The Antlers
Hospice

Perhaps one of the saddest albums of the year, certainly also one of the most intriguing and fascinating.

Originally conceived as a solo project by singer-songwriter Peter Silberman, The Antlers are now a trio, but "Hospice" was written and composed by the leader during a period of total isolation, which lasted almost two years, in a Brooklyn apartment. And here comes the obvious digression: is it necessary to spend two years alone, without family and friends, to make a good album? It would seem, from the result, that it's not indispensable, but it helps.

The album, re-released this summer by Frenchkiss Records after being self-distributed in the spring, is a concept album. It narrates the vaguely autobiographical events of a couple's relationship within the terminally ill ward of a New York hospital. She suffers from bone cancer, and he assists her amidst nightmares, sufferings, and shattered hopes. Nurses rushing as alarms sound, doctors denying any possibility, hands clenching, granting a glimmer of happiness. A difficult theme, but approached with delicacy and sobriety.

The music is a chase of drones, aquatic pianos, and angelic voices (yes, in this case, the voice is music). Try to imagine Sigur Rós with Antony on vocals (and those who feel a bit orphaned after the recent not-so-exhilarating performances of the former will finally feel at home again). A compositional approach that often recalls, in structure, Arcade Fire. Few electric guitars, but rivers of sounds intertwining with acoustic guitars and assorted reverbs.

Lastly, I point out what seems to me one of the most beautiful songs heard throughout 2009: "Kettering". A repeated piano chord, while the voice moves over celestial melodies, developing into a crescendo as majestic as it is sublime. Like the rest of the album, the sadness leaves the door open to tomorrow. And this combination, of pain and vision, seems to me ultimately the greatest virtue of The Antlers.