Why put on airs? These lists, whittled down from hundreds of titles, are no attempt to essay the so-called State of Rock 2002 or some other such critical hooey (if you really want to see us put on our pseudo-intellectual pointy-headed caps, feel free to ask for our forthcoming “Pazz & Jop Poll” comments). It’s nothing more than a sampling—our personal DJ mix-cum-box sets.
State of Rock-wise, however, it must be said that we’re all bone-weary of mainstream radio’s version of things, but the bulk of college-radio’s indie staples are just as formulaic and lame.
Same goes for all the sad-sack populist hipsters who constantly weigh in on what’s wrong with the music biz—you know, the folks who counter the R.I.A.A.’s whining about piracy and CD burning with their own tiresome mantras about high CD prices and shitty tunes. Wake up, you putzes: for every overpriced $19.98 piece-of-crap CD released this year, there were probably 20 great discs—not all of them indies, either—that came in under the 12-buck mark. Sure, you may have to drag your lazy ass away from your Xbox long enough to do some online hunting. You might even have to put down that latte for a few minutes and—gasp!–drive across town to paw through a record store’s bins. Imagine that! Kids these days, they want everything handed to them. You remember that line from The Big Chill (yes, that is a frightening reference) about getting older and going out into the world? It applies to being a music lover, too: Nobody every said it was gonna be easy. But the good tunes are out there.
All of which makes us think back to an old episode of I.R.S.’ Cutting Edge, the groundbreaking MTV show from the ’80s, in which they were profiling R.E.M. At one point, Peter Buck is discussing some of the great underground music of the day, and he turns to look directly at the camera and says: “It’s your duty as Americans to go out and find this stuff.” Truer words were never spoken. Thanks, Pete.
BOB MEHR
1. PAUL WESTERBERG
Stereo/Mono
(Vagrant)
No real surprise here. The former Mats mainman puts his kid to bed, grabs a guitar, and heads to the basement, emerging with a pair of albums that perfectly reconcile the twin poles of his personality. From the sublime Stereo to the ridiculous—but always enjoyable—Mono, alt-rock’s apostle Paul sets about reminding all the Johnny Rzeznik-come-latelys and wannabe Westerbergs (Ryan Adams, Pete Yorn, etc.) out there that he doesn’t need replacing just yet.
2. CHUCK PROPHET
No Other Love
(New West)
With the release of 2000’s The Hurting Business, journeyman roots rocker Chuck Prophet reimagined himself as a postmodern-blue-eyed-soul-songsmith-cum-collagist—Tony Joe White meets Kool Keith, if you will. Crafting a sonic bridge between Stax/Volt and the Ultramagnetic MCs, Prophet’s new aesthetic found him engaged in adventurous exercises of cut and paste—like marrying the acoustic guitar hook from “Ode to Billie Joe” and the woozy melody of Nilsson’s “Coconut” to an mesmeric bed of beats—creating something wholly original in the process. That pattern continues on Prophet’s latest, No Other Love—a disc that challenges the senses with a rush of imagistic lyrics and an equally evocative swirl of sound that takes more than a single listen to discern, let alone digest. From jagged Elmore Leonard-inspired narratives to lush romantic stirrings to boogie-folk deconstructions, the album is a clamorous, joyous kitchen-sink record of the first order.
3. GUIDED BY VOICES
Universal Truths and Cycles
(Matador)
After a much-maligned stint in the major label fold, GBV returns to the welcoming arms of mid-’90s indie imprint Matador Records. Less a creative “comeback” than a calculated return to form, Universal Truths and Cycles reaps the sonic lessons of recent studio forays—hi-fi sound, finely honed arrangements, string section interludes. Yet GBV leader Bob Pollard seems intent on ripping from his back pages as well. Listen closely and you can hear echoes of past glories—snatches of everything from ’87’s embryonic Devil Between My Toes to ’95’s high-water mark Alien Lanes—crop up in fleeting moments all over UTAC. As such, the new album is a sagacious document that somehow manages to distill the whole of Pollard’s vast musical universe—yielding the expected melodic finery without sacrificing any of the beautifully besotted bluster that has made GBV such a compelling live outfit.
4. WILCO
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
(Nonesuch)
If the decade’s most analyzed LP had come out as originally scheduled in 2001, it would’ve undoubtedly laid claim to the title of Album of the Year. As it is, Wilco’s avant-pop opus drops a few spots on my list, chiefly because the record’s heavily labored mix—completed by sound supremo Jim O’Rourke—doesn’t hold up particularly well. (As a forthcoming Wilco EP—featuring alternate versions of several Yankee Hotel Foxtrot tracks—indicates, there are probably several equally good, if not better, versions of the record in the vaults.) In future years it’s likely most of us will be reaching for our copies of Summerteeth or Being There rather than YHF. Still, whatever form they appear in, it’s impossible to deny the majesty and eerie pre-9/11 prescience of standouts like “War on War” and “Ashes of American Flags.”
5. SPOON
Kill The Moonlight
(Merge)
Austin’s Spoon follow up the insouciant soul of 2001’s Girls Can Tell with a bristling, breezy song cycle—full of stripped-down subtlety, echoey figures and lots of empty space. Imagine Colin Newman and Randy Newman locked in a room together trying to write the most literate bubblegum album ever, and you pretty much capture the beguiling melodies, arch wordplay, and terse rhythms contained here. Bonus points to the band for slagging the White Stripes and propping Har Mar in album opener “Small Stakes.”
6. NEKO CASE
Blacklisted
(Bloodshot)
After the triumph of Furnace Room Lullaby and the—literally—homespun covers collection Canadian Amp, ex-Seattleite Case adjourned to the desert of Tucson, Ariz., borrowing the studio, services, and widescreen vision of the Calexico/Giant Sand contingent for her third solo disc. The result? An album that plays like the soundtrack to a group therapy session featuring Patsy Cline, Nick Cave, and David Lynch. From the gripping tumble of images that open the album to the ethereal concerns at its heart, through to the lonely radio static that closes the record, Blacklisted is a meticulous merger of mood and movement—a concept piece of sorts, unified by Case’s descent into the depths of her own scarred soul and psyche.
7. BRENDAN BENSON
Lapalco
(Startime International)
Six years after he delivered one of the ’90s’ famously overlooked power-pop platters, Detroit tunesmith Brendan Benson’s long-delayed sophomore effort proves the kind of disc that will forever occupy a physical and spiritual space between your Badfinger and Big Star discs. Myriad Me-Decade influences (Nilsson, Raspberries, Todd Rundgren) carry the album along, but Lapalco is neither a pale imitation nor the predictable paint-by-numbers rendering of so many pop revivalists; the album illustrates the crucial difference between regurgitating your influences and actually digesting them. Even when he brazenly lifts from others—the Cars keyboards of “You’re Quiet,” the Mamas and the Papas chorals of “Metarie”—Benson weaves those snatches of sound into his own scheme with such elegant aplomb you almost forget the source.
8. TOMMY KEENE
The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down
(spinART)
As always, the release of a Tommy Keene CD is a celebration of the pop song as carefully crafted and dutifully refined art form. This time out, however, Keene throws more than a few curveballs to his dedicated acolytes: the horn-fed swagger of “The Man Without a Soul”; the Springsteen sax solo on “The World Where I Still Live”; the 17-minute Who-style concept piece “The Final Hour.” But it’s with a seemingly simple-sounding nugget like “All Your Love Will Stay” that Keene proves his unfailing ability to turn three minutes of candy floss into nourishment for the soul.
9. JIM DICKINSON
Free Beer Tomorrow
(Artemis)
Winning the award for most belated follow-up of all time, legendary Memphian player and producer Jim Dickinson releases his second solo platter 30 years after his much revered but hard-to-find Dixie Fried (also given a much welcome domestic rerelease this year) first bowed. As on his debut, Dickinson applies his wildcat growl to a clutch of obscure tunes, in the process blurring the lines between blues, country, jazz, and rock ‘n’ roll. Free Beer once again confirms Dickinson’s status as the living, breathing embodiment of Cosmic American Music.
10. SLEATER-KINNEY
One Beat
(Kill Rock Stars)
A year after Time magazine crowned them “America’s Best Rock Band,” Sleater-Kinney live up to the often unrelenting hype with the sonically and politically charged One Beat. By turns a dissident manifesto, protest album, polemic, and sweet ’60s soul kiss, it’s a record finally worthy of the breathless praise heaped on them lo these many years.
KURT B. REIGHLEY
1. PLAYGROUP
Playgroup
(Astralwerks)
Think The Slits meet Massive Attack. U.K. hip-hop producer Trevor Jackson set out to make an album full of “nerdy guys and powerful women,” and did just that with this nonstop post-punky reggae party, featuring guests including indie pop legends Roddy Frame (Aztec Camera) and Edwyn Collins (the Orange Juice) in the former corner, and Kathleen Hanna (Le Tigre) in the latter.
2. NEKO CASE
Blacklisted
(Bloodshot)
Lord knows what she was going on about half the time, with all that talk about bees and velvet and “Deep Red Bells,” but you didn’t need a translator to understand that the third full-length from Seattle expatriate Case was the alt-country upstart’s finest, most affecting offering yet. Colleagues like Kelly Hogan, Calexico, and steel-guitar whiz Jon Rauhouse pitched in, but for the first time, this was unquestionably The Neko Case Show (she penned 10 of 13 songs unassisted), and her riveting performances were imbued with keen sensitivity and confident poise.
3. PRECIOUS BRYANT
Fool Me Good
(Terminus)
The best blues record in recent memory didn’t feature any flashy producers or A-list guest stars. In fact, there were no guests at all. Recorded live, with no overdubs, Fool Me Good was just the sound of a 59-year-old rural Georgia woman and her guitar, captivating even the most jaded ears with her unadorned renditions of “When the Saints Go Marching In,” Blind Willie McTell’s “Broke and Ain’t Got A Dime,” and her equally sublime originals.
4. KYLIE MINOGUE
Fever
(Capitol)
Yeah, yeah, I’m sure Sonic Youth made a record that was far more important, but would it kill you to have some fun for a change? The disc that finally made this international star a bona fide contender on U.S. shores boasted the most tenacious hook of the year (“Can’t Get You Out of My Head”) plus 11 equally stunning slices of candy-floss disco. Plus it was a nice surprise to hear such sexy sentiments sung by somebody a little older than the baby sitter for a change.
5. SUICIDE
American Supreme
(Mute)
Martin Rev lays down electronic riffs that are unnerving, yet oddly dance-floor friendly, offset by Alan Vega’s haunted, neo-rockabilly warbling, for a series of post-9/11 vignettes that are just as compelling, in their own fashion, as Springsteen’s anthemic The Rising. Hopefully, as an added bonus, the fifth studio offering from these underground synth-pop pioneers will convince 90 percent of the players in so-called “electroclash” movement to just shut up, sell their Roland keyboards, and go back to working at the second-hand clothing boutique like fate intended.
6. BECK
Sea Change
(Geffen)
Two words I never wanted to see together: Beck naked. But Mr. Hansen’s eighth full-length made me feel differently . . . just by making me feel, for once. Dropping the forced, “Look Ma, I’m dancing” funk of 1999’s Midnight Vultures, Sea Change proved unexpectedly sympathetic, full of stripped-down songs that bristled with vulnerability and seasoned with a modicum of artiness—string sections, quietly aching vocals—eerily reminiscent of David Sylvian.
7. HAIRSPRAY
Original Broadway Cast Recording
(Sony Classical)
It’s got Marc Shaiman of South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut infamy, flawlessly parodying every ’60s pop genre possible—from Motown and Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound, to Elvis’ schlocky movie ballads—plus Harvey Fierstein dancing in a housedress and a women-in-prison production number. What more do you want in a show? If musical comedy as an art form has any hope of pulling out of the tailspin Disney and Elton John have sent it into, Broadway needs a lot more lyrics like “the rats on the street/all dance round my feet.”
8. INTERPOL
Turn Out the Bright Lights
(Matador)
A lot of folks dug how much these guys sounded like Joy Division. But less commonly acknowledged was how much they recalled Kitchens of Distinction, an oft-overlooked ’90s U.K. indie trio who shared Interpol’s knack for melodramatic vocals, swirling guitars, and propulsive bass lines. Alas, the Kitchens have long since disbanded, and the best of their back catalog is out of print, which made the stellar, multifaceted debut from this New York quartet even more welcome.
9. FELIX DA HOUSECAT
Kittenz & Thee Glitz
(Emperor Norton)
If you’re gonna step back in time, do it in pointy-toed ankle boots, proclaimed the pop breakthrough from underground house stalwart Felix Stallings, which liberally borrowed from short-lived Reagan-era icons like Vanity 6 and Visage. Listening to “Silver Screen Shower Scene” today, it’s fun to remember there was once a time, less than 12 months ago, when Swiss guest vocalist Miss Kittin wasn’t so hopelessly overexposed and her sexy deadpan still contained a glimmer of wit.
10. RJD2
Deadringer
(Definitive Jux)
The mostly instrumental full-length debut from this Columbus, Ohio, underground hip-hop DJ-producer is chock full of visceral thrills, as grim and gritty as anything by David Holmes. Unlike the vast majority of by-the-numbers samples-plus-beats dreck clogging up the trip-hop bins, this disc actually manages to take conceits as creatively exhausted as a collage of monster movie samples (“The Horror”) and still serve up results that are still fresh and captivating.
ANDREW BONAZELLI
1. ISIS
Oceanic
(Ipecac)
It’s all right there in the title of the year: the invincible ebb and flow of monster distortion slowly turning Cookie Monster hard core into a breathtaking impressionist gallery show. Not only a gorgeous, intense, uncompromising triumph of instrumental weight, but—believe it or not—a totally soothing bedtime album.
2. BOTCH
An Anthology of Dead Ends EP
(Hydra Head)
I can’t stress the value of this band—or the tragedy of their split—enough. The members regard this posthumous collection as just OK, but you get gold: three astonishingly inventive blasts of math chaos, a beautiful, measured solo meditation from the bassist and absolute bedlam for the finale. Salute.
3. THE MARS VOLTA
Tremulant EP
(Gold Standard Laboratories)
While the other three-fifths of At the Drive-In in play respectable post-punk—and open for garbage like Disturbed and Sum 41—Cedric Bixler and Omar Rodriguez are recording the followup to this jaw-dropping clusterfuck of a teaser. Three jazzy, visceral barnburners pirouette off into barely controlled chaos. Must have more.
4. DENALI
Denali
(Jade Tree)
So the singer of obscure Richmond, Va., shoegazer troupe Engine Down has a sister who digs opera and rocks up Portishead with skyscraper-collapsing synth and toms. Check out “Gunner” on headphones, listen to Maura Davis cry, “I can see him . . . see my killer” and watch your sinuses split wide open.
5. TODAY IS THE DAY
Sadness Will Prevail
(Relapse)
The hidden track on the first disc: overlapping loops of psycho architect Steve Austin roaring “I want you dead!” It’s one of the creepiest constructs ever from a band that specializes in raw, burning red, bleeding, scabrous, primary color emotion. A masterpiece of the macabre from a vital noise-core veteran.
6. WAXWING
Nobody Can Take What Everybody Owns
(Second Nature)
If emo-core equals well-read, soulful, young white men layering wrought, intensely personal narratives over driven hard rock action, well, I dig it. Waxwing’s the closest thing to that on this list, and Rocky Votolato has perhaps the best male voice in town: raspy, ragged, and flat-out real.
7. EMINEM
The Eminem Show
(Interscope)
Self-important, inane, ignorant, and written with incomparable urgency and truth. Eminem exposes his myriad flaws without anesthetic, and better than any detractor would or has. I don’t care about your political, musical, or ethical affiliations; anyone who wants to learn how to tell a story with command should study this.
8. KID 606
The Action Packed Mentallist Brings You the Fucking Jams
(Violent Turd)
I know it’s no longer cutting-edge to blend multiple radio hits into some outlandish, bump ‘n’ grind mega-mix, but Kid 606 is operating way beyond that. He basically violates D12, Radiohead, Jay Z, Bikini Kill, and Missy Elliott singles, modulating their very essence into something deeply corrupt yet still danceable.
9. LOCAL H
Here Comes the Zoo
(Palm Pictures)
This criminally underrated Illinois power duo is buddies with Queens of the Stone Age and Burning Brides, and warrants props for keeping it Back in Black real. Guitar mack Scott Lucas isn’t kidding when he warns, “Keep your girlfriend away from me.” He can only be trusted with bad-ass power chords.
10. KYLIE MINOGUE
Fever
(Capitol)
Best smut since Lords of Acid’s Voodoo U. I feel dirty, sick, and desperate listening to this. Less fun without the videos’ androgynous robo-dancers and Kylie’s white-hot, thirtysomething, potentially artificial ass. Hot Snakes should probably be in this slot, but I’ve listened to this three times as much. Sue me.
CREDIBILITY-OBLITERATING GUILTY PLEASURES: Our Lady Peace, Gravity,(Sony): Upon their publicist’s request, I actually submitted personal notes about this record, which bemoaned the band’s “new pop leanings.” Please throw me off the Space Needle. Gravity Kills, Superstarved (Sanctuary): If you thought Orgy’s cover of “Blue Monday” was heresy, try GK’s stab at “Personal Jesus.” I adore both. Korn, Untouchables, (Sony): I’m still holding out hope that these n-metal trendsetters will reclaim the brutal, moving glory of their first album. Lobotomies have that effect. Linkin Park, Reanimated, (Warner Bros.): By employing foxy ex-Sneaker Pimps siren Kelli Dayton on this cash cow, these geniuses (more on this, um, someday) cinched my loyalty for life. Fieldy’s Dreams, Rock N’ Roll Gangsta, (Sony): Korn’s bassist raps about pot and bitches. Funnier than David Cross’ intentional comedy record.
LEAH GREENBLATT
Last year’s best list was a piece of pie to write. This year’s feels more like stale quiche. It’s not that weren’t plenty of good records, there just weren’t very many great records; we missed the heavens opening up and the angels singing and the birds rejoicing, etc. that we so took for granted in 2001. This time, we listened, we enjoyed, but we were not taken away, Calgon. So instead of pushing it to meet the artificial limits of top 10-dom, we’re giving you seven or eight records we liked—some of them a lot—in random order.
FLAMING LIPS
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
(Warner Bros.)
Not quite the lush masterpiece that was 1999’s Soft Bulletin, but still good enough to make this year’s list, and then some. Wayne Coyne remains Willy Wonka in a sonic wonderland, and even as the band holds fast to its nutball status, they’ve grown up—whether or not they choose to perform in furry bear suits while tossing out handfuls of confetti and doing the how-hot-is-my-butt dance, the melodies still resonate, and so do the lyrics. Opening track “Fight Test”‘s “I thought I was smart, I thought I was right/I thought it better not to fight . . . for to lose I could accept/but to surrender I just wept” reveals the kind of melancholy beauty that even the Lips’ best efforts at dada kookiness can’t obscure.
MIRAH
Advisory Committee
(K Records)
Oh, they grow those gawkishly cute, guitar-picking girls in Olympia like they grow weed in Humboldt, but Mirah Yom Tov Zeitlyn’s 2002 release was something else: Stunningly cinematic low-country anthems (“Cold Cold Water”), fervent torch songs (“The Garden”), and full-on Land of the Loops-style synth-stompers (“Recommendation”), all anchored by her sweet, pensive vocals. Even the dips into standard twee territory are still better than 90 percent of her contemporaries’ drippy efforts. Whoever funded this Committee, A+ to them.
INTERPOL
Turn on the Bright Lights
(Matador)
Man, did we try to resist this. Even if frontman Paul Banks did practically wear his influences—Psychedelic Furs, Echo and the Bunnymen, Joy Division, Joy Division, and Joy Division—stapled to his forehead, we couldn’t help ourselves. And even when we hated the lyrics (“The subway is a porno”? okie spenokie, Paul), the dark melodies still carried us away. Damn.
DJ SHADOW
Private Press
(MCA)
What with all these two-step days and electroclash nights, DJ Shadow’s hip-hop heavy pastiche beats are just a little too ’97 to garner the kind of press they once did. But that doesn’t mean his long-awaited followup to Endtroducing . . . (1998’s Preemptive Strike was oldies repackaged) isn’t excellent; it is. The haunting keyboard tides of “Giving Up the Ghost” answers End‘s classic “Midnight in a Perfect World” six years on, but Shadow’s not afraid to move on through ’70s psychedelia (the crazed Rush vocals on “Six Days”) or ’80s pop and lock (“Monosylabic” and “Mashin on the Motorway”), either. Call us old-fashioned, but we like it.
BRIGHT EYES
Lifted, Or the Story Is In the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground
(Saddle Creek)
We include this with a caveat: It makes our list as a really, really great EP. Unfortunately, it’s actually got 13 tracks, but if Connor Oberst had kept it down to seven, we would call it straight-up genius. Nebraska’s boy wonder brings out our inner angry, confused, hopeful 15-year-old like nobody else; on Lifted he also finds a whole new world of dense multitracking and lush instrumentation, and it’s gorgeous. Extra gold star for tracks two through five alone.
FELIX DA HOUSECAT
Kittenz & Thee Glitz
(Emperor Norton)
The end of 2002 has us saying, if retro is a dirty word, than “electroclash” is the poo on the bottom of a dirty shoe; everything about it that felt fresh and exciting in 2001 somehow devolved into some sad cocaine-and-pleather Williamsburg fashion freak show. But! Felix and his Glitz bizitch Miss Kittin—who also released her own album with the Hacker—are the oh-so-happy exception: Intelligent camp with a wicked sense of humor and ass-grabbing synth lines. “Madame Hollywood” and “Frank Sinatra?” Perfect.
EMINEM
The Eminem Show
(Interscope)
While we are still straining mightily to enjoy the Roots, the Jurassic 5, or any of that other “good for us” hip-hop, we just keep coming back to Mr. Marshall Mathers. His weird amalgamation of Kafka, Jerry Springer, and Al Capone still gets under our skin every time; there might not be an angrier artist in America, but there aren’t too many who are more talented either. So put that in your pipe, Bill O’Reilly.
HER SPACE HOLIDAY
Manic Expressive
(Tiger Style)
OK, fine, this came out at the end of 2001. But it’s been sending us off to dreamland all through 2002, and we love every part of it. Marc Bianchi’s music is like warm milk and honey for the soul, and we’ll bet the sweet, stuttery psychedelia of tracks like “Lydia” and “Ringing in My Ears” will still do it for us in 2009.
LAURA CASSIDY
A-FRAMES
A-Frames
(Dragnet/SS Records)
When you’re not sure if you’re crazy or a genius, a lost cause or a pretty geek. When pop doesn’t break enough windows for you, when punk breaks too many. When rock ‘n’ roll seems stupid and hopelessly weak. When drumbeats are like data codes, when guitars sing like robots, when bass lines are porn stars. When you predict the future and it comes true. When you’re a formula, when you’re a freak. When you find yourself inside a piece of 180 gram vinyl, when you’re partially dismantled but also complete. When you dream of the division of joy, when you dance to the bombs in your brain, when the only thing that makes you feel normal are the PiLs you take—this is the record playing in the background. This is the endless loop.
FM KNIVES
Useless & Modern
(Moo La La)
Right now in the tape deck of my 1981 Mercury Lynx, a cassette version of the 1993 Rhino released DIY: Teenage Kicks, UK Pop (1976-79) waits for me. If “Down the Street,” by Sacramento’s FM Knives, were to elude the laws of time and physics and slip in somewhere between Nick Lowe and the Undertones on said cassette, chances are I’d never leave my car. Absolutely the best Buzzcockian pop song you’ve never heard, “Down the Street” is 3 minutes and 38 seconds of starting over and never, ever looking back. What’s more, “Down the Street” is not an anomaly. Unlike a lot of albums these days, Useless & Modern is not just a single with some stupid padding around it; all 13 songs rule. All of ’em—they all rule. You’ll have a hard time tracking this thing down, but hard work pays off, or at least it will here.
WOLF EYES
Dread
(Bulb)
This is the shit the devil plays at his discoteque. Saturday night fever, indeed. By turns blisteringly monotonous and incongruently unsettling, Dread is the anti-easy listening electronic experiment that your inner sinner longs for. Feed it often, at high volumes. Not for the faint of heart, pop fans, or baby sitters.
PIRANHAS
Erotic Grit Movies
(In the Red)
Take all the ubiquitous garage and punk throwbacks (from the Germs to G. G. Allin, the Stooges, the Seeds, and the Sonics) and take them directly to a carnival on the outskirts of Detroit. A carnival where the cotton candy is made out of asbestos, the clowns puke blood, the Tilt O’Whirl eats little girls, and it is impossible to escape the House of Mirrors.
COUNTRY TEASERS
Science Hat, Artistic Cube, Moral Nosebleed Empire
(In the Red)
No time to read Edgar Allan Poe? No problem. Too cynical for your p.c. co-workers? Fuck ’em. Still hearin’ poetry in Mark E. Smith’s delivery? Amen. Too lo-fi for all the hi-fi? Hang in there, toughie. Too smart for alt.country? I hear ya. Too cool for Johnny Cash? Well, there we have a problem, buddy, but I think I’ll defer to Scotland’s Country Teasers and this double LP and let it kick your ass instead.
THE SPITS
The Spits
(702 Records)
What a lot of people don’t know is that after the filming of The Outsiders, Pony Boy Curtis and Dallas Winston moved to Seattle, drank copious amounts of Mad Dog 20/20, stole from the rich and gave to the poor, and wrote a bunch of songs in the vein of Devo, the Ramones, the Screamers, and the Stranglers. Not difficult stuff, you understand, but rather, impulse-driven junk punk. Three chords plus keyboards, lyrics so stupid they’re romantic, and live shows so ridiculous they’re great. Stay Gold, Spits, stay gold.
SPOON
Kill the Moonlight
(Merge)
A guilty pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless. Austin’s Spoon prove indie rock is still (marginally) relevant, Joe Jackson really was cool, and Elvis Costello had a thing or two in common with Mr. Frank Black.
ROB O’CONNOR
1. LAURA CANTRELL
When the Roses Bloom Again
(Diesel Only)
Anyone hooked on CMT’s idea of country music may wonder where the sizzlin’ lead guitars and sparklin’ synthesizers went, never mind why Laura has such small hair, but alt.country stragglers will certainly revere her sweet small-town girl delivery, where she intones the humility of old-time Kitty Wells and modern day Lucinda Williams without the dreaded hangover.
2. NEIL HALSTEAD
Sleeping On Roads
(4AD)
I’m a sucker for just about every shameless Nick Drake aficionado. Neil Halstead still has miles to go before he bunks with Duncan Sheik at the Nick Drake Emulation Camp. But for now, he’s content to “borrow” from another Drake fan, Damien Jurado, when he isn’t busy hunting down the orchestral scores of Five Leaves Left. Halstead’s first solo album (after steadily improving with Mojave 3) takes his fascination beyond the sad-sack whispers and overriding feelings of loss and alienation to the heart of some truly epic songwriting.
3. MOUNTAIN GOATS
Tallahassee
(4AD)
Over the past few years, no songwriter has impressed me more than John Darnielle. There’s an existential despair to his humor and a wide-eyed optimism that surges through his shaky voice and rambunctious guitar playing. If this album were being reviewed in an audiophile magazine, the sound quality would rate “shitty.” As it stands, it’s the first MG album to be recorded completely in a recording studio. Hi-Fi simply don’t matter. Tallahassee is the story of a drunken Florida couple who watch TV at full blast and try to deny the drag it is getting old.
4. BRENDAN GAMBLE
Heartless Moon
(Mud)
Brendan Gamble’s wife divorces him and the Urbana, Ill., recording engineer writes song after song after song trying to come to terms with what went wrong. Not since Matthew Sweet have I heard a guy sing “wimp” with such gutsy conviction. What went wrong? Who’s to say? One thing’s for sure: Love Stinks.
5. TOM WAITS
Blood Money
(Anti-)
Check back next week and it’ll be Alice, Waits’ other 2002 release in this spot. Waits gets older, grows more cynical, acts as weird as he wants to be. None of which would mean squat if he didn’t squeeze poignant melodies out of a voice slowly closing in on him.
6. ROSIE THOMAS
When We Were Small
(Sub Pop)
Could it be the next Sub Pop plot to clothe the world in peasant dresses and send the children to put flowers in the soldiers’ guns? Or maybe we’ll all sit cross-legged in a circle around the fire singing songs about Jesus and reading from the Bible (no, make that, The Way). In any case, I’m just being mean because liking earnest folk music and pretty melodies the way I do only tends to make the people around me think I’m up to something. But I’m not. Really.
7. SONGS: OHIA
Didn’t It Rain
(Secretly Canadian)
Jason Molina can stutter on two chords and make it sound like a grand pronouncement. Recording his band live in a room shouldn’t be the exception to the rule that it is. Luckily, he knows how to pick his shots and how to pick the room.
8. PAUL WESTERBERG
Stereo/Mono
(Vagrant)
Some consider this dual-release “How Paul Westerberg Got His Groove Back.” But I’m in that minority that loved Suicaine Gratifaction and think All Shook Down is every bit as good as any album with a Replacements name on it. So while I’ll always love his emotive whine, I don’t need any nods to his punk roots to authenticate his feelings. That said, I also don’t mind hearing him having fun messing around in his basement.
9. WOODBINE
Woodbine
(Domino)
Lazy trio of British druggies hand over their accomplishments for mixing to lazy duo of American druggies (Royal Trux billed here as Adam & Eve). Things become blurrier and more disjointed, only enhancing the narcoleptic swing of the entire affair. These guys party like it’s 19zzzzzzzz.
10. THE MOONEY SUZUKI
Electric Sweat
(Gammon)
New York rock band goes to Detroit to catch MC5 lightning in a bottle—very nearly doing so. There’s subtle cataclysm in these well-worn grooves that recall everyone from the early Who, Pretty Things, and Them. They can’t re-create the shock and horror of a guitar’s first feedback blast, but they can all get dorky haircuts and act like freaks!
REISSUES: Rounder should be commended for reissuing Bruce Cockburn’s catalog. It’s awfully nice of Rhino and Elvis Costello to reissue his catalog yet again. (Personally, I’m waiting until they issue each album as its own boxed set.) Three Beads of Sweat released three albums of rare Mountain Goats tracks as Protein Source of the Future . . . Now, Bitter Melon Farm, and Ghana. And Columbia/Sony didn’t take another decade to send out the next installment of Bob Dylan’s Bootleg Series. But my fave issue of old music: Rocket from the Tombs: The Day The Earth Met the . . . Live from Punk Ground Zero, Cleveland 1975 on Smog Veil Records.
PAUL FONTANA
1. SILVER JEWS
Bright Flight
(Drag City)
“And they slowed danced so the needle wouldn’t skip . . . ” Lovely. For all the horrendous verse offered in the name of rock ‘n’ roll, it’s good to know that there are poets of David Berman’s caliber to balance things out. Bright Flight was actually released at the tail end of 2001, which might be cheating yet also somewhat fitting in a decidedly lackluster year. Though first known primarily as a Pavement side project, the Silver Jews body of work may stand the test of time better than its more famous cousin—the 2002 reissue of Slanted & Enchanted didn’t convince me otherwise.
2. INTERPOL
Turn on the Bright Lights
(Matador)
Maybe it’s the fancy suits or more likely that they wear their influences (Joy Division, Echo & the Bunnymen, etc.) a little too readily on those finely tailored sleeves, but Interpol are already well on their way to being the backlash-band-du jour. Whatever. Three or four songs from this album pop into my head with alarming frequency and I don’t mind one bit.
3. LIARS
They Threw Us All in a Trench and Put a Monument on Top
(Mute)
Seeing this band up close was one of the most exhilarating experiences of the year, but their intensity, thankfully, also translates in the studio as well as can be expected. Their jerky rhythms have correctly been linked to some early-’80s post-punk innovators, but the Liars have more funk in them than Gang of Four could ever dream of (they owe even more to N.Y.C. legends ESG, whose ESG: A South Bronx Story is essential).
4. THE AISLERS SET
Mission Bells EP
(Suicide Squeeze)
A couple months ago, I had the privilege of hearing some early recordings from the Aislers Set’s forthcoming LP, which could very well be the best record of 2003. This three-song offering is very stopgap, but it bears all the trademarks of a band that seems to have been possessed by the spirit of some Brill Building specter; at the very least, the Aislers Set fully grasps that the Shangri-Las were much more than ’60s bubblegum.
5. QUIX*O*TIC
Mortal Mirror
(Kill Rock Stars)
This bass-heavy trio makes music that’s dark and mysterious—gothic (though not in the stupid vampire makeup and fishnet stocking sense of the word). The band has some serious indie-rock background—lead vocalist Christina Billotte was previously in Autoclave and Slant 6—and the album includes a Black Sabbath cover, but Mortal Mirror‘s real achievement may be its singular spin on the blues.
6. WILCO
Yankee Foxtrot Hotel
(Nonesuch)
After listening to their competent, but entirely boring debut, A.M., I turned a deaf ear to Wilco. While I still don’t think they’re particularly important, Yankee Foxtrot Hotel‘s pop craftsmanship is unassailable. If anything, it’s certainly good enough to stand as a monument to the idiocy and irrelevance of major-label record companies. (Maybe I should revisit Summerteeth, too).
7. A-FRAMES
A-Frames
(self-released)
The A-Frames are from Seattle and they sing songs about robots (and paranoia and sinister forces and maybe even love). All things you should care about, all informed by brilliant bands like Joy Division, the Fall, and the Screamers. So far, not many people around here seem to have noticed. Maybe the robots have already won.
8. FLAMING LIPS
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
(Warner Bros.)
Speaking of robots, the Flaming Lips can do better than this. Still, an average Flaming Lips record is more rewarding than the best most bands on the planet can muster. For a band known for being experimental, Yoshimi seems quite content to tread in the same water as 2000’s Soft Bulletin; enough people seemed to find that record revelatory, though, that the crime is forgivable. (Also check out Finally the Punk Rockers Are Taking Acid, a 2002 repackaging of the Lips’ early stuff; and if you haven’t heard 1993’s Transmissions From the Satellite Heart lately or ever, do so—it’s the perfect balance of big noise and pop aspiration.)
9. DEVENDRA BARNHART
Oh Me Oh My
(Young Gods)
Coming soon to lots of music magazines near you: Devendra Barnhart, a 21-year-old who looks live Vincent Gallo’s little brother and sings just like a young Mark Bolan. The woodsy, stoner folk on Oh Me is as captivating as 4-track bedroom stuff gets, but sounds less like a proper LP than a collection of demos for a pop masterpiece in the making. Let’s hope so.
10. IKARA COLT
Chat and Business
(Fantastic Plastic)
If Sonic Youth were from London and didn’t give a hoot about that no-wave, No New York stuff, they might have sounded something like this. Ikara Colt are first and foremost an adrenalized guitar band; there are lots of those, I suppose, but I’m a total sucker for ones that feature male/female vocal interplay—X, Versus, and Prolapse (whatever happened to them, anyway).
THE REST: Honorable Mention: Mekons Ooh! (Quarterstick); the Kills Black Rooster (Dim Mak); F.M. Knives Useless and Modern (Moo La La); Sleater-Kinney One Beat (Kill Rock Stars); Low Trust (Kranky) RE-ISSUES/BOX SETS: The Fall Totally Wired: Rough Trade Anthology (Rough Trade); the Who My Generation (MCA); Human League Dare (Caroline); Lou Reed Transformer (RCA); Beat Happening Crashing Through (K) COMPILATIONS:All’s Fair in Love and Chickfactor (Enchante); Rough Trade Shops Rock N Roll V1 (Rough Trade)
FRED MILLS
1. MUDHONEY
Since We’ve Become Translucent
(Sub Pop)
Four-star review or not, when, in a ’98 Rolling Stone review of the band’s Reprise swan-song Tomorrow Hit Today, some tastemaker quipped, “We’ve come not to expect too much from Mudhoney, grunge’s most gleefully willful underachievers,” some of us stood up, went to the window and hollered, “I’m mud as honey and I’m not gonna take it anymore!” Mudhoney stood for something—call it back-to-punk-roots, whatever—and, duly inspired, we expected a friggin’ lot from ’em. The band not only predated grunge but outlasted it, too. They delivered the goods then—and they still do.
2. GODSPEED YOU! BLACK EMPEROR
Yanqui U.X.O.
(Constellation)
With songs clocking in at 16, 20, 21, 10 and (a measly, but don’t hold it against ’em) 6 minutes, you might expect grandiose, sweeping, post-punky-cum-prog “statements.” Au contraire, mon yanqui,” the Canadian band sez. These Albini-recorded instrumentals for massed guitars, strings, and percussion are humbly introspective, intense meditations upon love, life, larf ‘n’ loaf. Well, they’re loud as fuck, too, I’ll give ya that. But nobody ever said space-rock had to be difficult. Note the telling relocation of the band-name exclamation point, too; it previously appended the “emperor.”
3. BURNT SUGAR
That Depends on What You Know
(Trugroid)
An improvisational collective assembled by Black Rock Coalition founders Greg Tate (Village Voice) and Vernon Reid (Living Colour, Yohimbe Brothers), Burnt Sugar quietly issued this sprawling three-CDR set to the delight of in-the-know heads. Expect dubby-jazz soundscapes, shifting-sands percussion, swampy grooves, psychedelic soul vocal and chants, a cover here and there (Hendrix, Miles, Monk, Curtis Mayfield, Rufus) and more head-wringing effects than a barrelful of Bill Laswells. If you’re into Sun Ra’s intergalactic populism, Jimi Hendrix’s merman guitar and Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew-era recording and performance aesthetics, you’ll be happy as a clam orbiting Saturn.
4. ANTIBALAS
Talkatif
(Ninja Tune)
The Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra of renegade funkateers hijack George Clinton’s Parliament mothership for an ethnodelic, polyrhythmic adventure of epic proportions. The journey commences in the sweaty lofts of Brooklyn’s funk/soul Daptone Records crew only to wind up in the steamy jungles of Mama Africa. You want soul? Raw but silky-sweet delights herein. Funk? Horny horns never hornier, stanky grooves never stankier. Jazz? Right on. Roll over Dark Magus, and tell Fela Kuti the news.
5. WIRE
Read & Burn
(Pinkflag)
Holy post-punk, Batman. In a single swipe of a six-song mini-album, the reconstituted Wire mops the boards with practically any rockisback! outfit you’d care to name, from Strokes to Hives to Vines; the searing, coruscating guitars, precision-thrash drums, and edgy, sardonic vocals are, not to put too fine a point on it, punk as fuck. And all those joyless, uh, Joy Division clones and gangs of, ahem, Gang of Four wanna-bes currently making the rounds? Fuhgeddaboutit—Wire makes mincemeat out of those yo-yos, proving once again that age trumps fashion any day of the week.
6. KARRY WALKER
Ultralash
(Fictitious)
Technically, both the artist and CD title here are known as Ultralash but I insist on calling Ms. Walker by her proper name because it deserves to be widely known. Surfacing in ’99 on San Francisco’s Ubiquity label and now going the self-release route, her Roger Moutenot- (Sleater-Kinney, Yo La Tengo) produced followup casts her in a mold every bit as atmospherically avantish as Lisa Germano, as pop/psych/folky as Mary Timony, as in-your-face as PJ Harvey. She brings to mind a female version of Howe Gelb or Conor (Bright Eyes) Oberst, just in case you need some extra name-dropping with your breakfast.
7. GREY DE LISLE
Homewrecker
(Hummin’bird Records)
Scan the voice credits for PBS kids’ ‘toon Clifford the Big Red Dog and right after John Ritter’s name (as the titular pooch) you’ll spot Grey De Lisle holding down “Emily Ann” (Cliff’s owner) duties. Hey, I have a 2-year-old—I know this stuff! In her other occupation, however, well . . . with De Lisle’s octave-leaping pipes, raven bouffant, and deep-mascaraed come-hither gaze, she’s a sultry cross between Bobbie Gentry, Loretta Lynn, and fellow contemporary chanteuse Neko Case. Joined on her second album by Marvin Etzioni, Greg Leisz, Benmont Tench, Jerry Yester, and others, she criss-crosses the alt-country/roots-rock spectrum with cool-as-cucumber aplomb.
8. BLOODTHIRSTY LOVERS
Bloodthirsty Lovers
(self-released CD)
Soon to be rereleased nationally on the frenchkiss label, ex-Grifter/Those Bastard Souls Dave Shouse’s new project is an outrageous marriage of kinetic glam pop, prog-spackled psychedelia and cyberpunkish electronica. Yet there’s no trace of excess, so goddam hearty, heartfelt, and tuneful these tunes are. Imagine Todd Rundgren producing Ziggy Stardust with Primal Scream backing up La Bowie. Ground control to Major Dave—I think you made it. How’s the air up there?
9. ACID MOTHERS TEMPLE & THE MELTING PARAISO U.F.O.
Electric Heavyland
(Alien 8)
Univers Zen ou de Zero a Zero
(Fractal)
I know, I know—how to whittle down your list of 2002 Acid Mothers releases when there were, like, 10 or 15 of ’em? Do what I did—toss a dart at a chart. Mine landed in between these two. The former technically comprises three “songs,” but it basically represents an hour-long freakout guitar improv. It gave my cat the runs, so I know it’s a good rec. The latter provokes its share of intestinal disorders too, but it also is rife with dreamy moments of pastoral folkadelica and has a distinctively “majestic”—almost cinematic—vibe.
10. THE GREENHORNES
Dual Mono
(Telstar)
Talking recently to Steve Van Zandt about his syndicated garage rock radio show “Little Steven’s Underground Garage,” I was advised by Silvio, in an offer-you-can’t-refuse kinda voice, “So rock is back, huh? Son, get down to a record store right now and buy that new Greenhornes’ platter.” Indeed, herein find enough fuzztone-induced psychotic reactions, swivel-hipped love-in moves and snot-nosed teenage ramalama to float a tanker’s worth of Nuggets box sets. This Cincy band doesn’t try to stroke you or give you the hives with hair styles, haberdashery, or hanging out with celebs; the Greenhornes just rock like motherfuckers.
CHRIS NELSON
1. BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN
The Rising
(Columbia)
Springsteen plumbs a nation’s grief by telling individual stories on the ground. The detail—in lyrical phrasing, in instrumentation, in replicating, for instance, the complex emotional tenor involved in forcing yourself to move beyond the sadness—is extraordinary. In the end, The Rising offers as much hope for the country as Nebraska offered desolation.
2. SONIC YOUTH
Murray Street
(Geffen)
The Sonics have been warping fans’ ears now for more than two decades and nearly two dozen albums. But instead of hanging up their guitars or Xeroxing a proven success, they added avant-garde and pop composer Jim O’Rourke to the lineup and created their third masterwork, after Daydream Nation and Washing Machine.
3. SLEATER-KINNEY
One Beat
(Kill Rock Stars)
Sleater-Kinney tackle the worst of the uncontrollable—falling skyscrapers, premature birth— with their most precisely controlled music. It took six albums for the band to work up a blues, and “Sympathy” is worth the wait.
4. WILCO
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
(Nonesuch)
The David and Goliath story of Wilco besting their short-sighted record label has earned as much ink as the disc itself. But 20 years from now, that’ll be a footnote on pages written on a marvelously textured album about someone trying to wade through breakups and resiliency, his past and future.
5. THE GOSSIP
Arkansas Heat
(Kill Rock Stars)
This Olympia-by-way-of-Arkansas trio hit the scene a couple years back with dirt-basic R&R about luring your partner to duck with you behind the bushes. With this EP, they add class politics to the mix and make their sexiest music yet.
6. HELLA
Hold Your Horse Is
(5 Rue Christine)
Two guys that sound like a sextet of octopi. Drummer Zach Hill lets beats fly like a shotgun fired in a ricochet room. Guitarist Spencer Seim’s as relentless as a hailstorm five miles wide. No vocals. But while Hella own all kinds of prog-rock chops, this disc is nothing but punk. Hella aren’t fleeing for fantasyland—quite the contrary. They replicate real life: a whirlwind in which our humanity competes daily to rise above the chaos enveloping it.
7. PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES
Good Health
(Lookout!)
Pretty Girls match their supernova energy with tapestrylike intricacy, then ground it with a concrete bass foundation. What sets the hometown faves apart is Andrea Zollo’s literate lyrics. Instead of the Rorschach inkblot words proffered by so many post-Fugazi outfits, Zollo writes clear, emotional stories of rapture, betrayal, and longing.
8. SUPER FURRY ANIMALS
Rings Around the World
(Beggars XL)
The SFAs have created a musically majestic look at this modern world. Top tunes include a Beatles-esque take on the gadgetry that threatens to bury us and a country-influenced indictment of Dubya’s itchy trigger finger that evolves into a glorious techno triumph.
9. LIARS
They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top
(Mute)
The Liars throw down a big, fat noisy mess you can shake your ass to. That’s enough.
10. HIVES
Veni Vidi Vicious
(Sire/Burning Heart/Epitaph)
People who compare the Hives to the Stooges are the same dunderheads who complained about Green Day ripping off the Clash. Similar sounds, sure, but different missions entirely. This country was just itching for some overcaffeinated sass like the Hives’ to break big. Give the Swedes extra praise for the best song titles since the Minutemen (dig: “The Hives—Introduce the Metric System in Time”).
EXTRA, EXTRA: Favorite box set: 20 Years of Dischord, a compilation of Washington, D.C. punk. Fave live set: Bob Dylan, Live 1975: The Bootleg Series Vol. 5: The Rolling Thunder Revue. Fave single: Eminem, “Lose Yourself.” Fave album track, Scary-but-hopeful-apocalyptic-vision-by-artist-who’s-lived-long-enough-to-speak-with-authority Division: Johnny Cash, “The Man Comes Around.”
