The Top 100 Albums of the 2000s (100-91)
The 2000s were a pretty important time for me. I turned 18 in 2000, graduating high school soon after, venturing out on my own to college, getting married and having kids. My life has changed drastically in that time and the music I have loved has as well. As I grew up and as my life’s trajectory altered, the music came with me. I didn’t necessarily have the benefit of adolescence in this time so obsession rarely set in the way it did when I was 14 or 15, but I made my way through the decade with a clear soundtrack. This is essentially that soundtrack.
Of course, a top 100 list is not a scientific thing. I could call this list my “Top 100 Favorite” or the “Top 100 Best” and it would make no never mind to me. It’s all the same.
You’ll notice my weak spots on this here list (musically speaking, anyway, I’m hoping there aren’t to many weak spots in my writing – although there most definitely are a lot of them). As varied as this list is in terms of genre and cultural representation, chances are the majority of the albums that pop up on here will feature white boys with guitars. I can’t help it, I’ve got rockist leanings. With that said, there isn’t any album here I would consider to be anything less than absolutely fantastic and worthy or at least a listen.
And while I am just one man and a list of 100 albums is actually quite a lot, there are a lot of bands and albums that didn’t make the cut and absolutely deserve mention. So all apologies to: My Morning Jacket, Pinback, The Flaming Lips, Black Dice, Separation Sunday, Why?, Black Mountain, Alcest, Apple O‘, The Game, Don Caballero, Today’s Empires, Tomorrow’s Ashes, Phoenix, Broken Social Scene, Daft Punk, Sky Blue Sky, Big Business/Melvins, Sonic Nurse, Beanie Sigel, Bon Iver, Master And Everyone, Silkworm, Converge, Scarface, Ryan Adams, Joe Lally, Brightblack Morning Light, Queens Of The Stone Age, Sometimes I Wish I Were An Eagle, Calexico, Nachtmystium, The Mae Shi, Oxford Collapse, Electric Version, The Knife, Liars, Lightning Bolt, Hearts Of Oak, John Vanderslice and Neurosis.
I will be posting this list 10 songs at a time, ending appropriately enough, with the No. 1 album of the decade. I expect everything to be posted within two weeks. Then we can get back to my regularly scheduled programming (one update every three months). Enjoy (and comment)!
After stalling at 99 when compiling this list, I figured the best way to come up with my 100th favorite album of the decade (and the album that kicks off this whole undertaking) was to look at which album has been my favorite in practice. That is, which album do I listen to most frequently? With that being the case, the answer was simple.
Everything That Happens Will Happen Today felt like a pleasant surprise at the time of its release and it has only grown more comfortable, warm and life-affirming since. A far cry from Byrne and Eno’s collaboration on 1981’s experimental My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, Everything is a song album more than a sound album (I occasionally forget that Eno had his hand in the album at all). Songs like “Life is Long”, “One Fine Day” and especially that vibrant “Strange Overtones” key into Byrne and Eno’s original “electronic gospel” idea with precision, making for a listening experience that feels complete in spite of a few missteps and malformed ideas. When Everything is on course there’s little else that rewards in quite the same way.
“Life Is Long”
99. The Long Winters Putting The Days To Bed (2006)
There’s not a lot of love in the Barsuk Records Camp these days. Something about their thoroughly white, expertly produced, mostly Northwest indie rock seems particularly antiquated, almost charming even, like looking at old cigarette ads (who wants John Vanderslice and Nada Surf when we can have chillwave?). Even in 2006, Barsuk mainstays the Long Winters seemed like a band out of time. Frontman John Roderick has a voice that’s too masculine and true (and amazing) to make any headway in the current indie climate. His lyrics are too sincere and vulnerable as well. And the music is too in-the-pocket and professional, with the band whipping into ballads like “Clouds” and rockers like “(It’s A) Departure” with equal aplomb. This kind of consistency is no longer an asset. But sometimes it’s the times that are wrong, not the ones on the outside looking in. Does anyone actually think that kid from Wavves is ever going to write a song as good as “Honest”? Putting The Days To Bed is a big-hearted album with charm, intelligence and heart. Those are the kinds of things that never go out of style.
“Honest”
98. Kanye West 808s & Heartbreaks (2008)
Never has anyone gone so far by putting his worst foot forward than Kanye West. Forget about all the stage crashes, presidential disses and inopportune meltdowns, Kanye has managed to advance his career to superstar status by promoting his weaknesses.
A quick career summary: Kanye entered the decade as perhaps the most sought after producer, providing beats for many of the decade’s best albums. Realizing his popularity within the hip-hop community, Kanye opted to move from the soundboard to the mic, despite only marginal skill as a rapper. For his first release, Kanye released “Through The Wire” shortly after a near-fatal car accident and during a time when his mouth was wired shut. Following his beloved debut, The College Dropout (an album mostly lauded for its production and Kanye’s down to earth image) Kanye decided to give up the production reins. The subsequent album, 2005’s Late Registration was regarded as Kanye’s masterpiece, despite the fact that nobody was praising his mic skills. A few years later, after more hits and a series of less than charming moments, Kanye decided to give up rapping altogether and embrace his singing voice (not good) with a lot of help from the ultra-trendy auto-tune (even worse).
Somehow, in spite of the general awfulness of the auto-tune and Kanye’s lyrics (“Why you gotta be so Dr. Evil?”), 808s And Heartbreak is not only my personal favorite Kanye album, but quite possibly the most influential. Sure, the whole thing is a whiny and petulant breakup album, but after all these years of watching Kanye in the spotlight, what could be a better representation of the man? This is the soundtrack to an ill-advised all-caps blog post, and that’s precisely why it works. We’ve all been there. We’ve all been this immature when we should have known better. Even though it was only released in 2008, we’re already seeing 808s and Heartbreak’s influence on the hip-hop community with artists like Kid Cudi and Drake. But whether or not these emo-tinged auto-tuners pan out is hardly the point. For all its faults and missteps, 808s and Heartbreak never stops being less than fascinating and totally ingratiating. And it also boasts one all-out banger after another. This is hip-hop’s Pinkerton.
“Heartless”
97. Hanggai Introducing Hanggai (2008)
At the forefront of China’s Mongolian folk revival (which, for full disclosure, I know nothing about), is Hanggai, a band comprised of former Chinese punks who sing traditional Chinese folk songs using hoomei or throat-singing, a method of singing one note and the same note an octave lower simultaneously. The result is really quite captivating and wonderful. While the language and style of music may be totally foreign to those of us in the western world, Introducing Hanggai is a winning, intimate album that immediately captivates the listener. By all standards, album opener “My Banjo And I” is a classic, with urgent, galloping interplay between fiddle and lute and a joyous closing chorus. When singer Ilchi first kicks in with his overtone singing, the sound is strange and jarring, but ultimately quite awesome (the intro to “Five Heroes” might be the best example of this sound, actually). While the tracks that comprise Introducing Hanggai are mostly traditional compositions, the arrangements are quite contemporary without ever being cloying. In addition to updating their homeland’s historic sound, Hanggai dabble in American instrumentation, touches of found sound and one giggly and loose drunken performance (for the appropriately titled “Drinking Song). Introducing Hanggai is a fantastic entry point to the music of a nation that is often overlooked for its musical contributions.
“My Banjo And I”
96. Boris Pink (2006)
Boris has always been a restless group. Never content with one style of music, the Japanese POWER trio has a musical resume that rivals that of Ween, but it rarely seems like these guys are joking around. Drone? Check. Stoner rock? Check. Technical crust punk? Sure, why not? On Pink, the band’s breakthrough of sorts, Boris try their hand at muscular shoegaze on the stunning “Farewell” before giving way to a blitzkrieg of biker punk anthems that would act as Cialis for Lemmy. It’s an about face certainly, but it never feels like a joke. This is simply what the band does. They conquer one genre and move on, leaving only the charred remains of the listener’s ears to simmer. A Godzilla reference would be in poor taste here, but it’s hard to deny that Boris can destroy entire cities if they want to. On Pink, Boris breathes fire.
“Farewell”
95. MIA Kala (2007)
I originally saw M.I.A. (aka Maya Arulpragasam) as a great concept, but not much of an artist: A globetrotting Sri Lankan embraces all forms of hip-hop and pop culture, creating music that fuses global and cultural sounds and ideas. Plus, she’s a girl! But while the bloggers and critics were all over M.I.A. I was turned off by the gaudiness of M.I.A’s 2005 debut Arular. She was everything a critic would want, but I wasn’t having any fun.
Why Kala is any different is still a mystery to me. It certainly helps that singles “$20,” “Boyz” and, of course, “Paper Planes” are just that freaking good, but the whole album seems like an incredible party; one where the likes of Timbaland and a bunch of rapping children can stand shoulder to shoulder, where Pixies and Clash songs can be re-appropriated as gangsta themes. Kala remains a garish, almost ugly album throughout (the cover art is a hint as to what’s in store), but it’s an inclusive celebration, where all sides of the pop spectrum can find something to chew on.
“Boyz”
94. Propagandhi Supporting Caste (2009)
Not content with relegating themselves to the “I can’t believe I used to listen to that shit” file that many of their Fat Wreck Chords contemporaries found themselves in at the dawn of the century, Propagandhi decided to embrace thrash and simply get really, really fucking good. It all started with 2001’s masterful Today’s Empires, Tomorrow’s Ashes, but the punk/thrash/metal fusion didn’t reach its apex until last year when Supporting Caste quietly destroyed every punk album that came before it…and I’m talking every one of them. More punk than punk, more metal than metal, more thrash than thrash, Supporting Caste is a hard rock album so potent, so volatile, that of course it didn’t cross over. Obviously the best punk was never meant to and this Winnipeg quartet is real punk. Hell, they’re the only real punk, even if they play their hockey stick guitars nipple high (they play them that high because they have to, Propagandhi’s fretwork is too fast and complex for the image conscious). Whether they’re tackling the topic of immigrant workers (“Night Letters”), their almost militant veganism (“Human(e) Meat (The Flensing of Sandor Katz)”), the universal experience of re-living your past through music (“The Banger’s Lament”) or the loudmouthed jingoism of Don Cherry (the heart-stopping “Dear Coach’s Corner”), Propagandhi do so with intelligence, passion and ferocious intensity. Punk hasn’t been this exciting in years and it may never be this exciting again…until the next Propagandhi record.
“Night Letters”
93. Marnie Stern This Is It And I Am It And You Are It And So Is That And He Is It And She Is It And It Is It And That Is That (2008)
This Is It… has the potential to be a novelty album, much like any other “ladies of rock” type record. Stern has a voice that practically defines “shrill” and her impressive guitar work is almost all hammer-ons and finger-taps, but this frantic mess of an album has a certain life-affirming charm. Every tumbling drum fill (courtesy Hella’s Zach Hill), every winding guitar track and every yelped lyric coalesce into a scattered noise record with a heart of gold and fingers of kryptonite. Guitar heads will fall in love with Stern for her blazing virtuosity, while the rest of the world will connect the giddy enthusiasm and sincerity that went into this album. This Is It… is novel, but it’s too much fun to return to again and again to be a mere novelty.
“Transformer”
92. Cursive Cursive’s Domestica (2000)
My skinny 17-year-old self would kick my chubby 27-year-old ass for not including this album. And I’d be right to do it, too. Cursive’s Domestica still remains the Omaha, Nebraska band’s most potent work, despite their highly regarded subsequent output. A sort of musical extrapolation of Fugazi’s “Break”, Domestica is a concept album that comments on singer Tim Kasher’s divorce and the nature of dissolving relationships in general. It’s undeniably emo stuff (that awful title and album cover should have been your first indication), but it’s the best kind of emo possible, with the jagged guitar edges of the mid-90s DC scene paired with Kasher’s larynx-shredding scream (used sparingly, but always fittingly). Most importantly every song is an anthem, capable of moving an audience of one or thousands to scream along. After Domestica, Cursive would try some less punk instruments (Cellos! Horns!) and crawl even further into their own ass with more meta-concept albums, but this one still remains the high water mark for the band themselves, the Saddle Creek label and 21st Century emo.
“The Radiator Hums”
91. Band Of Horses Cease To Begin (2007)
Seattle’s Band Of Horses could be dismissed as whitebred indie by the books and by the time the band released this quickie follow-up to 2006’s swelling Everything All The Time, many had done just that, noting that there wasn’t a whole lot of ingenuity to the band’s sound. But so what? Ingenuity isn’t so impressive, not when you make an album as keyed in and welcoming as Cease To Begin. Sure, it’s easy to see how Band Of Horses fit into the indie rock spectrum – The Shins and My Morning jacket are two obvious reference points – but nothing on Cease To Begin comes off as anything less than totally real and considered. Listen as the album shifts from jangly anthem “Is There A Ghost?” to the lilting and cavernous “Detlef Schrempf” to the country stomp of “The General Specific” to the swirling grandeur of “Islands On The Coast.” The dynamics are strong and the album’s direction is faultless. There’s really not a bum track on the whole thing. Cease To Begin may be a bit overlooked, especially due to the general easy listening nature of Band Of Horses, but it will hold up as a terrific snapshot of mid-to-late 2000s Pacific Northwest indie rock.
“Detlef Schrempf”