Pelone's top 10 albums of 2006

By Joe Pelone
Collegian Editor
January 24, 2007

10) Armalite’s Armalite – In less than 25 minutes, Armalite’s eponymous debut proves that a) Supergroups are not always a bad idea, b) Atom and His Package would’ve sounded great as a hardcore band and c) Dr. Dan Yemin continues to be infallible.

9) The Falcon’s Unicornography – Slapstick alumni Dan Andriano and Brendan Kelly reunite to provide the world with yet another great Chicago punk record.

8) +44’s When Your Heart Stops Beating – Ex-blink-182 troubadour Mark Hoppus goes from aping The Descendents to Duran Duran and The Cure, providing the best synth rock since Rio.

7) Brand New’s The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me – Bitter Long Island emo duder Jesse Lacey just keeps getting weirder. But his work on The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me, with its swirling guitars and sullen lyrics, are proof that at least he can still rock out.

6) Band of Horses’ Everything All the Time – Beautiful, haunting and ethereal, Band of Horses are a solid indie band with some top notch Southern hooks in their arsenal. Easy-going singles “The Funeral” and “Great Salt Lake” both sum up the album perfectly – soft but forceful, elegant but rocking.

5) The Secret Machines’ Ten Silver Drops – Slightly tweaking the ambient sound they showcased on Now Here is Nowhere, The Secret Machines turned in a lucid, drug-fueled work of heartache with Ten Silver Drops. Like a more emotive Pink Floyd, The Secret Machines are atmospheric and straight up hypnotic. Not just because of the playing, but also because of the sympathy/empathy involved. It’s a break-up record… on acid.

4) AFI’s Decemberunderground – You can play any two successive AFI albums back-to-back, and it more or less sounds like the same band. However, the band has changed it up with Decemberunderground, and the dramatic shift is mind-blowing. Most of it is tuneful and dark, fitting right in with Ladytron and The Cure’s “Dark Trilogy.” But there are also elements of glam rock, punk and emo hanging out. Even a touch of hip-hop and hardcore come, in the form of the opening tracks, “Prelude 12/21” and “Kill Caustic,” respectively.

3) Thursday’s A City By the Light Divided – Unlike their ’90s forefathers, “emo” bands this year embraced pomp and melodrama like whoa. My Chemical Romance tried to be Queen and Panic! at the Disco tried to be… the emo Cirque de Soleil, I guess. But not enough people gave props to Thursday for being the “emo U2” with 2006’s A City By the Light Divided. Passionate and purposeful, this album is a huge, but logical, digression away from War All the Time. This stuff is much more hopeful (a la The Joshua Tree, in spirit at least). Thursday always had a commanding presence, but this is the first time I’d call their songs “epic.”

2) Regina Spektor’s Begin to Hope [Special Edition] – Regina Spektor’s studio spit-shined disc, Begin to Hope is a radical departure from her first three albums. Not as weird, awkward or insular, this is her crossover pop album. But don’t mistake it for a “sellout” maneuver. Begin to Hope is a totally natural move for Spektor. Songs like “Fidelity,” “Summer in the City” and “On the Radio” are all as glistening and wonderful as older favorites like “Us” or “Carbon Monoxide.” But, listeners still get Spektor’s quirkiness intact, thanks to old live faves like “That Time” or the special edition-only track, “Uh-merica.” I have no problem with her suddenly being embraced by VH1, Barnes and Noble and Delia’s-loving teenage girls, because Spektor totally deserves the hype.

1) The Mountain Goats’ Get Lonely – John Darnielle, who also made his way into the Collegian’s “Best Albums of 2005” list, delivers another mellow folky soon-to-be-classic with Get Lonely. His previous effort, The Sunset Tree, dealt with Darnielle’s mixed feelings towards his abusive stepfather’s death. Get Lonely is that album’s companion piece, dealing with the aftermath. After his stepfather’s funeral, Darnielle struggles to move on over the course of 12 tracks. But amid the quiet introspection, The Mountain Goats provide anthems. Lines like the simple chorus from “Half Dead,” which reads, “Can’t get you out of my head / Lost without you / Half dead,” are conveyed with such emotion, resignation, and at the same time determination, that it’s nearly impossible not to bond with this record. It’s sad-sack music, but it’s the most gloriously sad-sack music since Morrissey himself.

pelonej1@lasalle.edu