Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
Here are Pretty Much Amazing’s Top 75 Songs of the Decade. Below you will find the entire list with three accompanying podcasts. For our reviews of the Top 25 songs, please follow this link.
Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
Here are Pretty Much Amazing’s Top 75 Songs of the Decade. Below you will find the entire list with three accompanying podcasts. For our reviews of the Top 25 songs, please follow this link.
Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
As 2009, and the decade come to a close, PMA will be looking back at our favorite songs of the last ten years. We will update a list with 75 empty slots until we reach that song that changed everything. You can keep track of this list by keeping an eye on this page. We make these lists in hopes that you guys will chime in the comments and share your favorite musical moments of the noughties.
Naming a song the best of the decade is a bold statement, in spite of any credentials you may have. Before I even started this list, I knew that LCD Soundsystem’s “All My Friends” was my favorite song of the last ten years; and sitting here, trying to figure out how to tell you why it deserves such praise is proving to be far more difficult than I ever anticipated. It’s not a conversation I’ve ever had aloud with someone — shocking, yes, but true. However, it is one that I have had in a brief email exchange with a reader Seth Fowler. In his email, Seth asked me what my personal theme song was. Which song, through its beat, melody, or lyrics, bests represented me.
I was taken back by this question. It was so blunt and innocent and curious. I never did answer his question. I couldn’t come to terms that a single song can properly represent a whole person, especially me. I did, however, share with him, the song I felt best illustrated where I’ve been, where I am, and where I want to be. The seven minute and thirty-nine second miniature opus found in LCD Soundsystem’s Sound of Silver, “All My Friends”.
It opens with a galloping piano loop that will accompany us throughout the entire ride. Almost a minute of solid bare keys, strumming along and setting the mood. Seconds after the smooth, slippery bass-line pops its head out, James Murphy immediately snaps you out of the trance-like state you’re in with the devastating and humbling first line, “That’s how it starts”. These four words are ones that speak volumes. And what follows is deeply nostalgic. It was then, that you knew that beyond “All My Friends”‘ anthemic qualities — the pianos, the bass-lines, the drum line percusion — the song was a long sigh, an old man’s lament. “That’s how it starts”.
“All My Friends” is poetic in a way LCD Soundsystem hadn’t prepared you for. It’s brilliance is found in its honesty; its genius embedded in its insight. By this account, James Murphy is a man who can hold a mirror to his face and come up with one simple but stomach turning question: “where are your friends tonight?”
We’ve finally gone through Pretty Much Amazing’s 75 Best Songs of the Decade. Expect a podcast with our Top 25 by Monday, 1/4. Till then, have a Happy New Years Weekend!
Continue reading →
Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
As 2009, and the decade come to a close, PMA will be looking back at our favorite songs of the last ten years. We will update a list with 75 empty slots until we reach that song that changed everything. You can keep track of this list by keeping an eye on this page. We make these lists in hopes that you guys will chime in the comments and share your favorite musical moments of the noughties.
Defining something as the “Best” is such a tricky game – it’s completely subjective and invites scrutiny (see: Comments). You may, for example, think that “Idioteque” isn’t one of the best songs of the decade. You are wrong.
The song is a blissful wave, a blanket of bump and glitch that sucks you in with a simple sample of four ascending tones. Thom Yorke hides behind this curtain until about a minute into the song, at which point he sings – in that haunting voice of his – the poetry of chaos and crisis. No matter the subject, though, the song rings true. Yorke’s voice is at once forceful and feeble, managing to stuff the omnipresent beat to the back of the song. Skittering strings add to the vibe in the back, and for some reason you just…can’t…escape. Now Thom is on your right, repeating mantras in your ear. The children!
Then, as brashly as it appear, it deserts you. In like a lion, out like a lamb. And there’s a hole somewhere inside of you that didn’t exist before. A space that’s a little more empty now that “Idioteque” isn’t reverberating inside.
More than great, this track is important. Sure, plenty of artists were doing this sort of stuff before Radiohead – “Idioteque” can be traced to pioneers like Steve Reich, Neu!, and Paul Lansky (from whom the song’s sample is taken) if you want to go back that far. But here, on “Idioteque,” everything comes together cohesively. The song shows that you can be popular and crazy and different and genius and weird all at the same time, without being aesthetically pigeonholed. Newton admitted to achieving his success by “standing on the shoulders of giants.” By that process, Radiohead, and “Idioteque,” are giving piggy-back rides to most modern indie rock.
Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
As 2009, and the decade come to a close, PMA will be looking back at our favorite songs of the last ten years. We will update a list with 75 empty slots until we reach that song that changed everything. You can keep track of this list by keeping an eye on this page. We make these lists in hopes that you guys will chime in the comments and share your favorite musical moments of the noughties.
It starts with bell-like synths lightly tinkling as Andre 3000 whispers a three count. A five second lull before a five minute storm, a gentle introduction to the bombshell set to rock your brain. When the beat does drop, it lives up to the song’s title, dropping with enough force to rock a city. Yes, Outkast occasionally pauses to let you draw your breath (“Hot!”). But even if you follow the cues, “B.O.B.” will leave you breathless.
It’s a standout track on what may very well be my favorite album of the last ten years, marked by the urgency – nay, the ferocity – with which Big Boi and Andre 3k spit on the track. By 2000, the dynamic duo had been around for years (they won a Source award for Best New Rap Group in ’95) but “B.O.B.” showcased a potency on glimpsed on their first three records. More radio-friendly than earlier singles, “B.O.B.” offers itself to the masses without making concessions: the still intricate beat is broken into digestible nuggets, peppered with memorable lines, signature flows, and more than one singable chorus.
“B.O.B.” refuses to be characterized – it’s rap, it’s hip hop, it’s “pop punk music, electric revival.” But how many rap songs do you know with extended guitar solos? In comparison to the repetitive sample-heavy beats that dominate the airwaves today, “B.O.B.” is a treat, a constantly changing sonic landscape that yields more to the ear on each subsequent listen. Nearly ten years later, I can’t help hoping that this – this brilliantly packed masterpiece – is still the future of hip hop.
Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
As 2009, and the decade come to a close, PMA will be looking back at our favorite songs of the last ten years. We will update a list with 75 empty slots until we reach that song that changed everything. You can keep track of this list by keeping an eye on this page. We make these lists in hopes that you guys will chime in the comments and share your favorite musical moments of the noughties.
Love me or hate me for this, but if this list was based solely on the construction of a song, its mechanics, inside-and-out, Bloodshy & Avant (& Britney) would easily take the cake, right behind the song we’ll be talking about next. But today, they will just have to settle for #4.
Plainly speaking, “Toxic” is pop song craftsmanship in its most perfect form. Period. In a brisk three minutes and twenty-something seconds, the Scandinavian producers Bloodshy & Avant pack in the most recognizable strings loop on the planet, and that out-of-this-world bass line that puts all others to shame, in an explosive, tight bundle.
Then you factor in the “media super-entity” the song belongs to. At the time of “Toxic”’s release, Britney Spears had been stripping off layers of the persona her label worked so hard to build. She had just released her most progressive and grown up fourth LP In The Zone and its production credits acted like a who’s who in pop music in the 2000s, noting everyone from P. Diddy to Moby.
“Toxic” was released just months before Britney Spears went from Pop Icon to Oh my god, that Britney’s shameless. Yes, after two years of embodying our culture’s obsession with celebrities, paparazzi, voyeurism, and all around actin’-a-fool, she rose out of the ashes with Blackout, but only as a frigid tool for studio sorcery, a ghost of the dance floor. “Toxic” was a glimpse of what the future of pop music could be with Britney Spears at its throne, but, all signs point a future without that woman. The future is all yours _________.
Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
As 2009, and the decade come to a close, PMA will be looking back at our favorite songs of the last ten years. We will update a list with 75 empty slots until we reach that song that changed everything. You can keep track of this list by keeping an eye on this page. We make these lists in hopes that you guys will chime in the comments and share your favorite musical moments of the noughties.
For the majority of this decade, Animal Collective have been breaking down barriers and reinventing their musical identity, inspiring and cultivating a legion of fans. These nearly-obsessive fans broke out in hysteria when word that Merriweather Post Pavilion finally leaked. “My Girls” was my first taste of Merriweather Post Pavilion, and what a taste it was. It had the usual bleeps and blips, but also melodies to sing along with, beats to bop your head to, simple lyrics with deeper meaning. The message is transcendent and timeless, the music is entirely modern and original.
Pitchfork, in its recent essay on the “Decade In Indie,” comments on indie music’s occasional lack of danceablility, the constant criticism at the beginning of the decade that hipster rock cannot be danced to. That mindset has certainly gone away in recent years, and with many MPP songs but most importantly “My Girls,” Animal Collective created a track that could be played to dance-happy teens as easily as it could be played to awkwardly standing-still 40-somethings. A song that could be blasted from car speakers on a hot summer day or listened to softly on headphones on a rainy one. A song that could be felt, shared, experienced. “My Girls” is a musical masterpiece, an underwater voyage (true to the album’s concept and the music video) : it’s the perfect gateway into Animal Collective’s expansive musical collection.
Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
As 2009, and the decade come to a close, PMA will be looking back at our favorite songs of the last ten years. We will update a list with 75 empty slots until we reach that song that changed everything. You can keep track of this list by keeping an eye on this page. We make these lists in hopes that you guys will chime in the comments and share your favorite musical moments of the noughties.
Unsurprisingly, an Arcade Fire song would wind up as a top 10 track of the decade. The question is: why “Wake Up”? The case could easily be made for “Tunnels,” “Rebellion (Lies),” “Power Out,” “Intervention,” you name it. So what makes “Wake Up” the defining Arcade Fire track? The sixth-best song of the last ten years?
I journeyed by ferry to an Arcade Fire concert on Randall’s Island (in NYC) a few years ago. The ferry ticket was round trip, so as Win Butler and company concluded their tour-de-force performance, my friends and I sprinted toward the small boat, trying to make sure we caught the first one back and didn’t have to wait until 1 A.M. to get home. “Headlights Look Like Diamonds” was the encore, the soundtrack to this scramble, and as we approached the ferry we found a massive line to get on. We would have to wait a while. Sad, depressed, but ecstatic about the show, we discussed how brilliant the band had been. And as the perfect emotional coda for the night, off in the distance, barely visible, Arcade Fire yelled loud enough for us all to hear: “OHHHHHHHH, OH, WOAH-AH-OH-OH.” I didn’t need to actually see the stage to know what was happening. The band was completely in sync and one of the best songs of all-time was softly ringing in my ears.
“Wake Up” is an epic that can lift you up when down, fill your heart with happiness when it needs it, give you that kick, that sense of urgency to get going. Arcade Fire is known as both an important band and a band that revels in their own self-importance. No song feels more important than “Wake Up,” pushing for young people, the same people who fueled the indie rock movement the band captivated, to wake the hell up.
Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
As 2009, and the decade come to a close, PMA will be looking back at our favorite songs of the last ten years. We will update a list with 75 empty slots until we reach that song that changed everything. You can keep track of this list by keeping an eye on this page. We make these lists in hopes that you guys will chime in the comments and share your favorite musical moments of the noughties.
How do you introduce a song like “Wolf Like Me”? How do you introduce a band as polarizing as TV on the Radio? There is so much to say, but I will keep this as succinct as possible.
The music emitting from your headphones (oh, you better be listening to this with headphones on… unless you’re in front of a stage) is gripping, your attention is surrendered to these men for the remainder of the song’s four-plus minutes, longer if you’re spinning the engrossing and vital Return To Cookie Mountain.
This music is thunderous and alive, it has a mind of its own and it has a mission. It’s mission is to show you the world through the eyes of TV on the Radio. Before this, the world was linear, flat. Listening to “Wolf Like Me” is like seeing the world through a wide-scope lens for the first time. Within seconds, you’re consumed by the three-pronged attack of static, bass and, most importantly, soul. That soul of Tunde Adebimpe and his beautiful, gospel-tinged voice of his blast through the track, but by then you’re lost in it entirely.
“Wolf Like Me” is a beast. A rare beat, at that. It’s challenging and experimental, but less so than TV on the Radio’s previous work. It bears a sweet familiarity lodged in its near-subversive roots in New Wave and Soul music. Best of all? It can fill the dance floor.
Artwork by Adam Sarpalius
As 2009, and the decade come to a close, PMA will be looking back at our favorite songs of the last ten years. We will update a list with 75 empty slots until we reach that song that changed everything. You can keep track of this list by keeping an eye on this page. We make these lists in hopes that you guys will chime in the comments and share your favorite musical moments of the noughties.
One morning in late-September of 2003, I woke to my television on and tuned to MTV. (I must have been watching Real World/Road Rules Challenge the night before, the only reason to watch MTV at the time.) I turned over at saw Outkast’s Andre 3000 in eight incarnations, joyfully paying homage to the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show. I listened in my semi-stupor, and as I turned over to fall back asleep I thought, God, I love this song. Only later did I realize I had never heard it before. Continue reading →