Words by Jasper Hitchen//Illustration by Ryan Flynn
There are some great debates circling about the most essential factor of your favorite music. The thing that demands those repeated listens and intimate headphone sessions. Metal heads will tell you its the slashing skill and huge riffs. Hip-hoppers will reference the tightest beats and strong flow. Indie-rockers love melodramatic lyrics and yelping vocals. Arguing about taste is about as futile as a Kevin Federline CD, so it’s important to remember what we have in common as music fans when gushing about the new disc that makes us rock, dance, reminisce, giggle, jiggle. That thing is our memories.

It’s December, and as I look at the months that are behind me, there are memories of my top records of the year that give them replay value beyond the content of their megabytes. There was walking to work, listening to Figurines’ Skeleton every day for weeks. There was enjoying Swan Lake’s Beast Moans, lying in the sand in a local park one night. Hearing I’m From Barcelona’s Let Me Introduce My Friends blasting out of my speakers, pausing it to go to the bathroom, and hearing the same song coming out of my sister’s bedroom.

So as I was thinking about this review for Annuals’ remarkable Be He Me, I felt my inspiration lacking. Yes, I love the music. Yes, it’s gotten some great reviews. Yes, it has the trifecta of indie-comparisons: the emotional sincerity of the Arcade Fire, the layers of Broken Social Scene, and the folk chants of Animal Collective. But what did this record offer me? I hoped to find something, and with chance by my side, I did.

I’m virtually invincible. I hadn’t been sick all year. No snivels, no aches, no pains. So imagine my surprise as I slumped around my house on a Sunday night searching for the energy to pay attention to anything for more than five minutes.

The next morning, four DayQuil LiquiCaps and two aspirin into my day, I needed a little something to take the sting off. I grabbed a pair of speakers, dragged them into my bathroom and plugged my iPod in so I could explore my feminine side over a nice hot bath. Five-foot, 11-inches isn’t the ideal size to soak in the tub, but you make due with what you have. I queued up Be He Me, and submerged myself in the water. From the opening cricket chips and acoustic licks of “Brother,” this album seems destined to be the soundtrack for the bathtub. As “Dry Clothes” finishes out and Adam Baker and company chant out, “Dryyyyyyyyyyy Clothes,” I want nothing more than to throw on a pair of my own. The bubbling synths on “Carry Around” fit perfectly as I lather myself up with this weird scented soap I have. I’ve finally found what I was looking for.

The most inspiring fact of Annuals’ debut is that it doesn’t feel finished. Their first album is under their belt, but Annuals have more to say. The album crescendos on the closer “Sway,” but outros the same way the song begins, with the clanging of bells, very reminiscent of “High Hopes,” from Pink Floyd’s The Division Bell. After that album, the Floyd gave us an album tour, and a Live Aid reunion. While Annuals doesn’t have millions of album sales, Be He Me suggests they may just have a Dark Side of the Moon up their sleeve.

Annuals
Annuals MySpace Page
Ace Fu Records