Michael Jackson – Billie Jean
Choose Your Own Adventure
You are an unstoppable musical juggernaut, arguably the most gargantuan ever. Rich, famous, respected, beloved, you’ve got the whole world in your sequined hands.
What do you do for an encore?
A) Squander your talent, money, and sanity (chisel your nose to spite your face), gradually losing your grip on that world, letting it fall to the dance floor below.
B) Take five minutes to listen to yourself. Hear yourself as the whole world hears you. Can’t you hear your bassline? Listen: Metaphoric, hyperbolic, onomatopoeic, the bass is like a monster’s heart, da da dumming monstrously.
Ben Folds Five – Brick
Bricks, drowning, the day after Christmas? The images are coded, but the sound is crystal clear. The funereal chords, the catch in the throat. The unheard scream, the deafening whisper. Burdens so heavy they threaten to sink. Repression so deep it threatens to surface. Gifts unwanted, already opened. Cold and wet and lonely and selfish. These mysteries, as a boy, I thought I understood, but now, as a man, I know I don’t. These topics are unknowable, unthinkable, unspeakable. Unsingable, unplayable, and now, I know, unwriteable. The tune reveals more than a paragraph can, more than I would ever dare.
Tears For Fears – Everybody Wants To Rule The World
Can I talk about the intro, which always steals my breath, the way the guitar, like, kisses the synths? The way the drums, like, tap dance, on tiptoe? The way the whole thing’s like a sunrise, or something? Can I talk about the voices, weird, otherworldly, finding each other and fitting together, hands in gloves, or hands in hands, all of the parts, like, saving the whole? Can I talk about the bridge, which, I don’t know, soars, or maybe explodes, or really, ascends? Can I talk about the song, and only the song, and not the one who listened?
P.M. Dawn – Set Adrift On Memory Bliss
Critics praise rappers for being cinematic. Few were as filmic as the great* P.M. Dawn, who captured a scene, and my eternal admiration, with a flow that literally flowed, like a Steadicam:
“The camera pans the cocktail glass, behind a blind of plastic plants…”
The group was perfect only once**: This line, this verse, this lovely song. Even as a kid, as I rapped and bopped along, I knew it meant something deeper than dancing.
I was, and am, what the title said.
*Here, “great” means “underrated.” Also: “actually pretty great, really.”
**Or, “one time more than most of us.”
The Righteous Brothers – Unchained Melody
How did it feel to make this song? The singers, musicians, writers, engineers – the eavesdropping janitors, hushed hangers-on – did they shiver, tear up, swallow lumps, forget breathing? The high note – THE high note, the highest, the holiest – fluke or fate or living fiction? Did they try to repeat it, or know it was impossible? Did they know what they’d done? Could they recognize its timelessness? How does it feel to hear this song? The fan scribbling gibberish – slow dancer, dreamer – must he succumb? Will he always surrender? The note says yes; the words are redundant. This song feels like _____.
Showing posts with label Ben Folds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ben Folds. Show all posts
April 3, 2012
December 22, 2010
My 11 Favorite Albums of 2010
I used to write hundreds and thousands of words, on music and myself and their Venn intersection, but now I just tweet to my tens or ones of followers. I’ve never stopped listening, I listen all the time, but these are the albums that made me want to speak. These are the albums whose chords struck a chord. This is the music that made me miss writing, the music that left me more awestruck than articulate. The music that deserves more than 140 characters.
1. Kaiser Cartel – Secret Transit
She sang into my ear like a lover. I fell.
2. Kate Miller-Heidke – Curiouser
The smart girl who’s wilder than anyone suspects (& also loves your favorite bands).
3. Kanye West – My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
A gryphon & a sexbot walk into a club…
4. Ben Folds & Nick Hornby – Lonely Avenue
Top 5 desert-island rocker/author mixtapes. Go!
5. Taylor Swift – Speak Now
31 y.o. man seeks country/pop ingenue. Must love singing, journaling, avenging.
6. Arcade Fire – The Suburbs
Where the wild things rock out; Canadian beauty.
7. Gorillaz – Plastic Beach
What: A party. Who: Everyone. When: Now. Why: Why not?
8. Janelle Monae – The ArchAndroid
Concept album? Androids? Nope. Just love songs.
9. Erykah Badu – New Amerykah Part Two: Return of the Ankh
Part two? Ankhs? Nope. More love songs.
10. Rufus Wainwright – All Days Are Nights: Songs for Lulu
The diva’s throat catches. (His eyeshadow sparkles.) The notes plummet earthward, then ascend to greater mysteries.
11. The Roots – How I Got Over
“Matthew Webber’s Daily Commute: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack”
December 23, 2008
My Favorite 11 Albums of 2008
Hotly anticipated by perhaps two of you, here's my list of the eleven albums I listened to, recommended, argued about, and just plain enjoyed the most this year. As I say every year, they're not necessarily the best in an objective and critical sense, which is something I used to value more highly. Instead, they're only the best for me: subjective, personal me, Matthew Webber.
From rock to rap to (gasp!) pop/country, this is the stuff I loved, unashamedly. The stuff I played again and again, when no one I wanted to impress was around.
In short, these albums are simply my favorites. I love them.
My Favorite 11 Albums of 2008
or, Eleven More Nails in My Hipster Coffin
1. Aimee Mann, "...Smilers"
2. The Roots, "Rising Down"
3. Guns N' Roses, "Chinese Democracy"
4. Taylor Swift, "Fearless"
5. Ben Folds, "Way to Normal"
6. Death Cab For Cutie, "Narrow Stairs"
7. Coldplay, "Viva La Vida"
8. Jenny Lewis, "Acid Tongue"
9. She & Him, "Volume One"
10. Kate Nash, "Made of Bricks"
11. Girl Talk, "Feed the Animals"
From rock to rap to (gasp!) pop/country, this is the stuff I loved, unashamedly. The stuff I played again and again, when no one I wanted to impress was around.
In short, these albums are simply my favorites. I love them.
My Favorite 11 Albums of 2008
or, Eleven More Nails in My Hipster Coffin
1. Aimee Mann, "...Smilers"
2. The Roots, "Rising Down"
3. Guns N' Roses, "Chinese Democracy"
4. Taylor Swift, "Fearless"
5. Ben Folds, "Way to Normal"
6. Death Cab For Cutie, "Narrow Stairs"
7. Coldplay, "Viva La Vida"
8. Jenny Lewis, "Acid Tongue"
9. She & Him, "Volume One"
10. Kate Nash, "Made of Bricks"
11. Girl Talk, "Feed the Animals"
November 11, 2007
11-20: The White Album to Siamese Dream
11. Beatles - The White Album
Pop Quiz
True/False
1) “Helter Skelter” is heavier than metal.
2) This is the album where Paul became my favorite.
3) One time, at a Yankees game, I saw Paul on the JumboTron! Both of us were watching the very same game!! Both of us were sitting in the same freakin’ stadium!!! This was by far the highlight of the game.
4) I’m a better person for having heard The Beatles.
Essays
5) Why do I cover “Rocky Raccoon”?
6) Why do I tolerate “Revolution 9"?
7) Great double album, or greatest double album?
8) Review your favorite Beatles memory.
12. Pearl Jam - Ten
Eddie Vedder probably hates me. I totally respect the last grunge band standing. I totally agree the president sucks. My Pearl Jam tapes are totally worn out. But I haven’t cared about Pearl Jam in a decade. I miss the riffs they used to write. I miss the reverb on Vedder’s voice. I miss the fervor I felt for four albums – one or two more than most former fans – even though they’ve put out x albums since. (Seriously, Eddie, I don’t even know.) I must miss high school, and even junior high, considering how often I still play its soundtrack.
13. Beck - Sea Change
Sometimes, this album rocks me to sleep. Sure, I play it other times, too: whenever I want to feel understood, whenever I want to commiserate with someone, and during long drives with all these other albums. But this is my favorite insomnia music. I play it when other treatments have failed: late-night talk shows, melatonin, milk. I fear I’m making the music sound boring, when actually, to me, it couldn’t sound more beautiful. Quiet, gentle, melodic, sad, it hushes and soothes and colors my dreams. A concept album, or maybe a lullaby, it breaks my heart instead of a bough.
14. Ben Folds Five - Whatever and Ever Amen
The Shit
Ben Folds is a geek like me,
Writing’ white boy poetry,
Listenin’ to Dr. Dre,
Droppin’ dope shit every day.
Clearly, Ben Folds is a better
Singer, writer, and whatever.
Still, I do suspect that Ben
Writes some bad shit now and then.
Ballads, bangers, clever, classic,
Better than the park Jurassic.
Crackin’ wise, but soundin’ smart?
That’s the shit that breaks my heart.
Now I’m older than I was.
Still, I listen, just because.
Even though I don’t have kids,
Love the cartoon shit he did.
Sorry, Ben, for bein’ shitty.
Next time, I’ll say somethin’ pretty.
15. Elliott Smith - XO
Elliott, thanks, man. What can I say? Nothing you haven’t heard before, probably. Nothing to return the favor of your life. Your playing, your singing, sounded like a friend. Your music made me feel less alone. The sadness – the truth – in your songs helped me cope. “Cope with what?” you ask, maybe angry. “Clinical depression? A heroin habit? Increasingly prophetic suicidal thoughts?” Yes, you’re right; I don’t understand. Yes, I know; my sympathy is futile. Yes, this letter is overwrought. Still, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more. Sorry my fandom wasn’t enough. Thanks, again, for giving me your music.
16. Rufus Wainwright - Want One
Why isn’t this guy massively famous? Fine, he lisps, and his lyrics are flaming, but this guy’s songs deserve to be standards. Broadway stars should belt them out. Toddlers should sing them at preschool assemblies. Literature geeks should study their metaphors. Poor Elton John should weep into his rhinestones. This guy rewrites the history of pop – Tin Pan Alley, rock ‘n’ roll, sensitive singer/songwriter sap – swinging for the fences and never ever missing, taking a bat to popular cliches. See what I did there? He’d never do that. Instead, he’d make up something new, something to envy forever and ever.
17. Beatles - Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
Catchier than the common cold! Is it clear yet The Beatles are my all-time favorite band? Number Seventeen – my all-time favorite number – is The Beatles’ third appearance on my all-time favorites list. When I was seventeen, before I wussied out, they might’ve scored even higher than this, higher than women (sorry, Tori!) and artists outside of the grunge-rock canon (Beatle-esque guys like Elliott and Ben). Of course, my boys Aerosmith would’ve been here, too. And lots of Van Halen – and even Van Hagar. But my love of The Beatles has grown as I’ve aged. My listening frequency has never diminished.
18. Aimee Mann - Lost in Space
Thanks to Magnolia, I knew she was amazing, hearing her songs in the mouths of those characters. Still, I was stunned by her storytelling here, hearing her voice and picturing scenes, even without an accompanying film. That’s why she’s one of my all-time favorite writers, not just of songs, but of anything with words. That’s why I wish I could be Aimee Mann, telling the stories that no one else can, singing the songs that no one else will, finding the comfort in being alone. Isn’t it obvious why these songs strike me? No one’s around to answer my question.
19. Blur - The Great Escape
Sometimes, I’m stricken with a touch of Anglophilia, mostly due to albums like this. Chic, cheeky, rapier witty – if all of England sounds like this, I totally need to go.
When I lived in Australia, this album was my soundtrack. One of several bootlegs I bought at a flea market, this tape was my choice for contemplative bus rides, gazing out the window and seeing the world. I hope to play it on all my future travels.
Also, I imagine “The Universal” everywhere. Possibly, for real, the best song ever.
–Best Beatles Albums: No. 4
–Best Oasis Albums: No. 1
20. Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream
I’m jotting this down before the big comeback, before the second coming of the alt-rock Messiah – Billy Corgan, the B-side Jesus – making an angry and beautiful racket, shredding his throat and scorching the earth, beating Axl Rose in the race to risk my fandom, making new music that might not sound like this: the loudest and prettiest dirges and tantrums, youthful anthems that somehow still matter, even more now than ever before, rocking today, in Geek U.S.A., quietly disarmed – a bummer when you hummer – with high school band mates playing different songs. Soon, I’ll discover if we can rise again.
Pop Quiz
True/False
1) “Helter Skelter” is heavier than metal.
2) This is the album where Paul became my favorite.
3) One time, at a Yankees game, I saw Paul on the JumboTron! Both of us were watching the very same game!! Both of us were sitting in the same freakin’ stadium!!! This was by far the highlight of the game.
4) I’m a better person for having heard The Beatles.
Essays
5) Why do I cover “Rocky Raccoon”?
6) Why do I tolerate “Revolution 9"?
7) Great double album, or greatest double album?
8) Review your favorite Beatles memory.
12. Pearl Jam - Ten
Eddie Vedder probably hates me. I totally respect the last grunge band standing. I totally agree the president sucks. My Pearl Jam tapes are totally worn out. But I haven’t cared about Pearl Jam in a decade. I miss the riffs they used to write. I miss the reverb on Vedder’s voice. I miss the fervor I felt for four albums – one or two more than most former fans – even though they’ve put out x albums since. (Seriously, Eddie, I don’t even know.) I must miss high school, and even junior high, considering how often I still play its soundtrack.
13. Beck - Sea Change
Sometimes, this album rocks me to sleep. Sure, I play it other times, too: whenever I want to feel understood, whenever I want to commiserate with someone, and during long drives with all these other albums. But this is my favorite insomnia music. I play it when other treatments have failed: late-night talk shows, melatonin, milk. I fear I’m making the music sound boring, when actually, to me, it couldn’t sound more beautiful. Quiet, gentle, melodic, sad, it hushes and soothes and colors my dreams. A concept album, or maybe a lullaby, it breaks my heart instead of a bough.
14. Ben Folds Five - Whatever and Ever Amen
The Shit
Ben Folds is a geek like me,
Writing’ white boy poetry,
Listenin’ to Dr. Dre,
Droppin’ dope shit every day.
Clearly, Ben Folds is a better
Singer, writer, and whatever.
Still, I do suspect that Ben
Writes some bad shit now and then.
Ballads, bangers, clever, classic,
Better than the park Jurassic.
Crackin’ wise, but soundin’ smart?
That’s the shit that breaks my heart.
Now I’m older than I was.
Still, I listen, just because.
Even though I don’t have kids,
Love the cartoon shit he did.
Sorry, Ben, for bein’ shitty.
Next time, I’ll say somethin’ pretty.
15. Elliott Smith - XO
Elliott, thanks, man. What can I say? Nothing you haven’t heard before, probably. Nothing to return the favor of your life. Your playing, your singing, sounded like a friend. Your music made me feel less alone. The sadness – the truth – in your songs helped me cope. “Cope with what?” you ask, maybe angry. “Clinical depression? A heroin habit? Increasingly prophetic suicidal thoughts?” Yes, you’re right; I don’t understand. Yes, I know; my sympathy is futile. Yes, this letter is overwrought. Still, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more. Sorry my fandom wasn’t enough. Thanks, again, for giving me your music.
16. Rufus Wainwright - Want One
Why isn’t this guy massively famous? Fine, he lisps, and his lyrics are flaming, but this guy’s songs deserve to be standards. Broadway stars should belt them out. Toddlers should sing them at preschool assemblies. Literature geeks should study their metaphors. Poor Elton John should weep into his rhinestones. This guy rewrites the history of pop – Tin Pan Alley, rock ‘n’ roll, sensitive singer/songwriter sap – swinging for the fences and never ever missing, taking a bat to popular cliches. See what I did there? He’d never do that. Instead, he’d make up something new, something to envy forever and ever.
17. Beatles - Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
Catchier than the common cold! Is it clear yet The Beatles are my all-time favorite band? Number Seventeen – my all-time favorite number – is The Beatles’ third appearance on my all-time favorites list. When I was seventeen, before I wussied out, they might’ve scored even higher than this, higher than women (sorry, Tori!) and artists outside of the grunge-rock canon (Beatle-esque guys like Elliott and Ben). Of course, my boys Aerosmith would’ve been here, too. And lots of Van Halen – and even Van Hagar. But my love of The Beatles has grown as I’ve aged. My listening frequency has never diminished.
18. Aimee Mann - Lost in Space
Thanks to Magnolia, I knew she was amazing, hearing her songs in the mouths of those characters. Still, I was stunned by her storytelling here, hearing her voice and picturing scenes, even without an accompanying film. That’s why she’s one of my all-time favorite writers, not just of songs, but of anything with words. That’s why I wish I could be Aimee Mann, telling the stories that no one else can, singing the songs that no one else will, finding the comfort in being alone. Isn’t it obvious why these songs strike me? No one’s around to answer my question.
19. Blur - The Great Escape
Sometimes, I’m stricken with a touch of Anglophilia, mostly due to albums like this. Chic, cheeky, rapier witty – if all of England sounds like this, I totally need to go.
When I lived in Australia, this album was my soundtrack. One of several bootlegs I bought at a flea market, this tape was my choice for contemplative bus rides, gazing out the window and seeing the world. I hope to play it on all my future travels.
Also, I imagine “The Universal” everywhere. Possibly, for real, the best song ever.
–Best Beatles Albums: No. 4
–Best Oasis Albums: No. 1
20. Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream
I’m jotting this down before the big comeback, before the second coming of the alt-rock Messiah – Billy Corgan, the B-side Jesus – making an angry and beautiful racket, shredding his throat and scorching the earth, beating Axl Rose in the race to risk my fandom, making new music that might not sound like this: the loudest and prettiest dirges and tantrums, youthful anthems that somehow still matter, even more now than ever before, rocking today, in Geek U.S.A., quietly disarmed – a bummer when you hummer – with high school band mates playing different songs. Soon, I’ll discover if we can rise again.
71-80: Kid A to Rockin’ the Suburbs
71. Radiohead - Kid A
With this album, Radiohead stopped making anthems, and made this noise pop, these soundscapes, instead, pieces of music to study and write to, and also to criticize for not being songs, even though I play these whatevers all the time, trying, no, hoping, to find what I’ve lost: joy and excitement and hopefulness itself, for music and life and their glorious potential, to shock and challenge and be an event, when someone says, "Listen," and that’s what you do, sitting with them in silence and awe, sharing a moment of wonder and terror, fearing such sublimity will never strike again.
72. Alice In Chains - Jar of Flies
Old Matt: Why the hell do you listen to this? You’re not on drugs, you’re not suicidal–
Young Matt: Dude, I’m in high school. What’s your excuse?
OM: Well, it’s pretty–
YM: You sound surprised.
OM: It’s not like they’re known for their quiet reflections. They’re known, if at all, for their caterwauling "harmonies," as well as for putting the "in" in "heroin." It’s hard to justify liking this stuff.
YM: What’s there to justify? You said it yourself. The album’s pretty.
OM: You mean, the EP.
YM: Whatever. It’s quiet. With harmonies, yes. It’s unplugged–
OM: Shh! Just listen.
73. Beastie Boys - Licensed to Ill
All throughout high school, I hated this shit, grouping it with Coolio, Sublime, and beer as things I didn’t get or want to partake in, thereby making me boring at parties. (I always went, though, just to observe, hoping each time that something would happen. Also, I drank a lot of soda.) Everyone else would rap every word, the math of which seemed incomprehensible. (Weren’t we all seven in 1986?) Thus, this album wasn’t mine.
Later, I actually listened to it, loving the old-school beats and rhymes, wishing I’d been cooler in 1997. This album and hindsight are both funny things.
74. Jason Mraz - Waiting for My Rocket to Come
I’m hereby starting beef with this dude, hoping he’ll read this and diss me on record, thereby launching my recording career, and maybe letting me into his crew. It works for rappers, so why not singer/songwriters – especially ones who adore Young MC (an influence Mraz has actually cited)? Actually, despite his genre, and also despite his choirboy voice, Mraz’s hip-hop jones is clear. It’s there in his humor, but also his wordplay, disarmingly witty and polysyllabic. I want to write more songs like his, if only to paint in less depressive colors – and also, like him, to avoid trite cliches.
75. Bob Dylan - Blood on the Tracks
I’d never dispute the artist’s brilliance. And yet, I seldom listen to him, favoring people with prettier voices, prettier songs, and sometimes even prettier faces. Perhaps it’s because I heard him so late, or else it’s because his cult turns me off, or maybe I’m just a contrarian critic, favoring "artists" who don’t write their songs, but most of his music, sadly, fails to speak to me. It’s way too dense, too riddled with allusions, to resonate as more than an intellectual exercise – except for this album, his softest and prettiest. I listen, I mourn, I relate, I get it.
76. Nas - Illmatic
Ill-Matt-ic
Here, with wordplay witty, gritty
He chronicled a crumbling city
Here, with sampled subway trains
He rapped of people fleeing pain
Some through death and some through crime
Some through beats and some through rhymes
The best debut in all of rap
Then he made a bunch of crap
Still, his wordplay murders mine
Skillz this bad should be a crime
Even though my raps are wack
I battle Nas so he’ll attack
If he reads this, he will laugh
"What the hell is this?" he’ll ask
Yet I pray he’ll take his pen
And write a worthwhile rhyme again
77. GZA - Liquid Swords
Wanna get your nerdiest white friends excited? Ask ‘em about the Wu-Tang Clan! Raps about swordplay bond us together; heated arguments about our favorite Wu members (GZA) and solo albums (this one) make that bond inseparable. It also makes us really loud in bars. Really, really, really loud. This album, like the others, is best left undescribed. You’re better off hearing its sounds for yourself – its kung-fu samples and head-chopping beats, its battle raps and sword battle raps – than letting this white boy ruin it, excitably. Spilling more ink would lead to regret, kinda like spilling more blood. Or something.
78. Belly - King
If everyone I know is a representative sample, then I am Belly’s biggest fan. Some of you, I bet, have never even heard of them, much less listened to or bought their albums used. (However, if you’re curious, you’ll find them in the bargain bin, next to R.E.M.’s Monster and Hootie!) History will say they’re a ‘90s cliche, a Next Big Thing that never really was, a female-fronted curio better left unheard. Objectively, I might agree. Subjectively, personally, I disagree with history. I think, I feel, I know I love them, for sounding exactly like bands like this should sound.
79. Marilyn Manson - Mechanical Animals
He writes the songs that make the whole world kill – but only if you believe what you read. If you actually read his lyrics and interviews, it quickly becomes obvious that the most shocking things about this "shock rocker" are his deep insights into humanity – the depressed and occasionally depraved parts of humanity, sure, but humanity nonetheless – and his surprisingly tuneful way of conveying them. Few albums have changed my perception of an artist so completely, from willful ignorance to unabashed fandom. He writes the songs that make me want to re-read his autobiography. Music to spite other people to.
80. Ben Folds - Rockin’ the Suburbs
Surely, you have your own favorite artists, those artists whose B-sides you’ve purchased on the Internet, whose work makes you feel like you know them, and like them – like, if you got to hang with them, you’d be, like, BFFs – and though they might break their piano stools in concert, or crack your shit up with their giddy profanity, they also understand how to get inside your head, and also your heart and your soul. (It’s metaphysical.) Listing them empirically limits your expression – ranking your most-favored favorites, like, sucks – when all of their work, in whole, is what moves you.
With this album, Radiohead stopped making anthems, and made this noise pop, these soundscapes, instead, pieces of music to study and write to, and also to criticize for not being songs, even though I play these whatevers all the time, trying, no, hoping, to find what I’ve lost: joy and excitement and hopefulness itself, for music and life and their glorious potential, to shock and challenge and be an event, when someone says, "Listen," and that’s what you do, sitting with them in silence and awe, sharing a moment of wonder and terror, fearing such sublimity will never strike again.
72. Alice In Chains - Jar of Flies
Old Matt: Why the hell do you listen to this? You’re not on drugs, you’re not suicidal–
Young Matt: Dude, I’m in high school. What’s your excuse?
OM: Well, it’s pretty–
YM: You sound surprised.
OM: It’s not like they’re known for their quiet reflections. They’re known, if at all, for their caterwauling "harmonies," as well as for putting the "in" in "heroin." It’s hard to justify liking this stuff.
YM: What’s there to justify? You said it yourself. The album’s pretty.
OM: You mean, the EP.
YM: Whatever. It’s quiet. With harmonies, yes. It’s unplugged–
OM: Shh! Just listen.
73. Beastie Boys - Licensed to Ill
All throughout high school, I hated this shit, grouping it with Coolio, Sublime, and beer as things I didn’t get or want to partake in, thereby making me boring at parties. (I always went, though, just to observe, hoping each time that something would happen. Also, I drank a lot of soda.) Everyone else would rap every word, the math of which seemed incomprehensible. (Weren’t we all seven in 1986?) Thus, this album wasn’t mine.
Later, I actually listened to it, loving the old-school beats and rhymes, wishing I’d been cooler in 1997. This album and hindsight are both funny things.
74. Jason Mraz - Waiting for My Rocket to Come
I’m hereby starting beef with this dude, hoping he’ll read this and diss me on record, thereby launching my recording career, and maybe letting me into his crew. It works for rappers, so why not singer/songwriters – especially ones who adore Young MC (an influence Mraz has actually cited)? Actually, despite his genre, and also despite his choirboy voice, Mraz’s hip-hop jones is clear. It’s there in his humor, but also his wordplay, disarmingly witty and polysyllabic. I want to write more songs like his, if only to paint in less depressive colors – and also, like him, to avoid trite cliches.
75. Bob Dylan - Blood on the Tracks
I’d never dispute the artist’s brilliance. And yet, I seldom listen to him, favoring people with prettier voices, prettier songs, and sometimes even prettier faces. Perhaps it’s because I heard him so late, or else it’s because his cult turns me off, or maybe I’m just a contrarian critic, favoring "artists" who don’t write their songs, but most of his music, sadly, fails to speak to me. It’s way too dense, too riddled with allusions, to resonate as more than an intellectual exercise – except for this album, his softest and prettiest. I listen, I mourn, I relate, I get it.
76. Nas - Illmatic
Ill-Matt-ic
Here, with wordplay witty, gritty
He chronicled a crumbling city
Here, with sampled subway trains
He rapped of people fleeing pain
Some through death and some through crime
Some through beats and some through rhymes
The best debut in all of rap
Then he made a bunch of crap
Still, his wordplay murders mine
Skillz this bad should be a crime
Even though my raps are wack
I battle Nas so he’ll attack
If he reads this, he will laugh
"What the hell is this?" he’ll ask
Yet I pray he’ll take his pen
And write a worthwhile rhyme again
77. GZA - Liquid Swords
Wanna get your nerdiest white friends excited? Ask ‘em about the Wu-Tang Clan! Raps about swordplay bond us together; heated arguments about our favorite Wu members (GZA) and solo albums (this one) make that bond inseparable. It also makes us really loud in bars. Really, really, really loud. This album, like the others, is best left undescribed. You’re better off hearing its sounds for yourself – its kung-fu samples and head-chopping beats, its battle raps and sword battle raps – than letting this white boy ruin it, excitably. Spilling more ink would lead to regret, kinda like spilling more blood. Or something.
78. Belly - King
If everyone I know is a representative sample, then I am Belly’s biggest fan. Some of you, I bet, have never even heard of them, much less listened to or bought their albums used. (However, if you’re curious, you’ll find them in the bargain bin, next to R.E.M.’s Monster and Hootie!) History will say they’re a ‘90s cliche, a Next Big Thing that never really was, a female-fronted curio better left unheard. Objectively, I might agree. Subjectively, personally, I disagree with history. I think, I feel, I know I love them, for sounding exactly like bands like this should sound.
79. Marilyn Manson - Mechanical Animals
He writes the songs that make the whole world kill – but only if you believe what you read. If you actually read his lyrics and interviews, it quickly becomes obvious that the most shocking things about this "shock rocker" are his deep insights into humanity – the depressed and occasionally depraved parts of humanity, sure, but humanity nonetheless – and his surprisingly tuneful way of conveying them. Few albums have changed my perception of an artist so completely, from willful ignorance to unabashed fandom. He writes the songs that make me want to re-read his autobiography. Music to spite other people to.
80. Ben Folds - Rockin’ the Suburbs
Surely, you have your own favorite artists, those artists whose B-sides you’ve purchased on the Internet, whose work makes you feel like you know them, and like them – like, if you got to hang with them, you’d be, like, BFFs – and though they might break their piano stools in concert, or crack your shit up with their giddy profanity, they also understand how to get inside your head, and also your heart and your soul. (It’s metaphysical.) Listing them empirically limits your expression – ranking your most-favored favorites, like, sucks – when all of their work, in whole, is what moves you.
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