Nostalgia, Ultra: How the ‘90s killed the last 12 months

Musical trends return every 20 years, we know this. The ‘80s had us sentimental for The Wonder Years, the ‘90s had show bands reviving every horrible disco/senti/crossover song ever written, and the ‘00s saw the return of shoulder pads and synthesizers. As a ‘90s kid, I was eagerly awaiting its return this decade. I thought to myself, “OMG here we go grunge is gonna come back and everyone’s gonna sound like Sleater-Kinney and Pavement I’m so excited!”

And so this year the ‘90s did come back, but not in the way I expected it to. Instead of dirty lo-fi indie rock and angst-y female-fronted alternative music, we get a revival of the cheesy ‘90s pop I thought everyone locked up, threw away and pretended never existed.

It was even better than I hoped, and I loved it.

Sky Ferreira and her Debbie Gibson handclapped percussions, I Break Horses and their Martika-smooth vocals, Haim and their insane amalgam of ‘90s heroes from Wilson Philips to Sheryl Crow, Chvrches and their EMF-inspired synth-programmed “oh oh ohs,” Solange and her unabashed Janet Jacksonness, even Lorde and… whatever ‘90s artist Lorde sounds like. This past year, ‘90s pop was pervasive, and, it seemed, completely unplanned.

The theme of this year’s list is nostalgia — whether it’s the aforementioned ‘90s pop revival or the return of beloved artists who haven’t been around in more than a decade or new projects from all-time faves, my 2013 looks like a collaboration between a Grantland rock journalist in his 40s and a pre-teenage girl. What is happening to me?

10. The National – “Trouble Will Find Me”

This record almost didn’t make it to the list, having been locked in a three-way battle with Luscious Jackson and Toro Y Moi. In the end, the boys of Brooklyn-via-Cincinnati win out with another record best enjoyed drinking Scotch in an empty, dingy bar. The sixth National album is another exercise in conveying Midwestern isolation and emptiness set to excellently crafted melodies, but with groupies in every city and sold-out shows at the Greek, it’s getting harder to take their word for it. In the song Pink Rabbits Berninger sings that he’s “a television version of a person with a broken heart.” There’s a bit of truth there, but at least they’re conscious of it.

9. Minor Alps – “Get There”

If you’ve seen anything I’ve ever posted in my life you might know that Juliana Hatfield is my favorite musician of all time. What you might not know is that I’ve hated her past few albums; so you might imagine how good it feels to finally have something this decade worth putting on the top 10 list. “Minor Alps” is Hatfield’s collaboration with Matthew Caws of Nada Surf, and while you can definitely feel the presence of both ‘90s heroes, the record is also distinct enough to be its own entity. Unlike her many collaborations with men (Jon Strohm in the Blake Babies, The Lemonheads’ Evan Dando, Frank Smith), Juliana sings every single word of every song (except one) with Caws. The result is a weird minimalist electronic reimagining of the type of folk act you’d see referenced to in A Mighty Wind.

8. Arcade Fire – “Reflektor”

When it was announced that James Murphy (a.k.a. LCD Soundsystem) was going to produce the new Arcade Fire album, you could hear every hipster in America scream in delight before stopping themselves as they realized they should be beyond feeling enthusiasm. Alas, “Reflektor” was neither as mind-blowing nor game-changing as everyone hoped it would be, but it still is an excellent (double) record nonetheless. Many prefer the poppier, more upbeat first disc, dismissing the second as long, indulgent and boring. It is disc two, however, that is ultimately rewarding, with the experimentation between Murphy and the band finally paying off. This all comes to a climax with the album’s best song: Afterlife, THE breakup song of 2013. In it, Win Butler sounds increasingly and increasingly desperate every time he gets to the chorus: “Can we work it out?” we scream and shout, “til we work it out,” until finally there is resignation, and what is left is the question: “When love is gone, where does it go?”

7. Yo La Tengo – “Fade”

This is the first time since 2000’s classic “And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out” that Yo La Tengo’s appearing on my top 10 list, but their absence by no means means that their subsequent releases haven’t been good; it just means that Yo La Tengo has always been so reliable that you sometimes forget they’re around. “Fade” is a quiet, reflective collection of songs written by artists who have achieved so much they no longer have anything to prove, and is a perfect album for those moments when you simply want to exist. The two best songs in the album, funnily enough, are entitled I’ll Be Around and Is That Enough? It sure is, YLT.

6. Charli XCX – “True Romance”

One of the most memorable hits of the past year was Iconapop’s I Don’t Care, and yet when you listen to their album none of the songs are as clever or catchy as that one hit. You might decide, then, to look for an album of that song’s writer, and that’s where you’ll hit gold. Charli XCX is a genius at pop everything; she knows how to arrange the best beats (Nuclear Season), knows the exact number of times to repeat a chorus before overkill (Take My Hand, Stay Away) and even uses “hahahaha” in a chorus in a way that makes complete sense (You[Hahaha]). In an era of music where the geniuses are hailed because of the postmodern way they throw all the songwriting rules out the window (read: Grimes) it’s good to know there’s someone new out there dedicating herself to mastering the old ways.

5. Haim – “Days Are Gone”

Haim’s debut album “Days are Gone” begins with a rumbling; a deep echoing percussion that seems to warn us that something big is about to happen. And it does. Danielle Haim’s voice comes in, and before you know it the masterpiece Falling is in full swing. Like a smarter, more talented Hanson, Haim expertly takes from everything: Michael Jackson’s primal expressions, Miami Sound Machine’s too-good-to-be-true instrumentation, Janis Joplin’s brash guitar work, Stevie Nicks’ sensuality. The result is an album so self-assured and so technically brilliant that there’s no question these three siblings from the San Fernando Valley are destined for bigger and better things. I say bigger than Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Phoenix, eventually. We can only wait and see.

4. Tegan and Sara – “Heartthrob”

Many people tell me that after the occasional flirtation with pop music, Tegan and Sara Quinn have finally gone full sellout with “Heartthrob.” To that, I say “Hallelujah”! Deep, introspective writing has never really been a strength of this duo, and the fact that they’re focusing on their core competency — unapologetically pop love songs that are one endless amalgamation of teenage heartbreak, is cause for celebration. Of course the fact that these are lesbian twins singing juvenile lyrics like “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye like the first time. You never really knew me, never really saw me like they did” just adds to the intertextual fun!

3. Atoms for Peace – “AMOK”

It’s getting increasingly and increasingly harder to tolerate Thom Yorke: that larger-than-life sense of self, that I’m-reclusive-but-really-I’m-not personality, those dance moves. And yet, amidst all this, it’s easy to forget how brilliant he actually is. I’d put “Amok”: up there amongst the better Thom Yorke albums of the 21st century, and while it very much seems like the follow-up to his solo record “The Eraser” (which AfP was originally meant to be a touring band for), the genius of Nigel Godrich and craftsmanship of Flea demand you take notice. The weirdest yet most welcome quality of this album, however, is how it feels celebratory—something the Radiohead albums don’t have.

2. My Bloody Valentine – “m b v”

I’d like to say I was one of those people who waited 22 years for My Bloody Valentine’s follow-up to their classic “Loveless,” but the truth is when that album came out I was playing agawan base in the Montessori playground, eagerly awaiting Hammer’s “2 Legit 2 Quit.” I got into MBV around 1997, and by then it was clear to everyone that the band had broken up. I, along with a whole generation of people who grew up Valentine-less, was happy enough waiting for the occasional Kevin Shields tune in random soundtracks, until finally, without warning the very controversial “m b v” is dropped. Comprised of three vintage-MBV songs, three sweet and poppy songs, and three bloody and effed-up tunes, the very aptly titled “m b v” simultaneously feels like a strange new world and home.

1. CHVRCHES – “The Bones of What You Believe”

The first time I saw CHVRCHES they played in The Echo, a venue as small as Saguijo. The next time I saw them was at the Henry Fonda Theater, playing in a similarly awkward manner to a crowd of maybe 900 people. The last time I saw them they had a crazy light show, expert stage banter, and actual stage presence at the 1,500-plus capacity Wiltern. This kind of growth would be expected of a band as talented as Glasgow’s CHVRCHES, except it all happened within only 10 months. Much like Haim, by the end of the year everyone knew how to pronounce this band’s name, and all the teenyboppers with their Native American headdresses were storming Twitter begging promoters to bring the trio over. “The Bones of What You Believe” is thankfully bigger than all this, with Lauren Mayberry’s relatable yet ambiguous lyrics (their biggest hit has a chorus that starts with “I’m in misery where you can seem as old as your omens”) and solid technical production care of Martin Doherty and Iain Cook.