Favourite Music Of 2007: Gold Against The Soul

The third and final instalment of my favourite music of 2007 showcases the releases that I’ve categorised as having “gold” status. These are the singles and albums that provided the definitive soundtrack to my year, the ones that were played in so many different environments and circumstances. Without any of these, my 2007 would have been a very different year.
10 – Mika – Life In Cartoon Motion

I raved about Mika’s debut album almost exactly a year ago. Twelve months later, he’s even more notorious than I anticipated, polarising opinions to an extent that has occasionally surprised me. Elusive, distant, slightly aloof, his hesitant extraordinariness seems out of sync with the times and has got certain people’s backs up.
Much of the criticism seems to focus on precisely the things that I think make him such a brilliant pop artist. How dare he be so musically, lyrically and vocally talented? How dare he make it sound this easy, yet a little like he doesn’t care? How dare he arrive fully-formed, brimming with ideas, assuming complete control over the presentation of his output?
Yes, Mika makes calculating, occasionally annoying, but always supremely executed pop music. “Do I attract you, do I repulse you with my queasy smile?” has to be one of the best opening lines of any album. Big Girl (You Are Beautiful) hasn’t withstood repeated plays, but the likes of Grace Kelly, Love Today and the gorgeous Happy Ending remain sublime.
9 – Xiu Xiu – The Air Force

Would it be fanciful to compare Xiu Xiu and Mika? They certainly seem to draw a similar love-them-or-hate-them response whenever I mention their name or play their music to friends. There’s also quite a comparable sense of insular self-dependency and playing by their own rules. To say more, however, would probably be to over-stretch credibility.
Where Mika’s output has mass appeal, Xiu Xiu’s dark visions and child-like pop fed through a sonic blender are much more of an acquired taste. The Air Force is a fine addition to the Xiu Xiu canon, retaining their characteristic mixture of playfulness and non-specific terror whilst developing a greater subtlety and reach in tracks like Bishop, CA.
With fewer diversions off into meandering, inconsequential instrumentalia (Saint Pedro Glue Stick excepted), The Air Force is now my default Xiu Xiu album, the one I’d recommend all newcomers to start with. It’s the sound of a band’s heart pumping loudly and hopefully a vein in which the forthcoming Women As Lovers will continue.
8 – Cherry Ghost – Thirst For Romance

Sweeping, epic heartbreak pop, Thirst For Romance sounds initially similar to Elbow, if clearer and more focused. It’s fairly conservative, musically speaking, but crammed full of lyrical gems (“I guess you kissed the girls and made them cry, those hard-faced queens of misadventure”) – like Oasis with the laddishness replaced by poetic wonder.
I can’t truly love performers like Amy Winehouse and Michael Bublé Richard Hawley, who pay homage to the past by merely serving it up as lukewarm, re-heated leftovers. Cherry Ghost, on the other hand, hijacks the spirits of all those dead crooners, rounds them up in a field on Saddleworth Moor, bombards them with Smiths records and then channels their pain with a vibrant urgency.
I was very surprised that this album wasn’t more successful. It seemed to be everywhere I turned for a very short period (the TV adverts were startling), but then hasn’t generated much follow-up attention. I’m hoping that this is a temporary blip in a more long-term musical career and that maybe in 2008 Simon Aldred will get the greater recognition he deserves.
7 – Arctic Monkeys – Favourite Worst Nightmare

Favourite Worst Nightmare consolidated Arctic Monkeys’ position as the most consistently thrilling mainstream band in Britain. In 2007 it seemed that, apart from the slightly clumsy titling of opening single Brianstorm, they could do no wrong, though more recently I’ve heard rumblings of dissent about a certain tiredness in their live shows.
This is another flawless set of rock songs, fusing angular new wave with all kinds of surprising retro elements (60s surfabilly in Teddy Picker, for example). It’s the magnificent lyrics that continue to set them apart from their peers; quite apart from the Sheffield connection, it’s these gritty vignettes that make the Monkeys the more than adequate successors to Pulp.
Speaking on a BBC Four programme about pop music the other evening, Phill Jupitus described them in no uncertain terms as “electrifying”. There’s no better word to encapsulate their accomplished mixture of power and energy. The inevitable Difficult Third Album territory approaches and I’ll be absolutely fascinated to see how they decide to tackle it.
6 – Einstürzende Neubauten – Alles Wieder Offen

I’ve never really paid Einstürzende Neubauten that much attention. I was into their Halber Mensch for a while in the mid-80s (I think I lent a copy to my German teacher; he reciprocated with something by Van Der Graaf Generator), but otherwise they kind of passed me by. I had them down as metal-bashing noise merchants and was more into SPK.
I got curious again after my recent visit to Berlin and by chance this album had been released the week previously. I was hooked on my first listen by its stunning, beautifully crafted songs, rich instrumentation, the philosophical scope of its lyrics and the unexpectedly tender strains of Blixa Bargeld’s unique voice (which I had remembered as a rather blasted croak).
Whether railing at the tide in Die Wellen, proposing the beheading of the stars and moon in Weil Weil Weil, examining “the expectorations of my supposed soul” in Von Wegen or contemplating endless, mundane, mythical possibilities in the title track (translated as Everything Open Again), Bargeld sounds like a man energised, staring into the heart of the universe.
5 – Jeffrey Lewis – 12 Crass Songs

To my mind, Crass remains one of the most misunderstood and under-rated British bands of the last thirty years. We should revere their unique, uncompromising music and stance. We should consider them social and sonic pioneers, straddling the ground between Sex Pistols and Throbbing Gristle. We should care a lot more than we do and a reassessment is long overdue.
Jeffrey Lewis’ loving reinterpretations in 12 Crass Songs might kick-start the process. Stripped of much of their dated contemporary, ephemeral baggage (Thatcher, strikes, etc.) these tracks have endured as an intelligent, pithy, funny set of rebel songs. JL’s laid-back vibe offers a fresh perspective, compared to the rather hectoring tone of some of the originals.
I Ain’t Thick, It’s Just A Trick skitters above a pastoral piano & strings backing, a fitting homage to the band who used to live on a farm. Systematic Death is all galloping banjos and bongos, recalling vintage Violent Femmes. Surprises abound each time the CD track number increments. It’s a brave project – deeply unfashionable and yet very much of the moment.
4 – Feist – The Reminder

Look, I know this is tasteful coffee table music. I know it’s the soundtrack to the iPod ads. I know that Lesley Feist is part of the achingly hip Broken Social Scene collective. I know that the only people of style and grace in this world any more are Canadian and I know there are dinner parties where the presence of this album is almost more important than the food.
I know all these things and yet still I love it. I’ve filed it in the same mental pigeonhole as last year’s Joan As Police Woman album: the one I’ll probably still be playing in 20 years’ time. The reason for this is that its presence on the coffee tables and in the adverts is a result of its masterful lightness of touch, its understated emotional depth and its consummate artistry.
It covers so many bases. My Moon My Man wouldn’t sound out of place on Goldfrapp’s last album, 1234 is every jaunty summer pop song rolled into one, Intuition is sparse like Karen Dalton and The Park is the closest thing I’ve heard to Mary Margaret O’Hara’s voice coming out of anyone else’s mouth. Quite simply, it’s an astonishing achievement.
3 – Kid Harpoon – The First EP

Dimly aware of him for several months previously, my first real encounter with Kid Harpoon & The Powers That Be was at Electric Gardens, where he completely blew me away. While not wanting to discount the 2006 two-track single The Riverside, The Ocean, The Pearl entirely, this more widely available release from last October is really a very good place to start.
The headline track Milkmaid (“… with her firm shoulders and the attitude of Caesar”) is a little whimsical and doesn’t really give much of a flavour of the rest of the material. There’s a more folky but harder edge to the other songs (57‘s “Remember corporations stole your Glastonbury, the winning ideology stole you away from me” for example).
It’s still early days for Kid Harpoon’s recorded output, but on stage I saw a confident, passionate performer whose ability was undoubted and whose ambition was enviable (he turned out a fine cover of Cohen’s First We Take Manhattan). The inevitable Second EP will be released in a few weeks’ time and I’m fascinated to see where he goes from here.
1= – Laura Marling – My Manic And I

Maybe it’s a bit of a cop-out, but I really can’t decide between these final two releases from Laura Marling and Lupen Crook. Both artists have made a huge impact on me this year and, alongside Nothing Like The Sun, the multiple performances that I’ve attended have rarely failed to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Laura Marling released two EPs in 2007. London Town was a promising debut, but in retrospect sounds rather rudimentary compared to its magnificent successor, My Manic And I. The astonishing level of progression in maturity between the two is the perfect demonstration of why Laura is so much more than just a pretty girl with a sweet voice and a cool guitar.
She’s gone from wry kitchen sink drama to existential dread in a matter of months and the results sound ever more thrilling. Night Terror and title track My Manic And I are profound, unsettling compositions that sound like a young woman walking blindfolded across shifting sands. Even the more down-to-earth Typical contemplates perspective and morals.
Ignore both the lazy comparisons to Lily Allen and Kate Nash (purely on the basis of a few youthful glottal stops in New Romantic) and NME’s admirable but rather ham-fisted compensatory attempts to depict her as some kind of Gothic Joni Mitchell. Parallels drawn with Martha Wainwright, Emmylou Harris or even Karen Dalton (again) would be more accurate.
A third single Ghosts has sneaked out almost under the radar over the past few weeks and it’s not particularly clear whether it’s an official release or more of a promo taster for the debut album Alas I Cannot Swim. It’s equally worth seeking out: a tender exploration of “two lovers crying on each other’s shoulders” that builds to a surprisingly rousing finale.
When she talks about the music that enthuses and inspires her, two names recur: Ryan Adams and Neil Young. This is particularly instructive, because it indicates a love of classic, high-quality songwriting far removed from the triviality and ephemera of the fickle pop music scene. It’s clear that she’s in this for the long haul, which is an exciting prospect indeed.
1= – Lupen Crook & The Murderbirds – Matthew’s Magpie

By the close of 2006 I already owned several Lupen Crook releases and I mentioned his debut album in my favourite music list this time last year, but it wasn’t really until early 2007 that I started playing his material more regularly. By the Spring, when I’d filled in the gaps in the back catalogue and finally seen a live performance, I’d become a massive fan.
Since then, I’ve seen five more live shows and have eagerly anticipated new recorded material. The second album Iscariot The Ladder is due imminently and this taster single was the band’s only release in late 2007. Its title track is a new version of a song originally on his solo debut release in 2005 and its reworking tells you a lot about what’s been happening.
The original acoustic take was a restrained, slightly elfin affair. The full-band performance opens similarly, but once the drums and bass kick in it’s clear that the controls have been set for the heart of the jugular. With its punky reggae bass line, straightforward electric guitars and unflashy production, it has a very direct and definite sense of purpose.
Of the other tracks available in the various incarnations of this single, The Hardest Way Home is the most similar: a breakneck lyric over a fluid, vaguely Middle Eastern background (like a woozy, very stoned Rock The Casbah). Miss Page I Love You harks back to his earlier solo material and the blink-brief Fine Start To MisDirection is a plaintive sketch.
Infinitely more interesting is 22 U And The SA-10 Sounds, which takes unexpected risks with a bossanova drum pattern, a couple of anxious synth lines, some minimally jaunty guitar, the ever-present xylophone, a Jackanory-like female spoken word section and the best (and probably entirely unintentional) Damon Albarn impression I’ve heard for a long time.
Its bleak conclusion (“Don’t wake up, wake up, there’s no hope for anyone… there’s no point in living after all”) is rather at odds with the gleeful experimentation of the music that underpins it. But then, that’s Lupen Crook all over: saying one thing, implying another and probably ultimately meaning something entirely different. It’s all part of the considerable appeal.
So, that’s that. Ten gold-standard releases that I recommend unequivocally; not necessarily because they’re “better” than others, but because they meant a lot to me. They became part of the very fabric of my life: a blood-tingling, breath-taking, mind-bending collection of the best that the genre has to offer. Now, bring on 2008 and let’s do it all over again…
Favourite Music Of 2007: Bronze | Silver | Gold