ARTVOICE ALBUM

OF THE YEAR

Arcade Fire

Neon Bible

(Merge)

From the first listen to the band’s 2004 debut Funeral, there was little question that the Arcade Fire was special. That album’s balance of art-rock aesthetic with a massed, multi-instrumental collective teeming with equal parts of despair and hope signaled this band was capable of big things. They fulfilled the promise two and a half short years later. Neon Bible is nothing shy of marvelous. It takes the band’s baroque orch pop sprawl and spreads it over a wider canvas with a framework of scrupulously played songs with hypnotic and detailed arrangements. Thematically, Neon Bible delves into populism, personal failure, existentialism, religion and vast societal pressures with true grace and matched power. The haunting opener “Black Mirror” serves to unravel a mysterious, archaic oracle as Butler calls out in a tortured vox switching between English and French over a driving beat. “Intervention” is a bombastic and beautiful epic led by Chassagne on a gigantic pipe organ, while Butler makes like a post-modern Springsteen—a noted influence on the songwriting on Neon Bible—aiming at populism with a conscience. With the couplet “Who’s gonna throw the very first stone?/Who’s going to reset the bone?” Butler lays plain a link between wrongdoing and redemption. “Antichrist Televison Blues” at first listen appears a folked-up slip of acoustic rock but boils over into a protest anthem embroiled in post-9/11 paranoia, religious fervor and media-crippled delusion. A revamped version of “No Cars Go” returns from the band’s self-titled EP, remaking the stripped, elegiac song with big elegant orchestration. The dirgey closer “My Body Is Cage” again features the massive pipe organ and sounds like either a prayer or plea to excising worldly woes and spiritual confinement. Neon Bible bears the signs of the kind of art that is likely to stand long after fleeting fame erodes.

—donny kutzbach

The rest of the best

(in alphabetical order)

Lily Allen

Alright, Still…

(Capitol Records)

For her debut album, Alright, Still…, some A-list producers, DJs and musicians helped Lily Allen assemble an interesting, seamless pastiche of her musical interests and influences, concentrating primarily on dub reggae, ska, old school soul and the hodgepodge of modern top 40 as its essential building blocks. While the resulting ear candy is pleasing enough, it’s Allen’s voice—as subtly sweet on one track as it is intensely sexy on the next, or sly and biting on the one after that—and the acute observations contained in her wickedly witty lyrics that make her first record one of the best of 2007.

—matt barber

Avett Brothers

Emotionalism

(Ramseur)

Emotionalism is “an inclination to rely on or place too much value on emotion/(or an) undue display of emotion.” In the last 10 years in America, it was not a popular sentiment. It was a weakness. The Avett Brothers refuse to believe that. Their record is testimony to the strength of embracing what is in your soul. It is an exercise in the faith that when people see truth and honesty they will know and embrace it. In addition, they can flat-out play. The combination of classical bluegrass sounds with more current rock song structures find the Avett’s difficult to categorize. Musically they are complex and beautiful. The brothers harmonize “So when you run make/sure you run/to something and not away from” is a call to courage. It is a plea to embrace a shared existence. “Will You Return” sounds like a bluegrass doo-wop song and the opening lyric is delivered in a laugh- leaving little doubt over whether these brothers cherish the chance to play and record together.

—joseph carver

Boris and Michio Kurihara

Rainbow

(Inoxia)

From their intestine-exploding, low end droning doom to quiet and serene dreamtime passages: the prime power of the Tokyo trio Boris lies in their shifting dynamics. They regularly play ear shattering punk and metal but they consistently show they can do so much more. It’s all on display here. From a band that consistently issues asides from their albums proper, this is not exactly a follow up to 2006’s magnificent Pink but it’s not far from in it scope and dramatic compositions. Boris joined by guitarist Michio Kurihara—a pysch guitar virtuoso and regular fixture with acts the bands Ghost and Damon & Naomi—take a series of psychedelic twists and ethereal, surreal turns for an incredible nine tracks that range from mind-altering kraturock, moody and sharp soundtrack-type interludes, mind expansive heavy psych, shoegazey guitar entwinements and even mellowed balladry. Not only one of the year’s most varied offerings but also one of the best.

—donny kutzbach

The Broken West

I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On

(Merge)

The Broken West has made the sort of record power pop aficionados live for. From the jumpy Elvis Costello-influenced “On the Bubble” to the beautiful, breezy Byrds interpreted by Teenage Fanclub jangle of “So It Goes” and “You Can Build An Island” to the British Invasion feel of “Slow,” the sweet harmonies and booming chorus of the Americana infused “Down in the Valley,” and blue-eyed soul in “Hale Sunrise,” there isn’t a clunker in the bunch. It’s nothing groundbreaking, just guitars, bass, drums, and piano played by some honey-voiced California boys. But lack of innovation will likely be the last thing on your mind when you’re under the spell of their classic, nearly flawless song craft.

—matt barber

Okkervil River

The Stage Names

(Jagjaguwar)

I wish I could take you back to a time when every dimwitted rock critic did not use Brian Wilson as the talisman of songwriting. If I could somehow do that…take you back to a purer time when the cult of Brian’s genius was small enough as to not require membership cards, I would tell you that Will Sheff of Okkervil River was a genius…just like Brian Wilson. Sheff may be rocks must creative melody writer. His lyrics come spiteful and fast and can make you feel like your ears are making their way through a holiday corn maze. He takes on historical misfits, travails of travels and touring and is unafraid to bite the lyrical hand the feeds with segue way into a line from “The Sloop John B” in one song. The Stage Names probably comes across as the band’s most digestible record, trading in some of its previous obscurity with more pop songs but the lyrics don’t suffer. Sheff’s “Plus Ones” could digress into a novelty track with all of its song title references but instead it leaves you marveling at his ability to find themes and connections at every turn. “Unless It Kicks” is pure adrenaline from a poet while “A Hand to Hold the Scene” marries images of Danny Bonaduce with the life lived on the other side of the television. “John Allyn Smith Sails” aims to set the record straight about the self-inflected demise of poet John Berryman.

—joseph carver

Dinosaur Jr.

Beyond

(Fat Possum)

The extinction of the Dinosaur turned out to be a temporary condition. After years apart the original trio realigned a couple years ago to bring back the old songs, but no one could have expected a new record to match the strength and appeal of the band’s classic material. This blistering record that proves guitarist J Mascis, bassist Lou Barlow and drummer Murph have lost little if any of their power since they’ve been away. Beyond is a slab of prime Dino from “Almost Ready”—which is so perfect it could have been delivered in a time-machine from the You’re Living All Over Me sessions—to the warm and fuzzy slack-pop of “This All I Came to Do” and the paint-peeling epic “It’s Me.”

—donny kutzbach

Dr. Dog

We All Belong

(Park the Van)

With We All Belong this funky, shaggy Philadelphia quintet have distilled some of the finest points of rock and pop’s heaviest hitters—the Beach Boys’ perfect harmonies and knack for arrangement, the Beatles’ sparkling songcraft and coy humor, along with the “stop on a dime” musicianship and wood shedding nature of the Band—but at their core they remain an unpretentious outfit with a good time and good tunes in the hearts, an unerring DIY sensibility and a bar band’s ability to reel and rock. We All Belong is an uproarious and easy to love ballyhoo of boisterous rock-and roll stew where there’s never a note wasted. Some of the high points: “My Old Ways,” “Alaska” and “Worst Trip.”

—donny kutzbach

Feist

The Reminder

(Arts & Crafts/Cherry Tree)

It may be a new age in music when a commercial for a music player/service was the vehicle that delivered the single of the year to the masses, but ultimately the success of Leslie Feist couldn’t be any more indicative of the old way: Here’s a real, uncompromised artist who has carved out a unique path an instead of languishing in anonymity, she’s become a star. Sure, the easy feeling of “1234” is an easy one for the big time—gentle, wide-eyed pop with a huge, undeniable singable hook—but beyond that The Reminder’s varied palate of coolly jazzy rock, torchy ballads and cabaret fare offers a lot more. From the refiguring of Nina Siome’s “Sea Lion Woman” to the funky and natural feel of “The Moon My Man,” it’s all there.

—donny kutzbach

Glossary

The Better Angels of Our Nature

(www.glossary.us)

One of the best records of the year and you can download it for free from the above site. This largely unheralded Tennessee outfit is making the finest stuff that borders on the edges of country, rock and roll and punk. Joey Kneiser’s keen emotional depth as a lyricist is matched by hiss vocal delivery. He writes really simple and plain but ultimately soulfully sharp and engrossing stories getting at life’s travails and burdens of being caught in the small towns of the American South and playing in a band. These songs are so real, so cuttingly dead on. Then it’s that wearily perfect voice makes every word all the more true and when it gets wrapped around wife Kelley Kneiser’s heavenly alto. Toss in Todd Beene’s blazing fretwork and a testimonial song like “Blood on the Knobs”—anchored by the repeated line “still holding on to rock and roll”—and it’s clear that this is a band to believe in.

—donny kutzbach

Richard Hawley

Lady’s Bridge

(Mute)

Every time Sheffield, UK-based songwriter Richard Hawley releases a new album, critics are quick to bestow the ol’ “best of his career” tag to their review. It would be easy to take issue with this easy critique if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s true, generally speaking. Of all the modern songwriters going, Hawley is the only one who manages to make each recording sound and feel like a thrilling new chapter or a fresh new episode. As such, Lady’s Bridge might aptly be retitled, Portrait of an Artist in His Prime. If it wasn’t for the lush arrangements, sublime guitar playing, rich baritone vocals, and eloquently nostalgic songwriting, one might rightly take issue with Hawley’s refusal to change his formula. Happily, Hawley’s repeated musical recipe represents the only worthy modern equivalent to the likes of Roy Orbison, Scott Walker, and, dare we say, Duane Eddy.

—mark norris

LCD Soundsystem

Sound of Silver

(DFA/Capitol)

Great electronic music is a full-body experience—stimulating the mind, kick-starting the endocrine system and accelerating the heart rate. And it’s tough to think of any artist in 2007 that rocked our bodies like James Murphy. The man behind LCD Soundsystem made the best party record of the year, and like all music of its elite ilk, Sound of Silver has legs way beyond the dance floor. On top of the irresistible dance-punk beats and shout-along choruses, Murphy’s album possesses subtly textured moments worthy of the artsiest rock band. “Someone Great” ponders the death of a loved one over a gorgeous sea of synths, with a glockenspiel mimicking Murphy’s vocal melody. “All My Friends” features several instruments playing one note in staggered fashion, resulting in a beautifully unsettling pop song. And if that wasn’t enough, Sound of Silver ends with the clever, Beatlesque ballad “New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down,” which closes with the lines, “Maybe mother told you true/And there’ll always be somebody there for you/And you’ll never be alone/But maybe she’s wrong/And maybe I’m right.” If you’re a DJ at a singles bar, I dare you to cue that one up.

—joe sweeney

The National

Boxer

(Beggars)

Matt Berninger of the National sounds the way all young men wish they had sounded when they were sixteen. The timber of it makes you feel like you could enjoy hearing him read your car manual. But it isn’t just that unnaturally deep delivery. The beauty of it lies in its cadence. In another time Berninger would have been the beat poet of his time. Instead he is fronting Indie music’s most darling Brooklyn band, The National. Surrounded with tidy songs and a powerful rhythm section, Boxer is a wealth of hooks. “Mistaken for Strangers” could have been written in the mid-eighties while “Green Gloves” is one of the year’s most endearing love song. The song’s subject- not a lover but rather the love of companionship, evokes images of Manhattan streets at midnight populated only by groups of friends in near proximity for warmth and safety.

—joseph carver

Peter Bjorn and John

Writer’s Block

(Almost Gold)

On first listen, the 11 tracks on Writer’s Block are all simple affairs. But behind the record’s low-budget production and basic song structures lies some unexpectedly fertile artistic ground—philosophies on life, relationships, getting older and dealing with the past, coupled with pretty, hands-in-your-pockets-sounding melodies. The song “Objects of My Affection” illustrates just how delightfully deceptive the trio can be. Driven by two guitar chords, a snare drum march and a chorus that contains the line “I am more me,” the track seems like nothing more than fodder for whiny teens. But then there’s the third verse: “And the other day, this new friend of mine said something to me/‘Just because something starts differently, doesn’t mean it’s worth less’/And I soaked it in/How I soaked it in/And just as to prove how right he was/Then you came.”

—joe sweeney

Radiohead

In Rainbows

(self-released)

Ever since Radiohead deconstructed the sound that made it famous on its seminal 2000 album, Kid A, every subsequent effort has come with the expectation of some form of stylistic shift. There’s none of that to be found on In Rainbows, an album that finds the band favoring distillation over reinvention—these are 10 songs boiled down to their essence, resulting in the most straightforward Radiohead record of the millennium. It’s a combination of everything that makes the band sublime (ambitious song structures, slow builds with blissfully harmonic releases, disorienting electronic noises, otherworldly vocals), but with one important new wrinkle: sex appeal. In Rainbows is marked by moments of brutally unrequited love, like this couplet from the song “All I Need”: “I’m an animal/Trapped in your hot car.” In Rainbows finds the humanity in the machine, which makes it Radiohead’s best record since Y2K.

—joe sweeney

Josh Ritter

Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter

(Sony)

On “The Temptation of Adam,” Ritter crafts the most intricate, beautiful love song of 2007. But Ritter is not looking to carve out a Barry Manillow fanbase. In “Mind’s Eye” he alludes to political dissatisfaction and a willingness to take matters into his own hands. Ritter manages to expose the insecurity of giving oneself over to love while working in references to Dr Strangelove, chemical half lives and missile silos. I don’t think that Ritter ever repeats or bests the beauty of this song but as a record but Historical Conquests still shows diversity and light heartedness throughout.

—joseph carver

Bruce Springsteen

Magic

(Sony)

Bruce proves it again.

—donny kutzbach

Wilco

Sky Blue Sky

(Nonesuch)

Sky Blue Sky was said to be a break from the band’s boundless experimentation—be it Tweedy’s spiraling lyrical abstractions or the freed, changeful arrangements ushered in with the help of personnel like drummer Glenn Kotche—for a return toward their original country rock trajectory. Not exactly. As much as there’s a sense of straight ahead lyricism, Tweedy hasn’t entirely forsaken the oblique poetics that have become staple, almost his calling card. This is a dark record that pings with the kind of pain bourn of self-doubt, desperation and isolation. The sadsack lament of “Hate It Here” sounds like Stax meets Steely Dan. “Shake It Off” is a winding, layered powerhouse that takes several listens to full appreciate for its meticulousness and dynamic. It’s not all precision, 1970s jazz-pop and downhearted feelings here. Wilco’s strength has been for being an organic band, whatever the sonic palate du jour it might be toying with. The perfection of Wilco circa now coalesces on “Side With the Seeds” as Tweedy’s lyrics evoke nature’s mystery. The band finds magic as a crepuscular piano line blends with the Cline’s frantically-picked, bubbling lead while Kotche finds a tempered beat alongside John Stiratt’s ever steadying bass that builds into an orchestra of reaching sound. This is Wilco at its finest, with one foot rooted in tradition but challenging itself and doing something that sounds like nothing else. It is the hallmark of Sky Blue Sky. This is a gentle beauty with all the character and continued evolution that has always been paramount to one of one America’s greatest bands.

—donny kutzbach

Amy Winehouse

Back to Black

(Republic)

It’s a shame that 2007 will be more remembered as Amy Winehouse’s year as tabloid trainwreck fodder and that the single “Rehab” will likely be seen as fucked-up-but-cheeky self-fulfilling prophecy. This is one of those rare pop albums that’s adventurous and digestible, unflinchingly honest and radio-friendly. It will probably never sound dated, because it’s spun from such timeless stock (‘60s R&B, vocal jazz, reggae, lyrical confessions a la Mary J. Blige). And at the same time, Winehouse’s combination of girl group reverie and end-of-the-bar lamentation is utterly, fascinatingly fresh, especially at a time when Joss Stone is considered a real soul singer. She’s one of the most delightfully nuanced vocalists around, and a hell of a songwriter—if she does nothing beyond this, her legacy will be intact.

—joe sweeney

Young Galaxy

Young Galaxy

(Arts &Crafts)

Here is a true late-night listen with majesty and power that manages to be low-key and downbeat in nature while being steeped in an epic trinity of psychedelic pop, a studied taste for British post-punk and indie (with a particular favor for shoegaze) and a gospel-inspired intensity. Husband/wife duo Stephen Ramsay and Catherine McCandless aren’t afraid to stare right into the darkest corners of life to ultimately perhaps gleen salvation. “Swing Your Heartache” with haunted organ has Ramsay rallying against institutional constraints and the dangers and traps of living in a damaged world, ultimately crying out the salvo of realization: “Life’s not a rehearsal.” A similarly haunted quality pervades the confessional “Wailing Wall.” There’s a cool, unnerved groove to “Lost in the Call” and while the autumnal “Embers” finds McCandless’ powerful voice delivering a stunning, absorbing dash of mildly lysergic folk-rock. “Outside the City” reverberates with the grandiosity of Echo and the Bunnymen at their height. The mesmerizing “Lazy Religion” could be a lost track from Spirtualized masterstroke Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space.

—donny kutzbach