5. Dirty Projectors – Bitte Orca / Animal Collective – Meriweather Post Pavilion (Tie)
These poor bands. They each released the most brilliant and inventive album of the last decade in the same year. Both of these records should really be number one, because they are both completely unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. Except for other Dirty Projectors and Animal Collective records, that is. They are maddeningly inventive and the future of music and I have incredible respect for both of them. The only reason I am not ranking these records higher is A) because I can’t decide between them and B) because each of them contains more than one song that does absolutely nothing for me. Their great moments are among the greatest moments in music of the last several years, but their boring moments are zzzzzz. Still and all, you really should just own both of these if you have any interest in retaining your cool quotient.

4. Kid Sister – Ultraviolet
This album came as a complete surprise. I downloaded her single “Family Reunion” awhile ago and dug it, but I wasn’t waiting on pins and needles for the album to come out. But then I was bored one day and needed something new to listen to and I rolled the dice and took a chance on Ultraviolet. That was a lucky roll, because Kid Sister is the most fun I’ve had in my ears all year. (What?)

Kid Sister has no social agenda. She doesn’t give a shit about street cred and she has no interest in expanding hip-hop’s boundaries. The only thing Kid Sister is concerned with is getting your ass on the dance floor, and what she does, she does damn well. Ultraviolet is filled with one fun hook after another, from the old-school club vibe of “Right Hand Hi” to the why-didn’t-I-think-of-that sample of Yaz’s “Don’t Go” on “Big N’ Bad.” In the tradition of all great party albums, she creates her own dance craze (“Switchboard”) and she even has the guts to end her record with a song called “Control.” Her lyrics are hardly groundbreaking, but she refreshingly doesn’t rely on sex appeal to sell her songs — she’s more content to talk about how much she loves donuts (she really, really loves donuts) and getting her nails did. Also: no auto-tune. The old-school dance rap record of the year, hands down.

3. Ida Maria – Fortress Round My Heart
In 2008, 23-year-old Swede by way of Norway Ida Maria came out of nowhere to conquer Europe with the most ass-kicking punk debut since The Exploding Hearts’ Guitar Romantic. When the record was finally released in the states this year, it met with very little fanfare. That’s too bad, because Ida Maria is the real deal. I have no idea why she has not yet taken America by storm. I’m sort of glad she hasn’t … in another universe her songs “Oh My God” and “I Like You Better When You’re Naked” would be inescapable. I choose to believe that Ida is an anti-corporate purist and does not want to sell her songs to advertisers. Countering that argument is the fact that she signed on for the Perez Hilton music tour, although countering that argument is what happened on the tour … Ida showed up drunk one night halfway through the tour, half-assed her way through two songs, then walked offstage and promptly hopped a plane back to Sweden.

Ida’s formula is one that should be easy to replicate but is somehow incredibly hard for people to do properly: 1) write unbelievably catchy three-chord rock songs. 2) sing over them as if your life depended it. Ida Maria makes it sound so effortless, she makes you forget about the hundreds of artists, from Blink-182 to Avril Lavigne, who have turned punk rock into just another production tool to be employed in the quest for pop superstardom. The 10 songs on her leave-them-wanting-more debut range from speaker smashers (“Oh My God”) to backbeat pogofests (“Louie”, “Queen of the World”) to quiet after-party lullabies (“In the End”). Ida rips into every song with gusto, turning songs that might have been merely entertaining in the hands of a lesser artist into bold statements of defiance. “Find a cure, find a cure for my life,” she snarls in the opening track, establishing from moment one that she isn’t just another Gen Y starlet trying on punk rock like a new outfit. “Oh my god, you think I’m in control / Oh my god, you think it’s all for fun.” It may not all be for fun, but Fortress ‘Round My Heart leaves little doubt who’s in control.

2. Sunset Rubdown – Dragonslayer
When I first picked up Dragonslayer about 4 months ago, I listened to it so much the MP3s developed scratches. That’s not true, because I don’t think that’s really possible. I did listen the shit out of it, though. On my way to work, at work, in the car on my way out … I had this record on constant rotation for longer than any other album I purchased this year, and when I needed a break, I picked up everything else they’d ever recorded.

Sunset Rubdown is, I guess technically, a side project by Spencer Krug from the Montreal band Wolf Parade. I never got into Wolf Parade because there are like a thousand bands with the word Wolf in their names and it’s obnoxious. And then it took me forever to pick up this Sunset Rubdown even though I kept reading good things about it because the band’s name is Sunset Rubdown. Spencer is also in the equally poorly-named Frog Eyes, so that guy’s three for three.

Despite their dismal failure of a name, Sunset Rubdown destroy. Warning: this music is earnest (sample lyric: “My heart is a kingdom/Where the king is a heart/My heart is king/The king of hearts.”) It is proggy (Icarus gets mentioned in two different songs). It has ridiculous, over-the-top song titles (“Apollo and the Buffalo and Anna Anna Oh!”). It is the kind of music that could be better appreciated by donning a wizard costume. In short, it is everything I usually hate about music.

But remarkably, it all works. I do not know how they did it, but somehow Spencer Krug and his merry band of medieval pranksters bundled up everything awful and pretentious about rock n’ roll and spit out the most complex and engaging album of the year. Their strategy is boldly announced with the soaring “Silver Moons,” best enjoyed over a pint of mead (“I’m off to the ballet/and to practice all these ancient ways/tell the new kids where I hid the wine/tell their fathers that I’m on my way”). Every song is stuffed-to-the-gills with multiple movements, build-ups and pull-backs, solos, and key changes, with only one track coming in under 4:00. I’m telling you, this album should be horrible. Beyond all reason, it is fantastic.

1. The-Dream – Love vs. Money
The-Dream (yes, he spells his name with that obnoxious hyphen) is a hitmaker. He writes hits. He wrote Rihanna’s “Umbrella.” He also wrote hits for other people I’ve never heard of like Yung Joc and Ciara. He might be terrible, but I’m obsessed with this album.

Why do I love this album so much? I have no idea. I do not usually listen to R&B. The last straight R&B record I bought was D’Angelo’s Voodoo, which is pretty well-acknowledged to be a masterpiece. Love vs. Money, on the other hand, is just your typical hip-hop/soul fusion record with songs about popping off in the club and making sweet, sweet love to ladies with lovely round asses. The thing that separates The-Dream … aside from his undeniable ability to write a great hook … is his sense of humor. You would never know it unless you listened to the lyrics closely, but Love vs. Money is the funniest album of the year. Particularly so when the lyrics are contrasted with The-Dream’s smoove bedroom grooves. And yes, it is on purpose. Some of my favorite lyrics:

From “My Love” (in response to haters who think The-Dream’s lady could find a better man):
Who’s been loving you lately?
Who’s willing to go half on the baby?

From “Put It Down”:
I’m all up on you like a monster truck
I’m all up on you like, “Shorty, what’s up?”
I’m all up on you like a white tee on a thug
If you hear me, shorty, put your hands up …
Now if they ask do I sing like Usher tell ‘em “no,”
But I can make you sing like Mariah
Now if they ask if I dance like Chris tell ‘em “no,”
But as much rubbing as we do we can start a fire

From “Sweat It Out,” a song about how once you hit the sheets, The-Dream is gonna fuck up your hairdo big time:
Girl call Laticia your beautician
‘Cause your hair is gonna need fixin’ …
She just got her hair did
But you know I can’t stop this
Right after we’re finished
I’m gonna get your shit fixed …
Didn’t mean to mess up a good thing
But I needed you babe
Don’t be mad at me
You shoulda got braids

Although The-Dream’s songs sound like typical bedroom jams upon first listen, further spins reveal this to be an album of deep artistic complexity. The production, by longtime collaborator Tricky Stewart and L.O.S. da Mystro (whoever the fuck that is) is filled with hidden surprises that keep each song eminently listenable. Every moment is tightly controlled, yet The-Dream’s loose-knit vocals give the record an intimate feel. Although it’s heavy on ballads, the dancier songs (“Walking on the Moon,” “Take You Home to My Momma”) rival some of Michael Jackson’s best material.

I can’t make a case for Love vs. Money as an artistic masterpiece. There may be incredible stuff happening in r&b that has completely flown under my radar. But I can say that this record opened my eyes to the possibilities of a genre I’ve never had much interest in, which is more than I can say for any of the other records on my list. And for that, I must tip my hat to Mr. Dream by awarding him … ALBUM OF THE YEAR! Well done, sir. Now go make that booty clap.

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