In our final installment of the finest albums of the year, I provide you with the essentials tools for living your own productive life in 2008. Don't thank me. Send money.
Canadian law prevents me from saying certain things here, so we'll leave it with the idea that Ron is a fine Canadian citizen with an exemplary personal record and his songwriting remains quite catchy even to those us who don't live in his country. His music crosses borders. You can't build a fence around this man's music. People have tried. It doesn't work.
With a name like Roddy Woomble, how could I not put him on my list? He sings for a band called Idlewild. But he must've realized that when you record with a band you have to split the money with the other guys, whereas if you put out a record under your own name you get to keep all the money. That sounds like a better idea.
These guys all moved out of Brooklyn and over to Williamsport, Pennsylvania to be closer to the Little League World Series and because it's too expensive to live in NYC. When you make music that sounds like you've been listening to Pink Floyd's Ummagumma you're probably not going to be paying your rent anytime in the near future.
This young troubadour from Martha's Vineyard sounds like he can't wait to get old. He sings like he broke his foot digging ditches for the less fortunate and now wishes to share his fate with everyone who ever doubted him. Or maybe he just had a cold.
Usually when an album comes out on the Lost Highway label it comes with an obligatory cowboy hat. Not this one. This sounds like a folksinger who found a cheap tape recorder in the back of someone's van and recorded his songs while everyone else went to the beach to have a good time. From there, someone else went in and made it sound like a real record.