WITH THE ENTERTAINMENT awards season in full swing (the current Writers Guild strike notwithstanding), guest contributor Jake Seeley and Gargoyle senior editor Carl Zielinski offered their choices last week for the best albums of 2007. Now, not to be outdone, entertainment editors Erin Hayes and Kumars Salehi join in with their selections.

Erin Hayes’ best of 2007

10. “Untrue” — Burial (Hyperdub)
A collection of nearly-wordless zone-out music, “Untrue” is the type of album I don’t usually listen to in my spare time. However, I can’t deny that it has merit. There’s something very singular about its pace; the music ebbs and flows much like thoughts do. Every song has a natural core rhythm that blends well with consciousness. Building on that core is an impeccable, multilayered rhythmic and ambient construction that, unlike much of electronic music, was never meant to be danced to. One has to limit oneself to listening. But listening to this album isn’t actually limiting at all. The scarce presence of lyrics makes for a breeding ground of poignant impressionism, and indeed, that’s what emerges. The track “In McDonalds” exemplifies this quality, and is a high point of the record. Its lumbering tune, complemented by static, illustrates the enchantment of a chance meeting; subsequently, a mere two lines of lyrics smash that enchantment into a throbbing pile of disillusionment: “Once upon a time it’s you I know … / You look different.” This record is tasteful and interesting, but, due to its nature, can be very restrictive at times. It is not for everybody, and certainly not for every situation.

9. “Hey Hey My My Yo Yo” — Junior Senior (Rykodisc)
Like many of the dance music releases of 2007, “Hey Hey My My Yo Yo” can get insufferably repetitive and frustrating. In fact, I would say that because Junior Senior’s latest release is filled with obnoxiously bright, disco-infused pop and rap, it has more of a capacity to drive a listener up the wall (or into it, as it were — when I try to listen to the album all the way through, I end up wanting to bash my head into a wall to make it stop). Even so, I think that Junior Senior one-upped most of the other dance groups. They took their concept to an extreme, and although it can be annoying at times, it is unique and incredibly fresh when enjoyed in moderation. Also, there was a key subtlety to the album’s spirit of joy and liberation: collaboration with openly queer musicians. Kate Pierson, famed singer of the B-52’s and a known lesbian, is featured on one of the tracks. And Le Tigre’s JD Samson, a lesbian with an androgynous stage persona, performs vocals on the album’s biggest track, “Can I Get Get Get.” Their openness about their sexuality (not to mention Jeppe “Senior” Laursen’s — he’s gay) influences the just-let-go-and-have-fun feel of the record. Like the music of the B-52’s, the music on this record is unusual and silly at times. But, also like the B-52’s, it is likely that Junior Senior’s songs will be heard at parties for years to come.

8. “Beyond” — Dinosaur Jr. (Fat Possum)
“Beyond” is not a perfect album by any means. In fact, parts of the record forego style almost entirely, relying too much on traditional song structure and Dinosaur Jr.’s sense of melody. But, despite these unfortunate moments (and a somewhat out of character acoustic ballad), the high points of this album make it worthy of a spot on the top 10. When processing this album, it’s important to remember that it’s the first release the original lineup of Dinosaur Jr. have dropped in almost 20 years. As such, this record is particularly impressive. The band saturated it with the feedback fuzz and radical guitar solos old fans crave, but stepped outside their box on a couple of occasions. Some of these experiments worked, and, predictably, some didn’t. Luckily, their misadventures were only thorns to a musical rose. “Beyond” contains several tracks that demonstrate what we all hoped: The gang’s still got it. “Almost Ready,” the opening track, is a classic Dinosaur Jr. anthem, complete with a wall of sound and lyrics proclaiming that “I’m not right.” Singer-guitarist J Mascis’ vulnerability comes out in the charming “This Is All I Came To Do,” and their Sonic Youth influence shows itself in “Lightning Bulb” (Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore are thanked in the liner notes). Possibly the best track on the album, “Been There All The Time,” sounds like it could have come out of 1987, rather than 2007. Now that Dinosaur Jr. are complete again, they can not only shine as they used to, but begin to move forward. It’s about time.

7. “Strawberry Jam” — Animal Collective (Domino)
With “Strawberry Jam,” you have to leave your expectations at the door. If you let the album take you where it will, you will enjoy it; otherwise, I guarantee you will be turned off almost immediately, as I was initially by the hectic intro to the opening track, “Peacebone” (I’m not a seasoned Animal Collective fan, so I was waiting for every track to sashay out of the speakers like “Leaf House”). Don’t get me wrong; “Peacebone” may have an abrasive beginning, but it is one of several great songs on “Strawberry Jam.” One of the best songs, “Cuckoo Cuckoo,” captures the pain, apprehension, and perverse ecstasy of being driven slowly insane, using pounding, arrhythmic drums, beautifully erratic vocal melodies, a strangely calm piano loop, and unpredictable glitches that evoke the voices of a schizophrenic hallucination. Another strong track, “Derek,” closes the record on an incredibly life-affirming note; its strange lyrics (referring to a Sheltie: “Wrap your peckers what he told us / me and Mike looked at each other / Like whoa what was that then”) give way to a refreshingly primordial beat-and-chant. All in all, this record is quite good, even though it wasn’t what I expected. It’s perfect for any open-minded listener.

6. “Sound of Silver” — LCD Soundsystem (Capitol)
Were it not for the final song on this album, it would not have made my top 10. Yes, the record is replete with contemporary dance rock of the highest caliber, but when I was creating this list, I was fed up with the ubiquity of dance music among the supposedly worthwhile releases of last year. To be fair, the first eight songs of the album are infectious and intelligent. The eponymous track walks all over the attitude often associated with dance music: “Sound of silver, talk to me / Makes you want to feel like a teenager / Until you remember the feelings of / A real live emotional teenager / Then you think again.” But I maintain that the real prize here is the overwhelmingly underwhelming humor of “New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down.” Because the rest of the record is filled with hip, energetic dance, one would expect the album to go out with a bang, or at least something of the same genre. But instead, the grand finale reveals itself as an out-of-tune, piano-fueled serenade to the city of New York. It caught me completely off guard. For a while, I thought it was going to morph into a dance tune. I sat frozen, staring at my boombox for about 30 seconds, until I realized that the song was going to stick to its guns. At that point, my heart rejoiced. James Murphy doesn’t take himself too seriously! “What the hell is wrong with you?” I found myself laughing to the machine. But I said it only in loving jest. That hilarious “F-U” to convention is what makes this album worthwhile.

5. “Icky Thump” — The White Stripes (Warner Bros.)
Essentially, “Icky Thump” is a great record because it goes back to the basics of what makes rock ’n’ roll good. Almost any variety of early rock can be heard on the album: from folk to protopunk, blues to hard rock (personally, I hear a lot of Velvet Underground and Led Zeppelin). For the most part, the album sticks with the drums and guitars that made the Stripes famous in the first place, but other touches come out on occasion, like the blaring trumpets of the epic “Conquest.” Agitated, shrieking guitars attack from within a surprising gentleness in tracks like “300 M.P.H. Torrential Outpour Blues,” and tracks like “Icky Thump” and “Rag & Bone” smite the listener with sarcasm and socially conscious wit: “But we got plenty of places to go, lots of homes we ain’t been to yet / on the west side, the southwest side, Middle East, rich house, dog house, outhouse / old folks house, house for unwed mothers, halfway homes, catacombs, twilight zones.” This is the most straight up-and-down rock album of the year, and every fan of rock music should check it out.

4. “Kala” — M.I.A. (Interscope)
When it comes to M.I.A.’s music, I would never deny what I once heard Carl Zielinski say: “This is cracked out.” But, in my opinion, this is a good thing. Every once in a while somebody needs to make a crazy-ass album that is fun and outrageous (“Sex Packets,” anyone?), and “Kala” fills that niche. It is impossible to listen to this album without moving. African drums, didgeridoo, and South Asian vocal styles pop in and out of the record, combining with M.I.A.’s British accent to give it a worldly edge. Take all that, fuse it with drugs, politics, pop culture references, hip-hop, dance, and a punk ethos, and you have the essence of “Kala.” Now think about it … Doesn’t that sound great for parties? Trust me, it is. And really, it’s great for any time when you need a bit of energy or attitude. The entire effort is deliciously kitschy.

3. “Mirrored” — Battles (Warp)
Battles have been described as everything from “math rock” to “future funk,” but thankfully, they’ve managed to transcend the ranks of stereotypically genre-bending bands that currently saturate the underground. What distinguishes Battles from the pack is the fact that, while they have an all-important twist of Animal Collective freakiness, they are able to rock in the traditional sense. Even if you took away the aspirate hiccupping, bird-chirping samples, sleigh bells, and sci-fi electronics, you would find a group with undeniable talent — one with an understanding of music I think almost any rock purist would acknowledge. Essentially, what Battles have done is to make calculation fun and accessible. They base their sound in the structure of scales and over-the-top rhythms, executed immaculately on the drums and keyboards. Then, they add a layer of grit with rhythm guitar accents. Eventually, they incorporate elfish vocal distortions and other catchy tricks, luring in listeners with a bit of excitement outside the patterns. It all results in a sort of crazed coalescence. In any case, there isn’t a bad track on this record. It’s a brilliant debut.

2. “Boxer” — The National (Beggars Banquet)
“Boxer” is a rare record that carries the listener gracefully through an entire phase of life. With active drumming, tuneful pianos, and the velvety depth of Matt Berninger’s voice, The National reveal the majesty in the trials of young adulthood. Musically, “Boxer” is probably the most agreeable release of 2007; I find several of my other top picks to be extremely irritating if played at the wrong time, but it’s hard to imagine getting that fed up with this album. It is so lyrical — its content normal, but its depiction lovely — that it’s almost impossible for it to come off badly. The themes of “Boxer” are those which could occupy the life of any twentysomething: working your first office job, falling in and out of love, going out and partying with friends. But The National make these things magical: “Tiptoe through our shiny city / with our diamond slippers on / do our gay ballet on ice / bluebirds on our shoulders.” While Matt Berninger is critical at times of these romanticized escapades and the rejection of responsibility, he often falls into that youthful mindset himself. The struggle against (and occasional agreement with) these ideas is ultimately what the album is about, as best articulated by a line from “Mistaken For Strangers”: “Surprise, surprise, they wouldn’t wanna watch / another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults.”

1. “23” — Blonde Redhead (4AD)
The lady and gentlemen of Blonde Redhead composed quite the record in 2007. On “23,” they manage to strike an impressive balance between cold lucidity and cushy dreaminess by combining distorted noise-guitars with echoing percussion, piano overtones, and Kazu Makino’s melodic, high-pitched vocals. Their sound can actually be quite ambient at times, but touches like woodblocks and maracas provide that gentle waking shake which maintains the album’s immediacy. Additionally, the easily digested song lengths (a little more than four minutes each on average) prevent the listener from drifting. But the greatest thing about “23” is that it gets better the more you listen to it. At first I was a bit disappointed by it, because I was listening primarily for the more accessible songs like the title track and “Silently.” I left it largely alone for a few weeks, listening to a couple of tracks here and there, and by the time I listened to the entire record again I couldn’t find a song I didn’t like. If you’re willing to take time and let this album grow on you, I would highly recommend it. It’s a real gem.

Kumars Salehi’s best of 2007

10. “The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust!” — Saul Williams (Self-released)
As odd as it might sound, a Saul Williams album produced entirely by Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor is fitting. Some might even call it, well, inevitable. In any case, no matter what one’s expectations are going in, “The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust!” is freakishly beautiful. The antithesis to the pitiful nu-metal craze initiated by Fred Durst and his ilk, “Niggy Tardust!” reveals hip-hop poet Williams to be one of the very few hip-hop artists out there who actually justifies such a rap-rock collaboration, and Reznor to be one of the very few composers eclectic and unpredictable enough to produce it. It doesn’t hurt that Williams and Reznor are likely the two angriest guys in the recording industry today — in fact, their sonic disdain bleeds through the queasy synths, dirty bass, and anguished sermonizing to such a degree that it forms both the musical backbone and the thematic foundation for the record. Such an album can only be classed as a success, as the two parties play off each other with almost flawless results, all without Reznor stepping out of his studio and Williams stepping off his pulpit.

9. “Sound of Silver” — LCD Soundsystem (Capitol)
It is generally acknowledged that James Murphy is a man more respected for his record collection than any actual musical ability. Though he wasn’t doing anything particularly fresh or innovative musically, his rough electro-rock aesthetic and earnest sampling made LCD Soundsystem’s self-titled debut a drunken house party of a dance album. “Sound of Silver” is the sound of Murphy’s aging hipster examining his life in the context of his beloved New York City, simultaneously smirking and recoiling with a Clipse-worthy “yeuch.” The sex, the drugs, the criminally funky basslines — the things that make James Murphy’s world go ‘round are still here, but they are even more musically fascinating surrounded by fond memories, bitter regret, existential ponderings, and the tip of a midlife crisis iceberg. Though the sonic refinement and sophistication of the record — ostensibly a sign of maturation on Murphy’s part — is the most apparent shift from the debut, what cements its evolution into a complete sound for LCD is Murphy’s discovery of his lyrical niche. He employs shamelessly deadpan irony to at once reject the sensibilities of the indie scene from which he has graduated and unpretentiously embrace the depth — and danceability — of the sounds of growing old.

8. “Dirty Acres” — CunninLynguists (QN5, Inc.)
The likes of Talib Kweli and Common have been trying to spark a return to the jazz-rap glory days of “Native Tongues” and “A Tribe Called Quest” for years, and cemented their failure to reinvigorate the genre in the mainstream this year with two more additions (the mediocre “Eardrum” and the pitiful “Finding Forever,” respectively) to their stagnant discographies. If anyone has the talent and hunger to spearhead such a return to art-hop, however, 2007 has proven them to be CunninLynguists. Going from immensely talented goofballs to sophisticated entertainers over the course of three increasingly strong albums, the Kentucky outfit have failed to buck this delightful trend: “Dirty Acres” is the most compelling piece of out-and-out underground hip-hop since GZA made an entire album about chess. Instead of traveling down the beaten path and employing predictably jazzy, nostalgic quasi-R&B tracks as a crutch, producer Kno’s ever-evolving loops and carefully nuanced drums create a soundscape that, rather than sounding like it wishes it were made in ’92, actually sounds like something the Leaders of the New School would go berserk over. Deacon the Villain is still a top MC, but Natti, credited as a full member after joining the group on 2005’s “A Piece of Strange,” is the star of the lyrical show, pouring his syrupy Southern drawl over Kno’s gorgeous compositions without a hint of insincerity or pretension. It’s not perfect, but for an underground scene mired in the past, “Dirty Acres” is a step in the right direction.

7. “In Rainbows” — Radiohead (Self-released)
For the better part of a decade, Thom Yorke and his merry band have responded to their immense popularity by unsuccessfully aping the aesthetics of their innovative masterpieces (I’m looking at you, “Amnesiac”) and experimenting to the point where making good music seemed less important than making different music. “In Rainbows” is a survivor of that period and an antithesis to the innovation-hungry musical journey that saw Radiohead release their two best records followed by their two worst — the album does away with Yorke’s fixation with electronica in the first 40 seconds of the opening track. The rest of the record is a perfectly sequenced, minimalist revival of unrecorded concert favorites and skeletal new compositions that unravel new melodies and dimensions out of thin air. The instrumentation is still class and Yorke is still the brilliant paragon of alienation, but the blind desire to experiment is gone, replaced by a comfort that allows the band to sound subtle while firing on all cylinders.

6. “The Big Doe Rehab” — Ghostface Killah (Def Jam)
Every year, I become more and more comfortable with the thought of having facial hair, and every year Dennis Coles becomes a more and more fascinating artist to listen to. Though “The Big Doe Rehab” admittedly pales in comparison to last year’s crack-rap monolith “Fishscale,” New York’s amoral prince and the most important MC in hip-hop once again asserted his dumbfounding consistency with another bizarre helping of expressionistic free-associative rhymes, crime stories as vivid and harrowing as any gangster film, and Ghost’s own impeccable taste in music. From the rollicking funk of “Supa GFK” to the silky class and humility of album-closing bonus track “Slow Down,” Ghost’s self-aware, emotive raps and love of pure sound overpower the occasional misstep. Fifteen years after kicking off the opening track of the Wu-Tang Clan’s legendary debut, Ghostface’s discography has actually eclipsed that of the entire Wu-Tang collective. Out of the myriad reasons for Coles’ immunity to the Wu’s decade-long creative slump, the most significant is that Ghostface the artist, the storyteller, the colorful prism of a man through whom a complex world is reflected, is constantly changing. For those who claim hip-hop is dead as well as those who see it is alive and well, “The Big Doe Rehab” is just what the doctor ordered.

5. “Graduation” — Kanye West (Roc-A-Fella)
It’s ironic, and somewhat telling, that Kanye West’s most accomplished record yet should be the one that’s underrated. “Graduation” is, in a typical Kanye paradox, both a continuation of and opposition to past accomplishments — though he has retained Jon Brion’s affinity for lush, orchestral arrangements, he takes the album to sonic depths “Late Registration” could not have fathomed. West juxtaposes his signature soul-infused tracks with further experimentation, exploring the musical possibilities of spitting over electronica and borrowing German pop-rock tunes for a bizarre duet with Mos Def. His compositions have become noticeably more layered and ambitious, yet his obsession with inevitably flawed, grandiose epics has seemingly subsided — at a brisk 13 tracks, there’s not an ounce of fat here. The earnest confidence brought on by his success has actually made him a humbler man, allowing DJ Toomp (the virtuoso behind T.I.’s “What You Know”) to produce three of the album’s choicest cuts. Gone from this record is West’s predictable dichotomy of self-consciousness and arrogance — in its place is a far more compelling existential crisis that oozes through his celebratory raps. Contradiction is a staple of compelling hip-hop, and though Kanye’s had it for years, he’s just now got it right.

4. “Challengers” — The New Pornographers (Matador)
The New Pornographers’ first three records, all impeccable, are like soundtracks to a movie you wish existed but would never get made because it would have no discernible premise, much less a communicable plotline. It would likely be composed of only the most beautiful images anyone has ever seen, a pleasure-center overload that bypasses your snooty intellect and enraptures the part of you that dreams up impossible worlds. Their layered, melodically compelling style of power pop is consistently refreshing and textured yet warmly familiar enough that you feel you could have written it had you been, you know, more of a music kind of person. “Challengers,” the fourth LP from the Canadian indie supergroup, is the point in the film where it gets (somewhat) serious. The delightfully expressionistic lyricism of A.C. Newman and Neko Case is still romantically vague, but the propulsive, sugar-rush gibberish of “Electric Version” and “Sing Me Spanish Techno” has been replaced by the mellow, heartfelt gibberish of “Challengers” and “Go Places.” Even the tragically eccentric Destroyer frontman Dan Bejar, whose idiosyncratic contributions to the first three LPs have been a divisive issue among New Pornographers fans, has taken the proverbial chill pill, and his album closer “The Spirit of Giving” is arguably his strongest effort to date, with the band or elsewhere. Don’t call it a departure — it’s evolution, baby.

3. “American Gangster” — Jay-Z (Roc-A-Fella)
It was inspired by Ridley Scott’s heroin-trade epic of the same name, but “American Gangster” isn’t about Frank Lucas, and Jay-Z knows it. This album has been lurking in the back of Shawn Carter’s mind for years, and all he needed was that little spark for his genius to be reignited. The concept is flimsy, but it’s as good an excuse as any for what comes out of it — a lush, postmodern tapestry of life and legacy woven together by snarling wit, intricate rhyme schemes, and the sounds of the ’70s. It is when Jay-Z marries sonic depth with lyrical complexity that his music becomes more than the sum of its parts, and on his day he is not only one of the most fascinating artists to listen to but, all told, the most talented and accomplished man in hip-hop. Yes, he’s dreadfully inconsistent when it comes to records, but admit it — the constant “will he, won’t he?” makes you savor his successes because when he does, he does it so well. He hasn’t rapped like this in years — flexing his poetic muscles and falling back in love with language, gleefully pouring layer upon ephemeral layer of sound and meaning onto the Hitmen’s soulful compositions until he himself is just an instrument for thoughts and feelings you choose to absorb because you’re human, and despite what he would have you believe, so is he. Frankly, it doesn’t get much better than this.

2. “Icky Thump” — The White Stripes (Warner Bros.)
Not many bands release their career-defining magnum opus this long after their ascent (or descent, as the chronically snotty among us would say) into the mainstream. The White Stripes’ discography has, until now, been a testament to the push and pull of the opposing forces of garage rock traditionalism and eccentric experimentation. Each album has suffered from a lack of balance, either relying too heavily on solid classic-rock formula, or delving too deep into sonic exploration and coming up short musically. The planets were aligned this year, and Jack and Meg White have recorded the album they were born to make. They’ve nailed the ebb and flow of melody and cacophony to the degree that the pop songs are delightfully unpredictable and the experimental tracks are less experiments than sure-fire triumphs, quirky, bizarre, and raucous. The line between the yin and yang of the perfect White Stripes album is here blurred so successfully that nearly every track feels fresh and familiar at once — how else can one explain the elegance with which the pure energy of Jack’s yelping on “Bone Broke” gives way to succulent bagpipes and thumping tribal drums on the brilliantly executed “Prickly Thorn, But Sweetly Worn”? Or “300 M.P.H. Torrential Outpour Blues”’ harmony between the heavenly guitar lick that laces White’s delicate verses and the ungodly din of the bridge? Hint: If you think it’s luck, you don’t know Jack.

1. “Myth Takes” — !!! (Warp)
I’ve been listening to new records all year, but since March I’ve known that !!!’s (that’s pronounced “Chk Chk Chk”) third LP was the best record I would hear in 2007. That’s not a slight on other artists; it would be downright unfair to ask even the best band in the world to make an album like “Myth Takes.” The record is a validation of the album format in an MP3-based music culture: A rough, effortless spark pervades every minute of this album, unifying it and convincing you that something undeniably remarkable was going on during its recording. Visceral and funky on an organic and fundamental level, the album’s intelligence comes from the ease and sophistication with which Nic Offer’s tantalizing compositions both shine individually and bleed into each other in the most irresistibly creative ways possible. The record’s operation on a gut level allows Offer’s druggy vocals to take up the role of just another instrument, fading in and out of the ephemeral arrangements. The songs work something like a Wu-Tang Clan record — much like the vocals of each of the Wu’s members, each sound and instrument is woven together, with constantly shifting emphasis, for a whole whose arresting vibrance is matched only by the slow and eventual revelation of intricate sonic depth. Everything is here, even if you didn’t expect it to be: the unconventionally melodious Chili Peppers-aping “Sweet Life,” the throbbing, mercurial dance-floor funk of lead single “Heart of Hearts,” and the closing drugged-out ballad “Infinifold,” which doesn’t quite fit the frenetic pace of the rest of the record but feels like a refreshing splash of cool water on your face after a night of relentless merry-making. Expansive and epic despite its humble length, “Myth Takes” is genuinely flawless and the sort of masterwork that justifies everyone else’s attempts to make something as fresh, compelling, creative, and complex.