake, she stopped, stumbled, and said "I fucked up" straight into the camera. You can't do THAT on television!

The pre-telecast is actually fascinating because it serves as a great equalizer for all the nominees and recipients of the awards not deemed telecast-worthy to exist on the same "Not Ready for Prime Time" plane—so, yeah, this sentence is probably the only time I'll mention Herb Alpert and Vampire Weekend in the same breath. Speaking of: When Vampy Weeks picked up their Best Alternative Music Album award, Ezra Koenig's speech was standoffishly short ("Thanks a lot. [Gestures to band] You guys wanna say anything else? [Brief pause] Nah, we're good. Thanks!", which made it funnier when, during the MTV red carpet pre-show less than an hour later, Koenig claimed that he had quoted a Bible verse (Corinthians, to be exact) during his speech, the pre-show host taking him completely seriously. That said, the low point was definitely my decision to watch the MTV pre-show (Sway, I can't even with you).

While we're talking about hosts, Lindsay, the event you were at had a special host, I hear...

LZ: It's true, the Recording Academy screening was "hosted" by Entourage: the Movie's Adrian Grenier (YEAH YEAH), though as far as I could tell "hosting" in that context meant "hanging out and posing for iPhone photos"—if only it had meant just that for poor LL too. Anyway, my night involved nervously drinking vodka cranberries and pretending like I fit in. But who cares, can I skip ahead and air a perennial Grammy grievance of mine? 

LF: YEAH YEAH!

LZ: So you know how every single year the Grammys end with one of those cock-rock "all star tribute" performances that involves like seven dudes playing rhythm guitar? Has a woman *ever* been allowed to play in one of those, or is there something in the Grammy Constitution prohibiting that? Seriously. Committee members: As a female viewer and a (er, former/super amateur) musician I feel alienated any time you interpret the term "all star" to mean "all men." It tells the young women watching that they shouldn't bother aspiring to greatness. So here, I will make it easy for you and give you a list of artists you should consider calling next year: Annie Clark, Marissa Paternoster, Danielle Haim, Marnie Stern, Carrie Brownstein, Mary Timony, Kaki King, Brittany Howard… also why do people somehow forget that Taylor Swift is a very good guitarist? She was sitting right in the front row, and if they would have invited her up I might have actually watched through the end of the performance, instead of feeling bored and marginalized and deciding to try and beat the coat check line.

OK, back to our regularly scheduled program. Larry, what was your favorite performance of the night? Aside from Daft Punk (we'll get to them), I might have to go with Lorde's hyper-minimal take on "Royals". She's got a unique presence on camera and I always find her absolutely transfixing to watch.

LF: Well, we can take solace that even the producers of the telecast themselves didn't deem this year's dude-bro RAWK-FEST too important (TELL 'EM WHY U MAD, TRENT), but funny you mention the gender divide… save for the Daft Punk collab-a-palooza, two of the strongest and engaging performances of the night came from women with instruments in hand. I'm talking about Taylor Swift's elegiac-yet-whiplash-triggering performance of "All Too Well"—you seriously earned the right to dumb out during Kendrick's performance, Taylor—and Kasey Musgraves taking the stage for "Follow Your Arrow", which found the country singer performing amidst neon cacti that looked as if they were ripped from the window of a Chili's, but triumphing regardless.

LZ: I caught the faintest whiff of Stevie Nicks' Fajita Roundup.

LF: I briefly mentioned Kendrick Lamar and Imagine Dragons' unholy matrimony—good kid, m.A.A.d. shitty?—so let's get down and dirty: Who sucked the most this year? Hard to narrow it down, I know...

LZ: Remember when Kendrick shouted out Imagine Dragons in the "Control" verse? That was trill.

Well, I thought Katy Perry's Evanescence-Video-Directed-by-the-Max-Fischer-Players was a hot mess, but all the fire and sexy witch imagery certainly distracted you from how bad that song is, so... mission accomplished? Also, call me cynical, but everything about that Macklemore performance left a bad taste in my mouth. (Jenn Pelly and I are talking about it in another window right now, and she called it "so hilariously try-hard that it was almost sad to watch." Cosign.)

One theory I've had for a while that really calcified for me last night: Macklemore is the anti-Kanye. His text to Kendrick saying that GKMC should have won Best Rap Album feels like the polar opposite of Kanye's usual award show antics (who can forget when he walked out of the 2004 AMAs when he lost Best New Artist?). But I'd rather our pop stars have the blazingly honest conviction of a Kanye, rather than the smarmy faux-modesty of a Macklemore. As Carrie said, "Bro… isn't your attempt at humility undermined by your decision to post your text on social media in an awkward, self-congratulatory way?" Where was Yeezy last night, and why *wasn't* the (nonexistent) Lou Reed tribute just Kanye performing Metal Machine Music in its entirety? Surely the man himself would have approved.

LF: On the one hand, I understand why Kanye wouldn't bother showing his face at this thing—the Grammys are, simply, the worst, and this year seemed like an especially, endlessly dull telecast comparatively to ones in recent memory—but the lack of surprises provided by genuine attention-grabbers and troublemakers of his ilk contributed to the telecast's deep drag.

That said: Daft Punk! They came, they won, and they even performed this time, too (fuck you, VMAs). What did you think of the Night of the Living Robots, Lindsay?

LZ: Straight up, the Daft Punk/Pharrell/Nile Rogers/Stevie motherfucking Wonder medley was my favorite thing to happen on the Grammys in years. Unlike the Macklemore stunt, it felt loose, organic, and fun... I thought I had reached my "Get Lucky" saturation point months ago, but somehow this morning I was compelled put it on repeat. I'm also surprised at how genuinely triumphant Daft Punk's Album of the Year win felt (like many, I assumed that Macklemore would take the top prize). It was a defibrillator to my cold robot heart: During their acceptance speech (Paul Williams!) my friend and I (who, naturally, had spent most of the telecast making fun of everything) started waxing nostalgic about the first time we heard Homework.

The upset I was secretly hoping for would have been Kendrick nabbing Album of the Year, but honestly we're all winners because we have heard Yoko Ono say the words good kid, m.a.a.d. city. Unexpected highlight of the show: Did America actually fall in love with Yoko Ono last night? Finally? I feel like I have spent half my life defending my Yoko love against the boring, dumb, and generally racist/sexist "lol she broke up the Beatles" world view, but on Twitter at least I could feel the tides shifting. (If last night was the first time in your life you considered the possibility that Yoko Ono actually rules, you should read Lisa Carver's book Reaching Out With No Hands. It's really good!)

LZ: Any final thoughts, Larry?

LF: I have no personal investment in any awards that I'm not receiving myself (#factsonly), so I tend to approach the Grammys—and every award show, by extension—from a Russell Crowe-esque viewpoint of "Am I not entertained?" Like an irresponsible motorist, I'm in it for the car wrecks, so I was hoping for some truly terrible shit a la Mark Foster trying to sing "California Girls" with eternal villain Mike Love last year, but despite the potential for eternal suckitude—Robin Thicke and Chicago! Kendrick Lamagine Dragons! Metallica, period!—the lowlights were simply mediocre to the point of total safety (Katy Perry's amazingly trashy "Rap game Six Flags Fright Fest" stage setup aside). By my count, the most engagingly horrible performance was the Pepsi Grammys Halftime Show commercial (featuring Wale, naturally)—and that was a fucking commercial.

Bottom line, I am a masochist when it comes to media consumption (I'll show you my ticket stub for The Devil's Due to prove it), so I look forward to watching the Grammys again next year and every year until I decide to smother myself with Pharrell's giant hat.

LZ: I am left with only a few lingering questions—what do Pat Smear and Paul McCartney talk about? does Ryan Lewis speak?—and an overwhelming sense of contentment at the fact Queen Latifah is now ordained. Because Music's Biggest Night Is Always Full of Surprises™, I am now engaged to Turtle from "Entourage", and the Queen will be presiding over our wedding.

LF: YEAH YEAH.