The Sloppy Dog's Best of 2007: Albums

10. Stereophonics - Pull The Pin
Kicking our End of Year Countdowns off as the tenth best album of 2007 are the Stereophonics, who paper over their patchy last effort with a full-throttle glamrock tribute in the shape of Pull The Pin. Save for lead single It Means Nothing, which is sat happily in its own carefree, quiet bubble, Pull The Pin represents their most consistent album, and confidently cements their longevity for another decade.

9. Alterkicks - Do Everything I Taught You
It’s probably a safe bet to assume that the stunning Good Luck might well be making an appearance in our Singles of 2007 countdown, but for now, we’ll gush lyrical about the inspired, diverse, superb album that houses it. Ranging from upbeat, fervent rock to the Radiohead-with-melodies walk through sombre, via a darkly comedic tale of cannibalism in the French Alps (no, really), Do Everything I Taught You is the mark of a band to keep a keen eye on.

8. Girls Aloud - Tangled Up
As improbable as a Popstars-produced band reaching a fifth album may be on paper, Girls Aloud have transcended all impediments with finesse to bring us a personality-laden, infectious, and most importantly, uncompromising album. Not a single cover or sappy ballad is present to bog down the pert, speedy flair of Tangled Up, providing Girls Aloud with their best work to date.

7. Athlete - Beyond The Neighbourhood
Having decided to drop the quirky elements that brought them to the fore just so they could go all Coldplay on our asses with their second album, it’s good to see Athlete holding their heads high and making an record worthy of their talent. All things considered, it’s still rather wistful, but it’s done with aptitude, purpose and a healthy dose of genius.

6. Ash - Twilight of the Innocents
An album from one of the greatest bands in the world today was always going to make our list, albeit slightly lower than we’d have anticipated. Perhaps it was never going to equal the zenith reached by 1977 and Free All Angels, but nonetheless we’re bestowed with an album that manages to thrash out and ornately soothe in complementary measures, yet significantly, is still quintessentially Ash.

5. Siobhan Donaghy - Ghosts
Aside from the constant attempts from Microsoft Word’s ham-fisted spellchecker to change her surname to “Dinghy”, there’s not much to dislike about Siobhan Donaghy, or more importantly, her sublime second album Ghosts. Spectral electro dissolving into truly magnificent classic songwriting, this album’s modest performance was a travesty. Ah well, we’re happy to see if a third album can propel her to stardom…

4. Travis - The Boy With No Name
A demonstration in how to age with a bit of dignity - take note, Bono. Not that Fran and the boys are in any way over the hill, merely developing nicely and taking their sound with them. For the most part, The Boy With No Name is a mellow collection of laddish lullabies, conveying a genial, folky quality (although props must go to the buoyant Selfish Jean, and its charismatic nods to Lust For Life). Anyone who wrote Travis off as a post-Britpop band du jour - would you like some ketchup on your words?

3. Lady Sovereign - Public Warning
A long overdue release, metaphorical champagne bottles were popped the day Public Warning hit the shelves. From our earliest experiences of Sov (which was, most likely, the Fit But You Know It Remix way back in 2004), we’ve had big expectations. Three years on, and her debut album has met those capably. While the more idiosyncratic cartoon tracks are preferable to the more grime-heavy selections, overall they highlight the versatility of Lady Sovereign as an artist. A lyrical genius, a shrewd social commentator, and best of all, fucking hilarious.

2. Mr Hudson & The Library - A Tale of Two Cities
Perhaps an even less likely contender in our list than Lady Sovereign comes in the form of Mr Hudson & The Library, and yet A Tale of Two Cities far surpasses any genre pigeonholing that might invoke snobbery. A collection of urban symphonies worthy of world domination, this is yet another release that we can’t quite believe hasn’t knocked the nation off its feet yet. From the glorious self-pity of Everything Happens To Me to the Caribbean-flecked, gritty splendour of Too Late Too Late, this is an album positively stuffed with charm, sincerity and character. A masterpiece from arguably the most innovative act of 2007.

1. Ghosts - The World Is Outside
And so we reach the Number One spot, a place occupied last year by The Feeling. This year’s champions aren’t necessarily a million miles away soundwise, so let’s hope they don’t echo The Feeling by tainting themselves with album overkill and some worryingly beige live gigs. But let’s focus on the positives - the Ghosts have made good on the early promise of the magnificent Stay The Night. A remarkable assortment of thrusting guitars, breakneck synth joy, stirring ballads, soaring vocals courtesy of Simon Pettigrew, and melodies with some serious clout, we strongly endorse The World Is Outside as a Christmas gift for anyone with ears.

Single Reviews 10/12/07

Once again, please take our sincerest apologies for the lack of updates recently. But hey, it’s approaching Christmas, and since we’re too busy to write anything, you lot are probably too busy to read anything too. Well, here’s hoping anyway. Next week we’ll be bringing you the first of our End of Year countdown lists, so in the meantime, enjoy the final Single Reviews of 2007...

It’s hard to think how a song recorded by both Bellefire (lovely, lovely girls - but did they ever have a cat in hell’s chance?) and re-mortgaging rugby-built racist Jo O’Meara could ever be dragged to any further a depth. But then along comes Cascada, brutally raping What Hurts The Most with the same old hi-NRG, cheese-laden Euro-schtick applied to their previous inexplicable hits.

Nailing our Single of the Week are Plain White Ts, which comes as quite a surprise to us, given that Hey There Delilah very nearly earned itself a place on our Worst Singles of 2007 (check back from next week to see who did make the cut). Hate (I Really Don’t Like You) is, as the title would suggest, a venomous clomp through pared-down yet powerful rock territory. Bit more of this and a bit less of the former, and we might even consider giving the album the once-over…

Given the untouchable inimitability of Massive Attack’s Teardrop, you’d wonder why anyone would even consider touching it. But props to Newton Faulkner, whose version isn’t actually too close to sacrilege. It’s given the ethereal majesty of the original a great big elbow, replacing it with a gentle folky twang-along. Of course, it's wholly pissed upon by the blueprint, but still.

And closing proceedings are the Sugababes, with their bi-annual down-tempo offering in the lead up to Chrimbo. While this year’s submission isn’t on a par with Ugly or Too Lost In You, Change is nevertheless quintessential Sugababes - captivating, classy and ultimately far more deserving of the Christmas Number One than whoever wins The X Factor. And that includes the mighty(ironically, mind) Same Difference.

Single Reviews 26/11/07

You’ll have to excuse the rather sparse updates here at The Sloppy Dog of late. A mixture of arranging birthday parties, handing in letters of resignation, whipping ourselves into a froth of excitement at the prospect of Victoria Beckham on Ugly Betty, and life-or-death open-heart surgery. One of those may not be true. Please accept our lamest excuses humblest apologies, and enjoy this week’s Single Reviews…

Paramore lead the pack this week, in review order only, though - definitely not in terms of quality. Aside from the shameless, barefaced ripping-off of No Doubt’s Hey Baby video, artwork and general soul, CrushCrushCrush provides sod all to write home about. Rather like a budget Evanescence with hip motion, this is little more than Bratz Go Emo.

A very welcome return to the tremendous Estelle, whose criminally underrated album, singles and overall status thankfully haven’t prohibited the arrival of her second album. Heralded in by the skill Wait A Minute (Just A Touch), even the mouldy touch of Will.I.Am thankfully can’t taint one of Britain’s brightest stars. Shuffling beats peppered with fleeting parps of brass, it’s a perfect partner for Estelle’s incomparable style.

While Sean Kingston’s mahoosive Beautiful Girls was equal measures of gimmicky and tiresome, it wasn’t difficult to see why it reached the heights it did. So, in a further aping of Eamon’s career, his second single is a wishy-washy pseudo-ballad that’s unlikely to bother the upper regions of the chart. So although Me Love may be a throwaway, reggae-tinged pop nonentity, let’s be thankful he hasn’t spawned his own Frankee…

With possibly their most mature single to date, Girls Aloud ease us into their fourth album after the cacophony that was Sexy! No No No. The slick, sophisticated Call The Shots may not carry the same level of excitement that previous upbeat material held, but it matches Whole Lotta History as a demonstration that Girls Aloud can pull off earnest rather well. (Who’s Ernest, fnar fnar, etc etc…)

After breaking - marginally - away from the drippy X Factor standard with his previous, shall we say, experimental double A-side, Shayne Ward dives straight back into the empty sentiment of his debut with Breathless. Were it not for his own brand of endearingly oafish childbirth-related lyrics, this could be the work of any tween-throb, boyband, or even twilight-era crooner.

Finally, unveiling a full-throttle anthem of genius are Editors (who we had to do an extensive Googling over just to determine the existence of a “the” prior to “Editors”). The Racing Rats easily scoops our Single of the Week, far surpassing their previous prevalent single Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors, and arguably, a big ol’ chunk of their first album. Finally, we’re actually getting the hype.

Honking Box Review: I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here

Ah, the return of I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here. The only show on television guaranteed to score more front covers than Big Brother, if only because The Sun and The Star dedicate half the front page to a new-levels-of-gratuitous photo of Myleene/Jordan/Sophie/Carol Thatcher washing their norks, regardless of the mass murder headline that accommodates the other half of the page.

In truth, we've only ever invested in one series, which was the 2004 carnival of lunacy. A year where John Lydon pussied out, then claimed it was rebellion rather than out-and-out spinelessness; where Peter met Jordan, increasing his stock 1000% while all but vaporising hers; where Kerry Chip-Shop won over the nation before heading on a downward slope to drugs, hostage situations and pop-pop chicken; and where Jennie Bond was the true unsung hero of the series.

Last year we were subjected to a torrent of "OMG PHINA BIT SCOTT OMG LOL!!" from friends and colleagues, but let's take a moment to consider what this sentence actually represented: a woman whose CV reads "fleeting cameo in Buffy" in 72 point, sinking her teeth into a weasely little man who once wrapped a pipe cleaner around Tina fucking Barrett. That, ladies and gents, is the perfect example of why we lost interest.


But this year's series is promising to be the stuff of reality legend. It was only the presence of Cerys Matthews that prompted us to tune in, and in honesty, we were expecting it'd prompt us to hammer out an 'Ump column. This is a woman whose career is both existant and relevant, if a little on the quiet side. Why exactly did she sign up? And yet, no matter, as she's proving to be highly entertaining and incredibly likeable, and we're not just saying that because she provided us with the second best single of last year.

And of course, Janice Dickinson cannot go unmentioned. It has to be confessed that America's Next Top Model doesn't make regular appearances on the Sloppy Dog V+ Box (cue our entire female and gay readership hurling large objects in disgust) but we now see what we've been missing out on - a seething, snarling generator of legendary one-liners. If anyone's going to slap that repugnant lizardy smile off the rubbery chops of Katie Hopkins, it'll be Janice. Here's hoping…

So, all things considered, this is shaping up to be quite an interesting viewing prospect. Of course, we don’t know who the jiggins most of the remaining celebrities are, so should Cerys or Janice make an early exit, we’ll be switching over irately. Until then, pull up a khaki campbed and pour yourself a nice cup of koala jism, it looks as though our winter nights are all booked up…

Single Reviews 12/11/07

As winter approaches - as this week’s weather has certainly underlined - may we suggest that you wrap up warm, stick the kettle on and stay indoors? Lookit, we have some Single Reviews to keep you entertained! C’mon, who needs sunshine when you’ve got this kind of derisive criticism?

Opening this week’s proceedings is Alicia Keys, putting her voice under all kinds of duress to match the rock zenith presumably set by new collaborator Linda Perry - who, incidentally, had no part in the sublime No One, in spite of its Perry-esque instantaneous melody, 80s synth majesty and laid-bare sentiment. A track to rescue Alicia Keys from the doldrums of Magic 105.4 and shove her right back in the game.

Having already floored us with a bevy of killer singles this year, The Pigeon Detectives provide a crunching hollerfest of an anthem in the guise of I Found Out. At just over two minutes, it’s more of a shot than a song, but it certainly makes the most of its limited time - and FYI, we’ll allow the re-release aspect to scuttle on by unharmed, as it’s been given a decent enough makeover in its 2007 get-up.

A rotten dose of drippy, cliche-stuffed, snivelling R&B squelchiness comes courtesy of Rihanna & Ne-Yo, with the pathetically gooey Hate That I Love You. Unfortunately far closer to Sexy Love or So Sick than Umbrella or SOS, it’s the kind of thing you’d have expected to hear on the Peter Andre & Katie Price duets album. And if nothing else, Hate That I Love You confirms that Ne-Yo is a man best left behind the scenes… or a man best left behind, full stop.

And finally - it’s been seven years coming, and in all truth we didn’t think it would ever happen. The new Spice Girls single is here. And what a crushing disappointment it… isn’t. Yes, after the initial WTF-factor of Headlines (Friendship Never Ends), it truly redefines the term “grower”, proving itself to be an earnest, glossy, Spice-heavy ballad straight from their golden period. An easy Single of the Week, helped in part by the fact Radio 1 don’t like it - surely the mark of a great track?

Spice Girls - Greatest Hits (EMI)

For anyone who may have missed the latter half of the Nineties, this album may go some way to illustrating exactly what you failed to see. The unstoppable promotion machine and cultural behemoth that was the Spice Girls has returned, and not before time. A sell-out world tour, a brand new single, a Greatest Hits album and more coverage than even the tabloids themselves could have fathomed… it’s as though they never went away.

But how does the music itself fare a decade on? While some tracks (Wannabe, Who Do You Think You Are) can only realistically be consumed as a fun representation of their era, others have emerged far better on this side of the time capsule. Say You’ll Be There has barely aged, while Holler was clearly years ahead of its time, a track you could easily envision the Pussycat Dolls sweatily clamouring for.

And more than anything else, Greatest Hits underscores just how good the Spice Girls were at ballads. Viva Forever, Goodbye and Too Much are draped in a timeless pop gloss, with a refinement that was so easily forgotten in the overshadowing cries of Girl Power.

And yet, as an album - even as a compilation - it all feels somewhat uninspired. A largely chronological running order, a mere two new songs, and even the arguably insipid artwork make for more of a shoulder-shrug than a milestone in pop magnificence.

Of course, nothing could match the expectations created by near-psychotic Spice fans in the run-up to this album’s release, a million message boards buzzing with the horrible awareness of every rumoured recording and shelved single. The live favourite Woman, the fabled C U Next Tuesday, the original version of Blackstreet & Janet Jackson’s Girlfriend/Boyfriend, the Elton John-penned My Strongest Suit… not a trace of one of them.

Instead, we’re lumped with the cumbersome, juvenile Voodoo, which ironically sounds more dated than its 11-year-old companions. Therefore, it’s up to new single Headlines (Friendship Never Ends) to fortify the Spice brand, and it doesn’t have an easy job. It’s a slow burner, but once fully alight, it’s truly enchanting. Whether Joe Public will stick with the song long enough to find out remains to be seen.

On the whole, however, it’s a tremendous way to commemorate the Spice Girls as both pop icons and national treasures who have yet to be matched, let alone surpassed. We’re all aware of the immense record sales, the incomprehensible levels of merchandising, the neverending column inches and the impact on a cultural level. But it’s nice to be reminded of the music that begat the whole spectacle, and this collection justly draws attention to that.

Single Reviews 05/11/07

Prior to this week’s Single Reviews, an open letter to Amy Winehouse: Dear Amy, when MTV ask you to be the star attraction of their ropey little show, it’s not because they like you. It’s because they want headlines, viewers and revenue. That sniggering sound they’re making is not a good thing. If you insist on drinking yourself stupid, please endeavour to have a shot of integrity with it. Love from The Sloppy Dog. P.S. You’ve still got a bit of vom on your neck.

Cementing the fact that she really is little more than a US version of Kym Marsh, lead Pussycat scutter Nicole Scherzinger expunges a beige, mid-tempo non-entity of a track, supposedly to put her dancing hooker schtick behind her. Meanwhile, the ubiquitous and highly-questionable talents of Will.I.Am obviously add nothing to Baby Love’s pungency, suggesting the pair of them cordially bog off back to their respective groups.

Having already knocked the nation sideways with the mighty Civil Sin, Boy Kill Boy somehow manage to surpass it with the thundering No Conversation. Heavy on melody, big on clout, and constantly on repeat as far as the Sloppy Dog stereo is concerned, the only downside is that it raises questions as to why the hell we haven’t gotten more excited about Boy Kill Boy before now.

Kylie Minogue - who apparently has dropped the Minogue, but for the sake of showering abuse upon her, we’re keeping it - does nothing to build upon the braveness brand she’s inexplicably garnered, with the piss-weak non-music of 2 Hearts. Camp for camp’s sake, this squelchy McVaudeville tune-dodging wankage firmly puts Dannii back on top of the sibling league.

Finally, scooping our Single of the Week are the Kanye-jousting, Gallic house bastions Justice with the whimsical D.A.N.C.E., a sort of lunar playground chant meets dancefloor-beckoning anthem. Though it feels like it’s been out for the best part of a year, there’s no detracting from the effortless aceness contained within.

Britney Spears - Blackout (SonyBMG)

So apparently, Britney's has been having some troubles. Not that we’d know or anything, she’s wisely opted to stay out of the limelight and steer clear of anything that could be construed as a publicity stunt. And remarkably, on the other side, the press have been incredibly sympathetic to her difficulties, and let her benefit from her privacy.

All jokes aside, Brit's stock truly has plummeted. It’s long past the point of enjoying a giggle at her expense, and is genuinely triggering a concern in the stone-cold British public. So, bearing in mind she’s little more than a shambolic pity case at the moment, with any trace of artistry having been lost with her dignity and her knickers, fifth album Blackout needs to be breathtakingly exceptional for Britney Spears to ever come back from the depths.

If nothing else, Spears knows how to get your attention. Gimme More - even in its title - sounds as though it was crafted specifically for a soft drink ad. And yet, involuntary foot-tappage is prompted with ease - testament not only to the effectiveness of the track, however robotic and empty, but it sets the tone nicely for what is, effectively, less an album and more a dancefloor bible.

Piece of Me, a self-deprecating commentary on The Cult of Britney, provides a personal account of the lunacy so many of us snort at while flicking through Heat on the bog, and actually succeeds in giving some insight into a world we think we know, all enveloped in crunching, throbbing pop goodness.

Squeaks, bleeps, blips and fuzzier-than-fuzzy vocal effects rain down upon Blackout, and become an irksome reiteration far too early on. The electro-clichés are generously spunked out, to the point that she’s completely unrecognisable beneath the layers and layers of distortion. Were you to listen to Radar without knowing the artist, you’d be hard pushed to name Britney as its holder. Is it J-Lo? Danity Kane? Rihanna? Aly & AJ? Rachel Stevens? Bloody Samanda?

The non-specificity bears witness to the big fat question mark that is Britney Spears as a person. Tortured mother, pop legend, or all-round human practical joke?

But taking the music - and the music alone - into account, this is a woman who has improved massively with each studio album released. And while it remains to be seen if Blackout can better the distinct, diverse spectacle that was In The Zone, it’s certainly no major step back. But in the current pattern, album number six threatens to be truly prodigious. Let’s just hope she’s alive to actually make it…

Single Reviews 22/10/07

Welcome, one and all, to this week’s Single Reviews. We offer our apologies for the lack of Single Reviews last week, but hey, even bloggers need a holiday from time to time. Not that we were on an actual holiday of any kind, but still. Incidentally, if you enjoy our witty observations and brazen bitchery, why not make a donation to the Sloppy Dog Holiday Fund? Something four-figured would be an acceptable start.

The only positive aspect of having the 21st Century’s most ill-selected debut single is that any follow-up is automatically breathtaking by default. Perhaps that’s what makes Bleeding Love appear quite so impressive, although it’ll take more than a mid-tempo ohrwurm with all the right contemporary nods to make Leona Lewis even the slightest bit interesting. Still, it’s good to see Cowell finally making an informed A&R decision. It’s almost as if it’s his job or something…

Any offering from the Melanie C camp will always be well-received here at The Sloppy Dog. It’s just a pity that the buzz surrounding new single This Time couldn’t have been applied to the far-superior Carolyna earlier in the year. Slightly watery in comparison to the less fluffy, far meatier album version, but a demonstration of skilful musicianship nonetheless. Now get your arse in gear, love, and release Understand…

Jimmy Eat World go some way to finally matching the splendour of The Middle with the stupendous Big Casino, a US-centric guitar anthem with an inescapable beguiling quality. Rattling riffs and quietly-aching vocals make way for a crashing chorus, raising questions as to how this band never quite broke out. Seriously, did the Foo Fighters nick Jimmy Eat World’s success when they weren’t looking?

Proving that their comeback was more than just a one-album gimmick are Take That, providing the theme tune to Stardust via the mighty uber-ballad of Rule The World. Big strings, soaring vocals, (supposedly) inspirational lyrics… it’s archetypal Take That, and quintessential movie soundtrack. That said, Best Song at the Oscars it sure ain’t. Where do people get these ideas from?

Claiming an inexplicable re-release this week are Ladytron, with the sublime 2005 single Destroy Everything You Touch. For a song that already carries a fair amount of weight, you’ve got to wonder what’s sent it marching back to the shelves, although we’re not complaining. Haunting electro beats partnered with a knockout melody, it’s a deserving recipient of our Single of the Week, even if that week was rightfully two years ago.

Finally, a trumpeting low note in the career of Britney Spears, as if she hasn’t already reached the depths on her hands and knees. Just as (You Drive Me) Crazy, Baby One More Time, Stronger and Oops! I Did It Again were identikit early Britney, it seems the later Britney blueprint is a jumble of pulsating, slithering beats and juddery vocal ‘effects’. Gimme More isn't bad by any means, but no song on God’s green Earth is enough to rescue the career of this train-wreck of a woman. Bless her cotton panties, or lack thereof.

Stereophonics - Pull The Pin (V2)

You’d be forgiven for thinking that the Stereophonics live life as one of those bubbling-under bands, who’ll enjoy success, fame and acclaim to an impressive level, yet it’ll only ever be 80% of that enjoyed by whichever buzz band the chattering classes are wanking over that month.

But let’s take a closer look. Five previous albums each dripping with attitude, a reluctant sex symbol tag thrust upon Kelly Jones, recent arm-slicing paparazzi action, and of course, the firing of Stuart Cable that implied a level of in-fighting worthy of the first six incarnations of Destiny’s Child. All things considered, they’re actually quite the headline act. And now, the Stereophonics have finally made an album deserving of their status.

Pull The Pin, their sixth studio album, and by far the most rock-heavy, comes equipped with a certain swagger. Just the right side of arrogance, but high on musicality, it’s the perfect album from a band of this calibre, at a point in their career where they can afford to take stock of their victories.

The graft ’n’ grit arrangement of opener Soldiers Make Good Targets immediately underlines that the melodic crawl of It Means Nothing isn’t any indication of Pull The Pin’s overall theme. Similarly, the likes of My Friends and Bank Holiday Monday thunder along, leaving any such forecasts spluttering in their dust.

An abundance of masculine posturing, resilient revving and extreme vivacity make for a far more consistent album than Language.Sex.Violence.Other, which simultaneously provided some of the best and worst material of the Stereophonics’ career. And yet, Pull The Pin doesn’t suffer in the slightest from its comparable lack of versatility. Thematic without feeling contrived, it benefits massively from its steadiness and its defined identity.

That’s not to say it’s wall-to-wall pedal-to-the-metal. Bright Red Star functions as an acoustic breather from the testosterone, markedly different and yet somehow, incredibly comfortably-placed amongst the charged rock.

As far as negatives go, you’d be hard pushed to come up with any that’d carry the slightest weight. Incidentally, the furthest that we got was the cover artwork which, while impressive, is reminiscent of that snooty bitch in The Apprentice who didn’t like the way Team Stealth (or was it Eclipse?) interpreted her overpriced lips nonsense. And hey, it could have been the Stupid Titties & Fish as endorsed by Tre…

On the whole, Pull The Pin provides the Stereophonics with a potent, defining album, and provides the listener with a powerful ride through adept musicianship and rock star sensibilities. Of course, an inch further across that line would be the crossover between confidence and arrogance. And yet, you couldn’t blame them for believing the hype - it’s incredibly well-earned.