Showing newest 5 of 10 posts from December 2009. Show older posts

Monday, December 28, 2009

The last time I'll bug you about this TOTAL HOTNESS

Posted by areseven

I need to put a period on my total obsession of the last couple weeks. I've shared it on Twitter and such and maybe you watched it/heard it, but if you didn't, you must. I need to put it to bed, but not without you crawling in with it.

This video is from an Italian variety show from the early 70's, made by an actor/singer/comedian named Adriano Celentano. The lyrics are gibberish, supposedly as "what English sounds like to people who don't speak it", but also apparently as a statement by Celentano about the inability for people to truly communicate.

But to hell with concepts. Listen:

People, this is the early 70's. The beat, the one-chord organ, the push and drone of the bass and guitar, the proto-rap vocals...it's totally modern. Paired with one of the hottest dance routines I've ever seen, it's incredible enough in 2009. I can't imagine how much it must have blown minds in 1974.

Also? All of those hot and fit dancers are now OLD. Makes you want to go out dancing while you can, doesn't it?

Monday, December 21, 2009

Sleeper Albums of 2009

Posted by xtianDC

If you're anything like me, as the calendar comes to its yearly close, productivity has a way of screeching to a grinding halt. Sure, the holiday season can have that kind of effect on us all. But I have to admit to another culprit: the year-end list craze. I may not be the most committed list compiler, but I certainly am an avid year-end list follower.

It's kind of amazing how in tune a lot of these lists seem to be, isn't it? You'll find no argument at Naive Harmonies that the likes of Animal Collective, Grizzly Bear, Phoenix et al put out stellar releases in 2009... but how about some love for some of the more unheralded albums released in the past twelve months? Listed below are five albums that this author has yet to find on the majority of year-end lists out there. Dig in, discover and enjoy.

Doug Paisley self-titled (No Quarter) [buy it]
Listen To "Broken In Two"

In the grand tradition of Canadian troubadours exploring Americana (Neil Young, The Band), Doug Paisley is a Toronto born/London based singer-songwriter whose songs evoke a kind of dusty country-tinged folk. His self-titled debut album is an intimate charmer that sounds equally great sound tracking a spring afternoon spent idly on a sun-lit porch swing as it does on a winter's evening sipping warm cider by a fire. Bonnie Prince Billy fans would be wise to investigate this album for all seasons. (Truth be told, this record flew so far under the radar, it actually was released in vinyl-only in late 2008; it's digital/cd release in early '09 qualifies it here.)

Lee Fields My World (Truth & Soul) [buy it]
Listen To "Honey Dove"

Forget the soul-revival. And please don't call it a comeback; Lee Fields has actually been here for years. Fields has been a mainstay on the soul & funk scene since the 70's, drawing unavoidable vocal comparisons along the way to James Brown. My own limited exposure to but a fraction of his deep back catalog suggested a leaning towards the so-called deep-funk movement. My World, an album whose gestation reportedly lasted over 4 years, flips the script considerably and shifts focus towards classic 60's and 70's inspired soul. This is timeless stuff, with impeccable production and wonderful arrangements. Fields even cedes the spotlight to his band The Expressions for a couple of bang-on instrumentals. This album lived in the better half's car cd player for months and made her arguments for driving a lot more compelling.

Trembling Bells Carbeth (Honest Jons) [buy it]
Listen To "Willows Of Carbeth"

Damon Albarn's Honest Jons label has been offering discriminating crate-diggers rare world, funk and soul releases for years. What a surprise then to find this offering: the debut from a Glasgow based band who draws a compelling line right back to the late 60's output of British folk rock pioneers such as Fairport Convention, Pentangle and the Incredible String Band. Trembling Bells' co-vocalist Lavina Blackwall darn nearly channels the incomparable late Sandy Denny. Yet somehow, against all odds, this all comes off as something more than an exercise in genre-plundering mimicry. Carbeth is the most sincerely and enjoyably out of time record of 2009.

Idlewild Post Electric Blues (Cooking Vinyl) [buy it]
Listen To "Readers & Writers"

Staying in Scotland, we have the seventh album from Edinburgh's Idlewild. Call this one the surprise of the year. Three years removed from the disappointing Make Another World, Idlewild seemed to be spinning its collective wheels and in danger of slipping into irrelevancy. Label-less, the band turned to its audience for the funding of this new album, a creative rebirth of sorts. What a shock to find the band sounding revitalized and re energized on Post Electric Blues, an album of grand, sweeping, stadium-sized rock gestures and hooks. They may never return to the thrilling visceral intensity of 100 Broken Windows or The Remote Part, albums upon which their hard-earned critical reputation was forged; but here there is a confidence, maturity and comfort in one's own skin. Few moments in 2009 had me reaching for the volume knob more than the one-two punch of "Readers & Writers" and "City Hall".

The Leisure Society The Sleeper (Full Time Hobby) [buy it]
Listen To "A Matter Of Time"

Sure, The BQE project was an impressive undertaking. But those finding themselves wishing and hoping for something more along the lines of the next installment of Sufjan Steven's mythic (and recently debunked) 50 states project might be wise to divert their attention instead to this London band's debut effort. The Sleeper is a swoon-worthy wide screen chamber-pop affair that is not afraid to tug hard at the heartstrings. Unlikely Ivor Novello nominees, recent recipients of a year's best tag from Rough Trade, and the object of unabashed affection from one Brian Eno? The Leisure Society is somehow all of these things and yet, a band that managed to escape 2009 with a puzzling lack of stateside attention. There are moments when one may wish that The Sleeper bore the mark of a band with a bit more dirt underneath its nails, but it's still a winsome and lovely way to spend 40 minutes. An impressive starting point, by any measure.

So how about you? Feel free to share with us your favorite unheralded gems from the musical year 2009 in the comments.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Top 100 Songs of The 00s: 20-1

Posted by areseven

The audio's been removed, but there's plenty more where that came from coming up. Subscribe to our RSS feed, follow us on Hype Machine, or follow us on Twitter.

100-81 | 80-61 | 60-41 | 40-21 | 20-1

20. Sufjan Stevens, "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" (2002)

As much as we all want to think that our favorite music is selected by refined tastes and considered selection, there's no getting around the obvious: it's our life events and situations that define what we love.

That this simple hymn hit me harder than anything else in Sufjan's catalog says much more about my childhood than anything else. I loved church hymns, and I loved Kermit the Frog's "The Rainbow Connection" the first time I heard it when I was eight. I love people singing together and I love it when moments of quiet restraint unhinge in subtle ways that betray (but don't spell out) a fiery passion. I love sad songs.

I can point out the beauty in the slightly raised attack of the piano or the introduction of new voices by verse, or how the wobbly delivery gives it a heartbreaking sincerity, but it comes down to this: I'm an Episcopalian raised in the suburbs and churches of the South by a mother who loved to sing and sang us "Show Me The Way To Go Home" and "You Are My Sunshine" when we were little. And that's why I love this song.
find it on Songs For Christmas

19. Hot Chip, "Over And Over" (2006)

I got to know this song through a few dance nights at the Black Cat, and it's a perfect dance track for Mousetrap. Strange lyrics, great dance beat that's heavy on the snare, but the jewel of the song is the middle part, with the incredible rhythm of "tell you, tell you, tell you, tell you." A classic example of a great song made amazing by one bit.
find it on The Warning

18. The Pains of Being Pure At Heart, "Young Adult Friction" (2009)

In my days on indiepop-centered mailing lists in the late 90's and early 00's, I noticed that there were two popular ways to romantically describe a song that you loved so much that it pushed you into some involuntary, strange act. These being sensitive music geeks, they were both in the context of listening to music by yourself in your bedroom. The first was "this song makes me want to lay down on the floor with my arms outstretched", which means that it was beautiful. The other was "this song makes me want to spin around the room", which meant it was energetic.

"Young Adult Friction" is so much the latter that I think we can go ahead and retire the phrase entirely (if we haven't already). The ridiculous twee of the band name and the fact that the song begins with a nod to the "stacks of the library" (I mean, come ON) are completely forgiven with the overwhelming energy of this track. When the guitars come back to their intro phrase after the chorus at 2:04, there's a little extra push of energy that sends the song soaring.

So yeah, this song makes me want to spin around the room, possibly with my arms outstretched, which seems pretty dangerous, but music gets what music wants.
find it on The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart

17. Mogwai, "2 Rights Make One Wrong (edit)" (2001)

If you haven't noticed by this point in the countdown, I love songs that build to a climax, and that's pretty much all this song is. Horns and organs swell around it and there's a effected gauze of lyrics, but mostly it's just the rounds of guitar and the pounding drums, leading to an overwhelming peak.

It's an incredible song, but it has as much of a place in this list because it's the last song that I was ever blown away by instore play in a record store. That will almost certainly never happen again.
find the long version on Rock Action

16. Of Montreal, "So Begins Our Alabee" (2005)

I was lucky enough to see Of Montreal in 2008 in their full, insane glory, and it was a sight I'll never forget. But what was even more memorable was that they played this song second in the night and I had no idea what it was. When I figured it out, I went into my music collection and found that I already had it. Which says a whole lot about this decade's music gluttony. Or mine, anyway.

That wasn't the first time I'd dismissed Of Montreal. In the 90's, I'd been totally turned off by their unbearably twee old sound, and had ignored all the hype surrounding them until 2007. Shame, because I would have heard this perfect slice of art pop (name another non-OM song that has lines anything like "you're my mousy aesthete"), a simple song whose only real character is its glorious chorus, with it's simple, clear hinge: "it's true".
find it on The Sunlandic Twins

15. Fiona Apple, "Extraordinary Machine (Jon Brion Version)" (2005)

Confidence in music often comes with swagger, but this song is confident in a more simple way of knowing what the problems are and what to do about it. Yes, it's far from sexy to call a song "efficient", but there you have it. There's not a single wasted moment here: every line is packed tight with astounding wit and brilliant rhymes and the melody swoops around with absolute purpose. One of the most intelligent (and fun) songs you could ever hope to hear.
find the final version on Extraordinary Machine

14. Fleet Foxes, "He Doesn't Know Why" (2008)

There's no shortage of beautiful, swooping melodies in the world, but there are times when a melody climbs and dips in all the right ways that there are no better words than "perfect", no matter how I overuse it. This song is a perfect melody, delivered by Robin Pecknold, easily one of the greatest voices of the decade, and one of the few people that sang from the soul, though the moment when he belts out "There's nothing I can say" is something far beyond the soul.
find it on Fleet Foxes

13. Stars, "Heart" (2003)

As my friend Peter put it, the Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way" was "a moment" in 1999 when a lot of us who had spent a decade or more trying to distance ourselves from the top 40 learned to love pop again. It was around/exactly that moment when it felt okay to love any music no matter how many other people loved it.

But still, there was something that we'd loved about the indie approach as well: that sound that it's made by people we could know in our daily lives, like people who had lived the same lives we'd lived rather than untouchable pop stars.

"Heart" is the song where those two loves come together perfectly. It's a slow jam, but with expressing love and longing as a genuine, deep feeling rather than a generic song subject. It's a duet whose chorus and climax we wish had scaled the pop charts, but we're fine keeping it to ourselves as well.
find it on Heart

12. Arcade Fire, "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" (2004)

This was a first-timer, a song that I was totally in love with even before it was even halfway over. Christian had pointed me to the Merge site when Funeral was still a month away from release, telling me to listen to this song because it sounded like "Pulp recorded like The Walkmen". Which is about as enticing a description for me as they come.

You can hear everything that we love about Arcade Fire in this song. It's a powerful build with a beautiful ambient-meets-crunch intro, an unhinged vocal moment ("then we think of our parents, whatever happened to them?") and even a disco beat there at the end. There's still a lot of time, but I hear this song and I can't imagine Arcade Fire not being one of the enduring bands twenty or thirty years from now.
find it on Funeral

11. Johnny Boy, "You Are The Generation That Bought More Shoes And You Get What You Deserve" (2004)

This is as hot as indiepop gets. The hard push overwhelms any timid indie twee, creating something that embodies the pure sound of indiepop in a grabbing, wrestling, propulsive thrust of sound that seems as natural as it does surprising. I don't really know what the words are about, but with the "YEAH YEAH!" yells, the constant push forward of the backing, and the vocals dropping into a sensual whisper before exploding again into screams, it's all about the sexual liberation of "Be My Baby."
find it on Johnny Boy

10. Billy Bragg & Wilco, "Remember The Mountain Bed" (2000)

The duo of albums put out by Billy Bragg & Wilco are studies in how to marry lyrics and music. The incredible words of Woodie Gutherie are matched more often that not with music that they seemed destined for.

There's nothing in the collection more gorgeous than this one, though. It's an absolutely perfect melody with varied instruments that come in and bow out, keeping it constantly fresh and create a stunning backdrop for words that ponder procreation and existence with such truth that these six minutes and twenty-seven seconds have everything you need to know about the meaning of life. And sex.
find it on Mermaid Avenue Vol. II

9. Animal Collective, "Fireworks" (2007)

As I got more into Animal Collective, "Fireworks" slowly became the ultimate example of their genius. It was a display of what people raised on rock music could create beyond the limitations of rock culture. It has a beautiful, complex melody with a chattering rhythm that suggests samba, jazz, and funk without being any of those exactly, or even remotely. It's one of those extremely rare songs that has the comforts of the past while also showing the exciting places that music can go from here.

I'll admit that this song is an intellectual love. It still gives me chills and begs to be repeated, but not in the same heart-melting way that a lot of the songs on this list do. But I love it for being a towering example of the incredible art that can be created when smarts meet heart.

Aside: the wordless, manic melody that opens and punctuates the song became my favorite whistling tune. FYI.
find it on Strawberry Jam

8. Belle & Sebastian, "Your Cover's Blown" (2004)

In the days of imports my college friends and I used to joke about scoring the rarest song find, getting it to as absurd levels as possible: "Their best song is on a Dutch limited-edition colored-vinyl fan club 7-inch b-side." We laughed about the snobbery, but it was a half joke, because we all knew the excitement of finding that a rare song actually was one of the band's best.

Finding rarities is rarer now (and why remixes and mashups have found a new resurgence), but there are still those times when a band has an off-album song that is one of their best.

Even if it had been on a proper album instead of a single/EP, "Your Cover's Blown" would easily be Belle & Sebastian's best song of the decade, and one of the best of their career. A indie-disco epic, it's also a story of the shy indie boy growing up. It's the successor of The Smiths' "How Soon Is Now": a night out where the conflict is not self-pitying certainty that he'll go home alone, but in serious relationships and/or the fun-but-unfulfilling life of making "a rough plan to sleep around."

And as the song goes on, the music brings out more of the hook in the chorus, so that you wonder how a good song became perfect without being able to find any one exact moment where that happened.
find it on limited-edition Japanese import multicolored see-thru flexi-mp3s

7. Dizzee Rascal, "Hype Talk" (2004)

An unfair high bar for verbal fireworks. The speed of Dizzee's vocals is only matched for thrills by his travels around the beat, transforming the grime rhythm with almost every line into something new. It's as exciting as a song can get, and I didn't listen to this song once and not feel that jumping-out-of-my-skin thrill at the impossible pace of the vocals, but the lightning-fast moments were only heightened by Dizzee taking his foot off the accelerator just to floor it again. A stunner.
find it on Showtime

6. The Lucksmiths, "The Music Next Door" (2005)

The fun and challenge of making lists like this one is trying to find in yourself the reasoning of a high ranking. Is it because you can intellectually back up the significance of a song or album or movie, or is it because it played a big part of your life?

As corny as it sounds, there's no more right way to put it: The Lucksmiths were my musical soulmate. They combined everything good of pop music--good musicianship, thoughtful songwriting, wit, melody--with the things that spoke to me as who am I and where I've ended up. I don't know if anything that I write about them will talk anyone else into fandom, but everything in my life is there in their music.

"The Music Next Door" is everything I love about The Lucksmiths in one song. It's the simple, bittersweet story of friendship, with a gorgeous melody and a killer ending, where the pop ba-ba-ba fades into the melody echoed with a trumpet.
find it on Warmer Corners

5. Neko Case, "Deep Red Bells" (2002)

"Deep Red Bells" catches Neko Case at a perfect moment on her trip from straight country and honky-tonk to sometimes-maddening experiments in arrangement. The belting out of the song's title is the single greatest show of the sheer power of her incredible voice and that alone is enough to make it one of my favorite songs, but it's the middle section that pushes it into genius. In just a few lines, she paints a perfect portrait of rudderless, violent lives before yielding back to the power of the title lines:

Where does this mean world cast its cold eye? Who's left to suffer long about you? Does your soul cast about like an old paper bag, past empty lots and early graves? Those like you who lost their way, murdered on the interstate, while the red bells rang like thunder...

find it on Blacklisted

4. M.I.A., "Galang" (2005)

The mixing and matching of music cultures has been going on for centuries, and accelerated with recorded media in the last 70-80 years, but it was "Galang" that was that "oh!" moment for me of how global music can be, not just in a way that says that one ingredient is added to another stew, but in a true sense of being a kind of music of the whole world.

But what the hell: it's a fucking banger, and that's as universal as it gets. The hook of the beat can take you anywhere in the world, and the chant at the end could take you anywhere in the galaxy. If you really want to, the song could be dissected into its various South Asian, North and South American and British parts, but as a whole it's just a primal song in a language that everyone (or at least, anyone fun) speaks.
find it on Arular

3. Joanna Newsom, "Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie" (2004)

There's not much I can do to convince anyone of this song's greatness. The very first time I heard it, I was overwhelmed, and it immediately became a favorite. But to understate it, I've found that this is not a common first reaction. More likely is that you'll be like a friend of mine who listened to it quietly for the first time, and when it was over, said, "If I hear that woman's voice again I'll kill myself."

This is a song that I would wish I could convince the doubters and haters of the fragile power it wields. The beautiful words and the tender attack of the harp backdrops a shattered voice. It has the feel of a traditional Appalachian ballad, but the shifting lines make it totally modern. It's constantly abandoning melodic ideas for better emotional expressions, giving the song constant build and movement, but it still lives as a perfect whole. It's great poetry ("Your skin is something that I stir into my tea", "waltzing with the open sea") seems to tell a lifetime worth of stories of defeat whose only sum is the plaintive, exhausted wail that ends the song.
find it on The Milk-Eyed Mender

2. Arcade Fire, "Wake Up" (2004)

In February of 2007, I was walking through my neighborhood one Sunday morning to get breakfast. I started feeling dizzy, and the next thing I knew, I was on a gurney in the back of an ambulance, unable to remember even my name.

I can't really call it a near-death experience, because there was nothing wrong with me, something I know from dozens of tests. But I feel like I know what it's like to die suddenly, to have my entire life--every accomplishment and defeat, love and heartbreak, frustration, argument, joy--come to a close in one quick, unexpected, easy moment, with the swirling sidewalk of R Street being the very last thing that my perspective took in.

I know that it was only coincidence that I started listening to "Wake Up" a lot after that incident (it mostly had to do with this video), but this song never sounds like anything less than all of life and death. It's when the concepts of the enormity and smallness of life collide; when total confidence and utter futility are the same thing; when the defeat of "we're just a million little gods causing rainstorms turning every good thing to rust" is delivered with passion, and the conviction of "I can see where I am going" is delivered with fear and uncertainty.

I'm sure you hear something different, and I hear an amazing song as much as you do. I can can't listen to it without it driving home the singularity of life that can end all too easily, putting a quick stop to every single thing you've ever done. And truly knowing this has strengthened my beliefs, but it can just as easily make me feel like everything is pointless. This song shakes me.

I guess we'll just have to adjust.

find it on Funeral

1. LCD Soundsystem, "Yeah (Crass Version)" (2005)

I could write an entire book about this song. Every moment has movement: a bassline is changing or the hi-hat rhythm switches up or a synth voice is tweaked. Vocals come in and and raise and lower in intensity. The major moments never cease to devastate me, and the minor moments are constant rushes.

It's a song of nasty grit and quietly considered intelligence. It starts without wasting a second and ends in a wasted mess, a spent shell of its tight beginning. It's meant for dancefloors and best with headphones. It has the monotone urgency of sheer volume yet still creates a feel of acrobatic melody. It's as ripe for heady academic analysis as it is for thoughtless wildness, and I've done both with this song many times.

It's a life's worth of excitement in ten minutes: exhilarating, exhausting and still somehow sad. It's a simple story with a million possible interpretations, and a climax (7:31-8:00) that blots out everything else in the world in a blinding, overwhelming shot.

It's a perfect song--one of the few of any time I can think of that's as soulful as is it considered--and if you love me, you'll let me take you through it moment by moment sometime.
find it on LCD Soundsystem

100-81 | 80-61 | 60-41 | 40-21 | 20-1

Photo: my nephew, Thanksgiving 2003.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Top 100 Songs of The 00s: 40-21

Posted by areseven

The audio's been removed, but there's plenty more where that came from coming up. Subscribe to our RSS feed, follow us on Hype Machine, or follow us on Twitter.

100-81 | 80-61 | 60-41 | 40-21 | 20-1

40. TV On The Radio, "Halfway Home" (2008)

This song feels so deliberately and fussily constructed that it's kind of funny to say it thrives on energy and emotion, and yet...here we are. As much as I love the constant guitar drone or the mechanic handclaps, it was the ephiphanous first line of the chorus that knocked the wind out of me the very first time I heard it, and it still does.
find it on Dear Science

39. Menomena, "Muscle N Flo" (2007)

Pop song craftsmen the world over know the first rule of A Hook That Won't Leave Your Head: use an everyday phrase, or at least something that has everyday applications. Now, I don't think that Menomena had pop stardom in mind when they wrote "Muscle N Flo", but they nailed that perfect-for-the-moment pop phrasing with "In the morning I stumble my way toward the mirror". Not many mornings when that doesn't run through my head.

That's the hook, but the true genius moment begins at 2:22: a baptizing swell of organ and then "Come lay down your head upon my chest." It's that precious and rare moment of absolute surrender to higher powers, of total overwhelming beauty. If you think that's overstatement, then we're clearly not hearing the same thing.
find it on Friend and Foe

38. The Dandy Warhols, "Bohemian Like You" (2000)

There's a pretty heavy emotional toll that personal history research like this list takes. You have to go back over a decades worth of memories and feelings and try to dust them off and see if you can tell what they are or if they even make any sense. Like: who was it in my life that had the theory that every song needed to have something that you can yell out? Was it a friend that I'm still in touch with or an ex-girlfriend or an coworker at one of the five jobs I've had this decade? It was someone somewhere, but damn if I can remember who it is.

Anyway, whoever it is must LOVE this song. It's pretty much, like, the best yelling song ever. Sure it's catchy and funny and a blast to sing along with and being in a sweaty club and singing/not singing "I like you" to someone you could really like or possibly just alcoholically like, but it all gets wiped out with the self-pleasuring, obliterating party yell of "WOO!"
find it on Thirteen Tales From Urban Bohemia

37. Missy Elliott, "Pass That Dutch" (2003)

Only Missy Elliott could make such a scorching club track so cartoony, and only Timbaland could make such a silly song so menacingly hot. This beat made it into a pretty good number of this decade's chart hits, but it never sounded nearly as good as it does here: the constant handclaps moving the song along while the one-note bassline provides the heat. Fun and fire defined.
find it on Pass That Dutch

36. Camera Obscura, "Happy New Year" (2002)

"Happy New Year, you're my only vice" is on my lips every January first, but this song is in my head on a lot more days of the year. The beautiful melody, the shy vocals, the back-and-forth "do you have to"/"yes I do" at the end have never staled. I'm sure that Camera Obscura's softness is a turnoff to a lot of people, but it's just right to me: a musical definition of "lovely".
find it on Biggest Bluest Hi-Fi

35. Mclusky, "To Hell With Good Intentions" (2002)

Usually, I don't miss having more loud music in my collection, but it's when I hear songs like "To Hell With Good Intentions" that I wish hard that I could get more intelligent guides to quality volume. This song is more Pixies-loud than punk-loud, but it's still a pure and simple shot of adrenaline, with a harsh and sparse bass, one of the greatest muted distorted guitar hits this side of "Creep", and a wicked and weird sense of humor. Sing it.
find it on Mclusky do Dallas

34. Jens Lekman, "The Opposite Of Hallelujah" (2007)

It's probably pretty clear by now that I have a better-than-average tolerance for twee, but Jens Lekman can test even me. I never could get into it until I heard this one: a song as right as standard-issue indiepop can get. There's that crisp 00s production again, a perfect complement to the raised-note chorus and it's fully satisfying resolution, "you don't know what I'm going through." I thought I was mostly done with indiepop by 2007, but this song proved me very, gratefully wrong.
find it on Night Falls Over Kortedala

33. The Streets, "Fit But You Know It" (2004)

Funny songs don't usually last long after the joke's worn off, but the appeal stays when the joke has insight. "Fit But You Know It" is about last-word brilliant on being hot for someone that you act like you never wanted when it's clear you never even had a chance. The constant lusting and then denying never loses its luster after tons of listens.

It's also a party cut from the highest shelf. Yes yes oh yay.
find it on A Grand Don't Come For Free

32. Loney Dear, "I Am John" (2007)

"Unrelenting" is a word usually reserved for metal reviews and not quiet falsetto songs by Swedish tweepoppers, but unrelenting is exactly what the vocals are here. They come so rapidfire that every line almost tumbles on top of the next, and it's really only the break in the middle that allows a gasp of air. By the final repeats of "I've got a feeling for you and we danced for so long, I want your arms around me like lovers do, and I'm never gonna let you down", the song has built to an incredible climax. It's a sound that's a lot like other indiepop and yet unlike anything else.

"I told you, 'Never gonna let you down, but I will always let you down."
find it on Loney, Noir

31. Barcelona, "Studio Hair Gel" (2000)

It's totally impossible to be objective about a band that was made up of four close friends of mine, three of which I was also working with while the band was together. It's not just that you're partial to the creations of your friends, but there's a surprise that goes along with loving your friend's art and knowing that you don't just have to pretend to love it that lifts the love to even higher levels.

But even when I step back as much as I can to look at this song (among the many brilliant Barcelona tracks), it still feels like a world-beater. It's a simple verse-chorus, verse-chorus, but the hook buries deep, set as it is to the perfect indiepop dance rhythm. Whether I love this song or just love my friends, I don't know, and I don't really care.
find it on Zero One Infinity

30. Junior Senior, "Can I Get Get Get" (2007)

Silliness, dumb fun and bubblegum. This is about as effervescent as pop--indie or otherwise--got this decade, and it was never anything other than a joy, obliterating any bad feeling the second it came on. "Why not?!" never failed to make me laugh, the chorus never failed to make me dance, and this song never failed to make anything and everything better.
find it on Hey Hey My My Yo Yo

29. Kleenex Girl Wonder, "Why I Write Such Good Songs" (2000)

If this list was was Top Songs That Should Have Been Top Ten Hits But Weren't, this would be the number one, easily. The first time I heard this track, my friend Ivan played it for me in his office (oh, the easy dot-com days), and when it got to the title line--"you chose me and you were wrong and that's why I write such good songs"--I almost fell over, I was so blown away by the genius of the line. And from when I've played it for other people, that experience of loving it immediately is universal.
find it on After Mathematics

28. Animal Collective, "My Girls" (2009)

It's hard to resist the temptation to call out Animal Collective's move towards poppier sounds on Merriweather Post Pavilion, but it seems logical to me. It's not like they were any strangers to hooks before 2009, and it makes plenty of sense that they would find that focus as they went along. Their art is perfectly realized here, making sense of all their noise, the head-thrusting beats and primal yells.
find it on Merriweather Post Pavilion

27. Lykke Li, "Hanging High" (2008)

It's a challenge writing about a hundred songs and not feel like some words are being repeated to ridiculous levels. I'm both tempted and terrified to make a word cloud of this list and seeing how huge the words "amazing" and "perfect" would be.

Slightly smaller but still huge would be the word "fragile". There's something about singers that sound physically and emotionally broken, barely being able to lift up their voices to sing, that just crumbles me in the best possible way.

"Hanging High" is the apex of that sound. The chorus here is about as breakable as songs come. Somehow the backing vocals make the lead sound even more lonely, and if there's a line that sounds as sad as "I'm back where I started at, you know I'm a little lost", I can't think of it. A song I love, though I often have to force myself to stop listening to it when I realize that I'm feeling sad for no other reason than repeated plays.
find it on Youth Novels

26. Kelly Hogan, "I'll Go To My Grave Loving You" (2001)

Kelly Hogan is mostly known as Neko Case's secret weapon: the backing vocalist with the pitch-perfect pipes whose own material never quite matched her voice. It was all enjoyable enough--a collection of good country covers and decent but unmemorable originals--but it was a little bit stiff, and felt almost slightly uncomfortable.

But her version of the Statler Brother's "I'll Go To My Grave Loving You" is as inspired as anything that her boss Neko did, and stands as one of the most brilliant covers I've ever heard. The vibratoed guitar is so sparse that there seems to be ages between each pluck, letting Kelly Hogan draw out every line into as strong a promise of devotion as you'll ever hear.
find it on Because It Feel Good

25. Beyoncé, "Single Ladies" (2008)

I always felt like "Crazy In Love" was a song of diminishing returns: a great pop song that after a few dozen listens made me feeling like I wanted more from it. But I never wanted anything more from "Single Ladies". A brilliant beat and one of the great call-and-response hooks ever make it the pop single of the decade, and one that still sounds exciting and fresh even after a year of every-pop-culture-corner saturation.

Also: it's hard to separate this song from the amazing video that John Legend shot after the concert at the Lincoln Memorial before the inauguration, seeing Obama make the "Single Ladies" hand wave two days before he's sworn in as president.
find it on I Am...Sasha Fierce

24. Joanna Newsom, "Sadie" (2004)

Joanna Newsom's polarizing voice takes absolutely no time announcing itself in "Sadie", shrieking the title line that dares only the brave to keep going. I have to admit that I couldn't cross that line the first few times. I could hear that the songwriting was strong, but I just wasn't sure I really had the stamina to go through six minutes of that voice.

It's one of those times when perseverance paid off, and in a huge way. The songwriting isn't just "strong" here: it's a monument to melody, arrangement and phrasing. It's six minutes filled with pockets of devastating beauty that nearly knock the wind out of me every time I hear them.

2:35 "This is not my tune...but it's mine to use"
3:09 "Stretched on a hoop where I stitched this adage: 'Bless our house and its heart so savage'"
4:30 "And I'll tell you tomorrow, 'Oh, Sadie...go on home now'"
5:15 After a gorgeous, ascending harp trill comes the killer: "So dig up your bone, exhume your pinecone, Sadie"

find it on The Milk-Eyed Mender

23. Sprites, "Do It Yourself" (2002)

Barcelona's breakup was a tough to take, even though they'd only been at it for three years and the reasons for the end were understandable. I was excited that Jason Korzen decided to keep writing as Sprites, but I have to say that I was pretty underwhelmed at first, thinking that Barcelona's synths were better suited to Jay's songs than the Lucksmiths-influenced Sprites.

After a while, though, I realized that it was the opposite. "Do It Yourself" is perfectly wrapped in the dry sound of acoustic guitars and brushed snares, giving it a warmth and sincerity that can be missed with machines. Of course, with hooks and sentiments as great as "Never start a band with a best friend, never shake hands, never make plans", it almost doesn't matter what the backing is.

One of the greatest thrills of the decade was getting to play guitar with Sprites. I've been lucky that the bands I've played with have made music that I've really loved, but this was different: this was me not only getting to play with friends, but getting to play this, one of my alltime favorite songs.
find it on Starling, Spiders, Tiger and Sprites

22. Belle & Sebastian, "There's Too Much Love" (2000)

It's easy to romanticize the creative side of music and imagine it as a world where you're crafting the perfect sound song after song, but the reality is more that you're chasing what you have in your head, constantly frustrated that it never turns out as you imagine it.

I don't know if Stuart Murdoch (and company) consider "There's Too Much Love" as a realization of their ambitions, but as someone who spent 1997-2000 in absolute love with Belle & Sebastian, this song feels like a crystallization of everything they attempted up to that point. The Spector-esque strings, the meeting of shy indie with confident musicianship, and the final realization of full love instead of searching cynicism all seem like the logical sum of everything B&S did in their first five years.
find it on Fold Your Hands Child You Walk Like a Peasant

21. LCD Soundsystem, "All My Friends" (2007)

In the fall of 2001, I turned 30, and everything philosophical that come along with the thirties were a huge part of my decade. I felt free from the expectations growing up that adulthood had to be a certain way, and I finally started learning from my mistakes and ease up on the angst. But I also realized how odd aging it was, and watched it change me and everything around me in ways I figured would never happen.

James Murphy's weathered words were messages of absolute enlightenment to me: the awkwardness of the music geek who's become too conscious of being older than everyone else at the shows and clubs ("when you're drunk and the kids look impossibly tan, you think over and over, 'Hey, I'm finally dead'"), and the simple, strange reflections ("You spent the first five years trying to get with the plan, and the next five years trying to be with your friends again").

The New Order-style guitar and the slow vocal build are foundations for a song that sings about the weariness of the philosophies of aging without actually singing them out.
find it on Sound Of Silver

100-81 | 80-61 | 60-41 | 40-21 | 20-1

Photo: My sister Mary, Bar Italia, London, Spring 2004.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Top 100 Songs of The 00s: 60-41

Posted by areseven

The audio's been removed, but there's plenty more where that came from coming up. Subscribe to our RSS feed, follow us on Hype Machine, or follow us on Twitter.

100-81 | 80-61 | 60-41 | 40-21 | 20-1

60. Peter Bjorn and John, "Young Folks" (2006)

The standard writeup of "Young Folks" starts and ends with the whistle, but the story of this song--a story that trumps even the most powerful of musical hooks it has to offer--is a song seldom told in pop: two older people--tired and bitter from too many heartbreaks, feeling too old for the drama of youth and too young for a quieter older life--find each other. They're jaded enough to expect the end at any moment ("Usually when things have gone this far, people tend to disappear") and find themselves talking for hours, enjoying it but too guarded to truly believe. It's a song whose cautious desire makes an incredible story that I found myself related to more than a little in these years.
find it on Writer's Block

59. Architecture in Helsinki, "That Beep" (2008)

It's funny that there's two songs from Architecture in Helsinki in here, since I could never really call myself a fan, but when they hit, they hit big. "That Beep" is as immediate as pop songs get, grounded in the irresistible tumbling lines of the chorus: "Dressed up as bubblegum, I'm stuck to your shoe, let's run, can ya give me that". That it's a bubblegum song was already clear, but it's one of those times where the obvious line is the best one.

find it on That Beep

58. Ed Harcourt, "Born In The 70's" (2005)

While the internet seekers may have mainstreamed a lot of music that would have been far fringe 10 years ago, it also meant that a lot of more conventional music was pushed to the side. Not that this is an altogether bad thing; the unearthing of accessible experimentation and new sounds was one of the things that made this decade the most exciting music decade of my life. But I often missed the more straightforward tunes that the music blogs never seemed to pay much attention to.

"Born In The 70s" is one of the songs whose conventional feel translated to square and was pretty much ignored, which is a real shame. This is a real jewel of the form: great hooks delivered with heartfelt vocals and chiming acoustic guitars. When songs like this hit the bullseye so squarely, it made me miss the entire genre.
find it on Until Tomorrow Then - The Best Of Ed Harcourt

57. Nouvelle Vague, "In A Manner of Speaking" (2005)

For a summer, Nouvelle Vauge felt like a revelation. Playing British new wave songs as bossa nova felt perfect and right, breathing new life into songs that felt as though they could only be of one time and place. "In A Manner Of Speaking" in particular hit perfectly, taking Tuxedomoon's stilted and overly arty original and turning into a hip-swiveling heartbreaker.

Then Nouvelle Vague felt like they had to vary their rhythm, which they probably did, but it ruined everything. We have that one album, though.
find it on Nouvelle Vague

56. Hercules & Love Affair (featuring Antony), "Blind" (2008)

Antony was one of those artists who I could never really get into, mostly because he sang every song exactly the same way. But on "Blind", away from his dramatic piano prop and on top of a fantastic new-disco track, he's a new revelation. He gives the song just enough convention to be catchy, but still leaves it formless enough to stay as a great dance track in the tradition of New Order. And most of all, his melodramatic voice loosens up and makes this a perfect mesh of the serious and funloving.
find it on Hercules And Love Affair

55. The Killers, "All These Things I've Done" (2004)

I once read an interview with Killers singer Brandon Flowers where he talked about how eye-opening the Strokes and White Stripes were to them, so we can thank the revival of gritty rock in the early part of the decade for the fact that this song still has an incredible strength and sincerity instead of being over-produced to a lifeless pulp. The "I got soul but I'm not a soldier" line may have made me cringe every time, but the entire track had such a beautiful energy that I never minded the Killer's melodrama for a single second.
find it on Hot Fuss

54. Mark Ronson (featuring Amy Winehouse), "Valerie" (2007)

A good cover version is a tricky thing, but "Valerie" is a great one, taking the pub rock of the Zuton's original and simply doubling the beat and adding horns and Amy Winehouse's spectacular voice to create something that would have sounded more at home on Motown in 1967. Winehouse's own Back To Black (which Ronson produced) was a great record in its own, but she never matched the vocal high she hits here, especially on the line "did you get a good lawyer-er-er".
find it on Version

53. Sufjan Stevens, "The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us!" (2005)

I wonder how Sufjan Steven's Illinois and Michigan will be remembered. The unjust memory of him would be as a sensitive singer-songwriter who was critically loved but only stood out for using a banjo. But that would be only one tiny part of hi. Often overlooked are his brilliant arrangements that added elements of orchestras, jazz chords, odd times, bleeping synths and noisy guitars.

"The Predatory Wasp" is probably more on Sufjan's sensitive side than a lot of the other tracks of Illinois, but it still has that combination of all his songs: careful orchestration with a quick and heartfelt delivery. It's a beautiful song, and that beauty turns devastating at the simple change of melody at "all of my powers, day after day, I can tell you, we swaggered and swayed."
find it on Illinois

52. Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, "My Man Is A Mean Man" (2005)

There was no shortage of soul revivalists in the last ten years, with Daptone at the center of it. The Dap-Kings turned out plenty of great stuff that sounded like it was from the 60's, but in "My Man Is A Mean Man", that sound gets a modern boost of speed with some jump-out-your-seat excitement. The guitar chords in the choruses are as on fire as music can get.
find it on Naturally

51. Arctic Monkeys, "A Certain Romance" (2006)"

I can't remember what convinced me to pick up the Arctic Monkey's debut record, but whoever it was makes a good argument, because I had rolled my eyes to near blindness over the British music press's insistence that they were the bold new hope, only to hear nothing but yet another loud rock band. But then I went through the standard steps of Arctic Monkeys appreciation: 1) Whatever. 2) They're pretty catchy, I guess. 3) Oh, that's kind of a clever line. 4) These lyrics are brilliant! 5) THESE ARE PERFECT ROCK SONGS.

Then you calm down a little, but you can still see where you were coming from in step five.

"A Certain Romance" is the Monkeys (Arctic variety) at their finest. A ska riff gives a playful counter to the ridiculously loud intro, but not only do you get the rock-out ending that make so many of their songs great, but the lead-in line is a great expression of tough guy friendship: "But over there, there's friends of mine. What can I say: I've known them for a long, long time, and though they might overstep the line, you just cannot get angry in the same way."
find it on Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I Am Not

50. The Fiery Furnaces, "Sing For Me" (2005)

"Sing For Me" is a great example of one of the best things to happen to music this decade: the idea that experimentation didn't have to be devoid of easy appeal and vice versa. The song itself is a lullaby with a beautiful melody, but its pairing with a insistent, double-time beat is jarring, and the analog synth break and piano outro make it more difficult listening than the sweet song itself. Of course, Fiery Furnaces gave mostly difficult listening, but in those times when they meshed conventional song structure with quirky delivery, it made for some of the most satisfying listening this decade.
find it on EP

49. The Lucksmiths, "The Year of Driving Languorously" (2001)

The 90's are kind of difficult to look back on. So much of the music lacked any sort of sense of humor, and the sincerity can be pretty tough to take, even in the best of music.

It seems like the 00's were a time of finding a way to deliver serious sentiment with some fun. Marty Donald of the Lucksmiths was a master at it. Even in this song, he provides a pun of a title (a nod to the 80's film The Year Of Living Dangerously) for one of his typical--but one of his most beautiful--songs of doubt of relationship and listlessness in life: "Has it really been a year? Where the hell do we go from here?" It's almost painfully sad, capturing a moment when the bottom seems to have dropped out of a relationship, and yet it's done with a playfulness that recognizes that even when things get serious and contemplative, it can still be done with a smile and a wink.
find it on Why That Doesn't Surprise Me

48. Beck, "Lost Cause" (2002)

Stylistically, the quiet and straight Sea Change was a massive change from the raucous electrofunk of Midnite Vultures, but even more shocking was the change from jokey, ironic, almost-meaningless word stews to raw, clear contemplation. The melancholy of "Lost Cause" makes it an emotional listen anyway, but when you compare it to, say, "Mixed Bizness" and wonder what level of hurt it must have taken to suck that much life out of the guy and leave him so low, it's devastating.
find it on Sea Change

47. New Pornographers, "Mass Romantic" (2000)

It's hard for me to write about New Pornographers without mentioning an article that I read in which multiple members of the New Pornographers said that Carl Newman "just doesn't write a bad song." And it's true, or at least what he's recorded. Now, there may be a sameness to a lot of the songs, but it's incredible how consistently good his songs are.

"Mass Romantic" is the first song on the New Pornographers first record, which is always a little depressing to pick as the standout, implying that it was all downhill from there, but here we are, with a stunning basher that uses every ounce of power of Neko Case's voice, perfect harmony vocals, and the ender choir of "this boy's life among the electrical lights".
find it on Mass Romantic

46. Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, "I'll Be Glad" (2008)

Bonnie 'Prince' Billy's album Lie Down In The Light was one of the very few albums of the second half of the decade that I preferred to listen to as a whole instead of as selected, shuffled pieces. It's one of the most beautiful records I've ever heard, and it's really surprising that my love of that record didn't bring out more of the appeal of his others. I really like all of his albums, but nothing he's done approaches the top quality of Lie Down In The Light.

"I'll Be Glad" is a fitting finale to the record, finding its beauty in a simple, achingly pretty melody, lyrics that sound as cynical as they do sweet, and ending with a burst of harmony that's stunningly gorgeous but painfully short, which, of course, leads to repeated listens.
find it on Lie Down In The Light

45. Outkast, "Hey Ya!"

It's easy to romanticize older pop songs because you don't have to live through the days when you couldn't avoid them. There's the douchebags that grab onto it and ruin it, there's the endless news stories about the artists themselves, and there's the playing of the songs themselves not only on every moment of the radio, but in TV shows, news montages and just about every available audio space. Once you get away from that, you're left with just the song.

It was really easy to get sick of "Hey Ya!" It was everywhere. But even in the days when I was completely sick of it, I looked forward to the day when I wasn't, and envied the kids who, in 2024, come upon this song and realize it for the perfect party pop that it is.
find it on Speakerboxxx/The Love Below

44. Andrew Bird, "How You Gonna Keep 'em Down On the Farm" (2008)

It's nothing new to say that Andrew Bird is a man out of time, romanticizing as he does the lyrical and musical phrases of decades ago. But there's few of his songs that so clearly nail a bygone time as this one. It puts in the present the concerns of farm boys gone off to see the world, but more than that, it gives us the chord changes that make older music never quite go away. "Imagine Reuben when he meets his pa, he'll pinch his cheek and holler 'Ooh la la!'" might seem hopelessly outdated, but when delivered with Bird's beauty, it's welcome in whatever time it finds itself in.
find it on Soldier On

43. Jarvis Cocker, "Big Julie" (2007)

Everything about about this song that makes it seem like the ultimate Jarvis song is exactly what makes it seem so unlike him. It's the kind of narrative he's well known for, but it's 3rd person instead of first. It's the type of chamber ballad that Pulp had plenty of in their catalog, but with a much more ordinary and insular feel. It's like seeing someone glamorous and fashionable in their comfortable clothes and glasses: same person, but shockingly different.

The change suits the song perfectly, though, giving it the best sound for the story. The climbing and climaxing last verse opens up the window for a hopeless story and gives the main character's future an infinite promise. "It will play until the day Big Julie rules the world."
find it on Jarvis

42. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, "The Skin Of My Yellow Country Teeth" (2005)

It's the sheer drive of this song that raises it far, FAR above Alec Ounsworth's affected hiccups and yelps. You can hear it best in the twin crash-and-snare hits at the end of the song, and the manic guitar line lifts me every time. It's no wonder that it became one of Mousetrap's standards: there is no way to stay in your seat when this song is playing.
find it on Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

41. Mull Historical Society, "The Supermarket Strikes Back" (2003)

Mull Historical Society's debut was a favorite. Most of the songs on the record had immediate and irresistible hooks, though after a few listens, the same hooks kind of revealed themselves as pretty conventional. It was still a hell of a fun listen, but the surface never really got too scratched.

On MHS's second record, though, the hooks became much more sophisticated, and there was nothing better than this track: a slow build with a subtle hook, deeply cynical lyrics and harmonies and textures that are much more mood than just straight influence. By the time he gets to the last repetition of "this is the last time that I'll sit...", it's gotten a stunning pop fullness. Colin MacIntyre was never able to follow up on this promise, but this song is so fully realized that that never really mattered.
find it on Us

100-81 | 80-61 | 60-41 | 40-21 | 20-1

Photo: Hans and me waiting on the Metro back from Christian & Nicole's rehearsal dinner, November, 2006.