In which ten bands or artists seriously get under my skin over the past year, I write about them on this site, and at least one person takes it extremely personal, commenting something along the lines of, “But hey, what do you expect from someone who places bullshit like Pig Destroyer at the top of his 2007 favorites list?” (Hint: it’s already happened.)

The Just Because You Pour Syrup on Shit Don’t Make It Pancakes Award goes to Kanye West, whose third full-length Graduation (2007) can’t disguise the fact that dude still can’t write sixteen bars without a lame fashion reference or his gargantuan ego irritating the piss out of me, despite an abundance of slick keyboards and studio-wizard production tricks.

The winner of the Pop Song That A Four-Year-Old Could Bang Out on His Casio Award goes to Peter Bjorn and John’s “Young Folks,” for which the term “replay value” has absolutely no meaning, and should be sending the Pet Shop Boys‘ lawyers into a frenzy. And for Christ’s sake, put a comma in your name already, douches.

The No. Oh, God, no. Where’s the remote? Mute. Mute! MUTE! Award goes to Feist, who has prevented me from enjoying a stress-free evening in front of the television ever since her trite sorority-pop single “1, 2, 3, 4″ has been featured on that god damn iPod Nano commercial for the past month.

The “Do You Think the Bass Is Taking Away from the Vocal? Just Take Down the Bass and Bring Up the Vocal” Award goes to Beirut, whose music, despite some decent arrangements and instrumentation, reaffirms my preference for the shrieks of a cat being burned alive over Zach Condon’s painfully melodramatic caterwauling drowning out the mix.

The Your Inflated Grandiosity Still Can’t Hide Your Laughably Weak Songwriting Award goes to none other than The Arcade Fire, a tangent I don’t even want to go down right now. By the way, what’s with that Napoleon Dynamite-looking dude?

The I Genuinely Have No Idea Why Someone - Anyone - Would Want to Listen to Your Music Award is given to Lily Allen, whose inexplicable popularity has cost me more than a few precious hours of sleep.

The unanimous winner of the Let’s Just Tattoo the Words “Betty Ford” on Your Forehead and Get It Over With Already Award goes to none other than Amy Winehouse, an artist I actually thought was kinda hip and classy at one point in time. (shudders)

The “Ehh,” Accompanied by a Shrug of the Shoulders Award goes to Radiohead, who apparently released a record titled In Rainbows (2007) this past year (do you guys know anything about this?), and which has been the catalyst behind several hostile emails asking me why I haven’t covered it on the site.

The You Know, I Don’t Mean to Be Harsh, But Your Voice Makes Me Feel Like Someone Is Scraping the Enamel Off My Teeth with a Bread Knife Award goes to Jolie Holland, rightful heiress to Joanna Newsome’s throne as far as sheer vocal terror factor is concerned.

And finally, the winner of the coveted Floodwatchmusic’s Worst Band of 2007 Award goes to The Shout Out Louds, a short-bus collective of Swedes whose uninspired, horribly derivative slop couldn’t even hold a candle to Robert Smith’s worst musical experiments.

Here are some other best-ofs from the audioblog fam:

Check out the consistently-stellar Audiversity’s Top Albums of ‘07 (Part One, Part Two). There are a lot more metal selections than I would have expected, which was pleasantly surprising.

Noz presents his annual Best Rap 2007 over at Cocaine Blunts.

Chilly Jay Chill and Professor Drew LeDrew of Destination: Out offer up their 2007 favorites and rediscoveries.

Christopher over at Fuck I Look Like? posts his favorite songs of 2007, with vids.

Geek Down’s Joseph went nuts with the year-end lists this year, and all are excellent drops. Check out his favorite albums, live shows, older introductions, and loose ends.

Cosmo Lee presents his hilarious Top 10 Metal Holiday Gifts over at Invisible Oranges.

Doctor Zeus hosts his own Annual End-of-Year Hate-Off Spectacular, which is pretty much a must-read. Check out his Radio Raheem-styled Part One (the hate) and Part Two (the love).

Jeff Weiss has been killing it with his 50 (!) Best Albums of 2007. Be nice to the sponsors.

Lastly, here’s another monstrous Top 50; this time it’s Dart Adams’ favorite hip hop albums of 2007 over at Poisonous Paragraphs.

I’m still anticipating something from Dan Love, Aaron and the crew from Metal Lungies, and Travis over at WYDU.

And that should just about do it for 2007. As always, thanks for reading, and have a swimmingly good New Year’s. See you in ‘08.

10. The Budos Band The Budos Band II Daptone 2007

Let me make one thing clear: one of the last things the world needs is yet another group of mediocre white musicians who call everyone “cat,” conclude every sentence with “ya dig?” and are prone to “funk it up” with unimaginative horn arrangements and endless riffing on some lick that was played out back in the mid-’70s. That being said, the eleven musicians that comprise Staten Island’s The Budos Band are emphatically not one of the aforementioned groups. Imagine the soundtrack to a lost Blaxploitation flick from 1973 set in Northern Sudan and starring bad-ass Fred Williamson, the voluptuous Pam Grier, and Antonio Fargas as a wise-cracking sidekick and you might have a pretty good idea of what The Budos Band II (2007) sounds like. It isn’t often that I use the noun “pimp” as an adjective, but that word really sums it up best here. With a heavy emphasis on exotic percussion, some stellar horn arrangements, and a collective focus on brevity and a song-first ethos to ensure that no one overplays, this is one of the freshest and most exciting instrumental records I’ve heard all year. And it also happens to be funky as hell. Why the hell couldn’t I have known of these guys when I was looking to book a band for my wedding? Daptone Records stays winning in ‘07.

“King Cobra” – The Budos Band 2:47 (The Budos Band II, Daptone 2007)

9. Andrew Bird Armchair Apocrypha Fat Possum 2007

In order to gain a better understanding of why Andrew Bird is such an astounding musician, it is absolutely imperative that one experiences him in a live context. In addition to the enormous swells of sound that he constructs on the fly with his violin and a few loop pedals, Bird is also an exceptional guitarist and whistler, and his humble presence and candor are irresistible. It’s almost impossible to take your eyes off him, and this warm receptivity is translated note-for-note to Armchair Apocrypha (2007), Bird’s tenth outing and his strongest to date. Here he delves deeper into his own brand of Appalachian folk, Eastern European gypsy songs, expansive blue-collar rock, and lounge-jazz themes with a head-first aplomb, lacing them with his signature witticisms and obscure literary references. An outstanding album whose meticulous craft and attention to sonic detail is reflected within its grooves, by a musician who deserves every last bit of success from his hand in creating it.

“Plasticities” – Andrew Bird 4:27 (Armchair Apocrypha, Fat Possum 2007)

8. 3 Inches of Blood Fire Up the Blades Roadrunner 2007

“Kickass.” “Awesome.” “It fuckin’ rules.” And these are some of the more complex descriptors that apply to Fire Up the Blades (2007) by Canadian sextet 3 Inches of Blood. Just when I think I’ve suppressed, or at least reined, the few remaining idiotic immaturities left over from my early teens, this band comes along and within seconds I’m headbanging senselessly, air-shredding above my car’s steering wheel, and awkwardly attempting to transform my immediate environment into a violent mosh pit. Such are the impulses of a self-repressed metal geek who delights even at the mere discovery of swords-and-sorcery song titles like “The Great Hall of Feasting,” “God of the White Silence,” and “Rejoice in the Fire of Man’s Demise.” Besides the ripping Maiden-like duel-guitar work, the key to the group’s effectiveness is not one but two vocalists: Jamie Hooper, possessor of a demonic rasp by way of the Ninth Circle of Hell, and Cam Pipes, who provides the most wildly over-the-top, hair-raising shrieks this side of King Diamond’s finest hour. Lyrically, we’re not far from the contents of your average Dungeon Master’s Monster Manual, with plenty of flesh-eating beasts, various dragons who need slaying, and hordes of warlords who ride goats into battle. It would be convenient to dismiss 3 Inches of Blood as a metal-insider’s joke or some novelty act geared toward overweight, balding men in their late ’30s with overstretched Judas Priest t-shirts. This band is the real fucking deal: loud, excessive, and unrestrained, but more importantly, proof that there’s nothing wrong with metal being fun. Oh, and the cowbell? It’s real, and it sounds spectacular.

“The Great Hall of Feasting” – 3 Inches of Blood 3:53 (Fire Up the Blades, Roadrunner 2007)

7. Burial Untrue Hyperdub 2007

Few records have so successfully and seamlessly melded the apocalyptic dystopia of Future Sound of London’s Dead Cities (1996) with the vocal manipulations and production aesthetics of Luomo. With Untrue (2007), London’s Burial (real name anonymous) guides the listener through the desolate landscape of an abandoned metropolis, inhabited by ghosts without graves and the dying sparks of decaying machinery. My entry-level knowledge of dubstep prevents a qualified analysis of this album in relation to its peers, but the sheer uniqueness of Untrue oversteps mere trivialities like which section of the record store to file the disc. Crackly, neck-snapping rhythms collide with disembodied voices, icy string pads are buoyed by murky throbs of bass, and mangled synth tones scrape their way to the surface, all enveloped in a mysterious aural environment that’s neither welcoming nor alienating. Believe the hype with this record; it’s easily the most haunting release I’ve heard this year, an album whose depths are worth exploring again and again, and whose presence lingers long after its final notes echo into space.

“Ghost Hardware” – Burial 4:53 (Untrue, Hyperdub 2007)

6. Ion Dissonance Minus the Herd Abacus 2007

In order to fully prepare oneself for Ion Dissonance’s Minus the Herd (2007), it is important to remember that one most certainly will experience a near-mental breakdown accompanied by a severe aural thrashing sometime during its duration. It’s inevitable, so embrace it, fuel it, and nurture it in all its brutal glory. Let the tortured roars of vocalist Kevin McCaughey (interview here) engulf your senses. Feel the machine-gun guitars and seismic drums numb your perceptions into comfort. Don’t worry yourself with attempts to grasp what is going on around you: stuttering time signatures, monolithic riffs, gut-churning bass frequencies. Simply accept the music’s barbed inherencies, and be thankful that the group streamlined their approach from the inescapable headfuckery of their last release, 2005’s Solace to material that resembles actual songs. Most importantly, be grateful that bands like Ion Dissonance exist to relentlessly push the limits of what can be done with structured, amplified sound, challenging the listener to interpret it from a fresh and entirely different perspective.

“Through Evidence” – Ion Dissonance 2:47 (Minus the Herd, Abacus 2007)

5. Deadbeat Journeyman’s Annual ~Scape 2007

In my interview with him back in June, Scott Monteith, pka Deadbeat, explained the transition from his brand of mesmerizing, all-engulfing dub to more uptempo, dancehall-oriented material on Journeyman’s Annual (2007) as such: “I’ve come to realize that I much prefer to play in a club setting than theaters or art spaces.” For longtime fans who consider his New World Observer (2005) as a modern dub masterpiece (reader, meet author), this revelation was slightly unsettling. Yet Journeyman’s Annual introduces itself with “Lost Luggage” and “Melbourne Round Midnight,” two of the finest, most delicious dubscapes Monteith has committed to tape, before veering into “Refund Me,” an exercise in hyperactive percussion complemented by the urgent exclamations of UK MC Bubbz. Elsewhere, “Gimme a Little Slack” features the sing-song patois of Jah Cutta over an abrasive ragga-soca pattern, while “Where Has My Love Gone” overflows with thick organ stabs and a crystalline acoustic guitar. In other words, Monteith hasn’t so much changed as refined his sound, casting a wider net over his creative impulses yet still retaining the warm, personal nature that has always characterized his work. It was a risk that paid off wonderfully, resulting in Deadbeat’s most exciting outing to date.

“Melbourne Round Midnight” – Deadbeat 5:56 (Journeyman’s Annual, ~Scape 2007)

4. The Field From Here We Go Sublime Kompakt 2007

The great Igor Stravinsky used to apply strict structural boundaries to his compositional methods, reasoning that these limits would force him to prioritize considerations like economy and control over his instrumentation. It is by this very principle that From Here We Go Sublime (2007) succeeds marvelously. In an age where virtually any combination of sounds can be manipulated and extracted from a laptop and some cheap sequencing software, The Field’s gated lo-fi samples, hypnotic repetition, and crude palette of sonic material to draw from is an immense breath of fresh air. Over skeletal canvasses of alternating hi-hats and bass kicks, Axel Willner treats tiny, triggered snippets of sound as colors, subtly layering shades to darken the texture and varying their intensity with a turn of an oscillator. The result of this process is a collection of ten distinct and fascinating studies in electronic minimalism but also one of the most immediately likeable records this year, even for those who have little interest in ‘trance-y microhouse’ or whatever (I know it’s been years since anything from Kompakt has caught my attention). If there ever was an unofficial sequel to Orbital’s essential Orbital 2 (1993), From Here We Go Sublime is it.

“Over the Ice” – The Field 6:56 (From Here We Go Sublime, Kompakt 2007)

3. The Sea and Cake Everybody Thrill Jockey 2007

My infatuation with Chicago’s The Sea and Cake has always been an elusive one, an obsession that’s difficult to narrow down into suitable justifications like stellar songwriting, extraordinary group interplay, and a unique approach to making breezy, easily digestible pop songs. A less complicated approach would be a blanket statement something along the lines of: I simply love this band and everything about them. The cynic in me continues to wait for The Sea and Cake to finally release a bad record so I can say I’ve ‘outgrown’ them or, “they used to be good,” but for ten-plus years now I still remain a faithful devotee. Everybody (2007) deviated from the band’s sonic trajectory by stripping nearly all of the fluffier electronics and mechanical rhythms that were introduced on The Fawn (1997), wiping the template clean, and re-introducing the essentials of their sound: guitars, bass, drums, the occasional pedal steel, and Sam Prekop’s ethereal voice fluttering above the mix. Other than that, not much else has changed: guitarist Archer Prewitt continues to craft rich colors and intricate countermelodies from his guitar, Eric Claridge still holds my vote as the most underrated bassist in pop music history (I’ve lauded him here and interviewed him here), and John McEntire’s metronomic precision remains unfazed. Few records this year have sounded warmer and more inviting, demanding little and offering so much in return.

“Middlenight” – The Sea and Cake 3:32 (Everybody, Thrill Jockey 2007)

2. Stars of the Lid …And Their Refinement of the Decline Kranky 2007

If the records on this list were rated simply by the amount of stereo time they received, …And Their Refinement of the Decline (2007) from Stars of the Lid would top it by a long shot; I’ve been falling asleep to it every night for the past eight months. Some listeners “get” this band’s music while others equate it with the boredom one gets from watching paint dry. I won’t bother with any futile attempts to convert the naysayers by reciting a litany of descriptors comparing this double-disc work of art to everything from the glow of heaven’s sunlight, various states of rapid eye movement, psychotropic substances, and what happens when one is finally stepping through death’s door. I won’t digress into the transcendent “purity” of the music here, or how long, gorgeous drones, guitar textures of indescribable beauty, raindrops of acoustic piano, and snippets of found sound are all arranged with the perfect delicacy of a snowflake. I certainly don’t want to get too personal and reveal that I’ve been anticipating this release for almost six years, and how I nearly started crying when I placed the needle on side A and the first washes of sound on “Dungtitled (In A Major)” began tingling my eardrums. Everyone has their own intensely personal relationship with an artist’s music whose level of comfort and emotional resonance can only be equated to returning to the womb, and for me, this is where the sounds of Stars of the Lid reside.

“Don’t Bother They’re Here” – Stars of the Lid 10:10 (…And Their Refinement of the Decline, Kranky 2007)

1. Pig Destroyer Phantom Limb Relapse 2007

Until I heard Phantom Limb (2007) I had always viewed Pig Destroyer as a mild curiosity, a bass player-less trio who evoked the spirit of old-school grindcore much more proficiently that they could actually play it. I couldn’t have been more clueless about this band. My casual interaction with this record soon mutated into a rabid obsession, to the point where I was predisposed to blurting out, apropos of nothing, “So, like, Pig Destroyer is pretty much the best fucking band ever,” to anyone within earshot. The first impression one receives upon hearing Phantom Limb’s gritty opening salvo “Rotten Yellow” is how downright ugly the record is, a lumbering, festering mass of buzzsaw riffage, light-speed blastbeats, and a vocalist who sounds like he’s gargling with the microphone. Then, slowly over time, the methods to this madness are revealed, and every consecutive listen reveals a wealth of highlights, like the mutilated drum breakdown that interrupts “Thought Crime Spree” at the 0:52 mark, the hilarious televangelist sample that concludes “Lesser Animal,” or the warped vignettes of “Girl in a Slayer Jacket” and “The Machete Twins.” Guitarist Scott Hull and drummer Brian Harvey crash and burn through dizzying time signatures, shards of engulfing noise, and retro ‘80s thrash riffs while vocalist J. R. Hayes mutilates his larynx with the demented ferocity of a man struggling to escape out of his straight jacket. I love every last second of it. Phantom Limb is the most punishing, impassioned half-hour you’ll experience this year.

“Thought Crime Spree” – Pig Destroyer 2:17 (Phantom Limb, Relapse 2007)

It’s that time of year again, kids, that magical time when every reputable audioblogger and online music publication offers up their Best of 2007 lists for their own aggrandizing self-amusement. A few things have changed here at Floodwatchmusic since the Best of 2006 list a year ago. For one, this year I made more of a conscious effort to keep track of, and listen to, as many new releases as I could get my hands on, despite my general inclinations to seek out long-established favorites for extended periods of time and revisit reliable standbys. This would ensure that little would slip past my ears that deserved an inclusion on my best-of roster, unlike last year (hello, Lilys, Relay, and Ludicra). I also increased the number of standout records from ten to twenty and got rid of the ‘What I Really Listened To’ follow-up post, whose selections cross-pollenated each other last time, for obvious reasons. Today I’ll post the first ten, on Wednesday the rest, then on Friday I’ll take cheap shots at everyone’s favorite bands and artists and wait for the playground disses and death threats to blow up my Inbox. Fun! Onto the contenders:

20. Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings 100 Days, 100 Nights Daptone 2007

What Sharon Jones and Daptone Records house band The Dap-Kings lack in originality is made up for by the irresistible, Southern-fried funk grooves found within the group’s third outing 100 Days, 100 Nights (2007). But even better is the record’s dusty fidelity, a warm, analog-compressed sound that would easily pass as a Stax platter circa 1968 at a blind listening session. It’s tough to imagine Jones’ earthy, honey-dripped voice sounding better in front of any other band, such is their level of musicality and intuitive response to her vocal (see The Dap-Kings’ uncredited contributions to the success of Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black [2006]). The title track has been receiving some exposure on the airwaves lately but it’s the less prominent cuts on the album that I enjoy hearing the most, like the uptempo romp “Tell Me” or the jukebox balladry of “Humble Me.” It’s doubtful that Jones will push the direction of Soul into uncharted territory anytime soon, but in the meantime, the summertime warmth and retro vibe of 100 Days, 100 Nights will suffice quite nicely.

“Nobody’s Baby” – Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings 2:27 (100 Days, 100 Nights, Daptone 2007)

19. A Place to Bury Strangers A Place to Bury Strangers Killer Pimp 2007

I love effects pedals. Literally, I dream about them. In my dream, I’m about to plug my guitar into an infinite chain of stompboxes, spread out on the floor of an abandoned warehouse space as far as the eye can see, a colorful menagerie of tube distortions, icy choruses, infinite delays, and some unidentifiable homemade joints with nothing on them but a switch and a few knobs. In other words, I’m Oliver Ackermann, curator of Death by Audio effects pedals and frontman for Brooklyn trio A Place to Bury Strangers. Touting oneself as “the loudest band in NYC” is a pretty surefire way to catch my attentions, and I had been waiting for over a year for some kind of official release from these guys when this limited-edition, self-titled set dropped this past summer. A Place to Bury Strangers (2007) simply complied the free mp3s that had been available on their site plus a few other studio jams to pad out a full-length, but I suppose anything is better than nothing from the band. Apparently it’s next to impossible to describe the sound of A Place to Bury Strangers without comparisons, so here’s my go at it: combine the drum-machine clatter of early Ministry with the stoned psychedelia of The Jesus and Mary Chain, then top with the white-noise pop of Medicine and you’ll have a pretty good idea of what this group sounds like. Or: shards of digital feedback raining down like sheets of broken glass over candy-coated dream-pop confections while an archaic drum machine thunders away relentlessly underneath. Sure, it’s derivative, but one could have worse influences to display on their sleeves, and if anything, this will whet my appetite for their deafening live shows.

“To Fix the Gash in Your Head” – A Place to Bury Strangers 3:51 (A Place to Bury Strangers, Killer Pimp 2007)

18. Beneath the Massacre Mechanics of Dysfunction Prosthetic 2007

Jaw-dropping technical death metal at its finest. Canadian quartet Beneath the Massacre’s Mechanics of Destruction (2007) is the closest sonic approximation of technological warfare on record, with rapid-fire blastbeats capable of tearing through steel armor and bursts of distortion rippling across a nuclear-charred landscape like the radiation from dirty bomb. It’s pretty intimidating stuff, not to mention utterly vexing when one tries to wrap the head around the truth that the band’s drummer, a one “Justin Rousselle,” is in fact a real, living human being. The absence of concrete grooves here is justified by the lightning-speed guitar runs, the advanced mathematical time structures, and subterranean growls of vocalist Elliot Desgagnés. Hell, the whole thing is a mindfuck of massive, unavoidable proportions; it’s much wiser to let Mechanics of Destruction complete its assault head-on and pray that you make it out alive. To echo the sentiments of fellow blogger Joseph: what the hell are they putting in Montreal’s public water supply?

“The System’s Failure” – Beneath the Massacre 3:29 (Mechanics of Dysfunction, Prosthetic 2007)

17. Wu-Tang Clan 8 Diagrams SRC 2007

I honestly didn’t think 8 Diagrams (2007) would make my best-of list when I was first absorbing it a few weeks ago, yet here I am still listening to it on an almost daily basis. I’m fascinated by its flaws, floored by the highlights, and still addicted to the chemistry and the competitiveness that hip hop’s finest bring out in each other. Ignore the “hip hop hippie” accusations and internal bickering about the production; musically, 8 Diagrams is clearly RZA’s most personal statement to date, undoubtedly a love’s labor that would qualify as a worthy swan song in Wu-Tang’s recorded legacy. Other than the train wreck that is “The Heart Gently Weeps,” every selection here succeeds at being a uniquely independent entity: the bizarre Western gallop of “Wolves,” the epic mid-tempo centerpiece “Stick Me for My Riches,” the nocturnal menace of “Gun Will Go.” Even the lesser filler tracks like “Tar Pit” and “Get Them Out Your Way Pa” are preferable to most of the rubbish that qualifies as hip hop nowadays. This record currently has more detractors than defenders (in no small measure due to the almost unbearable anticipation and pre-release hype, to say nothing of the hideous cover art), but as I predicted in my original analysis, let 8 Diagrams age five years or so and watch the scales tilt the other way.

“Rushing Elephants” – Wu-Tang Clan 3:00 (8 Diagrams, SRC 2007)

16. The Mugs Here Tomorrow Skinny Fat 2007

The best record of the year from the best band you’ve never heard of. Just when you think that every harmonic and structural possibility in pop music has been exhausted, Brooklyn quartet The Mugs have found a fresh new way of interpreting those oh-so-familiar changes within the standard pop song framework on Here Tomorrow (2007). This is a record to get lost in, more of a 50-minute ‘experience’ than a tangible product, and one that requests your full attention in order to make the most of its rewards. What’s most remarkable is how well the band succeeds at every style they attempt – raucous barroom rock (”Grey Cat Row”), sunny afternoon pop (”Lady Liberty”), keyboard-heavy dirges (”Asleep All Day”), and a myriad of others – yet still manage to mold the album into a cohesive statement. Unassuming, refreshing, and without any pretension, Here Tomorrow is perfectly content with its own disposition as a quiet little masterpiece.

“Indian God” – The Mugs 4:37 (Here Tomorrow, Skinny Fat 2007)

15. Dinosaur Jr Beyond Fat Possum 2007

“Getting the band back together” is almost always a bad idea. It’s the reason why I pray that Morrissey and Marr will maintain their severed alliance and Kevin Shields doesn’t get any wise ideas about attempting to create a Loveless v2.0. And somehow, with every possible card stacked against them – J’s ghostly, cocaine-hangover demeanor, Lou’s purported inability to bury the hatchet, and an unshapely Murph removing his shirt onstage – Dinosaur Jr pulled it off last year for an original-lineup reunion tour with dates across the country. Sure, I saw them, and they kicked ass (despite playing in one of the worst venues in the Boston area). Did I expect You’re Living All Over Me (1987) levels of studio magic from their post-tour recording sessions? Christ, no. But Beyond (2007) surpasses anything I could have expected from guys this age. Granted, I have a few qualms about the record – Barlow’s bass is buried in the mix and Murph naturally sounds a little less emphatic than the drum giant who absolutely slaughtered the kit on Bug (1988) – but look at what I’m comparing it to (albeit unfairly). If you don’t own Dinosaur Jr’s SST catalog then Beyond will probably induce little more than a shrug of the shoulders, but for those of us who grew up with those records (read: crabby thirty-something white males), this release is like a long-awaited homecoming between childhood friends.

“Crumble” – Dinosaur Jr 4:04 (Beyond, Fat Possum 2007)

14. Ghostface Killah The Big Doe Rehab Def Jam 2007

In what’s practically become an annual event, the latest from Tony Starks makes a further case for Ghostface’s rising candidacy as hip hop’s G.O.A.T. With a lyrical dexterity that is honed sharper every year, a riveting storytelling ability on the level of the mighty Slick Rick and Kool G Rap, and an encyclopedic proficiency in metaphors and street slang, it’s become harder to argue against the claim. While The Big Doe Rehab (2007) is certainly no Fishscale (2006), it’s still a solid follow-up, its only hindrances being some flavorless production (a significant chunk of it from Sean C and LV of The Hitmen) and some ill-advised inclusions, like the pointless interlude “The Prayer” and an embarrassing, track-ruining appearance from weed carrier Shawn Wigs. Still, Ghost makes the most out of his surroundings, like the gripping capers of “Shakey Dog Starring Lolita” and “Yolanda’s House” (featuring a hilarious and absolutely scene-stealing Method Man), the complex wordplay on posse cut “Paisley Darts,” and the introspective depths of “I’ll Die for You.” If anything, just anticipating what kind of crazy shit will come out of Ghost’s mouth will be entertaining enough for most listeners.

“Yolanda’s House” – Ghostface Killah feat. Method Man & Raekwon 4:36 (The Big Doe Rehab, Def Jam 2007)

13. Underworld Oblivion with Bells ATO 2007

After a lengthy five-year wait since the duo’s last full-length, Underworld finally released Oblivion with Bells (2007) this past autumn to a somewhat tepid public reception. Some of the more clueless listeners that were expecting Ibiza-shaking dancefloor anthems like “Rez” and “Born Slippy” were sorely disappointed, while many were indifferent to the record’s subtle mood pieces and artier tendencies. Like their previous A Hundred Days Off (2002), this one was definitely a grower for me, and it took at least a dozen listens before I began to make any headway in penetrating its dense atmosphere. I’m still reaping the record’s rewards, like the dark, sophisticated elegance of “Beautiful Burnout,” closer “Best Magmu Ever”’s dubby momentum, and album highlight “Holding the Moth,” which has got to be one of the sexiest things I’ve heard all year. Karl Hyde’s stream-of-consciousness vocals are given the same prominence as a persistent hi-hat pattern in the left channel or an icy synth that streams through the center of the mix, never processed the same way twice, and partner Rick Smith’s intuition for pacing and structure is impeccable. I’d also be remiss if I failed to mention that the group has the loveliest-sounding string pads of any electronic outfit working today. I don’t expect to see Oblivion with Bells on too many ‘07 year-end lists; its requires a certain patience and intimacy for its flower to fully blossom.

“Best Magmu Ever” – Underworld 9:12 (Oblivion with Bells, ATO 2007)

12. El-P I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead Def Jux 2007

My own personal sequence of events following the release of Def Jux figurehead El-P’s I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead (2007) mirrored those of Fantastic Damage (2002) five years ago. At first listen I found the record off-putting, confrontational, muddled. An artistic disaster, if you will. I staunchly resisted it for weeks. Eventually my curiosity got the best of me, and I began to approach it cautiously, one track at a time. Then came the addiction. Before long I was incapable of making it through the day without my fix of the avant-garde collages of “Smithereens” and “Flyentology,” the thunderous mechanical breakdowns on “Run the Numbers,” and the b-boy renaissance of “EMG.” El-P’s pen is sharper than ever, conjuring sci-fi futurescapes and barbed political scribes couched in his remarkable gift for metaphor and cryptic wordplay. And for once, the guest spots don’t sink the record; here, their subtle contributions actually improve it, like Matt Sweeney’s heavily-wah’d guitar on opener “Tasmanian Pain Coaster” or Chan Marshall’s dry vocals on “Posenville Kids No Wins.” The sheer sonic density of I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead ensures that it will receive a few dozen listens before it can even begin to be grasped, and a record like this that forcefully pushes the envelope – not just that of hip hop, but structured sound – rightfully deserves every one of them.

“Smithereens” – El-P 4:32 (I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead, Definitive Jux 2007)

11. MF Grimm The Hunt for the Gingerbread Man Class A 2007

While many of his fans were still somewhere in disc two or three of last year’s American Hunger (2006), Monsta Island Czar MF Grimm dropped The Hunt for the Gingerbread Man (2007) this past summer, an odd little record whose most notable characteristic was that it flew under the radar of most heads and over the heads of most critics. Concept albums in hip hop are nothing new, if not already on their way to becoming a fad these days, but Grimm’s adaptation of a timeworn fairy tale into a violent and riveting ghetto narrative has to be heard to be believed. Here Grimm adopts the persona of Gingy, whose adventures include seducing the sweet-toothed Gretel (”My House”), his escape from the fox – after he’s been eaten, in graphic detail – and subsequent revenge (”The Fox”), and managing his various criminal enterprises in the metaphorical world of Candyland (”Gangsta Pastries,” “Half Baked”). On the surface, the whole thing sounds corny as hell and would likely fail miserably were it not for Grimm’s phenomenal lyricism and some choice productions (the majority of it handled by Stricknine). Undoubtedly his darkest and most introspective release to date (”Gingy” could pass as a cut from one of his gully mid-’90s white labels), Gingerbread Man is a fascinating listen from start to finish and a fine testament to Grimm’s imagination and continued relevance.

“Head in the Clouds” – MF Grimm 4:08 (The Hunt for the Gingerbread Man, Class A 2007)

On Wednesday: the countdown continues.

Fireside “Beautiful Island, Ugly Natives” Hello Kids Startracks 1998

While making some adjustments to the ol’ year end list the other day I realized that I can’t remember the last time I was really into a non-metal band whose instrumentation consisted of a couple of guitars, bass, and drums. By “into” I mean a good three weeks of listening to nothing else, roles that bands like Jawbox, The Sea and Cake, Shudder to Think, XTC, and a handful of others have played at one point in time. Sweden’s Fireside were a curious fixation of mine back in the late ’90s, a quartet whose discography consists of exactly one outstanding full-length (1997’s Uomini d’Onore), a decent odds-and-ends comp (Hello Kids [1998]), and half a dozen slabs of derivative garbage that range from carbon-copy Quicksand imitations to third-rate power pop. Really, if you’re looking to pick something up from this identity-shifting group (as well you should, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing about them here), just look for the date of release on the back; if it’s anywhere between ‘96 and ‘98, you’ll probably be fine. If it isn’t, well, save your receipt (2003’s rancid Get Shot).

Of course, you have to have an appreciation for raw, discordant rock with a heavy emphasis on bass/drum syncopation and combative guitars slashing through the mix (I refuse to use the word “angular,” but if I did, it would apply here). “Beautiful Island, Ugly Natives,” the first cut on Hello Kids, must have been an outtake from Uomini d’Onore, as I have no knowledge of it appearing on a label comp or 7″. It’s one of Fireside’s finest moments, opening with a spacious vibraphone and guitar duet before the beat drops in. Vocalist Kristofer Åström sleepily mutters various disconnected thoughts like, “Turn out the light, there’s an insect on my bedroom floor,” that border on textbook emo but are left-field enough to shed the image of a mascara-clad kid scribbling in the margins of his Creative Writing notebook. At 3:06 the band rips into a crashing mid-tempo coda with a noisy and staggering lead guitar, thick nebulous chords, and a buzzing monophonic synthesizer that connects everything together. It’s admittedly not the most original formula but the band refined it quite well, even if it was only for a few years before they grew bored with it and moved onto something else.

“Beautiful Island, Ugly Natives” – Fireside 5:07 (Hello Kids, Startracks 1998)

I find it curious that everyone has some kind of ‘Best Summertime Songs’ or ‘Top Summer Records’ list, yet few do the same for when winter settles in. I suppose the reasons for this are obvious, at least for those who live in or around New England; you don’t find too many ‘Shoveling Out the Car’ mixes or ‘Favorite Jams to Ward Away Frostbite” playlists on the iPod. But I have just as many records that I associate with winter as I do summer – or fall and spring, for that matter – and since my impressions of them are just as potent as the beach ball and barbecue variety, I feel like I should give these albums some shine.

Ellen Allien Berlinette BPitch Control 2003

I can’t recall exactly who or what turned me onto Ellen Allien, but when I picked up an import copy of Berlinette (2003) sometime in early ‘03, I completely disappeared into it for a good three weeks. Shy of a few early Autechre discs, I had never experienced a record like this: fifty minutes of pure mechanical rhythm, hyper-distorted and violently robotic, with tiny fragments of melody to grasp onto and not much else. Even Allien’s voice was processed with some kind of alien technology, and I used to imagine that behind her gorgeous features, just below the skin, was a complex system of cyborg-like electronics. I distinctly remember driving around Boston at night through sub-zero temperatures with the heat cranked and this record blaring out of the speakers at 130 decibels. Whether any future releases from Allien will surpass this one remains to be seen (Thrills [2005] did very little for me), but if I ever find myself cruising through an empty metropolis in the middle of a January night, Berlinette will be the only soundtrack to accompany the ride.

“Sehnsucht” – Ellen Allien 6:20 (Berlinette, BPitch Control 2003)

Björk Vespertine Elektra 2001

The very notion of someone experiencing Björk’s intimate, overlooked Vespertine (2001) in an environment where the temperature is above the freezing point is as foreign to me as a wall full of hieroglyphics. The aural equivalent of exploring the depths of an ice cave, Vespertine’s chilling textures and wondrous atmosphere are complemented only by the kind of micro-quantized, cut-and-click drum programming found here and Björk’s breathy, animated vocal. And the ghostly choir that blankets the mix like a thin layer of frost is my favorite touch. I don’t listen to much Björk these days – though truthfully, I’d never been more than a casual fan anyway – but this record still gets plenty of stereo time when the weather turns frigid.

“Hidden Place” – Björk 5:28 (Vespertine, Elektra 2001)

Boards of Canada In a Beautiful Place Out in the Country Warp 2000

I have a few like-minded friends and fellow music geeks who enjoy the sounds of Scottish duo Boards of Canada any time of year, but for me, their deranged analog synths and oddly pastoral textures sound best in cold weather. Which is odd, because there is an inherent warmth to their music that stands in contrast to the other selections on this list. Both Music Has the Right to Children (1998) and Geogaddi (2002) have become staples of the winter season, but the opener “Kid for Today” on their four-song teaser In a Beautiful Place Out in the Country (2000) is arguably the finest selection from their catalogue, a downtempo dirge with a gritty blanket of pads providing the foundation for a twitchy drum pattern, color-saturated Rhodes keys, and a snippet of an unintelligible voice in the left channel. It reminds me of those dreary February mornings when a suffocating fog slides in from the bay just before sunrise, imbuing the snow-covered farmlands on the outskirts of the city with an air of ominous mystery.

“Kid for Today” – Boards of Canada 6:23 (In a Beautiful Place Out in the Country, Warp 2000)

Broadcast The Noise Made by People Warp 2000

Broadcast is one of those rare collectives who are defined not so much by their music as in the unique way it translates to a recordable medium. I’ve always felt a twinge of guilt at the pleasure I get from listening to The Noise Made by People (2000), because the substance of the record is secondary to the way it’s presented here. It could have been a combination of vintage microphones, ancient tube amps, and withered analog tape or just a nifty Pro Tools plug-in; regardless, I was absolutely floored by the production on this album when I finally got around to picking it up one cold March evening after work. After weeks of focusing on tech-geek minutiae like the amount of springy reverb on the drums and the barely-detectable wow and flutter on certain tracks, I began to notice the quality of the songs themselves, which by then was icing on the cake. I’ve lost touch with the band over the past few years, but on those chilly winter evenings when I play this record, I always make a mental note to see what they’ve been up to lately.

“Echo’s Answer” – Broadcast 3:12 (The Noise Made by People, Warp 200)

Cannibal Ox The Cold Vein Def Jux 2001

For reasons unknown to me, I all but ignored Cannibal Ox’s debut when it was released in the summer of ‘01, eventually picking it up some six or seven months later after the New Year. In hindsight, I’m glad I waited. El-P’s harsh electronic soundscapes would have completely turned me off on a muggy afternoon in August. I never went as batshit-crazy about The Cold Vein (2001) as most of the backpacking individuals I know, but I do remember listening to the record every morning during the week of a particularly brutal snowstorm that hovered over the city. The salt-stained pavement and brown clumps of dirty ice that remained in its aftermath perfectly coincided with my absorption of the futuristic and nightmarish sonic claustrophobia found on the album.

“Straight Off the D.I.C.” – Cannibal Ox 4:17 (The Cold Vein, Def Jux 2001)

Cocteau Twins Milk & Kisses Capitol 1996

Even the most devout fan (read: yours truly) would admit that the swan song from Scotland’s Cocteau Twins was far from their finest hour, but Milk & Kisses (1996) is one of the first records I reach for when the snowflakes begin their gradual covering of the earth. My infatuation with this band has always been slightly detrimental to my well-being and bordering on a frightening obsession, but even I’ll concede that the album has ‘contract-fulfillment’ written all over its surface. Yet underneath the glittering, borderline New-Age production and fluffy tufts of reverb on everything lies one of the loveliest records in the trio’s discography, a breakthrough of sunlight after the dreary and introspective (but no less exhilarating) Four-Calendar Café (1993) and a fine way to end their career. Given Milk & Kisses‘ somewhat brighter nature, it would probably make more sense to play it during, say, the warmer conditions of late spring, but I prefer to use it as my own personal thermal blanket when the temperature outside is nearing the teens.

“Serpentskirt” – Cocteau Twins 3:57 (Milk & Kisses, Capitol 1996)

Herbie Hancock Sextant Columbia 1973

There really isn’t anything ‘cold’ about Herbie Hancock’s phenomenal, “transitional” full-length Sextant (1973), but during the winter of 2000 I was playing bass in a local free-funk collective (did I just type that?) that used to cover “Hidden Shadows,” so I had pretty much committed the entire record to memory by the time spring rolled in. I could digress upon the brilliance of this album and its influence on modern electronic music to the point where Hancock’s best-selling follow-up Head Hunters (1974) would seem like a massive aberration in the trajectory of his career, but I’ll sum up with this: if you don’t already have it, just buy this record; forget my recommendation of the best time of year to enjoy it. Set aside forty minutes of your evening when your head is clear and any interruptions will be kept to a minimum, cue up Sextant with your favorite perception-altering substance of choice, and simply let its magic envelop you. You won’t regret it, I promise, and that’s as real as real talk gets from this site.

“Rain Dance” – Herbie Hancock 9:19 (Sextant, Columbia 1973)

Juno Reactor Bible of Dreams Wax Trax! 1997

As a morning riser who is unable to sleep in past 7:00 AM these days, I still find it hard to fathom that back when I was nineteen I was a veracious night owl. At the time I was working the front desk evening shift at a Sheraton in town, a 3:00 to 11:00 PM slot that slowly began to shift the internal mechanics of my mental clock. Within a few weeks of starting the gig I was hitting the pillow before sunrise and waking in the early afternoon, with just enough time for a shower and “breakfast” before my shift started. I can’t recall with any sort of clarity what my post-shift late-night activities consisted of then, but I do know that Juno Reactor’s Bible of Dreams (1997) was involved, most likely serving as the soundtrack to aimless drives around the freezing city at 3:00 AM. I can’t help but wince at most of the record now, as Bible of Dreams doesn’t exactly hide its age well – tracks like “Komit” and “Children of the Night” seem destined for a mid-’90s film involving computer hackers and technological conspiracies – but Juno Reactor was some slick, futuristic shit ten years ago, and I’ll crack open its case every few years or so and fondly remember those mysterious, solitary hours of the morning that dominated my waking existence.

“Shark” – Juno Reactor 9:37 (Bible of Dreams, Wax Trax! 1997)

Laika Sounds of the Satellites Too Pure 1997

The cavernous atmosphere and moonlit shadows of Laika’s Sounds of the Satellites (1997) practically scream ‘nocturnal listening environment.’ When combined with a cloudless, starry sky during the wee hours of a January morning, its emotional impact increases drastically. This band never really received their due during their six-year existence in the latter half of the ’90s, a beacon of ingenuity amid an electronic sea of flavorless IDM and trip-hop knock-offs. The dry but spacious mix on Sounds of the Satellites is decorated with skittering percussion tracks, Margaret Fiedler’s sensuous exhalations, and a cold, secluded Moog synthesizer who makes a welcome appearance on nearly every track. I’ve seen this disc for a few bucks in various used bins around town and really is worth a listen or three; time has certainly been easier on it than Sneaker Pimps or early Hooverphonic.

“Spooky Rhodes” – Laika 6:17 (Sounds of the Satellites, Too Pure 1997)