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)