"Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea" - What Others Said

“Harvey has always been sex-obsessed. But there are better things to do with sex than obsess about it--enjoy it, for instance. And though the love affair the album describes or invents may end badly--e.g., the furious "Kamikaze," or the lovely "The Mess We're In," sung mostly by Radiohead's Thom Yorke--at least it sounds like a true affair, rather more full-bodied than "Robert DeNiro, sit on my face." Harvey and her beau ideal dance and get drunk, walk through Little Italy and sit looking at the skyline from a Brooklyn rooftop. Maybe they'll fulfill the dream of the finale: "But one day/We'll float/Take life as it comes." Or maybe she'll attain that state of grace with someone else. Whatever happens, this album will be there to remind her how happiness feels.”

- Robert Christgau

“Like Bob Dylan circa Blonde on Blonde, Elvis Costello circa This Year's Model, and Patti Smith, who some people seem to think she sounds like on this album, Harvey sings with certainty about her internal life and the world around her. It's hard to keep from quoting lyrics when writing about this album, because they're so good. But flat on the screen, the words don't convey Harvey's vocal nuances in a line like "And he's the best thing/ He's the best thing/ He's the best thing/ A beautiful feeling." The way she almost whispers a word, and then lets minimal guitar notes fill the air — just a little longer than you might expect. Or sings "And when I watch you move," and then just holds that last word.”

- Michael Goldberg

“The songs on the album are taut and flawless, with the energy and intensity of her earlier songs meshing exquisitely with elegant melodies and enormous hooks and choruses. There is a sublime and seamless blend between the grimy cityscape settings of her songs and the dreamy seaside tranquility of Harvey’s home in Dorset, which is hinted at quite obviously in the album’s title. And of course, having Yorke contribute vocals on two tracks never hurts, either. But Harvey is clearly the star of the show throughout this masterpiece, easily going from the piercing, potent edge of “The Whores Hustle And The Hustlers Whore” and “Kamikaze” to the more subtle grace and splendor of “A Place Called Home” and “Horses In My Dreams.” The songs are strong and stirring throughout the entire record, without a real lemon in the bunch, and Harvey’s songwriting is simply polished and perfect. And by the time the final strains of the gorgeous “We Float” played out, I was breathless and completely blown away. This is a record that really ushered in the 21st century for me, musically, and still remains one of the most consistently stunning and impeccable albums I have ever heard.”

- Erik Thompson

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #1 - "Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea," P.J. Harvey

“Big Exit”



“Good Fortune”



“This is Love”



“A Place Called Home”



“You Said Something”



“Horses in My Dreams”

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #2 - "1000 Kisses," Patty Griffin

“An A+ record is an organically conceived masterpiece that repays prolonged listening with new excitement and insight. It is unlikely to be marred by more than one merely ordinary cut.”

- Robert Christgau

Patty Griffin’s “1000 Kisses” is one of two albums on this list (the other to be announced soon) that reaches the “A+” level, as defined by Christgau. From the first chords of “Rain” through the closing notes of the final reprise, “1000 Kisses” is an absolute masterpiece. And even though the album is short by today’s standards (right around 40 minutes), there is not a single cut on it that is less than great. Best known before this album for her songwriting skills, Griffin proves here that she is also a great singer – and Doug Lancio’s production provides her with the perfect accompaniment.

I’m not sure what else there is to say – instead, just listen.



“Rain”



“Chief”



“Making Pies”



“Long Ride Home”



“Mil Besos”

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #3 - "American IV: The Man Comes Around," Johnny Cash

"...as if that old softy Rick Rubin gently advised his fast-failing charge that if there was ever a song he wanted to sing he'd better not put it off till next time, 'cause there probably wasn't gonna be one." - Robert Christgau

You put the album on, and it doesn't take long to figure out what's on Johnny's mind:

There's a man going around taking names/And he decides who to free and who to blame/Everybody won't be treated all the same/There will be a golden ladder reaching down/When the man comes around - The Man Comes Around

"American IV" is an album steeped in death. It is an album that tells the story of a man who is ready to take the measure of his life. And even though there has been a posthumous release, there seems little doubt that Johnny knew that this would be the last album to be released in his lifetime. A collection of new Cash tunes ("The Man Comes Around"), old Cash originals ("Give My Love to Rose"), traditional songs ("Danny Boy," "Streets of Laredo"), and brilliantly chosen and sequenced covers ("Hurt," "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face," "I Hung My Head," "In My Life," others), the album is a meditation on death, and is perhaps the greatest contemplation of death any artist has ever created.

In my book, Rick Rubin deserves a special spot in the rock and roll pantheon (and the country pantheon as well!) for what he achieved with Johnny Cash in the last decade of Johnny's life. All great artists should be so lucky. Rubin is at his best on "American IV" - his technique of emphasizing simple piano chords at key moments of a song has never been used to better effect, particularly on the harrowing "Hurt" - which ceased to be a Nine Inch Nails song the moment that Johnny sang it. I remember the first time I heard it, shopping at a downtown record store - and when it came on, I froze in my tracks, and felt the goosebumps all over my body. Hundreds of listens later, that still happens. Just amazing.

So thank you, Rick Rubin. And thank you, Johnny Cash.

Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin/Six dance-hall maidens to bear up my pall/Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin/Roses to deaden the clods as they fall - Streets of Laredo

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #4 - "Magic," Bruce Springsteen

What I wrote when the album was released:

With a few exceptions, the sole focus of the media and the blogosphere has been on the album’s politics, which is disappointing to me because the politics should not have come as a surprise, and to focus on the lyrics alone ignores what I see as one of the album’s greatest triumphs – Bruce’s success (and much of that success should probably be credited to producer Brendan O’Brien) in creating a sound that is instantly familiar to anyone who has ever listened to Springsteen, but at the same time sounds different than anything he’s recorded before. The River didn’t sound like Darkness on the Edge of Town which didn’t sound like Born to Run, but that was more than 25 years ago. That Springsteen is able to pull that off at a time when he is approaching 60 is reason to rejoice.

Musically, this is Springsteen’s strongest album since Tunnel of Love, twenty years ago. It’s also his hardest rocking – we haven’t heard Springsteen songs with the frontal guitar assault of “Radio Nowhere,” “Gypsy Biker,” and “Last to Die” since the days of “Roulette.” But whether it’s that approach, or something like “Girls in Their Summer Clothes,” which sounds like it could have been recorded by the Righteous Brothers in 1965, or songs in the classic Springsteen mold like “Livin’ in the Future,” “I’ll Work For Your Love,” and “Long Walk Home” - from a musical standpoint, there simply isn’t a weak song on the album.

As for the politics: in his 60 Minutes interview last weekend, Springsteen made the following comment, one which provides the key to unlocking the theme of the album.“I would say that what I do is try to chart the distance between American ideals and American reality. That’s how my music is laid out. It’s like we’ve reached a point where it seems we’re so intent on protecting ourselves that we’re willing to destroy the best parts of ourselves to do so.”

The songs that most clearly define this theme – the distance between American ideals and American reality – are “Radio Nowhere,” “Your Own Worst Enemy,” “Gypsy Biker,” “Magic,” “Last to Die,” “Long Walk Home,” and “Devil’s Arcade.” Anyone looking to paint Springsteen as “anti-American” will be disappointed to find that there’s nothing simple here – these are complex songs, obviously the work of a thoughtful, mature person – one who clearly loves the country in which he lives, but just wishes it were better. One can debate whether Bruce’s vision of the country is naïve, or even entirely correct – very little is black and white in this day and age. And based on other comments Springsteen has made in interviews and during concerts, you can certainly accuse him of being anti-Bush – a distinction that hardly makes him unique in this day and age. But one thing you simply cannot accuse him of, without making yourself look extremely foolish, is being anti-American.

There are three of those songs that I’d single out as instant classics – songs that, right here and now, I’d be willing to say will stand in the Springsteen pantheon alongside such classics as “Born to Run,” “Badlands,” “The Promised Land,” and “Born in the U.S.A.”: “Radio Nowhere,” “Gypsy Biker,” and “Long Walk Home.”

More than any other song on the album, “Radio Nowhere” proves that Springsteen can create music in 2007 that sounds as vital as the music he recorded in 1975. You can take the song as a spirited blast against the current state of corporate radio (I was spinnin’ round a dead dial/Just another lost number in a file/Dancin’ down a dark hole/Just searchin’ for a world with some soul), or interpret the “radio” as a metaphor for the current black hole of American political discourse (Is there anybody alive out there?) – the song works equally well in either interpretation, which adds to its strength.

Ultimately, where Magic fits into the Springsteen pantheon is a question best left to history; the kind of thing that is sure to spark friendly arguments over beers for years to come. At this moment, I feel comfortable saying that it’s his strongest album since 1984's Born in the U.S.A. I hope, 23 years from now, that I’ll be able to say Magic defined an era as well as that earlier album did. You never know about these things, but I’ve got a good feeling about it.

Further comments, two years later:

- To the list of classics, I'd add two: "Girls in Their Summer Clothes," the best pure pop song he's ever recorded, and "Devil's Arcade," which I didn't fully appreciate until later.

- Ironically, for the "Magic" tour Bruce chose to make "Living in the Future" the song during which he made his strongest political statements. That's a shame, because the song is fairly weak compared to those surrounding it. The concert comments also came across as somewhat heavy-handed (and in Sacramento, were met with quite a few boos), proving that when it comes to politics, Bruce is a better writer than orator.

- I don't know if albums define eras any more, but I am comfortable with my assessment that "Magic" was Bruce's best album since "Born in the U.S.A."

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #5 - "Modern Times," Bob Dylan

Speaking of Bob Dylan...

I'm not sure what to say about "Modern Times" except to say that it represents a master at the height of his powers, clearly having a ball, demonstrating that when it comes to rock 'n roll, age really has very little to do with success.

And since Dylan is probably as well known for his way with words as he is for his musicianship, I'll give the man his due with some nuggets that pop out at you, just as you're marveling at the band or how Dylan's voice is driving the music.

Feel like my soul is beginning to expand
Look into my heart and you will sort of understand
You brought me here, now you're trying to run me away
The writing's on the wall, come read it, come see what it say

- Thunder on the Mountain

My cruel weapons have been put on the shelf
Come sit down on my knee
You are dearer to me than myself
As you yourself can see
I'm listenin' to the steel rails hum
Got both eyes tight shut
Just sitting here trying to keep the hunger from
Creeping it's way into my gut

- Workingman's Blues #2

The suffering is unending
Every nook and cranny has it's tears
I'm not playing, I'm not pretending
I'm not nursing any superfluous fears

Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Walkin' ever since the other night
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
Walkin' ‘til I'm clean out of sight

- Ain't Talkin'

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #6 - "Life'll Kill Ya," Warren Zevon

"He was so proud of that album. He told me, 'One day you and I are going to be up there getting an award, weeping too hard to be able to speak.'"

- Jorge Calderon

To say it now probably seems sentimental, but there's no doubt that in the years immediately preceding his death, Warren Zevon enjoyed an artistic renaissance the likes of which hasn't been seen this side of Bob Dylan. The album that began that renaissance, the greatest album of his long, but too short, career, was "Life'll Kill Ya."

It's the most best and most consistent album of his career, one that positively cracks with wit, humor, and a wry touch of sadness. After hundreds of listens, the album's first song, "I Was In The House (When The House Burned Down)" stands as one of the very best he ever wrote. The ones that follow, including "Porcelain Monkey," "Don't Let Us Get Sick," and the immortal "My Shit's Fucked Up," aren't far behind.

R.I.P.

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #7 - "Black Cadillac," Rosanne Cash

Rosanne Cash’s “Black Cadillac” hit me with a force like few albums before. Even today, more than three years later, it strikes me as a miracle.

Rosanne has always been one of my favorite artists, even before the days when “Seven Year Ache” put her on the map. Back in the days when I was “too cool” to listen to country music and therefore listen much to her father, there was something about her which grabbed me.

“Black Cadillac” is her best album, and reaches a level of artistry that surprised even this long-time listener. But it should have come as no surprise – she has always been a great artist, and I should have expected that the album on which she paid tribute to the three people who meant as much to her as any in her life – her father John, her mother Vivian, and her stepmother June – would have been a spectacular success.

The songs speak for themselves.



“Black Cadillac”



“Radio Operator” and “I Was Watching You”



“Burn Down This Town”



“God Is In The Roses”



“Like A Wave”

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #8 - "The Rising," Bruce Springsteen

It was early on a Sunday morning in September 1999, and I remember being annoyed that my friend Tim was calling so early. But I'm glad he did, because he was calling to drag me out of bed to go stand in line with him at the nearest BASS Outlet to buy tickets for the upcoming Springsteen concert - his first tour with the E Street Band since we'd seen him together in May 1988 - in Oakland.

Those days are a thing of the past, and now the drill is to stand at the ready by your computer, limber up your fingers, and hope that you are among the first to successfully navigate through Ticketmaster. Back then it was a more social affair - we managed to arrive in time to be somewhere around 25th in line, and were both confident of securing good tickets.The talk that morning was about the excitement of the first tour in over a decade, but also a lot of speculation about whether a new album with the E Street Band was on the way. The rumors of a new song called "Land of Hope and Dreams" had made their way across the Atlantic, where Bruce had played the first leg of what would become known as the Reunion Tour.

What everyone wondered is whether a new album was on the way - or would it be a "greatest hits" type of tour, augmented by the songs released the previous year on "Tracks?"There would be no new album during that tour, although "Land of Hope and Dreams" would close every show of it, and prove to be one of the greatest songs Springsteen had written. And in the tour's second year, several new songs started to make their way into the show, including the spectacular "American Skin (41 Shots)," the song about Amadou Diallo which proved that Bruce remained at the ready to take on the weighty issues of the day. But still, no new album.

We may never know what Bruce was planning, but in retrospect it is obvious that those plans were changed by 9/11. As Dave Marsh wrote in "Bruce Springsteen on Tour":

In September 2001, just after two airplanes crashed into New York's World Trade Center buildings and killed three thousand people, many of them from central New Jersey, Bruce Springsteen pulled out of a parking lot at the beach in Sea Bright, near his home. A man driving by rolled down his window and shouted to him: "We need you - now!"

And so "The Rising," released almost a year later, would become Bruce's 9/11 album. And a great album it is. The only reason it's this low is that Bruce made the mistake of providing us with too much music. If shortened by three songs - and for me, those songs would be "Let's Be Friends (Skin to Skin)," "Worlds Away," and "Waitin' on a Sunny Day" (and yes, I know it's become a staple of Bruce's shows ever since, but I've never understood why) - "The Rising" would probably have been #1 on this list. Because aside from those songs, the album is perfection - the anthemic title cut, the tragic drama of "Into the Fire," the utter sadness of "Empty Sky" and "You're Missing," and the life-affirming "Mary's Place."

But #8 is nothing to sneeze at.

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s: The Sprint to the Finish!

Okay, so here's the deal - I've been stuck trying to write something intelligent for #8 for over a week now, and the mental acuity just isn't there. So what I'm going to do is post one per day, leading up to #1, but don't expect much in the way of witty or insightful commentary. If it happens, it will be strictly by accident.

So fasten your seatbelts...we're about to enter the homestretch.

Top 25 of the 2000s, #9 - "Love and Theft," Bob Dylan

I was afraid to buy this album.

Dylan’s previous release, “Time Out of Mind,” was his best album in almost 25 years. It was one of the great albums of his career, and when you make a statement like that about an artist like Bob Dylan, essentially what you’re saying is that it was one of the great albums in rock history. And so it was - I would be hard pressed to name another album released between 1990 and today that matches its greatness. It’s that good.

Critical to the story (and it’s one I’ve told before, so bear with me) is the fact that very little of the original work Dylan released between 1975 and 1997 could lay claim to the greatness that had become to be synonymous with the name Dylan. Yes, there were good albums. Yes, there were great songs. Yes, I own many of those albums, and still listen to many of them today. But great? Sorry, but no.

When word came out in 2001 that Dylan would soon release a follow-up to “Time Out of Mind,” I began to get nervous. What if the prior album was an aberration? What if Dylan had really gone out in a burst of artistic glory, with nothing left to follow it up with? Did I really want to know?

“Love and Theft” was released on September 11, 2001, which gave me just one more reason to avoid it. But after the initial shock of that day had begun to lessen a bit, the reviews began to pop up – and if one were to believe them, it was clear that Dylan hadn’t slipped, that this particular “new Dylan” – only the 100th or so incarnation of his long and storied career – was around to stay. Obviously, I eventually got around to buying, and listening to, the album. And it quickly became apparent that I really had nothing to worry about – Dylan truly was back.

The breadth and depth of “Love and Theft” is astonishing. It is the work of a master at the height of his powers, an artist comfortable in every idiom that you’re willing to throw at him – rock, pop, blues, country, and everything in between. There are at least six all-time Dylan classics on the record: “Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee,” “Mississippi,” “Summer Days,” “Lonesome Day Blues,” “High Water (for Charley Patton), and “Cry a While.” The others? Well, they’re not far behind.

In the end, it was a great Bob Dylan album – good enough to be tabbed #9 of the decade.

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #10 - "Neon Bible," Arcade Fire

Arcade Fire’s “Neon Bible” announces its greatness in the first few moments of “Black Mirror,” the album’s first song, and it never lets up until the final, spine-tingling chords of “My Body Is A Cage,” 10 songs later.

Led by the husband & wife team of Win Butler and Regine Chassagne, the band takes the kitchen sink approach to many of its songs, including instruments that you wouldn’t normally associate with an “indie band” – violin and viola, cello, French horn, accordion, hurdy gurdy, and mandolin, among others. The richness and diversity of the musicianship lends the songs an epic scale, even on the slower tempo tunes. And on a song like “No Cars Go” where the tempo is fast and all the stops are pulled out, there is an almost cinematic scope to the music – it’s almost as if the band is going to leap right out of the speakers, because the stereo system simply can’t contain the music.

“Neon Bible” is incredibly diverse in its musical approach – “Black Mirror” sounds nothing like “Keep the Car Running,” which sounds nothing like “Neon Bible,” which sounds nothing like “Intervention,” which sounds nothing like “No Cars Go,” and so on…but whatever the approach, it all works. And while Butler may technically not be a great singer, his vocals lend the proceedings an urgency that is crucial to the success of the songs.

“Black Mirror”

“Keep the Car Running”

“Neon Bible”

“Intervention”

“No Cars Go”

“My Body Is A Cage”

That last moment of “My Body Is A Cage” really says it all – without doubt, one of the great musical moments of the decade.

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #11 - "Challengers," New Pornographers

So…just who are The New Pornographers?

The Wikipedia page for the band refers to them as an “indie rock supergroup,” which strikes me as a contradiction in terms. I think in this case all it really means is that every member of the band is also a member of another band. And I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never heard of any of the other bands. The most well-known band member is almost certainly vocalist Neko Case, who herself is hardly a household word. The mastermind behind the group is A.C. Newman, who is also hardly a household word, at least in the U.S. Most of the band members are from Canada, and in all honesty that just about exhausts my knowledge of the group.

So…how did I discover this band?

Every now and then, I’ll try out something that looks interesting on one of the listening stations at my local record store. They tend to put the hot new releases on the stations, which is usually a surefire guarantee that I’ll have never heard of the band. But with a name like “The New Pornographers?” I mean really – you just have to hear what that band sounds like. So I did (and this was “Twin Cinema,” the release prior to “Challengers”), and I liked what I heard. So buying the follow-up was a natural, and not surprisingly I liked it as well. Well enough to rank it as my 7th favorite album of 2007.

So…what happened between then and now to lift this record from being my 7th favorite of 2007 to my 11th favorite of the entire decade?

As it happens, I am one of the few people left on the planet who has a cassette deck (and it’s a really nice one), enjoys making mix tapes, and drives a car without a CD player. Right now, there are tapes in my car that are almost 30 years old, and I still enjoy listening to them. In recent years, after I got a 5-disc CD changer for Christmas one year, I started making tapes by throwing random CDs on the player, hitting “shuffle,” and letting the results speak for themselves. Around the time “Challengers” came out, I did the mix-tape trick with it and two other albums, “Dylanesque” by Bryan Ferry and “Traffic and Weather” by Fountains of Wayne. I played that tape a lot then, and I still play it a lot now. And with each listen, the songs from those albums began to worm their way into my brain. But especially so with “Challengers” – as I came to really know songs like “My Rights Versus Yours,” “Challengers,” Myriad Harbour,” and “Unguided,” I came to appreciate them more and more, and with each listen, the album grew in my estimation.

So…what do they sound like?

Back when I first reviewed it, I expressed difficulty in classifying the sound of the band, and to this day I’d be hard pressed to do so. Not quite power pop, not quite art rock…perhaps a bit of both. But whatever it is, I like it. But don’t take my word for it; decide for yourself:

“My Rights Versus Yours,” live on Letterman



“Challengers”



“Myriad Harbour”



“Unguided”



Add it all up, and you get #11. Which can mean only one thing – the Top Ten is yet to come!

Top 25 of the 2000s, #12 - "The Wind," Warren Zevon

I.

“Maybe a year before his diagnosis, I watched Warren on the Letterman show and I told Jorge, “You have to get Warren to a doctor right away.” Jorge says, “Why?” I said, “Because he’s very sick. Look at the way he looks.” Jorge says, “I just saw him. He’s fine.” I’m going, “Jorge, I swear to you, please.” – Yvonne Calderon, the wife of Jorge Calderon, who was the most prolific Zevon songwriting collaborator (18 songs) and the producer of “The Wind.”

II.

“I kept saying, “Warren, go to the doctor.” “Twenty years I haven’t gone to the doctor. I don’t need to go to the doctor. It’s stress. It’s anxiety. It’s the workouts. I’ll cut back on the workouts a little bit.” He kept refusing, refusing, refusing. Then he said, “Brigette, I’m afraid if I go to the doctor I’m going to find out something I really don’t want to hear.” – Brigette Barr, Warren Zevon’s manager.

III.

Press release, D.Baron media relations, September 12, 2002. Los Angeles, CA – Celebrated recording artist composer Warren Zevon, one of rock music's wittiest and most original songwriters, has been diagnosed with lung cancer which has advanced to an untreatable stage.

IV.

“He called and said, “I know what I want to do. I want to make music until I can’t make it anymore.” He said, “Do you think we can get some money from Danny?” “Absolutely.” I honestly was nervous that I wasn’t going to find the money, but then I thought, well, if I don’t find it at Artemis, I’ll find it somewhere else.” – Brigette Barr

V.

“I never thought he would have the strength or focus to do a whole album, but I was happy to pay for whatever he wanted to do. I knew it was going to be good, and I knew it was going to be the last work. All the way through, I kept being amazed that he was still writing and that he was still doing it. Every time another song would come it was like a miracle.” – Danny Goldberg, Chairman and CEO of Artemis Records, 1999-2003.

VI.

“Once he found out he was sick, the level of clarity was something: not only have I never seen anything like it, I’ve never even heard of anything like it. Before that, I don’t know how much was conscious or unconscious or coincidence, but once he got sick, man, he was focused like a laser. “ – Danny Goldberg

VII.

VIII.

“After the first songs were recorded, it got really hard. He never came back to the studio. He got very depressed, started drinking…He had started drinking before that. I didn’t know it. I found out after Letterman, when he came back from doing Letterman. And I told him, “Listen, I heard about this…I don’t blame you…but the only thing I have to tell you is watch it. Drinking on top of the pain medication that you have could be lethal. It would be a shame for something to happen before you can live out your life as long as you can.” He understood that. He said, “Oh, I just had to. I couldn’t do without it.” I said, “I understand, but please. You need to be very careful.” I was the only one around who knew what he got like when he was drunk. I didn’t blame him, but it got pretty bad. Just like the old days.” – Jorge Calderon

IX.

“The first time I was at the studio, they were doing “My Dirty Life and Times.” There’s that line “I’m looking for a woman with low self-esteem,” which he told me Billy Bob Thornton asked could he please sing that line. So, they remixed it specifically for that. I haven’t seen anybody actually write about that line yet, but at some point that’s going to be one of the line’s he’s known for.” – Danny Goldberg

X.

“He called me one night and said, “I was writing poetry and it was really bad and flowery and esoteric, but I wrote this one line, “Disorder in the house.”…I said, “That’s a great line for a rock and roll song.” He said, “See what you can do with it.” – Jorge Calderon

XI.

“December 17th of 2002 [drummer Jim] Keltner and I put the track together for “Disorder in the House” and Bruce Springsteen was coming the next day to sing on it. We started putting the track together, and we said to Warren, “You play guitar, too.” But, he was so out of it that his timing was totally bad and we couldn’t get a track. I said, “Listen, why don’t you lay off and let me do this with Keltner.” So, we put the track together, then I said, “Okay, let’s sing it.” You can see him on the VH1 documentary and he’s trying, but he had taken painkillers and he had a flask in his bag that he was drinking from. He was totally unable to do it.” I had to tell him, “There’s no use going on. Bruce can’t sing to this. Come back tomorrow and do it fresh when you first get up. In other words, don’t start drinking. Just come here and do it and then you can do whatever you want.” I said, “Bruce is going to sing on top of you. It has to be good. You can do it. I know you can do it.” He gave me that whole trip about I’m dying and I said, I know, I know, but we’re here – celebrating today. So, if you’re alive, let’s do it.” The next morning…he apologized. “I’m really sorry. You had to take me to the side like in the old days to give the ‘You’ve got to straighten up, you’re too drunk’ rap, Jorge. I wouldn’t want to put you in this position.” I said, “Don’t worry. Let’s just do it right. Bruce is coming.” - Jorge Calderon

XII.

“It was a lovely experience for me. I enjoyed being there, and he let me play a lot of lead guitar, which he seemed to get a big kick out of, and so that was fun. We spent a few hours, and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to be seeing him again. We hugged and talked a little bit. At the time, he was concerned with what kind of treatment he was going to get. He was debating…I’m not sure if it was the chemotherapy…but I remember he said, “Gee, it’s a sin not to try to stay alive.” We just hugged and said good-bye. He played me a big piece of the record, and it was quite an afternoon. But, he was different. He was fatigued. You could see that he was fighting and had been worn down. He was struggling to get the record made, but on the other hand, he was very wide open and loving. He was appreciative of where he was standing and what he was doing at that time. It was a memorable afternoon.” - Bruce Springsteen

XIII.

XIV.

“When Springsteen played on “Disorder in the House,” which was a cosmic event as far as both Warren and I were concerned, there was something so magical about the energy that he brought. When he came in, I’m all ready for him to be picky about how he wants to record the guitar, the amp, whatever. Then, all he does is turn the amp all the way up. So, after he plays, he kills the amp. The speakers are ripped and torn, and the last sounds he made are those sounds on the album. He calls Warren the next day, and we had been knocked out by it at the time. We listen to it, and it was incredible. I said, “The amp died. It was like Sir Galahad at the moment he finds the Grail. There was nothing left for the amp to do – it had achieved the highest point of amp-dom and went right up to God at that point.” Warren thought that was the greatest thing on earth.” – Noah Snyder, recording engineer/co-producer, “The Wind.”

XV.

“Then, suddenly, it was done. He was so happy and so sad, it was an amazing time to be around him. He was mostly enjoying the attention…Ry Cooder was playing on his record. He was like a little kid. Ry had blown him off on all his previous records, and this one was just a spiritual album for everyone.” – Danny Goldberg

Top 25 Bonus - Tops of the Pops, Boys Edition

“Extreme Ways,” Moby. Moby is not likely to ever make another album as great as “Play,” but his releases over the past decade were remarkably diverse and consistently good. This song may be better known as “Bourne’s Theme.”



“Lose Yourself,” Eminem. Every now and then, I think that this might just be the most exciting piece of music released in the past 10 years.



“Hey Ya,” Outkast. And then at other times, I think that this might just be the most exciting piece of music released in the past 10 years.

Top 25 Bonus: Tops of the Pops, Girls Edition

Some honorable mentions to keep the momentum going. Stay tuned...#12 is on the way.



“Since U Been Gone,” Kelly Clarkson. Never bought the album, but always loved the song. Still the best single to come out of "American Idol."



“White Flag,” Dido. From the excellent "Life for Rent," which struck me almost like an easy listening version of Joy Division - and I really mean that as a compliment.



“Hands Clean,” Alanis Morissette. From "Under Rug Swept." I first heard this song on Letterman; I had fallen asleep on the couch, and awoke to Alanis and the band playing the hell out of it. I was shocked at the time; I'm still surprised today to hear her pull this one off as effectively as she did.

Top 25 Honorable Mention: "Hard Candy," Counting Crows

Counting Crows were not what you'd call prolific during this decade. They released just two albums: "Hard Candy," which was their best since the amazing debut, and last year's "Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings," which had its moments but overall was a disappointment.

But the highlights of "Hard Candy" were as good as anything the band has ever recorded, including the title song, which they perform in this clip.

And as many fans already know, Adam Duritz went to Cal, which is always a bonus during Big Game week. He's a huge Cal athletics booster, and on occasion has even worked as a sideline reporter during football games. You can bet your bottom dollar that he won't be wearing any red this week.

Top 25 Albums of the 2000s, #13 - "Fleet Foxes"

The trend of eponymously titled albums continues with "Fleet Foxes," the band's magnificent debut album, released just a little over a year ago.

Last November 3, I wrote about the album in a post I called "How Fleet Foxes Saved Me From the Presidential Campaign." It was a rant against the banality of the then-ongoing presidential campaign, and the morass into which the public discourse over that campaign had sunk (a morass that we will probably revisit next week, when Sarah Palin's book is released). But within the ranting, I also made some reasonably intelligent (or so I think) comments about the album:

"...more than any other single piece of music I’ve listened to in the past month, Fleet Foxes has provided an avenue for escape from the insanity of this campaign. Based in Seattle, the band is probably about to hit it big, because if Rolling Stone writes a feature on you, that usually means something. The band describes its music as “baroque harmonic pop jams,” and that description is as apt as anything that I could come up with. From the first strains of “Sun It Rises,” which sound like something straight out of the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack, to the end of “Oliver James,” the album is a perfectly realized piece of music, from a band that sounds as if it has been recording for twenty years, rather than just the few that it has been together.In the Rolling Stone article, band leader Robin Pecknold makes reference to The Beach Boys and Pet Sounds, and you can hear some of that influence on Fleet Foxes, particularly in the harmonies and the falsetto singing. On some songs, particularly “White Winter Hymnal” and “He Doesn’t Know Why,” the only way to do the vocals justice is to call them breathtakingly beautiful.

Interestingly, although the band is American, the record makes me think of some British artists of long (and even longer) ago: Aztec Camera, Big Country, and even Nick Drake.The musicianship is also extraordinary, although it may be too laid back for some – think of a tight as a drum Grateful Dead, and you get the idea. There is nary a note out of place, and that might be off-putting for some. But when you’re looking to escape a poisonous atmosphere like the one surrounding the presidential campaign, I can’t think of a better alternative. The middle section of the album – “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song” through “He Doesn’t Know Why” – is probably its strongest, though right now my favorite song would have to be “Blue Ridge Mountains.”

The line I'd point to is "perfectly realized piece of music," and it's a claim that I'd stick with today. "Fleet Foxes" has that rare ability to transport the listener to another world - one where the stress and the little difficulties of everyday life just melt away. There isn't a weak song on the album, and one can only hope that the band didn't use up all the good ones on the debut. But even if that proves to be true, there will always be "Fleet Foxes" - my pick for the #13 album of the decade.

Top 25 Honorable Mention: U2's "All That You Can't Leave Behind"

When I first started thinking about this list, I would have all but guaranteed that U2’s “All That You Can’t Leave Behind” would be somewhere on it. But after repeated listens, it dawned on me that this is really not a great album, but rather a very good one that has three magnificent songs – all among the band’s very best – on it: “Beautiful Day,” “Elevation,” and “When I Look at the World.” The rest isn’t bad by any stretch of the imagination, but nor is it good enough – especially in comparison to those three – to be considered anything but high quality filler.

But – certainly good enough to merit an Honorable Mention.



“Beautiful Day”



“Elevation”

Top 25 of the 2000s, #14 - "Liz Phair"

Upon its release in 2003, “Liz Phair” was widely reviled by a vast majority of critics. And the critics didn’t stop with attacking the album – they attacked Phair herself, essentially accusing her of betrayal – betrayal of her artistic integrity, betrayal of her fans, betrayal of her debut album, “Exile in Guyville.” Some examples:

“In recent interviews, Phair has been upfront about her hopes of mainstream success, and claims full awareness that Liz Phair is likely to alienate many of her original fans. What she doesn't seem to realize is that a collection of utterly generic rocked-out pop songs isn't likely to win her many new ones. It's sad that an artist as groundbreaking as Phair would be reduced to cheap publicity stunts and hyper-commercialized teen-pop. But then, this is "the album she has always wanted to make"-- one in which all of her quirks and limitations are absorbed into well-tested clichés, and ultimately, one that may as well not even exist.”

- Matt LeMay, Pitchfork

“Now fast forward ahead ten years. Liz Phair now has a mere four albums under her belt, and today, this once-adored darling of indie rock is a mere shadow of her former self. She's left Chicago, gotten divorced, moved to Los Angeles, has taken singing lessons, and has employed some high-priced teen pop producers to help her sell albums. The resulting album, Liz Phair, is a highly overproduced, shallow, soulless, confused, pop-by-numbers disaster that betrays everything the woman stood for a decade ago, and most heinously, betrays all her original fans. In contrast to her of her infamous, audacious "flashing" cover photo for Exile in Guyvile, Phair's new album cover has her sitting, legs spread-eagled, a guitar placed suggestively between her legs, her hair stylishly tousled, looking like a cheesy Maxim photo shoot. It's an album by a woman who has completely lost touch with what made her music so great in the past; Ms. Phair has never been one to shy away from speaking her mind, and her new record is nothing more than a hearty "fuck you" to everyone who bought her first two albums, as she tries to become the next Avril Lavigne. Only, she fails at that, too, in spectacular fashion.”

- Adrien Begrand, PopMatters

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the first paragraphs of both reviews make reference to the indie success that Phair enjoyed with her debut album. That’s what really matters to both critics, and that’s why what they wrote about “Liz Phair” strikes me as so dishonest. In their own minds, they have defined what Phair was, what she stood for, and though they would probably deny it, the kind of music that she should have kept right on making. Confronted with something different (and my God, she used Avril Lavigne’s producers! Heresy!), they don’t know what to do, because ultimately the success of such a record would negate everything that they stand for.

And what’s really bullshit is the way that the latter review blasts Phair for her “stylishly tousled hair” and a “cheesy Maxim photo shoot,” when I’d be willing to be that half of the little indie punks fantasized for years about them being the ones having fun with “the blowjob queen.” The way this album was treated has always pissed me off, and it still does.

If “Liz Phair” was a crappy record, that would be one thing. But it isn’t – it’s a great record, and it can stand right alongside “Guyville” as her best work. If Phair did anything wrong, it was to stupidly say that the record would alienate her original fan base. That was like adding gasoline to the fire, and if she probably should have just stuck with something like “well, I hope they like it, but if they don’t, cool.”



“Extraordinary”



“Red Light Fever”



“Rock Me”

The other song I want to mention is "Little Digger," which Phair wrote about her young son's first encounter with her new boyfriend. How anyone in their right mind could call such a song a "betrayal" of anything is beyond me.

Believe it or not, I’m really not the only person in the world who thinks this. None other than Robert Christgau loved the album (the only major critic I’ve ever been able to find who did):

“Scandalized? How dumb. I can't explain the technical stuff, but I'd describe the Matrix's sound with Lavigne as "generalized." No matter who produced what (which since I did get all five right must mean something), that's how “Liz Phair” comes across--keybs everywhere, voice big and in tune. Only with Phair, this generalization--while definitely ambitious, tsk tsk--is also an act of love (toward Christina fans and such) and a reaffirmation of the sexual appetites she's indulged since she was exiled in Guyville, a sobriquet she devised to insult the indie world oh so long ago. Five years later, she put in quality time as a matron-artiste; now, single again at 36, she further insults the indie world by successfully fusing the personal and the universal, challenging lowest-common-denominator values even as it fellates them. You want her to express herself? She just did.”

You tell ‘em, Robert.