As we have in past years, Artvoice’s music staff pored over what 2006 left in the record racks and download queues and listened, listened, listened. Here’s what we’ve found to be the best.

ALBUM OF THE YEAR:

Neko Case

Fox Confessor Brings the Flood (Anti-)

Before 2006, singer/songwriter chanteuse Neko Case had already cemented an enviable legacy in indie circles between her series of acclaimed folk and country-infused records - like the exceptional pair of albums Furnace Room Lullabies and Blacklisted—in addition to her membership in the acclaimed powerpop supergroup The New Pornographers through three full-lengths and a number of tours. This year, however, she unleashed a masterpiece in the form of her latest release that puts her in a class of her own. With Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, Case weaves together a richly detailed tableaux of expressionistic and thematically interlocking stories and elegant arranged instrumentation with accompaniment by a superb cast of musicians including The Sadies, members of Calexico, The Band’s legendary Garth Hudson, Howe Gelb, Jon Rauhouse and Kelly Hogan. The star, aside from this remarkable cycle of songs, is Case’s smoky but booming voice that works an impressive highwire act here walking a dazzling line between hushed intimacy and mammoth, reverby grandeur. The sublime and exquisite opener “Margaret vs. Pauline” contrasts relative degrees of the classic hard luck story between two women. Her reworking of old gospel chestnut “John Saw That Number”—recorded in a stairwell at Toronto’s famed venue the Horseshoe—holds a joyful churchiness while adding a distinctively raucous edge. “Dirty Knife” is a sparse song that finds adornment in lavish wordplay while “Hold On, Hold On” plays in a dark confessional mode laden in metaphors of late night parties, blood and the devil. “The Needle Has Landed” makes for a haunting closer. Fox Confessor Brings the Flood is at once a complex but completely accessible collection of songs It finds an artful, gorgeous and uncompromising view into the human condition that so few other records have achieved.

—donny kutzbach

THE REST OF THE BEST:

(in alphabetical order)

Arctic Monkeys

Whatever People Say I Am That’s What I’m Not (Domino)

Perhaps the quintessential lyric of the year comes from this album’s closer, “A Certain Romance” where singer Alex Turner plainly states, “There’s only music so that’s there’s new ringtones.” It’s right on target, a sign of the times and deadpan genius, and all of that pretty much sums up Arctic Monkeys’ Whatever People Say I Am That’s What I’m Not. It’s a debut from a quartet of Yorkshire lads—lads indeed, with ne’er a one with more than 20 years. The band offers a welcome return to a brash brand of English working class, punk-inspired rock and roll painted by panicked, nervy guitars and back beat in songs of social surveying with sly cynicism and wit. And you can dance to it, too. This is the young band that has refreshingly returned greatness to Blighty rock and laid the latest step on the path from Beatles, Stones, The Jam, Clash and The Libertines.

— donny kutzbach

Badly Drawn Boy

Born in the UK (Astralwerks/Twisted Nerve)

One-man-band Damon “Badly Drawn Boy” Gough’s gift to put heartfelt honesty and straight-ahead sentiments to melodic hooks is unmatched and with Born in the UK. He continues his pilgrim’s progress of distilling it into a singer/songwriter’s eye view of modern pop universality but glanced through distinctly Brit eyes. Gough’s songcraft is stunning as ever and this time around he forgoes his back and forth use of stripped down basics and experimentation for a full-blown work bathed in choirs, massed strings and horn sections. The textured affair finds itself leans in the direction of Brian Wilson-worthy epics, Burt Bacharach’s tempered grandiosity and keen 1970s soul panache all without ever losing the austerity of Gough’s core sentiments and sentimentality.

—donny kutzbach

The Decemberists

The Crane Wife (Capitol)

Easily the year’s best album of fiercely literate prog-folk based on an ancient Japanese tale. Take that to the bank!

—donny kutzbach

Bob Dylan

Modern Times (Columbia)

There’s no hyperbole that hasn’t been used to describe Bob Dylan, so I’ll say that Modern Times, his 32nd studio album, is real good. In a way, this is a mere continuation of the sweet, bluesy Americana that marked 2001’s magnificent Love & Theft. But Modern Times one-ups its predecessor by being truly playful, relying more on charming, Tin Pan Alley pop melodies and referencing Alicia Keys in the album’s first minute. Hell, the album title itself is a joke—nothing here is remotely modern; it’s all timeless American songcraft. This includes Dylan’s lyrics, which are typically cutting, romantic and well-timed, especially on the sprightly blues tune “Spirit on the Water,” where he doesn’t shy away from his status as a senior citizen: “You think I’m over the hill/You think I’m past my prime/Let me see what you got/We can have a whoppin’ good time.” It’s a remarkable fact, but Bob Dylan is not past his prime. Am I saying that because I tend to think of old people are cute, shriveled peanut-headed babies? Possibly. Could it be that Dylan’s just that great? Sure. Either way, I just want to kiss him on top of his adorable little peanut head.

—joe sweeney

The Flaming Lips

At War With the Mystics (Reprise)

Lauded to be the Lips’ “return to guitar-based rock” more than anything this album is about the beat as there’s a wickedly looney rhythmic heart that carries through At War. Nowhere is this more apparent than the wonderfully disjointed freak funk of “Free Radicals” where Coyne argues ideologies over a track that sounds like an inside out version of something from Prince’s Lovesexy. At War manages to perfectly execute an almost unfathomable fusion of offbeat keyboard experimentation, riff rock, hovering in the clouds psychedelia and unashamed dance floor wiggle. “Mr. Ambulance Driver” is like a warped disco song that you can almost imagine Gloria Gaynor belting out. “The W.A.N.D.” is Black Sabbath-does-the-hand-jive bop (complete with fuzzy wah-wah guitar, snaps and claps) while Coyne rails against poisoned, power-crazed ideology: “Time after time those fanatical minds try to rule all the world.” At War does have “war” at the core, many wars actually: fanaticism vs. level-headed tolerance, spirituality vs. nothingness and the straight ruling class vs. the druggie dropouts. And in these wars, which side are you on? As the “Yeah Yeah Yeah Song” beckons, “If you could make everybody poor just so you could be rich/ Would you do it?” The evocative melancholic coda of “Goin’ On” ultimately sends out an existential lifeline. It’s a hopeful, piano-based cry out to keep struggling sent from the heart of and America broadcast to the universe.

—donny kutzbach

The Game

Doctor’s Advocate (Geffen)

With broad, West Coast cinematics and a “me against the world” attitude not seen since Tupac in his prime, Jayceon “The Game” Taylor beats the sophomore slump in spades with a record heavy with street savvy and honesty. Doctor’s Advocate touches on the usual second album stuff—how it goes after the fame comes and the problems it brings—but what’s most remarkable is its existentialist bend. Over gritty beats and dark synth loops, the Game chronicles a man alone. The doctor the title references is none other than Dr. Dre, Game’s mentor who went AWOL, and while’s nowhere to be found his shadow hangs heavy over this record. The Game is so obsessed with the gansta rap pioneering beat alchemist that he mentions him throughout. He references Dre and the legacy of N.W.A. so often and mostly with such respect that it makes Doctor’s Advocate a perplexing but fascinating record. While creativity and real style seem to be lapsing in hardcore rap here you’ll find plenty of bravado, a first-class list of producers, just enough homage to the glory of old school hip-hop and unmatched rhyme skills. Doctor’s Advocate fills the prescription.

—-donny kutzbach

Glossary

For What I Don’t Become (Undertow)

This is the American south circa now expressed via beautifully-crafted rock. Here’s a band that has seeming come at you from nowhere (or in this case, Murfreesboro, Tennessee) to make you take notice and have their music take root in your soul. What is it exactly that Glossary do? It’s been often tagged alt.country but with these songs, harmonies, musicianship and the overall vibe of this record and the band that made still makes me believe this is, simply put, timeless rock and roll. Singer/guitarist Joey Kneiser’s beautifully weary voice brings to life his tales of small town dead ends. Glossary’s songs have that emotional depth and power with songs and a sound bearing a rare emotional gravity but with punch. There’s so much raw passion and honesty here. Remember why you loved The Replacements, Uncle Tupelo and Whiskeytown? You’ll feel that same sort of thing with this band.

---donny kutzbach

The Hold Steady

Boys and Girls In America (Vagrant)

In describing the doomed, real-life poet protagonist John Berryman in “Stuck Between Stations,” singer Craig Finn says, “He was drunk and exhausted but he was critically acclaimed,” and those words can’t be far off from describing his band, as well. In a whirlwind of a couple years the Hold Steady has worked its way to become one of the greatest bands America has. Coming out within a calendar year of the epic Separation Sunday (Artvoice’s album of the year in 2005) The Hold Steady’s third is a fully realized, muscular clutch of Springsteenian epics haunted by luckless outsiders trying to sneak their way in. The record is more than just a come down from the “Killer Parties,” “Banging Camps” and 5:30 folk masses that The Hold Steady have been to over their two previous full lengths. It finds the band expanding on the big guitar rock territory they’ve laid while showing off the kind of growth that is pushing them to the forefront of indie rockdom. Finn proves himself to be one the great modern storytellers from the underbelly, a modern amalgam of the Beats, Bukowski as fuelled by The Stooges.

---donny kutzbach

Mastodon

Blood Mountain (Reprise)

A hosanna for the heavy! There is no band doing anything vaguely “metal” that can compare with Mastodon and the triumph that is Blood Mountain. On the heels of the superb, Herman Melville-inspired Levithan, their latest is forward thinking, erudite and challenging but ultimately fantastic hard rock. The band has creatively forged their own unique brand of grinding thrash, faster and heavier than hell, but also technical and progressive—two attributes which can certainly be deemed dirty words in the wrong context—in the best possible way. The rhythm section of drummer Brann Dailor and bassist Troy Sanders, capable of speed-crazy and thundering heights, with the ferocious dueling lead guitars of Bill Kelliher and Brent Hinds make for a powerful combo.

---Donny Kutzbach

Pearl Jam

Pearl Jam (Sony)

When Pearl Jam released their smart, punchy single “Worldwide Suicide” earlier this year, a local DJ made the insightful observation that the song was getting airplay because the band “finally got their balls back.” If this particular station’s playlist is any indication, then Nickelback must have freakishly large testicles. Male genitalia comparisons aside, Pearl Jam’s self-titled record is their best in a decade, full of rollicking rock ’n’ roll songs that toe the line between arena gloss and bar band swagger. It’s not the sequel to Ten or Vs. that everybody’s supposedly been waiting for, but it’s proof that these guys are in the canon of rock veterans you can count on. It’s the first three tracks that grabbed people like that DJ, because they’re all loud, anthemic gems that give the band lots of room to test-drive their newfound gonads. But the real masterpieces on Pearl Jam are the ballads; “Parachutes” is one of the greatest, most Beatlesque melodies the band has ever written, and “Inside Job” is a stunning, seven-minute mood piece that closes the record in true classic rock fashion.

---joe sweeney

The Raconteurs

Broken Boy Soldiers (V2)

Oh man, it would have been so sweet if Jack White had finally lost his Midas touch. He hasn’t, though. Besides, the Raconteurs isn’t just about Jack White—the group was formed by White and pop tunesmith supreme Brendan Benson along with Patrick Keeler and bassist Jack Lawrence—well known to rock fans as the rhythm section for critical darlings The Greenhornes. The members’ past efforts come into play here as The Raconteurs seem to arrive ready-made as a solidly functioning unit and eschew the usual pratfalls of many supergroups who coast through their studio sessions on ego alone. The songs on Broken Boys Soldiers run the gamut from 1960s-inspired pop (“Yellow Sun”) to riff-heavy rave-ups (“Hands” and the title track) and old school R&B ballads (“Blue Veins”) and though the album clocks in at just thirty minutes it’s pretty clear that we’re going to have to wait a lot longer if we want to reasonably give Jack White a public tongue lashing.

---mark norris

The Roots

Game Theory (Def Jam)

Where previous Roots records followed the soul/R&B/jazz path set by A Tribe Called Quest in the early 1990s, Game Theory feels more like Public Enemy than any Native Tongue. Frothing over with high-voltage beats that throw sparks and churn like a locomotive, the record’s attitude can be summed up in this lyric from Black Thought, which appears in the intoxicatingly aggressive title track: “And put the writing on the wall for y’all to read it and weep/Cause I’m the force of the Lord, the rage of hell/You’d rather head for the hills and save yourselves/My man rip drums like he ringin’ the bells.” As always, both Thought and drummer ?uestlove are on top of their game, and the rest of the group steps it up as well—especially Kamal on keyboards. Gone are the warm, Fender Rhodes-laden grooves of yesteryear, replaced by jarring synths and ominous low-register piano. Thematic motifs include discomfort (“Don’t Feel Right”), disillusionment (“False Media”), retaliation (“Here I Come”) and death (“Can’t Stop This,” a spectacular, eight-minute ode to the late producer J Dilla).

–Joe Sweeney

TV On the Radio

Return to Cookie Mountain (Interscope)

The genius of Return to Cookie Mountain is twofold. First, this Brooklyn outfit unifies postpunk, soul, prog rock, psychedelic, no wave, electronic, avant pop and experimental jazz without any shade of compromise. The second is that TV On the Radio have not only made these disparate style work as a whole but, in doing so, have also created an offbeat and unclassifiable new rock that proves addictive and utterly listenable. “Wolf Like Me” entrances with a thumping soulful precision. “A Method” feels like a twisted, darkly beautiful inside out recasting of a vintage Beach Boys song. The noisenik groove of “Wash the Day Away” is the perfect closing salvo of salvation. There is nothing else in 2006 remotely like Cookie Mountain. It is a remarkable record providing a wholly unique experience bold in splendorous scope and innovation.

---donny kutzbach

Scott Walker

The Drift (4AD)

The Drift may be the most horrific album ever made (and I mean “good horrific,” not “Kenny Rogers facelift horrific”). An almost unbearably dense mélange of sound effects, thundering percussion, faux operatic vocals and lyrical topics that range from death and disease to making pee pee and punching Irish donkeys, you’d never guess that Walker got his start as a 1960s pop crooner. Equal parts horror film, stage show and prog rock concept album, The Drift is a sea of dissonance, disturbing visuals and volume shifts that will have you jumping out of your seat—it happened to me in my car, waiting to order the 5 for $5 special at Arby’s. And if you think My Chemical Romance is Goth, check this snippet from “Clara,” a song about the execution of Benito Mussolini and the woman who insisted on dying with him: “This is not a cornhusk doll/Dipped in blood in the moonlight/Like what happen in America.”

–joe sweeney

The Walkmen

Pussy Cats (Record Collection)

Say what you want about the Walkmen, these guys know how to pull off a concept. It’s not hard to imagine Hamilton Leithauser and company joking about doing a song-by-song cover of Harry Nilsson’s “lost weekend” album over some beers at the neighborhood bar. Lots of bands talk about doing projects like this; the difference with the Walkmen is these guys made it happen. Nilsson’s booze-fueled original 1974 album-produced by a similarly soused John Lennon-never set the charts on fire but was always a fun, if indulgent, album that spoke to fans. In the hands of the Walkmen, the new Pussy Cats album maintains the festive atmosphere of its inspiration while losing a little of the incongruous LA session slickness that stuck to the original album. Truth be told, the Walkmen haven’t really come up with anything new to add to this musical “statement.” Rather, they turn in some very faithful interpretations of a fairly infamous record that was comprised mostly of covers anyway. That’s pretty post modern…what a concept!

—mark norris

Whysall Lane

Whysall Lane (Blackball Records)

As guitarist, vocalist, and chief songwriter for underground indie rock legends Versus, Richard Baluyut established himself as a master of atmospheric rock with a solid core of memorable, melodic pop. With Whysall Lane Baluyut doesn’t stray far from the sound his old band was known for. He still finds the subtle nuances and touching complexities embedded in devastating situations, and pushes them to the surface, exposing them like raw nerves. Some tracks are carefully measured, almost sedative, with a slow-burning intensity; haunting and bittersweet, lingering like some surreal fragment of memory, the kind where you can’t remember if it was a dream or it actually happened. Others are tight and driving, rough, but ferociously focused.

—matt barber