The Listomania I make the lists, you shoot them down. Quid Pro Quo.

25Feb/100

Oh Look!

A new poll! Sorry, shit's been busy in real life, but things should start ramping up again for the SECOND HALF. Let's call the last couple weeks half time, shall we? Go vote ya fucks.

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25Feb/107

76. Eminem – Stan

There was a cover story on Eminem in an issue of Spin a couple years back that outlined the rise of Marshall Mathers: the Writer. Not the slumdog, not the MC, not the violent misogynist homophobe. The Charlie Kaufman of hip-hop, the brilliant lyricist, but most importantly, the storyteller. The story quoted Lorne Michaels, possibly the best eye for visual and humorous writing of the last 30 years, as calling Em a “damn good writer.”

“Stan,” from 2001’s The Marshall Mathers LP, is Eminem’s Stephen King moment, a tale of horror and deep emotionalism and regret from a tortured soul not unlike the story’s main character. Immaculately structured into three tense and climactic verses from a deranged fan and then a fourth resolving verse from Marshall himself, the story builds through epistolary (yeah, I dropped that on Eminem) crescendo, two sides of the some personality bouncing back and forth with spittle, rage, sadness, and confusion. Musically, the concrete-heavy rhymes are broken up with a funny at first, epic at the end Dido sample that, with a little help from the faint sound of raindrops and mounting thunder, gives hardly any respite from the rising black cloud in Eminem’s story.

And the storyteller reaches the most powerful literary climax of any track of the 2000s at 4:20, Eminem quickly cemented his place in the pantheon of hip-hop artists. The outcast lyricist, the substance over style, the heart beneath a raw exterior. Call him the Generation Baggypants Dylan if you want, but this is the eloquent and elegant voice of the last decade’s youth.

Bonus: I think there are four hip-hop/rap/urban/whatever the fuck groups or artists of the ‘00s that stand above all the rest on a separate playing field. Guess them.

23Feb/101

77. of Montreal – The Past is a Grotesque Animal

It makes a statement about the quality of concept of a band when a 12-minute magnum opus from a locked-away-in-solitude concept album sounds both urgent and necessary.

Seriously, the concept album is the ultimate attention-grab/egotistical vice?overblown production/high-falutin alienation vehicle known to frontman-kind. Sure, some have been commercially viable and career-ratcheting (Tommy or Zen Arcade) some have been brilliant if misunderstood artistic stances (The Fragile or The Soft Bulletin) but most are just vile cocksure attempts to be a musical Balzac (pretty much any album by an '80s band you/your dad are embarassed they listened to)

So it's pretty goddamn refreshing that Kevin Barnes formed something both meaningful and necessary with 2007's Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? And "The Past is a Grotesque Animal" is exactly what it sounds like: the earth-shattering turning point in an addict's life story. For 12-minutes, Barnes' frail intonement rides a terse and tense Velvet Underground-if-they-were-robots groove of grinding guitars, pulsing drum hits, and totally inorganic sounding humanity. At 4:20 when the "oo-ooh"s come in and make an already claustrophobic jam sound deadly, Barnes concept starts to take hold an enrapture the audience like a conceptual story should. And for 12 minutes, the listener is engulfed in a story unlike any other conceptually stunning project this decade. And the mousey girl screams "Violence, violence!"

18Feb/102

78. TV on the Radio – Staring at the Sun

How is this for a balls crazy comparison - TV on the Radio's mid-Aughts creative output to The Beatles mid-'60s creative output.

Settle down, this is comparison, not equation. Like when I wrote a couple months ago about the similarities between Owl City and Postal Service, I wasn't saying this year's nancy-indie hitmaker is anywhere near Give Up. Just saying they share some shit in common. Like the string of brilliant albums TV on the Radio released from 2004 - 2008 and one of the strongest catalogs ever released by the Beatles from 1965 - 1967. The Beatles consecutively released three of what must be considered the 100 best albums of all time: Rubber Soul (personal Beatles fav), Revolver, and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Well TV on the Radio consecutively released three of what must be considered the 100 best albums of the '00s. It's kind of close. But I don't know if anyone would've expected their knockout line of LPs just from their first full length release, 2004's Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes. And the band just got better from there.

But, the first strike in their mid-decade trifecta features one song that stands with any other song they've released. "Staring at the Sun" was the band's first single, a soulfully-obtuse introduction to a multicultural and multiethnic group of Brooklyn hipsters who up until that point had been known for pretty unlistenable noise. And all of a sudden, there was this track. With as much heft as the deepest tracks released in the last few years, Tunde Adebimpe's alternately spoken and yelped lyrics lead a minimalist charge inspired by usually disparate indie influences - some funk, some blacksploitation, some noise, some garage rock, a little Velvet Underground chug, and why the hell not, some disco hand claps on the fade out.

Dave Sitek tensely and tersely shreds his guitar for three minutes as the rest of the band tediously balances on a tightrope of noise, careful not to let the water boil over in their pot. It's three minutes of climax, the ecstasy Kyp Malone mentions in the opening verse. And when the guitar finally crashes over the beat and the impossible-to-contain aural enthusiasm is released at 2:04, TV on the Radio played the most understated musical release this decade.

16Feb/10Off

79. Ben Kweller – Falling

In my head, a lot of comparisons make sense. Usually, they don’t actually make any. Like that Pearl Jam are the Who of the new millennium. That connection really doesn’t mean shit, but I like to say it because, hey, the bands remind me of each other and I like to argue. But sometimes, these mental claims become a bit outlandish. Such as when I say to myself that “Falling” is our “Hey Jude.”

Yeah, I just dropped that. Breath it in, San Diego. One of the greatest songs of all time written by one of the greatest songwriters of all time. Compared to the best song on the 2002 debut album of a guy that sings about watching Planet of the Apes on TV. Eat it.

Now THAT is a poor comparison. But here’s where the small dose of verisimilitude in that statement comes from. It’s a strong piano ballad with a croon-y but sharp melody. It opens with keys and voice before rhythm instruments kick in with back up while never covering over the songs yearning, pretty melody. And when the song builds up, the drums and bass quickly drop out to expose the bare ivories, lilting along. There are tempo shifts, as if Kweller’s whim is controlling the flow, not structure or key signatures. And listen, it’s grandiose. Something I would shit on other acts for doing, but I just believe Ben Kweller. Like I assume people believed Paul McCartney in the ‘60s. And there is this killer minor-key shift that comes right before the “Fallin’/And I/Love you/More and more” that pulls at my chest twine every single time. The way he raises up into a falsetto and just bares it. It’s beautiful, and big, and honest, and ok, maybe it’s not our “Hey Jude,” but it recalls a similar feeling and inspires me to believe that our generation can make that kind of statement of love and caring if we really try.