Year-End Bullshit: Top 10 Albums That I Discovered This Year

It's the day after Christmas, and I STILL haven't really gotten into the meat of my year-end lists? It's been a tough couple weeks for me, finishing finals at school, jumping back into work when I got home, getting sick and currently being bed-ridden. Fuck. And I guess the realization that nobody really cares about this blog except me and the three or four friends of mine I bug to read it is always lingering. We get enough year-end bullshit during this month, and what difference does my opinion bring to the table?

But may that's missing the overarching point of why I enjoy writing this blog, and why I enjoy writing about movies/music/pop culture in general. It's mine. I may be shouting into the abyss, but you never know how many people out there may, for some reason, overhear a single shard of my voice. And even if they don't, at least I've thoughtfully composed some musings about the pieces of art that move me, or provoke some sort of reaction within me, whether it's unabashed love or bitter hate or mild indifference. I can look at what I've written in the past and be okay that I've put something out there, just for the hell of it, for no reason other than the fact that I love writing and I love music/movies and I love combining them in a format that's this off-the-cuff.

So paradoxically, this list is completely meaningless, but it means a lot to me. I'm still discovering albums from the past that millions of people already cherish, and I still haven't even really grazed the the discographies of, say, Pavement and The Smiths and New Order and the Talking Heads, which even more people worship. Maybe I'll come to love these bands one day, during one year, and maybe I won't. But in 2007 I stumbled upon a lot of rich material, and most of it shaped the way I view music. Even if this list is compiled completely for personal reasons and you don't feel like reading it, fuck it, this is a blog. To anyone who continues reading and has been touched by these albums in a similar way: enjoy.

10. Spiritualized - "Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating in Space" (1997)

I've listened to this album a lot, and there have been times where I have really gotten into its warped flow, and other times where I've found it long, pretentious, and even a little arrogant. But whenever I listen to it, I can't help but admit how unbelievably brave it is. Jason Pierce and his posse have a lock on the scope they have for this project, and it is larger-than-life, to put it modestly. It's a space album that tries to break the barrier between emptiness of what's beyond the clouds and the promise of what God should be. It's got harmonica solos, call-and-response choruses, and "Come Together", an almost criminally thrilling track. I really had no idea what to expect when I first heard this, and by this point I still don't have the best grip on the material. All I know is that, when people refer to this as a masterpiece, I can raise my glass high and say, "Yeah, you might be right".

9. Booka Shade - "Movements" (2006)

It's difficult for me to name all of the albums from last year I discovered during 2007 that did not make my year-end list at the time. Discs by Asobi Seksu, Marit Larsen, and Annuals have all earned special places in my heart by now, but that "Movements" speaks to me so much more, using only a handful of words. You can keep "From Here We Go Sublime" and "Orchestra of Bubbles" and any other recent techno albums that have cut through the mainstream; "Movements" is better. Using carefully manufactured beats that exist in the dankest of corners in night clubs, these songs come alive, tell a story, explain the subtleties of the rest of the body to the ears. Perfect for walking alone on a cold night. Can't wait to see what Booka Shade throws at us next.

8. Bjork - "Post" (1995), "Homogenic" (1997)

2007 may not have been the most prosperous year for Bjork; "Volta" was admittedly disappointing, especially with the promise of Timbaland and Antony collabos. But maybe it was just a bummer for me because I was still digesting these two '90s classics from the Icelandic chanteuse. Bjork might not ever own the kind of reverie I shower upon Joanna Newsom; I got on the bandwagon pretty late, and while I can recognize how great these records are, they probably won't burrow within me as deeply as other artists on this list. Still, I'm pretty sure that: the one-two opening of "Army of Me" and "Hyper-Ballad" on "Post" is hard to match; someone should write a musical with "Joga" as the centerpiece; and "All Is Full Of Love" makes me smile, a lot.

7. Belle & Sebastian - "If You're Feeling Sinister" (1996)

Should have gotten around to this one sooner. I don't know, after listening to "Dear Catastrophe Waitress" and "The Life Pursuit" for a while, I was always a little curious/hesitant to see what made "Sinister" the group's indisputable classic. Half of me expected a complete shift from what they were making now, but surprise, everything was just a little more scaled-down and the songwriting was a lot tighter. More and more with each listen, "Sinister" seems like a very capable band simply composing ten extraordinary songs, not really mind-blowing stuff but just a lot more solid than anything around them. Do I think "If You're Feeling Sinister" is a classic? Probably not. But it is a great album full of hypnotic hooks that is very, very easy to like. I guess it was just hard for me to immerse myself in when I was digging its biological parent, for all intents and purposes, which is number 5 on this list.

6. D'Angelo - "Voodoo" (2000)

Yeah, I know, I already gushed about D when talking about "Untitled (How Does It Feel)" a few weeks ago, but I refuse to believe that this album is not still important today. I would never call myself an expert on modern R&B ( I wish I could, I really do), but this is the most crystallized version of the genre I have come across, making poppy John Legend bullshit seem immature by comparison. Every song on here -- every song -- sounds crucial and poetic and deeply personal, filled with clapping drums, slick bass, and falsetto. It is the classic that Stevie Wonder hasn't been able to produce in this musical era. Sex, grit, and sweat: man, do I treasure this album.

5. Nick Drake - "Bryter Layter" (1970)

This was one of those rare cases of me avoiding my crippling music snobbery and actually heeding a recommendation from a friend who has, oh, a fine music taste, I suppose. She was all about Nick Drake, and I had never heard of the bloke, so I proceeded to listen to "Bryter Layter" without any knowledge of his early death in the '70s and newfound cult status. I guess the fact that I had no contextual information helped me create unadulterated opinions of his music, but it's more telling that I believed this was a recently released album when I first heard it, and that Drake was still living as a little-known indie folk singer. I guess it was a bummer to hear that Drake had been dead for decades (I found this out after listening to "Bryter" for about a month), but it also revealed the music to be already as timeless as I thought it should be. There are themes of frustration and angst here, but the gentleness of Drake's voice and jazzy atmosphere keep each song accessible and shimmering with soft-spoken beauty. Astounding work. Next up for me: "Pink Moon".

4. Tom Waits - "Rain Dogs" (1985)

The first time I heard Tom Waits' voice, as it rasped out the opening line to "Singapore", I thought it was a joke. Seriously. I'm a big advocate of weird, silly voices, and will defend the pipes of Antony, Jens Lekman, and the chick from Deerhoof with equal conviction. But there was no beauty in Waits' hangdog growl, which I've compared to the singing voice of the mayor from "The Nightmare Before Christmas" on more than one occasion. It took me a listen of "Rain Dogs" in its entirety to get past the eccentric vocals and see the honesty with which each song was composed. This album throttles the environment it's trying to capture: dingy city life, filled with back alleys and busted street lamps and motel rooms no one should stay in. And there's Waits in the middle of it all, the mad hatter exorcising his demons with a half-empty bottle of bourbon in his paw. Each track is a vignette, but that doesn't mean it's all dour: I approve of any "classic" album that's got "Big Black Mariah" tearing shit up in the middle.

3. The Books - "The Lemon of Pink" (2003)
It was summer. I was listening to "The Lemon of Pink" on my ipod in the backseat of my dad's car as we drove on some main highway. My family and I was on vacation, and I was feeling physically tired after walking up and down the Atlantic City boardwalk for the better part of three hours. We were driving back to the motel we always stay at in Wildwood, and my sister was asleep, and my parents were talking about the song that was on the radio. I turned my ipod up. The song that was playing was "There Is No There", and I had already heard it a handful of times, but this was the first time I really listened to it, ya know? And it got to that part where everything disappears, and that found-sound voice starts talking about Gandhi, but I noticed that the simple beats behind it make the words seem gigantic, and truth instead of opinion. The song regains its footing, and after a couple seconds, at 1:42, the guitar started rushing toward my eardrum. I remember closing my eyes, hearing the pattern deepen and strengthen, feeling the chopped voices surround it after a few seconds. I kept my eyes closed and listened. I think that's all the Books ever wanted me to do.

2. R.E.M. - "Murmur" (1983)

The thing about "Murmur" is that it busted all of my preconceived notions of R.E.M. that had been previously based on "Losing My Religion", their godawful newest album "Around the Sun", and Michael Stipe's dancing. I heard that "Murmur" was their first CD, it was really good, and it sounded nothing like the current version of R.E.M., so I checked it out. To this day I'm not really 100% sure why, but when I first heard it, I was blown away. I thought this album was INCREDIBLE -- not to say that I dislike it now, but after a few months' worth of rust it's lost some of its lustre. For a solid month, this baby did not vacate the CD player in my car. I learned practically every word to every song, and touted songs like "Laughing" and "Sitting Still" to my friends, who couldn't seem to care less. I think what fascinated me about "Murmur" is the whole indie-before-indie aura it gave off: Stipe's vocals are inscrutable and lilting, the drum and guitar work are muted, and the melodies are knowingly fundamental. It's an internal record, sure, but it's damn fun to sing along to, and I'll pop it in every now and then to relive that month of my insane "Murmur" love.

1. Talk Talk - "Laughing Stock" (1991)

2007 will be, always and forever, the year I discovered Talk Talk, the year that "Laughing Stock" became one of my favorite albums ever. Some of my previous favorite albums: "Big Willie Style", "Significant Other", "American Idiot". Not the best track record. But I feel like I'm still going to be listening to "Laughing Stock" (...and "Big Willie Style") when I'm forty. For one, I first heard it about eight months ago, and I still listen to it ALL THE GODDAMN TIME. Like, more than an album I just bought two days ago and love wholeheartedly ("Big Doe Rehab", I'm lookin at you!) "Laughing Stock" is the closest thing to a perfect album I might have ever heard. I've listened to it so much that I can tell you that my favorite moment on the entire album comes at 1:52 on "New Grass", when Mark Hollis stretches the line "A hunger uncurbed by nature's calling" for an unspeakably gorgeous amount of time. The way this album radiates emotion, and religion, and love, and at times, silence... it's a brilliant piece of art, that's all I can say. I'm still getting into "Spirit of Eden", which appears to be just as completely awesome, as well as Mark Hollis' self-titled solo album. I want more "Laughing Stock", all the time. I fucking adore this album.

Who knows what I'll pick up and listen to in 2008? I've heard good things about the new Kid Rock.