Thousands of discs were released this year, but only 20 could make the final cut. With the most scientific of instruments (headphones, and sometimes CD players) we whittled down this year’s releases, and for the past three Thursdays, we’ve delivered five of our faves. Let us know what we missed, and what you loved.
Britney Spears, Blackout (JIVE)
The weirdest chapter in Britney Spears‘ incredibly weird year was that amid the rehab(s), the head-shaving, the VMAs bombing, the pole-dancing video that made Lindsay Lohan‘s I Know Who Killed Me look like actual art, the paparazzi run-ins, the child endangerment and the actual blackouts, Britney was able to turn out the album of her career. The 12-song Blackout isn’t art, per se, but it reflects what pop music in 2007 is so well that you wouldn’t be faulted for mistaking it as such. How much does its achievement have to do with Brit? Who knows. It could be that she sleepwalked through the making of it, showing up at the studio inebriated and letting producers like Danja, Bloodshy & Avant and the Neptunes do their progressive thing while she essentially rubber-stamped the stomping dance tracks with her notoriously unremarkable larynx. But it matters not: if on Blackout, she’s just the puppet she’s always been accused of being, she’s puppeting remarkably well. In the end, it’s reasonable to assume that she had a hand in selecting what made Blackout‘s final cut, and if that’s the case, she made up for a year of bad decisions with 12 fabulous ones.
Spoon, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga (MERGE)
With a title so dadaist, it’s ironic that Spoon’s sixth album is their most clear. But maybe it isn’t so ironic: the album’s title is taken from the onomatopoetic piano line that courses through the album’s second track “The Ghost of You Lingers.” Rather than sail over the heads of their fans with the prickly, oblique lyrics frontman Britt Daniel has become famous for, the band seems to have gotten down to the bedrock elements of music – sounds and feelings. Examples of the band’s movement toward sincerity riddle the record: Daniel tells his own genesis story on “Finer Feelings,” empathizes with the long shot on “The Underdog,” and even allows listeners behind the curtain on “Don’t You Evah,” which begins with a studio joke between band members. The band get deeper into their influences, following in the foot steps of their punk-pop forefathers the Clash and experimenting on the down-beat reggae ode to a femme fatale “Eddie’s Ragga.” “You Got Yr Cherry Bomb” recalls Phil Spector’s production, filled with heavy reverb and horns. Breezing by in just 36 minutes, the band prove there’s no genre they can’t deftly maneuver.
Kanye West, Graduation (DEF JAM)
Haughty is as haughty does. Hip-hop’s most reliable MC hasn’t given up on positioning himself as hip-hop’s most successful MC – you know, hitting the club with all that fresh sh*t on and something crazy on his arm. But his bluster (“I always had a passion for flashing”) has oodles of creativity behind it, and it’s been a long time since any mic fiend dropped three home runs in a row. The rhymes may not be as perfect as those on College Dropout or Late Registration, and subject matter may be a tad monolithic, but with the striver-speak of “Good Life” and “Stronger,” the Luis Vuitton don can definitely lay claim to his hat trick.
Feist, The Reminder (INTERSCOPE)
As has been pointed out several times over, Feist once sang “It may be years until the day my dreams will match up with my pay.” It only took about three years. The former punk-screecher turned filth-rap posse member turned Canadian musical collective member has worn many hats during her career, but it turned out Feist’s solo songs would spawn the most success. From the now ubiquitous revival-type feel goodery of “1 2 3 4” (you know…the iPod song), to her vamping “My Moon My Man,” to her update of the Nina Simone’s “Sea Lion Woman,” Feist appears to have assembled the type of self-revelations (“I’ll be the one to break my heart,” “There’s so much present inside my present,” “You’re changing your heart, you know who you are”) that take people thousands of dollars and years in analysis to come to.
Rihanna, Good Girl Gone Bad (DEF JAM)
If Michael Bay or Jerry Bruckheimer were to spend their time writing music as opposed to blowing up tractor trailers in movies, this is the kind of record they’d make — a big-budget splashy blockbuster, all done up in vibrant Technicolor with the audio to match. Rihanna, a Barbados-born teen, had shown earlier promise with infectious hits like “SOS” and “Pon de Replay,” but nothing on the size and scale of Good Girl, which continues to spawn hits long after its release (and that was only last May, if you can believe it). First, of course, there was “Umbrella,” where she stretches the syllables of the word in the chorus to fit the melody — “Umbrella-ella-ella-ay-ay-oh-oh.” Genius. With its non-threatening, vaguely maternal offer of shelter from the rain, Rihanna welcomed fans by the dozen. She quickly followed that up with the Michael Jackson-inflected “Don’t Stop the Music,” the sweet soul of “Hate That I Love You,” the sad strains of “Cry” and the tough stuff of “Shut Up and Drive,” a song so powerfully poppy that they should probably seal it in a jar and bury it in the Nevada weapons-testing zone lest it get out and inspire generations to skip school and head straight for the studio. Who knew it was possible to craft pop so expertly in 2007?