87. Gorillaz – Clint Eastwood
Some things just look like shit on paper. One glance at them and you say “huh, not gonna happen” and just avoid the potential train wreck altogether. And that’s exactly what a song created by a washed up Britpop singer, a raspy underground MC, a sci-fi and electronics hip-hop producer, and an ANIMATOR looks like on paper. Train wreck. But just like they say (no one says this) don’t judge an Animal Collective album by the optical illusion printed on the front. And what Damon Albarn, Del the Funkee Homosapian, Dan “The Automator” Nakamura, and Jamie Hewlett did on 2001’s “Clint Eastwood” is anything but the jumbled mess of influences it seems to be on paper. It’s the best eerie hip-pop electronic “Thriller” jam ever. Also, it’s the only eerie hip-pop electronic “Thriller” jam ever.
With horror-show strings, the fakest harmonica noise ever committed to plastic, and the dirtiest piano groove since Dr. Dre dropped the G-funk act, Gorillaz lay down a beat weirder and more head-bob inducing than anything in the pop landscape. And this is pop, don’t get me wrong. There is dub, and hip-hop, and indie, and edm, and a host of other things mixed in there, but this is primarily pop. And just like all the pop out there, this song has stars.
The first is Damon Albarn. Singing the creepy funhouse refrain that hits harder than any sample Kanye could dig up from the ‘70s, Albarn (as cartoon character 2D) carries the song and, in fact, the entire Gorillaz album with his alternately deeply emotional and oddly detached vocals. This is the same voice from Blur, but it’s not the same singer.
The other star is obviously Del. When he growls into the song like the titular baboon at :40, this shit is on. With clean recording and exceptionally clear diction, Del gets the dirt in his rhyme from his own thick voice, and rolls through the song with gravitas and a snarl that are frankly necessary to keep up the Dark Tower sci-fi-Wild-West theme of the song. It’s a mash up in every way possible, and on paper, maybe it does look like shit. But coming out of the speakers? It’s pure pop music at it’s finest.
Gallup, Stripper, Fireman’s, Ten Foot…there’s a joke here somewhere.
I'm just too lazy to make it. Polls, they are all polls (poles). And that poll over there is finishing on Friday morning, so get any last votes in. We're getting closer.
88. Panda Bear – Bros
Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow. Maybe you aren't down with something, maybe you're not in total agreeance, but it's worthwhile to be swept up in the moment and go along with the movement. Because sometimes, in doing so you finally get clued in on what is so special, and you avoid missing out on some serious shit. That's kind of how it worked with me and Panda Bear.
I'm not ashamed to admit that I didn't get this shit AT ALL at first. I wasn't really interested in listening to ten minutes of a not-so-great singer who sounded like he was standing in the shower while a friend dicked around on a keyboard on the other side of the bathroom door while listening to not-properly-tuned AM radio. Phew, that was arduous. But I ran with it anyway, got the album, listened to it a couple times, and I got hooked for one reason only - I love the Beach Boys.
And on listen three of "Bros" I realized that this song is a brilliantly drawn-out, sample-based update of The Beach Boys harmonies I've loved my whole life. So what if it repeats, seemingly unnecessarily, for five minute chunks. When something is beautiful, I want more of it. And with the sunny harmonies and chiming drones that Panda Bear creates here, it feels like laying in the sun for 12 minutes, soaking up the rays and starting to fall into a sweeping half-nap. You know, where you know you shouldn't, but you start to fall asleep a little anyway? But you never really fall totally into sleep, because you know you have to keep an eye on the time? That's what this whole song feels like to me. A gorgeous, sunny dream state that washes in and recedes out in what becomes a blissfully SHORT 12 minutes, shorter every time I listen. And if I hadn't jumped on board against my natural aesthetic instincts when Panda Bear released the album in 2007, I would've totally missed out. Lesson learned.
90. My Morning Jacket – Gideon
For me to really love a band, they have to kick ass live. I can like a band ok if they’re not great on stage. But to be a band that a recommend to others, that I will actually buy the albums of, that I will want a shirt or an action figure or an $80 special edition vinyl set of (yes I have all these things), then they have to be able to do it live. It’s the mark of a real band. In the olden days, it’s all there was – if you couldn’t play live, well then, you weren’t making money. And, in an age of Myspace breaks (Lily Allen) and record deals before shows (Arctic Monkeys) and overly synthesized stars (take your pick) I think mainstream music has lost sight of the importance of live music.
My Morning Jacket kick ass live. So much, in fact, that after my first time seeing them, I excitedly told my friends I had just witnessed the best live band I had ever seen. It was Lollapalooza 2006, and they only had an hour set, but god damn. They did with that 60 minutes on a shared staged what other bands can’t aspire to do in two hour headline gigs. I have seen them twice more since then, in wholly epic settings. But I will never get over the sudden and stark realization that I was seeing possibly the world’s best live band, and they were melting the faces off of hordes of unsuspecting festival-goers who had expected to stand around twiddling thumbs until Death Cab came on next.
Oh yeah, and their music is brilliant too. Example A – “Gideon” from the band’s 2005 breakout masterpiece Z, an album that prompted Rolling Stone to call My Morning Jacket “America’s answer to Radiohead.” The song is a gorgeous, alternately twinkling and towering howl against the war in Iraq, the religious right, and the global view of the U.S. as a nation of lemmings. With a glimmering guitar intro, the band quietly pushes out into an ocean of muted noise, a place where Jim James’ elegant tenor floats over waves of noise. James murmurs, coos, and howls stirring words over building guitars and pounding drums and, in this video, aching strings. And when he sings “Listen, listen/Most of us believe this is wrong” I can't help but feel like I want Jim James speaking for me ALL the time. I’ll say it. I’d vote for Jim James. And then just as quickly as the band has drifted into a sea of shimmering tones, the gang kicks it into high gear and James lets out a skin-tingling yelp. Then the band proves my point, you know, the one about kicking ass live. Just watch that. Watch how they are a band, not a couple guys on stage dicking around on their instruments. That there is a BAND. I’m not even going to describe what happens from 3:10 on. Just nod and enjoy. I can only hope that young bands take this as their example and start out the right way – working their asses off to be a real, live band.
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