dsmith2904
ONE love, blood, life
A Year to Bid "Welcome" and "Goodbye"
BY TOM MOON
Philadelphia Inquirer
Pop year 2004 will be remembered for more than just its musical moments - there was, of course, the Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction, her brother's ongoing legal circus, and variations on the theme of career-inconveniencing (or -enhancing) incarceration rapped out by Beanie Sigel and Shyne, among others.
It was the year of that classic Terror Squad/Fat Joe instructional dance song "Lean Back," the overlapping reigns of Usher and Nelly, the first of (we can hope) many volumes of Bob Dylan's Chronicles, his fast-paced, chronology-challenged reflection in prose. It was the year Prince, who never really went away, got to have a comeback, and reminded everyone how thrilling plain old musicianship can be.
In new-artist news, after the unconventional rock pulses and looped delirium of Brooklyn's TV on the Radio, the field was heavy with traditionalists: The too-clever Nellie McKay made her introduction with an intermittently brilliant set of novelty show tunes and shimmering pop, the two-disc Get Away from Me. Meanwhile, Brit ruffian Jamie Cullum charmed the world with cheeky treatments of standards and, not incidentally, the year's most gorgeous love song, an original called "All at Sea."
Of course, it was the year Ashlee Simpson started out trying to be a credible "artist," only to crumble after a technical snafu on Saturday Night Live; compounding the error, she blamed her band. It was the year the iPod became ubiquitous and satellite radio started to look appealing. It was the year Phish, that great jamming juggernaut, reached the end of its road. It was the year we lost Ray Charles. It was also a year that yielded works of inspired music-making:
The Black Keys: Rubber Factory (Fat Possum). Which flavor of retro rock rang the bell for you this year? The spritzy '80s synth sheen of Franz Ferdinand? The manic shouts of the Hives' Tyrannosaurus Hives? The swagger of Silvertide? The one act that sounded the most possessed by its heroes, the Ohio duo known as the Black Keys, also did the most to get beyond imitation. Rubber Factory is 50 minutes of pure fuzzbox glee, an aria of distorted guitar riffage that starts in the Delta, gathers Hendrixian steam somewhere over London, and winds up in a cluttered Akron garage where nothing about the blues is sacred anymore. Recommended download: "10 a.m. Automatic."
The Roots: The Tipping Point (Geffen). In terms of the unstoppable steamrolling intensity of a locked-up rhythm section at work, no band even got close to the Roots this year. With The Tipping Point, the Roots blasted away ornate studio fussiness in favor of a pure visceral whomp to the midsection. Rapper Black Thought brought rhymes that mirrored the sharpness and newfound agitation of the music. When everything kicked into high gear - see "I Don't Care," "Boom!," "Stay Cool" - this was Thinking Person's backbeat music, with a radical bent. Download: "I Don't Care."
Jill Scott: Beautifully Human, Words and Sounds Vol. 2 (Hidden Beach / A Touch of Jazz Inc.). Words and sounds and powerful thoughts, too, in configurations that prove no matter how manipulative pop music gets, there is always room for some truth. Positioning herself more as cultural commentator than commodified star, Philadelphia's own delivered the year's most addictive affirmation ("Living my life like it's golden") with a mix of headstrong determination and jazz vivacity that made striving in that direction the only reasonable thing to do. Download: "Golden."
Elliott Smith: From A Basement On the Hill (Anti). It takes a minute to get over the posthumous creepiness and sadness that suffuses this project, culled from material Smith worked on during the years leading up to his 2003 death, an apparent suicide. Once you do, however, you discover vaguely disconsolate airborne melodies, vulnerable appraisals of Smith's mental state grafted onto guitar rock of uncharacteristic savagery, and little feats of song-structure invention (the Beatlesque "A Passing Feeling") so perfectly constructed they can float by unnoticed. It's Smith's mastery of form we'll miss the most: Nobody in the post-Cobain world packed such intricate musical detail, and finely wrought emotional shadings, into three-minute songs. Download: "A Passing Feeling."
TV on the Radio: Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes (Touch & Go). It has been a while since the basic vocabulary of alternative rock expanded in any meaningful way. This zesty loop-fest accomplishes that, using strategies associated with electronic pop while managing to avoid its sterility. The songs are loosely structured, laced with doo-wop refrains and engaging polyrhythms, and they deal with racial stereotypes and misplaced teen angst. Good news for those who like this acquired taste: The band's new EP, New Health Rock, displays further growth. Download: "The Wrong Way."
U2: How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb (Interscope). Watching those inescapable Apple iPod ads, there was reason to fear that U2 was letting marketing overtake the music again: After all, in 2000 the Irish foursome squawked about how its contrived, deeply flawed All That You Can't Leave Behind marked a "return" to rock-and-roll. False advertising! At least this new record actually kicks up a fuss. It also catches the heroic Bono, away from his crusades, being humble ("Crumbs From Your Table"). But the best indication that U2 isn't coasting comes on "A Man and a Woman," a sullen pop gem with interesting chord changes (rare in the U2 canon) that deserves every bit of the exposure "Vertigo" got. Download: "A Man and a Woman."
Tom Waits: Real Gone (Anti). Worth it just for the harrowing full-spectrum roar that is the vocal on "Hoist That Rag." Worth it for the most trenchant antiwar song of what was, for a minute, anyway, in late summer, a crowded field - the soldier's letter home "Day After Tomorrow." Worth it for the hinky jerk and scrapheap clatter of "The Metropolitan Glide," and the Howlin' Wolf moan that drives "Trampled Rose." Next to these haunted realms, most contemporary songwriting has all the dimension of a third-grade grammar workbook. Download: "Trampled Rose."
Kanye West: The College Dropout (Roc-A-Fella). Hip-hop has never had a character quite like Kanye West, whose skills at beat-mangling are matched by a wicked sense of humor and an instantly recognizable, if slightly gawky, delivery. After making tracks for the hip-hop elite (Jay-Z et al.), the Chicagoan repurposed enduring gospel refrains and pop touchstones - Chaka Khan's "Through the Fire" gets sped up and spun around for West's account of a nasty car wreck, "Through The Wire" - into music that's more rousing and spirit-minded than just about anything else on hip-hop radio. Download: "Through the Wire."
Wilco: A Ghost Is Born (Nonesuch). This year, Jeff Tweedy made friends with dissonance. The Wilco auteur got himself tangled up in a thicket of musical abrasion, and warmed to the idea that his caustic tales could be accompanied not by everyday strumming, but by a phantasmic enveloping roar. One of the many pleasures of A Ghost Is Born is hearing Tweedy deciding how long dissonance gets to drive. Every track represents a different reckoning of the same equation, and while the music isn't exactly accessible, it's thrilling to hear an ensemble taking such massive reckless swings, and allowing themselves to be awed, and more than a little psyched-out, by the results. Download: "At Least That's What You Said."
Brian Wilson: Brian Wilson Presents SMiLE (Nonesuch). Don't spend a minute wondering whether this unfrozen work should even be eligible for best-of consideration. Sure, it was written and abandoned 30-whatever years ago, and its core material has been available, via bootleg, ever since. But Brian Wilson did more than merely dust off the scores: He and his worshippers in the Wondermints wove themes and counterlines (the chiming recurring tag of "Heroes and Villains") deep into the fabric of the piece, and executed standalone gems such as "Surf's Up" in ways that reflected - and enhanced - the spirit of the whole. Just the chance to hear Wilson's song-cycle in sequence makes it newsworthy; its lavish details and pure shimmering beauty make it the rare pop work that has undeniable historical significance. Download: "Surf's Up."
Honorable mentions: Elvis Costello, The Delivery Man; Norah Jones, Feels Like Home; the Hives, Tyrannosaurus Hives; Loretta Lynn, Van Lear Rose; Iron and Wine, Our Endless Numbered Days; Prince, Musicology; Juana Molina, Tres Cosas; Usher, Confessions; Jessie Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter, Oh, My Girl; and Nellie McKay, Get Away from Me.
BY TOM MOON
Philadelphia Inquirer
Pop year 2004 will be remembered for more than just its musical moments - there was, of course, the Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction, her brother's ongoing legal circus, and variations on the theme of career-inconveniencing (or -enhancing) incarceration rapped out by Beanie Sigel and Shyne, among others.
It was the year of that classic Terror Squad/Fat Joe instructional dance song "Lean Back," the overlapping reigns of Usher and Nelly, the first of (we can hope) many volumes of Bob Dylan's Chronicles, his fast-paced, chronology-challenged reflection in prose. It was the year Prince, who never really went away, got to have a comeback, and reminded everyone how thrilling plain old musicianship can be.
In new-artist news, after the unconventional rock pulses and looped delirium of Brooklyn's TV on the Radio, the field was heavy with traditionalists: The too-clever Nellie McKay made her introduction with an intermittently brilliant set of novelty show tunes and shimmering pop, the two-disc Get Away from Me. Meanwhile, Brit ruffian Jamie Cullum charmed the world with cheeky treatments of standards and, not incidentally, the year's most gorgeous love song, an original called "All at Sea."
Of course, it was the year Ashlee Simpson started out trying to be a credible "artist," only to crumble after a technical snafu on Saturday Night Live; compounding the error, she blamed her band. It was the year the iPod became ubiquitous and satellite radio started to look appealing. It was the year Phish, that great jamming juggernaut, reached the end of its road. It was the year we lost Ray Charles. It was also a year that yielded works of inspired music-making:
The Black Keys: Rubber Factory (Fat Possum). Which flavor of retro rock rang the bell for you this year? The spritzy '80s synth sheen of Franz Ferdinand? The manic shouts of the Hives' Tyrannosaurus Hives? The swagger of Silvertide? The one act that sounded the most possessed by its heroes, the Ohio duo known as the Black Keys, also did the most to get beyond imitation. Rubber Factory is 50 minutes of pure fuzzbox glee, an aria of distorted guitar riffage that starts in the Delta, gathers Hendrixian steam somewhere over London, and winds up in a cluttered Akron garage where nothing about the blues is sacred anymore. Recommended download: "10 a.m. Automatic."
The Roots: The Tipping Point (Geffen). In terms of the unstoppable steamrolling intensity of a locked-up rhythm section at work, no band even got close to the Roots this year. With The Tipping Point, the Roots blasted away ornate studio fussiness in favor of a pure visceral whomp to the midsection. Rapper Black Thought brought rhymes that mirrored the sharpness and newfound agitation of the music. When everything kicked into high gear - see "I Don't Care," "Boom!," "Stay Cool" - this was Thinking Person's backbeat music, with a radical bent. Download: "I Don't Care."
Jill Scott: Beautifully Human, Words and Sounds Vol. 2 (Hidden Beach / A Touch of Jazz Inc.). Words and sounds and powerful thoughts, too, in configurations that prove no matter how manipulative pop music gets, there is always room for some truth. Positioning herself more as cultural commentator than commodified star, Philadelphia's own delivered the year's most addictive affirmation ("Living my life like it's golden") with a mix of headstrong determination and jazz vivacity that made striving in that direction the only reasonable thing to do. Download: "Golden."
Elliott Smith: From A Basement On the Hill (Anti). It takes a minute to get over the posthumous creepiness and sadness that suffuses this project, culled from material Smith worked on during the years leading up to his 2003 death, an apparent suicide. Once you do, however, you discover vaguely disconsolate airborne melodies, vulnerable appraisals of Smith's mental state grafted onto guitar rock of uncharacteristic savagery, and little feats of song-structure invention (the Beatlesque "A Passing Feeling") so perfectly constructed they can float by unnoticed. It's Smith's mastery of form we'll miss the most: Nobody in the post-Cobain world packed such intricate musical detail, and finely wrought emotional shadings, into three-minute songs. Download: "A Passing Feeling."
TV on the Radio: Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes (Touch & Go). It has been a while since the basic vocabulary of alternative rock expanded in any meaningful way. This zesty loop-fest accomplishes that, using strategies associated with electronic pop while managing to avoid its sterility. The songs are loosely structured, laced with doo-wop refrains and engaging polyrhythms, and they deal with racial stereotypes and misplaced teen angst. Good news for those who like this acquired taste: The band's new EP, New Health Rock, displays further growth. Download: "The Wrong Way."
U2: How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb (Interscope). Watching those inescapable Apple iPod ads, there was reason to fear that U2 was letting marketing overtake the music again: After all, in 2000 the Irish foursome squawked about how its contrived, deeply flawed All That You Can't Leave Behind marked a "return" to rock-and-roll. False advertising! At least this new record actually kicks up a fuss. It also catches the heroic Bono, away from his crusades, being humble ("Crumbs From Your Table"). But the best indication that U2 isn't coasting comes on "A Man and a Woman," a sullen pop gem with interesting chord changes (rare in the U2 canon) that deserves every bit of the exposure "Vertigo" got. Download: "A Man and a Woman."
Tom Waits: Real Gone (Anti). Worth it just for the harrowing full-spectrum roar that is the vocal on "Hoist That Rag." Worth it for the most trenchant antiwar song of what was, for a minute, anyway, in late summer, a crowded field - the soldier's letter home "Day After Tomorrow." Worth it for the hinky jerk and scrapheap clatter of "The Metropolitan Glide," and the Howlin' Wolf moan that drives "Trampled Rose." Next to these haunted realms, most contemporary songwriting has all the dimension of a third-grade grammar workbook. Download: "Trampled Rose."
Kanye West: The College Dropout (Roc-A-Fella). Hip-hop has never had a character quite like Kanye West, whose skills at beat-mangling are matched by a wicked sense of humor and an instantly recognizable, if slightly gawky, delivery. After making tracks for the hip-hop elite (Jay-Z et al.), the Chicagoan repurposed enduring gospel refrains and pop touchstones - Chaka Khan's "Through the Fire" gets sped up and spun around for West's account of a nasty car wreck, "Through The Wire" - into music that's more rousing and spirit-minded than just about anything else on hip-hop radio. Download: "Through the Wire."
Wilco: A Ghost Is Born (Nonesuch). This year, Jeff Tweedy made friends with dissonance. The Wilco auteur got himself tangled up in a thicket of musical abrasion, and warmed to the idea that his caustic tales could be accompanied not by everyday strumming, but by a phantasmic enveloping roar. One of the many pleasures of A Ghost Is Born is hearing Tweedy deciding how long dissonance gets to drive. Every track represents a different reckoning of the same equation, and while the music isn't exactly accessible, it's thrilling to hear an ensemble taking such massive reckless swings, and allowing themselves to be awed, and more than a little psyched-out, by the results. Download: "At Least That's What You Said."
Brian Wilson: Brian Wilson Presents SMiLE (Nonesuch). Don't spend a minute wondering whether this unfrozen work should even be eligible for best-of consideration. Sure, it was written and abandoned 30-whatever years ago, and its core material has been available, via bootleg, ever since. But Brian Wilson did more than merely dust off the scores: He and his worshippers in the Wondermints wove themes and counterlines (the chiming recurring tag of "Heroes and Villains") deep into the fabric of the piece, and executed standalone gems such as "Surf's Up" in ways that reflected - and enhanced - the spirit of the whole. Just the chance to hear Wilson's song-cycle in sequence makes it newsworthy; its lavish details and pure shimmering beauty make it the rare pop work that has undeniable historical significance. Download: "Surf's Up."
Honorable mentions: Elvis Costello, The Delivery Man; Norah Jones, Feels Like Home; the Hives, Tyrannosaurus Hives; Loretta Lynn, Van Lear Rose; Iron and Wine, Our Endless Numbered Days; Prince, Musicology; Juana Molina, Tres Cosas; Usher, Confessions; Jessie Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter, Oh, My Girl; and Nellie McKay, Get Away from Me.
