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.