best album by a sexually ambiguous troubadour

it’s been a very tumultuous year for patrick wolf. he literally catapulted into the annals of indiedom when the magic position was embraced by pitchfork, relentless arbiter of hipness that they are, racking up some of the best headlines of the year alongside some of its better songs (do you remember when he blasted mika on his myspace? those were some good times.). the hot-panted singer, adored for his style as much as his substance, rode one hell of a rollercoaster in 2007, a ride which ended mere days ago with a pair of concerts at london’s shepherd's bush empire (one of which our very own tearknee attended). wolf, who is known for his ambiguous missives as much as his questionable sexuality (those pants, man!), is probably taking some time off to work on a new album, or his own record label (lycanthropy and wind in the wires are its first slated releases, natch), or hem some more shorts and dye his hair another color, or who the fuck knows. patrick wolf’s home life is probably just as bizarre and interesting as the magic position, which is to say, lots.

patrick wolf is one of the closest things we have to a prodigy (i’m so not counting tiny masters of today, by the way), a songwriter whose budding genius was abundantly visible to fat cat, if no one else, at the ripe old age of sixteen. while most of his peers were illegally drinking and trying to pull similarly drunk girls, wolf was squatting with friends and developing a unique personality and songwriting approach. the fat cats at fat cat gave him some new equipment and studio time, and received lycanthropy, an album that only begins to hint at his talent and genius. by wind in the wires wolf’s style was honed to razor sharpness, his distinctive talent blossoming. often defined by the twin cores of glitchy drums and string-snapping violin, wind in the wires is grand and epic, wolf’s fascination with mythology evident on songs like “tristan” and “the libertine.” for the magic position, however, wolf’s gaze turned inward.

the magic position is, first and foremost, a love album, one that captures its nuances, ecstatic highs and crushing lows both, with more charisma and sophistication than many of its peers (and is very enjoyable to boot!). one of the most striking features of the magic position is wolf's obvious versatility and flexibility, to say nothing of his candid self-assurance. his public persona is unabashedly dramatic and highly sexual, and the magic position overflows with a tangible sense of purity - this is wolf as he really is, vulnerable yet confident. however, were it not for his musical dynamism and ingenuity, patrick wolf could be just another melancholy singer/songwriter, possessed of an abundance of joy and misery; instead, he ranks as one of the most inventive and innovative pop songwriters of the new millennium, joyfully blending stiff, harsh electronic beats with wanton strings and horns, each anchored in his sweeping vision for a brave new aesthetic.

naturally, the album's most engaging song is its titular one; "the magic position" is catchy, with a riveting violin hook, and exuberant, wolf's voice soaring with delight, combined with his overwhelmingly positive lyrics, delivered in enough of an off-tempo cadence to catch the ear and keep it. his style is so bold that the magic position is, at times, almost difficult to listen to - the whole record is truly ingenious, but its brilliance is so pronounced as to make hearing it an effort. it is not easy listening. wolf can purportedly play sixteen instruments, and the aural depth of the magic position would suggest that he takes a turn at all of them - it is simply baffling, and nearly impossible, to try and identify every sound or every instrument in even a single song. that being said, the magic position has many overarching instrumental themes, chiefly, as before, a heavy reliance on dirty electronic beats and distorted drum effects. but wolf trades in his younger brashness for a more nuanced sound; album highlight "augustine" is almost a ballad, led by a emotional piano that underscores the audible worry in his voice. "(let's go) get lost," indisputably the magic position's best song, is very nearly a cacophony, with horns, theremin, keyboards, hand claps, finger snaps, and assorted electronic gadgets chirping in time, while perfectly capturing the blinding exultation of love. the magic position is very obviously an ode to love, that most universal (and indescribable) human emotion, and wolf's own love for his music is evident at every turn. he plays with a vivaciousness and rampant happiness that is absolutely infectious, so that "accident & emergency" plays on repeat in your skull, and brings a smile every time.

i have to stress that the magic position is not an easy album. it took me a long time to listen to it and really enjoy it, more than a couple months, but sticking it out is so very rewarding. it is really a brilliant piece of work, and every time i remember all that he's accomplished at the embarrassingly young age of 23, it fills me with a deep and abiding sense of shame. i think his songwriting is, more than anything else, brave - it's absolutely original and absolutely captivating and far more engaging than the absurdity of freak-folk or drone-rock, or whatever genre is in vogue right now, and pretty damn inimitable. the taut drama of the magic position is important, nay, essential, for furthering the evolution of contemporary music. it may not be the best album you've heard this year, or even the most enjoyable (it isn't either for me), but i think it's the most critical. patrick wolf is doing things musically that i'm not hearing anywhere else, and the magic position is his best work yet. it deserves your attention, and your respect.

"augustine" & "(let's go) get lost"

best album by a one-man band

simply put, i am fascinated by one-man bands, the relatively recent phenomenon that is aided, abetted, and allowed by the mind-bogglingly vast array of noisemaking electronic gadgets, thingys, and doodads available (or, if you’re on a budget, a macbook is probably as good). i am a devoted fan of one-man bands of every style and persuasion, ranging from daniel snaith (caribou), owen pallett (final fantasy), eric san (kid koala) or otis jackson, jr. (madlib), to even geneviève castrée (woelv). each creates in me a feeling a wonder, amazement even, as they systematically assemble songs from scraps, building intensely complex aural structures from single, abstracted fragments. even relative nobodies, like remember remember or alexander tucker, instantly impress me as they build loop after loop, for their discipline and order as much as anything else; i know i wouldn’t be able to keep one rhythm in my head, much less five, six, seven. my ear has always been drawn to progressive, complex songs (i first realized this when i identified [and rocked out to] every part of “found a job”, reveling in the talking heads’s layers and rejecting the sloppiness of the ramones), and while i find that fullest satisfaction is watching these multi-tiered songs constructed in a live setting, there is something immaculate and perfect about one-man band studio albums that can never be reproduced. so, what’s my favorite one-man band album of 2007? pitchfork skeptic though i am, ryan schreiber and i are on the same page about one thing: how fucking awesome person pitch is.

person pitch, the third solo release by panda bear, was very nearly my favorite album of the year, a work of staggering brilliance that compels listeners with its dualism, simultaneously intricate and blindingly simple. panda bear is the bestial pseudonym of noah lennox, a songwriter who has risen to prominence mostly (prior to 2007) due to his work in animal collective, infamous freak-folk progenitors, but striking out on his own might be the smartest thing lennox has ever done. despite my current love of the album, i spent most of 2007 ignoring it. the reason? i am SO not an animal collective fan. i tend to listen to them as much as i listen to bright eyes, the arcade fire, or the eagles, which is to say, never. (side story: person pitch impressed me so much that i even gave strawberry jam a listen; i turned it off halfway through the first song. ew.) but person pitch skillfully avoids the jarring pitfalls and irritating, pointless grating of animal collective by simply ignoring it. the album is melodic more than anything else (nearly to the point of overflow), lennox’s songs woven together by carefully conceived happenstance, with more flavors in the mix than jambalaya. the result is an unendingly enjoyable album, but one that is charismatic and rewarding as well as entertaining.

person pitch is a rare album by any standard. assembled from a smattering of singles, 7"s, and one-off songs, it still clings together with an enviable stylistic cohesion. with some exceptions, lennox's lyrics are mostly so distorted that they are indistinguishable, which really prioritizes the music. one exception is album opener "comfy in nautica," which entreats the listener to "try to remember always / just to have a good time." "comfy in nautica" deserves its popularity; in addition to being the album's best known (and most accessible) song, it really sets person pitch's tone and framework. starting as a cascade of clanking machinery, lennox pares that harshness away to the slow regularity of marching feet and a single, looped choir note that hits every other beat - such is the album's formula, simple and intoxicating repetition.

person pitch is aesthetically divided into two categories, based solely on song length. the album features two epic compositions, "bros" and "good girl/carrot," brilliant works that, together, make up more than half of person pitch's length. despite their length (both clock in at over 12:30), neither feels contrived nor too long - they are performed without haste or waste, the type of songs where the removal of one note would make a profound difference. both are fluid, progressive songs with multiple melodies and themes blending into each other seamlessly. all of these, however, are attributes of the album as a whole, and "bros" and "good girl/carrots" are merely larger versions of "take pills" or "i'm not," expanded. every song on the album is viscerally alive in your headphones, and listening to person pitch on constant repeat doesn't diminish its brilliance in the slightest.

as part of the album's artwork, panda bear helpfully provides a look at his working environment, a menagerie of electronics that belies person pitch's rich, organic sound. though created mostly from samples and distorted sounds, the album is fuzzy and warm, almost lo-fi in its tenderness and aural intimacy. person pitch's formula is a simple, straightforward one: lennox starts each song with a sample, then adds a couple more, and sings on top, often manipulating his vocals, and then adds a couple more samples. analyzing his approach may satisfy some academic thirst for knowledge, but person pitch doesn't need it. the album is a gem, and well deserves the several nods it has received for best of 2007. if you a) haven't it heard yet or b) haven't bought it yet, you are c) missing out. go out and get it tomorrow.

"take pills" & "i'm not"
buy person pitch at paw tracks.

view people party (a fan-made concert documentary of three panda bear
performances in 2007) at eat tapes.

best album by three brunettes from brooklyn

i don't know anyone who really likes au revoir simone as much as i do (i like them a lot). i've been trying to get my friends to listen to the bird of music, the brooklyn trio's sophomore album, for months now, but they can't really hear its charm or understand the allure of its tender and restrained aura. which is really a shame, since it's been my sleeper hit of the year since its release in may by our secret record company. the bird of music is simple and not aurally or intellectually taxing, which automatically sets it apart from many of the more "acclaimed" 2007 releases (seriously, what the fuck is up with this shit?) and may contribute to why its been so overlooked (bloggers being the arrogant s.o.b.s that we are). in reality, the bird of music, though simple, is sophisticated nonetheless, has incredible staying power, and is often just plain great.

au revoir simone is the result of a fortuitous train encounter in 2003 between the band's lead songwriters, erika forster and annie hart, and with the addition of heather d'angelo, they had a band. all three ladies play keyboards, imbuing their music with the saccharine sweetness that defines their sound, without overpowering ears. d'angelo, in addition to playing keys, is au revoir simone's beatmaker, manning the drum machine. the bird of music really runs the gamut stylistically; while their sound is consciously limited by the one-dimensionality of their instrumentation, au revoir simone tweaks their approaches on a song-by-song basis, so that some songs are gentle and harmonic, while others have such fuzzed-out keyboard distortion that it almost brings sonic youth to mind, all within a melodic and poppy framework. they're not the next ween or anything, and i'm not trying to imply that the bird of music is anything but sweet, catchy pop music, because that's all it is. but, at the same time, it's pretty damn intelligent, and the ways these ladies wield their keyboards is certainly impressive as well as addicting.

the best pop music, i think, is the kind you can't really over-intellectualize - after all, the best thing about songs like "toxic" is there's no thinking involved on your part. a lot of time and energy (and, dare i say, brilliance) went into manufacturing such a flawless, mindless song. now, au revoir simone certainly aren't britney spears's songwriters, and they are targeting a...more "discerning" audience, perhaps, than "toxic" was designed for, but the basic principle of pop remains the same - you're not supposed to think about it too much, at least as a listener. you're supposed to enjoy it, and absorb it so that it becomes familiar and comforting. au revoir simone's touch is so light and their hooks are so goddamn big that the bird of music becomes familiar before you even realize it, their melodies wending the way to your brain. i find listening to the bird a refreshing experience, especially in this weather - the album's production is so stark, so restrained, the notes round and smooth - it's very digestible and satisfying.

au revoir simone make songs like painters who can't stand to see the canvas - every inch of the sonic map is covered, plotted, filled with music. there is a gentle, steam-like hiss in "lark," for example, constant during the entire song, which is just one layer of the immaculately designed complexity that three keyboards can create. they stack rhythms, melodies, creating full songs from slight beginnings. as complex and well-designed as au revoir simone's songs are, however, each element is crafted to buttress the others, so that the overall effect is a full, not disjointed, affair. the most appealing part of their music may be their own voices, which function is a similar fashion. all three sing on every track, in unison and in harmony, and what makes their voices especially appealing is that they are the only organic sounds on the record. the stiffness of the drums and the flatness of the notes are so alien that the ear latches on to their rich voices like a bee to honey. (i believe all three are altos, and i can sing along to many of their songs without straining my voice, which is definitely another reason i like them so much. winning the singalong vote is crucial.)

though the words are often buried in the mix, au revoir simone's lyrics are a definite highlight of the bird of music, cheerful and melancholy both, sincere reflections from life. some of the album's best lyrics are on "fallen snow," an apt title. keyboards trundle along with sleigh-like regularity, and bells are heard in the background, and has all the cheer of the holiday season. "nothing's worse than seeing you worse than me / nothing hurts like seeing you hurt like me" is one such choice line, but the whole effect is to capture the frightening future. "depressing things are empty beds and lonely dinners / women who are middle-aged with naked fingers" could be the best line on the album - a shockingly self-aware recognition of the possibility of a lonely life. "stars," on the other hand, feels like a kicker from the first burst of tinkly piano, a bubblegum-sweet song about meeting a boy, with the winning chorus of "you make me wanna match the stars in the backyard / with a calculator and a ruler, baby." "dark halls" and "night majestic" are two other excellent tunes, the former a cheerful ditty about bus trips to boston and the latter a cute songs about horses.

electropop hasn't gotten much love since give up, but that hasn't stopped au revoir simone. the bird of music is really a lovely album, and i know it's one that i will listen to for past december 31. their fuzzy sweetness is familiar to me, and comforting. for me, it's a blanket album - i can play it pretty much anywhere, at any time, and always be satisfied by my choice. i don't expect you to be blown away, but it's not that kind of an album. if you like what you hear the first time, listen to it again, and you'll like it even more.

"fallen snow" & "night majestic"

best most grossly overhyped album of the year / most often found use for the word "chanteuse"

way back in april, i, along with most of the indie world, waited for the reminder with bated breath, sure that whatever leslie feist had cooked up since let it die was sure to astonish, amaze, and generally kick ass. in fact, one of mr. mammoth's earliest posts was about "my moon my man," the reminder's first single, and how excited i was for the album's release proper. i had only recently fallen in love with let it die, and was sure that her new album would equal its richness and complexity; i was prepared to be blown away. "my moon my man" had shocked me a little - feist sounded so clean and hip, the rustic warmth of "one evening" traded for postmodern self-awareness - and though i eventually warmed to its whirling chaos and stable beat, i secretly hoped that we'd get feist the lounge singer (à la "inside and out") as well as feist the chic.

it turns out we didn't really get either. with only a few exceptions, the reminder is overwhelmingly monochromatic, its songs colored by the gray brush of regret instead of the rainbow i had expected. what happened to feist? her old cheek peers through the cracks in the reminder, but it should really be the other way around. only five songs on the record feel upbeat, but they are neither seductive nor smoky enough to earn her the oft-used "chanteuse" label. the other eight songs are lethargic with minimal orchestration, yet one instrument in particular carries the others instead of working in tandem with them: feist's voice. it is the crux of her songs, and rightly so - it is one of the richest in contemporary music. yet even its lingering texture and timbre aren't quite enough of a justification for songs like "the park," wearyingly repetitive, or "how my heart behaves," another song that doesn't end soon enough. adding insult to injury is the fact that feist's voice suddenly doesn't seem versatile enough to carry nearly a full album of vocal-focal songs (it sounds funny when you say it out loud, alright?). she uses the same voice catches, the same open-throat singing style on every song - after a while, especially without decent instrumentation, it gets boring, the reminder's greatest downfall.

the reminder has been met by unceasing critical praise since its release, a year that has culminated with a slavish article by rolling stone and an appearance on many year-end lists, success based on a small core of great songs that has propelled the mediocre album (by a great artist) to popularity. though "my moon my man" was the reminder's first single, it was a different song that has raised feist's profile (and album sales) - the inimitably catchy "1 2 3 4." "1 2 3 4" garnered well-deserved praise for its patrick daughters-directed video even before it was adopted by apple for its ipod nano commerials, though its use by the sleek computing giant was responsible for its massive success. (on a side note, it's interesting to think about how uncontroversial that instance of song-licensing was, in a year marked by other, more troubling examples.) "1 2 3 4" and "my moon my man" (its video is also directed by daughters) are the reminder's best songs, and while there are a handful more good ones, i still cannot understand why the album (not just the songs, mind you) has been so well-received, when there are only five above decent cuts on there.

the reminder is a sad album, sad from the post-relationship, self-excoriating "so sorry" at the top of the album, sad to the post-relationship, self-excoriating "how my heart behaves" at the end of it. thankfully, feist makes some detours from melancholy, with exceptional results. "my moon my man" and "1 2 3 4" are only two examples; others include the countrified "past in present," the africanized "sealion woman," and the major chord-heavy "i feel it all," all upbeat, cheerful, and the best feist has to offer. unfortunately, those five are woefully incomparable to anything from let it die, and the rest of the album really doesn't cut it. on "the water" and "honey honey," feist's voice is at its best, though the pallid instrumentation isn't really enough to catch the ear. yet, incomprehensibly, it has been feist's coming out album , with over three quarters of a million sales worldwide, and has received near-universal love from music critics and fans. i just don't understand.

"past in present" & "1 2 3 4"

one of the best british albums of last year that suffered a criminally delayed us release, so now it's one of the best albums of this year

normally, i trust and respect rough trade records quite a bit. in fact, i admire them so much that i made a deliberate detour to their london hq when last i was in town - the dollar is still too much of a whiny little bitch for me to shill out there for albums i can get here, but it was a really cool shop (also, had great street food while there). however, rough trade sometimes makes questionable decisions that are utterly befuddling, especially for their american fans. one of the most perplexing was the eight month delay between the british and north american release of someone to drive you home, debut album by sheffield's slickest glam punksters the long blondes.

it is clear from the outset that the long blondes know how to rock, lead guitarist dorian cox's melodies rough-hewn but pointed, ringing with a kind of 70s earnestness, completed by a constantly prominent bass that reminds you that it is okay to dance. early on in their career, the long blondes famously issued this statement: we do not listen to the beatles, the rolling stones, jimi hendrix, the doors or bob dylan, a bold claim that set them apart musically and intellectually. and, indeed, their sound, though it sounds like a straight throwback, is as unique as it is enjoyable. someone to drive you home was produced by steve mackey, ex-pulp bassist, after a string of singles earned the long blondes a great deal of acclaim, and was released in the uk on nov. 6, 2006. however, and here's where it gets sucky, north americans had to wait 8 fucking months for someone to drive you home to come out here! honestly, the damn album gets an 8.2 from pitchfork, blogs love it, and there were people who downloaded it and sincerely wanted to spend money on it and couldn't (read: mr. mammoth, y'all), yet it still took until july for us to get it! rough trade, what were you thinking?

jarring and jangly, someone to drive you home seduces you in seconds with its haughty melodies and clever lyrics, gripping in an instant and riveting for months. frontlady kate jackson sings one hell of a story, her character history developed and brought alive over someone's twelve songs, a character that combines the disdain and allure of femme fatale with the anxious desperation of a bridget jones. jackson nearly always sings in the first person , lending the songs an acute air of authenticity and drawing a striking portrait of modern femininity simultaneously. at once jealous, proud, assertive, caustic, passionate, aloof, and, most of all, sensitive, jackson's character engages as often as it repels, so we end up rooting for her whether she is trying to land a married man or bemoaning her unfulfilling home life. as honest as she sounds, it's really very striking that nearly all of the long blondes's lyrics are written by dorian cox - someone to drive you home only features two songs penned by jackson. yet, though cox displays unusual skill in cross-gender perspectives, jackson is necessary to bring this modern woman to life, imbuing her voice with smouldering desperation and captivating charm.

before the release of someone, the long blondes released a long string of singles, most of which appear on someone to drive you home, making it pop with catchy guitars and smart hooks. perhaps the band's most well-known song is "giddy stratospheres," which has been released four separate times. sharp guitars and saccharine synth drive this jealous anthem about a love rival, a groovy post-punk dance. "once and never again" is a bright song with lots of treble, and an admonishment from jackson that "you don't need a boyfriend," liberating nineteen year olds from the clutches of premature relationships. on a darker side of things, album closer "a knife for the girls" is a worrying rejection song with ominous drums and pointed distortion, yet is just as catchy as everything else on the album.

i think someone to drive you home is my most-listened to album of the year. it's angular and gloriously lo-fi sounding, rich and well-written, and never fails to cheer me up and make me dance, and, really, i don't think an album can do better than that. it's one of the most satisfying records of the year, and i am happy to go on record and say i love this album, and there aren't many that i would recommend as highly as this.

"giddy stratospheres" & "you could have both"
buy someone to drive you home from rough trade!

best album that defines a genre that applies to only one album

has there ever been as absurd of a genre as "nu-rave"? seriously, when has one album ever warranted the coining of an entirely new style of music? freak folk, post-rock, even slavic stomp - multiple albums were recorded by multiple bands before such labels were generated, but, apparently, myths of the near future, the debut album from klaxons, was revolutionary enough to bypass the necessary maturation and refining most new genres endure before popularization. on the other hand, most other genres don't have NME rooting for them every inch of the way. thanks to that farce of a publication, myths of the near future, which, admittedly, is a great album, was imbued with a significance and importance that far outstripped its beginnings, inventive though they were. however ridiculous the term "nu-rave" (which, for most intents and purposes, is synonymous with klaxons) seems, myths of the near future is, truly, a bold album, in more ways than one. music generally repeats itself every twenty years, but, by jumping the gun by a decade, and resurrecting rave before it had been outgrown, klaxons not only earned themselves a legion of fans and the eternal brownnosing praise of the new musical express, but copped britain's most prestigious musical prize while they were at it.

harsh words aside, i really like myths of the near future. cataclysmic, cacophonous, and with a generous dose of geek, klaxons's debut impressed me more with their post-apocalyptic disco than any similarities to rave music. the term "nu-rave" (or "new rave") was coined in 2006 by klaxons's then-label head, joe daniel, though it was wantonly appropriated and abused by nme, popularizing the term so crudely that klaxons themselves disdain any honor the phrase "nu-rave pioneers" earns them. in fact, on more than one occasion, they have referred to it as a "joke that’s got out of hand." unfortunately, thanks to nme, klaxons are now indelibly tarred with the nu-rave brush, though, ultimately, it doesn't matter what klaxons are called by others; myths from the near future speaks with its own voice.

strikingly creative and inventive, myths of the near future seems like far too mature of a release for such a young band - lyrically and musically forward-thinking, klaxons's sound seems destined to outlive the band themselves, and we'll probably be blasting "magick" in our underground bunkers when the world ends. (the band's wikipedia page discusses klaxons's "magic-realist" themes, especially the preponderance of references to aleister crowley, an early 20th century occulist, with much more confidence than i.) in choosing myths of the near future as their title, klaxons perfectly expressed our russian roulette future; post-apocalyptic soothsayers, predicting plagues and wars over machine gun drums and air raid sirens. whether or not we manage to lay complete waste to our planet in the near future, we'll always have klaxons to dance to in our full-body radiation suits.

even when klaxons turn down their fire & brimstone predictions, as on "isle of her," myths's midpoint, they lose none of their ominous aura. a supposed rowing song, "isle of her" is actually a dirge, swaying with lurching harmonies, its percussion clanking like ankle chains. while "isle of her" is klaxons only slow song, it is so successful that one wishes they delved into it more often. klaxons's clear forte is their love for cacophonous intensity. "magick," a highlight on an album full of them, combines both, pairing threatening synth and guitar lines, blisteringly ominous, with a diametric bridge. songs like "gravity's rainbow" and "golden skans" accomplish this as well, but "magick" in particular burns with a fierce drama, surpassed in fury only by "four horesemen of 2012," a brutal reminder of how close humanity is to extinction.

myths of the near future is a warning, but it seems unlikely that the band expected many people to take it at face value; after all, it's a dance album, so let's get dancing. i was never into the rave scene, so i can't vouch for its similarities to it, but what myths does have is ridiculously catchy bass lines (as on "forgotten works") and tons of singable harmonies (as on pretty much every song). it is an outstanding album in its own right, the more so because it is literally a trailblazing one, and a most promising debut. of course, they may well fall victim to nme's gruesome betrayal tactics, or release a shitty sophomore album, but myths of the near future stands on its own feet as one of the year's best.

"magick" & "four horsemen of 2012"

it's time for someone to put their foot down. and that foot is mammoth.

as the year winds down, it becomes ever more obvious that no one gives a shit about anything released after october (as evidenced by stylus's early, ambitious list). mr. mammoth here is no exception (honestly, was anyone excited by this?), but the whole concept of a "best of" list is absolute anathema here at mammoth HQ. clearly, some albums are better than others, but how can you say this album is better than this one? they're both impossibly excellent, and are crafted in totally disparate styles - i couldn't say one is better than the other. maybe i enjoyed one more, but better is such a bullshit subjective phrase that i won't even waste your time pretending that my opinion of "best" is really that valuable of a guide. what all qualitative reckonings require - and what most "best of" lists lack - is context. therefore, mr. mammoth is proud to present our 100% subjective, 100% contextual best of 2007 report - a month-long look at some albums i really enjoyed for some very specific reasons. i'll try to update three times a week between now and the end of the year, and maybe - just maybe - there will be something new for you. fingers crossed.

first album tomorrow!