Listomania: Favorite Songs of the 00's (80-71)

80. "Stillness is the Move" by Dirty Projectors (Bitte Orca, 2009)

I don't know much about how music works. I really don’t. I attempted both piano and guitar lessons at one point but never really got the rhythm or the passion down and just kind of gave up after a few years (but I can still play one mean “Wonderwall,”—a song that has become quite the panty-dropper these days, it would seem). My inability to make my own music or understand how music is made hasn’t stopped me from being able to appreciating songs that sound (to my untrained ears) well-made.

What makes “Stillness” cool is that it's a collection of varying sounds and complex vocal harmonies that make my mind a-splode when I try to keep up. The voices overlap, go solo, do a bit of a pseudo-call and response. It's a song driven purely by vocals. I can see how Dirty Projectors could have royally screwed this song up, but boy, they nailed it. Everything works here, mainly because it’s anchored by Amber Coffman’s remarkable singing. Skip to the 4:05 mark and you’ll hear what I’m talking about.

79. "I Love You and Buddha Too" by Mason Jennings (In the Ever, 2008)

I think I might be in the small group of music list-makers who would include this song in a "Best of the Decade" list...but I just can't help myself. It's so darn catchy. Yeah, it's simple and repetitious and has a campfire sing-songy vibe about it. Who cares? It's just a fun little ditty that'll have you tapping your foot and nodding your head from start to finish.

78. “Someday” by the Strokes (Is This It, 2001)

It’s as much a rock song as it is a replica of those timeless pop hits from the days of yore: it’s upbeat, the opening riff is simple yet memorable, and Julian Casablancas’ vocals (what a name, by the way) possess a sort of slurred scruffiness that's somehow rather endearing. The Strokes don’t offer anything too innovative to the table in this song—instead, they merely focus on creating a memorable, straightforward melodious rock song.

77. “Twilight at Carbon Lake” by Deerhunter (Microcastle, 2008)

I’m not sure if the impact of Microcastle's closing track, "Twilight," can be truly appreciated without listening to the whole album first. What makes this song special is how it starts off as indicative of everything the album has displayed throughout its running time, what with the spacey vocals and a sort of back-and-forth sway. It’s a very chill album—almost. I’d argue that 90% of the album possesses a sort of restrained breeziness, which only serves to make the noisy moments on the album all the more memorable. And none are more memorable or more noisy than “Twilight at Carbon Lake.” The song starts off typically enough with a slow-paced lilt indicative of what we’ve heard from the album so far…and then halfway, everything changes. All the pent-up frustration is suddenly, toweringly released in a flurry of sonic guitar battering and cymbal-thrashing. An album that had been so chiefly to-and-fro/carefree suddenly erupts in a violent flare of noise…and I’m talking noise, people. Awesome, nasty, badass noise. This song is the musical equivalent of a star going supernova: everything's all peaceful and serene until the sucker goes nuclear and EVERYTHING EXPLODES and then poof, nothingness.

76. “Be” by Common (Be, 2005)

I’m just going to take Pitchfork’s description of the song, because I certainly couldn’t do it any better:

“The [song] introduces itself with a few somber, contemplative notes from an upright bass. Then the heavy strings awake from their slumber and start popping. A slurring analog keyboard line slides in. Juke joint piano begins to roll. "Yes," Common says with a resounding confidence… Be's intro is inviting, stern, buoyant, and level-headed all at once, establishing a theme of restrained optimism.”

75. “The Story of Yo La Tango” by Yo La Tengo (I'm Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass, 2006)

The more astute reader will notice the misspelling between the song title and the band’s name. This was, of course, quite intentional, playing off of the fact that throughout the band’s long career (going all the way back into the 80’s), nobody has been able to spell their name correctly. Name misspellings aside, this song is part epic and part twelve-minute jam session. It slowly, slowly builds behind the growling, impatient electric guitar strumming before finally reaching a climactic, breakneck pace and then spiraling out of control towards the song’s conclusion.

To be perfectly honest, this track is more of a personal choice than anything else. For me, it evokes the nostalgia of high school (if I were ever to make a photo montage of my high school days, I've always vowed that this would be the track to accompany it). It captures all those feelings I felt at graduation: the uncertainty of college and making that unclear transition to “adulthood,” or whatever that meant; the longing for the simplicity of my early years; the numerous, seemingly irreplaceable friends who would go on to lead different lives, far away, leaving high school but a faded, fond memory. For others, this might just be noise-rock…albeit very good noise rock.

74. “Mr. November” by the National (Alligator, 2005)

What has probably been the cornerstone of the National’s whole game through the years is Matt Berninger’s stoic baritone and his witty (although often obtuse) lyrics. “Mr. November” is no exception to this rule—Berninger drives the song with about as much force as the band's steady rhythm section, to the point that when he shouts “I won’t f*** us over, I’m Mr. November!” you’re right there shouting with him, holding your fist high in the air. Whether or not we understand these lyrics is a moot point. To me, their songs are more about capturing moods, which is something they do quite effectively here.

73. “Paper Planes” by M.I.A. (Kala, 2007)

My BFF Sam hates M.I.A. Well, maybe hate is too strong a word—I think “annoyed by the hype/accolades” might be more fitting. And it’s true, there has certainly been a huge freaking amount of buzz around M.I.A. ever since her second album came out and “Paper Planes” proved to be such a cross-genre Billboard hit. But, as Woody Allen once said, “The heart wants what the heart wants.” And despite the song being overplayed (and strangely used in Slumdog Millionaire), I can’t help but feel a wave of happiness every time I hear those little kids singing followed by that revolver firing in the chorus. It’s a feel-good song. Minus that whole bit about guns and selling fake IDs to refugees and the whatnot. But who listens to lyrics these days anyway?

72. “Playhouses” by TV on the Radio (Return to Cookie Mountain, 2006)

This is a really dense song. It’s brimming to the teeth with an array of sounds (including some frenetic drumming), effects, and distortion that oftentimes challenge and muddle the listener. There's so much going on that it's hard to take it all in at once. And yet that's a part of what makes "Playhouses" so enthralling. Once you've given the song a few listens you begin to appreciate all the little niches and nuances, no matter how dark they may be.

71. "Clark Gable" by the Postal Service (Give Up, 2003)

This song has all the marks of a cheesefest. Delicate, airy vocals. Hopeless romanticism. That synth drum noise found in Phil Collins songs from the 1980’s. Thumpin’ club beat. The list goes on.

And yet, despite these seeming “misgivings,” there is something totally relatable about this song. When Gibbard sings “I need you to pretend that we are in love again,” you believe him. Sure, the premise is nerdy and perhaps even verges on melodrama, but as soon as that hook and the resounding horns in the chorus come together, everything comes together in such a way that the song becomes endearing. Yeah, there are probably more well-written and impressive songs out there, but I’ll be damned if there are any more cheesily irresistible (in the good way).

Listomania: Favorite Songs of the 00's (90-81)

Welp, here's this week's edition of Listomania. Remember, click the song title and it'll take you to the track on the youtubes.

90. “As Serious as Your Life” by Four Tet (Rounds, 2003)

Four Tet makes for great studying music, mainly because his music is so minimalistic: you can hit play on iTunes while reading a book and not worry a bit about the music serving as anything less than great background music. I oftentimes will play online poker while listening to this guy because it keeps me focused and doesn’t distract me with vocals or flashy instrumentals. Not this song. It immediately announces its presence with a distinct, very un-Four Tet guitar riff followed by Kieran Hebden’s classic rhythm section. This song pulsates and clatters—it demands to be listened to, especially on an album where most of the other tracks are very solemn and quiet. To sum things up, it’s a freaking cool song that is chill to the max.

89. “Staring at the Sun” by TV on the Radio (Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes, 2004)

If I were to describe “Staring at the Sun” in one word, that word might be “driving.” Or “boomboomboom.” The beauty of this song is how the static guitar snarls over Tunde Adebimpe’s simple and oft-repeated lyrics, which only add to the imagery of being overswept (by the elements, a befuddled lover, whatever it is these homies are singing about) as the iteration of each lyric is amplified as the song progresses.

88. “My Lady Story” by Antony and the Johnsons (I Am a Bird Now, 2005)

Antony’s vocals are always the highlight of any song he might be singing on, whether it be with his main project The Johnsons or with electronic group Hercules & Love Affair. The man’s got a voice, and he certainly uses it to its full potential. Upon first-listen, I’d argue that most of us would probably think it was a large, soulful black man singing. Nope: it’s a gay little British man. Yet, despite the evident soul, there’s a sort of ghostly insecurity in his quivering voice, something that has come to serve as Antony’s calling card over the years.

87. “Dark Center of the Universe” by Modest Mouse (The Moon & Antarctica, 2000)

Gah, what an album. What a song. It starts off all kinds of things spacey, with a weightlesss lilt before the guitars come thrashing in alongside Isaac Brock’s lispy, tumultuous voice…and then, back to the airy and weightless. Back to normal. It’s a song with a split personality. But it works, and only in that weird way Modest Mouse alone could do it.

86. “Delicate” by Damien Rice (O, 2002)

I’ve grown out of Damien Rice it seems like. Just about every song of his has something to do with the topic of unrequited or embittered love—themes that the 16-year-old, emo version of me had a much easier time relating to. I almost didn’t include this track from my list…but then I remembered the first time I heard it. My girlfriend Mary sent me the song via snail mail while I was in Germany, suffering from a bit of homesickness. This was early on in our relationship and naturally I still considered myself a romantic, so as soon as Rice’s vulnerable Irish voice shouted to me “WHY’D YOU FILL MY SORROW?” my heart soared as they raced back to memories of Mary and home. Yeah, I know, barforama.

85. “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley (St. Elsewhere, 2006)

Oh, gosh. Who doesn’t remember this song? So much of this decade’s pop has been marred by truly God-awful tunes in the top ten. But what of “Crazy?” It had the kind of grooviness and soul that many of those top ten pop songs imitated but couldn’t quite authentically capture, which is probably why this song was such a cross-genre hit. It had a little something for everyone...although not quite enough for me to rank it higher.

84. “For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti” by Sufjan Stevens (Michigan, 2003)

I think it’s pretty safe to say that Sufjan Steven’s album does Michigan great justice. It offers a poignant view of his home state, one that is intimately of its beauty and enchantments yet frank and critical of its faults. Much of the album is pensive and melancholy, something that “Widows in Paradise” typifies: Sufjan’s delicate vocals, the downbeat chorus, the dour trumpets. It’s an immensely personal, fragile song. It was also the one that first put Sufjan on the map.

83. “Clocks” by Coldplay (A Rush of Blood to the Head, 2002)

Another one of those songs that probably everybody from my generation has heard at one point or another. To me it’s an almost strange song for a hit, because it’s anthemic but possesses a sort of drowsiness in the repeating piano riff and Chris Martin’s sleepy delivery. But it’s that freaking piano riff, man. Drowsy or not, it’s one monstrous, expansive hook that demands the listener’s attention from start to finish—and eight years after its inception, I’m still listening.

82. “Twilight” by Elliott Smith (From a Basement on the Hill, 2004)

This song should be higher, but I had a hard time justifying placing it above many of the other tracks on this list, especially considering that this was an unfinished song released posthumously. Despite this being an unfinished product, the song has a grasping resonance. The strumming is slow and simple, with the sole focus being on Smith’s spiderweb-thin, anguished vocals. The instrumental in the middle of the piece is the icing on the cake.

81. “The Rat” by the Walkmen (Bows + Arrows, 2004)

Unhinged, relentless fuming. That’s what this song is. I can think of few songs from this decade that more effectively capture the outrage of love gone bad than the spitted, venomous vocals in “The Rat.” Of course, the song’s vocal acidity would be nothing without the flat-out frenzied cymbal crushing and frittering bassline in what amounts to what might be one of the best "Eff U!" songs ever written.