With school in full swing now and class workloads bearing down on students still reminiscing about winter break and getting baked, we as the collective student body must buckle down and accept the harsh reality that time is gone. It's gone for the next four months, replaced with reading assignments and exams and nonalcoholic-induced vomiting. For some, this may be too much of a burden to bare, the developing insanity leading them to drop out of school or hold anti-abortion signs near the turn around. This type of behavior isn't necessary, as certain aids may help to shake off the school time depression and just leave the regular depression. I'm talking about drugs. I'm also talking about music. Certain music has the ability to create an immediate calm, to create an environment that allows learning. That is what I have compiled here, a list of some of my favorite albums for studying. Of course, this is only my opinion, and feel free to substitute any of these albums with whatever music you feel enhances your learning experience. So get out of bed, put away that adderall (for later), and jam out to some of these tunes.
Land of Talk: Cloak and Cipher
A much more developed album than Some Are Lakes, Cloak And Cipher maintains the characteristics of the band that I feel for, Elizabeth Powell's delicate vocals and fantastic guitar work, and her penchant for establishing emotional imagery. Enhancing their sound with additional instrumentation and a beefier sound, the band achieves an album that succeeds in maintaining the characteristics of its fantastic debut while exploring new yet familiar territory.
The National: Alligator
Before Matt Beringer and his band of menswear aficionados hopped the bus to sad bastard melodrama, they released Alligator, a work of comparable calm (with the occasional scream) that didn't constantly want to drown itself in the deep end of loathing and self-induced misery. An album that isn't a soundtrack to a lonely midnight walk through the streets of New York, Alligator is upbeat, culminating in the raucous "Mr. November," with Matt declaring the fact that he will not fuck us over. Which he hasn't so far.
Julian Lage: Gladwell
A newly introduced member in the pantheon of my favorite albums, Julian's sophmore album Gladwell takes from where Sounding Point left off, strengthening the sound and the story by having the album revolve around the description of a fictional town. Not a strict disciple of jazz convention, Julian interprets his works through an Americana lens with a world music edge. "Margeret" begs the listener to drive the scenic route, while "Iowa Taken" will have listeners pining for autumn and falling leaves.
Minus the Bear: Menos el Oso
Before Omni was released and the dent in my wall was in existence, Menos El Oso was the bio-weapon in Minus the Bear's arsenal. The album, their undisputed best, displayed all of the bands strengths. Dave Knudson's maniacal tapping and DL4 madness, Erin Tate's mechanistic pounding. Sometimes venturing into disturbing territory, "El Torrente" deals with the murder of a child, the album is a display of a more mature, seasoned band reaching for greater heights. Then came Omni, and now my hand hurts.
Reverie Sound Revue: Self-Titled
After years on hiatus, Reverie Sound Revue returned older and wiser, rebranding their synth heavy summer day jams as mellow walk in the park accompaniment and ghostly whispers for night drives. The result, 2009's Reverie Sound Revue, is a piece that revels in the emotional detachment of a miss Lisa Lobsinger, goddess and lead vocalist of the group. Both robotic and hypnotic in her delivery, Lobsinger has the ability to avoid any sort of obvious emotional plea while still retaining the ability to tug at the heartstrings whenever she pleases. Enveloping her pleas in a haze, the two guitarists follow her vocal on a ride, gleefully interlocking melodies as if on a chase. "Arrows" shimmers while "You Don't Exist If I Don't See You" charges forward in exuberant bliss.
Sharon Van Etten: Because I Was In Love
Having recently released Tramp, Sharon Van Etten has finally been receiving the attention she deserves. But before she went on tour and sold out shows at the Mecury Lounge, she was a lone troubadour penning earnest pleas of desperation. With Because I Was In Love, the listener is introduced to a more stark presentation of Sharon, vocals and strumming plain and simple. Not yet the battle cry that is Tramp, Because I Was In Love is a display of powerful songwriting. Simple without being too overt, it's a display of fragility. A display that I will never cease to tire of.
Kings of Convenience: Declaration of Dependence
Keeping with the almost tropical musical themes that have made them so beloved throughout their last two albums, the Norwegian Kings of Convenience find that third time's the charm with Declaration of Dependence. The album is a strong one, with the duos guitar work recreating island breezes and Erlend Øye's sometimes cryptic storytelling that speaks of love and relationships. Sadly, there are no Feist appearances on the album, but the quality of work is well able to stand on its own strengths.
Real Estate: Days
Under constant rotation on my iPod, the latest offering by Real Estate has quickly become my summer drive staple. Working just as well under a more studious environment, Days is a time machine, capable of bringing back better, more beautiful times (winter break). "Green Aisles" displays this quality perfectly, uttering the line "Our careless life style it was not so unwise." Littered with surfy jams of summer days and crowded shores, the album is the perfect relaxation to the stress of school time.
Pedro the Lion: Control
Not subjected to the flack that most groups that maintain the "Christian" moniker usually receive, Pedro the Lion avoided the usually suspects of CCM (ghosts, hot relationships with Jesus), instead opting for the more lyrically relatable subjects of love, loss, and emotion. David Bazan (now an atheist) relays these topics on the very dark Control, a concept album which deals with a man's infidelity and ultimate demise. Songs like "Rapture" detail the man's hidden affair in somewhat graphic detail, contrasting it with his revealed guilt. Ultimately, the album ends on a somber note, without any resolve or happy ending, which was what Bazan intended as a depiction of a normative human existence. Seldom happy and without jubilation, a life where things just happen. In this the album succeeds, a gripping retelling of life in a world of indifference, without placing blame on ghosts or goblins.
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