While those whose impact on local music is far greater than mine get
only a few lines to list their top albums of the year (See Music,
pg. 17), I have the advantage of writing in long form about the
musical bounties of 2007. And while it seems to be standard procedure
for some critics to insult the overall quality of music for each
passing year, I won’t bite—the previous 12 months unveiled
unquantifiable amounts of excellent music, on both local and national
stages.
1. Menomena—Friend and Foe
This year, there wasn’t a record on the planet that I listened to
more than Friend and Foe, and judging by the response of
Portland’s local music community and Cary Clarke in his column (see Our
Town Could Be Your Life, pg. 23), I’m not alone. Local music isn’t
supposed to sound like this. Hell, no genre of music is supposed
to sound like this. Menomena exist in a world entirely their own,
familiar enough to relate to, but utterly challenging and unique in
every way possible. Friend and Foe is a grand declaration of
skewed pop music (the just-as-catchy-as-the-first-time-you-heard-it
single “Wet and Rusting”), wildly inventive sounds (the sullen and
introspective “My My”), and wonderfully surprising shifts in musical
direction (the ghostly a capella vocals that appear out of nowhere
during the album’s final track, “West”). The saddest thing to admit is
that this local trio is seriously in over their heads—mounting
any sort of follow-up to a record as dead-on perfect as Friend and
Foe will be a monumental task. But hey, no pressure or
anything.
2. Bat for Lashes—Fur and Gold
Much like the record above it, Fur and Gold shuns all musical
reference points. It’s just a vivacious and dream-like debut from
British—via Pakistan—singer Natasha Khan. Free form in
nature, the record beats like a lovestruck
heart that swoons in
double-time, only to slow to a calculating thump—thanks to Khan’s
intimidating percussion staff (not “staff” as in personnel,
but as
in a big ‘ole stick she wields and bangs
on the
floor)—during the album’s chilling
introspective
moments.
3. Jens Lekman—Night Falls over
Kortedala
The charismatic Swede, Jens Lekman, croons with classic flair,
punctuates his songs with sample-heavy, grandiose arrangements, and has
a voice so warm and soothing that it can melt the polar ice caps and
flood the fjords of his native land. While the sweeping orchestration
of Night Falls can be a bit indulgent, Lekman is painfully
modest—if not self-deprecating—in his lyrics, and his
arrangements are like a modern day Phil Spector, sans all that cocktail
waitress-shooting, egomaniacal stuff.
4. Brother Ali—The Undisputed
Truth
Full-length record number three for this outspoken Midwest emcee is
a chest-thumping emotional call to arms from a man who has done a lot
of hard living in his 30 years on this planet. But when Ali isn’t
effortlessly dropping his hook-laden rhymes, he is tightening up his
lyrics, especially the politically scorching “Uncle Sam Goddamn,” which
declares, “Shit the government’s the addict/with a billion dollar a
week kill-brown-people habit.”
5. Betty Davis—Betty Davis (1973
reissue)
Thankfully reissued by Seattle indie label Light in the Attic,
Davis’ flamboyant blasts of amplified feminist rock and funk were
always overshadowed by her more famous, and influential, ex-husband
(Miles Davis). There were two releases that saw the light of day this
year, her revolutionary self-titled debut (from 1973), and 1974’s
scorching They Say I’m Different, both of which are
absolutely essential.