Animal Collective member Avey Tare (aka David Portner) is in town tonight promoting his swampy new album, Down There. Besides keeping the animal association rolling—his website is called Alligatorland and the creature is a motif in his music and visuals—Avey Tare explores themes in his solo work that run parallel to Animal Collective. In a recent interview, we talked about his totem, some of those themes, and how he transports himself and his fans via sound. He performs with Eric Copeland and Insect Factory at U Street Music Hall. 8 p.m. $10.

Washington City Paper: Animal Collective seemed to hit the nail with the need for protection and a sturdy shelter with your hit "My Girls." The theme of home comes around again in "Oliver Twist," with your stanza, "to live in a house and have breathing/is a luxury when you understand its meaning." As domestic themes crop up in your lyrics, does it make you identify with the uncertainty of a comfortable living?

Avey Tare: I suppose. I guess from what I've seen in my life so far, all of the elements of life are so uncertain that it's hard to be able to grasp onto something and say, "This is it" or, "This is how it's gonna be for awhile." "Oliver Twist" for me is more about understanding how fortunate I am at this point. A lot of darkness went into some of that realization. But I think anyone in my position, a musician, for example, or someone who gets to live by doing what they love on a day-to- day basis, should thank the universe every day. I believe in a certain balance that has to happen in the world, though, a balance between everyone and maybe even everything. "Oliver Twist" to me is about wondering if I'm "doing my part," so to speak. If I'm giving back as much as I'm receiving. As a musician part of that is understanding that I make people happy with music or performing. But I wonder a lot if there's more to what I have to do than that.

WCP: This brings me to the second part of your stanza, "But even in a box am I dreaming?/A galaxy of stars above our ceiling?" There's a craving for connection to the natural and celestial world that becomes barricaded or concealed by modern living. How does that separation effect your psyche and your music, and how do you cope with it, or try to improve upon it? After all, your band has almost a shamanistic feeling to it, from the name Animal Collective to the nature of your compositions…

AT: That can mean a lot of boxes to me. Like if I was so poor I lived in a box what would I dream about? Or the way people choose to live in somewhere like New York. "In a little box at the top of the stairs," as Neil Young put it. I dwell a lot on nature versus "anti-nature," or the way a lot of humanity chooses to live. I wonder about the things I would get out of living outside with almost nothing. I watched the Human Planet series that the BBC did recently and it blew my mind. The things and the ways people live by all around the world. It just makes me look at my life even more. What am I learning and what am I gaining from doing all this? My house is still quite artificial, though I do more and more to make it feel more connected to the earth. But if I lived in a house that was breathing. If I was as much a part of the earth as a tree or something...would it be more of a luxury then poverty? It's really just me thinking out loud.

WCP: And on the topic of animals, tell me more why you gravitate toward the crocodile—correct me if I'm wrong—on Down There, from your PR photos to your music videos.

AT: Well, aesthetically I like them a lot. Which is how a lot of decisions are made with my music or AC's music. I really like the texture of crocodilians, and they are very old and ancient. This must give them a knowledge that goes way back.

WCP: The crocodiles in your video "Oliver Twist" almost remind me of Indian gavials, or gharials. Ever heard of them, or seen one? They're crocodiles with long, tapering snouts that end with a bulbous nose, and their teeth look like a dangerous zipper that should never be messed with. Out of all of the crocodilians, the gavials are by far my favorite.

AT: I do know them. I may have seen one in a zoo, but never in the wild.

WCP: In regards to "Glass Bottom Boat," I feel like the name is appropriate to the piece. It's as if the listener is going on a stimulating tour through ambient sound, able to witness all that they pass by. Except the sound is gargled and mucky, just like what swamp water would be like. What do you want listeners to envision during this piece?

AT: My friend told me that the record was like putting your head into a pool covered in wet leaves in the autumn. That's exactly what I'm going for in many ways. The whole glass bottom boat ride thing goes back to when I was a kid. I spent a lot of time in Florida on vacation with my family. I think that's probably one reason I like swamps so much. There were always these brochures you'd see for glass bottom boat rides. I've never actually been on one. I went to Peru sometime just before I recorded the record and I went on a boat out on this lake with a small group of Peruvians. I think I recorded some of the boat sounds on that trip. I guess I'd like this to be a glass bottom boat ride filled with ghosts though. Perhaps the boat is almost broken and real rickety. I like the word rickety.

WCP: Boats seem to be another recurring symbol on this album, between "Glass Bottom Boat" and the video of "Oliver Twist," when the figure steers his way through a swamp on a wooden Huckleberry Finn raft. Have you spent much time on boats, or in swamps at all? Do you view this idea of boats as a means of slow-moving transportation for your listeners through your album?

AT: I wrote this short story in college about a skeleton ferryman taking someone on a trip down this haunted canal cavern way. I guess I've had these kind of visions in my mind for a while now. This is a much more humid trip, though. I do think a lot about transportation when I write music. A lot of my music is about moving in cars or just moving, period. I think when I write music or when AC does I always think about it going somewhere. I grew up listening to music in cars a lot and watching or soaking in the environment as it went by. For me, songs or albums start somewhere and then move to somewhere else in such a way that it feels like it's all a part of the same movement. I guess that's why I write a lot of songs where parts don't repeat or are like traditionally verse-chorus verse.

WCP: Your music and visuals remind me of a project by John Cage called "Indeterminancies," where someone would tell a story but there would be ambient sound interferences throughout it. What do you hope to create, besides a distorted effect, with warped and layered music and art?

AT: I guess it's about imbuing the music with some kind of "otherness." It's kind of supernatural to me and I think it's hard for anyone to explain or put a finger on. But it's almost like you just feel it. It's like knowing somethings haunted or knowing there are ghosts around but not being able to see them. I think there is a warped element or a warped ether around that we can't really see sometimes; maybe I just wish it was more visible and so I'm trying to bring it out more in sound.

That's Not My Name: At Pitchfork, WCP contributor Lindsay Zoladz offers an excellent essay about the pervasiveness of the "riot grrrl" label in contemporary discussions about women musicians. Titus Andronicus' Amy Klein articulates the annoyance felt by female musicians who are spoken about in limited, sex-coded terms: "We have fewer cultural references when it comes to women in the arts... But female bands feel frustrated when they're automatically compared to other female bands."

Shut Up Already: Former WCP Sexist columnist—and current Good editor— Amanda Hess wants the journos behind that obnoxious We Are Journalists Tumblr to get over themselves. Says Hess: "This is the major distortion of We Are Journalists: The idea that we are somehow voiceless. How could we possibly be more heard?"

Fresh Blood: Molotov Theatre Group has a (kinda) new artistic director. In a press release, the Grand Guignol company announced that former associate artistic director Kevin Finkelstein is taking over for Lucas Maloney, who is moving to New York, but will "remain with the company in an Emeritus capacity." Molotov will take off this fall and winter, but be back to freak you out next year.

Hit the North: Our Baltimore bureau sends word that Animal Collective's Brian Weitz has been spotted scuba-diving at the National Aquarium.

Today on Arts Desk: The arty side of Occupy D.C.; the crazy shit bands will do for you if you pledge money to their Kickstarter campaigns.

The Weekend in Free: Virgin Mobile FreeFest announced its lineup (err, well, leaked it to several journalists) last night, and my thoughts are here. Excited for Patti Smith, TV on the Radio, and James Murphy; could live without Deadmau5 and The Black Keys. See you there!

Open Up Your Throat: WaPo's Chris Richards goes all Heavy Metal Parking Lot over Saturday's Animal Collective show at Merriweather, chatting up hippies outside the venue. Look for my review later today on Spin, if you please.

Today on Arts Desk: Wugazi speaks! Phil Ade samples U.S. Royalty! The Folk Life Festival recycles! And more

Brother Sport: In advance of Animal Collective's show at Merriweather this Saturday, Brightest Young Things quizzes Geologist (Brian Weitz) on hockey. He does pretty well, except he doesn't know how to pronounce "Dmitri Kvartalnov." Shocking and disappointing. In another interview with the Baltimore Sun, the band says it won't play much material from Merriweather Post Pavilion at Merriweather Post Pavilion. Expect to hear mostly new songs.

Garter Alert: The Post may have hated Beyonce's newest album, 4, but the video for her single "Best Thing I Never Had" compensates with lingerie.

Yesterday on Arts Desk: Henry Rollins produces "bad Kerouac"; Amanda Abrams chats with choreographer Liz Lerman, who recently left her company the Liz Lerman Dance Exchange; and there's more Wugazi.

Ariel Pink

"Well, then," I say. "Are you a team player or more of an individual?"

"Ahh, that's always a trick question!" said Pink. "What you gotta say is, 'I'm highly qualified for this position because…I can be here…all the time…and I got nothing better going on in my life…so you can hold me in this position indefinitely because I have nowhere else to go.'"

For a quick moment, it sounds like Pink is regressing—possibly years backward, before Animal Collective signed his lo-fi solo project to its record label Paw Tracks. Maybe to a period when he was searching for the right record deal, while continuously churning out hundreds of recordings from his home. Back when he struggled as an artist with a vision, trying to make a living.

Years, songs, and albums later, he's a regular subject of indie sites like Pitchfork, and he's becoming a sought-after enigma among the media. People want to know how he went from solo bedroom recordings to international tours with a full band. Animal Collective helped, of course, and even put Pink on the bill for next May's iteration of All Tomorrow's Parties in England, which the band is curating. Not that he's being feted and flown everywhere. He still drives his own tour van from city to city.

Europe was fun, he says, but he can't pick a favorite stop. "The only good thing about a town, really, is the people," he says. "Towns are all the same, boring. You know, we're all going to do the same thing anywhere."

And when it comes to his music, Pink thinks he's just as ordinary as every other musician. "I'm just another brick in the wall, just contributing. I'm not breaking new ground," he says.

Yet his latest record Before Today—his first recorded in an actual studio—sounds utterly unique. Certainly, there are sounds drawn from the past, and not just the psychedelic pop he clearly loves. Take the bass line of "Menopause Man," which isn't so different than the one from "Billie Jean". Observers tend to describe Pink's music as nostalgic and classic-sounding. He wouldn't necessarily disagree. "Everyone wants to be sincere, an individual. But how would you describe an idea, if you didn't have words already?"

Pink seems to think originality is unattainable because we "share language. We're all mind-fucking each other, and it's incestuous, really. Now I'm just leaving my little footprint, and I'm no better than anyone. I'm just here, to say hello".

Ariel Pink performs tomorrow with Os Mutantes at the 9:30 Club. 10 p.m. $20.

Whatever your take, Down There by collective member Avey Tare won't change your mind. It sounds, basically, like band minus two-thirds (or three-fourths), without filling the space left by the other members' absence. Avey's vocals are as eccentric and excited as ever, and they float over dubbed-out bass sounds and fogs of echo. The record is distant and spacey, but also spare, which results in a sound that—while likely intentional—often feels half-baked.

Of course, if you happen to be especially interested in what Avey Tare contributes to the collective, Down There is a solid study of his quirky textures and slow, off-kilter grooves. He swims in sampled aquatic noises and rides familiar-sounding accordions, but he never really takes off. It's a strange and unexpectedly mellow trip that often finds Avey hovering like a disembodied specter of himself, lost behind vocal manipulations. Frequently, he shirks off any prominent sense of melody.

In spite of its more difficult elements, the record can surprisingly subtle. It's not intensely exotic or jarring, it doesn't aggressively push the envelope, and the songs don't reach for the poppy heights that other recent A.C.-related projects have hit. Down There is a patient exploration of bass-heavy songwriting interspersed with odd gurgling noises and bubbling synth sounds. Don't expect a breakout hit: Avey Tare's latest offers a dark, quiet, and mostly unmemorable addition to A.C.'s ever-growing oeuvre.

Morning, folks!

The mysterious purveyor of the Felice Brothers golden-ticket essay contest named a winner Friday. I’ll share the winning essay here later today, but here’s a taste of the author’s pathos at work:

I don't know how I missed out. But don't make me sit at home alone on Friday night, listening to Adventures of the Felice Brothers Vol. 1, masturbating in the dark, and waiting for the tears to come.

As it turned out there were no real winners at the sold-out show at the Rock & Roll Hotel that night. The gig started out promising before someone in the front row teased the musicians that their beloved Yankees were about to be eliminated from the playoffs. The rest of the concert had a spiteful air; the band, visibly pissed, played a lot of uncharismatic new material and never got in sync with the audience. Kudos to the Felice Brothers for being unafraid of veering from their gothic folk-rock wheel house, but this was clearly not their night.

Comedian Louis C.K., by contrast, managed to give a packed Warner Theater an hour and sixteen minutes of new material without losing anyone for a second.

Anyway:

The discordant guitaring of D.C.’s ‘90s hardcore punk scene is apparently not the District’s only six-string legacy; turns out the DMV is also something of a classical-guitar mecca, reports WaPo. Writer Anne Midgette traces the lineage back to Greek immigrant Sophocles Papas, who built the scene back in the ‘20s. Tally another point for the Greeks in the canon of D.C. music—you’ll recall it was another Greek, John “Johnny Boy” Katsouros, who launched erstwhile Washington R&B legend Terry Huff back in the early ‘60s.

Arena Stage opened in its new home. It tweeted all the relevant coverage.

Finally, New York magazine has an article about the death of early 21-century hipsterism—a condensed version of an investigation by the literary journal n+1. The music piece figures most prominently in what the author calls the “Hipster Primitive moment,” when we all grew beards, donned flannel, and pretended the Industrial Revolution never happened. From the article:

Music led the artistry of this phase... Here are the names of some significant bands, post-2004: Grizzly Bear, Neon Indian, Deerhunter, Fleet Foxes, Department of Eagles, Wolf Parade, Band of Horses, and, most centrally, Animal Collective. (On the electronic-primitive side, LCD Soundsystem.) Listeners heard animal sounds and lovely Beach Boys–style harmonies; lyrics and videos pointed to rural redoubts, on wild beaches and in forests; life transpired in some more loving, spacious, and manageable future, possibly of a Day-Glo or hallucinatory brightness.

The n+1 book version, by the way, has contributions by City Paper columnist Moe Tkacik, who, speaking at a Symposium, blamed neo-hipsterism on the era’s big movers: the Internet—for breaking down the barriers to subculture—and China, for enabling the sort of credit flow that would let American Apparel open 200 stores in two years. (She does not venture to explain where the Hipster-primitive animal fetish came from.)

Me? I blame the Internet for how little I am being paid to write this.

Bye!

Both descriptors reflect the early responses to ODDSAC, a self-described “visual album” both parties collaborated on for over four years. Its terrifying trailer below:

City Paper chatted with D.C. expat (now residing in Philly) Perez last week in anticipation of two ODDSAC screenings at the AFI Silver Wednesday (tomorrow) night. (Unspecified members of Animal Collective will be in attendance.) Perez spoke about the prescient nature of screensavers, dogged David Lynch comparisons, and the embarrassment of his parents reading his press clippings.

I read that you view a film like The Monkees' Head as distant relative of ODDSAC, not so much in style but its spirit.
Yeah, it’s the spirit of it all. It’s in the tradition of these `60s and `70s surrealist romps. Heavily surreal and somewhat fantastical and, though they have some narrative elements, for the most part they are still very tongue-in-cheek. I like those movies because with something like Head and Frank Zappa’s 200 Motels, you get the sense that you’re watching something where people are having fun even when it’s sloppy. I almost appreciate arbitrary surrealism over technical craft because it’s more indicative of a human spirit or a human being. [Laughs.] When you compare that to something that has a budget of hundreds of millions of dollars, those seem soulless in comparison.

I think that once you get past the standard three-act structure, it allows the filmmaker to have a lot more fun and experiment. People often use the phrase "experimental film" as a means of dismissing it—to mean, like, "oh, it’s just weird." Well, it is an experiment because it pushes boundaries. By design, some experiments are not successful, but again, because of that spirit and that human element, I can always appreciate it more even if it doesn’t succeed.

On the film’s Facebook page, there's a picture of cat describing the film in LOLspeak as “too Lynch.” Is that a response that keeps coming up at screenings?
I’m certainly a fan of David Lynch and when I was growing up in D.C., I remember going to see those movies and being really psyched. I honestly see very little similarity between my work now and David Lynch’s. I think, like you said, it’s people's most obvious reference point, and that’s fine. I would also argue that ODDSAC could provide young people, who aren’t necessarily as well-versed in experimental cinema, a new standard because it is a weird 21^st-century hodgepodge. I could easily off the top of my head name a handful of other experimental filmmakers that you’d be able to see the influence from but yeah, that gets old. [Laughs.]

It’s interesting that an audience willing to indulge in the experimental sides of Animal Collective’s music would balk at a film that’s equally as adventurous.
That’s a good point. Maybe it’s because music is so personalized that you can listen to the same Animal Collective song or Lil Wayne song over and over again and get a different reaction every time. Or it could just be that people listen to something because "this song gets me psyched" or "this song gets me happy." Whereas a visual medium, whether it be advertising or the Twilight movies, what it can do for you is finite. People are not used to having to work so hard when watching or visually digesting these materials. It’s funny though, because I have a big gripe with constantly being bombarded by commercials and advertisements—but in 30 years, stuff from ODDSAC and other similar kinds of work will be on billboards and screen savers. There is a long history of the avant-garde, in all mediums, eventually being co-opted and becoming standard. Whatever’s on your screensaver, chances are that was an experimental optical print from San Francisco in the `60s...but now it’s totally normal. People will catch up and dig it, hopefully.

Journalists can't seem to write about psychedelic bands without excessive reference to drugs. Almost all reviews of ODDSAC thus far also make mention of some kind of hallucinogen.
To be fair, I’m not unaware of the drug movie genre and I’ve certainly enjoyed movies like that in the past. At the same time, it is a little irksome because it is an easy way to place something into a bubble that doesn’t allow for much other discussion. For example, take Animal Collective’s music. It’s always "drug music blah blah blah." When it comes down to though, what we’re talking about is escape, whether it's crack or someone who drinks coffee every morning. That’s what artistic media are—it’s all just a form of escape. And yeah, I agree.  Every time I see these quotes and say "oh my God, my parents have to read this!" [Laughs.] I’m a grown man and I’m still mortified of my parents reading this stuff.

Are you planning any extras for the DVD?
There will be a handful of special features, including a brief making-of feature.  We’re trying to think about manipulating some of the abstract sequences, so if you like a certain part of the movie, you can just have it running perpetually on your TV. If you’re having a party, and just want something cool running, I’m into that. We’re also working on a book with all original artwork, including sketches and drawings that were used to make everything in the movie.

What projects are you currently working on? I saw that you’re developing a horror movie?
I’ve got a lot of stuff cooking. I’m working on a film that’s a little more conventional and straightforward that would be considered a spiritual horror film influenced by my time in D.C. I’m also doing a lot of visuals for [Animal Collective contributor] Panda Bear’s new album and his upcoming tour. After the Guggenheim event, we got an offer for a similar event from other places, so I might try to engage some more in that stuff. I’m pretty fortunate that these guys keep me busy.

Were you satisfied with Transverse Temporal Gyrus at the Guggenheim?
I was happy with it. It was a really intense experience in terms of how much time we had to put it together and how much it changed, but it was a worthwhile experiment.

Do you have a favorite theater in D.C?.
It probably doesn’t exist anymore, but The Key on Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown. I used to go there all of the time. It was one of the few places showing reportorial arthouse movies. I have to give a shout-out to the theater where I worked projection all through high school and even a little bit of college—The Shirlington 7 in Arlington. That’s my favorite theater.

Tickets for ODDSAC can be purchased at oddsac.com, not the AFI box office. The screenings are at 8 & 10 pm.

It was not for nothing that Bluebrain ended up in our Best of D.C. issue: Inspired by the New York avant-garde composter composer Phil Kline, the participatory boombox performance the duo staged in Dupont Circle last year—a 40-minute work for several dozen cassettes—was arresting and perfectly chaotic; the debut album Bluebrain dropped in February, meanwhile, is lush, immediate, and often strangely sorrowful art pop.

The group, composed of brothers Ryan and Hays Holladay, has a second boombox experiment planned for Saturday, this one patched together from 3- to 5-minute segments created by a host of well-known local names: Brian Weitz, better known as Geologist of Animal Collective; Chad Clark of Beauty Pill; singer/songwriter Maureen Andary; Sockets Records head and Fatback DJ Sean Peoples; electrofuturist Outputmessage; Omega Recording Studio engineer Alfonso Bravo; DJ Will Eastman; and Bluebrain itself. All the music was created for the occasion, and will only heard once, under the cherry trees, which could make it the most bizarre, most unique happening occurring during D.C.'s most reliable—and to some, most dreadful—tourist magnet.

After the jump, the musicians share some notes on the music they've created for the Cherry Blossom Boombox Walk. The event takes place Saturday, beginning at 5:30 p.m. by the carousel on the National Mall (in front of the Smithsonian Arts and Industry Building). Bring your own (cassette-playing) boombox.

BRIAN WEITZ (Animal Collective):
A few years ago I got Buddha box when I was on tour in Japan. I'm not a buddhist, but I like playing the loops when I have to pack or unpack or get ready to move houses—all things I hate doing and find really stressful. Last year my friend brought me back a Buddha box he found in China with 135 loops on it. Considering this is happening during the peak bloom of the cherry blossoms, I thought it'd be fun to make a piece sourced from the Chinese box. The idea of making multiple stems that can work together without being guaranteed to be played in exact sync is pretty similar to the last project I worked on in Animal Collective, so my brain was already in that headspace.

–

MAUREEN ANDARY:
Being challenged to leave your comfort zone musically is a good thing. And my boombox piece is certainly a departure from the jazz, cabaret, and folk songs that I've made a career out of writing. I was asked, perhaps in more specific terms than the other musical contributors, to create a piece that centered around my voice. It doesn't contain any decipherable lyrics and, more than anything, creates an ambience that might sound less like a human voice and more like something synthesized when played through many tiny speakers.

–

BERNARD FARLEY (Outputmessage):
When Ryan explained that, when working on the composition, we should take into account the fact that the tapes in the boomboxes will slowly go out of phase, I decided to run with the idea and aimed for a Steve Reich-inspired phased-loop piece.

–

SEAN PEOPLES:
I’m a minimalist at heart, so when Bluebrain asked me to compose music that was subtle and complimentary, it appealed to me right away. But the larger appeal to this project is the one-time experience of creating a microgeography of sound with a slew of D.C.’s most talented sound designers. There’s no telling how a sound or collection of sounds will translate from one space—speakers and headphones—to another, a series of boomboxes in a natural environment. So, aural experiments like these are crucial to discovering sounds that are different from what we get fed each day. Beyond that, the challenge, and most certainly the fun, is composing something complimentary to and distinguishable from the whole. For the past few years I have recorded/tinkered/discarded/rediscovered numerous sound experiments, including a good number of field recordings. This was a good excuse to rummage through these ideas of the past to find inspiration, then using Ableton Live to warp samples, layer notes, and get a sense of sounds in relation to some of these past experiments.

–

WILL EASTMAN:
Composing this piece was a welcome challenge. As a dance-music producer, I focus on rhythms and bass; however, due to how it will be played—on multiple boomboxes, perhaps out of synch—instead of a melodic bass line, for example, I used a spiraling, pulsing tone. It was a pleasure to break out of my thing for a bit and work on something ambient. I thought about what the mall will look like April 3 and whether pieces are synced or train-wrecking, the stems are designed to bounce around with the collaborators' elements, rise and disperse kinda like falling cherry blossoms, or throngs of tourists.

–

ALFONSO BRAVO:
It’s been a fantastic challenge working under such strange parameters. The nature of the performance removes the comfort of dependable sync between the elements of the piece, and that’s not something you typically come across when composing music. It’s taking away a lot of our control, but that’s what makes it so interesting and, dare I say, fun. I’ve found myself taking a lot of inspiration from Shinto ritual music and taiko drumming, both because of the sparse and fluid arrangements and (predictably) because the vibe fits the Cherry Blossom Festival. I can’t wait to find out how it all sounds on the day of, but I’m especially excited to hear how my fellow contributors approached this.

–

CHAD CLARK (Beauty Pill):
On saying yes to Bluebrain: The two things I most admire about the Holladay brothers: (a) They're not cribbing from anybody; and (b) they're not waiting for permission. This is what ties them to a long line of D.C. musical mavericks and it's why people are getting excited about Bluebrain. The Holladay kids are fully, fully, fully making it up right now. Right in front of you. Yes, there's an element of strategy and design, but their form—we all sense this—is subject to change at any moment. And, as stylish and strikingly modern as they are, form is not the focus. The focus is on maintaining a component of FSU. There's always a small measure of mischief in any Bluebrain gesture.

And love. Love is there, too.

Love for art, love for the community, love for D.C., love for sound, love for each other, love for the moment.

So, yeah, love and FSU are the two constants. Warmth and a bit of danger. A good blend.

And that is why I pretty much will say yes to anything they ask of me.

On Beauty Pill's Contribution to the Cherry Blossom Suite: When I began composing this music, I had only one objective—to earnestly make something lovely. I mean, come on, it's springtime in Washington 2010. An historic health-care bill just passed. Rush Limbaugh is red-faced with rage, howling into a microphone somewhere. And I know the Empire will strike back at some point but, right now, all things considered, I'm in a good mood. Springtime and cherry blossoms and boomboxes and, yes, hope. So I see no cause to deny the moment of its intrinsic loveliness. I'm going Claude Monet. Whatever that means. Sparkly, metallic, glistening, shimmery sounds.

Hello! Pazz & Jop! The annual critics' poll organized by the Village Voice went online yesterday, and nothing about the main lists should surprise you: Animal Collective and Phoenix topped the albums list; Jay-Z (and Animal Collective and Phoenix) topped the single list. A number of City Paper staffers and contributers submitted Pazz & Jop ballots. Let's see what our people liked!

• Brent Burton lists a lot of avant-garde and arty metal. Also, no singles.
• Jason Cherkis puts Animal Collective on top, wisely squeezes Ganglians in.
• Marc Hirsh really loves his power-pop: He put Tinted Windows—featuring James Iha, one of the Hanson brothers, Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne, and Bun E. Carlos of Cheap Trick—at No. 2.
• Steve Kiviat has a 10-way tie with some crossover African acts, some hip-hop, some reggaeton, and Japandroids.
• Andrew Noz puts a Gucci mixtape on top, reps for D.C. with Diamond District.
• Michael J. West already wrote about his favorite records of 2009 for Arts Desk; here's his Pazz & Jop ballot anyway.
• Ben Westhoff has a good mix of genres—but he'll have to explain to me what he sees in Dead Man's Bones, the project for which Ryan Gosling had a bunch of kids sing pirate songs.

A bunch of other D.C.-based critics contributed lists, including Mark Jenkins, Chris Richards, Marc Masters, David Malitz, Joe Colly, and probably others. Look 'em up!

And that, Arts Desk reader, should do it for 2009-in-review coverage. We're done! We swear!

In other news:

- Love nightclub remains closed—and will stay that way until it improves or owner Marc Barnes sells it.

- Despite being a Yalie himself, my colleague Ted Scheinman couldn't bring himself to write about this: Yale the Musical.

- Coachella Festival in Indio, Calif., announced its lineup. Quickly: Wale is performing. So is Thom Yorke, but he's listed as "Thom Yorke ????"—this, evidently, is a reference to his nameless backing band featuring Flea, Nigel Godrich, Joey Waronker, and Mauro Refosco. Some people found that weird.

- Stream the entire new Beach House record.

- I was going to read this essay on Joan Didion and recommend it, but I haven't read it yet.