As 2013 wound to a close, I was left wondering: Have I seen everything there is to see? Most pop-culture events left me feeling blasé—even Miley Cyrus’ VMA performance. I may have been several Moonman-tinis into the evening, but I didn’t see what the big deal was. A shocking VMA performance? Try Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” in 1984. Former Disney starlets asserting sexier images? There’s the 2003 VMAs with Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears—and Madonna again. Props to Miley, at least, for getting tongues wagging, even if she had to start with her own.

This year, nothing was even worthy of my ire. And trust me, I have plenty of ire to go around.

The only band to raise my hackles this year was an inconsequential opening band that looked like they may have been trying to do that old hipster irony to the extreme. But their gold chains and tight clothes and funny haircuts seemed somewhat earnest. I stayed in the bar room while they performed so I wouldn’t boo and heckle their tired schtick.

At a recent Psychic TV show, I found myself lamenting that nothing even scares people anymore. Granted the performance was at the Brooklyn Night Bazaar shopping event, but as a girl in front of me filmed the performance on her phone—even as she posed for selfies with her friends and leaving me filled with regret at passing up an optimum photobombing opportunity—I really missed the days when people were scared of some of the music I liked. I mean, what is it going to take? Another G.G. Allin?

That said, I had more trouble than usual winnowing down my best-of list for 2013. There were plenty of bright spots cutting through my musical ennui, and I was occasionally (and pleasantly) surprised. It was also a great year for live shows, though most of my list is made up of old favorites.

Favorite Albums

Johnny Marr, The Messenger (Sire/ADA)
Johnny Marr created legendary riffs as The Smiths’ guitarist and subsequently gone on to multiple projects, including stints with The The, The Pretenders, and Modest Mouse, as well as Electronic (with New Order’s Bernard Sumner). So it’s not surprising that his solo record is good. But why hasn’t he being doing more of this? Among the standouts are the lushly beautiful “New Town Velocity,” the ballad “Say Demeane” and the infectious “Lockdown.” It’s tempting to say that a few of the songs sound reminiscent of other British bands, but since Marr has influenced almost all of them, it’s not really a fair comparison. In fact, for much of the album, including tracks like “The Right Thing Right” and “European Me,” he seems to effortlessly channel the Brit-pop sound he helped define.

Parquet Courts. Light Up Gold (What’s Your Rupture?)
This Brooklyn quartet succinctly delivers laid-back punk sensibilities, catchy guitar hooks and clever lyrics, usually in less than three minutes. The band tears through 15 tracks on their full-length debut, when they’re not meandering in the style of Pavement on tracks like “N Dakota,” “New Ideas” and “Pictures of Health.” While the band has Texas roots—referred to in the witty “Donuts Only”—vocalist Andrew Savage does an impressive “Forget about it,” in “Master of My Craft.” The record’s magnum opus, clocking in at over five minutes, is “Stoned and Starving.” It’s the tale of an epic journey in a quest for munchies by a modern-day Odysseus stoner in Ridgewood, Queens, devouring Swedish fish and contemplating his nutritional choices. Despite the lighthearted approach, there’s often a serious, thoughtful undercurrent, like in “Careers in Combat,” as Savage lists off jobs that aren’t available, save for the one referenced in the title. Though there have been a lot of Pavement references, the chord of dissonance mined by the band is very contemporary—and it happens to be a lot of fun to listen to.

Forest Swords, Engravings (Tri Angle)
Forest Swords is as if ancient rituals around the world had a DJ. British producer Matthew Barnes creates finely crafted musical collages with modern electronica, samples, and elements of global traditional music for a truly unique sound. While the song titles have a New Age bent (“Thor’s Stone,” “The Gathering”) this isn’t necessarily soothing music. Just when you’re lulled, a new element is introduced—an Asian influence, distorted chanting, an R&B sample, a beat. It’s mysterious and haunting, often ethereal, but always mesmerizing.

Black City Lights, Another Life (Stars & Letters)
In this digital age, I sometimes miss those old promo sampler CDs. I came across a bunch of record company promos in a used CD bin and fondly recalled listening for the one or two standout tracks (if you were lucky). So I picked up a sampler of New Zealand bands at CMJ and months, later, finally played it and heard the Black City Lights’ goth-tinged electro-pop with the arresting and haunting “Give It Up.” Though trotted out to promote the full-length debut, Another Life, that’s not even the best track. Producer Calum Robb and vocalist Julia Catherine Parr prove to be a powerful duo, creating gorgeous soundscapes of updated Goth with pop and indie sensibilities. Think Zola Jesus meets Beach House on tracks like the ethereal “Children” and “Tried So Hard,” the latter rich with strong vocals and expansive, soaring synths but still starkly beautiful. There are hints of Siouxsie Sioux and Cocteau Twins on “Offering,” yet Black City Lights create something new and captivating.

Ghost Wave, Ages (Flying Nun)
On the other end of the Kiwi spectrum from Black City Lights, there’s Ghost Wave, a five-piece delivering guitar-driven melodies and sunny garage-pop with their debut, Ages. The upbeat, carefree “I Don’t Mind” sounds like California beach rock by way of Auckland. Mixed and engineered by Thomas Bell who’s also worked with The Clean, another Flying Nun alum, the record’s a fairly melodic and laid-back joyride. From the summery rhythms of “Country Rider” to the pop harmonies of “Here She Comes,” Ghost Wave sweeps listeners into its daydream realm.

Charles Bradley, Victim of Love (Daptone/Dunham)
If you’ve ever seen Charles Bradley perform live, you know he lives up to his “screaming eagle of soul” moniker, with colorful costumes, dance moves and charisma that’s palpable. This is all second, of course, to the music and the one-man soul powerhouse that is Bradley. Since his 2011 debut, No Time For Dreaming, Bradley has consistently been compared to Otis Redding, Al Green, and James Brown. With Bradley’s follow-up, he applies his golden voice to a variety of styles, including the ’60s Motown of “Put a Flame on It” and the ’70s groove of “Love Bug Blues.” The record also contains some surprises, like the guitar funk of “Confusion.” But Bradley is perhaps at his soulful best when he’s pleading in “Let Love Stand a Chance” or in the sorrowful-yet-optimistic “I’m Crying My Last Tear.” Despite the inevitable comparisons to voices of a bygone era, Victim of Love proves Bradley is a true original.

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, English Electric (BMI)
Best known for the iconic pop ballad “If You Leave” of Pretty in Pink fame, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, a.k.a. OMD, is still doing what they do best: making great pop music. In 2010, the band picked up where they left off as if no time had passed at all with the release of History of Modern, and with this year’s English Electric, the band once again asserts itself as masters of synth-pop, making the creation of catchy hooks and soaring melodies seem as effortless as breathing. It’s hard not to associate OMD with the ‘80s, yet the entire album is filled with references to the future—or rather, the disillusionment of the retro-future we were promised years ago, from the loopy beats of “The Future Will Be Silent” to the vocal samples featured in “Atomic Ranch,” where a disembodied voice asserts, “I want a house and a car and a robot wife.” But the album also looks to the past, with haunting, soulful samples of Abbey Lincoln’s “Lonely House” (from 1959) incorporated into “Final Song.” So while we may have been cheated of the flying cars and robot mates version of the future, for the present, at least we have OMD, a band that sounds oddly timeless.

Wooden Shjips, Back to Land (Thrill Jockey)
The title track, which leads off the Wooden Shjips fourth album, sets the stage for the rest of the record: groove, repeat. The keyboard and rhythm section lay down the mesmerizing foundation for such a groove, with Ripley Johnson’s vocals barely registering above the music before his guitar makes an appearance for an intricate interlude. As repetitive as this may sound on paper, each song is hypnotically beautiful, comprised of tightly woven melodies and rhythms that build upon the other. Meanwhile, the Shjips add just enough fuzz to keep things earthy and casual, so while the distortion at the beginning of “Everybody Knows” seems to belie the formula, the song quickly asserts a hypnotic pattern with the addition of an acoustic guitar—something new to the Shjips’ repertoire that pops up throughout the record. There’s also a nearly imperceptible croon and rise in urgency to Johnson’s vocals (by comparison, he usually makes Snoop Dogg sound like Busta Rhymes), and this record displays a slightly cleaner sound than its predecessors. With every track completely captivating, though, Back to Land is the Shjips’ best record yet.

Joanna Gruesome, Weird Sister (Slumberland)
People seem to think Joanna Gruesome is either the best name or the worst name for a band. No matter your feelings on the name, the debut from this Cardiff fivesome is worth a listen. It’s often beautiful with razor sharp edges, melding sweet melodies, dark lyrics and frenetic fuzzy distortion. Alanna McArdle’s voice can range from angelic to full fury. Poppy “Sugarcrush” sounds as if someone roughed up Pains of Being Pure at Heart, while the ballad of the album is simply called “Satan.” While some songs are more overtly punk—“Secret Surprise” and “Graveyard”—every single song has a disarmingly beautiful sound amid the chaos.

My Bloody Valentine, MBV (self-released)
Nearly seven years ago, my best friend got married to someone from Dublin, Ireland, and the groom mentioned one of the other guests was related to a member of My Bloody Valentine. After several glasses of French sparkling wine at the reception, my boyfriend asked the question that had been plaguing My Bloody Valentine fans since 1991: “Do you know when the next record is coming out?” He got his answer this year, finally, with the release of MBV. The album is full of meandering soundscapes, from the gentle rhythms of “She Found Now” and jangly, distortion-filled “Only Tomorrow” to the slow build of “Who Sees You” and rhythmic and clean (by comparison to the fuzz)“New You,” with vocals by Belinda Butcher. Over two decades is a long time, but good things sometimes come to those who wait.

Favorite Performances

Johnny Marr, November 16, Webster Hall
Why hasn’t Johnny Marr been singing? I could have easily spent another hour watching Marr, who was full of boundless energy, bouncing up and down during the anthem-like “Generate! Generate!” and, at one point, striking the pose on the cover of The Messenger. While he performed an array of songs from his solo record, including “Lockdown” and “New Town Velocity,” his set also included Smiths songs like “Stop Me If You think You’ve Heard This One Before,” “Panic,” “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” and “Bigmouth Strikes Again,” as well as Electronic’s “Getting Away with It.” Marr was joined onstage by former Smiths bassist Andy Rourke for “How Soon is Now?” and “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want.” (It was somewhat of a family affair too; Marr’s son, Nile, played with opener Meredith Sheldon.) Even the most jaded concertgoers were yearning for more by the end of the encore.

Peter Hook & the Light, September 13, Webster Hall
Was this the year the guitarist—or in this case, the bassist—of a legendary band stepping fully into the spotlight? With his musical progeny in tow? Possibly. I was in the middle of reading Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division by former New Order/Joy Division bassist Peter Hook, so I felt smug in knowing that the opener, Slaves of Venus, was a rejected name for the band that eventually became Joy Division. I managed to catch Hook doing a few Joy Division songs, including “In a Lonely Place,” before the headlining set of his band (including his son, Jack Hook) did Movement and Power, Corruption & Lies. Beginning with the single “Ceremony,” a Joy Division song that was New Order’s first single, Hook’s voice—a bit deeper than New Order’s Bernard Sumner—did songs like “Procession” and “Age of Consent” justice. Hits like “Blue Monday” and “Temptation” were saved for the encore, which ended with “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” The same song ended the summer show put on by his former bandmates in New Order, but while New Order played a flashier set, Hook’s barebones renditions—with his trademark basslines—were my favorite.

Depeche Mode, September 8, Jones Beach
One day this summer, as we walked through the West Village, my boyfriend suddenly grabbed my arm. “I’m on the phone,” I hissed. “What’s wrong with you?” I added, as he frantically pointed to a man with a shock of blonde hair in a plaid jacket heading towards us. It was Martin Gore. My boyfriend and I stood around debating whether we should follow him, but he managed to lose us. We did get to see him at Jones Beach four days later, when he sang the love-song-for-people-who-hate-love-songs, “Somebody,” among others. As always, Depeche Mode put on a memorable show complemented by video. The set included a lot of songs I considered “new” (as in the late ’90s and beyond, including “Welcome to My World” and “John the Revalator”), but I realized it had been 13 years since I’d last seen them. The band did do some classics, including “Enjoy the Silence,” “Personal Jesus” and “Never Let Me Down Again,” as well as a surprise—1981’s early synthpop hit “Just Can’t Get Enough.” Has David Gahan always wiggled his butt so much? It’s possible he is one of those musicians who is aging backwards.

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, July 17, Terminal 5
Terminal 5 would ordinarily never fall into my top shows, because it’s quite possibly the worst place to see a band. Or to not see a band, as the case often is, considering the horrible sightlines. Anyway, this time I could see the band, and pros like OMD can overcome the abysmal atmosphere, with hits like “Electricity” and, of course, “If You Leave,” as well as tracks from their more recent albums, History of Modern and English Electric.

Simple Minds, October 17, Count Basie Theatre
Also on my John Hughes soundtrack tour was Simple Minds of “Don’t You Forget About Me” fame. To avoid the poor sightlines of the flat Roseland Ballroom, we traveled to Red Bank, New Jersey’s Count Basie Theater, packed with a crowd of enthusiastic fans (not to mention a fair number of their tweenagers and teenagers) who seemed to know the entire catalog. The two sets also included crowd-pleasers like “Someone Somewhere in Summertime” and “Up on the Catwalk.” And, of course, the band, led by an energetic Jim Kerr, a true showman, obliged with the hits, including the very last song of the set, “Alive and Kicking.”

Modern English, August 22, Mercury Lounge
It’s possible I’ve seen almost every New Wave/post-punk band there is to see in the past few years, so when the original lineup of Modern English booked a show at the intimate Mercury Lounge, I felt compelled to go. Led by the dapper Robbie Grey, the band held the key to a successful reunion snow, truly looking as if they were enjoying themselves. And somehow guitarist Gary McDowell managed to pull off a look that involved loose-fitting leather pants and sandals. Of course, the highlight was the biggest hit, “I Melt with You,” but the audience was also treated to “Swans on Glass,” “Someone’s Calling” and “Life in the Glad House.”

Jungle Brothers, August 6, Marcus Garvey Park
Every now and then, the audience makes the show even better, and this was the case with the Jungle Brothers show this summer. The celebratory vibe was contagious from the moment the hip-hop pioneers took the stage. Credited with bridging rap and house music, the Jungle Brothers reunited for early hits like “I’ll House You” and “Straight Out the Jungle.”

My Bloody Valentine, November 11, Hammerstein Ballroom
Well, we all know that My Bloody Valentine shows can get a bit loud. I had earplugs in the entire time—something recommended by signs posted throughout the venue—and my ears still rang for about three days afterward. What I did hear that night was the famous wall of sound as the band played a set that included “When You Sleep” and “Honeypower,” as well as tracks from the latest album, such as “New You” and “Who Sees You.” The set ended with “You Made Me Realise,” by far the loudest song that defied my earplugs and nearly shook my fillings out.

Wooden Shjips, November 14, Knitting Factory
After seeing My Bloody Valentine, Wooden Shjips continued psychedelic week. I feel as if I spent a lot of that week rooted to the ground, mesmerized.

Pere Ubu, September 12, Bowery Ballroom
Somehow, I have always missed seeing this seminal band from my hometown of Cleveland, but won’t let that happen again. With no visas for non-U.S. band members Gagarin and guitarist Keith Moliné, the opening set featured Dave Thomas and Gararin playing from his home in England via Skype—as well as a man in a rooster mask. Guitarist Dave Cintron stepped in for the Pere Ubu set, which included “Heaven,” “Vacuum in My Head” and plenty of banter from Thomas, who is a pretty funny guy.

Dinosaur Jr, June 7, Irving Plaza
I keep forgetting that Doc Martens are back in style. A few times this year, when I dug out my old pair of Docs, something magical from the ’90s happened. One of the first times I wore them, my boyfriend returned from work, checked his email and discovered he’d won tickets to a late Dinosaur Jr. show, an afterparty for the evening’s earlier Governors Ball. It was already late and rainy, but who would deny this magic gift from the ’90s bestowed by the Doc Martens? So shortly after 1 am, I found myself wearing the magic Docs and watching Dinosaur Jr. Lou Barlow announced themselves as Kings of Leon (whose Governor’s set was rained out) and Beach House, as the band played a set that included “Feel the Pain,” “Freak Scene,” and “The Lung.”

The Breeders, March 29, The Bell House and May 6, Irving Plaza
Speaking of the ’90s, seeing The Breeders play Last Splash in its entirety as the band launched its 20th anniversary tour was as great as you’d expect it to be. Kim and Kelly Deal, Josephine Wiggs and Jim MacPherson recreated the record right down the bullhorn beginning of “Cannonball,” and the switching up of the band, with bassist Wiggs on drums as it was recorded. The show was so good, that when the opportunity to see it again came around, I went to see The Breeders at Irving Plaza, this time with the energetic, punky trio of Tweens and the infectious, delightful Parquet Courts.

Reading and Watching

Revenge of the Mekons
Filmmaker Joe Anglo examines the evolution of the Mekons from an art project in 1977—comprised of people who couldn’t play their instruments—to a legitimate band and how success continually eluded the influential group. Even if you’re not a fan (and I can’t say I was), the film is fascinating and often funny look at the beloved band.

The Punk Singer
This documentary follows Kathleen Hanna from feminist to riot grrrl icon as the singer of Bikini Kill and Le Tigre. And it provides a poignant look at the crisis that nearly sidelined the formidable Hanna, who in the end, shows she’s still a force to be reckoned with.

Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division
At times, reading this book is like having Peter Hook, bassist for legendary Joy Division, regale you with tales from the early days of Joy Division. Hook has quite a memory, with detailed anecdotes about shows from decades ago, plus detailed lists of shows the band played from their beginnings. It also shows another side to singer Ian Curtis, different from the mysterious, brooding figure portrayed in 24 Hour Party People and Control. Hook also shows the goofy guy in a band, as well as the grief and guilt that haunted Joy Division’s remaining members who went on to form New Order after Curtis’ 1980 suicide.