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Volume CXXXIII, Number 11 |
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2003's best albums
SEAN TURLEY
COLUMNIST
1. Nada Surf, Let Go
Let Go is simply the best pop(ular) record in seemingly forever. This totally dismissed band's mix of na‹ve lyrics, hyper-melodic loud/soft guitar, fluid bass, and air drum-able fills is perfect for overcoming the winter malaise, fueling spring fever, and soundtrack-ing summer Sundays, holding up over the last nine months with the same hopeful brilliance it had when it was released. Songs like "Happy Kid" veer into the lyrically absurd (rhyming "id" and "kid") while "Inside of Love" beautifully laments and "High Speed Soul" ricochets with its bombastic guitars and driving rhythms. These conflicting sounds hit super, sugary pop gold through an underlying grace and innocence. Guaranteed to melt all that ice in your head.
2. The Shins, Chutes too Narrow
James Mercer's voice, accompanied by a joyous hodgepodge of power pop, occasional steel guitar, and surreal lyrical tropes, is mind-blowing. Departing from the pyschedelia of Oh Inverted World, Mercer finds solace in Alex Chilton-worthy tales of tragedy and kites-as-women metaphors in this epic sophomore release. His shocking falsetto, always teetering on the edge of melancholy, fills the album with myriad sing-a-long moments, especially on the whimsical "So Says I" that literally compels you with its sweeping wordless voiceplay to bob your head in pop bliss. Alt-country meets New Pornographers perfection.
3. The Strokes, Room on Fire
Rock and roll is here to stay in the Strokes, who channel their debut, Is This It, through a slightly lower-fi amp on Room on Fire. Complementing their sound with new wave, guitar-as-Casio-keyboard melodies ("12:51"), yet another layer of distortion on Julian's voice ("Automatic Stop"), and bar room soul ("Under Control"), the Strokes find eleven more 3:00 rock nuggets filled to the brim with catchy, even danceable hooks. Screw the pretenders: Strokes rock 'n' roll is all that matters.
4. Broken Social Scene, You Forgot it in People
Now for something completely original. With its cosmic scope and complexity, You Forgot it in People by the Toronto nine-piece Broken Social Scene plays out like the grand album Spiritualized will never make. Mesmerizing bass lines, distorted female/male vocal interplay, orchestral swells and existential lyrics coalesce into a dark, ultra-otherworldly soundscape that defies description without heading into pretentious post-rocking.
5. Cat Power, You Are Free
You Are Free speaks to a naked, abused heart. Chan Marshall, a.k.a. Cat Power, fights through requiems for lost friends ("I Don't Blame You") and redeeming, resolute declarations ("Good Woman"). Eddie Vedder's damaged voice, the Dirty Three's violent violin and guitar, David Grohl's rough drumming style and the occasional children's choir melody provide the perfect distorted context for Chan's dazing hymns. Alt-country self loathing never sounded so pure and inspiring.
6. My Morning Jacket, It Still Moves
I don't know how, but Jim James actually does a better job capturing Neil Young's forlorn, high pitch purr than Neil Young. It Still Moves plays out like Young's Live Rust if Neil actually grew up in Kentucky, traded in the abrasive Crazy Horse for the Stax Records horn section, and sang in a grain silo. "One Big Holiday," the greatest American rock song this year, embodies the best of My Morning Jacket's major label debut. After the guitarists fire off a resilient three-note riff passage, Jim's voice comes soaring in only to break the clouds for a ferocious solo that, inexplicably, gets better with every roaring line. I shit you not: this song inspired my level-headed mother to air guitar. Now if that's not a ringing endorsement for a record, I don't know what is.
7. Califone, Quicksand/ Cradlesnakes
Califone's music embodies both the mystique of back porch, farmland Americana and the 21st century's commitment to artificial blip rock with its drum loops and heavily-miked rhythms. Paradoxically though, this collision sounds downright organic. The passages on Quicksand/Cradlesnakes find Califone espousing non-sensical lyrical bits through Tim Rutili's hayseed-rough voice over a surreal glitch soundscapes that vaguely resemble the spaciest moments on Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Ethereal electric guitars, smooth banjo riffs, and quiet violins combine to put the heartrending majesty of a winding country road to vinyl.
8. The Postal Service, Give Up
A pairing made in IDM heaven: Death Cab for Cutie's dewdrop vocalist, Ben Gibbard, and Dntel's mastermind, Jimmy Tamborello, unite to finally elevate electronica out of the voiceless, mood-through-sonics doldrums to create something resoundingly interesting on Give Up, their first of hopefully infinite collaborations. Songs like "Recycled Air" finds Gibbard's unserious musings on modern life punctuating the artificiality in Tamborello's electronics while the duet on "Nothing Better," with the song's slowing, cascading distorted piano line and symphonic glitches, captures heartache better than any purely human sounds possibly could.
9. Gillian Welch, Soul Journey
Country confessional albums always ring with such resounding truth-especially ones written by female vocalists with a tearful twang like Gillian Welch-that you can't help but cry a bit. Soul Journey is no exception: channeling her lonesome memories through her acoustic guitar ("I Had a Real Good Mother and Father") and a backing group reminiscent of the Band ("Wayside/Back in Time"), Gillian plays the minor key, Nashville minstrel to grand effect. Devastatingly forlorn love songs and dark social commentary rock and roll one after the other, giving the album a sweltering bite that confirms Gillian's status as the voice of modern traditional country.
10. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Fever to Tell
When I reviewed Fever to Tell last spring, I condemned the album for its faux-cool posturing and annoying, high pitched yelps. This might still be so true, but damn if anyone should let it ruin a beautifully smutty record. The initially abrasive sounds fade over repeated listens. Eventually you can hear Karen O's voice crashing over Nick Zinner's deformed blues guitar riffs ("Maps") and Brian Chase's jazzy, off-kilter drumming ("No No No"). The album climaxes on "Y Control," which features a filthy, driving surf guitar riff riding down an alley gutter pipe and Karen's rhythmic vocals that hammer home her dangerous aspirations perfectly. This album rocks hard and long.
Disappointment of the Year: Radiohead's Hail to the Thief
Initially I was going to write this on the White Stripes' over-hyped Elephant. I had all these great elephant similes (as bloated, as big and as full of hot air as an elephant) but then a Radiohead B-side changed my mind. In the first three minutes of listening to the original album, I absolutely adored Hail to the Thief. The opening track, "2+2=5," starts off with such a blistering guitar part and entrancing vocal chants that I stood outside of my room in shock and awe.
But then, they had to attach 14 other somewhat boring songs on top of that and get all "Radiohead" with electronics and few guitars. I was really annoyed, though, after hearing the alternate version of "I Will," the vocal/guitar mourn near the end of the album, that appears on the "2+2=5" single. With the addition of a simple, nonchalant 4/4 drum pattern, what was a self-important piece of grandiosity gets turned into a Bends tune, a really great return to form. So Hail to the Thief could have been the best Radiohead album since OK Computer. Instead, it's just a damn shame.
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