2017 Albums Of The Year

It’s time to rate the best albums of 2017, a truly great year in pop music. If you haven’t heard any of these six incredible albums, let me know and I’ll dropbox you a link.


Ra’az, the Canadian-Sanskrit electroclash duo, has been called “a cross between ARE Weapons and Chromeo pumped full of HGH” (New York Times) and “Har Mar Superstar, but shittier” (Sports Illustrated). Their fourth(?) album “Secret” (Cherry Pop[?]) is a life-affirming spectacle about the joys of hedonism in a repressive authoritarian state, with songs like “Sangria Sharia Shangri-La” and “Oohlala XXX (Hit Dis Heni)”. Props to Jon Brion(?) for adding slick production to their almost-hit “Screwed Sucret Shalamar (The New Joint Next Level FUMF)”


The Western European techno collective finally busted through the glass ceiling on the second volume of slamming Ibiza club hits. DJ’s Can’t Fuck are the first and so-far only pure Gnostic DJ collective. The DJ’s either can’t fuck because they are eunuchs or because they’re sexually incompetent. Allegedly, a few of the DJ’s are physically able to fuck but refuse to for religious reasons or to preserve their precious bodily fluids. I have never heard this album and I probably never will. I only rated it so I could tell the backstory.

Smokey Weller and his younger sister “Marmalade” Sally have their intertwined their song stylings on their debut “Good Eatin'” (self-released). This California duo have positioned themselves at the forefront of the West Coast outlaw country scene with “Hey Smokey (What’s Up Marmalade)” and “Tickle My Ivories, Tickle Me Pink”. Sounding like Birdcloud having a threesome with the exhumed corpse of Townes Van Zandt, Smokey and Marmalade are surely the finest brother-sister country-folk duo to have ever come out of a Montessori school system.


This novelty mashup-single credited mockingly to Elvie & Tommy (or Elvis Costello and Tom Waits for those of you who don’t know) is actually the work of alternative rock hunk Bob Mould (Husker Du, Sugar, solo artist) and Swedish hip-hop producer Pron-Porg MC. “B.O.O.B.S.” is a one-percenter gag that will go over the head of most club-goers. For the bedroom set and their friends in the basement.

Foggy Notion, the Norwegian power trio of bad-ass riot grrrls, show you’re never too female to rock. Guitarist-vocalist Snorf Lordgren and bassist-vocalist Oksle Djorgenloff link up with avuncular, estrogen-informed vocals, reminding this reviewer of a fuzzier Sleater-Kinney. Drummer Elke Ogsneddenhoff-Magnedden’s ferocious, understated ovary-inflected grooves recall everything from the feminist minimalism of Meg White to the irrational haberdashery of Drumbo. Combining angular riffage and sonic mammary guitarmaggedon with a egalitarian credo. . . vagina.


Fyre Next Tyme is Wyoming’s most mysterious psych group. Imagine a more pranksterish Acid Mothers Temple (imagine listening to Acid Mothers Temple [look up Acid Mothers Temple on Wikipedia]). Fyre Next Tyme’s umpteenth album “Ypex Prydytyr” (Red Apple[?]) is simply WWE wrestler Randy Orton’s entrance theme slowed down 500 percent and fed through a flanger. An attempted US tour was cut short after Pitchfork reported that six of the eight band members were members of a registered hate group.