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Welcome to Postmodern Accident’s Best of 2007. Now you can all just kiss off into the air.

Let’s begin the final installment of the countdown by reiterating my choices for best album of the past several years. I think it’s the best way to illustrate my mindset in making these selections.

The best album of 2003 was in fact Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief. I tend to think of that year as having an embarrassment of riches when it comes to strong individual songs, but only a few major contenders in the album category. At this point, I was still floating from the slow, syrupy fix of Amnesiac a few years before, and it may have clouded my judgment. Big apologies to Mew, and Muse, and Tangiers, and the Rapture, but none of you seemed to push the boundaries of your capabilities; Radiohead, on the other hand, managed to go even further into the experimental abyss while still maintaining an exceptionally identifiable sound.

The best album of 2004 was Liars’ They Were Wrong, So We Drowned, and I knew it the first time I heard it, and I never wavered from that decision. This is the album that nobody likes except for me, except of course for all of us who say that this is the album that nobody likes except for us. This was the sound of a band completely shattering the expectations of every last one of their fans, all the while challenging themselves. I reward nothing more than fearless adventurousness, especially in bands that already fit neatly into a box. (Additional bonus points for sampling Einstürzende Neubauten.)

The best album of 2005 was the Dandy Warhols’ Odditorium or Warlords of Mars. This is the album that nobody likes except for me. Really. Google it if you don’t believe me! For me, it’s the sound of a highly talented pop group going completely off the rails. It’s perverse, trippy, long, and nobody else likes it; in other words, the perfect album.

The best album of 2006 was Hot Chip’s The Warning. This one almost seems like a conservative choice for me, but I was constantly stricken by its intelligence and its playability, plus it marked the culmination of my three-year obsession with all things produced by the DFA. “Over and Over” is dirty, “Boy from School” is charming, and “No Fit State” is hypnotically alluring. I still listen to this album frequently, and no, their new release Made in the Dark doesn’t hold a candle to it.

And the best album of 2007? It shouldn't take a nihilist with a good imagination to figure it out.



The problem with “best albums” is that they’re the ones you least want to talk about. This year, I could go on about Kevin Barnes’ transformation into a bona fide rock star, his use of the record as a therapeutic outlet for his depression and as a document of his recovery. I could make long statements about how I am still completely uninterested in Of Montreal’s shady past of twee, children-being-indulgent pop records, with titles like The Bedside Drama, The Gay Parade, and Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies. I could even lash out generally against the painfully unadventurous Elephant 6 collective, while pointing out how this album marks Of Montreal’s evolution beyond such earlier constraints.

And you know what? Kevin Barnes is weird.

But none of that really matters. Mostly, I just want to play the album... repeatedly. Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? struck a chord in me immediately, as it takes just one listen to hear its magic. Barnes is a stunningly great melodicist and lyricist, and the music—something akin to synthesized glam rock, complete with glorious dollops of Sparks and early Eno—is kaleidoscopic in its constant whirl of color and energy. Barnes moves effortlessly from sunny, histrionic pop like “Suffer for Fashion” through the epic driving menace of “The Past Is a Grotesque Animal” to the crunchy manic rock of “She’s a Rejecter” in such a way that you can tell he’s reached some sort of catharsis. (Or possibly several of them: emotional, mental, sexual...) Every time I go back to the album, I discover new moments; the simple fact that I’ve heard such gems as “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse” and “Gronlandic Edit” hundreds of times and yet still feel like I’m listening with virgin ears is a testament to how fun and fresh the record remains.

Oh, shit. You probably just went to YouTube and watched the video for either one of those songs and now you think I'm fucking mad. This could be the music of a million crack-addled street musicians, vying for attention. You and your Wilco New Pornographer ears have now lost all faith in my musical credibility. That's it, folks. Game's over; the countdown is done, and it was all rendered meaningless by a quick, harsh judgment against music that sounds completely inane to you on the surface.

I won't lie: Hissing Fauna is overwhelmingly self-indulgent, but here's a key difference between Of Montreal and, say, Dan Deacon. Most artists indulge after a taste of success; buoyed by confidence, they lose their ability to self-edit and produce disastrously misguided material as a result. Of Montreal, however, has done the opposite. Their indulgence has brought about their success, and Barnes has delivered his finest album to date on the heels of severe self-doubt. I can only hope that the massive confidence boost he received this year (especially evident in their live show) does not cloud his vision for the future. I have ranked Hissing Fauna as the #1 record of the year because, more than any other record, it demonstrates remarkable growth in an artist whose future could not be brighter.