Best Failure

This is a new award for me, designed specifically for those albums whose initial impressions were so poor I was just certain I actually felt seething hate for it. This award is difficult to give because I tend to just trade off whatever things I can't stand. For some reason, I was able to hold on to at least this one album, and many months later when I re-examined it, I found I actually enjoyed it.

Eels - Shootenanny

Damn, how disappointing this album was the first few times through. I even applied my "five times" rule (listen at least 5 times before you pass judgement, especially negative, upon something) and it still failed to ignite anything in me other than contempt. Eels frontman E is known for his tendency to go for the chuckle at odd times, which has given some of his more somber songs a bit more human feel - even the worst of things aren't so remorse that the world is entirely devoid of humor - but it felt like Shootenanny was created specifically to showcase this kind of humor. Problem was, it was entirely lacking in substantial material on which to hang this humor, and in the end it just felt kind of like a joke being played on the long-time fans. E, more than ever before, felt simply like a character Mark Oliver Everett was playing. Where Daisies of the Galaxy and Electro-Shock Blues were depressingly beautiful, with moments of wise-ass whimsy, Shootenanny is simply all whimsy and all wise-ass, all the time. It didn't feel genuine. However, given a few months away from it, my hesitant decision to listen to it again was rewarded with a pleasant, fun album to listen to. Sure, some of the lyrics sound like E slaved over them to make them funny, but it's strangely strong. It's not one of the year's best, but it's certainly nothing to overlook if you enjoy some cranky, but intelligent music.

Best Up With People-inspired project

There's really only one group that will probably ever be graced with this award, because I simply can't imagine the world needing more than one of these . . .

The Polyphonic Spree - The Beginning Stages Of . . .

It's a little creepy - all those white robes, lyrics obsessed with the sun, the cheery, upbeat glee-club atmosphere. It's also addictively goofy, with flutes-a-trilling, bright splashes of horns, big group vocals (29 members is what I find) and Tim Delaughter's fragile, cracked child-like voice. Are they a cult, or just a musical group? It's hard to tell. The whole thing is weird. It's hard to take too seriously, with lyrics like "Hey now it's the sun and it makes me shine," seriously - how can you not laugh at that? It's also difficult to take in big doses - this is musical sunshine, and too much exposure can leave you with serious burns. This is like the manic side of manic-depression - where someone is so hepped up about life and stuff. "ISN'T IT ALL SO WONDERFUL? ISN'T LIFE SO BEAUTIFUL AND GREAT?! LET'S HAVE FUN!" Add to this all the strange sun-worshipping themes and the whole project takes on a very cult-like weirdness - everyone's smiling and insistent on how wonderful the sun is. Some might mistake this for super-happy music, but I think it's subversive and insidious, and that's what makes it's so intriguing to me. How close can I get - how much do I dare flirt - before I too have no choice but to join in, chanting "Follow the day and reach for the SUN!"