My 30 Best Albums of the Decade: #3

This is it. The Top Three. I said the top 6 were thisclose, and they were. But I did not decide on what would be 2 and what would be 3 till this morning.

#3. Big Whiskey & The GrooGrux King - Dave Matthews Band

September Eleventh. My life changed that day. When the clock struck midnight and 9/12 was upon us, I knew my life would never be the same. I’d say there’s maybe a week or two’s worth of watershed days in my life. There I was, at one of the area’s more famous locations at the time when everything I thought I knew was exposed as myth. Continental Airlines Arena. September 11, 1999.


It was the first of many Dave Matthews Band shows for me – events that would define this decade in my life. In the irony of all ironies, this “ultimate college band” didn’t make my rotation till the months after I graduated college. But I would spend the next ten years making up for lost time, and then some, as I traveled up and down the northeastern seaboard in pursuit of the higher plane of existence that comes with the DMB Experience (and 6 hour tailgate).

Before “Big Whiskey”, the band had cut 3 studio albums this decade. All enjoyable in their own right. None came close to the genius of their late 90’s trifecta of Crash, Under the Table and Dreaming, and Before These Crowded Streets. Until Big Whiskey.


Before the album was finalized, the band lost founding member and saxophone great LeRoi Moore, and to a degree, the entire album is a tribute to him, right down to his nickname “Grux”. LeRoi alone was worth the price of admission to a DMB show, whether he was opening the concert with a solo for “One Sweet World” or keeping you going on an extended bridge for a long jam like “Crush” or “Jimi Thing”. His presence both in the studio and live on stage has been sorely missed. Owners of “Big Whiskey” are treated with a short LeRoi solo to start the album, titled simply as “Grux”.

Maybe it was the loss of LeRoi that forced the band to get back to basics. After three consecutive “over produced” albums, BW&TGGK brought it all back home to what made the band so damn good in the first place: Insightful and emotional lyrics that were neither judgmental or preachy combined with instrumentals that felt more organic than manufactured. The band knocked this one out of the park.

The Highlights:


-After “Grux” fades away on the album, the fellas get right down to business with arguably the best song on the album: “Shake Me Like a Monkey”. One of many, many Matthews tunes with not-so-subtle sexual references, this classic jam translates very well live on stage.

-It’s followed up by their first released single from the album, “Funny the Way It Is”. While the lyrics are a little, say, simple, taken as a whole the song is classic DMB. If you love DMB staples like “Crash” or “Satellite”, you could argue that this is the best song on the album.

-The much more mellow, tempered and deep “Lying in the Hands of God” comes next and honestly, my only real gripe is that it can disrupt the flow of the CD. It’s a petty hang-up and really shouldn’t be held against them cause I could never dream of putting such incredible words together like that. Those who really dive into lyrics, emotions and human imperfection may argue that this is the best song on the album.

-“Alligator Pie” is arguably the best song on the album. A tribute, albeit an odd one, to Matthews’ youngest daughter, violinist Boyd Tinsley is the star of the show here.

-What one could consider the best song on the album, “Squirm” is a throwback Matthews tune that would have fit perfectly on “Crowded Streets”. An introspective analysis of humanity, that also confirms Dave’s infatuation with the fact that we all came from apes.

-If you like the vintage Matthews track “Tripping Billies”, then you’ll absolutely love “Spaceman”. The beat is much different but the “Eat Drink and Be Merry For Tomorrow We Die” theme is stronger than ever. Bring everyone down to the lowest common denominator and you’ve got yourself and your partner in life, if you’re so fortunate. Everything else is ancillary. It just might be the best song on the album.

-All in all, what I have come to accept as the best song on the album, “Why I Am”. It’s Why I Am unlikely to agree. Yeah. That line does it for me. The song is the band’s formal tribute to LeRoi and everything he meant to them, everything he inspired in them, everything he taught them, and everything they miss about him. If it wasn’t such an incredible balls-out jam, it would choke you up, in particularly the closing line of the last verse: “When my story ends, it’s going to end with him. Heaven or Hell, I’m going there with the GrooGrux King”.

I’m not giving enough credit to “Seven”, “Time Bomb” and especially “Baby Blue” – all near-perfect in their own right, but honestly, I’m spent.


The only “miss” on the album is the closing “You and Me”. In all seriousness, this song sounds like it should be the opening theme to a 80’s family sitcom.

Bringing it all back home, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the Dave Matthews Band for the memories they provided me with over the last ten years; the dear moments I spent with my closest friends and family, my wife, and new friends I made along the way at the many different venues and hotel rooms throughout this quadrant of the nation. From Charlottesville to Albany, from Camden to Hershey, and smack in the belly of the beast on 33rd and 7th, the band and the people I shared the experiences with kicked my ass all decade long and I’m a better person for it.


And thank you for closing out the decade with a nearly perfect work of art (and using the word “Whiskey" in the Title)


Rest in peace LeRoi.

My 30 Best Albums of the Decade: #4

If my dear friend and former bunkmate found it absurd that Eminem was ranked higher than Bruce, I fully expect a gasket to be blown this time...

#4. American Idiot - Green Day

Poignant. Telling. Reflective. Captivating. American.

I could probably describe American Idiot with paragraphs full of one word sentences (no, really I can’t, the above took me five minutes) because the album itself conjures up many different emotions. But what gets me the most about the album in its entirety is the picture it paints of early decade America. Post 9/11. Pre-Katrina.

I first heard the title track like many other people (or, I should say “men”) – as it was included on the soundtrack for the Madden 04 Playstation game. Really, this was a stroke of genius for bands to promote their work – the song would play as you were shuffling through the game options: franchise set-up, trading, stats, schedules, everything but the actual game itself. And because Madden was more addictive than crystal meth, you’d put in your good 5 hours a day and hence, become one with the songs without even realizing it.

After about 2 weeks of playing Madden, I was like “Hey, this is Green Day. Didn’t I used to listen to them back in 1994?” Which led to “Wait a minute? Is this song actually speaking out against the masses?”

And that it was. The long story is that Idiot in its entirety is a critique of all aspects of suburban society, from the plastic entertainment options available to the easy way out solutions of prescription drugs. And fine, I’ll take that for what it’s worth at face value. The album as a whole follows the protagonist, “Jesus of Suburbia” on a long journey of unfortunate discoveries about reality. But surprise, surprise, what really hooked me with the entire disc is how Suburban America got called out on the carpet.

I mentioned earlier how many Americans selectively forget what the nation was like in 02-03: many of those chanting “Yes We Can” last year were also referring to French Fries as “Freedom Fries”. And for crying out loud. Was there ever a more petty, nonsensical, bigger display of immaturity in history? Renaming side dishes? Really? Well open a newspaper pal: France 1 – You 0.

What killed me here was being backed into having to defend France though. France versus the Cavemen was the most difficult match to watch since the Lakers and Bulls squared off in the 1991 NBA Finals.

The high water mark of the album is probably the spoken verse in “Holiday”:

Sieg Heil to the President Gasman, Bombs away is your punishment

Pulverize the Eiffel Towers, Who criticize your government

Bang bang goes the broken glass and Kill all the f*gs that don't agree

Trials by fire setting fire, Is not a way that's meant for me

In four short sentences, they manage to summarize everything that was wrong at the time, and in some cases still is:

· The propaganda tactics that would have made Joseph Goebbels blush

· The childish demonizing of France

· The rampant homophobia that’s been a stain on our search for a More Perfect Union

· The absolute intolerance for anyone who thought “Um hey…this might not be the best idea”

The most precious American value is our natural right of Free Speech, and in a time dominated by the steamrolling of Dixie Chicks albums and the unfortunate pouring of French wine and vodka down the sewer (alcohol abuse!) it was comforting to see someone take advantage of this sacred responsibility.

Like many albums, there’s some tracks that just don’t pass the smell test. “Wake Me Up When September Ends” is one of the more annoying tunes of the decade and about as useless as tits on a bull to the flow of the rest of the album. It’s deficiency is more than compensated though, from the “Jesus of Suburbia” suite, to the deeper, anthemesque “Give Me Novacaine”, all the way through the dramatic conclusion of “Whatsername”.

The album as a whole is a masterpiece coming from a very, very unlikely source. Combined with beer, “The West Wing”, and my wife’s sanity/love,I don’t know how I’d have gotten through the 1st part of the decade without it.

My 30 Best Albums of the Decade: #5

A twinbill Friday, why the hell not?

#5. The Eminem Show - Eminem

I don’t remember when exactly I had my first exposure to Eminem’s music, but I do know that by the time I did, I had already formed my opinion of him and it wasn’t too rosy. In terms of pop culture, there’s a general formula I often follow: The more coverage and exposure you get, the less talent you likely have. It’s almost like a bell-curve, and it was foolproof for the likes of Brittney Spears, Joe Buck, and anyone and everyone affiliated with or “competing’ on American Idol.

But Eminem defied the Exposure/Talent Continuum. Before even giving the music a chance, I thought he was a spoiled, whining, no-talent homophobe who sang borderline controversial lyrics simply to get notoriety and push record sales. My opinion was one based of turdlets of info from the mainstream media. Big mistake.

After slowly warming to him earlier in the decade on a song-by-song basis, a co-worker and friend burned me a copy of The Eminem Show upon it’s release in 2002. After a few listens-through, I was in absolute awe of just about every track (save for the stupid skits, a disturbing but tolerable 21st century development). For the next year, it seemed everyone I knew had come to the same realization as I did and this album seemed to always be on the stereo (or in some cases, they were much quicker than I to realize the man’s talent).

Taken on the surface (which is pretty much all the media bothered with) yes, the lyrics and visuals on The Eminem Show could be considered offensive, childish or obscene. However, when you take into consideration that (A) it’s the 21st Century and (B) what younglings were listening to before Eminem, you start to see the layers of genius buried beneath the unpolished surface.


Consider…


“Drips” – While it features descriptions of procreation you wouldn’t even hear in a locker room, it’s much more likely to educate someone about the perils of unprotected sex than 1950s-style health class lectures or having students carry around an egg for a week. Sure, you won’t be able to eat Sour Cream Dip for a while after giving it a good listen to, but I don’t recall spam like Brittney Spears or other early-decade best sellers warning people about the perils of AIDS. For all the campaigning Bono does, I don’t remember U2 ever telling it like it is.

“White America” – the ultimate Eff You to the hypocrites and those who prefer to put certain people and arts in certain boxes and cultural boundaries. You can break the song down line by line but there’s one that resonates and says it all: “Hip-hop was never a problem in Harlem, only in Boston, After it bothered the fathers of daughters starting to blossom”

“Without Me” – a simple ode to the media, critics and detractors. You hate me but you can’t live without me. I save you the effort of having to find something else to bitch about. You should thank me.


“Cleaning Out My Closet” – the one thing I do try to avoid is the drama about the dude and his mom and ex wife, but “Closet” is a powerful, soul searching, angry recount of the family drama that’s at the genesis of not only select songs, but his overall persona. And unlike some of his other maniacal and homicidal rants, this remains above the fray. The anger is there, thankfully, but the emotion is pure.

And my personal favorite track off the album:


“Square Dance”. A lot of people have painted over their 2002 selves through some pretty rosy revisionist history. A lot of people don’t remember the post-9/11 tension in the country, between the torch burning masses demanded the blood of all people brown, and the Fifteen Percenters who either didn’t see bombing the third world to smithereens as viable justice, or, who didn’t trust the “leadership” in place at the time to effectively execute such a plan. I remember saying to my wife “Where are the Bob Dylans? The Joan Baezes? The Byrds?”


It seemed like even music was following dehr orders in lockstep, nobody would simply call it like it was. Where was the dissent? Then there was Square Dance:


Yeah the man's back, With a plan to ambush this Bush administration,.
Mush the Senate's face in and push this generation,
Of kids to stand and fight for the right to say something you might not like

Amen Slim. Amen

My 30 Best Albums of the Decade: #6

Officially at the point where everything's a judgement call. At one point or another, I strongly considered all six of these remaining CDs to be my personal favorite of the decade. 'Twas that close.

#6. Elephant - The White Stripes

You just gotta love an album that continually kicks your ass and has you begging for more. In terms of sheer, raw, balls-out-unfiltered-kick-you-in-the-nuts from start to finish albums, I think there were only two in my life: Appetite for Destruction was one. Elephant is the other. Yeah, there’s been other albums that meet some of the criteria, but if you want to go start to finish with each track being un-skippable? This is it.

For too long, producers were getting too cute and creative, making the album about them and not the artist. Sometimes, like in the case of everything Rick Rubin seems to do, it works. Other times (cough: Glen Ballard) it comes across as disingenuous. But not with Elephant.

While “Seven Nation Army” is the most widely known track from the album – and arguably the best song of the decade, quarter century or any other marker of time you wish to choose, in my opinion the crowning achievement of the CD is “Ball and Biscuit” – a classic scotch-on-the-rocks-8-ball-corner-pocket roadhouse blues jam.

The catchy and quick “Air Near My Fingers” is one of those few songs that can get stuck in your head for days and have you not complaining about it. “There’s No Home For You Here” is just a savage asskicker.

It’s hard ranking this sixth, though I feel the same way about the pending numbers 5, 4, 3 and 2. I guess this decade’s going to be remembered for a lot of things: eight years of incompetence, The Jon and Kate saga, the Greatest Upset in Super Bowl History, the birth of Sonic in Northern New Jersey, among many others. But I’m starting to get the feeling that I’ll be looking back one day thinking how it was a renaissance of sorts of music, because despite my inherent desire to say everything new sucks, it’s simply not the case in this regard.

My 30 Best Albums of the Decade: #7

#7. Drunken Lullabies - Flogging Molly

I've already described the gift this century that was Flogging Molly, and nothing has changed in the last six weeks on that front. They're still Irish, they still kick ass. But while Float was incredible on it's own, and even though it was more widely acclaimed by those toolbags we know as "Critics", it can't hold a (Bailey's scented) candle to Drunken Lullabies.

The title track kicks off the album itself and the rest is pretty much history. Less than a second after pressing “PLAY”, you’re treated to a heavy symphony of drums, horns, bass, bagpipes, you name it. It’s also one of those tunes that reaches you personally: “We find ourselves in the same old mess singing drunken lullabies”. That’s pretty much how my Saturday nights end. But while it sounds like a simply Irish drinking anthem, it’s anything but. It kinda asks a question that’s rarely asked about the troubles in Northern Ireland (or the Middle East, Pakistan, you name it):

What savior rests while on his cross we die

"Forgotten Freedom Burns"

Has the Shepard led his lambs astray

to the bigot and the gun?

Yep. Where’s your Messiah now? Enough of my soapbox though because the rest of the album is near-perfect. Not only do they cover what’s probably my favorite Irish standard: “The Rare Ould Times”, they don’t PC it up by avoiding some less than “acceptable” language by 21st Century standards the way I’ve heard other, lesser bands do so in recent years. Written decades ago (really, I have no idea when), the song’s as meaningful today as it was way back when. In a world of outsourcing, crumbling economies and infrastructure, nobody can really go “home” anymore. I’m a fan of progress, it does more good than harm, but sometimes, to put it bluntly, progress sucks.

The album also boasts one of the 65 or so songs that I want put on my funeral playlist: “If I Ever Leave This World Alive”. Don’t ask me why, but our own mortality fascinates me. Maybe it’s an Irish thing. Maybe it’s another unfortunate side affect of a Catholic upbringing. Maybe it’s cause I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that when you’re done, you’re done. Finito, end of story cause I’m a control freak and don’t like not understanding things, so this explanation makes the most sense. Yet given that belief structure, I’m captivated by this pledge of post-mortem love and support from man to woman. What can I say; sometimes I’m a walking dichotomy.

Possibly my favorite song on the album is the rebellious anthem “What’s Left of the Flag”. I’m a sucker for songs about rebellion, in particular Irish ones. “Flag” has it all: the heavy instruments, the inspiring battle cries, and blatant insults hurled at the enemy. Side note: I’m not into “rebellion” hymns of the Confederacy though. Not in the least. It really chaps my ass that 150 years later I’ll occasionally hear “Dixie”, or that “The Night They Drove Ol’ Dixie Down” paints Sherman’s march as a borderline War Crime. Dude, you rebelled based of the principles of denying human rights (save me the “it’s not all about slavery” bullshit, I’ve heard it and you’re just whitewashing things. And Jim Crow ended any shadow of a doubt about that. Plus, we won.)

I could go on and on about each track but it’s all going to come back to the same underlying point: this album will kick your ass while making you think at the same time. And really, I can’t say that about anything else without copping to the use of illicit substances.

My 30 Best Albums of the Decade: #8

Year is running out faster than Ronan Tynan at a Seder. Need to get back on the ball, still got a lot to do. For nobody's amusement other than my own of course.

#8. Hot Fuss - The Killers

There are a couple things in life that - regardless of how often I’m exposed to them, contemplate them, or experience them - I still can’t make up my mind on how I feel about them. Hummus is one of them. Emerill is another. Same with Tom Hanks and high-end vodka. You can also add the Killers to the mix.



Five years after first hearing them I still don’t know. Talented? Lucky? Overrated? Underappreciated? Manufactured? Original? I’m clear on two things however:


1. Their second album Sam’s Town was the most disappointing follow-up album in music history since Slave to the Grind.


2. It can only be classified as such a bomb because their debut album Hot Fuss was an instant classic, despite how overplayed it may have gotten at times.


I have to credit my wife with summing it up best: “These guys sound like they’re making a John Hughes movie soundtrack.” To some that may be an insult. But people are so easily insulted these days anyway so don’t put any credence into that. Decades later (ouch. old.) the old John Hughes movie tunes still resonate, and reappear in movie after movie to the point where a whole new generation’s been exposed to them, without ever having the joy of watching the Breakfast Club or St Elmo’s Fire. OK, tangent on the incredible ability of the late John Hughes to compliment his movies with a near perfect score is over.

From start to finish, Hot Fuss is eminently listenable (one would think all albums should be, but we all know that aint the case). Sure, a lot of it is catchy, but who cares because it’s also pretty real.


Who hasn’t had their Mr. Brightside moment? Either as Mr. Brightside himself, or his cheap two-timing slutty girlfriend on the verge of jerking off another dude as she’s being disrobed, or, as the other dude. I kinda like those anti-love songs that pull no punches about how fucked up relationships can be. Save me your “I Will Always Love You” or “Miss You Like Crazy” crap. Give me a “Brightside” or a “Say Goodbye” any day of the week. Or even Motley Crue’s “Your All I Need” (yeah, google the lyrics and find out how twisted I can be)


While the whole album has a distinct sound, it’s also pretty diverse. Lead singer Brandon Flowers (who I keep mistaking for a Steelers linebacker) tries a tad too hard to sound like Jim Morrison in the opening minute of “On Top” but that doesn’t last too long. “All These Things That I’ve Done” (Known for it’s repetitive made-for-Gatorade-and-Nike-commercials chorus of “I Got Soul But I’m Not a Soldier”) is one of the better songs cut this decade.

And then you have “Somebody Told Me”, which, honestly, I don’t know if it’s a “Lola” style homage to transvestites or not, so I’m not really going to get into it and make myself sound foolish. Don’t need anymore help in that department.


Some songs take more than a few listens to really get into (“Andy You’re a Star” comes to mind). And as always, the fact that it’s an album that can either be cranked for all to enjoy, or conversely be played as simple background music also makes an enticing argument for greatness. But there’s no greater compliment one could pay an album than to say that’s fully enjoyable from start to finish, and there aren’t many albums cut in the 00’s that met that mantra better than Hot Fuss.

Molly Ringwald, Rob Lowe, Anthony Michael Hall and the gang would be pleased.

My 30 Best Albums of the Decade: #9

Been a bit behind over the last week, in a funk because I realized too late that I really did shun "The Rising", insulting it at #10. But alas, I move on. Which I'm normally not very good at but promise to get better.

#9. Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not- Arctic Monkeys

The "new album" that started my renaissance of "new albums". I was living in a musical cave for some time in the earlier part of this decade. A pre-iTunes cave. Heck, I even used to wonder what the bloody point of an iPod was. I was that caveman besmirching the need for a wheel I guess. I had a CD player. I had all my classics. Why would I sit in front of a computer, with a 3 year lifespan, and put my entire catalog on it? The entire concept sounded foreign to me.  

5 years later and I vow to never, ever, under any circumstance doubt technological improvements without seeing for myself. Never again would I be the technological equivalent of George Wallace.

I had heard a lot of great things about these Brits but that didn't really impress me at the time. I had heard a lot of great things about Hillary Clinton from fellow democrats too and she turned out to be a shallow power-hungry troll without principle. But this album delivered. So much so that at the end of 2006, I ranked it higher than some works that have yet to be accounted for in this pointless little countdown.

There's nothing too deep or special about the album, which is just a pain in the ass to continue to retype, but to put it bluntly, it's fucking fun. That's it. No more, no less. The catchy "Mardy Bum" pretty much sums up the occasional nonsense that cohabitating couples deal with, but not in an Eminem-sense where violent rage and threats of assault are the common medium of expression. Perhaps Vampires Is a Bit Strong But does a great job of capturing the annoyance of dealing with, well, people. People who want to sell you shit. People who want to control your shit. People who want to own your shit. Fake Tales of San Francisco is a lovely ode to bullshit. And there's not enough of those.

The rest of the album touches upon the same basic premises of "You Suck, Just Let Me Be", without getting too deep or too preachy. And it moves at a quick enough pace that you can throw it on while entertaining and nobody's going to get caught up in any deep bullshit or wonder if your accusing them of time-burglary (the answer is likely yes).

Is there anything special or groundbreaking about the album as a whole? No, not really. Would many people rank it this high? Doubt it. But they suck, just let me be.