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).
