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!