Check out what was hitting for me in 2005. Spoiler alert: It was mostly heavy metal, hip hop and cartoon characters.
Against my better judgment, I’m undertaking a project to determine my top 10 albums of every year since 1960. Instead of just picking my favorite stuff out of my collection, I intend to explore, re-visit and discover. While I can’t promise to leave no stone un-turned, I am going to go deeper than I ever have before. Why would I partake in a journey that will inevitably take many years and that I ultimately may never finish? Most importantly, to uncover great music that I’ve never heard before. Second, to boost my knowledge of music history and get a sense of what was happening at a macro scale in a snapshot of time. Finally, I want to share my passion for music with you and, fingers crossed, generate a dialogue down in the comments. So without further ado, here is #28 in the series. My random number generator says that our next year to tackle will be 1971.
Check out my previous entries here.
The Greatest Albums of 2005
The questions I am asked the most by people who are familiar with this blog are “What’s the best year of music?” and “What is the worst year of music?” They are natural questions to ask, especially if you want to politely engage with your friend’s weird hobby, and I have no problem offering my opinions as such. Of course, they are just opinions, and while I may be uniquely qualified to opine on these things due to the volume of music I consume to produce these lists, I imagine most everybody would have different answers even if they had put in the same amount of work. It’s important to remember how subjective this all is, and as I sat down to mildly discount the music scene of the mid-2000’s in my intro to this post, I started wondering what personal biases might be influencing those thoughts. In my mind, the 2000’s are largely a decade in which music lacked a real identity. There are outstanding albums, and I wouldn’t say this top ten is of below average relative quality, but the music I have listened to so far from 2003-05 just feels like a jumble of unrelated stuff compared to, say the early 60’s or even the late 2010’s. That being said, I had a lot going on at the time. Over that three-year span, I got married, bought my first house, and had my first child, so I certainly wasn’t maintaining the same level of connection to the music scene that I did in high school or college. Is this transitional period in my life the lens I’m applying which causes me to perceive the music of the time as largely transitional as well? I don’t know, man, I’m a music nerd not a psychologist, but I have to consider the possibility that someone who was 17 in 2005 might consider it the apex of musical achievement. I guess what I’m saying is go find their music blog if you want in depth insight into the importance of the mid-2000s to the landscape of popular music, because I got nothing. On the other hand, if you just want to hear about some good damn albums, let’s go.
Demon Days – Gorillaz
If the Neptunes were the world’s greatest record producers at the turn of the century (following RZA’s brief reign at the top), the mantle had shifted to Danger Mouse by the mid-2000’s. The Neptunes will probably go relatively unrepresented in this project because the artists they supported rarely fall into my wheelhouse. Danger Mouse, on the other hand, has a history of producing content that speaks directly to me. He pops up on this list twice in the top five, and he has a shot at being the most decorated individual musician of Found or Forgotten by the time the series is finished. Demon Days may be his masterpiece. Since Gorillaz are cartoon characters and not a real band, the entire album was helmed by two people, DM and Damon Albarn, the mastermind behind the fictional musicians. The task that Albarn set out for Danger Mouse was pretty daunting – piece together this wild mélange of styles and cameos into something resembling a cohesive work of art and top the highly successful efforts on the previous Gorillaz album by Dan the Automator, himself a super-producer of great renown. It turns out that Danger Mouse was up to the task. Blending rock, dance, electronic, pop, hip hop and industrial elements, the songs somehow manage to flow together into something that sounds akin to a concept album, even if there is no unifying concept to speak of. The movement in the music is astounding, not only across the album but within individual songs. Demon Days must be my great aunt Ruth because it’s bridge game is on point. If it had no other merits, it would be worth a listen simply for the sonic smorgasbord laid out by this genius producer at the height of his powers. Fortunately, it has many other merits as well.
Beneath the sonic wizardry of Danger Mouse, Demon Days is simply an exceedingly well written record. Albarn somehow channels the energy of prime Daft Punk and threads it together with the expressive melodies of the Kinks. It is funky and propulsive but also graceful and canorous. Despite the emphasis on production that skews dance/hip hop, I feel like the songs could be performed on a piano and acoustic guitar. It would be a very different album, but it would still be a success. Albarn also had some incredible tricks up his sleeve when it came to choosing his collaborators. Aside from DM, the tracks are littered with various personalities perfectly cast to their strengths. Del tha Funkee Homosapian stole Gorillaz’ first album with his guest spot on “Clint Eastwood”, but De La Soul may have topped him with the crazy energy they bring to “Feel Good Inc.” That song never fails to brighten my mood whenever I hear it. Roots Manuva, Bootie Brown (of Pharcyde) and especially MF Doom also contribute felicitous verses that feel miles apart from the typical alt rock/hip hop crossover cash grab. Dennis Hopper makes an unexpected appearance reciting an apocalyptic, and appropriately simian, tale that reminds me of Charles Mingus’ spoken word masterpiece, “The Clown”. Even the London Community Gospel Choir turns in a mesmerizing performance to help bring the album to an epic conclusion. Sometimes when I’m deep into exploration for a post, and I’m on a stretch where everything starts to run together, it can feel like all the good ideas have been exhausted and I’m never going to come across anything new to get excited about. Demon Days stands in sharp contrast to that notion, a beautiful monument to boundless creativity that reminds me of all the possibilities yet to be realized.
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Z – My Morning Jacket
My Morning Jacket are hard to pin down. Through the 2000’s, at least, their sound was in a constant state of flux. They entered the decade as a stoner-folk band, transitioning into full-on Southern rock for 2003’s It Still Moves. 2005’s Z combines both of those ingredients, but also elements of pop and soul as well. It stands to this day as their most fully realized statement, an almost perfect high water mark before Evil Urges in 2008, where their muse finally got them in trouble with too much disjointed experimentation. If I were pressed to assign them a label, it would likely be Americana.* They perform an amalgamation of seemingly every form of music originated in America prior to hip hop. In that way, they are a bit like the Grateful Dead, albeit one that filters their work through the lens of their Kentucky roots rather than San Francisco ones. The band unifies their various influences through a sound that is bright, crisp and Southern-fried, whether it is the dual guitar attack of “Laylow”, the delicate balladry of “Knot Comes Loose” or the psychedelic soul of “It Beats 4 U”. Another unifying element is the voice of Jim James. He is a tricky one to pin down as well, a talented crooner that is consistently willing to reach beyond his ability. I have heard him perform “Wordless Chorus” live, which has a high degree of difficulty, and crush it. Yet, in another Dead parallel, he seems content to turn in vocal takes that are awkward and off-key, almost as if it’s a stylistic approach. Certainly there are beloved indie rock acts fronted by mediocre singers, but with James I can’t tell if he’s mediocre or great. Either way, he is the soul of the band, and his heartfelt singing of sharper than average lyrics helps drive Z into a higher echelon. So do unconventional and thoughtful rhythms coupled with scorching guitar work, making this a complete effort from the entire group. I sometimes feel on an island with my MMJ love, but Z is the album I am confident that anyone can enjoy regardless of what type of music they prefer. Chances are, it’s encapsulated in there somewhere.
* Of course the term Americana has been appropriated to relegate legitimate country music artists to their own, ignored category, so that the twangy pop that passes for Country doesn’t have to compete for attention with music of actual merit.
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From Mars to Sirius – Gojira
Heavy metal has a spotty relationship with the bass guitar. Sure Geezer Butler and Cliff Burton were integral to the sounds of their respective bands, but in general, the 70’s and 80’s were all treble all day when it came to metal, particularly in how the albums were engineered. It wasn’t until the 90’s that producers started giving some more attention to the bottom end, and acts like Meshuggah and Korn made it a focal point. I’m pretty ignorant to the finer points of music production, and I’m certainly not the foremost old white dude on the internet when it comes to heavy metal opinions, but something about Gojira’s bass tone makes them really stand out to me. Not even specifically what Jean-Micheal Labadie does on the instrument, but the way that his sound combines with the concussion grenade drumming and relentless, piston-like riffs gives their music the gravity of a dying neutron star. It’s the first thing you notice when you play From Mars to Sirius, and it is pretty unrelenting the whole way through, no matter how many quiet passages with whale sounds they include. It’s no coincidence that they have a song titled “The Heaviest Matter in the Universe”. Yet, the heaviness is far from the only thing on offer. The band has a sneaky ear for melody, and a very obvious ear for the tenets of progressive metal (odd time signatures, clockwork precision, crazy transitions). Everything combines to make a captivatingly unique take on the genre, without sacrificing any of the parts that let you know: This Is Death Metal. That uniqueness extends to the lyrical content, too. The album tells the story (as far as I can gather) of benevolent alien flying whales that guide our protagonist to a new world to replace the dead one he is on, only to have his species ruin that one too. You shouldn’t need the tip-off of the final track’s name (“Global Warming”) to get the allegory. And perhaps that’s the most fun thing about Gojira. Here are these French, vegan* eco-warriors and they make the most brutal, technical, heavy music about the shit they are into. You gotta love that.
* I have no idea if Gojira are vegan, and I have nothing against vegans in general. They are definitely vegans, though, right?
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The Mouse and the Mask – Danger Doom
I’m writing this mere hours after learning that MF Doom has passed. He died on Halloween, but his family just released the news on New Year’s Eve. Reflecting on his legacy, it was always clear that he would never have a following commensurate with his immense talent. He was too odd, too verbose, almost too brilliant to receive widespread accolades. He also seemingly took steps to confound his own success. Rapping behind a mask (and occasionally sending out stand-ins to perform as him amid some controversy), adhering to no consistent release schedule (I guess we’ll never get that long-promised Ghostface collabo now), even dropping albums under a myriad of different names – all moves that would make it impossible for him to gain traction outside of hip hop circles. Yet, as Q-Tip tweeted upon hearing the news, Doom was your favorite rapper’s favorite rapper. I immediately thought of this video of Mos Def, clearly blazed, talking about Doom to Questlove with an almost awed reverence. It’s no surprise, either. Daniel Dumile crafted his lyrics with a maniacal focus on every syllable. No one ever maximized their verses in terms of rhyme patterns as well as he did, giving his raps a crazy density that takes multiple listens to unpack. That quality also makes his flow stilted and staccato, another barrier to audiences expecting an emcee to ride the beat in a less distracting manner. If there is a gentle slope into the MF Doom deep end, however, it is most likely The Mouse and the Mask. A collaboration with Danger Mouse and the creators of Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim shows, the album is a confluence of like-minded artists just getting weird. Fans of Adult Swim’s puerile surrealism (purrealism?) will have no trouble finding purchase amidst the production influenced by Saturday morning cartoons and 70’s blaxpoitation or Doom’s stoner stream of consciousness flows that are lyrically invested in the program block’s various characters, not to mention cameos from the voice actors, the best of which being a runner where Master Shake (Aqua Teen Hunger Force) leaves a series of increasingly apoplectic voicemails angling for a guest spot on the album. Even if you aren’t familiar with Adult Swim, it still works as a type of concept album populated with zany characters ala Parliament’s late seventies output. Lest it all sounds like a silly joke, Doom is on his lyrical game here, and even finds ways to sneak in rhymes of substance, such as when he and Talib Kweli trade verses that tackle the absurdity of gunplay being considered an integral element of hip hop. In that vein, here is Doom himself on his rap origin story, a far more fitting tribute to the man than I could provide (albeit in his own, inimitable, practically indecipherable way):
Ha ha ha ha! The super flow with more jokes than Bazooka Joe A mix between Superfly Snuka and a “Super Hoe” Chew a MC like El Chupa Nibre Digest a group and sell the poop on eBay Danger with the vest screamin “Shoot the DJ!” DOOM clickin over two chickens, three-way Four in the 5, a cork on the freeway Villain find a way to make ’em pay whatever we say State your intentions “I really love your tape but I hate your inventions” Very well – what you want, a brownie? He took off the mask and whispered “Put me where you found me” He kept his paper digits in a chunk Once joined a rap clique – Midgets Into Crunk He did a solo on the oboe Coulda sold a million then the Villain went for dolo And cited creative differences Basically they hated, he left no jaded witnesses Rappers suck, when they spit I doubt ’em The crap they sing about you wanna slap the fuckin’ shit out ’em
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Illinois – Sufjan Stevens
Some great albums are clearly the result of a massive amount of forethought and intricate construction – The White Album, Pet Sounds, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back. Others seem to be the result of divine inspiration, or whatever your version of that is – Inner Mounting Flame, Astral Weeks, Kind of Blue. It is rare for an album to encompass both, but Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois is the perfect example. Famously based on the history of the state that it is named after, there is no doubt that Stevens conducted a load of research in order to put this album together. He references famous people born in or associated with the state (e.g. Abraham Lincoln, Illinois congressman; Carl Sandburg, Pulitzer prize winner and Lincoln biographer, born in the state), famous events that occurred there (e.g. alleged UFO sightings; the World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893), and cities either residing in Illinois or inspired by Illinois (Decatur; Chicago; Metropolis, a supposed Chicago stand-in). It is a meticulous composition, with each note judiciously arranged to bring his vision to life. Stevens performs no less than 28 individual instruments on the album, and because that’s obviously not compulsive enough, makes room for more than a dozen additional contributors including a full choir (it was a good year for choirs). It is hard to believe an individual musician could prepare more vigorously for the production of a record, and you’d be forgiven for reading all that and thinking it sounds like the squarest, least fun endeavor in the history of pop music. And yet… somehow it is the most welcoming, most heartfelt, most charmingly idiosyncratic album of the decade. It’s as if Stevens took all the ingredients for the world’s most tedious musical book report, and somehow fabricated something magical with them. To put a finer point on what the degree of difficulty was here, the album’s most beautiful, delicate songs, amidst an unprecedented flurry of delicate beauty, are about a girlfriend dying of cancer and serial murderer John Wayne Gacey, respectively. You can’t help but believe that there was a higher power at work in the creation of Illinois. That belief is even more stark when you regard the rest of Stevens’ catalogue – fine records one and all, but none of them that remotely captures the glory of this, his finest achievement.
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The Minstrel Show – Little Brother
The mid-2000’s weren’t a particularly stellar era for hip hop. The entire decade, in fact, is pretty easily the worst in the genre’s relatively short life span. Particularly in the mainstream, rap’s rise in popularity had led to commercial decisions outweighing artistic ones. Yet, there are plenty of gems hiding beneath the diamond-encrusted, shiny-suited surface. The Minstrel Show is no less than a lost classic. Even compared to releases by underground acts like MF Doom and Edan, this one has seemed to fly under the radar to serious and casual fans alike. I have to imagine that has something to do with the album title. During a time when Lil’ John and the Yin Yang Twins were topping the charts, a record that so blatantly references minstrelsy was simply not going to do that well with black or white audiences. Bluntly, minstrelsy was selling, but that didn’t mean anyone wanted to confront it in those terms, especially the people who were spending or making money on it. Yet, without the framing device of a program on the tongue-in-cheek UBN (“U Black N*****s” network), I think the album would have had a healthier following. Little Brother are hardly militant in their stance, and the material here is generally good natured in its satire. Even R. Kelly’s fans would have to appreciate the hilarious skewering of his style on “Cheatin’” (performed by the fictional Percy Miracles), and nothing here feels particularly combative. The group’s true attack on mainstream buffoonery was simply offering an alternative that was heartfelt, intelligent and skillful. In fact, the single “Lovin’ It”, a bright jam that condemns lack of lyrical substance in rap, was denied play on BET for no discernable reason. The rumor was that it was “too intelligent”, but I suspect that UBN gag hit a little too close to home for the network. Regardless of the album’s commercial prospects, however, it is undeniably excellent. The production of 9th Wonder isn’t revolutionary, but provides a supple, soulful backdrop for the ruminations of emcees Big Pooh and Phonte. Both deliver in terms of craft, but it’s Phonte whose influence feels oversized to this day. I defy you to listen to this record and tell me that Drake, the biggest selling hip hop artist on the planet, didn’t pull heavily from Phonte’s flow when crafting his style. This was a new discovery for me while prepping for this post, and that leads me to believe that even the hip hop fans among you may have slept on it as well. It’s long past time to wake up and recognize what a terrific and influential album we all missed with The Minstrel Show.
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Beauty and the Beat – Edan
I use pens like hallucinogens.
The most common topic in hip hop is hip hop itself. Sure, rock music has its share of songs about rock and roll, particularly from its first few decades of existence, but nothing comes close to the ratio of rappers rapping about rap. On Beauty and the Beat, Edan continues that proud tradition with a particular zeal. One of positive side effects of this approach is that you don’t have to deal with any moral dissonance while listening to the lyrics. I have a tough time with some older hip hop given the prevalence of misogyny and homophobia* in the rhymes, and the glorification of violence in gangster rap can be problematic as well. Edan simply loves hip hop, and presumably you do too if you are playing this record, so no need to wrangle with the subject matter (unless you are a Lenny Kravitz super fan**). Whether it’s the hip hop history lesson “Fumbling Over Words that Rhyme” or the surreal rumination on the power of wordplay to paint pictures, “Beauty”, Edan and his guests keep it on subject. He is a solid emcee, for sure, but its really his production approach that shines. Clearly a student of psychedelic music, he brings the swirling daze and numbing haze of acid rock over his crushing beats. It is a refreshingly unique foundation for a hip hop album, and it has gained a reputation as an underground classic over the years. I also think that it is a great entry point for rock fans to try out hip hop, because the reverb-drenched crunchiness is such a departure from the typical funk and soul-based sound that you typically hear in the genre.
* Upon closer inspection, the album is not entirely free of hateful epithets, so take this with a grain of salt.
** Edan saves a particularly pointed and savage takedown for Kravitz on one of the tracks. He isn’t altogether wrong, but it feels pretty out of left field when you hear it the first time.
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Frances the Mute – The Mars Volta
As I look back over my 2005 selections, it’s a pretty odd group. As I mentioned up top, whatever happened to be popular at the time just wasn’t hitting for me. Eclectic as these other albums are, however, none of them are half as wild as Frances the Mute. Progressive artists like Rush and Emerson Lake & Palmer are already divisive, and The Mars Volta sounds like Rush in the midst of a month-long amphetamine bender. I can imagine exposure to their brand of amped-up prog metal being plain tortuous for some listeners. I tend to enjoy their releases, partially because there is simply nothing else I’ve come across that sounds like this, and partially because there is a lot going on, musically, beneath the abrasiveness. Even when they are being full-on Mars Volta, their melodies and song structures are always sturdy enough to hold up to the careening instruments and frenzied vocals. Additionally, they are capable of swerving into some unexpected corners, like the suave Latin grooves of “L’Via L’Viaquez” or the nearly free jazz portions “Cassandra Gemini”. The one thing for sure is that none of this is built for passive listening. They will command your attention, even if you have no idea what they want it for. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about what Frances the Mute is about, just that it is apparently urgent. I’ve long given up on trying to parse the lyrics of Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, and none of the titles of the tracks here lead me to believe that I should reconsider that approach. What is prog-anything, though, without nutty lyrics describing obscure sci-fi concepts? I don’t need to understand the specifics to enjoy the spasmodic, bombastic whole, and you shouldn’t let the confusing subject matter get in the way of queueing it up and figuring out if it’s up your alley or not. It shouldn’t take you long.
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Doomsday Machine – Arch Enemy
I was into heavy metal in high school, largely due to the influence of my friend group. Shortly after I graduated college in the early 2000’s, that fandom went dormant. Even after getting married to another reformed heavy metal fan, I didn’t really pick it back up again outside of the occasional nostalgia listen to Rage Against the Machine or Vulgar Display of Power. I’ve long said, partly tongue-in-cheek, that metal and rap are two sides of the same coin because they are both music for angry white teenagers. That’s incredibly reductive and has been proven mostly false in the past decade, but there is a kernel of truth there, at least for a late-vintage Gen-Xer like me. Yet my hip hop fandom never waned since the days of listening to Run DMC and the Beastie Boys in third grade, so what caused the heavy metal sabbatical? It’s hard to say, but I can happily report that I am back on the metal bandwagon, and I’m probably a bigger, or at least more genuine, fan than I was at sixteen. That’s the main reason I look forward to these post-2000 lookbacks – to discover all the metal that I neglected during that time. Now, I don’t have a huge frame of reference for the evolution of the artform during this period, so I don’t know whether Doomsday Machine was pushing the genre forward or not. I tend to guess not, as I can hear familiar elements of previous artists like Megadeth and Fear Factory in the music, and nothing particularly novel. Yet, it is one of the three metal records that spoke to me the most from 2005. I’m on record as being kind of down on death metal vocals, and the fact that Arch Enemy is fronted by a pretty blonde girl does nothing to assuage that opinion. Musically, though, this is soaring, exciting stuff. There is enough groove here to remind you that this genre started with Black Sabbath, and the dual guitar attack of brothers Michael and Christopher Amott is scintillating. I’m also one who likes some theatrics to accompany my blunt force trauma, and Arch Enemy delivers with just enough drama and movement to satisfy that itch.
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Be – Common
Common is a great, idiosyncratic rapper, but he is not in my personal pantheon when I think about my favorite emcees. Yet, he seems to be represented on these lists more frequently than other artists who I might appreciate more. I think that’s because, in the realm of hip hop music, Common has a better ear than most for crafting coherent albums. On that front, Be absolutely sings. Executive producer Kanye West was experimenting with an uncharacteristically reserved, soulful approach at the time, and it felt scattershot on his 2005 album, Late Registration. It is a perfect fit for Common, however. Kanye’s own material calls for production that is brash and experimental, both as a compliment to his lyricism and as a distraction from his weaker showings as an emcee. Common is pretty much the archetype of a “conscious rapper”, and so his positivity and ruminations on spirituality flourish over a lush bed of upright bass, horns, and soul samples. This may be the warmest, most inviting rap record ever recorded. Now, there is a downside to the whole conscious hip hop aesthetic, and it is largely that we have been conditioned to want beats that bang and lyrics that go hard. Cynicism and darkness are baked into many of the genre’s classic touchpoints, from “The Message” to “C.R.E.A.M.” to “Shook Ones, Pt II”. Rakim became GOAT on the back of dispassionate bars about rhymes and crimes, and nihilism was the driving force that crowned rap’s twin kings, 2Pac and Biggie. Common has always blazed his own trail, however, and there’s no reason that thoughtful, introspective, even romantic writing must be the exclusive domain of genres where the performers sing their lyrics. Plus, Common has been proven to throw down when he needs to, like on the scorching “Chi City”, and West provides plenty of undeniable hooks to keep the album from veering into TED Talk territory. I like to think of Be as a soul album that happens to feature rapping and beats, and that helps contextualize Common among artists like Marvin Gaye and D’Angelo. From that vantage point, it shouldn’t be surprising at all to see his work consistently peppered throughout my greatest albums of all time.
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Honorable Mentions
Rock/Metal: Ghost Reveries – Opeth; Deadwing – Porcupine Tree; Between the Buried and Me – Alaska; Black Mountain – Black Mountain; Out of Exile – Audioslave; Picaresque – The Decemberists; Get Behind Me Satan – The White Stripes
Soul/Funk: Multiply – Jamie Lidell; Unplugged – Alicia Keys; Motown Remixed – Various Artists; How Late Do U Have 2BB4UR Absent? – George Clinton
Hip Hop: The Craft – Blackalicious; Me and THIS Army – DJ Panzah Zandahz; Late Registration – Kanye West; Grandmasters – GZA & DJ Muggs; Dusted – Katalyst
Jazz: Held on the Tips of Fingers – Polar Bear
Country: Jacksonville City Nights – Ryan Adams; 29 – Ryan Adams
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