everybody else is doing it

I have a problem with making lists like this. It was a difficult decision to start the "best of the '00s" posts because it assumes that someone out there, besides me, cares about what I think. But, no one is forcing you to read this (assuming that somebody out there is, in fact, reading this). I've been enjoying it and everybody else is doing it so, here's another list for you.

This one is pretty straight forward. No little anecdotes or explanations. Just a simple list from 25 to 1 of my favorite albums of 2009. It IS in specific order, counting down from favorite to most favorite (key word being "favorite." This is all about my personal taste). I've thrown in some of my favorite cover art from those on the list as well, in an attempt to make this more interesting. If, by chance, there are albums included that you haven't heard of, I encourage you to check them out 'cause they're all good!




25. Major Lazer - Guns Don't Kill People...Lazers Do
24. Here We Go Magic - Here We Go Magic
23. Fever Ray - Fever Ray
22. Telefon Tel Aviv - Immolate Yourself
21. The Raveonettes - In and Out of Control



20. Passion Pit - Manners
19. The xx - xx
18. The Flaming Lips - Embryonic
17. Wilco - (The Album)
16. Volcano Choir - Unmap



15. Bibio - Ambivalence Avenue
14. DOOM - Born Like This
13. Atlas Sound - Logos
12. Phoenix - Wolfgang Amedeus Phoenix
11. Camera Obscura - My Maudlin Career



10. Mos Def - The Ecstatic
9. Bat For Lashes - Two Suns
8. Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca
7. J. Tillman - Year in the Kingdom
6. St. Vincent - Actor



5. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - It's Blitz!
4. The Appleseed Cast - Sagarmatha
3. Neko Case - Middle Cyclone
2. Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest
1. Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion

I enjoyed all the music this year, but I could not be more ready for 2009 to come to an end. Be safe and have a better 2010!

best of the '00s, pt. 4

In response to a Paste magazine article, I've been listing what I feel to be the best 50 albums of the past decade, in no particular order. A reminder about the parameters - Paste set out to make a list of artists that "shaped your decade". I'm considering that as well as overall influence, innovation, originality and above all, my personal taste. Here are 35 through 31. Two of them Paste and I agree on. I bet you could figure out which two...




35. M83 - Saturdays=Youth (2008)

To say that I was obsessed with this album might a bit of an understatement. I saw the band perform live twice in '08 and "Kim & Jessie" is easily one of my favorite songs of the past five or ten years. Leader Anthony Gonzalez has changed his band's sound from electronic/shoegaze to something slightly more accessible, something more like pop music. There is more actual singing on this album, in addition to the spoken lyrics. There are actual choruses, in addition to the sprawling instrumental pieces. There is even a dance track ("Couleurs") in addition to the ambient sounds ("You Appearing").

This evolution provided Gonzalez and company the opportunity to expose their music to a new audience. In '08 they supported main stream acts like Kings of Leon and the Killers on tour in addition to headlining smaller venues. Don't get me wrong, they have not sacrificed themselves to the gods of mass appeal. They've simply become more complete. It helps that Saturdays=Youth distinct '80s sound (they also toured with Depeche Mode) emerged during a period when retro is in, but it fits perfectly with the rest of their catalog. It's a pretty great record.




34. J Dilla - Donuts (2006)

Maybe it's just me, but I see a clear connection between the rise of electronic/trip hop/DJ acts, like DJ Shadow in the mid '90s, and the re-emergence of instrumental hip-hop albums from folks like Madlib, Metal Fingers (MF Doom), Oh No and J Dilla. I'm not sure why that's significant, I just wanted to point it out. And maybe it's just me missing Dilla aka Jay Dee (who died in Feb. of 2006 from TTP) but it seems like he had it right with Donuts. This is the new breed of underground hip-hop, one that survives on soul samples and soft beats rather than grimy, basement bangers.

Dilla was one of the last in a shrinking number of truly great DJs and producers who don't just sample for fun or to make you dance but are real music connoisseurs, digging through crates of vinyl to bring you not only a great beat but a history lesson. What I particularly like is how Donuts was, in a way, re-sampled as several of the tracks were used on other records for folks like Common, The Roots and Ghostface. Jay Dee was a versatile talent, one that had already enjoyed a long history of success in the hip-hop game (his work on the Pharcyde's 1995 release Labcabincalifornia is some of my favorite). Still sad to lose one of the greats.




33. The Knife - Silent Shout (2006)

I've heard The Knife categorized as "dance" music in the past. If that's accurate, this is by far the most dense, dark and downright bizarre dance music I've ever listened to. You can move to most of it, sure, but it's just so interesting and unique. To me, most dance music is quite boring off the dance floor. Silent Shout is far from boring. I'm not sure what to call it. Electronic, maybe? Or, maybe just menacing and at times, disturbing. Whatever it is, it's just the kind of genre bending original material I love.

It helps that the duo is from Sweden. For some reason that makes things clearer for me. Ah, they're Swedish, that's why they're so strange. That's probably not fair to the entire country of Sweden though, and actually, I've been to Sweden. It's more beautiful than it is strange. But is it really a surprise that the region of the world largely responsible for bringing us the terrifying darkness of "black metal" would also debut such dark dance music? "We Share Our Mother's Health" and "Marble House" are my two favorite examples of the Knife's haunting sound on Silent Shout. The former is not so dark in it's music, but the vocals are deep and distorted, like that of a kidnapper demanding a ransom. The later is darker musically. Both make you want to move. And between them is a great example of a track that is neither danceable nor particularly pleasant. "Na Na Na" is just a looping keyboard with shrill vocals.

I enjoy how unpredictable this band is. One half of the duo, Karin Dreijer Andersson, released a solo effort this year under the name Fever Ray. It's even more chilling.
Check out their previously prepared videotape acceptance speech from the 2007 Grammis (Sweden's version of the Grammys). Truly bizarre, as we've come to expect.






32. The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (2002)

Before I had any idea who the Flaming Lips were I went to the Unlimited Sunshine Tour's stop at the Mann here in Philly in 2002. I was more interested in seeing the only two groups on the bill I had heard of - De La Soul and Cake. Little did I know how much I would come to enjoy the other two bands in attendance - Modest Mouse and the Flaming Lips. At that show, however, I could not have been more turned off by Wayne Coyne and the Lips. Their set featured video projections of rather unpleasant and disturbing sights like surgery being performed on an eye ball, a full frontal female photo that looked like it was from the '60s and school girl shoot outs from Battle Royale. There were several grown people on stage dancing around in animal suits and at one point, Coyne cracked a blood pack over his head and performed "Do You Realize" while the deep red dye streaked down his forehead. What a weirdo.

I described this spectacle to Andrea Collins the first time I met her and she implored me to give the band another chance. So, I picked up a copy of Yoshimi and after a couple of listens I decided I had to forget how strange their live show was and allow myself to like this band. I've always liked concept albums. How could I resist one about a small Asian lady saving the universe from evil robots? The album bounces like a big pink beach ball. It swells and races like a big pink shooting star. It makes virtually no sense, at least to me, but it's seamless and sounds fantastic. Just go with it.




31. The White Stripes - Elephant (2003)

I was working as an assistant manager at The Athlete's Foot (the retail store, not the fungus because that doesn't make sense) when "Seven Nation Army" was tearing up the charts. Most of my co-workers were strictly into hip-hop at the time, but all of them were into that song. I think it must have been the bass, or perhaps the persistent thump, but I'm honestly not sure what it was and I don't want to take away from the Whites ability to make hits with two instruments. For me, Elephant marked a change in the White's approach. They were branching out a bit from the blues rock that had made them famous and crafting songs with pop and shine like the aforementioned "Seven Nation Army" and the other singles "I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself" and "The Hardest Button to Button". It isn't all that surprising considering this is the major label debut for Jack and Meg.

Jack White is a genius. I believe it. Take a look at the decade he had, it's outlined on Paste's page (doh! I just gave away one of the two we have in common). Honestly, their prior releases, although solid, kind of all sound the same to me. This is the album where I started to hear a change and that trend continued with a largely experimental album for them, 2005's Get Behind Me Satan.

songs of the season

I feel obligated to write about Christmas music, mostly because…it's Christmas. In my experience, finding good Christmas music is not an easy task. Outside of a worship service, I've never really enjoyed straight up traditional renditions of Christmas music and for the most part, don't care for original Christmas songs. I like the classics, done with some style. Year after year I scour the web looking for that one hidden gem that has somehow alluded me all this time. You know what I find? Nothing. So, I'm done searching. I have a small collection of things that I like and for the last couple of years I've been content to keep that in rotation. There is nothing surprising about the contents of my collection, at least in my opinion. There's nothing controversial here, no guilty pleasures (except for maybe Amy Grant's "Breath of Heaven" and the Barenaked Ladies w/Sarah McLachlan singing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman" - freely admitted, however. It's hard to find good Christmas music!).

My favorites are without a doubt Sufjan Stevens' five disc set Songs for Christmas and Vince Guaraldi's music for A Charlie Brown Christmas. John Fahey's New Possibility collection is pretty good too. I love Belle & Sebastian's version of "O Come O Come Emmanuel," Feist's version of "Lo, How A Rose E're Blooming," and the Temptations classic rendition of "Silent Night". And that pretty much does it for me. Sure, I have a bunch of other stuff that is listenable. I have acquired various other Christmas collections that feature traditional classics being performed in traditional ways such as Herman Apple's Ses Carillons Et Ses Percussions. I was also given an album of instrumental Christmas music that sounds like it was made in a rollerskating rink in the 1960's. It's pretty great, but I have no idea who performed it, unfortunately (This is the price I pay for hoarding music. I often don't have much information about the album).

What I'm finding is that I'm becoming increasingly intolerant of Christmas music that has nothing to do with Christ. I'm becoming less and less interested in the traditions of Christmas, the tasks that keep us all running around, busy with things that have nothing to do with why we take time to celebrate this time of year. I caught the last few minutes of A Charlie Brown Christmas the other night on television and was struck by how unashamed it is of the gospel. Vince Guaraldi isn't the only thing I love about the Peanuts. The children hum as Linus reads the from the Bible, giving Charlie Brown a lesson about the real meaning of Christmas. How great is that?! I almost couldn't believe it was being played on television. I guess some Christmas traditions are okay.

Merry Christmas!

best of the '00s, pt. 3

In response to a Paste magazine article, I've been listing what I feel to be the best 50 albums of the past decade, in no particular order. The ten I've posted so far were not included in Paste's list. The next five, however, Paste and I agree on. Here are 40 through 36.

40. Coldplay - A Rush of Blood to the Head (2002)

I must admit that when I heard "Yellow" for the first time back in 2000, I turned the radio off. Ugh. Another cookie cutter, sad sap pop band. A couple of my friends ran out and bought Parachutes and I secretly scoffed at them. Suckers. A couple of years later I was a tiny bit smarter. I had taken some recording classes at Temple and had been around a few musicians whose art and opinions I respected greatly (boy, I sound like a snob, don't I?). I found out that these dudes listened to Coldplay too. They were fans, with t-shirts and everything. This was enough to make me feel like I had to give the band a second chance. One listen to "Clocks" and I was pretty much sold. The repetitive drums, the circling piano and the airy feel make for a big sound.

Now I have a bit of a hard time calling this pop music. But if it is, it's the good kind - like U2, circa 1990. Rush of Blood made Coldplay huge - like U2 circa 1990. Enter your next international super band. This album is near perfect. The second half falls off a bit, but they resurrected piano driven rock music, filling a void left by Radiohead's metamorphosis. Too bad they couldn't live up to the hype this album created (burn!).




39. Beck - Sea Change (2002)

I would like to start by saying that I think producer/mixer/sound engineer extraordinaire Nigel Godrich is a genius. He's been behind almost all of Radiohead's work, Air's brilliant Talkie Walkie, Paul McCartney's solid Chaos and Creation in the Backyard and this, his second of three albums with Beck (the other two being Mutations and The Information). Godrich takes the simple and makes it sound beautiful. He has a way of stripping the sound down to it's core and then layering it on itself, like mom dressing you up on snow days. Take "Lost Cause," for example. It's a folk song at it's core. It's Beck, a guitar and some lite drums. But Godrich adds texture with distorted vocals weaving in and out of the background and Beck's own voice layered on itself. I just think the man does exactly what a good producer should. He brings out the best in the talent he works with and doesn't tread on their sound in process, he simply gives it a new, clear voice.

Beck deserves just as much credit for this album, of course. Agreeing to put down the sampling machines and computer trickery, he explores his deep sea of sadness with live instruments. After all, a good producer can only do his work with a willing talent (if you're in the Strokes and you're reading this, yes, I'm talking to you. Also, thank you for reading my blog). The result of Beck's willingness is a tragically beautiful record that is as equally inspiring as it is depressing. I still can't decide how serious he is about "The Golden Age".




38. The Strokes - Is This It? (2002)

Speaking of the Strokes, they happened to make a few decent records this decade as well. Highly anticipated and overly hyped are defined here. Bring us the band that represents the sound of New York's underground punk, post-punk, garage rock movement. If the Yeah Yeah Yeahs or Interpol are not available, I'll take the Strokes. I've read a lot of bad press about these guys recently. Their subsequent releases just seemed to keep letting everyone down somehow. Well, I wasn't expecting much so, perhaps I was too easily entertained. Yeah, maybe Julian Casablancas' writing is not stellar. Maybe it often feels like the band is selling an image and not their music, but I happen to like their rather simple approach to regenerating vintage classic rock sounds.

All the hype and image aside, this album rose to the top of a pile of other similar garage rock trend followers. I happen to believe that Strokes were one of the first to start that trend, actually. I also happen to agree with just about everything Pitchfork has to say about this album and am having a hard time summing it up any better than they do. I just like it.

37. M.I.A. - Arular (2005)

Honestly, I know next to nothing about dancehall music. I know even less about "bhangra". The beautiful thing about Arular is how it has introduced an international audience to those two styles of music, while incorporating hip-hip and grime. This is global dance music, celebrating the sounds of several different continents and I think it's brilliant. It's not only educational, but it pulls together fans of reggaeton, baile funk and pop in general to create one large following. A melding that record companies have to love.

To make this mixture even sweeter, M.I.A.'s lyrics actually contain a message. She not only dances around the globe, but is aware of it's problems and politics. It never occurred to me to shake my booty while simultaneously starting a conversation about poverty until hearing "Pull Up the People". I very nearly dismissed "Galang" as just another throwaway dance track when I first heard it at the South Philly Taproom back in '05. Yeah, it's fun, but I don't dance so, no thanks. Then I had a listen to the entire album and was struck at M.I.A.'s global consciousness. All of a sudden, I was ready to do some dancing for awareness myself.

I also love that her popularity has given beat-making wizard and now Philly resident Diplo some exposure (I beg you to listen to his 2004 release Florida for his DJ Shadow impression and to check out his project from this year, Major Lazer's Guns Don't Kill People...Lazers Do, for further education in dancehall/reggaeton/grime). Dude was nominated for a Grammy last year for his work on M.I.A.'s second album Kala. Love it!

36. Amy Winehouse - Back to Black (2006)

I, for one, feel sad for Amy Winehouse. Yes, Back to Black was a huge success and carried her UK super stardom overseas, invading our airwaves and media with her retro vocals and sound, but it also put her rather manic personal life under further scrutiny. I suppose that's the price you pay for celebrity. I wish I could say it's possible to separate her personal life from her art, but Winehouse doesn't seem to want it that way. "Rehab" is not just a song, it's her experience.

I like the sound of this album, the tribute to '60s soul and jazz. Mark Ronson did a fantastic job with the production. What I like even more is the modern twist Winehouse gives to these songs. They may sound as if they are from 40 or 50 years ago, but she's singing about things of her generation and using language mom and dad would not approve of. It's Motown with a modern view and it comes very natural to Winehouse. She has a big voice, one that is surprising coming from such a little person, and despite the booze and blues, is very likable. I have doubts that we'll hear much more from her, but she's left us with a pretty great record.

common vs. cummings

I re-discovered poetry fairly recently and have found great comfort and inspiration in the words of folks like Wendell Berry, E. E. Cummings and Mary Oliver. When I was in college I enjoyed reading Shakespeare's sonnets and was excited to learn about modern poets like Stephen Dunn. I managed to leave that behind somehow, choosing to put on a pair of headphones instead of picking up a book. I went from William Woodsworth to just Wordsworth. As I was reading the 100 Selected Poems of E. E. Cummings several months ago I was struck at the similarities between his writing and that of our more creative rappers, like say...Common.

Cummings created his own language. It had it's own rules and definitions and he paid no regard to conventional standards for writing. Sound familiar? Remember 1996 and the rise of Ebonics? Like Cummings, the hip-hop community employs it's own form of English, often altering sounds, shortening words or making up new definitions to get their point across. This is not new. What I'm appreciating, however, is the joy in unraveling the meaning behind all these words. It's a like a puzzle. There are Cummings poems that I have read over and over and I still have no real idea about what the guy is saying. There are rap songs I've been listening to since I was 12 that I'm still finding new meaning in to this day. I love the way both Cummings and folks like Common play with words.

Check out Common's first verse on "Faithful" (from Be):

I was rolling around, in my mind it occurred
What if God was a Her?
Would I treat her the same?
Would I still be runnin' game on Her?
In what type of ways would I want Her?
Would I want her for her mind
Or her heavenly body
Couldn't be out here bogus
With someone so godly
If I was wit her would I still be wantin' my ex
The lies, the greed, the weed, the sex
Wouldn't be ashamed to give Her part of my check
Wearing a cross, I mean Her heart on my neck
Her I would refelct
On the streets of the Chi
Ride with her. cause I know for me, she'd die
Though good and bad
Call on her like I'm chirpin Her
Couldn't be jealous Cause other brothers worship Her
Walk this Earth for Her Glory, I'm grateful to be in Her presence
I try to stay faithful

Pretty witty, if you ask me. Now check out his verse from "My Way Home" (on Kanye's Late Registration):

They say home is where the hate is
My dome is where fate is
I stroll where souls get lost like Vegas
Seen through the eyes of rebel glasses
Pray to God that my arms reach the masses
The young smoke grass in grassless jungles
Rubberband together in cashless bundles
We wear struggling chains
Divided only hustle remains
Making sense of it we hustle for change
Revolution ain't a game
It's another name
For life fighting
Someone to stay in they corner like Mike Tyson
Hypes fighting for hits to heighten they hell
Don't he know he only get as high as he fell
Show money becomes bail
Relationships become jail
Children are unheld
I wish love was for sale
Behold the pale
Horse got me trapped like R. Kell, I bail.
and it..

Then the song breaks into the "chorus," a sample of Gil Scott-Heron's "Home is Where the Hatred is" (Heron, a poet in his own rite, is often credited for birthing rap music with his spoken word/soul songs of the early '70s. You may have heard his poem "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised." If you haven't, I suggest you look it up.)

Now, here's a short Cummings poem to start with:

when god decided to invent
everything he took one
breath bigger than a circustent
and everything began

when man determined to destroy
himself he picked the was
of shall and finding only why
smashed it into because

Why has this not been quoted in a rap song yet? The word play in that last stanza is the stuff Talib Kweli and Lupe Fiasco dream of!

Here's some more from Cummings:

love's function is to fabricate unknownness

(known being wishless;but love,all of wishing)
though life's lived wrongsideout,sameness chokes oneness
truth is confused with fact,fish with fishing

and men are caught by worms(love may not care
if time totters,light droops,all measures bend
nor marvel if a thought should weigh a star
-dreads dying least;and less,that death should end)

how lucky lovers are(whose selves abide
under whatever shall discovered be)
whose ignorant each breathing dares to hide
more than most fabulous wisdom fears to see

(who laugh and cry) who dream,create and kill
while the whole moves,and every part stands still

His use of spacing or lack thereof, is purposeful. He uses parenthesis as most would use comas or periods. This is truly his own language.

I'm sure there are better examples out there of the similarities between Cummings poetry and rap music. I just happened to be listening to Common's album Be during the same period I was reading Cummings. I couldn't help but read Cummings and smile. I wonder if he would have been a fan of hip-hop?

remembering to remember

I have felt fragile lately, walking a narrow path between an abyss of sadness and an overly optimistic view of things to come. I woke up in the middle of the night this weekend gripped with fear about my future. After saying a few quick prayers ("help me, help me, help me" - borrowed from Anne Lamott) I put on my headphones and called up End of Amnesia on the iPod. For me, it captures the middle ground perfectly and it gently rocked me back into a place where I could feel the calm inside the storm. See, I've decided that life is a mixing bowl of joy and pain and much of the time, you cannot separate the two. In order to experience the joy, you often first have to experience the pain. It's mixed in there together and if you're going to drink from the cup of life, you have to drink them both (shout out to Henri Nouwen, again). It's common for me to see everything through the lens of my life and I often pull meaning from things that are in no way related to what I'm actually experiencing, but I really feel like M. Ward understands this mixture.

I believe this album was made from a place of inner stillness, or at least that's what I would like to imagine so, don't ruin for me. Ward remembers. He wakes up the slumbering past and recalls the things that have shaped his present and will effect his future. Have you ever sat on the back porch with a cold drink in the heat of the summer and listened to your grandfather tell one story after another, some with no point other than to give voice to memories that are precious to him and to recall feelings that hold great worth? I have. I want you to close your eyes and listen to the title track from End of Amnesia open. Listen to the low hum somewhere in the back of the room. Listen to the piano slowly rise, repeating. Listen to the guitar thumb it's way through your mind, pulling the right notes from your memory. Imagine you're sitting on that back porch and tell me that you don't feel as if you're in a place of great warmth and comfort.

The rest of the album is founded in that warm, comfortable place. Even the unpleasant and painful memories. Ward recalls one scene after another. Feeling the call to leave home on "Color of Water". Fractured recollections of a dark night on "No Half Moon". The confidence of healing on "So Much Water" and the pain of separation and loss on "Bad Dreams". Sober yet hopeful on "Archangel Tale," Ward, with his whispery voice, sings "Come with me and you'll never be the same...come with me, but you must come alone (across the bridge that keeps you from your home)". That's the promise of healing, the joy from the pain.

It's all here, not only in the lyrics but in the music itself, perhaps even more so. It perfectly reflects Ward's emotions. No dramatic rising or falling but steady and calm, paying tribute to old time folk and blues. It reminds me of AM radio, of some small southern town, of things past. He adds an occasional instrumental piece to bridge the memories and each feels like a deep breath, a pause to gather words and feelings necessary to tell the next story. Even the somewhat heavy strumming and aggressive tone on "Silverline" feels appropriate. Remembering stirs up more than happy nostalgia. There is regret too.

I've been letting this album hold me, in the middle of the night and while sitting in traffic. It's been my soundtrack for contentment. The hopeful lyrics of "From a Pirate Radio Sermon, 1989" are a good place to leave you - "Lost won't be lost anymore / hard won't be hard anymore / And I'm waiting for the day when I will finally know surrender / And the weak will not be weak anymore / I'll be waiting like a stranger for a train / for a headlight through the rain / I don't know the day or hour / but I can sense the final power".

best of the '00s, pt. 2

In response to a Paste magazine article, I've been listing what I feel to be the best 50 albums of the past decade, in no particular order. Here are 45 through 41.




45. Battles - Mirrored (2007)

Have you ever wondered what it might sound like if the Chipmunks were robots from outer space sent to earth to free computers from doing our bidding so that they might pursue their true passion of performing music? Then the Chipmunks form a band with the newly emancipated computers, giving us a strange combination of live instruments, machine blips and pulses and those famous tiny vocals? Well, look no further.

Mirrored is just plain madness. It's easily one of my favorite records of the decade and it's hard to describe exactly what it is. Essentially, I suppose, it is loops. It's one endless loop after another after another, piled high until a machine is formed that dances, sings and flexes. It's layers of drums, guitar sounds, synth sounds and over processed vocals that are highly calculated and assembled like a clock. Some call it "math" rock. Others call it "nerd" rock. I call it brilliant. If I could make or perform music, this is the kind of band I would want to be in.

I think it's safe to say that there is not another record on the planet that sounds like this. This day in age, that's truly an accomplishment. Many name "Atlas" as the album's best composition. It is a microcosm of the bands sound. One listen to "Atlas" and you know what they're working with. It's a bit bizarre so, it might take a couple of listens to truly appreciate it, but it weaves those layers into a bouncing rhythm. It sounds like the kind of rock music the Umpa Lumpas would have worked to. Much later in the album, "Trij" does the same, if not better job, of starting with nothing and adding one thing after another to create the tapestry of Battles best.

The drums on Mirrored are simply jaw dropping. Everything this band does with instruments is run through a computer or processor of some sort, except for the drums. John Stainer (formerly of Helmet) might as well be a machine though. The precision with which he drums is amazing. I saw the band perform at Johnny Brenda's here in Philly last year and was awestruck at his powers. Check out his control on "Tonto" or his pace on "Rainbow". It's flawless.

Also check out the video for "Tonto". Pretty great stuff.






44. The Black Keys - Rubber Factory (2004)

Yeah, you'd heard of the White Stripes. You'd heard their version of the blues and classic rock, and you may have thought that the Black Keys were just some copy cat band attempting to ride the success of the Whites. At least, that's what I thought, until I really listened to Rubber Factory. While Jack White injects his own experimental tendencies into the way-back-when sounds of the Stripes, the Black Keys are a bit more pure in their tribute to classic blues acts of the past. Their two albums prior, Thickfreakness and The Big Come Up are straight up blues records with a vintage sound. Rubber Factory keeps that vintage sound as the core and expands the duo's sound at the same time.

There is no departure here. The change in their sound is subtle. Dan Auerbach is still shredding and Patrick Carney is still pounding, but they seem to have developed more control which adds to the landscape of their sound. They incorporate additional instruments, more so than previous releases. "The Lengths" features an acoustic guitar, in addition to Auerbach's slid and is distinctly different from the blazing records they've laid down in the past. "When the Lights Go Out" has more atmosphere then we'd hear from them before, painting a mental image of the woods at dusk. "Act Nice and Gentle" is so very friendly, sounding more southern than I recall them being before.

With this album the band elevated their indie following while continuing to pay homage to the classic rock and blues legends of the past. It was a record that drew more attention to the band who have earned a following from a variety of folks like Danger Mouse (who later produced the bands 5th album Attack & Release), Robert Plant and now, Damon Dash, with whom they've released a hip hop record under the name Blakroc featuring guest vocals from the likes of Mos Def, RZA, Raekwon, Q-Tip, Ludacris and the late Ol Dirty Bastard. Now that's branching out.




43. Interpol - Turn on the Bright Lights (2002)

Forget the Joy Division comparisons for a moment. There are some bands who create an underground movement. There are others who attempt to take advantage of a trend. Then there are bands who so clearly define what the trend is about that it's impossible for others to have greater success. Here we have the album that is the peak of the post-punk revival. You can forget about trying to top it. If you were in a post-punk band in New York not named the Strokes, you probably felt your hopes crushed under the dark, menacing steam roller of Bright Lights.

Paul Banks voice was made for this band, this sound. If you don't believe me, take a listen to his solo effort, Julian Plenti is...Skyscraper. It's Interpol without the atmosphere. Banks' detached, unemotional vocals and Interpol's dark rumbling, their waterfall of epic guitar drone, are the perfect combination. It's no surprise that folks want to call them the new British invasion. It's understandable to want to make Paul Banks the new Ian Curtis (without the tragedy, we hope). What's different, however, is the feeling behind the music. Turn on the Bright Lights is the soundtrack to a love story, one born in the shadows to someone wholly unequipped of taking the pain out of the joy. Listen to "Obstacle 2" and tell me I'm wrong. Where Joy Division is minimal, where they are absent, Interpol is overflowing with both sound and feeling.

It's yet to be seen exactly how far Interpol can develop the sound started here, but I don't think it can be argued that this was an important record.




42. Justin Timberlake - FutureSex/LoveSounds (2006)

No laughing. Regardless of how you feel about Mr. Timberlake and his career thus far, you've danced to a song from this album. And if you haven't yet, you will. It's infectious. But, while Timberlake has a decent set of pipes, it's Timbaland's production that really make this one shine.

I've always felt like Timbaland's beats are from the future, but for the most part have been wasted on lack luster talent like Magoo, Petey Pablo and Bubba Sparxxx. I've never quite understood that. Why can't one of the premier beat makers of our time get folks who can actually rhyme to sign with him? Fortunately for us, Timbo seems to have the right chemistry with Justin (whose also given production credits). Maybe it was Justin's input or a new freedom was given with this album, but Timbaland's work is slick and shiny and sounds like it's from the year 2016. Up until this point his work has always had a certain distinguishable quality to it. The hum of his own monotone voice usually serves as a part of the rhythm, which you can still find here and there on FutureSex/LoveSounds in tracks like "Losing My Way". If it's not his voice, Timbaland will typically find another to sample into the beat, like the baby coos on "My Love" or the yeahs thrown into "Sexyback". Historically, he also uses a distinct synth sound in just about every one of his productions. That's true for this album too, but it's all streamlined, ready to travel through time and dazzle like a hyperactive disco ball.

When I first heard this album I thought it would change hip-hop, r&b and pop music to come with the way it stuffs all three together to near perfection. I'm still waiting to find out if I'm right and keeping my fingers crossed that the Timbs are not done mixing things up.

As a side note, I think this is the first and only record my little sister and I both have in our collections.




41. Norah Jones - Come Away With Me (2002)


Of all the albums Paste left off their list, this one surprises me the most. They seem to prefer singer/songwriters who make warm, heartfelt music the whole family can appreciate. Norah Jones certainly fits that mold. She has the voice of an older performer and the skills of a seasoned jazz musician, even here on her first album. What I liked most about Come Away With Me, however, is that it rescued us from the countless other talentless solo pop acts taking over music at the time and showed us that simple, well written songs by a singer who can actually play and perform music still sells.

This album was a tremendous commercial success, earning Jones six Grammy Awards and at the time I felt a victory had been won for music everywhere. Take that Britney! Jones' talent is clear in this blend of jazz, country and pop. I'm not really sure what else to say. It's just good old fashioned song writing. It's soft and tender and honest and quite pretty. The title track makes me want to curl up next to the fire. "The Nearness of You" is just Norah and her piano and it causes me to still, to close my eyes. It's a solid disc that saved us, temporarily, from being taken over by another lip syncing embarrassment.

i've grown up. why haven't you?

Dear, Raekwon. It's been 14 years since you released your first solo album, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx Pt. 1. That makes me feel old. It was an instant classic, complete with a purple colored cassette (that's right, cassette. remember those?) to give us something extra special to remember you by. At that time, I was drinking up all things Wu-Tang like it was water. I couldn't get enough. Then something happened. Some dude named Puffy or Puff Daddy or P. Diddy or Diddy or whatever the hell you want to call him, changed rap music into a big, shiny, money making machine whose soul purpose is to make people shake their asses and you, Raekwon, dropped off the face of the earth. Sure, you showed up here and there to bless a track or two for your fellow Wu alum, but let's face it, nothing you've done since '95 has significance (with the exception of your contributions to the handful of official Wu-Tang releases).

In your defense, I live in the rap music of the past. Method Man will never make another record that lives up to my expectations. So, you're not alone here. I am generally disappointed in all of the rappers from my past and that's probably not fair to any of you. But when I heard about your plans to release a sequel to the classic you dropped all those years ago, I will admit, I got a little excited. As a result, I placed a lot of weight on your shoulders. I was hoping you would rescue us from the empty fluff that fills the rap sections of our record stores (or on-line retailers) today. I went out and purchased, with my own money, a copy of Pt. 2. It was the first time in a long time I'd bought a rap record not made by The Roots or Kanye West. I wish I could say I was happy about my decision.

I will say that there is some good going on here. The sound of your sequel is remarkably like the first installment. The beats are still dirty and grimey, like that basement sound I came to love from the Wu. This is impressive as the album features a handful of producers, unlike Pt. 1, which was almost all done by the RZA, just like everything else Wu-affiliated at the time. It's no small feat that all the beat makers on this release were able to compile tracks that sound like evolutions of the '95 album. So, congratulations.

What I'm more concerned with, however, is the lyrical content. Why, after 14 years, are you still rhyming about shooting dudes in the face and coking coke in your kitchen? Is there really nothing else to talk about? I am aware that inner city poverty still exists, as does the violence and drug trade that goes along with it. Honestly, I'm not even sure what I expect you to say, I just feel like this subject matter has been so exhausted. Is this what is wrong with rap music today? Has it lost it's relevance? Or, have we become desensitized? I like "Cold Outside." It is lamenting the violence and poverty. It is street poetry, it's story telling. Maybe we could have more than that? I just find it hard to believe that after all this time you haven't found a way to observe the world around you and come up with something more to say about the state of things.

There was a lot of buzz about this record and a good bit of acclaim from both the critics and fans, but I just don't get it. Maybe I'm getting too old for this stuff. Maybe I'm too out of touch, too much of an indie kid. Or, maybe I think we should have higher standards. Rae, you're a legend and I'll probably still buy your next overly hyped release because I'm that loyal, but give me something to chew on.

a record on repeat

I have several former college classmates that would be sorely disappointed to learn to that I have become an "indie kid," or at least as much of a kid as a 28 year-old can be. My passion for grime, drum and bass, underground rap and new hip hop has dwindled. I am not ashamed of this, however. I'm of the opinion that the music I listen to is better than yours. I'm still a hip-hopper at heart. It's what I grew up with and I go through phases of old school obsession (in fact, I'm just coming out of one). But I connect deeper, emotionally with other genres and it just so happens that many of them are independent acts.

I'm fairly certain that the dudes from my recording class would wonder what was so special about the album I've been listening to lately, J. Tillman's Year in the Kingdom. First, I would have to explain to them that in another life (called high school) I actually knew Josh Tillman. That's the main reason I've had my eye on his work. But even if I had not known him then, I'm sure I still would still be paying attention. He is, after all, the drummer for one of the most successful indie acts of the past two years, Fleet Foxes. So, since I'm now an indie kid, I would be obligated to check out any work from the band members, regardless.

Then, I would have to tell my old school mates that it's true, there really isn't anything particularly unique about the methods used to record or perform on this album. It's folk music. It's sparse, quiet and straight forward. There are no tricks here. There are some interesting sounds on tracks like "Crosswinds," which incorporates cymbal scratching to create atmosphere, but it's subtle. For Tillman, however, merely the presence of cymbals on a record is something somewhat new. Until he previous release, Vacilando Territory Blues, most of his music was made with his voice and his guitar. His voice is powerful, though. He was right to use it as his main instrument. It's no wonder he's a good fit for the Foxes and their dreamy harmonies. The instrumentation he uses for Year in the Kingdom may be a bit broader in range, but it still acts as a platter to serve his golden pipes.

I suppose what I like the most about this album is what I remember about Josh Tillman from high school and what comes through for me in his songs. There is a weighted sadness throughout all nine tracks. Yet there are also rays of light and promise, acknowledgements to relationships both past and pending. When he came to Philly last month R5 Productions advertised his sound as "sad bastard" music. I think that's a bit unfair. For me, there is both sadness and healing here. There is darkness and beauty. I have to be careful when I listen to his stuff. If it catches me on the wrong day, it plunges me into despair. Most of the time, though, songs like the title track offer me a contentedness that's rather sweet. That's something that Dizzee Rascal, Madlib and MF Doom do not provide.

best of the '00s

I recently read Paste Magazine's list of the 50 best albums of the decade. It's no surprise, I did not agree with many of their choices. It struck me that this was my opportunity to start my own little music column. So, I set about making a "corrected" list of top albums from the last ten years. Paste claimed to include artists that "shaped your decade." They made some terrible oversights. Here are my parameters: influence, innovation, originality and above all, personal taste. These are 5 of my 50, in no particular order, because it makes no sense to order them. They are all too unique to rank.




50. Gnarls Barkley - St. Elsewhere (2006)

The opening track could not be more appropriate. The machine sounds of a projector being wound, the stumbling drums, the horns sounding and Cee-Lo Green bellowing - announcing his freedom to the world. After several attempts to make a nice fit out of hip-hop, Cee-Lo finally found a counter part just about as nutty as himself in Danger Mouse. Together they craft just the kind of genre melding, mind boggling, loony tunes that Cee-Lo's voice and personality were made for. This is not to take away from the fairly successful career Cee-Lo had held up to this point. He was a key member of a group that help define southern rap in the '90s. In fact, Goodie Mob could be credited for coining the phrase "dirty south." But his voice felt restricted. You had the sense there was much more he had to say, and a much more dynamic way to say it. Although his two solo records allowed him to spread his wings a bit and shed light on his psychedelic side, he never seemed able to make the move to the mainstream and break out of the box rap music had put him in. He is actually crazy, I believe it. But it's a good crazy, the smart kind. What makes St. Elsewhere so good is his partner knows just how to guide that craziness - with the correct doses of funk, soul and trippy beats to make you see colors and want to hide under the covers at the same time. It is a certifiably insane musical smorgasbord.

Danger Mouse is a mad scientist. You have to be in order to spend countless hours dissecting classic Beatles recordings note by note and have the vision to pair them with Jay-Z, constructing the Grey Album, the most famous mash-up record of our time. He'd already show cased his ability to chill and thrill, manning the boards for Gorillaz second release Demon Days. What he managed to do with St. Elsewhere is put music to Cee-Lo's wide mouthed grin while revealing the psycho behind it. The beat behind "Just A Thought" is just plain manic. Fitting for a song about the kind of desperation that drives one to consider suicide. "Smiley Faces" allows Cee-Lo to give us those classic soul-sounding vocals of his and actually makes you feel happy. "Necromancer" makes you want to lock up your daughters. It has creepy slow groove and lyrics like "With this ring I thee wed, a body in my bed/She was cool when I met her, but I think I like her better dead." Is it really any wonder some folks are afraid of clowns?

I wonder if either Cee-Lo or Danger Mouse knew just how appropriate and enormously popular "Crazy" would end up being? Something tells me they did. What they also managed to do was create a perfect example of the kind of creative goodness that crossing over should be about.




49. Deerhunter - Cryptograms (2007)

It's no longer uncommon to experiment with guitar driven music. That's been happening for decades and some guys in a band called Radiohead sorta made it mainstream. Some other bands before them like Pink Floyd, the Velvet Underground and even the Beatles have tried to bend our ears and stretch our mind's imagination with musical landscapes. Deerhunter is not any of those bands. There is nothing new happening here, at least not in their technique. This is an experimental record, one which every pot smoking, sticker licking psychedelic rock fan would probably be bug-eyed through. The cover art conveys that adequately. Much of the album drones and swells with ambient loops and fuzz and strings and in-between those moments are well crafted rhythms of rage, confusion and fear. It's strangely calming and a bit terrifying at the same time. But before I go on, it seems important to point out the physical condition of lead singer Brandon Cox.

You may have seen the cover art for Logos, his latest release under Atlas Sound. The shell of a man you see in that photo is not from some stock library. That is Brandon Cox. To say he's extremely skinny is an understatement. The man is skin over bones. Word on the web is that he suffers from Marfan syndrome. The Pitchfork review of Cryptograms mentions that he suffered daily panic attacks during it's recording.

I bring up Cox's condition because it strikes me as completely fitting. He and his band made a seamless recording that feels very natural, even includes nature sounds (check out the album intro or "Providence"), that often lulls me to stillness and then builds into a wall of noise. It's not hard to imagine how it might have tormented it's maker during it's creation.

What I find most impressive about Cryptograms is that natural feeling. It's especially surprising after learning that it was made in two separate recording sessions. Far too often, it seems, a band attempts to make a record to trip to and it ends up sounding disjointed, forced, loud and annoying (although, maybe that's just because I don't get high). I'm not saying that was Deerhunter's intention here. In fact, I don't believe it was. It's psychedelic in nature because of it's experimentalism, not the other way around. I have to believe that the likes of John Cale and Brian Eno would be fans of this record. But, then again, what do I know? I just really dig it.




48. Tom Waits - Real Gone (2004)

I sort of have this impression that Waits is never given enough credit. In my mind, the man is a living legend in American music. He's our Leonard Cohen, our Elvis Costello. He may not be as influential as Dylan, but he should sit on the same shelf. His creativity and his gift for story telling are unmatched. His voice is unmistakable. The dusty, backyard carnival music he's been crafting since the mid '80s seems to peak here.

Real Gone is the first of his twenty releases where his piano is not employed. There are also small steps of innovation, as with most of his other projects. "Top Of Hill" features Waits beatboxing. "Metropolitan Glide" incorporates record scratching samples, with Tom's son, Casey manning the turntables. On paper, those additions might sound a bit ridiculous, but they just become a part of the pile Waits throws together with all the other howls, barks, clangs and clatter he can gather from the junkyard. Real Gone also happens to feature some of the only political songs Waits has written, "Hoist That Rag," "Sins of My Father," and "Day After Tomorrow."

Although none of this is strikingly different from the few releases prior, this is a unique record. Everything Waits creates is one of kind, not easily replicated. This album is no exception. However, Real Gone feels much more cohesive than Alice or Blood Money. He manages to make his growls and groans, his honest balladry and poetry fit together likes pieces of a puzzle. Another compliment to his legendary career.




47. Modest Mouse - Good News For People Who Like Bad News (2004)

This is not their best work. The Moon and Antartica was near perfect. It was the definition of their sound. What makes Good News impressive is the way the band chose to follow their best album to date. This is a new Modest Mouse. It's not a complete make over, however. In fact, what makes the album so solid is the subtle changes they implement. Suddenly, they can be upbeat without sounding frantic. They can make music about death and loss ("Ocean Breathes Salty") while making our toes tap. They gave us an enormously popular song ("Float On") without abandoning the things that had made them successful to this point - a sharp wit, bent and mangled guitar sounds and the bark of Isaac Brock.

There is, of course, more than the hits here. "Bukowski" and "One Chance" give us a glimpse of the future Modest Mouse, with the kind of depth and rich sound that defines We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank. "The View" spins and whirls, like the old Modest Mouse, with biting sarcasm. There are sections of the album that stalls in spots, however. Like the rather repetitive "Dance Hall". It may not be their best, but this album went platinum and they did it their way.




46. Outkast - Speakerboxx/The Love Below

Like it or not, this was a game changer. I'm not even sure where to start. A dash of Prince, a sprinkle of George Clinton, a pinch of southern syrup and a smattering of dirty south tic-tic boom equals an instant classic. If you don't think folks like Cee-Lo Green, Kanye West, Raphael Saadiq and countless others weren't taking notes upon first listen to The Love Below you're crazy. I imagine southern rap legends like UGK and the Geto Boys continuously turning up the volume on Speakerboxxx and turning up their noses at the same time. Both discs have their strange moments and their moments of utter brilliance. It's probably not uncommon for some to hate one disc and love the other. Andre's is out of left field. True, his flair for the bizarre had become increasingly obvious since Aquemini. I remember seeing the duo at a free show at the University of Maryland pre-Stankonia and both loving and hating the white fury boots Dre skipped around the stage in. I'm not sure anyone knew just how focused his madness was until hearing "Spread," five tracks into his disc. At least that's how it worked for me - Ah, I get it. He's actually got a blueprint for this. Although Big Boi's disc is not a departure entirely, I imagine if you played "Bowtie" for the Big Boi of '94 and told him it was his future he would laugh in your face (and maybe give you a pimp slap).

The distance the two of them had traveled in less than ten years is remarkable. If you're like me and have been riding with these "Two Dope Boyz (In A Cadillac)" since the days of the "Player's Ball," you must have been shaking your head when they dropped this two-disc gem. Big Boi's disc could act as a career re-cap. In includes a little bit of everything. He's got the funk and jazz you might expect Dre to usually bring and the thump and crunk that got them going with "Ain't No Thang." "Reset" sounds like it could have been on ATLiens, complete with Goodie Mob cameos, while "Ghetto Musick" is a bridge to Stankonia. I don't know exactly what to compare Dre's disc to, at least from Outkast's previous work. "The Whole World" might be the closest. But it's mostly full of classic soul and funk melded with outer space. Not to mention a mega hit that both mothers and daughters can dance to with "Hey Ya!"

Certainly deserving of "best of the decade" consideration.

more to come...