2007 Albums: 1-5

5. Radiohead - In Rainbows

The first few seconds of this album, just after I'd finally been able to buy it from the bogged-down In Rainbow website, formed a pit in my stomach. Computery, refracted beats, sparseness, ghostly Yorke voice. Nobody really knew what this album would sound like, and it came out of nowhere, but I think a lot of us didn't want it to sound like that.

Then that gently sliding guitar, a warm, almost cozy sound. It was enveloping. "15 Step" may be one of my least favorite tracks on the album--it's not really even a song--but that single riff went a long way for me in establishing the mood. The emotions on the record are real again, instead of antiseptic and hospitalized.

I was a huge OK Computer fan, and never got into one of their later albums the same way. But moments of songs from In Rainbows have lodged in my brain and authored entire afternoons of feeling. Can this be an experience I'm actually having? Listening to Radiohead this late in their career? There are some downright heartfelt emotions here. It's a serious pleasure being allowed to hear a band as good as they are just sit down without too much cerebral overshadow, and create transcendent songs and play them.

4. Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam

Was Animal Collective seriously on Conan O'Brien? National television?

As much of a mystery as Animal Collective is, this year provided some glimpse into their music-making process with the solo releases of Avey Tare and Panda Bear, their two lead singers. After Person Pitch came out, we were all astounded, and thought that maybe Panda Bear really was the genius in AC. Avey Tare's solo album with wife was fine, but nowhere near as astounding as Panda Bear's. But then out came Strawberry Jam, and Avery Tare is all over it. His vocals are the most compelling part and carry the album, not to mention anchor "For Reverend Green," the albums centerpiece.

"For Reverend Green. " Enough said. Just keep listening to that song over and over, until it becomes a spiritual experience. When I saw them play it live at South St. Seaport with the sun setting and the Brooklyn Bridge behind them, it did for me. But seriously, that song is ridiculous. It established why Avey Tare is such a talented vocalist, for one, (or at the very least totally original) because he makes that song work and no one else could ever sing it. Panda Bear somehow comes through with more astonishing tracks: I love "Derek," the lost Person Pitch song, a song which codified the feelings I had toward my childhood golden retriever, and her death two years ago. #1, the song they played on Conan, demonstrates well why AC needs both singers: the airy Panda Bear background as a setting for the rough-edged snap of Avey Tare. I think this is their best behind Sung Tongs, which will always astound and inspire me because it was the first thing I heard and when I realized music could do things I'd never realized.

3. Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

For some reason, I was diligently checking almost every morning for this album to leak, moreso than anything else this year. I became a man obsessed. I joined a Spoon forum and got message board updates in my email inbox. I tried desperately to score an account with Oink. I read commentaries when the cover leaked, people finding out where the photograph comes from and what it might mean about the music therein. I remember vividly the day that one track, “Ghost of You Lingers” leaked, and I put on headphones at 4pm in the office, and listened to it with my eyes closed. I kept waiting for the band to join in with the persistent, horror-film piano and Britt’s ghostly falsetto--and then, suddenly, the song was over. I was suddenly very, very nervous about the new Spoon album.

I was even more nervous when I did hear it, and the first song, “Don’t Make Me a Target,” came on. It’s kind of a weird song, the tempo seems off somehow, and, for lack of a better description, it just kinda sounds like Spoon. But like all of their albums, the more you abuse it, the better it becomes. Which is of course what happened with this one.

I literally get butterflies listening to songs on this album. As soon as a track starts, I want it to play faster, quickly, all at once because I’m too impatient for the good parts to get here already. I want to hear all the little studio tricks, all the accumulated moments that make a Spoon album as rewarding the 39th time you listen to it as the first, more so.


2. Jens Lekman - Nights Over Kortedela

Jens, how is this accomplished? How do you consistently write songs this perfectly pitched between joy and sadness, make them totally singable, and throw in lines any other singer would sound like a bafoon uttering? How can a song contain all these emotions and, through the virtue of their absolute and perfect balance, never feel weighed down?

Elin and I saw Jens this year and it was, quite surprisingly, among the best shows I've ever seen. I didn't think the songs would really benefit all that much from a live setting, and Jens wouldn't have his studio to tinker in. But he was friendly, infectiously humble, and basically just played and played and told stories that were as goofy as they were profound. I also got to hear the full story of "Postcards to Nina." This wasn't a high-energy affair, no one was sweating and having palpitations, but the crowd called him out for a triple encore before the venue made him get off the stage. He then told the crowd that he'd be out in a minute and he hoped that we could all keep singing and playing somewhere else. I didn't wait around--I wanted to leave with the warm feeling intact--but somehow it was such an authentic gesture, and not hippyish like it sounds.

And then there's the production, a wonder of samples and subtlety. The bizarrely perfect use of beats, which are as well-constructed and labored over as on a hip-hop album.

I debated with myself for awhile about whether this belonged in front of or behind the following album. They're just so different. Ah, I'm still not sure.

1. Panda Bear - Person Pitch

I heard "Bros" last year and forced Nick and Austin to listen to it when we played our top five songs of 2006 for each other. I think it came after Austin played some fast, beat-heavy song that he used to work out to. Then I put on "Bros," that starts with an owl hoot and needless to say, we didn't make it through all 12 minutes of it.

I think I know what the problem was--you're supposed to listen to Panda Bear alone. Yes, it's a headphones album, so that contributes. But all my feelings about this album are tied to very private experiences. "Bros" reminds me of snow falling, which is probably because the first time I heard it, I was walking around some Brooklyn brownstones at night and snow was falling softly all over the city, Joyce-style. It was one of the most beautiful and profound moments I've ever had in New York City. I felt utterly alone and utterly connected to the universe, etc., etc.. Another time I was alone one night and put "Ponytail" on repeat and fell asleep to it, and had dreams that were dreams I needed to have, and I woke up with a better understanding of myself. Last month, I woke up in the middle of the night having a bizarre panic attack while traveling, and feeling very, very confusedly unsettled. Nothing would put my mind to rest but "Search for Delicious."

I don't know why this is, why Panda Bear and Animal Collective in general are able to create these musical moments. Perhaps they just give us an abstract musical space to project our own fears, thoughts, dreams. But they really are artists, and this is really meaningful music.