Yeah, I know… We’re more than two weeks into 2008. But the end of 2007 was a hectic time. I had a computer crash and two of my Top Ten albums dropped just before Christmas. I’ve basically spent the last two weeks trying to figure out which of those two was #1 and which was #2.
Of course, it’s not readily apparent how that turned out because, as always, my list is alphabetical. Do you really care how my Top Ten hashes out, or is it just that I’ve got ten favorite albums of 2007?
So let’s get into it…
Arcade Fire – Neon Bible
I wasn’t really a fan of Arcade Fire. Not that I didn’t like them, but they were barely on my radar. Some of the magazines I read praised them frequently, but I’d never heard any of their material. So when I set out to try Neon Bible, I didn’t really have any expectations other than trying to determine what all of the fuss was about.
What I found was an album that stayed in heavy rotation for decent period of time. Sure, I’ve got my favorite songs on the album (“Windowsill” and the reworked “No Cars Go” chiefly among them) but I’d mostly just put the album on and let it play. I enjoyed taking a trip into the world that the band created. I dug the paranoia. I dug the epic scope. I dug the lush production.
Neon Bible was one of the most talked about albums of 2007 and it lived up to every word.
Joe Budden – Mood Muzik 3: For Better or Worse
In a year that saw many Def Jam artists release disappointing albums (Beanie Sigel, Fabolous, Freeway), it was ironic that the best album released by a Def Jam artist wasn’t even released by the label. But that’s what makes Joe Budden so great—his struggle.
Sure, since it’s technically a mixtape, the sound quality isn’t flawless. But Joe’s flow is. While many MCs claim to follow in Biggie’s footsteps, Joe is the true heir; he makes clever wordplay sound easy. His flow is conversational. When you rewind a Joe Budden rhyme, it’s not for clarity, it’s to hear again how he set it all in motion.
Mood Muzik 3 works for numerous reasons. It really showcases Joe’s gifts as an MC, whether he’s spitting at another MC (Jay-Z on “Talk 2 Em”) or with another MC (Joell Ortiz on “Warfare”) Joe always shines. When he’s venting about personal issues (“Dear Diary”) and mourning a fallen friend (“Send Him Our Love”) you’ve got to marvel at how truly unguarded he is. For me, this was the album of the year.
Feist – The Reminder
I’ll admit it; I’m kind of bitter about Feist’s success. For a few weeks this was my album. I bought it on the day it was released and listened to it religiously. But then the commercials came. And then I started hearing her songs getting played on Musiak at work. It was then that I had to relinquish the notion of being someone who exposed Feist’s music to someone who’d never heard of her.
For me the high points of The Reminder were the low points. I loved the mournful moments of “The Park” and “Intuition”. The latter was probably my favorite song on the album, because if there’s one thing that strikes a cord with my heart, it’s regret.
But I also enjoyed Feist’s growth as a songwriter. I appreciated how The Reminder was both more lush and more stripped down than Let it Die. And while I’m bitter that I didn’t get to be the one to share her with everyone, I’m anxious to see what the future holds for Feist.
Ghostface Killah – The Big Doe Rehab
On Tuesday, Dec. 4, I awoke to the following text from my best friend:
That new Ghost is crazy. He might be the illest storyteller ever.
Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to find out the claims were true.
And they really were. It’s hard not to have high hopes for a Ghostface album, as he’s one of the most consistent artists out. Yet Ghostface never disappoints. Sometimes you may think that his reach is straining (“White Linen Affair”) but after a few listens, everything usually clicks in place.
To be fair, though, every guest on The Big Doe Rehab delivers, as well—Raekwon, Beanie Sigel, Method Man and Ox all do their part to make this album great. There’s not one track on this disc that I’d skip over. And for a hip-hop album, that’s saying something.
Jay-Z – American Gangster
I respect Jay-Z. I respect that American Gangster was designed to silence critics. Obviously the album is a message to those critics who say that the lukewarm response to Kingdom Come was a sign that Jay’s day was over. But American Gangster was also aimed at the critics of hip-hop; those who would censor the content they deem unsavory. After all, by linking an album about a drug dealing with a movie about drug dealing, it’s meant to underscore that both are entertainment and that both should be viewed as equally damaging to the psyche.
Jay-Z is true to form on the album, but with a pinch of the growth evidenced on Kingdom Come. On “American Dreamin'” he tempers his depiction of the life with stark reality. And on “Fallin'” he gets brutally honest with the realization that the game has no winners. It’s really a testament to Jay-Z that “Ignorant Sh*t” sounds as vital today as it did four years ago when it made the mixtape circuit.
Little Brother – Getback
Little Brother gives me hope for the future. Despite the evidence to the contrary, they make me believe that there’s actually a market for hip-hop depicting aspects of the black experience that don’t have to do with negative stereotypes. Little Brother has released three albums and not one has disappointed.
There are some impossible things that they’ve accomplished with Getback. First off, they managed to make an album despite the departure of their most celebrated member, 9th Wonder, who had produced their songs. Honestly, Getback is on par with Little Brother’s two previous releases, and not a beat is missed despite the lack of major label backing.
Little Brother also managed to put Lil’ Wayne on a song to which I actually wanted to voluntarily listen, as “Breakin’ My Heart” (the sole song produced by 9th Wonder) almost made me a fan of the rapper. Little Brother also made a song about the attempt to look fly when broke, which is nearly unheard of in the current climate. “Good Clothes” is a prime example of the universal nature of Little Brother.
Lupe Fiasco – The Cool
For me, Lupe is an example of potential fulfilled. He was hailed as the future of the genre and he’s really delivered on that promise. The Cool was one of the albums that I’d anticipated, and when it finally arrived it was more than I expected.
What makes Lupe different than other MCs is his clarity of vision. He makes dense songs that require multiple listens. The Cool is like HBO’s The Wire—it’s full of nuance, you aren’t going to catch everything the first time through and it’s an example of the medium and genre’s high points.
Whether tack’ing child soldiers (“Little Weapon”) or fast food metaphors (“Gotta Eat”) Lupe always demands your ear. And even when he tries new things (“Hello/Goodbye”, “Go Baby”) it never really feels like he’s reaching beyond his comfort zone. The Cool is just one of those albums that leaves you wanting more, in a good way.
Radiohead – In Rainbows
With Radiohead, either you love them or you don’t get them. I love them, so In Rainbows was a treat, especially since I’m not one of those rabid fans who scours the net for live versions of songs that may make it onto a future album. When I heard the album for the first time, it was the first time I’d heard those songs.
In Rainbows rocks because it’s good to hear the band playing as a band again. Not that I haven’t enjoyed their more experimental releases, but there’s something refreshing about hearing organic music again. Leave it to Radiohead to make a step back seem like a leap forward.
“Bodysnatchers” sounds like it could be a The Bends-era b-side. “Nude” is hauntingly beautiful in its simplicity and “All I Need” is my personal high point of the album. Without a doubt, In Rainbows was one of those rare albums where people probably got more than their money’s worth.
Tegan and Sara – The Con
Listening to The Con is an interesting experience because it’s clearly an album designed to be an album. It’s not a collection of singles; in fact I don’t know if there’s a single to be found on the entire thing. And in 2007 it was a daring move to actually make an album.
For an album as dark as The Con it’s rather remarkable how well songs of varying speeds flow together. Only one song is over three and a half minutes and a few clock in at under two minutes, yet everything feels just right. No song is too short because the next one picks up perfectly; you never have time to mourn the passing.
If there’s a flaw it’s that after listening to The Con so many times, songs kind of feel weird out of the context of the album. But having an album that you’d only want to listen to in its entirety shouldn’t be considered a bad thing.
Amy Winehouse – Back to Black
I don’t think there was a musical act that was more hyped in 2007 than Amy Winehouse. I tried my best to avoid her, but to no avail. Her songs turned up on Rescue Me and in promos for Mad Men. Eventually I broke down and bought the album. Then I discovered that Back to Black was a really good album.
Distancing myself from the Winehouse persona, I was able to really dig into the album. I’m a vibe guy, so I dug the vibe that Winehouse and her producers set. Plus, I’m a fan of the era she was trying to emulate/capture. And for the first time in my life I was able to create memories to songs that were new, yet felt like they belonged in the past.
“Tears Dry on Their Own” is the sickest jacking of Marvin and Tammy since Meth and Mary. And the album’s two final tracks (“Some Unholy War” and “He Can Only Hold Her”) left me actually invested in Winehouse and hoping for the best because I really, really want a follow up.
And there you have it, my Top Ten of 2007 in alphabetical order. Agree? Disagree? Drop me a line.
