By Elliot Boswell
1. Radiohead/ In Rainbows - Just the ultimate coup. In addition to the fuss about the album's release (more on that shortly), the music has evolved again. These Oxonians have traded the cathartic squalls of the past for gently fingerpicked patterns and gorgeous, unorthodox melodies; in short, it sounds a bit like a swan song (but I didn't say it). And Thom Yorke sings, "I don't wanna be your friend, I just wanna be your lover?" I never thought I'd see the day. When the biggest and best band in the world turns its back on labels (and not just major ones), you get the feeling it may have been a watershed for the music industry. I'm glad I was here to witness it. Begin your Beatles comparisons.
2. Spoon/ Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga - Spoon's music has always been as much about the space between the notes as the notes themselves, and, using this template, indie rock's favorite Texans finally put together a top-to-bottom masterpiece. Expanding on their trademark minimalist, rhythm-heavy construction, they are one of the few current bands to be carving out a distinct (and, I think, soon-to-be imitated) sound. Britt Daniel vents his cocksure snarl over shots of staccato guitar, spitting out lines like, "She'd never been to Texas, never heard of King Kong/And it'd been so long since I'd been suitably high." Ouch.
3. The National/ Boxer - "Boxer" was my first exposure to the Cincinnati quintet, and I'm sorry it came this late. A remarkably focused album that's been compared to Springsteen, but I hear more of a less-bleak Joy Division, both musically and in Matt Berninger's morose baritone. But it's also a rhythm-centric album, and drummer Bryan Devendorf has the floor from his polyrhythmic intro in the opening track on: When he seems to threaten to disrupt a song, he invariably jars it to life. And when a piece of songwriting genius like "Mistaken For Strangers" - "You get mistaken for strangers by your own friends/ When you pass them at night under the silvery, silvery CitiBank light" -comes along, it's hard to deny it.
4. Animal Collective/ Strawberry Jam - On one hand, I want them to take themselves more seriously, but on the other, I'm glad they're not ponderous (Conor Oberst - in the (very) off chance you read this publication, please note). The group thrives while teetering on the edge of chaos. It seems like they take every tangent and run with it: Most of the time, they're skilled enough musicians to make it work, and when it doesn't, they're charming enough that you don't notice. So whimsical I struggle to see how it has gotten popular with the hipster set, but maybe that's just part of the plan.
5. The Arcade Fire/ Neon Bible - Speaking of ponderous ... Win Butler has also garnered some laudatory Springsteen comparisons recently, and it's even clearer to see why on his group's sophomore effort: unquenchable romanticism and need for flight, and an overriding earnestness that makes you believe the desperation of the music. Not as epic or nearly as lyrical as the Boss, but the quasi-gothic arrangements here lend weight to the tales of Orwellian menace ("Keep the Car Running") and existential yearning (the aptly titled "My Body is a Cage.") Not as seamless as their debut, but the collective brilliance of the group is more than on show here. Still wish they'd loosen up a bit though.
Honorable Mention
Kanye West/ Graduation - Shops so much he can speak Italian, but at least he feels guilty about it. And he samples Can?
Bust of the Year
Paul McCartney/ Memory Almost Full - Why, after a 50-year songwriting career, is Sir Paul still producing lines like, "Everybody gonna dance tonight/Everybody gonna feel alright?" Really? No wounded, post-divorce "Blood on the Tracks" is this; it's not even a simply happy "Nashville Skyline." Cloying, often to the point of maudlin, commercial. Blagh.
