Good year for the obsessive

This may seem a little late to be talking about albums of the year. You might even ask, which year? and with reason. (I have already read three times that beloved cliché of January album reviews: ‘early contender for album of the year’.) But everything is so cheap at the moment, and Amazon knows we cannot resist its blandishments for long, having emailed me twice with special offers since I started writing this piece. Happily, it has been another good year for the music obsessive: there is just so much out there that begs your attention. As always, this is a strictly subjective selection, limited by my budget and very particular tastes, which I’m aware aren’t everyone’s. More than once, my fellow columnist James Delingpole and I have mapped out the Venn diagram of our different musical preferences, the intersection of which encompasses a couple of records made in 1977 and an early Grandaddy CD. But we hate many of the same things, which counts for a lot.

My single of the year, the one I looked forward to hearing most on pop radio, was Nerina Pallot’s ‘Real Late Starter’, a glorious little piano-driven thing stuffed with melodic riches. No one bought it, and the album, The Graduate (Echo), wasn’t as good, but it takes talent to write a pure pop tune you have never heard before and want to hear many times again. I also liked Regina Spektor’s album Far (Sire): she’s a Russian Jew brought up in New York, with a piano and great eyebrows and a wonderfully fearless approach, like Tori Amos but with tunes.

Singer-songwriters, of course, have fewer overheads to worry about. I have already written of Randy Newman’s magnificent Harps and Angels (Nonesuch), his best to my ears in 30 years.