2007 Is Dead. Am I?/The Year In Music 2007

No..... No... Fuck.

Sometimes I do feel that if I haven't written something in a spell that I might've died and just didn't know it yet. But also, I really have this great desire to die like a man. Like I wanna be killed by a cold-blooded, bad-ass killer like the great Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem, above). I've begun to think that this sort of death is like the new lung cancer and reflects the shortened attention span that my American generation is built upon. Wow, that just sounded like some shit straight out of "Natural Born Killers"--a completely overrated movie, by the way.

Ring, ring, the bells do ring. The man who would be the devil has returned. For the first time, I can certainly acknowledge that this readership consists not only of dear friends and curious observers, but also by people who I no longer consider friends but yet for whom I still wish to have access to all these wonderful words. I mean hell, its not like I hate you or anything. Or I'm just too lazy to take you off the mailing list. Either way, you are all welcome. And you're welcome.

I've struggled with sleep lately. Maybe you can tell. But in all truthiness, I've been having some bad dreams lately. Typically, I never have dreams so bad that I remember or are truly affected by them. Lately, I've dreamt of sex and murder (my own), being chased and being loved. And while over half of that sounds cool, there isn't one part of it that has done anything but make me feel...done for.

But I've never believed in any of that premonition shit. I'm pretty sure that these last few nights of bad dreams have resulted from a lack of direction in my personal and professional life, the imminent arrival in a year and a half of my 30th birthday, or the fact that something, no matter how silly this seems, freaks me out about characters on TV who are supposed to be my age who have a wife and kids. But maybe it's none of that. I think it may be because I've never compiled a year-end, top 10 albums of the year, 2007 year end list to end the year.

So The Authority of Greatness is here with the best albums of the year. Just so we're clear, this is about what I like and what therefore is right. This isn't reflective of the opinions of Rolling Stone (too much sell-out crap), Pitchfork (too much self-righteousness), Blender (too douchey), or Spin (who cares about Spin anymore?). In addition to the list (which includes linked reviews), fancy boy has provided a playlist so you can listen to some of the best that 2007 had to offer. Best playlist ever? Of course not. Just the best playlist of 2007 of ever and ever. I honestly don't care to hear any arguments about my list. But praise and inquiry is certainly welcome. And again, you're welcome. So without futheradoodoo (giggle), like a hear hear go.


10. Of Montreal: "Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?"









9. Wilco: "Sky Blue Sky"










8. King Louie and The Loose Diamonds: "Memphis Treet"









7. Arcade Fire: "Neon Bible"









6. Okkervil River: "The Stage Names"










5. The Teeth: "You're My Lover Now"










4. The White Stripes: "Icky Thump"










3. Spoon: "Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga"









2. Radiohead: "In Rainbows"









1. The National: "Boxer"











So that is the guide for those of you who need to truly understand where the musical greatness of 2007 lies. Here's some nice audio candy for ya (just double-click on any track to start):

And so we begin again. Maybe my baddy bad dreams will finally cease now that I have done God's work. For me, 2007 was about getting right again. My aim for 2008 is to get good again. Some of you are now just memories, but that's the natural course of things. Don't take it too personally. Lord knows I've run out of usefulness in the lives of some people. The blog shall continue with more funny, more sexy, more goody. The introspection of 2007's depth has run its course. I am ready to take the mantle of court jester once more. Say a prayer for the following, even if you don't understand them: For Everton, for the Dallas Cowboys, for Barack, for Oklahoma City, for discovery, for sex, for culture, for Man. As I finish these final words at the bar, the lights of this episode slowly fade and the light of a frosty brew await my lovin' hands. I love you if I do...