On the way to 2008, I'm counting down ten songs that made me especially glad to have ears this past year.

Finger Eleven - Paralyzer

My second nod to the true north strong and free already, and my first (and probable only) tip of the hat to anything resembling the mainstream. What can I say? I like Canadians, at least when they're acting appropriately contrite for inflicting Nickelback upon the world.

Yeah, it's a pretty straight rip-off of Franz Ferdinand's Take Me Out groove, from the chunky, jerk-dance rhythm to the studied nonsense of the lyrics. But it was a fine groove that stood to be ganked once or twice as far as I'm concerned, so good on them for being the someone that did it. No life-changer, surely already beaten mercilessly into your brain, and not really worth me expounding upon, but for all that it's as non-suck as anything I heard on free commercial radio this year.

Labels: Finger Eleven, most songs of the year

Over the next few days, I'm counting down ten songs that made me especially glad to have ears this year.

II: Slagsmålsklubben - His Morning Promenade

The lure of my little brother's XBox360 aside, I'm not much of a video gamer these days. But looking back, I realize just how profoundly my childhood holidays were parceled out by the sixteen-bit chunk. And that's why I'm talking about SMK here now.

Time was that every holiday meant loading into the old '77 Bonneville and driving a couple hours down to Grandma's house. It was an old farmhouse, the newer technology inside having been installed in the mid-70s. There was no cable TV there then. Hell, there's no cable TV there now. Thank God for older cousins and their toys. While elderly Lithuanian folks played pinochle and drank coffee, my brothers and I spent hours in the creaky old glassed-in porch, scuffling over who got to play this classic:




















This was the best Christmas gift EVER, ca. 1984.


















And while the Giants were beating the Broncos in Super Bowl XXI a few weeks after another Christmas, my Dad was figuring out how to set this up:



























Looking the part of the creepiest town council imaginable, Scandinavian synth band Slagsmålsklubben makes the sort of music the 11 year old me, Super Mario, and DJ Glass Joe would have mashed together after getting high on smoked herring. It's instant, chimey and yet so deftly layered.
I love that Slagsmålsklubben apparently translates to "Fight Club" - the most inappropriate matching of an act's movie title-inspired name and sound since Three Colours Red.
And there's just something slightly, attractively deviant about the motto - "6 men with analogue synths." When you see that, you just assume something weird is up. It sure is, from the looks of the video.

Labels: most songs of the year, Slagsmålsklubben

It must be the night before the night before Christmas: here's the post that's leading a bunch of people to this blog lately. Got to love the keyword search meta info magic powers I have, and chuckle at the thought that more than a few people are winding up here, of all places.
The funny thing is, half are searching for "perfect christmas gift" and half are searching for "taking revenge."

And since we've reached the last week or so of the year, it must be time for everyone to toss around their 10/20/50/100 best singles/albums of the year. Here's one place to start finding a few of those.

Me, I'm not good at putting together these best-of lists. No, "not good" is a weak way to put it: I'm downright terrible at thinking about things in such ways, and so I rarely try. To begin with, I'm a bit lazy sometimes - but you knew that. What's more, I'm averse to the whole list concept, from the generally random or nonexistent criteria, to the pretense of judging Album A three slots better than Album B. Which is a shitty old music magazine cliche (I'm looking at you, Rolling Stone) that every blogger now feels compelled to mimic.

As if that weren't enough, I never feel like I've heard enough music anyway. There's just too much music out there and not enough time. When's the last time I listened to whole albums? I'm as unconcerned with "cred" as anyone who disingenuously says they're unconcerned with "cred," but if you knew how many of 2007's hyped-up acts and must-have records I haven't heard note one of, you'd shit. And then you'd ignore my "list."

Nevertheless.

Over the next few days, as 2007 shuffles off to wherever old, used-up years go, I'll count down ten songs that made me especially glad to have ears this year. I'm not saying they're the best or most significant things to be pressed to electrons this year. Nor do I see any need to order them, as if that meant a thing. Some you'll have heard of (especially since I've probably written something about them before), some you likely haven't.
Just think of them as my little, intensely subjective, year-end aural gift to you, wrapped up in a piece of me.
My, doesn't that sound gross.

Without further ado, the first of my Ten Most Songs Of 2007. With sound, when I can find it.


10. Between My Legs - Rufus Wainwright

I had been programming Going To A Town on the show for weeks before its bitterness and ornateness slapped me awake around 4 one Sunday morning while I drove to a race; that got me into Release The Stars. Rules and Regulations has similar pop quality and that hysterical campfest of a video going for it. But this is the song of the album for me, and the best song about lust and the apocalypse I've heard all year. I'm a sucker for tales of lust and the apocalypse, especially when they soar ever higher and higher like this. By the time the spoken word part ends, it's cutting through the stratosphere. And cocking a snook at the Phantom of the Opera. Terrific.

(no luck at linking from Hype Machine or Myspace, so live via Youtube will have to do.

Labels: most songs of the year, rufus wainwright