The eMusic Dozen: Best Albums of 2006: 20 - 11

20 Arthur Russell's cult has blossomed since his 1992 death, mostly thanks to his dance-music productions under names like Loose Joints and Dinosaur L, as well as 1986's meditative (and, yes, echoey) World of Echo. But before that, he was a minimalist composer and student of Indian master Ali Akbar Khan, a period more read about than heard before this, Audika's second collection from Russell's vaults. First Thought Best Thought collects two discs of his often wondrous orchestral and instrumental compositions, many of them either only previously available in limited editions; only 320 copies of the hypnotic Tower of Meaning were made the first time around, for example. But the previously-unreleased Instrumentals Vol. 1, which takes up ten tracks, is the real revelation, a ravishing, seamless combination of downtown modernism and the kind of otherworldly avant-pop the Beach Boys were making in the late '60s. — Michaelangelo Matos

19 For his fourth full-length (and first for ambient mainstay, Kranky) it’s difficult to pinpoint just what makes Tim Hecker’s Harmony in the Ultraviolet such a high water mark in laptop music. There’s no paradigm shift (a la Christian Fennesz’s Endless Summer), no sweeping statement, just a tactile sense of craftsmanship. Both granular and grandiose, Hecker’s washes of guitar and computer voodoo evince a sedulous sense of flow. The aqueous imagery isn’t coincidental — HitUV feels oceanic, almost like the sentient body of water from the movie Solaris. Within its abstract waves and turbid depths lie submerged emotions, which Hecker deftly draws to the surface. — Andy Beta

18 The emphasis on Scale, for house-music producer Matthew Herbert, is as much on songwriting as arranging and production — not entirely a new thing for Herbert, but one that he's seldom done this well. It's also a distinctly charged kind of songwriting. Herbert has long been an outspoken political activist, and that's sometimes moved into his music with less than easeful results. But here, he folds lines like, "Cover up when exposed, you ought to/Wise up to the things they taught you/Cover up, it's an allied slaughter/Pucker up, it's a friendly torture,” so cleanly into the sumptuous "Something Isn't Right” that you barely notice their bite until they've worked themselves through music that sticks instantly. The music itself is paradoxical: a feast of scraps, a cross between Chic on a budget and chintz-jazz so airy it seems transparent, only to catch you like a butterfly net. — Michaelangelo Matos

17 Desert rock is becoming a genre these days, and this group from Niger has the essentials down pat. Bluesy electric guitars are prevalent, though the focus remains on percussion, bass and the droning repetitiveness of superb chants and poetry. With the background instrumentation so tight, there’s plenty of room for the guitars and vocals to roam. The six-string playing is excellent, constantly weaving and ducking into handclaps and the calabash, but it’s the vocals that drive this project — all members sing, mostly in call-and-response format. Introducing offers just a taste of a band — and region — that is coming to light on an international stage. It's a platform we hope to hear more from soon. — Banning Eyre

16 The indie rap set likes to focus on old-school fundamentals, anti-materialist philosophizing and lyrical abstraction — but even they need to get wasted and make some booty calls. B-More cats Naeem Juwan (who raps like Phife on a Mountain Dew bender) and producer XXXChange don’t sound so much like backpacker snot-noses having an ironic snicker at bounce rap than they do a couple avant-pranksters with an ear for catchy ridiculousness. The production veers between borderline parody and futuristic speculation, 808 hyperactivity ricocheting off Robitussin sleazo-funk, and hooks like “strip down to your under-way-er” and “Coke and wet, b----/guns, n----, holla” don’t laugh at the Dirty South, they laugh with it. — Nate Patrin

15 Camera Obscura called their previous album Underachievers Please Try Harder, and Let's Get Out of This Country takes that advice: after ten years mooching pleasantly around the Glasgow indie scene, this is the sound of a band hitting its potential. That doesn't mean making any break from indie-pop's rules and rituals — all ten tracks offer lovelorn lyrics, unschooled vocal intimacy, prettiness to burn, retro arrangements and trebly, Dansette-ready production. The steps forward come in the songwriting — lead single "Lloyd, I'm Ready to Be Heartbroken" backs up its cute title with a delightful swooning hook. It's the best song here, but its straightforward pop appeal is slightly misleading. Much of the record is slow, late-night music, mixing Farfisa organ, slide guitar, reverb and handclaps and ending up wistful and snuggly — try "Dory Previn" and the delicate "Country Mile." — Tom Ewing

13 The wild, incessant and thoroughly unlikely afropunk electronics heard on Konono No. 1's remarkable Congotronics return bigger than ever on this multi-group sequel. Konono founder Mawangu Mingiedi considers these groups the "children" of the sound he pioneered three decades ago. Eager to have his tribal rhythms heard above street noise, Mingiedi fashioned electric likembé thumb pianos, loudspeakers, microphones and percussion out of spare parts scavenged from local junkyards. The result was a modern-primitivist marvel of tribal chants, distorted melodies and trance-inducing rhythms. The six bands heard on Congotronics 2 beside Konono No. 1 work variations on Mingiedi's sound — sometimes adding additional guitars, other times subtracting a likembé or two — without diminishing its intrinsic hypnotic spirit and playfully distorted wave forms. — Richard Gehr