Not-Jazz For Jazz Fans: Five Songs From 2009

On the whole, jazz musicians stay somewhat connected to today's pop and rock — even if it's only because playing rock/metal/country/salsa/soul/hip-hop/whatever pays the rent in a big city. And yet, the jazz world still occasionally feels claustrophobic: some line of communication is broken if jazz people freely listen to not-jazz, but not-jazz people don't bother to broach jazz territory. At the same time, some jazz musicians will tell you that they're still worried about the stifling insularity of their musical universe — that their colleagues aren't checking out other sorts of new music.

It's in the spirit of bridging the gap that I devised the idea for this year-end list: Pop songs that reward a jazz frame of mind, whatever you take that to mean. These aren't my top five not-jazz songs of the year, nor do they represent my top five not-jazz albums of 2009 either. (They would all be in contention for both of those lists, though they might also have to contend with Gucci Mane, St. Vincent, The-Dream, The Flaming Lips ...) Nor can I claim to have heard everything else "the kids" are listening to now with any totality — running a blog on top of your job tends to siphon that time out of you.

Still, these five tracks — a mix of album cuts and singles — represent some of the best music of 2009 anywhere. (A Top 10 jazz list is coming from me later this week.) Yes, I know they lean toward a certain bizarro flavor of pop; so sue me. They're all worth listening to because of their heady ambitions, and because they also follow through at the gut level. Tell us what other music from this year would do jazz audiences right, in the comments. And here, have some embedded videos:

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Dirty Projectors, "Stillness Is The Move" from Bitte Orca (Domino)

Since they made the top 10 lists of both New York Times jazz critics (Chinen, Ratliff), it seems appropriate to openly declare: The DPs — both for the imagination of Dave Longstreth, and the execution of his band — have been faves of jazz fans in the know for several years now. The usual criticisms should be acknowledged, as they're true: The band's music would be pretentious if it weren't so sincere, and not all will be affected by every left-field indulgence. But if you like Henry Threadgill, you'll appreciate the sense for lopsided, "how did they possibly make this work?" groove. If you like Guillermo Klein, there are seraphic hocketing vocalists in abundance. If you like Lionel Loueke, check out the art-damaged versions of ornate guitar fingerwork. Hell, if you like the idea of any musician aiming for originality, while supported by obvious musicality and striking talent, the Dirty Projectors' entire latest is worth at least a listen. And now, for a postmodern take on modern R&B:

 

Dan Deacon, "Snookered," from Bromst (Carpark)

Like jazz musicians, Dan Deacon's career is driven by his live act. Unlike jazz musicians, his live act doesn't draw a listening audience: If those I've attended have been any indication, they're usually beer-soaked, tight-jeaned, sensory-overloaded manic dance parties. But Bromst, his second album, makes the case that behind the bliss, he's also a composer of uncommon savvy. Deacon's medium is electro-acoustic dance pop, but he both refines it, adding shape and structure, and unhinges it, opening up an enormous palette of sounds. On "Snookered," a drip of glockenspiels and computerized blips gradually accumulates more layers — fuzzy synths, real drums, group chants, manipulated samples of those group chants — to surface in full ecstatic bloom. Tracks like these prove he knows his toolkit intimately; even better, he knows how to use it to make masses move.

Micachu & The Shapes, "Golden Phone," from Jewellery (Rough Trade)

Two not immediately obvious, but important things about the London-based Mica Levi, aka Micachu: She likes a good pop song, and she's got an ear for detail. Both are even more impressive considering a third fact: that she's 22. On the single "Golden Phone," Levi does big things with little touches: an extra two beats here, a substitute harmony there — and of course, the noise-improv breakdown mid-song, a felicitious gratuity. (Can you hear a jazz cover of this with, say, Andrew D'Angelo going for broke on a nutso unaccompanied cadenza?) And yet, under layers upon layers of sound ornaments — courtesy producer Matthew Herbert, whose many projects include an avant-pop big band with electronics and jazz instrumentation — the tune still carries, jangling and finger-snapping and, ultimately, charming.

DJ Quik & Kurupt, "9x Outta 10," from Blaqkout (Mad Science)

Any aesthetic comparison between jazz and hip-hop is fraught with complicating factors — as one might expect in pointing two undefined terms at each other. But here's a much more pointed convergence: "9x Outta 10," from the West Coast veterans DJ Quik and Kurupt (whoa, remember them?), and "Countdown," from John Coltrane's Giant Steps. On "9x Outta 10," Kurupt is the sheets-of-sound soloist, spinning stream of consciousness permutations with authority, while Quik plays a bomb-dropping Art Taylor, interjecting all manner of weird samples over a skeletal thump. It's an arty tack on rap, full of non-narrative rhythmic, timbral and linguistic experiments, and somewhat unrepresentative of the album from which it hails. But like "Countdown," it's also over in under three minutes, at which point you want to rewind and untangle the whole head-nodding mess again. In rare motion, indeed.

Animal Collective, "Bluish," from Merriweather Post Pavilion (Domino)

I'm aware that the Internet has crowned "My Girls" and "Brother Sport" as its Animal Collective songs of the year, and I'm not immune to their hypnotic charms. Nor would I argue with the carefree "Summertime Clothes" or the asymmetric "Lion In A Coma" as representative tracks. But it's "Bluish," the sweetly awkward (all their lyrics are like this — luckily, they're immaterial) love ballad that fully sold me on the band's latest full-length. Of Merriweather Post Pavilion's 11 tracks, it's the one which sounds the most like a jazz standard. Imagine this, perhaps, done up as a samba B-side for Getz/Gilberto, Milton Banana's brushes entering right before Joao re-emerges with "Put on that dress that I like" around 1:51. It's a gentle, sunny, Sunday morning sort of endeavor, especially remarkable since it's crafted from almost completely inorganic sounds. (Even the vocal harmonies sound filtered through something or another.) And the thing is, we don't care about its technical marvels. It's lush, and it sways, and I can hear a New School sophomore working out a saxophone trio cover in my head already.

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NPR Music Features:
Dirty Projectors: Live In Concert, SXSW 2009
Dan Deacon: Live In Concert, 2009
Micachu: "Calculator," Song Of The Day
DJ Quik & Kurupt: Review, The Earnest Madness Of DJ Quik
Animal Collective: Live In Concert, 2009