Hmm, I guess I should probably do one of these lists, since it’s about that time. I was a very active music sampler in 2007, but unlike last year, I didn’t find a whole lot of stuff to listen to over and over (with the exception of #2, below). Instead, I found a few slow burners on the CD player. Hey, I’ll take ‘em. 2007 was good for music. Since I turn 32 in a few days, I’ll make this a list of 32, with 10 big ones.

1. PJ Harvey, White Chalk. I’ve been a PJH fan since the beginning, but the last couple of albums seem to have sunk out sight quickly. Maybe she thought so, too, because this year she rehired her old producers, ditched the guitar and learned the piano, and pushed her vocals into a higher range.

Sounds gimmicky, maybe… but it worked. Simply put, it’s a batch of simple little piano songs, 11 tracks clocking in at only 33 minutes. I’ve heard it compared to early Tori Amos, but I don’t think so. It’s minimalistic and intimate, almost like Radiohead, though of course nothing like them musically. Call it Harvey’s Amnesiac. Or better, it’s like the between-the-cracks songs on Harvey’s earlier albums (”The River,” “I Think I’m a Mother” and “We Float,” for example). Gives me a new appreciation for those old songs.

I dunno… I wonder if maybe this is what Harvey was meant to do all along. The big question is what she’s going to do next: new PJ, old PJ, or version 3.0?

2. Blonde Redhead, 23. On their last album, Misery Is a Butterfly, Blonde Redhead sounded a little uncomfortable in their skin. They’d just made a major transition from quirky indie-punk to something considerably more big-budgeted and polished, but they didn’t seem ready to fit their unconventional musicianship into the formula. This year they stepped back a bit, self-produced their album, and hired Alan Moulder (who’d previously smoothed over pop transitions for Nine Inch Nails and Curve) to mix. The result is a cohesive pop album with more than its share of standout tracks: “23,” “The Dress,” “SW,” “Silently,” “My Impure Hair.”

I’ve heard comparisons to My Bloody Valentine (another Moulder client), but I think only casual MBV listeners would accept that. Instead, their transformation is more like that of Curve’s Come Clean: the band’s first serious attempt to be both cutting-edge and accessible. Yup, it worked.

3. Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, Raising Sand. So much for the death of the album. Here’s yet another example of an album that begs to be heard as a whole because of ambitious yet wise choices underlying the production of the whole thing. In this case, it was producer T-Bone Burnett’s decision to take bluegrass’ strongest quality—minimalism—and emphasize it for dramatic effect. Raising Sand is a simple album of cover songs, but its mood is just a little off-kilter—eerie and bleak in places, like Burnett’s soundtrack to O Brother, Where Art Thou?. This is especially true on the plaintive verses sung by only one of the vocalists, such as on “Sister Rosetta,” “Trampled Rose” and “Nothin’.”

Straight bluegrass can get a little dull at times (IMHO), but the production makes this album perfect mood music—oh, and Krauss and Plant are kinda talented, by the way.

4. Radiohead, In Rainbows. You can finally buy this album again: the download experiment ended awhile ago, but New Year’s Day marked the release of the CD.

With all of this self-release craziness, the actual album has been overlooked. That’s a shame, because it’s a really great album with real songs—the experimentation of the past decade has been toned down a little, and what’s left over is mostly, uh, rock (or at least Radiohead’s version of it). Even though it’s their eighth release, this might end up being a good introduction to them. That’s a good thing, because I almost lost track of the band after 2002’s Hail to the Thief, which was solid but a little stagnant.

5. Dot Allison, Exaltation of Larks. Hmm… I’ve read good and bad reviews of this album, and I’m inclined to agree with all of them. The album is good if you consider Allison’s dance-pop background with legendary Scottish group One Dove, as well as her two previous solo albums. It’d be hard to find two back-to-back albums by the same artist that are more different than 2002’s We Are Science (an intentionally geeky dance album) and this collection of stripped-down folk songs. Never much for songwriting, Allison is suddenly paying serious attention to her lyrics and musicianship. In many ways Exaltation of Larks is a creative reawakening for her.

On the other hand, her previous work, musically suspicious as it might have been, was still head and shoulders over 95% of everything else out there, so it’s kind of disappointing to lose it. And this album seems to run out of steam and start sounding a little samey toward the end—so much so that it makes you rethink whether you actually liked it at the beginning. But don’t give up. I think the best plan is just to skip a couple of tracks (I suggest 5, 7 and 9) to keep it from wearing out. Turn it into a really, really good EP.

6. Devendra Banhart, Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon. Damn, it must be fun to be Devendra. He plays any style he wants, sings about anything he wants, plays any obscure instruments he wants. Clearly uninterested in pop success, he’s switched off his internal editor. Good for him. This album has enough variety for six albums, yet it all bears his weird signature style. Some favorites: “So Long Old Bean,” “Sea Horse” and “Saved.” Of course, risks sometimes don’t pay off (e.g. “Lover”—jangly white indie-funk sucks, dude), but there are 16 tracks to play with, so skipping a few doesn’t hurt.

7. Elliott Smith, New Moon. Elliott Smith committed suicide more than four years ago, so this isn’t really new, but for a collection of unreleased tracks, it’s surprisingly good. Most of the selections seem to be from the either/or era: the big production of Smith’s later albums is absent. These small, intimate songs are matched by some of Elliott’s most bitter and self-deprecating tunes (try “Looking Over My Shoulder” and “Georgia, Georgia” if you’re feeling cynical). But mixed in are some beautiful alternate versions of old tunes, as well as a stunningly simple cover of Big Star’s “Thirteen.” I knew that was a good song, but was surprised to find out it was a great one.

8. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Baby 81. Okay, I guess nothing much is surprising about BRMC these days. Their sound is familiar, the lyrics cover the same territory, and their love of repeating lines three times is especially strong here. But thanks to their last album, Howl (an experiment with mostly acoustic music), I think they’re quietly growing as musicians. A song like “Windows,” almost Beatle-esque in its sound, would’ve been out of their range a few years ago. And how about “All You Do Is Talk”? A stunning song, buried right in the middle of the album. Every once in awhile, BRMC has some surprises.

9. Wilco, Sky Blue Sky. Man, everybody’s calming down these days. This album is a solid set of quiet pop songs, minus the experimentation and angst of A Ghost is Born. No jokes or sly digs here: instead, the album sounds middle-aged, settled and positive (yes, that can be a good thing): Jeff Tweedy is a better Paul McCartney than the real one.

10. M83, Digital Shades, Vol. 1. Just in case you thought I’d aged drastically over the past year, the rest of this list gets back to good old alt-rock and electronica. The best of the experimental albums has to be M83’s first foray into ambient music. Typically, this band’s work is somewhere in Air/Boards of Canada territory with dramatic bursts of sound. But here, the drums have disappeared, and the melodies are layered and pattern-based. The references to pop songs—the whole pop aesthetic, really—have vanished as well. It’s ambient in the original sense of the genre: Brian Eno is definitely the primary influence, though his work is generally less predictable than this. This album is definitely an attempt at something different, and probably won’t signal a new direction for the band (it’s more of an Anthony Gonzalez solo project), but it’s one of the best ambient albums I’ve heard since the 90s. And if it’s too different for you, no problem: it’s only half an hour long.

11. Underworld, Oblivion with Bells
12. Modest Mouse, We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank
13. Sigur Rós, Hvarf/Heim
14. Scott Walker, And Who Shall Go to the Ball? And What Shall Go to the Ball?
15. MIA, Kala
16. Dinosaur Jr, Beyond
17. Múm, Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy
18. Air, Pocket Symphony
19. Mark Knopfler, Kill to Get Crimson
20. Kanye West, Graduation
21. Stars, In Our Bedroom After the War
22. The Smashing Pumpkins, Zeitgeist
23. Bright Eyes, Cassadega
24. The White Stripes, Icky Thump
25. Jay-Z, American Gangster
26. Animal Collective, Strawberry Jam
27. The Shins, Wincing the Night Away
28. LCD Soundsystem, Sound of Silver
29. Iron and Wine, The Shepherd’s Dog
30. Aereogramme, My Heart Has a Wish that You Would Not Go
31. Lupe Fiasco, The Cool
32. Feist, The Reminder (yeah, I give up…she’s unavoidable)

EDIT: Oh yeah, another one to consider: Minnie Driver’s Seastories. Perhaps the only good CD by a movie star ever.

Missed in 2006 (should’ve paid more attention, I guess)
Darker My Love, Darker My Love
David Gilmour, On an Island
Pink, I’m Not Dead
Tom Waits, Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers and Bastards

Looking forward to in 2008 (some of these seem to appear every year… geez, put out your albums already!)
My Bloody Valentine, Massive Attack (summer), Portishead (spring), Doves, Elbow (March), Gutter Twins (Dulli/Lanegan) (March 4), Sigur Rós, M83, Serena-Maneesh, Rob Dickinson, Boards of Canada