These are our top three underexposed albums of 2014 (sort of an oxymoron, but w/e). In other words, these are the three albums that our DJs felt that deserved far more attention, promotion, and hype than they got. Furthermore, they deserved more attention than lesser albums that got a lot more hype (check back in a few hours for some of those…).

3. Lykke Li – I Never Learn

Courtesy of Atlantic Records.

The third studio album from Swedish singer-songwriter Lykke Li, I Never Learn is the last installment of a trilogy of albums that follow the artist’s growth. Her debut album Youth Novels played out earnestly yet somewhat upbeat and the follow-up album, Wounded Rhymes, was melancholy and forceful, out to claim space that had slipped away. It makes sense to see a connected narrative between all three albums, with I Never Learn finishing the trilogy as a dour, solemn work of a world-weary woman.

Li’s voice really shines throughout the album and though the instrumentals are heavy and somber, her vocals are animated and keep the album buoyant when it could easily slip into an abyss of self-pity. Standout tracks include “No Rest For The Wicked,” “Silver Line” and “Heart Of Steel,” where solid, dynamic production meets lyrical intimacy and smooth vocals. This is not an album to play on sunny days or pre-game situations, but a good one for small moments of contemplation and reflection. 

-Teta Alim

2. Warehouse – Tesseract

Courtesy of Stereogum.

When it was released on the 4th of July, Tesseract seemed to come out of nowhere. Suddenly it was one of my favorite albums of the year, and one of the most interesting indie rock albums I’d ever heard. Its breathless beauty was the kind I was sure would shake the gates of the hard-hearted keepers of indie rock hype, a blend of great influences and greater originality, but sadly I never heard much mention of it online (save for excited facebook messages with a couple friends).

The Atlanta-based Warehouse are a five-piece: drums, bass, two guitars, and we’ll get to the singer later. The dual-axed lineup is extremely necessary to conjure the sound that Warehouse have achieved on Tesseract: a breathlessly-paced form of post-punk completely dominated by spidery, interlocking guitar lines. Imagine American Football hopped up on amphetamines, or Sonic Youth stripping their compositions of any distortion and adding jazz chords. The two guitars race each other up and down scales, playfully jabbing at each other in a musical joust, enhancing each other in a beautiful dialectic. When they both play chords, the bass line nimbly darts between them, as on standout “Mental Faculty.”

These textural elements provide singer Elaine Edenfield with an environment in which she can go absolutely wild. When Tesseract opens with the gentle intro of “Figure in Bronze,” she introduces herself with cooing vocalizations in a pretty falsetto that lulls you unawares. But the second the song kicks into gear she unleashes her truer, animalistic tone. She growls, she snarls, she barks, viciously expectorating her lyrics. Now and then there are still hints of beauty, such as in the chorus of “Derivative,” but they rarely last long before that strain reappears.

What is she so strained about? Her lyrics are largely oblique, full of cartwheeling vocabulary, but conveying a sense of intense emotion. On album centerpiece “Heterochromia,” over a twilit Deerhunter-esque arpeggio, she gasps “I could notice someone like you, something like that… a heterochromia” (look that one up, folks). In addition to biological conditions, she crams in references to philosophical ideas, Biblical history, theoretical physics, and mythology. Edenfield demonstrates the same duality between intellectuality and insanity that made the mid-period work of Talking Heads so compelling. 

This album is the perfect length for its sound, the perfect style for its day, a perfect debut for an exciting new band that takes guitar rock to new and exciting frontiers, and an introduction to a sure-to-be idolized indie rock singer. Strangely, though, it barely picked up any hype when self-released by the band and very few peers of mine ended up hearing it, making it a very strongly underexposed album for its level of quality. HOWEVER, it seemed that somebody who matters has noticed; the highly-hyped new Bayonet Records (run by Dustin Payseur of Beach Fossils and a former Captured Tracks exec) are re-releasing it on cassette as their flagship outing, so you all will get a second chance to enjoy the glory! Fittingly, the album has been removed from their bandcamp, but pay close attention to the hype that is sure to finally come. Also check the photo link above for “Omission,” the first single, a good introduction to their frenetically dazzling sound. 

-Jesse Paller

1. Isaiah Rashad – Cilvia Demo

Courtesy of XXL.

When Isaiah Rashad dropped his debut EP way back in January, the hip hop world, at first, eagerly listened up. Born and raised in Tennessee, Rashad was an unusual new edition to the illustrious TDE crew, whose eminent affiliates (Kendrick Lamar, Schoolboy Q, Ab-Soul, etc.) all hailed from the Los Angeles area. Rather than abandoning his Southern roots to gain the passionate TDE fan base‰’s quick approval, Rashad took some risk by staying true to the sounds that raised him (think Scarface, Master P, and Outkast). 

But despite the initial buzz, the release faded from most mainstream conversations; probably due in part to TDE hypebeasts turning all their attention to Schoolboy Q‰’s highly anticipated Oxymoron, which was released about a month later. But in addition, my theory is that the lack of major, lasting recognition for Cilvia Demo has something to do with it being released as an EP (though it is album-length), which I think people take less seriously than an album. Not to mention, having “demo‰” in the title makes the release sound even less official. Despite being called an EP, Cilvia Demo feels like a sophisticated album (albeit slightly under-polished). This calculated collection of tracks give us a window into Rashad‰’s deepest inner thoughts; naturally moving through his highs, his lows, and everything in between. Indeed, Cilvia Demo demonstrates Rashad‰’s remarkable ability to express his own complex interiority in a way that is genuine and ‰ÛÒ ultimately ‰ÛÒ totally heartbreaking.

Opening track “Heredity‰” is something of an alcohol-induced slow drive through a hot summer night, in which you can envision Rashad‰’s drunken smile as he shouts out the Missouri-born Maya Angelo and her caged bird ‰ÛÒ a reference that magically reemerges throughout the entire album; as if a kind of apparition trying to navigate Rashad‰’s messy internal conflictions. Yet already in the second track, Rashad snaps out of his stupor to go the fuck in on “Webbie Flow (U Like).‰” In contrast to the feeling we get from the first song, Rashad declares he‰’s “never last place, never had brakes,” making it clear that he has every intention of gearing up his game despite his apparent demons which become more apparent as the album moves on. “R.I.P. Kevin Miller‰” reveals a particularly irritated Rashad who, when one gives leverage to the reoccurring loop of the words “wake up‰Û, seems to be critiquing both his peers‰’ obsessions with “bitches and blunts‰” as well as recognizing the fallacy in his own crew‰’s focus on “weed and money‰Û. 

This kind of self-reflexivity is key to Rashad‰’s genius, but also results in brutal confessions that can be uncomfortable for the listener. For example, at the end of the last verse in “Tranquility,‰” Rashad admits to his ignoble treatment of women. In the very same breath of this confession, however, he turns to lamenting with a regretful “good lord, my flaws.” While this addition could come off as a way for the rapper to gain the listeners‰’ forgiveness or understanding, there is no real indication of this in his tone or lyrics. Instead, his disparaging lament fades out while the chorus comes back in to dominate, as if it were a thought he couldn‰’t quite finish. In this way, listeners are somewhat taken out of the equation, left merely to observe Rashad as he confusedly confronts and questions his behavior and desires without resolve.

Indeed, the listeners‰’ approval (whether regarding the merits of weed or the reprehensibility of misogyny) of what Rashad has to say is so clearly not the point of this album. Rashad is incredibly aware of his flaws ‰ÛÒ painfully so ‰ÛÒ and we see this recognition coming back again and again to plummet him into waves of darker content. In “West Savannah‰” and “Heavenly Father‰Û, the rapper cuts deeper into his own psyche, revealing suicidal thoughts and hateful emotions for his father. These tracks demonstrate poignant confrontations with these thoughts, but still we see that his internal battle has not yet been beat. In “Menthol‰Û, for example, it seems that he is yet again finding remedy in sex and drugs without much remorse. While Rashad enjoys the night, a female voice sings about “stressing for a blessing‰” as she sees her problems being unable to be solved by drugs or money ‰ÛÒ intimating what Rashad appears to be refusing to explicitly confront in his current state of mind. 

But just when we think that Rashad isn‰’t going to be able emerge from his regressions, he suddenly has a powerful breakthrough near the end of the album on a track called “Banana.‰” From the beginning, it is clear that “Banana‰” is Rashad‰’s fight song, building up to a powerful verse in which he ‰ÛÒ while still acknowledging his demons ‰ÛÒ makes it clear that he is going to win his internal battle by channeling his problems into incredible lyrics. He declares: “I‰’m scribing my living with curses / just wait till I get this shit perfect,” showing a moment of true clarity and resolve. The last two songs show a triumphant Rashad who already believes he is making moves in the hip hop world, with the main hook of final track “I Shot You Down‰” being “I came, I saw, I conquered.‰Û 

While we certainly see Rashad masterfully conquer his own self-doubt and limitations in Cilvia Demo, the rapper unfortunately did not seem to conquer WVAU’s attention this year and was underhyped by the music press. Still, I truly believe that Rashad is one of the best hip-hop lyricists since Kendrick Lamar, and that his shit is already pretty near perfect on this release ‰ÛÒ making it one of the most underexposed albums of the year.

-Emma Bartley