The 40 Best Albums of 2007
40 - 31
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30 - 21
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20 - 11
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10 - 2
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NUMBER 1 |
Icky Thump
After more than ten years as romantic and/or musical partners, Jack and Meg White behave like anything but an old married couple on their frisky sixth album. With the title track's brash synth/guitar squeal, the mariachi wig-out "Conquest," and the 280-Z prison-break "Bone Broke," they convulse in a rhythmic flourish like first-drink soulmates whose chemistry is so dead-on it's almost comical. And on "Rag and Bone," Jack nails the band's gleeful, junk-shop aesthetic, purring: "If ya ain't gonna use it, just give it to us / We'll give it a home." C.A.
Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
The loosest, funkiest album yet from a band that once wrote a song about a fitted shirt, Ga⁵ proved that Britt Daniel is capable of more than killer blue-eyed soul grooves and enigmatic descriptions of household objects -- check out the ambient dub-blues of "The Ghost of You Lingers" or the brass-blast pop of "The Underdog." Of course, it's also got killer blue-eyed soul grooves and enigmatic descriptions of household objects, the finest of which, "My Little Japanese Cigarette Case," is just as elegant as the item it extols. M.W.
American Gangster
To demand that we sit still for a classic album experience in 2007 (no Gangster songs are available on iTunes) is the height of hubris. But Jay-Z's lushly crafted tenth album -- inspired by the dubious, dealer glorifying biopic -- justifies its 58-plus minutes with an intricate mix of ghettonomics morality tales, yayo mise-en-scène, and ego twinkle. It's rare to hear a sword-sharp superstar -- Sinatra circa In the Wee Small Hours? -- throw himself into a project like he's got everything to prove. Jay needed this one more than we did, but we're grateful nonetheless. C.A.
Back to Black
Try, somehow, to put tabloid blinders on and ignore the depressing, druggy mess that Winehouse has become. Instead, focus on what made this singer worth our time in the first place: heart-shredding breakup laments, the filthiest mouth in R&B, and a slurry swing that her North London roots and Jewish genes don't quite explain. With coproducer Mark Ronson and backup band the Daptones providing impeccably modern Motown-via- Brooklyn horns and strings, Back to Black was the rare case where critical and commercial success dovetailed into a perfect pop moment. M.E.
In Rainbows
Praise the new distribution paradigm all you like, but save some enthusiasm for Radiohead's most emotionally resonant songs in a decade: "All I Need" and "House of Cards" embrace the claustrophobic loneliness of modern life rather than railing against it, and "15 Step" lends more palatable tones to the band's penchant for experimental click-clacks. Though it still possesses the contrarian impulse of the Amnesiac years, In Rainbows offers a tremendous exhale after four albums of knotty sonic exploration. It's the calm after the storm, a perfect time for licking wounds. J.M.
Kala
Maya Arulpragasam intended to make her second album with Timbaland, but was forced to improvise when visa issues left her unable to enter the United States. That the record she created (mostly) on her own is far weirder and more ambitious than what Tim probably would've cooked up is as clear a measure of M.I.A.'s ingenuity as her future-shock fashion sense. A true world-music experiment, Kala throbs with beats and melodies and textures inspired by this former refugee's journey around the planet. If globalization is inevitable, can this at least be the soundtrack? M.W.
Graduation
The guy's ego needs no further bloating, but we can't help it: Was there a more entertaining and creative hip-hop act in 2007? In a year when many blue-chip rappers stumbled (50 Cent, T.I., et al.), Mr. West returned with an album every bit as ambitious as his previous two. He's a maximalist, pouring endless hooks ("Good Life"), stadium-rocking samples ("Stronger"), and dizzying trains of thought into each track. Whenever the rampant narcissism and materialism threaten to overwhelm the music, he spits a line like "I'm like the fly Malcolm X / Buy any jeans necessary." M.E.
Sound of Silver
On LCD Soundsystem's self-titled 2005 debut, James Murphy proved he was disco punk's reigning master of nod-and-wink Moog curlicues and cowbell ruckus. With this follow-up, however, the Brooklyn party-starter stakes out more ambitious territory. Sure, he's still a snarky imp -- "North American Scum" hides its patriotism inside biting sarcasm -- but the existential new wave of "All My Friends" and the singsong elegy of "Someone Great" are more than just stupendous white-boy funk; they're touching. M.E.
Neon Bible
On 2004's Funeral, Win Butler and his appealingly ragtag cohorts in Arcade Fire made the loss of several family members sound like the end of the world. For Neon Bible, the Canadian band's sophomore full-length, Butler turned things inside out, worrying over God and war in lushly appointed chamber-pop epics that make the end of the world resonate like a close-to-home calamity. That's not to suggest that Neon Bible, most of which was recorded in a converted church outside Montreal, forgoes the wide-angle grandeur that first endeared the band to the drama queens of Blogland. (For proof of Butler's theatrical streak, proceed directly to the organ-enriched "Intervention," which ought to earn a cease-and-desist from Andrew Lloyd Webber -- or Ian McCulloch -- any day now.) But in a year clogged with empty indie scene bombast signifying little but the increasing affordability of high-end recording gear, Arcade Fire made their histrionics say something. Something scary and terrible and uplifting, all at once. M.W.
40 - 31
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30 - 21
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20 - 11
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10 - 2
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NUMBER 1 |
