Part 3 today of the fantastalistic BRCM Top Ten Albums of the Year. We aint necessarily calling these the best albums, they're just our favorites. We'll have the final installment next Tuesday.
First, here's some fine albums that didn't make the cut, but are worthy of y'all hunting down some mp3's to see what you think. The list is in no particular order:
Califone: Roots and Crowns
The Be Good Tanya's: Hello Love
Handsome Family:Last Days Of Wonder
The Buffets: Saucy Jack
Bob Dylan: Modern Times
The King Kkan and BBQ Show: What's For Dinner
Jack O and the Tennessee Tearjerkers: The Flip Side Kid
Yo La Tengo: I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass (best title for an album ever)
Bonnie Prince Billy: The Letting Go
Scott Biram: Graveyard Shift
Jim Lauderdale: Country Super Hits,Vol. 1
The Legendary Shack Shakers: Pandelirium
Now, on with the exciting part of the show. Ladies and gentlemen, Part 3:
5. South Filthy: Crackin' Up
Bring the boogie. One of the most aptly named groups around, the moniker tells you all you really need to know about this nasty little supergroup featuring Jeffrey Evans, Jack Yarber (Oblivian), Walter Daniels, Eugene Chadbourne, and a host of other trash merchants. I wrote more extensively on this band and this album in an earlier post. Here's part of what I said:
bit rawk, and a whole lotta country. Pop a top on your favorite beverage, settle into your lawn chair and enjoy the mad dog stylings of South Filthy."
4. Cat Power: The Greatest
Chan Marshall has apparently been to hell and back, ripe for a VH1 special. I'm not a subscriber to the pop psychology notion that pain makes for great art. Marshall almost changed my mind. Almost. The problem with crediting pain or personal disorder to the creating process is that it takes for granted, or even negates, a little thing called talent. All the Artist's Way books in the world aren't going to make a piss poor writer, painter, or musician any better. Marshall's got talent in spades, and, outside of humane reasons for me wishing her well, I could really give a rat's ass about her demons. Show me what you got on the finished product, give me a song that lasts. And, whoah nelly, Cat Power dropped a bombshell. I found it hard to believe that Marshall could ever top her album "Moon Pix", and her last album, "You Are Free", sort of confirmed to me that she had long ago reached her peak. "You Are Free" was, frankly, a rather bad album. So it was with trepidation that I approached her latest, "The Greatest". I'm glad I did. Gathering some of the finest legendary Memphis studio musicians, Marshall is transformed. Long known for her lustily lazy, almost sleepy, vocal style, Marshall practically swings and swaggers through a good amount of these tunes, while the crack band honking and fiddling behind her. Even when things slow to normal Cat Power crawl and meditation it's with a sultrier, more confident sexiness than we're used to. It's a very Southern album, the kudzu lit hazily by the mid-afternoon sun. An album where the belle wanders off from the ball, barefoot, dancing with the ghosts of her dreams.