Top 20 of 2007: Easy Listening

12. Ryan Adams Easy Tiger

I will now attempt to produce an original thought, a topic heretofore untouched upon in the vast virtual real estate of Blogdom:

Ryan Adams frustrates the hell out of me.

Not so much? Well, maybe next time. Not that I think he's in any danger of stumbling upon this particular undeveloped tract of Web and getting pissed, but I want to make clear that I think Mssr. Adams is a monster talent, and I even enjoy some records of his that others have taken behind the proverbial woodshed (lookin' at you, Rock N Roll). I also think that he is in dire, dire need of a top-shelf producer. I get the awesomes just thinking about a T-Bone Burnett-produced or a Rick Rubin-produced or even a Danny Lanois-produced Ryan Adams record. This, my friends, is what makes Easy Tiger such a pleasant surprise.

Coming in at just under 39 minutes -- see the last post -- Easy Tiger is the easiest Adams listen since Heartbreaker (unless you count Demolition, which, despite being billed as an odds-and-sods collection, hung together remarkably well as an album). The songs may not be as universally strong as Heartbreaker or the majority of Gold (I don't think I'll ever forgive him for putting that nine-minute stinkbomb dead in the middle of what could have been a certifiably classic album), but there isn't a misstep among them. From the sublime singalongs "Everybody Knows" and "Two" to the arresting, stark beauty of "Oh My God, Whatever, Etc." and rueful smile of "Rip Off," it just feels right. Welcome back, Ryan.

Top 20 of 2007: Blood Harmony: Not As Creepy As It Sounds

13. Eisley Combinations

The best case for nepotism currently operating in rock and roll today: The Dupree family, four siblings and a cousin from Texas, wrapping gorgeous melodies and swirling, dizzying harmonies around everything they touch. I fell in love with this band listening to their 2005 debut Room Noises, and like that record, there's not a bad song in the bunch on Combinations. Sure, they tend to write about woodland faeries and old ships and other Majestic Things, and there's an even chance that "Invasion" is actually about pod people. But when you do it in stunning three-part harmony (and further, sibling harmony, which is inestimably better), you can sing about whatever the eff you want.

I will also take this opportunity to talk about a little thing called Leaving Them Wanting More. It's my personal philosophy that it is exceeding difficult for an album under 40 minutes to suck. I mean really suck: one may be indifferent to an album like that, but come on. You can't really even say that it's a waste of time! (Don't get me started on all the people that "hated" Weezer's Green Album. A pox on all their houses.) So when an album as good as Combinations clocks in at 34:26, it's, as I believe the Chinese say, double happiness. You get in, you kick ass, and you get out...Leaving Them Wanting More.

In a related story, the new R.E.M. album (Accelerate, out April 1, ooooooooooh baby) is rumored to be 34 minutes long. That is all.

Top 20 of 2007: Cool Matters

14. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club Baby 81

Full disclosure: I love this band. BRMC is one of those groups I just root for. Everyone has at least one of these bands. Here's an easy way to tell: If instead of "That album is shite," you find yourself saying, "I really need to revisit that record," then that's your band. I don't care who BRMC rip off, how pretentious they are, none of it. All I know is that they're unassailably cool. And cool goes a hell of a long way in rock and roll. The first exposure I had to BRMC (also cool, by the way: band names that can be abbreviated or shortened -- "Black Rebel" works too) was seeing them open for the Waterboys in Boston in 2001. Nobody had any earthly idea who these kids were, including us, and we were actually a bit salty that there was an opening act at all. When they hit the stage, though, we were hooked from minute one. Fuzzy, sexy, smoky, with songs that weren't so much songs as groove machines with no "off" switch -- in a word, cool. The first record, B.R.M.C., came out about a month later, and all of a sudden I had this new band to be excited about and share with less fortunate souls. Don't lie. You love that feeling.

After Take Them On, On Your Own (I really need to revisit that one) and Howl (an interesting blues-and-gospel-soaked, mainly acoustic change of pace) comes Baby 81, a glorious return to form. And as much as I despise "return to form" as a description of any album -- it's art, people, and art evolves -- I just wanted BRMC to rock me again. Well, Baby brings the rock. And the evolving as well. The grooves sometimes stray over into U2 territory ("Not What You Wanted," "All You Do Is Talk"), and they toss in a piano ballad ("Windows") for good measure. Hell, they even pull off a 9 1/2 minute song ("American X"), wherein the groove is broken into two pieces by (gasp!) some bitchin' soloing. I mean, it's fuzzy, slow soloing, but still.

Did I mention that I love this band?

Top 20 of 2007: Out of the Dark, Slowly

15. Mark Olson The Salvation Blues

Divorce is ugly.

In a world too easily desensitized to, well, everything, we often forget that a promise is a promise, and whenever that covenant bond is broken, it just plain hurts. I was shocked when I heard that ex-Jayhawk Olson and the sublime Victoria Williams had split. I was introduced to Victoria's music by my lovely wife, and I can truly say that I have never had the same visceral/spiritual reaction to seeing any artist as when Vic and Mark would ramble their family lovin' show into town (or when we would pack up and go find them somewhere along the road). We assumed that theirs was a forever story, and the news of their divorce was heartbreaking.

But joy comes in the morning, right? Sometimes. And sometimes you just remember the anguish of the day before. This is the space in which Olson gives us The Salvation Blues, a bittersweet rumination on loss and the redemption that can follow if you're brave enough to make it through the night. It's his first real solo record, as all seven(!) albums he put out after leaving the Jayhawks (under various versions of the Creekdippers name) were family affairs. There's not much new here musically, but it hardly matters when an artist has as compelling a sweet spot as Olson does. A true poet, he never shows all of his cards; even as a Jayhawk, his songs had a sweet mystery to them, and that trait continues here. Jayhawks mate Gary Louris shows up on a few songs, as he has been wont to do of late, and falls right into the glorious harmonies that made those early records so special.

I'm Just Sayin'. (interlude)

For anyone paying attention:

I have now exceeded my total number of 2007 posts, and it took only three weeks. Also, I now have enough posts that when you scroll down to the bottom of the page, you can click on "older posts."

I'm just sayin'.

Top 20 of 2007: The King Is Back

16. Jay-Z American Gangster

What does a rush of creativity sound like? Well, if your name is Shawn Carter, it sounds a lot like American Gangster, a positively massive record which had its genesis in a screening Hova took in of the Denzel Washington flick of the same name. (I haven't seen it yet, but i'm-a catch it at the dollar theatre. Star City -- holla!) He got inspired, and a few weeks later, boom. Another career highlight, a loose concept record based on his own personal "road not taken" story. Gangster is a course in savvy semi-autobiography, but leaves plenty of room left over to speak up on Don Imus. Whether he's out-stunting Lil' Wayne on "Hello Brooklyn 2.0" or riding with Nas over the freaky-deaky organ of "Success," Jay takes no prisoners. Nor, apparently, does he need hooks, as evidenced by the concise refrain of "No Hook": "I don't need no hook for this sheeeeeeit." (See?) And I didn't even mention the party-in-a-box horns of "Roc Boys (And The Winner Is...)," coming in just a hair behind Public Enemy's straight-out-of-nowhere "Harder Than You Think" in the "wildly exuberant horns that make you forget where you are and possibly embarrass yourself with public dancing" category.

(The PE record didn't make the Top 20, so I had to mention "Harder Than You Think." Nothing in 2007 rap made me happier than finding out that Chuck and Flav can still bring it in a big, bad way. A monster of a song that finds PE adding inspiration and poignancy to their always-righteous anger. Unreal. Anyway, back to your regularly scheduled programming.)

Now, I'm not in the first million to speak on Jay's no-paper writing method and effortless flow -- everybody knows he's the best MC alive -- but come on. He's ridiculous. One of the most nakedly obvious facets of hip-hop is that it's a young man's game, but here comes Jay: still clever, still astonishingly fluid, still making genius beat choices. Gangster is a thinking record, on its feet for the whole 60 minutes, daring you to listen twice. It'll take more.

Top 20 of 2007: The New Guy

17. James Morrison Undiscovered

Hands-down, my favourite new artist of 2007. It's ridiculous to me that no one has really heard of this guy. (Unless all the people who have are lame or from VH1, in which case I obviously wouldn't know about them, since I don't associate with lame people. Or VH1 people.) At any rate, in a world being quickly and seemingly irreversibly drained of singers -- or maybe just overfilled with folks that have no business singing (looking at you, Brandon Flowers), this kid can flat-out blow. It's an unlikely package: He's 22, British (didn't you see the "u" in "favourite?") and a shaggy-haired dead ringer for Chris Martin, but Morrison's voice, a 70/30 split between Stevie and early Rod, is a revelation.

And the tunes! Sweet Lord, the tunes! Naturally soulful (no small feat), familiar without being cloying -- when did it become a crime to just write great songs? The strenuous avoidance of pop is just so damn trying to me. Listen to "Wonderful World" or "Under the Influence" and try not to sing along. Morrison also scores major points with "The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore," a knockout of a ballad that just underscores the fact that no one writes good ballads anymore.

Man, reading that back, maybe I should have ranked him higher.

Top 20 of 2007: Pop Factory Blues

18. Fountains of Wayne Traffic and Weather

Usually, a Top 20 list (or a Top Anything list, i imagine) isn't the venue to air grievances, but I have a problem with Fountains of Wayne. They're arguably the finest pop songwriters working today, and I am convinced that there is a perfect album hidden inside each of their four releases. When they bring it, they're untouchable. The problem, however, is this: there are, with the possible exception of their debut record, one to three "Come on!! Why??" songs on each album. Not bad songs -- just too many steps down from the rest of the material. A little bit of what I like to call not bringin' it. A modest proposal: some quality control. Not Ryan Adams-level quality control, mind you. Just a bit.

That said, Traffic and Weather is another near-perfect record, and the first that I would classify as a grower. It's kinda refreshing to have an FoW record reveal its charms slowly; usually, I just leave my money on the pop nightstand and marvel at the effortlessness of it all. But the thing that most consistently knocks me out is their uncanny ability to wring genuine emotion from the seemingly mundane. Sure, they're clever. Sure, they're funny. And every once in a while, they're good for a kick-ass guitar solo. It's that extra layer, though -- the big-city loneliness of "Someone to Love," the restless ache of "New Routine," the unabashed sweetness of "Michael and Heather at the Baggage Claim" -- that makes them extraordinary.

I also got to see them live for the first time this year, and through a series of random acquaintances, had nachos and beer with the band after the show. Superfluous? You bet. But hey, that's blogging, folks.

Top 20 of 2007: ...And They're Great Live!

19. Rogue Wave Asleep At Heaven's Gate

The missus and I saw Rogue Wave open for Feist last October and were immediately smitten. It was one of those heard-of-'em-but-never-heard-'em scenarios, and show led to album purchase led to "ooooooh this is good" led to this here post. Swimming in wide-open melody, chiming guitars and inventive arrangements, Gate was one of the year's easiest listens, front-loaded with gems like "Chicago x 12" and the hand-clappinest indie-rock song of the year, "Lake Michigan."

Top 20 of 2007: I Say "20," You Say, "Double Down"

20. The Shins Wincing The Night Away // Band of Horses Cease To Begin

Sometimes, you just gotta call it like it is: 2007 was a year full of disappointing records. I've never seen a year where so many of my favorite artists were slated to put out records, and I was freaking out at the possibilities. And then...not so much. So let's take a minute to recognize those who did not bring their "A" game in the '07. Hell, some didn't even bring their "B-" game, but that's another list. Here goes: Interpol! (Man, oh man) Bloc Party! (Mmm...you hate to see it) The New Pornographers! (That one hurt) Kings of Leon! (OK, this bit is tired -- speed it up) Also not making the grade in shocking fashion were The Innocence Mission, Over The Rhine, Lucinda Williams and Patty Griffin. Notice how I threw all the ladies in at the end? Yeah, I don't know why either. But enough carping. As with any year, there were sure shots that delivered and surprises you never saw coming. That's why we do this, kids. That, and free records.

Crap. I need to get me some free records. Well, on with the show.

I know, I know: co-20s. I can already hear you: "What's the matter, sissy boy? It's not a Top 21! Why don't you try again when you're not a woman?" (Oh, I know you. You would totally call me a sissy boy. Don't act like you wouldn't. Frankly, it demeans us both.)

Ahem.

The bottom of the list contains, really, two halves of the same coin: The January Album That Hasn't Really Been Played Out, But Still...and The Late Bloomer That You Are Powerless To Not Spin Over And Over But May Not Give A Crap About Six Months From Now.

See? Now who's a sissy boy? What's that? Still me? Damn. Shoulda seen that comin'.

In a year chock-full of potential awesomeness, Wincing The Night Away was 2007's shot across the bow and an attempt from Portland's never-miss kids to shake things up a bit. I grow tired of people who dismiss albums for not fitting "the band's sound," as if artistic growth was something to avoid. Now, Wincing wasn't Kid A or anything, but the hushed tension and noisy release of "Sleeping Lessons" was a great counterpoint to instant-classic Shinsy goodnesses like "Turn On Me" and "Australia." Not all the choices worked -- some songs were a bit proggy, of all things -- but James Mercer's melodic sense has yet to fail him. Or us.

I fell in love with Cease To Begin in my car. I never go far enough these days to get through an entire record, but Cease clocks in at under 35 minutes. Winner. Reminiscent of last year's Everything All The Time without being repetitive, the killer melodies and hazy, spectral beauty will get under your skin. Singer Ben Bridwell still sounds way too much like Jim James of My Morning Jacket, but damn if this record doesn't make for some fine night driving music.

2008 is the new 2007. or the old 2007. it's really too early to tell.

Hey hey, my my, it's time for the Top 20 of 2007. (Of course it doesn't rhyme. I'm a non-conformist.) Just wanted to make sure there were no tricky December releases that, like a woman or a fine grilled cheese, seduced my tender palette. Finding none, we shall -- how do you say? ah, yes -- begin.

Also, I've decided to try out normal capitalization for a while. Hold on.

daring to hope (damn right).

lest this dissolve into a blog solely devoted to my declining health, let us suffice to say that staying up to watch "nightline" last night was doing my body a grave disservice. but it was for a noble cause, a just and righteous cause that i am not afraid -- not afraid, i say! -- to shout to the winds right here on my blog that nobody reads:

i am hooked on democracy.

you read it right, friend(s). i simply cannot. get. enough. i knew who had won the caucuses before "nightline" came on, but i wanted to share in the experience. the history of it all. i wanted to watch charlie gibson and george stephanopoulos stand out in the des moines cold and break it down for me. (i don't have all the "fancy cable," with the "CNN" and the "MSNBC," so ABC News will have to do. truth be told, i'd only watch the cable channels for non-peak hours nerd coverage anyway.) i've always been idealistic, perhaps to the point of ridiculousness and definitely to the point of mass disappointment when things aren't as "West Wing"-y as i'd like. which, it goes without saying, has been very, very, VERY often these past seven-odd years. bearing witness to the worst administration in history can be, if you'll allow me, a drag. or, if you prefer, a bummer. that said, it seems like change may finally be in the air. i can't tell you how excited i would be with an obama-huckabee general election.

let's clear something up straightaway: i'm an obama man. i believe that he's an honest-to-God one man paradigm shift, and i think he represents the best shot at legitimate change in presidential politics since maybe bobby kennedy. wouldn't it then be joyful to, as a nation, a family, experience a race with two guys that both trade in the politics of hope? i gotta say -- i wouldn't vote for the guy, at least not over obama, but i have love for mike huckabee. i love that wall street hates him for the dastardly, un-Republican trait of realizing that spending money on education and roads is good for the electorate and, oh yeah, actually giving a shit about poor people. it's also massively encouraging to see a down-the-line conservative Christian candidate not being, in the charming words of my friend josh, "a retarded fuckstick." (i always promised that if i ever quoted you, shua, i'd do so warmly and accurately.)

anyway, to use the parlance of our time, i'm hella stoked. four days until new hampshire.

it's on.


photo courtesy of The New York Times.

the death of the party.

i've been married for ten years now (!), and the missus and i have a groovy Christmas Eve tradition which was initially intended to be a close-family-only gathering. After a few phone calls by a confused grandmother, however, it expanded, and has now evolved into a spirited free-for-all welcoming, well, anyone and everyone we've ever met.

and we serve chili.

don't ask -- there's no cultural/spiritual/pedagogical reason. we just like the hell out of some chili. and after ten years, we have a reputation to uphold. literally tens of people look to us to provide spirit (and spirits) each and every Christmas Eve. in short, we bring the party.

but not this year.

in an embarrassing addition to my already robust physical malady portfolio of 2007, i had what basically amounts to an angry ball of tissue removed from one of my vocal cords the week before Christmas. (i'd throw a link to the post where i talked about this, but it's literally two posts down from this one. more blogging in '08! ya heard??) following the surgery, i was on complete voice rest for six days. this will be something, i thought. i will retreat inside myself, and i will ponder faith and sex and God and the life of the mind. instead, i got a massive sinus infection and laid about moaning for a week. except that i couldn't moan. i just felt silently sorry for myself. after some "conversation" about it, the wife and i decided it was just too much work to pull off the party. my father-in-law came over (it was always part of the tradition that we open gifts with my wife's family after the last stragglers had gone home), and we had a bottle of wine and a bomb lasagna. except i didn't have any of that, because i had been told by my doctor that very morning that i was to be alcohol, caffeine and tomato-based-food-free for the next month. my leftover turkey was delightful.

Christmas came and went and was glorious, save for the rookie mistake we made in not pre-assembling the "big gift," a twisty crash-'em-up car track for our four-year-old. this set us back about an hour, during which we were exactly as occupied with putting the thing together as we were with keeping our one-year-old's Godzilla tendencies in check. (we're thinking of having his name legally changed to Jack the Destroyer. just has a ring to it.) young kids at Christmastime are exhausting and a pain in the ass and just about the best thing ever.

for New Year's, i carried around a beer bottle full of water all night long. come on.


the picture above was nicked from hecatedemetersdatter.blogspot.com, whose proprietor, hecate, describes herself as "a woman, a witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a lawyer, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth." outstanding.