SD's 10 Best Albums of 2006

My year-end best-of gushathon runs in Friday's Floridian, complete with a heart-tugging, tear-drenched, snot-runny story about my concert of the year (Springsteen in New Orleans -- there's a twist at the end). I'll also provide honorable mention awards, snarky jokes and critical ho-hummery. For now, though, here's the bare-bones list of my Top 10. Commence...complaining...now:

10. Arctic Monkeys, Whatever People Say I Am... (Domino)
9. Gwen Stefani, The Sweet Escape (Interscope)
8. Bruce Springsteen, The Seeger Sessions (Columbia)
7. Fantasia, Fantasia (J Records)
6. Lupe Fiasco, Food & Liquor (Atlantic/WEA)
5. Kasabian, Empire (RCA)
4. My Chemical Romance, The Black Parade (Reprise)
3. Bob Dylan, Modern Times (Columbia)
2. Gnarls Barkley, St. Elsewhere (Downtown)
1. Wolfmother, Wolfmother (Interscope/Modular)

What's In Sean's Mailbox: FOW WOW

You know why 2007 is gonna be a good year? 'Cause the geni smarta--es in Fountains of Wayne (pictured here with Rachel "Stacy's Mom" Hunter) are gonna be all over the joint. Not only does the suburban-van-rocking quartet have a new album, Traffic and Weather, coming out this spring. But January kicks off with FOW leader Adam Schlesinger and buddy/former Smashing Pumpkin James Iha producing a great new disc from...America. That's right: The catchy SoCal soundsters are back with the 2CD Here and Now. What does it sound like? Imagine A Horse With No Name galloping thru a Newark strip mall. Or something like that.

Here's today's CD haul...

America -- Here & Now
Switchfoot -- Oh! Gravity
Trick Daddy -- Back by Thug Demand
Styles P -- Time Is Money
Pink, Fiona Apple -- L Tunes: Music From The L Word
Tracy Lawrence -- For the Love
Carly Simon -- Into White
Korn, Deftones -- The Family Values Tour 2006
Senses Fail -- Still Searching
Blake Shelton -- Pure BS
Matisyahu -- No Place to Be

Regrets: James Brown Edition

I never saw James Brown in concert. That's the first thing I thought of yesterday, when the Forever Fiancee told me the Godfather of Soul had died. The remembrances are pouring in today, of course, and almost all of them start and end with sweaty descriptions of James Brown strutting, spinning and wailing onstage, a regimen that legend says lost him 7-9 lbs. per gig. I had chances to see him over the years, but I never did, no good excuses either. He'll now join my short but sad list of folks I coulda, shoulda seen but never did: the Grateful Dead with Jerry Garcia, Ray Charles, Johnny Cash. In related news, Chuck Berry plays Moscow Jan. 17. Who's up for a road trip?

Nog Ya Head: SD's Christmas Playlist

Christmas would be a lot more fun if every wreath came with a cut-out of James Brown. (Author's Note: I have the gift of prophecy. Or death. I fear my power. And I deeply regret never seeing JB in concert.) Christmas would also be a lot more fun if every day I ate a giant satchel of chocolate-covered coffee beans LIKE I JUST DID. I'm wicked hyper. My coworkers are going to stab me. Ho, ho, ho, suckas.

Here's a killer Christmas playlist I threw together a few weeks ago. Enjoy.

1. Soulful Christmas -- James Brown
2. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) -- Death Cab for Cutie
3. Back Door Santa -- B.B. King
4. Christmas Is the Time to Say "I Love You" -- Billy Squier
5. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus -- John Mellencamp
6. That Spirit of Christmas -- Ray Charles
7. Santa Claus Is Back in Town -- Elvis Presley
8. Jingle Bells -- Brian Setzer Orchestra
9. The Happy Elf -- Harry Connick Jr.
10. Jingle Bell Rock -- the Ventures
11. White Christmas -- Darlene Love
12. Merry Christmas Baby -- Charles Brown
13. River -- Joni Mitchell
14. Home on Christmas Day -- Cyndi Lauper
15. Linus and Lucy -- Vince Guaraldi
16. Winter Wonderland -- Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass
17. Shake Hands With Santa -- Louis Prima
18. Blue Christmas -- Chris Isaak
19. Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! -- Dean Martin
20. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas -- Frank Sinatra

What? WHAT?! (High School Musical)

TAMPA -- Did you hear the screams Wednesday night, that awesome glass-shattering EEEEEE! that sent dogs into delirium from here to Boca?

That was the unforgettable sound of thousands upon thousands of cotton candy-jacked tweenagers bursting from their grade-school shackles and pleading for a chance to mingle with the big kids. Or, at the very least, sing with them.

Jocks and nerds forgoing wedgies and crooning as one is the utopian message behind High School Musical, the Disney Channel's made-for-cable phenomenon that spawned a triple-platinum soundtrack (the biggest-selling album of the year no less), a mega-selling DVD and now this: an $8.5-million concert spectacle that rah-rah-sis-boom-bahed into a sold-out St. Pete Times Forum on Wednesday.

More than 15,000 fans can't be wrong, folks. And they can't be quiet, either.

Over the past few years, the Mouse House has increasingly shanghaied the allowance money of squeaky 8- to 13-year-old kids via clean but hip entertainment with major cross-marketing clout. Give Disney credit: Kids are bombarded with music from all sides these days (iPods, video games, commercials), so songs have to be legitimately likable and catchy to stick.

And that's exactly what High School Musical is: the legitimately likable, incredibly catchy story about a basketball star (we love you, Troy!) and a brainiac (we want to be you, Gabriella!) who fall in love via a shared desire to sing Broadway-style ditties.

Of course, you didn't need to know any of that for Wednesday's event. The frenetic 90-minute stage show was all about the hits and the hot special effects -- shooting sparks, smoke machines, an IMAX screen showing clips of the movie -- and not at all about the movie's plot. I don't think a character's name was mentioned the whole night.

Instead, High School Musical: The Concert focused almost exclusively on selling its stars. Disney has a fiscally sound knack for turning unknowns (who get paid entry-level dollars, dontcha know) into knowns, and HSM is no exception. Almost all the leads from the movie were booked for the touring production, save for the original Troy, cutie-pie Zac Efron, who is currently filming Hairspray. No worries: His replacement, Drew Seeley, will no doubt be a household name by recess.

Next Big Thing Vanessa Hudgens, so cute and shy as brainy brunette Gabriella, now slithers and slinks with J.Lo Jr. sex appeal. Ashley Tisdale (pictured), so nasty and mean as snotty rich girl Sharpay, is now Britney Spears before the badness. And wild-haired Corbin Bleu, who played Troy's pal, has become Disney's energetic entry into the hip-hop market.

In a shameless bit of marketing, Hudgens, Tisdale and Bleu were all given too-long solo "showcase" sets in between the HSM parts, singing wishy-washy cuts from upcoming debut albums. Killing momentum, emcee Lucas Grabeel (he played Sharpay's bro in the movie) would then "interview" each performer in a mumbly back and forth. Lame-o-rama.

Still, it was hard to get too jaded for too long. Those HSM tracks, given oomph by a live six-piece band, were pretty darn good. Get'cha Head in the Game got its beats from basketball bounces and sneaker squeaks, and the accompanying dance routine was supercool. Hudgens' When There Was Me and You was an updated take on Grease's Hopelessly Devoted to You. And the utterly Godspellian Stick to the Status Quo had legit gospel punch and Greek chorus cheek.

And I'm willing to bet that every single person bouncing in every single seat knew every single word to every single song.

By the way, one of the biggest screams of the night came for an advertisement that flashed on the video screen: "High School Musical 2. Coming Summer 2007." You've been warned, Mom and Dad. EEEEEE!

Best Albums of '06: The LONG List

I need to pare this sucker down to a tidy Top 10 by Thursday. ANY ADVICE?

Wolfmother -- Wolfmother
Morningwood -- Morningwood
Bob Dylan -- Modern Times
Lupe Fiasco -- Food & Liquor
Arctic Monkeys -- Whatever People Say I Am...


Prince -- 3121
Donald Fagen -- Morph the Cat
Fantasia -- Fantasia
Bruce Springsteen -- The Seeger Sessions
TV on the Radio -- Return to Cookie Mountain
Johnny Cash -- American V
Christina Aguilera -- Back to Basics
My Chemical Romance -- The Black Parade


Gwen Stefani -- Sweet Escape
Akon -- Konvicted
Ludacris -- Release Therapy
Tom Petty -- Highway Companion
Pharrell -- In My Mind
Gnarls Barkley -- St. Elsewhere
Elton John -- Captain & the Kid
Raul Malo -- You're Only Lonely
Jerry Lee Lewis -- Last Man Standing

Bald Guy, Huckleberry Blonde: B-

Chris Daughtry, Daughtry (RCA) GRADE: B-

Season 5's Bald Wonder has one of the most distinctive voices in modern rock, that stylishly warbled metallic yawp that made him the most controversial also-ran in Idol history. But talent aside, somebody needs to get it through his shaved skull that "Nickelback imitator" is not a viable career option. On the early tracks of his debut, the sheer force of Chris Daughtry's voice is enough to overcome the derivative guitar scrum, especially on It's Not Over and catchy power ballad Used To. But everything eventually starts sounding the same, faux-metal gunk clogging your ears. It's no surprise that the album's most thrilling moment is the Guns N' Rosey What I Want, with a guest solo by guitar god Slash. Note to Daughtry: Find cooler friends.

 
Kellie Pickler, Small Town Girl (Sony Nashville)

GRADE: B-

Kellie Pickler's Huckleberry Blond routine last season made me want to pull an Elvis and take aim at the tube. But the lil' minx's debut disc makes for cheap-o fun, like watching Hee Haw in your underpants. Pickler's thin voice has been smoothed out via studio trickery, but her sassy spirit remains, especially on go-girl dustup Red High Heels. The highlight is a moving ballad called I Wonder, a strong, unapologetic letter to an estranged mother. The liner notes don't list writer credits, but if Pickler had a hand in that one, she really was a lot smarter than she let on.

Fantasia + Sean = TLA

Dear Kelly Clarkson: We had a good time together, you singing hits in my car, me daydreaming about the two of us scampering across Caribbean sands. But alas, our time is through. I have a new Idol crush now. Her name is Fantasia, and her new album is like a suckerpunch to my senses -- but in a good way. She's everything Beyonce could be if Jay-Z let her. To KC, I bid you adieu. To 'Tasia I say: Call me, superstar.

Fantasia, Fantasia (J Records) With Tina Turner’s strength, Patti LaBelle’s holler and legit songwriting skills, the Season 3 champ from High Point, N.C., is everything an R&B diva should be: bold, brash and unafraid to take chances. Such wickedly thumping jams as Baby Makin’ Hips ("See that wobble-wobble? Shaped just like a cola bottle") and Not the Way That I Do are the best tunes Beyonce never had the guts or independence to make. Forget about being an American idol: Fantasia is the American dream, a hard-scrabble teen-mom turned star who is both accessibly real and deliciously fantastic. GRADE: A

What's In Sean's Mailbox: Oh Belinda

A lot of repeats in the mailbox today -- that now makes 3 copies of Taylor Hicks, which is about 3 too many -- but I did get a finished copy of Belinda Carlisle's "French" album Voila, due in February. Haven't heard the music, but the album art is kinda disturbing, like Cruela de Vil in capri pants. Botox and the Beat would have been a better title. Belinda was my No. 1 crush growing up, a zaftig princess I celebrated for her chunky-but-funky spirit. Now she's thin and gaunt and spooky. C'mon, B, throw us a curve. Anyway, I'll spare you the awfulness -- please enjoy this incredibly adorable shot instead.

Here's today's take...

Belinda Carlisle -- Voila
Gwen Stefani -- The Sweet Escape
Tyrese -- Alter Ego
Fantasia -- Fantasia
Taylor Hicks -- Taylor Hicks
Beyonce, Jennifer Hudson -- Dreamgirls
Mary J. Blige -- Reflections (A Retrospective)

LISTEN TO THIS: Taylor Hicks Edition

Next Monday in Floridian, I'll be reviewing seven (7) of the newest American Idol releases, including Fantasia's latest, which is so shockingly good it's messing with my head. For now, though, here's a quickie look at Mr. Soul Patrol's debut, which was released today and will no doubt sell tons (40 copies to my mother at least).

TAYLOR HICKS

ALBUM: Taylor Hicks (Arista)

GRADE: C

WHY WE CARE: The world's oldest 30-year-old is the reigning American Idol champ, an incredibly earnest Everyman with a husky blue-eyed-soul voice, clunky dance moves and Newt Gingrich's hair. Hicks' rabid fanbase is called the Soul Patrol -- and no matter what I snark, they're gonna flip for this 12-track debut that might as well be Michael McDonald's third Motown album.

WHY WE DON'T REALLY LIKE IT: The pride of Birmingham, Ala., means well with his juke-joint cliches and Memphis horns, but seriously dude: When you sample Ray's What'd I Say and Marvin's Ain't That Peculiar IN THE SAME SONG, you're begging to get slapped. This guy "borrows" from so many people, I swear I saw a picture of my wallet in the liner notes. 

REMINDS US OF: Something we'd buy our mother for Christmas. (Just suck it up, sons and daughters. Target has it for $9.98.)

DOWNLOAD THESE: Dream Myself Awake (written by Rob Thomas), The Right Place (co-written by Bryan Adams)

Happy Birthday, Kid Lulu!

Three years ago today, Kid Lulu, spawn of Sean S. Daly and his beloved Forever Fiancee, was born in Baltimore, Md. When she popped out, she looked like a cross between Mr. Magoo and Edward G. Robinson from The Ten Commandments. In other words, the cutest thing I'd ever seen. The FF was totally doped up (sooo irresponsible), so the first few minutes of parenting were all up to me. Lu was wailing when they carried her over to the umbilical-hacking table. As my daughter is shattering mirrors with her cries (sooo dramatic), a crotchety nurse straight out of Central Casting says, "Aren't you gonna talk to her?" So I said hello, and it was nice to meet you, and that her mother was super cool. And just like that, Lulu stopped crying and just stared up at her old man with those dinner-plate-sized blue peepers.

(We like to believe that the hours of me singing Tom Jones songs into the FF's belly paid off. In other words, the Kid knew my voice from all those renditions of It's Not Unusual.)

The three of us stayed at the hospital for a few days, the last one bringing an epic snowstorm. I remember listening to Hall & Oates on the perilous drive home, Private Eyes merging itself into my daughter's DNA, You Make My Dreams soothing her old man driving 20 mph down I-95.

Grammys Love a Good Girl

The Grammy Awards love it when a bad girl goes good. Last year, the Recording Academy capped Mariah Carey’s comeback from delirious diva to chart-topping powerhouse with eight nominations at the 48th annual Grammy Awards.

This year, the 49th version of "music’s biggest night" (airing Feb. 11 on CBS) could be a celebration of Mary J. Blige, whose album The Breakthrough details her triumph over drug addiction and toxic men. When nominations were announced Thursday, the Queen of Hip-Hop Soul scored a leading eight noms, including R&B album of the year.

(For a list of all the nominations, go here.)

The Grammys got it right with Blige — well, sort of.

Oddly enough, The Breakthrough will not compete in the night’s biggest category. Instead, album of the year will be a battle between hip-hoppers Gnarls Barkley (St. Elsewhere), country gadflies the Dixie Chicks (Taking the Long Way), soft-rocker John Mayer (Continuum), funk-rockers the Red Hot Chili Peppers (Stadium Arcadium) and just-plain-hunky Justin Timberlake (FutureSex/LoveSounds).

That’s just silly: You’re telling me Timberlake’s hip-thrusts are better than Bob Dylan’s Modern Times? Christina Aguilera’s Back to Basics? Wolfmother’s Wolfmother? (Okay, maybe I was the only person rooting for that last one.)

With the exception of Gnarls Barkley, the awesomely off-kilter duo also nominated for record of the year (Crazy) and best alternative album, the major category has serious potholes. The Grammy folks looove Mayer, who they see as hunky and smart and, most importantly, safe. Unfortunately, Continuum is as exciting as a one-man pillow fight.

The Dixie Chicks Taking the Long Way was a wishy-washy bore of an album, but you better believe leading liberals Natalie Maines & Co., nominated for five awards, are gonna have good seats at that show. Unlike Nashville, where the girls are no longer welcome, the Grammys are Bush-bashing territory, so expect plenty of love for the ladies.

Here’s another question: Why is rookie crew Gnarls Barkley nominated for all those grown-up awards, but they don’t get a nod for best new artist?

Instead, the newbie battle includes country princess Carrie Underwood, wuss-rocker James Blunt, R&B hunk Chris Brown, British singer-songwriter Imogen Heap and neo-soul lovely Corinne Bailey Rae. Former American Idol champ Underwood has outsold all her competition combined, but don’t count out Blunt, whose ballad You’re Beautiful is nominated for record and song of the year. (In a perfect world, Rae, whose hit Put Your Records On was also nominated for record and song of the year, would win in a landslide.)

The best R&B album category is interesting, if only because it shows off the Grammys as being an utterly confused consortium of talent scouts. Blige is joined by Jamie Foxx (and his dreadful Unpredictable), India.Arie (Testimony: Vol. 1, Life & Relationship), Lionel Richie (Coming Home) and Prince (3121, also snubbed for album of the year).

Best rap album might have the strongest five entries in the whole competition: Lupe Fiasco’s Food & Liquor, Pharrell’s In My Mind, Ludacris’ Release Therapy, T.I.’s King and the Roots’ Game Theory.

Best country album, on the other hand, stinks like a set-up: the Dixie Chicks’ Taking the Long Way will no doubt cream Little Big Town’s The Road to Here, Josh Turner’s Your Man, Alan Jackson’s Like Red on a Rose and Willie Nelson’s You Don’t Know Me: The Songs of Cindy Walker.

In producer of the year, a category that’s a lot cooler than you think, the Black Eyed Peas’ underrated Will.i.am is going up against Howard Benson, T-Bone Burnett, Gnarls Barkley’s Danger Mouse and Rick Rubin, who helmed, among other things, Johnny Cash’s gorgeous farewell disc. Rubin will win, but here’s a shout-out to Will.i.am.

That’s just a sliver of of the 108 Grammy categories. If you’re a fan of jazz or classical or comedy (go Weird Al!), don’t feel snubbed. I just didn’t have time and space to get to you.

I’ll give my predictions when we get closer to the big night. For now, commence moaning about who got jobbed. (Seriously, where’s Wolfmother?!)

Sensitive Types Unite: Damien Rice's "9"

Anyone know who Renee Zellweger is dating these days? (Uh, I'm asking for a friend.) What happened to her relationship with Irish busker Damien Rice? Wasn't he supposed to be RZ's knight in pasty armor? Hmm, I can only imagine that didn't work out because the scruffy singer-songwriter was always so gosh-darn peppy. It couldn't have been because he's a notorious Eeyore who processes love like I process a Filet-o-Fish with extra tartar sauce, and that his music makes you wanna steer into traffic (but in a good way). I like the guy, but damn: He makes Jack White seem like Spongebob Squarepants.

Anyway, here's a quickie take on Rice's new disc...

Damien Rice
Album: 9 (Warner Bros.)
Why we care: The sad-sack Irish troubadour became a star in 2004 when director Mike Nichols used fragile ballad The Blower’s Daughter to epic, echoing effect in the Julia Roberts drama Closer.
Why we like it: If you thought The Blower’s Daughter was gloomy, hold onto your hankies: On his sophomore full-length, Rice takes the complexities of heartbreak to aortic new depths, especially on such tortured laments as The Animals Were Gone and Elephant. Rice loves starting songs with spare acoustic pluck — and finishing them with full crashing strings and his skylark falsetto pleading for sanctuary.
Reminds us of: The last two weeks of January, wherever the snow is black and the sun is banished. Enjoy!
Download these: 9 Crimes, The Animals Were Gone, Elephant
Grade: B+

What's In Sean's Mailbox: Bono, Ying, Yang

My good friends at Interscope just sent me the deluxe "book" edition of the U218: Singles disc. To be honest, I'd be fine, happy even, if I never heard Mysterious Ways or Sweetest Thing or Stuck in a Moment... ever again. I much prefer the two previous U2 comps, complete with scads of bonus tracks. Besides, how seriously can you take a U2 retrospective that doesn't include Bad? Sure, the glossy book is like liner-note porn, and I have high hopes for the concert DVD that comes with the deluxe shebang. But as for the hits CD, I'm not sure how much I'll listen. The Saints Are Coming is moderately cool (thanks mainly to Billie Joe Armstrong's prickly rising-sun opening), but the other new cut, Window in the Skies, just flat-out sucks.

Here's what I found in my mailbox this morning (besides the hate mail, poisonous snake and unreadable Filter magazine):

U2 -- U218: Singles
Ying Yang Twins -- Chemically Imbalanced
Incubus -- Light Grenades
Sonic Youth -- B-Sides & Rarities
Indigo Girls -- Despite Our Differences
Various Artists -- The Fox and the Hound 2

Bing Crosby's "Mele Kalikimaka"

Here's a tragicomic essay I scribbled for today's Floridian feature, in which seven writers were asked to wax poetic about Christmas songs...

Growing up in a bitter tundra famous for its torrential blizzards and wicked ice storms -- that is, my parents' house circa 1982 -- I developed a strange preteen love for Mele Kalikimaka, that yuletide curio teaching us "Hawaii's way to say Merry Christmas to you."

I vividly recall squatting in front our toboggan-sized hi-fi and pubescently dropping the needle (scruuuch!) on Side 2 of Bing Crosby's 1955 mandatory masterpiece, Merry Christmas. Without fail, I'd catch the final few seconds of penultimate jig Christmas in Killarney ("with all of the folks at home") before the needle settled into the warm tiki groove of steel guitars, drum brushes and the Andrews Sisters.

Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night.

I'd listen again and again, lost in the vinyl crackle, oblivious to surrounding dysfunction.

Written in 1949 by Honolulu's R. Alex Anderson, Mele Kalikimaka was the ultimate anywhere-but-here holiditty, especially for a 12-year-old who wanted to be anywhere but Westford, Mass., surrounded by Ma and Pa Bickerson. Sure, that little town of Bethlehem sounded divine, but better than Bing's "land where palm trees sway"? Now that was a winter wonderland.

Myriad musicians have covered Mele Kalikimaka, including Bette Midler, Chris Isaak and, naturally, Jimmy Buffett. And almost all of them perform it with a wink and chuckle, as if the up-tempo song were mere kitsch.

That's a mistake. I was only a wee boy the first time I heard Crosby perform the song, but even I could tell that there was a subtle strain of malaise in the man's delivery. Bing didn't want to be wherever he was. He wanted to be in Hawaii, too. And really now, who could blame him?

Gwen Stefani Coming to Tampa!!

It hasn't been "officially" announced, but my dreamgirl Gwen Stefani is coming to Tampa's Ford Amphitheatre on May 8. Yesterday I received my copy of Gwen's new album, The Sweet Escape (to be released 12/5), and there was a concert schedule enclosed. I'm gonna start lifting weights and cutting down on Funyuns now -- that way I'll be in prime wooing shape for Gwen's arrival.

In case my intentions aren't clear enough, here are the first two paragraphs of my rough-draft review of The Sweet Escape:

There is no greater combo of talent, charisma, poise, beauty and intangible incandescence in the current pop landscape than Gwen Stefani. Case closed. Seriously. Save your Justins and Christinas. You're wrong.

Defending the multi-platinum platinum blonde as the Queen of Pop just became a whole lot easier, too: Her new album, The Sweet Escape, is almost as good as 2004's Love. Angel. Music. Baby, which was almost the best album of that year. (The Killers' Hot Fuss beat it by a glammy hook.)