December 25-31, 2003

music

The Top 20 Rock/Pop/Hip-Hop CDs of 2003

The Postal Service

Give Up

(SUB POP)

When Death Cab For Cutie's Ben Gibbard teamed up with Dntel's Jimmy Tamborello for "(This is) The Dream of Evan and Chan" on the Dntel full-length Life Is Full of Possibilities, the song had that tip-of-an-iceberg feel. The one-off track blossomed into The Postal Service (so named because the duo traded ideas via mail). Give Up is a collection of the sort of painfully attuned songs Gibbard's known for, set to the chilled, staticky, soft-core/glitch-core electronica Tamborello's been busy mining for the last decade -- sonically fresh and deftly composed. Gibbard's breakup duet with Jen Wood on "Nothing Better" is choreographed with the precision of a Rogers/Astaire number. "We Will Become Silhouettes" is a whip-smart synth-pop treatise on existentialism. The exuberantly optimistic "Such Great Heights" percolates atop broken beats and synthetic handclaps. It's the sound of two minds and two genres giving each other a leg up. As indie rock records go, Give Up was a full-fledged sensation, receiving commercial airplay in places as far-flung as San Francisco, Boston, D.C., Ohio and Vermont, and spawning two CD singles featuring covers (by The Shins and Iron & Wine) and remixes (by DJ Downfall and John Tejada). Give Up came out of nowhere, capturing hearts and imaginations in the process.--Brian Howard

OutKast

Speakerboxx/ The Love Below

(ARISTA/ LAFACE)

Forget the serious madonna/whore complex, the goofy interludes or the ill-considered breakbeat version of "My Favorite Things." Their talents distilled into two halves, Big Boi and Andre 3000 came up with a double album that, track for track, offers more consistent rewards than most greatest hits box sets. Big Boi reinvented hip-hop by one-upping himself on Speakerboxxx, upgrading the pimping boasts of "So Fresh So Clean" with the horns and struts of "Bowtie" and recasting the cautionary narrative "West Savannah" into the crueler fable "Knowing." Disassociating himself from hip-hop altogether, Andre 3000 delivered a whimsical, embittered paean to romantic abandonment, afloat in jazz piano, wa-wa pedals and sexed-up falsetto. The Love Below has also delivered one of the oddest singles in recent memory: That the caustic pop ditty "Hey Ya!" has found a home on R&B/hip-hop radio while The Roots' "The Seed" was banished to the alt-rock ghetto speaks to OutKast's boundless influence and appeal. Collectively, S/TLB asserts the astounding creativity of a group that is -- we are assured again and again -- only temporarily divided and still weird as they wanna be. Indeed, cynicism has never been this funky; pathos has never been more danceable. And for that we have to say amen er, a-lady.--Elisa Ludwig

The White Stripes

Elephant

(V2)

2003 was the government-mandated Year of the Blues, which meant a bunch of museum exhibits popped up and Martin Scorsese had to executive-produce nine made-for-PBS movies. But The White Stripes -- who in recent years faced canonization just for knowing who Son House was -- didn't get the memo, and hooray for that. With the exception of "Ball and Biscuit," a seven-minute original most assuredly of Delta Blues blood, Elephant is a rock album set in the now. They play it loud and strange ("The Hardest Button to Button," "Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine"), slow and warm ("In the Cold, Cold Night," "You've Got Her in Your Pocket") and flat-out goofy ("It's True That We Love One Another," "Little Acorns"). Everybody who thought they had the Stripes figured out better take a step back. I mean, look, Jack put on a black T-shirt! Scrutinized and dissected, he and Meg found a way to play to their strengths and even grow a little. Be like the squirrel, kids, be like the squirrel.--Patrick Rapa

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists

Hearts of Oak

(LOOKOUT)

He's said it best himself: "I consider myself a perpetual English major, but I also get into bar fights." It's just that symbiotic dichotomy that makes Ted Leo one of most innovative rock 'n' roll songwriters out there. There's no dearth of literate rockers, to be sure, but the young ones are morose bores. Leo, even though he's been around the indie rock block and back again, hasn't forgotten to have fun. Hearts of Oak fuses musical diversity with witty, politically charged wordplay and yearning vocals. Case in point, the travel diary that is "The Ballad of the Sin Eater," in which Leo manages to mention Ibiza, Damascus, Belfast, Kigali and Sierra Leone in a five-minute rock song with a killer bassline. Make no mistake: Not once does this album turn pretentious and not once does it fail to make you dance.--Lori Hill

50 Cent

Get Rich or Die Tryin'

(SHADY/ INTERSCOPE)

In between clothes manufacturers (from sneakers to bulletproof vests), mix-tape bootleggers (check eBay for street-mix box sets) and feuds with Ja Rule (who?), 50 Cent made himself 2003's most vital artist. He lent sexy menace to Lil' Kim. He added grim religiosity to G Unit's reunion. Get Rich, produced by Eminem, is sinister, way catchy gangster-hop-lite that makes pimping and clubbing blasé and businesslike. He's not so much de-glorifying rap's notoriously big ways of maintaining street cred, but, rather, portraying a realistic, world-weary disgust worthy of Death of a Salesman.--A.D. Amorosi

The Shins

Chutes Too Narrow

(SUB POP)

Head Shin James Mercer and company sidestepped the sophomore slump with the power-popping Chutes Too Narrow, making things look easy in the process. Bursting with angular guitar riffs and sidelong lyrics delivered with panache, Chutes feels like a bit of gamesmanship, as if Mercer is the sort of disaffected genius who could write the labyrinthine "So Says I" or the perky, pesky "Fighting in a Sack" in his sleep. It's not until Mercer delivers the singular sentiment, "Since then it's been a book you read in reverse, so you understand less as the pages turn," in "Pink Bullets" that you realize he's living the same life we're all living; he just relates it a lot better.--B.H.

Death Cab for Cutie

Transatlanticism

(BARSUK)

Call it the kickoff of round two. In October, Ben Gibbard returned to his native Death Cab for the band's loudest and most consistent CD to date. It had us once the opening chords of "The New Year" rang out, and maintained its grip with lush arrangements and incisive lyrics (check the glove compartment metaphor in "Title and Registration"). The songwriting is so tremendous, it's tough to believe Gibbard outdid himself with that Postal Service CD (kindly see the top of this list). Unfortunately, the downside to such artistic productivity is public oversight. Transatlanticism is a wonderful record, albeit the type of thing we've come to expect from Gibbard; his Postal charm took almost everyone by surprise. But even though Death Cab's finest hour currently sits bleeding in the light of Give Up, it's the type of masterful work that ages well. Undoubtedly, it will be revisited and recognized as the years pass.--John Vettese

Blur

Think Tank

(VIRGIN)

Don't read too much into the title. On Think Tank, Blur is all heart. The album is a gorgeous, hip-shaking work about seeing the world through sad and hopeful eyes. The band even weathered guitar genius Graham Coxon's tetchy exit without missing a beat. Think Tank revels in a world-music jones redolent of early-'80s Clash and Talking Heads as well as frontman Damon Albarn's antiwar profile. Crucially, though, Albarn knows when and when not to make big statements. The songs about club-hopping are of a piece with the ones about peace and love, man.--Michael Pelusi

Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Fever to Tell

(INTERSCOPE)

It came on after a long incubation. Fever to Tell is the bloodcurdling, hectic jag administered by Karen O et al., previously the most celebrated untested three-piece of the garage-punk revival. O's delivery is the key, even from first listen: From the inner-steel warmth she exudes on "Maps" ("Wait. They don't love you like I love you") to the lashes of her dominant-sevenths (those vocal hops she executes on the ravaging "Black Tongue"), she holds a gorgeous, taut expressiveness, behind a fringe of asymmetric bangs. At times -- such as in the hidden track "Porcelain," a direct appeal to a lover -- you can almost hear her stop panting and start breathing, but this Fever won't break or slow.--Juliet Fletcher

Matthew Dear

Leave Luck to Heaven

(GHOSTLY)

In the short history of micro-house laptop-pop, rarely has something sounded as intimate and ornery as Dear's cinematically titled debut. Along with the cranky thud of lo-fi IBM that infects the messy, catchy melodies and wiggling synthesizers of "Fex" and "Dog Days," there's an ominous quality to Dear's verse-chorus structures that goes beyond mere moody ambience. It pervades his stream-of-consciousness lyrics and baritone vocal renderings like a low-grade fever, burning everything within. By the time he angrily reaches the character study of "It's Over Now," Dear is spent -- and not in an all-night, house-head, hands-in-the-air manner.--A.D.A.

Beth Gibbons & Rustin Man

Out of Season

(SANCTUARY)

Freed from Portishead's Lucite cocoon, Beth Gibbons found an ideal collaborator in Talk Talk's Paul Webb (a.k.a. Rustin Man), who conjures up nimble evocations of Bert Jansch and Lee Hazlewood while Gibbons channels Ella Fitzgerald and Chan Marshall. With the deceptive simplicity of a classic pop record, Out of Season seems to expand every time you listen to it.--Sam Adams

All Girl Summer Fun Band

2

(K)

Nice girls may not finish first, but they make a respectable showing. All Girl Summer Fun Band is unfailingly polite; on 2, the Portland, Ore., quartet seeks permission to marry a bad boy ("Dear Mr. and Mrs. Troublemaker"), date another girl's beau ("Becky") and wrestle a bear ("Grizzly Bear"). Loaded with cheery harmonies and Heavenly hooks, 2's almost as boy-crazy as the band's debut, but its requisite road songs ("Down South, 10 Hours, I-5," "Tour Heart Throb") make it a proper second album. The catchy keys on "Samantha Secret Agent" and "Video Game Heart" would be icing on anybody else's cake, but AGSFB doesn't bother with cake. They satisfy a sweet tooth like icing straight out of the tube.--M.J. Fine

The Notwist

Neon Golden

(DOMINO)

If Axl Rose emerged from his rabbit hole with a trip-hop record, his escape from ""Paradise City'' would parallel The Notwist's career-defining Neon Golden. When they were angsty German lads, The Notwist made mediocre metal draped in distortion. With the luminous Neon, they become masters of sublime electro-pop. Markus Acher's soft, staccato storytelling is a rare find, able to convey downtrodden depression and hope in the same note. A bed of time-release breakbeats and warm acoustic instrumentation cushions his pain, while digital and analog sources blend and bleed to find the perfect beat. A banjo straight from the bayou even surfaces through a synth line at one point. Absolutely stunning.--Andrew Parks

Quasi

Hot Shit/ Live Shit

(TOUCH AND GO)

Michael Pelusi chose the Live Shit side of this double-album as one of his top 10 CDs of the year, while Patrick Rapa chose Hot Shit. The two critics quickly began a preposterously well-mannered e-mail exchange on the topic. Here is an excerpt:

Dear Pat,

To these ears Hot Shit is a fine, mildly flawed Quasi album. But Live Shit (recorded in their studio in front of a small audience) is unadulterated Quasi, both catchy and mad as hell. I wouldn't have thought they would've been able to commit to tape renditions of "Nothing from Nothing" and "A Case of No Way Out" more emotionally lacerating than the originals. But here they are. Sam Coomes' keyboards and vocals are blessedly crankier than ever. And Live Shit does for Janet Weiss' drums what "Letter from an Occupant" did for Neko Case's vocals, what Back in Black did for Angus Young's guitar. Yay, hyperbole!

Your pal,

Mike

Dear Mike,

You are living in the past, my friend. Live Shit is an excellent record, but lacking between-song banter and crowd noise, it is essentially a greatest-hits collection. Hot Shit is exactly what its name implies: new, nasty, fresh! Check the sliding, clanging guitar on "Seven Years Gone" and Weiss' rambling drum-bashing on "Good Time Rock 'n' Roll." And, for the first time ever, Coomes came up with something resembling optimism on the gospel-ish "Good Times," which he starts by saying, "Life without love is all the hell you need," but ends with the declaration of "happy days, in spite of it all." See how this band has taught itself new tricks? They're growing, Mike. Won't you let them grow?

Your associate,

Patrick

The Strokes

Room on Fire

(RCA)

After an experimental affair with Nigel Godrich, The Strokes went back to the studio with Gordon Raphael for Room on Fire, an easygoing, happy amalgam of styles and mannerisms that Is This It just hinted at (the snaps and claps of the first track give it all away). The best song, "Reptilia," has a tricky riff that's relentless, no matter how much Julian Casablancas' woozy wailing tries to slow it down. And while lyricism might not be the draw, it certainly isn't lazy here ("Oh Tennessee, what did you write?/ I come together in the middle of the night/ Oh that's an ending that I can't write/ 'cause I've got you to let me down"). Casablancas swings from vocal branch to vocal branch, from dark and driving to sweet and soulful. There's a sneaking sense, too, that the band's hitting a narrative stride, that it's not all hooks and lures. So from now on, tell us a story -- we know you're not boring.--L.H.

Mates of State

Team Boo

(POLYVINYL)

There's hardly a moment during any of the 12 tracks on Team Boo where you know what Mates of State are singing about. The album opens with "Ha Ha," a rousing rock song where the following things happen simultaneously: 1) Kori Gardner plays a cascading keyboard riff and 2) shouts "Oh, I can't see where you are." 3) Her husband, Jason Hammel, says, curiously, "Where is the problem? Squared-off, all bother," while 4) crashing the cymbals and punching the snares. The whole disc is like that: crazy, confusing lyrics set to a head-bobbing pop-rock soundtrack. There's joy in the befuddlement and any spontaneous moment of clarity ("As I look into those eyes, I can't behave!" -- we've all sorta been there) is just a mirage.--P.R.

Ms. Dynamite

A Little Deeper

(INTERSCOPE)

Ms. Dynamite (née Niomi McLean-Daley) came to prominence in the U.K. garage scene, but her debut album swings into the realm of sultry R&B. A Little Deeper is undeniably sexy, and tinged throughout with enough grit to make it both sad and sonically compelling. This 2002 Mercury Prize-winner reveals a true star; she's the anti-Ashanti, banishing any who wish to see their divas as little more than simpering baby-murmurers with her strong, defiant voice and her sugar-free lyrics. Here's hoping her U.S. label -- which released the bling-bashing "It Takes More" as the first single (surprise, radio avoided it like the plague) -- doesn't force a Kelis-like makeover on this sweatsuited belter in an effort to pump up sales among the all-important (sigh) "horny dude" demographic.--Maura Johnston

Zwan

Mary Star of the Sea

(MARTHA'S MUSIC/ REPRISE)

If Smashing Pumpkins are Billy Corgan's gloomy cloud, then Zwan was certainly his silver lining. For this debut/swan song (yes, they broke up already), he assembled an all-star supporting cast -- Jimmy Chamberlin (Pumpkins), Matt Sweeney (Chavez), David Pajo (Slint, Tortoise) and Paz Lenchantin (A Perfect Circle) -- and gave up his usual tyrannical control in the studio. The end product is the Pumpkins on Prozac, a collection of happy love songs and bouncy musings. Uncharacteristically cheerful, Corgan's smile is evident throughout the album, particularly on the whimsical "El Sol" and the single, "Honestly." Sadly, Mary Star of the Sea will end up just a brilliant musical footnote in Corgan's career.--Jesse Delaney

The New Pornographers

Electric Version

(MATADOR)

The New Pornographers' second album goes a long way toward resolving the debt Canada owes the world for unleashing Bryan Adams. The Vancouver indie rock supergroup kicks out pop songs trimmed of fluff, but still brimming with natural catchiness. The guitars and drums on Electric Version are edgy and make for many delicious grooves, and "From Blown Speakers" flat out rocks harder than pop songs are supposed to. Add the amazing voice of chanteuse Neko Case (splitting vocal duties with Carl Newman) and the dynamic becomes irresistible. Somehow, knowing that The New Pornographers recorded this CD as a side project with no guarantee of another makes the record sound all the more sweet.--J.D.

David Bowie

Reality

(ISO)

After dealing apocalyptic Nietzsche-isms on Heathen, Bowie plays a sleepwalking cheetah with a heart full of loving cynicism and longing romanticism through the City That Never Sleeps on Reality. It's a genuine lyrical change-up. What's most interesting is that he's matched those texts with his most relaxed singing and catchiest melodies since Hunky Dory. The Cuban-heel-clicking rock of "New Killer Star" and the vibraphonist-pop of "She'll Drive the Big Car" are shockingly guileless -- but lack none of Bowie's patented drama. (That's how he managed to out-weird Jonathan Richman on his cover of the oddball "Pablo Picasso.") Even the nonstop erotic cabaret of its finale, "Bring Me the Disco King," is chilled. Theatrical, yes, but certainly more off-off-Broadway than his usual psychological Cirque du Soleil.--A.D.A.

Some notes about the above:

Once again, the nigh-sabermetric scoring method developed by previous music editor and current freelance ninja Brian Howard was employed in the creation of this list. In a nutshell: Our critics were asked to list their 10 favorite CDs of the year. Albums got 10 points for being somebody's No. 1, 9 points for second place, and so on. Then we gave an extra point to each No. 1 just because. Soon, a point was added each time an album appeared on more than one list, which has to count for something. After that it should have been the simple matter of clicking "sort" in an Excel spreadsheet, but there were ties. Most notably, OutKast's double album with two hit singles had the same point total as indie side project The Postal Service. Now, we mean no disrespect to the NHL, but ties should be avoided whenever possible, especially when it comes to naming the best album of the year. So Elisa Ludwig (whose No. 1 was OutKast) and the aforementioned Brian Howard (who liked Postal Service the best) were given free drinks and a short trivia quiz about the two bands. It was close, but Brian scored slightly better and that, my friends, is why Postal Service beat OutKast. At the bottom of the list, Zwan, New Pornographers and David Bowie were tied as well. That matter was decided by a game of darts at Dirty Franks. In all, 139 albums received votes. (Who was the least of the best? Belle and Sebastian, Dwayne Sodabherk, Madlib, My Morning Jacket -- lots of very good artists.) It also should be noted that some albums made the top spot on some lists but didn't find a place on anybody else's list. We've allowed these lonely writers to state their cases in a section called "No, These Are the Best Albums of 2003!" which you will find on our little underdog of a website, www.citypaper.net. Each critic's list is also posted for your enjoyment and ridicule.

--Patrick Rapa