sam cassell is an alien and i love him

Listen, this weekend has left a bad taste in my mouth, which is a distinctly un-weekendly like thing to happen on a weekend. So in an effort to move beyond and look ahead, I’m releasing my momentous and epic Top Albums of 2006 list a full two weeks early, this being only the 17th day of the 12th month of the year. And besides, is there anything more ironic and possibly self-defeating than to look ahead by conducting a look back at the last year? If you said yes, well then clearly you didn’t major in history in college and for that, I pity you.

And yes, I’m aware that this has nothing to do with basketball, or the NBA, or even Sam Cassell, but I’m allowed one totally indulgent, off-topic post every once in a while (especially after a bad weekend), no? I know what you’re thinking–how am I to explain all those innane scribblings about shoes? To that, friends, I say: there couldn’t be anything more relevant to the NBA and American basketball culture than shoes; they practically run the whole league. With that in mind, there is hardly a post on this blog that will more rightfully earn the coveted “Uncategorized” tag. So without any further fanfare, I present my Top 22 Albums of 2006 (and yes, I realize 22 is a relatively odd-number of a top-anything list, but I felt all of the following 22 albums deserved some mention in one way or another):

22. Be Your Own Pet, Be Your Own Pet. They are by far the coolest high school drop outs ever, much cooler than Frenchie from Grease, that’s for sure.

21. Howe Gelb, ‘Sno Angel Like You. Ain’t that title just the cutest?

20. Beirut, Gulag Orkestar. This kid may be just as young as those BYOP kids, and while he’s obviously very talented (so many instruments, yet no guitar? What a madman!), he’s definitely not as cool as those kids at the two-two-spot. So the real question of course then is: will this be the first time talent trumps coolness on this list? Read on, if you dare…

19. Greg Davis and Sebastian Roux, Paquet Surprise. What happens when you cross an electronic music guru with a background in classical guitar training and a penchant for pastoral melodies with another, more European eletronic music afficianado? Well, if you guessed a lot of pleasant, soothing melodies meshed with a crapload of weird ambient noises, you guessed right.

18. Man Man, Six Demon Bag. I didn’t like this album at first, I thought it was just pretty silly without having any deeper substance. Then I saw them live. The fact that this album is on this list at all, not to mention this high is really meant only as a testament to the awesomeness of their live show.

17. Dirty Projectors, New Attitude EP. The most wildly unique and original music I’ve heard all year. They’re crazy.

16. Supersilent, 7. Who would’ve ever thought the modern jazz revolution would be carried out by the whitest, most European populace to ever play jazz? Let me tell you, those Scandinavians have got their avant garde music down.

15. The Blow, Paper Television. If this album had been released 6 months earlier, it’s possible I would have overlistened to this album by now, causing it to slip multiple spots, if not out of this list all together. Lucky for them, I’ve only listened to this album some twenty or so times since first downloading it a couple weeks ago, and it’s still catchy as hell.

14. Arizona Amp and Alternator, Arizona Amp and Alternator. Congrats to you, Howe Gelb, you managed to make it onto this list twice. Aren’t you special?

13. TV on the Radio, Return to Cookie Mountain. In actuality, this album probably deserves to be much higher. But the live show effect can work both ways: my experience at a TV on the Radio show at First Ave earlier this year was so bad (not that TVOTR’s performance was that bad, although it was definitely overrated), that this album inevitably slides down a couple notches as a result.

12. Guillemots, Through the Windowpane. By far the straight-up poppiest album on this list. But damn, it’s just so good.

11. Juana Molina, Son. I’m willing to guess that all children’s television actors in Argentina are this wildly talented. Any insight to offer, Zvi?

10. Islands, Return to the Sea. I saw them live more than any other band this past year, twice in fact. One show was pretty damn good, the other was pretty damn meh. How does that affect their standing on this list? Yep, 10 seems about right.

09. Chad VanGaalen, Skelliconnection. Just watch this, and then try to tell me he doesn’t deserve to be in the Top Ten.

08. Peter Bjorn and John, Writer’s Block. I’ve got nothing clever to say about these mates. They just made a good album, ok?

07. Phoenix, It’s Never Been Like That. Listen, writing the catchiest song of the year (”Long Distance Call”) will get you somewhere: #7 on this list.

06. Ekkehard Ehlers, A Life Without Fear. What does a German producer, electronic music dork, and devout Frankfurt School theoretician have to say about American blues? Apparenly, some of the most poignant and true-to-form deconstructionism of the genre ever. This is the creepiest, darkest, most powerful album on this list. And it’s really, really awesome.

05. Final Fantasy, He Poos Clouds. He makes up for a horrible band name with the worst (and thereby best) album name in years. The music’s pretty darn good too.

04. Junior Boys, So This is Goodbye. The individual highlights of this moment are not as strong as the individual highlights of Last Exit, but on the whole much more consistent.

03. Grizzly Bear, Yellow House. In any other year, this album would be #1 on my list. It’s a shame they were topped by the two juggernauts topping this list. Sorry, boys.

02. Liars, Drum’s Not Dead. I think Liars should rule the world. I really, really do.

01. Destroyer, Destroyer’s Rubies. At this point, I’m convinced Dan Bejar could crap all over a recording studio and I’d think it was the most brilliant thing ever. Oh wait, he already did that, very recently in fact (see: Swan Lake). Well THANK GOD members of Carey Mercer and Spencer Krug had no hand in the writing of this album. And thank god Dan Bejar is a friggin genius. I cite Rubie’s as my evidence, and will accept nothing less than ultimate supremacy on this list as the bountiful reward. Congrats to you, Dan, and congrats to all of Canada, says I. As a result, you’ve won a place in my heart, and more importantly, on this blog.

Eddie Argos, I’ve one upped you. As I’m watching Eric Mangina’s New York Jets systematically dismantle the Vikings on both sides of the ball and the game literally passing right by old man Brad Johnson’s eyes (and by the game, I mean Tavaris Jackson who just passed right by our starting QB while entering the game), it’s becoming more and more evident by the second—it’s been a baaaaaaadddd weekend. Last time I bothered to check in, I made a predictably ridiculous and overzealous prediction (ironic that a prediction can be predictable, no?). Well 40 or so hours have elapsed since my 24-hour prediction, and in that time the Timberwolves lost their second game of the week and Allen Iverson appears to be no closer to wearing a Timberwolves jersey, let alone a Nuggets jersey (the other hot team in the AI chase), or anyone else’s for that matter. The even-more troubling development of the weekend is it appears that Carmelo Anthony won’t be wearing a Nuggets jersey for a while either.

Why is this troubling, you ask? Doesn’t Carmelo Anthony play for the Timberwolves’ main rivals? Aren’t his Nuggets ahead of the Wolves in the Northwest Division standings? Isn’t ‘Melo a whiny, selfish punk, who never lets his patriotic leanings and higher callings stand in the way of a good ole playing time bitch-session? Well yes, and no. Despite my own homeristic tendencies, I’ve got to hand it to young ‘Melo—he’s done more to completely remake his game and his image this season than any other player in the NBA. Under the tutelage of George Karl, a total hardass of a coach who demands the most from his players, demands that his players put their egos aside (if only because his ego trumps all others), demands that the team concept always comes first (this is, of course, a tea concept that revolves around Melo), ‘Melo has become the most well-rounded and unstoppable offensive force in the NBA this season, leading all players with a 31.something PPG average. That, coupled with Melo’s new Nike commercial, which I’ve been saying for weeks is the best NBA commercial of the year so far, perfectly capturing the many faces of the new NBA culture that David Stern would like to show, have contributed to an 180-degree Melo turnabout in his third professional season. Not to pat myself on the back (ok, I will), but I such a turnaround coming before the NBA season started, drafting Melo in the 4th round of my fantasy NBA draft to cries of “Reach! Reach!” echoing throughout the room. I laughed in the face of those non-believers, those heretics, and have been rewarded with Melo’s steady scoring ever since. And then last night happened.

I won’t bother going through every minute detail of last night’s NBA brawl (although I have to say, is it a surprise to anyone that NBA’s biggest fight since the cataclysmic Auburn Hills cagematch involved Isiah Thomas, who allegedly ordered a flagrant foul on any Nuggets player looking to further rub in their double-digit blowout? What a complete idiot). But if one were to make a horriblly misguided analogy between last night’s skirmish and, say, the tsunami in southeast Asia in 2004, Carmelo could have a whole wave of aid organizations devoted to just his actions. See, the main disaster had struck, the brawl’s epicenter had already landed and done its damage (once again, thank you very much Isiah Thomas). Then, Melo decides to flail a nasty haymaker to the side Mardy Collins’ face, and causes a whole series of aftershocks nearly as devestating as the initial disaster itself. And just like that, a whole season of work down the drain (and I’m no longer referring to the tsunami, to be clear). And to think, I almost called Melo my new favorite NBA player? Five years ago, Melo would’ve received maybe a 3-game suspension. But with the Malice at the Palace still far from distant-memory status, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Melo’s suspension reach 10 games, meaning my fantasy NBA team has got a tough two weeks ahead for itself. Well thanks for nothing you punk Carmelo Anthony, looks like winter break is starting a week early for you this year.