The Single Life: Marilyn Manson, St Vincent & More

High on many of those Top Ten/Twenty/Fifty/Hundred lists that seem all the rage this time of year, St Vincent’s self-titled collection’s place was well-deserved, as she managed to keep the music eclectic while ditching some of the excess eccentricities. This doesn’t mean there isn’t a suitable amount of quirk in the clip for Birth In Reverse (Loma Vista/Caroline) as she teeters, totters, and strangles some splendid squealing noise from her guitar. Rumour she’s apparently now collaborating with Carrie Brownstein (Sleater-Kinney and Portlandia being handy things to write on one’s resume) will have those friends of yours who purport to known about such things nodding knowingly.

With folkie harmonies, pop sense, and serious gazes off into the middle distance, The Decemberists make perfect Portlandia music. Actually being from Portland, this is convenient. Continuing an odd little dripfeed of songs from their upcoming new years’ album, What A Terrible World, What A Beautiful World is The Wrong Year (Capitol) although it could turn 2015 may be among one of their right ones.

Adding a voice – perhaps unexpectedly, one of their own – also put Seekae on various of those appraisals of albums of the year just gone as well. On The Stars Below (Future Classic), Alex Cameron’s voice is treated to the point where it’s almost just part of the electronic beds it sits among, but yet keeps an odd humanity. Good trick that.

Dan Deacon’s approach to making mostly synthesised music ranging from leading the 14-piece ensemble to recreated his Bromst album, to his current incarnation where most all the burps and farts – and apparently even the warbled vocals - of Feel The Lightning (Domino) are of just his own hand and throat. The visuals suggest you are also advised to be cautious about the comfy chair. And indeed, most of your loungeroom furniture.

Tis also the season for ghosts of Christmas past. Remember when Marilyn Manson was evil personified and going to be corrupter of a generation? No? Well, it was a bit silly when the world eventually worked out he was a pretty amateur pantomime villain with a nice line in hats and novelty contact lenses – and very little else. But, some disaffected kids who still can’t work out why nobody takes them seriously still try and make him their champion, and Deep Six (Cooking Vinyl) will likely do nothing to change their mind, while most of the rest of us will simply and rightly go ‘Oh, is he still around?’

If you’re looking for music that can be both troubling and somehow beautiful, try Panda Bear’s Boy’s Latin (Domino). What almost sounds like some sort of Tibetan throat singing gives way to off-kilter harmonies which perhaps flirt with pop but never quite make eye contact. The sometimes unsettling animated visuals help keep you unbalanced yet intrigued.

Somewhere around the alt.country or acoustica pigeonholes would be the easy option to place Mark Moldre. But his Down To The Earth album took some tangents from those bases. Madeline (Laughing Outlaw) celebrates one of those default impossibly cool blondes from old Hitchcock movies – in this case, Kim Novak in Vertigo – with a hushed, almost near jazzy, approach that really deserves a wider audience.

But in Perth, they can still make pop of a classic form. Emperors pretty obviously have quality stuff by The Stems and such on their shelves – probably on vinyl, as is only right and proper. Automatic Sigh (Gun Fever/MGM) is shiny, summery, and catchy as tinea in a cheap caravan park shower block. Also contains toy robots, and how can that be a bad thing?

It’s now a couple of years since Purity Ring impressed many with Shrines, another of those records where the machines managed to have some emotional warmth. Push Pull (Remote Control) is the first preview of their second record – please note, ‘sophomore’ is down as a banned word for 2015, along with the ever-appalling ‘angular’. The sound here may be a bit clearer, a bit bigger, but the Canadian duo retain an intimacy to their tunes, which seems to beckon you closer.

And many are hanging for the next noise from Modest Mouse. Some have it already – on prized limited edition vinyl 7” they’ll probably never remove from its cover for fear of devaluing it – with Lampshades On Fire (Glacial) a typically idiosyncratic beast that lopes, gallops, yells at you a bit but almost seems to be apologising for doing so. But that’s likely some of the charm. Here, watch it go round and round.