10. Gnarls Barkley – St. Elsewhere
Back when the album was released in the spring, nobody had any idea how to classify St. Elsewhere. Was it rap, since it featured former Goodie Mob standout Cee-Lo Green and renowned producer Danger Mouse? Was it straightforward pop, since “Crazy” ended up sandwiched between Panic! At the Disco and Nelly Furtado on Clear Channel-approved music stations across the country? Was it gospel, because of the church-like quality of most of its tracks? The year’s over and still nobody knows just where to file Gnarls Barkley.
Maybe that’s for the best. St. Elsewhere was the most unique album of 2006 — a hodgepodge of rap, schizophrenia and the Violent Femmes. Danger Mouse continued his string of behind-the-scenes successes, creating some of his best and brightest beats for this album. But Cee-Lo’s soulful voice really stitches St. Elsewhere together, from his booming church sing-alongs “Crazy” and “Smiley Faces,” to the spastic glitched-out crooning on standout “Transformer.” No music has sounded remotely similar to St. Elsewhere since came out, and for good reason. Cee-Lo and Dangermouse created one of the freshest and future-thinking albums of the year, and time will tell if anyone tries to top it.
Are mash-ups art? When the results are as danceable and enjoyable as Girl Talk’s (aka Gregg Gillis) Night Ripper, the most fun album of 2006, who cares? On one level, this cut-up features some of the most booty-shaking tracks you’ll ever hear, thanks to sweet Coldstone-like combinations, like the mix of M.I.A.’s “Galang” with Amerie’s “One Thing.” A level deeper, Night Ripper is an indie music “Scene It!,” begging hipsters to guess which tune precedes the Juelz Santana sample (correct answer: Neutral Milk Hotel). Even deeper, Girl Talk’s latest is the funniest record of the year. I haven’t laughed that hard since hearing the Ying-Yang Twins singing about “beatin’ that pussy up” over those sugary strings from The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony.”
But maybe the best reason Night Ripper should make this list, and the reason the mash-up art argument should come to an end, is because Girl Talk somehow made 2005’s biggest musical abortion “My Humps” sound good — using Kansas’ “Wayward Son.” That, folks, is talent.
8. TV on the Radio – Return to Cookie Mountain
From the eerie horn sample near the beginning of “I Was a Lover” to the static-sounds rounding out album closer “Wash the Day,” Return to Cookie Mountain validated all the hype and hope hurled at the Brooklyn five-piece ever since 2003’s Young Liars EP. TV On the Radio shook off all the “work in progress” tags placed on them after 2004’s so-so Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes thanks to the dark tunes on their latest outing.
There is rarely a sun to stare at on Cookie Mountain, as a layer of fog and shadow veil most of the album’s 11 main tracks. Loud, unnerving drums pound behind “Playhouses,” while the somber vocals of “A Method” create a downtrodden atmosphere. The moments of joy are far and few between on Cookie Mountain, but when they appear, they end up stealing the show. Check the David Bowie-backed “Province” with its sunshiny melody and lines like “Love is the province of the brave.” The song, like the rest of the album, sounds like a triumph.
7. Band of Horses – Everything All the Time
American League Rookie of the Year Justin Verlander and (my) musical rookies of the year Band of Horses have something in common. Neither blew away the competition, nor did they revolutionize what they did, but both just did what they do better than everyone else. Verlander ended up pitching for a team that helped make the 2006 World Series the least interesting Fall Classic since the time it didn’t happen, while Everything All the Time still sounded better than most releases come October.
Band of Horses’ sound isn’t new, but it’s great nonetheless. Sounding like a pre-Z My Morning Jacket, but with a Sub Pop edge, Everything All the Time rocks out brilliantly over its 10 songs, bobbing its head on opener (and the best Christmas song of the year) “The First Song” and pumping its fists on bar room blarer “The Great Salt Lake.” But Band of Horses finest is the somber “Funeral,” a riveting four-minute song where lead singer Ben Bridwell tells us that “every occasion I will be ready for the funeral.” Pretty heavy thoughts from a green group. But Band of Horses makes it work, and do it magnificently.
Dancepunk is dead. Liars figured that one out pretty quickly after their seminal 2002 debut They Threw Us All In A Trench and Stuck A Monument On Top, so the Australian trio ditched the dance-friendly formula for a more abstract sound. This almost put Liars six feet under: critics panned the noise-rock of 2004’s They Were Wrong, So We Drowned. The group, looking for an artistic change, fled to Berlin, where, after ditching an entire album’s worth of material, Liars created Drum’s Not Dead, the group’s best effort to date and one of 2006’s most stunning works.
The group turned to the most basic elements of human nature and embraced Lord of the Fliestribalism. Pounding drums anchor every song on Drum’s Not Dead, from the military reverberations of opener “Be Quiet, Mt. Heart Attack!” to the sacrificial drums of “It Fit When I Was a Kid.” When the percussion is at its best, like on the terrifying bury-a-corpse tutorial “Drum and the Uncomfortable Can,” Drum’s Not Dead is a swirling nightmare of chanting and noise. But Liars balance it all together in the end with “The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack,” their sweetest, simplest and finest tune ever, and a sign that the trio’s artistic transformation is complete.
It’s official: 2006 was the year drug rap came into its own. Rhyming about pushing drugs on the street became the dominant theme of the rap game, and the major players of the year waxed nostalgic about the trapper scene. Ghostface Killa’s Fishscale explored the many corners of the crack game via abnormal beats and frantic flows, while Young Jeezy used trappin’ as a soapbox to motivate hustlers on his aptly-titled sophomore effort The Inspiration. And don’t forget T.I. rode the drug game to the top of the rap world this year. So, if Jeezy is Tony Robbins and T.I. is Stephen King, duo Clipse must be the trapper version of Joseph Conrad, with Hell Hath No Fury the crack game’s very own Heart of Darkness.
After several years of label disputes that prolonged its release, Hell Hath No Fury finally saw the light of day in 2006, and promptly became hailed as the best rap album of the year. On first listen, the beats stand out, catchy but creepy all at once. The Neptunes have created their best body of work since, well, Clipse’s last album, highlighted by the unsettling Middle-East-meets-Carribean vibe of “Wamp Wamp (How We Do)” and the horror movie beat of “Ride Around Shining.” But Malice and Pusha T steal the show with their angry, snarling rhymes. Clipse don’t just sing about what it’s like to sell drugs. Rather, they detail how dark and terrifying the drug business is, and try to tell the listener why the hell anyone would get involved in this scene. They imitate fireworks/gunshots on “Chinese New Year,” which somehow sounds more unsettling than real bullets.
If 2004’s Madvillainy was the definitive guide to underground rap, and if last year’s Late Registration was rap’s Sistine Chapel of production, then Hell Hath No Fury is the best rap album about drug dealing ever: A look into the psyche of the trapper, and an overall excellent record from one of the fiercest and finest duos in rap today.
4. Herbert – Scale
Matthew Herbert has always been the sophisticated house music fan’s choice, as his music is perfect for moving your body to and also for just chilling out. Since he conquered the dance realm long ago, Herbert set his sights on the traditional song in Scale — a glorious product, and one of the best pop albums of the year.
Herbert has always been renowned for using non-traditional sound sources (such as kitchen appliances or laser eye surgery equipment) in his pieces, and Scale is no different. He used everything from a box of Apple Jacks to soap to trains to a freakin’ hot air balloon to construct theses songs. But strings and horns end up being the best addition to Herbert’s arsenal. The orchestration elevates the voice of longtime contributor Dani Siciliano to joyous heights and sinks them to emotional lows when necessary. From the disco-tinged “Moving Like A Train,” to the breathless “Birds of a Feather,” to the gorgeous, frequently-shifting “Harmonise,” it’s clear this is Matthew Herbert’s world, and we are just his pop-loving people.
Joanna Newsom is the high-stakes briefcase in the Deal or No Dealworld that is indie music. Most people would play it safe, walk away with what they got and feel fine with their latest Flaming Lips or Futureheads album. The more adventurous, those willing to flip open the case, would be greeted with one of the greatest prizes of all: Newsom’s epic and finely crafted Ys.
Hell, it feels wrong to call this music when shit like “When You Were Young” and “Chain Hang Low” passes as music today. No, Ys is poetry, the best collection of poetry you’ll hear all year. Legendary composer Van Dyke Parks (best known for his triumphant work on Brian Wilson’s Smile) creates orchestrates a beautiful backdrop which allows Newsom’s lyrics to soar. Over the course of the album’s five tracks, clocking in at an impressive 55 minutes, Newsom crafts intimate stories about meteorites, monkeys and missed loves. She says every song is based on a person or event in her life, but the truth to each tune is buried under miles of magnificent metaphors and swelling strings.
When talking about films widely regarded as “terrible,” many of my friends tell me they can actually be quite enjoyable, “as long as you go in expecting dumb fun.” Why should we have to stupefy ourselves to enjoy art? Why can’t art challenge us? Some will listen to Ys, be scared off, and pop in My Chemical Romance or Jack Johnson and feel quite content. But those willing to step up and think on the level of Newsom will discover a gorgeous realm where beauty exists in a system of strings and one wobbling voice rising above them.
2. Junior Boys – So This Is Goodbye
How could Canadian electro-pop duo Junior Boys improve on the smooth bedroom-sized sounds of 2004’s Last Exit? Simple: Tear down the bedroom walls and let their synths glisten freely over grander landscapes. So This Is Goodbye sees the Boys bidding adieu to the tightly-packed pop songs of their last album for longer, more developed electronic adventures. Every song is given time to shine (except for single-of-2006 “In The Morning,” a finely crafted song that can’t decide whether it wants to be simple electro-pop or a club banger) and stretch its legs, allowing for the full sonic capabilities of each number to come out.
But, as the title hints, So This Is Goodbye isn’t just 48 minutes for the Junior Boys to show off their new found patience. This is a break-up album, and one of the best bedside tearjerkers of the 00’s. The attention given to allowing these songs to bloom means every synth, beat and verse sting with a little more disappointment and regret. The neon-lit “The Equalizer” is riddled with a sense of can’t-let-go-ness, while “Count Souvenirs” slowly builds up to a point of utter explosion, only to descend back into bleak synth lines. Even the cover of Frank Sinatra’s “When No One Cares” shines, relocating the tune to an empty house from The Jetsons while still capturing the drunken nostalgia of the original. For an album that relies so heavily on such unnatural noise, So This Is Goodbye captured the sorrow of saying sayanara to those you love, and made heartbreak just a little easier to deal with in 2006.
1. The Hold Steady – Boys and Girls in America
“Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together.” About 50 years ago, Jack Kerouac penned this sentence in his transformative novel On the Road, a piece chronicling the joys and sins of the young “beat” generation. Half-a-century later, Kerouac’s mission of discovering the inner workings of America’s youth got updated for Generation Y through Boys and Girls in America, Minneapolis five-piece The Hold Steady’s third and finest album.
Vocalist Craig Finn and company already have proven they can spool a good story. On their debut LP …Almost Killed Me, the group scoured barrooms and parties across the United States for stories of getting boozed and bruised, while last year’s Separation Sunday followed one girl’s religious odyssey through the streets of Minneapolis and her dealings with the hood rats, hobos and hustlers there. On Boys and Girls, The Hold Steady explore high school proms, Midwestern streets and, yes, watering holes across the Land of the Free to get an accurate picture of today’s youth. Backed by incredibly catchy hooks, Finn’s stream-of-conscious lyrics capture the psyche of an entire young culture, and touch on how confusing and depressing being young today can be.
The characters occupying Boys and Girls 11 songs are lost and confused, seeking refuge through booze, drugs and aimless relationships. The protagonist in “Party Pit,” simply wants to “walk around and drink some more,” no goal in sight. Others get bored and just eat as many mushrooms as they can, as on the teenage escape fantasy “Chillout Tent.” Song by song, Craig Finn shows an America where the youth are totally lost, and looking in all the wrong places for something to trust. It would all make for great theater, if it weren’t for how true it is: One trip down Ridge on a Friday night quickly proves The Hold Steady paint the perfect picture of youth today.
Joanna Newsome’s Ys and Junior Boys So This Is Goodbye, the two albums that came close to knocking off The Hold Steady, are beautiful, but don’t sum up the year. Boys and Girls in America is distinctly 2006. In a year when the kids of the United States made Nelly Furtado’s “Promiscuous” the hottest song of the year and Justin Timberlake’s lusty FutureSex/LoveSoundsone of the most noteworthy albums, Craig Finn and his band tried to tell us why teens across the country flocked to these songs. The Hold Steady nail down what it means to be a young person in America today: buzzed and heartbroken, clinging to memories of massive nights, and trying to find some meaning to a world populated by junkies, dealers and swindlers.