Indie World: Tomorrow’s mainstream?

Every year it happens. I, sucker, seek out and swallow whole any and all year-end lists.

Of anything, everything. The best and the worst. I can’t get enough of others’ opinions and I love lists. It also helps tamp down the feeling that I’m missing something really vital and awesome. (For the most awesomest list ever, here’s the daddy of ’em all: www.fimoculous.com/ year-review-2008.cfmi – it’s a freakin’ list of lists!)

So, I see the lists (I’m talking only about CDs here, now) and notice common denominators. First-time artists on independent labels are the norm. I figure a consensus has been reached among the cognoscenti and pull the trigger. And I swear to avoid the trap in the future when I realize that the cognoscenti often talk to each other, to impress and to maintain their cool-cred. They weave clothes for the emperor but only in fabrics they can see.

But, of course, there are the gems among the dreck. I forget the disappointments, many in number, and revel in the few joys. Here are three of the latter.

FLEET FOXES are from Seattle and sing like they’re from the Blue Ridge Mountains by way of the Middle-Earth’s Shire.

Led by the wonderfully-named Robin Pecknold, the quintet lay down a plush carpet of reverb-slathered heavenly harmonizing. Pecknold’s folk/rock songs are, by turns, simple and complex. They are unabashedly melodic and not too precious or twee (but they flirt with that line a few times – see “Meadowlarks”).

Their eponymous full-length debut is full of highlights. The two openers – “Sun Rises” and “White Winter Hymnal” – are like waking up in the woods on a cold morning when you realize someone’s already on the coffee and fire-starting case.

“Ragged Wood” takes a journey through several tempo and melody changes, hooked together with tight band interplay.

“Quiet Houses” and “He Doesn’t Know Why” are as close as they get to rocking out, and actually contain some finger-snapping passages.

“Blue Ridge Mountains” and “Oliver James” close out the album with two strong statements. The first invokes Graham Nash’s feistier moments, and the second’s an ode to somebody who got “washed in the rain” who is “no longer” – not a bad way to go.

The Fleet Foxes are rustic without shame or seeming artifice. They may appeal to you, too, but their appeal is decidedly not universal.

And now for something completely different. There’s not a damn thing pastoral about SANTOGOLD’s self-titled debut, unless you count “Starstruck” – but no, that’s actually about celebrity obsession.

This is technically a group project, but the lead singer and co-writer of the songs, Santi White, will have trouble reminding people of that. She’s got an upfront voice and attitude that demands and holds attention. She’s got plenty of help, with production chops from a full roster of studio wizards with names like Freq Nasty, Disco D, Switch, Spank Rock’s Naeem, Xxxchange, Steel Pulse guitarist Clifford Moonie Pusey and none other than M.I.A. (“Paper Planes”) herself.

The results are stunning. Ms. White and her crew are very fond of big beats with bleeps and blorbs, girly-chanting and such, but they write mighty fine songs. Chief among them are “L.E.S. Artistes” (’80s new wave), “Say Aha” (shimmy-shaking pop), “Creator” (mind-goosing mash-up), “Light’s Out” (strong woman gets wistful) and “I’m a Lady” (belaboring the obvious). Ska, punk and electronica in a blender, sometimes run through a centrifuge – the album kicks.

Fun, serious, grooving and cerebral, Santogold is 24-carat.

The most conventional-seeming of this trio is DR. DOG, and their third (fourth?) record, FATE. Touches of weirdness there are, mind you, but these guys have their pop-love and respect for the integrity of the song at the forefront.

Philadelphia is their home, but they could just as easily have come from Georgia or Liverpool. They are a conventional line-up, with guitars, keyboards (often a plunky piano), and the occasional string and horn embellishment.

The album is replete with winners, “Hang On,” “Army of Ancients,” “The Ark,” “Uncovering the Old” and “The Beach” being my current favorites. Clunkers, there are none.

By the third spin Fate became my new favorite album. Its soul, passion and craft are palpable. Even the less-than-stellar sonics add to the charm. Maybe the quintessential indie band, Dr. Dog updates the old forms and lets its young members’ freshness lie lightly.

There were many other keepers from last year’s indie crop, including My Morning Jacket’s “Evil Urges,” The Raveonettes’ “Lust, Lust, Lust,” She & Him’s “Volume I,” Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ “Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!,” Bon Ivers’ “For Emma, Forever Ago,” etc.

The non-keepers were even more in number, but I’ve already forgotten them.