By the time I first saw Band of Horses this year in March, I only barely recognized their name and had little to no clue if going to that show, a last-minute decision, would even be worth it. Three live shows, a digital album and vinyl purchase later, Everything All the Time (Sub Pop) was pretty much a shoo-in as my favorite album this year.

I’m not sure I’d put it on the same pedestal as my pick from last year (The National’s Alligator), but Band of Horses bring something so needed amid the disaffected and mopey masses of indie rock: a genuine affability. Their music is as approachable as the guys are likable. A live show only supports the point. Frontman Ben Bridwell’s dude-man personality is charming and a welcome change from performers who take themselves too seriously.

Then there’s the small matter of the album, which seems an honest reflection of the group’s engaging attitude. Put simply, these are songs that are easy to like. They are not pretentious nor do they try too hard. In June, I wrote for Mars Needs Guitars that The Great Salt Lake had “a bit of grandeur in the sound.” Really, the same could be said about the entire album. Comparisons to My Morning Jacket and the Shins make sense but shouldn’t be taken too literally. Band of Horses strikes a balance between the Shins’ fragile guitar tip-toeing and MMJ’s cumbersome jamming.

When I’m sure The Funeral or The Great Salt Lake are the album’s high points, Monsters makes me rethink it all. These are big, sprawling songs, but they never threaten to burden the album with an overwrought sense of self-importance.

It’s very possible, and I’m no musician, that Everything All the Time is not a marvel of technical musicianship. But sincerity is the great equalizer. How does an album make you feel? Warm and welcome or distant and indifferent? I can’t imagine feeling more invited and comfortable than I do when I listen to this album.

• Band of Horses | The Funeral
• Band of Horses | The Great Salt Lake

Ten more albums I also really enjoyed (in no particular order):

• Oh No, Exodus Into Unheard Rhythms (Stones Throw)
• Cadence Weapon, Breaking Kayfabe (Upper Class Recordings)
• Murs, Murray’s Revenge (Record Collection)
• The Walkmen, A Hundred Miles Off (Record Collection)
• Calexico, Garden Ruin (Quarter Stick)
• Figurines, Skeleton (The Control Group)
• Elvis Perkins, Ash Wednesday (self-released; XL to release in ’07)
• The Long Winters, Putting the Days to Bed (Barsuk)
• Baby Dayliner, Critics Pass Away (Brassland)
• The Gray Kid, … 5, 6, 7, 8 (Ventura Skyline)

By about August, I had begun formulating year-end lists in my head. I was mentally shuffling songs and albums up and down and back and forth when it finally hit me earlier this month: Who cares? The overwhelming volume of year-end lists (Largehearted Boy is keeping track: A-M and N-Z) has watered down the process, although I still kept tabs on lists from bloggers and writers I especially admire (Chromewaves, Gorilla vs. Bear, Marathonpacks, Bows + Arrows, for starters).

There is nothing wrong with lists (I made two last year). At best they are tangible reminders of a year that was; at worst they are masturbatory exercises of self-importance. They do open up the author to all sorts of criticism (“What? No, TV on the Radio?!?”), although that’s half the fun, I suppose.

For me, the difference between, say, my 13th and sixth favorite albums is probably negligible and hard to quantify. So instead, I’ve whittled it down to one song and one album that moved me or commanded a majority of my attention.

Favorite song of 2006:
Elvis Perkins, While You Were Sleeping
(From Ash Wednesday, self-released in 2006 and due out on XL in February 2007.)

In the newspaper business (of which I’m a part), you’re taught that the lead to a story is vital – it will determine if someone continues to read a story. It’s a good analogy for records, though, in the case of While You Were Sleeping, track No. 1 on Ash Wednesday, I kept doubling back to listen on repeat.

No doubt, the rest of the album is golden. But While You Were Sleeping is something else: insightful, pretty, sad, plaintive. From the first note, when an acoustic guitar gently dives into what NPR calls “midnight ruminations of an insomniac,” the song slowly builds layer upon layer of instrumentation – acoustic guitar gives way to bass gives way to drum beat gives way to horns.

But Perkins’ writing – the imagery – carries the song. He’s singing to someone long asleep, a winding narrative of what is passing this person by in the stillness of slumber: “While you were sleeping, the time changed / all of your things were rearranged.” It’s a simple yet sort of eerie idea: that the world, time, people don’t stop just because you do.

Favorite line:
“While you were sleeping the money died /
machines were harmless /
and the Earth sighed.”

Elvis Perkins | While You Were Sleeping

I also really liked these:
Band of Horses, The Great Salt Lake.
Josh Ritter, Girl in the War.
The Walkmen, All Hands and the Cook.
The Long Winters, Hindsight.
The Roots (feat. Peedi Peedi and Bunny Sigler), Long Time.

Related:
Favorite songs of 2005.
Favorite albums of 2005.