ATG Presents: Albums of the Aughts - The Decade in Sonic Erotica [20-1]

"Farewell"

Buy it.


19. Usher - Confessions


The best pop music transports you. It functions like a time machine so that whenever you hear a song, or even a sound from a song, you remember what it felt like and where you were and how things smelled when it was fresh and you were younger. Confessions had that kind of resonance. It's one of the greatest achievements of modern r&b and probably represents the last time that genre could be considered pop without the aid of autotune or dance breaks. Confessions was huge. If you were in high school like I was, this was date music, prom music, teen club music - the whole soundtrack to an era of hitting on as many girls as you could fit in your new color-screen cell phone, embellishing successes and concealing failures as much as possible.

18. Common - Be


Very few hip-hoppers can cite such clear career highs and lows. We think Common is back for good, ("I used to love H.E.R.," 2000's remarkable Like Water for Chocolate, the Gap commercial from winter '06) his wandering eye for fashion traps him with suspect choices (the petty beef with Ice Cube, rapping about Jennifer Anniston and Vince Vaughn's romance, "Smokin' Aces").
Perhaps his greatest misstep was 2002's Electric Circus, a Roots-backed, ambitious, messy, I-listened-to-Hendrix-and-want-to-bite-ideas rough patch of stoned dreams. Though this grandiose divider has its apologists, Circus marked an irreconcilable breakup between Chicago's Common and the streets. Dude was on some argyle sweater, crochet hat, new agey bullcorn.
Years later and with an edge, perspective, and Kanye West filtering the bad ideas, Common unloaded his masterpiece.
"The present is a gift and I just want to be," Com professed over the luxurious, creeping title track, "waiting for the Lord to rise I look into my daughter's eyes and realize that I'm gonna learn through her."
He's done trying to change the genre's course and lobbying to emerge as its moral compass. He'd of course go on to talk about the pitfalls of rap with Oprah; again, highs and lows. But on Be, Common was content sticking to personal narratives of the doomed street disciples he grew up with; eager to oblige the romantic kicks that propelled singles like "Faithful" through pretty prose like "baby you a blessin' and my best friend."
Perhaps the best audible in hip-hop history, Kanye and Common ditched the studio version of "The Food" and opted for a more vibrant, distorted live version performed on "Chappelle's Show." On "Go," John Mayer and Kanye croon background vocals and it's only an interesting factoid because Com's sincerity bleeds through and steals the show.
Minimalist beyond the orchestrated, swelling, bookends, Be is perfect at 11 songs and absolutely stacked with nine Kanye production credits and two J Dilla beats nestled on top.

- Ramon Ramirez

"Faithful"

Buy it.

17. Clipse - Hell Hath No Fury


Swagger is king. "Sucka MCs," Eazy-E's entire career, even the cartoonish gangsta of Pen and Pixel, usually the best move for success is to go out all guns blazing and not look back. Clipse demonstrated this with their instant cult classic. The entire album revolves around natural born hustlin' with no questions asked. They sell cocaine.

16. Little Brother - Getback

15. TV On the Radio - Dear Science


The greatest shows of my life: Public Enemy (2007 & 2008); David Yow of Jesus Lizard stripped to his briefs, diving into the crowd; Mike Watt singing "Sister Ray"; Rage Against the Machine (1996 & 2007); Willie Nelson for hours; Radiohead opening for R.E.M. on the Monster tour; a reunited Sunny Day Real Estate blowing my mind; heat stroke and Dinosaur Jr.; Titus Andronicus leaping over each other at Mohawk in Austin; my band opening for the Midgetmen, every time.

14. Spoon - Gimme Fiction


A just reputation precedes Spoon: Texans that drop album after album of flawless pop. No other aughts act created such a prolific yet well-received catalog. In fact, calculation-obsessed website Metacritic recently named these guys artist of the decade based on data collected from critical reviews of Spoon albums. You have an immaculate record. Some guys don't trust an immaculate record. I do. I have an immaculate record.

13. Jay-Z - The Blueprint


By 2001, Jay-Z was one of the best rappers, a genre maintsay, headlining enormous tours, lacking a classic work. At the time his firestorming debut, 1996's Reasonable Doubt, was regarded as a commercial failure and little else. Like the world, Jay's career changed on September 11 when his legendary Blueprint dropped the same day as the Twin Towers. Not even terrorists could stop Jigga.

12. Sleater-Kinney - The Woods



The Woods should come with liner notes that outline all the things you should ignore about the album, at least on first listen. The switch from long-time cult favorite label Kill Rock Stars to the legendary Sub Pop? Don't think about it. The lyrics, addressing post 9/11-ennui, consumerism, reality TV, and personal relationships? They're not important, really. The album's place in the greater canon of releases from the beloved Portland punk rock trio? Who cares about such things?

Oh, and the fact that all three of the band's members are women? Spend one moment meditating on that one and you've earned a punch in the face.
No, the most important thing -- the only thing -- to remember about The Woods is that just plain rocks. Hard. After six dependably excellent releases Sleater-Kinney managed one hell of a hat trick with Woods, a Led Zeppelin-inspired excursion into hard rock town that just may be the decade's best straight-up rock record. From the memorable guitar intro on "What's Mine Is Yours" to the propulsive explosion of "Entertain" to the nine-minute guitar solo on "Let's Call It Love" -- which would be self-indulgent if it weren't so damn righteous -- everything plays second fiddle to the album's chief goal: rocking you to the very fiber of your being. Sure, Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein's vocal interplay is sharper than ever before, and Janet Weiss remains a powerhouse drummer, and the lyrics are smart and considered and the instrumentation virtuosic. But really, what truly elevates The Woods is that it pounds and shakes with the kind of unapologetic force they'd call the "power cosmic" in old issues of Fantastic Four.

- Patrick Caldwell


11. Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot


The Sgt. Pepper's of roots music, a spectacularly produced and orchestrated statement by a band pushing their sound into previously unexplored directions. Rather than signaling the beginning of a new era, Wilco made a triumphant final realization of "American" music, looking backwards and forwards simultaneously as the country itself was soon forced to. Foxtrot was recorded before the September 11th attacks but wasn't released until the spring of 2002. By then the feelings their LP expressed as the fears of individual possibilities had become national realities; it's hard to imagine a more aptly titled song in the aftermath of that disaster than "Ashes of American Flags," no grand statement but a slice of ordinary life failing to meet expectations. Thematically, it's the scrambling of beliefs and hopes as heard by a young American man turning old on a front porch he knows to be rotting beneath him.

10. Ghostface Killah - Supreme Clientele

9. Burial - Untrue


Burial is the archetypical enigma in literally every aspect of his music and persona. The most well-known and acclaimed musician of the dubstep scene, he is also the most unorthodox and distinctive. His production methods, as attested by himself and his few peers, are primitive, yet his albums consist of the most novel and unified electronic music. Undoubtedly relevant in sound and scope, yet he has made clear in a handful interviews that his major influences are U.K. scene garage and jungle tunes of over ten years ago. Untrue is distant, sparse, and melancholy, yet an underlying warmth and familiarity emerges. It achieves a seemingly impossible feat of juxtaposition. Tracks are built around ambiguous tones and distant melodies, yet contain a wealth of subtle details upon careful listen. Percussion is relentlessly consistent in tempo and timbre, but extremely meticulous; every track is a remarkably unique pattern, specifically lacking in drum machine precision. No other musician has made anything like it, and yet he insists inspiration comes from the club rhythms of 2-step garage.

8. Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca


For the record, we knew by spin three. The first spin, having heard Rise Above and The Getty Address, was a thrill. The second spin, with all the new knowledge and growing familiarity gained from the first, was a joy. The third was a revelation.
Bitte Orca, its title a dyad based on the German phrase for "please" and the proper name for the Killer Whale, is at its core an album about duality. It's what happens when you have no regard for the restrictive conventions of traditional pop, but a natural affinity for acoustic guitars and gorgeous vocal arrangements. It's the sound of a Yale music composition dropout and two break-out choir girls wedding seven albums-worth of experimental obscurities to a personal idolization of Beyonce. And for the rest of us, it's a "Eureka!" moment. It's an exclamation proclaiming the end of Pitchforkian celebrations of difficult music for difficulty's sake, and proving that eclectic, adventurous and even intellectually calculating music ought to reward us by sounding better and more satisfying than anything less.
From the classical beauty of "Two Doves" to the West African energies of "Remade Horizon," every moment of Bitte Orca meets and surpasses the promises made by indie-meets-r&b sensation, "Stillness is the Move." This album is nine pop songs immaculately and lovingly taught and sequenced without concern to borders or boundaries. It's profound and pleasing while managing to sound like no other music released this decade or any prior. It's a thrill, a joy, a revelation.

- Reggie Ugwu

"Two Doves"

Buy it.

7. Kanye West - The College Dropout

I like the baby, Christmas Jesus the best. I like Kanye West as the outsider. The literal collegiate dropout with a sharp tongue and a hunger for better rap. The smart-ass. He's young Elvis before the megalomania and jump suits and Vegas, raising eyebrows.

After Blueprint, Jay-Z knew he had to sign his ace producer, secure his rights, make sure the beats stayed in house. Kanye wanted to make an album. Eventually, the idea seemed justifiable if not logical: take the Chicago kids' top flight instrumentals, let him spit filler, surround him with in-house talent for street cred. It may tank like Memphis Bleek, but it'll keep the Roc-A-Fella workhorse working.

The resulting College Dropout charmed everyone with its spoken-word inspired raps, weirdly honest, totally thumping songs about children looking up to drug dealers, women with undeclared curriculums, summers working at the Gap, God, picking up girls via instant messenger, physical fitness, listing the best r&b with which to soothe and swoon lady friends, feeling bad about making "bullshit ice rap" with Ludacris but justifying decision by telling us the bling is from Ghana and Mali, eating at Cheesecake Factory and seeing your valedictorian as a waiter and realizing higher education wasn't worth the trouble, family reunions, surviving car accidents and not even being able to eat pancakes because your jaw is wired shut.
The College Dropout is righteously political, soulful and hopeful and spiritual.
Also its the definitive party record of a generation. I remember driving up the street to the Chinese restaurant in the gone, early morning party state of all privileged students when "Get 'Em High" came on the radio and every passenger knew every word. Four months after this album dropped it was everywhere.

Dropout is praised for its influential soul-sampling and generally brilliant production but goodness did Kanye bring the words. "I blow past low class niggas with no cash in a four dash six bitch you can go ask so when I hit the gas po-po just laugh..." "I got weed, drink and a Handicam, all of which is legal in Amsterdam, so say my name like Candyman and I'll come fix you up like the handyman."
Unlike Elvis, Kanye's "five beats a day for three summers" ethic never tired.

- Ramon Ramirez

"Spaceship"

Buy it.

6. Arcade Fire - Funeral


I don't think it's tactful or necessary to call out rivals, but for all the dispensed words and opinions that didn't allow for public dissent and career-ending reviews of young bands like Black Kids and dumbassification of peers and colleagues afraid to get behind a 4.8 record once the verbose, snarky satellite spoke, Pitchfork's influence has been a cultural negative. The beacon houses some of the most passionate writers, collectively turns everyone into a jerk. I mean how many times has this happened:


Skinny, ethnically ambiguous dude with iPhone: These guys are really good, got an 8.3, check them out.

***Proceeds to play obscure recording of people opening and closing doors in Japan.***


The doors line must be credited to Devens.

For the above reasons, Funeral took a minute to embrace. Friends have derided Arcade Fire's enormous waves of melodrama as "pointless crescendo," they're not. Films have poached these emotive chunks and made patrons watching trailers weep because "Wake Up" is romantic and hungry to irresistible extremes. Delusions of grandeur? Fitting but fully realized when Pitchfork used their glowing Funeral review to ponder humanity, crown a masterpiece, allow a unit from Montreal (for the record, leading man Win Butler is from The Woodlands, however more interesting Quebec sounds) to soar.

Three years later, they're the night act on the marquee date of big festivals and we're running into converted English teachers from high school. Funeral's crossover success is Pitchfork's journalistic gift to music. Spin on Kurt Cobain. Rolling Stone interviewing John Lennon.
An album written as family members passed, Funeral is all the perils and plight of growing up with songs penned in digestible, straight-forward fashion. There's strings and frenetic live spectacles, but mainly fear, anguish, romance, the fantasy of escaping, rebellion, household warmth, domestic honor, lots of longing. 

- Ramon Ramirez

"Wake Up"

5. At the Drive-In - Relationship of Command


Existing in a millennial vacuum when there was a distinct difference between "major label debut" and "underground" and online retail outlets like CDNow had a prominent voice, At the Drive-In culminated their brief existence with a forceful, kitchen sink rock classic. Defined by crazy energetic shows and crazy good post-hardcore albums like In/Casino/Out, the El Paso outcasts inked a deal with now defunct Grand Royal, moved to California, brought the house.
Two Hispanic stoners with afros woke up in buzz briefs next to Linkin Park, there's a song called "One-Armed Scissor" on modern rock radio, they're billed on a momentous tour with Rage Against the Machine and the Beastie Boys. Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez became the face of guitar bands, a bridge between tasteful mook rock like Chino Moreno's and artsy, wordy noise.

This is the fresh sound for the decade, thought everyone.
"One-Armed Scissor" borrows a Zeppelin breakdown (specifically "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You's") to symbolically carry the flag of smart, cryptic, metal-minded, blues-based rock. Iggy Pop, another respected poet and rock elder, spastically contributes to Command and becomes a fixed, vital presence like Peeves in Gryffindor Tower. He reads a ransom note at one point.

Bixler-Zavala's lyrics wind ("paramedics fell into the wound like a rehired scab at a barehanded plant/ an anesthetic penance beneath the hail of contraband," goes "Invalid Litter Dept."), the Latin influences (check the percussion on "Arcarsenal") add flavor, an alternative reality wherein The Strokes don't need to save rock becomes clear. Predictably, the chaos wasn't built to last and the band burned out and became two indulgent, uninteresting acts. But what a moment.

- Ramon Ramirez

"Arcarsenal"

3. Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP


Over the past decade, music has gotten in a fuss over former Disney stars gone wild, country chicks speaking up, catty indie rock dudes blog battling, a rapper bringing youth to brinks of destruction. We have a winner.

2. Radiohead - Kid A


If I were a musician, I imagine Radiohead would kind of piss me off.
Three albums into their career and following a post-OK Computer torrent of hype and adulation, Radiohead threw out the baby, the bathwater, the bassinet and quite possibly the entire nursery on Kid A. It melds Krautrock and jazz and classical music with cryptic, frequently violent lyrics -- "Cut the kids in half," warbles Thom Yorke enigmatically on the halting and creepy "Morning Bell," in a commandment that may or may not be metaphorical. It sounds nothing and everything like the Radiohead we all thought we knew so well in 2000. It sounds a bit like Aphex Twin in 1993 and a bit like Can with just a smidgen of "Remain In Light"-era Talking Heads.

It's a game changer, an electronica-influenced album that's dissonant and frequently unsettling -- as on the twisted jack-in-the-box intro to the title track, or the slow building dread of "Treefigners" -- and yet somehow manages to be the band's most emotional, deeply felt, deeply human album. Ten years later most of us are still trying to process it. It sounds like the decade that ultimately followed -- harshly apocalyptic with faint rays of hope peaking ever-so-rarely through the clouds. With Kid A, Radiohead pulled one heck of a hat trick, reinventing themselves from the ground up without ever betraying who they were. They'd follow it up with three more excellent full-lengths, never stagnating, never boring and remaining clever, progressive and powerful all the time.

In other words, Radiohead keeps on raising the bar for us. It kind of pisses me off.

- Patrick Caldwell

"Morning Bell"