Top Ten Lists of 2007

By Nicole V.

Ah, the year end list. Admittedly, mine tend to be bottom-heavy (containing mostly things I enjoyed within the last few months of the year), but this year, for the first time, my year didn’t feel divided by the beginning of new school calendars and the start of fall. Instead, the year started in January, just as it is supposed to. Well. I guess this is what growing up feels like.

Ted Leo: Photo © Nicole V., October 7, 2007. The Mod Club.

1. Michael Cera: We will not speak of Arrested Development as the wounds are still too fresh. I will say that Michael Cera’s character on that show, George Michael, is my all-time-favorite portrayal of the awkward, insecure, approval-seeking adolescent. Flawless. A friend of mine is convinced Cera will forever be typecast in that role. His upcoming role in Juno puts him in the scandalous (if not still awkward) role of an accidental teen father-to-be, and his online series Clarke and Michael exercises his smart, creative abilities (Cera co-created and co-writes the series with BFF Clark Duke). Despite the obvious awkwardness of Cera’s characters, they are also layered with sweetness, hints of confidence, and restlessness. I think the kid will do just fine. That being said, even if he was typecast as George Michael forever, I still might be okay with it.
2. Facebook: I actually secretly hate Facebook. I even love to hate it. I’ve had a Facebook account for almost a full year, and have deactivated it then reactivated it no fewer than three times. I don’t have unstable relationships like that in my life, so I use the virtual site that houses those otherwise impossible relationships (old hometown friends, relatives, etc.) as the recipient of my aggression. I’ve waxed philosophical about the (anti)social implications of Facebook, but simply put, it just annoys me. So why include it on my Top Ten list? I don’t know. Probably the same reason I would have put the Gallagher brothers on my list in the late nineties: just because I don’t always like something, doesn’t mean it is without cultural value. Facebook fascinates me, and unless you believe the user-created groups that seem to have replaced Hotmail chain letters, it isn’t going away.
3. The Darjeeling Limited, directed by Wes Anderson: Is this too predictable of me? I don’t watch Wes Anderson’s films critically. I see them the way a young girl sees her parents: reliable, comforting, perfect. Perhaps safe? There were definitely no risks here; Anderson flexed every one of his strengths (cast, one-liners, aesthetics, and of course, music), and his strengths in this movie are pulverizing. The director’s choices are as deliberate as ever, and some might argue obvious (themes of baggage and healing), but see the film and you’ll see it couldn’t have been done any other way. Why bury these symbols? If they weren’t obvious they would probably be pretentious. It’s funny, and smart, but not too smart—just sweet. Perfection.
4. Ted Leo (Album: Living with the Living + Shows: May & October, Mod Club, Toronto): Punk rock is alive and well, and it goes by the name Ted Leo. His latest album with band the Pharmacists is sometimes scathing, sometimes sentimental, always scrappy. When I first heard the album it left me uneasy; it sometimes feels like Leo’s societal anger is outrunning the limits of the songs this time around, causing him to trip and stumble. Seeing the band live is a different experience. Always amiable and engaging, but never goofy, Leo’s humane passion (plus insane volume levels and magical feet that Elvis Costello would envy) offsets any potential coldness of the material. It’s a good balance. Also cool: watching the band set up their own (minimal) gear and letting us in on the joke that they have been asked to wait to go on, so “we’ll be right there, side stage, waiting for a few minutes.”
5. American Hardcore (DVD): Like a treasure chest overflowing with all the bands I always meant to get into but haven’t yet, this is a focused recount of the Hardcore scene of the eighties that never suffers under nostalgia and benefits from the remaining credibility of a lot of the people involved. I still have yet to watch the additional performance material! Not in the least intimidating, this is a handy reference guide for Minor Threat fanatics like me who want to know more overall about this visceral scene, and I can only assume it is just as enjoyable and refreshing for long-time Hardcore fanatics.
6. 6. Matthew Good (Album: Hospital Music + Ongoing web presence): There is a lot to be said for someone who so willingly puts himself on the line, every single time. Is it an incomprehensible amount of confidence? Or the opposite: the bottom, the point you reach where you have no choice but to think that it doesn’t matter? Good’s latest album is not an easy listen. As he reached that end—near fatality, almost (accidentally?) overdosing after a yearlong divorce battle and a lifelong misdiagnosed mental illness—he produced his most challenging but most important work to date. First, he released an album. A real, consistent, start-to-finish, long play. Second, he released a sincere, emotional document of that time in his life, a non-commercially appealing piece of art from a commercial artist. During the whole process, Good faithfully maintained his socially relevant, very intelligent, fan-participatory website, at one point even stating that the Internet was probably his best friend. Often criticized for (among many things) not keeping his music and politics separate, this is a man whose art comes from so far inside, his hyper-awareness of the world outside is likely a saving grace.
7. Rilo Kiley, Under the Blacklight: Rilo Kiley released their first album in 2001. Singer Jenny Lewis released a solo album in early 2006, and man, was I obsessed with it for a long time. Until this spring, actually. It is that album to which I credit my late-blooming love of Rilo Kiley. Under the Blacklight isn’t just a departure from the band’s rootsy-indie-sound: they sound completely different. Big-budget production can do that to a degree, but the band wanted this turnaround. They wanted this album to sound like a party, and it does. It’s one of those albums that, upon first listen, you sort of part your lips and squint your eyes and crinkle your nose in confusion; it’s just that different. Then on the third or fourth rotation, you know all the words and all of a sudden you’re a disco queen, dancing like a fool, and different be damned, it sounds great. Groundbreaking? No. But it is brave and confident (not cocky), which is a rare treat. Disposable? Maybe. I can play this album for just about anyone and they love it. But for all its accessibility, for some reason, this album and this band are still really cool.
8. MTV Live (on MTV Canada: tapes and airs live at 6 p.m. EST, Monday–Thursday): Seriously. Bottom line, this is smart programming wrapped up in dumb—and, yes, sometimes annoying—packaging. When MTV re-launched under new ownership in Canada, it branded itself as a talk station to get broadcast approval. MuchMusic (Canada’s long-running music television institution) was going through its own transitional struggle, and continued to show a lack of faith in its once original and engaging programming. They scrambled to keep up with MTV, and fell flat on their faces. Where MuchMusic failed, MTV flourished: they had relatable hosts, relevant guests, both popular and up-and-coming acts (with emphasis on national and local talent), and still featured lots of new music. Wisely, they also aired the show online, where their audience goes for new music anyway. MTV Live doesn’t try to be something it isn’t. Never at a loss for content, the show has a fun, natural ease. It’s too bad this is only an hour of daily programming, because I might actually watch and get something out of it, something I will never get from The Real World. And guess what? MTV ended up buying MuchMusic anyway. Seriously.
9. Chuck Klosterman: I was introduced to Klosterman in late 2006. I was given his third book, Killing Yourself to Live, for my birthday, from a good friend who couldn’t believe I hadn’t already known and loved him. I quickly read that book, and 2007 was gloriously spent obsessively consuming the rest of his catalogue. Never have I laughed so often—literally out loud and uncontrollably—at written words. This probably sounds very obvious, especially if you’ve read any of his books. But his work isn’t just funny, it’s satisfying. Klosterman’s writing is educational, weird, and although a little distant (in a coolly detached way) at times, it feels friendly. Like that smart, weird, distant friend you have in your life, who makes you so angry sometimes, but never actually does anything wrong to you. You just get frustrated at how smart he/she is. Not in an envious way, in a friendly competitive way, because you can never be right, and you’re always the one left nodding, thinking, “Huh. I never thought of it that way!” But in the end it’s okay because ultimately, that friendship is truthful and simple and fun. Just like Klosterman’s writing.
10. Heartbreak: Fine—I’ll admit—this one is personal. And probably a little lame. But think about it: what better way to relate to and attain a whole new level of appreciation out of 99% of the music, movies, television, and books I consume than to be suffering along with the art! Ladies and gentleman, you have my sympathy, my empathy, my lifelong ear. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on, and you can be mine. Oh, what tortured artistic bliss! Right? Right? Now if you’ll excuse me, there is a box of cookies waiting for me in the kitchen.

NEXT: Less Lee Moore’s list

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