Top 20 Albums of 2007, Pt. IV (5-1)


5. Down: Over the Under

If you ask any old-school metalhead (by which I mean a metalhead in his/her late twenties to early thirties) what their all-time favourite band is, a lot of them will likely throw up the horns and yell "Panteraaaaaaa!!!!!!". The funny thing is, the majority of them hate the band's singer, Phil Anselmo. It's because of the interview he gave mere weeks before guitarist "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott was shot and killed on stage with his post-Pantera band, Damageplan. In the interview, Anselmo made hateful comments toward Abbott which some believe caused the mentally unstable Pantera fan to kill the guitarist (before firing, he allegedly screamed, "You broke up Pantera!"). This is the kind of fanaticism that Pantera generated.

Now, years removed from the tragic death of Dimebag, Anselmo returns with Down, the side project turned full time band for Anselmo and Rex (of Pantera) with Pepper Keenan (of Corrosion of Conformity). Over the Under is soaked with sorrow, not only for Anselmo's fallen comrade, but also for the fallen city of New Orleans, a town close to Anselmo's heart. The album plays out like a slow building headache in its tones and lyrics. From the emotions over Abbott (which range from mourning to contempt to isolation, often within the same song) to the skin of the teeth struggle to bounce back from Hurricane Katrina, Over the Under is Anselmo's holy bible of overcoming adversity. The ending is simultaneously exhilarating and unnerving; the closing moments of "Walk Away (Nothing in Return)" consist of the band striking up a soaring crescendo as Anselmo repeats, "And when we walk away / There'll be no coming home". Whether he's intended the passage as a tribute to Abbott or New Orleans, one can't help but be afraid of another meaning; if this is the last album we hear from this band, it will be a travesty. Because it's better as a whole package than any album a member of the band has made in the last ten years.


4. The White Stripes: Icky Thump

For all the non-musical publicity the White Stripes received this year (drummer Meg had to deal with the fake sex tape and her acute anxiety disorder, forcing the cancellation of their world tour and possibly all future touring plans), not a lot was said about Icky Thump. Sure, it was a big hit and all, but no one really talked about it much. Which is a shame, because it's head and shoulders above all of their previous albums (including White Blood Cells, the album that turned me into a rabid fan). When you consider the mixed results in their past experiments (2005's Get Behind Me Satan, with all its pianos and odd percussion pretty much fell flat on its face), Icky Thump is quite a marvelous accomplishment, as it allows Jack to rock the fuck out and play with new sounds successfully. The title track is probably the best song of 2007, with Jack's heavy Zeppelin riffage combined with Meg's bludgeoned, screaming drums. Throw in some whacked out keyboards for flavour, and you've got a departure that feels like home. The same can be said for "Prickly Thorn, but Sweetly Worn", a scottish-themed singalong complete with bagpipes. It's like we expected something this strange (yet awesome) from the White Stripes. This is probably why no one bats an eyelash when the mariachi horns show up on "Conquest", a thoroughly metallic take on the old Corky Robbins song. And, when Jack does a full on rock battle with the horns, you can't help but smile, shake your head, and marvel. We've always known that the White Stripes were really good at making a big noise for just two people. On Icky Thump, the noise has never been so pleasant.

3. The Arcade Fire: Neon Bible

One of the most difficult positions for a young band to be in is to have to follow up success. There are so many different paths to take after a successful first album, and many of them are dead ends. So, what to do if you're the Arcade Fire, and that first album was the critically praised, cathartic listening experience that was Funeral? After all, that was a conceptually morose album centered around the numerous loved ones who died while they were recording it. Would they build on those themes? Would they completely sell out? Would they go in a different direction entirely? It was anyone's guess, but Win Butler fully embraced the challenge of following up Funeral. On Neon Bible, it's as though he carried the team on his shoulders and charged through to the end zone. Thematically, Butler takes a stand on Neon Bible, planting his feet against the sonic avalanche of his bandmates and yelling above the din about religion, politics, celebrity and anything else on his mind. That he does it all with such a manic fervor and delivers such a potent lyrical tirade on the band's second album is downright astonishing. This is not your typical sophomore release, to be sure. Faced with the pressure that comes with putting a city on the map (and, in the Arcade Fire's case, you could argue they've done it for the whole country) and the millions of eyes looking in your direction, the Arcade Fire have stubbornly defied any outside influence; the music is a steady progression from Funeral, while the lyrics are not so much a response to the success of Funeral as it is a state of the world address. If you'll forgive another sporting analogy, it's like baseball. The Arcade Fire were 1 for 1, and could have easily settled for a walk. But, on Neon Bible, they swung for the fences and left everybody (including Barry Bonds) with their jaws dropped. While touring Funeral, the Arcade Fire opened a few shows for U2, and the group clearly took something from that experience. With its abundant melodies, heavy subject matter and solid songwriting, Neon Bible is the Arcade Fire's Joshua Tree.


2. Wintersleep: Welcome to the Night Sky

When I get excited about something, I tend to overdo it. I have written a five star review for Nine Inch Nails' live album. I have tried hard to memorize every line of Pulp Fiction. I once claimed to see the face of Jesus in a cheeseburger. And, when Welcome to the Night Sky was released, I said it could be the best album of the last five years. Again, overdone a little. But, after spending a few months with it, I'm convinced that Wintersleep really have turned out the best album ever recorded by a Maritime band (sorry, gNosh; there's always next season).
Welcome to the Night Sky is a very dark record, to be sure. So, if you're more into bunnies and sunshine than poignant self-examination and questions of humanity, this album probably isn't for you. Not to say that it's all doom and gloom... but it pretty much is. If the album has a theme, it's "I'm going insane and the world's about to end, what's not to be depressed about?". What makes Welcome to the Night Sky so great isn't its subject matter, though. It's the mammoth leap forward in songwriting and musicianship from their last album just two years ago. There wasn't much of anything wrong with the sparse arrangements and emotive vocals of the first two records, but this time they're rocking harder, playing more intricately, and using a wider range of singing. It's ironic; for an album so bleak lyrically, Wintersleep has never been so alive musically. Whether or not it's intentionally designed to distract you from the lyrics (I reiterate, they're quite melancholy) is beside the point. The fact remains that Welcome to the Night Sky has propelled Wintersleep from "that little band from Halifax" to "the best band in Canada" (sorry, Arcade Fire; there's always next season).



And the winner is....


















1. Clutch: From Beale Street to Oblivion

With every passing album, I'm more and more in disbelief that so few people love this band. For fifteen years, they've been underdogs; they've been dropped from a label at least three times, have yet to have a "hit" in the purest sense, and seem destined to a life of smoky clubs. Which is completely fine, because smoky clubs are what From Beale St. to Oblivion was made for. Over the years, Clutch has messed around with different styles, from hardcore to stoner rock to nu-metal to doom metal... you get the picture. Only recently, there's been more blues popping into their records. It was hanging around on the fringe since Pure Rock Fury, but when 2005's Robot Hive/Exodus ended with the one-two blues punch of "Gravel Road" and "Who's Been Talking", it all started to make sense. Clutch have been leading up to From Beale St. to Oblivion for fifteen years. Or so it seems; from one end to the other, the album plays like a career defining moment. From the raucous salvo "Can't Stop the Progress" to the stoner boogie/government damning statement of closer "Shiny Mr. Cadillackness", it's like listening to a lifetime of rock in one sitting. Yet, through it all, the blues is there, fading in and out like a good high. Whenever the proceedings stray too far, a thick southern guitar lick brings it all back. And, when they see fit to let the blues take over, it's pure magic. "Electric Worry" is the song no Clutch fan saw coming in 1992; it's straight-up blues boogie goodness, right down to the harmonica. It's the first time Clutch have fully thrown themselves at the mercy of the genre, and the results are stunning. It's the kind of song that makes you forget everything else the band has ever done and convinces you they've been a blues group all along. At its end, the song seamlessly glides into "One Eye $" (a song originally recorded in 2000 for Jam Room), and brings with it the realization that the song was more than just a one-off jam; it was foreshadowing of their finest moment.

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And that's it. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it (so as to say, initial excitement followed by growing indifference before giving way to sudden realization of time constraints and hurried finish). See you next year!

Top 20 Albums of 2007, Part III (10-6)

10. Wilco: Sky Blue Sky

The boys in Wilco withstood a lot of hate on the Interweb this year. First, they released Sky Blue Sky, a very timid, non-experimental album by Wilco standards. Stunned Yankee Hotel Foxtrot fans dubbed it a boring, drab lite-rock snorefest. Wilco didn't exactly help cool relations when they licensed three of the album's tracks to Volkswagen, a move that pretty much vilified the band to most of the hipsters and bloggers that had endeared themselves to the band. Of course, it needs to be said that Jeff Tweedy's past drug problems fueled much of the sonic experimentation found on the last two Wilco albums, and that he's now clean and sober. That being said, it's a safe bet that Wilco couldn't really keep down the same musical path that was traveled on Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born. Had Sky Blue Sky been in the same vein (no pun intended), the same people berating them for simply making a batch of great songs would likely have berated them for the stagnant noise and sonic freakouts; simply put, if they hadn't taken this turn toward increased melodic songcraft, the whole thing would've been getting stale. Ergo, Wilco can't continue to please the Interweb. Which is fine; the bloggers and hipsters are mostly stubborn fanboys who base Wilco's entire career off of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (with nary a mention of their three previous alt-country releases outside of 1999's Summerteeth). They'll never come to grips with the fact that Wilco will never release another YHF, so they can just go away. At least, this seems to be the philosophy on Sky Blue Sky, with its effortlessly tuneful, easy to swallow, richly textured songs. If people can't appreciate a staggering masterpiece like "Impossible Germany", the tender "Please Be Patient with Me" or the soaring manifesto "What Light", then it's surely their loss.

9. Against Me!: New Wave

If any band can challenge Wilco for the "most hated in '07" title, it's Against Me! Once heavily revered with the punks, this band used to be all about upsetting the system and playing their unique style of folk-punk. However, on New Wave, Against Me! hit their old school fans with the old double whammy; not only did they put away the acoustic guitars in favour of a straight ahead rock approach, but they also had the audacity of signing with a major label. If that doesn't get a punk band hated, I don't know what does. But, here's the thing; moving to a major label was exactly what this band needed to do; the songs on New Wave are simply too good not to release to the masses. Aside from the lead single "White People For Peace" and the previously available "Americans Abroad", there really isn't all that much punk rock to be heard on the album. But, when you record a monster anthem like "Thrash Unreal" or a lover's quarrel set as divinely to music as "Borne on the FM Waves of the Heart" (peculiar title; awesomely powerful song), to throw it away due to its non-punkness is a downright travesty. Listening to this record, it's clear that Tom Gabel's songwriting has outgrown punk. It's as though he's realized he's got so much more to talk about than the establishment, and is willing to do whatever it takes (even if it's signing with a major) to get his message across. In this respect, it's like Gabel is telling the punks that when they styled their mohawks and sewed their Dead Kennedys patches onto their jean jackets, they just might have been missing the point. At the end of the day, by defiantly embracing the mainstream and looking stardom in the eye, New Wave is about as punk (attitude wise) as it gets.



8. John Butler Trio: Grand National

In a world where Jack Johnson is a household name, it's truly puzzling that John Butler hasn't at least obtained a little fame; his last record, 2005's Sunrise Over Sea, was a staggering acoustic triumph while his live show displays Butler's playing prowess so profusely he should be the stuff of legend. Oddly enough, Butler still goes about his business quietly, even through 2007. This year he not only released Grand National, a record flowing with global energy and more chops than a Bruce Lee flick, he also tore shit up at Bonnaroo, one of the biggest festivals in the U.S. Even still, nobody's talking about Butler, or how good Grand National is. Like a quilt painstakingly crafted by a whole town's worth of blue-haired grandmas, Grand National is an album of immense diversity and colourful flourishes, yet is held together by common threads. The message is clear; the world's in trouble, and we're powerless to stop it unless we do something now. If that sounds a little preachy, it is. But, when you fill out the New Orleans tribute/government criticism "Gov Did Nothing" with such amazing guitar work (and a brass section to boot), you don't have to be a fan of politics to enjoy it. Then, intertwined with politics are more personal tracks. The rollicking disco bluegrass (yes, I said that) of "Funky Tonight" and the skank reggae (said that too) of "Groovin' Slowly" let the big picture rest so Butler can enjoy a night of dancing with his girl. And then, you get the stunning ballad "Losing You". Armed with only Butler's guitar and voice, it's a bare bones winner on an album of multi-instrument grand statements. The lyrics are trite; Butler's sheer guitar skills often overshadow his lack of a true way with words. But the song is so damned charming, you really don't care. In a way, that's what makes Grand National so good; Butler doesn't hit you over the head with riddles and prose. Instead, he calls it like he sees it, leaving no lyrical interpretations needed. When he calls out the mopey kid on "Good Excuse", he's not mincing words. He implores the subject to get over his parents' divorce and "see what's shakin' in the real world". Real is the operative word; in a musical landscape chock full of pretentious indie wordplay, metal with no solos and mind-numbingly stupid pop, Grand National is refreshing as a cold beer in July because it makes no pretense; it's a group of real songs using real instruments played really well. There have been better albums released this year, but none as real as Grand National.



7. Queens of the Stone Age: Era Vulgaris

With the music industry in trouble, a lot of bands have opted to play it safe; a safe album of songs your fans expect you to make equals guaranteed sales, a good crowd at your concerts and songs that sound good next to your older material on your forthcoming greatest hits package. Too many artists who have previously been inclined to stray from their comfort zones and try new sounds have gone the safe route in 2007. Foo Fighters did it. Bruce Springsteen did it. And, most notably, Radiohead made a safe album that came as such a shock, most people didn't even realize it before they threw In Rainbows onto the top of their top 10 lists en masse. It's not a problem, per se; there isn't anything ostensibly wrong with any of those albums. They're just so... safe. Which is why Era Vulgaris makes the top 20 while none of the aforementioned albums do. After the coolly received Lullabies to Paralyze, I all but expected Josh Homme to take the Queens back to the desert drenched stoner rock of Songs for the Deaf, the album that made them famous. Instead, Era Vulgaris comes off scattered and disjointed, like a puzzle with missing pieces. On first listen, it's all so tuneless and messy you can't help but have a sinking feeling for Homme. Shrugging off conventional melody and accessible songcraft, Era Vulgaris goes for the abstract, throwing together chords that shouldn't go together and cranking out songs that kind of sputter along without really getting going. Only "3's & 7's" truly hearkens back to the Queens' glory days; the rest of the album is quite difficult to digest before you've heard it about a dozen times. The word "grower" gets thrown around a lot when referencing albums like this. But Era Vulgaris doesn't so much grow on you as you grow into it. When you find yourself grooving to the jagged, abrupt riff of "I'm Designer" and singing along to the unsettling closer "Run Pig Run", you're well on your way to unlocking the beauty in Era Vulgaris' ugliness.



6. Arctic Monkeys: Favourite Worst Nightmare

People tend to needlessly rip on the Arctic Monkeys for the crushing wave of hype they rode in on, and the lofty praise heaped onto them from the UK. When your debut album is dubbed one of the most important records of all time mere months after its release, it's getting a little out of hand; then again, that's the British press for you. Regardless, the gist of it from some folks is that the Arctic Monkeys suck because people love them so much. Fair enough, but before you base your hate for a band on its press clippings, take a listen to Favourite Worst Nightmare. An album released just over a year after their debut (and all the press and pressure that came with it), Favourite Worst Nightmare pops from the speakers with bombast and purpose courtesy of the hard rocking, chugging guitar attack of lead track "Brianstorm". From there, the Monkeys take us through familiar territory (read: songs in the style that made them famous) until they get to "Flourescent Adolescent", a charming, sixties-tinted ditty that would be syrupy and contrived if it wasn't executed so brilliantly. That the band is reaching out into new sonic territory when they could have simply capitalized on their newfound fame is impressive enough. That they're progressing so quickly is a marvel by modern standards. Where they go in 2008 is anyone's guess, but if the creative juices don't dry up (which, by all accounts, they haven't; they're working on a new album right now), it's a safe assumption they won't be going away.

Top 20 Albums of 2007, Part II (15-11)

By now, this should be pretty self explanatory. Here's the next batch; the top ten is online next week.

15. Weakerthans: Reunion Tour

A mere blip on the radar in 2003, Reconstruction Site found the Weakerthans further distancing themselves from their members’ punk rock roots, favouring haunting melodies and heartfelt lyrics to swift riffs and political manifestos. That record was the sound of a band shaking the last of the Propagandhi fans and looking toward a tamer future. In the four years that followed, the world obviously did not get tamer. So, considering his resume, John K. Samson could have easily been consumed in politics and global matters, resulting in a more abrasive, angrier album. However, on Reunion Tour, the opposite effect took place; Samson’s themes turn even more introspective, the melodies a little more subdued. Reunion Tour doesn’t seem to pack the same punch of Reconstruction Site on first listen, but rinse and repeat a few times and what you get is a much more meaningful record. Sadness courses through Reunion Tour’s veins; loss is everywhere on this record, from the brokenhearted bus driver on “Civil Twilight” to the detached feline in “Virtue the Cat Explains Her Departure”. And yet, through it all there is hope. At the end of closer “Utilities”, after a diatribe of helplessness, Samson pines “Make this something somebody can use”. Music could certainly use more records as honest and earnest as Reunion Tour.

14. Nine Inch Nails: Year Zero

2007 has been a very interesting year for Nine Inch Nails fans. From the online wild goose chase that was the Year Zero Alternate Reality Game (an exercise that was essentially a minor back story revealing time waster while rabid fans awaited the album’s release), to the outraged tirades against his own record label (who he caught charging ludicrous prices for Year Zero in Australia), to the implication of a forthcoming movie and/or TV series based on the Year Zero story (not to mention a musical sequel in 2008), to the move to independence from Interscope and the subsequent toe-dipping exercise that was the online giveaway (with pay-for-high-bitrate alternative) of Saul Williams’ latest album (which Trent Reznor produced)… it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Trent had a lot on his plate this year. Which is too bad, because it all kind of overshadowed two important things: a) The fact that Year Zero, with all its glitches, twitches, noise and high concept, was wonderfully executed from both an artistic and promotional standpoint, and b) The fact that all of this creativity happened only two years after With Teeth. It may not be the same NIN we grew up with; Trent surely steps out of his self-loathing comfort zone lyrically to tackle the big picture (complete with futuristic anarchy, civil unrest, oppression, religious fanaticism and a creepy-ass hand coming down from the sky). But I’ll take a clean and sober Trent Reznor over a dead Trent Reznor any day. And, as long as his passion for the art is even a fraction as evident as it is with Year Zero, I’ll stay interested… no matter where his future takes him.

13. Modest Mouse: We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank

A lot of fuss was made over the fact that Johnny Marr was added to Modest Mouse’s roster in the weeks leading up to the release of this album (which shall henceforth be referred to as Ship for abbreviation purposes). But it seemed once Ship was released, people stopped talking about Marr, at least to the level they were previously. Maybe it’s because they were distracted by Modest Mouse’s strongest set of songs to date (fans of the early stuff would no doubt have my head for that statement). Lacking a clear-cut single (although “Dashboard” is as close as you get considering the recent resurgence in dance-punk), Ship gets by on chops, heart, and Isaac Brock’s lyrical and vocal lunacy. One listen to the nauseous opener “March into the Sea” or the seething “Parting of the Sensory” should drive the strangeness of this record home like a jackhammer. But, that’s always been the endearing thing about Modest Mouse; they built up a loyal fan base, stayed true to themselves artistically and then slipped through the mainstream’s back door with “Float On”. Now that they’re here, it’s as if they’re trying to bend the mainstream itself to their will (check the wistfully weird “Missed the Boat” for the evidence). Ship, just like their previous work, is not for everybody. But, anyone who likes their major label rock a bit on the odd side is sure to find plenty to like on this album.

12. Pig Dstroyer: Phantom Limb

Some people could accuse me of drawing random album names out of a hat for this year’s Top 20. And, looking at the list, they might have a case. Just a few minutes ago, I was gushing about Tegan and Sara, and now I’m about to gush about Pig Destroyer. What you believe is up to you, but allow me to state for the record that random names drawn out of a hat was not my selection method for 2007 (2008? Who knows?). For the uninitiated, Pig Destroyer is one of Earth’s most brutally heavy bands, playing a type of metal music the kids call grind (take a listen to this album and the origin of the term is quite apparent). With Phantom Limb, Pig Destroyer delivers what is quite possibly the most violently crafted sonic assault that my ears have ever come into contact with. Guitars roar and sputter like a murder victim’s last cries for help. Drums pound relentlessly and accurately. This band is so heavy, they don’t even need a bass player. But, of course, none of this would mean anything if the songs weren’t good. Phantom Limb, in this respect, is a very rare beast. In a lot of cases, grind goes in one ear and out the other for me; it’s all the same wall of noise and guttural roars. However, when I listened to Phantom Limb, the musicianship and execution made me pay attention. To me, that’s the sign of music done right. So, upon picking up the album, reading along with the lyric sheet (which reveals another, entirely awesome dynamic) and realizing that I loved a grind album for the first time, it dawned on me. Most people allow their taste in music to be shaped only by what they already like. It’s why metal fans don’t like rap, rap fans don’t like country, country fans don’t like metal etc. But, when we let down our guard a little and something new gets into our ears, an open mind can get the same feeling from Pig Destroyer that it got from our favourite bands. Phantom Limb is certainly not for the faint of heart, as much so as Tegan and Sara is not for the emotionless. But, by including both on my Top 20 list, I submit myself as a living testament that the power of music comes in great abundance and from many sources.

11. Dinosaur Jr.: Beyond

After earning hordes of devoted fans through the late eighties and early nineties, Dinosaur Jr. sputtered out in 1997 with the meandering, disposable Hand it Over. Such an underwhelming and inconspicuous album was Hand it Over that a lot of people assumed the band had called it quits after 1994’s Without a Sound. Fast forward ten years, and J. Mascis reunited Dinosaur Jr. for Beyond in much the same way as Hand it Over was released; so as to say, without fanfare. Then again, J. Mascis has always flown under the radar despite enormous talent, which is on full display throughout Beyond. To call Mascis a guitar hero is kind of a wasted pun, considering the interweb video that made the rounds of his plastic guitar battle with David Cross. But how else can you describe the man after listening to “Been There all the Time”? Let’s face it; the boy can play. And, even after burying all those solos in muddy production, his talent is crystal clear on Beyond. In a year headlined by countless reunions by a slew of monumental bands, Dinosaur Jr. trumped them all by not only reforming, but churning out the best album of their career. And they didn’t do it with exclusive corporate deals, massive marketing campaigns or headlining gigs at huge shows. They did it by staying underwhelming, even in awesomeness .

Year in Rock 2007: Top 20 Albums Pt. I (20-16)

Year in Rock 2007 is finished! What the final tracklist holds is something you'll find out when you're holding your copy; in the meantime, I've broken down my favourite records of the year into four bite sized portions that I'll be posting over the coming days. Enjoy... or don't. To paraphrase Radiohead, it's up to you.

20. Smashing Pumpkins: Zeitgeist

Although I’m not nearly as high on this album now as I was when I first heard it, Zeitgeist makes the cut based on the shock factor alone. By which I mean, I was shocked by how hard Billy Corgan rocks on this album. Keep in mind that, when I think of the Pumpkins, I can’t seem to shake the steamy, stinky shit pile that is Adore out of my head, what with all its non-rocking colossal suckage. On Zeitgeist, Corgan cranks this bitch to 11 and shreds pretty much nonstop for the album’s duration, which is a feat unheard of since Gish. And, while the majority of the tracks won’t stand the test of time by any stretch, the pure rock power of “Tarantula”, the driving energy of “That’s the Way (My Love Is)” and the epic sonic attack of “United States” make Zeitgeist infinitely better than Adore. Is the album top 20 material? Probably not. But, I can’t ignore the fact that this is an album I was boycotting until I listened to it. If Billy was able to pull the wool over my eyes in such convincing fashion, who am I to deny him a spot on the list? Well played, Corgan. Well played, sir.

19. Tegan and Sara: The Con

If, at the beginning of the year, you compiled a list of all the artists releasing albums in 2007, then showed it to me, I can virtually guarantee that I would not have chosen Tegan and Sara as a likely Top 20 suspect. After all, I’m not exactly well known for my love of cutesy twin Canadian lesbians who craft aching hearted indie pop. But then, I heard “The Con”, a simple, affectionate, surprisingly feisty track, and I was intrigued. So I picked up The Con on a whim. Over the course of its fourteen tracks, there’s equal parts strange folk, timid punk, bleeding hearts, longing lyrics, and raw talent. Then, there’s the absolutely anthemic “Nineteen”, which sounds like a Bloc Party track. In fact, it’s ten times better than just about anything on this year’s Bloc Party album, which I can assure you didn’t make the list. Ignore the blatant pop leanings of “Back in Your Head”, and The Con is a challenging, engaging, and thoroughly enthralling, record.

18. Spoon: Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

Spoon is (not) famous for flying under the radar. They still aren’t a household name despite over ten years and six albums of simple, effective, and awesome pop/rock. They’ve had their songs featured in commercials, the critics have been in their pocket since 2002’s stunning Kill the Moonlight, and they continue to evolve as a band. That they’re doing it so quietly is a minor miracle, considering how good their last four albums have been. On 2005’s Gimme Fiction, it seemed that Spoon might finally explode into the mainstream, with the minimalist masterpiece “I Turn My Camera On” or the bouncy Who throwback “Sister Jack”. However, it didn’t happen. Of course, that didn’t stop Britt Daniel & co. from changing up their sonic palette and getting a little weirder on Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga. One listen to “The Ghost of You Lingers” and you can tell that Spoon isn’t trying to cash in on what little momentum they have. Throughout the album, there are splashes of colour complimenting the simple melodies, breathing more life into an already lively set of songs. The highlights are opener “Don’t Make Me a Target”, the soulfully rollicking “You Got Yr Cherry Bomb” (sic), and the strange pop bombast of “My Little Japanese Cigarette Case”. But the coup de grace is “The Underdog”, a soaring gem of modern pop songcraft with a horn section that hasn’t been used on a pop record so sublimely since “Ring of Fire”.

17. Joel Plaskett Emergenc y: Ashtray Rock

After gaining steady momentum on his group’s previous records, Joel Plaskett took it down a few notches with the horribly subdued solo effort La De Da in 2005. So when it came time to make another record with the band, Plaskett did what anyone in his situation would do: create a concept record about a love triangle that breaks up a teenage band, set in God-knows-when around a series of underage drinking parties. Musically, Ashtray Rock is all over the place, from the fifties doo-wop cutesiness of “Penny For Your Thoughts” to the reggae new wave vibe of “Fashionable People” to the seventies FM rock of “Drunk Teenagers”. Throw in some modern stylings and a healthy dose of throwback Plaskett (many of the album’s tracks had been written previously, some as long as 10-13 years ago), and Ashtray Rock is a wildly diverse, endlessly catchy record that isn’t so much timeless as it is all time encompassing.

16. Kings of Leon: Because of the Times

When Kings of Leon’s second record (the underappreciated Aha Shake Heartbreak) commercially and critically failed to deliver on the lofty promises of their first (the overwhelming Youth and Young Manhood), they could have been forgiven for back peddling into a contrived attempt at recreating said first album. Whether or not success would have found them in that situation is irrelevant, as they elected to deliver a record straight out of left field in Because of the Times. The word “experimentation” usually translates to “difficult”. In Kings of Leon’s case, it translates to “writing a batch of amazing songs that sound worlds apart from the first two records and not giving two shits what people think or say about it”. If you miss the dirty southern garage noise of “Molly’s Chamber” and “Four Kicks”, that’s cool. I’ll take the spacey groove of “Knocked Up” and the off the rails metallic crunch of “Charmer” as a consolation prize any day. Those two songs alone make Because of the Times worth the price of admission, and we haven’t even gotten to the really wild experiments yet. If the reverb-soaked, anthemic, howling “On Call” or the freak funk workout of “My Party” are so different from Kings of Leon’s previous output (and they are), then different is most definitely good.