This is the first time I've done a year end top 10 list for publication, and I was hoping some of you more pro music type writers could give me some feedback on it, either in terms of the selections or anything that I might need to do to improve in my writing.
A few notes:
1) I don't do this professionally, so I don't get promo CDs, meaning that everything on this I bought myself (therefore there is a lot of stuff that might have made my list - Radiohead, Dizzee, Freeway, A-Frames, Nina Natasia prob. - if I had more money)
2) I apologize for using the term "rock 'n' soul" in this piece. There are a fair amout of "boners" in this thing that already embarrass me....
here's the link:
http://www.neumu.net/dailyreport/
here's the text:
Monday, January 5, 2004
Matt Helgeson's Favorite Recordings Of 2003
Neumu's Michael Goldberg writes: With 2004 upon us, we're running those much-anticipated Neumu "best-of" lists. Each year we ask our contributors to consider all that they've listened to during the past year, and to come up with a list of their favorite albums (and, if they are so moved, their fave songs, concerts or whatever). Today we present Neumu reviewer Matt Helgeson's fave music of 2003.
1. Ted Leo/Pharmacists, Hearts of Oak (Lookout!): Pure pop genius from New Jersey's finest, Ted Leo. "Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone" gets nostalgic about first-wave English ska over a Thin Lizzy swipe, creating my favorite song of the year. Also, the bongo-madness-meets-"Subterranean Homesick Blues" rant "Ballad of the Sin Eater" predicted a year of worldwide anti-American sentiment. Aside from these highlights, every song bristles with huge hooks and ants-in-your-pants energy. Sure, he's probably doomed to be an irrelevant indie icon, which is too bad, because I can't think of a better man to play the fatherly Nick Lowe role to this generation's emo punks.
2. Bubba Sparxxx, Deliverance (Interscope/Beat Club): The record with the most heart and guts of any released this year. Bubba's a lovable lunk who's smarter than he thinks he is, with a regretful tone and rueful sense of humor that makes him the wisest spokesman for NASCAR America since Lynyrd Skynyrd's Ronnie Van Zant went down in flames. Producer Timbaland does his boy proud with some of his best work to date, welding high-lonesome country and down-home swamp boogie into his future-shock funk. Bubba's the 2000s rap version of wise-ass R&B hicks like Joe South and Doug Sahm, and we're lucky to have him.
3. Rank Strangers, I Only Fear That We Are Modern (Veto): Legendary in Minneapolis, unknown everywhere else, the Rank Strangers (and leader Mike Wisti) continue their flawless career with another high-water mark. I Only Fear... sees obsessive/compulsive studio tinkerer Wisti cut his songs to the quick, leaving nothing but meat and bone on a collection of (very) short, strange garage nuggets. Leaving behind their past as a Replacements-style roots-rock band, the Strangers' mix of straight-ahead Midwestern pop-punk anthems, off-kilter breakdowns, and leftfield production trickery makes them one of the few bands that sound only like themselves. Wisti writes anthems, even when you can tell he doesn't want to, covering his tracks with odd sound effects and post-punk clang, making the Rank Strangers what could best be described as The Fall for Bruce Springsteen fans.
4. Steve Malkmus, Pig Lib (Matador): Former indie pin-up boy Steve Malkmus ditches the pro forma singer/songwriter ennui of his self-titled debut and takes off for the hills of the Misty Mountain with this daring, prog-rock excursion. Jammy, self-indulgent, and (to these ears) damn near perfect, Pig Lib shows Malkmus coming out of the closet as (gasp!) one hot-shit guitar player. "Witch Mountain Bridge" and "%1 of One" mine early-'70s hippie freakiness with the sly sarcasm that seems to be ingrained in SM's DNA. But college-boy Steve knows the value of maintaining a balanced portfolio, so he's also smart enough to hedge his bets with a handful of his trademark off-kilter pop gems, most notably "Vanessa From Queens" and "Us." If you can, track down the early pressing of the album, which featured a bonus EP highlighted by the standout new-wave memoir "Dynamic Calories."
5. Led Zeppelin, How the West Was Won (Atlantic): On this blistering three-CD live set, Jimmy Page is an absolute nutcase, scrawling tossed-off lead lines every damn chance he gets. Whether it's Eddie Van Halen, Richard Thompson, Jimi Hendrix, or NYC punk legend Robert Quine, I swear Page sounds like every great rock guitarist in history for at least five seconds on this record. The band's backbone, John Bonham, slams down every beat like he's winning a game of dominos at Ice Cube's backyard barbecue, and sounds like the only drummer that ever mattered. As always, John Paul Jones stays out of the way, holding down the fort while Robert Plant erupts in cock-god hissy fits. When giants walked the Earth, this was the noise they made.
6. TV on the Radio, Young Liars EP (Touch & Go): The latest (and possibly best) of the nu-New York buzz bands, TV on the Radio blazed a trail out of Brooklyn with a mystifying, murky debut EP that eschews the punk/disco PIL tributes of its contemporaries for an intoxicating stew of computer-edited rock 'n' soul. Filtering guitars, keyboards, flutes, and everything but the kitchen sink through a laptop, Young Liars sends a virus skulking through the indie-rock mainframe, ending up with something genuinely unique. All the while, singer Tunde Adebimpe's amazing Peter Gabriel-esque vocals breaths life into what, in lesser hands, could have been a chilly art-rock experiment.
7. The White Stripes, Elephant (Third Man Records/V2)/ The Strokes, Room on Fire (RCA): A year after they goosed the Zeitgeist, former MTV 2 phenoms see if they can stick it out for the long haul, coming back with two great albums (both better than their last, no matter what the player haters say). Jack White goes for broke, showing off impressive songwriting chops and a wider sonic palette. If he keeps churning out gargantuan club bangers like the vicious "7 Nation Army" and "Black Math" or ambitious show tunes like "There's No Home for You Here," the Stripes' stripped-down aesthetic might not hold his Zep-sized ambitions.
The Strokes version 2.0 don't mess with their minimalist formula too much, but whip out another batch of great songs that are harder ("Reptilia") and softer (the Guided by Voices-meets-Motown ballad "Under Control") than anything on their debut album. However, old age has taught them some new tricks, like "Automatic Stop"'s brittle Talking Heads two-step and "12:51"'s spiffy laser-light-show guitar lines. As always, Julian can't seem to decide if he's bored or pissed off, so he just stands around trying to look cool, hoping you'll ask him what's wrong.
8. Jay-Z, The Black Album (Roc-a-Fella/Def Jam): Although it's as transparent a heartstring-tugger as an end-of-the-Olympics slow-motion highlight clip set to "Save the Best for Last," Jay-Z's (supposed) career-capping bow succeeds in meeting our impossibly high expectations, thanks to exquisite productions from Roc-a-Fella blue-chippers Kayne West and Just Blaze (who continue to perfect their boom-bap Philly-soul dramatics) and the fact that Jigga is still, you know, the best goddamn rapper on the planet. Highlights include Rick Rubin's bone-crunching return to rap production ("99 Problems") and "My 1st Song", where Jay sounds as nakedly emotional as he's ever been, letting us know that he needed the game as much as the game needed him: "It's my life/ It's my pain and my struggle/ The song I sing/ To you/ Is my everything." Send in the clowns, kids, because the Chairman is going home.
9. Arab Strap, Monday at the Hug & Pint (Matador): In which our favorite drunken Scots create the perfect morning-after album for the UK's aging Generation Ecstasy. It's best on the "The Shy Retirer" and "Peep Peep," when Aiden Moffat hooks his mope-wagon up to a one-two drum machine kick and dramatic disco strings, finally creating the music that should have been playing in the club that Morrissey went to in "How Soon Is Now?" Like "Trainspotting"'s Rent Boy, he's a miserable lout that just might have enough brains to get himself out of this mess alive. After pissing his pants in every pub in town, he's still not so far gone that he can't have the occasional moment of clarity, as in the tender and heartbreaking ballad "Who Named the Days?", when he (rather astutely) notes: "I don't care/ What she says/ I need to go out less."
10. Manitoba, Up in Flames (Domino): One-man-gang Dan Snaith, operating under the Manitoba alias, takes his Pro Tools-equipped PowerBook outside to frolic in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee. In doing so, he creates a terminally pretty amalgamation of '60s psychedelia, skittering drum 'n' bass rhythms, and ambient shoegazer whoosh. It sounds like the first day of spring, waking up to the croaking frogs, chirping birds, harp glissandos, and a chorus of angels. It's endlessly inventive, if a little too tasteful for its own good (at times, I almost expect an announcer to pop up and offer me really good financing terms on a new Volkswagen). Still, Snaith's single-minded devotion to creating beauty makes Up in Flames impossible not to love.
― M@tt He1geson (Matt Helgeson), Tuesday, 6 January 2004 16:54 (twenty-one years ago)
Matt,
Good work! I especially liked the last two blurbs (Arab Strap and Manitoba), which seemed to be the loosest. There's a humility and sincerity here that I suspect readers will like. A few caviling notes:
1. Because I tend to stick irrationally to old-fashioned rules of usage, I try to avoid the word "legendary" unless writing about Bigfoot or some other unverified figure or story. Less uptight people than I will accept the word when applied to a real, historical person (or band), but even they might prefer that the person be someone like Babe Ruth.
2. I wouldn't use that parenthetical "to these ears," since the smart reader understands that, and you don't want to undermine your opinions with too much modesty. That phrase, however, might come in handy if you ever need to issue a pan of a local artist and want to soften the tone.
3. I'm not sure I like the use of the word "erupts" so close to "cock." I like a good dick joke, but that one might be too pornographic.
4. You and I seem to have a similar weakness for loading pieces with too many references. I know I sometimes do it to prove that I know what I'm talking about, which is a bad impulse, or because I spent a lot of time identifying influences and feel the need to put my efforts to work. It's sort of hard not to mention Thin Lizzy when discussing that Ted Leo song, but maybe some of the other influence citations could be replaced with more colorful things--such as what you did with the character analysis of the Arab Strap guy or comparing Manitoba to a VW commerical.
Looking foward to reading more of your stuff!
― dylan (dylan), Friday, 9 January 2004 05:19 (twenty-one years ago)