Step 1: Head to the Answer on a Monday night to interview Kelli Strawbridge and see Mekong Xpress and the Get Fresh Horns.
Step 2: Finish the interview and sit at the bar next to trumpet player Bob Miller.
Step 3: Chat with Miller about being part of the horn section that Matthew E. White and the Mountain Goats shared when they toured in support of their respective 2012 albums.
Step 4: Head to Steady Sounds the next day over lunch to snag an original pressing (!) of D’Angelo’s Voodoo.
Step 5: Take a quick look through the bins and find a used copy the aforementioned 2012 Mountain Goats album, Transcendental Youth, and pull out the liner notes to see if Bob Miller played on the album.
Step 6: See that he did and feel that “Everything is connected and beautiful” feeling.
Step 7: Play the album later that night and soak in White’s smart and reverential arrangements.
Step 8: Listen as a hair gets stuck on the needle, causing the lyrics “I could do this all day” from “Counterfeit Florida Plates” to loop perfectly about a dozen times.
Step 9: Feel that “Everything is connected and beautiful” feeling again.
Step 10: Buy tickets to the Mountain Goats’ September 19 show at the National.
The Mountain Goats — “Counterfeit Florida Plates” [Spotify/iTunes]
Fun fact: When you wait until December 31 to finish your top 10 albums of the year post, your top 10 albums of the year post becomes, by default, your New Year’s Eve post! Before getting to the list, I just want to thank everyone who takes the time to read this blog, whether it’s once a week, once a month, or just this once. It’s such a gift thinking/knowing/believing that there are people out there who share your enthusiasms, and to everyone who left comments, retweeted links, reblogged posts, did guest posts, invited me to do guests posts, or interacted with YHT in any other way, thank you for being such awesome Internet buds.
Now for the 10 albums that meant the most to me in 2014:
For the longest time, I had no idea that “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” was a Queen song. This totally blew my mind when I first found out. The song’s rockabilly simplicity and Elvis-tinged vocals scream 1959, not 1979 — the latter being the year Freddie Mercury reportedly penned the tune while lounging in a hotel bath tub. If I had to trace the emotional pathway that led away from this revelation, it would probably look a little something like this: