The Aughts: Top 100

Finally, the top twenty albums that have graced us in the past decade. Thank you for reading and staying with this site. Feel free to drop me a line, and stay involved with music!

20. LCD Soundsystem, Sound of Silver [DFA; 2007]		James Murphy spent the decade coming off like the biggest asshole in music, a know-it-all, holier-than-thou type of collector with impeccable taste and the talent to rub it in your face. His dance tracks with DFA had a sort of coked-out ecstatic feel to them: he definitely put the coke directly in the grooves here. You can try to turn away and scoff, but in the end Murphy succeeds because of his sincerity: whatever his mode of communication, he means it. His weariness with his hometown is perfectly captured in the title of "New York, I Love You..." alone; the ambigious story of "Someone Great" gets unbearably sadder as the intensity mounts; "North American Scum" is the funniest indictment of blind patriotism in an era where such a thing was no joke; and even tongue-in-cheek toss-offs like "Watch The Tapes" and "Time To Get Away" get into your skull through sheer funky brutality. However, it is the utter greatness of "All My Friends" that will forever elevate this album with it. Sound of Silver has magic dust all over it.
19. Erykah Badu, New Amerykah Part One (4th World War) [Universal; 2008]		On the surface, it is easy to admire Erykah Badu's fierce condemnation of societal ills in the waning days of the Bush Empire, both the lyrical content and the stunning music. But it is the subtext, of hip hop, and the history of racial ills, and what it means to be black (and marginalized) in America, that makes this such an important album. Of course, it also means that I, as a suburban white male, am completely unable to thoroughly get this album; I could certainly never relate to the issues discussed. Despite its forbidding nature however, you are only unwelcome if you don't want in: I feel no divide when listening to it, and it is a hip-hop album thoroughly and proudly rooted in a background very unlike my own experiences. Melodies and smooth productions are key: the content may be abrasive and metaphysical, but at least the music will always be easy to listen to. It is hip-hop; it is bigger than hip-hop.
18. Queens Of The Stone Age, Songs For The Deaf [Interscope; 2002]		It is a truth too often overlooked in modern rock lore: Dave Grohl belongs behind a drum kit, thank you very much. The Queens had made a great guitar album with R a couple of years prior, but the addition of Grohl to the kit made for one of the most kick-ass heavy-rock freak-outs of the decade, all delicious riffs and pounding drum attacks. A loose concept album, all the songs are played on various radio stations on a ride through the California desert. As with the best road trip albums, this deserves to be heard full blast.
17. Fever Ray, Fever Ray [Mute; 2009]		For those who thought Silent Shout was slightly too normal; for anyone who claims Bjork has gone soft since Homogenic; for you people who want dark, strange, transformative powers from your music, Fever Ray indulges your needs. You could pejoratively label her Bjork's freakish little sister, who used to pull the wings off flies while watching big sis work and decided to worship evil spirits instead of whimsical sprites. There is a linear connection to her work with the Knife - the vocal manipulation, the off-kilter arrangements - but this album is a different beast. Tension is greatly utilized: album closer "Coconut" builds for four minutes before the vocals reveal the glorious melody, almost like the sun through a cloud. But throughout, sub-zero chill abounds: the analogue equipment sounds warm, but the spirit is dark ice; you could dance to it, but people would respond with horrored stares. Bewitching and ritualistic.
16. Boards Of Canada, Geogaddi [Warp; 2002]		Yet another album that is so difficult to write about, yet I could never leave off this decade list. At the risk of hyping BoC as a cult of Satan-worshipping conspiracy theorists obsessed with astrology and the number 23, Geogaddi is the stuff of unsettling paranoia, the hazy childhood memories of their classic debut frayed at the edges and waterstained, unable to discern whether the memory is sweet or horrifying. The blood-drenched hexagonal cover art sets the tone; 23 tracks with a runtime of 66:06 (including a track of utter silence oooh!); countless backward samples and hidden messages. But that sells the album short: for all its creepiness, it is still Boards, and the creepiness is not out to harm, but rather disorient and make you question things, like "what is Lt. Frank Drebin doing explaining underwater lava to me?" "Who were the Branch Davidians?" "How do I get to the teddy bears' picnic?" There are moments of levity in the murk; unsettling, but wordlessly gorgeous.
15. The Knife, Silent Shout [Mute; 2006]		The easiest approximation of the Knife's sound is Dare! gone through psychological augmentation. A little sleep deprivation, mild torture - the shiny melodies have been warped, the instrumentation is just left of normal. And that was before Silent Shout. After this, all bets were off. This was European synthpop shot through with tar, a work of art so sharp it could draw blood. Songs that could have been straightforward dance tracks became something menacing and cold, a creature whispering under your bed. Granted, you could still find the melodies and sweet spots (instrumental "Na Na Na" is even pretty), but it became a bit more daunting to do so.
14. Radiohead, In Rainbows [ATO; 2007]		It has been long enough for me to declare: this is Radiohead's best album. Yes, it surpasses the Jeff Buckley-isms of The Bends. The Orwellian post-rock of OK Computer is post-this. There may be more social relevance to Kid A, but this beats it musically. No doubt that Kid A set the precedent for this album's superb marketing (aka. the album's out next week, and you can pay whatever to download it - democracy at its finest, and you probably paid 4 cents for it!), but Radiohead has hardly been better on record, hardly been so focused, musically rewarding, or even as sexy (yes, I've heard it said). The apparently fraught recording process made the band sound spontaneous and relaxed, and the glories of the album sound effortless. I'll probably take a bullet, but this is Radiohead at their finest.
13. Junior Boys, So This Is Goodbye [Domino; 2006]		Acclaimed debut out of the way, Junior Boys set out to earn a place in your heart. They did not disappoint. For me, Last Exit had a couple of better tracks, but STIG works much better as a full-length. The programmed drums, which ran the risk of Timbaland-mimicry on the debut, have been replaced with soft pulses; what remains is another set of effortless blue-eyed soulful sheen, the sound of Junior Boys becoming career dance-pop artists with an ear for melancholy melodies. This is a late-night album, flickering neon lights and soft snow falling, a smoky lounge full of stuffed ashtrays and ties undone, a lovelorn singer alone on stage crooning heartbreak.
12. Bjork, Vespertine [Elektra; 2001]		After two decades of stunning reinventions and a 90's run of flawless solo albums, it is hard to say whether or not Bjork's Aughties output can stand up her first three albums. We can remove the mis-step of Volta and consider Medulla and this one, one of the most gorgeous albums ever. After a decade of her forceful personality, fearless musical adventurism, and public fistfights, Vespertine was initially a letdown, a mellow and laidback collection of whispers and coos. Nine years later, it stands as perfect pillow-pop, lush instrumentation full of music boxes, footsteps-in-snow beats, and Bjork's incredible vocal stylings conveying longing and lust in equal measure. If not the most challenging album of her career, it is certainly the most beautiful.
11. M.I.A., Arular [XL; 2005]		All that mattered to me when this album was released was that I had it on CD, and I could listen to it endlessly driving to and from university. I still view Arular as an album of thirds, three sections of three songs, divided by three skits (plus a bonus track), which share the common property of banging beats and M.I.A.'s confrontational voice. Forget about the blog hype that made M.I.A. perhaps the first blog star; third-world subtext is okay to discuss; but it is really all about the beats and the vocals, how a rebel terrorist's daughter could infiltrate the west and blaze a trail of internationalist pop without compromising much of the subtext. I was listening to it for probably the fifty-fourth time to prep this list, in the middle of the transition from "Amazon" to "Bingo", with "Bucky Done Gun" behind and "Sunshowers and "Galang" still to come, when I came to realize: I couldn't live without this album.
10. Ghostface Killah, Supreme Clientele [Epic/Razor Sharp Records; 2000]		There is a major reason why Ghost had the first verse on Wu-Tang's debut: when he is on, he kills. There is a major reason why Supreme Clientele is so highly acclaimed: he is on, and he slaughters. Simply put, this is the most devastating performance by a single MC across an album since at least Illmatic. This is a collaborative album, featuring at least half of the Wu (at the time at their nadir) on a few tracks, but in the end, it is Ghost's show: one mic, a dizzying avalanche of twisted wordplay and bizarre cadence, an entire history of Wu-language and codes, a Rosetta Stone of 00's hip-hop that nobody else could comprehend. Ignore Ghost's auto-pilot second half of the decade, the lazy coke and cum verses he would churn out in increasingly lesser albums, ignore the critical acclaim for anything past 2004: one thing Ghost has always been consistent with is his inconsistency. Ironman is the least of the First Gen Wu albums, a tug-o-war between Ghost's hood raps and narrow attempts to make him a soul man; Bulletproof Wallets is highly forgettable; anything past the vastly overrated Fishscale you can chuck out. If you want to hear one hour of pure uncut Ghostface at his absolute peak, at his most Killah-est, cop this: the definition of hip-hop, untouchable and perfect.
9. El-P, Fantastic Damage [Def Jux; 2002]		1997's Funcrusher Plus is a masterpiece of hip-hop dissonance, full of strange sounds and hyper-literate flows, a lost masterpiece rescued last year. After producer El-P started the Def Jux label and knocked Cannibal Ox’s debut out of the park, hip-hop heads were eagerly awaiting his solo debut with ridiculously high hopes. The only surprise is how clearly he beat every one of them. This is underground hip-hop of the highest order, a Rorschach test of abstraction and confrontation, every beat set to maim, every lyric a head-scratching barb – it made Funcrusher Plus sound positively tame and Top 40. El takes his inspirations from the crumbling social order after the events of the previous year, and crafts a nightmarish dystopia that was the real world around us – confusion, chaos and tyranny. Regardless of its social implications, it is an album that you could blast in your car – especially if you were seeking to incite riots.
8. Primal Scream, XTRMNTR [Creation; 2000]		Recorded and released as it was during a time of relative peace in the world, with its shockingly aggressive dynamics and politically confrontational lyrics, Primal Scream's second definitive album in nine years (and the complete inverse of Screamadelica) sounded like pissed-off garage rock on steroids, a little more than out of step with the shiny pop and peaceful vibes of the time. Ten years of war, terror tactics, multinational corporations' greed and economic ruin later, it was uncomfortably close to reality: you can hear 9/11, Iraq, Abu Ghraib, Gitmo, and thousands of atrocities in its grooves, and it still sounds caustic. Call them visionaries if you will, but it is the music that keeps this album's spirit and legacy alive: a ten-story blaze of electronica, post-rock, krautrock, free jazz and shoegaze, fed through broken glass and oil, played with the conviction that the end is nigh.
7. D'Angelo, Voodoo [EMI; 2000]		As the years pass and the memories of D'Angelo fade while his weight and rap sheet grows, the vibe of Voodoo becomes more mystical and magical. The man has a mysterious smirk on the cover - he knew he created a masterpiece. Here is an R&B album that eschews any attempt to fit in with any part of the past decade: a hazy, 79-minute jam session fueled by narcotics and top-notch musicianship, where the odd melodies poke their head out of the relentless groove and dive right back in. An album that strives to meet the standards of Sly and Stevie, of Jimi and Marvin - and exceeds them all. An album that is so intent on capturing the heart and soul of what it is to be alive and human that it carries on long after it has attained it. An album so utterly entrancing, so timeless and wonderfully perfect, that it is simply voodoo.
6. Burial, Untrue [Hyperdub; 2007]		Genre pillar, or heralded one-note wonder? Is Untrue destined to become this decade's Maxinquaye or Endtroducing....., the one great album of an electronic subgenre? Or is dubstep a genre that is meant for long-term success and future masterpieces like this? It is too early to tell, but Burial's sophomore album is destined to be remembered in whatever light. This is a late night subway ride through a bombed-out metropolis, shadows and ghosts swirling around your fuzzy vision, cries in the night, a stroll through a cemetary, lighter clicks and tinkling glass and that crushing bass. The vocal sources no doubt have their basis in pop songs, but would you know which ones? Would you want to know? I certainly don't. This is an album that will haunt your dreams.
5. Cannibal Ox, The Cold Vein [Def Jux; 2001]		To date, this stands are the best rap debut since the Wu-Tang, a crystalline fusion of stunning production (courtesy of Def Jux honcho El-P) and incredible rapping from Vordul Mega and Vast Aire. I highly recommended this album in years after its release (it topped my Half Decade list in 2005), and still do. There has not been a follow-up, and it doesn’t appear there ever will be. Yet Can Ox’s truancy since Cold Vein’s release has only served to highlight its majestic power: it is like a faded photo of someone long past, a fragile caption of a time gone by, yet it has never sounded better. The synth rushes of “Iron Galaxy” are still dizzying, “A B-Boy’s Alpha” remains angelic and evocative, “The F-Word” is still shockingly naked after the abrasive “Vein”, “Real Earth”’s laser battle in space is amazing, and for my money, the final two tracks remain the greatest denouement of an album this decade has given us, as if the darkness and hopelessness of life will disappear if we could just scream phoenix.
4. TV On The Radio, Return To Cookie Mountain [Interscope; 2006]		The difficult sophomore album, in many ways. After so many wild ideas were tried out on their debut, the band attempted to reign them into a cohesive whole, and at first it seemed unbearably forced: just the opener features two drumbeats on top of one another, a distant sitar, a squall of a guitar, and those funereal horns, all supporting Tunde Adebimpe’s post-9/11 elegies. Throughout, you were haunted by howls of rage, frustration, ecstasy, wolves, a post-rock apocalypse. By the end, you could not have been farther from the beginning, so you started again. It is eternal testament to TVOTR’s mad genius that these post-rock elements start to bloom and reveal themselves upon each listen, that what sounded like an impenetrable mess becomes one of the vital documents of our time: urgent, uncompromising, and utterly unique, the true sign of what this band was capable of.
3. Radiohead, Kid A [Capitol; 2000]		At this point, another decade list headed by Kid A is a crock – but then how valid is one without it at the top? After all, this is the be-all, end-all that truly started the 00’s ten months in: arguably the most important band of the late 90’s abandon their guitar-driven style and embrace the future through electronic music’s past, taking a scalpel to the point in time. If the band was fighting off technology in OK Computer, they are the robots here: this is the Orwellian-foreshadow of the decade’s increasing reliance on technology to interact and connect. Or forget the social relevance and focus on the music itself: lush western chords; acoustic guitars; tinkling music boxes; endless textures; and Thom Yorke’s frail vocals. This is a pop album dressed as leftfield electronics, a band clearly thinking outside the box and grinning at what they could get away with, a chart-topper. Listening to a sneak preview in a movie theater at midnight was one of the formative musical experiences of my life, a profound sense of “what the hell just happened” that was too frequent in years to come. If anything, this album needs to be lauded for opening the doors, whether or not the people who walked in were worthwhile.
2. The Avalanches, Since I Left You [XL; 2000]		With a lump in my throat, I bring this list to a final close by attempting to explicate the unexplicatable. Even with a full decade of hindsight, how do you convey an album's importance to a reader? The Avalanches are a particularily tough coconut. As can be expected from an album constructed of some 3,500 samples, there a lot of moments to cherish. Can you think of anything else that talks, other than a person? Maybe this record. It is next to impossible to put the Avalanches into some kind of linear musical context: they appeared from Australia with no precedent, dropped this meta-plunderphonic gnarl of a disco-funk-summer-jam-lounge-lizard-electro-soundtrack-dance orgasm on us, then high-tailed it - back to Australia? Who can say, but in the ten years since we've had this album, there has been no further word, and we are left to wonder what the previous two thousand years were like without Since I Left You. Can't you hear it? Joyless. It is so steeped in the previous fifty years of pop culture that in its generous scope and fearless vision, its willingness to try anything at once, that it has transcended its trappings to become its own creation, a reverse blueprint for everything to come, the Seed of the Aughts. You could listen to this album and forsee in one hour the entire upcoming decade, its various musical twists and turns and genre destructions; it is a baffling thing to explain its relevance and importance. In 2001, when I named it my number 1 album, I suggested it would be remembered in five years for its "staggering proportions": I was rarely so wrong. More importantly it seems to me, in a decade of so many wrongs and dark passages, it was important to have even an hour of sunshine, a musical journey that never ceased to amaze you, even if you couldn't reach out and touch it, even if the creators never spoke again. Every decade should be so lucky to have a Since I Left You.
1. TV On The Radio, Dear Science, [Interscope; 2008]		This pick surprised even me. During the process of rotating several albums in and out of the top spot, it dawned on me that it is a vain and utterly hopeless thing to choose an album to summarize and lead an entire decade, especially one so disparate and varied as the 00’s. Any album from the top ten of this list, and some from much further down, would be worthy to top this humble list. TV On The Radio, however, has been so right from the very beginning (inauspicious #29 debut album on my half-decade list), dropping as if from the heavens with their perfect Young Liars EP, and an unparalleled string of challenging, rewarding albums in an age where such a thing was very much not in vogue. In between flashes in the pan, brilliance gone awry, and instantaneous backlashes, there could not have been a better and sturdier collection of artists to be the vanguards of this turbulent decade. For their third masterpiece in a row, the Brooklyn art rockers sanded the rough edges and brightened the palette, creating something airier than the beloved Cookie Mountain. They have always been one of the most eloquent musicians to capture the malaise of the Aughts; the wars, the paranoia, the insecurities within and without, mental and physical. Cookie Mountain was an album steeped in that paranoia, in its sturm-and-drang post-rock haze; Science maintains the feel of our broken era, but the struggle here is the search for love and hope, an optimistic view that should be our own as we begin a new era - as TVOTR perhaps imply, a "golden age". It is the album that should be leading us forward, a collection where each song is a killer, a full-fledged statement, the blinding high point of a band I once brazenly claimed had potential to be the “best band of their era, period.” I have rarely been proven so right.

And just like that, an entire decade's worth of music and history is neatly encapsulated into a tidy one hundred entries in the music canon. This may be the last list I ever do; maybe I'm just warming up. Either way, it has been a pleasure to listen and write, and I hope that music continues to inspire us all. Thank you for reading and as always, send me your thoughts!