Too Early for Nostalgia, Too Late for Anyone to Care
Here are 13 of my 16 favorite songs from 2004. You’ll note the long dry spell before and after. This is officially incomplete and unpublished before the mid-06 PCR blog switchover.
My deepest gratitude to Eliana R.
1. “This Will Be Our Year” | OK Go | Future Soundtrack for America | Barsuk | 8/17/04 | 2:04
OK Go is a Chicago-area band specializing in bubblegum melody over AC/DC-slash-Cheap Trick-slash-Queen stadium-oriented rock. A wonderful formula, but there’s generally a certain something (as the Freedom say) missing from the songwriting, and the result is that they get wearying over the course of a record but sound great in small doses (for instance, between Good Charlotte and Andrew W.K. on Madden 04).
So seeing that they’d been tapped to cover one of my favorite songs, an absolutely beautiful Zombies number, worried me. It turns out that they cooked up a bass-heavy moderate-rock take that was suitably subtle to capture my heart. A great reminder to keep your ears open for the unexpected.
2. “Float On” | Modest Mouse | Good News For People Who Love Bad News | Epic | 4/6/04 | 3:28
On the face of it, this is the “unlikely” indie rock breakout of the year. Except that Isaac Brock & co. kicked out a top-rate summer jam. As one might expect from art birthed out of alcoholism, mental illness, and bitter strife, “Float On” may be the best kind of inspirational we can hope for: sonically carefree but with a dark heart to its message that things’ll end up alright, so we might as well meet bad news with a shrug.
On a side note, as one of Jamaican extraction (I was extracted from my mom in 1976, then extracted from the island in 1978), the mention of a Jamaican, even a “fake” one who’s a ripoff artist, resonates with me. Backa yaad they call such shysters “ginnal-mon.”
3. “Take Your Mama” | Scissor Sisters | Scissor Sisters | Universal | 5/4/04 | 4:31
Musically, this song is the perfect fey pop Frankenstein. It’s got a Latinate beat meaty enough for dance clubs, bouncy acoustic-guitar and groovy bass that could’ve been stolen from a Faith-era George Michael b-side, a buried glam guitar lead, and a melody and vocal performance straight out of prime Elton John (the oft-referenced ideal reference point for these guys). Maybe best of all, lyrics that, on a casual listen, sound like a cheeky schoolyard snap are actually a tribute to the not-so-good life and a plea for intergenerational understanding.
4. “Wetwork” | Q and Not U | Power | Dischord | 10/5/04 | 3:18
Speaking of taking it to the disco, last year the usually sparse and enigmatic indie rockers from Q and Not U perplexed many, but delighted many more, by putting together the closest thing to a Justin Timberlake album ever released on the label that Minor Threat built. Can I get some falsetto, some limber-limbed funk guitar, and some synth bass? Yes, I can. Even the libretto’s a little more straightforward than usual—something about surprising moments of beauty between the mundane and the tragic.
5. “Walking To Do” | Ted Leo & the Pharmacists | Shake the Sheets | Lookout | 10/19/04 | 3:38
Speaking of folks with a D.C. punk pedigree, in 2004 Ted Leo and his happy, hairy band of pirates put together another fucking great record, such that it was tough to pick out one standout track. I defaulted to the album closer, a peppy, strolling tune about, well, walking. It always gives me a happy in the heart.
I’d bet dollars to doughnuts (mmm, doughnuts…) that when Señor Leo penned this song he had city planning, a confessed pet topic, on his mind. But “Walking To Do” always makes me think of those early days in a love relationship when even making plans or taking a trip to visit your paramour brings a sort of giddy thrill with it, spending that time in sweet anticipation of seeing her face and of all the awesome things you’ll do together.
On a side note, there’s a number of neat lyrical name-checks in here, and my favorites are the references to “the tube” (in light of Leo’s mod ways and reverence for the Jam) and to Shibuya, a Tokyo tech district. Say it with me, “Shibuya.” It’s fun to say.
“Shibuya.”
6. “Knuckles” | The Hold Steady | Almost Killed Me | French Kiss | 3/16/04 | 3:46
Craig Finn would be at the top of the gutter-poet pile if that label seemed appropriate for him. Maybe it’s because he looks like an engineer. Maybe it’s that head-cold rap-sing vocal delivery. Or maybe it’s the mixture of the sublime, the ridiculous, and the over-the-top in his songs. But somehow I’ve always assumed that his alternately hilarious and heartbreaking dispatches from the low-life are either sprung whole from his imagination or a reflection of an ill-spent youth since reformed.
Anyhow, when he and Tad Kubler inaugurated their post-Lifter Puller musical activities, they traded in a jittery, angular (there, I said it) indie rock boilerplate for loping classic rock. (Some accounts of the genesis of the Hold Steady have them starting out as an AC/DC cover band.) Finn’s lyrics, on the other hand, have taken the same course as the junkie who moves cross-country to get away from a bummer scene, only to fall in with the exact same kind of people.
So gone are the doomed raver, the Eyepatch Guy, Jenny the libertine sorority girl and the rest of the cast of characters from the Nice Nice. They’ve been replaced by meth-cooking militia men and some guy who thinks it’s cool to brag about the murders he’s actually never committed. And that fun old formulation “his name is _____, but people call him _______” is pushed to the front here, on its way to being exploded over the course of Almost Killed Me.
7. “Linda Blair Was Born Innocent” | The Mountain Goats | We Shall All Be Healed | 4AD | 2/3/04 | 2:45
Speaking of dispatches from the low life, “Linda Blair” comes off John Darnielle’s journal-dregging concept album about the desperation of a band of Inland Empire speed freaks as the clock strikes midnight. My misgiving here is the “empty hearts on fire/hungry for love/ready to drown” part—as close to unfiltered cliché as Darnielle comes, even if it points back to the afore-mentioned clock-running-down desperation. But then he intones, “you may not like Tate’s methods/but you gotta admit she’s a real nice kid,” a concise nugget of genius if there ever was one, so we can give him a pass, right? And partner-in-crime Peter Hughes cops some awesome New Order bass moves in slow motion, which is alright by me.
8. “Come Crash” | A. C. Newman | Slow Wonder | Matador | 6/8/04 |3:02
This year the main dude from the New Pornographers stepped out on his own and stepped away from that groups everything-turned-up-to-11-all-the-time aesthetic to produce a sonically nuanced collection of ace pop tunes (chewy tunage being something you can always count on from him and his cohorts). “Come Crash” sits gracefully in the space between the understated and the epic, a closing-time invitation for a little communion between the chronically disappointed.
9. “Twilight” | Elliott Smith | From a Basement on the Hill | Anti- | 10/19/04 | 4:29
The posthumously completed FABOTH was described prior to release as bridging the gap between Elliott Smith’s early home-recorded solo work and his lush major label recordings. If you buy that, “Twilight” falls pretty clearly in the former camp. It could be an outtake from Either/Or, if you hold aside that the acoustic git is strummed rather than ringing out with intricate finger-picking. Either way, this is the Elliott Smith that so many of us fell in love with: hushed and sepia-toned, but with a steely spirit that’s a remnant of his punk rock past.
The misgiving here lies in the overly familiar refrain, “I’m already somebody’s baby.” (Incidentally the Good Will Hunting soundtrack, which brought Smith’s work to a remarkably wider exposure, contained “Somebody’s Baby,” a Jackson Browne cover trussed up in yacht-rock-meets-New-Wave finery, whose chorus expressed a similar sentiment.) The difference here is the world-weighted wistfulness that permeates this ode to mixed emotions. It’s a snapshot of wanting what you can’t have, as told by a narrator who knows what it’s like when the only thing you can get right is the timing of your medication.
10. “Broke The Furniture” | Earlimart | Treble & Tremble | Palm Pictures | 9/28/04 | 3:28
Speaking of Elliott Smith, in 2004 his friend Aaron Espinoza released a record that could pass for the lost E.S. album. On “Broke The Furniture” he’s nailed the whispery vocal style and the penchant for using the Trojan Horse of a softly-sung pop tune to sneak in feelings of utmost turmoil, in this case a moment of breakup-induced psychosis. He even copped the George Harrison fetish Smith displayed on 2000 release Figure 8.
This is not, however, musical grave-robbing. Rather it’s a heartfelt expression of grief and tribute, imitation being the sincerest form of requiem. Even so, the emulation would stick in the craw a helluva lot more, but on T & T the songwriting simply works, and the record is eminently listenable, kind of comforting.
11. “Evil” | Interpol | Antics | Matador | 9/28/04 | 3:35
I can’t make it all the way through Antics. This problem is borne of vague boredom and indifference rather than distaste or complaints of their ripping off any number of late-70s through 80s British guitar bands. It just seems kinda samey and at worst kind of a drag. I’ll admit that I haven’t given the record a real chance, and my opinion on this is subject to revision.
That said, the Interpolistas have again won me over some by including an ace single, “Evil,” early in the track listing. With its bouncy bassline and runon sentence verse, it simply sounds more fun, for the band and the audience, than anything else in their repertoire. With the title and the ominous tone of the lyrics, I’m sure this song is about heavy stuff, man, but I’m in it for the fun.
On a side note, I once saw a flyer for a guy starting a band that included “Inner Pole” amongst desirable influences. This is mighty revealing with regard to my juvenile sense of humor, but that’s frickin’ hilarious.
12. “Takoma The Dolphin Is AWOL” | Mae Shi | Terrorbird | 5RC | 7/27/04 | 1:29
The luxury of not, say, writing this stuff for an online zine (with a pesky code of ethics) is that I can give propers to my friends. So here I present a scene from When Animals Refuse to Attack as told by my favorite band from Los Angeles. In the interest of disclosure, these guys are all friends of mine.
With that business out of the way, let me offer my unreserved recommendation for Terrorbird, the album that remixes itself, supreme spazz rock short-attention span theatre, party music for the endtimes. This particular chunk digs into the true story of the mine-seeking dolphin that went Free Willie. From the dolphin’s point of view. Protest music. Feel it.
13. “Fading Vibes” | Les Savy Fav | Inches | French Kiss | 4/20/04 | 3:58
OK, a little more cheeky track ordering from yours truly, since my pals in the Mae Shi were minorly dogged by comparisons to Les Savy Fav, based on one track off their debut EP they don’t play live anymore (maybe never have, my memory fails me).
Normally I don’t include reissues as part of the “best of the year” for reasons I don’t think I need to get into, so I’ll note here that Inches collects a bunch of limited-edition singles that span most of LSF’s career. The point being, I guess, that how many people got the opportunity to hear these songs the first time around? And anyway, the matter at hand, “Fading Vibes,” is a b-side released in February 2004. Anyway, the song is all whip-smart lyrics about death (“Let’s try to stay soft/remember to bend/the chance to get supple may not come again/for in time/you will find/rigor mortis sets in”), over blaring Pixies-damaged guitar and some party-hard rhythm work. What more could you want?
