10. Charles Gayle | Streets
Charles Gayle has always been a unique if understated voice in the world of free jazz - his impeccable saxophone abilities and individual voice have provided some of the most powerful pieces of music of their kind since he started recording in his late forties. On
Streets, at an even more advanced age than when he began, Gayle once again proves he can do it better than the young guys, staying at the cutting edge of jazz music and insisting that it continue to move forward in a time of popular regression. His persona of Streets the Clown adorns the cover and acts as the Fools of old: circumventing the Tim Burton approach to clownship and instead opting for the social critic role. He succeeds beautifully.
6. lo wie and Ryu Hankil | Beckett's Typist
Recalling earlier works by Hankil, particularly the obvious reference point of Becoming Typewriter,
Beckett's Typist epitomizes a lot of the ideals of John Cage that are sometimes misunderstood. Though no great theoretical bound, the work still warrants serious intellectual discussion as a work exploring multiple media at once: in this case, both short works of literature and (non-)music. The concept is this: several microphones are attached to various portions of a typewriter, as well as several signals being attached to different keys so that they produce other unique noises. Then, a short typed piece (provided with physical copies of the album) is created with the prepared typewriter. The unique synthesis of what is a genuinely interesting sound and literature in the form of a living piece that can be heard in quite possibly one of the most paradoxically (given the mechanical nature of the typewriter) organic ways possible is quite satisfying.
4. Keith Rowe | September
This album's absence from the Top 3 is a testament to how good of a year 2012 was. As far as the music concerned, it is in classic Rowe fashion dense but light: never seeking to undermine the ability of a listener to pay attention for extended intervals to his incredibly unique music, Rowe let this live set clock in at about 30 minutes. Played on the anniversary of 9/11, Rowe's latest is both a sonic escapade and the inevitable political statement. It functions on two levels: one is as a sonic critique of the rock era's musical approaches and tendency to fad and transience: there are pop works interspersed within characteristic drones and prepared guitar sections that seem to completely devour them, letting everyone know just how Rowe feels about the future of pop music, that is, an endless nihilistic streak that perpetually fades into an entropic background. The other level is just as controversial: Rowe's specific choice of pop songs is never more on point than when he plays an uncomfortably long section of "Unbelievable." Unbelievable, the official report of the events of the day in 2001. Unbelievable, the intense righteousness and indignation of the world's most powerful nation. Unbelievable, the completely irrational response to the attacks. Unbelievable, how good this piece of music truly is.