Known as “not having a filter,” to some, “prolific” to others, Kanye has purposefully and successfully aestheticized the imperfections of longwindedness and spontaneous outbursts. He sang and rapped his first single despite his jaw being partially wired shut, and tweaked a Chaka Khan sample that originally said “fire” instead of “wire” to make the hook fit synctactically as effectively as it did emotionally. The last track on that same album spends its last nine minutes as an ad-hoc origin myth, recited like a loquacious bus rider in a Jarmusch film. In one of his biggest singles, he sings “I ain’t sayin’” immediately before he says something, as much doubling the length of the subsequent thought as negating it. During his stream-of-consciousness anti-Bush rant, he could barely contain himself, looking like he was going to break down in tears, while Mike Myers tried, stoically, to remember what it was like to do improv. He’s the guy who stormed the stage of the European VMAs to bitch about losing an award, and rush-recorded an album channeling Tubeway Army and T-Pain because he was pissed at his ex-girlfriend and mourning his lost mother.

Kanye’s voice isn’t “bad,” necessarily, not in the traditional sense anyway. He’s just using the parts of it that he’s not supposed to. The result is a timbre that we don’t often hear, not in music at least: primal scream therapy, or Kanye’s version of Lennon yelling himself hoarse at the end of “Mother.” Only Kanye’s never proven himself able to sing songs like this. That’s not stopped him yet, but that’s his point. He’s using stardom as practice, writing songs in the manner of conversation fragments and flustered, late-night voicemail messages. He’s an untouchable global pop-star, no doubt with a cadre of professional advisors, but is still running the risk of embarassing himself on a regular basis: simultaneously untouchable and resoundingly, publicly fallible. So, yes: “Love Lockdown” is a terrifying song in many regards, but it’s made infinitely more uncomfortable by Kanye’s grotesque performance of prolix, technologized amateurism.

Maybe that song was “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa,” which I heard at some point that evening; I can’t remember. It was one of the more memorable moments from their debut EP from a few months back, but its recontextualizing of a decades-old Congolese dance rhythm to an upper-middle class, educated, white demographic might make many think indie-style colonialism. It makes me think of what Bruner and Kirshenblatt-Gimblett called “tourist realism” in “Maasai on the Lawn”: an account is of a British-run tourist trap in Kenya that hired and paid local tribesmen and women to perform their traditional rituals, every day, for rich visitors who watched them while drinking tea, before taking a bus back to Nairobi. Every bit of the performance was framed for the tourists’ amateur photographic lenses, which permanently fixed an essentializing gaze upon the tribespeople. The Maasai were required to clock in and out each day, before and after performing a stylized version, more or less, of themselves and their traditions.

“Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa” is a similar form of colonial performance: a group of four Columbia-educated kids (three white, one Indian) making a bit of central African dance culture work for them, on their and their audience’s own terms. But it’s not Graceland, which was blinded by the straight-faced West-helps-the-rest ideology so pervasive in the mid-1980s, with Paul Simon parading Ladysmith Black Mambazo in front of American audiences, using their own cultural authenticity to reaffirm his own place in the pop-cultural landscape.

No, “Kwassa Kwassa” is a nostalgic song, like a lot of Vampire Weekend’s music, but one that, like the band’s on-stage garb of tucked-in Oxford shirts and deck shoes, purposefully plays with vanilla, upper-crust symbols of category membership. Within its first two verses, the song rhymes “Louis Vuitton” with “reggaeton,” and documents (like Art Brut’s “Rusted Guns of Milan” and a thousand other songs), an awkward, lusty, teenage experience. This one happened to be soundtracked by Peter Gabriel.

The phrase “Kwassa Kwassa,” of course, is to be taken metaphorically in a similar way that “rock and roll” originally was. This, of course, carries with it (for those who care to look) a swarm of issues surrounding the co-optation of black music by whites. Koenig is no dummy here, either: when he sings the word “Benetton,” and the lyric “but this feels so unnatural/ Peter Gabriel too,” he’s explicitly laying at critics’ doorsteps the opportunity to run wild with theories about this fucking Ivy League motherfucker and how all he knows about Africa he learned from magazine ads and by listening to Us. Or: how this kid is creating the same sort of snow-globed, slickly-realized cultural cosmopolitanism that tourist companies and hotel chains make billions of dollars from.

In his retort to Sasha Frere-Jones’ New Yorker piece regarding the perceived whiteness of indie rock, Carl Wilson noted, “(SF-J’s) consistent mistake seems to be to talk about musical issues as if they were nearly autonomous from larger social dynamics. It’s the blind spot of a genuine music lover, but it grants music culture too much power and assigns it too much blame.” What Frere-Jones misses, Wilson rightly argues, is class: “the particular kind of indie rock Frere-Jones complains about is more blatantly upper-middle class and liberal-arts-college-based, and less self-aware or politicized about it.” This sort of music “shows off its chops via its range of allusions and high concepts with the kind of fluency both postmodern pop culture and higher education teach its listeners to admire.”

Yet it’s this exact context that also leads to the sort of gumbo that Vampire Weekend creates in “Kwassa Kwassa,” which SF-J currently ranks as his #10 song of 2007. The song is, in Frere-Jones’ terms, “miscegenated” through and through, no question. At the same time, though, Koenig ensures through his strategic cultural references that it’s also bookish and ironic, the sort of “coffeehouse indie” of Wilson’s description. Most importantly, it’s also purposefully “white,” and, I would argue, “self-aware.”

In his Stylus review of the band’s EP, Mike Powell wrote:

“The question of whether or not four Columbia grads have a right to clumsily approximate African rhythms misses the point. Better that they exist in all their postcolonial glory if it means one less boring rock band. Furthermore, because they probably grew up in houses whose owners spun Graceland a lot more often than Can records or early disco, they come by their sound honestly—and, if not unpretentiously, under a pretense that a lot of people can probably share.”

I agree with Powell’s idea that calling out Vampire Weekend’s cultural authenticity is off-base, and I’d add that calling out this band for their (currently hip) African appropriations is just another form of genre gatekeeping. Yet while I can sign off on the guys’ affective engagement with this music coming from an “honest” place–just like Koenig’s in-concert collegiate reveries the other night–I also believe that Koenig knows exactly what he’s doing when he writes his lyrics. He’s speaking, like a lot of us typerly types are trained to do, in simultaneous dialects of ethnography and irony, playing with charged ideas that are bound to get people into two types of tizzy. One: the type of tizzy that calls the band a bunch of candy-ass indie-colonialist assholes, or, two: my current tizzy, which struggles with whether Koenig wants the first tizzy to happen.

I’m not saying that Koenig’s sort of wise-assedness—a geekier take on the private-school brand that the Strokes and Walkmen work so well—makes Vampire Weekend great, or that this sort of coyness doesn’t bother me (which it does). It’s just that I don’t think it’s giving a seeming purist like Koenig too much credit to infer that he thinks Peter Gabriel and Paul Simon watered down African music to fit within a Western pop template, and in the process made sappy pap that’s impossible to fuck to in your parents’ beach house.

I’m also not trying to say that Vampire Weekend is ammunition to shoot holes in Carl’s essay; he never says this sort of thing is impossible, and certainly theories come with exceptions. What I am saying, is that Koenig’s own virtuosic performance of clueless bougie cosmopolitanism underscores the fact that larger social dynamics can also show through indie music in ways that confuse the assumed wisdom about how they’re supposed to operate. After all, Vampire Weekend isn’t alone in their appreciation for a certain trendy bagmaker: fittingly, Wilson wraps up his piece with a reference to the self-proclaimed “Louis Vuitton Don.”

1. Black & White Town–Doves
2. A Little Bit More–Jamie Lidell
3. Gone (f. Cam’ron & Consequence)–Kanye West
4. Trouble With Dreams–Eels
5. All We Are–Fischerspooner
6. Gideon–My Morning Jacket
7. Like A Honeycomb–British Sea Power
8. There Goes the Sun–The Pernice Brothers
9. I Was A Teenage Rainphase–Stereolab
10. So Begins Our Alabee–Of Montreal
11. Paul Simon–The Russian Futurists
12. Sing Me Spanish Techno–The New Pornographers
13. Ringodom Or Proctor–Head of Femur
14. Exodus Damage–John Vanderslice
15. Bloodline–Orenda Fink
16. All the Little Pieces–Louis XIV
17. Bird On A Wire–Rogue Wave
18. Grass–Animal Collective
19. Don’t Save Us From The Flames–M83
20. Hope There’s Someone–Antony & The Johnsons

marathonpacks year-end mix, vol. 4 (128k mp3, 71.9MB) (expired)

1. Howl–Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
2. Lavender–Oneida
3. Do Not As I Do-Hanne Hukkelberg
4. It Kills–Stephen Malkmus
5. Pieces–Field Music
6. My Own Face Inside the Trees–The Clientele
7. They Never Got You–Spoon
8. I’m Pretty Sure I Can See Molecules–Troubled Hubble
9. My Doorbell–The White Stripes
10. The Shouty Track–Lemon Jelly
11. World of Vibrations–Blackalicious
12. Good Stuff–Clor
13. Tribulations–LCD Soundsystem
14. I Ain’t Saying My Goodbyes–Tom Vek
15. Wrong Time Capsule–Deerhoof
16. Pretty Little Neighbor–Giant Drag
17. Bees–Caribou
18. The Runaround–The Sugarplastic
19. Lit Up–The National
20. Sixteen Military Wives–The Decemberists
21. Outnumbered–The Rosebuds
22. I Feel Like a Child–Devendra Banhart

First, I’ll get the popular one out of the way. There was a delay, the cause of which I’m not aware, in the release of the Michel Gondry video for Kanye West’s “Heard ‘Em Say” (mov). I didn’t really need more reason to anticipate this collaboration, but the strange circumstances behind its push-back only added to my expectations. I must say that the first time I watched it, I was underwhelmed–only because I didn’t get that feeling of wonder Gondry often inspires. After a few viewings, though, I’ve grown to like the clip–not enough to place it with his other greats, but it’s charming nonetheless.

My appreciation is thematic rather than technical–a few distinctly Gondrian elements make themselves known rather blatantly. First, his dreamy surrealism is all but gone, but replaced by a traditional holiday sentiment. The “dream” is no longer the trippy, abstruse version–now it’s the realized hopes of the underprivileged. Second, he’s always shown an appreciation for childish whimsy–expressed best in the DVD menu for his Directors’ Series collection–and this forms the essential foundation for “Heard ‘em Say”. Another video director could have given in to the drippy Capra-isms just waiting to be unearthed through the story of a security guard giving holiday shelter to a homeless family, but Gondry, to his credit, dispenses with messaging and allows the family to play. The best sequence involves the kids turning a bed into a car and getting “pulled over” by Adam Levine (no doubt exhausted from several days of Hanaukkah celebration himself). Avid Gondry-ites will recognize this bit of visual play from the “extras” portion of the Directors’ Series DVD, which shows Jim Carrey, probably on a break from filming Eternal Sunshine, driving a bed into a real-life gas station while imitaing Elvis. Some of the stop-motion animation and reversed sequences feel a bit phoned-in when placed against Gondry’s standards, but they work well in service of the larger theme of the Christmas spirit.

New York’s Versus have released some of the most solid indie rock of the past decade, but have apparently been shelved the past few years in for side-turned-main project +/-. The Baluyut brothers are retained, but the music is pared down and flecked with electronics, highlighting the rhythmic components. The video for “Steal the Blueprints” (mov) from new (currently only available in Japan) record Let’s Build a Fire works perfectly with the music, by co-opting what Gondry co-opted from video artists like Bill Viola–organic time transformations. Gondry is an accomplished drummer in his own right, evidenced by his brilliant video for “The Hardest Button to Button”, which keeps perfect time with Meg White’s thumping beats, in the process perfectly translating the aural to the visual. Gondry accomplished the feat in a way that makes itself obvious after several viewings of the video–by shooting the same scenes over and over with different arrangements of Jack and Meg and their instrumental props, and editing in military lockstep with the beat. In this video, +/- take a similar approach, one also accomplished by Spike Jones in the video for Weezer’s “Sweater Song” by simply having Baluyut mouth along to an extremely slowed-down version of the song. When sped up, it then gives the impression of the band (and I love the drummer’s appearances) being temporally isolated from the rest of the world. This technique, because of its obvious stylistic predecessors, has to be implemented perfectly with the music, and I’d offer that “Blueprints” succeeds on all counts.

Fresh from his hott #2 ranking on Dodge’s year-end best-of list, blog-tastic singer/songwriter Jose Gonzales offers up the first video from his new project Junip, for the song “Black Refuge” (mov). I got word for this from Robot Blair, who never manages to astound me with his appreciation of all manner of music that I happen to dig. This is a fantastic video, perfectly complementing the song’s barely contained darkness with interesting superimpositions, z-axis movement toward the viewer, and, of course, that rich bi-chromatic presentation. A little smoky ambience doesn’t hurt, either.

Next, fresh from their equally hott (and somewhat surprising) #2 ranking on Gorilla vs Bear’s year-end list, Sigur Ros’ adorable video for “Hoppipolla” (wmv stream). The album is a nice step toward mass acceptance from (), and the video is surprisingly accessible as well, in a less mawkish Waking Ned Devine sort of way.

Finally, I’d be disappointed in myself if I didn’t make mention of the video that most of you no doubt have seen already–for Kanye West’s “Heard ‘Em Say” (wmv stream). A quick recap–this video was released in lieu of a much more involved one from marathonpacks Hall of Fame inductee Michel Gondry. I’m thinking that there’s one reason for this–post-production is going way over on the Gondry piece, and this Bill Plympton vehicle was released as a hold-over to keep Kanye on the lists of holiday shoppers. Needless to say, this is far from Plympton’s best work–pretty disappointing, really, considering his stellar resume, including that “Your Face” piece that used to air between videos (!) on MTV.

Read an interview with Consequence at ballerstatus.net here.
Then, buy A Tribe Called Quence here.

2. Wilco-Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002, Nonesuch) (buy)
3. Wu-Tang Clan-The W (2000, Columbia) (buy)Initially disregarded by most because of the long post-Forever drought and the decision to scale back its grandeur for the batshit theatricality of 36 Chambers, The W is long overdue credit as a solid hip-hop record that rewards repeated listens. Sure, it’s all over the place, but when it hits, as on Raekwon’s stream-of-consciousness drug-game verse on “Hollow Bones,” irresistable club tracks “Protect Ya Neck,” “Gravel Pit, “Do You Really (Thang Thang),” and life-altering, genre-defying Ghostface/Isaac Hayes dirge “I Can’t Go to Sleep,” it’s unforgettable. Pot emerges more than ever (!) as Wu-Tang’s sixth man, and accordingly, tracks blend into one another, verses and entire songs start and stop erratically, and ODB (RIP) spits the immortal line “What a waste/I’m up in your face like ‘what!’”

4. New Pornographers-Mass Romantic* (2000, Mint) (buy)
5. OutKast-Stankonia (2000, LaFace) (buy)
6. Spoon-Kill the Moonlight (2002, Merge) (buy)
I drove in the dark 45 minutes from Greencastle to Bloomington, Indiana to buy this record. I waited until I got home to listen to it, lit some candles, and settled in. The robotic, almost motorized rhythms of “Small Stakes” jarred me into uneasiness and forced me to concentrate, which is what Spoon does better than any band around. Their sound is slightly off-kilter without becoming isolating, and their productions are meticulous. Kill the Moonlight was the perfect follow-up to attention-getting Girls Can Tell, stripping that record’s pure, joyous indie rock to its rhythmic essence. Kinks update “The Way We Get By” followed “Stakes,” as did the pummeling, cathartic “Jonathon Fisk” and the left-handed piano and drums one-two punch of “Someone Something” and “Don’t Let it Get You Down.” Moonlight finally established Britt Daniel as a remarkable songwriting force, able to synthesize influences without being derivitive and incorporate emotion and truly romantic yearing without mawkishness.

7. PJ Harvey-Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea
(2000, Island) (buy)
8. Radiohead-Kid A (2000, Capitol) (buy)
9. Constantines-Shine a Light (2003, Sub Pop) (buy)
I’m actually surprised that, after everything fell into place with this list, Shine A Light didn’t end up higher. One of the central criteria for inclusion and ranking here was “re-listenability,” and the Constantines’ second record has seemed to actually get better over time, instead of levelling out as most of the others on this list have. My favorite track from this album has switched more than any of the others; originally “Poison,” then the title track for a while, then “Young Lions,” and now “On to You.” The sound that Constantines create on this album is one of pure, loud dramatic inspiration.

10. Modest Mouse-The Moon and Antarctica (2000, Epic) (buy)
11. Belle and Sebastian-Fold Your Hands, Child, You Walk Like A Peasant (2000, Matador) (buy)
As has been written hundreds of times since its release, Fold Your Hands is far from Belle and Sebastian’s best work–in fact, it ranks 4th in my book, behind, well, their first three records. It’s spotty, indeed, but it also contains my all-time favorite B&S track, “Women’s Realm,” a soulful male/female tradeoff that explodes into a glorious string coda–the main reason for the high ranking of the album. The band has been known to experiment with genre, and its best work is that which disguises the seams between songs–something that didn’t happen here. But if Fold Your Hands doesn’t add up to more than the sum of its parts, those individual components are great–the delicate soul of “Don’t Leave the Light On, Baby,” the baroque flourishes and impressionistic lyricism of “The Model,” and the gently psychedelic Biblical overtones of “Beyond the Sunrise.” Uneven, yes, but, come on, it’s got “Women’s Realm!”

12. The Arcade Fire-Funeral (2004, Merge) (buy)
13. Deltron 3030-Deltron 3030* (2000, 75 Ark) (buy)
The concept was retarded, something to do with interplanetary rap battlers (Deltron Zero, The Cantankerous Captain Aptos and Skiznod the Boy, known on this planet as Del the Funkee Homosapien, Dan the Automator and Kid Koala) struggling against a dystopian corporate oligarchy, or something to that effect. But the execution was brilliant, allowing Del to once again showcase his virtuosic, run-to-the-dictionary non-stop flow over beats as nerdy as they were funky. It was the return of Parliament, only with Arthur C. Clarke replacing George Clinton: “Verbal war with weapons, installation/Blowin the star dust, distance twelve parsecs/Enthuse your phalanx with my literary talents/Just a bit of balance, rip the silence/in space, all-star systems are our victims/Atomics, anonymous with ominous/implications of information, or information, and entertainment/Cyber-tech dialect, you gotta earn my respect/I’m like Gamera to amateurs, hit em with a cannonball.” Still the best work any of the three has done.

14. Queens of the Stone Age-Rated R (2000, Interscope) (buy)
15. The Decemberists-Castaways and Cutouts* (2002, Kill Rock Stars) (buy)
16. Super Furry Animals-Phantom Power (2003, XL) (buy)
17. Of Montreal-Satanic Panic in the Attic (2004, PolyVinyl) (buy)
Prior to Satanic Panic in the Attic, I knew about Of Montreal, but chalked them (or him, really) up to an Elephant 6 also-ran–able to craft a catchy melody, but slowed by sketchy ideas that never seemed to fully flourish. Aldhills Arboretum was always on the verge of being recommendable for me, and I played it enough trying to make it work, but I couldn’t figure out exactly why it wouldn’t. Then I bought Satanic Panic on a scorching summer day, and everything clicked. Kevin Barnes finally, and fully, allowed electronics (analog synths, handclaps) to sharpen his sound without losing the neo-psychedelic gleam, and allowed many of his songs to follow a disjointed, suite-like structure that caused the listener to forget at the end where the song started–the “heart attack on the dance floor” ending to “My British Tour Diary,” and especially the Polyphonic Spree/Langley School children’s choir at the close of standout “Lysergic Bliss.” I didn’t take it out of my car until November.

18. Blackalicious-Blazing Arrow (2002, MCA) (buy)
19. Blonde Redhead-Misery is a Butterfly (2004, 4AD) (buy)
20. Kanye West-The College Dropout* (2004, Roc-A-Fella) (buy)
21. The Shins-Chutes too Narrow (2003, Sub Pop) (buy)
22. Ted Leo and the Pharmacists-The Tyranny of Distance
(2002, Lookout!) (buy)
23. Dandy Warhols-Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia
(2000, Capitol) (buy)
This one surprised me. The Dandy Warhols are perenially flogged, especially post “DiG,” for being poseurs who co-opt ideas, sounds, looks, and styles that took the progenitors entire careers to establish. True. But here, they do it really well, if for the only time. Opener “Godless” steals its guitar from George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord,” but makes up for it with a great Eric Matthews trumpet part. Single “Bohemian Like You” could be arrested for posing as mid-period Rolling Stones, but it’s so damn catchy, you forget about authenticity. The constant drug references get old quickly, as does the freshman year existentialism, but when an album’s liner notes consist of a picture collage of the band, who are clearly very good friends, partying, it’s time to dispense with the arch criticism and listen to the hooks, which this record has plenty of.

24. Ween-White Pepper (2000, Elektra) (buy)
It often gets lost in the frequent mentions about their seeming failure to take their music seriously, but Ween is a great band. Their knack for goofiness aside, these guys have mastered genre and can write an effective song in nearly any style, demonstrated on White Pepper. In order: “Exactly Where I’m At” and “Flutes of Chi” (psych-pop), “Even if you Don’t” (piano-based traditional pop), “Bananas and Blow” (Jimmy Buffett), “Stroker Ace” (hardcore), “Ice Castles” (New Age instrumental), “Back to Basom” and “The Grobe” (prog), “Pandy Fackler” (elevator/lounge pop), “Stay Forever” (light rock), and “Falling Out” (country-rock).

25. Spoon-Girls Can Tell (2000, Merge) (buy)
26. Enon-High Society (2002, Touch and Go) (buy)
27. Stereolab-Sound-Dust (2001, Elektra) (buy)
28. My Morning Jacket-It Still Moves (2003, ATO/RCA) (buy)
29. Dismemberment Plan-Change (2001, DeSoto) (buy)
30. Self-Gizmodgery (2000, Spongebath) (buy)
Almost as a rule, I don’t like instrumental gimmickry. Conceptual gimmickry, sure (see number 13), but when I heard that Self’s Matt Mahaffey had recorded an entire album using nothing but children’s toy instruments, I was determined to hate it. Until I heard it. And really liked it. Without the copious liner notes (which listed every toy instrument used), I would have assumed nothing had changed from his previous release (on Dreamworks) Breakfast With Girls–the production work and attention to detail was that thorough. And you can’t make an album with toys without a sense of humor, and “Trunk Fulla Amps” brings it, riffing on songs incorporating the word “mother” to hilarious effect. The cover of the Doobie Brothers’ “What a Fool Believes” strips the original of its layers of gloss, leaving the sentiment intact, and, one could argue, more potent. The rest of the record offers bright, quirky pop (”5 Alive,” especially) and slinky white-boy funk that conjures memories of a childhood spent no doubt tinkering with the same “instruments.”

31. Interpol-Turn on the Bright Lights* (2002, Matador) (buy)
32. New Pornographers-Electric Version (2003, Matador) (buy)
33. Radiohead-Hail to the Thief (2003, Capitol) (buy)
34. The Twilight Singers-Twilight as Played By the Twilight Singers
(2000, Sony) (buy)
35. Badly Drawn Boy-The Hour of Bewilderbeast*
(2000, Twisted Nerve/XL) (buy)
36. Grandaddy-Sumday (2003, V2) (buy)
37. The Beta Band-Hot Shots II (2001, Astralwerks) (buy)
38. Jurassic 5-Quality Control (2000, Interscope) (buy)
39. Super Furry Animals-Rings Around the World (2001, Epic) (buy)
A rather drastic change of sound for the band from Radiator, Rings saw the Super Furries shack up with High Llama and Sean O’Hagan to create a lush, dramatic piece of pop art. What most had come to recognize as the SFA sound was still present, in the hyperkinetic wordplay of the title track, single “Juxtapozed with U,” and “Sidewalk Serfer Girl,” but was buffered on all sides by extended ELO-influenced “Presidential Suite,” “Run Christian Run,” “No Sympathy,” “Shoot Doris Day,” and album opener “Alternate Route to Vulcan Street.” The unquestionable highlight of the album, however is the song-suite “Receptacle for the Respectable,” ostensibly an ode to a certian zaftig bethonged intern from an American administration past. Beginning in an uptempo acoustic frame, the song segues three times, first into a slower, layered section, alternating falsetto “tell me” with Gruff Rhys’ angelic chanting, then to an even slower 20/20 era Beach Boys singalong section, then, gradually, buoyed by Rhys’ elastic/satanic voice, into a torrential metal finish, which I once witnessed them perform live, flawlessly.

40. Gorillaz-Gorillaz* (2001, Virgin) (buy)

*=debut album

However, West’s words rang truer than any I’ve heard yet. Coming from a man many consider to be the new popular face of hip-hop, his flustered delivery and affecting sense of naivete when, without blinking, saying the words “President Bush doesn’t care about black people” is, more than anything offered by any well-intentioned celebrity burdened by a publicist, “keeping it real.”

Many critics of West’s music, both 2004’s flawed masterpiece The College Dropout and this year’s universally acclaimed Late Registration, cite as his central flaw his lyrical delivery, which tends to shift focus from his genre-defining beats and singular production skills. Indeed, his lyrics come across as incredibly raw and, as West himself defines it, “self-conscious”.

Which is why his give and take with a stoic Mike Myers on Friday night was not surprising, but in keeping with what has become West’s stock in trade: an almost childlike honesty.  Whether referencing his nearly life-ending car accident (”I had an accident like Geico/They thought I was burnt up like Pepsi did Michael”) or passive-agressively accusing in his latest single, “I ain’t sayin’ she a golddigger/But she ain’t messin’ with no broke nigga,” Kanye’s lyrics are the product not of an adolescence spent hustling or four years spent in college, but of an unblocked unconscious.

And while his words exit his mouth tangled and hard to follow, presented in gulps as he chokes back tears, they are real. Desperate, unadorned, truth. Time Magazine, in a recent cover article, noted that you “can’t ignore Kanye.” Right now, I hope that’s true. Thank you, Kanye West.

The banner at the top of this post was created and is being distributed by musical artist and blogger John Darnielle (Mountain Goats). Obtain one at: Last Plane to Jakarta.

Donate to the Red Cross here.
Grab Kanye’s entire spiel here.

1. The Decemberists “16 Military Wives“–At a typically fantastic concert here in Bloomington, after the loud-mouthed drummer made a rude comment about the quality of a locally-owned restaurant’s food (which they got for free), Colin Meloy smoothly segued into the introduction “America is serving the world burnt pancakes,” then into this, the only artful anti-war song released this year.
2. Bloc Party “Banquet“–Take the drums, for instance. An more hyper version of Blondie’s “Atomic” fills its way toward the best staccato rhythm since, well, “Take Me Out.” The Colonel Blimp video is “hands-down” great, too.
3. Gorillaz “Dare“–My girlfriend loves this song–she says it sounds slow–like the batteries are running out. Probably has something to do with Shawn Ryder.
4. Spoon “I Turn My Camera On”–Gimme Fiction’s answer to Kill the Moonlight’s “Stay Don’t Go,” Girls Can Tell’s “Everything Hits at Once,” and Series of Sneaks‘ “Metal Detektor”–a distinctly singular, slightly unnerving, and instantly memorable track that manages to poke its head out from the others.
5. Architecture in Helsinki “Do the Whirlwind“–This half-year’s “Kitchen Sink” award for most disparate pallette of sounds tossed skillfully into a song. It’s Aborigi-neat!
6. Robert Pollard “Dancing Girls and Dancing Men”–Technically, From a Compound Eye still doesn’t have a release date, but this gem stands up to recent GBV tracks “Glad Girls,” “Back to the Lake” and “Useless Inventions” in terms of unrelenting rhythm.
7. Black Mountain “Modern Music“–Barely edges out “No Satisfaction,” and finishes second to “Whirlwind” in the “least intrusive use of saxophone” category.
8. Fiery Furnaces “Here Comes the Summer“–The Voicebox! It’s back! 4 on the floor! It’s back!
9. LCD Soundsystem “Movement“–”Without the bother/Of all of the meaning”
10. Of Montreal “So Begins Our Alabee“–Another irresistably jaunty plea for companionship, like last year’s #1 single “Disconnect the Dots.” Once it begins, it can’t get back to that chorus quickly enough, and thank goodness for that. And NPR did a story.

And, just to keep with tradition, here’s last years list (expanded to 20):

1. Of Montreal “Disconnect the Dots“
2. Belle and Sebastian “Your Cover’s Blown”–And here I thought there was nothing more to do with a Doobie Brothers riff.
3. The French Kicks “One More Time”–The hippest song of the year, perfect for a weekend bar-hopping montage.
4. Kanye West “Through the Wire”–I found myself incessantly repeating the verse, “He must got an angel/’Cause look how death missed his ass/Unbreakable/What you thought they call me Mr. Glass?”
5. Air “Alpha Beta Gaga“–This year’s “Kitchen Sink” award-winner. Sounds like a commercial theme promoting a factory that makes clouds.
6. Blonde Redhead “Equus”–It doesn’t necessarily fit in with the rest of the album (especially the slick first 33 seconds). Which means it’s a perfect first single, perfectly placed at the end of the album.
7. Animal Collective “Leaf House”–So that’s where Bobby McFerrin went!
8. RJD2 “1976“–Anyone who properly puts Latin horns over a hip-hop beat is aces with me. Cypress Hill, I’m looking in your direction…
9. Arcade Fire “Une Annee Sans Lumiere”–The most evocative song on a remarkable album–this year’s best conceptual piece.
10. The Walkmen “The Rat“–The simplest, most appropriate, and best video of the year.
11. The Futureheads “Carnival Kids”–The best punk single of the year, evoking a young Paul Weller.
12. Franz Ferdinand “Take Me Out”–The second best punk single, evoking a young Franz Ferdinand.
13. The Hidden Cameras “Doot Doot Ploot”--A very guilty kitschy pleasure, one with which I constantly annoyed friends by repeating ad nauseum, calling them homophobic if they didn’t sing along.
14. Secret Machines “Nowhere Again“–That “David Watts” rhythm gets me every time.
15. Scissor Sisters “Take Your Mama Out“–See #13.
16. The Go! Team “Ladyflash”–First listen, magnificent! Tenth listen, magnif! Twentieth listen, mag…two minutes too long. Fortieth listen, #16 of 2004.
17. Cornershop “Topknot“–Largely unnoticed British 7″, that thankfully reverts back to the infinitely more in(dian)teresting.
18. Dios “Starting Five“–The sounds of children playing, a lightly strummed acoustic guitar, a shaker and tambourine, and, of course, the wordless falsetto “Oooh oooh oooh” of the chorus.
19. 50 Foot Wave “Bug“–Kristen Hersh gets laryngitis screaming like Marianne Faithfull chasing a mugger.
20. The Helio Sequence “Everyone Knows Everyone“–The best Beta Band track of the year. ]]> http://www.marathonpacks.com/2005/07/top-10-singles-so-far/feed/ 1 http://www.marathonpacks.com/2005/07/top-10-so-far/ http://www.marathonpacks.com/2005/07/top-10-so-far/#comments Mon, 11 Jul 2005 16:24:00 +0000 marathonpacks http://174.132.200.226/~marathon/mpax/2005/07/top-10-so-far.html At the halfway point (or a little after), I thought I’d issue my halftime top ten (then I saw the stalwart largeheartedboy’s own version–I swear I had this almost done last week). Anyhoo, here goes:

Spoon Gimme Fiction–A remarkable work from the most iconoclastic songwriter around today. A longer piece on this album will come soon. (“I Turn My Camera On”)

LCD Soundsystem S/T–James Murphy establishes himself as the most prominent “post-hipster,” offering a concept album that name-drops as much as “Losing My Edge,” but this time by showing, not telling. “Too Much Love” is note for note ESG, “Movement” continues with the Mark E. Smith-uh, “Never as Tired As When I’m Waking Up” is vintage White Album and later John Lennon, “Thrills” is Liquid Liquid, and album closer “Great Release” is a mash up of Suicide and Brian Eno. It’s an obnoxiously deliberate but ultimately addictive album. (Video for “Movement”)

The Decemberists Picaresque–In which the Decemberists join the pantheon of hyper-literate bands (REM, The Smiths, They Might be Giants, Neutral Milk Hotel) that hipsters and the high school debate team can agree on. Plus, “Sixteen Military Wives” is the best single yet this year. Check out the video.

Black Mountain S/T–Spare, post-VU Canadian psych-rock. Somehow ended up opening for Coldplay.

The New Pornographers Twin Cinema–Still new–will probably move northward with time. “Sing Me Spanish Techno” is eminently repeatable.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah S/T–Still new as well–why has no one mentioned the (to me, obvious) vocal references to Tom Verlaine? The Talking Heads-meets-Modest Mouse is obvious (and glorious). Music for Robots had a great review.

British Sea Power Open Season–Coldplay for those who like good music. Their video was actually banned from MTV. I refuse to say anything else on this subject.
The Fiery Furnaces EP–The best 1-5 track run so far this year. Lost points because “Tropical Iceland” was on a CMJ comp last year. Their site is Flashy-cool!

Of Montreal The Sunlandic Twins–Fallen a bit from “Satanic Panic,” but still the 2nd best psych-pop band around. Check out “Requiem for O.M.M. 2”

Weird War Illuminated by the Light–Immediately likeable and overlooked “super”group (Make-Up and Royal Trux)–The first track “Illuminated” (video) is the best T. Rex impression since Supergrass’ “Seen the Light.”

And, for reference, here’s last year’s list:

Of Montreal Satanic Panic in the Attic–Kevin Barnes goes full-synth and collages together his first complete album. “Disconnect the Dots” is the best single of the year.

Blonde Redhead Misery is a Butterfly–Massive difference from previous efforts–replaced the Cocteau Twins as best rep for the 4AD “sound.” Plus, the video for “Equus” reminds my girlfriend of Kienholz.

Kanye West The College Dropout–Apart from the magnificent production, the best Marvin Gaye-ish angel/devil dichotomy since Common’s Like Water for Chocolate. Something ’bout Chicago.

Arcade Fire Funeral–I’m just trying to fit in with everyone else here.

The Walkmen Bows and Arrows–An updated Jonathan Fire*Eater, which is fine. Blew the Strokes away in concert.

Modest Mouse Good News for People Who Love Bad News–Who’s this new band?

90 Day Men Panda Park–Another massive leap toward accessibility (see #2) from their spazzy mathy early work. The opening track is transcendent.

Stereolab Margerine Eclipse–Pass the Ketchup.

Wilco A Ghost is Born–A great, experimental-but-modest follow-up to one of the best rock albums–ever.

Franz Ferdinand S/T–Really, though, Gang of Four needs to hire a lawyer. This isn’t going to stop.

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